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jolalibrary · 1 year ago

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be good, be quiet

joel miller x f!reader | joel masterlist

GIF credit to the amazing @perotovar who i adore, and i'm grateful adores me.

summary: bill tells you both you're sleeping in separate rooms when a thunderstorm doesn't allow you to leave. but joel isn't planning on getting any sleep.

wordcount: 3.7k warnings: post outbreak. smut. sneaking around (so to speak). p in v. fingering. joel angst. you riding joel. jo's spelling. praise kink. joel trying to keep you quiet (by sticking his fingers in your mouth). feelings, but joel-feelings.

AN: thanks as always to @thetriumphantpanda for leaving me comments in the document that made me feel less scared about posting. and also to @swiftispunk for being a cheerleader when i threw a snippet at her like a toddler with a drawing.

All unannounced, it rumbles in. Creeping in, bringing clouds that snuff light and immense claps of thunder. It’s the kind of storm that has lightning that even the shadows can’t hide from. Makes the house creak, groan—it pleading, weeping in its persistence to stand up straight and not cower.

It’s also the only reason the two of you are allowed to stay.

Joel hears the whispers, tuned in until they grow into near shouts in a room next to the one you and him are standing in. If you’re listening, you make no effort to show it—head turned, staring out as the rain thrashes down, eyes following certain droplets as they run down the pane.

Honestly, he doesn’t even want to fucking stay.

Had folded his arms to indicate as such when it was suggested. But, as he stares at you, he knows he doesn’t want you in it—recalling not all that long ago when you had shivered for days. You’d barely been able to speak full sentences as you remained curled in a ball he couldn’t unfurl, all cold to the touch, clinging to him as your teeth rattled in your skull.

It’s the only reason he’s grateful Frank forces Bill’s hand. His tongue piercing, delivering a fine—all razor-like, cutting, his voice booming that the two of you were to sleep in separate rooms.

He could have argued, could have glared, tilted his head—he didn’t. Not as the house shook with another crack of thunder, an idea sprouting, digging itself deep and blooming out across the wasteland living inside of him.

It’s why he plays along. Taking the fresh clothes, the offering of a shower, bidding you a goodnight loud enough for them to hear downstairs, a kiss to your cheek to sign it—burying a smirk under it all.

The whim pulsating, throbbing under his skin—not doused by the cooling temperature of the shower or his hand gripping the base of his half-hard cock. Memories, tinged with blackened edges brimming as he steps from the steam, thinking, ticking—

Waiting.

Waiting for the house to go mute in between the cries of the weather.

Waiting to strike, to prowl—a champion at it, awarded best in class.

Then, he tires from it.

Throwing the covers back, the soles of his feet meet the wood on the thunder. The ticking clock in the corner syncs with his racing heart, desperate to be quiet, maintain mouse-like footsteps, careful—as silent as he is when he moves through buildings that screech and click.

The door you’re behind is at the end of the hallway—shut, closed. A metaphorical do not disturb struck across it from the glare the two of you had been given before Bill had shrunk off to bed.

He didn’t care, not as the drops of water dripped from his hair down his neck, sliding under the fabric that didn’t belong to him. Fingers reaching out for the door handle, all set to twist, when it opens, metal pulled away from him—draping him and the dull flowered carpet in warm orange.

“Jo—“

He’s quick, hand smothering your exclamation, muffling your words. Covering them with his palm, enjoying how soft your skin feels even under it, as he raises his other hand, finger to his mouth—escorted by a glare, a silent order—before dropping it to your hips, grabbing, digging into you as he begins to walk you backwards. You move easily with him, pressing yourself flush to him, all trusting, reading him like a damn book.

“Were y’coming to find me?”

It leaves his tongue in a rasp.

And the look you give him makes his cock even harder than it already had been. Reminding him he’s too worn, too old to be doing shit like this—but fuck does he want to. Lay there, thinking of only you. Mind lost out at sea, bobbing along gentle waves of how you feel wrapped around him, that whimper you make when he flattens his palm to your spine, slides in, fills you, hips flush with yours.

You’re good, because you nod, no words—not making another noise. Your hand slips past him, shutting the door as your chest remains flush with his—the door happy, gleeful to return to its frame. He slides his hand from your mouth, moving to wrap it around the back of your neck, your chin tilted up without so much as a request.

Then, you smile, soft, almost innocent. But he knows you’re no angel—you’re something carved from molten and destruction, but fuck are you pretty. The kind that leaves an outline on the back of his eyelids. The kind that he suspects would turn heads, if you didn’t look like you wished to disembowel them for even looking. Plus, you’re always with him, eyes on him, enamoured, enchanted—

You shouldn't.

Not when he’s poison, slowly feeding you with drops—rotting your insides and blackening your soul. Watching you slowly being made in the shape of his past, carved, narrative rewritten and a future fading, before you get to live it, because of his company. A price scratched against your name.

But, you chose him—leave a mark, Miller. And he did, does. He paints himself on your spine, ropes of white whenever he can; he makes the juncture between your thighs slick with the mess he makes of you. More you whine, and that’s when it changed. When it became less about mindless distraction and more about possession, care, something else fucking entirely—

He pulls your ear to his mouth, your body relaxing, going limp—catching the scent of freshly washed skin. “Ima need you to be a good girl and be quiet. Can y’do that?”

Joel catches the smirk before you blink it away. Your teeth digging into your lip, nodding, catching the reflection of him as lightning floods the room—a sight that undoes him, affects him even though he’ll never show it. Because how much you want him scares him, makes him feel something other than numb, muted grief and disgrace.

The two of you don’t kiss, but he ghosts his lips over yours all the same. Something about the room makes it more intimate, romantic, normal.

“Not like you to break the rules.”

You snort, fingers knotting in his still-damp hair. “Well, I’m sure it’s equally not gentleman-like to sneak into a lady’s room.”

He grunts, and buries it in the back of his throat. Your tongue forces his hand, making him tug on the borrowed PJ bottoms you’re wearing. Palm flattening under the fabric covering your chest, resting it on your stomach, pausing, briefly feeling your heart beating, proof it isn't a fantasy, a dream, before sliding it down.

That’s when he focuses, basks in the feeling of nothing but the softness of your skin and the stories etched into it from surviving, from living. His fingers inching under the elastic and string, your eyes aflame, an inferno, and he wants you to burn him. Singe yourself into him, leave a mark, make it hurt.

“Stopped being a gentleman a while ago, honey.”

You’re wet. A truth two of his fingers feel, sliding them into your heat, suddenly enveloped by nothing but warmth and the sweet rose scent of the soap you washed your skin in. And it’s a comfort, eyes transfixed, all in awe as he watches you try to hold back a gasp—enjoying the way your nails dig into his neck, lashes fluttering and how you part your lips in a silent moan. He can make out what you’re saying is Joel. Each letter inscribed, even in a muted whisper. J-O-E-L.

He already decides he misses the way you sound. A new craving, a new need to make you sing—make your body break out into music, remind him how sweet something can sound when the world is nothing but grievous behaviour and murder.

It’s why he likes when your back is pressed to his chest, knees sore as he pistons in and out of you on the shitty mattress in the shitty room back in the QZ.

Because you can be loud, unfiltered.

There is no need to muffle back how good it feels what he’s doing to you, you can be unhinged, hiss his name, moan through gritted teeth if you’re trying to punish him. He hears them all the same, collects them. Stores them, and uses them to keep the last shard of him intact from all the loss and survival—the part of him he occasionally shows you. Usually in the dark, more morning than night, your chest flush to his back, not asleep, but not fully awake.

But, he can’t collect them here, can’t risk it here—slowing his movements down, hearing you fight it, struggling, being strangled by the moan you want to let breathe.

“C’mon baby, you know how to be quiet. Y’so good when we’re surrounded by clickers. This is no different.”

Narrowing your eyes, you whimper as the base of his palm catches your bundle of nerves. “You’re not—fuck, Joel—usually doing this when we’re surrounded by clickers.”

The corners of his lips twitch. It slides up into one of his cheeks, making a home there—all temporary, only something you seem to pull from him. “Guess I’ll have to help y’out then, won’t I?”

Your eyes narrow briefly before he does. Snaking two fingers—index and middle—past your lips, pressing down onto your tongue, continuing the movements of his other hand, the one pumping his fingers inside of you, coating himself in you.

He learns, quickly, that the pressure applied to your tongue does little to muffle your moan, but the clap of thunder smothers the rest. The way it bleeds out, shakes everything, allowing you a chance to whimper, whine and moan. Eyes digging into his, begging, pleading—

And, he could watch you for hours like this. At his mercy, hanging on the edge—shimmered with a light sheen of sweat and desperation swirling in your eyes. It’s the only time you’re weak, that you show him you can be vulnerable, soft, your edges smoothed down.

It’s why it takes him by surprise when he feels your tongue swirl around his fingers, sucking on them, staring into his fucking soul like you could repair all it had been through. Fuck he’d let you try when you look at him like that.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” he groans, sliding his palm from your face, resting it on the wall by your head.

“You’ve fucked me on a forest floor, Joel. Don’t act so surprised.”

He lets you have that one—rewarding you for it. Unable to tear his gaze away when you’re overcome with it, stilling, tensing, clenching around his fingers like a vice as you constrict, breathing laboured, rapid breaths before you slant his name across his lips. Stain it. Bury the gratitude and relief as you slide your tongue past his teeth, worming into another part of him, a place he realises he’s wanted you to own. Wants to swallow it, have you rooted under his skin—

“Get on the bed.”

“No,” you rasp, grasping his wrist from between your thighs, bringing his fingers to your lips, tongue swirling before you release them with a pop. “Floor. Bed creaks.”

Another flash, another rumble—it allowing him to take in the expression spreading over your face. The calm, sleepy edge to your smile, all thanks to him. It sears into his skull, makes a home, and buries into a crevice he’ll never be able to scrape you from.

Least of all when you turn, shedding your clothes without aid—stripping himself as you busy ripping sheets to the floor, pillows scattering, a teenager's sleepover dream strewn across the carpeted floor. One he has you lay down on, sliding his mouth over the parts of you he hasn’t yet touched—lapped and enjoyed. Leaving a trail, a path of desire against your skin, your nails finding a home in his scalp, awarding him with gasps, small medals compared to the trophy of before.

“Wanna go on top,” you mewl, hand on his, pausing his hips from connecting with yours. “Wanna ride you, Joel.”

“Think you can handle it.”

It’s perfectly timed, almost comically, the way lightning sparks through the room—your glare more than sharp, digging into him, spacing out his insides until he’s nothing but bone.

He knows you can, but he likes taunting you. Enjoys the way your eyes lick flames across his skin, that your tone can be curt with him, gaze sharpened, pointing.

Joel likes being under you. Has a fondness for the weight of you on him and how your thighs feel on either side of him. Mostly, he likes what it says—what it gives you. An assurance you never ask for and he can never provide, because he can’t give you much, a lot, anything. He’s not good, kind or soft—he won’t trace three words against your shoulder and fan his hand out over your back as he tells you you’re a tempest on two legs, a thing which takes his breath, makes him crave, makes him want, makes him wish.

“You can do it—can take it, take me.”

“I know,” you bite back, lining the head of him at your slit.

It almost makes him snigger. That fury in you, that little determined flame that won’t ever be doused, becoming an inferno in your indignation. So, he whispers your name, fingers crawling up your neck, watching the space your bodies join as you sink down on him.

And he’s in awe as your pussy swallows him, inch by inch, the lightest hiss from under your breath caressing the air as your hips go flush with his.

“Feel good don’t it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, eyes closed, head rolled back fingers digging, half-curling into his stomach. “You always feel good, Joel.”

Your velvet wrapped around him, encasing him in warmth, all slick and needy. It tugs at him, and makes him for a moment feel like a man and not a carved-out monster who keeps fighting to live another day, for some reason or another. He supposes you wouldn’t let him have it any other way, would fight him and anyone else tooth and nail on it. You’re fierce like that, a difficult fucking thing he’s come across and now wishes to never lose.

“So big,” you whine in a whisper.

Lit up by the storm. It casts flickering shadows over your breasts over the muscles that contort as you roll your hips—if it lingered longer, he’d have been able to witness how wild your eyes were, how slick it is where the two of you are conjoined. Evidenced ruin, a sight he’d pull up in his mind when he’s alone, and you’re busy, and he pretends his fist is close to how you feel.

“Y’doin’ so well for me.”

Another flash grants him the chance to study your parted lips, the way your lashes hang over your cheek. It’s a sight, a fucking delight. An extra breath of oxygen and an anchor to keep him here all at once. A thing which didn’t cling, but had sunk its nails into him all the same—I’m not letting go, and you’re not going to ask me to.

You never say those words, but they hang—attached to string and bunting, a banner of sorts. One that isn’t wrong. A realisation that feels larger here than at the QZ. Surrounded by ornate white furniture and floral patterns, a room which has remained untouched, unspoiled—almost making him feel like a person he used to know. The one who he occasionally spots in the mirror, hanging back in his reflection.

It fucks with his mind. Makes him relaxed, and unwinds the stress from his bones as he plants his feet on the ground and rocks with you. Enjoys your moans, soft, bitten back but likely screamed in your head.

A thought beating inside him, all closed fists hammering on ribs: because he never thought he’d get attached to someone. Never mind someone who appears so otherworldly, likely created to threaten, but he finds only fascinating. A soul who unlocks things within him, finds a way through cobwebs and vines.

Someone who makes him wonder how passion and despair, adoration and darkness can all exist inside of him. Especially without losing the parts which he needs to live, to protect, to save—while keeping the parts that have you coming back to him.

He’s sure you see it, though. You understand him, having peeled back the layers in time and seen the decay which lives within his chest. You’ve even traced your fingers over his scars, ear close to them, as if they’ll spill all their secrets. Even without answers, you remain by his side.

It’s what makes this time different. So much so, he lifts your hand from his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles. All tender, soft. Your eyes twinkle, shimmering with something—lit up again—before he places your hand back and rests his hands on your hips, aiding you, helping you ride him, until he has a better idea, a better thought—

His palms almost lift you off him, just the tip remaining as you hover. Digging his thumb and fingers into your skin, leaving indents he can trace when he catches his breath, and he latches his mouth in the space under your breast. Kissing, drawing a circle with his tongue, before he sucks, nips. Intentionally leaving a flaw, signing his name in a signature only he’ll be able to admire—a piece of evidence that this is real, you’re real. Knowing it will be there in the trek back to the life the two of you live; present when you strip off and change, a blight on otherwise perfection, put there by him—another ruin in your life.

Because you could do better than him. A fact he knows, has put to bed but still occasionally turns over.

I chose you because you don’t expect perfection, you’re happy with just good.

Except, you’re more than good.

Your fingers brush over his cheek, soft, gentle. Far too much of both in his opinion. Then he lowers you back down, pussy taking every inch, the lightest hiss fluttering over him as he stares up at you. Transfixed, lost. Almost able to live a fantasy, allow himself to fall into a dreamlike state.

Because this, right in this room, could have been plucked from the world before. It normal, could pretend the two of you were in a room in some inn somewhere or a bedroom the two of you would have built together—hand-chosen ornate furniture and pleasant knick-knacks that adorn surfaces, wooden frames with pictures he could imagine you’d fill if this was real, and not a break in the reality.

“This what you wanted when you were coming t'look f’me?”

He sounds drunk, intoxicated, maybe he is. Having drank from you for so long, he’s more you than he is rotten. He assists you as he snaps his hips to yours, burying the thought in his movements. But, he’s breathing you in—tasting the air tinged with the two of you as you both pant, hunger rearing, desperate, wanting to collide and spark out across nerves, muscles and fucking bone.

Yes, you chant. Yes, yes, yes.

M’close, Joel. So close.

It falls in breathless swirls, a juxtaposition to how tight you are around him, knotting perfectly at the base of him. Sucking him in, keeping him rooted, the head of him finding that spot that makes your body loose and boneless.

“Doin’ so good for me, my good girl.”

So he fucks you harder, uncaring if the floorboards creak, if they protest and shout, he has to. A thing inside of him commanding it. This is all he can give, so give, give, give—

He feels your nails dig, half-moons slicing in—a new scar, one he’ll be thankful to trace. Next is your thighs and muscles tautening. Then, that flutter, the one he seeks, desperate to own, his prize, no one else's.

Mine, mine, fucking mine.

And, distantly, he’s aware he’s the one who pulls you down, but he’ll tell himself later it was you. Trick himself that you required it, even if it was he who needed it. His mouth slanting over yours, clinging to your jaw and cheek, tongue swirling over the moan that is bestowed to him, that hits and fucking pounds into him. Unable to hold on, barely a handful of thrusts before he’s grunting into your mouth, spilling into you, pouring unspoken words to the place between your thighs as you grasp at the tufts of hair on either side of his face.

Something about it makes you taste sweeter. A man like him should never get to experience it now, not this version of him, the act more forbidden, prohibited. It’s what makes him want to spread you out on the floor, lick the expanse between your thighs, taste the two of you—clean you with his mouth and smear you across his face until he’s dyed with the two of you.

Instead, he grasps you close when you collapse against his heaving chest. Palm, all rough, blotched with death, pressing against your cheek as he kisses you. Knowing he should get up and clean himself from between your legs; knowing he should go back to his room.

But he wants to remain on the floor. Enjoying this, whatever the fuck it is. Hand stroking your arm, your fingers drawing shapes as your mouth parts from him, flicking a warmer gaze over him, before lying on his chest.

Stay. Because of the storm.

