Loyalty To The Raging Tempest

For You Always

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (kind of lol)

Summary: you always knew Aemond had a soft spot for you, but you always just assumed it was him wanting to look out for his brother’s wife. Soon you find out that his devotion knows no bounds

Warnings: allusions of sexual assault

A/N: I was inspired by the dynamic between Alicent and Larys (and her and Criston). That dynamic is probably the most interesting to me to watch (plus when Olivia and Matthew are together in scenes it’s like a masterclass in acting. Might be my fav two actors on the show rn). I also just love the idea of Aemond being someone’s guard dog. I plan on writing things from this list. And plan on doing things with a black reader :). But I got inspired and it flowed very easily so I wanted to get it out. I am open to request as well! Please reblog, like, and follow if you enjoy 🫶🏽🫶🏽

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In hindsight, confessing your sadness to Aemond after the incident was a bad idea. But in your defense, it wasn’t intentional. You found yourself crying, trying to make it back to your chambers before anyone spotted you in distress. And there he was.

Whispers was something you had grown used to since arriving in King’s Landing years ago. Whispers about your family back home, whispers about your life now… including whispers about your relationship with Aegon. Most of the time it would roll off your back. Mainly because the rumors themselves were never true. It’s easy to brush it off when there’s no validity.

It wasn’t until one day you overheard two lady’s maids speaking about your husband. Certain words stuck out. Dyana, crying, Aegon, paid off, and moon tea.

You felt sick, physically ill hearing them talk. You had always wondered what happened to Dyana; lamenting on how good she was with Elia, your daughter. When asked if he knew why she was not around anymore, all Aegon gave you was a shrug before changing the subject. But now you understand why. Deep down you knew Aegon was not a good man, but you naively hoped he had changed after the birth of your daughter. His behavior was always questionable, but this was a new low. You wish you could let this roll off your back like the rest. No use in chalking it up to a rumor; you know Aegon too well for that.

You couldn’t help the tears from falling as you turned away. The walk to your chamber felt like forever. Mind racing; you thought about poor Dyana and where she was now, who knew about this, and selfishly you thought about if people thought you knew all along. That you brushed it off because that is what is expected of a lady in your position. Smile and endure. Ignore and push through.

That people thought you were just as cruel as your husband.

It was the tears on your face that made Aemond stop in his tracks. You tried to wipe them away quickly after you spotted him but it was too late. He all but forces you to tell him why you’re in this state. It wasn’t becoming of your station to be crying in the arms of your lord husband’s brother. But there you were in your room, pouring your heart out.

Aemond had always been good to you. His generosity was not something you were expecting when you came into the family. Everyone had responded the way you predicted. Helena was sweet. Queen Alicent seemed indifferent; not exactly warm, but always there if you needed something. The sicker King Viserys grew, the less you saw him. Aegon was doting when he wanted you, awful when he didn’t. Aemond was the odd one out. Completely shocking you with the concern he shows. You had made up in your mind it stemmed from his hatred for Aegon.

That day, Aemond simply rubbed your back and told you he’d handle anything else that happened with Aegon. It must’ve been your frazzled state that led to you taking that comment as sweet rather than ominous.

Silly you.

It felt like the whispers and rumors only got worse after finding out about what happened to Dyana. By the time you had worked up the courage to confront Aegon, another indiscretion made it back to you.

It seems that your husband has an affinity for servants and ladies in waiting. If rumors are true, at least this one is consensual. The name of a servant you know helps Helaena continues to get bandied about.

You can’t help but feel embarrassment and rage flood through your body. He’s one the princes of the storied Targaryen family, a future king if things go the way certain people in the Red Keep want them to. And here he is, not only abusing his power but making a mockery of you in the process.

A part of you wonders if you should go to Alicent. You decide against it; you know how the game is played. No matter how much she may resent his behavior, he will always take precedent over you. Then you think about going to Helaena, but you hated the idea of troubling her with your mess. So there you were, at Aemond’s door with a rant on the tip of your tongue.

It was nice. Getting your feelings out to someone who shared your complicated feelings towards Aegon.

Aemond rarely responds or gives you advice. Just gave you an chance to let it all out, which is something you appreciated. You left his quarters feeling a bit lighter. As light as you could feel with the position you are in.

You spent the rest of the week trying to avoid talking to Aegon, and spend time with Elia and with Helaena.

“A flower can wilt under love, the same way it wilts under detestation.”

Helaena’s cryptic language was something you had learned to just go with. Though, you did get an eerie feeling after she said it to you with a concerned look on her kind face.

You tried to push the hurt feelings away, and almost succeeded. Until your lady in waiting came to you one night with a nervous look on her face. Reluctantly, she told you news that she had heard.

You couldn’t hold it any longer the next time you saw Aegon. When the conversation started, you were surprised to hear him speak so openly about his cheating. You had just always expected him to act like the whole castle isn’t talking about it.

“What do you mean you told her she could be your second wife,” you hiss at him, trying to keep your voice low.

He winced and looks down at his feet.

“I don’t even remember saying it myself,” he says meekly. “But she surely remembers it. Won’t let me forget it.”

You scoff, and take good look at him. You think about how your mother’s vision for you, and your own blind ambition has landed you stuck with the biggest idiot ever.

“So let me get this straight,” you walked towards him. “You spend your days drowning yourself in your cups, and disrespecting half of the women in the Red Keep. And now you tell me you’re whispering sweet nothings into her ears so she keeps stroking your ego.. amongst other things. Some couple you two make. You’re stupid enough to say that, and she’s delusional enough to believe you.”

“My lov-“ you hold up hand to stop him.

“You will fix this,” your finger hits his chest. “I can’t even stand to look at you right now.”

You leave the room in a hurry, ignoring his tries to stop you. Where you are going at this hour? You have no idea, but you can’t be in the same rom as Aegon right now. But then you get an idea… the dragon pit.

Vhagar can’t fit in pit but whenever Aemond wants to ride her, he goes there.

You feel a bit silly, going to him to whine about how awful his brother is. But when you find him walking from the pit, the words and emotions just flowed out. Honestly for someone so outwardly cold, Aemond handles you so gently.

“To do that, and right in front of you is an insult.”

You nod in agreement because it is. It shows how much he doesn’t care. How much you carry your relationship with him.

“And the most frustrating part is that I just have to live with it,” you think about Elia, and the pressure there is to have another baby, a boy. “I have to not only face Aegon, but apparently the woman who he chooses lay with. I have to hear the whispers not about him being a disgrace. But about me being so frigid that of course he’d seek warmth from another.”

You run your hands down your face.

“What has my life become?”

Aemond doesn’t reply, just gives you an inquisitive look before nodding to himself. He walks you back to the room.

“Everything will be fine. Trust me,” his tone is so certain. You want to be ask how does he know, but you guess that’s what any person says when they’re comforting someone else.

You take a deep breath. Everything will be fine.

The day felt different. You don’t know why. You went through you typical schedule, most of which revolves around caring for Elia. Despite the off feeling you couldn’t quite put a finger on, the day was reflectively uneventful… until Queen Alicent comes to visit you.

She smiles as she holds Elia.

“How are you my dear,” her voice is soft and measured. The question is simple but it makes you uneasy. If things have made it back to you, they’ve surely made it back to her.

“I’m doing well your Grace,” you put on your best face. “Just a little tired.”

She hums in response.

“That’s good to hear,” she steps closer to you, lowering her voice. “I’m glad you were able to take care of any problems that may have arose.”

You blink at her. She’s clearly talking about Aegon and the servant. You did tell Aegon to fix it, but the quickness is surprising. Plus you assumed he’d come whining to you about it after he had ended things.

“I’m glad to know you can take care of things on your own.” she continues, and your confusion grows.

Didn’t know you had it in you? Take care of things? You truly do not understand what the Queen is saying. Before you can get into it, Ser Arryk knocks saying the King needs Alicent. After she leaves, you hand Elia to your lady in waiting.

You must go to Helaena.

You find her in her chambers, embroidery hoop in hand. The bright smile she greets you with drops when yo ask about her lady in waiting.

