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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months

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blushing birthday

a/n: iihhh! first story in this slutty au! felt like this was a good place to jump off from. and also, i just wanna point this out because i nearly never do and perhaps some people don’t realise it, but if you have a thought, an idea, a wish or request in this au (or any other, my inbox is always open for requests) then feel free to click on my ask button and send it my way ♡

summary: “so, what I was thinking,” you tilted your head, “was that before I go give him his present, you guys could maybe help me prep a little bit, warm me up and stretch out my ass enough to fit his big fat cock. Would you guys like that?”

warnings: various x camgirl!reader, smut, porn au, college au, roommate!bucky barnes, roommate!steve rogers, roommate!curtis everett, ex!ransom drysdale, dilf neighbour!andy barber, reader's porn name is cherry blossom (UrLittleCherry), friends with benefits, happy hippie fun poly vibes, curtis’ birthday, partying, alcohol consumption, kissing, masturbation, impact play, fingering, toys, edging, clothed sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, multiple orgasms, anal, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

word count: 3953

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sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

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The last rays of sunshine for the day streamed in through the half-drawn curtains and cast soft shadows across your form as you sat cross-legged on your mattress.

With your reach outstretched towards your laptop propped up on the chair situated at the foot of your bed, you clicked on the go live button and watched as a countdown appeared on the screen, overlaying your visage staring back at you as your gaze briefly flickered around to check your gear one last time.

Thanks to your three roommates who’d insisted on helping you upgrade your setup, there wasn’t just one, but two cameras pointing directly at you. One angle to catch all of your frame and one zoomed-in to capture a perfect close-up between your legs.

“Hey guys!” a warm smile swiftly dazzled your features as you watched the first few people jump at your notification, “good evening or good–, whatever time of day it is for you.”

The messages in the chat started rolling in, some with usernames you recognised and some you didn’t.

TheFrogo: Hi Cherry! How are you? Have you had a good day so far?

DrownByPussy: Omg you’re finally live! I’ve been hard all day knowing I’d get to see you today.

“Hi Frogo, yeah, I’ve had a pretty good day, but I’m hoping that it might get even better, because I’ve got something pretty fun planned for tonight,” your hands absentmindedly fidgeted along the length of your legs as you spoke, “so, today is a friend of mine’s birthday and–, wait,” you paused and leaned in closer to catch a better look of the scrolling messages, “I haven’t seen you write in the chat yet, but birthday boy, if you’re here, you better log off right now or you’ll ruin your surprise,” you warned, glancing straight into the camera, “I’ll give you five seconds get off,” a pointer finger then kissed each of your digits as you counted down, “five… four… three… two… one,” you squinted a moment longer before a giggle bubbled out, “okay, so now that it’s just us, I can tell you what I’ve got planned,” you switched up your seat, moving your legs to comfortably kneel on the mattress with your frame slightly turned at an angle for you to better see the screen, but retroactively grant everyone a view of the curve of your spine as the line swooped down over your waist and blossomed into the plush of your ass, sinfully on display in the pastel blue, mesh lingerie you wore, “there is one thing in particular that he has just been begging for… any guesses?”

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer: Hmm… is it a particular fantasy? A little bit of roleplay action?

8inchStallion: Threesome?

“Nope. All fun suggestions, but no.”

TittyCokeKingXXX: Is it to bang in public?

Cream314159: How about anal?

“Cream! Yes! You guessed it!” you excitedly threw your hands up in the air, “it is anal that he’s been dreaming about.”

Ddadddy6969: I mean, who can blame him.

ItsBradBtch: Fucking same.

TearinYoBootyUp: Wish it was my birthday today so you’d let me fuck your tight little ass.

“So, what I was thinking,” you tilted your head, “was that before I go give him his present, you guys could maybe help me prep a little bit, warm me up and stretch out my ass enough to fit his big fat cock. Would you guys like that?”

KyleKyleson: Yes!

UrPervyDaddy398: Hell yeah, let’s get you ready to take that monster cock.

Casting a glance out of the nearby window, your eye couldn’t help but catch sight of the neighbouring house. It didn’t look like the divorced dad who resided there was home, though you still nevertheless searched for him. You weren’t completely clueless to his infatuation with you, though it had almost turned into a game, always trying to catch him peeping at you through the windows, or even taking it further by purposely wearing something skimpy when you’d go get the mail or other activities where you would know you’d bump into him. You didn’t judge him to be the type of man to ever really do anything about it, to actually reach out and grasp a wet dream of a girl so much his junior, but the teasing had become too much fun for you to stop, you were too far gone to draw the curtains closed now.

As a quiet jingle sounded from your speakers, indicating that someone had tipped you, your gaze flickered back towards the computer screen.

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer: Is that the underwear set I bought you off your wishlist? You look even more gorgeous in it than I imagined.

“Oh, thanks A,” you let your palms graze down over the thin mesh, feeling your pussy clench as your touch brushed over your nipples poking through the baby blue material, “yeah, it is. It matches the dress I’m planning on wearing tonight, so I thought I’d be cute.”

Call_Me_Sir_844: Turn around, Cherry. Let us see it from the back.

“Yes, sir, of course,” you chuckled lightly before shifting around, purposely arching your back as you glanced over your shoulder.

729AlwaysHard: How is your ass even real?

Like1OfUrFrenchGrls: Damn, that butt is just begging for a spanking.

Raking your touch down your sides, you smirked, “oh, you want me to spank my ass?” before the jingle of a tip echoed from the computer, “alright, baby,” and like a cat, your frame scooped down, gliding on to all fours and sticking your bottom high up in the air, “how many do you think? Let’s say, highest tipper gets to decide, but please, be kind, I still have to be able to dance the night away tonight.”

TittyCokeKingXXX tipped $50 – 10 spanks, with a paddle

BootyLover47 tipped $35 – 4 spanks

MrHansen tipped $100 – 6 spanks

“Thank you guys,” you wiggled playfully for them, “and Mr. Hansen, wow, thank you so much!” you squeaked ecstatically, “well, I guess I better start counting then.”

After each smack your palm landed on your propped-up bottom, the coinciding number rolled off your lips till your ass was tingling and sore for all your viewers to see.

WinterIsCumming: Fuck, just seeing your little pussy through those panties… they’re soaked, aren’t they?

Gliding a hand down between your legs, your fingertips ghosted over the sheer fabric that clung to your core.

“They are, Winter,” you blinked up at the camera, “man, I wish you were here to give me a hand.”

NastyBoi: Show us that pretty little pussy, come on, don’t be shy now.

“You want me to take my underwear off for you? Take them off so that I can really play?”

And with the chimes of tips swiftly ringing in your ears, one of your fingers then hooked in the gusset and carefully peeled it to the side, letting it act as a frame as you momentarily teased them with just a glimpse of your glistening folds, before you slowly slid them off completely.

Eventually, after your slick digits had gotten a chance to warm you up and tease you till you were practically buzzing on both of the camera angles that now displayed you, as it hadn’t taken you very long till you switched to a split screen, both your face frozen in a silent moan and your pretty holes drooling for attention pressed up against one another, side by side on the stream, your fingers then reached for a toy, the pretty glass dildo you had picked out just before the show.

You first popped the toy in your mouth as you flipped around and relaxed back against your pile of pillows. Letting your gaze flicker over the downright filthy comments rolling across the screen, you sucked on the toy for a bit before pulling it out and letting it float down south.

“Fuck,” your eyes fluttered slightly as you rubbed the tip gently against your little rosebud, “oh, that feels so good.”

Cream314159: Yeah, Cherry, tease that little ass like a good slut.

8inchStallion: Fuck, you’re gonna make me blow my load soon if you keep looking like that.

Ddadddy6969: Has your fuck buddy really never had your ass before? Tbh kinda hard to believe considering what a whore you are for all of us. I love your anal shows, they’re always my favourite.

“I know, daddy,” a light giggle tore through your form, “I’m honestly kinda surprised as well, but no, it hasn’t happened yet.”

BongDong420: Wait, are you an anal virgin? Plot twist.

“No, no, I’m not, I love anal,” you sucked in a gentle gasp as you let just the tip of the toy breach your tight opening, “I just haven’t really done it yet with too many different people. Actually, I’ve only done it with one so far, now that I think about it,” you swiftly shook your head and forced your eyes to flicker to the messages to rid your thoughts of your ex.

Call_Me_Sir_844: Please open your mouth, I’m gonna cum!

“Oh, yes, please cum for me, sir,” you answered the comment and then let your lips part wide. As your tongue stuck out as well, a string of saliva soon dripped down as you waited, the spit colliding with your tits and running down your cleavage.

