Chapter 1: blowjobs, titfucking, praise kink!
Summary:
Loid overthinks things and Yor helps him get (his mind) off (things), in ways only she can!
Chapter Text
001: love you can taste
“...You’re thinking,” she observes as they’re in bed together.
“I am,” he replies, kissing her neck, taking in the scent of her perfume.
“Anything in particular?”
Loid sighs as he leans back, straddling either side of her hips, the soft-knit fabric of her jumper a soothing presence.
“No, not really. Just…work,” he says and hopes she understands that…there are things he wants to tell her, but simply cannot, and so he doesn’t.
And Yor seems to, judging by the way she nods slowly, considering his words as she fidgets with the cuffs of her sleeves. Neither of them make it a habit to pry into each other’s work lives (and he certainly hasn’t, not since that brief episode a year into their marriage).
“Is there…” Yor starts.
“Hm?”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asks.
“No—” he starts, only to find her hand splayed on his broad chest.
“Yes,” he ends up saying.
Her fingers dance along his skin.
“Yes?” she prompts.
Fingers trail down, teasing the hem of his t-shirt.
“Yes…” he repeats.
Yor hums. “What can I do for you?”
“I—”
Yor slides down to tease the waistband of his boxer briefs.
Loid stops himself. He’s always prided himself on his ability to make split-second decisions, yet now…
“Come here,” she says, making that decision for him.
He follows her lead. He leans in, kissing her softly as her thumb hooks over the waistband and starts to tug down impatiently. Loid lets her, lets her strip him bare, expose him in ways he would never dream of.
His cock juts out, hard and heavy with arousal. It’s easy, almost too easy, to get him like this, with her hand curled around him, spreading pre-cum along his shaft.
Then, quite without warning, Yor pulls up her jumper so that it just rides up to her collarbones, exposing her beautiful heaving chest, her perky pink nipples and his hard cock right between them.
“Oh,” he says plainly.
Yor takes his hands, too, and…places them on her firm, full breasts. Loid squeezes on instinct, and she pushes back against the pillows.
“Oh, that’s nice,” she says quietly; confidently.
He tweaks a nipple out of curiosity.
“Mm, harder ,” she urges him.
He pinches them both harder and Yor tips her head back in a moan.
“Very good. Yes. Like that.”
He feels a shiver go up his spine at those words (tries not to question it too much). Yor looks down, looks down at him working her nipples, squeezing them, rolling and pinching. Her fingers are on top of his, guiding him again. Only this time, she makes a tugging motion.
“Oh.”
And then she pushes her breasts together, enveloping him completely.
…In that moment, Loid throws all caution to the brisk night air. He steadies his hands on the headboard, hips rocking against her a little, coaxing her. Not that Yor needs any.
Yor doesn’t do much work; doesn’t have to. Loid watches, mesmerised as though she’d put him under a spell. She pushes her breasts together, palms pressing inward where his throbbing cock rests. Then she moves outward. In, and then out. In. Out. In. Out.
And…it feels good. Very good. He grips the headboard a little tighter with one hand as the other comes down to caress her cheek. He realises he’s playing right into her hand, has fallen right into her trap and…
Yor takes him in her mouth. He groans at how hot, how wet it feels, how gentle she is. It’s too late to get out now (not that he wants to). It doesn’t help either how she moans at the sight of him and it’s maddening how he can feel the vibrations in her chest, along the length of his cock.
“ Fuck ,” he swears, moan breaking off as he thrusts forward into the warm embrace.
That only encourages her further and he watches as her tongue works the head of his cock, swirling around it, wet and sloppy, as she wraps her plush lips around him and moans so softly before she—
She sucks him off now, bobbing gently up and down the head of his cock, humming to herself, and looking straight up at him. Loid’s hand at her cheek drops down to the back of her head, getting tangled in her hair.
“Yor…” he groans, and thrusts against the plushness of her breasts. She takes more of him in, hollowing out her cheeks, drawing him out.
“Yor, you…”
She works him harder, sucking him off even harder, the pressure bordering on unbearable as she moans again, with her breasts practically bouncing up and down his cock.
“Yor, I —”
Loid shudders as he pulls back just in time to meet his release, moan swallowing up the rest of his sentence. He cums over her face and chest. Yor helps him out too, placing her hand over his, stroking him, coaxing him, her tongue swiping away what she can as he empties out what’s left.
Then he collapses with a low groan. Utterly spent and utterly defeated.
He rests against her plush chest afterwards, burying his face in it.
“Better?” she asks a moment later.
“Yes, much better,” he replies, lifting his head. “...Thank you.”
Then he catches a glint of something in her eyes, in spite of that blush on her cheeks.
A hint of… more.
And as Loid takes her nipple into his mouth and as Yor’s hands tug on his hair, he thinks, really, who is he to deny his wife such simple pleasures…?
Chapter 2: rimming, anal, sex toys
Summary:
In which Loid and Yor get a little...handsy!
Notes:
I must admit I have hardly written Loid being possessive and taking the lead, and much as I love writing Yor do so, it's nice to switch things up every once in a while >:DD So, enjoy!
Chapter Text
002: brush by gracefully
She has always been very wary of hands on her skin. Hands which brush against her as she pushes past a sea of people at a dinner party, rough hands which fondle her, coupled with leering gazes and smug looks from men — always men; often members of the Ostanian politburo — who think they know better than her, and hard hands which grip her firmly, poised to attack.
…But she’s never wary of Loid’s.
Loid’s hands are always smooth and soft; never calloused. Or if they are calloused and wrinkled — from assembling flat-pack furniture sets with great frustration, fingers smarting from using the stupid small screwdrivers, making elaborate dinners or in indulging in Anya’s overexcited bath times — it’s never for very long. Never long enough for Yor to notice.
Loid's hands are always warm, too. Even on these cold Berlint nights which they’ll spend huddled together on the sofa or cuddled up in Anya’s bed with all her teddies, leafing through the pages of her Bondman action comics.
And Loid’s hands are…comforting. They’re gentle, to have and to hold, reassuring her, comforting her, and caressing her as they do now.
Now it is much later and they are alone. Now, his soft hands cup her face as he kisses her so sweetly that she moans into his mouth. His hands trail down too. They match the sloping curve of her neck and shoulders, down the steep drop to her arms and follow the path to her hips, where they settle firmly as he presses into her.
“Yor…” he whispers against her lips, almost as a question.
“Of course,” she answers, capturing him in another kiss.
His hands make quick work of her clothes; strip her bare. They give each other one look, studying each other, understanding each other. His hands squeeze at her hips, fingers grasping at her firm ass.
He flips her over and pins her down.
“Oh, Yor, you…” Loid breathes, hands coming up to spread his wife’s ass cheeks apart. “I didn’t think you’d—”
Below him, Yor buries her face in one of the pillows.
“I— gave you my word,” she answers, gasping as she feels Loid’s thumbs press inwards.
“You did. You did say you would,” he says, swallowing thickly as he takes in the sight of…
His wife, face down and ass up to expose the silver plug which fits snugly in her tight hole.
“It’s—” Loid starts, only to find the words are caught in his throat. He doesn’t try to retrieve them, instead letting his actions speak louder, by…appreciatively running his fingers along the flared handle, pressing, pushing it just so that it barely teases, tests her.
“ Oh ,” Yor hisses, arching her back like a cat.
He works the plug a little more, applying just the lightest amount of pressure. His fingertips dance along the curve of her ass, stroking her at first, then kneading at the soft yet firm flesh. She moans as she feels the thick, heavy plug loosen little by little, until…
Loid pulls it out and she’s left with nothing .
“Oh God,” she moans, gripping the bed sheets, shivering in anticipation.
“Oh God,” Loid groans above her, fixated on the sight of her glistening gaping hole. It doesn’t help either that her pussy is absolutely drenched, begging for attention.
His hands move to settle at her hips, thumbs rubbing soothing, innocuous circles as though he’s doing nothing more than massaging her shoulders after a long day at the office hauling documents (and weapons). It almost feels like the calm before the storm, the quiet before a crime, until—
Loid spanks her, jolting her forward, smarting from the sting. He spanks her again, before she suddenly feels his teeth sink into the soft flesh, his fingers prising her ass cheeks apart and his mouth finally on her.
“Oh, God, Loid,” she whimpers, eyes blown wide.
Loid’s tongue works her, tracing circles around her hole, licking and laving, till the tip of his tongue finally presses against her.
“Don’t stop, please...”
Loid stops; pulls away. She almost turns her head back now, only to catch the unmistakable sound of a bottle cap, the squirt of liquid and the dip in the mattress to signal Loid coming behind her again.
Two slick fingers begin to tease at her hole. Yor swallows hard, trying to even out her breathing as she feels that heat pool deep in her core. Loid’s fingers slip in without much resistance at all, working her open.
“More…” she gasps out.
“ More ?”
“Yes. Please,” she answers.
There’s a momentary pause. Yor feels as though her whole body is on fire, red-hot with shame.
But Loid withdraws his fingers, leaving Yor to only whimper at the emptiness, to catch the sound of the bottlecap and—
He smacks her ass and she jolts forward again.
“Do you want me to fuck you, hm? Is that it? Tell me, Yor, do you want me to?” he says; it sounds so delightfully filthy that Yor can't help but shiver against his touch.
“Y-yes. Please,” she gasps out.
That’s all that’s needed. As soon as he lines up his cock with her hole, Yor tugs , forcing him forward with a jolt and oh, he’s inside her. His hands are all over her as he fucks her, squeezing, fondling and groping every inch of her. Not in the way of those awful old Ostanian men, but in the way of a lover, possessed, possessed with the need for more . More of her; as much as he can get.
…His hands are all over her afterwards, but he’s no longer possessed by that frantic need. Here, in the silence that follows, Loid is unhurried, loose and fluid in his movements. He touches her here and there, he makes sure she’s alright — that she’s comfortable. Then he settles behind her, and pulls her tight to his chest, so that she’s enveloped in his warmth, his scent, his… everything ; all of him.
His arm encircles her waist, his hand coming to stop at her middle, and Yor…
Yor simply rests her hand on top of his.
Chapter 3: fantasies; jealous Yor
Summary:
…Sometimes she wonders if he’s imagining someone else when he’s with her.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
003: nameless dream
…Sometimes she wonders if he’s imagining someone else when he’s with her. It’s not something she’s ever really thought about before, actually.
It had been his touch that had set it off. Just an observation from the night before. The way his hand had lingered on her hip. The way he’d pressed against her, a little awkwardly and not too endearingly. Almost as though he’d expected to find something — someone else. Someone smaller than her, a little less…clumsy, a little less defined. Softer. Give him something he could hold onto.
He doesn’t talk of her much, but Yor suspects — assumes; there, that’s a nicer word — he thinks of his late wife. And…it’s perfectly reasonable. Perfectly understandable. And she hates how the guilt, the shame, the entitlement coils deep within her. How dare she assume she’s anything to compete with…with that ?
She doesn’t even know what she looks like. Loid doesn’t keep photographs (strange, but people process grief in different ways) and she’s never stumbled on her old clothes in boxes hidden at the back of closets. Nothing that would aid her imagination.
Hell, it could just be Loid thinking of an old flame. A girl — or guy — from his university days which he doesn’t really talk about either (strange, but people handle their pasts in different ways). And to be honest, she had wondered, because sometimes he sighs a little exasperatedly into her neck, like he’s searching for something a little…harder. And who could blame him, really? She’s hardly the first (and she suspects she won’t be the last). He’s bound to…find similarities, find patterns, and…
It hurts actually. Hurts to think about it because he’s her first. He’s all she’s known. And all she’s known here is a sham. An act. It’s just sex. Good sex — which they’ve been having more recently! — but really it’s all part-and-parcel of their deal. Keeping up appearances. Going through the motions. Temporary relief. A practice run.
A great big lie .
…Yor stalls. The pit grows deeper in her. Someone comes to mind.
She swallows thickly.
Someone she knows. Someone she’s met. Someone who’s been in their home; threatened the sanctity of their sham marriage—
Someone who probably has destroyed it.
…And who could blame Loid for choosing her ? Yor has seen the way she looks at him and the way he looks at her, the way he talks to her, and how he works with her and—
Loid and Fiona: what would that look like?
Possessive, she thinks.
A purple lace bra ripped apart, shirt buttons torn asunder, and her legs up in the air with Loid bearing down.
Hot.
Fucking into her. Fast and furious.
Heavy.
Sharp scratch marks on his back.
Or…
She’s on top, driving him mad with her lips on his cock, cooing sweet nothings at him, her short bob bouncing up and down, purple-lipsticked lips parted in a perfect ‘o’ shape, begging him to cum in her, to make a baby with her.
It’s a little voyeuristic just thinking about it, even. And…it just, it just—Just makes Yor wonder what he sees in her — Yor, his wife, stepmother to his dear daughter.
Something, maybe.
Nothing, probably.
She’s unremarkable.
Not a good mother to Anya; a worse wife to him.
She’s only good for one thing. That, she realized years ago. She has just the one role to play.
A supporting act.
A side-act.
A pawn in other people’s games.
A bit-part in other people’s’ lives.
“...Do you miss me?” she asks him, drying a dish on another predictable autumn evening. “When you’re away?”
He gives her a puzzled look, one that morphs into a frown. He shifts his stance.
“I do,” he replies, putting away the dish.
She hands him another one.
“How?” she asks, pointedly, in a tone that would probably send alarm bells ringing in his head.
“How?” he echoes. “Well…it’s…nice, to have something — someone — to come home to.”
She holds the next dish out for him.
“Oh,” she says, but it comes out a little exaperatedly. Perhaps because she doesn’t understand that she might be someone worth missing, or perhaps because…
It’s not the answer she wants.
Do you want me? That’s what she wants to ask; wants to scream out. Would ask, if she weren’t such a coward.
But she doesn’t dare to.
She wants something more when they have sex. She wants to give him something else. Wants to give him what Fiona would give him, probably. Wants to be the woman; the femme fatale, the— something. Anything .
She wants him helpless before her. Wants him tied to the bed, wants him to want her . Wants him to grab her by her waist in the kitchen, wants his hands to wander up the backs of her bare thighs, under her skirt, wants him to call her a pretty little thing — a slut — and bend her over.
He probably would.
If only she’d ask.
…If only she weren’t such a coward.
Notes:
Well, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! What a comeback for me and thank you for your patience as I’ve been drowning in university work this semester — it’s my final year ahhh and I am a metaphorical man on a mission kaCHOW! So updates will likely remain sporadic…
But anyway, poor Yor! I promise she will rectify the situation in the next few prompts, so...
Stay tuned! >:))
Chapter 4: femdom Yor, Loid against a wall
Summary:
In which Yor gets her own way and Loid gets pinned against a wall!
Notes:
Happy new year! And happy new update -- what better way to kick it off than with a bit of femdom!Yor?!
Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
004: seesaw
She leaves him a message a week later, on the answering machine at his office. Some reason or other, something to get him away from his desk, get him home, home where she needs him.
What sort of a reason? It doesn’t matter.
Doesn’t matter, because as soon as Loid walks through the door Yor pounces on him.
She pins him against the hallway wall, like a black widow pins its male suitor. Loid groans, predictably, though more so when her hand goes to his half-hard cock.
“Yor, I—” he shudders through gritted teeth, but she shuts him up quickly with a kiss. It’s not that she doesn’t want to hear him — she loves it, in fact — but it’s…not what she needs. Not right now. Not as—
Loid tries to counteract; tries to kiss her back, his hands trailing down her hips, finding his way between—
Yor isn't having any of it. There will be no push or pull tonight. Only a tug of war.
She yanks him by the tie and slams him against the other wall. She pulls his hands above his head, and draws his body up. That elicits another moan from Loid, especially as she starts to undo the shirt buttons with her free hand, to lay claim to his slender neck, his collar bones that stick out, his broad, strong shoulders. She wants to kiss him all the way down his front, wants to savour him, take him in her mouth but—
Not tonight. Not now. Her mind’s racing; she lets go of her hold on him and…Loid starts palming her breasts through her blouse — that , she does indulge him in though.
Not for long. Not for long at all, before she grabs him by the lapels of his suit jacket, surprising herself with the brute force of her strength (surprising herself with how his cock twitches delightfully in response), as she drags him further down the hallway.
“Your room or mine?” he asks, softly, breathlessly , between fierce kisses, her lipstick smudging the corners of his mouth, marking him as hers.
“ Mine ,” she says, emphatically. She doesn’t care that the bed’s smaller, that it’s not been made. It’s just the simple fact that her room is closer and that— that he could be in her space.
Yor kicks open the door — near damn kicks it off its hinges – and Loid kicks it shut behind her. In sync. Here she slams him against the door too, presses the full weight of her body on him and oh — how he groans, eyes widening in almost disbelieving pleasure. He’s helpless. Trapped .
She does nothing though to help him. Doesn’t lean further into him, doesn’t kiss him, or let her hands roam as they please.
In fact…For a moment, in the chaos she has created, they pause; look between them.
Just for a moment.
Then Yor shoves him on the bed, tears off their clothes and—
“ Please ,” he whispers as she takes him in hand.