It’s barely that, just droplets of rain occasionally kissing the glass of the windows.

But in his head, he wants to pretend a little longer. Live in some make-believe land that this is your two’s house, he found it—safety, built ease into your muscles, allowed the callouses to rid from clutching weapons you shouldn’t know how to use. That it’s just a night where the two of you can’t sleep, rather than it being a night where the two of you just feel safe.

“Sure,” he replies in a gruff. “F’the storm.”

Sighing in contentment, rather than annoyance, even if he knows there’s so much suspended in the air—words not spoken or shared.

He almost thinks he could. Almost thinks the moment calls for it—a little whisper, a selection of perfectly chosen words that would wrap you in the knowledge you mean something to him.

But, he thinks you know.

Hopes it, anyway.

AN: shout out to G, who had to listen to me ramble about this two months ago. i hope, once you read this, it's worth the wait.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #tlou fanfic #hbo the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader

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pedroscurls · 3 months ago

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save a horse, ride a cowboy (one-shot)

summary: hugh takes you to go flower picking, but all you can think about is taking him back to his car and riding him. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader word count: 3.1k warning: 18+, mdni! - reader has some description (hair/outfit), smut (teasing, unprotected p in v, car sex, so slightly public, creampie - oopsies, hugh calls you his good girl, reader is very dominant (and hugh doesn't mind it one bit!!!), biting and marking, cowgirl obviously) a/n: huge shout out to @wolverigrl for this amazing request!!! i'm just so obsessed with seeing hugh in a cowboy hat, like it literally just does something to me and i can't help it🙂‍↕️ i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it, thank you for sending me the idea! this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman. y'all should listen to save a horse, ride a cowboy by big & rich while reading 😉

“Come on, baby.” Hugh says, knocking on the bathroom door. “We’re just picking some flowers. Shouldn’t be too long and–”

You finally step out of the bathroom, dressed completely opposite from what Hugh’s wearing. He’s dressed in a pair of khaki cargo pants, a dark gray hoodie with his hiking boots and a cowboy hat. You knew the moment he put that on that you had to go change.

You bite your lower lip when you look up at him, feeling immense pride from the way his eyes are looking at you from top to bottom and bottom to top. You’re dressed in a white babydoll mini dress with a sweetheart neckline, empire bodice, and slightly puffy short sleeves. The silhouette of the babydoll dress continues with a ruffle at the end of your dress, stopping just at the middle of your thighs.

You step forward, hands reaching out for him as your dark brown cowboy boots click against the tiled floor. You see the way Hugh’s throat bobs as he swallows deeply at the sight of you.

“You ready, cowboy?” you ask, running your fingertips along his chest.

Hugh still hasn’t spoken, eyes still glued to your entire frame as he takes your hand, presses a soft kiss on your knuckles, and then makes you twirl around in front of him. The ends of your dress lift slightly and Hugh has to clear his throat at the sight.

“You’re wearing this to just go flower picking?”

“I wanted to look cute,” you grin. “And besides, whenever you wear that cowboy hat, it just does things to me, Hugh.”

Hugh steps closer, his free hand moving to rest on your hip. “And what’s that, baby?”

“Hm, you’ll find out.” You wink and lean up to peck his lips lightly. “Let’s go pick some flowers, cowboy.”

As you’re walking away from him, Hugh turns around and watches. His eyes move from your shoulders, down to your back, settling for a few moments on your backside and then down your legs. He takes his cowboy hat off for a moment and shuts his eyes, mentally praying to himself that he keeps his excitement down – though the stirring beneath his pants tell him that it’s going to be difficult.

You call out his name and look over your shoulder with such an innocent look, batting your eyelashes at him with your lower lip pulled between your teeth. Hugh opens his eyes to look at you and takes two large strides to get to you, an arm wrapping around your waist from behind as his hand splays against your abdomen.

His lips hover near your ear, breath fanning against you as it causes shivers to run through your body. “You’re like a southern belle,” he grins, nibbling at your ear. “I like it.”

Your eyes flutter as you lean back against him, moving a hand to rest over his. “Wait until I ride you like a cowgirl,” you tease, turning your head to gently nip at his jawline. “But only after we pick some flowers.” You teasingly grind your backside against his front, immediately feeling his hardened length beneath the fabric.

Hugh grunts in your ear and then releases you, putting the cowboy hat back atop his head as he takes your hand. “Let’s go.” He doesn’t spare you another glance as he leads you to the truck in the garage. Hugh knows he’s weak, knows that he can’t control himself when he’s around you, but he promised you a week ago that he would take you to pick some flowers.

And Hugh is a man of his word, even though all he wanted to do was take you back home and have you ride him like you said you would.

—

You couldn’t even focus on picking flowers, but Hugh’s taking it very seriously. He’s holding a white bucket, already filled with purple flowers as you trail behind him. Ever since you saw him put on that goddamn cowboy hat earlier that day, you knew you would be distracted. It’s the main reason why you had changed, why you’ve been trying to get his attention, to tease him and cut this flower picking session short.

But Hugh wouldn’t budge. You noticed that he’s kept his eyes focused on the task at hand, only looking at you to make sure you were helping. It isn’t until you tug on his hand that you look up at him with a big grin as you take one of the flowers to tuck behind your ear.

“How do I look?” You ask, batting your eyelashes once more up at him.

Hugh bites his lower lip as he gazes at you from the rim of his hat. His gaze darkens at the sight of you and the grip around the bucket tightens as he tries to think of anything other than you riding him.

“Gorgeous,” he finally says.

The heat in your cheeks rise and you lean up on your toes to peck his lips. “I’m having a great time.”

“You barely picked any flowers,” Hugh chuckles. “I’ve been doing all the work.”

“Oh, that’s intentional,” you wink. “You’ll get a reward after all your hard work, I promise.”

“Reward, huh?” Hugh says quietly, moving his free hand to cup your cheek, watching you lean against his touch. “What d’ya have in mind?”

You bite your lower lip, turning your head slightly to kiss the inside of his palm. “How about we go back to your truck and I just show you?”

“We’re not done—”

You interrupt Hugh by taking the hat from him and placing atop your head, the flower in your ear falling and landing on the ground. You smile innocently at him, moving your hands to flatten the wrinkles on your dress.

Hugh’s at a loss for words. The cowboy hat he was once wearing now completes your entire outfit as the hat sits perfectly on your head. Your hair cascades down your shoulders, his eyes moving quickly to take in your entire frame. God, you looked incredible.

“I want to ride you, cowboy. Can you let me do that?”

Hugh nods slowly. Usually, he’s always the dominant one in this relationship, always the one to tease you until you’re begging for more, always the one to talk dirty because he knows you love it, but now… Now, Hugh feels his resolve slipping. He likes this side of you, likes that you’re taking control, and he has no issue with you taking the reins.

“We gotta go back home and—”

“No,” you interject. “I want to ride you in your truck. Unless,” you tease, running your fingertips along his arms and up to his shoulders. “You can’t handle a little risk.”

Hugh’s eyes narrow down at you. He knows that you’re doing this on purpose… and he knows that he’d give in because he’d do anything for you.

“Anyone can just drive up here, baby.”

“No one but us have been here for the last hour.” You play with the strings in his hoodie, biting the inside of your cheek in anticipation. “Come on…” you tell him, slowly beginning to drag him back to the truck. “Please?”

“Oh, we’re begging now, are we?” Hugh cracks a smile, the center of his pants tightening as he brings the bucket filled with flowers to cover himself.

“Don’t you want to have some fun? Live a little on the edge?”

“I think I’m a bit too old for that,” Hugh chuckles. He knows it’s true. The age gap between the both of you was something that he was hesitant about, but you proved yourself to be nothing like women your age and it was… nice. A surprise. Something he certainly wasn’t expecting either.

You roll your eyes. “So, we’re pulling the old card here, huh? Fine then, old man. I’ll just have to fix my problem myself. I’ll meet you in the truck.” You hold his gaze, watching his eyes repeatedly dart down to your lips back up your eyes. There’s a tense silence that fills the air between the both of you and you know he’s going to call your bluff, knows that he can see right through you.

“Be my guest,” he growls lowly. Neither of you move and Hugh can sense that you didn’t like his answer. He can see the way your brows begin to furrow together, eyes narrowing. “What? Why ya looking at me like that, hm?”

You don’t answer him and just take his free hand, leading him back to the truck without a word. Once at the truck, you take the bucket of flowers from him and set it on the bed of the truck before you push him against the driver’s side door. When you look up at him, you can see the surprise look on Hugh’s face as you step forward, hand moving to run down his chest, down his abdomen, until it hovers near the center of his pants.

Hugh inhales sharply, one hand reaching out to grip your hip. Luckily, your body covers what you’re about to do as you run the palm of your hand over his growing bulge. Your eyes still remain locked on his, watching his own flutter at the sensation.

“B– baby, we should–”

“Get in the truck,” you tell him, releasing your hold on him as you reach for the handle of the door. Your eyes darken, laced with desire and lust and Hugh feels himself throbbing almost painfully at this new side of you. He turns and helps you open the door as he climbs up on the seat and then looks over at you.

“Well?” he asks, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip.

You reach down to push his seat all the way back as it will allow, giving him enough space for his legs and enough space for you to climb up on top of him. Once seated on his lap, you rest your core firmly against his hardened bulge and shut the door. The windows on his truck are tinted, which does provide enough privacy for the both of you and the windows are cracked just slightly so that there’s a breeze that enters the car.

“We really–fuck,” Hugh groans, head resting against the headrest as he feels you roll your hips against his firmly. His hands dart out to rest on your hips, gazing up at you as your hands rest on his shoulders. He sees the way your face contorts in pleasure, mouth slightly agape, eyes fluttering.

“Shh,” you tell him, gripping his shoulders as your hips grind down into him. You can feel the length of his manhood press against your wet core. Slowly, you sit back against his thighs to reach down to undo the button and zipper of his pants as he lifts his hips slightly off the seat to push down his pants and boxers past his thighs to relieve the pressure. His manhood stands at attention, already throbbing and leaking at the tip as he stares up at you.

Your legs are placed at either side of his hips as you reach down with your free hand to grasp his base, running his tip along the length of your sex. Then, you see his eyes widen when he registers that you hadn’t been wearing any underwear this entire time.

“No underwear, hm?” Hugh growls, grabbing the ends of your dress to lift at your hips. He sees your exposed sex and his length running along your wet heat, his grip on your hip tightening even further. “You minx.”

“Easy access,” you grin, lifting above his hips slightly as he notches his tip at your throbbing heat. Slowly, you lower yourself down onto him, your walls stretching almost painfully to give way for his girth. Releasing his base, you move both hands back on his shoulders, biting your lower lip as the cowboy hat remains on your head, tilting it slightly back so that Hugh can get a good view of your face.

Hugh lets out a loud groan at the feel of your walls sliding down his length, so warm, so wet, so tight and gripping him in a vice. He feels his breath catch in his throat when you finally lower yourself to the hilt and when he looks up at you, wearing his goddamn cowboy hat and holding onto his shoulders like your life depended on it, it just turns him on even more.

“God, Hugh,” you moan, slowly rolling your hips forward and backward as your walls begin to give way to him. You’re so wet, your arousal leaking out of you and dampening the hair at his base. With each roll of your hips, the hair provides just the right amount of friction against your bundle of nerves and you quicken your movements, chasing your own release.

And you’re close. Hugh knows it too, so he gently reaches up to lower the front of your dress. He lets out a quiet whimper at the sight of your exposed breasts, succumbing to your every move and allowing you to do all the work. “No underwear, no bra…” he groans, leaning forward to latch his mouth onto one of your peaked nipples. “Such a good girl for me,” he mumbles against you. “My good girl.”

My good girl. That’s it, baby. Fuck.

It’s all you needed to hear for your walls to clench around him, reaching your first orgasm at record speed. You stop all movements, firmly sitting on his lap as you feel his tip kiss your cervix. He’s so deep in this position and it feels so good, so full of him. Of Hugh.

Hugh has to pull away for a moment to watch you. He always loved watching you reach your climax, the way your eyes shut tight, your mouth slightly formed in an ‘o’ shape, and a moan escaping your lips. It was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen before. You were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen before.

And now, the image of you orgasming wearing his cowboy hat with your dress pulled down enough to expose your breasts is an image that he will never forget.

“Gimme a sec,” you pant, feeling him lift his hips slightly off the seat. You’re still sensitive, but you know that you want more. You need more. Leaning forward, you gently kiss the tip of his nose as the rim of his cowboy hat touches his forehead. “I’m only getting started,” you whisper.

Hugh grunts and nods. He needs you to move, needs more of you, but he stays patiently waiting. He hooks a finger under your chin and gazes directly into your eyes, a small smile lining his lips. “You said you’d ride me, baby…” he says lowly. “Show me what you got.”

And just like that, a flip in you switches and you grip his shoulders tightly. You gaze into his eyes and then begin to lift your hips, feeling every vein and ridge of his manhood throbbing against your walls. You hover above him until his tip is the only part of him inside of you before you slide back down on his length. You see his eyes flutter at the movement and you feel the grip on your hips tighten even further and you just know that it’s going to leave a mark later.

Hugh leans forward, lips pressing firmly against the side of your neck as he growls against you. He moves his hands from your hips to the flesh of your backside, gripping you tightly as he feels your walls grip him so tight, sliding along his length. He lets out a loud groan, teeth grazing your pulse point at your neck before he bites down roughly, kneading the flesh of your backside as he feels your hands from his shoulders to the base of his neck.

“Hugh,” you moan, beginning to pick up the pace as you lift your hips upwards and back down. “So deep…”

He pulls back a bit and gazes at the growing mark that he just made on your neck and it spurs him on even more, gazing up at you to see your eyes focused solely on him. Hugh knows he’s close and he leans back to rest against the seat, allowing you to just ride him like you said you would.

You’re holding onto him as you both gaze down at where you’re connected, his manhood glistening with your slick before you slide back down onto him until he’s filling you so fully.

“Fuck,” Hugh groans, watching as you move your hips forwards and backwards again. He feels it building in the pit of his stomach and he looks from where you’re connected, back up your body to your face, growling at the sight of you in his cowboy hat. “Mine, all fuckin’ mine,” he groans.

Your hips move faster, the hair at his base once more providing the right amount of friction against your clit. You feel your walls begin to tremble as your hands lock together at the base of his neck, holding onto him as your hips roll repeatedly against his.

“All yours, cowboy,” you tell him through quiet moans.

That’s all it took. Hugh grips your hips, holding you still as he reaches his own high. He lets out a loud groan, head tilting back as he shoots his release deep inside of you, painting your walls. You’re breathing so heavily and you reach down to rest your hands on his wrists, slowly moving your hips forward and backward to milk every last drop out of him.

He shudders against you, squeezing your hips as he slowly opens his eyes to look up at you. You’re gazing down at him with a small smile as you lean forward to kiss his cheek. You remain on his lap with his manhood still deep inside of you, feeling him soften within your walls.

You cover yourself back up, bringing the top of your dress back to cover your breasts as you look at him. Hugh’s breathing so heavily, eyes focused directly on your own.

“So this is what happens whenever I wear that cowboy hat, hm?” he says quietly, a small smile lining his own lips.

You grin and nod, looking up at the hat on your head before turning your gaze back onto him. “You wear this and I’m riding you every time,” you promise. “And I’m gonna be wearing it while I do.”

“God, you’re amazing.”

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy, right?” you tease.

Hugh nods and wraps his arms around your waist, leaning forward to peck your lips lightly. “I’ll be your cowboy anytime, baby.”

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman fiction #real person fanfiction #real person fiction #rpf #real person fanfic #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x fem!reader #hugh jackman x f!reader #hugh jackman x female reader #hugh jackman requests #hugh jackman oneshot #hugh jackman one shot #story: save a horse ride a cowboy

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talesofesther · 6 months ago

Text

𝔈𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔉𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢

↳ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

Aemond Targaryen x Reader/fem!OC

Series Summary: You made a promise to Aemond once, when you were young and naive, and the only friend he'd ever known; yet you abandoned him before you could fulfill it. Between broken bonds, a betrothal, and flames that still burn deep within you; this is the story of how you fell apart and found each other again.

A/N: My newest series is finally here, and it's one that I am incredibly excited about. I'm not going to say this is fully a reader-insert, because there will be a few minor characterizations for the main girl, I even considered writing this in third person but at the end of the day second person is the style I'm much more used to and comfortable with. However, I believe it is still "vague" enough that it can be considered a reader-insert too. All in all, I sincerely hope you can enjoy this story, I promise it'll be a good one. <3

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

"Tell me again."

From one of the highest points in the Red Keep, you could see the immensity of King's Landing and the waves of Blackwater Bay crashing to shore.

"Tell you what?"

The wind was cold yet gentle, dusk settled on the horizon; painting the skies and clouds in deep golden.

"The story of how you found your dragon."

You smiled, easy and knowing. Aemond has heard this story a dozen times already, yet you never refused to tell him just one more time, whenever he asked. From the glint in the young prince's eyes, you knew that it gave him hope that one day he would find a dragon of his own.

"My father, Laena, my sisters, and I were traveling again, we had stopped by a small town to let the dragons rest. And there, they told us they had spotted a rogue dragon. As wild as a lioness. She'd come out to hunt at night, during heavy rain and lightning storms." You motioned theatrically with your hands, an excited grin on your lips as you recounted the fateful night you'd met your dragon.

Aemond listened closely, as he always did, leaning his elbows on the balcony's balustrade and keeping his gaze attentively on you.

