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kitasuno · 1 year ago

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dating the love and deepspace boys | domestic moments

featuring: rafayel, xavier, and zayne x gn!reader

(´• ω •`) ♡ modern au! can you guys tell raf is my favorite..?

rafayel

a year younger than you. lies to everyone (including you) that he’s actually two years your senior. you only found out he was younger than you when you met his parents, who have his birth certificate framed.

hates cats. despises them. they fill him with rage (fear). says he’s allergic (he’s lying).

“oh shit raf, this sucks! i guess you can’t move in with me.. i have cats”

“...you have cats?”

“yeah. 3.”

“i’m not allergic. i can move in tonight.”

chronically online. minoring in marine biology and majoring in annoying you. texts you over 200 times a day and if you don’t respond, he’s faking a horrible chronic illness. again. it’s amnesia on wednesdays, appendicitis on thursdays, chronic migraines on fridays… etc..

he has 2 followers on his private twitter. you and thomas.

over 700k followers on instagram for some reason? he sells paintings on depop (he says it's depop but you’re convinced he sells them for heinous prices on the black market)

cooks on occasion? has an apron that says kiss me im irish (he's not irish?) made you a tuna cupcake once??

pescatarian. not in the vegan/vegetarian way where he refuses to eat red meat but because he’s absolutely feral over fish. (is this cannibalism? he says its not)

lives in a 2 bedroom apartment with you but doesn’t use his bedroom. says your bed is comfier. turned his bedroom into a painting studio (IT’S for the black market you say!!) and sleeps with you.

“raf,” you sigh. “don’t you have.. homework or something?”

he sits between your legs, back against your chest as he scrolls through his phone.

“yeah,” he says. you flick the back of his head because you know he’s smirking. “it’s called assignment: you. due in two minutes.”

with his free hand, he reaches back mindlessly to grab yours. you sigh, fingers intertwining with his, a reflex as he leans his head back. his eyes meet yours and you can’t help but laugh.

“well?” you ask, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he squeezes your hand. “what are the assignment details?”

he chews on the bottom of his lip as he thinks, humming while his eyes wander across your face. he swings your interlocked hands in circles. it’s raining outside, the heater is on, and rafayel is warm like hot chocolate.

“what?” he says, his cheeks a tinge pink. “you’re looking at me like that again.” a pause. he turns, his head now buried in your chest.

“just studying my homework.” you say, hands instinctively wrapping around his back. the laundry machine is running in the background, rain is falling against the window, and you faintly hear your rice cooker dinging in the kitchen. home, you think, is with rafayel.

“i can hear your heartbeat.” he says, voice muffled. “it’s super fast. you like me or something?”

“i really like you.” you say, without skipping a beat. rafayel groans into your chest, sighing in discontent.

“no fair. i’m supposed to be the flirter.”

you press a kiss onto the top of his head and you feel his body melt into yours. the two of you fall into a warm silence, his breath steady as he traces paintings into your neck.

“raf?” you mumble, eyes drooping. he hums in response. “did you pass your assignment?”

he smiles. “with flying colors.”

xavier

chronic napper. (yapper?)

has 100 late assignments. failing all of his classes yet got into the top university in your country because he got a perfect score on his entrance exams. you thought he was a nepo baby (turns out he’s just.. smart?)

his procrastination rubs off on you… he is the WORST distraction and he knows it. so smug about it and uses it to his own advantage. will perch on top of you when you’re studying and kiss down your neck until you go to sleep with him.

lives in the apartment on top of yours but is at your house most days, if not all. you ask him to move in.

“am i not already.. living with you?”

“don’t you still have your apartment, though?”

“yeah..?”

is that good for the economy?? is it financially smart? not at all, but he’s too lazy to move out and put his apartment up for lease.

xavier sleeps with his legs entangled with yours and his arms wrapped tightly around your chest. the air conditioning hums in the background as you scroll mindlessly on your phone, dimming the brightness as you hear xavier stir.

“sorry xav, did i wake you up?” you ask. he doesn’t respond, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he glares at your phone.

“xavier?” you question, swallowing a laugh at his ruffled hair and disheveled clothes.

“phone down.” he says, voice raspy with sleep and an octave lower than usual. you raise an eyebrow at him.

“can i get a pretty please in this economy?”

xavier’s eyes narrow as he snatches your phone away, snoozing the device and placing it on the nightstand next to you. his lips ghost your neck, pressing kisses against your skin as he mumbles incoherently in the dark of your bedroom.

“xavier-” you breathe, giggling at the sensation. “that tickles!”

he nips at your neck.

“bedtime. now.”

zayne

3 years older than you

he literally has his whole life together at 27 which scares you so much

“my credit card is your credit card” typa boyfriend

cooks. cleans. has a 9-5. you’re interning at the hospital that he works at (he’s head doctor!!)

you’re just a sweet little intern and zayne is the big bad monster!! everyone at work thinks he hates you because he’s extra strict on you. doesn’t give you any special treatment, ‘ignores’ you most days (but also slips meals into your locker and hands you heat packs on cold days in the hospital)

no one knows he’s dating you until one day someone sees you leaving in zaynes car.

“oh, you carpool with doctor zayne?”

“huh? no, we live together.”

“you WHAT???”

he’s a virgo……. erm……

the two of you get ready together in the morning. his guard is down when he’s sleepy and he’ll cling to you as he brushes his teeth and does his hair.

you wake up to the cold night breeze, blinking the sleep out of your eyes and shivering as you scan your surroundings. you yelp as you meet the attentive gaze of your boyfriend.

“huh? whuh? huh?” you splutter, squirming as zayne holds you tighter. he’s carrying you bridal style in his arms, his jacket around your shoulders as the two of you walk to his car. you see the bright lights of akso hospital fading away behind the two of you.

“it’s two am,” he says calmly, placing you down gently as he opens your car door for you. “you waited for my shift to end. again.”

you smile bashfully, rubbing the back of your head. “well, i didn’t wanna just leave you!”

zayne clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed but gaze warm. he guides you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt in place.

“you can nap on the way home,” he says, closing the door and sliding into his side of the car.

the heater’s on already- courtesy of his super expensive electric car. he fastens his own seatbelt and hands you a hot tea and bread from the hospital vending machine.

“drink up. doctor’s orders.”

you grin before he leans over to press a kiss on your lips.

“thank you for waiting for me.”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel #xavier #zayne #love and deepspace headcanons #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #love and deepspace fluff

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 months ago

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Forbidden Fruit.

That’s the thing about Declan - he always gets what he wants. It might be wrong… but it feels so right.

declan o’hara x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. use of the c word. age gap. cheating. declan’s filthy mouth needs its own warning.

word count - 2.3k

authors note - that man is a munch and I cannot be convinced otherwise. my crush on aidan turner has returned tenfold and i’m about to make it everyone’s problem. read declan’s dialogue in that gorgeous irish accent of his for the full experience.

masterlist. inbox.

You’ve fake laughed so much this afternoon that you can’t remember what your real one sounds like.

