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winxanity-ii · 2 months ago

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SINS OF DEVOTION [2/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (p in v ; fem. receiving hand-job/fingering; overstimulation; creampie, wrap before you tap kiddos; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery) word count: 3.6k a/n: wasn't planning on expanding the one-shot, but here we are. i literally stayed up 7+ hours to write this just cuz i got a bunch of praise in the notes 😩 i'm weak... anywho this is a continuation of my previous one-shot, '𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.' If you haven't read that yet, I recommend starting there to understand the progression of their relationship….final part: 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Ever since that night, you couldn't look Father Charlie in the eyes. How could you, when the man—the symbol of the glory of the Father above—had been buried between your thighs like a man starved?

Just looking at him brought back all the feelings, the emotions that twisted and churned inside you, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed.

Every time you saw him in the chapel, his gaze lingering on you from across the room, your heart would race, your skin tingling with the memory of his touch.

You would try to focus on your duties, your prayers, but the image of him kneeling before you, his mouth claiming every part of you, would flash in your mind, making you falter. Your hands would tremble, your voice would break, and you would feel heat rising in your cheeks, knowing he was watching you.

And he was always watching you.

His eyes would find yours whenever you entered a room, his gaze dark and intent, filled with a hunger that hadn't diminished in the slightest since that stormy night.

You could feel it even from a distance—the way his eyes seemed to follow your every movement, as if he was marking you as his. It made your breath catch, your body reacting in ways you couldn't control, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through you.

It was a regular Sunday mass when he finally cornered you; a neighboring pastor was visiting, giving a sermon, while you were cleaning out one of the confessionals.

The faint sound of the sermon echoed in the background, the low, rhythmic cadence of the visiting pastor's voice carrying through the church. You were kneeling on the ground, scrubbing the tiles, your sleeves rolled up to keep them out of the soapy water.

The scent of cleaning solution hung in the air as you worked, your humming soft, almost absent-minded, a gentle hymn that you barely even noticed yourself singing.

You were so absorbed in your task that you didn't notice the shadow fall over you until it was too late. You looked up, startled, your eyes widening as you tried to regain your composure.

"I'm sorry, this confessional booth is out of commission at the moment, I'm cleaning—" Your words trailed off as your gaze traveled upward, and your breath caught in your throat when you realized who was standing there.

It was Father Charlie.

His presence filled the small space, and you could feel the air grow heavy around you, your pulse quickening as his eyes locked onto yours. There was something about the way he looked at you—something dark and knowing—that made your heart pound, your hands freezing where they rested on the damp cloth.

The brush slipped from your fingers, falling back into the soapy water with a splash that sprayed droplets onto the floor and your habit, snapping you out of your daze. You stuttered, "F-Father Charlie," quickly standing up, giving a short bow. "Blessed Sunday morning, Father."

Charlie's lips twitched up into a smile as he stepped further into the cramped confessional booth, the door closing with a soft click behind him. "Blessed Sunday to you as well, Sister ____."

Your eyes flickered to his lips, your breath catching as your mind flashed back to how he had used that very mouth to bring you to the brink of pleasure—his lips, his tongue, every sinful movement etched into your memory. You swallowed hard, your face warming at the thought, your hands fidgeting as you struggled to look anywhere but at him.

You cleared your throat, your voice coming out small. "Is there... is there anything I can do for you, Father?"

Charlie hummed thoughtfully, taking another step closer until he was right in front of you, the space between you almost nonexistent.

Your gaze dropped to his chest, the black fabric of his cassock filling your vision, the scent of him overwhelming—something warm and clean, with a hint of incense. You could feel your heart pounding, your breath hitching as he spoke, his voice low and deep.

"There are many things you could do for me, Sister," he murmured, his tone shifting, darkening, as his lips curled into a smirk. "We could pray... or perhaps," he paused, his eyes glinting as his voice dropped even lower, "you could help me find a different kind of release."

Your eyes widened at the crude implication, your gaze shooting up to meet his, only to find him already watching your face, his eyes hooded and dark, filled with a hunger that made your stomach twist.

You felt heat pooling low in your belly, the tension in the small space between you almost unbearable. You shook your head slightly, your voice coming out in a whisper, shaky and unsure. "Father Charlie, we shouldn't... we can't..."

Charlie didn't answer, not with words. Instead, he took another step forward, his body pressing against yours as he used his arms to cage you in, one hand bracing against the wall of the confessional beside your head. His other hand moved to cup your cheek, his fingers tilting your face upward, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You could feel his breath, warm against your skin, his face so close that your noses almost brushed. His eyes were dark, filled with something raw, something that made your knees feel weak.

He leaned in even closer, his lips hovering just above yours, his voice a whisper, almost pleading. "Do you know what you do to me, Sister? How you push me to sin, how you make me want things I shouldn't?"

His hand left your cheek, moving down to grab your wrist, guiding your hand between your bodies, pressing it firmly against the hardness straining beneath his cassock. Your breath caught in your throat, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you felt him, your eyes widening, your entire body tensing at the sensation.

"Feel that?" he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "That's what you do to me. Every time I see you, every time you look at me with those innocent eyes... you make me lose control."

You felt your heart racing, your mind spinning, a mix of fear and something else—something dark and thrilling—coursing through you as Father Charlie's hand held yours in place, his gaze locked onto yours, unrelenting, his lips brushing against yours in the barest of touches, waiting, coaxing you to give in.

Your thoughts raced. So many times since that night, you had fantasized about him, dreamed about him fully taking you, about giving in to the desires that had been eating away at you. But now, with him right in front of you, so desperate, so wanting, it made you dizzy.

You were a nun, a devoted daughter, a wife to the Lord—yet here you were, on the verge of surrendering. Your lips parted as you took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, trying to cling to the last shreds of your faith.

But then you licked your lips, and you saw how his eyes immediately zeroed in on the movement, darkening with something almost primal. His gaze was intense, unblinking, and you felt the pull, the weight of his need, and it made something inside you snap.

With all the bravery you could muster, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his.

It was soft, a gentle peck, barely more than a brush of your lips against his, but it was enough to make your heart race like you were running a marathon.

For a moment, you thought you could pull back, that this brief kiss could be enough to satisfy whatever it was burning between you.

But then Charlie groaned, the sound deep and raw, and before you could pull away, his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you back to him, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. His tongue slipped between your parted lips, invading your mouth, exploring, tasting.

The kiss was nothing like your timid attempt—it was fierce, overwhelming, consuming.

You felt his tongue caressing the inside of your mouth, tracing the shape of your teeth, stroking your own tongue, coaxing it to move with his. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world, as if he was savoring every second, every taste.

You felt your head grow light from the lack of air, your body trembling, but still, you were locked in the kiss, unable to pull away, unable to do anything but respond to him.

Your hands moved of their own accord, one of them gripping the front of his cassock, the other reaching up to tangle in his hair. The soft strands slipped through your fingers, and you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the way his body seemed to hum with tension, with need.

Charlie's other hand moved to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the hard lines of his body pressing into yours, the heat of him searing through the thin fabric of your habit. It made you feel like you were drowning in him, in his touch, his taste.

You whimpered against his lips, the sound muffled by the kiss, and he responded with a low growl, his hand tightening on your waist, his lips moving more insistently against yours.

Charlie pulled back, his forehead resting against yours as he panted, his breath hot and heavy, mingling with your own. His eyes were dark, filled with something raw and unrestrained, and he let out a low groan, his voice rough with desire. "I wish so badly to mark you up, to strip you down right here and lose myself in you," he murmured, his words sending a shiver down your spine. The explicitness of his words made your cheeks burn, your face flushing as you pressed it into his neck, trying to hide your embarrassment.

But he wasn't done. He tilted your chin back up, his thumb brushing over your flushed cheek, his eyes searching yours. "But it's too risky," he whispered, his voice filled with regret, and something almost feral. "So I'll settle for something much quicker."

As he spoke, his hands moved down, fingers traveling lower, bunching up the fabric of your tunic around your waist. His touch was frantic, almost desperate, his hands squeezing and kneading every inch of you he could reach, as if he couldn't get enough.

You could feel his fingers digging into your thighs, your hips, pulling you closer, pressing you against him, and it made your head spin, made your body ache with a need you didn't quite understand.

Your hands trembled as they found their place on his shoulders, your fingers hesitating, curling slightly in the fabric of his cassock. You wanted to touch him the way he was touching you, to let your hands explore, but you were too shy, too overwhelmed.

The intensity of his presence, the way his body felt against yours, it all left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.

Charlie's gaze remained locked on yours, his eyes dark and filled with something raw, something that made your pulse quicken. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low murmur, almost a growl. "You don't have to be afraid... just let me take care of you."

Your breath hitched, your body tensing as you felt his hands venture lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. Your eyes widened, a soft gasp escaping your lips, but it was quickly swallowed by Charlie as he covered your mouth with his own, his lips moving against yours, silencing your small cries and whimpers.

His fingers moved with purpose, finding your most sensitive spot, rubbing slow circles against your clit. The sensation made your knees go weak, your body trembling against him as he worked you with an expertise that left you breathless.

You tried to pull away from the kiss, to catch your breath, but he wouldn't let you, his mouth insistent, his tongue coaxing yours to move with his, swallowing every sound you made.

Your hands clung to his shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric as you felt his fingers slide lower, teasing your entrance before slowly pushing inside.

A muffled whimper escaped your throat, your body tensing at the intrusion, the sensation both strange and thrilling. He moved slowly, his fingers stretching you, coaxing your body to relax, to accept him. You could feel every movement, every inch as he filled you, his touch deliberate, patient.

His lips never left yours, his kiss growing deeper, more demanding, as if he could feel your hesitation and was trying to coax you further, to draw you into the darkness with him. He pulled back for just a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he spoke, his voice a low whisper, thick with desire. "You feel so good, Sister... so perfect. Just let go for me."

Before you could respond, before you could even catch your breath, his hand moved to your thigh, his fingers curling around your leg as he lifted it, wrapping it around his waist.

The new angle made everything more intense, his fingers sinking deeper, his thumb brushing against your clit, drawing a shuddering moan from your lips.

The warmth in your belly grew, turning into a small flame that licked at your insides, consuming every thought, every hesitation; your body responded to his touch, your hips moving against his hand, seeking more of the pleasure he was giving you.

Charlie's breathing grew shallow, his eyes darkening as he watched you, his gaze roaming over your flushed cheeks, the way your lips parted, the soft gasps escaping your throat.

Your thighs trembled, your body growing tense as you felt the pressure building, the sensation coiling tightly in your core, threatening to snap at any moment.

But just as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, just as the first waves of your orgasm began to crest, Charlie stopped. He pulled his fingers away, leaving you gasping, the sudden emptiness almost painful.

A soft, desperate whimper escaped your lips, your eyes fluttering open, wide and confused as you looked up at him.

He met your gaze, his lips curling into a wicked smile as he brought his fingers to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours as he sucked them clean, his tongue swirling around each digit, savoring the taste of you. "You taste so sweet, Sister," he murmured, his voice thick with lust, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "I could spend all day between your thighs... but right now, I need something more."

He shifted, his hands moving to the waistband of his robe, shuffling the fabric around as he freed himself. You couldn't see anything, the fabric obscuring your view, but you felt it—the hard, heavy length of him brushing against your inner thigh, the sensation making your breath catch, your leg twitch involuntarily at the contact.

Charlie moved with a practiced ease, his hands gripping your hips as he shifted you, lifting you as if you weighed nothing.

Your back pressed against the wall of the confessional, the cold surface a stark contrast to the heat of his body. He adjusted his hold on you, his arms wrapping around your thighs, lifting them until both of your legs were hooked around his waist.

You felt exposed, vulnerable, the position leaving you completely at his mercy, but there was something about the way he looked at you, something in his eyes that made your heart race, made your body ache for more.

His gaze locked onto yours, his eyes filled with a mix of lust and something deeper, something that made your breath hitch, your fingers clinging to his shoulders as he held you up, pressing you against the wall. His forehead rested against yours for a moment, his breath warm against your lips, his voice barely above a whisper. "You drive me mad, Sister... Forgive me, I can't hold back any longer."

He adjusted his hold on you, one arm wrapping tightly around your waist, holding you up against the wall with ease while his other hand moved beneath the ruffled fabric of your habit.

Your legs hitched open wider, instinctively allowing him more access as you felt the warmth of his hand trailing up your inner thigh, his fingers brushing against your skin. The anticipation made your breath catch, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited, your body aching for his touch.

You gasped softly as you felt something blunt press against your clit, moving up and down your slit, the sensation different this time—firmer, hotter. You thought it was his fingers again, but then Charlie let out a soft sigh, a quiet, breathless "fuck" that made your eyes widen, the realization hitting you all at once.

He wasn't using his fingers. It was him, the hard length of him brushing against you, spreading your slickness as he moved, the pressure making your head spin, your body growing even wetter at the sinful, blasphemous intimacy of it.

His movements were slow, deliberate, his eyes locked on yours as if daring you to look away, to deny what was happening. But you couldn't—your gaze was trapped by his, your lips parted as soft whimpers escaped, the sound swallowed by the heavy air between you.

Charlie's breath grew more ragged, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Do you feel that, Sister? Do you see what you do to me?" His voice was thick with lust, his words a mixture of reverence and something far more depraved. He moved his hips, sliding himself against you, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body, making you moan softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

His lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin as he began to push inside you, his voice low and shaky as he muttered a scripture, the holy words twisted by the desire lacing his tone. "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..." His voice trailed off into a deep, guttural groan as he sank deeper, the stretch almost too much, a sharp burn that made you gasp, your eyes squeezing shut as your body struggled to adjust to him.

Charlie paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours once again, his breathing heavy, his eyes searching your face as if looking for any sign of hesitation. But you were too lost in the sensation—the way he filled you, the way your body seemed to mold around him, the burn slowly giving way to something else, something that made your toes curl, your breath hitching as you nodded, a silent plea for him to keep going.

He smiled, a dark, almost tender smile, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, "Perfect." His hips moved again, slowly at first, his movements careful, deliberate, as he began to build a rhythm, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure through you, the feeling overwhelming, all-consuming.

And as you clung to him, your body trembling, you knew there was no turning back, no escaping the hold he had on you.

The two of you got lost in one another, the heat between you burning like a fire, desire crackling like embers, growing hotter with every movement. Charlie's pace quickened, his breaths coming out in harsh pants, his groans muffled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn't get close enough.

The rhythm of his thrusts grew more erratic, each one more desperate than the last, the intensity making your head spin, the pleasure building until it was almost too much.

You could hear him, his voice a mix of groans and soft, needy whines, his lips brushing against your neck, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. His hands gripped you tighter, holding you in place as he moved, the friction, the pressure, everything pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your body tensed, your muscles clenching around him as the band inside you finally snapped, the pleasure washing over you in a blinding wave. You gasped, your head falling back against the wall, your eyes squeezing shut as your entire body trembled, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, riding out the high.

Charlie shuddered in your arms, his own body tensing as he felt you tighten around him, his movements growing sloppy, desperate, until he finally stilled, his hips pressing against yours as he let out a low, guttural groan.

You felt the warmth of him spreading inside you, the sensation almost surreal, the realization that you had pushed him to this point, that you had made him lose control, making your heart pound even harder.

He stayed like that for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his eyes half-lidded as he looked at you, something almost soft in his gaze.

Slowly, he pulled away, his hands moving to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your flushed cheeks as he leaned in, his nose bumping gently against yours, a small, tender gesture that made your heart swell.

Charlie's eyes held yours, his gaze intense, filled with a mix of emotions that you couldn't quite decipher. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, his voice still thick with the remnants of his desire. "Pleasure is deceitful... as it was for the harlot, yet I cannot resist you."

A/N: alright guys, chill with the praise and notes or i won't be able to get rest 😔🫶🏾🫶🏾jkjkjk keep them coming i'm a whore for them 🥴

2K notes · View notes

97kuu · 16 days ago

Text

PRESSED IN THE STEAM

summary: There is only so much he can handle visually of your wet, hot and exposed body in an a private onsen before his member starts craving more than simple touches and thrusts between your thighs.

Au; boyfriend jungkook!

Paring; jungkook x reader!

wc: under 3k

Warnings; Smut, tattoed jeon, pierced jeon, above average jeon, very very Needy!jungkook, Desperation,, f grOaping, br3st play, slight nippl3 play, h0rny jungkook, humping, self-play (m), vocal jungkook, thighs, dub-con, teasing, jungkook focused, PWP. It gets intense on his side.

Semi edited

With his back facing the warm shower head water he reached down to grab the bottle of unsented soap you brought to the hotel. He squirted about 2 ounces of said liquid in hand before setting the bottle back on the mini-sitting stool.

Shuddering as his colder temp hands rubbed the soap onto your neck and back, you heard him chuckle at your slight cuteness. “Cold, cold, cold. Please share the warmth of the water soon” you plead, bare body beginning to need the warmth of warm water.

“You did choose to wash me first, not my fault that the thought wasn't planned well enough.” he jokingly pointed out while finishing lathing your back in soap, purposely leaving your ass alone for when he’d turn to your front.

Groaning in defeat at poor planning, you still didn't regret it knowing he enjoyed the back kisses. Which at heart was more important than the coldness you felt now. Speaking of, your nipples harden at the feeling of his cold soapy hands cupping your breast in his hands as he massages and toys somewhat at them. Ignoring the slightly naughty gesture of it, you relaxed your head to the side of your shoulder as he massaged your breast with soap.

Laying his chin on your shoulder, he pulled you close to his warm and bare chest as he watched your chest rise and fall in relaxation. Keeping note of the enjoyment of your breast getting massaged lightly in his palms, his lips went straight to your neck to plant a few kisses before pulling himself together and off you before going to rub your abdomen and thighs.

“Turn for me darling,” he requested softly, backing up a bit so you were now facing him. Smiling at him, he smiled back and brought you closer to the warm water before deciding if he should continue with the indeed risky gesture of gripping your ass or not. With the decision not to, he smacked it before exiting the shower room to the mini onsen attachment to it.

