#I keep forgetting about the sub-title

[nevermoorsource]

Check out this Silverborn: The Mystery of Morrigan Crow snippet that was posted a few weeks ago on Hachette Australia's Instagram!

[sevikasfemme]

my hands are shaking from holding back from you —

— baby's first fic 🥺👉👈 !! i'm a poet and this is my first time writing a full fic for a character so of course it's about our wife, Sevika ❤️

💋you and sevika broke up a month ago; you taunt her to the point of lightly embarrassing you on a phone call with makeup sex 🤭

💋title is just direct lyrics of Dress by Taylor Swift ; fic has loose inspo/association— middle photo tile is a crop from a piece i commissioned by danacrowart❤️

content tags: lesbian sex, reader has a vagina, femme!reader, bottom!reader, top!sevika, jealousy, possessiveness, dom/sub undertones, strap-on use, impact play, implied/referenced drug use, breakup/makeup, some fluff, semi-public sex

word count: 4.6k | read on ao3 | bluesky

You and Sevika had broken up nearly a month ago. She had given you some bullshit excuse about fearing for your wellbeing because of her line of work—fucking self-sabotaging martyr that she was. You called her out on it; told her it was a stupid reason to end the relationship, and she didn’t even argue. Instead, she had the nerve to attempt to reassure you that, despite your shared social circles, things wouldn’t be awkward because the two of you would still be “best friends.” 

You later found out from Ran that there had been some threat made by a disgruntled enforcer involving you, and knowing Sevika, that was probably the impetus that led to her even considering ending things with you. Your safety being at risk. It didn’t change that you were heartbroken, angry, and tear-stained on the best of the days after she left. Not to say that she was doing much better; she’d started chain smoking between glasses of whiskey in the mornings, losing terribly in her games at the last drop; hell, she’d been too dysregulated to work the first three days following the breakup. Silco had never seen her so emotionally volatile.

Despite your heartache, you spent the weeks apart trying to forget Sevika, while all she did was mope in the memory of you—wrestling with her decision that led to her own misery. Inevitably, your friends encouraged you to ‘get back out there,’ to which you, a bit too eagerly, agreed. Were you almost solely motivated by the thrill of potentially seeing Sevika at a location she was known to frequent? Maybe. Still, you let them preen over you, hyping you up as they fawn over how pretty you look; hair and makeup done in the way you knew Sevika liked. The dress you slipped into was not one she had personally seen or had the opportunity to praise. Still, it was her favorite color— something you’d intentionally noted when you bought it out of spite, vying for the opportunity to flaunt it in her direction. It had become the catalyst in your daydreams of getting back together with her— daydreams that were borderline maladaptive, at this point... Still, if she was going to insist on remaining apart, you were going to make her regret it.

The Last Drop never changed— buzzing and neon; alive with shimmer-filled patrons whose pupils were too wide. Arms linked with your friends, letting them move you, you enter the familiar space—your eyes were trained on Sevika’s regular spots; searching for her. You hoped to see her brooding at the end of the stairwell, peacocking while she plays poker in one of the round booths, or smoking near the exit door in the back. Alas, to your disappointment, your eyes don’t find hers, and you are suddenly less interested in being out at all. 

For most of the evening, you mindlessly swipe on one of your dating apps, barely engaged in the conversation amongst your friends. You match with several mildly interesting people—you even set up a date for later that night—but you’re bored; and your eyes keep flitting around the space, hoping for a glimpse of Sevika. The hours tick by, and you’re almost ready to make your friends take you home—but then you hear her voice behind you, saying your name, her tone riddled with confusion, inquisition, and something else you can’t place. 

For a moment, everything around you seems to just stop. Your eyes lock with hers and it’s as if the last month apart never happened. 

“Why are you here?” she continues— and her tone; it doesn’t sit right with you. Your features settle into a glare, as the prior month of yearning to be with her slams to the forefront of your mind. You were pissed. You open your mouth to give her a smart-ass reply when her voice cuts you off.

“C’mere. We need to talk,” she grunts, her prosthetic fingers curling around your arm unexpectedly, drawing a noise of protest from you. You roll your eyes before letting her drag you upstairs to her office, shooting your friends a look that says, ‘I’m fine’ before she pushes you into the room and kicks the door closed. 

Now she’s scowling down at you, and you’re giving it right back to her, crossing your arms.

“A ‘hello’ would have been preferable.” you snap. Sevika doesn’t flinch or react, sighing before leaning against the door. 

“Why are you here?” she says again, although this time she almost sounds sad. 

Your expression falters only slightly before you reply harshly, “Am I not allowed to be?”

Sevika scoffs, shaking her head, her short hair falling in her face. “You never come to The Last Drop unless I’m with you. You have no interest otherwise—”

You snort, interrupting her. “That was when we were dating,” you clarify, stepping forward and tilting your head slightly to glare up at her. Her eyebrows pull into a concerned arch, her expression softening. She’s looking at you like she’s worried about you, almost making you ease up. Almost. You step closer, examining her. You still cared about her…still loved her, so of course, seeing the subtle bags under her eyes made you wonder if she was taking care of herself. 

“Are you…mad that I’m here?” you ask hesitantly, trying not to fidget with your nails. You were worried; feeling guilty for being so desperate to see her, considering your appearance at The Last Drop had made her look at you like you as if you were a ghost. Now, of course, you were ridiculing yourself for potentially hurting her more by being here. Nevertheless, you were also grappling with the fact that she broke up with you; so did she really have any right to look so distraught at your presence alone? 

She seems surprised at your question, glancing down at your almost-fidgeting fingers, and then it clicks for her; your aloof, irritable demeanor is disingenuous.  A smirk crept onto her face, and you picked up on the upward turn of her mouth. 

You scoff, stepping back away and shaking your head, “Forget I asked—” Now she’s grabbing your arm again. 

“Sweet of you to care, but m’not mad,” she mumbles, “just surprised. Thought I broke your heart,” she clicks her tongue, shaking her head and looking you over. “But clearly you’re doing just fine,” she notes, her eyes lingering on your curves too long. 

“You did break my heart– you insufferable––” You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath and rolling your eyes. You let her circle you before raising your eyebrow at her. “You don’t own the place, you know…” you protest, wanting to know what she’s thinking–what her intentions were, trying to coax it out of her. 

Sevika runs her prosthetic fingers over the strap of your dress, tugging it lightly to bring you closer to her, humming, “Interesting choice of words…” She moves to touch your face, and you swat her hand away. 

“Stop flirting; why did you drag me up here? I’m not leaving just because you’re pissed off that I’m —” 

She huffs at you, snapping the strap of your dress back to your skin, “I’m not pissed off, you brat,” she snaps, pushing you back into the door, her prosthetic arm caging you in as she leans against you, her flesh hand gripping your waist to move you slightly, then reaching behind your hip to lock the door. 

You huff back at her action, “and why are you doing that?” you ask, your eyes flicking down to her hand. Sevika laughs mockingly and runs her hand back up your side. 

“Do you want to be interrupted?” she asks, grinning at you. You look at her in disbelief, a laugh escaping you. 

“Oh no, we are not having sex,” you shake your head, “you have lost your mind if you think—” Your words die on your tongue as her hand shoots up to grip your hair, tugging your head back to look at her. 

“Say that again,” she demands lowly “Tell me, ‘we aren’t having sex’ again, and I’ll stop. I’ll stop coming to The Last Drop altogether,” she smirks, watching your eyes flicker, glazing over–briefly–before sharpening back into a glare. 'Stubborn', she thinks to herself. She chuckles at your lack of response, dropping her head to kiss at your throat. Under normal circumstances, this would be enough to make you cave, to let her throw you on her desk and submit to her like she wanted—but now? You were livid, shocked at her audacity— she broke up with you.

“You have lost it.” You hiss, pushing at her with your fists on her chest. Her gray eyes look hurt before she narrows them at you again, grabbing your chin with her prosthetic hand to make you look up at her. 

“Are you truly trying to pretend that you didn’t come here, dolled up how I like you,” she wets her lips as she eyes your dress “in this new little number, hoping to see me?” she goads, challenging you. You push at her again, and she laughs. “Admit it—you’re dressed up for me, you want me back,” she smirks. 

You turn around to try and leave through the door, fed up with her attitude as you fumble with the lock. Then you feel her grab your wrists, pinning you to the door once again, her front now pressed to your back.

“Admit it” she repeats. You shake your head, rolling your eyes, deciding to poke the bear… 

“I have a date tonight,” you snap, looking at her over your shoulder, watching her face fall into anger. It was as if you had knocked the wind out of her; she could not stand hearing that you had a date planned. The thought of someone else, the sheer potential of someone else, looking at you, touching you, kissing you, hearing you moan their name the way you moaned hers— she wanted to choke you for even suggesting that as a possibility; wanted to hold you down and remind you who you belonged to. 

“Cancel it.” She hissed. 

“No—” you snipe back immediately, your eyes flicking to your phone in your bag. 

Sevika followed your eyes, and rage struck through her as she realized you were planning to keep your date. She wasn’t thinking straight at this point, her possessiveness and jealousy pushing her over the edge. She released one of your wrists, whipping you around to face her and reaching to snatch your phone with the other. Her body was trembling from anger as she loomed above you, her dark gaze locking on yours, her expression cold. 

“Cancel your date.” She said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument, but it just eggs you on, and now you’re fully committed to pissing her off. 

“Why would I do that?” You ask innocently, your teeth dripping with saliva as you smirk at her. “You’re my ex, Sevika, I don’t have to listen to anything you say,” you sneer. Sevika blinks, shocked at your disobedience, something she was not used to in her relationship with you. 

You take it further, grinning, “What? Are you not used to hearing me tell you no?” you taunt, “maybe you should have thought about that before you—” 

SLAP.

The sound of her flesh hand connecting with your cheek is followed by buzzing silence, and you’re acutely aware of the heat pooling in your tummy. You blink back tears, your widened eyes finding hers again. She’s glaring. 'Oh fuck', you think, your face flushing pink from the sting of her slap. 

“You know better.” she says, rubbing softly at the spot on your cheek she’d smacked. You open your mouth to say something, but she’s shaking her head. Sevika grabs a fistful of your hair in her metal hand and drags you across the room, sweeping your legs up and from under you onto the couch before pushing your face into the worn linen of the cushion. 

“If you won’t cancel your date on your own–” she mumbles, lifting your ass and angrily shoving your dress up around your waist, your dampened panties now on display for her, “I’m going to help you,” she snaps, smirking down at your arousal seeping through the cotton of your underwear. You move to sit up, and she splays her fingers across your back, keeping you down. Sevika sucks her teeth, shaking her head as you hear her move her other hand to un-do her pants. That’s a sound you’re familiar with… 

“Sevika–” you protest with warning before your breath catches at the feel of her tugging your panties to the side; familiar silicone slipping up to nudge your clit. You jolt, your back arching further under her hand on your back. Sevika could not believe you had so casually refused her. She may have been the one to end things, but that was for your own safety; how could you be so oblivious to that rationale? 

It didn’t matter now, though. As far as Sevika was concerned, you were hers, and you apparently needed a reminder that no one else could give you what she could; that no one else was allowed to touch you. Her expression softens as she leans over you, nudging your ear with her nose. 

“Tell me,” she starts, a gentleness in her tone that was agonizingly familiar, “do you want me to stop?” she asks, earning a quick shake of your head as you look back up over your shoulder to meet her gaze. She smirks. “Atta girl,” she murmurs, pecking your cheek.

 “And your pretty face? you okay?” she soothes, letting her lips linger on your cheek until you nod again. Then she’s moving back up and positioning herself behind you. She bites her lip, pleased at the way your thighs spread for her as she begins prodding at you with the tip of her strap. She grunts, her hand on your back moving to dig its nails into the soft flesh of your ass.

“Fuck…” she curses under her breath, squeezing your rear before shifting her grip, opening you more for her as she slowly leans her weight into you, her eyes glued to how your pussy swallows her cock, inch by inch. Sevika’s too mesmerized to register you groaning at first, but when she hears you, she stills, rubbing her thumb over the soft skin of your ass, like she’s contemplating something. Then, suddenly, Sevika leans over you, snapping her hips so that she’s hilted inside of you completely. 

You yelp; panting as your fingers grasp onto the throw pillow your head was propped on. 'Mine', Sevika thinks to herself, pleased with your lack of protest. Sevika was fully convinced that she was the only one allowed to have you, and thinking about the reality that you had actually planned to go on a date—planned on letting someone else even look at you; it was more than she could damn well take. She was angry, jealous, desperate to remind you that you were hers; she slammed her hips into you repeatedly, not giving you an opportunity to adjust to her properly; she couldn’t. She needed you now. 

You whimper, eyes hazy and half-lidded as you look back over your shoulder at her. Sevika smirked, digging her fingers into your hips. Her breathing was becoming more and more dysregulated as she picked your phone back up, thumbing through your messages. She looks at you smugly.

“Do you still want to go on that date?” she asked; a syrupy, taunting sweetness in her tone as she pushed her hips against you in a hard and possessive thrust. You whine, shaking your head, unable to form words. Sevika laughs, leaning down over you again, her body covering your own as her hand tugged at your hair. 

“No?” she growls against your ear, her lips trailing against the side of your jaw “Why the change of heart, hm?” she mocks. 

A breathy, “Just want you, Sev–” leaves your parted lips; your cheeks flush with embarrassment at how easy you were for her. Your gasped confession, combined with the fact that you used her nickname, made her heart rate elevate. She knew exactly how to break you; how to make you submit. 

“What was that?” she whispered against your neck, her breath hot against your skin as she continued to softly pound into you. You groan in embarrassed frustration, struggling to form words. In your blissed-out state, you fail to notice her tabbing over to the contact of the date you had set up, and pressing down on the call button. 

Sevika couldn’t help but smirk as she did so, hearing the line start to ring. It was such a petty thing to do, but she couldn’t deny the feeling of satisfaction she got at the idea of cutting your date short before it even started. She wanted to hear you try to tell your date that you were no longer available. 

The butch remained over you, still thrusting, and held the phone to your ear. Your eyes widen and you try to silence yourself, tucking your head into the throw pillow to muffle your moans. She grinned as she saw your head turn. 

“No,” she said firmly, yanking back on your hair to pull your face out of the pillow. “Don’t you dare hold your voice back, baby.” You freeze when you hear your date’s voice on the other line as they pick up.

“Hello?” they greet, and you bite down on your lip to quiet yourself. Sevika’s smug expression remained plastered on her face as she heard them pick up. She nipped at your opposite ear, whispering to you as your date repeated their greeting, trying to get a response from you. 

“Tell them you can’t go on your date tonight,” she instructs, no longer thrusting into you, only grinding continuously, the tip of her strap rubbing deep inside you, bumping your cervix lewdly. You hesitate, and Sevika tuts, moving the hand that was gripping your hair to wrap around your throat.

“Don’t make me repeat myself—” she hissed, pulling almost entirely out of your cunt before quickly shoving herself back into you, causing you to squeak. You try, you truly try, to keep your tone even as you speak.

“H-hey—” you start, clearing your throat, “I—” 

Sevika is laughing against your ear, her hips slowly picking up pace, wanting to hear you struggle to tell them you couldn’t go. Needing to hear it. She squeezed your throat a little, encouraging you to continue. You swallow thickly, eyes rolling softly before you try to speak again.

“I’m so – ah– M’so sorry—” you stammer out. “I need to raincheck our—our—” 

Sevika chuckles at you struggling, licking the shell of your ear. “What was that, doll? I don’t think your date heard you properly.” She teased, letting go of your throat and running her hand down to palm at your breast. Your cheeks are burning pink, and you struggle to stop yourself from moaning out her name. 

“I’m just— n-not able to go tonight—” you pant through suppressed whimpers. Sevika felt a wave of possessive satisfaction rush through her, her pupils dilating. She was greedy, though, and found herself needing to drive the point home harder. She nibbles at your ear again.

“Who are you canceling this date for?” she demands. You whimper, cheeks hot as you try to avoid her question; you knew what she was doing. She hums, nipping at your earlobe and neck, her lips sloppily sucking at you. “Who? Hm?” she repeats. You couldn’t contain yourself any longer. 

“Sevika—” you moan sweetly, head dropping on the pillow again and eyes fluttering closed as you succumbed to the pleasure she was giving you, knowing your, now canceled-on date had definitely heard your erotic declaration. 

Sevika kissed your ear as she heard the moan you finally let slip after trying desperately to keep your voice in check. She moved her hand to tease at your now swollen clit, causing you to yelp. She put the phone up to her ear, ego-tripping on the way your back was arching to meet her thrusts as she spoke.

“Sorry,” she practically purred into the mic of the cellphone, her tone sardonic. “She won’t be able to make it on that date tonight. Something…came up,” she said as she imagined the confusion on your date’s face at the sound of her voice, but it was all the more satisfying when you whimpered again. She continued to speak, her fingers rubbing tight, slow circles over your twitching bundle nerves. 

“Yeah,” Sevika breathes, her own eyes half-lidded now, squeezing harshly on your clit and moaning when you jerk back on her in response, “yeah, she’s quite busy.” 

You’re keening, looking over your shoulder again to pout up at her, your cheeks rosy—embarrassed by the pornographic squelching of your cunt wrapped around her cock.​​ She caught your gaze, her eyes softening at yours as she pressed firmly on your clit again, chiding as she shook her head, her mouth pulling away from the receiver of the phone to direct her words to you. 

“Aww, baby, what’s that pout for, hm?” she coos. “Blushing because they can hear you taking it like the good girl I know you are?” 

Your lip wobbles, overstimulated and flustered; a strained cry passes your lips –“Please—no more—” 

Sevika takes pity on you, and her touch becomes gentle as she puts the phone in front of your face, her thumb hovering over the button to switch to a video call. You shriek and duck your head back into the pillow.

“Ohmygod Sev!” you protest, causing her to laugh and press a kiss to your shoulder before ending the call, tossing the phone aside. 

“Just messin’ with you, princess,” she hums, rubbing her hand soothingly through your hair before gripping at the roots, tugging your face up. “Now,” she sighs, slipping out of you and using her grip on your hair to guide you onto your back. You whimper in protest, feeling painfully empty as you pout up at her.

“What did I say about pouting, hm?” she scolds, tracing your bottom lip with her thumb. You blush under her stare, suddenly self-conscious without the distraction of the phone call. Her lip twitches into a grin as she slips her copper claws under your dress, scratching lightly at the soft fat of your torso. Your eyebrows turn upward, and your eyes close, mouth agape as you try to find words again. Sevika kisses at your jaw.

“Flattered you wore this just for me,” she coos, “but I wanna see you, honey,” she says softly, rubbing her hands up and down your sides before tugging up the hem of your dress. “Arms up, babygirl,” she instructs, slipping it up and off, immediately groaning at the sight of you, bra-less, left only in your underwear before her. Her lips are instantaneously on your neck, hands cupping your chest eagerly. 

“Missed you, baby—” she mutters into your throat. You wanted to deny her, to punish her in some way for ever leaving you in the first place, but you were too far gone, you just wanted to be close to her. Sevika slips your panties off before hiking your legs up around her hips, pressing her forehead to yours as she thrust back into you, moaning softly. Your arms come to wrap around her neck, burying your face into the dip of her shoulder. Sevika hums lowly at you clinging to her.

“M’sorry, angel,” she mumbles into your hair, kissing at your head as she fucks into you. You knew what she meant. She had clearly missed you too. 

“You– better be—” you choke out, your lower lip still puffed out slightly. Sevika moves to hold your throat, rubbing her thumb over your pulse before reaching down to roll one of your peaked nipples between her fingers, her hips snapping to you rhythmically.

“Fuck, baby—” she moans, “taking me so good— so good, angel,” she praises, moving to press two of her organic fingers against your plush lips.

“Open,” she commands. You don’t argue— your mouth parts and she slips her fingers into your mouth. “Suck,” she orders, pinching your other nipple before trailing her hand down between your legs, tapping on your clit several times as she watches you jerk from the stimulation from her prosthetic, the cold metal sending streams of isolated pleasure through you. 

She chuckles, bringing her lips to kiss at your neck—her hips were grinding into you, her thumb was on your clit, her flesh fingers were pumping in and out of your mouth, and you were seeing stars. Sevika sucks on the sensitive skin at the base of your throat, biting harshly, earning a muffled yelp from your full mouth, before laving at the spot with her tongue; soothing you. 

You paw at her shoulders, feeling overstimulated and too close to orgasm to speak, your eyes rolling as you mewl on her fingers. Sevika’s biting turns to kissing on your neck. 

“Close, hm?” she mutters against you, panting as she withdraws her fingers from your mouth, moving her right hand to work at your clit, pinching it suddenly when she pulls her metal digits up to hold you by the back of your head, tilting you so that you’re looking at her.

“You’re mine, understand me, angel?” she says firmly, drinking in the sight of you; disheveled hair, pink cheeks, mouth agape, and dilated pupils. You nod weakly, your back arching sporadically as you feel your orgasm cresting. 

She kisses your lips briefly before letting her head fall to your neck “Come for me, princess,” she encourages. “Need to feel my girl’s pretty pussy come for me,” she coos. 

Her words send you over, a strangled cry leaving your throat as you cling to her, legs trembling as your cunt clenches around her cock, your climax crashing over you; clit throbbing from Sevika’s attention. 

Sevika moans, biting down on your neck to ground herself as she continues to softly rut into you, letting you ride out your release. Her eyes flick up to stare in awe at how your lip trembles as you try to regulate your breathing. Her hips eventually still, and she releases your neck from her teeth, beginning to pepper kisses over your face, bringing both her hands to cup your cheeks. 

“My girl,” she mutters into your skin. You melt into her touch, mind still reeling from the fact that she had canceled your date in such an inflammatory way. She seems to pick up on your thoughts, and she laughs, nuzzling into your neck and sighing. 

“I’m not dumb enough to let you go twice… if you’ll still have me…” she murmurs, sounding much more vulnerable and much less cocky now. You smile, smirking softly as you scratch softly at her scalp. 

“I’ll always have you, Sev,” you reassure her, kissing her forehead. “And for the record…” you start, slyly, as she looks up at you, eyebrows raised.“I only bought this dress so you could take it off,” you say matter-of-factly. She lets out a breathy laugh, shaking her head affectionately as she pulls you into another kiss.

[cleo-fox]

Conquer

Part 3 of 5

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: The king intends to take a bride. You just never thought it would be you. (Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Chapter Summary: Loki proposes a challenge and your plan goes very awry.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Chapter Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, edging, teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, orgasm delay, semi-public sex, light Dom/sub, light bondage, sex toys, oral sex (see series masterlist for series warnings)

A/N: Woof, sorry for the delay on this chapter. It was surprisingly challenging to write and it took me a minute to figure it out. But it's here! Lemme know what you think!

Loki only calls you ‘wife’ when he has sex on his mind—he knows it gets you riled up.

He doesn’t usually break it out at the breakfast table, though.

“I’ve noticed something, wife.” His eyes are glittering in a way that always signals he’s up to no good.

You cross one leg over the other and try to keep your expression neutral, even as your stomach jumps and your heart beats just a little faster. “What’s that?”

His gaze sweeps along your legs, the corner of his mouth twitching like he has a direct line to your thoughts. “You are an enthusiastic participant in our marital relations, but you rely entirely on me to initiate them.”

He waits a beat and your stomach drops. In retrospect, it was a bit silly to think he wouldn’t notice this. Loki always notices.

“Now, why is that?” he continues.

It’s a question that you don’t particularly want to answer. You suspect that he knows this, based on the laughter dancing in his eyes. 

You clear your throat. “Maybe it’s because you unironically use phrases like ‘marital relations.’”

He taps a finger against his lips. “Interesting deflection.”

“It’s not a deflection.”

“You forget, my love, that I am the god of lies.”

You press your lips together and take a sip of water. “Have you considered that it’s maybe a little challenging being the soulmate of the guy who took over the planet?”

You expect him to be angry: you don’t expect the spectacular eye roll or the exaggerated sigh. “Are you really still upset about that?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Are you really going to pretend it wasn’t a big deal?”

“You can’t deny that things are much improved under my rule.” The way he says this suggests that he’s had a version of this conversation before. “Surely you’ve seen the statistics.”

“I’ve read your propaganda, yes,” you say, idly poking your fork at the fruit on your plate.

He scowls. “It’s not propaganda, it’s verifiable facts—” 

“Conveniently hand-picked by your PR team. That’s kind of telling, if you ask me.”

He takes a deep breath, like he’s about to go into a lengthy monologue that he’s tired of having to recite, but as he looks at your face, his expression slowly changes from annoyed to something more amused. “You’re goading me.”

You shrug. “I’m just calling it as I see it.”

“Lies do not become you, wife.” His expression is sharp, but there’s a hungry kind of approval in his gaze that makes your stomach flip. 

“I rather think you’re enjoying yourself, your majesty.”

You’ve only ever used his title sparingly—it’s his equivalent of calling you “wife” and it’s generally a surefire way to ensure that you end your conversation either underneath or on top of him.

For a moment, it seems like one of those outcomes might be in your immediate future—there’s a familiar glitter of hunger in his eyes as his gaze drops again to your legs. 

He licks his lips. “One of these days, I will put you over my knee and punish you the way that you deserve.”

An electric kind of desire crackles through you as you contemplate the logistics of letting him fuck you on the breakfast table.

“But not today.”

Your gaze snaps immediately to his. He smirks like he knows that you were expecting this conversation to go in a very different direction.

“Today I’d like to propose a little experiment,” he continues.

You regard him warily. “What sort of experiment?”

“As I mentioned earlier, the burden of initiating our physical relations has fallen entirely on me.” He takes a sip of his water. “I am putting that burden on you for today.”

“So, what—we’re not having sex unless I start it?”

“Precisely. And you’re going to have to tell me exactly what you want in order to get it.”

Your heart pounds hard against your ribs, but you try to look completely unaffected as desire and annoyance wage yet another war inside you. “And what if I don’t feel like playing your stupid games?”

“You will.” He says it confidently as he glances at the clock. “I’ve business to attend to.” His smile is entirely too sharp as he rises from his chair. “I trust you’ll keep yourself occupied.”

You bite back a scowl as he leaves you alone with your thoughts and a dull, persistent ache throbbing between your legs.

The trouble is that initiating sex means admitting you want him.

Granted, you have begged for him many times during sex. But it’s one thing to admit that you want him when he’s been edging you for the better part of an hour; it's something else to admit to wanting him without that specific kind of pressure as a motivating factor. It requires acknowledging a vulnerability, something you are all too reluctant to do around Loki.

At first, you think you’ll just give up sex for the day. Worst case scenario: there’s no sex. Slightly better case scenario: he gives in out of sheer desperation and you get to have sex without admitting you want him. The second scenario seems most likely—if you had to pit your sex drive against his, you would wager that his is higher. It’s simple. Easy.

Later, you will acknowledge that this was perhaps slightly delusional on your part.

The fact that you didn’t really take into account is that your body is expecting sex. You’ve been getting it on the daily—often multiple times in one day—since your wedding. It probably should have occurred to you that quitting cold turkey would not go well.

Unfortunately, that seems to be a lesson that the universe is determined to make you learn through experience.

It’s early afternoon when you start to realize that you’re going to need a different plan. The dull ache between your legs has not abated and has instead turned into the kind of specific ache that you know you’re not going to be able to take care of on your own.

And if this were any other time, Loki probably would have already found some way to get you alone and mostly undressed—his ability to pick up on these moods of yours is keen to an inconvenient degree.

But there’s no sign of him today.

You pace your room for a while. The ache between your legs persists and you know if you don’t do something about it, it’s only going to get worse.

A plan slowly emerges in the heady haze of your slowly increasing desire. You could probably goad him into getting you off once or twice—enough to bring your desire to something more manageable. It wouldn’t be the same as sex, so you wouldn’t be admitting to any kind of vulnerability and it would clear your head enough to give you time to figure out the rest of the day.

Later, you will acknowledge that this was a very poorly thought out plan and doomed to failure from the start. Right now, though, it seems like a fine idea.

You put on a dress that you know he likes—a flowing green thing that clings to your breasts and hips in an appealing way. You don’t bother with underwear. 

You’re not quite sure where he’s meeting or who’s in attendance, but that doesn’t worry you too much. You’ve found that your new status means that people don’t often question you, which makes it relatively easy to wander wherever you’d like.

You find him eventually in one of the rooms on the first floor, accompanied by an array of important looking people that you don’t recognize. His gaze finds you almost immediately, though he waits for a break in the conversation to address you.

“Darling, what a surprise.” The glimmer in his eyes tells you it is not at all a surprise.

“Sorry to interrupt.” You give the others an apologetic smile before glancing back at Loki. “I need to speak with you privately when you have a moment.”

“Of course, my love.” His eyes darken just a shade and your cunt pulses in a kind of answer. “Wait for me in the library and I’ll be with you shortly.”

You give him a perfunctory smile and stalk off to the library just a few doors down.

You can feel the slickness building between your legs, the muscles of your cunt flexing and aching in a blend of need and anticipation. There’s a couch by the window—that will suit your purposes well enough. You sit down and wait, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress.

You expect him to draw it out as long as possible, but he must be just as eager as you are because he strolls into the room five minutes later.

“What troubles you, darling?” His voice is gently mocking, his expression infuriatingly smug. He knows exactly why you’re here.

“Shut up,” you say through gritted teeth. “You know why I’m here, so let’s make it quick.”

“Oh, that’s not what we agreed on,” he purrs, eyes darkening with want as he approaches you. “You have to tell me what you want.”

As soon as he’s near enough, you tug him down to the couch and straddle his lap, guiding his hand up your skirt to your bare cunt. “I want you to make me come.”

You’re hoping that your boldness and lack of underwear will throw him off enough that he won’t notice that you’re being intentional with your wording and leaving yourself a very tidy out.

“Oh, darling, you’re soaking.” He drags his fingers along the length of your cunt, carefully circling your clit. “Poor thing, no wonder you’re so needy.” 

You sigh, your hips rolling with his hand. “More.”

“Needy and greedy,” he muses, sliding a finger inside you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I love it when you’re like this.”

He pulls you into a deep kiss, tongue pressing into your mouth, tangling with yours. You moan, rocking your hips against his hand as he slips a second finger inside you.

“You need me, don’t you?” he breathes against your lips. “No one else makes you feel like this. Even when you touch yourself, your fingers can’t quite reach this little spot the way I can.” His fingers curl, pressing hard against that soft, aching spot that has been throbbing all day. You keen, fingernails digging into the leather on his shoulders as your hips grind against his hand. 

“Yes, just like that,” you gasp. 

“You need me so badly that you can’t even manage a full day without my touch.” His thumb presses just a little harder on your clit. “And interrupting a meeting of global importance to beg me to fuck you in the library where anyone might walk in—”

You’re entering the final stretch right before your orgasm and you can tell that it’s going to be good—the pressure inside you is too intense for it not to be. 

And then Loki decides to up the ante.

“It just goes to show how much of a slut you are for my cock.”

It’s like trying to douse a fire with gasoline.

Loki’s fingers curl again and your mouth goes slack as you let out a low whimper. 

“I know that noise.” His smile is hungry. “You’re about to come for me.”

You nod, rolling your hips in time with the wave that’s rising within you.

“Let me hear you.” He leans in and nips sharply at your earlobe. “Scream for me.”

It’s like being hit by a hurricane. You are dimly aware that you’re moaning loud enough to be heard unless he’s been a gentleman and cast a silencing spell on the room, but your capacity to care about anything other than the euphoria flooding your entire nervous system is somewhere below zero.