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer tipped $550 – Don’t let yourself cum. Edge yourself so that you can be all drippy and dumb for him like a good little present should be.

Since you and your roommates lived in a residential area too quiet for college ragers, some of the guys Steve and Bucky were on the football team with offered to throw the bash at their fraternity.

Music blared, nearly making the entire house rumble, as you walked around the place, searching for the one of your roommates who the party was in honour of.

Fiddling lightly with the hem of your silky dress as you peeked into the room where a rowdy game of beer pong was afoot, you still felt a little dizzy as desperation soaked through your ruined panties.

Though, as you checked the kitchen, a bulky frame bumped into you, though it wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill frat boy, incapable of watching where they went, it was the very last person you wished to lay your eyes upon.

“Y/n, hey,” the trust fund kid caught your arm before you could slip away.

“Ransom,” you couldn’t help but clench your jaw as you tried to free yourself of his hold, “hello.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight.”

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” you nearly scoffed as you squinted up at him, “it’s my roommate’s birthday party.”

“Right, forgot you moved in with all of them, became just one of the boys…” as a beat of silence fell over him, he let his gaze then rake over your form, lapping up the soft blue material that draped across your curves, “you look good tonight, by the way.”

“I–…” your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a sigh, “Ransom, can we not? Just for tonight, can we not do all of this? Just let me be here, celebrate my friend, and then after that, if you so wish, we can get back to our regularly scheduled program. Just one night of peace, that’s all I’m asking for.”

His dark brows then furrowed as he cocked his head, “babe, come on–”

Cutting him off with a scoff, you spat, “I haven’t been your babe since you broke up with me.”

He had been all for landing a girl that was essentially a wet dream come true when it came to all of the sinful areas you were itching to explore with him, but what hadn’t been a part of his plans was having a girlfriend who wasn’t exclusively a slut for him and him alone. He’d told you to choose between him and your dirty little hobby, but to his surprise, you hadn’t even hesitated when you didn’t choose him.

A low sigh then puffed from his lungs, “fine.”

Heatedly ripping your arm free, you echoed, “fine,” before turning on your heel and exiting the kitchen.

Luckily, your search didn’t drag on too much further before you stumbled upon your celebrated friend.

“There you are!” you exclaimed, your voice ushering Curtis’ head to twist in your direction, his glance shifting from the pool table before him.

“Baby!” he swiftly threw open his inked arms and pulled you close, “hey!”

Hearing the heavy balls clank around on the table, you asked, “are you in the middle of a game or could I steal you away for a sec?”

“Nah, not this round,” he withdrew only ever so slightly, letting one of his arms stay draped over your shoulders, “what do you need?”

Pulling him with you in the direction of the wide staircase, you smirked, “I just have a present to give you…”

“Another one?” he blinked as you dragged him up the steps.

“Well, you deserve the world, so yes, you get another one this year,” you offered him a warm smile.

“Man,” he exhaled as you reached the upper level, “happy birthday to me,” a smirk spread across his features as he willingly let you push him into one of the rooms.

It was a study room filled with long communal desks, tall bookcases and velvet armchairs. It was also, thankfully, vacant of any other partygoers.

“Happy birthday, Curtis,” you didn’t waste any time, the door barely managed to slam behind you, before you yanked him in for a kiss.

It took him a second before he caught up with your sudden actions, but as soon as he did, a gentle giggle rumbled from his intoxicated form and vibrated against your lips as he enveloped his long arms around your frame.

Feet shuffling, your roommate soon bumped into one of the tables, lending him to half sit on it as you let your touch rake down his figure. Even with the swift and determined pace your desperation drove you to have, it still didn’t take that long for Curtis to be on the same page as you, and when your palm fluttered down to cup him through his pants, the tent twitched beneath your touch.

At first, when you then withdrew from the kiss, Curtis instinctively followed your disappearing lips till he noticed your knees buckling as you sank down onto the floor.

“This is so much better than losing at pool,” he gazed down at you between his thighs, nearly hypnotised as you tugged at his zipper.

“I’d sure hope so,” you nearly scoffed as you freed him of his binds, not hesitating to lean in and swipe your tongue silkily against the very tip of him as soon as you had the chance, “although, you know I never mind being a consolation prize.”

“Consolation prize?” his tone filtered through a soft groan as your fist enclosed around his base, twisting slightly as it jerked up to graze your mouth, “that’s not what you were last week.”

“Yeah, but that was different,” your giggle vibrated against him, “it’s okay, baby. Maybe next time we play at home you’ll get to win and show the others who’s boss,” you purred before your lips enveloped fully around his fat girth.

When spit and slobber soon bubbled out and dripped down onto your chest from your efforts, you got back up to your feet. As you let the back of your palm wipe a bit of the mess from your chin, you twisted your frame around and let your spine melt back against this broad chest.

As you felt Curtis’ fingers dig into your dress and hike it up, you rolled your hips back against him, nearly dizzy with want. Gliding a hand down between your thighs, you captured the sodden material, utterly ruined and clinging to your core, before you yanked it to the side, the leaky mess not yet ready to let go of the panties and spiderwebbing to where you pulled it to the side.

Reaching around, your grip captured his cock once again as you tilted him to teasingly brush through your folds, your activities from earlier made it almost pathetic how sloppy you got him in a matter of seconds.

As his lips pressed to your cheek in a hot kiss, you glanced over your shoulder to catch his eye and take in his reaction.

You didn’t warn him, nor say anything at all. Only a smirk glimmered on your lips as a forewarning before you led him away from the leaky entrance he naturally assumed you’d let him into, and instead arched your back and eased his slicked-up length into somewhere else.

“Oh–, holy shit,” his eyes flickered down to affirm what you were doing before blinking up at you in the assumption that it was a mistake, “baby, you’re–”

“I know,” you smiled at the way his chest heaved at the realisation.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Told you I had another present for you,” your gloating grin softened at the moan that slipped out as you sank down just a little further upon his dick.

His fingers dented both sides of your hips as you slowly let him feel more of you, “oh my god, you’re the fucking best…”

It was shallow at first, gentle as you controlled the pace, though still mind-meltingly intense as you fucked back against him till your knees began to wobble, feeling each and every little detail of his stretch your little ass out.

You felt his hot breath on the side of your face between the lazy pecks he planted there and occasionally veering further south to try and mark your neck up with his bites.

“O-oh, fuck,” you whimpered when one of his inked arms snaked around to your front and stretched down to rub your clit, swollen and throbbing between the pads of his rough fingers.

Since you’d backed away from the edge not too long before, its overwhelming return was swift and quickly rendered you a shivering mess in his arms as your rhythm came to a rest and the tight circles he drew over your puffy pearl pushed you into insanity.

Eyes still shut as you were panting for breath, you felt Curtis pluck up your chin and tilt it so that his lips could seize yours.

Though the blissful pause didn’t last very long before he manoeuvred you around, manhandling you into a new configuration, though all the while never slipping his cock out.

His palm was heavy against your back as he whirled you around and bent you over the table. Cheek smooshed against the smooth wooden surface, the thunderous snap his hips then offered caused the desk to rattle beneath you.

However, just as you sensed him begin to lose himself, burying his cock so deep inside of you that it caused you to see stars, the creaking sound of the door to the study swinging open sliced through the lewd harmonies already filling the room.

Even though you couldn’t really glance over your shoulder to see who it was that entered, the recognisable voices that then found your ears calmed your worries about why Curtis’ pace for some reason hadn’t slowed down in the slightest.

“No, I’m not kidding, that’s really what–, oh,” Bucky’s sentence paused as soon he spotted you, “hello you two.”

You attempted to tilt your head against the table as the last of your roommates came into view, shut the door behind them and stepped closer.

As you reached out a wobbly hand to grasp Steve’s, he sweetly caught it in his and chuckled at your cock drunk visage, “hey.”

“Hmm–, hi…” you attempted to greet them, Bucky swiftly bending down to briefly be at your height, letting his fingers brush some of your hair out of your face as Curtis’ efforts jolted your frame against the table at every feverish thrust.

“Was wondering where you guys were,” Steve held onto your hand a little longer as his glance met the blissful gaze of the man who was balls deep inside of you, “I thought she already gave you her little present.”

“You knew?” Curtis tilted his chin, to which you tried to explain with a mumble, though one of your roommates didn’t hesitate to playfully ask you to clarify.

“I’m sorry what was that? You’re being too much of whore right now for me to understand you,” Bucky pressed a peck to your brow before straightening back up, “look, I would have totally told you man, but she threatened us not to ruin the surprise.”

“Yeah, said that if you didn’t get to take a dip first, then none of us ever would,” Steve added.

