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targaryenrealnessdarling · 8 months

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A Perfect Score - Chapter 5 - Ice Princess | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: Moving on to the North, before the match with Cregan and Sara, everything comes to a head | Word Count: 7.2k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: *deep breath* jealous!aemond, swearing, degradation, heaps of sexual tension, one room in the hotel trope, aemond being a sexual menace, a lot of dirty talk, p in v unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, creampie, mild angst

A/N: *me barking writing all the warnings* I ain't got nothing else to say I-

Comments, reblogs & likes are always appreciated in this household. I love u 😚

“What the fuck was that?!” El shouts over the video call, making you cradle your face in your hands.

She’s showing you her front camera, tapping on the TV in front of her as she rewinds the footage of your routine at Casterly Rock. She must have replayed that specific part about ten times now.

She taps the screen harshly, “Look at that! You’re fucking blushing, you whore!”

“El, please” you reply, exasperated.

“Is that a fucking bruise on your leg”

"El!" You shout over the phone, making her press her lips together in a mischievous grin.

"Did you get a bit too cozy?" She teases,

"Fuck off"

"You both look completely different. Also that triple spin, that was fucking perfect"

"Thank you" you say flatly, rolling your eyes, remembering doing it in the routine.

You don't remember the time between the dressing room and getting on the ice. Just the steady hum of the crowd's applause as the announcer welcomed the representatives of the Crownlands.

"Performing second is Aemond Targaryen with his not-so-new skating partner, who proved herself significantly in the deciding match for the Championship tour"

"They were both very icy in that performance. Let's see if anything has improved"

You run over all the jumps and spins, in case your mind is so preoccupied that you've somehow forgotten. Smoothing down your hair and your skirt, desperately trying to hide any proof of his fingerprints, you take your spot in the middle of the ice.

For this routine, it begins with Aemond facing you, and when he pauses to a halt before you, you meet his gaze briefly, feeling the warmth creeping up to your cheeks.

Before he left the dressing room, he looked nervous. But that facade is gone. He looks deadly serious, and you hate to admit that the look he's giving you, performance or not, is so piercing and purposeful that it's almost exciting. Arousing? No, focus.

At the other match, his touch had been calculated, firm and almost rigid. His movements were largely the same, as you had pointed out only the day before. But now, his touch is so whisper soft it's almost undetectable. His fingers dance across your bare skin, a path of goosebumps left in their wake. Except this time, his eyes barely ever leave yours, fully aware of the effect of his touch and a ghost of a smile lob-sided on his face.

Every single touch of his hands on your waist to lift you, every hold to lunge into a jump together and every shared gaze never fails to have your stomach roll pleasantly inside you, settling between your thighs where Aemond had touched you not a moment before.

You come together, skating backwards for the triple spin. His hands brace your waist, and you swallow anxiously.

"Remember to tuck your arms in" he whispers, you nod, running over what you need to do, "you've got this"

"I'm seeing a stark difference in attitude in this performance. Perhaps our icy couple are starting to warm up"

Taking a steadying breath, Aemond does as he needs and flings you in the air, ready to catch you once you've done one, two, three spins, before taking your hand once you land.

Right leg, push…

You can't help but smile when you land it. That's the best feeling in the world, when the crowd applauds.

"She's done it! Another graceful landing!"

You release the breath you'd been tightly holding, gliding through the rest of the routine with Aemond to the view of the stands, some of them stood and some seated in applause.

It's only when you are stopped, with Aemond's arms around your middle and feeling his hurried breath against your back, that you can finally form a thought. Your heart beats furiously in your chest, lungs dry.

"Well done" he breathes, hot against the shell of your ear. The praise goes straight to your core.

"Oop, I saw that look. Perhaps the Ice Prince has an Ice Princess in his sights"

"Oh come on, look at the way he's looking at you!" El beams over the video call, tearing you from your thoughts, "I swear to all the gods, if y'all don't smash-"

"Can I have one conversation with you that isn't about fucking please?"

El pulls a face, "What can I say. Hoes United. Are you kidding me? Ice Princess? He better be calling you princess between the sheet-"

"Goodbye, El"

You hang up, heaving a large sigh, staring forwards at the bed with your packed duffle bag, ready to depart once again in the car with Arryk.

It was clear as day, the difference between you and Aemond. The attitude.

The commentators dubbed you his 'Ice Princess', a nickname which you hate immensely. Several reporters had flocked to the hotel you were both staying in, all hanging around Arryk's car waiting for a chance to speak to the famed 'couple'.

The match was a success at least, no doubt because of the 'warming up' to one another, as the commentators graciously put it. You received good scores, marginally better technically than Johanna and Jason but ultimately winning most on performance, the former of which wiggled her eyebrow at you as she hugged you in congratulations during scoring.

She didn't dare say anything. The cameras would pick it up, no doubt.

A seasoned pro in that respect.

As per usual, you and Aemond were hauled into the back of Arryk's car provided by Hightower Management, sat together on opposite ends.

Also as usual, Aemond had his airpods shoved inside his ears, turned away towards the window. Usually, you'd be able to hear the music blasting through his earphones. But you couldn't hear a thing.

Perhaps he just wanted to be left alone.

His hands were clasped tight in his lap, his left leg bouncing. And you had to turn away towards your own window to stop staring at him in his sweatpants, feeling your face and neck get hot just thinking about what happened between you two.

The journey to Winterfell was several hours. You couldn't possibly be faster getting out the car and grabbing your stuff, walking straight past Aemond to go into the foyer of 'The Lone Wolf', a humble yet large hotel in the heart of Winterfell. Owned by none other than the Stark Family, so the idea of seeing Cregan before the match sent anxious flutters in your stomach.

"Good morning, Miss" the receptionist says with a polite customer service brimmed smile.

"Hello, uh, should be some rooms booked under Hightower?"

She nods, her fingernails clicking against the keyboard, "Just let me check for you…"

You ignore the white-haired male in your periphery, leaning against the desk by one of his forearms, one airpod now safely tucked away. When you spare a brief glance, he's not looking at you, but at the woman as she types quickly, flexing his fingers on the desk. You swallow thick at the closeness, sidestepping an inch.

The lady pulls a face.

"I'm afraid there seems to have been an administrative issue with the booking…"

Your skin starts to erupt in worry, "what issue?.."

The receptionist meets your eyes, her lips drawn flat in apology, "There is only one room on the Hightower booking…"

You go cold all over, staring back for a long moment without saying anything.

"A twin?" you ask,

She shakes her head, "a double.."

Your hand braces your forehead, leaning against the desk, "Fuck"

An awkward silence passes before you ask, "there aren't any other rooms?"

"I'm afraid not. We're full because of the skating match in a few days"

Aemond bites the inside of his cheek, his face stoic, "Is there a sofa? In the room?"

She reluctantly nods, "Yes but only a 2 seater-"

"That's fine" Aemond says immediately, holding his hand out and clapping the keycard in his grasp. He sighs and turns to you, smirking slightly at the horrified look on your face, "Let's go then, business partner"

You feel like you stand stock still, frozen into place, your heart hammering in your chest at the thought of sharing such intimate space with Aemond.

I've got to be the most fucking unlucky person in Westeros.

By the time you catch your breath, having checked to see if Arryk had already left (which unfortunately he had), you're walking hurriedly to the room, standing before the numbered door for a moment as if to psych yourself up for the next day and a bit that will be inevitably be spent in extremely close proximity with Aemond.

The hotel room is luckily wide, with an en-suite situated in the corner as well as a wide curved window that looks out over the roof of another building. Aemond shucks his bag onto the sofa, his well muscled back moves as he unzips it and pulls his belongings out.

He barely moves his head, "You gonna unpack or just stand there?"

Hot embarrassment combined with subtle anger nips at your insides. You pull your lips into a flat line to hold you back from retorting and huff your bag onto the bed, pulling off your jacket.

Aemond won't stop you from getting comfortable.

"Will you fit on that 2-seater?"

Aemond shrugs, still busied with unpacking, "I've slept on worse"

Usually, unpacking is a time for relaxation, making a home of the hotel room. But here, with Aemond, it feels like you're on guard the entire time, methodically grabbing the more intimate items of clothing and putting them away as quickly as you can.

Suddenly, the shorts you're wearing feels just a bit too revealing, the hem lapping at your thighs barely. Every now and then, you feel his gaze on them, setting every hair on edge. But when you look back at him, he just does that little lob-sided smug smile, pretending to be busy with something else.

You push your palms over the skirt of your dress anxiously, feeling a nervous sweat coat them "Okay well…" you murmur awkwardly, "I'm gonna…to go downstairs for a bit"

You're barely turned, hand on the door when Aemond chuckles, low, in his chest, "Desperate to get away from me, hm?"

You freeze, not daring to turn back. All you can hear is the soft press of his trainers on the carpet as he turns away, and you just know he's looking at you.

The inside of your mouth is so dry.

"I know what you're thinking, I can see it on your face" he muses quietly, his voice edging closer to your back as you're frozen on the spot, "I know you've been thinking about what we did, in the dressing room"

No I haven't.

Yes I have.

Fuck.

As much as the thoughts whizz around your head, they don't make the connection to your mouth. You can feel how close Aemond must be to your back, and your fingers tighten over the handle of the door.

"You have, haven't you?" He grins darkly, his voice an octave lower, quieter, more calculated, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it"

Your breath is stuck in your ribs, arousal pooling slowly in your belly, like the calm tide of the ocean sweeping in to wet the sand.

You feel his breath against your neck and ear, blowing the hair at the side of your face. His mere presence behind you.

"See you tonight"

Almost as soon as he says it, you're out the door, pushing it shut behind you forcefully. Shutting out the feeling that you desperately want to disappear. The mere memory of his hands on your bare thighs that day sets urgency in your core, hands clenched tight at your sides.

But more than anything, the way he kissed you, was the feeling you remembered the most. You recall moments after he'd rushed out, touching your kiss-swollen lips, willing the feeling of them back, realising just what line had been crossed.

Aemond Targaryen was an infuriatingly good kisser. Just like the way he moves on the ice, he's smooth and deliberate, taking his time. And it translated in the passion of that moment, the way his hand had grasped the back of your neck, and the other had spread your legs to accommodate him standing between them…

…How his hardness had pressed against your clothed core.

Aemond had been aroused.

Everything you thought about him, about how he felt about you, could very well be misplaced.

You don't know how to feel about that.

It goes against everything you thought. Everything you believed.

And he still hasn't apologised. He'd said pretty words, all but those two you really needed.

Nothing would happen until he did. You'd make sure of that.

Torture him right back. It's the least he deserves.

Prick.

The hotel bar is better than anticipated, with several tables and chairs, even stools that line the front of the large oak counter on one side of the room. You don't usually partake in drinking, or at least much. But every now and then you feel you deserve it.

And right now for example, it's taking the edge off.

The large glass windows show you just how dark outside it already is, with the streetlights beaming through the single glazing. The North is different, obviously, but you didn't quite consider the weather.

Your muscles ache from doing your cardio, choosing to train on the ice tomorrow instead, the day before the match with Cregan and Sara. The hotel gym was nice, and each time you went into the hotel room to change, you worried about running into Aemond.

But luckily he was nowhere to be found.

Where he'd gone?

Not your problem, you surmise.

You were dressed once again in black, but nowhere near as flashy as the after-party from weeks before, but still a nice enough dress that it completely didn't work with the use of a bra. Hightower Management had organised a small get-together of the skaters currently in the North, as a way of showing support, despite all of you being quite literally competitors.

This includes the Singles skaters.

With that, they insisted you and Aemond look presentable.

You were there early, as a means of…avoiding Aemond in the hotel room. With so far, success.

A few figures begin to leak into the bar area, a few you don't recognise, but then a sea of silver-hair you actually would like to see.

Baela and Rhaena, clad in equally stunning blue dresses, bound up to you with gleaming teethy smiles. You stand excitedly meeting them in the middle, a shared female squeal of excitement is the only sound emitted.

"There she is!" Baela shouts, and both the twins envelop you in an equally tight hug.

"Jesus, guys there's only one of me, bit looser please" you joke, pretending to be out of breath.

They pull back, their silver curls sitting loose with silver accessories, "Our Ice Princess!" Rhaena jabs with a mischievous smile.

You can't help but roll your eyes, "Don't you fucking start, I've had enough of that"

Baela laughs, "had enough of your Ice Prince as well?"

You give her a warning look and the twins hold back their smile, dropping the subject as per your glare. Knowing how you can get.

"How is Pairs?" Rhaena asks,

You sigh, "Different" is all you respond, "How's Singles? Rhaenys giving you a hard time?"

They both groan comically at the same time, "is she? When is she not giving us a hard time? She's our grandmother"

You laugh, sipping your drink, "Ah yeah, forgive me, I do forget sometimes she's a gilf"

"She's not a gilf!" Baela retorts, making you snort a laugh. Almost dropping the glass in your hand.

"Who's not a gilf?"

You all turn and beam, "Jace! When did you get here!" Baela throws herself at him, as does Rhaena as soon as her sister lets go. Sometimes you forget they're cousins, they look so different.

"Hi Jace" you smile, "How have you been?" You ask giving him a hug, which he returns with one hand politely on your back.

"Alright, competitions kicking my ass though"

"Oh dear" you pout, faking a sad face and patting his shoulder, "You'll get over it"

"Thanks, you're so kind" Jace grins.

Over his shoulder you spot him, lurking in a corner with a phone pressed to his ear.

Aemond.

He's dressed all in black again, hair in a loose bun, with a button down and dress pants, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a chain that glints beneath the collar. You swallow at his expression.

He doesn't look pleased in the slightest.

But annoyingly, he does look good.

His eye flits from you and Jace, before realising that you're watching him, to which his attention falls entirely to you. You wonder if he's actually on the phone since he doesn't say anything.

"There she is. The Ice Princess" Cregan Stark obstructs your view for a moment and you smile politely.

"Hi, Cregan-umf"

Your outstretched hand in greeting is completely ignored as Cregan pulls you into a hug, his massive form completely swallowing yours.

"You're in the North, we hug here" he laughs, the vibrations rumbling through your chest, his hand politely in the middle of your back to gently squeeze the hug for longer than you'd think.

Your eyes immediately go to Aemond, over his shoulder. He hasn't moved an inch. But he's hung up his phone, slapping it on his thigh to shove into his pocket. You can't pin down what that look is, but the muscle in his jaw tenses when he looks at Cregan, softening into a smirk when the Northerner pulls away.

Your throat feels tight.

"I know you've been thinking about what we did, in the dressing room"

He doesn't look away, eyes trained on your body. Unabashedly raking over it.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about it"

"Drinks!" Baela announces, dragging you luckily to the bar, breaking your staring competition with Aemond.

As the night progresses, you get to know Cregan and Sara. They couldn't be more different from one another, despite being half siblings. Sara has a fire in her belly, and a competitive eye, whereas Cregan is like a big, muscly Northern golden retriever. He looks like the kind of guy who lifts at the gym in one breath and in another would be having afternoon tea with his grandmother.

The duality takes you off guard multiple times during the night.

Jace and Cregan at least seem very close, having trained together multiple times. They're like long lost brothers, the way Cregan has him in a soft headlock as they wobble back to the bar, is proof enough.

Sara leans close to you, "Is he always like that?"

"Who?" You ask, sipping the drink you've been nursing for hours. Not wanting to get drunk in the slightest.

She nods to the corner, "Your Ice Prince. Aptly named by the way he stares at you"

You follow her line of sight, your core instantly clenching at the sight of him. Perhaps you hadn't really realised it before but several of his top buttons are undone, showing more of his skin at a formal event than he had previously.

You swallow, "Oh, uh, yeah he is. Ignore him"

Sara smirks, "Girl, he wants to fuck you. Can you not see that?"

You turn urgently to her, cheeks ablaze, "That's not true"

Sara hums smugly, "Denial is a river in Egypt. He looked like he wanted to tear Jace's head off when you hugged him"

"Jace is just a friend"

"Oh good, so he's available?" Sara raises her eyebrows.

Now it's your turn to smirk, "Are you after him?"

She shrugs, "he's not bad looking. Guy like him might look harmless but I bet he's freaky between the sheets. With a massive c-"

"Sara!" Cregan interrupts, seeing your screwed up face, clearly having heard everything, "Can we have a moment alone?"

She doesn't even need a second, before she prances off in Jace's direction, giving him the big eyes. Cregan leads you to the bar by the small of your back, and you can't tell if he's oblivious to how intimate that is, or if it's intentional, but when he does it you can't help but look in Aemond's direction, who's being hounded by Baela, but clearly not listening.

Cregan smirks in Sara's direction, "Poor guy. Being in Sara's sights is never good"

You laugh, "She'll eat him alive"

"Quite literally I think" Cregan chuckles in return.

There's a pause as you lean against the bar.

"How's life with the Targs?" He asks, one large hand encircling a pint glass effortlessly.

You shrug, "Has it's trials and tribulations, but otherwise they've treated me well enough"

Cregan looks around before leaning forward, murmuring in a hushed manner, "All I would say is, be weary of the big guy"

You cock your head, "You mean Otto?"

He points his finger like you've hit the nail on the head, "Yeah, him. I heard he's a right fucking stickler"

You nod, "He's very particular" you smile, reassuringly, "I manage though"

Cregan is about to open his mouth when Aemomd steps forward, his tall stature rivaling Cregans as he makes himself known. The Northern man fakes a smile, nodding in greeting, but neither says anything.

Before you can inquire, Aemond's hand encircles your forearm, "We're leaving"

"What?" You ask wide-eyed, wondering from where this rudeness has come from.

Aemond tugs you away, and you wave goodbye to Cregan as well as Baela and Rhaena, whose eyes you catch across the room. Sara wiggles her eyebrows.

Aemond doesn't reply, so you fight against his grip, to no avail, "Aemond let go of me. Now"

It's clear Aemond is not listening, and if he is, he doesn't show it on his face. He even stops by the lift, pressing the buttons hurriedly, but once he sees which floor it's coming from, he grumbled and drags you instead up the stairs.

"Aemond, what the fuck is wrong with you!"

"Not having that northern cunt cosying up to you" he murmurs low, dragging you up the four flights of stairs to your floor. Luckily there's nobody there to see you both, it's so late at night.

His face is stoic, lips flat in a line, seething underneath.

"Are you fucking for real? Let go of me!"

It's only when you're in the hallway, stood before the hotel room door that you manage to pull your arm free of him.

"Are you fucking deaf?" You quip angrily, "what the hell was that Aemond?" You push against his chest as hard as you can, but he's built like a fucking brick wall and doesn't move an inch. Doesn't even lose his balance a little.

He doesn't say anything for a moment.

"Do I have to repeat myself? I'm not your fucking girlfriend Aemond! Stop treating me like one"

"You'd rather me let you have the likes of Cregan fucking Stark trying to get into your-"

"So what? What right do you fucking have to boss me around like you own me?" You retort, "besides he was just being nice!"

Aemond chuckles, "Oh yeah, just being nice. He only had one thing on his mind" he smirks, his gaze raking over your dress, "dressed like that, who knows what he was thinking"

"Excuse m-"

Down the hall, a room clicks open, the shadow of it moving barely before Aemond tugs you inside the hotel room out of view. He shuts the door and locks it quickly, his fingers once again curled around your forearm.

"I swear to god, if you grab me more time-"

Aemond scoffs, releasing and facing you, dwarfing you with his form as he approaches, "Or what, princess?"

You swallow, backing up somewhat when he takes his calculated small steps towards you. His chest level with your eyes, you see the chain poking out beneath the undone buttons, the slightest bit of skin…

"Don't call me that"

"Who can blame Cregan fucking Stark anyway? With you dressed like that" Aemond responds, invading your space even further.

Your throat goes dry, "What?.."

"The second I saw you in that flimsy little thing, all I've been able to think about, is how I'm going to take it off"

Through your fierce blush, you clench your hands, your core doing the same involuntarily, "you're delusional"

He hums a laugh, "You're cute when you're trying to be angry, princess"

You feel how short your breathing is, how your chest goes all tight. It feels like being hunted, when he looks at you like that. That mischievous glint in his good eye.

"What is your fucking deal, hm?" You retort, feeling a last rush of courage, "Does it give you some sick satisfaction making my life hell? First you hate me, then you're indifferent, then you're hating me all over again and now you're acting like th-"

His hand claps around your waist, squeezing painfully, tugging you towards him in a deep, near-desperate and dizzying kiss. Much like the first one in the dressing room, it's urgent, his lips prying yours apart to slip his tongue into your mouth, humming deeply at the contact with yours. His other hand quickly finds the back of your head, anchoring you with him and chests touching only barely.

Everything dissipates, he's a good fucking kisser annoyingly, and he sucks briefly on your lips, making the blood rush to them so that they're swollen from his attention.

Your brain, lost in the brief act of passion, kicks in finally and your hands push him away. Your lips part from each other with a wet click, your face noticeably flush. Aemond too, looks slightly flushed, but wears a smug expression.

"What the hell was that"

"You reciprocated" he answers matter-of-factly,

"In your dreams"

He hums, "So stubborn. Are you always like this?"

"Fuck you"

"In the dressing room, you were so intent to continue" he replies, stepping forward slightly from when you'd pushed him, "If we weren't due to perform, nothing would have stopped me from fucking you right on that table in your sparkly little get-up"

You can't deny how the air gets sucked out your chest when he says that. Hate and lust are head to head inside you, battling for dominance.

"You'd like that wouldn't you…"

It's the way he says the words, so low and calculated, with that lazy smirk. His lips just as kiss bruised as yours, the few strands of hair that fell from his bun, disheveled.

All of your pent up hormones from not having slept with anyone for ages, the memory of what he did in the dressing room, as well as the sight of him right here, giving you that fucking look…

Every fucking look he's given you the past few weeks.

The memory of his hand on your thigh, squeezing.

Every hand against the small of your back…

…something snaps.

"Fuck it" you whisper, advancing on him again, both hands cupping the sides of his face and kissing him fiercely again, putting all those bottled up emotions, good and bad, behind the intensity of it.

You feel him smile smugly against you, his hands rested on your hips, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress, "Fucking knew it" he murmurs between the breaks of both your hateful kisses.

One hand sliding round to the back of his head, you card your fingers into his hair, inevitably ruining whatever style he had it in, to pull him closer to you, intensifying the neediness of his lips against yours. You swear he moans at the tugging of his hair, but you don't even hear it, too concentrated on his teeth as they nip at your bottom lip, nursing the area with his tongue afterwards.

A full body shudder erupts through you, sending a gush of arousal straight between your legs. It makes you feel weightless.

As if that weren't enough, Aemond's hands drop, cupping and kneading the flesh of your ass, squeezing near-painfully. The unexpectedness of it makes you gasp into his mouth as he pulls your core that bit closer to his hips, where you can feel the evidence of his arousal hard in his dress pants.

Your hands can't help but explore him as well as he is for you, running across the planes of his well-muscled chest, feeling them strain under your touch like he's holding back. Your fingers run over his chain, dipping to undo the buttons with dizzying speed.

"Eager, are we?" He whispers cockily between kisses.

You shoot him a scathing look, punctuating your words with the rough undoing of more buttons.

"Do you ever shut up"

He doesn't reply, too entranced by the softness of your touch on his bare pale skin as it's revealed button by button. His own hands trace up your middle, over your ribs and straight past your breasts to the straps of your dress, tangling his fingers into one and them and pulling it over your shoulder. Not quite enough to expose any intimate part of you.

Fuck, he's teasing you.

His lips migrate past yours, his nose ghosting over your cheek to your neck, where his lips tease the sensitive skin with open-mouthed kisses, teeth nipping at the space where it meets your shoulder. It's rougher than anticipated, and a soft breathy moan slips out, only serving to spur him on.

His one hand on our waist pushes you back, your knees hitting the mattress sending your body against it. He follows you, cushioning the fall and looming over you, using one of his knees to edge your legs apart for him.

In the heat of it all you've managed at least to get his shirt entirely open, shifting the fabric from his shoulders, shamelessly appreciating the shape of him. Your fingers trail that little bit of hair leading beneath his belt, feeling how the muscles of his abdomen flex with the contact, hearing the whisper of a low moan in his throat.

It's only when your hand begins to massage the very obvious and, you hate to say it, impressive bulge of his erection, that Aemond lets out a shuddered quiet moan, his breath fluttering against your neck.

You smirk, "Eager, are we?" You tease, echoing his previous words.

It's like a switch flipped and Aemond rights himself slightly, one hand taking both of yours and pinning them above your head in a very sudden act of dominance. He revels in the shocked look on your face, his black shirt now forgotten on the floor.

"Keep them there. You won't like it if I have to ask twice, Princess"

His voice send a bolt of pleasure to your core, and you visibly swallow nervously, watching his hands dip to your thighs and pushing the fabric of your dress up to your hips.

You jump in your place as Aemond's hands brace your thighs roughly, parting them and bringing his lips to the sensitive skin on the inside, trailing them up slowly, teasingly, to place an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed core.

"You have no idea what you do to me" he murmurs against you, wrapping the hem of your underwear around his fingers and tugging them off your legs. The motion, as quick as he does it, leaves your lungs breathless for a moment as he descends and kisses the now bare skin on the crease where your hip meets your thigh.

"Aemon-"

Aemond's tongue swipes through your slick folds and he groans low at the taste which sends a deep thrum of want through your core, making everything seem just too much to bear. Too much and yet too little all at the same time.

"Fuck, baby…"

You can feel your thighs shaking against his grip as he keeps them parted for him. It halts every thought in your mind, back arching off the bed as he delves deeper, his tongue parting your folds to fuck you with the wet muscle repeatedly. It feels like he's trying to discover places inside you, as deep as they may be, to make you fall apart.

The angle has your lips parted with hurried breaths, head thrown back against the bed, struggling to keep quiet with the way his nose moves side to side against your aching bundle of nerves.

"Fuck…Aemond…"

It feels like as soon as the pressure begins to build in your belly, he comes away, his lips glistening with your slick, causing your face to heat up in embarrassment. His eyes gleam with mischief.

"What happened to that smart mouth, hm?"

Before anger even has a chance to reach you, he plunges two fingers knuckle-deep inside you, instantly curled up trying to find that sweet spot inside. Your thighs shut around his hand, effectively trapping him there, a slew of desperate moans filling the silence in the room, as well as the wet smack of his hand as he fucks you with his fingers.

" - ah, fuck, Aemond - "

He grins, "Fuck you're soaked for me…" he muses, increasing the intensity, pistoning them inside you, "...come on, baby…"

He finds that spot with infuriating accuracy, aided by the thickness and length of his fingers, stretching your pussy as he watches them disappear, covered in your arousal.

Your back arches impossibly, thighs squeezed tight. And he smirks in victory.

"There it is…"

Logic, reality, everything is just absolutely gone. Mind blank, and all you're able to think is just him. The pleasure he is giving you. His words. It's all just too much.

