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youarewhatyoulove-blog · 6 months

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the violence of the dog days.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

summary: In the midst of summertime, after a week of neglect, your boyfriend has a way of making you feel even more heated.

you're hot and horny for jeongguk.

rating: mature🔞 (minors please dni)

genre: non-idol au, college au, established relationship, smut, fluff, pwp

word count: 9.2k words of unadulterated smut.

warnings: reader and jeongguk are absolute horny simps for each other, but they're also so inlove, soft boyfriend jeongguk (because yes that is a warning), jeongguk is a law student (oof), overuse of the petname 'baby', reader hasn't been getting it seven days a week😔, switch jeongguk (kinda), hair pulling, hickeys, making out, thigh riding, nipple play (jeongguk is proudly a boob guy), religious imagery because jeongguk worships reader like a god, usage of the words 'c*nt' and 'p*ssy' (because i know some people are iffy about that), cunnilingus (f-receiving), jeongguk is low-key a sadist y'all (in his fantasies), a bit of dom/sub dynamics, prayers for reader because jeongguk's got that big d🙏🏽, unprotected sex, doggy style, degradation, a teeny weeny bit of overstimulation, creampie - like this is just pure smut guys 😬, possessive sex, choking, aftercare, reader kinda hints at having attachment issues (but don't we all).

author's note: 1. please ignore any typos :). of course, i'd appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism. but if you find yourself uncomfortable by any of the themes in this fic, there's no need for hate, just kindly move on. 2. also, this is a lot longer and softer than i intended. this fic was supposed to be purely hard smut, but i fell in love with the characters and their relationship, and some aspects of the story just turned out sickeningly sweet - so proceed with caution.

You're an hour into tossing and turning when you can't take it anymore.

The heat.

With June coming to a close end, the surviving remnants of summer creep in through your bedroom window with barely a whisper of a breeze. It clings to every part of your skin, that ever-lingering humidity thickening the air, and wraps itself around your body like a cloak. For some reason, you thought that scrolling aimlessly through the various apps on your phone would help distract your mind from the muggy weather or maybe, by some miracle, even lull you to sleep.

But it hasn’t—of course it hasn't. Because summer is here to stay, burrowing deep within your bones and making a home there. Each passing minute is a testament to that, insomnia creeping up your spine with ill intent and wriggling into every cranny of your mind until you feel like you're losing it.

Perhaps you are, you think.

Because when the desk fan a few feet away suddenly stops whirring and the fumbling grasp you had on sleep slips from your reach like a fleeting dream in the morning light as a result of it—drifting further and further away—you hit your breaking point. The lack of white noise and cool air blowing your way mounts your frustration into place. It hangs there in the ether like a looming shadow but, unlike your slumber, has no plans of deserting you.

With an annoyed huff, you drop your phone back onto the nightstand for the umpteenth time and kick your leg out from under the duvet.

“Fuck.” You sigh, rolling onto your back.

A thin sheen of sweat lingers on the surface of your skin, causing the sheets to stick uncomfortably to every part of your body. You spread your limbs out like a starfish in some futile attempt to cool them down, hoping that you'll catch a draft, but the action only reminds you of how largely cavernous your bed feels right now.

The space beside you is missing a particular doe-eyed boy and, as your hand brushes over the empty spot, you realize that it's not so much the seasonal heat that's making you feel weirdly restless, but rather Jeongguk's absence. In an inconveniently clingy way, you need his body settled next to you at night, your legs and arms a tangled mess beneath the blankets.

You don't know why that is. Why sleep eludes you like a compass without direction, unable to find its way to you when Jeongguk isn't near. But you don't mull over it or give the thought a foothold to stand amongst the endless anxieties already in your head.

All you know is that cuddling up with him in the evening is perhaps one of your favourite pastimes. Akin to a baby with it's bottle, falling asleep in his embrace is something you've grown incredibly used to, maybe even a little dependent on—like a security blanket or night-light—and there's nothing you can do about it.

Sneaking a glance towards the dim light spilling in from beneath the bedroom door, you picture Jeongguk on the other side. Chances are, he’s still where you last left him. Sitting cross-legged on the couch with a laptop balancing carefully on his lap, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, as he catches up on coursework.

You worry your lip, the thought of your boyfriend causing your mind to wander...

He looked so good tonight; adorned in a pair of grey sweats and a baggy t-shirt with his tattoos fully exposed. His dark hair was strewn across his forehead, falling into his eyes in a way that made your fingers itch.

You, on the other hand, are sporting an old, oversized shirt you opted to steal from Jeongguk's wardrobe to combat the high temperatures, but it hasn't helped much. The heat still loiters, creeping up the back of your neck and imbuing your cheeks with warmth.

It makes you long for winter, for the bitter nip of frosty ice and pelting rain, and the desire for that inadvertently reminds you of that fucking silver lip ring Jeongguk had gotten recently.

The memory of its cold, metal sting against your lips as he kissed you goodnight sends a distant, carnal hum coursing throughout your veins. It's probably tugged anxiously between his teeth right now whilst he types away, eyes deadset on the screen before him, and the image of that sends you reeling. Makes your skin flush further, yearning to feel its steel bite again.

For some reason, it propels you into motion, skin prickling as you throw your legs over the edge of the mattress without a second thought.

The last thing you want to do is bother his progress or interrupt his work, but selfishly, you persist. That gnawing feeling deep within your chest is too hard to ignore, heart beating voraciously with each step you take because it longs to be satiated by Jeongguk's presence. Your boyfriend is only one room over, just four thin walls separating the two of you, yet still—you miss him, want him.

Treading lightly, you hear the persistent click-clack of his keyboard and the muffled sound of typing only grows louder as you step out into the hallway. The wooden flooring is frigid beneath your feet, a sensation you immediately relish in as soon as the fiery crawl of discomfort across your skin begins to lessen. Your shirt—or more precisely, Jeongguk’s shirt—falls flat from your waist, landing a few inches above your knees, as you wander further into the apartment.

Just as you’d predicted, Jeongguk is all pretzelled up on the sofa, too focused on his work to hear you enter. A few empty bottles of soju and convenience store snacks litter the coffee table, serving as silent witnesses to the length of time he's been out here. He must have dimmed the lights as well because a faint, warm glow shrouds every facet of the room, making him look particularly soft at this hour.

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around the length of his shoulders as you bend over the couch's headrest to envelop him in a hug. ”Hey,” You hum softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jeongguk startles slightly at the contact, shaken from his deep concentration as he angles his head to look up at you. “Shit, baby. You scared me.” He breathes, voice rough from disuse. It rumbles through you like a distant thunderstorm, body vibrating with electricity.

“Sorry,” You murmur, glancing at the assignment he's been working on and tiny pangs of guilt gradually trickle into your stomach. “I didn't mean to disturb you, but-”

“You're not disturbing me.” Jeongguk instantly reassures, scanning your face with a knowing look. “Can’t sleep?” He asks and you nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The scent of his body wash immediately encompasses you like a warm embrace, wild pinewood and bergamot invading your senses.

“I thought you’d be in bed by now.” You mumble against his skin, unable to hide the pout in your voice.

Jeongguk frowns, eyes flickering to the time at the bottom of his laptop screen.

Shit, he hadn’t even noticed how late it’s gotten, the hours skulking along the cusp of a new day. He should probably be turning in for the night, head to bed and worry about this project tomorrow, but he’d rather not postpone his responsibilities. Not when you’re staying over the weekend and he could be spending that time with you instead.

“I know.” Jeongguk responds, hand coming up to intertwine with yours. “I’ll be there soon, okay?” He promises, bringing your knuckles to his lips. The featherlight kiss he presses there soothes you like a curative balm.

“Okay,” You relent, untangling yourself from his body. “But, can I stay here for a bit? It’s too hot in there.” You half lie, gesturing towards the bedroom while simultaneously walking over to the kitchen only a few feet away.

“Yeah, of course.” He murmurs, eyes following your movements.

“Thanks, Kook.” You smile, sparing him a glance over your shoulder as your eyes sparkle with mirth. “By the way, your fan broke down again.”

“Again?” He laments, eyebrows furrowed together whilst he runs a disgruntled hand through his hair. “I seriously need to get that old thing repaired or maybe even replaced.” He grumbles to himself, before a guilty afterthought occurs at the sight of you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby. No wonder you couldn't sleep.”

You don't tell him that it's not so much the heat keeping you awake but, more so, him.

“No, don't worry about it.” You settle on instead, trying to dispel his concerns. “It's not your fault.”

This isn't the first time that Jeongguk’s fan has given him problems. He's had the thing since high school; so it’s no surprise that the motor tends to give in every now and then, running a little too hot. He’s been meaning to get the issue sorted, but hasn’t really found the time to do that these days.

“Plus, I'd much rather be out here with you.” You add.

Jeongguk smiles at you so sweetly then, dimples making an appearance, and your body flushes all over, burning once again.

God, what is wrong with you tonight?

You need to calm down, cool down. At this rate, you feel like an overheating engine, bound to crash in on yourself and combust.

Grabbing a glass of ice water from the fridge dispenser, you rein yourself in, distracting your mind with conversation. “I promise not to be a bother though, like you won't even notice I'm here.” You say, before chugging the cold liquid down on the spot, completely ignorant to the way that Jeongguk drinks you in.

A welcome sight is what you are, so cute tonight with your hair all mussed, practically drowning in his shirt. “You’re never a bother.” He responds, mouth going dry when you lean back to empty the glass. The action causes your shirt to hike up, the creamy expanse of your thighs further exposed to his hungry eyes.

He feels his dick stir at the sight.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be?” You ask, wiping your lips with the back of your palm, as you place your cup in the sink and shuffle over towards your boyfriend.

“Uhh…” Jeongguk clears his throat, broken out of his stupor. He turns back to face his laptop, skimming the Word document that's open before him when he feels you nestle into his side a second later. Automatically, he brings a hand down to rest against your leg.

“I’m not sure,” He grumbles, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your bare thigh. The absent-minded touch ignites something in you, skin blazing at the contact, and you try your best to suppress the goosebumps that rise in Jeongguk’s wake. “Maybe another hour or so?” He guesses.

“Oh.” You mumble and, although you fight the disappointed curl of your lips, Jeongguk doesn’t miss the deflated look on your face.

“I’m sorry,” He squeezes your thigh apologetically, frown overtaking his pretty features. “I know it’s been a while since we spent time together.”

A week exactly, you note, but ultimately keep that detail to yourself. After all, neither one of you is to blame for being so busy, constantly caught between work and university.

You think that's maybe the reason you're feeling so needy tonight, body set ablaze by every minor look and touch from your boyfriend. In a way, you're feeling a little neglected since your relationship’s taken the backseat, not by choice but by consequence, and you don’t know how to deal with it.

“It's fine.” You shrug. "It's not like we can help it.”

You try to be nonchalant about the matter, injecting the slightest hint of indifference into your tone, but Jeongguk sees right through you.

He always does.

“Come here.” He says suddenly, voice soft as he shifts his laptop onto the coffee table.

You look up at him, confusion clear on your face.

“What?” You blink, but your question falls on deaf ears because Jeongguk merely uncrosses his legs and pats his lap.

“Come here,” He then repeats and reaches for your waist.

You're uncertain for the briefest of moments, eyeing Jeongguk suspiciously, before you ultimately give in like malleable clay in his soft hands, allowing him to pull you onto his lap with ease. “I've been working for hours.” He grumps once you're comfortably straddling his waist, hands resting on either side of your hips. “Hardly seen you since you got here.”

You hum, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. It's no secret that you've been spending a lot more time at Jeongguk's place in lieu of your ratty little dorm room. You felt bad about it at first, feeling as though you were invading his space and overstaying your welcome. But your boyfriend couldn't be happier about it. He rather likes the idea of your lives interlocking, melding together as if they were puzzle pieces falling into place. He likes that when he's working, like on nights like this, that you're just on the opposite side of the door, not one phone call or car ride away.

He likes that you're his and he is, equally as much, yours.

“I wanted to leave you to your work.” You explain, curling your arms around his neck. Your fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair that have grown out and the light touch only brings about the memory of how much he has missed you these past few days.

“Well, it's about time I take a break, don't you think?” Jeongguk muses and you become hyper-aware of the way his fingers brush up your spine. “Give my girl some attention…” He trails on, eyes flickering to your lips.

You practically preen at the idea, smiling shyly as you lean into his touch. “I wouldn't object to that.” Your heart patters in your chest, beating wildly at the mere sight of Jeongguk. At the thought of him finally touching you, kissing you, quenching your thirst after this week-long drought. “I've missed you.”

Jeongguk chuckles faintly. “Me too, baby.” He murmurs, perching his head upwards to press his lips against yours.

The kiss is gentle, chaste, his plush lips feeling so featherlight against yours. You almost imagine they were never there to begin with because Jeongguk pulls away before you can truly savour the taste of them.

“You know, you look so pretty in my clothes.” He begins, large hand spreading lazily around your left hip and up your back. “Kinda makes me want to wreck you.”

“You already wreck me.” You breathe without missing a beat.

“Yeah?” Jeongguk rasps, his voice low and a little dark. It sends a thrill straight up your spine.

You nod in response, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “No one makes me feel the way you do.” You admit, eyes flitting across his face. It's an unwavering truth—one that simultaneously scares and excites you in this quiet dead of night.

“Can I kiss you again?” The words come out as a breathy whisper; as if you've been holding on to them for too long, as if they're the oxygen you so desperately need to breathe, and Jeongguk tilts his head, bewildered frown on his face.

“How is that even a question.” He gripes, slanting his head in a means to meet your mouth halfway, but you have another idea.

You press into him instead, leaning forward, and set out to peck lovingly along the curvature of Jeongguk’s jawline. He huffs in amusement, endeared by the way you take control. Because, although he’s usually the dominant one in the bedroom, he doesn't mind when you take charge like this. In fact, he's grown to love it. Loves the way you come into your own, toying and teasing with him, until your own actions cause you to grow desperate.

It's one of his greater weaknesses, his Achilles heel, and right now, you want nothing more than to expose it. Unveil a certain side of him. The one that'll see how far you can push before he starts to push back. The one that'll give in and take you right here on this couch after he's entertained your antics for long enough and you finally beg him to fuck you.

Your body practically hums at the thought.

You map out his skin, lips brushing against the surface like you're exploring a new land. Every movement careful, every touch claiming what's yours. And it almost goes to your head—how quickly Jeongguk submits to your mouth’s assault, his body relaxing into the couch like he's letting you have your way with him.

Jeongguk doesn't tell you that he is. That your lips are a holy grail he'd happily yield to.

When your teeth graze lightly at a particular soft spot below his ear, he lets out a small groan, eyes falling closed at the sensation. You feel the sound roll through you, the ache between your legs becoming hard to ignore when you think about the fact that you've roused that melody from his mouth.

It spurs you on, makes you want to hear it again and again. You want to paint the entire column of his neck red and then watch your confession of love fade to a bruised purple in the weeks to come. You want to rediscover all the ways that you can make Jeongguk sing, and the way your body dances to his tune in turn. Your lips lap him up, kisses becoming indelicate with desperation, teeth nipping with intent along his upper jaw, tongue tracing over the skin before you repeat all these gestures twicefold.

