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saetoru · 1 year ago

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AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day two — overstimulation ; find masterlist here

synopsis. befriending nanako and mimiko has its perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but that doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

length. 5.3k words (bro this fic was agonizing)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, dilf! suguru, college au (reader is a student), age gaps (20+ difference), jealous suguru, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, angel)

notes. this took me so long bc i hate it so im posting it and running away to play genshin to slave away for primos

most people can tell their best friends everything. not you, though—you have a secret. a dirty, shameful, horrible little secret, in fact.

no one knows that every chance you get, every small little moment you can possibly squeeze in, you fuck your two best friends’ father—and it’s going to stay that way, unknown and forever hidden. suguru is young as far as parents go, just barely in his twenties when he’s found himself a single father of two, but that doesn’t mean he’s not too old for you. and it especially doesn’t mean that it’s not inappropriate to fuck the man that raised your two closest friends.

you meet nanako and mimiko during your freshman year of college—the rest is history. the first time you spend the night at their place, suguru (he insists you call him that on your first meeting) is overjoyed that his girls have someone as lovely as you.

who wouldn’t be? you’re smart, well-mannered, respectable, and incredibly studious. what a perfect role model for his girls—after all, every father’s worst nightmare is his sweet, precious daughters venturing off to the real world. men are dogs—suguru should know. they’re sleazy and prey on young women who are naive and unsuspecting, taking advantage of their hopefulness before completely destroying their innocence. suguru can’t bear the idea of his perfect little girls becoming victims of such sinister behavior—but that’s all quelled when he meets you.

but he never thought, not even for one second, that he’d become one of those men.

those older men who fuck girls half their age—the girls that are barely in their twenties and still don’t even really understand how taxes work. the girls that have just started to learn how to hold their alcohol and can only recently buy it legally. the girls who don’t realize how complicated adulthood can be, just barely spreading their wings and learning what it’s like to be free.

suguru has always found those men deplorable. they’re the awful, disgusting, untamed vermin of society—women must be protected from them at all costs.

but now? well….now he’s one of them—and he finds, even as disgusted with himself as he is from time to time, he has little regrets.

not when you’re sprawled under him, hands tracing over his bare chest, feeling the soft skin under your palms in wonder. suguru, though he’s not let himself go by any means, is past his prime—he still frequents the gym, and he has more time to go now that the girls are gone most of the day, but he’s not immune to the effects of aging.

his hair has more than a few strands of white sprinkled in now; nanako makes sure to remind him not to pull them out unless he wants more. he’s still managed to keep the abs he was once so proud of in his youth, but they’re still not as hard—layered over a slight belly that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he tries. his skin is a bit looser, and his eyes have slight wrinkles in the corners of them, but despite it all, suguru still looks as handsome as ever.

he’s aged well, still looks remarkably young for men his age, and still looks like that dashing young man he once was who stole hearts. in fact, he still hears about his looks, especially from nanako and mimiko’s friends—he’s always chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement.

that’s your dad? god, he’s so hot.

what? he’s single? oh my gosh, do you need a mom?

i can’t believe he’s never been married—women in his generation don’t deserve him. i’ll take him off their hands.

wait, do you have pictures of him when he was younger?

oh my god, he’s so fine. are you sure he’s in his forties?

nanako and mimiko, bless their hearts, have always crinkled their noses at the…less than proper comments they’ve had to witness about their father. in fact, they’ve watched teachers practically throw themselves onto suguru at parent-teacher conferences. it’s bothersome—a little disturbing to hear their friends talk about all the things they’d let their dad, of all people, do to them.

but you? you don’t make unhinged comments. they appreciate that.

but if only they knew…

if only they knew that sometimes, like right now, when you’re spending the night, you don’t actually sleep—instead, you sneak off to their father’s room, lay on his mattress under his body, and feel his touch. you can feel him, hard and throbbing in his sweats as his clothed cock presses against your thigh—but he takes his time with you, and doesn’t do anything about the clear arousal pooling between your legs just yet.

instead, he focuses on remembering your body—it’s been a while, after all. he hasn’t felt your hips, hasn’t tasted your skin, hasn’t heard your voice.

“missed you,” suguru breathes, hovering over you as you hum, nipping at your skin as his nose brushes along your neck. your hand is playing with his hair, twisting long, black and white strands along your fingers. “haven’t seen you in a bit, angel.”

“i’ve had midterms,” you murmur.

suguru knows—nanako and mimiko have been studying for them themselves. he’s more than a little disappointed that you haven’t come over to study with them yet. but then, just the other night, mimiko mentions you’ve been spending your time with a boy at the library, sharing a table as you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop. nanako giggles that you might have finally gotten yourself a boyfriend. mimiko hums and nods as she murmurs it’s about time.

suguru swallows down every bite of dinner with an aftertaste of bile that night.

a boy—a boy? you’ve been skipping coming over to study with the girls (and, by default, seeing him) just to study with some boy? what’s got your attention on the guy so badly? why would you break the routine you’ve had for the last few semesters for someone you just recently met? have you finally started to realize that this is a mistake? is suguru a mistake?

he thinks maybe not, now that you’re back in his bed—but he still has too many unanswered questions.

“so i’ve heard,” he says lowly, “i’ve also heard there’s a certain boy on your radar.” he smiles bitterly, pulling away from your neck to stare at you with those dark, sharp eyes of his. “a much younger, and fitting match for you, i suppose.”

you roll your eyes, snorting.

“is that what nanako and mimiko have told you? honestly, those two,” you huff fondly, “i told them already. he’s just my partner for a presentation. we’re practicing.”

“oh?” suguru raises a brow—and then he shivers lightly when you lean up and kiss his jaw, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“yes,” you giggle, “no need to be jealous of someone half your age, you know.”

“that’s exactly why i’m jealous,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you softly.

your lips taste like honey—probably sweeter, in fact. they drip with that decadent, saccharine taste of youth. he feels twenty again every time he kisses you, feels not a day older than his glory days.

“oh, you poor thing,” you grin, cupping his face as you scatter kisses along his cheeks and nose, thumb tracing the skin. fuck, is this what it feels like to be in love? it makes him feel so young, so free, and hopeful for the future. when was the last time he felt this way? “have you been losing sleep over my nonexistent college boyfriend?”

“well, kids your age fool around quite a bit,” he says in that father tone that he uses on nanako and mimiko, “what was i supposed to think?”

you’ve heard that tone so many times before; the one where he talks like he knows better, like he’s wiser, like he’s aware of something you’re not.

girls, make sure you share your location with me—i need to find you in case anything happens. it’s for your own safety, end of discussion.

make sure you watch over your drinks, okay? men these days take every chance they get to spike them when you’re not looking. mimiko, i was your age once, too. i’ve seen this happen plenty.

don’t walk alone in the streets at night. call me. i’ll pick you up—no, nanako, it’s not lame. the streets are dangerous at night. there are creeps, you know.

don’t get into any boy’s cars, girls. you never know what’ll happen; one mistake is all it takes to ruin your life—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. one day, you’ll understand i’m right.

“i’m not a kid,” you pout, and then, smugly this time, you wiggle your brows. “did’ya lose sleep over my imaginary boyfriend? you need plenty of sleep at your age, y’know.”

“no, you’re not a kid,” suguru agrees, “you’re a brat.” and then he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed, hungry kisses along your jaw, humming in delight when you angle your head to give him better access.

sometimes, it’s fun to get under suguru’s skin—it’s fun to break that carefully built, mature patience of his, pulling a twitch of his eye and a furrow of his brow from him. so, you grin widely as you murmur, “who knows? maybe he’d fuck better—more stamina, y’know?”

it’s supposed to just tease him, to make him glare at you unimpressed so you can giggle and kiss between his brows—but suguru stills at that, painfully stiff for a moment before he bites at your skin. hard.

“oh yeah?” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls away to glare down at you, “you think so? what, you think an old man like me can’t fuck you long enough?”

you don’t get a chance to reply—not before he pulls your pants down your waist to reveal your soaked panties, pulling a hum from him as he grins at the damp patch of fabric. his fingers circle over your clit for a moment, right over the cloth, making your breath hitch as you buck into his touch.

“suguru—”

“look at that,” he chuckles, “wearing my favorite one, huh? can’t fuck you that bad if you try your best to impress me. isn’t that what you wanted? is that what you were thinking when you put these on before coming over? how precious,” he murmurs—he speaks so condescending, so knowingly, as if he’s read your mind just by looking at the red lace covering your dripping cunt. you cover your face in humiliation, but he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head, clicking his teeth in disapproval.

part of you knows you should quit while you can—the other part? well…it wants to test the limits a bit longer. suguru has never been so easy to rile up, you want to indulge in it for just a bit longer if you can help it.

“well,” you huff, “what’re you waiting for, then? don’t tell me the age has slowed you down—”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says in a low snarl, “fine, you want me to hurry up? you got it, princess.”

it all happens before you can even register—one moment, you’re grinning at him with mischief in your eyes; the next second, he has you in nothing but your bra, bare in his bed as he pulls your legs apart and leans close to your pussy.

“you know the thing about guys your age,” he hums, toying with your clit lazily as you gasp with a twitch, “is that they really don’t know how to take care of anyone but themselves. guess they just don’t have enough experience to really figure it out.”

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking before he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud as his fingers sink into your core, pushing past your folds and stretching you open. it’s slow—deliberately so, in fact. it makes your head spin, and your fingers curl into the bed sheets as you pant.

“suguru, m-more—”

“don’t worry,” he coos, pulling away from you to grin up at your glossy eyes, “you’ll get plenty, baby. we’ll see if you’ve got the stamina. y’know, since you’re so young.”

his lips are back to wrap around your clit, fingers sinking and curling exactly where you’re most sensitive—suguru finds your sweet spots instantly the first time he has you sprawled under him. didn’t even take a moment of trial, just knew where to touch and kiss to have you unravel in his hold. that much still hasn’t changed—his fingertips press against the sensitive spot in the back of your walls, pulling pretty little whines from you as his tongue flicks over your clit.

it’s always been a blessing that nanako and mimiko’s room is across the house—had they been closer, they might hear the mewl you let out as his fingers bully into you faster, unforgiving as they brush against your walls and build the ache up between your legs until it’s about to burst.

“s-suguru, ‘m close, so, so close—”

“already?” he gasps, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your clit with a sly grin, “thought you had more in you than that, baby. so youthful—figured you’d last a bit longer.”

he’s mean about it—rubs it in your face some more that you’re so close so fast before he pulls his fingers away and doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of falling apart on his digits. it makes you sob, hips bucking up to chase the friction of his fingers, but he’s already gone, leaving your walls empty and fluttering around nothing.

“no,” your voice breaks, “n-no, so close, please. i want—”

“that’s what he would’ve done,” suguru hums, “pulled out before you even finished. that’s what guys your age always do—they don’t know how to make girls finish. you ever had that problem with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. you’re a pretty little thing, he thinks—pouty, wobbly lips and those glossy eyes as you sniffle. “no, you always make me cum—please, i wanna cum, sugu.”

“yeah?” he pouts with faux sympathy, “didn’t feel good, huh? feels better when i take care of you, doesn’t it?”

“uh huh,” you nod—you’re still panting through the aftershocks of having your orgasm ripped from you, chest rising and falling harsh enough that it fills him with pride he can pull such drastic reactions from you. no one knows your body like suguru—he’s too good at giving it what it wants for anyone else to compare.

“think that boy—” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue, “—can take care of you?”

“no,” you whimper, “no, he can’t. not like you, never like you.”

“that’s a good girl,” he nods approvingly, rubbing his slick-coated finger over your clit, toying with it teasingly as you writhe, whining for more. “you know something else about men your age? they don’t care to please a woman—don’t bother to appreciate them enough to make them feel good. you think that boy would be here—” he pauses to motion between your legs, where he’s currently situated, “—willingly? taste you willingly? let you cum on his tongue willingly?”

“i-i don’t…i never asked someone to—”

“did you ever ask me?” he interrupts, raising a brow at you, “you ever have to ask me? i just do it. wanna know why? because i know what i’m doing—know how to treat you right, how to give you what you need. isn’t that right?”

“yes, yes—you always give me what i want—”

“what you need,” he corrects, “and you know what i think you need right now? this.”

his tongue licks a stripe along your entrances before you can say anything else, pulling a gasp out of you as your hands find his hair and tug—suguru groans at that, feels his pants get impossibly tighter as the aching erection he sports throbs between his legs at the way you pull at the strands so desperately, so needy. for him. only ever him.

his tongue fucks into you, messy with the way he devours you, the slick arousal pooling from your cunt coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin. you moan—and really, it’s almost a squeal—when his fingers are sinking back into you, tongue flicking away at your clit mercilessly as he thrusts his digits in and out of your pussy. you’re close, painfully so, the pressure steadily building and building until you just can’t hold it back anymore.

“sugu—’m c-cumming. god ‘s so good—feels good,” you babble, thighs closing around his head as his fingers curl into your sweet spot over and over again, not stopping for even a second as he helps you ride out your high. your walls spasm around his fingers, tight as they flutter around him and make him groan at the thought of being inside you.

he watches, hungry and in awe, as your back arches off the mattress and your mouth parts, broken little wails of his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet melody.

“i bet he’s never seen someone look like this,” suguru murmurs, watching the way the ecstasy takes over your features as your face falls slack from pleasure, “so pretty when falling apart. bet he’d never even get close to making you look so fucked from just his tongue.”

your orgasm ripples through you—it’s not new, the way he makes you feel so good, but it’s definitely nothing to get used to either. your body slumps back onto the mattress as you finish, panting harshly while he climbs up to hover over you once again.

“that felt good?” he asks, nosing at your cheek as you nod breathlessly.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“hope you’re not tired out just yet,” he says smugly, eyeing the way sweat clings to your forehead and huffs of air exhale from your lungs with each labored breath, “because we’re nowhere near done, baby. not even close.”

just like that, your bra is unclasped and pulled off, freeing your tits for his mouth to latch onto a nipple, sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along the bud while his fingers tease at the other, pinching and rubbing over it with his thumb. you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hand cups the back of his head and keeps him in place.

“bet i could make you cum just from this,” he says with a laugh, “i don’t even need to fuck you.”

“please,” you dig your nails into his shoulder, moaning as he switches to wrap his lips around the other nipple, “please, sugu—n-need more.”

“be more specific,” he says lowly, looking up at you in amusement, “gonna need more than that, princess. you gotta help me out here—i’m afraid i don’t know what i’m doing.”

suguru is doing everything he can to drag this out—if you’d known one small comment would have him riled up like this…well, truthfully, you can’t say you wouldn’t have made it anyway. it’s exciting in its own right when he’s so determined to show you why you need him, why no one else but him is meant to see you like this, make you fall apart like this, have you sprawled under them like this.

no one can know about you and suguru—not nanako and mimiko, not your other friends, not your family. you know what they’d say, how they’d feel.

disgust��shame, even. he’s far too old for you, you know they’d say; he’s a red flag for getting with someone so young. no one can know that you come here, dead in the middle of the night when your friends are asleep, and fuck their father. not only that—lay with their father, talk about your hopes and dreams for the future with their father, giggle as you gossip with their father, fall in love with their father.

something tells you the feeling is not unreciprocated—that suguru feels the same, that he loves holding you in his arms just as much as you love laying in them. maybe it wasn’t a joke, what you’d said. not to him, at least—maybe deep down, it stung; maybe he had something to prove. that boy might be closer to you in age, but he’ll never, ever treat you the way suguru does—no one will, for that matter. perhaps he has to show it so you really know.

so you look him in the eye, pull him closer until his forehead is pressed against yours and you can press a delicate kiss to his lips before you murmur against them, “fuck me, suguru. please—need you.”

he groans at that, closes his eyes before his hips move to press the thick tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it along your entrance as he coats his head with your slick. it’s flushed a deep pink—it’s been neglected for so long that he shudders at the way it aches, at the way even the slightest friction along the sensitive tip pulls a soft gasp from him.

for a moment, he wonders if he really will last long enough to fuck you properly—he might not, with the way your walls always squeeze around him, always have him ready to fuck his load into you just as soon as he’s inside you. the thought alone almost makes his cock twitch—but suguru is a man of patience, so he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch, looking down and watching as his girth disappears inside you.

“look at that,” he coos, grinning wide as he looks back up at you, “took me so easily. ‘s cause when you do it right, it doesn’t take much, does it?”