“A flower can wilt under love, the same way it wilts under detestation.”

Her voice is somber, and you let out a deep sigh. Who is the flower? She clearly knows something but you wonder if even she can even figure it out herself. There’s no way you can go one of your girls, you’d be tipping your hand. And Aegon never seems to be around when you need him. Then it hits you.

I’ll handle it

Everything will be ok, trust me

It couldn’t be. You try to talk yourself out of the idea races into your mind as you walk to Aemond’s room. You squeeze your eyes shut as you knock on the door. The aloofness of his demeanor only makes you more anxious.

“I don’t even know how to ask this,” you give him a tight, nervous smile once he lets you in. “Or that you would even know the answer.”

He’s sitting in a chair, and tilts his head to the side. You pause for a moment. Collecting your thought; the last thing you want to do is accuse him of something.

“She’s gone,” he replied after silence passes through the room. He sounds bored of the careful dance you’re trying to play.

It’s vague. Gone could mean a lot of things. It could mean Aegon did something right for once, but then again how would Aemond know that before you. You didn’t want her to lose her job. You just wanted the record set straight, and selfishly you didn’t want people questioning your marriage.

“What did you do,” you whisper, suddenly getting worried.

“I did what Aegon will never have the courage to do,” he stands up, and starts walking towards you. “I protected you.”

“Aemond what do-“

“You don’t have to worry about her anymore,” he interrupts you. “We took care of it.”

Your stomach sinks. We took care of it. There’s only one person.. no one thing Aemond could be talking about. Aemond on his own is intimating enough

“I didn’t want her dead,” you look at him with wide eyes.

He doesn’t seem phased by your panic. In fact he gives you a smile, or at least closest thing Aemond does to a smile.

“My future queen wanted something done, so I did it,” he says it as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.

He thinks of you as his future queen, you’ve known that for a while. Everything starts and ends with you in his eyes. Any threat to you is a threat to him. You had grown to understand Aemond’s intensity, but this is a lot even for him. The look in his eye makes you know this won’t be a one time thing. That he’s going to go to these lengths whether you like it or not. Haelena’s words ring in your head.

A flower can wilt under love, the same way it wilts under detestation

Yandere Creep! Scara who sets up cameras in your bedroom…

While checking the live footage one night, he finally gets to see you masturbating, so ofc like the gross perv he is, he excitingly takes this chance to jerk off….but something catches him off guard and has him pause his movement? Did you say something? He’ll need to replay that..

Did you just moan his name?

This took way longer then it should have, even though it’s short 💀

God knows how he snuck in to place them, or how small they’d have to be so you don’t notice,— probably climbed into your window when he knew you would be out for a decent amount of time, and hid very small cameras behind your shelves and ornaments— as well as making sure he got just the absolute perfect placement where he had access to view every single angle of you.

The first few nights that he has the live footage of your room pulled up on his computer are slow— you’re just doing ordinary stuff like studying at your desk for hours, or leaning up against your bed frame while you scroll through your phone. Repetitive activity that anyone would yawn at, but not him. Not Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who stares at your every movement through the screen with a small and content smile on his face. How he’d sit at his desk for hours, with the only time he’d look away being to rub the blur out of his eyes and to use the restroom.

You’re just so fucking adorable without even knowing it, he thinks. Every time you get up and walk out of the room to grab or do something, his eyes are carefully following your figure like a hawk— praying that you hurry up and come back into frame where he could see you, because he didn’t have enough cameras to put around your whole house. God, he just gets so excited watching you that he can’t help but let’s his hands wander down into his pants and start jerking off the boner you unknowingly had caused him.

How he’d grip his nails into the arm of his chair in desperation and thrust his hips up to counter the pace of his hand, throwing his head back and sobbing out your name in lots of pathetic, shallow whimpers when he squirts his load of cum all over his keyboard. His breath is inconsistent as he rides out his emotive orgasm, face flushed into a deep shade of vermillion with beads of sweat trickling down from his forehead to his neck. But not once. Not once do his eyes leave you as you sit quietly at your desk, with a towel wrapped snugly around your body and drops of water occasionally rolling down your glowing skin.

He bet you smelled like heaven its damn self, and he wanted nothing more then to be sitting beside you and stuffing his face into the crease of your neck to breath in your heavenly aroma— but sitting behind a screen and watching you from behind a camera was enough for him, for now. Scaramouche slightly adjusts in his chair and watches in anticipation as you stand up from your own seat and stalk over towards your bed, stopping right in front of the edge of it.

His slight curiosity quickly morphs into full faced shock when your hand reaches up to your towel to slowly untie it— and he physically feels his breath stop as the material almost elegantly falls from your body and dropping to the floor under your feet. He’s stunned, eyes blown wide and with each second that passes, he can feel how his heart rate quickly increases by the beat. “Oh… my fu— fucking god.” He staggers, his cock physically twitching in to the palm of his hand. You’re naked,

Jaw slacked, Scaramouche— who’s still in his state of shock, stares so intently as your ass allures him in almost teasingly when it sways side to side as you crawl into the middle of your bed, and lay back comfortably onto the mattress. Perfect, you looked absolutely perfect as your hands trailed down your skin and towards your— your… wait a minute, are you about to do what he think you’re about to do? He leans in so close where his head is almost touching his monitor, his hands planting on the desk surface to keep him from toppling over out of excitement— and trying so hard not to blink until you finally…

Finally bring your hand down to your thighs and spread them apart ever so slightly so your fingers can slip in between and access your pussy. He moans, a full fledged moan falls from his lips when you start teasing your cute little clit with your fingers. “Fuck, fuck, no fucking way—” is this real? Finally, what he’s been waiting for this entire time, for you to finally (and unknowingly) show him that filthy side you’ve been hiding away.

His hands are quick to reach back down to his cock, before he quickly starts to masturbate again— this time however, he has something to look at while he does so. His hand is moving at an almost inhumane speed up and down his shaft, and he knows that if you keep it up— toying with your cunt and laying so erotic looking on your bed— he won’t last for much longer.

God you sounded so fucking cute too. When you’d let out little whimpers as you slowly start to insert a finger inside your hole, Scaramouche is grunting out your name and pretending you’re making those sounds right next to his ear while he fucks into you. How you’d let out small whines and use your free hand to play with your nipples, his tongue flops out of his mouth and glides over his bottom lips to imagine he were the one doing it. The whole sight of you touching your self just has him so hot and heavy that he can’t help but grip onto his cock harder then normal and tug at it like it was going to run away.

Just as Scaramouche is about to cum, as he’s hunched so far forward and sobbing out your name in a broken tone— he hears a static sound from the audio of the camera, before your cute little voice enters his ears again. He has to pause, the rapid movement of his hand stops along the shaft of his cock as well. What was that? Was he hearing things, or did you really just—

“Mmhm— Scara!”

Oh, wow.

“Ah…” it takes a while to register, his brain racking for an answer before it finally clicks. You just… moaned his name… while you’re playing with your pretty cunt with those pretty little fingers, thinking about him. Only him, no one else. “Oh… my fucking fuck!”

Yeah… Scaramouche has never cum so hard in his life before.

Also rushed to see if he was screen recording or not. Imagine his anger if he wasn’t l m a o 💀

in your dreams | m.

pairing: xiao/f!reader

wc: 7.140

genre: smut, hurt/comfort

cw: exes to lovers

tags: past toxic relationship, alluded past abuse, blood and violence, xiaos love language is touch, soft!xiao, dom!xiao, fingering, squirting, wet&messy, spitting (lit once), reassurance kink, very mild dumbification, dacryphilia if u squint, aftercare

summary: your life had finally become normal without him. but it took one encounter to undo a millennia of hard work.

note: it isn't specified what reader is but she is not human and is very old as well as she's known xiao for a long, long time.

+ also adepti do not need sleep in this fic so!!!

this blog is a dark content blog please dni if you don't like it.

Winding up at Wangshu Inn wasn’t in your plans. Tired and worn out, a sudden thunderstorm was the final straw.