Due to privacy glass and being high up you both could enjoy the cloudly view of nature outside your windows without the need to be covered for public decency. Thankful for that, he went over to the floor sunken pool of warm water, adjusted beforehand due to testing it then ran nakedly to the shower, he was able to comfortably walk in a slightly large ground tub area with the water going up to his knees.

Submerging himself in the clear water, he took a deep in and then exhaled out in relaxation. While his eyes closed shut for a few seconds. Opening them up he tilted his head back and to the side to see your soapy body exposed slightly from this angle. Curently tongue in cheek, his mouth salivated in hunger watching your hands rub soap around your inner thighs. His eyes once soft, darkened admit observing the way the white soap drips down your thighs, causing not only his eyebrows to raise slightly but for him to bite the inside of his cheek.

“God you're hot,” he whispers under his breath, body slouching and thighs opening wider out as his full attention is on your nude body. Pulling his attention away from your body, he smirked with a quick slight head tilt to the side. Without shaking it off he allowed his mind to darken and cloud his head with rather sexual images of your body.

With the thought of his member deep in you as you were bent over the bed, legs spread and hands cuffed behind your back as he gripped onto them for added pleasure. Oh, the way you gasped trying to restrain moans back had him gripping harder as he pounded with bent knees. The sweat dripping from his chest and groans, mixed with whines and soft cries had him in a choke hold then, and fuck would he do anything to be that turned on again. With a deep chest sigh of building frustration, he looked around aimlessly trying to find some dumb ass excuse of a distraction from your body and yet, he went back watching you turn off the showerhead and walk out.

With a swift focus back on your eyes and down your body as he watched the sudden jiggle of your body, his eyes got bigger, and with a gulp watched you come closer. Faking it, as if his heart wasn't racing and his head focused on not sex, motioned next to him as he got up, walked over, and helped you down the steps. Although aroused, wasn't gonna stop him from being a gentleman.

“Thank you” you smiled, as he kissed your cheek and turned the small water jets up a notch to get a little more movement. Which not only would keep the water moving, but hide the fact he was physically starting to show his arousal. Although you were his girlfriend and didn't have to hide it, he did it just to entertain himself, and edge himself mentally. It was the thought of edging himself to the view of you now in front of him that made his gaze completely dark and noticeable. He was horny and undeniably horny if anything.

Thankful once again, never hid his love for your body so his checking your nude body or clothed body was considered a normal behavior from him. His eyes traced your neck and breast, lowering to your trimmed-down pubic hair. You once again ignored it, enjoying the warmth of the hot bath and beautiful scenery in front of you, well that was jungkook and the now foggy windows.

“Make reservations or order a pizza to the-”

“Ordering indoors” he interrupted eyes zoned out and staring around your neck area.

“Pizza? Noddles? I saw they had a Korean place around the corner” you suggested, his eyes coming up to you with the mothing of “that's it” coking from his lips. Chuckling, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes allowing the sounds of the soft splashing water to take over your mind. You were truly at ease. Meanwhile, jungkook took this as an opportunity to take his bare hand and stroke up and down from his tip to mid-shaft looking at your breast in awe.

‘I want you more than ever right now’ he thought to himself, breathing deeply as he slightly hunched over. Licking his lips, he thought back to when you first came to the hotel about 3 days ago, his lips licking your nubs and mouth pulling on them with no mercy, and your hisses of pain sounded like heaven in his ears. The way he took his tattoed hand and cupped your breasts together and licked each bud, the skin around and from each breast to the other. Fuck he loved that, he loved your breast and the way he could cup them, slide his shaft between them until he erupted and laced your body with his seed. So much so, his hand involuntarily started stroking faster, chest rising and falling faster, and yet eyes still and focused on your breasts. His breasts.

“I can't stop thinking of your breasts,” he utters softly, sound muted by the semi-loud water crashing from the jet. Bitting down, the metal from his piercings pushed against his lips and he a soft sigh with a short realization of how sensitive he was becoming to touch.

Risking it, he let the semi-tough grasp around his shaft go before coming towards you and sitting beside you. Without further thought and a huff, he picked you up a bit to sit you on his lap. Erected, between your thighs ad you sat eyes open in confusion and head turned to him. You watched as he put his hands once again back on your breast.

“I think you need a massage again, your body is tense.” he lied, laying your back on his chest before spreading your legs open wide on his and chin back on your shoulder.

“Maybe you're right, I think the mountain viewing yesterday made me tighten up a bit. Good choice” you agreed, a kiss planted upon on his cheek as he groped your breast in circles.

Squeezing and bouncing it a bit in his hands, his lips went back to kissing your neck and this time roughly wanting to make hickys and marks and just anything to hide his groans from becoming loud. Closing your thighs around his erected, aching, and sensitive cock he almost choked out a moan. Letting go of your breast to slap your thigh in frustration, his tongue brushed against the inner part of your cheek and went down to rub your thighs this time in a more provocative manner.

With eyebrows scrunched on why you aren't reacting, he figured you were simply ignoring him because there was no way you didn't catch his cock between your thighs and the multiple gestures of his arousal for you. You weren't innocent either, that he was well aware of.

“Ignore me then, ill fuck myself between your thighs” he tested in anger, you still not making a sound and eyes closed as if you were in a meditative state. Rolling his eyes, he mouthed ‘fuck it’ and grabbed your hips to grind you down and around him, his cock still between your thighs as he slowly lifted his hip into you. Every deep thrust was met with a guttural groan, his voice full of raw desperation as he struggled to hold back his ever-loving want of pushing his cock deep in your cunt and just using it right then, right there for his selfish pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so god damn good baby,” he groans loudly, breath warm against your skin, shaky and ragged as his desire built stronger and his mind not caring about the volume of his need felt on your neck.

The warm water surrounded him, creating a sense of intimacy that seemed to heighten every touch. His cock, slick and hard, rested between your thighs, the movement of his body against your skin becoming almost too much to bear. With every small thrust, the water provided a slippery friction, making the sensation feel more intense, as though nothing but the connection between his shaft and your bare skin existed at that moment.

His breath came in shallow, desperate gasps, mixing with the soft splashes of water around them. He could only focus on your thighs pressing against him, the smoothness of your skin against his cock, driving him crazy with need. His hips moved of their own accord, each grind pushing him closer to the edge, yet still far enough away to build the tension that coursed through his body. Every time he moved, the water sloshed around them, making it impossible to keep the urgency of his desire hidden.

Her breath hitched in response, the way you softly shifted positions beneath him only turned him on more. He groaned, low and needy, the sound slipping out with every thrust as he pressed against her, lost in the heat of the water and the urge to edge his cock. His movements grew more frantic, teasing his senses as though the water, the proximity, and the raw need were driving him to the point of no return. But even as he felt himself nearing the edge, he stopped panting in your name and held the overwhelming urge to come undone like this. He didn't want to cum like this, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t fully deny that begging feeling of wanting to release himself more.

The water might have been soothing, but everything about this moment felt like fire, burning through his veins, igniting every nerve in his body as he lost himself in your warmth.

His breath came in quick, heavy pants, his voice rough and strained as he pressed against you, each word dripping with need.

With a cheeky smile, you get up and turn around to straddle him a swift movement of your hands to his cock as you slide him in. With an angered look of frustration, he holds one on hand your back and the other on your legs and lifts you onto the edge of the bathing rub and thrusts himself in with no warning.

“I can’t- I can’t stop,” he groaned, his hips grinding harder between thighs, urging you to move with him, something anything. Your teasing manner, so he hoped was driving him over the edge.

His grip is now on your waist as he towers over you with desire. With a lick of his lower lip, he bent down and placed his lips around your swollen hard nub, licking and pulling at it with force causing faint moans to escape your lips. Properly lining himself against your hips and, his now grip on your hips tightening, forcing himself against your skin

“you’re gonna take it… take all of it until I’m fucking done.” His voice was low, laced with a mixture of frustration and raw need.

“I’m not stopping until I finish. You wanted this… now you’re gonna take every inch-” jungkook pauses, hips snapping into yours roughly hearing you moan loudly.

“Every once of me, until I'm empty” he continues saying before his hips relentlessly crash into yours in anger, almost as if it was a punishment for denying him entrance, denying him without words, causing his cock to twitch ache, and beg at your hands for your sadistic pleasure.

Thrusting, teeth clenched together as groaned in frustration, each desperate sound escaping his throat as he moved faster, unable to hold back his craving as if he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. He didn't want to, he desperately wanted to feel his cock stretch your raw cunt just for his usage. He wanted to fuck himself between your thighs, your body being used like a toy for her gratification. Deserved so after teasing him, making him desperate for this moment.

Soon enough, he pinned you beneath him, his breath coming in harsh, desperate gasps as he hovered just on the edge of release, fighting to keep control. His cock was pressed against you, teasing, barely slipping in and out with slow, deliberate movements. Every inch felt like torture, the friction barely enough to calm the burning hunger inside him.

“I’m on the edge, I need to come so fucking bad,” he gritted, his voice raw, full of frustration.

‘I can’t… I can’t hold it back much longer.’ His hips moved slowly, teasing, pushing against you but never giving you enough, his body trembling with the effort to keep from losing control.

“I’m losing control… just a little more… fuck.” His breath was erratic now, the desire coursing through him so strongly that he could barely think, only focused on the edge of release that he was desperate to reach.

His breath grew erratic, and ragged as he moved above you, hips grinding against yours with increasing urgency. Each thrust was deeper, harder as if he couldn’t get close enough, the tension building in his body with every desperate movement. His hands gripped your waist tightly, his fingers digging into your skin, trying to hold on as the pleasure overwhelmed him.

“ fuck im close” he groaned, his voice thick with frustration, “I need you, fuck you’re gonna make me cum baby”

His hips snapped harder, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room, and all he could focus on was the heat between your legs, the way your body tightened around him, pushing him closer to the edge.

His movements grew frantic, the pressure inside him becoming unbearable, the need to release a pulsing ache he couldn’t fight anymore. He felt the wave of pleasure rising, his chest heaving with every shallow breath as his body trembled.

“Shit-” he cut himself off, his body moving in sharp, desperate thrusts. Then, with a heavy groan, he came inside you, his cock throbbing deep as he released, the force of it stealing his air to breathe. His body shuddered, unable to hold back, as he stayed buried inside, feeling every pulse of his climax wash over him. His moans, raw and low, were muffled by the sound of your pleasure, both of you consumed by the intensity of the moment.

Trembling from the hard release of pleasure, he breathed out intensely as he leaned over your fucked out state which only intensified the need he begged your body to help out with. With a shakey breath pulled out of you, his member still hard, throbing with his seed dripping down the shaft to his balls ever so slightly with the remnants of his release. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, sweat slicking his skin. With a low groan, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to your cheek with a desperate, almost frantic kiss, his breath hot against your skin.

“ still hard, still need your cunt baby. I can’t stop,” he murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion and desire, ‘I need more…’

Before you could even process it, his hips bucked again, this time pulling back just enough to thrust into you again, the force of his second release catching you both by surprise. He groaned loudly, his face contorting with intensity as he came deep inside you once more, a sharp, unexpected jolt of pleasure flooding through him. His hands gripped your sides, his body shaking as he stayed inside, the sensation almost overwhelming. Panting heavily, he pulled back slightly, looking at you with a dazed, lust-filled gaze, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “That… that was too much, but I needed you”

M.list

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circusgoth-dotcom · 1 year ago

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i got this "lakeside life" hand sanitizer from bath & bodyworks and it smells like what i imagine a nice hot bath at pamela's cabin would smell like :0)

#it does indeed smell like a lake but in a pleasant way and with a soapy undertone #very comforting and nostalgic tbh #🧸Mama Voorhees🧸#familial f/o #self shipping #self shipping community #circus honks #clown mush

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classyrbf · 3 months ago

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ᯓ★ YOU TURN ME ON! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...what turns the jjk men on? Don’t worry, I’m here to tell you!

INFO...jjk men (geto, gojo, nanami, toji, choso, higuruma, sukuna) x fem!reader, sexual and non sexual turn ons (kinda), whispering, eye contact, tight clothing, shower sex, p in v, hair pulling, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), pheromones (?), mention of glasses (sukuna), facial (sukuna), not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

GOJO

gojo loves when you whisper in his ear. Something about you being so close to him, feeling your breath on his skin just does something to him. He gets immediate chills up his body and a small little smirk on his face. It doesn’t even have to be sexual either, you could whisper the most basic shit and he’d be giggling like a school girl cause he just loves hearing your voice in that tone. Now, when it is sexual…that man will nut inside of you without warning. You’re moaning and whispering in his ear? He’s a goner, quite literally on another planet. Nibble on his ear a little and his eyes will roll back. Sometimes you’ll do it in purpose while you two are out in public and he gives you the biggest pout ever. “Baby, don’t do that to me c’mon,” he whines. He damn near dragged you to the car and fucked you in the backseat…

NANAMI

nanami loves eyes contact a little too much. Sometimes it’s intimidating because he’s such a stoic man and doesn’t show very much emotion in his face, so he will just stare at you. But overtime you’ve grown to be comfortable with making eye contact with him, just staring lovingly while he talks about work or whatever. He stares into your eyes so much that he can tell what you’re thinking and feeling. More specifically, he knows when you’re in the mood, the little glint in your eye while you smile at him, looking at him up and down like he’s a piece of meat. In that case, expect eye contact during sex! Nanami loves missionary just looking at you, forehead pressed against yours, and he can’t get over that pleading look, batting your pretty lashes at him while you moan his name. “Yes, right here, baby. Keep looking at me. There’s my girl,” he softly sighs.

TOJI

toji loves tight clothes (no surprise). He genuinely thinks you look good in anything, but something about seeing the outline of your body makes him a crazed man. He will nonstop be touching you, handing on your ass, waist, titties, thighs…he does not give a damn. You could be wearing your pajamas and he will still find you sexy. You bend over in something tight? He’s now hard and has to fix the problem, not that he minds. He bends you over right there on the couch with your shorts around your ankles. It’s date night? He’s excited because you’re gonna wear that new dress he bought you—the one that hugs your body so well, showing off all your curves. Wandering eyes follow your every movement while you get ready and be chews on his bottom lip while he thinks of everything he wants to do to you. “Yeah, doll, I don’t think we’ll be making it to dinner tonight,” he chuckles.

GETO

geto loves soapy titties. Now I know that’s like very specific…but I just see him getting turned on by soapy tits for some reason (I don’t make the rules). He doesn’t care what size they are, what they look like, just throw some soap and water on them bad boys and he’s a satisfied man. Bonus points if you send him an unexpected photo in the shower while he’s away. He almost drops his phone while waiting in line for food because he can’t believe his eyes—your perky nipples and soap cascading down your entire body. Expect shower sex…a lot of shower sex. He will go out of his way to help you wash up, trying to be all nice and polite but minutes later his hands are groping your chest and playing with your nipples, soap running between his fingers while he fucks you against the shower wall. “They look so pretty in my hands, baby. I love ‘em.” He lazily smiles.

CHOSO

choso loves when his hair gets pulled or when you play with his hair. He only discovered this when you were doing his hair and accidentally pulled it and to his surprise (and yours) he let out a small whimper. Now you go out of your way to tease him, tugging at his hair whenever you walk by, giggling when he huffs in annoyance. He likes laying on your chest and you just run your fingers through his hair, he immediately melts into your touch. Oh but Choso definitely likes it when you tug at his hair when he’s eating you out…why wouldn’t he? It makes him so hard when he feels your fingers entangle in his hair, pulling and tugging at it while you basically ride his face for your pleasure. You only tug harder when you get closer and closer to your orgasm and his dick is throbbing. “Yes, yes, pull on my hair, please, please,” he begs.

HIGURUMA

higuruma gets turned on when you smell good, whether it’s your natural smell or your perfume, conditioner, lotion, whatever you use. You’d walk by him one day in the kitchen, greeting him when came home from work and he stops in his tracks and sniffs the air a couple of times because you smell so good…??? Like really good to the point he just wants to devour you, hold you, do whatever to you. He’ll hold you close and just smell your hair, your skin, kissing you over and over while his hands roam your body. And if you wear a scent that evokes memories of you two, like a first date or something like that…he pounces on you like a tiger. “How do you smell so fucking good? God, I could just eat you up right now…would you let me?”

SUKUNA

sukuna loves glasses. Yes I said it. Modern sukuna more specifically cause yk…But he will see a woman with glasses and think about how cute her face looks, how smart she looks…the innocent thoughts at first, and then his evil, horny ass would think about what they would look like when he’s fucking you. He can never be wholesome. Will they fog up? Will you let him cum on them? Do you even keep them on? Will they break if he fucks you too hard? All questions that need to be answered. So yes, he eventually fucks a woman with glasses and god does he love it. He finds it adorable when you push up your glasses every ten seconds cause he’s pounding into you too hard. He loves it when you look over them while giving him head. And yes, they do fog up. “Gonna let me cum all over your face? Yeah..? No, no, keep them on for me,” he devilishly smirks, licking his lips.

taglist (comment to be added):

@valleydoli @zxnxy @screechingbasementprincess @lexluthorbutnotbald @lynxslokley @briyah0 @levisjinchuriki @maiiluvs @levizonlywife @xllizs @sm8th0p @waterfal-ling @bonneyzsk @ventila98

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clandestineloki · 1 year ago

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miguel o'hara x shy crybaby housewife!reader

cw: non-graphic mentions of violence, suggestive bit at the end lmk if u want an nsfw of this!!

ok but imagine shy lil missus o'hara who's a stay at home wife while miguel goes off to either alchemax or to fight some bad guys

and miguel comes home stressed all the time but just a touch of her hand on his shoulder grounds him after all that fighting

and miguel is tired but happy, grateful for his little love taking such good care of him :)) giving you a forehead kiss before he goes off to the bathroom, settling in the perfectly warm bath prepared for him before indulging in his little wife's amazing cooking

but one night when he comes home a little bit more tense than usual

she's very tense

she's heard him yelling at his subordinates over the phone and yelling at dumb-ass cops who get in the way of him stopping some thief

and while miguel has always been soft and kind and gentle with her, she's scared that she'll accidentally do something wrong :((

so miguel walks past her, exhausted, and almost smiles at the smell of dinner

no forehead kiss for her :(( poor baby

sitting at the dining table head in his hands as he mumbles about not getting the chance to grab a snack, let alone a break in spanish

and she knows he's hungry, but she knows his whole body will be aching if he doesn't take a bath to regulate his body temperature

but poor baby doesn't know how to say it without him possibly snapping at her :((

she's standing on the other side of the table nervously fidgeting with the dish towel and finding the right words to say

"y-you... you gotta t-take a bath f-first..."

miguel sighs into his hands. "i know, but im really hungry, cariño..."