He’s so hard already, leaking pre-cum. But Yor only gives him a couple perfunctory strokes; just straddles him on either side of his hips…
“Wait, I’m not—”
She hovers above him. Another look; one that could kill . Loid swallows down the rest of his weak protest, and she hears nothing more, lining herself up with his cock and sinking down.
A moan catches in her throat.
He feels so good inside her, so warm. She could just stay like this forever.
She doesn’t.
No .
Instead, Yor sits up, such that barely the tip is inside her and Loid can’t do anything, not without her say-so. She had never thought she’d be capable of such…initiative, to command him in such ways, but then she supposes…confidence does grow over time. Besides, this is her way of getting back at him; her ass cheeks are still bright-red from their last…efforts. They give and take in this marriage; this…arrangement.
Her hands roam him, her red nail varnish makes for such a pleasing contrast with his pale skin. She twists one of his nipples; he bucks up in her touch with a half-smile.
That’s it. She’s back down on him.
And Yor rides him, rides him till her nails dig into his skin and he’s a begging mess before her, his head tipped back against the pillows as he moans wantonly for her. No let up though, not with his big thick cock slamming into her over and over, filling her up so delightfully, giving her exactly what she needs.
In fact, she barely pays him any attention, barely registers the way he watches her bouncing on his cock, his hands squeezing her firm ass, the way he shifts under her, so that he’s got some leverage too, so that he’s fucking into her, balls slapping against her dripping wet pussy, matching that same furious pace she’s set—
Loid cums in no time.
Inside her.
Yet…when Yor tries to rise, he actually keeps her there, rolling his hips steadily till there’s nothing more to be done but—
She falls forward, crashing their lips together.
—but for her to tip into the pleasure — their pleasure — too.
Notes:
Next prompt will feature more of Yor getting her own way >:)))
Meanwhile, it's actually my birthday tomorrow (happy birthday to me!)
Chapter 5: first times, handjobs, sofa
Summary:
“I just— I think… I’d like you to be my first, Loid.”
Notes:
Happy Easter weekend! I am back with another update >:DD so, thank you to anyone who's stuck around and hello to anyone new (before I inevitably disappear back into my studies...!)
Chapter Text
005: he and I, breath to breath
It had come about all rather clumsily, as things with Yor often tend to. They’d been half-watching television together, and then, as they’d been sitting on the sofa, not quite touching shoulders but still quite close, Yor had begun: “Loid…”
“...Yes?”
“Can I kiss you?”
Loid looks up from the cryptic crossword he's been trying to solve.
“C-can you what?”
Then suddenly he’s met with soft lips on his own and…he’s kissing her — his wife — back. But Yor soon pulls away, and before Loid can begin to process what’s just happened, Yor then says, “Actually, could I— could we …do something a little more?”
Loid swallows hard, eyes wide. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. He’s…never been asked before. Not like this. “Er, yes, that would…”
She puts her hands between them, creating a little space. An interruption. “O-only if you want to! It’s just…I’ve been wondering and…”
“You—you have?” he echoes, head spinning.
“Yes. But of course, I’ve never done it with anyone else…”
“Of course…” he says quietly. “Whereas…”
“You have.”
“I—” he swallows. “Yes, I have.”
“And…” Yor turns, scooting a little closer so that their knees bump. “I just think — I’d like you to be my first.”
Loid feels like he’s burning up. There’s no place to hide here. And somehow…that’s the hardest thing, because— he doesn’t want to compromise things. He doesn’t want Yor to misinterpret or to misperceive his intentions.
And yet he wants this too, doesn’t he? Wants her , and not just to prove a point, for the sake of keeping up appearances, for the mission, but…
Her hand falls on his thigh. Innocuous.
“So…could you?” she asks. “Be my first, I mean.”
He breathes in sharply.
But… he returns to the thought: he wants her, because he simply does.
“Yes,” he replies, and lets Yor kiss him again. Her other hand cups his jaw, softly rubbing the patchy stubble of his cheek, as her hand glides further up his leg, as if to ask—
“Yes, you may,” he tells her.
But Yor pulls back, and she's worrying at her lip, her face flushed.
“I want— want you to touch me.”
“Of course,” he says, leaning in to peck her on the lips gently.
“Or…” he begins. Another peck. “We could touch each other?”
She kisses him back.
“Oh, you do have the best ideas, Loid!”
He draws in a breath, chuckling to himself.
Then their hands are on each other; her skirt gets hiked up to her waist and his belt buckle is undone, trousers around his ankles. And… Loid is already very much aroused when his cock is freed.
“Oh! You’re… big ,” she states, but it comes out more like a question. Like she isn’t too sure of herself.
“A-and?” Loid prompts, jutting a little forward so that his cock presses just against her body.
Yor squeaks. “And that’s very okay! Even better, I— I’d like to know what it feels like in me. Not right now, but…At some point! Later!”
That sets something off in Loid, because his hand is at the back of her head, bunched up in her hair. He kisses her. Hard. Nips and bites at her lips, draws them out between his teeth so that Yor is left to just moan and whine feverishly against him.
They grind against each other again and Loid feels the hitch in his throat. He knows he can moan with Yor here, he knows it’s alright — acceptable, even, for a man to voice his…pleasure — and Yor certainly wouldn’t mind. She wants this, he reminds himself, and, oh, hell, her hand’s on him now.
…Loid had always thought his own hand was enough, on those sleepless, restless nights on stakeouts; he knew how to get himself off.
But Yor?
Yor, for all her inexperience, is even better . Her hands are softer, and she knows exactly how to use them. One hand cups his balls, with featherlight touches that belie her general rough-and-tumble clumsiness. Her other hand strokes the underside of his cock. And Yor looks so serious, looks like she’s concentrating so hard. It’s actually…rather cute. And hot.
And Loid tips his head back and moans. Moans loudly and swears when the soft pad of her thumb begins rubbing the tip of his cock.
“O-oh! You seem to really like that, Loid!”
Loid shudders through another moan, bucking forward into her touch, trying to get at more of her. It’s greedy, it’s selfish, he thinks; it’s unbecoming. But… it’s just so good.
He does play his part too, though, pressing his fingers against her. She’s so wet already that he doesn’t need to do much more than run his fingers a little further down, pushing a little in.
“Ohh, I like that,” Yor says, keening into him. “More, please, more…”
Loid lets her have more. He kisses her again, a little softer, with their lips sliding together. His free hand trails up her body, diving underneath her loose blouse to palm at her tits.
Yor lets go of him for a moment; he helps her with the buttons, with taking it off, discarding the bra with it too…
Loid looks down; his hand glides up her side, up to her breasts. He rolls one perky pink nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He listens for the hitch in her throat, and pinches .
Yor yelps out in surprise. He does it a second time; a third, and hell, her hands are on him, and she’s yanking him down so that they fall down together on the sofa, his cock pressed against her thigh.
“Yor…” he groans, sucking in a breath.
Yor’s hand is back between them, and the contrast of her blood-red nail polish against his cock is… something. For all his stamina, he’s not sure how much longer he can go. Then Yor wraps her fist around the head of his cock and Loid is… Loid is gone.
He cums, messily, onto her skirt. But there’s no time to feel embarrassed about it. Besides, what does it matter when Yor now has her hand on top of his, guiding him, helping him pick up the pace as she moans and babbles about how good it feels and how she’s really close to cumming and she’s worried she’ll make a mess…
And then Yor is leaning against him, in his arms, rocking against him as she cums between them. Loid feels her shaking, shuddering into the crook of his neck, whimpering.
Loid moves his hand to her back, stroking her up and down his spine, trying to soothe her as he comes down from the high.
“...Are— Are you alright?” he asks.
“Y-yes. More than—”
Suddenly she pulls back and crashes their lips together, smiling against his skin.
“Oh, that was— so good, Loid! I could go again!”
Loid just chuckles, slumping bonelessly against her. “Easy for you to say.”
Yor sits up. “W-what?”
He swallows thickly. “Well, women are known to…ah, recover quite quickly from…So…”
There’s a twinkle in her eyes; he’s not sure about this.
“Well,” she starts, “We can certainly try again!”
Chapter 6: office sex; facefucking
Summary:
Yor needs to get some work done at the office. Loid helps.
Chapter Text
006: risk
“I have some…forms to finish filling out,” she tells him matter-of-factly. She’s not looking at him directly, but she’s already got one hand in his hair, fingers threaded between the golden locks, rubbing circles into his scalp. It’s close, but not too close; like she’s trying to keep him there, to keep that distance between them — still, in spite of everything now.
“Then I won’t disturb you,” he replies quietly from under her work desk, pressing a kiss to the inside of her leg.
She ignores him as best as she can. He continues; stroking the backs of her stockinged legs, kissing gently as he wends his way up. He usually means to start off slow, but inevitably…he skips over the suspender belt to milk-white skin; begins teasing at the hem of her lace panties.
They’re not supposed to be here, really, he thinks. But, she had told him, between them, there’s never a moment to stop. Never a moment to have to themselves. They both know this is risky business, but…everything they do incurs a risk one way or another, so what is one more, really?
The pen scratches against paper; she rolls her hips. An invitation.
Loid presses his fingers against her.
“Stop,” she orders, tugging on his hair.
“Too much?” he asks, pulling off her.
“N-no. No ,” she says more firmly, setting down her pen and looking properly at him. She’s frowning. “In fact, it’s not enough.”
The streetlights from outside spill into the dark office. The light makes him seem so cold and indiscriminate, but Yor knows…knows his expression is anything but.
“ Fine ,” he says and he yanks her stockings and panties down to her ankles.
“...How’s that?” he asks, so gentle in contrast.
She doesn’t answer him. Not directly, judging by the sharp intake of breath as she signs off on a document.
So he grabs her by the hips and presses his face against her wet heat. And that first touch of his tongue feels hot, so hot , against her. He flattens his tongue and begins licking broad strips up and down her pussy, dragging his tongue till he feels her tug on his hair again.
“Mmm…” she moans; the pen falls with a clatter.
He presses further in, mouth capturing her labia, sucking on them, stretching them out between his lips. His tongue just teases her entrance.
“Like that!” she hisses.
But Loid just pulls off her, so that she’s left bucking her hips up to nothing.
“We’re only starting,” he says quietly, gently, though still using her words against her.
He closes his mouth around her.
Yor tenses all up for him, her work all but abandoned.
Loid swirls his tongue around her, teasing a little lower before coming back up to flick a little at her clit. She’s shaking now, gripping the armrests so tight she might just snap them, and he— He just carries on. Takes as much of her in as he possibly can. His nose tickles against that beautiful dark mound of her pubic hair, with his tongue laying claim — clit; labia; pussy; all so wet for him — to it all. And he hums contentedly — smugly — as he does it, the vibrations going straight—
“— There! ” comes her voice, a sharp hiss, cutting the air.
Loid hums once more. All the while he licks, laves, and lavishes her with attention, till he feels her shudder above him, till he hears that low moan. He knows what it means. But he won’t stop (and she knows it).
His tongue dives in, teasing her opening, before he withdraws momentarily with a grin and dives in again. Yor can only gasp as she feels warmth pooling inside her. And oh — how she clenches her legs around his shoulders and steadies her hands in his hair. His hands, in turn, grasp at the backs of her thighs, nails digging in, marking her. They both know he shouldn’t do it — yet she lets him anyway, because, she wants—
“More,” Yor breathes. “Give me more .”
Loid grins against her; pulls back a little to look up at her again.
Now he’s the one who pauses. To take stock; to reflect; and to consider how…her hand trails down his cheekbone to feel the evening stubble form along his jawline. Her thumb gently strokes the corner of his mouth, coaxing him into a smile.
The streetlights catch him again, and then he’s giving her more . So much more. He spits in her hole and licks it up, before his tongue is in her and it’s so hot – so wet, it’s so filthy, yet she can’t stop begging for more of him in her. All she can do is squeeze her eyes shut, tighten her hold on him; feel all of him in her.
“Please,” she breathes out, tipping her head back, whimpering; her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Please…”
He doesn’t answer.
“ Please ,” she repeats.
He responds this time, only pressing something against her clit and— Yor opens her eyes; Loid has brought out their vibrator! And it’s on her, and—
“Oh god ,” she gasps, shuddering as Loid keeps his mouth on her, tongue fucking in and out of her. She rolls her hips and—
In that moment, Yor snaps . She smacks the vibrator out of his hands; grabs him by the hair, immobilising him, keeping him there, and she— she fucks him.
It takes him by surprise at first, but there’s no denying it: he enjoys it when he gets her to her breaking point. When she’s no longer so…caught up in herself, in how she ought to act; how she ought to behave as a good Ostanian woman. In fact, he’d almost — selfishly — say he prefers her like this. Prefers when she fucks him good, gliding her sopping wet pussy in and out of his mouth, dragging over the roughness of his tongue, with her wetness dripping onto his chin.
So he just lets her; lets her use him like no one else would. Lets her fuck him till she cums and he can taste her on him. He licks it all up after, too, leaving nothing to waste by the time Yor finally lets go.
…She sits back down properly, but she doesn’t readjust her clothing. Though she does put her legs on his shoulders; keeps a hand at his hair, steadying them both. And she picks up the pen again.
Loid relaxes his shoulders.
They’ll stay here, until she’s done.
With him.
Chapter 7: overstimulation and sweet aftercare!
Summary:
Loid gets a little overstimulated and they indulge in some much-needed aftercare.
Notes:
…Should I be working on my dissertation instead of writing Loid/Yor? Yes.
Am I working on my dissertation? …Actually, yes, but! These two have overtaken my brain this evening!
Now enjoy!
Chapter Text
007: healing through you
…And for a moment — bliss . Just for a moment; he didn’t think. Didn’t have to, not when everything was crystal clear like this. Pure white, the sparks dancing behind his eyes as he thrust against the mattress and buried his face into the pillow, moaning, keening into her touch.
And still, she worked his cock and balls, milked him dry, till he had nothing left. Even then she persisted, until he truly had nothing left to give, nothing more than the dry sobs that racked his body and her name on his lips as she kissed him everywhere she could, pressed against him…
“I… I enjoyed that,” he tells her afterwards, when everything round about is quiet and they’re nestled in between the bed sheets. “Even though it was more for you than for me.”
Yor tenses up in his arms.
“I don’t mean it in the way you think,” he tells her quietly, reassuringly, with burning lips pressed against burning skin. “Not in a bad way.”
She hums, a little unsure, uncertain, in that way he’s become familiar with.
“And you don’t need to explain it, either; I understand.”
“...Oh, well,” she starts, “It’s— it’s nothing really, only a…”
She purses her lips, trying to find the right words to settle on (always trying to, for they never come easily, especially not around him).
“A bad day at work?” he supplies, helpfully, for the words come so easily — almost too easily — to him.
“Y-yes. Something like that.”
He smiles. “Then you know I am all too happy to be…of service.”
“To be serviced?” she prompts and they giggle between them.
“Of course. As is my duty to you, as a good husband.”
She giggles again, threading their fingers together and drawing him closer to her. Loid hums, thoughtfully. A tune, off-key; an old folk song from the West. One she wouldn’t be familiar with; one she’d ask him about; one that would threaten to expose him—
He dampens the thoughts. Part of his job entails letting down his guard from time to time.
But sometimes — just sometimes — he’d like to do it without having to think about it.
…He picks up the tune again. And his lips find her skin again; he kisses her shoulder.
She hums now too, the tone rising and falling; inhale and exhale.
“That’s nice,” she says.
“It is?”
“Yes.”
Sharp inhale. She closes her eyes. He doesn’t; always the observer. He kisses her again. Once, twice, and there’s a melody she’s humming. Not one he recognises, probably from the northeast.
“...And what about you, Loid?” she asks a moment later, turning her head just a little to face him.
“What about me?” he asks.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes,” he says, shifting a little. “I think so.”
“...Good. That’s— yes. I’m glad.”
He smiles against her skin. “Good.”
And she settles down.
“More than good, even,” he murmurs, pressing his knee between her legs and she lets him, inhaling sharply. They both know it won’t go further than this for now, but still it’s…nice. More than nice, he thinks as he kisses her again, and her hand — entwined with his hips — guides him further up…
Loid grins.
“...Another go?”
She turns to face him again and there it is — that glint in her eyes; the need for more .
“Yes,” she replies and he laughs gently as he rolls on top of her.
Another go it is, then.
Chapter 8: bath sex; multiple orgasms; role reversal
Summary:
Loid thoroughly spoils his wife, only to finds himself on the receiving end.
Notes:
Well, I finally finished my dissertation (and with it, my degree oOF) and so here I am again, with more of these two >:) This is a continuation of the previous chapter!
Chapter Text
008: can't stop hungering
Another round (or two) later, and they’re still lying together, entangled in each other’s arms and the sheets. And she would quite happily stay here with him, if he hadn’t suggested that “a bath is in order,” murmuring the words against her skin, the tiredness in his voice suggesting a similar reluctance to get up.
Yor swallows. “And some tea too.”
“Yes…what kind?”
“Um, something herbal.”
“Chamomile. It’ll help us sleep.”
Sleep doesn’t come easy to either of them, Yor remembers; they are…night owls. And early birds. Day larks, too. All sorts of birds which Anya has taught them about, thrusting the picture book in their faces while they role-play ‘School’ on the living room carpet as dinner cooks in the oven and the little girl demands their full attention.