The coil in your belly threatens to snap at any moment, the pads of his fingers bullying your g-spot mercilessly. So much you can feel your slick soak his hand and the insides of your thighs.

And just like that.

It's gone.

Your crane your head to him, looking up as he kneels between your legs, outright moaning as he swipes his digits through his lips into his mouth. Tasting you.

Your clit throbs at the lewd action, as well as the fact he's enjoying it so much. Feeling your face flushed and heat bathing your skin.

His hands drop to his belt, "You look so fucking perfect like this" he says, the sound of the leather slipping from his dress pants sending a bolt of arousal back to the place you need him most.

"Don't look at me like that" he smirks, his fists closing around the buttons, "the first time I make you cum, it's going to be on my cock"

You would think of some kind of quip, but Aemond tugs his underwear down, his cock springing free, and his hand coming to stroke himself to full hardness. The motion has you captivated, and inadvertently makes your thighs press together.

Aemond is big. Perhaps bigger than anyone you've had before. He is slightly curved, leaning slightly to the right, and as he strokes himself, his thumb swipes whatever precum comes out his weeping pink tip all over his cockhead, sighing softly at the relief of it. Your breath is momentarily stolen once you realise how his large hand encircles it, making it clear how thick he is on top of all that.

Annoyingly, he has the prettiest cock you've ever seen.

As a last ditch attempt to keep up appearances, your eyes meet his.

"What makes you think I'd let you?" You challenge, "you've not apologised to me yet"

Quite unexpectedly, he smirks, laughing lowly.

"Oh, Princess" he whispers, one hand pulling the rucked up fabric of the dress at your waist and removing it, tearing the fabric over your head and leaving you entirely naked and exposed. The sensation of the fabric and cool air has your nipped harden to attention, and Aemond sighs appreciatively as he kneads one breast in his palm.

He leans down, his tongue darting out to tease the skin around your nipple, "I am sorry" he muses condescendingly, before closing one nipple around his lips, tongue swirling against it. You're unable to do anything but press your lips together to stifle a moan.

Aemond pays special attention, lapping at it like a man starved, humming and pleased at the reaction he gets when he grazes his teeth over it. He pulls off with a gentle pop, kissing the valley of your breasts, his cock hanging heavily against your thigh. So close, and yet still feels so far away.

He reaches away for a second to go for his wallet on the bedside table, but your hand moves quickly to capture his wrist. His piercing gaze looks down at you questioningly.

"I'm clean…" you say, face hot with embarrassment, "...and I'm on birth control"

Aemond grins wolfishly at the admission, leaning down to kiss and nip at your neck, "Someone's prepared"

You gasp when he drags the head of his cock up your folds, parting them only slightly.

"You just want it raw, don't you?"

From this action alone you can feel how wet you are, and when he taps his cockhead against your clit a few times sending sparks of pleasure up your spine, it's obvious when it smacks wetly against your skin.

"Now baby, it's just you and me. I want to hear you when I fuck you. Understood?"

You nod, dizzy from just how much he's teasing you.

"Just fuck me" you plead, annoyance colouring your tone.

He laughs through his nose and your mouth drops open when he pushes into you, splitting you open on his thick cock, slowly working his way inside.

"I'm going to fuck that little attitude right out of you"

Fuck.

Aemond bottoms out inside you, stilling for a moment for you to adjust but also for him to catch his bearings. He breathes in shuddered bursts against your neck, his stomach flexing and fists tightened either side of your head.

"Fuck, baby, you're so tight…can feel you squeezing me…" he moans softly against your ear, pushing himself as far inside you as he can possibly go. It has your eyes fluttering shut as his length tucks against that sweet spot, filling you aggravatingly perfectly, the walls of your pussy stretching deliciously to take him.

"Shit-Aemond…" you mewl as he shallowly fucks himself into you a few times, craving friction, craving what glimpse you saw of him earlier, "...please…"

Resting on his forearms, one hand ventures to your thigh to spread you further apart as he pulls almost all the way out.

"Seeing as you asked so nicely"

All air seems to be stolen out of your lungs and replaced with warming bliss as Aemond's slams back inside, his hips immediately pressing with a loud smack against you as he thrusts ceaselessly, holding both of your thighs in his palms.

With every harsh push inside, a soft, moan-like breath slips from your lips. Gods, when was the last time someone fucked you, as in properly fucked you, like this? Probably longer than you'd like to admit. That Highgarden guy left you high and dry, and even the guys before that, they probably thought girls had one hole, so knew little about how to pleasure you.

It's clear Aemond doesn't share this trait, and your thought process is immediately zipped from your past sexual encounters to right now as Aemonds thumb begins to deftly gather your arousal on it to circle around your clit, setting every nerve alight.

"Stubborn and a brat?" He muses, applying a delicious amount of pressure to that needy bundle of nerves, "I thought I made myself very clear, Princess. I want to hear you"

He punctuates his demand with two particularly harsh thrusts, your arousal sounding almost pornographic in nature.

Whether you want to or not, your lips part more to let your sounds of pleasure fill the room, the ceaseless sounds of your fucking alongside it. Your hands fist the bedsheets and Aemond hums appreciatively watching your breasts and body move with every motion.

He rewards you by increasing the speed of his motions, practically fucking you into the mattress. It's here that is the first time you see Aemond let his face show what he's feeling. That smug, cocksure smirk he has worn since arriving back at the hotel room drops, and his jaw slackens, his eye hooded to look down at you with reverence.

"Fuck-baby, I can feel you, you're going to cum for me aren't you-" he moans, his hips never letting up their pace, "shit-feels so good. Been dreaming of this for fucking weeks"

"Aemond-" you moan softly, turning your head, closing your eyes, feeling all exposed to him when he looks at you like that. The pressure in your gut is absolutely set to explode, and you feel that coil tighten impossibly.

Your throat tightens as Aemond leans down, his hips hitting the flesh of your thighs as he continues to piston his cock inside you, the chain around his neck dangling arousingly above you.

You feel him grab your face, turning you to face him, your eyes slightly hooded with pleasure but looking right at him. It's so intimate, it makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

His expression is serious.

"I want you to look at me when I make you cum"

Your hand joins his wrist, guiding him to your neck, and his jaw slackens again when he realises what you want. His fingers wrap around your neck, palm against your windpipe, and he just holds you there, feeling your pulse fluttering against his touch.

All you're able to utter before falling off the edge of your pleasure is, "fuck-"

Blinding white pleasure courses through your veins, your heart hammering in your chest, feeling every single thing Aemond is doing but ten times more sensitive. Being edged twice before certainly didn't help. Every thrust inside, brushing against your sweet spot, the way his thumb continues to press circles against your bud, has your orgasm extended in a long drawn-out shattered moan.

Aemond buries his head into your neck, his arms enveloped around you, letting your bud finally have a reprieve. Your thighs begin to shake as Aemond fucks you through it, overstimulation rocking through your entire body with the incessant bullying of his length against your sweet spot.

"It's alright, baby, I've got you" he whispers, his own tone strained. You can't help but sigh fondly at his words.

"Fuck-where-"

"Inside me…please"

Aemond feels you tighten impossibly around him one last time before he stills, hot ropes of his cum painting your walls and leaving an unmistakable warmth at the deepest parts of your core. Aemond says nothing, but moans helplessly against your neck and you feel his all-body shudder through your hold on his shoulders.

He fucks you shallowly, aching for the last moments of friction just as your orgasm subsides, replaced with a manageable dull thrum, practically able to fell your own heartbeat, and his with his presence inside you. The drag of his cock through your sensitive walls has breathless pants spilling from your mouth.

The silence stretches as Aemond stills, his cock softening within you.

You don't have time to consider what at all he's thinking, as he presses a chaste kiss to your jaw, significantly softer than anything you've both done since arriving back to the hotel room. It shocks you, the intimacy of it.

What had you expected him to do? Get up, pull on his clothes and leave?

Maybe.

You had no expectations with Aemond. So for him to do this, had your chest constrain almost painfully.

What did this mean?

Did he just want a quick fuck?

Had he done this with Floris?

What did it mean for your partnership?

You're almost disappointed in yourself that these are the first thoughts on your mind.

And yet despite the pleasure running hot through your veins even still, as Aemond props himself up to look down at you, his chest heaving with hurried breaths, there's something on his face, in his expression, that you just cannot read.

There's an uncertainty in not being able to read him.

And underneath that hum of pleasure, through your rapid heartbeat, there lies something that hurtles you deep away from it all.

Doubt.

Taglist 1 (Bold means I could not tag!)

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elizabethemerald · 7 months

Text

Girl's Knight

It was supposed to be girl’s night. Tim was on Comms so Barbara could be here, and the rest of the Bats had all but forced them to take the night off, each of them promising that they would handle the crime of the city so the girls could relax for one night. The plan had been a movie at the theater, dining out in their fanciest dresses that were usually only used for stuffy galas, then returning to the clocktower for drinks and makeovers. Not to mention looking through Babara’s cache of black mail videos of all the fails of the boys.

Of course, they still lived in Gotham. When did anything go to plan in Gotham?

The theater had been attacked by Dr. Freeze. He basically turned the whole building into a snowglobe. Since no one was inside it, Batman was just going to leave the building to thaw normally. So they should be able to enjoy movies there again sometime in April. The fancy restaurant turned out to be a front for a mob family and while they knew that, Jim Gordon had jumped the gun on cracking down and shut the place down. Babs was going to give her dad an annoyed call tomorrow about that one.

So now the trio of Barbara, Cassandra and Stephanie were at Batburger in their gala finest. The night could still be saved if they could just get back to the clock tower. Then Condiment King strutted into the Batburger. All three of them sighed and Cass and Steph started silently arguing back and forth on who would slip out to deal with him. No matter who stayed and who left, there were even odds of all of them getting covered in something foul smelling.

However all three of them were surprised when a pair at another table were the ones to rise.

Cassandra had of course clocked them when she entered, that part of her brain that she could never shut off had cataloged every person in the restaurant before she was even fully past the door.

The woman was tall, taller than any of her brothers. Even taller than Bruce. She might even be as tall as Wonder Woman. She had long flaming red locks that cascaded down her back, restrained only by a teal headband. She had sat facing the entrance and had clearly clocked the Batgirl trio as fighters as well. She was well muscled and moved with the practiced grace of a trained martial artist. When Condiment King had appeared she had seemed more annoyed than scared or truly bothered by him.

Her companion was skinny and small in the same way that street kids usually were, the same way Jason had been and even Cass herself. Like no matter how much food he ate it would never be enough to make up for not getting enough as a kid. Even though he had his back to the entrance he had still been aware of every person as they came and went, cocking his head and tracking them by sound alone. He looked to be the same age Cass was. Cass could tell they were siblings, though they looked just about as different as possible.

The two of them had conversed in rapid sign language, the woman speaking and signing, while he listened and signed back. It made Cassandra’s heart leap, seeing someone else just like her. She had just happened to sit so she could read some of his signs while showing that she used ASL as well. Though he apparently didn’t like his food very much because he kept saying something about “nasty burgers.”

Right before Condiment King had walked in, the guy had sat up and shivered before looking around warily. His sister had sighed and carefully wiped her fingers on her napkin, unhurried by whatever had spooked him. Then one of Gotham’s least effective, yet most annoying, rogues walked in and declared he was robbing the place.

The guy stood up and pulled what looked to Cass to be a highly scientific soup thermos and snuck up behind Condiment King as he was threatening the tired, underpaid and overworked cashiers. Cass couldn’t help but notice how silent he walked, he glided over the ground like a dancer as if gravity was only the merest of suggestions. He thumbed a switch on the side of his thermos and a brilliant blue beam poured out, catching Condiment King’s attention.

Condiment King turned and almost jumped out of his skin when he saw a random civilian holding a soup container threateningly. The rogue and the stranger both looked down at the thermos in confusion. He opened his mouth as if to speak but instead some horrible combination of sparking electricity, cracking ice and distant screams came out. Somehow Cass could almost hear words past the noise and she was amazed that she could understand him.

“Huh. I would have sworn you were one of mine.”

Condiment King scowled past his confusion and readied his mustard cannon.

“Danny, now's not the time for quips.” His sister said as she pulled him out of the way of the yellow fountain. “I’m not letting you back in the apartment if you smell like mustard.”

Then she pulled a baton from the back of her belt that extended into a bo staff. Two quick strikes had Condiment King disarmed and on the ground, a third and he was dazed enough to not be a threat.

“Well done, Jazz!” Danny had set his thermos down on the countertop so he could excitedly sign to his sister, then he looked around in confusion. “But then what triggered my ghost sense?”

No sooner had he finished his signs, than a translucent being phased through the wall, a box in his hands. He looked to be dressed as a regular warehouse worker, though he glowed, floated and apparently could ignore solid walls. He immediately began flinging frozen hamburger patties from his box around.

“I’m the Box Ghost! Ghostly master of all things rectangular and corrugated! Beware!”

“Ah, there you are Boxy.” Danny said in his strange and crackling voice. Cass could see that Stephanie and Barbara couldn’t understand what he was saying as they both clamped their hands over their ears at the cacophony.

Cass watched Danny with this Box Ghost. Clearly the two knew each other, she could practically see the rapport Danny had. She couldn’t keep herself from admiring Danny’s form. He flowed like water around the frozen patties. Even when her brothers were at their most agile and graceful, there was an element of elegance that was missing from their movements. Yet with Danny he skated around the projectiles.

He was also aware of every person in the restaurant. One of the frozen burgers would have easily missed Danny, but hit one of the others, except he caught it and spun it right back at Box Ghost. That level of awareness was difficult for even seasoned heroes, and showed how often Danny had faced overwhelming odds, he knew exactly what would happen if he failed to be aware of someone in the line of fire.

She appreciated how in control he was of his strength. She could see it in the bunching and tightening of his muscles that he wasn’t using anywhere near his full strength in this fight. It was a level of restraint she knew far too personally. It was the restraint of someone who had hurt others before and would never do so again.

“Alright Boxy, you’re making a mess. Time to be done” Danny said, grabbing the thermos once more and again flipping the switch. This time when the beam of light caught the ghost it began to pull them in like a vortex.

“Darn your cylindrical containment device!” The voice of the Box Ghost diminished until it completely disappeared along with the ghost and the beam of light. Danny spun the thermos in his hand for a moment before he clipped it onto his belt with a flourish.

Cass glanced at the other Batgirls and, unsurprisingly, saw Steph almost salivating over the amazonian woman. Steph liked her women strong, tall and hyper competent. Meetings with the rest of the Justice League usually left her vibrating with barely controlled desire. She had almost needed a vacation the first time she met Big Barda. Steph was already half way up out of her seat to introduce herself.

Barbara seemed similarly impressed, though as she was currently dating Dinah Lance, her interest was different. She had her phone out and was typing rapidly, no doubt hacking the security system of the Batburger to remove any evidence of their actions, as clear a sign of her approval as anything.

With a smile Cass also stood and followed Steph. The two Batgirls would absolutely introduce themselves to these two, and hopefully that introduction would eventually lead to a date, or maybe more.

#dp x dc #danny fenton #danny phantom #jazz fenton #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #dead silent #danny x cass #jazz x steph #babs x dinah #dinahbabs #I could write more for this #a sequel or something #maybe even a whole dating fic #what would you like to see?#girl's knight

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sarahscribbles · 1 year

Note

Imagine kneeling before Loki, his legs splayed sluttishly wide as you begin to worship him. Soon, the only parts of him exposed to you are his thighs and his cock (because the black suit stays on, of course)…

Okay, bye! 😈

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐢𝐭

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢'𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖𝟖𝟒

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠)

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Loki’s back hits the wall with a satisfying thump, though it isn’t nearly as satisfying as the deep groan that follows in quick succession from between his parted lips. Yours latch on instantly to the exposed skin above the collar of his shirt - it’s soft and warm and begging to be covered in your marks.

You want to see splotches of purple and red blossom on his throat and spell out your name- reminders to anyone who looks that this god is yours.

Hungrily, you graze your teeth along his skin and he shivers violently in response, all while rolling his hips so you can feel the aching evidence of his arousal press against your lower stomach.

“Darling….ah -” He’s interrupted by your sharp nip to the skin just below his jaw. “Darling…we’re…we’re already late.” His complaint is half hearted, you know; already his hands are resting on your hips to pull you flush against him.

“Don’t care,” you answer, nibbling along his jaw in just the way he loves. As expected, he whines shamelessly and angles his head to grant you better access, silently begging you for more.

It’s more you’re all too happy to give him.

The party downstairs is in your honour, but you don’t care. The sight of Loki in that black suit has turned you feral and you aren’t leaving the room until you’ve thoroughly worshipped him. How can you resist the black silk that ripples across his broad chest, so soft that it calls you by name to reach out and trace the outline of his abs - that alone is enough to have him keen.

But it’s when your hands snake around his stomach to glide down his back and squeeze his ass - perfectly hugged by those dress trousers - that you know the party is the last thing on his mind.

He groans freely at your touch and looks down at you through half lidded eyes. “Little minx,” he says hoarsely, the beginning of a smirk pulling at his lips.

Oh, he’s well aware of the effect he has on you.

You reach up and tangle one hand in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss so slow and so deep that you briefly forget how to breathe. “Are you complaining?” you ask when his lips finally leave yours, though they linger in such a way you half expect him to devour you.

His green eyes glittering before you are blown wide with lust. “Definitely not,” he answers, raising a hand to briefly tweak your nipple through the thin material of your dress.

You don’t break eye contact as you fold to your knees before him, watching his eyes darken and his lips form a perfect O of surprise. When your hands reach for the leather belt around his hips, they snap out almost of their own accord.

It doesn’t take long to free him, to have his aching cock right in front of you already dripping and begging for attention. The tops of his pale thighs and his throbbing erection are all that’s visible from beneath the expensive black material because you aren’t letting him take the suit off, not even for a second.

Arousal pools in your core like liquid sin, becoming all the more molten when Loki lets you coax his thighs wider with a simple press of your hand. “How are you real?” you breathe out, admiring the sight of him still fully dressed but fully exposed before you. “And how are you mine?”

You can’t help but place tiny bites along his inner thighs and your reward is his small cries of pleasure with each nip of your teeth. “Don’t…don’t tease me, darling…please,” he whines in little more than a whisper, his hips rolling desperately off the wall in search of your mouth.

Before he can beg again, your lips are wrapped firmly around his cock.

His sharp cry of pleasure echoes off the walls. “Fuck, darling…yes!” He grunts through gritted teeth as you worship him. It’s sloppy and messy and saliva drips down your chin, but Loki’s moans and grunts and whimpers make it worthwhile.

Nothing compares to the sound of him coming undone.

“Norns…fuck…darling I’m…I’m going to come,” he warns in a ragged voice.

By now, his hand is twisted in your hair, holding you on his cock. You grip the base of it in one hand while your mouth continues to work him towards release. Barely a minute later, you feel him explode down your throat in thick, hot ropes. His groans of release sound musical, and you stay on his cock until his hand goes slack.

He doesn’t say a word as you tuck him away - he can’t - but his heavy panting is all the reward you need. You’re shaky as you get to your feet, but Loki’s hands are quickly at your elbows.

When you look at him he looks drunk on the pleasure you’ve just given him. Eyes cloudy, cheeks pink, and lips still glistening. His hand quickly twists to the base of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss that sends butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“I’m afraid we’ll be leaving early tonight, my darling,” he murmurs when his lips leave yours again. “I’m going to require all night to return the favour.”

Drabble taglist: @cake-writes @the-lady-amphitrite @kinky-faerie @muddyorbsblr @lunarnights95 @fandxmslxt69 @joyful-enchantress @goddessofwonderland @liminalpebble @ladyofthestayingpower @currish-rosewolfe @loopsisloops @coldnique @fictive-sl0th @mischief2sarawr @simplyholl @mochie85 @littlespaceyelf

#loki #loki smut #loki x reader #loki imagine

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janaispunk · 7 months

Text

only bought this dress so you could take it off

series masterlist • this is part I

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: I was on my summer vacation last week, and I’m suffering from severe Dave York brainrot lately, which inspired a vivid daydream of Dave taking me on a little trip and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I was planning to keep it a oneshot, but there are so many more ideas for this floating around in my head, so a part 2 miiight be happening. Please read the warnings, this one’s nasty! (it’s the murder daddy energy)

word count: ~10.4k (this was supposed to be a nice little pwp, idk what happened) (Dave was holding me at gun-point)

summary: You have been sleeping with Dave York for a few months, keeping things casual, when he suggests to go on vacation together. You’re not sure what to expect, but you agree, and Dave takes very good care of you.

warnings: bits of angst, dubious morality (Dave is cheating on his wife), kinda unhealthy relationship dynamics, age-gap implied, alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, Dave pulls her hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, rough sex, semi-public touching, sir kink, degradation kink, rough oral sex (m receiving), unprotected piv (reader is on bc in my head, but it’s not mentioned in the fic), dirty talk, Dave is a menace, spanking, choking, edging, spit kink, restraints, idiots in love, let me know if I missed any!

this is explicit 18+ content, minors do not interact pleaseeeee

Your phone starts buzzing on your work desk around 8 AM. You just got into the office and are starring at your monitor blankly, nursing a to-go cup of too expensive coffee and questioning your life choices. A regular Tuesday really.

You groan and flick your eyes down to your phone, your mind way too exhausted to deal with whoever is trying to contact you right now. You read the name on the screen and do a double take, your tiredness immediately forgotten. You hastily grab the device and press the green button to accept the call.

“Hey,” you say, trying your best not to sound just as eager as you suddenly feel. He doesn’t need to know the effect a simple call from him has on you.

“Good morning, sweetheart. What took you so long to answer, huh?” his voice sounds in your ear, calm and composed as always, but with a hint of teasing. You bite your lip, thankful that he can’t see how just hearing him speak has a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“S-sorry, just work and everything, you know?”

You can’t help the little sigh that you let out -work really has been a nightmare lately- and he chuckles sympathetically.

“You poor thing. Speaking of work, I actually have a favor to ask you.”

He knows fully well that he doesn’t need to ask you favors - you’d give him everything he wants, without question. His usual demanding tone is lacing his words and you involuntary clench your thighs together. God, you’re down so bad for this man.

This, as you need to keep reminding yourself, married man, who lives the perfect suburban life with his wife and their two kids. He’s not in love with you, you’re well aware of that, and you’re trying your hardest not to fall in love with him either.

You don’t know what exactly is going on between him and his wife and you don’t pry. He’s told you that things between them aren’t working out anymore and that they’ve agreed to stay together and play happy family until their girls are older. You’re not dumb, you know that this is the kind of story that every cheating man tells the other woman. And you’d probably call him out on his bullshit, if he were any other man. Hell, you wouldn’t have gotten involved with any other married man in the first place.

But Dave isn’t just any man and he’s got you wrapped around his finger ever since you met in a hotel bar a few months ago. You had just been stood up at said bar and Dave had been on a business trip, spending the night there. He came up to you, looking more handsome than any man should have the right to, bought you a drink and had you following him up to his room in the blink of an eye, which led to sex that was easily the best you had ever had.

Now, Dave calls you regularly, mostly when he’s close enough to meet up, but also some nights when he whispers filthy things into your ear until you come on your own fingers because he is too far away to put his hands on you.

You like to think that he cares about you, that you’re not just the willing means to an end and that you can actually give him something that he can’t get anywhere else. Something soft, a person that cares for him and gives him the chance to be soft as well. Because they exist, those moments of softness, in between tangled sheets and laughs shared in the darkness of your room, his fingers mindlessly dancing over your body when he thinks you’re already asleep and his lips pressed against yours a little too urgently when he’s saying goodbye to you.

But most of the time, Dave doesn’t like to care. He also doesn’t like to be soft. He’s ruthless, his edges sharp like a knife and he likes coming at you hard. He doesn’t tell you exactly what he does for a living, but you suspect that it’s dangerous and violent. He needs an outlet, somewhere he can let his aggressions run free, someone he can control.

This, you can definitely give him. You let him take it out on you when things get too much, you give up all control to him, and you love it. And he knows that you do. Sometimes you wonder if that’s the only reason he’s keeping you around, but you can’t bring yourself to believe it.

So, when your phone lights up with his name, you answer, trying to conceal your desperation to hear his voice, the hold he has on you, even if you’re fighting a losing battle. And when he’s asking for a favor, you hum questioningly, even though you already know that your answer will be “yes”.

“Take the next week off, and pack a bag. I’m having a few free days, so we’re going away for a bit, I’m picking you up on Saturday.”

He’s basically giving you an order, not stopping to ask if you’ve already got plans, if this might be a bad time, anything. Do this, be there, stat. Because he knows that you will do as he says and you know it, too.

Excitement bubbles up in you, the prospect of spending a whole week with Dave, something of a vacation, from what it sounds like, is more than you had ever allowed yourself to even daydream about. This is not what your relationship is about, it’s not what you do. Except that… apparently it is?

“I- okay, yes. That- that sounds great, Dave.” Your delight at his proposal is clear in your voice. “Where are we going? What do I need to pack? Do I need to prepare anything?”

He chuckles again and you can picture him shaking his head.

“No doll, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just bring your passport and pack for warm weather. And, sweetheart?” His voice drops an octave and he’s basically purring in your ear. “The sluttier, the better.”

He hangs up without waiting for your answer. You’re left to spend the rest of your workday in a daze, your panties soaked and your head busy with already cataloguing your entire closet and which things you’ll pack.

The days pass you by in weird chunks of time. On one hand, you can’t wait for Saturday, while on the other hand, you feel terribly unprepared, causing anxiety to creep up on you several times throughout the week. Every vacation you’ve ever been on has been meticulously organized and planned out by yourself and the lack of knowledge that you’re dealing with right now is entirely foreign to you.

What if you need a certain vaccine for wherever you’re going and you don’t have it? What if the flight has an early check-in that you need to take care of? Has Dave booked a hotel? How are the reviews? What do you need to prepare for?

The nervous urge to be ready for every kind of situation that you can’t satisfy right now is threatening to drive you crazy and you need to remind yourself more than once that this is Dave that you’re dealing with. Not one of your ex-boyfriends that would’ve come up with some half-assed plan that lacked in several vital points and required you to take care of things yourself eventually.

Dave is even more thorough than you, he doesn’t leave anything up to chance and he doesn’t forget things. You’re still reeling from the mere fact that he’s planning to take you away for a whole week. You’ve never spent that much uninterrupted time together and you honestly hadn’t thought that he would want to. This is couple stuff. And you’re not a couple. You’re just someone he sleeps with occasionally. You need to remember at least that.

You have texted him a few times, trying to get more information about the trip, but he hasn’t budged. You only manage to find out that he’ll come pick you up Saturday morning and that you’ll be gone for a whole week. And that you should pack a lot of bikinis.

“You make sure you’ll look good for me, and I’ll take care of the rest,” his text read. Followed up by a stern, “Stop worrying.”