You can feel yourself growing wet, relish in the way that Jeongguk's hands tighten around your form. “Shit,” He mumbles and your body crows. Without pause, you shift against his lap and move to the neglected side of his neck, targeting the skin there. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, your core situated right above his growing erection, and it causes a shiver to run down your spine.

You plant a few messy kisses against his throat, nibbling vehemently, but then Jeongguk tuts and pries his eyes open before you have the opportunity to really sink your teeth into him.

“Baby,” He warns, curling a hand into your hair to form a makeshift ponytail. “No marks. I've got a presentation on Monday.” He says and pulls you back by an inch. His movements are somewhat hesitant, voice rough, like he's not entirely sure he truly wants you to stop.

But he has to. He can't afford to show up to class on Monday and present the most important project of his life with hickeys all over his neck.

“Next time.” He promises, but you consider outright ignoring him for a second, even though it's nonsensical, like some twisted form of punishment for a week of neglect.

But it’s Jeongguk—Jeongguk who’s been extra stressed lately about completing his degree. Jeongguk who’s carving time out of working on his big assignment right now—one which, not only counts forty percent of his grade, but could also earn him an internship at one of the top law firms in Seoul if he's lucky enough—all to pay special attention to you.

So, “Fine.” You give in, albeit a little petulantly, and brace your hands against his chest, face feeling flushed. “I’m sorry. I just wanna be close to you is all.”

“I know. Me too.” He rasps, grip on your hair loosening a touch, but not completely. “We don't have to stop though, just don't mark me up.” He explains, free hand rubbing up and down your thigh.

“Okay,” You slide your palms up his chest, feeling the toned muscles tense beneath your touch. “I really love you, you know?”

Jeongguk's eyes soften, a hint of a smile creeping up on his face. “I know,” He hums, tugging at your hair in a way that makes your scalp tingle. “But I don't think it comes close to how much I love you.” He rasps, using his grip as leverage to pull your head backwards until the delicate skin of your throat is exposed. “It's incomparable.” He murmurs, placing a single kiss on the side of your mouth before he travels south, lips peppering across your jawline.

You shiver, hands twisting into the thick material of Jeongguk's t-shirt. You want to tell him that it's not a competition, that you'd love him until the sun stops rising and, even if this one week of distance had been more, you know that he feels the same.

But the heavy palpitations in your chest causes the words to dissolve on your tongue because Jeongguk pulls the collar of your shirt to the side a second later, exposing more of your skin, before he traces a path along your décolletage. He's touching you like a starved man, mouth just as desperate and feverish as you’re starting to feel.

A stuttered gasp escapes your lips, your hands moving upwards, unsure of where to be, when he nips at a particularly sensitive spot. You settle them on his shoulders.

“Jeongguk,” You moan, the tingling between your legs maturing into an unbearable ache.

“I know, baby.” He abruptly pulls away from your clavicle—lips red, eyes blown. “Tell me what you want.”

His demand goes over your head because you don't know what you want; can barely think straight with the lingering feeling of Jeongguk's lips on your neck. With the growing wetness sticking uncomfortably to your panties. With the burning, hot embers laying at the base of your stomach, begging to be set ablaze. And Jeongguk knows that. Knows that you're neither here nor there, only somewhere in the middle, teetering on the line of endless choices. So he lets go of your hair then, manoeuvres your body until you're straddling only his left thigh.

“Don't think about it, baby.” He murmurs, both hands moving to your hips. He guides them back and forth, slow and gentle, with just enough pressure to relieve that desperate throbbing in your pussy. “Just feel.”

And you do, sinking into your own little bubble, a paradise as impenetrable as the gates of heaven. You take your time to grind up against him, moving in tandem with the flow of his hands and a soft whimper climbs up your throat at the sensation of your clit brushing against the firm muscles of Jeongguk’s thigh. You're already so soaked, underwear absolutely sodden from the relentless pendular motions of your pelvis, and when you look down to find a dark, damp spot beginning to stain Jeongguk's sweatpants, you can't help but intensify your movements.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you've become turned on, how much you're dripping, when Jeongguk's barely touched you, but instead you just feel liberated. Pure power coursing through your veins because your boyfriend has given you the reins, is letting you use his body like a bitch in heat, and it's exhilarating; intoxicating every facet of your mind.

“That's it,” Jeongguk purrs, deserting your hips once you gain momentum to instead sneak both hands up the hem of your shirt.

Your breath escapes its chambers when he trails past the soft curve of your waist and straight to your breasts. “Fuck, you're so beautiful.” He grunts, gaze intent on your every reaction, like he's watching artwork unfold. His nimble fingers circle your nipples, tracing them with the most tantalizing pattern, until they begin to harden.

“Please,” You choke, clasping his shirt in between your fists like it's some sort of lifeline. You're not even sure what you're begging for, pace quickening as you ride Jeongguk’s thigh more aggressively. Every rut forward sends sparks shooting throughout your body, nerve endings alight, and when Jeongguk pinches your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, your back arches in pleasure. A throaty moan penetrates the room otherwise filled with nothing but your uneven pants and the sound of Jeongguk's voice.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” He groans, hands inching towards your shirt’s lower seam. He drags it over your torso, itching for better access to your breasts. Even in your muddled state, you meet him halfway, raising your arms above your head until the damned thing is off and you're left in nothing but your lacy underwear.

You hardly have time to adjust to the humid air hitting your torso, when Jeongguk tips his head forward, enveloping your right nipple into his mouth with reckless abandon. The response is instantaneous, a strangled sob slipping past your lips at the feeling of his warm mouth encased around your stiffened peak. His tongue swipes across your nipple, shockwaves manifesting at the blissful contact, and you don't know how much longer you're going to last—an embarrassing feat you don’t ponder on too much.

Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the attention Jeongguk pays you. Whimpering when the pads of his fingers move to fondle the nipple of your forsaken breast while the other submits to his mouth’s pleasurable torment, each purposeful pinch causing them to tighten all the more. Your skin feels like it's on fire, the warmth of Jeongguk's touch igniting the cinders glowing from deep within your belly. “I-I think,” You swallow, your pussy rubbing deliciously into Jeongguk's leg. “I think I'm going to come soon,” You manage to admit through a repressed whine, voice so strained it sounds foreign even to your own ears.

You don't think you've ever hit an orgasm this quickly. You've never had to. Because you and Jeongguk are like inseparable magnets; every atom in your bodies drawn to each other, always connecting like two poles seeking the other out—never going more than a few days without some form of intimacy. Never mind a week.

At least, not until now.

So when Jeongguk bounces his leg upwards to meet the force of your pussy coming down on his quadricep, adding to the way you slam into him, your clit positively throbbing at the impact, you feel the onset of that familiar coil in your stomach tightening.

“Just let go, baby.” Jeongguk rasps, granting you permission with one final flick of your nipples and then you're coming undone, white fiery heat flooding every fiber of your body, as you cry out his name. Only his name, forever on your lips. You feel the way your entire form convulses, the way Jeongguk helps you through it, flexing his thigh so that you can get the most out of your orgasm, and your hips buck forward—unrelenting and greedy—before they finally ease into a slow rut. Grinding into him until the receding, minuscule waves of pleasure begin to fade.

With the last few clenches of your pulsating core, you slowly catch your breath, muscles slackening as you become pliant in Jeongguk's arms, the weight of your body suddenly too much for you to bear. Your boyfriend holds you tight though, both hands moving to your waist to keep you secure.

Behind the darkness of your closed eyelids; you hear Jeongguk softly murmur your name and feel the way his hand comes up to your face, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear before he cups your cheeks. “You okay, angel?” He asks, voice emerging as a hushed tone.

When you manage to tear your eyes open and give him a soft, affirmative nod, Jeongguk seems satisfied, pressing a delicate kiss to your sternum before he shifts you from his lap and onto your back in one fell, but gentle swoop.

Your head hits the soft leather of the sofa with the aftermath of your climax still lingering against your skin like crackling electricity, fuzzing up your mind. “You think you can take more?” He asks, eyes flitting across your face to get a read on your current state of mind.

You nod your head assuredly, reaching out to make a grab for his body, to bring him closer. “Yeah I can,” You say confidently, arm's snaking up his back to explore the taut muscles that reside there.

Jeongguk is hovering over your body, thigh pressed hotly between your legs, and even though you can feel the rush of arousal, brought on only a second ago, pooling uncomfortably in your underwear—you want more. You want him. “I want to carry on.”

Jeongguk studies your demeanour, casting your body and expression a careful once-over, because he wants to feel you, be in you, wants to make you see stars. But it's only a matter of whether you're able to handle that right now. He has barely had his way with you, but you already look so fucked out, so perfect for him. It makes the blood rush straight to his dick. “You make me crazy.” He rasps, eyes locking with yours as he brings a hand up, tracing his thumb along your bottom lip.

You almost cower beneath his touch, beneath the sincerity of his gaze; appraising the very depths of your being as if you were a delicate treasure, as if he were staring at a god or something of a divine beauty.

Jeongguk thinks that maybe he is; thinks you’re the light, the one thing he’d worship morning, noon and night through blind faith. And there are barely enough words in the dictionary for him to express this notion to you, so instead he settles for “I love you.” Voice as rough as the high tides, but softer than moonlight.

He feels compelled to tell you this every chance he gets, a hopeless slave to his feelings for you. “Like I've never loved anything else in my life.” He continues. It's a quiet confession in the night, not a new one, but the words mean just as much as the first time he admitted them to you.

You feel yourself melt, can't remember ever feeling this cherished. Not since before Jeongguk and hopefully, never after. “I love you too.” You murmur, taking a moment to drink in every detail of the man who has left you restless all night.

Your eyes flicker over the defined cut of his jaw. The delicate curve of his lips and the pretty mole resting just beneath it. The small kissable scar on his cheek. The feathery flutter of his eyelashes. The strands of hair that have fallen over his face, and you retract your hand from his back to push them away.

How did you ever get this lucky?

“So much.” You emphasize and your voice thickens with the weight of your words, spoken from the very depths of your soul. “More than you could ever know.” Because there aren't enough words in the dictionary to get this notion across, so instead you lift your head, planting a firm kiss to Jeongguk’s lips as if sealing a vow, a promise of forever.

Jeongguk receives your kiss like he does with everything else related to you; openly, hungrily. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip—once—twice—and you instantly become pliant under his weight. Your fingers find his hair, tangling into the dark tresses as you deepen the kiss. It’s hot and it’s heavy, and in the distant part of your mind, you register that Jeongguk tastes like peaches, most likely from the alcohol he’s been drinking.

The sweetness of his lips immediately goes to your head; drunk and euphoric, and all grace flies out the window the next second. “Touch me,” You murmur breathlessly against his mouth, fingertips skimming over the nape of his neck. “Please, I need you.”

Jeongguk groans, a husky sound resonating from deep within his throat. “Fuck,” You can feel how rock hard he’s gotten, his erection pressing into your inner thigh and it's making you delirious with need. “I’ll give you anything you want.” Jeongguk rumbles, his mouth forming a wet, messy trek away from yours to embrace the flesh of your breasts.

You want to tell him that it's him, only him you want. Puppeteering your every move, body relinquishing itself to his touch. But you don't. You can't, not when Jeongguk's teeth leave scarlet marks across your chest that render you mute, words evaporating on your tongue like sacramental bread.

“My pretty baby,” He coos tenderly and you fight the urge to rut up against him. “Always so fucking ready for me.“ He praises, kisses traveling southward and it burns, searing, everywhere that Jeongguk touches you. You think you might erupt or shatter, and nothing less, if he doesn't meet you where you really need him to, your cunt begging to be satiated with his fingers, or his tongue, or his dick—anything.

A whimper escapes your lips, an embarrassing, desperate sound hanging in the thick air, as you glance down past your heaving breasts. You watch as Jeongguk abandons your boobs, planting a trail of kisses across the expanse of your stomach, your hip bones—takes the tiny little ribbon on your underwear between his teeth and tugs. The deliberate gesture causes your panty to rise up a bit, ever so slightly brushing against your clit in the process, and you bite down on your bottom lip, holding back an ungodly moan.

You can't take it anymore, all this teasing.

Jeongguk can read it on your face; sees it in the way you swiftly tilt your head back, eyes closed, brows scrunched together. He knows you like the back of his hand, which is how he gauges that you've fallen back into a place of submission—done with the tortuous foreplay, done with calling the shots, done with delaying the inevitable. You want him to fuck you, to use your body the same way you had used his mere minutes ago. And if his dick could get any harder at the thought, it would.

Jeongguk licks his lips, slips a finger into the curve of your waistband as he murmurs, “I’m gonna take this off now, okay?”

You nod your head, not daring to open your eyes to confront the image of Jeongguk's face a mere hair's breadth away from your cunt. It's too erotic. Too much. You feel him drag the thin garment down your legs, a string of arousal following suit, and suddenly feel self-conscious, attempting to close your legs to hide how shamefully wet you are.

But Jeongguk's not having any of that.

He carelessly chucks the lacy material to the side like it’s nothing but a rag, a nuisance, and then grips your inner thigh. “Don't you dare,” He grunts, using his grasp to keep your legs apart, lifting them upwards until your knees are bent to your chest and your ankles are resting over his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt.

You barely have time to register the ticklish feeling of Jeongguk's breath fanning against your core before he dives straight in, licking a long stripe across your pussy, and your hips instinctively buck up. “Shit,” You mewl, rejoicing in the way his tongue traverses from your slit to your clit, lapping up every drop of arousal.

Jeongguk groans, a sound so low, stemming from the heart of his diaphragm, when he samples that first morsel of your leaking nectar. You taste like heaven, so sweet and unbearably wet, and all just for him.

“So fucking good,” He grumbles, mouth drinking you in. His tongue is unrelenting in its efforts to devour your pussy, and the overwhelming sensation of him slurping and sucking—of him eating you out like a connoisseur tasting the rarest of delicacies—causes frenzied pools of pleasure to ripple within the base of your belly.

He keeps at it, nose brushing against your clit as a byproduct, and after a few minutes the pure, unwavering rapture of Jeongguk's tongue becomes excruciating. A feeling so good, it’s almost too much. “Jeongguk,” You wail, heels digging into the couch as you try to back away from his mouth, but your boyfriend merely hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you closer. Holding you in place; unable to run or escape from the ruthless onslaught of his tongue, from the metal bite of his piercing brushing against your lower lips. “I can't,” You cry, writhing beneath his touch.

With his grip keeping you firmly anchored, Jeongguk brings one hand down to toy with your swollen clit, fingers moving in languid, clockwise motions. “You can,” He grunts thickly, tongue slipping between your folds and prodding deliciously at your hole. “I know you can, baby.” He mumbles in between fucking your drenched pussy with his fleshy muscle.

You shake your head frantically, eyes screwed shut, as you feel the waves of your second orgasm surfacing. “Not like this,” You beg, using your hands to reach down, fingers twisting into his fluffy hair as you desperately try to push him away. “Please, I want you in me.” A sob runs free, your walls pulsating around nothing because Jeongguk is taking his time with you, teasing your opening like he's got all night. But you don't. You're close, so fucking close, you can feel it in the tightening muscles of your pelvis, in the quivering of your legs.