"b-but... if you don't... you'll be s-sore..."

he looks up, brows furrowing. "what?"

he was genuinely confused why you seemed so scared of him, but his voice came out a bit more bluntly than he meant it to.

your eyes widen and you look down. "n-nothing," you mumble, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. "sorry."

"hey, hey, baby..." miguel stands up, walking over to you and pulling you into his arms. "what's wrong? did i say something?"

"no..." you sniffle, "jus thought i made you mad..."

"no, no, no, i'm not mad," he kisses all over u: your teary eyes, your wobbling lips, your forehead, the tip of ur nose

miguel kisses you deeply and then hugs you close to him. "im not mad, i promise. i'm just so so tired and hungry and the food smelled so good i'm gonna die if i don't get to taste it," he whispers, laughing when you giggle at his declaration.

"the bath can wait," he caresses your cheek with his hand.

"b-but you're gonna get cramps tomorrow if-"

he cuts you off with a big smooch to your face. "it doesn't matter. im staying home tomorrow."

"wh-what?!" you look up at him as he sits down, pulling you into his lap. "but you have work- and- and you're spiderman- and-"

he shakes his head, running his fingers through your hair.

"i'm your husband first, and all that other shit second."

miguel sighs, pulling you closer.

"i know i haven't been taking care of you the way i should be."

before you can interject about how he's doing so much already, he presses a finger against your lips.

"ssh. and alchemax and the cops don't really give a shit about me, can probably last every other day without me there. they'd probably have a field day without this jackass there," he chuckles. "but you, baby, i need to return the favor- ah, ah! let me finish, gatita- return the favor for keeping this place a safe space for me."

a kiss here, a kiss there. "entiendes?"

you nod, hugging him. "just glad you're home," you mumble, nuzzling into his neck.

he spends the rest of that hour enjoying the food you made for him while also feeding you and rattling all about the thugs he stopped that day.

then he pulls you into the bath with him, despite your protests, and laughs as he splashes you with the soapy water, making you squeal and threaten to spray him with the shower nozzle

then the two of you dry up and snuggle in bed, not bothering to put on any clothes. miguel smiles down at you and you smile up at him, before he rolls you on your back and crawls over you to make the sweetest yet roughest love to show you just how thankful he is for having a sweet lil thing like u to come home to <3

(part 2 is here~)

#astv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #soft dom miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara fluff

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hyunsvngs · 1 year ago

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𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚! - stepdad!bang chan x fem!reader

wc: 10.2k

cw: chan is your mother's boyfriend and you want to fuck him, chan is 30 and reader is described to be younger & in college, lix is a menace, changbin is a moral compass, you do not care about morals, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: you're home for the holidays, and your mother - who you can't stand - has a new, young, hot boyfriend. it's such a good idea trying to seduce him.. right?

a/n: it's so here <3 my first commission! i hope u all love it <3 smut warnings under the cut ofc. i also tried a new format with this fic so pls let me know what u think?!?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: dirty talk, breeding kink, mutual masturbation, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampies, degradation, cumplay if u squint?, humiliation if u squint?, anal fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), edging maybe briefly, sex with feelings

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You hated going home for the holidays.

You were a rich kid, to put it simply. Your mother loved to leech off the men that she was with, marrying them quickly and trying to suck as much money as she could out of them in gifts and straight up cash before they eventually clued on and left her. It had been why your father had left when you were a mere infant, but you’d always lived in luxury due to the incessant payments that he was forced to give. You’d never met him, but there was a plus side - he was paying your college tuition, where you met your best friends.

Perhaps if you thought about it a bit more you’d realise that the only reason you went to college was to get away from your mother. She pissed you off, sauntering around the house in silk kimonos with a maid trailing behind her, pausing to look in mirrors so that she could choose where her next round of botox would hit. She frustrated you beyond belief, but you still had to go home for Christmas. Annoyingly early, too, because she had a surprise for you.

Okay, well, it wasn’t a surprise. She’d FaceTimed you a week earlier, an irritatingly wrinkle-free face popping up on the screen as she sipped mulled wine and revelled in your absence. She had a new boyfriend, she said. You’d love him, she said. Your opinion matters most to me, she said. The last one you knew to be a lie. God, you hated her.

Still, you lugged your suitcase through the front door and huffed, booting the side with your foot to try and shake some of the snow off. No surprise, she hadn’t helped you in from your taxi. She hadn’t even come to get you from the airport a mere twenty minute drive away. You dropped the suitcase on the floor, giving it another kick just for good measure, and then you were trudging into the kitchen. You’d heard voices from there, so it had to be them.

“Oh, honey!” Your mother chirped upon seeing you. You couldn’t see the face of the man washing dishes behind her, his white shirt sleeves rolled up and back facing you. You didn’t care anyway. “You made it home safe, then.”

“Yeah. The taxi driver was super nice and let me call him mum,” You quipped. She furrowed her eyebrows, lips pursed.

“Okay, you’re being weird already,” She mumbled, and then shook her head, shrugging it off. She walked to the man by the sink, spinning him around by his slender waist to display him to you. “This is Chan!”

You felt silly, stood in the kitchen doorway in oversized clothes and covered in ivory snow. The man’s eyes found you, shocked by your mother’s harsh manoeuvring, and he blinked with surprise at your figure. You blinked with surprise, too.

Chan was hot. Incredibly so, actually, and he looked young. Younger than your mother, with a big nose you wanted to ride and plush lips parting as he raised one hand to wave at you, still wet with soapy dishwasher. You wanted to lick him clean. The white shirt he wore stretched across broad shoulders, and the sleeves were fit to burst around incredibly toned biceps. You allowed your gaze to wander down, eyes focusing on the thick thighs in the black dress trousers he wore.

There was no way this was real. “Okay,” You burst out laughing, eyes darting between Chan and your mother. “And, who is Chan? A friend? A colleague? He’s not your boyfriend.”

Chan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No, I am. I’m your mother’s boyfriend, sweetheart.”

His voice was deep - too deep, deep enough to haunt your dreams and those late night sessions you had in your bed with your trusty vibrator. This was going to be trouble. You were going to be trouble.

“You’re shitting me,” You couldn’t get the amused smile off of your face. No fucking way. Your mother hadn’t bagged that. “You’re fucking with me. You have to be. Mum, he’s closer to my age than he is to yours.”

“I’m thirty, actually,” He mumbled, looking sheepish. Your mother stared at you in shock, jaw dropped at your brazenness.

“I rest my case,” You concluded, nodding decisively. When the two of them just continued to stare, you bristled slightly, starting to hop from one foot to the other. Awkward. “You… are you actually together?”

“Yes, honey,” Your mother confirmed, still looking shocked. You scoffed.

“Okay, I really need to go, actually,” You gushed, turning around to leave the kitchen. “I’m- I’m going to my room. Really nice to meet you, Chan, really.”

Shooting upstairs, you completely ignored your suitcase still leaking snow all over the hardwood floors and darted into your bedroom. It still looked exactly how you’d left it, band posters all over the walls and teddies littering the end of your bed. You threw yourself on top of the mattress, fingers yanking your phone out of your pocket and clicking the button on the most recent group call on FaceTime. Immediately, your college best friends picked up.

“There’s already a problem?” Felix scrunched his nose up, face way too close to the camera. Changbin was on the other side, face looking confused in the little square designated to him on your phone screen.

“I just met my mother’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, right, how did that go?” Changbin questioned, tilting his head to the side. You caught sight of your face in your own little square, flushed and appalled.

“He is thirty years of age, Changbin,” You began. Felix gasped, tiny hand moving to cover his mouth. “He is thirty years of age, and he is really fucking hot.”

“Oh my god,” Felix mumbled, muffled behind his hand. “Oh my god, you have to fuck him.”

Changbin choked on air. “She has to- No, Felix, no!”

“No, I can’t do that. It would be fucked up,” You mused. Or.. “Wait, would it even be that fucked up? He is closer to my age. I hate my mother.”

Felix’s hand fell, and he giggled before speaking in his trademark goblin voice - “Fuck him.”

“Don’t!” Changbin shrieked, his phone shaking in his hand. “I really think this is a bad idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Felix grinned, looking smug. “I’d do it.”

“There’s not a lot you wouldn’t do,” Changbin retorted. Felix stuck his tongue out at him. You, however, were silent, musing on the situation and staring at your wall. Could you do it? Changbin noticed, sighing. “Baby, please no.”

You licked your lips, nodding. You could do it. You wanted to do it - needed it, even. Those biceps were going to plague your life forever otherwise. “Operation fuck my mother’s boyfriend is a go.”

Felix screamed in delight. Changbin ended the call.

SATURDAY

It was time. Your mother was out at brunch with some friends, and you had plans to invade Chan’s personal space because you had a feeling he’d be too polite to tell you otherwise. You knew he’d set up the spare room as his own home studio, because your mother had delighted in telling you how Chan was a super successful music producer and was often tinkering away in there these days. You were going to let yourself in, try to get to know him a bit.

The knock you landed on the door was anything but subtle. Your fist rapped on the door and you heard a little hum in response, so you swung open the door, eyes landing on Chan hunched over his desk. He looked even younger like this, beanie pulled down over dark curls and headphones positioned on his head. He continued to stare at the file on his computer, head bobbing absentmindedly, so you strode up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around on his computer chair, blinking confusedly at you. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” You beamed. “Sorry about last night. I was rude. I was feeling kinda weird, y’know, with the travelling.”

“No, I completely get it,” Chan put his hands up as if to diffuse the atmosphere. You nodded, still smiling. Chan stared at you when you didn’t respond instantly, and you crossed your hands behind your back, pressing against the plaid pattern of the dress you’d chosen for today. It was all part of the plan - the tight, short dress was perfect for seduction. He looked down at your chest, before clearing his throat, reverting his gaze to your eyes. “Um… did you need something, by the way?”

You gasped, as if remembering. “Oh, yeah! I did. My mother told me you were a music producer, and I was really curious. I was wondering if you’d show me some stuff…?”

It was Chan’s turn to smile, nodding excitedly. “Of course. Here, put these on.”

He linked two fingers around his headphones and handed them to you, to which you obediently put them over your ears. He was quieter now, but you could still slightly hear him mumbling as he found a spare chair for you to sit on. Your eyes scanned the files, eventually fixating on a file titled Drive. That one had to be dirty.

“Okay, so. I have this one, it’s my most recent one, and-”

“I want to listen to that one,” You cut him off, pointing at the song. When you turned to look at him, he was biting his lip nervously, pink tinting the ends of his ears and his cheeks. “What is it, Chan?”

“You- that one is a little, uh… heh. A little inappropriate.”

Unsurprisingly, you darted over his desk to grab the computer mouse and double click on the file. Chan squealed, but you ignored him, listening to the song. You were right. It was dirty, the two singers crooning about something that was a thinly-veiled innuendo about driving. It took you a second and then you clicked. One of them was Chan. This was Chan singing, on a song about sex. God, could he get any hotter?

You slid one of the ear cups off of your ear, turning to Chan with a shit eating grin. “This is you singing? You’re really good, Chan.” You weren’t lying. He was really good, and it had you wondering why he was a producer and not singing.

“Yeah, well, it was just an experimental track. Me and my mate were just messing around,” Chan mumbled shyly, hand scratching the back of his neck. You tried to avoid staring at the way his biceps tensed in his tight t-shirt at the movement. He was still blushing, but you had to kick it up a notch.

“It is kinda inappropriate, though, isn’t it?” You chirped excitedly. Chan’s lips parted, as if he was looking for something to say. His eyes stared into your own, piercing and dark and all-consuming. “I think you’re a little dirty, Channie.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed at your use of the nickname. “That’s- you can’t say that. That’s inappropriate.”

“What?” You feigned shock-horror. Play dumb. “I can’t call you Channie? Why not?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Chan groaned, pointing an accusing finger at you. You giggled anyway, jumping up and slipping the headphones back onto his head. You made sure to trail your fingertips down his neck after doing so. He shivered noticeably. You smiled.

“That was super good, Channie, thank you.”

You didn’t miss his groan of disbelief as you bounded out of the room. You had him, and it was easier than you’d expected it to be.

SUNDAY

Something was happening. You weren’t sure what, just yet, but something was happening. Chan was acting a little weird after what happened the day before, and you’d already caught Felix and Changbin up on the nonsense plan you had.

“I think you need to accept that this is just down to you having a fat crush on him and severe daddy issues,” Changbin mused, and you gasped. He was right though. This wasn’t completely about getting back at your mother in a sick, twisted way. You wanted him.

Phase two of your plan was underway as soon as you caught sight of him on the sofa. He was watching some cheesy Christmas movie, your mother tinkering away in the kitchen - when had she ever cooked? - so it was prime seducing time. He had one of the thick throw blankets over his lap, fingers playing with the fluffy fabric absentmindedly. You hopped into the living room in your short pyjamas, frowning at Chan when you felt the goosebumps on your legs.

“Whatcha watching?” You asked, making him jump when he realised your presence. He smiled nonetheless, motioning to the seat next to him, and you took it. You perched and ensured that you left no room between you both.

“Some cheesy film. The woman’s marrying a prince, I think.”

“Sounds awful. I can’t wait to watch it,” You smiled, and Chan chuckled, relaxing on the sofa. You managed to make it five whole minutes before you were rubbing your hands up your legs, trying to create a semblance of warmth.

Chan turned to you, frowning. “Are you cold, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” You whined, pulling your legs up into your chest. “‘S cold in here, right?”

“C’mere,” He mumbled, reaching for the end of the blanket and throwing it over your lap. You hummed contentedly, inching a little closer under the guise of the cold weather. The blanket was warm. You were kind of jealous he’d been in such comfort this whole time while you’d been thinking of ways to get his cock inside your mouth.

“Thanks, Channie,” Chan only nodded, continuing to watch the film. You had a feeling he was pretending to be so focused on it, given you weren’t sure he even knew the plot before your arrival.

You squirmed on your seat, thrashing each way until you found yourself comfortable, hand splayed over Chan’s knee. He tensed under your touch.

“You’re touching me, sweetheart,” He warned, his voice low and deep. You shivered, turning to him.

“Am I?”

“You are. You’re touching my leg underneath the blanket, aren’t you?”

You hummed. “Is that okay, Chan?”

Chan turned to you, his eyes not even holding any sign of shock. He knew what game you were playing, you realised, and maybe he was playing along. He licked his lips, head back against the sofa, and then he shrugged dismissively.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

You left your hand there for the whole film.

MONDAY

The showers at home were something you’d missed. The ones in college didn’t quite cut it - not even now that you lived with Changbin and Felix in your own student home. All three of you were young adults, after all, and that came with you being a little too messy.

At home, you didn’t have to worry about mess. Your mother had cleaners employed with your dad’s money anyway. Admittedly, you realised you were being a little spoiled, so you’d learned to clean up after yourself. The showers were still better, though. Bigger, and the water pressure hit you just right.

Especially when you detached the shower head and pressed it to your clit. You felt pathetic. You’d only tried to seduce Chan for two fucking days, and there you were, legs shaking at the thought of him. Maybe it was the chase that got you feeling hot, or maybe it was the fact that you might actually be getting somewhere - you might actually be getting close to fucking him, muscles bulging as he ploughed into you.

It had you pressing the shower head harder, your spare hand coming up to pinch your nipple. You whined, bucking your hips into the water stream. The steam was all over the bathroom by now, staining the shower with condensation and making your skin feel pruned and flushed. Or did you feel flushed from the thoughts of Chan? Maybe he’d fuck you the way you liked. He must have experience, you assumed, being a few years older than you. You thought about how he’d make you feel, how he’d touch you, and how you’d feel in his arms. You thought about how you’d feel when you came, and what it would be like to be with him. You wanted to feel him so badly.

Was he as big down there as he was everywhere else? Sure, he’s not too tall, but he’s every part a man. That much was clear. Would he bend you in half, pushing you into a mating press and fuck you raw the way you liked, cumming inside and letting you call him daddy and-

You wailed, legs trembling with one last buckle before you were cumming. You felt wet, too wet even just from the shower, and you belatedly realised you’d have to wash again. Ugh. This plan needed to end, like… yesterday.

Coming out of the shower freshly washed, you wrapped a towel around your figure and checked the time on your phone. Your thumb slipped around the screen from the condensation in the bathroom, but the plan was going well. If you left the bathroom now, then hopefully Chan would be heading to bed, and he’d catch you in your towel. Ideally, he’d be so hot for you that he’d just have to have you, and then you could get the thoughts of him out of your head.

You burst out of the room in a flurry of steam and movement, almost tripping over your own feet when you noticed that it had actually fucking worked. Chan stood stock still at the other end of the hallway, his eyes fixated on the way the towel wrapped tightly around your chest, at risk of falling. You smiled, waving innocently, and he stalked towards you. He was seeing red. You could tell from the way he cornered you, crowding around you with the small advantage he had on your height.

“You need to stop this,” He mumbled, eyes looking at your mother’s bedroom door. He was playing a dangerous game. You were, too, and you both knew it. “I’m dating your mother. You need to stop this, sweetheart.”

“Stop what?” You tilted your head, acting confused. “I just had a shower.”

Chan scoffed, shaking his head. “I fucking heard you in there.”

Oh. You couldn’t hide your smirk that time. “Yeah, I missed that shower head. Why were you perving on me, Chan?”

Chan rubbed his temples. He wasn’t wearing a beanie today, only a hoodie and baggy joggers. You liked it. You could see his hair like this, dark and curly and frizzy on his head. He looked cute. Wait, what?

He took a deep breath. His eyes moved to fixate on you, tongue running over his teeth. “Why would I be perving on you?”

