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⸺ ⟢ synopsis. a slip of the tongue seems to unlock something in wriothesley that he’s never considered before.
pairing. wriothesley x fem! reader | wc. 1.2k words. | genres. smut. minors do not interact. | warnings. age gap, reader is written to be twenties + wrio forties but no specific ages mentioned. daddy kink. he calls you sweetheart once. almost premature ejaculation. teasing from wrio. | return to masterlist.
⸺ ⟢ notes. daddy kink + age gap are like my roman empire tbh! i must write more of them ueueue ✨
“Taking it real nice, huh?” Wriothesley grunts, his voice low and deep before its followed by another slow, languid draw back of his hips and they clap once more against yours. “You like that, right?”
“I-it’s good.” You gasp, barely coherent. “So deep.”
“Oh, you don’t have to tell me. Can feel it.”
The sudden brush of Wriothesley’s cock against the sensitive spots inside of you is entirely too much— he can tell, the stretch squeezing a long, whispering sound out from between your lips as your thighs shake around his waist.
He watches you through dark lashes, drinking in every dip of your figure and the pretty furrow of your brows before your lips part and your moan is high in pitch. But the sight of you so pliant like this, struggling beneath a man as old as Wriothesley is, makes his cock throb in a way he hasn’t felt in years— sinking back into your cunt with a heavy swallow when you shudder around the sensitive shaft again and again.
“Think you can take a little more for me? Yeah?”
Wriothesley tilts his head down at you, watches your eyes roll back as you struggle to respond. He loves it.
“‘Yes—d-daddy, harder, Wrio ah!”
Your words are a whisper, eyes cloudy with want as you finally blink up at him and there’s a slight stutter to Wriothesley’s pace when he begins to realise exactly what you just said.
It catches him more off guard than he’d like to admit, and it’s not something that he’s ever really considered getting off to in the past. Well, considering his current title in the Fortress— and the years it’s taken him to get there, he never really thought he would be into it to begin with.
But when it’s coming from you— someone almost half his age, struggling to take his cock with tears in your pretty eyes, and you’re hiccuping on the quiet little Daddy that seems to wrestle free from your throat. Well, there’s no harm in him enjoying it temporarily… right?
“What was that, hm?” Wriothesley coo’s down at you after a moment for his thoughts, but he still readjusts his knees before finding a pace that’s a little faster. His heart feels like it’s racing as he looms over you with a slight furrow to his brows. “Is that what you think about me?”
“S-slipped out.”
“Slipped out, huh?”
Wriothesley’s pace is unrelenting now, his voice low as he glances all over your features and sure, maybe he could write it off as a mistake. But what’s unmistakable, is the way his cock is sliding so perfectly along the spots inside of you and making your thighs twitch, and suddenly he finds himself wanting to try harder in the hopes of hearing it again.
“Well then, I don’t think I quite heard you the first time. So you wanna repeat that?” He’s close enough now that his lips are smearing over your cheek.
“S-sorry.” You try to apologise, obviously embarrassed.
But Wriothesley only seems to push more of himself deeper, harder. Like he’s drawing it out of you— suddenly desperate.
“That’s not it.” He clicks his tongue, and in that same instance you wrap your arms up over his broad shoulders, nails digging into the skin. “Try again.”
“D-daddy.” Comes shortly after, and without even realising Wriothesley’s groaning at the way it sounds in your fucked-out little voice.
His eyes close momentarily when your words are followed by another tight squeeze of your walls, almost like your pussy is trying to force him even deeper. He feels like you’re plugging him inside, heels of your feet digging into his lower back, but his mind is reeling from the sudden throb that little nickname has granted him, his abdomen twisting with it.
He blinks at you slowly, smirking, bright eyes still heavy with lust despite the way he’s still thinking about that title— his mind is thick with it. But Wriothesley’s hands dig into your skin before he’s pulling you back into another loud slap of his hips, and he exhales heavily as he pushes into you even harder, thrusts so loud and clapping that you’re left jolting underneath him.
But he still feels like he’s waiting, wanting, wishing you to say it again— just to really test what it’s doing to him and how it’s making him feel.
“Daddy, it…. it feels so good!” You gasp, as if you can read his mind and Wriothesley feels like the room is spinning as he fucks you.
A rough groan scratches from him throat, his voice breathless against your skin as your whispery, lust-driven voice wraps around the length of his spine and squeezes, your hips grinding up to desperate meet his.
“You like calling me that, hm?” Wriothesley growls, his fingers gripping almost too hard at your waist. “Seems someone’s got a little secret. But oh, don’t hold back on me now.”
Your pussy clenches at the sound of his voice next, he can tell you’re embarrassed about it but love it all the same. His hands hold you in place against his heavy thrusts, and when he hears you whimper out another little Daddy beneath his weight— he pushes you even further.
“Uh oh, feels like someone’s close.” He teases you, cock grazing past the sensitive, puffy spots inside of you before he’s cruelly tracing his hand between your bodies and rolling your clit.
But Wriothesley’s pace only increases, growing faster with every breathier croon of his name and every hiccupped little exhale that he’s hoping will carry Daddy along with it. It’s like it’s broken something in him, or unlocked it maybe— as he’s gotten older perhaps it’s natural. Almost as natural as fucking a girl half his age feels and oh, that feels amazing.
Too amazing, he’s so hung up on hearing you say it again that he doesn’t realise that he’s twitching himself, his cock heavy as he forces it inside of you with a relentless pace. His lips are at your ear, teasing you as every clap of his hips gets sloppier with your whimpers.
“Don’t go quiet on me now, sweetheart.” Wriothesley groans, his fingers tightening in your skin as you let your head sink into the pillows to moan. His mouth follows you, baring more of his weight down until you’re pressed into the mattress. “Let me hear it.”
“I wanna cum, Daddy.”
It’s so clear, but it’s needy and beautiful and all too much at once. Wriothesley doesn’t realise he’s pulling away until you’re whining, grabbing at him but he leaves you in such a rush— you’re so disoriented.
“W-what is it?” You gasp out with the sudden rush of cold air when he leaves you, shuddering.
“Almost got me with that one.” Wriothesley chuckles, but Archons, he’s embarrassed. At his age, you would think he’d have more control of himself but this wasn’t exactly something he can train for. It’s not like boxing, it’s harder even. “Seems I was closer than I thought. Forgive me, anyway— where were we then?”
His breaths are laboured, salt and pepper hair framing his ageing features but he apologises again with a squeeze of his big hand on your hip. And you forgive him so easily when you spread your legs to let him back in, pussy drooling from where he left too soon.
“Right here, daddy.”
“Thank you for the lovely reminder, I’ll be sure to make up for it.”
fluff. gn reader. soft moments. dialogue is hard. reader is selfless. ₊ 𓂃 masterlist.
“huh? would u believe our compatibility is 0%!”
you’re currently resting next to ALHAITHAM on the couch in his home. your feet are tucked under his legs slightly as you lie back across the cushions, grumbling as you scan over the compatibility test you’d brought home from the kalimi exchange bulletin board.
its something being used to advertise some match-making, test your relationship service that you’re sure is just a money grab - but you still can’t help but feel offended at your relationships result.
alhaitham on the other hand, doesn’t seem too bothered by it at all as he continues to read through his book at the opposite side of the sofa, his head propped up by his fist as it rests on the arm of the couch.
“i see,” he grumbles, hums almost and although anyone else may believe his response to be one of disinterest, you know it’s quite the opposite when you feel his fingers wrap softly around your calf, opting to switch his book into his other hand in the process as a means to do so. it was his own little subtle way of letting you know he’s listening despite the way his gaze remains on the words infront of him.
“what? do you believe it?” you huff (albeit more playfully than anything) as you push yourself up on your forearms, and the action urges alhaitham to place his fingers between the open pages of his book as he bookmarks his spot - deciding to offer you his full attention instead.
“quite the opposite, that couldn’t be further from the truth. what is this based on exactly?” he’s honest and matter of fact when he speaks, but the certainty in his words undoubtedly makes you feel suddenly flushed as he leans over to eye the piece of paper in your hands.
“like our personalities, love language - all the usual stuff these tests want.” you tilt the paper gently to align with alhaitham’s gaze as he scoffs, delicately squeezing his fingers around your calf - almost as a means of reassuring you.
“they obviously don’t consider the things that actually matter.”
“what matters more than that though?” although you do agree with your boyfriends reasoning that the compatibility test really holds no real gauge of someone’s real life relationship or chemistry. you still would like the reassurance regardless (mostly driven by your own bitterness to beat the odds), so you can’t help but deliberately provoke him, even just to hear how his brilliant mind works in regards to something so trivial.
you know alhaithams satisfied with the information he’s read albeit not interested enough to keep reading when his eyes lift to meet your own next, followed by the trace of his fingertips as he smoothes them along the skin between your ankle and the back of your knee. you can almost hear the complexity of his brain beginning to work before he begins,
“it’s true most people are wary of interacting with me, most likely because they think i’m difficult to get along with - although i’ve never been interested in social interactions in the first place,” another squeeze of his fingers and you can’t help but push yourself a little closer, it was true that he’d never been someone who cared for other peoples opinions nor to be surrounded by a large circle of friends, but you always felt a little flattered that he went out of his way to make sure you felt otherwise. he always had a way of captivating you everytime he spoke — brilliant words laced with a softer tone that he deliberately took whenever speaking to you as a means to not accidentally condescend you.
“but yet, my time spent with you has become something of utmost importance,” you smile at that, suddenly warm and alhaitham clears his throat before he continues, “and i was under the impression that sharing my free time with you was more personal and intimate compared to an article that’s obviously laced with rhetoric.”
you giggle at the way he doesn’t miss the opportunity to demean the phony article, but it becomes hushed as he continues, “being social is not one of life’s necessities but i think it’s needless to say that you account for my personality with that of your own.” he adds, and you feel like your heartbeat takes a pace that’s a little faster as you hold his gaze.
“i guess you may come across a little blunt at times, but i know you never mean to hurt anyone’s feelings.” you’d learned that quickly in your relationship; although he meant well, most of the time, you know that sometimes people may misunderstand his intent, mistaking it as him coming across more like a know-it-all than anything else (although, you also know that sometimes.. he may do that deliberately)
alhaitham nods and you can’t help but feel a little proud, “that’s precisely my point. you make your strengths and weaknesses quite clear despite the fact that you may come across more on the emotional side. you put other peoples feeling before your own and you sometimes fuss over the little things rather than those that matter. unlike myself who would prefer to think factually and rationally rather than based on my own personal feelings.”
although you pout at that, and the expression only seems to make alhaithams lips curl into a soft sort of smile when you huff at his reply. “i don’t know if you’re making fun of me or not right now.” his fingers squeeze at your calf again, like a wordless little apology albeit you know he’s only being honest - maybe that’s why it’s so annoying.
“on the contrary, i like to think that’s one of the reasons we are compatible. you’re compassionate, patient and understanding, those are the very parts of your personality that not only opposite my own, but that i find to be most intriguing about you.”
you blink up at him as you feel the heat suddenly rise from your chest to your cheeks. although alhaitham wasn’t the type of boyfriend to rub your relationship into everyone’s faces, the compliments and love he gave you were so special and sincere that they often caught you off guard. another smile from the scribe opposite you and you find yourself covering the most likely flustered expression on your face with your hand as he opts to turn back to his page in his book again, “we know how to play to each others strengths, therefore i find our relationship to be invaluable, wouldn’t you?”
“yeah, i guess you’re right about that.” you’re pouting against your palm as you reply but you can still feel the warmth blooming in your chest. despite you never feeling like there was a lack of love or affection in your relationship, you still felt somehow fulfilled by the conversation and finding out what exactly the otherwise blunt, cold scribe thought about it.. about you.
even if the conversation was inspired by some dumb advertisement from the bulletin board, you almost want to thank whoever wrote it (despite the 0% score, you figured there’s enough love in your life to make up for that)
although your dreamy little moment is interrupted by alhaitham’s next teasing quip as he opens back up his page to continue reading, his fingers remain resting on your skin. “i just prefer to base our compatibility off of the obvious facts, 0% is a bit harsh - i’d argue it’s around 62%.” he chuckles softly, and your brows furrow.
“you couldn’t just say 100% to make me feel good?”
“there you go again, focusing on the little things.” his words lilt into something more of a hum at the end and despite the way you know he’s teasing you, obvious from the almost subtle, smug look on his handsome features. you still find yourself smiling as you playfully kick at his thighs, flopping your back onto the cushions once more when you hear him groan - it’s why you both work so well together afterall, as you feel your heart swell.
“i still think 62% is a bit harsh, you should give me more credit for putting up with you.”
⸺ ⟢ synopsis. despite his past mistakes, sunday is trying his best to blend in as a new member of the astral express. so when a particularly surprising opportunity arises for him to get even closer to you and your boyfriend dan heng, well…. who is sunday to refuse your generosity.
dan heng x fem! reader x sunday ( wc. 8.1k words. ) genres. smut. minors do not interact. | warnings. threesome. reader is dan heng’s gf + sunday is an outsider. inexperienced! sunday. reader is an empath. wing play + oral receiving + alternate position spit roast. a tasty sprinkle of possessive dan heng. astral express! sunday and reader is also a part. switching povs; going between reader + sunday | return to masterlist.
⸺ ⟢ notes. giving my thanks to kai again for making the line divider for me ilu! i actually ended up changing the position last minute but i was so pleased to finally write my sunheng x reader fantasy! ⚡️
You've always considered yourself to be a particularly empathetic person, acutely aware of other people’s emotions and always wondering whether or not they’re as happy as they make themselves out to be.
Perhaps that’s why you’d taken a special interest in the new member of the express as soon as he arrived. Sunday, was a peculiarly special case— an abnormality considering the circumstances in which he was joining your little group, but you found the man to be especially… intriguing.
Immediately, you had noticed the way that Sunday would spend time alone around the ship rather than allowing himself to mingle with the rest of the group. But in that same breath— he would help out where he could aswell, even to the point where Pom-Pom had run out of things to keep him busy. It had made you think at first, whether or not it stems from his guilt or perhaps it's his way of repayment, but then maybe there's an even deeper part of him that's doing it in the hopes it'll make him feel as if he belongs.
Dan Heng had filled you in on the background of everything that had went down while the group was on Penacony, but even then— you could never really find it in yourself to hate Sunday. Even after all of the trouble that he put your friends through, you couldn't help but somewhat pity him.
Especially when you would often times roam around the Express at night to find him curled up in one of the arm chairs instead of snuggled up in a bed. Sure, new members never really got the luxury of their own bedroom right away but… surely the guy must find it difficult sleeping in some of positions you stumble across him in.
Maybe that's how this all came about to begin with. After a particularly late night in the Party Car, spending one of your rare moments with all of your friends letting off some steam with a few drinks before the next jump.
You had been curled up in Dan Heng's side, enjoying the quiet conversation going on around you while March 7th went back and forth with your boyfriend. You had been speaking to Sunday at that point, asking the questions that you often did— if he was having a good time, if he was settling in, if he believes that Mr Yang is handsome for an older man.
He hadn't answered the latter question but you feel like the answer is obvious.
"Where are you sleeping tonight then?" Had come out of your mouth without you even realising it, and Sunday seemed almost embarrassed to answer. It was really quite cute.
"I'm sure I will be able to find space around the Express somewhere. I tend to favour places that allow me to admire the cosmos at any given moment, and there is quite a particularly comfortable arm chair in the Parlor Car."
"So… not in a bed then?"
Sunday's ears had turned pink.
"Well, I do not expect you all to offer me considerable luxuries when I have hardly proven myself worthy of such just yet." Sunday explains, "Nevertheless, I am grateful for the opportunity to travel with you as is."
You think for a second, then shrug.
"Well, there's space in me and Dan Heng's room, why don't you bunk with us?" Dan Heng turns around at the sound of his name and you continue. "Sleeping on the arm chairs must be terrible for your neck, surely you're cramping by now?"
"Ah… there is no need to go out of your way for me." Sunday shakes his head, then appears to hiss at something. "Though, I admit the arm chairs around the Express have been… unforgiving as of late."
That was enough for you, you clap your hands together and try not to look too happy about helping Sunday out. "It's decided then!" You turn to Dan Heng. "It's fine with you, right?"
Your boyfriend shrugs, "Its no trouble with me either, I do not mind it."
Then back to Sunday, who's staring at you both— looking wide eyed and albeit a little flustered, but he appears to take in the excited expression you're wearing before seeming to revert his own to something much more polite.
"Very well then, it would be impolite for me to turn down your generous invitation, I'm sure…"
"Yey!"
But now, circumstances have unfortunately… changed. And by that you mean that Dan Heng has been looking particularly handsome ever since all three of you returned back to your bedroom for the night and now you feel like you just cannot keep your hands to yourself.
You had atleast waited until the conversation between you three had died down, leaving Sunday in a little makeshift bed thrown together with extra blankets and pillows before retreating to your own with Dan Heng. You waited until his breathing had settled and lights were out, and then you had all but pounced on your boyfriend after that.
You're trying your best to hold it together, but when you're straddling Dan Heng as you are now and having him kiss you deep and slow— you're hardly to blame for not being able to hold back. Your hands reach for any and every part of him you can feel, from his hair to across his shoulders to down his abdomen, brushing intimate touches over his skin until you're pulling at his shirt and only then does he say something.
"We should not do this." Dan Heng murmurs against your lips, "We might wake him."
But neither of you stop, your bodies all but grinding against one another. His hand is tight around your wrist and the other wraps around your hips, pressing them close to his.
"We can be quiet, I promise I will."
Dan Heng stops for a moment, but then he shifts beneath you, deliberately— until he's able to press his thigh up between your spread legs and without even thinking about it, a soft whine slips from between your lips. It's louder than you wished it was and he swallows it eagerly, but still pulls back to give you a straight look after the fact.
"That was not entirely convincing."
"That was hardly fair, you caught me off guard." You click your tongue. "If I'm actually trying to be quiet then I'll be able to."
"I'm having a hard time believing you."
You roll your eyes, but in reality you're trying not to laugh at the blank expression Dan Heng's giving you right now. Even with his flushed cheeks and messy hair.
"Please?" You decide to beg, in a tone that's deliberately soft and airy and as much as Dan Heng knows exactly what you're trying to do; both of his hands rest flat on your hips, and he breathes out a sigh that tells you he's going to do exactly what you're asking anyway.
"I suggest you try harder this time around then."
You would've cheered had you not been reminded of your company. So instead, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean into give him a peck that doesn't last nearly as long as you wished it to.
But you know you have to check something beforehand. So from your place still on top of Dan Heng, you angle yourself back— peering over the side of the bed in hopes of catching a glance of Sunday in his makeshift nest.
You have to squint into the dark to see.
You nudge Dan Heng. "Do you think he's asleep?"
"It is doubtful."
"Really? But he's been so quiet." You try to focus your eyes a bit more in the darkness until you're finally able to catch a glimpse of him. Sunday looks asleep— nuzzled up against one of the thicker blankets with his ear feathers resting softly around his cheeks. His eyes are closed, his breathing is soft.
You frown. "He looks so serene. Seems pretty asleep to me."
"I believe he just looks like that." He shrugs.
"Well that's hardly fair."
You both turn to look at eachother for a beat. Then for a second.
Until by the third, your lips are slamming against Dan Heng's once more and your hands are back in his hair; he welcomes you eagerly, his hands squeezing into your hips until you're pressing flushed and tight against him. You already feel so incredibly flustered, twisting yourself up in your boyfriend's lap despite the way your friend is sleeping only centimetres away. It's risky— but you can't help it, you need him.
You atleast do as you said you would, trying to muffle every blissful sound your body wishes to cry out by pushing them behind Dan Heng's teeth.
It almost works, almost— but a few break through against your will, driven by his insatiable kisses and it's enough to make your boyfriend's hands squish into your thighs as if to try and get your attention.
"Perhaps we should—" Dan Heng starts but you cut him off.
"He's definitely asleep."
"You would be mistaken actually." Sunday chooses that moment to respond from his place on the floor, and his voice is sudden enough to almost scare you off of Dan Heng's lap entirely had he not been holding you so tight.
Your boyfriend looks at you. Face falling flat, but still flushed.
"I told you."
You think you would've launched yourself into the cosmos out of embarrassment had Sunday not shifted in his sheets and distracted you, drawing both of your attentions as you timidly crawl off of Dan Heng's lap and sit by his side instead.
"Apologies, I did not mean to startle you. And it was not my intention to easedrop either." Sunday starts, fidgeting with his hands.
"You could've said something sooner, Sunday." You begin to do the same. "This is so embarrassing."
But it seems Sunday isn't doing too well himself. When you look up to glance at him, you can just about make out the flush of his face— half obscured by the feathers of his wings curling around his cheeks. But even in the dim lighting of your room it's obvious he's red, which says enough about just how deep of a shade it must be for you to be able to notice.
"We apologise if we woke you." Dan Heng eventually speaks up, ever the calm one. "It was not our intention to make you uncomfortable."
But one look in his direction shows off the impression of his half-hard cock in his pants, and even that is too much for you to deal with. You bury your head in your hands and grumble, not only incredibly humiliated but now even hornier having been interrupted.
Before you can say anything more, Sunday clears his throat— barely able to look at you.
"I do not wish to intrude, I will easily excuse myself to elsewhere around the Express should you prefer. After all, you were already generous enough to offer me the opportunity to sleep here but you owe me no such kindness should.... circumstances change...."
You stare at him then. Really stare at him. And maybe that's when it clicks— the circumstances of Sunday resting on the floor while you made out with your boyfriend in bed. You don't know how long he's been listening but considering the expression he's wearing, you assume it wasn't all of a sudden.
You blink and Sunday seems to grow uncomfortable beneath your gaze. A slight enough movement to bring your attention to something much more condemning— because now that you're suddenly aware of the bulge he's obviously trying to hide, you can't find it in yourself to ignore it.
"Have you ever kissed a girl before, Sunday?" You blurt out, the question sudden enough for even Dan Heng to whip around and look at you.
"I- I think that is hardly appropriate to share, I mean..." Sunday stammers. "I have had certain relations in the past, nevertheless I believe that—"
"You're a virgin, aren't you?" You cut him off again.
Sunday's cheeks appear to flush even pinker.
"Perhaps."
Dan Heng's palm rests down on your thigh after that, a wordless plea for you to take it easy and when it makes you notice the way Sunday's burying his face behind his wings, you think maybe he's got a point.
"What? You don't have to be ashamed about it, I think it's cute," You try to comfort instead. "There's no way you didn't have offers, look at you— halovians are well known for being handsome, aren't they? Then what's the problem?"
"It... simply was not my priority, that is all."
"So you admit it then? You're a virgin?"
You gape, because you just can't help yourself. But when you turn to Dan Heng— half expecting him to be just as taken back, he only offers you a shrug.
"I thought it was quite obvious, was it not?"
Your attention is drawn back by the sound of shuffling blankets, and then in a moment Sunday is pushing himself to stand and brushing down his clothes.
"Perhaps I should take my leave."
"You've never been curious?" You call after him.
You have no idea what you're doing. You can even feel Dan Heng staring at the side of your face as if he's asking you the same thing, and perhaps it's to do with how horny you are right now, or maybe it's because you do feel a bit of pity for Sunday not having felt intimacy before.
But now you can't stop. You're not sure you even want to.
You admit he's handsome, sure he's no Dan Heng, but you had meant it when you said it earlier. From the way that he carries himself to his features— his wings, his eyes, his halo. Even now that he's staring at you with such an…. unreadable expression you can't help but want to kick your feet.
"What?" Sunday looks almost perplexed.
"Curious?" You repeat, because you're in too deep now. "You've never thought about what it would be like to touch a girl?"
Sunday doesn't answer right away, he fidgets a bit more. He scratches a hand through his hair, fluttering the feathers of his wings at the same time and then a sudden realisation dawns on you.
"Wait— You didn't take a vow, right?"
You swear you hear Dan Heng huff out a laugh at your panicked voice. Sunday's palm rests over his face.
"I really shouldn't overstay my welcome, I- I am sure Pom-Pom will have somewhere in mind for me to-"
"You staying here isn't an issue." Dan Heng is the one to cut him off this time, earning a look from you aswell. You had thought yourself to be digging your own grave with your insistent questions knowing your boyfriend was right there with no intervention.
But when Dan Heng turns to meet your eyes after a moment, he seems to be thinking the same thing as you are.
And it looks like he's on board.
You turn yourself back towards Sunday, who's frozen in his spot. "But you're not trapped here either, you can leave right now if you want. I'll pretend this conversation never happened and then we'll go back to normal, there's always an armchair waiting for you somewhere, right?"
Sunday appears to think on that for a moment, and you wonder what sort of things are going on in his mind. You're sure it seems as ridiculous to him as is sounds to you— the night has went from an innocent sleepover between friends to well…. an implication of something to come that holds much more weight… should he decide to stay that is.
You watch as Sunday shifts from one foot to the other, and then with a delicate flutter of his wings he's looking away from you again.
"If… if it is truly no trouble…"
You don't respond to that, but you clasp your hands together as if pleased with his answer. It's quiet for a moment then, aside from the shift of the comforter beneath you as you push yourself onto your knees and you catch Dan Heng's gaze in the movement.
He looks at you— in that grounding, beautiful way that he always does. And then he nods, as if giving you silent permission.
"Do you two do this often then?" Sunday asks as he watches you get comfortable.
"No." You say, "Maybe you're just special."
He flushes at that, and you're surprised that the same man who was once so powerful within Penacony would be so easily undone by a few compliments. Pleasantly.
You can tell that he's out of his element, most likely due to his own inexperience but you're not above taking the lead in this moment— deciding to start with something soft first to test the waters.
Your hand outstretches towards the man opposite you, and at the same time you feel Dan Heng's arm loop around your waist.
"Come here." You beckon Sunday closer, a command that he obeys with ease. He moves with a strange grace, his shoulders pulled back, his steps steady and confident. But you notice the furrow of his brows, the curiosity in his gaze.
When he comes to stand just off the side of the bed you're kneeling on, you look up at him through your lashes.
"Can I touch them?" You ask, motioning to the wings that elegantly extend from his throat. "I'll be gentle."
The grey feathers appear to shudder out at the question before Sunday nods.
"If you would like."
Dan Heng remains silent behind you, but you can feel his eyes on your features from where he's tethered at your side. His thumb is stroking at the points in your waist where his hand rests, and when you reach out to brush your fingers through Sunday's ear feathers for the first time— you feel him squeeze.
"They're so soft, you must take great care of them." You say, combing your hand through the nerves of Sunday's wings as his lips part wordlessly. You don't point out the way his whole body seems to clench. "Are they sensitive?"
"At certain times." Sunday whispers, "Halovians do not often allow others to touch them without reason. Lest it stir an unwelcome reaction."
"Is this one unwelcome?"
Your question deliberately accompanies an experimental squeeze of your fingers against the base of Sunday's wings, making them flutter.
"N-not at all." Sunday's next breath shudders out of him. "Quite the opposite."
"That's good."
The flush on the tips of his cheeks deepens slightly as his wings appear to bend into your touch.
Sunday looks at you then, and Dan Heng gives your waist another stroke in response. Then you hear his body shift behind you— until you feel him come to kneel at your back and he steadies you against his chest with a touch that's grounding and safe.