But Jeongguk isn't giving you enough. He isn't giving you what you need. Your boyfriend, in all his hot glory, is taking you there with his tongue, swirling insufferably along your orifice—bringing you right up to the edge of the plank with an ocean of pleasure waiting just below your feet, but then he pulls you back. Drags you from the precipice before you can allow yourself to fall in, and it causes a frustrated whine to escape your lips. You need his cock deep inside, filling you up, pushing you off the ledge and into troubled waters. Your pussy throbs at the very thought. “Please Kook,” You find yourself beseeching for the second time. “I wanna cum with you in me.”

And any thread of composure Jeongguk has been holding on to up until that point, snaps at the pure neediness burrowed within your tone.

He looks up at you; lips glistening, eyes dilated—a mess of a man. But you don't look any better—or, if you were getting a glimpse of yourself through Jeongguk's point of view, never better—skin flushed, gleaming with a fine film of sweat, lips swollen from the way you've been biting them, and all at once, Jeongguk is overcome with the desire to give you everything you've ever wanted.

“Fuck, okay,” He curses, rising to his knees and you force your eyes open at the rough edge tainting his voice, at the overwhelming relief of getting what you wished for. “But it’s going to be a bit of a stretch, baby.” He says, not having prepped you fully. It's been a while since the two of you have had sex and, if he had it his way, he would have given you his fingers first, would have warmed and widened your lubricated walls, to ease the initial discomfort of him entering you.

But you look so pretty beneath him, so impatient, and—“I can handle it,” You mollify, voice a sweet concoction of sultry persuasion.

He nods in response, a curt motion, because if he thinks about how eager you're being, about how you're willing to take a little bit of the pain for the insurmountable pleasure, he might just come right there. Might just think of all the other ways you like to hurt; of the way you'd react if his palm made rough contact with your ass cheeks, or what would happen if he handcuffed you to his bedpost and stuffed you full with a vibrator and butt plug—if he fucked you tonight with no end in sight. He wonders if you'd cry, if you'd beg him for more or want him to stop, sopping and spent. More than that, he wants so badly to find out.

Jeongguk’s dark eyes find yours, their typical doe-eyed demeanour having turned hooded a long time ago. Yours are twinkling with anticipation, watching intently as he pulls his sweatpants down, letting them hang low beneath his buttocks. His cock immediately springs free, slapping against his stomach, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip at the sight.

“Come here,” Jeongguk's voice carries a jagged intonation, raw and untamed, and breaks through you like crashing waves. But when he makes a grab for your body, his hands are nothing but gentle, hoisting you up onto your knees and positioning you on all fours.

With your ass bared before him, face pressed into the cold faux leather of the couch, Jeongguk smooths a hand down your back, watches with satisfaction as your spine yields before his touch, and then he takes a hold of his dick. Doesn't even bother giving it a few preliminary pumps because he's already painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip as he lines himself with your hole.

He doesn't put it in though.

First, he teases your little cunt with only the head of his length, not fully embedding himself within your warmth just yet. You whimper pathetically at the testing prod, fingers balling into frustrated fists, while Jeongguk watches in awe as your entrance narrows, pleading to be stuffed.

“God, look at you.” Jeongguk groans, eyes traveling from your glistening pussy to the state of your overall servile form.

He places one hand on your hip, fingers digging into the skin there, as he inches just the slightest bit forward, his dick slowly pushing into you. Your mouth parts at the sensation and you shakily prop yourself up onto your elbows, head falling forward with a moan. “So fucking needy, huh.” He goads when you attempt to meet him in the middle, subtly backing up against his pelvis.

“No,” You shake your head as if it's some sort of lie, as if you haven't been thinking about this moment since you stepped over the doorsill of Jeongguk’s apartment earlier. And your boyfriend laughs—he actually laughs—a maniacal, derisive sound that rings in your ears.

“There's no need to deny it, baby.” He drawls like smooth liquor hitting the back of your throat, a silky succour that, for some reason, has you dumbly nodding along. Because Jeongguk’s entering you more now, his dick fighting against the tight restraint of your heat, and you're too distracted by the feeling of it to fully comprehend what he's saying.

“I mean,” He continues, reaching down between your legs to gather the wetness clinging to your folds before he bends over your back, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You’d think you've never been fucked a day in your life.” He murmurs, bringing his slick fingers to your level of sight.

You flush instantly, burning at the way your arousal dwells on Jeongguk's digits and forms a translucent web when he parts them into a V shape. “I can't help it,” You breathe shamefully, about to protest that it's his fault for letting you go so long without attention, for not taking care of your sexual needs and making you this susceptible to moments of depravity, when Jeongguk fully entrenches himself into your heat without so much as a warning.

“Aah,” Your jaw slackens at the sudden stretch of his length against your walls, the sensation so unfairly delicious you find yourself clenching around the intrusion with a gasp, and your boyfriend uses the opportunity to stuff his letch-laiden fingers into your mouth.

“Clean them.” He grunts, lazily rocking forward and you choke back a moan, mouth instantly closing around his fingers. Head full of clouds, pussy filled to the brim, you obey. Your tongue licks up the juices stuck to his slim digits, gliding sensually across each one with care, and you vaguely hear Jeongguk curse below his breath, hips grinding into your core. “Fuck, just like that, angel.” He praises, allowing you to suck them clean for a few more seconds before he pulls them from your lips altogether with a lewd pop.

“Such a good girl,” He murmurs lovingly, pressing a singular kiss to your shoulder blade before he straightens to his full height behind you. “Always so perfect for me.”

Jeongguk's hands find your ass again and he gives the supple flesh a few gentle squeezes, savouring the way you whine in response.

“Please,” Your words come out embarrassingly broken and wretched, heart hammering in your chest with want, as you peek at Jeongguk over your shoulder. “Please, no more teasing. Just fuck me.”

“What do you think I'm doing?” Jeongguk asks, eyebrow raised, voice harbouring a hue of cockiness. He withdraws his thick length from your warm embrace at an agonizingly slow rate before thrusting right back in, repeating the motion steadily. “I'm fucking you right now, aren't I?”

You want to cry, your need to come so severe, it's starting to physically hurt.

Your fingers leave deep indents in the couch as you tackle the burning coals of frustration setting every inch of your body on fire. “M-More,” You stammer, feeling a pearl of arousal trickle down your thigh. You're so turned on right now, your mind an empty haze as Jeongguk edges you into oblivion, cunt so wet, you can barely feel the brush of his shaft against your walls anymore. “I need more.”

Jeongguk grins, feels the crown of his cock brush against a particular soft spot, and then decides to give you what you want. Because he loves it when you beg, when you become a blubbering mess beneath him, so cock-hungry, you forget yourself.

Without a moment's pause, Jeongguk pounds into you with unbridled vigour. His hips slap against your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room, and your body jerks forward at the impact. Your core is so drenched he's able to enter you with little resistance now. Emitting a rough, throaty groan, he fixates on how your creamy arousal coats his cock, disappearing in and out of your cunt.

“F-Fuck,” You hiss, your hand reaching back to firmly grip Jeongguk’s wrist for support, but he takes advantage of your extended arm and yanks you up until your back is pressed to his chest.

The new position gives him better access to your front and Jeongguk ghosts a hand around your waist without a second thought, smooths it down your stomach until he reaches your clit. Your body jolts the instant his fingers make contact with the swollen bud, legs quivering with the strength it's taking you to stay upright.

Your boyfriend notices your struggle and hooks his other arm around your waist, his fingertips holding you so tightly you won't be surprised if some bruises appear there tomorrow.

“Fuck, I've missed this.” He rasps, more to himself than you, whilst drilling against your g-spot. But the words affect you just the same as your pussy tightens in response, squeezing him into a death grip, and Jeongguk's hips stutter. “Jesus,” He groans, making a mental effort to stave off his own orgasm, trying to focus solely on you.

You really are going to be the death of him.

He breathes heavily through his nostrils before starting up again, slowly driving into you and his cock burrows so deep, you swear you can feel it in your uterus.

His fingers skim over your clit, tracing the nub ever so slightly because you're starting to flinch from his touch, starting to grow sensitive. And when your head falls back against his shoulder, a choked whine forcing its way out your throat, Jeongguk knows that you're close.

“You gonna come for me?” Jeongguk's lips brush against your temple, his hand deserting your pussy in sympathy to knead your breasts instead. You feel his thumb run over your nipple, static lightning steamrolling across your skin with each sweep.

“I-ah!” You can barely form a coherent sentence, the inklings of even one lucid thought slipping from your empty, fucked out mind as Jeongguk slams into you. He's setting a brutal pace, the noise of skin-against-skin undeniably obscene, but you can hardly find the will to care when the muscles in your abdomen begin to tense. They twist up like a clockwork toy, winding and winding, until Jeongguk hits a particular spot that makes your toes curl, and then you're coming undone for the second time tonight, knees buckling with the sheer force of your orgasm.

It hits you like a freight train, your body spasming. White dots of euphoria blur your vision, the pleasure so blinding, and Jeongguk's hold around your midsection is the only reason you don't collapse right there onto the couch.

“That's it, baby.” He reveres, hips never ceasing their movements even as your walls contract sporadically, determined to fuck you through it. An uncannily pornstar moan spills from your lips, mind and body having finally plunged into the silvery, stormy torrents of your climax, and the strangled sound causes something impossibly primal to rupture within Jeongguk. It thrashes at his chest like a wild caged animal, demanding release, and he recognizes the feeling all too well.

“You're mine, right? ” He finds himself grunting, voice husky with strain. The hand that was attending to your boobs instinctively ascends to your throat, squeezing slightly as he chases his own high, gives in to that grueling streak of possessiveness that only every rears its head when he has you like this—naked and vulnerable—and you groan at the familiar pressure.

You hum, walls clenching around him. “Only yours.” Your own hand reaches up, cuffing around his wrist for support as a tremor runs down your spine.

Jeongguk feels his balls tighten, the knowledge that he’s the sole witness to this side of you, so subservient and docile, sets him off the deep end.

Then you angle your head to the side, joining your lips with his. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, but the intimacy of it all causes Jeongguk's last bit of composure to crack.

He spills into you with a groan, the sound muffled by your mouth, as he rocks forward until every last drop of his seed is snug within your warmth.

The feeling of his cum bursting inside of you, length twitching, causes your pussy to flutter by reflex, milking Jeongguk of every ounce of cum, only suspending their contractions once he's thoroughly depleted.

By the end, you're both a heaving mess; chests rising and falling in unison as you come down, the electric current pulsing through your bodies fading into a comfortable hum.

Your skin is still buzzing, head befuddled, when Jeongguk presses a few lazy kisses across your shoulder—as if to ground you, to bring you back from the constellations he's painted behind your eyes.

“You were so good, baby.” He commends, smoothing the hair at the side of your profile and you can't help the soft, but dopey smile that breaks out onto your face then.

“I've been dreaming about that for forever.” You murmur, submitting to the assault of his lips. Your boyfriend chuckles in return, nuzzling your neck as he commits the smell of your skin, an alluring scent of sex and lavender, to his memory.

“Me too,” He hums, thumb gliding gently across the contour of your waist. Your sensitive pussy throbs at the light touch, rousing from the stimulation; which only reminds you of the unpleasant remnants of arousal coating your inner thighs.

As if reading your mind, Jeongguk whispers against your skin. “Let's get you cleaned up, okay?”

He eyes your figure carefully, waiting for any hint of consent before he leaves you here alone.

You manage to muster a nod and then feel his dick slip from your entrance a second later, withdrawing in a way that makes you cringe and leaves you feeling oddly empty.

“I’ll be right back.” He assures, his lips quickly, but comfortingly, brushing against your hairline. Thereafter, from your peripheral, you see Jeongguk detach himself from your side, pulling his pants back up as he disappears into the bathroom to do what he does best—take care of you.

In the meantime, you resist the temptation to slump back onto the sofa, feeling a hefty load of cum leaking down your thighs. Every muscle in your body feels relaxed, those sparks from earlier sizzling down into sleepy, smoky remnants that weigh you down. Mind a dazed mess, not sure of how much time has passed, you almost give in—the slumber you so desperately sought out at the beginning of the night finally settling into your bones—when Jeongguk walks back into the living room. He's changed into a pair of briefs and is carrying a wet cloth, as well as, a small tube of ointment.

Your body instantly perks up, a little rejuvenated by his presence.

“Hey,” Jeongguk murmurs once he's back in your close vicinity, fingers brushing against your cheeks as he peers down at you with a soft smile.

“Hey,” You tiredly grin back, pointing a finger at the items in his hand. “Those for me?”

Jeongguk hums, draping an arm around your waist to steady you. If you had the energy to freshen yourself up, you honestly would but currently, you can barely keep your eyes open. So instead you lean on your boyfriend—figuratively and literally—clutching onto his biceps as he brings the warm cloth to your nether regions. You hiss a little at the contact, still feeling delicate down there, but Jeongguk handles you with a gentle mindfulness that makes your heart swell. Makes you think back to a little over an hour ago, when you were alone in bed unable to fall asleep because he wasn't there.

And sometimes it worries you. How much you need him. How much something as simple and basic as sleep, needs the warmth of his touch to make its mark on you. How much you’ve grown to love him in the span of a few months, your life endlessly orbiting around him like the earth to the sun. How much the deepest crevices of your soul, where the vile fear of abandonment and instinctual desire to run, relinquish themselves to the light of Jeongguk’s unconditional love.

You watch him toss the used washcloth to the side before unscrewing the top of the ointment. Sigh; as his fingers, tender with purpose, apply dabs of vitamin K salve to your hips where the marks from his fingertips are starting to surface. “Shit, I'm so sorry baby.” He apologizes, the raspy, hushed tone of his voice communicating how guilt-ridden he feels. “I didn't mean to be this rough.”

And, you've never known a love like this. One that rustles through your hair like the wind on the drive down to your parents. One that meets you in the dead of winter between classes, wrapped up in coats and scarves, and coffee as the snow falls. One that kisses you goodnight, hands cupping your cheeks while the street lamps flicker outside.

One that dresses all your bruises.

It makes you want to run in the opposite direction every now and then, fleeing until you forget that you ever knew it could be this good, this safe.

But, staring at Jeongguk and the careful, intricate way he's massaging ointment onto all your black-and-blues, you bury these trepidations away, laying them to rest in the one place they belong—the past.

Because yes, you’ve never had this sort of love before—the seriousness, the commitment.

The emptied-out drawers for your clothes.

The spare toothbrush at his place.

The conversations of a future together—the clear line being crossed from fling to forever.

Even though it's a concept so scary and unfamiliar, and foreign to you—you never want to let it go.

You never want to let him go.

3K notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 10 months

Text

Taking Control

(But not really)

Max is a dominant guy, both on and off the track. Sometimes he likes to let Y/N have control. Or, at least, the illusion of control.

Warnings: smut, pwp, bj, sub/dom dynamics, p in v stuff, dominant max

Max's hands sat on her hips, his lips on hers. Y/Ns eyes were shut as she kissed him, her hands on his face, holding him close.

"Wow," she gasped as Max moved his lips down to her neck. His grip on her hips became tighter, bruising. And Y/N was loving every second of it.

She ground her hips against his and Max let out a groan, music to her ears. "Are you going to do all of the work tonight, baby?" He asked, stopping his attack on her neck long enough to look up at her.

Y/N nodded quickly as she went back to kissing Max, sticking her tongue down his throat. It was long before Max had all of the control, his tongue in her mouth as Y/N bit softly. Not a proper bite, not one that would cause any pain.

As Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, Max made quick work of taking of her shirt, leaving her in just her bra.

It was one Max had bought her for a joke for their year long anniversary. A Red Bull bra, with the proper shade of blue and the logos in any available space. "Wow," Max echoed as he stated at it. He loved it and not just because it was hilarious.

"Are we gonna stay on the couch or should we take this to the bedroom?"

"Bedroom, definitely," Max answered as he stood up with Y/N still on his lap. She let out a squeal and hastily wrapped her arms and legs around him.

Max carried her with ease. He was an athlete, after all. Carrying Y/N to the bedroom was no problem for him. He kicked open the door and carried Y/N in.

Rather ungracefully, Max dropped Y/N onto the bed. He crawled on top of her, attaching his lips to hers once again.

"Uh uh," said Y/N as she pulled away from him. "I thought I was doing all of the work tonight."

Grinning, Max lifted himself away from Y/N. He laid down on the bed and placed his hands behind his head, grinning as Y/N climbed on top of him.

She worked to pull off his Red Bull shirt. Always the Red Bull shirt. She let out a giggle as she kissed her way down his chest, leaving dark, purple marks as she went.

Max let out a series of moans as Y/N worked on his belt. Music to her ears, she thought, pulling off his trousers.

Left in nothing but his boxers, Max sat up and wrapped his arms around Y/N and pulled her close.

Her hands on his face she went back to kissing him, feeling him grow hard beneath her. Y/N ground her hips against his, eyes shut as she whined. "I need you," she whispered against his lips.

Before Y/N could pull away to get the rest of their clothes off, Max whispered something in her ear, his lips hot against her ear.

Grinning, Y/N turned herself around. She slid off the bed and pulled off Maxs boxers, letting hid cock spring free.

Y/N knealed at the end of the bed as Max shuffled down. She placed her hands against his hips, holding him still as she kissed the tip, touch light a teasing.

Max smirked when he felt her solid grip on his pelvis. If Y/N thought she had control, she wouldn't for long. It was simply an illusion.

His hand settled on her head, fingers knotting through her hair as she wrapped her lips around him and sucked. Y/N set the pace but Max controlled, dictating whether she wabt faster or slower. "That's it, baby," he said through a shaky breath, eyes closed as he bucked his hips. Y/N gagged around him, her throat constricting deliciously.

Before he could get to close to finishing, Max pulled her away. "Get undressed the rest of the way," he demanded.

Standing, Y/N pulled off her underwear. She stepped out of it and crawled her way up to Max as he curled his finger.

Y/N had no control and she didn't even realise it.

His hands were on his hips as she sank down onto him, eyes shut and head thrown back. Y/N had to sit there for a moment, appreciate how he felt inside of her.

"Wow," she said as she looked down at him beneath her, her hands on his chest.

Y/N began moving, slowly at first. As much as she thought it was all her, dictating the movements and the pace, it was Max with his hands holding her hips.

His grip was bruising as he moved her. "That's it, Schat. So good for me," he grunted, his hips beginning to move beneath her.

"Nah ah, Max," she grinned as she stopped moving. "It's all me, remember?"

A cocky attitude. Max hadn't expected that. He smiled at her as he lifted his hips and moved, properly moved, fucking up into her. Y/N threw her head back as she moaned, feeling every inch of him.

"Oh my god, Max," she moaned, leaning forward, pressing her face against his shoulder.

Max moaned as she bit down, licking and sucking at the skin on his shoulder. The movements of his hips had suddenly slowed, becoming sloppy as he got close. "oh mijn schatje, oh mijn liefste," he whispered against her as he came close.

Y/N let out one last cry, slumping against him as she came.

Max took only a few seconds more, his thrusts suddenly gentle. He let out a series of grunts, picking up the pace of his thrusts as he came.

They laid there for just a moment as Max slipped out. He held her for a moment, kissing her hair as he ran his hand up and down her back. "Let's get you cleaned up, Schat," he said and sat up, Y/N still in his arms.

"You never let me have control, did you?" Shd asked as Max walked with her to the bathroom.

He shook his, a shit-eating grin on his face. "No, mijn liefste, no you didn't."

1K notes · View notes

toxycodone · 3 months

Note

Husband anon is back to tell you about another adventure with the IRL husband that is also just Laios and inspires the writing.

Coming home to him in loose workout shorts and running your hands up his thighs to make him squeal and laugh because he’s so sensitive while you try to nibble and lick his wonderful hairy thighs, him pushing you away complaining that it’s too sensitive while moaning your name. Laios begging for you to switch to his thighs or somewhere else less sensitive only to find out it’s more sensitive and when you finally sink your lips over his cock, he’s hard as a rock and rutting against your head to hope for you to go deeper as your saliva coats all over him and your hand that you use to keep you from gagging yourself.

It starts off totally innocent.

You and Laios get into tickle fights on occasion. It’s not anything super intense, he just likes to mess with you and get you smiling and giggling because he thinks you’re absolutely adorable. Today, he happens to be in his workout outfit. He’s coming home from a hike and smells like grass and sweat.

Laios is just playing around, so he lets you get on top of him in the bed. His shirt rides up a little as he’s beaming up at you. His golden eyes shine with mirth as stifled giggles leave his lips. In order to get him back when he’s tickling you, you decide to blow a couple raspberries on his exposed tummy, slowly moving down to his plush, pale thighs.

As you do that, Laios’s laughs begin to get cut off by gasps, shortly followed by sweet moans. Laios tells you that’s a bit too much. And you can tell what he means by that by the growing bulge in his pants. He’s not asking you to stop, just letting you know the kisses and nips you’re trailing up his groin is going straight to his cock, and now this sweet moment between you two is gonna turn into something else entirely.

You take the cue to link your fingers under the waistband of his pants and boxers. His cock eagerly bounces out, already almost fully hard. Laios looks up at the ceiling and you can see the pink blush starting to spread across his cheeks and down his neck. Every time you give him head, he always gets embarrassed. You’re assuming it’s a mixture of him just not being used to it still, but also the fact that just a little touching can get him so fucking hard for you. It’s actually sweet how enthusiastically his body reacts to you.

As you lean closer to his length and give it a few licks, you can smell the dried sweat, musk, and scents of nature from him being outside today—but it just turns you on even more. Laios lets out a hushed gasp, then shudders as you take him down your throat. After a few bobs of your head you feel his body start to relax, then his hand cradles the back of your head as he guided a you up and down.

He’s always surprisingly gentle as he fucks your throat. Well, at least in the beginning. His moans and whimpers grow louder and louder as you continue. And each time you gag or moan yourself, Laios lets out a loud groan. He can’t help it, the little vibrations travel from your throat down his groin and he just can’t resist.

You take a moment to start gently massaging his hefty balls which makes thighs shake and toes curl. This is where things take a turn. You anchor a hand on his groin to keep Laios from banging the head of his cock against your uvula or another sensitive area of your throat. He starts to get eager now, raising his hips to get you swallowing more of his length as curses leave his slick, slightly parted lips.

Laios then sits up a little and looks down at you. He’s still embarrassed, but he always has to look at you. As usual, Laios’s mind begins to wander. You’re so cute when you suck him off. He pays attention to how you take him. He always wonders if you like the taste. Is it different when he hasn’t washed? He wonders if his cum will taste different from what he ate. Maybe you’ll like it more this time…

And when you make eye contact with him, looking up from beneath your lashes, Laios fucking whimpers. God, you’re so fucking pretty like that. Handsome. Gorgeous. Beautiful. You’re so good to him, the best thing that’s ever happened to him. You’re too fucking good and so fucking perfect—

“I’m gonna cum.”

He chokes out, now gripping your hair and guiding you faster and faster. It only takes a couple more strokes for Laios to blow a fat load down your throat. Thankfully, you’ve become used to his terrible timing and lack of verbal cues during blowjobs. You sorta gracefully take him into your mouth, trying not to choke and swallowing what you can manage.

Laios’s lips are on yours as soon as you’re finished servicing him. He’s always more than eager to taste himself on you and whisper his thanks and tell you just how good you did. You could give the toothiest blowjob in the world and he’d still be over the moon he got to cum within five feet of you.

Afterwards, Laios has the goofiest smile on his face. He hugs you tightly and kisses your cheeks and asks you if you need anything. He always gets you something tasty to drink though. Whether it’s juice from the fridge or just a sip of his half drunk, lukewarm Gatorade on his nightstand. When you suck him off, he’s always a bit concerned about the taste, especially if you do it when he hasn’t washed…

Want him to cook? Maybe take a bath together? He can wash your back…maybe let you sit on the corner and he can return the favor…anything you want to do afterwards is just perfect to him.

#husband anon #suck my ask #laios touden #laios x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #dungeon meshi #reader insert

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macfrog · 10 months

Text

walking through fire | one shot

just something that's been on my mind the last few weeks. i hope that you're all ok going into this difficult time of year. and if there's any part of this, big or small, that you find yourself resonating with - there will always be a warm, cozy chair in my inbox/dms, free for you to come sit, hang; we can talk about everything or nothing at all. love you guys. 🤍

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you’re neck-deep in a bout of seasonal depression. your boyfriend suggests an autumnal walk. (better than most healthcare systems offer amarite)

warnings: quite literally about depression & anxiety so please read at your own discretion. established relationship, fluffy soft!joel takes care of his girl, implied suicidal thoughts, use of medication to treat depression/anxiety, feelings of worthlessness/burdening, but hope! in the end! a wee sliver of hope!

word count: 2.7k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🖤

November turns on itself all too quickly.

Your body feels like lead, sinking deep into the mattress. Like a broken, rusted shipwreck at the bottom of the ocean; your hand lying limp above the bedsheets like a sailor’s last attempt at reaching over the waves for help.

Joel opened the blinds today. Nuzzled into you, the scruff of his beard sharp on your numb skin, and then stood up and slowly unveiled the glaring light of white cloud. You shrunk further into the bed, your hot breath suffocating you under the sheets. Inhaling and exhaling, breathing in your own rotten air.

He pushes the door open and shuffles across to the bed. Your sea dips when he lowers into it, two arms slipping around your waist like a lifebuoy. He pulls you into his chest; his warm body melting the ice of your bones.

“Hey,” he whispers, and drags his nose across your cheek. He kisses your temple, combs his fingers through your hair. Dabs his thumb along your bottom lip and then says again, “Hey, darlin’. You awake?”

Your eyes flutter open, only enough to see the blurry shape of him; the strong curve of his shoulder, the binary of dark cotton and pale skin.

“Hi, baby. How you feelin’ this mornin’?”

The words catch on the dry cliff of your throat, dangling for a few seconds like panicking climbers, before plummeting into the abyss. You settle for an incoherent mumbling, a vibration on your lips that Joel understands through the pad of his thumb.

“Yeah,” he sniffs, “not so good, huh? That’s okay. You know how much I love you?”

And that peels your eyes open a fraction more. Only enough to sharpen the image of him, to find the dark pools of his eyes and the way the flame in them flickers as he says it.

“Love you so much,” he whispers. The tiny fire thaws the very bottom of your heart, even if only enough to keep the blood pushing heavily through your veins.

Your eyes close over again, and you take his shirt in two weak fists, pulling yourself into his body. Your head fits in the crook of his arm, burying into his side.

“You feel like leavin’ the house today?” he asks, voice sweet and earnest. “Just for a little while? We could go for a walk, could go for a drive. Just you ‘n me, sweet girl.”

You shake your head, your eyes prickling from the sincerity of his question. The guilt beginning to creep its way over your shoulders.

“No? You don’t wanna?” He lifts his head, staring out at the view from the window. “’s a nice day out. Cold, but it’s dry, ‘n the leaves are all orange and yellow, just like you like. Not even for a half hour?”

That same guilt – sneering, bullying – pokes a sharp-clawed finger in your ribs until you answer him. “Tired,” you mumble, screwing your eyes shut until you see the sudden, violent assault of stars in your vision.

“I know you’re tired, baby,” Joel says, stroking your back. “But it might do you a little good to get some fresh air. And you’d be with me, and we can come back home whenever you decide.”

Your fear and shame seem to cower beneath his words; melted by the soft timbre of his voice. They retreat inward, burrowing deep between the cage of your ribs, twisting and mangling around your pale bones.

“We can come back whenever?” you whisper, defying their threats.

“Whenever, darlin’. Promise.”

You surrender yourself, letting him take you in his arms and carry you over to your closet, where he sets you down gently. Keeping an arm around your waist, Joel waits patiently as you pick an outfit, and then helps drape it over your frame. You feel more statue than human – solid substance rather than plush flesh. Cold and brittle; the tender touch and lively glow drained from your skin the same way it drains so quickly of energy.

You’ve been fighting for years. Months and months and months of one step at a time and just keep going. Being told you’re more than what’s going on in your brain, being told not to let it become you. But there are days when you stand before the mirror, and you don’t recognize the figure staring back at you. The dark tunnels in place of eyes, the thin line of her lips.

There are days you can see the marks on your skin from how tight your anxiety and depression bind you; wrapping like ivy around your body until there’s nothing left of you to see through the dark green leaves. Just a haggard, shapeless thing. A skeleton too tired to carry the weight of yourself; a heart too weary to beat in time.

There once existed a time you had smiled, even laughed – you know it, you have the lines scored deep into your cheeks to prove it. Sometimes they ache when you think about it, like even they miss the feeling. Joel knows it, too – you sense it whenever he tells some dumb joke, sense that he’s searching your face for the slightest lift, the slightest dip of a dimple. And it fucking kills you, when you realize you have nothing sincere or true to offer him. No swollen cheeks, no flash of teeth. At best, a heavier exhale pushed from your nostrils.

It all feels so long ago, that lighter, fresher, happier you. It feels so far from your clutches. Like you’re drifting further and further from the surface, disappearing into the murky depths of your own mind.

The doctors, the articles, the fucking motivational posts on Instagram all say the same. Keep fighting it. Confront your illness. Prove it wrong. But you’re so fucking tired of fighting. Fighting it the entire drive to work, your heart threatening to burst; fighting it every conversation you have, your façade slowly cracking. Swallowing the panic like you swallow the medication; both of them sticking in your throat and refusing to go down.

There is no fighting it. There is no overcoming through confrontation. If you broke your leg, shattered every bone to dust, would they say the same? You gotta walk on it straight away to make it strong again. You don’t think so.

Joel doesn’t seem to think so, either. Joel, with a heart of molten gold, ready at every turn to let it pour onto your skin and paint it the color of sunlight when you can’t do it yourself. Joel, with his strong arms and wide reach, bundling you up over the top of all that foul ivy and snapping its thick stems with just his fingers.

Joel, who will sit at the edge of your bed and watch you take your meds; kiss your forehead and squeeze you tight when you show him your empty mouth. Joel, who will hold you in the dead of night and tell you stupid stories about his brother when they were kids, rubbing your back and chasing the dark ghosts from your mind.

Joel, who still sees something in you – whether he’s imagining it or not – and decides each day that it’s worth protecting. Worth saving. You’re worth saving, even on the days you don’t believe it yourself.

He drives for ten minutes, a little out of the suburbs and into a thicket of fire-colored leaves and solid, frozen ground. Fall sinks its teeth deep into the roots of the earth, drying up the bloom of summer and replacing it with something harder, something tougher. Nature is dying in the November breeze – the amber leaves painted the color of the trees’ blood as they fight a losing battle against the shifting of time. You feel yourself decaying with it: a drawn-out, painful surrender to the bleak days and dark nights.