“Oh, don’t lie,” You crossed your arms over your chest. Chan’s eyes moved down to stare at where your tits bulged over the towel. “I bet you stood there for ages, cock hard in your cute joggers, listening to me moan in the shower. That’s a little fucked up, no? Thinking about your girlfriend’s daughter like that-”

You were cut off by him pushing you to the wall, lips slamming into yours. He bit into your mouth instantly, letting out a deep groan and hands moving to grab your ass through the towel. You let your lips part in a whimper, pushing your tongue into his mouth and running your hands through his hair. It was a filthy exchange of tongue and teeth, and by the end of it, you were gasping, grabbing him by the waist and trying to pull him closer. You pulled away, breathing heavily and your eyes still locked on each other. You both stood there, not speaking, as you both processed what you had just done. You both knew it was wrong, but you wanted it so bad.

Chan stepped back, breathing out a heavy sigh. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You watched in shock as he turned around, walking into your mother’s bedroom and leaving you there. You were wet again. This was getting ridiculous now.

In your room, Felix screamed so loud you had to turn the volume down on your phone. Changbin choked on air again.

TUESDAY

You hadn’t seen Chan all day. You presumed he was in his studio, working away on another track while your mother was in work. You were bored. Felix had been spending time with his family, and Changbin was out doing rich kid things that you could sympathise with. Thrashing around on your bed, annoyed and huffing, you decided you were just going to go and annoy Chan. It was your newly favourite pastime to get under his skin.

Stalking down the stairs to his studio, you paused when you heard a voice. Not just one voice, two voices. Was your mother there? No, no way. She never goes into that room, it’s his work room. You’d been in there though. You tried to suppress a grin at that realisation.

The other voice was a man’s. Chan had a call on speakerphone, judging by the tinny effect covering the unknown male’s voice and Chan humming every so often. Who was the other man? A colleague, or just a friend?

“It’s fucking ridiculous, mate,” Chan groaned. You could barely hear him, and you held your breath, coming closer to the closed door. “I want her so bad, and it’s so wrong. I- I kissed her last night, Minho.”

There were a few yells from the other end of the phone. “You kissed her?! Chan, you fucking animal. You want her so bad, just fuck her. She’s clearly hoping that’s the outcome here.”

You grinned. You were.

“She’s- it’s outrageous. She walks around in practically nothing, and she’s got such a tight fucking body, man. She makes my dick so fucking hard, I’ve never felt anything like it before. Even when I met her, in the kitchen, she was-”

Chan cut himself off with a sigh. ‘Minho’ hummed, waiting for him to continue.

“She’s so bratty. She’s exactly the type of girl I would’ve gone for, before I met her mother.”

“Seriously?” Minho questioned, and Chan agreed. “You have to do it.”

“Minho-”

“No, Chan. I’m serious,” Minho’s voice was firm. “If she’s fucking you up this bad, you can’t have liked her mother that much, yeah? Just do it. You know it’s going to happen anyway.”

“It’s-” Chan began. You could imagine him rubbing his temples in distress behind the door. “She’s younger than me. I don’t want her to feel as though I’m taking advantage, y’know? The ball’s in her court.”

The ball has always been in your court.

“It sounds like she wants you to take advantage, to be honest,” Minho erupted in a fit of giggles, and you found yourself almost laughing along. Minho was annoyingly right. You only hoped he could get rid of that stick up Chan’s ass and get you a good dicking down.

It meant it was time for the next phase of your plan. You assumed Chan had wanted you, embarrassingly so, but you weren’t quite sure until he’d kissed you the day before. After hearing this conversation? Well, you had to do it.

You returned to your room, scribbling a quick note on a piece of paper. If Chan found this, which he would, it meant that he’d come to your room tomorrow night and you could maybe talk about what the fuck was going on. The sexual tension was too much for you, and now you knew he felt the same. Why were you beating around the bush? You had to make something out of this.

You ignored the stuttering of breath you heard when you slid the note under his door, and returned back to your room with a cocky grin.

WEDNESDAY

Chan hadn’t mentioned the note. You didn’t think he would, but you felt disappointed nonetheless. You’d woken up in the morning, eaten breakfast with him and your mother - cringing when he kissed her on the cheek when she left for work - and you’d even done the dishes yourself, letting him slip off to do some work in the studio. It was prime time for him to mention what you’d written, and he hadn’t. It was pissing you off.

Still, good things come to those who wait. You were confident. Felix had been egging you on all day over text, Changbin had been sending random upset emojis. It was perfect.

Settling on your sheets at night, you felt a little pathetic. You’d lit a few candles, left the curtains just right on the window so that the moonlight billowed in, and Chan hadn’t arrived. Maybe he hadn’t received your note. No, there was no way - you practically heard his response through the door when he saw it slid under. He got the note. Perhaps you’d made him uncomfortable, made him withdraw from you despite all the progress you’d made. Why had you put in so much effort? You didn’t like him, not like that. Or did you? You felt ridiculous, almost like a child waiting for-

A knock on the door brought you out of your self-loathing thoughts, and you jumped up, swinging the bedroom door open. Chan immediately crowded inside of your bedroom, pressing the door shut softly. You stood there in silence, taking him in. He looked cosy, in a baggy hoodie and plaid pyjama bottoms. It was hard to believe he was dating your mother, especially when he looked so vulnerable like this - dark, curly hair still slightly wet from his shower, and his eyes blown wide with an unreadable emotion while he looked at you.

Chan sighed. “You’re really playing with fire. Do you know how this could look, me coming into your room at night? Do you know how wrong this is?”

You faltered. For the first time since meeting Chan, you felt as though he was angry at you. “I- I heard you on the phone, Channie. I thought you wanted me too.”

You watched in awe as Chan crossed your bedroom, groaning and throwing himself onto the bed. He was hard, erect in his bottoms. You blinked confusedly. He was hard just from being in here?

“I do want you,” Chan said, but it was muffled, hidden behind his hands that he had placed over his face in distress. He let them fall to his sides, staring up at the ceiling. “I want you so bad that it’s pissing me off beyond belief. I know what you’ve been doing too, trying to seduce me. It’s so pathetic it makes me feel hot, y’know?”

You giggled, following his journey across the room and settling next to him on the bed. You sat cross legged, comfortable in your long pyjamas. The candlelight flickered, casting a glow over his face, and he turned to look at you. He licked his lips, and then he let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This is ridiculous-”

“It’s ridiculous that you haven’t fucked me yet,” You responded, quick as a flash. Chan leaned up on his forearms, raising an eyebrow at you. Now was the time. You had to say it. “You know how bad I want you. I touched you up on the sofa, and you let me. You wanted me to, I think. Correct me if I’m wrong, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but-”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, and you’re not wrong,” Chan admitted. You could see the blush on his cheeks despite the dimly lit room. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I want you, too.”

Chan shot across the bed, leaning in and kissing you deeply, his hands tangling in your hair. It made you wet beyond belief that he just felt like he knew what he was doing, hands travelling down to your waist to softly press you into the sheets. His tongue swept into your mouth, pressing against yours and you whimpered, making him groan into the kiss. When his hands went up to your hair, he intertwined his fingers in the strands and pulled, making you gasp and let out a heady, hot breath. He pulled away, lips parted when he stared at you.

“You are such a horny little thing, it’s so hot,” He mumbled, lips pressing to your neck. He bit your skin sharply, making you keen and spread your legs, allowing him to position his hips between your thighs. The movement pressed his bulge into your core, and you tried not to shift and move your hips in a rhythm of pleasure. His fingers traced over your skin, and he chuckled, a low, sexy sound that made your heart race. He pulled back, leaning back on his legs and staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust. “I want to see you touch yourself.”

You paused. “What?”

“I want to know what you like. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow night. How’s that sound?” He was propositioning you, teasing you, and you were falling for it - hook, line and sinker.

You gave him a nod. Right. Touching yourself for him - that was something you could do. This was just another Wednesday for you, you loved putting on a show, especially for a man who was rock hard and obviously desperate for you. But with Chan… why did you feel so fucking nervous all of a sudden? You'd spent your whole day waiting to fuck him, and he’d taken back the power, thrown a wrench into your plans.

You leaned back on your bed. How did you sit sexily? You were stuck in your own head.

Chan moved backwards, hand moving over his clothed erection. He’d spread his legs, thick thighs parted for you to see the promising bulge between them. "Pretend I'm not even here, sweetheart," he said, eyes blown wide with lust. You almost rolled your eyes. Easier said than done, when he was sitting there with his dark curls and his thick, kissable lips and his impossibly huge bulge. “Touch yourself like you’ve done before. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow, I promise.”

Fuck it. You'd never let an attractive man break you down yet, and that wasn't going to change. You nodded timidly, hands moving to grip your breasts through your shirt. It made you sigh, and Chan responded with a noise of his own when you impatiently rucked the fabric up to above your chest. Sucking two fingers into your mouth, you whined when you traced the wet digits around your pebbled peak teasingly.

“Ah, ‘s- I’m sensitive there, Channie,” You mumbled, and he nodded as if he was making a note for it for later. You trailed your fingertips across your nipples, pinching and twisting them almost painfully just to make your hips cant up into thin air. You were too impatient to do this how you normally would, so you scratched your fingernails down your tummy and shoved a hand in your pyjama bottoms. You were met with slick, wet folds, fingers sliding around in the mess you made.

“Show me,” Chan said, eyes trained on where your hand disappeared beneath the fabric. “Show me that pussy. You’re meant to be showing me everything, remember?”

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” You huffed, and Chan shook his head in disbelief, grinning. You were shocked to see he actually listened, though, pushing his joggers down to his thighs and letting his erection spring out. It was impossibly hard, pearlescent drops accumulating on his cockhead and you licked your lips subconsciously. “I wanna-”

“No,” Chan cut you off, hand moving to wrap around his cock in a tight fist. He was long, thick and heavy between his thighs and you felt your pussy clench sadly around nothing. “Show me your pussy. I’m not asking again, let me take a look at it.”

You whined, pushing your pyjama bottoms down to reveal your slick core. Your clit was swollen, throbbing with need just from a few kisses and Chan’s general presence, and you could feel a rivulet of wetness sliding down between your lips. Chan groaned in approval, hand quickening on his cock just slightly.

“Spread it, show me your hole,” Chan said, and you moved your thighs further apart for him. Reaching down with two fingers, you moved them into a v-shape and spread your folds for him. Your hole quivered under the inspection, leaking more wetness and Chan’s eyes were hyper fixated on it. “Oh, baby. That looks tight. Has no one ever fucked that little pussy right, huh? Tell me.”

“N-No,” You shook your head, thighs quivering when you finally let two fingers rub over your clit. You started with a blistering pace immediately, making your toes curl into the sheets and your back arch upwards. “No, I- it’s only boys from college, I don’t-”

“Ah, I see. You need someone older, yeah? More experienced?” Chan questioned, his breath coming out heavy with every tightly fisted movement on his cock. You whined, nodding, and then you were breaching your hole with two fingers immediately. The stretch made you groan, head falling back against the pillow. “Is that why you tried to seduce me, yeah? Wanted to have my cock stretching you out just right, wanted to call me daddy while I made you cry?”

God, he’d got it. He was right on the mark. “Yes, y-yes, I- I wanted to, oh, I wanted to call you daddy, and- and feel you inside me, and oh, Channie, please-” You cut yourself off with a moan, perhaps too loud as you curled your fingertips up against your g-spot. Chan threw his head back, letting out a grunt as he pinched his cockhead almost painfully.

“Say it then, baby. What’s stopping you?” He polished the head of his cock, moaning before he took it into his tight grip again. His precum served as lubrication, his hand now making wet slick sounds on his thick length. You gasped when he moved his free hand to his balls, rubbing calloused fingertips over them and letting out his own gasp. “Beg me for my cock. I know you want it, look at you. Fuckin’ desperate, yeah? Beg daddy for his big cock.”

“Oh, daddy,” You whined, moving your free hand to rub over your clit. Everything was so wet, sliding around your pussy and you were honestly surprised you could feel anything - but it felt so fucking good, having him watch you like this, learning what you liked so he could replicate it. “Fuckin’- daddy, daddy, please, can I have it? Been good, doin’ what you asked, I- hnnng, daddy, oh my god-”

“No,” He smiled, a cocky grin while he rubbed one hand over his cock and the other over his heavy balls. “No, baby. Not tonight. Make yourself cum tonight, and daddy will help you tomorrow.”

“I- need more, need more, I-'' Chan surged over the bed, leaning over your figure to press his lips against yours. His tongue dominated your mouth again, and you could feel his closed fist hitting your stomach as he worked himself to his orgasm. The sensation had you whining against his plush lips, fingers thrusting quicker into your pussy and your other hand sliding around your clit messily. When he pulled away, lips digging into your bottom lip teasingly, his lips were quick to move to your neck to suck some dark purple marks into the skin. You felt yourself trembling, your body tense as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Your fingers stroked your walls faster, pussy fluttering around your digits in delight, and your mouth opened in a gasp as you felt your body tense and tremble with pleasure. “I’m g’na- g’na cum, gonna cum, please, can I? Can I, daddy? Can I cum for you, please?”

“Yeah, baby,” He huffed, eyes rolling back into his head. He was practically drooling onto your skin, lips parted against your neck as you whined and thrashed on your bedsheets. “Cum for me. Been good for daddy, haven’t you? You can cum, baby, c’mon. Show me how pretty you are when you cum.”

You fell apart around your own fingers, your orgasm crashing through you like a wave. Your thighs tensed with your orgasm, your pussy clenching down impossibly tighter around your hand and flooding down to your knuckles with your cum. You begged and pleaded, your voice a barely audible babble as your body shook with the sensation.

Finally, when you’d just felt like you were coming down, Chan pulled your wrist away from your pussy. The movement left you empty, your walls still clenching down except now it was around nothing, and you whined, bottom lip quivering in need.

“Hands off,” He sighed, hand slowing down on his cock. He was trying to last longer for something - you weren’t sure what, but you let your other hand drop from your clit obediently. “Daddy’s gonna cum on this wet little hole, baby, okay? You gonna let me cum here, mark you as mine?”

“Yes,” You moaned, nodding. You couldn’t think of anything better, actually. “‘M yours, I’m yours, daddy, gimme.”

“Dirty thing, perfect little girl,” He grunted, and then he was positioning his cockhead at your hole. With a few more movements, increasing in speed, you watched as his face screwed up in pleasure. His hips bucked, and with a final thrust, he came. You felt his cum drip down your hole as he groaned through his orgasm, thick white cum plastering your pussy. It was definitely the sexiest thing you’d experienced, but you still felt a little disappointed - why couldn’t he have just done it inside you?

“Wan’it,” You whined, pulling your legs back. Chan chuckled upon seeing the pout on your lips. “Why couldn’t you- in me, wanted it in me, daddy.”

“Greedy bitch,” He mused, and then he was delving down to your core. Your mind went blank when his tongue licked fat stripes up your folds, collecting all of his cum and your wetness in his mouth. You briefly thought you could cum from this, very quickly judging by the way he knew what he was doing, but he simply leaned over you and grabbed your jaw.

Oh. You let your lips part, tongue lolling out of your mouth obediently, and he spat the mixture of your cum into your mouth. You felt him lick into your mouth again, groaning at the taste of your pussy and his load. He smiled against your lips and pulled away, your eyes wide as you tried to process what had just happened.

Chan’s lips curved in satisfaction at your state, your chest still heaving with a blotchy rash that bore the truth of what you’d been up to. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and then he was standing up and leaving the room, bottoms barely pulled over his hips. You laid there, feeling an intense mix of pleasure and confusion.

What the fuck just happened?

THURSDAY

You hadn’t even processed what had happened last night. In all honesty, you’d run out of the house in the morning under the premise of a coffee date with friends you didn’t even have. You just sat in the cafe on call with Changbin and Felix and screamed way too loudly for a public area. The whole cafe knew of your predicament by the end of it.

Upon your return home, you’d beelined to your room and kicked the door shut as quietly as you could. Unfortunately, your foot slipped on the floor and you’d ended up face down with a groan.

Turning over onto your back, you huffed at the offending item that had caused your decline to the ground. A piece of paper met your eyes, neatly folded and written on with what looked like black Sharpie when you’d finally unravelled it.

Three words. Three words that changed your life and let you know that what occurred the night before had really happened. No, not ‘I love you’ - it was simple, a scrawled ‘your room, tonight’. It did happen. You touched yourself in front of Chan, and he was planning on coming back to your room to continue what you’d discussed.

You wanted to squeal and kick your feet, but beneath it all, you felt panicked. This plan had gone too far, and you’d perhaps started to think about spending time with your mother’s boyfriend - actual time, not just sexually charged meetings. It hurt a little bit, a pang in your chest when you remembered that what was happening really was just sexual. Your little arrangement being anything else just wasn’t fathomable.

Chan was interesting. He was a fucking music producer, for god’s sake. That was just straight up cool. That, and he was older than you - you did have raging daddy issues like your friends had said, after all. His friend had sounded funny on the phone, which meant he had to be funny, too.

All things serious, you didn’t really know much about him, but you wanted to know. Felix had encouraged you to find out, and you felt like you owed it to him - or yourself, you weren’t sure.

The knock on your door once the evening fell brought you out of your reverie. Chan didn’t wait for a response, swinging your bedroom door open and walking straight in as if he owned the house. You huffed at his demeanour, yet your eyes were still fixated on the way he walked over to your bed with intent. You threw your phone to the side. Felix would have to wait for your half-typed text message.

“Back again so soon?” You quipped, and he raised an eyebrow. He was only in grey joggers, the thin material highlighting his thick dick imprint between his legs. The fabric hung low, showing off the body that you knew he worked so hard for. His chest was honey toned, yet covered in light, sparse freckles - you wanted to make yourself acquainted with every single one. You felt a little overdressed in just an oversized t-shirt and shorts.