Finally breaking away from a conversation with Freddie’s wife, you swan across the garden in your sundress towards the food and drink table. You absentmindedly pick at the strawberries, hoping and praying that no one bothers you for a moment. All you need is a minute to yourself, away from all of these faux smiles and boastful exchanges.

Reaching towards a raspberry, you feel fingertips ghosting across your back quickly.

“Y’alright?”

You’d recognise that voice anywhere, of course, and not just because he’s the only Irish man in The Cotswolds.

“Bored out of my mind, actually.”

“You’d never know.”

“I’m a good actress, these days. I’ve done one too many of these stupid garden parties.”

He chuckles all genuine and honeyed, and you’d be lying if you said the sound didn’t settle warmly in your bones.

“Whatcha doing tonight?”

He’s keeping his voice low, inconspicuous. You’ve both turned so you’re looking out over the garden, backs to the table, watching the crowds of people and their gossiping. To anyone else, it looks like an innocent conversation between two acquaintances. They can’t see his hand playing with the hem of your dress behind you, or the way his fingers keep brushing the backs of your thighs, sending shivers down your spine.

“My boyfriend is coming over. You know that.”

“What time?”

You roll your eyes but answer anyway.

“Nine.”

“So what I’m hearing… is that you’re available from whenever this crap finishes until then?”

“That’s a stupid idea.”

“You usually love my stupid ideas.”

“Well maybe I’m trying to be smarter.”

He laughs with his full chest while you fight to keep the grin off your face, shaking your head.

“You’re already the smartest person here. Any smarter and we’re all doomed.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Declan.”

He pauses for a moment, pressing his side into yours and running his thumb across the soft skin of your thigh underneath your dress.

“I think we both know that’s not true, sweetheart.”

Your breath stutters as you will yourself to get it together, desperate to not repeatedly give in to his murmured promises and flirty remarks. It’s wrong. You know it is, both of you do, and yet…

“I want you gone by eight at the latest. I don’t need the two of you bumping into each other on my front step.”

He smirks like the cat that got the cream, looking down at you with lust drunk eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Promise to make it worth your while, yeah?”

“You always do,” you breathe out, so quietly that you’re surprised he hears.

He’s about to reply when you’re both startled by Rupert, striding over with the confidence of ten men and a bottle of champagne in his hand.

“Have they run out of glasses, CB?”

He slings an arm around your shoulder, laughing that rich man’s laugh right into your ear.

“Live a little, darling. Walk with me, will you? I have a story that might be worth your time, and I thought I’d bring it to my favourite journalist before anyone else.”

Rupert all but drags you across the garden, already chattering on about a scandal in the local constituency of the Conservative Party. You cast your eyes back to where Declan hasn’t moved, his gaze roving over your figure as you walk away.

He winks cheekily, dirty smirk slapped across his face.

You hate the way it sends electricity running through your veins in anticipation.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

It’s six forty five when there’s a knock on your door.

The devil himself is standing on your front step, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Hi darlin’.”

His accent is like molten honey, golden and warm and laced with sweetness. There’s mischief running through it though - as there always is.

“Come on,” you urge, grabbing his tie and pulling him inside, worried that one of your neighbours will see.

He laughs as he shuts the door behind him, unphased by your urgency.

“Thought you had a meeting. CB was telling me all about it earlier.”

“Rupert would tell you anything,” he chuckles. “He’s got a soft spot for pretty girls.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” you giggle, undoing his tie from around his neck and hanging it on your coat rack.

“No. I have a soft spot for one pretty girl.”

“Sweet talker,” you tease as you roll your eyes, undoing the first few buttons on his shirt. “How about you put your money where your mouth is, hmm? We don’t have all night.”

He clicks his tongue, hands finding your hips to pull you against him.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning in so his lips brush yours. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Less talking,” you scold, grabbing at his biceps to kiss him desperately.

Declan pushes you up against the wall, hips pressing into yours as he slips his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like cigarettes and whiskey and those mints he keeps in a tin in his back pocket. He scatters open mouthed kisses across your neck, licking across your skin and sucking the spot underneath your ear.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he mumbles. “Ever since I saw you in this dress.”

“You like it?” you breathe, head rolling to the side to give him more access.

“I fucking love it.”

“Good. Bought it for you.”

He groans, grinding his hips into yours.

“You’re a minx,” he pants, biting at your shoulder. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

With that, Declan wraps his arms around your middle, practically dragging you into the living room to throw you onto the sofa. He pulls your dress over your head, throwing it onto the floor with reckless abandon.

He instantly gets on his knees in front of you, spreading your legs with rough hands.

“Been waitin’ for this cunt all fuckin’ day.”

Your underwear is tugged down and discarded before you can blink, leaving you naked and high on the anticipation of it all. Your lungs are heaving, hands shaking as you will him to do something.

Declan sits back on his haunches, making a show of rolling up his sleeves. He looks so broad and commanding in his blue jeans with his shirt undone. He might be the one on his knees, but he’s definitely still in charge here.

You tangle your fingers into his dark hair and tug, pulling him closer.

“Please, Dec.”

“You sound so beautiful when ya beg.”

He grips your thighs tightly, ensuring they stay apart, as he leans in and presses kisses to any skin he can find.

“Don’t tease.”

“Or what, hmm? What are ya gonna do, sweetheart?”

“Stop it,” you chastise, head dropping back onto the cushions. “Please, baby.”

He chuckles before diving forwards, licking a stripe through your core. He wastes no time, tongue flicking over your clit like he’s done so many times before.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, fingers gripping his hair tightly. “Fuck, Declan.”

You’re convinced he enjoys this just as much as you do. He’ll eat you out for hours, never once expecting something in return - happy to feel you fall apart on his tongue again and again and again.

He knows exactly which spots will have you arching your back, how much pressure to use to have you writhing on the sofa cushions, where to put his hands to push you right over the edge. He can play you like a fiddle, observant and experienced.

His nose nudges your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, messy and wet and completely committed. The grip he has on your thighs is getting tighter and tighter, fingertips bruising your skin. You pray you’ll be able to see the marks when you look in the mirror tomorrow.

You’re teetering on the edge of your release, legs shaking and abdomen tightening. Declan can read you like a book, knowing exactly where you’re at - and taking advantage of it.

Just as you’re about to come, he pulls away and sits back, grinning like a deviant.

“No,” you’re panting. “The fuck are you doing?”

He laughs, leaning down to rest his head on your leg. He looks up at you with a gaze that’s half lust and half mischief, biting at his lip as he watches your chest heave.

“What do you want, darlin’?”

You pout at him, tears welling in your eyes.

“Come on, let me hear you say it. I want you to beg me to make you come. Tell me how you’ve been waiting for it all day, sweetheart.”

“I-Declan, I just-”

“Come on smart girl, use that big brain of yours. Why don’t you tell me all about how you think about me when you touch yourself? No - why don’t you tell me how you think about me while he fucks you?”