“Aw,” you felt Curtis kneed your bottom as he slammed into you, “you’d really have done that?”

“I did say you deserve the world, so yeah,” you managed to squeak.

“It’s so cute how sappy birthdays make you,” Bucky smirked, “such a shame not one of us even hesitates to exploit it.”

As one hand stayed glued to the curve of your ass, his thumb hooked in your underwear to grant not only him but the rest a perfect view of just how well you took him, Curtis’ other hand then stretched out to grasp the half-empty beer that Steve handed him, briefly taking a swig before handing it back.

“Yeah, she really is just such a good little girl, aren’t you?” Steve found a seat on one of the nearby chairs.

“Mhm…” you barely caught sight of how both of them palmed themselves for an ounce of relief.

Sitting down as well, Bucky squinted cockily back at you as your hazy eyes briefly caught his, “what was that, sweetheart?”

“I’m a–,” you blubbered as Curtis’ cock stretched you so wide that you even felt it press against the sweet spots in your throbbing pussy, “I’m a g-good girl–”

“Yes, you are, baby, that’s right,” Curtis chuckled warmly behind you before offering your ass a swift slap, “the fucking best.”

“Oh, oh! She’s so close to cumming, I can see it!” Bucky exclaimed in an almost mocking tone as your eyes began to roll, “just look at that face,” he nearly jumped to get closer, “so fucking pretty.”

“Come on, Y/n,” Steve leaned back in his seat and squeezed his hard-on as he stared at your fucked out form, “give us a good show. Make it good for the birthday boy.”

Although, unfortunately, you were already too far gone by then to take any of their lewd comments into account as you tumbled over the edge, floating in the sea of your cheering roommates as a soundtrack.

After your friend had emptied himself into your haven, he simply slid your panties back into place so that his cum could leak out of you for the rest of the party and ruin your sheer underwear completely, perhaps even give up entirely and run down your shaky legs for all to see.

Bending down to smother you back to life with kisses, you also felt Curtis’ arms tangle around you as he hugged you and slowly lifted you off of the table.

“You wanna go down and dance?” his low timbre tickled the shell of your ear.

“Just give me a second,” you breathed through your hazy smile as you fought to blink your eyes back open, “my legs will first have to start working again. Maybe you could take over the music for a second and queue up something slow,” you light-heartedly suggested with an airy chuckle.

“Don’t you worry, baby,” Bucky smirked from across the table, “we’ll help keep you upright.”

#lea’s writing #sugar and spice au #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers smut #curtis everett smut #chris evans smut #sebastian stan smut #andy barber smut #ransom drysdale smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett au #steve rogers series #bucky barnes series #chris evans x reader

1K notes · View notes

bi-writes · 7 months

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so idk where i got this idea but mercenary!ghost x fem!reader because he's scary and mean and dangerous but then he sees some girl's ass in light blue denim.

notes about reader: as always, i tend to write readers described as curvy because im curvy and we deserve attention from 6'4 beefcakes who are soft only for us. reader is a civilian.

mercenary!ghost (part 1/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dark!ghost, mentions of ghost's past canon trauma (domestic abuse + violence), mw3 spoilers, violence and gore + mentions of murder and extortion, mentions of reader + domestic abuse, protective!simon, size kink (reader is described as much smaller than simon, easily manhandled by him), pet names (luv, bunny + rabbit, puppy, angel face), reader learns she has a dark side and she likes it, nsfw thoughts about reader, suggestive touching (fem!receiving)

the sound of the burner phone pings on the desk in front of him. when he picks it up, he narrows his eyes as he reads the message displayed across the screen.

DEPOSITED.

when he opens his laptop, his eyes scan over the balance on an offshore account, and he relaxes when he sees the hefty balance climb just a little higher. he closes the device once he's satisfied with what he sees; and like always, he tastes the warmth of that satisfaction. it's a nice high, but it won't last, and then he'll need to feed the gaping hole that lives in him.

it remains hungry. he has never been able to close it--it has only ever gotten wider, ripped at the seams and torn at the edges every time another body close to him drops.

the high is poison. but even if it kills him, no one will miss him. so he picks up the handgun that lays haphazard on the bed, and he tucks it into the back of his jeans.

he passes by the mirror as he fits a dark denim jacket over his shoulders. he stares back at himself, a recognizable beast of a man staring right back. he pulls his hoodie up over him, and in the shadow of it, all he can see are his dark eyes, pale skin peeking through the eyeblack that has lightened up with the wear of it throughout the day.

he craves something strong and warm tonight. he itches for something soft, too, something that makes him forget the red on his ledger, even if for only a few hours.

there is nothing quite strong enough to wipe that kind of stain away. he is nothing if not a reaper, and he buries bodies with the same tenacity that he had when he wore his country's flag on his chest. this time, however, he does not take orders--he names his price.

he thinks something is wrong with him. some used to say that it was his courage that brought him back from the dead--that his heart is too strong, his will to live too much, and that is how he continues to open his eyes and live another day. but he doesn't agree with this thought, because he doesn't really think he feels anything at all.

he doesn't feel human. he doesn't feel alive. the only thing that makes him feel any sort of vulnerability is how red his own blood is when he bleeds. when his scars heal jagged and crooked, it is because there is something underneath the skin. but he feels nothing inside--no remorse, no guilt, he is not sorry.

he does not check to see if those men are innocent. he does not care about the names that end up on his list. he doesn't ask questions. and he thinks something is wrong with him because he sleeps at night just fine now; the nightmares have gone. he is alone, and it is peaceful.

there are no voices. there is only silence. and there is something wrong with him.

the pub is quiet. it is a weekday, and the only patrons are here after a long day's work, and they all look into the depths of their half-empty glasses hoping to find relief there. there is none, but they will finish their glasses hoping it might be dissolved in the alcohol.

he asks for two fingers of bourbon. it stings when it goes down, but then it settles warm. he is poured another two fingers of it, but before he can pick it up, someone else grips the glass and tips it back to swallow it down.

the glass hits the wood of the counter with an echoing thud, and you cough out a fuck as you settle into the seat beside him. you run a trembling hand over your face, and he notices immediately the red of your knuckles and the splitting of the skin there. they are fresh; the bruising is still new, and the blood is just barely beginning run down the back of your hand.

he leans over the bar, swiping the whole bottle of bourbon, and he silently pours more into the glass, hitting it towards you before picking up a new glass and filling it generously.

"who's the lucky bastard?" he asks, and your eyes flick to the cuts on the back of your hand before going back to the dark swirling colors of the drink.

"i'm sure he'll be coming in here any second to introduce himself."

the pub doors slam open, and there is a man coming in, chest heaving, dark hair falling over his forehead in sweaty curls that do nothing to hide the clear bruise on his face the split of his lip. his eyes move over the room before they settle on you, and his boots fall heavy as he makes his way over.

ghost sees his intentions clear immediately. the way his hand twitches at his side, the angry glare, the uncontrollable urge to hurt and to take and to control coming off of him like steam.

he has seen this kind of man before. this man was the one that kept him up at night as a child. this man was the one that scared his mum, that drove his brother to chase vices, that tore apart a house that should've been filled with something warm and sticky and kind into one marred with teeth, rotten and putrid and forgotten.

his hand goes for the back of your neck, and you close your eyes and tense in the anticipation, but it never comes. a strong hand grips his outstretched one, and the man cries out as ghost twists it behind his back and uses his other hand to slam his face into the wood of the bar, trapping him there.

the bartender does not even flinch, just continues to wipe down glasses. the patrons continue to stare into the abyss of their sorrow.

you jump a little, your head snapping to the side where the man squirms and sputters, his face going pale from the paw of a hand gripping him by the back of the neck and shoving his face into the counter. if he pushes any harder, you wonder if it'd splinter and fray, dig into the bones of his bruised cheek.

"this man botherin' ya, yeah?"

your eyes finally flick up. you do not know what you expect, but it isn't this. you can only see his eyes; they scare you. you do not lie because you aren't entirely sure how far his kindness will go.

"yes," you whisper, and when the man tries to spit at you, a rough gloved hand grips his curls and positions his head against the edge of the counter, forcing his mouth open until the top row of his teeth bite the wood.

"y'keep talkin' to her, n'it'll be the last time you talk, hear that, mate? y'talk to me, n'me only."

you swallow hard, and the man trembles. a strong boot hits the back of his knees, and then he's crumbling to the ground, his jaw straining as the counter is still forced against his mouth. hot, pained tears come down his face, and then he addresses you.

"what did he do?"

"bad first date," is all you can manage to sputter. he grips the man by the scruff of his neck before pulling him off to speak, tilting his head to the side as he observes the begging man on his knees.