Nevertheless, Loid then wonders aloud — as he rises and slips on his silk dressing gown and she loses sight of his beautiful naked form: “There should be enough left in the tea caddy…I’ll call you when it’s all ready.”
“Hm,” she answers, not quite listening as she draws the bedsheets closer to her. She’s…far too comfortable already here — and comfort is a dangerous thing, her mind tells her; it does little to sharpen the mind, to sharpen the blade she has curled around her nimble fingers, ready to strike—
“Bath’s ready,” he calls out not a moment too soon and, with a grumble, she slips on her own gown, and steps out into the darkness of the hallway. She spots a dim light coming from a crack under the bathroom door and Yor moves towards it.
She pushes open the door to find… candles on the counters and the smell of incense wafting in the air.
Yor gasps softly. H-how had he managed this? And in such a short span of time?!
She hears him padding in behind her, setting down mugs of tea and…then his hands are at her shoulders. Yor shivers as he kisses a trail down her neck and…slips the silk gown off her, so that she’s left naked before him again.
“Water’ll get cold,” he just says, taking off his own gown and stepping in.
She joins him, only too readily, slotting herself in between his legs, her back at his chest. His arms encircle hers and in his hand, she realises, he’s holding…
“Is that a ball?”
“No. It’s called a bath bomb.”
“A bomb?! We’d better get out, before we end up in an explosion!” she exclaims, gripping the sides of the tub.
Loid chuckles. “Just watch,” he tells her soothingly.
He drops in the bomb and it bursts open to reveal red rose petals, encircling them as the bomb dissolves into a kaleidoscope of colours and then…nothing.
“Oh…” she whispers.
Then he gathers her hair to one side, leaving her neck exposed so he can press a kiss to her jugular vein.
Yor shudders. But it’s not just her, she realises, as Loid has come to a complete stop.
Yor turns her head back to face him.
“W– What is it?”
Loid clears his throat; but the blush on his face said it all really. “Your back muscles…they’re, ah, very well-defined.”
“O-oh. Well. At my last job I used to do a lot of heavy lifting.”
“Ah. Before you used to give massages?”
“Ah! Well— sometimes I had to do both.”
“I see,” Loid says. It makes sense, he thinks to himself. “Of course, I’d imagine you had to lift some of your clients.”
“I-In a sense, yes…”
She becomes aware of how his hand wanders, unthinkingly, to her upper back. Does he know? The thought crosses her mind as he starts to rub circles. He can’t — he must not — she thinks, but it’s futile to go over the subject in her head. Not with this unexpected and most welcome touch.
Loid presses a kiss to her shoulder. Until now, she hadn’t realised just how…tense she’d become over these last few weeks (and is it any wonder?). In no time, his hands are soon all over her; cupping her tits, squeezing her belly, and…then, between her legs, tracing circles over her sensitive overworked clit.
“Oh Loid!” she hisses out sharply, even a little exasperatedly.
He slides a finger in her and Yor closes her eyes tight-shut and tips her head back, giving in to the pleasure. A second finger and he’s pressing into her more, she realises, getting hard again and…
Yor responds to this, rolling her hips a little, teasingly, so that his cock is trapped between her buttocks, so that he can do nothing but lean forward with her and moan against her skin. She lifts herself up a little in the water, pussy lips dragging over the length of his cock. Even in the cool water, she’s feverishly hot and she knows her chest has become flushed. As Loid grinds against her slick wetness, the heat deep within her burns anew. And it aches— aches for more .
Yor plunges down on his cock.
Water sloshes over the sides of the bathtub. Like this, Loid can’t move; she’s immobilised him. He’s buried deep inside her (again, as if he hadn’t already been for the better part of the night). By now, she can feel his frustration, his cock throbbing in her cunt, begging for relief as he furiously works her swollen clit.
She could, of course, move her hips for him, or ride him with a force that would create a small tsunami in the bathtub. But no . Yor just lets the heat and pressure build up in her, until it gives away. Until Loid cums in her again.
“...All alright?” she checks a moment later, surprised that he had anything left to give.
“Yes…” Loid breathes out, adding:
“But we completely forgot about the tea!”
Chapter 9: car sex!
Summary:
“Show me, Yor, what you want,” he says.
Show me how much you’ve missed me. He wants to say.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
009: camouflage
He parks on the fifth floor of the multi-story car park, in a far corner where the light doesn’t reach. Then he pulls the handbrake and kills the engine.
Yor looks at him. Loid looks back at her. Then she kisses him hard and fierce, in a way that he’s not accustomed to with her, pulling at his tie so he’s even closer to her, so that she can get at him all at once.
“I missed you,” Yor tells him.
He picks up on this with a playful smile.
“Ah, you did?” he queries, pecking her on the lips chastely.
“I did.”
It’s been a long week and he’s been away for most of it — “Late night shifts at the hospital,” he’d telephone home to say and, with Anya away at ski camp, she’s been bored stupid without him. Now, away from an office full of paperwork and endless cups of tea and coffee, she’s got him all to herself. Her hands, always so fidgety, always wanting to be kept busy are moving with him. At his tie, and then down his shoulders, to his front, leaving goosebumps on his skin underneath.
“I couldn’t tell,” he teases, before she slips her tongue in his mouth and he moans into her touch. He’s…missed this too. And it has been a long week; the stakeouts Sylvia had sent him on had yielded no results for his mission, only fruitless, pointless dead-ends, cold coffees and colder car seats.
Yor tugs him at the suit lapels and then, quite without warning, she climbs on top of him and into his lap. He responds in kind; reclines the seat back and she falls with him.
“Um…”
Yor bites on her lip; straightening up to survey the scene before her (the scene that she has made; set in motion).
“Yes?” he prompts, softly, a coaxing hand firmly on her stockinged mid-thigh. Yes…that’s right; he’s got her hand on her. And she’s towering over him, straddling either side of him on the car seat. Like this, she feels positively powerful, even if her voice wavers.
“Well, um, Camilla suggested it one time and I thought—!” She swallows hard; he’s not moving and somehow that makes it worse . “I thought I’d give it a try. You know, um, just to see. Not like this exactly. Probably on the sofa but—”
“I do see,” he tells her. Then he leans in, his breath ghosting over her ear. He nips at the shell of her ear. “But you know that’s not enough.”
“No?”
“ No , show me. Show me, Yor, what you want.” Show me how much you’ve missed me. He wants to say. He could do, but then Yor’s fidgeting again, distracting him as she rocks a little against him (and he knows she’s not being coy about it).
“Well, if you say so…” she says.
She pulls up her skirt, and Loid’s bloodshot eyes fly wide open. Curse him for not realising that, beyond her stockings that end at the mid-thigh and those garters — oh , those garters — she’s wearing nothing underneath.
And she’s dripping wet.
“Do you see now, Loid?”
“...I do.”
She leans in close to him, shielding him from that delectable view with the weight of her soft, pillowy tits pressing against him.
“I’ve been so lonely all week,” she whispers. It’s her turn to nip at his earlobe and Loid shivers delightfully.
“And, and —” she continues, her voice syrup-sweet as a drink laced with poison, “I couldn’t sleep last night without you in bed, so I— I had to go to work like this.”
There it is.
The fatal blow.
Loid grips at her hips insistently.
“In the back, Yor,” he tells her. “Get in the back now.”
They rather gracelessly clamber into the backseat. Now, she’s lying underneath him, and he’s bearing down on her with his full weight, hips pressing insistently against her. Yor gasps at the touch; at the feel of him growing hard in his pants. She wraps her legs around him, pulling him into a deeper kiss.
Loid groans. Bracing himself with one hand on the seat, his other goes to undo the belt buckle. Her hands slip between them in the gap, joining him with that same impatient, feverish desire, working the zip.
“ Please ,” she whispers, breaking the kiss.
He rolls his hips in response, so that she tips her head back in a frustrated moan, and responds in kind. Two could play at this game, Loid thinks as shoves down his trousers to his mid-thigh and—
Tap tap!
They jump apart, immediately turning to the source of the sound:
A dark figure, silhouetted against the window, moving slowly. Loid’s hand slips into his suit jacket (unbeknownst to him, Yor’s own hand has now slipped under her skirt…) There is rustling from outside; like a certain someone rummaging through a paper bag to get at the last roasted peanuts. Loid’s eyes dart up and the blood runs cold in his veins — he’s left an open gap in the window. And through the gap…the intruder slides through a thick brown manila envelope.
Loid has seconds to register this before he hears something click and the car door is wrenched open—!
“ Franky !”
…Franky pokes his curly head through.
“Oh!” he starts, looking between the disshevelled wide-eyed pair of them, pushing his glasses up his face. “I was wondering why it was so foggy here! Anyway, about the papers, Loid; sorry, I couldn’t get ‘em to you earlier at the office. But make sure you take a look when you’re free, huh?” he says casually.
He’s not even embarrassed at having caught them in flagrante, let alone ashamed of his own brazenness! Instead Franky just leans back, bracing himself on the edge of the car door.
“Well now, I won’t keep you. You two have a nice night!” he says, slamming the car door shut behind him. From the rear-view mirror, Loid catches Franky winking before he slinks off into the night.
Then he slumps forward with a groan, muffling his face into the crook of Yor’s neck. How embarrassing . With gritted teeth, he has half a mind to go after Franky, to threaten him that he’ll patronize another kiosk from now on, but he knows Franky will just dig a hand in his ribs, clap him on the back and tell him “Come on, Old Boy Franky’s seen it all before!”. What’s worse is he knows he would have nothing to say to that.
“Loid?”
“Hmm…”
He nuzzles further into her neck, smelling sweet rose perfume.
“ Loid .”
Her hand is in his hair, and she tugs at the locks a little so that he’s made to look up at her bashful face in the dim light.
“Do you, um, want to continue here?”
Loid considers this with a hand mindlessly snaking up her thigh.
“No,” he says, stopping at the hem of her skirt. “I think we’d better continue this at home.”
She giggles. “Yes, I think so too.”
Then she kisses him on the nose.
“So come on, Mr Forger, take me home.”
Notes:
Frankyyyyy my man showed up (and cockblocked them ripp)!
Chapter 10: Eden AU: first times, mutual masturbation
Summary:
“We could watch each other, um, do it?”
“Right —it would help us learn from each other!”
Notes:
Eden AU time (inspired by twiyor base's Eden AU event this very weekend)!!
also you may have noticed I wrote a first times prompt already in chapter 5, but then I was like...I want to write these two fumbling around like the young(er!) people they could never be and then whoopsie my hand slipped and i wrote a lot :')) so enjoy!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
010: oh this little eden of ours
Yor’s kissing the corner of Loid’s pretty mouth when he suggests it to her, softly, confidently, with a hand up her blouse.
“Shall we try tonight?”
Yor pulls back, when a firework goes off in the square outside, bathing the boxy, boyish bedroom in its bright red haze. The bedroom he’s snuck her into a few times already, when his Dad’s definitely not at home; out of town at some business meeting thing (she still doesn’t know what he does!).
“Try?” She asks.
His warm, bare leg brushes against hers. They’re sitting cross-legged, opposite each other on Loid’s bed that’s a little too small for the both of them, pushed up against the wall with its yellowed fading wallpaper and his posters of maps, spy thriller films, and the jazz musicians du jour (a Westalian word she learnt) with their huge brass ensembles.
She’s never seen him in shorts before, until this summer.
She’s not seen a lot of things, until this summer (this summer they both turned eighteen and graduated from the academy). He looks good in shorts; the way they hug his slim waist, and taper off, ending at his mid-thigh, showing off his toned legs. Toned legs she absentmindedly strokes.
“I— I don’t think I’m ready. I want to! I really do! But…”
His hand finds hers; squeezes it.
“If you don’t want to, we don’t have to. It’s okay. We can do something else.”
Something else. She wants to do something for him; doesn’t want to leave him hanging.
They hear the delightful screams and shouts in the square below; the loud smooth jazz playing on someone’s radio. Come on, Yor, she tells herself.
“I— I want to celebrate this moment. Us ,” she emphasises, looking at him; his fluffy blond hair which has grown long over the summer so that it now covers his eyebrows, the soft creases of his eyelids, the nervous excitement in his still-deepening voice and on his pretty-pink lips.
“Only if you’re sure,” he says.
“I am,” Yor answers. She’s never been so sure of anything than at this moment. She’s never wanted to kiss him as much as now, to touch him so much, to make him feel good. Her hands snake up his thighs as their lips meet again. As she deepens the kiss, her tongue slipping into his mouth, she leans into him so close she’s now sitting up on her knees.
“We could watch each other?” he suggests.
“We could!”
He nods in red-faced agreement. “It would help us learn from each other!”
“Yes! It’s like taking reference photos, only, um, not quite the same.”
“Yes, exactly! That way we don’t need to rush!”
That’s right; there’s no need for them to rush, not tonight of all nights. Not on…the first day of the rest of their lives.
He shifts underneath her, sitting up.
“How should we go about this?”
He sits up, but then his feet are dangling off the edge of the bed. They’ll need to grab the pillows too! Or, perhaps she can hook one leg over like this? No, because she’ll get a cramp. How about this way? Oh, and d’you want to leave the window open?
They eventually settle on a position; his straight back against the wall, legs bent at the knee and spread wide apart so that it makes it easy for her to come and kneel between them, where…she towers over him, blushing bright-red, pulse pounding in her ears.
“You get to have control like this,” he tells her. “Tell me and we can stop whenever you want.”
She nods. They’re back to kissing, slow hands exploring each other’s bodies; nudging at each other’s clothes. He starts to undo the bone-white buttons of her blouse, as she tugs at the hem of his navy polo shirt.
They separate for a moment as she shrugs hers off and he pulls off his shirt, and their clothes are consigned to the floor.
They look at each other in all their half-naked glory.
Yor remembers the first time she saw him topless; at swim training, when he’d just transferred to Eden. The first time she’d noticed him at all, really; this tall, thin lad, with just a hint of musculature on his frame. How she’d gone home that day, and rifled through her biology textbook to find out how many muscles were in the human body (six hundred!).
It’s so silly to think about now! But hey…she’d still managed to bag him! He’d noticed her too and picked her over all the other girls at school!
He’s her boyfriend! And her boyfriend’s hands are gingerly at her waist.
“C-Can I see?”
She frowns, confused, as the question just begins to form on her lips: See what–?
He gestures at her decolletage.
— Oh.
Oh .
“Of course!” she squeaks out, feeling very silly. Of course he can , she thinks as she pulls her shoulders back to unhook the plain black bra
When the straps slope off her shoulders, his mouth literally drops open at the sight; his eyes growing wide.
“Yor…”
…She folds her arms over her chest and ducks her head, deliberately looking between them (not at him).
“...It’s not what you expected, is it?” she prompts, quietly.
“Huh? No, no! I mean — yes! I mean…Yor, you’re so beautiful .”
“...Oh.”
She’s not heard that before! Ever. For a moment, she stupidly doubts the words, but it’s when she lifts her head, that she knows…he’s being honest with her, because he’s still looking at her like she’s come out of a painting, because there are sparks dancing in his bright blue eyes when he asks her if he can, um, touch them.
“Y-you can,” she starts, ducking to give him a kiss on his cheek. “But wouldn’t it be better if you just watched? That’s…that’s the plan, right?”
“...You’re right, I hadn’t thought of that!”
He’s still holding her waist, anchoring her. Yor lets her arms drop to her sides; lets him have a good look, even though…she knows it’s not perfect. Her chest is nothing like some of the girls she’d seen in the changing rooms after volleyball practice or when she’d stumbled across glossy page-spreads in magazines! One boob is bigger than the other, and she’s got a mole above her right nipple, not to mention the long, thin scar that goes down the middle…
“So beautiful…” Loid repeats, as if to ignore all that, as if there are no other words in the Ostanian language. “So, so…pretty.”
He leans in to kiss her collarbone chastely. The hefty weight of her chest presses against his flat one, sending that bright surge of electric excitement rushing through them both. He kisses a trail up her neck and pauses, here, he sucks a bruising mark into her skin. There, she nibbles at his earlobe.
Her hand cups the bulge in his shorts and he moans into her mouth.
“Yor…”
“Show me,” she says, kissing him.
It seems he can’t wait to! Loid scrambles to pop the button and yank his shorts and boxers down.
Her mouth goes dry when his cock springs free, flushed and half-hard with arousal. Already like this, she can tell he’s…um, big! Or rather, she thinks he is because she’s never seen one in person before! And certainly not this close to her!
He smiles, seeming a little embarrassed with himself till she distracts him with more kisses, distracts him while she lifts her hips to pull off her panties and—
His hand finds her wrist; halts her.
“Keep the skirt on. I— I’ve…dreamt of this.”
“ Dreamt ?”
“Y-yes,” — his face turns an adorable shade of red — “I, um, dreamt you were on top, exactly like this and…um, you were…moving against me.”
She rolls her hips a little.
His breath catches in his throat. “Just like that…”
Yor lifts up her skirt.
“Oh, Yor, fuck… ” he swears. “Show me, please, I want…to see how you do it.”
He watches as she holds her skirt in one hand as her other slips down. With nimble fingers, she deftly — unashamedly — part her folds, dips down and—
He looks at her right in the eyes as she bites her lip, blushing at him. She’s so wet for him. She easily slips her middle finger in, before drawing it back up over her glistening clit. Then she slips two fingers in. It sounds obscenely filthy to her, but he’s loving it.
