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paganwitchisis · 7 months ago

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The Price of Freedom Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Revelations and Comfort

Rated E for EXPLICIT!!

Word count: 3,670

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Abuse, torture, smut, oral sex, rape, healing, beatings, dismemberment, breeding kink, act 3 spoilers, canon divergence, blood, violence, graphic depictions (It is Cazador after all)

Chapter one - here

Chapter two - here

You're on chapter three

Chapter 4 - here

AO3 link here

RATED 18 PLUS!!! This chapter has a little adult content (oral and masturbation)

As promised, the last chapter was short so here is the next chapter so soon.

But there was no way! He was dead, so creating life was surely off the table…wasn’t it? Does that mean his pregnant lover almost died? It was already bad he almost lost the most important person to him but now couple this with the fact that she may be carrying his child?

“It is definitely a Dhampir. That much is certain, but she will need to be watched closely. These pregnancies can be fatal for the mother. Often, Dhampirs feed on their mother’s blood if she doesn’t start consuming some. The fact she hasn’t had anything abnormal happen yet is a miracle in itself.” Shadowheart muttered to Karlach as they continued to loot the gold and chest before them behind the throne.

“So, Fangs is virile, and soldier needs to drink blood? What the fu…Oh! Hey, Fangs!” Karlach finally acknowledged Astarion who stood behind them and was in a state of shock. The more he heard, the more he worried. His offspring could kill his lover? The woman he cared deeply about? Additionally, she may have to drink blood to keep up with the child?

But how did Astarion even feel about children?

In general he knew his concerns, but with Tav? Did those same concerns still apply? He has a chance at having a family. This was something Cazador had stripped him of ever having, or so he thought. This was so fast. How far along was she? Is she healthy aside from the battle wounds? When did they conceive? How long can she safely fight before she couldn’t? They still had so much to do, and the Absolute would not wait until a babe was born. There was so many questions and not enough answers.

“Astarion, take a seat.“ Shadowheart took charge as she could see his obvious turmoil crossing his mind. Astarion listened, if for nothing else, then to get some answers.

“How far along?” Astarion asked before anything could be said.

“From what I can tell? About 10 weeks. Now keep in mind, I’m not as experienced with this sort of thing. You’re better off talking to Halsin or Jaheira, but I do know the basics on what is going on.” Shadowheart answered.

“10…10 weeks? Are you sure? That was…we…I mean we did it plenty but…that was right before I spoke to her about…” Astarion’s mind was racing. The math added up. It was the last time they had sex, the last time they were intimate before Moonrise and his confession to her about his intentions. She fell pregnant from a lie...from his game. Astarion felt like he would be sick.

“Look, you need to be strong, Fangs. She is going to need you. She doesn’t know.” Karlach cheered him on and Shadowheart continued to speak.

“The babe was conceived because you were well fed on humanoid blood. As much as I was healing Tav in the cursed lands, I can believe you got your fill from her. She was always bloodless. Especially after you two began sharing a tent. She will need to consume blood for the babe. This is only temporary. Once she gives birth, that will go away, but there is a lot of risk with this pregnancy. It is very difficult to conceive a Dhampir. I mean, the odds are astronomical. A woman who can do it is very rare. No one can know she has your child Astarion. If they did, well…I must reiterate what I said before. It is almost impossible for a living woman to have undead children and any woman who can do that is worth quite a bit to the wrong people.

Astarion kept thinking about one of those wrong people.

Cazador.

Astarion snarled.

“She is mine! I won’t let anyone take her from me.” Astarion growled out and Karlach squealed about how cute his commitment was. Shadowheart just rolled her eyes.

Astarion knew he had a bit to consider and grabbed the water he had before and went to the other side of the room. Tav, he noted, was asleep but breathing normally. He cleaned himself up and changed out of his armor while thinking over what had happened. Did he want to be a father? This child could kill her, but the odds made it sound like the chances of having another were almost nil if they changed their minds later on. Then there was the most pressing one – Cazador. Astarion knew that Dhampirs are considered the worst among the dregs of vampire society but they had the best of both worlds. Little to no cons and yet they had vampiric abilities. They could walk in the sun without searching for a damned ring, even.

“Hey, Fangs!” Astarion was jolted from his thoughts when Karlach called out to him after he finished up. “What did he mean about the limiter? About what the vampire creep said about what the slime bucket did. You know, the fucker we’re gonna kill?”

Astarion couldn’t help the smile on his face at the nickname Karlach gave Cazador and grinned before answering Karlach “Aside from our… little wriggling friends, my powers are hampered by Cazador. When he sired me, he put something magical in place to limit my abilities. Starve me on top of that, and it makes sense I can’t access the abilities I am supposed to have. I know I should be able to walk on the ceiling if I wished. That was one, but as you can see, I’m just me.” Astarion answered bluntly. “He did that to all of the spawn.”

“What a prick!” Karlach exclaimed.

Astarion grabbed two more potions from his pack and his bedroll. He laid it down next to his lover and snuck in under her covers. He moved to hold her and she immediately snuggled into his arms. Astarion’s heart melted and he couldn’t help but smile to see her relax into his arms. Astarion tilted her head up and kissed her a few times to wake her up. When she was reorienting herself with the world, Astarion kept going. He kissed her nose, cheek and jaw. He kissed her neck and was extremely gentle on the wound. Tav was about to moan when Astarion swallowed it in a kiss.

“Not here, love. I need to talk to you, but once you’re healed, know that is definitely on my mind.”

Tav looked at him and was confused.

“But what you said. You said you…” Astarion kissed her hard to quite her as she began to point out what he himself had mentioned. Astarion leaned forward and whispered in Tav’s ear, tickling the sensitive tissue.

“There was a new development, my sweet, and now I can’t think of anything but having you over and over again. I….I think I am ready for this. Not now, not here. Back at the tavern.”

“If you don’t want to, or…”

“I know, my sweet. I know I can say no with you. Now, we have something rather important to discuss.”Astarion shifted to hold Tav in his arms completely and allow her to lay on his chest, an offer she took immediately. Tav wrapped her arms around his lithe waist and felt at home in his arms.

“When was your last monthly, my sweet?” Astarion asked the leading question, hoping she would get to the same conclusion sooner than it took him to realize something was off. Astarion was looking forward to her time of bleeding for obvious reasons, but yet even he missed it. Astarion chalked it up to the stress of the shadow cursed lands and battling the chosen of the dead three, but admittedly, he never thought to question even when they shared a tent why she never bled.

“I think it was around the time we were at the Creche…No…that can’t be right. I think it was before then…I was spotting during the Creche but I didn’t have my monthly then. Usually that means I was going to have it soon. I remember you were…Um…eager for when that would happen.” Tav answered honestly.

“It tastes like fine wine would soak your cunt every month, so yes. I very much would look forward to getting drunk on it. Add to that, how deliciously sweet and intoxicating you naturally taste, and, my dear, you’re lucky my head isn’t between your thighs daily.” Astarion whispered in her ear for her to hear only. Tav grunted and dropped her head onto his chest, willing the ground to swallow her whole. Shadowheart was doing her best to ignore the two while Karlach was sorting her pack not far from them.

“And I must say, dear, when you get aroused, you never fail to make me hard.” Astarion sent this sentence through the tadpole as he very gently adjusted his hips so she could feel the hardness between his legs. “Now, it has been a bit since your last cycle, hasn’t it? Why do you think that is?” This comment Astarion said out loud, but in a low whisper. He didn’t want her in denial. Not with the decisions they had to make.

“Stress?”

Astarion chuckled and shook his head. Testing a theory, he brought his hand up and squeezed her breast lightly. Tav recoiled with a yelp.

“They’re tender. This battle…”

“And couple that with your morning sickness?” Astarion was getting a little frustrated and decided to start spelling it out at this point if she was so firmly set to not believe the signs. It took a moment, but then Tav’s eyes widened and she propped herself on her elbows on his chest so she could look at him better.

“You aren’t saying….I couldn’t be. Can I? I mean, you’re…” Tav sputtered. Astarion kissed her lovingly to quell her racing thoughts. She was still badly injured and if his perception of her racing heart was any indication, she needed to calm down. Astarion wrapped his arms around her upper body and kissed her until she was nearly breathless. Astarion pulled back and rested his forehead on hers.

“You’re carrying my child, my love. You’re still pretty injured, and we can’t let you get worked up though, but I do want to talk to you about this because no one can know except our companions, potentially. No one else, if I’m going to protect you from Cazador, or any vampire, for that matter. If word got out of a mortal woman who could bear undead children…I believe Shadowheart’s words were that you would be ‘worth quite a bit to the wrong people’. Apparently, the odds are not in our favor to have children, but if I am fed well on humanoid blood and you’re fertile in the right way… We can have children, Tav. Now, there is still a lot of unknowns, like how this will play out with the Absolute and the damn brain, but Shadowheart was clear you will need to consume blood to nourish the little one…assuming that…Well…” Astarion looked away, not able to say the words and finish the sentence, but Tav picked up on his intention right away.

“I thought you didn’t want or like kids? I mean, with how you talk about the kids who end up in our camp…” Tav was trying to wrap her head around everything, but she sorely needed his input. How did Astarion feel about children? It was a conversation they never had because they thought he couldn’t, but now that it was an option…

Astarion kissed her forehead, now realizing how touch-starved he truly was. He couldn't stop touching her skin, kissing her and wanting to snuggle up with this woman.

“I will admit that in the beginning, I reacted…poorly. I’m sure you can understand why. If children felt comfortable around me, they were in danger, and I’ve seen Cazador do things to children as much as adults. It wasn’t that I hated them….I just didn’t want them to be another victim. Being around you and your love however,” Astarion kissed Tav briefly. “I learned otherwise. I’m sure you saw me with the urchins. Mol’s gang of kids trying their scams and sleight of hand tricks, or even the hag we had to dispatch to save the little girl from. Have I been acting like you would assume someone who has issues with kids would behave?”

“I will admit, when you insisted we deal with the hag so soon and wait on Cazador one more day, I was surprised.”

“I have my own complications, but even I knew to go after the hag and save a child, and ignore my own safety from Cazador. Who knew how long that little girl had left?” Astarion slipped his hand under Tav’s shirt and drifted his fingers up and down her spine. “But to answer your question, I don’t have an issue with kids, exactly. Did I want to be a father? At first, I would have said no, but after thinking it through…Tav, I want a family with you, and only you. I want the world to see your belly swell with my child, and although I know how dangerous that is, I want the world to know you’re off limits. That you are mine, and I am yours.”

“I am yours, though.” Tav said as she kissed his jaw.

“Don't. If you keep kissing me, I’ll make love to you here. This child was conceived through a lie, when I wasn’t even present. It won’t happen again. I’m going to keep filling you and filling you…and gods below if you get more aroused…You smell like food, and I’m starving. I will taste you with them here, so let’s settle down. You’re too injured for this, and we have an audience.” Astarion said quickly through the tadpole connection they had.

Tav smiled and replied to him about his original question.

“To answer your worry from earlier, I don’t plan to abort. I…I was forced to years before meeting you and it was a pain and baggage that I can’t compare. To know that you wanted to be a mother but instead of protecting the life, you snuffed it out. I wasn’t okay for a while after that, but to be honest, I fell pregnant not of my own consent either. Gods….this was maybe twenty years ago? It still bothers me, sometimes. I do like the idea of being a mother. Do I think I deserve it after going through the choice all those years ago? That is complicated, but I won’t make the same mistake again. For one, the circumstances are different. I’m not in an abusive situation. I wasn’t forced into it. You’re everything to me. Assuming you want me to be the mother to your child. I know there is a stigma on…” Astarion kissed her again and shifted to the side so he was laying to the side of her. He dared not move on top or else he would lose all semblance of control.

“I don’t care about a stigma. You had an impossible choice and some may say what you did was a mercy compared to having a child in that situation. You know how much I care for you, and if you would, I’d be honored for you to be the mother to all of my children” Astarion whispered back, his hands wandering as well as his mouth. Astarion couldn’t help it. He almost lost her…lost them both today, and she was giving such a sweet and succulent scent with her arousal.

“All? How many do you plan on having, Astarion?” Tav giggled.

“Me? None, but you? You only have to say the word and I’ll fill you with one. I don’t care how big an army we make, darling, my come belongs to you. I’m all yours. Completely.” Astarion kept going back and forth between using the tadpole and whispering. He wished for this conversation to remain private, but he could see Shadowheart’s look of disgust. Astarion began kissing her collarbone and avoided the sweet location where he would drink from her. ‘She was still healing’, he would have to remind himself. He couldn’t drink. Not yet. He was tempted to see what the difference in her blood would taste like. Gods, he had been tasting it and never knew! He had no idea to compare!

“Karlach, do you mind walking with me back to the front so I can pee? While I am at it, I can puke from these two being all over each other, when I must remind you, Astarion, she can’t have sex. She almost died. She needs rest.” Shadowheart directed the order of chastity to the vampire and looked back sweetly to the tiefling. “I don’t want to find a trap our distracted friend may have forgotten to deactivate.” Shadowheart rationalized.

Karlach just laughed and went to escort her out. They grabbed weapons and armor to leave in case of any issues should arise. Shadowheart left first. Karlach went to leave, closed the door before her, and said to Astarion; “I can give you twenty minutes, but she better stay healthy, Fangs, when we get back.” before disappearing to follow her friend. Astarion smiled and took his lovers’ lips appropriately. Without waiting, Astarion quickly undid the laces of Tav’s trousers and shoved them down with her underwear.

“We gotta be fast and quiet, darling. Just lay back and relax. Enjoy.” Astarion looked almost feral with his lust and desire. Licking his lips, Astarion dove under the blankets and Tav felt her labia part from his cool fingers. She felt his mouth and tongue work her clit at the same time as he sank two delicious fingers inside of her cleft and soon joined by a third finger. Tav had to bite the blankets to keep from crying out in pleasure. Astarion curled his fingers and went to work at a punishing pace. He sucked and licked with the flat of his tongue in alternating pressures. He knew exactly how to drive her crazy, but Astarion also wanted to give her a rapture with as little stress on the body as possible.

“That’s my good girl. Come for me. Feel good. The mother of my child deserves the fucking world.” Astarion went back down to devour her nerve cluster as if he was a man starved. Within minutes, Tav was crying out, her muscles contracting as Astarion helped her ride out her orgasm. When she was becoming overly sensitive, Astarion came back up and out from under the covers completely, licking his fingers and moaning how tasty she was. Astarion laid on his back and loosened his trousers after helping Tav get presentable. He snuck his hand under his underwear and began to jerk himself off without abandon. Astarion threw his head back and rut his hips into his hand. He was close, and he knew he was running out of time.

“T….touch me.” Astarion pleaded. “I need to come. Please, anywhere, just touch me, and not with your mouth, you minx. You’re still healing.” Tav smiled and brought her hand over. She cupped his balls and began lightly massaging them as Astarion’s hips grew more wild. He hissed in pleasure and took her hand away in time for him to spill his load inside his light blue underwear. Astarion moaned lowly, turned his head and kissed his lover as he finished emptying his seed. Astarion tied up his trousers in case they would be caught. He didn’t have time to clean himself up.

That was, until Tav pointed to her bag and he found a prestidigitation scroll inside. Thanking her with another quick kiss, Astarion used the scroll and snuggled up to Tav in time for Karlach to loudly talk on the way back, therefore announcing their presence. The door opened to Shadowheart glaring at the red woman.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you were doing, Karlach! You were warning them we were coming back! I swear, if she is sicker….”

“I would never hurt her!“ Astarion growled.

“Relax, Fangs. Everything is good. Also, Tav! Look what we found!” Karlach excitedly said and handed Tav a plain banded ring that had and insignia of a sun on it. It was black but thrummed with magic. Astarion sat up and helped his lover to do the same. She held it in her hand and kissed Astarion before sliding it on his finger.

“You know, my love, You keep treating me so well, I won’t know how to repay you.”

Tav merely kissed him before replying. “You don’t have to repay, love. I love you, Astarion Ancunin. You’re stuck with me.” Tav then chuckled to herself. “Especially with the baby. Unless you ever push us away, you have a family and you're loved.” Tav looped her arms around the vampire’s neck.

“Gods below, how the hell did I deserve you? How many times have you saved me now?”

Tav just laughed.

“Need I remind you that you kept me alive until Shadowheart could fix me? That you literally saved my life a few hours ago?

Astarion just smiled sadly as he recalled her life force squirting behind his hands. He remembered the panic and fear and kissed Tav back while Karlach found this as a romantic turn of events, and Shadowheart was already back in her bed, strangely facing away from them and now further away.

Karlach left the two alone while Astarion looked at the ring in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” Tav asked a very obviously worried Astarion.

“This ring. If it could help a vampire walk in the sun, you would think that after 200 years, Cazador would seek it out, and yet it is not in his grasp? It was so close to him, too…I find that hard to believe.”

Note: Chapters will be posted every weekend

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dangerousnbeautiful · 2 years ago

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Finish What You Started

Pairing : Steve Harrington x Samantha Mayfield

Summary : Sam and Steve make dinner together, and after dinner Steve washes the dishes while thinking about a night that he gave into his desires for Sam. What happens when Sam notices that Steve is getting turned on and she teases him about it?

Warnings : Daddy Kink, Sexual Threatening, Degradation, Forceful Oral (M), Masturbation (F), Oral (F), Unprotected Sex (Wrap It Before You Tap It Guys), and Slight Breeding Kink.

“You and food.” Sam shook her head. “Has anyone ever come between you two?” she joked. “Because I can see you marrying a pizza, but nothing else long term.” Nancy came to mind, and he shut the thought down fast, though he felt grateful for the intrusion. Yeah, he’d once put himself out there, and look at how that turned out. This fascination with Sam meant nothing. Just a hot chick with a bad ass attitude who he happened to be friends with. It was natural he’d be attracted to qualities he’d once hoped he might possess. “Nope.” He forced a grin. “Nothing beats a good pie. So, what’s for dinner tonight?”

She shook her head and sighed. “Come on. You can help me peel the sweet potatoes and chop up the onions.” He looked at her in confusion, “Wait. Those are vegetables.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes at him, “Yes, they are. You’re so smart.” He glared at her, saw her smile, and felt his palms sweat. “I can’t believe I have to work for my meal, and let me tell you something, Sam. You keep rolling your eyes like that, and one day they won’t roll back normal.” She laughed. “Whatever. Now grab a peeler and stop giving me shit.” She pointed that steel finger at him. “Fine, fine. No need for violence. Just tell me what to do.”

Over an hour later, he felt more than satisfied. The baked chicken, noodles, and veggie mash had gone down smoothly. He’d forced himself to only take two helpings, still hungry, but sadly not for food. He wished he didn’t remember how she tasted or how right it felt to make out with her at the senior house party some of the other popular kids hosted after graduation. He hustled her out of the kitchen when she tried to do the dishes. “Go sit and look pretty. Paint your nails. Whatever you do when you’re not working.”

“Paint my nails?” He filled a large pan with soapy water and, unable to help himself, tossed over his shoulder, “You know what I meant, Mayfield.” The way he said her last name sent a shiver down her spine, and her very presence had already started to make him horny. He braced himself against the sink, trying to get rid of the hard-on that wouldn’t quit. The thoughts of what he wanted to do to her that night popping back into his head which did not help his situation die down. It was like he wanted to die, smothered in the flames of his dirty mind and her hot body. She saw his issue and couldn’t help but smirk, “Promises, promises,” she taunted. “Oh please.” ‘Damn it, woman, I’m doing my best to keep it together.’ “As if you could handle me.”

“I think I handled you pretty well at the senior house party.” He glanced at her, seeing her so smug and sexy. So annoyingly unfazed from the tension that was building between them. “You just had to go there.” He said with a glare as she smirked again. “You did it first. Now get busy and do my dishes, tough guy. I’m going to sit here and watch a big strong man working in my kitchen, while I think about what pattern to do on my nails next.” She snickered. Fed up with her for being so damn cute and too much to resist, he left the sink with soapy hands and dared to approach her. She narrowed her eyes on him, “Don’t even think about getting me wet.” He paused. She blinked then turned a wonderful shade of pink.

His smile grew. “Aw, are you saying you’re already wet for me? Don’t need any help to get there?” She glared. “You wish.” Her gaze trailed down to his fly, and she swallowed audibly, not helping the situation. “You’re, um -” Steve was only human, and a guy could only take so much. “Yep. I’m rock hard for you, baby doll. You know, I haven’t had my dessert yet. I think I’m due for a piece of pie.” He pounced. She stopped him by placing her hands on his shoulders. They stared at each other, and he saw the same hunger he felt in her emerald-green gaze. “Does that mean that you’re going to eat me for dessert?” He hadn’t realized how much he’d be affected by her words, but he should have known that Sam wouldn’t play around for long.

“Yep. Gonna lick you until you cum.” Just thinking about it hurt because he felt ready to split his pants. “Oh, okay.” She licked her lips, and he groaned. “But what about sex?” She asked softly with a hint of curiosity in her voice. “What about it?” He asked, his voice deep, obviously aroused. “Are we going to have it?” She said biting her lip and looking up at him. “Yeah.” He blew out a breath. Her surprise turned into a naughty grin. “Oh. Interesting.” The damn woman licked her lips again. “Quit teasing me, Mayfield, I’m about to explode,” he confessed. “I’m clean, I’m huge, and I’m ready to fuck you into the ground. I want you, Sam. Now, do you have any more questions? Is this a damn debate club match or can we just get down and dirty now?”

She frowned. “You don’t have to get testy about it.” Then she grinned and stared between his legs. “Testy. Get it? Like, your testes? Should I spell that for you, so you get the joke?” He glared at her, “I think you’re a brat in need of an intensely good long session of vigorous sexual activities. ” She smirked, “Don’t brats need spankings?” She yelped when he lifted her up and over his shoulder in one smooth move, holding her in a fireman’s carry. He’d smacked her ass twice by the time he’d made his way into her bedroom. Once inside, he closed the door behind him. Steve saw a room filled with shades of red and black with tints of purple but held off on the inspection. Not now, when he had a warm and willing woman to plunder. Feeling decidedly sporadic, he tossed her onto her bed and followed her down.

She huffed, but before she could say anything, he pinned her to the mattress, conscious of how much larger, and harder, he was. “Are you sure about this, Sam? I need to know that this is what you want.” He couldn’t help grinding against her when she shifted, her legs spread and cradling him in the best way. “If we do this it better not be weird between us afterwards and I mean it.” At his fervent nod, she dragged his head down to her. “About time.” He groaned and kissed her, and his world settled on nothing but the beautiful Samantha Mayfield. She smelled like some kind of incense, and it was intoxicating. Her skin was smooth, and her lips tasted like the best-crafted beer; rich and full and so damn tasty.