You try taking his words to heart and get prepared in the one way you can: Buying lots of skimpy dresses and bikinis. You vividly picture him taking them off of you and it works. You do stop worrying.

Saturday finally rolls around and you’re ready, suitcase fully packed and dressed in a skirt so short that it will probably have you freezing your ass off on the airplane, but you can hardly bring yourself to care.

His taxi finally pulls up to your apartment building and he jumps out to meet you while the driver loads in your suitcase. You can’t help the giddy smile that’s on your face when Dave’s arms envelop you and your lips are on his before he even gets a greeting out. He chuckles as he kisses you softly, one of his hands cupping the back of your head, before he pulls away slightly to look at you. You’re breathless; the sight of him in his crisp shirt, the top two buttons undone to show off a sliver of his broad chest, his sharp jawline and those brown eyes trained firmly on you already enough to drive you a little crazy with need for him.

“Miss me that much, huh?” he murmurs against your lips, one hand still in your hair while the other one trails down to the hem of your skirt and skims the backside of your thighs before he gives your ass a rough squeeze. You nod quickly as a breath leaves you, not quite a moan but enough to clearly show him the effect his touch immediately has on you.

“Desperate little thing,” he grins and adds a playful slap to your backside before pecking your lips again and leading you towards the waiting car.

He slips in beside you, his hand immediately finding your thigh again and gently rubbing against the bare skin, creeping below your skirt’s hem again and again as you take off in the direction of the airport.

You’re falling into your familiar routine with him, the first effects of seeing him and the flare of your chemistry with each other calming down a little and allowing you to actually talk with him like a normal person, not a lovesick teenager. You’re filling each other in on the few weeks since you last saw each other, the little occurrences that you wanted to tell him about but didn’t have the opportunity to at the time. He’s not much of a texter and you understand that; he’s busy with his job and his family whose existence you still need to keep reminding yourself of.

His large hand doesn’t leave your thigh once throughout the drive, keeping a hold on you that feels especially possessive whenever his grip tightens. At the airport he grabs both of your suitcases and purposefully strides off, leaving you to walk beside him with nothing but your little purse. It’s not a grand gesture by any means, but still, no one has ever taken care of things for you like this and your want for him is bubbling inside of you.

He drops your baggage off at check-in and hands you your boarding pass. You can’t help the squeal that you let out when your eyes find the destination and you excitedly throw your arms around him.

“Are you serious? How did you know that I always wanted- But Dave, that’s SO much, I can’t have you pay for all this, I-“

He shushes you gently, though you can tell that he’s clearly pleased with how happy you are about where you’re going. He presses a kiss to the crown of your hand and rubs his hands over your shoulders.

“Of course you can. I wanted to do something nice for you, sweetheart, you’ve been so stressed out lately. And I-,” he trails off, looking almost a little bashful, “I wanted to spend my time off with you, without interruptions, you know.”

You think that he wants to add more, but he doesn’t, his expression slightly regretful like he accidentally said too much already. He barely verbalizes his feelings and you don’t push it.

“Thank you Dave, it’s- thank you. I really appreciate it.”

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss him softly, trying to convey what you feel but can’t put into words. How you’re not even there yet and it’s already more than anyone has ever done for you. How ‘I wanted to spend my time off with you’ has butterflies erupting in your stomach, no matter how hard you try to suppress them. How it has you wondering if maybe, just maybe, you might be more for him than just the girl that he’s fucking on the side because his marriage is shitty. How much you wish that you were.

But you don’t have time to ponder all this because he possessively wraps an arm around your shoulder and leads you off towards security control, then to the gate where he gets you your favorite Starbucks without even asking for your order, and onto the plane, where he lets you have the window seat and his hand finds its way back onto your thigh.

You brought a book to read on the flight but you can’t make it through one page without losing your focus. Dave’s hand keeps climbing higher and higher, alternating between gripping your inner thigh tightly and drawing featherlight circles on the soft skin, and the heat that had been smoldering within you since you first laid eyes on him today is slowly but steadily becoming too much to bear.

Dave seems annoyingly unaffected, his face as composed as ever as he asks questions about your book, and you know that he notices the way you’re squirming in your seat, and how much he’s enjoying the fact that he’s the one to make you act like this.

You’re in the middle of a sentence when his fingers suddenly move all the way up your thigh and brush lightly against the fabric of your underwear. It’s a barely-there touch, but you’re so wound up that it’s enough to cause you to interrupt yourself with a loud gasp. He retracts his hand the tiniest bit, still hovering between your thighs, and tuts at you.

There’s a dark glint in his eyes that hasn’t been there moments before. You know this look and it takes everything in you to not clench your thighs together in anticipation of what’s to come. He raises an eyebrow, the condescension written clear on his face and his voice a low rumble, quiet enough for only you to hear.

“Shhh, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want everyone on here to know how much of a slut you are for me, now would we? Huh?”

He pinches the soft flesh on your inner thigh roughly when you don’t answer fast enough and you bite your lip, suppressing the whine that is threatening to come out of you.

“N-no…” you whisper and Dave arches his eyebrow even higher, looking at you expectantly. You gulp.

“No, sir.”

A small smile plays around his lips and he places a kiss on your cheek. “Good girl,” he mutters and his hand creeps up again until he’s rubbing against your panties, which you know are absolutely soaked by now. Your hips chase his touch and he chuckles darkly as he withdraws his fingers, completely this time, until he’s holding them up to your face. You can tell that the fingertips are shiny with the arousal that leaked through the fabric and you feel yourself blushing.

“Lick it off,” he demands, and your eyes widen. “H-here?” you dare to ask. His gaze hardens.

“You wanna talk back to me?” His voice is calm, but you can sense the tension that’s rolling off of him. You should be disgusted, both by his request and the way that he’s talking to you, but you’re not. This is how you want him, how you crave him.

You shake your head hastily, acutely aware that questioning him was probably enough to get you into serious trouble later on. The thought sends another wave of desperate arousal through you.

“Then lick. It. Off. I’m not gonna tell you again.”

His tone is clipped, his face a hard mask, but your eyes flick down momentarily and the growing bulge in his pants tells you that he’s not as unaffected by the situation as he wants you to believe. You train your eyes back to his face and hold his gaze as you lean forward and obediently clean his fingers with tiny kitten licks. His jaw tenses as he finally draws his fingers back from your tongue and runs them across your cheek, smearing the traces of your spit there.

A small whine slips out of your throat as you feel fresh wetness flooding your panties and he grins before he kisses you again, murmuring a “Good girl” against your lips. He leans back into his seat, his hand finding an almost innocent position close to your knee.

“Why don’t you read a little more, sweetheart? We’ll be there soon.”

He flashes you a smile that could pass as genuine but you catch the glint in his eyes as he clocks your dazed expression and your slightly parted lips. You nod dumbly and pick the book back up, but not a single word that you read actively registers in your mind.

You try catching glances at Dave, until by the fourth time, he pinches your chin between his fingers and turns your head back forward. “I said, read,” he murmurs into your ear. You know he gets off on this stuff, giving you stupid little orders. And on the fact that you let him. That you get off on it, too.

Your arrival happens in a blur. Dave leads you off the plane and through the smallest airport you’ve ever been to. Your brain is still a bit muddled from the unsatisfied arousal he’s ignited in you and now you’re excitedly turning your head left and right, trying to get in as many impressions as you possibly can. You’re not paying close attention to what’s happening and you’re thankful for the way Dave is taking charge without question. You’re happy to link you fingers through his and let him lead you wherever you need to go.

He retrieves your luggage, walks you out of the airport and to a waiting car. You spend the drive staring out of the window, your eyes wide, taking in all the beauty around you. It’s like you’ve arrived in literal paradise. You tell Dave as much and he chuckles, lifting your hand up to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles. The unexpectedly sweet gesture has you blushing and a soft smile plays around his lips.

The hotel is, quite frankly, insane. If you had been worried about the amount of money that he’s spent on this trip before, it pales in comparison to how you’re feeling now. The building is nestled against the foot of a mountain, lush green trees surrounding the front and the road leading up to the entrance, while it opens up to a small, private bay where turquoise waves calmly roll up against the whitest sand you’ve ever seen.

There’s glass walls everywhere, giving you an almost 360° view as you step into the lobby. You know that you’re gaping and Dave actually laughs at your expression as he walks you up to the reception desk to check in. You’re not listening closely, too busy taking in your surroundings and convincing yourself that this is your real life and not some extremely realistic daydream that you’re having while sitting at your work desk.

Dave finishes up and wraps an arm around your shoulders to lead you to the elevators, stepping inside and pressing the top button. The doors slide closed and you can barely think about the fact that you’re apparently staying on the top floor before you’re being whirled around and end up with your front pressed against the elevator wall with Dave’s hands roughly shoving up your skirt until your ass is exposed to him.

Your surprised giggle morphs into a moan as his hand comes down hard to slap it, before gripping the flesh so roughly that it borders on painful. He presses his body up against yours and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as his other hand slides up to cup your breasts over your tank top.

“Dave- we can’t-,” you gasp just as the elevator comes to a halt and dings. He growls and flicks your skirt back down, but keeps you pressed against his side as the doors slide open again. Thankfully there’s no other people around on this floor to witness your surely utterly disheveled state.

The dark glint is back in his eyes as he drags you along to your room number. He stops in front of the door and turns you towards him, his eyes trained on your face as he stares you down. His voice is low, his tone calm and controlled, but somehow it’s more threatening than if he shouted at you.

“You think you get to tell me what we can and can’t do? You think that’s for you to decide?” His hand grabs your face, his fingers digging into your cheeks, and you whimper. “N-no sir, I’m sorry, I just thought-“ He slaps your cheek, not hard enough for it to hurt, but enough to shut you up. Enough to remind you of your place in this dynamic. Your eyes flicker around hastily, your mind acutely aware of the fact that you’re in a public setting and that someone could walk in on this at any time. His hold returns your face, forcing you to look at him again.

“You don’t think, sweetheart. I decide and you listen, isn’t that right? If I want you to show off that slutty little ass of yours for everyone to see, then that’s what you’ll do.”

You nod to your best ability with his hand still grasping your face, mumbling another, “I’m sorry, sir.” You can barely think, the heat between your thighs almost making your legs buckle at this point. His thumb moves to play with your bottom lip and a cruel smirk grows on his face.

“You will be, doll. This is the third time you’ve disrespected me today. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, huh?”

“Yes, sir.” You can’t help the way you subconsciously bite your lip and you know that your desire is written all over your face, your pupils probably blown wide and your cheeks hot.

“Christ,” he chuckles and seals your lips with another kiss, “you’re a fucked up little thing.” You can only nod, prompting another laugh from him.

He steps up beside you and digs a keycard out of his pocket, holding it up against the door that responds with an affirmative beeping sound and a lock clicking. He pushes the handle down and swings the door open, holding it for you, a hand on the small of your back as you tentatively take a few steps inside.

The gasp you let out now isn’t fueled by your arousal, which is momentarily forgotten, but by your utter inability to believe what you’re seeing. You’re standing in a small hallway which opens up into a gigantic living room that’s probably bigger than your entire apartment and completely lined with glass walls, revealing a balcony and the shimmering sea several floors below you. You slowly walk to the adjoining bedroom that houses the easily biggest bed you’ve ever seen and a continuation of the glass walls. From what you can see, the en-suite bathroom features a lot of white marble.

You turn back to Dave, who has followed you silently and seems to expectantly take in your every reaction. “You’re crazy,” you tell him and he grins as you struggle for words. “This is- it’s so expensive, it’s- it’s too much, really. You’re crazy,” you repeat and he walks up to you to take your hands. His thumbs rub little circles over the skin and he smiles softly.

“As I said, I wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve it, sweetheart, you do.”

“But- but it’s-,” you trail off, mortified to realize that your bottom lip is trembling and your eyes are getting wet. You’re not going to cry in front of Dave, not because of a stupid hotel room. More like a fucking suite, your brain unhelpfully provides and your lip trembles harder. Dave quickly wraps his arms around your shoulders, his eyes searching your face.

“But it’s what?” he implores, his features displaying a look of such genuine concern that you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen on him before. “Sweetheart, do you not like it?”

You shake your head, trying to think of some way to explain that doesn’t make you seem totally pathetic. “It’s-,” you draw a deep breath, “it’s just- this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Like, ever. I just can’t believe you would- for me…” You trail off, not sure how to explain that you can’t grasp why he would be willing to spend this amount of money on you. “What I mean to say is, it’s beautiful. Just- thank you. Really, thank you.”

You smile at him and the relief is incredibly evident on his face before he pulls you into a hug, his arms engulfing you, one hand stroking you head softly. For once, his hands don’t wander down your body, he just holds you tight and you allow yourself to think that you could get used to this.

You feel awkward after your little breakdown, but Dave doesn’t mention it again. He lets you traipse around the suite to explore and unpack and follows you when you step out onto the balcony where you inhale deeply, enjoying the salty air and the view down to the bay. You think that it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life and you flash a beaming smile at him.

“You like it?” he checks again and you nod eagerly. “Good,” he mumbles and steps up behind where you’re leaning against the railing, one of his arms finding its way around your middle and his head resting on your shoulder. “That’s good.”

You stay like that a little while, taking in the scenery in front of you in peaceful silence, listening to the sound of the waves that roll against the shore and watching as the sun is sinking lower, a soft golden light spreading out across the sky and reflecting in the water.

Eventually, one of his hands slowly starts gliding up your torso. He cups your breast and his fingers graze your quickly pebbling nipple. You moan quietly and instinctually push your hips back against his crotch and the growing hardness there, which causes him to chuckle as he bends down to run his lips over your neck, leaving small kisses and bites on the sensitive flesh.

You’ve been riled up and let back down so many times today that you feel a bit crazed at this point, the need for him between your legs downright painful as you grind your hips against him and another desperate moan escapes you. “Dave, please… I need you.” Your head falls back against his chest and his other arm loops around your middle, pressing you against him as he tuts softly.

“So needy that you’re forgetting all your manners, huh?”

He pinches your nipple, hard, before his hand sneaks higher and loosely wraps around your throat. The anticipation of what is -hopefully- finally about to happen has you feeling lightheaded. You don’t care that you’re outside, that anyone could look up and easily spot you on the balcony, you would let him fuck you right there, as long as he just finally fucks you at all. You haven’t given him an answer and the hold around you throat tightens. Not enough for any real pressure, but enough to remind you of the power he holds over you.

“Please, sir,” you whine and he chuckles again.

“Not yet, doll,” he whispers into your ear and his hand leaves your throat, then he turns you around until you’re face to face. You can see that he wants you too, it’s written on his features clear as day, and you can barely fathom his level of self-restraint right now. You open your mouth, ready to beg again, ready to beg for anything to relieve the throbbing pain between your thighs, but he shakes his head curtly and even in your lust-filled haze, you know better than to keep going and shut your mouth again.

He grins at your obedience and gives your lips a quick kiss. “Good girl. You’ll get everything you want soon enough, don’t worry. Just gotta be patient a little more, okay?” You nod, and dazedly let him take your hand and lead you back into the bedroom. “But first, we’re gonna have a nice dinner. Think you’re gonna need the energy, doll.” His grin turns downright feral and a small shudder runs through you. “Show me what pretty things you packed, yeah?”

You hum your agreement and turn to rummage through the closet, pick out a dress and fresh underwear and wander off into the bathroom. You half-expect him to stop you and make you change in front of him, but he doesn’t say a word. Maybe seeing you naked would be even too much for his restraint right now.

You change into the dress; it’s one of the new ones that you bought only last week while daydreaming about how Dave would take it off of you. It’s a short silk dress, dark red and with an open back that basically only consists of a several straps that form a loose pattern over your skin, which is why you forego a bra and only pull on a black thong, a lacy, barely there scrap of fabric. You also redo your makeup, adding a lipstick in a shade that matches the dress and freshen up your hair, then step out into the bedroom again.

Dave is still wearing the black slacks that he wore all day, but seems to have changed into a new, creamy white dress shirt, while you were busy in the bathroom. The top three buttons are open, which is one more than usual, exposing more of his broad chest than you’re used to and you know that you’re wearing an expression of awe on your face. He’s so beautiful. He always is, he’s stupidly attractive, really, but it’s hitting you especially hard right now, in these new surroundings and with the prospect of having him all to yourself for one whole week.

He’s eyeing you as well, his gaze roaming hungrily over your body. You become acutely aware of just how short the dress is, how much of your naked skin is on display. You like your body, and you’re not ashamed of showing it off, but this place is fancy. You know you look good, but suddenly, you feel a bit awkward. “Is- is this okay? Because, I-,” you stammer a little, “I didn’t expect this kind of hotel and you said- you said you wanted slutty, so…” You trail off, biting you lip nervously.

Dave’s gaze softens. It’s giving you whiplash, how quickly he switches between the domineering, controlled, sexually charged persona that he’s displaying around you most of the time, and this sweeter, caring side. The side that wants to do something nice for you. He takes a step towards you.

“Turn around for me, sweetheart.”

You do, giving him a little twirl before turning back around and meeting his gaze. He looks… you don’t know how to describe it. The hunger for you that you’re familiar with is there, but it’s also something else, something… more. “You look perfect,” he assures you and you can’t help but believe him. Then he continues, “take off your underwear.” You blink at him and he cocks an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want any panty lines when you’re looking so gorgeous with that pretty dress.”

You know fully well that the tiny thong that you’re wearing isn’t leaving any panty lines, but you also know better than to argue. The thought of having nothing to protect your modesty under the very short hem of your dress makes you feel exposed, a little uneasy, which is probably exactly what he wants. Always testing your limits, always looking to see how far he can push you, how far you’d go to please him.

You slide your thong off and make to toss it in the direction of your suitcase, but he clicks his tongue and holds his hand out towards you. You put it into his waiting hand and he stuffs it into the pocket of his pants. You suppose that he’s planning something and that you’ll get to know about it when he wants you to, which isn’t now, so you keep your mouth shut and step closer to him. “Dinner?” you ask softly and lean on your tiptoes to kiss him. He returns the kiss, his tongue entering your mouth swiftly, giving you a taste of how much he wants you, before he pulls back and grabs your hand instead, leading you out of the suite and back to the elevator.

It’s just the two of you when you get on, but two floors down, you’re being joined by an elderly couple who you greet politely. As soon as their backs are turned to you, Dave’s hand is under your dress, running a finger through your slick folds. You manage to swallow your surprised gasp, but flinch slightly, and you see him smirk out of the corner of your eye. He slides his finger up and down your slit, brushing your already oversensitive clit a few times, and you bite down hard on your lip to keep the sounds inside that threaten to spill out of you.

When the elevator finally stops, he withdraws his hand and waits until the couple is a few steps away from you, until he leans down to whisper in your ear, “Good girl, learned your lesson I see. Now, what do you say?”

“Thank you, sir,” you breathe, your legs a bit wobbly and your arousal already leaking out of you.

“That’s right.” He pats your ass in a sort of condescending appreciation and you follow him into the dining area.

The hotel’s restaurant is located on the first floor, a beautiful, light-filled space that opens onto a big terrace which seems to float over the ocean and gives you a gorgeous view of the sunset’s colors that have become even more intense since you left your room. You’re being led to a small table for two and you gape at the view, causing Dave to laugh at you again, but it’s a warm laugh, that feels like he’s genuinely happy about how much you’re enjoying yourself.

You try reading through the menu, but you know maybe half of the things that are on there, much less how anything tastes or what you would prefer. You shoot Dave a sort of helpless look and he grins. “Want me to order for you?” he asks and you nod gratefully, trying not to feel embarrassed about how out of your depth you are. He orders something, along with a bottle of red wine, which you very much appreciate. You don’t know much about wine, but this one tastes really good. It turns out that he ordered some kind of fish for you, that you still have no idea how to pronounce right, but now you know that it’s freaking delicious. You tell Dave as much and he gives you another smile that seems much too soft and overwhelmingly right at the same time.

Dinner with him is much easier than you had anticipated. Apart from your excitement about the whole trip, you had been a little nervous about spending an entire week with him, having to make much more conversation than you usually do. It’s not that you never talk, but sooner or later, you end up naked with him whispering filth into your ear. You don’t go out on hour long dates, maybe a drink at a bar, but no big dinners and extensive talks. Until now.

Now you know that he’s a great listener, making you feel heard and understood, never once giving you the impression that you’re boring him. You also learn more about him, about his past, though he stays vague about his current job and the situation with his family. But it’s nice, being with him like this. Another thing that you could get used to, but that’s also another thought to shove into some far away corner of your mind. Be thankful for what it is, don’t become greedy for more, you tell yourself.

After two glasses of wine and a dessert that you could have died for, watching the sun set over the ocean until the night sky took over, you’re buzzing with happiness, but also excitement for the next part of the evening. The whole dinner was better than you could have imagined, but you have also been turned on for hours, with the man that you want right in front of you. When Dave finally stands up and pulls your chair out for you, you all but jump up and flit to his side. He chuckles and looks at your eager face. “Don’t get too excited, sweetheart. Tonight isn’t gonna be all that fun for you.”

The dark glint in his eyes is back and you’re subconsciously clenching your thighs together. The simple thought of what he might do to you is enough to push the arousal that has been simmering inside of you to the forefront of your mind again. You’re amazed how quickly he can sink back into that domineering character that could make you do almost anything with a simple snap of his fingers. He wasn’t like that at dinner, he didn’t once give you the impression that you’re below him or that he doesn’t respect you, separating this sexual dynamic that you’ve established from other parts of your interactions with clean precision.

He leads you out of the restaurant, his fingers grazing the bare skin on your back and you’re once again reminded that you’re completely bare beneath the skimpy dress that you’re wearing. His hand dips lower, playing with the hem that feels like it’s barely covering your ass. Goosebumps are forming on you lower back and your thighs and he chuckles darkly.

He keeps playing with your dress during the elevator ride, his fingers sliding underneath and grazing your ass repeatedly, until you’re fully riled up again. You’re a little nervous now. He promised to be rough several times today and you don’t doubt that he will. You’re excited as well, you want him rough, crave his control over you, but still…

He takes out the key card and opens the door as you follow him quietly, waiting for instructions. You can feel the tension rolling off of him. As soon as the door clicks shut, he’s on you, crowding you back against it, his hands grabbing your wrists and pulling them up above your head while he leans down to capture your waiting lips.

The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongues as he devours your mouth, towering over you and keeping your wrists fixed to the door while his whole body is pressing into yours. You arch into him, helplessly trying to get him closer as you moan into his mouth when he bites at your lower lip, keeping it in between his teeth as he pulls back a little before letting it go. You whine, the quick stab of pain transforming into pleasure and traveling straight to your pussy, which causes you to spread your legs wider and grind your hips against him.

He gathers both your wrists in his large hand, still pressing them against the wall above your head, and lets his other hand roam over your body, grabbing at your waist, bunching up the dress there. “Looked so good tonight, all dolled up in your pretty dress…” he murmurs with his lips now dragging against the soft skin of your neck, occasionally nipping and sucking at the skin, “and all this just for me, sweetheart?” He bites down right below your ear and your hips buck against him.

“Yes, yes sir, fuck…”

Your breath catches in your throat when he abruptly pulls the neckline down to expose your breasts and scratches his fingernails over your nipples. He pinches one hardened bud between his nails and pulls slightly before he lets go and watches how the flesh bounces back, then he repeats the motion on the other side. You’re gasping, tears are welling up in your eyes, it hurts, but it hurts so good, your pussy is completely soaked and you just want him to finally, finally fill you up.

Then he steps back, his jaw flickers as he watches you, still pressed against the door, panting softly and with a dazed expression on your face.

“Get on your knees.”

You get down immediately, hoping against hope that maybe he’ll let you come sooner when you’re being good now. He allows himself a cold smile at your eagerness and steps closer until you have to crane your neck to look up at him. He opens his belt and slacks in sure, controlled movements, the only evidence of his own need for you being the massive bulge that’s right in front of your face. He doesn’t waste time, shoving his pants and underwear down in one move and letting his cock spring free.

You gasp quietly, your mouth opening on its own accord at the sight of his massive length and you look up at him hungrily. “Open wide,” he tells you softly, almost gently and you obey, sticking your tongue out and watching mesmerized as he lets his tip rest on your tongue for a few moments. He pulls back slightly, smearing a mix of your saliva and his pre-cum across your cheeks, then slapping you with his cock, which causes you to moan. “Filthy little thing,” he murmurs and sinks into your wet mouth in one hard thrust.

You gag almost immediately, your throat contracting around him and he groans as he grabs your head and holds you still. Tears well up in your eyes and you already feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. He finally lets go and you desperately suck in a lungful of air before he starts thrusting into your mouth again, hitting the back of your throat every time and causing you to choke around him. The way he pushes you around, uses you for his own pleasure has a new rush of wetness flooding your pussy and you’re itching to touch your clit, just a little bit.

He notices how you’re squirming beneath him, how one of your hands is inching closer between your legs and he stops his thrusts, his cock still taking up most of your mouth, and looks down at your face.

“You wanna touch yourself? You like having your face fucked like a whore?”

You nod as best as you can and hum desperately, gazing up at him through your tear-soaked lashes. He furrows his brow, looking down at you with that wicked glint in his eye. “You know how to ask properly, I didn’t hear you sweetheart,” he tells you, sinking even deeper into your throat and you fight to suppress another gag. You hum again and look at him pleadingly; he’s well aware that you can’t ask him anything with his cock filling your throat like this. “Guess you don’t want to, then,” he shrugs, “hands behind your back. You’re not touching that pussy without my permission.” You whine, your clit throbbing painfully for attention, but you obediently cross your wrists at the small of your back.

“Poor thing,” he coos and pats your head in mock-sympathy, then moves his hand back to hold you in place as he pounds into your throat with renewed force. You gag around him, tears flowing all over your face and drool streaming down your chin and onto your tits. He sinks into you again and again, holding you up by your head and making you sputter around him, desperate to somehow draw air into your lungs. “Take it,” he growls, “take it like the little slut you are, down on the floor for me. That’s how you like it, don’t you?” He finally pulls out of you and slaps your cheek when you don’t respond immediately. “Don’t you?!”

“Y-yes sir,” you rasp, gasping for breath, tears and spit still all over your face.

He crouches down cups the cheek that he just slapped, his thumb rubbing at the tear-stained skin under your eye. You’re positive that you look a mess, mascara running down your cheeks and your dark lipstick smeared all around your mouth, mixing with your spit. Your hands are still behind your back, the arch in your body making you push your chest out and putting your tits on full display for him. He starts toying with your nipples again and you want to cry. An orgasm feels so close, yet so far away. You feel like you could come with just a few strokes on your clit, but you have no idea how much longer he will string you along until he finally deems it enough.

“You’ve been such a good girl, sweetheart. So patient all day, I bet you’re dripping all down those pretty legs right now, aren’t you? So desperate and ready for me, yeah?” His voice is a low growl in front of you and you whine your agreement. It’s not enough for him. “Say it. Tell me how desperate my little slut is to finally get fucked.”

