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eldrith · 2 months

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˗ˏˋ your lips, my lips ˎˊ˗ Jacaerys Velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x fem!wife!reader words: 5.6k synopsis: you remind Jacaerys that there is no shame in accepting help, especially from his wife. notes: this idea came to me in a fever dream the other day idek. this can be read as an au, it is implied that the dance happened but that luke is alive so idk. as i always say: do what you love. i think jace can be happy for a bit, as a treat. this is honestly like 3k fluff and 2k smut lol. pls lmk what you think <3 warnings: canon-typical injury. jace is so horny and in love that he becomes a poet! light dirty talk(mostly in valyrian bc jace is shy), very very brief breeding kink, slightly sub!jace, praise kink (mutual), slight size kink, hair pulling, pussy whipped jace, PiV creampie, reader rides him. valyrian is translated at the end (author uses a translator so if its wrong im sorry). feedback is appreciated<3 requests open. masterlist.

SHADOWS DANCE.

Toes cold upon empty stone, you pad across a corridor; short, illuminated in torchlight. A path you’ve taken many times.

Worry twists your fingers together, toying as you watch the silhouette of your night shift swish upon the contours of the wall. Chamber doors which connect the small hall to your own are open; an afterthought, perhaps, though your husband quite often prefers to slumber with his door to yours drawn open.

He is hurting.

Not in any dire way, not by far. Burns, the whispers had reached your ears - from maester to house worker to ladies in wait - burns, across the Prince’s palms; some troubles while handling dragonfire. You have been alive for long enough to have seen dragons dance, see the flesh melt from bones of even those coursing with Valyrian blood in their veins. You cannot imagine the pain of it, lying marred in his palms.

The maester has seen worse, you are told. He is not in too much pain, to your relief - he is neither sick nor hurting but rather unable to perform any tasks, no matter how menial; something you know your husband will not take lightly. Only a few paces and you reach his chambers, taking in the sandalwood and cedar smoking in small dipped sticks; a favor of his mothers, he told you once. He’s taken to them recently, to the comforting scent; as have you.

Feet move slowly into the archway; his chambers are always so much warmer than your own. Furs, thicker - bed, more comfortable, hearth, drawn larger. Though it is more likely to do with the company.

Your husband stands before the mirror of his chambers, his back upon you.

You watch for a moment - his brows, furrowed in the reflection, a razor is held rather uncertainly in a bandaged grasp. A pang through your stomach at the sight of the gauze, restricting his fingers; a kind glow of candlelight dances across concentrated eyes, once-steady hands trembling as he holds the blade against his cheek, head tilted back.

Slow breaths - your chest moves with his, as it seems to do more and more these days; a drag of a blade, the wobbling of which sets your teeth upon edge. Such a mundane chore, shaving: yet you know just as most how painful the burns of dragons may be upon flesh.

Your sweet husband is a proud soul; you can almost picture him, resolutely dismissing any offers of assistance before he readied himself for the night. Struggling to wet the razor, to lift it upon his face, yet doing so with a bristling determination. You linger, a specter in the doorway, fingers tracing the stone arch beside you as he works. Slow, determined.

His chest rises and falls beneath the simple tunic; unlaced, revealing the glimpse of skin awaiting beneath as he clenches his jaw, metal dragging against porcelain.

Though as soon as you draw a breath, a hiss from him - the razor has slipped, blood thinning in a bloom upon his cheek. Stark against such pale skin. He curses softly, thick brows knitting in some helplessness as his wounded fingers, shaking in pain or perhaps frustration, brush and come away crimson.

You step forward immediately, concern overriding all hesitations and shyness you’d felt previously.

"Jacaerys," your voice, soft and scarcely a whisper, carries through the room. Through the mirror your husband looks up, his eyes meeting yours.

A whisper of surprise in his visage that melts into some shade of embarrassment as he turns to you. Your name, falling from his plush lips, bitten in previous exasperation. His voice is warm, guilty. "I did not wish to wake you."

You shake your head softly - he’d not made a single sound since you returned from your evening duties to retire. You learned of his injuries through scarce whispers in the corners of your chamber, not from any loud disruptions from within his own.

Ignoring his words, you move closer - feet light, heart aching for his felt helplessness; A crimson tear beads out of the thin cut upon the cut on his cheek. You tilt your head to look into the warmth of his eyes. "You should not be doing this with your injuries," you chide, nodding to the strips of bandage around his palms.

A sigh from him, gentle nod as he looks down upon your expression. "I did not wish to trouble anyone," you find a touch of frustration still coloring his voice, but are not foolish enough to believe an ounce of it could ever be directed towards you. "I am not so helpless." he prepends with a clenched jaw.

Nodding, you gently take the razor from his loose grip. "No, you are not.” You agree gently, “Sit.”

You guide him to the table aside the mirror with light hands. He murmurs your name; it slips through his lips like honey. "I do not wish to burden you. It is late, I would not want to keep you awake."

You cannot help the surge of affection; your husband, so doting, thoughtful. A gentle touch to his cheek, your fingers grazing just under the fresh cut as you swipe away the red. "Sleep can wait.” Your voice is just as gentle as his own. “And you are not a burden; You are my husband. Your troubles are mine."

He sighs, a small appreciative smile growing upon his lips. "I resent being unable to tend to myself." he admits sheepishly.

You run your hands gently over his palm, tracing gently over where gauze conceals marred flesh. “You must heal fully so you might be of aid again soon.” You pull away, crossing the room to retrieve the cloth, oils, and small bowl of water; “In the meantime, there is no shame in accepting help. Especially not from your wife."

His eyes follow you upon your return, your sleep gown swishing against the quiet of the apartments; aware of the semi-sheerness of the fabric, you feel yourself flush. His smile is appreciative.

The bowl makes a small noise as you place it upon the table - you watch the soft illumination of your reflection ripple in the water. “I am a lucky man.” He says, as if to himself; you resist the shy smile that grows upon your lips, looking away from the contents of the bowl and shaking your head gently. He does not seem prepared to leave it be, though: “I scarcely know how I came to deserve someone as wonderful as you.”

He prefers it like this, you’ve learned; kindness, candor, sweet admissions - flushed cheeks, soft smiles. A true marriage, one being built with respect, with love. And still, moons after your union - every compliment you pay your husband he seems to return tenfold.

It is content, quiet against the spitting of embers in the hearth as you bend before him, seeking an angle safe enough to press the blade to his skin. A soft conversation, scarcely more than whispers in the eve - though you become weary at the prospect of a safe approach.

His legs spread wide as he watches you pace - expression somewhere between an amusement and puzzle; You let out a breath in a small huff as you draw a decision.

Your hand falls first onto his shoulder - a steadying grip as you slowly slide onto his lap, positioning yourself to see his face clearly; Jacaerys, with eyes widened in surprise and arms instinctively rising to hold you steady. Despite his injuries, his touch is firm, wrists pressing to you where hands cannot.

A thick swallow within his throat that you steadfastly ignore.

The touch of his arms around you, of your thighs straddling his lap - you burn, clearing your throat. Your voice comes, barely more than a breath. "Is this- alright?"

His lips, parted with the proximity, flutter before he finds words. “Y-yes. More than alright.”

With a small grin, you school yourself; pouring the oils upon your palms, you begin to smooth the ointment upon his skin. Cheeks, down the short shadow of stubble he has so resigned to eliminate this evening. A sharp jaw, a strong chin, plush lips. His breath is scarcely more than puffs against your cheeks as you press gently into his jaw muscle; his eyelashes flutter closed.

When you bring the blade to his skin, it is with no hesitation he tilts his head for you; eyeing you through lids, the apple of his cheeks warm in the light. You release a short breath and begin to shave him with slow, careful strokes. Jacaerys remains still, his eyes fixed - you drag the blade with light pressure, a relief building in you as you begin to effectively remove shadows from his cheek.

As you continue, the room grows quiet; a soft song of the gentle scrape of the blade and the crackling of the fire. Your heart may have fluttered ceaselessly had you been any less focused on ensuring you do not hurt him; Though there is no doubt - a very handsome man he is, and a very lucky wife he makes you.

“How did you learn such a skill?” His voice, curious as you tilt his jaw slightly. You do not pull your eyes from your task as you hum gently, aware of his warm stare.

“I’ve never done it before,” you admit, tilting your head along with him, focused on the glide of the blade against the bristled shadow of his jaw. “Though I watched my lord father do it many times. He’d often have me sing to my younger brothers before they were put to chamber - he tended to perform tasks as such when I did so. They used to love watching him.”

Jace nods contentedly, humming at your recount. "Lucerys used to watch me when he was younger, as well.” It seems at the memory he laughs gently - the motion stunted as you hold his face in your grip. “One day he decided he was old enough to give it a try. He sneaked into my chambers and took up my razor."

You can't help but smile at the image, lifting a brow. "And what came of it?"

You sit back, preoccupied with the story - your hand wipes the blade upon the rag beside you, meeting his warm gaze as his grin widens. "I found him standing before the mirror, razor in hand.” A flicker of his gaze to the mirror behind you before he finds you once more. “I tried to warn him, but he was too stubborn to heed me. So, I stood back and simply watched."

Your eyes widen, lips parting in mild amusement. "You let him to do it alone?"

He chuckles lightly, tongue prodding his lower lip. "I thought it best he learn a lesson.” His arms unconsciously pull you closer, readjusting your position upon his lap. You swallow down the warmth at such casual intimacy between he and you. “He managed a few strokes, was quite proud of himself, until... he nicked his lip." A small gesture with his jaw towards your own, his eyes focused on the bottom lip that has found itself caught between your teeth.

You lift your brows, your hand pausing as it rinses the blade in water. "Was he quite hurt?"

"No, just a small cut," Jacaerys soothes, laughter bubbling up again, eyes tearing from your lips up to your own warm gaze; your stomach flutters at the sound and you can no longer suppress a small giggle of your own. "But the look on his face! He was so indignant, I reckon more in his failure than the pain. He turned to me, lip trembling, and demanded to know why I hadn't helped him."

You swat his shoulder gently with the rag, trying to suppress your own laughter. "You are incorrigible, Jace. You laugh at your brother's misfortune?" You chide, teasing; He shrugs, still grinning as his eyes trace over your face warmly.

"It was a valuable lesson, one I had to learn myself once. Besides, he forgave me soon enough. I helped him finish shaving properly and patched him up. We've laughed about it many times since." His voice is soft against the crackle of flame, adjusting his posture slightly under your weight.

You laugh gently, the image of a young Jace and Luke pulling a grin to your lips. "You two are quite the pair."

Jacaerys’ eyes soften as he hums in agreement. "I have to let him make a fool of himself now and then."

He’s taken to moving a stray thumb - one not restricted with salves nor gauze - upon the line of your spine. A gentle ghost of affection as you shake your head fondly at him.

You hum, resuming your efforts, now moving towards his chin with a gentle grasp. "Well, just be glad I am here to ensure you do not cut yourself again. I should not trust you alone with a razor any longer." You tease, wrinkling your nose as you fix him with a faux stern stare.

Jace’s laugh is rich, warm. "You wound me, wife.”

The gentle laughter between you trails off amiably as you move your focus upon his upper lip; you, dutifully focused, worried of your own skills, knowing you could very easily slip and cut him - he, enduring your hand around his chin, eyes ceaseless upon your face as you move him how you please.

You finish the last stroke, setting the blade aside; his eyes are pools; sunlit amber. The cloth is wettened - you string it out and gently press it to his skin, wiping away the remnants of shaving oil and the small trail of blood from his previous nick.

Jace’s breaths rise and fall languidly with your own in the quiet of the chamber. Your movements are slow, tender; your focus entirely on him, ignoring the heat growing in your abdomen, his muscles flexing beneath you. A shift in the calm of the room; a once placated, gentle silence has grown into a thick, tense quiet - enunciated through short puffs of breath and the slow shifting of your bodies as you clean him.

A lean closer, his finger idly trailing your hip as much as the bandage might permit - you inspect his soft skin, the scent of the oils clouding your mind; lavender, cedar, sandalwood. Incense sticks have lost ember in the corner, the ocean rolling in tides upon the distant shores. You find no missed stubble, only undeniable affection in his eyes; you’ve begun to trace the cloth rather idly along his cheek, eyes rising to find his own gaze stuck upon your lips. Echoes of a house attendant walking out in the halls.

“Done,” You whisper, making no effort to rise from his lap; the warmth that has only grown has begun to make you sweat, that desire, still so new, growing between you. He shifts beneath you, staring blatantly, speaking no words. Worry flickers - a foolish thing, to worry when you’re with him - yet you still murmur your words. "Have I overstepped?” you ask softly, gaze flickering down to his plush, parted lips, watching as he shakes his head vehemently.

"Never," he breathes, "I’m merely admiring your beauty."

Heat. Jacaerys has never, not even in the earliest days of your betrothal, hesitated to praise you for your beauty, intelligence, wit, or heart; yet it still sets your mind dizzy each time. You send him a coy smile, hiding the flush of your cheeks under his compliment, “You only say such things because of the blade in my hand,” You tease.

Expecting a retort from your sharp husband, your eyes flicker to his; he grins at your jest, whispering, “I would speak such words even if you held nothing but air.”