Your hips buck up into the air, desperate for any kind of friction. Declan laughs cruelly, wrapping his arms around your thighs again to pull you to the edge of the sofa, the strength he exerts only turning you on more.

“It’s okay,” he soothes against your core. “You don’t have to tell me. Your dripping wet cunt tells me everything I need to know, darlin.”

All you can do is moan, breathing like you’ve run a marathon. All you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel is Declan O’Hara.

“If we had the time, I’d edge you some more. Eat you out until you cried. You always look so pretty when you’re crying f’me.”

He finally takes pity on you, curling his tongue inside you as his nose repeatedly bumps against your clit. He’s practically making out with your core, saliva dripping down your thighs and onto the sofa. You can’t bring yourself to care about the mess, more focused on the older man’s mouth and the skills it possesses.

You’re whining, fingernails digging into his scalp as you grasp for something to hold onto. He’s groaning too, having just as much as fun as you are.

“Come for me, pretty girl. Show me how fucking beautiful you look.”

Your back bows off the sofa as you grind against his face, riding out your climax. Your thighs tighten around his head, desperate for him to keep going for as long as possible.

“That’s it. Atta girl. There we go.”

You’re trying to catch your breath as Declan stands up, sitting down next to you and pulling you into his side. His fingers draw patterns on your hips, absentmindedly calming you down as you nestle into him, seeking out his body heat.

You lean up and kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth eagerly. He tastes like you, and the realisation makes you whinge.

“Let me return the favour, please,” you whisper against his lips.

“As much as I’d love that, darlin’… we can’t.”

You quirk a brow at him in confusion, his rejection more than unusual.

“It’s twenty past eight.”

“Oh, shit,” you groan, finding your underwear and pulling them up your legs.

“I wish I could stay,” he reassures as he kisses you again sweetly. “You know I do.”

You nod, running your fingers through his sweat soaked locks to move them out of his face.

“Promise I’ll repay you next time.”

“I’ll hold ya to that.”

The phone ringing startles you both, your heart jumping in your chest. You pick it up quickly, wrapping the cord around your finger.

“Hello? How are you? Ah, good. Yes, fine. Alright, I’ll see you then. Yes, see you soon. Mhmm… I can’t wait either.”

You put it down just as quickly as you picked it up, finding your dress from the floor and pulling it over your head.

“That was Patrick. He’s at the train station, about to start the drive back here. He won’t be long.”

“I best get going then,” Declan says as he buttons up his shirt. “Don’t need a family reunion in your living room now, do we?”

You shake your head, scoffing at his attempt at a joke. Walking him to the front door, you press his tie from the coat rack into his hand so he doesn’t forget it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I? You’re coming for lunch at the house?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you say as you lean up to kiss him, sighing at the taste of his lips. “I’ll wear that lacy white lingerie under my dress just for you.”

“Great,” he groans. “Now I have to think about my son seeing that on you when it should be me.”

“You might,” you tease, smoothing out his shirt. “There’s a lot of rooms in that house, Declan.”

“You’re a minx.”

He kisses you once more, big hands cradling your face as he pulls you in.

“See ya tomorrow, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you will.”

You watch him go from your front step, making sure no one sees him leave. As soon as he’s out of sight, you’re shutting the door, trying to tidy the living room frantically. You open the windows, lighting a candle and picking up everything that was knocked to the floor in the lust filled frenzy. You’re covering your tracks as best you can, just like you’ve done countless times before.

You don’t need Patrick asking why the room smells like his dad’s aftershave.

You don’t need Patrick asking questions at all.

a little gift for you, as promised…

@do-it-for-kicks @whytheylosttheirminds @laverna-fanfictions @graceflorence

and of course, if you enjoyed this - throw me a little reblog if you so wish… help a girl out… <3

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nialljamesxo · 7 months ago

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@scbrinasannlynn

That's that Niall espresso | Bangor

#* . ⊹ irish eyes are smiling ⊹ › niall #// what a dummyyy

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ozarkthedog · 2 months ago

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𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐀𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

summary: Declan introduces you to a friend.

pairing: Declan O’Hara x afab!reader / Rupert Campbell Black

warnings: 18+ mdni. filth. unspecified age gap. oral sex (m). Declan calls the shots. fingering. edging. no m/m. slight anal play. dirty talk. squirting. rough sex. Rupert pushing the boundaries aka he’s a menace. cuckhold of sorts. male masturbation. cream pie. light, barely there after care. ep 8 spoilers. w.c: 2.4k

author’s note: i'm a Declan girlie but I had to write something feat. Rupert.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Soft golden rays bleed through the aged windows of the O'Hara estate. Its owner, Declan, sits comfortably on a worn chair in the middle of his study. Books and papers litter the room, even on the small sofa adjacent to the chair. As the fireplace crackles, the bright orange flames warm your skin as you kneel naked between your employer's thighs.

Declan groans as he feeds you his cock. His thighs widen, as much as his unzipped trousers will allow, on the tattered chair, giving you more room to swallow him down. His heart beats steadily under his lush brown sweater as you suckle his cock while looking up at him under your lashes.

Declan enjoyed times like these when the house was empty, and he got you all to himself. With Maud gone, leaving everything to Taggie was unfair, so he caved and hired a housekeeper. Little did he realize he'd fall head over heels for you.

You both took your time dancing around one another like nervous teenagers at a school dance. Harmless flirting and late-night conversations over the meals you'd cook for him led to Declan taking matters into his own hands.

He was used to control. He enjoyed it, really. The power felt comfortable, and he had no issue wielding it.

Declan was still on edge one day after a trifling day at Coriniuim. His usual soak and cig in the tub wasn't helping. The radio was blasting ear-aching songs, and the water was getting too cold too fast, but that all changed when you walked in on him with an armful of fresh towels.

He took a chance, one that could've ended with him locked up, but you didn't run. You followed his dubious commands and let him exert his dominance, allowing him to reign over you.

Since then, you two have been inseparable.

"Ah, right on time," Declan notes, looking at the clock perched on the mantle in his study as the large front door creaks open.

Declan mentioned inviting a friend over earlier in the day, but you didn't think he meant now.

The sight of your wide doe eyes makes his gut fervently twist. He's always appreciated someone yearning after what was his, especially an individual so well-loved by the women of Rutshire.

"Don' stop, Love," Declan instructs. His Irish accent dips low as he curls a solid hand around your head when you start to draw back. Your wary, garbled sounds vibrate Declan's cock eliciting a hiss from his lips. He sends you a pensive look and keeps you locked as the steps draw near. "You know I like people ta watch, but I wan' to try somethin' new."

Your heart lodges in your throat. Declan had divulged this kink not long after the two of you began dating. It was harmless fun flirting with other men while Declan observed from the shadows like a deviant; the journalist grew feral until he could no longer hold himself back, scurrying off with you in his arms, leaving the poor target in a stupor.

No one could ever come close to Declan; you never want them to.

"I seem to have come at a rather inconvenient time, have I not?" A pondering English baritone fills the room.

Rupert Campbell Black.

