#you need more time to heal before you should be having sex

[yandere-fics]

♡ Reader Sleeps With Them The Moment They Meet And Regrets It The Next Morning ♡

♡ You met her at a work party, in the company bathroom actually. She'd seen you around though you had never noticed her before and thought a party would be a great time for her to introduce herself only she didn't expect how tipsy you would be already not even half an hour into the party and how eager you would be to get in her pants. Honestly the poor thing was flustered when you grabbed her, pulling her into stall and kissing her. It wasn't the cleanest place and she would have preferred to have your first kiss somewhere better but this was nice too, her mate wanted her. She was also a bit shocked with how quickly things had escalated between the both of you, somehow ending up with her sitting on the toilet lid as you rid her while she tried her best to keep quiet when you aggressively shushed her over and over. When that didn't work to make her stay quiet eventually you just put your hand over her mouth as you kept going until she felt she was going to faint. She would have passed out but you passed out first, all the alcohol and overstimulation getting to you as the poor elf was left there figuring out she was going to get the both of you back to her apartment while also being overstimulated herself. Eventually she realized the best course of action was just to clean you and herself up as best she could and call company security to get the both of you back to her apartment. She had to call in a favor for that. ♡

♡ Miriel was honestly ecstatic the next morning. She had heard of supernaturals who's human mates resisted or barely even felt the bond but you had clearly felt it when she introduced herself to you. You wanted her and even if that wasn't how she would have preferred everything to happen, it still got you back to her apartment. The bond was completed and the two of you would spend this week after meeting cuddling, right? When you woke up however you immediately wanted to leave her apartment freaking her out as she tried to figure out how to make you want to stay with her before realizing this must have been something someone told you to do because there's no way you actually wanted to leave. Someone must have told you that you should play hard to get after the initiate meeting and you just went along with what they told you would get her attention. Humans had all sorts of stupid advice! That answer satisfied her as she lured you back to her bedroom with the promise of more booze and sex, you'd get over this hard to get thing soon, hopefully, you were scary when you wanted to leave. ♡

♡ When you had met Eliza you had taken yourself out on a little mini date, you hadn't really received any affection for such a long time so when someone came bolting up to you it honestly excited you a little bit even as everyone around you at the park was screaming in horror cause a werewolf was running in this direction. And when she sunk her teeth into your neck, a bit overexcited cause she nearly ripped a chunk out, it felt like honestly love to you ignoring the sting in your neck as the wound started to heal up as you started to reciprocate the little kisses she was leaving on your face just happy to be touched and to touch someone. You were honestly ignoring most of what she said because you couldn't have cared less, you just needed this affection in your life so badly, eventually stripping done right there and doing it with her in the public park as she howled in excitement. Eliza hadn't expected to be able to mate right away, obviously she had always planned to mark her mate the second they met but most werewolves said they had to wait months for their human to come around. She guessed running to you really must have shown her loyalty towards you and so you let her do it quicker. You didn't even care that she came instantly when she put it in, you were also too excited and almost did it instantly, plus you kept going for multiple rounds. She did freeze a bit when you would have moments of crying but then you told her you were crying because you were just too happy. Such a silly puppy. When you were finally exhausted she pulled out and wrapped you in her jacket to take you back to her apartment, sloppily picking up the picnic basket and shoving your things in there. ♡

♡ The next morning it still didn't really hit you that you had traded all your freedom for just a bit of human touch, it didn't even hit you until way after she told you she had to go to work with a frown, tail wagging when you said you'd miss her though. You were just so happy that you had someone who liked you for the first time in such a long time but then as you were messaging your only friend about the situation, typing it out didn't feel right and when she replied back you realized there were a lot of red flags about this you had overlooked and that you had to get out of there. It really didn't help that you had a timid personality and if she came back you'd fold and give into the affection once again so you had a limited amount of time to get out. Once you left though you encountered Eliza on her way to work who said you were a very silly puppy and you weren't supposed to leave the apartment even if you missed her, locking you back inside the apartment as you tried to mumble out small words of protest that fell on deaf ears. ♡

♡ You had never met Selene before despite both being gods, you didn't care to participate in the meetings that the others attending, finding their personalities revolting as the only god left who had no part in the war and Sawyer never summoned you to these meeting because once again you didn't participate so you were guiltless. You did know her reputation though having lived on the border between the elf gods and her so you knew everyone pretty much thought of her as a gross embarrassment who slept with anything that breathed. Having said that this year you did decide to attend a meeting simply out of pure boredom and so you met with one of the elf gods and it was decided you would go to the meeting with them and stay at the hotel all the gods stayed at which was especially enticing with the free bar. Worst mistake of your life going to that bar. You had seen her flirting shamelessly at that bar and despite that when she walked over to you, ditching the human she was talking to, you wanted to bone her. You wanted her to have you in every position all night long and you made that want very known to her, the elf you came with not even having time to warn you how gross Selene was. The sex was phenomenal, almost worth the embarrassment you knew you'd face the next day for having a random hookup. If only this was just a random hookup, unfortunately it was the hoe god herself which was far more humiliating than if this had been a random stranger. ♡

♡ Selene was smug as you walked into the first day of the meeting together with your head down in shame followed by her close behind you to assert her claim on you. By noon you were the butt of the meeting with jokes about how gross Selene was being thrown out all day long as even The Boss had a look on her face that you'd done something disgusting. Selene wasn't too pleased you saw their romp as something shameful but she was very happy that for the first time in centuries she was going to get something beneficial out of these meetings. That thought really satisfied her. She'd forgive you for all your flinching when she tried to kiss your cheek later. ♡

♡ You'd developed a system to weed out people when you went on dates or when anyone showed interest in you, sleep with them first and ask questions later. Most of the time people got what they wanted and didn't want to come back. The other percent of the time there was zero connection there and you parted mutually and you assumed this date would be no different. It was a blind date your friend had set you up on, had been pestering you a for a very long time to go on actually cause they were sure you'd like her, a demon she said but don't worry they were super patient and it wouldn't have to be serious. You took this to mean you weren't their mate and they definitely didn't have one yet. You didn't actually know too much about supernatural's or how mates worked but you assumed they had to sleep around and see other people before they found their one right? They couldn't be that different from humans. Anyways that's what you thought she was there for and so you were down for it, obviously this one wouldn't last but it didn't matter to you if you were adding yet another person to your list, it would also be an experience that you weren't going to experience again probably. She was pretty dull to talk to though, wanting to know too much about you and telling you too much about herself. You didn't want to go into details or bother remembering anything until the sex was out of the way and so you told her you just wanted to go home with her that night and fuck. You think you said it in a more subtle way but that was the gist of the conversation. She'd asked if you were sure only once before deciding to just take her chance and sweep you out of the restaurant. ♡

♡ Actually you started to regret it the moment you got into her apartment. The first red flag was the several locks on the door that she was careful to latch and even a code you'd have to unlock to get out, that was already freaky, you were locked in with her. The second red flag in your mind was all the kissing and how careful she was being with you, not in a rush to strip you quickly and laying you on her bed gently. When you fucked people on first dates you didn't really kiss, in your mind kissing was for established relationships. Your final nail in the coffin was her marking your skin, leaving hickies all over and you think she even bit your neck at one point. This was far from casual and while that would have been a good thing if it had been a human, it was what you wanted from humans, this was a supernatural leading you to realize you were definitely her soulmate and making you want to kill your friend when you saw them. ♡

♡ You liked how freaky she came off when you first met her. All you heard were bird wings loudly flapping and other people running away to avoid the angel that had just landed right in front of you, dropping a few wings around you as she came down. You believe your exact words had been "wow you're weird, want to have sex?", which she took the offer with no words, taking you in her arms and flying off to her apartment as you were thinking about the weird sex with a bird lady you were about to have. You actually hadn't even know angels were a type of demon so you didn't know they had soulmates. You though they were just some weird other thing since there weren't even enough in the city for the common human to know much about them. You said your name and she said hers and then you went for it, stroking the base of her wings to get her excited as her wings flapped wildly only making her more desperate as she started to shred your clothing. Nikki hadn't said anything as she took you back to her apartment because she assumed the reason you had initiated mating was because you already knew what was up so she only had told you her name before she got right into it. Nikki wasn't the most sex driven, she always just wanted to have a mate to nap with but no self respecting angel would have been able to control themselves with their mate stroking their wings, and you were doing it a lot which made her feel down right feral. She wasn't satisfied until you passed out, finally getting her nap with you. ♡

♡ You regretted it the second you woke up because she was too normal. It wasn't weird anymore, she had an office job and started her morning like a normal human being. It was also disappointed when you learned angels were a type of demon, you thought she was something more unique and now you learned she was kind of normal. She didn't even like sex freaky style like you were hoping, she told you she liked napping alot. It was boringgg and you were ready to dip until you remembered that demons had soulmates and if she was one like she said, you were stuck here with her which was also very boring in your opinion. ♡

♡ You found Runa in an alleyway killing someone which was unbelievably sexy to you and so when she looked up at you, her eyes going wide, stepping towards you and dropping her knife you decided you would seduce her, one so you could not get killed but also banging a woman who might kill you at any second had a thrill to it. She went for it gladly though, wanting to stay in the alleyway for it and degrading you about how filthy it was you wanted to bang her after you had only just met her, in public, and near the corpse of her victim no less. You were into that, it had been a long running fantasy you had, you ignored the elf ears almost entirely not realizing you weren't banging an average human serial killer. You just wanted this nice fantasy to tide you over for the rest of your life. Knowing that you had banged a serial killer in the past would be a fun secret to have and the gross factor was only adding to it for you. You had to be honest she was not good at what she was doing remotely, she was pretty much just drooling onto you as she ate you out and the only part you were really getting off on was the humiliation, the other part was just mid. You don't know if that was because you were in an alley and she was nervous though or if she in general was just bad at it. When the deed was over and she seem sufficiently please you reminded her she had a job to finish and got the hell out of there while you was trying to clean the body up, you also think you saw her pick it's pockets but that was none of your concern. ♡

♡ You came to regret it the next day when you had been sitting at home and your window busted open, the girl from yesterday climbing through. At first you thought she was there to end your life but then for the first time you actually noticed the elf ears and realized the gravity of what you had done. She didn't seem too bothered by you actually running away though, she said you probably hadn't known where she lived and were scared about getting caught with the corpse there which you wee happy to play along with to keep her calm and also to keep her from realizing that she would have probably banged any serial killer you found in that alley, not just her. ♡

♡ You loved your ex alot despite everything they had done to you with all the cheating and stuff. You had a very toxic relationship with them where they would leave for someone else but then the moment you'd get with anyone they would come crawling back to you cause they were only trying to make you jealous. You'd leave and they'd try to make you jealous. It went on like that repeating forever. You wanted the cycle to end so you had to hook someone that your ex would feel was much better than them. One thing they were insecure about was height, whenever you got someone taller than them they would run back even longer. Same with strength so when you saw Nora, she was the perfect tall bulky girl to get your ex to finally seal the deal and propose, immediately asking her to take you home with her and luckily she agreed. Actually Nora had just received your file from the boss a few days prior and had been very happy with it and decided she would introduce herself to her reason to live today only you got to her first. Clearly you needed her, you were babbling something about a bad break up and that feelings of being needed only drew her to you more, if she hadn't already been in love with your file, she was in love now that the both of you were in her apartment with her kissing you and reassuring you that you'd make that bastard regret it together. She didn't understand the plan was for you to get back with that bastard cause she wasn't listening properly but you weren't listening to her properly either so it was fair. ♡

♡ You regretted it when the next day you were locked in her apartment and she left a note saying she would deal with your ex problem. When she finally came back announcing they were dead causing you to sob hysterically about your true love being dead and break things around her apartment as she realized she badly misinterpreted you asking her to help you make them pay. She thought she did a good job, especially when before she killed them she showed them footage of you banging her. Too be honest seeing you crying like this made her feel so jealous she was pretty sure she was going to snap soon so instead she tied you up, for your own good of course. You'd get over it and it was sort of your fault since you were listening last night when she said she'd bash their brains in while fucking you. ♡

♡ This one was entirely on you, you knew she was The Boss, like the big scary one everyone in the city and even perhaps in other territories responded to and you knew if she was talking to you, you were definitely her soulmate even if you didn't know what kind of supernatural she was, it was broadly agreed upon in the city that she had to have a soulmate and so you knew from the moment she said hi that this was a bad idea but when she spoke to you, the pull to her was just immediate and so you asked her if she wanted to have sex, her carrying you up to her office and fucking you right there on the desk. Even as you fucked you thought about how bad an idea this was and that it was only going to make her instincts get worse like it did for every one supernatural when they finally fucked their mate. Still you kept going with it because it felt nice and the pull had just been strong enough for you to ignore your own personal feelings about doing this so soon after meeting her, you even let her knot you multiple times that night, discovering that was now your new favorite sensation. ♡

♡ It was in the morning when you started to regret it fully, as soon as you assured her she could go to work and you'd be fine in the penthouse. Only then did you feel the weight of your actions, no longer being immersed in her scent that had driven you crazy the night before. Sawyer already felt your tension through the bond as soon as she left the penthouse and returned very swiftly, not leaving you any time to dwell on your own as she decided she should take the week off since you probably needed to get to know her better so you'd feel less nervous. ♡

[poe-slittleraven13]

I just——do that not understand that ‘death of mother’ is one of the most common results? For many, many reasons.

Like, a fetus is a baby parasite on your body, being pregnant/giving birth can both kill you and make you wish you were dead.

It’s extremely common. But also, these are the same people that call birth a “miracle” so I’m not too surprised that the majority of them (especially the me ) don’t understand what the human body goes through to get pregnant, maintain the pregnancy, give birth, and everything after

Republicans have cottage cheese for brains because the baby does try to abort the mother like with regularity

[mintmatcha]

tiktok reader universe

contains mentions of sexual assault. cisfem reader.

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There's still times when Bakugo can tell your mind wanders during sex. The focus drains from your eyes, your grip goes limp, and your smile slips just a bit. You always come back to him if he says something, but... sometimes he lets it happen, lets you drift away. Maybe the distance is needed.

Even after all this time, you still never sleep over after sex. Tonight, you're a bit more impatient than usual, fixing your hair and wiping your brow right after he pulls away.

"I was offered a job today," you say casually.

"Yeah?" Bakugo loops an arm around the empty pillow that could be yours, if only you'd lean back into it. "With who?"

Instead, he's left to study the curve of your spine as you throw your legs over the side of the bed. He loves the story your body tells, with its scars and marks. Even the acne pocks are a reminder you were once just a teenager, just like he was. His own scars have puckered with age, still the same raging pink they were when they first healed.

"Someone with way too much money-" you say. -"who likes what I've done for your image and thinks I can fix theirs."

"And can you?"

You shoot him a grin from over your shoulder. "Is that even a question?"

Truthfully, Bakugo thinks you could do anything if you wanted to. You could lean over and rip his heart from his chest with just your fucking teeth-- and you'd make it look easy. He'd maybe even thank you. He'd definitely let it happen again.

Bakugo gives up on luring you back. "Well, when do you start?"

Your head tilts.

"I don't," you say."I didn't take the job."

Bakugo sits up straighter.

"I didn't want to leave you."

The statement sits warm in his chest, then quickly cools.

"Well, maybe you should have."

That makes you turn. You cock your head the other way, expression neutral, but still gracing him with a closed lip grin. The stare lasts for a long while before you crawl back under the covers and return to his side. Your lips find the side of his neck and your hands grip back to him, hot, heavy, breathless in that way you think he likes. A hum builds in your throat, a rolling, performative sound.

"Pull your cock out," you demand, right into the shell of his ear. "If this is the last time, I want another round."

"What?"

He doesn't have time to react before you're gripping his half hard cock, jerking it up gently. It's still wet with you and buzzing with sensitivity, so much so that he can't help but enjoy it, enjoy you-

"If you're about to break up with me, I want to at least cum one more time."

He loses the remnants of his erection.

"That's not what I fucking meant." Bakugo tries to meet your eye, but you just keep kissing at him, gripping at him. "Just-- stop stroking my cock for a second and be fucking serious."

You freeze, but keep your hand on him.

"I don't wanna work together," Bakugo reaches for your hand. The free one. "I just want to date."

You don't respond.

"I want to take you places and have you meet my parents and-"

God. this is so unlike him. When did he lose his teeth? Did you pull them straight from his skull and hang them from your neck like jewels?

"I want you to sleep over." He means it. "Like a real fucking couple."

The ceiling fan hums with an uneven hitch, catching in the same spot each time. It's an easy fix, but he's been ignoring it for so long that it's almost blended into the tapestry of his home. Click-click-click-click-click: now it's deafening, overwhelming the silence you're choosing to sit in. Just as he's about to open his mouth, you look away from his body and meet his eye. There's no sharp edge to your eyes.

"'tsuki."

You say it like a mother about to comfort a child, with a rounded curve to your tone that he's never heard before. You're trying to dull the blow, but it does nothing. It's a fucking knife to the gut.

"I'm serious. I'm really serious." He points with his whole arm towards the bathroom. "I've had a fucking toothbrush ready for you for weeks now. It's right there, in the fucking package."

You withdraw, smile long gone. The air between you two, trapped under the covers, goes cold.

"The girlfriend thing." You are unrecognizable without your Mona Lisa grin and he's obsessed with it. He wants to consume these rare moments, chew on them until he's full of you and only you, despite how it makes his stomach turn. "It was never real. You know that."

You cover your bare tits with one arm, but leave your pussy exposed. It feels like a reflex more than an actual concern.

"I'm not meant to be a girlfriend. You don't want me as a girlfriend."

Bakugo's quick to close the distance between you, but he pauses when you full body flinch. Your quirk activates for a moment - you glitter out of existence and then immediately back in- like it's unwittingly done. It's another incredibly un-you moment, but one that he doesn't want to drink in.

"I do." He keeps his voice as delicate as he can. "I do. I fucking do."

"I don't know how to do the things you need. I don't know how to be a girlfriend," you say. The corners of your smile return and he can see the wall coming back up. The arch of your back, the way your hand suddenly cups your tit: you turn yourself into someone else, someone's who's happy to be here, in an instant. "I can make myself girlfriend shaped. I can open my mouth and let you fuck it. I can pose for a picture. I can make your friends jealous."

Oh, and that distant look comes back to your face. The dilation of your eye is just... wrong, even as you smile.

"But I'm just something that's girlfriend shaped," you say. "I'm an illusion, a creature, a tool, a hole-"

"Don't ever say that shit again."

It rips out of him too roughly. "A hole? That's-- why would you say that?"

It all seems to hit you slowly, as if you're processing your own words. Like it never occured to you that you were saying something foul.

"Because-" you try to explain yourself.

"You're just a girl," Bakugo doesn't let you finish the thought. He can't. Not when you're above him like that, so guarded and yet so vulnerable, neither predator nor prey. "I hate to break your fucking illusion or whatever, but you aren't this fucking lumbering beast or huntress or, or, or, I dunno, whatever the commission has tricked you into believing."

He tries to meet your eye, but you're ducking away from it.

"You're just a girl." He lets his hands fall back to his lap. The pinky that doesn't work twitches, kicking with it's old muscle memory. The scar tissue itches under it's own tautness. "Underneath it all. You're just a girl."

The mattress creaks under your weight as you shift back. Now, your eyes are incredibly focused, almost pinpricks. You watch him with an unreadable expression, one slowly inching more towards horror with every moment.

"You think I can't see you, but I can." Bakugo stays where he is. "And I think you want to be seen."

Everything moves slowly. You blink a couple times, with this meek nod, swallowing thickly as you listen. Then, you get off of the bed and head towards the door. All of your clothes are still scattered on the bedroom floor, your panties at the foot of the bed.

"Wait." Bakugo scrambles to get to his feet. "Don't- fucking wait."

He says your name, once, twice, three times, and gets no response. Panic and regret swirl in his skull, so violent he almost goes lightheaded. By the time he reaches the hall, you're gone, and he thinks you've activated your quirk to escape him. It's the nightmare he's always had around you, the one where you disappear into the night the second he gets too close.

And then the bathroom light flicks on. With a careful trepidation, Bakugo inches down towards the door, afraid the break the illusion. Maybe, if he moves too fast, you'll really scatter off into the night, a deer under his headlights.

But when he slides into the frame, you're just standing there, holding a familiar little tube.

"This it?" You hold the package in your hand. "My toothbrush?"

"Yeah."

With your thumbs, you crack into the packaging and carefully peel the toothbrush out. You run the head under the faucet, then turn it off.

"Toothpaste?"

Bakugo pulls out the top drawer. With a sullen nod, you take the toothpaste and unscrew the top. Bakugo watches you, both of you completely naked, both of you completely silent. It surprises him how unsexual it feels to be here, postcoital, still sweaty, watching you brush your teeth. After the moment settles, he steps over and grabs his own brush.

You're just a girl, he thinks as he brushes his teeth next to you. He likes that you're just a girl next to him.

The both of you finish up, then you silently pad back to the room. Bakugo follows, a healthy distance, but close enough the he watches you shrug on his sweatshirt before dipping under the covers. Your head rests on your pillow.

Bakugo finds his space on the other side of the bed and you lay there, in the dim overhead lighting.

"It's hard for me," you say.

"Sleeping?"

"Yeah."

Bakugo turns on to his side and almost reaches out. Almost. Instead, he goes back and turns off the light. When he returns, you're nothing but a dark lump beside him.

"That's okay," he says, "You can sleep however the hell you want."

Your silhouette stays still.

"Sometimes I wake up crying," you say. "Or kicking, or just remembering something I shouldn't."

"Remembering what?"

The click of the fan overtakes everything again as you lay there, pulling in even breaths. A moment passes, then another and another. You're silent for too long, long enough that he thinks you've fallen asleep. Just as he's about to give up, you sigh out a winding breath.

"He was a hero," you whisper. "I felt special when he paid attention to me."

A chill he can't place creeps up his spine. He wants to ask what that means, why you're telling him this, but nothing comes out when he opens his mouth. He has to swallow, then cleae his throat.

"Did-?" His voice crackles. "Did someone hurt you?"

Again, you're silent.

"Who?" This time, when you don't respond, he presses. "Fucking who?"

"Someone who retired a long, long time ago."

"Give me a name and I'll fucking-"

"Katsuki."

"Someone raped you."

He had to say it out loud and dispel the mystery behind it. It's selfish, brash, but he needed it- just as he needs this hand around you, holding, cradling-

"That's what happens when you're just a girl." You clutch at his forearm with a want that isn't present in your voice. "People hurt you."

The bite of your nails surprises him.

"It's safer to be something else."

It's his turn to be quiet.

[hoseoksluna]

LIQUID STARS | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. bam)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 11.8k

summary: to seal the deal, you give jungkook what he wants—your kiss, your cunt and your virginity.

playlist: liquid stars / pinterest board: wine

warnings: size kink, heavy dd/lg themes, provocation, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of porn, oral sex (f. + m. receiving), multiple orgasms & countdown, dom/sub dynamics, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), first time, jealousy, inner child healing, plushie used during intercourse, jungkook fucks her numb & dumb, praise kink, cum eating, pet names and the establishment of a title, bondage, raw sex, tummy bulge, desperation, pain felt during intercourse, squirting

note: as difficult as it was to write this, i'm immensely thankful. this changed my life; it healed me and i'll dream about it for a long, long time. i was as exhausted as oc once i finished this, because i truly did give my all. everyone, this is part four to my series 'wine' and therefore the very end. this is the very beginning of jungkook's and oc's relationship. can be read as a standalone as there aren't any quirks from the other parts (except for bunny), though if you wish to read them now, now is the perfect time. now you can see the beautiful gradual development of their relationship. please, enjoy as you read and let me know your favorite parts bc i need to talk about this. heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that can be uncomfortable for some. thank you! and thank you for all the love on this series. i'll never forget it. i love you, guys. ʚɞ

side note: give some round of applause for 3D daddy provider jungkook everyone!! he deserves it!!!

Silky lilac bows adorn the tops of your pigtails that cascade down in loose braids, sprawled on the cotton of his pillow and on the soft belly of a bunny plushie. There are still traces of sunlight left on the bedding, which dissolve, little by little, into nothingness as the large star goes down, saying goodbye. It’s lightweight, the atmosphere—homely almost. And much to your surprise, you feel relatively at ease, despite the fact a man lies on top of you—a man you have a certain liking for. 

It was natural for you to end up here and you, yourself, wished for it, even. Deemed it was only right after the man took you around for a walk while his silly Doberman guarded each and every step both of you had taken in sync, especially so when he persisted in buying you a small plastic ring of the same bunny you’re lying against. He didn’t even forget about his own canine friend waiting outside patiently like the obedient dog he is, and fed him the snackies he got for him as soon as he returned from the shop. You swore Bam was as giddy as you when he received his gift. 

Now the ring glints in the last rays of the sun. His, too. 

While yours is as white as the cloudy morning sky, Jungkook’s is as black as the drowsily dozing night sky. You think it’s the perfect contrast between the pair of you. Not that you should be noting these things, considering you’re just friends. But his skin is satiny soft, painted in impressionist tattoos, while his muscles, that his well-fitted T-shirt graciously allows you to see, are strong. You’re sure he could just lift you and throw you around without much of a strain. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s such a striking image of pure beauty. How could you not notice these intertwinings when they’re this lovely?

You like him—without a shadow of doubt. Can feel the call of an emotional attachment forming the more he studies your skin with the tip of his index finger, embellished with the Miffy ring, and it’s owed to the fact you’ve never been touched this way before. No one has ever come this close, no one has ever been interested in the moles scattered upon your shoulders, in the veins that make the pathway to the column of your neck. No one has ever gazed twice at them—but Jungkook?

He hasn’t stopped looking at them ever since he laid you down in the middle of his bed. 

How could you stop such a call? Such a lull, such a magnetic pull. You know you should, but for the meantime, you simply don’t want to. Can’t lose this moment, can’t lose this once in a lifetime opportunity—

Jungkook presses his lips against the prominent mole in the center of your left shoulder. Those pretty, puffy lips, closing against your skin, the smallest dart of tongue swiping past. It shocks you for a moment before the feeling dissolves beneath, adjusting within the freshness of your system. How could you refuse such dynamic poetry, expressed against your own forlorn body? When it’s so blatant that it’s natural, that your body willingly accepts it without a fight. 

You couldn’t. 

Stretching your fingers between the thick strands of his hair, you close your eyes to savor the feeling of being wanted. The movement of his mouth, going even as far as to the first vein rooted in your arm—following it with those half-closed pillows. Up, up until he finds the line of your collarbone. Jungkook pauses there, simply breathes against you before he interperses little pecks there, nibbles and gentle swipes of tongue. The lining of your top won’t let him go further down, so he changes direction—relies on the pathway of your veins to guide him to your neck. And there… at the first contact, you grip the roots of his hair. 

His kisses and nibbles are much harder here. And what’s worse, he takes the sensitive skin into his mouth and sucks. You fail at containing the whimpers that break out of your mouth and Jungkook reacts to them. Hums ever so deeply, rocks his hips against the mattress. You wish you were a bit bigger so you could feel the collision, but you’re just so small compared to his large form. You imagine he’s writing down the poems collecting inside of him with each cursive roll of his tongue. Wonder if there’s enough paper on your skin for all his words. 

“You sweet little thing,” Jungkook coos onto the crook of your neck, dragging his lips up and down before he stops at your jaw. You feel the warmth of his breath and his body heat seeps into yours, creating unity, blackening the ink. It feels strange, it feels so new. Brisk and springlike, like fresh air in a stuffed room. You want to stay here for a long time, tasting the wholeness of spring captured in him. You want his words to flush you red with the tinge of the entire sunlight that opens the buds of flowers during all seasons in a loop. “Can I kiss you?”