You continue to massage your hands through Sunday's wings, squeezing and applying pressure to certain spots that he seems to favour. With every brush of your fingertips, he appears to get more confident— his lips parting as sounds of lithe and quiet pleasure appear to threaten to spill from behind his teeth.
He's rocking slightly where he stands, and perhaps you'd be doing the same were Dan Heng not holding you upright— allowing you to use his chest to lean against as Sunday's body tries to sway closer into your touch.
But Dan Heng’s hands on your waist tether you to reality, despite the way anticipation makes you feel lightheaded and giddy. You press yourself back a bit further, curling into his chest and you feel him lean forward to smear his lips against your neck— pressing a few delicate kisses up the column of your throat as you bare more of your weight back into him.
It's incredibly erotic, having Dan Heng kiss his way up your neck while you're massaging Sunday's wings. You feel pinpricks of pleasure begin to gather beneath your skin as your boyfriend's lips press against the sensitive places he knows you like, and Sunday watches you as you dig your hips back into Dan Heng's crotch— humming when you feel his bulge greet you in return.
As for Sunday himself, well it’s safe to say he’s pretty overwhelmed right now.
He’s always thought you to be kind, and he’s acutely aware of the possibility of you always appearing during his quieter moments because you feel sorry for him.
It’s not that he deliberately isolates himself from the Express in the moments you happen to come find him. But it’s more so, Sunday just feels like he’s finally able to exercise his freedom to take a moment of repose whenever he requires it. Back when he was the head of the Oak family, he often found himself chained to the grandeur banquets— forcing himself to socialise even when he felt like he was due to collapse due to his own exhaustion, forcing a smile and a laugh just to keep up appearances.
But now, as he’s come to find himself a member of the Express— it’s much the opposite. In fact, Mr Yang actually encourages him to get more rest than he ever would’ve considered to take himself. Always insisting that a proper night of sleep would do him good.
Though it seems tonight, especially now, will be another sleepless one.
"Are you certain you want this?" Dan Heng interrupts Sunday's train of thought with his question. When he snaps back out of it, he realises you're both staring. "You can stop this at any time." Dan Heng assures him.
"Apologies, it seems I… lost my train of thought is all." Sunday shakes his head. "I'm fine."
"Don't overthink it." Dan Heng says again, lips still pressing against your throat and Sunday appreciates the advice as he's drawn back to the pressure of your fingers on his wings.
He wonders if you can both see how hard he is— how damp the inside of his slacks have become since this all started. If he were to be honest, he's been hard since way before you even touched him; turned on by the simple sounds of your desperation when you believed him to be asleep.
But he's never been one to feel so… out of control. And as much as Sunday would usually crave the feeling of taking charge in most moments— he can't help but feel particularly out of his depth right now.
You stroke your fingertips across the top of Sunday's wings and it's so sensitive and good that he feels his body almost crumble; it's concerning actually, he believes he could cum with just this. He moans at that, the pleasure outweighing his embarrassment as he watches Dan Heng continue to kiss at your neck— his hands roaming your body, palming at your breasts and waist at the same time as you curl and back yourself up into his touch.
It's a spur of the moment thing, the way Sunday reaches out to do the same; to perhaps try his hand at spurring that same reaction from you himself. But when his fingers lift and tilt within even an inch of your direction, Dan Heng's eyes rise again to meet him.
"That would not be wise." Dan Heng says, his voice so absolute it almost chills Sunday as he hesitates.
"I—"
"Are you ready for more now, Sunday?" You cut him off, looking at him through long lashes as Dan Heng stays watching from his place behind you. Your dreamy tone is a stark contrast to the almost uncharacteristically rougher tone that just came from your boyfriend, but he doesn't think too much into it.
"Yes." Sunday responds anyway, "It appears I am at your mercy."
Dan Heng moves from behind you first, resting himself down on the mattress and then he looks at Sunday again. "I suggest you do not get carried away then."
And he feels vaguely like he's being scolded.
You follow after him, sitting between your boyfriend's legs with your back to his chest. You angle your hips up a little higher before quickly kicking off the bottoms of your pyjamas and your underwear and getting yourself comfortable. It catches him off guard, the sudden glimpse of your pussy so unfiltered and already so… slick. Your folds are glistening even in the dim lighting of your room on the Express and Sunday wants nothing more than to reach forward and swipe his fingers through it.
He feels the angle spur a response in him, one that's deep in his lower abdomen as his cock strains against the fabric of his slacks once more and his mouth feels suddenly dry.
But despite your faux confidence you're feeling just as overwhelmed as you can imagine Sunday is. From your position in Dan Heng's lap you can feel how hard he is, bulge pressing up against your lower back as his breathing makes goosebumps burst across the flesh of your shoulders and neck.
Not to mention the way Sunday's looking at you, the gold of his eyes appears to shine as he takes you in— admiring your intimate skin is his entirety and it takes everything in you to not close your legs and shy away from it.
Maybe it's because you know Dan Heng's got you, and it seems he's enjoying this just as much as you are— despite his cool exterior, the warmth of his palm as it rests on the inside of your thigh feels incredible and that alone drives you to keep up whatever game you're playing. You press your back further into his chest before looking up at your new partner from beneath your lashes.
But Sunday doesn't seem to notice you bringing your foot up until it's pressing beneath the hem of his shirt and you use it to drag the fabric upwards before pressing the sole against his chest. He can't help himself from wrapping his hand around your ankle and squeezing it tight, suddenly feeling like he can't breath at the action.
"Your turn." You say, acting innocent like you're not showing him your pussy and teasing him with your touch. "Or do you want me to help you?"
You giggle, so sinfully cute that Sunday feels lightheaded again at the idea of you undressing him. He could lose himself in the image of it, your hands tucking beneath his waistband before pulling it down, blinking up at him as his cock springs free; he feels almost bewildered by his own want.
It's only when Dan Heng's arm wraps around your shoulders from behind does he find himself on solid ground again and your foot falls back onto the mattress with a soft thud.
"I am sure he can handle it." Dan Heng assures you, his lips pressing against your ear as your tugged closer to his chest.
"Yes." Sunday says the same. "You needn't worry about me."
Sunday's a bit clumsy in the moments after— quickly discarding himself of his slacks and shirt before folding them up neatly and placing them aside. Even in these moments, he cannot skip on his habits but when he feels that first sting of sexual freedom that comes with pulling off his boxers he can't help the way he sucks in through his teeth.
It leaves him bare in a way he's never felt before, standing infront of you and Dan Heng as you lie back against your boyfriend's chest on the mattress. Your eyes on Sunday's cock.
"It's so beautiful, Sunday." You say, authentically sweet. "It suits you."
The praise still makes Sunday feel suddenly self-conscious.
"My apologies if my inexperience hinders this for either of you."
But it is Dan Heng that responds to him first. His hand comes over to rest on your inner thigh as he spreads your legs wide enough to hook them over his own, and it almost seems like an offering.
"You need not apologise, though perhaps it's best if you follow my lead."
"Yeah, Dan Heng's right." You agree. "It's supposed to be fun anyway, so don't worry about it, okay?"
That does a little for Sunday's anxieties but still he finds himself feeling rather awkward. He swallows heavily for a moment, and then with another glance at your glistening folds his wings shudder again.
"What's wrong?" You smile, beckoning him closer with a simple blink rather than an outstretched hand this time. "I think you're past being shy now, come closer."
"Let me guide you, okay?" You watch as Sunday does, spreading wide so he has enough space to settle between your legs. "It's really easy once you get the hang of it."
Your eyes lock on the space below his hips, and he feels his wings instinctively curl around his cheeks in that way they often did whenever he was flustered.
Sunday watches Dan Heng loop an arm around your waist as he holds you steady, allowing you to rely on him as you turn all of your focus onto Sunday's cock. The first time he feels your fingers reach up to graze along his shaft, he almost cums right there and then, already finding the sensation to feel miles better than his own hand.
You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you reward Sunday with a few more strokes of your fist, and he feels his expression break into something much less controlled than he's used to as his legs threaten to buckle beneath him. But he can feel Dan Heng staring at him from over your shoulder and his gaze is enough to keep him in check.
You appear to find a pace quite quickly, though it remains slow and steady, as if you can already tell what he likes. You leave soft touches up the sensitive veins on the side of Sunday's cock and brush your thumb along the sensitive tip, allowing your hand to wrap all the way around him as you easily pinpoint and squeeze at the spots that make him shake.
"Does it feel good?" You ask, continuing that rhythm along his cock as you send him a heated look from beneath your lashes.
He feels like he can barely think, but somehow he manages to find words as he readjusts himself between your spread thighs.
"Astoundingly so." Sunday responds, though he doesn't think that even comes close to just how incredible you're making him feel. "Nevertheless— it is not only my own enjoyment I desire, but that of yours too."
"You're so thoughtful."
You seem to giggle again at that, a sound he's growing quite fond of, though it's not mean-spirited and sounds more as if you're pleased. Your free arm blindly reaches back to anchor yourself against Dan Heng and as if the action was a wordless request, your boyfriends hands begin to move against you.
Sunday can't take his eyes off the way Dan Heng's fingers pull back the folds of your pussy at first— bathing you in tenative, soft touches that despite their litheness seem to spur such a reaction from you it makes your hold on him almost waver.
But at the same time, it makes Sunday's mouth water and his cock twitch, watching the way two fingers being pressed against your clit is enough to make your back arch— your lips parting to moan as your pussy is spread wide again on Dan Heng's next touch and he takes in the delicate softness and warmth that he wishes to feel for himself.
His wings flutter at his neck and he looks at you again, a depth to his gaze that you could surely swim in. "Is there something more you require of me, such as…." To have him inside of you, that's what he's implying. His eyes glance down between your legs as if to signify it.
But with another particularly drool-worthy twitch of your thighs and another few pumps of your hand along Sunday's cock, you lean back into Dan Heng's chest and smile, twisting into your boyfriend's arms as you shake your head and he continues to massage at you with two fingers.
"This is fine for now." Your lashes flutter as you take a moment to gather the precum from Sunday's tip and smear it along him; making everything feel much more soft and wet. But he doesn't know where to look— trying to decide whether he should admire your beautiful expressions, or watch the way Dan Heng's fingers are drawing another sticky circle through the delicate petals of your pussy and noting how your body twitches in response.
Your neck turns to look over your shoulder as Dan Heng's eyes finds yours. "And you?"
The look he gives you in response is so intense, Sunday almost feels it. His fingers come forward to tilt up your chin, “I can handle that part.”
“Are you sure, I—“ Sunday interjects but Dan Heng's looks at him again, with that same sharp gaze that he had met him with earlier.
“Quite certain.”
His tone leaves no room for argument.
“Ofcourse.” Sunday says, though his words are wound tight. "It is not my intention to overstep nor take your generosity for granted.”
Dan Heng helps you to your knees easily as he shoves his pants down from beneath you, leaving you hovering above his lap as you face Sunday, allowing him to take in the way your pupils are blown wide and your lips are swollen. He wishes he could kiss you, just to feel what it's like; but there's a part of him that tells him not to take advantage of your kindness; as if your hand is not wrapped around his cock.
But perhaps that opportunity will come eventually.
Though for you, you feel like you're already in heaven.
It only takes seconds, before Dan Heng's cock is springing free and resting against the inside of your thigh; smearing precum along your skin and only moments before he's got it wrapped in his own fist— angling you in a way that has it pressing up against your entrance. You watch as Sunday bites on his lower lip as he watches, and you're not sure if it's all of the attention you feel like is on you right now, or the way Dan Heng lets his cock swipe through your folds; but you're utterly soaked.
“It’s okay, Sunday. You feel good so far— this is only the first time." You say with such kindness it makes Sunday shudder, but your voice breaks off when you begin to lower yourself down on Dan Heng as he all but splits you apart.
You don't think you'll ever get used to the stretch, even in this form— it never seems to subside, splitting you apart as your head rolls back but you still manage to push more of Sunday's cock into your tightly wound fist until your hand is squeezing at the base.
"Do… ah— you want me to put my mouth on it?" You say through fluttered lashes.
You're certain you hear Sunday gulp.
"If…. if you're sure and— it is not too much trouble."
"I want to."
You lean forward quickly following his permission, forcing Dan Heng to have to hold you steady as he sinks another few inches inside of you— particularly deep this time as your toes curl from where they're folded up beneath you, making your head swirl. You exhale across the sensitive glands in Sunday's cock at first— half to tease him and half to keep yourself coherent, but then comes the first, gentle little kiss that you smear against the tip and he helps you with your reach by taking a step closer.
And it does help. It helps so much, because by your next sharp inhale you're able to wrap your lips around the tip and suck— and that pressure alone is enough to make Sunday's wings shiver out as he rests his hand on your shoulder.
You try to keep your focus on him, but as you continue to sink down on him and Dan Heng at the same time— feeding yourself another inch of Sunday's shaft while your boyfriend presses more into your pussy, you feel so incredibly full it's overwhelming. It feels like you're out of body, pleasure making your head feel thick and heavy as your tongue begins to tease the underside of Sunday's cock and your hand is continuing to pump what you can't fit in just yet.
You gag around him, taking a little too much at once as your throat tightens up all of a sudden and then you begin your withdrawal; leaving spit coating along the flushed veins of his cock as Sunday's hips lean forward to follow your movements. It's as if he's beckoning you not to leave. But when Dan Heng chooses that very opportunity to sink all the way inside of you, you can't help but whine from where your lips are still wrapping around him and Sunday almost breaks.
You feel like you might pass out. So full and stuffed as your mouth and pussy are both kept busy, thankfully— Dan Heng gives you a moment, letting you get used to the stretch and when you try to blink the stars from your eyes, you notice the way Sunday's staring down at you. Its beautiful really, the way he's watching you twist your hips on top of your boyfriend; his halo just visible over the top of his head as his messy hair frames his flushed cheeks— he looks like he's absolutely enamoured by you.
But Sunday's cock remains tight against your palm, and despite your current state you still find it in yourself to press a few sensitive kisses up the sides of him, blinking at him as you do so.
"How does it feel?" You steel yourself enough to ask, breathing hard. Despite how full you feel, despite your eagerness to be stuffed from both sides— your need.
"Your technique is sure enough …. q-quite impressive."
"So you don't want me to stop?"
You feel the way Sunday's cock throbs against your palm at your question; as if answering for him, and part of you wonders if he's going to begin to beg. But it appears he's able to keep some semblance of himself at least when he responds.
"Without a doubt, I do not wish for this to end so soon."
"That's good."
Dan Heng's voice sounds after that, a soft "Are you ready? Let me know if it gets too much." as his hands stroke up and down your back.
And as if answering for you; your body begins to shake in anticipation as Dan Heng offers you a few gentle, test thrusts— making sure you're ready before he leans over to smear some soothing kisses along the back of your shoulder. You watch Sunday's lips move with a fluttering blink, and you assume he might be cursing beneath his breath were it not drowned out by the way you're back to suckling at the head of his cock.
You feel like your ears are ringing and Sunday's hips stutter as he tries so hard not to thrust into your throat. But that same moment, is when Dan Heng begins to find a his pace, and nothing could've ever prepared you for how good it feels to be fucked from one side while taking cock from the other.
You've never quite felt anything like it. You readjust your knees on the mattress before Dan Heng's hands come to squeeze at your hips and he finds a rhythm to rock up into you. Its slow at first, each thrust long and deep, pushing up against the spongy, sensitive spots inside of you with such an ease that you don't even notice that you're suddenly bouncing on his lap to chase more of it.
But you use that same momentum to stuff even more of Sunday's length even deeper into your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat before he lunges forward and your walls shudder tight around Dan Heng at just how desperate the man above you seems to be. It spurs you on, so you continue to suckle and kiss all over his cock until Dan Heng's voice appears to draw both of your attention.
"How are you holding up?" He asks, part breathless as he continues to fuck up into your pussy, but still sounding far more composed than you feel.
Sunday thinks he's talking to him but he's not, he's speaking to you. With your mouth stuffed full of cock and your dazed expression— you hardly manage a Mhm. So you pull off for a moment to answer him, replacing your mouth with your fist in the meantime, but Dan Heng tilts your head back to face him and then he hums, murmurs something beneath his breath and kisses you instead.
You don't see it, but Dan Heng looks at Sunday then, locks his gaze as his mouth moves with yours and the look he gives him almost feels predatory— like the way an animal would guard their resources. Sunday's never seen Dan Heng in such a way; used to his more friendly, but relaxed personality.
But this, how he is now as he bounces you on his lap and at the same time; watches you stroke at Sunday's cock, makes Dan Heng appear much more dangerous. Possessive even, when his tongue presses its way between your lips and his sharp eyes narrow at the halovian opposite him.
Sunday makes a mental note of that behaviour, but he doesn't cease his slow, back and forth movements either, thrusting into your fist with an eagerness he would normally be ashamed of. His hips stutter as he rolls the head of his cock through your closely gripped fingers again and this time his lips part, his voice hitching with the exhale that you breath into Dan Heng's mouth.
You gasp as you break the kiss, and as if Dan Heng can feel something Sunday can't he begins to reach around your hips to rub at your pussy again. It makes your head drop back to moan for a second— so incredibly broken and lost in mindless pleasure but still you find it in yourself to lean forward, allowing Sunday between your lips again as you go back to suckling on the tip of his cock.
Its like something from one of his most sinful fantasies; to have Dan Heng fucking you while you suck Sunday off and he almost feels guilty for having you in such a position. But there's a part of him, a past part of him that wishes it were he that was getting to feel the sweet hug of your pussy right now— and as he watches your body clench and stutter with every wet slap against Dan Heng's hips, he can't help himself from touching you.
He ignores the look it earns him from behind you, but he's still respectable enough to not take it too far. Sunday brushes the hair back from your face and watches as you take more of his cock, your eyes fluttering closed at your obscene pleasure as your throat relaxes and you swallow around him. It earns you a moan, then another trembling pump of his hips before you glance up at him through your lashes and that seems to send him hurtling towards his orgasm with a speed he was not expecting.
Though it appears he's not alone, from where your lips wrap around him— Sunday can feel the way you're moaning around his cock, drooling all over his shaft as Dan Heng continues to rub at your pussy with two fingers while he fucks you. Even your boyfriend has began to moan himself, groans that appear more controlled but rougher in comparison to Sunday's more desperate sounds.
Sunday feels tension begin to pinch at his shoulders, his thighs shaking as you begin another wet withdrawal and then all of a sudden— with a particularly deep thrust of Dan Heng's cock it sends you forward. Your nose presses against the base of Sunday's cock so suddenly it knocks the air out of him, sending him curling forward as he feels those first tendrils of pleasure begin to take root in his body as his orgasm suddenly blooms.
It floods into your mouth until you choke, forcing you to draw back so you can really taste his load— though it only takes a few more seconds before you're following him off that edge and having to break away. Dan Heng continues to fuck you through your own organs as he holds you steady, one arm looping around your waist while the other stays between your folds.
You pump Sunday's cock to draw out his pleasure at the same time, causing a few of the remaining drops of his cum to fall and splatter over your bottom lip and chest and Sunday feels like he might actually pass out at the way his load appears to pearl on top of your skin.
As your body begins to seize and twitch on top of Dan Heng, Sunday notices the way his pace also does the same— soon followed by a clipped grunt of his own before he can see the sticky ring that appears to form at the base of Dan Heng's cock.
Everything feels so wet and warm in the aftermath. The long strokes of your fist along Sunday's cock have turned to slow pets, fingers dancing along the now flushed skin until he's shuddering and taking half of a step back. You finish it with a kiss against his tip, as if bidding his pretty cock farewell and then you all but collapse back into Dan Heng's chest as he catches you.
"How do you feel?" You ask as you take in Sunday's completely roused state. He's much different now compared to how you're used to seeing him; with his incredibly flushed expression and his messy hair, his slacks around his ankles and his wings curling around his cheeks.
It's quite cute you think, miles from the man you're sure everyone once thought him to be.
"You held up quite well." Dan Heng offers to Sunday first.
Followed by your voice as you find yourself comfortable on his softening cock. "Soooo…. how was it?" You murmur, drawing Sunday's gaze to you this time and there appears to be a dull glow to it that wasn't there before.
"Yes, it was… quite remarkable."
"I like that compliment." You smile back, watching Sunday's wings spasm in the aftermath of his orgasm as he fumbles to pull back on his underwear and clothes. "But one more thing, come here one more time!"
It takes considerable effort to push yourself up, still plugged up by Dan Heng's cock but you manage to grab at the chest of Sunday's shirt before all but pulling him into you. Its quick and catches him off guard, the way your lips are soft against his— as if rewarding him with a kiss that is so utterly sweet that he almost melts into you.
You think he actually might when you feel his body relax, and when you tease along his lips with a press of your tongue— you take pride in the dazed expression it leaves him with when you suddenly pull away. You sink back into Dan Heng's chest with a little kick of your feet, and try not to smile too hard at the way Sunday seems so utterly perplexed and…. blissfully dazed.
"Maybe you'll have a much better sleep tonight compared to when you first got here."
You joke, shattering the tension in a lighthearted way that seems to bring Sunday back. He clears his throat.
"Heh, perhaps that may be the case." He says, but fidgets. "Though I should most likely clean myself up first, I dislike making a mess at the best of times."
There's a lull of silence after that, and you can tell by the look on Sunday's face that he appears to be thinking. He gathers up the rest of his things, albeit not much, before turning to leave the room before you can stop him.
"You know, you can still sleep in this room." You say before he can go, causing Sunday to still in his step out of the door before he turns.
"She is right." Dan Heng agrees, hugging you tight. "Our offer still stands despite what has just taken place."
You don't know for certain, but you think Sunday seems to relax at that. He exhales a breath, then sighs— as if suddenly remembering how to breath.
"Then I will see to it that I shan't wake you both on my return."
You laugh, knowing that no matter how loud he is you're definitely too spent to wake up for anything tonight. "We'll consider it your revenge for earlier."
cw. student council president! sunday x delinquent reader. sfw. college au. part of the scp! sunday au i’ve been working on. enemies to ( ????? ). written from sunday’s pov. fem pronouns. you fall asleep during a tutoring session. teasing - prickly relationship between the two. one slightly suggestive moment.
word count. 1.6k words. ︵ ⊹ return to masterlist.
He should never have agreed to this. Certain it was probably going to turn out this way after Sunday agreed to tutor you in one of the many, many classes that you’re flunking.
The Student Council President has much better things to do, notably his more important duties for the school board and his long list of clubs. Yet, he’s still somehow ended up sat beside you on a long table shoved up the back of the library, watching you as you breathe softly from where your head rests in the cradle your arms have made for it.
Sunday casts you a glare from where you sleep by his side. He’s not surprised you’re so tired following the considerable effort you put into teasing him for the best part of the hour you’ve been here. The book you’re using as a pillow remains empty despite a few little scribbles and a deliberately ugly, detestable drawing you made of him before knocking out.
Even another glance at it makes him seethe before he’s controlling his temper with a particularly long sigh. He truly does dislike you, but he’s unwilling to allow you to torment him even in this state.
So Sunday casts his attention back to his own work following a few moments of peaceful silence, deciding it’s best to savour these fleeting moments without you tormenting him to catch up on his own studies. Not that he’s falling behind, but he prefers to stay ahead.
So he does. He tries. He jots down a few more notes into his neatly arranged journal, his handwriting a stretch of beautifully crafted calligraphy that you had also poked fun at. Followed closely by you poking fun at his sweater, then his ear feathers, then just about anything else that you casted your gaze at…
Even the memory of your voice makes him seethe.
Sunday cannot focus like this.
As he recalls back on the relentless teasing that he endures by you, he finds himself whipping his head back to look at you again. Glaring once more. Feathers all bent out of shape and puffed out like he’s finally going to snap and give you a piece of his mind like he would have long ago if he didn’t have so much to lose.
Not that the student body would see it as anything more than a long time coming.
But then Sunday looks at you. Again. And he thinks you look different.
You’ve rolled yourself over slightly from where you’re resting on the desk, revealing more of your relaxed features as you continue to sleep soundly by his side. Your face is missing the usual smirk that adorns it and instead of the fluttering lashes he’s used to as a means to tease him, they rest softly on the apples of your cheeks.
He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look so…. gentle. No— there’s absolutely nothing gentle about you. At peace, maybe — for lack of a better term anyway.
Sunday clears his throat after he finds himself spending a few too many moments staring. He flicks his notes another glance but then he’s back on you again, like a pull of sorts. He’s simply basking in the peace that the absence of your grating voice has left behind, that is all— definitely all it is.
Yet, he finds himself leaning forward a little more. As if to try and look at more of the details that are hidden behind your hair. His warm gaze roaming the side of your face.
When Sunday shifts, he gets a terribly fleeting glance down the neckline of your shirt from where you’re resting. Your uniform is as always, unbuttoned deliberately low, the angle you’re resting at revealing the bright coloured bra that you always call him a pervert for pointing out.
Like it’s not his job as Student Council President to make sure each student adheres to the dress code. A rule that you seem to take great pride in going against with your too short skirts and your revealed undergarments. It makes him scoff when he finds himself casting it another glance, only just enough to see the plush skin of your breasts from between the collar of your shirt. It makes him feel something, his head full of thoughts he can’t tame enough to push free.
He inhales a shudder that feels too warm.
Until a sudden, soft whimper from you stills his heart and Sunday can’t look away fast enough. He pretends he wasn’t staring, but you don’t wake up yet — instead only jostling slightly before returning to your previously peaceful state and he has to take a few breaths to settle the race of his own pulse.
He squeezes his eyes closed, hands curled into fists on his thighs. He should wake you up and excuse you from today’s session, he even opens his mouth to do just that but then his lungs feel like they snag at the sight of you again. Your hair has fallen over your face a bit more, obscuring his view of you and Sunday doesn’t know what comes over him in the moments that follow.
Because suddenly, he’s reaching for you with a graceful, deft movement of his fingers — pushing the hair from your delicate features and even just a mere swipe of his hand across your skin is enough to make him shiver from the base of his neck all the way to the tips of his toes.
He steals another delicate stroke with the back of his fingers, lingering across your cheekbone… admiring the way your lips pout slightly from where your cheek smooshes on the desk. He pulls his lungs full, holding a breath.
And as if you feel it. Even despite the graceful, tenderness of Sunday’s touch and your seemingly deep sleep, you push yourself up from your desk with such an urgency it startles him. As if you’ve just woken up realising you’ve slept in and now you’re suddenly late for class — another one of your many, many irredeemable qualities.
Except now, instead of in the comfort of your own bed. You’re in the library, mid study session with the Student Council President who’s hand is still resting just short of your face and who’s definitely a little too close for you not to notice. You both freeze, energy prickling between you in a way that has every cell in his body standing on edge.
He feels his heart plummet as you look up at him through glazed eyes. A look that presses against his chest.
“Wow! Ever heard of personal space, Prez?” Your fractured voice cuts a messy hole in the silence. It makes Sunday snatch his hand back faster than you can even register and his face crumbles before knotting into a savage twist.
He scoffs, “Have you ever heard of manners? I graciously extend my assistance to you and you repay me by what? Sleeping on school grounds?”
“Oh shutup. Maybe if your voice wasn’t so soft it wouldn’t have sent me to sleep to begin with.”