Seeing the frustrated expression on your face, Chan’s own face fell. “Do you not want me here?” He said, voice no more than a whisper. “I can go, if you don’t want to see me tonight. I just thought-”

“I do,” You nodded, finally raising yourself from your position lying down to sitting up cross legged. Chan laid on the bed in front of you, one arm propping his head up. He gazed at you for a few moments, and you could see the relief in his eyes at your words. “I do want to see you tonight. I want to see you like… a lot. Don’t you think it’s weird though? I’m your girlfriend’s daughter, Chan, and we’ve kissed and- and done other stuff, and-”

He scooted over so that he was next to you, and you leaned into him subconsciously. He pulled you in with his arm around your shoulders, broad and muscled. You felt content, comfortable and most of all safe. It was a feeling you’d never felt before.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Chan hummed, his chest vibrating beneath where you’d landed when he pulled you in. He chuckled, then, his hand moving to your hair comfortingly. “Okay, maybe it is a little weird. I’m just very interested in you. I know you heard me on the phone to Minho, and yes, you are my type - I want to know more about you. Like, even beneath the sexually charged tension, heh.”

Oh. You licked your lips, eyes fixated on a random spot in your wall. “You do?”

He nodded. “I do.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You raised your head, surging over Chan’s body to press a kiss to his lips. His hair was soft when you ran your hands through it, despite random curls getting caught in your nails and causing him to groan at the pain flooding through his scalp. His hands went to your waist, licking into your mouth while he effortlessly pulled you on top of him. The show of strength had you whimpering into the kiss, hands moving down to his jaw. It clenched and unclenched while he had full control over your mouth despite you being on top.

You pulled away with a wet sigh, moving downwards to kiss at his neck. He groaned underneath his breath at the sensation of your lips on his skin. Your bed squeaked awkwardly as you moved down it, too quick for the old springs to handle. It felt naughty, kissing him like this in your childhood room - it felt even dirtier than the night before had, and you hadn’t done anything yet.

“I need you, Chan,” You whispered, nipping at his collarbone. “Need you. Please.”

He gasped as he felt your tongue trace the outline of his collarbone. He flung one bicep over his dark eyes with a deep sigh, allowing you to kiss and bite all over his skin. He looked like he was trying to control himself. You didn’t want him to.

Your hips started to grind against him, and you placed your palms flat on his chest. Both of Chan’s hands moved back to your hips with a surprised noise, but he didn’t stop you. His dick was hardening in his joggers, and it was providing the best clothed friction to your aching, needy clit below your pyjama shorts. You saw how big it was before, yet the length of it still shocked you when you slid your clothed core up and down the shaft.

“Daddy,” You whined, hips starting to buck frantically. You were sure that you had never felt this needy in your life. “Daddy, daddy, I want you so bad. You turn me on so bad, make me feel so hot, please-”

“Baby,” Chan groaned, his head falling back against your pillows. The soft pink bed sheets juxtaposed completely with what you were doing, and juxtaposed completely with him - Chan, the muscled man with dark hair who wore black and grey clothes constantly. It was as if he was corrupting you, and he was in a sense, being so much older. “Baby, c’mere, come and lay on the bed. Let daddy eat you out, yeah?”

“No,” You shook your head, hips still moving on his erection. Chan’s chest had started to accumulate a thin layer of dewy sweat, slick on his skin and making you want to lick it off. “I want your cock. I don’t wanna wait, I don’t wanna wait, please, just put it in, I’m wet enough, I promise.”

He knew you were babbling, incoherent in your haze of lust, but he still entertained you enough anyway. You spread your legs wider when his hand met your thigh, and then he was pushing two fingers beneath your shorts. He was met with your slick folds, and you gasped at feeling the touch of his fingertips, calloused from years of working with music.

“Oh, fucking hell. Dirty girl, dirty fuckin’ girl,” Chan moaned, his eyes almost rolling back into his head. “This pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, baby. All we did was kiss. Are you that much of a slut for me? Are you that much of a slut for your mother’s boyfriend? That’s filthy.”

“Yes!” You wailed, nodding. You reached down, canting your hips backwards a little bit so you could spread your thighs wider before hooking your fingers in your shorts and pulling them to the side. The movement revealed your pussy, clit swollen at the top of soaking wet folds, covering your drippy hole. “I wan’it so bad, so bad, so bad, please, please. Just push it in, make it hurt, I don’t care-”

Chan shoved the fingers of his spare hand between your parted lips, effectively shutting you up. “Shut up. You’ve got to prove to me you deserve it, baby.”

With those words, he was pushing a finger past your entrance. It breached your hole easily, the digit sliding through your wetness and curving up past your g-spot. Chan shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and shock, and then he was pulling his finger out. With a quick movement, he’d yanked his joggers down and let his cock spring out. The coarse hair was trimmed above his long, thick shaft and you couldn’t help but imagine the type of friction that would give your clit - you couldn’t wait.

“You were right. That slutty pussy is wet enough,” He mused, pulling your hips over his bare cock. Your pyjama shorts were slightly in the way, and you pulled them aside even more, letting your folds leave wetness over his shaft. “Lower yourself on it. Stretch yourself out. Slowly.”

You did as he asked, lowering your body onto his length. You felt the stretch immediately. You moaned, loud and ringing off of your walls. You didn’t give a shit if your mother heard. Fuck, you needed this. You wanted to bounce all over his cock until there was nothing left and your hole could do nothing but remember the tight fit. Trying to sit down quicker, Chan grabbed your hips, stopping you while only half his length was in you.

“You're gonna hurt yourself like that, sweetheart. That hole is so tight around me.”

“Please, daddy,” Your head fell into the nape of his neck. You wriggled yourself in his tight hold, trying to get more of his length in your pussy. He shook his head against you, chuckling.

“You want it? Fine, but don't fucking cry to me when it hurts,” Chan said, letting go of your ass. You realised he'd been holding you up, and within a millisecond you'd slammed down onto him. You wanted to scream, the stretch more than you could take. He laughed again, raising his eyebrows at you mockingly. “Too big?”

"N-No, perfect," You retorted. He moaned, spreading his legs and placing his feet flat on the mattress. More. More. Fucking more. You began to raise on him, expecting to ride that perfect cock, but he started to thrust up into you at an unrelenting place straight away, his balls slapping against your ass. You moaned incoherently, almost babbling, hands digging into his toned biceps. He leaned up to nip at your neck, and then he was pulling your t-shirt off of your body.

“No fucking bra?” Chan laughed in disbelief. His mouth went straight to your nipples, biting and sucking on the hard peaks. You jostled on his lap with his thrusts. You wanted to rub your clit, but you felt like he probably wouldn't let you. “Knew you were fucking filthy, sweetheart. You didn't even care about me going raw, did you? You want my load in that dirty hole. And now I find out these pretty tits were only one layer away from me…”

His voice trailed off. You whined, leaning down to try and kiss him again. He shoved his two fingers back in your mouth, making you suck on them. His bruising sucks caused your nipples to hurt, and you fucking loved it. You knew he was marking you up and you'd just have to deal with it.

You tried to start riding him. He didn't let you, manhandling you off of his cock.

“Daddy!” You whined in protest. Chan chuckled. He lifted you and manhandled you so your back was facing him on your bed, and you immediately repositioned yourself so you were face down, ass up. He reentered you in one swift thrust, causing you to jolt in surprise.

“Fucking tight pussy,” He groaned, thrusting into you with the same vigor as before. You almost screamed, but managed to just moan incoherently. The mattress creaked, the sound of old springs ringing around the room. “Fucking dirty hole. Listen to that, sweetheart. Can you hear how wet your cunt is for daddy's cock? For your mother’s boyfriend’s cock?”

You tried to stop whining and moaning to hear what he was pointing out to you, hearing wet slaps. Your cheeks burned with humiliation, fingernails digging into the mattress. You knew you were dripping for a fact now. You could hear it, you could hear everything, his balls slapping against your clit as well as the wet noise of his heavy cock reentering you.

You threw your ass back against him, trying to get the tip to hit that special spot inside of you.

“I think that asshole needs me too, sweetheart,” Chan laughed mirthlessly, his hands resting firmly on your ass, encouraging your bouncing. You moaned in response, clenching your pussy tight. He was going to ruin you for everyone. You'd have to just keep coming back for more. “You want daddy's finger in there? You want me to finger your asshole?”

Oh, yes. “Please, daddy, need to be full,” You said, wiggling your hips against him. You vaguely registered him reaching around you and making you suck on the fingers that had previously been in your mouth. He was going to fill both of your holes, and he moaned loudly at the sight of you sucking his fingers. There was no way that the whole house hadn’t heard you both by now. You hoped they were sleeping.

You sighed in ecstasy, feeling the fingers begin to move inside your ass. His thrusting was now hitting your g-spot in your pussy, given the added pressure from being full in both holes. You felt the orgasm finally begin to build. You liked the way he wasn't rushing you to cum, not like those younger college boys. He was taking care of you and just having good fucking sex. “Feels so fucking good, daddy. Feels so good.”

You were now semi-incoherent, your words all joining together in one long moan. Chan loved it, judging by his moans. His cock was pulsing inside you. You wondered if he was close. You wanted him to fill you up to the point where it was dripping out of you.

He pulled out of you again, grabbing your leg with one strong hand and flipping you onto your back. You were out of breath from the exertion, despite him doing all the work, and he looked fully composed save for the thin sheen of sweat on his body.

“Feels good, baby?” He asked, looming above you. You squirmed feeling your sweaty back rubbing against the blanket uncomfortably, but you nodded anyway. You wanted to please him. He looked down at your writhing body, letting out another groan. “So fucking sexy. You don’t know how much you fucking killed me, teasing me like that. Touch that pussy for me again, show me.”

He started pumping his shaft quickly, still staring down at you. You reached down with one hand and immediately pressed two fingers against your entrance, collecting the slick gathering outside before diving straight in. You curled your fingers against that spot inside of you, whining out. It wasn't enough. Not after having that fat cock in you. He definitely had ruined you for everyone else, including yourself. Nothing was ever going to feel the same again.

“Mmm. Looks so wet, sweetheart. Daddy wants a taste, is that okay?” Chan questioned, moving back onto his knees. You pulled your fingers out and tried not to cry at the loss.

“Please, daddy. Wanna cum in your mouth,” You slurred out, pushing his head towards you. He moaned into your pussy, taking his fat tongue and licking one wet stripe up your slit. He pulled your pussy back, exposing that throbbing clit to him, and placed one lick directly onto your button. "Fuck, daddy, feels so good! Suck it, please, suck it. I - please - need to cum so bad!"

“Need to cum, huh, sweetheart? I'll make your little pussy throb for me and then I'm putting my cock right back in that tight hole, where it belongs,” He spoke. He thrust two fingers into your slit, much thicker and longer than yours. You spread your legs, holding them up against your chest. You literally almost purred when he started moving his fingers, curling them up into that spot and sucking on your clit whilst he did so. It wasn't going to take long. The man was clearly amazing at every part of sex.

You focused on the feeling of his wet tongue rubbing up against your clit and writhed, feeling closer and closer to the edge. He knew what he was fucking doing. Your thighs started to shake, taking everything in you not to just let them go from your hold and clutch around Chan’s head. You wanted him to permanently live between your thighs. Your eyes clenched shut, a deep sigh leaving you.

“Fuck, I'm g’na cum,” You mumbled out, chest heaving and flushed a shade of crimson. Chan pulled away, causing you to whine. You pouted, reaching up to grab his shoulders. "No, no! You said I could. You said you would help me.”

“What I said was that I'd make it throb for you and then I'm sliding back right in here, sweetheart. Be good for daddy, you'll get to cum,” He positioned his length at your core again, sliding right back into home. You both moaned, and he was fucking you in a mating press this time, almost as if you were a couple in love. You wished you were, and realised this was definitely your favourite position so far. The man fucked like an animal and now he was fucking you like he was going to breed you, and you loved it. He reached down with one hand to rub your clit rapidly, trying to bring you to the edge. “This is my fucking pussy. My favourite fucking pussy, my only girl, the only pussy for me, okay?”

“Fuck!” You cried of overstimulation, hands still wrapped around your legs. “G’na... getting close again, gonna-”

“Cum then, sweetheart, flood my cock. Make a mess for me, come on, do it," Chris encouraged, breathing heavily next to your ear. His eyes were focused on where he was entering you over and over again, taking note of the white ring of slick that had formed around the base of his cock, soaking the hair that rested there. You scrunched your eyes shut, feeling overwhelmed with bliss. “That's it. That's my good girl.”

White hot ecstasy overtook your body. You wanted to squirm, but with the pressure of the muscular man on top of your body, you had nowhere to go. You focused on the feeling of his slick chest rubbing against your sensitive nipples, whining and moaning as the orgasm coursed through your body and made it feel like you were being electrocuted.

“Fucking clenching on my cock, shit,” Chan groaned, his hand falling away from your clit once your breathing had began to calm slightly. His hands went down to grab your hips, and before you knew it, he was lifting your hips up and fucking you senseless, treating you like a toy. “W-Wanted to be soft with you for our first time, sweetheart. I'm not normally like this, not at all, but this fucking pussy is driving me insane, fuck... I need to fill you up. Will you let daddy fill that pussy with my cum, sweetheart? Let me breed you, make you mine?”

You nodded quickly, unable to speak at this point. Your hole felt raw, sensitive and fucked open, but you needed his cum in you. You thought you might die if you didn't get it soon. His tip jabbed into your g spot incessantly, almost causing you to cum again, but you subconsciously knew you couldn't take another orgasm at the same level as the previous one. You might die.

“Fucking- g’na breed you, sweetheart. Gonna make you mine. G-Gonna give you a baby, g’na fill you up, fuck!”

With an animalistic growl, Chan’s head dropped to your neck, biting into the skin there and definitely leaving a mark. You felt his hips still and cum flooded out of the tip of his length, flooding your hole with a new sense of wetness. You sighed with content and laid there until Chan’s breathing calmed, his body weight fully on top of you and yet not uncomfortable.

“I have to be honest about something,” Chan sighed. You looked up at him from your position on his chest, and he looked down at you with an apprehensive look. He looked a lot shyer than he did moments before, when he was fucking you senseless and calling you a slut - he was blushing now, embarrassed. You were sure that’s what you liked about him. “You’re- it’s like you were made for me. I don’t know what the fuck to do, heh. I’m falling for you, I think.”

You blinked, leaning up to rest inches away from his face. Got him. You’d got him. “Well, that’s okay, Chan. You’re closer to my age anyway, right?”

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waluigis-837th-testicle · 2 years ago

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your f/o gets a tattoo in your honor. what does it look like?

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selfship-confession-box · 3 months ago

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A little note for 📸🧼 anon!

I don’t think it would be weird; since the Class 1A kids all get aged up at the end, I’d say you should be fine. It’s a short chapter, but even then it’s canon! Plus, who knows— if we get any more updates in MHA-verse stuff for the future, or depending on how the anime tackles the final chapter and everything, your F/O might get more screen time!

For the other characters I can’t say one way or the other (I personally don’t age up characters and drop them officially once I’ve outgrown them, but hey, you do you, you know?) but at least for MHA you should be fine.

#self ship #self shipping community #selfshipping community #selfship #self shipper #self shipping #self ship community #selfship community #f/o #f/os #📸🧼 anon #soapy photos anon

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carbonfiction · 4 days ago

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Irrevocably mine

Worst!Wolverine x reader

summary: Sometimes you get to be too much for Logan; not emotionally, god no. Never like that.. Just the mere presence of you stirs something within him. somedays, it just gets too much, that visceral need to be enveloped by you. it makes him nothing short of desperate, worn eyes begging and pleading, unsatisfied and unhappy until he has you closer than close.

warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI- Needy worst!Logan, f! Receiving oral, oral on couch?fingering, mentions of bodily fluids (cum and spit) cum eating?(Technically?? S' just suckin on fingers), not sure if this classes as free use?? teeny tiny bit of face slapping, swearing.. he's a little pussy drunk here i cant lie.. But uhh think thats it??

Masterlist words: little over 1.8k

Sometimes you get to be too much for Logan; not emotionally, god no. Never like that.. Just the mere presence of you stirs something within him. The mingled scent of your perfume and shampoo on the bedsheets, on his clothing, a sweet fragrance that seems to follow him around the house even in your absence.

Somedays he can quell the feelings down in his gut until its nothing more than a dull ache, like a muscle overstrained. other times it'll grow, festering in his bloodstream until his body thrums with need.

And Somedays.. Well. Somedays get too much, that visceral need to be enveloped by you. It boils over until he's nothing but desperate, worn eyes begging and pleading as he follows you around, unsatisfied and unhappy until he's inside you- has you closer than close.

Today had been one of those boiling over days. He'd felt it stir from the moment he'd awoken with you snuggled into him, head pushed so far into the crook of his neck it was a wonder you could breathe as you planted gentle kisses across his skin.

Logan pushed the feeling down as you showered together, trying his best to ignore your soapy nakedness and wandering hands, a casual intimacy, as you gently washed him and his hair the same way he always did for you.

He continued his restraint as he'd spent the majority of his day with Wade and his incessant jabbering mouth. But Logan could still feel the ache inside grow, his clothes sitting uncomfortable on his skin, even with half a mind on helping his begrudged friend "fix up a shelf"

*in other words, it was one of Wade's horrible excuse to get logan in his house holding power tools. Making lewd; only-things-wade-would-come-up-with level comments until logan would threaten to shove his claws so far down Wade's throat that he'd be classified as a kebab*

But what really pushed Logan over the edge was when he'd gotten home to the sight of you laid out on the couch reading a book while only wearing one of his flannel shirts with some panties. A usual outfit for you around the house really, but it never stopped driving him wild. The way the of the fabric framed your skin in the soft setting sunlight stirred away at him until his clothes really became uncomfortably constricting.

He needed you, needed to be beside you, above and below you. To finally let your scent consume him whole. He wanted to beg, to plead for you to use him for your pleasure. It was like witchcraft the way you rendered him so pent up by merely existing in his life, like an angel of pure sin had fallen from the sky right into his arms.

His steps were swift as he came to a stop in front of the sofa, jacket thrown haphazardly somewhere in the hall. Your eyes break from the book in your hands as yours meet his, your legs now the only barrier to taking a seat. Within seconds, Logans hands gently lift the soft expanses of your lower legs, a smile appearing on both your faces as he sits.

At first he makes no moves, tells you to keep reading while his hands just simply trace and massage patterns into your limbs, enjoying a comfortable silence. You don't seem to notice how his eyes roam hungry against your dressed form or the chubby bulge that sits heavy in his jeans.