His gaze roves over the heat of your cheeks, the flutter of your lashes. Want grows hot within you; to be seen, to be so cherished, it is more than you could wish. Jacaerys stirs your heart like no other could. You do not miss when he leans forward slightly, into your own space; the longing in his gaze is rather unmistakable, and it sends a rush of thrill through you.

Heart, singing in your chest. “Jace.” you whisper.

He breathes your name in response; a prayer.

“What are you thinking?” You hum, your breath hitting his own; your hands fall to grasp his shoulders, fingers trailing over the crook of his neck, the ties of his tunic.

"I'm thinking," His hands, despite their bandages, pull your hips upon his own quite subtly - your stuttered breath, shaky at the feeling of him beneath you, arousal growing just as your own. His voice is husky, "-that I’d like to kiss you."

A thrill in your stomach; you purse your lips against a smile of affection before closing the distance, your lips meeting his.

Warm, soft; gentle as he always is with you - but soon in the undercurrent of the late hour, of the thin material upon your frame, you feel fever infect you.

It comes in a tilt, sliding your nose against his own, lust coiling between your thighs; any tension of before melts, soon replaced by an urgent need to be closer. Your tongue finds the plush of his lower lip, sliding hungrily.

He groans softly against your mouth, his injured hands pulling you tight; The faint smell of incense, an intensity of desire matching your own - your hands tangle in his hair.

A wince as you shift, his hand flexing and drawing a grunt of pain from his lips.

You pull back instantly.

"Jace," you murmur in concern, even as his lips chase your own, a small bridge of saliva between you two in the firelight. Your voice is breathless, filled with longing. "We shouldn't. Your hands."

He shakes his head, his lips seeking yours. "I care not," he whispers fiercely. "If you cease for my sake, I will perish."

Your eyes roll at his dramatics, though your heart flutters at such fervent words. The desire in his eyes is undeniable, and you are finding it harder to resist such pretty requests. "I do not wish to hurt you," you protest softly, though your resolve weakens with each passing moment.

He gazes at you with a mixture of tenderness and longing. “You could never hurt me. Please, let me feel you. The only pain I feel is the distance between us.”

Unbelievable, his cunning knack for dramatics.

Despite the lifted brow you send him, there is an undeniable tremor within you, your hunger growing at the lilt of his tone. Perhaps, you should feel some kind of shyness; Indeed, you’re still learning of each other. You’ve lain with Jacaerys only a few times since being wed last moon—and yet perched so firmly atop his growing arousal, you can’t help the rush of need.

“Well,” You sigh, hand gracing his soft cheek with a small look of pride, “You mustn’t beg.”

He breathes as a smirk of his own grows, “I am a prince, dōna riña. Begging is beneath me.” He murmurs, eyes aflame with that teasing craving, “but I'd gladly beg if it means I get to have you.”

His ravenous words, mere kindle to the flame. “It is fortunate for you that I am so generous, then,” you murmur, seeking the warmth of his lips once more. He hums in agreement; a reverberation in his chest below your palms stirring a shiver through you. “Fortunate indeed,” he breathes. “Now please do not torture me any longer.”

You pull away from his searching lips just so, watching as he chases the warmth of your breath. "If you insist," you whisper, your lips brushing against his. His breath is sharp - he dislikes being so teased when he cannot deliver it in return. "I do insist.” he murmurs, words swallowed by the surge of him, teeth and noses clashing as you exhale, stomach flipping.

His tongue, sliding into your mouth; eager, you part lips for him. The chamber fades into shadows, a dim glow as the witness to your ardor, the only thing to hear such soft sighs and groans from you and Jacaerys. His lips leave you rather soon, peppering kisses upon the flushed skin of your neck.

A glance behind his shoulder as you cast your neck to the side - flickering shadows, intertwined with each other in a rather sensual embrace upon the wall; Jace’s nose pressed to the heartbeat of your throat as he bites gently against your skin.

His lips are fervent - the warmth of his breath, his chest heaving below your palms, the scent of his shaving oils - a fierce wildfire within you, consuming every thought but the touch of his body against your own.

An urge, the light pressure of his wrists, desperate to move you upon him - and then his voice, a growl. "Feel me," he breathes against your throat, pulling back so slightly to catch your gaze as his hands, light but insistent, press upon your waist.

You respond to his urging without a thought; your hips instinctively shifting, meeting the rise of his form with an eager press. The sensation is both thrilling and intoxicating - his moan of pleasure only spurs you on, a shiver of ecstasy as you press just so upon the sensitive of your heat.

The space between you is gone, the touch of his hands guiding your movements lightly, encouraging your slow rolling hips. The air is thick with the mingled scents of desire and embers low - you, lost in a sea of sensation. His breaths grow ragged, the intensity of his gaze never wavering as he watches you with a look of utter devotion. "Yes," he murmurs, his voice nearly breaking, "-like that, gods - let me feel every bit of you."

At such words, your cheeks heat vividly - you surrender to the heat of the moment, your movements growing more urgent, more desperate. His breaths are hot against your cheek as you let out a small moan, toes curling as you rove your hips, chasing the heat of pleasure.

Your movements become more frantic with each passing moment, the need to be close to him overwhelming your senses. His heart, beating as wild as a beast against your own chest; Your head grows dizzy with need, a small noise from the back of your throat as his wrists coax your hips against him.

“Jace,” Your breath comes in puffs, cheeks hot with the incessant need to feel him within you. “I need you.”

He hums against your mouth, tantalizing as he tilts his head, “I had not noticed.”

So cocky; you sigh, hips ceasing slightly, hands trailing over the fabric of his night shirt, feeling the warmth of his lean muscles beneath your palms. “You tease me.” You pout; he kisses the expression away with a small grin. You insist in the absence of a response, “You are cruel, to make it so hard for me to remain composed.” His arms pull you by the small of your back in an embrace - shivers over you as you feel his hard arousal drag along the heat of your aching cunt between too many layers of clothing.

“I would have you mad with desire, if it means knowing you are as consumed by me as I am by you.” He mutters into the shell of your ear. Your cheeks, constantly heating under his words, so effortlessly setting you afire.

You pull back enough to trail your lips over his jaw, dropping to press a soft bite upon the skin of his neck; savoring the soft noise, near whimper, from his lips. “You speak as though you haven’t already driven me mad,” You murmur into his skin, “Though I pay it willingly; I would have it no other way.”

To wait any longer would be torture; your hands, hungry and insistent, begin to gather the skirt of your sleep gown - Jace, watching with desire burning heavy in his eyes, hands lying uselessly - the glint of frustration in his gaze is not missed; though you know he wishes to touch you, you revel in the scarce opportunity to take care of him as he does you.

A soft smile plays upon your lips as you look into his fervent eyes, feeling the heat of his desire merge with your own; Slipping beneath his trousers, you let your fingers graze his skin just enough to drive him wild; deliberate, as slow as his own fingers often are when he finds himself between your thighs.

His cock is heavy upon your palm; your thighs, trembling with need as you place a few languid pumps upon him. His head, falling back, hands unable to truly grasp your hips - a groan, uninhibited as his brows knit together. “You’re a vision, my love.”

The endearment sends your hips in a short buck - grinding upon his cock, your arousal finds his own; a choked moan from yourself, falling forward to his chest. Laborious sliding of your hips over his own, spreading your need and coating his cock with your desire. Fingers, twitching against your spine - your own threading through his hair. Breaths together, short huffs and unsteady inhales as you finally guide yourself to the tip of his cock.

“Are you-” His swallow is thick, “Are you sure, love?” He has the gall to question you after such excruciating a wait - though as you stare into his eyes, a flicker, a fleeting observation; He has always taken more than enough time to prepare you to take him; it is no lie that he is rather blessed by the Father - Such memories heat your cheeks. And though you know it may sting, it does not matter to you; You would certainly welcome the sensation. You stir your hips, biting back a noise at the jolt of your sensitive clit against his cock. “Yes, Jace. And you?” You question. An insistent nod, a short groan - "Gods, yes- stop teasing me," he near whines. You conceal a small chuckle of amusement, pressing your lips soundly against him.

And you sink onto him slowly, eyes screwing shut at the sensation - he, with a low groan, head lolling back to expose the long stretch of his neck. A sharp exhale as you lower yourself, heart slamming as you’re filled; a sating desire within you, growing as you find yourself adjusting to him.

When you find yourself fully speared upon your husband, you let out a shuttering whimper; his fingers twitch where they lie, pupils blown wide as he gazes upon you. Your lips find his once more in hunger, whispers of moans swallowed, tongue warm as it slides into his mouth. He tastes of the anise candies he favors; a hint of wine, cherry and dark.

He remains, hips static as you breathe through the sensation of being full of him. His lips are fervent, though any wild need to feel you around him tamped momentarily by his concern for your own comfort and pleasure.

A distant rove of waves upon a shoreline; the memory of Jacaerys, flushed and wide-eyed the first time you shared his bed. You slowly grow accustomed to his size, the hunger boiling within you as you slowly shift, growing restless.

And slowly, experimentally - Jacaerys’ hips push slightly up against yours. You stir at the sensation, his cock pressing a spot deep within you - a keening gasp against him, swallowing his short moan with your lips. A slow lift of your hips, feeling him press against you - your eyes flutter shut once more as a flooding of pleasure courses through you, liquid fire within your veins.

“Gods, my love-” He nearly chokes, “J-just like that-”

Your small gasp as you begin to rock against his pelvis, cock stirring and pressing deliciously against the deepest part of you; upon shaky legs you rise, gently allowing his cock to drag out of your hungered cunt. “Jace,” Your voice is whiny, breathless - unsure what you plan on saying otherwise, your hands slide into the curly locks, tugging gently. He is rendered unable to speak, mouth open before moving to lick the slight salt from your skin.

A flush has grown upon your chest; your husband’s lips have found your breasts, peppering bites and lingering upon a spot just under your neckline, his groans reverberating within your skin. Steadying yourself upon him, you find a rhythm - his cock reaching the deepest parts of you, your head tilting back in true satisfaction, a heat coiling within your gut.

And his lips, ceasing only when your fingers tug at his curls; a curve in his own spine, head falling back against the back of the chair with a groan of pleasure. Heat curls and coils, lit afire by Jacaerys and the feeling of him reaching deep within you.

“Jace, you’re so deep-” You whisper, toes curling with the sounds of your shared desire echoing in the chamber softly. He lets out a small noise at your words, a smattering of pink across his cheeks; cock twitching with desire within you.

The hunger calls you. Without further consideration, you snake a hand between you, down to the heat of your cunt taking him, fingers shaking as you seek your yearning bundle of nerves; His eyes, lidded as he watches you. Jacaerys, in his endless pursuit to ensure your pleasures, has always provided his fingers or tongue to bring you closer to finish - though with him injured below you, you do not mind picking up such slack yourself.

Especially when it brings such deeply melodic sounds of need to his lips. Despite his arousal at your actions, your hand shies away - knowing whatever extension of pleasure you wish to give yourself will be no match for how he so often touches you. Your grip rises instead to steady yourself upon his shoulders, spearing yourself onto him in languid thrusts, ecstasy climbing within you like the wild of fire.

“Look at you, ābrazȳrys.” He mutters, pupils blown in pleasure, hips canting to meet yours. Though you speak not the language, you are familiar with such a word: wife. A shudder of pleasure at his ancient tongue - of which he has whispered many words to you, most unknown.

He, the picture of the gods below you, letting out a sharp exhale in his own pleasure. His lips, slick and bright, mutter your name - at the summon your gaze finds his own, molten and hungry as your hips move together, the feeling of his cock twitching within you, reaching a spot that has your back keening.

“I’m c-close.” He whispers, a heat upon his cheeks - embarrassment, perhaps, at his eagerness. His eyes find you; you’re met with that dark gaze, regally commanding as he speaks. “Gaomagon ziry. Touch yourself, love, I want to feel you.”

Gods save you.

Just as your husband wishes, you drop your fingers once more with no hesitation, jolting. You do not slow your pace; thighs burning, you keen forward, whispering his name against the pulse of his throat, groaning as your fingers press further, tight circles that bring shudders of pleasure.

“Jaesa, so pretty. Renigon aōla.” Jacaerys’ brows, knitted upwards in gratification; voice, leaking of desperation, of some kind of adulation. He quite often slips into that frantic tongue - the rush of pleasure, of ecstasy, his sharp mind rendered unable to decipher the common from the ancient tongue. You do not know the delicious words that fall from his lips, yet it does not matter - they spur you closer still towards completion.

“Jace, I’m close,” You hiss, teeth clenched in desire; your hips, dropping upon him slower, deeper; his arms pull you closer with a groan, lips falling to nip small marks into the smooth of your neck. A moan, unbidden from his sweet lips, “Do not stop, please-” he wishes, and who are you to deny such pretty begging?