“Yor…” he whines, thrusting into his own fist, hips canting as she fingers herself for him. “You’re so pretty…”
Neither of them last long at all after that, especially because Loid never tears his eyes away from her; thinking that if he blinks, this delectable sight will be gone. Yor pays close attention to him — she’s got to learn from him too, of course! — to how he strokes himself slowly (because anymore than that and he’ll be a goner!), how he’s pushing his cock up into his hand, and when he gets even more excited, he starts pumping his cock faster, sliding the foreskin over the head again and again, thrusting up against the side of her leg.
She slips three fingers in just as he tugs on his balls, reduced now to begging her to go faster, I want to see you, Yor, please, cum for me—
He cums first, all over her skirt; as Yor keeps rubbing her clit, breath quickening as she feels the white-hot pressure building in her core, until it all feels a bit too much, until she’s a shuddering, breathless mess above him.
He has to catch her to stop her from losing her balance as she collapses into his arms, crashing their lips together. They’re grinning, giggling as they try to catch their breath and what the hell, that was so fun, so good, so so so —
He grabs hold of her and pushes them both down gently into the mattress.
Then, Loid is kissing her softly on her lips, when…
when a firework goes off in the square, bathing the room in its bright green glow…
when the kids outside are screeching, chasing each other with sparklers…
when people are shouting from the rooftops…
The war is over.
…The war is finally over.
Notes:
the war is over :')))) love wins hehe
also, i will be posting more regular weekly updates again on wkends for kinktober season so keep ur eyes peeled for that !!
Chapter 11: twilight/thorn princess; pegging
Summary:
Twilight gets PEGGED!
Notes:
Weehee starting Kinktober off with a BANG! Hope we're all strapped ON! >:)))
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
011: brief encounter
Twilight stepped over the body in the hallway, coming to a stop in front of a heavy, reinforced door. The acrid smell of gunpowder lingered in the air and the residue remained on his fingertips. He had not done well to cover his traces this time. He hadn’t last time either, in the grain warehouse in Southern Todz. The fact was he was getting sloppier — and Handler certainly was not going to be satisfied with this one.
But he didn’t care, grasping the door knob with a gloved hand. No need for a pincode, he noted (so, clearly the premises were not as secure as he’d been led to believe), as he stepped inside, before his eyes caught a sudden flash of movement and—
He was shoved up against the wall with a heavy hand at his shoulder, threatening dislocation if he dared to move, and… a stiletto pressed against his throat. It glinted, gold in the pale moonlight.
Now, any sane man would balk at being held at knife-point; would call out for help, might sink down to his hands and knees as he would certainly plead: “oh, please, I have a wife and children at home—!”
…Twilight merely smiled, his tense shoulders relaxing.
“Been a while since we last saw each other, hasn’t it?” he said by way of greeting.
The Thorn Princess gave him a once-over with her sharp red eyes: the gun in his suit pocket, the dagger stashed in his sock, the pillbox in his trouser pocket.
“...Three weeks,” she answered coolly, sheathing her stilettos (he felt…honoured by this gesture). “In West Berlint.”
“Ah yes, after the murder of The Doctor,” he said, as she stepped away from him, her heels clicking on the heavy oak floors.
It was an ugly room, just like many other luxury hotel suites they had found themselves in. It was decked out in purple velvet with gold facades and mismatching, uncomfortable furnishings. Its only saving grace was the large bed in the centre of the room.
He watched her as she ran a hand over the plush quilt.
“I never had the opportunity to thank you,” she said.
Twilight’s eyes narrowed.
“...What for?”
She cast him a glance. “For choosing to look the other way,” she said.
Pale moonlight spilled into the room from the open curtains, offering them a view of Berlint in all its nighttime glory (the harsh searchlights from the watchtowers; the TV tower with its blinking red light; the blocks of highrise flats in the suburbs).
Twilight drew closer to her.
“...Our interests were mutual in that regard,” he said. “Project Apple was—”
He stopped himself. They were not here to ‘talk shop’, as it were.
“Regardless,” she began quietly. “I am… glad it is over.”
She was now pressed against him. Her hand snaked up his front; he felt it bunch up in his suit lapel—
She tugged him down, crashing their lips together.
Twilight groaned at the sudden contact. Despite his training, he forgot, every time, that they didn’t do soft and sweet kisses. Or soft and sweet anything for that matter. If he’d learnt anything in the last year of their... mutual arrangement — since that fateful first meeting in the Hall of Mirrors in the SSS Headquarters late at night — it was that the Thorn Princess got what she wanted. And she got it now .
She shoved him down onto the bed, straddling him. He groaned as she started to rock against his groin. Her smooth, manicured fingers made quick-sharp work of his shirt buttons, as though she were merely rifling through case files, trying to locate the one she needed to take back to The Shop—
“ Princess ,” he moaned as she applied more pressure and he felt the heat pool down below. Her hands started to map out the familiar ripples in his pale skin, the small ridges and bumps that made up old scars and new blemishes. Twilight shuddered at the touch; funny to think these were the same hands that, mere moments ago, had snapped a man’s neck and killed him (still lying there in the hallway outside).
Twilight pulled himself up to a seated position. He felt her legs wrap around his midsection, just as his own hands — rough; calloused by years of fieldwork — began to trail up her broad back, dancing along the black satin. There was an easy routine, a rhythm that came with this, as though they'd been engaged in this for years, as though they knew each other inside out in the way that only long-time — perhaps even married — lovers knew.
He located the zip and pulled it down, with his other hand yanking down the shoulder straps of her dress. His mouth immediately closed on one of her nipples, teeth nipping at it gently as his hand mindlessly palmed and pinched her other breast. The Thorn Princess inhaled sharply, and Twilight relished in the way she tugged at his hair, coaxing him further. So he nipped and sucked a little longer, until she pressed against him again and pulled back.
He ceded control as she moved to undo his belt between them and then stepped back off the bed — he groaned a little at the loss of touch — to tug his trousers off.
She raised her eyebrows.
“Ah, you’re…”
A smirk played up his lips. “What can I say? I am, by nature, prepared for every occasion.”
…So was she, he realised as his eyes followed her as she silently crossed the suite to retrieve a black leather bag.
“I assume then—”
“Yes?”
“—That you’re prepared for this?”
She pulled out a black dildo; girthy and flared at the base with a matching harness. She also grabbed a bottle of lube.
His cock twitched. But instead of returning to bed, she made him watch her get ready. Made him watch as she pulled off her lace panties and cast them aside. Made him watch as her fingers slid down to her soaking wet pussy and she started to touch herself. When she brought her fingers up to her lips and sucked on them, Twilight could do nothing ; do nothing but thrust needily into the air. So close and yet so far.
The Thorn Princess wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not yet. He needed to learn to be patient .
She released her fingers with a wet pop and hummed to herself as she went about her preparations. She did not acknowledge him once. Not when he moaned as she slid the dildo through the ring. Not when his hand reached out for her as she drew closer to him at the edge of the bed and he stroked her thigh as she fitted the harness around her hips. Not until she had lubed up the dildo, did she meet his eyes again.
“...Ready?” she asked, giving the dildo a few pumps.
He answered her by beckoning her back to the bed.
“Take me,” he growled, voice low in his throat.
She moved to straddle him again. This time, Twilight was all too aware of the wet heat resting just above his cock. His hands dug into her hips, his teeth grazed her collarbone, and she let out a soft sigh.
He’d found a chink in the armour, and closed the gap with a searing kiss, pulling them both down.
“I want to see you this time,” he said.
The Thorn Princess didn’t say anything to this. Instead, she meets him right where he wants her. Her hands prised his knees further apart, and then, leaning forward — with the head of dildo just pushing against him — she whispered;
“Only you would wish to face Death head-on.”
“Yeah?” he prompted, spreading his legs a little wider, hands supporting the backs of his thighs.
“Yes, and—”
“ Fuck !”
She entered him. A stream of swears escaped Twilight’s lips as he felt her fill him completely. It had taken such little effort (he had, after all, prepared himself well ).
And then she began to move; grabbing him, marking him, her nails digging into the sensitive skin, scratching him up. She fucked him good, fucked him hard and fast. Faster and faster , the bed shuddering so violently that it might just break on them.
The bedposts snapped just as Twilight came, embarrassingly quick — by his measure — under her ministrations.
She didn’t let up though, thrusting into him, sliding her hand between them to work his neglected cock and balls, milking him dry till he had nothing left. Even then she persisted, until he truly had nothing left to give…
For a moment afterwards, he didn’t have any thoughts. Nothing came to mind, nothing about himself, his mission, his duty. Everything felt pure white, the sparks dancing behind his eyes.
Then he felt the mattress dip as she rose. He heard her soft footfalls, the door closing, the running tap…
Twilight rolled over onto his stomach. Suddenly he became aware of the sticky, cooling cum; the stale taste in his mouth; and the fact that…they didn’t do ‘soft and sweet’ things.
It was inevitable, really, in his line of work. This was…information exchange of a sort. One he would continue to rely on, for as long he needed to.
“Same time…next time?” he called out.
She didn’t need to give him an answer from the bathroom.
But he knew, one way or another, it would come.
Notes:
wanted to try out a different scenario with twilight/thorn princess as like?? colleagues/semi-rivals with benefits and this is what ya get hehe! also, i should point out this is the…3rd? Time i've written him getting pegged and ya know what, he deserves it >:))
Chapter 12: soft body worship; scars
Summary:
“tonight is about you.”
Notes:
This one's for knockoutmouse and the inherent intimacy of scars!
And just a note that this does contain spoilers for Chapter 62 (discussions of Loid's past)!
And weeee new season is out >:))
Chapter Text
012: slow hands
with her fingers, yor traced a line in his skin, over the raised, superficial criss-crossing veins on the inside of his forearm, making the thin fine hair stand up on end. it was as though she were marking a line in soft sand. curving as she reached his inner elbow, like this, she traced a boundary, a new frontier, one which she was just about to cross:
“I know you don’t like to talk about them.”
“but you’d like to know.”
“yes.”
loid — or twilight — dropped his head back on the soft, too-soft and too-perfumed pillow, and stared up at the pitch-blackness of the ceiling.
where to begin? and, more to the point, what and how much would he tell her? he thought of this as though, thirty minutes ago, they hadn’t stood in the shower together, under the steaming hot tap, silent as sentinels as she’d gently massaged the shampoo into his scalp, and he had gingerly soaped up her body, as the blood mixed with the water and ran down into the drain. and later, out of the medicine cabinet, they had taken out bottles of brilliant green iodine and plasters with frogs on them. they dressed each other’s fresh wounds, and tended to the older ones which were still healing with antiseptic and ointment.
she could’ve brought it up while they had been in there, under the harsh glow of the white, almost blinding white, fluorescent bathroom light. the light made his skin look so horridly pale and ashen; made her look washed-out. and in such artificial sterility as in there, they could scrutinise each other more closely. like doctors tending to patients, they could interrogate each other on this one and that one, trying to pick off the scabs, and peel them off to see what lay underneath.
what lay underneath all the lies and deceit?
how much of it was real?
how much of it was true ?
instead, she chose to ask him here, as they lay together semi-naked in the cool darkness of the back bedroom. the windows had been shuttered and the thick curtains completely drawn. although it was raining outside — a soft, constant pitter-patter since the afternoon — he could try and pretend that nothing extended beyond these four walls. that there was no one but themselves in this world.
in the pitch-black, yor operated on feeling alone. she ran her finger around the perimeter of the plaster she’d just stuck on his inner elbow. he didn’t tell her that it itched, itched like he’d just been for a blood test.
…she didn’t linger, however, winding her way up his bicep to crest the top of his shoulder, and dipping down into his collarbone.
he winced; she stalled.
“just an old fracture.”
her touch was unbelievably light now as she traced the length of bone. her hand dropped lower. on his chest now, pressed against his sternum. his breath wouldn’t even out, he realised. she shifted a little, to the left — so that he was sure she could feel his heart beat beneath his rib cage, so that she could catch how it quickened.
“and what’s that one from?” she asks, as she lightly presses against what he knew to be an old scar on his left side.
“a piece of shrapnel,” he answered. “from when I was a boy, caught up in the war.”
“the war,” she echoed softly.
and then she apologised.
“what for?”
“for what you had to go through—”
“but I made it out,” he interrupted. “others weren’t so lucky. others suffered much worse than I did.”
“I know,” she said, “I know. but that doesn’t lessen the pain, does it?”
twilight didn’t say anything for a long time, and yor didn’t press him. she never did; Yor didn’t expect anything; she wanted for nothing. in that sense, she was not like most people who he’d brought to bed. those who ran their hands over the grooves, the old marks and the raised flesh. the smitten girls, who thought that they could ‘fix’ what was broken in him (he’d just have been a proxy for what was hurting inside them) or the painfully shy young men who thought that this counted as some form of understanding themselves, their bodies, and their own pain and pleasure.
maybe it did help them. but they never asked him, and so twilight had never indulged them. he wouldn’t have allowed them to go beyond what’s on the surface, in any case. and besides, he had...other specific priorities in mind.
but with yor? that code had been broken long before he’d told her ‘who’ and ‘what’ he was.
he spoke into the darkness:
“I am…scared, Yor. she shouldn’t have to go through what we went through. she shouldn’t be made to do…blast drills and air raid drills at school and,” he paused, swallowing thickly. “ she shouldn’t have to lose her family and friends, either.”
in the darkness he turned to her: “my mother died then. my old schoolmates too.”
she touched his face gingerly.
“oh loid.” she whispered.
there was nothing she could say.
there was nothing she needed to say.
with her thumb, she wiped off the tears on his cheeks with practised ease.
“i’m sorry,” she said, again, before she gathered him up in her arms and drew her close to him. she squeezed him tight, his head buried in her chest. so tight, he felt like he were being crushed. so tight, he could hardly breathe.
but it was exactly what he needed (needed to feel alive; needed so as not to fade into a flashback). when she loosened her hold a moment later, she still kept him close. she kissed his hair, and he wrapped his arms around her too.
with his fingers dancing along her spine, he began to mark his own line in the sand.
“you can ask if you want,” she said quietly.
“do you want me to?”
he didn’t need light to know she was worrying at her lip.
“another time then,” she answered. “tonight is about you.”
tonight was about him .
so he let her go and rolled onto his back.
he soon felt the weight of her on top of him, felt her bearing down on him, and then…she was kissing him. her lips were so soft, so gentle, gliding over his. she kissed him slowly once, twice, and her tongue swiped his lower lip.
his hands settled at her wide hips, fingers teasing the hem of her panties. he could have easily allowed this turn into something else; a distraction.
but not tonight.
tonight twilight surrendered himself to her completely.
he let yor push him down into the pillows and, with one hand pinning his wrist, she held him down as she kissed him again, on the lips, on his cheek, down to his jaw at the spot where he’d nicked himself with a razor while shaving the other week.
she slid further down his body. she kissed him in all the places he would never have allowed anyone else near. all the ugly, gnarled parts of him, which had been bruised, battered and remade. all renewed, under her touch. the old collarbone fracture, the shrapnel wound at his side, and the bullet scar in his left thigh.
she kissed him just below his belly button, and just above the waistband of his boxers.
then, she stopped. she let go of his wrist. she came back up for air.
they shifted again between them in the darkness.
and now, with his head on her chest, listening to her heart beat solidly in her rib cage, twilight realised he’d not known such peace and comfort in years. not since he was little. and even then it had been hard to come by. certainly now, he couldn’t be sure whether peace would come, despite his efforts.
but here, in yor’s arms in the cool darkness of the back bedroom, with the soft constant pitter-patter of rain, he could at least pretend for a while that he knew what it felt like.
just for a little while.
Chapter 13: cockwarming!
Summary:
baby it’s cold outside (so come inside me)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
013: blush to the snow
Outside is a barren place. Barren and cold. A wasteland.
In here, it’s…not much better. Yor draws her shoulders up and shivers, trying to rearrange herself amidst the tangle of bedsheets and limbs, before poking her head up the covers — like a soldier popping his head over the parapet — and being so assaulted by the cold air that—
Achoo!
From the other side of the bed, an arm immediately reaches for her and touches her gingerly, before suddenly retracting.
“Yor? You’re freezing .”
Yor buries her head in the pillows.
“Mm…s’cold…”
“You should’ve said sooner,” her husband admonishes gently as he rubs at her arm vigorously, trying to generate some heat.
“Mm. I know, but…”
“Do you want me to make you some tea? Warm milk? Lemon and honey?”
“No, no! I just want...”
She mumbles out something he doesn’t catch, muffled between the sheets.
“...Hm?”
“I want… you inside me.”
“... Oh .”
He instinctively draws himself close to her. He nips at her earlobe, pressing himself flush against her. Her hair tickles his nose; she smells of rosehip and hibiscus. Yor, for her part, buries her face further into the sheets, shying away from him, shying away from the knowledge that…he’s come to know her so well, as to anticipate her actions and thoughts; that she doesn’t need to voice anything, in fact.
“...Of course,” he says, voice rumbling deep in his chest. Anything for her, anything at all.