“Such a good girl,” he purrs, as he works you through it. “So fucking filthy,”

You’d intended to make your exit quickly, but you didn’t bank on how good his fingers would feel or how easily he’d be able to coax you to another orgasm. You claw desperately at his chest, and he gives you a self-satisfied smirk.

“What? Another one so soon?” he says, his brow furrowing in mock concern. “Is your poor little cunt really so needy?”

“Don’t stop.” Your voice comes out in a whine, but you don’t care. You can’t care about anything other than the rising pressure in your hips and the way your clit is thrumming with pleasure.

“Oh, I’m not going to stop until I’ve thoroughly claimed this sweet cunt.”

“Yes. Fuck.” You hold your breath as your orgasm makes its final ascent.

“That’s it.” His eyes are shining. “Come for me.”

The second one hits you just as hard and then blends almost seamlessly into a third that makes stars burst behind your eyelids and your thighs tremble. You lean into him, gasping and panting as he murmurs more filthy praise in your ear.

But you snap back to reality when he reaches for the buttons of your dress. You need to move quickly if you want your plan to work and you know that if he manages to get his cock out, it’s all over for you.

“Shall I take you on the desk?” He slips the first button, staring greedily at the exposed skin. “Or against that window?”

Both options sound too appealing, but you’re not going to tell him that. You reluctantly pull away from him and stand on legs that are much too wobbly. Remember the plan. Focus.

For once in his life, Loki looks a little baffled.

“Well,” you say, making a rather sad attempt to straighten your dress. “Would you look at the time.”

His eyes narrow almost immediately. “What are you playing at?”

“Nothing,” you say brightly. “I just didn’t realize it was so late and I don’t want to keep you from your meeting.”

He catches on right away—you can tell from the glint in his eyes and the slight twitch of his lips. He seems conflicted about how he feels about it, though, which you’re not expecting. There’s annoyance, certainly—that was always a given—but there’s also a kind of hungry delight, almost like you’d surprised him a little.

Almost like he finds it…attractive.

You weren’t expecting that at all.

He stands slowly, his gaze traveling shamelessly up and down your body, bringing still more slickness to your cunt. 

“You may come to regret this little stunt, my love.” His voice is deadly soft and you’re reminded suddenly of a shark considering his prey. “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Perhaps you should have negotiated more favorable terms this morning.” Your voice is calm and cool, but there’s an inferno of desire blazing inside you.

“I think I will particularly enjoy silencing that smart mouth later tonight,” he says, eyeing the open button on your dress.

“If I allow it.” You smile sweetly at him as his expression darkens even further. “After all, you did put that burden on me for today, your majesty. And I did only say that I wanted you to make me come, which you have.”

The look that he gives you is lustful in a way you’ve never seen from him before. Your cunt clenches tightly around nothing and suddenly the relief that you’d just found from his fingers doesn’t seem anywhere near enough.

And if you don’t get out of here soon, your entire plan will go up in flames in favor of riding his cock until you both collapse.

“I’ll take my leave,” you say, buttoning your dress.

His gaze trails possessively over your body. “Yes, you’ll want to rest up—I suspect you’ll be begging me to claim my prize by the time I return to our rooms.”

“We’ll see.” There’s no conviction in your voice and you can tell that he hears it, so you turn quickly on your heel and leave with a mumbled goodbye before he can convince you to change your mind.

This entire episode has given you new insight into why Loki is like this as his default. The control is heady and intoxicating and your head fizzes like you’ve drunk too much champagne. You feel sexy and desirable. Powerful. You think of him quietly stewing away in his meeting downstairs, plagued by thoughts of you and trying to hide it from the others. You think of him storming upstairs, control fraying, his cock rock hard and aching for you. You think about what he’ll do to you as payback for leaving him wanting.

The entire purpose of this exercise was to find an outlet for your arousal and clear your head; instead, you find that you’re hornier than you were before the library.

Your entire plan has failed rather spectacularly, but you can’t convince yourself to be mad about it.

The hours pass slowly. You’re not sure if he’s intentionally delaying his return or if he’s genuinely busy—either way, it does you no favors. You try reading, but you end up rereading the same paragraph and thinking about sex instead of following the story. As afternoon fades into evening, you undress and don a silk robe. The fabric whispers against your skin, only heightening your arousal.

The sun is almost fully set when you hear the door open and the heavy tread of familiar boots on the floor. You stay seated on the couch, staring out the floor to ceiling window, waiting.

“I suppose you think you’re very clever.”

Goosebumps spring up along the column of your spine. His voice is low and stern, his presence already commanding. Slickness floods your cunt in anticipation. You slowly turn to face him, your chin tilted up in slight defiance.

“I consider it appropriate payback for the gala,” you say.

He raises an eyebrow as he continues to walk closer. “And do you recall how hard you came after the gala?”

You mirror his skeptical expression. “Then wouldn’t I be doing you a favor by teasing you like this if it means you come harder later?”

The look he gives you is intoxicating. “You are disobedient and impertinent.”

You smirk. “And you love it.”

“Not as much as I love putting you back in line.”

You stand and walk toward him, stopping a few inches away. “Then why don’t you?”

He chuckles low in his throat. “You know that’s not what we agreed to, my love. The move is yours.”

Privately, you’re delighted that he seems prepared to continue to play the game. 

“I didn’t take you to be so passive,” —you pause and lick your lips— “your majesty.”

Perhaps more extraordinary than the fire in his eyes is his stillness—save for the tight clench of his jaw and his sharp intake of breath, he is completely motionless as his eyes tell the story of a man who is barely holding himself back from his greatest desire.

“I’m a man of my word,” he says, finally.

You huff out a soft laugh. “Are you?” You lick your lips. “Perhaps I should test that.”

You pull the sash of your robe and let it fall from your shoulders to your feet in a heap. You stand in front of him, completely naked. His eyes devour you and his fingers flex against his thighs like he’s barely holding back from touching you.

“Still a man of your word?” you ask, your eyes wide and innocent.

The muscle in his jaw twitches. “Yes.”

You nod thoughtfully. “I see.”

And then you slowly sink to your knees.

You look up at him with wide eyes. “What about now?”

“Yes.” There’s a dark rasp in his voice and his fingers are tensed like claws against his thighs.

You’re getting to him. You love it.

You take your time undoing his trousers, letting your fingers graze against the hard length of his erection whenever the opportunity presents itself. You almost feel a little bad when you finally free his cock—he is desperately hard, the flushed and engorged tip already slick with precome.

“Oh, have you been like this all afternoon?” you say casually. “Poor thing.”

“Watch your tone,” he says sharply.

“I suppose that was rather inconsiderate of me to just leave you like that,” you muse, taking his cock in your hand and reveling in his sharp exhale and the way he throbs hot and hard as you begin to stroke him. “I didn’t realize you’d be so hard.”

“You are playing with fire, my love.” His voice is rough and husky with wanting.

“I don’t think it’s wrong to make you work for it.”

“You would dare to give orders to a king?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Am I not your queen?”

“My queen does not command me.”

Early on, you might have been intimidated by the hunger in his eyes and the sternness in his voice, but now you can’t help but find it arousing. Somewhere along the way, pushing him to his limit became like a drug and now you can’t get enough.

“And why not, your majesty?” you say, gently squeezing his shaft as you stroke him. “You tease me like this all the time. Isn't it only fair for me to have a turn?”

“I don’t need to justify myself. I’m king.” He says this with authority, but you can tell he’s fighting to keep his expression neutral. There’s a catch in his voice and his eyes flutter shut for a moment as his hips rock into your hand.

You look up at him again. “Perhaps you ought to,” you say. “Seeing as I’m currently holding your fate in my hands.”

He gives you a smirk that is entirely too confident for your liking. “I think you’re underestimating my resilience.”

You bring your lips up to the head of his cock, letting the very tip of your tongue brush against it. He inhales sharply.

“Am I?” you say, punctuating the question with a second featherlight kiss against his cock. “I’m not sure that you’ve considered all the tools I have at my disposal.”

He stares down at you imperiously and you return his look with wide, innocent eyes as you part your lips and take him into your mouth, slowly swirling your tongue around the head of his cock in a way that you know he enjoys. His fingers flex against his thighs and you hum as the sharp taste of his precome glides over your tongue.

“You are a wicked, disobedient tease,” he growls, one hand sliding down to cradle the back of your head. “And you don’t even care, do you? You just want to get those pretty lips around my cock.”

You draw back slightly to look up at him. “You could stand to be more flattering if you want me to let you come in my mouth.”

He chuckles, eyes darkening with want. “Is it not flattering to say that your mouth makes me forget myself?”

You press a kiss to the tip of his cock, letting your tongue flick against it, but not quite bringing him back into your mouth. “It’s a start.”

“You don’t know what effect you have on me, do you?” His hand strokes your cheek as you continue lazily kissing his cock.

“You certainly do your best to act annoyed with me.”

He laughs, a low, throaty sound. “Oh, half the fun of these little games are your attempts to outwit me. Chaos and schemes only add to my power, but when you are the perpetrator?” He gives you a long, hungry look. “That makes me rock hard.”

Your breath catches slightly as you stroke your tongue over the tip of his cock. “Keep talking.”

“I spent the rest of that meeting driven to utter distraction because I could not stop thinking about how good it was going to feel to sink my cock into your dripping cunt.”

You gently suck the tip of his cock into your mouth and release it. 

“And then I come back here and you mouth off at me, strip, and get on your knees to suck my cock.” He hisses slightly as you tease the head of his cock with the very tip of your tongue.

“Are you going to beg for me, Loki?” You press a soft kiss against his cock.

“A god doesn’t beg,” he says hoarsely. 

“But you could,” you say softly, teasing the tip of his cock again.

“You may force me to reconsider that notion, yes.”

“Do you want me to suck your cock, Loki?” you ask in that same soft voice. “Do you want to come in my mouth?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Yes.”

You intended to hold out for longer, but you didn’t expect him to say…well, any of that, really. And the other, less convenient reality is that your ability to deny yourself the pleasure of his body and touch is eroding well past the point of resistance. You’ve waited long enough. You want him.

You take his cock fully into your mouth and begin to move.

Loki groans, his eyes half lidded and lips parted as he looks down at you. “Fuck, you’re divine. I’m going to worship your cunt after this.”

You moan on his cock, widening your legs slightly. You slip your fingers between your legs, letting your index finger roll against your aching clit.

Loki stares down at you with a renewed hunger. “Are you touching yourself?”

You moan an affirmative, your fingers moving faster on your clit as you suck harder on his cock.

“Filthy girl.” His hand grips the back of your head, his hips jerking slightly. “After this, I’m going to make you come harder than you did after the gala. I’m going to make you come so hard you forget your own name.”

You moan again on his cock, flicking your tongue over the tip on every upstroke, making his grip on your head tighten. Your jaw starts to ache after a few minutes, but the little noises he’s making are so worth it. Your cunt keeps getting slicker and slicker under your fingers and you feel yourself starting to edge closer to your own end.

“Fuck.” Loki is panting, his composure completely lost. “If you keep—fuck—I’m so fucking close—”

You could be cruel and make him wait, but he’s so beautiful with his head thrown back and his green eyes fluttering shut against the wave of pleasure you’re building for him that you can’t help but want to give him everything. You hollow your cheeks and take him as deep as you can.

His hand tightens against your scalp and he groans deeply as his hot release fills your mouth. You swallow it greedily, slowing to a halt.

The moment you take your mouth off his cock, he’s pulling you to your feet and holding you flush against him, his mouth covering yours in a deep and slow kiss.

Something about kissing him seems to emphasize the building need of your own body. “Fuck me, Loki.” You breathe your plea against his lips, twining your fingers in his hair. “I need you.”

To his credit, he only smirks a little before sweeping you into his arms and carrying you purposefully toward the bed.

He sets you down on the bed and you expect him to follow you immediately, pressing his body against yours. Instead, invisible bonds curl around your wrists and ankles, gently tugging until you’re spread eagled on the bed. You barely repress a shiver as he kneels next to you. He means business and historically, that’s always ended quite well for you.

There’s a flash of green and a slim vibrator materializes in his hands. He runs the head of it gently along your exposed cunt, pausing just above your clit.

And it’s not until you feel the same invisible bonds wind around your hips to hold the vibrator in place that you realize that this is not going the way you thought.

As though he can read your thoughts, Loki glances at the clock. “Oh, dear, is that really the time?” he says lazily, his mouth curling into a sly smile.

“You wouldn’t,” you say, your heart pounding hard because of course he would.

“I’m afraid I can’t miss this meeting. Shouldn’t be more than an hour, though.”

“Loki—”

He clicks his fingers and the vibrator hums to life, close enough to your clit to stoke the flames of desire, but not close or strong enough to get you over the edge.

“I hate you,” you groan, rocking your hips up, searching for relief. “You are the worst.”

“Oh, I certainly hope your attitude improves by the time I return,” he tuts as he tucks his cock back into his trousers. “It’d be a shame if you had to wait even longer.”

“You said you liked it when I tried to outwit you.”

He chuckles, leaning in close enough to kiss you. “I do. I like seeing how clever you are and I love carrying out consequences.”

You scowl. “You’re awful.”

He smirks and kisses you, drawing back before you can try to pull him deeper. “Be good. I’ve heard that good things come to those who wait.”

“Loki—”

He casts one last smug look at you before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

He’s gone for a little over an hour, but it feels like an eternity.

The vibrator is enough to keep you wet and aching, but not enough to get you off. The bonds are comfortable, but there doesn’t seem to be any give that would allow you to wiggle out or adjust the vibrator, no matter how much you writhe against the mattress. Sometimes, the intensity seems to increase just slightly and you thrust your hips forward, trying to get more, only to have it diminish just as quickly.

It’s agonizing, certainly, but you know that the payoff is going to be nothing short of spectacular. And privately…you kind of like it, though you’ll never admit that to him.

You’re not quite sure if you should act relieved or annoyed when Loki returns, so you end up settling on a strange combination of both when the door finally clicks open and he walks in smirking.

“Well,” he says far too brightly for your liking, “have you learned your lesson?”  

“Yeah, to check your schedule before I try something like that again,” you say before you can really think it through.

He tuts, lips pursing as he frowns. “Ooh, there’s that attitude again. Shall I leave you for another hour?”

You shut your mouth and look away, not quite able to hide your scowl. “No.”

He chuckles. “I thought so.”

He sits down on the bed next to you and runs his fingers along your cunt, his smile turning wicked.  “I see that you enjoyed the little toy. You’re so much wetter than when I left you.”

Your scowl deepens. “Because you’ve been teasing me for an hour!”

“Teasing you?” He scoffs. “Nonsense. I left it running for an hour, you should be quite satisfied.”

“You know full well that you left it on the lowest speed and barely touching my clit.”

His eyes glimmer in the way that they often do when you've strolled right into his trap. “Ah, I see. So you needed something a little more like this.”

He places the vibrator firmly against your clit and the faint hum suddenly accelerates to a steady, throbbing pulse that immediately draws a strangled moan from your throat.

“And perhaps a little of this—” He slides two fingers inside of you and your eyes roll to the back of your head at the intense sensation.

“Oh fuck.” Any notion you had of acting aloof and cool has evaporated. Your body warms to him too quickly, too naturally. A casual stroke of his fingers has you arching into his touch, a whimper trapped in your throat.

“Oh dear,” he says, almost nonchalantly. “You seem to be reacting quite strongly. Are you sure I should continue?”

“Please don’t stop.” You say it all in a rush, like it’s one long word.

“Don’t stop?”

“Don’t stop. Please.” You whimper, your hips rolling so that your clit rubs right against the vibrator. Loki’s fingers curl and you arch as something completely unintelligible comes out of your mouth.

“You need this. You’ve needed this all day.” His eyes shine as his fingers thrust faster. “But not as much as you need my cock. You’re desperate for my cock.”

You nod, half lost to pleasure.

“You’ve been such a tease. Such a fucking brat.” The vibrator’s speed increases and you whine. “I ought to punish you, remind you who’s in charge. Make you get on your knees and beg and still leave you wanting for release.”

You whimper, now so deliciously close that you’re starting to shake.

“Luckily for you,” he says, “I have been thinking of you coming all over my cock for hours. So instead of leaving you wanting, I’m going to fuck you until you’ve milked every drop from my cock and you’re going to take it all like a good girl.” His eyes darken. “Now come for me before I change my mind.”

You don’t need to be told twice—you barely need to be told once. The muscles of your cunt flutter against his thrusting fingers and then your orgasm unfurls.

It’s spectacular, setting off a chain reaction of pleasure on every nerve ending, your body shaking as you cry out.

“There you go.” His gaze is hungry, roving over your body, the god of your undoing. He presses the vibrator just a little harder against your clit and you feel that familiar ache stir again just below your belly.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe.

“You’re going to come again, aren’t you?” He’s smirking, but there’s a flicker of awe in his expression, like he can’t quite believe his luck. “Once wasn’t enough for you. You need to come again like the greedy little slut that you are.”

The sparks inside you are fluttering and flickering again, until they catch and send you soaring back into the stratosphere. Your back bows and you cry out as you come.

You’re still shaking when he crawls between your legs moments later, peppering your thighs with messy kisses and spreading your cunt open. The bonds on your wrists and ankles release the moment his mouth touches your cunt and you bury your hands in his hair. You moan as he circles and sucks at your clit and his fingers thrust inside of you.

You look at him nestled between your legs, eyes glazed with desire and it almost sends you over the edge. 

“God, I love your mouth,” you blurt out before you can think about it. “You’re so good at this, it feels so fucking good—”

You’re not sure if it’s the praise or his talent, but the moment you say that, your orgasm begins to crest.

“Fuck, Loki. Fuck, I’m gonna—oh fuck.”

It bursts like a firework and courses through your body like liquid gold, somehow simultaneously frantic and leisurely. You’re dimly aware that you’re moaning with every shuddering roll of your body, praising his mouth and tongue in a way that you know will embarrass you later.

“I told you it would be worth it,” he says after he coaxes the last shudder from you a few minutes later. “I don’t think I’ve heard you scream like that before.”

You don’t even bother opening your eyes. “Bragging is an unattractive quality.”

He tuts. “There’s that attitude again. You know, you’re lucky I didn’t deny you after all your teasing and backtalk.”

You look up at him, eyes hazy. “You like making me come too much to follow through on that.”

He chuckles darkly. “That mouth is going to get you in trouble, wife.”

Sated as you are, the name still lights that spark in your belly. “If you say so, your majesty.”

Within seconds, he’s on you, mouth plundering yours. Your hands fumble with the buckles and clasps on his clothes.

“Help me out,” you say, shoving his surcoat off his shoulders. 

“What was it you said earlier?” He smirks and rolls you both over so he’s on his back. “Ah, yes: work for it.”

You scowl and tug at the fabric. You could just undo his belt and take out his cock, but it’s not enough. You need to feel all of him, need the heat of his skin on yours as he presses inside you.

“You are such an ass.” You yank his shirt over his head.

He laughs. “You want me so badly, you’re shaking.”

He’s right, but you’re not going to concede it. “You want me just as bad. You’ve been holding back from me all day and you can’t stand it. You're desperate to be inside me.

His gaze darkens, but he flicks his wrist and you feel the fabric vanish beneath you.

“Well played, wife,” he says, propping himself up against the headboard. “Now ride me and show me why you deserve to come on my cock.”

You straddle his lap, guiding him to your entrance. “Oh, stop it. We both know you fucking love it when I come on your cock.”

You sink down on him and you both groan. After an extended day of teasing and delays, he cock feels like it’s pressing against every aching part inside of you, soothing a need you’ve felt all day. He nuzzles his face against your neck, nipping at the tender skin of your pulse point. His hands map the expanse of your back and skim down your hips to squeeze your ass.

His hips rock incrementally against you. He wants you to move, to fuck him, and for a moment, you feel drunk on the power.

You brace your hands on his shoulders and raise yourself up on his cock before sinking back down. Your pace is glacial, designed to tease, to drive him wild.

But on the third stroke, he smacks your ass, eyes blazing. “I said ride me.”

It sets off something inside you and you increase your pace before you can second guess it. You catch a glimpse of a feral smile before he pulls you into a rough kiss as you sink back down on him. Your teeth bump against his and you nip hard at his lower lip, which only seems to egg him on.

You’re supposed to be riding him, but his hips are driving up into you just as hard, his firm grip urging you on. Your head tips back as the pressure inside you continues to build. His head dips to your neck, teeth scraping along your collarbone and then down to your breast. He laves his tongue over your nipple and it plucks at the winding coil of pleasure in your hips, your cunt squeezing tighter and tighter on his cock. You whimper and he takes the bud of your nipple between his teeth and tugs ever so slightly.

Your cunt clenches as you creep closer to the edge. He lets out a sharp breath through his teeth as he starts approaching his own end.

“Fuck—”

With a snarl, he flips you to your back in one fluid motion, draping your legs over his broad shoulders. His pace turns rough and a little frantic but he’s hitting a spot that makes your toes curl and your pleas turn even more desperate.

“Fuck—please, please, please—”

His eyes are wild. “Show me what I’ve been missing all day. Let me feel you come. Soak my cock like a good girl.”

His fingers find your clit and suddenly, the rising sensation within you is blossoming into something more akin to a supernova. His hips snap hard against you and the feeling inside you swells and then shatters.

You are vaguely aware that you’re shouting his name as you quake in his arms and your cunt clenches around his cock. Loki moans above you, his jaw going slack and his brow furrowing, his pace slowing slightly like he’s trying to hold back, trying to make it last.

But another wave rolls through you and he shudders and before you can think about it, you’re slipping your legs off his shoulders and around his waist so you can pull him close.

“Come for me.” You whisper it like it’s a secret and he kisses you like he hears. His hips snap hard against you and then he’s kissing you in between Asgardian words you don’t recognize and words that might be your name until it all dissolves into a long groan that he breathes against your lips as he comes so hard that he shakes.

It’s a long moment before he finally eases out and tonight he gives you a long and lingering kiss before he does. Your legs shake as you lie panting on the bed, listening to him shuffle around the room. He must be getting ready for bed. 

You always hate this part. It’s not that you expect or even want affection from him, but sometimes it seems so…businesslike, so transactional. Surely it’s not strange to wish it could be something more, even though it can’t be.

“Sit up.”

You turn your head to look at him, fully prepared to lay into him for telling you what to do, but instead, you find him standing at the side of the bed with a full glass of water.

Something inside you softens just a little. 

“Oh, I’m okay,” you say. “It was just really intense.”

He gives you a dry look. “Humor me.”

Any other time, you might have shot back a sarcastic reply, but there’s something strangely disarming about seeing him standing there buck naked and offering you water. And maybe that little ache of loneliness you felt earlier has made you a little soft. 

You sit up and take the glass from him. “Thanks.”

He sits down next to you on the edge of the bed. “I’ve sent for dinner as well,” he says, absently tracing a finger along your spine. “It’s quite late.”

You take a sip of water. “Do I have to get out of bed for it?”

“So long as you keep the crumbs to your side.”

You wave your hand at him. “You can magic them away.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not a circus pony.”

You give him a dry look. “What’s the point of having magic if you can’t use it to spoil your wife?”

He chuckles and presses a kiss against your shoulder. “Have I not spoiled you enough already today?”

“That stunt with the vibrator was pretty rude.”

He scoffs. “No more rude than getting off on my fingers and leaving me in a meeting for four hours.”

You lean against him and he drapes an arm around your waist. “You of all people should know that turnabout is fair play.”

You’re teasing each other, you realize. It strikes you as a quaintly domestic scene—a couple tangled up together and talking after sex. It’s…kind of nice, in an odd way. 

Almost normal.

Much later, when he’s curled up behind you in bed and the lights are out, he asks a question that you suspect has been on his mind all evening: “What did you think of our experiment?”

You know there’s a reason why he waited until now to ask you this. You can hear it in the careful way he’s asking, how he’s trying to hide that little note of hope.

The urge to be sarcastic or sharp is suspiciously absent.

“Well,” you say, letting the word hang there in the dark for just a moment. “My legs still feel like jello. Kind of hard to argue with those results.”

It’s only when you feel him relax that you realize he was bracing himself for something sharper. The thought stops you. You’d never thought anything you said mattered to him like that.

“Perhaps it’s an experiment we ought to repeat.” He says it casually, but there’s a subtle note of hope that sparks a strange feeling of sympathy.

You nod before you can talk yourself out of it. “Yeah.” The silence prickles at you in a way it never has before. “Maybe Tuesdays, if that works?”

He’s trying to hide it, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “As her majesty commands.”

Next chapter coming soon

[puck-luck]

a lesson in control | trevor zegras

warnings: daddy kink. HEAVY daddy kink. m!dom, f!sub dynamics. kneeling, throat training, face-fucking, degradation and praise, use of the word slut (twice? three times?), masturbation, VIDEOING oneself masturbating, sexting but it's one sided, locker room traditions in hockey being slightly misogynistic ("boys will be boys" hey what?), dirty talk, references to squirting, overstim, orgasm denial, face slapping ONE TIME, crawling, exhibitionism, spanking. THERE ARE PROBABLY MORE THINGS THAT I MISSED. SRY. i think i got everything else tho

summary: after breaking one of daddy's rules, tz reminds you who you belong to.

wc: 3862

“Do you think this is fucking funny?” Trevor snaps, crashing through the front door and throwing his gym bag to the side. “Sending me that shit while I’m at the gym with the team?”

He’s not exactly giving you the reaction you expected. You’d sent him that video during his workout on purpose, knowing that it would rile Trevor up and result in the fucking that you have been wanting since he left the house this morning. The thought of him all sweaty and lifting heavy weights, muscles bulging, had you all riled up. It’s only fair that he experienced the same thing– even if it meant you broke one of Trevor’s rules.

There are only three. 

If you misbehave or act bratty, Trevor gets to decide your punishment.

Don’t touch yourself without Trevor’s permission.

When you’re in a scene, you have to call Trevor ‘Daddy.’

So you might’ve broken two of Trevor’s three rules. 

The video had been worth it, though. Seeing his girlfriend spread out on the bed, two fingers buried in her cunt and whimpering for her Daddy? Forget it. You know that Trevor will go back and look at it during roadies, imagining that it’s your hand around his cock instead of his own. He may even memorize it so that he can close his eyes and pretend his hand is your pussy, wet and slick just for him. 

Which, to be fair, it always is. 

Unable to hold back a smirk, you blink up at Trevor from your spot on the couch. “Sorry, Daddy,” you apologize sweetly.

Trevor hasn’t stopped moving since he entered the apartment, so he’s easily able to reach out and wrap his fingers around your neck, squeezing slightly. “You’re sorry,” he repeats sarcastically, voice dripping with doubt. “You’re going to be by the time we’re done.”

His first kiss is harsh and angry. Trevor bites over your bottom lip before he forces his tongue into your mouth, filling the space and effectively gagging you before you can make much noise. Trevor draws you up from the couch and walks as he kisses you, eventually pushing you up against the wall of the living room. 

The thing you like most about the living room is that the wall has a beautiful section of windows that reveal the view. 

The glass also feels incredibly cold against your body, a welcome contrast against Trevor’s impatient hands. He’s tugging your leggings down already, pushing them to the middle of your thighs before he draws your sweatshirt up and removes it completely, leaving your top half entirely bare. Your nipples harden when exposed to the air– which makes them an easy first target for Trevor. 

“Keep stripping,” he commands lowly before grasping your tits in his palms. “I want you naked.”

Eager to comply, you nod. “Yes, Daddy,” you say breathlessly. 

He manages to keep a hold on your breasts as you move around, shedding your leggings and panties as quickly as you can. Trevor pinches your nipples hard. “You’ve been bad,” Trevor tells you. “What happens when you’re bad?”

“You punish me,” you reply. 

“That’s right,” Trevor says, a proud smile tugging at his lips. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s clear that he’s plotting something already and enjoying the visual in his mind. “Bad girls get punished. Who gets to decide the punishment, sweetheart?”

“You do,” you say. There’s a slight pause before you can muster up his title in a tone that reflects what he called you– sweetly adding, “Daddy.”

“Smart girl,” Trevor praises before planting a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. He reluctantly takes his hands from your chest and brings them to his sides. He takes a step back. His eyes turn almost mournful, pitying you. “Smart, but bad. Daddy has to teach you a lesson, huh?”

You nod, keeping your hands at your own sides even though you itch to cover yourself up. You’re fully exposed and Trevor is completely clothed. Humiliation creeps up your neck like a blush. That feeling has yet to go away, even though Trevor has been domming you all throughout your relationship.

Trevor smirks again, his face contorting. It’s fascinating how Trevor can jump from emotion to emotion. He settles into his role seamlessly every single time, using his tone and inflections and expressions to manipulate you and remind you why he’s the one in charge. He tilts his chin up, quirking his eyebrows. “On your knees.”

You drop down, the hardwood floor digging into your knees uncomfortably. “How long?” you ask. Normally, Trevor gives you a timeframe. It keeps you grounded. 

The smirk on Trevor’s face grows. “As long as I want.” He holds a finger to his lips, a reminder that you aren’t supposed to talk to him when you’re on your knees. You’re something pretty for him to look at when you’re on your knees. It’s one of the ways that Trevor asserts his dominance over you. His evaluating gaze always makes you shiver.

Today, though, Trevor leaves the room. You can hear the shower start, then you hear Trevor step inside. Occasionally, you catch snippets of his hums and the song he’s singing. Since you can’t hear him all the time, you can’t estimate how long you’ve been kneeling. Your knees have been aching from the second you dropped down, so there’s no gradual pain to use as a timer either. 

Just to spite you, Trevor makes sure his shower runs long, too. He’s sure to tell you that when he returns.

“Sorry, baby,” Trevor says, ruffling his damp hair before collapsing on the couch and spreading his knees wide. Your eyes fall to his bulge, half-hard and covered by, but clearly unrestrained within, his Boston University sweatpants. He bounces one of his knees, the fabric covering his groin shifting with the movement. “Lost track of time in the shower. You know something about touching yourself, don’t you? It can be very distracting.”

Your eyes are wide when they snap to his face. Trevor looks smug. He throws his arms over the back of the couch and cocks his head at you, as if he’s catching you in the act of checking him out… as if you’d be embarrassed by something like that. Humiliation might raise the hairs on the back of your neck, but you never feel ashamed or sheepish when Trevor catches you looking at him. He’s sexy.

“You were very pretty in that video, baby,” Trevor says at a normal volume, as if you’re having a nonchalant conversation.”Really. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

This is the reaction you were looking for when he came in– the slow, methodical domination that Trevor normally defaults to instead of the angry, reactive domination that appeared when he stormed through the front door. You want to shift to relieve your knees slightly, but Trevor will only add something else to your punishment if you do. You merely blink at him, a breath leaving you through your parted lips.

Trevor brings a hand to his mouth and rubs over his lips, sighing. “But… well, you know what happens when one of the boys gets a text from his girlfriend during a workout.”

You do. That was part of the motivation. Trevor doesn’t like to share, but he likes to brag. There’s a very delicate balance there and you knew what you had to do to make Trevor angry. If one of Trevor’s teammates sees that another teammates’ partner texted them, then the original teammate is allowed to look at that text.

“So imagine my surprise when I open my phone and McTavish sees my baby coming all over her fingers, asking for her Daddy.” Trevor sneers when he says Mason’s name, even though you know he’s glad it wasn’t another teammate, one that doesn’t already know about your sex life. 

A question arises in the back of your throat. It’s a heavy lump, hard to swallow, yet… you’re not allowed to speak like this.

Trevor becomes even more smug as he watches you remember that fact. It’s not really an official rule, but Trevor prefers it, and you want to be good for him. He’s pleased when you snap your lips shut and blink at him. “Don’t worry, little one. He couldn’t hear you. I had my headphones in. Good thing, too– I wouldn’t want anyone to hear how pretty you sound when you need Daddy.”

