begging u to write more telemachus smut hes so cutie i love him sm ,,, (I LOVE UR WRITING SM)
Forgive you? Already did.
A/N : Oh. My. Gosh. I love Telemachus so much. I imagined him in Ximena’s design while writing this. HE’S SUCH A CUTIE THERE OMG AND HIS MUSCLES? Okay I’m gonna shut up now and let you enjoy this… which I hope you do cuz this is the worst thing I have ever written.
WARNING : Smut, Fem!Reader. Smut with no plot, fluff, slight angst(?), Reader and Telemachus got into an argument.
Word Count : 1.8k
The slam of the door still echoed in your ears, a harsh punctuation mark at the end of your heated exchange with Telemachus. Each of his sharp words replayed in your mind, twisting and turning like a knife in a fresh wound. You paced the length of your room, the familiar tapestries and scattered scrolls offering no comfort. The injustice of the argument gnawed at you. You'd both been under immense pressure, navigating the strange new world you found yourselves in, the weight of destiny heavy on Telemachus' young shoulders. Yet, somehow, that pressure had erupted, and you were left feeling misunderstood and bristling with a hurt you hadn't anticipated.
Finally, exhaustion forced you to sink onto the edge of your bed, the roughspun fabric scratching against your skin. The light outside shifted, painting the sky in hues of bruised purple and fading orange. The silence in your room was thick, heavy with unspoken words and lingering frustration. You stared out the window, the intricate network of the city lights blurring through the unshed tears that pricked at your eyes. You missed the easy camaraderie you usually shared with Telemachus, the quick wit and shared laughter that often filled your days. This coldness between you felt alien and unwelcome.
Just as a sigh escaped your lips, a soft, hesitant knock echoed through the quiet room. Your breath hitched. Telemachus. You hadn't expected him so soon, if at all tonight. A flicker of hope warred with the lingering sting of his earlier words.
He stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, but his usual confident stance was replaced by a visible unease. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and his eyes, usually so bright with mischief and determination, held a shadow of regret. He shifted his weight, his gaze locked on the floor for a moment before finally meeting yours.
"Y/N," he began, his voice rough, laced with a vulnerability you rarely heard. "I... I've been thinking. About what happened." He stepped fully into the room, closing the door softly behind him, as if afraid to break the fragile silence. "I spoke rashly. I was... frustrated, and that's no excuse to take it out on you."
Your own anger began to ebb, replaced by a weary relief that he had come. "I wasn't exactly blameless either, Telemachus," you admitted, your voice softer than you intended. "I let my own frustrations get the better of me."
He took a step closer, his gaze searching yours, and you could see the genuine remorse etched on his face. "I value you, Y/N. More than words can say. And the thought of... of this wedge between us... it's unbearable."
He reached out a hand, his calloused fingers hovering near yours. You didn't hesitate to meet his touch, your own hand sliding into his. The simple contact sent a wave of warmth through you, melting some of the icy barrier that had formed between you. His thumb traced slow circles on the back of your hand, a familiar and comforting gesture.
"I know things are... intense right now," he murmured, his voice dropping lower, "but I don't want that intensity to spill over into how we treat each other. Especially not us."
His gaze drifted to your lips, and a spark, undeniable and potent, flared between you. The lingering tension in the room shifted, the air growing thick with a different kind of energy. The memory of the harsh words receded, replaced by the magnetic pull you always felt towards him. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.
"Can we... can we forget about the argument, just for a little while?" he whispered, his voice husky.
Your own breath hitched. The desire that had been simmering beneath the surface of your anger now surged to the forefront. You nodded, your eyes locked on his.
He closed the remaining distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine. The frantic tangle of your mouths intensified, a desperate claiming that went beyond mere kissing. You tasted the lingering bitterness of your argument mingling with the raw, underlying desire that had always simmered between you. "Telemachus," you gasped, the word torn from your throat as his teeth grazed your lower lip, a possessive mark that sent a shiver down your spine.
"Y/N," he responded, his voice a low growl against your ear, his breath hot and uneven. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me." His hands, now insistent and knowing, slid beneath your tunic, the rough fabric a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his touch as he cupped the weight of your breast. His gaze lingered, a spark of pure desire igniting in his dark eyes before his lips followed, leaving a trail of fire down your throat to the soft curve of your collarbone. You arched against him, a soft moan escaping your lips as his mouth closed over a sensitive peak, his tongue teasing and swirling, sending shivers of pleasure through you.
"I do," you whispered fiercely, your own hands clutching at his shoulders, the muscles beneath your fingertips taut with tension and need. "More than anything. Make me forget everything else." You fumbled with the fastenings of his own tunic, eager to feel his skin against yours. The roughspun fabric gave way, and you reveled in the feel of his warm chest beneath your hands, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm against your palm. You tangled your fingers in the short hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as his mouth trailed lower, his breath hot against your skin.
He lifted you, carrying you effortlessly to the bed, the sudden shift in position heightening the anticipation that thrummed between you. As he laid you down, his gaze never left yours, a silent promise of the pleasure to come. He followed you onto the mattress, his body pressing against yours, the hard planes of his chest and thighs a delicious weight.