You hesitate, your eyes dropping to the ground in front of you. “I-,” you gasp as he roughly grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, waiting for you to do as he said. “I need you to fuck me, so badly. I’ll be so good, I promise, just p-please, sir,” you whine, feeling pathetic, your voice trembling and your face burning. No matter how many depraved things he gets you to do with him, for him, talking like this still gets you embarrassed. Which is precisely why he makes you do it.

“And what are you?”

You feel your face heating up. “Your s-slut, sir.”

He grins as he adds another slap against your cheek. “Damn right you are.”

He straightens back up, tugs himself back into his pants and looks down at you. “Bedroom.” You scramble to get up, but he shakes his head and lands a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down again. “No no. You’re gonna crawl.” You sink back on your hands and knees, the amount of embarrassment and arousal that you’re feeling making you dizzy, and you look up at him shyly.

He nods approvingly and bends down to tug your dress up higher until your bare ass and pussy are on full display. “Good girl, right where you belong. Off you go, come on.” You bite your lip and start crawling towards the bedroom, his footsteps right behind you and you can feel his eyes drinking you in as another groan grumbles in his chest.

You stop in front of the bed and give him a questioning look. He gestures for you to stand up and you get back to your feet with trembling knees. He steps closer, his hands ghosting over your shoulders and toying with the straps of your dress.

“Such a pretty dress,” he murmurs as he slides them off your shoulders, the garment slipping down your body, leaving you bare except for the heels that you’ve been wearing all evening. You’re painfully aware of the power dynamic between you, how you’re completely naked and at his mercy while he’s still fully dressed. His hands roam over you, leaving goosebumps in their wake and come to rest at your hips. He squeezes the flesh there, then turns you around until you’re facing the bed.

One hand reaches up to your neck and he bends you over until your upper body is resting on the mattress, your back arching and your ass up in the air for him. He takes a step back and lands a slap on your backside without warning. You yelp, your body instinctively lurching forward and your legs shaking with the strain of keeping your balance in your heels. He notices, of course, and says, “You better keep those pretty legs steady, doll,” before reaching forward and massaging your stinging flesh. You hum, trying to get your muscles to cooperate, but your legs won’t stop trembling.

Dave’s touch leaves your body and he sits down on the bed beside your head, his eyes searching your face. “What’s your color, sweetheart?” he inquires, softly stroking your cheek. “Green,” you answer without hesitation. It has already been a lot and you’re sure that he’s nowhere near finished with you, but you like it like this. You crave it. He nods, his touch still gentle on your face.

“And what do you say when you need me to stop?”

“Red,” you whisper, leaning into his touch. “Good girl,” he murmurs and leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek, before he stands up again and disappears from your field of view.

“So,” his voice drawls from behind you, “I think I’ll give you twenty-five tonight, how’s that sound, sweetheart?” You gulp, but know that there’s only one acceptable answer.

“S-sounds good, sir. Thank you,” you breathe, the apprehension clear in your voice, and he laughs quietly.

“And what did you do to deserve this?”

You bite your lip again, struggling to think through the fog of arousal clearly enough to give him an answer that he’ll be satisfied with. “I d-didn’t listen and talked- talked back at you, and…” you trail off when his hand dips between your legs, swirling through the wetness there before retreating again. You inhale sharply and continue, “…and that was disrespectful. I’m sorry, sir, it won’t- it won’t happen again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Dave mumbles and his fingertips ghost over your lower back. “But that was a nice little speech, sweetheart. Starting now, you’re gonna count them out for me, yeah? Lose count and we’ll start over.” You nod and your hands grip the sheets as you try bracing yourself.

The first slap meets your flesh, not as hard as you know he can go, but hard enough to get a small scream out of you. “One,” you force yourself to say and he hums appreciatively, before landing the second slap exactly on the same spot as the first one. “T-two,” you whine, his handprint searing on your skin.

You make it until eleven before your legs give out, your trembling muscles collapsing under the task of keeping you upright in your heels while your body is scrambling to get away from the oncoming assault on your ass cheeks. You fall forward, your knees hitting the mattress right after Dave’s hand connected with your backside again. “Twelve, I’m sorry, sir,” you choke out.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, stepping closer and running his hands soothingly over your back as he searches your face, a look of soft concern on his face. “What’s your color, doll?”

“Green. Still- still green, sir,” you breathe out and you mean it. You feel like you’re on fire, but in the best way.

“Yeah?” he questions, “want me to continue?” and you nod your head eagerly. The concern washes away from his face, his jaw tensing and his eyes growing cold again. “Fucking masochistic little slut,” he growls and you moan, your walls desperately clenching around nothing.

He lets you stay with your knees on the bed, your ass still up high for him, until you’ve finally reached “twenty-five, t-thank you, sir.” You’re sobbing at this point, your skin feels raw where he hit you, but you’re also damn near delirious with want for him.

Dave strokes your skin gently, telling you what a good girl you’ve been and how proud he is of you, and you bask in his praise. Then his hand travels lower, slipping between your thighs until his fingers are running through your folds, feeling how soaked exactly his rough treatment has left you. “Fuck doll, you’re dripping. You really liked that, huh?” he murmurs as he pushes two of his thick fingers into you, sliding in easily and making you moan loudly.

He thrusts into your tight heat roughly, causing you to arch your back and spread your legs wider, your release so close that you can almost taste it. He keeps going until he feels you growing tighter, starting to clench around his fingers, and slides them out of you abruptly. You sob, feeling your orgasm subside again.

“I think you were about to come without permission, sweetheart. You just promised me you’d be good, didn’t you? Guess your greedy little cunt just can’t help herself, huh?”

You whimper an apology and receive another slap to your abused skin, causing you to jerk forward. “No doll, you stay right here. Give me your hands,” Dave’s stern voice orders from behind you. You let him take hold of your wrists, leaving you completely at his mercy in the position that you’re in, and he digs your panties out of his pants pocket, looping them around your wrists until they’re tightly secured.

When he’s satisfied with his work, you finally hear the rustling of him taking off his clothes. Without warning, you feel him swipe the head of his cock through your drenched folds, teasing you with the tip, grazing your clit and causing you to gasp, then sliding back until he’s prodding at your entrance. You whine loudly and try pushing your hips backwards, but his hold tightens around you, keeping you in position.

“Not so fast. Be a good girl and beg for it,” he requests, in a voice that still sounds so controlled, while you feel like you’re barely able to form words anymore. You’re not embarrassed anymore, the promise of his cock so close to where you want him wiping all inhibitions from your mind.

“Please sir, I need you so badly, please fuck me, I’ll do anything, just please…”

You feel pathetic begging like this, but you couldn’t care less. Dave lets out a strained groan behind you, and then he’s pushing into you in one strong thrust. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve taken him or how wet you are, his size always stings at the first intrusion and you wail, your body being pushed forward by his movement and he grips your bound wrists, holding you steady as he starts pounding into you.

“So fucking tight and wet you little slut, fuck you take me so good, being such a good girl, fuck…” Now his voice sounds wrecked behind you and you moan loudly at his words and at the way he’s splitting you open. This is what you had been craving for hours, the feeling of him thrusting into you again and again, and you push your hips back to meet his thrusts, to get him even deeper.

One of his hands grips your hair and pulls, forcing you to arch your back even more and slightly shifting the angle where he’s pounding into you, hitting something so delicious inside of you that you almost come on the spot, your walls already fluttering around him, but you’re not allowed, your scrambled brain reminds you, you need…

“Please sir, I’m gonna come, can I please…” Your voice breaks off into a sob when his movements slow down and he pulls out of you, pushing you forward until you’re laying flat on the bed, and he starts working on releasing your bound wrists.

“Good girl, asking for permission,” he praises, “but you’re gonna look me in the face when I make you come tonight.”

He frees your wrists and turns you around so that you’re on your back, looking up at him through teary eyes, desperate for your release. “Poor thing,” he coos as he gets between your legs, placing his large hands on your thighs and spreading them wide. His cock nudges at your entrance but he doesn’t sink back into you, his gaze trained on your face and his hand wandering up to play with your bottom lip.

“Open wide,” he tells you and you obey, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out. His breath has turned heavy by now and he hovers over you, hungry eyes roaming over your face, your open mouth and your wet eyes. He draws back the tiniest bit, then he spits into your mouth, his saliva coating your tongue and you whine, the filth of the whole situation making your pussy clench once more.

“Keep it open, show me.”

You hold still, your mouth wide open, feeling his spit mixing with yours as you stare up at him, waiting for his next command. “Now swallow,” he finally says and you do, showing him your empty mouth afterwards and he grins. “Fuck, you’re such an obedient slut, being such a good girl for me. You’d do anything right now, wouldn’t you? Fucked all the thoughts out of that pretty little head, yeah?”

“Yes, anything,” you whimper, and he sinks his cock back into you without preamble. Your eyes widen at the sensation of being full again and the new angle, moans of his name falling from your mouth and you wrap your legs around him, grasping at his wide shoulders to hold onto something as he starts pounding into you again with raw strength.

One of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing until you feel light-headed, intensifying the feeling of his deep thrusts into you. Pleading whispers leave your lips, but you don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore, if you want more, if you want him to stop.

His movements speed up even more, hitting spots inside of you that have you moaning and squirming underneath him and the hand on your throat travels down to your breasts, toying with your nipples, pinching and pulling and sending delicious waves of pain through you.

You’re so close again, when his hand slides down to rub at your clit, making you scream and throw your head back, your eyes pinched close. He grabs at your face and forces you to look at him.

“Oh no, you’re gonna look me in the eyes when I make you come, are you gonna come sweetheart?”, he growls. You whine and nod desperately, your eyes shining with tears. “Go ahead then, come for me, squeeze my cock like the good little whore you are.”

He swirls his thumb over your neglected clit once more, gives you a particularly hard thrust and your vision swims, your whole body tensing up before you bear down on him and fall apart. You’re clenching rhythmically around his cock as the orgasm tears through your body in pulsing waves and you’re pulling him over the edge with you as he climaxes with a deep moan, spilling his release inside of you.

You’re a trembling mess, your breath stuttering and your mind still caught up in a blissful haze, and you’re only vaguely aware of him collapsing beside you, but you register the tender kiss that he presses to your cheek before he gets up and retreats to the bathroom.

The next thing you feel is the bed dipping as he sits down beside you again and you slowly blink your eyes open. Maybe it’s the post-orgasmic bliss that you’re still lost in, but you think to yourself that he looks especially beautiful right now, his face relaxed with a small smile playing around his mouth, where the stubble of his beard is showing through at the end of the day, and with his brown eyes warm again now as he looks at you.

“May I?” he asks and holds up a damp towel. You nod, returning his smile and watching as he brings the towel down between your legs, cleaning you up and soothing your hot skin. He gently turns you over and spreads some kind of healing balm over your burning cheeks, careful not to touch you too roughly. He also cleans your face, his soft touches almost enough to lull you to sleep.

When he’s finished, he maneuvers you around, causing you to giggle, until you’re in the middle of the bed and he can pull the covers over you, sliding in beside you and wrapping his arm around your middle. You shuffle closer until you’re securely tugged into his side, your breath fanning against his broad chest.

“You good?” he asks, looking down at you and placing a kiss on your forehead. “Yeah,” you smile up at him and stretch to reach his mouth with your lips. He kisses you back, his hand coming up to play with your hair, and you smile even wider. As much as he likes to be rough with you, you think that what he actually needs, is the softness.

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 3 months

Text

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 3,146

Warnings | +18, yandere, smut, Stockholm syndrome, body worship. pussy worship, pussy eating, tongue fucking, fingering, breast/nipples worship, explicit language and descriptions, vaginal sex, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, manipulation, obsession, this is not for minors

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! Here is the eighth and final chapter of Happy Ending ❤ The idea of publishing the last chapter of this story excites me, I was really pleased to hear that you enjoyed it and there will be surprises coming for you! I have already prepared drabbles for Happy Ending and a spin-off about Jimin, I really hope this will make you happy ❤ Please write to me if you would like to be added to the taglist of the spin-off ❤

And I apologize for the errors that there will be in the chapter, it has been a difficult week 😭❤

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @douknowbts, @aiiselle90210, @fewercascade , @mageprincess7, @m00njinnie, @get-that-brain-working, @whipwhoops

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

When Y/N reopened her eyes, it was now past twelve o'clock. She stood up, recognizing Jungkook's bedroom, becoming aware of what had happened a few hours ago, her cheeks blushing at the memory of how she had held him in her mouth until he had fully climaxed, had she been good? Well, she had never given a blowjob in her life, but copying those same videos and drawing from her previous hard readings, she must not have been that bad. She got out of bed, determined to take a shower as well as brush her teeth. Not that she minded the taste of cum, she had already noticed that it didn't bother her from that time on the couch, but it still wasn't a pleasant sensation after hours of good sleep. She washed herself thoroughly, feeling a strange discomfort between her legs, it was like a sense of dissatisfaction pulsing right in the center of her heat, she tried to pleasure herself under the hot water, but the image of Jungkook giving her pleasure on the couch could not drive it away, she swallowed, fully understanding what her body was communicating to her. She wanted Jungkook, only he knew exactly what points to hit and where to reach. She bit her lips undecided whether or not to ask the boy for a little help, got dressed with that doubt in her mind and went to the kitchen, but she did not find him, the boy was not present in the living room either, and she with wide eyes ran to his office.

He was there most of the time and, to her relief, she found him there that time as well, from the open chink she saw the boy hunched over drawings, the tall, powerful figure rekindled that intimate desire, which she found inexplicable. Why on earth did he have that powerful effect on her? She decided to enter at a leisurely pace, stopping just behind him. Obviously with a job like his, over the years Jungkook had learned to sense a person's presence well in advance, which was precisely why he was not surprised to see her there; he turned with a smile. "Are you hungry?" Y/N squeezed into her shoulders, approaching the desk. She looked carefully at the drawings that Jungkook was evaluating, read at the corners of each sheet the name of each of her classmates, tightened her lips and with a nimble, quick gesture tossed that useless block to the side, they were not works of art, there was no love in those lines, Y/N knew this, she always heard her classmates complaining that they could not play during drawing hours, just as she heard them praising Jungkook's beauty, yet discrediting his lessons. "Wasted," they would say, "With that body he would look great as a team coach," they continued.

They did not appreciate Jungkook's work and talent, but she was different, that's why she was his. The boy studied the girl's attitude confusedly, "Is everything okay?" Y/N felt great, she was no longer thinking about her studies or those two who called themselves parents, she was fine. She was fine with Jungkook and only that mattered, every flap of her mind was about the boy in front of her. She longed for him, she wanted him, she loved him. With those thoughts in her mind, she jumped over the desk, positioning herself right in front of Jungkook, who watched with surprise at the girl's actions. She was wearing a low-cut sweater and white shorts that day, leaving the rest of her legs uncovered, legs she swung briskly before smiling. "Yes, I'm hungry," she said, Jungkook nodded, already ready to get up to prepare something for her - he still didn't trust her to put a knife in her hands, Jimin's experience had been shocking enough not to follow suit - but Y/N leaned over to pull the chair, and consequently the boy, closer to the desk. Jungkook tilted his head, then a light bulb went off and he threw himself against the back of the chair, licking his lower lip. "What would you like to eat?" he asked her, playfully.

Y/N shook her head, "In truth I would have another kind of hunger, something that sees you eating me," she clarified bluntly, by now she understood that with Jungkook she would no longer have to mind explicitly requesting far more intimate attention. The latter's fingers closed over the cleavage of her sweater, pulling downward to expose her full, soft breasts, still enclosed in her pearl-colored bra. "And how should I eat you today, sweetheart?" he murmured, leaving a moist kiss on the portion of her breasts that protruded briskly without restraint. Y/N trembled, her intimacy already on fire from mere words. Jungkook went up the column of her neck with soft, sweet kisses, reached the earlobe, which he took between his teeth and nibbled, before pulling and whispering, "Should I be sweet and slow?" with one hand he untangled the bra hooks, immediately crept underneath, cupping one soft breast, the girl trembled, squirming when one of her peaks was teased, "Or does my little girl want something more brutal and fast?" he pressed firmly against the nipple, rubbing his mouth against the tip as it plumped.

Y/N threw back her head, holding onto her elbows, "S-Sweet... and slow, please" she sighed, Jungkook hummed, sucking the tender little button, he broke away slightly to blow hot air on it that made the girl shiver, Jungkook realized how sensitive she was and sadistically pulled the nipple lightly between his teeth, watching ravenously as the girl's fingers tightened between them. "My little girl wants to be treated like a princess," he crooned, "You're right, it's not yet time for you to find out what a whore you can become under my command," he growled and Y/N's intimacy tightened at his words. He undressed her by throwing her sweater to the floor along with her bra, leaving to his own will that divine feast, which he found himself adoring by holding her still by the hips, while with his lips he took to tormenting her other nipple, pushed it against his palate crushing it over and over again, heedless of the fingers that pulled at his silky locks, he breathed in the scent of her skin as he swallowed his own spit, trying not to drool around her sensitive flesh. With his mouth busy pleasantly torturing the young woman's breasts, covering them with kisses and signs of love, he reached down with his hands to unbutton her shorts, Y/N timidly helped him in the task, and soon that garment was slipped off her legs.

Jungkook began to knead through the fabric of her panties the tender folds of her burning pussy, pushed two fingers against her clit, aroused felt the little pearl pulsing under his fingertips, and pulled completely off her chest, biting eagerly at her hips and then lower and lower, getting to where he was really expected, Y/N lay fully on the desk, watching Jungkook's head between her legs with glazed eyes, throwing them back at the boy's first lick, she trembled so much that Jungkook had to spread her legs wider. With her panties now on the floor, Jungkook took care to lick her swollen clitoris again slowly, feeling on his taste buds the flavor of each velvety inch. He found her pussy incredibly soaked, which did not, however, prevent him from spitting between her folds, making the stretch even smoother and wetter for his tongue, which gathered its essence before sucking that throbbing pearl into his mouth, caressing it occasionally with his tongue.

Y/N felt herself lost in a whirlwind of forbidden sensations and overwhelming emotions, she spread her lips wide in search of air, thrusting her pelvis more and more against the boy's voracious mouth, who pushed his tongue deep into her tight, wet slit, touched a particularly sensitive area with the tip that made Y/N stiffen, who moaned louder, speechless. "J-Jungkook, faster, please!" she exclaimed, watching him from her obscenely spread legs, but the boy smiled, before licking her folds once more, focusing occasionally on her increasingly charged and aching clitoris.

"Oh, no... you said sweet..." he left a kiss on the folds, "... and slow..." he finished, lightly penetrating her entrance with a finger, slowly pumping between the moist walls that fluttered and tightened as he passed. Y/N felt like crying; she did not think Jungkook was so sadistic in bed. "Jungkook, don't do this to me," she cried painfully, the boy seemed to think of an answer, continuing to stuff her entrance by adding another finger, which made the stretch more difficult because of the tightness of the young woman. "Will you let me go on?" he observed the distraught figure of the girl, lying on his desk with her head turned upward, nervously biting her lips. Y/N did not understand what he meant at first, then slowly came to it and did not know what to answer. "But...I've never done that," she murmured, hissing at the hot tongue that returned to make her legs tremble, striking the swollen pearl in quick tongue strokes, she squeezed the young man's head between her legs, trying to prolong that pleasurable torture, but Jungkook pulled away.

He longed to be her first and only man, knowing he had a virgin in his hands teased his animal side, which roared with pleasure. "I could introduce you to a pleasure you don't even imagine you can achieve, Y/N," he said seriously, the girl thought about it, "So you want to come like this?" in asking, he sucked violently on her swollen clitoris, encircling it with his tongue lasciviously causing her to scream, "For me it would be no problem, love... but would you allow me to introduce you to something that will unite us inextricably?" the rough, dark voice hit the girl's belly, she felt herself ignite more. The idea of joining him in a more intimate and close way appealed to her, although she harbored much fear about it; she knew it would also be painful. "Will you make me feel good?" she chirped shyly, and Jungkook melted into a smile, nodding. "I will always make you feel good, my beautiful girl." At that point she made her decision, agreed to take that extra step forward, defeating her fear. Jungkook stood up, taking her in his arms with unprecedented ease, Y/N looked at him confused. "The bed I think is more comfortable as the first time," he justified himself, kissing her forehead. He carried her to what would effectively become the bedroom of both of them, laying her in the middle of the mattress, between the sheets that already smelled of them. Together.

Jungkook began to undress, that was the first time the girl saw him completely naked, she wordlessly admired the tattoos that crept around his arm, and then noticed the toned and smooth muscles, his swollen lips thanks to her juices stretched into a sly smile when he also shed his jeans and underwear, showing her once again the perfect shape of his legs and his already taut and swollen cock, although the boy paid no attention to it, watching attractively the girl's soft and more downsized body, which looked like a tender little thing in comparison to him. He climbed on all fours on the bed and crawled toward her before stealing a kiss from her, entwining their tongues and tasting their flavors, Y/N distinguished a spicy note on the man's tongue, which she guessed was just his essence, Jungkook tenderly encircled her by one hip, while with his other hand he went back to teasing her folds, trying to make her relax again. "Look into my eyes, Y/N," he murmured on her lips, the girl did as he told her, losing herself in the night sky of his incredibly sweet irises, "I'll try to go slow, okay? It will only hurt a bit at first," he told her and she nodded, resting her head between his neck and shoulder, focusing on the erotic sensations of the man's fingers in her pleasure center.

Jungkook encircled her clit with his thumb, squeezing it gently before caressing the delicate pearl, retrieved some liquid pleasure from her tight slit in order to spread it over the bundle of nerves, lubricating and softening the delicious rubbing, Y/N moved her hips against the hand, moaning at the pressing pleasure that expanded to the tip of her hair, moments later Jungkook penetrated her entrance, parting her walls in a slow and pleasurable stretch, adding a third finger shortly afterward that made the girl frown. It didn't hurt, but it stung slightly, Jungkook left soft kisses on her neck, trying to distract her. He succeeded, felt her relax, and his fingers gained speed as the girl's moisture increased along with her arousal. Small sounds rhythmically came out of her throat, her eyes closed to focus on the sensation as best she could, not missing the way Jungkook's thumb still rolled slowly over her stiff clitoris. Jungkook reached to touch a slightly more elastic spot, he realized there he had to stop, she was ready enough to take him without too much pain.

He brought his fingers out of her intimacy and Y/N suddenly felt empty. She saw him move away to stand between her legs already wide open for him, the boy observed the girl's slick folds licking his lips, his cock moved involuntarily at the sight and accompanied him between them, sliding easily he touched her clitoris with the moist tip, insisting over and over again on that spot to make the girl tremble once more, she felt the center of her pleasure contract obscenely.

Jungkook finished his little game by pressing himself one last time, when he pulled away a long trail of cum connected the girl's sex to his sensitive cock, hissed pressing against the soggy slit, gently and slowly penetrating it, tenderly enveloped him, and his hips contracted feverishly. Y/N immediately felt the substantial difference between the young man's fingers and his cock, and to say that the boy's fingers were also much longer and thicker than the girl's! When he pushed further, the woman's walls continued to envelop him like a glove, Jungkook had to block himself by gritting his teeth, he could have come there and then without much ado, Y/N for her part felt a strange mix of sensations. She felt pleasantly full, small waves of pleasure also joined the slightly burning stretch that Jungkook left when he resumed moving in small thrusts, he went deeper and she arched reflexively, shocked by the intimacy of the union, she tightened around him moaning, the knowledge that she had him inside her in a way that another woman could only have dreamed of excited her more than anything else and now accustomed to his presence she pushed against his hips, communicating to him that he could go further.

Jungkook took a breath before pulling out to the scarlet tip, then back in again with a vigorous thrust, the girl felt something inside her flake and split, she let out a small scream immediately stifled by the boy's lips, which resumed thrusting without giving her any more time to be able to register the pain, he furrowed the soft and warm walls in the grip of unheard of pleasure, they were so close that Y/N felt the boy's pubes touch hers, a burst of pleasure stronger than the others left her gasping, she broke away from Jungkook's lips to embrace him in despair, pain and pleasure combined to create a strange, bewitching spiral, and the more his cock sinuously penetrated the elastic entrance, cradling the walls with gentle, frenzied thrusts, the more pleasure she felt increased, releasing charged jets that shocked her body. The thrusts increased in speed, Jungkook felt drops of his own sweat slip from his body to join the girl's, he scrutinized her distraught face and found her enchanting in her fucked and desperate state, she was crying and he knew it was not from pain, she was experiencing sensations so unfamiliar that her brain was not yet able to comprehend the extent of them, she was crying because that was her only outlet and Jungkook felt himself tensing painfully at the sight, he changed angles slightly and Y/N widened her eyes.

"Oooooh ... fuck, fuck, fuck!" she exclaimed shamelessly, Jungkook realized with amusement that he had found her most sensitive spot and rotated his pelvis in order to strike that area one more time.

"Yes? Is this where you want me?" he asked not recognizing his own voice, simply repeated the action and the girl nodded vigorously. "Yes! Oh, please... yes, yes..." Y/N went so far as to claw his back to clarify the concept, "Don't stop! Oh God!" He felt her stiffen, squeezing him in a tremendously pleasurable grip that made Jungkook's hips stutter, Y/N felt him all the way to her belly, her walls throbbed violently, and Jungkook took the opportunity to pinch her clit one last time, leaving her to explode in a hard, intense orgasm that left her trembling like a pudding on the bed. The boy continued with his increasingly voracious and direct thrusts, his heavy balls pulsed hitting the girl's buttocks uninterruptedly, this triggered a devastating orgasm in him that made him moan breathlessly, he came inside her flooding her walls, the girl's pussy violently contracted once again, willingly welcoming his cum and his last sloppy thrusts, finally he collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily over Y/N, she was still too out of it. "Y/N?" he asked, the girl tried to open her eyes. "Mh?" "I love you," he said with his heart in his throat, in love and kidnapped. Yes, kidnapped. She had kidnapped him and not the other way around. Y/N let go of a lazy smile, "I love you too, Jungkook," she replied, finally fulfilling Jungkook's dream, she touched the boy's face affectionately, "You kept your promise, with you I feel protected and happy," she found herself moved, continuing to caress him. Jungkook kissed her hand gently. "I will destroy anyone who tries to hurt you," he whispered with a serious look that left the girl interjected, "I will stop at no one, my love." Y/N felt a strange chill pervade her, but she mentally shook her head, telling herself there was nothing wrong, smiled at Jungkook and kissed him, dragging him with her between the soft sheets with a giggle. He thought back to the elderly neighbor, to the words of that now distant day, gosh, she was so right. Yes, that was the something new she had been waiting for, the happy ending she had been waiting for her whole miserable life. "I love you."