"y'try to put your hands on'er?"

"i-it wasn't...like that! i-it was just a mis...a misunderstanding, please! please--please tell him--!"

"don't like fuckin' liars either," is the only warning given before his mouth is forced to bite the counter, and then a sharp elbow comes down on his head. you jump in surprise at the suddenness of it all, and you close your eyes when you hear the crunch of teeth being broken. his scream is enough to rattle the pub, but when you look around, it's as if nothing at all has happened. it is quiet, and all the bartender does is shake their head.

when you open your eyes, he's crawling on his hands and knees out of the pub, and what he leaves behind is a mess of blood and teeth and fluid that are splattered against the floor at your feet. you shake as you look up at him, stiff in your seat and soft tears coming down your face.

he towers over you. you have to tilt your head back between your shoulders to look at him face-to-face. you cannot see his face; he hides it behind dark fabric, but his eyes talk loud. they are dark, and they are dull, and you realize as you stare up at him that he is not phased in the slightest by what he had just done. in fact, he steps into your space, and the squelch of blood under his boot doesn't seem to bother him. he wears black, and you wonder, momentarily, if he wears such a color to hide the red hiding between the threads of the fabric. the red he can't wash away.

"let me look at ya, little rabbit."

you flinch when he knocks your knees apart, spreading them to make space for the width of him. he reaches up with one gloved hand and grips your chin, tilting your head to either side to see if you are hurt anywhere but your hand. when he is satisfied with his observations, he cups the expanse of your throat, smoothing those big fingers along the pulsing vein there and feeling the way you swallow.

so alive. so soft. a pretty little bunny, dropped into his waiting hands.

his eyes fall, and he takes you in. wide hips that take up the seat you're sitting in, hugged so nicely by light blue denim jeans. they curve over the swell of your ass, and he wonders how much of it would fit in his palm--he thinks about how it might feel to spread them apart and taste the succulent sweetness that he knows exists between your thighs and how your mouth might look slack jawed and wide open for him.

you look like a good girl, even with bloody knuckles.

then he follows the line of your shirt. it's a simple t-shirt tucked into your jeans, but the neckline gives a nice peek of you and the curve of your tits--they sit so nicely there, all perky, and ghost thinks they look lonely. they would be better off in his mouth or squeezing his cock between them or pebbling between his dirty gloved fingers.

filthy. disgusting. he is scarred all over, and you look so soft and sweet, with those tender puppy eyes and the way your lips tremble, and he bets you kiss all soft and slippery. he bets your cunt is tight and with enough coaxing, he could make you drench his skin with something decadent and slick, with whatever drools into your panties. he imagines it is there now, even as you tremble and shake and plead with your eyes for him to let go of your throat.

but ghost is not a good man. he does not feel; he is not a man at all. he is a beast in the shape of one, disguised, and he brings misery to everything he touches. he knows he will do it to you, too--touching pretty girls, he leaves them with burns. they are not the same after they are with him, and he wants to feel bad about it, he wants to feel something, but he does not. he feels nothing.

"you olright, luv?"

you nod frantically, putting a hand over his wrist that holds you, and he almost laughs. your hand is so much smaller than his own. if he squeezes his hand just a little harder, he figures it would not take much to break what lies beneath it. he leans in, and you gulp when your thighs trap his hips. he is warm, a furnace that burns, but you relax when the side of his mask nuzzles against your face.

he is a dog, and he is fond of you.

you should run. you should hit him like you hit your wretched date, and you should run, far, away from him, swear off men for good and never allow one in your space again lest they be as beastly as this. you should run while you can, but you are a bunny not yet in his trap, and you still have time to escape.

but then both of your eyes open at the same time, and his eyes meet your own, and then--oh.

the cage snaps shut. it rattles around you. it is small and confined, but you don't realize what it is yet because you can still breathe, and it is still warm, and you are still soft and alive and here.

your face softens, and his eyes flicker down to your lips as you lick them. maybe he was right. liars are bad. men like the one you were with before were scum. you had been with men like that before, you had seen the destruction they brought to those they thought they loved. when they wrought fear and made others bleed, they never got in trouble. no one cared to do to them what they deserved because they silenced their lambs and slaughtered the light out of them.

it is biblical--an eye for an eye. if they take from you, why can't you take from them?

it is brutish men like this one that do what others are too timid to. your thighs close around his hips, and you feel something digging into your leg, something metal and heavy tucked into his jeans. a weapon, but you imagine it is a mercy because you have an inkling that what he does with his hands is so much worse. bullets are clean and fast; his hands are not.

johnny would tell him to let you go. he does, over his shoulder, spitting at him to leave, to let you slip through his fingers and find your way out, to open the cage.

the wee lass--look at 'er angel face. let 'er go--not meant for this, LT. she scares. 's in 'er eyes. won't last.

but he does not feel. he is not human. there is something wrong with him, he knows it, but he doesn't care. he will ruin you, and he should feel bad, but he can't, he doesn't. and then there it is--your eyes are flickering low, eyeing the mask, and you are wondering how much effort it would take to push it up and lick into his mouth, taste him, suck the warmth of the bourbon from his mouth and replace it with your own.

he will kill again. the cage is shut, it is locked, and he is watching the bunny in its cage, watching as it becomes aware of its surroundings, takes in what is new. but just like he figures, just like he knows, this little bunny has no idea what this cage is. she has no idea she is even in one.

fuck what johnny says. if johnny was like him, if he was not skin and bone but steel and reptile, he would not have died. he would have come back. he would have moved his head, shaken the blood off, and gotten back up, but he didn't, and he's not here, and he's not real--so fuck what he thinks, fuck what he says, fuck him because he left me, and i'm all alone, and if i don't devour and eat and tear apart, i will wither away because i am not me, i am something else--

he smiles under the mask. you notice it, the slight movement there, and you smile, too, suddenly. his hand falls, and the back of his knuckles graze over the swell of your breast, down your stomach, and then he's gripping your waist. that hand slips behind you, and you brace yourself with both hands on his chest as he cups one side of your ass. possessive and suffocating--you think maybe you should run again, but you don't want to.

you want something more. you want something a little rough, something a little sharp. you want something to tell you that a little blood is good sometimes. that answering blood with a little more blood was exactly how it should be. that we don't have to be docile, to back down. you want to be told that it's okay to bite.

there is something wrong with you.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #dark!ghost #dark!simon riley #dark!simon

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xuhuihuis · 5 months

Text

And Stretch | Xu Minghao

warnings: mirror sex, dry humping, unprotected sex, praising, degradation

synopsis: After many attempts of trying to get a space with the top yoga teacher of the town you finally get your chance. There is much more of a bond between you both when it's just you both in the room...

@jenoslutie thank you for everything you have done 😭 that sexy mind of yours is insane

It wasn’t often that you got to have a private session with your yoga instructor. Minghao, as he was one of the top yoga teachers in the city. All you had to rely on while waiting for an independent session were the group sessions he offered weekly, but still, they filled up quickly. You sat there with your laptop at 7:30 p.m. to book in before it was too late. All of this was for a good reason; in addition to being a great teacher, he was beautiful. He was tall, mysterious, and had the most beautiful, lean arms.

During his classes, he made sure to give each and every one of you personal attention, but it was much more intense and personal when you got to have a one-on-one session with Minghao. You tried your best not to drift off and fantasise while in class, but it was so hard when he was this handsome. You sat there, trying your best to listen to him describe the next position, but your eyes trailed down his beautiful neck to his toned arms out on full display.

You mentally kicked yourself for that, considering you were behind the rest of the class now, and Minghao could now clearly see you in the crowd of bodies. He silently looked over his shoulder to double-check that you were okay. Shortly after the class ended, you very hastily gathered up your stuff to be out of there as quickly as possible. Is your chance at a private session gone all because of you? Does he now hate you? Your mind was full of possible scenarios with your yoga instructor on the way home. Regretting everything that happened in the class and mentally cursing yourself for screwing up this bad.

Silence. Finally, Sitting there, basking in the feeling of finally being able to do nothing and feeling no emotions at the same time before swiftly picking up your bag and heading back inside. The orange of the sunset flooded through your windows, bouncing off of the walls as you walked back to your room to shower. The silence of your house contrasted with the rush of thoughts and adrenaline, though your body created one deadly mix.

Clicking the shower on and then stripping off your clothes one by one, trying your best to think about anything other than him. In the past, you have tried other yoga teachers, but none are as good as Minghao; he really is a master at work. You had to spend most of your shower fighting off the thoughts of what it would be like to have Minghao’s hands all over your body, rubbing the soap into your body. Taking his time teasing you just to laugh at you being so needy for him.