With arms crossed, the affluent man leans on the rustic doorframe. He catches your uneasy gaze with a cheeky smile, prompting a wildfire in your belly.

Declan shakes his head, his thick mustache ticking excitedly, "Not at all. Come in."

You try to move again, but Declan doesn't budge an inch. Your brows knot in confusion as your hands fly to cover your exposed bits as best you can.

"Say hello, ta Rupert, Swee'heart," Declan instructs, his dark chestnut eyes alight with devilry.

Your gaze trails from the man's supple leather loafers and pressed lined slacks to the sepia colored dress shirt that exposes a svelte chest as the top two buttons are undone. Rupert oozes high society and overt confidence, the kind of man you'd go dumb even looking at.

"My, my, where has Declan been hiding you?" Rupert croons. His azure orbs fixate with dark intrigue at your naked, shivering form.

As you greet Declan's neighbor, a slight garbled noise barely registers to the men. Tauntingly, Rupert leans over and puts a hand behind his ear, "Sorry, Angel. What was that?"

Your belly flips, and butterflies flutter carelessly in the wake of being so degraded. Still, your cunt produces a wave of arousal and clenches around nothing.

Knowing he doesn't have much patience, you chance another look at Declan and wish you hadn't. His white teeth bared, and his lips pulled back into a light sneer, like a wolf facing down prey, waiting for you to heed his command.

Declan bites back a moan at the hedonic sensation of you stringing together a messy greeting for the affluent man.

Rupert snickers. "Aren't you cute."

"Thatta' girl." He praises before thrusting his length into your throat and cutting off your air.

He waits for a beat, relishing in the watery glaze that coats your eyes and how your chest heaves. Fidgety hands dig into his darkened slacks, knocking the loose ends of his belt. Drool spills down your chin and settles at the base of his cock.

"Ya know ya waited too long ta give Rupert a warm welcome." He fumes, his expression twisting lightly with displeasure.

With a soft growl, Declan eases his grip. You fall back on your heels, a blight, coughing up spittle and trying to suck down fresh air at the same time.

"Might I say, you've got a real treasure here," Rupert leers down at your messy face and spit-soaked breasts that make your nipples shine in the light. "Lovely to meet your acquaintance."

"Though' you migh' like a taste." Declan offers, looking up at Rupert like you weren't perched at their feet, anxiously awaiting their next move.

"Would I ever." A Cheshire grin tugs at Rupert's lips. He makes a show of folding his button-down sleeves over his muscular forearms as he stalks around you.

Declan beckons you with the tilt of his head, "C'mere, Love. I ain't done wit' your mouth."

You sniffle before taking your place between his knees once more. Declan can sense your worry as Rupert traces a finger down your spine while he crouches behind you. "Don' worry abou' him. He won' do anythin' out of line."

Declan taps his bulbous crown against your swollen lips, drawing your attention away from the blue-eyed beau. His sturdy thighs are a protective shield, enveloping you like a fortress from harm.

As curious fingers tickle your sticky thighs, your lips part with a gasp, allowing Declan to thrust into your warm, wet mouth.

"Jesus Christ, she's soaked." Rupert husks as he softly skims your glistening folds. Your cunt throbs from his unfamiliar touch, coursing a frightening spark of arousal up your spine.

"She's not 'ad much experience." Declan hisses as his crown breaches the tight confines of your throat. Your hand tugs at the thick base that's peppered with dark curls, fingers barely overlapping, pumping in time with his languid thrusts across your tongue.

"You don't say." The Englishman trails off, no doubt thinking of all the crude ways he could defile you.

As you start a slow rhythm, bouncing your head up and down Declan's cock, making the older man unashamedly moan, Rupert swipes his fingers across your seam and gathers all your shiny slick, drawing it up to your clit before lazily circling the tender bud.

Bright lights erupt under your eyelids. Blood rushes south, pooling in your core, heightening your suffocating lust as your body bends to his will.

"Ah ah, Angel." Rupert tsks, grabbing hold of your wriggling hips. His grasp keeps you stock still, unable to evade his voracious touch.

The pads of Declan's fingers press into your scalp as a soft warning. "Be good ta Rupert."

Being pushed and pulled between the two older men was agony of the luscious kind. You only knew of Declan's touch, the succulent highs and lows. The amorous sublime.

A gentle hand glides over your ass before massaging the plump cheek. Your frantic cries are a mumbled mess as you're pushed higher and higher into the pleasurable abyss from Rupert's caress.

He winds two fingers into your core, cursing from your tightness, and splays his dexterous digits along your walls. His thumb lands square on your clit, swiping back and forth with prowess. "So sweet and responsive. Such a good girl." he curls his fingers along your walls, drawing pathetic noises from your chest.

Your body rolls like waves, back and forth between the two men. Rupert's teeth sink into the tender skin of your ass before a gentle tongue soothes the marks and trails down the valley of your cheeks, causing you to choke around Declan's cock.

A wad of spit lands directly on your rosebud just before a wicked tongue ravishes the tight, untouched hole.

Your belly drops at his vulgar touch. No one ever touched you there before. A heavy wave of arousal slips from your cunt as you fight the urgent need for release. Rupert moans hungrily as he laps the rim of your ass.

Your incessant wriggling alerts Declan to Rupert's perverted actions.

"What'd I say, ya daft cunt?" Declan fumes. His mustache twitches as he shoots daggers at the man posed behind you.

Rupert swirls his tongue one final time before leaving your rosebud with a loud pop. "Sorry, chap. I forgot you haven't filled all her holes yet." The tug of his lips says otherwise.

Declan mumbles under his breath and leans back in his chair, focusing on you. "What'a fuckin' sight," he grunts, yanking your tear-coated face off his girth. His large hand completely cups the side of your face, making you feel like a doll with glossy, swollen lips as he stares at you like a man possessed.

Rupert twists his wrist, and your eyes grow wide as saucers. The need to come moves to the forefront of your mind. Declan can tell you're fighting, doing everything you can to hold back as you're slowly dragged to the edge.

Your jaw goes slack, and eyelids flutter; you're willing to endure any repercussions for coming without approval, but then Declan stamps your orgasm out just as quickly as it started.

"No, no, no. Don' be greedy," he tsks, shoving your dumbstruck face back down onto his length.

With Declan's cock stretching your lips and drooling pre cum over your taste buds and Rupert curling his fingers into the spongy spot behind your clit, your nerves scream for release.

The insides of your thighs are soaked, slick from want and a need held so close yet so far away. A soft cry falls from your spit-stained lips as Declan snatches your head off his cock and curves a large hand under your chin, holding you like a precious piece of art.

His opaque orbs sweep across your face, wild and feral; he's on the edge of breaking but holds steady like the stubborn man he is.

"Come on, Declan, let the girl come," Rupert implores to the stoic man holding captive your utmost pleasure.

The corner of Declan's lips tilts. He knows what'll happen. He can see it in your face, how truly gone you are, how nearly close the dam is to breaking.