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts yandere #bts yandere smut #bts smut yandere #bts yandere fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook yandere #jungkook yandere x reader #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #jeongguk x reader #yandere jeongguk x reader #bts x reader #yandere bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #yandere

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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Genshin Men + Your Back

Pairing: Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Thoma, Pantalone, Dottore, Tighnari, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, mildly suggestive, possessiveness, hickies, marking, scratching, morning after, admiration, domestic fluff, teasing

A/N: I have a weakness for the back, lower back to be more specific. Back muscles are so hot, or just the back in general.

Kaeya wakes you up by kissing his way up and down your naked back every morning. He adores the way you sigh and push back against him, laughing a little because his hair tickles you, along with his tongue if he's being extra playful. Early kisses like that, especially the ones on your back are always a little more slow and gentle, he wants to enjoy the piece and quiet with you while he can.

Diluc smooths the tips of his fingers from your shoulders all the way to your tailbone, making you laugh and shiver from the soft, barely existent touch. It leaves you wanting more, igniting a familiar warmth within you. Oh he's fully aware of the effect his touch has, but how can he resist teasing you, especially when you give him such cute reactions?

Itto scratches up your back pretty bad in the heat of the moment. Neither of you realize it at first because the pleasure is too great for you both, your senses already overwhelmed by it. But when you hiss in pain as he lays his hand on your back when you're on top of him he sees the red gashes and immediately goes on an apology rant. He rushes to get some clean cloth and cold water to ease the stinging. Gently kisses them the next morning as an apology.

Thoma loves looking at your back in the morning as you stretch, getting ready to take on a new day. He won't do much more then watch, maybe throw out a compliment or two but he enjoys the little moments between the two of you like this. When you get dressed he'll walk up behind you and place his hand on the small of your back, one finger edging underneath to feel your skin prickle.

Pantalone watches you sit up and try to get out of bed, but before you do he's got his arms around your stomach, pulling himself towards you to pamper your back with kisses. There are a few licks and nips thrown in as well while he bids you good morning, asking you how you're feeling. It's pretty obvious from his kisses getting slower and hotter that he would like to do this more, sadly his work calls to him first and foremost. He places one last kiss in the middle of your back, promising to repeat last night as soon as he gets back.

Dottore always takes note of the hickies and marks he left on you. He traces each one with his finger, his mouth and then his tongue, renewing them, making sure they're still visible when he takes off your clothes again. There are a few actual bite marks as well, he really likes marking his territory, even when he's the only one who's gonna see it, and you will too, if you look in the mirror.

Tighnari made it a habit to lay his head on your back when you sleep on your stomach. He loves hugging you so there are times when he just ends up pressed against you without knowing. His ears always tickle you, waking you up with a few giggles, and him along with you. He would say sorry but hearing you laugh first thing in the morning while you turn around and look at him with so much love is too good of a thing to be sorry for.

Zhongli insists on having you in his lap first, kissing your shoulders, the back of your neck, and then easing you down on the bed and making his way lower, his warm hands tracing where his lips have been and where they will be. It makes you arch into him, moan for him, all the while knowing that's what coming next probably won't be as soft, which only makes you want this even more before you tell him to let go and do as his instincts demand.

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frogserotonin · 13 days

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overthinker- lars pinfield x reader

a/n: short one bc im still in a slump rn many sorries. also sorry lawl this fic is so disconjointed and i’m really unhappy with it but whatever 😭 warnings: nothin proper i don’t think, most ooc lars to ever ooc, unedited; tell me if i've spelt smth wrong 😁

“Would you want to go out to get some lunch together on our break?” Your fingertips bounce off of the sides of your legs as you try to remain composed. You're so high-strung right now, you almost expect him to laugh in your face. Nerves and the effects of having slept a fitful two hours last night override your usually rational brain and you feel the need to just run away without receiving an answer bloom in your chest.

“I thought you usually brought lunch? If you forgot to bring some you can have some of mine, if you want.” Lars doesn’t even look up from what he’s working on, just adjusts his glasses and uses a vague jut of his elbow to point to his locker, where you know his bag is. Your heart simultaneously drops and stutters.

“Oh, it’s okay, I just felt like going out to eat, thank you though.” You try to make your words seem more upbeat than you feel, unsure of whether or not to take his words as a rejection.

“Oh. Okay then.” It must be your imagination, but his words hold a hint of disappointment. You open your mouth again, then close it, and silence re-envelopes the room. Turning, you make your way to your desk and begin to work away, dejection slumping your shoulders forward and making time drag on. When eventually the lunch break arrives, you grab your bag and rush your way out of the lab.

A squeak of shoes on the concrete floor behind you almost has you looking back, but your brain is so addled you almost believe you’ve made it up.

Like a fool, you don't talk to him when you come back, or when you leave, the time you spend alone and in silence building up an anxiety in the back of your mind. The idea that he's all too aware of your feelings, and is made uncomfortable by them and your advances overtakes you completely. That night, you stay awake, tossing and turning, over analysing every interaction you've ever had with him, trying to make sure you've not overstepped and made a complete and utter fool of yourself.

In the morning, you consider it a miracle you leave the house at all, with how tired you are. The thought of calling in sick crosses your mind, but by the time you get up your body automatically locks itself into its usual routine, and you mindlessly get dressed and make your way to the Ghostbusters facilities. Through your drowsiness, the realisation that you’re at your desk and doing absolutely nothing sets in and you jolt.

“Good morning.” If he didn’t sound so concerned, Lars would sound thoroughly amused. “You alright? Look a bit…off.” Your face flares, and you go to stand up, only to stumble and almost fall on your face. Hands out, you stabilise yourself, and then face him.

“Yeah. Morning.” You can only hope that he backs off, because his concern seems too genuine for your feelings to not expand exponentially the more he stands before you looking like he cares. “M’feeling just peachy, you?.” Belatedly, you realise your words are clearly not convincing because he doesn’t move an inch, simply studying you. He then sighs and shakes his head, chuckling a little bit, just softly under his breath, taking a couple steps closer to you.

“When’s the last time you slept?” His voice is too gentle, too un-Lars-like, that you’re almost convinced you actually did fall asleep last night, and now you’re dreaming. You open your mouth to respond, but find yourself nodding off as you do so, the last thing you process before fully passing out is the feeling of arms around your chest and shoulders.

When you come to, you sit up quickly, and slowly become aware of what had happened. Muttering cursing to yourself under your breath, you take in your surroundings, finding yourself slung over the small couch situated in the room reserved for taking time off from work briefly. Hurriedly, you rush out of the room towards where you assume Lars is working, apology already on the tip of your tongue. You approach him quickly and loudly, a fact that can be gathered from his head immediately snapping up when you enter the room. He starts to speak, no doubt to rattle off reasons why you were irresponsible and stupid for coming to work while being aware you weren’t at your fullest capacity, but you cut him off.

“God, I’m so sorry. That was humiliating, and I’m so, so sorry that it happened, it won’t happen again.” You bow your head, refusing to look him in the eye, but quickly look up again when you hear him laugh.

“It’s fine, really, you just scared me a little bit.” His smile is small, but sincere and you remember fully the reason you were in the predicament in the first place. “Are you feeling better now?”

You probably look a bit crazy with how vigorously you nod, but you barely care anymore.

“Yes, thank you so much, really, I’m sorry that it happened.” He laughs again, and it sounds like heaven.

“You don’t need to thank me or apologise,” Lars’ eyes sparkle a bit behind his glasses when he properly smiles, and you can feel warmth rush to your face. He hesitates, like he’s calculating his words, then gently says “I-uh. I care for you a lot, it really meant nothing for me to make sure you were okay.”

#lars pinfield #lars pinfield x reader #ghostbusters frozen empire

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dirtydixonsgirl · 11 months

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Tipsy

Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

A/N: hope you guys enjoy this!! it was fun for me to write. reblogs are appreciated<3

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, creampie, p-in-v, spanking, should i say more? 18+!!!

Daryl wasn’t sure how he got here but he knew he wasn’t complaining. His hands ran over his face at the girl below him, begging him to take her. His thoughts were scattered and he was aching as well. He couldn’t help but to think back to the exact thing that brought them alone together in this very room.

Rosita was having a welcoming party for some of the survivors him and Rick had found on the way back from a run, they were very trustworthy people Rick thought, Daryl on other had have some concerns but eventually brushed it off. She was very welcoming to this new found group of people, leaving Daryl to become protective over her anytime she was in a room with them or around them.

But somehow this welcoming party ended up with a few shots of whiskey and other drinks Rosita pulled from her cabinet. Which turned into a very let lose Rosita who sat at the table making sexual jokes towards the girl and Daryl making their cheeks and face turn a blood red color. She wanted her embarrassment to slip away from her so a few more shots should do the trick, but that only turned into more embarrassment when she lost control of herself, clinging to Daryls sides, rubbing his arms and complimenting him every so often.

It was no surprise her and Daryl had something. But it wasn’t really anything to slap a label on, neither of them did that kind of stuff, the rest of the group was aware of the strange friendship they had, sneaking off together to find abandoned cabins so you could spend time together, Daryls light hearted effort at bringing her things back from a run that put himself in danger sometimes just for her, the fact that every time the group was on the run before they found Alexandria they both always seemed to choose each other to snuggle up to in the abandoned places or in the ice chattering winter. It never failed, they always chose each other, but that’s as far as it went, there no kissing, no romance, just small things that made them both very much close.

That was until tonight. Daryl was flustered to say the least, he had no idea how to help her in her state of mind especially when she couldn’t keep her hands to herself, so he snuck away leaving you with Tara and Rosita as he sat in the corner, keeping a close eye on her as she danced and laughed with the other girls, this was the first time Daryl had ever seen her so careless, free, having fun. He loved this look on her.

“Daryl!” She slurred, stumbling over to him.

She met eyes with the man, almsot tripping over her own feet. Her body was warm with alcohol, her head spinning and joy rushing through her veins. She wasn’t sure when she had let lose this much but she was enjoying it. She fell right into his lap, her legs over his while she wrapped her arms around his neck, earning a grunt from him. She looked at his flustered face giggling at his reaction, she was fully aware of the effect she had on him. She placed a small kiss to his cheek.

“Wha was that for?” His cheeks flushed even more.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Thank you for always taking care of me.”

“Who would if I didn’t?” He joked, she laughed along with him.

Daryl was impressed at himself for controlling hisself but it was getting more difficult as the alcohol coursed through both of their bodies and she began squirming and giggling in his lap. She leaned up, grabbing his bottle from the table sat in front of him, he noticed her dress rose up almost flashing him in the progress. She sat back down, adjusting herself and that’s when she felt it. Him.

Daryl wasn’t sure what it was, the alcohol or the girl that he loved dearly sitting on his lap in a very short dress, taunting him enticingly with every move. She smirked, now realizing exactly what she was doing to him.

“You want me or something, big guy?” She giggled drunkenly, her hands on his broad shoulders.

He grunted. “I’m sorry, I-“

“Take me to bed then.” She began to rub his shoulders.

This was killing him. Every moment.

“No, y/n-“

“Pleaseeee.” She pouts.

How could he say no to that?

“You’ve hada nough.” He grumbles, pulling the beer bottle from her hand. “Let’s get you home.”

The disappointment flooded through her along with the slight embarrassment. She couldn’t believe she said that and that a few seconds ago she was sitting on Daryl Dixons lap while he had a boner, all because of her.

She let out a squeal when he lifted her up in his arms, carrying her bridal style out the door. She was far too clumsy to walk and he could definitely handle his liquor. Her face buried itself in his chest, the cool wind blowing against her skin.

“You’re warm.” She mutters, eyes feeling heavy.

“You gonna pass out on me?” He jokes.

“Maybe.”

Once Daryl gets her to her house, he lays her in the soft bed, she grips his collar pulling him to her.

“Please kiss me.” She begs needly.

“Yer drunk, Y/N.” He sighs, his hands planted on both sides of her now.

“So are you, please I want you.”

All of the begging made him slightly uncomfortable in his pants, she connected their lips and Daryl didn’t kiss back at first but when he did another foreign feeling exploded through her, going straight between her legs. She whimpered against his lips, causing his breathing to hitch slightly as she rubbed her legs together to get rid of the friction.

“Daryl, please, I-“

“You want me baby?” His hands playing with the hem of her dress.

“Yes.” She breathes.

She giggles, hooking her hands in the hem of his pants, cupping him in his ever so aching areas, a groan fell from his lip. She rubbed him slowly, seeing the effect it had on him made the wetness in her panties spread. She wanted him so bad for so long she couldn’t believe it was finally here.

“Wanna-wanna feel you around me so bad.” He mutters, his hips bucking into her palm.

She squeals once his hands get under her dress, his hands sliding up her thighs, sending vibrations through her as he presses a finger down to her aching wet core, causing her to whimper. “This for me?”

“All for you.”

“You wear this to tease me tonight? Dancin’ around in this little short dress, touchin’ on me. You knew what you were doing, ya little slut.”

His words were laced with lust. Pressing his thumb down harder to her clit, she moaned her hands shaking has he rubbed slowly, her hands finding her way to his shoulders. Her legs instinctively spread, inviting him in, he thrusts into her every so often, his other hand rubbing circles on her hips. She was falling apart underneath of him and he was enjoying it.

“You want this?” He asks but nothing was heard from her besides whimpers and moans. “You gotta use your words sunshine.”

“Y-yes.” She moans. “I want it, take it from me. I wanna make you feel so good.”

He moves his hand off causing her whine at the lack of sensation. “I should spank ya for teasing me like this.”

Oh man. She thinks, realizing the trouble she has gotten herself into. She did admittedly wear this dress just for Daryl, hoping he would notice her but he noticed her in different way. In one swift motion he sits down, grabbing both of her wrists and yanking her over his lap, she gasps. Her legs squeeze together, rubbing together for friction once more, her core dripping, begging and aching for him to touch her.

“Yer so needy baby. S’hot.” He murmurs, rubbing her skin from her back down.

She whimpers as soon as his hand makes contact with her skin, he lifts his hand and lands hard. The pain connects with her aching core, sending her forward slightly. He runs his index finger up and down her core.

“You like that baby?” He whispers, she nods, causing him to land his hand back down on her. “Use your words, sunshine.”

“Y-yes. Touch me, please!”

His hand lands hard again, rubbing the stinging part.

“I should make ya beg for it. Teasin’ me like that. Just like ya do all the time, this is for all those times, Y/N.” He says, the tent in his pants aching.

He collects the slick from between her legs and sinks two fingers inside her. She’s whimpering, aching and begging across his lap. Her body takes over, the knot in her stomach begging to be released as his thick fingers falter in and out, in and out. Her orgasm was intense, her thighs shaking and jolting from under his touch. He pulls them out in one swift motion, bringing them to his mouth and sucking off the juiced.

“You taste so good, bunny.” He groans.

“I want you inside, Daryl.” She begs, squirming from underneath him. “Please.”

He flips her over onto her back, her legs spread inviting him in. The sight is enough to bring you to heaven. He runs his hands over his face. The drunkness mixed with pleasure was something she’d never felt before, Daryl was definitely the only man to make her feel this way.

Daryl unzips his pants in one go, pulling down his boxers and taking his shirt off. His thick cock springs out of his boxers against his stomach, throbbing as every vein sticks out. Her eyes widen. Oh boy was she in for a surprise. He places his hand on her face, brushing her hair back. Her innocent drunk eyes looking into his. He was melting.

“You sure?” He asks.

“Yes, I want you to fuck me Daryl Dixon.” Her impatient response earns a chuckle from him.

He enters in one more, breathing harshly through his nose.

“Ahh!” She whimpers.

The bliss over came her, she pushes back to his thrust, leaving her breathless. Her wetness made him slick enough to slide out easily and re enter.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Your pussy was made for me, sunshine.” He hissed. “S-so good. Feels so good.”

“You feel so good. I love making you feel good.”

His thumb lands on her clit, rubbing in slow teasing circles. The feeling was once again taking over her body. She began clenching around him, causing another hiss out him, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades. Daryl would never forget the sounds falling from her lips. Her second orgasm sent her spiraling into sweet sweet serenity, shortly Daryl following behind with a string of cuss words, fully emptying in her. He pulls out watching the leaking cum slide out of her and he smirks, falling down in the bed next to her.

Her eyes were half closed, her breathing restoring back to normal. His mind suddenly shook from all the filthy thoughts and turned them into sweet cute ones, loving how messy her hair was, and how she was still in her dress, it rolled up and her panties slipped to the side for his easy access. He couldn’t help but savor the moment of the beautiful girl he loves, all fucked out because of him.

“Did I fuck ya to sleep, sunshine?” He whispers, running his fingers softly through her hair.

“Mhm.” She hums.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” He whispers placing a small kiss on her head.

She grabs his wrists. “No, stay. I want to snuggle with you.”

Snuggle? He snorts.

“Anything for you, bunny.”

He dips back down in the bed, holding her tight against his warm chest. Both slipping into a deep drunken sleep.

#daryl dixon #daryldixon #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon imagine #twd #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon twd #norman reedus #fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd family #twd smut #smut #twd imagine #imagine #rick grimes

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year

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Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Three: Marry Me, Today and Every Day

a/n: here’s chapter three of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all fic. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader. next chapter we get down to business, and maybe things will start to take a turn for these two. who is to say? also--the book r is reading is an actual fanfic by @blueywrites that you most definitely should check out. haha. just a fun little easter egg.

warnings/tags: hugely unedited (10k words); mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

Sweat slicks your palms. Brings an awareness to every inch of your body as you pace around your bridal suite. Fear permeates every nerve ending. Sets them alight with a new sort of panic. This daunting, unrelenting, overwhelming knowledge that in less than an hour you’ll be a wife.

In less than an hour, you’ll be the new Mrs. Steve Harrington.

A Harrington.

Married to a man who you barely know, and yet his is the name you splutter out when your father asks what you need, noticing the staggering rise and fall of your chest, palm over your sternum where your heart races beneath.

The room clears out then. Faces pass in your peripheral vision, all varying degrees of worry lining them. Whispers, you’re certain, from your soon to be mother-in-law and Steve’s grandmother, over if you’re getting cold feet.

And it’s not that.

Not really.

You’ve resigned yourself to the understanding that this is what’s best for right now. Marrying Steve pays for your student debt, which gives you the liberty to find work in the interim while finishing up veterinarian school, and thus aids in assisting your father in taking care of what he needs to.

With money not being a worry in your mind, all your efforts can be in assisting the man who gave you life and lost his own love too soon. All your efforts can be put into that little girl with fire in her eyes and love in every inch of her bones—even when she’s trying to hide it in her cell phone, on social media, or scrolling through TikTok. It’s a sacrifice you don’t have any lingering regrets over.

He stands there in his tuxedo and wire frame glasses, hair styled back to perfection in a way that’s still so strikingly him, and yet elevated in a way you’ve not seen him before. Your head photographer, Jonathan, waves the rest of his crew out of the room when he realizes you’ll be needing a moment, the rest of the bodies filling the space finally slipping out of the room one by one until it’s just the two of you remaining.

“Wow,” he breathes out, swiping his palms against the front of the black tux, eyes roving your form. “You look—wow.”

“I, ah, thank you.” You allow your eyes to trail his form. The head to toe dress attire, the effortlessness in which he holds himself. Handsome, disturbingly so, and he never acts like he’s fully aware of the effect he has. “You clean up well, Mr. Harrington.”

He chuckles and suddenly you’re just a girl, and he’s just a boy, standing in a room together, taking in one another. It’s a slow perusal. Him, handsome as ever, in all black, save for the little floral arrangement on his chest that mirrors the one you’ll be carrying when you walk down the aisle, the glasses he’s wearing for the evening, and the gold watch around his wrist.

“Are you okay?”

He steps closer, hand extending slightly before it drops back to his side. Like he thinks better of it, like he doesn’t feel right about being near to you. It’s been that way since your bachelorette party. Since the moment he kissed you and forgot that next morning. The look in his eye when he stated plainly he didn’t remember much at all about the moment where you wondered, if only briefly, that there might be something more to this arrangement than two people entering a business deal.

From that moment on, he’d made himself very busy, and you spoke little. Figured it was likely better that way. No way to muddle the lines established in your fake marriage. Better now than when you’re deeper into the arrangement, and delusion might have arisen.

But now, in this moment, you need that nearness. Crave the touch of the only other person who understands what you’re going through. The only other person who appreciates the depth of the nervousness pooling in your belly. Circling around your heart like a vice. Clawing at your lungs to leave you breathless.

“I’m just nervous,” you admit, trying to keep the frustrated tears at bay by inhaling deeply. He moves closer, thumb brushing along your right hand to where you’ve moved your engagement ring until after the ceremony when it’s joined by your wedding ring. “We’re doing something absolutely insane.”

“Completely,” he agrees, and those fingers drag along the inside of your palm. Your fingers reflexively tighten around his, comforting warmth seeping into flesh. “But you can say the word and I’ll call it off now.”

“You’ll let me be a runaway bride?”

It’s a watery laugh that prompts Steve to grip your other palm in hand as well, giving both a gentle squeeze. Your eyes wander downward to the two tethers anchoring you to earth in this moment, then to the kind face of the man who is to be your husband in minutes.

“Just say the word and I’ll come up with an excuse why it couldn’t happen.”

“No. No. I’m marrying you today, Steve.”

He blows out an exhale. A stray hair falls down into his eyes at the motion, and your fingers hesitantly reach up to push at it. His stare pierces you, hazel eyes warm as you card your fingers through dark locks, feeling them shift and move beneath your fingertips, impossibly soft and lush.

Gently, ever so gently the hand curling in your right one loosens and circles your wrist like a bracelet. Rests briefly over your frantic pulse point, before trailing along the back of your arm. Faint brushes of skin back and forth, back and forth, loosening that breath presently hitched tight in your chest.

“How about this,” he begins, eyes darting to where gooseflesh starts to prickle along your skin. You chalk it up to the AC unit in the bridal suite, meant to block out the heat of the city in summer. “When you walk down the aisle, you only look at me. Don’t look at anyone else, okay? It’s just you and me out there, no one else matters. Eyes on me.”

“Okay.”

A long exhale leaves your mouth. Lungs deflate with the deepest breath in what feels like hours now. Steve’s fingers extricate themselves from yours in those moments of quiet, footfalls of his leather shoes clacking along the floor as he makes his way over to the door. His hand curls around metal when your voice breaks into the resounding silence, quiet and minuscule for you, and you loathe to admit there are nerves that still cling to every fiber of your being over what you’re about to do in front of hundreds of literal strangers.

“Steve.”

It’s simple. But he turns quickly, barely opens his mouth to speak when you rush forward and wind your arms around his waist. And there’s no protest. No argument as broad arms twine around your waist. As they rest low against your back, radiating warmth and comfort.

He remains like that, quiet and steadfast, until you’re both ready. Until you lace your fingers with him and he leads you to where your father stands ready to walk you down the aisle. He hands you off to the older man, rests a comforting palm on his father-in-law’s shoulder and dips his head once. Tips his head in your direction and offers you a kind smile.

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you.

“Eyes on you.”

So it begins.

There’s a ring on Steve’s finger. You notice it as you sit beside him at your sweetheart table, as strangers and friends alike offer you congratulations and greetings in support of your nuptials.

Because you’re married now. Freshly Mrs. Harrington.

In a whirlwind of emotion, you’d walked down the aisle onto that beautifully lit private rooftop. Admired only briefly the weeks of wedding planning spent with your new mother-in-law and followed Steve’s directions.

Eyes on him to block out your surroundings, eyes on him to ignore the shutter of Jonathan’s camera, of the other photographers milling about. Eyes on him as you heard the audible sniffles of Steve’s family and your own. Eyes on him as the officiant had you recite words that would bind you to Steve as you slid rings on each other's fingers. Empty words that felt like ash on your tongue. Nearly choked you as you spoke them out loud in front of hundreds of people. Declarations of a devoted love shared between kindred spirits wanting to spend the rest of their lives together.

And you’d kept your eyes on him as you were declared husband and wife, as your new name was announced to that rooftop gathering, as they’d announced Steve could now ‘kiss the bride.’

He’d been warm and welcome. Lips brushed against yours with a gentleness that had your head spinning, stomach swooping low in your belly. When he leaned back to take you in, his palm, the one where his new wedding band sat, cupped your face. To others, a sign of affection. To you, a reminder that it was only you two up there. Even as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, as the room erupted into applause, and he whispered to you.

“Keep looking at me until we get back inside, okay?”

A simple sentence. A comforting command meant to quiet your fears with the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand against yours.

Now you sit in a romantically lit room, all atmospheric blues dancing along the walls draped in white with your new first initial of your last name highlighted on the dance floor. Beside you, Steve chats enthusiastically with a man and woman, who offer you remarks on your appearance. It’s all you’ve heard all evening. Comments on your new marriage, how beautiful you look, how happy everyone is for you two.

You find it eases that tension, helps you settle in against your chair, still holding your husband’s hand as you sip daintily at a glass of champagne. That and Steve’s constantly checking in on you, making sure you’re okay, offering to grab you another drink despite the fact wait staff quite literally answers your every beck and call. There’s a gratitude toward him that rests behind your ribs, an appreciation regardless of the confusing few days you’ve had as of late with him.

Your husband who is not. A man you share a name with and only that. Who you signed paperwork with and will be heading off on a honeymoon with come morning. A man whom you’ll be sleeping in a separate bed from tonight, when most would assume you will be consummating your marriage. There’s none of that, only a pre-planned understanding.

Agreements, plans, business deals.

Before your mind can venture any further, the Emcee announces your first dance as husband and wife. You’ve almost forgotten about this part in all your planning. Never really thought beyond the kiss at the altar. Even so, Steve’s cupping your hand and leading you into the center of the dance floor where a giant ‘H’ is emblazoned below, drawing you near to him in an embrace as the song begins and you’re swaying back and forth in the arms of your husband.

“I’m scared to death that she might be it, that the love is real, that the shoe might fit.”

“People are staring,” you point out, curling your hands around the back of his neck, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Today is our day,” he laughs against the top of your head. Warm breath puffs along your skin, shiver tingling your spine. “I think you've forgotten. Everyone is here to celebrate us.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond. Beyond.”

“You’re my husband.”

He chuckles again, chest rumbling near your ear as you sway, his broad hands against your hips, tugging you closer.

“Guess that makes you my wife, huh?”

“Space and time in the afterlife. Will she have my kids? Will she be my wife?”

Your nose wrinkles at the newness of your title. Wife. Wife. You’re someone’s wife now. And he’s your husband. Husband. You mouth the word once more silently to yourself, finding it unusual, tongue stumbling over it, and snort into his suit.

That hand around your right hip tightens. “Something funny?” he asks, but there’s a levity in his tone that has your mouth jolting upward at the corners.

“Just…this day.”

“I know,” he agrees, voice growing softer as he adds, “people are also staring because you are beautiful, you know?

“Steve.”

“It’s true.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, pressing closer to him.

“I know this day has been…stressful for you, but you’re not alone. There’s two of us now.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond.”