"One night, when we were staying at a house at the edge of town, I walked out while everyone was asleep. Do you know why?" You bit at the inside of your cheek, playing the usual game.

"You heard her," Aemond answered with the same spark of youthful joy.

"I did," you whispered as if it was a well-guarded secret, leaning closer to the boy. "I could hear her outside, the sound of her wings, her heavy steps on the ground. It was raining, and dark, but I felt as if... as if she was calling to me." You placed a hand over your heart.

"I think Caraxes heard when I got out, I think I ended up waking him," both you and Aemond chuckled. "But he kept quiet when he saw it was me. I walked for a while during that night, until..." You paused dramatically, and Aemond grinned. "Until I saw her, feasting on a stolen lamb."

Aemond's eyes were sparkling, he was drinking in every word.

"She was so pretty," you recalled with a soft smile, looking out to the horizon and the darkening sky. "I could see the dark blue of her scales, and then the brighter blue of her wings. Her horns were long and pointy, and she had this patch of fur in between them and on the back of her neck that I'd never seen before."

"She didn't attack you," Aemond mumbled, more a statement than a question; he knew the answer.

You shook your head; "No, she just looked at me with those beautiful eyes, they looked like they were glowing. And then she came closer, baring her teeth, but I asked her to stay calm. Told her I was a friend." You picked at your nails, a fondly nostalgic look in your eyes. "She followed me back home after that. I think she liked that I wasn't afraid of her. Father was furious for what I had done, but I think he was even more curious about my new dragon." You shrugged, with a cheeky grin, "The next morning, I chose to ride her for the first time, and she let me. We don't know if she ever had a rider before me, but we share a deep bond now."

"You are so lucky," Aemond told you, his voice low and eyes downcast; not because of your story, but because the boy wished to have the same luck you did.

Turning your head to try and catch his gaze, you spoke with conviction, "You're going to find your dragon soon, Aemond, I know you will. And when you do, we're going to fly together over all of King's Landing, I promise you."

Despite the solemn look in his eyes, the young Aemond smiled.

You extended a hand to him then, "Come on, your mother will be mad if we're late to supper… again." Wiggling your fingers for him, you held back a grin.

Aemond rolled his eyes halfheartedly, taking your hand anyway.

You walked together through the hallways of the castle, blissfully innocent and unaware of the amused whispers between the maids about how you two would still marry someday.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

Two nights later, Aemond did find his dragon. However, it came at a cost.

The day had been one filled with grief. Laena had passed away after trying to give birth to her third child. While she was not your birth mother, you had spent enough years by her side to consider her something similar to it; as she was, after all, the closest thing to a mother that you knew. She had always been kind to you, treating you no different than how she treated your two half-sisters.

You mourned her loss, the salty air of the sea mixing with the salt of your tears as you watched the ceremony unfold.

As soon as she had learned of her third pregnancy, Laena wanted to return home. Your father eventually agreed to halt the travelers life for her sake, and once King Viserys got word of your return he offered all of you a home in King's Landing again. Laena had been happy with the agreement since her brother lived there too.

And so that's how you came to meet Aemond. That was several months ago, yet it sometimes feels like it was just yesterday.

Tonight, you had gone to bed with red and puffy eyes, but it didn't take long for the distant sound of fast-paced steps and arguing to pull you from your sleep. You got up, rubbed your still tired eyes, and tiptoed towards the commotion, bare feet padding over the cold stone floor of Driftmark.

After turning corners and almost getting lost in the infinite hallways, you found your family. Everyone stood around the lit fire of the throne room fireplace while the Maester tended to someone you couldn't yet see as the back of the chair they were sitting on blocked your view.

Alicent was shouting, Rhaenyra and her sons were shouting, everyone was shouting; you heard the sharp words yet couldn't make much sense of them.

You spotted your father leaning against a pillar, a couple of feet away from everyone, and ran up to him, immediately clinging to the fabric of his vest and looking up at him with questioning eyes. He didn't speak, simply lay a hand on your back and then on your head, in the best comforting manner he could muster.

The shouting match continued until Viserys had to raise his own voice, everyone in the spacious room stayed quiet for a moment then. You could hear your shaky breath, feeling it in your bones that something was wrong. You gripped tighter onto your father, leaning your head against him.

Breaking the silence, Viserys demanded answers from Aemond, and your heartbeat sped up at the sound of your friend's name. And then his mother was speaking about the injustice of him being maimed. And when Rhaenyra mercilessly demanded that he be questioned, Aemond finally looked in her direction, and consequently, yours.

You saw it then. Deep red blood glinting in the low light of the fire, painful stitches stretching skin while also holding it together, his eye sewn shut. You couldn't hold back a gasp at the sight of him, the whole left side of his face now forever marked with an angry, deep cut that went from his forehead, over his eye, and down to the middle of his cheek. Seeing your friend like this twisted your stomach in all the wrong ways and made you feel like puking out your dinner, you were almost poking holes in your father's vest with how tight you were gripping it, already feeling your eyes burn with unshed tears.

Aemond met your gaze from afar, he looked almost as stunned and lost as you; but he was also quick to look away and hide behind the back of his chair again.

You didn't hear much of the rest of the fight then, all turning into muffled noise to your ears as your father took hold of your hand to pull you forward with him and into the commotion when Alicent picked up a dagger, dashing towards Rhaenyra. The sight of Aemond's bruised and slashed face forever burnt into the back of your mind.

The only voice you clearly heard again, was his; "Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon."

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

You were only able to meet Aemond again on the next day, minutes before both of you had to leave Driftmark.

You found him in a secluded hallway, he looked out at sea through the large windows, watching as they readied his ship for departure, the left side of his face carefully bandaged to keep the cut clean. Holding onto the sides of your dress so as not to step on it, you ran to him.

He heard you, of course he did, you were hardly the sneakiest of people. Part of him wanted to turn away and leave, deeply ashamed of the fresh scar marking his skin; perhaps even afraid that it might scare you off. But you were his friend. His only friend.

"Aemond..." you spoke softly when you reached him, biting at the inside of your cheek and nervously gripping onto the cotton fabric of your lilac dress. You were only kids; you didn't know what to say to someone who'd just lost a part of himself, and Aemond cowered under your gaze, making himself smaller as shame and timidness filled his gut.

"Does it... hurt?" You chose to ask, voice hesitant.

The young prince took his time, pursing his lips as he looked down at his feet and then out the window again. "Yes," he admitted, "but less than it did last night."

"I'm sorry," you said without a second thought.

Aemond glanced in your direction with the corner of his good eye, refusing to turn toward you completely. "Are you not upset that I claimed your step-mother's dragon?"

The corners of your lips turned up into a small smile, it held sorrow and affection in equal measures. "I'm not." You stepped closer to him and turned to look out the window as well, watching as gentle waves washed to shore. You bumped your shoulder onto his. "I'm glad it's you."

For several moments you stood in silence, simply enjoying the easeness that came with each other's company.

Alicent's voice was the one to eventually break the quiet. "Aemond," she called.

Both you and him turned in the direction of her voice, finding her looking at you with a fond smile on her lips. "It's time to go, my dear." She gestured outside, to where their ship awaited, now ready to set sail. Aemond nodded at her words and she turned around, making her way to the docks.

The prince, however, made no effort to leave, he kept his gaze focused outside, following a flock of birds that overflown the ocean.

You followed it too, the sight bringing an idea to your mind. You had a tentative smile on your lips before you even started speaking; "You should go," despite not looking at you directly, you noticed Aemond's attention shifting to you. "I'll meet you again once we reach King's Landing, and... now that you have a dragon, perhaps we'll soon be able to fly over it together, right?" Your voice held a hopeful tone as you spoke.

For the first time since he had lost his eye, Aemond smiled; a real smile that stretched the fresh stitches on his cheek and gave a prickling feeling to the sensitive skin around them, but he didn't mind. He finally turned to look at you fully, all hopeful excitement and pink cheeks.

"We will," he affirmed without losing his grin. He held your gaze for a moment longer, lips parting as if he wanted to say something more, but didn't.

From the same window, you watched, now alone, as Aemond's ship sailed away; the colossal figure of Vhagar flying close to it, as if to protect her new rider.

Later this same day, your father married Rhaenyra, taking both you and your sisters to live in Dragonstone without ceremony.

You never said goodbye to Aemond. You would have, if you knew you would not be seeing him again for many years to come.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next chapter

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Thank you for reading this chapter. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

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#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #aemond targaryen x reader #my story #echoes of a flame

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hoseoksluna · 9 months ago

Text

WHITE | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut

word count: 8.1k

summary: craving white wine, your boyfriend would do anything for you—even let you dom him.

pinterest board: wine

warnings: alcohol consumption, wine!oc is dominant and she's enjoying it, plushie used in a sexual intercourse, dd/lg, jk is desperate and so horny, hand job, oral sex (m. + f. receiving), fingering, squirting, raw sex, the importance of sex being imperfect, use of sex toys — yes, plural, dirty talk, spanking, face riding

note: i'm genuinely sorry for this—SDFKJDSLFJDSLFJS. this is the last wine drabble <3 i loved writing about them again, ugh i missed my babies so much. would you, guys, also like me to write two drabbles about the steam series? i feel like it would only be fair like this. vote in the poll below, pwease. <3 hope you like this last installment.

Your boyfriend has an immense, insane amount of energy.

You have partly yourself to blame. It’s Saturday night, summer at full blast and you felt it thrumming so deeply and intensely within your veins that you found yourself craving your most favored mood-lifter in the world.

White wine.

You’ve almost spent every weekend drinking myriads of different alcoholic beverages, but the white nectar is something you’ve quite neglected. Well, not so much as neglected, but forgotten about entirely. The last time you drank it, you and Jungkook were on far, far different terms. Fuck buddies with a degradation kink, skipping a party because you got horny again. You wonder if things would’ve turned out the same way if you hadn’t decided to spice up your getting ready time with that drink. Would it change the course of events that led him to confess his feelings for you? Would you have allowed yourself to fall for him, had he not made you drunk with his allure?

You only had to mention your thirst and Jungkook was quick to get up to his feet, take his keys, phone and wallet and he was out the door before you could say anything else. Your fond giggles vibrated across the room—so much that Bam lifted his head and jumped on your lap and so you spent the remaining time alone cuddling with the canine friend, catching up in your lovey-dovey dog language, kissing him all over until you dolled him up with red lipstick marks.

He looked so good. Was happy about it, too, because when his Daddy came back, he was similarly quick to show him.

And Jungkook, he laughed so hard that he clutched his own stomach, doubled over, his shoulders shaking. Then, he sat next to you on the couch, pulled you in for a hug as if he hadn’t seen you in years and very solemnly told you that it was his turn now.

The words that tumbled out of you were so swift, without any kind of embrace of thought beforehand, that you didn’t have the time to consider the consequences they would come with until they dazzled you. Through and through, ridding you of your sense of sight.

“You’ll get your kisses only if you show me that you bought the wine.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew in size, darkened in nightly fashion. Twinkles flickering, dimly. The atmosphere, the dynamic and energy shifted, folding into something you haven’t yet experienced in such depth, calming your eyes until they blended back into normalcy. And you wouldn’t perceive it for what it truly was, had Jungkook not wordlessly left to fetch his bag from the convenience store, along with a corkscrew and two glasses, and had he not crouched in front of you.

The view left you stunned. The blatantly obvious fact, too.

The fact that, somehow, you were in control.

And it was so different from the last time due to a simple reason. Jungkook wasn’t the one who initiated it. Didn’t tell you to be in charge. Didn’t give you his control in words, in commands. No, it happened arbitrarily, on its own and Jungkook submitted to it. Submitted to you. Put down his control once he lowered his form between your knees, giving it to you this way, silently.

A thing of utter beauty, filling you up with vibrancy, enthusiasm and… passion.

He showed you his haul, unloading it onto your lap. Sparkling white wine in a golden bottle, dog treats, cheese and crackers and… Miffy.

Miffy in a way you haven’t seen her before.

Made into a sleeping position. Black eyes shut, round butt risen in the air, even rounder tail perked, body soft and drowsy. Bigger than the bunny resting alone on his bed in the other room.

You purred, squeezing her hard before you hugged her to your chest, careful not to smear your makeup on her when you pushed her up to your neck. Looked at your quite small boyfriend with a ravening gaze as you said, “You got bunny a sister, how cute. Well done.”

Your praise coaxed a noise out of Jungkook that you never heard before, one that stirred the eternally slumbering beast in you that had not once seen the night enveloping you. A concoction, most delicious and arousing, of a whimper and a hum. It settled within your core, teasing you there, making you want more. You told him, or the beast more like, to open the wine and he obeyed, right away.

You watched him do it. Watched the flexing of his muscles, tense beneath the fabric of his tiger-print shirt. Watched him not spill a drop and then pour you a glass until it almost overflowed. He handed it to you, expecting you to take it from him, but you caught him off guard.

“Taste it for me first.”

His mouth fell agape. Remained parted when he immediately brought the glass to his lips and took a large sip. Your eyes followed the bobble of his throat as he swallowed and you gave him a big smile for it. A praise, too.

“Good. Let me have a sip now, my hands are full.”

In typical fashion, he drew close to you until your knees squeezed him in, legs wrapping around his torso. One hand wrapped around your hip, the other tipped the glass to your mouth and you looked at him and did not stop until you took a big gulp.

“More.”

He tipped it again. “Tastes good?”

You nodded, liking the sweetness and the fizziness, but this time you didn’t swallow the nectar. Jungkook set the glass down, along with his haul, averting his gaze momentarily and you cupped his chin, bringing it back to you. Leaned in and, in a heated kiss, you spewed the wine out into his mouth. He gasped, pulling away, flushed cheeks a tiny bit full, lips pursed, one mouth end wet with a trickle flowing down. It would’ve been an adorable sight, had his eyes not narrowed, darkened further more and pierced you with such intensity that your clit gained a drum.

Your finger felt for the top button of his shirt. “Swallow. Don’t be messy.” He did. Swore. Breathed hard. You undid the button, lifting your digit to wipe his chin clean, smearing it on his bottom lip until he opened for you. You plunged in. Let out a low sound of delight once he wrapped his puffy lips around it.

And now here you are staring at each other, finger in mouth. His newly secured energy pulsating in him, seconds away from bursting, brutally. You can see it, vividly, and you prepare yourself for it—blaming partly yourself and, feignedly, the palatability of the white nectar for being the cause behind it. He’s waiting for the next move, countenance terribly solemn and stiff. His hands must be oh so itching to take over, but he sticks to the unspoken, patient and good.

Taking out your finger gently, you undo the rest of his buttons, aware of the shudders zapping his body the more you reveal his smooth skin. Jungkook straightens for you, palms on your thighs, breathing heavily, a sound that brings out the strangest of oxymorons in you—simultaneous nervousness and confidence. Nervousness that you call the shots; confidence that the paintwork of his arousal is signed with your name.

And it’s the latter that the beast plucks out, like a twig of flower off a tree.

You push Jungkook back and slide into his lap, biting your lip at the contact of his hardness under the flimsy material of your ivory pajama shorts. His hands clasp around your small hips, but you pry them away, deeming that if you are in control, then it’s you who decides when he gets to touch you. His brows rise when you pin them down and at last he beams up at you, eyes lidded and drunk, despite the fact he merely had two sips of alcohol. Bunny’s sister rests askew in your joined laps, her head pointed towards your mound and it forces a certain idea into your muddy brain.

One that Jungkook fleetingly interrupts.

“You’re gonna take control of me?”

Ooft, making it official. You hum your agreement, repositioning the plushie. Place her directly against his imprint and, pushing the soaked center of your shorts to the side, you sit down on her soft face. Begin to rock slowly. Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat, fists clench on either side of him as well as his jaw, chin upturned. He’s holding himself back with all of his might and it is only now that you feel your wetness dripping onto the fur, now when the vibrancy of the faint pleasure spreads across your every nerve ending, now when you know that he’s struggling to keep his composure. There’s something so incredibly satisfying about it that you rock your hips harder, whimpering, hands gripping his shoulders.

“Can you handle it?” you murmur, already knowing that he won’t be able to the moment you decide to take things further, but you give him a slither of a chance to prove you wrong, rooting for him from within with a sly smile on your face.

Jungkook pokes his tongue in his cheek, sighing, eyes descending to your neck and to your perky, pebbled breasts under your low cut top. “I’ll handle anything you come up with as long as I get your kisses.”

His sweet response gratifies you so much that you arch your back, lowering your hands down to his chest, the thrum on your clit becoming unbearable, the soft friction of the plushie doing very little to alleviate it. You whine, picking up your pace. “Even—even if you don’t get to touch me?”

Jungkook hesitates, biting his lower lip. A certain sadness coasts his now big eyes that makes you coo endearingly and slow down, feel so bad for him. “Anything for you.”

You can’t halt the groan from escaping, the groan that roots from the passion and the love you carry for him, from the principle of his submission. You’ll make it up to him. Play with him just for a little while and you’ll give him his rightful upper hand right back to him, all because he was so quick to be your little toy. Without a thought, nor a word spared. Without a struggle. He deserves it. Has come a long way.

“You’re just my little slut, aren’t you?” You grab a hold of his throat, tip his chin up, feel his vein throbbing. “My pretty little slut. Hard for me, hm? Will do anything for me?”

Widening his eyes, mouth parted, he moans, sucking in a breath, chest lifting rapidly. Hand automatically lifting to palm himself, just in time to realize that he can’t because the plushie and your lap is in the way. “Yes, I’m your little slut and I need you so bad. Need your kisses.”