Surprisingly, the rest of the night went calmly as you had the chance to distract yourself from your thoughts with other things. Sinking down into your couch with dinner in one hand and your laptop in the other, searching for something to watch. But it wasn't until you were halfway through eating your meal that you got a notification on your laptop.

One free-space, private session with Xu Minghao

Nothing could describe the look on your face nor the way you jumped to book into the one space. Finally your time has come but at what cost? What will he say when he sees you walk through those doors the next again day. The thump of your heartbeat flooded your hearing as you clicked on the button to confirm the booking. Your fate is in your own hands and can only hope for the best when you walk back into the studio the next day.

The rest of the night was spent getting everything ready for class the next night to look your best for Minghao. Deep down inside of you there was this giddy feeling that you were getting the chance to finally have the time with him with no one else to bother you nor get in the way of any conversation. Even going to bed early was part of your plan to make tomorrow run as smoothly as it can. Tossing and turning all night but the only thing on your mind was Minghao and his perfect body. Only dreaming of what his fingers would feel like inside of you.

Surprisingly everything went well the next day just as planned. Everything ran smoothly at work and the drive back home was somewhat peaceful, but the burning thought of spending two hours with Minghao was starting to creep in. Your knuckles go white gripping from gripping onto the steering wheel so hard without you realising but you quickly snapped out of your daydream.

The nerves started to kick in as soon as you parked your car and went to change out of your work clothes into the ones that were laid out last night for today's session. As you were getting dressed you couldn’t help but dream about what his reaction would be as you walked through those doors dressed up just for him. Deep down you knew this was wrong but this was the one chance that you had for this monumental class. Silently making a promise with yourself not to fuck it up in any way. Quickly grabbing your keys and bag before leaving your house with adrenaline running through your veins at a million miles an hour.

Whispering small words of encouragement to yourself in an attempt to calm down before the long, antagonising drive to the studio to be met with him;

Xu Minghao.

You rolled the window in the car down in an attempt to get some fresh air into the vehicle to give yourself the chance to breathe but nothing was helping. The closer that you were getting to the yoga studio, the more your hands started to sweat and a lump in your throat started to form. But you started to get slightly excited at the thought of meeting Minghao once again, letting your eyes trail over his perfectly built body.

“Now isn’t the time to think about him.” You grumbled to yourself, mentally kicking yourself for even letting your mind wander whilst driving, but he was almost too perfect not to. Reality finally hit you as soon as you pulled up and parked in a space, the anxiety and anticipation hit you like a wave. Taking a moment to yourself before stepping out of your car trying to focus your mind before getting out of the car heading to the entrance. Every step was filled with more anxiety and dread wanting to turn back but you couldn’t let an opportunity go like this, could you?

“Welcome!”

A voice interrupted you from your thoughts. The receptionist greeted you with a wide smile but was met with nothing in return from you, trying to not let people see or hear the anxiety dripping from you. Fuck. Turning around to the sight of Minghao finishing stretching through the glass door behind you. It took all the will power inside of you to walk into that room and make conversation with him.

“Oh, Hello Y/N…!"

Man, did he look beautiful.

Minghao was dressed so casually in a tank top and sweatpants, giving you the perfect view of his defined arms. Letting your eyes trail down his perfectly sculpted body, Minghao was the embodiment of the word perfect, to the point he didn’t even seem real to you. Luckily you caught yourself getting lost in his body before he did, thanking yourself that he didn't.

“Shall we get started?” Minghao smiled before leading you further into the room.

Surprisingly, the atmosphere between you both isn’t as tense as you thought it would be after what happened when you saw him last. The sunset flooded in through the floor to ceiling windows, giving the room an orange haze. You sat your mat just behind him making sure that you had the perfect view of Minghao in the mirror. He gently smiled at you before starting to instruct you how to stretch.

“Reach down to your toes for me…” Minghao instructed, watching as you took a deep breath in before stretching your arms up and then leaning down as far as you could. The muscles in your thighs tensed up before you could reach your toes making it harder to move any further. You let out a disappointed sigh as he came over to help you. Embarrassing yourself was the last thing that you wanted to do now that it was only you and him in the room but he didn’t mind helping you, it was his job after all.

“Let me help you, Darling” Immediately you stopped breathing as you felt his hands trail down the side of your thighs with his feather-like touch. Even over the fabric of your leggings it felt like he was touching your bare legs, treating you so gently. His lean frame leaned over yours to help you with the stretch making it less painful for you. No words were exchanged by the both of you, only making the tension increase.

The adrenaline was running wild which only made it harder to think and justify your further actions. All this because of him doing his job? Were you the one in the wrong here?. It only made you worse when the thoughts came flooding of him pounding you in front of his mirror with everyone being able to hear and see what was going on. He laced one of your hands with yours to help you back up like the gentleman he was.

“Are you okay, Minghao?” You frowned, noticing his dazed look which was different from the Minghao you’re used to seeing. But little did you know that Minghao was fighting the same demons with you at that moment but he had to try and keep it professional. Will people see if anything happened between you both? As the sexual-tension increased over the session it only made it harder for him to keep this going without going insane. He didn’t want to lose his job, but he wouldn’t mind if it was for you.

He had to take a minute to calm his inner self before guiding you into the next position. He gulped harshly as he instructed you to get down onto your hands and knees on your mat as he walked over once again to help you. To him, you looked so beautiful with the orange of the sunlight hitting off of your skin which only let his mind trail.

“Arch your back for me.”

Your eyes involuntarily widened when he asked you, it was for the benefit of your own body right? Arching your back as far as you could until you felt the tightness in your back. Your hands were now clammy with your own sweat waiting on Minghao saying anything or helping you. He just stood behind you looking down at your frame fighting his inner demons. As he kneeled down behind you, his eyes trailed down your back and landed at your ass. He didn’t want to look like a creep but it was hard when you were just this beautiful.

A small gasp left your lips as his large hands held onto your waist slightly pushing you down until your ass was perfectly pressed up against him. The once calm breathing in the room has now turned into heavy, staggered breathing as you both tried to fight the urge. As you looked into the mirror, you caught sight of how beautiful you both looked right now.

If only he was inside of you right now.

You gulped harshly as you grinded back on him and you felt how hard he really was, it must've hurt so much. Surprisingly he gripped onto your hips tighter to hold you closer to him as you started to rock your hips against his trying to get any noises from him. It was difficult for you to hold back on your noises as he felt so good rubbing against your clothed cunt. You could feel his cock twitch underneath his shorts as you rubbed against every inch of his cock.

“Are you sure that you want this?” Minghao’s voice came out in a rasp. Looking into your eyes in the reflection of the mirror as he held your chin. He came to a still as he waited on your answer as he wouldn't continue without your consent. You saw how much love and admiration was behind his eyes as he waited on an answer from you. A slight smile creeped into Minghao’s face when you gave him the go ahead.

Tilting your head to the side as his plump lips left a trail down your neck, ghosting over your most sensitive areas. You bit down on your bottom lip to try to keep your noises low, not that it helped anyways. The thrill of having someone catching you in the act made the situation much more thrilling. Muffled groans erupted from Minghao as he felt your hips rub against him again but this time it was different. Now you could finally give into any urges that have built up inside of you both for too long.

His hands trailed down the front of your leggings and down to your clothed cunt where you gasped in surprise feeling two of his long, slender fingers rub at your clit. Very slowly his fingers circled around the fabric as he watched every little reaction from you. Minghao held onto you when your knees gave up for a moment as you got too carried away with the euphoric feeling.

“You are being such a good girl for me” The praise sounded so sensual coming from his lips, his deep sultry voice that once guided you through yoga moves is now teaching you another way to stretch. Feeling yourself completely at his mercy as your body goes limp against his hold, anticipating what is coming next. His fingers hook underneath the waistband of your leggings to pull them down and reveal your panties to him, and your soaked cunt.

“Please, Minghao” Your begging caught him off guard, the desperation in your voice made his cock twitch in his shorts. He was now seeing you as much more than just one of his clients which filled his mind with more fantasies. It would be so different if he had you back in his own bed without having to worry about other eyes watching you both. The poor man was aching to be inside of you but your pleasure came first. One hand pushed you down onto the mat between your shoulders whilst the other pushed your panties to the side.

Minghao was such a sucker for your whines and whimpers, finding them so beautiful. His slender fingers trailed up and down your cunt collecting arousal. He was holding himself back for his own sake, he didn't want to ruin his first time with you. Taking his sweet time with you preparing you for his cock. The poor man almost came in his shorts as you moaned when he slid one finger inside of you. All you were aching for was the feeling of his cock inside of you, reaching places no one else has never felt.