"Go on, show 'im what he's missin', Swee'heart." Declan encourages, finally allowing you the taste you've wanted all this time.

Your body writhes in their combined hold with unkempt ecstasy as a ravenous cry fills the large study. You come like a geyser, locking like a vice around Rupert's fingers, forcing a curse from his lips as you coat his wrist and trousers with your creamy release.

"Jesus-" Rupert moans, dark and depraved, watching with rabid fascination as your core pulses in time to the beat of his heart.

Declan gathers you into his arms, away from the still man, propping your knees on either side of his thighs. "Sit on the couch and watch," he orders a dumbstruck Rupert before easing you down on his swollen cock.

A whimper catches in your throat from the obscene stretch as his girth widens your channel for the first time that day. Declan grabs your ass and steadily bounces you on his length, helping you rise and fall since your legs have turned to jelly.

"Gone so dumb, ya can' even move," Declan mocks. Coarse whiskers chafe your skin as he nibbles your chin, pouring filthy praises against your jaw, "Still so tight. Maybe two cocks'll do the trick," he drives his girth into your exhausted body. "Wan' your pretty cunt gapin' fa' me."

The seam of his brown sweater grazes your clit on every thrust; the fibers are soft yet overstimulating, your body boils, on the verge of combusting, and there's nothing you can do.

A low moan catches your attention, dragging you from your frenzied state. As you turn your head to find the strange noise, you see Rupert with his swollen cock in his hand, barely out of his trousers. His cock weeps, the bulbous tip pulsing red, while he sucks your juices off his glistening fingers like a man starved for days.

His animalistic gaze bores into where you and Declan connect. You can imagine how obscene it is. Declan's sticky balls thwap immorally against your ass. Sticky sounds bounce off the walls as he draws more slick from your core, staining the base of his cock in a creamy ring.

Rupert's eyes flit to yours. You silently mouth his name, playing with the man who's used the women of Rutshire like a kid with infinite toys. The subtle action pushes the posh man over the edge.

Biting his knuckles, Rupert spills over his other set with a ragged string of grunts. The image sets off a chain reaction. You follow suit, crying as you come around Declan's cock, and dragging your other half with you. Declan's thick brows furrow, groaning his ecstasy as he fills you with ropes of white.

The three of you gradually come down from the hedonistic scene. Your hearts beat to their natural rhythm as the birds outside sing a dusk setting song.

"T'was lovely to meet you, Angel," Rupert flirts, cleaning his cock with a handkerchief before tucking himself into his trousers. "Hope to see you again real soon."

"Fuck off, Rupert," Declan quips, jutting his chin toward the door.

Rupert sends you a wink before rounding the couch and exits with the fattest smile you've ever seen.

Declan mumbles under his breath and curls his arms around you. He tucks your head under his chin, letting you unwind comfortably before the crackling fire.

"Was that okay, Swee'heart?" Declan's asks with softened eyes.

With a satisfied sigh, you snuggle deeper into his hold, seeking the warmth and protective embrace he can only give. "More than."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

#declan o’hara #rupert campbell black #rivals #rivals 2024 #declan o'hara x reader #declan o'hara x you #rupert campbell black x you #rupert campbell black x reader #aiden turner #alex hassell

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nialljamesxo · 2 months ago

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Niall Horan and Olivia O'Brien attending the wedding of Elizabeth Lail & Jason Sudeikis in Woodstock, New York on December 8th, 2024. / @oliviagails

#* . ⊹ irish eyes are smiling ⊹ › niall #* . ⊹ your touch is made of something heaven can't hold a candle to ⊹ › olivia #sudakissesmwarried #hollywoodfameevent

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redcherrykook · 7 days ago

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──── ๋࣭ ⭑ irish coffee ! ( s & c )

‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿

↳ part of 𝓦𝓗𝓘𝓢𝓚𝓔𝓨 ꩜ .ᐟ

❝ [ husband!Jungkoook universe] ¡! ❞

✎ summary: a whiskey fueled coffee cocktail thats the perfect mix of caffeine and numbness to relieve your stress

or- jungkook eats you out because you're overworked. kisses, body worship, comforting jungkook

note from cherry: #needthat also... surpirse!! (not proofread)

‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿

the front door of your house - shared, freshly furnished house- slams shut.

"rough day baby?" your husband asks, painted in the light of your kitchen's illuminating bulb, a small scowl runs through your expression

"horrible. everyone is late on deadlines and i'm being blamed for not having the reports ready" you sigh, ridding yourself of the thick winter coat that's appropriate to shield you from seoul's januruary tempretures

his steps grow closer, as you set your shoes aside, jungkook's large palms find the curve of your hips,

"you need a break ma, been doin' so much" he mutters, rubbing up and down your figure with care,

"gonna let me take care of you won't you?" content sighs leave your lips while his dance along your jawline, creating a trail down to your delicate neck, skilming the soft skin with healing open mouth kisses

"hm.. want you to relax" he adds, the cold metal reminder of your joined life grazes your cheekbone, his knuckles soothing that stressed look into lust- love, and slowly everything bad evaporates into nothingness

"c'mon, jump f'me baby" following, he grabs your thighs, wrapping them around his hips, immediately he walks toward your bedroom, big round eyes growing darker in their chocolate brown, desire floods him- the desire to please you, relieve your worries into moans of his name

"you're so good to me" you speak for the first time since his hands landed on you, watching his pierced lip curl into a small smile, your now bra clad back meets the cotton cushions,

"gotta be, you're my wife, my precious lil' wifey" you chuckle softly- letting him feel up all over you, wandering to caress every tense inch of you- shoudlers, arms, hips, stomach, chest and soon you can't even remeber what you were so stressed about- not when he unclips your bra and takes your nipple in between his lips

"kook.." you trail off, closing your lids to feel the extend of his love, he flicks his tongue over it- rolling the pebbled nub with his wet muscle to hear your little moan. simultaneously his fingers take the other swell into his hands, rubbing it gently,

"such a pretty girl baby.. so perfect" the air blown out of his words raises tingles on your skin, jungkook takes his time to love on you, addicted to watching your lips part after he flicks harder, captivated by the whine of his name whe he pinches the opposite nipple in his fingers

"need to take good care of this beautiful body baby, hear me?" now kissing down the valley between your breasts, his gaze finds your half lidded eyes, "mhm.." you hum in response,

"yeah? gonna kiss and soothe every ache of yours ma, make you feel so good" he whispers, gliding his tongue along with the slow, intense kisses that find your stomach, his hands accompany them by grazing his fingers along your waistline, down to rub small circles on your hips

your fingers fly into his dark hair in a heartbeat- the real ache now pulsating between your legs, drooling with the need to be cared for, "baby.. feels so good" you tell him, fixated on his button nose that presses against your panty covered clit, nuzzling into it with his eyes closed in pleasure

"you're so perfect, my poor thing, so stressed.. gonna let your husband take care of you hm? make you cum and let it all go?" you moan is answer enough for him, he continues to suck and kiss further down, on your right thigh, caressing the left.

jungkook groans in satisfaction with every slow, heated kiss that leaves wet trails on you, inching further to the evident stain on your panties, he can smell your arousal, his cock twitches at the smell of it, so so needy, so ready to be loved

"my hands feel good on you baby? like how i kiss all your worries away?"