“f-fuck—” your head presses back against the pillow, mouth hung open as you breathe heavily, trying to squirm and get even the slightest bit of friction from him as he stays painfully still. “move, suguru—please, c-can’t wait anymore. jus’ wanna feel you.”

“i know,” he chuckles, “patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

despite it all, suguru is not feeling very patient anymore—it’s been long enough. his hips roll slowly at first, a shallow thrust of his hips that makes you both moan lowly before he all but pulls out and slams back in, hard. you can feel the burning stretch of his girth practically splitting you open, every thick vein dragging along your cunt and every brush of his tip against the back of your walls. it’s loud—the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of his deep groans and your breathless whines, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as he fucks you into his mattress.

“god—fuck, suguru—th-there,” you mewl as he slams into you right where you need him.

you’ve lost count of how many times suguru has fucked you like you’re his. in his bed at night, in his shower in the mornings, on the couch when you drop by when the girls aren’t home, in his car that one time he drove you home when it rained, in your apartment that one time he dropped off your laptop because you forgot it. there’s one common denominator—the way he makes you feel, not just from the way his cock ruts into you, but from the way his fingers tangle with yours, from the way his mouth finds your jaw to kiss, from the way his forehead presses into your shoulder with warmth.

it’s exciting, maybe. at first, it’s scandalous and a little thrilling in its own right. by now, it’s something much more than that—you don’t think anyone could make you feel the way he does, fuck you like he does, even if they tried. even if they knew where to touch and where to kiss. even if they knew what you liked and what you didn’t.

they couldn’t be suguru—would never be suguru.

“there, huh?” he pants, moaning softly as he feels your walls flutter around him tightly, “i know. i know how to fuck this pussy—my pussy. you think some boy you hardly know would know? think he’d care to learn? think he’d even try?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head as your hips buck up to meet his sharp thrusts, “no. no one would make me feel this good. make me feel so good, sugu.”

“ngh—sh-shit,” he hisses at your words, cock almost swelling harder at the way you praise him, at the way your words are almost slurred with no real thought behind him. it’s a little pride-inducing, the way you’re still able to sing his praises without having to really think about it first. he can hear it, the way you’re lost in the drag of his cock, drunk in the haze of pleasure, unfocused on everything else besides the way he bullies his thick girth into your abused cunt.

it’s a mess, it’s filthy the way there’s a mix of pre cum and your slick at the base of his cock, along your inner thighs, coating your skin as the squelching sound of him nudging past your folds fills the room.

it’s good, the way he makes you feel—he can hear it in your voice as you wail his name.

“s-suguru—oh.”

“what, you gettin’ all fucked out on me? ‘m not even close yet, princess,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck as he sucks softly into your sweet spot. you throw your head back, rasping out a cry of his name again as his balls slap against your ass with a harsh roll of his hips.

and then his hand makes its way between your bodies, thumb attaching itself to your clit before rubbing punishing circles into the bundle of nerves—you sob at that, back arching up as your chest presses against his, nipples hard as they brush along his skin.

“s-sugu—close, ‘m gonna cum a-again—so close,” you pant brokenly, every sentence cut off with a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you.

you’re close—you can’t fight back the way the coil in your belly snaps as he teases your clit. it’s still sensitive from the last orgasm, every nerve still burning up from before as he gives you more, gives you too much, almost. you cum harder this time—your second high creeping up on you when you least expect it.

it makes your eyes roll back, makes your thighs quiver, and tears stream down your cheeks as you chant his name over and over. suguru, ‘s so good. suguru, ‘m cumming. suguru, ‘s all for you.

every sentence makes his cock drill into you faster, sloppier in rhythm, maybe, but faster. needier. bordering on desperate.

“f-fuck, baby,” he grunts, “squeezin’ me so tight—such a tight fuckin’ cunt. you think just anyone deserves this? think you can just walk around and let anyone fuck this? ‘s bullshit—ngh.”

you don’t answer—can’t answer, in fact. it’s all teary eyes and soft sniffles as you mewl with every thrust, voice breaking between every pretty little sound you make. he’s still fucking into you, still dragging his cock against those sensitive walls, still bumping against your clit with his navel, still nudging against your sweet spot with his thick, swollen tip. it’s almost too much—it is too much, making you writhe under his body as you try to form the words.

“‘s t-too much, sugu—c-can’t anymore,” you try, “can’t.”

“what?” he gasps, furrowing his brows in mock confusion, “you’re tappin’ out on me already? but ‘m not even done yet, sweetheart. haven’t even finished yet—don’t tell me you’re already spent. how will you keep up with your little boyfriend’s stamina if you can’t even take an old man like me?”

“c-can’t take anyone but you,” you sob, “jus’ you—only you. promise.”

“yeah? you swear?”

“uh huh. jus’ you, sugu—don’ want anyone else. won’t fuck me the same.”

“atta girl,” he coos, chuckling as he leans down to kiss your jaw, trailing soft pecks until he meets your lips, “that’s what i thought. make sure you don’t forget, okay?”

“fuck, suguru—’m…g-gonna…”

“gonna what? cum? you’re cumming again?” you nod at that—he grins wide, pride settling into the crinkles of his eyes before his thumb rubs harsh circles into your swollen clit once more. he looks pretty like that—hair framing his face, the mix of black and white strands sticking to the damp skin of his forehead. his skin is flushed, abs flexing as he pants over you. sometimes you feel guilty that half of why you come over to visit nanako and mimiko is to fuck suguru—the guilt is quickly extinguished when you see him like this, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his arms barely hold him over you, eyes shut tight as he groans.

“i-i’m—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can’t form sentences anymore as you cum—again. not that you really could before that, but now all you can offer is croaked half-syllables and shaky sobs. your walls squeeze around him, tight as they hug around his throbbing cock.

it takes one, two, three more sloppy rolls of his hips before he lets out at a low, “baby, fuck—’m gonna fill you up. want that? want me to cum in you? make you mine? always been mine, haven’t you?”

“yes, yes—yours, sugu. yours, yours, yours,” you babble, words slurred between breathy moans and broken sobs. “wanna be yours.”

you can feel him—feel the way his cock twitches in you, the way he grinds into you to ride out his high, the way sticky, hot ropes of cum fill your walls, the way he fucks his load deeper into you with every sloppy thrust of his hips. his arms quiver as he holds himself over you—just barely, though. you can hear the way his voice cracks as he gasps your name over and over, as he mutters lowly about how you’re his, how you’ll always only be his.

“mine,” he grits, “you’re fuckin’ mine—see how you’re suckin’ me in? see how i fit in this pussy like it was made for me? ‘s cause you’re mine.”

his body slumps onto yours as he finishes, head pressed into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin while you both catch your breaths. you whimper, still sensitive, as he pulls out of you, a soft chuckle falling past his lips as he pulls his head up to look at you and press a kiss to your cheek.

“so,” he starts, eyes laced with amusement as he takes in the fucked out look on your face, the tears still drying your cheeks, the swollen flush of your bottom lip, “still think you need someone with more stamina? someone who’ll fuck you better—”

“god,” you groan, slapping his shoulder, “will you drop it already? you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“no,” he murmurs, pecking your lips, “still wanna hear it some more.”

“your ego needs a reality check,” you huff as you brush a strand of hair from his forehead, “think i’ve fed it plenty all night.”

“actually, i think you crushed it,” he pouts theatrically, “talking about some asshole who doesn’t care about you right in front of me. after i take such good care of you, too. the girls already think you should date him,” he adds the last part with a slightly bitter roll of his eyes, pulling a giggle out of you.

“they think i don’t know how to talk to men,” you snort, “imagine they knew i was talking to men old enough to be my father.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, falling onto the mattress beside you—he pulls you into his chest, letting your cheek rest on his bare skin. it’s so wrong—lying in bed with the father of your best friends. but somehow, suguru feels like the only thing you’ve ever done right. “age is nothing but a number, sweetheart.”

if i have to see the word cock one more time im going to eradicate all humans that have them

do not comment about a part 2 !!!!!!!!!!

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sinstear · 3 months ago

Note

playing with vi’s sensitive boobs🤤

and what if i say this made me rip my shirt off? hope you don’t mind the fluff sprinkled in.

your shared bedroom smells of a mix between a vanilla candle and your sweet fruity perfume with vi comfortably lying between your legs and back resting against your chest, happily. “you’re quiet,” vi murmured, enjoying the feeling of your lips against her temple, and waiting to feel that small little beat to know she’s here and you’re not just dreaming of her.

“just thinking,” you answered, fingers lightly tracing patterns on her stomach. sometimes writing i love you on the hard muscles of her abs, or just drawing a heart.

“about?”

“you,”

“me?”

you don’t answer verbally, more so the kiss you plant just below her ear gives her the answer she was looking for, or didn’t know she wanted and leans into your touch and hums softly.

“well, i think about you too.” she finally spoke up, enjoying the comfortable silence. the feeling of your hand on her stomach, and lips on her skin had her flushed and hot. violet loved you being close and always having your hands on her.

“that’s good to know,” you smiled and left another kiss on her neck. “i love thinking about you. makes my day better, always.”

vi barely has time to respond to your words, what she wanted to say was ready on the tip of her tongue but when your hand grazes her nipple over her shirt, an action so light and innocent, you hear it, the sharp intake of her breath and the way she twitches against you. “vi?” you chuckled against her ear.

“shut up,” she huffed, but there was no true malice or annoyance behind her words and relaxed more on your chest as you pushed your hand up her shirt and quickly cupped one of her tits. “shit,” vi jolted, cold fingers grazed her nipple again. “baby,”

“relax,” you kissed her shoulder and squeezed her breast lightly. “let me look after you.”

nodding wordlessly against your head, vi pathetically pushes her shirt up, and closes to ignore the laugh you let out at her eagerness and simply rolled her now pebbled nipple between your fingertips. “so sensitive,” you murmured into her ear, catching the lobe between your teeth. “such pretty tits, hm?”

violet whines, reaches her own hand up and places it over yours. “they’re okay,” she said, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip and trying to hide her face in your neck.

“okay? baby, your tits are so fuckin’ perfect,” you pinched her nipple harder and hummed at her high pitched whimper. “yeah, so perfect.”

“baby,” her face flushed and breathing heavier had you smirking into the side of her cheek. the tension in the room grew, and grew more hotter with each graze of her tits.

it’s only when you’re cupping them between both hands, rolling her nipples and kissing her neck that violet lets out another continuous string of whines and whimpers. her head falls back against your shoulder with a light thump and her eyes flutter closed. “you like that?”

“yes,” she admits pathetically, shapely inhaling at a sudden harsher pinch and grabbing onto your arm, sinking her blunt nails into your skin. “fuck, yes, i like it.”

“my sensitive girl,” you cooed and watched the way her nails contained to sink deeper into the skin. “i could touch your tits all day, so pretty and perfect, love them so much.”

“i love you.” vi choked out, puffing out soft breaths at each squeeze and pinch. “feels good.”

nipping and sucking at her neck, marking up her skin even more, you don’t register the fact violet’s eyes start rolling back into the back of her head with each of your touches, until you pinch her nipple between your fingertips again and her body tenses in your hold and moans loudly all of a sudden.

the angelic sound sends a shiver down your spine.

fluttering your eyes open at the sound, you remove yourself from her neck and that’s when you find a smirk curving up on your lips at the sight of her chest heaving up and down quickly. “baby, did you just—”

“shut up!” vi stammered out of embarrassment and blushed furiously.

“did you just cum by me playing with your tits?”

turning slightly and burying her face in the crook of your neck, vi nods nervously and clings onto you tightly. “it just felt—”

“i know, baby,” you smiled and kissed the top of her head. “how about we see how many times i can make you cum by playing with your tits?”

#♰ mail received #⛧ anonymous #vi x reader #vi x you #vi blurb #vi fluff #vi smut #arcane vi #violet arcane #vi arcane #vi arcane x reader #violet x reader #violet smut

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bambiihee · 3 months ago

Text

𝓑US𝓣 𝓨𝓞UR 𝓚N𝓔𝓔 𝓒A𝓟S 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 방찬

you can't seem to get away from your ex husband, no matter how hard you try.

⧼ 🩹 ⧽ 一 𝓹a𝓲r𝓲n𝓰 ⸝⸝⸝ ex husband!bang chan 𝓍 fem!reader 𝓲nc𝓵u𝓭e𝓼 ⚬ ⚬ ⚬ unnamed oc daughter

𝓰e𝓷𝓻e ⚬ ⚬ ⚬ non-idol au, smut, angst, porn with plot

𝔀arn𝓲n𝓰𝓼 ⸝⸝⸝ dubcon, street fighter and underground boxer!chan, criminal!chan, mentions of jail and gangs, graphic descriptions of blood and injury, toxic and possessive behavior, toxic ex!chan, manipulation, explicit language and sexual content, soft dom!chan, degredation and praise kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampies, dirty talk, breeding kink, impregnation mentions, clit slapping, daddy kink, squirting 𝔀𝓸r𝓭 c𝓸un𝓽. 6. 2 k | ⧼ 🥊 ⧽ 一 𝓽𝓸 𝓵i𝓫rar𝔂.

♫ 𝓫u𝓼𝓽 𝔂𝓸ur 𝓴nee ca𝓹𝓼 ❪ 𝓳o𝓱nn𝔂 𝓭on'𝓽 𝓵eave 𝓶e ❫ 一 𝓹𝓸m𝓹𝓵am𝓸𝓸𝓼e

[n𝓸𝓽e𝓼.] my first fic on my new blog! something shorter to start out with <3 this took me a little too long to write i'm afraid since it's my first go at angst themes but i'm pretty proud of how this turned out! this isn't proofread, so please lmk if there are any mistakes! feedback is greatly appreciated <3

THE KNOCK ON THE door makes your heart fall to the pit of your stomach, cutting through the peaceful quiet of your kitchen like a knife. You drop the pot you were scrubbing in shock, clanging loudly as you grip the edges of the sink in a futile attempt to calm the pounding of your heart. At first you think— hope— that you were simply just hearing things, your little skyline apartment falling back into an uncertain silence sprinkled with the pouring rain outside, an atmosphere that no longer felt comfortable. But the knocking starts again, loud enough to be mistaken as thunder, ringing in your ears like alarm bells. You nearly jump out of your skin, your hands shaking as they reach out to turn off the water faucet. There’s only one person who would ever show up at your door this late at night, and you’ve done everything you possibly could to avoid him for the past four months.

It couldn’t possibly be him. It had to be someone else, your landlord or a neighbor or a maintenance man or anyone. You hadn’t told him your new address, hadn’t spoken to him since the day you packed up your daughter and what little you had and left him, never looking back. But you hadn’t called for maintenance, and you hadn’t heard from your landlord, and the way that his fist beat on the door as if it had somehow offended him was unmistakable.

You consider, for a split, mindless moment, that you could simply ignore him. He’s just a man, after all— a weak, spineless one at that, underneath that intimidating façade he loves to hide behind. He’ll give up and leave eventually, you try to convince yourself, but you know him far too well to fall into that blind hope. The knocking only gets louder and more aggressive to the point that you begin to worry that he’ll wake the baby.

The thought alone is enough to get your blood boiling, a red-hot anger overtaking any amount of fear or trepidation that kept you back. You refused to let this coward affect your daughter, wake her up without a single thought or care when you had just spent hours gently rocking her to sleep. Not after everything you’ve went through to keep him away from her.

You hurl the sponge into the sink with a scowl before spinning around and storming to the door. You wrench it open mid-knock, leaving the man on the other side of it standing there with his fist outstretched and blinking at you owlishly.

The sight of him shocks you to your core, despite how much you had tried to prepare yourself— blood drips into his bruised, swollen eye from a large cut on his forehead, just barely visible behind his wet hair sticking to his skin. The rain washes it away, down his chin to drip onto your welcome mat, staining it a faded red in the outline of his scuffed sneakers. He’s drenched down to the bone, the sharp ridges of his pecs and abs visible through his white tee shirt, the thin dark jacket he had draped across his shoulders doing little to protect him from the ever-worsening downpour. His dominant hand he curls protectively against his bloody abdomen; the knuckles are busted, and his pinky finger is twisted unnaturally to the side.

You look back up to his face just in time for him to flash you a weak, wobbly smile, a wounded ghost of the ones that used to send your heart soaring and fill your stomach with butterflies. His plump bottom lip is split down the middle, a jagged crater that threatens to open even further with every movement he made.