You haven’t gone beyond the innocent touching of hands with him. You brim with a tight feeling of thankfulness that he asked you such a graceful question, although something else steals your attention entirely. 

“Little?” you say, the smile on your lips pulled so taut that it quivers ever so slightly. It makes you crazy that he calls you that, but you play the game. Revel in it. “What do you mean little? I’m bigger than you.”

Jungkook cocks his brow at you, mouth falling into a lopsided grin. He sits back and you feel a whiff of coldness pass by the perimeter of your body, as if someone opened the window and let the winter air in, when it’s just his brief distance that caused it. The forming attachment in you tenses and before you can think about your actions, your hand finds his knee, his thigh and traces slow patterns there. Jungkook suddenly squeezes your waist, surprising you, and the ecstatic fluttering of butterfly wings break havoc all over your body. The solidness of his hands, their weight, their firmness, giving life to your body, meaning. You note how his fingers touch when he has his hands enveloped around you like that. And the inkling that your body matters in his hands like that slips into your mind, spreading through its axis. 

You bite your lower lip. A small ache begins to grow in your intimate parts. It’s so nice to be wanted, to be considered good enough to be touched, to be kissed. 

“You? Bigger than me?” Jungkook squeezes your waist again. Sucks in a breath through his teeth. Smiles softly; in a way that you find unbearably endearing. “No, you’re just little. Just a tiny, little bug. So tiny in my hands.” 

For the breath he inhaled, you exhale it. 

He leaves his hands there when he bends over you, hovering his lips over yours. His weight, his heat. You sigh against him in relief, in a newly blossoming excitement that he’s back again. You spread your legs wider, feet grazing his calves—

“Let me kiss you, please.” 

You’d give in, but the game is just so pleasurable. 

Your laugh is but a breath. “You wanna kiss me?” 

You exhaled, he inhaled. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Since when do friends kiss?” You cock your eyebrow at him just like he did, prodding your tongue on the inside of your cheek. 

He hovers a little bit higher above you, hanging his head in defeat, sighing. Places his hands in fists on either side of you, caging you in. 

“Premium friends do,” he mutters, lifting his head, face all serious. You dig your toe into the toned muscle of his thigh, twirling sweet little circles, gliding up and down. Watch as his eyes lid and he tries to control it. “Don’t do that or I’ll fuck you.” 

Your body panics, but you will it to relax. 

“Does that come with the premium subscription?” 

Jungkook purses his lips, supports his weight on one hand as the other, the tattooed one, grips your jaw. He squishes your cheeks, bites his lip once—seemingly ponders whether he should play your game or not before he lets go of your pout, but still keeps his hand there. He traces the shape of your lips with this thumb, feeding his desire to kiss you with scraps. 

“Yes,” he utters. “Kisses, orgasms, my dog. It’s all—”

Orgasms, not just sex. Orgasms. 

“I get to take Bam?” 

Jungkook tuts at you. “You get to take me,” he corrects you. “Though, can even such a little thing like you take me?” 

Probably not. Definitely not. 

“But what about Bam?” 

He looks at you as if he couldn’t believe the words you’re saying, turning his head slightly to hear you better. Then, he scoffs, running his tongue across his lips swiftly, letting them express the enjoyment of your provocation by stretching into a smirk. He places his hand back on the right side of you, thinking over his words. 

“Bam is mine, but you can pet him. You can kiss him.” You can hear the feigned venom in that word as he spits it and you grin, pleased with yourself. You enjoy doing this to him. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you take him out for his walkies.” 

You gasp slowly, fingers absentmindedly gripping his thigh. Butterflies buzz you with a mere hint of arousal and to convey it, you wet your top lip with the tip of your tongue. The dominance, the principle of proving to him whether you’re deserving of something. Your heartbeat quickens, reaching for him with each swell. 

Oh, you’ll be good. You’ll be good until he’s sick of it. 

It seems he’s as pleased with himself as you were with yourself, reading your body language as he beams down at you, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. You want to stick your fingers there, pinch the skin at the corners of his mouth. Feel them, kiss them—

“Deal.” 

Jungkook blinks at you. He most likely expected you to be difficult. You like the look of surprise on him. A sweet kind of glint perches itself upon his irises. You’re at awe of how he manages to be so adorable and alluring at the same time. You could never understand it. You deem he must be otherworldly. 

“A kiss to seal the deal?” he tries, raising his brows, lowering himself to his elbows. 

He skims his lips across your cheek, descending to your neck. Places one, singular kiss there. Lifts his head to hear your answer, a soft curtain of hair falling across his forehead. 

You make a face as if you’re thinking about it. 

Jungkook groans. 

It’s cold, the way he turns away from you and it startles you—but then he slides his hands under your back and lifts you with ease, sitting you down on his lap. He moves you from the muscles on his thighs to the hardness of his intimate parts and you groan at the feeling of it. You’re wearing an airy short skirt with tights and knee socks underneath, the barrier so thin that you feel the solid, thick shape of him right under your femininity. 

You rock against him once. Jungkook lets out a sound akin to yours, fingers flexing—hands almost reaching for your behind before he decides against it and keeps them planted against your back. 

He desires your consent. And that makes you feel light-headed. Tipsy on the wholeness of him, on the pleasure coursing through your body. 

You rock your hips again—and this time, Jungkook whimpers. 

You take your hands and, slowly, you make a pathway down his chiseled chest. He twitches against you when your fingers pass by his nipples, his body following and squirming along. And once you reach the definition of his abdomen, your hands rise and fall against its quickening movement as his lungs heave. You’re mesmerized by his reaction to your touch. It’s as if it was his first time as well and something about that makes you woozy, savage and absolutely feline. 

And something about the way you’re allowed to do as you please, whereas he’s not, strengthens that state of mind, enriches it, thoroughly worsens it. 

You want him. 

It began with a ring and ended right here. 

And the process of your decision starts at his hips, finalizes at the pebbles of his nipples and finishes completely at the sides of his neck. He gives you the same, if not better, reaction, his manhood moving against you, and it’s settled. 

The giving of virginity to seal the deal, not just a kiss. 

Hovering your lips against his, you slip your hand to the place where you’re connected to feel up the shape of him. You moan onto him, vigorous power seizing you, propelling you to wrap your fingers around him. The breaths Jungkook emits are desperate, tortured, wafting over you, intoxicating you. It fills you with confidence unlike any other that you’re able to coax such a thing of beauty out of him—that you, the artist, have the upper hand momentarily while he doesn’t. 

And he waits, depends on you. You want to cry due to how happy it makes you, due to the way it suffuses an empty part of you, left abandoned by someone who should’ve taken care of it a long, long time ago. 

Because of that—if it’s kisses that he wants, you’ll give him as many as his body desires as a thank you. 

“You’re so hard against me,” you whisper. 

Jungkook grips your waist hard. 

“If you want it, you have to seal the deal,” he mimics your intonation, voice deep, tingling your tummy. 

“I want it.” You clutch both of your hands on his jawline, thumbs finding the invisible dimples. 

“Kiss me, then.” 

You whimper at the longing to do so. Your tummy clenches, butterflies inside swarm around and—

When you close your lips against his top lip, they burst into smithereens. Jungkook sighs in relief, enveloping you in his warmth. 

The kiss is hungry. You expected his first taste of you to be careful, contemplative, but he goes all in. Takes charge of the lip lock, swallowing you whole, moving against you, uttering low sounds that make your head spin and you just comply. Accept that you’re the one who submits to his craving and you find yourself liking it; find yourself wanting to deepen your submission. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your head tilted as you reciprocate all of those hard kisses. When he comes up for air, he just gazes down at you, out of breath. One hand still on your back, the other cradles your cheek. There’s something puzzling in his eyes, as if he was fighting something within. You’re radiated by that energy, heavied down by it, letting him pet you like a puppy while you wait for the next step. 

“You’re so good that I’m considering letting you take Bam out,” he breathes, curling a wisp of your hair behind your ear. “Sweet little thing.” 

He pecks you once. You grind against his manhood and as he shortly groans onto your mouth, you splutter into giggles. Behind you, as if he heard him, the dog peeks his head out of the door, giving his Daddy a questioning look. Jungkook chuckles. 

“Bam, house.” 

The dog leaves and Jungkook sinks his fingers into your hair, sighing. Kisses you, again without tongue—only does what you’ve allowed him, but you overflow with the desire for more. He’s so considerate, so respectful and while you’re grateful for it, you want to break it. Your trust in him, made whole by all that he’s done for you, settled within you, made a bed in the sensitive parts of you that now shine. He doesn’t need to remain there—you want to go beyond that. 

“Touch me, please.” You look up into his eyes as you say it, willing them to see with all your energy how much you want him. 

He rubs soothing circles on your back. “If I touch you, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.” 

You lift your butt ever so slightly and bounce down on him, your skirt furling. Jungkook moans, pleasing you to the core. It’s bratty of you, but it serves him right for being so stubborn, so firm in his control. You want to break him. 

“Can’t you see how much I want that?” you purr, bunching the cotton of his T-shirt in your fists. 

He merely shakes his head, licking his lower lip, fucking with you. He tugs on one of your braided pigtail, the other hand gliding to your hipbone. “This little girl is horny? I couldn’t tell.” 

A yellow light, sleepy in nature, spills through the blinds, latching onto the side of your neck. His eyes flick to it and his teeth sink into the wetness of his lip. He looks back at you when he says, “what was it that made you horny? The neck kisses?” 

He straps both of his hands to your hipbones now, adjusting you so your sweetest spot rests against his cock, rocking your hips like he wants them to. He swallows down his noises, makes room for yours. You figure he wants to hear them. 

You think about what made you horny. His respectful behavior. An electric spark spasms in your core at the memory and you roll your body against his at the impact—nipples pebbled, grazing below the hardness of his pecks. You moan loudly. He breathes heavily, can’t for the life of him contain that, gripping you with strength that will surely leave bruises. You add it to the list. 

His control—the momentary, delicious lack of it, too. The dominance that follows it. His noises and how unrestrained he is when it comes to them. The allure and the attractive charm of his looks, blended with that insufferable cutesiness. His hard cock. The neck kisses, too, of course. 

You summarize your answer and you tell him, “you.” 

A hitch in his throat. “Fuck.” 

Fuck, indeed. Fuck the steady rhythm—Jungkook speeds up your movement, the pace so fast your pigtails and your ribbons bounce, tits following suit. Your breath falls in step, moans echo within the walls of his room. He kisses you harshly, but that doesn’t silence you. He swallows your noises down, grunting. 

“You wanna know what made me hard for you?” 

You nod your head, lips forming a natural pout at the loss of contact. 

“Those fucking pigtails of yours. The knee socks. How tiny you are in my hands. Seeing you lose your fucking mind when I kissed your neck. Those marks I left behind, hm, fuck yes. Those marks made me crazy,” he mutters, staring you down. “And you know what else?” 

You wait for his answer as white flashes blind you, your roaring orgasm beckoning you close. He doesn’t stop rocking you against him, not once. Fills your brain with emptiness with his words coated wet by his dominant energy. You feel your own wetness soaking the fabric of your panties. 

“Your brattiness,” he says. “I want to fuck it out of you and make a good girl out of you that won’t misbehave again with her smart words.” 

A faint part of you, half affected by the pleasure he gives you, arises to stand up for you. “But I was good and you said so.” 

He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly shaking his head. Slows down the pace so you’re able to hear him loud and clear, your orgasm backing away. “You see the thing is with little bratty girls like you, even when they act good for me, there’s still that dark little side of them that hides. Unless I fuck it out of them, they play with me. And trust me, I like the game until I don’t.” 

You frown at him, but a moan betrays you. A fight throngs inside of you, his dominance yet again permeating you, causing you to flourish, but on the other hand, you don’t like being added to the mix. You want to be the only one—and it makes you angry that he had someone like you before you, that he even said it altogether. Though unfortunately, that’s something you can only keep to yourself. 

The forming attachment breaks, splitting into two, with the knowledge that your wish is futile. You understand he said it for the sake of the role-play that you both naturally, wordlessly established through sexual attraction, but you still have a lot of getting used to within the dynamic. He’s experienced, you’re not. Though, when you think about it, he doesn’t know a thing about your purity. You never told him. 

You blame yourself for your own pain. It’s your fault—you should’ve had a conversation with him about it before you let him do anything to you, instead of playing flirty games with him. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if he knew you were a virgin. The thought of what you’ve done stains you, makes you feel filthy, but you will it to kneel inside of you like a wounded animal. You need to be strong if you don’t want to storm out of his room in tears. 

No attachment, no liking. 

Just sex. 

There’s still a frown to your face, despite the fact you set yourself free with your decision. Jungkook chuckles at it, oblivious to your internal storm. 

“You didn’t like that, did you?” You didn’t like being compared to other girls he’d been with; there’s nothing to be said of the like about the role-play aspect. Being called bratty did rouse a moan out of you. “You prove my words right.” 

You roll your eyes. Jungkook grips your ass hard and spanks you. As the sting reverberates, along with it comes the realization you got what you wanted. 

You broke him. 

And now you have to face the repercussions. 

Good thing you’ve sobered up from the stupefaction of your arousal. 

You cradle his face and kiss him deeply in effort to change the narrative. No feeling of affection from earlier hangs upon your heart and you find that it’s easier like this. No strings, no pain. It relieves you—so much that you sense a layer of lightness to your body and tiny, manageable tears well in your eyes. You get to enjoy this after all. 

There’s radiance to your eyes, rooted in hope, and true softness to your words when you say, “I want you to fuck it out of me. I want you to be my first.” 

You want to be different—your pride is uninfluenced by your decision. If he fucks it out of you, the new narrative you’re longing for will fully take place and make living through this bearable. You know you can’t have him the way you’d like, but if fate wrote that you’re to have him this way—you don’t mind altering it to the little desires you’re allowing yourself to have. 

Once in a lifetime opportunity. You can’t lose it. 

Jungkook is left astounded by your words, eyes widening, shock evident on his features. Like your words, he softens, unclenching his fingers from your suppleness, the darkness in his irises making a way for gentleness to come through. He rubs the small of your back, hands ascending to your spine, feeling the clip of your bra, until he finds the nape of your neck. He holds you there, tenderly, as if you were a porcelain doll he now was careful not to break. 

The change in his demeanor is stark. It surprises you as well—and like everything that has happened within the hour, it isn’t something you expected from him. The emotion that emerges from the roundness of his eyes touches the hardness of your decision, tries to get through, pokes a gap inside, letting the light in. 

He tucks his darkness back inside. Strokes the back of your head, the silky ends of your ribbons sifting through his slender fingers. You relax against him and your body does it for you. It welcomes his tenderness, glad for the truth to be out. You fight against it—against yourself, willing your decision not to break but remain firm. 

No strings, no pain.

But to no avail. The light spreads. His light. Celestial twinkles of stars, small parts of him that make him who he is. 

“You’ve never had anyone before me?” he husks, regret glossing over his eyes, holding your head firmly as he awaits your answer. More stars spill like liquid. 

You shake your head ‘no’, your chest tightening. 

He kisses you and there’s something different about the way he does it. Now you can sense the carefulness you searched for earlier and you taste the primal core of loving care in the movement of his lips. The kisses are long, deep. As if you’re a different person now, a girl unlike any of the ones he mentioned. Someone who matters, someone who’s solid. You’re back at the beginning. 

A lump forms in your throat. 

“You sure about this?” he asks. 

One part of you, greater and illuminated by his stars, wants it gently like this, with flowers of innocence and purity besprinkled across his features, never leaving you out of his sight, taking care of you. But you fear that if you allow him to be tender, your heart will choose him again and cling to his side. The other, more faint part of you, affected by your decision, thinks it’s better to stick to the role-play, for there’s the aspect of illusoriness that will not bruise anyone’s hearts, especially not yours. It will make you horny, Jungkook will get you off and, glowing, you’ll go home.

You can’t decide. It’s too much of a heavy weight to bear on your shoulders. You can’t do it.

You need him to say the word. You need him to decide what will be the face of the trajectory of your premium friendship. 

Flowery or deceitful? 

A small candlelight in you hopes for gentleness and purity before your fear unfairly puffs it out. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you.” 

Jungkook lays you down and, at last, you feel his manhood against you. He bends to pepper apologetic kisses along the column of your neck and you feel the authenticity of his regret, thrumming against you warmly. Your breath hitches in your throat, the principle of the candlelight in you not being a high hope after all—

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone about this better.” A kiss to your cheek; you stifle your sobs. “I should’ve checked in with you, but I jumped straight in. This was a mistake on my part. I’m sorry.”

He blames himself, not you. 

You want to remain stoic, but his authenticity beckons yours to come out and envelop him whole, gives access to your emotions and you can’t stop the miniature teardrop from flowing down the side of your nose. Neither can you stop the words that follow its footsteps. 

“I should’ve told you first,” you whisper, sniffling. Jungkook furrows his brows at the expression of your pain in tender emotion, wiping it away. “But I was bad—reckless.” 

He chuckles softly, caressing your hair. “You’re an angel. Sent to my side for me. You weren’t bad. I didn’t mean what I'd said.” 

His words, his touch, the kiss he adds to your cheek to punctuate his sentence—Jungkook erases everything that has just happened. 

Newness rushes in your chest, the pouring of spring into summer permeates your whole being. You hear the birds sing, the rustle of flimsy flower petals on tree branches as the warm wind grazes it with its touch. Jungkook seals this feeling by pressing a kiss to your sternum. 

He said it, so it must be so. You trust him. 

The firmness of the cage around your decision unlatches. Doesn’t fly away like the birds. Is a little bit afraid of peeking out. The candlelight returns to light up the room around that cage, blossoming into the sun. 

“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” he says, looking up at you from the place where he dragged your top down to kiss your skin. 

The sun rays in you absorb all of the darkness. The firmness extends one wing. 

You run your fingers through his hair. Figure the only thing the summer in you is missing is the heat. You want him, you want sex and you don’t want to think about feelings or consequences. You don’t want to choose between anything anymore. You just want to enjoy yourself. 

“I meant it when I said that I want you to be my first,” you say, fingers curling around his ear. Jungkook leans into your touch and it’s as if he’s massaging the wing to alleviate it from a cramp due to being tucked in for so long. 

“Okay,” he sighs, taking your hands and pinning them on the pillow and bunny above your head. He sits up, examines you and you wonder if he can see how truly fragile you feel. “Do you trust me?” 

He’s had half a year of going out with you, mingling his life with yours, spending money on you and treating you like an absolute treasure to build your overall trust. And what he did just now? How he erased your pain? Your nod is immediate; you don’t need to think twice. 

“Of course I trust you.” 

“Good.” A soft smile. “I’ll make sure your first time will be beautiful for you.” 

Your heart thuds. His words steal all the breath in your lungs, smoothing out the surface of your body for his stars to fill. Tears prick at your waterline. 

“Are you scared?” 

You’re an empty canvas. 

“Not anymore.” 

Jungkook nods, gladness pulsating off of him. “I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave you, not even once, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

He finds the zipper on the side of your skirt and yanks it down. “How many times do you wanna come?” 

The ridiculousness of the question makes you laugh and you hide your face beneath your palms. “To be honest, I don’t expect to come at all. It is my first time after all.” 

You marvel at the honesty seeping out of you. His work, no doubt. 

Jungkook frowns, ridding you of the skirt, fingers hooking under the hem of your top. At the reveal of your pink, flowery, see-through bra, he stops altogether, stunned. He fondles the material, grazing over your soft nipples, at last reaching the embroidery of the small petals. He gasps in wonder, eyes flicking to your intimate parts to see if you’re wearing a matching set. 

The same flowers adorn the suppleness of your tummy. 

Jungkook smiles at his discovery. Is hasty as he drags the nylon of your tights down your legs, along with your knee socks. 

“I’ll decide how many times you come for me, then.” 

Heat pools in your femininity. There it is, the dominance that you love. Yet this time, it’s laced with his gentleness. Heaven on earth—a meadow full of flowers in the middle of summer. Like the ones on your lingerie. 

Joy grasps your heart. “Do I get to know before you start?” 

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss on your tummy. “What, you wanna count them down for me?” 

You asked just because, but the idea excites you. You nod. 

Your response prolongs the rumble of his laughter and you feel its vibration as he kisses his way up to your clothed breasts. You’d think he’d focus his attention on them, but he straightens—reaches for something behind him and retrieves your white knee socks. He bunches them in his hands and puts them on you as if he were dressing a child. 

Paradoxically, goosebumps spread all over your thighs. 

Smoothing the material over your thighs, he lies back down against you, lips latching on the spillage of your breasts that your bra gives him. While it feels dizzying, you still want to know the number. You poke him in the bulging muscle of his arm and in the process, you flush his cheeks red. 

Jungkook pushes your tits together and licks over the line in the middle. The sight of the shine of his wet tongue against it drenches your pussy, ruining your pretty underwear, and you want him there, on your sweetest spot. Your nipples stand to attention and Jungkook listens to their call, thumbs brushing across them. 

You mewl, grinding your hips against his stomach. 

“Two times when I eat you out; two times around my cock,” he answers finally, awakening your butterflies. “How many times is that, then?” 

Amidst the pleasure, you do the math. “Four.” 

“That’s right. You think you can do that for me?” 

You’re not sure. In fact, you’re not sure of anything—lost in his touch, in his energy. 

“I don’t know,” you say, truthfully, skimming his face for a sliver of disappointment in his features. 

You find none. Only tenderness—round, soft eyes, brown in the light he radiates, nose and mouth buried in your tits, sucking on the skin, making you feel good. 

“That’s okay. We’ll try together. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t come as many times. Or at all. I promise.” 

Your chest clenches. You grab his face and kiss him, licking over his bottom lip before you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook grunts, rolls his own muscle over yours, tasting you, feeling you. He inhales sharply against you, once again taking charge of the kiss, taking each and every thought and negative feeling you had and crushing it to smithereens. 

He lifts you and switches places with you, sitting you down on his lap with your back supported by his chest. He roams his hands all over you—tits, tummy, hips, sides and thighs while he busies his mouth on your shoulder. As your eyes follow each movement, you notice the marks he embellished your breasts with and your arousal grows—so much that you take his wandering hands and hook them under the waistband of your underwear, guiding them down your thighs. 

There’s a change to his breath when his index and middle finger feels up the fleshiness of your cunt for the first time. Hard, raggedy and absolutely tormented. He glides those digits up and down your dewiness, listening for the squelching sound that makes his cock twitch beneath you. 

He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear.  “How do you touch yourself?” 

A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat. 

Jungkook sees you. 

“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer. 

“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.

“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re not really sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind. 

When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—

“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax. 

“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side. 

He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise. 

And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.

He stills the buck of your hips. 

You widen your eyes at the new feeling of fullness and, panicking and constricting around him, you look at Jungkook, who merely strengthens his hold around you. 

“Trust me,” he says, breathing heavily. He doesn’t move his fingers past his first knuckles; he lets you adjust to the size. Gives you a kiss full of tongue to distract you. “Does it burn?”

You begin to pant against his mouth, the high of your orgasm long gone. You’re uncertain to count it as one when it was so short lived, ruined by the sudden plunge of his digits. But much to your surprise, you don’t detect any burn in your walls that he speaks of, which you realize was his intention.

“No, it just feels a bit uncomfortable.” 

He kisses you again. You feel your lips go numb, eyes lidding at the pressure you feel as he sinks his fingers a little bit deeper and begins to move them sluggishly, your slick creating another ring for him around his fingers. You try to meet his thrusts as the visceral sensation of being filled by longer, thicker fingers settles within you and takes roots. You discover that movement is the key to parting the uncomfortable feeling and it steps to the side to let the pleasure walk forward.  

Jungkook presses his palm flat against your clit, guides the pleasure to envelop your body when he plunges his fingers deeper, past the second knuckles and fucks you in swift jerks. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan and he fills in the sound, expressing his fiery delight for you at the clench of your walls against him, accommodating for him, for his desire to stretch you out, so when he finally enters you, no pain comes to greet you. 

Deeper and harder—yes, that’s what feels good. You roll your body, becoming waves of the sea as wetness and the build up of pleasure—seafoam—is all your senses wrap around. 

“Feels good, baby?” 

His need to check in with you speeds up the nearing expansion of your orgasm. Pointer and pinky finger digging into the skin of your backside, you watch the in and out motion, the digits coming out wetter and wetter each time.

“Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come. I’m so close.” 

It’s quicker. Way quicker than your first tiny orgasm. He slips in and out of you so smoothly—you’re obsessed with the sight, ravaged by it entirely. You grind your hips and fuck yourself back, picking up the pace but slowing down instantly when you feel yourself at the peak of your climax.

You want to prolong it. You love the feeling too much to end it too soon.

Jungkook stops your movements fully.

“I want to be the one who makes you come,” he murmurs. “I want to be the one who fucks your brain out. I want to feel you squeeze around my fingers. Fuck, I want it so bad.” 

His hand drifts to your neck just to hold you there, the other, the busy one, fingers you harder, your fast approaching orgasm blinding your senses. Your drenched cunt squelches around him, the sound so lewd it causes you to seek comfort—your hand flies to his on your throat, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the tip of your pointer reaching the fat bulb of bunny’s head on his ring. 

Harder and faster. A scalding fire burns you and you just take it. Loll your head back against his shoulder, giving him the space to grip your jawline. Flames grow closer and closer, leaving a layer of sheen on your body in its wake. You feel the sudden need to pee.

“Oh my god, Gguk—” Your muscles tense. Close, so close. “Gguk, Gguk—”

“What, baby? What’s the matter?” he husks, squeezing your neck once. “You’re gonna come for me? Gonna come on my fingers?” 

You nod quickly, too quickly. Flames of the sun, licking you. Flames of the summer heat. Just what you wanted. 

Jungkook opens your jaw, swirling his tongue around yours. “Let go. Come for me. You can do it, I got you—I got you. Come for me, baby, please.”

Obeying his desperate order, you do.

A small stream of your pleasure, a faint fountain, trickles out of you and into his hand. He gasps, in unison with your whimpers, and you’re transmitted elsewhere. The wildly colorful, blooming meadow on a hill, overlooking the languorous sea and he’s there. Reaches behind himself. Offers you his hand. The wind ruffles his black hair, sweeps it back and you’re giddy—as giddy as Bam, as giddy as you were in the moment the slid the white bunny ring on your finger—to take the last two of his slender fingers, the pinky and the ring, and sit with him by the edge of the cliff. 

“Did so well for me.” 

The whisper takes you back and you awake. 

You’re different. Incandescent. Of life, of stars and its light, of growing fondness for the man you sit perched on the lap of, whose fingers still remain sheathed inside of you. He changed you. Perpetually, absolutely. He changed you and made you into something new. Something that is softer, more elegant—smaller but assertive. Alluring and kind. Indisputably good. 

He fucked everything negative out of you with his fingers. Left the vast canvas of stars inside of you.

You’re no longer a plain spread of cotton, but a living, breathing artwork. His artwork.

Once he fucks you with his cock, you wonder what further internal changes are going to occur within you.

You feel a great deal of gratitude for him—and you want to reciprocate all that he’s done for you. You want to work hard at it. Spoil him. Make him whimper. You believe he deserves it.   

“You finger yourself often? How come you took my fingers so well, hm?” 

You’re panting, unable to speak. Absorbing the sharpness of the stars, acclimatizing to the change. 

“I guess you do, huh?” he deduces. “Good little girl, preparing herself for me.” 

For the life of you, you can’t catch your breath.

Jungkook kisses your cheek deeply. Pecks you on the same spot a hundred times, slowly taking out his fingers. Lets you see your slick coating his fingers and, softly, you gasp at the little ripples of wrinkles upon the tips of his fingers, mouth parting.

And then he sinks them into your mouth. 