You hum, terribly, terribly satisfied. Horny. A fire, personified. Fire and energy—a wonderful mixture about to meet. “Where, baby?”

His breath shakes, his being radiated by you, glistening in sweat. “Everywhere, please.”

You drift your hands down his chest. Think he earned them now by asking so nicely. You sit back on his thighs, plushie in hand, ready to chuck her away, but then another idea comes up.

Grabbing her by the back of her neck, you use her to kiss him. On his jaw, on his neck, on his left peck, nipple and the mole underneath, making kissing sounds. Jungkook shudders at the contact upon his most sensitive spots and you can see his disliking for it before he voices it out. You revel in it, his desperation becoming your obsession.

“No, not from her. Please, from you.”

But in spite of that, your craving to give him everything is stronger.

You toss her on the couch, hands instantly clasping around his neck. You kiss him, wetly, on his Adam’s apple and he whimpers, urging you to continue. The sides of his throat, collarbones, shoulders—you mark him everywhere with your red lipstick, making a pathway down his sternum before you go sideways. Create a large shape of a heart on the left side of his peck, coloring it in with bruises, with kisses so hard that his manhood twitches in his pants. You’re so focused on adorning him, on the citrusy taste of his skin, that you don’t even sense your hands as they rid him of his shirt, unbuckle his belt and undo his button, dragging down his zipper.

You rise to your feet, out of breath, puffy mouth, lipstick slightly smeared, head spinning. “Take off your pants and get on the couch.”

The golden buckle of his belt catches your eye as he stands up. You wrap your hand around it and tug it out of his belt hoops harshly. There’s a hint of timidness in the vast sea of his arousal once he looks at you, aware of what you’re planning with the leather band. With a giggle, you merely wink at him and Jungkook blushes, dropping his gaze in tandem with his pants.

“Boxers, too?”

You edge around his side and envelop your arms around his middle, mouth pressing against his spine. A big, red mark of your lips amidst the broadness of his back. Utterly, utterly beautiful. “Smart boy, yes—off with them, now.”

Jungkook laughs, softly, shyly. You wish you could see his blush deepen as the clenching of his abdomen divulges to you how much he liked that praise. You also wish you could feel the fluttering of the butterflies inside, if there are any at all. You’re getting to know him in such a new way that you otherwise would have never had the opportunity to do so. The shudders, the tension under his skin, the lively energy that is yearning to burst and rain upon you—it is all so awfully exhilarating, even more so the fact that you hold it all in your tender grasp.

And he lets you. In the name of love.

He drops his undergarment and he goes to sit down like you told him to, but you squeeze him harder against yourself. No, he’s not going anywhere. The heat, his soft skin, his gentleness and shyness—you want it all close to you, close enough to seep into your pores so it can make bed there and live there perpetually. So snug, so homely—yes, that’s precisely what it is. Home.

You skim your hands down the defined muscles of his stomach, feeling them move under your fingers. Take his wrists behind his back and keep them there, unrestrained yet, his belt curled on the coffee table. You bring your hands back to his stomach, lowering them down—

“Can you reach me?” Jungkook asks, head turned to the side. You’re so used to degradation in your sex life that at first you thought he was mocking you, but on the contrary—he’s asking in all genuinity. With his forearms pressed to his sides, he’s bigger than he usually is and he wondered if your small form can stretch enough to touch him.

How sweet.

“Such a good, thoughtful boy.” You grab his length. Had to do it from the side a little bit, but you don’t mind. At least you get to see him. See the way he twists his features at the contact, see his energy and his muscles straining. “I guess I can, huh?”

You tug at his length rapidly a few times. His body shudders again, almost doubles over before he straightens his spine, whimpers trickling out of his mouth and rooting in your heat, soaking your pajamas. And when his sounds rise in volume, you swiftly let go of him. Fetch the belt and fasten it around his wrists, leading him to take a seat on the couch.

Manspreading, cock hard, red and long, almost kissing his belly button, hands behind his back, muscles big and flexed, face features darkened by his arousal, ravagedly fixed on you—fuck, you could come from the view.

You sink to your knees in front of him. Itch so fucking hard to take him in your mouth and make that energy paint you in white, but watching him like this—you plan something else entirely. Pressing one kiss on his V-line, you glide your lips upon the tip of his length, making him tremble in desperation. It takes all of your strength not to give it to him, but you know he will be overjoyed with the little thought that’s swarming in your brain.

“Where’s your fleshlight, baby?”

Jungkook loosens a hard, flabbergasted breath and his pretty, pretty cock twitches against your mouth.

You knew it.

You bought the toy together yesterday. It’s still unopened in a box somewhere in his bedroom; you don’t know where he hid it. He may have not wanted to spend money on it, but when you witnessed the way his eyes glowed, you convinced him to get it. Begged him. Told him you wouldn’t leave the sex shop until he bought it and he gave in, timidly. Much to your delight.

“In the closet,” Jungkook croaks out, clearing his throat and you kiss his other V-line as a reward, kitten licking his tip for a millisecond as you rise to your feet. He whimpers, again in desperation.

“You can’t get it, can you?” you taunt, lovingly, fingers hooking under your shorts and dragging them down your hips, your top following over your head. His eyes follow your every movement, fixing on your feminine parts, muscles bulging, yearning to touch you. You grow wetter, being looked at, being desired like that. “You’re just a helpless baby.”

He moans your name, signaling to you that there’s only so much he can take and you understand. You’re quick as you hurry to his bedroom, quick to find it, quick to pull the toy out of the box and quick to return to him.

There’s a trickle of his male arousal gliding down his length when you stand between his legs and your own desperation to pleasure him heightens in you—so much that you’re equally quick to unfold your plan.

You grab his chin and tip it up, harshly. Kiss him so nastily that he moans into your mouth and then… then you stare him dead in his eye. “I’m gonna put the fleshlight under bunny’s sister and you’re gonna show her how hard Daddy fucks his girls, yeah?” He’s left speechless, breathing rapidly, coated in sweat. Eyes narrowed, still darkened but now glowing with that familiar light that you saw yesterday, black irises piercing you through and through. “You should give her a name, though. Have something to moan when you fill her up, hm?”

It’s evident, the way his brain malfunctions, but he surprises you.

“Vinny.”

Vinny and Bunny, how adorable.

You coo, pecking him. “Vinny it is. Such a pretty name. I’m gonna make you nice and wet for her. Would you like that?”

“Please.”

You descend to your knees and you don’t hesitate to immediately take him into your mouth as far as you can. You gag around him, but you relax your throat, bobbing your head only slightly, testing yourself, wanting to stretch your throat out for him. Jungkook groans, squeaks little mewls as he doubles over once more, and the sound is so obscenely loud that your clit throbs harder in response and you would touch yourself if your craving to pleasure him wasn’t stronger.

You pull out until you can stack both of your hands on his length and while your tongue plays with his tip, you twist your wrists. Only briefly, just to make him feel a little better before you lick him all over—just to stay true to your words. And when it’s your name that comes out of his mouth once you slobber all over him, you withdraw altogether.

“Please… please,” Jungkook whimpers, trembling and you feel terribly bad for him. So much that you pucker your lips at him and kiss his cheek endearingly as soon as you get on your feet again, purposefully ignorant to the way your cunt likes his helplessness.

“I got something better for you, Daddy, don’t worry,” you reassure him, slipping into the dynamic your familiarity using the title. You grab Vinny and the fleshlight, placing her on top of the toy, on the armrest of the couch—her butt and her pussy facing him.

And when you glance at him to see his reaction to your artwork, you’re stunned by the look he gives you. Mad, mad stare. Awfully dark and menacing. It would disquiet you if didn’t know that he loved you. There’s no way you could take the liberty in toying with him like this, had you not become exclusive—had he not created a realm of safety for you to do that in.

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you for this,” Jungkook threatens and the sliver of normalcy in the middle of the role-play that he caught onto makes you giddy and feel so fucking alive. The threat, too. You quiver in anticipation and excitement, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re not walking after this.”

You laugh, softly, thrilled. “I sure hope so,” you say, grabbing a hold of his arm to lift him up. “I’m dripping for you.”

Jungkook hisses. Won’t budge. Remains seated, looking up at you. Doesn’t reciprocate your smile. Scowls, instead. “Can I taste you?”

You shake your head ‘no’, even if it emotionally pains you. “Not right now.”

He sighs and you take his arm again. This time he obeys—lets you lead him into the position that you want. On his knees, still on the couch, perfectly at level with Vinny’s pussy patiently waiting for him. Jungkook looks at her for a long time, studying the silicone shape of her clit and lips. You’re certain that if his hands were free, his thumb would’ve traced her soft vulva.

“Do you like her pussy?” you ask, your grin only widening, eyes blazing, emitting hot sparkles of light. You’re perhaps more excited and enthusiastic about this than he is.

Jungkook looks at her for a split second more before he flicks his intense gaze to yours. “Yours is prettier.” Your breath hitches in your throat and your heart follows its footsteps, skipping a beat, springing up and grazing your vocal cords. You can’t get a word out—you’re stupefied, in love, so impassioned that you resemble him with all that fire in you, taking after his energy buzzing in him. You sense the same movement in you, hotter, more vigorous. Your mouth parts and, cheeks awash with color, you’re on the verge of bursting. “Let me touch your little pussy, please.”

You bite your lip, pause a tiny bit just to regain your composure and you sigh, eventually, gripping his face in your hand, squishing his cheeks. “I said,” you start, emphasizing your warning just to see his flush deepen like you wanted. “Not right now. Can’t you listen?”

For a fleeting moment, there’s a heavy silence filled with his hard breaths.

Then, Jungkook glares at you.

“I’m gonna destroy you.”

You chuckle, girlishly—even though his threat yet again thrums within your skin, even though your body craves to submit to him, throw the playtime away, forget about it, entirely. “Talk all you want. See where it gets you.” With your other hand, you take his length and line it up at Vinny’s entrance. “Fuck her.”

Now—now he finally grins, a puckish smile that unnerves you a little bit, as if an idea crawled up into that smart brain of his.

And he proves you right.

“I’m gonna show her how I’m gonna fuck you,” he mutters, drawing closer to Vinny, to the arm rest. “Where’s the lube? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

A trickle of cold sweat trickles down your spine and it’s you who’s left speechless now. You were so quick to return to him that you did forget the lube, mind void of rationality, filled with him that you forgot such an essential thing. You swear under your breath, feeling stupid.

“Go get it before I rip this fucking belt apart and use it on you.”

Wordlessly, embarrassed with your head down, you go back to his room and fish for his lube in his bedside drawer, noticing that it’s where he keeps the vibrator for you. You haven’t used it in so long in your playtime and you reminisce, briefly, on the last time he made you come with it. On this very bed, on his lap with bunny on yours as he rearranged your guts with the toy on your clit—teasing you by lifting it and placing it between the plushie’s legs, acting for her and screwing up his features in pleasure.

Your heart thuds at the memory, your thighs sodden with your essence, and a certain expectation creeps within its chambers. The expectation that the toy will make a comeback tonight. That is, if you even deserve it.

You cringe at your wetness while your feet pad back to the living room. Jungkook stares you down, guilt written all over his face for being mean and it mollifies your negative feelings, dispersing them away from you. It’s enough for you—you don’t really want to talk about how you pitifully failed, nor do you want to hear a mention of it, but Jungkook seemingly does.

Up close, his eyes are awfully soft as if he made a mistake with his last words. You don’t think he did—he’s always been the leader in your playtime, so you deem he only did the right thing. Besides, you’ve worked him up to the point of anger, so from your standpoint, he didn’t do anything wrong. You did.

“Come here,” he says, gently, leaning in and angling his head. “Put your arms around me.” You do as he says, needing to, needing to be led for a little while before you can resume. You sink your fingers into his hair as you rest your forearms around his shoulders, even though all you want to do is rid him of his restraint and let him fuck it out of you. He kisses you with such tenderness that you whimper in sensitivity and amorousness, taking it one step further and moving your mouth against his, slipping your tongue inside. It’s a brief kiss, no matter its intensity, for he still has something to say. “You’re doing so well tonight. I never thought I’d ever get this hard from you being the boss of me. I’m sorry for snapping, you hear me?” he whispers against your lips, each movement causing his pillows to touch yours in faint, faint kisses that make your mind spin and your desire for him to lengthen across your whole body, deepening. You nod for him, hearing his words, needing them, too—glad for the honesty, for the check in, for the sliver of normalcy. “I’m just so horny and I need you. I didn’t mean it, okay? Daddy didn’t mean to talk to you like this. He loves you and you made him so needy that he’s frustrated, but it’s okay. He can handle it. Do you love your Daddy back, hm?”

You moan at the continuation of his words, running your fingers through his hair, inching closer to him until your chest softly collides with his. And his reassurement, the warm feeling of his skin, the potency of his love—it all erases your mistake, leaving only your sensual craving for him. You nod, again, like a little girl given a talking-to from her father, absorbing the lesson. “I love you.”

Jungkook hums, pleased, pecking you. “Good. I’m gonna do what you want now, baby. Gonna make you proud, listen to every word like a good Daddy, hm? You can do anything you want to me. You’d like that? You wanna keep going?”

You smile at him, sweetly, and he kisses your expression of contentment. It feels so good like this and you feel woozy, too. Sluggish, ready to be taken, on your way to cloud nine. You nod your head for the last time and squirt the lube all over him and Vinny’s intimate parts, your desire to take over him blending into your fuzzy feelings.

With your help, he slides inside her, both pairs of eyes watching the slick intrusion, then meeting at once—your simultaneous groans of delight merging, fading into one another, creating one beautiful, heavenly sound, unheard by all angels and celestial beings. You hold the fleshlight steady as he bottoms out, his mouth parted, brows furrowed, eyes so heavy-lidded as he devours your gaze, your face, the pleasure he feels so overwhelming that you almost think he can’t take it. The flexing of his abdominal muscles, the roll of his hips that takes all of his strength while his arms remain restrained behind his back, his neck shiny with a layer of sweat—fuck, the sight is to die for and you melt into something boneless, jelly and gooey; becoming just a hole for him.

You can’t wait for him to fuck you. Perhaps it’s you, after all, who can’t take it.

Jungkook begins to pound her, his mound hitting her clit with every hard motion and it strikes your awe. Your breathing quickens, the drum in your own bundle of nerves unwaveringly unbearable and what’s worse, he keeps fucking looking at you, perhaps imagining it’s your pussy that he’s ruining and your legs tremble, threatening to give out—

“Rub your pussy on the other end, please,” he begs, vocal cords so awfully strained, and this time you decide to gratify him.

The first moan that your mouth emits makes him fuck the toy harder—so much that it slips out of your grasp. You prop your knee on the armrest, flattening Vinny’s face on the edge of the toy, so you can gain the friction you so desperately need and it works. Your cunt soaks her sleepy countenance and you flick your eyes to it, watching the fur get darker with each rock of your hips.

“Look at me,” he grunts—and you do. A hint of softness in the dark sea of his eyes, boisterous waves of arousal sloshing to and fro. “Use her like I am. Hard—” He shows you how by a stroke that reverberates through your body, stimulating your clit by bumping into it. “And then fast.” Quick thrusts that waggle with your form, your curls bouncing against your spine.

And so you match his rhythm. It stimulates you far more than the pace you had going for yourself, your orgasm enclosing around you, inching closer and closer with each graze of your clit against the now more firm plush fur. Your brows knit, the coil in your stomach tightening to the point that it’s you who ultimately takes over and Jungkook follows, matching your rhythm, fucking Vinny faster—the silicone squeaking with each deep plunge of his length into her hole that causes your tits to slap against each other. But Jungkook doesn’t look at them. No, his eyes are set on you and you know that he knows that you’re about to come.

Jungkook begins to pant, marked chest flushing, adorning him most finely. The knowledge is getting him there, too. “You close, baby?”

You moan, sucking in a breath. “So close, I’m gonna come.”

He moans with you, approving of it. “Come, then, I wanna watch you. Make her nice and wet for me, hm?” You rock your hips faster—closer and closer, gripping Vinny with all your might. “I wanna touch you so bad, princess. Kiss you everywhere. Lick that little clit. Fuck you until all that you know is my fucking name. Please—”

You come so hard that it takes both you and Jungkook by surprise, your body violently shuddering and colliding into his. He groans, deeply, following in suit, your orgasm triggering his and he sloppily fucks the toy while he watches you ride out your high, bliss enveloping you in angelic glow.

“Yes, princess, just like that, fuck. You’re so pretty. My pretty little girl, coming so hard. Yes, fuck.” He’s losing himself, moaning your name over and over until there’s nothing left to give to Vinny, until he’s so spent that he sits back on his feet, eyes closing and opening, tongue licking his dry lips. He moans your name again, in post-high. “Please, get the belt—”

You don’t hesitate. With blurry vision and sex hormones swirling in your brain, numb by your intense orgasm, you edge around him and rid him of his restraint, flinging it somewhere away from the both of you, hating it, not wanting to see it again.

You and Jungkook exchange a look full of soft smiles and love, with his joy like a cherry on top of that. He twists his wrists, standing up to his feet, the size difference and the sudden change in energy causing him to grow solemn. No smiles, though the love remains. You feel it thumping in the atmosphere you’re surrounded by as he completely overpowers you, naturally. And you welcome it, needing it—needing to be dominated and fucked until you’re brainless.

“I love watching you come,” Jungkook murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and cradling the side of your face. “It’s all I want to see for the rest of my life. Every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to sleep. It’s everything to me.”