Your breath catches in your throat, but not because of the lump that rose up only moments ago. That disappeared when Trevor answered your question without even trying, like he can read your mind. No, your breath catches because he answered your question in the sexiest way possible.

God, you love when Trevor becomes Daddy.

Trevor tilts his head down, his gaze dark and prodding. It washes over you like an actual touch from your boyfriend. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself without asking me,” Trevor says. His voice becomes more and more like a simper as he continues to speak. “But you couldn’t wait for me, huh? Couldn’t even take the time to ask before you got all wet and needed to be full? What had you so worked up?” 

Sweat, arm veins, a natural musk, endorphins…

“Did you have a dream about my cock? I know you’d said you were sleepy before I went to the gym and that you’d try to take a nap while I’m gone.” Trevor nods to himself. “That must have been it. You woke up all empty after being so full. Poor girl just needs her Daddy.”

Hearing Trevor talk in the third person has you clenching down on nothing, suddenly feeling very empty. That’s not what actually had you worked up, but now… maybe Trevor’s right. It would drive you crazy to be so empty after experiencing Trevor’s cock. To have his length stuffed inside of you, filling you out, and then nothing? Oh, you’d die.

“Let me give you my cock, then,” Trevor says. He spreads his legs just an inch wider and beckons you with a curled finger. “C’mere, baby.”

Your knees feel ready to creak as you move to stand. You get one knee up before Trevor starts to shake his head and you freeze.

He holds his palm up flat, stopping you before you can stand. Trevor snickers. “Nuh-uh, I don’t think so,” he corrects, chuckling. “Do bad girls get to walk to Daddy? Stay on your knees.”

You blink up at him, cheeks growing warm at the thought of crawling to him. It’s so demeaning, but God it’s hot. You’d be kneeling right between his thighs at the end and you know what comes from that position.

Something Trevor started when you were just starting this dom/sub thing was throat training. Trevor knew you liked to have his hand around your neck, causing you to go short of breath. He applied the same logic and asked if you’d like to hold his cock in your mouth for a long time. You’d tried it, and it was fine, and it sparked a second idea. Trevor wanted your throat to hold him perfectly, for your mouth to be ready for him to take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Now, he can fuck your face whenever he wants.

He can take whatever he wants.

You lower yourself down again, back onto two knees. Then, you lean forward, one hand a bit further than the other. You shift the opposite knee forward in a hesitant step, eyes rapt on Trevor. 

“That’s my girl,” Trevor coos, his stare raking over your figure. “Come get Daddy’s cock. I’ll fill you up.”

Another step, then a third. You’re moving to Trevor like he’s reeling you in, the tension taut as fishing line between your bodies. 

Trevor’s quick to drag himself out of his sweatpants. Your mouth is already open, accepting  whatever he gives you with a slack jaw. He fills you until his tip bumps the back of your esophagus, then he withdraws. 

You breathe through your nose and gag at all the right times, feeling the precum from Trevor’s cock mix with your saliva and drip down your throat with each swallow.

Trevor uses you for what he needs. He draws your head up and down on his cock, his hips occasionally twitching and thrusting like they have a mind of their own. “You know what’s– shit– you know what’s funny, baby?” Trevor asks, clearly affected by your touch and itching to regain control.

You hum around his cock, eyes drifting to his face. They’re shining with tears from all of your gagging around his base and Trevor curses again.

“Fuck, so pretty,” he says, taking the hand still thrown over the back of the couch and using his fingers to wipe away the tracks on your cheeks. “You’re so good at taking my cock, sweetheart. Making me feel so good.”

The hand on the back of your head grips your hair and rips you from his cock. 

You’re nearly eye to eye with Trevor, whose mirthful smile means trouble. 

“I’m going to come in your pussy.” Trevor’s voice is a near whisper. “And you won’t come at all.”

“What?” You demand with a jolt, caught off guard by his statement and forgetting your manners. 

Trevor’s hand strikes your cheek, branding your skin with the heated echo of his touch.

You’re stunned silent, jaw dropped and mouth open. 

Trevor caresses the hollow pocket of surprise on your face with his thumb. Trevor smiles down at you. “Daddy wants you to be quiet when you’re on your knees, baby, don’t you remember?”

You stare blankly at him. 

He continues to pet over your face, admiring your glossy eyes and rosy cheeks. His eyes even roam to your hair, a flicker of pride passing through his expression. He fixes a piece of hair, then taps your head. He quotes the short list of rules by which you abide. “Don’t touch yourself without my permission.”

You breathe in, preparing for him to continue. He taps your cheek and waits for you to nod. You do, after a moment. 

Trevor guides your head back down, towards his cock. “Then what?” He asks.

You open your mouth a little wider, spit pooling at the thought of licking up the precum that leaked from his cock while you were recovering from his slap. 

Trevor laughs, bringing your head to his tip and making the length jump between your lips. “If you misbehave or act bratty, Daddy gets to decide your punishment.” He brings your mouth down a little further, cock sliding against the flat of your tongue. 

The taste makes you feel like you’ve gone cross-eyed, relaxing into his touch. Sliding back into the throat training routine you’d created over the months, your head grows a little fuzzier and your body feels a little lighter.

Trevor pulls away again.

You don’t snap at him, but your eyes fall into sharp focus on his face. 

“Who am I, baby?” Trevor asks, winking at you. His mouth forms a proud curve.

“Daddy,” you reply, voice ruined from disuse. 

Trevor likes that. You can see how his jaw subtly twitches, tensing up. “Are you gonna let Daddy fuck your pussy right here?” He asks, then his eyes go over your shoulder. “For anyone to see?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you breathe out, sounding rough and awed at the same time. “Please, Daddy. Fuck me against the window.”

The smile that encompasses Trevor is purely rueful pride. How easily he can ruin you. “Because you want the world to see that you’re Daddy’s,” Trevor assumes, feeding you the words like they’re fact. 

You sear them into your memory. He’s right. Who else can do something like this to you? To you, what Trevor says is gospel.

“That’s why you sent that video,” he continues. He’s all-knowing. Smug, even. “You needed Daddy to remind you that you’re his little slut, right?”

All this nodding has you feeling like a bobblehead.

Trevor helps you stand, touching your hips and backing you towards the window. At the last second, he spins you around and presses your front against the glass.

“For everyone to see?” Trevor checks again, his voice soft for a second. God, he’s perfect. He’s the right amount of concerned, without leaving much room for argument. He’s still in charge here. He’s still punishing you.

You don’t even get to come, but you don’t care. You just want to feel him leaking from your cunt. Instead of kneeling again, you’ll stay like this if he wants you to, presented like an art exhibit for him to study.

You moan in relief as soon as his tip breaches your hole, bare and throbbing as he inches forward. He allows himself to thrust shallowly, stimulating his tip and denying you the full pleasure of his cock. 

Even still, you’re a mess.

Then he brings his hand down on your ass cheek, much harder than he’d slapped your face. Instinctively, you clench around him and your head droops. The glass window cools the skin of your forehead.

You’re not silent by any means. It’s like you’re unable to silence yourself– a broken dam. With each shallow thrust and each slap to your behind, Trevor makes you feel so good that you feel like you’re crumbling into dust.

“You gonna take my whole cock like you wanted to?” Trevor probes, kicking your legs a bit wider and pressing you into the glass. Your nipples are squished against the surface, restricting your movements. Trevor crowds against you, body warm and solid behind you. “Like you tried to pretend in that little video? When you whimpered and cried because your little fingers weren’t a match for my cock?”

“Daddy,” you whimper, a mirror image of yourself just hours earlier. You’re humming out the same soft pleas that spur Trevor on, that convince him to chase his pleasure.

“That’s right, baby,” Trevor praises. “Daddy’s cock, making you feel good, just like you wanted?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes…”

Trevor spanks you again, the burning sensation of impact marking your body. “Why do you ever act up, sweetheart? I could’ve been fucking you like this all nice and making you come if you’d just asked me for permission,” Trevor simpers, teasing you. He speaks like it’s a big, heavy burden on him, this choice to deny your orgasm. He wants to give you an orgasm– a mind shattering, leg-numbing, shaking and squirting orgasm– but you just had to be bad. 

“Of course I’d make you ask again,” Trevor continues, his half-thrusts pointed. “You’d have to show me again how good you can be. You know I like to see my good girl.”

A strangled noise falls from your lips, landing on the floor like a bowling ball. Trevor knocks the wind out of you sometimes with his words.

“I want to show you what it would be like,” Trevor says. “Ask me, baby. I want to hear your sweet voice beg Daddy to come.”

Finding your voice and losing control of it like a helium balloon, you’re able to gasp out exactly what Trevor asks, thinking maybe, maybe if you’re good enough now, he’ll let you come now, too. “It’s so good, Daddy, I always need your cock,” you say between moans. “I never stop thinking about it. So good, please, Daddy. I need to come, I need to show you how good I feel, please let me come.”

Trevor moans and nudges his nose against the top of your spine as you speak. His seed flows from his body and fills yours in the midst of your testimony, the low and fucked-out grunts from Trevor making you that much more desperate and teary to come. His cum settles inside of you, warm and as good as godly nectar, in your mind. 

“I’d come, just like that,” Trevor tells you, speaking slowly. His voice is gravely like it is when he first wakes up. He presses kiss after kiss to your spine, working lower and slightly withdrawing from your heat. “And then I’d tell you that you can come…”

Just when you think he’s going to shift back into you, his length sheathed inside of you so much that your pussy brushes against his pelvis, and fuck you until you do exactly that–

Trevor’s softening penis leaves your pussy. He shifts his hips even further back, then touches your sides to spin you back around. He faces you and brings his hands up to cradle your face. With a devilish, con-man-like smile, Trevor stands his ground. “This is mine,” he reminds you. His blunt fingertips collect some of the cum that has started to slide down your thighs, unable to escape gravity. Trevor lifts his fingers to your mouth, the wet slick brushing against your lips. He makes no move to push past your teeth and press down on your tongue. He’s just dangling a carrot in front of your face, further reinforcing his control over you. 

“Yours,” you agree.

A grin plays over Trevor’s face. “Good. You just broke the rules to get Daddy’s attention. You needed Daddy to take care of you.”

You helplessly nod, preening under his touch.

“You’ve got my attention now, baby,” Trevor assures you. “And to prove it to you, we’re going to do one last thing. I’m going to sit on the couch and look at you, pretty girl. You’re going to kneel right here and let the cum drip out of you until you’re empty.”

You blink at him, feeling lightheaded. That’s before he paints his cum over your lips and ponders, “Kneeling in a puddle of my cum, you really are a slut.” 

A gush of his seed seems to leave you at the demeaning nickname. You clench again to keep it inside– what Daddy wants, Daddy gets. It can pool beneath you as your knees dig into the floorboards and bruise.

“Daddy’s little cumslut,” Trevor says with a chuckle. He shakes his head and backs away from you, returning to the couch and manspreading. He pushes his sweats all the way down to mid-calf, revealing his thick thighs and pretty cock entirely. “I should put that on a shirt and have you record that video again for me.” He wraps his hand around his soft cock, fisting it like he’s going to start pumping over the skin at any moment. “With your hard nipples poking through the fabric and those pretty words of yours, begging for your Daddy to satisfy you the way that you need.”

You drop to your knees and clasp your hands behind your back, hovering only slightly above the floor and only parting your lips to breathe. After all, you’re on your knees again, so you have to listen to Daddy speak.

“Or on FaceTime for our next roadie,” Trevor decides, evidenced by the way his cheeks dimple. “Yeah, baby, we’ll see how desperate you can get before I let you come. This time, you’re going to be so good that I make you come until the sheets are completely soaked.”

[sp4ceboo]

Within the Storms of Giedi Prime: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: the long awaited part two of upon the sands of the arena is hereeee

tw: 18+, smut (more than last time hehehe), p in v, swearing, Feels™, death, assassination, use of the Voice (not on feyd), less violence but still violence, i lack faith in my sequel writing abilities, blowjobs, SUB FEYDDDD, also DOM FEYDDD, sex Outside, lightning and thunder (it says storms in the title what do you expect)

wc: 4.2k

part 1

Giedi Prime is a miserable planet.

It’s evident in the choking, black smog from the factories in the dense air fused with the anguished cries of overworked slaves and the distant rumble of the still active volcanos. You’re near the Harkonnen’s palace grounds - you’re heading towards them, actually, and the promise of a… pleasant night; to your left, you can just about glimpse the looming silhouette of the great arena, squatting like a hulking beast on the horizon, waiting to swallow any poor soul that gets too close to its gaping maw.

Tonight, roiling storm clouds reign the sky, sending sheets of furious rain pounding down upon anyone who dares to be out at this hour - including you. Harsh bolts of lightning spear down, hurtling towards the ground like incensed, condensed moonlight and casting freakish shadows.

Moonlight: the colour of Feyd’s skin. If it weren’t for him, you’d already be off this sorry planet - alas, you must stay a little longer, your body already a little warm at the memory of his skilled fingers and scorching gaze. You haven’t been back since the encounter with the na-Baron in the arena months ago, and you can’t help but feel the sting of doubt in your chest, wondering if he’ll still want a second time, or if you’ll sneak into his room only to find yourself replaced by a concubine.

Not that you occupy significance to him anyway, you remind yourself. Feyd-Rautha could not replace you, because there would be nothing to replace, just ashes of a once bright fire.

Irked by the weakness of your own mind, you pull the hood of your cloak lower over your face, tightening it across your shoulders. The hem is sullied by browning blood: you disposed of your quarry just this morning, and delivered the decapitated head during the early afternoon.

Conveniently, the Bene Gesserit have left you alone for now, most likely tangled in the politics regarding the Kwisatz Haderach while trying to predict the next movement of Jessica Atreides - word is that she has burrowed her way deeper into the desert, surrounding herself and her son with the more fanatic of the Fremen as she bides her time, ready for her next strike.

It means that you’ve been granted enough time to establish yourself as a bounty hunter. For a highly trained Bene Gesserit, the work is easy, and earns you coin a plenty while keeping you on the move and as in shape as assassinating sloppy idiots attempting to run from debt and petty disagreements can.

Slipping through the palace’s perimeter proves easy enough. You use the Voice on a few guards, preferring it to cutting their throats: instructing them to keep quiet and forget you passed by causes much less of a commotion. The scaling of the ramparts that make up the circumference of the inner palace is the most challenging, due to the stone being slick with moss and rain - your fingers dig into the cracks between the weathered blocks of stone, the wind snapping and tugging at your cloak, fiercer now that you’re higher up.

There’s a narrow battlement ringing one side of Feyd’s room. You land on it silently, padding over to the window sill; curtains made of heavy black fabric layered on a dark, wispy privacy layer shroud most of your view of him. His pale skin is almost luminescent under the jagged flashes of lightning bathing his quarters, the blanket having slipped half off him during the night. He lies with his bare back facing you, although it’s hardly a vulnerability - you doubt anyone would be able to creep up on him easily enough to bury a knife into his exposed back without him tearing their throat out first.

Apart from you - hopefully.

Carefully, you ease the window open. A frigid gust of air rushes in as you climb through, and you witness the exact moment that Feyd awakens and becomes aware of your presence; imperceptibly, the muscles in his back ripple before he settles again - you posticipate the feel of them under your palms, hard, lean, perfect for sinking your nails into.

A thrill rushes through you at the sight of him, a sort of wondrous feeling, keen as a knife and just as cutting. You want him all over you, you want him to consume you until all you can remember is him and his smouldering eyes and sensuous touch.

Shrugging off your cloak, you let it pool to the floor around your feet before toeing off your shoes too; breath caught in your throat, you steal over to his bedside, your hand ghosting over the solid curve of his shoulder blade before you grip his shoulder, turning him so his back is flat against the mattress and straddling him in one fluid motion.

The cold kiss of metal meets your neck.

You almost moan at the look on his face. His lips are pulled back in a snarl, his eyes wild, frenzied almost, glittering with the same danger as before. Running your hands up his hard, sculpted chest, you smirk down at him, watching as ever so slowly, his gelid gaze defrosts with recognition, the ice giving way to those all encompassing flames, flames that you surrender to unequivocally.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you," you murmur, fingers circling his wrist.

Feyd blinks, watching you as if he’s going to eat you as always. Slowly, the hand not wielding the knife roams waywardly down your spine, grabs a harsh fistful of your ass and lingers before gliding upwards and settling on your waist. He huffs, an abrupt, amused sound, but you don’t miss the way he greedily drinks up your figure with his eyes.

"I thought I scared you away, little witch. Presumably, it was not too much for you?"

"For me?" You muse. "We’ll see."

Knocking the blade from his hand, you ignore the screeching noise it makes as it skitters across the stone floor, instead enjoying the subtle inhale, loaded with expectancy, that Feyd takes as you lean in close to him. You hover above him for a prolonged moment, arms boxing him in, before he lurches upwards, connecting your lips with his.

A growl sounds at the back of his throat when he tastes you, licking into your mouth as his fingers press at the small of your back, bringing your lower body to meet his. Rolling his hips against yours, he tangles his fingers in your hair; you feel giddy with the feel of him against you, solid and warm and wanting, so real beneath you, so fucking insatiable.

You can’t get enough of him.

Slowly, you pull away, ablaze with the ravening craving in his eyes. The muscles in his well shaped chest flex as he tips his face up, following your lips, and you smile disarmingly at him, hooking your fingers in the waistband of his trousers and pulling them down.

Taking his chin in your palm, you tilt his head so you can look him in the eyes before swiping your thumb over his lower lip, savouring the way he’s putty in your hands: a man destined to be the Baron of one of the most influential, powerful Houses in the Imperium, a lethal, strikingly skilled warrior, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, humbled by your touch.

"Let me taste you," you breathe - it’s almost a command.

"Please," he chokes out, imploring you with his eyes.

Laughing, you press a hand to his sternum and push. He sinks back into the mattress, compliant, and you trail your lips down his neck and sternum, leaving hickeys in your wake. You're seized by the need to make him shake and beg and cry; you want to devour him.

Dragging your nails cruelly down his thighs, branding him with livid red scratches, you tilt your head to the side, a smile playing upon your lips as you listen to the groan that leaves him, the pricks of pain setting him alight with longing. There’s a devout look in his eyes - a fervent, zealous sort of lust that stirs within you with the impulse to make him forget his own name.

Curling your fingers around his hard length and giving him a few pumps, you watch him under your lashes, something akin to a power rush spinning your head around and around. Feyd is wonderfully sensitive, and a sneer pulls at your lips when his fingers scramble for purchase, fisting in his silky sheets as you press a chaste, loitering kiss to his cock head - a pearl of jet precum sits at the apex of it, dark against its rosy, delicate flush.

Dipping your hand into your pants, you collect your slick on your fingers and use it to jerk him - when you glance up, his pupils are blown wide; lips parted, he stares at you, transfixed.

Eyes locked on his, you take him in your mouth: his thighs tighten, every muscle taut as you run your tongue along the veins wrapped around the underside of his cock. His head tips back, displaying the strong lines of his neck as you hollow your cheeks, rubbing your thighs together to ease the increasing ache between them. Jaw slack, you gag when he hits the back of your throat, and he growls at the sight of your hungry eyes growing watery.

You toy with him, teasing him with your tongue and grazing your teeth lightly over his length until he’s gasping your name; the way the syllables leave his tongue is almost pleading, his chest heaving and covered in a sheen of sweat, his thighs shuddering, wracked with tremors.

It’s evident that he’s close, the voracity in his eyes so hot that it melts your bones, sending heat pooling in your core - you’re going to let him wreck your cunt after this; ruin you for any other man. Trembling, his pale fingers hover near your head, splaying over the expanse of your shoulder, his eyes fucking begging for permission, so you pull off him, laughing as his hips jolt forward at the loss, his cock twitching when your fingertips graze his balls.

"Go on, Feyd," you coax. "Do as you wish."

A tender, honeyed noise rips from low in his chest, almost a whimper, a sound you know no one has extracted from him before. It’s the only warning before he fists his hand in your hair, hips bucking as he fucks into your mouth, his eyes rolling back as you gag around him, the debased moan that escapes you sending vibrations down his cock.

You almost black out when he comes down your throat. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of air reaching your lungs or the sweet pain of Feyd’s hand yanking at your hair, but you’re sure that you’ve never taken so much pleasure in someone else’s release. Slowly, you sit up, moving to lie beside Feyd, and he smiles dumbly at you, maybe a little fucked out as he leans in to kiss you, sighing as he tastes his own come on your tongue.

"I could spend hours exploring you, my little witch," he says, pressing his lips to your jaw.

Feyd flips you over with only an echo of ferocity from your previous fight, disrobing you and gripping your thighs, spreading them. Your hands find his shoulders, his back, your fingers resting in the dips of muscle there, trailing down the length of his spine as his own find your slick, yearning cunt.

Outside, the storm blows harder, rain pounding down upon the planet’s surface in sheets, lightning lancing through the thick billows of clouds; it is during one of these strikes that you glimpse that Feyd’s eyes are not as dark as they seem, but the colour of glaciers and blue fire. Within them, just beneath the keenness of his electric gaze, lurks something else - something that makes you hesitate. He senses it immediately, fingers pausing their movement, so you fit your lips to his.

You kiss him to avoid the emotions roiling in his stormy eyes.

He responds immediately, and you easily dismiss the thoughts clouding your mind; he barely knows you, there’s no room for the feelings you just saw in his gaze. You seek his body, not his soul, and it is the same both ways.

"Fuck me," you mumble against his lips.

All coherent sentences leave your mind when he flips you over again, this time with your stomach pressed to his bedsheets as he kneels on the mattress behind you.

"Ass up, my little witch," he commands.

Something within you goes molten at the sound of his voice. You can feel his gaze straying all over your skin, greedy, so you tuck your knees beneath you and arch your back, biting down on your lower lip as his palm presses against your lower vertebrae. He chuckles; it warms your bones.

"You’re so filthy, little witch, displaying yourself for me."

Bolts of ecstasy shoot through you as Feyd slides his cock head through your folds, his broad hands gripping your hips so tightly that you’ll be left with bruises. Your breath is punched from your lungs when he sinks himself inside you, balls deep, white hot pleasure rocketing down your spine - it tears a wretched cry from you, more so when he starts a brutal, near sadistic pace, the angle destroying you with vicious bliss.

The drag of his searing, velvet cock on your walls makes your toes curl. You think your body might shatter into a million pieces, the way he plucks the euphoria from it so agonisingly, so beautifully. One of his hands finds its way between your thighs, his thumb rolling endlessly over your clit; you find yourself teetering on the edge, suspended there a moment before you fall.

The way your cunt convulses around his cock as you come doesn’t stop Feyd. Unforgiving, he ploughs into you, his fingers still working on your clit, not breaking his rhythm even as you writhe beneath him, trying to jerk your hips away from his to no avail. It’s too much, the pleasure melting delectably into pain and still he can’t stop, won’t stop, his low snarl a warning in your ear as he pins you to the mattress with a hand between your shoulder blades, leaving you helpless to do nothing but take him.

Tears well up in your eyes, soaking into the sheets beneath you as he rails into you, his fingers speeding up on your clit until you’re begging him, tremors shooting through you from the aftershocks of your orgasm. His grip on your hips is unrelenting, and you sob as his pace increases, the savage friction sending you over again.

For the second time, you come hard around him, pussy clenching and fluttering, ragged cries wracking your body. This time, you bring Feyd with you, the sound he makes sharp and almost pained. He pulls out, and you mewl at the sharp tug of friction, panting as he comes on your back and ass, claiming you with his dark seed.

Breathless, he sits back on his heels as you straighten your legs until you lie full stretch, revelling in the post orgasmic rapture. Dimly, you hear his footsteps on the stone floor, but you pay them no mind, instead letting your eyelids droop as you rest your chin in the crook of your elbow.

Gentle hands encircle your ankles, carefully opening your legs. A second later, you feel a warm cloth at the apex of your thighs, and you whine, flinching away from the overstimulation. You hear Feyd’s chuckle, and the comforting sweep of his thumb against your skin as he cleans you up, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses on your back as he does; barely a moment after, the mattress dips, and strong arms pull you into a warm chest.

"How are you, my little witch?"

You hum in response, not wanting to use words. Something niggles at your brain, even through the haze of pleasure. It’s got to do with the na-Baron’s gentleness after he fucks you; it unsettles you, the sweetness of him, and now these words, as if you’re a lover, and not… whatever this is.

One of his wide palms runs up and down your ribs, and you shove those thoughts to the side, instead enjoying his touch, the way your body fits into his, his chest pressed against your front as he traces patterns on your skin with his deft fingers; his lips brushing the nape of your neck, leaving soft kisses there. You find yourself curling away from him a little - his hands on you make something deep in your chest stir to life, something that shouldn’t be there. It’s -

A blinding flash of lightning, followed by the deep, throaty growl of thunder illuminates the room. You’re facing the door: in the crack between its solid masonry and the floor, you glimpse a shadow.

Hastily, you turn, one hand meeting Feyd’s chest, fingers falling into the dip his collarbone makes as you search his eyes, urgent. He stares back at you, not quite guarded, but not quite open any more, and you’re filled with the urge to protect.

"Give me your knife," you hiss.

He sits up halfway. "What’s - "

You push him back down, glaring at his resistance. You can sense the change in the air, hear the subtle scrape of someone’s boot across the stone floor and the swish of clothing behind the door - or maybe it’s just the building storm outside, the escalating charge in the sky as another bolt of lightning is generated.

"Feyd. Give me your knife."

Eyes quizzical, he produces it from somewhere behind him, handing it to you hilt first. It’s just in time, because the door swings open, a masked figure silhouetted there. You whirl around, covering Feyd’s body with your own.

They’re holding a knife.

It doesn’t take you a moment longer to send your knife hurtling towards them. The blade seethes through the air before embedding itself with a thunk into the assassin’s shoulder, and as they drop to the floor, you’re up in another second, poised in case there’s another. A flash of movement catches your eye - the dropped knife, retrieved and held in blood soaked fingers.

"Stand down," you snap.

The Voice echoes through the room, and you pluck the knife out of the now frozen assassin’s grasp and slit his throat. Turning, you see the glimmer of amusement and awe in Feyd’s eyes; assassination attempts probably occur often, an estranged Bene Gesserit using the Voice in his room less so.

"So many people seem eager to sneak into my bed chamber tonight," he remarks. "Although I must admit I preferred the first one."

You laugh, collecting your clothes off the floor. "I’m glad."

As you pull on your trousers, followed closely by your shirt, Feyd gets up, and you’re struck by the slow manner in which he approaches you, so much like the way he prowled towards you in the arena, but this time his eyes concerningly soft, his deadly, killing machine of a body marked with hickeys and love bites.

"Why do you always rush to leave so fast, my little witch?"

"I - I have places to be," you stammer.

He tilts his head. "At this hour of the night?"

"...Yes."

Feyd takes one step closer, close enough to kiss. "What are you afraid of?"

You back towards the window. "I fear nothing."

"Don’t lie to me," he warns. "I can see it in your eyes."

Shaking your head, panic rising in your throat, you turn, the glass chilly on your fingers as you open the window. Feyd catches your other hand, but you whirl around and lash out, a blow to the face followed by a blow to the legs, and he staggers backwards, giving you enough time to slip out of the window and onto the battlements.

Outside, the storm has whipped up, the howling wind tearing at your hood and blowing it off, the rain immediately pouring down to soak your hair, sting your eyes, wet your face. You need to run, you need to get away from him, but the weak part of you - the part that you fear - slows your strides, tugging at you as if it’s tied to Feyd somehow.

He catches up to you easily enough.

Of course he does, he is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, and he is inexplicably bound to your soul in a way you cannot describe, in a way that terrifies you, shakes you to your very core. He catches your with a hand around your upper arm and presses you to his chest, your treacherous body reacting to him the way it always has as he stares down at you with those burning, icy eyes, droplets of rain running in rivulets down the moonlight planes of his chest.

Unease tears through you. You see it in his eyes, that he feels it too, and you dread the way it does not disquiet him. Your soul feels like it’s slowly rending in two - you need to get away from him, from the unguarded way he regards you, dedication clear in his unwavering gaze, but all the same, you need to remain with his arms trapping you to him, in the bewildering magnetism of his psyche.

"Tell me what you fear, my little witch."

You answer through clenched teeth. "I am not yours."

"You evade my question."

You stare at Feyd, confounded. This man before you is the same man that you duelled in the arena, yet he is different; there is a certainty in his eyes, an acceptance that you yourself flee from. You’re drawn to him, even as the instincts that have kept your hollow heart intact all these years squall for you to break loose - and yet you fear that too, the evasion, because you know that if you run now, a part of you will be lost, snapped under the tension.

"What do you - "

You cut Feyd off. "Do you know what I fear, Harkonnen? I fear the look in your eyes, because it’s not just desire any more. You do not seek me in order that I inflict pain and pleasure alike upon you, you seek something else. I fear the look in your eyes because it is the same feeling that rises traitorously in my chest when I look at you, and it terrifies me."

He’s silent.

You grab his shoulder. "Tell me you feel nothing, Feyd. Tell me you crave me for the thrill of adrenaline and the feel of my body - tell me and do not lie."

His eyes bore into yours. "I cannot."

"Exactly."

You wrest yourself from his grasp, turning and striding down the battlements. A strange feeling overtakes you, a prickle behind your eyes and a lump in your throat, an aching tug at your heart which you stalwartly ignore. It is over - you’re done. He made it harder than it ever had to be, but you’re going now.

He grabs your hand. "You cannot either, my little witch."

Struggling, you snarl at him, clawing at your chest, but he pins you to the wall, his eyes aflame, searing, calling to something in you that rises up to meet him. This time, it is too strong; you cannot push it down, a part of you not even wanting to. You can feel Feyd all over you, your senses overwhelmed by him, by the way he presses his forehead to yours, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You do not have to fear it," he whispers. "Just let go. You’re holding on too tight."

He dips his head, claiming your lips. You give in, yield to it, let it wash over you and carry you away on its blissful waves, your heart swelling in your chest at the way he touches you, tenderly, as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever laid his eyes upon; this is not Feyd, but this is him, irrefutably so.

You think this might be love.

It is a wild, white hot blade in your heart that twists, beauteous, enthralling. You believed that it would weaken you, shackle you, but you blaze with the glorious flare of it, the kiss of Feyd’s hips against yours stoking it further. Truly, it is magnificent.

In the only way you know how, you show him. It’s cataclysmic, the way you’re pulled to him like a comet caught in a planet’s gravity, streaking towards him, fated to collide, your hands roving over him, his over you, the taste of rain blooming on your tongue as you bite down on his shoulder, muffling a moan as he ekes sweet, tender pleasure from you. Your head tips back against the stone, eyes raised to the weeping sky, your lips parted as he fills you with his cock.

Feyd looks at you as if you are a goddess. He worships you, cradles you in his arms, anchoring you, grounding you. You do not know where he ends and you begin, nor do you want to know; you wish for your souls to meld, you wish for the two of you to be alone in the universe, unbothered by time or fate or anything.

"You are mine, little witch," he intones against your rain soaked skin. "I am yours."