His hardness twitches behind you and you moan, your daintily bittersweet taste making your head spin. And when you look at him, you’re met with the utmost pink-dusted adoration painted on his face. You kiss it, inhaling it, letting it flow into your system so it suffuses your bloodstream, letting him taste you. You may not feel your lips, but the sentient poetry of the stars begins to sing in you. His stars. You feel like a flushed floweret visited by a bee. Spent, but happy. 

Happy to be wanted.

Good, because he said you were.

As if internally intertwined with him, you feel the identical heat tinge your cheeks. 

He says nothing as he lays you down and spreads your legs back to the way they were. Though when he’s graced with the sight of your bare cunt in all her glory, his face says everything that his mouth isn’t capable of. Hunger and torture—lips agape, corners of the mouth shiny with the rush of drool and Jungkook wipes it away, then lowers his fingers to your clit, to your lips, becoming more acquainted with this intimate part of you that no one had seen before him. He traces your small hole, even going as far as to your other, tinier hole and you yelp, stopping his exploration. 

Jungkook merely chuckles, eyes darting to yours. “You’re so pretty.” You grow so hot that you think you must be on fire. “Especially there.” 

You mewl, shrinking, hands looking for anything to hold and finding his bunny plushie. You take her into your arms, inhaling a scent that could never be hers. You recognize immediately whose it is. 

Musk, vanilla, wood. 

The thought of Jungkook cradling her while he sleeps moves you and you pout. 

“How we feeling?” he asks, still caressing your fleshy cunt, dripping with dew. 

Overjoyed. Overstimulated.

Heavenly.

“Good.” 

A foxy smile. “How many orgasms was that, hm?” 

You don’t know where your shyness comes from and why it chokes all of the words you want to say. You bury your face in bunny for a moment, taking a breath to fight against it, so you can please him because that’s all you yearn to do. 

You open your mouth, but no words come out. 

Jungkook stifles a laugh and it makes you feel terrible. And it’s worse when he leans over to kiss you, turns his head at the last moment and faces bunny.

“Bunny, how many times did she come?” he asks her, offering her his ear to hear her answer. Looks at you. Widens his eyes. Gasps. “Two,” he mouths. Listens some more. Nods. “I know she thought she wouldn’t come at all. Crazy, right?” Then he lets out an endearing sound. “She said she’d believed you could do it the moment you said it. She’s so happy for you. How cute,” he coos. 

You giggle, the bridge in your throat loosening, light flooding you, over and over, until you think you can’t take any more of it. You feel so full, so happy and the sensation threatens to pour out of your tear ducts. 

It heals something within you—that he treats you like this at your most vulnerable state. Your inner child flares, the stars the strength that fixes her stoop, helping her arise, stand straight, stand powerfully. 

He smiles down fondly at you. “So what number are we at?” 

You hide your face behind your hands. “Two.” 

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.” 

You drop your hands and with as much energy as you can muster, you repeat the number. 

He purrs, caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” As a reward, as if the praise wasn’t enough, he kisses you deeply. “Will you let me taste you?” 

You swallow his desire, but speak up your own, “I want to taste you first, please.” 

Jungkook hums, curses under his breath. He straightens and kneels before your form, fingers pinching the back of his T-shirt and pulling it over his body. You catch the sight of his broad shoulders, of each dip and muscle, and your irises grown in width. Him ridding himself of his clothes dishevels his hair and as he untangles his arms from the material, he smiles down at you, noticing your stare. 

He caresses the back of your thigh before his hand flies to his hard length. He palms himself once, then continues to undress—tugs his sweatpants down to his knees, though he doesn’t bother himself to fully take them off. The shape of him is more prominent through the fabric of his white Calvins, the bulge of his mushroom wet and pellucid, and you sit up, hand itching to touch him, to join his in making him feel good, but he cups your chin—forcing you to look up at him. 

He swipes his thumb over your lips. “You want it?” 

You nod. “So bad.” 

Jungkook curses again, the sound low and rough. 

“Touch it,” he orders and both of your hands listen, wrapping around his girth, squeezing beneath the head of his cock. The thickness of him makes you see the light of the stars that you sense fluttering feverishly inside of you. Your mind is too empty, too washed out by your orgasm, by the change that you don’t even think about how you’re going to take him. Jungkook hisses, tilting his head back before he looks down at you intently. “You did this before?” 

You’ve never seen one in real life before, let alone touched one.

“I’ve never let anyone get this close.” 

Jungkook strokes your pigtails. “How come you know what to do then?” 

Instinct or memory from porn you watched—you don’t know, it all blends together within the fuzziness of your mind. And you tell him.

“I watch a lot of porn.” 

Jungkook smiles coyly and it strikes you. You’ve never seen him smile this way before or, even, feel this way before. All you know from him is dominance, dominance and dominance. 

You release him from the confines of his boxers and repress your gasp. His ever glistening tip reaches just below his navel and the thickness of his girth obscures most of his pubic hair. Along with the sound of your surprise, you also have a hard time swallowing the saliva collecting in your mouth. 

“I want you so bad,” you whisper, needy eyes looking up at him. Shy, too shy to let your gaze linger at the most intimate part of him. 

He sucks in a breath at your words, hissing. And you need him inside of you all over again. 

Fuck fuzzines in your mind. You’re fuzzy all over. Wrecked with nerves, suddenly. Your hands tremble, hovering in front of his manhood. Jungkook covers them with his, soothing you, and guides you to his shaft. Wraps your fingers around him. Doesn’t let go. 

The feel of him under his supervision is slow. He allows you to take in every ridge of him, every vein—the softness of his skin, the warmth and the weight. Round after round, up and down, until you get familiarized with him. A trickle of his male essence drips down the side of him and your tongue instinctively darts out. Like your hands, Jungkook’s breath shakes and he anticipates your next move, despite the fact he’s in charge. 

He’s been patient all this time, giving you the time you needed. But that hardly applies when you have him in your hands, when you own his neediness. His whimpers while he waits coax your slick out of you, soaking the bedding beneath you and you can’t take it anymore. 

Neither, evidently, can he. 

“Baby, please,” Jungkook croaks out. Tortured, so terribly tortured. Grip tight and clammy around your hands. 

So vulnerable. 

You ache. 

You lick up a stripe of his essence on the side of his cock and Jungkook shudders. Shifting onto your knees, you show him the milkie on the tip of your tongue and Jungkook pulls your hair, tilting your head back. Kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Moans, lowly. Then, he holds his girth at the base and pushes your head. 

When you take him, a mewl ripples around the thickness of him. His eyes roll back and his grasp of your hair tightens, burning your scalp, adding to the fire. He lets you feel it out; lets you figure out what to do, testing your knowledge from the porn you’ve watched. And the tensing of his stomach divulges his strained effort not to fuck your mouth. 

You go slow about it. Swirling your tongue around that rosy head of his, along that delicious ridge, licking a flat stripe across that line of his slit. Getting to know him in all those intimate places, relying on your senses—on them to tell you what he likes. Your hand begins to move on its own, gliding back and forth in tandem with your tongue stimulating his sensitivity. You try not to think about how you can barely fit him in your mouth, because if you do—you’ll ruin his bedsheets. 

But then Jungkook hums in approval, sending a gush of wetness out of you and you whimper—you whimper at the worsening ache you feel, at the helplessness that pools in your system by being just so filthily wet and horny. 

He moves your hand faster. Breath jagged, bedroom eyes zeroing down on you. And then—

Jungkook moans your name. Over and over, clenching and unclenching his hand on the back of your head. 

“Don’t have to teach you shit,” he spits. “You just watch porn all day, don’t you? Naughty girl.” 

Losing control for a split second, he rams his cock into your throat—and you don’t panic, you don’t yelp. Instead, you groan. 

He pulls you away from him with a sharp tug. Kisses you harshly. Shoves you down into the pillows with one push on your sternum.

Bending you in half, he drinks your cunt. Lips immediately suck on your needy bundle of nerves and it’s so fast you don’t even know which part of you he’s focusing on because he’s everywhere. Clit, hole, clit, hole—sucking, licking. Alternating, alternating so swiftly and deliciously that you completely lose your mind. 

And then he lifts your hips and holds them in the air, wanting you to see what he’s doing to you. Like you, he darts out his tongue and teases you, hovering the muscle above your clit. Shiny, nimble, capable of doing unspeakable things to you. He watches as your pussy drools for him and he chuckles darkly. Tongue lowering to collect it, but unlike you he never does it. He lets the dew trickle down your skin. 

“Cute little pussy. So wet. Wetter than when I fucked it. You liked playing with me on your knees, didn’t you?” 

With your fucked out brain, you don’t think it’s taunting what he’s doing. You deem it’s just him reveling in what he’s able to do to your body—in the fact that he owns it, that he teaches it new things. The glint in his dusky, lustful eyes proves it. 

Jungkook drags a long stripe on your clit, making your eyes flutter closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip to cage in your moans. 

“Talk to me.” 

You can’t. You don’t know how to talk. 

He stares you down. 

No answer from you. Just hard pants. Pussy drooling. 

“I won’t play with you, then.” 

Panic. “No.” 

He cocks a brow at you. “No?” 

Silence. 

He begins to lower you down but you grip his forearm. 

“Jungkook.” 

Bent over above you, head low, he merely flicks his eyes to yours. Duskiness, such blackening duskiness in those orbs. 

“Beg.” 

All your muscles tense. Wetness gushes out of you. 

Lucky for you, that word he wants is the one you haven’t forgotten. 

“Please.” 

“Please what?” 

You groan in frustration. 

“Be nice or—”

“Please, lick me.” 

That dark chuckle. You feel yourself becoming obsessed with it. 

“Where?” 

A challenge. Your throat dries up. 

“There.” 

He shakes his head disapprovingly, making a sound that expresses just how much he didn’t like that. 

“Try again. Last chance, little girl.” 

The loving smile on his face says everything about how that threat is feigned. You hear it tell you—you have as many chances as you need. He’s merely encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone. 

And something about that mellow, hidden kindness gently ushers you to do just that. 

“Lick my clit, please.” 

A hum. A long stripe on that sensitive, thumping spot. A roll of his tongue forward and backward.  

“Like this?” 

You choke out a moan. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Or—” He blows on you, causing you to tremble. “Like this?”

He shakes his head against you briskly, not yet at a full tilt. Just like his, your body shudders in his hands and he tightens his grip on your supple hips. You can’t take it, the pleasure is overwhelming and—

“Look at me,” he orders and you open your eyes, immediately. “Like this?” 

Jungkook adds more pressure and rapidness to the movement, leaving you glazed sweetly in the sheen of his saliva. He moves your hips up and down on the firmness of his tongue and you scream, taking a strong hold of his hair.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck, Daddy—”

Shocked, Jungkook groans against your pussy, slowing down to ingest what your mouth has just uttered. It’s more than natural to call him by a title like this, instinctual, innate. It fits him so well and it drenches your pussy, your slick amalgamating with his liquid love. You’re certain he feels the rush.

Your Daddy. 

You roll your hips against his tongue. Dark and more dark, those eyes of his. Bottomless pit.

“Fuck yes, call me Daddy again.” 

The whimpers you let out are pathetic and Jungkook shudders at them, groaning. You whine the title over and over again, a verdant, dreamlike litany of your feminine sexuality pampered, cared for, supervised. Jungkook accepts the gravity of it all, each declaration propelling him to suck your clit harder, bruises forming on your hips from his deathly grip, black eyes never leaving yours, hypnotizing you. 

And when you come like this, it’s unification what happens. 

You’re bound to him and he’s bound to you. 

Daddy and little girl. 

Throughout your sexual experience today, you had a hard time accepting things but this—this is something that slept inside of you all your life and just now has been awoken to a flickering canvas of bright stars. You feel it blink, adjust to the piercing light, before it smiles dolefully—happy to be conscious, happy to be caressed.

Jungkook kisses you and takes his time. The taste of your femininity, the fresh coldness of your change, the strong wine of his desire. You’re drunk. You’re slurring your mewls. 

And one thing about unification, it’s a mirror. 

You swallow down the same mewls, uttered by his throat. 

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you,” he whispers, adjusting between your legs. “Will be gentle. You’re safe with me.” 

He rakes the tip of his length along the entirety of your little sea-kissed seashell. 

“You want it? You want Daddy’s cock inside of you?” 

Jungkook looks into your eyes deeply as he asks you that question, the tip ready at your significantly smaller hole. He peppers kisses along your jawline and chin. 

“I’m scared it’ll hurt,” you murmur, brows furrowed. 

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth. 

“We’ll chase the pain away,” he promises.

Your frown deepens. 

“But what if it doesn’t fit?” 

You expect him to chuckle, but he does no such thing. He absorbs your worry by kissing you tenderly. Then he glances at your body. Remembers he never took off your bra and fixes his mistake. 

“You may be small, but you were made to take me,” he says and your heart skips a beat; you wonder if he understands the gravity of his words as they take roots within you, rising to bloom into splendid flowers. “Besides, my dick is tiny. You won’t even feel it.” 

It is so far from the truth that you burst into giggles. He laughs along with you—a mirror reflected. 

Stars and flowers. Sea and freshness. You were made to take him. You trust him. 

He kisses your breasts, licking over your nipple—but briefly. Holding his shaft, he asks if you’re ready. You nod, your fingers desperately searching for his and Jungkook notices. Sinking slowly inside of you, he grabs his bunny plushie and tucks her into the crook of your elbow. 

There’s a pinch of pain, blended with the feeling of discomfort as your walls stretch around his head. 

Seeing it painted on your face, Jungkook draws close, enveloping you and bunny in his heat. Pushes a little more in. You wail softly, the pain intensifying. Fear intermingles with your features and Jungkook—the worry in his countenance makes you almost weep.

“Hold onto me,” he says, brows scrunched, so—so serious. “Relax, baby. I got you.”

You hook your arms around his neck, bunny sandwiched between your chest and his. Jungkook saves this time to let you adjust around him. 

“I know it hurts,” he whispers onto your mouth, index finger, the ringed one, stretching to graze your cheek. “Just relax your muscles for me. It’ll feel good soon.” 

You nod, trusting him. 

He pecks you. Smiles. 

“How many orgasms are we at?” 

You roll your eyes, your own smile threatening your lips. “Three.”

Jungkook hums. Pecks you again. You feel your walls loosening, little by little.

A smug smirk. “You didn’t expect that, did you?” 

“You obliterated my expectations.” 

“Just wait until I fuck you properly.” 

You blush, eyes twinkling. 

“Pretty girl.” He kisses you and you feel your attachment forming again, though this time—newly. As light, as free as an entanglement of seaweed upon seashore, you and him. Connected. Bound. No fear, not even a hint of it. “I heard you watch porn.” 

Your flush deepens. Jungkook sinks a little deeper. A faint pain—nothing bad. 

“Who told you?” You laugh, the sound ridding you of your shyness. 

But Jungkook grows solemn.

“Tell me what kind you watch,” he whispers, angling his head to give you a tiny kiss. 

Your cheeks hurt from the smiling, from the onrush of emotions within you, sloshing to and fro. You feel hot all over.

“The one where all the focus is on the girl,” you whisper back. “The guy uses all kinds of toys on her and she just takes it. Comes so many times and there’s a countdown for it.”

Humming, he begins to nibble on the skin beneath your jaw, making your breath shallow. He pushes in another inch—and the pain is worse. You tighten your grip around him.

“And how many times do you come when you watch it?” Deep, deep is his voice, the calmness to your nerves due to the pricking you feel. 

“I don’t stop coming.” 

Jungkook swears under his breath and clenches his digits into a fist beside your head.

“And you finger yourself?” 

You nod, confidently. Another inch. He smiles at your confirmation of his deduction.

“How many fingers?” 

You scoff. “Just one.” 

“Well done,” he praises, kissing you once, keeping his mouth on you even as he asks, “ready?” 

You nod, again, even though there’s fright to your eyes. He sees it and he brushes his eyelashes against your eyelids while he kisses you, taking it all away. And he doesn’t stop, even as he pulls out and thrusts back into your heat. Gently, so awfully gently. 

He didn’t break his promise. 

Jungkook rocks his hips in slow, sensual, prolonged staccatos, moaning into your parted mouth. You’re so focused on him—on the bulging of his muscles on the either side of your head, the broadness of his shoulders, the slick sweat dripping down his neck, right from the top of his tattoo; on the sheerness of his pleasure as he moves in and out, carefully so as to not frighten you, that the pain quickly subsides. 

And there you feel it. 

The sensation unlike any other. 

He rams into you, seeing the wrinkle between your brows smoothing, the lust clouding your eyes as the delight spreads all over your body, bringing along little dots of goosebumps. The night sea, windless, still hot from the afternoon’s goodbye kiss. You feel it—and you feel it deeply, sinking inside of you with every inch of his manhood. So much that you meet his thrusts. 

“That’s it, baby. Fuck yes,” Jungkook murmurs, enraging the waves within. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being fucked?” 

Stars and its light. He picks up the pace, hooking your leg over his shoulder, entering you deeper and deeper, giving you more than half. The thrill of feeling so full—you curse, you moan, you can’t hold it in, even if you tried. And Jungkook coos at your conveyance of the pleasure he’s giving you, never lifting his eyes off of yours, off of your features, your emotions. Surveying you, controlling you, making sure you’re okay—more than okay.

You sense the pressure coil deep within your core, the sense of your climax approaching and you’re astonished at how quick it is. You halt your own movements, needing—wanting him to be the one to get you there, the one who owns your orgasms. 

“Gguk, Gguk, fuck—”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m gonna make you come all over my cock.” 

He fucks you harder, making you cry out. Deep, deep staccatos, so different from the slow, languid ones. You can’t catch your breath, the sea within you sloshes violently and then—

Softly, you sprinkle him with your fountain of pleasure. Not enough to drive him out, but sweetly enough to force him to groan against you and pound you harder into the mattress. Continuing as if you hadn’t come. 

You don’t have the time or the space to think about what just happened—he fucks each and every thought of you. 

“My little squirter,” Jungkook mutters, kissing you. “One more, baby. One more for me and I’ll paint you with my cummie. Hm, you want that?” You’re gone, flung out of this world into a tranquil island. The palm trees, the sea and his cock. Your emotions are numb, body limp. All you feel is his cock, ramming and ramming into you. “Or you wanna swallow it for me like a good girl?” 

“Swallow, please,” you croak out and Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Rewards you by giving you the full thing, filling you balls-deep. 

“You feel me?” He kisses you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth. 

Glorious, glorious delight. You can’t breathe. Too much. 

“I feel you—” You lift your head to look down where you’re connected. “I—I feel you in my stomach.” 

Sitting back, he lifts your hips and palms the bulge just a little bit above your mound. Feels it move under him once he resumes fucking you. He replaces his hand with yours, keeping you distracted as he undoes the ribbon in your hair and ties your wrists with it. Right there above the bulge, where he fucks you. Then he latches onto your hips and jackhammers his cock into you, watching as your tits along with bunny bounce with each slam. 

“You look so pretty like this, tied up for me, taking all that I’m giving you,” he says, thumbing your clit, making you cry out. “Such a good fucking girl for me. I’m bringing you up so well.” 

“Daddy,” you call out and Jungkook nods.

“Yes, that’s right. Daddy is fucking you so good.” 

White flashes. Seafoam. The pressure in your tummy deepening and deepening. The roar of the night sea and your body following—you come all over him, painting him iridescent with your dewiness. His joggers, dragged halfway down his thighs, his boxers are all ruined—pelvis, thighs and cock glistening. It’s such a beautiful image to you that it suffuses you with energy and you begin to speak. 

“Please, come for me.” 

Surprised, Jungkook chuckles. “Don’t you have orgasms to count down?” 

The ever persistent need for control. You kiss him, slip your tongue into his mouth to shut him up and you struggle against your ribbon, for the feeling of kissing him without your hands makes you feel iffy.

“Five. I came five times for you just like you wanted,” you whisper. “You fucked me so good. I’ll never forget it.” 

And it’s the truth.

Jungkook pecks you once deeply, humming into the kiss. He pulls out of you and whilst he strokes his cock, his fingers tug down the ribbon around your wrists. You take your place on your knees, gazing with awe and hunger at his shiny length. And as if he needed it, he plunges his fingers into your mouth for more lubrication. Then, grabbing your jawline gently, he pulls you in towards his cock, letting your lips play with his tip the way you like it as he jerks himself off. You flick your tongue under the ridge of his head and his length twitches, stunning you. You do it again, more rapidly, and you don’t stop until Jungkook begins to tremble. Pulling him inside your mouth, then out, flicking faster and faster. Repeat. 

Jungkook grunts. 

“Yes, like that, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna come for you.” 

He announces it, but it still comes as a surprise when the first rope of hot cum spills onto your flushed cheek. You suck him harder for a moment before you stick out your tongue, eyes flick up, as he empties his balls for you, his hand never ceasing the swift tug on his length. 

And he just keeps coming. Rope after rope. Liquid star after star.

And you swallow it all. 

Spent, sweaty and breathless, he helps you swallow it. Dragging his fingers to the places your tongue can’t reach, he feeds you his cum and you suck on his digits. Your heart thuds in your ribcage, especially when he begins to play with your tongue, smiling down at you in that dopey way. 

He pats you on the cheek once you show him you’ve swallowed it all. 

“Good girl. Good little princess.” 

That you are. A changed person for all eternity.

“Is your tummy full?” 

You nod, beaming vehemently up at him, the aftertaste of the bitterness of his liquid stars still wafting through your senses.

The three forbidden words rise in your tongue, even though you don’t believe them—you think it’s just the opulence of new emotions and experience that forces those words on your tongue. But they remain adamant when he bathes you clean, when he brushes your hair and gives you his clothes to wear to bed. They provoke you right there on the tip of your tongue when he gives you his zipper hoodie to wear on his balcony once you tell him you need a smoke and he joins you, giving you his pack of cigarettes. 

And they come off the edge, in a different form, when you tell him of how he changed you while you hold his hand and he caresses your damp strands with a cigarette propped between his index and middle fingers, kissing your cheek. The smoke fixes a makeshift halo around both of your heads. One body, one halo. Bound.

“You’re such a lovable person, Gguk.”

What you don’t know is that those mere words changed the entire trajectory of his life. Yours, too.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two, part three

[reignpage]

Forgive me, Father!

Summary: you have something to confess and Nanami is more than willing to hear you out Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: porn with little plot, fem!reader, dubcon, improper use of a confessional booth, manhandling, choking, unprotected sex, cursing, slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, squirting, blowjob, fingering, not proofread

Priest!Nanami waits for you in the confessional booth. He’s the local priest that everyone trusts, he even teaches at the orphanage, providing a stable figure for all the lost souls born here and that pass through. 

“What brings you here, my child?”

Priest!Nanami’s voice is deep and gruff, vibrating against the thick wood of the booth. It pierces your core, travelling straight to your pussy. You press your legs together. This is bad, so very bad. You shouldn’t be feeling this way for him; he’s a good man, an upstanding citizen, a pillar of the community. 

“F-forgive me, Father. I’ve been having bad thoughts, and I don’t know what to do.”

Priest!Nanami hums. You can see his figure through the privacy screen, the perforated divide granting only slight view of his cassock, the black robe a familiar sight, as you rest your knees on the kneeler, clasping your hands at your chest. 

“Bad thoughts, you say?” He asks. “What kind of bad thoughts, my dear?”

Lips quivering you answer, “I don’t think I should say, Father. I’d hate for you to resent me.”

Priest!Nanami insists, “Oh, but how can I guide you if I do not know what path you stray down?”

“Father, I’ve been thinking of you, wondering how your body feels under your robe and dreaming of your taste. I’m so terribly sorry, Father. Forgive me!”

Priest!Nanami chuckles. 

“That is very bad, indeed. I fear you have been possessed by a lustful spirit, and it must be repelled before it consumes you wholeheartedly.”

You trust him with your life, just as everyone does, so when he slides the slot beneath the privacy screen to the side, you don’t hesitate to part your lips to suck up the healing essence of his holy sceptre. 

It coats your lips, salty and scalding, as you widen your jaw to take as much of him down as you can.

“Very good, my dear,” he groans. “Just a little more and you’ll be healed in no time.”

His huge cock head presses against the back of your throat, the veins rubbing against your tongue, and he begins making shallow thrusts into your hot, wet mouth. 

Priest!Nanami makes a low groan and it travels straight to your pussy, urging you to take him deeper, tongue swirling around the underside of the head.

"You have a gifted mouth -ha- very gifted, indeed," he praises.

You needed this so badly. So many nights spent wondering how he feels and now your throat is being stretched to the very shape of his cock. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, the wetness of your pussy coating your inner thighs. One hand slides down your belly, pushing your dress up so you can soothe the ache. 

Priest!Nanami pulls his cock away, ignoring your whines of complaint, and through the holes of the privacy screen, he chastises you, “Now now, you know better than to feed that demonic spirit with shallow pleasure. Only a trained professional can wash away that which plagues you.”

“Yes, Father.”

Priest!Nanami makes shuffling noises in his side, and with a candle as your only source of light in the penitent’s chamber, you can only see only he hasn't abandoned you, leaving you aching and soaked.

The door bangs open, light blinding you momentarily, and you stare up at the silhouette of a tall, broad figure blocking you from view. You’re still kneeling, lips glistening. He appears before you, like an angel of the night.

Priest!Nanami is smiling, glasses hiding his eyes but you know they’re gliding down your form, stopping at your heaving breasts and your exposed thighs. 

“Turn and face the wall,” he barks, and then adds, “Spread your legs.”

Clambering to position, you do as he says, pressing your hands to the cold wood and keeping your legs apart. The door shuts and you’re once again encased in partial darkness. A firm hand palms your hip, and you jolt with the sudden heat. 

He yanks you closer to him, ass jutting out whilst your back arches. Something long and hard presses against you. You clench down onto nothing.

“So well behaved, the Lord would be very pleased,” he mutters into your ear, hot breath tickling you. 

With one hand still on your hip, the other slides across your stomach, spreading heat there before it climbs up, palming a breast and relishing in the weight. His finger tweaks the nipple poking through the thin material, blunt nails scratching your taut bud. 

“Father!” You gasp, ass grinding back onto him much harder than before. Your back arches painfully. 

“It is alright, my dear. It is all part of the process — we must relieve you of this evil.”

Priest!Nanami yanks the neckline, revealing your breasts. They bounce with the force and graze the wooden wall. You moan. And then the hand on your hip is inching downwards, gathering the skirt of your dress into a fist which he orders you to keep up whilst his hand explores further the apex of your thighs. 

His fingers touch the soaked gusset of your panties and together you groan. 

Huskily, he chuckles, “I see this is a particularly powerful spirit; you’re so desperately trying to expel its force. But be not afraid, my child, I will search deep within and seek it out for you.”

With expert work, he pushes your panties to the side and coats his fingers with your juice, using the lubricant to circle your clit. You squeal. The untainted hands of the priest feel smooth against your smouldering flesh as he rubs that bundle of nerves with unyielding pressure. 

Priest!Nanami’s mouth descends on the crook of your neck, sucking the salt of your skin before licking a stripe up the expanse. His fingers go lower, pressing inside your pulsing hole.

“You’re so tight, my dear. I see I’ll have to take extra care to alleviate you of your ailment.”

He curls those fingers inside, pressing hard against that spongy spot inside you that has you leaking onto his fingers even more. Again and again, he thrusts those fingers in, making sure to hit that spot over and over, ignoring the whimpers leaving your lips. Sloshing and plopping resound in the space, there’s no shame left inside you to care about the indecent sounds he’s wrangling out of your sloppy cunt.

“Oh, Father! I think I feel the spirit leaving,” you yelp.

He mouths at your jaw, teeth scraping the skin gently but with the promise of pain, before his thumb circles your clit. And then you’re shaking, back arching and mouth slacking as you feel the pressure inside burst. An elongated moan departs your lips, reverberating against the walls. 