She moaned into his mouth, and he squeezed her breast, not sure when he’d put his hand there. He had to touch skin and quickly moved under her shirt then palmed her, reveling in the taut nipple under the silk of her bra. He pinched her, and she shot up off the bed into him. He pulled back to see her dark cloudy gaze, and her lips ripe and red, swollen from his kiss. “Put it in me. Now.” She demanded and pushed him up to give her some space. He stared in awe as she shimmied out of her T-shirt and bra then waited, impatient. “We don’t have all night you know.” He laughed, surprised he could feel anything but all-consuming lust. “Still such a smartass.” He stared at her astounded someone could look so perfect. He caressed her, watching her face contort with pleasure and needing to be inside her in the worst way. But Steve didn’t want to rush this, not when he finally had her in his arms.

He bent down to take her nipple into his mouth and wanted to shout with delight when she clenched her hands in his hair, urging him for more. He sucked and teased while molding her other breast and realized he’d been thrusting against her. “I need you,” he managed to say when he released her to breathe. “Take your clothes off,” she ordered. He pulled back and left the bed to disrobe, watching her do the same. They stood there, naked, just taking in the moment before reaching for each other. Steve felt her hot little hands on him, and he nearly lost it.

“Wait, wait.” He slid her hands from his cock to his chest and tried to breathe through the out-of-control lust. “Oh, you’re so hot. No wonder everyone wants you.” she teased. “Stop it, woman. You’re killing me. I’m trying to last.” He groaned. “Only good for one round then? Not living up to the hype, Harrington.” She continued to tease. “You are so asking for it.” He shoved her down to the floor on her knees, not so gently, only to hear her laugh. She smirked and reached for his erection proceeding to fondle him. He shook, so close to climax. Then she let him go, and he let out a breath, only to stare down at her leaning towards him with parted lips. “Fuck. Baby girl, either you put that mouth on me yourself and show Daddy how good of a slut you are, or Daddy’s gonna force you to take him down your throat. Either way I’m going to cum down your pretty little throat.”

“Promise?” She said looking up at him batting her eyelashes innocently and biting her lip. He groaned and pulled her hair forcing her head back before he forced her mouth onto his cock; his eyes closing at the feeling of her hot breath over his dick. Sam palmed his balls as he forced her to take his cock all the way down her throat. The feeling was indescribable, as if she surrounded him with everlasting warmth. He forced her to bob over him repeatedly until he came so hard he saw stars. He heard himself moaning, felt the release fill her mouth, and couldn’t stop from pumping between her lips. After he could think again, he withdrew, still semi-hard and catching his breath, gripping her shoulder so as not to fall over.

He watched her wipe her lips, first with her tongue then her finger. She stared up at him as she dragged that wet finger down her chin to her breasts, circling her nipples before continuing lower. Fed up with letting her lead him by the balls - because, Christ, she had - he lifted her in his arms and kissed her until she moaned his name. Then he placed her on the bed and spread her thighs wide, kneeling between them. “Go on baby doll, put on a show for Daddy.” Her eyes bright, her lips shiny, and her body taut, she slowly slid that hand between her legs. “That’s right. It’s your turn,” he purred, prepared to show the little brat just how much pleasure he could give her before she lost all control. “Good girl. It’s about time you followed a few orders from your superior.” He smirked then lost all sense of humor as her fingers got busy. ‘Oh, hell yeah.’

Sam had never been so turned on before. Seeing Steve's pleasure, knowing she'd given it to him, had been hotter than she'd imagined sex with him would be. She, Samantha Mayfield, had made Steve Harrington tremble. ‘Go me.’ But now, with Steve ordering her around? Wanting to watch her pleasure herself? "Oh, yes," she moaned, loving the intensity with which he stared. She stroked herself, so wet and hungry for him that she didn't have to work to build her arousal. The scent and feel of him did as much to pleasure her as her fingers did. He leaned over her and kissed her, his tongue in her mouth, invading, retreating, then coming back. Bringing her closer to her own climax.

He played with her breasts, and she got the feeling he loved them, because he didn't stop. His kisses moved from her mouth to her neck and then her nipples. He kissed and teethed, causing her to lose her damn mind, especially when he withdrew her hand from between her legs and took her fingers in his mouth. "So fuckin' sexy," he paused to mutter before drawing them back in. His mouth over her fingers could be felt all over her body, the pull of his thick erection once again dragged over her belly. Then the stubborn man trailed down her stomach to rest his head between her legs. He inhaled and snarled. "You smell so sweet."

"Steve... oh God." He kissed her clit, making love to it with his mouth. Sucking and licking, then using his thick fingers to stroke her folds before easing them inside her. The sensation of fullness made her light-headed, especially when he started fucking her with his fingers while feasting on her at the same time. She couldn't help being washed away by a tidal orgasm, shivering while he continued to lick. Her sensitivity grew, but he pushed past it, easing her into a deeper, fuller feeling of desire. She rocked against his face, needing more as much as she needed him to relent. But he didn't stop, and he caused her climax yet again too soon. He finally pulled away and smirked as he grabbed his cock in his hand and proceeded to stroke it. "See how big you make me, baby doll? This, this is going inside you."

Spreading her legs wider, sitting on his heels as he knelt between them, he drew her up to him and positioned himself at her entrance. "Watch me," he growled, then slowly eased his huge shaft inside her. They stared at the sight of his sheathed cock penetrating her until he was balls deep. The fullness was incredible, his snug fit locking him inside. "Fuck, that's good," he rasped, staring down at them. Then he rubbed her clit and started pumping, the cords of his abdomen in stark relief with each push and pull.

She quickly exploded and screamed, so lost she didn't sense him until he blanketed her body, pounding harder and faster, until he seized and groaned, pouring his release inside of her. Exhausted yet exhilarated, she stroked his arms, feeling him shake as he continued to jet inside of her. Such a big man with such a huge orgasm. She shifted under him and sighed, feeling another jolt of pleasure as he remained thick and firm inside of her. "Steve, just... wow."

"Yeah," he said on a breath, leaning over her. His eyes appeared darker; the brown barely discernable around the wide pupils. "You sucked all the life out of me, you little brat." He moaned and leaned down to kiss her, the connection still tight. She kissed him back, stunned and starting to realize just what she had allowed to happen. But too well pleasured, she couldn't worry about it. Recriminations would come later, she was sure. For now, she'd bask in her incredible lover, wondering if he could go for a third round. Well, just as soon as she got the energy to move again.

"Right now, breathing is about all I'm good for," he admitted, as if he could read her mind. "Um." She said softly blushing slightly. "I'll take that as an agreement." He chuckled as he closed his eyes and blew out a breath. "Fuck, you're tight. I don't want to move, but I think I need to." It didn't feel as if he'd lessened any, but when he withdrew, she could tell he'd started to soften. "Man, that's a lot of cum," he said as some of it seeped out of her. Suddenly he grinned sadistically at her in a way that made her shudder with ecstasy, "Guess that means you're gonna have my baby, sweetheart." And that's when she realizes, her eyes widening, he wasn't wearing a condom.

Taglist: @paranoidmunson @the-valkyrie-writes @goldenbrownanddistasteful @gag-me-munson @choke-me-eddie @joeschains

#stranger things #steve harrington #joseph keery #smut #angst

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lilys-playhouse · 1 year ago

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Sometimes I just want to kidnap you

That sounds obvious, like, both cliche in terms of kink and just banal in terms of our love for one another; of course I’d kidnap you, duh.

But no

I mean sometimes I want to really fucking stalk you around upstate for days on end, giving you the chill on the back of your neck of someone watching you, of not being alone in a room you are almost definitely alone in, of being listened to on the phone and eyed while you change.

Sometimes I wonder if you’d love that, but I think you only would if you somehow knew it was me. Maybe I’d sharpie G022002S onto your foot in the middle of the night and you’d know I was there. Still not revealing myself to you.

Sometimes I wonder if youre just waiting for me to make a fantasy of yours to that extent come true. If, regardless of who it was at the time, you’re waiting for me to kill your bedmate and steal you from the clutches of whatever benign relationship youre enjoying in the moment. I wonder how often I’m on your mind while you’re with someone else. I think you like when they’re insecure about me, because they should be. I think you want them scared of me, because they should be. It’s daddy’s girl saying “my dad will kill you if you dare do XYZ”, you love that I’m ever looming, a safety net sure, but also the inevitability and constant force of nature in your life. So why shouldn’t I just take what’s mine by force:

One night, we’d do a silent get dressed with Lily, except, well you wouldn’t face time me, you wouldn’t call me, you wouldn’t even know I was there. You’d get all dressed up for someone else. I’d watch you try on options. Getting frustrated. Starting over. Then finally you’d found the right one. You’d go to call me. I wouldn’t answer. That hardly ever happens, how strange.

You’d go down your steps to your car. Open the door. Glance around for a moment. Dead of night, no one around, two people talking in the way distance, but they were too far away to even make a sound loud enough to penetrate the dense space between.

Then, a hand over your mouth and the crook of an elbow around your windpipe, dragged down, Handcuffed, tape gagged, put to sleep from light asphyxiation and blood flow restriction. Fluttery eyes, dizzy, exhausting your remaining breath fighting. You’d kick the side of your car as you went down, slamming the door closed. Good thing we’d take mine instead.

You’d wake up naked, bruised, laying on the floor, collared, chained to a hardpoint screwed into hardwood, delicate but sturdy gold links. Your holes tingling and loose feeling but still spasming.

How you were used day in and day out isn’t the point though. No, we’ll save those for another story. The point, is that one day I’d take you off the chain. I’d give you your clothes back, that same outfit we chose together, not that you knew it was together. And I’d tell you I was gonna leave the door unlocked. And I’d leave for the day. You’d wonder if I was really gone at first, or if it was just another day where I was waiting outside to beat you for trying to leave. I’d done that a dozen times. Testing you. So you’d learn that it wasn’t safe to leave and wouldn’t even try. It had been a while since those times though, and you hadn’t been trying on your own anymore. You’d gotten comfortable; even happy. You knew what your life looked like, you were taken care of, well fed, pleasured, cuddled. You felt genuinely loved. But, the door was right there, and there was nothing to stop you.

So you left.

I got home, no sight of you, and started about my evening. Cooking up risotto and plating only one dish for the first time in a while. Miserable.

Three days passed.

And then one morning opening my door to go to work, a little girl was there knelt on my doorstep, naked, clothes folded in front of her.

Begging to be taken back.

Apologizing profusely for leaving at all.

Realizing that freedom wasn’t really as freeing as submission, as this life with me was all you really needed, all you wanted anymore

You’d go in that door, and you’d never come out again

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novaiya · 3 years ago

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Arthur Morgan x Reader NSFW Alphabet

AO3 Link.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Arthur’s very lovey-dovey after sex. He’ll shower you in kisses and hold your body so close to his that you’ll feel his heartbeat. Affection is something he craves, and that hunger will only grow tenfold as the post-coital bliss washes over him. Falling asleep with you by his side, your naked body pressed against his, your head on his chest feels like home to him, where he can be free and safe.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his arms and hands. Not only are they a powerful tool that he uses on the daily to kill, rob, and steal, they also come in handy (hehe) in the bedroom. He’ll run his hands all over your body, pinching, touching, twisting. The feeling of your skin under his fingers is intoxicating, and so is the knowledge that it’s his touch that can make you moan and writhe in pleasure.

When it comes to you, it’s hard for him to pick just one favorite aspect. He loves every part of you, from your legs, to your hips and your waist, to your breasts and of course your face. If he absolutely has to choose, then he’ll pick your waist. He feels content when he has his hand on your waist, bringing you close to him and feeling your body next to his, be it when the two of you are out, or simply sitting by the campfire in camp.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Loves coming inside of you, be it in your mouth or your pussy. There’s just something so intimate and romantic in the feeling of being enveloped by your warm walls as he reaches his own release.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes to be dominated from time to time. It’s easy to understand; Arthur always has to take the lead, be the protector and the leader of the gang, making sure the people are safe and fed. It’s a lot of responsibility, and it weighs heavy on his shoulders. Sometimes he just wants to let go and have somebody else be in control. This want seeps into your intimate life, and at first, he’s embarrassed to voice it. He’s so used to being the strong, masculine outlaw that he’s not sure how to be anything else but that. You sense that something is wrong, so after a lot of prying and kissing he relents and tells you what he’s been thinking. He’s expecting you to laugh at him and dismiss his thoughts as silly, but you don’t. You ask if that’s what he really wants, and he nods. The night takes a completely different turn, with you having your way with Arthur, taking control of his pleasures. You’ll have him on the edge, teasing him relentlessly only to not give him what he needs.

“You think you deserve to cum?” you’ll say, nipping at his ear. “Think you’ve been good?”

He’ll moan your name, bucking his hips towards you and say, “Please.”

“That’s Madame for you,” you’ll correct him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

You wanna thank the woman (or women) who taught Arthur what he knows. From sucking on your clit, to hitting your G spot and nipping on your neck, the man knows every secret in the book that will have your toes curling and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Another great thing about him is that not only is he experienced, but he’s open to learning and trying something new. He’s not the type of man to get upset if you correct him on his technique. If you don’t like something and tell him to do it differently, he’s more than happy to correct himself. Your pleasure is more important than his ego.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

With you on your stomach and him on top, fucking you into the mattress. He loves the classic such as missionary and cowgirl during which he can see your face, but there’s something so intimate in being pressed so close against you, his chest touching your back.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Arthur is somewhere in the middle, leaning more towards serious. He can laugh during the process, but more often than not he’s concentrated, lost in pleasure and lust.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Arthur is hairy all over; from his head to his chest to his legs, and, well, there too. If it bothers you, he has no problem trimming down there, but he himself doesn’t care.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

During your love making (and it is love making, not fucking (thought that happens too sometimes)), he’s very romantic, making sure to tell you, “You’re so beautiful” and “I love you so much, darlin’.” He’ll shower your body in kisses, worshiping you like the goddess you are, kissing every inch of skin and murmuring praises and love confessions. The time you spend in each other's arms, bringing each other pleasure is not only about satisfying your carnal desires, it’s about being close, becoming one and showing just how much you love each other. It’s a process that neither of you want to rush, sometimes spending hours in each other’s arms, proving your love all. night. long.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

The two of you spend almost every waking hour together, but sometimes there are jobs that Arthur has to do alone (like bounty hunting or collecting debts). Some of those jobs are quick, and if he leaves in the morning he’s back in camp right before supper to spend the night with you. Others, however, can stretch for days, even longer if his destination is way out in the country. When he’s away from you for that long, taking himself in his hand is all he can do. He’ll wrap his fingers around his cock, starting with slow up and down movements, imagining it’s your hand and not his. He’ll bring to memory the image of your naked body under his, the sound of your voice moaning his name and the feeling of your walls spasming around him. If he’s alone, he’ll moan your name under his breath, his cock twitching in his hand as he’s nearing his release. With a cry of your name he’ll come, spilling himself on the ground, his hand working his cock to push every drop out.

It’s not the same as having you with him, that’s for sure, but it’ll have to do before he can have the real you in-front of him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Light bondage. He enjoys tying you up, like your hands behind your back or your hands to the bedpost. If the two of you are in a particular mood, he might even tie up your legs. After telling you his “dirty secret”, he enjoys being the one tied up as well. Both of you know he can get out of the ties easily, break the rope with just a flex of his muscles, but it’s the knowledge that he’s tied down and at your mercy that turns him on.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Somewhere that has a full sized bed (preferably a king sized one). As much as he enjoys the cozy atmosphere of his tent and the familiarity of his cot, it can be a bit annoying with two full sized adults trying to go at it on a bed that was made only for one person.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He loves hearing you moan his name, the sound of it coming broken and shaky from your lips. Feeling your legs shake, your body writhe and your hands holding on to him for support is his biggest motivation to work harder to bring you to your release, wanting nothing more than to see you fall apart to his touch.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation and physical abuse. A spank on your ass here and there is okay, and so is dirty talk, but nothing that crosses a line into actual degradation and physical abuse.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Homeboy loves getting his dick sucked. Having you on your knees with his cock in your mouth is one of the images that warms up his soul when he’s alone and away from you.

As far as giving, he enjoys it, and can spend hours between your thighs, lapping at your like you’re his last meal. He enjoys how you are when you’re nearing your release, your thighs shaking on his shoulders, your fingers holding on to his hair and holding him where you need him. Once your orgasm washes over you and you’re laying on the bed, panting, your eyes closed, he’ll emerge from between your legs, licking his lips, a satisfied smirk on them.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Arthur prefers slow, sensual lovemaking to rough and fast fucking any day of the week. He enjoys dragging his cock in and out of your pussy, the slow strokes driving you insane. His pace would be slow, but it would be deep and intense, making you see stars each time he hits a spot inside of you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

With how often Arthur has to go on jobs, quickies are a necessity in your relationship. Sometimes, he’ll only be in camp for an hour or two before heading back out, so as much as he’d love to pull down the flaps of his tent and ravish your body for hours on end, a quickie is all he can afford.

He’ll have you pinned to a tree on the outskirts of camp, his pants pulled down enough to pull out his dick, your skirt hiked up and your drawers pushed to the side. You’ll bite down on your fingers, trying to keep your moans at minimum as he pushes in you, his girth stretching you as it always does. It’ll be quick, dirty and sinfully delicious, and it will leave you craving more, waiting for Arthur to come back as soon as possible.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Arthur’s always game to try something new as long as it’s safe and both of you are on the same page.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Arthur can go all night long. The man has an implacable self control, and he can make you come countless times before cumming himself.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Arthur is a type of man that wants to do everything himself, be it cooking his own meals instead or ordering UberEats, or making you cum with his fingers instead of a vibrator. Personally, he doesn’t see a necessity for toys, but if it’s something you wanna try, he’s more than happy to use them.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

When he’s in a mood, Arthur can tease you ceaselessly. He’ll have you on the edge of orgasm for hours, making you think that he’s about to give you what you want, only to pull away at the last possible moment. You’ll be a shaking, moaning mess by the end of it, teetering on the edge of insanity and begging him to finally let you cum. He’ll smile that devilish smile, perhaps even cock his head to the side and take a moment to think before saying, “Nah,” and go back to teasing you for hours more.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

When the two of you are in camp, Arthur has no problem at keeping his volume to a minimum. He’ll grunt here and there, maybe let out a moan a few times, but nothing over the top, because he doesn’t want to bother other gang members. When the two of you are alone however, it’s a completely different story. The man moans. He lets out grunts, sighs and moans, but most of all, he lets out praises and comments.

“Shit, darlin’, you’re so tight,” he would grunt as he slips in your heat, “Gonna make me bust already.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he’d say as he circles your clit with his fingers, bringing you to your release for the unpteenth time that day, “I know you got it in you.”

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

The idea of you getting pregnant turns him on, a lot. The two of you are not actively trying to get pregnant, but the knowledge that he could do that to you, could put a baby in you and have you swollen and with a big belly because of him turns him on. When the two of you do decide to try for a child, he’ll be the one tracking your cycle and seeing which days you’re ovulating. On those days, you’ll barely leave the bed, only taking time to eat and relieve yourself before going back to making love in hopes of expanding your family.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Arthur’s hung. That’s all.

Jk, that’s not all. He’s long and thick, something that made a shiver run down your spine the first time you saw him naked. Even after being together for however long you were, his girth still manages to stretch you to your limits and need a moment to get used to. Arthur would never say it, but hearing you say, “You’re so big” gives him a high for hours and feeds his ego like nothing else.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before getting in a relationship with you, Arthur’s sex drive was mediocre. He might’ve sought the company of working girls a couple of times a month, but that was more like scratching an itch and not doing it out of pure lust. After getting in a relationship with you however, well, that’s a different story. Just the sight of you walking through camp can set his mind on fire. He has a hard time keeping his hands off of you, and can be a big distraction when you have to work. If you’re game, he’ll have you multiple times throughout the day; in the morning, after lunch during your guard duty, at night in the tent. The man wants you all the time and he’s not shy to tell you so.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Arthur is the type of man to fall asleep with his face in your tits. As soon as he makes sure that both of you are clean and comfortable, he’s out. He’ll be scooping you up in his arms and snoring in no time (and so will you, because Arthur’s snores and his warm chest is better than any Melatonin)

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spacegoldilocks · 4 years ago

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The Gods Demand a Queen

Bjorn Ironside x F!Reader

Summary: You're a thrall in Kattegat, under the rule of Bjorn, who desires to one day be Queen and sit on the throne. He helps you realise these dreams, in more ways than one.

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, smut, rough sex, throne sex, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, bit of choking, bit of spanking, size kink, praise, language, no use of Y/N

Word count: 8.5k

The Gods have never favoured you.

You’ve been at someone else’s will for as long as you can remember. Not all of them have been nice. It’s toughened you up, though. You’ve learnt your place and your manners. You’ve learnt when is the correct time to speak, and definitely when isn’t the correct time.

You’ve been in Kattegat, under the mercy of Bjorn Ironside, for a few months now. He’s fair. You mostly stay in the shadows and out of his way. He’s not even here most of the time, anyway. You can’t really complain about your time here, even though you dream of a different life.

You dream of sitting high on a throne somewhere. Anywhere. Not having anyone to answer to. Your own thralls and slaves to do with as you please. A thousand people who call you their Queen, who sit around you, showering you with compliments and gifts. Sacrifices in your own name. A crown upon your head and your face smeared with colours that tell everyone that you are the Queen.

Alas, dreams are dreams. And you don’t dare defy the authority that lingers over you. The fate that awaits your disobedience and failure to capture the power you so desperately crave is worse than simply maintaining your fantasy. You listen attentively to the every need of the family in charge. Most notably, Bjorn.

He’s away more often than he’s here. In those moments, the throne lays empty. Practically begging to be used. At present, no queen resides in Kattegat and you long for the feeling of the throne beneath you. It calls to you like no other.

It’s more than a feeling that tells you that you belong on the throne. You feel as though the Gods have a plan for you. They keep you waiting, so you can ready yourself for when the times comes. It is a question of when not if. The Gods demand a queen for Kattegat, you can hear them.

You say Bjorn is away more than he’s here, yet today is one of the rare times he’s here and he’s active. A room full of people and many duties to attend to. Which also means you’ve been on your feet all day. With Bjorn home and his being busy, you’ve had no end of tasks to complete and requests to indulge.

It started this morning when he and his men arrived on the shores of Kattegat. You having to draw baths and prepare a feast, wash clothing and all the while do it quickly to keep time for any other jobs that might need doing. This included waiting on their every need as they enjoyed festivities for returning safely from their travels.