You rocked your hips against his finger practically begging him for more before you gasped at the feeling of the second finger. Clawing at the mat below you trying to anchor yourself but the feeling was too good. Your eyes fluttered shut enjoying the sweet stretch of his fingers rubbing against your walls, occasionally bumping against that sweet spot inside of you.

Suddenly all the pleasure came to a stop, bringing you out of your lust field haze. Turning your head around to Minghao who has a large grin on his face looking deep into your eyes. You wanted to slap him at that moment but you knew he was close to giving you what you both wanted. He wanted the first time that he made you cum to be on his cock. The room was hot and clammy, making the situation much more messy to be in. Not even the hot yoga rooms were this hot.

“Give it to me, Minghao…” You begged, eyes pleading him the best you could. Minghao finally gave into your whines as he didn’t want to fight you anymore. He has always dreamed of what it would be like to have you underneath him begging him for more. Dreams really do come true don't they?

You couldn't help but look as he stepped away from you to get rid of his shorts. You felt your body getting hotter at the sight of his cock, despite being painfully hard inside his boxers, he still kept his composure so he could take his time with you. Gently taking a hold of your hips until you were held against his body with no distance between you both.

“Can you be a good girl for me?” Minghao asks you directly, looking deeply into your eyes as his clothed cock keeps teasing your clit making it harder for you to concentrate. His grip tightened on your hips until his knuckles were white, holding you down on the mat. Your back was arched so perfectly it made for the perfect height to meet his hips with every thrust. Through the mirror Minghao was holding eye contact with you very intensely, if you dared to look away he would pull your direction back to the mirror.

Minghao sighed in relief when he finally moved his boxers enough to free his cock from the confines of the fabric. Running his tip along your clothed clit, wincing at the sudden pleasure. He peeled the fabric of your soiled panties to the side, finally revealing your bare, dripping pussy. Fuck. He could feel his mouth watering at the sight of your bare cunt, only dreaming of what it would feel like to be inside.

“Fucking take me like the slut you are” Minghao was now babbling to himself as he slowly drove his cock into your cunt. He couldn’t help but let his eyes roll to the back of his head with how warm and wet you were. Nothing could describe how ecstatic he was at that moment. Gripping onto your fragile body like his life depended on it. He took a moment to take in everything that had happened, he will never forget his first time with you. Your cunt swallowed him perfectly in all of the right places, making it harder to keep himself together. The last thing he wanted to do was to cum too early and ruin the precious moment.

Minghao was too fucked out to hear what you said to him the first time. Immediately he snapped out of his daze, almost panicking if he hurt you in any way.

“More Minghao” You repeated, at that point you were too desperate to care how you sounded, but Minghao gave in to you straight away. Moving slowly at first dragging every single inch of his cock along your walls smiling as you fight to hold yourself up. Minghao stepped in to help you, using what power he had left to hold your limp body up.

“I’ve got you princess” The man held onto you tightly as you let your head fall onto his shoulder.It was so difficult to keep your own eyes open but you wanted to take as much of this in as possible. With every slight flex or tense of his muscles you found him much more attractive. It was addicting to watch as he thrusted harshly inside of you getting you closer to your orgasm with every thrust. Bouncing in his lap like a doll, his perfect doll.

“Wanna cum for me?” Your eyes widened in shock, thinking you heard him wrong but he was right. Finally you get to cum around him, getting to let yourself go completely numb in his hands. His breathing was more sporadic as he got closer to his orgasm, working you both to the peak. Minghao whispers praises in your ears calling you all sorts of beautiful names helping your orgasm come quicker. It’s when he snakes his hand down to rub at your clit that your orgasm hits you hard. Minghao holding you as your own body shaked intensely, tightening around his cock even more. No sooner was his orgasm triggered, he tried to pull out but your cunt was too warm. Long white ribbons now buried deep inside of you keeping you warm and full.

For his first time he didn't think he would be coming inside of you but he loved it. Your body was limp against his, you were like a dead weight. Still shaking so much he took one thumb to your cheek and started to brush the apple of your cheek as a way to calm you down. He smiled at you letting you come down from your high at the pace you wanted. The last thing he wanted was to ruin the experience this late. Even though it just happened Minghao couldn't believe what he just experienced, it was the best dream ever for him.

“Same time next week?”

#hard hours #k pop smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen hard #seventeen hard hours #svt hard thoughts #svt hard hours #svt x you #xu minghao x reader #minghao smut #xu minghao smut #svt minghao

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rafecameronssl4t · 14 days

Note

Omg god can you please do a forced marriage au. Where reader is being weirdly clingy(Ik it doesn’t really fit her vibe) and rafe’s weirded out. And she kisses him unexpectedly and he’s so confused.

Drunk kisses || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: fluffy fic which ik all of you have been wanting in this au so u are welcome ;)

Warnings: none really just fluff

Word count: 2,380

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

Rafe barely glanced up from his laptop when the front doorbell rang. The sharp sound cut through the quiet of the house, but he quickly resumed typing, thinking nothing of it at first. It rang again, more insistently this time, drawing his attention. He frowned, closing his laptop and glancing toward the hallway.

"Anita?" he called out, expecting the familiar shuffle of the housekeeper’s footsteps. But silence greeted him in return. He checked his watch—it was past midnight. Of course, everyone had gone home by now.

With a frustrated sigh, Rafe stood and headed toward the foyer, the steady ringing making him wonder who could possibly be at their door at such an ungodly hour. He glanced at the small display screen by the entrance, his brow furrowing at the sight of you. You were slumped against your sister, who looked like she was struggling to hold you upright. Rafe’s confusion deepened as he swung open the door.

Before he could say anything, you staggered forward, collapsing right into his arms. Charlotte let out a startled gasp, covering her mouth in shock as Rafe instinctively caught you, his hands gripping your waist to steady you. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath, trying to process what was happening. You looked up at him with a lazy, drunken smile, the scent of alcohol heavy on your breath.

The sight of you—usually so composed and poised—now giggling like a carefree girl was jarring. “Oh, look, Lottie! It’s my husband. My gorgeous husb—” you slurred, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you tried to blow a strand of hair away from your face. But before you could finish, Rafe cut you off, his annoyance already simmering beneath the surface.

"How much did you let her drink?" he snapped, turning his icy blue gaze toward Charlotte. There was disbelief in his voice, a hint of something protective and yet frustrated. You had been out of control before, but never like this. “I—I tried,” Charlotte stammered, her face flushed with guilt. “I gave her something else—”

“What? More alcohol?” Rafe’s tone was sharp, and Charlotte flinched under his harsh words. He couldn’t believe it. You were usually guarded, careful—this wasn’t like you at all. Rafe glanced down at you again, a mixture of irritation and concern flashing across his face as you leaned further into him, still smiling like the world was spinning too slowly for you.

"We're supposed to have breakfast with your parents tomorrow," he muttered, more to himself than to you. His jaw clenched, the thought of having to face them with you like this filling him with dread. As much as he loathed the idea of those formal meals, they mattered in your world—the perfect image you were both supposed to maintain.

Rafe struggled to keep you upright, your legs barely cooperating as you leaned heavily against him, still giggling softly. His frustration flared again, and he shot a sharp glance at Charlotte, who stood frozen in the doorway, wringing her hands nervously. “How the hell did this even happen?” he demanded, his voice low but dangerous.

Charlotte hesitated, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “She… she just kept ordering more drinks. I tried to stop her, I swear, but she insisted. And, well, you know how stubborn she can get.” Rafe let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, I know." He looked down at you as you murmured something incoherent, your fingers toying with the collar of his shirt.

"And you didn’t think to call me? Or at least cut her off?” “I—” Charlotte started but quickly swallowed her words when Rafe’s icy gaze met hers again. "I thought she'd sober up. I didn’t want to make a scene… and she kept saying she was fine." "Clearly, she’s not fine," Rafe snapped, his tone sharp as he adjusted his grip on you, trying to stop you from slipping further down his side.

“You should’ve stopped her. God, Charlotte, you know we have that damn breakfast tomorrow.” Charlotte’s eyes widened as if realising the gravity of the situation all over again. “I’m sorry, Rafe. I really didn’t mean for it to get this out of hand…” Rafe clenched his jaw, his patience thinning with each passing second. “Well, it did. And now I have to deal with this.” He shook his head, his grip tightening slightly on your waist as he hoisted you up a little higher.

“Mmm… Rafe," you mumbled softly, your head lolling against his chest. “You're always so serious.” Your words slurred together, and you let out another soft laugh, as if this entire situation was some kind of joke. Rafe's brow furrowed, his annoyance tempered for a moment by the sight of you so completely out of character. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this—carefree, uninhibited, and honestly, it unnerved him.