“Hey.” he croons, dropping his fist to his side, pained little smile dropping into more of a wince.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” you hiss venomously, praying to any god that would listen that he couldn’t tell how badly you were shaking. “How the fuck did you get my address? Go away before I call the cops. I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

“Come on, baby, wait—” you try to slam the door shut, but he catches it with ease, and even one-handed he’s stronger than you could ever hope to be.

“Don’t fucking call me that, Christopher. Answer my question.” You sneer, biting back hot, painful tears.

If any of your words hurt him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he extends his wounded hand, prying open his fingers with some effort to present you a bloody, crumpled wad of bills.

“For her.” He says simply.

Your eyes rake over the bills as if they were alien, hardly able to muster up the breath needed to scoff at him incredulously. “I don’t want your dirty money.”

You had a sneaking suspicion of just exactly where he had gotten that money from, it was written all over his busted, bleeding face— under no circumstances would you line your pockets with the bettings from street fights, feed and clothe your daughter with money that people had shed blood for. You had told him this when you had left him, given him the choice to leave it all behind or lose everything.

He chose the streets, and you kept your promise.

Yet you don’t have the strength to slam the door in his face, no matter how much you ached with the desire. Chan keeps the bills outstretched, the blood-smeared faces printed on them winking up at you, taunting you.

“Who told you where I live.”

“…A friend. Please, just take it.” He whispers, just short of begging. “I know how badly you need it. He told me you were struggling.”

“You don’t know anything.” you spit, but there’s no fire behind your words anymore. The rain has put it out, left you defeated, feeling betrayed, admiring how the streaks of lightning illuminate Chan’s hunched over silhouette. Your mind wracks itself for whichever one of his goons could have possibly caught sight of you, but you come up empty. You fear he may have found you through an inside source.

Thunder booms in the distance, much like your heart. The helpless, desperate look in Chan’s big brown eyes sends the rest of your defenses crumbling to dust.

he tries to shuffle his way inside, and you let him— everything inside of you yells at you to stop him, shove him away and close the door, never to look at him again. But you don’t. You slide submissively to the side, open the creaking door open further for him to step into your living room. No matter how hard you try to convince your muscles to move or your mouth to open and retort, all you can do is stand frozen by the door, watching with wide eyes as he drips blood onto the carpet.

He tosses the stack of cash onto the coffee table, the bills unfurling and flying everywhere. You count six, maybe seven million won, all those zeroes staring up at you as your mouth goes agape.

You had been losing sleep for days over having to tell your landlord that you would be late on rent for the third time this year. Somehow, you feel like Chris knows that, though it was impossible to tell how— it brought you back to all the times before where you swore that he could read your mind.

It seems that he still could, even out in those dark alleyways, on the other side of the city. Tethered to him. Just what you were afraid of.

“You’re getting blood everywhere,” you finally manage to say, your usually strong voice timid and weak. “at least let me clean you up.”

Mindlessly, you scamper back to your kitchen, bending down to rummage through the cabinet beneath the sink. your first aid kit was still in there somewhere, hidden behind a mountain of cleaning supplies and spare bottles, something from your old life that you had held on to just in case. It was as if you were moving in a trance, just sheer muscle memory, the situation all too familiar; you couldn’t count the amount of times Chan had come home just like this before, back when you were still together, beaten and staggering but grinning victoriously as you carefully clean and bandage him up. It used to excite you, even, in some sick, dark way. He never lost a fight.

But that was before you had gotten pregnant. Before the danger that lurked beneath the surface of your husband’s lifestyle creeped up on you and became all too real.

“I’m fine.” Chan replies gruffly, though the pain in his voice suggests otherwise. “I just want to see my baby girl.”

Your fingers freeze around the first aid kit, all the heat and color draining from your face. “You’re not seeing her.”

“You can’t keep me from her.” Chan replies coldly. “She’s my daughter, too.”

You jump to your feet so fast that your vision goes fuzzy, spinning around to watch with wild eyes as he balances his good hand on the wall and limps his way to the nursery. You hate how he still remembers where it is.

He smears a trail of blood across your tattered wallpaper. The sight of it shocks you into action.

“You get away from her!” You snarl, nearly leaping across the dining table to grab onto the sleeve of Chan’s jacket. “Don’t you dare go anywhere near her!”

He shoves you off effortlessly, his sheer strength nearly sending you flying back against the wall. “Stop acting like I’m going to hurt her.” He growls, making it to the nursery door in the time it takes for you to regain your senses. “You know I’d never let anyone lay a single fucking finger on her.”

He quietly cracks the door open and steps inside, leaving you to follow him biting your tongue— you can’t bear the thought of her waking up, especially now with Chan in the room. She hasn’t seen her father since she was born, and that was only because he had forced his way inside of the delivery room. He was essentially a stranger to her.

And, quite frankly, how she might react if she lays eyes on him again scares the shit out of you.

Chan staggers to the crib, quiet as a mouse, his large frame bending over the railings to look down into it. Your daughter lay on the mattress peacefully asleep, her little chest rising and falling with her soft, steady breaths. You’ve stared at her for hours before, studying every freckle, every wispy eyelash that brushed against her rosy, round cheeks. The way her nose is already starting to look like her father’s, his dimples forming around the upturned corners of her dainty little lips, always giving the impression that she was enjoying her dreams. Whatever they were, you took some comfort in knowing that they were, they’re better than what waits for her when she opens her eyes.

Chan is nothing short of entranced, grabbing ahold of the crib’s railings with both hands, so tightly that his cracked knuckles were threatening to split back open. He gazes at her sleeping little form with a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before— a fire burning, but not one that hurt or destroyed. Not anything like the fire in his eyes you were used to. It was one that warmed and protected, the watchful, dutiful stare of a weathered knight in armor.

Something warm and heady swirls in your gut, unwelcome but in no way unpleasant. You fixate on his face, unable to look away, and watch awe-stricken as your ex-husband refamiliarizes himself with his daughter’s face.

“She’s grown.” He whispers, undoubtedly able to feel you breathing over his shoulder. His voice is flat and lifeless, but it starts to break at the end— he blinks hard, and you swear for a second that you saw his eyes shiny with tears.

“Oh, she’s a monster.” You reply easily, the rampant emotions swirling around in your head calming down at the sight of your baby peacefully sleeping. Talking about her is soothing, almost therapeutic. “Always hungry. The doctor says she’ll be nearly nine kilograms by the time she’s six months.”

“My little girl… she was so tiny in my arms…” Chan laments, lowering his eyes to look down at his hands. It was like he was looking at someone else’s, shocked by the dirty, bloodied state of them. He suddenly wrenches them from the railings and shoves them in his soaked jacket pockets, the act causing him to grimace with pain. In the peripherals of your vision, you see faint bloody fingerprints smeared across the white wood.

You struggle to keep your voice calm. “She’s gotten so big so fast… it feels like that day was just yesterday.”

Chan’s gaze hardens and grows cold again, his head spinning to stare you down with an ironclad sharpness. “Not to me!” he spits, gritting his jaw. “Not when you wouldn’t let me ever fucking see her, wouldn’t tell me where you were, how you were doing. I’ve been looking for you two for months. How am I supposed to keep you safe, my baby safe? I had to track my family down like dogs. What kind of mother keeps a father away from their child?”

Your shoddy mask of calmness cracks, red hot anger flaring back up again and rising to the surface. Your voice trembles terribly, but the disgust in your words is palpable. “She’s not your fucking baby, Chris! That’s my baby. Mine. You made that call before she was even born. You’re not her family, you’re hardly even her father— you’re nothing to her.”

The last comment strikes a chord within him. He stalks towards you, his dark eyes boring into yours, all that stormy emotion churning in them focusing directly onto you. Chan isn’t exceptionally tall, but you feel so incredibly small underneath him; he looms over you like some kind of predator, his lip curling back into a nasty snarl. “I’m nothing to her because you made it that way.” He seethes, his deep voice growing louder and louder. “Don’t you ever try to put it in my baby’s head that I don’t love her. Stop trying to convince yourself, for fuck’s sake— you both are absolutely everything to me, you know that. Everything that I do is for our future.”

You scoff. “If you really care that much about “our future”, you would have stopped this. Fighting for these clubs. The racing, the gangs. You would have listened to me and left it all behind, gotten a real job. Show me that you actually give a shit and aren’t just blowing smoke up my ass. You’re addicted to this, all of it. It’s sick.”

“You don’t fucking get it, do you?” Chan sneers, shoving his face up against yours. “You just can’t get it into your dumb, pretty little head. What kind of “real job” is gonna take an ex-con? Even if they do, I wouldn’t make nearly as much money as I can out on the streets. All I want to do is provide for you and our daughter; can’t you see that? I’m doing what I have to do to survive. My own future is fucking ruined. You two are all I have left.”

“And you’ll ruin ours too!” you laugh incredulously, directly in his face. “With all your blood money and all the enemies you make. You’re going to get arrested and locked up again, destroy mine and my daughter’s lives— fuck, you’ll get us all fucking killed! What if someone you beat wants revenge?! These are dangerous people, Chris!”

“That’s what I’m trying to protect you from!!” Chan roars, slamming his fist against the crib’s guardrail. His voice and the loud thump startles you, all three of you— you and Chan both peer down into the crib to see your daughter’s peaceful sleeping face screw up, her mouth opening to let out a shrill wail as she kicks out her little chubby legs.

Chan’s face falls, all the bitterness and anger leaving his body in a rush, like he had a bucket of cold water poured over the head. He looks the part, anyway, still dripping wet from the rain, tearing his eyes away from your own to stare down at your daughter as if she were a ghost. Your rage overtakes you to the point it can no longer contain it, your entire body shaking as you manage to grit out two icy words;

“Get out.”

Surprisingly, he does. He takes one last long look at your fussing daughter before slowly turning and shuffling out of the nursery. Your eyes bore holes into his back as he retreats, expecting him to turn around at any moment with some more nasty words to sling your way… but he never does. He stays completely silent as he shoulders open the door, doesn’t even turn to look back at you as it clicks shut behind him.

Part of you wants to follow him, chase him out snarling and snapping like some guard dog, but your daughter’s frightened little cries tug painfully at your heart strings. Tears of your own pool in your eyes as you carefully lift her out of her cot and snuggle her against your chest, soothing your hand down her quivering back as she hiccups into your sweater. “Shhh, it’s okay… you’re safe, Mommy’s got you…”

You rock her until she falls asleep again, fighting the entire time not to break out into sobs yourself, and when you finally place her back down into her crib and slip out of the nursery, you’re not at all surprised to see Chan still in your apartment, hunched over on the couch with his head in his hands.

Your apartment looks like a fucking crime scene. For the first time tonight you’re able to take everything in, all the blood dripped on the floor and smeared on the walls. All the muddy shoeprints and puddles of rainwater. The cabinets under the sink are still swung open, your first aid kit left forgotten on the kitchen floor.

You don’t have the energy to be mad at Chan anymore, your gaze lingering back on his weathered frame. You don’t have the energy to feel anything except empty. Depleted.

Wordlessly, you pick the first aid kit off the floor and make your way to Chan. He lets you cup his face without a fight, raise it out of his hands so you can dab an alcohol pad against the cut on his forehead. The sting makes him wince, but he doesn’t try to move away, looking up at you with eyes full of stars as you wipe away the dried blood from his skin. The dim lamp by the couch cast dark shadows across his handsome face, bathing him in a sensual, intimate light. You can’t bear to look back into them, the way they make your heart twist painfully in your chest, deep chocolate brown so effortless to get lost in. You busy yourself with bandaging up his forehead, and then his lip, and then his busted hand.

“Why are you doing this?” Chan whispers softly, the question making you stop in your tracks.

“I… don’t know.” You admit after a long pause. You do it without thinking, just like when he first stepped inside. Your natural response after seeing him hurt so many times before, playing nurse while he boasts to you about his triumphs, fills you with empty promises and proclamations of love. Your hero, swearing to you that you were his savior. Everything in you still aches to soothe him, heal his wounds and numb his pain, be his guardian angel like you used to be before his suffering became your own.

If he were addicted to the fighting, you would be addicted to what came after.

“I know you still love me.” Chan professes boldly, a wild spark in his eye. “I know you do, baby— you know I love you too. More than anything. Why won’t you let this— us—work? Why are you trying to run away from me?”

Your fingers pause in the middle of wrapping up his knuckles in gauze, quivering slightly as you let out an agonized sigh. “It’s not about whenever or not I love you, Chris. I have to put our daughter first. I have to make sure she’ll be safe and happy.”

You barely manage to finish bandaging up his hand, your knotting work far from the best. The minute you let go of him he pulls you right back, his big hands enveloping yours and squeezing tightly. “She will be, I promise. I’ll keep both of you safe, never let anything happen to either of you— I’ve got the means to keep you protected no matter what happens. You’re my everything… I’m so lost without you.”

His bandaged hand slides up to caress your cheek, his skin so bitterly cold. “Channie…” you warn, but you’re the weakest you’ve been all night. Chan can see it in your eyes.

“I was so fucking worried about you.” He continues softly, hushed like he was kneeling for confession. “I’ve missed you so bad… please, baby, don’t ever leave me like that again.”

Breaking feels a lot like letting go. Dropping all your fear and worry, any semblance of rational thought to finally allow yourself to nuzzle into Chan’s touch. He knows you too well, always knows exactly what to say to get your walls to come crashing down, what to do to when the smoke clears and you’re left defenseless amongst the rubble. Because, underneath all the piling resentment and hatred, the divorce, the distance you’ve been fighting for, you truly do still love him. You fear you always will.

Your eyes flutter closed as you bask in Chan’s affection, preen under his loving gaze and delight in the way he cradles you as if you were made of glass— you feel so precious yet so fragile, yielding to a man strong enough to shatter you completely, leave you nothing but a pile of dust and broken shards.

You’ve never felt safer.

“God, you’re so pretty…” he whispers awestruck, under his breath almost as if he were talking to himself. His thumb maps out the curve of your cheekbone, down, down, down to your pliant, pouting lips. The pad of it is hardened and calloused, rough against the soft skin of your bottom lip, but the sensation leaves you aching for more; you open your eyes to bat your eyelashes up at him, open your mouth to invite his thumb to creep inside.

The flash of carnal, animalistic lust in his eyes sends a wave of liquid fire coursing through you, down your spine to where it pools heavy in your belly. You purse your lips around his thumb and suck it in deeper, hollowing your cheeks as if you were sucking on something else entirely. Chan groans deep in his chest, his other fingers curling tight around your chin to pull you towards him. “Fuck. Come here, babygirl.”

You surge forward to capture your lips with his, and he meets you halfway; the pillow softness of his lips are hauntingly familiar against yours, yet somehow they feel completely brand new, like uncharted territory in a land you’ve ventured in countless times before. Any chastity is quickly tossed to the side with the heady sensation of his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, the warmth in your belly heightening into a wild swirl. You’re shocked by your own eager response, opening up immediately to let him ravish your mouth with a forceful domination that left you weak. He pulls you effortlessly onto his lap, your legs spreading to wrap instinctively around his waist, the closeness of your bodies maddening. Your blood pounded in your ears, leapt from your heart with a scalding fire, and made your body tremble, senses reeling as if you had short-circuited. Clashing emotions whirled around in your head, but your consciousness had left you the minute your lips made contact with his. All you can think of is how passionately Chan devoured you, the force of his kiss almost punishing, like a soldering heat that bonds metal. Yet it felt like anything but a punishment, doused in a honeyed sweetness that called to you like a drug, dragged you under the waves of dreamy tenderness, filled your head with thoughts of how good it would feel to let yourself drown.

You kiss him back with reckless abandon, hands reaching out to hold him, anywhere you possibly can— the wispy hairs at the base of his neck, the worn leather of his jacket, the grooves of his defined muscles through the fabric of his wet tee shirt. He crushes you against him, swallows you within his big beefy arms, one of his hands running down the small of your waist to grab a fat handful of your ass. You gasp against his mouth as his touches grow bolder, massaging the globes of your ass and guiding your hips to glide against his. The outline of his half-hard cock pokes at you through his jeans, growing thicker and stiffer with every passing second, pressed perfectly against the curve of your cunt. Your sleep pants are thin enough to where it feels like you’re wearing nothing at all, and when Chan cants his hips up his bulge grinds right against your clit. He does it again, and again, until you’re squirming helplessly against him, panting and moaning into his mouth.