And so, the throne has been occupied. The only time Bjorn left his seat was to eat with his men, and he quickly returned to it when he was finished. You’d been watching him since he returned. The way he sits, spreading across the chair. Arms thrown over the sides, legs parted, head resting against the back as he looks down at everyone else.

Despite everything you feel, there’s no denying that power suits him. He makes a good king. He is fair and strong and courageous. And he is a son of Ragnar. He speaks with a loud, commanding voice when he addresses his people, thanking them for their bravery and telling them that they live to face more battles before walking the halls of Valhalla.

You won’t lie to yourself and say he’s not attractive, you’ve thought about it before. If you weren’t a thrall and spent more time with Bjorn, you like to think that something might’ve happened between the two of you. But you really have a knack for staying in the shadows, hidden, and only coming out when absolutely necessary.

Throughout the entire evening into night you’ve stayed hidden away as much as possible, watching Bjorn in his position on the throne. Gods, he’s so big. You shake the thought from your head, feeling the pain in your shoulders from so much time racing around today. Your back is killing you. But it’s getting very late, not long and you should be able to go to bed. Not long, you tell yourself. Everyone in the hall should be getting tired too, a long day of celebrations after an even longer time travelling.

They start disappearing in small numbers. Many women leaving in the arms of men, some already married, others seeking comfort in one another just for the night. You’ve made it your business to become familiar with a lot of people around here, not just so you can be a good thrall, but just in case. In case of what, you don’t know. You just think it might be good to have a good indication of who people are, and what they do, in case you need it.

Eventually, there’s only you, a few other slave girls and a handful of men, who are outrageously drunk. They’re so loud. They shout and bang their fists and cups on the table, spilling their drinks and making an even bigger mess that will need to be cleaned up.

Bjorn looks almost fed up, scowling as he watches the men from his seat. He holds his chin, elbow propped up on the arm of the throne. “That is quite enough.” He calls.

All eyes shoot to him. The men look like they want to argue back at him, but ultimately know better than to do so.

“Finish your drinks and leave. Everyone needs their rest.” He gestures around the room, even though there are only a few men, all concentrated on the table nearest the fire. “We have a long few days ahead of us.”

They chug their drinks, not wanting to disappoint or annoy Bjorn any further. They leave one by one, as soon as they each finish drinking, bowing to him before swaggering out of the hall.

You and the other girls are expecting Bjorn to up and leave, letting you all take care of the mess in the hall. But he doesn’t.

You each look at one another from across the room, spaced out along the walls. You’re all as confused as each other, trying to look for someone, or something, to take a cue from.

One of the girls, directly across from you, begins to move. She steps forward gingerly, looking at Bjorn as she does so for any sign that he wants everyone to remain as they are. It’s incredibly tense. This has never happened before. You’re waiting for his voice to boom and echo throughout the mostly empty room, telling the girl to return to her place.

His eyes flick to her, watching as she goes to the table, picking up as many items as she can carry, before returning to stare at the ground, lost in thought and twiddling his fingers. He doesn’t seem to have a problem - you’d know if he did.

And so the rest of you follow her lead, carrying things out of sight to clean and making the hall look more presentable after being thoroughly worn out by the returning warriors.

Your whole body aches. Your back, your feet, your head. Everything. At this point, you just want to sit down. The soles of your feet are probably worn from standing, walking, rushing from one place to the next.

You take any little milestone you can get. You told yourself everyone in the hall would leave and they did. Check. Now it’s four more tables to clear, the fire to put out, the goblets and cups to leave soak. The list goes on.

You and the other girls are dotted around the hall, cleaning and collecting different things when Bjorn gets up. You all make it your duty to not look at him.

Do not make it obvious that you were waiting for him to do something.

You hear him make his way across the room, his heavy boots making the wood underneath him creak, thumping across the stone floor as he descends from the elevated throne. His footsteps stop much too early for him to have already left the room, let alone the building. It’s unbearably quiet.

You audibly gasp when you hear whispering voices - much too quiet for you to understand what they’re saying, and thankfully they’re too far away for them to have heard your embarrassing gasp. Although, you immediately recognise one of the voices as Bjorn’s. Gods, you’d love to turn around to see what he’s doing. His behaviour tonight is continually fascinating.

You try your best to keep going with your task. ‘Just clean the table’ you tell yourself. ‘Focus on that. There’s a stain, try to get it out. Pay no attention to the-‘. Now there’s two sets of footsteps. One Bjorn’s, the other one of the girls. Is she leaving?

The stain. You scrub at it, trying to ignore the way Bjorn’s footsteps stop again. Followed by more whispering. And more footsteps. What the fuck is going on?

You think another one of the girls has left too. You scrub harder at the stain, thinking that perhaps if you channel enough of your remaining energy into removing it then your brain won’t have any to think about what Bjorn may or may not be doing.

Gods, why are you so on edge? Would you be this tense if you could actually see what he was doing? Shit, is that more whispering? And it’s closer. Maybe if you stopped scrubbing the table so loudly you could just about hear…

No. The stain.

Fuck, what is happening? In the room, to the girls, to Bjorn, to you.

You can probably guess what’s happening to you - you’re tired. You’re becoming delusional from being so exhausted by today. You’ve worked hard. You’re still working hard. This damned stain. You’re working so hard to remove it, to distract yourself, you’re only now feeling the way your shoulder is pulling from the harsh movements of your arm.

The stain’s probably gone. You lift your arm up to check and, sure enough, it is. Surely, you’re done for the night now? You’re exhausted, the long hours you’ve worked today are starting to catch up with you. You want to sit down. You want your bed. You want to rest. You want the hand that’s just started rubbing circles across your back to keep doing it. Gods, you could fall asleep right here, the motions lulling you.

Fuck. You flash back to your reality, your head whipping around as Bjorn’s eyes meet yours. He looks aggressive, towering over and shrouding you against the table. His hand rests on the small of your back as he just looks down at you. Maybe its your exhaustion, or perhaps its seeing him this close up for the first time, but Gods is he gorgeous.

Well, you’ve always thought he was handsome but something about seeing the many scars on his face that you’d never had the privilege of seeing before, and the brilliant blue of his eyes somewhat dimmed in the firelight, and the coarse hairs of his beard like this snaps you awake. His smile breaks through the tough exterior he presents, making you relax just a little bit.

The next words that come out of his mouth take you by surprise more than his hand that smoothes across your back. “Have a drink with me.”

Have a drink with him? You probably look insane because you just stare at him. Completely dumbfounded. Somehow you manage to nod your head, letting him lead you away from your lovely, clean table to a slightly dirtier one. At least he appreciates your hard work.

You set yourself down on one of the benches by the fire, resting your arms on the table to try to find a comfortable position where your back doesn’t ache. Bjorn, meanwhile, crosses the room, fetching with him two cups of ale. He sits down right next you, leaving a bit of space but not much.

He looks at you quizzically as he takes a gulp of his drink, whilst you sip. “What is your name again?”

You’re not surprised he doesn’t remember, it’s been many months since you last spoke to him outside of his instructions to you. You answer him between sips of the ale. It’s not your favourite drink in the world, but you like it. And you’ll probably get a small buzz off it between your sleepiness and the lack of water you’ve drank today.

“Hm,” he hums. “That was it. You have been here for several months now, no?”

You can’t help but wonder why he’s sat with you, asking you questions about yourself. Is he expecting you to ask questions back in return? You don’t think there’s a thing you don’t know about him. He is the king, after all.

You nod. “And what do you think of Kattegat?” He swigs from his cup, eyes staying on your face as you carefully consider his question.

You have nothing negative to say about the place, but you still try to choose your words carefully in case you say the wrong thing. “I think it is lovely here.”

He stays silent, willing you to keep talking.

“The people are nice, the food is good. And it is a beautiful place. There is much to see and do.” You elaborate.

He smiles under his beard, nodding in approval at your answer. You sip some more, waiting for another of his questions. He gets up to refill his cup, having finished it rather quickly. He checks yours, seeing it still mostly full, and walks across the room.

Just when he’s about to sit back down, he asks you another question. “And what do you think of the King?”

Your heart starts hammering against your chest - what sort of question is that? Moreover, what the fuck does he expect you to answer if not praise? You see his kind smile has turned into a devilish smirk when you look at him. Are you imaging it or has he sat ever-so-slightly closer to you?

You straighten yourself up, ignoring the painful tugging of your shoulders. “Well,” you begin. “I think that he is just, and fair. And that he makes a good leader.”

The smug look on his face stays, not bearing to stay silent long enough for you to make the decision to keep talking on your own. No, instead he insists you keep feeding his ego as soon as you take the smallest break in talking. “Go on.”

This time it’s you who smirks at him. “I know he is a fierce warrior. And I think that he looks rather good on the throne.” You mean the last remark in that the symbol of authority suits him. But, if he decides to take it … another way, then that’s up to him. Either way, you don’t mind what he interprets the comment to mean.

He looks away from you, chuckling, but giving nothing away. It makes you laugh a little bit too, any tension from earlier having melted away with your easy interactions.

It doesn’t last, not for you at least.

“Tell me, have you ever thought about what it would be like to be Queen?”

With one single sentence, you feel as if he can see right through you, right into you. Fucking of course you have, but how should he know? How can, in one sentence, he be able to floor you like he this, to ask you a question so unintentionally personal? One that pulls something deep within you, something you’ve never voiced to anyone and suddenly now it’s being unearthed by the one person who you should never have to confess it to. Not that you necessarily need to confess the degree to which you have thought about it, but even the insinuation that you have is enough for you to begin flustering, muddling any answer that comes into your head into an unintelligible mess that you can’t verbalise.

You’re quiet for much, much too long. You need to say something. “I’m sorry?” You settle for pretending not to understand.

But it’s no use. The damage caused by you silence is done. His jaw rocks to the side, clenched so hard his jaw bone juts outs under his beard. “So you have.”

Your drink lays forgotten, only serving as a distraction for your anxious hands as you fidget with the rim of the cup. You avoid his gaze, unsure how to act. Then again, surely everyone has dreamt about being king or queen? Maybe not to the degree you have, but doesn’t everyone strive for power? You hold your head up a little bit, feeling slightly reassured by your own line of thinking.

You keep your eyes trained forward, though. He tips his head to look at your face and you can just feel the way he’s smirking at you. He’s left you looking so stupid, stewing in your own thoughts.

“Come with me.” Is all he says as he swings his legs over the bench to stand up. When you look up he’s waiting, hand held out for you to take.

You get up, smoothing your dress out and taking his hand. He guides you out to stand with him on the other side of the bench and leads you towards the very far end of the long room. Towards the throne.

Your eyes flick from him, to the throne, to him again - back and forth as you walk the length of the room.

He stops at the chair and you stop with him, still with your hand in his. Is he doing this as a display to taunt you? Show you up close what you can never have? It’s fucking cruel if he is.

You wait for him to do something so you can take a cue from it. You look up at him and he simply motions with his hand to the throne. You frown, waiting for more information from him. “Sit.” He says.

Sit? On the throne? On his throne? Gods, is this some sort of test? Is he giving you a taste, a mere crumb, of how it might feel to actually have power? Or is he just pushing you to see how far you’re willing to go to obey him? It’s his throne, it belongs to him. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone else use it - not even while he’s away, far gone on a raid somewhere.

He drops your hand, using his own to push gently on your shoulders. He spins you around, pulling you down to sit on the throne as he stands behind you.

The room looks huge from this position. Slightly elevated above everyone else and able to see everything and, should the room be full, everyone. It’s comfortable too, and big. You expected as much, Bjorn doesn’t even fully fill the chair and he’s the biggest, broadest man you think you’ve ever seen.

He lowers himself to your ear behind you. “How does it feel?”

‘Correct’, is what you want to say. “Good.” Is what you settle for.

He straightens back up, placing his hands on your shoulders. He’s so big, and he’s putting far too much weight on your already sore shoulders, causing you to wince. “Are you alright?” He asks, alleviating some of the pressure.

“‘M fine, my back hurts is all.” You try to make it not seem as bad as it is, but truthfully you’re in pain.

“Let me help.”

“N-no, it is fine, really.” You lean forward to get up from the throne just as he starts using his thumbs to dig right into a tight spot in the middle of your shoulder blades. You let out a groan at how good it feels, closing your eyes and slumping your head against the back of the chair. Any desire to get up leaves you as Bjorn works the muscles at the back of your neck.

“Tell me if it is too hard.” The calloused pads of his fingers trace firmly across the tops of your shoulders, barely grazing your collar bones as his thumbs work into the top of your back.

It’s a power trip. You sitting on his throne whilst he massages the knots out of your back and shoulders. It’s getting you high, and you open your eyes to look out across the room. You imagine how it would look full of people. Like it was earlier tonight. Packed full with people there to see you. You'd kill for it.

Gods, his hands feel so fucking good and they spread across your shoulders so big. Your eyes flutter back closed, wanting to enjoy his touch without much other sensory experience.

You’re reluctant to acknowledge the fact that it’s turning you on, too. The pain of him rubbing away the aches mixes with just how amazing his warm hands feel against your bare skin. It makes you moan, forgetting where you are as you revel in his hands taking the pain away from you, leaving only traces of his touch behind.

He focuses on your arms now, the clusters of dull ache now gone from your back. His palms work down your biceps, squeezing your soft flesh over your clothes and coming back up to massage your shoulders. His fingers spread out over your chest, rubbing the skin there. You hum under his touch, which he can probably feel reverberating on your chest under his fingertips.

You didn’t tell him your chest hurt, but he spends time concentrating on manipulating your flesh there anyway. His fingers dig into the bones, coming up momentarily to wrap his thick fingers around your neck, squeezing before dipping back down. He repeats this a few times, making you whimper every time he does.

“Is this good?” He whispers from behind you.

You moan out a small ‘yes’, letting him continue with his handy work. His splayed hands come further down your chest, beginning to dip below the necklace of your dress. Your heart beats faster and fuck, you’re wet. You’re trying not to let it get to you but in this moment, you’d let him do anything to you, you realise.

You furrow your brows, trying to push it to the back of your mind, but his hands keep working further and further down, in tiny increments. You swear he’s going to reach your breasts any moment. But he doesn’t. It feels like he’s teasing you. In fact, he goes anywhere besides them. He massages the skin directly above them, kneading into it with the heel of his palm. Then, he dips his fingertips deep into the neckline of your dress, drawing a long, hard line through the middle of your chest, dragging between your breasts. He starts near the bottom of your sternum, feeling the rapid beat of your heart as you try not to think about the warmth pooling between your legs.

You don’t see the way his jaw clenches as he realises how rousing you’re finding this, being groped and touched by him. He told himself he wasn’t going to take it any further, but he can’t help himself. Not when you respond to his touch like this. All the little moans you’ve been making, and the way your heart thrums against your chest. He wants more from you. He wants to hear and feel more of you. Fuck it, he thinks.

He touch leaves you, and you feel yourself come down slightly from a high you didn’t even realise was so severe until it cuts short. You open your eyes to see him walking around to the front of the throne again. He extends his hand to you, much like he did earlier, and you know its your signal to get up from the throne.

You take it, feeling no pain whatsoever in your back, nor shoulders, when you hurl yourself from the comfort of the chair.

He surveys you, using his free hand to cup your cheek. His touch is intoxicating. You don’t know what it is, but the way his hands feel on your skin makes you chase the warmth of him, needing more than the short strokes he gives you. You lean your head into his palm, only slightly but enough to indicate your interest to him.

He’s trying so hard not to give into the part of his brain that tells him to kiss you and to touch you even more. But he hasn’t done well at fighting it up until now. And, unless he’s deluded, you want this too.

Your chest rises and falls, waiting for him to do something. It’s not your place to. His hand stays holding your cheek. It’s so fucking big. It’s big enough for his palm to cover your entire cheek. Gods, his hands were big enough to almost spread out across your chest. His long, thick fingers working at the base of your neck and down past your breasts. Your mind drifts as you stare at him, thinking about how they might feel somewhere else.

His hand drops from your cheek. You think he’s going to walk away and leave you desperate for his touch again. Instead, he sits back down on his throne, looking up at you as he settles against the back of it casually.

Fucking Gods, if he keeps looking at you like that you’re going to jump on him. It’s him that made you feel like this anyway. You were perfectly content to go to bed after finishing cleaning, but no. He had to ask if you wanted a drink with him, and ask you questions, and fucking massage you as you sat on his throne.

He keeps looking at you, considering what to do next. All he knows is he wants you out of your dirty, worn clothes. He flicks his hand up and down, gesturing at them. “Take it off.” He tells you.

Finally, you think, trying not to be too eager in removing your garments.

You start with your shirt, unhooking the top few buttons to allow you to slip the long sleeves down your arms. You let the sleeves fall and the rest of the garment goes with it, left in a heap at your feet. You’re completely revealed for him, your body glowing from the light of the fire behind you.

His cock twitches in his trousers upon seeing you bare before him. He’s trying not to be too obvious, trying to be patient in looking at your body, but he’s greedy. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every inch of your exposed skin that he can see.

You look down at the slight tent in his trousers, smirking at him. He returns it, curling his finger at you to beckon you forward. You’re much too far away, he wants to let his hands explore you. Much further than they already did.

You walk to him, meeting his hands as they come up to hold your tits. Those big fucking hands that trace under the swell of your breast. That grope at your flesh, and his thumbs that brush over your nipples, hard in the cool night air that makes its way into the hall.

He alternates between pinching your nipples, pulling them so hard it almost hurts, and soothing them again by gently rubbing over them.

Everything about this feels so dirty. Displaying yourself to Bjorn. The literal king. Offering yourself to him naked like this whilst he sits completely clothed on his throne. You know you’re probably not the first thrall he’s done this with, but it’s a first for you. And you actually like it. It’s a thrill. Whimpering at every roll of his fingertips over your nipples.

You ache for his touch somewhere else, trying to subtly squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of the ache. He doesn’t seem to be in any sort of hurry, taking his time to study every detail and flaw in your skin. It could be ages before he touches you elsewhere - if he decides to touch you elsewhere.

He pinches you again, but you’re so sensitive from his hands that you yelp, chest jumping under his touch. He looks up at you, looking at your face for the first time since you removed your clothes as he leans forward, enveloping your breast in his mouth. His tongue is hot but does wonders to soothe the slight stinging. He maintains eye contact as he swirls gentle circles around your nipple, leave a small bite before he moves to work on your other one. His beard scratches at your skin as he moves his mouth, melting in with the pleasure he's already giving you.

You snake your arm around his head, holding him to you as you watch him in awe. He’s an expert with his tongue, flicking and drawing patterns over the peaks. He moves on from focusing all of his attention on them though, sucking sloppy wet kisses into the bouncy flesh on your tits. He travels the kisses across your chest, leaving you glistening with his saliva. He goes down, grabbing at your hips as he traces his tongue down the centre of your breasts to just above your navel.

You want him to go further, resisting the want to buck your hips towards him to will him to go on. He draws his head back, his hands still resting on your hips.

He shifts his gaze down, watching his own movements as his fingers move across your lower abdomen, combing through the curls that lead him down.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

You nod. Gods, it’s more than okay. You’ve been waiting for him to touch you for the last … how long? You’ve lost all sense of time. All you know is you’re needy for him.

His tips of his fingers travel further, stilling as they reach the beginning of your slit. He lifts his head, studying how your face contorts in pleasure as he moves his fingers again, pressing one of them against your clit.

He pushes his finger down further towards your entrance, feeling how wet you are there. He smiles at this, satisfied knowing how turned on you are for him. He drags his finger back through, now wet with your slick, using it to draw an irritatingly weak circle around your clit. You try to push your hips further forward for more pressure, but the hand that remains on your hip prevents you from doing so.

Your breath staccatos as he pays not nearly enough attention to your throbbing clit. You moan at the loss of contact when he removes his hand from your cunt altogether, spinning you around so your back, and ass, face him. He almost pushes you over as he grabs handfuls of your behind, spreading your cheeks apart to really get a good look at you.

All you need is just a little push, a minute or so of strong, steady work on your pussy to send you over the edge. He’s intent on making you wait though. It’s cruel, you think. He knows what he’s doing to you - he’s fucking felt it. It’s sadistic. Making you wait. Teasing you.

He kneads your ass, his thumbs dipping into the space between your cheeks, so close to where you need him but never quite reaching there. It’s torturous. You know if you push your rear out against him, it’ll probably result in a longer wait before he properly pays you the attention you desperately crave. And so you stay just as you are, letting him manipulate your flesh as he so pleases. You can wait, you tell yourself.

Suddenly, he takes one of his hands away, using it to place a hard smack against your ass. You cry out as you feel heat rising where he’s slapping you. It stings and you’re surprised you like it. He watches your body shake, eagerly awaiting more. You clench around nothing as he lands another one. And another. He huffs a laugh, seeing how your body jolts at every strike, continuing to land a few more as he pleases.

He seems satisfied with his work on your behind, raising his hands to your hips once again. He places a soft kiss on your burning skin and then you’re being hurled backwards, landing on his lap.

He immediately starts attacking your neck with tongue and teeth, hands roaming around your stomach to pull you into a comfortable position on him. He then uses them to pull your legs over both of his, spreading them to give himself access to your body.

And he makes sure he makes the most of it. He grabs your tits, letting your head roll onto his shoulder as he continues his assault on your neck. You feel your skin going tender as he sucks harsh spots against the delicate flesh there. You feel the irritation there as his rough beard scratches your skin, with the potential to leave your skin marred.

“Do you want me to touch you?” He whispers between sloppy kisses.

“Gods, please.” You moan in response.

“Where?” He grabs your hand, placing it over his and pressing firmly, letting you guide him wherever you want him. You take his hand down, letting it hover over your trembling cunt. He nips at your jaw. “I thought so.”

He repeats his motion from earlier, pressing a single finger against your clit, but instead of only dipping down to your entrance, he opts to slide an entire finger into you down to his knuckle. Your back tries to arch away from him, but he keeps you locked down against his chest with his spare arm.

He pumps the finger in and out of you, making the most obscene squelching sound from the warm wetness he uses to ease the movements of his digit. Your arms lay useless at the side of you, letting him do all the work to pleasure you.

He adds another finger, scissoring the two of them inside you, stretching you open as he brings his thumb down onto your clit. To go from one lone finger to this makes you cry out, hips spasming from the shock. You can’t help moaning with how he works your pussy, curling his fingers to hit a spot deep inside you that makes you feel dizzy.

“If you keep being so loud people are going to hear you.” He warns.

“Maybe I would like that.” You retort, bucking your hips as far as you can with him restricting your body’s movements.