It moves through you, his words, almost painfully with their vigor and passion, passing down your body until they settle in your core. You drip for him. Still feel so terribly lightheaded and high. “Just that, huh?”

“And your snores.”

You punch his arm. Jungkook laughs and gathers your hair, pulling it away from your face, stroking it down your back. A grin of your own curls your mouth. You don’t snore, at all. And you tell him.

“You do when you’re tired.” You gasp, lifting your hand again but he catches it in time, intertwining your fingers with his. “You did such a good job today. You learn well from me. Sounded just like me. Made me proud.” He strokes your hair again and you lean into his touch, even though you don’t believe him. You could’ve done a lot better and it could’ve ended just like you planned—fucking him with that fleshlight. You guess you can save that for another time.

You shake your head. “I messed up.”

“But you didn’t.” He angles his head, inching closer so the gravity of his words can pierce your mind, but it does no such thing. You still have one of your own. Solid as a rock.

“No, I shouldn’t have forgotten the lube. It ruined everything.”

Jungkook sighs, drawing back, fondling the back of your hand before he lets go of it and clutches the nape of your neck. “Sex isn’t meant to be perfect. You didn’t ruin anything, why do you think that?” He looks at you for a long time, but you can’t take it—you drop your gaze, still feeling terrible. He calls you by your name, firmly. “Who made you think sex is meant to be perfect, huh? Bring them to me.”

You laugh, softly, at the ridiculousness of his question. It’s him who owns your virginity—you’ve never been with anyone else before him. It’s your own expectations that make you think that. “Right here.” You point to your brain.

Jungkook kisses your forehead. Lingers there, giving you a million tiny pecks, as if erasing everything from there that he doesn’t like. It touches you, deeply, and you can’t stop yourself from submitting to it as it melts your brain. Your mouth rounds in a pout, your bottom lip jutting out and when he gazes down upon you and sees it, he coos at you, kissing it. “I made a mistake, too, didn’t I?” You remain silent—still think he didn’t do anything wrong. “But it was still amazing and we came together, didn’t we?”

He’s right; you’ll give him that. “You really liked it?”

He pecks you, vehemently, on the lips and then points to the fleshlight behind him in all its glory, dripping with cum. So much fucking cum that it makes a puddle on the hardwood floor. “Do you think I would’ve cummed this much if I didn’t? Tell me, baby.”

You swear, unable to take your eyes off of the quantity of his male essence. It draws you in, magnetically, and you obey its call, lifting the fleshlight with your hands, turning around so Jungkook sees and darting out your tongue—

“Don’t.”

You swipe the muscle across the silicone hole, collecting his ivory arousal. Most of it trickles down your neck and bare chest and it’s Jungkook now who swears, loudly. Grabs you by your waist and, flinging the toy away, he kisses you. You didn’t even have the time to swallow. He’s tasting himself on your tongue and it causes you to moan into his mouth. He taps the back of your thighs and you jump, wrapping your legs around his torso. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but at this point you give zero fucks.

His tender bedding grazes your back when he lays you down on it with a harsh thud, breaking the kiss and taking your breath away. Bottom lip between his teeth, he studies your soiled body with his cum, kneeling on the bed by your form. He takes his first two fingers and collects his evidence of pleasure, flicking his eyes to yours. You meet him halfway, expecting him to plunge those digits in your mouth and you’re ecstatic, wanting it badly, but Jungkook pushes you down.

In fact, he turns you around—ass up, face down. With just one hand.

You swear, your arousal gaining new intensity. And it’s your needy hole that he plunges his fingers in, briefly stuffing you with his cum, placing his free hand on your lower back so you can arch your spine for him more. Then, he rubs your clit in hard, slow circles, making you cry out, making your legs tremble all over again—

A spank. A brassy, cacophonous spank that drives you forward, forcing you to grip onto the sheets.

“I told you not to do that, didn’t I?” Jungkook rasps. Doesn’t alleviate the burn. “Answer me.”

Fuck. “Yeah, you told me not to do that.”

You brace yourself for another spank, but it doesn’t come. You feel his lips by your ear, his body heat cocooning you as he bends over you, his fists, pitifully, on either side of your back.

“You’re such a filthy little girl. Licking my cum off like that? Making me hard all over again for you?” he tsks, the sound making you even needier. For him, for his cock, even for another spank. You grind your ass against his hip and he maneuvers so his cock slips between your cheeks. Swears, such guttural noise that you mewl in response. “You just do what you want, huh? I guess you don’t love your Daddy anymore.”

He spanks you again, harder than before, and your vowel of disagreement breaks at the concoction of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. “No—no, I love you.”

Another spank. Lips by your ear again, his body clinging to your side. “You love me?” He clamps your mouth shut, preventing you from answering.

You do, anyways, your words muffled. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Jungkook hums in question. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.” He digs his fingers harder into your cheek, other hand rounding around your hip and attacking you with bolts of pleasure that make you quiver against him—rubbing your clit rapidly before he sinks his fingers inside you… and merely keeps them there.

You move his hand away and he lets you, holding it, panting. “I love you so much.”

Jungkook groans, sinking his fingers deeper. “Who do you love, hm?”

He wants you to say his rightful title and you do, with all your heart. “You, Daddy. I love you.”

At your words, Jungkook begins to pump his fingers and you cry out, placing your head on his palm, taking it. “Such a good fucking girl, making me crazy—” He growls, pressing a fat kiss on your cheek, curling his fingers slowly into that place that causes your breath to hitch in your throat, your orgasm quick to catch up to you. “Good little girl that loves her Daddy, fuck. I’m gonna give you everything. Gonna eat that little pussy, hm? You want that? Want Daddy to make you come with his tongue?”

You squeak when he gives you one particular, hard stroke against your special place, mind numbing, a dam broken. “Yes, yes, please, Daddy, please—”

He draws away, instantly. Traces your back with his palms as he straightens, smearing your feminine essence all over your skin that he licks up. And then, his mouth—

Jungkook takes you in his mouth. All of you. Licking against your clit, sucking it, rubbing his face in your cunt and groaning against her. His hands squeeze your ass, painting it redder and he flicks your little bundle of nerves with his tongue until he senses your orgasm. Then, he pulls away for a second, stalling it. Thumbs your other, puckered hole.

“My pretty little pussy. All mine.”

Mewling, you shake your ass for him and he growls, cursing, spanking your cheek, taking the flesh in his hand and squeezing it. Again and again, until you feel yourself drip, until you feel him spread your legs wider and nudge himself between them, opening his mouth for it to trickle down upon his tongue.

“Sit up. Ride my face.”

You moan before you even obey, sitting down on his tongue and grinding your pussy on it. He rolls it against you, back and forth, following your rhythm. Slow and romantic, kissing your clit every once in a while, sucking it as you keep up your movement, inching dangerously close to your orgasm. He’s in absolute control of you, though. Of your pleasure and climax, stalling it before beckoning it forth again. You lose yourself in it, in the profound and all consuming delight toying with all your nerve endings, creating something within you that diffuses you with confidence and allure, that inclines you to ride him harder, whimper a little louder and knead your breast until you leave your handprint in your wake.

He lets you do your thing, but as you saw earlier today, there’s only so much that he can take.

Clasping your hips, he angles them until your hole is at level with his nimble tongue, guiding you to lean back and use his chest to hold yourself steady. And like his fingers, he fucks you with the muscle, curling it each time. The filthy noise of your slick and his saliva, his breaths and hums, your obscene moans and then his thumb rubbing your clit rapidly—it’s enough, with his evident permission, for you to come.

And you come so hard that you sprinkle his face with your dew.

He laughs in utter joy, humming—humming deeply and you’re so obsessed with that sound that you come again, shuddering violently and he spanks you, holds you by your waist, digging in his fingerprints, allowing you to ride out your high, to use him until you’re so boneless that you slump against him.

Jungkook drags you down, though, slipping, instantly, his cock inside of you. And it’s wild, wild butterflies that you feel in your gut owing to it, then pain so acute that you whine. Enveloping his arms around you, tightly, with no way of escaping, his wet face is so tender that you coo at him amidst the rush of your colorful feelings. Wipe away your dew, giggling, kissing him loudly as his cock adjusts in you and the bite from overstimulation withers little by little.

“You can take it, I know you can,” Jungkook whispers, beaming up at you, iridescent. “You feel so good around me. So tight. I love being inside of you.”

Slowly, he begins to move, causing your features to scrunch up. In discomfort at first, then in relish as your stiffened nipples rub against the hardness of his chest.

“You’re my good little girl. You take everything I give you so well. So well.” Jungkook picks up his pace, gathering your hair in his fist. Doesn’t pull on it; merely holds it. You whimper, his words loosening the overbearing tightness of your walls. “I’m gonna take care of you. You’re just my little baby. Mine—” A hard thrust. Your eyes roll back. “My baby.”

“Yes, I’m yours,” you croak out and Jungkook takes your face in his hands and pounds into you until all you see is stars. Pretty, pretty twinkling stars.

Slapping skin, his grunts—you don’t even see your orgasm coming, coming over you so violently and yet in such an exhilarating way. Your dew forces him out, forces his chuckles out again and he brings you back to him, kissing you, plunging his cock back with ease.

You’re so lightheaded that you feel like an angel, soaring in the sky. An angel that years for something more. And you tell him. “Jungkook, please, I want the vibrator.”

He merely smiles at you, arm reaching over and pulling out the toy for you from his bedside table. Turning it on, you’re radiated by the light in his eyes and you whimper in impatience. Jungkook shushes you, like a baby, clicking on the intensity until he’s satisfied, placing it on your clit.

And then he gets up.

Pushes you against his closet, back against the wood, legs around his waist, vibrator on your clit and his hand clasped around your mouth, preventing your loud moans from escaping while letting you know how much he loves being in charge. Giving you hard strokes that secure him your soul on a silver platter before he fucks you so fast that you can’t see anything. Your surroundings are a blur while his face remains clear, painted in tortured pleasure for you as if he were holding himself back.

“Come for me, Daddy,” you beg under his palm, your sound muffled, but it seems that Jungkook understands you.

Pulling away, he turns you around and gets into position again. One hand around your mouth, the other holding the toy on your clit, his dick inside. He begins to play with you, not moving his hips at all, only the vibrator. Panting against the crook of your neck, he takes a second to merely breathe with you while you’re on the pathway to another mind blowing orgasm because he turns up the intensity. “How about you come for Daddy first, hm? I know you don’t need me to move when we do this. You can come just like this. So come.”

And you do, embarrassingly, whining all over the place, twisting your hips to chase your pleasure, causing him to emit the same sounds—causing him to pound you so hard against his closet that he, too, comes in mere minutes. His fingers in your mouth, he’s loud and just as whiny as you, fucking you through his orgasm as you play with digits, sucking on them.

He doesn’t pull away for a long time. Presses you against his chest and holds you like that, still connected. The vibrator buzzes on the floor, the air is stuffed, but you’re content, the happiest angel, held and stuffed, too. With cum and dick. Heaven on earth.

Jungkook begins to kiss your neck, marking you there. Fondles your nipples, making you shudder and sigh, making you utter the three words that he deserves.

“I love you, Ggukie.”

Jungkook makes a sound that tears you apart. A whimper; the whiniest you ever heard him be. He pulls out of you, but stuffs you again with his fingers. Makes you squirt in record time, kissing you everywhere he can reach. Neck, shoulder, jaw, cheek and lips.

You must be soaring again in the clouds because you can’t feel your body, especially not when Jungkook says, “I love you, my little squirter.”

Your knees do give out, after all. Jungkook is quick to pick you up and cradle you in his arms. Wash you clean in the shower. Put on a movie for you while making you food, joining you as soon as he can.

It’s love you feel—love most profound. And as you eat the food together and finish the wine with drenched Vinny on the other side of the couch, you fall asleep with that love thrumming in your heart.

You’ll be his for the rest of your life. And he’ll be yours, too.

BACK to masterlist

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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mdsbabygirl · 29 days ago

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Sex with Nagi Seishiro

Pairing: Nagi Seishiro x FEM!reader

Genre: Smut

Wc: 797

Cw: use of pet names, very lazy Nagi, shafting, cowgirl, fingering, eating out, cockwarming, mentions of Doggystyle, a bit of biting idk ... NOT PROOFREAD

Notes: as usual this is rushed, but I really wanted to write some smut so here it is loveys... Once I'm done w exams I hope I'll start writing some longer fics, and also draw some fanfics of our lovely men idk...

Sex with an extremely lazy Nagi would most likely revolve around finding the most effortless and enjoyable ways for the both of you to get what you want. He would likely prefer positions that minimize movement and maximize relaxation. For instance, I think the spooning position would be one his favs. Like, just imagine laying on your sides facing the same direction, as Seishiro gently thrusts inside you from behind. This position would be ideal as it allows for intimate, slow, and sensual lovemaking without needing him to make great efforts.

I think he'd also pepper kisses on your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as he softly bites your supple skin, when you clench too hard on him, "ungh..Angel, not too tight.. ha.. don't wanna cum yet"

Another one of his fav positions would be cowgirl. Our lazy Nagi would just lay on his back, stay cozy on your soft bed, while you move up and down in his big cock, your sensual and precise movements making him feel heavenly. He wouldn't just like this position for the comfort and the pleasure, but also because he enjoys seeing his pretty gf getting off on his dick, looking super pretty for him as her boobs bounce and her mouth is wide open to let out all those sweet moans he so much loves to hear.

"Ahh.. yes just like that, yes.. oh fuck.. you're so damn pretty!" He'd gently murmur as he looks intently at you, savoring both the immense pleasure you're giving him and your beauty.

Another potential scenario could involve Seishiro using his tongue to great effect, as this requires little to no movement on his part. He may opt for extended oral sessions, taking his time to explore every inch of your wet throbbing cunt with his lips and tongue, savoring each taste and texture. He'd also involve some fingering if he's feeling extra, using those long thick digits to great use.

He'd gently insert one finger at a time, making sure your pussy adjusts to their size before adding another. His fingers would go at a slow pace at first, taking his time to savour the way your body reacts to him. Then once he feels you got a bit more used to his ministrations, his digits would delve deeper, sliding in the depths of your warm wetness.

He massages your inner walls with deliberate strokes, pushing in and curling his fingers, eventually finding your g-spot with ease. He circles it gently, making you see Stars.

When it comes to climax, Nagi may not want to expend any extra energy. In this case, the "shafting" technique, would work best. He'd penetrate you from behind, his hard cock pushing past your slick folds and filling you up so perfectly, so that, then he lets you rub your puffy clit to orgasm. Sometimes you'd ask him to do it, and with a little sight he obliges, because you're his sweet loving gf and he's more than willing to make a little more effort to please you ... But tbh, I feel like he'd get bored quickly so instead he just starts pounding you, holding you by the waist and moving you on his dick like some kind of Fleshlight, until the both of you cum.

In addition to being as lazy as a sloth, Nagi is an avid gamer. Which means that it's unlikely he'll stop gaming if you're horny.. sorry 😔.. BUT.. BUT, he would tell you that you're more than welcome to sit on him, and cockwarm him while he's playing.. which is why, most of your intimate moments are just some long cockwarming sessions that end up in you riding him or using your vibrator while still moving on his dick ....

Omg wait... Nagi does enjoy using toys.. heck yeah he does, he finds them entertaining. But not just any toys, the ones that are remote controlled like vibrators and whatnot. Now hear me out, what if Nagi asked you to play a game w him, and he told you the loser had to endure some kind of punishment... Hehe, punishment..

So you lose eventually, and then he pulls out a little purple vibrator and proceeds to pleasure you with it until overstimulation.. and he doesn't stop there, no no no ... He does not, he'll pull his large hardness and proceed to fuck you as he keeps overstimulating you, making you squirm, shake and moan his nane like a prayer. You'd beg him to stop, ask him for a moment of rest with teary pleading eyes, but he wouldn't stop, insisting that losers get their punishment no matter what.

"You lost Angel! Maybe next you'll learn to play better!"

Pov: me who loses on purpose just to get pounded by him...

#seishiro nagi #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi smut #seishiro nagi x reader #seishiro nagi smut #bllk smut #bllk x you #bllk nagi #bllk fanfic #nagi fanfic #blue lock nagi #blue lock smut #nagi seishiro smut

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valtrieys · 1 year ago

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★ pairing : bf!chan x reader

★ warnings : smut (ofc) , degrading , some praising , chan calls reader interesting words (whore) kinda mean!chan, d&s dynamics , jealousy , daddy kink (mentioned like 2 times) , overstimulation at the end

★ a/n : this was a draft for a good while and was the original for my second work (sexting w chan) so lmk how it is....

Is this what you wanted? —- do you like it when you make me mad, so I can fuck the brat out of you?"