“Chan, we can’t do this…” you manage to stutter out between kisses, the reality of the situation finally beginning to dawn on you again. But Chan ignores your plea, his lips leaving yours to sear a path down your neck and shoulders. He nibbles at your skin, kisses the pulsing hollow at the base of your throat, distracting you enough to slide one of his hands to cup your pussy.

“Yes we can.” He croons against your heated skin, hot tongue escaping between his lips to lick a tantalizing stripe up your neck. “I can feel how wet this pussy is, baby, how needy you are for me. Just let me in, princess, let me take care of you…”

He slides his fingers down your covered slit, your clothes sticking to your mound with your sopping juices, drenched to the point you can’t possibly hide your arousal. Your engorged clit aches, empty hole clenches around nothing… you whimper pathetically in defeat.

“Come on, say it. Say you want me.”

You really were nothing but an addict. Addicted to the power he holds over you.

“fuck, oh f-fuck— right there!”

Chan knows every single spot inside of you to make you scream, his thick cock hitting each one expertly with each of his powerful thrusts. The angle he has you bent in makes you see stars, his big rough hands clasped tight around your ankles to push your legs up against your chest and spread you wide open— he’s never fucked you this roughly before, his feet planted on the mattress to pound into you animalistically, but even then there’s still a bitter tenderness to the way he holds you up against him, gazes down at you in rapture as you fall apart beneath him.

“Yeah? Right there?” He coos, deep Aussie accent dripping with poisoned honey, “Feel me all the way in your tummy, baby? Feel this fat cock splitting you open? Fuck, you’re so tight, sucking me in. Greedy little cunt.” He lets go of one of your ankles to press down on the bulge he’s made in your belly, your trembling leg curling over his shoulder in ecstasy as the pressure in your core increases.

“So deep!” you hiccup stupidly in reply, fisting the sheets as your world explodes and shatters behind your eyelids. His bulbous cockhead slams repeatedly against your cervix in a punishing rhythm, so deep inside of you that you mindlessly fear that he’s pushed through and was fucking your womb. “Deep! S-so fucking big!”

Chan growls like a beast, his efforts doubling in speed and intensity, “Missed this cock, didn’t you, princess? God, listen to how fucking wet you are. Hear how badly this cunt needed me?”

He emphasizes his claim with a particularly harsh thrust, your pussy squelching obscenely around him and filling your dark, quiet bedroom with loud, filthy noises. “C’mon, tell Daddy how badly you missed this.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you worry that you’ll wake up the baby again. Chan fucks you loudly and shamelessly, like he doesn’t care that your daughter sleeps in the room just across the hall... the thought reignites your anger. You want to accost him, defy him, tell him that you didn’t miss him at all. That you weren’t desperate for him to make you cum and finally leave you satisfied after months of frustration. That you didn’t think of him at night when you played with yourself, or when you took another man to your bed, because as much as it agonizes you no other man has ever made you feel as good as he does. But you couldn’t string the words together, could hardly even think with how pleasure coursed through every fiber of your being. Besides, Chan knows when you’re lying.

“M-missed your c-cock,” you admit between whimpers and moans, your face burning with shame and arousal. “M-missed Daddy’s cock so fucking much, needed it so bad— oh, fuck, Chris, Daddy, please—!”

Chan snatches your hips and tugs you roughly towards him, lifting your bottom half up off the bed to fuck into you impossibly deeper. Your mouth falls open in a gasp of sweet agony, arching your back and tossing your head against the pillows. The show of sheer strength gets you impossibly wetter, your juices coating his heavy balls as they clap wetly against your ass. “Good pussy.” He grunts, his fingers digging bruising indents into the flesh of your waist. “Love this pretty little pussy— gonna fuck it ‘til it’s molded to my cock. Gonna ruin you for anyone except for me. This cunt belongs to me, doesn’t it, baby? God, look at you… taking it like such a good girl.”

His words make your head spin, a searing need building in your core, molten lava beneath your skin heating your thighs and groin. It feels divine, better than you ever remember… but it’s not enough to send you over the edge, give you that release you crave so desperately. “Need more,” you keen, “More, Daddy, please!”

“Greedy girl.” Chan chuckles darkly, the sound going straight to your cunt. “Tell me what you need, baby, and I’ll give it to you.”

You can’t respond, fucked so stupid you don’t know what you’re begging for— Chan tsks like he’s disappointed, letting go of your hips with one hand to grab a rough fistful of your hair. He tugs your head up to look at him, dark eyes dripping with lust and delicious dominance; you struggle to keep your eyes open, your vision swimming and your eyelids drooping from the onslaught of pleasure Chan continues to pound into you. “Too dumb on cock to speak? C’mon, pretty girl, tell Daddy what you want him to do to you.”

He tugs on your hair again, pain erupting across your scalp. It blends with your pleasure to create a heady, dizzying cocktail of ecstasy. You cry out in delight, letting go of the bedsheets to scramble for something sturdier to hold on to, ground you— your hands find purchase on your own tits, bouncing with Chan’s thrusts, and you knead the plump flesh with a wanton sob, your fingers twisting and pinching at your nipples hard enough to make you shake.

“My clit!” you finally manage to whimper out, broken and pathetic. “My clit, my clit— touch me, touch my clit, please!”

He does as he promised, leaning back to spit messily on your clit before letting go of your hair to circle the bud with his thumb. Your head falls back limply onto the pillows, hazy eyes rolling back in your head as you sob and hiccup in uncontrollable pleasure.

“Gettin’ close, babygirl? I can feel it, pussy squeezing me so tight— I’m close too, fuck, gonna cum so fucking deep inside of you!” Chan’s thrusts grow sloppy, his chest heaving as he pants open-mouthed like a dog. “How about that, hm? Want me to put another baby inside of you? So everyone knows not to touch what’s mine? I’ll breed this pussy so fucking full you’ll be dripping my cum for days…”

His words should scare you, should break whatever spell he’s put you under and have you begging him to pull out. But you’ve slipped away from reality, floating mindlessly in an erotic fantasy you’ve convinced yourself is too good to be true. You don’t want to wake up, don’t want to think about what lies ahead of you once Chan leaves your bed once again. You babble and beg for his cum, for him to bring you to your own climax, scratching deep red marks into his chest. They look at home amongst all the bruises.

“Tell me you love me.” Chan grunts abruptly, the rhythm of his thrusts slowing down to barely moving, his cock dragging along your gummy walls deliciously buy far too slowly.

You blink up at him in shock and confusion. “H-huh?”

“Tell me you love me and I’ll make you cum.” He repeats, his eyes boring into yours, a knowing look in his eyes like he can see into your soul. “I love you so much, and I’m gonna show it with all this cum I’m gonna pump into this sweet cunt… don’t you love me too? Just say it and I’ll give you what you want, what you need…”

You’re just on the precipice of orgasm, teetering on the edge but unable to push yourself over, and your poor heart feels so exposed and raw… you can’t help but relent to him, succumb to his desires like you always do.

“I love you! I-I love you, Channie, Daddy, love you s-so much— ah!!”

His hips pick up to a speed that seems nearly superhuman, rutting into you wildly like an animal in heat as he grunts and groans, pinches your clit hard between his thumb and forefinger to make you scream. It feels so good, too good, and big watery tears roll down your cheeks as your body begins to vibrate with your orgasm. You’ve never cried during sex before.

“Let go, my love.” Chan croons, slapping your clit lightly. “Let it all out…”

Your orgasm hits you like a tsunami, a tidal wave of explosive hysteria— with a shriek you squirt everywhere, all over Chan’s hand, belly, thighs, creamy droplets flying with every nasty wet thrust. Your gummy walls spasm around his cock, sucking him in deeper as if to ensure you milk him dry. “That’s it, babygirl, cum for daddy!” Chan howls, intent on talking you through it even as he creeps closer and closer to climax himself. “Fuck yes, such a good girl, making a mess for me— gonna cum now, too, gonna breed this pussy! Ready for it? Gonna take it all, right princess?”

“Yes! Yesyesyes, please, please! Give it to me, daddy!”

He shoots his load deep inside of you with an animalistic growl, hot and thick painting your walls creamy white. It feels never ending, fat cock twitching with every spurt of seed he dumps into your womb, filling you up so much that thick globs of it spills out around him and drips down his balls to mix with the puddle forming on the soaked bedsheets. His legs give out and he collapses against you, gasping for breath with his face buried in your chest; you wrap your weak, trembling arms around his neck, and the two of you dissolve into breathless giggles as you slowly grind against each other ride out your highs. When Chan finally pulls out you see a foamy white ring around the base of his softening cock, sticking in his pubes.

You can feel your spent cunt leak his seed, dripping down your ass— Chan stares at in in awe, his fingers sliding up your sensitive folds to collect it and push it back inside.

“So beautiful…” he whispers, grinning as he admires your creamy bred pussy. His fingers at your hole makes you whimper in overstimulation, and you try to close your legs and squirm away, making him laugh. His eyes crinkle in that adorable way you hate to love so much. “You’re so beautiful.”

You don’t have the heart to make him leave, not when he runs you a warm bath and cleans you up so nicely. Not when he strips the bed and changes the sheets for you so you can lay comfortably, holding you close and whispering sweet nothings into your hair. Not as he promises to you that he’ll change, that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you in his arms, that white picket fences are just over the horizon. You feel weightless, floating, satisfied… and that makes you feel sick.

S𝒯RA𝒴 K𝒾DS 𝒯A𝒢L𝒾S𝒯 ⪼ @enigmaticaphrodite , @jellymochii , @dwaekkicidal , @11vr1 , @yunverie, @arcturus444, @love-ning

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comatosebunny09 · 3 months ago

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carpe noctem [ climax ] | sylus

— summary: sylus drags you onto a mission with him for old time’s sake. and you slide into familiarity, almost like there isn’t a wedge in the form of a beautiful young hunter driving you apart. — cw: explicit sexual content, reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, assassin!reader, mentions of blood, profanity, mentions of pedophilia, mentions of human trafficking, minor character death, men with guns, reader has a shitty past, self-destructive behavior, reader doing her assassin duties, a little romance sprinkled in between, mdni — notes: inspired by mr. & mrs. smith. thank you so much for reading, lovely! [ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5 | part 6 ] — now playing: cariño - the marías — obligatory tags: @withering-dream @an-ever-angry-bi @midiplier @abbylee0710 @picnicthegarden @karespocketboyfriends @chrissy26 @delulusimps @glamouroki @midiplier @celestemcbrim @everywherenothere @ari-shipping-stuff @beewilko @alexhenituse @nim-rose @moonlight-inthe-sea @sunnyf4lls @himiko-omikami @inkonparchment @sillyfreakfanparty @regandoesthings @im-in-different-universe @ravensheart18 @alyyylog @corvid007 (sorry if i missed anyone.)

He wanted to make love. You wanted to fuck.

He wanted you, all tender and pliant beneath him, his name hinged in your throat. He wanted to worship you, to uncover the erogenous zones of your body piece by piece, and to expose you like forgotten treasure buried deep beneath rotting ruins.

But you reasoned you didn’t have time. You were in a hurry—a hurry for what, exactly, you couldn’t pinpoint.

Perhaps you were rushing to feel something, in a hurry to please and to feel useful as you tore his shirt from his shoulders, his body rigid and searing between the thick of your thighs. Pleasing is all you know, serving embedded in your chemical makeup, no room to pursue your own desires.

Your mouths came together so abruptly that your teeth clashed. The counter of his kitchen island was glacial and tacky beneath your thighs. You’d barely divested yourself of your coat before you drew him into an ardent dance of tongues, his abs twitching beneath the artful crawl of your fingers. You tugged at the give of his pants, quietly yet vehemently demanding he take them off. He drew back, wild-eyed and hair mussed, eyes drowsy with want.

“We should slow down,” he sighed, hot and open-mouthed where your shoulder met neck. Blistered down to your collarbone where he nipped, hands roosted on your hips, thumbs soothingly cruising over juts of bone.

It made you sick, his tenderness. You weren’t glass and didn’t deserve to be handled like it.

You chuckled something husky and bitter, tossing your thoughts to the wolves. Your fingers raked through his hair. Grabbing the scruff of his neck, you brought his mouth back to yours, trapping any further words of protest in his throat.

You didn’t want to think. Didn’t want complications. Just wanted to be driven by sensation, tucking your inhibitions into the darkest hulls of your mind.

You’re a bit of a masochist. You enjoy punishing yourself for misdeeds you’ve constructed in your mind—having feelings for your boss, secretly envying your friend. Your use is slowly running its course, and you’ll one day be thrown to the wayside.

You figure you don’t deserve kindness. Sensitivity. You don’t deserve a slow love, the steady creep of an orgasm bubbling in your stomach, evoked by the sluggish grind of hips, words of affirmation whispered like the sweetest supplication into your ear.

No.

You deserve to be used, lusted after. You’ve spent most of your adult life with that mentality, your past having engraved that under your skin. You’ve been a weapon for as long as you can remember. A tool. Loveless. Which is why, when the gentleman who’d frequented Lux wanted to take his time with you, you declined, opting for something more ragged and intense.

He took you hard and rough on his counter at your behest. Left you open, bare, laughing, battling to get your breath under control. You stayed the night to humor him. Let him hold you as he stroked the sweetest compliments of all with ghostly fingers into your skin as the stars in the sky gave way to the gentle spill of sun rays.

You crept out of his arms and apartment once he sank below the misty shawl of sleep. He’d inquire about your whereabouts later—ask why you didn’t stay. You rarely did. Tonight, you felt weak.

You’d ignore him until you next needed him. When the urge to forget sunk its talons into your chest, curling around your heart and squeezing.

You had a mission to prepare for. Sylus’ name lit up your notifications, cryptic as ever with minimal words. You’d deal with your feelings later.

There was work to be done.

Besides, you didn’t even remember his name.

How could you face him when you’d uttered someone else’s name while he was deep inside you?

—

You pay for your escapades in the form of pretty petals of blue and green blooming on your neck the following night. Bite marks.

You rub at the raw skin for the nth time, a hiss forced through grit teeth. Maybe he was a little too rough. Concealer works wonders, coupled with your glamor. Still doesn’t take away the sting, but you suppose the pain is your punishment for being weak.

You stretch, yawning. Shift until the leather of the car’s backseat squeaks. You sense his eyes on you in your periphery, boring down to the marrow. The fine hairs littering your body stand on end. You maneuver again, leant against the door, cheek propped on your knuckles, avoidant as ever.

You try to focus on the scenery unfolding beyond the car’s windshield. Powdery stars spilled over a deep violet canvas. The red glare of brake lights every so often as you approach another vehicle. Try to focus on the driver’s fingers readjusting on the steering wheel, on the fixed hum of the engine, and how it intermingles with the gentle bumps on the road. Home in on your breathing and the thunderous drum of your heart. He’s been watching you like this since you eased into the car—Sylus.

You get this creeping suspicion he wants to say something. Like he knows all your secrets, having perused through them like they’re the yellowed pages of a book. Nah. He wouldn’t know what kind of night you had. He wouldn’t care. You’re a grown woman, capable of making your own mistakes and reaping the repercussions of them. He has other things on his mind—other people.

Another yawn escapes you. You curse yourself for not grabbing coffee on your way out. Too busy pouring yourself into your dress, painting your face with makeup, and meticulously tucking your weapons away.

“Long day?” says Sylus. You jolt the slightest bit at the grit of his voice. How it breaks up the silence and sets your stomach alight with dragonflies. Fabric shifts. His exhale is weighted beside you, thigh brushing yours as he spreads his legs, so very big in comparison to the backseat.

You force a smile, smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress. “You could say that.”

You feel the shift in his gaze. There’s a whisper of bitterness in his tone when he next speaks. “Maybe you should spend less time pursuing your hobbies at night and more time sleeping.”

This time, you do turn. Cut your eyes to him, mouth tugged up with confusion. His expression reads passivity. Mouth scrawled into a rigid line, scarlet eyes fixed to yours, unrelenting. Something’s off about him tonight. You sensed it in the brevity of his call when he phoned you to outline your mission—you’d be accompanying him tonight to a banquet. A glittering, amenable doll on his arm, smiling pretty like murder wasn’t rotting your mind. You’d lure your target away to be snuffed out like a candle’s flame. Slip out without drawing suspicion, and the world would be rid of another shit stain.