His kisses grew deeper, more demanding, each touch igniting a fresh wave of sensation. His hand slid lower, tracing the curve of your hip, dipping beneath the edge of your remaining garment to explore the sensitive skin there. You gasped as his fingers found their mark, a pleasurable ache blooming deep within you.
"Y/N," he groaned, his voice thick with desire, nipping gently at your lower lip before claiming your mouth again. His hands, no longer hesitant, roamed with a confident familiarity over your curves. "Gods, I've missed this," he murmured against your skin as he cupped the swell of your breast.
"And I, you," you whispered, your own hands mirroring his exploration, tracing the hard muscles of his shoulders and back. "Don't ever... don't ever let us fight like that again."
He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes blazing into yours. "Never," he vowed, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. "It tears me apart." He then dipped his head, his lips leaving a trail of fire down your throat. "You feel so good," he groaned, his breath hot against your collarbone.
You shifted beneath him, your own hands exploring his body with equal fervor. You traced the line of his jaw, the curve of his ear, the strong column of his neck. You reveled in the feel of his taut muscles, the way he shuddered beneath your touch. His body pressed against yours. "Forgive me?" he murmured, his lips nuzzling your ear.
"Already have," you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer for a deep, searching kiss. "Just… show me how sorry you are."
He obliged, his lips leaving yours to blaze a trail down your throat, each kiss a searing brand. "This is what I want," he murmured against the frantic pulse at your neck. "You. Just you."
You choked out a moan, your breath catching in your throat. "Gods, yes. Don't stop." You arched against his touch, offering yourself more fully to his touch. He moved between your legs, his gaze locking with yours, a silent question passing between you. You answered with a soft sigh and a slight parting of your thighs, an invitation he readily accepted.
As he pressed against your entrance, a gasp escaped your lips, a mixture of anticipation and a primal ache. "Are you ready for me?" he rasped, his breath hot against your thigh.
"Yes," you cried out, your hips lifting to meet his. "Please, Telemachus. Now."
The first slow slide was electric, a searing connection that stole your breath. You cried out, your body arching off the bed as he filled you completely. "Oh, gods," you choked out, clinging to his shoulders.
"So good. So tight." He remained still for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the intimacy, his eyes locked on yours, his expression a mixture of possessiveness and pure pleasure. "Does it feel right?" he finally managed, his voice strained.
"Perfect," you whispered, your nails digging into his back. "Don't wait."
He began to move, each thrust deeper and more insistent than the last. Your bodies slapped together, the rhythmic sound echoing in the small room, punctuated by your ragged breaths and soft moans. "Say my name," he urged, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements.
"Telemachus," you cried out, your head thrashing against the pillow. "Oh, Telemachus, yes. Harder."
He obliged, his pace quickening, the intensity building with each stroke. "You're driving me mad," he groaned, his teeth gritting. "So hot. So wet."
You gasped, your senses reeling, the world narrowing to the feel of his cock inside you. "Don't stop… I'm so close."
"So am I," he rasped, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. "Hold on to me, Y/N."
And then the world shattered into a kaleidoscope of sensation. Your cries mingled with his guttural roar as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, your bodies convulsing in unison. You clung to each other, every muscle in your body clenched tight, the intensity almost unbearable, yet exquisitely so.
Slowly, the tremors subsided, leaving you both breathless and slick with sweat. He collapsed against you, his weight a comforting anchor. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of damp kisses. "Mine," he murmured possessively. "You're mine."
You tightened your embrace, your fingers stroking the damp hair at his nape. "Always," you whispered back, the word a silent promise in the quiet aftermath. "Always."
Later, as the first rays of dawn peeked through your window, you lay tangled together, the remnants of your passionate reconciliation scattered around the room. The silence was comfortable now, filled with the soft rhythm of your breathing and the occasional contented sigh. Telemachus held you close, his arm a warm weight across your waist, his lips pressed softly against your hair. The argument felt distant, a storm that had passed, leaving behind a renewed sense of closeness and understanding. In the quiet aftermath, you knew that even amidst the chaos of your lives, the bond you shared was a constant, a fiery anchor that could weather any storm.
antinous isn’t the type of guy to go all out. in public, that is. he’ll hold your hand and kiss it, only slight pda to make a man trying to get to you jealous. he claims you as his own, and loves you in his own ways. they might not be too perfect, but he tries his best. in private? he’s a whole different person. he loves to give you attention when you two are alone. he loves cuddles, being the big spoon, and making out. (top three in his case)
smut/heavier things
he loves your tits, using them as a pillow, talking to them, etc. during sex, he will not hold back. bad day? expect not being able to walk. good day? same thing. he’s into anything that’ll make you and him feel good, he knows all positions, everything you like, and probably memorized the spot.
tits, ass, or pussy?
definitely tits, maybe pussy, prolly ass.
this man cherishes your body like it’s the a gift from the gods.