"n—no," you choked out desperately trying to show that he doesn't have an effect on you

you were currently laid on chan's desk in the studio, his work and things long forgotten on the floor as he couldn't bother with them, not anymore at least

chan was thrusting his hips into you, pace rapid and rough, your mind only being flooded with the feelings of immense pleasure that were going throughout your body,

your senses being heightened to the max, feeling extra aware of your breathing and way blood ran to your head-

"I don't think so baby, you seem to be enjoying yourself," he says with a shit eating grin before throwing his head forward to nibble on your shoulder

the pleasure building up in your stomach becomes too much that you can't hold in your moans anymore, toes curling and eyes rolling to the back of your head

not wanting to give chan the satisfaction he so desperately wants, you try to cover your mouth but he beats you to it and grabs both your wrists holding them up

not being able to say anything without sounding straight up pornographic, you simply bury your head into his desk where his work once was, cheeks running hot

he knows the effect he has on you

he can't ever help himself from teasing you, seeing your flustered face each time he does it, your image so beautiful when it happens,

he can never help the feelings of excitement rushing through him leading all the way to the tip of his thick and veiny cock

"look at me or I'll stop," he threatens, his voice projecting throughout the room, he feels you tighten to his deep and hoarse voice

not being to think properly without the constant thought of the way his cock was filling you to the brim, or the way his punishing thrusts made you feel things you have never felt before,

finally as you go to turn your head, one of chan's hands that was previously holding your hands up moves over, suddenly he's holding onto your chin forcing you to look at his face,

the eye contact you both hold is full of lust and desire, chris examines your face through his hooded eyes, looking at you as his you were a piece of art, his piece of art. all his.

"fuck- look at you. you are mine, all mine,"

he wasn't asking, he was letting you know that you were in his possession, that you are bonded with him forever.

"yes, all y-yours," answering his declaration of your forever bond although knowing what he truly meant, hands moving to grip the corner of his desk in order to stabilize yourself a bit more

"chan, fuck. I'm so close," whispering out, leaving your mouth ajar after letting chris learn the new source of information that you let out,

"my personal whore is gonna come, yeah?" his accent thickens towards the end of the sentence, voice presenting false sympathy adding onto his the pout he was giving you.

moving his hands to go knead your ass giving a few slaps here and there that would definitely leave your skin red for atleast a couple of hours, he slows his pace, slowly rolling his hips into you giving you the full experience of his length.

you let out a choked moan, chris feels the way your walls tighten against him, your close and he knows it

"let it all out for daddy," he hisses out, a mix of his and your sweat sticking to his skin, his face red from the heat of the room,

finally letting yourself cum after holding it in until you were given the permission to do so, riding out your high until you finally came back from the heavenly experience

stringing out whines from the overstimulation of chan still continuing his pace of abusing your tight cunt, "just- a little more baby," he huffs out trying to reach his high

"fuck- you wanted this- don't complain and let daddy do what he needs to," his eyebrows furrowing when you try to whine once more, your whole body sore after a good fuck.

his hips finally start to stutter as he approaches his high, letting out his load inside of you, "my good girl," he sighs putting his chin on your shoulder.

moving you over so he could face you, he pushing your wet hair back finally giving you a peck on the forehead

"my baby did so well for me," he chuckles, his aura completely changing after the fact

"thank you channie," you whisper showing your appreciation for him.

finally adding on as he started to gather both of your clothing, "sorry, for earlier. I didn't know he was flirting with me, I thought he was just being extra nice," staring down at the floor avoiding any eye contact, your voice showing the embarrassment of not being able to take hints.

"yeah, I noticed. just wanted to make sure you know who you belonged to."

#skz smut #straykids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz hard hours #skz x reader #bang chan drabbles #bang chan imagine #bang chan x reader #bang chan #bang chan fanfic #chan x reader

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honey-on-your-tongue · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day One: bottom

Kinktober Masterlist

Female reader x Miguel O'Hara

Miguel has had a long day. Work was tough, people were annoying; he's been looking forward to getting home to you all day.

The moment he walks in through the door, you can see his exhaustion written all over his gorgeous face. “You okay?” you ask him as he plops down beside you on the bed.

He huffs. “Long day,” he murmurs.

“Long day?” you repeat, running your fingers through his hair, your desire pooling between your thighs when he groans softly at the gesture. “I can help with that...”

It's not twenty minutes later that Miguel is under you, his cock hard and twitching, just about milked dry.

You keep riding him, not giving him a break, forcing orgasm after orgasm from him.

He whines, eyes shut tight, forehead shiny with sweat.

“P-please!” he cries, his fingers digging into your hips, his sharp fangs biting down on his lower lip. “Please!”

You keep riding him, enjoying the mess of his cum dripping out of you, mixing with your slick and making his lower abdomen sticky. “Please, what?”

“P-please! I-I can't—! Fuck!” He whimpers, eyebrows furrowed as if in pain, but he's enjoying himself immensely. He's torn between too much pleasure and not enough. He can't put that into words, though; he can't even fucking think straight. Not with the way your cunt clenches around him.

You kiss his jaw, his neck, biting the soft skin of his collarbone. “What are you asking for?”

“Please, please! I need to—!” He whines lowly, eyes rolling into the back of his head as you run your nails down his chest. “Please, ma'am, please, fuck me more.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What did you just call me?” you ask, clit throbbing, pussy dripping everywhere.

Miguel blushes, shy and suddenly embarrassed, surprised that the word left his lips without his permission. “Ma'am,” he says softly, his breathing heavy.

You grin, riding him faster, rougher, getting off on the amount of pleasure he's getting. “Say it again.”

“P-please, ma'am,” he whines, gasping. “Please!”

“You're such a good boy,” you say, smirking as you bite his jaw.

He whimpers, a soft, thick sound that rumbles through him. He's shaking underneath you, his hips bucking up to meet your movements, his body losing control.

And then he comes again, spilling what little is left of his warm, sticky seed into you. He grunts, biting his lip, eyes shut tight as he gasps. He shudders under you, whining almost as if the excessive pleasure ached him. He falls limp then, breathing heavily, slight tremors taking over him.

You smile down at him. “Oh, baby, I'm not even close to done with you yet.”

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*should I start a kinktober taglist???

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@yagirlheree @sukioyakio @obi-mom-kenobi @celestia80s @manlikemilesmyguy @zaunsin @naniiiii12 @everlastlady @avatar-lover @siidmm @dhollandhs @spikedhe4rt @missing2socks @itzraven101 @miguelspookiebear @mochikomochisoft @sunset-euphoria @kishibeswh0re @m4dyy @icreatedthisat317am @keiva1000 @jakescumdump @ravisinghs-wife @tengens4th--wife @oceancerulean @pookiesmookie69 @juwandiko @aisyakirmann @ninebluehearts @vampireluvvr @saturnstringz @4imhry @iheartlinds @pigeonmama @eyweveng @braverthanthenewworld @livingwithinyou @switchiest @httpstoyosi @lyn-soso @6thhokageswife @normsdaughter-alt @thel0velykey190 @tojibreedingme

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Blog masterlist

#kinktober #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fic

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allur1ngs · 1 year ago

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✮ see no evil, hear no evil ✮

TW: unedited, smut (dom & top!bada, sub & bottom!reader, teasing, strap usage–r!receiving, reader tries to ride bada’s strap for a bit before bada takes control, bada is very cocky in this one…idk mafia bada is just always so cocky to me during sex, bada’s strap is referred to as a cock/dick, exhibitionism, bada doesn’t receive again, sorry…, erm… dumbification, hyo hears you and bada fucking two times, she will never rest…), italicized words with quotes around them in this fic indicate a thought, and in a long block of text indicate a flash back, the picture in the middle purely for aesthetics/a visual aid and not meant to represent reader’s skin tone or body type!! this is entirely canon divergent and not a part of the mafia au timeline!!!!!!!!!!! if you want to read the canon version of this scenario, read this

SUMMARY: hyo will always be a dedicated bodyguard. she takes pride in the fact that she is able to stay by your side each day, and protect you. the only downside? she has to exercise immense amounts of self-restraint when she stands outside your bedroom or office door, and hears bada fucking you.

WC: 5.6k

A/N: an anon asked it so we did it!! a collab w my wife @bebeyue, make sure to read her continuation of this by clicking the three ellipsis at the end of this fic (this is a threat)!!!! this is the only time i’m cosigning on any form of hyo content–i make exceptions for aeri–so enjoy this one piece!! (ps. pls do not send any requests for hyo–i’m only writing for bada!!) but besides that, again, this is a “behind the scenes” of this drabble, but uses this fic as an opening, pls enjoy!!

DISCLAIMER: all characteristics portrayed are purely speculation and fiction, they are not meant to reflect bada or team bebe’s actual character, values, or attitudes. please keep this in mind!!

Kim Hyo is a diligent bodyguard, and no one can deny that fact. Although Bada may at times nitpick at things she does, she can’t dismiss Hyo’s commitment to her job as your bodyguard. Through thick and thin, she’s been there, watching over you. Early mornings and late nights, her presence is never far.

Take, for instance, the current situation unfolding between you, Bada, and Hyo.

"I'm starting to think you really do want us to get caught." Bada’s voice comes from inside her office, and leaks into the hallway. Coincidently, you’d accidentally left the door open when you entered to hand your faincée her glasses. Now that accident left you in a rather compromising position.

Hyo stands outside Bada’s office, her back against the wall as your fiancée eats you out and toys with you. She’s not exactly sure what is specifically happening inside but from the sounds of moans, you’re enjoying what Bada is doing to you.

"I-I don't." You answer your fiancée’s prior statement, a hint of shame creeping into your voice.

"There you go again," Bada says, tapping her tongue against the roof of her mouth in displeasure.

Hyo hears a shuffling sound and then another moan rings out from the office, this time the sound is significantly louder–she lets out a sharp breath and clutches her hands tightly together in front of her, struggling to keep up her professionalism.

"Do you enjoy lying to me?" Bada continues.

Trying to distract herself, Hyo forces herself to think of something else. “What are we having for dinner tonight–” She begins a thought, but it’s interrupted by the sound of Bada’s stern voice speaking up again.

"Should I make you cum like this? Make you fucking cum all over your panties as punishment?"

“No.” You squeak, "Please--"

“The Boss is being very stern this time.” Hyo finally manages to collect herself enough to think a clear, coherent thought. “The last time this happened–” Her thought is interrupted by another that invades her mind.

“Be honest, you like that type of stuff–” Tatter’s amused voice echoes in your bodyguard’s mind, her entire body going rigid.

“Fuck.” She mentally curses, closing her eyes behind her sunglasses. “It’s not like that–” Despite what fibs Hyo may try to convince herself of, the mind never lies. It is the truest and most honest representation of thought.

So it’s natural that Hyo thinks of the night prior to this most recent excursion between you and Bada, when you’d engaged in such activities.

The day had begun normally, much like today had, until certain events led your bodyguard to a cruel fate.

3 days earlier

Standing on the steps of the Lee mansion, you beckon over your wife. “Come here,” you say, voice brimming with excitement.

Bada, who’d just spoken to Hyo, and asked her to bring around her Porsche 918 Spyder, turns to look up at you standing on the second step of the stairs toward the open driveway. “Coming.” She says, dismissing Hyo as she ascends the steps in your direction. When she reaches the step you’re standing on, positions herself behind you and starts to trail kisses up and down your neck. “Have I told you that you look beautiful? I love this dress…”

“You’ve only told me five times already.” You laugh while reaching into the pockets of your dress–a feature that you reverently appreciate–to pull out your phone. “But thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” She mumbles into your skin, dragging her nose up and down while continuing to press heated, wet kisses on the crook of your neck.

“Bada, I want to take a picture.” You huff, trying to focus on opening the camera app on your phone.

“Take one then, I’m not stopping you.” She replies, never slowing down her sweet assault on your neck.

“I can’t when you’re kissing me.” You argue back lightheartedly.

“Just angle the phone so I’m not in frame–”

Not convinced, you gently shy away from Bada’s lips. “I’ll let you give me kisses after I’ve taken the picture. Just two seconds, alright?”

“Fine.” Your fiancée pouts as she wraps her right arm under your boobs, unintentionally making them pop.

You barely notice as you lean back into her chest and hold up your phone, closing your eyes and smiling for the picture. But Bada does. She sees the way the skin of your tits shine in the low light, and how the picture looks incredibly intimate, like it’s something not meant to be seen by foreign eyes. She leans in, completely entranced by the photo, and your reflection–

The moment slips away like a gentle whisper in the breeze as you slowly open your eyes and your smile widens at the picture. You don’t comment on the nature of the photo, only saying, “It’s so cute, I have to post it on Instagram!” Which you quickly do, all the while Bada remains silent, moving her head back into the crook of your neck.

The kisses she’d given you prior, although passionate, are nothing compared to the heat with which she charges the kisses she places on your skin now. She uses just the tip of her tongue and drags it across your neck, which makes you freeze, and a puff of air leave your lips.

“Maybe we should stay in.” She whispers between kisses.

“Bada, you made reservations.” You mumble, bringing your hand up to the side of her head, clutching onto strands of her long, black and white striped hair. At the same time, Hyo pulls up in the Porsche. She parks it right in front of you both, then turns to face you, but when she catches sight of the intimate moment you two are sharing, she instantly faces forward and clears her throat. She tries to make it seem like she’s not listening to what either of you are saying, but your close proximity makes it almost impossible.

“Fuck the reservations,” Bada says into your skin, winding her other arm around your midsection–again making your tits pop out. “It’s been a while since we had sex.”

“Bada, Hyo is here with the car.” You whisper, using weak force to pull on Bada’s hair in an attempt to pull her off of your neck.

You succeed, but your fiancée is displeased. “So?”

“So,” you give Bada an astonished glance, “she can hear and see us–”

“She’s not even looking our way.” Bada points at Hyo, who’s scrolling through her photo albums, trying to busy herself. “She’s on her phone–” Your fiancée suddenly frowns, pressing you closer to her chest. “Hyo, why are you looking at your phone?”

Your bodyguard instantly sits up and snaps her head in Bada’s direction, looking like she’s about to break out in a cold sweat. “Sorry Boss, I was just…uh–”

“Oh stop picking on her.” You gently swat at your fiancée’s arm and break away from her hold, quickly grabbing her hand and practically dragging her forward. “Let’s just go and eat dinner like we’d planned–”

Although you’re not able to see, Bada sends Hyo a look that screams, “You ruined my plans,” as you force her into the car.

Hyo gulps, moving to face forward and placing her hands on the wheel of the car.

Yeah, she’s in for it.

The rest of the night surprisingly goes without a hitch after that. After leaving the Lee mansion, Hyo had proceeded to drive you two to the La Yeon, an upscale restaurant that serves traditional Korean cuisine, and only caters forty guests at a time. Bada had reserved a private room for you both to dine, so naturally Hyos stood outside as watch, only hearing small noises from your lively chatter.

But the real hell began on the car ride back to the Lee mansion.

The three of you had been sitting in a peaceful silence when you suddenly spoke up, curiosity striking you, "Just how much did you have to pay for the private room we ate in?"

Bada nonchalantly shrugs, "Not much."

"Somehow, I doubt that," you banter.

Bada shifts her gaze from staring straight ahead to glance at you. "Well, it wasn't much for me."

"Ah, that makes more sense," you nod, releasing a small laugh. "But you know, you don't have to take me to fancy restaurants. I'd be happy to spend time with you, no matter where we do it."

Your fiancée shakes her head, "I don't take you out of obligation. I do so because I love you. I want you to experience establishments that are worthy of your presence."

Turning your attention to Bada, you gaze at her through the barely-lit car. Her eyes reflect deep sincerity, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Bada... I'm just a woman—"

"You're not just a woman," she interrupts, her eyes stern yet holding glints of love behind the firmness. "You are my woman. My fiancée. What kind of spouse would I be if I didn't treat you?"

Bada's passionate gaze makes you turn away, your hand ghosting over your mouth as you grow bashful. "You can't just say things like that," you whisper, your voice meek and soft.

"Why? Does hearing how much I love you make you nervous?" Bada laughs, amused by your reaction.

"I just..." you trail off, struggling to find words to express your feelings. "I love you." Those three words are the only way to convey the warmth coursing through your body.

Bada smiles softly, grabbing your hand which you’d positioned in your lap. "I love you more."

You intertwine your fingers with hers, observing the way she affectionately runs her thumb over the gem on your engagement ring. "But you know," you suddenly add, prompting your wife to look up from your joined hands to meet your gaze. "you could have mentioned we were going to a Michelin-star restaurant. I felt a bit underdressed..." Your eyes shift down to the silky white dress you're wearing. While undeniably elegant, its somewhat scandalous design features thin straps supporting a teardrop-shaped neckline that accentuates your boobs, which gracefully twists into the bodice and tapers into the gown's lower hem.

"Underdressed?" Bada says incredulously. "You look absolutely beautiful–"

"All the other women were wearing name brands and elegant dresses–" you protest, but are cut off.

"What does it matter what they were wearing?" Bada furrows her eyebrows, genuinely confused by your words. “You could walk into this restaurant in your pajamas, and you’d still outshine every single one of those women.”

You let out a sharp breath, smiling shyly. “There you go again. I think you enjoy making me flustered.”

“If you’ve just barely realized that, I clearly have not been doing my job.” Bada laughs, gently squeezing your hand, which still remains in her grasp. “By the way, I thought I had thoroughly expressed how much I love the way you look, earlier.”

A fire lights in your stomach as you glance at her. “Well…”

“I really am not doing my job, am I?” Bada uses her unoccupied hand to gently touch the side of your face, and leans in. “I’ll just have to show you how beautiful you look in this dress.”

That last sentence sealed Hyo’s fate. She continued to drive as you let out small giggles, and Bada whispered things in your ear. What exactly she said, Hyo doesn’t want to imagine.

Upon arrival at the Lee mansion, you and Bada are a mess of scandalous whispers, and chuckles as you both ascend up the steps, your bodyguard lagging behind to park the car. But it seems you two are far too excited to keep your hands off each other, because when Hyo walks toward the Lee mansion steps after returning the Porsche to the garage, you’re both nowhere to be found. Your bodyguard rushes up the steps, mumbling curse words under her breath as she opens the door and races up the mansion’s winding staircase, heading toward the only place you must be, your shared bedroom.