You feel his cock twitch against you as he snarls into your ear. “Such a filthy girl.” One of his hands begins snaking its way towards your throat, grabbing at it harshly to cut off any noise that tries to escape your mouth. “But as much as I like hearing your pretty sounds, I need you to be quiet.”

The moans get trapped in your throat, and you can’t warn him of your oncoming orgasm. It starts creeping up on you, burning low in the pit of your stomach as his hands work to push you further and further. You hit at the hand on your neck, trying to get him to let you go.

He loosens his grip but the fingers inside you work faster to make you cum. “What is the matter?”

“Close.” Is all you say, the oxygen able to reach your brain again momentarily before he constricts around your neck again.

He nods into your shoulder, kissing you there as he pumps, nudging your clit with his thumb as he does so. The way you make the smallest noises that he feels trying to escape beneath his fingers makes him groan. You’re making him so fucking hard. Your pussy clamps down around his fingers, preparing for your climax when he slows his movements down entirely, sending you spinning away from coming. He removes his fingers from you, bringing them to trace small wet circles around your nipples, as his other hand eases its grip on your throat.

It takes you completely by surprise, only seconds away from finishing when he rips it all away from you. You’re breathless, asking him why he stopped. “I didn't cum.” You tell him.

“No, I know.” He laughs the deepest, filthiest laugh you think you’ve ever heard in your ear. “You’re not coming yet. I want you wetter before I make you cum on my cock.”

The words hit deep inside you, making you clench on instinct. So this is what he wants to do? Prepare you to take him. Or maybe he just likes seeing you squirm and fidget on his lap, completely in control of your body.

Either way, it’s doing wonders to keep you wanting him.

He slowly drops his hand back down, bringing the same two fingers into your warm heat. He leaves your clit alone, focusing all his attention on dragging the rough pads of his fingers against the sweet spot inside you. He curls them, hitting just where you need him to every single time. It’s bliss and before long your walls start fluttering, a sign of your peak.

He feels it. He feels how your pussy starts spasming around his fingers, clenching the very tips of them as he pushes them so fucking deep into you. He loves this. Getting to push you further and further. He wants you begging for him to let you cum. Begging for him to fuck you and let you cum all over him. He wonders how many times he can edge you before he gives in to your sweet little cries and pleading eyes.

Both of you knew it wouldn’t take long for your high to burn back up as quickly as it diminished. It makes you crazed, letting your loud moans fill the hall with nothing around your neck to stop them getting out. He works faster, now knowing how you respond to being so close, pushing his fingers into your opening and using his other hand to absentmindedly play with your tits.

He knows now how to work you up unbearably quick and strip it all away before you're pushed too far - and it’s exactly what he does. As you're sent hurtling forwards towards your high once again, he takes away his fingers, leaving you edged again.

You slump back against him and let your head rest on his shoulder, already exhausted from the whiplash of pleasure and it being stripped away before it’s able to consume you.

He rolls your head towards him, pressing his lips against your forehead. “You’re doing so well.” He praises. He rubs your thighs, waiting for the right time to start playing with your cunt again. It’s surprisingly soothing.

He waits for your breath to become steady and for your body to cool down. You’re worked up beyond belief

Your body’s covered in a cold sweat, worn out from all the edging he’s putting you through. You don’t even know how much more of this you can take. How much more you can tolerate before you take matters into your own hands, giving yourself your own release. It sounds good, but truthfully? Waiting it out for the prospect of being fucked by him? Gods, it sounds a thousand times better. You can’t see it but you can just feel how big he is, his cock pressing hard into your back. You want to feel it stretching you, filling you in a way his fingers fail to achieve.

He decides you must be ready, because he takes two fingers to rub against your clit. Your hips buck up, the nerves in your clit overworked and yet desperate to chase any contact to give them release. Your moans come out frantically, whimpering in your slumped position lying against him as his hot breath fans over your face.

His fingers work around your bud with ease, using the excessive slick you’re producing to slip through your folds. He loves this, watching how your body looks, so worked up. You’re shining with sweat, an icy sheen over your entire body, coating your chest, your legs. Beautiful.

You’re so sensitive and you haven’t even cum. You writhe in his lap, waiting for the moment you feel yourself about to peak and trying to prepare for the eventual fall away from it. You know it’s going to happen. He told you he wants to fuck you through your orgasm, so you know you’re about to be denied three times in a row.

You feel it, again. Your clit becoming more and more needy as his fingertips swirl around it. Your back starts to arch, preparing for a climax that’s not going to happen. You push his hand away on instinct, already accustomed to being denied your high. The quick movement of your hand takes you both by surprise.

You keep a firm grip as your fingers lock around his hand, keeping it held hovered above your pussy. Your eyes flutter closed. You know you can’t take another round of this … whatever it is. Fucking torture.

“You learn fast.” He remarks, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly, your orgasm slipping away from you for the third time.

“Please, let me cum.” You plead with him.

“Here, get up.” He helps you to your feet as you stand on weak, shaking legs.

You get up, feeling just how wet you are at the apex of your thighs as they press together for the first time since he pulled you onto his lap. They move together, sticky, as you pad around to face him.

He’s spread out across the chair, just as he was earlier when you saw him. The only difference is the huge bulge in his trousers, and the wet spot - evidence of the messiness between your legs.

He dips his hand below the loose waistband of his trousers, pumping himself without you being able to fully see. With his other hand he pulls you by your hips onto his lap, facing him this time. You place your knees in the free space left on the throne on either side of his legs. You reach your hand to meet his in his trousers and feel how big he is for yourself.

Your hand can barely wrap around his girth. You give him a hard tug, making him grunt. It’s like music to your ears. Finally getting to hear the noises he makes, instead of him pulling the sounds out of you as he denies you. He twitches in your hand as you free him from the confines of his trousers.

And if you couldn’t feel it in your hand, you fucking see it. He’s huge. You bite your lip, anticipating the difficulty you’re going to have letting him fuck you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone this big before, let alone let them inside you.

You look up at him, seeing how smug he looks knowing you’re gobsmacked. He knows he’s impressive. Just knows you’ve never seen a cock that big. He probably knows you’re going to find it hard to take, too.

So you’re determined to take it. And you’re so fucking ready to cum. You need it.

You rise up on your knees, lining him up with your entrance. You're wet enough, but even the nudge of his head against your opening makes your mouth fall open. He pulses in your hand as you stay there, trying to let your cunt adjust to the intrusion.

The way he stretches your tight hole makes it sting. But you can’t help but think it feels fucking amazing - he fills you so well as you sink down onto him. A different kind of pain and pleasure mixture than when his big, warm hands were caressing your shoulders and chest, earlier. It’s not warm and soft like that, it’s blazing hot and fiery, perfect around him as he throbs.

Your hands find their way back onto his chest, confident that he won’t slip out of you by accident. You move up and down on just the top half of his length, taking yourself further down with every jolt of your hips.

The hands on your hips still you as you move down on him. “Do you want me deeper?” He pushes his hips up, nudging his cock further into you by a mere fraction. “Tell me, is that what you want? You need me to fill you?”

Fucking of course it’s what you want, you want to feel him all the way inside you. You want to be able to feel him when you walk tomorrow. You’re just nervous at having to take all of him. “Yes, just go slow.”

He stays holding your hips, lifting his hips up to push into you. He loves watching it. Loves how it feels. How your tight heat clenches around him as he pushes into you. He takes it slow, like you asked, gently lowering you back onto him a little as he watches himself move inside you. You’re almost there and he thrusts the rest of the way into you, burying himself to the hilt.

You mewl, completely filled by him now. You roll your hips against him, feeling every time his head moves against your walls and nudges against your cervix.

“F-Fuck. Bjorn -“ you begin.

He feels your thighs clenching on either side of him, a sign that you’re about to cum. “Do it.” He says. “Cum for me.”

The relief washes over you just as your orgasm does. Your body jolts forward, unable to hold yourself up anymore. You cum hard. So hard. He feels his cock get flooded with more of your arousal as you squeeze him with the flexing muscles in your cunt. Your eyes roll back as you hold yourself against him for security, clutching onto him hoping to ground yourself against something.

He keeps moving his hips against your writhing ones, dragging his cock inside you. It makes you scream. The sound gets muffled against his clothed chest as you crumple into a spent heap on him.

You feel more than hear the guttural moans that escape Bjorn as he feels you coming undone so hard on his lap. The sounds reverberate in his chest underneath you and he holds you close to him. You nuzzle into his chest, letting him take over the movement to chase his peak now that you’ve reached yours.

He meets virtually no resistance from your cunt now, easing in and out with your slick and the slackness that came with your orgasm. He thrusts a few times before starting to hammer into you with zero remorse.

You try to thrash out, but he’s holding you so tight against his chest that there’s nowhere for you to go.

“You didn’t think I was only going to let you cum once, did you?” He growls into your ear. “You worked so hard, you deserve one more.”

Your arms are trapped under the weight of your upper body, all of which is held flush against him as his arms wrap around you. He holds you in place as he brutally fucks up into you, his skin slapping against yours and making the filthiest smacking noises that echo around the empty room.

You relax against him, feeling every inch he buries into you and letting yourself be carried away by the euphoric way he’s making you feel. You swear, no one’s ever made you feel like this.

He notices the way you go slightly limp against him, using the opportunity to keep one arm around you and wedging the other between the two of you. There’s just enough room for him to reach his middle finger up to stroke over your clit in perfect time with his thrusts.

There’s no sound that escapes your mouth when you open it to cry out. Only a hoarse, throaty moan that gets caught somewhere. Tears form at the corners of your eyes as you feel another peak approaching. It’s debilitating. Your cunt's been teased so many times and then allowed to cum, it’s as if it doesn’t know how to deal with the oncoming climax. You clench, drawing higher and higher and higher, waiting to be dropped down to your pleasure.

When you cum, it’s even more brutal than the time before. He has no consideration for your spasming body as his pace never falters, only becoming even easier for him to fuck you now with two orgasms worth of your cum to guide him.

You cry his name out, begging him to cum soon. You don’t know how much more of his savage, relentless thrusts you can take.

“P-perfect. So good.” He replies, losing himself in chasing his high. He can feel himself getting closer. And the way your pussy gets so wet and how you clench so hard around him. Gods, he’s surprised he didn’t cum with you. He has always prided himself on his ability to last, though. “W-won’t - fuck - won’t be long. Want to cum in this cunt.”

Fucking please, you think. You want to feel him fill you in the only way he hasn’t yet.

His movements begin to falter ever-so-slightly, so you know he means it when he says he’s close. He tries to get a few more good, deep thrusts into you before he cums. He lasts for maybe five or six more.

Everything about him is big and excessive. Big hands, broad shoulders, big cock. And even his fucking load is huge. He pushes into you as he spurts his cum, feeling it drip down his cock and drilling it back into you as he tries to keep fucking you while he cums.

He sounds so good moaning in your ear, louder than he’s been moaning this entire time. The noises he makes are gorgeous - low, husky groans right next to you.

He drops his hips down, but even still half his length is still buried inside you. You feel his cum leak out of you, probably mixed with some of your own wetness. And he, in turn, feels it run down his cock, dripping down onto his balls.

You’re both left breathless and completely exhausted. He rests on the chair, one of his arms still haphazardly thrown around you, the other hanging over the arm of the throne. You lie on top of him, still curling your upper body to huddle into the warmth of his chest.

He clears his throat. “I must confess something." He begins. You lift your head up slightly to look at him. The sweat gleams on his forehead, dripping down from his temples. "I have heard the demands of the Gods. And they demand a queen for Kattegat.”

Your eyes go wide, not that he can see.

“So,” he sweeps the hand on your back upwards, coming to hold your face as he asks you one final question. “How would you like to be Queen?”

#Bjorn ironside x reader #Bjorn ironside x you #Bjorn x reader #Bjorn x you #Bjorn ironside #smut #Bjorn fanfiction #vikings fanfiction

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bitchlessdino · 3 years ago

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l.j.h. ; pet play

“pet play” (pet·play)

a form of roleplay where at least one participant plays the part of a non-human animal.

Pairing: fem!readerXboyfriend!jihoon

Genre:smut

Word count: 1.2K

BEWARE OF: dom!jihoon, sub!reader, kitty!reader, spanking, master kink, doggy style, hair pulling, pet names, lingerie, tailed anal plug, light anal play

Series Masterlist

author note: I decided to save this one for last. I thought it’d be one of the most ironic since Jihoon was one of the biggest objectors of the tiger agenda, but that's what makes it so interesting. Imagine Jihoon on a day-to-day clowning Hosh for his obsessions with tiger and moonlights savagely fucking his girlfriend while she’s dressed another animal. That is hot as fuck. I’m not exactly sure what’s coming next after this since I have so many projects started and planned but we’ll have to wait and see. enjoy the last chapter of fetish guys.

Your friends always wondered what drew you to date your current boyfriend now. Jihoon was undeniably a charming guy but he was just so different from men you’ve dated in the past. They’ve always been more outgoing and outspoken, while Jihoon is purposely more reserved and spoke when he felt it was necessary. He was a very practical man, they’d like to say.

Of course, being the person he decided to be exclusive with, you notice things that they didn’t, like the way his triceps looked in a black tee and his arms crossed. Or how his veins would bulge out so ferociously every time he’d pass you a coke from the fridge, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander at the thought of those arms on your body, touching you and making you feel pure ecstasy. In contrast to his soft features that everyone sees when they first meet him, Jihoon was anything but soft in bed. No one was going to ever be satisfied with your answer of the truth about your attraction to Jihoon, but to you, that didn’t matter. Jihoon was all you needed.

“Kitten? You’re home already?”

You were welcomed into his strong arms and inhaled the lingering scent of his body wash. “I didn't want to be there for so long. I missed you.”

“Did you miss me or were you just excited to see what was in the package I bought for you?” He asked knowingly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You let out a light chortle. “Well, that was just another reason to come home.”

He matched your smile. “Come with me, kitten.”

He guided you to the nicely curated box that was flashy with a big bow on top. He nudged you to open, in which you obliged. Careful to not ruin the wrapping, you unraveled the gift to reveal the beautiful red lingerie underneath. It was a lacy multiple-piece set that came with a choker and matching furry red ears. You gazed at the beauty of the beautifully crafted fabric, bringing it up into the light. “I love it. This matches something else I have on right now.”

Jihoon raised a brow at you as you revealed the secret you hid under your pants, pulling them down for him to see the flaming red tail that stuck out between your ass cheeks.

“Did you have this inside you all day?” He asked, eyes locked on your tailed behind, running it between his fingers, “Was my kitten always such a little tease?”

“I know you love to see, master.” You planted a kiss against his quivering lips

His hand cupped your cheek, running it up into your hair, his tongue entangling with yours before you pulled away. Your eyes locked with his, playfully tickling your nose with him, making Jihoon smile at the intimacy. “What I’d love to see more is you wearing my present before I ruin it.”

Jihoon had you eating in the palm of his hand, and you took that literally. Letting the red lacy mesh hug your curves and ridges like a glove, you fed on his hand, landing his fingers on his tongue and closing them around your lips. Your boyfriend poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, feeling empowered by your compliance. You swallowed him knuckles deep, your eyes glued to his exposed upper body as he palmed himself over his briefs.

“You look so beautiful, kitten. I could just get off at how you look eating out my hand.”

He reached up to stroke your hair and then your beautifully crafted cat ears, your moans traveling up your throat and out of your lips. “I love when you pet me, master.”

“Then how would you like it if I pet you while I take you from behind.” He spoke provokingly delicate.

“I’d love that even more, master.”

He twirled your tail between his fingers, softly tugging at your grip, causing your teeth to dig into your bottom lip. You purred into the covers, feeling the resistance of your tight ass get challenged by his harsh hand. “Mmh, wow. Thank you for playing with me, master.”

His digits trailed along your exposed pussy of your open crotch panties, coating them in your fluids as he kissed up your back. “I barely did anything and you’re already so wet, Kitten.”

“All I could think about it as you fucking me all day, master.” Your breaths were uneven as you thrust back into his fingers.

His lips reached your earlobe, the outline of his erection teased your entrance. His feverish breaths ticked your ear, as shivers ran down your spine. You could feel his smile in his tone as he commanded you, “Arch your back for me more, Kitten.”

You obliged, only to have his cock penetrate your warm, giving cunt once you did. He fucked you raw and hard. You gasped at the impact as he landed every slam, the dinging of your choker’s bell resonating in your ears. Jihoon loved how your tight pussy got tighter as you swallowed around him, or how you’d flinch as he landed every smack to your plump ass. He loved it more seeing how you enjoyed it as much as he did with an unearthly moan leaving your lips.

“Mmh, that hurts so good, master.” You whimpered, pleased.

“You’re so pretty, Kitten. Your pussy was just made for cock, wasn’t it?”

He groaned as you pushed your weight against him, his full length getting swallowed completely before his eyes could comprehend it, “Fuck…”

“I’m sorry. Did I get greedy, master?”

“Not at all kitten. In fact, I’m the one who's gonna get a bit greedy.” He grabbed you by your hair,

your head following its path.

You took a sharp breath, rolling your eyes as your tail tickled his lower torso, only turning Jihoon on more. His hand moved from your hair back to that tail, pulling and tugging strategically as he rocked inside, hitting your core over made over again. Your mouth salivated, drool dripping from your stuck out tongue. “Cum inside me master, I want to be filled with you so bad.”

“You always get first dibs, Kitten, you know that.” He insisted.

“Yes master, but I feel myself close. Please cum inside me,” you whined.

JIhoon chuckled smugly. “Then we can do it at the same time, Kitten.”

You nodded, grinning a manic smile as you got lost in your euphoria, getting desperately closer to your orgasm before Jihoon filled inside you deep inside with his milky proof of pleasure. He had enough to leak from out of your cunt, dripping from the fabric of the sheets. Your body dropped, relaxing between the sheets, while your boyfriend collapsed to your side as his cock slipped out. Your tired cunt poured the mixture of both your cum in a pool on the shared bed but did not give a second thought about the filth you laid in.

“You were amazing, Kitten.” Jihoon sighed in contentment, stroking your hair adoringly.

You grinned at the display of affection, suddenly remembering something that was brought up today. “You know what’s funny?”

“What’s that, kitten,” He mused.

“My friends asked about our sex life.”

He groaned, shoving his face in your bare chest as you laughed at his embarrassment. “You didn’t say anything, did you?’

“No, of course not. That’s none of their business.” You reassured.

He sighed a breath of relief. “Thank god. If the king of furries himself found out, he would not let me hear the end of it. Maybe make me join his cult or something.”

#Lee Jihoon #woozi #woozi smut #lee jihoon smut #seventeen woozi #seventeen lee jihoon #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #lee jihoon fanfic #woozi fanfic #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #lee jihoon imagines #lee jihoon scenarios

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years ago

Text

De(railed) +18

Summary: The canon episode "Derailed" reimagined where Reader is sent on the solo interview and Spencer, recklessly, decides to save her. Plus, the aftermath.

CW: mommy kink sub! Spencer x dom! female (she/her) reader, cum play, penetrative sex, light degradation, praise kink, light choking (mentioned), edging, calling him a slut (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 6 K (this is the longest thing I've ever written!)

Author's Note: Special thank you to @shemarmooresfedora for reading this for me because I was very nervous about the smut portion. And a very special thank you to @notanotherreidgirl for inspiring this idea! this was my ask so yeah, this is a little out there for me so be kind (*dips into the shadows*). Also I either really hate or really love this title :)

Taglist: You can join the taglist here!

De(railed)

Sitting on the train, headed towards Virginia for the custodial interview, you tried to remind yourself what Spencer said to you the previous night when you dropped him off at his apartment. You had his hands in yours and you could feel him shake with nerves when he spoke.

He told you that he believes in you. Even when you think that Hotch and Gideon are sending you out to the solo interview too early, Spencer believes in you. If only you’d believe a little bit in yourself, then maybe you’d be able to figure out a way off this train, but an armed man and innocent passengers proves that a little challenging.

The man passes the train up and down and you tell yourself to relax. In hindsight, it seems like a horrible series of events that lead to the man shooting the train attendant. You’ve done your best to keep him calm until the police can see him off the train. Looking outside, you see SWAT, local PD, and FBI lined up 50 yards from the train.

Continuing to wave his gun around the train, the unsub rants about wanting to talk to a higher authority. To yourself, to wish that Spencer was here with you. He’d have figured out exactly what was wrong with the man by now. For less than professional reasons, you’re forever grateful that he’s not here- that he’s safe on the other side of the train.

“He’s out of his mind,” the man holding a bottle of whiskey says, “You gotta do something, lady,” he says, taking a swig of his drink. Your eyes dart to him and back up the doctor, the unsub’s psychologist, looking for a way out.

You breathe deeply, hoping that the BAU would come up with a plan. Knowing FBI protocol, you expect them to try to initiate a line of communication. Glancing over at the unsub, you think that he’ll want to talk to someone who looks like they are powerful. That would be either Hotch or Gideon. Selfishly, you’re grateful that Spencer still looks like an underpaid TA with a toy gun attached at his hip.

“No! Please, don’t hurt me!” the young woman screams, trying to release herself from the man, Ted’s, grip. He releases her, throwing her to the ground when his phone rings.

Gideon.

On the phone with Gideon, the man demands for something to be removed. You can’t hear what he’s saying to the unsub, but you place the little faith you have left into hoping your team can save you.

***

His vest is much too big for him.

That’s all you can think of when you realize Spencer is the “technician” that they’re sending in. His tie and shirt stick awkwardly and there is a gap in his shoulders around the vest. The straps are pulled so tight that they nearly fold over. His hands aren’t shaking when he carries the small black box, but his eyes look terrified.

You want to reach out to him, maybe hold his hand or brush the strands of hair that have fallen into his face, but you can’t. You have to sit there and pretend that this is the first time you’ve met him. It’s excruciatingly sick and mildly amusing in an equally twisted way. The first time you’ve come to terms with loving Spencer, you both can very well die.

“I’m here for the chip,” Spencer says, holding his hands up, “the higher authorities sent me,” he claims, feeding into the unsubs delusion. You shield your glance, unable to trust yourself from launching yourself in between Spencer and the man with the gun.

“That’s far enough and drop your weapons,” Ted says, holding the crying woman by her neck, “and take that vest off. I want to see you,”

“I don’t have any weapons. They don’t authorize them for-”

“I said take it off!” the man shouts, throwing the woman to the ground.

Spencer complies, taking off the much too big vest and tossing it to the ground. He holds his hands up, playing the part of the unsuspecting underling well. He reaches out to Ted, showing him the tools that he’ll use to take out the “chip”. You wonder how Spencer will pull it off, but you know he will in the end.