“You should go home, Charlotte,” Rafe finally said, his voice quieter now but still holding that authoritative edge. “I’ll take care of her.” Your sister looked hesitant, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe. "Are you sure? I can help—" "No, just go. You've done enough." His tone left no room for argument, and Charlotte sighed in defeat, giving him a small nod before stepping back toward the door.

“I really am sorry,” she murmured softly, her voice laced with guilt. She cast one last glance at you, who was now resting your head against Rafe’s chest, your arms loosely draped around his neck. Rafe didn’t respond, his attention now fully on you as Charlotte finally made her exit.

The front door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving the two of you alone in the dimly lit foyer. You stirred in his arms, blinking up at him with bleary eyes, the remnants of your smile still lingering. “You always look so serious, Rafe,” you whispered, your words thick with exhaustion. “Why can’t you just… relax?” Rafe sighed deeply, his frustration mixing with an odd sense of helplessness.

He wasn’t used to feeling like this—torn between annoyance and something else he couldn’t quite place. "Because someone has to be," he muttered, more to himself than to you. You giggled again, leaning your forehead against his chest. “Maybe I should be serious too, then. Like you. So we can both be… boring together.” You laughed softly at your own words, your fingers tracing absentminded circles on his chest.

Rafe’s lips twitched again, the ghost of a smile threatening to break through his usually stoic expression. You were a mess, slurring your words and giggling like a child, but in the soft, dim glow of the foyer, you looked undeniably beautiful. Strands of hair framed your face in a way that made you seem even more delicate, your skin glowing faintly under the soft lighting.

For a fleeting moment, he found himself captivated by how vulnerable and unguarded you appeared—so different from the strong-willed woman he was used to. But he quickly shook the thought away, forcing himself to stay focused. This was not the time to get caught up in sentiment. “You’re drunk,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time, though still touched with that same gentleness that had snuck in earlier.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed before you say something else you’ll regret.” His eyes lingered on your face, watching as your expression shifted from amusement to a peaceful kind of daze. The way you leaned further into him, trusting him completely in your intoxicated state, stirred something unexpected within him—an unfamiliar blend of protectiveness and tenderness.

It unsettled him, but he pushed it aside, convincing himself it was just the responsibility of the moment. You hummed softly, your eyes fluttering closed, a contented sigh slipping past your lips. “Mmm… my gorgeous husband, taking care of me,” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper but carrying a playful edge that made Rafe’s heart beat a little faster.

Even drunk, you were still testing him, still finding a way to get under his skin. He rolled his eyes, though there was no real malice behind it. “Yeah, yeah, I’m your gorgeous husband,” he muttered, half-exasperated, half-amused as he tightened his grip on you, making sure you were secure in his arms. “Let’s just focus on getting you upstairs in one piece.”

You chuckled softly, your head resting more comfortably against his chest, your breath warm against the fabric of his shirt. “Always so serious…” you mumbled, your voice trailing off as sleep began to claim you. Rafe glanced down at you again, shaking his head slightly. Even in this state, you still managed to get to him. He started moving toward the stairs, his steps careful as he balanced your weight against his own.

Rafe opened the door to your shared room, his movements steady as he guided you into the closet. “Here, you should get changed into something more comfortable,” he murmured, opening a drawer and pulling out one of his shirts—a soft, oversized one you often stole when you didn’t want to bother with your own clothes. He handed it to you, watching as your tired gaze shifted toward the shirt before flickering back to him.

“Can… can you help me take my dress off?” you muttered, barely audible, your voice tinged with exhaustion and the alcohol that still clouded your thoughts. You gave him those wide, pleading doe eyes that always managed to catch him off guard. Rafe inhaled sharply but quickly nodded. He’d seen you like this before—unguarded, your skin bare, but it never failed to stir something in him.

It wasn’t the sight of your skin that unsettled him; he was used to that. Over time, in this strange forced marriage, he’d grown accustomed to the intimacy of shared space, of your body in close proximity. It was the trust you displayed, the way you asked for his help now, that threw him off balance. You turned around, shifting your hair to one side, exposing the zipper of your dress.

Rafe reached for it, fingers grazing your back as he slowly pulled the zipper down, the fabric sliding easily off your shoulders. His eyes briefly flickered to the dress, a slight frown on his face—it was shorter than he liked, something he wasn’t thrilled about you wearing out. But now, as you stepped out of it, all he could think about was how fragile you looked.

You grabbed the shirt from his hands and pulled it over your head, the soft cotton falling past your thighs as you kicked off your heels with a relieved sigh. Rafe watched you for a moment longer before quietly guiding you toward the bathroom. He rummaged through the drawer, pulling out your toothbrush and squeezing toothpaste onto it before handing it to you. You brushed your teeth lazily, your movements growing slower as your eyelids drooped, exhaustion settling in.

Rafe stood by, waiting until you were done before helping you back to the bed. Just as your body sank into the soft sheets, ready to drift off into sleep, he lightly patted your cheek, keeping you from completely fading. "Uh-uh, gotta get that makeup off, or you'll throw a fit tomorrow morning," Rafe teased, reaching for the wipes on your vanity. You groaned in protest, your voice muffled against the pillow. “I won’t.”

“Yes, you will,” Rafe retorted, walking back over and sitting on the edge of the bed. He began gently wiping the makeup from your face, his touch careful and methodical. He had done this before, knew the routine, and though the task was mundane, there was an unspoken closeness in these moments that neither of you ever acknowledged.

He returned to the bed, sitting beside you as he carefully wiped away the layers of makeup. His touch was gentle, more considerate than you expected, his brow furrowed in concentration as he made sure to remove every trace. You gazed up at him through heavy lids, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin and the softness of his gestures.

When he was done, he moved to pull away, but your fingers curled around his wrist, stopping him. Rafe looked at you, confusion briefly crossing his face, but the intensity in your gaze softened him. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice tender, vulnerable in a way it rarely was. Your eyes drifted to his lips, your heart picking up speed as the moment stretched between you.

Rafe swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he nodded, his voice hushed. “Of course.” Without another word, you gently pulled him closer, closing the space between you. Your lips met his in a slow, tentative kiss—an action that felt more like a quiet confession than anything else. Rafe stiffened at first, but then his lips moved against yours, soft yet firm, as though the weight of the night had brought you both to this point.

But he pulled back after a moment, his eyes searching yours for something he wasn’t even sure of. “Get some sleep,” he whispered, pulling the sheets up to tuck you in. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering just a second longer than usual before he stood, leaving the room without another glance.

—

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains as you slowly lifted your head from the pillow, a dull throb of pain radiating through your temples. You winced, squinting against the brightness as the events of the previous night came flooding back—Charlotte, the drinks, Rafe helping you to bed, and… the kiss.

You stirred slightly, feeling the sheets move beside you. Glancing over, you saw Rafe’s sleeping form, his features relaxed. He lay facing you, still half-asleep, though he must have sensed your movement because he mumbled groggily, “On your bedside table.”

You turned, spotting the glass of water and the medicine waiting for you. A small smile tugged at your lips despite the pounding in your head. Even when his words were rough, his actions showed a softness you were beginning to see more often.

You reached for the water and pills, the gesture not lost on you. As you downed the water, you couldn’t help but glance back at him, wondering if, beneath all the tension and complications between you, something deeper had started to bloom.

917 notes · View notes

seospicybin · 1 year

Text

FOLDER 103.

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Synopsis: Everyone knows that the one item Chan always brings with him everywhere is his laptop but what they don't know is the contents of a secret folder named 103. (7k words)

Author's note: A quick one shot you can enjoy or uh... I hope so :)

Everyone knows Chan treasures his laptop the most.

It's something that he keeps dearly close to him because it contains all of his works and upcoming projects. He's using it all the time. Everyone knows how he likes to take it anywhere with him, it's a widely known fact.

But what everyone doesn't know is he keeps something personal in it too. Very personal that he doesn't want to risk it being found by accident by someone. He puts it in a folder, named it something ordinary, and protected it with a password.

Tonight is one of those nights. It's raining outside, he's alone in his room, the light is low and his playlist is playing in the background. Checking his phone, he sees that you haven't read his texts and he misses you, misses you so bad that he can't stop himself anymore.

He sits on the chair pushes it close to the desk, carefully opens his laptop, and searches for the folder that only he knows exactly where it is.

Entering his password and clicking enter, the folder unlocked, showing various types of files of photos and videos.

Yes, he's not collecting porn but porn that he made himself. It's of you and him, doing kinky, naughty things with and to each other.