When she makes it there, she instantly walks to the right side of the door, her back up against the wall. She lets out a small sigh of relief, glad that Bada was too busy to tell her off for lagging behind.

But then she hears it, a small sound, simple and tiny, innocent.

“Bada!” You squeal, while a creaking sound barely reaches Hyo’s ears. It sounds like you’d been thrown onto the bed.

Inside the bedroom, Bada moves to hover above you, planting either of her arms beside your head. She smirks down at you, her eyes sweeping over every sliver of your skin that’s available to her prying eyes. She leans in to rub her nose against yours cutely, watching how you crinkle yours and smile out of instinct. “You’re fucking adorable.” Bada breathes, then places a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I love you.” You whisper when she pulls away.

“I love you more.” She whispers back, moving her hand to grab at one of the straps of your dress. She thumbs at the silk until she slowly begins to move the strap down your shoulder, the movement so light a shiver runs up your spine as you watch her. When she fully slips down the strap of the dress, your bare tit is exposed to the cold air, which makes your nipple pebbling because of the sudden temperature difference. “No bra?” Bada presses her thumb against your nipple, starting to trace delicate, mithodical circles to the sensitive bud.

“The fabric is thicker than it looks–” You breathe, but the words die on your lips as your fiancée moves to drag the other strap of your dress down. Now both of your tits are exposed to Bada’s hungry eyes.

“I really love this dress.” She grabs either side of your boobs, pushing them together to oggle the way your flesh meets to make a tantilizing image. The soft skin of your tits glows in the light, and the way your nipples continue to pebble because of the cold has Bada captivated.

“I think you should take it off me.” You say coquettishly.

Bada stares at you for a moment with an excused expression before she releases your tits and sits up. “Actually, I had different plans for you.” She steps away from the bed, making her way to the dresser beside it before opening the bottom drawer. You turn your head to the side to watch with a confused expression, but what she pulls out from the drawer makes you smile.

Bada takes out a bottle of lube and her long, black strap, glancing at you from the corner of her eyes to see you carefully studying her every move with excitement in your eyes. “Looking forward to it, are we?” She remarks.

“Should I not be?” You flip over onto your stomach, placing your head in the palm of your hand as Bada begins to take off her dress pants and shirt. Like always, she only has her boxers and her bra on while she puts on her strap.

“Do you need help?” You pipe up.

Bada looks up and smiles. “If you’re offering.”

You quickly get off the bed and kneel down in front of your fiancée, helping her manuver through the harness and secure it onto her pelvis. When you’ve finished, you don’t stand up, instead, you look at Bada as you lean forward to press a kiss on the head of her cock, running your tounge along the silicone.

Bada lets a small hiss at your actions, her hand coming down to gently rest on your head. “C’mon.” She pats your head, signalling you to get up.

You do so without a single protest falling from your lips, but you take the bottle of lube out of Bada’s hand, pop it open and slowly place a glob of the sticky substance into the palm of your hand. Before your finacée can say anything, you lean in and place a passionate, all-tongue kiss as you rub up and down in cock, twisting your wrist like you’re really trying to give her a hand job.

Bada groans into your lips, grabbing the sides of your face and deepening the kiss until you’re just swapping saliva messily, small strings of it clinging to each other’s lips, connecting you two together. “Sit on the bed.” She whispers inbetween your clash of mouths.

You pause, then take a step back from your fiancée, your lips parted as you let out staggering breaths. Backing up until you feel the edge of the bed gently collide with your legs you sit down like you were told to.

Bada is quick to follow after you, but to your surprise, she doesn’t push your back onto the bed; instead, she climbs on and reclines against the bedframe with her back cradled by pillows. Her position makes her cock stand tall on her pelvis, the large head slightly drooping downwards when she slaps her thighs. “Sit on it.” She tells you, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

You tilt your head to the side in confusion but crawl towards her anyway, taking off your panties before placing your thighs on either side of her hips and sitting down just shy of her cock. “I thought you said you were going to show me how beautiful I look in this dress.” You lightheartidly banter. Truthfully, you don’t care who does the work, all you want is to have Bada’s dick inside you, tearing you apart. But, then again, if she was going to tease you, you might as well do it back once or twice.

“What, you can’t fuck yourself on my cock?” She laughs, stretching her arm out to place it on your right thigh.

“I can.” You huff, feeling embarrassment start to burn in the pit of your stomach.

“I don’t know.” Bada imitates a thinking face. “You’re kind of a pillow princess if I’m being honest.”

“Wha–” You stutter, your mouth dropping open. “I’ve eaten you out before.”

“And who was still in charge then?” Bada argues, her amusement growing every passing second.

“Well–”

“Listen to me.” Your fiancée suddenly cuts you off, leaning forward so that her face is only inches away from yours–her cock slaps against her stomach, the action going unnoticed by her, but not by you. “Fuck yourself on my dick, and if you do well, I’ll take over and finish you off.” She takes her left hand and places it on your cheek, rubbing her thumb against your cheek. She takes note of how your skin feels unnaturally warm. “Does that sound good, baby?”

Your eyes, which had gone wide out of pure shock stare back at her like lustrous gems. You slowly begin to nod, forcing yourself to close your mouth and swallow. Bada nods with you, then moves to rest against the headboard again, her back hitting the pillows.

Although the tone she’d taken on was domineering, she still holds one hands out for you to take, so she can help you up onto her cock, while the other bunches up your long dress so it’s not in the way. You, of course, take her hand and with her added strength, lift yourself up until the tip of her cock just barely slaps against your pussy lips. You let out a shaky breath at the small surge of stimulation, but focus on inching your hips downward. Slowly, the tip of Bada’s strap fills up your pussy, every inch making you breathe harder and your hips stutter. The slight confidence you’d felt just a moment before instantly fades away as you close your eyes and stop moving.

“It’s only the tip, I should be able to take more,” you think, but truthfully even just the tip of Bada’s long and thick strap would be hard for anyone to take.

“Don’t do it all at once.” Bada’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, making you open your eyes and look at her. “It’s big. You’ll hurt yourself.” She says tenderly. “Just take it slow.”

You listen to your fiancée, carefully and meticulously sinking onto her cock, taking small breaks in between every inch until you’re finally able to sit in her lap, every inch of her monsterously big cock inside of you. “Oh, fuck.” You pant, leaning forward to catch your staggering breath and to give your pussy a time to adjust.

Bada watches you with a fond smile on her lips, she leans in to press a small kiss on your cheek–which just so happens to angle her cock further into you, making you gasp. “You took it all, I’m so proud of you.” She whispers sweetly, the soft side she only has for you peeking through her dominant demenour.

“I–” You say through heavy breaths. “Fuck.”

“It’s alright, just breathe.” Bada grabs hands grab at the sides of your face, trying to ground you. “In and out honey, in and out.”

You try to take in a deep breath but it catches in your throat. Still, with Bada’s guidance, you slowly begin to calm your breathing until it settles into small puffs.

“There.” She mumbles. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” You nod, shaking your head. “Just…it’s been a while–”

“I know it has, which is why you need to take it slow baby.” Bada’s eyes flash with a small glint of worry. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not, just took a little longer to adjust.” You place your hand over Bada’s, now wearing a confident expression. “I can do it.”

Your fiancée gives you a hesitant look but slowly leans back, allowing you to take the reigns. You start off slow, moving up just an inch before sitting back down. Then the next time you go up you go a bit further, so on until you’re able to take out half of Bada’s strap before slamming back down on her lap.

You also start to pick up your pace, angling your hips forward so her cock drags against your walls deliciously. You let out small, breathy moans with each rise and fall of your hips, still trying to get more out of her strap. But it feels like you can’t. Every time you think you can take out more you feel your legs weaken and have to slam yourself down on her lap before you awkwardly fall.

All the while Bada watches you, carefully zeroing in on the base of her cock, which is only wet with a minimal amount of your slick. She catches every moment you struggle on top of her, trying so hard not laugh at how cute your frustrated face is. “Do you need help?” She asks after she notices you lose your rhythm and slam onto her lap with a small annoyed curse.

“No.” You say stubbornly. Trying to prove her wrong, you use all your strength to lift up from her cock and this time manage to get another inch out before you have to quickly go down again. This time the sensation is deeply pleasurable so you let out a louder moan, but in your attempt to savor the feeling you once again lose your rhythm.

“So, you still don’t want my help?” Bada tilts her head to the side, just barely able to stop herself from chuckling at the glare you give her. But this time, you don’t answer her, instead, you just pant on her lap, looking like a defiled angel in your silky white dress that’s clutched between Bada’s hand, the straps having fallen so far down your body that some of your stomach is revealed, the other covered by the tight bodice. “All you have to do is say yes, and I’ll keep my promise from before.”

Truthfully, beyond feeling bad for your current inability to pleasure yourself, Bada just really wants to fuck you. The dress you’re half wearing is still doing things to your fiancée, the contrast of the pure white against your skin, which is stained with sin and sweat makes her desire to slam her cock into you reach incalcuable heights.

Looking at your fiancée, you bite your bottom lip in thought. There are two ways you could go about this. You could keep trying to ride Bada and probably only give yourself half the pleasure she can, or you can say yes and let her fuck you like she said she would.

…The answer is obvious.

“Yes.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Without a single second to spare, Bada lets go of your dress and grabs ahold of your hips, flipping your positions with such quick speed that it leaves you dizzy and giggling.

Bada runs her hands up and down your figure for a moment, leaning down to place a kiss on one of your tits before placing one on the other.

“Put one of the pillows between your head and the headboard.” She tells you, pointing at a lone pillow beside you.

Confusion flows through you but you do what she asks anyway, propping the pillow on it’s side so it cradles the top of your head.

Bada gives you a smile, then takes both of your hands into hers. She coils her long fingers between yours and stretches her arms out so that your arms are held above your head. “I’ll show you how good my cock can feel.” She whispers into your ear, the words just barely leaving her lips before she takes out the entirety of her strap out of you and slams it back in.

The sudden fast and strong movement makes the headboard slam against the wall, and your head slides up, wich would have painfully hit the metal if it weren’t for the pillow Bada told you to put behind your head.

Your fiancée’s deep and fast stroke makes you let out a moan, your mouth falling open.

“Yeah,” Bada mumbles proudly. “Bet that felt so good after all that fooling around you did before.”

Outside of your shared bedroom, Hyo stands frozen in her spot, the sound of the slamming accoumpanied by your loud moan making her gulp. She hadn’t been able to hear a thing before this, which is why the sudden rancourous noise startled her, almost making her jump.

“It’s fine,” She tells herself. “They’re just…having fun, that’s all.”

But again, another loud slam followed soon after by your pleasure-filled cry leaks out of the bedroom, the sound echoing cruelly in Hyo’s ear.

“Fuck…” She squeezes her eyes shut.

Inside the bedroom, you don’t have the capacity to worry about about the fact that anyone in a five foot radius would probably hear you moaning and screaming like a whore, because your fiancée is fucking you within an inch of your life.

Like you’re a ragdoll, Bada takes you by the hips and angels them so that one is up in the air and the other lays on the bed, her cock slamming in and out of you at an insane speed. She’s moving so fast that your slick–which had tripled from what you produced when you were fucking yourself–is squirting onto her boxers and creaming at the base of her cock. It looks like a ring of sweet whipped cream against her thick black strap.

“I need to get this room sound-proofed.” Bada manges to say between heavy breaths. “You’re screaming like a fucking pornstar, baby.”

You’re unable to say anything, the only thing falling from your lips is moan after moan, which is somehow not overshadowed by the thundering sound of the headboard banging against the wall.

“Aw, have I fucked all the thoughts out of you?” Bada drives her cock into you in a deep stroke, hitting that sweet spot in you that has you seeing stars.

“Fuck!” You close your eyes, mind turning to mush as your fiancée quickly takes her strap out, the ridging on the silicone catching against your hot and gummy walls, giving you profound pleasure.

Another rush of slick follows the exit of Bada’s dick, strings of it clinging from your pussy to the black strap, connecting you both. It would be poetic if what you were engaging in wasn’t pure, unadulterated sin. Immoral is the way that your lover slams every inch of her cock into you, sweat and your essance falling onto the sheets, leaving a stain as a testament to your depraved doings.

Bada reaches over to take the silk of your dress into her hands again, flipping all of it upward so that she can properly see her dick splitting you apart, rubbing your walls and hitting the front of your clit perfectly.

“Not a single thought in that pretty head of yours, is there?”

Proving her absolutely correct, you don’t respond.

“That’s okay baby, you don’t have to think. You just have to lay there, looking pretty in this dress while I slam my cock into you.” The way Bada cooes into the hot air of your bedroom makes your eyes almost roll back into your head. She knows just what to say, and when to say it. “Keep moaning like that, it’s fucking hot.” She adds, her own cunt pulsing beneath the fabric of her boxers. The way she’s pounding her strap in and out of you so forcefully makes the base of it rub against her cunt harshly, the slight pain and pleasure mixing together to make the coil in her stomach slightly tighten.

Like the obedient slut you are for your fiancée, you let out one loud, scream of, “I’m close!”

That only serves to reinvigorate Bada, who quickly takes your leg which is up in the air and sets it on her shoulder, allowing her to push her entire pelvis into you with a fast and intense stroke, which again hits your g-spot.

That’s what finally makes the tight coil in your stomach burst, a long stream of cum gushing from your pussy as Bada continues to fuck you through your orgasm. Of course, you can’t help yourself. Every loud curse and moan that falls from your lips settles into the air of the bedroom before floating through the crack between the door and the wall, the sound reverberating in the hallway of the Lee mansion.

Hyo, who had been counting to one thousand in her mind with her eyes screwed shut and her head down, realeases a long breath. She shakily breathes in and out, applauding herself for her immense self-restraint.

“It’s over.” She thinks, the voice of her internal dialouge fostering a relieved tone. “That was a long one. Sounded like she was getting strapped–”

Hyo surprises herself with her last thought. She suddenly straightens her back, shaking her head a bit.

“Stop–stop thinking about it.” She mentally scolds herself. Her cheeks are red, but under the dim lighting it’s impossible to see, and the wide, ashamed look in her eyes is hidden by her sunglasses. “That’s your boss and her future wife in there, it’s not–it’s not right.”

It isn’t.

But her wandering thoughts would be the least of Hyo’s worries, because while she counted to one thousand moments prior, a certain blonde Bebe girl had spotted her standing outside your and Bada’s shared bedroom, all the while your loud moans and slamming sounds filled the air.

“If I’d have known she was there I would have told her to keep quiet about it.” Hyo grumbles. “Now all the girls think I’m into that type of stuff–”

“Ouch!” The sound of your hurt whine cuts Hyo’s thoughts off.

She freezes in her spot, but out of pure instinct, and briefly forgetting what was going on beyond the doorway to Bada’s office, she reaches for the holster of her gun, and swings around to look inside the office.

And what she sees changes everything…

#bada lee x reader #bada lee x reader smut #bada x reader #bada lee #bada lee smut #bada #street woman fighter 2 x reader #swf2 x reader

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theurgists · 1 year ago

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⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ SKIN MEETS SKIN ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ smut, porn without plot ( literally ), riding ( woman-on-top ), p in v, unprotected sex, missionary, nipple play, not proof-read

a/n: i'm gonna sink into the little hole i dug for myself now. i need to cool down after this...

The uneven edges of his fingernails skimming over the bare skin of your thighs seemed like it could’ve been a fever dream. His chest decorated in small freckled-kisses expanded and contracted with such vigor, that he struggled to breathe as his jaw went slack; hot breath hitting the flushed spot of flesh between your chest as you hovered above him.

“I know you can take it, gevie.” Aemond cooed encouragingly, voice a few octaves above a whisper. It was raspy, just sultry enough that you had clenched around the length of his cocked sheathed within you, the pads of his finger ghosting over the goosebumps that formed. Beautiful.

Your tight grip on his smooth shoulder had tightened, fingers bending in a way that they became sore, nails digging into the skin there, creating indents shaped like crescent moons to linger as a temporary reminder. The action sent a shiver that reverberated down his spine so quickly, it was almost harsh how fast the feeling had come.

A lazy smile came to rest on his thin lips as you slowly sank yourself onto him once more, a loud whine making its way past you as the slight burn added more pain to the immense pleasure you were already feeling, a desperate ache that you craved to soothe.

“Aemond, please.”

It came as a sob between clenched teeth as you ground your hips, warm hands burning his shoulders as you sat on his thighs, bare chest flush against yours, a certain heat you couldn’t help but sink deeper into as he removed his calloused hands from your thighs to place at your hips, squeezing the fat there.

Oh, how he loved the way you whined, begging for him in a tone of voice that no one else but him gets the pleasure of hearing as he pleased you. It was addictive — his touch. The way his eyes would widen at the lewd sounds that left your throat was an experience unlike no other, especially in a time like this where it sent a small twinge of satisfaction to run throughout his thrumming heart.

Aemond’s hands forcefully moved your hips, neck craned to watch the expressions on your face morph as he hit those desired spots within you. “Please what, my love? Use your words or I won’t know what you want.”

There it was — the wet heat of his mouth against one of your hard nipples, sucking as if his life depended on it, cheeks hallowed, tongue lapping at the stiff peak. “Oh, fuck, harder please, please…” You trailed off, words fading into a low sob as he bucked his hips upward, causing your jaw to go slack, breath leaving your lungs quickly at the sudden action.

From there, you could see his eye darken through your dark, long lashes, his slender fingers gripping the sides of your hips even tighter, and you were positive that in the mornings to come, the red, blotchy skin from his roughness would blossom into hues of dark blues and purples.