“Well if you actually have any desire to pass your class I suggest—“ He pauses when he realises. “Soft?” Sunday hates the way recalling back on your words from just a breath ago makes him feel. Something turns in his stomach, a feeling he once again ignores.
But before he can even say much else, you appear to splutter yourself. “I meant boring. Soft as in…. boring.” You quickly correct your previous mistake, and it feels like the air grows tighter by the second.
Sunday doesn’t respond after that.
So you open your mouth again, close it, seem to think for a bit, then turn to look down at your own lap. An almost uncharacteristic response. You would normally meet him with a snarky comment or at-least a teasing remark.
But now it just feels like the moments stretch into minutes as you sit in each other’s atmosphere. The air between you grows so tight he’s certain one small tap will make it shatter and he wishes he could look into your head to see what you were thinking, the silence beginning to grow prickly as he feels it needle at his sides.
Sunday’s lungs constrict and then he opens his mouth again, as if to say something himself but nothing comes out, as if the words are too big to wrestle free. You cut him off before he can figure it out, messily grabbing your things as you throw them into your handbag and you’re turning your back to him before he has any time to interject.
“Whatever. I’m over this anyway. See you later, Prez.” He feels his spine stiffen, every nerve in his body tingling in all the wrong ways. Why is he reacting this way? Is it because he truly detests you? He almost reaches out to stop you, outstretched fingers reaching for your shirt until your next sentence causes his features to knot. “And I saw you looking down my shirt by the way.”
Sunday’s throat constricts, a strangled sound squeezing through the tightening space. “Must you really say everything so loudly?” just barely audible from between his clenched teeth.
But he plays it off with a chuckle and a polite “T-that was not the case. Pay her no mind.” as he looks around the library for any ease-droppers or other students. But not even a moment later, when he turns back around, you’re gone. Rushing out of the room with your things and Sunday feels his thoughts begin to churn like a tangled length of barbed threads.
His shoulders drop as the silence settles again. It feels different now, empty. He should be relieved that he’s finally free of you and your teasing, his responsibilities for today now being fulfilled in a way that frees him up to enjoy things that relax him.
But instead, Sunday just begins to quietly gather his own things, seemingly unable to think about anything else other than the past few moments with you. Maybe it’s because his title as President requires him to have a good relationship with the whole student body and you both have never really managed to click, or maybe it’s his lack of progress when it comes to getting you closer to passing your classes. He hates to disappoint after all, especially when the teachers have such high expectations of him. Not that you would ever understand what that’s like.
Or maybe it’s because he can still feel the softness of your skin across the back of his hand.
⸺ ⟢ contents. sunday x fem reader. pseudocest. royal au - they are both members of the church + reader is adopted but you are referred to as brother and sister. minors do not interact. jealousy and yandere behaviour. talk of arranged marriage. sunday is roughly inspired by cezar in how to get my husband on my side. manipulation. obvious sister complex. not outwardly explicit but definitely inappropriate with touches etc.
⸺ ⟢ wc. 2.6k words.
You should be grateful. That’s what your ‘family’ have told you anyway.
Grateful that the church were generous enough to take you in despite the way it may jeopardise their reputation. Grateful that they were willing to save you a seat at their table, allowing you to eat your fill amongst their holiness. Grateful that they would even consider you a chess piece and something worth marrying off for the sake of their own sought after alliances and plans.
So then… why are you crying?
Surely it is condemning to consider yourself hard done by when you’re curled up upon the silk sheets of your chambers after yet another failed proposal? Your recent fiancé had been a good man, he was kind and gentle. Not only that but also considerably handsome and a good warrior as-well. The alliance would’ve been quite favourable for your father… had you not ruined it before it all came to be useful that is.
You’ve come to believe that perhaps there’s something wrong with you, some imperfect, unfavourable trait that stops these suitors from making you their wife and you can’t help but fear disappointing your family.
But with every trip home and eventual rejection it only makes you feel even more useless than you were already made to believe to begin with. And maybe that’s what hurts the most about it all.
As much as being daughter of such an honoured family was sure to come with its own set of privileges given the Pope’s renowned reputation and respect amongst neighbouring nations.
You, were still you.
A stain to that good name that you have spent the best part of your life trying to make up for. There was no blood of the Pope, Gopher Wood in your veins, and he was sure to remind you of that every single day despite the way you were referred to as daughter. Always told that it was simply a title and definitely not a birth right.
But Sunday, your older brother, made up for his father’s cruelty.
In his own…. twisted way.
You can tell it’s Sunday immediately by the sound of his footsteps, a pristine, polished grace to every click before it was closely followed by that same wrap of two knuckles on your bedroom door. He never waited for a response before entering, he never did— he’d always insisted that as your older brother, it was his right to be able to see his family whenever he so required it and now that you both were indeed that— family, there should be no secrets between you both either.
You’re face down in your silk pillows by the time the door quietly pushes open, followed by another silky, careful step before it clicks closed behind him and you hear the knick of the lock despite your own rattling breaths.
You’re a mess really. Having taken the time to slip into your night dress, you’re now barely covered in your hunched over position and your face is no doubt splotchy and tear stained. But when you turn to offer Sunday a pitiful look he’s sure to meet it with nothing short of adoration, perhaps even a little bit of underlying distaste to find you in such a way.
But you think Sunday’s usual put-together and perfect appearance only further emphasises your current sad and sorry one.
He was known for being handsome after all, and that he was; from the favourable colours that he usually chose to wear, sleek shades of navy blues and blacks to the glimmer of gold in his gaze that would match every embellishment. Every line was intentional, every silver hair in place as it rests over his shoulders and every feather from the wings at his neck would be preened to perfection.
He’s outwith his usual service cassock today, opting instead for something sleek and black alongside the usual clerical collar.
Sunday was perfect. Is perfect, many of the things you are not and maybe that’s why you can’t help but find yourself enjoying the attention that he gives you.
As expected from the first son of Gopher Wood, Cardinal Sunday was a distinguishable and respected title amongst the church and kingdoms and he made sure to wear it as such. Even despite his sometimes more….. frowned upon qualities, he loved you, spoiled you even. Perhaps more than any other brother should love their sister, but then again, you were not siblings by blood, simply by obligation.
Even then are you really in any position to argue the expectations of an older brother figure when they’re showing you such unwavering charity?
You sniffle to yourself before stuffing your face back into the silken pillow beneath you, returning to your previous teary state after seeing your older brother only brings back those same feelings of having disappointed him.
But almost instantly, Sunday seems to take more offence to the fact you’ve pulled your gaze away from him than anything else. So he allows himself a few more graceful, quick steps into your quarters until he’s standing at the edge of your bed.
You don’t see the sorry look he gives you, nor do you wish for it, even the thought makes you sob even harder and if Sunday didn’t speak to you with such authority you probably wouldn’t have even have heard his voice at all over your own cries.
“Now, now, my dear sister.” Sunday says with a quick pet of his gloved hands over your hair, the tone of his voice akin to a lullaby as he strokes his hand across your head. “Dry your tears. You know I truly detest seeing you like this, and I’m sure you do not wish to upset me should you be able to help it.”
It’s true, you never wish to upset Sunday and as much as the soft, affectionate tone of his voice soothes you, there’s still an ache in your chest that you can’t quite rid yourself off. You don’t respond to him like you know he’d like, but you manage to quiet yourself down to a hiccup.
A reaction that he doesn’t seem pleased with either when you hear your older brother click his teeth.
“That’s enough now.” Sunday says again, sterner this time despite the still gentle stroke of his hand. “Your reaction could lead one to believe you’re displeased with your failed proposal. Perhaps I was even mistaken to believe you would be grateful to return to the church, does our family mean so little to you?”
“No, No it’s not that at all.” You suddenly find the strength to speak with his accusation, but when your bleary gaze manages to snap to Sunday’s more golden one, you don’t find the look of disgust or betrayal that you expect. Instead he almost looks… gentle, forgiving even. Enough to make your lower lip jut out into a pout when his palm comes to rest at your cheek.
“You’re not mad at me?” You sob a bit, leaning into his hand. “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”
“Not at all, is that was has gotten you in such a sorry state?”
“I…. I don’t know.” You say, because you really don’t.
And Sunday hums before taking a seat on the mattress, his weight causing it to dip at your side before he’s motioning for you to come closer. You know what he’s asking for, without him having to say it and as much as you know it would be considered inappropriate for anyone else, you answer his wordless command without question.
You’re a little clumsy climbing into your older brother’s lap, balancing yourself on his thigh with your back against his chest. And Sunday allows his arms to take their place around you with one fluid motion, clasping at your stomach with his lips just short of the skin on the back of your shoulder.
You fidget a bit, and Sunday offers you the space to get comfortable, waiting until you’re settled before blowing a deliberate breath across the back of your neck.
“Did he touch you?” He asks after a beat, words suddenly tight compared to how soft they were just moments ago. You shake your head in response, not trusting your voice to conceal any hint of disappointment that you know Sunday’s sure to pick up on.
“As I thought.” Sunday hums, and his fingers squeeze around your waist. “That was part of our agreement after all.”
It feels like there’s a momentary lapse in time when Sunday says it and despite the way your tears have seemingly dried, your eyes feel like they go much wider than normal. Suddenly you’re turning in his lap to look at him, unsure of what to say, and Sunday’s looking at you with a look that’s much colder than what you’re used to. His features rest in such a way where he looks almost indifferent, unfamiliar.
He sighs, “Had you learned of your fiancé’s sinful use of his free time I fear I may have lost you entirely. I had to see to it with utmost urgency that we retrieved you from that place at once, lest he make a mockery of the church and break your heart in the process. I would not have my dear sister thought of as a harlot.”
“You did this?”
“I thought being with the family was what you most desired, or do I have it all wrong?” Sunday scoffs, gaze hardening with your reaction, as does his grip on you. “Are we that disposable to you? Am I?”
He knows what he’s doing with the emphasis on the end of his sentence, and it cuts you in the very way he intends it to. But even then it’s hard to look past the fact that the very brother who claims to love you so much, was the very reason your marriage broke down in the first place.
All because what? Your husband had previous lovers in the past? Or was it because he wished to sleep with you?
Your mouth opens then closes again, as if you can’t find the words and Sunday’s eye remain on you, glaring and cold. You shake your head, “That’s not…. that’s not what i’m—“
But he cuts you off with a quick, searing click of his tongue.
“I must say, that is disappointing.” Sunday huffs before glancing away from you, seeming dismissive in a way that makes your skin sting. “After all the forgiveness and generosity that has been extended to you by the church, I would assume you to be more grateful.” But then when he looks at you again, his eyes are soft. His voice slow and silken, as it usually is and his thumb brushes against your lower stomach. “Have I spoiled you too much, my dear sister? Is that it?”
It feels like whiplash with the sudden snap of Sunday’s perfect older brother facade clicking back into place. But even then, your shoulders stay taut, tight with tension as you blink solemnly at your brother and you try not to focus on the way his touch creeping lower makes your skin crawl.
Sunday shifts when you leave him with no answer, “You know how I truly detest repeating myself. Do not make me ask again.”
Another beat and you can’t find the words for some reason. Your heart still aches from the sudden rejection and now you’re on your older brother’s lap in your bedroom figuring out that it wasn’t really sudden at all.
But before you can voice any of that, Sunday’s hands unclasp from around your stomach and shift to different places instead. One heavy on the inside of your thigh, and the other pinching tight at your cheeks. He appears to exhale a breath that’s meant to compose himself before speaking, and you think that’s what makes the soft voice that comes out all the more unsettling.
“You do not require my reprimanding, do you?” Sunday asks again, his hand on your inner thigh gently stroking back and forth while the other holds your face tight.
It’s almost hard for you to shake your head, “No.”
“Then answer me, are you pleased to be home with your older brother again?” You can tell by the hardness of Sunday’s gaze that there is only one correct answer to this.
“Yes.”
“Who, might I add, is the sole reason for you to be allowed to even exist beneath the Pope’s unwavering protection. Who is the only one keeping your best interests in mind when arranging such proposals for their dearest sister.” Sunday emphasises the dearest part as if it’s an insult. As if he’s chastising a child for acting out, for being spoiled. For taking his niceties and his love for granted. His fingers continue to travel higher up your inner thigh with every stroke of his fingers, and you feel something begin to shift in your lower abdomen when they begin to creep beneath the hem of your night dress.
You sniffle a bit, then nod against his grip again. “I know, thank you brother.”
“That’s more like it.” Sunday sighs after a moment of staring at you, and he replaces the tight grip around your cheeks with a soft stroke across your jawline, one you don’t even mean to lean into. “Need I remind you that anyone else would look to take advantage of such naivety? But with myself as Cardinal of the church and your sworn, devoted older brother, that will never be the case. Do you remember?”
“I remember.” You say, glassy eyed as your older brother’s fingers draw circles in your inner, upper thigh. Enough to make you fidget on his lap while his free hand rests at the base of your neck.
“I swore myself to you the moment I brought you off of that wretched street, did I not? Had I not come across you then you would still be with the rats. And to earn the favour of Father’s forgiveness, you… blindly trusted me and abided by the rules I set, for your own sake.” Sunday recalls the memories back to you, his words bending into a seemingly regretful chime. But then they harden again, even if only slightly. “You promised me, didn’t you? That you would behave and that you would never leave me. Yes? You do not wish for me to lose faith in your promises now, do you, my dear sister?”
You feel shameful you think. Perhaps because that’s how you’re supposed to feel in these moments, with Sunday’s desperate gaze looking up at you and his hand up your dress. The other still rests on the base of your neck and when you try to turn your head away it moves quickly to push it back, making sure you look at him before he settles himself with another sigh.
Sunday presses a quick kiss to the skin of your shoulder and then he looks at you, features softening in a way that almost distracts you from his fingers at the hem of your underwear.
“Surely you realise what is at stake. What I sacrificed in order to allow you such comfort and luxury? Tell me then, why would I have done such a thing?” Sunday asks, expecting an answer this time. You try not to shake in his hold, but you respond.
“Because you protect me and you love me.”
Sunday hums and moves again beneath you, just enough for him to nose at your jawline, urging you to turn just enough for his lips to ghost yours. He watches you, his wrist bunching up your dress from where it’s moving beneath it, “And what do we say to that, my dear sister? Loud enough so I can hear you, remember.”
“I love you, brother.” You say, and Sunday appears to reward you with another stroke of his fingertips, followed by a small, chaste peck on your lips that you know better than to pull away from.
“Yes, then you shall never leave this family. Remember?”
I think Moze is a gentle kisser— at first. He’s careful with you and kisses you gently, softly as he cups his hand around the base of your neck but then he’s not sure if it’s accidental or not— the way you let out a soft little whine when he presses more of his weight into you. And it’s terribly unfair the way it makes something in his pants throb, like his last string of sanity snaps, whatever was helping him hold himself back gone before he’s kissing you deeper— and a little messier as his hands grab at your hips.
It’s one smooth movement the way he’s able to move you onto his lap, and you can only exhale a shaky breath against his lips as he curls his tongue along your own— groaning when your thighs slot over both of his and his hands are on you again. They move with purpose now, to squeeze into your hips— pulling more of your weight against him as he twists into your mouth and you already feel so kiss-drunk and warm now.
“Is this too much?” Moze hums, grunts against the wet press of your lips, every kiss is wet and loud and he palms at you again— pressing his hands beneath the hem of your shirt to touch at your bare skin and you can’t help but arch into him.
It’s intoxicating, the way his tongue presses into yours and the careful loss of oxygen almost makes your head spin as you both gasp between presses of your mouth. It makes your lungs quake when you use them to gasp out a soft reassurance of, “N-no, it’s fine! Keep going.”
But Moze seems to like that— enjoys how breathless you are from his kisses and he’s squeezing at your skin now, rocking up into you with careful rolls of his body and despite how overwhelmed you feel and strong he is, you feel great. You’re lightheaded with want, but he moves you so easily, kisses you so well as he all but groans against you.
He’s been holding back all this time and it’s only when he bites on your lower lip softly now that you see it. Now that your chest is pressed tight against his and he’s rocking your body in time with the way his tongue is pushing up against yours, pressing his name between your lips as he gives you a particularly strong, long squeeze of his hands on your hips. To pull you closer, to ease your hips into his.
Moze’s voice is wound up tight when he eventually responds to you, words pressed lowly into your mouth.
⭒ there isn’t much that alhaitham has encountered that seems to test his brilliance, he’s always been satisfied with coasting through life as he is… but he finds that having you beneath him for the first time seems to test him in a different way. 8113 words.
fem reader x alhaitham. inexperienced alhaitham. first times together. fingering (no penetration) you stay over at his home. you’ve been dating a few months. some playful banter - bickering. creampies. ₊ 𓂃 masterlist.
it was uncommon for something to test ALHAITHAM’s knowledge - he tends to find even the most obscure of books to be quite easily deciphered by his brain and smarts.
he always desired success, but more than that hes always desired an easy life despite his brilliance, which leads to most people’s surprise when it comes to his unwillingness to aspire for higher office. he liked to keep his life intact and uninterrupted and the scribes work is simple, which is exactly why he was eager to return to the position after his resignation as acting grand sage.
alhaitham will wake early as he always does, feeling refreshed at 6am. the air in sumeru is perfect at that time before it becomes a little stuffier in the late afternoon, but for now, it’s just right.
a coffee will be waiting for him in the kitchen by 6:15 and he’ll set out for the akademiya by 6:40. but in the moments in between he’ll be here, leaning against the door frame to his bedroom - still nursing his morning brew and he’ll watch the way you make the sheets over you rustle as you search for him.
seeing you in his bed does something foolish to his heart, although he’ll hide it well.
alhaitham takes a slow inhale as he watches you push your way into the warm place that he’s left behind in the mattress, although his absence is still felt - he finds it quite cute that you still seek him out despite that. still, it doesn’t take you long to notice him standing there, maybe down to him subtly seeming to always make his presence known as he shuffles on his feet, clearing his throat until you lift your head at the sound.
you’ll smile at him and he’ll feel inwardly delighted to find you drowsy although half awake to see him off.
“i’ll be leaving now, you’ll still be here when i return?” alhaitham’s question echos as he takes a few quiet steps closer and you’ll turn to face him as he stops at the side of your now shared bed, resting down on the space you leave free for him to sit. the way the mattress sinks down beneath his weight welcomes you closer and he’ll gaze down at you for a quiet moment until you reply.
“hmmm, is that okay?” you staying the night at his place was a recent development, but it’s one that he’s found comfort in considering the months that you have both been seeing eachother.
it was unfamiliar that something or even more someone would have alhaitham eager to leave the akademiya earlier than usual, to pack up his books and take them to go. still, he was more pleased at the prospect of his presence making someone happy for once; given his limited romantic (and even platonic) experience, no one ever really found his company to be as desirable as you did.
he never found being social to be one of life’s necessities, and most people found themselves at odds with him given his uncompromising view on rationality and the truth. but the way you look up at him, still drowsy as you sink into his pillows makes him swallow to quell the flutter in his heart before he opts to reply.
“i don’t mind.” alhaitham replies as unwavering as always, but still he finds it quite awe-inspiring that the plain reply makes you smile up at him.
he’s not unaware of how basically giving you an invitation to come and go from his own private space as you please comes as almost another next step in your blooming relationship. but somehow he doesn’t mind, and he has a feeling that you don’t either.
“okay, then i’ll be waiting for you.” you murmur but the words are sweet albeit quiet, and you give him an innocent glance through your lashes before tilting your head back invitingly. alhaitham doesn’t have to consider the movement long, it has become a part of his routine at this point as he leans down to share a delicate kiss with you.
the pillows next to you sink lower as his palm presses beside your head to keep himself steady and although the kiss is short, he can’t help but realise the feeling of having you beneath him like this makes his heart race. he feels your light touch press softly along his forearm as he pulls away, and something deep within him seems to long to climb into bed beside you to seek out more of it.
you’ve shared deeper kisses before, normally following a night at the tavern after a few glasses of wine. they’re normally full of teeth; the type that leave your lips slick with spit and swollen, alhaitham’s tongue pressing tight against yours, hands wandering and squeezing.
but they’ve never went further than that, and you’ve never complained either.
it’s a sudden, odd reminder as he pushes himself to sit up straight again, suddenly warmer than he was a moment ago. he licks his lips and takes another sip of his coffee, “if there’s nothing to do, you could always stop by.” by the akademiya he means, he wonders if it comes across overbearing given he’s with you right now - but it seems his words got away from him before he could think logically for once.
your eyes sparkle up at him and alhaitham watches intently at the way you cutely wrap yourself up in his sheets again. the request surprises both of you, but you seem to pick up on his internal thought process before even he does.
“it’s okay, i know how much you like your alone time. i’ll just wait for you to come back.. and im not sure i want to get up yet.” you murmur, sleepy and pretty again while the scribe gives you an almost relieved, albeit barely noticeable chuckle.
“evidently.” your eyes flutter at the amused sound of his voice and alhaitham’s palm reaches out to squeeze at your shoulder before he pushes himself to stand again, taking another sip of his coffee as he smiles around the shape of the mug and he’ll leave to begin his day.
it’s an easy life, but just as much a fulfilling one.
the akademiya is quiet when he arrives, although he still opts to wear his soundproof earpieces to avoid any unnecessary distractions as he thumbs through the expansive collection of difficult and abstruse books he’s got spread out on the table infront of him.
alhaitham doesn’t have any official duties to do today, so his time spent here is for his own personal enjoyment, it feels good.
the hours will go by and he won’t notice, nobody will bother him and he’ll be relaxed - but then his mind will wander to you and suddenly he’s having a harder time focusing than he was before.
he wonders what you’re doing - if you’ve managed to pull yourself out of bed yet, he’s noticed that his sheets have begun to smell like your shampoo, the scent caught between the seams and he thinks he’s been sleeping better for it.
alhaitham wonders if you’ve eaten, if you managed to wake before the coffee he’d left on the counter for you went cold and if you’re thinking of him. most people found him difficult to get along with but you had no trouble, to much of his surprise and well… everyone else’s who found out about your relationship despite the months you’ve already lasted (another surprise given how others seemed to take his personality.)
you were quite the opposite from eachother afterall, but balanced eachother out in that sense too. you had no trouble unravelling his personality and picking up on his comedic timing, unlike most. you were quick to bat back his witty remarks, like it was equal give and take and even despite his intricacies and his lacking intimate experience, you still learned exactly how to tease him in a way that he didn’t even know existed.
alhaitham wonders if you’re satisfied with how your relationship is right now - he’s never openly admitted that he’s never participated in a relationship nevermind a.. casual partnership, but he thinks the fact is pretty obvious given his reputation and small social circle.
it’s not that he hasn’t thought about it.. with you, not at all; knowledge, an easy path, brilliance - alhaitham has desired a lot in his life but he’s never desired anything as much as he desires you.
if anything, he’s rather indignant of the insinuation that he would need atleast a little hand holding through your first shared moments of intimacy, but deep down knows it’s somewhat going to be required. although that doesn’t mean he’s willing to admit it, he instead has started to secretly look up a manner of lewd things and certain advice columns he’s found around sumeru that are specifically written by women to learn about how to actually please one.
it’s embarrassing to admit, but unfortunately alhaitham’s brilliance doesn’t expand to these necessities.
he’s even went as far as to hide a few books from the akademiya between the particularly off putting ones he brings home, using it as a means to keep any visitors from prying further into his new topic of interests.
the last thing he needs is kaveh spilling it to the whole tavern after a few cups of wine.
although with this realisation, alhaitham’s found that his home has become somewhat littered with said magazines and pieces from the bulletin board that kaveh always seems to leave lying around, and as much as he’s considered that it was probably deliberate on his roommates part considering they only started to appear when you both started dating - he’s still read them cover to cover without much of a second thought.
for your sake,
he knows it won’t make up for actual experience, but if anything, it helps to ease his nerves knowing he won’t be completely clueless when the opportunity finally comes.
although alhaitham does wonder when it will - he’s found his mind slipping to more odd places whenever you both share a close proximity, even a kiss has him somehow clouded with hormones in a way that’s quite unfathomable, but it’s become somewhat familiar given how much time you’ve both been spending together.
he’s even found himself dreaming of the encounter; of how you’d feel when his hands slide across your bare thighs, tracing along your spine and it surprises him at how much he seems to crave it, alongside the rest of your touch now that you’ve both become well aquinted with kisses and other shows of casual affection (in private that is).
he’s even gotten quite comfortable sleeping pressed up against you in a way he finds to be quite bothersome… given he knows it’s not a permanent situation.. not for now atleast.
and with that realisation, alhaitham finds himself beginning to return his books back to their respective shelves again as he wills himself to get ready to leave. he’ll tell himself it’s not because he wants to see you, but simply because he’s done enough for the day and finds rest to be just as rewarding.
but when he takes a look at the clock to recognise it’s around 5pm already, still earlier than he would usually stay - his first thought is where you’ll be when he returns back home.
it’s a little warmer now, as alhaitham had predicted it would be as he makes his way back down the street towards his house. but he doesn’t think the weather is to blame for how restrictive his clothes suddenly feel; it seems his thoughts had gotten away from him during his time alone, although they only left him with a sense of longing that seems to bleed through his body.
it’s a deep-seated desire that lingers when his fingers press his keys into the lock of his door and he steps into his home, locking it behind him as he realises the soft music that’s playing through the corridor as he does.
it seems you waited for him, like you said you would and it makes his fingers almost shake.
you’re sitting with your profile to alhaitham as he walks into the living room, your legs are bare and for a second he wonders if you’re wearing anything to cover them at all until he sees the small peek of your shorts from under your shirt. your skin looks soft underneath the light of his home, most likely just freshly cleaned considering how he can still smell the slight hint of the body wash you’d brought with you - the lightly sweet scent isn’t overbearing, but it’s enough to make him burn regardless.
“welcome back.” you hum from your place on the couch, finally lifting your gaze from one of the magazine’s that kaveh no doubt left lying around for him to find and you both share a long look.
it takes alhaitham a second to respond, watching the way your legs stretch beneath you before you cross one over the other and offer him a tilted look.
“you seem to be keeping yourself busy.” alhaitham exhales, lifting a brow at you - he’s teasing ofcourse but his reply makes you smile, and he watches the way your neck and shoulders move as you sway to get comfortable. “i guess an empty schedule does indicate a more leisurely day.”
there’s a sense of boldness to him suddenly - maybe it’s the quiet epiphany that he’d had at the akademiya about your relationship or maybe it’s the little smirk that you’re wearing when you greet him.
whatever it is, it seems to urge alhaitham to close the distance between you both quickly as you opt to drop your magazine to focus on him instead - pushing it to the side to reveal more of your alluring thighs to him.
“you’re home early.” you state as you lean forward to watch him, there’s an emotion in your eyes - a heaviness, that he’s not quite familiar with. “is there a reason for that?” it’s an almost suggestive question, but it’s enough to make his clothes feel suddenly all too restrictive against his body as he clears his throat.
“oh? well judging by how you look right now, i think it’s safe to assume you were waiting for me.” he alhaitham teases as he approaches you, and it surprises you both when his first instinct is to lean in to press a quick kiss to your lips before he rests in the space on the couch beside you.
the sudden affection making you giggle as you urge yourself to wiggle a little closer, thighs knocking against his softly as his large palm comes to rest on the skin. “well i did say i would be, i didn’t realise it would make you hurry home.”