He quirks a brow, wordlessly challenging you. No customary smirk comes this time. Just the air weighted with something tense. Your throat clicks when you swallow. You opt for obliviousness, laughing it off despite the gnarling feeling in your gut worming its way up your throat. Despite every synapse in your brain screaming for you to fire back. You’re reading too much into things. He’s being his usual, detached self, and not because he knows you were up to no good last night.

Right?

“Maybe I should.”

The tendons in Sylus’ neck pull, jaw tensing. For a moment, he looks like he wants to keep prodding. But he instead averts his gaze when the driver chimes in, announcing you’ve arrived at your destination.

The venue’s tawny spotlights dance over the windshield as the car crawls to a stop. People donned in expensive formalwear line the sidewalk, animatedly chatting as they await entry. You take some time to admire the historic, art deco architecture before your door opens, the crisp evening air spilling in and fanning over your skin.

You look up when Sylus offers you his arm. His expression softens considerably, contrasting the wet cat he was moments ago. There’s a hint of a smile twitching his lips. He almost looks boyish, and you can’t help taking him in. He’s dressed to the nines, tucked in a three-piece tux, bow tie meticulously tied, hair swept up into a pretty, alabaster coif.

Your lips spasm. You peel yourself from the seat, gathering up the trail of your dress. Twine your arm with his, allowing him to shepherd you through the throng of people. It almost feels like old times, their voices petering to a hush when they catch sight of you. They part like a school of fish as the pair of you make your way up the steps leading to the venue’s doors.

“Stay frosty,” you joke to dispel your nerves, standing before the heavy, double doors, waiting for the attendees to open them.

Sylus snorts, his arm flexing beneath the possessive clutch of your fingers. He pinches the bridge of his nose. And the exasperation in his voice makes your eyes crinkle with mirth. “Please, never say that again.”

You slide into familiarity thereafter, almost like there wasn’t a wedge in the form of a beautiful young hunter driven between you.

—

She said something curious to you when you arrived at the airport earlier—Ms. Hunter. You had the time to spare. You wanted to ask why she requested you drive her instead of Sylus. But you didn’t push it, figuring she had her reasons. Maybe she didn’t have the energy for his nagging, his fretting. She should be so lucky.

She’d be gone for a couple of weeks, swept up in the grueling task of protecting researchers in the mountains from Wanderers. A part of you felt sorry for her. Worried. But she was a big girl. If she could smack Sylus around in Kitty Cards, she could dodge a few teeth and claws, no problem.

“Need help?” you asked over your shoulder, the SUV’s engine humming idly at the airport’s drop-off point.

She smiled at you from the backseat. “I got it!” she chirped as she fetched her oversized suitcase from the floor.

She rounded the vehicle, bowing to your level at the window. Up close, her smile looked more mischievous than usual. Smile lines bracketed her honey-dipped eyes as she murmured, “Be nice to Sylus. He’s trying, ya know?”

You pinned her with a quizzical look, your mouth working around a retort. She left before you could get a word out. You watched her slip through the crowd of travelers milling about before she was out of sight, leaving you to mull over what the hell that meant.

—

It starts to make sense as time passes what she meant.

When you’ve gorged yourself on conversation and champagne, nestled between politicians, CEOs, socialites, and people of the like. Fickle, spewing gossip you can’t be bothered to keep up with.

Sylus rarely leaves your side, only slipping away to chat up old colleagues or to procure you more bubbly. Always has a hand, scorching and possessive, at the small of your back, or an arm slung about your waist, drawing you into the safety his body exudes. He doesn’t correct anyone when they address you as his, giving you a subdued, amused look when you work your mouth into amending them.

You titter shyly, toying with your necklace. Maybe this is a part of your cover—pretending to be his significant other, all pretty and docile at his side. You won’t complain. It’s nice being this close, feeling wanted, and being envied in a different way. Not for your body, but for the man wrapped so willingly around your finger.

It’s felt like ages since you’ve last done a gig together, so you’ll enjoy his attention, even if it’s all a ploy, while you can.

The evening slides by in a blur of twinkling chandeliers and laughter.

Sylus draws you into a dance, and the pair of you are swallowed up by the mass of swaying couples and the string orchestra. Your cheeks ache with a smile, your limbs and inhibitions loosened by the champagne. He holds you to him as you waltz, his body rigid and devastating against yours, languorous fingers curled around your nape. He hasn’t stopped smiling, a boyish dimple cratering his cheek. Hasn’t released you from the scarlet stir of his eyes since, and you smoosh your face against pectoral muscle, hiding the warmth splotching your cheeks.

His heart thrums something steady beneath your ear. Beneath the expensive pleat of his tux. Breaths even, his bewitching scent furling in your chest like smoke. You let him lead you about the glittering marble tiles of the dance floor, feeling like you’re in a dream. Perhaps it’s the bubbly that’s got you toddling through a dreamlike fog, but a fraction of you starts to think, just for a second, you’re more than a cover, and your boss isn’t so detached, shoving you to the back burner in favor of someone else.

Your breath is sharp when he suddenly peels away, expertly twirling you. You laugh as your dress flutters around your ankles, nearly tripping you up. He dips you as the music dampens, the beautiful scenery tilting and blurring. Swathed in the tawny lighting of the banquet hall, you make out his features, something akin to affection loosening his expression, and the smile slips from your face.

The world fades away, and only the pair of you seem to exist in this moment. He pulls you closer until your vision fills with red, fringed by dark, wispy lashes sweeping over cheeks mottled pink. His lips purse as his gaze slides to your mouth, breath stirring your baby hairs. You hold your breath as he eases in, appearing like he’ll kiss you, and you’re stricken by something hot. Your mouths but a hairsbreadth apart, he whispers something that makes your heart sink to your feet.

“It’s showtime.”

The magic of the moment falls away as he steadies you. A pout worms its way onto your face as Sylus tangles your fingers together, a chuckle swelling in his chest. He leads you back to your table, still holding your hand, even long after you’ve returned to your seats and the event’s host takes to the stage to introduce a guest speaker.

—

Nikolai is easy to manipulate. To bend to your will. Of course, he is. All men are if you know how to approach them.

It helps that your glamor erases a few years off your face, giving you the appearance of a young woman barely experiencing the world. His favorite. It only takes you fluttering your lashes, laughing pretty, and flattering him to get him to take you back to his hotel room.

On the surface, he’s a passive, middle-aged man who looks like he wouldn’t harm a fly. But beneath that facade, he’s a scourge waiting to be wiped out. He’s as despicable as everyone else you’ve bumped off, auctioning off girls to nefarious men under the guise of selling “harmless little dolls.” Moonlighting as a franchise owner, using his stores as a ruse to smuggle young girls through the channels of the underworld.

You take that personally, having once been on the auctioning floor yourself. Memories of a past painted red flood your mind, and it makes your stomach churn with disgust. You were lucky then, having been turned into a murderous tool rather than a fucktoy. So, it makes sense why Sylus was so eager to get you on this mission. Like he knew you’d take pleasure in watching Nikolai’s life drain from his eyes, his blood caked up under your nails.

Your smile twitches, threatening to screw up into a grimace as you walk at Nikolai’s side, arm in arm. He’s red-faced and cheery, having gorged himself on champagne and merriment at the banquet. You would’ve snuffed him out if four bodyguards didn’t flank you. Not like you can’t take them, but you’d rather complete your mission as quietly as possible without rousing suspicion.

You just have to keep up the act long enough to isolate him so you can make your move. He’s been ruffling Onychinus’ feathers, claiming to be in cahoots with its notorious leader. Sylus, of course, doesn’t like that, not wanting to be associated with the likes of him. This is where you come into play, his ever-faithful watchdog, ready to kill at the drop of a hat.

Nikolai ushers you into his hotel room, where three more guards stand in good form in the living area. You acknowledge them with a seductive smile, allowing one to frisk you. Your smile grows tenfold when he finds nothing, clearing his throat and straightening his tie as if he’s fallen prey to your charm. Someone should be fired.

Nikolai leads you into his room thereafter, the double doors shutting and locking with finality. You offer him a massage, to which the portly man happily accepts, stripping down to his boxers and plopping onto the king-sized bed. He has a thing for pretty, young girls barely scraping the surface of legality. You’ll see to it he’s ushered into the afterlife by one.

Your hair waterfalls from its updo, warm as it spills onto your shoulders when you pull your hairpin free. You ruck up your gown, climbing over his body to roost yourself on his backside, legs bracketing either side of his waist, heels digging waning moons into your thighs. You’re sultry as you ensnare him in small talk, fingers kneading over layers of fat and muscle. Nikolai hums appreciatively, seemingly thrilled to have your company. Just the way you want him.

Your fingers tip-toe up his spine, thumbs smoothing over the notches of bone there. He exhales beneath your ministrations, remarking how magical your hands are. You huff a laugh as your fingers curl around his jaw, the opposing set burying themselves in his hair.

“Massaging isn’t the only thing my hands are good at.”

With a fluent twitch of your wrists, his neck snaps, the sound barely heard above the gentle croon of the jazz music he queued up beforehand, accompanied by the exhale of a life dying out like a flame.

You pull his eyelids down, easing off his lifeless body. Stare at his corpse with a faraway look in your eyes, smoothing some hair away from his face. Like he’s a sacrifice to the little girl inside, screaming for revenge. You straighten your dress when the bedroom doors rattle, Nikolai’s men frantically calling his name. Shit. Maybe you weren’t as meticulous as you thought.

Quickly, you survey your surroundings for a way out. Spot the sliding doors leading to the balcony, and you dart between them, the wispy curtains grazing over your fevered skin. A wintry kiss of wind greets you as you lean over the rail, hair ruffling, and you take in the bokeh of lights glittering on the street below.

You’re at least eight stories from the ground, so jumping is out of the question. You could very well fight your way out, but Nikolai’s guards are heavily armed. There’s no guarantee you’ll make it out of the fray unscathed.

You lean back against the rail, adrenaline spuming through you, watching the bedroom doors pulse as his guards kick and shove against them. Fuck! Tugging a knife from the garter belt tucked beneath the slit of your dress, you prepare for a fight, body taut, nerves flaring.

Just when you’ve resolved to get your hands dirty, something feathery touches your bare shoulder. Gentle and curious in its embrace, and you whip your head around to its source. You’re met with a smoky tendril, speckled with claret orbs of energy, swirling ominously before you. You peer over the railing, a familiar shock of white blurring into frame. There’s no mistaking the upward cant of his lips, and the crinkle of scarlet-spun eyes from this height. He motions to you with two fingers from the sidewalk, wordlessly beseeching you to come down.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter, a nervous expression stretching your features. Heights have never been your forte, but you suppose beggars can’t be choosers. “Fuck it,” you relent, gathering some courage and climbing onto the rail.

Nikolai’s men finally break through, and as they dart in, spraying the room in a hail of bullets upon seeing Nikolai’s corpse, you fall into the feathery cradle of Sylus’ Evol, a yip ripped from your throat.

You float to the ground like a feather, falling into Sylus’ arms. He looks down at you with something unguarded shining in his eyes, using his Evol as a shield when Nikolai’s men pelt the pair of you with a barrage of bullets.

You lose yourself in the moment. Your lips part, lids heavy with something you can’t quite place.

“Took you long enough,” you chide to dispel the tension brewing between you, trying to catch your breath.

“I’ll be more punctual next time,” Sylus answers with a chuckle, voice rumbling against your body as he casually walks away from the scene, refusing to put you down, even long after he’s warped you to safety.

rising action | masterlist | climax 2.0

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus angst #lads sylus #sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus love and deepspace #carpe noctem series #limerence series

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mrsarnold · 15 days ago

Note

PAIGE FIC BASED OFF OF 8 BY KEHLANI 👅👅👅👅

♪ now playing `🩰` ﹕ 8 by kehlani ❊

pairing ! p. bueckers x fem!reader

warnings heavy smut, alchol, smoking, strap( r receiving), oral (p & r receiving), cussing, a little (alot) bit of teasing, pet names, reader has a tattoo ( for the sake of the lyrics), organism denial (r recieving)

summary your friends dragged you along to a party to get your mind over your douche bag of a boyfriend just to be taken home by your ex.

Music blasted through the club as the smell of sweat and different perfumes filled the room. The blue lights from the leds that were sprinkling on peoples bodies enlightened the room as you watched your friends dance around the dorm

Your friends invited you out to a dorm party but you never really wanted to go. All you wanted to do was sit and sulk about your shitty boyfriend.

You were currently doing that on a distant couch before one of your friends dragged you from the couch so you could dance too. At first you didn't want to but after 3 drinks you were loose to dance. Everything was going fine til you felt hands all over you, familiar hands.

You turned around unknowingly just to be met by a annoyingly familiar face.

"Hey ma", the person finally rasped out, alchol lacing her voice. Paige.

"what do you want Paige"

"nun can't dance with my girl anymore"

you were taken aback from her words but furrowed your eyebrows at her painted smirk. "1. im not your g-." "And who the fuck said that", Paige rasped out as her smirk was long gone and replaced with a frown.

"i did"

"well your wrong, your speaking to the same person who made you cum like .. 8 times before.. hm?"

Her words alone made your legs feel like jello. As soon as she noticed how your attitude shifted she knew she had you wrapped around her finger.

"What no come back? that's sad, im kinda tired of this party lets get outta here", Paige finally suggested making you closely minded agree.

in a swift move your were out the dorm, walking for like forever down to her dorm. once y'all were there she wasted no time and opened the door with ease. Jana and Allie were still at fhe party so it was empty.

"strip, clothes shuda been gone the moment we got in here", Paige finally stated as she slammed the door close nd locked it. You looked at her like she had three heads at the suggestion but you obeyed making if easier for yourself.

Once your underwear was discarded on the wooden floor Paige lips immediately connected with your neck making you moan out. Paige hands finally found your thighs before picking you up and wrapping your legs around her waist, your core being met by her toned abs that was on display from her black crop too.

Paige brought you into her room, bumping into walls here and there but y'al got there. She laid you out on her bed and breaking her connection of her lips and your neck to get a view of you.

"Just as beautiful as i remembered mama", she said before kissing down your body, kissing your stomach then your thighs, then her favorite tattoo that you have. each kiss made you get wetter by the second.

"Paige stop teasingg", you whined out as she placed her last kiss on your core making you squirm

"Can't take it hm? how bad you want me baby", Paige said standing up making you pout. Before you could even respond she started drawing figure 8's on your clit making you moan out.

"That ain't words Ma, also quit that fucking pouting", Paige said speeding up her draws but not to fast

"Need you s'bad please stop teasing", you moaned out as she drew you closer to closer to a organism. Paige felt your organism coming to, the way your cunt became more sloppy at each draw.

"hmm good enough.. cum for me sweet girl", Paige slurred out as her thumb became slower.

You let out one more moan before cumming on her hands, drawing out your high before she pulled her hand away and laid back on the bed.

"You aint done y'know what to do", Paige said as she tugged down her pants and boxers to reveal her glistening cunt.

"Lick me, rub me, kiss me, touch me (Oh, oh)"

You got the hint and scrambled off the bed onto your knees infront of her. You took one last look at her between your false lashes before digging in, kitty licking her cunt before speeding up your pace.

"Such a good girl", Paige moaned out praised as her hand landed into your hair, pushing it out of your face. Her moans slightly riled you up as you continued to eat her out.

"how about you put them pretty fingers to work too hm", Paige moaned encouraging you to speed up. You addef two fingers to her soaking hole which drew her to the edge even more.

"Shi- im cumming", Paige rasped out, whimpering a little as she let out ond more moan before cumming in your mouth. You allowed her ride out her high before getting up, smiling.

Paige just scoffed at your smiling face and got up, "You taking one more ok." You looked at her confused of where she was going as she walked away but you laid on the bed. You stared at closet door waiting for Paige to come out with whatever she was doing before you got a idea.

"No need to stay in the closet that long your already out", You joked before starting to laugh.

"Haha real funny", Paige shouted back as she walked out the closet with a strap harness attached to her waist with a purple strap attached around 6 inches.

Wirhout speaking Paige came closer to you, between your legs and lined up the strap to your entrance.

"Ready", Paige asked making you nod before she slammed into your core making you moan out. She smirked as she she kept her pace as your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

"Love when you slippin' and you slidin' up"

"Mmph- feel s'good Paigey don't stop", you moaned out as your head fell back but paige pulled your head back up.