You climbed the steps of the Inn, out of breath by the time you reached the front desk. Your room was cozy for the most part, so much so that you felt out of place soaking wet and dripping onto the wooden floors.

You didn’t even have a change of clothes. You opted to shed your outermost layers, the thick material having kept your undergarments dry for the most part. Hanging up your soaking clothes, you place a towel on the floor to catch the dripping water and climb into bed.

The sound of thunder and rain lulled you into a restless nap to pass the time.

It wasn’t often that you dreamt. In fact, many years had passed since you recall dreaming. This one was particularly vivid. Featuring a face you had hoped to never see again.

The golden eyes of your ex lover sent shivers down your spine. The wind blew, tousling his hair every which way. He stared at you, regarding you with the same neutral face you’d known him to wear for all of his existence.

Still as cold as ever, he didn’t speak.

Just as you opened your mouth to say something first, you jolt awake.

You frown and sit up in bed, the sheets falling around your waist haphazardly. Running a hand through your hair, you wince as your fingers catch the tangles.

“I see you still enjoy sleeping...like some kind of human,” the familiar voice has you gasping, whipping around to look at where the voice came from.

He leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are closed, almost as if he were tired but you know that’s not the case.

You scoff, “I knew you were here. Awfully bold of you...sneaking into my dream like that.”

He doesn’t say anything more. It’s silent after that, save or the lightning striking the ground occasionally, mixed with the white noise of raindrops.

“Why are you here Xiao?” you finally ask, knowing that beating around the bush will get you nowhere with him.

“Why are you here?” he retorts, finally opening his eyes to glare at you, “You knew I was staying in this Inn yet you come here anyway. But you still have the audacity to ask me why I’m here?”

“I didn’t know you were staying here,” you spit, suddenly remembering you’re in only your bra and panties. You casually pull the sheet back up to cover yourself.

“That’s a lie,” he scoffs, finally pushing himself away from the wall, “Are you that desperate for my attention that you come crawling back to me under the guise of a mistake in hopes I’ll take you back? Pathetic.”

His words sting just as much as the tears filling your eyes, “No,” you spit, tossing the sheet off so you could get out of bed, “I was worn out and got caught in the storm. If you must know, I didn’t know you were here because frankly I avoid learning anything about your whereabouts!”

His eyes follow you as you tug your still wet clothing down from where it was hanging. Its freezing cold against your warm skin and makes you flinch as you begin to put it on.

“Where are you going?” he asks, voice sharp as ever.

“I’m leaving!” you snap, ignoring the way your voice cracks from your tears.

He scoffs, “Of course you are, all you do is run away.”

“You don’t get to say that to me!” you whip around suddenly, “When you’re the one who ran away in the first place!”

He bares his teeth, “I didn’t run from anything. Instead I got rid of something.”

His eyes narrow and you take a moment to look into them. Eyes you once loved held no softness or light that they once had. You barely remember those times, instead all you remember is the hurt.

You don’t have it in you to speak anymore. Everything that needed to be said had already been spoken. Whether it be now or in the past, there was nothing else to say.

He didn’t flinch as you walked past him, shoulder bumping into him as you headed to the door.

“Make sure you don’t come back here,” he spits the final, parting warning.

You pick up your pack and sling it over your shoulder, opening the door and leaving.

When you’re finally gone, he takes a seat on the bed and sighs, eyes unfocused as they stared into nothing. Lost in thought, he doesn’t know how long he sits there for.

The rain doesn’t show any signs of letting up as you continue on your journey. You don’t have any real need for sleep but your body feels worn, overexerted. You do your best to bypass monsters that lurk around, knowing you don’t have the strength to defend yourself.

Any strength you had had been stripped from you the moment you were confronted with Xiao.

His words hurt just as much as they had a millenia ago. The new, negative feelings festered along with the brought up memories of once upon a time.

He always knew just what to say to you. The two of you had known each other perhaps too well. It had allowed him to see every weak spot you had, he had learned exactly what to push to hurt you most. And he always succeeded.

Xiao’s past was not one that was happy. It was filled with pain, anger, and bloodshed. Much of it by his own hands, actions that haunted him. He had been so consumed by it all that he lost control, becoming a volatile nightmare that only sought to hurt and destroy.

And that is exactly what he did.

There hadn’t been a single ounce of hesitation in the words he’d spewed at you. Hands you once loved holding raised in aggression, laughing at the misery that had been painted on your face. You had been scared of him and yet he didn’t show any regret.

It had been naive of you to try to get him back at first. You were so sure that it wasn’t the real Xiao. You knew him to be a soft, gentle man. But in the blink of an eye, it was replaced with hatred and darkness.

Your attempts to redeem yourself in his eyes, to keep him by your side had been in vain. The final time you had met him, almost a millenia ago, had only ended in bloodshed and tears. He had succeeded in damaging everything you had to offer, dealing irreparable damage to your emotions.

You had vowed that you would never allow yourself to be in his presence again. You didn’t even allow yourself to hear his name, all of his tales fell on deaf ears.

The less you knew about him, the better.

It had been peaceful, not knowing of his whereabouts. You would sometimes catch yourself wondering if he was even still alive before vanquishing those thoughts. What did it matter? The man wished death upon you once, laughing all the while.

You shuddered at the memories, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. The cold was seeping in quickly and you felt like all your energy was sucked out.

Under the heavy rainfall, and the absentmindedness of your own thoughts, you didn’t realize the man snuck up on you until you felt the knife plunge into your back.

Hands desperately cupped your cheeks. They were warm, such a contrast to your own cold skin. Your ears were ringing but when your eyes opened a fraction, you could only barely make out the darkened silhouette of a person hovering above you.

When your eyes opened once again, there was no sound. The storm had passed and you were tucked into a bed. It didn’t smell like freshly made laundry, instead it smelled familiar. Like almonds and qingxin flowers. You couldn’t help but melt into it.

After a moment, you heard the door open. It clicked shut softly, no doubt in an effort to let you continue your rest. The figure moved across the floor, footsteps light before you heard the light sound of something heavy being placed on the side table.

The person paused and you kept your eyes closed, sleep almost overcoming you once again. But the soft feeling of fingers on your cheek had you rousing once more.

You didn’t open your eyes, instead allowed the stranger to continue on. They moved away but didn’t leave the room.

Slowly, you opened your eyes.

It was dark out but the room was dimly lit by lanterns, casting a calm, yellow glow around the room. You blinked a few times to let your eyes adjust before looking around.

Your breath caught in your chest as you looked at him. He had his back to you, leaning against the wall once again. But his gaze was cast out the window, unaware of the fact you had awoken. You swallowed nervously at the sight of him, only to realize how parched you were, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Glancing to the side, you realized the object he had placed had been a pitcher of water. Condensation dripped down from the glass, pooling on the wooden tabletop.

You attempted to sit up, your head swimming as you did but you fought it. The bed creaked as you finally sat up, almost desperately reaching for the pitcher only to realize you had absolutely no strength to pick it up.

Familiar hands intervened, brushing yours away to lift the pitcher up, grabbing the glass he had brought along with it so he could fill it.

Your hands were reaching out for it before he could even offer it. He allowed you to take it, placing the pitcher back down once again. You brought the cup to your lips and took several large gulps before it was ripped from your hands. You gasped and looked up at Xiao to your stolen cup in his hand.

“Drink it slowly,” he orders, rough as usual, “You’ll make yourself feel worse.”

You nod your head and reach out for it again. He keeps it out of your reach, however, eyeing you as if you were plotting something. You whine and attempt to get it back once more before he finally takes pity on you and allows you to have it back.

His eyes burn into you as you take sips, keeping them slow and intermittent despite the fact your body begged for you to down it all.

“Lay back down, you’re still recovering,” he says before taking your empty glass.

You do as you’re told, hunkering back down into the soft bedding, watching him once again. He pours more water into the glass and leaves it there for you to take when you need it.

“Why am I back here?” your question makes him visibly stiffen as he places the pitcher down again.