"being so good for me, letting me love all on this gorgeous body"

"way too cute to be stressed like this"

he mutters while finally pushing the soaked tiny piece of fabric down your thighs, it pools at your ankles, collecting there to reveal your seashell

he bites into his pink bottom lip to supress a loud moan that would have escaped at the sight- so dewy, clit so puffy and loud for attention that he wastes no time giving in to

"fuck kook, just like this" you can't help but praise the way his tongue runs flat against your clit, slowly flicks at it with the tip only to lapp up everything that's spiling from your folds, teasing you as much as he is patient- takes his sweet sweet time to lazily circle your clit, suck at it only with a little amount of pressure

its driving you crazy, oh so crazy how good his sensual groans vibrate on your skin,

"mhmm.. taste so sweet baby" he speaks into you, bringing his large palms to hook your legs over his shoulders without the time to register his change of heart- he's burrying his tongue inside of your cunt, licking fat stripes up to flick your clit faster, harder and goes right back to fucking you with his tongue

"shit- shit yes yes oh-" you ramble, clenching your eyes so tight you can feel the sparks of color appear right in front of you, the loud buzzing inside your eardrums had long dissolved into fragments of jungkook's pleasure, now going to quiet down every nerve in your body- with the exception of the ones hes sucking on while having burried two of his long digits into your tightness

"gonna come for me aren't you baby? make a mess on my fingers?" he asks, strumming your insides with deep strokes that refrence a "come here" motion, you nod pathetically between the parting of your lips and breathy- barely audible whines that are tumbling out senselessly

"yeah? you will? what a good girl.. come on, let it all go" his soft bur growly words of encouragement are enough for you to collapse into exctasy at the next deep stroke and hungry kiss to your sensitive clit, he lets you feel it all out, slowing down his pace until your thighs have returned to normal, until he can see your pretty- big eyes innocently staring down at him

he withdraws his fingers entirely, immediately shoving them down his mouth to gather your relieve in his mouth, humming contently as it hits him

"did so good f'me ma" jungkook rasps, patting your thighs with his hands before pulling you on top of his hard chest, nestling one of his fingers to your scalp,

"you have a way to make everything easier. even if its sometimes.. well, this" you giggle shyly, rubbing the tip of your nose to his neck- the scent of belonging floats into your mind

"yeah? so you feel better hm?" he questions- leaving a kiss to the top of your head, his other arm secures you even closer to him as he smiles- "so much better. why was i tense again?"

jungkook laughs in that silly chuckle that you feel in love with long ago,

"exactly. wanna take a bath and watch your show? the 4th season just came out"

you wouldn't wanna be married to anyone else.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook x y/n #redcherrykook #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #𝓦𝓗𝓘𝓢𝓚𝓔𝓨 ꩜ .ᐟ #husband!jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff

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mountainsandmayhem · 1 month ago

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Merry Christmas, Little Dove

18+. Minors, Do Not Interact

Summary: You and Joel celebrate your Christmas tradition. OR Joel fucks you in front of the Christmas tree.

WC: 3.7k of straight filth

AN: this is not proofread or beta read, so just take it like the good girl you are 😉 Headers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

TW: multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names, unprotected P-in-V (relax they’re both in their 40’s and in a long term relationship), one single slap, two drops of spit, oral (both ways), mentions of alcohol consumption

Main Masterlist || More of Joel & Little Dove

You watch the way his soft, dark green t-shirt stretches against his muscle-lined back as he places the gifts under the tree. The house is quiet, and both your daughters are asleep in their childhood bedrooms. The living room is basked in the warm glow of only the tree and electric fireplace. Joel is meticulously putting presents out, completely focused on his role as Santa Claus. This is one of the things you love most about your partner. He might have this tough, grumpy exterior, but he’s never been afraid to exude the Christmas spirit. When Ellie and Sarah were young, he would spend hours driving from store to store to find exactly what they wanted. He’d stayed up all night once building Sarah’s Barbie dream house and Ellie’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pizza parlour so they’d be surprised in the morning.

You smile to yourself over the years and years of memories in this room, and the smile is bigger knowing your college-aged daughters still want to come home for Christmas with mom and dad. You tiptoe over to the record player, putting on Joel’s favourite Frank Sinatra Christmas vinyl. As the soft tones of ‘I’ll Be Home For Christmas’ filter from the speakers Joel stands and turns to face you.

“Hi, baby. Where’s the girls?”

“I think someone got a little heavy-handed with the whiskey in the hot toddies,” you say with a raise of an eyebrow. He smirks, closing the distance between the two of you as he pulls you in to slow dance with him. “You might have two hungover daughters tomorrow morning.”

Your body meets his and need floods your system almost immediately. He smells like cedar and whiskey, his large palm rests on your lower back and you sway along with him.

“I’ll make them an Irish coffee tomorrow and they’ll be good as new. Besides, you and I wouldn’t be able to do our Christmas tradition if they were awake.”

“Joel Miller,” you say with a shocked laugh. “Did you do this on purpose?”

“Perhaps,” he smirks down at you, his dimple on full display as his eyes darken with arousal.

“Devious,” you whisper before his lips sponge against yours. Truthfully, it’s been years since the two of you did your actual Christmas tradition. When the girls were younger, after all the gifts were under the tree and the cookies were eaten, Joel would turn out all the lights and then strip you bare in front of the tree and fuck you softly. But when the girls became teens it was too risky to just fuck out in the open like that.

Joel’s hands come to your waist pulling at the black shirt you have tucked into your high-waisted jeans. You squeak as he pulls. “What kind of witchcraft is this?” He jokes between kisses when the shirt doesn’t come out.

You giggle against his mouth, “It’s a bodysuit.”

“Mmm, with the little snaps where my Christmas present is?” His voice is lower and more seductive now.

“Yes, sir.” You say, the shift in the air between you two makes it hard to breathe.

Joel makes slow work of the button and the zipper on your jeans before lowering you to the ground. The slow sounds of Frank Sinatra are somewhere in the background, but at this moment all you can see, hear and feel is your beautiful partner above you, kissing anywhere he can reach.

He raises on his knees and tugs your jeans off, guiding your feet to fall on each side of him, then pulls his shirt over his head. The glow of the tree turns his body into a work of art. The dips of his muscles along his chest and shoulders are darker, making him look bigger than he is. Your hands reach towards the button of his jeans but he grabs your wrists to stop you.

“Not yet, little dove,” Joel’s voice is a scratchy whisper as he leans forward, pinning your hands above your head. “Stay like this for me, ok?”

You nod and hum out an agreeable sound before he sits back up, his warm, rough fingers trailing along your covered arms, breasts, and stomach as he comes to rest on his heels. Your breaths quicken at the sight of him and then stop altogether as he runs a finger along the gusset of your body suit.