[kafnixc]

Pairing : GP!Dom!Acheron x Sub!Fem!reader

Warnings! : Fingering, Overstimulation, Jealous sex, Crying, Mentions of blood(Biting), Creampie, Semi public sex

Author's note : I'am crazy for this woman, y'all don't understand the things I'd let this woman do to me

MEN & MINORS DNI

During your visit to penacony with your lover, whom hides her identity with the title Galaxy Ranger, Acheron you came across a memokeeper named Black Swan and you two got close real quick, well.. too close to Acheron's liking

"(Reader).. don't you think you're being too close with, that memokeeper? I don't trust her" Acheron spoke in a firm tone while wrapping an arm around your waist, resting her head on your shoulder "Black Swan? There's no need to get cautious around her love, she's a very sweet person" you replied with a smile, but you only received a scoffed from her

"You shouldn't trust people here in Penacony so easily, you don't know their actual intentions." She said before pulling you closer

Unfortunately, your romantic time was cut short when the memo keeper showed up "(Reader)! Come with me, is it fine if I show you something?" Black swan said with a small grin on her lips, offering her hand to you "O-Oh! Of course" you replied, breaking away from Acheron, but before you could even get away, she grabbed your arm stopping you from leaving "(Reader) is busy." Acheron said in a low tone, eyes narrowing at the sight of the Memokeeper.

"Is that so?" A giggle escapes from Black Swan, as she then sighed and waved her hand dismissively "A shame then.. I'll leave you two be, see you around, (Reader)"

"..You, we need to talk" Acheron firmly said, before dragging you away from the busy crowd of Penacony and to a dark alleyway

"Aeons! A-Acheron..!" A whine escapes your lips, as two.. no, three slim fingers roughly pumps in and out of your already soaked entrance, slick dripping down to the ground while you hold onto the Galaxy Ranger for dear life

"You seem to be getting too close with that memokeeper.. are you forgetting about me?" Her fingers hit that spongy spot inside you, causing your legs to buckle barely keeping yourself up as your third orgasm comes crashing down

"N-No m'sorry..! N-No more.. m'sorry.." You sobbed out, gripping onto her shoulders to support yourself from falling, as her fingers continuously pistons your insides in a rather.. rough pace.

"No more..? But your pussy is telling me the opposite thing." A chuckle escapes the Galaxy Ranger's lips, as her pace intensified curling her fingers on that spongy area, earning a cry from you while your walls grips on those slim fingers as your fourth orgasm crashes over you

After a few moments of haziness, you felt her fingers retreating from your soaked folds. You thought it was over, not until you heard a sound of a zipper.. Your eyes widened at the sight of the Galaxy Ranger's erection

"Wait wait.. w-we're still going?" You said in a nervous tone, which only made her grin mischievously "I never said we're done, did I?" Replied Acheron before lifting you up, you gasped and immediately wrapped your legs around her hips, gripping her shoulders for more support

"Let me remind you.. who you belong to" Without a warning, she slammed her whole length inside you, earning a scream from you but she quickly covered your mouth "Silence, there's people wandering around you know, might I remind you that we're not in a secluded area."

Oh.. that's right, you two weren't in a room, in fact.. you two were just outside, in an alleyway, where people can always look if there's something going on. But instead of feeling fear, that somehow turned you on even more but you couldn't bring yourself to admit such.

Her cock filled you up to the brim, and at the mere length of it caused tears to well up in your eyes, you can feel it stretching you up while her hips slammed into you repeatedly in an animalistical pace.

"A-Acheron— Acheron.." you cried her name out like a prayer, then a gasp escapes your lips as you felt her bite your neck, and gods it felt good.. her teeth sinks into your soft supple flesh, drawing a little blood which causes you to squirm

"Fuck.. (Reader) you feel so good.." a whimper escapes from the Galaxy Ranger's lips, gripping your hips as she pushes you further against the wall and gritting her teeth as her pace quickened.

Tears spilled from your eyes as you felt your fifth orgasm coming, you roll your eyes back and your walls clenched her cock earning a grunt from the Galaxy Ranger as your orgasm crashes down once more

After a few more thrusts, Acheron whimpered before painting your insides white, filling you up to the brim with hot cum. She held you close while thrusting slowly, trying to help you ride out your high

When you recover from your high, Acheron placed a kiss to your lips while wiping your tears away "Are you alright dove?.." You noticed the look of concern in her eyes, you smiled before nodding "I'm fine, don't worry.."

At the sound of your reassurance, Acheron's gaze softened, before leaning in as she whispers in your ear "Good.. I'll give you some time to recover, then we go again."

Your eyes widened at her words, a shiver running down your spine and you think to yourself.. this is gonna be a long night.

[inks-writing-space]

The Way You Look Tonight- Klaus Mikaelson x f!reader

My Masterlist <3

3.7k: You decided to tease your boyfriend Klaus on a ball and you pay dearly in a delicious way.

Warnings: smut (obvy), light dom/sub dynamics, vibrators, slight exhibition kink, heavy degradation, orgasm delay/denial, but cute (short) aftercare, rough sex, blood drinking, oral sex f!recieving, that's it I think

A/N: I wrote this while I was drunk. It is proof read but a little melodramatic. (And it was hard choosing a title so don't judge please) Also I realized this is only my 2nd Klaus OS on here like helloo?? That's a crime. I need to write more about the man who probably personified the words sugar daddy. By the way there is an Elijah x Gia cameo in here because I watched Originals Season 2 and I can't forget them, they were so adorable. (So was he with Hayley of course) Also I don't think I am running low on ideas, but if you have any requests please don't hesitate to send them!

~~~~~~~

The Ball room glittered with decadent elegance while Music drifted lazily through the room, each note winding between guests dressed in silk, velvet, and carefully guarded secrets.

But Klaus Mikaelson wasn’t interested in the music. His eyes were on you. You had wanted to go to dances like this more often and it was a good way for Klaus to keep up appearances.

You had arrived fashionably late, knowing very well he'd be watching the door the entire time. You had gotten ready with Gia who was here with Elijah and you two had taken your time. While Gia had chosen a beautiful yellow dress you had gone for a darker one. Black silk, backless, hugging your curves like sin itself. High slit. No bra. Just confidence and the sharp thrill of Klaus' gaze tracking you like prey.

You approached Klaus and took the champagne Elijah gave you and Gia. "Hello," you said pressing a quick kiss to Klaus' cheek. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close his face still hard.

"You two definitely took your time," he said controlled and you threw Gia a glance who rolled her eyes. "Haste makes waste," she said and Elijah chuckled before leading her to the dance floor.

"Are you angry Nik?," you asked Klaus and he didn't respond for a while, while sipping on his drink. "Of course not love," he finally said his lips curving up into a small smile, "Just glad that you are here. You look amazing."

Klaus was here to have a nice, relaxing evening but you had other plans for both of you. You two had been a little estranged the past few weeks due to the fact that you were just about to finish college and barely had time. All the effort had come from him for a too long time, and you wanted to change that. But for that you had to rile him up a little.

As always Klaus was a business man and here for that as well. And for once you weren't annoyed by it, but every time he turned to someone else you danced with strangers, enjoying their attention for a minute, before moving on to the next one. You leaned in too close during conversations, tilted your head when you laughed, made sure Klaus saw the way one man's hand almost brushed too low on your back. But Klaus didn't move, he only watched and enjoyed your every move. You made eye contact with him one time and he just raised his eyebrows tilting his head questioning

Finally an hour later, you approached him with a glas of Aperol spritz in your hand. “Not even a hello?” you purred, your voice soft enough for only him to hear.

“I’m being polite,” Klaus said, his voice low and dark. “You don’t want me to be otherwise.”

You tilted your head innocently, taking a slow sip of champagne before leaning against him, his hand immediately tightening around your waist. “Is that what this is? Restraint?," you asked a little mockingly

He leaned in, brushing his lips just shy of your ear. “You’re playing with a very dangerous man, sweetheart.”

“And you’re letting me,” you whispered back, brushing past him with a slow glide of your fingers down his chest before ordering another drink. It took you a lot of courage to tease Klaus and he knew that just as much as you. He wore his control like a mask, but you wanted to see it fall.

So you pushed.

Another dance. Another brush of fingers, this time behind his back as you walked by, letting your nails trail down his spine. You didn’t turn around, but you felt the moment he stopped breathing.

Later, you caught his eye across the ballroom and slid one finger down the stem of your glass slowly, deliberately, before bringing it to your lips.

The moment your tongue touched the glass, Klaus was gone from his post.

You turned away before he reached you. Your heart was racing as you felt him behind you. You had been toeing the line the entire evening and now he had seemed to snap. He had let you tease him and now you were going to pay.

He didn’t even say a word as he reached you. He just held his palm up for you, a silent command to take his hand and you knew right now it would be dumb to not listen. That was why set your glass down and took his hand, your heart still racing.

His grip was firm and he gripped you tightly. Not a word was spoken as he guided you through the glittering room, past the festivities, down a quiet corridor lined with ancestral portraits and thick velvet drapes.

The air changed once you left the main hall. "You know this place?," you asked your voice sounding less composed then you had hoped.

Klaus said nothing as he opened a door and ushered you inside. It was a study that looked as if it had been stolen out of the 18th century. Black armchair as well as candles and more. He shut the door behind you with a definitive click of the lock.

You turned to face him, but Klaus was quicker. He was on you in a flash, backing you against the desk, his hand curling around your throat reminding you to not make a dumb comment.

"You think you're clever?" he growled, his accent thickened by restraint, his lips brushing yours. You licked his lower lip, but he ignored it. “Wearing that dress. Parading around like a spoiled little brat. You thought I’d just stand there and let it slide?”

Your eyes fluttered your arousal raising immediately as his grip tightened slightly. “Maybe,” you whispered, voice breathy. “I was just dressing for the occasion.”

He laughed darkly. “Oh, of course you did. This is a ball, you look like a little slut.”

His hand slid from your throat down your body, slow and firm palming your breast through the silk. You whimpered as he rolled your right nipple between his fingers. Then he went lower, his hand wandering over your stomach, to the hem of your dress. He shoved it up with one sharp motion, revealing the lacy red panties you wore. He ran his fingers over them and chuckled as you immediately tried to grind down.

“You’ve been wet all night,” he said, his fingers teasing between your thighs, parting you gently but not giving what you craved. “Dripping for me. While you pretended you were in charge.”

He reached into his jacket pocket pulling out a small, silver toy glinted in the candlelight.Your breath caught, "Do you...do you just carry sex toys with you everywhere you go?," you whispered.

Klaus chuckled, "Let's say I had things planned tonight. But this...this is even better. Now I get to enjoy myself," he paused, "However I don't know how you will feel about this." You shook your head trying to squirm away but Klaus held you back.

“You wanted to be a brat,” Klaus murmured, brushing the tip of the vibe against your folds, “Now you’ll learn what happens to brats.”

Klaus checked for a second if you were showing any signs that you really didn't want this, and as he found none he slid the toy inside with deliberate, slow pressure, placing a magnet on your panties that would made sure it wouldn't fall out. Your body arched and your breath stuttered. But he didn’t let you move, his hand kept pressing firmly against your hip, holding you still against the desk.

“You’re going to wear this for the rest of the night,” he whispered at your ear, showing you the remote in his hand. “And every time you act like a tease, every time you look at me with those eyes, I’ll remind you why you shouldn't act out.”

He clicked the button and low vibration sat in immediately. It was barely a hum but it was enough. Enough to make your thighs tremble.

You gasped, gripping the desk behind you, your body already aching trying to coax Klaus to touch you, but he stepped back, fixed his jacket, and looked at you with devilish calm.

“You wanted to play, sweetheart?” he purred, opening the door for you, “Now the real fun begins.”

Every step back into the ballroom was a balancing act, your heels clicking against marble, while you made your way back to the dance floor while that fucking toy was buzzing inside you. Gia and Elijah had already left and you were glad. They were both vampires and would have been very able to hear the toy.

At the moment it was set to the lowest setting, which was madening. It was just enough to make your muscles tense and your legs shake. It was just enough to keep you constantly wanting. Just enough to remind you of Klaus who was behind you, his hand softly on your lower back.

He walked beside you like nothing was out of place, and you knew when he was this composed he was enjoying himself the most. Nevertheless was the remote in his jacket pocket, and his hand brushed it with maddening ease.

"Smile, love,” he murmured as you passed a couple. “Don't want anyone suspecting how soaked you are.”

You bit down on your lip, forcing a smile. Forced elegance, you could do that.

He leaned in as you reached the bar, his lips brushing your ear. "You're trembling."

You exhaled slowly. “Maybe I’m just cold.” He chuckled darkly. “No, you’re desperate. And I haven’t even started.”

He slid his hand behind your back, fingers brushing low before dipping into the small of your back. His other hand? Casually flicked the remote. The vibrations jumped to medium. Your knees buckled but you had to steady because Klaus wanted to dance. He turned you on the parquet to a waltz while the setting remained the same.

After the dance you hurried off the dance floor and gripped the bar to steady yourself, pretending to reach for the drink the bartender gave you. But your breathing betrayed you, it was just a little to shallow while your pupils were dilated.

Klaus stepped behind you, pressing his chest to your back. To anyone else it looked as if he was just hugging you and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Imagine if they knew," he whispered. "What you're hiding under this dress. That I’ve kept you just on the edge while you play the polite little guest. You look so adorable."

The toy pulsed inside you, a lot harder this time and your stomach clenched. You had to bite back a moan but Klaus had noticed it and chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

You nodded, barely able to think past your own pleasure. “Please…”

He smirked and turned it off.

Your breath hitched at the sudden absence of vibrations. Klaus walked around to face you, completely unbothered, fixing the cuff of his sleeve as if nothing had happened. “That’s not how you beg,” he said. “Not nearly good enough.”

You glared at him, lips parted, flushed, desperate. “Klaus-," you started as he sat down at the bar. It was not only the toy inside you, but also the fact that he looked ravishing. If he would have told you to take off your dress right here for him, you would have done it.

Suddenly another flick. It was back on.

Your whole body jolted at the unexpected sensation, while your hands gripped the side of the bar, your knuckles turning white. Klaus kept the pressure just enough to make your thighs shake. To make your core tighten. To make you feel the orgasm right there, hanging by a thread.

He whispered against your neck, one hand grazing down your side.

“You won't come yet. I want you desperate when we get home. Messy. Ruined. I want you begging for it."

You whimpered again. “I already am. Please, Klaus, please, just one. ”

He turned it up again, just a bit and for a second you thought that maybe he'd let you come. Your head fell against his chest and you had to bite back a lot of moans. He gripped your chin, tilting your face back up to him.

“Eyes on me,” Klaus growled. “I want to watch them flutter when I deny you again.”

You could have come just from him voice, but as you looked up you saw the dark amusement in his eyes and just before you tipped over the edge, again he clicked.

Off.

Tears stung your eyes as Klaus kissed your cheek and you had to hold onto him. You looked around. No one was paying attention and if they would have it looked as if you two were just hugging.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Now be patient.”

-

As you finally left you were struggling to conceal the shaking. It was hard but you had managed the entire night. Until the doors closed and Klaus opened the passenger door to his car. He helped you in and you immediately thanked him in your mind for the tinted windows.

Nevertheless there was nothing gentle about the way he leaned down to whisper, “Keep your legs closed unless I say otherwise,” and closed the door.

You didn’t speak when he got in. Neither did he and so you were only shaking trying to follow his command and keep your legs closed.

The car was silent except for your breathing and the obscene little whirr of the vibrator inside you, ramping up again. You had no idea how Klaus was able to focus on the street and on the remote control in his pocket. But the thought was slapped out of your mind as he turned it on again. You gasped, your back arched and your hips lifted instinctively from the leather seat.

Klaus didn’t even look at you.

One of his hands was on the wheel, the other resting lazily on his thigh, while he drove like nothing was wrong.

"Pathetic," he muttered, glancing at you with that cruel little smirk. “You can’t even sit still for a ten minute drive without acting like a fucking mess.”

Your head rolled back against the seat, one hand gripping your thigh, the other clawing uselessly on the door.

“Please, Klaus-" Your voice was a sob, a cry for mercy “I can’t… I need to come, I-fuck please.”

He clicked his tongue. “Already begging? You didn't even make it a full minute in the car”

The toy pulsed harder. You cried out. It was an actual, shameless scream that echoed in the car. And still, he didn’t turn it off.

He just looked at you.

“Do you even hear yourself?” Klaus asked, voice low and cold. “Whimpering like a slut. Grinding your cunt into my seat like some desperate little thing. What would they all say if they saw you like this?”

You gasped, clenching your thighs, trying to hold on, but your body was on fire. You didn't even care about his insult you were just trying to get to the peak of your pleasure.

“Klaus, please!” Your voice cracked. “It hurts me, please, let me-”

“Oh no, love,” he interrupted smoothly. “You don’t get to come. Not until you’ve earned it.”

You whimpered again, louder this time, your legs shaking, face burning, thighs slick and soaked through.

His hand finally moved from the wheel to your knee. You weren't sure if you were happy or even more frustrated because of that.

His hand slid up your thigh, pulling your legs apart despite your body’s instinct to clamp down. You opened them finally for him.

“Look at that,” he murmured, “You were so smug an hour ago. Thought it was a good idea to tease me. And now?”

He pushed your dress up, just enough to expose your trembling inner thighs.

“You’re just a wet, shaking, needy little mess, who wants to be fucked so badly”

He pressed a single finger to the bulge of the toy inside you, just enough pressure to make you cry out again. And still he showed no mercy whatsoever

“You’ll come,” he said, his voice almost kind, “When we get home.”

You sobbed again, feeling humiliated and turned on but Klaus just chuckled as the car rolled through the dark streets, the city blurring past.

Every red light was another minute of torture. Every flicker of the remote was another denial.

And when the house finally came into view, you looked at him with glassy eyes. He just smiled, "Come on don't give up now."

The moment the front door slammed shut behind you, Klaus grabbed you by the throat and pinned you to the wall, lifting your dress with the tips of his fingers.

His hand wrapped tight around your neck, your breath catching instantly. You could see how hard he was and it made you swallow. A few hours ago you had been all sure and teasing but now you knew he was not going to be gentle.

“You wanted this,” he growled, eyes burning gold, voice ragged, "All night you begged for it. Now take it.”

You looked into Klaus' eyes and you saw the danger in them, but you also saw the love you could always see. No matter what happened the moment he looked at you was also the moment you realized how much he loved you. He didn't move for a second and you noticed that he was waiting for you permission. "Yes, I will," you whispered and Klaus smiled.

He kissed you hard, his tongue immediately pushing past your lips, his hand that had just teased the edge of your dress wrapping around your waist. You moaned into the kiss, and jumped up to wrap your legs around his hips. He immediately squeezed your thighs.

As he set you down his hand dropped to your thigh, hiked your dress up, and pulled your undergarments off. He kneeled down and jerked the vibrator out, putting it back into a small little box. Then he slowly dragged his tongue over your folds making you shiver and whimper beneath him.

“You don’t come until I say,” Klaus hissed, his thumb pressing onto your clit “Do you understand?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes, Klaus, please!;" you begged but he didn't even give you time to finish your plea. He continued to eat you out, sucking onto your clit while his fingers pushed inside you. As you were close he stopped again and threw you onto the couch. His appearance was disheveled and he practically ripped his clothes apart while getting undressed.

He was on top of you again and yanked your dress up over your hips. He didn't give you time and just slammed into you with a single brutal thrust. Your scream of relief echoed off the walls.

Finally. Finally. Fucking finally.

Klaus wasn't going to stop anytime soon. He was normally the type who enjoyed a long foreplay but not tonight. No, he was done with the teasing. You moaned your hips bucking up. You moaned his name as you held onto his shoulders while he whispered praise into your ear. A sharp contrast to his earlier words in the car.

Your orgasm built like a wave it came fast and brutal. He felt your body clenching around him and that was his sign to slow. Just a beat, enough for him to whisper, "Don't come yet." You screamed in complete frustration tears running down your cheeks, your body shaking beneath him.

He reached down, thumb brushing over your clit with wicked precision. “You want to come?” he whispered. “Beg like a good fucking girl.”

You were crying wanting nothing more than to come. “Please, Klaus, please, let me- I need to, I can’t, I need it!”

Klaus' sped up again, kissing you before whispering into your ear, “Then come.”

He gave one final, punishing thrust and you shattered beneath him. You screamed and cried as your whole body spasmed, stars bursting behind your eyes, wave after wave tearing through you. Klaus didn’t stop, he continued to fuck you through it mercilessly. He didn’t slow until you collapsed beneath him, twitching and boneless, gasping for breath.

He came with a guttural moan, buried deep inside you, his grip bruising on your hips, his teeth at your neck. He drank deeply from you and it somehow added to te pure post-orgasm bliss.

Your body trembled, spent and broken and satisfied.

Klaus stayed on top of you for a moment, breathing hard, forehead against yours. “Next time you act like a brat,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against your cheek, “I’ll spank you and make you beg for days.”

You smiled weakly, eyes fluttering shut, "Can't wait," you whispered. Klaus noticed your exhaustion and sat up slowly kissing your face, "Love, are you good?," he whispered and you nodded. "Yes, but you owe me the best aftercare in the history of aftercares. And like one million cuddles," you whispered. Klaus chuckled and picked you up and carried you to bed. "I'm sorry I have been absentmindedly the past weeks," you mumbled but Klaus shook his head as he gave you one of his shirts. "Don't worry. Your exams are important," he said and you pressed yourself against him. "I love you, Klaus," you whispered and he smiled at you. "I love you too."

[artists-ally]

what about Harvey when he’s jealous? His wife is attending an event at the firm with him, she’s wearing a nice dress and one of his rivals from another firm is oggling her and she dogdes his advances gracefully, but when they get home he’s bending her on the closest surface and chanting “mine” skxmcmdks

{Put it on Me} Reader x Harvey Specter

oh BOY have I been thinking about this tehe. Also, you are my soul source of Harvey inspiration pls pls pls keep the requests coming. I have such a hard time coming up with ideas on my on so getting to create something specific really helps. Enjoy loves!!! title from this song

Word Count: 3,375

Warnings: jealousy, minor dom/sub concepts, unprotected sex, flirty banter, Harvey being a possessive mf.

~~~~~~~

As I stepped around the corner of the hallway, Harvey was leaning against the kitchen island, hands braced on the counter, gaze very much pinned on my silhouette.

“So, what do you think?” I asked, gesturing to the gown I had picked out over the weekend. “I thought the green would match well with yours.”

Harvey’s eyes melted over my frame, scanning every inch as he just stood. Watching. “You… Yn, you look breathtaking. What do you say we skip the firm announcement and just stay in?”

I laughed, the sound of my heels echoing off the walls. “As much as that sounds like a great idea, we can’t exactly snub off the announcement of a merger.”

“You just have to be the buzzkill don’t you?” Harvey smiled, planting his hands on my hips. “I should have you locked up for how good you look.”

“I don’t think you’d be able to convince a jury I’ve committed a crime, not if I bat my lashes and give them that flirty smile that sent you crawling to the floor.”

His eyes narrowed, backing me against the island in a firm spin. “Let’s not forget who can make those same lashes flutter shut, either.”

Bastard.

Harvey was dressed well– he always was. Terribly and insufferably great at finding the perfect suit. It was a three piece; the vest and jacket were black, but he wore this green tie that went with my dress. He said that since this would be the first event we attended together as a married couple, he wanted everyone to know.

Endearing, and mildly possessive.

I loved it when he was possessive.

“Okay, Maverick, let’s get to the flightdeck before we run out of fuel,” I patted his chest, grabbing my clutch and slipping in my earrings.

“Have I ever told you how much I love it when you make Top Gun references?”

“Almost as many times as you’ve told me how much you love when I’m on my knees,” I whispered in his ear before heading to the door.

Harvey landed a firm smack on my ass, sending laughter tumbling out of me before we kissed and headed down to the limo waiting for us.

I looked up and out of the window, taking in the views of the towering skyscrapers. The venu was gorgeous; all sleek marble and intricate architecture. Who knew such a place existed in New York.

When we arrived, Harvey stepped out first, taking my hand and guiding me out. I clutched his bicep as we ascended the stairs, greeting the security guard in front of the glass doors.

“Ahh, Mr. and Mrs. Specter,” the guard greeted. “Welcome. Ms. Pearson and Mr. Litt are waiting for you inside, as well as the other guests.”

Harvey gave me a nod, and I gave him one back. “Thank you, sir.”

He opened the door for us, and the inside was just as meticulously crafted as the outside. It was stunning, truly stunning. They don’t make buildings like this anymore, and that makes me a little sad.

“Yn!” Donna called out, several heads turning in our direction. “Oh my god you look amazing!”

“I couldn’t say anything less about you, Donna. You look so good, that royal blue makes your hair look so awesome,” I smiled pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And you too, Jessica. You look marvelous.”

“Thank you, Yn,” she smiled, accepting my hug. “Don’t you clean up nice, Harvey.”

He rolled his eyes, snagging a flute of champagne from a waiter on their way by. “I’ve been known to clean up every now and then.”

Conversation flowed easily between the small cluster I’ve been encompassed with. It is so nice to have such a tight knit group of people to not only call my friends, but my family. When Harvey first brought me around them, it had just been after a huge win against a firm enemy. Daniel Hardman, who I’ve come to know the full story about, had his ass handed to him. Afterwards, Harvey was far too proud to keep his mouth shut about us and insisted I needed to be a part of the celebration.

Donna was the first to meet me, and we shared one look and knew we were gonna be best friends. We made an incredible team. Especially when we teamed up against Harvey together.

Jessica was polite, but not nearly as friendly as Donna or Louis. Mike was nice, and so was Rachel, but they were too love struck, always off in their own little bubble.

Cuties.

Dinner was served just before eight and we dined, exchanging stories left and right. I got to hear about his days at the firm from their perspective, to which I get to tell them from mine. Wildly different, might I add.

The food was rich and decadent; a choice between a filet mignon or a salmon steak. I went with the filet mignon, it looked too good to pass up. Apparently everyone else agreed because our plates all looked identical when they came out.

More champagne and a belly full of great food later, Harvey and I found ourselves at the bar, ordering drinks for ourselves. Sure Harvey enjoyed the company of his co-workers, but even he needed a break from the people he saw every day. And so did I.

“If she comes back, order me an old fashioned for me my love?” Harvey said, kissing the back of my hand. “I just saw one of our investors walk in. I want to make sure he keeps investing.”

“I’ll make sure she puts in an extra cherry for you,” I winked, letting his lips fall onto mine.

“God I love you.”

With a lingering touch, he was off across the room, that classic Harvey Specter saunter to his gait. He looked so confident, so proud of all the work he had accomplished in his career. And he should be. Harvey has built an empire here in New York and has done more than earn his reputation.

It baffled me that underneath that ‘tough as nails’ attitude, was just someone who wanted to be loved and cherished as much as I had. I love Harvey, with every bit of my soul. He was so deserving of someone who truly loved him and not the amount of zeros in his bank account.

When we first met, I hadn’t known who he was, and he liked that very much. He told me he was a lawyer, a good one, but never specified which didn’t bother me really at all. It was complicated for a long while, but eventually I wore him down and he opened up. There weren’t any details of his life he didn’t share once that wall was broken down. When I met Donna for the first time, she thanked me for it. She said that I pulled that child-like behavior out of him and made him fall in love with being a lawyer all over again.

That made my heart swell with pride.

A gentle tap on my shoulder pulled me out of my memory of Harvey, and I met a pair of tempest blue eyes.

“Oh, hello,” I gave a polite smile, turning to face the man.

“Hello to you, too,” he smiled, eyes darting around my face. “I’m Travis.”

“Yn,” I said, taking his hand in mine.

“You know,” he rubbed his fingers over his chin, “Most people tend to just wear an outfit, but clearly you are going the extra mile by capturing everyone’s attention by simply sitting here.”

I hit my smile, “Well, that is kind of you to say.”

“And the earrings, they really bring the whole thing together. Did you do your hair yourself?”

“Yes,” I exclaimed, rather enthusiastically. “It looks a lot more complicated than it was. It genuinely only took me five or six minutes to do but it looks incredible, right?”

I swiveled in the bar stool, turning the back of my head to him. He blew out a low whistle and gave a light applause, “It looks amazing.”

“Are you here from the merger?” I asked, not recognizing this Tanner fellow.

“Oh, no I am merely here as a… a guest.” His eye had this glint to it when he took a sip of his clear drink. I could smell the vodka from here.

“Me too,” I said, turning my attention to the space around us. “Isn’t this place so cool? I love all the columns and pillars and- oh! Excuse me, can I get an old fashioned? With an extra cherry in it?”

“Of course,” the bartender nodded, walking away to start mixing the drink.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for whiskey kinda girl,” Travis said, resting his elbows on the counter beside me.

“Oh, I’m not it’s for-”

“Tanner.” Harvey’s voice slithered down my spine. He sounded so… so repulsed.

“Harvey,” Travis pushed to his full height. “Nice to see you here-”

“What are you doing here.” It wasn’t a question.

“Your name is Tanner?” I asked. Why would he lie to me?

“No, no my name is Travis. Tanner is my last name.”

“She doesn’t give a shit about what your last name is. Now get the hell out of here.”

“Woah, calm down Harvey. I’m just talking with this beautiful lady, no need to twist your panties. I was here first, you don’t get to swoop in here and steal my conversation,” Travis frowned, setting the glass down rather harshly on the counter.

“Hey Yn, isn’t that an 8 carat diamond?” Harvey stood directly behind me, sliding his fingers down my left arm, grabbing my wrist and facing it towards Travis.

“Uhh, yeah what’s going-”

“That's right, it is. Funny how I knew that, isn’t it Tanner? Well, that’s because I bought it for her. So how about you get the hell out of here and if I ever catch you trying to flirt with my wife again I will put you six feet in the fucking dirt, do you understand me?”

My eyes damn near fell out of my fucking skull. I knew Travis was being polite, or flirting I guess, but I wasn’t going to let anything come of it, of course.

Travis looked like he was going to be sick. He scurried off, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

Harvey dropped my hand and reached around me to grab his freshly crafted drink.

“Okay, hotshot, what was that all about?”

“Do you remember that shit-show of a case that we fought a few months ago, the one that got reopened after four years?” I nodded. “Yeah, that was him. And that's the asshole who tried to have me disbarred.”

Holy shit. “Oh, fuck Harvey. I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he smiled faintly. “There’s no other reason he’s here tonight other than to piss me off.”

“Don’t let it get to you,” I said, standing up and taking his face in my hands. “Would you like to passionately make out in front of all these people just to make Travis Tanner mad?”

“Yes, yes I would like that very much,” Harvey grinned, linking his arm around my wait and pressing me close before sending a shiver down my spine with the force of his lips on mine.

“That guy is an asshole,” I said, needing a moment to catch my breath. Surely that did the trick, Travis was nowhere in sight. “You shouldn’t trust anyone with two first names, it’s weird.”

Harvey bellowed out a laugh, nodding his head over his shoulder. I could tell he wanted to leave, but I wouldn’t let him slink off without saying proper goodbyes to everyone that was worth an explanation as to where we fled to.

Donna didn’t need to see us leave, because I had a text on my phone with a bunch of eggplant and peace emoji’s with an accompanying message that said ‘GONNA BE SOME GOOD D TONIGHT GIRL’. She must’ve seen the whole interaction between Travis, Harvey and I.

All I sent back was a winky face.

By the time we got off the elevator, Harvey couldn’t keep his hands off of me. Not that I wanted him to, but we hadn’t even made it outside before his tongue was sweeping inside my mouth.

We pressed to the front door while jammed in the key, effortlessly unlocking it like he had done it a thousand times before. We crashed through, and Harvey wasted no time pinning me to the door.

“Mmm Harvey,” I whined into his mouth.

“Yes, pretty girl?” God damn did I love when he calls me that. “What do you need?”

“You, just you,” I looked at him through my lashes, watching that evil smirk wash over his features. Nothing could have stopped his hand clamping around my throat, pulling me off the door and into the kitchen. He hoisted me up onto the island and began to strip.