Your eyes follow him as he moves around. You can’t tell if he’s making himself look busy to buy himself time or not. The question is answered when he returns from the wash room with a damp cloth.

He sits at the edge of the bed and begins to softly pat at your skin, cooling your skin down and making you relax. You close your eyes against the stinging burn of tears that come from his caring actions.

You don’t know what he’ll do if he realizes you’re crying.

It had been so long since you had been close to him like this. No aggressive or negative feelings weighing you both down. It had been even longer since you felt his gentle touch, a touch that didn’t have you flinching away from him.

“You almost died,” he finally says, removing himself from you.

You immediately miss him. It takes you everything not to pull him back to you, to not cry out for him not to go. But you stay silent. He is too.

You’re not sure if he realizes how close to crying you are, but he doesn’t say anything more. He doesn’t press you. You swallow the lump in your throat and open your eyes again.

He’s standing in front of the window once more. You can see his face now, the way the moonlight makes his eyes glow.

“I did?” you finally ask.

He looks at you again, a simple sideways glance before nodding, “You did.”

“I see,” you respond, looking down at your hands folded above his blanket.

You suddenly realize you’re not wearing your own clothes, instead wearing some unfamiliar ones. You don’t comment on the fact that Xiao had probably undressed you and redressed you.

You’re too busy thinking that you don’t notice the way he fists are clenched tight at his sides. His entire body is stiff and trembling, jaw clenched tight to keep the pathetic noises that want to free themselves inside.

“You almost died,” he suddenly spits, repeating his words from earlier. You pause and look up at him, the uncharacteristic emotion in his voice catching you by surprise.

Finally, you take in his disposition. His head hung low, hair veiling over his face, preventing you from seeing the expression he wore. But from the way his shoulders tremble, you’re sure he’s...crying.

“I thought you were dead,” he hisses, “You were so cold...you weren’t moving. What the hell was I supposed to do then, huh?” He’s not looking at you and you’re not sure if he’s speaking to you or monologuing. Still, you remain quiet and let him talk, “You’re not supposed to die.”

“I didn’t die,” you finally speak, making him fall silent.

“I was...scared,” he admits, so soft that you almost missed it, “I was so scared it felt like I was losing my mind.”

“Xiao…”

“No,” he snaps, finally looking at you. His eyes are glassy, tears clinging to his lashes and the sight makes your heart ache, “How could I have ever...What would I have done if you died? What if you died...and all you remember of me was...the hatred and anger?”

“Is that not what you feel towards me?” you ask softly, “I can’t say I remember the time before you hated me anymore. I don’t know if I even want to. It’s so much easier knowing you hate me now, than remembering that you once loved me.”

“Love,” he whispers, making your brows furrow in confusion, “Don’t say it like I don’t anymore.”

“Xiao…” you sigh, shaking your head, “You don’t have to feel guilty. Truly, it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

He takes a few steps towards the bed until he’s standing right in front of you. You don’t dare look at him but he reaches down and touches your cheek with gentle fingers, “Then why are you crying?”

You scoff, “Why are you crying?”

“Because I know I’m not strong enough to keep this going,” he admits, “I’ve spent so long remembering everything I did to you. Everything I said to you...years upon years of guilt and regret. I tried so hard to pretend like I didn’t search everywhere for you. When I was finally freed of those shackles, when I was finally...faced with everything I had done...I looked for you. But you had already gone.”

“You wanted me gone,” you spit, knowing how bitter you were beginning to sound, “Don’t you remember what you told me?”

“Every word,” he breathes, hand returning to your person to pet your hair, “I’ve spent every moment of my life remembering. I didn’t have any control of who I was back then, ______,” The sound of your name falling from his lips has a sob breaking free from your chest, “I’ll never be who I was before everything. I carry these sins upon me as I deserve to. But I will never be the man who hurt and scared you again.”

You feel him tug you forward, burying your face against his chest as he cups the back of your head. His chin rests atop your head and you cry. He lets you exhaust yourself, lets out a deep sigh when you finally wrap your arms around his middle.

He holds you, allows you to ask him questions before answering with a gentleness he hadn’t allowed himself in what felt like eons. He told you his story, explained every detail of his life, of the dark past, of the vile atrocities that he had been forced to commit against his will.

You listened, heart aching at the pain he had to endure for so long. He was jaded, scarred and burnt from his past. It haunted him so deeply, actions he could never atone for weighed on him as heavy burdens.

“If you’ll let me…” he whispers into your hair, “I just...if I can have one thing in the end...I want you.”

“You’ve done so much,” you reply, “To repay the debt and to protect...and you really just want me?”

“More than anything,” he replies, not hesitation.

You pull away from his embrace and he allows you, meeting your gaze with utmost sincerity. You can see it in the way his eyes shine with hope, searching yours for an answer.

The easiest way to answer him is by cupping his cheek and pressing your lips to his.His entire body relaxes and his hands return to your person, gripping you tight as if you were going to slip away. He kisses you back, every emotion he feels being poured into it.

You tangle your hands in his hair and pull him down. He catches himself on his hands, framed on either side of you. Pulling away from the kiss, you chase him and he sighs.

“You’re still recovering, I don’t want you to get hurt,” he breathes.

You whine and shake your head, reaching out to touch him, “Please, Xiao? ‘M okay, I promise.”

He still hesitates and you decide to take it a bit further to entice him. You reach down for the hem of your shirt and carefully pull it off. When you can see again, Xiao’s eyes are burning as he stares at your body.

“God…” he breathes, resting his forehead against your shoulder, peering down your body as his hands begin to venture across your skin, “Just like I remember…”

His breath comes in pants, smoothing his thumbs over your ribs before he finally cups your breasts. You whine at the feeling and arch your back but he’s quick to click his tongue, “Stay still or I stop.”

You go limp at the threat of him stopping. Instead you reach up and wrap your hands around his biceps. He pulls his head from your shoulder and leans back over you properly to kiss you again.

You whine into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him close. He allows it with no complaint, simply continues palming your breasts, thumbing over your nipples. You swear you feel him smile when your whole body trembles at the feeling.

“Xiao…” you whimper, moving your hands from around his neck. He sits up, resting back on his heels to run his hands down your body.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even react to your call of his name. Instead he shifts so he can tear the blanket from your body. You squeak when you’re finally completely exposed, tits bare and your bottom half just the same.

You feel your face flush hot, quickly closing your thighs and curling them in on yourself. Xiao clicks his tongue once more at the display of shyness, hands coming to grip your knees.

“Why are you hiding from me?” he asks, voice gruff with lust, “Won’t you let me see all of you?”

“Y-You’ve still got all your clothes on,” you mutter, looking to the side so he can’t see how flustered you are.

He regards you for a moment, memories bouncing around in his head. Memories of you and him. The first time you let him touch you all the way to the last time he’d ever touched you. Both had such contrasting emotions to them. He wonders if you think the same -- if you remember that time. How you had cried, how he had made you cry.

“I’ll take them off later,” he whispers and you finally look at him.

His eyes are locked on his hands, where they rest on your knees. His brows are furrowed, as if lost in thought and you have half a mind to question him on it. But you choose not to. Instead, despite the trepidation you feel at being so vulnerable in front of him again, you let your legs fall open.

He inhales sharply through his nose, a noise of surprise and approval. His eyes lock onto your cunt, folds glistening from how wet you already are for him. He mindlessly licks his lips, one hand trailing down your inner thigh -- slow, as if he’s waiting for you to stop him at any minute. But you don’t of course, you want him so much. You have no idea how long you had been craving the familiar, loving touch he once had. But now that you’re reminded of the tenderness he once displayed, you desperately want to feel it again.

“Pretty,” he mutters under his breath when his digits finally meet your folds, which he eagerly spreads open with two nimble fingers.

It makes you squeak and hide your face in embarrassment as he analyzes you, takes in every detail. The way your entrance clenches every so often, drooling your sweet juices, to your little clit that throbs and begs for his attention.

He’s more than willing to give it.