When you hit your high of ecstasy, it is with a muffled moan of his name; into the thin linen of his tunic, legs slowing as you roll through pleasure, spasming gently around your husband. His own, quiet moan into your hair, wrists pulling you into him as he whispers, “Yes, ñuha sȳz byka ābrazȳrys, fuck-”

A thrill within you as you ride your high, such vulgar of a word from your husband; and all, your doing. A frantic whimper from your lips into his throat as he bucks his hips up into you, chasing his own high with a soft whimper. “You feel so good, Jacaerys.” You keen, raising to his face as you feel his abdominal muscles tense beneath you; pressing your forehead to his own, you ride through your completion, heavy breaths upon each other.

Noses sliding against his, you drink his small groans, holding him close; a ghost of his lips against yours, a nip of your lip by his teeth. Long lashes fluttering, Jace finds his own high. He releases his seed into you; you feel him, his hips thrusting up into you weakly as the warmth of him spreads within you. His breath, hot against your cheek, lips chasing yours as you pull away slightly, the slight shift in position sending you both in a harmony of whimpers at the sensitivity.

The chamber’s hearth spits and crackles; an ember lands near the floor beside the chair. It smolders out, fading slowly into darkness against the stone as you rest your cheek against Jacaerys’ chest, pleased by his gentle kisses upon your hairline.

After moments of silence, basking in your shared pleasure, you press a kiss to his chest. “Are you alright?” He asks gently, soothing over your spine with the soft of his forearms.

You let out a shaky sigh of satisfaction as you pull back, feeling his cock within you - a fleeting thought; you hope his seed takes. He watches you, eyes warm and gentle as a shaky finger, curled in pain, wipes a stray strand of hair from your forehead - you nod, lifting your hand thumb away the bead of blood that has appeared once more on his cheek; “Yes. And you?” You wonder, pressing a kiss to the freckle upon his lip.

His smile is the kind that makes your heart skip beats. “Always.”

translations; dōna riña - sweet girl

ābrazȳrys - wife

Gaomagon ziry - do it

Jaesa - goddess, holy/divine woman

Renigon aōla - touch yourself

ñuha sȳz byka ābrazȳrys - my good little wife

taglist: @bitchydragonparadisee @lukehughes43 @rhea-ripley @jottositto @chloe-petrichors @elaena-aerrin @smurfelle @greenvita @alyssa-dayne

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #jacaerys x reader smut #jacaerys x reader #jace x reader #jace imagine #jace smut #jace fanfic #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys smut #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd smut

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coyote-bites · 1 year

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Just got 2 blazed posts that was just porn in a ROW!!!

Like I know, I signed up too seeing prn randomly on my dash. I know what I did by turning off mature filters, and I embrace it. But fed it by Tumblr itself???? Especically when its force-feeding fukin kink shit

Do they not realize the power porn bots will have once they realise they can just pay 8 dollars to spam ppl with porn and scam links

#btw im very pro kink no kink shaming here. but like. I dont wanna see that lol #nsft #ya ill tag it that #coyote barks

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ivymarquis · 6 months

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The Neighbor

Hello friends I fucked off for a month but I’m back and I bring Price smut as an apology for my absence. @sky-is-the-limit’s “Im here to do what your boyfriend cant” prompt has lived in my brain rent free ecer since I read it and while I didn’t follow it verbatim, I did keep in spirit with the theme :)

Also womp I was gone for the Price challenge by @glitterypirateduck but this actually checks off a couple of the prompt options (first time being intimate, a confession/secret is discovered/revealed) so I’m submitting it.

There are a lot of tags. Make sure you read them.

Pairing| John Price x Reader Rating| M Word Count| 4.8k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Accidental voyuerism by virtue of living in an apartment, the reader has a dogshit boyfriend at the beginning of the fic (there is no cheating), slut shaming (from the dogshit boyfriend), these two idiots are down bad for each other, sex toys, oral (F!receiving), unprotected PiV, gratuitous squirting because I’m me, not really heavy on BDSM elements but mentions of the following: bondage/restraints (John uses his hands, nothing crazy), something akin to subspace from how good the nut is, aftercare, John is a prick to the now-ex, very brief angst due to a quick misunderstanding, very vaguely implied somnophilia, rampant abuse of italics. Lemme know if I missed anything.

His neighbor is clearly used to Price being deployed.

She’s a sweet thing, really, and on the whole isn’t that disagreeable of a neighbor.

He just has one problem with her (not even her, really) that is a thorn in his fucking side- her boyfriend.

The boyfriend was not an issue when they first met- wasn’t in the picture at all.

And no John most assuredly hasn’t had it out for the guy since Day 1. The fact that John had gathered himself up to ask his pretty neighbor out when he came back from his latest mission, only to find out about the new boyfriend, does not color his impression of the other man. He’s grown and this is not the first time his advances have been turned away for whatever reason.

But there are, to his knowledge, no true redeeming qualities about the man and he is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.

He catches bits and pieces through the walls. The boyfriend is not attentive, caring, or sweet to her. She is treated as a guest in her own home, and twice he’s heard bellowing shouts that had Price at the door with his fist banging against it- both to shut him up and make it exceptionally well known that if the boyfriend thinks intimidating a woman is going to fly, that Price will not hesitate to kick the door in.

The most appalling part of it all is that John has a front row seat to just how atrocious he is in bed.

For the life of him John does not understand. It’s not even like the lad’s a good lay.

He’s heard many stories of women tolerating absolutely atrocious behavior from the muppets they were with because he knew how to make them see stars.

That is exceptionally not the case here. And John is rapidly finding his patience wearing thin at continually being subjugated to his pathetic performance.

So what the hell is it about the boyfriend that keeps his neighbor so enamored with him?

John stares at the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan turn as he tries to tune out the thumping of the headboard against the wall.

He thinks that if the man was just a bad lay and completely incapable of getting her anywhere, that would be one thing and John would continue to be frustrated but ultimately understand. But it’s the way he seems to actively ruin it anytime she has the audacity to enjoy having sex with him that truly grates on John’s nerves.

It’s not often, but even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then. The thumping of the headboard is accompanied by her sweet voice moaning lowly in short staccato notes as the boyfriend appears to finally be doing something right.

The thumping comes to a halt, and John groans in frustration.

“Why’d you stop?” He can hear his pretty neighbor lament through the thin walls.

“Why the fuck are you being so loud? Trying to give the neighbor a show?”

John squints his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The fucking muppet can’t do anything right.

If the neighbor was his, John wouldn’t give a fuck who heard. Let all the neighbors know that he could fuck the sense clear out of her pretty little head. John could show the muppet what loud is.

“No! I’m not trying to do anything- it just felt good,” she defends herself.

“Well, be quieter about it, no one needs to hear that. You sound like a whore,” the muppet snaps at her irritably, and John is nearly at his fucking limit when the god damn headboard starts to thump against the wall again.

“Get out.”

Oh.

John is impressed- pleasure and pride coursing through him as his sweet neighbor stands up for herself rather than letting that ungrateful swine continue to berate her.

Good fucking girl.

“What did you just say?” The thumping stops.

“You don’t get to call me names. Get off of me and get out.”

For all his sins, it seems even the muppet has a line he’s not willing to cross.

There’s a shifting as he presumably pulls out and gets off the bed- the words are muffled but the tone is clear. The muppet isn’t above laying into her verbally though consent is (smartly) a line he won’t toe.

And good thinking on his part- John would probably tear through the drywall and turn him into a chew toy had that conversation gone in any other direction.

The door slams loudly, announcing the boyfriend’s departure.

John can’t help but keep his attention on his neighbor to see what her reaction is going to be. It is taking every ounce of self control he has to not follow the boyfriend and wring his neck in the parking lot.

There’s no conventional guide for how to address this situation with your neighbor. ‘Hello, I’ve fancied you for quite some time and that ungrateful prick somehow swept you up before I got the nerve to ask you out. I've had to hear you have the most lackluster sex ever for the past several months, and equal parts want to check in on how you’re doing emotionally after his latest stunt, and also want to bend you over and pin you to the mattress until you’re squealing. May I come in?’

He can’t say he is too surprised to hear things slamming about in the apartment- his pretty neighbor sounding more pissed off than upset, catching snippets of “Who the fuck does he think he is, talking to me like that” and “Motherfucker couldn’t find my clit with a map and a headlamp but can find the audacity to call me names-”

Okay, John has to fight back the urge to laugh at that last one lest she hear him. She’s quite the viper when (finally) provoked, and it just endears her more to him.

She doesn’t appear particularly distraught, the slamming and huffing and muttering concluding with her tossing herself on the bed.

It’s a very common occurrence that after the neighbor’s rendezvous with her lazy boyfriend, John is treated to a show where she finishes herself off with her toys.

The boyfriend, like many inadequate men, is threatened by them and John has heard the snide remarks.

Hilarious, he finds it, that a man incapable of getting her off is so adamant that she gets rid of them.

She hasn’t listened, clearly, as the low sound of her vibrator can be heard through the wall.

John is soon graced with the sound of her panting moans. His cock stiffens in interest at her voice, which is a frequent occurrence. She makes such pretty noises, mewling and whimpering as she works herself up.

Tonight is a whirlwind of emotions for his pretty neighbor, and at the end of the day her no-good boyfriend left her high and dry.

John will gladly enjoy the consequences of the boyfriend’s actions, one hand wrapping around his cock and beginning to stroke in time with her whines.

What he wouldn’t give for a chance to make her see stars. He’d be so good to her.

The reality of his job makes dating a logistical nightmare, part of what stayed his hand for so long.

He’s not blind. His neighbor is kind and sweet with a killer smile and wandering eyes. He’s caught her more than once ogling him when he’s returned home in uniform, or more nondescript tactical clothing.

Feeling her gaze on him always makes him puff up with pride, enjoying holding her attention no matter how fleeting. If he takes his time after a run and makes a point to pull the hem of his shirt up to wipe at his brow where she can see it, that’s his business.

So John thinks he’s dreaming when he hears that lovely voice whimper his name from the other side of the wall.

He stiffens, quietly waiting to see if he hears it again.

“John- Oh, fuck- please,” is all he needs to hear before he’s well and truly lost any semblance of patience.

Only having the presence of mind to dress himself enough to not warrant any errant looks from the other neighbors, he is at her door in a second.

It’s only after he knocks that he realizes he may well have killed whatever momentum she’s built for herself- given her muttering as she approaches the door- but he fully intends to make up for the stolen release.

She opens the door without looking through the peephole, obviously expecting it to be the ex based on the vitriol poised to spill at John’s chest, approximately eye level with where the (hopefully ex) boyfriend would be.

Once again he has to stifle a laugh, finding her a comical vision when the anger on her face melts away as her eyes flick up to his face with the realization that it is him at the door and not the object of her ire.

“What are you doing here, John?” Christ, he’s always been a sucker for pretty doe eyes. If he held even an ounce less of restraint he’d be mounting her right here for everyone to see.

“I’m here to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

Even as he reaches out to pull her in for a kiss, he’s watching her body language- gauging if she stiffens or shifts away.

She doesn’t.

In fact, her arms loop behind him and pull him closer, tugging on his hair and his shirt.

John’s not wasting any more time than he already has, walking her backwards into the apartment and shutting the door with his foot before reaching back to lock it- he’s got no desire for any interruptions from wayward former boyfriends.

They separate for a moment as she paws at the hem of his shirt, clearly wanting it off of him. John is all too happy to oblige, preening under her attention. He’s always had the stockier build of a man who’s fitness came from utility in the field, opposed to the hard defined abs of someone who spends most of their time in the gym.

It’s cute, the way she has to pry her eyes up to his face- clearly liking what she sees and flustered by the fact that John can see her staring.

“I broke up with him,” she clarifies.

“Good,” is his simplistic response, although if John’s being honest with himself he doesn’t really care about the finer details. The little prick never deserved to have her and John finally has his chance to prove himself worthy.

“The bedroom’s this way,” she prompts between kisses.

Their clothes are peeled off in turns as they stumble towards the room. The layout is inverted to John’s own flat nextdoor, so despite having never stepped foot inside before he guides her to keep her from crashing into something behind her.

By the time they are collapsing against her bed, they’re stripped of everything except a scant thong on her and his own boxers.

She’s just so delightfully soft in his grip, John can’t keep his hands or his mouth off of her.

The feeling is reciprocated as she pushes up off the bed to grind against him. As much as he’s relishing in them dry humping and making out like teenagers, he’s wanted her for so long and now that she’s finally willing and pliant underneath him, he’s itching for a taste of her.

Kissing his way down her body- starting at her jaw, the column of her neck, across her collar bone, down her sternum; latching onto each nipple and teasing them to hardened peaks before continuing his path down.

He’s compelled by the urge to turn her into a chew toy as he reaches her belly, although he stifles that urge and keeps his teeth to himself.

He can’t quite resist giving a small nip as she squirms, clearly excited by the implication of where he’s heading.

There’s a damp spot on her underwear already as he kisses along the waistband while his hands tease with the elastic on either side of her hips.

The sound of her breath hitching in anticipation makes him smirk, attention drifting further south.

The fabric is in his way as he presses a kiss against her clothed cunt, gripping handfuls of her hips to keep her still as she bucks in his grasp.

“Easy, sweetheart- we’ve got all night,” he soothes before moving his attention up one thigh to the backside of her knee.

Those sweet thighs are splayed open for him, giving John unfettered access as he continues to tease.

“When’s this sweet cunt been eaten last, hm?”

