kissing wriothesley with lipstick on. it always ends with him wiping it off—some excuse about wanting to keep "clean skin". but this morning, you decided to give wriothesley a kiss on the cheek in the brightest red lipstick you have. a clear mark of your lips, pressed right on his left cheek. his excuse today? none. wriothesley decides not to put up a fight or argue about his clear skin. he finishes getting ready & bids you a kiss goodbye to your left cheek as he waltz out with the mark from you, still bright & proud.
˖°𓇼 Even with the prospect of a delicious dinner waiting for you, you couldn't help but want a steamier appetizer.
ao3
TAGS: Explicit Language, Established Relationship, Pussyjob, Vaginal Sex, Quickie, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Pet Names
You let out a sigh as you make yourself comfortable on the bed, legs spread open like a treat for Wriothesley to enjoy. The way your panties were glued to your folds, already sloppy wet from the heated kisses you and your lover shared, was nothing less than scandalous. The soaked scrap of lace did little to hide your goods, your puffy pussy lips tempting Wriothesley with each teasing roll of your hips.
The obscene tent in his pants, together with his laboured breaths, only encouraged you to act as depraved as possible, teasing fingers slipping between your lips to rub your throbbing clit. Your breath hitched, shuddering at the sensation of the rough material getting rubbed on your sensitive spot.
"My love," you purred, teasingly pulling the flimsy lace to the side to let him take a peek of your twitching hole, "touch me already."
And as if your worlds weren't enough — as if you weren't driving him insane enough — you rolled your hips, humping the air with a desperation that had Wriothesley groaning. Even with your half-lidded eyes you managed to catch his traitorous hand, which squeezed the bulge in his pants.
"We have to go, sweets..." Wriothesley sighed, even if his words sounded closer to a pained whine. His fingers were playing with the fly of his trousers, like a last fight to maintain some sort of control. Not finding within yourself the desire to take pity on him, you continued caressing your folds on top of your panties, teasing your clit with your fingertips, rubbing circles over your needy hole. And Wriothesley stared, eyes eating you up like a starving man in front of a delicious meal. He took a deep gulp, his lips still shining with the remains of your sloppy make-out session.
Utterly undignified when compared to the original plans you two had.
It all began when you walked up to Wriothesley, clad in one of the dresses he had bought you. The enamoured smile he had sent your way melted your way, truly, almost making you feel guilty for the absolute filth that was clouding your mind.
Almost.
You two had been invited to a dinner hosted by none other than the lovely Navia, with chef Escoffier being none other than the special guest. Your eyes had sparkled upon receiving the invite, already picturing the absolute pleasure of tasting Escoffier's specialties. However, while getting ready you had started feeling... famished for something else entirely — Wriothesley's own fault for looking so handsome while trying on a more formal attire! The sweet set of lingerie you had slipped on did nothing to calm you down.
So the torturous teasing began, with you pulling Wriothesley to the bed with promises of «being quick».
"Wriothesley, please," you rocked your hips, in hopes of making him snap. "You are being cruel. Don't you want to please your wife?"
You were pouting — pouting! Wriothesley would have laughed on another occasion, when perhaps he wasn't sporting an erection.
"Me? Cruel?" Wriothesley smiled, not that it reached his eyes; in fact, he looked more desperate than anything else. "You are the one being cruel, sweetheart. Making me– oh, making me like this," he continued, finally freeing his hardened cock. The tip was leaking pre-cum, dripping all over himself.
He cursed under his breath, aware that he was going to need to change attire. And, really, you should have been feeling bad about it but all it did was to make your needy pussy twitch more desperately.
"Your fault," you mumbled and finally pressed the leaky tip of his length against your clad folds. Wriothesley groaned at the feeling of the messy lace, rough and yet so damn wet. It made his cock jump, hips stuttering to try and grind against you.
"F-finally." You closed your eyes, mouth parted to let out the prettiest of sighs. It wasn't nearly enough to get you off but it was still something, like oxygen that made the fire within you grow stronger.
Wriothesley found a rhythm, rubbing the throbbing tip over and over against your pussy.
"Everyone is gonna question us," he managed to whisper between pants and groans, eyes glued to the mess he was making out of your panties, the flimsy lace getting absolutely ruined from the mix of your dripping arousal and the thick rolls of his pre-cum. It was a sight that had Wriothesley licking his lips, hips humping you way quicker.
"You are making such a mess, princess, ah." His eyes fell shut, his senses focused on the needy way you began rocking against him, as if craving more and more. "Can't even fuck you properly now, just making me hump you like a beast," his fingers grasped his cock and squeezed his frenulum, while he used his free hand to pull your panties to the side, exposing your drenched pussy to his eyes.