Collecting the slick at your entrance with his thumb, he drags it up to the tender little bud. The sound you make when he finally presses his thumb against it is heaven. His own mouth falls open in wonder as he makes soft, slow circles. Your thighs tremble and your hands mindlessly grapple for whatever they can, which happens to be his bedding and thigh. Though your nails bite into his skin, he pays it absolutely no mind. He’s entranced by how messy your cunt becomes in a matter of seconds. Such a simple touch has your body responding beautifully.

He briefly wonders if you’d ever been with anyone else. He certainly hasn’t. Did you make such a mess for those you had bedded? His jaw clenches at the possessive feeling that overcomes him.

Unlike in the past, it’s not a toxic feeling. It isn’t one that scares him, instead it has him leaning down to press his lips against the soft skin of your stomach. You’re his now. You’re his once again. That’s all that matters.

He trails his lips up your body, now using two fingers to play with your clit. He doesn’t want the sweet sounds you make to stop.

Once he reaches your breast, he eagerly wraps his lips around your nipple. You cry out immediately, hands tangling into his hair. He hums at the feeling and your whole body twitches.

“Xiao…” you gasp, one hand leaving his hand to reach between your body. He continues to mouth at your breast, humming when your hand gingerly wraps around his wrist, “Want more, please…”

His eyes nearly roll back in his head at the sweet sound of you begging. He finally pulls his mouth away and looks at you, eyes sharp as ever, “Tell me what you want.”

He can feel it, of course. The way your pretty hands desperately push on is fingers, all he’d have to do is slide them in. You mindlessly rut your hips against the digits and he growls.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay still?”

“‘M sorry,” you gasp, “Please don’t stop, Xiao. Want it.”

He bites back a groan. You’re just as sweet and pliant as he remembers. The almost blind trust you have in him not to hurt you has him flooding with emotion.

“What do you want? Say it,” he orders, voice much softer than before.

“Put them…” you press his fingers against your entrance and whine, “Inside. Please?”

He’s not prepared for the way you so greedily accept them. You gummy walls stretch so easily to accommodate him. You’re already dripping down his hand. He moves his fingers slowly, watching your face intently as you adjust to being filled.

Your lashes flutter and you sigh almost as if you’re breathless before your eyes open again and you meet his gaze. He sees the bashfulness return but before you can cower away, he crooks his fingers up and finds your spot as if he had it memorized after all these years.

And truthfully, he had. There had been many nights that he had been plagued by memories of your body, of touching you. No one had ever made him feel the way you do.

“Xiao!” you squeal, hands slamming down on the bed as your legs kick almost helplessly under the onslaught of pleasure.

“Mhm?” he hums, pinning one of your thighs down with his free hand to keep you nice and spread open for him. His eyes are glued to where your cunt swallows his fingers greedily.

“Right there, please,” you gasp, shamelessly whining and begging.

He huffs a laugh through his nose, “So noisy.”

“‘M, ah, ‘m sorry,” you babble, “Feels so good.”

He loves how responsive you are, how sensitive you are. The way you tell him what it is you’re feeling, how he’s making you feel, makes him painfully hard. But he’s not willing to move on from this just yet, he wants to be greedy for once. He wants to take everything you’re willing to give him.

Your cunt flutters around his fingers and he allows himself to moan softly at the feeling. He knows you must be close, your little tells hadn’t changed after all this time. The way your thighs jump and tremble to the way your hot little cunt gets so messy. You’re creaming around his digits, he can see the way white slicks his knuckles.

You’re muttering nonsense, feet kicking the bed helplessly. He wants to chastise you for moving around so much but he knows you can’t help it. With how tight you squeeze around his fingers, he knows you’re dangling precariously over the edge.

All you need is a final push. The fact that you need him to send you over, need him to do something for you to cum is a rush.

You watch with wide eyes as he puckers his lips suddenly and noisily spits on your cunt. It lands on your clit and in seconds, his thumb is rubbing it in.

The entire thing is too much and you cum with a breathless cry. His arm pins your hips down, keeping you from moving around too much as you thrash, cumming nice and hard for him as he works you through the high. He slides his fingers out and lightly circles your clit, easing you down as you shudder and whimper before finally falling still.

You’re panting by the time he removes himself from you, allowing you to close your thighs as the feeling of vulnerability washes over you again.

He can feel your eyes on him as he stands. Suddenly, you’re sitting up and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Hey--” he’s ready to force you to lay back down, eyeing the burning scar on your back but he’s cut off by you tugging at him.

“Don’t go,” you whimper and he softens immediately, running his hand through your hair.

“I’m not,” he responds quickly but you still don’t let him go.

He opts to begin stripping himself despite the fact you’re still clinging. Once his upper half is bared, you look up with wide eyes. He can see the way they sparkle at the sight of him and he nearly melts.

Cupping your cheek, he pulls you in for a kiss, allowing you to tug at the materials adorning his waist until he’s finally as bare as you. Keeping you locked in a kiss, he carefully lays you back down in bed, cupping the back of your head as he does so.

He easily handles your body, pulling your thighs open again so he can slot himself between them. Your knees press into his ribs and you cling to him once more, as if you really believe he’s just going to leave you.

“‘S okay,” he breathes softly, pecking your lips a few times, “‘M not leavin’...”

His words begin to slur together the further he gets dragged down into the lust. He ruts his ips forward and you both sigh when the underside of his cock finds your core. His hips work slow, passing over your folds as he slicks himself up with the mess he’d forced out of you. Every time he grinds against your clit you whimper into his mouth, thighs jumping at the overstimulation.

It makes him want to tease you, to torture your poor, sensitive little cunt and to hear you cry out for mercy as he forces you to cum over and over for him.

But that would have to wait for another time. Right now, he wants nothing more than to be with you, to indulge in your love.

You reach down before he has the chance to, wrapping your hand around the base of him. He pecks your lips again before he looks down, allowing you to guide him inside.

You stretch to accommodate him, the width wider than his fingers had stretched you. But the burn feels deliciously familiar. You keen and whine the further he pushes inside.

He watches how more and more of him disappears, groaning at the feeling of you pulsing hot around him. Before he bottoms out, he suddenly pulls his hips back until just the head is left. His length is glistening from how wet you are.

“So messy,” he spits softly, licking his lips at the sight.

“Mhm,” you whine, hands grabbing at his biceps on either side of your head, “‘S for you.”

Your little confession has him cursing under his breath, sheathing himself inside you in one smooth roll of his hips. As his hips meet yours, you let out a sweet cry that he eagerly swallows as he kisses you.

“‘S mine,” he whispers against your lips. You nod and whimper as he fucks you in earnest.

Though Xiao can keep his touches and kisses soft, as soon as his cock is inside you, he can’t help but use you however he wants. You always love it, however, the way his cock has your mind going blank is otherworldly.

Though you had never had any other lover, you knew that you would always be ruined for anyone else. No one would ever make you feel the way he did, the way he so easily made you cum undone. The soft, filthy words he whispers to himself, as if you’re not even listening. Hissing vulgar things through clenched teeth, like your cunt makes him go feral.

“So tight,” he mutters, eyes still locked onto where the two of you are connected. It’s like he’s entranced, hypnotized.

“Xiao!” you cry out, tossing your head back, “‘M close, please, jus’ a lil more!”

He huffs, changing the angle of his hips just a bit. You squeal, knees knocking against his sides as you begin to squirm.

“Too much!” you cry out, hands pressing against his chest as your body is racked with stimulation.

“You can take it,” he huffs, grappling your wrists in one hand to pin them above your head.

He uses the leverage to fuck that spot harder. Every time he sinks in, he rolls his hips, making sure to grind against your clit. Tears build up in your eyes as you sob, entire body trembling but unable to get away from it as he pins you down with his body.

“Cum,” he orders breathlessly.

And you do.

He groans at the feeling of you squeezing around him tighter than ever. He slows the movements of his hips, the tightness making it difficult for him to keep his pace. He rocks mindlessly into you as you tremble and cry through the intense orgasm.