Your head tips back at his words, feeble mind stumbling momentarily over his compliment, heart thumping as you say, “Like a team.”

He grins. “Exactly like that. We’re the Harringtons now.”

“The Harringtons.”

The name falls easily from your lips, but your quiet conversation is disrupted by the clanging of glasses about the room. Silverware all around the room taps against the delicate surfaces, a continuous tinkering around you both that has Steve’s mouth parting slightly. The pink of his tongue swipes briefly across his bottom lip before he closes it once more, lines of his throat bobbing on a swallow.

“They want us to kiss,” you tell him, sliding one palm down from where it rests around his neck until it curves around the edge of his jaw. You tip his head your way slightly, eyes scouring face. “And will probably be wanting us to do so all night. So…guess we might as well put on our best show, huh?”

It continues for the duration of the evening. Kiss after kiss bestowed by your husband. Constant expected affection. His fingers laced between your own, your hand on his thigh, his head on your shoulder, lips at your temple, lips on yours. Over and over again for hours. This time in a way that the slight buzz you have from your champagne could never erase—from either of your minds.

The evening itself becomes fun. Music changes and you’re brought onto the dance floor with your new husband and the friends from your hometown, as well as the ones he’s made along the way. Strangers who become dance partners. Bodies twirling and swirling along the floor, hands tangling with hands, laughter pulling from your lips. Like this, with Robin and Eddie’s forms near to your own, you feel lighter. Like this, when the song changes and you sing the words out loud in a silly rush with Steve in the center as those around you egg you on, you allow yourself to let go. To be free. To enjoy the evening that is about you and Steve.

Before long your feet are aching. Heels are discarded beneath you at your table, hand in Steve’s once more, as your closest friends give speeches. For Steve, it’s a rushed flurry of words from Robin. She speaks mostly to the closeness they’ve developed in the short time they’ve been friends, but a bond that has easily etched deep between the two of them. Speaks of your time as her roommate, about how she’d only been kidding when she said maybe you should get out there and start dating and quickly fall in love with her friend. Laughs easily when she says maybe she should have introduced them sooner.

It almost feels real, the words she speaks—the words Eddie speaks as he grabs the microphone and draws it close to his lips. He ties his hair back quickly, sweat from dancing clinging to the bangs dancing along his brow, and he clears his throat. Unrolls a piece of paper that’s on the tiniest scroll you’ve ever seen, but rolls all the way down to the floor when he unfurls it. The room bursts into enthusiastic laughter, your chest aching in adoration at the first words he speaks.

“You see…before I knew Steve, I knew his new wife. We grew up together in some shit hole town—I can curse, right? Sorry for all the kids here. Anyway, we grew up together…as I was saying. So when she asked me if I’d still love her if she did something stupid, I was thinking she meant a prank. Steve, just a heads up, your wife is a menace. A total damn menace. But I'm sure you knew that already.” He pauses for a moment as Steve chuckles, nodding his head in agreement, then continues, “And then she goes and falls in love with this guy. Big boy Harrington.”

Another round of laughter echoes in the room, and Steve grips your hand tighter in his where it rests against his lap.

“Pretty stupid, huh?” He chuckles to himself, folding the microphone against his waist for a moment as he bows, thanking the crowd for their involvement. “But it’s not that stupid when I really think about it. Because these two are some of the best people I know. Really and truly, and it makes sense that we’re all here right now. Right here in this room. Two people like this are meant to find each other. Drawn together by some…cosmic force. I mean, look at them! Have you ever seen two people so in love?”

The room leans in. Swells with emotion as Eddie sniffles audibly. This part, you know, is part of his speech. He’d read it to the two of you the night before, just as Robin had. Those around you don’t know, but you do. And still, your guests are nodding in agreement. Some are dabbing napkins into the corners of their eyes, swallowing down knots of emotion welling in their throats. Your own father glances your way with a fondness that cleaves you down the center, ears ringing as Eddie continues the rest of his speech, filling the cavity with guilt.

Clapping hands draw you from your silent reverie, followed only by the sound of metal meeting glass once more. The sound of your heart pounding in your ears as Steve slides a hand along the side of your face and leans down for the umpteenth time that evening, stilling your mind with the glide of his mouth against your own.

Soon enough, the bouquet has been tossed, the garter awkwardly collected from your thigh, and cake has been shared between the two of you, sugary remnants that linger in Steve’s hair (a mental note made to never mess with his hair ever again upon fear of death in your marriage) still visible as guest stand on either side of an aisle outside where a car is waiting for the two of you, lit sparklers dancing to life in their hands.

Your eyes meet his. “Ready to go?”

He grips your hand. “We’re in the home stretch now.”

Seventeen hours.

Seventeen hours is what it takes for you to arrive in the Maldives. Plus the time spent traversing you two across the main private island to your smaller bungalow only accessible by boat. You’ve barely had time to take in the beautiful sights, tiredness clinging to every limb, by the time the two of you are deposited on a dock leading to the place you’ll be staying for the next five days.

Steve clambers down onto the wood beside you, his own form looking a little worse for wear. He’s not spoken in quite some time. Neither of you have, really. Not since you returned to your penthouse after the wedding and slipped out of your wedding clothes. Nor when you parted down opposite ends of the hall. Even at the airport your conversation had been simple, pleasant, easy chatter about the weather and what you might do when you get to the island.

“Look how beautiful!” You enthuse, taking in the beautiful thatched roof of your private honeymoon suite on the water.

Pretty purple light douses the building, casts that same hue across the surface of the lagoon that laps against the edges of the boardwalk. From where you're standing, you can see another pathway leading to an outdoor gazebo and dining area draped in flowing cream curtains that billow in the gentle caress of the breeze around you.

You turn to look at your husband. “Wanna go explore?”

He yawns, head dipping as your guide lingers behind on the boat, wishing you two a lovely first evening on your honeymoon. Inside you’re met with a beautiful living room with sliding glass doors that lead to a deck, fully stocked with a jacuzzi, pool, and a sunken outdoor bath. Tired bones scream at the prospect of using them, though you proceed further into the suite. There’s a beautiful kitchen with the option of a private chef, a gym, an indoor spa you know you’ll be utilizing, the master bathroom with a tub that looks like it could fit ten people, and finally…the master bedroom.

The suddenness of your realization dawns, because your eyes immediately hone in on the one bed. A king bed, but only one all the same. You’re tired, you’re so tired that all you want is to peel back the covers and clamber in, but this throws a wrench into those plans. That clarity must also hit Steve, because he’s dropping his things to the ground and walking around the side of the bed to grip a pillow in hand, and begins making his way toward the entrance of the bedroom when you splutter audibly.

“Where are you going?”

He cards his fingers through his hair, exasperation lining those withdrawn features. “There’s a couch I saw in the living room.”

You shake your head, reaching out to cup his bicep. It instantly tenses under your fingertips. You don’t dwell on it, and instead argue, “You’re going to kill your back. We’re here for five days. We’re adults…we can share a bed.”

It’ll be like a sleepover. An adult sleepover where no sex is involved. Definitely not on your honeymoon—and definitely not with the man you married nearly twenty-four hours ago who you know very little about. You don’t know his birthday, his likes, dislikes…you don’t even know his favorite color, his favorite show, or if he’s a dog or cat person. Sleeping in the same bed as him will be a cake walk. Nothing to even worry about. A mere blip on the radar.

“I just…I don’t want…” He exhales deeply, and you finally notice the dark circles under his eyes. “You’ve already done enough by uprooting your life and marrying me—”

“It’s a bed, Steve.”

That seems to quiet the tension in his shoulders. They drop into a slouch, his form trailing back over to the side of the bed facing the wall when you clear your throat, awkward laugh breaking into the otherwise silent room.

“I like to sleep facing the wall,” you say gently, noticing the slight downturn of his lips. “But I’m assuming you do as well, so for the sake of both of our sanities I can sleep facing the door.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No. No, I’ll take the door side. I can handle a few nights.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Happy wife, happy life, right?”

Your lip twitches upward. “You don’t snore, do you?” You ask teasingly.

“I…don't think so. But I’m sure you’ll tell me if I do,” he says, moving himself around the bed once more. He settles down against the mattress, testing the surface beneath his palm. “Bed is soft.”

“I would hope it would be for a private honeymoon villa. Your mother really went all out, huh?”

Your head tilts upward, taking in the vaulted ceilings. Where you’re standing you can even hear the sound of water lapping on the deck outside your windows.

“Pretty sure she’s secretly hoping I extend the Harrington line this week.”

Your nose wrinkles at that. “We’re absolutely making a pillow wall after that comment.”

“I’m joking,” he grumbles, body falling backward onto the bed.

One thing you’ve learned about Steve Harrington? He’s dramatic—impossibly so. Sort of like Robin, though he’s more frustrated outbursts versus her nervous or frantic ones.

“Pillow. Wall.”

“Fine.”

You walk over to the bed where your husband lays with his eyes closed and forearm strewn over his face. Bare knees brushing his, you reach out and tug on his free hand splayed near his hip, trying to drag him upward to no avail.

“Stop being a big baby.”

“We just flew for seventeen hours,” he argues, sitting upright.

“Steve. Lift your hulking ass off the bed. The sooner you get up, the sooner we go to bed.”

Your new husband grumbles to himself as he stands to his feet, helping you pull down the comforter on the top of the bed. Satisfied, you pluck a few of the extra pillows and make a line down the center of the mattress, pointing out your side and his, before slipping into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

You follow your normal routine. Wash your face, brush your teeth, slip on a moisturizer. You change out of your clothes next, opting for a matching set of shorts and a tank top, before tossing your street clothes into a laundry bin and sliding into your “Bride” slippers given as a gift by one of your friends at your bachelorette.

There’s a brief moment your eyes trail to the shower, where there’s glass paneling and a bench in the corner and then further to your right toward the gigantic bath tub you could practically swim in…and huff. Such a strange thing to be in this beautiful honeymoon hideaway with a man down the hall who regards you as a friend.

The same friend you now share a last name with.

Pushing the thoughts aside, you meander back down the hall to your bedroom for the next five days and come to find Steve laying on his stomach with his broad back on display, sheets hung low around his waist. You can map the various freckles and marks along his skin from where he rests, head resting on his forearm.

Smiling to yourself, you settle down into the bed and roll over to shut the lamp nearest your side of the bed. The room descends into darkness, and you whisper, “Goodnight,” before following him into sleep.

Pristine blue water surrounds you as far as the eye can see. The world is quiet from your home away from home for the week, save for the rustle of your book pages turning as you progress through the story and the sound of Steve’s fingers clacking across a keyboard. You exhale with a long huff, pushing your sunglasses higher up on the bridge of your nose.

Steve’s been working for hours now.

Since you both woke up, really.

Initially you had been a little miffed as you cooked up something for the two of you in your large kitchen, opting out of calling for a private chef to do so, and he pulled out his phone and laptop. You figured that was fine, up until the headphones went in while you sat down across from him and ended up sharing your breakfast in complete and utter silence.

On its own, that wasn’t so much an issue. What bothered you was your request to go outside and enjoy the sun together, and he’d agreed. In your mind, his intentions were genuinely to spend time with you. He’d slipped into a bathing suit and everything, only to join you on the sun deck with his leather work bag, laptop pulled out before you could even get in a word of protest.

“You know, most people enjoy their honeymoon,” you tease, turning the page in your book.

You find yourself needing to take a break anyway. The two couples in your book are on vacation themselves, and the main character kissed the dark haired hero on the makeshift dance floor after one of the hottest dancing scenes you’ve ever read occurred. And seeing as your own honeymoon is not heating up, you’re frustrated.

Increasingly so when he says, “This isn’t a typical honeymoon.”

“Weren’t you trying to wrap up the business before we came here?”

You recall a conversation you had wherein he said as much about wanting to make sure he’d be able to partake in the Maldives, but it seems those words were rang untrue.

“Yes, but…things happen.”

Your book thumps onto the lounger beside you. “You do realize everyone thinks we’re on a real honeymoon, right?”

He dips his head, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he glances over the top of his laptop to glance your way.

“Your coworkers are going to be confused why you’re logged in for work while you’re here. I mean—look how romantic this place is!”

“I’m not following…”

Huffing, you curl your legs beneath you, shifting your body toward him. “You’re supposed to be…you know, giving me attention every hour of the day while we’re here. Ravishing me. Going at it like—non-stop. It’s supposed to be overly romantic. Flowers on the bed, sexy showers, no sleep, naked trysts in the kitchen—”

“Fine.” He shuts the laptop. Tucks it away in his leather bag. “I’m logging off. Happy?”

You grin enthusiastically. “Very, husband.”

Steve disappears inside for a moment, then appears once more with his phone in hand. You’re about to argue with him when he shows you he’s playing a game of solitaire—which you snort at, shoving him when his eyes roll—and slip your sunglasses back on over your eyes. Opening your book, Steve pushes at the back cover, leaning in close to try and read the short description on the back of what lingers inside the dog-eared pages.

“What are you reading, wife?” You catch the slight uptick of his lip; the smirk he tries to hide.

Conversation. Small talk. You can work with that. “To Know You’re Mine.”

He tucks his phone near his thigh. “What’s it about?”

“Swingers.”

“That’s very vague,” he points out. “Can you give me a little more than just ‘swingers?’”

Your brow arches. “Do you really care?”

“No, I’m asking because I’m bored.”

Shifting your chairs closer to one another, you flip the book over so he can see the front cover and start pointing out the little cartoon characters on the nondescript covers on shelves everywhere nowadays.

“So there’s these two who are dating, right? Have been for a long time. But it’s her first boyfriend and they live together. Then one day, he takes her to his friend’s show. And that’s where you then meet these two characters. Just so happens, they start swinging and…well, it gets really crazy. Do you want me to tell you the rest? I’m about…halfway.”

He nods his head and you explain the entirety of the plot so far. And maybe your honeymoon isn’t perfect, maybe jet lag kicks in and Steve starts to nod off right around the time you start explaining the chapter you’re up to, and maybe you have to nudge him to come inside so he doesn’t get sunburned.

Maybe you watch him as he lays down on the living room couch and you drape a blanket over his slumbering form. Maybe you settle down on another couch and roll over onto your side to look at him, your book long discarded on the coffee table. Maybe you allow yourself to roam his features, so much younger than his twenty-seven years when he’s resting like this—when he doesn’t have a whole company on his shoulders.

Maybe you close your eyes too and join him.

Suffering from jet lag, your first day is spent mostly lounging around. Sleeping off the long trip you’ve taken to get to where you are. Steve sits on his couch near you, and you sit bundled in blankets on the couch opposite. You watch reality TV, a show where couples pair up in a villa and try to make romantic connections, and scroll through social media. Allow yourself to click through different stories from your friends accounts, glance at the few articles printed, and scour the comments beneath regarding your recent wedding.

TikTok is blowing up with videos of you and Steve photographed with Eddie. You are in your wedding gown and Steve is beside you, hand in yours. He looks happy. Genuinely happy in a way that has you smiling over to where he sits, hazel eyes drifting your way curiously. You don’t even know how they got access to them in the first place, and likely don’t even want to know.

Overall, it seems like most are impressed and craving more photos. Wanting the inside scoop on the famous Corroded Coffin member’s best friends. No one seems to question the validity of the marriage, though there are questions as to why so quickly, but are snuffed out by those who make note that it isn’t like the two of you haven’t been in the same social circles for some time now. That it was a matter of time before the two of you realized love was always there, right in front of the both of you, and all you needed to do was reach out and grasp it.

By the next morning, you’re both awake and ready to take on the day, ordering a boat to the main island for your spa day. The prospect of a massage after the weeks spent planning your wedding sounds lovely, and you tell Steve as much, leaning into his frame as your guide asks how the first day of your honeymoon was.

“Amazing,” you gush, though you spent another night with a mountain of pillows between you and the man beside you. The only reason you’re close now is because they’re watching your interactions, gauging the newlyweds. “It’s so beautiful here.”

And that’s that, until you arrive at the spa booked for a private afternoon with your new husband, compliments of your new mother-in-law and the travel agent she’d worked alongside to make sure your accommodations were all you could ever dream of.

The only detail left out on your itinerary was the fact it was a nude spa. Fully. Part of some “bonding exercise” as the attendant explained before the two of you entered the hot spring, freshly massaged and draped in the coziest of robes to ever grace your skin.

You’re left alone with Steve in a darkened room warmed by the steam rising from the water’s surface, eyes dragging along his presently clothed form.

“I’ve seen your chest? You sleep shirtless, which…I mean, is fine. And uh…you’ve seen me in a bikini. It’s kind of like that, no?”

“Except now we’ll be naked.”

“Well, there’s that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“I mean, it’s not that serious. No cause for alarm bells,” you say, trying to ease the tension rolling off of Steve’s shoulders in waves. “I mean, you could always turn around and I can get in first. Just…eyes above the water level only.”

Steve rubs a hand along the back of his neck, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Sure. Okay, you go first.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, and you rush over the small deck to turn him around so he’s facing the wall. With his back turned, you untie the robe and drape it across a rack, then move over to the water’s edge to dip your toes into the water with a sigh. Warm water laps at your skin, coaxes you further into the hot spring until you’re settled down on a bench, water up to your shoulders, hopefully obscuring the rest of you from view.

“Okay, I’m in,” you announce. “You can get in. I’ll close my eyes.”

You pinch them shut in emphasis, clapping your hands over your face just in case. The sound of his bare feed padding across the deck reaches your ears, followed by the splash of what you assume to be a foot stepping into the water. It’s followed by a low exhale.

You pop your eyes open momentarily and Steve’s voice has you clapping them shut frantically. A shout of, “I’m not in all the way!”

“What are you waiting for?! Jesus to come back?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, to adjust to the warm water. It’s cold out here.”

You scoff. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t see your dick.”

“Can you not?”

“What? I didn’t!”

“I’m glad you didn’t!”

You scoff. “I mean, ow. That’s kind of rude. I’m your wife.”

“Did you bump your head and forget the part where we’re on a fake honeymoon, following our fake wedding?” He whisper-yells, still not moving down the stairs leading into the sauna.

“I didn’t say I want to see it! Don’t get too big of a head now,” you amend, eyes narrowing. “Steve, just get in, please.”

Your sigh of exasperation has him moving swiftly. Water ripples around your shoulders, gentle caresses against skin as he settles down beside you and announces you can open your eyes.

“There’s this dinner spot I think we should try out tonight. It’s on the main island, but it’s supposed to be really good,” he says after a while, drawing your attention to him. “I figure it could be nice to spend an afternoon out. Together.”

“Is my husband asking me on a date?” You tease, watching as his head submerges itself under the water, leaving you in solitude. “I’m kidding. Kidding, Steve. This seems on brand; my husband trying to escape me on our honeymoon.”

He emerges with a laugh, hair slick against his head, broad chest heaving up and down as he catches his breath. It’s then your eyes wander southward. Hitch on the hair lining his chest, the way it trails below the surface of the water, hinting at a downward path your heart clenches at the mere prospect of following.

Steve’s…well, your husband is handsome. You’ve known since you met him that first time nearly a year ago. But now, sitting there, with the ring you got him your ring on his finger as he cards his fingers through his hair. It…shouldn’t do anything, but it does. Bubbles to life feelings you would rather push away, sweep under a rug, ignore.

Deflect, deflect, deflect.

It’s easier this way.

Because he’s not your real husband in the ways that matter.

Capturing your current distraction as you continue to mindlessly stare, Steve taps your shoulder, drawing your gaze back to his face, your mouth twisting into a frown.

“Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t looking I—”

Scrambling to escape the moment, you start to rise a bit from the water, only for Steve’s gaze to stray. “Eyes up here, Harrington,” you tease, shoving at him and forcing him deeper into the water, hazel eyes bright and wide, holding you in place there in that sauna.

He laughs, spluttering as his head dips beneath the surface.

A deep, hearty, lyrical sound.

That laughter continues until dinner, where Steve brings you to a lovely outdoor restaurant on the beach. All around tables lit by candlelight outline the sandy floor. Little twinkling lights illuminate the space, hidden in the trees, curling around their slender trunks. It’s gorgeous, and you say so as your waitress congratulates you on your marriage while she seats the two of you, offering a bottle of champagne gifted by your mother-in-law.

Until it stops because of a simple sentence that makes Steve stiffen on the spot: “Are those the new Harringtons?”

It’s supposed to be easy. A business deal with a contract like the ones he’d grown up reading. An exercise his father had him do often: would hand him a detailed contract, pages thick, and see if Steve could find the faults within. It’s why he knows the one he drafted up for his own marriage was—or rather, should have been—perfect. But marriage contracts don’t account for persistent wives. For the types of women who seep into the crevices of your life and make themselves known.

And that, he finds quickly, is you. You’re vibrant and joyful and downright fun to be around, and try as he might to deny it, finds himself enjoying your company. But he’d told himself, from the moment on that rooftop when he’d asked you to marry him, that these things could only grow complicated if he allowed them to. If he allowed himself to open up, to feel, to wonder.

Such as this moment, presently staring him in the face. You are in that pretty, off the shoulder cream dress he’d seen you unpack back in the bedroom that clings to your every curve, as Carol and her husband, Tommy H, settle down at the table beside the two of you. And, naturally, you slip into easy conversation with them. Chipper chatter as you catch up on the happenings of your honeymoon so far.

“Isn’t it just so beautiful here? It’s actually our first time here too, but it has been so lovely. Have you two been able to get out and see anything? I’m sure you’re still in that first few days of your trip bliss,” Carol asks, waggling her brows teasingly.

“I…uh, what?” You pause for a moment, reaching across the table to grab Steve’s hand in yours. As if you’ve just remembered you’re married and are meant to play the part of a newlywed. “Oh, yeah…so we have a private bungalow on the water. So you can imagine…”

“That sounds so romantic. Ugh, honey—” She reaches over to clasp her hand around her own husband’s forearm fondly, as if she’s reliving memories of their own newly wedded bliss. “If you haven’t seen any beaches yet, you definitely need to. The water was so perfect. We also tried out this really lovely breakfast place. Great for a morning meal and it’s connected to the sweetest trail. Such pretty scenery here, isn’t there, Tommy?”

Tommy nods, turning to Steve when the girls slip into easy conversation, grinning widely. “She seems great, buddy. So happy for you.”

“She really is,” Steve admits, catching the profile of your pretty face. The upturn of your lips that has his heart careening into the pit of his stomach.

He hates when it does that, and it seems to do so all the time now.

He knows it’s not coincidental.

And that’s the problem, now isn’t it?

The charm you possess. The way Carol and Tommy talk to you like they’ve known you for years as opposed to the few minutes it takes to learn their background history. To find out that they know Steve from the private school they went to in the city. You quickly learn Steve and Tommy played baseball together, before Steve went to business school and Jason pursued the major leagues. They’ve not seen each other in years, so there are no hard feelings about not being invited to the wedding, but they’re happy for the two of you.

Steve told himself marrying you would be easy because he knew little of you. You’re his best friend Eddie’s best friend. You were previously Robin’s roommate. But up until your vows at the altar you were a name his friends would bring up in conversation, and now you’re central to a majority of his conversations, share a last name with him, have now shared a bed with him.

Luckily, there are only a few more days left of your honeymoon. A few until he’s back in the city, back to work, and back to normalcy. You’ll be heading back to school, he’ll have a semblance of reality he feels he’s been lacking, so wrapped up in wedding planning and get togethers, and he’ll have no questions as to why he’s finding it so hard to keep your marriage strictly as what it was always intended to be: a business deal.

For now he’ll have to deal with you grabbing his hand flirtatiously when an Emcee announces a competition for that evening that manages to put a new glint in yours and Carol’s eyes. An expectant glee for him to participate with you, keen on competition, despite his grunts of protest.

For now he’ll have to deal with the way your eyes meet him as a coconut is pressed between the two of you and the game of the evening is announced. Coconut smoochie, wherein two couples compete to bring the coconut between their bodies up to their mouths for a kiss, without using their hands.

For now, he’ll have to deal with the smirk that lines your lips as he starts shifting this way and that, coconut rolling between the two of you, sliding against his abdomen, his chest, your chest, your breasts.

For now, he’ll have to ignore the way you grin to yourself when Carol and Tommy drop their coconut behind the two of you, how satisfied you are when Steve manages to get the coconut under his chin and pinches it there.

“Harrington, you’re not so bad at this,” you tease, chest against his, hips against his.

One wrong move and—

“Can’t believe you got me to do this.”

“You’re on your honeymoon. Live a little. Life doesn’t have to be numbers and contracts all the time.”

And you’re right. He knows this. But he hates the way his stomach twists violently, how his heart clenches as your lips press against the coconut and the other side is pressed to his mouth. Hates how when you’re announced the winners and the coconut drops to the floor between you, his palms sweat as your arms come to curl around his waist.

Because you’re his wife, yes.

Technically.

On paper, at least.

But that’s all it can be.

This affair, this agreement—it has an expiration date.

Three years.

Three years and then you’ll be gone.

Lost to him, like so many others.

For the sake of your agreement, it has to remain that way.

Light seeps in through your bedroom window. A heaviness around your waist, like a weighted blanket, keeps you still. Comforted. Warm. A sigh spills from your lips, pleasant and happy. Contented. Burrowing deeper into that warm, you hum, relishing in the feeling of it. Of being cocooned, safe, held close.

Held close.

Held—

Head shifting, you come to notice Steve flush against your back. His hips against your backside, thighs tangling with yours, and that weight around you? Yeah, it’s connected to a wrist, a bicep—because it’s an arm. Steve’s broad arm cages you in against his bare chest. His warm, freshly tanned, bare chest. Those fingers around your hip curl tighter. The arm around you tugs you closer, though you’re not sure how much closer two people can be without climbing into the other person, and you realize the very…interesting situation you two have found yourselves in.

His body against yours. Your body flush against him. His breath in your hair, along your ear, his mouth near the hinge of your jaw. If he moves even the slightest bit, they’ll make contact with your skin. And you’ve kissed Steve enough times now to know said kisses are dangerous. They’ll only lead to dreaming, to questioning, to wondering.

You don’t have time for any of those things.

Your honeymoon is coming to a close soon enough. Only a few days left now, and then you’ll be back to your own lives. To normalcy. Or as normal as two people freshly married can be.

“Steve?” Your voice is quiet in an attempt to not startle the man holding you.

His mouth shifts near your ear. A low yawn spills against your jaw, heat fanning across your skin. “Yeah?”

“You’re squeezing me,” you point out, wiggling your body for emphasis. “Our pillow wall fell down in our sleep.”

But it’s in the wiggling against his solid form that you realize there are actually three people in the room. Your husband, yourself, and the warm, thick, long, and presently hard erection pressed against your bottom.

It’s also when you hear the slow exhale of your husband’s breath along the hollow of your ear. A telltale sound, even in the short time you’ve been married, that signals he’s hardly awake. Still in that wispy world between waking and sleep. Deciding to not rouse him further, you settle back down into his embrace.