His rough hands slowly walk higher until they find their way under the fabric of your- his- shirt, your thighs soft; doughy and warm in his large palms. And yet his moves don't alarm you, don't break your trance to the page your so taken by in that damn book.

He thinks you don't feel the way his broad body shifts you with him, subtly lowering himself to the carpet until he's practically between your legs. He thinks you don't see the look in his eyes, shining with hunger and need.

Truthfully you see it all, practically felt the growing heat of the fire inside him from the moment he walked in, but you know what he needs from you so you continue to read, letting him believe you don't know.

You make no move when his head dips down, scuffed cheeks moving up from your ankles as he plants gentle kisses. Your stillness burns the flames inside higher, craving acknowledgement, wanting to devour you, but he knows no matter how engrossed in something you are you'd stop him if you didn't want it to happen.

Logan takes his time until he's just above your knees, then, he shifts again, now fully kneeling on the carpet. Your legs placed over broad shoulders. his hands roaming, pushing up the fabric until it rests just above your pubic bone.

His thumb finds your clit over delicate cotton and lace, a teasing pressure that makes you suppress a shudder. Its calculated, barely there and absolutely not enough but it still manages to spark pleasure.

And pleasure given by Logan was like ecstasy.

But, to your surprise, itstays like that for a while; him doing nothing more than planting little nips and kisses to your thighs and lavishing his tongue along the steadily drenching gusset of fabric. Spit aiding the wetness until they press translucent against your slit.

There's a heat in your own gut that builds from his movements, one that has you relenting the little strength you had to ignore him. the exchange so far wordless. But the moment the book hits the couch and your fingers finally entangle in his hair, finding his signature tufts and tugging gently, things shift. The brown strands are soft between your fingers as he lets out a quiet groan, finally speaking up in an intoxicating rumble "gonna let me taste you properly princess? Please.. I need it, been waiting all day to taste you"

For a moment you consider denying him, tease him a little longer, but the embers that burn in his gaze stop you in your tracks. A softly murmured 'yeah' fills the air and as quick as it leaves your lips his own dip, finding the dampening fabric of your underwear and inhaling.

One heavy adamantium arm lies dormant over you, palm splayed on your lower stomach, doing little more than pressing down your hips whenever you even attempt to wriggle for more. The other switches between pawing against your covered tits and holding one of your hands tight.

You squirm under him, sticky and wet as you allow him to choose his pace. Letting him take what he needs so desperately from you, allowing him his time to conduct his main goal; to taste your cum soaked cunt on his tongue like a spoonful of the finest honey.

"Got the sweetest little pussy.. could die happy down here" his eyes make contact with yours as he speaks making you whine. Something in the way they darken when talking about your cunt sending a shooting jolt of pleasure through your veins.

Logan slips his hand from yours until it sits right on the side of your inner thigh. Fingers coming up the middle of the soggy material before he hooks them, pulling them aside and baring you fully unrestricted to him.

"There she is.." he mumbles, lips immediately finding your puffy clit and sucking softly. His tongue flicking against the pulsing bud and paired with the constant suction of his mouth it draws the littlest mewls from your lips; quiet gasps of obscenity.

He spits then, lust blown eyes locked to your puffy cunt, his thumb a steady pressure on your bud as he rubs the saliva in tight circles. A groan as he observes how your empty hole clenches around air, slick arousal mixed with spit drooling down to your ass. "Lookacha fuckin' drooling all over me already.. What a needy princess"

You don't get the chance to respond- to tease him for his own need- what with how his mouth latches back over your pussy. A jumble of sounds filling the room, half sloppy and wet from the way logan laps at you, the other mewls, moans and whimpers as the feeling of your orgasm builds in your gut.

"F-feels so good.... Don't stop, please don't"

If anyone knows how to eat pussy, its Logan. His ability to eat pussy- to eat your pussy- is beyond any man you'd ever been with. You suppose its all in the years, experience built in his time, but its not like you have the capacity to really ponder its origins right now; not with the gusto he's sucking and savoring you with.

"L-Lo.. Fuck- s-so close" you breathe, whiney moans bubbling from your chest as your back arches on the cushion. They grow in volume with each flick and lap of his tongue. Broad strokes to precise flits, all uniquely drawing you closer, winding up the tension higher.

But what really shatters you is Logans fingers. Long and thick, enough to offer a pleasurable stretch, as his index slips just below his working mouth- sliding inside with zero resistance. He crooks it back and forth once, twice, three times before the middle slips inside as well.

You moan louder, hips thrusting down; fucking yourself on his digits as you chase the ecstasy tingling through your fingertips. The grip on his hair tight, making logan grunt and grumble as you guide his face along your dripping pussy.

"C'mon princess. Do it, cum f'me. Need it" he murmurs and the way it wetly vibrates across your clit shatters the tension in your gut, making you cum with a broken gasp. Logans mouth and fingers never stopping their delicious rhythm until tears well in your eyes, fingers desperately tugging at his hair. Your thighs beginning to close around his ears before he pulls away, a deep satisfied grin spread across his face. His beard visibly wet, cum and spit soaked.

"Fuck lo.." you giggle breathless, tugging him up from the floor practically by his hair. "Always make me feel s'good baby" the words are breathy, pressed against his lips in a wet kiss, the taste of you on his tongue.

"I like making you feel good.. Do so well for me everytime" he smirks and you feel it pressed to your lips; a blush spreading from the combination of your taste and his praise.

You kiss him lewdly, sloppy and passionate as you carefully grab his hand from your pussy and tug it up, large fingers still slick and coated in a thin creamy layer of your release. You pull back then, with a soft sinful giggle, making full eye contact with him as you open your mouth, placing those fingers on your tongue, lips closing around them like they would his cock.

The sight makes logan groan, his eyes darkened so much they are almost black. His chubbed cock leaking desperately in his now far to tight jeans. You smile, His free hand lifting to tap roughly on your cheek as they hollow around the digits teasingly. "My pretty girl and her flithy mouth.. Think we should get you something else to suck on hm?"

Save me needy logan.. Save me.. Writers block is easing up a lil so i figured I'd write something I'd enjoy as a reader?? Lemme know whatcha think! <333

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett x reader smut #carbonsfics #worst wolverine #worst logan #logan x reader #logan wolverine

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dykewithnofilter · 15 days ago

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I don’t need your help… *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:════ ⋆★⋆ ════*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

IN HONOR OF ARCANE SEASON TWO, IM POSTING A FIC THATS BEEN IN MY NOTES APP FOR MONTHS

(this is very old, cut me some slack)

WARNINGS: I WILL BLOCK MINORS, THIS IS 18+. MDNI. Nsfw, some angst, gf!Vi, fingering r!receiving, head r!receiving. Let me know if I missed anything.

men dni ✌️

ESL, and also not proofread ✍️

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:════ ⋆★⋆ ════*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

You stared at the wall, sighing. You’d been like this for hours. Where was she? Did she leave you? Was she out drunk again? Every single possibility raced through your head. The door opened suddenly, startling you. Your head popped up quickly, eyes widening as you saw Vi. “Vi? What happened? Who hurt you—“ you started, worried. She sighed. “Nothing. Just a squabble at the bar. Quit worrying.. it’s annoying.” Vi said, her tone fed up and tired. You sat back down, waiting anxiously for her to do something about the cut on her stomach.

Vi sat down on the couch, not next to you, but the furthest away from you she could possibly be. She did this a lot. She hated showing you how she felt… “Are you not gonna treat that?” You ask quietly. She side eyed you. “No.” She said simply. She was in pain. You could see it, even if she wouldn’t tell you. You got up, sighing. “What are you doing?” Vi said with a frown on her face. You ignored her, grabbing a towel you wet with soap and water. You got on your knees, dabbing it against the wounds she’d accumulated on her stomach and thigh. “I don’t need your help…” Vi mumbled, wincing. “I don’t care.” You mumbled.

Vi looked down at you, a slight flush on her face from seeing you on your knees like that. “Just— hurry up..” Vi says quickly. Your brain pauses for a second. “Why?” You look up at her. She avoided your eyes, the flush in her cheeks becoming more evident. You cracked a smile. “Not everything has to be sexual, Vi.” You say, trying to sound stern. It probably didn’t help that you had to pull her pants off to clean the cut on her thigh. “I- I didn’t say— just- shut up.” Vi protested, sounding more cute than menacing. Now it was your turn to be a mean. Since she was out of her bad mood, maybe you could be a bit flirty. “I mean, I’m not complaining, just saying.” You grinned, putting the soapy rag right over the wound on her thigh, letting your hand wonder a bit. “What are you trying to do?” Vi said, her heart beating quickly. “What? I’m not doing anything.” You say, moving your hand to her inner thigh.

This felt pretty weird. Usually Vi initiated these things, and on you. “Y/n.” Vi said sternly. Okay. Maybe you were being too risky. “Finish whatever your doing, and hurry.” She said, frowning. A small tinge of excitement washed over you, knowing exactly what she was gonna do next.

You finished cleaning her up, and of course, now you were pinned against the wall while she kissed you roughly. You broke the kiss, panting. “No need to suffocate me..” you breath. “I’m not. Kissing and choking are two very different things.” Vi said flatly, a hint of amusement shining in her cold eyes. “I- shut up.” You smile. Vi rolled her eyes, kissing your neck. “Nope.” She replied, giving you a few love bites she was sure would be a nice, red blotch in a few minutes. You let out a soft hum of approval, feeling your breath hitch as Vi removed your clothes. Vi looked in your eyes again, asking for approval silently. You nodded, gulping.

In a split second, you were pushed against the couch, your legs spread. Vi slowly took your panties off, looking you in the eyes while doing so. “Beg.” She grinned. “..I— please, Vi..” you pant. Vi raises a brow. “Please, Vi, I need you..” you say, your voice more whiny. “That’s more like it.” And without another word, Vi slowly pushed her fingers into your dripping core. “F-fuck!” you gasp. “G-give a girl a warning-“ you say, a few moans bubbling from your mouth as vi curls her fingers. “I gave you plenty.” Vi shrugged, burying her face between your thighs. “Warning.” She mumbled, licking your clit softly, her free hand cupping your ass.

“Mm-.. vi—“ you whine. Vi swirled her tongue around your clit while her fingers curled and pumped inside of you. “M-mm— too much!..” you whimper. Vi continues her ministrations, defermened not to stop till you cum. Your hips shy away from her, but she holds them in place with her free hand. “Hngh— fuck- Vi, I’m close.!” You pant, your thighs shaking. Vi grins, speeding up. Her tongue flattens against your clit, pumping her fingers faster. “Ah-!” You moan. “Vi- I’m- I’m gonna—“ you can barley finish your sentence before you cum. Vi licked her lips, looking you in the eyes as you panted.

“Did I do well?” She smirked. She already knew the answer.

“Shut up.” You reply, blushing as you looked away.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:════ ⋆★⋆ ════*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

I NEED IDEAS, GIVE ME REQUESTS 😣

#arcane masterlist #arcane #vi x reader #wlw #lesbian #smut #arcane smut #vi smut #vi x reader smut #i heart arcane #arcane s2

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fvsm4x · 1 month ago

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S1 E24 —☆ HAUNTING TOUCH

pairing ( 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 𝗦. 𝗫 𝗙𝗘𝗠 ! 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥 )

Looks like you’ve accidentally moved into a haunted apartment, and there’s no escape now! You’ll have to deal with Gojo Satoru—your pervy, invisible roommate who can’t stop teasing you in all the wrong ways.

c.w. Ghost ! Gojo satoru x female reader, oral ( f. receiving), satoru is a perverrtttttt, pantie sniffing and stealing?? Idk, nsfw, mdni, stalking, somnophilia, lovesick gojo kinda, reader is a bit stupid, Spectrophilia

word count. 5.6k

a.n/ TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY!!

Moving into your new apartment was supposed to be a fresh start, the beginning of something exciting and different. After months of searching for a place that didn’t break the bank and didn’t feel like a closet, you stumbled across this one: a charming, slightly old-fashioned apartment nestled in a quiet neighborhood. The rent was suspiciously cheap, but everything looked good on paper.

The landlord, a friendly but quiet older man, had seemed eager to get someone in the apartment, and after a quick tour, you were sold.

The building was old, with high ceilings and tall windows that let in just enough sunlight to make the place feel cozy during the day. The floors creaked slightly beneath your feet, and the walls had a few nicks and scratches that gave the place character. It felt like it had a story, something comforting in its age, a contrast to the sleek, sterile apartments you'd seen before. You loved it from the moment you set foot inside.

Moving day came faster than you expected, and after a long, exhausting day of unpacking, you were ready to collapse. You spent hours dragging boxes up the narrow stairs, arranging and rearranging furniture, and trying to make the space feel like yours. By the time the sun set, casting long shadows across the floor, you were too tired to cook, so you settled for ordering takeout. Sitting on the floor, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes, you ate your dinner while scrolling through your phone, enjoying the silence of your new home.

The first few days went by uneventfully, though you couldn’t help but notice how quiet the building was. There were no sounds of neighbors, no creaking floors from above, no distant hum of conversation through the walls. It was peaceful, almost unnervingly so. You told yourself it was just because the apartment was well-insulated. Besides, the quiet was what you’d been craving after living in a noisy, cramped city for so long.

But little things started happening that made you pause. At first, it was just the lights. They would flicker every now and then—nothing too out of the ordinary for an old building, you figured. The kitchen light buzzed occasionally, casting a faint, uneven glow that was easy to brush off. You’d call maintenance about it when you had time.

Then, you started noticing objects in slightly different places than where you’d left them. You’d place your keys on the kitchen counter, only to find them on the coffee table later. Or you’d set your phone down, and when you came back, it would be a few inches to the side. Small things—things that could easily be explained away by the chaos of moving, you told yourself. Maybe you were just more scattered than usual, with all the boxes and stress.

But the more it happened, the harder it was to ignore.

One evening, you were washing dishes when the lights in the kitchen flickered again. You paused, hands in the soapy water, watching as the overhead light buzzed and dimmed, casting long shadows across the counters. You sighed, making a mental note to call the landlord in the morning. But just as you turned back to the sink, the faucet next to you sputtered and came on by itself.

You froze, watching the water gush from the tap, your heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you reached out and turned the handle, stopping the flow. You stared at the sink for a moment, your mind racing to come up with an explanation. Maybe the pipes were just old. Maybe there was a pressure issue. You shook your head, trying to brush it off.

That night, as you lay in bed, the unease crept back in. The apartment was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made every little sound feel amplified. You could hear the floor creak occasionally, and once, you thought you heard a soft, distant sound—like someone sighing. You sat up, listening, your breath catching in your throat. But there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

You told yourself you were imagining things. Moving was stressful, and new places always felt a little strange at first. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off.

The next morning, the lights flickered again as you made coffee. The buzzing sound filled the room, and for a split second, you thought you heard something else—a soft laugh, almost playful, like someone watching from a distance. You stood still, the hairs on the back of your neck rising as the sound faded.

You spent the rest of the day trying to ignore it, trying to convince yourself that it was just the apartment’s age showing. But that night, as you were brushing your teeth, the bathroom light flickered twice, then stayed off for a few seconds before coming back on. Your pulse quickened, but you finished brushing, telling yourself it was nothing.

Then, the faucet turned on by itself.

You jumped, staring at the stream of water gushing from the tap. This time, it wasn’t just a drip or a sputter—it was as if someone had deliberately turned it on. Your hand shook as you reached out to shut it off, the silence that followed feeling almost deafening. You glanced around the bathroom, suddenly aware of how alone you felt in the apartment. The air felt heavy, like you weren’t quite alone after all.

The lights flickered again, and this time, there was no mistaking the sound. Soft, barely audible, but definitely there—a laugh, low and teasing, as if someone was standing just behind you. You whipped around, your heart pounding in your chest, but the bathroom was empty.

You told yourself it had to be your mind playing tricks on you, but as the days went by, the odd occurrences became more frequent. Objects moved on their own, the lights flickered at the strangest times, and the laughter—always faint, always distant—began to follow you from room to room.

You tried to ignore it, tried to rationalize it, but the feeling of being watched never left you. Something—or someone—was in the apartment with you. And it wasn’t going away.

As the days passed, the strange occurrences in your apartment didn’t stop—they only grew more unsettling. Flickering lights became a nightly routine, always at the most inconvenient times. The soft, teasing laughter followed you from room to room, making your skin prickle. It wasn’t just random noises anymore. It felt targeted, like something was watching you, waiting for the perfect moment to make its presence known.

It started small. Your laundry, for example—folded and left in a neat pile on your bed. At first, you thought maybe you’d done it in a tired haze, but then your underwear, particularly your panties, would be laid out, almost displayed, as if someone had gone through them. Each time you found them, your cheeks would burn with embarrassment, but you forced yourself to dismiss it. Maybe you were just being paranoid.

But it didn’t stop there.

One night, after a long day, you stepped into the shower, eager to wash away the stress. The hot water felt amazing as it poured over your skin, steam rising and fogging the bathroom mirror. You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax for the first time all day. The warmth was soothing, but just as you started to unwind, you felt something strange. It wasn’t a sound this time, but a shift in the air, like someone was there with you.

You opened your eyes, glancing around the bathroom nervously. The shower curtain rustled slightly, but there was no one else in the room. You shook your head, trying to shake off the creeping anxiety.

But then the lights flickered.

You froze, soap slipping from your hands as the overhead light buzzed and dimmed. The room felt colder, the warmth of the shower suddenly less comforting. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling exposed even though you were alone. That’s when you heard it—his voice, low and teasing, as if he was standing right behind you.

“Nice view.”

Your breath hitched, and you spun around, water splashing against the tiles. But the bathroom was empty, save for the lingering steam swirling around you. Heart racing, you reached for the towel, wrapping it around your body as tightly as you could. The voice—it was clear as day, but there was no one there.

You stepped out of the shower, still dripping wet, your mind racing. Maybe it was just your imagination. Maybe the stress of the move was finally getting to you. But as you walked toward the fogged-up mirror, you froze. There, in the condensation, a message was slowly appearing, as if written by an invisible hand:

“Nice ass:)”

You gasped, backing away from the mirror, clutching the towel to your chest. The message blurred as the steam started to dissipate, but the message was clear. Someone—something—was here. And it wasn’t just watching.