He knows he’s heard her give that undeserving muppet head, but can’t recall any reciprocation occuring. There’s not much that can shock John at this point in his life, and he’s willing to roll the dice by dragging up her now-ex because he knows this poor thing hasn’t been eaten until she’s begging him off in ages.

“I couldn’t even begin to tell you,” she answers breathlessly, anticipating having her thighs twitching in his hold.

Out of the corner of his eye, John spies a torn condom wrapper that didn’t quite make it into the bin. Well that keeps him from having to ask two questions, then. Smart girl.

“What a shame,” he tsks lightly, peppering kisses back up and down her thigh.

Deciding that she’s waited long enough and he’s had his fun being a tease, John is quick to remove the scant lace and pull it off of her legs before tossing it to who-knows-where.

The sounds she makes as he makes a meal out of her is music to his ears. Each hitched moan and breathy whimper makes him stiffen in interest.

His attention shifts to focus on her clit, tongue circling the sensitive nub as his hands hold her hips in place.

As focused as he is on what’s right in front of him, it takes a moment for John to realize that she’s stifling her noises. One hand is fisting the sheets beneath her while the other is clamped across her lips.

Well. That simply won’t do.

The ex may have trained and shamed her into silence, but John didn’t make it as a military captain without learning how to break someone else’s bad habits.

He ignores her whimper of protest as he stops, one hand abandoning the softness of her hip in favor of grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away from her mouth.

“None of that,” he admonishes gently, pressing a kiss to one thigh. “Let me hear you.”

“I-I’m too loud,” she protests and for a split second John sees red.

To his credit, he does not leave her wet and leaking on the bed to go bludgeon her ex to death with a blunt object.

“No such thing, sweetheart,” he soothes before having a thought to tease her. “Who are you worried is going to hear you?” He asks kindly, a shit eating grin as he speaks again, “the neighbor?”

Her wide eyed expression is thoroughly scandalized and John can’t fight the chuckle that escapes him.

He hasn’t released her wrist yet, deciding that it’s time to get back to his meal. If she abandons gripping the sheet with her free hand to cover her mouth again, he simply plans to hold both of her wrists.

It’s tentative at first, still not entirely trusting John at his word that he wants to hear her.

But John is all for positive reinforcement as a motivator, crooking his fingers to stroke that one spot that makes her see stars to encourage more from her.

She’s a quick study, although when she releases the sheet John is watching her like a hawk.

Rather than clasping over her mouth again, John is pleased when her fingers end up burying in his hair.

More than happy to let her guide him, John takes his cues from how she pulls at his hair. The feel of her thighs twitching as she breathes in staccato breaths is all the reward he needs.

“You’re getting close,” he says against her cunt, pointing out the obvious before getting back to work. She’s anxious, he thinks, the closer she gets to her climax. Poor girl doesn’t know what to do with herself with an orgasm she hasn’t had to put all the work into.

“D-don’t stop,” she stammers, rewarded immediately with John redoubling his efforts.

He’s not going to stop. Pretty thing like her deserves nothing less than laying on her back and enjoying getting her cunt eaten out.

“O-oh fuck,” is his only warning before she’s gushing on his face and John is like a kid on Christmas morning.

He doesn’t even know if she realizes she’s squirted, too caught up in the pleasure of her high.

He’s always thought it was hot- now that he knows his pretty neighbor is a squirter he is more than willing to get on his knees and pray to whoever is listening that this isn’t a one time event. He’ll do anything to get her to keep him.

Even as her high fades he doesn’t let up on her, continuing to work his middle and ring finger inside of her. All he wants is to see her cum- wants to see those eyes roll as she squeezes them shut in anticipation.

Despite pulling his face away from her wet pussy, he doesn’t leave her clit unattended for long before his thumb is gently circling in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

Kissing his way back up her body, John can’t help but be pleased as she pulls him in to make out with him. Snatched gasps and bucks of her hips grace his ears as he works her from orgasm to the next, the wet sound of his palm slapping against her.

“John Im gonna cum again,” she whimpers in warning.

He feels like a god with the way she stares up at him reverently, eyes wide and desperate for another climax.

“Come on,” he goads, “Show me- let me see your face when you cum.”

Christ if her leg twitches any harder it’s going to start vibrating, serving to only encourage him.

“O-oh,” she mewls, “God- don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t-“ she’s pleading with him like he wouldn’t sit at her feet if she asked him to.

The bewildered look on her face is darling, and John nearly finishes untouched; he's so wound up it’s not going to take much.

A few choice thoughts keep his own eminent climax at bay and buys him enough breathing room. She bucks and trembles in his hold, a high pitched squeal escaping her as he proves not only can he make her cum twice, but he can make her squirt like a faucet twice.

As soon as she’s starting to come down from her high she’s pulling at him, drawing up her knees to spread her legs in invitation.

“Greedy girl,” he teases as he kisses her- wet fingers abandoning her cunt in favor of manhandling her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he positions himself.

“Please, please, please-“ she begs so prettily for him, pleading for him to do exactly what he’s been fantasizing about for months.

He’s not a small man and mindful of that fact, but she’s well prepped and takes him easily. The desperate whimper that escapes her sears into John’s memory.

The buildup of everything finally gets to him as he wastes no time setting a steady pace.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Let me hear you,” he encourages as she cants her hips in time with his, whines of pleasure escaping her on each thrust.

“John, please,” she begs, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure as she watches where they’re joined.

“Eyes up here,” he instructs and Christ he almost loses it when her gaze flicks from between their bodies up to his face.

His hands find hers, fingers lacing together as he lowers his torso in order to kiss the ethereal creature underneath him.

She whimpers into his mouth, her sounds only encouraging John.

Everything about her is warm and inviting, from her soft skin to her warm cunt and the way she sings for him at every thrust.

Maneuvering them so he can grip both her wrists with one of his hands, the other immediately dives between their bodies to find her clit again.

His pretty neighbor has spent months not having an orgasm she didn’t give herself, and John is determined to prove to her that he can give her as many as she can handle.

“John I can’t cum again,” she pleads even as her thighs shake on either side of him.

“Yes you can,” he assures her. “One more time for me, yeah?”

Now, should she insist she’s done and satisfied then John would leave her clit alone and finish up their fun. As it is, though, she nods in acquiescence before the trembling in her thighs increases.

“Good girl,” he praises, fingers continuing their steady pace around her clit as she creeps closer to the edge.

She’s babbling in his ear as he presses a kiss to her temple and he knows she’s almost there.

“Good girl,” he praises again, a cocksure grin pulling at the corners of his lips at her immediate response.

“My good girl,” he ups the ante, testing her response to John staking a claim on her. And God did it ever work. That last little bit is all it takes to finally tip her over.

She clenches down on him like a vice and John immediately loses it, groaning low as the haze of his orgasm washes over him.

It’s everything he wants- she’s everything he wants as he recovers enough from his climax to finally notice that the bed is an utter mess beneath them.

It’s not his immediate concern however, more interested in soothing her through the come down of her high. She’s shivering underneath him, eyes glossy from the intensity of her last orgasm.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs reassuringly. “Just breathe for me.”

He gathers her up in his arms, listening as her heartbeat relaxes in time with his own.

Eventually when enough time passes she’s more alert and happily snuggling against his chest. After giving her a chance to rest he herds her along to the bathroom so she doesn’t give herself a UTI. She tries to brush him off but her legs are taking their sweet time cooperating again.

Of course, she’s not exactly a recruit taking a piss test so he gives her her privacy and she’s able to return on her own albeit on shaky legs.

John pets at her head idly, attention drifting in post coital bliss as his hand strokes down along her back.

“I can’t believe you’re actually in my bed,” she giggles deliriously after a stretch of quiet.

“Only reason I wasn’t here sooner was because of that muppet,” he assures her. He doesn’t want her thinking that this is a one time thing for him. He’s wanted her for so long he can’t possibly be expected to turn her loose at the end of the night.

“I only dated him because I didn’t think you liked me,” she scoffs at herself.

“Oh, it was nearly the first moment I laid eyes on you. But with my work I kept talking myself out of doing anything,” he tells her. “Kept telling myself you deserve better. And then you brought the muppet home and kept him around,” John grouses good naturedly at her. “Think they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

“I plead temporary insanity,” she jokes, snuggling closer against his chest. “But I got rid of him. And you finally made your move.”

He hums in agreement, sleep pulling at him now that he has her tucked up against his side.

John doesn’t remember falling asleep but he wakes with a jolt to the sound of pounding on her door.

He’s only been out for an hour or so when he checks the clock on the nightstand, his neighbor sprawled out next to him.

Well, now he knows she snores. The sound is light enough to have never heard it through the wall, but curled up next to him she’s like a cat purring loudly in his ear.

And he’s exceptionally pissed right off at the fact someone has woken him up. Especially considering he has one guess who it is.

He fully debates answering the door buck ass naked to teach the prick a lesson about banging on doors after midnight but settles on tossing his joggers on.

Much like when she opened the door for John, the ex is automatically trained at where her head would be rather than looking at John’s face.

“My eyes are here,” he quips sarcastically. “Why the fuck are you banging on the door this late.”

“Why th-“ the ex starts to parrot back before cutting himself off. “Why the fuck are you in her apartment? Why isn’t she answering?”

“She’s asleep,” John answers simply. There’s no obligation to explain the why and how he ended up in her apartment.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s asleep? How is she asleep after she just dumped me? And why the fuck are you here?”

The boyfriend (the ex boyfriend, he thinks with glee) is either oblivious or…

Well. The ex boyfriend is oblivious. Let’s just keep it at that.

“I’m here because you can’t do your job right. She’s asleep because I can. What part of that is confusing?”

“That stupid slag’s been fucking you behind my back-“

“No.” John is somewhat mindful of not giving a full on “screaming at recruits” bellow, but his voice booms into the corridor outside the apartment anyway. “You watch your fucking mouth. This” John gestures vaguely at his own presence in her flat, “just happened after she dumped you. You don’t get to hurl insults.”

“She hopped off of my cock and straight to yours- what the fuck else is it?”

“You couldn’t get her off,” John hisses in annoyance. “I’ve had front row seats to your shitty little performance more than once. Not 5 minutes after you leave and she’s having to handle it herself.”

“I can’t be expected to compete with a fucking vibrator!”

“Well I sure as shit didn’t need one to get the job done. Poor girl could barely get her legs to work to go to the loo and not give herself a UTI. Your skill issues are what started all of this.”

“You know what? Fucking have her. I don’t need this shit.”

Ah yes, because John needs the ex’s permission to date a newly single woman. Absolutely. That’s entirely how that works.

“Never needed your blessing. Now fuck off. I’m trying to sleep.”

The ex responds with a two finger salute as he spins on his heel and storms off.

John is almost tempted to grab him by the back of his neck and turn him into a chew toy. Given his military career, his patience for muppets giving him attitude is virtually nonexistent.

But the siren call of his pretty neighbor is a stronger pull than the muppet can ever hope to achieve. John’s succeeded in his mission to run the prick off, and he’s going to try to get a few more hours of sleep before seeing if she’s interested in another romp in the morning when she wakes up.

The bedroom is dark and poorly lit but John immediately picks up on the silence.

Rather than being sprawled out and snoring like when he left her, she’s quiet and curled into a ball.

She’s awake.

“Sweetheart?” He calls softly.

She jolts, fabric rustling from the sheets falling off her as she sits up.

“You’re still here,” the surprise in her tone cuts, although he knows she didn’t mean for it to.

She seems to realize how that comes across and clarifies further, “I- I heard the door shut.”

It falls into place for him then- she woke up to the sound of the door and John nowhere to be found. She thought he’d left.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he consoles, making his way back to the bed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he assures her while gathering her back into his arms.

Sleep comes back readily once the two of them are situated back in the bed.

Come morning, John’s got the patience and the presence of mind to throw a towel on the bed. He finds out for himself that his neighbor makes the prettiest noises with her arse propped up in the air and her face still buried in her pillow.

He can’t help but laugh later when she texts him that one of the neighbors made a noise complaint.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

#ocaptainchallenge #john price x reader #captain john price #price x reader #cod x reader #x reader #implied plus size reader #take a shot every time john calls the reader pretty #but dont or youll get alcohol poisoning #also I used ‘turn into a chew toy’ 3 times and I dont care :)#my writing

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miupow · 5 months

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「 ♫ 」 ── 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 .

you hated minho with everything you had, but you just couldn't stop yourself from coming back for more again and again... he was just so sexy when he was jealous, and no one else made you feel the way he did.

PAIRING ── lee know x fem!reader

RATING ── NSFW, MDNI !