"Nah keep your head up, wan'see them pretty eyes", She said her pace became sloppy against your cunt growing you closer to the edge. "Keep the eye contact and you'll cum ok", she said as she sped her sloppy pace up making moan out.

"Mmph- can't please", you said shutting your eyes close trying to savor the moment before she pulled out, "Wait what-."

"What did i say? no eye contact no cumming."

tags : @kamii-2 @sweetbcgs @janaelalfysblunt @melpthatsme

#leila's diary .ᐟ 𐙚 #leila's asks .ᐟ 𐙚 #leila's fic recs .ᐟ 𐙚 #paige burckers #paige bueckers uconn #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige x reader #uconn lives #uconn wbb #uconn basketball #uconn #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #uconn x reader

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starkeyisthelastname · 9 months ago

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a trailerpark!rafe blurb for @islandclubchampagneroom 🚬 this is a lil filthy.. you’ve been warned. 😶💦

You looked like a little gorgeous doll, skipping from trailer to trailer with your basket full of goodies you made. You came across your new favorite place, which was Rafe’s trailer. It was kinda run down, but that didn’t matter to you. To your surprise, he was outside already, washing his beat down pickup. You couldn’t help but ogle him a little as he was shirtless, his toned upper body on full display. He made your tummy feel funny every time you were around him, especially when you heard him speak. “It’s a lil’ hot for you to be outside, ain’t it’ baby doll?” He would rasp out.

He held a cigarette in the same hand as he did the hose, rinsing off the rusty truck as the other one brought a can cheap beer to his lips. His hooded blue eyes would stare you up and down, the nasty thoughts already running through his mind as he soaked up every inch of your stunning little self.

“I made cookies! Do you want some?” You asked, voice sweet as you ignored his question about it being too hot.

He eyed you, gulping down the rest of his beer before smashing the can and throwing it behind him. He brought the cigarette up to his mouth, motioning you to come closer. He wrapped an arm around your waist, peering down into your basket. “What kind you make, sweet cheeks?” He asked, squeezing your hip roughly.

You felt giddy every time he touched you, biting your glossy bottom lip as you felt the heat shoot down to your core. “Sugar with sprinkles and umm.. chocolate chip with pink frosting. It’s kinda getting melted though…” You pout, not realizing his hand had slipped lower to feel the lack of panties you had on underneath your cotton dress. He blew out the smoke away from your pretty face, before chuckling darkly. “Well how about you come inside and cool off for a lil’ bit and you can set those pretty cookies down..” He suggested, knowing you’d fall for his trap.

He’d be three more beers in, last cigarette in his hand as the other lifted up your dress. “Why you walkin’ around the trailer park with your cunt all out?” He finally asked, large hand coming down to give it a firm smack. He’d have your back, pinned to his broad chest, his sparse facial hair, tickling your neck. You wiggled against his denim covered lap, the funny feeling in your tummy growing the more he touched you.

“You think this sweet lil’ hole is ready for a grown man’s cock?” His voice in a low drawl as the cloud of cigarette smoke blew down your body.

You were an adult, but your father had kept you sheltered away from everything that was bad. You never had been touched by another man until you met Rafe, and you were desperate for more. You didn’t know what his words meant, but they sounded dirty and your poor little self couldn’t help but nod. He shuffled a bit behind you, putting out the cigarette bud into the overflowed ash tray and lifting you up a little from his lap.

With a pop of his jeans and tug of a zipper, his fat cock smacked against his lower abs as he positioned you back against him. He ran the tip along your dripping folds, loving your whimpers as he teased your greedy little hole. He felt you tense up, gasping as he began to slowly push up into your untouched flower. It took every ounce of him not to completely ram up into your fluttering pussy, your cunt squeezing the fuck out of his dick. “That’s a tight fuckin’ cunt.” He grunted to himself.

You were so full, already dumb on the older man’s cock as the pain subsided for a pleasure you had never experienced. You were at a loss for words, body lazily collapsing against his muscled chest as his dirty hands hooked under your thighs. He began to thrust up into you, his light mustache grazing the smooth skin of your shoulder as he started talking dirty to you. “This is why you don’t come around a bad man like me, sweet baby doll. You get your fuckin cunt ruined.”

You were already too attached to him. Your head spinning as he said the most filthiest things you had ever heard in your sheltered life. Even if he was the exact type of man your father told you to stay away from, you didn’t care. You just didn’t know any better but to be obsessed about the first man to ever give you attention and that happened to be one of your father’s tenants.

“I own you now, sugar. Got that?” Rafe groaned in your ear, the sounds of your pretty moans getting increasingly louder throughout his messy trailer, while he fucked you through your first orgasm. “That’s right.. cum all over daddy’s fat cock, make a mess all over that shit my little fuckdoll.” He told you, feeling you clench around with a scream.

Oh how he was gonna have some fun with you…

#rafe cameron #trailerpark!rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron concepts #rafe concepts #rafe coded #rafe core #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #obx #obx smut #outer banks

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thekinslayed · 1 year ago

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Give You My Lovin’

summary | It takes little effort for your boyfriend, Aemond, to drive you insane.

pairing | modern aemond targaryen x girlfriend!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, blowjob, naughty thoughts, aemond is So Fucking Hot, attempt at drunk sex, alcohol intoxication, spit kink, daddy kink, unexpectedly fluffy at the end!

wordcount | 3.3k

note | a little something to start your week! i need modern aemond astronomically bad. in ways concerning to feminism.

song rec | Give You My Lovin - Mazzy Star

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated! i am open for fic requests <3

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

When you first started dating your boyfriend, Aemond, you had never felt so greedy for someone the way you did for him. You just couldn't get enough of him– his hair, scent, innate confidence, and that face, gods, that was a face you would certainly go to war for. You were insatiable, and so was he. Many dates had been cut short because both your hands started wandering a little too much, or a look from him would immediately have your skin on fire and end up with you pulling him out the door to rush home.

And after 3 years of dating, it was safe to say this man still had you feral from every little thing he did, even without the intention of doing so.

It was early, too early even, to be feeling this way. You both had just woken up in your shared apartment, having a slow morning on your day off. With having lived together for more than a year now, you and Aemond had established your respective routines at home. At this time, both of you should have been out on a morning run, but your activities from last night left a terrible ache in your thighs which had you both staying in that morning. You were still in bed, leaning on the headboard, watching Aemond do pull-ups on the bar by the doorframe. He was only clad in his plaid pajama bottoms, and his back was turned to you, giving you a perfect view of the way his back muscles rippled with every movement. Your eyes watched as the veins on his forearms bulged every time he lifted himself. His arm muscles were well-defined and toned, waist trim, and shoulders wide. Years of calisthenics blessed your boyfriend with a lean, lithe form. He was tall, the tallest in his family, blessed with long legs and a model-like figure. There have been countless moments where girls would come up to your boyfriend in hopes of charming him, but sweet, faithful Aemond only had eyes for his girl.

He puffed out a breath of air with every rep, and droplets of sweat started to run down his back from the sheer exertion. You had lost track of how long he had been doing this, but you weren’t complaining. As he dropped back to his feet, he rolled his shoulders back, letting out a groan. The sound alone went straight to your core, which had been throbbing restlessly while watching him work out. He turned around to face you, and you bit your lip at the sight of his bare chest, sprinkled with light hair. His abs were incredibly well-defined, and you resisted the urge to run your finger down the bumps of defined muscle on his abdomen. How the hell does one even get an eight-pack?

“Baby?”

“Hm?” You hummed, snapping out your trance. The corner of Aemond’s thin lips quirked up when he caught you shamelessly staring at him, and his eye didn’t miss the way you subtly rubbed your thighs together underneath the blankets.

“Did you hear what I said?” he asked amusedly, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Mm… no,” you said sheepishly. Aemond chuckled, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed by your side.

You could smell the sweat off his skin, the heat radiating from his flesh warmed you through the blankets. Your cheeks blushed as you caught the sight of a lone droplet of sweat on the tip of his aquiline nose, right on the cleft. His hand rubbed the side of your thighs, sending a spark that ran up your spine. All of your sense were gone as your blood rushed to your cunt, rendering your mind cloudy aside from the fact of how much you want to fuck.

Shit, were you ovulating?

“Y’alright?” He asked, his good eye studying your face.

“Mhm,” you merely nodded, not trusting your own voice to form words at that moment. He smirked, knowing full well the kind of thoughts running through your head. Aemond leaned his face closer to yours, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Really? ‘Cos you got a little drool here,” He teased you, playfully wiping the corner of your mouth. You slapped his hand away, rolling your eyes as he bellowed out a laugh, though you couldn’t resist the way your lips tugged into a smile. You furrowed your eyebrows to feign anger, grasping his wrist to pull him on top of you.

“Enough of that, come here!”

It was half past 1 a.m. when Aemond opened the front door to the sight of you, drunkenly leaning on your friend who struggled to keep you on your feet. You had been out for girls’ night, and your boyfriend had patiently waited for you at home while you were out. He took you into his arms, thanking your best friend for safely taking you home, before shutting the door behind you both.

“Aem,” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck. Through your drunken haze, you feel a kiss planted on your hair, smoothing out the strands that had gotten messed up.

“Hi, baby,” Aemond greeted you, rubbing the exposed flesh on your waist. “Did you have a good time?”

You hummed as you nodded, leaning on the wall while Aemond bent down to take off your shoes. You had a fun night with your girls, perhaps a little too fun. The lightweight that you were, it only took you a couple of cocktails to have you warm and loose. Though sometime through the night you had started to miss your boyfriend, the fuzzy feeling from the alcohol going straight to your core as you thought about what he was up to.

Aemond guided you through your home with a hand on your waist, slowly taking steps forward while you leaned your weight on him. As you reached the living room, you turned your body towards him, wrapping both arms around his torso, and looking up at him with your chin on his chest.

You let out a deep affectionate sigh as you stared at him through dizzy, blurry eyes. He was wearing his glasses, having been busy reading while he waited for you to come home. The thin frames sat on his perfect nose, the sight sending a warm flutter across your chest. How he made glasses look so fucking hot, you had no idea.

“I missed you,” You confessed, rubbing a hand on his chest. Aemond smiled at your words, leaning down to plant another kiss on your forehead.

“I missed you too, darling. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” he suggested, though you only whined and planted your feet on the floor.

“I need you, Aem,” You said, gripping on his bicep. Your nipples were hard against the thin fabric of your top, poking at Aemond’s chest as you pressed yourself against him. Your boyfriend only sighed, shaking his head slightly as he knew what you were up to. Truth be told, you were always needy for him. Your heart thumped heavily with yearning for his touch, his warmth, and that only amplified when you weren’t sober.

“No, baby, you know we can’t,” Aemond refused. It went against every fiber of his morality-driven being to take pleasure from you while you were intoxicated. His mother would be horrified if he did, reprimanding him that you were a woman, and every woman must be respected as she was the image of the Mother.

But gods, you were irresistible when you were needy.

You stomped your foot childishly at his refusal, grabbing his hand to guide it up your skirt. Your grip was surprisingly strong despite your intoxicated state, forcing his fingers past your panties where your cunt dripped with arousal, just for him.

“Please, Daddy, I need you so bad,” You cried out, hiding your face in his neck. Aemond could feel his resolve faltering as his cock jumped from how your slick coated his fingertips. He gulped, pulling his hand away from your core and wiping it away.

His large hands cupped your face, prompting you to look at him. Aemond’s heart twinged at the frown on your pink lips, your cheeks still adorably flushed from the liquor you had consumed.

“It wouldn’t be right, with you drunk while I’m sober.” He explained, rubbing at your jaw affectionately. Some hair fell into your face, and his fingers tucked them behind your ear.

“I’m not drunk!”

“Okay, alright,” A chuckle fell from Aemond’s lips at your protest, before planting a kiss on your nose. “How about tomorrow, hm? I’ll spend the entire morning making it up to you if you still feel up for it.” A defeated sigh left your lips, accepting you won’t be able to convince him tonight.

Damn you, Alicent, for raising such a perfect son.

You let Aemond guide you to the bathroom, where he helped you change into your pajamas before cleaning your face. He knew how much you would regret it if you went to be with a dirty face, so he clipped away your hair before removing your makeup himself. He held your hair back in one hand as you washed your face, a towel ready in the other. Your boyfriend patted your face dry and then applied your skincare products. The liquid felt cool against your flushed skin, your eyes comfortably closing as you let him take care of you.

The cold water on your face had helped you sober up a bit, and as you opened your eyes, the sight of Aemond’s concentrated face greeted you. The man took everything in his life quite seriously, even something so mundane as helping his darling girl clean her face after a drunken night out. You huffed out a chuckle, prompting him to meet your eyes.

“What’s funny?” he asked, but only getting a shake of the head as a response from you. Your hand grabbed his wrist, stopping his hand’s ministrations. You leaned forward to capture his lips in a sweet kiss.

“Baby,” Aemond tsked, pulling away from you. His good eye met yours, which shined with affection for him. His heart fluttered at the beauty that stood before him, giving you a small smile in return to your shy one.

You were guided to your shared bedroom after brushing your teeth, sinking into the soft mattress as your exhaustion caught up to you. In the darkness of your home, your tired body turned to snuggle into Aemond’s arms. You let out a content sigh, whispering ‘I love you’ into your beloved’s skin.

The sound of Aemond’s breathless moans filled the room as they fell freely from his lips. He was sitting on the couch, boxers dropped to his ankles as your head bobbed up and down his length. Your hair was gripped tight into a ponytail in one hand while the other gripped the armrest of the couch tightly. The movie on your television was completely forgotten, only serving as background noise while you sucked your boyfriend’s cock. It drowned out the wet slick sounds coming from your mouth as Aemond continued to thrust his hips up, chasing his release.

He cursed under his breath when your hand came up to fondle his balls, throwing his head back as you hurled him closer to his precipice. Before the knot in his stomach could snap, he pulled you away from his cock, hurling you up from your knees and onto the couch.

Aemond pulled off your shorts and panties in one go, before turning you around to drape your upper body on the arm of the couch. You could only gasp when he entered you in one swift motion. His hips pounded into you mercilessly, giving you no time to catch your breath as you moaned. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as his cockhead bullied your sweet spot deliciously.

“Aemond,” You wailed, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. The sound of skin slamming onto each other overlapped with the movie soundtrack as the credits started to roll, though both of you still paid it no mind.

Aemond let out a groan, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder. Your cunt throbbed as you heard him pant and grunt in your ear. His hands clutched your hips with a grip that was sure to leave marks, while his pace was still relentless, never faltering.

“Ha, so fucking tight. Perhaps I should fuck this pussy more, hm? Give it more attention?” He grunted in your ear. You whimpered at his words, walls clenching in excitement at the thought. “Yeah? You like that, baby?”

“Fu- yes, Daddy,” You whined shamelessly. Aemond let out a dark chuckle, planting a kiss on your temple before sitting back on his haunches. He pulled out his cock to manhandle you onto your back, before thrusting into you again to continue fucking you into release. Your leg draped over the back of the couch while the other was gripped tightly in Aemond’s hand. You lowered your hand to rub circles into your clit, but your boyfriend slapped it away to rub it himself. His thumb drew fast, hard circles onto your pearl, making your toes clench as it tightened the coil in your belly. You were so close, and Aemond could feel it with the way your walls spasmodically tightened around his cock.

You could feel your climax threaten to wash you over, and as your moans only grew louder in pitch, Aemond’s hips thrust into you harder and harder. A chorus of ‘uh, uh, uh’s helplessly fell from your lips as you felt yourself being sunken deeper into the plush couch.

A hand came up to the armrest above your head to ground yourself when Aemond took both of your thighs and pressed them against your chest. Your tailbone lifted into the air as your body folded in half like a doll. Aemond watched your eyebrows furrow and your jaw fall open, before clutching your cheeks to spit into your mouth. He gave you a praising pat when you swallowed, and continuing to rub your clit once more. His good eye stayed on yours which had grown dazed as you lost yourself in the throes of your pleasure.

As his hips continued to thrust into you in tandem with the circles he drew on your pearl, your thighs began to shake when you felt the beginning of your release. You let out a long whine, clutching onto Aemond’s bicep as you spilled around his cock. The man above you groaned as your walls squeezed his length, prompting his release. Curses continued to fall from his lips as your spasming walls milked him dry.