It was playing with you.

Over the next few days, the incidents escalated. You’d come home to find your dresser drawers open, your panties scattered across the floor like someone had gone through them. The first time, you thought you’d left them out yourself, but the way they were laid out—so deliberate—made your stomach turn. Then there were the bathroom moments—whenever you showered, you’d feel that same eerie presence, like eyes lingering on your body, watching, waiting.

The laughter grew louder, more distinct, as if whoever—or whatever—it was, was enjoying your discomfort. At night, you’d feel your sheets shifting slightly, like someone was tugging at them from the foot of the bed. You’d sit up, heart pounding, only to find nothing but empty air. But the sensation—the feeling of being watched, of being toyed with—never left you.

Then, one particularly quiet evening, you were changing out of your work clothes— when you felt it again—the shift in the air, the invisible presence that seemed to hover just over your shoulder. You were halfway through pulling on your pajamas when the lights flickered, and a low, familiar voice whispered into your ear:

“Why don’t you leave the pajamas off this time?”

You gasped, pulling your shirt over your head in a rush, your face flushing hot with a mixture of shock and humiliation. But that teasing laughter filled the room again, like whoever was haunting you was enjoying every second of your reaction.

The worst part? A small, nagging part of you was starting to wonder—what if this wasn’t a dream? What if you really weren’t alone in this apartment? And worse, what if he wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon?

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding heart, the events of the previous night replaying in your mind. Had it all really happened? The flickering lights, the teasing whispers—it felt too surreal to fully grasp. You rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of a restless night. After a quick breakfast, you left for work, determined to brush it all aside.

But as you stepped into the bustling city, the lingering feeling of unease trailed behind you like a shadow. You couldn’t shake the thought that something—or someone—was watching you. Each time you caught a glimpse of a stranger on the street, your heart would race, but you’d quickly remind yourself that it was just your imagination. There were no ghosts lurking in the corners of your life; this was just an old building with some quirks.

Yet, as the day went on, your thoughts kept drifting back to the apartment. You couldn’t concentrate on your work, your mind wandering to the strange occurrences. Maybe you should call the landlord about the lights, or even consider looking for a new place. But the thought of starting over again, packing up all your things for the second time in a few weeks, felt daunting. You sighed, trying to focus on the tasks at hand, but it was no use.

When you finally returned home, the apartment felt eerily quiet, as it had for the past week. The sunlight was fading, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever awaited you in the shadows.

As you moved through the rooms, you noticed your laundry basket had been knocked over, clothes scattered across the floor. Your heart sank. Had you left it like that? Or had someone—or something—done it for you? You knelt to pick up your clothes, feeling a chill race down your spine as you gathered your things.

“Okay, this is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself. “It’s just an old building. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

But as you stood up, a flicker of movement caught your eye. You turned sharply, only to find the bathroom light flickering ominously. Your pulse quickened, and a wave of anxiety washed over you. You took a cautious step toward the bathroom, but before you could reach for the doorknob, the light stopped flickering, plunging the room into darkness.

“Really?” you said, forcing a laugh, trying to convince yourself that this was all just a trick of the mind. You opened the door, peering inside, and noticed the steam lingering in the air, as if someone had just taken a shower.

“Great, now I’m imagining things,” you muttered, shaking your head as you flicked the switch, and the light flickered back on, illuminating the room. You moved to the sink, splashing some water on your face, trying to ground yourself in reality.

Suddenly, a cold breeze brushed against your neck, sending a shiver through you. You spun around, heart racing, but there was no one there. You rolled your eyes, scolding yourself for being jumpy.

“Get a grip,” you whispered, taking a deep breath. You closed your eyes for a moment, leaning against the cool sink, letting the water run. The sound of the water was soothing, but just as you started to relax, you heard it again—the low, teasing laugh echoing off the tiles.

“Why do you keep pretending you’re alone?” the voice came, a soft whisper that sent chills down your spine. It was unmistakably playful, dripping with a teasing quality that made your skin prickle.

You froze, eyes wide as you scanned the room for the source of the voice. “Who’s there?” you asked, but the only response was the echo of your voice bouncing off the bathroom walls.

The air grew thick with tension, and you stepped back, your pulse pounding in your ears. “This isn’t funny!” you shouted, though the sound felt hollow, almost weak in the empty space.

“Not funny? I think it’s hilarious,” the voice replied, the amusement clear in its tone. “I love watching you squirm.”

Your breath hitched as a wave of heat rushed to your cheeks. Was someone—something—really watching you? The realization sent a shiver down your spine, and you stepped out of the bathroom, retreating into the safety of your living room.

But as you turned to leave, you caught a glimpse of movement in your peripheral vision. You whipped around just in time to see a flicker of white—was that a figure?—before it disappeared. Your heart raced, and you fought the urge to scream. You were alone, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t.

“I know you’re there!” you called out, trying to sound brave, though your voice wavered slightly. “Show yourself!”

In response, the only sound that met your challenge was a soft, breathy laughter that echoed through the apartment, taunting you from the shadows. You took a shaky step back, your heart racing as you glanced around, the flickering lights dimming again and casting eerie shapes that danced along the walls.

The silence that followed felt heavy, almost oppressive, and you could sense the presence lingering just out of sight. A chill raced down your spine, and you couldn’t help but feel that he was watching you, delighting in your unease. The knowledge that you weren’t alone gnawed at the edges of your mind, both thrilling and terrifying.

Eventually, you managed to muster the courage to retreat to your bedroom. You turned off the light, hoping to banish the creeping dread that had settled in your chest. As you slipped into your pajamas, you tried to convince yourself that this was all just a figment of your imagination—a bad dream that would dissipate with the morning light.

But as you jumped under the covers, cocooning yourself in the warm fabric, the shadows seemed to close in around you. You closed your eyes tightly, willing yourself to fall asleep and hoping that when you woke, everything would be back to normal.

As you lay in bed, the tension of the evening began to fade, your eyelids growing heavy. The soft rhythm of your breathing filled the silence of the room, and you felt yourself slipping into a dreamless sleep, the haunting presence momentarily forgotten.

But as the night deepened, a cool draft swept through the room, carrying with it an almost palpable energy. The covers at your feet began to stir, slowly pushed aside by an unseen force. You stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips, but you didn’t wake.

Gojo, unseen but very much present, hovered just above your bed, his gaze fixed on your peaceful form. The way the soft glow of the moonlight illuminated your features made his heart race with an intensity he hadn’t expected. He watched, entranced, as you slept, your chest rising and falling rhythmically, your hair spilling over the pillow like a dark waterfall.

Unable to resist, he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your cheek. The warmth of your skin sent a thrill through him, and he admired how serene you looked, completely unaware of his presence. He traced a finger along your jawline, careful not to disturb you, savoring the softness beneath his touch.

His fingers then moved down, grazing over your stomach, feeling the gentle rise and fall as you breathed. He marveled at the way your body seemed to relax into the sheets, completely trusting and vulnerable. With each touch, he felt an intoxicating mix of desire and reverence, appreciating the intimate moment without wanting to push too far.

He continued to explore, his fingers trailing to your waist, brushing against the fabric of your pajamas. The urge to pull you closer—to bridge the gap between the living and the dead—was overwhelming, but he held himself back, content to admire from a distance. The thrill of his touch, though fleeting, made his heart race, and he found himself captivated by the way you responded to his gentle caresses, even in your sleep.

Gojo continued to trace the delicate curves of your body, he felt an overwhelming surge of desire wash over him. The way you lay there, so innocent and unguarded, ignited something deep within him—an intense craving that surged like a tide. His heart raced as he let his fingers linger on your waist, the warmth of your skin contrasting sharply with his cold touch.

He bit his lip, trying to suppress the instinctual urge to claim you. But the sight of you sprawled across the sheets, completely unaware of his presence, stirred something primal within him. It was maddening; every time he looked at you, a rush of lust clouded his thoughts. He shifted slightly, feeling his body react involuntarily to the intoxicating combination of desire and admiration.

Gojo’s breath hitched as he fought to maintain control, his gaze tracing over your form, lingering on the way your body rose and fell with each breath. The fabric of your pajamas hugged you in all the right places, teasing him with the promise of what lay beneath. The mere thought of how easily he could pull those soft fabrics away made his pulse quicken, and he felt himself hardening at the thought.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured to himself, a hint of desperation lacing his tone. The tension in the air felt electric, charged with unspoken possibilities. His hand drifted lower, fingertips brushing along the soft material of your pajama top, teasing the edge of the hem as if tempted to explore further.

Every part of him wanted to surrender to the desire that throbbed in his chest, to take you right then and there. But he held back, reveling in the sheer thrill of the moment. Watching you, the way you sighed softly in your sleep, sent shivers through him, both thrilling and torturous. He knew he should stop, but the more he watched, the more he felt himself losing control.

His hand ventured lower, brushing the edge of your pajama pants, the fabric soft beneath his fingertips. The contact sent a rush of warmth through him, and he couldn't help but marvel at how delicate you seemed, wrapped up in the cocoon of your blankets. His fingers lingered just above the waistband, hesitant yet curious, feeling the gentle curve of your hips.

With each slow movement, he could feel the heat radiating from your skin, intoxicating him further. He traced the outline of your body, the subtle dips and rises that made you uniquely you, savoring the sensation of your warmth beneath his touch. You shifted slightly in your sleep, a soft sigh escaping your lips as if responding to his caress, igniting a thrill deep within him.

He hesitated for a moment, the line between admiration and temptation blurring in the shadows of the room. As his fingers inched closer to your skin, he felt a mix of excitement and restraint. He wanted to touch you, to explore the contours of your body fully, yet there was a profound respect for your innocence, a desire to revel in the moment without overstepping boundaries.

The fabric of your pajama pants was thin, and he could almost feel the warmth of your skin just beneath it. He let his fingers trail along the edge, teasingly close to crossing that invisible line. The sensation of his touch made the air thick with tension, electric and charged, as if the very atmosphere around you was aware of the forbidden intimacy unfolding in the dark. He slowly pushed your pants down—carefully to not wake you up

As your pants slipped down to your ankles and fell to the floor, the cool air kissed your skin, stirring you from the depths of your dreams. In your slumber, you remained blissfully unaware, lost in a world where nothing could touch you.

Gojo’s hand moved with practiced ease, slipping around your thighs and gently coaxing them apart. The sensation was electric, even in your sleep, as if some part of you sensed the shift in the atmosphere. His touch was teasing, almost reverent, as he revealed the delicate blue panties you wore, adorned with a tiny bow at the front.

The fabric clung to your folds, accentuating the softness of your skin. A subtle dampness had formed between your folds, making the material slightly sheer, hinting at your body's response to his presence. It was a testament to the tension that crackled in the air, as he admired the way the panties hugged you perfectly, creating a contrast that was both innocent and alluring.

Gojo's gaze was fixed on you, his expression a mixture of desire and fascination. He reveled in the sight of you, so trusting and vulnerable in your sleep, completely unaware of his hungry admiration.

Gojo breathed out heavily, a small smirk forming at his lips as he grinned. “Someone must be having a great dream,” he thought to himself, his amusement mixing with a thrill of desire. Slowly, he let his fingertip glide over the wet spot, the material yielding slightly under his touch, sending a jolt of excitement through him.

You stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you instinctively shifted deeper into the warmth of your blankets. In that moment, Gojo took the opportunity to slip your panties to the side, his breath catching as your skin was revealed to him. The sight was intoxicating, and he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful you looked, even in your slumber.

Leaning in closer, he lowered himself onto his elbows, his nose brushing against the soft skin of your inner thigh. He inhaled deeply, drawn in by your sweet, intoxicating scent that enveloped him like a warm embrace. It was fresh and alluring, igniting a primal urge within him that he struggled to contain.

The temptation became too much to bear; he felt himself losing control. His tongue flicked out, brushing against your warm skin, and you instinctively arched into him, a soft whimper escaping your mouth as your subconscious recognized the sensation. The initial touch of his wet tongue against you sent shockwaves of heat spiraling through your body, stirring you from your dreams.

As you began to wake, you felt a warm rush in your lower stomach, a heat building that made you blush even more. Your eyes fluttered open, confusion mingling with a strange sense of desire. The realization of what was happening hit you like a bolt of lightning, and you shot upright, your hand instinctively tangling in Gojo’s hair as your body reacted to the sensations he was creating.

You gasped, your breath hitching in your throat as his tongue expertly flicked against your sensitive skin, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through you. It was a mix of surprise and undeniable pleasure, and you couldn’t help but moan softly, the sound escaping before you could stop it.

Gojo’s heart raced at the sound, his instincts driving him further into the moment as he continued to explore, tasting you with a fervor that only intensified your reaction.

Your heart raced as you tugged on his hair, a mix of confusion and overwhelming desire coursing through you. Gojo responded to your pull, the sensation igniting a fire in him as he continued his ministrations, licking and teasing with an expert touch. You gasped, the sound echoing softly in the dim light of the room, a testament to the intensity of your awakening.

You were torn between pleasure and confusion, your mind racing to comprehend the whirlwind of sensations and the reality of the situation. Who was this man? How did he get into your apartment? You had convinced yourself that the flickering lights and eerie shadows were mere figments of your imagination, a result of moving into a new place. Yet, here he was—intimate and insistent, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

“W-What’s happening?” you stammered, still gripping his hair as your body betrayed your mind, yearning for more despite the chaotic thoughts swirling around. “Who are you?”

Gojo paused for a moment, his blue eyes locking onto yours, a mixture of amusement and hunger dancing in their depths. “I’m your roommate who is enjoying the view,” he said with a teasing smile, leaning in closer, making your breath hitch.

“A roommate?” You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of pleasure clouding your thoughts. “I don‘t have a roommate! I live here alone..”

His laughter echoed softly in the room, a sound that sent another shiver of confusion down your spine. “You really think you’re alone in this apartment?” he replied, his voice low and playful, as if he reveled in your bewilderment. “I’ve been here all along, I thought that was obvious cause i spoke to you”

As the weight of his words sank in, the unease in your stomach twisted. The flickering lights, the shadows that danced along the walls—they suddenly felt more significant. Was it possible that you had unknowingly welcomed him into your life, this alluring presence who now had you caught in a web of confusion and desire?

You opened your mouth to protest, to question further, but another wave of pleasure washed over you as he resumed his teasing, his tongue flicking against your most sensitive spots. You felt the tension coiling tighter, each flick sending waves of heat crashing over you, making it hard to think straight.

“Don’t think too hard,” Gojo murmured, his voice dripping with mischief. “Just enjoy the moment. ”

His words twisted in your mind. You had never considered wanting something like this. The mixture of fear and pleasure churned within you, creating a heady cocktail that left you dizzy. “No, I—” you started, but the protest faltered as his tongue continued its wicked dance, sending another gasp from your lips

He looked up at you with an impish grin, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You smell so good.. I couldn’t help myself.”

The playful tone in his voice only heightened the tension. You felt a blush creeping across your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and something else—something intoxicating that made you want to lean into him. The softness of your sheets contrasted with the heat building between your legs, and you could hardly think straight.

As he continued to work his tongue, you couldn’t help but arch your back, instinctively seeking more of that delightful sensation. Each flick and swirl of his tongue ignited every nerve ending in your body, drawing soft moans from your lips. It was as if he had uncovered a hidden part of you that yearned to be explored.

“Does it feel good?” Gojo asked teasingly, pausing for just a moment to allow you to respond, his breath tickling your skin.

You could only nod, a desperate sound escaping you as the tension inside you coiled tighter. The world around you faded into nothingness, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment. He watched you with a hungry gaze, taking in every reaction, every sigh, as if he were memorizing your body’s responses.

“Just relax,” he encouraged, his voice a soothing balm that only added to the pleasure. “You’re so pretty”

With that, he resumed his teasing, his focus unwavering. You surrendered to the sensations washing over you, losing yourself in the warmth and intimacy of the moment, every heartbeat echoing the unspoken connection that lingered in the air.

A low moan escaped your lips, unbidden, as his tongue slipped inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, a flood of heat radiating through your body. Your fingers instinctively tightened their grip on his soft, white hair, tugging at the strands as your hips bucked involuntarily in response to the maddening rhythm he set. Each flick of his tongue sent ripples of pleasure coursing through you, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Gojo’s presence was both commanding and teasing, his movements deliberate, savoring every reaction he drew from you. He pulled away momentarily, the cool air of the room brushing against your heated skin, and your eyes fluttered open just in time to meet his gaze. Those piercing blue eyes were filled with a dark amusement, a predatory gleam in them that made your pulse quicken.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he whispered, his voice low and reverent, as if he were admiring something rare and precious. The words sent a shiver down your spine, the heat inside you pooling deeper, igniting a fire that you couldn’t control. Before you could respond, his mouth was on you again, more insistent this time, his tongue working with a skill that left you trembling.

The room around you seemed to fade, the only thing anchoring you to reality being the intensity of the moment. Every nerve in your body felt alive, hyperaware of his every touch, every subtle shift. Your hands clutched his hair even tighter, a quiet whimper escaping you as you felt the tension coil tighter and tighter in your core.

You could barely form a coherent thought, lost in the sensation as he continued his assault on your senses. With each pass of his tongue, the pressure built until it became unbearable, and then, like a wave crashing over you, the release came in an overwhelming rush.

Your body arched, your breath catching as the climax tore through you, leaving you gasping for air. For a moment, time seemed to stop, your senses overloaded with the heat, the electricity, the overwhelming pleasure that left you shaking. He didn’t stop, though—his eyes never leaving yours, watching as you unraveled beneath him, fully aware of the power he held over you.

Your body finally relaxed, sinking back into the bed as the aftershocks rippled through you, your grip on his hair loosening. Gojo lifted his head, his lips glistening with evidence of what he’d just done, and that smirk returned, lazy and satisfied.

As your breathing slowly returned to normal, your body still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened, you blinked your eyes open. The warmth of what had just transpired lingered in the air, but something was missing. The weight of his presence—his hands, his body, the heat of his breath against your skin—had vanished.

You lifted your head, blinking through the dim light of the room. Where was he? Your heart pounded, a mix of confusion and unease settling in. You were sure you hadn’t imagined it—every touch had felt so real, so intense—but now, he was gone. Completely.