WARNINGS ── college au, fwb!minho, frat boy!skz, toxic and possessive behavior, jealousy, he’s very mean in this im ngl, oral (m. rec), face-fucking, dirty talk, mean dom!lino, degredation kink and name-calling, humiliation kink, slut-shaming, facials, non-consentual photo-taking, i really mean it guys lino is not a good guy

WORDS ── 1.8k

A/N ── an old deleted work i've rewritten for toxic sneaky link minho hehe >< hope you enjoy!! comments and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you ♡

taglist: @mapofthemazeinthemirror , @linocz , @skzooluvr

Minho's white-knuckle grip on your wrist was bruising, his blunt nails threatening to leave little stinging crescents dug into your skin-- you bit your lip to mask your giddy, triumphant smile as he tugged you into the spare bathroom, dragged you through the pulsating crowd as you tripped over your strappy heels. He only let go of you to slam the door shut and lock it swiftly behind him, his wild, firey eyes and grit-tooth scowl melting away to the bored and emotionless glare you were all to familiar with. It pierced through your vodka-soaked confidence in an instant, sent you reeling and scrambling for words to say as a dull throbbing took ahold at the base of your wrist, just over your pulse point. The flourescent lights of the bathroom made your eyes sting, too adjusted to the dark of the party outside-- it just made you struggle even more to look Minho in the eye. He always made you feel so small, towering over you and looking down at you as if you were nothing at all... and you hated it more than anything.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you spat, rubbing your wrist, fighting to keep your strength as you leveled with his gaze. It wasn't like you to hold your ground like this-- you can tell it throws Minho off, pisses him off even further as he bullies his way into your personal space. The music that had been nearly deafening just moments before had been muffled into obscurity, stripped away to a booming bassline that nearly shook the floor; it reverberated through your body still, a thrumming under your skin that left you restless, nervous. Minho could read it all over your face.

“Excuse me?! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed back venomously, taller frame advancing on you quickly. His arms come to brace themselves on either side of you, effectively trapping you against the sink-- he crowds your vision, his warm breath fanning across your face, and you try desperately to look anywhere except into his deep dark eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—" you began, as sturdy as you could, but Minho's rough, humorless laugh cuts you off. His hands grip either side of the sink with force, and you can see the veins in his forearms ripple under the fabric of his rolled-up jacket sleeves.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” there was something all too familiar about this, Minho’s voice poisoning and dripping with something that makes your thighs shake and rub together— those long fingers you came to hate and adore grabbed ahold of your chin, squeezing your plush cheeks together as he forced your eyes to meet his. a broken, barely-there whimper sneaks it’s way past your pursed lips. “Are you trying to piss me off? Is that it? Whoring around with other guys right in fucking front of me?!”

“We were just talking—“

Minho sneers. “Sure you were, rubbing up all over him and talking all sweet while dressed like a fuckin’ slut.”

He spits the words out like it was a nasty secret, jolting through you with a sickening shock— your cheeks flush hot between Minho’s cold fingers, your panties growing damp embarrassingly quickly, molded to your wet pussy folds… you loved it when Minho was jealous, loved how to see just how nasty you would make him when you hit him where it hurt.

And maybe you loved it because it proved to you, in some sick, backwards way, that Minho even cared about you at all.

“I’m not dressed like a whore,” you retort weakly, sounding far more petulant and pathetic than you meant to.

“Are you kidding me? Fucking look at you, shit. So damn beautiful. I can’t stand it.”

Minho let go of your face and backed away to take in your skin-tight dress, picked with care for the stupid frat party he had pulled you away from, the one that you didn't even want to go to— your hands twitched with the urge to cross your arms, hide and protect yourself in some way from Minho's piercing stare. Your little red dress barely covers the tops of your thighs, thin gold necklace sitting pretty just above the cleavage of your plush tits, spilling out over a push-up bra. Your outfit is complete with deep crimson lipstick painted on your quivering lips— Minho stared at them, wild and hungry, and it takes everything you have not to moan aloud.

"Slutty girl," Minho hummed, hand sliding up to caress at your exposed thigh. “So desperate for my attention… Gotta go whore yourself out so you can get put back in your fucking place? Remind you who you belong to?"

"I don't belong to you." You snapped. "We're not together, Minho-- you don't get to act like this when I see you with a different girl every week."

Minho just laughed, mean and ugly and right in your face, grabbing a rough handful of your thigh and squeezing. "Oh yeah?" he goads, the smirk on his lips doing little to hide the rage in his eyes. "You’re the one who keeps coming back for more, baby— just can’t live without this cock, huh? Constantly telling me it's over then crawling back into my bed. you’re not my girl but that pussy’s mine.”

"Fuck you," you spat, tears in your eyes.

Minho grinned venomously, opening up a pit in your stomach; his thumb ghosted across your skin, inched it's way underneath your dress, leaving a line of fire in it's wake. "Yeah, I know you want to."

You whimpered, torn halfway between pushing him off of you and begging for his touch-- the latter wins, despite all of your anger, your conflicted feelings. It always does. "please, Min--" you plead, desperate and wobbly, unsure of what you're even begging for.

"Get on your knees."

And like the slut you are, your knees hit the cold tile floor without any protest.

You were met immediately with the sight of Minho’s hard on, the outline of his thick cock straining the fly of his jeans. "'Atta girl,” Minho hummed, his voice low, one hand coming to cup your head and the other reaching to fumble with his belt. He looks his prettiest like this, you think, towering above you. Commanding attention and respect, no matter how lowly he treated you. He tugged his belt open, leaves it dangling from his belt loops, quick and rough in unzipping his fly; your mouth watered, eyes wide and hazy as you watch him pull his stiff cock out of his boxers, his shaft slapping obscenely against his belly. “Gonna fuck your face, gonna ruin that pretty throat— open wide, baby.”

His cock was flushed pretty pink and leaking precum, flared tip shiny and throbbing, begging for your tongue— you wasted no time to trail chaste kitten licks over the dripping slit, relish in the way Minho’s breath hitches from the feeling, his fingers tangling in your hair. You closed your eyes in rapture, lose yourself in the salty, bitter taste of his shaft… and Minho grunted low in his throat, tightened around a fistful of your hair and pulled you back off his dick harshly, shaking you out of your reverie and knocking you nearly on your ass in surprise.

“Said I was gonna fuck your throat, stupid bitch. Open your fucking mouth and stop teasing.”

Rougher than usual, he pushed you back to take his cock into your mouth, shoved you all the way down to his twitching balls. You gagged violently, tears collecting in your lash lines. “There we go,” Minho hissed, the hand in your hair rubbing soothingly over your burning scalp. “Take it like a good girl.”

He began to thrust into your throat in true earnest, uncaring for your comfort, heavy balls slapping against your chin in a dizzying rhythm— your whines and whimpers were muffled by his cock, nasty wet noises filling the bathroom as your boyfriend uses you like a toy; the perfect backing vocals for the slow song playing outside. “Shit!” Minho whined, his hips stuttering, your nose bumping up against his pelvis— your lips left smeared red marks along his shaft and the base of his dick, and some sick satisfaction bubbles up inside of you, makes you smile around the cock fucking your throat open; while Minho ruins your makeup, leaves you gasping, drooling and choking, you’re marking him up too. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl--!"

Your pussy throbbed, empty and aching, and it registered somewhere in the back of your mind that you were crying, hot tears and ruined mascara streaming down your flushed cheeks as Minho fucked your face. "I'm-- shit, I'm gonna cum! Gonna take it, yeah? Gonna make everyone know you're mine, all mine-- fuck, 'm cumming--!"

Your eyes rolled back in delight, pretty painted mouth opening impossibly wider in preparation to take his load, but it never came— to your shock and awe, Minho pulled you off of his cock with a sickening pop, just seconds before rope after rope of hot, thick semen shoots all over your face. On your nose, cheeks, chin, some droplets falling on the flat of your tongue— you moaned at the taste despite the abject horror settling in your chest. And you watch, wide eyed and too dazed and dizzy to fight back, as Minho pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you. He smirked down at his phone screen before turning it around for you to see.

You were a mess. Your hair was disheveled, tangled everywhere from Minho’s hands. Your makeup was ruined, all over your face in tear-stained streaks... your face was pink and blotchy, shiny with splatterings of Minho’s cum, and your lipstick was smeared across your cheek, nearly to your ear. You gasped, frozen in place, unable to react any other way... Minho's smirk broke into a laugh, hollow and evil and eating you alive.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?” Minho snickered, sliding his phone back in his back pocket. "Might just have to show you off-- such a pretty picture deserves to be shared, don't you think?"

He’s quick to tuck his soft— still lipstick stained— cock back into his jeans and buckle back up his belt, fix his hair in the mirror. He looks a little sweaty but otherwise well-kept, and you wish now that you had kissed him more, marked up his face and neck with lipstick too and not just his dick, when you had the chance. "Clean yourself up, won’t you? You look like a mess.”

And with that, Minho unlocked the door and stepped out of the bathroom, shutting it behind him with a dull click.

#skz x reader #skz smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #lee know x reader #lee know smut #minho x reader

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duhnova · 1 year

Text

bad girls make good boys cry | joshua hong

pairing: virgin!joshua x experienced!reader (fem reader)

genre: smut, some fluff, academic love

word count: ~3.7k

synopsis: crying was never on joshua’s list of things to expect when he finally lost his virginity, but it’s more blissful than he could’ve imagined.

warning(s): smut under the cut (mdni !!!), established relationship, virgin joshua, dacryphilia (shua kind of full on sobs), hand kink, breeding kink, begging, dick riding, hair pulling, marking kink, spit kink, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, creampie

author notes: this is my retaliation towards @onlyhuis ,and also @lovelyhan ... i innocently self projected in my hannie fic and they in turn ATTACKED ME <3 and now im paying it back hehe.. also thank you @onlymingyus for proofreading for me.

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when you and joshua decided to rent a study room in your university's library, neither of you accounted for how cold it would be. he was dressed in a thin button up shirt with a sweater vest and you had on a skirt, that sat a little high on your hips so the underside of your ass peaked out every time you lent over the table to reach for something you placed methodically out of reach so you could give your boyfriend the perfect view.

“babe..” he mumbles, burying his face back in his textbook to hide his blush, the reading glasses he had on sliding down his nose a little as he reads the words on the page quietly to himself.

“hm?” you plop back down in the chair next to him with the highlighter dedicated to vocabulary words.

“i’m all for you expressing yourself with your clothing but.. don’t you think your skirt is a little short?” he mumbles, side eyeing you as you innocently play with the hem of said skirt.

“maybe i did pull it up a little.. don’t you like it like this though shua?” you look at him with a pout that dripped with fake innocence.

“i.. uh.” he stutters as he looks down at the skirt fanning over your thighs before looking up into your eyes, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as he thinks of something to say that doesn’t make him sound completely stupid.

“maybe a little shorter?” you mumble as you trail your fingers to the waist of your brown plaid skirt to pull it up more, your thighs on full display now as the only thing it covers is the white lacy panties you have on.

“god.. don’t do that..” he mumbles, his fingers gripping the edge of his textbook tightly as he watches your fingers ghost back down to your thighs where you grab the hem of your skirt again.

“why not? too distracting?” your lips quirk up a little as he nods, watching as you slowly lift the hem, your panties barely becoming visible but he’s able to see the edge of a wet spot that has his cock twitching in his loose trousers.

“y/n..” joshua is no stranger to your naked body, seeing it multiple times as you have no shame in changing in front of him, and he’s had his mouth on you once or twice before.

he waited a long time to have his first time be special, wanting it to be with the right person - and if he’s being frank he never thought you’d be that person at first. you were beautiful and way out of his league. yet here you were, sitting next to him, teasing him with the thought of you being dripping wet for him and he’s never felt more sure about someone in his entire life.

“shua..” you flutter your eyelashes at him, knowing you were pushing buttons your boyfriend possibly didn’t know he had.

“we’re in the library.” he mumbles as his eyes flicker off your body to look at the door that was very much locked.

“and we have the room all to ourselves for the next two hours,” you lick your lips as you watch him fidget, the gears turning in his head as he mulled over the idea of you two being in public. “we don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable though..” you place your skirt back over your thighs, pulling it down your hips so it was at an acceptable length. you might’ve liked to push his buttons to see how far you could go but you knew when to stop, your boyfriend’s comfort is more important than anything.

“i-” his hand shoots out and grabs your hand that was still holding on to the hem of your skirt. “i’m comfortable.. i just,” his eyes look at the door before looking down at you again. “the door is locked, right?”

you fought so hard to hide the cheeky smile as you watched your boyfriend's eye’s darken the longer he stared at you. you nod your head quickly, offering to double check it but he doesn’t let you move far as he yanks you into his lap just as you stand up.

“i trust you.” he whispers as he rests his hands on your hips allowing you to situate yourself comfortably on his lap.

“are you sure this is what you want?” you mumble softly as you brush the strands of hair that fell out of his eyes. he gulps quietly as he nods, whispering a quiet ‘yes’ as he squeezes your hips harder.

“i’ve always wanted you..” he whispers as he looks up into your eyes, his eyes completely blown with lust but his voice was steady with confidence. “need you so bad now.”

“well i’m right here, baby.” you whisper against his lips before you’re kissing him hard enough to bruise his lips. your hips experimentally rock against his as he groans into your mouth, a shock of pleasure shooting through his body as his cock twitches in his pants.

your body was far from foreign to joshua as his hands began to rub up and down your sides, his warm fingers slipping under your shirt before his hands dip under the waistband of your skirt so he can get two handfuls of your ass. his hands were warm and his nails dug into your plump flesh deliciously, ripping a quiet moan from you that broke the heavy makeout session.