You felt boneless as you caught your breath after your climax. The weight of Aemond’s body was a welcome comfort as he collapsed on top of you, equally as breathless. His softening cock remained in your pussy which had only begun to slowly stop its spasms. The combination of your juices dripped around his cock, running down your slit and onto the couch. You reminded yourself to clean your mess later, but with Aemond still lying on top of you, you remained motionless as you basked in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

The glare of the television was still bright against your closed eyelids, which had redirected to the menu after long minutes of inactivity. You opened your eyes to the blinking reminder,

'Still watching?'

The sun shone brightly as you lounged by the courtyard in the Targaryen mansion. You and Aemond had visited for the weekly brunch organized by his mother as a chance to see her children. You loved driving up to their family home, relishing in the chance to get away from the bustling city for a moment in the quiet farmland the historic manor sat upon. Beside you, was Helaena, who indulged you with the latest gossip at the veterinary hospital she worked at.

“People saw them leave together for their break, and they were gone for more than an hour!” She exclaimed, wildly waving her martini glass around. Despite your interest in the juicy details Helaena divulged, you could only half listen to her words as you mindlessly sipped on your martini. Your focus was on a sight by the grass, where your boyfriend played with his nephews and niece. He let the children roughhouse him, rolling around in the grass as they climbed up on top of him. Aemond had always had a sweet spot for his sister’s children, while his own heart longed for babes of his own. Your heart warmed as gleeful laughter and shrieks echoed through the air, chuckling as you watched the tall silver-haired man fall helplessly to the children’s mercy. You hadn’t even noticed when Helaena stopped talking, your good friend only watching the lovestruck look on your face as your attention was fully on Aemond.

“Have you guys talked about it yet?” She asked. You tore your gaze away from the grass, turning to the woman beside you.

“About what?” you responded, clueless as to what she was referring to.

“Y’know, having kids, getting married,” she indicated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You blushed at her words, downing the cocktail in your hand before fidgeting with the stem of the glass.

“Uh, a little bit? I-I mean I want to have kids with him for sure, but… I don’t know if we’re ready yet,” You stammered, flustered with her abrupt question. Your gaze returned to your boyfriend, who had now risen to his feet, carrying all three children. Jaehaerys and Maelor clung to his legs, while Jaehaera was carried on his back. They all squealed in delight as Aemond trudged through the grass, slow and careful to not drop them. Your heart warmed at the sight, mind helplessly wandering to the thought of him being a father to your own kids. He’d expressed his want for children, often in the form of whispering his intent to breed you and leave you full of his seed during sex. But those are uttered in the heat of the moment.

Still, you can’t help but yearn for the moment when you would finally vow to be his forever and to have a family of your own.

Aemond managed to walk back to where his brothers stood without any of the children falling off. Upon seeing Aegon crouched with open arms, the boys let go of their uncle’s legs to run to him. The elder Targaryen managed to catch both boys, carrying them in his arms with no complaint. He turned to his younger brother, who shifted sweet Jaehaera from his back.

“Your girl looks like she could eat you any second, brother,” Aegon commented, eyes flickering to where you lounged with Helaena. Daeron snickered, covering his lips with the bottle of beer he held when Aemond shot him a look.

“You can’t say that in front of the kids, Aegon,” Aemond reprimanded. The children paid the adults no mind, having asked to be put down again to run off and play in their little playground.

“Y’know Mum’s asking for more grandkids? Said she wasn’t getting any younger,” Daeron said, wiggling his eyebrows at his older brother. Despite his mother’s young age, Alicent loved being a grandmother and was constantly dreaming for more grandchildren, often directing the request to her favorite son every time she brought it up. She absolutely adored you and has been treating you as her own daughter since early into your and Aemond’s relationship.

“Yeah I know, I’m working on it,” Aemond sighed wistfully, snatching Daeron’s beer to take a swig, despite the youngest’s protest.

Aemond turned to where you sat, giving you a wave when you flashed him a sweet smile. He felt happy to see you with his family, especially with his mother and sister, who were both the most important women in his life. It felt right, having you here. He could see a future with you in it, and babes of your own to play with. Truth was, Aemond was more than ready. He would take you down to city hall to marry you right away the moment you asked. He would give you the grandest of weddings, however you liked it.

However, it couldn’t be just up to him. If you needed time, he would respect it, and if you decided that marriage wasn’t for you, well, what else could he do?

Still, the longing weighed heavily in his chest, as did the ring that sat in his pocket.

#bella writes ✍️#aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen #modern aemond #aemond smut #aemond fluff #ewan mitchell #hotd x reader

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makelemonade · 1 year ago

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BEST FRIENDS TO FUCK FRIENDS - GENSHIN MEN

Warnings; NSFW, (18+), Female Reader, implied to have a big chest (not crazy big like be realistic) and a GYATT (sorry), p in v sex, seductiveness, implied squiring, a little sprinkle of degradation (use of the word “slut”), Semi-Public, unwanted pics (He wanted them), mentions of jerking off/masturbation, sinful thoughts of your best friend, raw sex, idk tell me if I missed anything, HORRIBLY WRITTEN SMUT. ITS SO BAD.

Notes; I was supposed to write this for Thoma originally so if this name is somewhere in here…ignore it. If you like this, support me on kofi! Link in masterlist!

You’ve been his best friend since secondary school, and you couldn’t deny the feelings you had for him within high school.

You always denied it though, because you just couldn’t ruin the friendship. But, now you’re both in university, stuff changes and you definitely grew some stuff..

Your feelings for him turn into sexual desires when you realize it’s been a long time since you’ve done anything. You’ve been so occupied with university that you couldn’t even spend some time on yourself…

What sets everything off is when he invites you to his house in the spring to swim. Seeing those abs and the water dripping off his chest…holy shit. Is it bad you wanted to lick all that water off or?

You bring up the topic of friends with benefits, but not between you two (yet), just what he thinks of it.

When he isn’t opposed to one with a friend, that’s what changes your mindset completely. You knew he wasn’t the best at making those type of moves, but with your assets…

It starts a week later when you ask to sleepover at his house after a party. He agrees.

This is gonna sound crazy, but you purposely puked over yourself by drinking too much so he could give you his shirt. You decided, that not wearing any shorts was now your way of sleeping!

So, here you were in his room, in his shirt, black underwear that was hardly covered, and a bed for the both of you to share.

He gulped, lingering for a while but said nothing and just got into bed. He was gonna think about your ass for a while.

You got in beside him, and maybe an hour later if he’s asleep and you’re not, you’ll secretly inch yourself closer to him, so when he wakes up and finds your hardly covered ass rubbing against him, he’ll have to go to the bathroom.

What sets him off completely is in the morning when you stretch, your arms going up and exposing your bare legs and stomach. He couldn’t stop staring.

The next step isn’t too far away; Maybe 2 weeks later. He invited you to come for a swim again, and this one was a hard decision between a bikini or a horribly fabricated shirt that exposed everything.

You decided to go for a bikini that didn’t have the best fabric, so when it got wet…

“A bikini?” He spoke. “What happened to your shorts and shirts?” You usually never went with bikinis, if it wasn’t obvious already.

You shrugged. “Change of habit.”

The cold water made your nipples pop, going through the fabric completely. Did I mention the bikini was also white?

This, is what gets him thinking about you a lot from now on.

Later in the week you’re FaceTiming him, and he noticed the change in clothes. You’re wearing a dress from HIGH SCHOOL. It was so small that the side of your breasts were out.

He had no shame in hiding the fact he was staring at them the entire FaceTime.

In the middle of taking, you pretended to drop your phone by your leg, but he didn’t expect that when you’d pick it up, he’d catch a glimpse of his favourite colour as your tight panties before you quickly moved the phone back up.

He has to hang up 5 minutes later.

Now, your next idea is gonna sound absolutely horrible.

You took pictures of yourself, none of you naked but had a sexy lingerie set in his favourite colour and sent them to him on Messages

And 2 seconds later you’re spamming him on Snapchat,

DON’T OPEN MY IMESSAGE

IGNORE IT

I DIDN’T MEAN TO SEND IT TO YOU.

Now, he’s curious, so of course he tells you he won’t look and says he’ll delete the chat.

But really he’ll save them to his phone and definitely jerk off to them.

Now, the next step is the final step, and takes the most courage.

You invite him out to the club, wearing a sexy right black dress that showed your curves perfectly.

Since this was gonna take up a lot of courage, you took maximum 2 shots to get your mindset a little changed for this.

He takes the same amount you do, and you’ve both been to multiple parties where you’ve gotten blackout drunk; 2 shots would make sure you’d remember everything.

When the both of you make your way to the dance floor, you’re shaking, but you keep telling yourself you can do this.

The next song plays and you’re both dancing together,

And the next thing he knew, you’ve turned around and you’re grinding your ass right on his pelvis. He freezes for a bit, and you’re scared; Have you gone too far?

But suddenly, his hands are on your hips and he’s moving the two of you to the rhythm, keeping your ass pressed against him.

You dance like this for another minute or 2 and then he moves his arms up around your waist, pulling your back against his chest as he starts to kiss your neck, sucking on it.

You let out moans, wishing he could hear them.

One hand makes its way up to grope your tit, he could already feel your nipple with how tight your dress was. “No bra?” He spoke into your ear so seductively, making you whimper.

