can i get a scenario or headcanons (you decide which, i'm not picky) w/ griffith and a reader who's losing her virginity to him? thank you!

this ain't edited so it's a bit messy my bad

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For a single moment, you feel silly for being nervous.

There are thousands of kisses fading in your skin, but a thousand more to replace them, and Griffith is ever so patient, ever so good to you that it feels...unreal.

Perhaps you were the fool, for thinking there was no mercy in this world.

Pressing another kiss behind your ears, his soft lips, pretty as camellia petals begin to slide along the soft curve of your neck, drawing a soft sigh from your lips. His fingers, tapping at what marks splashed your skin with a playful air, begin to slide below your navel, making your skin rise.

An amused chuckle leaves him upon seeing your goosebumps, a chuckle that turns into a soft moan as he presses his lips against yours. Nibbling at your lips, memorizing the shape of your cupid's bow with the passivity of an artist, azure eyes gaze as his fingers slide between your folds. He lives and dies for watching you melt beneath him, for every gasp of air that leaves you, he takes.

Rubbing circles into the swollen little nub between your legs, his tongue laps at your mouth, quietly trying to pry it open. When you cattily refuse, he gives your clit a sharp pinch, sending a flash of heat across your stomach.

He looks so insufferably smug as he slides his tongue across yours.

Griffith doesn't care if it's messy, no--digging his thumb a bit harder as the circles become a brisk pace, he drinks up your moans without unlatching his mouth from yours-- no matter how you throw your head back or arch your spine.

Only when a wetness begins to pool beneath your ass does he slide a finger inside.

It's an odd sensation, he's curious yet gentle--he's not trying to do this for his own benefit, rather yours. It's you the one he wants to see cry, eye-crossed and a drooling sight.

And oh, he sighs for another thousand times--how he loves you.

He gives you little time to mold into his fingers, for he shoves another, and yet another when you're barely getting used to it, never fully allowing it to become dull before he's sending you over the brink, and--!

Clutching onto his shoulder, you see no more.

"Griffith!"

It's bright, yet dark, a pressure beneath your stomach that breaks loose, as a river crashes through the dam. There's a soft moan that unveils into an euphoric, soft laugh, and you don't know who it belongs to. But you don't really care, not when it feels so good.

There's a pressure, one that makes you open your scrunched eyes as you shakily breathe through the ecstasy, before you find your lover settled between your legs.

It's going to be alright, you tell yourself. He loves me. He's not going to hurt me.

Yet he never wanted to wreck anything more.

Giving a last playful peck to your nipple, one he had bitten and suckled raw, your knees are pressed against your chest as you find yourself staring at him, doe-eyed and full of tears. And fuck--did you even know how you made him feel?

Gritting your teeth, feeling the ridge of his head push past your tight entrance forces a sharp gasp that had you clutching at the sheets. He was quick to smother you in praise and sweet nothings, a mantra of "you're so good to me." falling deaf to your ears.

A sting shakes your body as your cunt begins to stretch, his cock fitting snugly into your insides. Inches begin to disappear as he slides into you at a maddeningly slow pace, thumb still drawing softer, gentler circles against your clit, as you helplessly whimper and mewl his name. He rests his body upon his hands, placed at either side of your head, almost as if to get a better look at you.

He begins to slide out, and then in, and out. It's a rocking motion, as one would find themselves on an unanchored boat at the mercy of waves and winds. He shifts into his knees and grabs hold of yours, pressing them flat against your shoulders as his thrusts become sharper, meaner, and soft gasps begin to spill from his lips.

To think you'd see him like this. So flawless. So elegant and refined, turned into a rutting mess.

His hips slap against the plush of your ass, echoing in the warmth of his chambers. It's unfair, you cry. Unfair that he spares such loving looks while ravaging your cunt.

You feel whole, full, thousands of spark to dance along your skin. The stinging ache begins to fade as your body molds itself to him, bucking your hips as the crackling grasp of another orgasm that begins to build.

He takes his hands in yours, and oh. Oh, how could anyone look away from his eyes?

There's no need for words, not when he drags his tongue along yours in an attempt to remember every bump and crevice of your mouth. Even as he separates, tilting your chin so you're forced to gaze at him as he barrels into you, he looks downright divine.

I love you--I love you so much, the words flutter out of his mouth, but they'd never be feather-light.

His thrusts grow desperate, faster and messier, skin against skin squelching lewdly as your juices pool beneath your flesh, but he doesn't mind, no, not when your face rivals the countenance of angels hung upon palace walls.

He thrusts away with all his might, forgetting for a moment that this is your first time. At a time later, he swears to cover you in soft pecks and bathe you in lukewarm water where he can pamper you, it's what you deserve, the least he can do for half of his heart, his faithful lover.

Feeling the muscles of his thighs tense when he lets go of your knees, he wraps his arms under your spine and presses you against his chest, lifting you off the bed yet thrusting away, he can feel his heart upon yours and he relishes--it's beautiful.

Slotting your mouth against his own, he drinks your last cry.

It's heaven upon his palm.