You're struggling to keep your dress up with one hand, whilst the other holds you up on the wall. Your limbs are aching, just like your insides, melting like candle wax, flooding down your legs..

“Well done, child. Fight against the demonic spirit, just like that,” he coos as you ride his fingers. 

“Father? Are you in there?”

 Another voice rings out. It’s dull, coming from the outside. You still. 

Priest!Nanami doesn’t respond. But he removes his fingers from inside your pussy, smearing your wetness all over your lips before pushing them inside your mouth. You suckle with no complaints. 

In a low warning, he orders, “Be a good girl and keep quiet for me, yes?”

You nod. 

Without hearing any rustling, he retrieves his cock from the confines of his trousers and rubs them along your slit. He’s so hard and hot, you’re resisting the urge to squeeze your thighs around it. Back and forth, he coats his length with your juices, squelches sounding out. His cock head catches on your clit, and you moan around his fingers. 

“Father, may I come in? I’d like to talk to you about my son’s struggles in school. I fear I am not equipped to provide the necessary support and would like your guidance.”

Priest!Nanami he pierces your pussy with his throbbing cock. You scream into his palm, eyes rolling back. And with no further warnings, he’s dragging your hips back and forth, up and down his length. 

Priest!Nanami scolds you, “Fuck, you’re so tight, my dear. What a devious cunt, trying to milk my cock before I can even -ngh- exorcise you of this demon.”

The stretch is immaculate, forcing your wet cavern to memorise the shape just as your throat had. And his cock pokes your sensitive point with every thrust, drawing dulled moans after moans from your drooling mouth, with every slap slap slap.

Messy and squelching, your pussy cries out at the huge intrusion, sucking him in and pushing him out simultaneously. He’s churning your pulsing insides, dragging his cock head all the way to that tight ring at your entrance before ramming back inside.

Priest!Nanami grunts in your ear, “You must have done -ngh- something very wrong for our Heavenly Father to weaken his protection over you, otherwise you would not have been so -ha- vulnerable to such a potent malevolent spirit.”

“I’m sorry, Father,” you beg, his fingers leaving your mouth so he can pinch your nipple, pulling it taut. “But I’m so scared!”

“No need to fret, child. I will -ha- eradicate you of all that is holding you -so tight- back from enlightenment.”

He’s pummelling his cock harder and faster inside of you, the tip kissing your cervix in a way that has you seeing his stars. Letting go of your hip, he uses his to force you into submission, skin slapping and juices flying as he knocks you back with the force. 

Priest!Nanami’s hand circles your throat, squeezing every time you clench down on his cock. He’s robbing you of air, head growing lightheaded with the pressure. Your hips push back onto his. 

“Father? I'm very worried for my son.”

Her pleadings continue, unacknowledged and barely heard, as he reaches deeper inside you, heavy balls slapping against your clit. You can’t ponder too long on the desperation in her voice because the priest is turning your face around to kiss you. 

Priest!Nanami’s tongue dives into your mouth, seeking yours. The kiss is wet and sloppy just as you are down there, and he’s grunting with every thrust. You’re both growing more and more desperate for release, his cock ramming inside your tight cunt with an increasing tempo. 

“The spirit is weakening; can you feel it?” He enquires, hand leaving your breast to pull yours away from your dress, guiding it, instead, to your lower abdomen. You can feel the outline of his massive cock going in and out. He presses your hand harder. 

You feel that pressure inside grow, a sudden desire to pee overcoming you. 

“No, Father! I can’t!” You whimper against the wall, hoping that the woman outside can't hear the way you’re panting, how your pussy is weeping, and how he's pounding you so hard you're seeing stars. He growls encouragements in your ear, fuelling your own pleasure. 

Priest!Nanami kisses the back of your neck through the layer of sweat, tasting your skin. He leaves your hand and rubs your clit once more. 

You cum.

Your vision goes black, a scream lodged in your throat as you squirt all over his cock, soaking his length and splashing against the wood. 

“That’s it. Keep fucking yourself onto my cock,” he groans, still rubbing your clit as he himself cums with one hard, final thrust. Warmth explodes inside of you, painting your walls with his holy essence, punishing that demon within until it quietens down. “What a heavenly pussy, milking me so good. Such a good girl.”

“F-father? I’ll come back later,” the woman stammers. 

In the distance, you hear the quick patter of feet fading further away. 

You fall limp within his arm, heaving and still spasming from the effects of your orgasm. He holds you up in his arms, kissing your neck and whispering soothing compliments. 

Priest!Nanami slumps onto the floor, taking you with him. Your head rests on his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart as he catches his breath too. His clergy collar is askew, and you fix it for him with a shaky hand. He grabs it and presses a kiss to your knuckles. 

“That was a good one, Kenny,” you breathe out with a giggle. “I told you you’d enjoy it.”

He grunts in agreement. “You’re always right, honey.”

“Of course, I am. But hey! For someone who was so reluctant, you were incredible.”

He kisses your forehead. 

“I think you were incredible. Your acting skills have certainly improved.”

You laugh. “You weren’t so bad yourself — you had me believing I actually have a demon inside.”

Husband!Nanami blushes and his eyes dart up to the door, a hand groping your breast like his own personal stress ball, and with a sheepish tone, he admits, “The real priest is going to have a lot to deal with after this.”

You bolt upright. “Speaking of the real priest, his break is ending any minute now, we should get going!”

The door slams open and you both look up at an unimpressed man, long hair tied up into a bun as he sighs. 

“You two again?”

[thewritetofreespeech]

Tender Loving Care

pairing: Aemond x Reader

summary: after a training accident, Aemond's wife takes care of him. In more ways than one.

tags: heterosexual sex, cowgirl, massage, hand job, cum eating, cranky Aemond is a good boy for his wife, mentions of the other members of the Green but not present.

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

Training accidents were as common as breathing if one wanted to master the sword.

If one wanted to hold a blade, then one must also be prepared to suffer its bite. Aemond was well aware of this. Even though it was just training, play fighting for the knights & instructors brought in from all over Westeros to teach the prince, he had been cut before. Nothing serious. Nothing like his eye. He wishes it had been. It would make this latest injury less wounding than the others.

A simple misstep, that was all. His own clumsiness was what put him in this bed. His leg wasn’t broken or maimed, but twisted in his fall, to the point that he could put no weight on it. Or at least that was what the maesters said.

2 weeks. That was the punishment for his own mistake. He was not to leave this bed save to relieve himself and the few moments a day he was granted to stand & test his legs progress. Each day was a new torment. Not for the pain, Aemond could handle that, but the failure of trying his leg and only have it betray him again & again. He wondered how his father did it all those years trapped in his bed. Aemond would have begged for death sooner.

“Husband,” the prince looked up from his window and thoughts of limping over to throw himself out of it, when his wife’s voice came into the room.

One of his few constant visitors during his confinement. Helaena came to visit him but was busy with her children. Aegon only came once, to taunt him about his trip more than anything before he left and a back handed ‘get better Aemond the Fierce!’. His mother came as well but flapped between concern and scolding for his ‘recklessness’. She was the only one who seemed genuinely concerned for him, though her concern was not needed. Aemond did not wish to feel more like an invalid than he already did. “What is it?”

“It is time to change the bandage on her leg.” To keep it straight. To keep him bound, he thought with a spat, although Aemond arched a brow at the comment.

“Where is the maester?” His wife was many things, but she was no practitioner of medicine nor magic.

She sighed. “Did you really expect them to come back willingly after last time?” Aemond pursed his lips.

Under the best of circumstances, Aemond was aware that he was not the most agreeable person in the realm. Could anyone really blame him? His existence had taught him over & over that it was better to lash out and cut first, lest you be the one who is sliced. Metaphorically, of course. He wasn’t a mad man like some of his ancestors. And attached to this bed the only weapon at his disposal was his words. He had cursed, jeered, and ranted, honestly uncharacteristic of himself, at the maester who had attended to his leg the day before and had the nerve to tell him his progress was splendid. If it was so splendid then why was he still in this bed? If he was such a great man of knowledge and skill, why hadn’t he healed him yet?! He should go back to whatever dung heap he crawled out of and beg alms for to the gods for wasting a fine Citadel education on an incompetent!!

The prince said a few more unkind things before he forbade any of them from touching him again. He did not think they would take him seriously.

“So, they sent you to do the work of a common barrio healer since they do not wish to do their jobs?”

“I think it was more that they thought you wouldn’t scratch at me. More fool they then, hn?”

Aemond sunk further into his pillows, sulking. He doesn’t mean to scratch at her. He doesn’t mean to scratch at any of them, honestly. He just wanted to get out of his bed and go on with his life. To have the world move on around him, to grow weak and irrelevant in this bed, was the real punishment. “I’m sorry.” He apologized. “…thank you…for helping me…”

“You’re welcome Aemond.”

How quick she was to accept his apology. How quick she was to help him, already coming to his side despite his scratching, when he needed her. No wonder he was always alone….

The prince did what he could for her as he raised his leg from the pillow propping it up and held it there while she unwrapped the old dressing. “Are you sure you know what you are doing?” It was not meant as a slight. Just a genuine curiosity on if she knew the proper way to wrap his injury.

His wife just chuckled. “Yes, Aemond. Despite not wanting to come in here on their own, the maesters did instruct me on how to do it properly.” Cowards, he thought. “There! All done.”

Aemond looked at his leg with his good eye and tried to flex at his foot. His nostrils flared at the persistent pain, but it was wrapped correctly. He was impressed. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I want you healed as soon as possible as well.” Her hand reached for his on the bed and clasped it. “In fact…I was told of another treatment….one that might help with the…circulation in your leg.”

“Oh?” Aemond was curious about that. Trapped in this bed, his legs were not getting the work out that they normally would. Training aside, the walk around the castle was enough exercise for most lords. He hadn’t been able to go more than a few steps for days. His legs teetered between weightlessness and the sharp pricks of falling asleep all the time. “Will it improve my condition?”

“It….could…” She seemed unconvinced. Avoiding, even. But perhaps that was because the last person who made remarks about the improvement of his condition was threatened to be fed to Vhagar. “Will you let me try it?”

What was there to lose, he thought, and Aemond nodded before he helped her take off his lower bed linens so both his legs were bare. A small vial appeared out from her pocket, and she poured some of its contents onto her hands before rubbing them together and placing them on his leg. “Just…try to relax for me.”

A hefty ask, but he does try. All he could do recently was ‘try to relax’. ‘Rest, my prince’, ‘you need time to heal’. It was all he had heard for the past days, to the point that any word close to ‘relax’ had almost the opposite effect on him. But for her, he does try. For her it worked a little. His shoulders finally untensing. Looking at her in the candlelight. Soft feelings swelling at the touch of her soft hands. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” He answered, almost without thinking. It did feel good. He didn’t realize how stiff his leg was until this moment.

Aemond let out a deep exhale. Not really a sigh, just the release of all the air in his lungs and tension built in his body. His eye closed as he laid back and let his wife work. They aren’t strong, but persistent. He continued to enjoy until he felt her hands shift up higher. Up his calf where his injury was to above his knee. “What are you doing?”

“What??” Her shocked face was particularly adorable in the soft light. Wide, wild eyes. Body frozen save for a soft tremble in her shoulders. “I..I’m rubbing your leg. I told you.”

“My injury is not there though.” He told her logically. Gaze still fixed on her for any kind of reveal.

“I…I know…” Her hands shift to seem to want to move away from him, but she willed them to stay still. “I just thought…maybe there was some other tension I could help you with….”

It was Aemond’s turn to be shocked, but he doesn’t show it on his face like she does. His wife was a lady. A demure, kind, noble one at that. Though she wasn’t nearly as boring & cow eyed as the other noble ladies on offer to him at the time of his betrothal, or so Aemond assumed as he didn’t pay much attention to any of them, boldness like this was not heard of in their marriage. She never denied him. Seemed fond of when they were together; or at least made all the right noises like she did. But it was always he who initiated such acts in their bedroom. To see her offer, and on offer, as he finally took in her appearance and the thin robe she had come to him in, Aemond would not deny that it was quite arousing.

Without another word, Aemond parted his legs further to give her room. If this was her intention, he would not deny her. There was a flush on her cheeks that bleed down her neck towards the V of her robe when he did this. Her resolve seeming to waiver, and disappointment started to drip into his chest at the prospect he may have ruined this too with his terrible attitude, but she continued.

The prince sighed. Gladdened to feel her hands on him again and closed his eye with a newfound desire for his treatment, now that he knew what was going on. “Higher.”

“Here?”

Her coquettish tone was a tonic to his ears. She was enjoying this. She was enjoying touching him and playing with him. His cock jumped as it filled fuller. More aroused by the fact that his wife truly did want him than her hands close, but not close enough, to his member. “Higher.”

“Here?”

Aemond opened his eye and genuinely growled at his wife. Though this game was amusing, enticing, it had been days since he’d found release. Being stuck in this bed did not really spur a person on towards desire. And though she laid with him at night like a good wife she had been spared from her ‘wifely duties’ for some time as Aemond was either still in too much pain from his leg, or unable to move it to perform the act, or in too bad of a mood to make the effort. Having her close. Feeling her touch. It was like the flood gates opened on a dam he had long since locked up and threw away the key on. “Please….”

His kind, noble, demure wife took pity on him, and also took his cock in her hand. Aemond’s head tilted back as he moaned. Her soft hands stroking his member from under his night shirt slowly, deliberately. She had touched him before, so she knew how he liked it, but honestly she could have touched him anyway she liked. Like a clumsy novice that first night they were together, and he still would have melted in her hands.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” Again, without thought. But headier this time. More needy. He opened his eye to look upon his wife and found her staring at him. Those bright eyes darkened with desire. He’d never seen it before; mostly because when they were together her face was either buried in his chest, or shoulder, or in the pillows. Aemond bit his bottom lip hard. Trying not to cum at just the sight of her.

“It’s ok.” She told him in a whisper. Like it was a secret between the two of them. “You can let go husband. Will you let go for me?”

It was the softest command that Aemond had ever heard, and yet it forced him to obey more than any other. His back pressed further back into the pillows as his head tilted back again. His cock spasming in her hand as his seed leapt out from the tip. Covering her hand and perhaps getting some on her pretty robe by her knee. He would have to get her another one.

He opened his eye again after coming down from his high. Just in time to see her lick his seed off the palm of her hand. “What are you doing?”

“Well, the royal seed is sacred, is it not?” Her grin was soft, but mischievous. “We should not waste it.”

Aemond’s hand darted out to grab hold of her arm and drag her down to him in a deep, needy kiss. Apparently the flood gates he thought were released earlier were in truth just a leak in the levees. This was when the dam broke now. The need he had for her burning so hot that he could almost taste blood at the back of his tongue, his blood was boiling so hot.

He tried to spread his legs wider to make more room for his wife, but when he moved, he was reminded (painfully) of his injury. “Damnit!” The prince hissed against his wife’s lips. The throbbing in his leg almost in tandem with his cock.

“Sssh…it’s ok Aemond.” He wanted to bite at her soft words.

It was not ok! None of this was ok! He was injured, in pain, stuck in this bed, and now he couldn’t even fuck his wife! He felt useless. He felt angry. He felt humiliated not being able to do things as a man should, and he just wanted to get back to normal!

Before he could tell her any of this, however, his wife pulled back and removed her robe from her body. Mesmerizing in the fire light. No Valyrian alabaster, but still just as dazzling to Aemond. Shift discarded, his wife raised her hips and inched closer to hover them over his own. “The maester said not to move unless absolutely necessarily.” He wanted to argue that laying with his wife was absolutely necessarily, particularly in this moment, but all his words left him on a moan as she lowered herself onto him. “So you just stay there. L-Let me take care of you.” The little stammer in her voice as she started rolling her hips almost sent Aemond into a frenzy, but he endured.

He genuinely couldn’t move with her on top of him like this and his position on the bed. Though why would be want to? For the first time since his accident, Aemond was actually ecstatic to be stuck here in this bed. His wife lovingly impaling herself on his member. Riding him with skill just short of a dragon rider. If he had the wits still about him, he would have chuckled at his own joke. ‘Dragon rider’. As it was though he was stupid with lust. Dumb, witless, helpless at her mercy as she took from him everything and gave him back so much. He still had brains at least to return the favor.

His wife cried out when he reached up to cup her breast. The weight of them in his hands something he missed. Aemond does not get a lot of time to enjoy them, however, as his wife suddenly fell forward. Covering his body with her own. Hips still moving but at a much snappier pace with the depleted gap between them. He didn’t care though. His hands just repositioned themselves on her other mounds at her backside and pressed her to move faster.

“A-Aemond!” Her cries were his music. The tempo in which he set a new rhythm.

The wet sound of their sexes kissing along with their actual kissing fill the room, until it all stopped in one bright, shining moment of his wife shaking on top of him while her fists tried to fight his pillows and he spilled inside her this time.

He wished he could hold her like this for longer. Her weight a comfort, like a blanket, in his arms. But she rolled over onto his non-injured side to lay beside him. It was good enough. “Do you feel better now?”

Aemond looked down at her, having to turn his head completely as to not just look at her with the sapphire in his eye, realizing at last what this was about. Her idea of a good will effort. To lift his spirits and relieve his tension. Maybe keep him from trying to execute more of the maesters in the castle. “Yes. I’m feeling better.”

She smiled, then placed a soft kiss on his shoulder. “Good.”

The fingers from the hand around her own shoulders played with her hair as he stared at the ceiling. “Was this all just for me though?”

His wife looked at him with a perplexed look, but then realized what he was asking and blushed. She was smart enough to figure it out. “Not…all of it. I did want you to be in better spirits but…I have missed you.”

The corner of Aemond’s lips ticked up. Pleased, and pleased with himself. He did not think his sexual prowess was worth much compared to his prowess with a sword or strategy. But to hear that his wife wanted him, truly wanted him, was all the praise he would ever need. “So, you came up with this idea to satisfy both of us, ābrazyrys.”

“It wasn’t….all my idea…” Aemond arched a brow at his wife’s words. Curious now where she had got the idea from, as it had clearly come from somewhere. “Aegon commented on your bad mood and how someone should ‘cheer you up’. He gave me the idea, but the rest of it was all my doing.”

Aemond wasn’t sure which comment he was more shocked about. The fact that his brother knew how he was faring in his recovery, or the fact that he made lewd comments to his wife. He was battering between feelings of an odd sense of touched and white hot furry, but he decided to just let it go for now and enjoy his wife. “Well, thank you, regardless. In future I will try not to scratch at you while I am still confined to this bed. Lest you ask.”

She giggled when he kissed the top of her forehead. “And the maesters?”

“They are on their own.” Idiots. “I make no promises on their safety, but I will…endeavor to be of better character in the future.” At least not threaten to feed them to Vhagar. That seemed a reasonable adjustment.

[rodolfoparras]

Four in the morning ( when you creep back into bed )

Pairing: Wolverine x Top Male Reader

Cw: 18+, fingering, anal sex, sub!wolverine, dom!male reader, fwb,

Thinking about Wolverine who’s always so impatient to wind down after a long day, calls you over to his place with someone else’s blood and guts still caked onto him.

He hasn’t even finished up the call when he’s stripping the clothes off of him, before pushing strong thighs up to his chest, spit slicked fingers working on loosening the tight ring of muscles, all while counting down how long it takes for you to get there, silently wondering if he should have someone else finish up the job instead.

By the time you arrive, he’s already driving three fingers up inside his tight wet hole, the muscles in his wrist flexing with how hard he’s going, angry red cock uselessly slapping against his stomach as he fucks himself down onto his fingers , all while frustrated noises roll off of his tongue because of course this isn’t enough to make him finish

The frustration only grows when he sees you standing motionless at the door, and he’s quick to tell you to hurry over and fuck him already, even huffing and puffing as he proceeds to turn over and present his ass for you because fuck does he have to do everything around here?

“come on come on come on” he rushes out, hand parting his cheeks to show you his hungry cunt, momentarily wondering if he should just tie you up and use you however he wants.

But just as the thought strikes his head he feels your cock brushing up against the furls of muscles, and a sigh of relief escaping his lips as you finally slide inside him.

Despite the amount of prep there’s a slight burn that comes with the stretch, muscles reflexively resistant as you sink further into him, but he happily welcomes it; toes curling, clawed nails threatening to poke hole in the sheets, as the pleasurable flames slowly but surely engulf him “mfp - ah fuck that’s it yes yes yes, took you ah took you long enough,”

He steadily takes you inch by inch till you’re buried to the hilt; ass flushed with your hips, pressed so close he can practically feel your heartbeat against his skin, even feels himself going lax in as if you’ve finally quenched the fire that’s burning inside of him.

“Couldn’t exactly teleport here now could I?”

Just as he’s about to retort with something sarcastic, you give an experimental roll of your hips cock head brushing up against the wall of nerves that knocks the wind out of him , desperately gasping for air when he demands “Fuck!, oh -oh need more come on, please!!”

“Easy there , going ah- to hurt yourself,” you splurt out , fingers digging into his hips as if to prevent yourself from ramming into the man.

Logan however couldn’t care less, uses his hips to push himself back down onto your length, body shuddering and groans escaping his lips as he starts fucking himself on your dick. “I’ll - ah - I’ll heal,”

That’s when he feels your fingers yank at his hair, pulling him back til his head is resting on your shoulder before driving up into him at a relentless pace, all while keeping a sturdy hand on his hip, turning and twisting his body as you please- as if he weighed nothing .

“This what you wanted huh?” You breathe into his ear while continuously slamming into his hungry cunt.

For a moment he’s unable to muster up a response, lost in the way you’re slamming your hips into him so hard it almost hurts, stretching his body in ways that makes him feel like he’s being split in half on your cock.

But the constant jabs to his prostate eventually coaxes the words right out of him “Yes! Yes! Yes! don’t stop fuck!” He gasps out feels himself already inching closer to his orgasm, and maybe he’d be embarrassed about it if he hadn’t been worked up for such a long time. All he can do now is keep a vice like grip on your cock fearing you’d be cruel enough to pull out when he’s so close to cumming

Fortunately for him you don’t do any of that, instead you continue ramming straight into him til the tension in his balls grow unbearable tight and he’s withering in your arms.

“Cum-cumming-“ is all he manages to blurt out, body tensing for a moment before spurting ropes of cum all over the mattress. “Mph fuck!” He cries out, , world blurring, ears ringing as he continues rides out his high in your arms.

Eventually he stops shaking in your embrace and upon catching his breath he’s hit with the smell of a coppery scent, one heavy eyelid prying open just to be met with the sight of his claws digging into your now bloody hands. A wave of panic rushes through him, and he’s quick to retract his claws before he goes to say something. But just as he’s about to speak you interrupt him “it’s okay”

He doesn’t say a word as he brings your hands to his lips, tongue slipping out and lapping up the bloody mess on your skin.

“Jesus Christ Logan,” you wince out, head dropping into the nook of his neck as he cleans you up, swears he can feel your cock twitching inside as he continues on with his task , his lips all bloody and smiling ear to ear when he says the words “Another round?”

[nianeyemystic]

Sextrology Observation 💦🤤😈

Where Saturn is placed in your chart, can show you what prevents you from being able to cum

- please keep in mind these are my OWN interpretations. they may or may not resonate with you, and that’s okay. I’m open to opinions & conversations however let’s keep it cute (rudeness is not acceptable in this safe space ) & learn from one another. Please do not copy of plagiarize , any reblogs & shares are greatly appreciated. This information may help somebody 🥰

Saturn in 1H:

You can be in your head alot during sex, you have to learn to let go so your body can feel & relax. it’s sometimes hard for you to experience emoting freely in front of others. Also how you feel about yourself & the person

Saturn in 2H:

Your self esteem. Your confidence an what you value can be a huge factor here. You should do affirmations, listen to sensual music before or even have your partner engage in praise kinks & compliment you during.

Saturn in 3H

Inability to communicate what you need & desire during sex. Communication is key here for you, you can limit yourself to cumming just based on lack thereof. Your partner may not know how to please you unless you say it.

Saturn in 4H:

Your emotional needs, home life & even sense of security with your partner. A lack of stimulation surrounding the home environment you’re in during. Maybe try changing up the atmosphere.

Saturn in 5H:

You place a lot of pressure on yourself during, there needs to be a balance of this is a devoted action & something fun & creative. Try new positions, have exploration in the bedroom & music / good vibes are needed.

Saturn in 6H:

You’re too focused on work maybe. Or your career is heavily on your mind during sex. Also if you’re not in good health mentally or physically this can hinder you as well in the bedroom. Try to meditate, do breathing exercises & completely change out of “work mode” before engaging

Saturn in 7H:

The need to feel secure in your relationship. Their needs to be reciprocal loyalty & commitment before you can release. Your relationships can deeply effect your sensuality so be careful who you’re getting into bed with

Saturn in 8H:

Your sexuality may have been something you’re ashamed of before. Maybe you’ve held onto view around sex as taboo, or have not gotten fully comfortable with exploring your sexuality. The right healing work & sexual expression will help you get there. Sacral chakra & Root Chakra yoga could help here

Saturn in 9H:

You may be too intense or focused on your intellectual pursuits. Sex has be to stimulating for your mind as well. So maybe conversations that lead to sec should involve topics like expansion, travel & self discovery. Or you could need to engage in more of those to feel sexually aroused

Saturn in 10H:

Reputation of the person your having sex with & maybe even their social status could effect you here. Maybe try finding partners who fit the ideal you’re attracted to in social world or simply forget about that & let go.

Saturn in 11H

The money & income of either yourself or your partner could effect your sexual stimulation. Even the social circles you hang in. If you’re attracted to a person but his/her friend group doesn’t align you maybe turned off. Also patience, you might be rushing the act to get there. Take your time

Saturn in 12H:

Your intuition will tell you everything. So if you’re not aligned spiritually, or have some sort of connection with a partner you could hav trouble cumming. Sex should be a sacred & devoted practice. Also your needs for solitude might be a huge indicator of not being able to cum

@nianeyemystic

[prettyboykatsuki]

give it to me like you need it, baby | zayne (lnds)

❅ tags ; afab + fem!reader (referred to with she/her several times), established relationship, vague depiction of medical injury, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, fingering, unprotected sex, reader is very spoiled skjdds, 18+

❅ wc ; 5.7k (???????????)

❅ a/n ; i started playing this game 48 hours ago. i am out of my mind. sorry. please no spoilers for now JKSDJD. also shoutout to @acerathia who imbued me with even more zayne brainworms that resulted in this KJDSKJ

this is just porn. no plot like fr at all!! dont think too hard about anything!!!! also sorry if the characterization is inconsistent </3

❅ synopsis ; refusing to take your prescribed pain meds, you suggest a different type of pain relief from zayne to heal your injuries.

“You should be more careful,” 

Zayne’s voice is even. It’s the first thing to greet you when you wake up from your most recent round of medication.  There’s a pleasant clarity that comes with every tone and intonation, that somehow manages to  trample the thick fog in your brain after waking up from your last round of narcotics. 

The pain has settled, from a sharp throb to a dull ache but it’s there. You glance around the room for some way to tell the time. There’s still light out but your limbs feel heavy, so you must’ve been asleep for a while. 

“It’s almost evening,” Zayne says, like he’s reading your mind. He sits at the stool at your side with an expression, eyes softened with worry. “An hour or so till sunset.” 

“Right,” You reply. You wince as you sit up, bruised sides still tender and head heavy. You rub your eyelids, a deep pressure in your skull—just behind them, as you readjust to the remnants of light in the room. “Shit, it hurts.” 

“It’s been enough time between doses, so you’ll need to take them again soon for the pain.” Zayne says. 

Your lips curl instantly, shaking your head. “No way. I don’t want to take them again.” 

Zayne stares at you for a while. “You wouldn’t have to take them at all  had you taken the necessary precautions in the first place so I fear there’s little choice in the matter. The pain will be hard to manage without the medications,” 

“Are you nagging me, Doctor?” 