Joel keeps his hand on your thigh the entire ride; you keep your fingers intertwined with his. The fluttering in your chest gets quicker and quicker, spreads its wings wider the further you feel from home. Your mouth dries up, forcing you to swallow after every third breath. But his hand stays there, planted on you like the root of an ancient tree: never shifting, no matter how strong the wind throws punches.

A shaky breath falls from your lips when he slows to a halt, the truck parked by a long wooden gate. He cuts the engine and turns to you, squeezing your leg lightly.

“We’re just gonna walk down there,” he nods out the window, “and back again. As slow as you like, ‘n we turn back when?”

“Whenever I want,” you whisper, nodding.

“Whenever you want, darlin’. Just say the word, alright? Sound good?”

You nod, blinking away the strain of tears across your vision. Your knee bounces, the metal buckles on your boots clinking in the footwell.

Joel rubs his thumb against your cheek. Lifts your free hand and places a delicate kiss to your knuckles. “I am so proud of you,” he mumbles against them, like scoring it into the bone.

You fill your cheeks, flattening your lips together, and he pulls on his door handle.

Five paces from the car, you realize how cold it is. The bitter air snaps at your cheeks, drags the salty tears from your eyes. Joel quickly fixes the collar of your jacket and pulls your scarf over your face.

“You bring gloves?” he asks.

Your head shakes in response.

“Here.” He fishes in the pockets of his tan jacket for a dark brown pair, flicking his fingers for you to hold your quivering hands out. He slips them on, all too big for you, and then knots his fingers through yours and leads you on down the sloping backroad.

Bordered by tall trees on either side, you feel secluded and hidden from the rest of the world. It fills you with equal parts comfort and terror: nobody else is here. No one can see your vacant eyes, the wet stain of fallen tears on your cheeks. Not the vice grip you have on your boyfriend or the weak quiver of your voice.

And at the same time: nobody else is here. No people, no sign of life. Just an isolated track, the looming trees overhead, the squelch of muck and the bite of fall for company.

Joel matches your pace, strolling along by your side with your arm through his and his hand resting on top of yours. He catches your glances over your shoulder, sees the jittery movements of your head as you scan the scene around you, and pats the back of your hand tenderly.

“Take a deep breath for me.”

You fill your lungs with a chilly gulp of air, pushing it back out again as steadily as you can.

“And again.”

You repeat the exercise, your chest swelling against your buttoned up coat.

“You’re doin’ great,” he says, looking down at you. “You feelin’ okay?”

“I’m – Yeah, I’m just…” you twist back to search for the wooden gate, “…can’t see the truck anymore.”

“’s right there, promise ya. You wanna go back?”

He pauses, and your boots scuff to a halt on the stony terrain. You chew the inside of your cheek, eyebrows arching to release more tears from between your lashes. “No,” you breathe, “I wanna try to go further.”

“Then let’s try to go further. Yeah?”

You nod, setting off when you realize he’s waiting for you to take the lead.

The fields on either side of you are strung with a thick blanket of mist from one end to the other, masking the trees at the opposite side and obscuring the line between earth and sky. Your body close to Joel’s, your heartbeat attempting to match the steady pace of his, you feel safe, protected. The promise that you can call it a day whenever your body begins to weigh too much, whenever your lungs begin to falter.

Somewhere between the thinning of the hedgerows, another slanted, shabby gate materializes. Its crisscross panels and worn wooden posts separating you from the first company in your twenty-minute walk.

“Joel,” you call, loosening your grip on his arm and wandering over to the long, dewy grass towards a chestnut horse, a sliver of white fur diving deep between her eyes.

She slowly thumps over, huge hooves sinking deep into the soft dirt. Her long tail swishing, navy rug wrapped around her midriff. She docks at the gate, puffing a heavy breath – hot, thick clouds shooting from each nostril.

“Hi,” you say quietly, lifting a floppy-gloved hand for her to sniff. “Joel?” you say again, glancing down at her swollen belly, the low droop of the rug. “I think she might be pregnant.”

She tosses her head up, ears flicking, and nuzzles into the soft material of Joel’s glove. You feel her wrinkled muzzle, the strong, solid bridge of her nose. She blinks slowly; huge, deep brown eyes twinkling in the late-morning light, and you swear she’s trying to communicate something to you.

“Hey, girl,” Joel says, running a careful hand down her mane.

The horse sighs serenely, eyes flitting between the two of you. Her nostrils flare gently, light brown lashes fluttering. You tilt your head, stroking her and letting her teeth graze the sleeve of your jacket. Her bulky head turns to-and-fro, glancing up and down the trail you’re stood on, contently waiting for the passage of time. Enjoying her view from the misty field before it all changes again.

Unexpected and unwelcome, the absence of compression in your chest suddenly makes itself known. Dread spills into your lungs, thick like tar. You turn on your heel and cast Joel one fleeting glance.

He catches it, and without missing a beat, asks, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Is that okay?”

“’s more ‘n okay, baby. You did so good today. Didn’t she?” he asks the horse, who huffs another hot breath. Joel tosses a thumb towards her. “See?”

You step back over to the animal, now preparing to wander back on home, and give her one last tender stroke. She blinks twice, tosses her head a final time, and her broad body turns, thudding off back up the slope.

As he links your arms again, Joel blinks down at you, the corners of his mouth slowly lifting.

“What?” you ask, shyly.

“Look at you,” he says, nudging your shoulder with a glint in his eye. “You’re smilin’.”

Autumn flashes by as Joel drives you home – ginger and bronze and honey and cinnamon blurring into one as you pass them by. You settle back against the headrest, moving with the sway of the truck, your tired fingers tracing blind shapes on Joel’s palm.

Nature is burning. Perhaps dying is too harsh a term. Burning in preparation for the winter, when it will lay dormant and restful. Quiet, save for the crunch of snow beneath your feet. Bland, save for the sparkle of frost on your windowpanes. The droplets of beauty laced through, the little reminders that not all has been lost.

I am burning right now, the earth says, but wait until you see what I can become.

The days will turn to night. The sun will tear the sky to tatters, set the whole thing fucking ablaze, go down in a battle stained in red and orange and deep, dark blue – and she will still return, spilling golden all over the horizon. She always does.

The clouds will cover overhead, dampening the color on earth. The blues will fade to gray, the yellows will undoubtedly pale. And then the sky will clear, when it is ready; the clouds will break in two to let a ribbon of cerulean burst through.

The leaves will fall to the ground and feed the soil; new ones will sprout from buds left in their wake. The ground will thaw, will soften again in time to welcome the push of daisies and burst of heather. The horse will foal, the birds will sing to their babies, the buzz of insects will irritate your ears; the rivers will gush and the trees will sway and you will be okay again.

You will be okay again.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller au #joel miller fluff #the last of us #tlou #tw mental illness #tw depression #tw anxiety

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witchywithwhiskey · 4 months

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Hi! 💙

For your impromptu springtime ask game, I'd love to request Ransom Drysdale with smut prompt 3. “do you want them to hear you being such a slut?”

Thank you in advance! 💙

a scheme on a spring day

pairing: husband!ransom drysdale x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, anal play/butt plug, anal sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, creampie, choking, daddy kink, dirty talk, light degradation, light humiliation, praise kink, light bdsm, orgasm control, pet names (baby, baby girl), aftercare, fluff, light family angst, established relationship

word count: 1,800ish

a/n: hi hi thank you so much for sending in this prompt!! this turned out to be a little more angsty than i anticipated, but sometimes i just wanna smuggle Ransom away from his family and cuddle him—and this was my opportunity to live out that dream!! anyway, i hope you enjoy!! ♡

You knew better than to let your husband convince you to go along with one of his schemes, but Ransom Drysdale had a way of winning you over to his side. In fact, it took shockingly little convincing from Ransom to get you to go along with his idea to make a boring visit with his family more entertaining.

But then, he was your husband, and you trusted him. Besides, you knew you’d get just as much enjoyment from his scheme as he did.

Eventually, anyway.

Still, you couldn’t help but rue the moment you’d given in to Ransom’s idea when you walked into the Thrombey house desperately aware of the plug in your ass that shifted with every step you took.

From an outsider’s perspective, you knew you looked every bit the presentable wife on Ransom’s, wearing a pretty spring sundress with sandals. But you and your husband knew the extra accessory you’d worn, and it gave you just as much of a thrill as you were sure it gave Ransom to know what you were hiding beneath your skirt.

By the time you arrived at the Thrombey estate, you’d already soaked through your panties on the short ride over from the home you shared with Ransom. To make matters worse, you had to make small talk with Linda and Richard while worrying about your arousal dripping down your thighs.

Thankfully, Ransom kept his hand on your lower back, his touch having a steadying effect on you. That is, except when his palm occasionally dropped low to grope your ass, making you shoot him a warning glare when no one was looking.

He ignored you, pretending to play the part of dutiful son and grandson. You were the only one who saw the way he gritted his teeth, making the muscle in his jaw pop, when Richard or Linda gushed over how you’d turned Ransom’s life around. How you’d finally been the one person to set him straight.

No matter how many times you tried to brush off the comments, telling them that Ransom had made himself a respectable man, they persisted. When you could tell it had become too much for Ransom—and you worried over the state of his teeth if he kept grinding them—you politely excused yourself and your husband from the conversation.

Before you could get roped into a sales pitch for Joni’s latest pyramid scheme, Ransom guided you to the back of the house and out onto the porch, though he didn’t stop there. When you set foot in the lush green lawn and turned your face up to the bright spring sunshine, something inside your chest loosened—which only reminded you of the plug wedged deep in your ass.

Ransom paused for only a moment to brush a kiss to your lips, a thank you for getting him away from his parents, and then he grabbed your hand and began tugging you toward the tree line that separated the lawn from the rest of the Thrombey estate.

Behind the house, there were paths that meandered into the forest and Ransom led you down one of these until you were hidden in the trees. There, scattered along the forest floor were hundreds of small purple flowers, sprung up thanks to the spring rains.

You admired the blooms as you walked behind Ransom, your husband picking his way carefully off the path and beneath the shade of a massive tree.

Turning to you, Ransom wrapped you up in his arms and kissed you again, a more thorough plundering of your mouth that had you moaning against his lips. Your knees went weak beneath you, but your husband’s strong arms held you up, your fingers digging into the soft wool of his sweater.

When Ransom pulled away, he didn’t move far, his forehead pressing to yours and his deep breaths ghosting past your lips, making you crave him more.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me, baby,” he murmured, squeezing you in his arms and pressing a quick kiss to your swollen lips. “I think it’s time daddy gives you a little treat for being so good.” Ransom bucked his hips against you so you could feel the bulge in his pants, making you moan again.

“Yes, please, daddy,” you cried, throwing your head back and baring your throat to Ransom’s hungry mouth. His trailed kisses down your neck, grinding his erection against your belly until both of you were desperate with desire.

Then, he turned you around and knelt behind you, pushing your dress up past your hips and baring your ass to him. He pulled your panties down your legs, ducking forward to sink his teeth into the plush softness of your ass, making you squeal loudly.

“Ransom!” you admonished your husband, shooting him a look over your shoulder, though there was no real heat to your tone. Especially not when Ransom licked the bite mark he’d left, wringing a soft whimper from your lips.

“You know I can’t help myself when it comes to your ass, baby,” Ransom said, exactly zero repentance in his tone. You huffed a laugh, but the sound devolved into a low groan when your husband began to play with the plug in your ass, pulling it out and pushing it back in. “You’re such a good girl,” Ransom murmured, pressing kisses to the globes of your ass between his words, “Wearing this pretty little plug for daddy—now it’s time for your reward.”

With that, Ransom eased the plug from your tight hole, tucking it into his pocket while he pulled out a small bottle of lube. He spread more in your ass and on his cock when he pulled it free from his pants. Then he was helping you sit down on his lap, his cock sliding easily into your tightest hole.

You gasped and moaned, feeling Ransom’s cock stretch your ass even more than the plug. But wearing it had prepared you well enough that it didn’t hurt. You only felt the delicious fullness and pleasure of Ransom filling you up, moaning happily when your ass pressed flush against your husband’s thighs.

Ransom leaned back against the tree you sat beneath, pulling you to recline against his chest, making it impossible for you to move. All you could do was sit in your husband’s lap, your ass impaled on his cock, your pussy dripping down between your legs and coating his balls while you enjoyed the warm spring day, the sweet scent of the purple flowers filling your nose and the breeze rustling the trees of the forest.

“Enjoying your treat, baby?” Ransom rumbled in your ear, a little bit of teasing in his tone that made you squirm. Both of you moaned as you shifted and Ransom’s big hands grabbed your thighs, spreading your legs wide open. “Such a filthy little slut, baby girl,” he groaned, cupping your pussy in his palm. You whined, trying to grind against him, but he spanked your cunt instead, making you cry out. “Soaking wet from taking daddy’s cock in your ass when we’re supposed to be spending time with my family.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond because Ransom shoved three of his fingers into your pussy, the intrusion feeling so much more overwhelming with his cock buried in your other hole. You screamed. Your back arching away from Ransom’s chest, your head falling back on his shoulder, and the piercing wail of your pleasure filling your ears and the forest around you.

Quick as lightning, Ransom’s other hand flew to your throat and he squeezed it tightly, cutting off the sound. “You’re going to have to be quiet, baby girl, unless you want them to hear you,” he growled in warning.

But at the same time, Ransom’s fingers began fucking your pussy, plunging sloppily into your cunt, his palm slapping against your clit with every thrust. It was all you could do to shriek and squeal as pleasure consumed you.

“Do you want them to hear you being such a slut?” Ransom taunted you, his words only making you writhe and squirm more on his cock. “Do you want them to find you like this—my cock buried in your sweet ass, my fingers fucking your tight cunt, and you unable to control yourself because you’re such a fucking slut for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, not even knowing if you were agreeing with your husband or simply urging him on. Your pleasure was building, coiling tight in your core, and you knew if he kept up his treatment of your body, you were going to come. “Please, daddy, please can I come?”

“Already, baby girl?” Ransom teased, warmth in his tone. You whined your answer, pressing your throat into his hand and he chuckled. Your husband brushed a kiss to your cheek, fucking you harder with his fingers, grinding his palm against your clit every time they bottomed out in your cunt. “Go ahead, baby, come whenever you want.”

That was all you needed to tip you over the edge. Your screams of pleasure were stifled by Ransom’s hand around your throat, choking you hard enough that your entire being was reduced down to the feeling of his cock in your ass and his fingers in your cunt. Your orgasm was explosive, your body going tight and shaking through wave after wave of ecstasy.

Your husband grunted in your ear, and you knew from the way his cock throbbed in your tight hole that he was spilling himself deep in your body. A pleased smile curved your lips as you sagged back against his chest, letting the warmth of his come fill you with as much satisfaction as your release had.

Heaving a deep groan of relief, Ransom’s body relaxed beneath yours, his arms circling your waist and holding you tight against his body while he pressed butterfly kisses to your cheek, neck and shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was as soft as his kisses, a contrast to the rough way he’d fucked you.

“Thank you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “I needed this today.”

You stroked his arms soothingly and turned your face so you could capture your husband’s lips in a gentle kiss. “I know, Ran,” you whispered when you pulled away. And you did.