Spencer digs into the man’s skin with the scalpel. You can’t catch the sleight of hand, but you know that’s what he used.

“I have to leave, the higher authorities need the chip-”

“Turn it on,” Ted orders, “Turn it on!” he screams, his voice booming in the small train.

Spencer’s eyes dart to yours thinking of ways that he can get out of here. He looks almost sorry, and you feel a wave of intense regret. The thousands of times you could have said those little words seem so simple now.

“I can’t turn it on,” Spencer says, “I can’t turn it on,” You hate how scared he sounds, and you hate even more how you have to pretend that you don’t know him.

“Why!” the unsub yells, thrashing the gun around, “You’re one of them!”

Thinking quickly when you see him point the gun at Spencer’s face, you jump to your feet. You push Spencer out of the way, terrified that he’ll do something rash. You can’t lose Spencer, not when you’ve hadn’t had the chance to have him yet.

“It needs to be implanted to be activated,” you say, “I know this stuff Ted, I’m a Fed. Only me. Everyone else,Ted is just innocent. Just let them go, Ted,” you plead, “Just let them go,”

“No!” he yells, shooting up into the ceiling of the train, “no!”

The windows are closed, but you suspect that Hotch and Gideon have the train surrounded by now. Spencer moves closer to you, staring at the man as he scratches his upper arm. He drops his hand towards yours and squeezes, like he’s saying sorry and saying goodbye all in one touch. You don’t realize this before it’s too late.

“Doctor Brier,” Spencer says, standing up with his hands near his head, “you’re right, there’s more-”

“Just make it stop!” the desperate man pleas, “Make it stop!”

“I know what it’s like, Ted. The voices, they’ve been talking to you since you were a kid. They don’t stop. I know what it’s like Ted,” Spencer says, inching closer and closer to him, “Leo? Why don’t you let him think for himself?” Spencer says, trying to use the man’s delusion against him.

“Don’t! Stop, you’re trying to trick me!” the man begs, whipping the gun around too close to Spencer’s face, “stop!”

You always listen to Spencer. Whatever he talks about, you listen. From Russian cinema to Star Trek to the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture, you listen to him. It’s not that hard and it’s easy to get lost in his eyes or the way his hands move when he talks. But the seconds leading up to when the gunshot goes off, you’re not listening.

Because without Spencer, there isn’t much worth listening to.

***

Your eyes are squeezed shut so when a large hand hovers over your shoulder you jump at the touch. It takes you all of ten seconds to realize it’s Spencer. You look him over, searching for signs of mortal wounds that will rip him from your clutches, but there isn’t any.

“You’re okay,” you say, wanting nothing more but to kiss him or yell at him, or maybe a mix of the two, “you’re okay,” you repeat, not fully believing it the first time.

“We’re okay,” Spencer says, hugging you tight as you collapse into his arms, not caring if the rest of the team watches.

“I haven’t been fair to you, Spence,” you say, breaking from the hug to caress his face. You stop, holding his face in your hands, soaking him in, “you’re not someone who gets strung along, baby. I fucking love you and you-you mean so much to me. And I hate-I hate that it took you almost dying for me to realize that,” you cry, unable to care anymore.

“You love me?” Spencer whispers, unable, himself to care that they have an audience, “You love me back, but I’m, I-I,”

“Spencer,” you tell him, pausing to kiss him fully, “I,” you plant another kiss, on his right cheek, “love,” left cheek, “you,” forehead.

“You do, don’t you?” he says, looking at you with a proud smirk, “I guess that’s good because, I love you, Y/N. I don’t go risk my life just for everyone,”

“Watch yourself, baby,” you remind him, channeling the surge of pure life that runs through your veins, “you’re in for it later, my darling,” you tell him, whispering into his ear so only he can hear.

***

You didn’t even give him time to breathe before you pushed him up against the wall. Spencer’s hands still held yours, you don’t think that he dropped them since you two safely exited the train. He whimpers through the kiss, his breathy moan only serving to spur you on. His hands broke from yours, clinging to your waist. Spencer tries to peel your clothes from your skin, but he's much too distracted by your lips that travel across his cheekbones and down to his neck. He’s breathless and panting, but you don’t let up. If he’s breathing, he’s alive and that’s all that matters now.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” Spencer pleads, the desperation in his voice causing you to pause from your attack on his neck, “I-I, Y/N,” he stutters, feeling empty without your kisses.

“I’m not mad, sweet boy. I’m not mad at you,” you say, laying on a sweet voice as your fingers skim through Spencer’s hair. He’s shaking slightly and closes his eyes, looking like he’s grateful to be alive.

“You’re not, but I wasn’t good,” he whispers, “I wasn’t good for you, Mommy,”

You do everything in your power to keep your composure, but after a day like today, you’re ready to melt into him. He might be the one begging at your feet soon, but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s you who's wrapped around his finger. He looks up at you, with his back leaning against the wall; his face flushed pink and marks littering his neck.

“You scared me, Spence. I thought- I just let me take care of you,” you request, dropping your hands from his hair and grabbing onto his hand as you lead him to your bedroom. You’ve made it a habit to go to your place after cases; Spencer claims that the sunlight that dips into your bedroom in the morning is more pleasant than his view of the street, but you know he just prefers your bed and the attention he gets at your place.

“Please, Y/N,” he begs, following you into the bedroom. He’s at your heels and burrowed deeply in your heart, exactly where you want him.

You drop his hands, guiding him so his knees hit the edge of your plush bed. He kicks off his shoes and starts to undo his tie and shirt, but you stop him before he gets the chance.

“Let me do that for you, baby. I’m taking care of you tonight,” you say, feeling your heart swell as he looks up at you adoringly, “Mommy’s got you, my brave boy,” you tell him, your fingers grazing over his cheekbones, his nose and eyes. His eyes close as you continue to draw shapeless shapes over his skin.

“Thank you,” he mutters, saying it like a pray as he relaxes for the first time today, “thank you, Mommy,”

You smile at the name, enjoying how pliant he is as you unbutton his shirt and loosen his tie. His flushed cheeks lead down his equally flushed chest. You place both your legs over his body, hovering over him as you straddle him. The proximity eggs him on and the minimal friction near his pants causes him to buck up words. Mercilessly, you chuckle at his attempt to get off. You want nothing more than to put him out of his misery, but watching him squirm for the tiniest bit of affection— your affection makes you nearly as desperate as Spencer.

“Patience, sweetheart,” you tell him, harshly pulling off his shirt as you nibble on his ear. He whimpers out in desire, already unable to form coherent thoughts even though you’ve so much as kissed him.

You stop touching him, sinking down to your knees before him. Spencer looks down at you, his pupils blown and his hair messy from being pushed up against the wall. His breathing is erratic and unmeasured, but he’s heart is still beating. You smile, unafraid and not caring that it breaks character as you give his thigh a squeeze. You bring his hands to his buttons, motioning for him to unbutton his pants for you.

“I can’t do all the work now, can I, baby?” You question rhetorically, quite self satisfied that he nods eagerly. He quickly undoes his pants, kicking the heavy corduroy trousers near your bathroom door. If the moment wasn’t so tense and erratic, you probably would have teased him for his excitement.

“I want to touch you, please? Mommy” Spencer starts, his hands holding your face as you kneel. He holds your face so delicately and gently, it’s a contrast to the sinful way he’s squirming above you.

“Not yet,” you tsk, slipping your finger under the waistband of his boxers. The bulge in his underwear looks very uncomfortable, but Spencer clearly tries his best to behave under your strong stare. You peel back the underwear and let it drop to Spencer’s feet. His cock, now exposed, is painfully hard. He concentrates on his breathing and trying to remain composed as your fingers travel up his leg and towards his groin.

“There’s my pretty boy,” you coo, grabbing Spencer’s jaw and making him look down at you. He lets pitiful whine at your words, “Come on, make my fingers nice and wet,” you order, sticking out two fingers that he sucks enthusiastically.

“What a good little slut I have, you’re sucking Mommy’s fingers just as if it’s my strap, aren’t you sweet boy,” you say, gently resting your other palm loosely around his neck. You don’t apply any pressure, but let it serve as a reminder of what could happen.

Happily, Spencer sucks your fingers, moaning around them and bucking his hips up in frustration. Marred by impatience, you remove your fingers from his mouth and kneel back down on the floor. Loosely, you grip his cock with your wet fingers. Spencer whines at the friction that’s nothing close to enough.

“Tell me how that feels,” you demand, “Tell Mommy how I makes you feel,”

“I-I feel,” Spencer starts, concentrating intently, but unable to truly articulate the passion you ignite in him, “Mommy, you make me feel so good,” Spencer says, finally finding the words, even though they barely scratch the surface.

“That’s all I want, baby. You deserve to feel good. So let me take care of you, my love,” you tell him, watching as he simpers at your words.

For a second there you let yourself think that maybe it’s calling him my love that prompted his reaction, not the promise of his cock in your mouth. You know after tonight there’s no tip toeing around it anymore: you’re unequivocally in love with him and you’re a little disappointed that it took the pair of you nearly dying to figure it out finally.

Looking back up at him, you abandon your plans for a moment. You kiss him hard. Normally, you’d hate the way your teeth clash against someone else’s and how the kiss isn’t really a kiss. It’s hard to pace yourself when he’s whimpering below you as you grind down hard on his crotch. The fabric of your pants provides much needed friction, causing Spencer to cry out in a twisted mix of pleasure and pain. He paws at your work short, silently begging for you to shed your layers as well.

“Good boys wait,” you tell him, kissing his forehead and sinking back down for the last time. You’ll never be done teasing him, but for now you intend to put his needs first.

“Such a pretty cock that only I get to see,” you coo, running a finger up his length, relishing in how he shudders at your touch. You’ve touched him so many times, yet he reacts each time as if it’s the first. He’s leaking precum as his breathing becomes more and more strained. This is far from your first time with Spencer and you’re well aware of the signs of his release.

Smiling up at him, you lazily wrap your hand around him, giving him the smallest bit of friction and attention that he needs to come. You drop him once he’s close to the edge, his pleading, begging eyes turning glazed over when he realizes you’re taking off your shirt. By the way he’s looking at you, you’d think you’d be wearing your best lingerie. Quickly, you’ve learned that with Spencer you could be wearing your ratty college tee shirts and he’d still look at you like you were dripping in gold.

“Mommy,” he pleads, “I’m a good boy,” he says, no trying to convince himself to hold back from his release, “please Mommy. I’m gonna-“ Spencer says, the flush on his face deepening as he throws his head back in ecstasy. However, he summons enough energy and will to reach out and palm your boobs. You don’t hide your moans as he rolls a nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger. It only encourages him, but nowhere can you find in yourself to care.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Spencer whimpers, unable to hold himself up anymore and collapsing on the bed. His chest heaves up and down as he tries to collect himself. He comes all over your chest, staining your lavender bralette and looking very proud of himself. Spencer learned quickly as well that coming before you’ve even touched him earns him quite the praise.

“Such a good boy,” you praise, choosing to ignore him coming without permission, “such a messy boy though,” you chastise, squeezing his thigh and crawling your fingers up his chest.

“Mommy, please, I want to make you feel good too. I love you,” Spencer begs, his eyes droopy with exhaustion from the long day and glazed over with his orgasm. His words slur together as if he's drunk off something potent. His eyes meet yours, but flit down quickly. He scans your soiled chest, licking his lips unconsciously as his eyes rank over your breasts covered in the lavender lacy and stained with his cum.

“Do you know what good boys do?” You ask, expecting Spencer to answer the question without hesitation.

“They clean up their mess, Mommy,” he says. In a moment of bravery, he grabs your hand, guiding you to lay down on the bed. He twists his hands around your back, unlatching your bra from your body and tosses it on the ground.

Above you, Spencer lowers his face so his chin barely grazes your chest. His tongue darts out onto your skin, licking up the messy cum that fell on your chest. You place your hands in his hair, gripping firmly. It’s not hard enough to cause any pain, but it’s tight enough to remind him to stay put. Spencer hums contently, lapping up your chest, but keeping his eyes trained on yours. You pull him up by his hair, pieces fall over his blissed out eyes. He smiles up at you, his chin glistening with cum, but looking pleased with himself.

“That’s a good boy,” you praise, pulling him up to kiss him deeply. His tongue swirls around in yours and his large hands cup your face. You can feel him moving in your lap, more and more desperate for attention and friction as you continue to hold him off, “I love you, baby,” you say, hoping that he’ll hear enough times for it to stick and for him to start living his life like he wants to stay alive.

“Just for you, Mommy,” Spencer mumbles, already sucking and marking the valley between your breasts, “Can you? Please?” Spencer asks, still embarrassed, after all these months to put to words his desires.

“What, baby? You need to use your words,” you tell him, scooting up in the bed and smirking to yourself as Spencer practically chases you up the headboard, “You need to tell him what you want me to do, baby,” you say, talking slowly as you rub circles into his skin. He’s still hot to the touch and flushed all over.

“I want to make you feel good,” Spencer begs, licking his fiery red lips that are swollen and bitten from your earlier treatment, “I want you to feel good,” he says, attempting to buck his hips against your legs.

“Are you sure about that, Spence?” you ask, teasing him with your wandering hands. One stays latching in his hair, exposing his criminally bare neck and the other sneaks down to his cock, but hardly satisfies his burning need, “Because it seems like you’re an insolent little slut who only cares if he gets off. Do I need to remind you that I have needs as well,” you chide, increasing your grip on his hair as your lips nip the sensitive skin of his neck. He shudders in response, unable to fully articulate a sentence.

“But you’re lucky, you’re beautiful, Dr. Reid,” you say, dropping his hair and letting his head fall onto your chest. Knowing your expectations, Spencer doesn’t hesitate to kiss and nip along your skin. You feel your panties dampen at the sight of him: his hair wild and messy, his neck marked with evidence of your mouth, and his chest is bright red, somehow still flustered and embarrassed by your affections. You find it bizarre that he still doesn’t fully believe just how head over heels you are for him. He’s too good and pure for this world, and you’ll happily spend the rest of your life reminding him just how deserving of goodness and pureness he is.

“I love you,” Spencer whimpers against your skin, his breath is hot as he pants, “but please fuck me,” he begs, flipping around on his back so you can be on top.

“Don’t worry, sweet boy, Mommy will take care of you,” you remind him, balancing yourself so you can hover over him, “Now, I’d normally want you to be quiet, but I want to hear everything. So use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me how you feel, sweetie,” you instruct, maneuvering yourself so you’re lined up with him.

“Give me a second, please,” Spencer asks, pushing himself up so his back rests against the headboard, “You make me crazy, I just need a moment to think,” he says, quietly, staring off nothing in the bedroom. You take the opportunity to grab his hand, that’s gripping onto your floral patterned sheets, and kiss his scars on his knuckles. Some are new and fresh, while others are old, from longer ago than working at the BAU. You kiss them over, as if your lips are able to help the evidence of his physical pain.

“You make me crazy too, Spencer,” You say, growing more and more unhinged as he moves underneath you, “I love you so much, darling,” you tell him, kissing his eyes, lips, nose, anything you can reach.

Slowly, so slowly, you sink down onto Spencer. You watch his microexpressions, but you know how he’ll react. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s willing himself to hold off. He breathes in and out, teetering on the edge. You wait for his nod, for his sign of approval that you can move. He whines and peeks open his eyes. Spencer’s hands dig into your waist, his strong, large hands searching for any skin to grab onto.

“Please move, Mommy,” Spencer begs, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he starts to plead with you to have mercy on him, “I need it, Mommy,” he moans.

“Don’t be greedy, darling. You’ll take what I give you, but don’t you want to make me feel good too, baby,” you ask, guiding his nimble fingers to your slick core. His thumb and pointer finger begin to rub quick circles around your clit. You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure as you feel the pressure build. Between the heightened tensions of work and Spencer's hot breath against your neck, you know that you’ll come soon. Spencer’s breathy moans get more and more desperate.

“Are you already going to come again, love?” You ask, increasing your pace. His other hand grips your thigh, drawing shapes into your soft skin. Following suit, you match his sweet movements on his cheek. His breath is his shaky as you stroke his cheek lovingly, “Make me come first and then, maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you come inside me,” you promise, already knowing that you’ll let him come inside you.

“Watch you disappear inside me, baby. Watch your pretty cock slip inside my pussy. It’s just like you were made for me, darling,” you cry, your voice getting slightly breathy yourself. You watch yourself as his cock goes in and out, red with overstimulation. Spencer’s eyes, littered with small tears, looks transfixed.

“Fuck,” Spencer says, “I’m so close, Mommy. I-I, you make me feel so good. You’re so beautiful, I-I-”

“So needy, you’re so fucking needy,” you say to him. You can tell he’s growing more and more impatient by the moment. His hands lurch towards your chest, pawing at your boobs. Spencer’s sloppy movements bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“So good, so good,” he repeats, his sweaty forehead rests on your collarbone. You pull him up again his hair, relishing in the pitiful moan that he lets out. It’s raw and pure sin, it should make you want to fuck him more, but it only makes you want to love him more.

You’re drunk on him. Drunk on his moans and whimpers of pleasure. You’re drunk on the way his skin sticks to yours and how his hands roam around your body, always finding a spot on your torso and legs that makes you approach the edge closer and closer. You wonder, for a second, if you’re being too hard on him. If you should just whisper that little sentence and let Spencer feel the wave of pleasure.

“I need it, Mommy,” Spencer pants, kissing lined up your chest and collarbone. His face is pressed up against your face and moves up and down as you continue your pace, “I-I, Mommy, I want you to-”

“What do you want, baby? Hmm? Tell Mommy?” You ask, your voice sounding sickly sweet. The noise of moans fills the room, Spencer’s moan akin to whimpers and whines and your’s more like praises and words of approval, “you’ve been such a good boy, baby I’ll give you want whatever you want, my love”

“Please, please let me make you come, Mommy. I need you to come, Mommy. I need it,” Spencer whines, looking up into your eyes and latching onto them in the darkness.

It’s sinful how the filthy words contrast with his sweet, shy tones. He looks so innocent, but enthralling with his face between your hands, but his own hands rubbing small circles on your clit. His moans grow more high pitched. You kiss by his ear, ready to whisper the words of approval that you’ve neared your release.

“Oh god, Spencer. God. You have no idea what you do to me. My sweet boy,” you murmur, pressing Spencer’s face further into your chest. You can feel him heave and his breathing grow more and more unsteady, but he still has enough sense to continue rubbing your clit.

You kiss him, wanting to feel him everywhere when you come undone. Kissing him is desperate and full of gasps of air. His skin is so soft as you slide across his mouth, up his cheeks, and over his jaw. His helpless moans spur you on, giving you the strength and energy to thrust down on him another time before you feel yourself come undone.

“It’s your turn, baby. Come on, sweetheart. Come inside me and maybe I’ll have to call you daddy? Hmm?” you chant, halting your movements to torture him a little longer.

“Please, Y/N. Please let me fill you up,” Spencer begs, his voice hoarse and scratchy from being so vocal, “I’m yours. I love you so much,” he calls out, wrapping his arms around you so your chests are pressed up together. He holds you sweetly and you kiss his shoulders and his neck, choosing to leave a large red welt as a reminder for him.

“You like that? Hmm you like if I call you Daddy and let you fill me up? Come on, Spencer. You can come. Don’t you want to be a good boy for Mommy?,” you say, giving him the permission that he’s been desiring all night.

He tightens his grip on your upper half as he meets his release. Spencer’s strangled moans turn into sweet whimpers as he looks down into your laps. Quietly, you ride him through the rest of his orgasm, letting him come down from his high peppered with light pecks along his freckled shoulders and sharp jawline. Spencer smiles into the kisses, his eyes are shut and his cheeks are dusted with a light pink flush. For the first time today, he looks relaxed and safe.

“Thank you, Mommy,” Spencer says quietly, mirroring your motions and kissing your shoulders and neck as you slow your pace, “Can we stay like this. Just for a moment,” Spencer asks, burning for the feeling of being inside you for even a couple more minutes.

“Of course, baby,” you tell him, squeezing him into a tight hug, “you did so wonderful for me. Such a good boy. I love my sweet boy,” you tell him, brushing the stray hairs from his face. His neck is marked by your mouth and his eyes are glazed with sleep and desire.

“I love you,” Spencer says again, his forehead falling against yours and his breath hitching as you move slightly with him inside you, “and I’m sorry. I’m sorry about today,”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart and then we’ll talk about it,” you suggest, taking the opportunity to kiss his lips as you pull yourself away from his lap.

Spencer doesn’t say much in response, but nods silently. He groans slightly as you separate your bodies and he tries to chase your lips with his as you climb out of the bed and into your bathroom.

“Please come back,” Spencer says, sounding like he wasn’t sure if you’d keep your promise.

“I’m right here, Spence,” you reassure him, returning from the bathroom dressed in an old tee shirt and carrying a warm, damp washcloth and a pair of clean underwear for Spencer.

“Can you please hold me? Please, Y/N. I need you,” Spencer says, reaching out to you in the dark. That’s one request you know you’d never deny.

“Of course, Spence. Just let me clean you up and I’ll hold you,” you tell him, gently dragging the warm towel over his skin. He’s quiet as you clean him up, but his soulful eyes look lost and sheepish, making him look smaller and more vulnerable than he actually is. You drop the towel to the floor, not caring that the water isn’t good for the floor.

You lay back down on the bed and Spencer, like a magnet to another magnet, crawls in close. He’s still undressed, except for the underwear that you gave him. His eyes are droopy and his breathing is still shaky, but steadies out as your hands draw circles on his back. You pull the covers up to his chin, making sure he’s covered before you start what you know all too well is a difficult conversation.

“Spencer,” you croak, “Why did you do that? Why do you think that’s okay?” you ask, still trying to make sense of why Spencer would risk his life like that so recklessly. You hold him tighter, squeezing his arm as he breathes out, ready to tell you what he’s never told anyone before.

“Bec-, because- I don’t matter,” he says, the words choking out between cries of years and years of pain, “because it doesn’t matter to anyone if I don’t come home. I don’t have anyone to come home to,”

“You’ve always had me,” you say quietly, “I’m your person to come home with, Spence,” you tell him, hoping with all the faith in your body that he’ll believe you. You hold his hand, weaving your fingers in his. Looking at your hands intertwined together, you’d think that your hand was made for it. It’s a little cliche, but Spencer is the kind of man that makes all those cliches seem like wonderful possibilities.

“I-I, I never had someone before,” Spencer says, “I mean, I had my mom, but it’s gotten harder. But then, then, I met you. And I never thought you’d like me like that, Y/N. I never thought you could love me,”

“Spencer,” you say, twisting around so you can hold his face in your hands, “Spencer, I love you. You are so much more than your job. You’re worthy of being loved, Goose. And I’d spend the rest of my life making you realize this”

“You want to spend the rest of your life- the rest of your life with me?” Spencer asks, sounding like he can’t believe the words that you say.