He then grab your arms, dragging you to the washroom.

~~~

The small washroom mirror is steamed as your pressed against it, sat atop the sink, the both of you sloppily making out as his dick pushed in and out of of your cunt, your fluids dripping all over your thighs.

“Fucking slut,” He grunted, throwing his head back at the pure bliss. “You knew what you’ve been doing, haven’t you? All those, fuck, pictures? The bikini?”

You just grinned, tongue lolling out as your eyes rolled back into your head. “Nghh- fuck!”

He slapped the side of your ass, “Tell me how much of a slut you are, since you wanna be treated like one”

“Mmm- FUCK! I’m a slut, I’m your fucking slut, nghh~!”

“Good girl,” He panted, fucking into you harder. “I dreamed of this.” He groaned, laughing. “Fucking this tight pussy. It-fuck! Belongs to me now.”

Somehow, his thrusts became even harder, making you scream as you clawed at this back, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “Don’t stop!”

“Scream louder, maybe you’ll beat the music,” He snorted, and you wanted to slap the grin off his face, but you’re met with pure bliss as you meet your high.

“I’m cumming!Imcummingimcumming!”

You screamed as your fluids gushed all over his pelvis and he kept fucking into you. Maybe you beat the music.

It didn’t take long until he came into you. Ropes of his warm seed plastering your insides. He panted, resting his head on your shoulder.

You both stayed like that for a few minutes, the both of you too overstimulated to move.

At some point he pulled out, making you whine. His cum was starting to spill out and he shook his head, shoving 2 fingers in.

“Let’s go back to my place, I’m not done with you yet.”

-THOMA, ITTO, ALHAITHAM, KAVEH, AYATO, Tighnari, Albedo, CYNO, CHILDE, Pantalone, DILUC, Kaeya, ZHONGLI, Xiao, NEUVILLETTE, Wriothesly

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abby-howard · 3 months ago

Note

You mentioned deadlifting to prevent wrist and back pain/injury when drawing👀 I was wondering if you could share your workout routine if you haven’t already?

Definitely!! I love talkin about it haha. And I'll preface that this is just what I do, but if you want a professional's advice, I've heard good things about the book Draw Stronger by Kriota Willberg.

Tony and I usually work out 5/6 days a week, three days of lifting and two or three days of cardio, with at least one rest day a week. I always make sure to do a cardio warm up before lifting, between 15-30 minutes of either the stationary bike or rowing machine. That's what I have available, you can also run or do jump rope or whatever gets you goin'! Sometimes when it's a just-cardio day we go for long walks and talk about work. Good stuff gets done on those walks 👍

Our lifting routine is arm day, leg day, shoulder day, and we usually do 5x5 sets of everything-- so five sets of five reps per workout.

I sprinkle in farmer's walks really often, which are the best for wrist strength!! Especially if deadlifts are too intimidating (deadlifts are super good for your grip strength and back, but can be a bit scary because it's usually a high weight.) You just hold a weight in one hand, pretty much the highest weight you can hold while keeping your shoulders level, and walk in figure 8's (for balance) until your arm gives out. Then switch arms. Any time my hand starts to feel iffy, I do more farmer's walks and it helps!

More specifics under the cut:

On arm days we do mostly bench press and bent-over dumbbell rows, sometimes with abs worked in (I like to do windshield wipers or whatever it's called, where I hold the bar like I'm doing a bench press then bring my legs up on either side until my abs give out.)

For leg days, we do barbell squat and deadlifts. It's also fun to do the slam balls as part of leg day >:] Where you pick up a heavy ball and throw it down and scoop it up in a squatlike motion. It's a fun one!

There's ALSO a time-efficient leg workout I do when we're on deadlines where you do three minutes of wall sits in total, and can take as many breaks as you need, but for every break you do ten bodyweight squats. It usually leaves me feeling like jello.

Shoulder days are focused on lat pull-downs for me and pull-ups for Tony (I can only do pull-ups with a counterweight ToT), then shoulder press (where you sit up and lift a weight over your head.) It's good to pair opposite motions like pushing/pulling! I think we also tend to do bicep curls on these days? They're a grab-bag of whatever extra stuff we want to do.

This schedule is not super rigorous, but is enough that I push myself to do something almost every day while usually not being so exhausted that it cuts into my work. It's the kind of thing that I can keep up for the rest of my life, which is what I'm interested in! Maintaining a routine to protect my joints and mobility for as long as I can ✌️

I used to see working out and the gym in general as something I was punishing myself with, and that meant it was a miserable part of my day and working myself up to it was a mentally exhausting task. But Tony has been really helpful in shifting the way I view working out as something more like regular maintenance, and of course it helps that I found something I could work towards getting better at, which is strength training!

So while I recommend that artists work in some arm strength exercises, I do feel it's about finding something that feels like a part of your routine rather than something you dread doing every day.

#workouts #fitness #long post!

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 9 months ago

Note

Daemon’s daughter and being in love with Aemond. Sprinkle some taytay songs in there

Request: Daddy I love him with Aemond I beg you

Although the song title references The Little Mermaid, the lyrics screams Aemond. I started writing this when the TTPD came out, but I lost the file (I searched for it but it’s no longer there…) and had to start over -_-

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’But Father, I love him!’’

The words escaped your lips before you could hold them back.

Daemon's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he registered the implication of your words. He had forbidden you from courting Aemond Targaryen long ago. He thought the matter was solved, that the one-eyed prince was out of your head – of your heart —, but apparently you had gone behind his back and disrespected his authority. He shouldn't be surprised; you were your father's daughter, after all.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. He knew all too well that you had inherited his fiery temper, and a clash between your wills would only end in disaster. ‘’Love?’’ Daemon scoffed, his voice dripping with skepticism. ‘’What do you know about love?’’

Your eyebrows knitted together in a frown, hurt and anger flaring within you. Just because you were young didn't mean you couldn’t know what love was. Your feelings for Aemond were true and pure.

‘’You are not to see Aemond anymore. I don’t want you to ever go back to King’s Landing. Am I understood?’’ Daemon's voice was cold and authoritative, leaving no room for argument.

‘’You can’t cage me in this castle,’’ you shot back, your defiance burning brightly.

‘’But I can assign a guard to follow you around,’’ Daemon countered, his tone unyielding. ‘’Do not underestimate how far I will go to keep you from him.’’

The room fell into a tense silence as you watched your father leave your chambers, slamming the door behind.

You wanted to scream in anger and frustration. Why was everyone protesting your and Aemond’s courtship? In a realm where political marriages overpowered ones of true love, they should be happy for you. Instead, they were demonizing the man you loved.

Aemond didn’t always make the right choices, but he was not a bad person. He had a heart, and genuinely cared for you — contrarily to what your father believed. You met him on the day of your mother’s funeral. He found you in a corner of Driftmark, crying by yourself. He offered you comfort while your father was avoiding his daughters, not knowing what to say to any of you.

⁂

If your father thought he could control you by having a guard follow you around all day, he was strongly mistaken. A fortnight had gone since he forbade you to see Aemond, and you were already planning an escape. You had sent a raven to King's Landing, informing Aemond of all that happened with your father and requesting to meet you at the Iron Gate on the new moon, which was tonight.

You waited until nightfall to change into your riding clothes and sneak out of Dragonstone castle. Assuming you were sleeping, Ser Erryk had left from his post and gone abed for the night in the sword quarters, leaving you without a chaperon until morning.

The flight to King’s Landing took longer than you had calculated, but you made it before the first ships would sail through Blackwater Bay.

From above, Aemond could be seen waiting for you by the gate, standing tall in his black leathers and his sword secured on his hip. He must have been waiting for you for most of the night.

You landed with your dragon on the shore, and skillfully dismounted before running up to him. Your hair billowed in the wind, the joy spreading on your face as you got closer and closer. A warmth spread through your chest as he finally embraced you, his arms closing around you, holding you tight.

‘’You are here,’’ Aemond murmured in your hair. ‘’I was beginning to believe your plan had been discovered.’’ He released you, taking your gloved hands in his and kissing them. ‘’Come. It’s cold out.’’

Sneaking inside the Red Keep was nothing new. You had done it many times.

The door of Aemond’s chambers closed behind you. He cupped your chin and pulled you up towards him, his lips finding yours like a magnetic pull was forcing them together. A soft, loving kiss, making up for the time spent apart.

You wrapped your arms around Aemond’s neck as you felt him grabbing your thighs and lifting you up to press you against his body. The maneuver was much easier without a dress in the way. You tangled your fingers in the back of his hair, wrapping your legs around his slim waist as you nipped at his bottom lip.

Aemond let out a guttural moan, breaking the kiss. ‘’Don’t,’’ he warned, his lips so close you felt his warm breath when he spoke. ‘’You drive me mad when you do that…’’

His warning triggered your defiance. With mischief in your eyes, you took his bottom lip between your teeth, and released it. ‘’That?’’ you asked, playing the innocent card.

Aemond’s eye darkened at your defiance, and he gave you a glare that could make even the bravest men run for the hills. He walked you over to his bed, setting you down on his velvet sheets. You pulled him down with you, but Aemond stopped you, standing to remove his sword and anything that would bother him when holding you close.

You wished you had more time together, but you needed to depart for Dragonstone before the sun started to rise. If you stay longer, your father will be alerted of your empty bed and you’ll have to face the wrath of his anger.

⁂

Drenched in rainwater, guards opened the doors as you stepped inside the castle. You got caught by the rain on your way back, which slowed you down.

Without surprise, your father was waiting for you in the great hall.

His voice was stern as he questioned you. ‘’Where have you been?’’ Daemon waited expectantly for your explanation, although he already has his suspicions.

He had been your age once. It seemed some of his worse traits were in you too — stubborn, defiant, impulsive. And now he was the one who had to deal with it. Add to this your mother’s fiery personality, and it became Daemon’s worst nightmare.

Fortunately for him, your sister did not share those traits as strongly as you.

‘’Good morrow to you, Father. Did you sleep well?’’ you asked, trying to find a quick lie.

Would he believe you if you said you went for an early walk on the beach?

Daemon's eyes narrowed as you evaded his question with your own greeting. ‘’Don't play games with me, young lady. A maid came in to see if you needed help dressing for the day, and found your bed empty. Dragon gone. You were with him!’’ His voice dripped with venom.

You couldn't hide your late night escapades from him. There was no point in trying.

With his gaze fixed on you he continued. ‘’He's going to ruin your life, ruin your name,’’ Daemon roared, slamming his fists on the painted table just as Rhaenyra walked in, holding baby Viserys on her hip.

‘’I do not care! My name is mine alone to disgrace. He’s the one I want, the one I love,’’ you shot back, wishing he could see past his hatred.

‘’May I know what it is with the loud voices this morning?’’ Rhaenyra asked, glancing between you and Daemon. ‘’You can be heard in the villages below the Dragonmont.’’

Your father turned his gaze toward his wife, trying to keep his temper in check. ‘’She flew to King’s Landing in the dead of the night to see that one-eyed Hightower cunt!’’

‘’Do not call him that!’’ Your eyes were blazing with anger.

‘’Daemon,’’ Rhenyra scolded, her eyes going to young Viserys who should not be hearing such words.

‘’Don’t go thinking I am out of ways to keep you away from him,’’ Daemon warned. ‘’You might have slipped from Ser Erryk’s watch, but I will exile you to Pentos if that’s what it takes. The Prince’s son is conveniently looking for a wife.’’

Your eyes welled with tears, but you blinked them away. Pentos was where your mother died. The thought of going there and being forced to build a family made you unwell. ‘’Y-you wouldn’t dare.’’

‘’I would. You will not marry Aemond Targaryen. I’ll never allow it.’’

‘’I’m afraid you have no choice,’’ you said, straightening your back before bringing a hand over your stomach. ‘’His babe is in my womb.’’

A murderous look twisted on Daemon’s face. His hand tightened over his sword, as if he was ready to bolt on Caraxes and behead Aemond Targaryen. Kinslayer was not a title he was afraid of.

Beside him, Rhaenyra grabbed his arm, silently telling him to not do anything impulsive.

‘’No, I'm not,’’ you quickly added, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. ‘’But you should see your faces.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry @frutiloopslupin @minedofmoria @aleemendoza2425-blog @quinquinquincy @Rosey1981 @maria-reads-everything @eddieslut69 @barnes70stark @baybaybear @prettyduckling22 @Briefwinnerpersonaturtle @darlingcharling-blog @deliaseastar @Wolfgirl-205 @visenyareads @Nanaldy @Lovelywiseprincess @not-neverland06 @newtmyhusb @mikimimic

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity @Anouknani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21 @Spacexdrago @nhlfs

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #prince aemond #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon season 2

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jesssain · 16 days ago

Text

Bathroom Encounter PART 1

You are standing in the Bathroom, nothing but a towel wrapped around your body. Your skin wet from the hot water that just sprinkled all over you in the shower.

You are brushing your wet dripping bob length hair as the bathroom door suddenly opens. You look over to it, seeing your best friend standing there. Caleb. Hes wearing nothing but a black boxershort, probably just woken up like you did 20 minutes ago.

„Morning.“ you say with a gentle voice, a small smile on your lips.

Caleb leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his muscular chest. His dark hair is tousled from sleep, and his eyes slowly rake over your body, taking in the sight of you wrapped in a towel. "Morning," he replies, his voice low and slightly husky from just waking up.

You keep brushing your hair, but your eyes are on him. He always was insanely attractive, tall, perfect teeth, pretty eyes. But over the last year he really overdid himself with his training. He gained muscels, muscels you would die to bite into.

You let your eyes wander over his form, his chest is broad, defined, his nipples a bit hardened from the cool air. Arms as big as your head, trained biceps that could crush skulls into a million pieces. Strong veiny hands, long fingers, perfectly to be wrapped around someones throat. His abs are perfectly shaped into an 8-pack, glistening in the morning light. The small happy trail leaving down from his belly button into his boxershorts.

Your pupils dialate as soon as you take in whats laying underneath his boxers. A prominent, big morning wood.

„Slept well?“ you ask, clearing your throat a bit, trying to make smalltalk instead of thinking how perfectly it would feel to be fucked by him over this sink.

Caleb smirks slightly, noticing the way your eyes linger on his body, particularly the bulge in his boxers. He shifts his stance, making the fabric tighten against his growing erection. "Mhmm, like a baby," he says, pushing off the doorframe and taking a step into the bathroom.

„Good, thats good.“ you say, a soft smile on your lips. Your eyes darting back down even tho you dont want to. The scenarios in your head playing games with you again.

You focus yourself on your reflection in the mirror, your curves covered with the towel thats slightly drenched already from slurping up all the water.

He moves closer, standing behind you but not quite touching. You can see his reflection in the mirror - his height towering over you, his muscular form almost intimidating. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "You... forgot a part," he says, holding out his hand.

You can feel the warmth radiating off of his body behind you, towering over you. You look up to his eyes in the mirror.

You stop your brushing motions and hand him the brush.

He takes the brush from you, his fingertips brushing against yours, leaving a spark of electricity between you. He starts to gently brush your hair for you. His chest presses against your back, his morning wood now pressing into your lower back.

You feel your breathing getting stuck in your lungs as you feel the hard warm bulge pressing against your towel clad back.

„Thank you.“ you say softly, your voice strained with this growing arousal you feel since he stepped into this bathroom. Your eyes are on his trough the mirror, watching his biceps work as he brush trough your wet bob.

Caleb's smirk deepens as he notices your reaction, the way your breath hitches and your pupils dilate. He continues to brush your hair slowly, using it as an excuse to stay pressed against you. "You know, pipsqueak," he says softly, his voice low and intimate, "you have beautiful hair."

You gulp, your throat bobbing at the tone of his voice. So intimate and low. You humm, knowing if you say something your voice will be shaky and strained with your growing attraction. Your hands are on the counter, knuckles turning slightly white from holding onto it, desperatly trying to concentrate on something else than his literal rock hard cock, pressed against your lower back.

He finishes brushing your hair and sets the brush aside, but doesn't move away from you. Instead, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. "And you smell really fucking good too," he murmurs, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

Your body shivers as soon as he pulls you flush against him, his breathing onto your neck is making your skin tingle.

You let out a soft gasp. „Caleb what are you doing?“ you breathe out. Its normal for you to hug, to be close, but not half naked.

Caleb's hands slowly slide up your sides, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist. "Just appreciating my best friend," he says, his voice a low growl against your neck. His hips press forward slightly, grinding his hard-on against your backside through the thin towel. "Is that so wrong Pipsqueak?"

You grab the sink harder, keeping yourself grounded, atleast desperatly trying to. „You shouldnt..“ you trail off, your lids fluttering at the feeling of his rock hard bulge rubbing against your cheeks trough the fabric.

Caleb's grip on your waist tightens, and he presses his erection more firmly against you, making sure you can feel every inch of him. "Shouldn't what, pipsqueak?" he asks, his voice a low rumble. He knows exactly what he's doing and how it's affecting you.

You try to form a proper sentence in your head, a valid reason to not grind your ass against him right now but there is none in your mind.

He feels your hesitation, the way you're gripping the sink tighter, trying to resist the urge to wiggle back against him. He takes advantage of this, slowly rocking his hips forward, rubbing himself against your backside possessively. "Answer me," he growls softly before he starts kissing your neck.

„T-this.“ You breathe out, despite your urge to fight it your words coming out as gasps.

Caleb's lips curve into a satisfied smirk against your neck, knowing he has you right where he wants you. He continues to grind against you, his erection throbbing with each movement. "This what, pipsqueak?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. "This feels so wrong to you?"

„No.“ you gasp out immediatly. Knowing it feels everything else but wrong. Your body is driving on autopilot now and you push your ass back against him, adding preassure onto his hard errection. Your curves still only covered by the towel.

A deep moan escapes his lips at your movements, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts through the towel. "Then what's the problem?" he rasps against your neck. His hips buck forward, grinding against you firmly as his thumbs trace circles over your nipples. "Why are you fighting this?"

Your breathing comes out in ragged gasps, your nipples instantly hardening beneath the towel. „Were… best friends.“ you pant. Trying desperatly to explain why you should not be grinding against each other in your bathroom.

Caleb's grip on your breasts tightens slightly, his fingers digging in as he pulls you closer. "And best friends don't fuck?" he asks, his voice low and challenging. He grinds against you harder, his breathing growing heavier.

You let out a gasping chuckle. „No.“ You pant „Best friends dont fuck.“

Caleb's lips curl into a smirk, his hips continuing their relentless grind against you. "Then maybe we should stop being best friends," he growls, his voice thick with desire. He pinches your nipples gently through the towel.

„Fuck.“ you breathe out as soon as he rolls your nipple in his fingetips trough the towel.

All rational thoughts you ever had are gone. Your mind clouded and spinning around him, around his touch, his smell and his words.

You grind your ass back on his length, your half lidded eyes searching his in the mirror.

Caleb's smirk widens as he watches your eyes meet his in the mirror, darkening with lust. He leans down, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, "Look at you, grinding all over me. Seems like you need it pretty badly, huh pipsqueak?"

Oh he has no idea. You grab his wrist of the arm hes teasing your breasts with. You turn your Head to the side so your eyes meet directly. „Stop fucking talking.“ you breathe out before you crash your lips onto his.

Caleb groans into your mouth as soon as you kiss him, his lips parting to allow your tongue to slide in. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you back firmly against his body as his other hand moves up to grip your hair tightly. He deepens the kiss, his tongue dominating yours.

Your tongue is desperatly trying to win over this kiss. But failing miserably. His whole beeing is radiating off domination, making your knees weak and your pussy wet. And you let him manhandle you.

Caleb breaks the kiss, panting heavily as he looks at you in the mirror, his eyes filled with a feral hunger, with one swift motion the towel is on the floor. "You're so fucking beautiful," he growls, his hand moving up to wrap around your throat possessively. "I'm going to destroy you, pipsqueak."

Your whole body is humming in hunger already, your skin covered in goosebumps as soon as you are fully naked infront of him.

He watches you in the mirror, his eyes darkening dangerously as they drop to your full breasts, your tiny waist and the bare V between your legs. He slides one of his hands down your body slowly, palming your stomach possessively before sliding down lower, cupping your bare pussy.

You let out a soft gasp, your mind spinning.

"Look at yourself," he commands, his finger slowly stroking up and down your slit. "Look at how fucking perfect you are." His other hand still firmly wrapped around your throat, tilting your head to force you to meet his eyes in the mirror.

Your body is shivering under his touch, under the way his voice is dripping in this dominant tone.

"You're going to come all over my fingers, pipsqueak." He says it as a statement, not a question, his fingers moving between your legs, spreading your folds and pushing two fingers inside of you. "And then you're going to watch while I fuck you into this countertop."

You let out a loud soft moan as soon as his fingers are sliding into your already wet pussy. You grip the sink again, trying to hold yourself steady while getting fingered by your best friend.

The sounds of wet motions combined with moans and gasps filling the room.

Your eyes flutter shut in pleasure as soon as he curves his fingers inside you, adding preassure to your walls.

Caleb's eyes never leave yours in the mirror as he begins to finger-fuck you harder and faster. The sound of your wetness grows louder as he curls his fingers perfectly against that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble. "Open those pretty eyes," he commands roughly. "Watch me make you come."

And you do, you open your eyes. Following his evey command like you are a robot, born to obey him. The mirror is big enough so your vision ends shortly before your knees, seeing his fingers glide in and out of your most vulnerable part of your body. His fingers glistening from your juices.

"fuck..." he mutters darkly, watching his fingers disappear inside you. His thumb finds your clit and begins to circular motion, forcing you to arch your back. He bites down on your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin. "You're taking my fingers like such a good girl..."

Your grip on the countertop tightens as he stimulates all the right spots. His fingers hitting your g-spot perfectly and his thumb rubbing your sensitive clit making your legs shaky. Its way too long in the past since you cum. Way too long in the past that you touched yourself like that.

He can tell how close you are, your walls gripping his fingers tighter and your entire body tensing. He leans down, his voice rough and hungry in your ear. "Come on my fingers, baby. Soak them. Show me how much you needed this." He bites your ear harshly. "Now."

His words are your final string. Making your eyes roll back in pleasure and your knees buckle as your walls clench around his fingers. „Caleb.“ you moan.

"Louder," he growls, his fingers hooking deeper inside you as he tries to catch your releasing juices in his palm. "Say it again." He punctuates each word with a thrust of his fingers, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

„Caleb!“ you practically scream. Obeying everything he says to you.

He smirks wickedly at your scream, feeling your pussy spasm around his fingers as you come undone. "That's my girl," he praises darkly, continuing to milk your orgasm with skilled fingers. Suddenly, he withdraws his soaked digits and shoves them into your open mouth.

You let out a whimper as soon as your pussy feels empty again, but it gets muffled by his wet fingers. You taste yourself on your tongue, something you tasted before. Instinctively you wrap you full lips around them and suck them clean, your half lidded eyes on his in the mirror.

Caleb's pupils dilate with desire as he watches you suck his fingers clean, tasting your own arousal. He pulls them out of your mouth with a pop and brings them to his own lips, sucking off the remaining juices. "You are fucking Delicious," he murmurs, his gaze burning into yours in the mirror.

Your body shivers at the sight of this, before you push your naked ass against his boxershort covered length. „Are you holding your promise to let me watch while you fuck me against this countertop?“ you ask, your voice strained and breathy as you are still panting from your orgasm.

To be continued…

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