You knew how hard it was for Ransom to see his family. No matter how hard he tried, they still only saw him as the black sheep. In fact, marrying you was the only right thing he’d done in their eyes.

It made days at the Thrombey house nearly unbearable, which was why you always went along with Ransom’s schemes to make it enjoyable for both of you. His ideas were often filthy and naughty, but they meant giving your husband the reassurance he needed to get through the day.

So if you had to go along with a scheme on a spring day to help your husband, you were more than happy to do so—especially when it ended with the both of you smiling and content in each other’s arms.

#witchywithwhiskey's springtime fun #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #witchywithwhiskeywork #nicoline1998enilocin #established relationship

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melinoelliones · 1 year

Text

After Hours | Meliodas X Fem Reader

You had just stumbled into the Boar Hat after hours, but I bet the bartender can fix you up a little something.

2.5K Words

MINORS DNI/AGELESS BLOGS DNI/ANTI DC DNI/18+

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, spanking, filling up, masterbation, slight breath play, tears, praise

HI HI! Back with the smut hehe, sorry this was SUPER LATE. I hope the Meliodas lovers enjoy mwah mwah. I just wanna note that...

1. This is selfshippy, reader is a princess of Liones (not Elizabeth). Not beta read.

2. I tried to make sure it was similar to canon Meliodas but I think I may have slipped up a bit. I read it over in his voice so it’s not like SUPER off. We may interpret him differently.

3. I am a NEW WRITER so this may be written weird I APOLOGISE!!

SO ANYWAYS..... have fun

“SORRY GUYS THE BOAR HATS CLOSED, COME BACK TOMORROW”, a familiar voice called out from the bar, their back facing you as they continued polishing glasses.

You had just made your way over from your father, King Batra’s party he had thrown for the Sins as a thank you for another successful mission to protect Liones. Usually you’d just stay home in the palace with your sisters and the others or atleast until it was over, however Meliodas had decided to keep the Boar Hat open and stay there, so you thought, why not surprise him and keep him company?

You sneakily strolled through the tavern, taking a seat at the bar without a word. “I said the Boar Hat is clos~ ah well hello there beautiful” Meliodas gave you a smug grin, peering behind to see you sat across from him.

“Space for one more?” you pouted, your puppy dog eyes were almost impossible for him to resist, “bars closed im afraid….. But I'm sure I can fix you up something real quick”, he caved, flashing you a quick wink before turning back to the alcohol.

Meliodas may have been a terrible cook, horrendous cook even but he could make a killer drink with absolutely anything, he also knew your taste palette particularly well and had yet to fail at coming up with a concoction you’d enjoy. And who could turn down a free drink?

You watched as the captain shook up up a drink for you, showing off along the way with a few bottle flips and tricks, “like what you see?” he joked as you rolled your eyes, attempting to hide your laughter. He was quite the show off sometimes but you adored every last second of it every time.

Placing a single kiss on the rim of the glass, the barkeep slid the dark coloured beverage in front of you. As you took a sip from the spot he kissed you hummed in glee, “oooo it's actually really good, maybe the best one so far”.

“Aye, what kind of barkeep would I be if I couldn’t make my girl the perfect drink huh?” he shrugged, making his way out the bar over to the stools you were sat at.

As you continued to down your glass Meliodas quizzed you on your antics prior to coming over, you answered blindly, blissfully unaware that the man was now directly behind you, your back flush against his chest.

“I did miss you though, there was no chance that I’d stay in the palace till the end when I could come see you” you smiled sweetly to yourself, swirling the left over ice cubes.

“Is that right, what did you miss about me hmm?” he mumbled against your neck, a wave of chills rushing through your body as you realised how close the guy now was to you. A pair of hands roamed freely across your chest, your tight fitted shirt making it easy for them to feel up every inch of it.

“I m~missed your erm jokes”

“Mmhmm what else?” he questioned, slithering one hand down from your chest to your lower stomach, lifting up your skirt in the process. Before you could muster up a response Meliodas ran his fingers along your slit before creating small circles on your clit, the friction from your underwear across it making you yearn for more.

“Hey hey, I asked you a question didn’t I? What else did you miss about me tonight?” he teased, increasing the pressure on your sensitive clit as you cursed beneath your breath.

As you pondered for a second, Meliodas inched your newly damp underwear to the side, sliding your lips apart to reveal how wet you already were. “Well would you look at that” he smirked, using your own precum to ease two fingers into you, “you’re already drenched for me, I haven’t even started yet”.

You yelped softly as he re-asked you the question that had completely slipped your mind, “Go on princess, you missed…..?”.

” I~er missed your umm company?” you winced, lost for answers as he pushed his digits knuckles deep into your soaking cunt before curling them to find the sensitive patch. Your body naturally twitched as he found it, letting him know exactly what to pay attention to.

You melt into his touch, hips rocking into his fingers as he sped up, his palm pressing against your semi-swollen bud adding to the pleasure.

The guy allowed his free hand to make work of your neglected breasts, skimming it under your form-fitted shirt as he kneaded your already hard nipples between his fingers, “Is that right? Did you miss this too? Me feeling you up?”.

You could feel the blood rushing to your lower stomach as he focused on the growing spot inside of you, your hips rolling into his fingers, your moans soft but sloppy due to the overload of stimulation, “Meliodas p~please I-”

“I know I know” he smirked, trailing a few small kisses on the nape of your neck.

“Hold your breath for me okay?”

Doing as told you took in a small breath, the barman deepened the curls of his fingers whilst the other hand twisted your nipples as you squirmed. You clung to your seat, the sound of him sliding in and out of you like music to his ears, “And out” he commanded.

The heat in your stomach was at its peak, you tried to steady your breathing as you could feel yourself reaching the end, “could ya hold your breath again love”.

Taking in another breath you threw your head back against his chest “now cum for me, right here on this stool” he urged, scissoring his digits deeper inside you, his palm swiping against your clit harshly, your muffled whimpers and whines keeping him going.

Your body twisted and turned in the stool as you came, coating his fingers completely as your thighs squeezed together around the guy's hand, yet he kept his pace allowing you to long out every second of your peak. Your chest tightened slightly as you remembered you were holding your breath, “You can breathe now my love” Meliodas chuckled.

Your breathless body fell back against him whilst you caught your breath, his warmth calming you down as he slid out his fingers, “well would you look at that, you did so well. Why dontcha clean these off for me too?” he asked, you could almost hear the smirk on his face as he showed you his fingers, they were almost dripping in your release.

In between breaths you rolled out your tongue, allowing him to slip them into your mouth, “that’s it” he cooed watching you suck yourself off them, your tongue weaving along them taking it all in before he pulled them away. He wanted to be the first to taste your sweet juices but you just looked too perfect with his fingers in your mouth.

You guys stayed as you were for what felt like a few minutes whilst you cooled off, he gave you nothing but sweet kisses before helping you off the bar stool. The alcohol conveniently started to take effect as you hit the ground, your cheeks burning up as you bent yourself over one of the tables in front of you.

Meliodas crept up behind you as you left your exposed ass in the air, your underwear completely doused and on display. You felt his clothed lower half meet yours, his needy cock poking through the layers of fabric separating you both.

Trailing a hand up your trembling thigh he sniggered, “so was that all you missed? Or did you miss my cock in that pretty little cunt of yours hmm?”.

You nodded, grinding back on it as he groaned, he needed to be in you so bad, fucking you sensless over this table, but he had to hold out. “I need you to say it, tell me what the princess wants” he huffed, feeling himself growing against your soiled underwear which was now seeping through his own pants.

“P~Please Meli I need you, please fuck me”

“That's what I like to hear, such a needy princess” he cooed, taking in the sopping sight before him as he slipped your panties down to your ankles. “I’ll fill you up real good okay?” he reassured you whilst sliding down the band of his trousers, you watched as he freed his throbbing cock, biting your lip as you knew what was coming.

He may have been a small guy height wise but he wasn’t lacking in that area by any means, the girth alone always took you by surprise, wondering how your body always managed to accommodate such a thing.

Planting a firm hand on your hip he eased you back, gliding his cock along your slick folds before sliding the tip in. “F~fuck” was all he managed to get out as you inhaled sharply, clawing at the wooden table beneath you, the sheer size of him pushing out all the breath from your body.

“Cmon, you can take it” he assured you, pulling you back onto him, planting himself fully inside you, your walls slowly trying to adjust to it.

“Y~You’re so fucking tight, and so warm” he trembled as you conformed to his size.

You felt the barmans calloused hand travel up the curve of your back to your neck, then across to your jawline. With a slight tug he pulled your head, your needy eyes meeting his as your back arched completely. He placed a single peck on your forgotten lips before helping you back onto the table, “You’re doing so good for me”.

Setting his hands back onto your bare hips he pulled out almost completely before shoving himself back in, making sure to bottom out inside, “s~so big” was all you managed to choke out as he hit your sensitive spot with pure force.

He continued to drive himself in and out of your cunt, each motion being more intense than the last, making sure to hit your sweet spot every time. He knew you both wouldn’t last very long but he was determined to make the most of what y'all had. Hearing your little squeals each time he crashed into you making him crave your words.

“I wanna hear your voice, I need to hear how good I make you feel” Meliodas panted continuing his strides, his balls swiping your swollen bud with each one, he wanted nothing more than for your moans to ring though the empty tavern.

“Oh fuck, FUCK baby please, don’t stop” you desperately cried out as he spanked you, it was almost as if that brought your voice back. The sting adding to the intense wave of pain and pleasure swirling around inside your body, he felt so good but it hurt so bad.

“That's what I wanna hear, cmon now, I wonder how the King would feel knowing that his daughter likes to be fucked like a common whore over a bar table by a little ole Bartender”

“Oh, did you like that? You like being called a whore while I fuck you like this, how unladylike” he grinned as he felt you close around him, so much so that he let out his own moan followed by a few curses.

As you attempted to lift yourself off the table you caught a glimpse of your reflections in the fogged up window, a familiar dark purple mark drawing in your full attention. The man fucking you was no longer your sweet little barkeep, this was the Demon King's first son in all his glory.

You now understood why he was being so vulgar and rough, it's not as if you didn’t love this but you were surprised that your neediness would result in him letting his demon side show.

“See what you do to me? I can’t even keep myself in human form” he sighed jokingly spanking you a second time, watching as a dark red hand mark slowly pulled itself to the surface of your ass whilst you let out all types of profanities.

You could feel you were at your limit, the scales were at a tipping point and you knew it would spill over any second.

“Meli, I’m s~so close”, you choked out between strokes, your walls closing in on his piece as your body gave in.

“Go on, cum on this cock”

That was all the motivation you needed to hear, you felt Meliodas grab one side of the table as you came, your walls tightening causing a temporary halt to his movements, “that's it, paint my cock white”.

Meliodas longed out his thrusts to allow you to enjoy your orgasm, your pussy creaming around him coating his shaft completely.

Before you had time to catch your breath Meliodas plunged into your sensitive core, your knees buckling ever so slightly trying to regain some strength, “cmon you can hold out for me”.

Tears trickled down your heated cheeks as the guy rutted into you mercilessly, all thoughts and words vanishing with each thrust leaving you a whining mess. “You’re doing so good, so fucking good” he grunted, giving you all the praise you deserved.

Only you could treat him like this, the only one who ever made him feel this good, he was in a trance when in you.

His cock twitched inside of you as his grunts filled out the room, he was almost at his breaking point and you knew it. “I c~can’t Meliod-”, “uh uh uh, yes you can”, he hushed you, knowing your tired body would give way at some point.

After a few more clashes with your sweet spot he came, smearing your sore walls with his seed as you constricted around him once again, milking his cock clean into your aching cunt.

The warm liquid was being plugged in by him before he lazily pulled out, “you took everything out of me, good girl”.

You panted as you felt both of your releases ooze out and down your inner thigh, Meli just stood back enjoying watching your body naturally push it out while fixing his pants.

“F~Fuck you look so hot like that, maybe I should fill you up more often. Could be a bit risky though” he joked, using his forefingers to push it back into you.

Meliodas slipped you into his arms from the table, not letting you use any of the little energy you had left in you to move, leaving your underwear at the table's base.

He watched as your tear stained cheeks hit his chest, your eyes struggling to stay open, but you did manage to notice that he was back to his regular self.

“S~Sorry about the mess” you yawned, knowing that everyone would be arriving back to the Boar Hat soon, “Don’t worry about that, let's just get you to bed”, he whispered, planting a simple kiss on your forehead.

His only priority was you, and he knew as long as you were taken care of, everything was fine. He couldn’t care less about the others, so much so that he had failed to mention to you that he may or may not have seen a few sin shaped shadows on the other side of the tavern door moments before you came. But that story would be for another day.

#sds meliodas #nnt meliodas #meliodas #meliodas x reader #meliodas smut #nanatsu no taizai #nanatsu no taizai smut #Seven Deadly Sins #seven deadly sins smut #seven deadly sins x reader #nanatsu no taizai x reader #sds smut #sds x reader #sds meliodas smut #nnt smut #meli noel work's

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esouliie · 2 years

Text

– HAPPY GILMORE

– pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

– synopsis: natasha always looks good, even when she’s dressed like adam sandler.

– warnings: fluff, thigh riding, make out sesh, oral fixation. (18+)

Natasha had always found your fascination with her hair odd. It was nothing special- just a casual red. She’s seen plenty of women on the street with the same colour. Even your best friend, Wanda, had red hair. And yet you were obsessed with just hers.

“Nat!” You call from the living room.

It was 8am on a Saturday- Natasha’s only day off- and she had just finished her morning run. You, too tired and lazy to come, decided to wait on the sofa for the redhead’s return, promising to not fall asleep. But, you did.

Leaving the bedroom, she finds you curled up with Liho, the news playing freely in the background.

“Natasha!” You call again without realising the woman was right next to you.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Natasha leans down to place a kiss to your forehead, stroking the black cat on top of you gently.

“No.” You groan, an arm covering the place she just kissed.

“You promised you wouldn’t fall back asleep.” Natasha snorts as she shoos Liho off your lap. The cat trudges away grudgingly, eyeing the woman as she sits next to you.

You hum, giving up on speaking to your girlfriend, sleep lulling on the edge.

She laughs again.

Peeking slightly, you notice Natasha sat watching the TV. Her beautiful side profile highlighted by the morning sun- all sharp lines and soft skin sit in contrast. Her short hair was damp- the red bleeding into a deep brown. She looked so hot; dressed in a wife beater, a purple sweater wrapped around her waist, and grey shorts, but she didn’t need to know that.

Her ego was big enough already.

“You know, you dress like Adam Sandler.” You announce, catching the woman off guard. She watched you face contort as you try to hold in your laughter.

Unfazed by your joke, she replies, “or Adam Sandler dresses like me.”

With that, you lose it. Hard laughter echos the apartment, drowning out the news anchors above. The last remnants of sleep slipaway.

You sit up, unable to breathe between your laughter.“That’s not the flex you think it is.”

Natasha’s brow twitches, “Whatever.” She turns away from you, attention back on the boring TV.

“Oh, cmon.” You swing a leg over her, placing your full weight on her lap.

You pinch her cheek softly. “It’s just a bit of fun, little baby.”

She swats your hand away, ignoring you.