Harvey tossed his jacket onto the counter behind him, the tie was next. He made it painfully slow, doing nothing to hide his intentions of making it agonizing for me. I rolled my eyes, hands finding the buttons on his vest, flinging it over my shoulder.

“Needy,” he gripped my chin, crushing his mouth with mine. For a few minutes, or hours, we drank each other in. Restless hands and desperate pleas of need. Silk wrapped around my wrists, tight and commanding. I looked down and saw his tie around them, knotted in a figure eight and yanked until it burned.

“Harvey-”

“You’re mine. All. Mine. No one else has the right to do so much as think otherwise.” My core rippled with heat, eyes lulling shut at his words. “Aww, you like hearing that, don’t you? That I get to see you like this? All tied up? Such a pretty girl, Yn. I bet you’re such a mess for me already.”

He grabbed the fabric around my wrists and pulled me off the counter, flipping me over and forcing me to bend over. Harvey fisted up the hem of my skirt, quite literally tearing my thong off my hips.

I went to yell at him, but his finger dragged between my legs, and my spine shivered. “Fuck, Harvey…”

“You are a mess for me,” I could hear the possession in his voice. “Mmm, and you taste so sweet, Yn.”

I heard his fly unzip, the clang of his belt following after. My toes barely touched the ground as my forearms pressed against my ribs. I tried to scramble up a little so my hips fit with the edge of the counter, but Harvey just gripped the back of my hair and pulled me up.

He clicked his tongue, “Oh Yn, such a pretty thing you are. And I am going to have my way with you, and you’re gonna scream my name for the whole city to hear.”

I clenched my thighs together, pressing my forehead against the cool surface, though it quickly warmed with my breathing and panting. I felt the tip of his cock press against me, and his hips slowly met mine.

He pushed me further onto the counter, thankfully letting go of my hair before he pulled out.

Harvey’s hands on my hips were brutal; bruising my skin, commanding, feverish as they roamed my ass and thighs. Clawing marks.

“God Yn…” he sighed out, thrusting all the way back in, pulling my hips all the way flush with his. “Fuck you are so warm. So perfect for my cock.”

“Please,” I begged, wiggling my ass to entice him further.

“Please what, pretty girl? Come one, use your words.”

I shuddered around him, and he laughed at me. A cruel, wicked laugh as he stuffed himself further.

“Harder, I want- need it harder.”

“That’s my girl,” Harvey landed his palm on my ass, undoubtedly turning it bright red as he did it again. With one snap of his hips, and I knew I was gonna be ripped apart.

I didn’t know that much about Travis Tanner, but judging by the way this was going, Harvey really fucking hated the guy. If Harvey had any other enemies, maybe I should let them all flirt with me if it has the chance of turning into this.

My chest rammed across the counter, my thighs and pelvic bone rocking into the side of the island. It hurt, fuck did it hurt, but it made it so much better. Harvey’s brutal pace had him panting and groaning, cursing under his breath while he fisted his hand back in my hair.

I craned up, back aching with the force of his unyielding grip. It was hard to breathe, in the most soul fluttering way possible. It was such a euphoric feeling to be under his complete control.

“Yeah, you love this, don’t you? Being completely at my mercy? Submitting to my every decision?”

“Yes Harvey,” I whimpered. Full on whimpered. “Fuck-”

“Don’t be shy, pretty girl, let it all out for me to hear.”

He threw my head down, hair swinging around my shoulders and falling in my face. I let my head go limp, moans pouring out of my mouth. His hips slammed into mine, brutal and ruthless. Every inch of my body was on fire, veins pumping blood widely through my limbs, making them tingle. My toes curled, knees knocking into the wood paneling over and over and over.

I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t say anything, to get him to slow his pace. I writhed and cried out his name. I could hear it echo off the walls, and I knew our neighbors would be taping a complaint to our door by the morning.

“Fuck, baby, gonna cum,” he threw his head back, hips stuttering as he held on to my waist. “Fuck, Yn you are so fucking messy for me. Gonna fill you up.”

I squirmed when his finger brushed against my clit, chills spreading all down my arms and back. I felt tears prick my eyes. I hadn’t even realized how close I actually was to my release, and it slammed into me without any hint of a warning.

“Yeah, that's it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock,” Harvey’s voice was like a sin. Pure, raw, unfiltered sin.

His fingers circled and circled around, lighting my body and dragging out the waves of pleasure that rolled through me.

Harvey let out a string of curses, and his hips stilled. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me down onto him, hips ramming in once-twice-three-four times before he stilled. He bent over me, heaving for a breath against the middle of my back.

I called his name several times, unable to keep still. My hands were going numb from the bindings, and my knees and hips ached.

With a big inhale, Harvey lifted off my body. His hands trailed all the way down my back to my exposed ass, pulling it apart. “Well, would you look at that. So messy, full of me…”

My pussy clenched around him, and I felt his release slide down the inside of my thigh. His finger dragged his back up and speared it into my skin.

“That’s right, pretty girl, you’re all mine, aren’t you? Say it.”

“I’m yours Harvey, all yours,” I plead, wallowing in the feeling of pure bliss. His hands were much more gentle this time around when he lowered me back to the ground.

That mouth of his most certainly wasn’t. Harvey forced his tongue in, practically shoving it down my throat. I choked, and he grinned like the devil.

“Yeah, that’s right, Yn. You’re all mine. All fucking mine.”

I stared up at him in a starry daze. My head was foggy, and my legs were weak. “God do I love it when you get like this.”

Harvey’s hand caressed my cheek, thumb sweeping under my eye to where I’m sure my makeup was smudged.

“And god do I love it when you let me worship you, fucking you exactly like you deserve to be. No one else could ever fuck you as good as I can. Right, pretty girl?”