You sat up slowly, the sheets rustling as you scanned the room. The lamp on your bedside table flickered again, casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to shift with every second. The unsettling quiet that filled the space made your skin prickle. He’d been here—right here, between your legs—but now there was nothing, not even a sound to suggest he had ever existed.

Had he left? Was he still watching?

A faint breeze seemed to brush past you, chilling the room even further. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly hyper-aware of your bare skin, of how exposed you were.

Just then, you heard it—the softest of sounds, a quiet, almost mocking laugh. It was close, impossibly close, yet no one was there. You shivered, your eyes darting around the room, searching for any sign of movement, any clue to his whereabouts. But there was nothing.

“Satoru Gojo. Remember the name, sweetheart. You’ll be hearing it a lot.”

🏷️: @sadmonke @collectionofdolls @1t4d0r1 @glazedtear @madamechrissy

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sapphiremusings · 3 months ago

Text

you’re how i pray | aemond targaryen

summary: lady baratheon does not fear her newly wed husband, prince aemond, anymore. she does, however, fear the consummation of their marriage. aemond is eager to show her that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

PART ONE

MASTERLIST

cw: explicit sexual content, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, breeding kink, ooc!aemond (i made him too sweet), baratheon!reader, no use of y/n

With the sound of their marital chamber doors closing behind her, trapping her inside the dimly lit room with only her newly-wed husband before her, Lady Baratheon– or would she be called Lady Targaryen now?– has never felt more nervous. Her heart is racing a thunderous beat within her chest, its rhythm only increasing as she sweeps her gaze across the large, four-poster bed that sits against the wall.

The thought of marrying Aemond ‘One-Eye’ Targaryen had once terrified her, and she had spent most of her time in Kings Landing avoiding him and anything else that had to do with her wedding day. But after the events that perspired between the two betrotheds just a few nights ago, she has felt as if she is burning from the inside out, flames licking up her sides and traveling deep into her bones. Recently, she had been avoiding the prince for a much different reason, one that is all the more unfamiliar to her.

She thinks of him constantly. In the morning when she awakes, lying among rumpled sheets with her aching thighs rubbing together, skin flushed from a vivid picture she painted in her mind, where he had bent her over the Iron Throne and licked her cunt fervently once more. During her daily walks around the Keep, holding her breath when she turns every corner, remembering how he had trailed behind her, heavy gaze searing into her back. At night, when she takes her bath, her handmaidens running their fingers through her soapy hair, and she imagines how it would feel to have him beside her, hands roaming her naked flesh as she admires his own bare form. Even in her dreams does he appear, lustful as he does unspeakable things to her, leaving her flustered and ashamed when she comes to.

Aemond hadn’t sought out her company since, or perhaps he had but she had just been too good at evading him. It wasn’t until she was walked down the aisle of the Sept, handed off to the prince by her lord father, that she had seen him since that night. His face gave nothing away as they gazed into each other’s eyes, hands clasped together as the septon spoke, but occasionally she would catch his single lilac eye dip down to her lips. She had wondered then if he has been plagued by the same thoughts, and now, as she stands frozen before him, she feels dizzy at the thought that he too wants her the same way she desperately wants him.

Goosebumps begin to form along her skin, now only covered by a thin nightdress, her handmaidens having undressed her in preparation for the bedding. She finds herself drawing closer to the lit fireplace, eyes lingering on the crackling flames. Aemond is quiet behind her retreating figure, yet she can feel his molten gaze on her timid frame, and she shivers at the familiar feeling. That beautiful eye of his seemed to always follow her, even when she was alone in her chambers late at night did she feel the weight of it, piercing and all-consuming.

She feels bare in her state of undress, the sheer fabric doing little to hide her shape, and when she dares to look down, she flushes red hot at the sight of her nipples, stiff against the cotton. Her arms come up to cover her chest, eyes flickering to the side to look at her husband, who still watches her, lifting his cup to his lips. She has already had her fill of the wine, a special import from Dorne that had tasted tart on her tongue, which left her with a clouded head and the urge to laugh at every little thing that amused her. By her fourth cup, her husband himself had decided she had enough, ending their night with the announcement of the bedding. Thankfully, there was to be no traditional ceremony, but it had still sobered her up immediately.

“Are you cold?”

His voice jolts her from her thoughts, making her turn to face him, her heart nearly stopping in her chest at the sight of him, closer than he was before. No longer does he stand by the table, cup in his hand, stoic in his leathers. Now he stands before her, tunic unclasped, showing his white undershirt, partly opened to let her catch a glimpse of his skin. Her mouth feels dry, and she slowly darts out her tongue to lick her lips, eyes trailing back up to stare into his hooded one. His iris is blown wide, clouded with the same emotion she had seen that fateful night, when he had ducked beneath her skirts and licked her cunt until she was crying out on his skillful tongue. The memory only serves to tighten a coil in her stomach, the very core of her beginning to throb incessantly.

She opens her mouth, then closes it. Her words have escaped her, throat parched and unwilling to cooperate. Instead, she nods, fingers tightening in their grip on her arms, still crossed over her chest. Aemond hums, dipping his head to nose along the crown of her head, hands making their way to rest above her own, dwarfing them in his grasp. His skin is burning hot, and the feeling of his flesh against her own makes her gasp out, her grip immediately loosening under his, giving him the chance to push her arms down, exposing herself once more. Hands run up them, leaving a trail of flames in their wake, before reaching around her shoulders and pressing flat against her back, pulling her frame against his own.

His lips brush the shell of her ear, breath steady along her cheek. “Let me warm you up, ābrazȳrys.” (Wife).

Flushed together, his warmth seeps through her shift, her nipples hard against his chest. Timidly, she reaches up to tug on his leather tunic, wishing to feel more of him, fingers shaky as she pulls it down his arms. He helps her, throwing it off to the floor, before immediately returning to wrap his arms around her, pressing her closer until she can feel every ridge of his chest beneath their undergarments. His lips begin to travel along her cheek and down her jaw, her hands finding purchase in his hair, the silver tresses feeling like silk between her fingers. In a daze, she searches for his lips against hers, chin dipping down as he comes up to meet her, searing in their wet embrace.

She wishes to never stop kissing him. His tongue is slick as it slides across her own, the taste of wine still lingering around the roof of his mouth, and she blames this for her faltering will, which grows thinner and more precarious the longer his lips are moving in time with hers, his hands gripping her waist tightly. A whimper leaves her lips as he brings a hand up to her shoulder, fingers slipping under the strap of her nightdress, tugging it down before moving to the other side. Her eyes scrunch up as her heart begins to hammer a racing beat within her chest, stomach twirling into a tight knot, and she breaks away from the kiss with a gasp for air. His lips move to trail down her neck, teeth gently nibbling the skin right below her jawbone, and she is quick to bring her hands to grab at his arms.

“I am scared.” Her mouth quivers around the words, her voice barely a whisper. “W-will it hurt terribly?”

Aemond lifts his chin, dark eye flickering across her worried face, flushed from the feel of him against her. “I told you I do not wish to harm you, little storm.”

When she continues to shiver before him, the straps of her dress resting along her forearms, he brings a hand up to caress her soft cheek. Her eyes flutter at the sensation, and she takes a step closer to him, now wishing she hadn’t expressed her fear. She is grateful for his tenderness, something she has never thought him to be, in all his harsh stoicism. A dragon prince, with the fiery blood and temper of a Targaryen royal, whispered to be as mean as the beast he rides. But his touch is gentle, and so are his words, filling her with a warmness that seeps through her veins from head to toe. Slowly, she lifts herself onto the tips of her toes, lips puckering as she embraces him once again.

In her movement, her nightgown slips down her arms, pooling at her feet in a heap of cotton. Aemond groans at the feeling of her bare form pressed against him, pert nipples stiff along his light tunic, and he wraps his arms around her back, pulling her as close to him as he can. Their lips move together in a sensual dance, teeth clashing and tongues rubbing against each other, and even as her toes begin to ache beneath her weight, she still tries to push herself up taller, wishing to melt into him. She brushes her hands down his neck and underneath the collar of his shirt, pushing and tugging until her fingers are scratching along the skin of his chest, warm beneath her fingertips. She nearly sobs at the feeling. “My prince…”

“I am your husband now,” he murmurs against her lips, wet with their shared spit. “I shall be addressed properly.”

They begin to gravitate towards the bed, until her legs bump the very edge of it, the furs and silks that line the mattress sliding across her flesh as she lays back, a whine leaving her as she becomes separated from her husband. He peers down at her, the black pupil of his single eye blown wide, until only a ring of dark violet remains. She resists the urge to cover herself, goosebumps lining the entirety of her as she shivers under his smoldering gaze, and she only hopes that he is satisfied with her. Back on Storms End, her septa had instilled in her the importance of pleasing her future husband, saying that if he does not find her comely she may never be blessed with babes.

Aemond squashes these worries with a satisfied rumble. “My perfect little wife…”

She shyly smiles, the arousal between her legs growing slicker the longer he stares, and she unconsciously rubs her thighs together. He follows this movement, hands moving to unbuckle his belt, lips twitching as she holds her breath, watching as he begins to undress. Soon enough, he is as naked as her, and he joins her on the soft bedding, sitting himself between her legs, which he presses open with a lift of her knees. His palms are hot as they slide along her thighs, until they rest on her hips, which he tilts upwards, leaning down with a pleased hum. Her back instantly arches off the bed as his nose nuzzles within her slick curls, tongue smoothing along her weeping slit, before flicking the very apex of her. A sob escapes her gaping mouth, head thrown back against feathered pillows, fingers scrambling around until they find purchase on the top of his silver head. Unlike last time, he’s quick to press a finger within her, hips bucking upwards at the intrusion, brows furrowed as her pleasure begins to swell over.

“I’ve been dreaming about this pretty cunny,” he grumbles against her, pressing another finger in, joining the other. She squirms at the sting of it, but when he curls them upwards, her hips still at the white-hot flash of pleasure that hits her. “So sweet… I could lick you forever.”

His words sound far away, her ears clogged in the throes of her rapture, and tears gather at the corners of her eyes as she moans. “Aemond…”

Between his tongue and his fingers, she can feel her peak beginning to wash over her, and she quickly wiggles her hips, trying to push herself away from his ministrations. He doesn’t allow her to go far, bringing his other hand up to press against her stomach, and she keens at the feeling of his weight over her womb, intensifying the pleasure and bringing about her end with a shattered cry. His tongue laps up her release, fingers still curling upwards against that spot inside her that makes her feel as if she is floating above her body, even as she whines at the overstimulation that starts to tingle across her. Another wave begins to rise within her, causing her to kick out her legs from beneath him, unable to stay still.

Aemond groans as she gushes around his fingers once more, tongue reaching down to catch every last drop. “There we go… good girl.”

Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, whining as he pulls away, hands immediately reaching out for him. He pushes his two fingers into his mouth, cleaning himself off, before crawling over to rest upon her, his lips finding hers in another searing kiss. She wraps her quivering legs around his waist, jolting against the feel of him pressed between her legs, hot and hard as it slides across her wetness. Her arms tighten around his shoulders, pulling him down to lay atop her, wishing to feel him everywhere. When she thinks about him inside her, chest pressed against hers, lips locked as they indulge in a lover’s embrace, she feels an overwhelming sense of adoration for her newly-wed husband. His kisses, despite the ravenous nature of them, are sweet, and so is the way he holds her, arms slipping beneath her as he hugs her to his chest, their hearts thumping together.

“Husband…” she whispers, her lips resting below his, in the dip of his strong chin. “Please…”

His eye opens to stare into her pleading ones, nose nuzzling along her cheek. “What do you need, ābrazȳrys?”

She slowly rocks her hips upwards, the immediate friction causing Aemond to hiss, jaw clenching as his eye flutters closed. Her lips begin a trail across his face, stopping right under the leather eyepatch he still wears. It’s the only piece of fabric between them, and as she brushes along the jagged scar that peeks out from beneath it, she frowns. “Will you show me, husband?”

He tenses, pulling away with a furrowed brow. She flushes pink under his stare, yet doesn’t back down from her request, bringing her hands up to cradle his jaw. Her fingers slip under the leather strap, eyes searching his own, waiting patiently. It seems like an eternity passes before he dips his chin in a nod, closing his eye once more as he allows her to slip the patch over his head. The sight surprises her. A gleaming sapphire, broken skin surrounding its edges, glares back at her. He’s as still as a statue as she gazes at his wound, and it isn’t until she lands a soft kiss against the jewel does he open his eye, curiously. Instead of fear or disgust, she merely looks at him in awe, a small smile on her face as she brings a finger up to run across the stone.

“It’s beautiful,” she presses a chaste kiss to his lips this time, a hand brushing back his hair. “You are beautiful, husband.”

His eye searches hers for any trace of dishonesty, yet he finds none. At her words, he surges forward again, tongue slipping between her gasping mouth, the ache in his cock becoming unbearable as he ruts against her, hissing when the tip of him catches along her wet slit. Her hands scramble for purchase, resting atop his shoulders, fingernails digging into the bare skin. Thighs clench around his waist, trying to pull him in, and he pulls away to look down, the sight of him nestled between the lips of her soaked cunt the most arousing thing he’s ever seen. She mewls, wanton as she squirms beneath him.

“Shhh,” he hushes her, his hand going down to wrap around his pulsing length, bringing it to press against her entrance. “It’s alright, little storm.”

When he pushes in, she squeezes her eyes shut, mouth agape in a quiver as he slowly enters her. He holds himself above her, arms flexing as he sharply inhales, the scrape of his jaw brushing against her lips. The pain is slight, and her cunt is greedy as it pulls him in, her soft walls clenching around him as he bottoms out, until his thighs are pressed against her own, chest heaving as she adjusts to the feeling of being filled. Her arms wrap themselves around his torso, pulling him down until he rests atop her once more, trapping her into the soft mattress, hips starting to thrust in a slow rhythm. She presses kisses along his neck and jaw, tongue lapping against the skin, relishing the taste of him. When she begins to inch her hips upwards, matching the steady pace of his, he groans, bringing himself up to rut into her faster, hand going under the bend of her knee, lifting it to rest higher around his waist. She lets out a cry at the new sensation, his cock deeper now as he slams into her.

“You were made for me,” he whispers, lips brushing against her own, swallowing down her moans. “My pretty little wife… made to take my cock.”

A flush forms across her bare chest, the tips of her ears going hot as she whines at his words. She adores how he calls her wife, even as he drills into her, the sounds of their coupling echoing throughout the candlelit chambers, and she can’t help but moan out ‘husband,’ the word saccharine on her tongue. He seems to take pleasure in this, his pace becoming rougher, fingers digging into the flesh of her hips as he sits up on his knees, looking down at her with a dark eye. His sapphire glimmers as the glow of flames dance across it, and she finds herself attracted to the jewel like a moth to a flame, mouth agape as she stares into it, pushing herself up to embrace him again. She grinds down against him, the scratch of his pubic hair rough as she presses herself harder, fingers tracing up the side of his maimed face.

Under her attention, Aemond grows frenzier, ravenous as he thrusts into her, his strong arms wrapped around her back, pressing her close to him. She leans in to kiss him, their mouths slick, her tongue tracing the inside of his mouth, savoring the taste of wine that still lingers. Just as quickly as the last two, her peak begins to rush over her, her moans growing louder as tears begin to dot at the corners of her eyes. He gazes at her face, watching the way her brows furrow, sweat gathered along her hairline, strands of hair stuck to her damp cheeks, and she rests her forehead against his as she clenches down, alight with pleasure, grinding down so her pearl rubs along his navel. His cock twitches within her, and he releases himself with a shudder, keening forward until her back hits the mattress again, hips stuttering as he rides out their highs.

“Are you going to give me a babe, ābrazȳrys? Gonna take my cock every single night until you’re pumped full of my seed, hm? Ñuha dōna byka jelmāzma…” (My sweet little storm).

He rambles on, and she moans and whines as she lays limp, in a daze after peaking three times, her cunt still fluttering as he spills into her, the warmth of his liquid coating her womb. She nods at his words, arms still wrapped around him, sated among the soft sheets and feathered pillows. When he finally finishes, he lays beside her, his cock still nestled within her as he maneuvers her frame until she is on her side, leg across his own, fronts pressed together once more. He embraces her, and she nearly expects him to start thrusting into her again, yet he merely nuzzles against her, skin warm against her own. She has never felt happier, she thinks, as she gazes across at him, eyes trailing along his bare chest, flushing when she looks lower at the sight of his soft cock inside her. His lips quirk into a small smile, barely noticeable, but she basks in it anyway.

“Did I please you, husband?”

A hand brushes against her exposed breasts, fingers circling around a stiff nipple. Her eyes flutter shut at the feeling. “The gods have blessed me with a perfect little wife, my love. I wish to never be parted from you, or this pretty cunt of yours.”

She smiles, a wide grin that makes her cheeks ache. He leans over to kiss her for what seems like the thousandth time that night, and she meets him halfway, her heart swelling within her chest as she holds her husband close. Between her legs, she can feel him begin to harden once again, and her own slick grows as his tongue runs across the edge of her teeth, and she wonders how she was ever afraid of him; this handsome dragon prince who can turn his enemies into ash, but caress her with the softest touch and the sweetest lips. Aemond hums as she begins to move her hips, pulling back to look at him with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“I think we should try again,” she gives him an innocent look, reaching a hand out to dance across his chest. “Just to make sure the seed takes…”

Her laughter bounces off the walls as he sits up, a devious smirk on his face, fingers digging into her sides. It turns into moaning, hips snapping into hers, and she becomes tangled in the sheets, blissful under the hands of her terrifying prince husband.

A/N: i know it’s been so long i am soooo sorry!!!! i kinda just lost inspiration for this lil two-parter, and tbh i kinda really hate how this turned out but it’s been like 4 months and i know a few of u were looking forward to this so… i hope u guys enjoy it nonetheless <3

TAGLIST: @jmablurry @minas27 @veggie-eggrolls @anthonys-viscountess @letmeloveyouuuu @bellaisasleep @blackswxnn @imaginativeworld @littybeech @m1sschanel @ozzeryyyo @beebeechaos @ka1afbr

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen

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