“why’d you pull away.” he pants quietly as he watches you through hooded eyes. he continued to knead at your ass as you bent over to the side to dig through your bag.

“condom..” you mumble as you fished for the gold foil you always carried in your bag that you’d take to joshua's place just in case.

“why?” he whined a little desperately. “you don’t want me to fill you up?” you could hear the pout in his voice as you froze, blood rushing to your face as your body began to heat up.

“i-” he cuts you off by jerking your body so you are sitting up straight again.

“i overheard you talking with your friends a while back about getting creampied..” his face began to heat up as he couldn’t make eye contact with you at first. “i.. i had to look it up but, i wanna creampie you.” he swallows the lump in his throat.

“fuck..” you groan quietly biting your lip. the idea of him fucking you raw and cumming in you had a new wave of arousal soak your panties. “okay.” you whisper, burying your fingers in his hair again. moaning quietly, joshua's eyes flutter as he lets you tug his head back enough to give you a better angle to kiss him.

you kiss him a little softer this time as you settle down on his lap, your warm cunt pressed fully against his painfully hard erection. you can’t help but giggle into the kiss when you feel him twitch below you before you start to rock your hips slowly. joshua has always had impeccable self control, being able to make you cum on his tongue, fingers, and thigh plenty of times without so much as breaking a sweat - however, right now all of that is out the window as you make feelings he was unfamiliar with rush through his body.

“y/n..” he moans in between kisses, his hips sloppily bucking up against yours when you barely lift them to reposition yourself. gasping at the friction and force behind his hips you grip his hair tighter, the moan leaving your boyfriend was sinful. “sorry..”

“it’s okay, you're just desperate aren’t you baby?” you smile at him as you pet his hair gently, soothing the sting from you pulling it. he nods his head quickly as he begins to roll his hips up into yours experimentally.

“yes.. god yes.” he sounded desperate as he squeezed your ass cheeks harder. “please..”

“please what baby?” you watched the way he bit his lip shyly. “use your words shua, i won’t do anything unless you ask for it.”

“please fuck me already.” he sounded breathless as he watched your eyes sparkle, the lust drowning out your irises as you sat up on your knees. joshua whines quietly at the loss of friction. “why-”

“be a good boy and undo your pants for me baby.” he almost mewls at the words ‘good boy’ before he slips his hands out from your skirt to make quick work at undoing his belt and pants so he can push them down his thighs enough to give you access to his cock.

“are you gonna keep your skirt on?” he licks his lips, watching the way you pull your skirt up higher on your torso so he can see the soaked lace of your panties peeking out from the bottom of the plaid material.

“if you want me to take it off i will.” he shakes his head as he continues to watch your fingers hook onto the waistband of your panties, pulling the ruined material slowly down your thighs where you lift one leg at a time to pull them fully off.

“fuck..” he whispers at the sight of your bare pussy glistening in the poor study room light. “so pretty.”

“you think?” you giggle when he looks at you incredulously.

“do i think so? of fucking course i do, every inch of you is beautiful.” you can’t help but scoff playfully, trying to hide the bashful smile threatening to make its way out.

“keep talking like that and i’ll gag you with these.” you hold your soaked panties up before balling them up and tucking them into the pocket of your jacket.

“i wouldn’t be opposed to that.” he mumbles as his eyes drop back to your hands that are gingerly wrapped around the waistband of his boxers.

“are you ready?” you look back up at him again, wanting one more verbal confirmation before you continue.

“yes, i’ve been ready.” you give him a sweet smile before you finally tug his boxers down, freeing his cock that springs up and slaps against his sweater vest.

“now that's pretty.” you lick your lips and wrap your fingers around the base, squeezing it gently causing joshua to hiss and buck his hips up.

“god..” his ears get red as he tries to keep his eyes open to watch how your fingertips barely touch as you jerk your hand slowly up and down the full length of his cock. your thumb would come up to rub at his slit every couple strokes and every time he almost sobs in pleasure.

“tell me when to stop.” you lean up to kiss the underside of his jaw that was exposed to you after he threw his head back from the sheer force of the pleasure just your hand was causing. joshua was always a giver, he never expected, let alone asked you to go down on him after he had his chance to go down on you - so the feeling of your hand was new, and the look of adoration on your face when you saw his cock for the first time had his head spinning.

it was almost like time slowed down when you rubbed the tip of his cock through your folds, his precum mixing with your juices. joshua can’t help but groan lowly at the feeling of your warmth before he's moaning louder when his tip becomes enveloped by your pussy.

“fuck!” you stop moving when he moans out loudly, his fingers coming to dig into your hips. “slow.. go slow please.” you relax realizing you didn’t hurt him. everything was new to him and he didn’t want to cum just from the feeling of your walls hugging his tip.

you began to sink down on him slower, his tip dragging agonizingly slow against your walls as you took a couple minutes to finally bottom him out inside you. joshua's legs shook gently along with yours, his from the overwhelming feeling of being squeezed by your pussy and you from never feeling so full before.

“so.. big..” joshua groans quietly at the praise. you both took a couple minutes to recuperate before you slowly lifted your hips until just the tip was still inside and just when joshua went to question what you were doing you slammed your hips back down, drawing the loudest moan from joshua you had ever heard.

“ah!~” his eyes roll at the sensation, his words coming out jumbled as you do that a couple more times before finally setting a steady pace.

“that's it baby, let me take care of you.” joshua was completely relaxed in his chair, his eyes closed and his teeth digging into his lip as he tried to control his sounds so no one came knocking to investigate.

“so, so warm.. you're so warm.” he babbles, his nails leaving crescent shapes in your hips.

“am i?” you tangle your fingers in his hair again as he nods his head. “tell me more baby.” you whisper before moaning loud when he bucks his hips up in time with you pulling his hair.

“be.. be good.” you struggle to talk as his hips keep instinctively bucking up into yours, his control slipping even more. “so bad.” you mumble as you let his hips jerk you forward against his body where he wraps his arms around your waist to hold you close.

“‘m not bad.” he whines trying to bury his face in your neck to muffle his moans more.

“you’re such a bad boy,” you smirk at the way his cock twitches inside of you. “”so so bad shua, bad little whore who likes to get fucked in public.” you kiss sloppily at his jaw.

“n-no, ngh~” he lets out a strangled moan when your pussy clenches around him when he hits that spongy spot inside of you that has your toes curling and your hand gripping his hair tighter.

“can’t believe you wait this long just to have me fuck you in the university library shua.” you pull your head back enough to see his eyes were glassed over as he moaned louder, any shame of being heard going out the window. “you want me to fuck you in public more baby?”

joshua nodded his head quickly, his voice lost to the constant moans and whines escaping his mouth. you smirk at the sight of tears finally welling in his eyes, the sadistic side of you coming out a little as you tug his hair more, jerking his head back and causing his mouth to fall open. taking a second to just admire the sight in front of you, you felt your heart swell at the fact he trusted you enough to make him feel this good.

without wasting another beat you reach forward and nip at his tongue that is sticking out now. his eyes flutter and cross for a second before they close completely when you begin to suck on his tongue.

everything was beginning to build up inside you both, his moans were beginning to get lost in his throat as his cock twitched more with each bounce of your hips. your legs were beginning to shake from exhaustion and from the building orgasm that was winding up quicker and quicker the more his tip hit your g-spot.

“are you close, baby?” you whisper after letting his tongue go.

“i-” his sentence is cut off with another wave of moans and whines as he squeezes his arms around you tighter.

“i think you are.” you try to laugh but it comes out as a breathy moan instead as you rest your arms around his shoulders as you let your hips slow down a little.

“no no no.”’ he begs as he starts to buck his hips into yours more quicker. he didn’t want the pleasure to stop as he found his own rhythm and confidence in his hips.

“fuck, thats it baby,” you moan louder than you have. “right there shua! shit!” you whine, burying your face into his neck.

joshua continued to thrust his hips up into you fast, his cock leaking precum into you until he felt a strange feeling building up his legs and back that caused his hips to stutter.

“gonna cum?” you sit back up enough to see his nose scrunched up as he bit hard into his bottom lip to stifle his sounds. “that's it baby.” you begin to bounce quickly again, taking over the reins as you helped him reach his orgasm quicker.

“fuck! god please, i’m gonna cum inside.. let… let me come inside. please!” joshua bubbles and tears up more as his first ever orgasm was right there.

“cum shua, please please, cum inside me.” your orgasm was right there as well, the familiar warmth was filling your body as you leant forward to be pushed up against his body again. “give me your cum… your.. your.. fuck please baby. you feel so good.”

with a strangled sob, joshua buries his face in your neck as he unloads his cum deep inside of you. your own orgasm finally washes over you as you sit fully on his cock, letting your pussy clench and unclench around him until he is milked dry.

a quiet sniffle followed by tears hitting your neck causes you to panic and come out of your post orgasm haze quickly as you jerk away from joshua's body to see his eyes welled with tears and his eyes still hazy from his orgasm.

“joshua? joshua baby.” your voice was soft as you cupped his cheeks to tilt his head up so he was looking at you. “what's wrong baby? did.. did you not want his after all?”

“no.. no i,”’ he sniffles as he closes his eyes and lets you gently wipe his tears away before you kiss his eyes and nose gently. “just a little overwhelmed i guess.” he mumbles before his eyes flutter open to look up at you again.

“maybe doing this here wasn’t the best idea.” you gently rub your thumbs against his cheeks.

“i couldn’t have thought of a better place actually.” he offers you a genuine smile, causing you to laugh quietly.

“really? you never imagined your first time being in a bed?”

“i’m not that boring,” he pouts a little, his mind coming out of the haze. “but i never did imagine my first time being in our universities library.” he laughs quietly before groaning at the feeling of his softening cock slipping out of your warm pussy.

“i’m glad this was memorable for you.” you lean forward to peck his nose again before finally standing up, wincing at the slight sting between your legs.

“it was perfect.” his hands rubbed gently at your thighs as you stood in front of him for a couple seconds before shuffling out of his way so he could stand up as well to situate himself back into his pants.

“that makes me so happy.” you smile brighter, grabbing your still wet panties from your pocket you slide them back on to make sure none of his cum drips out of you. “i'm hungry now, how does burgers and a milkshake sound?”

“sounds amazing,” joshua begins to pack your stuff up, handing you things so you can put them in your bag that sat on the ground between your chairs. “lets find a bathroom too… fuck.” he groans when he looks over to see you bent over, putting your bags away.

“what?” you stand up straight and tilt your head back to look at him as you swing your bag over your shoulder.

“pull your skirt back down baby..” he couldn’t make eye contact with you as he stared at the wall ahead of you.

“what? you just fucked my brains out and you're still embarrassed to see my ass?” you smile playfully as you wiggle your skirt back down to cover everything.

“first of all, you rode me till i cried. second of all, i'm not embarrassed to see your ass… i just left hand prints on it that's all.” he mumbles the last part but you heard him loud and clear as you walked towards the door.

“you what?” you turned and lifted your skirt like you were gonna be able to see them. “show me!”

“show you?” he looked at you wide eyed. “how?”

“take a picture! i wanna see my boyfriend's hand prints on my ass.” you pout as you turned and put your ass on display so he could pull his phone out and snap a picture really quick.

“here.” he mumbles as he shows you his phone screen, where your ass was beautifully on display with two pretty red hand prints on it.

“woah,” you could feel your face heating up again. “keep that.” you go to hand him his phone back before pulling it back again. “actually, let me make it your wallpaper.”

“no no no,” he tried to get it back from you but you just giggly evilly while keeping it out of his reach.

“don’t you want everyone to see how pretty you make my ass look?”

“fuck no.” he grabs you by the waist and pulls you back against his body. “only mine to see.” he pouts as he looks over your shoulder to see you had closed his phone already.

“i’m only yours baby.” you giggle as you hand him his phone back and kiss his cheek before wiggling out of his grasp. “now let’s go find that bathroom and get some food.”

feedback and reblogs greatly appreciated!

#svthub #joshua smut #seventeen smut #joshua fluff #seventeen fluff #joshua imagines #seventeen imagines #joshua scenarios #seventeen scenarios #joshua hong

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cloudysfluffs · 1 month

Text

--And Once with Tickles!!

A/N: BLARHG i havent posted a fic of any kind in like four years. and i havent written a TICKLE fic in like SIX years!!!! so i might be a little rusty. but this fic has been in the works for OVER A YEAR NOW and itd be a shame if only my bf gets to see it :P so im posting it to da world!!!!!

Summary: basically just if the tickle scene from Sock Opera was longer ^^'' its literally my favorite tk scene of all time so now you can have an entire fic where i stretch it out for 5k words!!!!!!!!!!!! <3

Lee: Bill? Dipper? Bipper <3

Ler: Mabel + Stan

WARNING: THIS IS AN SFW TICKLE FIC!!!!! KINK/FETISH BLOGS DO NOT TOUCH!!!!! MOST OF THE CHARACTERS IN HERE ARE MINORS AND ALL OF THEM ARE RELATED!!!!! DON'T BE WEIRD!!!!!

“Whoah, whoah, hey-- hey, HEY!”

SMASH!