“well, something came up and i deemed it essential to deal with it, is all.” alhaitham’s fingers are soft as they dig gently into the muscles of your thighs - exploring the skin with tenative presses as he ignores the throb in his cock.
“do you wanna tell me what that is?” it’s another sultry question but it makes him tug at your thighs again until they’re able to fall softly over his own, holding you there as his eyes glimmer.
alhaitham huffs but his heart pounds, he wonders if you notice the way you’re leaning into him- if you can feel the clamminess of his palms against your skin but he can’t help himself.
he doesn’t even realise his touch seems to be trailing higher up your thighs with each inhale he takes, it’s like you’re luring him in - he isn’t sure if you’re deliberately parting your thighs to give way to his touch or if he’s imagining it. but the new skin feels like silk as he explores it, squeezing and palming at you, watching as you give him even more room to grope you.
he clears his throat to hide the effect it has on him, “i respect your curiosity, but… since im off the clock now, i dont have to answer any questions.” he goads, trying to deflect from how warm he feels with a soft chuckle.
but you’re ready for that, as you always are. “you were never on the clock, it’s your day off.” your voice takes a deliberately quieter drawl and alhaitham wonders if it’s on purpose or if that means it isn’t only him who can feel the tense atmosphere between you both right now.
“you couldn’t tell that was an excuse?” he feels his neck flare hot as you shiver beneath his hands, and he drops a kiss against your shoulder quickly before he looks at you again, closer now. your eyelashes flutter as his fingers continue their movements up your thighs and he squeezes again, close enough to hear the way it makes your breathing hitch.
alhaitham’s aware of his lacking experience when it comes to skinship and casual intimacy but he wonders if you can tell he’s trying. his thought process today only seems to have lamented that he feels like your gradual journey into more casual intimacy has opened a door for him to finally banish any of his concerns.
it’s like a sudden determination burns through him, beneath his clothes and fingertips as they press into the upper skin on your thigh - exploring the new environment as his fingertips trail towards the space between them. he swipes tentatively along the inside and he almost forgets to breathe when he feels the way it makes you twitch.
alhaitham looks at you, not trusting he’ll be able to look anywhere else without burning up completely. “in truth, i just felt like spending some of my free time with you.. i’ve heard people find it to be more personal that way.”
a sudden, lighthearted giggle leaves you as your fingers come to press against his chest - the touch feels like unspoken permission of some sort, and you’re close enough for him to feel the way your words fan along his features. “well i’m definitely not going to complain about that, trying to read your books to keep myself entertained wasn’t exactly fun.” you pout, cutely and he’s never wanted to kiss you as much as he wants to now.
another press of his fingertips closer along the inside of your thigh, and he can feel the fabric to the hem of your shorts, halting suddenly in fear that he’s went too far but you gasp, twitch again - and he craves to be even closer.
“well i do enjoy seeing others scratch their head in confusion when they try, you should’ve waited until i got home.” the teasing undertone to your conversation remains but it’s lower now, spoken beneath bated breathes - swallowed by anticipation as your lips ghost each others and your fingers smooth along his chest.
“you wanted to see me confused?” your head tilts, corners of your lips twitching to smile and alhaitham feels something pang in his heart. he’s nervous, definitely - it’s most likely obvious in the way his fingers haven’t moved again since he’s stopped at the hem of your shorts.
so instead, he taps at the skin - sighing in an attempt to push past his anxious inexperience. “not exactly the idea i had in mind.” his heart pounds as he thumbs at the silken press of your inner thighs, although he’s sure you pick up on the implication of his words.
bold, but factual as he always is.. confused wasn’t exactly the expression he longed for you to be wearing his mind, you seem to pick up on that.
“and what was your idea exactly?” your hand on alhaitham’s chest comes up to hook around his shoulders and your thighs seem to knock open a little wider again. it’s a delicate, gradual process so he lets himself take things slow - one thing at a time as his eyes lift to meet yours again.
“i was only joking.” his words drawl lowly and it makes your lashes flutter,
“about which part?” another breath closer and he can basically feel the way your lips would taste against his, sweet and soft, another tap of his fingertips and alhaitham’s cock throbs.
his fingers tease beneath the fabric of your shorts, he should’ve asked first, so he wills himself to not go any further because of the fact as he swallows. “ill be sure to pick up some more easily digestible books next time i visit the akademiya.. its just rare for me to find a book that challenges me, is all.” he knows he’s avoiding the subject, but even just the slight press of his touch beneath your clothes has him almost panting.
“you know that’s not what i’m talking about.” your drawl seems to vibrate through the space in alhaitham’s living room and he feels it throb beneath his skin when he truly realises the accompanying close proximity as his lips ghost yours. your skin feels warm beneath his palms and he wonders if you’re aware of just how much he wants you, needs you - his fingers swipe softly, back and forth along the space beneath your shorts and he decides to throw caution to the wind when he gets that first real, accidental feel of your underwear.
“very well then..” he doesn’t kiss you at first like he wants to, instead he starts at your cheek as he closes the distance, then your ear as you press into him and he hears the way your soft breathing seems to hitch when he does. “may i show you?”
“please, touch me.” you plead softly, quickly—without a moments hesitation and alhaitham exhales the breath he didn’t even realise he was holding before his lips finally find their way to yours.
you feel his large hands flex into your skin as he kisses you and you part your mouth willingly, breathing into him as he pushes his tongue between your lips, nose pressing against your cheek as he twists softly into you and you deepen it. your legs part as he kisses you senseless and despite the nervousness building in his throat—you’d think he was as quietly confident as ever, making you melt beneath him despite the way his fingers beneath your shorts still halt in their movements.
“will this do?” alhaitham mumbles against your mouth, the change in his tone is filthy—he’s unaware of it, but it still carries that lighthearted teasing demeanour— although dreamy and dripping with want and need this time is the only difference.
unknowing to him its the sort of switch that makes your pussy ache and your breath come in uneven gasps against his lips as you exhale, and he’s smart enough to pick up on your answer before you have a chance to say it.
infact, he knew the answer before he even asked the question.
you dont respond, instead you offer him a pretty little whine that explains exactly how you’re feeling perfectly and the sound is even sweeter than he could’ve ever imagined because alhaitham’s never had a woman moan for him like you do, in this moment, at his words, when his fingers are beneath the hem of your shorts, stroking at your skin because he’s not too sure where to go from here.
he’s pressing his chest tight into yours and he feels his cock throb at the way you’re nodding, eager and needy, grabbing at him—needing him.
he feels your hand cover his as you push it out from beneath your shorts and he swallows heavy as he pulls away from the kiss, because your next movement trails it along your body to where you need him to touch you and your drool worthy thighs spread as much as they can this time as alhaitham admires you.
the movement only serves to reveal more of your beautiful skin to him as he offers you a quick look that doesn’t last nearly as long as he needs it too.
it’s a delicate process—feeling out the intricacies of your reactions and preferences, alhaitham’s expected it but he reminds himself of that, that knowledge comes gradually. he thinks back to the endless research he’s consumed, the columns and magazine, the hours he’s taken to learn about the female body and the way it works, but he needs to know yours inside and out.
he’s not naive enough to expect to come without a little trial and error, so he leans back from you—begrudgingly as the cold air in the room brushes through where you both were pressed together.
but alhaitham needs a better angle as his fingers stroke experimentally, softly along the warm fabric of your thin shorts, exploring the intimate skin and he sucks in a breath when your thighs twitch—his fingers brushing over a spot that he assumes is your clit with the way it makes you shudder.
he looks at you—your face is pinched, lower lip caught between your teeth with a gaze that’s heavy, almost suffocating with how warm it makes him burn. he allows himself a little longer to explore, to pet between your legs and he doesn’t realise how much he’s teasing you until you’re hiccuping, pleading softly.
“please.. you’re teasing me!” you pout—choked and needy, and it makes alhaitham pause in his movements when he realises the way you’re breathing hard, begging him.
“hm? im just simply curious is all.” he wonders if you pick up on the look he gives you—peering up at you through his own lidded gaze because to put it simply.. he may require some guidance, and he can tell you get the hint when you smile after, giggling, although it’s in no means to humiliate him with his implication.
alhaitham watches the way you move, quickly pushing down your shorts and underwear in one quick moment and kicking off the fabric to reveal yourself to him in your entirety. its incredibly lewd—unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined when you lean back to let him truly look at you. your smaller hand covers his next as you guide him back down and the heat seems to welcome him while you use your free hand to spread your folds.
“here, touch me here.” you part your lower lips, allowing his fingertips to explore the slick that’s gathered between them and despite the way you’re laid bare for him—he finds himself still wanting to look into your eyes as he does.
“mind if i take it slowly?” alhaitham asks earnestly, fingers petting through your folds, he recognises the perineum—he’s sure if he went lower he’d feel the pucker of your asshole but he clears his throat before he does. instead, opting to press over what he knows is your clit because he recognises it immediately when he watches you twist.
but he confirms it when you press his hand down onto the sensitive bud harder and oh, it makes him ache in his pants as he watches you nod when you tell him it’s fine.
it’s all new territory for alhaitham; it’s much different, warmer than the diagrams that he’s seen in books shows but it’s better too, although maybe that’s because of you as he lets himself explore and map out the petals of your pussy for himself.
“take your time..” you gasp, and your drawl seems to vibrate through the space you both occupy— followed by a murmur of alhaitham’s name that makes something warm burst along the back of his neck as he readjusts himself enough to push closer to you, fumbling only slightly before he’s finding a pace and rubbing at you with two fingers.
he’s feeding into every reaction, every twitch, committing it to memory and remembering that exact combination—the exact expression you’re wearing and he can’t look away.. he doesn’t want to.
you pull alhaitham closer and he lets you so easily, your hands wrapping behind his shoulders as you almost rest in his lap, thighs still resting over his despite the way they’re spread now—half balancing on the couch but he holds you steady with his free arm as it wraps around your waist.
your head almost rests on his shoulder and it only makes it easier for him to hear the way you’re whispering needily, begging him to not stop—to keep doing that and it only drives him to press down harder, to experiment as he pushes beneath your folds, rubbing circles around your puffy clit as he smears your potent slick along your cunt.
alhaitham’s watching your body melt, drinking you up in a way that’s so intoxicating that he feels like his ears are ringing. he could study you like his favourite project, intricate and gentle, except you’re leaps more beautiful than any book he’s ever read. he would never tire of it, he’d read you from page to page—cover to cover and then all over again.
the slick between your legs is only intensifying—making it easier for him to keep his pace as he swirls his wrist and he feels your clit get firmer, more swollen and puffy with each movement.. you were sensitive, soaked.
he remembers it, the articles, these are good signs.
so alhaitham asks, “how does it feel?” and his voice comes out lower than he expects, strained and rough, driven by the weight of his own arousal. he’s a little more confident now, moving with a little more reassurance and you cast him a starry-eyed glance.
“it feels so good.” you murmur, barely before you’re suddenly pulling him in for another kiss and he suddenly feels more lightheaded now than he did before you even started. his fingers curl up to press all around the topography of your pussy, almost in time with the way his tongue presses against yours and everytime he realises what he’s doing, the intimacy of your situation, he feels himself almost fumble his pace.
the kiss only breaks when your head rolls back to moan, and alhaitham had never expected it to be so arousing watching you like this—he didn’t realise how much his cock would ache for you.
he clears his throat again, adding another finger to the two he already has on you as he continues to rub at you and you gasp. “yesyesyes, like that!”
he smirks, mostly to himself as his eyes narrow at you. “interesting. so this is how you respond to me? i didn’t expect you to be quite this sensitive.” his confidence grows but his words are still quiet, whispered—alhaitham feels the way his teasing makes you jerk, fingers reaching at his bicep to squeeze and something clicks in his brilliant mind as he looks at you.
“keep doing that… please!” he pushes against you, doing exactly as you please as his lips smear against your cheek and your fingers almost squeeze hard enough to leave marks from where they’re grabbing at him.
alhaitham huffs, cock heavy in his slacks as it throbs but he keeps the pressure on your pussy as he drinks you up, trailing his fingertips back up to your clit before he’s bearing down eagerly on the bud until you squeak.
“oh? so, based on my observations… it’s here, right?” you gasp before your thighs are suddenly stiffening and slapping closed around his wrist when you finally cum. “my thoughts exactly.” you quake around him, head dropping back as his other arm keeps you from falling over completely. but he takes the opportunity to press kisses up the column of your throat—keeping up his movements and letting you ride out your orgasm as your hips twist and jolt with every rub of his fingers against your clit.
alhaitham prolongs your blissful state until you’re pushing at his hand, whimpering at the oversensitivity and he feels sticky when he pulls away—incredibly aware of how uncomfortably hard he is too but he’s too busy looking at you to excuse himself to deal with it, because you’re beautiful.
you look hazy and pliant and he hugs you closer in an attempt to help you sit back up straight as he speaks, trying to remain unwavering with his next words. “how’re you feeling? don’t rush now.” he says earnestly and your gaze lifts to meet his as you take a deep breath, still blissful in the aftershocks of your orgasm.
“what do they teach you in those books?” you laugh, still breathless, but it’s not mocking—it’s warm and comforting and accompanied by a smile that makes alhaitham’s cock jump as you wiggle your way closer, petting your palm down his chest.
he chuckles softly before he snorts, realising that you’re referring to the books he’d smuggled back from the akademiya, he should’ve known you’d find one eventually.
“in truth, i don’t think any amount of book learning would make up for the value of experience, although i guess i can’t deny it’s effectivessness. afterall, i’d say it managed to leave you quite satisfied, wouldn’t you agree?” his fingers reaches to brush softly along your lower lip and your eyes seem to still carry that same lidded, sultry look they had a moment ago.
“mhm, i’d like to go further.. if you’re ready that is? or we can wait.” alhaitham’s own lust blown pupils meet yours and he nods almost too eagerly, before he’s clearing his throat to cover up his eagerness with his words.
“well.. to put it simply, dealing with you right now is my top priority and since you seem to have a curious affinity for my research, you only have to ask.” still, his fingers squeeze at your skin and he feels like his heart is about to burst out of his chest.
“well i’d like you to show me what you’ve learned.” you giggle, gaze lidded and blown and it makes something burn in alhaitham as he stares at you, heavy lids and parted lips when your fingers trail down to his pants and he pushes your thighs to the side gently to stand up from the couch, facing you in the hopes of making your venture easier.
“very well.” he’s nervous, ofcourse, but you’re beautiful and soothing and he helps you as you let your fingertips work at his clothes despite the intricacies. you handle him so carefully, and he watches you like he’s hypnotised, completely.
your pretty fingers tug at the fabric, peeling piece by piece delicately from alhaitham’s body to reveal what’s hidden beneath—the muscle, the soft press of his skin, and he finds himself swallowing thick when the damp patch of pre-cum staining his boxers becomes visible next.
he mutters out a sorry before he’s clearing his throat awkwardly again and you’re grinning at him with a smile that says it’s okay.
he sighs when you finally pull down the restraints of his boxers, the sting of sudden sexual freedom only emphasising how painfully hard he is when he feels the air in his home fan over his heightened nerves.
alhaitham knows that he’s smart, that his knowledge is incomparable to any regular scholar at the akademiya despite him just being the scribe. but he’s never felt quite as out of his depth as he does now, watching the way you admire the way his cock stands between you both, before you’re blinking up at him with a pretty look that’s nothing short of pleading.
it doesn’t take long until he’s over you again—you lure him in easily when you push yourself back on the couch to lie flat on your back, and he follows, in a sort of hormone-fuelled trance as he presses himself over you. his cock rests above your spread thighs as he kneels between them, just over your pussy where he’s about to be buried and one of his palms press into the cushions beside your head to keep himself upright as the other rests on your hips.
he internally thanks the gods for the permanent financial freedom that came alongside his temporary position as acting grand sage, ensuring he was able to buy a couch big enough for things such as this.
alhaitham looks down at you beneath him and inhales sharp at the weight of what he’s about to do—opting to try and smooth his own hidden anxieties by pressing a gentle kiss against your temple, and your thighs press into his hips as you guide him closer.
“sorry, i may still be a little sensitive.” you breathe and he only nods at first, not immediately trusting his voice not to break under the weight of his own lust as he situates his hips between your spread thighs next to kiss you again, eventually pulling back to agree after a few short seconds.
“my thoughts exactly, so ill take it slow. although i expect you’ll let me know if anything hurts?” alhaitham voice drawls, and his abdomen tightens suddenly with a shock of pleasure when your hands reach between you both to wrap around the base of his cock, giving it a few languid pumps as he trembles over you.
but before you can answer, he groans at the way he can already feel you so close and his hand on your hip curls into your skin when you swipe the blunt head of his cock through your folds. “i will. let me know if you want to stop.”
it’s quite troublesome the effect you have on alhaitham already, rubbing your slick all over his cock, and the small whimper that leaves your lips everytime it catches under the hood of your still sensitive clit has his mind blanking.
his cock twitches in your hold when he feels it prod at your flexing hole, until his eyes flutter closed in bliss when he finally begins to sink into you, face screwing up into something that’s almost strained—although still as handsome as he always is.
not that alhaitham shows you much of his lewd expression when he’s suddenly leaning closer to hide his face in the crook of your neck instead, cursing softly with a mixture of need and delight as he continues to push into you. “you do look breathtaking when you‘re swallowing me in.” he grits, tight lipped as he praises you. “you’re doing good, just like that.”
your thighs twitch at either side of him when he grazes past your swollen sweet spot, making him groan when your walls reward the stretch of his cock with another needy squeeze around him and now he knows that book learning alone was never going to make up for real life experience because this is incredible.
no amount of carefully curated pages and articles could’ve prepared him for the sweet hug of your cunt around him, trembling and warm—he feels completely at your mercy when you mutter out a sweet little ‘ts too much, i can’t.
alhaitham’s cock is long, pretty and thick and making your stretched pussy clench hard around him the deeper he goes. “truly convincing words for someone who’s taking me so well.” he grumbles, smearing messy kisses along your skin as you grab and scratch at his toned shoulders—almost urging him to press you deeper into the couch cushions beneath you as his weight bared down on you.
he grunts lowly when he finally bottoms out, leaning the weight of his hips against yours as his fingers grope a little too hard at your skin and he can feel his fingers and toes curl with the intimacy he feels in this moment. his eyes are clenched shut as he tries not to lose himself in the needy coax of your pussy so soon—he can’t completely humiliate himself like that, his inexperience was already enough for the one day.
“you’re okay?” alhaitham breathes, his voice sounding more strained than he expects but he still manages to pull back to admire how pretty you look beneath him. you push yourself up to kiss him once on the cheek to agree and mumble something affirming that has him chuckling before he’s drawing his hips back.
but then your pussy flexes again, as if it’s trying to coax back in every inch you lose and he grunts, his jaw clenching before a breathier croon of your name falls from his lips.
alhaitham’s first real thrust is a little too eager—but it’s experimental as he tries to understand the science behind his movements and he grumbles to himself like it’s a critique, before readjusting his knees on the couch again. eventually, beginning a real pace that’s a little steadier, one that has your toes curling when he hugs you closer, listening to him pant and growl softly between your moans.
it’s quite terrifying, the brilliance of his mind and how easily it seems to figure things out and adapt, much like it is now.
he makes a frustrated noise at how well you seem to fit around him, “i didn’t realise you’d feel this good, although in truth—i can’t say that i didn’t expect it. you seem to fit around me quite perfectly.”
your hips grind up to meet his and unknowing to alhaitham, you’re surprised at how good he feels, not realising it’s because he’s back to focusing on your reactions like he was before, he knows what he’s looking for now. the furrow of your brows, the way your mouth is dropping open to moan and the way your pussy is clenching around him tighter everytime he rocks forward—this is new, but now that he knows what you look like when you cum he knows he won’t be satisfied until he sees it again.
he was aware of the human body, although he’s never done research that felt quite as good as this—pushing his cock against something sensitive inside of you while his strong grasp keeps you in place. you’re as wet as you were before if not more and he feels like he’s mapping out every nerve in your body with each stroke, unaware of the way his own will seems to be wavering with his pleasure.
“y-you’re so good! don’t stop.” you cry, babble on the end of his cock.
alhaitham’s pace only increases, gets faster, needier as he curses roughly until your body is jolting, “say… say that again.” he needs you to. he’s experimenting—much to your enjoyment and he’s using your praise as a means of motivation with each quick thrust leaving you breathless and driven by his pure determination to watch how pretty you look cumming around his cock.
so you do, “p-please, it’s too good!” and each smack of his hips becomes loud and clapping, the sound echoing around the dim living room as his pelvis grinds against your clit, leaving you to trail pretty, raised marks across his shoulders, stretching along his back with your nails.
“to.. to put it simply i don’t think ill last much longer.” alhaitham gulps, words almost like an apology but there’s a confidence to him now that he’s learning.
so his hand on your hips opts to suddenly trace between your bodies until he’s rolling your puffy clit in sticky circles, replicating his earlier movements and pairing it with the back and forth stutter of his hips, until your breath is skipping and he feels your pussy throb around him. “hm, so i was right. that’s interesting.” he grits, still smug despite the way you’re squeezing him because that is your spot.
“i’m gonna, fuck!” you squeal and alhaitham groans low,
“that’s alright, let me help you.” his hips press into yours, snug and tight at the first milking compression of your walls and he bites his lip to hold himself back—panting over you as he coaxes and fucks you through another mind numbing orgasm.
“although i’m not quite finished admiring you myself yet, hope you don’t mind.” he rasps and the words roll down your spine and make your eyes roll back, each thrust cutting off your needy, breathless chants of his name as a ring of gooey liquid forms around the base of his cock everytime his hips draw back.
your breathing becomes laboured as drowsiness sets in and alhaitham finally lets himself go. his cock throbs and thickens inside of you as he squeezes at your hips—his brows crumbling while he pants above you and there’s a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead, his silver hair sticking slightly as he loses himself in the fluttering pull of your body and your cunt.
he groans, scratchy and breathless, when he lets the hot rush of bliss finally consume him and he buries it in you, shooting ropes of his creamy load into the snug fit of your cunt as you tremble in the aftermath of your own bliss.
although alhaitham is careful as to not crush you beneath him completely as he feels himself come down, trembling when he pushes himself back to rest on his knees between your spread thighs. he lets himself watch for a moment, transfixed on the way his load seems to follow him from your pussy as he slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, causing you to shudder and twitch as he does.
you feel his fingertips rest around your ankle a moment later before they trace up your calf, an affectionate touch given the weight of intimacy that still seems to settle over the room. he doesn’t realise you’re staring until his gaze lifts to admire you and you’re smiling, making him feel suddenly hot as he clicks his tongue, trying to pretend he wasn’t just caught admiring how full he’s just stuffed you.
“enough gawking.” alhaitham huffs but his grumpy words only seem to urge you to wiggle closer as his hand squeezes around your calf gently. it moves to your thigh next, covering you in featherlight palms and light presses of his fingers like he’s trying to ease any aches he may have caused.
the room is quiet despite your shared pants and the still subtle drawl of the music you’d been playing when he returned home until your giggle echos a moment later, “you must’ve done a lot of research.” lighthearted and sweet.
and alhaitham looks at you, gives your skin another squeeze as his fingertips trail back down to your calf “i merely studied the material that was required, but you seemed to enjoy yourself, so i need’nt say more.” then your ankle again as he pulls you close enough for him to gather you into his arms to sit up against him, and your arms wrap around his shoulders to balance yourself as he does.
he lets you rest against his chest as you still tremble from exhaustion, although the good kind before you answer. “so did you.” and it makes him snort,
“oh? i guess i should be thanking you then, is that what you want?”
“depends on the thanks.” your reply is quick, as it always is—witty, adorable, perfect. as you always are and it makes alhaitham hum before his fingertips are trailing their way up your spine next. the moments after are unfamiliar but he feels drowsy and comfortable when he feels your arms press soft hearts into his skin with the tip of your own finger.
“hm, interesting. well, i may have something in mind but it may just be my personal inclination.” it’s a suggestive sort of retort but he likes the way he’s able to feel your body shake slightly as you laugh against him. his arm curls around you a little tighter in an attempt to hug you closer as you do.
“insatiable, are we?” you turn to look up at alhaitham but it seems he’s already staring before he’s leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple, although he looks as sure of himself as always as he tilts his head down at you.
“oh? do i give you that sort of impression? although having to clean the couch before kaveh returns is gonna be quite the hassle.” he thinks it’s adorable the way you’re still able to make his heart skip a beat despite all of this when you smile up at him, nodding in agreement when you wiggle to look around at the mess you’ve both left, and he continues. “maybe a bath beforehand would be simple enough instead?”
you seem to get quite excited at this, wriggling into his chest as your arms reach up to squeeze him in tight for a hug. “sounds perfect.” he seems to melt into you much like he did a moment ago, eager to get to cleaning you up given his earlier confession about you being his priority.
“as i thought.”
it’s an easy life, but it’s a more than fulfilling one.
❛ 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑳𝑳 𝑻𝑶𝑶 𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑻 ❜ minors do not interact
⭒ having a few high profile clients is to be expected in your line of work, although you seem to have bitten off more than you can chew with your newest addition to your roster, catching the eye of the oak family head. you easily became his favourite.. now he wants to be your only. 5987 words.
fem ( dreamscape escort ) reader x sunday. secret relationships. sunday is your client and he is soft for you. feelings are involved. possessiveness - sundays a little controlling. petnames; my dear, my angel. creampie. themes of sex work - escorts etc. lingerie. i’m praying this is good. he spoils you ( brings you gifts, outfits, jewellery ). male oral receiving. ₊ 𓂃 masterlist.
they’re sharp, the three simple knocks on the door to your room as you rest at your vanity table - applying a few finishing touches to your makeup for your next client. he was early, as usual but his arrival was telling; you don’t have to turn around on your seat to acknowledge him, although his gaze seems to meet your own in the mirror almost immediately as he comes into view.
his appearance is pristine, as it always is - perfect. you don’t think the newspaper articles truly do him any justice because as he stands here, the oak family head in all of his divine glory, between the four dimly lit walls of your room.. he looks like a true visionary of silver and gold as he gives you a polite smile.
“you’re early.. you might have gotten an eyeful of my last client if you appeared a few minutes ago.” your words drawl loosely as your eyes switch between your own reflection and his, teasing as honey coats the syllables and you take pride in the way SUNDAY’s eyes seem to narrow at your little statement. you know how he gets when you mention the other clients before him, which is why you think that him deliberately arriving to his appointments earlier and earlier each time is a little… premeditated for that very reason.
but just as quickly as that flicker of something darker flashes across his golden gaze - it’s gone again as he returns to his usual kindhearted demeanour before you. “hah, you’re so funny, my dear.” he exhales, although he doesn’t laugh as he watches you swipe on the finishing coat of your lipstick. he smiles, “i brought you something.”
sunday looks almost proud of himself as he takes a few large steps towards you, crossing the space between you both quickly until he’s resting behind where you sit. he’s close enough to feel your back press against his front and although you can’t see his gaze in the mirror anymore, you know he’s still watching you as he rests the small gift bag on the vanity to your left.