I grinned, equally as devilish as him, “Right, Harvey.”

~~~~~

Reader's dress

Harvey's suit

[solbaby7]

I know that the bar is swamped, but if you find the time and have the liquor, could I please have a neat Manhattan with a salt rim?

(Idk how to say this but like, submissive neat? If you're alright with that)

lololol “if you’re alr with that” babe, i’m foaming at the fucking mouth for it. this is gonna be a wee bit more than a blurb lemme tell u.

not edited teehee

[ “don’t make me put you on a leash” + smut + sub!az ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

Usually, you don’t mind needy.

The grabby hands pawing at your thighs. Kisses that linger on your neck, nose tracing the curve of your shoulder. Hushed words crooned into your ear to distract from the way eager fingers graze at the stitching of expensive lingerie.

It was his reprieve.

Azriel’s favorite way to unwind after spending his days as the dutiful spymaster. With you, he gets to lay down his weapons. Turns off the killer instinct that never seems to comprehend the meaning of a break. Hangs up the battle worn leathers that eats, sleeps, and breathes the contours of Azriel’s body.

But, with you? With you, he doesn’t bother about trivial things like power or strength. He relinquishes his title, shuns his duties, turns his back on honor and responsibility in favor of sinking down on his knees and turning all that over to you.

And usually, you don’t mind.

But the day had been especially stressful; never-ending and the open mouthed kisses trailing up the soft flesh of your inner thigh wasn’t loosening the tight knots embedded along your shoulderblades. “Knock it off.” You grumble softly, an achy spine hunched over glossy wood while weary eyes struggle to decipher the words written on parchment. Knuckles rub against your eyelids, toes nudging at the neat taper of his waist to push him off.

The gentle correction does no good for an impatient pet and Azriel only listens for but a second.

He tries again, going a different route when applying pecks to prettily pedicured toes. A palm curls around your ankle, fingers digging into your soles until a groan of approval rips free from your throat without permission.

Just like that, the damage is already done.

One sound becoming the equivalent of throwing him a bone. “That’s—that’s actually…really nice, Az.”

The praise satiates a need within him, urging him to keep it up, to try harder—to do things that had you gasping and yelping and screaming out raving reviews. It becomes an addiction; fueling an obsession that teases the fine line between devotion and fixation.

Every touch is annoyingly controlled, a soldiers training bleeding into the bedroom when giving his all on a task. He strives to be the best when coaxing knots coiled deep within the muscle of stiff calves, swiftly distracting from the way he suckles marks into the softness of supple thighs. “Feels good?”

“Mmhm,” The grip on your pen wavers, loosens, then falls altogether when Az urges his shadows through your hair; phantom fingers applying generous pressure to your scalp until lids flutter closed and your back slumps fully into your chair. “Just what I needed.”

It’s like adding gasoline to a fire.

You forget yourself when indulging yourself in its warmth; ignoring now flames grow when stoked—how they burn when life is breathed into it. How it eats and eats; singeing and charring, wringing out the life from the air and replacing it with soot.

By time you realize the damage, Azriel’s too far gone. Already high on the kerosene you splash at him and happily huffing in the fumes. “Can make you feel better.” Curious massaging morphs into outright groping, his hands eating at whatever he can hold as his tongue follows behind to lick up the crumbs. “Please, let me taste?”

You should say no.

He doesn’t exactly deserve it. Touching without permission. Refusing to sit still. Begging for treats instead of waiting patiently like good boys should. Whining when you weakly start pushing him back. Growling when you attempt to close your legs.

They’re all red flags—behaviors that warrant correction and yet you ignore them all when Azriel looks up at you with those eyes.

Like vats of honey in the sunlight, absolutely oozing with sticky sweet submission; staring up at you like you were an angel gifted from the heavens.

You suppose the day had been long.

And even gods praise their most dutiful servants.

Teeth bite into the fat of your cheek as feet neatly perch at the edge of your seat, knees parting open as you give into selfish desire. “Fine.” He’s all but drooling before you can get the word out, staring at the skin bared to him. You glisten under faelight, ego inflating when you catch the way Azriel ogles the thin slip of cotton separating you from his prize. “Only a little though. Have to make sure you save room for dinner.”

Dinner be damned for the only feast Azriel craved was between your thighs and he wastes no time digging in once given the go ahead.

His tongue paints a trail up the seam of your pussy and the harsh line of your shoulders finally eases. Two fingers spread you open while the slick muscle circles the rim of your entrance and that rigid knot in your spine finally knows peace.

Satisfaction melts your discipline down more than acceptable, that much becomes apparent when Azriel’s muffled moans shift into sloppy grunts. His nose is all but buried in your cunt, arousal shiny on his lips and dripping down the curve of his chin.

It doesn’t take long for it to get sloppy. Spit sliding down the cleft of your ass, smearing along inner thighs and on the seat cushion below. But you forget to care when you notice the flush of Az’s cheeks, the shallow heave of his chest as the need to coax those wrecked sounds from your mouth outweighed the need to breathe. “Hey,” You huff out, peering down at him, stomach fluttering when he only burrows himself deeper, tongue fucking into a drooling hole. “You need to come up for air.”

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

Common sense and rationality left itself at the door, tossed away intentionally out of sight so he has a reason to keep eating and eating and eating.

This time you don’t melt under the pleasure, thighs clenching around his head, smushing his cheeks as you ban access to your fountain of youth. “The mouth on you is pure sin, might almost make up for the fact that you’re a shit listener.” He’s a right mess, cheeks red and lips swollen. One hand furiously stroking at a desperate prick. His mouth opens to complain—maybe to beg, but your thighs only squeeze tighter, teeth digging into the soft part of his cheeks in gentle correction. “By the cauldron, I’ll leash you.”

It only stokes his fire, fresh logs added to keep the inferno from flickering away; abdomen flexing as his body reacts to the threat.

Please, please, please! Azriel’s eyes scream.

You should say no.

Though, restraint had never really been your strong suit.

“If you’re so willing to rob yourself of air for the sake of a cunt, then I suppose we’ll just have to see how long you can hold your breath.”

[livelaughlovesubs]

thoughts on dazai and chuuya w/ mommy kinks (if it makes u uncomfy sorry(

It’s alright dear, I don’t mind. I can’t say it’s my favourite (being called mommy), but I like taking care of my partner, so the service aspect of it

Anyway, less about me, more about the characters (also tag: @nvllxiety)

Dazai & chuuya with a mommy/ daddy kink?

Dom!reader x sub!dazai / chuuya

Dazai

Dazai would fucking love it, that man has so many kinks to begin with, and this is definitely one of them

He just wants to be a sugar baby fr 😔

That man just loves being carefree and doing whatever he wants, he doesn’t want to be tied to capitalism (or work) so having someone take care of him is just what he needs

For selfish reasons, but oh well. No ones perfect.

And so in bed too, laying back and letting you take care of everything, making him feel good

Especially how loving and passionate you’d be, holding him and patting his head, telling him what a good boy he is. How much you love him, how he’s your lovely baby. Maybe you’d rub his belly every once in a while, kissing his cheeks and coo at him.

It’s weird how his heart would feel so warm whenever you do this, and he gets more embarrassed then when you degrade him (he gets turned on by that, not embarrassed)

At the same time your other hand’s on his dick stroking him so nicely

He’d even call you that title, which is meant for bedroom only, in public

Just to tease you of course. Will you punish him for being a bad boy?

Dazai likes a lot of things, whether or not you treat him all gentle like this or all strict and rough, as long as he feels pleasure and can forget the reality everything’s fine

Just keep your attention on him >:[

He haven’t felt this wanted and loved for a while now, so don’t get distracted and keep your eyes on him

Chuuya

Chuuya would be very embarrassed whenever he calls you that

Saying things like: do I really have to?

It’s not that he doesn’t like it, it just feels unfamiliar- He has never called anyone that after all

Since you like it, he’ll do it, he likes seeing you happy. It proves he isn’t just a monster who only knows to bring pain

You taking care of him would be something you want yourself, because he’d be more than happy to serve you. He loves hearing you praise him when he’d do a good job.

So he’d be extra embarrassed when you decide to have him lay down, and leave everything to you. Caressing his body, kissing him and make him squirm

It feels so strange that he’s doing nothing and only enjoying all this! Are you sure you take pleasure in pleasuring him? Shouldnt he, well, do anything?

That’s why, most of the time, he just starts being a brat. All this affection thing is making him feel so hot, it’s almost unbearable

And every time you’d reassure him you enjoy it, you loved his reactions, his trembles, his whimpers and his body. Brushing your finger tips against every inch, trying out what he likes. Even if he’s being a brat. Most of the time he doesn’t take it too far, most of the time

Tell him you love him, how much you adore him and suddenly his tough, rebellious attitude just fades away

God you are so shameless aren’t you? How can you say such words without getting red, unlike him?

All in all he loves the adoration and affection you give him, but doesn’t know how to return it without being of service to you :<

It might end with him buying expensive presents in the end

[saeglaazzer]

Title: After the Whistle

Pairing: Dom!Sae Itoshi x Bratty!Reader

Setting: Locker Room (Post-Match)

CW: NSFW themes (consensual), locker room setting, dom/sub dynamics, brat taming, dirty talk, tension build-up

Word count: ~1k

The whistle blew, and the roar of the crowd barely registered in Sae’s ears. His gaze wasn’t on the scoreboard — they’d won, of course — but on you.

You were still juggling the spare ball near the bench, all too casual in that snug little jersey he told you not to wear in public. It clung to your body like a second skin, your shorts barely hanging on as you flicked the ball from knee to toe like you didn’t just spend the entire match taunting him with those sly glances and smug little smirks.

You’d been playing with fire all game. And you knew it.

He didn’t say a word as he walked past the media scrum and into the locker room, peeling his sweat-slick jersey off. You followed — of course you did — bouncing the ball once, twice, before letting it roll to a stop at his feet.

“Nice match, captain,” you said, voice dripping with faux innocence. “Bet you were thinking about me the whole time.”

Sae didn’t respond at first. Just turned, eyes sharp as a blade, taking in the way you leaned against the lockers — hip cocked, lip caught between your teeth. Testing him.

“You wore that on purpose,” he said finally, stepping closer. “Didn’t you.”

You shrugged. “What, this old thing?”

His hand was at your throat before you could blink — not squeezing, just holding. Possessive. Controlling. You gasped softly, thighs instinctively clenching.

“That mouth of yours,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, “is going to get you in trouble.”

“Maybe I want trouble.”

He smirked — the kind that sent a shiver straight through you. “Then get on your knees.”

You opened your mouth to tease, to push, but one raised brow from him had you sinking, palms pressed to his thighs as you stared up. You swore you saw his composure crack just a bit. The sweat on his abs, the heat radiating off his skin — it all made your mouth water.

“You were such a fucking brat today,” he muttered, fingers tangling in your hair. “Flashing those thighs, biting your lip every time you knew I was watching. What were you trying to prove?”

“That I could make you lose focus,” you said, grinning. “Guess I win.”

He chuckled — dark, low, unamused. “No, baby. I’m just getting started.”

And then he dragged you up, spinning you and slamming you gently against the cool locker door. Your cheek pressed to the metal as he pulled your shorts down with infuriating slowness.

“You don’t get to win,” he whispered against your ear. “Not when you beg for my attention like that.”

You whined, arching back against him. “You like it.”

“I tolerate it.”

Lie.

You felt him against you — hot, hard, and fully invested. His hand slid down your spine, palm pressing into your lower back to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

“I’m going to make you remember who you belong to,” he said, dragging his fingers over the wet heat between your legs. “Since you seem to forget the second I’m not inside you.”

You moaned, breath fogging the locker door, hands fisting at your sides. “Then shut up and remind me.”

Sae growled — actually growled — and in the next moment, your bratty little smirk was swallowed by a moan that echoed off the steel walls.

He didn’t hold back.

And by the end of it, the only sound louder than your cries was the bang of the locker behind you — and his voice in your ear, breathless, cocky, victorious:

“Game over, princess. I win.”

[mono-blogs-art]

23.5 - Sapphic Highschool Fluff Done Right

You'd think that a "classic highschool romance" is easy to do - but sometimes what seems easy takes a lot of effort to pull off right. 23.5 is simple, silly, lovingly crafted fluffy excellence with a fantastic cast and will give you butterflies like you didn't expect it to! Here's my full review - totally spoiler free this time!

Summary: Overall: 9/10 - I really, really loved it! Genre: Highschool Rom-Com Watch if you're looking for...: tooth-achingly sweet fluff, a wonderfully diverse and well-developed queer ensemble, a classic teen rom-com that will still get you in your feels Watch out for...: no warnings necessary Length: 12 episodes averaging about 45 mins each Where to watch: GMMTV's YouTube channel, all episodes are available with subs in multiple languages!

Full title "23.5 องศาที่โลกเอียง" (The Earth's Axis Tilts by 23.5 Degrees), based on the novel of the same name by author Blue, the show strides new territory as production company GMMTV's first major lesbian/GL show. It stars "Milk" Pansa Vosbein and "Love" Pattranite Limpatiyakorn, who have previously played sapphic side couples together on other GMMTV shows and now get their time to shine as 23.5's main characters.

Ongsa just moved from Phuket to Bangkok and knows no one at her new highschool - except her older sister, her weird cousin, and Sun, a girl in her new class who she's had a crush on for months. While incredibly awkward in real life, Ongsa's online persona "Earth" is able to communicate with Sun effortlessly and soon, Sun falls for Earth - thinking it's a guy, and not knowing that it's actually Ongsa. At the same time, Ongsa and Sun get closer at school as they try to revive the school's astronomy club with their friends.

If I could just sum up the show in one word it would be silly. It's funny, cute, and whimsical like you'd expect what happens when you revolve around a mostly nerdy and/or awkward cast of teenagers. There are tons of goofy sound effects, cute music ("Tilt", the shows opening title sequence, is the best opening of any GL show I've watched this year), and we get all the classic teen rom-com tropes happening. Just gayer. It was cringey in some parts - mainly why I feel like I can only give this show a 9/10 - but inoffensive to me and I still really enjoyed it.

Ongsa: One of the strongest points this show has is that it has an excellent heroine - Ongsa is incredibly fun and relatable. Whether it's watching her spiral when she gets into something too deep, or fearing for her as she traps herself in an increasingly greater net of lies, she's entertaining and captivating and I found myself really rooting for her through it all. Her decisions feel real and even when she fucks up, you can't help but want to help her. She's kind, but incredibly scared and cowardly too. Milk is great at physical acting, it really makes Ongsa feel like this awkward, lanky teen that wishes nothing more than to have a quiet life but keeps getting into Situations™️. She's just a baby closeted lesbian stuck between her first romantic feelings and the pressure of everyday highschool life, and badly equipped to handle either of those things. Even though she has no idea what she's doing, ever, ultimately she decides to be better and admit that she needs to work on herself, for herself. Ongsa is one of my favourite protagonists of this year, and I think she really deserves it.

Sun: Much like her namesake, Sun is a ray of sunshine. She's popular, pretty, smart, and kind to everyone, not to forget confident and selfless. Also, she drives a cute yellow scooter. You immediately understand why Ongsa has a huge crush on her: she's the classic crush in any highschool rom-com. In the beginning, that's all we really see of her - the way Ongsa sees her through her rose-tinted glasses. But what really makes Sun interesting is what we see in the second half of the series. When things start to go wrong, Sun starts to really open up and becomes touchable. She's easily jealous, irritable, and a bit of a crybaby. Just like Ongsa, communication is hard for her (even if she is doing marginally better than Ongsa), but unlike Ongsa, she thinks she's straight. Seeing her start to put 2 and 2 together about her feelings towards Ongsa is wonderful to watch, and I could watch her little face of queer joy any day on my screen. Sun's side of the story is given just as much thought as Ongsa's is and I'm incredibly happy that we got to see it. She's just too damn cute!!

Side Characters: In my opinion, 23.5 especially shines in its supporting characters - and this is never more true than with Aylin. I think I'm not exaggerating when I say you should watch this show just for her, because she's the best character of the show. I off-handedly referred to her in my summary as Ongsa's "weird cousin" but Aylin honestly deserves an entire essay of her own - I love her so much. Aylin is alone, and she's alright with it. The only people she talks to is her family, and she refers to everyone simply as "human". Aylin is obsessed with finding aliens and spends all of her time with her gadgets trying to receive signals or crafting and researching in her room. She involuntarily gets dragged into Ongsa's love troubles as she becomes her confidant, and although Aylin is stand-off-ish at first she begins to really start caring about Ongsa and the others. What I like about Aylin is that her loner nature or strange hobbies aren't mocked or fixed by the show, she only expands into unfamiliar territories she was too scared or hurt to do before. She starts making friends, she starts sharing her interests, and she falls in love.

Other than Aylin, the most fleshed-out side character is Alpha, Ongsa's older sister. Her little arc of trying to take care of her sister and her younger cousin but also being frustrated at always being left in the dark was nice. Alpha's friends from the student council - Marwin, Ton, and Luna - are also fun, especially Luna, who gets her own sideplot as the first person to befriend Aylin. In Ongsa's class, we also have Tin and Charoen as her first friends at the new school, who quickly figure out that she likes Sun and support her. Each character is distinct and meshes well into the ensemble. And having so many fun characters together makes the show lively and feel real.

I could not leave this review without talking about the side couples. And we get 2 entirely separate sapphic sidestories, additional to OngsaSun's main story.

Nida, Ongsa's English teacher, and Bambam, who is the astronomy club's supervisor, have their own little romance when the kids are asleep. Although both of them are adults, the characters are goofy enough to still fit well into the show's tone - and they are just so stupid and CUTE. I was utterly obsessed with their scenes and I'm glad we got to see them. The actresses are also both trans, so to have a middle-aged, sapphic sideplot about two trans women was heavenly. I could watch a show just about them.

I could say the same thing about the other secondary romance plot, which revolves around Aylin and Luna. In a really interesting way, they are the mirror pair to Ongsa & Sun, fulfilling the Popular Girl X Weird Girl trope, but the dynamic is completely different. Seeing Luna claw her way into Aylin's heart and then have Aylin come out by herself and let Luna in all the way was just kind of a show-stealer. Whenever we got to the two of them, I got giddy. Not to bash OngsaSun in any way - but AylinLuna was my top pair of the show.

Visuals: 23.5 also looks great. The colors are nice, camerawork is good, and like I said, the opening title sequence is amazing also in visuals. It's the one I actually go back to watch and don't mind not skipping. The theme of the solar system, particularily for the Earth & Sun metaphors and the recurring alien theme give everything a nice framing and allows the characters to come together organically. I thought it was used pretty well. We've got so many space lesbians this year, man.

"Is it for me/you?" - Conclusion

Now I'm gonna be totally honest: I've been out of highschool and lost interest in highschool stories for a while, whether it's manga or dramas. I'm just not 17 anymore, and I don't need to revisit my own 17-y.o. drama via proxy. When 23.5 was recommended to me, I wasn't sure if I'd actually end up liking it. And don't get me wrong - although I'm not the target audience, that doesn't mean I don't love that shows like this exist. Quite the opposite actually. There always needs to be more queer stories told for all different kinds of demographics!

All that being said - I went in with low expectations and was blown away just how much I loved 23.5. It is so well made, characters are relatable and taken seriously by the narrative enough for everyone to enjoy, even if I don't have the problem of failing my classes anymore. While all things around highschool anxieties are discussed - your first love, first kiss, bullying, clique anxiety, and what you're going to do after graduating - and maybe that won't be relatable for you, I personally found it all packaged up nicely within the different stories of 23.5. Things like sex and homophobia don't really come up. So if you're looking for something spicier or more angsty, then I suggest you go looking elsewhere. For everyone who's on board though: I highly recommend giving 23.5 a try!

I've been extremely impressed with GMMTV's shows so far - I'm currently watching Pluto and impressed and obsessed with it - and so I'm already excited for Milk & Love's next projects together that have already been announced. 2025 is looking delicious, and I hope they can keep improving further. Until then, my time with 23.5 will remain in good memory.

Thanks for reading! Go enjoy watching, and if you do, leave me a message. Cheers!

^ me when I'm born swagless but forced to be a natural girlcharmer

[vaokses]

I worked the blade to make it deeper

Series Masterlist / General Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Nearly two years have gone by since you left with your mother for Dragonstone, and yet your absence is as sharp as the first day. Rumors spread through King's Landing about how a Tyrell knight has captured your heart, and these rumors haunt Aegon, from the Keep to the taverns, leading him, drunk and reckless, to a brothel in the Street of Silk. Not in search of comfort, or in search of some illusion of you to keep him company through the night, but in search of something else.

Word Count: 4.4k 

Warnings: 18+. Smut (slight). Prostitution. Dubious consent. Drunkenness, alcohol consumption. Voyeurism. Self-harming or self-destructive actions/thoughts. Aegon's head is not in a good place at all. Descriptions/Allusions to panic attacks. A lot of angst, just a lot of it. Hurt and no comfort. Allusions to bad BDSM practices. I write this with sub!Aegon in mind, by the way, I don't know how explicit it is in this work, but it's there, and I'm warning you in case it's not your cup of tea. If I missed any warning tags, I apologize, and please let me know.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Same universe as How long this love can hold its breath and the Pirtir series. This takes place nearly a year before the beginning of the story, around four or so months before the other Aegon PoV chapter. You don't need to read either to read this tho.

A/N: So, I couldn't get this idea out of my head. It mixes some of book!Aegon's approach to intimacy/sex because I find it really interesting. This is just a lot of angst, but his character is so fucking sad, I can't help myself. I'll write some fluff for him at some point, I promise.

Title is from "Love opened a mortal wound. In agony, I worked the blade to make it deeper." by Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz.

All of this would be easier if he could just forget, Aegon gathers. If he could just forget about you, about what he lost and what he didn’t have, then everything would be easier. The quiet of the Keep wouldn’t feel so deafening, the future ahead of him would be a tad less unbearable. 

And he wouldn’t be sneaking around like an idiot, eavesdropping on his mother and his grandsire’s conversation because he heard your name. 

“That boy will hand the Blacks the Reach if we do not step in,” Alicent argues, voice laden with worry. “His father is old, and he hasn’t inherited his judiciousness, his restraint.” 

“Lord Alisdair might still bend, once the Princess leaves Highgarden and his blood cools. Nothing makes a man as bold as a woman’s smile.” 

“Her smile, or the promise of her hand?” 

Aegon feels as if a weight had been dropped on his chest, and yet he does not even think about tearing himself away from here, about ceasing in his listening for any news of you. The closest he can get to you, nowadays. 

“No arrangements have been made yet, and if t-…” 

“My lord husband will approve if Rhaenyra asks this of him, you know this. He will wed her granddaughter to the Tyrell boy himself if it is her who asks.” 

“Has she asked?”  

A few beats of silence, the seconds before an executioner’s sword finds a neck. 

“It is a matter of time.” 

___ 

It is as natural as breathing, to Aegon, to escape the confines of the Red Keep by now, to evade his guards and sneak into the city.  

Now he sits alone -he shrunk from his usual company, he isn’t sure even why-,  nursing yet another jug of mead and chasing languidly for the welcome stupor of a stiff drink, and finds that not even here do you stop tormenting him. 

“My sister was there for the tourney in Highgarden,” A woman comments, carelessly loud as she speaks to the group of people sitting with her, a table away from Aegon’s. “She said the eldest of House Redwyne gifted the Princess a mare.” 

“As dragon food?” The man she sits on the lap of asks, prompting her to laugh. 

“I would like a mare as a gift,” One of the girls argues, at another’s scoff arguing, “What? What is wrong with that?” 

“The Princess rides Vermithor. What is a fucking horse against the second largest dragon in the world?” 

The wench that is sent to refill Aegon’s drink presses against him unnecessarily, and her hand traces over his shoulders as she moves away. He feels her gaze on him, watching raptly to see if he follows her with his own gaze, if he wishes to play along. 

He mislikes this, these games, playing pretend at seduction. It feels even more false than it already is, fucking a woman, if she likes pretending she wants something beyond the tenuous oblivion they can find in one another. 

“You gather she’s coming here anytime soon?” The man from the other table asks, diverting his attention to them -to you- once again. 

“I don’t think so. Everyone would be scurrying about in preparation. Whenever there’s something brewing up in the Keep we have more work months ahead.” 

“I hear she’ll summer in Highgarden.” One of the younger girls comments. 

The old woman’s laughter is shrill, grating. Gloating, almost. At least that is what it sounds like, to him. 

“Of course she is. Alasdair Tyrell has returned from the Shield Islands, and victorious at that. Made them swear to her cause, apparently.” 

“To Rhaenyra’s?” 

“No.” 

Silence follows the simple answer. Aegon motions for the wench to refill his drink, which she doesn’t do quickly enough. 

“Oh,” The man breathes. Short little chuckles escape his chest, and he praises, “Clever lad, eh?” 

“‘Tis quite a wedding gift, is it not?” 

Aegon takes fast, perhaps hurried, gulps from the flagon, but the mead isn’t enough to drown out their voices. 

“So she has agreed to it?” 

“She is a young girl, and he a knight who has more than proven his devotion. He doesn’t have her hand yet, but I’d bet he has her heart.” 

“So it isn’t just Vermithor she wants to ride,” The man boasts, followed by what sounds like a slap. “Ow!” 

“‘Tis the future Queen you speak of, you fool.” 

He should stop himself, but he doesn’t want to. Aegon turns to them and asks,  

“And the future wife of Lord Tyrell, no?” 

“My Prince.” One -or a few, he doesn’t really care- of them greets, and a few heads bow, but he motions their empty platitudes away. 

“It is a…a joyous thing, a betrothal. And one made for love, at that,” He smiles at them, but they don’t smile back. They look at him like he’s seen hunters look at cornered beasts, they look at him as if they’re afraid of him. “We don’t see much of those nowadays, do we?” 

“No, my Prince.” The older man agrees, still cautious. 

He isn’t an idiot, he knows that he wasn’t…that you don’t feel for him what he does for you, that you don’t think about him as often as he thinks about you. But some part of him, foolish and perhaps more than a little masochistic, still hoped the truth might be another. 

Still hoped, against hope, against reason, that you might one day return, that you might still choose him. 

“A cause for celebration then, isn’t it?” He asks, standing up and swaying slightly on his feet. Their faces are guarded, careful, and though he makes his best attempt at another smile, shameless and debauched, it seems they see through it. He pushes on, “Drinks for all! On me!” 

He plays along, he plays his part, for a while. The mead keeps flowing, and when it ceases, he switches to wine. Watered down and tasteless, but it washes away the ashes the memory of you leaves on his tongue. 

And the loud voices and cheers of the people in the tavern drown out even his thoughts for a while, but he finds that tonight the wine does not make his thoughts any easier to bear. It seems instead to make them louder, to make the ache deep in his chest sharper, worse. 

As the night goes on, his thoughts get louder and the crowd around him quieter as they return to their homes, and Aegon refuses to return to the quiet, the solitude, of the Red Keep. 

___ 

Long ago, years ago, he would come to places such as this and ask them to be soft with him, to hold him and treat him gently, to be what he imagined you would be -what he glimpsed at, what he had, for however short a while it was-, to grant him what he supposed he might have had, were you to have stayed. 

But he understood fairly quickly that it just made everything worse, that it made the absence much sharper, the emptiness gnaw at him with renewed strength; and so he started refusing them whenever they tried to offer anything gentle. They did it wrong, anyways, it just made him feel brittle and cold and alone, and he prefers the distance, and the oblivion it provides, over the hollowness that their false warmth leaves him with. 

The months and then the years went by, and you never returned, not even a glimpse of you and Vermithor on the distant skies, not even a short visit with your family, not even a fucking letter; and Aegon can no longer hold on to the fantasy that you might have wanted him, that you could have loved him. 

He gathers that it was for the better, that the illusion has shattered. It makes it easier, to find oblivion buried in some whore or another, to have his nights away from the Keep be the reprieve they ought to be. It makes it easier to make things quiet again, to lose himself when he can force his useless heart out of the way.  

But he often trips on it. His heart, that is. 

And sometimes his yearning overpowers his reason, and he finds himself searching for a shadow of you, a version of you that still wants him. Despite the ache and the absence, he still can’t bring himself to ask any of the women to pretend to care for him, to pretend to love him, anymore. 

He tells himself it is enough that they look like you when the lights are dim and wine clouds his senses, that they don’t say anything when it is your name he calls out. He tells himself it is enough to have this, and that to ask for more would be to ask to be torn open. 

But the absence remains, the hollowness remains, a void gnawing away at him, hungrier and hungrier the longer he indulges in foolish illusions, in tricks of the light.  

At his weakest, he asks them to prove to him what he already knows to be true. That you, fantasy or real, illusion or not, do not care for him, do not love him. That you, upon knowing what he has made out of himself, aware of what they will ask him to become, have come to hate him. So he asks them to hurt him, to refuse him, to turn away from him.  

He doesn’t understand why he does it, why he still chases after that when it leaves him just as empty as asking for anything else does. He doesn’t understand the part of him that finds comfort in his own ruin. 

He doesn’t understand why he comes here, why he is restless as he crosses the doors into the familiar brothel, why he feels his throat close up at the sounds and scents of this place, why his chest feels tight with something between desperation and dread as he sets out to…to do what it takes to make his thoughts stop, to make himself understand that he must forget. 

He finds the one he’s looking for fairly easily, long silver hair and deep red dress amidst a sea of heads of dark hair and half-naked bodies. Her back is turned to him, and the wine makes the sight resemble a familiar dream for a moment, and his breath catches. 

But when he reaches her and she turns to face him, the face isn’t a familiar one, the eyes are wrong, and the smile is a mockery of yours. 

He still extends a hand, wordless, to ask her to join him. 

It’s almost funny, that for all he despises his ancestry, what he has inherited; in the eyes of any of the patrons of this establishment he is but another Targaryen man, looking to get it wet only with the ones that, real or no, reflect the blood of a lost world. 

It is preferrable that they don’t know any better. He’d rather be his father’s son than the fool that yearns for a woman he cannot have. 

Aegon isn’t sure why he’s doing this, why he has come here, why tonight the wine has made the pain only sharper, more unbearable. He isn’t sure if he’s punishing himself, for being as stupid as to allow himself to hope you’d return to him; or if he’s just resigning himself to the truth that is, forcing himself to shatter with his own hands, before his very eyes, the fantasy of what could have been. 

But he wants this, he…he needs this.  

“And you,” He calls out, pointing to a well-built young man with warm eyes and chestnut hair. Quite close to a knight. Quite close to a Tyrell, even. Aegon offers him a smile, wide and lecherous. It is a lie, but it is one he himself believes, and the false merriment keeps him safe. “You will join us.” 

The man takes Aegon’s free hand, and he lets them lead him to a private room, of dim lights and of air heavy with incense. In the midst of the hanging curtains, the many candles, and the huge bed in the center of it all, Aegon feels for a moment as if he’s suffocating. 

“What can we do for you, my Prince?” The woman asks, voice low, sultry, dripping with false sweetness. 

A nauseating blend of anxiousness and dread rise within him, and though he reaches for the glass of wine on a nearby table, downing the drink in two gulps in an attempt to chase these feelings away, they linger. 

Aegon watches, numbly, as the man reaches for a pitcher and refills his cup without a word. It is welcome, almost a comfort, the weight of a full glass in his hand. 

“I…I want to watch,” Aegon admits, voice hoarse in what he absently hopes they confuse with lust. “The two of you. I want to watch the two of you.” 

There’s a chair near the bed but far enough, aimed towards it. He has the absent thought of how many must come here not for participation but for a show, and Aegon tries clinging to that small observation, amuse himself to thoughts of what others come to do in these places; but his mind, anticipating and yet dreading what is to come, lingers on the present. 

His gaze, unfocused and staring at nothing but the faint memories he wishes would leave him, cannot look at them as the man and woman undress and sit together in bed, looking at him.  

He cannot look at them, and yet he feels their gazes on him. He feels as if he were the one naked, the one on display, asked to put up a show. 

“My Prince?” The woman calls out, forcing his eyes to focus on her. 

She awaits instruction, and he finds he can’t give it. 

It is a painful reality, a mortifying truth, that he does not know how to offer softness, gentleness. Or how to receive it. Or how to witness it, even. 

In losing you, he gathers he also lost the part of him that knew of the softness of a gentle touch, that knew how not to shatter at the thought of warmth. 

And now he can’t even make this…this pretender, already a poor mimicry of you, portray your warmth, the gentleness of your affection; and Aegon cannot even witness a glimpse of the warmth and the softness that you surely now give freely to that fool on the far end of the world. 

It dawns on him then, that he has forgotten pieces of you, that he has lost part of you to time and to distance. And realization isn’t a weight dropped on his chest, or the ground giving in under his feet, no; realization is a slow pressure, a shrinking tunnel, an exhale that left him too late to realize he wouldn’t be able to inhale again. 

He grabs for the cup with shaking fingers, grips it so tight he fears it might crack, and downs the rest of the drink. But the numbness is escaping him, slipping like sand between his fingers, and the haziness has given way to something much worse, to a quickly-beating heart and thoughts chasing themselves in circles. 

And all the wine does now is make him feel as if he’s only further drowning, further losing whatever grasp he has at himself. He still drinks. 

What can he tell her? That he wishes to be hurt, punished, for his weakness, for his faults? That he wishes to see what he has lost, what he never had, what he never will have?  

That he wants for the thoughts to stop, for the pain to stop, and he only knows how to escape them with this, with sex; but the memory of you lingers too close, a knife wedged next to his heart, for him to even consider enduring another’s touch tonight? 

He tells her the truth instead, and if instead of a command it sounds like an accusation, he does not care. 

“You love him.”  

It is all the instruction he can give. He does not know what love looks like, what love feels like, so even if she doesn’t either and the act is a poor one, Aegon won’t know the difference. 

The man and woman fall easily into the parts they must play, pressing their bodies together and sharing a deep kiss, letting their hands explore each other slowly, with the pace of two people with all the time in the world, with the calm of those who have promised each other a lifetime. Aegon watches, and the nakedness of their bodies does not seem lewd, instead it betrays an intimacy, a warmth, that makes the void in his chest awaken with an oppressive sort of longing. 

Aegon’s gaze lingers on him, on the ‘knight’. He finds he cannot look away, and it isn’t jealousy that overwhelms him, or anger; instead, all that fills his him at the sight is dread, and morbid fascination.  

The man’s fingers are buried within her, his lips at her throat, and Aegon feels as if a knife were slowly embedded somewhere within his chest. With each breath, the knife digs deeper, tears further at an old wound, and yet he doesn’t look away. Instead, his breath quickens. 

And he knows it’s an act, that they’re playing at sharing a love they do not know or have, but he doesn’t know it or have it either, and sitting here he only feels more alone.  

But he cannot join them. Because you do not want him. 

After what he isn’t sure if it is a moment or an eternity, darkened gazes flicker to him, awaiting his permission, his command, to go on, with quickened breaths. Though for a moment Aegon finds himself staring back, unmoored and uncertain, he quickly recovers and stutters a response to go on with it. 

The man grunts a curse against her breasts as he enters her in one swift motion, and she sighs at the feeling, hoarse little moan rumbling past her lips as she adjusts to having him inside her. 

They start moving together, and though the sight before him is an objectively alluring one, and if nothing else he should be able to focus on the sounds leaving their lips, on the sound and scent of sex filling the room, Aegon finds himself not even slightly aroused. 

Then again, he didn’t expect to. He might enjoy pain sometimes, and perhaps even seek it, but seeing a mirror -however muddied, however imperfect- of the woman he loves making love to someone else is something out of a nightmare, not something he might enjoy stroking his cock to.  

He didn’t think it’d hurt like this, though. He feels useless tears stinging at his eyes, and his breath hitches, because he expected it to hurt, but he didn’t think it’d torture him like this. 

And yet he can’t bring himself to stop them, feels undeserving of intruding upon their -your-, however false, love. With a breathed little laugh that only further blurs the lines between the reality of two paid whores acting out what he wants and the mirages of two people on the far end of the world, the woman switches their positions, straddling him. 

Unprompted, the man sits up, mouths at her neck as she aligns his cock with her cunt again. Slowly, sensually, she starts riding him. 

Aegon sniffles, tries hiding a stuttered breath, and leans forward. What he means to sound like an order, like an instruction, is voiced instead as a plea,  

“H-…I want you to hold him, while…while you ride him. Hold him against you.” 

She does as he commands, and the sight of their embrace is enough to force Aegon to look away, flinch away from pain as sharp as a hit. He reaches for the pitcher of wine, movements hurried and jittery, and pours himself another glass, uncaring that it spills. 

He gives another order, another command. One after another. He tells the man, for he is naught but a lucky fool that doesn’t even see the fortune bestowed upon him, how to touch you, how to make you feel good, how to make you his.  

They lose themselves in each other, waiting for no further instruction, exchanging caresses and kisses and breathed moans as they move together, as one. 

Aegon feels his composure, weak and brittle as it was already, begin to crumble. His hands grip at the armrests of the chair and tears burn at his eyes. He’s trembling, but neither of them stop, because neither of you notice, because you have each other, and he does not matter. 

He shakes his head, tries thinking clearly past the daze of alcohol and grief, and reminds himself it’s them. They’re strangers, they’re pretenders. He clings to that reminder. 

And yet each whispered word that they share, each shared breath, each tender touch, it feels as if it’s mocking him, taunting him with what he cannot have, what he can only watch from afar. 

The effect of the wine and the tears spilling from his eyes blur the edges of his vision, making the already stifling room seem smaller, the air thicker. Each breath feels pulled from his lungs, his body at the command of someone else, because he still cannot look away. 

He understands better than ever why Helaena presses her palms to her ears when the crowds get too loud. He wants nothing more than to cover his ears, close his eyes, hide himself and get away. Why is he here, why is he doing this? 

He doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t want this to happen. And yet he can’t stop watching, why can’t he stop this? 

She’s close to the edge, he can tell, and while he needs for this to be over, he cannot stand the thought of it at the same time. 

It is unbearable, and he stands from that chair, not to approach them but to step away. The room spins around him, his balance fails him, his voice fails him. 

She clings to him, hides her face in the knight’s neck and away from Aegon’s view. She looks like you, and she sounds like you, and he lost you he lost you he lost you. 

“Tell him you love him.” The voice is his, but not really, and he hears it from far away, from somewhere beyond the panicked cadence of his breaths, from a dream in which it is your love for him that Aegon asks to hear. 

You bring your knight closer to you, hand tangling in short tresses of chestnut hair. Your mouth is close to his ear, your voice a breath, a promise Aegon knows he shouldn’t be allowed to hear,  

“I love you.” 

You shatter, and so does Aegon. 

Her cry of pleasure and the knight’s mask the horrified sob that leaves Aegon’s chest at what he has done, at what he has tainted; and in their shared ecstasy they thankfully do not see him squeeze his eyes shut and cravenly look away, face crumpled in agony. 

He stumbles back onto the chair, some absent voice in the back of his mind reminding him it is unfitting of a prince to fall on the ground, that the people cannot see him on his knees. 

He thought he’d be in control, that if he commanded them, if he was… 

His thoughts matter not, what he expected matters not. The fantasy, painful as it was, has shattered, and the jagged pieces of it dig into him like glass. 

Aegon slumps in the chair, his body exhausted and worn. He feels used, wretched, and despite the weariness consuming his very bones, his mind remains restless, agitated. 

And the silence that lingers after they are done is worse, almost. He cannot bear to look at them.

“You…you can leave,” He tells them. A breath, two, and with a rush of energy he doesn’t have, Aegon stands up instead. The movement feels uneven, exaggerated, and he grabs at the back of the chair to keep himself from falling over. With his free hand, he gestures at them to stay where they are, and corrects himself, “I-I will leave. I’m…I’m the one intruding, am I not?” 

They don’t laugh, so he does. Or he tries to, but what leaves him is this manic little sound, this choked sob. 

He moves to leave the room, but he stumbles over his own feet, and thankfully catches himself on a nearby pillar. He needs to get out. 

Everything is too much, too bright, too loud, too painful, and he cannot escape it. In his head still resonates the breathed I love you. 

Why would you say that to him? He…he’s nothing, he doesn’t… 

No, no. Aegon squeezes his eyes shut and reminds himself that it wasn’t you, it was her. The impostor, that…that poor mimicry of you.  

And he instructed her to say that. Why did he do that? 

He wanted to fill the emptiness inside him, to…to quieten it all for a few moments, he didn’t want…he didn’t want this. But the void within him grows, and it hungers, and it tears away at pieces of him, breath by breath. 

He stumbles out of the pleasure house on trembling legs, but doesn’t make it far before his labored breaths become too quick, too uneven. The air that enters his lungs hurriedly, stutteringly, over and over, still isn’t enough for him to breathe. 

Aegon staggers into a nearby alley, clawing desperately at the brick wall in an attempt to keep himself grounded, to keep himself from breaking, from falling. 

He still does, between labored breaths and memories that taste of ash, he crumbles under the weight of his disgust and his hatred at himself, at what he does, at what he failed to do; and falls onto the cold ground. 

Back against the wall of the empty alley, Aegon brings his knees to his chest, and hugs them close to himself, head bowed and eyes shut tight as he tries forgetting.  

I would love to hear your thoughts on this! My askbox is always open for questions or comments, and soon I think I'll be taking requests.

I should have waited to post this (I posted the first chapter of Pirtir today) but I couldn't help myself. This was so fun to write. I find these themes really interesting, and I want to delve into them again in the future. I have some stuff planned but they're still a bit further ahead in the posting schedule.

Thank you for reading!

[yoonia]

come undone | myg (m)

⟶ Summary | As a reward for Yoongi taking you to the trip of a lifetime and away from your busy lives, you decided to surprise him with a special treatment to help him relax and for the two of you to bond as a couple. What you never expected was for him to show you a different kind of pleasure through it in return.

⟶ Title | Come Undone ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader  ⟶ Genre | Established relationship!au, Mature, Smut ⟶ Word count | 14,625 words

⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; brief mention of alcohol consumption, swearing, contains explicit scenes, including mud bath (which involves…mud), mud play, Yoongi tries to prank OC by dunking her into the mud, nudity, dirty talk, soft dom/switch!Yoongi, sub/switch/brat!reader, Yoongi may have an odd fascination on her feet, fingering, clit play, breast play, mentions of bondage, restraint (mild), sensory play, usage of pet names, sir kink, praise kink, begging, edging, ass slapping/light spanking, public sex, shower sex, hand job, unprotected sex (kinda…OC/reader is on birth control), rough sex, orgasm control/denial, implied creampie, aftercare

⟶ Main Masterlist | Taglist | Feedback | Mailbox | Ko-fi | Commission 

⟶ Read on AO3

⤑ Story Notes | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs). This story was written as a commission for @pinkbtsarmy; I’m sorry that it took me so long to finish this one. Thank you so much for commissioning me and for your endless support. There might be some changes added from the original prompt/details that we previously talked about as this fic completely ran out of course the moment I started writing it, but I hope you can still enjoy this story. Forgive me for the rough editing. Have fun reading!  Additional Note: This story is purely fictional, with the usage of bangtan members’/idol’s names as fictional characters. Any similarities in the usage of names for other characters and circumstances are purely coincidental. Some aspects of this story may not be scientifically or biologically correct, so please don’t take things seriously (and don’t do this at home without supervision!)

This is what dreams are made of.

You keep reminding yourself about this as you try to relax. 

Because you have dreamt about this. It might have been a long period of time ago that you have almost forgotten what it was like to be daydreaming and imagining yourself to be in a place like this instead of actually living in it. And you have to keep convincing yourself that you deserve every ounce of the pleasure that is being offered to you, especially after the absolute hell that you had to go through just to be able to enjoy this moment.  

Looking out the window, you get a clear view of the thick, white clouds and the clear sky that is partly obscured by their presence. 

The sight should have been able to help you forget about everything that you are leaving behind, as this moment is something that you have been waiting for to happen for a long while.

The long, busy months that you had to endure before this long weekend had been a tormenting period of time that you just want to put everything at the back of your mind. The overflowing and frenzy-filled work, along with the family drama and crumbling relationships—both professional and personal ones—had tested every bit of patience that you now barely have left. 

And those dreadful months felt even longer when you could barely find any chance to spend enough quality time with your fiancé. Obviously, you have known this to be one of the risks that you had to take when you decided to have a relationship with Min Yoongi, one of the busiest and most sought out man in the country, but never before had it been this challenging. 

Matching up your schedule with Yoongi had become almost impossible for you to do, even with the help of his personal assistant and yours. While you had your own busy life to deal with, he too was swamped with his own busy schedule and had been busy flying off to various places across the globe with only a little time spared for him to spend with you.

If only the trip you are having this weekend had not been planned since a long time ago, long before your schedules collided and you were both thrown deeply into your bustling lives, maybe then you wouldn’t have been here today—sitting on what is probably the cosiest seat you have ever sat on your whole life, and flying on a private plane taking you halfway across the world, with your fiancé pampering you the best way he knows how. 

A private plane.

You feel giddy as reality sinks in and you are reminded of how inconceivable this whole thing is. To be able to experience such luxury while the world around you seems to be spiralling out of control sure makes you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. And everything was made possible thanks to your wonderful lover, the man who is always willing to give you everything to make your wishes come true. 

Yoongi always goes far and beyond to spoil you. Whether it is by giving you something as lavish as flying you off with this private plane to a luxurious spa resort on a tropical island somewhere across the ocean to give you both a break from the hectic city life, or pampering you by doing something as simple as what he is doing to you now. He has your legs resting on his lap while he is giving them his full attention. His deft fingertips are pressing against your pressure points, starting from the soles of your feet and up to your calves, easing the knots in your muscles that you gained through the frantic hours leading to this flight. 

And he always takes pleasure in doing things like this, gaining his own happiness by making you happy. You obviously don’t mind it at all, since you know that he always has his ways to show you how to make it up to him once you are in the privacy of your shared bedroom. 

Speaking of which—

You enjoy the view as you lean back in your seat. Not at the view of the sky that you can clearly see outside the window, but at the handsome and talented man that you have the privilege to call as your fiancé. You watch Yoongi as he continues with his task, concentrating deeply while he is taking care of you and while being blissfuly unaware of the attention that you are giving him. 

Whenever you are together with him, everything feels right again. The calm and serene moment that you share together has always become your source of healing, a feeling that seems entirely evident right this moment, after being deprived of his love and affection and his whole presence as a whole for months. 

But there is something else that keeps nagging you from the back of your mind. A gut feeling that keeps reminding you to be cautious the moment you are alone with Yoongi, causing your body to be vibrating with anticipation since the start of the flight. Not even the mental exhaustion that you have been feeling is enough to suppress it. 

It would be hard to ignore it, knowing that Yoongi is a man who is capable of turning every single moment you share together into a risqué affair. Even a simple kiss would eventually lead to something else once Yoongi puts his mind into it. 

From the moment the plane took off, you had half expected that he would start something just to take your mind off of all the troubles that had been haunting you. And it would have been easy for him to start something within the long flight and with this much private space available for him to make use of. Yet he blindsided you by remaining calm throughout the flight and choosing not to initiate anything. 

Except for the harmless offer he made to tend your strained feet and give you a comforting massage so you can enjoy yourself.

Sighing deeply, you briefly close your eyes to allow yourself to bask in the serene feeling and try not to think of anything else. You raise your glass and take a slow sip of your drink to find some peace of mind, only to grimace as the champagne fizzles in your mouth.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” Yoongi says, making you look at him questioningly, before you realise that he must have caught you wincing and may have thought that he had been the one who caused it. The work of his hands comes to a sudden halt, though his fingers remain hovering on your skin, refusing to completely lose contact with your body. 

Yoongi looks genuinely concerned that you can only smile and shake your head at him.

“No, it’s not that, really,” you answer him with a content sigh. As you try to move and twist your foot, you realise that his hands have done magic to your body while your mind has been preoccupied with unnecessary things. Your muscles have grown more lax, with all the tension that you felt fading under his touch. “You have magic hands, I swear. I feel better thanks to you, and you really didn’t have to, it wasn’t hurting me that bad.” 

Another note to remember, you wonder to yourself as you twist your ankle on Yoongi’s lap. Never wear a pair of high heels when you are in a hurry to catch a flight.  

Especially not when you had to deal with a bunch of catastrophe getting in the way as you were heading towards your departure. From the small troubles rising before the flight—involving the flying permit and your travel visa—to the emergency situation at Yoongi’s workplace that came at the last minute. Then you had to deal with the long traffic jam on your way to the airport, and nearly forgetting to retrieve your luggage from Yoongi’s car trunk right before departing. 

With all of that drama already draining you, running across the airport in your high heels and almost spraining your ankles had only added the mental strain that had been weighing down on you. Much to your luck—or lack there of—as the unpleasant memories are coming back to you again after spending hours of trying to forget about them, you can feel the strain growing inside you again, negating all of Yoongi’s effort to rid of them for good. 

With another shake of your head, you take another drink of your champagne, hoping that the taste and the frizz would be enough to wash it all away. 

Oblivious to your mulling, Yoongi merely smiles and proceeds to rub his thumbs across your ankle. Right at the source of your pain. 

“You’re right. I may not have to, but I wanted to. You know that I would never deny a chance to touch and take care of your pretty feet,” he says, causing your heart to make a funny leap with that smile of his, while a soft giggle threatens to escape with his admission about his odd fascination on your feet. 

He often jokes about it whenever the two of you are alone, and you cannot imagine what people would possibly think if they should ever hear him say something like this. But with how many times he brings it up as an inside joke, sometimes you just cannot help but wonder if Yoongi truly means it. That the reason why he would always take his time caring for your tired feet any chance he gets actually has something to do with his secret obsession with this part of your body.

“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you? I thought I saw you wince earlier,” Yoongi asks you again while he calmly continues pressing his thumbs up your calves, while you just have to bite back a smile.

You were right, after all, about him catching you wincing earlier. Though you shouldn’t be surprised about it. Because Yoongi has always been quite observant of your moods, even since the beginning of your relationship. It would only take one look at you or a light touch on your skin for Yoongi to easily tell what is going through your mind and what you are feeling. 

And he would often make use of this ability, not only on your day to day lives, but also in the bedroom, when he takes control and claims his rewards after all the things that he has done to spoil and tenderly take care of you during the day. 

Drawn back to your dark thoughts, you whole body grows warm. Your skin begins to tingle right where he is touching you. As your anticipation returns, the sensation you feel from his touch grows rapidly, spreading through your body and making you feel like you need to cool off so badly. 

“It’s nothing like that, really,” you answer Yoongi while resisting the urge to down your drink. “I’m still feeling lightheaded after all that running around and dealing with the drama we got before leaving, that’s all.” 

With a small smile, Yoongi glances at your nearly finished drink and gently lowers your legs. “Hmm, if the champagne isn’t working, then should we order something else to make you feel better? I already asked them in advance for some of your favourite meal and desserts and I also got them to prepare a bottle of your favourite wine,” he teases you with a proud wink.

Your heart leaps a beat. “You—you did that for me?” you asks him, astounded at how in tune he is with your moods and needs before you can even express them. 

Yoongi responds by taking your hand in his and whispers, “Anything to please my kitten.” His endearment draws a warm flush through your cheeks, and it elevates further when he continues to speak. “After all,” he murmurs softly as he brushes his lips against the back of your hand, “you’re probably going to need all the extra energy that you can get once we’ve arrived at the resort.” 

If anyone else would have heard him just now, they probably wouldn’t be able to catch the hidden implications in his words and would simply think of it as his way to sincerely express his concern over your wellbeing. But you quickly recognise the undertone that is hidden in his words, as you have been anticipating this side of his to finally come out. 

The unmistakable twinkle you see in his eyes speaks of his intention even louder. It brings you back to the nights filled with his wicked little games, and those sinful moments where he would take you to a blissful place filled with pleasure. 

A surging heat rises in your core as your mind travels back to those nights. Then it emerges through a soft gasp as Yoongi presses a kiss on your palm. “Will it be the right time to once again try and convince you to put aside our clothes while we are within the confinement of our private cabin?” 

While your face heats up to his indecent offer, you can barely resist the urge to smile and let out a baffled laugh. “I was wondering when you were going to bring it up again,” you say to him. Because this isn’t the first time that he is suggesting this. Ever since it was confirmed that he was renting a private cabin in the resort where you will be staying at, Yoongi had immediately suggested to do away with the clothes while staying in the cabin.

“The cabin is located at a secluded section on the island, so nobody would see us anyway. Imagine all the fun that we can have without having to tear out our clothes beforehand,” was what he has often said each time he brought up the idea. And he always managed to make your cheeks burn when you tried to picture spending the time lounging in the private cabin while in the nude. 

Now, however, as you are merely hours away from arriving at your destination, you start feeling more intrigued at the idea, leaving your body growing aroused instead of feeling apprehensive about it. Even when you cannot possibly imagine what may happen the moment you are alone with him and with every piece of clothing set aside.  

With Yoongi, anything is possible. 

And you always love his sweet yet saucy surprises. This time, however, you have nothing to worry about when you think of what he might have planned, because you have your own wild card to use on him. A little surprise that you have prepared to make this whole trip more pleasurable for both of you.

“You know what—?” You can barely contain yourself just as you are thinking about your own secret plan, yet you manage to feign a semblance of innocence when you share your thoughts with him. 

“Since I’ll be making us both discard our clothes for the treatments at the spa once we get there,” you begin, referring and hinting at the spa treatment that you have booked at the resort for this weekend trip after he had the rest of the trip arranged, “I guess I don’t see why we can’t do the same while we’re at the cabin. Let’s try it and see what happens.”

Oblivious to your indecent intention, Yoongi seems pleased to hear this. 

With a soft chuckle, Yoongi lifts your hand to his lips again and kisses your skin. “Wonderful,” he gently says. There is a familiar slow drag in his deep voice which tells you that he is already working out a plan to make this weekend unforgettable for the two of you, not knowing that you are doing just about the same thing at the same time. “I’m going to make sure that you won’t regret it.”

“Having any regrets yet?” 

In your eyes, Yoongi has an afterglow coming out of him. One that is undeniably deserving of him to have after the blissful release that you just shared. 

The gentle voice that comes from him when he is asking you this, along with the warm gaze he is giving you and the gentle touch of his fingers on your wrists, are all in complete contrast to how he acted merely moments ago. 