He shakes his head. “I’m treating you. Your injury is substantial and I don’t want you to do anything to aggravate it. Nor do I want you to suffer needlessly” And then, a little softer. “I don’t like prescribing such a strong dosage either.”

“But you did.” 

“Because my patient is severely injury and I’m worried for her quality of life,” Zayne says, firm but not unkind. “Perhaps if said patient took more care to preserve themselves, I could prescribe something lighter.” 

“Are you holding a grudge against me?” 

“Against your recklessness, yes.” 

You pout unthinkingly. “I’m sorry. Don’t be angry.” 

Zayne reaches his hand towards the corner of your mouth, pressing his thumb into the line of your frown. “I never said I was angry. Just worried. Don’t trouble yourself.” 

“Then who should I trouble?”

Zayne doesn’t reply to you, though he does smile light enough for you to catch sight of it in the dim lights. He goes back into physician mode before you get a chance to say more, and you’re too tired to give him your usual banter.

There’s a beat of silence between you where Zayne is writing something down on pen and paper while you daydream aimlessly. He’s probably documenting your injuries for record keeping in the system. Encountering an anomaly in your line of work is deceptively common but there hadnt been any exact records on anything like your specific incident. Bits and pieces of stray information but that’s all. Nothing cohesive. While it appears to be normal albeit impressive bruising and broken bones, the unit still thought it best to be monitored. 

(That, along with Zaynes general tendency to fuss over your state, mean you’ve been in this position for a few weeks now. Zayne has taken one of his usual work days off just to tend to you.)

Despite the effort you've put into recovering, sustaining a massive injury has made you feel stir crazy and has not gotten rid of the pain entirely - causing you to wince when you move in the wrong way way.  Noticing the way you deflate, Zayne looks up from his papers. He pauses, studying you and the large bruise up your side. 

“Take your medicine”

“Don’t wanna,” You say petulantly, eyes closed. 

Zayne pauses then sighs as you stubbornly turn him away. He weighs his options before  moving on to focus on your injury. You’re conscious of the hand he has underneath your shirt. How delicately he moves, scarred digits touching like you’re porcelain. You don’t think he does it on purpose, or because he underestimates you. Rather, treating you preciously is the easiest manner of being for him. Still, it does make you pout.

“That’s a nasty bruise even for your line of work. Don't be stubborn.” 

You shake your head. 

 “I’m tough. I can take some pain. It’s better than being groggy at least. Feels like my heads been full of cotton for weeks.” 

“You say that because the medication is working. It’s dulling the pain enough for it to be tolerable even though it can feel unpleasant at times. It’s going to worsen again, gradually, if you don’t keep on the dosage schedule.” 

You open your eyes again to look at him. It’s hard to refute his points, even more so when he makes it so obvious his concerns lie solely in your well-being. But you really, really hate the way it’s making you feel. You feel like you’ve been hit by a crr in general but the added sluggishness from narcotics is too much. Enough to be stubborn and childish about even the most sound advice. You shake your head again, trying to think of a solution to appease you both. 

It doesn’t last long since you quickly get lost in another train of thought as a result of your brain fog. 

When your mind catches up with reality,  your eyes flutter open to a worried looking Zayne. Half-conscious, you feel keenly aware of his presence. Of his hands resting on your sides and the heat that lingers when he moves them. His hands are covered in tens of small scars, fingers thick and long while managing to be elegant. A precision to him. To his features, to his movements, to his actions. 

“Something on your mind?” 

“Hm…?” 

His lips quirk. “You’ve got a look about you,” 

“I was just thinking of alternatives on how to manage pain.” 

“Another medication you mean?” 

You shake your head, smiling crookedly. 

“There are different kinds of pain relief, right? Something more… holistic.” 

“Holisitic?” 

Opting to answer his question another way, you let out an exaggerated noise of relief. “Your hand feels nice doc,” 

Zayne, quick on the uptake, hums to himself not showing any reaction.

“Does holistic feel like the appropriate vocabulary for what you’re implying?” 

“Maybe… something more physical.” 

“I see.” He hums. “And how would something that puts strain on your body improve your injury?” 

“Improving my mood is also an important part of recovery.” 

Zayne sighs. “Please be more mindful about my position as your doctor.” 

“You sound like you’re considering it when you don’t reject me outright.”

“Tsk.”  

He sits up from the stool he’d been sat on while tending to you, instead choosing to sit beside you in bed. You’re propped up in a mess of pillows and blankets, pressed close to the wall. There’s more than enough room for Zayne. The bed creaks under his weight as he stretches his legs, back against the headboard. You turn your head to look at him. 

A long silence falls between you, not uncomfortable. Heavy rather, with tension. Zayne, quick to indulge you, brings a hand up to cradle your face. His hand is cool against your hot skin, big palms cupping your cheek. He hums under his breath, hazel-green eyes tracing the outlines of your features. You keen into his palms and he laughs again, deeper. Richer. 

“I’m not against the suggested methods perse,” Zayne says slowly, holding your gaze while his thumb traces your lip. “Only that it may encourage your recklessness, should I give it to you. You’ve been cooped up in here for so long, I suppose needed some more stimulus isn’t far fetched.” 

“I’ll be more mindful.”  You promise, giving him the wettest puppy eyes you can while you nod enthusiastically. 

“I won’t forgive you otherwise.” 

He leans in. Just enough to tease. You frown. 

“Zayne,” 

His eyes meet your again, heating shooting through your spine. 

“Impatient, foolish, reckless. What should I do with a patient like you?” 

“Spoil me.” You reply shamelessly. His lips quirk up. “I take well to bribery.” 

“Is that really the most effective method?” Zayne pretends to ponder.

You nod. “Promise I’ll be on my best behavior, Doctor.” 

“I’ll hold you to it.” Zayne says, tone soft with affection. He holds a hand out for you. “ Come.”

Zayne tells you to move, but bears no intention of making you do so on your own. He wraps an arm around your back carefully - mindful of the tenderness in your ribs and side. He draws you into his lap with ease, your head tucked against his chest with his chin resting atop of your head. Your legs are drawn across his lap lazily, voice reverberating through your tired limbs as he speaks. 

“Comfortable? No pain?” 

You make an affirmative noise to him, cozying up in the way least straining to your body. 

He’s patient as he undresses you from the waist down - and you allow him, basking in the silent attention. In tattered sleepwear and half-sick, you barely move as the fabric rolls and peels all the to your knees - lazily lifting your legs to take them off along with your underwear in one swift go. A wave of embarrassment tugs at you, self-conscious as you nuzzle further into Zayne’s arms. Paradoxically finding comfort in the same person whose making your feverishness burn brighter, you let your hand clench weekly in his shirt. 

Naked, Zayne brings the hand not supporting your back up to your face. He holds your chin between thumb and forefinger and tilts your head towards him - a chaste kiss promising more. Your eyes lock for a heartbeat until you look away, shy. He lets you lean back further, lazier - until he’s at the right angle to hover over you to kiss you all the better. 

Contrary to the other ways he touches you, most times Zayne kisses you is fierce. Once, twice - to ease you into the pace of his mouth before you find your lips pulled open. It’s the only thing that he does this way, needy from the start. Your lips press to his sweetly, a noise of surprise slipping  that Zayne swallows in the next go. His lips are soft and pleasantly cool to the touch. 

Your hands grip tighter trying to find purchase in the overwhelming want of it. Slow and sticky kisses that make the back of your feel fuzzy, the kind that lingers in the minutes you’re parted. His breath is warm, faint with the smell of mint. 

The coy, cool demeanor you took suggesting this, fades—melts every inch of you. Your body goes slack with arousal underneath the assault, his tongue slipping against yours deeper and deeper. He gets breathy when he kisses, a longing sigh as you keen up into his mouth or suck his tongue - your body eager to be as wrapped up in the attention as you can. 

There’s something about this in particular that makes you feel pampered. Tucked away, safely. Zayne is familiar with the act of bending to your whims and your affirmed relationship has only made him more easily compelled. 

His free hand rests just above where your body longs to be touched. Deliberately above the navel, he slides over the softness of your belly. Traveling up slowly, his hand squeezes both sides of your chest. You can’t get enough air to say anything about how good it feels, so you whine instead - canting your hips to air for friction. Zayne laughs softly against your mouth. 

Less turned on, you think you would bicker with him about it. Turn your nose up at him for being so rude. Melted in his arms like lust liquified, you don’t know if you gave it in you. 

Deft fingers tweak your nipples underneath the thin fabric of your shirt. Zayne notices it for the first time touching you. He makes a face, faux disapproval causing his lip to curl.

“Wearing clothes like this with everything so visible. On top of your injury, you’ll get sick.” 

The words carry no weight or bite, playful at best. As if to prove a point, Zayne goes back over your clothes to touch them again. His thumb rubs across your hard nipples, your body shuddering from the rough texture at the fabric alongside Zayne’s fingers. He rubs them carefully, slowly. Pays attention to each one before settling on teasing the side more sensitive to the other. He knows the way to touch you, please  you down to the minutia. It makes you so wet you can hardly stand it. You squeeze your legs together with a frown. 

“I said spoil me. This is torture.” 

Your words are petulant even to your own ears. Zayne barely bites back a smile. 

“I wonder if your words about torture will hold up against your body if I touch you,” He kisses your temple to placate you, a hand at your waist to prove his point. “Patience,” 

“I can’t be patient,” You say, frowning. Zayne gives you an imperceptible look before leaning down, his voice close to your ear. 

“Should I help you then? Tell you how good it’ll feel if you sit through it obediently and allow me to have my way with you, hm? You like the sound of my voice right,” 

You let out a mewl. Zayne laughs. 

“Sit then, and wait for me to take care of you.” Zayne says gently. He kisses the corner of your mouth, trailing his kisses down to your jaw and neck. Bites so softly at the junction of your neck and shoulders, his voice a salve to your pent up lust. “Let me soothe the pain with pleasure.” 

You can’t be sure if it’s mercy or not, that your demands make Zayne more relentless in his fondling of your body. His hand doesn’t go further than your waistband. But they squeeze and grope all where he can reach. Cycling through hot, deep kisses that leave you breathless - toes curling up in fluffy socks unconsciously aching for more—and sweet, loving pecks to encourage you to put up with it a little longer. 

What keeps you tethered is the promise of pleasure, the assurance that Zayne always gives you what you ask for no matter how long or how much he may tease you until he does. It’ll be yours since you wanted it. 

You’ll manage to cum when he feels like it’s right. So you play into it. Beg sweetly in between sighs to touch you. Need you, need your hands, wanna feel even better. 

You like feeling Zayne get impatient, no matter how gradual or how slow. It never loses the thrill. The subtle gestures that his control is slipping away for you so slowly. Always worth the full brunt of your effort when you see his resolve slowly unravel - becoming sloppier in short doses. Sometimes, you get lucky enough to push him far enough and let go completely. 

“Spread your legs,” Zayne pants, desperate to get his hands on you. You do instinctually, gasping as soon as your swollen, throbbing clit brushes so lightly against his middle finger. His fingers are longer than yours - bigger and thicker. He rubs against your slit gently, feeling for how wet you are. It makes a noise as he slides through your folds, fingertip resting at your clit as he gives it a soft stroke. 

“Zayne,” You gasp his name. “Please,” 

No words follow your demand, but Zayne always makes good on his promises. Before you can think to whine again, he finds the spot that brings you pleasure the quickest and rubs soft circles into it. Steady pace paired with a complete understanding of the ins and outs of your body. Your pussy flutters in reply, whole body jolting from the contact. Pleasure seeps into you like the running flow of water, subtle but steady - the heat of your body melting the preciseness of Zayne’s ice. You feel a brief pain in your ribs, but its overwhelmed by the pleasure fizzling through you as Zayne rubs your clit in circular strokes. 

You rut against his hand, aching for more but Zayne keeps pace. 

You wonder how something can feel so different at the hands of someone else. How something you usually do alone and feel alright pleasure from can make you feel like this - like you’re burning from the inside when all he’s using is his hands. 

Zayne, sensing the buildup before you do, presses your mouths together again. He’s gentle this time but you’re desperate, a hand holding onto his face while you get nearer and nearer to cumming.

You know you’re on the edge when your muscles begin to tighten, mind rousing to the rush of dopamine and oxytocin. You pant his name sloppy as your mouth tests the syllables. Over and over and over as Zayne brings you to the peak. He’s quiet, laser focused on where his finger play with your needy pussy. Everything inside of you goes taut before you begin to unravel. Deep waves of rapture wash over you, from head to toe. Your cum spills, flows in thick sticky strands until you’re so wet you can feel it between your thighs and ass.

You take a shuddering breath upon your first release, trying to settle your mind through the aftershocks of powerful orgasm

You barely get a chance to breathe before you feel Zayne’s hand on your waist again. 

“You’ve a few more for me, right?” Zayne says, voice latent with unprecedented lust. You feel something hard pressing against your thighs, making you squirm. “Only once won’t be an effective treatment for a patient in so much pain.” 

You don’t get a chance to recover  your strength before you feel Zayne’s hands come down between your legs. Despite your efforts to run from it, Zayne holds you firm with his arm. Holds you in a way that won’t let you escape from it no matter how much you may try. B

efore you can finish riding your first high - the pads of his fingers find your clit once more. He goes to touch you indirectly, aware of your sensitivity and only heeding so much caution

The lack of direct friction is frustrating. Like he’s deliberately avoiding touching you where exactly you need while still making you feel good, a forceful staccato to an orgasm rather than a direct line to one. It feels good, it does— but it’s not enough. 

It makes you want more. With Zayne, you can’t be sure if its intentional or not. 

Your mind is too cloudy to speak to him, so you whine instead. Zayne has a talent for making you like that. Touching you in a way that renders your speech useless, forces you to lean on what you know. Leaves you nothing to ask him with except your body, your carnality, to get what you want. Everything you could possibly desire is yours if you shed your pride and ask. If you can’t ask, all you need to do is what you’re doing now—spread your legs and let him see just how much of a mess he makes you.  Zayne makes it easy for you. Fucks you in vulnerable, precise measures. He moves with the confidence necessary to wield a scalpel, uses it to take you apart perfectly before mending you to put together. 

No one knows how to build you up again how Zayne does. Who else is paying such close attention?

Your voice comes out shaking when you come around your second consecutive orgasm. The previous grogginess has been completely washed away, taken over by a stronger feeling of euphoria. Cumming again in such rapid succession blindsides you. Your mouth is fallen open. Silent, broken moans sound as the sensations starts to stir again in your core. Your belly is honeyed with lust - the muscles in your calves tensing hard as you thrash your legs around aiming not to lose your mind to the pleasure. Zayne is the only force keeping you upright in his arms and on his lap.

He tsks, half between sympathetic and teasing as you squeeze you thighs around his hand. “Stop squirming. You’ll hurt yourself. If your treatment proves to worsen your injuries and then we’ll have to stop—effective immediately.” 

Your voice comes out so unfamiliar and desperate, you barely know it as yours. “No, no, no don’t stop please, Zayne—”

“Then,” His voice is raspy against your ear, deeperer. Stained with lust. “Hold still and cum.” 

You force your body as still as possible at Zayne’s word. Your hands grip tight onto his shirt, stretching the material out with how hard you grip. You cry out as the knot inside of you untangles and frays.

 Zayne kisses you right as you get to the edge, forcing his tongue deep in your mouth to keep you from biting through your lip. You cum as soon as you feel your tongues touch, kissing deeply. 

You curl up this time in reaction to the gratification, your whole body folding in on itself. You can feel your pussy clench around nothing as you do, aching for something more. Like electricity sparking through the water, your pleasure is constant yet splintering. 

Pin-point accuracy leaves your mind completely muddled in the aftermath. When you manage to look up at Zayne, desire mixed with longing and affection puff up in your chest. It’s the way he looks down at you in the afterglow. Such sharp, intense eyes and strong features. Almost shattered, ruined with a restrained lust. Despite himself, despite being at his mercy, despite being weakened from healing wounds - Zayne holds you gentle. Puts you first even at odds with himself. 

You crane your neck up half tired to kiss him first. It’s nauseatingly gentle but doesn’t do enough to express your feelings. A mix of gratitude and compliance founded in mutual trust. You want to give yourself to him over and over and over - enough to wash away his worries. At the same time, you want him to want you so madly he abandons his usual restraint. 

Ultimately, your mind settles on the desire to make him feel good in whatever way you possibly can. You rub deliberately against the hard-on pressed against your thigh. Mellowed from cumming twice, you speak your thoughts frankly. 

“Fuck me.” 

He shakes his head. “You’ll really aggravate your injuries that way. I’d …. like too but I—” 

“Zayne,” You repeat, serious. “Fuck me, please.” 

He’s silent for a moment, eyes closed. 

“Want you to make me cum again,” You say, then add. “Wanna cum while you’re inside of me.” 

“You—” He takes in a sharp breath. “You can really be so—” 

“Zayne,” 

“Don’t call my name like that,” Zayne says on a sigh, rubbing your lower lip. “I’ve already conceded. Quit your pouting.” 

You smile at him, eyes wet with sincere joy. He lets out a strangled groan, followed by a sigh. “Given your injuries, you being on top would be best as to not cause anymore pain to you. Move gently.” 

“Will you help?” 

Zayne nods at you. “You don’t have to ask.” 

As promised, his touch is gentle as he takes you off his lap. His hands and arms give the necessary support to keep from further agitating your wounds- supporting your spine to ease yourself onto his strong lap with. It’s a wide fit to get your thighs over his lap but Zayne takes precaution.

Zayne pushes you to stand on your knees while you straddle him. He makes you lean on one side of him, your torso resting on one of his shoulders while you’re pressed slightly against the headboard. Uncertain of what he’s doing, you yelp in surprise when you feel his hands slide between your legs. One on your hips, securing you - the other one teasing your slit. 

“It’ll hurt if I put it in right away.” He clarifies. 

“I can take it.”

Zayne is quiet at that, choosing to ignore both your whining and the soft sway of your hips in a poor attempt to get him to fuck you quicker. Meticulously, Zayne slips his fingers into his mouth covering them with saliva first, before drawing them through the mess of slick between your thighs. Making his digits as wet as possible, he rubs your pussy until he finds your tight hole. You can feel your cunt pulse at the contact, taking in a soft breath as he eases the first finger inside of you. They’re thick. Thicker than yours by enough that you can feel some resistance as he works just his middle finger into you slowly. Patiently fucking it in and out until he’s all the way down to knuckle. 

When it’s easy to fuck you on one, he adds another - repeating the process until both fingers fit inside of you easily. The stretch leaves your breath hitching, thighs trembling slightly in anticipation. 

“One more should be—” 

“No,” You say immediately. “It’s enough already.” 

“You know very well it’s not.” 

“I can take it,” You coax, sitting back down properly onto Zayne’s lap, half naked. You rub yourself over the strained fabric of his sweats, wetting them with your own arousal. You’re pleased when you notice his own pre-cum staining them too. “Zayne.” 

Rubbing his temple, he holds you by your hips. You wrap your arms haphazardly around his neck as he casts his eyes towards you. Holding his gaze, you frown—face flush and lips pouty. He sighs, a noise of discontent slipping as his hands reach back and squeeze your ass - drawing you even closer to him. He closes his eyes, forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“What good is it taking such good care of your body as your physician when you’re so quick to throw it away in front of me, hm?” Zayne scolds half-heartedtly. You smile at him sheepishly, your eyes meeting. 

 He gives you a look, silent, encouraging you to take what you need first. 

Your hands are shaky as they reach the front of Zayne’s waistband, tugging until they slide down his thighs - along with his boxers in one smooth motion. Your thighs pressed together at the now familiar sight of his cock. Your thighs weaken at the sight of it, impressive length and girth - curved just right and too heavy to stand on its own. You reach out to touch it, a soft stroke to feel how hard it gets. It makes you gasp, feeling how it throbs between your fingers. Zayne suppresses a groan as your palm smooths over the tip. 

“Have you changed your mind?” 

You shake your head rapidly. Zayne lets out a breathless sigh against your collar bone. 

“Stubborn thing you are.” 

“Zayne,”  You peek at him through your lashes. “Can I?” 

He holds you close to him, careful not to grip you too hard. “Slowly.” 

You nod your head, pulling yourself forward on his lap to line the tip of his cock with your entrance. 

A long, shaky breath leaves your lips as you feel the tip of his cock slip against your folds. Adjusting to be sitting up a little more, you ease yourself down on Zayne’s hard length. You feel your pussy flutter in anticipation of being full. Placing our hands on Zayne’s shoulders, you ever so slowly slide yourself down on his cock. 

You both take a sharp inhale as the head of Zayne’s cock stretches your cunt open wide. Just the head is overwhelming, your thighs trembling as you do your best to take all of him inside of you. Your voice tremble, working yourself down inch by inch - desperately trying to adjust. His cock is big, too big - always more than you remember it being. You feel it up to your throat. 

So focused on taking it, you nearly miss the sounds leaving Zayne’s mouth each time you manage to take a little more of him. His voice is trembling, hot against your skin as he muffles each groan and sigh into your shoulder. His hands are tight with restraint as he holds you, trying his best to hold himself together. 

It takes you a beat or two. Long, restrained moments of silence before your body finally takes it. You moan as you bottom out, cock stretching your needy pussy out completely. You stay like that for even longer, longer than you would normally. 

“Aren’t going to move?” 

You give Zayne a look. “I don’t know if it’s possible.” 

“Spoiled girl.” Zayne tsks. 

Wordlessly, he uses his strength to slide you off of his cock in one go. Whining at the sudden feeling of loss - he fucks you back onto him. Carefully placing his hands on the most unmarred parts of your hips, Zayne fucks you on his cock with the same ease of a toy. 

After a few thrusts, your body adjusts to the feeling. You can feel the specific motion when it goes from a dull ache to a dull feeling of pleasure. Your waist goes completely weak in Zayne’s grasp as he fucks his cock up into you with controlled movements. Undulating just enough to make you gasp. Practiced with the full weight and gravity of his hips - but painstakingly measured so that it doesn’t hurt. It’s not slow, or fast - but a rhythmic inbetween that makes it hard for your mind to keep up.

If there was such a thing as getting fucked perfectly, you think Zayne is fulfilling it by all measures. 

The way he’s fucking the warm, slick heat of your cunt feels good beyond word. It’s relentlessly consistent,  head sliding against your sweet spot with ease. Precision guides his thrusts like it does everything else. Euphoria suffuses through your limbs as you get yourself fucked open on it.

The sound of his echoes in the room as Zayne keeps pace. You’re moaning loud now, shameless as the sensation builds and builds and builds but never quite hits its peak. You feel so full, but you need something else to get yo over the edge. 

“You want to cum like this, didn’t you?” Zayne says, matter-of-fact despite the level of calm in his voice.  His face betrays the composure in his voice. “Touch yourself. Make yourself cum in front of me.” 

Shakily, your hand finds itself between your bodies.You find your swollen clit for the last time and carefully rub between your fingers. It makes you gasp outright, nearly falling forward from the impact. Pleasure no longer plateauing, something bounds again inside of you. 

You can feel it coming this time. On the edge from the minute Zayne started fucking you to now, your body has been winding itself tighter and tighter until a knot formed right in the swell of your belly again. There’s something about this one that feels so much deeper then when you came before, something more overwhelming to it. He fucks you in places you could never reach, makes you cum like that too. 

You throw your head back noisily when you finally match your fingers to Zayne’s throat. 

“Fuck,” You hiss, trying your best not to lose the feeling. “Zayne, g-gonna—” 

Zaynes voice borders on a growl. “Cum for me.” 

One last time, your body finds release as Zayne holds you down on his cock and grinds into your g-spot while you cum again. Your nails dig into Zayne’s shoulders, holding onto him for life as your body wracks with shivers once more. Your last orgasm is the most overwhelming, the aftershocks feel like they last for minutes at a time instead of a seconds. 

Zayne cums quickly after you, panting into your neck like he’d been waiting the entire time for you  to cum first before finishing. You feel content as his seed spills into your pussy for the last time. 

A beat of silence passes between you before you speak again, 

“Thank you for the medicine doc,” You hum. “I feel all better.” 

Zayne simply goes along with you like alwys. “It’s what I’m here for.” 

__

After getting fucked good enough to knock out only a few moments after you came a third time, you aren’t exactly sure where or how you were going to wake up. 

When you do wake up though, your bruised and battered body - while still in dull pain, is being cradled by someone else. You feel clean too. Your clothes are changed and your skin is cool to the touch like someone’s been wiping you down and keeping an eye on you. 

Yawning, you open your eyes to the familiar sight of your partner. Zayne glances down at you without word. You feel his arm around your waist like a secure weight, tucking yourself into him.

Zayne’s first question is predictable. “How are you feeling, love?” 

Your heart flutters clumsily at the overt tenderness. “...Hurts a lot. It’s bearable though.” 

Zayne laughs as he notices your attitude. “What happened the my bold lover from a few hours ago? So bold she invited me to bed without hesitation?” 

Your face feels hot, warmth tingling from your ears down to your neck. “I was doped on a lot of narcotics so somehow… and sex is different from this you know?” 

“This…?” 

“Acting like a proper boyfriend when you’re always so…” You trail off. “Don’t you think that’s unfair?” 

“Are you saying I’m usually an improper boyfriend?” 

“Yes,” You say flatly, though you dont really mean it. Zayne chuckles. “At least you’re less…” 

“Kind? Honest?” 

“Playful,” You reply. Shy, you bury your face in his shirt. “You’re not honest but you’re always kind. You’re in too good of a mood.” 

“Will you be more comfortable if I act as usual?” 

You wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him gently. “This side of you isn’t so bad either.” 

“I’m spoiling my very unruly patient.” He hums. He leans down, a hand cradling the back of your head as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “So listen well to doctors orders and rest a bit longer. We’ll have dinner together in a bit so just rest.” 

As if caught by a spell, the mention of rest against has your eyes feeling heavy. You nod without thinking about it. 

“Hm… ‘kay,” You mumble. “Thank you… for taking care of me….” 

Zayne waits a beat or two before pressing another kiss to your temple, waiting for your breathing to even before he speaks. 

“As if it’s something to thank me for,” 

[anundyingfidelity]

DO YOU HATE ME THAT MUCH? — Billy Butcher

Summary: Butcher gives orders for you to stay back from the fight. You hardly comply and prove differently; he starts thinking in a very improper manner about you.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x female!supe reader.

Word count: 2k.

Warnings: smut!! hate sex, unprotected sex, fingering, enemies to fuck buddies, reader can control blood and explode shit (like Victoria Neuman lol), the usual mentions of violence.

Notes: this is a request made by @thatcharmingmushroom for my 400 followers drabbles celebration. I'm sorry I took soooo damn long on this, but I hope you like it and thank you so much for the idea because I had so much fun with it! I picked the Herogasm episode for this tho hehe

☕ if you like my writing support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

On the hunt for Payback, you made your way to infiltrate Herogasm along with Butcher, Hughie and the new asshole, Soldier Boy, not caring that the British dick ordered you a thousand times to stay back.

For different reasons, you were kind of forced to stay with the team, and while you didn’t really get along with any of them, Butcher was by far the one you hated the most. And, in the end, when Soldier Boy burned the whole place to the ground with a blast and Homelander arrived, you couldn’t stand there doing nothing. While the three men tried to hold down Homelander, you used your blood to create strong whips around his limbs, trying to tie him to the ground as Soldier Boy prepared to blast, yet again.

But just in seconds, Homelander recharged himself and pushed them all aside, cutting your whips, and flashing you quickly with his heat vision before storming out. Your blood blades barely made it to the hole he left in the roof as the supe just disappeared, flying away like a scared bitch.

“Well,” you started after an instant of staying silent. “I guess we fucking failed.”