Before you can recover, he’s releasing your hands and sitting up, gripping you beneath the knees before pinning them to your chest. Neither of you care about your injury, you don’t even feel anything but pleasure anymore.

“No, no, Xiao!” you sob, remembering all too well the damage he can cause in this position.

He shushes you and presses down on the back of your thighs, pulling out until just the tip is inside. You hold your breath, eyes wide as he simply fucks the tip in and out.

You wait for the inevitable, biting your lip as you tremble. He waits for you to release the breath you’re holding. Though he’s not looking at you, he pays attention to every minute detail about you.

When you finally let out that soft little exhale, he swings his hips down, sheathing his cock inside. Your legs kick in his hand and your hands slap helplessly against him but he pays it no mind. He continues pulling his cock out before quickly stuffing you nice and full again.

“‘S too much!” you sob, tears trickling down your cheeks. He ignores your weak complaints, knowing you want it just as much as him, “I-I’ll make a mess! Xiao!”

He groans at your warning and nods his head, “Touch yourself.”

It’s a cruel little command that you can’t help but obey. He can see your hand is trembling as you reach down to swirl timid little circles around your clit. He watches, bottom lip caught between his teeth at the sight. Your walls hug him tight as you continue the circles in time to the deep, penetrating intrusion of his cock.

“Xiao--” you gasp, quickly abandoning your task to press your hands against his hips.

“Stop pushing me away,” he spits, slapping your hands off of him.

“It’s too much!” you repeat your complaint.

He huffs, “You can take it. You’re almost there.”

He meets your gaze after a moment, taking in the wide eyed, open mouthed look on your face. The pressure in your core intensifies and your whole body begins to tremble. Your hands return to his body, though they wrap around his biceps once again, nails biting into the skin. You leave red lines across the green of his tattoo. He hisses at the pain but it doesn’t deter him.

Though your eyes are open, he’s sure you’re not seeing anything but stars.

“You’re gonna cum,” he mumbles, he takes one of your hands and laces your fingers together.

You blink up at him and sob his name. He softly shushes you, tenderly kissing your forehead as if his cock wasn’t stuffing you full.

“‘S okay,” he whispers into your hair, “C’mon, give it to me.”

You cry out his name again, your free arm wrapping around his neck, scratching his back. He’s panting, growing close to his own end quickly.

“I know,” he whispers, knowing you’re overstimulated and wound too tight. The way you cling to him as if he’s a lifeline has him pressing the softest of kisses against your skin, squeezing your hand between his, lacing your fingers together. A reminder that he’s there to ground you, that he’s with you, he’ll get you through it. You just need to let go.

You go completely still for a split second before your back arches. He slips his arm beneath your back to hold you close, supporting you as you thrash and cry. You bury your face in his neck, muffling the lewd noises in his skin. Your hands grab onto any part of him that you can as he continues the same, brutal pace of fucking you.

“Ah!” you squeal, your orgasm dragging out for much longer, only growing in intensity.

He can feel it. The way you squirt, gushing around his pistoning cock. Every movement has you gushing over and over again, wetting not only your skin, but his and the bedding as well. Neither of you can be bothered to care about it, however.

“That’s it,” he coos, finally slowing after a moment.

Your entire body is trembling, harder than you had all night. He pulls himself away from you despite your desperate cry. He folds you back into the previous position and you sob, shaking your head.

He shushes you, the same as he had been all night, “‘S my turn,” he assures.

You relax into the bed, arms dropped on either side of your head. You watch him through lidded eyes as he begins to rock into you once more. He avoids grinding himself against your clit when he sinks inside, knowing it would, in fact, be too much for you right now.

He looked down at where you were connected.

Strings of your slick connected your skin and his every time he pulled back. Your cunt was puffy, clit throbbing in the aftershocks of the intense orgasm. A ring of white was at the base of his cock, a symbol of just how hard you had cum.

The mess you’d created made his cock throb. You were such a good girl, so sweet for him. He looked back up at your face, at the dreamy look on your face and he groaned.

“So pretty,” he whispers, his own blunt nails biting into the underside of your thighs.

You whine at the pain but make no complaints. He has half a mind to feel embarrassed as you watch him cum. Your hand reaches down to caress his chest and stomach as you feel him pulse inside you, the warmth of his cum filling you up.

You sigh, a happy sound that makes his heart warm.

Pulling out of you, you wince at the feeling of his cum dripping from you but neither of you comment on it. Instead, he leans back over you and presses his lips to yours once more.

Your hand tangles in his hair and he sighs, allowing you to hold him and cling to him for a moment. He feels you shiver and frowns, watching as goosebumps rise over your skin.

Suddenly, too sudden for your liking, he pulls away. You squeeze your thighs closed and subconsciously cover your breasts with your hands, watching as he climbs off of the bed.

He takes the rag he had used earlier to wipe your skin, to clean the mess that covered him.

You can feel your heart hammering so loud it makes your ears ring. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even acknowledge you as he moves around the room, slipping his clothes back on --though without all the accessories.

He runs a hand through his hair, straightening himself out before he heads to the door. You sit up quickly, eyes wide as you watch him open it. Before you can call out to him, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’re left alone and feel a deep ache in your chest. You let yourself fall back into the bed, ignoring the soreness of your body as you tug the cover over yourself. The silence of the room is deafening, but before long it's filled with your sad, pathetic sniffles.

Mentally, you shame yourself for being so foolish. Even after so many years, you were just as naive as before. You can’t actually believe you’d been stupid enough to allow yourself to believe any of it was real. You’d gotten a taste of him once more, and now you were being punished for being so greedy.

It hurt to think that, just for a moment, you remembered what it was like to be loved by him.

You were so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the door open again. You also didn’t hear his weary sigh.

He moved around the room, glancing at you curled up on the bed, assuming you had fallen asleep. His own mind was abuzz, processing everything. It was easy to fall into the rhythm, no matter how long it had been since he performed it.

He knew you liked a nice, soft cloth to clean you up. The harshness of a normal cloth was too much given how sensitive you always were afterwards. You would also no doubt be craving some water -- though he made tea for you instead. He wasn’t quite sure what you enjoyed about it so much, but he was more than willing to indulge.

When he finally moved to the bed, he sat down, placing the cloth and bowl of warm water on the table. He turned to you and tugged at the sheet, making you gasp. You looked over your shoulder and he frowned at the sight of your tears.

His heart lurched in his chest -- worry that he did something wrong, that he hurt you, or even that maybe you were feeling regret in accepting him back.

“Y-You’re back?” you ask it, sounding so pitifully broken that he can’t help but pull you into his lap.

You’re easily adjusted, allowing him to lean back on the headrest with you curled into his body, still sniffling and crying.

“Did you think I left?” he asks softly, petting your hair.

You solemnly nod and he sighs, “I’m sorry I just...I want to believe that you...But I…”

“It’s okay,” he assures, “I haven’t earned your trust back. But I will.”

“Xiao…” you whisper, looking up at him.

“Let’s just get you cleaned up, alright?” you nearly start crying when you see he had gathered everything he would have back then.

BY the time you’re clean and curled up in bed, you’re exhausted. The tea had made you nice and warm and as you snuggled against his chest, you began to doze. Though you didn’t particularly need sleep, your injury had weakened you enough to warrant it lest you get worse.

Xiao’s body is worn but he chooses to lay there in the darkness of the bedroom. He stares at the ceiling, listening to the sound of your breathing. He desperately wants to close his eyes and, for once, sleep as well. Just so he can experience sleeping with you again.

But he can’t bring himself to. He’s terrified that if he opens his eyes, you’ll be gone and nothing will have changed. He’s not sure if he would survive if all of this had been a dream.

So he stays awake until he’s sure.

seita © 2020 | all content and its rights belong to me. do not modify or repost

Kinktober 01 - Kazuha + orgasm denial (afab reader)

Tw: pussy slapping, sex after break up, kazuha is still obsessed with reader

The way your body betrays you with just a simple touch from him is insulting.

You can't meet his eyes in embarrassment when he rips open your shirt. And, you loathe the way you can't keep your moans at bay when he starts playing with your tits using his tongue.