She arches her back, pressing her ass against him, keening into his touch. His hand soon slips down between her legs, fingers curling inwards…
That draws a gasp from Yor and Loid groans, burying his head in her neck, nipping and kissing: despite the absolute chill to her skin, she is so incredibly warm here. So inviting. His fingers glide up and down her slick wetness before he enters her.
One finger. Two. Three. Yor melts into his touch so easily, so readily.
She gasps when he slips inside, half-hard, and yet filling her so completely.
“Y-yes, just like that, yes…” she croons. “Oh, Loid…Will you stay like this for me, please?”
“Yes…” he breathes out, relaxing his tense muscles, softening their texture.
Loid doesn’t move; just settles there. He feels her tighten around him, drawing out his pleasure, prolonging it. And…he takes his cue; yields to her, his hips flush against her, his hold firm. His hand starts to rub circles on her belly, thumb running along the grooves of stretch marks and faded scars. He kisses her shoulder, the chill burning on his lips.
Little by little, though, he feels her warming to him. Like the warmth of a fire, with the way it curls up inside him, settling deep and keeping him anchored. The flames flicker, with a sort of lazy calmness that matches how she turns to meet him for another tender kiss.
And all is lost to the cold and the dark; his release comes, spilling deep into her, eked out by the steady rocking of her hips. Yor strokes his thigh, fingers brushing against the thin fine hairs standing on end.
He doesn’t pull out. Her hand, steady at his thigh, gently squeezing the flesh, tells him as much. Asks him to stay .
Outside, it’s a barren world. A cold war, simmering in the snow. But in here? In here, entangled in the sheets, the spectre of sleep looming over them, their bodies remain together. He keeps her warm.
And in turn…she, too, keeps him warm.
Notes:
inspired to write this bc its getting fucking cOLD here (in the northern hemisphere) again (and to procrastinate my grad school work shhh)
btw, in a devation from my established weekend uploads, there'll be a special prompt out on halloween (tuesday 31st) so look out for that!! what could it possibly be? why, you'll just have to wait and see! >:))
Chapter 14: maid outfit!Loid part one
Summary:
Loid in a maid outfit (need I say more)!!!
Notes:
weeheee halloween special! >:)))
for fletch, mahoney, julphines and literally anyone else in the wise HQ discord server, to whom i credit for the idea AND some of the descriptions in this prompt!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
014: pièce de résistance
It was his own fault — he’d instigated this. He’d chosen to.
He’d come up with an absolutely pathetic excuse for when she’d stepped into the kitchen too, still clutching at her purse and set of house keys, frozen in the doorway to see him, all tarted up in a little Franconian maid ensemble; the housemaid, awaiting his hardworking mistress at the end of another long day.
“Everything else is in the laundry,” he’d said nonchalantly, just bending so slightly over as he dried his hands on a tea towel. “So…this was all that’s left in the closet.”
He wasn’t even sure Yor had been listening, never mind whether she’d believed what he was saying, for she took two steps towards him and pressed her body against his, pinning him to the kitchen counter. Loid gasped at the contact; shivered delightfully when Yor nipped at his earlobe.
Her hands travelled south. Loid gripped the marble edges as he let a shuddering breath pass through his lips as he tried, desperately, to not absolutely lose his composure.
“I just want to make sure…” Yor began as she felt him up, palming his cock through the dress — the dress which barely reached his mid-thigh — purring as she felt she felt him respond to her touch, pre-cum leaking just a little. Her hand traced back up the shaft.
Then she stopped.
She smiled against his skin.
“...Good girl,” she said.
Loid shivered as she ran a thumb over the ridge of the cock ring.
“You told me to,” he said.
“...I did.”
She’d ordered him to keep it on all day, on the condition he didn’t touch himself. Yor did things like that; purposely involving him in tasks like this. In the mornings, he’d rise before her, already in his slutty little maid outfit. He’d help her get dressed, slipping a silk nightgown off her broad muscular shoulders and exchanging it for a lacy bra and silk blouse. In the late nights, he’d run her a bath, complete with foam, salts and petals, and, instead of letting him join her, Yor would make him sit on the stool by the tub to watch. When she washed herself, her hands slipping under the water and between her legs, Loid would cross one smooth leg over the other. He resisted the temptation. He had to.
Sometimes, the candlelight caught the red nail polish on his toes and Yor would narrow her eyes at the sight, stalling her movements. She might tell him it’s inappropriate for a lady’s maid to decorate herself in such a manner. Herself — when Loid first heard that, he nearly creamed himself. And she, always the observer, took notice.
…Yor dragged her hand up the dress, so that it now rode up Loid’s narrow waist. He pressed his legs together.
“ No ,” she admonished, ever so gently pushing them apart. “I want to see… Yes…”
He arched his back reflexively, showing off a beautiful black lace thong etched with little roses and thorns.
His darling, daring wife said nothing to this, only her hands slid down further, now firmly anchored at his hips. A moment of anticipation. He focused on his breathing.
Inhale.
She cupped his ass.
Exhale.
She prised his buttocks apart; even she couldn’t resist moaning when she exposed his pretty pink hole, barely covered by the pathetic strip of fabric. She jiggled his cheeks, tugged them, nails digging into the skin enough to bruise. Her sharp teeth nipped at his earlobe again and he yelped, jolting forward.
“...May I?” she asked finally.
He swallowed thickly, keening into her touch.
“Please.”
Her hands slid under the thong. It almost seemed a shame, really, to rid him of it soon, she thought as she continued to kiss him, sucking a mark into the sensitive skin of his neck, just below where she knew his lab coat collar would come to rest.
“ Please… ” he repeated, whining.
She stalled.
“Please what?”
“Please…milady.”
“Good girl,” she said.
Then she dropped to her knees.
Notes:
>;)))
Chapter 15: maid outfit!Loid part two
Summary:
MORE Loid in a maid outfit!!!
Notes:
this is, of course, a direct continuation of the last prompt so dig in!
Chapter Text
015: force de résistance
The first touch of her tongue on him was… electrifying, sending a jolt up his spine.
“Oh—!”
Yor focused in on that tight heat, massaging it with her tongue, swirling it around and tasting him. Loid’s body jerked with each and every new movement, causing him to plant his ass right into her face.
And Yor was only too happy to oblige him, sloppily kissing him around the rim, working him open, reducing him to a total mess. She wanted to ruin him; in the way that one sees something so delightful, so beautiful, so cute, and the way in which one is so filled with violence as a result.
“Yor, please, I want—”
He couldn’t finish before he felt hot breath right up against his slick rim. Loid let loose a whine. Nothing else could compare to this as he rocked against her while she was savouring him.
“Yor…”
And she was ignoring him.
“Yor, please,” he repeated.
Or rather, she was ignoring him when he called to her like this.
And, in truth…In truth he didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t want this to end, really, but, oh, it was bordering on unbearable. This, coming from one who had been subjected to Sylvia’s brutal training regime, to being tied up in warehouses in strange so-called ‘third-world’ states, miles away from ‘home’, to…whatever.
Throughout, her hands skimmed his body under the dress, grabbing as much of him as she could; staking her claim, pinching, squeezing and tugging but always, always neglecting him where he needed it the most…until she dug her nails into his asscheeks and–
“Oh, milady!”
Choked, dry sobs escaped him as he finally, finally felt his mistress’s tight grip on his cock. Those damned skilled fingers rubbed at the head, and her thumb traced sloppy circles against the tip and slit, leaving Loid breathless and begging for release. Then her hand slid down and…
“Oh, fuck !”
The cock ring fell to the floor with a clatter and she immediately planted her face in his ass. He had no time to react, as she fucked his tight little hole and pumped his cock through the thong. He would cum so quickly, so pathetically like this and he would have no one to blame but himself.
And that’s exactly what he did, as soon as she gave him the slightest hint of a reprieve before she was sucking on his balls, gently pulling them in her mouth, as he came on her fingers and she smeared his release all over his pathetic cock. Marking him.
Then, once she was quite finished, Yor dragged her hand slowly up, pressed a little against his gaping hole, before she brought her fingers up for him to suck on – to clean up. She had made sure she knew his place, after all; watched him closely as he did so.
This wasn’t the first time he’d been made to clean up after his mess, after all. Naughty girl, she’d admonish him, as he did so, keenly aware of how his spent girlcock would twitch in response and yet, pathetically, could offer her nothing else for the time being.
…He’d served her alright, though; buried his face between her legs, tongue slipping deep within her as he cleaned her up — it was a real privilege and an honour to do so, too. Or leaving a trail of kisses down to her chest when she’d tit-fucked him on his birthday. One time she made him clean up the mess he’d made on the parquet; face down, ass up. Hers for the taking…
Once he’d finished, letting go of her middle finger with a soft wet pop, Yor said nothing. She didn’t let him turn around either when she withdrew to wash her hands. He dared not look back at her, either — determined not to repeat how Orpheus had looked back to see Eurydice.
Had it been a loss in faith?
Or had it been…out of love?
A desire for that one last look…
“You’re hiding something from me,” she whispered.
Cold hands on his hips.
Like ice down his spine.
“Ah, milady…?” he prompted, only to be met by feverishly hot lips against his neck again. Suddenly, those hands were elsewhere; cresting the tops of shoulders as she proceeded to undo the straps, letting the dress fall to his waist and…
She exposed the matching lace bra.
“Oh, that’s it…” he heard her murmur.
He watched, mesmerised, as she cupped his chest, thumbs tracing lines in the roses and thorns, skimming over his hard nipples…
“...You have been a bad girl, haven’t you?”
He arched his back; bit his lip. “Oh… yes…”
“In fact…”
She pinched his nipples.
“...I think this bad girl needs to be taught another lesson, hm?”
A ragged gasp torn asunder. The bra unhooked. A hand at his back, pushing him down into the cold marble, so that it cut against his nipples.
Yes…Loid thought…
He was such a bad girl.
Just for her.
Chapter 16: Xmas special: lingerie, toys and mirrors!
Summary:
Loid and Yor exchange sexy gifts for each other! >:))
Notes:
Happy holidays! It’s my birthday today hehe so it still counts as the holiday season! >:)) And it's a long one for a change so, enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
016: cherry coloured
Yor catches him in a quiet innocuous moment, once Anya’s been put to bed – in her new special Bondman Christmas pyjama set and with her new storybook about the Spy who Saved Christmas – and he’s washing the rest of the dishes that couldn’t fit in the dishwasher, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“...Hello, you,” she greets him, wrapping her arms around his middle, pressing her cheek into the soft knit of his Christmas jumper.
“Hello to you, too,” Loid greets, voice rumbling deep within him; steadfast and solid…comforting to her.
“Are you nearly done?”
He sets his soapy hands around the edge of the sink; ears pricking up.
“I can be. Why?”
Leaning up to kiss him on the cheek, Yor adds, “Hm, no reason, only— well, I left you a present in the room.”
“O-oh?” he prompts, turning around.
But Yor just presses her finger to her lips and giggles.
“…You’ll just need to wait and see! When you’re finished in here, of course, and, um, do knock please before you come in!”
She dispatches him with another kiss,
Curious and curiouser. Come to think of it, she’s been really rather affectionate today. That’s not to say she never is, when they’re behind closed doors, but today has certainly been an exception. Whether that’s due to the general festive cheer or, perhaps, the bottle of Merlot she and Yuri dispensed with earlier — “a real Franconian luxury wine, I’ll have ya know, Lottie! You can’t get them so easily unless you work for the ministry!” — he’s…certainly not going to complain.
So Loid finishes up as quick as he can and, trying not to seem too keen, he tiptoes stealthily down the hallway all the way to the back of the flat. It’s one of those instances he is actually glad they put out the lovey-dovey bedspread in advance, still trying to keep up appearances (even though they’re fooling no one; absolutely least of all themselves).
Loid draws his hand up to knock softly twice.
“...Yor?”
He hears a rustling sound but, thankfully, nothing anywhere near a frightful crash-bang-wallop.
“Oh, yes, yes, ready! Come in!”
He turns the handle. The door is unlocked. He enters.
The first thing he notices is the way the light spills out onto him, flooding him and bathing the rest of the room with warm lamplight and flickering red candles. Cautiously, he puts one socked foot out into a puddle of light. Looking down he sees a trail of dried red roses — from the pot he’d gifted her at the beginning of the month — inviting him to draw his gaze upwards to find…
Her.
She is sat in the centre of the bed. Her bare legs are folded underneath her thighs, and she’s wearing only a red lace bra and thong set. Her arms are crossed over her front as if to hide herself away in the shadows, to make herself unknown. Yet, still, she possesses that quiet measure of boldness, evident in her relaxed shoulders and her bright eyes which follow him as he slowly makes his way up to her.
“D-Do you like it?” she asks, shyly, shattering that illusion.
“Like it?” he echoes, swallowing thickly. “No, Yor, I— I love it.”
“You do ?”
He leans in to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. As he does so, he presses a kiss to the shell of her ear.
“I do.”
She guides him to kiss her and he does, his lips sliding softly against hers, the taste of wine and chocolate melding between them. Yor sighs quietly.
“I’m so glad…to hear it. I— wasn’t sure when Camilla and Sharon helped me pick it out so...”
He kisses her again.
“You wouldn’t have done this if you hadn’t been sure.”
“True.”
“Or…were you?”
They part.
“Perhaps,” she answers.
Yor leans back, her arms sliding back with her so that she’s propped up on her elbows. He joins her on the bed. When he presses his knees into her thighs so that she opens herself up for him like a flower, she falls back onto the pillows with a giggle which makes him pause, just to…look at her.
“What?” she prompts.
“Nothing, only…You have such, um, lovely eyes. And full lips. High cheekbones…” he remarks, the words tumbling out of his mouth as she pushes back a forelock of his hair, only for it to fall forward again.
It’s all superficial, he wants to tell himself; all a part of the game. But this? This is no game. This – the feeling of lace and silk beneath his rough fingertips —is real. She is real, and the blood rushing south is very much real.
“You make me sound like a model,” she comments. “When I’m not.”
“And who said you couldn’t be? Aren’t you modelling for me right now?”
She draws her knees up to her chest, hiding herself.
“Putting yourself on display like this — is that not modelling? Just showing me for the fun of it? Or—”
His hand draws up her smooth strong thigh.
“--Or is it because you want this?”
He cups her between her legs and she inhales sharply.
“...Wet already, hm?”
He starts to rub her against the fabric, and when his finger just presses in, she whimpers.
He withdraws, smiling.
“I forgot to mention as well that I had prepared a gift for you too.”
Keen with interest, Yor drops her legs as she watches as his hand slips into the nightstand drawer and he pulls out an oddly-shaped wrapped object.
He sets it down before her, between her spread legs.
“Open it.”
Yor takes the present into her lap, and starts unwrapping it gingerly. From the shape, she’s got no idea what it could be. Not that she had any expectations, but:
A wand-shaped vibrator now sits in her lap.
Yor looks up, wide-eyed.
“Where did you get this? Loid! I thought only in the West…”
“Oh, I have my ways,” he says, leaning in to kiss her again.
(He neglects to mention the hefty sum he paid Franky to keep his trap shut, in addition to the few tweaks to the, ah, object).
Then Loid takes the toy from her. He presses at the base and the vibrator hums; he presses harder and it shudders .
“Of course,” he says, “We don’t have to use it tonight, but—”
Yor yanks him down by the shirt collar and kisses and nips him in the juncture between neck and shoulder. Loid moans, and then some, as she moves up his neck, nipping and licking. She feels his hand glide along and up her thigh again, and leans in further to nip his earlobe.
Loid groans and, suddenly, the vibrator is pressed against her clit and—
“Feel good?” he teases and Yor tries to bite back the moan. It is obscene, that he is still fully clothed and she is reduced to such— such —
“You can take back control anytime,” he says, the pressure constant against her. “Unless…”
She bats away the vibrator and kisses him hard . They move further up the bed, him shedding clothes along the way.
“...You can do whatever you like with me, my dear Mr Forger. Have your way with me,” she says.
Now they sit upright, with Loid propped up against the pillows and Yor between his legs, her back to his chest. He holds her firmly by the shoulders, directing her to face the full length mirror by the door.
Yor turns back.
“No. Look at yourself,” he murmurs; takes her by the shoulders again and, this time, Yor looks up to meet herself.
She pushes down the tingling feeling in her tummy and takes up the toy in hand.
“...Go on,” Loid urges.
It occurs to her, in that moment, that she’s never really regarded herself like this before. An object of desire. Something to be wanted. But if not for herself, then it’s obvious that…he wants her. She’ll do this for him.
…Yor brings the toy to her clit and turns it on. It’s just set on a low hum, as she moves it up and down— and it feels good . Very good. Her free hand slides down a little further, and she easily slides one finger inside her. Another soon follows, and she rolls her hips, moaning.
Her gaze remains steady on him — rather than herself — in the mirror, his chin resting on her shoulder which he occasionally kisses; watches him panting, his eyes trained on her movements. Not for very long though, as Yor pulls out and brings her fingers up to suck on them. That low groan again from him, as she rolls her hips, the toy still thrumming against her clit. She hums a little before releasing the fingers with a wet pop.
“Now it’s your turn,” she says.