Butcher shot you a dark glare as he walked straight until he stopped in front of you. “You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered.

You held his eyes as he towered you with his broad figure. He looked even more intimidating now he started playing the supe, injecting himself with Compund V. “I don’t care.”

There was this smug smirk on his face as you talked back. You knew he hated you; you knew you hated him. But as fucking weird your powers were, controling blood and exploding people with their own, Butcher found you interesting and stupidly astonishing. But of course, he wasn’t going to admit it. They were just intrusive thoughts about you and how hot you were, defying his direct orders of strictly not coming to the supe-orgy. Yeah, Homelander was a fucking cunt, and he would take care of Soldier Boy soon too. Right now, he just needed something to take the stress out after another stupid failure. His hand would work later once back at the motel, he decided.

Butcher leaned down, until his lips almost brushed the shell of your ear. “We’ll see about that.”

“Why do I have to keep listening to you?” you asked as Butcher followed back to the motel.

You stopped right out of your door, because of course you weren’t going to share a room with him and the old asshole. Hughie, who went inside their room, was the only decent human being between all of them, but still, you had to take care of yourself from those fuckers. Besides, the British idiot wouldn’t stop the verbal vomiting the whole fucking trip and you were growing sick of it.

“Because, for starters, you’re a fucking newbie here,” Butcher replied, smirking hatefully. “And second, your powers are fucking out of control. You need training and keep your mouth shut.”

You rolled your eyes, showing him your wrists. “I already healed myself from the cuts I made. Perhaps I should use your blood next time?”

“No, there’s no next time for you.”

“You don’t decide that, Butcher,” you crossed your arms over your chest, tired of being treated like a stupid kid. “I’m helping on this, I want him dead. And if any of you idiots don’t kill him, then I will.”

He curved an eyebrow, not showing any signs of being taken aback at your words, but inside, he was just in awe as before. You really hated Homelander as much as he did, however, you didn’t have a fucking plan. You would attack first, ask questions later. In any way, since when could he care about that? He had no idea.

“Hey,” Soldier Boy talked behind Butcher and stepped in closer between both of you. “You fucking stay back from this, you ain’t doing shit with your blood whips.”

Furious, you motioned your hand to draw fresh blood from a wound on his cheek and created a sharp blade, cutting his skin lightly. Soldier Boy clenched his jaw before smirking at you.

“Talk to me like that ever again and I’ll blow your dick, and not the way you like it,” you warned through your teeth.

Soldier Boy wiped the blood off the fresh wound, and smiled anew before patting Butcher on the shoulder. “She’s all yours, pal.”

With that, the old supe disappeared in the next room. You just wanted this to be over, so you turned around to get inside your room, but Butcher wouldn’t leave you alone just yet, putting his foot between the door and the frame, holding it with his super strength.

“What the fuck you want now?!” you yelled at him as he made his way inside, slamming the door closed.

“Imma have to call the fucking CIA if you don’t calm down your ass,” he threatened between his teeth.

“You wouldn’t-”

“I can, and I fucking will,” he insisted, taking slow strides, making you step back from him until your back met the wall.

His eyes were getting dangerously dark and you could smell the sweat and dry blood coming from him. You noticed his pulse was increasing, and you grinned. Your mind jumped to an unsafe place where you probably knew what Butcher was feeling right now. The heat and coming down the high of what could have been the end of both yours and his enemy was too much to burden. Little did he know that you were the kind of person that used to take out the stress with something, or someone. Just like him.

“From one to ten, how much do you hate me?” you asked all of the sudden, looking straight into his eyes.

Butcher’s fierceful gaze turned into confusion. “What?”

“How fucking much do you hate me?” you repeated yourself steadier.

Butcher rolled his eyes before answering in a whisper. “I’d choose a one thousand scale for that.”

“Good, I hate you too,” you replied with a smirk before pulling him for a kiss that turned heated too fast, but you didn’t care.

You needed release. Something quick, hard and hot to take it out of your system. He was perfect for the task, and by the way his tongue tasted your mouth, you found out that he wouldn’t step back. At least you hoped so. The tension between both of you was so damn sharp and it was just a matter of time for that bomb to explode, and you preferred it this way instead of fighting each other to death.

Gripping the neck of his shirt to get even closer as you kissed, Butcher’s hands roamed all over your hips, running on your sides until he met the flesh of your ass on your jeans, pressing you towards his chest. You gasped against his mouth when he started to unzip your pants, you worked immediately on the buttons of his shirt. Desperately, you discharged his shirt, the fabric being followed to his pants, and he undressed you with the same eagerness until you were only panties and bra.

Butcher lifted you up from the ground, hands on your thighs as he guided you to the mattress. He crawled on top of you, spreading your legs with his big, rough hands and leaning down to lick down at your chest and rip your bra off. His action made you gasp out loud at the same time he sucked on a nipple like a starved man.

“You're a fucking beast,” you whimpered, feeling his hands peeling off your panties and leaving you completely exposed at his mercy.

You tugged at his jeans and he pulled them down along with his boxers as quickly as he could, taking out his dick with that smug smile on his stupid face. He noticed your eyes taking the sight of his half nakedness, biting your lip slightly once you focused on his hard cock pressing on your crotch. It only made you wet.

“Well, I plan to fuck you like one,” he said, grabbing the back of your legs and rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds.

“Show me, don’t talk- fuck!”

You let out a rather loud moan when he rubbed your clit with his fingers, playing with your entrance until he inserted a single, thick digit in your pussy. Butcher stretched you out with a finger, then slid a second one, scissoring them to reach your deepest spots as your walls clenched around his digits. You kept whimpering and moaning as he increased the thrusts of his hand.

“Bloody fuck, these are the only sounds I like coming from your mouth, luv,” he hissed, sensing that you almost came on his fingers.

Right before you reached your high, he pulled out and you groaned in annoyance, feeling empty once again.

“Shit,” you breathed out.

He positioned between your legs anew, getting comfortable as he started to push his tip against your slit. The grip of his hands on your thighs became a little harsh once he entered you slowly, the thickness of his cock splitting you open.

“What a tight cunt I always knew you’d be,” he grunted, filling you up completely and leaning down to mark your neck with his teeth.

His mouth and thrusts earned him your sweet moans as he fucked you senseless. The burning soon turned into pleasure. Your nails scratched his back while moaning incoherent words. His hands on your thighs would leave marks on your skin, but it felt so damn good. You needed a little bit of pain to remind you that you were alive, rotting for that sweet bliss only sex could give you.

Moans escaped from your throat and mingled with his deep groans and the sound of your skin against his own, the headboard of the bed hitting the wall with every of his hard thrusts. You pulled him down for a wet kiss when you felt closer and closer to come undone.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you gasped.

Butcher increased the rhythm of his thrusts, his cock throbbing as your walls started to clench around him.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he mumbled against your mouth.

“Do you still hate me?” you asked, trying to catch your breath. You reached down to rub your clit. You were so close, almost there.

“If I keep fucking you like this then I might change my mind- holy fuck!”

In that moment, you came hard with a string of curses and clenching your walls around his cock. The pound of his hips increased and he fucked you through your orgasm to reach his own. You continued rubbing your clit, fingers finding the place where you two connected, meeting his cock coated with your juices when he pulled out just slightly to slam back inside again.

Butcher emptied his cum inside you, mumbling dirty words against your ear. His rhythm slowing down eventually, fucking his seed in your pussy. Once he came down from his high, he pulled out and rolled by your side on the bed. Your body started to ache but in the best way possible. It was the best fuck you had in a long time. After a couple of minutes in complete silence you decided to talk, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I hope you keep hating on me…”

He turned slightly to see your blank face. “Why?”

“I love hate-fucking.”

He scoffed with a smile curving on his lips. “You bet I enjoyed this too.”

Within a second, you climbed on top of him. Thighs straddling his lap as you rubbed your cunt on his soft cock.

“Second round? You can eat me out and suck your cum out of me,” you gave him a wink, rolling your hips and leaning down for a quick kiss.

“Dirty girl,” Butcher whispered on your lips. “Perhaps put your mouth into good use.”

“I like how that sounds,” you smiled back at him.

Billy Butcher taglist

@delaynew

@thesilmarillionblog

@feyresqueen

@drasticemotions

[tuiccim]

We're Gonna Burn (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen, Non/DubCon (because sex pollen), enemies to lovers.

Summary: When an exposure to a strange powder makes you feel as if you're burning to death, your only relief is in the person you hate the most. Now, dealing with the aftermath makes you question everything.

We're Gonna Burn Masterlist

Knocking on his door a short time later, you felt the fear and panic rise from your stomach to take a stranglehold on your throat. Dipping into the tenacity that had made you into a badass, you straighten your spine and wait, staring ahead with purpose. You felt it wobble for just a second when the door opened but you breathed in deeply and met his gaze directly. Your insides quelled but your mask never fell.

“Hi,” Bucky says softly, almost timidly.

“May I come in?” Your voice sounds harsh to your own ears, but it was necessary to keep it from trembling.

“Yeah, of course,” He steps back to allow you entry and you notice that he is giving you a wide berth. Even once you had turned back to him as he closed the door, he moved to ensure you could get to it without issue. As if he wanted to ensure you didn’t feel trapped. “So, uh, I think I owe-”

“Thank you,” you blurt, cutting him off.

“Wha, uh, what?”

If your nerves weren’t shot you probably would have smiled at the confused expression on his face. “Thank you for how you wrote your report. I appreciate that you were… discreet.”

Bucky just nodded, looking at you askew.

“I was as well. Not that you needed to know that,” you cross your arms to help hold yourself together.

“I read yours,” he says.

You give a curt nod. “Who else have you told?” You feel almost mean asking the question when he looks back at you with such sad eyes but you had to know.

“The doctor, my therapist, and Alpine,” Bucky says.

“Who’s Alpine?” You narrow your eyes.

“My cat,” his lips quirked the tiniest bit.

For some reason, the humor of it puts you a little more at ease. “You have a cat?”

As if knowing she was the subject of conversation, a fluffy white cat with big blue eyes rounds the corner letting out a small meow. She rubs against Bucky’s leg and then decides to study you. You crouch down as she approaches but don’t reach for her. You let her come to you, keeping your hands in plain sight with your forearms resting on your thighs. She sniffs at you, rubs her furry head against your hand and then puts a paw on your thigh to stretch closer to your face. Your eyes flick up to Bucky to see his surprised expression but you return them to Alpine quickly. Giving her a slow blink to show you mean her no harm, she moves her head up to rub against your chin and, following her lead you bring your forehead down to give her a head boop. She meows happily, jumps on the couch and gives you an expectant look while making circles.

“She wants you to sit with her,” Bucky’s voice breaks you out of the trance this little interlude had put you in.

“Oh,” you move to sit beside the white cat and she immediately makes camp on your lap. You stroke her soft fur, a small smile curving your lips.

“Uh, can I?” Bucky gestures to the opposite end of the couch.

“It’s your couch,” you say nervously.

“Alpine doesn’t often take to people like that,” Bucky says as he sits.

“Really?”

“She’s usually pretty standoffish. Kind of like you,” Bucky shrugs.

Your brow furrows at the comment but you decide to let it go. The last thing you wanted right now was to turn the conversation contentious. You worked your lips trying to form your next question but he spoke quickly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he looks away.

“It’s fine.” You look down at the cat happily purring in your lap and then look up at him, “Are you… all healed up?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that but, yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good. And before you have to ask, yes, I’m healed. Physically,” you whisper the last word but can tell he heard it.

“I’m sorry for what happened. What I did, to you.”

“We did it to each other. It wasn’t your fault. Unless you knew it could happen. You didn’t know that was where they conducted those experiments, did you?” You felt wrong for asking but needed the reassurance.

“No! No, I would never have taken the mission if I did. I would have insisted they send a biohazard team. I may be a jerk but I wouldn’t wish that stuff on my worst enemy.”

“As your worst enemy, that’s good to know,” you try to lighten the moment.

“You aren’t my worst enemy. You’re my teammate,” Bucky says, incredulously.

“Coulda fooled me. You’ve hated me since I got here,” you scoff.

“Because I knew you were sent to observe me. I knew as soon as you got here that you were meant to watch over me. I’m still a threat as far as they’re concerned.”

“You arrogant son of a bitch!” You’re seething with the realization of the source of his disdain, “I was sent here to round out the team. My placement had nothing to do with keeping tabs on you. No wonder you question my every move. I can’t possibly be good at this job since the only reason I exist on this planet is to check up on Bucky fucking Barnes. Well, fuck that, Barnes, I’m damn good at my job and have skills that the team needs. Not that you ever cared to notice the value of my input!”

Bucky seemed taken aback by your reaction but still narrowed his eyes as he asked, “Why else would they send someone with a background in psychology?”

“I don’t know. What possible advantage could psychological insight have when dealing in espionage or motive?” You stare him down, your jaw steely and eyes filled with umbrage.

And he floundered as you did. His mouth worked several times as if trying to form some rebuttal but in the end his eyes met yours with clear defeat in them. “Exactly,” you sign his epitaph. “Look, you can believe whatever you want but that-”

“I believe you,” Bucky says.

You look him over, trying to determine his sincerity. It was then that your background in psychology kicks in somewhere in the back of your brain. He has a huge chip on his shoulder. A constant reminder that most people will always see him as a murderous ghost assassin rather than the tortured war hero that he is. He probably never trusts anyone’s motives until they’ve proven themselves. You were no different and knowing how the system works you can’t blame him for fearing that any new face was just meant to keep tabs on him. After all, even knowing he is free from the grasp of Hydra, the Dora Milaje still keeps tabs on him. When you can’t trust your own mind, how can you trust new faces that appear?

“Do you think that we can move past all of this?” You ask. The question seems to catch him off guard and so you elaborate to give him time, repeating what you had told Dr. Montesi. “Look, I want to be part of a team that has mutual respect for each other. If you can never give me that respect, if you can’t move past your prejudices or what happened in that cabin to see me as an asset, I don't want to work with you. I'm not asking to be friends, just co-workers, teammates, whatever you want to call it. Preferably ones who can talk without all the biting commentary.”

“Are you afraid of me?” Bucky asks quietly.

You’re taken aback by the question but answer quickly, “No.”

“Were you when we were in that cabin?” He asks, not quite meeting your eyes.

“No,” you search your brain as to why he would ask that question. “I wasn’t afraid of you. I was scared about what was happening, the lack of control, the fear of burning to death. I wasn’t scared of you physically. Mentally, I was terrified that you would tell everyone. That you would lord it over me that you had… gotten me in bed. That you would make me a laughingstock. It’s no small feat to make it to where I am as a woman but it can all be taken away just as quickly when people lose the respect you’ve earned. When they start seeing you as an object rather than a person.”

“You really thought I would do that?” Bucky asks.

“You hate me. You have since I got here and what better way to take me down a few pegs and prove that I don’t belong here? What a way to bring me to heel and force me out, right? Yes, I thought it was a possibility.” You admit everything and watch the hurt and emotions that cross his face.

“And now? Do you still think I would do that?”

“Honestly, no. For one thing, you haven’t done it. And when I read your report,it was as succinct as possible while also shining me in a good light, I realized you maybe weren’t that kind of person. Then, I-” you cut yourself off, not wanting to reveal too much.

“You?” Bucky pushes.

“I read your other reports for missions we had been on together. You keep it short but you also always mention others' contributions to the outcome, mine included. Reading them, I thought that, maybe, at some point you had started to see me as an asset. That somewhere in all of the times we worked together you had built some grudging respect for me. And if that was the case, somewhere under the asshat facade you wear, there’s a good man I haven't gotten to meet yet.”

“When you first got here, you were too friendly and I put up all my defenses. You… scared me,” Bucky admits quietly.

You nod, grasping exactly what he means. To him, you had seemed like someone with an agenda, trying to get under his skin. You decide to match his vulnerability, “I was interested in your story. I wanted to get to know the Howling Commando who was the first to fall and the last still fighting. You’re kind of a living legend.”

“So, you’re a fangirl?” He smirks.

“Uh, how very dare you. No,” you can’t help the little scoffing laugh that escapes. “More like a history buff.”

“Okay, I’ll go with that.”

You smile at each other, a feeling of comradery flowing between the two of you for the first time. But, still, you need reassurance and the question had to be asked, “So, does this mean you think that we can move past all of this and keep working together?”

“I’d like to. You?” He looks at you hopefully.

“Yeah,” you smile.

“Good. That’s good,” he nods.

“Yeah. Okay, I should get going,” you look down to the cat napping in your lap. “Sorry, Alpine. Time for me to get out of here.” The cat looks up at you as you gently place her on the floor. She stretches and then looks at Bucky, letting out a loud meow before walking away.

“She’s letting me know it’s time for food,” Bucky chuckles.

“I see who’s the boss around here,” you laugh.

“Oh, 100% her,” Bucky smiles as he stands.

You were almost to the door when Bucky said your name. You turn back to him in surprise and listen as he says, “Thanks for this. For talking.”

“Yeah, of course,” you turn away again but your mind is screaming because he had used your first name. Part of you wanted to let it go, to not ask about the one thing that bothered you most about what happened. To let sleeping dogs lie and keep the new peace that had been formed between you. But you know yourself, it will haunt you and working up the courage to bring it up later would likely never happen. It felt like once the door closed behind you when you left, you may never be able to get back to the one question that you needed answered. You whirl back around, “Wait. There’s one more thing. A question I have to ask.”

“Anything. What is it?” Bucky asks nervously.

If his stomach felt anything like yours, it’s in knots with fear that all the progress that had just been made would crumble to dust once the question was asked. You watch yourself twist your hands as the words tumbled out, “When we were…at the cabin, there was this one thing that, the, uh, you, at one point you, there was, you,” frustrated with yourself you blurt out the question, “Why did you make me say your name?”

You meet his eyes, yours filled with curiosity and just a touch of accusation and his tinged with fear and… sadness? You couldn’t quite read him.

“Ah, that. I, um, everything was so beyond our control. It felt like-, we were forced into this situation. And we didn’t have a choice in what we were doing but it was…”

“A small semblance of control?” You provide.

“Yeah, but more than that. I didn’t have any control over myself as the Winter Soldier. I was always the asset or Soldat. When we were in that cabin, Hydra had control of me again and the only way I could ground myself, to remind myself I wasn’t Soldat again was that,” Bucky looks into your eyes, “I was with you. I wasn’t alone and I wanted, I- I needed to hear my name. To be reminded that I was still Bucky even if Hydra did have control of my body, my mind was still my own. That Bucky meant something to me and it wasn’t lost again. So, I made you say it. I’m sorry. I know it was me taking away more control from you but I,” he stopped, looking away. His eyes were rimmed red and his demeanor screamed the feeling of shame overtaking him.

“It’s okay.” It took a few seconds for you to form the response you felt would give you both the closure you needed. You had rarely touched another person since the incident. Touch was overstimulating and occasionally triggering to you, but leaving that behind, you reach out and cup his cheek, “I understand. It wasn’t about me and that’s what I needed to know. It’s okay… Bucky.”

He covered your hand with his own, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch, “Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive-”

He interrupted, seemingly unsatisfied with your denial, “I tried so hard not to take any more advantage of the situation than was necessary. I didn’t try to kiss you or force you to look at me. I just needed-”

“Bucky,” you waited until he looked at you, “I forgive you.” You nod and whisper again, “I forgive you.”

He stares at you in awe for a few moments. He reached to caress your cheek in the same way you held his. You mouth, “It’s okay” again to reassure him. You stay frozen like that for a few moments just staring into each other. You feel something shift inside of you and track when his glance slips to your lips and then back up again. Instinctively, you do the same but suddenly fear grips you. Panic begins to roll up from your stomach and your skin suddenly feels like it's being scorched by the heat of his hand on your face.

“MROW!” The loud yowl from Alpine pulls you both back to reality and you separate quickly. The cat was obviously impatient about her delayed dinner.

You let out a breathy laugh, “I’ll let you get to her dinner.”

“Uh, yeah. Dinner, right,” Bucky says. He watches your quick retreat but before you close the door he calls out, “Have a good night… doll.”

“You, too… Bucky.”

Part 4

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[aemondsbabe]

Care & Keeping

summary: after aegon suffers injuries at rook's rest, you and aemond nurse him back to health

pairing: aemond targaryen x sister!reader x aegon targaryen

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, canon typical incest, mentioned canon injuries, no gore, threeway relationship, threesome, teasing, orgasm delay, unprotected sex, titty sucking, oral sex (m!receiving), fingering, dirty talk, aegond fr like they kiss and stuff, playful sibling bickering but they fuck about it, aemond is a tit, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.3k

a/n: I DID IT! i posted a fic again! happy to be back!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @tragicsiblings

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“Such a spoiled thing…,” Aemond mutters while his fingers work through Aegon’s silky hair, the strands freshly washed during his bath earlier in the day – something you and Aemond had assisted with as well, much to the displeasure of Maester Orwyle and the servants. A part of you understood the maester’s concerns, after all a slip or fall would be devastating for your brother this far along in his healing, yet… 

Well, he listened to you and Aemond. He would sit in the bath without complaint for the two of you, would let you wash over his delicate skin and comb through his hair with little more than a scoff or eye roll. Not so for the others, to whom he grumbled and carried on, insisting he need not be babied. 

“Hush, he deserves to be taken care of,” you chide your little brother playfully, chuckling as you lie against Aegon’s chest, savoring the sound of his heart beating steadily in your ear, “He’s lived through dragon fire, after all… That deserves a reward, no?”

“Listen to our sister, Aem,” your older brother chuckles, petting his hands over you in much the same way yours move over his waist and stomach – careful of the still-healing scars there, “What is it our grandsire says? Wisdom is from the children, some drivel like that?” 

“Wisdom oft comes from the mouths of babes, my love,” you correct him with a snigger, smirking when you peer up at him. 

“That’s the one!”

“I’m younger than her, you dolt,” Aemond sighs, a bite to his words even as he teases, though Aegon pays it no mind – too busy spread between you and your brother like a lazy, happy house cat. 

“Mm, then you should be smarter, no?”

“I…,” Aemond sighs before simply shaking his head with a soft sigh and teasing grumble, combing his fingers through his long hair in mock frustration. 

This is how the three of you have spent as much time as you could since that fateful day at Rook’s Rest, when Aegon and Aemond both nearly lost their lives plummeting to the battlefield in a fiery tangle. Aemond had, by the grace of the Gods, escaped without too many injuries. However, your eldest brother had not been so lucky and had been caught in the fires of Meleys, leaving him with life threatening burns and broken limbs that had thankfully healed almost miraculously well over the last few weeks. 

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you snuggle against Aegon, saying yet another quick prayer to the Seven as thanks for keeping him safe and, relatively, in one piece. Unfortunately, Aemond had been made to step in and act as regent, which meant that the three of you couldn’t spend all your time together, much to your displeasure. 

That is what had kept you all apart for most of the day – official duties that had carried on much too long, especially for your younger brother. By the time he had finished with Small Council business, it was well past supper and you and Aegon had already been tucked in bed together, enjoying the cool breeze blowing in from Blackwater Bay. As nonchalant as Aemond acts about the whole affair, his true feelings are betrayed time and time again when he stumbles when he all but rips his tunic and boots off, nearly in a frenzy, eager to join the two of you in bed. 

“How does the Council fare, little brother? Have they fallen to pieces in my absence?”

“Mm,” Aemond hums, the corners of his lips just barely lifting into a smirk while he rubs over Aegon’s sore shoulders, making the elder sigh in contentment, “They’re being much too soft on that traitorous bitch queen for my liking… forcing us sit up here like a herd of lambs for slaughter.”

Aegon lets out a soft giggle, the sound of it reverberating in your ear while he tilts his head back to look up at his brother, “And what would you do, hm? Take Vhagar and sack Dragonstone singlehandedly?”

“She could do it,” the prince regent muses, leaning down and pressing soft kisses against your older brother’s head, his lilac eye sparkling at the thought of turning that blasted place into no more than a fiery heap of rubble. His lips linger against Aegon’s pale hair, muffling the sound of his soft chuckle, “Why not turn all of those spoiled bastards into smoldering piles of ash and be done with it?”

“You, dearest brother, are beginning to sound very much like our uncle,” you tease, peering up at Aemond with a smirk, “All violence and warfare.”

A soft laugh is pulled from your lips as your brother’s angular face twists into a disgusted scowl, “You think so lowly of me as to compare me to him, sweet sister?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it,” you murmur knowingly, sharing a playful glance with Aegon, much to Aemond’s disapproval. 

“You both know very well I hate that creepy old –”

“Then why is your cock hard against my back, brother?” Aegon quickly interjects, descending into raucous giggles. The sound of his laughter quickly gets to you and your lips crack into a wide smile before you can hide it, a snort of laughter following soon after. 

Above you, Aemond sputters for a few seconds before finally letting out a pained groan, though his lips are turned up into a subtle smile. 

“You want to fuck our uncle,” Aegon giggles, the near giddy sound of his laughter reverberating in your ear. 

Your eldest brother’s laughter is cut short as Aemond behind him begins peppering kisses over his neck, sweeping his hair out of the way as the elder lets out a quiet gasp, the planes of his stomach tensing beneath your cheek. 

“And what if it’s you I wish to fuck, Your Grace?” The name makes Aegon shudder while goosebumps bloom over his pale skin as he lets out a thick sigh, the sheets at his waist beginning to tent. 

Aemond’s words cause heat to bloom between your own thighs and you smile up at him as he shifts behind your older brother, no doubt pressing his clothed length against his back, letting him feel it. 

“Awful tease,” Aegon whines, the petulance in his voice making you chuckle. It’s then that he directs his darkening violet gaze to you, quirking a brow, “Don’t you act all innocent, as if you haven’t been torturing me for weeks, little minx.”

A smirk blooms on your lips as his largely uninjured arm raises to encircle your waist, holding you more tightly against him while you press a soft trail of kisses over his pale skin. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” the words leave your mouth in a soft hum, warm against the patch of blond hair on his chest. A lie, of course. Maester Orwyle had taken great pains over the past few weeks to make it absolutely crystal clear that Aegon was in no state to be played with, that all of his body needed rest and healing. 

The old man had said it in the hopes of you and Aemond keeping Aegon away from the Street of Silk, of course. There was no doubt in your mind that your older brother could talk any of the guards or servants into smuggling him into the city. Yet, little did they know he hadn’t been whoring in months, not since the three of you had finally given into your desires. 

It had been well into the night when Aemond had stumbled into your chambers, dripping with rainwater and heaving soft sobs. You’d held him closely and listened as he had explained the awful mess that had happened with Rhaenyra’s youngest bastard, his voice trembling so hard you’d had to strain to understand at parts. 

You’d ushered him into older brother’s chambers quickly afterwards, not knowing what else to do and naively praying he might be able to help – to do something, anything, as king. Being Aegon, of course, the event had devolved into drinking – just to soothe Aemond’s nerves, he had said. 

The three of you woke together in the morning, naked and tangled up in His Grace’s soft sheets. 

With the promise of war looming heavily on the horizon, you had scarcely separated from them since then. There was a possibility of losing them both and you wanted to savor them for as long as you could, for whatever time was left. 

“Ah, you don’t, do you?” Aegon’s voice cuts through the visions swirling in your head, pulling you back to the present. His hand skims down over your back and hip until he can cup the curve of your ass, drawing a breathy laugh from you, “So you’ve just been wearing these gauzy, insufferable excuses for nightgowns for no good reason, then?”

“Perhaps I wear them to catch the eye of the guards as I make my way here?” Your eyes gleam with mischief when you peer up at him, knowing exactly how territorial he can be. 

His hips rut up against the sheets, cock straining beneath the white linen of them and already leaving wet patches on the fabric while a deep groan rumbles from his chest. Behind him, Aemond chuckles while he continues to press kisses over Aegon’s pale skin, marking up each side of his neck. 