Aemond continued to suck, swirling his tongue in every direction he could think of, earning the reward of hearing the different sounds you’d make depending on where his tongue would wander; where his teeth would indent, and where he’d mark you for everyone to see.

It was embarrassing how needy you were for him despite your arguments stating otherwise. The one-eyed prince enjoyed this.

It pleased him so, seeing you a mess above, bouncing up and down on his cock as the heavenly sounds of your warm, buttery skin slapped against his. It proved that you were his to take, for him to fuck until his arms grew sore from tossing you around and using you just like you begged him to.

Aemond fucking loved it — he fucking loved you.

“Look at you.” He praised, letting the back of his head rest against the coolness of the wooden bedframe as it knocked against the thin foundation of the walls, chipping with each hard thrust he delivered into your cunt. “You’re taking me like a good little whore, aren’t you princess?”

Your response wasn’t a verbal one — no — it had his toes curling, muscles flexing as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your chest flush against his once more, keeping you in place as he pounded into you relentlessly, a primal urge taking over every cell in his body.

“Right there, right there.” It was all you were able to get out as he flipped you over on your back, the coolness of the sheets eliciting a breathy sigh and the sudden motion sending your head spinning. Even then, Aemond never unsheathed himself from within you, his biceps had appeared in the peripheral vision, the veins of his arms visible as he held himself over your frame.

His hips began their movement once more, faster this time as your breasts bounced up and down, something that had caused Aemond to groan almost animalistically. The sound was muffled by his closed mouth, the apples of his cheeks puffing, a small ache that sent his teeth grinding against each other soon after.

“You’re doing so good.”

The flesh of his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, wandering down under your jaw until they rested above your pulse point; tongue touching, sucking, anything — until blood cells had surfaced beneath the skin, a splotch of irritated skin in its wake.

You had gasped in between thrusts, hands on either side of you, gripping the cotton of the sheets as the knot in your stomach had formed. He was rubbing against your walls, eager to reach that spot in you that had rendered you breathless countless times during past intimate moments. In haste, you had circled your right hand around his wrist, tugging it away from its position on your waist and onto your aching pussy, your clit puffed from lack of care. “Here, Aemond, fucking do something, anything. Want your hands on me.”

Your begging was pathetic, at least, to you as blood had rushed to the surface of your cheeks, hips bucking into his for what seemed like the thousandth time.

In the fluorescent lighting of the room, he could see how your wetness glistened on the base of his cock whenever he’d pull out of you, only to ram right back in. It was a process he thoroughly enjoyed, even more so when the pads of his calloused fingers had found their way past your slick folds, thumb pressing down to rub on your clit.

Your hips had involuntarily bucked into his clammy palm, chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm at the quickness of his digits combined with his cock pounding you into the creaking springs of the mattress.

Licking the flesh of his lips, Aemond lowered his head, the tip of his nose pressing against yours for only a second before he connected his lips to yours, tongue swiping across your bottom flesh, darting inside of your mouth, twirling with yours once they met in the middle.

You had him right where you wanted him, and it'd take all the force of The Seven to drag him away.

#aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #hotd x reader #aemond drabble

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star-suh · 1 year ago

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Three Boys.

Lee Sangyeon & Lee Juyeon x Male Reader.

cw: tops sangyeon and juyeon, pwp, cock kiss, rimjob, blowjob, deepthroat, spit roasting, spitplay, some sangyeon x juyeon moments, they're pornstars.

—

y/n was one of the most prominent stars in recent months in the porn industry so it was not surprising that he received messages asking for collaborations. of the many that he had, one caught his attention “lee fucking sangyeon and lee fucking juyeon want to make a collab with me? i feel like i'm gonna faint” putting one hand on his forehead acting as if he was indeed going to faint.

the day has come and here they are, the three boys installing all the cameras quickly so they can dive right into the sex part of the video.

juyeon and y/n started kissing while stroking each other's cock and sangyeon went straight to y/n's ass burying himself on it while groping his ass.

gushy sounds were coming from y/n's hole, the constant spits of sangyeon and his wet tongue were leaving his ass dilated “probably the best cake i've ever ate” joked sangyeon with a string of saliva connecting his chin to the other male's hole.

juyeon tongue was exploring the inside os y/n's mouth, spitting on it and then sucking his tongue while using his hands to spread the ass cheeks of the bottom so sangyeon can fuck the bottom's deeper with his wet muscle.

sangyeon stood up and guide y/n's mouth to his cock, he started licking the tip going down to his balls and smell them “love the smell” praised y/n swallowing the cock all at once. the sudden deepthroat caught sangyeon off guard making him moan and his body started spasming due to the immense pleasure “damn what a skilled cocksucker”. juyeon joined seconds later helping y/n to suck the other's cock.

their tongues were going up and down taking turns to suck the tip and lick the pre-cum. then their mouths clashed in a kiss, with sangyeon's dick in the middle, the sight making the older male's cock throb.

sangyeon sat in a sofa with y/n straddling him getting ready to take his cock, he sat on it slowly enjoying the stretching sensation. then he moved his hips and started riding it, squeezing it everytime he goes down. meanwhile juyeon mouthfucked y/n, locking his strong hands around the other's head forcing him to deepthroat his cock for 10 seconds.

“6. 7. that's right, just a little more.. 8. 9. 10. here you go” juyeon free the male's head watching how many strands of thick saliva connected his soaked shaft to y/n's lustful mouth.

now it's juyeon's time to fuck that sweet hole “it's already so stretched so i guess that i can put it all in at once” and as he said he slammed himself onto y/n pushing him against the sofa drawing a growl out of him “you fucking … bastard” cried y/n in pleasure, enjoying juyeon's thrusts.

sangyeon didn't want to stay doing anything so he decided to eat juyeon's ass first, his tongue licking that tight ring of muscles. when he finished doing that, he now focused on licking and spitting on juyeon's cock every time he entered y/n's hole. juyeon took out his entire cock for sangyeon to suck and then inserted it back into y/n, repeating the action many more times.

with y/n now straddling and riding juyeon, sangyeon rubbed his cock between the bottom's ass cheeks. juyeon then pulls out and sangyeon enters. they started taking turns in fucking that lustful ass.

y/n positioned himself in a doggy position so they can fuck his two holes, juyeon in the mouth and sangyeon in the ass. both tops locked hands and kissed each other while slamming themselves into y/n. the bottom was feeling so much pleasure that his eyes rolled back and he started to stroke his dick to cum.

“he's squeezing me so hard with his throat” growled juyeon. “same here” said sangyeon “i think he's going to cum” and as soon as sangyeon said that y/n came, staining the couch with his cum. juyeon kept fucking that tight throat until that he floods him with his cum “that's right dude, drink all my milk” tears staining y/n's cheek while he struggle swallowing the thick cum with the dick still throbbing inside his mouth.

on the other side sangyeon stroke himself shooting his seed straight on y/n's gaping hole as if it were a target shooting game “now let me churn it” he said introducing his dick again thrusting a couple of times.

Y/n kneels and takes both cocks with her hands, trying to suck both at the same time and put them inside her mouth. Despite his attempts, he can't because of how thick they are, so he dedicated himself to leaving them clean of semen..

“thanks for today guys it was amazing” a shy y/n waved a goodbye to the pair of dudes in front of him. “we also loved spending time with you, give us a call if you want to hang out and record another collab” sangyeon winked.”bye” waved juyeon blowing a kiss towards y/n… “they're so hot” sighs y/n, being whipped for those two men who seem sculpted by the gods themselves.

#lee juyeon x male reader #juyeon x male reader #sangyeon x male reader #lee sangyeon x male reader #juyeon x male reader smut #lee juyeon x male reader smut #juyeon smut #lee sangyeon x male reader smut #sangyeon x male reader smut #sangyeon smut #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut

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lavenderchqn · 8 months ago

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synopsis — they get jealous parings — bf! xiao, wanderer, lyney x reader (seperate) warnings — it's written in 2nd person (and although it's been proofread... my english is not englishing all that well); you and xiao get into a minor argument (it gets resolved!); scara is his boastful self and pays a price for that; lyney's just sad I'm sorry :( requested? — requested by @ceneid notes — thank you so much for the request! hopefully it's to your taste, considering I've made it more sad if anything and it's a written piece with some texts messages included!!

XIAO

Any occasion to meet with friends is a worthwhile, so when Hu Tao invited both you and Xiao to her upcoming birthday party, you quickly agreed to come — of course, with the ‘pass’ from your partner.

He wouldn’t consider your friends to be the most enjoyable in the ‘company’ department, mostly because he considered them too loud for his liking. However, despite such displeasure, Xiao could still certainly say that your enjoyment was worthy of a few hours of his torture..

Unfortunately, not everything can go as we would like every time and that would be the situation the raven-haired man has found himself in.

The moment the two of you stepped into Hu Tao’s apartment you were whisked away by some of your friends, leaving Xiao to fend for himself… Although he could see a smidge of displeasure across your face the moment one of the girls - Xiangling if his memory didn’t betray him - grabbed your arm.

And well, that’s the situation he was stuck in for a while… Feeling like an accessory to your person, all while your friends have been chatting about how life was treating them. Being overstimulated was an understatement to of how he felt at the moment.

Leaving the living room to get a breather only furthered him in the thoughts of feeling ignored… and perhaps a little bit jealous? Well, it’s not like he could voice his concerns with how you’ve been behaving throughout the evening.

Your phone vibrating multiple times in the past minute has piqued your curiosity, prompting you to open it to check the messages… Only to leave you in utter shock.

Not only have you realised that the time was more than what you expected… But your partner was about to leave to head home all without you. Guilt was most certainly creeping down your back.

You replied to him as quickly as you could, hoping that he would stay true to his word of staying for a second longer.

— Hu Tao, we’re gonna head home now. - You tapped her shoulder, informing her that you and Xiao would be leaving in a moment. - Once again, happy birthday.

Grabbing your purse, you’ve made your way to the hall of the house, eyes meeting with the displeased look of your partner’s and the silent treatment already making its debut as you were leaving the building.

The car ride was borderline horrific - the tension between the two of you thick enough to cut with a knife… And albeit confused with Xiao’s behaviour, you needed to start the conversation in order to hopefully resolve the conflict between you.

— Can we talk about it? - You asked shyly, turning your head to search for some signs of willingness on his face.

— Not that much to talk about. - Xiao sighed, not taking his eyes off the road. - I’m simply upset your friends can hog your attention for so many hours.

Your eyes widened at the thought of his obvious statement of jealousy… And the next second, turned into immense guilt. You of all people should be aware of how he reacts in settings like those, and yet you kind of brushed that off.

— I’m sorry. - You stated, hearable sincerity in your voice. - I should’ve kept your feelings in mind, and yet I didn’t.

Xiao… Was most certainly not expecting that. He could imagine multiple scenarios, in which you attack him for being jealous and possessive, and yet here you were - taking accountability for a minor mistake you’ve made.

— I understand you wanted to enjoy some? time with your friends. - He stated. - Next time I won’t go. I don’t want to sour the mood. Spending time with your friends to the fullest is important, is it not?

Apologies have been exchanged between the two of you, topped with a night of eating fried tofu snacks and watching silly horror movies.

After all, friend time and Xiao time don’t have to land at the same time, do they?

WANDERER

If you could use only two words to describe your partner - “prideful” and “boastful” are the first ones that come to mind. At this point you’re pretty sure, you’ve heard the story of Haypasia at least twenty times…

To Wanderer, your jealousy makes him thrive. As messed up as it sounds, to him it’s proof that you’re with him for real… That you won’t betray him, given the chance. On the other hand, you don’t appreciate that specific behaviour of his too much — One or two times might’ve been silly but the more he tends to engage in said actions, the more it makes you feel insecure.

His persistence is exactly what resulted in… let’s say a tad of joking.

You’ve known Tartaglia for many months now. Introduced to you by your partner, the only interactions the two of you shared have been online. According to Wanderer, it’s due to Ajax’s constant traveling…

And yet the ginger says it’s due to other reasons.

— [y/n], trust me. - He says cheerfully via voice chat during one of your gaming sessions. - That will absolutely make him fuming with jealousy! Hell, I’d be lucky to make it out alive after pulling that. -

You’ve found out that Tartaglia will just so happen to be flying to your city soon. Throughout the last few weeks, the two of you schemed a little plan to show your loving partner EXACTLY what jealousy is like In the end, you trusted the male to take reign over the performance that would happen in due time.

Sure — you felt a bit bad doing something that in your eyes seemed “malicious”, but with Wanderer’s persistent attempts and encouragement… Surely you needed your boyfriend to have a taste of his own medicine.

And said time was about to come.

You’ve agreed to pick up Ajax from the airport, excitedly speaking of this being your first meeting in person. While you’ve sent each other pictures, albeit in your case it was Wandy sending a couple of photos of the two of you, this would be much, much different in comparison.

— I still don’t understand what prompted you to pick up that ginger from the airport. - The raven-haired man scoffed, looking at the arrivals signs. Him and his silly ways of showing affection…

— Well, I know that said ginger is quite an important person in your life. - You smiled, partially since you knew you were saying the truth as well as the chaos that was about to happen between the two of you.

Wanderer was almost about to say something, getting when he got cut off by the noise of someone running, getting increasingly louder and culminating in him getting tackled into a hug.

— It’s so good to see you guys! - Tartaglia said, after leaving your boyfriend alone for a second before turning to you. - It’s so lovely to finally meet you in person, [y/n]… Pictures don’t do your beauty justice. - A kiss on your hand.

To say you were flabbergasted would be an understatement. Sure, you agreed on him doing mild flirting… BUT THIS? And you were not the only one standing in utter shock.

— What the fuck was that Childe? - Your partner asked, seeing red at the events unraveling right before his eyes.

— Common courtesy. - Tartaglia winked. - In my culture, it’s quite normal to kiss a lady on the hand when you greet her.

Oh, the coyness in his voice spoke everything. He enjoyed every single second of the jealousy Wanderer was feeling. And to say that this interaction would be the last of your plan was a huge understatement.

Your phone has been pinging ever so often, with messages coming in from different social media — all from your boyfriend obviously. Tartaglia ordered a lovely dinner on his tab as ‘thanks’ for picking him up from the airport. This was also a way of the ginger giving you space, which posed as an opportunity to check what Wanderer was up to.

LYNEY

Lyney feels as if he’s going to suffocate in the next few minutes. It’s not that he’s unhappy to be here. Frankly, he’s here to support you as a loving partner. It’s just that… The atmosphere here is rough. The situation at hand is reminding him is reminding him of all the times he has attended those funding meetings with his Father.

He proceeds to take a deep breath. “Anything for [y/n]” - Lyney whispers to himself.

Speaking of yourself, here you are trying not to pass out from the stress you feel. You’re mere minutes away from giving a presentation on your project, which if received positively, will land you a promotion with a generous pay raise.

The possibility of this success comes with its price — the need to “suck” up to some of the more liked employees in hopes of getting their approval for your ideas.

This is precisely how you’ve ended up in this situation… away from Lyney because archons only know why. One moment you were introducing him as your partner to many of your work besties, and the next you’re in the middle of a conversation with the manager of another branch… Who - you would say - has a horrific sense of humour.

— And I tell her “Can’t say I sleep like a log! After all, I don’t wake up in a fireplace”! - You force yourself to smile, fully cringing inside at the dad joke you’ve just heard. Hell, this guy isn’t even a dad… nor is he over thirty years old to be making jokes like these!

— I see, I see. - You reply politely, fully intending not to show your hidden feelings at what you just have witnessed. Your eyes, however, wander to try and find Lyney amongst all these business-oriented people. And indeed you manage to locate him.

Unfortunately for you — there’s clear evidence that your partner is not feeling his best… And since you’re the reason he even showed up to this setting, you feel like you need to check up on him. Therefore, you proceed to message him.

From the messages it seems like your lovely partner is doing much better than before… However there’s this inkling in your brain that he might still feel jealous about this situation.

— Thank you for the conversation. - You manage to finally get a word in with the manager who has been talking nonstop. - Unfortunately, I’m here with someone… and I feel bad leaving them unattended. I shall be taking my leave now. -

With those words said, you proceeded to get to Lyney, finally getting a break from acting as a suck-up throughout the entire evening

— Hi lovely. - You say, catching your partner’s hand in yours. - I’m so sorry about leaving you all alone. -

The guilt inside you can be felt both in your manner of speech, as well as in the grip you have on his hand. Lyney must be able to sense this, as he’s bringing your hand up for a loving kiss.

— Pay that no mind. You’re absolutely forgiven, Muse. - He whispers, not wanting to bring more attention to you than necessary. - Besides, I’m sure you’ll repay me with all the kisses in the world once we get home.

It always turns out like this. A situation where you were supposed to be the one comforting your partner, turns its tables into him uplifting you with poetic words. The result of it being you - feeling the most courageous you have been throughout this entire business meeting.

In the end, your presentation goes more than well. You’ve knocked each point out of the park and even answered all the questions with merit!

— I knew you would do amazing, bubs! - Lyney gives you a kiss on the cheek the moment you leave the venue where your presentation took place. - As expected of the magnificent Muse of the magnificent Lyney.

He’s singing you — and himself by proxy, because he has to be stunning if his partner is that good — praises the entire road home, which makes you wonder… How in the world a singular person can go through so many behaviour patterns in the span of a singular night?

date of posting - may 22nd 2024

#lavv.writes #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #xiao x reader #lyney x reader

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