You whined, hole squeezing around nothing.
"This pretty girl here is starving, isn't she?" Wriothesley questioned with a lopsided smile. He slapped his cock against your folds a few times, breathlessly laughing at the pretty squelching noises. You dumbly nodded your head, lips pursed in pure need. You even arched your back, just to press yourself harder against his pulsing cock. Thankfully you didn't have to wait too long since Wriothesley, in the crazed state he was, couldn't hold himself back.
Not too much, anyway.
He started by sliding his length between your folds, and the way his tip caught your clit made you gasp each time. Your thighs twitched at his sides, your entire body surrendering to his. The way he furiously slid up and down your pussy, gliding from your twitchy hole to your pulsing clit, had you mumbling his name in a mantra between soft gasps. Then you felt his tip slip inside, an action that was nothing more of an accident. And yet, Wriothesley threw his head back and grunted, especially at the loud, whiny moan that you let out. Your pussy pulsed around his fat tip, suckling him with a desperation that almost brought tears to his eyes.
It took him all of his mental strength to pull away, resuming the torturous slide of his cock between your folds. When you cried out in frustration, Wriothesley answered by giving a slap to your thigh.
"If you want something then speak," he puffed out, focusing on rubbing himself over your clit. At that point you were positively gone, feverishly mumbling incoherent things. So Wriothesley slapped your other thigh, forcing you to focus back on him.
"So? You better... tell me what you want," Wriothesley whispered, this time tapping his leaky tip against your ravenous hole. "We don't have all day, I might walk away if you don't speak now."
Sobbing out little pleas, you shook your head. Oh you were definitely going to be late but the need to get off — to feel all of him — overcame all your senses. So you ended up clawing at his forearms, fat tears of pure need rolling down your cheeks and messing up the makeup you had worked on for hours, "inside, inside– please, ah, inside...!"
Wriothesley didn't let you finish, not when his sanity snapped. With a rough grunt, he pushed inside, his body furiously snapping against yours with a pace that bordered on desperate. He didn't bother pulling away your ruined panties, opting for keeping it out of the way with his hand, the material getting stretched. At some point a growing rip-rip could be heard from the poor lace getting torn, shredded to complete uselessness.
Little did it matter though, Wriothesley was going to buy you more sets.
His thumb easily glided over your clit, rolling it in circles while the pace of his thrusts grew rougher. You were hiccuping his name, fingers sunk into the meat of his arms. With how worked up you were, it didn't take much for you to cream around his cock, not when he was pounding that little spot that had your back arch. Your walls were squeezing him just right, your arousal dripping along his length 'till it left his skin shiny from it. It was with a low moan of your name that Wriothesley bottomed out, pushing himself all the way himself to spill his seed.
He rode both of your highs with stuttering thrusts, while dropping his head on your shoulder. The shaky breath he let out tickled you, making you squirm.
"I need to change my clothes," suddenly Wriothesley sighed, more to himself as an encouragement to get moving. Despite that, even when he forced himself to pull out, his eyes flickered down to the mess he made out of you, as if hypnotized by the sight of the gooey liquid threatening to drip out of your hole. Wriothesley snapped out of it simply because you squeezed your thighs shut, in what was an attempt to keep his seed inside.
That alone made his spent cock traitorously twitch.
"You are going to be the death of me," Wriothesley said with a weak shake of his head. You giggled, satisfied with the outcome of the little number you pulled on him. The distant ticking of the clock was the one to remind you two of the necessity to leave as soon as possible. Wriothesley was the first one to get up, while you remained in bed to catch your breath. However, your lover couldn't help but stop right by your side, answering your questioning eyes with a quick kiss on your lips. Moments later you felt him pull you up in his arms, his smiling face greeting you from up close.
"Let's go get ready now. And seriously this time," he said and kissed you once more, savouring the way you melted against his — tasting the lingering traces of happiness in your smile.
being on tumblr is just so cozy... you know what i mean? instagram and twitter are all flashy and loud but tumblr is as cozy as my bedroom with scented candles on a cold November night
wriothesley with a very lively kitten on the brain rn...he's brushing his teeth and getting ready for the day holding the little one cradled against his chest with one arm because if he doesn't the kitten won't stop yelling at him..he's trying to focus on his paperwork while the kitten got zoomies and is wreaking havoc all over his office...there's cat toys scattered all over the floor..when it finally calms down and gets tired of playing it gets surprisingly sweet and curls up in his lap or on his chest if he's laying down on the couch to take a nap..he loves every second of it<33