“Haven’t you heard? Goofy is the new handsome.” You quote from a Sandler movie with a shit eating grin, as you tuck a loose bang behind Natasha’s ear.

She doesn’t swat your hand away this time.

“You know, you’d look good as a brunette.” Her gaze shifts to you.

A quirk in her brow. She could work with this.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you shuffle closer, “like really good. I’m surprised you’ve never done brown before.”

Her arms wrap tighter, your fronts flushed together, lips angled expertly to press against your neck.

“I thought you liked the red.” She whispers, knowing her breath tickles your sensitive skin.

“I fucking love the red!” You reply all breathy. She loves how easily she can affect you. Just a little graze of her lips and you’re a puddle.

Natasha replies by latching on to your neck, soft kisses travelling down and across your collarbone. She takes her time, red marks follow in haste, as she caresses, licks, bites.

Working her way up, teeth graze your jaw. A hand unwinds from your waist and long fingers take ahold of your chin, turning you to meet soft lips. The hot embrace closing in on your tongue, a shared wetness and heavy sighs fill the silence between you both.

Her kisses are intoxicating; the bold scent of her cologne floods your senses. She always smells so fucking good, you cant help but jump her bones. You take ahold of the bottom of the white vest, tugging the material up, revealing her toned abs.

You pull away, sitting to her side, eyes drifting down to look at the sculpted woman beneath you.

“You like, baby?” Her voice comes out husky, a tongue runs across her bottom lip. She’s leaning back, an arm over the back of the sofa, efficiently “man spreading” with you still perched on her knee.

You place a hand where the vest covers skin, fingers dipping underneath the material, grazing against the woman’s under boob. Slowly, you trail down; palm gliding over every curve, every dip of Natasha’s abdomen, until you reach the waistband of her shorts. Boldly, you slide your fingers under the thick material, tips stopping just above the waistband of her boxers.

Natasha lets out a shuddered breath, her heart beat racing as she watches your hand disappear.

“You like, baby?” You copy condescendingly, loving the power trip you’re experiencing right now.

She groans, head resting even more against the sofa. Her hand wraps around your wrist easily, pushing your fingers down till slickness coats them.

You move up and down, then lightly circle her nerves. Her wetness making it’s appearance with each movement.“Listen to you, Tasha. That all for me?”

Before you could slide down to her entrance, her grip on your wrist returns, pulling your hand out of her shorts.

Natasha brings your soaked digits up to your face and you take them in, her essence coating your tongue as you moan lowly at the taste.

With a hand at the back of your neck, she holds you steady. The other manipulating your fingers to slide deeper down your throat. Your eyes flutter shut, as the last of your attitude flies out the window.

Natasha smiles at the sight, “There’s my girl.”

Your fingers leave your mouth as she tugs you forward, lips crashing onto yours. Large hands fix perfectly to your waist, tugging you forward and back. The ache between your legs building as you sigh into the kiss.

“I’m fucking you till I’m bored.”

To which she did.

Hours later, Natasha finally got tired. The woman was constantly complaining about the ache in her jaw as if she wasn’t the one who decided to eat you out until you couldn’t cum anymore.

You roll your eyes at the memory.

The morning sun had turned into the evening sun and the city below buzzed with life. You were both still on the sofa- wrapped in a blanket and in each other’s embrace. Liho had returned- finally able to rest on you- without Natasha disturbing her.

Happy Gilmore played on the TV, and despite your earlier taunts, Natasha was laughing at the screen alongside you.

She had to give it to him. The guy was hilarious.

“Actually, I change my mind.” Your voice gains her attention.

The shit eating grin is back.

“It’s probably best you don’t dye your hair brown.”

Natasha turns her head to the side in confusion.

“You’ll look even more like Adam Sandler.” You point at the screen as the actor checks himself out in the mirror, a comb running through his dark hair.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

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cyber-night · 9 months

Text

A very late chrimis smut. :3

Content Warnings: Dom Reader, sub character, Sub Fyodor, puppy play-ish, leash, collar, things nit to do in a church, this is surprisingly gentle for me, degradation, humiliation let me know if I missed something

You were sitting in church listening to the pastor drone on and on about the birth of christ and the miraculous conception and virgin Mary. While your lovely Fyodor tried to keep himself from trembling. Fyodor had made a slight miscalculation when trying to get you to attend Christmas Eve mass. That mistake being that he said he'd do "anything" to get you to come with him... anything turned out to be a vibrating plug pressed against his prostate and a thin collar and leash beneat his suit.

The leash went under his shirt and down his sleeve easily hidden and hard to notice when you held it you held his hand as well. Fyodor, for the most part, was very good at focusing on the preacher except when you changed the speed of the vibrator. Periodically, you'd raise and lower the speed to make him tense. After the sermon, they started on communion. The part you were most looking forward to and that he was most dreading. You both stand up the leash still in your hand, hidden from view as you held onto his. Just before you both took communion, you turned the vibrator off. When he went to take a sip of wine, you turned it to the highest setting and watched him choke you coo and pat his back as if comforting him. The priest looks at him worriedly, and Fyodor brushes it off his violet eyes, looking at you pathetically. You guide him back to the pew and then turn the vibrator off for the rest of mass.

Once you two were home, it was past midnight. The moment the door shuts, Fyodor looks at you, hopefully. He's so worked up and sensitive. His body is so easy to play with, and you had been tormenting him all throughout midnight mass. He didn't want to have to use his hand to try and pleasure himself tonight, not after he'd been so good for you. He wouldn't say any of that to you, though, his emotions far too private for him to lay bare. So, instead, he tries to say it with his eyes. You know him well enough to read him like a book. "Aww, is my poor puppy needy?" You tease him as you start unbuttoning his shirt. "Don't worry, I have gifts for you, and while I think most should be saved till tomorrow, I think I'll let you unwrap one tonight. How does that sound?" You ask sweetly as you push his shirt open and wrap the leash around your hand several times so you can pull him in for a kiss. His eyes are glazed over, his brain already shutting off after having to work overtime at church to make sure he doesn't make a fool of himself.

You grab a box from under the tree and then guide him up to your bedroom he follows obediently, not that he has a choice with you tugging his leash. Once you have him in your shared bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed watching him with loving eyes. "Puppy, why don't you strip for me?" you say thoughtfully gesturing to his open shirt and his pants. Fyodor nods, his hair falling in his face as he does so, and you watch as he takes the rest of his clothes off, then sinks to his knees between your legs. You then present him with a wrapped box. "For you, my sweet little mutt." He reaches up and takes it.

You can see he's been biting his nails worse than usual. The holidays are usually stressful for him to many people and events going on. You decide not to comment on it now. He holds it, looking up at you, waiting to be told he can open it. "Good boy. Yes, you can open it now." Carefully, Fyodor unwraps the box, choosing to peal the paper off at the seams rather than rip it off. He folds the paper up and sets it to the side before inspecting the box. "Go ahead and open it, Doll." He opens the box to reveal a photo album with a lock. The key rests beneath the book, and he gently unlocks the photo album. The photos in it were pictures of him... him tied up, him trembling, or with his back arched as he came, all of the photos were him in increasingly lewd positions. "All... all of them are of me?" He asks. He knew you took photos of him you had asked and still did before doing so, but he'd never seen them until now. He flips the page and pauses there nestled in-between photos of him in is a photo of you... a professionally done photo of you, a nude photo of you. He flips through the book, slowly looking at himself and pin-ups of you.

You can see his hips idly moving, shifting the plug that's still buried inside him. "Horny, are we?" He snaps his head up to glare at you. "Don't look at me like that. Or I won't fuck you senseless while you flip through that. Now come up here, hands and knees darling." You say as you tug on his leash. He moves up onto the bed, bringing the book and whining as the plug shifts. He gets into position and has the book set in front of him so he can still flip through it. You toy with the plug inside him before removing it and slowly and gently replacing it with your cock. "Ngh- s-so pretty..." He moans softly. "Which one? You or me?" The page he's on has a photo of him on his knees with a dildo in his ass and mouth this was back when you were training away his God awful gag reflux. Next to it though is a picture of you chest exposed and legs spread just enough a piece of silk cloth draped over you. "Personally? I think it's you. You cried so much when we did that." He whimpered as you gently fucked him. "Made such a mess too. Pity you don't gag like that anymore. It made you so pathetic, puppy."

Fyodor shudders his arms, giving out as he collapses beneath your slow and forceful thrusts. His eyes roll back as the angle forces you deeper into him. "Please..." He whines you use the leash to pull him up onto his knees, his back to your chest, so you can bite and suck on his neck. One of his hands reaches behind him to rest on your waist for an attempt at stability. "Such a good boy. Taking it so well for me, mutt." A soft kiss is placed on his jaw. "Is my puppy close?" He whines and leans his head back on your shoulder as his body trembles as he cums untouched. His cute little cock leaking spurts of cum onto the mattress. "Did you like your gifts?" You ask him softly as you lay him down. He looks up at you in confusion. "Gifts? Plural?"

"The book... and the sex." You tease him as you undo his collar so he can rest. He hums in understanding and smiles faintly as he nods. The book and his collar and leash are set aside as he pulls you into his embrace. You kiss him, then whisper. "Merry Christmas, Dove. Rest and I'll clean you up, yeah?" He nods and dozes off slightly, making you smile.

#fyodor bsd #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #sub fyodor #bottom fyodor #sub bsd #Cyber-Write

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separatist-apologist · 3 months

Text

The Sweetest Con

Summary: Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before.

She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Nesta woke with a start to frosted windows and her ankle tied to a bedpost. “CASSIAN!” she screamed, voice hoarse from disuse.

“No need to shout,” he replied, sitting in a leather chair by an unlit fireplace. “I’ve been here the entire time.”

He had his wounded leg propped up on an ottoman. Shirtless, Cassian had on a pair of loose black basketball shorts and a pair of ankle socks, and his thigh was wrapped in a clean, white bandage. A prick of guilt slithered through her that she couldn’t quite banish despite what he’d done in response. Maybe they were even, she reasoned.

Or maybe he was a bastard who’d infiltrated her hidden life and now had her tied to a bed.

“Untie me,” she ordered, heart hammering in her chest.

Cassian cocked his head, dark hair spilling over broad, tattooed shoulders. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” “I’ll kill you,” she snapped.

He laughed. “You could have killed me days ago and you didn’t. You can’t kill me anymore than you can leave me, Nes. You know it.”

Looking up at the ceiling, Nesta reconsidered all her life choices. “Not killing you doesn’t mean I want to be with you.” “I assumed you wanted to be with me when I bent you over the kitchen table,” he deadpanned in response.

“Let me go.”

He shrugged. “Okay. But there’s nowhere to run, Nes.”

“I’m not going—”

“Do me the favor of not lying to me,” he replied.

“Oh? Like you did?” she snapped in frustration. Cassian’s eyes widened ever so slightly, his guilt plain. “When did you decide you weren’t going to kill me?”

“Fuck, Nes, I was never planning to kill you. Ever.”

“Bullshit. Rhys sent you—”

“To keep tabs, that’s all. He wants your sister and she wants to be reunited with you and Elain. I was just watching until it was time to bring you back. I never had orders to kill you.” Nesta didn’t know how much of that she believed, despite the almost pained look on his face.

“And if he called you right now–”

“Christ, Nesta,” Cassian exploded, wincing as he rose to his feet. “Is it that difficult to believe I prefer you alive?”

“It’s difficult to believe you wouldn’t betray me if your boss told you to,” she sneered, heart racing. Nesta knew the truth—knew Cassian was no better than every other man she’d ever been with. They had no loyalty to her, and Cassian would betray her for his friends if they asked. All men did.

Cassian untied the rope against her ankle, leaving Nesta to scramble to her feet, furious with him. She’d prove she was right. “I told the lie.”

Cassian sucked in a sharp breath. “What lie?”

Was he stupid? “The lie, Cassian. It was me—all my idea, my plan, my lie. I told Feyre to blame the murder on Rhys, I told the police it was him. This is all my fault. Does your precious Rhysand know that? Did you?”

Cassian took a breath, and then another. “So?”

Nesta blinked. “What?” “So fucking what, Nesta?” Cassian replied, crossing his arms over his naked chest. “Rhys thinks Feyre told the lie and you know what he’s doing right now?”

Nesta was too afraid to speak, to swallow the pooling saliva in her mouth.

“He’s probably fucking her—”

“Don’t talk about her that way!”

“No one cares about the goddamn lie, Nesta!” Cassian exploded, temper getting the better of him. “Did you think it would change my mind? Your father was a bastard—”

“Don’t talk about him that way, either!” she yelled back, not disagreeing with him. She merely wanted to fight him—if he’d told her his name was Cassian she’d have disagreed with him simply on principle. Nesta wanted to see how far she could push him before he inevitably backed off. Before he realized he wanted a fantasy and the woman beneath was no prize, nothing special. No one worth chasing across the country or obsessing over the way he was.

“He was,” Cassian snarled as he stalked forward. “He would have done the same to you—would have traded you to someone worse if it suited him. What kind of father—”

Nesta slapped him. “Don’t,” she warned him, unable to listen to Cassian defend her.

“Did it feel good to see his body?” Cassian asked her, gaze sharp and lethal. “Did you feel relieved knowing he couldn’t hurt you anymore? Or did you feel guilty, Nesta, that Feyre did the thing you’d always wanted to?”

“You don’t know anything about me,” she whispered, voice trembling.

“I know more than you think. I worked with your father, you forget,” he replied, coming closer still. Close enough she could feel the heat radiating off him. Nesta wanted to press her face against him and tell him everything. The life before her mother died, when her parents made it clear they loved each other first and their daughters second. Realizing the blatant favoritism and how even their attention felt like a curse. The downward spiral when her mother died and the different ways he played them off one another while acting hapless and confused.

And Cassian was right. Nesta did feel relief. And guilt, because what kind of terrible daughter wished her father was dead? What kind of horrible person wished she’d had the strength to do what Feyre had?

Cassian’s callused palm caressed her cheek. “If I had known…I’d have done it for you,” he murmured. “You’re too sweet.” “No one thinks that about me,” Nesta bit back, hating the way tears were gathering against the corner of her eyes.

“No one knows you. Not like me,” he replied, his expression cautiously guarded. This time, when Nesta raised her hand to hit him, Cassian caught her wrist. It wasn’t a bruising hold but it was firm, his eyes flashing with warning.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Cassian breathed, crowding her personal space. “Push away everyone who loves you until you’re alone just to prove you deserve to be alone. The only person who thinks you’re unworthy of love is you, though. Not me, not your friends, and not your sisters, either.”

“What do you know about it?” she whispered, hating the hitch in her voice. Fuck him. Nesta hated him. She hated him for speaking about her insecurities with so much confidence, as if he had the right.

“I know what it's like,” Cassian whispered in response, thumb rubbing a soft, soothing circle against her wrist. “My mom was murdered and my dad…I killed him. Hunted him down, let him see the man he refused to raise and the monster everyone said I’d be. He deserved it.”

Cassian spoke the words with such relish, his eyes bright as he conjured up memories of the past. “Would you do it again?” she asked him, throat dry.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “The only difference, I guess, would be my methods. I was too angry—I didn’t savor his pain. If I could go back, I’d prolong his suffering.”