“i told you to stop bringing me these things, you already pay me enough.” your lips pout subtly but the man behind you is already reaching into the small gift bag to pull out its contents before you can finish.
it’s not that accepting gifts from regular clients like sunday was unprofessional nor unappreciated, but given the sheer mass that he always seemed to bring it just seemed.. unfair in a way. it had started innocently, flowers - your favourite kind to be precise, twice a fortnight. but then as you grew closer and his visits became more frequent, it extended to lavish clothes, white lingerie that made you look straight out of a dream or makeup in his favourite colour.. even jewellery, the type that was delicate and expensive.
although you’re sure your words fall on deaf ears considering you’re currently resting in one of those very sets he’s previously bought you right now, pretty white lace lingerie that hugs you perfectly while you apply his favourite colour of lipstick and he breathes out a croon of a laugh at the sight.
but the gift catches your eye immediately as sunday lifts it from its bag; a small, velvet box that he turns to face you in the mirror before revealing its contents. “nonsense, i simply thought it would suit you, that’s all.” another soft purr falls from his lips and you find yourself leaning your upper body back to rest against him when you’re greeted with the minimalistic, albeit beautiful necklace that rests inside.
you don’t say anything but he can tell you like it when he watches the way your eyes seem to gleam subtly, pretty coloured lower lip caught between your teeth as he breathes out another exhale. his fingers are careful as they reach to take the fine jewellery from its case before resting down the empty box on your vanity and bringing it around your neck. “allow me.”
sunday’s fingers work gently along your skin as you heed to his commands, but he takes his time; letting the press of his hands trace featherlight touches up the dip of your shoulder first, before applying slight pressure onto the sensitive spots across your throat that make you shudder. he chuckles quietly when you huff, but ultimately he opts to fasten the necklace a few intimate moments later before his fingers are reaching around to rest along your jawline next.
he holds you in his hands as he makes you face the mirror, admiring you as the delicate jewellery rests prettily along your collarbones. “yes, as i thought.” his fingers twitch a little tighter against your jaw and he seems to use it as a means to pull your upper body to rest against him again as he looks over you in your reflection. “it is.. quite beautiful.” his voice quiet, although you know his eyes are on you.
your relationship with sunday was.. peculiar. it hadn’t always been like this, so give and take. matter of fact, when he’d first arrived at your workplace you remember the whispers.. the anticipation as he decided which one of the girls he would like and your surprise when his gaze seemed to seek you out almost instantly. he’s been a loyal client of yours ever since.. although that’s also the reason your price only seems to be creeping higher.
he was the last person you expected to see in your place of work, seeking out an escort.. buying himself a lover when he has multiple falling at his feet wherever he goes around penacony - not that anyone would ever know considering the confidentiality agreements ofcourse. still, you always found it to be quite strange that he’d opted for the service instead, he was generous, although.. not quite like your other clients.
much to your surprise, and disappointment at first, your first night with sunday.. and the few that followed lacked the intimacy you were used to. infact, he didn’t touch you at all, well.. not in the way you’d expect. he’d pay handsomely ofcourse, in full for your services for the night and then a more than generous tip on top, before insisting that you take the time to rest with him instead of doing anything that came with the hefty price tag.
long conversations, sweet, slow kisses and nights spent against his chest - heart to heart. it resembled much of the honeymoon phase in a new relationship, the uncertainty and the tenderness. you used to wonder what his true purpose of coming to a place like this was to begin with, it was like he simply seeked out human touch, to be held in your gentle hands - to be kissed awake, fingers in his hair, tracing his wings and the muscles of his chest.
you never did ask, afterall.. who were you to judge how someone else carries their own loneliness?
so you worked with sunday and in turn, he gave more to you than he’d given anyone else. until you got to the level of intimacy you’re at now; the gifts, his touch, jealousy over your other clients.. and the press of his hard cock as he leans his hips into your upper body from where he holds your jaw between his fingers.
“it really is pretty.” your lashes flutter beautifully as you admire yourself in the mirror, only for a moment before you’re turning to face the man behind you in your seat - finally being able to take him in completely instead of just through his reflection. his fingers still rest at your chin and there’s a small grin on his lips when he tilts your features up towards him.
as always, sunday had taken off his jacket at the door - which leaves him the way he is now for you; left in only his clean pressed dress shirt and the pretty, winged waistcoat that seems to hug his tight waist, just as perfectly as your hands would while his eyes narrow down at you.
he was beautiful, and for the night.. he was yours.
“i should thank you for this.” you curl your lips seductively and you admire the way the wings behind his neck flutter excitedly as you reach for his belt, followed by the button of his slacks and you pop it easily from between your manicured fingertips as his lips part to exhale.
“hm, you’re too kind. i’m simply treating you as you deserve, is all.. hardly worthy of such a reward.” sunday watches you intently as you free him from the fabric separating you both carefully, layer by layer as he feels his skin burn with anticipation and you push yourself from your chair to your knees between his.
“nevertheless, it would be quite foolish of me to deny some extra recognition for my endeavours. wouldn’t you agree?” his cock throbs at the press of your fingers and he gasps at the first sting of sexual freedom that he relishes in when you finally push down the restricting press of his underwear, licking your lips at the first sight of his pretty, hard cock as your wrap it in your hand.
“mhm, i agree.” ofcourse you do, that’s what he pays you for afterall. although even outwith the restrictions of your contract and sunday’s finances.. you feel like your reaction towards him wouldn’t differ much at all, you’d still treat him with the tenderness that he seeks out in you.
you lean in, smearing your lips along the sensitive glands of his cock as you offer him a few experimental, shallow strokes of your fist and his hips twitch beneath the weight of the steady pleasure. his body rocks into the press of your palm as he chases the friction, basking in the suckled kisses you place along the length of him as you look up at him beautifully from beneath your lashes.
sunday grunts, the sight of you kneeling between his spread thighs making heat sting along his cheekbones and there’s an unsteady waver to his usual smooth tone when he feels you swirl your tongue along the folds of his cock.
you trail your mouth along the slit of his blunt tip next and his hips twitch as his head rolls forward, wings shivering as you continue your ministrations and you feel his fingers rest gently on the back of your head as you continue, squeezing slightly in time with your intoxicating movements.
“y-yes, keep looking at me like that, my angel.” sunday was truly a sight to behold from your knees, seeing the head of the oak family so flushed and needy from a little attention was a truly addicting image. he almost trembles when you close your lips around the tip of his cock and suckle lightly, watching his lidded golden gaze blink down at you when you opt to take more of him and his fingers twitch delightfully into your scalp as he wills you too.
his pretty cock pushes down the tight tunnel of your throat and you feel his palm press gently against the back of your head when you swallow around him, another low whimper of your name falling from his lips as his thighs shake where he stands. “it.. it seems you’ve become quite accustomed to what i like so quickly, hah-“ the chuckle he lets out is breathless and the trembling undercurrent to his words makes you hum around him before pulling off to breathe.
but you feel sunday’s gaze watch you as you do, following your every movement as you leave wet kisses along the sides of his cock, dragging your tongue along the sensitive underside as he huffs. “it’s quite impressive really. oh, how i wish to have it all to myself.” you try to ignore the statement, but much like the implication always does, it makes you burn from where you rest on your knees.
it makes something squeeze in both your heart and the place that yearns for him between your thighs as your lust trails and warms beneath your skin.
you knew better than to get your hopes up, he often got like this more or less everytime you were together - trying to convince you to do this only for him, to let him have you all to yourself. you’ve never gotten further enough to test the statements or his promises, maybe it’s the fear of him leaving you or the humiliation of the abandonment that would follow. but even with that, for now; sunday is your only intimate client - most coming round for other matters such as tea or simply your company, although you’d rather he not find that out yet.
you don’t reply, instead - you only grin before letting him guide your head back down, fucking into your mouth slowly as he sways from where he stands over you with a long, low whine. you take great pride in your work with him - in the way you could reduce the esteemed head of the oak family to a mess with just your mouth, he was right when he’d said you’d learned his preferences afterall - it made your job a whole lot easier.
sunday feels your throat close around the head of his cock and he twitches on your tongue as you give his cock a few long, languid strokes, pulling a groan from him that’s much prettier and breathier than the last few. but then he’s suddenly pulling you off him with a gasp and curling over you while his hand that was previously on the back of your head squeezes at your shoulder.
“wait.” his other hand comes to quickly wrap around your wrist to stop your pace on his cock as he catches his breath, wide-eyed as he stares down at you from where his silver hair has fallen over his face to frame his flushed, pretty features.
“m-my apologies.” sunday’s eyes squeeze shut as his words pause and you offer him a confused tilt of your head before he continues after a long, drawn out sigh. “i didn’t want to.. i dont want to stop just yet, not before i’ve had my fill of you, that is.” it’s cute really, the way he’s still so sensitive to the pleasure that you can offer him and the vulnerable, almost embarrassed look on his face convinces you to press yourself to your feet.
you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hug him close and he welcomes the much closer proximity eagerly despite the way his cock is still hard, smearing precum and spit along your inner thighs and the pretty fabric of your lingerie. it’s a fleeting moment of weakness between his usual dominant desires, so you feed into him as always.
“we still have all night, but i’d like you to have all of me now.” you sigh in the space where you both take a breath and sunday’s expression returns to his usual one as he squeezes at your skin.
“hm, as you wish.” it’s feverish the way he kisses you next, breathing into you as you lure him to your bed - much like a siren would lure a sailor out to sea as he presses his tongue between your lips. he grunts at the first needy, wet trace of it against your own, like he’s stealing the very song that would lead him to his demise - he would welcome the ocean so eagerly if you were waiting beneath its depths.
sunday hips rub up against your clothed pussy as he looks over you hungrily between presses of your lips, letting you tear through the intricate layers of his usual attire as you strip him and you feel your lungs tremble when he presses your body deep into the mattress with his own a breath a moment later.
you instinctively reach out to him when he pulls back but he takes the opportunity to admire you as his body curls over your own. the white lingerie he’d gifted you does wonders, as he knew it would, delicate lace that cups your breasts and thighs alongside the matching panties, the only things between him and your pussy right now as his chest rises and falls quickly.
sunday’s gaze lingers on the delicate necklace across your collarbones before his eyes lift to meet yours once more and he sighs. “words can hardly do justice to your beauty.” you feel his fingertips reach out for you with his compliment, thumb swiping tenderly along the jewellery against your collarbones and you give him a pretty look as you lean into the touch.
“you bare the resemblance of a true angel like this.” you can’t help but feel flattered by how entranced he seems by you, even under the guise of business alone. his awe of you burns you - makes you ache unlike anything you’ve ever experienced with any of your other clients.. anyone else at all, and you feel the only thing that could soothe you is him and his attention.
your voice breaks with need, “please, sunday. make me feel good.” and sunday’s blown out, radiant gaze meets yours from under his mused bangs.
“ah, that is precisely my intention.” his fingers move lower as they trace the valley between your breasts, tracing the skin hes explored many times before but no less enraptured by. his palm cups your chest from the outside and the lace cup of your bra feels soft and delicate beneath him before his hands press beneath the fabric a breath later, and he drags it down your front to let them pour free as his hands quickly return to you.
sunday curls his fingers into your flesh and squeezes, starting softly as he watches the way your tits move - the way they perk up towards him with his manipulation, and he tentatively swipes his thumbs back and forth over the firmed, pebbled flesh of your nipples.
you moan at the subtle movements as you press your head back into the pillows, sinking into the soft fabric. his touch is as teasing as it is deliberate and you’re sure he realises just how torturous it is to have him drag the pads of his thumbs back and forth like this, thoroughly pressing and flicking over your nipples as your body twitches in time with each swipe. it only takes a few passes to make them feel raw beneath his touch.
sunday’s fingers squeeze and grip at where your tits rest on your chest again as he gives you a moments relief, feeling their give and weight and seeming satisfied with the way his fingers sink into the softer flesh. but then he sighs and it brings your eyes to meet despite how much you want to shy away and kick your feet when it’s followed by a pinch of your tits.
“what’s wrong?” you already sound debauched but you still offer him as much attention as you possibly can as your head sinks into the pillow once more at his touch.
“it’s just you…” sunday laughs softly, glancing up at you from beneath his long lashes - his cheeks are pink and his cock is still hard where it rests just above your hips. “i don’t wish for you to do this for them. for anyone else, i don’t want anyone else to touch you.” his words are followed by a soft shake of his head, like the idea alone is wicked for him to speak out loud, but still- he continues, as do his fingers against your breasts, swiping mercilessly before he squeezes.
he swallows and lick his lips, eyes locked on you. “i simply want you for myself.”
“then take me.” you reply quickly, a pleading edge to your voice you hope will sway him and sunday’s lips curl in soft delight as you watch him tilt his head down at you.
“oh, i intend to.”
sunday pauses in his ministrations against your tits and you nod quickly before shifting yourself further up the bed, watching as he follows you before his fingers curl into your waist and drag you restlessly beneath him as he peels through the fabric of your panties.
“what do you want?” natural dominance drips from his tone, low and shaky in your ear. “just tell me your demands and i will fulfil them.. without hesitation.” and there’s a tinge of anticipation that’s present from your fingers to your toes.
“i.. i want to cum.” your lips part, words pretty and saccharine and sunday huffs out a light chuckle as he blinks down at you.
“heh.. i see.” his fingers wrap around the base of his cock as he lets his head fall forward with the first few strokes of his palm - his soft hair and wings petting along your collarbones before he leans in closer to rub his cock along your slick folds. “but we haven’t reached that point yet, have we?” he swallows.
“then use me.” you’re soaked already, pleading and feeling the first silky grind of sunday’s cock split through your folds before it’s catching on your clit, making you both gasp and moan at the wet tacky sound that follows. your legs curl around his waist as you yearn for more, pulling him close and he pushes you deep against the mattress, making your back arch until it almost hurts.
“do you swear yourself to me?” his lips smear against your cheek, words strangled and wound tight but he annunciates every syllable so you hear him clearly. you’re sure he must feel the heat of your rising need against him but you know he’ll never be satisfied until you use your words.
“yes.” your nodding is instinctive but you’re not lying - you wouldn’t dare, not to sunday of all people. his fingers twitch into your skin and he pulls himself deeper into the desperate hug of your pussy as you desperately rub your slick along his throbbing cock.
“to me and to only me?” his teeth grit and your thighs twitch around his waist as he wills you to answer with his next saccharine grind against your folds.
“yes.” he does it again and your insides clench until you hiccup.
“then i’ll give you what you wish, my angel.” you feel his lips place a delicate kiss along the jewellery that stills rests prettily along your collarbones, before he finally parts your folds and sinks into your twitching cunt. you’re body shakes - lips parting to moan and your fingers reach to drag across the porcelain skin of sunday’s back and shoulders.
you’re so tight as he pushes past the spots inside of you that make you twitch beneath him, but it only makes him hold you tighter, twisting his neck to watch the expression you make as his cock feels like it sinks into you forever. his hips stutter until they’re pressed tight against your own with a shameless, ragged moan that makes your long lashes flutter and kiss along your cheeks before your lover above you does the same.
“there’s no need to make such a fuss.” sunday’s works drawl, a pace similar to the one that he takes as he drags his cock out of you - slow and wet after he’s given you a few moments to get used to him. he looks at you, smiling softly despite his mused, flushed expression. “relax, my dear.. and give yourself to me, allow me to fulfil your demands.”
the draw back of his hips feels like it lasts for eternity, until only the blunt head remains and his first real thrust feels like it knocks all of the air from your lungs as he presses his hips back into you.
immediately, sunday’s pace is smooth, controlled but his precision is intense as your back curls and relaxes beneath him, your fingers and toes do the same as your walls bare down on him eagerly. your nerves and body feel too ready for the pleasure that he’s going to give you, for what’s to come and you blink up at him to watch his wings flutter in anticipation themselves.
his fingers curl and drag along your skin restlessly where his hands hold you, and he’s panting - molding his fingers into your waist, squishing at your hips as he rocks back into you.
“how does it feel? tell me.” sunday demands, lips wet against your cheek as he presses his hips into you and his cock seems to reach so deep you feel it burst heat along your nerves with every stroke. but still, your lips part to answer his question,
“s-so good. it’s so good!” broken, you sound so broken - fucked out, eager. your words are like a plea or a prayer and it makes the man over you throb as he presses even deeper, every wet clap of his hips only emphasising that your confession is true as he feeds into your lucid, hormone-dazed state with another thrust.
although sunday still finds it in himself to chuckle lightly, albeit breathless as he gives you a lidded look from beneath his lashes, voice a deep drawl. “and to whom do you give your thanks?” the tone makes you shudder, hips shaking although he urges you to remain still as his hands squeeze.
“y-you.” another press of his hips and your head presses back deep into the pillows beneath you, head full of cotton as your lungs tremble on your next ragged exhale.
“then go on.” sunday prompts you, mercilessly despite the way he knows you can barely breathe, nevermind speak.
but it’s another demand, one you surely can’t deny when you notice the way his sharp gaze seems to glow as you blink, and he twitches against the needy hug of your body.
you gasp, followed by thick babbles, pressing from your throat as your back arches and you think it’s a little twisted, the way the symphony of thanks, quick pants of thankyouthankyouthankyou— makes sunday’s hips stutter as he basks in the attention, in the control he wavers over you with a very command, a very look and touch as you tremble beneath his mercy.
his head dips towards you, kissing over your downed shoulders as his teeth nip at your skin and sunday hums like he’s pleased, “hm, you’re quite hard to resist in this state.” he’s massaging your waist like he’s giving you praise and following it with another slow withdrawal to emphasise the fact as he works your hips back to meet his.
your pussy flexes again and you can feel that unwavering tone of sunday’s voice shudder as the head of his cock pushes against something a little too deep within you - something warm and pleasantly achy as your legs around his hips squeeze tight, willing him to give you even more.
“now, allow me to reward your conviction, fear not - i will make sure it’s recognised.” his hand suddenly slides forward as he takes a slow handful of one of your breasts, feeling it press between his fingertips as he uses it as a means to drag you back into him and it aches in the best way.
you jolt beneath him, try to take a full breath but it’s almost impossible against the sudden force of sunday’s hips, his body clapping against yours as his hands squeeze hard into your skin - keeping you pressed beneath him. his hips seem to be pressing into you even harder, pelvis grinding against your clit - quick and aggressive and it’s everything you need to drive you to your blissful end as your lips part.
“tell me again.” he breathes, scratchy and growly but just as intense as he always is as he consumes you.
“do you.. swear yourself to me?” his tone is sharper now, although almost drowned out by the sound of your own weak whimpers and long, needy moans. he’s hissing through his teeth but he still finds it in himself to reach for your fingers; to weave them into his before he squeezes you tight, demanding your attention despite the way you’re drifting with every deep press of his cock.
“past, present and future, will you devote yourself to me?” sunday pushes you forward as his gaze cuts into you and your eyes roll back almost as soon as you lift them to look at him.
“i do.. i-ah! i do—“ you don’t know anything else but him, in this intense moment as he holds you beneath him - pressing his lust between the folds of your cunt. its in these moments that you almost forget the reality of it all, of what you both truly are to one another.
“then prove it to me… if you truly mean it, wont you s-show me your resolve?” sunday groans, grappling your intertwined hands down against the sheets and you’re more than eager to give in as the flash of white pleasure rushes to warm over your skin.
your orgasm is intense as your back arches, urging his thrusts to slow - although the heavy, precise press of his cock against your quivering walls remains as he fucks you through it - squeezing you tight like you’ll slip from his fingers and he’ll wake from this dream if he lets you go.
“yes, you appear to be quite eager.. heh,” sunday pushes you forward until you’re pinned beneath him, feeling his wings tremble against your cheeks as you grab at his shoulders and you shudder as he prolongs your blissful state, feeding into the fluttering pull of your cunt until he’s following after.
it doesn’t take long, not when you’re crying for him, begging - sworn to him and he whines, long and low as he trembles on top of you; smearing messy, wet kisses along your jawline as he spills hot inside of your spent pussy to completely mark you as his. he pushes his hips against yours in a gentle, final thrust as you arch into the remnants of your pleasure, the sounds of your breathes filling the room as the sound of skin slapping dies down and you pet at his shoulders as you press him in kisses along his cheeks.
sunday takes a long exhale against your temple before he pulls back to look at you, an almost soft nervousness in his eyes as your fingertips fall to his chest and you can feel his heart thudding beneath your palm. he lets it rest for a moment, as he always does, before he pulls out of you and you roll towards him as he does.
although the moments after are silent for a beat or two, his eyes are on you as his hands pet gently down the press of your body - fixing the messed up lingerie as he urges your breasts back into the cup he’d previously pulled them from.
you can see sunday thinking over his first words in his head before he says them, “ill be sure to have more colours delivered before i visit again tomorrow. although you know how i favour this one most, i’d like to see you in it again soon.” he kisses your forehead, suddenly rolling over to leave you as he rests himself on the edge of the bed.
it’s not that he was in a rush to leave, if he had it his way he never would, its almost like he was testing if you’ll close the distance.
“you don’t have to visit me everyday, you know.” his back is to you when you answer, but you notice the way his feathers seem to still at your words regardless.
there’s no humour to the light chuckle that follows, “heh, and leave you for those other scoundrels? what a truly despicable, wretched thought.” it catches you off guard for a second, the ice which accompanies sunday’s tone and you think he picks up on that when he turns to face you with his usual smile after.
his fingers reach out to cup your cheeks as you blink up at him, feeling him graze them along your skin gently and he sighs, “it’s a pity really, would you take me up on my offer then we could put an end to this.”
you know what sunday means when he says that - his offer to get you out of here; to live with him, to be with him but you’re under contract and given your increasing price thanks to this exact patron - it doesn’t feel right to ask so much of him given his responsibilities currently, especially when he gives you enough already. would you really be able to enjoy his company like this outwith these circumstances?
would he have the time?
instead of letting yourself spiral into thought, you push yourself up to crawl closer, grimacing when the movement makes his load drip from between your thighs to make a mess.
but you hope to distract him as he turns around and your arms wrap around his shoulders from behind. “sunday, just.. don’t stretch yourself too thin, please?” he exhales through his nose at your words, like he knows he’s doing exactly that - overworking himself with family matters, his free time is spent here with you, when was the last time he did something without thinking of how it may benefit somebody else?
but like sunday always does, he sighs - although you’re sure it’s meant to be more of a laugh, but it seems he can only keep up his act for so long.
“nonsense, we seem to be making good progress, i shant let the opportunity to go to waste is all and it’s evident to everyone- what we have between us, there’s no use in denying it further.” you feel the press of his fingertips as they reach up to squeeze at your hands, keeping you around him like you’re the blanket he wraps himself in every night, to keep you holding him a little longer. “or will you tell me that you didn’t truly mean what you swore earlier?”
you let the question go unanswered as the silence settles, instead; you press yourself into him - chest against his back as you peek over his shoulder to admire his side profile and it’s almost immediate the way he turns to meet your gaze. “i’ll simply finish my family matters early, it’s not a day off but more so.. the height of my productivity, for a worthier cause.” his fingers smooth over yours like he’s soothing you, although you think he’s the one who needs it more.
“well, i won’t complain about seeing you again as long as you’re happy with it.” you decide to feed into him and it works as you watch sunday smile softly.
“well.. it’s merely a small act of my devotion.. or do you wish for more, my angel? just say the word.” his usual personality comes back with the question, his aura encompassing you both but it only wills you to hug yourself closer as you lean into press your lips against his cheeks.
sunday squeezes your fingers again, leaning in until his lips are ghosting yours. “we could draw back the veil on our.. many nights together. i know you wouldn’t be the type to go back on your own word, would you, my angel?” he knew exactly the moment to ask you to get the answer he wanted afterall.
your cheek rests on his shoulder as you blink up at him, and the look he gives you makes something in your chest squeeze as he gives you a look in return.
its that same gaze that wills you to confess everytime you meet it, so you do just that - softly, “i would never. i’m happy with this for now.. with you.” sunday seems pleased with that as he kisses you once on the lips, then another on your fingers as he brings them to his mouth.
gn reader. sfw ﾉ fluff. cake tasting. petnames used; my dear. very short and soft. ( 980 words ). ₊ 𓂃 masterlist.
“And this one, my dear? Any thoughts?” SUNDAY’s voice is soft as he raises the silverware in his fingertips to your lips, allowing you to take a bite of the slice of cake that hangs precariously on the end of it as he watches you.
“I think that one’s a little sweet.” You respond around the soft base. You’re sure that one was chocolate… no— fudge, maybe. The buttercream is rich and the cake itself is quite dense. It makes you feel like you need a drink of water.
But before you can reach for one yourself, Sunday is already pushing your glass closer towards you on the table. Smiling subtly while he nods at your response, “I can’t help but agree. That is quite an understandable criticism.”
Your current state is quite amusing when you think about it. You’re both resting at the table with upteen different flavours of cake infront of you. Red velvet to carrot cake, vanilla frosting to fudge. It’s any dentist in the cosmos worst nightmare but then you turn to look at your company and you don’t think someone could look any happier than he does right now.
It makes you smile at him as you take a sip of your water. Giggling as you cleanse your palette for the next bite, “Do you think we ordered a little too much?”
Sunday hums at your question, scanning the contents of the takeout boxes infront of you both and his left wing seems to twitch in amusement before he responds. Smiling. “Well, it is a special occasion after all. I actually used to have quite the sweet tooth growing up, though I have nothing against desserts now. Regrettably, there was simply no room for them in my past.”
He seems much more natural talking about the past now, not as weighed down as he used to be and you’re grateful for that as you watch him fondly. His fingertips still seem to move gracefully as he stabs at another slice of cake, politely popping it between his lips a moment later as his wings flutter excitedly— in appreciation for it’s flavour.
He seems to like that one, you think as you try not to grin.
But then Sunday turns in his seat and his eyes are on you again. He looks at you with something akin to adoration, as he always does. “Though I must admit it’s been quite a while since I indulged like this. I wouldn’t want to get carried away.” He chuckles to himself, but you can’t help but tease.
“I can put them away if you’d like—?”
“Oh! That sha’nt be necessary.” Sunday seems to answer a little too quickly as he raises his hand softly to stop you, though he seems to be some level of self aware of his sudden protectiveness over the desserts. “W-why it would be a shame to see them go to waste, after all.” It makes the tips of his ears turn an adorable shade of pink as he clears his throat, trying to play it off.
“Mhm.” You say aloud, but ‘Used’ to have a sweet tooth? Oh I’m sure, you laugh to yourself.
And it’s almost like Sunday can hear your thoughts as he sends you a cute frown. Still, it’s one you manage to wipe off of his pretty features quite quickly when you opt to raise your own fork to him this time. Adorned with another piece of the flavour he tried earlier.
“This one’s your favourite though, right?” You ask softly, and he takes it between his lips without hesitation as he smiles around the slice of cake, his wings fluttering again. You wonder if he notices that adorable trait of his— regardless, you think it’s best not to point it out. You’d much rather enjoy it while you can.
“Yes. That one is quite delicious.” Sunday hums as he smiles to himself, chewing gently. He’s still wearing that same soft look that he’s had more recently and if that alone didn’t make you want to melt— his hand that rests on your thigh a moment later definitely does.
He gives you an affectionate squeeze, “Then again, I believe most flavours taste better when enjoyed with great company.”
His cuteness makes you snort. Had this been the old Sunday saying this to you, the more unintentionally awkward—colder version, you’d have most likely not believed it. But the one that’s resting infront of you now— with his hand rubbing soft shapes into your skin and his gaze on you?