“Gods you’re so beautiful, baby.” He whispers it like a hymn like you’re the deity he prays to, and you know you’re about to be worshipped.

“I need you,” you moan, clenching your fists to stay in his desired position.

“Do ya now?” Joel smiles softly, his finger grazing at your clit through your clothing. “Tell me what you want.”

“Take the rest of my clothes off and fuck me all slow and gentle until I come and then fill me up.” It’s a whispered request.

His finger hooks through the bodysuit and you gasp, then grind your hips to try to get him to touch you where you need it most. His eyes widen and the feel of your soaked pussy along the back of his knuckle. “Did you attend our wholesome Christmas Eve family dinner without any panties on, little dove?”

You bite down on your bottom lip as your cheeks flush pink. “Yes.”

With the flick of his finger the snaps on your bodysuit open. “Naughty girl.”

You lift your hips so he can slide the body suit up, which he does until your lacy red bra is exposed, but he’s much too preoccupied looking at your completely bare pussy. “Something looks different here,” he says with an eyebrow raised.

You feel shy all of a sudden, butterflies bursting in your stomach. When the two of you were in your twenties this was standard, but as you both got older you started leaving more hair. Joel never complained, now you’re worried he doesn’t like it.

“I got it waxed for you.”

He licks his lips before looking up at you. “Little dove, you know you don’t have to do that, right? I love your pussy just as much when it isn’t shaved.”

“I know,” you say, bringing your knees together nervously.

“Whoa, not so fast,” his hands come to your knees, pressing them apart. “I just want you to know that before I go down and don’t come up. Because this was my plan either way. I’m going to lick your perfect pussy until you pry me off. And then I’m going to fuck you so slowly, and only when you’re begging for it am I going slam into you until you come.”

The silence between you is thick with arousal before you croak, “Colour system?”

Joel lowers his body to the ground. His warm breath hits your soaked cunt as he speaks. “Yes, little dove. What do you say if you want to stop?”

“Red,” your hips lift closer to his mouth, and he presses down against your hips with one of his forearms and tuts at you.

“And if you need a break or for me to slow down?”

“Yellow,” you whine.

He slides his forearm to the side, placing his warm hand on your mount and pulls back slightly to expose your clit. “Look at you, little dove. So wet and perfect. Give me a colour.”

Goosebumps break out across your skin and you sink into the floor, wholly submitting to Joel as you whisper, “Green.”

Joel’s lips come to your center kissing your clit lightly before he dives in. Licking long hot lines from the bottom of your pussy to the top. Your hands fly to hair, carding through the girls and he groans at the slight pain in his scalp as you tug.

“Oh god, fuckfuck,” you chant out along with his name as he pulls a quick orgasm out of you almost immediately.

“Already, little dove?” He asks, smirking between licks.

“You feel so good. Joel.”

He continues to taste you, now focusing just on your clit with the flat of his tongue. He applies just the right amount of pressure and circles your sensitive bud slowly. You arch your back off the floor as a tingling pleasure starts to build.

“I’m gonna come again, baby.” You gasp, keeping your voice low even though you want to scream.

He keeps doing exactly as he has been, knowing you’re loving it and soon you fall apart for him again. The waves of this orgasm are stronger and you try to squirm out of his grasp as you come down from high.

“Too much. S’too much,” it’s almost a cry.

Joel pins your hips down again, and with his broad shoulders between your legs you can’t close them. “One more, little dove. You can give me one more.”

“No, please. Fuck me now. I can’t.” You’re practically panting and the mixture of the pleasure and the hot totty from earlier has your skin on fire.

His free hand comes between your legs. He gathers your arousal with his ring and middle fingers, effectively turning you into a writhing, moaning mess before slipping his fingers deep inside you and sucking your puffy clit between his lips.

You slide your feet closer to your body and try to squeeze your thigh shut. It’s no use, you could clamp Joel’s head between them like an MMA fighter but that wouldn’t stop him and you know it.

“Relax,” he murmurs before suckling on your clit again.

“Fuck me, god. So good.” You’re sure that’s what you say but at this point, you can barely form a thought.

He taps his finger along the front wall a few times before hooking them forward. Pleasure overwhelms you and you go boneless. Your knees fall open, your hands all from his hair and your eyes shut. This is how Joel likes you. Pliable. Agreeable. Completely his.

“There’s my pretty little dove,” he admires and flicks his wrist up and down to taunt your g spot while sucking harder on your clit.

Pressure builds at the base of your spine and you mumble how good it feels. It takes all the strength you can muster but you get yourself up on your elbows to push Joel’s finger in deeper and within seconds the pressure snaps and every fiber of your being is lit ablaze as you come for a third.

“Joel, fuuuuuck. Yes, mmmmm, oh god.”

He lets out a quiet, devious laugh and it vibrates against your pussy, causing another strong wave of your orgasm to flood your system. You need him to stop but never want him to stop at the same time. Your hips grind on their own as you come down. Joel knows your body better than anyone so he stops moving; just keeps his finger crooked forward and his tongue pressed to your clit and lets you take what you need.

The whimper that leaves your lips as you slow your hips is his cue to stop teasing your clit. He pulls back and whispers up at you.

“You’re so beautiful when you fall apart like that. My naughty little dove. Right in front of Santa Claus and everything, hmm?”

“Fuck me, Joel. Please. I need to feel you inside me.”

He slips his fingers out slowly as he crawls up your body. His wet fingers come to your lips.

“Suck,” he commands, “But don’t swallow.”

Eagerly you suck his fingers into your mouth, lapping up your heady sweetness and letting it rest on your tongue. Joel slips his fingers from your lips and kisses you, ducking your tongue into his mouth and swallowing your arousal. You both moan in tandem, and as if his kiss has put you under some sort of spell you’re on the verge of coming again at just the feel of his strong body on top of yours. He breaks the kiss and then winces.

You stifle a laugh, “I guess we aren’t in our twenties anymore, are we?”

“No,” he huffs. “But that’s not going to stop me from fucking you on the floor tonight.”

You scratch your fingers through his soft, short beard. Admiring the way it’s more grey than just a few months ago.

“Why don’t you let me get on top, sir.” You soften your expression and bat your eyelashes, knowing he’s usually powerless under your puppy dog eyes.

He shifts his weight above you to his other knee; the left one, and you know that because it’s the one that bothers him less.

“You gonna listen when you’re up there?” His eyes darken as he says it. You aren’t sure what kind of punishment he could come up with the girls being home for the next two weeks, but you aren’t about to find out.

“Yes, sir,” you say with your voice full of sweetness. He rolls the two of you and you land on top of him with a quiet squeak. His legs part to make room for you between them. You already know what’s coming next.

“Take my cock out, little dove.” His voice a husky growl.

You sit up between his thighs, resting on your heels. Before following his demands, you reach for your bodysuit and slowly peel it off your body and over your head. He presses his lips together to stop the smile.

“No panties and that see-through red bra I love so much? Was someone planning to get fucked tonight?”