“I think I’m a bad person,” she whispered, hating the way her body started to shake. “I couldn’t keep them safe. It was Feyre—Feyre who saved us. And she’s still…she’s in danger and I’m here, useless—”

“Don’t,” Cassian interrupted, his expression fierce. “Don’t talk about yourself that way. Not in front of me.”

“Someone should,” she snapped, wrenching her hand from his grasp. “What good is it to pretend otherwise?”

Cassian shook his head. “No one thinks half as harshly about you as you do.”

“I should have—”

“You’re sweet,” Cassian insisted, stepping in front of her as she tried to leave the bedroom. “My sweet Nesta.”

“No one thinks that.”

“No one knows you like I do. Someone told you you were cold and harsh, once, and you’ve never forgotten. But they were wrong about you. Let me be your weapon, Nes. Please.”

“And what do I do, then? Sit at home and—” “You asked me if I’d kill you if Rhys ordered me to?” Cassian began, eyes glittering with something that looked like triumph. “Ask me if I’d kill Rhys if you told me to.”

She just barely got the question out. “Would you?”

“Yes.” Spoken easily, without hesitation. “If you had a sword, I’d kneel and allow you to knight me. If you were a Queen, I’d beg you to make me your General. Your enemies are mine, your banner the only loyalty I know, your command my edict.”

“You like poetry now?” she asked, strangely embarrassed by his declaration.

“I read too, you know,” Cassian told her gently. But Nesta didn’t know that. While he’d been studying her, she’d been largely ignoring anything to do with him that didn’t involve his body laying atop her own.

“You’re a bad man, Cassian,” she murmured, trying one last time. One last test, just to see, at least for now. Maybe there would be another someday, and maybe he’d let her down eventually.

But right then, Nesta saw his determination coupled with his realization he nearly had her. Damn him.

“I never said otherwise,” he murmured, eyes soft. “I’ll be good to you, though.”

“Is this what you call good?”

He grinned. “How long did you know?”

“The minute you walked to my door,” she replied as he stared back at her incredulously. “You look nothing like a cop—”

“A compliment—”

“And also I can google. Do you think I didn’t look you all up years ago?”

“Ferye didn’t,” Cassian said with a smug smile. Nesta bit back the urge to scream a little. Feyre didn’t even google Rhys? It was so like her, to just put it all from her mind and trust that fate would guide her. And Rhys… “Is she safe?”

“Yes,” Cassian said solemnly, and Nesta believed he wouldn’t lie to her. Not about this, anyway. Nesta felt off kilter, unsure what to do or say next. It took her a moment to remember it all—he’d put a cloth over her face filled with chloroform and Gwyn and Em—

“My friends—”

Cassian grimaced. “Mor and Em are fine…well…Em is fine. Mor is…getting what she deserves, I think.”

“And Gwyn?”

“Az took her with him.”

Nesta was going to kill him. “Took her where?”

Cassian’s eyes slid to the floor. “I uh…I’m not sure.”

Nesta punched him hard in the shoulder.

“Ow! I didn’t kidnap her!”

“No, but you brought him to us!”

“Well, shit, Nes, I didn’t know he was gonna get obsessed when she put a gun in his face. Though…now that I think about it…I probably should have known,” Cassian mused, hazel eyes far away. “He’s always been…”

“Cassian, I don’t think you can judge him,” Nesta said, mind racing. Gwyn would be fine…right? “He’s not the…he wouldn’t…he respects the word no, right?”

Cassian’s eyes widened. “Of course. I’m sure he wouldn’t…do that.”

“How sure?”

Cassian’s gaze searched her own, face serious. “If he hurts her, I’ll kill him for you.”

Nesta wasn’t sure she believed that, but his words soothed her a little.

“Besides, from the last update we got, it sounds like she’s giving him a difficult time.”

Nesta was tempted to press him, but Cassian turned and asked if she was ready to go home with a wariness that betrayed how nervous he was. She wasn’t leaving him, though—even if it was a betrayal of her time in witness protection. She was ready to go back to living her actual life, to stop pretending to be Agnes, a woman she hated, and living in a place she loathed.

Rhys knew the truth and he didn’t want them dead for it. And Cassian…a million memories slithered through her mind. He’d cooked with her and done yoga, and—

“Did you kill Tomas?”

“Of course,” he replied easily, tossing a couple things into an open canvas bag. Nesta didn’t know why it mattered, but she crossed the wood floor all the same to fling her arms around his neck.

“Thank you.”

Cassian hugged her back warmly and without hesitation. She felt him inhale the scent of her hair, hand spanning the entirety of her back. “For what? I love killing.”

“Cassian…you know thats fucked up, right?”

He shrugged. “We all have our talents.”

“Take me home, Cassian,” she murmured. Cassian only smiled, lips in her hair.

“Consider it done.”

CASSIAN:

In his wildest dreams, Cassian never expected Nesta to come as easily as she did, in the end. Perched in the passenger seat, Nesta complained about the music he listened to—Divorced Dad Rock, she claimed—the route he took—What is your obsession with backroads—and the way he drove—Get your hand off my knee, Cassian.

With any other woman, in any other circumstance, it would have been a nightmare. He’d have been ready to commit a trail of homicides before he ever reached home, but listening to Nesta settled something restless and wild in Cassian’s chest. After a lifetime of violence, she made him feel safe, somehow.

It didn’t hurt that she had a gun holstered to her thigh and those sharp eyes kept vigil even at night. Nesta didn’t relax until the doors were locked, the curtains drawn, and the closets checked for monsters. Was it him, he wondered, that made her look? Or the life she’d lived before him? Cassian drew up the courage to ask the night before they arrived home, holding Nesta in his arms.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked into her hair, unsure what he’d say if she did.

Nesta snorted. “Of you? No.”

“Then why—”

“Habit,” she replied, reading his mind. “It doesn’t hurt anything though, does it?”

“I just needed to know.”

They fell back into silence, half asleep even as Cassian’s mind whirled. What was Rhys going to say when he came home like this? Maybe he ought to put a ring on Nesta’s finger…just in case.

“Nes?”

She merely hummed in response.

“We should get married.”

There was a very pregnant pause in the dark. “Is there a question in there somewhere?” Nesta finally asked, rolling over so she laid on her back.

“If I ask, you might say no. I’m telling you we’re getting married.”

Nesta leaned up on her elbows while Cassian tried to suppress his grin. If he wasn’t careful, she’d shoot him again. Why did that turn him on?

“You’re telling me?” she repeated, her voice lethally soft. “Do you want to try again? I’ll pretend I never heard you say that.”

“No.”

In that, Cassian was certain. If he gave her the option, it was too risky that Nesta would say no. She’d fight him no matter what, but this way, at least she knew the outcome. He’d take her to the altar kicking and screaming if he had to. But Nesta was going.

“Cassian—”

Cassian had her before she could raise her fist, pinning her beneath him quickly. Using his knee to spread her legs, Cassian settled himself between her thighs before lowering her head.

“Do you imagine a life without me, Nes?”

“Maybe.”

That wounded him, though he was determined not to show it. “Oh? And how do you figure?”

“Maybe I’ll get bored of you,” Nesta said in that flippant, bratty way of hers. The words shot straight to his balls which irritated him. He was never going to win a fight against her if he couldn’t keep his body in check.

“Yeah?” he questioned, teeth tugging roughly at the lobe of her ear. “Do you think I’ll ever be bored of you?”

“Probably,” Nesta said, though there was a breathless quality to her voice. “Maybe you’d prefer someone less difficult.”

“Don’t sound so hopeful, Nes. There will be no one else. For either of us,” he added, just in case she thought he was giving himself some sort of out.

“Cassian—”

“You shot me, remember?” he said, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. He would like a recreation of that moment. Nesta, gun pointed at him, Cassian, helpless. Though, he’d prefer it ended with him fucking her against a wood floor rather than picking a bullet out of his leg.

“And that made you want to marry me?” Nesta asked, fingers brushing the stubble of his cheek.

“No,” he admitted, “though it certainly didn’t hurt anything. The sight of a gun in your hands, I just…fuck. Tomorrow. We’ll get married tomorrow.”

“How do you think we’re going to get married? We don’t have paperwork, a license—”

“I’ll figure it out,” Cassian interrupted.

“Do I have a choice, Cass?”

“You could shoot me again. Run off, if you want. But I’d find you,” he added, just in case there was any doubt. “I’d bring you back.”

“Seems you’ve got it all figured out.”

“I’d like it better if you were excited,” Cassian murmured, kissing just beneath her jaw. “If you said yes.”

“You’d have to ask me a question if you wanted that,” Nesta replied blithely.

Fuck he wanted her.

“Marry me?” he asked, changing his inflection just enough it was a question.

“No.”

Cassian covered her mouth with his own, kissing her with a brutal intensity that left him breathless. Desperate. Of course she said no. She likely had to, couldn’t have said yes even if she wanted to and still it did something for him.

“Marry me, Nesta?” he whispered again, lips inches from her own.

“No,” she said again, though there was a whine to her voice that hadn’t been there before. Cassian kissed again, and again, his tongue stroking her own as his hands began skimming down her sides. How long before she said yes? Would they be fifty years in before Nesta finally admitted she liked being his wife? Three kids, eight grandchildren later?

Cassian ignored his desperate need to hear her say yes in favor of making her want him again. It felt as though it had been a lifetime since he’d last felt her beneath him, but right then he thought if he didn’t touch her, taste her, he’d go mad from wanting. Why was she wearing so much clothing? Nesta was in one of his t-shirts and a pair of underwear, all of which felt criminal right then.

He’d marry her, and then he’d keep her naked in his house, he decided. She could do whatever she wanted so long as she did it without a top. Cassian pulled it off over her head, dislodging the bun of hair she’d set just before they’d fallen asleep.

“I put moisturizer on—”

“I don’t care,” he growled, kissing her again. Fuck her skincare routine, and her pretty hair, and everything else. Cassian liked Nesta when she was fussy because it made undoing her all the more fun. Raking his fingers through her silken hair with one hand, Cassian used the other to palm her large, soft breast. He was painfully erect and making it her problem, grinding himself against her pelvis until he could feel her arousal through the thin fabric of her panties.

“Cassian…” Nesta breathed, arching her neck as he began to drag his mouth down her skin.

“Marry me,” he replied, certain he’d be repeating this well into fucking her.

“Shut up, Cassian,” Nesta replied, just in time for Cassian to lick her nipple. He sucked a little harder than he needed to, groaning when she arched into him. Her hand slid between his legs for his cock, squeezing a warning.

“Do that again,” she whispered, her eyes somehow bright even in the pitch dark. “I dare you.”

“Fuck,” he panted, wishing she’d keep stroking. Nesta released her grip in favor of raking her nails down his back before her palms settled on his shoulders to push him lower.

Cassian settled between her legs, peering up at her in the dark. “Are you going to marry me?”

“I guess it depends how well you do tonight,” she replied, which was an improvement from the outright no of before.

“When have I ever done a bad job?” Cassian asked as he slid the fabric of her white panties to the side. There was something about letting her wear them that turned him on. Like he was doing something he shouldn’t, touching something forbidden. Nesta was a lady—she should have been off-limits.

And there he was, running his bloodstained hands all over her immaculate skin. This was Cassian’s religion, his home—his purpose. How could she not want to marry him when he’d never been more sure of anything in his life? That first taste of her felt holy, and when her legs fell fully open, Cassian truly believed there had to be some sort of higher power.

How else did you explain a woman like Nesta Archeron?

Nesta’s fingers found his hair as he began to lick at her, taking his time in the dark. Where did he have to be? Outside of just returning home and telling Rhys what he’d done, Cassian didn’t need to be anywhere at all—and Rhys could wait, besides.

Rhys would wait.

Cassian took his time, eyes adjusted to the dark as he licked slow circles around her clit. His fingers teased, using the fabric of her underwear to rile her up until Nesta was panting, thighs squeezed tight around his face.

“Cassian—”

“Are you going to marry me?”

“Cassian!” she replied, but he’d pulled away entirely to look at her. He wanted to hear her say yes—it was killing him that she wouldn’t, and if that was the only way he’d get that answer, well…

He’d done worse things than this.

“Cassian, please,” Nesta all but begged, and he couldn’t stand that, either. Maybe it was just his aching cock begging him to get on with things, but Cassian returned his mouth to her pussy, licking faster this time because he wanted to hear her come. He’d missed the sound of her breathy sighs and the way her chest flushed red when she got close. Nesta’s legs trembled, arching and rolling against him in a mimicry of fucking.

He needed to be inside her more than he needed anything else. Cassian pulled her close, wishing he’d sat her on his face so at least she could touch him. That was heaven and hell all at once, the desperate need to taste her and the frantic urge to fuck her.

Cassian pulled back moments before Nesta came, panting roughly as he pulled his cock from his pants. Nesta whined, arching her back so her nipples pointed directly at the ceiling. Fuck.

“Marry me, Nesta.”

“Yes,” she replied, too lost to pleasure to think about fighting him. Cassian was quick to slide his cock into her body, using the pad of his thumb to rub her clit so Nesta came as he was entering her body. He felt her tighten around him, the sensation causing his eyes to roll up into his head. She was so wet—so warm. Cassian laid himself against, letting himself feel the waves of her pleasure against his otherwise still cock—he was too close and he hadn’t done a damn thing.

“No take backs, Nesta,” he whispered against her ear.

“We both knew I was going to say yes,” she replied, eyes fluttering open to look at him. “I just wanted to give you a little hell.”

“I like hell,” Cassian murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. “And I love you.”

Nesta smiled, a sweet smile on her lips. “I know you do.”

If he’d been in his right mind, Cassian might have demanded she say it back. It was very Nesta not to say it, to let him wonder if she meant it. But he knew, as she reached for him, that Nesta felt the same. He didn’t need words—her actions screamed it.

Cassian had pulled himself out and was simply too drunk on the woman beneath him to care about anything else. Especially when her whole body tightened as he reentered her body, drawing a ragged whimper from Cassian’s lips. Somewhere in his head, he thought he heard Nesta asking for more. Maybe that was merely wishful thinking—Cassian couldn’t be sure.

He pumped, though, fingers slipping between their sweat slicked bodies until he found her clit again. He needed to hear her, needed to feel her. He was dangling on a precipice and yet he couldn’t finish, in part, he thought, because he wanted to feel the rhythmic clenching on his cock again.

Nesta came loud enough that if they had neighbors in the hall, they certainly heard her. Assuming, of course, the headboard knocking against the wall hadn’t alerted everyone to what they were up to. Cassian didn’t care, spilling himself right behind her the moment he felt her tighten around him like a vice. His orgasm ripped through him like a bomb, making a fool of him as he panted and pleaded her name.

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

Reality slipped back in like an unwanted house guest, forcing Cassian out of Nesta so she could quickly make her way to the bathroom, complaining about how much he’d come. As if that was a bad thing.

“Cass?” Nesta asked, naked and illuminated by the harsh glow of the bathroom lights. He was once again struck by how beautiful she was. Ethereal, like some kind of angel sent from heaven to shoot him with his own gun.

“Yeah?” he said, eyes on her face though he was looking at her boobs through his periphery.

“Can we…stay…for a day or two? Before we go back? Just us?” she added.

Cassian grinned, beckoning for her to come join him in bed.

“Whatever you want.”

And he meant it. Whatever she wanted.

Forever.

#nessian #it feels so good to be done with this #i have been living in shame over the lack of update #i know i said wednesday but i need to free myself

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