“Spence, I’ve loved you since I’ve known you,” you say, dragging your hands through his curly hair that’s matted against his forehead, “You would have realized that if you weren’t too carried away with making me your future history,”

“I think I have a habit of doing that,” Spencer confesses, kissing your forehead sweetly, “You’re- I’m sorry that I worried you like that, but for so long, for so long this is all I’ve had. And before that it was school. I throw myself into academia or work because it’s all I had,”

“Had,” you repeat, “as in the past tense. You’ve had some much more than too, Spence. We all love you. Elle and Derek. JJ and Hotch. Penny and Gideon. We all love you, but I love you the most,”

“Good,” Spencer replies, turning his head down to kiss you, “because I love you the most,”

His lips glide across yours, moving slowly at first and faster as he grows more urgent. There’s no sense in rushing through. You could kiss him lazily in your bed all night and continue until it gives way to morning. There’s no time limit, no buzzer that’s going to go off and force Spencer to whole himself back up into his past. He smiles through the kiss, knowing well that there’s more to come tomorrow, or maybe even tonight. His lips were warm and soft, maybe still a little tender from before, but still eager to feel your lips against his. Breathing together, savoring that you both are breathing, you smile yourself, fully ready for whatever comes next.

***

Taglist (not my usual taglist because I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable bc this is smut. You can join the taglist here!)

@shemarmooresfedora @just-another-persona123 @folkreid @idonotexiste @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @fandomfriend33 @spencersrose @strawberryspence

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #no minors #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut fic #spencer reid x fem reader #sub spencer reid #derailed #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #no minors please

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

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𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑆𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐷𝑖𝑙𝑓!𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧 (𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑)

Warnings/Disclaimer: NSFW content/Older Ateez but age differences is written withing legal boundaries. Also mentions of infidelity (which I don't condone, justify nor encourage), corruption kink and loss of virginity.

A/N: Also, Yeosang's reaction is a sneak peek at the Dilf! Fic in my w.i.p.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

It all started as a way to get a passing grade for the semester, but soon became a mission to get inside your professor's pants. You still remembered the unamused gaze he gave you when you first suggested you 'help' him out.

"Nice try Miss Y/N.... but perhaps instead of wasting time behind the bleachers sucking off the jocks' cocks, maybe dip your head instead into your books and study for once."

You couldn't believe he'd actually reject you. No man had ever rejected you, they always fell to your charms. Professor Kim was about to become your biggest challenge yet and you didn't mind. Besides, something about fucking an older man had you pulling out your trusted vibrator out so many times during the night. Kim Hongjoong was just so fucking hot and you desperately wanted him, even if for one night.

"Please Mr. Kim..... you know they say I give the best blow jobs here." You tried yet again one day when everyone else left.

"They? You mean horny 20 something year olds who bust a nut by just a booby pic?"

For the first time, his poker face finally had an expression in the form of a smirk.

"Honey, you're going to have to try a lot harder than that. I've had my cock sucked by countless women in all my years. Besides..."

Leaning closer to you, he reached a hand out so his thumb could graze across your bottom lip.

"What makes you think a pretty young thing like you can take a mature cock like mine? You've probably never even had one half the size of mine."

You let out an involuntary moan as you pictured just how well endowed your teacher was. Looking down, you noticed the obvious bulge he was donning and you wanted nothing more than to pull him out and suck him dry. It seemed he noticed since he sat back down on his chair. Gesturing for you to come over, you practically hopped over to him, letting him guide you on your knees as he began to take himself out.

"But do knock yourself out. I'm kinda curious to see what the newer generations do nowadays."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Others would have complained and would be annoyed by the fact their new neighbors would have almost daily fights between them, typical marital disputes. But not you, you didn't mind hearing their screaming that was clearly heard through the walls. Especially since more often than not their fights would end in rough, angry sex that had you touching yourself at nights, a guilty pleasure you always looked forward to.

And you had been eyeing the husband from the moment the couple moved in. Park Seonghwa was everything you looked for in a man and even more. Handsome, mature, tall, well sculpted, responsible, sexy as hell and you knew for a fact he could definitely fuck. One day you knocked over at their door to give them one of them many pastries you'd often bake for your neighbors in the building.

"You know Mr. Park....if you ever get too frustrated with your wife....my door is always open." You boldly offered him.

He looked at you in shock but you sent him a reassuring wink before walking back to your apartment, making sure to sway your hips so he could have the image engraved in his mind. And boy did you rile him up. Now he couldn't stop thinking about you. You're all he had in his head. Now whenever he'd fight, he'd storm out and you'd welcome him, proud to get what his wife wasn't getting anymore. And you were hell bent on making sure you'd keep him to yourself.

"Cum inside me....fill me up." You told him one day.

He was so lost in his lust for you he didn't think he'd hear you correctly. Giggling, you flipped the position so you were now on top of him, bouncing yourself on his enormous cock.

"I'll give you what your wife won't give you. Knock me up with your babies, fill me to the brim. I wanna carry your kids in me." You ran your hands down your chest and placed them on top of your stomach to get your point further across.

Seonghwa was going wild by this point. He had wanted to become a father for so long but his narcissistic and conceited wife would not budge. Yet here you were offering him the one thing he wanted and he couldn't resist. Sitting up, he began pounding up into you with more intensity, sending you crying his name over and over again as his teeth began to mark your neck.

"Oh I'll make sure to knock you up babygirl. Gonna fuck my kids into you...fuck! You're going to look even more pretty carrying my baby in you."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Yours and Yunho's relationship was rather.... unconventional to say the least. He ended up becoming your sugar daddy after you had auctioned off your virginity online cause you were a broke college student and you honestly didn't give a damn at that point. But it was you who were in for a surprise when you met him in the hotel room and he just handed you the money without wanting anything in return.

"Just take it and don't give away something so valuable away like that."

You were so stunned by his behavior and it honestly sent some weird feeling inside you.

"But what if I wanna give it away?" You asked before he could open the door to leave. He let out a deep sigh.

"Trust me, you don't." He insisted.

Biting your lip, you took in his height and built. You weren't going to lie and pretend you didn't size him up from the moment you saw him. He probably had a monster cock that could tear you apart and part of you wanted that. Plus he was probably experienced in making love to someone so why not?

"If it's with you I really do..."

He whipped his back at your words, about to scold you but his words got caught in his mouth when you began to strip in front of him before laying down on the bed, legs spread for him and anxiously waiting for him to touch you. He couldn't resist himself. He ended up pining your tiny and virgin body under him, tearing your hymen apart and claiming you as his. He made sure you were in no pain and he had you cumming more than once. You could say it was an amazing first time.

You spent the rest of the night talking, and you ended up spilling about your economic situation. Perhaps it was pity, perhaps he was high on having taking your virginity, or perhaps he truly felt something for you. Either way you agreed to be his sugar baby, and you don't regret it one bit. Not when you get to have his monster cock in you, and he's not complaining either when he gets to stuff himself in you.

"Fuck! You're still so damn tight my little one... just like the first time."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

He tried to ignore the sound of the shower right behind the door he was leaning in. He had to. He shouldn't try to imagine what was going on in there. But as his eyes closed, he couldn't stop picturing your naked body glistening as the water cascaded down your skin. His hand grazed over his erection, wondering if perhaps you were doing something similar.

Before he knew what he was doing, he slowly and quietly opened the door, the hot steam fogging up the glass doors to the shower but he could still make out your beautiful and young figure. He witnessed as your hand played with your clit, dipping inside your folds as tiny gasps and pants escaped your lips.

"Mr. Kang...." Hearing you murmur his name sent any self-control he had out the window.

He began to strip himself out of his clothes, very slowly and in silence so as to not disturb you. Besides you looked so pretty as you touched yourself, trying to get yourself off at the thought of him. Without taking his eyes off you, he slid the glass door and soon stood behind you in the luxurious and spacious shower. You jumped slightly when you felt familiar hands wrap themselves around your waist, fingertips digging into you. You could never forget his touch, you remembered how those hands felt when they once caught you and saved you from a nasty fall.

You knew it wasn't a dream or fantasy when you felt lips pressing open mouth kisses against the side of your neck and traveled down to your shoulders. You moved your hand away to allow the person behind you to take control, his long and slender fingers finally making your darkest fantasies come true as they penetrated inside you, moving back and forth in an effort to bring you into an orgasm.

Kang Yeosang's deep and husky voice breathed into your ear, sending shivers down your body.

"You don't know how long I've lusted after you..."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

With Choi San it wasn't you seducing him. It was letting him seduce you. Ever since he saw you walk in with your short skirt, applying for a part time job at his bookstore, he had been wanting you, craved your body. And honestly... you fed him in his game.

You would wear even shorter skirts, bending down right in front of him so he could get a glimpse at your scantily clad pussy. Or you'd constantly ask him for help in putting away some of the books that went on higher shelves just so he'd put his hands around you, which he'd often keep there longer than needed. And you loved it.

One day he had been frustrated by you past his limit. Throwing away all decorum, he came up behind you as you arranged some books. You let out a gasp when you felt his hands grope your breasts.

"I've been working you too hard my darling... maybe I should let you take a little break?" You became putty in his hands when he used his satoori tone with you.

You didn't stop him when he lifted your shirt up to your neck, nor when he pulled your breasts out from your bra cups. You just moaned with no shame as his fingers tweaked and pinched at your highly sensitive nipples.

"Fuck you have really soft and squishy boobs. It's like they were made for my hands."

Snaking one hand under your skirt, he was surprised to not only find out that you were practically dripping for him but you were not wearing any underwear that day.

"Shit darling, did you came here hoping I would fuck you?"

You threw your head back as he cupped your heat, rubbing at your clit.

"Yes! Please fuck me Mr. Choi! W-wanna get fucked by you." You begged him, pushing your ass behind you to grind against his very obvious bulge.

He was more than satisfied by your answer. Finally getting your consent, he no longer had to hold back. Freeing his cock which was leaking at the tip, he pushed your skirt up to expose your ass cheeks. Giving each of them a few slaps with his cock, he teased you as he rubbed his bulbous tip along your slit.

"Now my little apprentice, I'm going to show you how a real man fucks a little cunt like yours."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Spotting exactly what you were hoping to find for the night, you approached the older male and sat in front of him. Giving you a little glance, he furrowed his eyebrows as he took in your countenance.

"Aren't you a little young to be in a club like this?" He questioned you.

"Trust me, I'm old enough." You boldly took the glass he had in front of him and took a sip before setting it back down.

He let out a tiny chuckle as you practically drowned almost an entire glass of straight vodka. You had guts, he was giving you that.

"Little lady I'm sure there are more young men your age scattered about waiting for a beauty like you to pay attention to them. So why not go find them?" He suggested.

You frowned at him, a tiny huff coming out from your lips.

"Guys my age are all idiots and little babies. Absolutely nothing fun about them."

You scooted closer to him, your hand coming down to rub at one of his ridiculous thick thighs.

"I prefer men who are more older and..... bigger." You made emphasis on that last word.

The male snorted as he let you continue your little game. He was actually pretty amused and flattered at having a young and attractive girl hit on him.

"Little lady as much as I'd love to take you back to my place and fuck you into my sheets, I'm warning you that I'm into more.... risque and exotic pleasures and honestly....I don't think an inexperienced thing like you could handle it."

The man, whom you soon found out was named Song Mingi peeked your interest even more as he confided in you that little detail. And you were more than happy to indulge in extremely naughty kinks. That's how you ended up in his bed, your hands and feet tied to each of the bed posts, blindfolded, gagged, nipple clamps adorning your perky breasts as your older lover for the night was continuing his abuse on your swollen and red pussy, drawing out orgasm after orgasm out of your body.

"Fuck! Holy shit!" He cried out, grunting in an almost animalistic manner as he pumped his cum all over your body.

Removing your blindfold and mouth gag, he looked for any signs of regret but was instead met with your fucked out face that held a tiny grin.

"Older and bigger cocks are indeed the best."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Working as an exotic dancer, you met a lot of customers and got used to having regulars. But no one got under your skin or made you lose your senses like Jung Wooyoung. Usually you didn't give any special treatment to anyone unless it guaranteed more cash in your garter belt. But there was something about him that had you constantly looking over when he was there. Every time he was watching from the crowd, you made sure every wink, every lip bite or swirl of your tongue was directed at him.

You were thinking about giving up, since weeks passed and he didn't seem to make a move on you or on any of the other girls. Perhaps he was dragged there by his friends since he always sat there idly, no expression whatsoever. When you were told someone payed to have a private show with you, the last person you expected to see was none other than Jung Wooyoung himself, sitting on the couch, a glass of wine on his hand. Pulling out a large bill, he smirked at you.

"One hundred dollars if you take off that top."

His request had your legs wobbling. Since it was a rather fancy and elegant strip club, none of you ever actually stripped completely bare, only staying in scanty lingerie. But honestly, you didn't hesitate and let the top fall to the floor. You loved the way Wooyoung was eyeing your chest, tongue poking out to wet his lip. Reaching into his pocket once more, this time he produced even more bills and layed them on the table.

"500 dollars if you remove that lace thong."

Holy crap, you thought to yourself. That was a lot of money that you weren't going to refuse. And besides, you were already wet for the older man that you would suck him off right then and there if he asked you to, with absolutely no payment. This time his hand began to rub at his crotch. Unzipping his pants, he took his long length out which had your mouth watering and staring for so long that you didn't notice the even larger stash of cash he had taken out of his jacket which layed beside him.

"One thousand dollars if you hop your pretty ass over here and bounce yourself on my cock."

Not needing to be told twice, you practically plunged yourself down on him, not caring to take your time as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. The man underneath you was enjoying himself as well, the visual of your ass clapping against his hips driving him insane.

"Fuck! Yes! Just like that- oh god!"

You let out a yelp when his hand came down to slap your cheeks rather harshly, hips taking control as he rammed his cock into you. Through raspy grunts and growls, he made his final proposition to you:

"Your own place, monthly allowance and anything else you want if you leave this place and become my own personal fuck toy."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Working as the personal assistant for your father's CEO friend was not easy. Not because Choi Jongho was difficult, scary and begrudgingly agreed to have his friend's daughter work for him when she had no experience, but because the man was hot. You had the hots for your dad's friend and knowing you would have to be by his side for 8-10 hours on the daily both thrilled and terrified you.

"Can't you even work a simple printer? Seriously? How stupid could you possibly be?"

You honestly didn't mind his constant insults and degradation. In fact...that's exactly what you wanted, even more if he did it in front of others. Truth was, you did know how to work a printer and do other office related small tasks. You just chose not to just to have him yell and scream at you. His anger further fueled your sexual desires for him.

Eventually he ended up finding out what your little plan was when he chanced upon you sending a fax for someone, something he had always refrained from teaching you cause he thought you'd be too stupid to do.

"Why you cunning little vixen." He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he saw you, angry that a little brat like you was getting under his skin just to get a reaction out of him. He felt his palm start to tremble with an urge to bend you over and spank you into place.

Which he did end up doing, among other things in an effort to get you to behave or straighten up. But it never fully worked since you kept testing his patience, and he truly didn't mind. He liked your little game and he started to look forward to having his little vixen misbehave just to put her back in her place. And you lived for having him punish and degrade you.

"Look at you. You look like a common whore, letting me fuck her little hole as much as I want to."

You whimpered as his hand pulled your hair, making you lift your head and watch from the mirror as he fucked you from behind against his dresser.

"Maybe I should take a picture and send it to your dad. Let him know that his precious daughter is nothing more than a slut that likes getting her tight little hole fucked by his best friend."

You shook at his words, tears steaming down your face from the overstimulation he was putting you through. You absolutely loved it. Loved having him remind you of how wrong and sinful it was. Pressing your back against his chest, he wrapped an arm around your throat as he pounded his cock into you like the beast he was.

"But no... I won't do that. This will be our little secret."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #dilf!ateez

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omg-imatotalmess · 4 years ago

Text

Pet Names

Hey guys! I have had the headcanon that George would turn into a puddle when you call him something sweet, and my hypothetical question got lots of positive responses. So, here I am, yet again, offering a subby boy because that’s my specialty. Hope y’all enjoy!

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Requested: No

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids!), sub!George, dom!reader, pet name kink, praise kink, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, riding, swearing

---

There was one thing about dating George Weasley that was an absolute fact: George loved pet names. Of course, you knew that to a degree. Since you started dating, it had become a rarity that he called you by your given name. You would have hated it from anyone else. Pet names typically weren't your thing, but you couldn't bring yourself to hate them when his voice dripped with sweetness. However, it never really occurred to you that he might want you to use them too. It wasn't until the two of you were lying on a couch in the Room of Requirement that you even thought about it.

Snuggled up to his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he dozed, you began to reflect on the whole pet name situation. He always had something sweet on the tip of his tongue while you only ever called him George. Georgie, if you were feeling particularly affectionate. You wondered if it bothered him that you didn't have a cute name for him. It wasn't like he'd ever asked, but sometimes he had trouble asking for things that he thought were embarrassing without joking about it. He always gave you delightfully cheesy nicknames when people were around that could easily be brushed off as joking. So maybe the embarrassment thing was the case. He just didn't exactly know how to ask.

"I can hear the wheels turning in your head, sweetheart," George said, breaking you from your musings.

"Sorry, go back to sleep," you said, nuzzling his neck affectionately.

"Wasn't sleeping before anyway. Even if I was, what goes on in that brain of yours has to be more interesting," he said. Smiling, you rolled completely on top of him so you could see him better. "Well, hello there."

"You caught me. I was thinking again," you said.

"Were you thinking about me?"

"Why, yes, in fact, I was."

"How embarrassing. Do you have a crush on me or something, love?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"You're an idiot," you said fondly. "Really, though, I wanted to ask you something." The playfulness drained from his face immediately as he adopted a more serious expression. He almost looked a little worried. Smiling, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss between his furrowed brows in an attempt to make the wrinkle go away.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No, I was just thinking about the nickname thing," you said. Your answer did nothing to relieve the expression.

"Don't you like them? I'll call you something else if you want." You shook your head.

"Actually, I was wondering if you wanted me to call you something else. Do you want cute names too?" you asked. George shifted under you, his expression morphing into one you'd become incredibly familiar with. A bright red flush bloomed over his cheeks as an almost concerningly wide grin pulled at his lips.

"Thought you'd never ask snookums!" he laughed nervously, "Here I thought you were about to let Ron and Hermione out cute us. Personally, I think you should go for something like 'the sweetest love of my life and future husband.' The whole phrase. Just to prove them that we're the cuter pair." As he rambled, you found yourself becoming more and more amused by his expert avoidance of your eyes.

"George?" Your voice was gentle but prodding, cutting his nervous speech short. Blinking, he offered another nervous laugh.

"Yes, darling, sweetness, light of my life?" he asked.

"Breathe," you said.

"Right. I'll live a lot longer if I do that," he said, pulling in a steadying breath. Smiling, you ran your fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him further.

"Now, as much as I truly do like 'the sweetest love of my life and future husband,' it's kinda a mouthful," you said.

"That's what she said," George rattled off automatically.

"Jesus, I didn't mean to fluster you so bad. I'm sorry, sunshine," you said, testing the name.

And he whimpered. It was just a soft, breathy little sound. One you would have missed if you hadn't quite literally been laying on his chest. You weren't even sure if he was aware he'd done it, but, Christ, were you happy he did. That one little sound told you so much. Not to mention the way his fingers squeezed needily at your hips and that his eyes seemed to lose focus. Suddenly, you felt like you were taking up his entire field of vision. Nothing beyond you existed. Not to him. All that for just one simple word.

"You like, sunshine?" you asked.

"I dunno if it has the same ring as, uh, as whatever it was that I said, but it's alright," he said, squirming under your penetrating gaze.

"Just alright? You want something else?" you teased.

"If you-if you think you can c-come up with something better," he stuttered.

"Okay, baby boy," you purred.

If you thought sunshine had done it for him, baby boy blew that out of the water. A shiver tore through his body right down to his fingertips as his mouth dropped open into a quiet moan. Despite the low volume, the sound echoed in your ears. It dripped with pure need. As though he couldn't go another second without you touching him. The cherry flush that bloomed high in the apples of his cheeks swooped over the tips of his ears. He was beautiful. Enticing. And you were only human. Leaning forward, you traced your tongue up the shell of his ear, biting it lightly.

"That better?" you muttered against his ear. Pulling back, you watched as George opened and closed his mouth, fishing for anything to say in response. He wasn't having much luck, just spitting out collections of sounds that didn't quite resemble words.

"Come on, baby boy, use your words," you said, cupping his cheek and rolling your thumb over his bottom lip.

"Yes." His voice cracked on the word.

"Good boy," you said, smirking like a well-fed cat, "Now, how 'bout we get you out of those clothes. I wanna see all of my pretty baby."

"Please," he breathed. Carefully, you repositioned yourself, so you had full access to his clothing. You only managed a couple of buttons before his much larger hand curled around one of yours. Before you could ask him what was wrong, he brushed a tender kiss over your knuckles.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he said. Smiling, you pulled his hand to your mouth and returned the gesture.

"I love you too," you replied.

With your hand back, you made quick work of his shirt. You pushed it open and took in the lightly freckled expanse of his chest. His skin was a swirl of cinnamon-colored constellations. You trailed your fingers across them, admiring the trail of goosebumps the left behind. George was lovely. Devastatingly so. Bringing your head down, you followed the same path your fingers had taken, stopping briefly to lap at his nipples. He whined softly at the attention, tangling his hands in your hair.

"You're so beautiful," you said.

You kissed up his chest to his lips, and he tilted his head to meet you. His lips pressed hungrily to your own. The faint taste of honey teased your senses as you dipped your tongue into his mouth. You loved that he always managed to taste sweet. Lightly, you ran your tongue over his own, savoring that elusive sweetness for as long as you could. Slipping your hand down to rub him through his pants, you were surprised to find him fully hard. Even though you'd barely touched him, he was straining against his zipper.

"(Y/N)," he whimpered against your mouth.

"I bet that's uncomfortable. You want me to take care of that, baby boy?" you asked, popping the button.

"Please. Please take care of it," he begged, bucking his hips into your hand. Without responding, you pushed his pants down to his thighs while trailing burning kisses down his torso. You pressed a kiss to each of his hip bones before wrapping your hand around his cock. Giving it a few long, slow strokes that had him bucking into your hand, you looked up at him.

"Tell me what you want," you said.

"Your mouth. Please, (Y/N)," he said quickly.