Looking closely at your wrists, right at the spot that he is now rubbing against, you can see some indistinct marks that are visible yet growing fainter now that your blood are flowing smoothly underneath your skin as they are being soothed by his touch. Each pulse of your blood feels warm, while in place of the straining exhaustion that you felt during the flight, a soft humming of pleasure is surging through your body. 

“Hmm—” you hum softly at the comforting touch that he is giving you and the waning pulses of pleasure that still remain within you, causing Yoongi to let out a light chuckle.

“Talk to me, kitten,” he murmurs as he brings one wrist to his lips and presses a kiss on it. “I need to know if I hurt you or if I’ve been too rough. I couldn’t help myself. After spending an entire day not touching you, the moment I got to touch your skin, I kept wanting more”—he presses another kiss and groans—”and more.” 

His words fade into another deep groan, as if the moment he closes his eyes, he is seeing himself making love to you all over again, doing all the sinful things which had led you to be in this position.

A mixture of pain and pleasure and a deep feeling of content rushes through you as you lean against his chest, bringing you back to the mind-blowing pleasure that he had just given you.  

Looking back to it now, you realise that you cannot truly blame Yoongi for letting go of any reservations once he was given the chance to. 

It was well in the afternoon when the private jet landed on the island. You were immediately welcomed by the warm sun and the fresh, comforting breeze that felt nothing like the stale and polluted air you had back in your home city. Yet you couldn’t really embrace it all when your mind was occupied with something else at that moment.

After Yoongi shared the idea of stripping down once he got you alone, you had expected that he would be taking you straight to the cabin to make it happen. That thought had led you to spend the entire car ride from the airport anticipating it, only for Yoongi to once again blindside you, deviating from the plan by instructing the driver to head towards the local marketplace on the other side of the island instead. 

You questioned his decision at first, before realising too late that it was all a part of his wicked game. That he wanted to make you forget for a moment about his illicit intention while making you wait until he would start touching you again. 

And his plan easily worked. 

The moment you arrived at the marketplace, you became completely entranced by your surroundings and any thought of Yoongi’s indecent plan flew out of your thoughts. With all the colourful trinkets, handmade accessories and art-pieces, and traditional-made fabrics in vibrant colours capturing your eyes, it was easy to get lost in the moment. Even Yoongi was enjoying himself as he gladly splurged through the market just to please you, spoiling you with gifts and souvenirs. 

His surprise continued with a short walk down the beach, where you enjoyed having your feet sinking into the wet sand and the waves hitting your ankles while you were playing chase with your fiancé. Then he led you to the fancy restaurant by the beach side where you had your early dinner. Accompanied by the view of the sunset and the gorgeous view of the ocean around you, and the man who was there to give you his full attention, you finally managed to find the sense of calm that you had been searching for.

Once he realised that you have completely forgotten about his perverse scheme, that was when Yoongi finally put everything into play. It wasn’t until the moment you walked past the threshold of your private cabin when you first realised just how far ahead Yoongi had planned the entire thing, once you failed to find your luggage right where they were supposed to be. 

“Remember what we talked about? Strip down and wait for me in the bedroom,” Yoongi gently instructed you when he noticed your reaction. “You’ll have them back when I say you can. For now, I want this thing off of you—” he said as he tugged at your summer dress, “and to see you on your knees on the bedroom floor.” 

Just like that, things heated up and escalated into a lot more. Right from the moment he found you kneeling on the bedroom floor, waiting for him without an inch of your skin covered before taking him deep in your throat. 

And things didn’t end there. As he took you to the living room where he continued pleasuring you in the most intimate of ways while playing his indecent games, taking you in all position on top of the myriad of furnitures that he could make use of. And then, right when you thought he was about to take a break late midnight, he once again took control of you, bending you over the kitchen counter after he found you making drinks while in the nude, accusing you of purposely teasing him with a sway of your hips while he took you from behind.

The night continued on to near dawn, as if time moved so slowly until the moment he took you back into the bedroom, where he tied your hands and ankles to the bedposts, keeping you restrained while he gave you an otherworldly pleasure that is still humming through your entire body which seems to be taking its sweet time to come down.

“No, I have no regrets,” you answer him with a voice that sounds unintentionally airy and hoarse. You can feel a moan threatening to slip out of you as you stretch out on the messy bed, giving both your body and mind a bit of reprieve as you lean against his bare chest. 

A content sigh slips out of your lips. This is how it is supposed to be, you wonder to yourself as you close your eyes and revel in his warmth, once you no longer feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. 

This is why being with him and submitting your pleasure to him feels so intoxicating. Because giving up control of your pleasure into his hands has always been the way to help you cope with all the hard times that you have to endure in real life. 

You shift in the bed to adjust yourself against him, and the warm flutters of your continuous orgasms are not the only thing that you can feel as you gently rock your hips. When the remnants of his release and yours begin to drip out of your worn-out core, a small amount of them left behind even after he did his work to clean you up after. 

Watching this, you can only count your blessings. Not only for all the blissful pleasure that you have been given through this trip, but also for remembering to take your depo shot on time before the trip. Because now you get to enjoy your trip and any intimate moments shared with him to your heart’s content without having to worry about anything. 

“Yeah, absolutely no regrets,” you hum softly while resting your head on his shoulder, drawing a chuckle out of him even without him knowing where your mind is wandering off to.

“How are you feeling now, kitten? Are you feeling any better now?”

Laughing softly, you hum against his chest before pulling away. “Much better, thanks to you,” you whisper to him, earning a soft peck on your lips which brings the gentle flutters in your chest back up. “It would be enough to help me sleep, that’s for sure. I’m just hoping that I won’t fall asleep right in the middle of the spa treatment with only a little time left to sleep.”

“Ah yes, the spa treatment,” he says with a smile, though the sarcastic tone in his voice is not too hard to notice. “Are you ever going to tell me more about it, or are you planning to keep your little secret to yourself until the last minute?”

Your eyes grow wide at his question. You cannot help but laugh and feeling embarrassed for being caught. “So you noticed, hmm?” you ask him, only for him to scoff at you. “I was planning to surprise you once we’re at the spa, but since you’ve been such an amazing lover through this trip so far—” 

You sit up and turn to face him as you finally spill your little secret. “Do you remember back when we watched that amusing wrestling match during one of our trips?” Yoongi merely raise his eyebrows in a silent question instead of answering you, so you continue, “you know, the one involving mud? The one that we later said it was hot while being messy at the same time and wondered how it must have felt like being covered in all that mud?” 

A deep, knowing look manifests through his gaze when he finally starts to comprehend where this is going. Biting back a smile, you continue by questioning him, “Guess what this spa resort is most famous for?” 

Yoongi sighs. “Let me guess, it’s not for their private cabins and the clear white sand on their open beach.” 

“Nope,” you tease him, shaking your head as he refers to the resort’s main selling point which made him choose this island to spend your weekend getaway, while you let him know the reason why you insisted to book a spa treatment while you are here once you found out more about this resort. “They’re famous for using scientifically processed volcanic mud for their healing therapy and spa treatments.” 

Yoongi blinks. “Why do I have a feeling that we’re not just talking about using the mud for facial masks?” 

“Well, I mean,” you shrug, “they do have that kind of treatment too, but we could’ve gotten them at the spa that I regularly go to back home.” You briefly come to a pause for dramatic purpose, making him wait before you reveal to him, “but that’s not what I’ve booked for us on this trip.” 

“Us?” he asks you with a grin. “Then what are we going to do with that mud, kitten?” 

You shift closer, unable to contain your excitement. “We’re going to bathe in it. We’ll soak our tired and battered bodies into the mud to get rid of all the toxins and to loosen our muscles up before we have to go back to work once the weekend is over.” 

Yoongi let out an incredulous laugh. “So—we’re going to have a mud bath?” 

You nod. 

“Together?”

You shrug. “I believe I did book us both a couples’ treatment package for the mud bath, so we’re in this together.” 

Hearing this, Yoongi looks a bit dubious at best. Yet despite his reluctance, you know that he isn’t going to say no to this. “It sounds…interesting,” he finally says after pondering about it for a while.

“It is interesting. I know it will be. It’ll be a new experience for both of us, and I know that it’s going to be fun. They said it’ll help us bond as a couple when we do it together,” you continue selling the idea out, loving how Yoongi seems to slowly grow curious about it more than he is hesitant about it. 

“Bond as a couple, hmm? Would it be more helpful compared to what we just did earlier?” he teases you while wiggling his eyebrows, causing your cheeks to heat up.

“Close enough, maybe,” you merely say to him, because both of you know that what you do in the bedroom together is already more than enough to strengthen the bond that you have created between the two of you. “But it’ll give us something to remember. And you promised to try new things with me whenever we have the chance to while we’re traveling together. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

“Alright, since we’re already here, and since you’ve been listening to me nicely since we got here,” he says while feigning a defeated sigh. “I suppose it’s my turn to take your word for it.” 

“That’s great. Oh, I can’t wait. This is going to be a lot of fun,” you express your relief as you kiss his lips, feeling hopeful about the upcoming new experience, while remaining oblivious to what Yoongi is secretly planning for you as a payback for your little surprise as he embraces you to sleep. 

“Welcome to Pure Bliss Spa and Resort.” 

You have been feeling both excited and anxious the entire morning that you were almost shaking when you walked into the main establishment of the spa resort. The building itself is located not too far from where your rented cabin is. Just a bit deeper into the island and right on top of the hillside overlooking the spread of wide ocean. 

There was still a bit of a drive to get here, which allowed you to enjoy the sights around you even more—such as the private beach attached to the spa establishment which you haven’t had time to visit yet. 

From outside, the building looks quite glamorous as a private retreat. With a facade built out of natural stone blocks and strong column structures holding up its massive canopy, the establishment appears to you as if it is blending nicely into the hills surrounding it.

A different kind of vibe welcomed you as you entered the building, when you were met with one of the cosiest space that you have ever been to. Through the warm-coloured wood materials on the floors and furnitures, and the ivory and beige colours covering the floor, loveseats, and the walls around you, this place gives you a homy feeling that fills your chest with a sense of comfort even before you get to experience the healing treatments that they are offering you. 

It makes you feel as if you are walking into a warm embrace. Giving you some reassurance that it was the right idea to come to this place for a quick healing in this weekend getaway. 

You take a quick glance at Yoongi before responding to the receptionist welcoming you at the front desk. You have half expected to see him somewhat resigned to what you were dragging him here for, yet the clear and warm gaze he is giving you in return is telling you differently. Perhaps your excitement over the upcoming spa treatment is already growing on him, and it is making you feel even more thrilled about this retreat more than ever. 

“Hello,” you greet the receptionist with a smile, “we’ve already booked us the couples’ special package treatment for today. I believe it was made under my name.”

“Of course, may I have your reservation details?” With a nod, you give her everything that she needs to confirm the reservations that you made months ago. It takes less than five minutes for her to find all the details needed in her computer. “It is stated here that you have booked our couples package with the volcanic mud bath therapy and the couples full body rock massage. Is that correct?”

Again, you nod while trying your best to contain your eagerness. Relief washes over you as the receptionist clears everything out for you and says, “Your appointment has been confirmed, and the preparation for your private sessions is already set to go. Until then, you can wait in our guest lounge where you can enjoy our welcome drinks and snacks. Here are the keys to your lockers where you can place your personal belongings and retrieve the necessities that you will need for your therapy sessions. One of our staff will come to assist you and help you get ready for your mud bath session once everything is set up and ready for you.” 

After expressing your gratitude to the receptionist, you turn to Yoongi again to gauge his reaction. He seems pretty calm for someone who was caught off guard by your surprise plan. Though he didn’t seem too thrilled at the idea of soaking in a tub full of mud when you first brought it up, but there is not a sign of displeasure coming out of him while he is listening attentively to the receptionist as she continues to explain more about the mud bath therapy, before finally sending you off to the guest lounge where you can wait for your sessions to start.

A female attendant comes to fetch you and Yoongi at the lounge only a short while later. After showing you the locker rooms—where you are able to secure your personal belongings and change into the bath robe that they provided for you—she takes you through the establishment while guiding you through the next steps before your treatment. 

Through the short tour that she is giving you, you get to see the area where the massage rooms are located, and even get to take a quick peek at one of the vacant rooms which may be available for you to use later after the bath. You also get to see various other therapy rooms along the way, enticing you to one day try and experience them if you ever have the chance to.

Once you enter the baths section, you walk past the jacuzzi and sauna, and you are quite amused to see an indoor swimming pool that they provide for their water therapy sessions. Soon enough, you are heading towards the area where the rooms for the mud baths. Your anticipation grows when the attendant turns to you and asks, “Are we ready to head straight to the main course of your treatment?”

“Yes, absolutely,” you quickly answer, as you can no longer contain your eagerness. You slip your arm around Yoongi’s, and his lips curl up to a small smile as he looks you. 

The attendant leads the two of you through the hallway that feels slightly warmer and the air much denser compared to the previous areas. It continues until the end of the hallway which parts into two separate lanes, with singular doors occupying each of them. 

“We have provided separate rooms for our mud bath treatment to give more privacy,” the attendant explains as she shows you through the private section for the bath. “As you can see here, we have two types of rooms which our guests can choose—one with the separate, singular tubs, and the other with the joint tub that couples are usually more interested to try on. According to the booking details, I believe the couples package is the one you booked for today’s treatment, is that correct?” 

“Oh, yes,” you answer her with a smile. “It would be the first time for both of us to experience this, and I think my fiancé is a bit nervous about it,” you claim with a flicker of a glance at Yoongi who is looking at you with raised eyebrows, “so we thought that choosing the couples package would help us feel more comfortable as we’re trying it together.” 

“That’s a brilliant choice,” the attendant says, nodding her head. “Couples who came to us without prior experience to this kind of treatment have always chosen to use the joint tub to make it less awkward for them. We also believe that it would give you a wonderful chance to have a special bonding time with your partner.” She winks at you as she says this. “Let me show you where you are going to have your bath.” 

With your hand holding tightly on Yoongi’s cold one, you both follow the attendant as she walks into one of the rooms. It is a medium sized room with a stone tub right in the center of it which has been filled with an overflowing amount of smooth, creamy, grey mud. The tub is probably not that much bigger compared to a queen-sized bed, but it does seem to fit two person to lie inside it and have a long dip without feeling crowded. 

Just like the hallway outside, the room feels warm, but a bit more comfortable than the stuffy hall in which you walked through to get here. There is a subtle scent of lavender wafting in the air around you, which is probably what makes it feel less stuffy and more cozy as you step into the room. 

On either side of the tub, you see two long console tables made of dark-coloured hardwood. Each one of them holds an array of small candles, all having been lighted up with flames flickering against the flowing breeze, and ceramic plates holding up burning incenses that may have been the source of the delightful scent of lavender that you are breathing in. The lighting in the room itself is kept dimly-lit, yet the candles help illuminate the room without over saturating the interiors, making it seem calming and relaxing instead of giving you a gloomy sense of space. 

“This is one of our couples-only mud rooms which had been reserved specially for your treatment,” the attendant says, stepping aside so you can have a good look at the entire room as you walk deeper into the center of the room with your hands entwined to Yoongi’s. 

You follow your fiancé’s gaze as he silently observes the filled tub, and the attendant continues to explain, as if noticing where Yoongi’s attention is being drawn towards. “As you can see, we have prepared for you our special mud with the right temperature that would be comfortable for your first try. We only use the highest quality volcanic mud for our baths, taken from the local natural resource and processed exclusively for our bath therapy. As you may have read in our website, this mud acts as a detoxifier, with muscle relaxation and skin cleansing agent that will be activated under the perfect temperature. Rest assure, that we always replace the mud with fresh ones after each use and we have prepared freshly processed mud for your treatment today.” 

Hearing this seems to ease Yoongi’s mind a little more as he no longer seems as tense as he was before. The attendant smiles, obviously noticing this change in Yoongi’s mood and the astonished look on your face. 

“The recommended time for the bath is usually between twenty to thirty minutes, but you are free to end the bath sooner if you are feeling too uncomfortable under the heat. And you need to remember that you’ll have to step out of the bath before the heat starts to cool down, because then all the healing agents will no longer be active and the mud will harden on your skin. The lights above the door will turn on once the thirty minutes count is up and there will also be the sound of the bell to notify you in case you fall asleep or loose track of time—which often happens when a guest feels too comfortable under the warm mud,” she continues, pointing at the row of small lamps above the door, making sure that you would be able to notice them once they are lighted up. 

“Once you step out of the bath, you can proceed to the adjacent shower room where you can wash off the remaining mud on your skin. From there, you can press the bell or contact any staff through the intercom and someone will come to assist you and show you where to go for your next treatment. Do you have any further question?”

You turn to Yoongi, who still seems a bit doubtful, trying to see if he has anything to inquire from the attendant to answer some of the curiosity that you can still clearly see on his face. Yet he keeps his silence, so you figure that there is nothing more for either of you to say. “I think we’re good for now. All we have to do next is dip straight in, right?” 

“That’s right,” the attendant nods. “Just soak in the mud like you would in a hot tub, and let the mud do all the magic. If you have no further question, then I’ll take my leave and let you enjoy the bath. There are fresh towels and bath robes that you can put on either after the mud bath or once you’ve stepped out of the shower. A staff will come if you ever need any help. Just press the button on the intercom and we’ll keep in touch with you for further assistance.”

Once she is done showing you everything that you may need during your bath, you thank the attendant for her service and guidance, and she gracefully exits the room to give you all the privacy that you need. Just as the silence settles in between you, the excitement to start the bath grows on you while Yoongi appears to be completely fixated on the tub full of mud. 

“Well, this is—” he begins to say, and you chime in to finish his words,

“Exciting?” you tease him, earning a light scoff from him in response.

“Nerve-racking would probably be a more fitting way to describe it,” he says with a grin, though it is quite obvious that he has grown more intrigued by the sight of the bubbling mud before you now that he is seeing it for himself. 

With a soft giggle, you cling to his arm and tease him a little to help him ease up a bit more. “Oh, come on. This looks fun. You said you wanted to experience this with me.” 

Sighing, Yoongi looks over to the tub again and says, “I have to admit, I was expecting to see a pile of nasty mud when I first heard about this. Anything that would be—unhealthy.”

You tilt your head at him. “And now that you’re seeing it?” 

Yoongi takes one last look at the tub, squinting his eyes as he catches the sight of the small bubbles appearing on the surface and says, “It still looks nasty.” 

This time, you cannot help but laugh. “You heard what our guide said earlier, didn’t you? She said that it’s supposed to be good for your skin and body.” 

Yoongi gives you another scoff, though the dubious look he has been giving you slowly shifts into mischief when he sarcastically says, “That’s just her way of selling it to make sure that you’ll come back for more.” 

You can only shake your head at his comment and smile. “Well, you know that I’m already sold. We wouldn’t be here today in the first place if I hadn’t been,” you say to him, referring to when you first learned about the mud bath treatment while you were searching through the internet to know more about the resort. 

“Fine, let’s see if all that hype about this ‘healing factors’ from the mud is more than false advertisement,” he says as he presses a kiss on the tip of your nose. 

Yoongi walks over to the stone tub right after. Staring at the grey mess in the tub, he gets a bit closer so he can observe it further. He leans forward, his face hovering above the surface to feel the heat on his skin. 

The surface of the mud looks to be steaming, confirming everything that the attendant had told you about how they were keeping it warm while preparing this mud bath for you. You feel wary about the heat at first, before reminding yourself that the healing factors from the mud will only be activated under the perfect temperature. 

Curious, you walk closer to the other side of the tub and dip your finger into the mud. It does feel warm, almost similar to the temperature that you would normally prefer for your hot bath to soothe your tensed muscles. The mud feels just a bit slimier than what you had expected it to be as you pull out your stained finger and mesh it with your thumb.

Yoongi keeps his eyes on you the entire time you are feeling up the texture. “That looks,” he murmurs while frowning at the sight of it, “a bit gross.” 

“Oh, come on. Just get in. It’ll be fine, I promise,” you say to him as you straighten back up. 

Without waiting for him to respond, you start to peel the robe off of your body, making quite a show on it as you strip down right in front of his eyes. Yoongi never looks away from you, and you can clearly see his sharp gaze darkening at the sight of your bare skin. Tossing the robe away, you carefully begin to step into the tub, gasping slightly at the first touch as you slowly dip your toe into the mud. “Oh, my—” 

“Be careful,” Yoongi says as he rushes to your side. Gently placing one hand on your bare waist while holding out the other so you can have something to hold on to, Yoongi helps you to get into the tub and stays by your side as you adjust yourself in it. He continues watching you closely until you are settled nicely on the bottom of the tub, submerging your whole body into the mud right up to your neck.

“How does it feel?” he curiously asks you as you close your eyes briefly to enjoy the new sensation that is now engulfing you. 

You open your mouth to answer him, only for your voice to come out in a soft hum. 

After you are settled down in it, you find that the texture of the mud is quite—interesting. It is slick and heavy, and its warmth seems to be pressing against your skin, giving you soft massages which slowly help ease all the tension in your body. 

“It feels warm and relaxing. I can feel every tension in my muscles melting away,” you finally answer Yoongi with a hum as you lean back, resting your back against the back of the tub and finding comfort instead of feeling like you are being pressed down by the weight of the mud.

“You’re starting to sound exactly like the staff earlier,” Yoongi claims with a grumble, though you cannot miss the undertone laughter in his voice, as if he is amused to watch you enjoying yourself and finding some delight in being submerged into something that seems so—dirty. 

The expression that he is making makes you laugh, but you cool yourself down and straighten your back as you coax him to join you. “Come on, you have to come in and join me to know what it’s really like.” 

Yoongi frowns. “It doesn’t feel gross at all?” His lips turn down as he asks you this, but you barely notice it when you have been completely drawn to the mud, feeling amazed by how it feels on your skin. 

“No, it feels more like—” you answer as you slide your hands back and forth, feeling the weight of the substance against your fingers and your whole body as you shift deeper to relax. “Being weighed under a warm blanket. It’s not gross, I promise. A bit weird and new, but nothing that would make you feel icky.” 

Yoongi shakes his head and chuckles when he notices how entranced you seem to be. “Fine, if you say so,” he calmly says, despite still looking a bit unsure about all of this. 

Yet he still walks back to his side of the tub and carefully takes his robe off, getting ready to dive in. You keep your eyes on him the entire time, shamelessly watching him as he strips himself down until he is completely bare. He looks up just as you are perusing his body with your gaze, drawing a grin to his face. 

“You seem to enjoy what you’re seeing right now,” he teases. A bit more of his apprehensiveness fading now that he has his focus on you. Seeing that you are able to distract him from his discomfort, you continue eyeing him, humming as you openly appreciate what you are seeing. 

“I do, actually,” you answer him with a hum, which makes him shake his head as he completely discards his robe. “Maybe I’m just picturing you being covered in this beautiful mud.” 

Yoongi chuckles, and you are pleasantly surprised to see that your comment has somehow eased him up further. His smile only falters when he finally moves, carefully stepping into the tub with his left foot and slightly wincing when his skin makes contact with the slick mud. Once he steps his other foot in, he is no longer wincing at it, though he still appears quite uneasy about getting in. Yet he still lowers himself into the mud, allowing it to cover his entire body as he settles down right beside you. 

You wait until he relaxes with a sigh before commenting, “There you go. How is it?” 

His eyebrows are furrowed for a brief moment. “Tolerable, I suppose,” he says with a hum. “You were right about it being like a weighed blanket. This stuff is heavy on the body, and a bit—thick.” 

The way he says the latter—as the word seems to be filled with disapproval, while at the same time, sounds as if he is amused—makes you laugh. “Yes, it actually does,” you admit as you continue moving your hands around, staying close to the surface as you try to gauge the thickness and the texture against your skin. 

Lifting your hands up requires quite an effort. The way your fingers emerge from the surface while being covered by the mud seems like such an amusing sight. Curious, you raise your hand up and smear a thin layer of mud on your cheek. Unsurprisingly, it feels soothing on your skin, so you add a bit more onto the other side to make yourself a facial mask out of the mud. Your action draws Yoongi’s curiosity as he watches you playing around with the substance. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested that an idea sparks in your head.

“Putting on a face mask,” you tell him as you dip your hand back into the mud, gathering some of them on your fingers while offering him, “want to try it?” 

“Why would you—hey!” he protests as you smear a small amount of mud on his cheek. He tries to wipe it off, only to add some more mud on his face as he brushes his mud-covered fingers on his skin. Confused and bewildered, he looks down on his hands before rubbing his face again, making more mess on his face when instead of wiping off the mud, he only adds more to it. “What the—” he laughs incredulously. 

“It’s fine. I’m telling you, it’s a face mask. Other spas often use mud for their facial mask treatments, so I figured, since we have a whole bath tub of it, why not put some on so we can have extra facial therapy?” you try to reason with Yoongi while holding back from laughing when you see the dubious look on his face returning tenfold.

“Hmm, is that so?” he teases you back, making you wonder what he is up to when he dips his hand into the mud and subtly shifts closer. The sly smirk you see growing on his face certainly has his bad intention written all over it. “Then, since we have all of this mud to use, why don’t we make use of the rest while we have the chance?”

Before you can figure out what he means by it, Yoongi slips his arm around your waist and pulls you towards him, all while he carefully begins dipping your entire body backwards into the mud. 

“No!,” you scream out while laughing nonstop, causing all effort to stop him seem fruitless. Yet Yoongi doesn’t stop, though he isn’t going as far as actually submerging you completely into the mud. The moment you feel the mud touching your hair and coating the back of your neck, and once your breath is heavy from the weight of the mud pressing down your chest and the thrill of being submerged completely in it, he pulls you back up and helps you sit back against the edge of the tub. 

“Did I scare you, kitten?” he whispers against your earlobe, causing your entire body to shiver. Your breath is still ragged and your heart is still beating rapidly after his evil prank. It takes a moment for you to catch your breath, and once you are calmed, you splash a handful of mud at him to retaliate. 

“You’re so bad,” you playfully scold him as he draws back to avoid your attacks while laughing. 

“Sorry, kitten. I couldn’t help myself,” he says to you, kissing the tip of your nose and flicking at it, smearing more mud to your face. “You’re just so irresistible. And you did say that you wanted to try everything.” 

“Fine.” You roll your eyes and try to wipe off the mud from your nose and some that had gotten around your ears and your temple. “Now sit back and behave. We’re supposed to be enjoying the bath and have some healing, not play around like this and make a mess,” you playfully scold him, pointing at the mess on the floor around the tub which he created to distract both him and yourself from the odd trembling that your body is experiencing after his playful stunt.

 As if the thought of being under the mud, being made to feel helpless and finding trouble to breathe actually excites you in ways that you cannot understand. 

“Okay. Whatever you say, kitten,” Yoongi complies easily, something that should be making you wary. But as he settles back into position with his back resting against the side of the tub and his body mostly submerged in the mud, you decide that it would be best to join him and try to relax, allowing the mud to take effect on your body. 

You shift back in place, trying to regain the comfortable position that you had earlier as you settle down right beside Yoongi. Moments later, you begin to feel the effect of the mud on your body which is quite unexpected. You try to move your hands under the mud as you shift back, and immediately notice that not only do you feel like you are being weighed down by the thickness of the mud, you also feel as if you are being restrained by it. 

“Huh, interesting.” 

Yoongi has been sloshing around underneath the surface of the mud, moving his hands around to test out the thickness of the mud to feed his own curiosity instead of embracing it. But your comment makes him stop and turn to look at you.

“What is it?” 

You give him no answer and feel around a bit more. “Hmm, it feels a bit hard to move once my hands are lowered deeper into the mud. As if—” you stop to try again, trying to show him what you are trying to say, only to find that it is becoming impossible to move your hand further up, even when the surface of the mud starts to ripple around you. “It feels like it is holding my hands down so I can’t really move them as easily as before.”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “Are you saying that it makes you feel like you’re being tied down? Is that it?” 

“Yeah, that seems to be the case. Or maybe because what you did earlier loosened my muscles so much that my whole body feels lax now under the mud,” you answer him almost distractedly, as you are paying close attention to the sensations that you are beginning to feel all over your body. 

With your lack of experience of being in a mud bath before, you are feeling hypersensitive to every single sensation that the mud is giving you. The warmth that you feel massaging your nerves and the weight that is pressing down on your body are beginning to feel real good. 

And not just in a relaxing kind of way. 

While Yoongi continues moving his hands and legs around, allowing you to feel all the more restrained when you are unable to do the same with your own hands that had sunk too deep under the mud, you become more sensitive to how the mud is moving between your legs as you stretch them forward and slowly part them open. 

All of a sudden, your mind begins drifting towards all the more inappropriate things that you should ever be thinking about while being in a public bath. Yet with all the sensations that you are now feeling coming to you at once, it is becoming quite impossible for you to ignore it. A gasp nearly escapes you when you try to shift, when adjusting your position in the tub only leads to the mud touching your sensitive spots that are hidden underneath.

“Hmm…you know what? This does feel pretty relaxing, more than I expected it would be,” Yoongi suddenly says, though his voice seems to fade in and out when you are starting to lose yourself in a new kind of need that suddenly comes over you when the mud is starting to press down the area between your parted legs. 

“Is it now?” you answer him, though your voice sounds too airy, with your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths when you start feeling like there are invisible fingers pressing against your core. When in reality, there is nothing there but the heat of the soft, silky mud pressing down on you.

Surely enough, Yoongi is quick to sense this change of mood of yours. You can tell—even through your haze—when Yoongi turns his head to look closer at you and his gaze is locked on yours, searching, feeling amused and somewhat intrigued to see how your body seems to be reacting to the mud. 

“Are you okay there, kitten?” 

“Mm-hm, I’m just—” you sigh deeply with your eyes fluttering close, unable to hold yourself together when the mud moves, brushing against your bare pussy. It takes you another inhale of breath before you can continue to answer him, “I’m okay, really. I’m just enjoying all of this.” 

“Is that so?” Yoongi questions you. With your focus on the tingling sensation rising in your body and your eyes barely open to pay attention on your surroundings, you fail to notice it when Yoongi eases his way closer to your side. Until the moment you feel the mud shifts as he brings his whole body weight closer so you can feel his presence, with the new proximity and the subtle touch of his hand on your leg when he is searching for you causing the tingles on your skin to grow more intense. 

Just as the anticipation keeps building up, Yoongi finally makes a bold move and slips his hand between your legs.

He starts off by doing it lightly. A gentle tease at the are between your legs with his hand moving right under the mud. He barely makes contact to your skin, yet with the slight slosh of mud as he moves his hand closer, as his fingers are slowly reaching to the source of your heat, it feels like there is an invisible touch brushing against your center. The sensation sends a shudder through your whole body, bringing up a new kind of heat building from within your body.

Once he moves, not only the mud beneath but even the air seems to stir around you. And when his fingers finally find you, a light touch brushing against your folds with a thick slickness that is present between his touch and your hot skin, a spark lights up, your body jolts as a rush of pleasure strikes you so intensely. Though the weight of the mud keeps you still, restraining you under and keeping you from thrashing around. 

The pleasure that rushes through you comes in small spasms that begin from the depth of your core, slowly rising as he gives a gentle tease at your clit. The sensation coming from the warm, soft clay being rubbed against your clit and his fingers flickering at your entrance feel absolutely maddening, and you are slowly losing control of yourself. 

As the pleasure builds up, rising rapidly through his gentle touch, Yoongi halts every movement and starts moving his hand away. 

“Yoongii—” you whine at the loss of his touch, even though you can still feel the shadow of his fingers that remains in the sloshing mud pressing at your hot core, drawing a series of pulsing heat coming from within you.

“Patience,” he whispers, while he touches your inner thigh, brushing lightly in a teasing way which makes you want to push your hips up, fighting against the restraining mud to catch his hand. “How badly do you want this, kitten?” 

“I—” your words fade to a gasp when you feel the tips of his fingers returning, hovering close to your center. You cannot see it, but the disrupted mud helps give it away as his fingers are dancing close to your folds, keeping away just an inch to tease you. 

“Talk to me, kitten,” he mutters .While he is keeping his voice gentle, you can still sense the firm command that he is giving you, drawing the more submissive part of you to take hold. 

“I want it. So badly. Please, Sir, allow me—” A gasp stops you, drawn by the light touch of his finger on your skin when his fingers find your inner thigh. ”Allow me to cum. Please, I beg you.” 

“Such a polite kitten,” he praises, making your chest swell with pride which only heightens your sensitivity to his touch. “How could I not reward you when you beg me so sweetly?” 

“Yes, Sir. I—” 

Whatever it is that you wish to say to him evaporates when his fingers return to you, coming right back to where you want him to be the most. Almost immediately, you feel like you are about to erupt. The minor tremors which had been building before are now increasing rapidly, and there is no stopping it from escalating further when Yoongi abandons his gentle touches and begins doing it more firmly. 

Noticing how you are responding to him now, Yoongi decides to take more risk. Using the fingers that have been pressing against your pulsing entrance, he slowly pushes, sticking his finger inside you. He stops once he gets a knuckle in, and already your body shudders, while your walls pulse around his digit. The thought of any possible way there would be mud being pushed into you is brushed aside when your mind is muddled by the mixed sensations given to you from multiple things at once.

Yoongi draws back slightly and pulls his finger back out, using only his thumb to rub circles on your clit and distract you from what he is about to do next. Yet your muscles react before your mind can even process the feeling of his finger returning into your pussy, slowly sliding in between your tight walls, with your hips rising to chase him, denying his escape.

“Yoongi,” you gasp out his name, and he responds only by bringing his finger back to your hot entrance, not just one this time, but two of them, spreading your pussy walls as he slides them inside you deeper. “Oh! Oh, God—!” 

There is a dark flame in Yoongi’s eyes as he gives you his full attention. He can easily tell that you are getting closer to the edge. He can even feel it through the spasms coming from your delicate walls that are clenching around his digits as he continues sliding them in and out of you. At the same time, he continues rubbing your clit with his thumb in a rapidly increasing pace, adding a myriad of sensations flowing onto you at once. 

As your body begins to react to the heightened pleasure, the mud on the surface of the bath began to move around you, showing the world what is happening beneath the mud. Sliding closer, Yoongi slips his other arm around your back, holding your body up to him and keeping you from thrashing more wildly. His hand reaches your breast, and he begins to palm the soft mound, using the slick mud to easily rub and knead until you are arching against him in response. 

It only takes a few more passing seconds, a few more thrusts and rubs, with his fingers finding your hardened nipple to give it a pinch, and you are taken over by the wave of your orgasm, pushing you over the edge that you come so hard that the mud around you ripples wildly, sloshing at the surface despite keeping you locked with nowhere to go. There is no escape, as you are kept restrained under the weight of the mud and within Yoongi’s tight embrace as you are plunged straight into your climax.

Your cries of pleasure are threatening to join all the frenzy happening at the height of your orgasm, but Yoongi is quick to take action. He leans in to capture your lips and drown the sound of your moans before anyone passing by the hallway outside can hear you.

Yoongi keeps his arms around you as your body is taking its sweet time to recover, holding you up against him as he slowly pulls his hand away from your heat. He draws back from the kiss once he feels the shudders in your body subsiding, and your body slumps against him. Your muscles instantly grow lax in the aftermath of your climax and under the warm comfort of the healing mud.  

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling high from the ‘healing factors’, kitten?” Yoongi teases you as he slowly releases you from his hold, letting you slip back into your previous position in the bath tub. 

You open your tired eyes with a light chuckle. “Oh, I’m feeling everything. Thank you very much for your kind assistance.” 

Yoongi laughs at your comment. He seems pleased with himself—as he probably should—when he leans into you again, pressing his lips on your temple. It is then when you finally notice the mess that you have left behind on his body—the smeared mud covering nearly half his face that is beginning to dry out, and some that have gotten on his hair. You have no doubt that you are in a bigger mess after everything that he had done, yet you can care less about it, when the only thing that you can feel aside from the drying mud on your face, hair, and neck, is the way your body is humming softly with pleasure. And you can feel it coming from both your climax and quite likely the healing factor that the mud has given you.

Just as things begin to calm down, the lights above the door start flickering, letting you know that the thirty minutes time limit is up. 

“Perfect timing,” Yoongi says as he observes the lights and the timer beneath it. “Should we move to the shower to clean ourselves? We need to make sure that we didn’t have any mud getting into your private parts now, do we?” 

You wince at the thought of the mud reaching into the most delicate part of your body and immediately agree. “Seems like the mud is cooling down too, so we better get out of here.” 

While you are having trouble pushing yourself up with your legs feeling like rubber and your hands still heavy in the cooling mud, Yoongi manages to slip out of the tub with little ease. 

“Hang on, I’ll come and get you,” he says as he carefully reaches for the towels. 

After cleaning his hands and legs enough to move easier and then slipping into a robe to cover himself, Yoongi walks over to assist you, helping you escape the mud’s possessive grasp and holding you up on your swaying feet. 

Your chest swells when you see him coming down on his knees before you. With gentle hands, he helps clean your feet just so you wouldn’t slip on the floor, before helping you with your robe. 

You continue to cling onto his arm as you both make your way to the adjacent shower room, following the attendant’s guidance to find it. Stopping right in front of the alluring shower space, Yoongi slips his arm around your waist and sneakily starts undoing your robe.

“Should I help clean you up?” he offers, drawing a soft hum out of you when the thought of him pampering you under the shower seems enticing. 

“You want to give me a bath?” you ask him with a soft, tired laugh. 

“You know I’d do anything for you, which includes making sure that you are properly cleaned,” he teases you as he slowly strips you out of your robe. 

The remaining mud on your skin feels dry, and you want nothing more than to wash them all off to feel refreshed again. And then there are the underlying worries of having mud in places where it isn’t supposed to be. As if he knows what you are thinking, Yoongi coaxes you further by saying, “I was the one who made a mess of you earlier, shouldn’t I be responsible to clean everything away?” 

“I suppose you’re right,” you murmur softly as you turn around, pulling his robe so you can strip him out of it. “You do need to take responsibility for all of this mess.” With a single pull, you manage to undo the robe and push it off of his shoulders. Once the stained robe falls to the floor, you take his hands and begin pulling him with you into the shower. 

Any plans that you had on taking the lead simply fades when Yoongi grabs you around the waist and kisses you deeply. He keeps you distracted while he turns the shower on, surprising you as the water falls around you. 

You gasp into the kiss as the water hits your skin. Your entire body is still sensitive after the previous treatment that the water feels like light massages pressing on your skin. With your eyes closed, you allow your head to fall back and embrace the blissful pleasure coming from the running water. It feels calming and refreshing at the same time, until Yoongi’s hands come to your skin with their gentle touch which brings back the heat in your body. 

“Relax, kitten,” Yoongi whispers to you when he feels you flinching at his touch, though you make no move to avoid him. He smiles to you when you open your eyes and says, “Let me take care of you.” 

His soothing words help you feel more relaxed to his touch, even if your skin is still so sensitive, and there is a faint humming sensation coming from deep inside your core which becomes even more evident the more he keeps touching you. 

“If you insist,” you say to him with a hum. Then you reach up, brushing your fingers through the messy strands of his hair that are stained with drying mud. “But only if you let me do the same and help you clean up too.” 

Yoongi chuckles softly. “I’m not going to stop you,” he says, as he begins rubbing the mud stains off of your face. “You know that I always enjoy it when you are touching me.”

With that, you quickly do the same to him, starting from his face, as you rub his skin clean from the mud, before moving to wash his hair using the shampoo that has been provided for you to use. 

Things become intense and quickly start heating up as you take turns taking care of each other under the running water. You take pleasure in the way he is tenderly washing your hair just as much as you enjoy doing the same to him. He makes your heart stutter as he traces your face with his lips right after his fingers are done washing away the remaining mud on your face and down to your neck, while you draw soft sighs from him when you do the same, as you clean his face, his jawline, and his neck from all the mud. 

Your breath quickens as his hands move lower to find your breasts. He takes his sweet time on your soft mounds, as he lathers a handful of the herbal-scented liquid soap on your flesh and starts rubbing, massaging them with his palms, and then moving to rub your hardened nipples clean until no more mud is left behind. In the wake of his touch, he leaves behind a trail of heat, surging all the way down your body from where he is touching you so intensely. 

The water raining down on you from the shower is beginning to grow colder while you are tending one another and washing away what still remains from the mud bath, yet his steady hands are helping you feel warm as he runs them down on your skin, going lower and lower, moving past your hips and not stopping until he gets low enough to reach your thighs. 

“Yoongi—” you cry softly as he runs his fingers along the inner side of your thighs. You can only let him as he grips at your thigh and slowly starts lifting one of your legs up, opening yourself to him. 

“It’s okay, kitten. I just want to make sure that we have your body thoroughly cleaned,” he murmurs against your lips, before giving you a soft kiss. “I don’t want to miss anything when we’re done here.”

By the time he slips his other hand between your parted legs, you are too delirious to give him a proper response. All that you can give him is a soft sigh as his fingers find your folds. The sounds you are making grow deeper, shifting into a series of gasps and moans as he parts your nether lips and begins rubbing his fingers gently around the sensitive parts of your body. 

Starting from your swollen clit, he moves his fingers in circles as he wipes away the slimy mud while coaxing a different kind of moisture to rise in its absence. Then he moves to your slit, rubbing back and forth until he no longer finds any of the slick substance left behind, and he doesn’t stop even when he feels your slick arousal coating all over his digits. 

Once he is pleased with the result, Yoongi presses down the tips of his fingers right at your hot entrance. He barely pushes his way in when your pussy reacts with a throb, every pulse that has waned down begins to come back alive under his touch. 

You start to sway, barely able to hold your weight with only one leg holding you up as he has a tight grip on the other to keep it lifted. The pleasure that keeps rising is beginning to make your legs quiver beneath you and your mind starts spinning, so you reach up and grab onto his bare shoulders, keeping a tight hold there for leverage. 

“Let’s make sure that I didn’t get any of that mess deep inside here as well,” he says, right before he pushes his fingers into your pussy, drawing a low, breathless moan through you when his invading digits are spreading your pulsing walls apart. A wave of pleasure rocks your entire body and you shudder, already coming so close to your climax even before he begins moving his fingers further.

“Is everything alright, kitten?” Yoongi teases you with a playful nip at the side of your neck. 

“Yoongi, I—” you gasp softly when his finger start getting deeper. “Oh, fuck!” you gasp before teasing him, “I don’t think that this is what they meant about using this therapy to help us bond.”

Yoongi chuckles softly. “What are you talking about, kitten? I’m just trying to be thorough.”

“Hmmm—of course, you are,” you sarcastically scoff at him. Yet your voice sounds feeble, and your moans are betraying you by showing how much you need him to go on.

“I can tell that you are properly cleaned down here,” he murmurs against your earlobe. “But why are you getting wet, kitten? I know that this isn’t coming from the bath earlier, nor is it coming from the shower.” 

You let out a groan. “You know that it’s your fault.” 

“Is it now?” he chuckles. “Is that why you are rocking your hips, kitten?” 

You gasp as you realise what you are doing, when your hips are moving back and forth and start grinding against his fingers before you can stop yourself. “I can’t help it. It feels so good.” You whine softly and nearly cry out when he presses down deeply against your sweet spot. “Oh, Yoongi—I think I’m going to cum.” 

“Already? So soon?” he groans against your neck as he presses a kiss there. He gives you a few more strokes, pressing deep inside your pussy, before pulling his fingers back out to stop you from embracing your climax. You open your eyes to protest, only to see his mischievous grin as he whispers to you, “What’s the matter, kitten?” 

“Why did you stop?” You pout, making him laugh. 

“Do you want me to go on?” 

“But we’re not finished yet,” you say to him with a soft whine. Looking away from him, you reach down between your bodies to find his erection and wrap your hand around its girth. Using the running water and the excess soap you still have in your grip, you move your hand up and down his length, rubbing off the small stain of mud which is still coating his skin. “You’re still a bit dirty here too, Yoongi.” 

Yoongi’s breath grows heavy as you continue stroking his cock, even when there is no more mud left behind. “You’re growing harder, Yoongi,” you tease him, “Does it feel good?” 

Opening his eyes, Yoongi groans at your touch. “You’re such a naughty kitten. I should punish you for being so bad.” 

“Hmmm—I think I do deserve a punishment, Sir,” you answer him with a low voice. “But can it wait? Please, Sir. I want to feel you inside me. It hurts. You promised to be thorough, and we don’t have that much time left.” 

Groaning deeply, Yoongi grabs your wrist and stops you mid-stroke and slaps your bare bottom to scold you. Once on one side, then once more on the other side to make it even. It draws a gasp out of your lips, while the pain quickly merges into pleasure when he briefly rubs against your tender skin.

“Such a brat,” he says as he steps back in between your legs and presses his cock against your wet folds. “Is this what you want, kitten?” he teases you as he rocks back and forth, rubbing his cock across your hot slit. You feel the tip of his erection pressing at your entrance, and you instinctively move to press against it, hoping that you can get him inside you. 

“Yes, please give me your cock, Sir. I need to cum,” you beg him as you rock back against him, enjoying the shudders rushing through your body which brings heat under the cold running water. 

“Remember that you asked for it,” he says with a deep groan as he presses forward, finally entering you with one firm thrust. You were already close, already sensitive with the orgasm you reached during the bath and then after while he was cleaning you off from the mud, and it doesn’t take long before you feel it rising back up again even before he starts moving. 

The first pulse of your orgasm erupts when he begins rocking his hips. He starts thrusting in and out of you in a rapid pace instead of taking it gently. His rough breathing falls against your neck, with deep moans slipping out each time he pushes his way deeper inside you to make you tremble against his body. 

“Did you enjoy the mud bath, kitten? Tell me what you felt while you were soaking in that messy mud,” he asks you with deep grunts escaping his lips, and without even once slowing down. “Talk to me, kitten. Tell me everything.” 

“It was,” you moan rather loudly as he thrusts forward just when you are trying to speak. “It felt pleasant. So good. Like the mud was massaging my entire body—” you stop with a gasp as your body starts rocking back against Yoongi in your desperate need to feel more. “Then I felt it moving around my—oh, fuck—my pussy, and it started to feel like it was touching me, rubbing against me.” 

Yoongi trembles against you as he feels your walls pulsing around him. Thinking back about the sensation that the mud was giving you draws the same exact reaction from your body as it did before. Only that they all emerge through you more intensely with Yoongi being embedded deeply inside you, his girth rubbing against your walls while you are reminiscing every single thing that you experienced while soaking under the soft, silky mud. 

“Then you started touching me, and I felt a lot more,” you continue with a strangled moan. “It felt like there were so many hands and fingers touching me at the same time, while the mud felt like invisible tongues licking all over my body.” 

“Fuck, that’s crazy hot,” Yoongi groans, and as he tries to imagine how it must have felt for you to find release while he was playing with you in the mud, he unintentionally pushes forward with one rough thrust, sending you rising against the cold tile wall with its force. 

“How did you—oh,” you moan when he shifts, finding a new angle which allows him to reach deeper. “What did you feel while you were in the mud?” 

Yoongi opens his eyes at your question, and his strokes slow down just a little as he recalls his own experience. His eyes grow darker when he shares them with you. “It felt warm. You were right about how it felt like the mud was massaging your body, because it felt the same with me. Only that”—he groans as he tries to remember everything and starts picking up his pace—”it felt almost like it was licking and touching me until I grew hard, almost like I was getting an endless blowjob while I was trying to move closer to you.” 

He starts moving faster again while being lost in his memory, as if he is trying to bring all the sensations back to his body again. “It felt so warm, almost like how it feels right now when I’m deep inside you.” He pushes forward again with a groan. “Only that this—the real thing—is much better. Way better.” 

A sharp gasp slips out of you when he goes back to his rapid thrusts, pounding hard into you like an animal. The sound of your bodies slapping against one another under the running water fills the shower room, while the sound of your cries echoes against the walls around you. 

“Yes, this is it. This is how it felt for me,” he groans deeply as he feels your pussy pulsing around his length, followed by the faint spasms of your incoming release gripping his cock with each thrust he is giving you. He reaches down between your rocking bodies, finding your clit and starts stroking and tormenting it until the waves of your pleasure wash over you and you shudder around his hard shaft.  

“Cum for me, kitten. Cum on my cock right now,” he commands you with a rough pinch at your clit, and you come undone in a blissful climax while he keeps stroking his cock in and out of you. 

Your bodies continue slapping against one another as he rides your orgasm. And he keeps going, continuing his steady thrusts until his body shudders against you as he finds his release, and he slides back into you as deep as he can for the last time as he lets himself go. 

The sound of laboured breathes fill the room once you both fall silent in your slow recovery. It takes a moment before Yoongi finally steps back and releases you, keeping his arm around your waist to hold you steady while he reaches out to stop the shower from running.

“I can see now why they said that this therapy would be perfect for a bonding moment between couples. I’ve never had so much fun as I have today,” Yoongi teases you once you are both dry and fully clothed under the robe, stopping any chance of him initiating anything else while waiting for the staff to retrieve you from the shower room. 

“I don’t think us getting frisky during the treatment and then after were the things that the staff meant when she talked about couples bonding over the therapy, though,” you respond while rolling your eyes. 

Chuckling softly, Yoongi pulls you close to his chest. “Probably not,” he says. “But nobody can blame us for getting the best of it by going a few steps further.” 

“Whatever you say,” you laugh at his playfulness, while almost forgetting that the day isn’t completely over yet. There is still a couple of other treatments that you will have to go through today before leaving the spa. Then you will be returning back to the cabin, where Yoongi will make good of his words yet again by claiming what he is owed. 

But his illicit games and his punishments can wait. Right now, you just want to make use of all the healing that the spa can offer, and enjoy it together with your loving fiancé while the constant hum of your pleasure is still clinging onto you. 

You hold his hand as you wait for the staff to come fetch you before taking you towards the next treatment, already feeling a new kind of excitement along with the contentment now surging through your body. 

This trip may have its ups and downs at the beginning, but after what you shared with Yoongi for the past few hours alone, you can already tell that this is going to be an unforgettable getaway for the two of you. 

One that you will definitely come to revisit in the future to find your sense of peace. 

⤑ Author’s Note | Thank you for reading and for getting this far. Please kindly leave likes/kudos if you enjoyed the story, and also feel free to leave comments and questions if you have any. Any kind of feedback is also welcomed. Thank you again for reading!

— © 2023 @yoonia (Tomoe Dia), all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, and unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed. | First publication & writing on Oct 29th, 2023

[fortheloveofarchons]

The morning after with Xiao

Inspired by GraveASMR on Youtube!

C.W.

- Smut - Hickeys - Scratches - Edging - Pre-cum - Xiao having possessive behaviour - Xiao being a top - Aether being a sub

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The morning light filters softly through the thinly-veiled curtains, casting a warm glow upon the room as Aether stirs awake, enveloped in the comfort of tangled sheets and the lingering warmth of shared intimacy. As his consciousness slowly returns, Aether finds himself in the presence of someone close to his heart.  

“Xiao…”

With a content sigh, he stretches his body, but only stops midway when he feels a stinging sensation on his back, and an aching feeling on his whole body. The faint murmurs of the golden finches’ chirps drift through the open window, a gentle melody that accompanies the soft rise and fall of Xiao’s breathing. The yaksha’s features are softened in the gentle light, half of his face is buried in the pillow, his arms tucking inside the pillow for warmth while his back is revealed with some of Aether’s scratches. 

Longing fills Aether. 

With a gentle touch, Aether brushes a stray lock of hair from Xiao’s face, he wants to be the person to make Xiao feel comfortable– wants to be the person who wakes Xiao with a morning kiss. 

Heck, he’d even take soft kisses, gentle kisses, hotter kisses if those kisses meant that he could continue where they left off last night.  

But Aether knows that there is work to do. Can’t keep Katheryne, the receptionist of the Adventurers’ Guild waiting. 

And so does Xiao, whose title is called the ‘Conqueror of Demons’. 

As Aether is about to sit upright to prepare breakfast for Xiao, the rustles of the sheets and Aether’s movement stirs Xiao awake, watching his golden-haired partner about to stand. 

“Hey…” Xiao immediately grabs Aether’s arm, pulling him back to bed. “Come back. Where do you think you’re going?” 

“Oh! Good morning Xiao,” Aether turns to Xiao, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry to bother you up this early, but I was going to prepare you breakfast and head off for commissions.”

“Oh, you want to go do your commissions already.” Xiao’s arm wraps around Aether’s waist, preventing him from leaving. “Look at you Aether, you can barely stand on your own two legs. Especially after what I did to you last night.”

“Ah…”

As memories of the night before dance through his mind, desire curls low in Aether’s gut. 