Or rather, try to. When you do so, your body freezes on the spot. Cold water seemingly drops from a bucket onto your shared bed. Because Steve whimpers against your shoulder.

Whimpers.

A breathy, needy sound that has your stomach fluttering. And further still, as your heart rate picks up, realization dawns. Your knee involuntarily searches for its twin beneath the covers, thighs clenching around Steve’s thigh. This time, he moans. A deep rumble in his chest that vibrates along your spine, has your fingers clutching at his arm slung low around your hips.

“Steve,” you try again, pleading with whoever listens from above as Steve’s hips roll forward, cock pressing against your backside again, making your pussy flutter around nothing. Betrays you and your damn emotions. Your pillow swallows your moan, desire racketting in your veins. “Fu—Steve.”

Awareness grows. Waking follows. Steve starts to shift behind you, arm loosening from around your waist, chest slipping from your back. His form moves toward the headboard and you try to not miss the loss of his warmth so deeply, try to not linger on the instantaneous loneliness that creeps when the king sized bed grows even larger before you, the gaping maw between you created by lies and acts, touted before your closest family and friends never so insurmountable.

As you rise from your own pillow and look at him, he tugs the blankets higher up on his hips, hands moving to the bedside table to grab his glasses and phone. Your mouth opens to speak, to reassure him it’s fine, that it happens, that it’s just a silly pillow wall, but he mutters shower and slips out of the room and down the hall.

Huffing, you roll onto your back, listening to the sound of your racing heartbeat coming back to a normal rhythm. It’s joined a moment later by the water running, the gentle rainfall of the shower head in the master bathroom sparking to life, likely steaming that room.

You don’t want to think about it.

Try hard to not think about the figure of your husband slipping into the stream. Try not to imagine the sight of his bare chest on display, rivulets of water dripping down his sculpted abdominals, fingers running through the hair growing longer since you’ve met him on his head, along the stubble that’s lining his jaw and upper lip now. Try to not imagine him still pressed against you, rolling his hips against yours, drawing a quiet moan from you. Definitely don’t imagine what he’s likely doing in the shower to alleviate his…situation. Your fingers edge along the hem of your sleep shorts as you try to block out the image of his corded arms straining in the shower as those long fingers curl tight around his c—

No!

Absolutely not! Not going there.

NOPE.

The day before your flight home arrives sooner than you expect it to. Five days of…well, maybe not marital bliss, but something, passing before your eyes. After the night you woke to Steve’s arms around your waist, the pillow wall became a pillow mountain.

And, though you loathe to admit it, you hate the mornings that follow. They remind you of what you can expect once you’re back in the city with him. Nights where you slip to one end of the hall and him the other, where you pass each other on the way to grab coffee in the morning, where you wave goodbye before one of you leaves and silence follows.

Steve wakes early the morning of your last day, mutters that he’s going to spend some time in the private gym, leaving you to make breakfast for when he gets out. With both a plate of eggs and coffee brewing for your husband, you open your laptop with the intention of making sure all your classes have been set up.

What greets you there isn’t…well, it’s not unexpected. It was part of your deal, but you hadn’t anticipated him paying the bill already.

Thousands of dollars were paid, bringing your total due for the semester down to nothing.

Zero.

Zilch.

Eyes burning, you close the lid of your laptop, sniffling as Steve enters the room and thanks you, taking a bite of his breakfast.

“You didn’t have to cook again,” he says. “We haven’t called the private chef at all this week.”

You shrug, wiping at your under eyes quickly. “I don’t mind. I like cooking. I’ll have to go shopping when we get home.”

Home.

That’s right.

The walls of your penthouse that feel so far from it are, in fact, your home.

“Don’t drive yourself crazy cooking all the time. I order out or go out most nights anyway.”

“Right,” you say, dipping your head and pouring him a cup of coffee. “I’ll be busy with school soon anyway.”

“Exactly.” He sips his drink. “That should be your main focus.”

“Right.”

Awkward.

Stilted.

Uncomfortable.

Those feelings linger as you step out onto the hammock outside, dangling over the water below. Your book is back on your lap, Steve’s on your right, freshly brought up to speed on where you’re at. The main character broke up with her boyfriend and told the main male lead that they need to stop seeing each other.

Needing to take a break from it, tears gathering in your eyes, you tip your gaze up to the sky. The sun beats heavily on your head, warms your skin, and makes you sleepy.

Steve turns his head your way, fingers trailing along your forearm, breaking you out of your silent reverie. “Hey. Are you okay? You’ve been a little quiet this morning.”

“Yeah.” You nod, rolling over onto your side. Reaching up to place your book on a safer spot of the deck, you shift closer to him, lips turning downward. “I saw you paid my semester—”

“I told you I would. It was part of the deal.”

The deal.

The arrangement.

“I know, I just…seeing it was kind of overwhelming. In a good way. In an…I’m really grateful kind of way.” A slow exhale spills from your lips, chest falling with the effort of it. “I know we didn’t get married in the most, uh, conventional way, but—there are things that this will allow me to do that I wouldn’t be able to otherwise. It’s a big weight lifted off my shoulder. So. I guess thank you for marrying me.”

The corner of his lip twitches upward as your husband rolls over onto his side, sunglasses blocking half his face from view. “This is also a weight off my shoulders, too. I think you forget that. I needed to get married for the company—”

“A company you don’t want,” you tease, wrinkling your nose.

“A company I don’t want,” he agrees, chuckling lightly. “But I’d rather it stay out of my cousin’s hands. So thank you for marrying me.”

“Ready to go home, Mr. Harrington?”

He snorts. “Sure, Mrs. Harrington.”

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #modern!steve harrington #fake husband!steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x f!reader #modern day!au

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j0kers-light · 3 months

Note

Innocent!reader , wearing a summer dress (I know it’s December 😭) , and not being aware of its effect on joker . Please bring back innocent!reader , need more of her 😭🩷🩷

His Lighthouse: Summatime Fine (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Summatime Fine - Oneshot

Image Credit

It’s the long awaited return of innocent!reader! Joker's sweet girl is finally back in this long awaited part two!

Its not December anymore anon and I am terribly sorry for filling this ask so late. I come bearing a lil something something as a thank you for your patience! I encourage you to listen to the song that inspired me to write this oneshot! Enjoy! 💖✨

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse @jaysmentalspace

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist! Be alerted with any oneshots and the main story updates! 🖤✨

You are a f__king tease and the worst part? You were completely unaware of the effect you had on Joker.

He thought he purged that blissfully ignorant demeanor of yours, but alas you were still a virgin at heart. A part of him loved it— another wanted to fully corrupt you until nothing innocent remained. Yet you were still his sweet little doll he so desperately wanted to defile.

Your childlike view of the world was so painstakingly cute, it made him want to vomit. Your natural kindness practically begged him to destroy it. Would it be wrong if he spoiled the secrets of your youth? Santa wasn’t real, neither was the Easter bunny and gasp! Okay, he’d let you keep the tooth fairy. That one was too cute to ruin.

He loved exchanging your baby teeth for jewelry and other pretty things. Granted that it fit under your pillow.

Joker found it his mission to protect your naivety from the gruesome world. The extremely sheltered childhood you endured molded you into the person you were today. Joker could live out the rest of his days in your pink little bubble, but he knew that was impossible with his lifestyle.

You were still shy and bashful, uncertain of your own body, but the worst of them all—you were unaware of the control you held over Joker.

If you batted your lashes, he was a goner—forever doomed to follow behind you like a lovesick puppy, wagging his tail. He could come to terms better if you were intentionally trying to seduce him. He could fight back if you were in on this game of cat and mouse but that wasn’t the case.

Your body was still a prize to be had and poor naïve you did not know that the situations you put yourself in were utter torture to Joker.

Getting stuck in the dryer with just your butt sticking out? Stretching on the couch and practically pushing your breasts in his face? Or when you knelt on the floor with your mouth wide open begging for cock?

Okay, maybe that last one was a fap dream, but still!

How did you not know what you were doing to him? You still went about the apartment cooking and cleaning in those skimpy clothes, and he loved how you still bit your lip and looked away whenever he gave you a compliment.

You adored his silly jokes and that smile of yours would always make him a simp. He took your virginity, yet nothing really changed about you.

Your stupid parents protected you from anything remotely sexual and it was now Joker’s job to educate you. And boy did he have his work cut out.

He would try and instigate things, whether smacking your behind as you walked past or palming your breasts mid make out sessions, all to no avail. One night Joker dry humped you right to the edge of bliss only for you to fall asleep, leaving him raging hard and dumbfounded.

He couldn’t believe you fell asleep during foreplay. It was a blow to his ego and he had no other choice but to jerk off and fall sleep, questioning if he could put up with this for much longer.

He had to take a step back and remember your lack of experience. You didn’t know that you were horny and even after a trip to the clinic, you were still clueless.

You were a child compared to his extensive knowledge of sex. If Joker didn’t tell you his intentions outright, then his dirty comments and attempts at flirting would go through one ear and out the other.

Despite all of this, his little Bunny was smart. You craved knowledge on this secret world of sex—your subconscious actions proved that much; and what better teacher than himself?

Your first night was all about you but Joker wanted to change that. He wanted to test your skills giving pleasure. He remembered the promise he made, ‘I’ll let ya have a uhh, taste, another day Bunny.’

He was a man of his word and let you explore.

Joker was amazed to discover that you lacked a gag reflex and loved the taste of his cum. It was only natural that he teased you about it. “My sweet girl don’tcha re-mem-ber? You gave me such an attitude about how you taste. What was it? Uhh tangy and salty?”

You reminisced back to the night that you lost your virginity. Joker kissed you after eating you out (much to your disgust) and now you felt embarrassed for subconsciously craving his cum.

“I wonder.... what do I taste like, sweet girl?” Joker purred.

His words always made you feel funny.

It happened to be a kink of yours Joker explained. An idea, thing, or act that made you aroused. Every night it seemed you added more and more to your growing list.

And Joker’s influence didn’t stop there. He took educating you very seriously and found informative sex-ed material for you to read in your downtime. He wanted you to know about your anatomy and how to take care of it.

Your parents should’ve been the ones teaching you this stuff but alas.. They were absolute morons.

It was embarrassing to learn about your own body another person (even worse from a man), but you were grateful that Joker took the time and cared enough to do it.

You didn’t want to imagine the alternative of being taken advantage of due to your lack of experience. Joker was a bit rough but what else did you expect from him? It could have been a lot worse.

It was a miracle that he took the time to talk you through every step of sex and then exposed you to the wonders of aftercare.

You couldn’t ask for a better partner. It was why you did well to study hard and learn everything that you could. You actually looked forward to ‘pop quiz’ days. For obvious reasons.

Joker made you lie back on his chest in front of your giant floor length mirror. When you were in position with your legs spread wide open, the test would begin. “Mmm, whaT is this?”

You squirmed as his fingers stroked your outer lips in a v shape, making them slick with your juices. “It’s ah! That’s my labia!”

You felt, more than heard Joker’s approving hum and he didn’t waste any time finding the next body part to quiz you on.

Joker forced you to keep your eyes open and pay attention despite the overwhelming pleasure. He would bite your neck if it took you too long to remember. The sharp pain did little to jog your brain nor did his fingertips rubbing fast circles on your bundle of nerves.

“I think you know what this is.” He laughed as you jerked wantonly in his hold.

Try as you might, you couldn’t answer, especially not when Joker plunged two fingers deep into your pussy and started thrusting them. “What is this, hey shushhhh... hush now doll. Focus. What is this spongy... sensitive... ooey gooey spot that’s melt~ting under my touch?”

So what if you failed that night’s pop quiz? You disqualified yourself by cumming but you still felt like a winner.

Slowly but surely Joker was introducing you to the ways of sex with new and exciting lessons. Soon you would be the insatiable vixen he secretly desired.

If only you would cooperate. It seemed like after sex was over, you were back to your shy, timid self—hiding underneath the covers and asking J, “Did I do okay?”

All he could do was chuckle under his breath ‘It's always the shy ones,’ before tackling you with kisses.

His Princess was a handful yet no one else would have the honor of knowing you so intimately. Joker would kill anyone who dared try. Over time he coped with the fact that you would always be his sweet girl, as innocent as spring.

Which is why he dedicated himself to protecting you. Somehow you convinced J to visit a farmer’s market with you in the Cauldron.

It was a beautiful day out and the people milling around the market brought a lively festive atmosphere to the area.

The crowd was tolerable, but Joker was being a grumpy stick in the mud, preferring to be holed up in an underground hideout or better yet, in your apartment, far away from others. The things he did to make you happy. However, it wasn’t all terrible.

The crowd was an insignificant backdrop when his sweet girl dressed up to the nines stole the show. It took you almost an hour to doll yourself up, but he very much appreciated the final product. You were the focal point in all your beauty.

Your colored skin was fitted with your signature hue of bubblegum pink. Today’s summer dress had detailing that followed the curve of your back right down the bodice. He loved the puffy sleeves and the swooped neckline on you.

You had stopped to quite literally smell the roses, while Joker counted the buttons down your back. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen...

“J? Did you hear me?” Your sweet voice danced on the wind right into his ear. There was never a time that Joker wasn’t laser focused on you. As if he’d miss a single word you said.

“Uhhhh, yeah.” He fished out a dub for you, “Here, pretty girl.”

Ugh you loved the numerous pet names he held for you. Of course, he valued you as a person and knew your real name, but sweet girl, princess, and bunny just sparked something in you. It made you feel special.

You smiled wide and turned back around to exchange the twenty dollar bill with the vendor. It didn’t dawn on you that Joker gave you real money—the both of you were too distracted to make it into a big deal.

Little did you know, Joker was analyzing in the bun you styled your hair in. It was so perfect, not a single strand out of place. You even wore a cute pearl bow as a functional hair clip. Everything matched to create a timeless look.

He stole gifted you a pair of pearl earrings and they glistened each time you moved your head. The cutout of your dress made it impossible to wear a bra, but Joker was taller than you and could see straight down your front. Your tits looked good from any angle.

Random people in the crowd admired the living doll walking amongst them and if not for your scary guard dog (ahem Joker) anyone brave enough could’ve walked up and hit on you.

That would never happen on his watch. Only he could have you.

Joker invested so much into you; it would be a shame for some lesser man to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Joker didn’t care how he looked glued to your side; he wasn’t leaving.

You were all dressed up in pink and ballerina heels with your tall, imposing boyfriend cloaked in black and metal. A grunge king with his ethereal princess. You and Joker were opposites in so many ways, yet the relationship just worked.

He loved seeing the innocent wonder shine through your e/c eyes as he explained different kinds of knives and torture methods, and you enjoyed helping him stir cake batter after the horrific lesson. Nothing he did scared you away. J could do no wrong in your sheltered eyes.

Speaking of your innocence, it was tangible in the afternoon air. It must’ve been the way the sun beamed down on you like a spotlight or perhaps it was the dress you were wearing. Either way, Joker couldn’t stop staring.

How could he ignore the way you wore your hair? You carried yourself with a regal splendor, even if you were self-conscious almost all of the time. You were quite the sight to be seen in his opinion.

You thanked the stall owner and lifted your new bouquet of flowers to your nose.

You took in the delicate scent; Joker drank in the sight of you. Times like this he wished he carried that Polaroid camera with him more often. He could take a thousand pictures of you and still fail to capture your beauty properly.

It was the little things you did that made him want to stay with you. If he lost you? No. He didn’t want to consider the possibility. He was already insane; you were the only thing keeping him from turning into a killing machine. You and your infinite beauty, he could barely breathe right while in your presence.

You were caught in a ray of sunlight and Joker’s eyes widened in awe. Those sunlit eyes of yours… they could rival the world’s finest gems.

And somehow you were blissfully ignorant of the destruction that one single look from you could inflict. Hence the state Joker found himself in.

“Is there something wrong, J? Your eyes look really spacey.” You lowered your flowers and devoted your full attention on Joker.

And that seemed to make the situation worse. Undiscovered shades of green swirled within Joker’s eyes. He was most definitely spaced out and you were to blame. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He swore under breath and grabbed your hand. You yelped and tried your best to keep up with Joker’s long strides in your dainty heels. A few people looked on in concern, but none dared to speak up against Joker.

He was a man on a mission.

There weren’t that many options at this dumb farmer’s market, but he’d make do. He had to.

“J-J.. where are you taking us?” You gasped as he shoved the nearby park’s restroom door open and flung you inside.

The lock dial turned to occupied and his mask was ripped off. Then it was just you and Joker in the cramped public bathroom.

It wasn’t what he had in mind and definitely not the best locale, judging by your adorable pout. Both of you knew that you deserved better accommodations than this.

You didn’t have a chance to argue since Joker backed you into the door to cup your face. Your flowers fell from your grasp in order to hold onto Joker’s hair.

His kisses had a way of erasing your thoughts. Your only brain function was breathing and moving your lips to match Joker’s urgent pace.

He devoured you whole and only pulled back to catch his breath. “I need ya. Right. Now.”

He was already lifting your dress up when you replied, “H-Here?” You glanced around the stall in open disgust. Surely, he was joking. His devilish smile said otherwise.

“Are you wet for me, baby doll? Lemme check.” Joker dropped to his knees and grinned, finding a wet spot already ruining your panties.

Your mouth might deny, deny, deny but your body craved J without a doubt.

Joker peeled your panties to the side and lapped at your juices. Your instincts cautioned you to be quiet, (this was a public place after all) but Joker reached up and pulled your hand away from your mouth.

“None of that, doll. I wanna hear ya. Cry out if it uh, feels good. I know it doesss.” He resumed his focus back on your pussy and indulged himself like a starved man.

Joker’s loud slurps and eager swallows filled the hollowed room and forced you to hold onto his hair for balance. You refused to touch anything inside this place for support.

The back of your head banged against the door, “J, it feels weird.. please I can’t..”

He pulled away to lock eyes with you. “Aht ahttt. You know better, Princess. If you’re gonna cum, then... use your uhh, big girl words, ‘n tell me. None of that shy girl s__t.”

You totally forgot about Joker’s rules in the throes of passion. You were educated now, so he expected you to speak accordingly.

You mentally corrected yourself. Your pussy felt weird because Joker was eating you out with every intention of making you climax on his face. Now if only you could articulate that out loud..

He flicked his tongue against your clit, causing you to lose your train of thought. It only took a moment, but you cried out and came over Joker's tongue. He was upset that you didn’t express yourself more, but he still growled in delight before cleaning up his treat.

He stood up and bent down towards you, but you turned your head away, “Eww no kisses!!”

Now that got a laugh from your clown. You still thought your own cum was yucky. He was still chuckling to himself as he undid his belt. The sharp chime it made always got your attention.

You raised an eyebrow when he began grinding his hard on into your thigh. “J-Joker?” Did he not get what he wanted?

“I saidddddd. I need ya, Y/n. It’ll be quick, I p-prom— oh f__k!” Joker moaned mid-sentence, feeling your wet pussy welcoming his dick inside. It felt like coming home after a long day, you were amazing.

You knew how big Joker was, you held his girth in your hands before. He was a big boy and yet he respected the size difference every time the two of you joined. Slow and steady was the game until he was flush with your hips.

He would remain there until you nodded that it was okay to move.

Just because you were no longer a virgin didn’t mean your pussy could accommodate him so quickly. There would always be a stretch to fight through and overcome. But after a while, you gave him the green light to start.

It felt criminal to depart from your warmth, but that delicious friction was sought after by the both of you. The first few thrusts were always the most intense and your toes curled in your heels as Joker pistoled back inside you with a guttural groan. He readjusted his grip on you right before he pulled out again—only to bottom out at a snail’s pace. The heavy drag of him brushing against your walls was just too good to rush.

Now that Joker pinned you to the door, you could cling onto his shoulders and relax.

You trusted him to hold you steady, like he’d ever let you fall. He loved how you buried your face into his shoulder when it became too much. It gave him the perfect opportunity to kiss along your neck and coo in your ear.

“M’sorry, Princess. I just need to.. I just need. Agh, I can’T.. get enough of ya.” Joker groaned into your ear.

His pace suddenly picked up and rattled the door against your back with each powerful thrust. Should anyone walk by the park restroom, it was obvious what was happening inside. That thought made you gush even more on Joker who immediately took notice.

“Look at yoooooooou my pretty. Little. Slut. Taking cock in some uh, public stall. You that needy doll?” His grip tightened on your waist as he sped up even more. You swore you could feel him hitting your brain, he was so deep.

The wet slap of his balls repeatedly hitting your thighs rang out in the empty stall. There was no way you were walking out of here and Joker knew it.

But how dare he blame this on you? You were minding your own business at the market before he dragged you in here! You had to put your foot down. “No! Ah, y-you’re the needy one, J!”

He was too far gone in your pussy to hear your weak cries but you finally got his attention by clenching down on his dick. He shuddered to a standstill before regaining his momentum. There was no way you were becoming self-aware of your charms and using them against him. Joker glanced your way, only to find that you were already staring at him.

He couldn’t take your fluttering walls and your smoldering eyes.

Both were just too much so he buried his face in your neck. “I know, sweet girl! J-Just uh.. f__k, meeee. Why are you soooo tight?” Joker had to catch his breath and get your permission. “I need ya to cum, Princess. Ya got one more?”

Two orgasms seemed to be your limit and it was sweet enough of Joker to ask if you could cum again instead of expecting it from you. He made sure you stayed hydrated to get the most out of your big O’s.

At this point you were cock drunk, so he took your subby uh huh’s as a yes and smiled wide. “Atta girl, go on... don’t be... nghh, shy bunny. Let me have itttt.”

The audible slaps, Joker’s praise in your ear, and the eye rolling thrusts he pounded into your pussy, it was all too much to handle.

Your whole body shook in Joker’s hold as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your nails punctured holes in his jacket, not that he minded, and you crossed your ankles over his back—locking him right where you wanted him to be.

It was a nonverbal signal for him to let go and cum inside.

Joker chanted your name as each rope of cum shot into your cunt. He never came this much; it was making him dizzy, however his grip on your never faltered. The last thing he would ever do was drop his Princess regardless of his physical state. He just sagged his weight onto the door, squishing you further into the hard surface.

The room was quiet save for the collective pants of air you and Joker took. You breathed in his exhale and vice versa until he leaned back to gaze into your eyes.

He wasn’t surprised to find they were heart shaped and hazy. He had no doubt that his were similar. “You feelin’ alright, doll?”

Was he kidding? You felt amazing! At least, the parts that you could feel. There was a numb, tingling buzz spreading throughout your body after such a powerful orgasm. You were in the arms of your lover riding your afterglow; there was no doubt you were satisfied.

You caressed Joker’s scars with a big smile. It slipped your mind that he was the one that instigated this interaction. But almost like clockwork, the sex was over, and you were reverting back to your naïve ways.

“I want strawberries, J.”

Joker almost dropped you after hearing that.

Only his sweet girl would blurtout something so random after sex. He wheezed out a laugh and with great care, carried you over to the sink area.

You made a noise upon contact and Joker rolled his eyes at your inner germaphobe having a conniption. It was too little, too late to be acting out. You did just have sex with him in a public bathroom after all.

“Calm down, Bunny. We’ll uhh, clean you up, later. Lemme fix ya back pretty. Mkay?” He waited until you pouted and eventually nodded before starting.

Joker wetted a wad of paper towels and wiped your pussy and inner thighs as best he could. The soap was abysmal, so he went without. Your panties were soiled with his cum, but it wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last occurrence. Joker secretly liked you walking around with a reminder of what he did to you.

Joker was fixing you back presentable when you batted your lashes at him. “Okay.... I still want strawberries. Can I get some, J?”

He was still confused. How could your mind quickly bounce from sex to fruit? “Huh?”

“J.... listen! I saw some fresh strawberries at the farmer’s market like a few stalls down. Can you buy me a pint? Ooh and replace my flowers? You.... you um stepped on them when you...”

The tips of your ears turned red and Joker knew why. It was far too easy to tease you.

He tipped your chin up, “When I whaT, Bunny?” A quick glance over at the floor revealed the trampled flowers underfoot.

You didn’t need to explain. They were no doubt a victim of his efforts to pound into you without abandon. The flowers were replaceable and judging by your watery eyes, he’d better buy you new ones and fresh strawberries or he wouldn’t hear the end of it. Whatever his sweet girl wants, she gets. That was his motto from the very beginning, and he considered himself a man of his word.

Joker sighed to himself, nodding. “Yeah, yeah. Let's go get my gooo~oood girl a reward then we’ll errr head on home, ‘kay? I might get ya dirty again before I get ya all cleaned up.”

“How does that sound, Princess?” Joker bopped you on the nose. Your bashful nod was your only response. Now that wouldn’t do!

He bent down to kiss your cheek, making sure that the exaggerated mwah got a response out of you. Just his luck, it did. He smiled wide at the peal of laughter you let out. “Okay!”

His sweet girl laughing was the best sound in the world.

#ledger joker x reader #ledger!joker x reader #ledger joker #heath joker #black!fem!reader #joker x y/n #joker x reader #reader insert #thanks anon!#thanks for the ask!#romance #cross posted on ao3 #pink aesthetic #cross posted on wattpad #innocent!reader #dark knight joker #the joker #J had too much fun corrupting poor Y/n #his lighthouse

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1-49 · 7 months

Text

𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴.

➺ pairing: f!reader × park wonbin ⁝ genre: angst, suggestive. warnings: pinning, some language ig. wc: 1k

You are in this bed with him... wearing your bracelets, which he bought. With bedsheets that stank of roses and this very intense scent of sandalwood incense sticks.

His face is a blank, almost cold & emotionless, and the soft yellowish hue of the bedside table only serves to pierce and kill the reality painted upon that gorgeous canvas of his—make him less flat and give him more of a curve, coloring him in warm where in reality in this relationship that you 2 share he’s just a shadow, an absence of light.

Sure, Wonbin has made his way into your heart, through pain and heartbreak, through beautiful and less beautiful, but you are still the same stray cat at the foot of his door who is never let in... He lures you in with his smile as he speaks. As he continues to smirk through flirt and nonchalant. As his cotton lips move in a natural peach colour and his eyes enchant you at first to just leave you buried in their deep chocolate soils later, just keeping you on the edge—tense, nervous.

Right, he pats your head and offers you food, but he never lets you go any further.

And you have been told. You were aware of the facts. You met them through a friend of a friend. Exes and ex casualties. For Wonbin is emotionally untouchable. He could be put on a marathon of love and run and run, never quite understanding the purpose of what he is running for other than the sense that seems logical to him, which is that a race is just a race and that it must be won. It is not required to have any—

... significance.

Yes… it doesn’t. Just like this. Just like you… just like you two. In this bed. All of it. All of you two… It is completely meaningless.

... As he lays face to face with you, his fingers twist to later push the silky strap of your dress down the curve of your left shoulder ... intently watching you. His white shirt is unbuttoned at the neck and unformal at the bottom, rolled up, revealing a little of his heavenly skin, and his loosely tied tie speaks for itself, exposing those godly collarbones.