"Anything for my sweet baby boy," you said.

Slowly, you dragged your tongue from the base to the tip, paying special attention to the ridge of the head. A low moan sounded above you. You took a moment to appreciate the sound before sinking his cock into your mouth. His hips bucked, and you gagged slightly. Breathing softly through your nose, you gripped his hips tightly to keep him from doing it again. You bobbed your head slowly, running your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock.

"C'mon, don't tease," George begged, straining against your restrictive grip.

You didn't say anything but picked up the pace slightly. Removing on hand from its place on his hip, you fondled his balls and teased lightly at his perineum. His hips flexed wildly against your hand. It only took swallowing around him once before he was calling out warnings and groaning loudly into the open air. You pulled off before he could cum, ignoring the disappointed whine.

"Wanna come. Please, (Y/N), I wanna come so bad," he cried, bucking into the air looking for friction.

"I know, baby boy," you said, shimmying out of your pants. "I wanna be ridding you when you do, but you gotta prep me first. Can you do that for me? Can you finger me until I'm nice and open for you, baby boy?"

"Uh-huh," he said, fumbling for the lube that appeared on the table. Turning, you presented yourself to him, so he had better access. Gentle as always, he sunk a long finger into you.

"That's my good boy," you sighed. As he fingered you open, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the backs of your thighs. You wrapped your hand around his cock again, stroking it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. Then he curled them a bit.

"There! That's it," you mewled, rocking back against him.

"More!" He obediently added another finger.

"Am I making you feel good?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Whether it was from moaning or just from the idea that he was bringing you pleasure, you couldn't tell.

"So good," you said. You felt his cock twitch in your hand, and he shivered.

"Close," he whimpered.

"Let me sit on your pretty cock, baby boy," you purred. Almost reluctantly, he slipped his fingers from you, and you positioned yourself over him. Neither of you was interested in waiting long. Once he was fully seated inside you, you could already feel him shivering with the effort not to cum.

"Move?" It came out as a question. Both asking your permission and begging you to ride him until he was shaking with overstimulation.

Picking up your hips, you dropped them back slowly. You savored the slight burn of the stretch. Hands quickly found your hips. And then you were moving. You weren't sure if he'd thrust up into you or if you'd started this pace on your own. You didn't care. It didn't matter when he was hitting that spot inside you just right.

"So good, baby boy! Right there!" you cried.

"So tight. So good. Wanna cum! Please can I cum?" he begged, digging his fingers into your hips in a way that would definitely bruise.

Pulling his chin up with two fingers, you kissed him like your life depended on it. Tongues tangled sloppily, your teeth clicked together, and the angle was a little off considering the constant motion. Still, you couldn't bring yourself to care with him, whining obscenities into your mouth. Begging to cum so prettily. If you were a little meaner or not so desperate yourself, you'd draw it out a little longer. Maybe next time. Separating with a wet pop, you smoothed your thumb across his spit-slick, swollen lips.

"Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me?" you asked. He nodded, hooded eyes staring at you pleadingly.

"Close, close, please," he whined, dropping his head forward to your chest.

"Cum, baby boy." With a long, low moan, he was gone. He pounded sloppily into you with uncontrolled thrusts, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you impossibly closer. Between that and the sight of his utterly wrecked expression, you went tumbling over the edge after him. Your own shout of pleasure shook the room. Your thighs trembled with the force of it. For a second, you swore, you stopped breathing.

"Holy fuck," you panted as you came down from your high.

"Felt pretty holy to me," George said, leaning heavily against the arm of the couch.

"When I find my brain, I'll say something witty," you said. You let him slip out of you, opting to ignore the mess running down your thighs in favor of laying against his chest again.

"Anytime you wanna do that again, I'd happily oblige, love," he said.

"You just fucked my brain across the room while I called you baby boy, and you're already thinking about round two?" you snorted.

"Should I not be?" Well, round two did sound pretty good.

"Give me a hot minute, and I'll get right on that, sunshine." You didn't miss the love in his dark eyes as he gazed down at you with a crooked grin. Or the way his cock twitched in interest.

#its 3:30 am #but here it is #george weasley x reader #george weasley x reader smut #george weasley #george weasley oneshot #george weasley imagine #george weasley smut #george x reader #george x reader smut #harry potter smut #harry potter imagine #dom!reader #sub!george #smut #harry potter #hp

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oops-aquarius · 4 years ago

Text

tainted kisses

summary: steve needs some relaxation, which you provide to him

warnings: smut (!!!!), praise kink, slight degradation kink, a little bit of angst cuz a hoe is sad, oral fixation (duh), slight dom/sub dynamics (?), mentions of sadness/depression, tiny mommy kink (like barely there)

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.2k

note(s): not edited well at all, also i used a prompt generator to get the promt i used (which is below !!)

prompt: “baths or water (tubs or jacuzzis; hot springs; water houses or steam rooms; the ocean; swimming pools.”

kink: “Oral fixation or fetishization (lips, tongue, or whole mouth; french-kissing; licking; oral displays using food or beer bottles; smoking cigarettes, cigars, or pipes; biting or chewing one's lip(s))”

***this is post-endgame except nobody died, cause im a hoe for all of the avengers***

Steve never realized how much he liked things in his mouth. Not always in a sexual way, at least not until after fighting Thanos.

After fighting for so long, bottling up his emotions was not at all how Steve needed to cope. He tried the yoga and meditation route Wanda had so kindly suggested. Yeah, after one session of hot yoga, Steve decided that it wasn't going to happen. Tony, obviously, suggested sex. Said something about it being a “healing experience for the soul”. That’s bullshit were Steve’s first thoughts when that came out of his mouth. Bucky told him to get some goats and raved about how therapeutic it was to raise them. But Steve could barely take care of himself, how would he even take care of a goat? Steve felt a hot sense of hopelessness burn against the back of his eyes as he sat on the floor of his bedroom, back pressed against the adjoined bathroom door.

“Steve?” A soft knock came from the front door. He took his thumb away from his mouth, he had resorted to subconsciously nibbling on the tip of it. Pulling himself off the door and towards the voice, he rubbed his tear-stricken cheeks in attempts to clean himself up a bit before seeing you.

“One sec, Y/N/N.”

When he opened the door, your face softened a bit before the smile that Steve, secretly, loved so much dropped off your face completely. “Stevie, what happened?”

Stevie, a nickname he hated for his entire life. A name that reminded him of the days before the super solider serum where he was a little guy getting beaten up on the streets of Brooklyn. Stevie, a nickname he loved hearing from your caring voice. Nobody else’s.

“Just tired, Y/N” he sighed, “so,so tired.”

“Stevie,” your voice caught at the back of your throat. Seeing him in so much pain made your life turn upside down. He doesn't deserve to be in pain. “ S’there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Just stay with me? Please?”

You took him back into his bed and sat with him, just talking about life until his breathing turned back to normal and he seemed partially-okay.

“Do you want to take a bath?” you asked, still stroking the blonde strands of his hair.

“Are you saying I smell?” He took his face out of the crook of your shoulder, feigning a look of hurt.

“No, punk, I meant to relax. You seemed pretty shaken up and I just wanted to help. I mean, that’s what I do when I feel down, relax in a bat-”

He cuts you off, “I appreciate it. Really, Y/N, I don’t know many people that are as loving and caring as you, sweetheart.” The nickname made a pang in your heart. You had like the super solider since you had met him, but never felt like he reciprocated the feelings. Even though you both cuddled often, and had movie nights, and he always let you beat him while sparring, and that one time you came down with a stomach bug and he fed you soup and-holy shit. Did Steve like you? “Sweetheart?”

“Huh?”

“I said, ‘A bath does sound nice’. What’s got you so suddenly zoned out?” He says, donning a smirk.

“It’s nothing. Let’s get you into that bath, mister,” you had a faux grumpy look on your face as you got up and walked to the bathroom, starting to fill the white, ceramic bathtub with warm water. “Okay, big boy. You need help getting up or are you okay?”

Rolling his eyes at your inauthentic tone, Steve pushes his tensed frame off the body and managed to stumble into the bathroom, while you following him closely to make sure he doesn't fall over from exhaustion.

“I get it, I’m old, but damn Y/N. I can walk perfectly fine,” He chuckles as he pushes himself up to sit on the counter top.

You start to fill up the bathtub with warm water, adding bubbles and lighting a few scented candles. He looked so pretty, hair sticking out in every direction, lips pink and puffy from biting them, his ocean blue eyes still misty as he looks down at his cuticles, picking them slightly.

“Okay, I’m gonna leave so you can take this bath,” you say, shutting off the faucet, “Got it?”

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Stevie.”

“Stay, please.” His eyes were watering more than earlier. He had those puppy dog eyes, lip quivering as his voice cracked and wavered even with just a few words. He looked so vulnerable, how could you say no to him?

“Of course, Steve. I mean, the bubbles with kind of cover everything. I’ll just sit next to the tub with you, alright?” You awkwardly giggled and scratched the back of your neck. He nodded, hopping off of the counter and starting to undress himself with a wobble. “Stevie, you’re shaking like a leaf, let me help you.”

His eyes never met yours as you helped him pull his t-shirt over his head and looped your delicate fingers through the waistband of his sweatpants, dragging them down his muscular thighs. “You’re not gonna finish your job, doll?”

His boxers. The only clothes he had left on were his grey boxers. You wanted to give him privacy and not look, especially in such a broken and vulnerable state. But god, you could see the outline of his partially-hard cock through the soft cotton. You thought about what it would be like to have your mouth around his hard length, chocking on it as he rammed himself into the back of your throat.

“Ummm, I just--I thought--I mean I can---Only if you want--” The dirty thoughts clouded your brain. It made speaking a speaking a sentence almost impossible as your mouth watered just thinking about his cock.

“It was a joke, sweetheart,” he laughed heartily, “You’re too adorable.”

Pulling his boxers down his legs, he waddled tiredly over to the tub before stepping in. He groaned in pleasure at the feeling of the warm water encapsulating his exhausted body. You imagined that’s how he’d groan if you sucked his cock so hard he was seeing stars.

You were still facing the door, like you were as Steve got completely undressed. You knew if you turned around and look at him, naked and at ease, you’d jump his bones in a heartbeat. “Come sit with me, Y/N”

And you did. You turned around cautiously, like you expected, the bubbles covered his body enough for you to be able to handle yourself as you sat down next to the tub. You grabbed his hand away from his lips, running your soft fingers over his rough calloused ones. “I always see you biting your nails or cuticle or lips or your pens. Why?”

He sighed, “I’m not sure, I guess it just distracts me?” He said it more like it was a question rather than a statement. “I guess I don’t truly know why I do it, I guess I just enjoy having things in my mouth.”

You could read Steve like a book, his pupils blown with lust, his lip stuck between his teeth, a blush heating up his cheeks. You took a leap of faith.

“Yeah, like what?”

“You.”

His lips were on yours in a flurry, it took a second for you to react, but as soon as you did it felt amazing. Neither of you seemed to care about the water splashing over you as his hands trailed up your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

He pulls away panting, “F-Fuck, Y/N, I need you. Please. Oh my god I need you so bad,” His eyes looked as if they were welling up with tears and he looked so pretty still in the relaxing bubble bath, whimpering and whining for you.

“God, I need you too, baby,” you stop to look in his eyes sincerely, “Are you sure you want this? I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want to do or that you will regret.” Your hand caresses his cheek.

“Just get in here with me and I’ll show you how much I want you,” he whispered, “Need you, really.”

You sighed before your hands moved shakily to take off your t shirt. As much as you wanted this, you were still scared of how the ripped super solider would feel about you and your body, As soon as your shirt was off, Steve was whimpering, dipping his hand into the soapy water to massage his aching cock. This only spurred you to take off your clothes and join him faster.

“Did I say you could touch yourself, puppy?” Your stern voice caught him off-guard, making him pause his actions with a look of fear on his face. You step into the bathtub, straddling him. Your nails raked up his milky white thighs, trailing up his body admiring the beauty of it. “Y’Know I was planning on being nice to you because you’ve been so good to me, but you might need to be punished, baby? Do you need to punshied like a brat?”

He mewled, bowing his head in shame. You could feel him growing harder and harder by the second and you were starting to go crazy with the empty feeling inside of you that on he could fill. “No, ma’am. I’ll be good, I swear!”

“Mmmm, that’s my good boy.” Your hands slid up his chest and rested on his cheeks, hearing him preen at your praise, as you repositioned yourself over his cock. “Are you sure you want this?”

“If you dont ride me into next week right fucking now I’m going to scream, Y/N,” He breathed out with a chuckle, Grabbing your thighs, he helps you sink down on his cock. Both of you were moaning and whimpering messes by the time you were sitting at this base of him, trying to get adjusted to his large size.

Hot tears burned at the back of his eyes as soon as you lifted yourself up off of him, only leaving the tip of him inside of you, and slamming back down on his dick.

“Baby-please,” he whimpered, “n-need, shit, need your fingers, bad.”

You were confused, slowing down a bit to make sure he was okay. But his puppy dog eyes showed that he was okay. Slowly taking your wrist from his cheek, he puts your fingers in his warm mouth. Moaning around them and swirling his tongue around them. He did it the same way you always dreamed about sucking his dick, chocking and gagging on his length.

“Yeah, you’re such a needy little slut for me, for this pussy. Look at you, so ruined and fucked out just because I’m fucking you.” He moaned sensually at your words making your core tighten impossibly.

You had gotten a good idea as you were riding him. Slowly, you start to thrust your hand in and out of his mouth, watching the saliva dribble out of the corners of his mouth as he choked on you. The band in your tummy starts tightening as you feel yourself getting close.

“Shit, fuck, baby, I’m gonna come. Oh my god, you’re make me come with your beautiful cock, puppy. So good for me, aren’t you?” Your free hand dips into the water, cupping his balls and rolling them around your soft palm.

He nods, choking on your nimble finger yet again his you massage his sensitive balls. “Gonna come,” he slurred and spit around you.\, “almost there.”

“I didn’t” you moaned as you feel his balls tighten, fall back down on his cock at a faster pace, “give you permission to do that. I thought you were going to be good for me?”

“I am” he spluttered loudly, “i am good, I swear. Just please let me come. I need it, oh shit, mommy.”

The name went straight to your core, making you grow weak as you feebly give him permission to come as you come undone with one more bounce on his large member. His hands come up to grope your breasts as he come with hot spurts inside of your tight cunt.

“Oh my god,” you stifle a giggle as you stand up on shaky legs. You wordlessly helped him out of the tub and wrapped him in a white towel, walking him to bed while you dried yourself off. Collapsing on the bed with a grunt, the solider hollds out his hand to you, signalling you to lay down with him. You could easily tell he was still coming down from his sex high, starting to regain his self back.

“I dont know what possessed me to,” he pauses, trying to figure out a way to word the rest of his sentence, “to suck, I guess, on your hand. I’m sorry, Y/N, that was really weird of me.”

“What do’ya mean, baby? Having an oral fixation isn’t something to be ashamed of.” The words make him smile with droopy eyes, tucking his head into your neck and starting to fall asleep, happy and comfortable, cuddling you.

“And to be honest, puppy. I think it’s really hot.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #mcu #avengers smut #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers fic #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers headcannon #smut #angst #fluff #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #wtf even is this crackfic #i hate it but oh well

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thatlongspringnight · 4 years ago

Text

A Crown in Springtime (Jungkook x Fem!Reader)

summary: When Jungkook caught the eye of the queen that night, he didn’t realize just how much it would change his life for the better.

pairing: Jungkook x female Reader

genre: arranged marriage au, lust at first sight, romance

word count: 6.2k

❂ amorentia in spring

⁂ hosted by: professor amora through @bangtansorciere

⤐ au type: daffodil

⤐ themes: spring, honeymoon

⤐ kinks: Edging ⤞ Praise ⤞ Cunninglus ⤞ Fingering ⤞ Handjob ⤞ Thigh Riding ⤞ Hair Pulling ⤞ Creampie ⤞

Jungkook is nervous, it bleeds into him like the cold of midwinter, a stark difference from the blossoms of early spring that surround him. Even now, in the sunshine of early morning, he shivers, nerves leaving him tense as he feigns calm, leaning back on the veranda as though nothing has changed, nothing is different, letting the sun soak into his bones.

But everything has changed. He’s more tense now then he was a day ago, when he was kneeling at the ancient altar, handfasting himself to a woman he barely knew for life, for the hereafter too….And not just any woman. His liege, his queen...now his wife. His father had talked of nothing else for the last two months...since...since the betrothal. All he could speak on was the arrangement, brooking no talk or protest from him, nothing but smiling and acceptance.

A savior - his father had called her, the queen their savior, rescuing them from poverty.

“She chose you.” It had been repeated so many times, the idea that he should be grateful, grateful for this arranged marriage. He should be full of joy even, plucked from obscurity to marry her. But...but he doesn’t know her, he can’t wrap his mind around why she would pick him She could have anyone after all...so why him?

Before the wedding...he could count the number of times he had seen her on one hand. A - A little older than him, a couple of years, maybe - he hadn’t known a world where she had not been queen. She had grown up with a crown on her head, a sword in her palm, and the shadow of a dynasty weighing on her shoulders. A child queen raised on tales of her ancestors, long dead, war and conquest. He...He had heard that she had been in want of a husband.

His father had even suggested his older brother, his heir - but never once had his name been mentioned. Not until....not until that night - two months ago, when - when she had smiled at him, eyes alight in mirth and something he didn’t have a name for yet, asking him to dance after a dinner.

They had gone to court for the winter celebration, and he had felt her eyes on him during the meal, offering her a soft smile, as - as was proper.

She’d asked him to dance, first - his thoughts repeated, an honor, one that had given him the warmth of her palm in his, her eyes trailing up his face.

“Your hair.” She had murmured, a hand going to play with the strands. “Blue like the ocean.” His own personal magic, how the fae had manifested in him. He wondered how it manifested in her…

Either way…was that why? Was that why she had picked him? Not even two days after, she had offered his father...and the deed had been done..all leading up to yesterday, kneeling at the altar, him bedecked in clothes woven of silver thread, blue sapphires dripping from them, from the crown she laid on his head. Joining him at the altar, covered in gold. He felt like the moon, lit only by her golden glow.

Somehow, somehow he had made it through, repeating ancient vows that dipped magick into his blood, feeling their bond form as sure and strong as the rope that bound their hands. Somehow that day had faded to night, banquets and being whisked away - a honeymoon in the mountains - early spring blossoms filling the air with perfume.

A honeymoon, but still - no bride. The thought alone is enough to stir something, a gentle sigh making him jolt. Her, he knows its her, he can feel it, looking up to meet her amused gaze. The - the queen, his queen, he dips his head, scrambling to sit properly, to bow…

At least until her fingertips press his forehead, stilling him instantly.

“No Need.” her voice still shocks him, calm and easy - sweet too - like the last drops of sap from a tapped tree at the end of winter. “Especially not here.”

“....Not here?”

“You haven’t noticed?” She smiles now, and it makes him feel warm. “We’re all alone. No one dares to interrupt their queen on her honeymoon.” He’s watching her, stepping to sit beside him, legs dangling like his were just moments before.

“And...and if we weren’t alone?” He curses how slowly the words seem to come to him, trailing and trembling in her presence, but he can’t help it. His position feels uncertain, her husband, but what does that make him. He’s no king.

“Then you’d only need to nod your head.” She hums, a hand lifting up, moving to block the light, to let the sun’s rays break between her fingertips. “You’re a prince now, anyway, my darling, people will be bowing to you.” She says it so easily, like it doesn’t alter his entire life. “But….between us.” She continues. “I’d like it to be different.” This is the most she’s ever spoken to him, and he finds himself entranced at her lips, the way she forms words.

“Different?” He mumbles, barely aware he’s asked.

“Different, friends at least.” She tilts her head to look at him. “Maybe even more.”

“F-Friends?” he questions, eyes widening. “With me?” “Is that so odd?” She snorts. “To want to be friends with my husband?” “....No.” He answers after a moment. “Well - just a little.”

“At the end of the day, I’m just a normal girl, you know.” Words he doesn’t believe, not even for a moment.

The day passes, the coolness of the morning fading to a gentle heat, and he learns - Jungkook learns about his wife.

More than he’s bargained for.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that.” She pushes her own plate of food at him. “Here, eat up.” They are lounging again, on the veranda, which seems to be her favorite place, his too, where the breeze is gentle, and the flowers bloom so heavily nearby it smells like a garden. “It will get cold and you won’t want it.” Its a simple pronouncement, one that makes him pout.

“How do you know?” He answers her, watching how her lips twitch into a smile. “Maybe i want it cold.” “As your Queen, I demand you eat.” That pronouncement is met with him grumbling, before he sits up, a look in his eyes that makes her raise an eyebrow.

“Feed me then.” Jungkook demands, a petulant lilt to his voice, even as he tries to hide his smile.

“What?”

“Feed me.”He gives her a grin, one that makes her heart beat quicken, not that he knows, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Come on - “ He throws her words from before back in her face. “Feed me or else everything’s going to get cold.”

“What a baby.” The woman complains, not at all fooled by the sweet look on his face. “You’re not playing fair, Jungkook.” His name, whenever she says it, makes his stomach flutter with butterflies. Still, he doesn’t even pout at being called a baby, too triumphant at her shifting to face him, reaching to pick up a slice of meat, offering it to him. “Your highness.” She mocks, and he could only snicker, enjoying the taste on his tongue.

It is delicious.

“So good – its delicious.” The smile he shot her was enough to make the woman feel a brush of something she chose not to name. Damn this boy, damn him for making doing something so simple as eating so attractive.

It made her want to tease him, and that made her smile, something he notices. “You – you gave in really easily.” Jungkook spoke after a moment of comfortable silence. She had, this woman who had led his people in war, had fed him just now, without much protest at all. “Maybe you can feed me every day.” Did he enjoy it? Yes, of course he did, but unfortunately for him, the words seemed to click something into place for her.

“Oh, you want me to feed you every day?” The woman purred, managed to snag a bite of her own food before setting down her plate. The air shifts, a shiver coursing through him, the trees seeming to shiver too. “Tell me something, Jungkookie.”

“W-What?” He speaks, a bit of alarm on his face as she leaned over him, her body suddenly very close. “T-Tell you what?”

“Ahh..” She settles herself close to him. So close, their shoulders touch, and when she leans over, their noses nearly brush. “Tell me, are you sure you want this every day?” This time, when she offers him food, he is slower to take it, his cheeks warm. It feels heady, being close to her like this, and he wonders if this intimacy will ever feel anything other than clandestine. “Jungkook, I asked you a question.”