~~~~~~

“Aether… You really look ravishing like this, I wish I could see more of this side of you when we are in bed.” 

With Xiao’s soft fingers on Aether’s cheek, along with his left hand sinking into his fluffy, unbraided golden hair, Aether couldn’t help but lean his head onto Xiao’s right hand, licking his thumb, sucking it gently, tasting him.  

Xiao exhales heavily, seeing Aether’s eyes drifting shut to ecstasy. Just a few moments ago, Aether was holding onto Xiao’s body tight as the yaksha bites his neck and chest, leaving wet trails of saliva and hot bites being marked on Aether’s body. Xiao could still feel that stinging pain from Aether’s nails clawing into his back. 

He could imagine that Aether would leave more scratches when Xiao is inside of him. 

“We can’t forget your precious thighs now, can we?” 

A strangled sound catches in Aether’s throat as Xiao’s hand travels down to Aether’s shaft, half-hard and already aching from Xiao’s hot kisses and bites. Xiao is aware that Aether is an immortal like him, surely Aether knows what he’s doing with many years of living, but Xiao did not expect him to be… shy, and a little uncertain.

Aether was the one to make flirty attempts to Xiao, after all. The blonde-haired outlander has to be somewhat experienced.  

Yet, Aether immediately arches into his touch, tears coming out of his eyes from the overwhelming emotion of being edged on. It didn’t help him much when Xiao started to leave kisses on his inner thigh, leaving bites on them. 

Xiao then lifts his head up, and his left hand travels down to Aether’s neck, curving around the back of his neck. He then draws Aether close for a slow kiss, a lingering one, one that makes soft little sounds of pleasure against Aether’s lips. 

Looking down, Xiao could see Aether’s own precum dribbling down to the side of his thigh. Xiao’s teeth then bite into Aether’s lower lip.

“I would call you beautiful, dear traveller.” Xiao says, his voice a low and wicked rumble when he calls Aether as ‘traveller’. 

“But they say that beauty is on the inside and… I haven’t been inside you yet.” 

Aether gasps, his hips jerking hard on Xiao’s....

[abiiors]

one for the road // george daniel x reader

a/n: the idea belongs to my sweet friend ace @ughgoaway and i'm just bringing it to life but JFC GEORGE'S HANDS HAVE BEEN THE ONLY THING ON MY MIND SINCE BOILER ROOM (side note but it took me sooooo long to think of a title until one for the road by am came up on shuffle) cw: semi-public, fingering, edging, slightly dom/sub?? like it's kinda hinted but that's it, the writer’s hand kink is very obvious in this one wc: 2.6k

l.a. traffic is the bane of your existence. everything crawls at a glacial pace, there are a million and one red lights and every once in a while someone tries to honk or zoom past as if that would magically clear the road for them. you try to play some music and even that keeps getting interrupted by the two calls george has gotten so far. 

you’re frustrated beyond belief and so is he, judging by his tight grip on the steering wheel and his clenched jaw. 

“george!” you whine. it’s childish and immature, and yet you can’t help it. it’s not even ten a.m. and everything is already hellish. 

“i know, baby,” he speaks in a low voice, navigating yet more traffic. by some miracle, the car in front of you speeds, opening up space for you to cross the green light. george perks up, about to floor it when someone cuts in from behind, and gets stuck right in front of you. just in time for the light to turn red.

george slaps the steering wheel, letting out a few choice curse words, you groan into your hands, about to curse some more when his hand lands on your thigh. 

it’s innocent enough—something he’s done countless times. it’s almost a permanent resting spot for his hands when you’re driving anyway, but the rough pads of his fingers scratch against your thigh. his rings glint in the sunlight, and you stare at his hands, completely forgetting about the frustration from just a minute ago. 

the red light lasts far longer than it should, longer than it has any right to. but in the end you move again, and george’s hand goes back to the steering wheel. instantly, you miss the warmth of it, the friction of his fingers against the smooth skin of your thigh. you fidget with the hem of your short, short skirt, wishing your fingers felt the same. they don’t, not even close. 

“fuckin’ hell,” george curses quietly, voice gravelly. his fingers drum on the leather, and a deep groan echoes around the car, making your mind go to all the places it really shouldn’t. 

you sneak another look at him, at the way he dwarfs the car seat. his long legs are almost stretched out in front of him, spread wide. your mind wanders to all the times you've sat between them, pleasing him for hours, being a good girl and keeping him warm. 

“you’ve gone quiet,” he speaks suddenly and places his hand back on your thigh. it almost makes you jump but you see right in front of you, at another red light and then at his hand on your thigh, at the veins littering it. 

“‘m fine!” you squeak, voice weirdly high-pitched. 

“you’re annoyed, aren’t you,” he tuts. “‘m so sorry, baby.” he does sound genuinely sorry, stroking your thigh with a gesture that he thinks is comforting.

for you, however, it only makes everything worse. 

george draws small circle on your skin, round and round and absentminded as he waits for the car in front of you to start moving. he doesn’t know how strongly you’re trying not to rub your thighs together. he doesn’t know the kind of buzz filling your head, each time his hand inches higher or inward. 

“n-no,” you choke out, trying to sound as normal as possible. you’re completely fine! you’re not about to soak through your underwear and onto the rich leather seats. “traffic’s normal.”

the last bit catches his attention but before he can say anything, the light turns green and george removes his hand once again. you scrunch your eyes shut, embarrassed at breathy your voice sounded just now. how girlish and needy. 

but the sunlight makes his rings glint again and your mouth goes dry. 

oh to feel them against your cunt… your ass… 

oh to feel the cold metal on your lips while he shuts you up by shoving his fingers in your mouth. 

“baby? you alright?” he tries to sneak a quick glance at you while also keeping an eye on the road. “shit, you’re not carsick, are you?”

sick. yes. that would be one word to describe you—sick in the head for wanting him to use his fingers right now, so publicly in the middle of a busy l.a. highway. right here where anyone can peep in. 

he sneaks another glance at you, a bit longer this time with his brows furrowed and lips pressed in a straight line, and places his hand on your leg again. deliberate. 

“bab—”

“george!” a whine slips out of you, and you can’t help but cross your legs this time, effectively trapping his hand between them. his fingers are so fucking close to your cunt, so…

“oh,” he breathes out and you feel his fingers move. it’s a swipe against the inside of your thigh, so fucking high up that he might as well be touching you now. no, scratch that. he is touching you now as his finger softly brushes over your clothed cunt. you hiss through your teeth, already sensitive. 

“what have you been thinking about, hmm?” your eyes linger on his hand still, half of it disappearing under your skirt. his fingers move deftly, still swiping against your pussy, on the insides of your thigh. “you’re drenched…”

the breath whooshes out of your lungs once the red light hits and george slides the underwear aside. 

“yeah?”

“please…” you all but beg, spreading your legs just a bit wider so his hand can fit better. slowly, leisurely, his fingers move through your folds, parting them and making you moan softly each time he brushes against your clit. 

the red light even allows him to look at you, but you’re far too gone to care what he sees—your eyes half shut, mouth parted and slack, parting further when his thumb presses against your lit. the cold metal of the ring brushes against warm skin, sending a shiver down your back, and you but thrust up. 

“can you–can you go faster?”

“my dirty girl,” he tsks, “you think i’m gonna get you off here? where anyone can see you?”

right. the people. not that you can be blamed for it, the outside world is the last thing on your mind. 

“we aren’t in a rush, are we?” his voice takes a low, mocking quality. it’s so unfair that he should know you this well. that he should know how desperate you are for a release. he isn’t in a rush only because you are. a minute more of this teasing, and you might just lose your mind. 

“i’ll be—”

a horn cuts you off and his eyes snap to the road, where the light, much to your frustration, has turned green once again. within moments george pulls his hand away, fingers just about coated with slick and places it back on the steering wheel. 

“no, no—”

“patience, baby…” he uses the voice he always does when he wants you to obey. it’s the voice that rings around in your head. “i’ll get back to you if you sit patiently.”

and just like that his attention is back to the road again. you huff, aching all over and trying not to replace his hand with yours. it won’t end well for you, if you did that. your thighs feel sticky and the leather of the seat rubs against your skin all wrong. everything is all wrong. craning your neck a little you try to see where the next red light is—suddenly that’s all you crave. suddenly your pulse spikes when you see a light turn green. 

but the traffic takes care of the rest, and george’s fingers are back at your cunt the moment the car comes to a standstill. 

“you’ll be good for me, won’t you?” he asks sweetly, pressing his thumb against your clit just hard enough that you lurch off your seat, squeezing your legs shut again. this is where his hand belongs, this is where it should stay.

“i’ll be good, i’ll be so… so g-good.” the words get harder the more he touches and teases, drawing a lazy eight around your clit and dipping his fingers in and out, never deep enough though. he always pulls them out just before, keeps you right on your toes. in turn, your fingers curl, long nails digging into the leather until it leaves half-moon shaped marks behind. 

if this keeps going, you might just tear through them…

“just a bit m-more… please, george,” you try begging again, not that it worked for you the first time but george relents just a little and pushes his fingers deeper. desperately you clench around him, whimpering and whining and pushing your hips up to take more of him. a second later, he wrenches his hand away, leaving you cold and empty.

tears of frustration brim on your lash line. you were so close, so close to feeling good, feeling floaty. the seat is soaked with your arousal now, and your fingers dig into the seat tight enough to leave your knuckles while. your heart hammers in your throat, head dizzy and swimming with thoughts of only his hands—his hands around your throat, choking the breath out of you. his hands on your ass, squeezing and kneading the skin, hands gripping your hips, your thighs tightly. leaving bruises. 

“shh, baby… you’re doing so well,” his gravelly voice interrupts the train of thoughts and you realise you’ve been squirming and moaning, trying to find at least a little friction from the seat but it’s utterly useless. “you’ll wait till the next red light, won’t you? my good girl.”

“your good girl,” you nod fervently, eager to prove how much you deserve his fingers, how much you deserve an orgasm. george looks at you quickly, smiling in a way that makes his face look sharp and smug and goes back to driving. if it weren’t for the bulge in his jeans, you would have been convinced that this doesn’t affect him at all. 

you almost close your eyes, swallowing harshly to get rid of the tears clogging your throat. you almost even manage to calm yourself down just a smidge, when the car stops again. this time, you barely get a moment’s notice before fingers thrust inside you, deep. all the way in, hitting the sweet spot. your back arches all the way off the seat and you cry out his name. you gulp in large breaths, trying not to pass out at the sudden onslaught of pleasure. 

it’s like he’s turned the dial up from zero to one hundred, pumping his fingers in and out of you, thumb pressed against your clit. his body is twisted to look at you, lips hovering so close to the shell of your ear. once or twice he even nips the soft skin, earning himself yet another cry. 

“yes, yes, that’s it… that’s…”

“yeah? that’s it? am i doing good, baby?”

he is, he knows he is. you feel like you’re on cloud nine, completely forgetting about the other cars outside along with the heat and traffic and every other thing that frustrated you not even an hour ago. the only frustration you know is the frustration of not getting to cum. 

“words, sweet girl,” he taunts, “am i doing good?”

“so good… so good…”

george tsks. “but what if i’m not done with you yet, hmm?”

you can almost hear the pout in his voice, the undercurrent of smugness, and this time you see it coming before he pulls away. 

“no no no nooo, george!” it’s the most frustrated you’ve ever been, shaking and crying, edged over and over again, and at his mercy. every time he pulls away it’s like your body’s doused with ice cold water, each time more tears fall down your cheeks. your mascara must be a mess by now, lipstick smudged by how much you’ve bit your lips.

“you’re mean,” you pout at him and george laughs. he actually laughs!

“do you want me to stop th—”

“no!” you cry out, scared that he’d really stop. scared that you’d have to sit here in a limbo, aching so desperately between your legs and not being able to do anything about it. but at the next red light, george takes mercy on you. 

his fingers hover right over your clit, flicking it swiftly before they’re inside you again. the metal of his rings stings against your skin, digging into the sensitive skin. if anything, the mix of pain and pleasure is all the more heedy, dizzying. your head falls back, back still arched off the seat until your hips are moving of their own accord, rutting and grinding against his hand, riding his fingers. you try to match his pace. 

it’s too much, too much, too much.

“pretty baby,” he coos, “look so good riding my fingers, look so good when you’re desperate for me like this.”

desperate is exactly what you are. you finally place your hand over his, pushing his thick fingers deepers. to your surprise, george even lets you. the rough calluses provide just the right amount of friction. his name is the only thing you can chant over and over again, moaning to the rhythm of his fingers. 

“please, please, wanna cum. please george…”

you know the light's about to turn green, you don’t have much time. you know if he denies you again, you might just lose whatever hold you have on your sanity. george places a kiss on your jaw, lips warm against your skin, his stubble almost scratchy. then his mouth hovers right above your ear. 

“since you asked so sweetly…” 

your entire body tenses at his words, pussy clenching around his fingers so hard until your can practically feel the rings inside you. pleasure swims through your whole body and your vision turns white. the next thing you feel is something wet and sticky sliding under your ass, coating his hands and george continues to finger you. 

your legs shake and tremble with the force of the orgasm, stars flare in front of your closed eyelids and you grip onto his hand, keeping it buried deep between your legs, riding it until the dizzying waves of pleasure subside. grinding on it until you can finally slow down and open your eyes again. 

two seconds later, the light turns green again and he has no choice but to pull away. his fingers leave a trail of your release on the steering wheel. 

“can i clean you up?” you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him even though he’s trying to focus on the road. doesn’t matter though, his hands look just as delicious as before and you can’t help but stick his fingers in your mouth, suck on them, swirling your tongue around the digits until all you can taste is your release. the salty taste of it sits on your tongue and you pushing his fingers in deeping, almost gagging around them, till your lips touch the cold rings.

“fuck,” george curses under his breath when you let go of them and swerves the car, taking the exit he’s just seen. 

“what are you doing?”

“going to find a hotel for us, sweet girl.” he mumbles, shifting in the seat, trying to adjust his very obvious bulge. “haven’t gotten enough of you just yet.”

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