He shoves aside the thin fabric and plunges his fingers into her, wasting no time working them in and out of her, watching her pant heavily as she keeps the toy going. Loid follows up with a third finger, plunging deep in her, and Yor arches forward, moaning. Only for Loid to withdraw, so that she just clenches around nothing .
She whimpers in frustration, reaching back with her free hand to try and take him in hand.
He lets out a breathy laugh, dodging her manoeuvre.
“I know, love, I know…”
Yor sits up on her knees and, through the mirror, she watches him get ready behind her, biting her lip at the sight of him working his cock as he puts the condom on. She shifts back into place as well when his hands find her waist.
“...Ready,” he says.
She sinks down on him, throwing her head back and moaning at the delightful feeling of him filling her up. He does not stay there long at all, beginning to move in shallow thrusts.
Yor turns the vibrator back on. She lets out a choked gasp as she moves her hips too.
This time, she takes a proper look at herself properly in the mirror. Her jaw drops open at the sight; straddling her husband on the bed, legs spread wide apart to accommodate him as he’s slowly and deliberately thrusting up into her. She can’t see his face — obscured as he is by her back but that just makes it even more tantalising.
She sees his hands — always those hands — roaming her body, squeezing one of her breasts. She increases the vibrator strength while he’s at it and, between that, and the way he quickens his pace; how he fucks into her—
“Do not stop, Loid,” she orders .
She feels the pressure build deep inside her, the heat pooling in her core. She ups the ante once more — the vibrator on its highest setting — and she is gone .
But she doesn’t let herself go. At least, not before she suddenly whips around and, with him still inside her, she presses the vibrator against his abdomen, just hovering above his cock.
It takes no time at all. Loid crumples . He thrusts, weakly, almost lazily, as he empties out what little he has left in him.
Then, only then, does she collapse against him, the vibrator lying abandoned beside them.
…The weight of her on top of him. The tacky feeling of sweaty skin. The warmth from her body and the dim candlelight. How relaxed he feels with her in his arms. The feeling somehow does not dissipate when he pulls out and dispenses with the condom. Nor does it when he starts to nip at her skin, almost humming to himself. Now, only now, does he allow himself to undo the clasps of her delightful outfit. Only now does he unwrap his gift, taking his sweet quiet time as he does so…
“...Did you enjoy that?” she asks, when they’re flipped around again, her hair fanned out on the pillow.
“...I did,” he says, before his mouth closes around and sucks on her breast, looking at her through half-lidded eyes.
With the way she grabs his hair and moans, he knows…
He need not ask her the same.
Notes:
And, if you'd like to read another hot Xmassy smutfic, I have one here with Yor thirsting over her shirtless husband as he tries to make a cake!
Chapter 17: loid solo: fantasies
Summary:
he would do anything for her
Notes:
back again >:)) sort of companion piece to lovestruck!
Chapter Text
017: oblivion
When he has a moment, he thinks, not of what is to come and what will be: plans, timetables, or tests. Letters to be intercepted. Documents to be received. Plots to be foiled.
Rather, he thinks about the things he shouldn’t. In places he shouldn’t. Thinks of Her, in inns in border towns, where he’s been dispatched by Sylvia to retrieve something; in the middle of the afternoon on a tram in Prahaj, when he catches a glimpse of long black hair fluttering in the breeze; and…here, in the dead of the night in Berlint, in the back bedroom of the apartment when she’s just one door down.
He thinks about her, perhaps because…he shouldn’t. He’s not supposed to have such frivolous attachments. They’re only brought together by circumstance; they’ll part soon enough, as is always the case, and he ought to be accustomed to it. He’s been here before too; men and women, they’re all the same to him. A kiss here; a hand there, pushing the envelope a little, before he gets what he needs.
But… she offers him nothing like that. They had been brought together by circumstance – by sheer coincidence, too, perhaps, although it’s a very different sort of…transaction. Certainly when everything he’d experienced up to this point had been in-and-out, quick and dirty, a flash in the pan. Twilight has never had to…go much further than this, to forge something (somewhat) meaningful. With anyone, anywhere.
With her, however, with her…
He thinks of her hair flowing in the sea breeze as she hangs onto her hat. Her silly, sappy, and tired smile when she holds her mug of cocoa, thinking of nothing in particular. The heavy weight of her head on his shoulder on the subway line back home.
Still, he thinks of her. More than that, even. He dreams . Dreams of her, in the dead of night, left to his own devices and his own scheming imagination.
He shouldn’t.
He does it anyway. Tells himself that, by indulging in the what-ifs and hypotheticals, in doing so, he’s creating contingency plans, preparing for what will come to pass.
But how would such a scenario arise?
What would that look like?
Where to begin?
With…meetings in aisles. Kisses stolen in the hallways. Hands bunched up in lapels, desperate. A push, which comes to shove, pinned against a wall, falling back onto a mattress or slammed against a table, papers shoved aside. Knees between legs, creating a little space. Hot mouth on hot skin on a hot day. Biting; nipping, tugging.
He takes himself in hand; allows himself to groan into the pillow as he indulges these very thoughts.
…Her small, strong hands, stroking his thighs, working up to his cock and balls. Her on top of him, biting her lip shyly even as she leans forward, moaning on his cock as she rides him furiously without hesitation. Afterwards, she would leave lipstick-red kisses onto his pale skin like she’s sending him off with a love letter. He would want her to mark him and make him her own, to covet, till death to them part.
Or…perhaps he’d grab her by her hands and turn her around; back her against the kitchen counter and have his way with her as she would want him to. He’d rip off her tights and plant his face between her legs until she squeals in delight, her hand bunched up in his hair, not letting go, never letting go…
Or would she be up for something a little…more? Would she like to be cuffed to the bedposts? Or tied up with pretty red ribbons like a gift for him to unwrap at his leisure?
He stalls a moment, and considers how even this…activity is a pointless exercise. Dangerous. Does nothing to sharpen the mind. He’s avoided it as often as he’s needed to; avoided giving into such base desires. To be a spy is to lose oneself, sure, but not in this manner.
And who is to say she would reciprocate at all?
Yet he would do anything for her. Be anyone for her. Slip on another disguise. Take on another identity. He’d drown his beliefs for her, holding them down till no more bubbles rose to the surface; as if he hadn’t already drowned at sea, been declared missing or killed in action. All those names and faces that he’d so readily discarded and adopted, they would become meaningful under her gaze and touch; through her lips, breathing a little life into him… Through all of that, she would remake him; rebuild him from the ground up, into a man with purpose.
…And when the inevitable comes, when the tie that binds them must be severed and he must plunge into that icy ravine below, and she should dare to ask, levelling her gaze with his:
“Did any of what we did — what we had — mean anything to you?”
He would answer:
“Yes . For you and because of you? Always, yes.”
He would answer this even if she has the knife pressed against his throat, or has him blindfolded, his hands tied behind his back. Totally powerless.
And perhaps that’s what he wants — to no longer be the one yielding power. Wants her to be the one to undo the blindfold; let the cloth fall between them. Let the walls they’ve built up come tumbling down.
Right.
Wrong.
Ostanian.
Westalian.
Patriot.
Traitor .
Twilight grips the sheets. He is a fool. Committing the cardinal sin. A fool for letting himself believe. Believe that she could ever want him. Believe the rise and fall of his chest, the quickening of his breath, the warmth that spreads over him.
But there it is; she has possessed him. She has taken him.
By God, she takes him, as Loid lets go and—
Loses himself to oblivion.
Chapter 18: heatwaves, ice cubes, temperature play!
Summary:
ice ice babyyy
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
018: melt
That day, the heat was stifling. In the morning, Yor had stepped onto the balcony to water the plants when the radio announced it was the beginning of what would be the worst heat wave since records began in Ostania. She hadn’t quite believed it then; of course, she had been trained to withstand much hotter temperatures than this.
But here she was, reduced to a puddle in the sticky humid furnace that was the late afternoon, sprawled out on the bed which had been stripped back, dressed in, well, practically, nothing and drifting in and out of fitful sleep. It was pathetic really – entirely unbecoming of the Thorn Princess! She, who could leave a man dangling on the edge of life and death with a simple jab of an ice pick, who could crawl through red-hot lasers to her target, who could, well, would cascade down a volcano to save her daughter or brother from the jaws of whatever assailant was there—
“...Yor?” Loid called out, the front door clicking shut.
“Ah — I’m in here!”
She could hear him set his keys down, pulling off his shoes, padding down the hallway to the sound of her voice, could almost hear him hovering outside the bedroom door, his hand poised to knock.
“Is everything alright?" he began, over-worried as ever. "You haven’t caught a heatstroke, have you? Because we can call up the doctor and—"
“No, no, just — come in !” she even surprised herself with the exasperated tone she said those words in.
But it was certainly he who would be surprised by the sight before him as he mindlessly loosened his tie: Yor, in nothing but the skimpy black bikini – it was the only thing that would keep her cool! — she’d surprised him with the summer before. Her hair was up in a high ponytail and her glossy lips were parted ever so slightly. His eyes were practically raking over her body. Yor pushed herself back against the pillows as he came closer, accentuating the arch in her back so that her tits, barely covered by the strip of fabric as they were, were on full display.
“I’m so…hot. I can’t do anything like this,” she said, stating the very obvious.
“You, ah— you certainly look it. How long have you been like this?” he asked, as the concern in his tone gave way to something a little…more as he came into her space.
“Nearly all day,” she answered.
His hand slipped under the bikini top, so that his thumb rubbed against her nipple and she whined.
Loid’s tongue darted out to wet his lips.
“Need to cool you down."
“Y-yes…” she whimpered, collapsing against the pillows.
❄️
He returned in no time with a glassful of ice cubes. He set it down on the nightstand, and Yor did not know where to look between him shucking off his shirt and slacks, his…cheeky gaze steady with hers, or the bright little beads of condensation forming on the glass, breaking free, trickling down the sides…
“Loid…” she huffed.
Loid rejoined her on the bed, towering over her, his boxer briefs doing nothing to hide his delightful bulge, which she tried so hard to ignore, as she moved to push back his fringe, to be the one to tug on his hair, to bring him closer to her.
“You’re so…hot…” she whispered.
“Hah. I’m terribly sorry,” he quipped. He didn’t wait for an answer; reached over to pop a cube in his mouth and…
“Oh! So cold…” she hissed.
“Too much?”
“Mm…” She shook her head, letting herself be kissed again. She opened her mouth a little more when he swiped his tongue against her bottom lip, the cube sliding between them, meltwater trickling down her neck and chest.
“Mm– Oh!”
He pressed another cube against her sharp collarbone, gliding over the flimsy straps, which he undid with ridiculous ease, exposing her tits, squeezing them in his cold palms, that delicious tug of pain coursing through her.
“More…” she whined. His cold tongue flicked, sucked and swirled around her perky pink nipple, and she yelped.
More , she wanted– needed more. Her hands clung to his sides, her breathing growing quick and shallow, goosebumps dancing on her skin, as he glided the cube further downwards, tracing slow deliberate circles over her toned tummy, till it had fully melted on her belly button. He then brought his hand up and all she could do then was suck on his fingers, just trying to take some of that feverish heat away. Clothed in saliva, now, he drew them away, smirking at her.
“Here too?”
She could only nod in assent, biting her lip. Now, straddling her on either side, pinning her down between his strong toned thighs, she was helpless like this. Useless, as he pressed his hand against her bikini bottom, squeezing just as she closed her legs around him.
His thumb traced a line through the thin fabric, soaking wet with her arousal.
She whimpered under his touch, watching keenly as he reached over into the glass for the last cube. It was already melting in his fingers, just as she was melting for him. He brought it to his lips, sucking some of the water up, eyes never leaving hers, before he moved further downwards.
Yor drew in a sharp breath. Still, it didn’t prepare her for when his mouth closed around her clit, ice-cold tongue swirling around her, lapping up her sweet wetness. Her thighs closed around him as he cruelly, delightfully, teased her; ran the cube between her lips, meltwater dripping into her soaking wet cunt.
Then, all of a sudden, he stopped. Yor looked down at him, chest heaving, breath ragged. He had the cube just hovering there, so achingly close yet so far.
She opened her mouth, about to pose a question, only for Loid to shove the fabric to one side and slip it inside her. For a single second she felt nothing, numbed by the sheer cold. Till he slipped his fingers into her, “Loid, fuck, please, love, it’s—!”
His mouth closed around her again, as his fingers curled deep inside her, teasing that delightful spot that had her writhing against the bedsheets, thrusting her hips up, responding to his every touch. Too much. Too much of a good thing.
The white-hot tension coiled deep within her snapped, surging out from within her as she squirted into his waiting mouth. He rode out her delicious orgasm, drinking up all she had to offer him, and then cleaning up the mess she had made as she fell back on the pillows, trying to catch her breath, totally and utterly spent.
He emerged soon enough from between her legs, to just hover over her. He pushed a few dark strands of hair which had stuck to her tacky sweaty skin away from her face. By now, though, she glowed in the late, shuttered afternoon light. Then he reached for the glass, took in what little water was left in it and came to kiss her, sharing it between them.
“Mm…”
He chuckled as they parted, a line of spit still connecting them. “So needy.”
“Sorry! It’s just—!”
He said nothing, silencing her with another kiss, as their breath caught up with them, and a lazy roiling cool calm washed over them.
Notes:
those fucking heatwaves am i right!!!
Chapter 19: whipped cream!
Summary:
In which Yor is just sitting there, whipped cream on her titties…
Notes:
pls tell me you get the reference lmaooo
Chapter Text
019: so sweet
They’d gone out for dinner. It had been a cover, of course — each working their own targets (each commenting on them as the courses were served) — but a lovely dinner nonetheless. The food had been exquisite —an elaborate five course meal, with soups, salads, steaks, a refreshing sorbet as a palate cleanser, finished off with a selection of Nortikan cheeses.
And the company? Equally delightful; him gazing fondly at her and the tingly feeling she had in her tummy all evening, her nearly choking on her wine as he made a comment about her target, him staring straight down into his plate of food as, under the table, Yor’s heel traced up his leg…
Dinner aside, their mission had been a success and quickly dispatched with, such that it’s no wonder Yor collapses on the sofa when they get home, kicking off her heels.
“Cup of tea?” Loid — Twilight? she’s still working out what to call him — calls out from the kitchen.
“Oh, I can’t possibly fit anything else in!”
He chuckles. “Ah, that’s a shame — because I made us a little after-dinner treat.”
Yor pauses her fumbling with the bone-white buttons of her blouse.
“O-oh?”
“Would you like to try some?”
Yor considers this very briefly, rubbing her belly.
“It’s chocolate mousse with chantilly cream. A Franconian dessert,” he adds.
“O-oh! I didn’t know you could get it here!”
She hears the fridge door slam shut.
“Yes, it’s difficult to find, isn’t it? And permits to travel across are very difficult to obtain, of course…”
He comes into the living room, shirtsleeves rolled up, top button undone, carrying the silver tray with the tea service and two stem glasses.
“Anyway,” he says, after setting down the tray. He presses a cold stem glass and a small, silver dessert spoon in her hand. It’s a distraction tactic , her brain supplies in its heightened state. She quickly disregards the thought; in any case, it’s a welcome one.
“Go on,” he says, moving to sit beside her as he starts to pour the tea. “Go on, do try some. I’ll finish it if you can’t.”
She giggles at this as she digs out a nice hefty spoonful, the rich dark chocolate balanced perfectly on the spoon, the cream just threatening to topple over like one of Anya’s block towers before she puts it in her mouth. And—
It’s delicious . Light, airy, sweet but not too sweet, bitter but not too bitter either and just a treat .
“Mm…!”
Her eyes fly wide open.
“H-how? How are you so good at this!” she asks around another spoonful.
Loid laughs gently, placing a tea cup on her side of the table.
“I…ah, for a job I was on just after the war, I had to train as a patissier for a bit. I learnt a few things, naturally.”
This man! So full of mysteries!
“And, um, what was your favourite thing to make!” she prods him.
“This actually… was one of them.”
She swallows down a big mouthful.
“And I wanted to share it with you,” he says, reaching out as he playfully swipes a little cream off the corner of her lips and takes it for himself. And Yor just watches intently; his tongue darts out to lick it off his thumb and…
She drops mousse down her blouse.
Her eyes widen, horrified, as the apology already slips past her.
“Sorry, I— I’ve wasted it—!”
Only Loid just shakes his head easily — not exasperatedly; never that with her.
“Leave it,” he tells her. “I’ll…ah, I’ll get it.”
She sits there red-faced, spoon suspended mid-air, watching as he makes a move. This isn’t the first time this has happened and so she knows he’ll saunter to the kitchen or he’ll take a handkerchief from his pocket and clean her up…
He doesn’t.
He’s leaning in instead.
“...May I?” he asks and when she nods vigorously in response, he starts to undo the buttons she’d started on. He kisses a trail down her sternum, as his hands then trace up her back to undo the clasp, exposing her tits.
“There we are,” he tuts. “What a mess you’ve made.”
“I–”
His tongue darts out to catch the cream at the top of her breast.
“Oh that tickles!” she squeals, shivering.
He kisses his way down, to the dollop of chocolate on her nipple. One look up at her, and Yor already feels the hunger tug at her — as he licks it up before closing his mouth around her and suckling ever so softly.