The cake prop crashed against the ground with a horrible crackling sound, breaking apart beneath both of their weights. There was a collective jump and gasp from the startled crowd. Even the puppets themselves-- or, at least, the soul piloting them-- seemed taken off guard.

Despite the panic and destruction, neither Bipper nor Mabel took too long to shake it off. Bipper landed on the ground, on his stomach, just a few feet away from Mabel, who’d landed on her side. Instantly, he pushed himself up, eyes wide, feeling around the floor for the journal. A stagelight swiveled, reflecting off the shiny gold cover, and both of them leapt for it with the determination of a starving animal on a hunt. They touched down at the very same time. They wore matching, angry glares, each gripping the journal so tightly that their knuckles were turning white. Mabel knew, as she squinted to avoid the spotlight, that there was no hope in saving the show. But there was hope for saving her brother! And if that meant sabotaging everything she worked for, then…Well, it was about time she sacrificed something for Dipper.

They rolled across the stage, tumbling over one another, until Bipper’s head reached the edge. If he craned his neck backwards enough, he could see the confused and terrified face of the audience. Something he would’ve found amusing, if the stakes weren’t so high. Mabel was on top of him, her knee on his stomach, and both hands on the journal, tugging and yanking with all her might. He just held on, harder, gritting his teeth. The very same thought was in both of their minds. I’ve almost got it!

“Get out of my brother’s body, you evil triangle!!” Mabel yelled, pressing her leg down even harder. Enough to be uncomfortable, but not enough to cause any lasting damage. She really had to engrain that thought into her head. Once Bill got out of here-- and she would get him out of here-- it would be Dipper’s body suffering the consequences. He’d already been through too much. It turned out to be just enough to get the book to slip out of his hands. Both of their eyes widened in shock, but before Bill could give too much chase, she made sure to whack him with the journal. Just for good measure. She’d wanted to do that this whole time!!

Mabel stumbled to her feet, running back to center stage, just as Bipper was starting to sit up and rub his forehead. He growled, in a way she hadn’t heard since she was in Stan’s mind, in a way she knew her brother couldn’t replicate if he tried. Fascinatingly, she watched as his face seemed to heat up, reddening his skin even more than it had been already, as he pushed himself off the ground. If he were human, she may have assumed his failure had embarrassed him. But this was Bill, they were talking about…so, if she had to guess, this was his human-body equivalent of his yellow turning red. Kinda cute! In a weird, gross way.

“Grrr…You can’t stop me!” He scowled, his eyes narrowing on the book. Mabel looked behind her. The set pieces blocked access backstage from this side, and while she could move to the stage stairs, or even jump down, that’d take a good amount of coordination. Before she could decide…she was leapt on. She gasped, feeling the air leave her lungs as she was tackled to the wooden floor. The journal slipped from her grasp, and landed on the floor beside her. Both she and Bipper placed their hands on it at the same time, hers on the edge, and his on the palm of the cover. Bipper was sitting on top of her, straddling her waist, his chest heaving as he panted. She felt breathless, too. But, as she stared up at him, still pink in the face, and with a tired, yet satisfied grin on his face…It was as if something clicked in her mind.

“I’m a being of pure energy, with no weakness!”

Mabel stared at him, almost in disbelief. It seemed so obvious. In any other circumstance, it would’ve been the very first thing she thought of, when searching for a method to gain the upper hand in combat, without actually hurting the other person. She did it to Dipper all the time! So often, in fact, that she figured the townsfolk wouldn’t bat an eye, if they saw her do this at her own show. For the first time, it was her turn to get to wear that smug, knowing smirk. She brought her other hand around to rest over the journal like a seat belt, just so he couldn’t snatch it while she talked.

“True…But you’re in Dipper’s body!” She reminded, to which he huffed, as if offended. What, did she think he forgot? For once, it was like she could read his mind, because she picked up for him. She lifted the hand that wasn’t protecting the journal, and wiggled her fingers.

“And I know all his weaknesses!~”

Bipper quirked a brow. In the split second between her final comment, and what she was going to do next, she could see the cogs visibly turning behind his eyes. He wasn’t used to not knowing what was about to happen. Typically, at a glance, he could look at a person and see right through to their mind, where he could pluck their thoughts and plans right out. Sometimes, he knew what someone was about to do before they did. Having to rationalize like a human made it so he had to manually run through his own mental database, for what she could possibly mean…It was such a broad assessment. He was human, for christs’ sake. What wasn’t a weakness to them, really? They couldn’t handle being stretched too far, or bleeding too much, and their limbs could only bend to a certain point. Humanity was so fragile! It was honestly a mystery how they survived so long. But he’d pinned her like this for a reason; how could she possibly hurt him?

“What do you mean his--?”

Before he could finish, Mabel lifted her wiggling fingers…and slipped her hand into his jacket, pressing them just underneath his arm.

Bipper felt as if his entire body seized. In the half-second that the sensation touched down, he was overcome with a surge of physical reactions he’d never experienced before. First, he shivered, goosebumps freckling over his skin. It was as if every nerve in his body ignited, with an odd, fluttery tingling. Worse, perhaps…was the way he vocally reacted.He gasped, and squeaked, an embarrassingly high-pitched noise leaping from his throat. The glare, which he’d taken pride in withstanding, was forcibly wiped from his expression, replaced by a shaky smile. It felt like his insides were bubbling. But when he opened his mouth to express that concern…he realized what it was.

“GaHhh--! AAAaahhahahahahaha!” It was the urge to laugh. Uncontrollable giggles poured out of him like bubbles to a heated cauldron. The heat he felt rush to his face only made that metaphor seem all the more accurate. Mabel and the audience might’ve heard Dipper’s voice, but he heard his own. The helplessness in his tone disgusted him. Out of his own control, his reflexes went haywire, demanding that he get anywhere as long as it was away. Robbed of the motor skills required for any complex movements, he found himself toppling backwards, pinning his arms to his sides. He’d hoped falling would be enough to put distance between him and his tormentor, but it seemed like the opposite had occurred. The moment he was down, she took advantage, by climbing on top of his waist, instead. She wriggled the fingers of both of her hands under each of his arms, ruthlessly scribbling for long enough for him to feel as if any attempts at fighting back would be futile. And then, she slid both hands down, grazing his ribs, before settling on his sides. The motion elicited another yelp, and another full-body shiver, before he settled back into the helpless giggling that had possessed him before.

It was unusual. It was unbearable. It…tickled.

“Tickle tickle!~” Mabel cooed, and for some reason, Bipper felt a heat rush to his cheeks. In fact, the burning sensation stretched all the way to the tips of his ears, making him feel compelled to wrench his eyes shut and turn his head away. The words-- or was it that voice?-- made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Somehow, it seemed like her touch only tickled more, the teasing worsening the odd hypersensitivity afflicting his nerves. His hands locked around her wrists, and he arched his back, shoving pitifully while he used his heels to kick at the ground. Whether it was due to the tickle-induced weakness, or the pose was just that effective, he didn’t get anywhere. Mabel smirked, baring her braces like fangs, like she could see just how much the comment worked on him. Dipper couldn’t stand that, either!

“Awww, whatsa matter?~ Does it tiiiickle?~ Are you too tiiicklish to handle it?~ Kitchy-kitchy-koo!~”

“S-StahahaAAahahahahahahap!” He hissed, scowling, cursing the stutter in his voice. Damn Pine Tree’s twitchy little body and his squeaky little voice! How did he live, being so sensitive?? He couldn’t bear to listen to another word of that teasing, bringing his hands up to cover his ears. And, in retaliation, Mabel’s nails skittered upwards again. They passed over his ribs, before again settling into a gentle scratch just under his arms. It got the exact same reaction the downward motion over the same spot had caused; a gasp, a yelp, and a full-body shiver, all before his arms snapped right back down again. Both of them seemed irritated by that last response.

“AAGhh-! Whyhyhyhyhyhyhyhy cahahahahahahahan’t I mohohohohove my ahahahahahahahaharms?!”

“Reflexes!” Mabel chimed in, instantly, as if it were obvious. To a human, it may have been, but for Bill, ‘reflexes’ were an entirely foreign concept. He’d never felt so…effortlessly disarmed. And that was coming from someone who spent a good chunk of his life in the second dimension, and, the rest of the time, was confined to the mindscape. He was already relatively harmless. But somehow, when he had a physical body to interpret reality with, being helpless was so much more torturous. He knew the human body was pathetic, but really, how had they survived this long as a species, if all it took were a few pokes to entirely collapse them?? Perhaps it was a combination of how unfamiliar the sensation was to him, and how sensitive Dipper’s body was, anyway…but he felt he reserved the right to mentally complain, anyway. He felt naturally more whiny. As if Mabel could tell, she grinned, and retracted a hand.

“Here, let me help you!”

Her now-free arm shifted backwards, so her hand could lock around his wrist…and force it upwards, pinning it to the ground beside his head. The other hand, that had been trapped in place, wriggled its way out. She crossed it over his body, and switched which side she was attacking, her claws now slipping into his jacket to scratch beneath the arm she’d pinned. It all happened so quickly, Bipper hardly had the chance to look horrified…before he fully squealed, his laughter ratcheting up another octave.

“EEEEeeehheheheheek!! ‘Hehehehehehehehehelp’?!” He echoed, offended, the bite of his tone lost in his giggling. He wanted to argue more thoroughly, but good god, that tickled so much more!! He arched his back, jerked at his elbow, and turned to one side, desperate for something-- anything-- to put distance between his skin and her nails. Talk about feeling disarmed! He thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse, and yet, here he was.

“Yeah! Help! Now you don’t have to flail your arms around; you can just lay back and take it!” Mabel interjected, with an innocence that seemed far too natural for how cruel she was being. Bill saw some of himself in her, sometimes. With that kind smile, and flattery. So, sweetly deceptive. He had to hand it to her, she knew how to get ‘em! This girl was brimming with potential; the unicorns and butterflies and rainbows were just a thin blanket to mask the chaos that she was capable of. The little brat. Maybe he could use that someday. But now, it only aided in annoying him.

“You’re welcome!~”

He wasn’t an idiot. He saw what she was trying to do. But just in case he didn’t, she told him, anyway. Mabel leaned down, eyes narrowed, so they were practically nose-to-nose.

“Get outta Dipper’s body, or I’m gonna tickle you until you pass out!!”

He growled, trying to force the corners of his lips down into a frown. She wished it would be that easy! He may be weakened, and disarmed, but please! Who did she think he was? As if he suddenly realized he had control over his not-pinned hand, he reached over to try and grab at her wrist, to pry the hand attacking him away from the spot. It did work, partially, as the tugging would occasionally slide her hand downwards…but that only meant her wiggling fingers would graze his ribs, instead, and he’d be possessed by that yelp and full-body shiver that seemed to trigger every time. The reaction weakened him. As if he wasn’t weak enough!

“Nehehehehehehehever!” He insisted, with just enough bite in his words for him to feel a swell of pride. He was starting to get used to it! His smile suddenly seemed all the more smug, practically a smirk, despite the fact that it was hardly warranted, in his current state. He was still laughing, and squirming, his entire body leaned to one side to reflexively counteract the nails scratching away at him. Mabel huffed.

First, her eyes drifted to the stage. She wished she could see Dipper. To everyone else here, she was tormenting her innocent brother in front of an audience for no apparent reason. Worse, none of them, not even their most loved ones, would get an honest explanation. Whoops. She’d apologize to him later. In the meantime, she turned her head in the other direction.

Everyone out there seemed absolutely captivated. Well, for the most part, at least. Some seemed confused, others seemed shocked. A shocking amount seemed pretty flustered, while others sported the exact opposite mood. She could just barely see Candy and Grenda confusedly flipping through the script just off stage. But, generally, most of the crowd was enjoying this thrilling multi-media masterpiece. Even those from the Mystery Shack. In fact, maybe especially those three! Mabel couldn’t help but smile, as she met their eyes through the smearing, colorful stage lights.

Wendy was leaning back in her seat with her boots kicked up on the empty chair in front of her, an amused smirk on her face. Though she couldn’t hear anything coherent from the crowd from up here (and wouldn’t be able to, anyway, over Bipper’s high-pitched squealing), she could tell that Wendy snickered, as she elbowed Soos in the side. Soos was one of the members of the audience who seemed a little flustered over the whole endeavor. Even in the low lighting, Mabel could see just how red his face was. He was grinning nervously, and fanning himself with his cap, and flinched just a little too hard as he was nudged. It was all very sweet. Truthfully, she didn’t care if this ruined the show for most of the audience, because it wasn’t for them anymore. It was for Dipper! …But it did make her feel good, to see them enjoying themselves. And no one seemed to be enjoying himself more than Stan!

Earlier today, he seemed to be a little skeptical about coming. He was swayed incredibly easily though, which was rare for him. He was probably the most stubborn man the twins had ever met, and yet a good puppy-dog-eyed stare and a promise that the end would blow his mind was enough to convince him that maybe this memory was priceless. He’d even brought a camera to film it. Even with one of his eyes obscured by the pop-out window of the old recording device, she could see how widely he was grinning, the expression on his face one of fond amusement. He must have assumed that this was the ‘spectacular closing act’ that she’d been bragging about just a few hours earlier. It wasn’t, but if this went well, he’d never have to find that out! He caught her looking out upon the crowd, and tilted his head so more of his face was visible, his grin seeming all the more proud. He gave her a reassuring thumbs up, and she felt a new wave of confidence wash over her. She could do this.