“Teasing cunts, the both of you.”

“Tsk, there’s no need for that, you ungrateful cretin,” your little brother snaps, although there’s no real meanness in his tone – merely a strange, brotherly teasing that you fear you’ll never truly understand, “To think, we’ve been kind enough to take care of you all this time and this is how you behave.”

“Aemond’s right, my love,” your voice comes out as a soft coo, even as you peer at your eldest brother with a playful smirk, “We’ve been so kind to you… How many times do you think we swallowed your seed before you were well enough to fuck again?”

“W-Well, I–” Aegon stammers, flushing so hotly that even the pale column of his neck turns a slight pink shade. 

“Mm, all so mummy wouldn’t see how you’d stain the sheets otherwise, isn’t that right, dearest sister?”

Your lips curl into an almost vicious smile at Aemond’s jab, relishing the way Aegon’s dark eyes widen at the mere mention of your mother. Poor thing, you remember how embarrassed he’d been the first time he’d been desperate enough to rut against the bed sheets until they were dirtied with his spend, left to his own devices late at night after you and Aemond had retired to your own chambers. 

He’d sobbed against your chest that evening while he recounted the Maester mentioning it in the morning, pleased that all the king’s precious parts were still in working order, yet that did little to numb the sting of your mother’s stare – evidently disappointed that he’d debase himself in such a manner. 

“Quite right, little brother,” you all but purr, rising to your knees before carefully maneuvering yourself over one of Aegon’s thick thighs, mindful still of any tender spots, “Isn’t there anything you’d like to say to us, Aeg?”

“I… T-Thank you,” he finally manages to huff out, violet eyes staring hungrily at where your warm heat presses against him – achingly hot through the thin fabric of the sheets. 

“Good boy, Your Grace,” Aemond whispers against the shell of your brother’s ear, his gaze just as hungry as Aegon’s as they both look over you – the lacy, satin material of your nightgown doing precious little to disguise anything below it. 

“He can be sweet when he wants to be,” you murmur, smiling at the way your eldest brother’s head tips back against Aemond’s pale chest when you lightly scratch your nails over his tummy, tracing a path down beneath the sheets. An amused little giggle spills from your lips when his hips rut against your hand the second you gently grab at his length, giving it a light squeeze, “Can’t you, lovely boy?”

Grunting, Aegon merely nods while soft whimpers spill from his lips at the feel of your hand on him, of Aemond’s lips against his neck. 

“Please, fuck,” he groans, swallowing thickly and licking at his lips while he tries to buck up into your hand – his movements jerky and uncoordinated from being off of his feet for so long, “Seven Hells…”

Giggling at his grumbling, you tilt your head to the side as you look over him. Even injured and half-healed, he’s beautiful. In all the places where Aemond is lean and toned, Aegon is thicker, more stocky and soft; the juxtaposition between the two of them has always made your heart flutter.

“Tell us what you want.” 

Aegon whines at Aemond’s firm command, but obeys nonetheless. The way his dark gaze immediately finds your own makes your lips curl into a proud smirk.

“Want you, please…,” he finally breathes and disentangles his hands from where they’d been clawing at the sheets to instead run them over your thighs, one moving more easily than the other – his injured arm still trembles. 

“Mm, you’ll need to be more specific,” You can resist teasing, he just begs so prettily. 

“Gods, your cunt,” the way he impatiently growls the words makes you snigger, “Insolent little wit– Agh!” 

“You’ll be nice to our sister,” Aemond hisses, smirking as he gives a harsh pinch to Aegon’s nipples, “Or you can lie here and watch me enjoy her instead.”

A scowl blooms on your eldest brother’s face at the threat and he gives an almighty huff before thankfully settling; your little brother may have no qualms about denying him, but you prefer to indulge him, truly. Smiling wickedly, you fix Aegon with an almost innocent expression – brows drawn up just slightly, eyes widened… before sliding your gaze from his violet eyes and up to Aemond’s single lilac one. 

“You know, baby brother,” you start, arching your back just enough to press your breasts out enticingly, putting on a show for them both, “If I’m to take His Majesty’s cock, I’ll need some help readying myself…”

Aemond’s snicker is such a sharp contrast to Aegon’s broken groan. 

“Wouldn’t you like that?” Your younger brother rasps into your eldest’s ear, petting through his hair with a gentleness that one wouldn’t expect from such calloused hands, “Hm? To watch while I prepare our lovely girl for your lovely cock, dear brother?”

Aegon nearly wheezes at that, as if the mere thought of it has knocked all the wind from his lungs. 

“Fuck, please,” he whines, nuzzling against Aemond’s touch like a cat, “Want it, please.”

“Anything to get my cock in her faster,” is the unspoken truth there, one he’d made the mistake of voicing before. Aemond had made sure that was a long night. 

“Shh, sh, sh,” he soothes him now, gently petting over his chest while he kisses over the side of his face, “You’ll get to watch.”

Aegon lets out slightly pained grunts as Aemond works his way out from behind him to stand at the edge of the bed, taking the time to make sure he’s propped comfortably against the pillows before his touch finally leaves him. With a dark chuckle, your little brother swiftly climbs back up on the bed, nude save for the soft linen trousers hanging low on his hips. 

“Now, I believe I have some business to attend to, don’t I, love?” He whispers against the shell of your ear while he takes his place behind you – kneeling and holding you against his chest. As always, a barely there sigh leaves his lips at the way the soft satin of your nightgown feels against his skin; it’s a sensation he’s grown to crave ever since you began ordering those special silks – the ones imported from Lys, the same ones Alicent insists on using for her sleepwear as well. 

He’s never told a soul, but the feeling brings him comfort – brings back memories of being held and comforted, of before his mother became hardened to the world. 

You can’t help the gasp that tumbles from your lips when he bites at your neck and roughly tilts your head to the side, long fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of your neck, “Please, little brother.”

“You know I’d never deny you, sweetling,” his breath is warm against the crook of your neck while his hands caress over your body, drawing soft whimpers and groans from the man lying on the bed below you. Aemond takes his time, never one to rush, and lets his touch linger over every part of you.

Starting at your shoulders, he runs his hands over your arms before skirting them back up and over your sides, making your nightgown ride further and further up your hips as he does. Just as he cups your breasts, you lean down against Aegon’s chest to let him feel the way Aemond’s long fingers work against you, mindful not to rest against him too firmly.

The heat from being trapped between their two bodies is nearly stifling but you’d never dare pull away. 

“Gods, Aem,” you whine when he plucks at your nipples, rolling them between his long fingers while you pant against Aegon’s pale throat. Your older brother’s good arm comes up to circle possessively around your waist, keeping you pressed against him, long past caring if it sparks soreness within him. 

“You feel so good,” Aegon whimpers against your hair, his voice little more than a needy growl while he ruts his hips up against your stomach. Chuckling, you nip over his collarbones just enough to leave small marks behind, painting him as yours. 

“If I feel good now, just think of how good I’ll feel around you,” you murmur against his chest, relishing the way he keens – the way his cock twitches against you, doubtlessly leaking steadily against the thin bed sheet separating the two of you.

“Fucking dripping,” Aemond mutters behind you, letting out a satisfied chuckle against your spine while his deft fingers begin circling over your sensitive pearl, “Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

“Always for the two of you,” your voice shakes as you reply, words getting caught in your throat with each movement of your brother’s long fingers against your center.

“Did you hear that, brother?” Aemond says smugly, his low voice dripping with satisfaction, “Seems our dear sister is quite the little whore for us.”

“Mhm, mhm,” your eldest brother strenuously agrees, jerkily nodding his head while you let him hump against you, savoring the way the hard line of his cock presses against your belly, “O-Our whore, yes.”

“You’d better not let him spend,” Aemond growls, his good eye narrowing when he sees what you’re allowing to happen. He tugs at your hair hard enough to have you hissing and smirks at the sound.

“I won’t, I won’t,” you huff, rolling your eyes only to yelp when his large hand suddenly comes down on your ass. You can’t help the way you press back into it, the harsh sting settling over your skin like a warm blanket, “Gods…”

“Play nice,” he rasps, grinning at the way you cry out when he abruptly pushes two fingers inside your already-fluttering walls, “Or Aegon won’t be the only one left wanting.” 

“Mhm, yes, little brother,” you rush to say, readily agreeing – knowing all too well from experience that if Aemond meant to deny you, that there would be no talking him out of it. Lucky for him, the prospect of that was enough to placate you. Not that you even have the lung capacity to sass him, not with the way his long fingers move within you. 

Aegon whimpers in time with you each time the pads of your brother’s fingers brush against that sensitive spot within you, as if he can feel the pressure within you too. He lets you hold onto him and hardly even protests when Aemond angles your hips in such a way that the planes of your stomach don’t even rub over his neglected cock, the absolute prick. 

“F-Fuck, oh, fuck,” the curses are all but knocked from you with ear harsh thrust of Aemond’s fingers, the chambers silent save for the steady crackle of the fire in the hearth and the wet squelching noises sounding from between your legs – which only serve to spur your little brother on further. 

“So tight, Seven Hells,” he mutters, leaning over you and trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses up the curve of your spine. You can feel his lips curve up into a cocky grin when he presses his thumb against your bud, drawing a loud, gasping cry from your lips. 

“Aem, Aemond, I–”

“Shh, shh,” he soothes, smiling at the way Aegon’s hands, both of them, even the shaky, still-healing one, thread into your hair and comb through it – a gesture that’s calmed you since the three of you were children, “Be good and take it.”

That’s a lot easier said than done, especially when the world seems to tilt on its axis when he manages to slip a third finger into your aching sex. The stretch of it only makes the fire threatening to consume you burn all the brighter and twin groans fill the room when your walls pulse greedily around him. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Aegon all but breathes, his voice raw and shaky and dripping with a soft kind of praise he only ever gives to you, “So good for us.”

“Mm, our big brother’s right, sweetling,” Aemond hums, rubbing his thumb in tighter and tighter circles over your pearl and focusing the attention of his fingers within you on that spot that he knows makes you see stars. The effect is instantaneous and after no more than a couple seconds, you’re all but sobbing as you go limp on top of Aegon, unable to so much as hold yourself up as pleasure courses through you. 

Your younger brother smirks, you can’t see it but you can feel it, and groans low in his throat when your walls clench so tightly around his fingers that he can hardly move them at all. The only sounds coming from you are near pitiful squeaks in time with the movements of his hand. 

“Gods, so close, aren’t you?” Aemond all but growls against the shell of your ear, just as Aegon pulls you forward into a searing kiss, “Show it to me.” 

Powerless to do anything else, you let out a choked whimper against Aegon’s lips – practically sobbing into his mouth while his tongue licks against your own. Your high crests and crashes into you like the waves at Storm’s End, almost violent and bloodthirsty in the way it sends your pulse racing, in the way it nearly engulfs you. 

All the while, your brothers hold you steady. Aegon keeps an arm slung around your back, anchoring you to him, while Aemond uses his free hand to hold you upright as he wrings every drop of pleasure he can conjure up from you – not daring to stop until your pleasured moans turn to tortured gasps.

Finally, Aemond pulls his fingers from you with a satisfied grunt, leaving you panting as you slip from atop Aegon, shifting to lie beside him instead, curled against his largely uninjured side. Your eyes have hardly fluttered open before Aemond’s moving, leaning over Aegon like a shadowcat, finally victorious in hunting down its prey. 

“Taste,” he whispers, bringing his fingers, still glistening with the evidence of your orgasm, to your eldest brother’s lips. As usual, Aegon wastes no time and eagerly parts his hips and lets Aemond press them to his tongue. Your breath catches in your throat when his violet eyes roll back at the taste of you on your brother’s skin, a hungry, needy whine sounds from this throat while he takes the time to suck them clean. 

Your younger brother’s eye sparkles as he watches, his cock tenting the dark fabric of his trousers and pressing against Aegon’s thigh. 

“Aeg, don’t be greedy,” you finally pipe up, the air back in your lungs and a playful smirk on your lips, “Share with our little brother; he deserves it, no?”

Two sets of eyes land upon you, guided by the suggestive tone of your voice. Poor Aegon looks wide eyed and dazed, already half out of his mind and you haven’t even started on him. Aemond, on the other hand, looks downright predatory – dangerous in the low light. 

With a breathy chuckle, he sets upon your eldest brother, capturing his lips in a heated, almost savage kiss. Aegon sobs into it, his hips lifting on their own accord beneath the sheets as Aemond nips at his lip and sucks at his tongue with a barely contained lust. The elder reaches up with his good hand and threads his fingers through the younger’s long, pearlescent hair just as a rough, sword-worn hand gets wrapped around his throat, holding him in place. 

The sight of their frenzied affection makes your thighs clench, your core throbbing once more, uncaring that you’d found release only moments ago. Unable to resist, you lean in until your lips brush over the soft, pale skin of Aegon’s chest. You pepper it with kisses, making him whine and whimper into Aemond’s mouth. Shifting the bed sheets out of the way, you can’t help but bite at your lower lip at the sight of his cock – angry and flushed and leaking copiously, leaving a pool of it on his tummy. 

“Mm, it’s cruel to let him suffer this way,” you say lowly, meeting Aemond’s eye when he finally pulls away from Aegon, lips curling into a smirk that matches your own, “I promised the poor thing my cunt, I think he’s earned it.” 

“Please, please, f-fucking, please,” your eldest brother whimpers pitifully, hips bucking while you run your hand over his thigh as he looks between you and Aemond imploringly, violet eyes glassy. 

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you,” you promise, pressing one last kiss against his chest before turning to Aemond, “Help me onto him.” 

You’re moving before your brother can protest, can think of some other reason to tease. Ever since Aegon was injured, you’ve needed Aemond’s help to stay balanced the scant few times you’ve taken him. So much of his upper half was injured that you’re hardly able to put weight on one side of his chest, even now, which makes staying upright without assistance hardly worth the possible risk. 

“Fine, fine, I suppose the little whelp’s earned a treat,” your brother sighs and slips off the bed, taking care to help you straddle Aegon’s hips once more while he stands at the bedside. You take a second to pull off your lacy nightgown, smirking at the groans of appreciation you get in return. 

“Gah–fuck!” Aegon grunts the second your slick center presses against his aching length and presses his lips tightly together as his eyes squeeze shut, his fingers white-knuckled while he claws at the sheets, “S-Sweetling, please, please, I n-need you.”

“And you’ll have me,” your voice is sweet when you reply, soft and breathy. Your touches are the same, knowing that’s what he needs now. Balancing with one hand securely on Aemond’s shoulder, you watch as he leans down just enough to grab at your brother’s length and notch it at your entrance. 

“O-Oh… fuck, f-fuck, Seven Hells,” the words sound as if they’re being punched from Aegon’s chest, like he can hardly get enough of a lungfull to speak while you slowly sink down onto him. 

While he pants below you, nearly thrashing, you aren’t doing much better. Throwing your head back, you let your eyes flutter shut as a series of breathy moans spill past your lips. Silently, you’re thankful Aemond took the time to prepare you – sometimes they both get so wound up, preparation goes out the window and while you have come to love the nearly-painful ache of taking them without it, it’s always so much better like this. 

“Gods!” You nearly screech when Aemond suddenly rubs at your pearl, making you jump slightly atop Aegon, who lets out an equally embarrassing noise at the way your walls suddenly contract around him.

Aemond, on the other hand, looks entirely too pleased with himself as he straightens again. He takes the time to brush a lock of hair from your face and cups your cheek in such a gentle way that you nearly ignore the mischievous glimmer in his eye, “Just getting you started, sweet sister. I expect a show.” 

Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the cadence of his low voice and you nearly draw blood when he tugs at the drawstring on his trousers and lowers them just enough to free his length, the sight of it pulling twin groans from you and your eldest brother. 

Spurred on by the sight of it, of Aemond pleasuring himself to the vision of you atop Aegon, you begin rocking your hips. A satisfied sigh is tugged pulled from your lips at the feel of his cock moving within you – perfectly contoured to nestle against every sensitive spot within you as the head kisses your most inner depths. 

“Fuck, Aegon,” you breathe, letting out little gasps every time your bud brushes against the patch of blond hairs at the base of his cock. Each movement of him inside you stokes at the fire within you that’s steadily roaring back to life, greedy even after your previous release. 

“Don’t stop, don’t… Please, s-sister, I need–”

“I know, my love, I know,” you soothe him in a gentle tone, your free hand brushing gently over his chest and shoulder, trailing lightly enough over the column of his neck that he shivers, “I won’t stop.” 

A shiver runs through you when he nods and stares up at you – gazes at you with those big, dark eyes like you’re some goddess, like you’re the Mother in flesh form, taking his cock again and again. As usual, his eyes are quickly drawn to your chest and you can’t help but chuckle at the hungry look painted so clearly on his pale features – pink lips parted as he pants and whimpers. 

“Here, precious brother,” you whisper, carefully leaning forward, just enough to allow your breasts to sway in front of his face, peaked nipples just barely brushing over his lips, “Suck, go on.” 

You need not encourage him further as he quickly leans up just the slightest bit, just enough to wrap his full lips around one of your sensitive buds and suckle as if his life depended on it. A low, carnal groan sounds from his throat and vibrates against your skin, the sound of it making the walls of your center squeeze at him greedily. The knot in your belly grows tighter and tighter and judging from the desperate, harsh cants of Aegon's hips, you know neither of you will be lasting much longer. 

For a long moment, the only sounds that can be heard in the quiet of your eldest brother’s chambers are harsh pants, the noise of skin on skin, and Aemond’s barely concealed growls. 

“Gods, I– Fuck,” he pants, one hand stroking slowly over his generous length, pausing every so often to collect the slick steadily leaking from its flushed head, all the while his eye dances over you and Aegon, never settling in one place very long, “Love watching the two of you, s-so pretty…”

The little hitch in his voice makes your heart clench and sends a pleasured shiver up your spine – unlike Aegon, it’s hard to reduce Aemond to a stuttering mess so each time his words get caught in his throat is like a small badge of honor for you. 

The slick noises of your brother’s hand moving over his cock soon draw Aegon’s attention and he pulls away from your breast with a shuddered gasp, his good hand white knuckled on your thigh. He looks up at you almost apologetically, a new hunger evident in his darkened gaze, before his eyes trail over to Aemond’s length. 

“C’mon, then,” your little brother grunts, his lips pulled into a dirty smirk as he edges closer to the bedside, angling himself better for Aegon, “Good boy, go on.”

Licking his lips, Aegon leans forward just enough to get at Aemond’s cock; you and Aemond each let out soft moans when his mouth sucks at the flushed head. Aegon’s hips buck up into yours at your brother’s taste on his tongue and you know he’s close, teetering on the edge judging by how he shivers beneath you.

“Mm– fuck, yes,” Aemond grunts, rocking his hips little by little into your eldest brother’s waiting mouth, the sound makes your core clench once more and you can’t take it any longer. His low, breathy chuckle hardly meets your ears when you hastily trail a hand down your own stomach and start rubbing between your thighs – your fingers moving in tight, practiced circles over your pearl.

The feeling of your walls pulsating around his length again and again has Aegon crying out, the sound muffled around Aemond’s cock. You can feel his muscles tense beneath you while you spear yourself onto his length over and over, each movement causing the fire within you to burn brighter, to rage hotter. 

You brace yourself for his release, clinging to Aemond’s shoulder with one hand while the other works furiously at your bud, and yet…

“You don’t finish until she does,” Aemond breathes, shoving his cock deep enough down Aegon’s throat that the only reply he can give is a garbled groan. His violet eyes are wide and glassy, silently pleading with Aemond even though he knows it’s useless. 

“I-I’m close, I– Gods,” you pant, thighs burning while you all but thrash on top of your older brother, angling yourself in just the right way – causing the tip of his cock to rub against the most sensitive spot within you. Your eyes roll back in your head and stars dance in your vision and the feel of a gentle hand at your breast nearly makes you jump. 

Even lost in his own pleasure, Aegon would never forget you. He moans helplessly around Aemond as he thumbs at your nipple, providing just enough sensation to send you tipping over the edge. 

“Ah! Gods– Gods, f-fuck!” You cry out, your thighs trembling on either side of your brother's hips as pleasure overtakes you once more. Your lips part in a silent moan while your core all but milks Aegon’s high from him as well, the feel of his hot spend within you only adding to your pleasure. 

“Mmph, mmph!” He whines around Aemond as you slowly come to a stop on top of him, overstimulation quickly getting to you both. 

Aemond gasps at the sight before him, seeing the two of you in the throes of pleasure only adding to his own.

“Gonna… o-oh, fuck–” He grunts and before you can register what’s happening, he’s got an arm wrapped around your neck and is hauling you toward him. Your lips connect with his at a nearly bruising intensity and you can hear Aegon moaning with satisfaction when your brother finishes on his tongue, coating it with his spend. 

Your lips move against his for a long moment while he trembles, hardly able to stay upright while he licks into your mouth – the kiss more teeth and tongues than anything else. Finally, he pulls away, nipping at your bottom lip as he does before he fixes you with a nearly arrogant smirk. 

“Let our girl have a taste, big brother,” he drawls, pushing you back toward Aegon with a mischievous smirk. 

“Mm, how generous of you,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, shaking your head at Aemond before meeting Aegon in a heated kiss. Aemond’s familiar taste settles on your tongue while the man in question takes his place back behind Aegon, propping him on his chest and sighing at the familiar warm weight of his brother. 

When Aegon is pulled away from you a moment later, you use the opportunity to shift back to his side, knowing he must be sore from having you atop him, even if he dared not show it. You trail kisses over his neck while Aemond occupies his mouth, greedily licking his own spend from his brother’s tongue.

“You were so good for us,” Aemond praises him, his voice soft and gentle in a way he only ever uses here – in the calm, candlelit privacy with each of you like this, “Did everything I said, just perfect.”

“Mhm, our perfect brother,” you purr into Aegon’s ear, relishing the way he shudders. He’s quiet after he spends, the only time you won’t hear a sarcastic remark or a dirty joke. Instead, he’s… subdued, pliable in your arms – breathing easy while his eyes flutter closed, relishing the attention you give him.

You chuckle softly at the easy, satiated smile on his lips before your eyes meet Aemond’s over your older brother’s mess of tangled silver hair – something that’ll need to be sorted in the morning. 

“I love you,” you whisper against the side of Aegon’s head, pressing a soft kiss there, “Both of you.” 

“Sap,” Aegon quips, making you giggle.

“I hate you,” you murmur playfully, giving his good shoulder a soft shove.

“Not nearly as much as I detest you.” 

“Both of you are absolute ballaches,” Aemond finally sighs.

[bluesidez]

Can I request a Miguel O'Hara x Curvy reader where they both get intoxicated from sex pollen ??

[Sticky-Icky]

lab taster: @waterinthefire 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Curvy!Reader

summary: He's a lot less irritating when he puts his mouth to better use.

content warning: a PWP but you guys know me (there's a little plot), this is so 18+ that it's crazy so MDNI, sex pollen (or more like Miguel is playing around and doesn't know wtf he's doing), unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾) manhandling, temperature play if you squint, standing 69, facefucking, creampies, wrong use of webs, biting, breeding, spitting, squirting, cunnilingus, fellatio, fluff if you squint...I think that's it. my god.

word count: 4.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Listening to Sticky by Ravyn Lenae inspired part of this. Also watching several episodes of Kitchen Nightmares, Hell’s Kitchen, and Law & Order: SVU in the bg kept me sane. And one more rewatch of ATSV.

My duty as a fanfic writer is fulfilled as I give you this mandatory trope. 🫡

When you first started working at Spider HQ, you were amazed by the fact that one man was able to create all of this.

It was astounding, beyond what the gray tones of Nueva York could ever present to you.

Now, you think back to your glittering eyes during the first year working here and laugh.

Working for Miguel O’Hara was like squeezing a watermelon through a straw. He was impossible.

Nothing you did was ever satisfactory for him. Something could always be fixed. Sometimes, you wonder why he still kept you employed here.

Currently, he was turning his nose up at a salve you were working on for spiders whose healing time wasn’t nearly as quick as others.

“Run a new test. This batch is no good.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The formula could be better, it’s too thick, and why does it smell like that?”

The scent was similar to one you wore often and a lot of the spider-people that swung by the pharmacy seemed to like it.

“Uh, jade tea.”

The pinch in Miguel’s eyebrows deepened as he sniffed the air.

“Switch it to something else.”

You huffed, already tired of this conversation, “Well, what smell do you suggest?”

“Anything but this.”

“How about lavender, then? Perhaps peppermint.”

“And now, you’re being childish,” Miguel put the tin down before placing his hands on his hips. “You know there’s spider-people who can’t smell too much of that.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

He plopped a giant file on your desk, “Deal with that later. I need you to work on something else. For some reason, villains across dimensions are obtaining access to a substance similar to rapture. Every time there’s a mission, the spider-person of that dimension has been left affected. I need something to subside the effects until we can get them back here.”

“Ok, well do you have the substance with you?”

“No. But I’ll get you something soon. For now, I have a year’s worth of research on rapture. It should be of some use.”

You took the rubber band off of the manilla folder, something so old school for this era of tech.

You saw a line of formulas that started to make your head spin.

“Are there a lot of people affected right now?”

“Only a few. They’ve used the leftover solution I made a long time ago. It’s only going to work for so long,”

“Good. I need to sleep on this.”

Miguel’s head knocked back an inch, “Are you refusing work? The state of the heroes of different universes relies on this research. It’s not some science project-“

“I understand completely, Miguel, but I’m off the clock.”

He stopped and checked his watch, the red six o’clock burning back on him.

“I only work the hours you pay me, Spidey,” you reach to pat his arm and regret it when his stern face doesn’t move.

“Not interested in paid overtime?”

You bit your cheek to stop the laugh from coming out.

“That’s nice and all, but I’ve got plans.”

“Like what?”

“Like resting, sleeping, not touching lab work with a you-sized pole. All of these are things you aren’t familiar with. Plus, I have a date.”

A pause went through the room as you started to gather your things.

“Since when do you date?”

You push your chair under your desk harder than you mean to, “Since when do you care?”

“I,” he follows to the elevator, “care about my employees.”

“Sure, Miguel.”

If it weren’t for your tired state, you would think he looks a little sad at your statement.

“See you tomorrow, then?”

The doors start to close as you nod your head, Miguel’s gaze stuck just above your head.

Weird. Just like his frequent stops to your lab.

The feeling doesn’t leave your gut even as you’re smiling in your date’s face.

One minute, you’re laughing at a story about some amateur skateboarders Downtown, and the next, an electric billboard is being covered in tiny nano-spiders across the street.

“So the guy just takes one step on the board and then he’s flying. A straight line across the park.”

“That’s,” the spiders start to crawl into different lines. Then a logo forms, displaying the spider on Miguel’s suit next to an exclamation point. “So hilarious.”

Your date chuckles then follows your gaze, the silence too long, “Is there something wrong?”

The nano-spiders flipped around, the regular billboard showing like normal. You squint.

“No, I thought I saw something. Must have been my imagination.”

“You did say you were a little tired from work. Should we raincheck? We can always catch a movie another time.”

You wanted to say no, you’d been looking forward to tonight.

The billboard flickered to a little picture of Lyla with “SOS” above her head.

“Yeah, I should probably get going. Sorry about this.”

The way he doesn’t sweat you practically ditching him makes your heart pang. You’re already dreading another night exhausted and alone. Your date seemed promising.

You wave at him from your taxi, the route leading back to Spider HQ feeling like torture. You unclasp your purse and check your gizmo.

40 missed messages.

It’s not until you’re walking into the regular lobby that you turn it on.

“What is so important that you waste Margo’s time to interrupt my time?”

Lyla pops in your peripheral, hands up and wary, “I’m only doing what boss asks! Don’t get mad at me.”