She runs a hand through his hair, coaxing him as he swirls his tongue around her nipple, making sure every last bit is savoured.
He lets go of her with a light pop and she giggles, when she’s the one who has to reach out to snatch a little bit of cream at the corner of his mouth.
“It tastes better like this, doesn’t it?” she teases.
He hums, as he moves onto her other nipple. There’s hardly any cream on this one, but it doesn’t stop him from helping himself.
“You just wanted the excuse, didn’t you, darling? Oh! ”
He nips in response and she gasps as he pulls away.
She kisses him when he comes back up for air, tasting sweet perfection on her tongue, swiping at the little bit on the edge of his lip.
“I should make this more often then, hm?” he says, grinning.
“You should…”
Then she reaches for the stem glass, keeping her gaze trained on him, right between her legs.
Yor goes for seconds.
Chapter 20: body worship
Summary:
...He wasn’t a Godly man, but he would worship at this altar.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
020: breath of god in my mouth
Before him was a masterpiece. None else could compare, when he entered the room, to find her lying on her front, on the soft plush bed, on a mattress of silk, so that the paleness of her bare skin stood out against the deep blood-red, and the light glow from an oil lamp.
…He had of course seen women in various states of undress before. In magazines he’d found in bushes on the outskirts of towns reduced to rubble, in paintings in various European art galleries, and in forgettable bedrooms in foreign lands.
But here she was. She turned her head as he came in, to observe him just as he observed her. She stretched out her arms above her as she settled into place, so that he was treated to the most exquisite view. Her bare back — the light ripple of musculature that tantalised him, leading the eyes down to the two dimples, to her soft round ass that he would love to have his hands on, fingers digging into the flesh, spreading her open…
At this thought which she somehow must have heard, she stretched out her leg, affording him a tantalising delicious glimpse of her full bush and her strong thick thighs he would love to get suffocated in.
…He wasn’t a Godly man, and nor was this a Godly nation, but he would worship at this altar.
And when he came closer, she rolled a little to the side, and the light cut against the soft roundness of her full breasts, the taut firmness of her abs, the dips in her wide hips…
“What are you waiting for, darling?” she asked.
“What?” he echoed.
She sounded so far away, as though this was all unreal. All an exquisite dream. But if it was just a dream, it’s one he would gladly indulge in, because such luxuries were, after all, so rare.
“Come on,” she said, patting the chair next to her; an invitation (as if this weren’t enough of one).
He joined her. And just as he did so, she pulled the sheet up to barely cover her ankles. How modest, he thought, as he crossed his legs, if only to keep his infernal desire at bay, at least, for a little while…
Her hand came to rest on his knee, drawing innocuous little circles.
Then she looked at him, with ruby-red eyes, flushed cheeks and pretty pink lips, and said:
“...Draw me like one of your Westalian girls.”
Notes:
hAH! I've had this silly idea in my drafts for months now and now i've Got you! >:DD (and technically, i suppose, this is a form of sunday worship).
Chapter 21: a/b/o scent kink; shower sex; sloppy bjs
Summary:
His scent is overwhelming; the salty sweat, the remnants of his pine aftershave and deodorant. But it’s tainted. Mixed, with the spectators in the crowd, the other competitors…Fiona.
She needs to isolate it. Needs to mark him as hers.
Notes:
we're continuing the theme of jealous yor possessive of her hottie husband let's go!!
Chapter Text
021: break point
As soon as he’s home from the Campbelldon tournament, she drags him into the shower with him; backs him into the tiled shower wall and presses the near-full weight of her body against him. He’s still very much fully clothed; still in his tennis kit, and she is delightfully naked, dripping wet, her hair clinging to her shoulders.
“Y—” Loid starts, but she doesn’t even let him get a word in, kissing him searingly, pressing her chest against his. His heart beats fast still and she licks a strip up his throat along the jugular.
His scent is overwhelming; the salty sweat, the remnants of his pine aftershave and deodorant.
But it’s tainted. Mixed, with the spectators in the crowd, the other competitors…
Fiona.
It won’t do.
She needs to isolate it. Needs to mark him as hers.
She presses a knee between his legs and her hands work their way easily all over him, popping the buttons first off his polo shirt and then—
She tears off the fabric in two. She grabs his pecs and squeezes them, just as she loves when he does it to her and she flicks his nipples just so, leaving him gasping for breath more than the tennis matches had.
She kisses him of course, wet and sloppy, a trail of saliva, marking his neck, his collarbone, down his chest, his perky pink nipples.
Then she slides, inhaling deeply —
“Yor…yes…”
She kisses down his happy trail, stroking the backs of his tight thighs.
Here too she leaves open-mouthed kisses along the clothed outline of his excited cock, twitching just so between her hot lips.
She yanks his shorts down. Loid’s thick, dusky cock finally springs free, and Yor wastes no time taking him in her mouth. She licks a long thick strip from his balls up to the foreskin, savouring the taste of him on her tongue…
Before she takes him in her mouth completely, the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat, and Loid crumples.
“ Fuck .”
Yor is relentless from the get-go. She bobs up and down Loid’s length, as her skittish fingers trace his inner thighs and balls. A pinch here, a tug there, and Loid is…
Shuddering under her touch, was already shuddering, jutting his hips forward.
Yor pulls back, so that her lips are just loosely wrapped around the head of cock. She swirls her tongue around the head; runs it along the slit. His sweet scent is so, so much stronger now that it’s making her feel lightheaded, all flushed, white-hot on the inside.
She doesn’t just want him; she needs him.
She lets him go with a pop. But that doesn’t mean she’s done with him. Far from it, as she leaves a trail of hot wet kisses down his shaft. She pauses; lets her hot breath ghost over his balls.
“Yor—” he starts, the strain very evident in his voice and he practically yelps when she closes her mouth around them.
Her eyes slide shut as she savours him, sucking him ever so softly, pumping the shaft as a low guttural groan escapes him.
“Mm…you taste so good,” she gasps out. She’s pumping his cock, spreading slick and saliva along the shaft.
How must she look now? On her hands and knees for him, lips around her husband’s thick cock, her dark wet hair framing her face. So far from the image they’re trying to project; of the perfect, prude and proper Ostanian housewife.
And – not but — she loves it. Loves being here on her knees for him. The sense of power it gives and gifts her with. She is totally in control of him and he knows it, with the way he looks down at her so pleadingly, pretty lips parted just so as he steadies himself.
“I, ah, don’t know how much longer I can— Ah!”
“You’re so good,” she tells him. “So patient…”
He knows she can stop anytime. Leave him hanging on the edge, with nothing to show for it.
But she wants him just as much. Wants him to cum on her; in her; let her milk him, till she’s filled with nothing but him.
She takes him in completely again, letting him overpower her with his scent, letting him thrust weakly against her. Weak at first and then…his hands are tangled in her hair, tugging insistently, pushing her onto his cock. He fucks her pretty mouth and she takes it, moaning giddily. She smacks his ass and he whimpers as more of him enters her. More, more, give me more.
Then she releases him. Opens her mouth wide, expectantly, as he takes himself in hand fast and furious and he finishes on her. Hot spurts of cum splash on her face, in her mouth, on her tits and tummy. And she takes it; welcomes it, swallowing his release like its sweet nectar from the gods. Then she’s rubbing her tits, gathering up the cum and licking her fingers clean. She makes sure she licks and she cleans him up too, suckling the over sensitive tip as he shudders so deliciously against her touch.
She strokes the backs of his thighs; leaves kisses on the inside and upwards again. Up his happy trail, his bellybutton, his sternum, his neck, his flushed ears and rosy cheeks. She rises to her full height, wraps her arms around his neck, pressing their wet exhausted bodies together. And she kisses him deeply, suckling on his tongue, letting him taste himself on her.
She envelops him in her scent; salty sweat and sweet roses.
She relaxes.
…He's hers again.
Chapter 22: breeding kink
Summary:
Loid and Yor make a baby!
Notes:
Oh damn it's been a while huh? Well, I've finished grad school yippee and I'll be continuing to work on chapters over the coming months so I hope you stick around!
Chapter Text
022: we live in hope
They've both wanted this so badly, since the time she'd whispered softly to him in the kitchen, "I think…I think I might, truly, be in love with you," and, taking her hand, interlacing their fingers, he had replied, "And I…I know I am."
In that moment, everything had become crystal clear. Nothing was quite the same after that, and seeing that East-West negotiations were proceeding along, that Sylvia and the Storyteller were dialling back their assignments and watching Anya playing in Heide Park with smaller children in prams pushed around by governesses and nannies, they had wondered…what if…
She'd shown him the chart from the doctor. She took his hand and pressed it gingerly against her belly; felt him squeeze back just a little.
Then she leant up, on her tiptoes; kissed the shell of his ear. She told him, "Now. Now, we can try..."
…Now, Loid towers over her in the bed, as she slips her hands underneath his shirt, tracing the planes of muscle and the raised scar lines which run along the left side of his rib cage.
Loid kisses her hard, and she takes his tongue into her mouth, suckling on it gently, delighting in the groan that issues from him as, with her hand still on him, he quickly works his way out of his slacks and socks. She moans into his mouth when he joins her again, grinding his cock against her inner thigh.
They part with a string of saliva connecting them. From the light afforded by the street lamps, his eyes are ablaze. It's his signal, as they shift up to make themselves more comfortable.
"Loid…" she calls out to him, and he stalls, moving back a little to fully devote his attention to her.
"Hm? What is it?"
"Could we—" she starts, hand stroking his muscular thigh. "Could we try— something a little different tonight?"
He cocks his head curiously, with that smile playing up on his lips. Well, she admits, it's practically always there now. But Yor has gotten better at distinguishing one smile, one grin, from the other; this one is his mischievous one.
"Go on," he says.
"It's, well, it's a bit boring since I read about it in a book but, maybe, if I lie back here, with a pillow underneath me and you, um, go on top. That might be good for…"
She trails off, watching as his tips of his ears turn bright red.
"What?"
"Ah, no, I just…I thought of the exact same thing myself, that's all," he says, coming back into her arms.
"Y-you did?" she asks.
"Yes…" he says; always with that smile, bashful now. "I, uh, was reading earlier that it can help, with our chances."
"Yes, because…" Here she finds his lips again, her hand trailing back down. "Because I really, really want this. I want your baby."
"Oh…" he groans against her, his eyes shut tight as he commits her touch to memory. "Yes. Please. I'd love to...It'd be an honour…to watch you carrying our child. To see them grow up, too… And you'd be such a good mother."
"You think so?"
"I just … I just know it."
He kisses her again, teeth nipping at her lower lip, his hand slipping below to touch her wetness. It never surprises her anymore just how wet he makes her.
"Mmh, I'm ready, Loid," she says.
"Okay."
Loid grabs one of their heart-patterned pillows and gestures her to lift her legs as he slips it under her lower back and then, positioning himself just between her thick thighs, he begins to guide his cock in her.
"I'll go slow first and you tell me when…"
Yor nods, settling into the plush pillows. A sharp intake of breath and…oh, he feels so good inside her, just as always. And yes, oh, yes, she loves how stuffed full he always makes her feel. Loves being filled with his cum, wondering…just wondering when it'll take successfully. One step at a time, she has to remind herself, just to enjoy the journey, enjoy the ride for what it is…
And oh, he's going nice and steady now, setting a rhythm.
"Is that alright?" he asks, holding her close to him by the backs of her thighs; she just nods, "Yes…perfect…"
He thrusts in and out of her, cock slamming into her, That wet erotic slap of skin on skin. How often has she imagined this? How often had she slipped her fingers inside herself, fucked herself raw thinking of his thick fat cock, full of his seed, pumping his cum in her—? God she wants this so terribly much. Wants his baby, wants to raise his child with him, wants him, wants him, wants him…
"More. Harder, faster, Loid, please…!"
Loid picks up the pace on cue his fingers digging into the supple flesh of her wide hips. His big thick cock slams against that sweet spot that has her panting in pleasure. Her hand comes between them, fingers rubbing her clit furiously.
"I'm close— so close…"
As soon as she says that, Loid grabs hold her thighs again, yanking her closer to him — closer than they already can manage. He drives into her at a bruisingly fast pace, balls slapping against her, fingers digging delicious marks into her, his cock filling her up so completely.
"Give it to me," she whispers; sweet encouragements. "Come on, darling—!"
He stutters, and then he's cumming just as she does, spilling his seed in her. He doesn’t pull out. Correction: he can't, not with her strong legs wrapped around his middle, keeping him there, coaxing his hips forward, urging him, getting as much out of him as she can. Loid groans, legs shuddering, until finally he taps out.
She lets him go, easily and giggles as he slumps against her, kissing her collarbone, kissing down her breasts, nipping gently at swollen nipples.
"Well done," she says.
"It's now all down to you," he counters teasingly, as she kisses his matted forehead.
Yes…now it's up to her and by God, she hopes.
She hopes this will work.
Chapter 23: CNC/dubcon
Notes:
Just a warning that this chapter involves discussions and depictions of consensual noncon/noncon scenarios.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
023: simulation
Yor runs the scenario often in her head.
Often enough. More times than she would care to admit, when she’s in her room alone, when he’s pressed her up against the hallway wall, with a carefree hand slipping in between her legs, and she keens into it because of course she wants it. Isn't it what all the ladies want when they see him; make eyes at him?
Here she is, stumbling home late one night, a little drunken, her high heels dangling from her fingers, down dark alleyways, laughing a little too loudly, pressed against him. He takes her down the street, and they slip into an alley. They're kissing, a knee slips in between her legs, her hand snakes down…
Until his hand clamped over her mouth, until she's steadying him, but he's got her trapped. She stalls him; looks at him but he doesn't look at her. Squeezes at her too tightly. Tells him no no no, what are you doing Loid?! His fingers brush against her, where she's most vulnerable. And his hands, oh, his hands which are usually so gentle with her — they become so rough, he makes her turn her around, her skin scratches against the brick wall; he forces his way in.
The thrill of it, ashamed as she is to admit it, sends a shiver down her spine.
… Even if she tells him she'd like something a little more, he'd never agree to it. She sees the concern in his eyes, already.
"But I don't want to hurt you, Yor," he'd say, stroking her shoulder. "Haven't we got enough of that in this world already?"
"But you wouldn't be hurting me. I'll make sure of it."
"…I won't allow it. I love you too much for that."
Still, it’s always good to be prepared, she thinks. In her line of work there are no guarantees. One mistake, one slip, and she could find herself in a highly compromised position. On her hands and knees. Blindfolded and gagged. Restrained. She supposes being like that would help to prime her. When one sense goes, the others compensate.
She wants it to be so with him. Because she feels safe with him. It's just a game, after all. She can stop at any point and Loid would acquiesce.
But she also knows, given the option, that she would continue. Green-yellow-red. Green, till he's pushed her past the point of no return.
And she would let him.
Notes:
Perhaps very loose parallels with chapter 3 in this...
Chapter 24: foot rubs; footjobs; yor in heels
Notes:
I actually had so much fun writing this one! Credit to knockoutmouse for beta-ing this one.
Chapter Text
024: heel.
…Yor had bought a new pair of heels.
This fact had been brought to Loid’s attention the day it had happened. On Thursday, last week, when she’d shown them to him, fresh out of the box.
And what of it? She was well within her right to do so. She did such a good job of taking care of them and the house (well, as best as she could) for she managed the household’s finances; of course she deserved to treat herself. A dress from Hochstrasse. Some perfume that she’d seen in the display window of the big department store. Or…an exquisite new pair of heels that she’d been eyeing from Schuherei Madels for the better part of a month.
But these were a different sort of heel to what she usually wore; open-toed with red criss-crossing straps that went up to her ankles. It certainly left an impression on him, particularly when she painted her toenails bright red to match and put on a little, clumsy catwalk show for him in the living room together. It was adorable and endearing and…it certainly replayed in his mind later that evening.
What’s more, she wore them all week too. And what of it? Shoes had to be worn in! Yet it drove Loid mad when he’d met her for coffee on his Wednesday lunch break (before he had to make a drop a few blocks down), and as they’d caught up on this and that, she would cross her legs – bare on such a cold afternoon; or was she wearing see-through tights? As she spoke animatedly, he watched as she extended her heel towards him and how, in her excitement, the shoe would slip off her foot, so he could see how she curled her toes whenever she laughed at one of his jokes, the sunlight catching her red nail polish too…
He, too, had to cross his legs if only to hide the shame and embarrassment coursing through his body then.
And now, by Friday evening, he was well and truly at his tether. They took dinner together, as they usually did on such evenings, at a little secluded bistro just off where they lived. But he wasn’t listening, wasn’t paying attention to anything on his plate or in his environs.
Just that… under the table, the tip of Yor’s heel traced up his calf, and a little inward.
The blood immediately rushed south.
Calm yourself. Perhaps she just thinks it’s the table leg.
He looked at her, however; at the teasing hint of a smile on her lips. She didn’t acknowledge it, of course, going back to finishing her main course.
Then it happened again; this time she traced a line up the other leg and she was grinning mischievously at him, in the way she did when she occasionally had a bit too much to drink. But she’d had just one glass tonight and, international super spy or not, he would not be defeated by a pair of heels!
Come on, pull yourself together, man!