“Ngh.” The boy looked up, his nose brushing hers. “I – I wouldn’t mind.” He breathes. Her chest was too close to his face, and the skin she exposed…it was right there. His lips could brush her collarbones if he looks straight ahead. Suddenly a warm day felt blazing hot. “I – I’m thirsty – “ He managed to speak, unsure of how he even got his voice to work.

“Thirsty?” A teacup was balanced in her hand in an instant, her hold graceful…almost delicate. “Tea, your highness?”

“Don’t call me that.” He protests. “I – you’re the Queen - I’m just - “ “You’re my husband.” She answers, offering him a sip. “Your highness is an appropriate title.”

“But to you, I should just be Jungkook.” He answers her, and she can only smile.

“Can I taste too?” its a shift in conversation, but Jungkook nods, assuming she’d just…take a drink from his cup – which is why his brain short circuits the moment the cup was pulled away, replaced by her lips.

Cherry blossom tea is at first just a hint of salt – one that fades to a mellow sweetness, floral notes and plum. Jungkook thinks to himself. Those grounded musings lost at her lips. She is kissing him, and he is overwhelmed, the taste of her and the cherry blossom tea an all too dangerous combination for him, leaving him lightheaded. She is kissing him - and he could have whined, the angle of their bodies meaning he couldn’t move his hands from the ground, or they’d both tumble over.

And he didn’t want to lose the fierceness of her kiss - her hands in his hair, tugging at the strands hard enough for him to whimper, the sound lost as her tongue explored his mouth, stealing the taste of tea from his lips.

He is on fire, he is in bloom under her touch.

And then she pulls away, panting against his lips, her own cheeks flushed.

“I like it – the tea. Its good on its own…but its better tasting it on your lips, pretty boy.” Jungkook could faint.

“I – y-you can’t just….you can’t just say things like that!”

“Do you need a moment?” She is stretching out like a cat in the sun. “We should make flower crowns next, my prince.”

Jungkook truly looks like a fish out of water in that moment, his mouth opening and closing in shock, and She could’ve laughed at the blush high on his cheeks. She had got him right where she wanted him, he realizes. The lilt to her voice was teasing as she gives him a knowing smirk. “What’s wrong, Jungkook?”

“I-“ He gulps, unable to speak, the taste of salt and honey still strong on his tongue from their kiss. It is too much- she is too much. “A-Actually, my throat is still dry.” He clears his throat once, then twice as if he was trying to prove it to her. “I might n-need another drink...”

“Well, that is a problem, isn’t it.” She tilts her head to the side in mock sympathy and he nods, almost a little too eagerly, giving it away.

“It is, yes. Maybe- maybe you could help me drink again?”

“Hmm, I could...but you also have two perfectly good hands to use so.” She shrugged. “That sounds more like a problem than a me problem.”

“But maybe I’d rather use my hands for...other things.” He is trying to tempt her- and failing miserably as she barely spared him a second glance, too busy focusing on gathering the materials for the flower crowns, something that he wasn’t as interested in now as he had been before.

“Well that’s good, seeing as you’ll need them to make your crown. What flowers did you want?”

Making flower crowns was relaxing – that is the thought after a few minutes, as he hummed softly, twisting the flowers around the ribbon, grinning as they connected. It was unconscious, he sways softly, humming under his breath. He used to make so many of them, for the whole court…and his father would always pick his over his brother’s…

“Ugh – “ The frustrated sound from beside him, pulls him from his memories, and he pauses, listening softly to the woman’s grumbles. Glancing down, he finds a bit of a mess, and it made him grin – he didn’t want to say anything though – not wanting to break her focus – that is until she hissed through her teeth, the flowers literally bursting from their ribbon, scattering around her.

“Gah – “She grimaces, and he laughs outright, her head whipping around at the sound, finding him already wearing his…

And it was beautiful…of course.

“Having some trouble– “

“Its not easy.” She huffs. “You must be cheating somehow.”

“I did not!” Jungkook protests. “I just have more experience is all - “

“I can’t do it.” She straight up whines, and Jungkook grins, giggling in earnest, scooting closer to her. How was she so cute, struggling like this, gathering up her flowers. In this moment she is just a girl, and he is just a boy - He can’t help but be brave.

“Here...”He croons, reaching for her, pulling her closer so he can watch. “Let me teach you.” Only after does he realize how informal he’s being, shooting her a worried glance, only to be met by a little pout.

“I-I don’t need any help!” She curses under her breath, her stammer hardly hidden as she gives him a little glare. “I can do it!”

“Here.” His chin rested on her shoulder, hands gently taking hers in his. “You made your stems too short so they were harder to wrap.” Those flowers get set aside as he picks others from the pile. “These longer ones will work better.

She was silent as she watched him manipulate her hands with his own, twisting the flowers so it entwined with the ribbon, the dyed material looking so good against his skin.

“...try?” The sudden baritone of his voice makes her jump.

“What?”

“I said, why don’t you try.” He has the gall to sound amused and she finds herself scowling at his grin. Even if she couldn’t see it- she felt it. “Let’s try to pay more attention when I’m teaching you, alright?”

“Give me that.” She grabs the flower crown from him, ignoring the sound of his laugh, his body shaking next to her. Jungkook watches her, how she furrows her brows, grabbed another flower- daisies this time, and carefully winds it around the ribbon like he had showed her, focusing hard on her task.

She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself, wistful almost. Beautiful, and he’s hers.

Beautiful, and wants him just as bad as he wants her - something he finds out the next morning, the veranda a place of more than just relaxing in the sunshine.

“You should call me Noona.” Her voice is a purr against his ear, the kind that makes Jungkook shiver, tensing against her light touch. And it is like, fingers trailing his skin, delicate in the way they touch him, make him yearn for more...its...unexpected, how she makes him feel desirable and full of desire for her all at once.

“N-Noona - “ He stammers, breath hitching at her fingertips parting the robe he’s wearing, dancing across his chest. “Ngh - you - “ “You’re so pretty.” She murmurs. “I wanna make you feel good.” He’s tensing at that, but the pit in his stomach is full of butterflies and aching, nothing like fear clinging to him now. “I don’t want you to regret...this...with me.” “This…?” he asks, confusion bleeding into his tone. “This...now?” “Now - and...our marriage.” She confesses, face dipping lower, lips ghosting across the juncture of his throat. “I want to make it worth it for you.” “Why is it worth it for you?” He wonders aloud. “I’m no one at all - “ “You’re magic itself.” She counters, and this time its a kiss against his neck, not just lips, this time her hand finds purchase on his chest, fingernails a dull scrap against his skin. It feels good, and he whines softly, adjusting to the feeling. “Beautiful, sweet - Strong.” She says, and she can feel his cheeks heat. “What, is it embarrassing to hear?” She sounds almost amused, blowing lightly at the strands of his hair, soft blue in the clear, cloudless sunshine.

“T-That - “ He nearly chokes on his own spit. “That - that’s taking it a little too far.” Its almost scolding. “How can you know that?’

“I want to know everything there is to know about you.” She answers. “And to show you all of me, too, if you...if you’ll let me.”

“I want to...to see you.” He answers, honestly, after a moment. “You’re my wife after all, my bride.” There is a smile, hers, against his skin.

“Such a good boy.” She praises, and he cannot help the pleased feeling under his skin, the way he nods, preening a little under her words. “Such a pretty, darling man.” Her hand, trailing lower, bringing new, ticklish feelings to his skin.

This type of affection wasn’t altogether new to him, romps with boys and girls in the stables up...up until recently, but this is different too, there is a feeling there he’s not used to, a longing coming from the woman that registers in his heart.

He can feel her loneliness, the ache in her soul - and he wants to fill it as best he can. Maybe that’s what she had seen in him that night, that same feeling - deep in his heart - that deep alone that kept him up at night.

So he kisses her, adjusting so he’s nearly in her lap, back to her chest, turning to catch her gaze. His lips meet hers and he sees her eyes widen, before his own shut, one of her hands coming to cup his cheek, thumb stroking idly against his skin. It’s sweet - soft, at least for a moment. But they’re both ravenous, he realizes, when it’s his hands that find purchase on the dainty silk robe that hid her form. Ravenous as she bites at his bottom lip, earning a whine, a whimper - when he looks up again, there is something molten in her gaze, and in his stomach.

He wants her, and -

“Ngh -“ he muffles the sound of surprise in his throat as she shifts them, so now it’s her, legs parted on either side of his thigh, sitting with her hands pressed against his chest. “I - I -“

“You?” She asks, like she hasn’t put them in a compromising position, little smirk at her lips. “Cat got your tongue, Jungkook?” Her thumb parts his lips, delight on her face as he opens his mouth, lets her press it to his tongue. “I’d be glad to have your tongue on my kitten.” The slang is enough to make him sweat, heat prickling against his skin.

He’s wearing too many clothes - even if all he’s in is a night robe, the mid morning sun has left him languid and warm, her touch has set fire to his skin - and her - so close to him, nose brushing at the skin of his cheek, coaxing him closer, mouth meeting his with more fervor, hands tangling in his hair.

She’s pulling at the strands, drawing a whine from his lips as her hips rock forward, as his hands find purchase on her hips - registering what she’s doing before his mind catches up.

“N-noona -“ it’s a moan as they part, him panting softly, him trying his best to capture her lips again, only for her to evade. “I want to kiss you.”

“Do you?” She asks, a soft hum on her lips as she brushes them by his ear, earning a shiver. “Badly?”

“Everywhere.” He’s feeling bolder now, straightening his posture so he can give her more - tensing the muscles of his thighs as she rocks - rewarded with a surprised, pleased little noise, even more at how he shifts her himself, across the strength of his thigh, exposed now.

“Not worried we’re going to get caught?” She asks, met with beautiful, darkened eyes.

“You said that I didn’t have to worry about anyone disturbing us.” He reminds. “Who’d dare interrupt their queen?” He mimics her voice from before, pleased when she laughs, when she grips lightly at his hair, tugging again just to make him whine.

“Brat.” But her tone is fond, like she’s seen him and found nothing displeasing in the least. “But you’re right, no one would dare.” She eyes him, noting the way his hands grip at her, eager to get her out of her clothes. “Don’t you try it.” She warns before he can act. “Seeing me naked is something that you’ll have to earn I’m afraid.” Even as she says that, her hand is grasping at the tie around his, her eyes meeting his own, seeking a silent permission he gives readily.

The ribbon holding it closed is pulled away, her hand making contact with his lower stomach. Dipping lower, finding purchase on something that makes him hiss.

“A-Ah - “ “Hard.” She poses, and its not a question, its an observation. He’s hard. “Pretty.” She tacks on. “Even your cock is pretty.” He feels like he could combust, head dropping to hid in the crook of her neck.

“N-Noona.” He whines. “Don’t say that.”

“Come on, Jungkookie.” There is a note of challenge to her tone. “Are you just going to sit here while I touch your dick? Or are you going to help your wife, hm? She glances at his hands on her hips, looking back up at him.

Its enough, he’s back at it, biting his lip as she touches him, and her touch is light, light as she trails fingertips against the head of his cock, dips them down to grasp at him, pulling her hand away so she can lick her palm. He’s entranced, only shifting her hips because she told him to, entirely too focused on her damp palm meeting his skin again, dragging up, up, up.

But that’s not the only sensation. Its her, rutting against his thigh when he’s not fast enough, thumbing at his tip. He is conscious of his moans, soft and eager, and that’s about it, overwhelmed with the feeling.

“N-Noona - “ “Beautiful.” She answers him, and he can feel her - her essence against his skin, he’s flustered. “Lazy.” She teases and he whines, this time actually dragging her against his thigh. Again, then again, over and over - movements faltering as her drag up his skin sped up.

It - it was so hard to focus -

“I-It would be easier if I was inside you.” He finally counters, words catching up with his thoughts - and that gets a reaction, her thighs clamping around his, her movement stuttering. “If y-you let me - “ “Already at the business of begetting heirs?” her palm slips from him and he whimpers. “Not yet, if you want it, I need it first.” She warns. She doesn’t mind being selfish, he already knows - and he doesn’t mind it either.

“Then let me give it to you.” He’s pulling away, eyeing her. “Let me - let me worship you, on my knees, since you’re my...my queen - my wife.” and he is on his knees, already, something that clearly pleases her.

“Worship me?” She asks, perching up on her hands, legs stretched out in front of her. “You mean between my thighs, where you belong, right?” His cock is still hard, she muses, still throbbing and leaking, and eager - but making him wait was good, bringing him close to the edge and then not letting him…

Perfect.

“Can I?” He asks again, needing more than that from her. “Please - “ “You should talk less.” She answers him. “You’re wasting time you could be worshipping me.” It spurs him forward, but she meets him halfway. He is pushed down, pulled forward, till his nose was brushing against her core, silk robe falling around exposed hips and soon enough her legs were resting on his shoulders, holding him in place. He looked up, finding her flushed, seemingly eager.

“This – this is what you want?”

“Come on, Kookie – You said you wanted to worship me, to be on your knees before me...So…why don’t you show me what that mouth does…besides teasing.”

“Ngh -!” Jungkook flushes hard at the crude words that fall from her lips, his whole body uncomfortably hot. He wants to hide his face from her dark gaze but with the firm grip she had on his hair, he couldn’t move. Even then, he isn’t sure he could, trapped in her gaze the way he was. “V-Vulgar.”

“I’m just telling you what I want, Jungkookie. You said you were going to….so do it.” The way she is looking at him makes that fire ignite in his blood again, a deep sense of desire and wanting.

Because she is right. Jungkook wants to watch as she fell apart, her thighs trembling from around his head, his name like a prayer on her lips as her back arched with pleasure.

He wants nothing more.

“Okay.” He murmurs, pressing sweet kisses to her thighs, intent on getting her just as hot as he felt. “You’re so wet for me, Noona.” Slowly, he ghosts his mouth over her core before going to press kisses to her other thigh, not missing the way she tensed and let out a little huff when he passed over her center.

“I’d be wetter if you actually used your tongue on me.”

“Maybe so.” He hums, letting his thumb brush over her clit, the corners of his lips twitching upwards at her soft whimper and he wonders if she tastes as sweet as the noises she makes, as sweet as the honey that he had tasted on her tongue earlier. Jungkook lets his gaze rest on hers before giving an experimental circle of his tongue on her clit, the woman jolting at the touch.

“J-Jungkook-!“

He doesn’t pause, his eyes still on hers as he wraps pretty lips around her pearl, giving a gentle suck, just to see how she’d react, a finger drawing over her entrance.

Jungkook is not disappointed at her reaction, her hands falling free of his hair, digging into the wood of the veranda beneath her. She moans, a pleased – heady sound, her heels pressing into his back, pushing him closer and closer to her core. So – so she liked that, then, Jungkook took note, returning to kitten licking at her.

Don’t try to overwhelm her with the first thing you find she likes, take your time, savor her, till she’s aching with need - advice from his older brother about what to do with girls - he’d taken it, and it had always seemed to work. he took a breath, his warmth ghosting over her as he pressed his finger against her.

“Noona – c-can – can I?” Jungkook asked, wanting to make sure.

“Yes –! ngh – “ She tenses at the feeling of his finger. “F-Fuck… please – “ He slid a finger inside of her, the feeling making him whimper against her core. She – she was so warm, clenching around him...

“O-Oh –“ He couldn’t help press his hips against the floor, searching for friction. How was it going to feel…buried inside of her, the hot, and wet and – and tight. He really was going to have to work her over now…because he doubted he was going to last very long at all. “Noona – you – you feel – so good.” Her thighs pressed against his face, and her head was tossed back.

“More – Kookie – more, y-you can be more rough with me.” His name on her lips, the endearment not lost on him, spoken so fondly, with such need – Jungkook can’t help himself but give in to her desires. Sliding his finger out, till she whined at the empty feeling, this time her thrust two in, harder, teeth just lightly grazing her clit. If – if she wanted rough –

“A-Ah! Jungkook!” the moan was sinful, and more of a cry, a shudder going through her as she tenses – “Ngh…ah..” He is thrusting his fingers into her, sitting up to press a kiss to her stomach, to bite lightly at her skin.

“Noona – Noona – you’re driving me crazy –“ The boy pants, still rutting into the floor. “You – ngh – you sound so hot, I – I can’t – “

“Jungkook- “ Her voice sounds almost scolding. “Don’t – don’t you dare get yourself off.” He froze, not realizing she could tell.”

“B-But…But Noona –“ he whines, met with her hands in his hair again, pulling roughly.

“No – you – you’re pleasuring me now. Just me.”

Just her...

Jungkook wanted to pout, to whine more at her scolding. It- it was hard to not lose himself over in the sound of her moans, the cry of his name falling from her lips. He couldn’t help that he wanted to be inside of her, actually inside of her- not just his fingers. To have her clenched tight around him.

“J-Jungkook, move..” His wife gives a little wriggle of her hips, huffing at the stilling of his fingers. Brat. Trying to get off by himself- like she wouldn’t notice the shift of his hip and his soft whimpers against her skin. She gives him a cool look from his place between her legs. “Unless you want me to finish what you started on my own-“

“N-No!” He blurted, his doe eyes wide at her implication. “No, Noona.” He repeated, slowly resuming his finger work, her shuddering in response. “Let- let me take care of you.” And then his mouth was on her again, sucking, licking, his fingers crooking inside of her- crooking his fingers to find that spot that’d make her see stars. He’d know just by the way-

“A-Ah -“ Her grip on his hair tightened, holding him in place. “Ngh, K-Kookie, right- right there.” She moans. “D-Don’t you dare stop.” She could feel him smirk against her and honestly, she would’ve said something if it didn’t feel so fucking good, his tongue flattening against her clit before circling around the nub. She was close, she could feel it- that pleasure growing tight like a bow that was being strung. She was just about to fall until-

Until-

“S-Stop -!”

Her gasp took him by surprise, her pulling him away from her immediately. Jungkook blinked up at her, confusion on his face. She had told him not to stop before... Had- had he done something wrong? “Noona...?”

“C-Come here.” She shifts then, pulling him up to her so she could capture his lips with hers, tasting herself on his tongue. Her hands dropped to his waist, a whine in Jungkook’s throat, his hips bucking against her hand as she palms at him again, a whimper as she bites down on his lip.

“Ngh, Noona, why...why’d you have me stop?” He felt his dick twitch in her hand and gods, he wishes he could feel her properly. “Y-You were close, a-ah, I could feel it.”

“I was, you’re right.” Finally- finally, she moves, grasping his hand to put it against the tie of her robe.. “But if I’m going to cum...then I want to be doing it around your cock- not your fingers. I want you to see all of me.” That’s all he needs, pulling at it, undoing it - watching the silk slip from her shoulders, slowly exposing all of her.

She’s beautiful, but he already knows that.

“Jungkook.” Her voice is breathy, and her fingers traced patterns against the skin of his chest as he takes her in. “Kookie – you’re – you’re breathtaking.” He whines softly, hiding his face against her neck again, clearly flustered at her words.

“I - I should be telling you that - “ He protests, but she is unabashed.

“Jungkookie…” A hand dipped lower, finding purchase on his cock, swollen, pre-cum dripping.

He is big. And even his dick was pretty, smooth and straight, with a gentle curve upward, She thinks wryly, wondering how physical perfection had managed to manifest itself so clearly in this man. Like every bit was crafted to draw a reaction from her, to make her long for him, yearn for him, need to have him.

She had known from the moment she’d seen him.

“Noona- “

“I’m yours to take.” She answers the unspoken question, pulling him to her, till he is gripping at her hips, glad that he had something to hold onto so his hands wouldn’t shake, the pads of his fingers digging into her flesh as he shifted her hips upwards. Slowly, slowly, he sinks into her. Glad not to have to wait anymore, a whine on his lips at her heat that surrounds him and he feels her stiffen, her mouth dropping open into an ‘o’ of pleasure. “N-Noona -“

She is hot and...and so tight around him, clenched like a vice, and he knows- Jungkook knows that he won’t be able to last very long.

“Ngh-“ A gasp leaves her throat at him suddenly thrusting inside. “K-Kook -“

“A-Ah, Noona, I- ngh, I can’t help it.” He leans forward, pressing kisses to her neck, her hands coming up to grip at his shoulders. “You- you feel so good.”

“Do i?” She asks, his reaction more than enough to clarify, hips setting a pace that seems to surprise her. “Ngh - you - you feel good too.”

“A-And you’re beautiful.” Jungkook finally feels brave enough to say it. “I - I’m a little terrified of you, b-but I don’t regret this.” Its sweet, in its own way, and it makes her laugh.

“I hope you never do.” She is kissing him again.

“W-What about you?” He asks after a moment. “Do you r-regret it?” “Never.” She answers against his lips. “Now, stop this idle worrying, let me feel your cum dripping out of me, instead.”

“N-Noona – you – you can’t say that.” Jungkook works on steadying himself, methodical in his thrusts, her words echoing in his head. That thought – the feeling of her, he can’t help thrust as deep as he can, feeling her nails dig into his skin, her small pleasured sounds filling the air. He could feel her tense, like this, his name falling from her lips as she gripped at him.

“K-Kookie – there – that’s it. Ngh – just like that.” She wasn’t shy under him, her legs wrapping around his narrow hips, drawing a soft groan from him.

“It – ngh – feels too good.” Jungkook whines, only to have her pull him into a kiss…one he wasn’t sure was to silence her or himself. Whatever it was, it was messy, teeth and tongue and sounds of pleasure.

But – but – he can feel it, that same feeling in his stomach, and he knew he needed to finish her, rewarded with her flat out moan, the loudest sound he had heard come from her, heady and high, when his fingers met her bud, breaking their messy kisses to toss her head back, a shudder coursing down her body.

“J-Jungkook - !” There it is, the boy is triumphant, rubbing at her roughly – its what she wanted after all – still pounding into her, thrusts growing more and more sloppy with every move. He could feel her again – too, the way she tenses and tightens, but even in his triumph he couldn’t help the words on his lips.

“Please, please – please Noona, please cum.” He is begging, his own mind hazy with pleasure. “Ngh – need you too…really bad.” He didn’t know what possessed him, slamming into her enough to make him wince, but it was enough.

It was too much – the feeling of her falling apart, how tight she was, pulsing against him, too much – and he -and he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

He empties himself in her, feeling very much so like a bucket, tossed to the ground, water spilled.

“I told you no one would catch us.” She speaks after his breath settles, idly playing with his hair. “My dear husband.” “Y-You - I’m...I’m happy.” His words don’t fit hers, but they do all at once, telling her directly what she wanted to know. “That you chose me to give a crown to.”

“Your magic sang to mine.” is all she says in return, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Your loneliness called to mine, because you were always meant to be mine...and i was always meant to be yours.”

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