“Lyla, why am I back here right now?”

“Well, Miguel has gotten himself in some particular trouble.”

You punch the elevator button, “Get to the point, please.”

“He went into your lab to try and start the solution he talked about earlier. After his first accident, he’s never had any luck with lab work, so uh. He’s kind of made a mess.”

The elevator moves and you look at Lyla, “What kind of mess?”

The doors open and you can smell it before you see it.

It’s poignant, like perfume soaked roses and patchouli. The scent hits you hard enough to make you grip the metal opening as you come out.

“What exactly did he do?” you breathe out.

Your limbs start to shake, nerves drumming from the inside out. A weight feels like it landed on your core, your stomach twitching as you continued to take in whatever had transpired.

“Something about DNA splicing and plants. I can trace his movements back if you’d like, but I’m also currently trying to figure out how to reverse it.”

“Great.”

You swing open the door to a disheveled Miguel. He’s sweating profusely as he tries to clean up your lab desk.

Before you can even begin to yell he’s fussing, “Lyla, I told you not to call her!”

“But you obviously don’t know what you’re doing.”

He bites his lip as he tries not to look at you, fingers trembling as he starts to store materials back into their drawers.

“Thought you had a date.”

“And I thought I told you stay away from my station,” you feel like a baby deer walking over to him.

When you get closer he sucks in his breath like you cut him, stopping in his tracks.

“I don’t think you should be near me,” he grunts. His eyes are dark, lips swollen with the way he’s biting them.

“What are you talking about? I’m trying to help you.”

You round the corner of the desk, the image of you two almost comical. Miguel moves to the edge of the desk, chest moving faster, while you chase after him trying to get a hand on his forehead.

He felt extremely cold compared to the numbness of your palm, despite how flushed he looked. His eyes close as your hand slides from his head to his neck, muscles there tensing.

“Please. Don’t,” he whispers.

“Who else is coming here to save you?” you ask, frustrated. “What did you do anyway?”

He doesn’t answer as he peers at you. Your heart is beating faster and you can’t tell if it’s because of the air or because of the way he looks like he’s about to climb you.

Every move you made felt like sharp pricks in your skin, the tight material of your dress digging into your hips. It felt like the ends of burning flames and you wanted it off. Your breaths were picking up and you couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on other than Miguel being your cooling solution.

“Miguel,” you sounded like you ran a marathon when all you did was step into his space.

“It’s the shocking formula that I screwed up. That’s why everything feels-“

“Like I need you,” you interrupt. “Like I want you on top of me.”

The insides of your thighs were fighting against themselves to stay together, the urge to let your legs fall around him strong.

“That’s just the chemicals talking. W-we can get somewhere safe and separated.”

You grab the back of his neck and pull yourself even closer, his hands gripping the table like a lifeline as he groans.

“So you don’t want me?” you press against him, caging a knee around him right next to his hand. “You don’t think about me?”

You can almost feel his heartbeat matching yours as you pull yourself up.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t wonder how I feel when you come into my lab snooping around? How I feel when you come in here barking orders?”

Your face is in his neck and you feel yourself clench around nothing as you take a deep breath. He smells like coffee and fabric softener, but there’s an underlying wave of musk. Of something so unbelievably him and you want to keep that scent close forever.

“I imagine you’re annoyed. But a job is a job.”

“But you still come in here asking for things you know someone else can do,” your panties are soaked, and from the way his nose flares, you know he knows. “Why?”

His teeth grit as you start to grind on him, the feeling giving you an inch of relief that only makes you want more.

“I, I don’t- It’s because I,” the counter began to crack under his hands. His muscles were pulled taut. “Dios, ayúdame.”

Maybe you were wrong, and your hazy mind only brought thoughts from the subconscious one.

“Fine. I get that you don’t like me but could you at least give me some type of relief?” you were whining in his ears at this point, a complete 180 of how you left him earlier today. With every grind of your hips, you left noises in his skin, desperate.

The desk made a terrible sound as Miguel finally lets go and grabs around your waist. Your breath is slammed out of you as your back hits the wall, Miguel’s hand holding your head to stop it from crashing into the wall too.

Your throat makes a gargled sound as Miguel licks down your jaw, his talons ripping into your dress. His tongue swipes into your mouth, breaths rapid as he finally gets a taste.

“I do like you. More than I should,” his words were passed right into you. “You and your smart mouth.”

“Then stop talking and do something about it.”

A yank in your hair stops your complaints, Miguel kissing down your side. Every press of his lips left a chilly flutter. Your hips are moving frantically, patience wearing thin. Right as you’re about to say something again, he flips you, the layers of your dress falling as he rips into your panties.

The blood rushes to your head as he takes a bite into your thigh, sucking as your legs fall to his shoulders.

You moan his name, hands gripping at his thighs. His kisses led to your lips, swollen and dripping. From your clit to your entrance, he groaned as he covered you, drinking like you were water in the middle of the night.

You felt like you were going to slip, but Miguel’s arms were looped around your legs, not letting go. His suit was in your way, your mouth salivating as his crotch stared back at you. Your fingers could only dig as far as his suit allows and you have half a mind to call Lyla to disengage it.

“Please,” you sigh as you rub his bulge with your cheek. “I need it so bad.”

“Cállate,” he hums, face delving deeper into you. The sound of him licking up every drop echos off the cool walls and the light of his suit dims away letting you see what you’ve been waiting for.

His length hits your chin, precum spilling down and you’ve never been more excited for a man to go commando. You open your mouth and let your breath hit him as you take a swipe down to his balls.

Miguel’s grunts and shifts his hips back. His tip swerves around your face as he tries to find your mouth without unlatching his jaw from your sex. You help out with the last bit of sanity you have, and once you wrap your lips around him, his hips snap hard onto you.

All you can feel is Miguel entering you from top to bottom, his hands keeping you stationed in your position. There’s no room to do anything as he’s devouring you and taking your breath away at the same time. Two of his fingers sink into you, and you jerk from the difference between his skin and his tongue.

Miguel nibbles at the hood of your clit, urging you to be still. Whenever his fingers leave you, his pelvis fills your senses. Your throat gags around him, spit building to keep up with his thrusts.

“So good,” he hums. His pace picks up and the tears in your eyes fall to the floor. “Made for me. Only me.”

Your fingers wrap around his thighs and squeeze tight, your vision fading as you try to take in pockets of air. The shake in your legs and the broken moans that escaped your lips only ignited him.

“Bebé,” his hips stutter. He’s sloppy as he drools over the entrance, voice loud. “Bebé, you’re so, ngh.”

He cums down your throat, balls twitching against your face. You close your eyes and try to swallow everything, jaw aching. Miguel groans your name as he slides his dick out to the tip, a few spurts still landing on your lips. You cough, position making everything go north.

The taste of him was delicious, but you needed more of him elsewhere. Your mouth was as drenched as your cunt and yet you still felt empty.

When Miguel flips you back upright, you’re ready to pounce on him again. The state of you both is alarming. Your breasts have completely fallen out of your dress, that black thing barely holding on by its zipper. Miguel’s suit is phasing in and out in the most obscene places. There’s slick up to his eyebrows and his cum is all over your cheeks.

He grabs your jaw and runs his tongue over your face, cleaning up his mess. You let him live in his own bubble before that burning in your core came back.

Your nails dig into his shoulders and your whispers of “more” come to light. You’re clawing at him like a cat begging him to do something, anything, to make this feeling go away.

“Miguel,” you gasp as he sinks his teeth into your skin. “Miguel, it hurts. Fix it, Miggy, please.”

You guide his hands down your body and place them on your ass. His touch sates you for only a moment, but your body reacts as if he needs to be deep in your bones. He spreads your ass and groans as the sound of how eager you are for him follows.

“You’re not ready,” are the words that make you even more frustrated. Your hands pushing and pulling at him, ready to try and put him where you want him to go.

He clicks his teeth and flexes his wrists. His webs tie your wrists together, neon red strings leaving a buzz on your skin. He yanks your dress off and you stumble with the motions.

The clinical room doesn’t aid the building heat you feel, but Miguel turning you around and pressing you into the wall as he cuts the rest of your panties off does.

He squats and grabs two hands full of you.

He spits onto your hole, mesmerized as he watches it slide to your entrance. “Qué hermosa,” he whispers.

You bend, whimpering as your folds cover his nose, clenching and grinding.

“God,” you sigh. Something this small was going to bring you to the edge so quickly. “D-don’t stop.”

“Greedy,” Miguel says as if he’s not moving the fat of your ass to nudge his face into you. The arch in your back deepens as he continues and your whines get higher.

He smacks your right cheek, sound echoing off the metal tables, and you shout his name as you coat his tongue.

Tranquility clears your mind for a second, one where the flowery scent in the air is less strong.

The peace leaves just as fast as it came when Miguel gets rid of his suit and stands behind you in all of his glory.

His eyes followed from your dewey face to the curve of your hips to bitten thighs to feet with one heel still on.

“He didn’t deserve to see this,” he says.

“W-what?”

Miguel ignores you and pulls your wrists up straight, a confused noise leaving you. He wraps another web around your ankles and huffs. He sets your arms under your chest, your hands in front of you like a prayer.

When he picks you up by your waist, his dick lines up with your ass.

He groans as he grinds, watching himself disappear and reappear.

You try to move with him, “No, not there. Inside.”

“You’re always so distracting,” he growls. He slides his length between your thick thighs and you nearly scream as his hips hit your ass, his tip just barely passing over your clit. “Can never think straight when I see you.”

He rubbed over the bite he left on your shoulder, “So pretty. My pretty baby.”

His low voice right in your ears only made you wetter. He was holding you like you were his toy, fucking the inside of your thighs with ease.

Miguel could cry watching your ass bounce on his stomach. Your legs were soft and warm and he just couldn’t stop.

“Want you so bad. Need to fuck you again and again and again,” he said as your thighs quivered around him.

“Please, Miguel. Make me yours,” your voice crowded the sound of his grunts as he held you up and pounded away.

Those were the magic words to get him to lean back with a firm grip on you and release all over the wall. It was everywhere, from your legs to the wall to the ceiling.

He set you to the floor with shaky arms, and you started to sob.

All of this and you still wanted more. If this was making you feel this insane, you can only imagine the small relief Miguel was feeling after being exposed for longer.

“C’mere,” he pulls you to the bare floor and cuts the webs. You immediately try to climb him, legs wrapping around his waist.

He was painfully hard for someone who came twice now.

Your cries of “inside” slur together, tears running down your face. Miguel was no better, fangs dripping with venom and the hairs on skin raised.

The two of you tussle as Miguel tries to keep your hips to stay stationary. You kept jerking in order to get some sort of friction but he was baring his teeth to get you to quit.

You dip your nails into his shoulders and arms while he drags a talon down your sternum to snap your bra off.

A clatter of your stiletto sounds off across the room as he pinches your thigh, “Easy, beautiful. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

“Fucking hurry,” you whine.

He shushes as he plunges inside of you, the noise you both make as loud as a choir.

Your eyes roll back as Miguel presses, bending your body in half.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Miguel leans to whisper onto your lips.

Tight is the first thing that comes to mind and heat is the next.

He moves his hips up and slams back down, your ass shifting from the pressure.

“Miguel!”

“That’s it. Talk to me.” All of that chatter earlier and now you can barely get out a word.

“H-harder,” your hands don’t know where to go. They’re grabbing Miguel, they’re falling next to your head, they’re grabbing at your breasts as Miguel jerks your body.

Miguel goes to open your jaw, lips pulling on your tongue to suck. It’s tender and sensual compared to the way his balls are slapping against you. There’s a ring of white on his shaft getting thicker and thicker as he continues.

“Pretty thing,” he says as he lets your tongue go, a string of saliva falling to your neck. “Watched you on the cameras. Always.”

That stirs something in you, a spark in your chest as you see stars.

“Did you want to do this to me when you watched me?” you manage out.

“Yes.”

“I can put on a show for you next time.”

“Yes.”

“You can come in here. ‘N fuck me over the counter.”

“Sí, sí, baby,” his hands push your knees next to your head and he ruts against you. His thighs were straining as he took and took.

A yell pulls itself from your core, that burning feeling getting a crash of cold water. The dam bursts and you’re running all over Miguel, essence leaving every time he inches out and back in.

“Gonna fill you up,” he rasps, eyes glazed over.

You nod your head, clenching and pulsing around him.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he shudders against you. You suck him in, gaining a deep moan from him, “Así, bebé. Take it.”

It’s like you can finally think as his cum overflows, your heart rate finally slowing.

He stares at you as you both come back to reality. Your body is limp, the weight of Miguel making itself known.

“Holy shit,” you wiggle and he catches the hint. He lifts a bit and pulls out. The swirl of you two falls out of you in waves. “What. The fuck.”

“God,” Miguel mumbles. “No shocking way we just did that.”

“You can’t say that when the evidence is leaking out of me.”

Miguel groans as he watches you, your face pouty and your hole glistening. It was intoxicating.

His dick twitches, coming to life again the longer he watches.

“‘M sorry in advance,” he says as he pulls you into his lap.

“Just take care of it, O’Hara.”

The two of you sat in the middle of the floor, breathing hard. Pieces of consciousness were starting to come back.

“You looked stunning tonight,” Miguel said. He looked at your shredded dress on the floor. “I’m glad he won’t see you in that dress anymore.”

The snort that leaves your nose turns into a full-blown laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“You just took my soul ten times over and you’re worried about a guy I just met less than a week ago. I fear I’m ruined for anyone else.”

“Oh,” he smiles. “Good.”

“You still should take me on a date. You’ve got a lot to explain.”

Flashes of him confessing to his habit of watching you from afar come back, “O-of course.”

“And you owe me a new dress.”

“On it.”

Lyla pops up next to you both, a blindfold over her shades, “Is it safe to talk to you guys now?”

Miguel checks his gizmo, “I think we’re good for about forty minutes. The effects are starting to wear off.”

“Excellent!” She throws the fabric to the side, “Oh my god, this room is a mess.”

You look at the array of substances over the room and grimace. The entire hall will have to be on lockdown.

“Well, I managed to vent out the solution. You two should be ok soon.”

You lean on Miguel’s chest and close your eyes, happy to hear good news.

“Kind of sad that this is what it took for you to confess, Miguel,” she comments.

“Lyla!”

You laugh again, “Some confession.”

“That’s enough,” Miguel scowls.

Your giggles die down as you pull yourself onto Miguel’s thigh, bubbles in your chest molding into moans as you start to grind over his thigh.

“I’m starting to think you guys are just bluffing,” Lyla gags before she disappears. “Let me know when you’re done.”

“I think,” you nuzzle into his neck, “this’ll be the last time. I’m tired.”

“If not, we can take it to my house.”

The world blurs again as you and Miguel connect under the white lights.

Take a shot every time I say breath or breathe 😭. Anywho, as always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT!

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

Could you Possibly do a Red and Green Flags or a NSFW analysis for Mingyu of SVT, Whichever you’d rather do if possible, Thank you

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐮 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬 𝟏𝟖+ (𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐅𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝)

Word Count: 2.5 K (circa)

Disclaimer: This analysis is for entertainment purposes only and should NOT be taken seriously or in a professional manner.

Methodology: Traditional astrology and Whole sign house analysis.

Placements:

Aries Sun (11th House)

Pisces Moon (10th House)

Gemini Rising (Mercury Ruled)

Taurus Mercury (12th House)

Aries Venus (11th House)

Virgo Mars (Retrograde 4th House)

Fuckboi Rating: 4/10

Mingyu's Aries stellium indicates he THINKS he can have sex w/o feelings and be okay with it but his Pisces Moon betrays him every time and this leads to things being MESSY!!!

His 12th House Mercury can inhibit his communication style and therefore he might be the type to keep avoiding the issue and procrastinating speaking about his feelings until he's too far into the connection.

So, his energy is not giving me fuckboi but definitely the type to pursue fwb's/situationships and then it goes horrifically wrong.

Red & Green Flags:

Red:

The 12th House Mercury is going to be a nightmare to work with as a partner because you know that scene in The Notebook where Noah is like 'what do you want? WANT DO YOU WANT?'

That's what it's going to be like with Mingyu- an indecisive mofo who cannot reveal his feelings until he's practically pushed into a corner and you're having to force it out of him.

Definitely embodies the 'one that got away' trope as he confesses his feelings when it's too late because he's too busy overthinking in his head.

An emotionally sensitive teddy bear who gets upset and dramatic over any minor issue (which is cute in my mind but I need help...).

Green:

I'm an Aries and I'm constantly defending Aries placements because we get such SHIT but he has an Aries Sun conjunct Venus which is a beautiful placement imo because his whole desire as a partner is for you to love yourself as much as he loves you.

Being in a relationship with him would be an especially healing one because he would encourage you to heal and nurture yourself with him as a supportive partner.

His Pisces Moon encourages him to be super empathetic and even have psychic abilities as a partner and he has high intuition- he would probably know what got you upset before you do.

Service oriented and a provider, I'll include this with every person who's a Virgo Mars but they truly enjoy pleasing their partner because that's what helps them feel fulfilled as a boyfriend.

Ideal Type...If He's Into Women:

Physical Traits:

Venus in Aries is interesting because they don't tend to have a specific 'physical' type but more so are drawn to energy/vibes so his type physically is all over the place.

This man is so wattpad coded omg it makes me cringe so hard but I've noticed men with an Aries Venus are attracted to girls who can rock the baggy clothing/messy bun duo- particularly with his known love for his height omg if you look hot with his clothes on!!! He'll have his hands all over you all the time.

The 4th House Mars indicates he would love a woman on the 'curvier' side and is a total peaches man for sure.

Honestly, if I'm to be blatant, I feel like Mingyu would love a short, curvy, plus-size, voluptuous whatever term you desire partner that can wear his clothes and be constantly excited whenever you see him.

The ultimate golden retriever x sunshine gf energy.

Personality Traits:

Aries Venus= humour and mischief! He wants a partner who's spontaneous, loud and sociable. The type to not take things too seriously.

Honestly, with that 5th house in Libra- he really would be attracted to the manic pixie energy type and be interested in someone who's 'quirky' and 'not like the other girls'.

The easiest way I can describe this energy is think of 2010-2018 Tumblr energy when John Green novels were at their peak in fame, the whimsical, adventurous, free-spirited type (I love and hate it at the same time).

Domestic, homely and orderly- he doesn't need a partner who's a neat freak but can clean up after themselves and doesn't need to be told or reminded constantly to do so.

Dom, Sub or Switch:

His Pisces Moon and Virgo Mars gives him a lot of flexibility with power dynamics and makes him a strong switch with dominant preference.

Mingyu is a gentle giant but he is a GIANT however and needs to feel like he is one to feel satisfied in his manhood, he doesn't care if you're the more decisive partner as long as he decides how to pleasure you in the bedroom.

He is an Aries stellium after all and the heavy Mars energy signifies he has a high drive and does still need to prove himself and show off just how hard he can have you trembling underneath him.

As a dominant, he's definitely more a pleasure-oriented soft dominant, he does love a challenge and to be teased but he's a service dom through and through.

Kinks...Just A Few Of Them:

Breeding/Pregnancy:

The 4th House is ruled by Cancer and represents domesticity and home life and I'm sure he's mentioned wanting children in the future because oh my lawdd- this is how he enjoys staking his claim.

He wants to see you full and swollen with his child, he wants to pump you full with his cum and see if it sticks because that's his way of gently claiming you and reminding you that you're his.

'My god you're a glowing sweetheart, you look so beautiful filled with me, I just want to lay you down and give you another baby'.

Nipple Play/Lactation/Anything Boobies

The 4th House influence means Mingyu is a peach and cherries man which does go hand in hand with his breeding/pregnancy kink because anything with your tatas would drive him crazy.

So yeah, I do think he would prefer someone with a big bosom that he can bury his face and leave little marks and kisses all over your chest.

If you were pregnant or breastfeeding, I'm sure he'd love to clean your milk off with his tongue and I think if he were to enter into a submissive state, he would be the type to just fall asleep and feel completely ease with your nipple in his mouth.

'You're so soft and you smell so nice, just let me keep my face here for awhile mmmh?? I'll be good, this is my comfort zone'.

Taglist: @scuzmunkie @marievllr-abg @umbralhelwolf @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @mrcarrots @junieshohoho @gyuhanniescarat @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @hologramhoneymoon @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @berryberrytan @laylasbunbunny @bangchanbabygirlx @i-love-ateez @anyamaris @krishastumblernow @hexheathen @michel-angelhoe @northerngalxy @justaaveragereader @ja3hwa @silentreaderthings @daddysspecialdollyworld @abby-grace @wisejudgedragonhairdo @smilefordongil @writhingwrecked @hongthoven

[theambitiouswoman]

I have been celibate for 3+ years & I wanted to share how this has helped shaped who I am.

Disclaimer: This is not me telling you what to do with your life and your bodies. It comes with zero judgement. I am of the belief that there is a season for everything, and we evolve into many different people in our life. I would be remiss if I didn't say that I definitely think it's a good idea to practice it. I do believe that psychologically, spiritually & emotionally having casual sex has a lot of negative implications for both men and women. However your beliefs around intimacy are purely up to you. Sex isn't bad, that's not what I am saying, but when you are having sex with someone you are absorbing their energy, and the energy of their past lovers too, so having sex with the wrong person can really ruin you.

Honestly the idea of anyone touching me if they do not meet my needs emotionally, mentally, physically etc absolutely disgusts me. I have never been of the type of let anyone "have me" but even more so now. Remember that when you start treating yourself differently, your perspectives and the things you are attracted to also start to change.

Maybe some girls don't understand this so I am going to say it. You do not have to sleep with a man for him to like you, love you, treat you well, or buy you things. If you haven't experienced this, you may not agree. But this is my reality and the reality of so many others, so yes it is actually totally possible.

I will say that the first year can be difficult but after that it gets much easier cause your mindset changes. I recommend taking that first year to really dive in and analyze your relationships, work on your wounds etc. Feeling lonely is something I see come up a lot, and while human beings are not designed to be alone, you should not feel lonely and that is probably a good starting point to work on with yourself if that is the case.

Anyway, these are some of the changes I have experienced:

1. Greater mental clarity and can focus more on personal goals, career & self development.

2. Reduced emotional turbulence. Creating better emotional balance and inner peace.

3. Realizing self love and self worth come from you, rather than seeking external validation. It reduces stress, increases self awareness & provides identity outside of others.

4. Higher standards, better boundaries. Intimacy is a choice, not a necessity. Being unable to control your lust is a weakness. Understand that falling in love purely through sex is lust, wounds and attachment / abandonment issues, need for validation, insecurity etc.

5. Insane increase to intuition.

6. Gives you control over your body and life. It allows you to be more selective about who you let into their personal space.

7. Increased creativity & passion to channel into art, projects, or other personal endeavors.

8. For those recovering from past trauma or heartbreak, celibacy can be a time for healing and self reflection. It offers the space to process emotions, heal old wounds and rediscover yourself.

9. No energetic enmeshments with toxic souls, which btw you are absorbing all of it. Grosses me out any time I think about it.

10. Even prettier than before (but i'm sure not entertaining toxic men and drama contributes to that as well)

11. People are even more drawn to be because of my strong sexual energy & pure aura.

[mywitchyblog]

Message to @alphaltrainreflection

First of all, bitch, where did I ever say anything about "eroticizing inferiority"? Like, be fucking for real. Show me the receipts. Because unless you’re reading between lines that don’t exist, nothing in my post said anything about power dynamics, submission, or “inferiority.” It sounds like you’re projecting some judgmental bullshit that I didn’t even invite into the conversation. So let’s start there—check yourself before you come into my space twisting my words to fit your weird little agenda.

Second of all, and I mean this with every ounce of sincerity, shut the fuck up. Genuinely, if you don’t like what you see, don’t interact. It’s that simple. Not everyone has to match your narrow idea of what shifting is “supposed” to be. Shifting isn’t some gated community where you get to play security guard and decide who’s allowed in. So do us all a favor, take that rigid-ass energy, and keep it to yourself, bitch.

Let’s be real for a second. You said, “sex freaks who insist on eroticizing inferiority are ruining shifting.” Bitch, nobody’s ruining anything—especially not me. All I said was that I want to get fucked. Plain and simple. If my desire to shift for a good time offends you, you’re free to move along. Shifting means different things to different people, and if sex is part of that, it’s totally valid. If I want to shift to a reality for some damn good dick, who the fuck are you to get all sanctimonious about it? Newsflash: your opinion on what’s “appropriate” doesn’t apply here, darling.

And let’s get one thing fucking clear, because clearly, you need this spelled out: even if someone did want to shift to a reality where they take on a more passive, submissive role, what of it? Why the fuck does that bother you so much? Some people spend their whole lives having to be strong, holding shit together, constantly defending themselves, and staying in control just to survive. Maybe, just maybe, they want to create a reality where they can finally let go, surrender, and trust someone who respects them and won’t take advantage of them. Imagine that—feeling safe enough to let down your guard and explore a side of yourself you don’t get to express in this life. For some people, that’s healing. For others, it’s fun. Either way, it’s their choice, not yours. So back the fuck off.

So let’s talk about this “ruining shifting” nonsense you pulled out of nowhere. Bitch, the only thing “ruining” anything is people like you, stomping into conversations uninvited and acting like you’re the gatekeeper of how others should experience their desires. You’re clinging to this imaginary rulebook about what’s “appropriate” for shifting as if that makes you morally superior, but all it does is make you look insecure, judgmental, and way too invested in other people’s business. Spoiler alert: nobody gives a fuck about your approval or needs it to validate their experience.

Here’s the truth, since you seem to need a wake-up call: shifting is deeply personal. It’s about self-determination and freedom, not conforming to some rigid-ass code of conduct set by random bitches on the internet. If someone wants to shift for spiritual growth, self-discovery, sexual exploration, or all of the above, that’s their fucking prerogative. Shaming them because it doesn’t align with your limited, vanilla-ass view of what’s “appropriate” is straight-up pathetic.

And by the way, bitch, sex is a natural, beautiful, and completely valid part of life. If I want to shift for sex, or if someone else wants to shift to feel cherished, adored, or, yes, even submissive, that’s nobody’s fucking business but ours. Maybe instead of trying to drag others down to your level of insecurity, you could take a hard look in the mirror and figure out why other people’s sexual autonomy bothers you so damn much. Because this isn’t about “ruining shifting”; it’s about you being uncomfortable with the idea of someone enjoying themselves in a way that’s different from what you deem acceptable. Maybe some self-reflection would do you some good.

To every other shifter out there who’s ever been made to feel guilty or “lesser” for shifting for your own reasons, listen up: you don’t owe anyone an explanation, and you don’t need anyone’s approval. Your DR, your fucking rules. If shifting for you is about finding love, intimacy, exploration, or yes, even some good dick, that’s your choice. Don’t let some insecure bitch shame you or make you feel like you’re somehow ruining the experience just because it doesn’t fit into their narrow little box. Shifting is about creating the life and reality you want to live—whatever the fuck that looks like for you.

So, here’s a suggestion: take your unsolicited, holier-than-thou attitude and keep it to yourself. If you can’t handle seeing people talk openly about their desires and goals for shifting, then bitch, scroll past and save yourself the outrage. Because at the end of the day, I’m not here to please you, and neither is anyone else. We’re here to live our best lives, however we see fit, and if that’s too much for you, the door’s right over there.

To everyone who’s out here shifting for what they want, keep going. Own your desires, own your reality, and don’t let anyone’s outdated judgment make you feel like you’re doing it wrong. Shifting is your journey, and if that includes exploring intimacy, vulnerability, or sexuality, you’re not alone. You’re valid, and your experience is just as real and important as anyone else’s.

Consider this your reminder that no one’s begging for your approval. I’ll be over here, unbothered, shifting for exactly what I want, and loving every fucking second of it. ✨