Neither of them ordered dessert though; they hastened home with her heels clicking on the pavement to the beat of his heart pounding in his chest, his breath hitching as they unlocked the door, lifted the latch and made it back home.
Then he was backed up against the door, with her standing so close opposite him, their chests almost touching as they caught their breath. The cheeky grin was still on her face until, like a flash in the pan, her expression changed and she winced.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“It’s just these new heels. I haven’t quite broken into them yet, so my feet….”
She hissed as she bent down to rub at one of her ankles.
His chance had come! Loid cleared his throat. “Then would you like me to— to help get them off for you?”
“Oh, would you? That would be so helpful!”
And unthinkingly, unwittingly, he scooped her up in his arms--
“Oh, Loid!”
“You’re not walking any further,” he justified.
-- and carried her to the sofa.
Loid could hardly contain himself as they settled down, with the TV on as background noise and... her feet in his lap.
“Um, you can take them off now,” she said, a little bashfully.
And Loid, ever one to obey an order, did just that. With one deft hand, he began undoing the leather ankle straps as the other helped to lift the shoe off her foot. Then the same with the other, and he set her new heels down carefully on the floor.
“...Alright, where do you want me to focus on?”
Her chest rose and fell. “Um…”
“Or shall I start and you guide?” he offered.
Yor nodded.
Loid concentrated his efforts: he had to make Yor feel relaxed! After all, she was on her feet all day, running here and there, making sure they’re all looked after. For the sake of Operation Strix, of course.
But also, because… truthfully, she deserved some tender loving care, he thought, as he began to push at the middle of her foot.
...Yor giggled, withdrawing instinctively. “Stop, Loid, it’s ticklish!”
“T-ticklish?”
He rubbed at the same spot again and she yelped out, dissolving into giggles, her toes curling delightfully.
“I can’t help if you’re going to be like this.” he said, smiling in spite of himself.
“No, no!” she protested, suppressing another giggle. “I’ll behave!”
She offered her foot again, and settled down into the cushions, smiling at him cheekily.
He could not afford to fail now, he thought. Carefully, gingerly, this time, Loid began to massage her, starting again at the mid-foot and working his way upwards in slow steady circles. Up and down along the sole of her foot, till he felt her relax underneath him. When he reached her toes, he spaced them apart with his fingers, kneading each one.
He stole a glance her way; Yor was watching him, intently. There was that glint in her eyes that he knew only too well now. An invitation. Loid set down her foot; moved to lean in closer to meet her.
But she stopped him.
Loid looked down; she’d moved her foot upwards, along the seam of his inner thigh.
“Y-Yor…” he tried; swallowed. She didn’t say anything; didn’t need to when she had him right where she wanted him, her foot pressed right between his legs.
And Loid, unthinkingly, gave in, rocking his hips up to meet the touch. He reached out to touch her, running his fingers along her strong calf muscles as she ground the sole of her foot against him.
“Yor…” he tried again.
Yor’s eyes blazed red; her soft lips parted. “Does it feel good?”
He let out a shuddering breath; nodded.
“...Good,” she whispered. “I like to hear that, hm? I like to make you comfortable too…”
Yet, he thought, it was absurd, pathetic even of a man his calibre, a world-renowned spy to be...reduced to this. And all because she wore a pair of heels!
She pressed against him again and that’s all it took. He came, still fully clothed, hunched over, as he rubbed her foot encouragingly.
“And after all that effort,” she added, smiling.
“Yeah…” he panted, trying to get his breath back.
“...You’ve still got this one to do,” she said.
And she placed her left foot in his lap.
Chapter 25: girlcock!yor: aphrodisiacs; face-sitting; 69!
Summary:
Yor drinks some magical wine and Loid reaps the rewards!
Notes:
i blame everyone in the wise discord server for this one, you know who you are.
also for the guest who requested face-sitting Yor, I hope this somewhat fits the bill!
Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
025: baccheia
Once he had seen Yuri off after dinner, with more than a little weight rolling off his shoulders, Loid returned to the living room, ready to relax for the rest of the evening. Yor had already made herself more than comfortable, lounging on the sofa, glass in hand.
“Ah I see you’ve opened the new wine.”
“Hm? Oh, yesh, Yuri bought it! He shaid it’sh for Lottie!” she said, already slurring her words, thrusting the bottle in his face.
“Not for you then dear.” Loid quipped as he took it.
“Oh but it tastesh so good! I hate to say it but foreign wines really are better than oursh!” she said, toasting the air, the wine sloshing about in the glass as she did and almost threatening to spill on their new white carpet.
Loid inspected the label, making using of all his rudimentary Hugarian. The bottle was a little unusual, because rather than stating whether it was white, red or sparkling wine, accompanied with a pretty albeit generic picture of a chateau or some vineyards, it simply screamed in bold gold-lettered Hugarian:
Magical Penis Wine!
Designed to Make Your Penis Bigger and Better For Pleasure!
Oh.
Oh.
...Well that explained Yuri’s smug expression throughout dinner – the little twerp, he thought.
But if that was the intended purpose of consumption, then--
The pent coin dropped.
Loid looked at Yor, and back at the bottle, at Yor, and back at the bottle.
“Yor...” he started, unsure how he was going to break this to her. “I’m not sure you should be drinking so much...”
“Oh, I’ll be fine!”
“No, no, look,” he said pointedly, handing her back the bottle and translating it for her.
“Oh. Oh.”
She hurriedly set the glass down, cheeks flushed very red as she looked at him in shock.
“But it tasted sho good! N-now what? I mean I can handle alcohol better than I ushed to and I almost always feel warm and tingly but...”
Yor rubbed her bare thighs together, shivering. “B-but thish feels different...!”
It was almost imperceptible at first, but Loid could’ve sworn he saw a little something between her legs, and not just the effect of her bunched up skirt...
It seemed Yor noticed too, looking down at herself, rearranging her skirt, and shooting a look at him as if to ask, again, what now! Indeed, what could they do, Loid wondered, because barring a very embarassing hospital intervention (at his workplace, no less!), there was nothing he could do but try and manage the, er, unintended side effects at home.
He swallowed dryly.
“D-do you want me to help?” Loid offered.
“Y-yes please...”
He quickly moved to join her on the sofa, and she straddled him, steadying herself with her hands on his shoulders. Then Yor was onto him, peppering kisses along his throat, his jaw, up his earlobe as their hands began to make light work of buttons and zips. Business as usual;Yor often got more than a little aroused after wine, which they both welcomed. This time, however, Loid could definitely feel it; her arousal stirring below. Gingerly he pressed a hand between her legs--
“O-oh...” Yor gasped, pulling back. “Um, I think...”
“May I?” he asked and she nodded, shivering as his hands skimmed her thighs, hiking up her skirt.
One look shared between them, assent, and Loid lifted her skirt, like lifting a veil, and waiting in desperation to see what lay beneath.
They gasped when they saw it; her cock, where her clit used to be, straining against the fabric of her lacy red panties, precum leaking from the tip.
“Um, I think it worked?” she finished, giggling.
Loid watched between them as Yor’s hand dipped down to cup her new cock. It was shaped differently to the average cock, he noted, with a little less girth. The hood of her clit had transformed into soft foreskin blushed pink, the head just peeking out.
“A-ah, sho sensitive...” she gasped, rocking her hips as she touched herself. “I-is this how you feel when I touch you?!”
Loid swallowed dryly. “Um, I suppose...”
“Here,” she said, taking his hand and pressing it against her cock. She shivered again. “O-oh...!”
“It helps if you, ah, lubricate it,” Loid added, hardly able to believe the words coming out of his own mouth. But he didn’t care; all he cared about was making sure Yor was comfortable.
“In that case...” Yor dove in to kiss him, sucking on his tongue wantonly before letting him go with a pop. Then she spat into her hand and brought it to her cock.
“L-like this?”
Loid nodded, watching her. “Yes...Touch yourself.”
She bit her lip. “I know how to, I think. I’ve seen you do it...”
Those words alone sent a surge of need through his body. To say nothing of when Yor began to stroke herself, soon thrusting into her own spit-slick hand. The sight was more than Loid could bear, as he began to touch himself, matching her pace. They would hardly last much longer like this, and yet he needed to stave off his release. He was too curious...
“Can I-- Can I suck you off?”
Yor stalled, moist lips perfectly parted. “Y-yes...!”
They enthusiastically rearranged themselves, with him coming to rest on the ground between her legs.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded and he began, at first, with little kisses along her inner thighs just as he always did when he went down on her, working his way inwards. This time however, he tentatively licked at the tip of her cock.
“A-ah! Sensitive.”
“Too much?”
She shook her head. “N-no, carry on...”
He licked again, up the underside of her half-hard cock; steadied a hand on her quivering thighs, stroking reassuringly. Eyes not leaving her, Loid pressed hot open-mouthed kisses along the length before he took her in his mouth gently.
“A-ah!” she gasped, her hand coming to stroke his stubbly cheek. “It feels-- so nice. More. Please.”
He obeyed; wrapped his lips around her cock and began to suckle softly, gently at first, getting her used to the sensations just as he had done the first time he’d gone down on her. He loved sucking on her clit, of course, though this was an entirely new sensation and revelled in how full he felt – in the same way she’d described the joy of going down on him – how warm, how--
Yor’s hand bunched up in his hair, tugging him down on her cock and Loid happily bobbed up and down, taking more and more in. He heard Yor pour herself another glass – but he wouldn’t stop her now -- and looked up quickly to see little droplets of wine sliding down her neck, the valley between her breasts, now that she’d done away with her blouse and bra too.
Then he felt it: pressure in his mouth; her cock, getting bigger! He loved the feeling of his throat being stretched out by his wife’s new cock. He sucked harder, as she matched him, thrusting into him. Loid hollowed out his cheeks, sucking up the length of her cock, till her let her go, panting.
Yor quickly took over, stroking her cock with almost furious abandon as he sat back and watched for a moment. He’d entirely forgotten about his own arousal; focused only on hers.
He rejoined her a moment later, kissing the underside of her cock, delighting in the feeling of her hot throbbing cock against his face as she jerked it. He pressed his thumb against her dripping wet pussy below, thumbpad running up and down her labia and Yor threw her head back moaning as he slipped two-- three fingers in, curling up just the way he knew she liked it--
“A-ah, s-stop, Loid.”
He paused immediately; shot his gaze up in pure concern.
“Alright? Too much?”
“No, it’s nothing bad! Sorry, it’s just--- I want to---”
She fidgeted in her seat, her cock twitching needily.
“Yes?” he prompted.
Yor huffed, pouting cutely. “I want to suck your cock too! Ish not fair, you doing all the hard work... But I still want you to suck me off, um...!”
They looked at each other, bursting into giggles between them.
“God, I sound so silly, don’t I!”
“Blame the wine,” he quipped.
“But still,” she said, calming down, her hand mussing up his soft locks. “I want to.”
Loid licked his lips. “Me too...”
♥️♦️♥️
They made it onto the bed in record time: Loid propped up against the headboard and Yor scooting up her ass towards him.
“R-ready?” she asked.
“More than,” he said and she lowered herself onto his face. Loid inhaled that delicious musky scent. She could suffocate him like this and he’d die a happy man. But always one to put her needs before his, Loid took her cock back in his mouth, and delighted immensely at the feeling of her arching her back, before he felt her move forward and...
Warm wetness engulfed him and Loid could only answer by taking her completely in, nose nuzzled against her pussy, gently moving his head up and down as he thrust up into her below. He resumed with his fingers too, slipping them back inside her tight wetness. Not moving them, just adding a little delicious pressure, which Yor responded to by kneading his balls gently as she now took him in completely.
Loid let out a groan of pleasure, setting off a chain reaction as the vibrations of his throat around her cock had her moaning in turn, sloppily working her way up and down his cock in pure unadulterated joy. Soon, the room filling with the sounds of their sloppy wet lovemaking, each chasing the other’s pleasure... Just a little more... He hollowed out his cheeks and sucked hard at the tip, delighting in her gasps, the way she slammed her hips against him, until--!
Pure white. She came in his mouth and Loid drank it all as he, too, met his release, which she hungrily claimed, and they collapsed, boneless (and bonerless) in a heap together.
♥️♦️♥️
Her body soon calmed down after that, after plenty of water and lots of cuddles, her cock shrinking back down to the size of her clit, albeit a little more swollen though no less enticing. He pressed a few feather-light kisses to it, delighting in the way she wrapped her legs around him giggling at the ticklishness.
“Mm, perhaps we ought to get a few more bottles then...?” he ventured, resting his head on her thigh.
She didn’t reply at first, just running her hand through his hair, a smile playing up on her lips.
“On one condition,” she said, eventually.
“Yes...?” he said, perking up, heart beating in anticipation.
He do anything for her and she knew it.
“...We buy a magical bottle of wine for you too!”
Notes:
hohohohohoho stay tuned for tomorrow’s addition!
Chapter 26: girlcock!Yor and boypussy!Loid: breeding, gags, spreader bars, cock cages and more!
Summary:
Loid and Yor drink more magical wine!
Notes:
once again i blame the wise discord server, but also thank you to the one who suggested "twilight needs to be fucked stupid every now and then...and he gets dicked hard enough to worry about being pregnant".
anyway, part two here we goooo!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
026: on phallussies, or on loid being submissive and breedable
One trip to Hugaria later, with two bottles downed between them and she had him right where she wanted him: braced against the ironframe headboard, his legs forced apart by the spreader bar, back arched like a cat. He’s been gagged with his own necktie so as not to disturb the neighbours, nor to alert them to their utter lack of decorum. The drink had left him – the man who said he was immune to the effects of alcohol and other such paraphernalia – lightheaded and horny as fuck.
Especially so when Yor slowly, agonisingly so, dragged her cock – made deliciously girthier from all the wine she’d drunk this time – out of his puffy pretty pink pussy. She’d already creamed in him twice that evening and sorry, love, but that’s not good enough – perhaps the third time certainly would be the charm, hm? she had whispered against the shell of his ear.
He loved when she reverted to her thorn princess persona.
Still, gagged like this, Loid couldn’t even beg, and couldn’t even make his case for why he deserved one more chance. But he didn’t need to, when he felt her hands tighten around his middle – her signal – before she slammed her cock back into him. Yor set a fast and furious pace, as she fucked her fat cock into him, pistoning in and out of him, pushing him to tears (who said Ostanian men couldn’t cry?). He was completely immobilised, left at her mercy.
Oh, and the wine had the added side effect of affecting their existing parts. Her plush tits, one of his favourite things about her, had grown at least two cup sizes bigger and were pushed up against his back, rosy nipples rubbing up against him. Loid’s own cock and balls, by contrast, had shrunk a little with the wine, to accommodate his new pussy. But Yor had heightened the sensation by locking him in a chastity cage, so that he was utterly and completely emasculated (just like the average Ostanian man was, according to Westalian propaganda).
Though, truth be told? Loid loved it. He didn’t care if they were being wiretapped right now, or, hell, if Fiona were to be watching (anything to deter her!). He only wanted more of Yor, wanted her to take him completely, to test all his limits, push him right to the edge.
Her grip was slipping, the bed was creaking and groaning under their weight, bed-legs threatening to give way. Loid swore he could see stars (the twilight sky) in his vision as she slammed into one more time, the bed legs giving way, crashing onto the parquet. But neither of them registered this –no – because, because Yor was inside him and she had stuffed him full, so full, like her favourite cream buns. She stayed inside him, too, as his cunt milked as much as he could out of her. He felt so warm in his belly, so loved; felt the intense heat of her body against his, supporting him as she praised him. She told him how good he’d been, how good he looked like this, kissing his back...
Finally, her cock popped out of him. And as the cum began leaking Loid suddenly felt so hollow, wrung out, empty, with nothing left to give. But Yor still rubbed her cock up and down his cunt, smearing him with even more of her creamy white cum and, and--
“There,” she said, slipping a silicone plug in him. “Now we’ve done our duty, hm?”
Their duty... But no time to think: her hand was on him again, and he whimpered through the tie stuffed in his mouth as finally, finally she let him out of the cage. And how pathetic, Westalis’ best spy, at the lightest of touches, immediately blew his load all over her.
Still, Yor guided him through it, gently stroking his little cock as she helped to undo the restraints, remove the gag... She turned him over onto his back, propped him up with the pillows but kept her hands at his legs, keeping them apart without the spreader bar.
“Oh Loid,” she gasped, stroking his strong exhausted thighs and admiring her handiwork; the sight of him before her, a blushing red mess, hair mussed up, panting hard, his softening still-twitching cock, his plugged cum-filled pussy.
Her gaze travelled downwards...
She paused.
She couldn’t believe she’d missed it. Forgotten all about it:
His pretty pink asshole, so tight and inviting.
Yor looked back up at him, and he looked at her, as he bit down on one of his fingers and her cock throbbed again.
“Yes...” he managed. “Please...”
And as she leaned forward to kiss her fucked-out love-drunk husband silly, she thought how she wanted to absolutely ruin this man of hers.
And Loid, kissing her hungrily in turn, wrapping his legs around her middle as she sank into his tight heat, thought: He’d need to take a pregnancy test stat!
And they abandoned themselves once more to their absolutely drunken revelry.
Notes:
oh god they're gonna need to buy a new bed....oops
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