Well, you’d believe anything he told you if it was cast in that same tone of voice.
But because you like to jab at him a little, you let your hand rest over Sunday’s to squeeze. “All of that sugar has gotten to your brain I think.” Your voice almost shakes with the weight of your adoration for him.
As does his when he responds. “Heh. Without a doubt.”
This is no doubt a sugar-overload of some sort, but Sunday’s not sure the cake is to blame for the warmth in his chest when he looks at you. So because he loves you, he continues, “Though if I owe my thanks to our wedding cake samples for allowing me to express my fondness for you then.. so be it.”
“I’m sure the cake would be very flattered.” You laugh and he mirrors the sound with that of his own before he’s moving to offer you another piece of cake. Your hands are both intertwined in your lap as you bite down on it eagerly and he watches you as you chew. Gently, he feels like his love becomes endless in you.
He’ll swipe the mess of frosting off of your lower lip with his thumb, and you’ll kiss the frosting off of his. You’re just two lovers in the cosmos. His circumstances have changed, his outfit has too but the promise and the vow you shared hasn’t.
I need to talk about the idea of accidentally sending a nude to Dan Heng.
Let’s just imagine your bedroom is next door to the Data Bank in the Express and far too often you’d be too lazy to make the short trip next door, so you’d opt to just send him a text instead— to bug him about his day when you’re bored or offer to send him random photos of March 7th when she’d fallen asleep on the sofa earlier.
Dan Heng wouldn’t deny you, he’d respond in that way he always does. Short texts, but it’s enough to keep the conversation going and that’s fine— sometimes he’d entertain you with a sticker and he can probably hear the way it makes you giggle through the wall between you both.
So you haphazardly click through your gallery to find the photos of March you’re talking about, your eyes are half glazed over so you don’t notice the misclick until the photo sends and your eyes almost widen to twice the size.
It hadn’t been a picture for a particular occasion, it’s just you wrapped in your comforter— but the incriminating part is that you’re not wearing anything beneath said comforter and that much is obvious in the arch of your back and the bare skin the position reveals. You almost opt to jump out of the window of the Express and take your chances with the Cosmos when you realise, but before you can— you hear a chime back.
Almost unnervingly quickly as you fumble with your phone in your hands. And you can still feel your face burning as your greeted with the photo again, followed by Dan Heng’s text just a bubble after.
Dan Heng: ….
You: Ignore that! Sorry, OMG!
You: This is so embarrassing.
Dan Heng: It’s fine.
Dan Heng: You should be more vigilant who you send those to.
True, it could’ve been worse— it could’ve been Welt or Himeko, maybe Sunday— he’s still a bit awkward around you already so that’s the last thing you would’ve needed. It’s only Dan Heng, that’s okay right? You try to convince yourself it is anyway, but then you’re flopping the weight of your body back down on your bed a second later and there’s something akin to… disappointment that seems to nestle somewhere between your thighs.
Did you want him to react?
You: I’m sorry. Let’s forget that happened.
You type out the text quickly, hands still shaking a bit as they come down from the adrenaline and you wiggle your face into the fabric of your pillow before Dan Heng replies again.
Dan Heng: Already forgotten.
Almost instantly. It’s like he’s spending his night sitting with your chat open and you almost will yourself to go to sleep to forget about it. But then you hear something from the other side of the wall. A sound similar to a zip maybe, the soft rustling of fabric, the unfastening of a belt—
The walls of the Express are iron but they’re thin when it comes to sound, he knows that better than anyone. So why can you hear the next exhale that Dan Heng takes when it’s followed by another rustle? And suddenly you wish there was a window between rooms because your mind is going wild with possibilities.
There’s another sound, another breath that shakes a bit more— it breaks into something pretty before it’s muffled, like it’s being silenced behind a palm and it make your thighs squeeze as you will yourself to sit up a bit straighter. Your legs kick against the mattress as you push yourself closer to the wall and you stare at the open chat as your fingers hover over the keys.
Is Dan Heng really doing what you think he’s doing? Would it be delusional to assume it’s because of you? Are you willing to risk it?
But then you hear another rustle on the other side of the wall, followed by a wet sort of sound and your eyes widen as you watch the bubble on the lower left hand side of the screen appear once, only to disappear again a second later. He’s got your chat open. And that really makes your body tremble with anticipation, the arousal between your thighs already throbbing in time with your fingertips on the keyboard as you type out another message.
You: But… Dan Heng?
There’s another murmur from the other end of the wall, followed by another rustle of fabric and only when it falls silent does Dan Heng respond.
Dan Heng: Yes?
It makes you bite down on your lower lip, were you really about to do this? You should think about it, but the heat that’s trembling beneath your skin right now seems to be way past being rational as you take a deep breath.
You: I don’t suppose you’re busy right now, are you?
Dan Heng: No need.
Dan Heng replies almost instantly and for a moment, the sounds on the other side of the wall cease before it’s followed quickly by another rustle— the click of a belt as if it’s being fastened again.
fem reader. surprising him in lingerie. teasing. you prepared a little reward for when aventurine came home. ₊ 𓂃 masterlist.
you hear the click of AVENTURINE’S shoes enter your shared hotel room before you call out to him, hidden away from his stunning gaze as his eyes scan the furniture - you know that you’ll be the first thing he seeks out when he enters back into the room but you had a little surprise of your own planned.
one that you don’t want to ruin until you’re ready as you hear him take his first few steps deeper into the room.
“i’ve been waiting for you.” you call out to him as you slide into your robe, letting it drape softly across your shoulders and you hear aventurine sigh contently at the way you acknowledge him. he still can’t see you, but he lets himself fall onto the sofa to relax after a long night as he waits.
“the table became quite the high stake situation and i could hardly refuse the pay out.” he takes off his hat as his voice lifts to a tease and he lounges back against the plush cushions behind him. they’re as comfortable as you’d expect after the fortune he spent to get you both a luxurious room, you don’t deserve anything less than that. “but reaping the rewards was quite entertaining, seeing the looks on their faces, a piece of cake really.”
you smile at his words before finally deciding to take your first careful step into view - you already feel too warm with anticipation.
but aventurine is already smirking by the time he sees you, his eyes glint underneath the dim room lighting, even from behind his glasses but you’re like something out of a dream. you’re dressed in gold, dripping in it with the way the lace seams hug you, the cups of your breasts, the pull of your suspender belt - it’s one of the few outfits you own that you’d actually bought yourself, considering your lover would always insist that it be on him. but this was something you wanted to do for him this time.
“speaking of rewards. hm, aren’t you a sight to behold? i see someone’s put a lot of effort into welcoming me back.” there’s an unsteady waver to his soft voice despite how smug he attempts to sound, it’s like the pokerface that usually comes so easy to him is suddenly crumbling at the sight of you. “i’d say it’s quite flawless actually.”
you don’t speak yet, instead; you take another step, your stockings peeking out from behind the long skirt of your robe before your hands move to slide the silk off of your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet. “but how about you come a little closer? it’s not fair to tease me when you’re so far away. any longer and i might think i’m dreaming.” aventurine hums playfully, giving you a long look before he decides to try push himself up instead, to meet you half way but you stop him before he does.
“don’t get up yet.” your voice is sultry but your gazes lock and his smirk seems to tug even wider as he leans back against the sofa again, his thighs are spread a little further apart this time.
“oh? dangling a golden fruit infront of a man’s face and asking him not to take a bite? such a daring gamble, isn’t it?” aventurine goads, but you can see how much your ensemble has effected him already. you can see the way his pants are becoming more restricting with every single step you take towards him and he’s fidgeting with his rings as a means to not reach out for you too soon.
another step and you’re close enough to stand between his spread thighs, your fingertips moving to trace along the cut of his jawline as he gazes up at you - all adoring and infatuated. you reach for his glasses next, gently removing them to reveal more of his pretty features and he lets you, his eyes almost look like they glow at this angle. “but the pay off will be worth it, right?” you ask, setting them down a second later and he chuckles from his space on the sofa.
“oh, i have no doubts about that.” aventurine allows himself another look at you, at the gold details of your bra, your underwear - the luxury fabric, the way it hugs you perfectly. there’s a slight glitter to the stockings around your thighs and his lungs feel like they shake with his next breath before his eyes lift to meet yours again. “can i touch you?” he asks sincerely and you smile, nodding a second later.
you feel the cold press of his rings first, against your overheating, revealed skin when his hands wrap around the back of your thighs; just beneath your ass as he squeezes at the skin. then you smell his cologne as he leans close enough to let his lips graze along your stomach, placing kisses between your skin and the gold fabric that hugs you, then the waistband on your panties next.
“do you want me to keep going?” aventurine asks again, purrs against your skin in a way that almost makes you arch. it’s like the question is dripping with honey, you can feel the way he’s smirking against you.
“please.” you reply, softly and barely audible with the way he makes you burn but he hears you as one of his hands trace its way between your legs. he teases you at first, massaging at the inside of your thighs; close but not close enough as your own hands toy with the soft colour of his hair between your fingers.
another moment and fuelled by a sweet mule from you above him, aventurine decides to finally give you an inch as his fingers swipe between your folds through your panties, making your thighs twitch softly with the featherlight touch. he tilts his head up at you as his chin rests against your stomach; watching, like he can’t even imagine missing out on the show.
he can feel how wet you are all ready, dampening the fabric of your underwear and he’s hardly touched you yet. but he can’t say he’s anywhere near as controlled either; he’ll have to send his own pants to the dry cleaners with the way you have him leaking through the expensive fabric. but still, he teases, “all of this from me placing a few bets?” he tilts his head up at you, raising his brow but it’s accompanied by a sticky circle drawn across your clothed clit. “perhaps the stakes were higher than i thought.”
you hum down at him, fingers twisting softly at his roots, “but when do you ever lose?” your lashes kiss along your cheeks with your question and aventurine bites on his lower lip.
“oh, i never do. but you knew that, didn’t you? why else would you prepare such a perfect prize.” it’s deliberately slow the way his fingers ease their way down the front of your underwear next, but it’s also careless - no regard for the fabric, he’s too hellbent on his first real feel of you.
“be careful, this was expensive you know.” you huff and aventurine’s shoulders bounce as he breathes out a laugh, accompanying it with a suckled, sharp kiss against your hip.
“hah- you don’t have to worry about that, i’ll have the entire store bought out by tomorrow morning and you’ll own every colour they have.” he finally dips his fingers between the warmth of your folds, curling them into you, humming at the tacky, wet sound your slick makes as he drags his fingertips upwards. “perhaps you’ll have to try them all on for me, so i can pick out my favourite.”
aventurine’s so confident when he moves, he’s looking up at you and he could probably bet on how many circles on your clit it’ll take until you’re trembling over him. your legs buckle as he presses down on the puffy bud harder and he knows it won’t be too long when he feels your fingertips pull at his roots, a little rougher this time as your hips try to meet his movements for more.
his eyes narrow up at you and his hand that was hooked around the back of your thigh smoothes its way up higher, curling underneath your underwear before he begins to ease it down.
“i think it’s about time i unwrapped my gift, don’t you? i’ll make sure to treasure it well.” another kiss against your pelvis and the next one trails even lower as he pulls down your panties, making a soft, dreamy sound push from between your lips at the way it makes you throb. “but my, my.. how long will you last? i think i have a pretty good idea on that.”
gn reader. clothing tailor!reader x client!ayato. first meeting. a little bit of tension. ayato is quite informal. just some very subtle interest on both sides. wc. 1.1k. ₊ 𓂃 masterlist.
All you were told is you have a high profile client. Normally, it is your manager who would give you the rundown — talk you through the clients specific likes and dislikes but since she’s failed to turn up for her duties today (plagued with a sickness that is apparently hard to shift), you’ve been left alone in her stead.
Meaning, you’ve been up all night making the adjustments to your next clients kimono. And you’ve hardly had any time to look into their file and booking details because you’re running on little sleep as is.
But, as you step into one of the back rooms of your store now — one of the spaces that are saved for your more high profile guests. You suddenly feel like kicking yourself for not atleast taking a glance at the name of the appointment when you’re met with the man infront of you now.
Kamisato Ayato stands before you. One of the most important guests on the register. He was the esteemed Commissioner for the Kamisato estate, devilishly handsome and quite respected in his duties and position. You’d never really had the pleasure of meeting him yourself, but that was because it was normally your manager who handled clients like him.
But you think he looks even more handsome in person when you watch him turn to give you a carefully neutral look.
“Ah, is my usual tailor unavailable?” Ayato hums as he breaks the silence between you both. His words make you warm a bit, almost flustering you at the implication of disappointment, but you manage a deep breath before you offer him a bow out of both respect and apology.
They must not have passed on the message. Maybe it would’ve been best for him to have been rescheduled.
“Oh, I’m sorry. She… she’s sick today so I am her stand in. Though I will try my best to meet your needs, Commissioner.” Your voice feels unlike you with the way it almost shakes, but you try your best to keep it steady as to not make Ayato anymore uncomfortable.
But despite the expression you expect him to be wearing when you stand back up straight, he offers you a gentle smile instead. “You don’t have to worry about that, I should apologise. I’m not doubting your abilities, I was simply curious is all.”
And you wonder if Ayato recognises the look of surprise on your face at his kindness. It’s not that you had heard rumours about him being unkind — but you know men like him tend to stick to their own tailors. Though it’s not that you doubt your own capabilities, you found yourself to be quite a good tailor too and well, now you can’t help but feel a little giddy at the opportunity to finally show that.
His kindness makes you almost flush, “N-no, apologies for assuming the worst of you, Commissioner. Would you like to try on your garment? I can make the required alterations afterwards.”
You almost forget the way you’re basically hugging Ayato’s kimono into your chest, holding it tightly in your nervousness but thankful enough to see that it hasn’t creased. He gives you another polite smile as you set it out for him.
“Very well.”
The moments after feel quite awkward. Though you’re sure it’s all in your head as you help to dress him — trying hard not to admire the cut lines of his body as he shrugs off the clothes he came in. The last thing you’d want is to be seen as unprofessional and you’re sure Ayato’s used to being gawked at on the street.
So you keep your professionalism intact as you wrap him in the new luxury fabric. He seems to be quite pleased with that,
“Yes, it fits quite splendidly actually. You seem to have quite the talent for this.” His eyes seem to glow subtly as he admires the details of the garment. Taking great time to examine the details and the fit as you do the same, biting nervously on your lower lip.
“Maybe i should request you from now on.” You wonder if Ayato only says it because he can tell you’re nervous. But you appreciate the compliment regardless.
“Thank you, Commissioner.” Your fingertips reach to smooth along the expanse of the material across his chest. Ensuring that the fit is to his tastes and measurements before you’re noting it down on a small notebook in your palm.
Though you find yourself burning up again when you look up to see Ayato already staring, smiling. “There’s no need for such formalities, you’re free to call me Ayato when we are alone.”
The request almost makes you choke, “Oh, ah— that’s quite informal.” And you wonder if he can see the way your fingers shake when you take a pin to the material between your hands. Pinning it in place as a reminder of the alteration that needs to be made.
But Ayato doesn’t seem to mind, “Nonsense, I insist.” Infact— he almost chuckles, and you mentally curse yourself for finding the tone of voice to be so alluring. So, you meet it with silence.
Though it’s one he has no trouble filling as he continues to watch you work diligently, like he’s in awe himself. “But i do have an upcoming banquet, I look forward to seeing more of what you have to offer.”
You wonder if it’s just in your head. Probably. Definitely. There’s no way a man like Ayato would have any sort of interest in you outwith the professional workplace relationship. Not only does he not know you, but it’s to expected that the Commissioner treat all of his hired staff with respect. That’s just how it is. You’re not special.
So you stamp out the mental flame of hope that seems to have the nerve to spark in your mind. The last thing you need is to fuel any delusional fairy tails afterall. So you swallow instead, “Well, I’d be quite honoured.. Ayato.” And you continue the appointment as you would anyone else, like he’s not the devilishly handsome, well respected client of yours that you unfortunately seem to have acquired quite the subtle crush on.
It takes everything in your willpower not to let your imagination get the better of you as you work so closely to him, definitely not thinking about how his hands would feel if they were to reach out to touch you, how his lips would feel against yours.
This is ridiculous. You allow yourself to take a deep breath when you finally finish, and suddenly you can’t even meet his eyes. “All of your measurements seem to be quite fitting, I’d say we’re done here. I’ll have the garment tailored appropriately, Commissioner.”
But because you turn away this time as Ayato changes. You don’t seem to notice the way he’s staring at you, his brows a little crossed at the formal title again — although it’s barely noticeable. Maybe you’re not the only one who seems to enjoy getting lost in fantasy.
“Hm, yes. Your hard work is much admired. So, until next time.”
cw. fem reader. sick blade. eighteen+ minors do not interact. sick kisses ( lol ). biting. sprinkle of dry humping. a very late happy birthday gift to my dearest of them all @rabbbitseason. a tad of manhandling. your tags this morning gave me some inspiration for this heh!
word count. 1.7k words. ₊ 𓂃 return to masterlist.
Blade rarely got sick.
Well, in the typical sense that is— he had things a lot worse than a fever or a cold going on most days and despite how often you spent your time together, you didn’t even think he could get sick.
Until today that is— he seemed a little more out of it than normal and there was a hint of colour to his features that he normally lacked. His blinks were slow and a little drowsy, and you are certain that you heard him stifle a sniffle when you’d turned your back to put something away.
Blade could most likely identify the curiosity on your features quite quickly and it was only when you opted to take a closer look that you recognised the symptoms yourself. The tip of his nose was flushed rather pink and his eyes seemed much more tired than normal, accompanying the slight redness along the corners from where he’d no doubt been rubbing at the skin a bit too harshly.
“Something you need?” The Stellaron Hunter had asked as he gave you a curious look. His voice was hoarse, even more than usual and that was when you quickly reached your hand up to press the palm against his forehead.
He hadn’t stopped you either. But the reaction that you gave Blade was enough to have him cocking his head at you in curiosity— after all, he was burning hot, and you think that caught you off guard more than anything did.
“You’re… sick?!”
Following your discovery— You, being the most loving partner he could ask for, were quite persuasive when it came to getting Blade into bed. Though it had taken a good few minutes for you to get him to admit that he wasn’t “Fine.” he’d easily let you lead him down the hallway when you’d taken his hand.
And well, now, he’s adorable.
You’ve pulled the blankets up to Blade’s chest and despite the wrestling that had ensued to get him out the top half of his clothes, you consider being able to see the peek of his shirtless physique now as your reward. He’s still flushed, but he’s doing less to hide his sniffles now and you’re resting on the edge of the bed by his side as you pet your fingers across his biceps. You even went out of your way to make him some tea.
“Are you comfortable?” You ask carefully, reaching your fingertips up to press them against his forehead again and as much as it serves as more of an excuse to touch him. He doesn’t seem to mind.
“What does it matter?” Blade’s response is more of a huff, but his fever stricken state leans into your touch anyway. “This is one of the lesser sufferings I’ve endured.”
He did have a point, but you’re enjoying this. So you resume your motion of trailing your fingertips down his skin, rounding them along his jaw until they trail down his neck and you grin softly at the way he watches you. Feels you.
“Because you’re sick, it’s finally my turn to take care of you for once.”
One of Blade’s hands seems to escape from the captivity of the comforter when you feel it rest against your thigh, and you can tell he’s noticed the almost giddy expression you’re wearing when he gives the skin there a squeeze.
“You seem excited.” He offers you another slow blink and your fingertips trail down the muscles of his chest before they settle across the top of the blanket. As if teasing yourself with it’s contents.
“No… I’m worried.” You’re biting back a grin as you answer him, he notices it, but shrugs anyway.
“I don’t understand your games.” Blade’s scoff makes you laugh, and the giggle is accompanied by the subtle pull of your finger against the comforter as you reveal more of his skin. Even his chest feels warmer than it normally does, and that alone makes you want to nuzzle yourself beneath the blankets alongside him — burying your way into his arms, even if it does wind up with you being sick.
You think it would be worth it as you gaze at the scarred, muscled expanse of his pecs.
“You should get sick more often. You’re cute like this.” You admit. He is very cute like this actually, to the point that it’s quite irresistible and you find Blade’s adorable state of affairs to bring you closer. You start by pushing yourself up on the mattress first, until you’re resting on your knees at his side before you lean the rest of your body over top of his. And without a second thought, you go to drop most of your weight onto his chest as you lean in for a kiss.
Or you would anyway, if his hand didn’t come to hold you upright and stop your advances. Even the frown he’s wearing is still unfairly cute when it’s on his flushed, sick features.
“I may be able to handle it. But, can you?” You know he’s talking about the sickness and you’ve already considered that, you’re sure he has too, which is why he’s been looking at you like he’s been hungry for a kiss since he lay down.
Blade was always like this. He had your best interests at heart, but you know better than anyone that he would like you in that state ( despite how much he would never admit it ). He had the tendencies to coddle and dote on you, and when was a better opportunity to do so than when you were pliant and reliant on him because of a sickness?
The thought of those very circumstances is exactly what makes you shrug before answering him. “Only one way to find out.” You try to press yourself down on top of him again, applying more weight to his palm, but he’s easily able to hold your body upright with only one of his hands.
“And what will I do when you’re in my position, hm?” Blade’s voice drawls again, sounding deeper due to his sickness but if anything that only makes you want to kiss him more. He notices the pout you’re wearing before he breathes a sharp exhale. “Should I be the one to see to your survival?”
There’s something different about the way he asks that question, and if you were to believe his illness was instantly transferable then this would convince you because suddenly you’re hot. Too hot, but before you can press your fingers to your own forehead to check the temperature, your mouth moves to respond instead.
“I think you like when I’m sick actually.”
“Hm. Maybe.”
Actually your words seem to be enough motivation for Blade to remove his hand from you all together and send you colliding into his chest. Although the muscled landing is soft under you, it still leads you shriek at the impact before your attention is next drawn by the way he easily shifts beneath you, even with your weight on top of him.
It seems to happen so quickly, the way Blade is so easily able to wrestle your body beneath his, shedding himself of the comforter in that same breath and it’s only when the back of your body slams against the mattress a moment later do you realise your position.
“You shouldn’t move so much, you’re sick!” You try to regain some sense of control over your poor patient, but he’s already found himself quickly crawling over top of you. You don’t think his sickness is to blame for the heat in his gaze now, and you mentally blame the Stellaron Hunter’s spiking body temperature as the reason behind your own.
Though you think most of the heat from yours is coming from a place much lower than you expect, especially when Blade leans over you to nose at your throat.
“This won’t take much.” You feel his voice echo in his chest when it presses against you, all of his weight pushing you to sink back into the mattress and you shudder when you feel his nose trail along your skin. “But just how much will you be able to endure? Let’s test that.”
It’s a blindingly fast surge of pain when Blade sinks his teeth into the dip of your shoulder, suckling at the sensitive skin enough to have your feet kicking out from beneath you at the mixture of arousal and the ache that follows. But he makes quick work of settling your restless movements with a grind of his hips, trapping you against the bed with the press of his hard cock as a means to keep you still.
It makes you tremble beneath him when he hums against your raw skin, pulling off with a pop before tracing his tongue along the marks there and you feel the way he throbs at the imprints in your neck.
Infact, it even motivates the next long thrust that Blade gives you as he slots more of his weight between your thighs, deliberately leaning down on your clit. His huge body forces you to spread out for him as he shoves his cock up against the surface of your clothed pussy, and even the simple friction is enough to make your eyes squeeze closed.
Even sick, he knows no mercy— crowding you deep into the mattress as he humps himself between your legs and you can only grab at the skin of his bare back to keep yourself steady. He noses at your jawline next, baring teeth as he traces along the skin and it’s only when you turn your head to face him does he finally kiss you.
Blade groans at the first, sweet taste of your lips along his. Even despite the fact this is a sure-fire way for you to end up sick by midnight, you can’t deny the way he licks into your mouth is intoxicating enough for you not to care. So you don’t, you let Blade offer you another slow draw back of his hips and when the next press of his bulge between your thighs makes you gasp, you can’t help but try to play it off.
“Your tea will get cold.” Your words are muffled against his lips, victim to his kisses, but he offers you a momentary lapse in his pace to breath when he breaks away to cast a glance towards the mug on the bedside table.
Only a glance. Before he’s back on you, pulling at your clothes this time.
❛ 𝑷𝑹𝑬-𝑫𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑫 𝑳𝑶𝒀𝑨𝑳𝑻𝒀 ❜ minors do not interact.
⭒ it wasn’t unusual for you to be invited to banquets hosted by the family, given your profession— it was a familiar environment for you around the high class clientele. still, your night seems to take a turn when your most valuable client appears to be in attendance.. yet you’re not on his arm. 6618 words.
fem ( dreamscape escort ) reader x sunday. you’re hired to attend a banquet but not with sunday. jealous sunday. secret relationship. themes of sex work and escorts etc. sunday is your client. frottage & fingering with gloves. petnames used; my angel, my dear. possessive and controlling tendencies. reader wears a dress. exhibitionism. ₊ 𓂃 masterlist.
⊹ an unofficial part two to this this fic, although one can be enjoyed without the other! it just gives you more of a look into their relationship as they take place in the same au.
You were used to the banquets, the lavishness of the parties and the luxury of their guests. It was when the likes of yourself, escorts of the Dreamscape, truly found themselves in high demand. High profile clients to satiate— members of the factions of the Family or well esteemed guests from the cosmos.
None of this was new to you, in fact some may even consider it the most part of your everyday. Although you must admit it has been far longer than just a few system hours since you were last hired for something so.. high profile.
Although you think that a particularly greedy client of yours may be to blame for that, stealing not only most of your time and appointments but also.. paying far too handsomely for you to complain about it.
Except for tonight that is, which leaves your calendar open and serves as your opportunity for invitation to the banquet tonight.
Your lucky client- or.. date, should you say, is none other than Mehlem, of the Iris family. A man that you've accompanied a few times before, but not seen for a while due to some prior arrangements. He was kind, only around his late twenties in age, although still quite gullible and carefree. But most of his reputation came from his lineage to that of Borridge, one of the families most valued actors.
Mehlem, on the other hand- didn't have much talent in anything, nor a singer nor a dancer despite the expectancy of his family being the 'faces of Penacony.' He liked sports, was handsome and polished, and had a decent physique, but still found himself falling short when it came to scoring any women.
Which is why, to save face— your services were required for most of his public appearances. Although, you cant help but find yourself wondering why they even invite him to begin with.
"Hey, hey! Are you listening?" Mehlem groans from where he's basically resting on top of you in the backseat of his drivers car, his arm waving infront of your gaze in an attempt to bring you back into the present. It’s pretty obvious you weren't, far too focused on anything else except the latest roboball game that he was going on about.
But because he's paying you, you meet him with a smile. "Sorry, i was busy admiring. You look quite handsome in this suit." It’s almost robotic the way the compliment slips from your lips, but you've rehearsed it so many times that you cover it well, fluttering your lashes up at your patron before he's meeting you with a playful grin of his own.
"How brazen indeed." Mehlem winks at you, boyishly charming, before he's shifting himself closer, making you suddenly aware of the arm he's got wrapped around your shoulders before he makes a shameless display of dragging his eyes along your dress. "The dress looks even better on than i thought."