He is unconcerned... Loose… In the present, but not fully present. His fingers continue to delicately walk the side of your neck, then tuck some of your hair behind your ear.

You swear you see an ember in his hot deaden stare.

But are you really noticing it, or do you wish it was there?

Damn, right, the lamplight gently falls on his face and begins to warm you up. A warm tease at the end of spring that you are not sure how to handle. You have no idea how to deal with him. The warmth grows as he holds the side of your face in his palm. You should know what he means by such intimate gestures, but then you should also know better.

Hair strands fall over his face... over his eyes.

His hair is messy. Dark. Sultry. When he is not at his peak, he drives you insane. When he is at his most natural. Most lazy. When he does not seek perfection. He is a tantalizing sight... And when he looks at you with tired eyes, he runs you into the ground.

And he is aware. Wonbin is aware of the effect his dreamy looks have on you, so he employs them against you.

So you prefer to look at his loosened tie rather than his eyes. You wish you could despise him for being such a mother*ucker, but most importantly for being a mother*ucker to you, yet—

... You flinch as his thumb presses against your bottom lip, tilting your chin up. You are always far too frail! You are always too immersed in the moment, even beyond the moment... You are always further away—kissing him, loving him, even marrying him—all while he is... well, just... here.

His thumb drags indecently along your bottom soft, and the pull on your chin to keep looking at him is strong and fixed.

You proceed to grab his wrist, to get him to stop, to make this the last night, to bring it to an end, and your (his) bracelets ring with the movement. They glint slightly. A pleasant muffled clinking that, unknowingly to you, gives him a hard-on.

Because your bodies move until they, too, are brought together, the sheets begin to form bulges as they are brought together.

You are thinking about fighting him. To provide him with a broad spectrum of reasons why he is a jerk. To argue against his cruel ways. To downgrade his beliefs. To expose all of his lies—

But, yes... Wonbin has never lied to you. If there is one thing he never does, it is lie to you. Even in his pursuits, he is pragmatic.

And you are in this state... this state when you consider the end so near, just until he tightens his grip on your chin even more, and his black orbs intertwine with yours in a sadistic dance.

It takes you years to build up this courage, and it only takes him seconds to destroy it.

And although his cards are all spread and open for you, you will never understand what he wants. Always so precalculated, firm, & rooted.

And so, of course, you can not comprehend such a mind because the moment he bites his lips, your questions begin to tingle.

That is how, instead of coming up with reasons and solutions to validate your feelings and make sense of the situation, your teeth clench as you imagine his lips and their taste of naked peach. Of course, you want them right under your ear. Of how you want them soft, then irritated as he gets the words rolling. And you begin to forget everything as you whimper and shake beneath him, his teeth raving with your neck.

“I think—” you interject.

A “Mh-hmm” comes out muffled from the sloppy makouts with your throat, then his lips start climbing your neck.

“I,” you do your best to breathe, weakened and dumbed by the edges of his midnight hair that spill over his face in an attempt to reach you. His gaze is damned, riled, & his lips are roused from his attacks as he hovers above you.

“I think I—I want this to s-stop,” you eventually manage. Brows tying in anger with him... with yourself. In burning hums that bang on the door of his lashes.

But never… Never at his heart...

“Uh huh... I don’t think so,” Wonbin mocks, smirking. “Notice your body.” His hand reaches for the hem of your silk, gradually riding the fabric and feeling every inch of your awakened skin. “How you react,” he breathes.

And when his nose brushs against yours, you know you are about to collapse all over again. For an idiot. As an idiot... A tremor runs down your spine, followed by a series of sweet heart kicks... An absolute nothing.

Your cheeks are hot, shamed, and raged, and if he touches or kisses them, it will get worse.

... And Wonbin will. do. just. that—pushing your nerves into a corner and leaving you feverish and sweating. He is taunting and kissing your vulnerability for him. And, surprisingly, so, you are leaving him wanting more, inviting him back for another round, another loop of your lovley moans.

“Your shivers speak of anything other than what your angel mouth is letting on,” he says, his teeth peaking in an evil half-smile-half-bite inches from you. “You know, you”

Yes, you know...

“are,” Wonbin’s lips ghost along yours; “soooo,” his mouth gapes; “bad,” the tip of his tongue tases to subdue you; “for lying. You know what the consequences of lying are?”

Oh, you are so about to lose all over again.

His body is hot against yours,

as your “reasonably ” made-up lies are washed away by his truth, no matter how ugly it is. Your stifled moans & the clink of your bracelets make him dizzy.

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avianyuh · 30 days

Note

Hey can i get one with nct127 members, commenting their gf ig posts<3

NCT 127 Commenting on their Girlfriend's Instagram Post

[A/N: Because of the public nature of social media, I would assume that in this scenario, the relationship would be public, so that's how I'm writing this piece, hope you enjoy!]

Taeil:

You had gone on a trip with a few friends for the weekend. Taeil had stayed home. He missed you even though you were texting back and forth the whole time. You had gone to a series of places with your friends, taking pictures of all of them.

It wasn't until the last day of your trip, two weeks without seeing Taeil, that you had posted your favorite pictures onto your instagram account.

Since Taeil is usually pretty quiet, he doesn't normally comment on your posts. But when your phone started blowing up an hour after you had posted your trip highlights, you were surprised to see a comment by your boyfriend.

Looks like fun!, Was all he commented. And of course, his fans were all in the replies which made you smile. He really must miss you.

Johnny:

You had just been out shopping with Johnny and was excited to try on this new outfit that you'd bought. You ran straight through the door when you got home and immediately tried on your new outfit.

Johnny stood outside of the bedroom door as you changed.

"Are you done yet?", he called out.

"Yep. Close your eyes", you said through the door.

You opened it, sticking one leg out first before fully emerging. You stood on your tippy toes and uncovered Johnny's eyes.

"Voila", you said with jazz hands for dramatic effect. Johnny playfully raised his eyebrows beofe swiftly pulling out his phone and taking a picture as you posed, playing along.

Johnny is definitely the type to be all over your instagram. As we all know, this boy loves his fashion. So, no surprise that he's the type to want to get all dressed up with you, take a bunch of photos and then comment on your pictures with something like:

Where did you get the inspiration👀

Taeyong:

Taeyong is definitely one of the more vocal members when it comes to social media. So it was pretty common for him to leave a few comments on your posts.

In this particular instance, he had left a comment to take credit for a photo you had posted that he had taken of you.

You had been out at a restaurant while on vacation together. You had been looking over the menu and kept pointing at different things you wanted to try. Getting all surprised and gasping every time you read something out that seemed interesting to you.

This was all very amusing to your boyfriend who decided to sneakily grab his phone and take a photo of the moment. He didn't show you the photo until you guys were back at home and looking through all the pictures you had each taken from the trip.

You had laughed and at first asked him to delete it. But it seemed to grow on you since you ended up posting it.

Taeyong's comment read: Hey, you forgot to credit the photographer!

Yuta:

*I'm divided on if he'd be the type to be loud and proud about his relationship or would want to keep things private. Personally, I think he'd lean toward the private side*

Yuta rarely comments on your posts. But he does like all of them, which nctzens always take notice of. In this instance, you also weren't big on posting a lot on social media. But after spending a day at home with your boyfriend, one that you wanted to remember by capturing a picture of the two of you on the couch...you had no intention of posting it.

UNTIL, it was your anniversary. Like many couples do, you posted multiple photos, the first one being that picture from the day off you had spent together.

And because it was an anniversary post, Yuta responded: I love you

*Yeah I see him as the type to be straight to the point. The man can tell a joke but with you, he just loves to make everyone aware of how much he loves you*

Doyoung:

Also very subtle, doesn't really comment on your posts usually. In this case, he had been busy with work and hadn't seen you in awhile. Don't get it twisted though, you spoke on the phone, FaceTimed and texted as much a possible. But he did miss you a lot and so did you.

He had been scrolling through his Instagram one day while taking a break during practice and saw your new picture.

Just one of yourself, smiling into the camera.

He couldn't help himself, his fingers immediately began typing: I miss you, save the smile for me!

Jaehyun:

Pretty boi here is no stranger to Instagram. Actually it's usually you commenting on his posts, not the other way around.

Long story short, the two of you had gotten in a fight. Funnily enough, you didn't even remember what had started it. However, you do remember Jaehyun storming out and not returning your call the next day.

You knew it would pass but you were still worried that he was mad when you hadn't heard from him. But that was until you had gone out with a friend to get your mind off of the fight with your boyfriend. You had a nice dinner, but you drank a little too much and drunkily posted a picture of your friend and you.

The next morning after you woke up, you checked your phone to see that it had been blowing up with notifications.

I hope you had fun👍 was all his comment said, bit you knew it was his weird way of saying he was ready to talk.

Jungwoo:

The two of you had gone on a date, taken some pictures and uploaded them. Fans connected the dots, noticed the locations were the same and were uploaded on the same day.

Jungwoo thought it was a funny situation so to add to the fans hysteria, he commented:

That was fun!

Mark:

Mark, though never shy with you in private, was very shy when it came to PDA. So he never really commented on your posts.

However, when you uploaded a photo you had taken of yourself, nothing fancy, he couldn't help but support his girlfriend.

He would comment something like:

So beautiful

Donghyuk:

Would definitely be pretty open about your relationship, which would show a lot on instagram.

I think he would comment on your posts all of the time. In this case, it would be a photo that you posted of the two of you together. And I think Donghyuk would be pretty comical when it came to his comments.

I look better than you in this

[A/N 2: I haven't used gifs in awhile and let me tell y'all. Why are the gifs lacking so much now? So I tried my best to get some good gifs that went with the prompt. Anyways, this was kind of short but I have a lot more requests to fill for NCT and Baekhyun. I think the next one in my inbox is an NCT fic so that'll probably be next. Love youuuuuu and thank you to anon for the request!]

#nct 127 #nct #jaehyun #nct reactions #yuta #taeyong #nct johnny #taeil #lee donghyuck #doyoung #nct jungwoo #mark lee #nct mark #nct x reader #nct fanfic

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cassieoz · 4 months

Text

Overdue

Tori shook wildly from side to side, trying to remain focused. The pain was enormous. Her overdue baby was fighting to be born. Torn was panting, begging to push against the gigantic pressure at her opening. The doctor and the midwife were growing worried about the progress of her labor. The doctor told Tori that on the next contraction, she could start to push. The next pain exploded seconds later. Tori howled loudly as her effort to push caused more suffering....."I can't do it! It won't move! Its fighting me! What is going wrong?"

Tori had been admitted to the private birthing centre three days ago with minor cramping. The head doctor was aware of Tori's condition. He had been waiting for natural labor to begin for the older mother. He had assured her that birthing an overdue baby at her age was perfectly safe. Her baby was only a week overdue. He had delivered many babies in similar circumstances without incident.

The head doctor waited and monitored her pregnancy until this morning. The baby still had not come so he ordered an slow medical induction. Tori had been experiencing minor pains irregularly up to the procedure. She was ready for the next stage to commence. The baby seemed be larger than ever. The induction began as routine. The midwife stayed with her, setting up the comfortable home birthing environment, following Tori's birth plan.

Half an hour after the dosage was administered, things began to go horribly wrong. The pains were coming faster and stronger than expected in early labor. Tori thrashed wildly on the bed, begging to push out her baby. The midwife checked and was completely shocked to find her patient was fully dilated.

The doctor on duty was paged and within minutes, both medical professionals were trying to help Tori cope with the intensity of her labor.

In the delivery unit......

"The next patient is ready for birth in the centre, Doctor."

The head of maternity looked up and grinned widely as he finished scrubbing up and dressing in full dark scrubs. He had been waiting for this moment for three long days!

"When will she be arriving?"

The maternity nurse smiled with excitement as well. The birthing centre had contacted the delivery unit with the emergency case. The patient was being transferred as they prepared the delivery suite. The maternity staff were going to try the new birthing formula. It was very experimental but it was also known in trials to be very effective.

Tori was about to be the first birther to deliver an hugely overdue baby, naturally and with drugs to do it without instruments!!!!

#giving birth #labor and delivery

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mywritingonlyfans · 1 year

Text

Reflections of Desire // Alex Turner X Reader. Smut!

prompt: Alex teaching you how to touch yourself in front of a mirror with you between his legs. (be aware that this writing was supposed to be part of my Freshness fic, although it has nothing to do with the fic itself, chances are you'll feel like you've read something similar to mine already; I was going to delete it but thought I'd post it anyway)

warnings: fingering, dry humping, dirty talk, praise kink and soft dom Alex.

words: 3,3K.

The warmth emanating from Alex's closet had you questioning if the heat coursing through your body was due to the light or the moment itself - perhaps it was both. As he worked to unclasp your bra, you straightened your back and met his gaze in the mirror. His undivided attention was fixed on you, from your head down to your toes. Goosebumps prickled across your skin at the touch of his fingertips, and his smile was so captivating that you found yourself unable to look away from him.

"Tonight, you're the star, little one. Look at yourself," he said, pulling a handful of your hair and forcing you to face the mirror. It was harsh, yet good. Despite the slight discomfort, you couldn't help but admire the reflection, taking in both your own image and Alex's figure behind you, holding you close between his legs on the cool marble floor. Holding back a contented sigh, you basked in the moment, feeling completely at ease in his arms.

You shifted slightly, feeling Alex spread his legs wider to make room for you to snuggle into them. Your bare back and the rest of your body fit perfectly against his covered chest. He was dressed in a velvety light blue suit that looked as if it had been tailor-made to fit his body - and yours as well.

You were completely exposed to him, naked while he remained fully dressed, and the giant mirror in front of you only underscored the situation. You didn't feel embarrassed. There was something about it, combined with the look Alex was giving you, that made you feel hot and desired. He had a power over you that you could never explain; a simple touch or look was enough to make you surrender.

"Can you repeat that again?" You asked, frowning as you turned your head slightly to look at his pulpy and red cheeks. He had his eyebrows curved in a v of concentration and you kissed him into softness.

"Sure thing, hot stuff," he said, using yet another playful pet name as he pulled you closer, settling you comfortably onto his lap. "Here's what's goin’ to ‘appen, pup. I've been thinking - since I'll be away for a while, and I’m afraid it's nothing but fair that I teach you a few tricks. Y’know, so you don't forget ‘bout me." He spoke casually, with a silk voice and the same usual punctuation between words as if he wasn't making you burn under your skin, the effect he had on you was anything but the calmness he was exhaling. You rested your head on his shoulder, trying to keep your composure as he played with the fire in your heart.

His hands roamed over your waist, reaching up to your breasts, and then squeezing them a bit and way too hard.

“Do you want me to touch myself for you?” You stuttered, soon regretting it.

You had imagined your voice would come out soft and confident, but the reality was that it was impossible to sound coherent right after Alex had hinted at what he just did.

Alex was your first-ever proper boyfriend, the first to ever explore your body intimately, and he knew every inch of you like the back of his hand. He knew exactly what turned you on and how to make you moan in nothing but pure pleasure. It was an unknown feeling for you, not that you didn't enjoy it, but you couldn't match the intensity he brought to your encounters. You and Al were very open with each other, and he knew that he had an uncanny ability to make you feel things you never knew were even possible.

"It's not for me," his deep voice echoed in your ear, and you felt a slight twinge of self-consciousness, even though you were still comfortably nestled in his arms. It was like a shiver but inside your lower stomach. "You're doing this for yourself, and I'll be “ere to guide you every step of the way."

"You're trying to be all teacher-like with me, huh?" you teased, a playful grin spreading across your face.

He pulled you closer to him, his arms wrapping around your body as he rested his chin on your shoulder. "Well, I suppose you could say that," he chuckled. "I just want to make sure you take good care of yourself while I'm away. You agree with me on that, right, babe?"

You shook your head in frustration, causing him to emit a mocking chuckle. "I like that," he remarked. "I've hardly laid a finger on you, little one." He yanked your hair, exerting pressure so that you would pay attention to your reflection. "Look at you, already panting and sweating."

You grumbled Al's name, but he only pulled at your head harder, causing you to cry out in pain on his lap. He held you tightly, pulling you towards him and planting a wet, sloppy kiss on your lips. You moaned softly and leaned into him, hoping for more intimacy, but he suddenly pushed you away and grabbed you by the same messy and loose locks, forcing you to look at him. He watched as you slowly came down from your suddenly breathing mess before whispering, "Alright, puppy. Get ready in position, just like I had you at the beginning of it all." His fingers tightened around you, leaving you no choice but to follow his.

You repositioned yourself without a word, settling between his thighs as his growing bulge pressed against you. He rested his hands on the cold floor, patiently waiting for you to find a comfortable position. Planting a damp kiss on your shoulder, he gently brushed away strands of hair that framed your face, pulling you close until your back was snug against his chest.

You glanced at him in the mirror and asked, "This way?" He responded by wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his face into the skin of your neck. As he did so, he took a bite and sucked, leaving a mark that was beginning to darken.

He demanded, holding your torso tightly in his left arm, "Spread your legs for me, pet." Enamored by the way his eyes scanned over your body as you made your way up between his legs, you slowly parted your knees, giving him a delightful view. You winced as he brought his free hand to your stomach, dragging the stones of his rings through your skin, lower and lower.

"Al," you sighed, feeling shivers run through your spine. "Please."

He let out a chuckle and blew air on the bruise he had just created on your neck. "Why the rush? We need to take it slow so that you can learn," he said, while scraping his nails on your stomach. He was patient and cautious, quite irritating. You gulped as he did so. "Will you promise me to pay attention to the lesson, babe?" he asked.

You eagerly bobbed your head, stealing a glance at his face to see his tongue between his teeth in a goofy, silly grin and all red ears in anticipation. "Yes, I promise," you said. He laughed a little, pure sweetness out of his lungs, as if he couldn't believe such an event.

"That's my girl," he said, admiring you from your gentle hip thrusts to the baby hair sticking to your forehead. "’ere's what's going to happen; I'll describe each move for you to repeat later. But first, I want you to stimulate your nipples." The sound of his voice reverberated in your mind, and though you were still unaccustomed to hearing those kinds of words from him, you felt a surge of confidence as you watched the color deepen in his cheeks. It made you certain of the possibilities, including the potential for homemade videos that you could send him while he was away on tour after that.

You nodded, your heart racing as you took in his instructions. You brought your hand back up, but he quickly caught your wrist, reminding you to use a light to moderate touch. His voice was like music to your ears, making you feel weak in the knees. As he massaged your breast, you couldn't help but bounce in his lap in soft sighs, feeling the metal of his rings graze over your sensitive skin. His skilled hands moved from massaging to twisting, alternating with pinching on you, sending mind a bit too dizzy for your liking.

As he praised you for your response to him, your body tingled with joy. Your nipples stiffened under his touch as he held your breast, teasing it with the metal of his rings. “You like that, huh? I know you do, babe,” he said, relishing in your reaction. “Now try it yourself, give 'em a good squeeze, and do as I told you.”

Taking a deep breath, you followed his husky words and cupped them with your hands. You missed the sensation of his larger hands, but with his guidance, you quickly found your rhythm. Starting with groping them, you then moved onto pinching, rubbing, and pulling at your nipples, focusing on directing pleasure to yourself. It wasn't as good as when Alex did it, but it still felt great.

“Good girl,” he whispered into your ear as he took in how you writhe under his touch. He continued to press his thumb against your sensitive spot, eliciting moans and gasps from you. With his other hand, he traced lazy circles on your belly, occasionally dipping down to lightly brush against your inner thighs.

Your eyes fluttered closed again, lost in the sensations he was creating. You could feel the heat building up inside you, and you knew that you were close to the edge. Not only for this alone, but due to all of it together; his voice, hands and toned fingers dancing around you like he was the proper devil in disguise. His touch on top of that was just too much for you to handle, and you were powerless to resist.

He chuckled as he felt your body tense up under his ministrations. “That’s it, my lil’ one,” he murmured, increasing the pressure on your clit. Then, out of a sudden, he stopped, making you whimper and frown in frustration.

“I thought I warned you that you're supposed to watch, learn, and execute this yourself.” And once again the full-bodied voice clashed with the angelic gaze he had on you, and yet it was so good.

“Alex,” you moaned as he nibbled on your collarbone. “Please guide me, then.”

He chuckled softly, running his hands down your body until they reached your hips. He pulled you closer, grinding his bulge against you. “I'll guide you, babe,” he said, his voice deep and reassuring. “Just trust me and follow my lead.”

You nodded eagerly, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. He turned you around, facing the mirror, and positioned himself behind you, like properly this time, letting every inch of him be noticeable for you. His hands slid up your sides and cupped your breasts, squeezing them gently. “Now, watch yourself,” he whispered, tracing his lips along your earlobe. “Watch how your body reacts to my touch.”

You watched in the mirror as he moved his hands down to your hips again, gripping them firmly. He pressed himself closer to you, rubbing his bulge against your ass. “Now, grind against me,” he instructed. “Slowly, feel how hard I am for you.”

You did as he said, rolling your hips against him, feeling the heat between your legs growing. He slid his hand down between your thighs, teasing your clit a bit more. “That's it, puppy,” he murmured, his breath hot on your neck. “Let yourself feel it.” You knew that wasn't his original purpose, but you wanted nothing more than to let him have what he wanted from you.

You moaned softly, grinding harder against him, feeling your body start to tremble. He kept up the teasing touches, urging you on. “You're doing so well, babe,” he whispered. “Keep going.”

Finally, you couldn't hold back any longer. You came with a cry, your body shaking with pleasure. He held you tightly, his own body pulsing against yours. “Good girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “You did so well.”

As he held you tight, he allowed himself to lose himself in the moment, taking in every sigh that escaped your lips. Your full body was reflected in the mirror, bathed in warm lighting, and he couldn't help but appreciate the sight of you. Your swollen lips repeated his name like a mantra, driving him to a state of ecstasy. It was as if time had stopped, and all that existed was the two of you, intertwined in a moment of pure rapture.

Your body shuddered as his teeth grazed over the sensitive spot he had already teased so hard on, sending an electric current over you. "Alex, please," you cried out, your nails digging into the fabric of his pants. Simple and direct, he knew he could go on.

Peppering kisses up to the corner of your mouth, he showered you in more praise. Your disappointment was screaming into silence and he found it entertaining. You were still shaking, but needed more than that. "Fine, babe. Let's keep with that," he said, holding your waist tightly as he rested his chin on your shoulder. Looking at your bodies intertwined in the mirror, you couldn't help but feel exhilarated.

"Just follow my voice, babe. Is that okay for you?" he asked.

"More than okay, Al. Just go on, please," you replied, lost in the moment. Your pulse was so fast you couldn't think straight, your next steps were clearly more Alex's than your own.

Hearing the disapproval in his sober tone, you snapped back to reality, driving your attention back to him. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" you asked, lost in a blissful daze.

With a sniffle, he fought back a smile. He knew from your expression that you wouldn't be able to repeat what he had just said if he asked. "Don't be in such a hurry, we have plenty of time to make you enjoy yourself," he reassured you, taking your hand in his and guiding it down to your stomach. "I want you to brush your pretty clit with a light touch, drawing circles with your fingertips - like this," he said, demonstrating the motion for you. As he spoke, he maintained a smooth and calm demeanor, gently pressing his fingers against you to prolong the sensation.

You couldn't help but whimper in a silent moan as you paid attention to how his fingertips became lubricated. Suddenly, you were brought back to reality as he repeated himself a little louder, "I said show me what you just learned!" Your cheeks flushed as you realized that you had once again lost focus.

You effortlessly took control, replacing his hand with your own, obediently following his instructions. Slowly, you began rubbing in gentle circles, your movements delicate and precise. Though your fingers were smaller than his, the way your essence coated them, even just at the tips, was remarkable and hypnotizing.

The image of your slick digits made you crave more, but you resisted the urge to speed up, mindful of his guidance. You couldn't help but think how different it would be if it were his thicker ones inside you. You sighed around the feeling.

"That’s my good girl," he whispered, his lip caught between his teeth. "Now, slide your fingers down, be careful as you push them inside of you, pet." You did as he instructed, your eyes focused on how your knuckles filled you to perfection.

As your fingers moved with practiced ease, you let out a soft moan. The sound seemed to ignite something within him, and he couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement as he watched you in the mirror. He could see the desire etched on your face, your lips parted in a perfect 'o'. Your breath came in short gasps, and your knees threatened to give up on you.

"Like that?" you asked him, your voice husky and breathless, seeking his approval.

He smiled at you, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror. "Just like that, babe," he said, he sounded full of adoration. He wondered if you saw yourself in the same way that he did - a vision of beauty, lost in the throes of passion.

"Watch yourself, babe. You're so beautiful," he continued, reveling in the sight of you lost in his own mind space. Your chest rose and fell with each passing breath, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at how well you were doing.

He wrapped his arm around you, his hand encircling your neck as he held you still. The full palms and long fingers doing you perfectly well. "You're doing so great, learning so fast for me." He whispered, his lips brushing against your ear.

As he directed your gaze to the mirror, he tightened his fingers around your throat, a gesture meant to guide you, not hurt you. "Look at how perfect you are," he urged you. "All whimpering and sweaty on my lap, giving yourself your best. You're such a good girl, little one."

As you purred into Alex's ear, your lips curved into a lazy smile. "You did this, you make me drippin' wet," you whispered, feeling your pace slow down. Sensing this, he pressed his hand over yours, urging you to continue. Your legs trembled at his touch and he locked them in place by swinging his legs over your shin. You mouthed that you were close, and the feeling alone was great, but the sound of Alex's voice and the reflection of his hand in the mirror took your breath away, causing your brain to stop working all over again. You failed to close your thighs and squeeze your hand over his in vain, and instead threw your head back in delight, feeling his joints ease into your neck as your toes curled.

It took a few minutes for your breathing to stabilize as Alex held you in his arms, and you could feel the damp fabric of his pants against your slippery body. "I guess I made a good mess," you mumbled, but Alex silenced you with a soft kiss. "It's alright, babe. You did a great job," he said, cradling you against his chest.

As you looked straight ahead, you took in your messy hair and Alex's smug smile and with some locks over his forehead as well. Burrowing your face into his neck, you mumbled something incoherent against his skin, and he chuckled excitedly. You were satisfied, sated and sore in the most pure feeling of ecstasy.

Taking comfort in the silence, he calmly removed his blazer while still holding your body to his. He then enveloped you around the soft fabric, as well as in his arms once more, showering you with tender kisses under the warm glow of the light. The wetness of his lips against yours added to the sensuality of the moment, making you feel safe and cherished in his embrace.

The closet was as warm as Alex’s embrace, and you knew that you would definitely repeat this again in his presence, having already absorbed your lesson pretty well. "I can't wait to send you a vid of me doin' that while you're away," you chirped, feeling sure of yourself. What could you do? Alex was a great teacher.

...

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