"Hurry," you plead, and he awards you a sharp bite in return which makes you flinch.

"Patience." Comes his calm reply. "or is it 'cause you are dying to feel my cock?"

Silence.

It makes you sick to the stomach that you still want him despite breaking up with him last week.

It was easy for him to coax you into his bed when you came over to his place to get your stuff.

It was easy for you to fall right into his arms.

You missed him so much yet this feels so wrong.

"We shouldn't b-be doing this." You sob into his neck, your body trembling as he continues pleasuring you.

He brings a hand to caress your head affectionately while his other hand is occupied with playing with your body.

You are seated on his lap and you can tell he's hard. Yet the expression on his face is unchanging. He simply watches your face contort in pleasure as he fingers you.

A lazy flick on your clit got you trembling in his arms. You can taste your sweet release, you are so close to coming undone and then suddenly it's gone.

"W-why?" You indignantly question him. You feel like crying when he smirks at your ruined face.

You are tempting. his eyes flicker to your trembling lips and wet eyes that are begging him to do something.

"What do you need me to do, baby? Tell me."

He watches your face turn shameful. When you don't answer him, he cups your tits, pinching your nipples meanly.

"You want me to touch you here?"

Letting go of your poor breasts, he lands a harsh slap right on your pussy making you sob, before slipping his fingers inside.

"You want me here, hmm? You gotta tell me."

You feel him grinding his dick against your ass. He smirks when you twitch in anticipation.

"Or.... you want my cock?" Comes his filthy suggestion.

You were reduced to tears by the time he puts his cock inside you.

Licking his lips, he watches your hips raise up to meet his thrusts. The wet sounds your pussy makes got his head spinning.

He can tell you are close by the way your hips shake and your breath hitch. And then he stops. Once again, depriving you of your sweet release.

"Nononononono... 'zuha please." This has to be a joke. Kazuha was never mean to you in bed.

"Maybe, i should keep you like this, forever." He mumbles, his eyes half lidded. "Always needing my touch and make you beg for it"

He wipes your tears with his thumb carefully. Ignoring the little punches on his chest, he presses a kiss on your forehead.

"Maybe then you won't leave me again."

Taglist: @stygianoir

I’m thinking of General Gorou. General Gorou who goes into heat every few months of the year, and his sweet subordinate who wonders why he holes himself in his tent during extended periods. His sweet subordinate who also gets too curious for their own good that they sneak to his tent one night and pokes their head through the flaps ever so slightly—which they shouldn’t.

Everyone’s told to not bother General Gorou during his private months. They respect him. They follow the rules. But not you. You, his sweet yet disobedient subordinate who takes a peak to see General Gorou—the ever so brave and strong soldier—whining and groaning and huffing as he desperately tugs at his shaft, ears twitching and eyes filled with tears. General Gorou who is in heat; he’s vulnerable and desperate and his tip is blazing red with the utter need to come again and again.

And you, his sweet and cute subordinate swallowing your shock and trying to contain yourself even though you can feel the heat rushing up your neck and burning your ears. Oh goodness, how hot the scene before you was.

General Gorou’s sensitive, and he smells your arousal. His eyes looking up to see his most favorite underling, watching him at such a pathetic state. Is he embarrassed? No. But does he stop? No.

He thinks you’re here to help him. What a sweet person you are. He spread his legs, hand fondling his balls as he tugs at his cock with the other. He looks at you with those big turquoise eyes, pleading and eager. He whines and whimpers at you to come and help him out. He’ll repay you, he says. He trusts you, he praises. He promises he’ll be good for you.

And fuck… you didn’t dare say no. Not when he looked so good—so fucking delicious. You go to him, help him, and listen to everything he wants. You do it. You kiss him and caress him, you replace his hands with yours and you put your mouth on his throbbing tip until he bursts ropes of cum down your throat. Yet he still hasn’t had enough.

General Gorou would selfishly take everything from you for himself. He’s in heat and all his mind can think about is to be buried deep inside of your sopping wet heat. He’ll press you down deep into his mattress, legs up against your chest, and his lips sloppily against your as he ruts his sensitive cock into you. He plans to breed you—to knot you.

You’re his sweet subordinate after all. He could do anything he wanted with you. You promised you’d let him—a promise given through pants and moans and mewls as General Gorou desperately fucks his cum over and over again into you. Oh archons, but it was so good you couldn’t stop him. Not even when your legs are shaking and numb and you’re about to pass out from overstimulation.

You’re a wonderful soldier of his after all. You would do anything to please General Gorou.

pantalone always made a habit of asking if you wanted anything from him before going about the rest of his day. 

opulence is his vice that you’re forced to consume alongside him — he won’t stop pestering until you give in. throughout his years, he’s witnessed many courtships, his main takeaway being that gifts are well-received. the thoughtfulness that goes into making these gifts so special in the first place… he’s never been able to grasp that element of it. hence why he grants you the privilege of dictating what you want. and it is a privilege. the destitute upbringing he had makes him sensitive to you freely rejecting what he would’ve killed to have. 

you don’t want to feed his fantasies, but that just won’t do; he may cling to his pride but you cannot. 

you must ask for savory meals prepared by the finest chefs or you will be fed gruel. if you do not explicitly request fine clothes fit for royalty you will be dressed in tattered fabric. everything that was ever your possession must be upgraded, so he may prove what you worked for pales in comparison to his own wealth. it’s a constant battle between preserving yourself or allowing him to mold you to his preference. 

every morning, he comes to part the veil hanging over your bed, waking you from a dreamless slumber. and just like every morning before that, the first question on his lips is as such: 

“what shall it be today? i do hope you’ve been giving it plenty of thought.” 

"KUNIKUZUSHI! Don't you dare ignore me, I don't care if your henchmen hear me yelling!"

notes: yandere, forced marriage, some misogny and classism

You would never claim that your husband was known for his delicacy, yet the word delicate is what comes to mind as his entire being immediately pivots and begins stepping towards you in one fluid, horribly graceful motion. His steps are light; almost a mimicry of ordinary steps, doll-like, and if it weren’t for the bells on his hat, no one would hear him coming. You aren’t the only one who has been surprised on occasion by his sudden appearances.

Yet the delicacy of his movements are utterly betrayed by the ugly frown twisted on his beautiful face. You only have the luxury of focusing on it for a few moments before he grips the collar of your dressing gown and yanks you toward him in one harsh, swift movement.

“Have you lost your senses, woman?” The words are hissed low. “I did not give you my name so you could shriek it out like some ragged pauper screaming at her chickens.”

Your lips press together in a grim line. Oh, yes, you were used to his insults about your heritage, all wrapped in his unfortunate desire to present you to the world--but mostly to himself--as some sort of ethereal noblewoman’s wife. All quiet grace and charm.

Yet it wasn’t the life you were born into, nor did such lofty manners come easily to you. They seemed rather pointless at times, especially since you eventually realized that he liked you best when you were at ease in private, eager to engage with him on a more intimate level than any noblewoman would ordinarily do for her dear husband. It was all a show, one you both put on to different degrees.

“Yet you did give me your name to use,” and the small dip of your head as you speak is both a mockery of the manners he’s instilled in you and a gesture ingrained through months of tedious, irritating training. “And I saw fit to use it thus, since I was speaking to you as my husband, and not my lord.”

“Am I not both?” He muses, and his voice is tight, but the fingers gripping the fabric of your gown loosen anyway. “You certainly know better than to raise your voice to your lord and husband. Are you so ill-trained?” He lifts your chin with a finger, chiding, but there’s a bit of warm teasing in his voice that contrasts against the  coolness of his skin.

You know enough about Scaramouche to know that the situation is on its way to defusing significantly, if not entirely, and you know exactly how to present yourself to soothe the electric irritation you’ve sparked with your outburst.

You lean your chin forward, guiding him to take your face in his hand, and he does. Your eyelashes flutter and you look at him with as much pleading as you can summon.