Yes, as part of the contract— your patrons would be the ones to dress you if they so liked. But for an occasion quite like a banquet, it was recommended, if not basically required given its high profile guests, media coverage and reputation.
But unfortunately, much like always, Mehlem always opted to dress you in something that was quite.. uncomfortable, to say the least. Even as an escort, you much preferred the lavish, classier fabrics that your more notorious guests could have tailored for you— dressing you up in the most radient of garments to really show you off without showing too much at the same time.
Maybe you've been spoiled in that regard by... others, too used to gifts and people understanding your taste that now you've gotten far too picky. You’re at work after all.
Instead, the low cut dress you're wearing now leaves little to the imagination, not only skin tight but the slit along the outside of your thigh rests just short of where the waistband to your panties begins. Were it to be a fairly windier night in the Dreamscape (although unlikely) you'd be much too cautious about accidentally flashing someone to even make it out of the car.
But because he's paying you, you smile. "I love it, it fits just perfectly!" Just as your ride seems to pull up to the entrance to your destination, and Mehlem offers you a fleeting kiss to the cheek before the door to the backseat opens for you both.
He steps out of the car first, as expected from the one who holds the invitation and then extends his arm out to you second as you take your first step. You fall into your place next to him quite quickly as your heels land safely on the pavement to his right, smiling at the members who wait to greet you both.
You and Mehlem arrive quite timely as you make your way towards the entrance with the other arriving guests, and you cant help but look around aimlessly as he greets members from other factions. You recognise a few immediately; from past and present clients to esteemed agents and dreamweavers.
It was truly one of Penacony’s more grandeur parties, hosting the Alfalfa family to the... Oak family, and all under one roof. Some may count themselves lucky to even have the opportunity to show face as a plus one, and you do—although you can’t quite shift the uncomfortable feeling that seems to have nestled its way into your gut.
It’s almost like something akin to dread as you make your way up the staircase, entering into the lavish banquet hall as you nervously adjust the slit on your dress, then your neckline next as the fabric clings to you tightly.
The atmosphere is quite bustling with your first step, with live music courtesy of the Iris family, as Mehlem continues to greet people and bask in his name, leaving you to grip onto his arm like a pretty doll. It’s quite the usual for you, to stand there and look beautiful— to laugh at your clients jokes or bask in the compliments that his acquaintances offer you.
Although overwhelming at first, you get used to it fairly quickly, you were somewhat accustomed to it after so long, numb to it. Yet, you cant help but find some respite when you finally make your way across the room, to a quieter clearing near the bar as your date offers you another bright look. He snakes his arm around your waist when you turn to meet his gaze, urging you to come a little closer.
It’s quite a shameless public display, but part of the job nonetheless.
"Are you having fun?" Mehlem grins at you as his hand smoothes along your hips, almost a little too low given the location and the status of your audience, but you mirror his expression anyway.
"Mhm, I’m quite flattered you brought me as your plus one," You find yourself looking around over your shoulder as your date seems to ever so slightly close the distance separating you. He was often like this in public, not really caring much for who were to see him being affectionate with you— but you found yourself to feel quite restless given the high profile of your environment.
Mehlem continues, almost purring. "Well, I couldn't miss the chance. This party is only for those handpicked by the Family, and I chose you. You must be feeling pretty lucky, no doubt— being associated with the Iris family."
"Yes, it is quite the honour," You hum back, as if automatically.
You’ve caught a few people staring already— including security from the Bloodhounds and some other high profile faces. It makes you feel quite warm given the way your date is leaning into you, expecting a kiss no doubt. But you're not quite in the mood, not here.
So you try to tap on Mehlem’s chest, discreetly pushing him back— although it does little to deter him as he quickly closes the distance. He’s paying for this after all and this is your job, it would be quite a bad look were you to suddenly begin withholding affection.
You almost relent, but something familiar seems to stop you before that.
"Do pardon my interruption. Mehlem, of the Iris family, is it?" The sound of his voice is familiar, but it does little for your rising body temperature. Instead— it seems to almost burn you as you become basically rigid in Mehlem’s arms.
While your date on the other hand, seems to do quite the opposite as he quickly turns to face the Oak family head before you both.
"Oh! Mr Sunday, it’s an honour to meet you. I dont think we've ever been introduced." Your date seems to almost choke as he speaks first, obviously quite surprised by the presence of Sunday himself. But he still seems to be holding it together a lot better than some may, like you; as you stand there like a deer caught in headlights— with another mans arm around your waist, and infront of your most generously paying patron.
Although he'll always say he's a lot more than just that.
"Hm, yes. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. I, on behalf of the organisers, extend my sincerest welcome to you, wishing you joy under Their radiance." You will yourself to look at him, just once as he speaks and you don't know whether it stings you or soothes you when you realise he's not looking back.
Sunday stands opposite you in a much different manner than you're used to seeing him in. But he has that same perfect, put-togetherness that he always possessed. He’s quite beautiful like this, his suit tailored perfectly, pressed from head to toe and without so much as a hair out of place. His halo seems polished, more golden than ever and it only seems to make him look like someone people may ask their God for.
You find that one, simple look turning into something that lingers much longer— until you're sure you're staring, but with little thought of stopping as you grit your teeth through the conversation.
"Y-you are truly like they say— thank you for inviting me. Maybe later we could grab a drink... o-on me, ofcourse. There’s this drink that they do at the Moment of Stars that I’m sure you'll enjoy." Mehlem’s flapping almost, words pouring from his lips much faster than you can keep up but Sunday seems to register it, nonetheless.
Well, until in your date's nervousness— he seems to make a show of throwing his arm around your waist again, tugging you into his side brazenly, and for the first time since the conversation starts,
Sunday looks at you.
Although you think you'd rather he didnt given the way it makes your stomach turn, and you're suddenly reminded of just how revealing your dress tonight is as you try to contort your body as if to hide it. You dont know why,
This was just work, but he’s looking at you like he’s considering it everything but.
Not a moment later, his eyes are back on Mehlem— although you notice that his smile seems to have lost the kindness from before. It’s a subtle shift, but it’s one you recognise given your familiarity with the Oak family head, it almost makes you feel sick.
Sunday hums, "Indeed, and I am sure until then you will do your best as to not disrupt your families reputation. After all, are we not amongst our most distinguished of guests? Some things are best indulged in our private quarters. Wouldn’t you agree?"
It’s obvious what he's referring to, even Mehlem picks up on it when his arm around you seems to fall quite quickly down by his side— swaying like he's suddenly lost all feeling in the limb completely.
Not that you can blame him, the ice to Sunday’s words even leaves you feeling quite humiliated— opting to shift your weight from side to side as you pretend to ease an imaginary ache from your heels. The man next to you, only offers the head of the Oak family an apologetic nod.
Any real apology he hopes to give, comes out no more than a nervous stutter. But still, the man opposite you both seems to be quite pleased with that.
"Well, Mr Mehlem. If we are in agreement, I must see to my other guests. I wish you and your.. date a pleasant evening." Date— the word is like venom, searing your skin with hot iron, as Sunday speaks it, but he makes no attempt to meet your gaze again before he leaves. Instead, abandoning you with an ache in your chest and a dejected looking Mehlem by your side as he mutters to himself, leaving you to deal with the aftermath of such an icy first encounter.
You half expect your date to throw a fit, to begin to badmouth the Oak family head or do something else unspeakable. But instead, his next words surprise you more than anything.
"He’s quite impressive up close, I dont think we've ever met— we're not normally in the same circle. Maybe he's heard about me from Borridge and that's why he thought to introduce himself tonight." You’re not quite sure that's the case, but you have little interest in bringing up your own suspicions. Your relationships with your clients was strictly confidential after all.
“I wonder if he watches Taikiyan Roboball, it is the most popular sport in the entire universe, a truly outstanding spectacle so I’d be surprised if—“ Mehlem goes on but your mind drifts.. it shouldn't— he's paying you to pay attention.
But there's something alike to a quiver that draws you away, a whisper of something beckoning your attention from right in the back of your mind. Until your gaze is on Sunday again— as if he was calling for it himself.
It did feel different to see him in this environment— although not completely unfamiliar to you, it was his everyday and you can see now why people seem to hold him in such high regard. He’s perfect, polite and inviting as he greets patrons— he remembers names, smiles, faces. He truly was a worthy representative for the Family— it almost makes something between your ribs sting as you watch him entertain the people before him.
Sunday never once looks at you,
and you think that’s why the environment feels more unfamiliar than ever, knowing you weren’t the only subject of his attention outwith your quarters, for once.
He was your client and you, his escort. But only when he paid you to be. No more— no less.
It’s an aching realisation, and despite the little fabric your dress consists of you cant help but feel flushed, almost even a little lightheaded as you turn to give Mehlem a clouded look. He’s still going on about roboball, paying little attention to you and instead focusing on the same man you are.
It seems sunday has gotten you both in quite the state, but you excuse yourself with your next trembling exhale as your date continues muttering to himself. Mehlem opts to approach the bar in your coming absence instead, most likely looking for another sports enthusiast while you desperately try to find an unlocked door to take a breather.
You need away from the party, the buzz, from him. Finally finding yourself pushing through the doorway to an empty looking hallway as you press yourself up against the wall, focusing on your breath.
You feel almost embarrassed to have ended up in such a position, you have a highly praised reputation as an escort in the Dreamscape afterall— one of, if not thee most popular of your establishment and often finding patrons travelling across the cosmos to offer their affections and time to you.
You’re not supposed to be so affected by a job, it is not in your contract.
So you focus hard on settling your breathing instead, willing yourself to stop the erratic beating of your heart while you clear your mind. It’s true, Sunday has been the reason you've had little interactions with other patrons recently. He did simply detest the idea of imagining you with other men— that point being even more solidified considering the way he looked at you tonight.
But this is still your job, your livelihood— this is work. That is all this is.
"That is all this is." You repeat it to yourself— once, twice before fidgeting with the plunging neckline of your dress again and readying yourself to go and talk some roboball. Mehlem had paid quite the price for your attention after all, it was only fair he got his money's worth.
But it seems you're no longer alone in this once unoccupied hallway, suddenly finding yourself stopped in your tracks almost immediately when you turn to leave.
"You should seek to be within arms length should your date beckon for you, my dear." The familiar petname seems to lack its usual affectionate warmth this time as Sunday speaks it aloud. "I for one, would not let you out of my sight."
You’re frozen where you stand but with every word, the man before you closes that distance. His steps sound careful, although loud amongst your beating heart— even with the still ongoing party raging on past the doors behind him.
All of that pep talk you gave yourself, only to be left utterly speechless when presented with the very man you couldn't help but seek.
Sunday seems to pick up on that, but his expression leaves little to be read when he finds himself standing opposite you once again. Although there's a shift in the air now, you are without a date this time and it is just the two of you.
"Then again, if it were to be me in his position— I would've put you in something much more... befitting of your radience," It’s a subtle sort of jab at Mehlem’s tastes but you're not really surprised given the Oak family head's own stylistic choices. Not that you ever complained much, he knew your preferences after all, from your favourite cut and fabric to your favourite colour.
Sunday scoffs, although the sudden press of his fingers on your skin makes you jump despite it being the soft fabric of his gloves. He reaches out to take the thin fabric of your dress between his fingertips, rolling it between them before he's lifting his gaze to give you an almost suffocating look.
"To display you in such frivolous garments is almost distasteful." His hold on you drops, but the distance between you remains the same. "Nevertheless, it seems I am in no position to judge, so I shan't say more,"
"You are not on my arm, after all." It’s quite a straight-forward statement but something about it burns you when its accompanied by Sunday making to take a step back. It’s what wills you to finally find your voice,
"Sunday." You sigh, although a futile attempt to stop him— he still remains regardless. You’d spent enough time together for you to know parts of his personality after all (even if only the parts he chose to show you)— you knew this reaction was unavoidable, it wouldve happened sooner or later.
"You know this is work, it doesn't mean anything like that. So is the hostility truly necessary? It is my job and he is just my patron." You say exasperatedly as you give Sunday an almost desperate look— one he meets with his usual patient expression, although it doesn't take long before it breaks. Even if only to show you the whisper of a frown.
But he moves quicker than you are prepared for— surprising you enough for your back to quickly become tight against the wall behind you, hard concrete doing little to cushion your fall. Yet the man opposite you seems to waste no time on crowding over you there, letting one of his gloved palms rest on the wall above your shoulder— while the other takes an almost familiar hold of your waist.
Sunday’s hold is noticeably tight on your skin; like he's exuding caution knowing you have a date waiting only a few feet away, yet leaving you in no position to put any distance between you both as you rest almost pressed chest to chest with him.
The sudden proximity makes your breathing hitch— and you almost fear that the man above you may be able to feel the racing of your heart in your chest. But before you can break the silence between you both (or think up something else to say) he opts to do it first,
"Is that truly all this is, my angel? You know better than most that I do simply detest dishonesty." Sunday’s hand which previously rested on the wall to your side reaches for you now, opting to cup your cheek— tilting your head up so your gaze meets with his.
Then he continues, "The way that scoundrel looks at you is hardly fabricated, like a mangy dog desperately seeking its next meal." His words are cutting, writhe with jealousy— its quite obvious, but you make no show of pointing it out.
Instead, as if by instinct; you find yourself leaning in to the press of Sunday’s palm— an action that he seems quite pleased by as he takes a deep breath. As if regaining his usual, professional composure before his fingers seem to trail lower— until they're grazing down your jawline, then your throat.
"He’s surely ignorant to the facts before him." His words seem to trail off as his palm presses its way to its destination— emphasising his sentence by letting it rest over the jewellery along your collarbones. “To whom you devote yourself too.”
It’s a necklace that Sunday had bought for you— one that he'd given to you during one of your many nights together. He always insisted on more lavish gifts, and you hadn't even realised that you'd forgotten to remove it before you're date tonight.
Not that you ever did.
But still, seeing you still wear it before him seems to lessen the tension in his shoulders. You almost see Sunday smile for the first time since this whole exchange started.
And that gives you the courage to finally feel like you can articulate a response, "There’s nothing between me and Mehlem, nothing real. My attention is what he pays for, Sunday. This will always just be work." You’re repeating yourself most likely but its a point you want to stress.
There was a line between your work and your personal life, although the implication does only seem to be quite contradictory considering your position now, with another patron no less.
But you feel Sunday’s fingers tighten around the base of your throat before you can continue; just enough for you to be aware of his grasp but not enough for it to restrict your next trembled breath. You know its meant as a means for you to stop, and you follow the request not a second later, earning you a chuckle from the Oak family head before hes readjusting himself— bringing you closer.
"Indeed, I am well aware of your— our circumstances, you need not remind me." The man over you exhales a sigh, drawn out as if he's thinking. "There are times where I believe I’ve made peace with it,"
Your lips part and Sunday leans in, "But then I think of you.” You feel almost lost in him, hanging on his every word and he's barely touched you yet,
“This is the alchemy that you do."
He’s not given you so much as a kiss but you can barely wait any longer as you let your arms reach up to rest over his shoulders.
His lips are already ghosting over yours, were you to shift only slightly— they'd press against him but you know well enough not to do such a thing. Instead you'll wait until he takes it,
Although you can barely focus on anything except the way Sunday’s hand seems to be moving again, casting intoxicatingly slow circles across your body while the other around your waist squeezes. His palm gropes you, from your chest to your ribs— traversing along the planes of your waist before it trails beneath your hip and something inside of your burns when it rests just short of the slit to your dress.
He breathes again, and you feel it smooth along your features as your lashes flutter. "But make no mistake, I know the turmoil of losing your way. Therefore, you shan't be condemned for such." The space between your thighs aches and you shift on your feet, as if willing his hands to continue,
"What truly matters is which is the course you shall take now, my dear? To whom do you swear yourself too?" Sunday asks you earnestly and you offer him a slow blink before you let your legs step apart, spreading your thighs for him as an answer to his question. The act makes him chuckle, truly this time before he looks over you once more,
"Hm. As I suspected, although time is of the essence." He’s barely finished his sentence before hes pressing his lips onto yours with little hesitation— humming with the first true taste of your kiss and you cant help but find yourself grabbing at him, greedily as he presses his tongue between your teeth.
But Sunday’s words were true— time was not on either of your sides given the still ongoing party outside and his much required presence. So he wastes none of it, as he finally opts to push his fingers beneath the slit of your party dress, huffing against your lips when he realises just how close your panties rest behind it, barely hidden.
You hadn’t noticed how wet you are— far too enthralled in the back and forth between you and your lover. But it’s obvious when his fingers press softly between the still clothed petals of your pussy, feeling the immediate warmth through the dampness of your panties.
It’s only made worse with the urgency in which he kisses you, tongue pushing against your own— taking control of your movements and your body as he wills you to his command. Your stomach twists as you lose yourself in it.
Although you’re not particularly surprised by your current state yourself, not with Sunday’s obvious show of devotion, no— possessiveness and you know it’s a product of that itself as the realisation makes you twitch beneath his suffocating touch.
Yet, he’s not quite convinced himself, “And what might this be the result of, my dear? Am i wrong to assume it may be a result of your date?” His amber eyes glimmer up at you as he offers you a tantalisingly slow circle of his fingers, pressing harder onto the nerves between your thighs until they almost sting.
Your thighs shake, “Y-yes, you’re wrong.” Desperate, as his touch traces its way up to your clit and you grab at him— rousing his otherwise perfect appearance beneath your hands. Like you both don’t have a party to return to, and it makes Sunday breathe out a chuckle.
You almost sob, “It’s for you. Only for you.” Your words seem almost foreign on your tongue as your mind fogs with the pleasure he’s making you feel— desperately trying to pair them together, all while he’s rubbing at you over your panties with two of his fingers.
Sunday seems quite pleased with that, “Hm, now that is much more pleasing, wouldn’t you agree?”
“M-mhm! It is—“ How does one deny a man that is working you with such precision— his body crowding, pressing you into the wall behind you as his hand slinks beneath your dress to touch you. Not that you’d ever dream of denying the facts, nobody has ever made you feel quite like Sunday does and that much was obvious now.
“A shame I can’t announce this good news to him personally.” It’s a smug sort of response from the Oak family head over you, but still Sunday rewards your good behaviour with another sinful swirl of his wrist as he feeds into you.
He doesn’t hold out on you much longer after that, he’s quickly pushing beneath the now sticky fabric of your panties with his next breath, making you both sigh as he trails his still gloved fingers through your bare folds. It’s all while you desperately fight to keep your legs from crumbling— although your lover does his best to hold you upright, it’s still quite hard to stay standing when your legs so desperately want to buckle with every swipe of his hands.
You wish you could have more of Sunday— all of him, to have him unbuckle the intricacies of his suit just enough to pull out his cock and fuck you into a mere puddle of mewls.. But you know it’s impossible, time of all things a contributing factor.
Although you find yourself in no position to complain when the next swipe of his fingers between your folds is purposeful, dragging the rough pad of his glove beneath the hood of your clit as he rolls the sensitive bud again and you twitch. Your manicured nails grab onto the fabric of his jacket when he brings another finger to join the first and you push your chest tight against his as you shake.
“Sunday—“ You whisper softly, eyes casting him a lustful glance before you’re pressing your face into the crook of his neck— inhaling the intoxicating scent of his cologne.
“Yes— i know, my angel. Just tell me your demands.”
The sweet display only urges Sunday to bare down onto your puffy clit harder and quite eagerly, as he pushes more of himself between your legs— forcing you to spread them wider for him while also using his own body to keep you upright. “Don’t stop,” You gasp, and doesn’t— he keeps the pace and pressure until you’re wet enough for him to push two fingers inside, groaning when he’s not met with much resistance.
His fingers remain covered by the thin fabric of his gloves, but they are still long enough for you to hiss slightly at the stretch. You feel him press an open mouthed kiss against your temple in response, as a means to soothe you, much like he always did in the privacy of your quarters—
It’s an almost soft show of affection between an escort and her client, but it’s a reassurance you favour quite obviously as it causes your walls to squeeze.
“Had I not stumbled upon you tonight— it would’ve been quite a shame for you to be left in such a desperate state, hm?” Sunday hums, smiling as his lips graze the shell of your ear and the low tone of his voice makes goosebumps burst along your flesh.
You nod, babbling incoherently— far too close to your orgasm already for it to not be quite embarrassing but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Infact he seems to quite like your desperation, so he presses his fingers up with angled purpose with the next flick of his wrist. Offering you a content sigh when they brush against the spongy spot inside of you, and he languidly pumps them in and out of your wet heat as you fight to breathe against him.
For someone who had so much to say about Mehlem’s show of affection earlier— Sunday seems to have no qualms about the sounds your making now, even with his reputation on the line and a room of high profile Family members just feet away. Although, you’re thankful for the loud performances from the Iris family and the loud Dreamscape atmosphere— it doing wonders for covering up every lewd squelch that seems to echo louder everytime he sinks his fingers into you.
He swirls more gentle circles into your cunt with his thumb as your walls squeeze and your body desperately twists beneath his touch. Every press of his fingers serves to drag more of your slick from your walls, making a sloppy messy between your thighs and going as far as to soak pieces of your dress.
Sunday feels your walls tighten around him as he speeds up his ministrations, pulling a surprised whine from your lips. “Hm, I believe your loyalty was already determined far before I found you here.” He huffs, finding himself gritting his teeth as his cock presses tightly, straining against the fabric of his slacks now. “Would this be a correct assumption? Tell me, now.” He’s unable to hold back himself at the sight of you like this, and you already feel far too close to your release,
“Y-yes! I… I couldn’t stop thinking about you, only you—“
“Heh, it seems you are much more resilient than I thought, my dear. Yes, your devotion to me is quite admirable,” The possessive undercurrent to his voice has your hips grinding eagerly into his touch, brushing your clit harder against his thumb as your warm cunt pulses around his digits. You seem to be sucking Sunday back in everytime he drags them out, and in your blissful state— you pull back to blink up at him, to meet his gaze with your own starry-eyed one.
Your fingers tighten into his jacket as you urge him to come even closer, and he offers the low cut of your dress a lingering look as your tits press up against his chest.
“Though I’ll see to it that you’re sent something much more.. befitting of your b-beauty for your next banquet.” He stutters, composure slipping with the proximity and the warmth that he feels consume him, even if only by association, due to seeing you like this. “Though, I’d much rather avoid seeing another despicable display as I did earlier. You don’t want your sworn devotion to be clouded by doubts now, do you?”
Sunday looks at you again, amber eyes narrowed— heavy when he leans over you to kiss up the column of your neck in the way that has your thighs spreading wider and your head knocks back against the wall. Your eyes flutter as you feel almost lightheaded at the affection.
“No but, then.. maybe I’ll be your date for the n-next one instead,” You speak freely, although without much thought and for a second it makes the man over you pause— barely noticeable, although the throb of his cock is much more prominent before something seems to ignite in him.
Sunday responds as he pulls back, “Make no mistake, my dear. Were it allowed, you would never leave my side. Not for even an instant.” Before he smashes his mouth against yours.
Yes, your circumstances with the head of the Oak family were different, difficult— he wasn’t particularly allowed a date, nor an escort in public due to his notoriety and status, but still he kisses you like he’d risk it all in an instant. Like he doesn’t care who could see were you to be interrupted, were the doors to the banquet to open up in a stroke of misfortune and your relationship to be put on display for the whole of Penacony.
He doesn’t care, because it’s you.
So Sunday lets himself be greedy, drinking up your moans and making sure he’s the only one that hears them— in this moment, pushing his own name between your lips, hoping to overwrite the others that may have come before him.
It’s an act of devotion that suddenly makes your thighs shake, before the blissful feeling of your orgasm rushes through your veins and you struggle to stand— writhing in his embrace. But he holds you there while your walls flex and pulse around his gloved fingers and he continues to sink them into you, drawing gentle circles into your clit to prolong your pleasure while he swallows your needy moans and babbles of his name. He allows them to dance between his own before he pulls away.
The silence between you and Sunday remains for a little longer as you catch your breath, although he makes some attempts to straighten out your appearance— readjusting your dress and pulling your panties back into place.
Still, the prior neatness of your image is long gone behind the remnants of your still lingering bliss. Your lashes flutter as you find yourself balancing back on your heels, lifting your gaze quick enough to watch the way Sunday removes his now soiled gloves— pushing them into his pocket before he’s smiling again.
His usual smile— although accompanied by unusually flushed cheeks and messier hair. Well, unusual for some anyway— (but quite a familiar sight for you).
“Shall I see to it you arrive home safely, my angel? As I said, I have no intention to let you out of my sight tonight.” Sunday’s eyes seem much gentler now when he looks at you, the harshness of his gaze seemingly in the past, replaced by both of your shallow breathes and a closer proximity.
It almost makes you feel suddenly shy, warm. “But you’re.. the representative of the Family.”
As much as he didn’t need the reminder— you did, because you’re still at a banquet and you know better than anyone that Sunday can’t simply drop what he’s doing to see to his personal escort. His reputation would suffer quite considerably were he to start skipping out on requests from the Family for you,
But he doesn’t seem phased by your words at all, instead; his hand outstretches, inviting your own to take it.
“Not at the moment. I am simply a generous patron, or would you much rather I let you return to your prior company? However, he seems to have made himself quite familiar with the Soulglad at the bar— or was I wrong to assume you don’t have much interest in carrying him home?” You’d almost forgotten about Mehlem for a moment and even the reminder of him seems to almost give you a headache as you squeeze at your temple with two of your fingers.
“It’s probably best to just leave, I’ve made a mess of my dress anyway, not that it matters much.” With your words, you take Sunday’s hand regardless of all of that, and he lures you down the opposite end of the hallway. Smiling to himself as you tiredly blink down the abandoned stretch ahead— still quite unsteady on your feet as you follow him step by step.
His voice sounds almost peacefully, “Very well, then I shall see to it he’s dealt with accordingly, and your contract has been fulfilled, my angel.” It’s quite a reassuring statement from the head of the Oak family before he turns to face you in the hallway. The movement urges you both to stop in your efforts, even if only for a moment as he brings your fingers to his lips— offering you a kiss as his gaze rests quite sharply on your own.
Sunday breathes against your fingertips, “And well… I assume our appointment is still on for tomorrow. Unless, ofcourse— you have other arrangements?” He knows you don’t and even if you had, you have no doubts that you’re not in any position to turn him down.
Not that you want to, that much was obvious by the way you’re smiling up at him— gently.
It’s one of your more genuine, rarer smiles this time, afterall—
he’s not paying you tonight,
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr Sunday.”
You think this may turn out to be the last free night in your schedule for a while.
⸺ ⟢ synopsis. a run in at the training grounds with the knight commander leaves you feeling something you can’t quite explain, but it seems you’ve still got opportunity to figure that out when he visits you in your chambers later that night.
knight commander! jing yuan x princess! fem reader | wc. 6k words. | genres. smut. royal au. minors do not interact. | warnings. age gap. fem oral receiving. reader wears a dress / corset. i have not written jing yuan in close to a year so please forgive my characterisation. | return to masterlist.
⸺ ⟢ notes. this was supposed to be a warm up for a longer fic / series idea i have for knight! jing yuan, but alas 6k later as i proofread nearing midnight it is finally here lolol! tysm to mykai for the dividers ⚡️
Your breathing is short and laboured as you stand infront of the floor length mirror in your chambers.