Her eyes fell back to the demon pinned beneath her, who hadn’t stopped giggling and struggling since she shifted her attention a few moments ago. He��d probably been yelling insults she’d been too distracted to hear. She squinted at him suspiciously. If this were Dipper, she’d be jumping to his spot about now. Heck, that’s probably what she’d do when wrecking anyone! But…this wasn’t Dipper. It wasn’t ‘just anyone’. This was Bill! He already seemed to be getting the hang of this sensation, with how consistently now he was shoving at her hands, and how successful his thrashing was becoming. If she let up for even a second, he might even be able to wriggle away, or worse! She needed to not only tickle him to death, but she needed to make the session intense. What was something Dipper wouldn’t be able to stand…?

Her gaze flickered to the crowd again. And, suddenly…she stopped.

Her smirk returned. Her wiggling fingers ceased, and instead that hand grabbed Bipper’s opposite wrist, so she was now pinning both to the floor. The demon-possessed vessel gasped the moment he felt a moment of solace, obviously annoyed by the fact that his giggle-fit didn’t immediately die. Every time he inhaled, or exhaled, he found he couldn’t stop laughing, like the feeling was still there, under his skin. But he was too out of breath to do anything about it! He fought with this natural, human response, while Mabel sat up as straight as she could.

“For my next act, I’ll need a volunteer from the audience!” She announced, proudly, as if it made any logical sense. The poor crowd was going to be so confused. But she didn’t need most of their approval. She only needed it from one. She grinned, and shut one eye, so she could point directly at her grunkle.

“How about you, good sir? You look like you’d make a fine actor!”

Stan lifted his head away from the viewfinder, visibly startled. He glanced to either side of him, pointed to himself, and brightened when Mabel nodded in approval. He didn’t hesitate any longer than that, handing the camera over to Soos (who fumbled with it for a moment, before giving a reassuring thumbs up) and climbing out of his seat.

Bipper was only just starting to regain his composure, when he realized what was going on. He shook his head, and blinked open his eyes, squinting out at the crowd. Jesus, had the kid’s eyes always been this bad? He almost missed Sixer’s glasses. But, the very moment he processed that Mabel’s hands had released his wrists…thick, strong arms wrapped underneath his, scooping him up into a sitting position, pressed against someone’s chest. He felt like a cat being hoisted into the arms of their owner, unable to do anything but twist his shoulders and try to wriggle out of his grasp. Mabel was still sitting on his legs. He glared over his shoulder. The light reflected off of Stan’s glasses, obscuring his eyes, and for some reason that made him look intimidating. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was in such a small, wimpy body; anyone could look like a threat, when everyone towered over you. His hands balled into fists.

“Wh-What is this?!” He scowled, stammering, trying to roll his shoulder to free it from the old man’s grasp. But it seemed like every inch that he managed to unwind, Stan just pulled him back even tighter. It was so effortless, it was hard to feel anything other than pathetic. No wonder this kid was getting tickled constantly! Everyone in town had a leg up on him!

“Let go of me!”

“This is called a grand finale!” Mabel declared, straightening her back and cracking her knuckles. The smirk on her face was downright sinister. An evil that Bill couldn’t help but think rivaled his own. She was an expert at this, wasn’t she? She knew this would up the game, considering the strength difference between them. Even with her best efforts, she wasn’t strong enough to keep him fully still. And even if she could, she’d lose leverage by being unable to use both hands. But the addition of another person-- him, especially-- had immobilized him completely, without her ever having to lift a finger. Not to mention how calculated this whole trap with her ‘grunkle’ had been. She hadn’t even had to speak word to him, for him to understand exactly where his place was, in all of this. Maybe they were psychic. Or maybe they really just did this that frequently. Man, he’d almost pity Pine Tree, if he deserved it! But he hardly had time to dwell on something like that, anyway. Not as he watched Mabel lift her wiggling fingers threateningly.

“Last chance!”

She was bold, too. But so was he. And that would be his first mistake. Daringly-- challengingly-- he smirked.

“Pssh, yeah, right!” He chuckled, rolling his eyes. Mabel glared, as he turned up his nose, quirked a brow, and scoffed. Anyone who thought this was Dipper might almost see it as in-character behavior. He’d been similarly snarky, around this point in sessions. Stan even rolled his eyes right back, and tightened his grip, as if he’d found it predictable. But anyone who knew the truth, knew he wasn’t doing it for any reason other than to call her bluff. This was a pathetic excuse of a torture attempt. He thought smarting off would prove as much. When, actually…it did the exact opposite.

“Like I’d be convinced by a little tihihiiihihiHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLING--!!”

Mabel’s wiggling fingers finally dug into his ribs. And it felt so distinctly different from the other spots, or even from how it felt when she was just grazing them earlier. It was like he’d been electrocuted, from the way his body jolted uncontrollably, and the way the sensation gripped him like a shock. The yelp of terror that jumped from his throat broke in the middle, fully replaced by helpless cackles.

…Okay. Maybe not his proudest moment.

Maybe he should’ve known better. Maybe being in this body too long was getting to him. Maybe the stupid, human impulses that he’d gotten so good at ignoring also included this vessel’s apparent desire to talk himself into corners just to get himself tickled. Whatever the case, the whole time this had been going on, the more he felt his resolve…slipping. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids, like his body suddenly remembered that it hadn’t gotten proper sleep in over twenty-four hours. Every part of him was sore, not that pain could even begin to compete with the tickly jolts shooting through his ribs. He considered the pro’s and con’s of dislocating a shoulder just to weasel out of here, but he couldn’t properly think. He swore he could literally feel circuits shorting in his brain, glitching and sparking and stuttering where the neat rows of coherent thought used to be. It had been a beautiful process to watch, from the other side…but was miserably frustrating, when it was your plans getting thrown out of whack!

He wanted to growl. To kick, and scream, and either kill this vessel or one of the two holding him back. Whichever came first! But, all that came out was…

“SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT UHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUP!!”

…A very pathetic attempt at defiance. Enough that each of his attackers dared to snicker at him in amusement. He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, thrashing and twisting in the restraints.

“W-WHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEN I GEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHET OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOUT OF THIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIIS, IHIHIHIHIHIHI’LL--! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’LL--!!”

Mabel couldn’t help but notice just how…not-evil he looked, like this. Bill’s base form had no mouth, and yet he somehow always seemed to be grinning. Earlier, she’d seen that condescending smirk in Bipper. But now it was gone, and she was seeing a face she’d never quite seen before. It wasn’t quite the flustered, giggly look she got from her brother, but it was far from the invisible, malevolent smile that Bill was always wearing. It was something in between. It might’ve fascinated her, if she was any less focused on the task at hand. Her nails, while dull, knew how to press just right, to tickle as much as possible without translating into physical pain. She scratched at the spaces between his ribs, and played the bones like a piano, watching in satisfied amusement as every motion elicited the same, predictable reaction. Cackles, squeaks and voice-cracks echoed through the auditorium, almost sounding musical against the backing-track of her rock-opera, that no one had bothered to turn off. If anything, Bill was even squirmier than her brother was, which was certainly saying something. This was usually the point in the session where Dipper gave up fighting, especially when Stan was helping, since he obviously didn’t have a chance. But Bill still had some fight in him!

“I don’t know what you did to deserve this, but clearly you’re gettin’ what’s coming to ya!” Stan accused, glancing over Bipper’s shoulder in an attempt to make eye contact. The kid was clearly avoiding it. But he still peeked up, for just a moment, if only to make a point to glare. Stan took advantage of his disorientation, knowing he was disarmed just long enough for him to be able to let go of his arms. Instead, he grabbed both wrists, and pulled them behind his back, like how a cop would while handcuffing you. But he didn’t need handcuffs, because his hands were big enough in comparison to grab both of the kid’s wrists in one of his palms while still having his fingers touch in the middle. And, with one hand free…he was able to pull out one last trick.

Fingers skittered up Bipper’s spine, spurring out an involuntary shiver that was so intense, Bill was a little surprised it didn’t jolt him out of this body entirely. He didn’t get to dwell on how scarily close that had been to breaking him, though. Because in a second, that single skittering turned into a consistent, unrelenting scribble, and any coherent thought that was left slipped out through his fingers.

“AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! NOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

Right. Almost all of the Pines’ were ticklish here. Maybe he should’ve seen that coming.

It was positively overwhelming. Every curl of his blunt nails against the spot had his nerves lighting up in a frenzy, activating the useless instinct that had him squealing and laughing like this whole ordeal was the most hilarious joke he’d ever been told. But no part of this was funny!! Not when it was him! It was humiliating, at best, and a total disgrace to his reputation at worst. He was glad the folks at home couldn’t see this, because they would never let him live it down.

“Ooh! Good call, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel praised, finally looking back up to meet his eyes with an approving smile on her face. She wished she could give him a thumbs up, but her hands were kinda busy. Bill couldn’t help but bristle at how unfair it was, that Stan could restrain him like this. He couldn’t lean forward even if he wanted to, and leaning backwards only pressed him further into that hand! And, somehow, despite the trap being objectively more simple, it was more confining! Now, he didn’t even have the privilege of flapping his hands, or making vaguely threatening gestures. And it all just tickled more! It was cruel, and unusual. He wrenched his eyes shut, and felt tears build in the corners. Crying had always been an annoying, uncontrollable thing his puppets did, but it felt especially humiliating in this context. Way to rub salt in the wound.

“MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAKE IT STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Whether it be a blessing or a curse, neither of the two around him had a chance to respond to that miserable display of emotion. Because, somehow mockingly, his body turned against him. When he tried to catch his breath, he felt a hiccup of air in his chest…that caused a snort.

The two at either of his sides brightened. And the crowd aww’ed.

He’d forgotten they were there. He was on a stage, and yet, the fact that there were more than four of them here had slipped his mind. Earlier, if he’d remembered, he would’ve shrugged it off. Whatever, who cared if they saw him like this? It wasn’t his reputation that was going to suffer for it. It was Pine Tree’s, who now had to go home and live the rest of his life knowing that most of this town had seen him get tickled on stage. And that was still, objectively, true! He knew that. He knew none of them would think twice about it. So why did the sudden realization have his face blushing hotter? Why did he feel this horrible, anxious fluttering in his stomach, like he was full of spiders? He didn’t know. But he knew it had to end.

He couldn’t take it. It wasn’t just his self-inflicted injuries that ached, now, it was others-- his sides, and his throat, and the corners of his lips, were all begging him to just stop laughing. Other than the ache, he was pretty sure he could feel this vessel overheating. Being put in this embarrassing position had struck a match inside of him that was slowly cooking him from the inside out. But more than that, he was tired. And that was hardly a feeling he even understood. Alas, the human urge to melt into a puddle and sleep for eight hours was, apparently, real. He was on the verge of uttering a genuine please, if this didn’t end soon, and he didn’t want to pull that card unless it was a life-or-death situation. So, apparently, he only had one choice left…

Damn it. It wasn’t fair! He’d let them have this win, but his fun wasn’t over. This plan was only the first of many tricks he had up his sleeve. He glanced up at Mabel one last time, eyes narrowing, as if he could glare at her very soul. But she only countered it with a smirk. She knew she couldn’t lose. She’d never lost a tickle fight against her brother!

Suddenly, the sound of his laughter began to taper off. It quieted into a fit of twitchy, broken coughs; it almost sounded like he was glitching. But then he slumped in his spot, quiet…and all four hands retracted. Dipper’s body melted into his Grunkle’s chest, eyes closed, as if he was out cold. Both attackers pulled back for a moment, visibly tense, and met eyes. Mabel, because she was testing to see if this was a good sign…and Stan, because he was genuinely startled. Jesus, he’d never passed out like that before! Usually he called it, when he knew he was getting to the end of his rope! Did they kill him on accident? There was a beat of silence that was just long enough to raise concern...and then, quick enough to be startling, Dipper sat up. He gasped, and clutched his chest, panting like he’d been awoken from a nightmare. And, well…he sort of had! Both of his family members jumped.

“Ahh!! He’s back!!” Mabel accused, lifting her clawed hands in preparation to strike again. She didn’t expect her brother to scream, flinching backwards in horror.

“AAHHhh, M-Mabel!! It’s mehehe, it’s me, it’s me!!” He pleaded, bringing up his arms to protect himself in a panic. The squeaky, nervous little voice sounded different than it had, just a moment ago. Less confident, less angry, and more…well, like her brother. If it was an act, it must’ve been a pretty convincing one, because she lowered her hands. Slowly, skeptically, Dipper lowered his, too…and she saw his round, brown eyes staring back. Her posture fully relaxed, and her grin returned to her face. It actually worked!! Tickling always worked.

#tickle fic #tickle art #tickling #my art #my fics #lee!bipper #ler!mabel #ler!stan #ive never been more nervous to post something in . my life #im just gonna hope and pray it reaches the right audience #sfw tickle community #sfw tickles #tickle community #gravity falls tickle

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