“Will you answer the question I asked, then, instead of leaving me without another word?” And if your tone becomes softer, if your voice is tinged with something akin to neediness and loneliness, it’s not entirely for show. “Please, my lord, my husband…” 

You wait, for effect, before dealing your finishing blow in a tone far sweeter than the one you used to keep him here earlier. “Kunikuzushi?”

He regards you with eyes that have taken in every inch of your body a thousand times. Sometimes you wonder if he has the power to read minds or to see inside souls. You don’t ask, because the answer might just frighten you.

“All right. We’ll pass through your village once. I expect there to be tributes. And don’t imagine that you’ll be staying for more than an hour or so.”

Your smile is far more gracious than the limitations he’s placed on you, but you don’t mind. Perhaps you can talk him into more later.

“Thank you, my lord.”

He gives your chin a harsh squeeze before letting it drop.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. I’m not a fool. I agreed only to spare myself more of your shrewish behavior.”

“Of course, husband,” you say, watching him leave.

He is not a fool, it’s true. But neither are you.

Genshin men when you go quiet in bed (minors dni)

Childe loathes when you go quiet. Eyes narrowing in a glare that makes you freeze, he intends to make you scream for him. his hips move faster against you, cruel and with no remorse. Once he finds the spot that makes you see stars, he whispers a small "there baby?" and chases after it mercilessly. He feels the lick of pleasure when you are clawing at his skin and screaming his name.

Nothing goes past zhongli's attentive eyes. He knows what to do to make you tremble with pleasure. You gulp when you notice a shift in his eyes. His eye lids lower as he runs his hands all over your trembling body. Hums in appreciation when you let out a cry finally. You bury your head against his bare chest as you sniffle helplessly to his relentless efforts to bring you to pleasure.

Ayato spanks your ass raw when you go quiet. Chuckles darkly against your ears as you clutch his arm helplessly. "Hurts baby?" He asks in mock concern as you whimper and nod your head. Makes you grind against his thighs as he runs a soothing hand against your asscheeks. He would absolutely hate it when you go quiet so you better be loud.

So you dared to go quiet around scaramouche. He would devour you and you have no choice but to tremble under him. He's bruising your skin in punishment and is very harsh with degradation. Would choke you and glare at you with so much fire in his eyes. Don't be surprised when you wake up with bite marks all over your skin. After all he prefers dolls that cry.

Kaeya seemed calm. Too calm at first. But you should know that the punishment for your silence would be harsh. You can't help but sob when he pulls away from you completely before you cum. You learnt that ruined orgasms aren't worth it. So you beg for his touch, his cock and anything shamelessly. He is amused that the simplest touch from him makes you shiver and cry.

Title: Tea Screen [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Title: Tea Screen [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: The trembling voice of the tea apprentice carries through the room, and though you can’t see him, you imagine he must be shaking. Who wouldn’t be, tasked with gaining the approval from the Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbringers? 

Word Count: 2240

Notes: Yandere, forced marriage, abuse

 “Is–is it acceptable, my lord?”

The trembling voice of the tea apprentice carries through the room, and though you can’t see him, you imagine he must be shaking. Who wouldn’t be, tasked with gaining the approval from the Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbringers? Even if its only approval for a selection of tea.

You rock forward, just enough to peek your head past the screen keeping you from view, and glance at the selection laid out carefully in front of Scaramouche–in front of your husband. 

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PLAY-PARTNERS

YANDERE KAMISATO AYATO

Summary: You are in an affair with the head of the kamisato clan, unwillingly.

Warning: May contain triggering content, implied sexual relationship, non-consensual touching, ayato being manipulative- the poor reader is stressed.

The headquarters of the Yashiro commission wasn't by far the most unlikeable place on teyvat.

It held some horrible recollections for the young lady sipping her warm tea at a table, apprehensive, and nervously pressing her lips into a thin line, glancing towards the male present with her, on the other side, eyeing her with what she presumes could be inquisitiveness. She anxiously swallows the bitter beverage, comprehending her next choice of speech.

However, every time she catches a glimpse of him, it's like she doesn't recognize what she was to say. It's the way he looks at her as if he's aware of whatever is fiddling inside that small head of hers, crushing down her meek defences and examining her core nature, then shaming her with his eyes alone.

Ultimately, she decides to remain quiet for fear of saying something she shouldn't and then silently lament it in the future. Instead, pondering when they met. She's a married woman, with no child, a husband who is very much overprotective of her, for good purposes.

The man abruptly leaned forward, and she snips off her reminiscence, stiffly perceiving his upper body, momentarily peeking at his equitable expression, and then dragging it onto the floating liquid in a cup.

"Thanks for joining me for tea on such short notice, I've been thinking about you a lot lately." He confessed, she feebly drew in a soft breath, making herself appear like she was in deep thoughts, but she wouldn't know how believable she seemed.

He resumed.

"I've missed you much. How have you been? Last I saw, you appeared quite happy."

Was he mocking her? When they met, she went all out needing to avoid him, what they did, was nothing more than a grave mistake. Something she'd appreciate being left behind and forgotten, to save her skin and sanity, yes, but, what more can she do to ease the burden of guilt.

She averts her gaze, preparing to answer.

"I'm fine. Just feeling a little under the weather I suppose..." She muttered, shyly deterring her eyes when the look he formulated made her stomach churn. She felt like she was being peeled by the skin.

"I see." He responded.

Subconsciously, her hand reached out to her belly, sensitively grasping it. He noticed.

"Is something the matter? You are very incommunicative today." He said, narrowing his eyes and slightly lifting his chin, she chokes on her word, startling herself and recoiling from the chagrin. Hesitantly connecting eyes, the urge to rend it away was consistent, nervously fidgeting unbeknownst to her worked up brain.

"Yes- I'm good, um... Just thinking about my husband." She untruthfully replied he heeded, said nought in return.

"Is it related to us?" He implored after an uneasy moment of lull and cognition, her shoulders mildly tough up. He noticed that as well.

"Not quite, but yes." She lied.

"Are you worried he will find out about us?" He asked once again, intrigued and somewhat, blissful.

"I wouldn't want him to, but if he does, and he doesn't want to be associated with me anymore, then it is alright. I've been an unfaithful wife." She muttered. His eyes dimmed a little, and he loosened his rigid posture, indulging in grim thoughts.

"And say, if you had the chance to re-marry, would you?" That tricked her mind, she visibly made a nonplused presentation on her face, puzzled but knowing his true intentions behind an indifferent, humane facade.

"I'm not sure about that." She mumbled.

Immediately, she added with an urgency in her voice, "I... need to go now, thank you for having me." He nodded, looking at her then, he stifled a smile.

"You needn't." He retorted.

Stopping the woman in her tracks, wordlessly questioning his intentions, her back turned and face away from his prying vision, he confirmed, "you mustn't leave. Please rest for a while longer." He finished, oddly his face did not compliment his tone. Instantly, buzzing all red alarms in her head.

She stared, wishing to ask, decided to keep quiet.

"You forgot to tell me one crucial thing." He said as he rose to his full height, approaching and closing the distance, the gap between their bodies small and insignificant. She slowly advanced backwards, her gaze trained on him.

"You are with my child, inside of you." He whispered with a grin, she stopped, her fingers loosely clenched and shallow breaths unable to reach her lungs. "How could you keep such a thing from me?" Gently he snaked his hand around her waist, his other, resting and steadily caressing her abdomen.

"If you try anything. It won't end well." He suddenly threatened upon nearing in on her body, leaning towards her ear. She didn't say anything.

He took the time to swiftly arrange her imprisonment.

"Maids! Take her inside and see she rests well, she isn't to leave without me." He sternly instructed, his dominant hand gripping her tight. Voicelessly, demanding her to move along soundly.

"I'll be back shortly. You rest up till then." He smiled, softly stroking her cheek, and then letting his hold unfasten. She looked down, obediently allowing the maidens to drag her inside.

Ayato watched.

Slowly turning on his heels to flee, to make sure someone in her life doesn't reap the likelihood to encounter her again.

Then, her name wouldn't need to be dirted and dishonoured.