Had you not been stubborn enough to send your maids away following a particularly bad run in with an... acquaintance in the courtyard, then you'd probably have saved yourself as much effort as you're expending right now. But because that was simply not the case, you're stuck here instead— blindly reaching for the tightly wrung ribbons of your corset while you try to undress yourself.
Even the reality of it all makes you mad, as if it isn’t your own doing.
But you’re sweating hard as you contort yourself to loosen out another part of the binding, and with the next popped bone of your dress allowing your lungs to expand just that bit wider with your next breath, you feel your body ease.
It does nothing for your still simmering temper, but wonders for your ribs atleast.
"That Jing Yuan, who does he think he is anyway?” You murmur to yourself as you wrestle your fingers beneath the ribbons and pull once more. "How dare he put me in such a ridiculous position, l am a princess."
And a ridiculous position it had been indeed.
But it didn’t help that the commander of your father's army, Jing Yuan, was a particularly frustrating fool of a knight. He was a terrible knight actually. A bad knight. Not in the way that you would expect; he was exceptional in battle and strategy when it came to commanding the ranks, you would even consider that to be exactly where his calling and talents lie.
But outwith the battlefield, when it is just him and.... you. You find the way that he teases you to be so unbecoming of a man of his reputation.
Your day had begun regular enough, you'd finished with your dinner early and found yourself eager to take a walk around the courtyard as you often times do. On your travels, and in the market for a little entertainment, you'd opted to pass by the training grounds— knowing that your father's army were most likely carrying out their daily drills.
You're not naive, you're simply a woman. And as much as some people would probably believe a princess to not be easily swayed by the sight of a bunch of sweaty knight's training hard, they'd be sorely mistaken. Actually, you couldn't have imagined a better way to pass the time than to simply admire the free entertainment given to you within the palace grounds.
Even a princess has her own needs and fantasies after all, and it's not like you're doing anything forbidden. You're simply…. admiring the view.
But what you had not bargained for, was for Jing Yuan of all people to be running the drills today.
He often left the training of the rookie knight's to his military officers; Gepard and Mydei, who were well respected amongst the ranks themselves and took great care when it came to nurturing the upcoming brothers of your father's army. But it seemed today had been a particularly special session, undertaken by the knight commander himself.
The path you had taken had led you to the yard— the dirt arena situated in the heart of three outbuildings. On the yard’s left stood the armory, and on its right, the stables. They sat nestled beneath the shadow of the castle, the sun not yet ready to set.
You'd come to squat in your usual spot, a small little opening hidden behind one of the larger oak tree's just north of the third outbuilding, only to be caught off guard when you'd first caught a glimpse of golden hair tied back expertly with his signature red ribbon.
You'd recognised him almost immediately, adorned in his usual golden crested armour, a steel lion embellished on his right shoulder— an exceptional show of the welders mastery of metals. It was beautiful in comparison to the standard steel edition that most knights wore, fitting for the commander— but more so for Jing Yuan himself.
Much to the delight of many, he was without his helmet today too which allowed the knight's forces to admire him in his entirety.
You’re sure some may believe Jing Yuan had been carved by Gods and Lords alike, only seeming to have grown more impressive with every passing year he’s served as Commander. He was only a few years younger than your father after all, his age showing in the way his muscles had grown softer and less defined now but no smaller in size, accompanied by a few lines in his face that only seemed to make him all the more handsome.
It suited him— in all of his might and glory. But it seemed you weren't the only one caught off guard by his presence either, most of the lesser knight's in their amateur lines had been wearing matching expressions of awe and respect since you had arrived, some even looking close to fearful as they admired the man standing infront of them.
Because as painful as it was for you to actually admit, Jing Yuan was a remarkable man. Even from your hidden position, that much was obvious. Every graceful movement of his body seemed to exude raw power, even if he was just marching himself infront of the raw lines of soldiers, his shoulders pulled back and upright while the muscles in his broad back flexed and moved with every command he called out over the lesser ranks.
But as much as Jing Yuan exuded discipline, you were one of the only people who know that wasn't all he truly was.
You'd often catch him slacking off and napping in the armoury between drills, or snagging a few treats from the maids in the kitchen after offering them a few words that were no doubt just as sweet, wearing that upturned smile of his that always had them swooning about him for days afterwards. It was stomach-churning to watch, to see a notoriously known man of his reputation to also have a side that was quite honestly… unknightly.
And you were not free from those same smiles yourself. Unfortunately, there had always been something strange between you and Jing Yuan. Like something being nurtured but unsaid, an affection, perhaps? Or maybe something more sacred. Though at the same time, if the opportunity ever arose for him to tease or pick on you in his own unique way, he'd gladly take that by the reigns too.
Which made you feel… something. Something you would rather not unpack because you know it would be ridiculous. He was much older than you to begin with, and you would feel truly silly were you to mistake the dotings of your much respected senior for the true affection of someone interested in courting you.
After all, you're sure there's a long list of maidens waiting for Commander Jing Yuan to finally retire and whisk them away into a cottage of their own some day.
Not that it's any of your concern, not at all. But even as you’d found yourself still admiring the slow movement of his muscles as he walked the recruits through their drills— even if only in glimpses beneath the joints in his armour— you couldn’t stop thinking about it. He made every shift of weight look so effortless, such an ease to the strength he exuded even when the usual weight of iron in his hands had been replaced by that of a wooden training sword.
It had made you almost not only restless but reckless, readjusting yourself in your position even if it risked being seen just so you could’ve taken a closer look.
He just made it seem so much more deadly than you would’ve thought. But it was only when Jing Yuan had taken a particularly brutal swing, that you swear you had felt a glimmer of his gaze capture a hold of yours from behind your shrubbery.
It had been fleeting, and gone so quickly that it made you question whether it even happened at all. But you had felt it, something shifting in the depths of your gut and that alone was enough to spook you back to your feet— scurrying towards any sort of shelter in the hopes of severing the idea of the Commander having noticed you gawking at him.
It was only when you had stumble through the back of the closest outbuilding that you realised you had come into the armoury.
Swords, knives, quivers and arrows littered the walls, the shelves equipped with every tool and weapon a man-at-arms might wield. It was all unfamiliar to you, a princess, standing there in your silken corset and your delicate lace. Yet you found it utterly fascinating.
There were jerkins, armour, and chain-mail lying in crates along the floor, and in the centre of the room stood a long oak slab held up by two barrels. You surveyed the room a second time before you had approached it, and only when you had ran your hand across the carvings in the wood did you hear the door you just came through suddenly fasten again behind you.
It almost made you jump.
"Your Highness." Jing Yuan's voice had said first. "To what do we owe the honour of your presence on the grounds today I wonder?”
But that had startled you, making you clasp your hand over your chest at the sudden intrusion before you hurried to turn towards him, frowning in an attempt to play it off. Though the smile Jing Yuan was wearing appeared to let you know he had saw right through you anyway.
"I am the princess, surely I should be able to stop by to check on the army whenever I so please."
To that, the commander smiled. "Of that you may."
"Is that why you came to find me? To question what I'm doing around here?"
Your voice had came out much harsher than you expected it to, but Jing Yuan didn’t seem phased by it at all. Instead he had taken a step closer, willing you to take a step back when he came to stand beneath the torches and hearth— the only source of light in the armoury as they cast shadows over the width of his huge body, reflecting off the gold of his chest plate and gauntlets.
His head tilted, offering you a lazy expression. "Now that I think about it, it would seem that way, wouldn't it?"
"That is not an answer, commander Jing Yuan."
"Mmm, is it not?"
"Must you always speak in such riddles, or do you do it deliberately to tease me?" You hadn’t known where to look when he crossed the room in a few big steps, and any distance you had been hoping to put between you both again had been interrupted when you felt the oak slab press against the backs of your thighs.
Jing Yuan's eyes jumped up and down your body. "Is that what you think of my intentions?" He asked, though there was still a hint of that ever lingering amusement in his tone. "It would be quite unwise of me to tease a princess, especially when she has done us the honour of stopping by of her own accord."
"Good." You had taken a step forward then, trying to keep your head high but your hands were knotting in your skirt. "Keep it that way then. So then… how are they coming along?"
Jing Yuan had raised a brow at you, as if surprised by your sudden interest in the training of your father's army and if you were to be honest, you were surprised by the question out of your own mouth aswell. But considering how close the commander's huge body had been to yours in that moment, it had been the only coherent thing you could think to say.
"There are still preparations to be made for this round of recruits." Jing Yuan explained, "But I believe they will make fine warriors come their graduation, the front lines will be lucky to have them."
You had surveyed him, nodding as if you understood. "That seems to be the case I’m sure, but they are under your watchful eye, commander Jing Yuan. I expect no less."
"Was that a compliment, your Highness?" Jing Yuan asked, with something in his voice that made you perk up.
"Don't let it get to your head."
"Of that I cannot promise." He smiled at you. In that incredibly handsome, but worn way that he usually would and you hadn’t known whether it was the heat of the moment or the doings of your own mind that had made the commander suddenly seem much… closer than he was before.
That was when it had all really went downhill. Perhaps it had been that little, fleeting moment of banter that had ruined it all. You had leaned back against the heavy oak slab in the middle of the floor again and laid your palms flat behind you, giving the older knight a look.
Jing Yuan had looked down at you aswell, his gaze lingering on your mouth before climbing to your eyes and you had been suddenly thankful for the cover of the darkly shadowed armoury. Had it been broad daylight, the intense heat in your cheeks and the flustered expression on your face would have been unmistakable.
But you had suddenly felt tethered— wrapped in an invisible string that tied you to the Knight Commander of your father's army. And then you were painfully aware of how closely you stood— the warmth of his broad body, even smothered beneath his armour— the curve of your breasts above your neckline as you took quick, unsteady breaths— the sound of his calloused hand suddenly having placed itself down on the table next to yours.
“It's a pity I cannot escort you back to your chambers myself.” Jing Yuan said. His lips curled into the ghost of a smile. “But there is still work for me here.”
You had kept still, waiting for something you didn’t have the courage to name. You didn't have to. With his free hand, Jing Yuan had cupped the side of your face, his thumb lingering perilously close to your mouth. Your breathing hitched in your lungs and as if by instinct alone, your lips parted, anticipation melding with a lightness you could not understand.
Jing Yuan let out an abrupt exhale— his thumb brushed across the flesh of your bottom lip, snagging it. Then he leaned closer, you closed your eyes when his mouth was only a whisper from your own.
Your voice caught at the edges. “You are a busy man, Commander.”
"Yes. It can be most unfortunate at times." His breath stirred your eyelashes, the tip of his nose grazing yours.
"You’re good at what you do." You'd said, another compliment. As easy as breathing with the steel of his chest plate pressed against you. "I'm sure everyone is dying to have your undivided attention."
"Really now? Could the same be said about you then, your Highness?" Jing Yuan's words had moved something in you. The same calling that you'd felt before—the same ache.
You wanted him to run his hand over your mouth again— to feel the texture of his rough, hardened skin from all of those years of battle. Your body was screaming, a mindless, impatient call for touch. His unknightly, dishonourable touch.
“It does not matter what I want, Commander Jing Yuan.” Your own throat hitched, eyelids lowering for a fraction of a second until you felt that Jing Yuan's hand had brushed yours. When you looked up, he was watching you, his eyes softer than before.
“I can assure you, it is all that matters.” He said, his mouth close now, so close his lips tugged at yours. It felt... raw. Honest. It felt more than just an oath of loyalty sworn to your father, for a fraction— it felt like he saw you. Something you were deeply unfamiliar with.
It had taken Jing Yuan, Commander of your father's army, and a knight supposedly bound by an oath of loyalty to the crown, to make me you realize what you truly, deeply wanted.
And you were terribly afraid of that.
Which is why, it only took a fraction of a second for you to push Jing Yuan off of you and make your way past him just as quickly. He had let you, and you had known it because you had also known that a man of his stature and position would not easily have been moved by a princess— but you could not have helped the mess that had become of your mind in those fleeting moments alone with him, and he seemed he picked up on that aswell.
It was the very reason you tried to avoid being alone with the older knight to begin with, because you could not allow yourself to feel everything that he made you crave. You were a princess, with a duty and standards and he was a knight— bound by oath and honour. So you had left Jing Yuan there, beneath the torchlight in the armoury, knowing he would not follow you because it was not his duty.
That was when everything had begun to surface;
The regret, the fear, the hope. The child's idea that perhaps you would be able to take hold of your desire was a petulant dream, so by the time you'd pushed your way back up the dirt path and ordered everyone to leave your chambers when they'd tried to help you out of your garments. The only way you could think to manifest your disappointment was to allow it to be felt as something else.
Resentment.
You're pulled from your own hazy memories of the hours prior and sweating hard in the middle of your chambers again when you hear a quick wrap of knuckles on your door.
And immediately— a knot in your stomach forms at the possibility of just who it might be. It's not often you're bothered by many people at these hours, and with the frosty send off you'd given your maids earlier you're confident they won't be coming back for the rest of the night.
That really leaves only one person. And he very rarely visits this side of the wing. Not without summons or purpose that is.
You allow your arm to snake around the bustier of your dress, holding the corset in place as to make sure your breasts don't spill out completely. But you're far too frazzled right now to even take that into consideration when you answer the call.
"Who…. who is it?"
The few seconds of silence following your question feel like lead in your stomach.
"Knight Commander Jing Yuan, your Highness." He calls through the door. "I hope my unofficial visit will not cause you any trouble, but I feel there is something we must discuss."
There's a stammer in your heart at the answer, but you right yourself with a deep inhale and remember your place. You’re a princess— pull yourself together.
"You may enter, Commander."
And that Jing Yuan does.
But immediately, the way he looks at you is simply detestable. It strikes a fire in you that feels like it has never been tended, wild and unfettered as you fidget with the remaining hooks of your bustier. He takes up so much space you feel like your inhale breathes him in, he's shed off his steel armour now, leaving him in only his padded, textile armour that was often worn beneath.
Unfairly, the fitted fabric only appears to accentuate Jing Yuan’s muscles and size even more— but this time he is cast in the warmth of your chambers.
It makes him appear much softer in comparison.
His eyes flicker down towards the pour of your breasts, the fabric only held in place by your arm and then its back to you. He appears to pause at the sight of you, though it's barely noticeable before it's replaced by that same natural smoothness that Jing Yuan always honed.
You never quite know what he’s thinking. But the heat in his gaze gives you some idea as you turn your own away from him, and you hear the door close softly behind him as he steps entirely into your chambers.
Your voice almost catches as a flicker of memory from hours ago flashes through your mind. "I hope you've come to apologise."
"Apologise, hm?" Jing Yuan hums, that same lazy drawl taking hold of his tone and you hear the fabric of his clothes shift, like he's crossing his arms over his chest. "Is that what you expect from me?"
"If that is not the reason for your visit then why else would you stop by?"
Perhaps it's your own shame that's making you act out like this. Your arm squeezes a little tighter around the bones of your dress, and you assume that's the reason it feels so hard to breathe when you hear Jing Yuan take his first, heavy step closer.
In little time he's standing opposite you, confirmed by another shift sounding through the otherwise quiet space surrounding you both. And then his calloused, rough touch brushes against your cheek with contrasted softness. It takes every part of you to not lean into it, feeling your eyes flutter closed when it rests beneath your jaw.
Jing Yuan tilts your chin and turns you back to face him. When you open your eyes this time, his gaze pours into yours.
"You misunderstand. To apologise would suggest that I regret the advances that I have taken, and I am a man who does not make a move without endless preparations and efforts." Jing Yuan says, with such unwavering certainty. "But I am also patient, dishonourable? Perhaps. But do I regret it?" His lips curl into the ghost of a smile. "Well that is another question. If anything, it's a pity official matters have prevented me from doing this for so long."
You keep still, letting the silence fall over you both as Jing Yuan's eyes appear to examine the features of your face. It's only when they fall on your lips do you remember to exhale, and when you make to turn your head away this time, his hand falls back down by his side.
Your face burns hot.
"Well, what are you staring at… help me out of this ridiculously difficult thing." You say with a huff, fidgeting with the bustier of your dress as if it emphasis your current predicament.
Jing Yuan’s voice is slow, idle. "I am not sure that's wise." His words earn him a glare.
"Would you rather I kicked you out then?"
"Were I forced to take my leave, it would make things much easier for me."
His words almost burn you. Forcing you into another beat of silence, and you're surprised it is not filled by the beating of your own heart. Your head whips back around to face him, and only then do you find that Jing Yuan remains where he once was.
You meet his gaze. Examine the certainty that swells in the amber. "But you will not.” You say. Suddenly knowing.
"Alas, I will not." His voice bares the depths of dark water, smooth, unwavering. It makes your lashes flutter as you cast him a look.
He's all but standing over you, his body so much larger in comparison— his years of service evident in every muscle. The golden tresses of his hair frame his handsome face beautifully, and from this angle— you can't help but feel the sudden craving to run your hands through it and pull.
"Then what will you do, Commander Jing Yuan?" You ask through your next exhale.
"Whatever you ask of me." He responds in confidence. As expected of an older knight of his reputation. It hitches your breath.
"And if I asked you to kiss me then?"
Jing Yuan's hand rises again, sliding over your jaw to the nape of your neck, his fingers twisting in your hair, his mouth opening to yours.
"There could be nothing more honourable."
Your lips collide there, and you appear to press your entire self into him, wanting— needing— to feel him against your body as Jing Yuan all but wraps you up in his huge arms. You let go of your corset in favour of latching your arms around his broad shoulders instead, pulling closer as your breasts push up against his chest.
And Jing Yuan gives himself to you just as eagerly, as dishonourable as it was. For a knight of his stature— the commander of your father's army to have the princess wrapped up in him like this. It would be treason, worthy of a lifetime locked away in an iron cell in the basement of this very castle. But he kisses you like that's little a price to pay should it mean he gets to have this now.
You feel his hands cradle you, squishing at the bones of the corset still loosely holding your waist and as your mouth continues to move in delicate, intoxicating circles with his— you press your tongue between them. It's incredibly hot and bewitching, the way Jing Yuan's hands twist into your dress, puckering the fabric as he pulls it up over your knees.
"Please, allow me to have this one thing." You beg between gasps, pressing your mouth against Jing Yuan's as his solid frame keeps you upright. Your hands grab at the hard, worn fabric of his clothes and with little to no effort— he keeps you upright.
His voice smears against your lips. "Oh, I assure you. I will take great delight in this."
It was difficult, removing Jing Yuan's clothes with only one hand. Though you're thankful you're not being made to peel back the steel plates of his armour right now, you can't help but wonder how that would feel too. To feel the steel beneath your touch, and to feel his body curl beneath it.
After a few moments of fumbling with the intricate detailing of the textile defensive jacket, he helps you, bowing over you with his mouth still on yours. After his jacket comes off, his shirt is next— ripped over his head and tossed atop the growing pile of discarded clothes in the darkened corner of your chambers.
But you take a moment to admire him first. You run your hands over the huge muscles of his chest— his stomach, admiring the old battle scars that adorn his physique, his body softening with age but no doubt the strongest he's ever been. It renders you speechless, short on breath, and when your touch stops just below his navel, Jing Yuan shivers and pulls back.
"May I, your Highness?" He asks, sliding his hands up your legs and pushing your dress up until it sits in the crease of your thighs.
You give him a blown out, lidded look. "Aren't we past using titles now?"
"Oh? I thought for certain you liked when I called you that."
Jing Yuan’s fingers catch on your undergarments and with a surprisingly gentle touch he eases them down from your waist, so slow it makes you want to scream, his mouth a pace behind until you're forced to brace against the closest piece of furniture you can reach.
You catch your lower lip between your teeth and throw your head back, "You're insufferable, Commander."
Jing Yuan's cheek rubs against your inner thigh, your knee, your calf. When he slips your underwear off and flings them into the pile of clothes in the corner of the room, his hands return to your thighs and he looks up at you.
"And what of my title then, hm? Just Jing Yuan is fine, it seems you have earned much more than that by now."
"I could think of a few more things to call you should you keep teasing me."
Your breaths come rapidly, far too shallow for you to be making empty threats. But still, Jing Yuan bites with a playful, lazy tilt of his head.
"Is that so? Do share them with me then. We have time after all, I am in little rush."
You suddenly feel even more confined by your dress, despite it being barely laced at the back— the bodice is too constricting, pinning you in all the wrong ways. But this time, you tear the lacings open— your fingers clumsy and wild as the long silken cord releases you. The dress finally falls open, and you're able to take a filling breath, one that's full of him as his hands move to your hips.
Jing Yuan eyes take in the swell of your now free breasts, his gaze travelling all over your body as he drinks up the newly revealed skin. He pushes himself back up to look you in the eyes, that same faint— teasing glow staring back before he kisses you hard, and then he yanks you up by your thighs.
His strength sends you back, sprawling you out on the dresser you had been braced against as Jing Yuan lowers himself to his knees.
It's a sight to behold. To see a knight of his title, take to his knees between the very princess he’d sworn to protect’s thighs— you’re sure it bares some similarities to when he had first sworn that oath, but also many differences considering he is now in the middle of your quarters. He kisses the inside of your leg, the tips of his teeth edging over your skin and then his eyes find yours again.
"Allow me to do this for you." Jing Yuan asks, voice heavy with promise. But still he grins. "To miss out on such an opportunity would be a great loss after all."
"You think I would deny you?"
There's a hint of amusement in his features, he lifts one broad shoulder in a half shrug. "Well, I am an old man, being bound by my oath for years— I consider myself to be a rather boring person."
"You say that like you're ready to retire."
"Far from it, your Highness. I still have many years left in me." With a sharp breath, Jing Yuan pushes your thighs open, wide enough to accommodate his broad shoulders. "You will soon see why."
You put a hand over your mouth and fall back against the smooth oak dresser as the knight between your thighs buries himself beneath the hiked up skirt of your dress. The breath soars out of you, caught between a sigh and a curse, and the ache in your stomach moves lower— amber burning as hot as the gaze that admires from you his place.
You laugh, shutting your eyes and dropping your fingers into his hair. "Perhaps… I do like when you call me that."
"Oh? How interesting." Jing Yuan deliberately sighs his words into you, his huge hands on your hips tightening and holding you beneath him as he closes the only space keeping him from you.
The next kiss he presses below your skirt makes you ache in response, tendrils of heat knotting themselves over and over deep within you as he continues to place more delicate kisses against the folds of your already soaked pussy. He eats you out like you would expect him too, it's slow and lazy— but practiced and thorough, Jing Yuan lets his tongue graze and roll its way through your cunt like he's got all the time in the world.
It feels surreal almost, to think of your current state— pinned to a dresser in the corner of your chambers by your knight, his touch searing your skin, making you feel alive, free. You can feel him in your stomach, the palms of your hands, the soles of your feet.
Jing Yuan presses another long, drawn out kiss against the entrance of your cunt this time and it makes your toes curl in sheer delight. You throw your head back and pull at the blonde of his roots, yanking him closer with every flick of his tongue as he exhales another chuckle across the heightened nerves between your thighs.
It wasn't something that you wished to admit, but he was good at this, dangerously so. With every long swipe of Jing Yuan's tongue you can feel yourself being pushed closer towards an inevitable, ruinous fall. But he wasn't willing to let you fall just yet, with his sighs and the muffled, content growls that he was burying between your folds.
He was taking his time with you. Laying waste to you as your lips part to moan and you squeeze your eyes shut, your hands curling in his hair.
"Have you always been so g-good at this?"
"My, it has been quite some time. I was afraid I would be out of practice."
"Quite the opposite it seems—"
You feel Jing Yuan hum against you at the praise, as if he's pleased by it, driven even. And then suddenly— he's spreading your folds apart with a particularly long roll of his tongue, bringing it up to trace your clit in slow circles and then all of a sudden your whole body is tensing up up.
You cry out, pulling his hair, legs flexing and toes curling. While Jing Yuan only applies more of his weight down on top of you, smiling as he lets his hands slip up your stomach to take hold of one of your breasts and he squeezes. It's all so much at once, the weight of your orgasm— the warmth of his body blanketing yours as he bathes you in soft licks of his tongue, flicking your clit with his mouth until you're trembling and it takes every part of you to finally push him away with shaky hands.
But then you're pulling him back, wrapping him up in your legs and arms and when Jing Yuan's huge body bends over yours and presses you into the dresser— his lips brush yours.
"That was hardly fair."
"You're mistaken." He chuckles, kissing you once more— and if the dresser beneath you weren't the finest of wood you think it would be enough to press you through it. "A knight always fights fair, I have my honour to protect."
The mention of his honour is enough to make you giggle, especially considering the great weight of something heavier that you can feel pressing between your thighs. Jing Yuan seems aware of it too, because when he pulls away to look at you this time, he appears far more repressed than just moments before.
He looks from the glistening folds of your pussy beneath him to your eyes again, and then he hums. Quite pleased, but not yet satisfied.
"With that in mind." He starts again, his gaze honed on you as he strokes at your hips. "Perhaps I'll be fortunate enough to see it through once more. I can keep going to my hearts content."
Your legs are unsteady and trembling, but somehow you're able to push yourself up and end up on the floor with Jing Yuan beneath you. You're both heaped among your discarded belongings, tangled up with one another. And after he helps you discard the remaining fabric of your dress, you feel free enough to really take your own time with him.
You splay both palms flat against the huge muscles in his chest and look down at him, his abundance of restraint seemingly unable to hold back for much longer considering the way you can feel his heavy, thick cock straining between your legs.
"And might I ask what would really make a knight like you’s heart content?"
You tease Jing Yuan, fluttering your lashes and accompanying the question with an intoxicating swirl of your hips. He lets you, though it's not for long— because eventually, and with ease, Jing Yuan flips you onto your back with one fluid motion and never breaks your touch.
His lips find your neck, and when he presses into you, deeper than before. You let out an abrupt breath.
His eyes narrow on you, and his smile takes its usual place once more as he takes in the features of your face. As if memorising them.
Hear me out with the idea of Anaxa having an oral fixation please, I think he loves the feeling of your lips being wrapped around two of his fingers when you’re being particularly needy.
Even when he’s busy, it’s quite simple for him to simply press two into your mouth, pushing them deep enough for your lips to meet the edge of the red mark on his hand and he’ll allow them to rest there for a moment. You’ll fidget a bit— with equal parts impatience and glee and he’ll give you a neutral sort of look before muttering out “Impatient already? That does not surprise me.” and pressing more weight onto your tongue.
The pressure makes you gag a bit before you draw back and Anaxa’s fingers are wet with slick as you begin your withdrawal, wiggling your hips and batting your lashes up at him as he gives you a pleased look.
He loves the way they glisten beneath the dim lighting in the room and if it wasn’t already obvious by the now apparent tent in his slacks— he’s not going to scold you for it either. Infact, it looks like he may even reward you when he pulls back his fingers just enough to smear your own spit along your lower lip until it glistens.
Anaxa has to clear his throat to disguise the groan that threatens to break from it. Pure, guttural need as he watches the way your pout is manipulated easily by his fingers, and it’s only when you press a quick kiss to his fingertips does he sit up a little straighter. He gives his notes on the desk a half-hearted glance before turning more of his body towards you,
“I suppose I can return to this later.”
Should you really want it that badly, you can wrap your lips around the base of his cock next.
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