You trail your fingers along the cups of your bra, your nipples hardening at attention through the fabric. “Maybe,” you wink.

Joel sits up so quickly that it startles you, the strong muscles behind his soft tummy rippling as he does it. His hands wrap around your wrists and through gritted teeth he commands, “Then take out my fucking cock, little dove. Get it nice and wet. Then, when I tell you to, sit on it and stay still like a good little girl until I tell you what to do.”

You go to kiss him but he lays back down with his hands behind his head and a cock smile on his face. You’re panting, you’re not sure when that happened. You lick your lips and your hands fly to the button of his jeans. Undoing it with shaky hands and then pull at the zipper. He’s rock-hard behind his black boxers. He shifts his hips so you can tug the jeans and his underwear down to sit just below his ass. His cock springs free and you don’t waste a single second, grabbing it by the base and lowering your face towards him. He watches you intensely.

“That’s it. Get it nice and wet, baby. Gotta make sure he can slide into that tight, little pussy of yours.”

You stop your lips mere inches from the tip of his leaking cock and look up at him. Without breaking eye contact you let saliva fall from your mouth and land on his cock. You clock the way his breathing halts as he watches it fall from your velvety lips to his aching cock, and the way he shudders an exhale as it runs down his shaft to your hand. You do it again, this time smiling up at him and then biting your bottom lip and the spit makes its sensual trail from his tip to your hand.

“Suck my cock, little dove. Now.”

Your lips are around his cock in an instant, sliding down as deep as you can go and holding it there. You breathe through your nose and let saliva pool in your cheeks before sliding up to the tip, coating his shaft with your spit. When you reach the top, you flick your tongue along the bottom ridge.

Joel groans, “Such a good listener.”

The praise washes over you, encouraging you to repeat your previous motion. You press him deeper this time, stopping when you feel him at the back of your throat.

“Fuck, little dove.” Joel’s voice is rough but full of admiration.

As your saliva starts to leak from your lips you pull back slowly, swirling your tongue along every ridge and vein that line the bottom of his cock. Your eyes meet his again as your tongue rounds the tip of his dick, the salty tang of his pre cum floods your system like a drug.

“Sit,” he accentuates the T and you scramble to straddle him.

You put your right knee on the floor, bending your left leg up so you can put your foot on the floor. This position saves one of your knees and you can usually get better leverage in a half squat versus a straddle. One of his hands comes to your right hip, the other wraps around his cock, holding it steady as you line yourself up.

The thick head prods at your entrance and you moan as you slide down the first few inches. “So good, Joel.”

“Mm-hmm, you have been good. Keep going, baby.” He releases his grip from his cock so you can take more of him. “That’s my girl. Taking it so well.”

You breathe through the stretch as your hips settle against his, then lean back to rest your hands on his muscle-packed thighs.

“Little dove, tell me how it feels.”

“Mmmm, so full,” you half whine, half pant.

He flexes his hips forward slightly at the neediness in your tone. “Gotta relax for me before you can move.”

His thumb comes to brush your clit. A small sob escapes your throat, “M’trying to.”

“I know, baby,” he coos, his thumb barely touching you as he circles it along your swollen clit. “You’re doin’ so good. Just breathe, little dove. Make room for my cock in that pretty little pussy of yours.”

You make a conscious effort to relax; unclenching your jaw and then letting your shoulders fall. Your head lulls back, the star on top of the tree and the smell of pine needles surrounds you. A fresh wave of arousal floods between your thighs and the pinch of him turns to pleasure.

“Good job, little dove. Are you ready to move?”

“Please. Oh gods. Please!”

“Sshhh, you’re ok. Nice and slow, honey.” His hand on your hip guides you back and forth. The motion is almost infinitesimal, but the forward rocking puts pressure on your g-spot and the thumb that still hovers about your clit. “Eyes on me now, baby.”

You tilt your chin down until your sparkling eyes meet his dark ones. He continues, “Can you do as you're told?”

You nod as a breathy plea leaves your lips, “Yes, sir. I will. Please, it feels so good.”

“I want you to ride me until you’re right on the edge of coming and then stop. Can you do that?”

“No,” you whine. “Why? I wanna come. Please.”

“You will. If you listen like the good little girl I know you can be, I’ll let you come. But first, you have to earn it.” He squeezes at your hip, his short nails digging into the skin.

You stick out your bottom lip and say a sad, “Okay.”

“Give me your hand.” You move one of his hands from his thighs. He guides your hand to your clit and then wraps his hand around your left ankle. “Show me, little dove.”

You take the reins, rubbing tight circles along your clit as you grind back and forth. Your orgasm builds in an instant.

“Shit can feel how close you are already,” Joel grits out.

“Please let me come. I’ll do anything.” You change to a circular motion, shifting your weight to the left, using the squat position for more friction.

“Don’t you dare! You said you can do as you're told,” he reminds you roughly, then uses the hand that was clamped on your right hip to slap your inner left thigh. “Don’t make me punish you.”

The pain from his strike sends warmth right to your core and you stop before you come. You let out a sad whine and fall forward, hands landing on either side of your head as you catch your breath.

“Please!” You murmur.

“God, little dove. You have no idea what it does to me when you listen like that. Such a good little submissive, aren’t you?” His hand runs from your right hip up your back, finger flicking the clasp of your bra open. “Sit back up. You earned it, little dove. Use my cock. Make us come.”

The lacy red bra slides down your arms as you sit up and you toss it towards the tree before riding him like it’s the last time. Your hands fly to your breast, rolling your nipples between your fingers in time with your hips. Nothing compares to the feeling of Joel's thick cock filling you. It’s indescribable and so fucking addicting even after almost fifteen years together.

The rough pad of his thumb loves back to your clit and you gasp. “Please don’t make me stop again, Joel. I’m so close.”

“I know, baby. I won’t. Fucking Christ, squeezin me so tight. I’m not gonna last.” The last part is a whimper.

“I’m gonna come,” you moan.

“Me too, little dove. Let go, fuuuck, let go for me.”

The sparks behind your clit turn into a fire, scalding every nerve ending as it spreads throughout your body. You bite down on your hand to stop from screaming as you twitch on his cock. Your pussy clenches tightly around him a few times before you feel him burst inside of you. His grip on your hip tightens again as he whines softly. Your eyes lock on his, the veins in his neck popping as he whispers your name and praises how good you feel wrapped around him.

Your highs seem to last forever before he reaches up to pull you down on top of him. Helping you shift your weight so you straddle him fully. He plasters you to his chest, the thin layer of both of your sweat mixing. Your heart races behind your ribs as you catch your breath, an occasional after-shock causing your pussy to flutter gently on his slowly softening cock.

“Oh my god,” you say, relaxing into his warmth.

“You ok, baby?” He sponges a kiss to your hairline.

“Mm-hmm. So good. Sleepy, but amazing.” Your mumble, kissing his chest.

His hands run along the lines of your back. “Good. Merry Christmas, little dove.”

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