Chan starts his collection by keeping the nudes you sent him on his phone, but he knows that it's risky to keep them there so he transferred them to his laptop.

Then with time, his collection grew from photos to videos. They're all consensual of course, he wouldn't take them in the first place without your permission.

To be honest, he was afraid that you wouldn't agree to it. Him recording the sexual activities he did together with you with his phone. Sure, he completely understands if you are against it, it's your body, it's privacy but what he's afraid of the most was that you would think of him differently.

To his surprise, not only you permitted him, you enjoyed doing it with him and Chan thinks, that is the moment he fell deeper into you.

The first one he recorded is a video of him going down on you, his mouth deep in your drenched cunt and a sheen of your essence is all over his mouth and chin. Your soft moans can be heard in it, breathlessly calling his name with your hand tangled in his curls.

Watching it, making him crave the taste of you on his tongue.

Chan clicks open the next video, it's a goofy one he recorded of him playfully biting on your ass cheek and you were laughing as he takes another big bite. He gently landed a slap on the ample flesh after but that only sent you laughing harder. Listening to your crisp laughs, he can't help but laugh along.

This one makes his heart long for you.

He pushes a button to display the next file, showing him a picture of you sucking his thumb. Another picture pops as he continues, of you laying naked on the bed with his cum all over you. The next is another picture of Chan biting your lower lip while you smile against his lips.

Oh, those lips, he yearns to kiss, taste it, lick it, bite it.

Another video plays as he hits next, he remembers it was you who recorded it because he was busy sucking on your breast. He watches as his tongue circles your nipple before taking it whole into his mouth, hungrily sucking on it while his hand kneads the other one.

Your hand is softly scratching his head, "you like that, baby?" You softly murmured to him in the video.

Chan didn't answer but opened his mouth bigger to take more of the supple flesh. He pushed both of your breasts to the middle so he could take them all at once with his hungry mouth.

"My greedy baby," you murmured once again with a fistful of his hair in your hand.

Chan likes when you call him endearing things, he likes it best when you put your sense of ownership over him in it because he likes being yours as much as he likes having you as his.

"My baby," he sighs at the photo of the two of you inside an empty elevator where Chan kissed your neck with his hands going under, cupping your breasts under your t-shirt.

The fact of doing it in a confined, semi-public space is very kinky to him yet you were the one who encouraged him to do it.

There are so many photos of the two of you together, cuddling, kissing or just lying close next to each other on the bed, naked. More pictures of you naked, every part of you that he likes, oh... how he wishes you were here right now!

He scrolls down from hundreds of files to the one video he likes so much.

It starts with you, kneeling between his legs and you're looking up at him, wide eyes with wild glints in them. You slowly wrap your hand around his length before taking it into your mouth.

The sight of it reminds him of how your mouth feels around him, so warm, so soft, so fucking good...

"Yeah, just like that baby," Chan hisses in pleasure at how you syncing your hand movement with your mouth going up and down his length, giving him the utmost pleasure.

His hand gripped the side of your head, putting your hair to the side and holding it there.

"I'm close, baby, close..." he breathlessly told you how he couldn't hold it in anymore.

You pulled away and replaced it with your hand, adding speed to the hand that is pumping his cock to his high. You close your eyes knowing that he'll cum at any second yet bringing your face close to him, presenting your face for him to cum on.

Chan's ragged breath was the sign that he was almost there and as a profanity falls out of his mouth, his load shot out of the tip of his cock, making streaks on your face.

Your cheek, chin, lips, and eye. He knew you would complain about his cum getting all over your face but you break into laughter instead.

"Baby?" he asked in confusion.

"I can't even—" you paused to laugh some more.

Once you collected yourself, you told him while still lowly laughing, "Can't open my eyes."

At that moment, he realizes why he loves you so much. You're of so many things, cute and sexy, funny and a little crazy, making him turned on and in love at once. Chan believes he's lucky to find all of that in a person.

Another one of his favorites is the two of you making out during sex, you were on top with him sitting under you and his hand on the arch of your back while the other kneading on your ass cheek.

What makes it so special to him is not the sex act, it's the way you look at him with so much affection in your eyes and how you gently held him with your arms around his shoulders, he was inside you yet none of you were moving.

But he felt deeply connected to you, body and soul.

You softly smiled when he whispered those three words to you and he remember how you clenched around him at that very second, his cock twitching in his sweatpants just now from reminiscing it.

"I love you too, baby," you said back to him against his lips.

Maybe he likes the video so much because it wasn't just sex that's mainly physical. It was making love, making sweet, sweet love to you.

Chan has been dating you for six months but what a time!

He's grateful to have found you, grateful that you understand him, and are always open to exploring new things with him. What he is truly grateful for is your trust.

Which also what Chan thinks is the sexiest part of this relationship, how you trust each other. He knows it's a hard thing to earn from someone yet you're giving it to him so easily and for that, he promised to never take it for granted.

Seeing all these photos and videos only amplify his longing for you, as much as he likes them, they're not as good as feeling you with his fingertips.

That soft skin, those pretty lips, that mouth that can do more than just moan his name, your warmth, your laughter, your body, you, you, and you.

As if his thought calling out to you, his phone ringing on his desk and he grins at the sight of your name on the screen.

"Hi, lovesick boy," you call him that to tease him.

He catches himself foolishly smiling in the mirror, "hey the girl in my wet dreams," he teases back.

You lowly chuckle and oh, how he misses hearing that close to his ear.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

Chan leans back on his chair until it reclines and considers for a moment if he should tell you the truth or not. He sucks air through his teeth and chooses a witty answer, "Thinking of you sitting on my face."

A wave of laughter breaks from the other end of the line and he can imagine what your face looks like when he said that. Chan knows you like it when he's being straightforward like this, you find it sexy.

"I'm not sure you'd make a good seat," you poke fun at him.

Chan pokes his cheek with his tongue and thinks of something cheeky to say back to you, "I wasn't born with a big nose for nothing."

That amuses you so much, another wave of laughter filling his ear and making the ache of his heart lessened.

"I'll see that myself," you say.

He closes his eyes so he can picture you talking to him without all this distance, "I miss you."

"What do you miss from me?" You playfully ask.

"The whole you, of course!" Chan shortly replies, feeling proud of giving you the best answer there is.

"My hole?" You pretend to mishear him.

Now it's Chan's turn to laugh so hard he almost falls off his chair, "well, yeah, that too," he jokingly adds.

"Three more days, baby, just three more days," you assure him with a smile that he can hear through the phone.

"What should I do by then?"

"Do not touch yourself," you answer without thinking.

Chan hisses as he glances down at his hard cock, bulging inside the confine of his sweatpants.

"No?" You ask since he takes a long time to answer.

Chan pinches the bridge of his nose, wanting to say yes but he knows it wouldn't be an easy task to do so.

"I'm not—" he sighs instead of finishing his sentence.

"I don't want you to cum anywhere else but inside me," you mewl at him, using that sultry voice you always use when you're being needy.

"Okay, baby?"

It's pretty obvious that he's weak for you, he would drop to his knees easily for you, worship you like a goddess you are so if you assigned him a task, he'd better do his best to succeed at it.

"For you, yes," he finally answers.

He can hear you smiling on the phone, "good boy," you coo at him.

"And what does a good boy get?" He teases you.

"A lot of fun things," you reply with a low, sultry voice, "and more."

His ears perk up at the sound of that, a lot of fun things with you, and more. He exhales air out of his mouth to calm himself down.

As soon as he hangs up the phone, Chan is getting up from his chair, groaning at how will he endure three days of not being able to get a release.

"Time for a cold shower, Chan!" He tells himself as he looks down at the bulge in his sweatpants, having no other option but to tame his desire.

It's only been hours and you're already making it hard for him

Chan wakes up to new text messages from you and when he opens them, they're pictures of you, freshly showered with beads of water dotting your skin.

The bathrobe you're wearing barely covered your breasts, he scrolls down not expecting to see that you sent him one of those beautiful mounds to him.

"These babies are missing you too," you wrote in the text.

Chan rolls on the bed and stares at the ceiling for a good minute to gather his thoughts and reorganize them, focused on things he needs to do.

But well, he's just a man who can't help it at times, he looks at it again and...

"Fuck!" He curses out loud, feeling so conflicted. He loves it but hates it at the same time.

The torture doesn't stop there. You sent him nudes at the most random of times, catching him off guard and making it harder for him to not touch himself.

You sent a video of you trying on some lingerie and intentionally exposing enough bits that get him craving, salivating for you, growing an insatiable hunger inside him.

Chan takes it that you enjoy torturing him so much but somehow, he finds pleasure in the pain too. So he hangs on for dear life and managed to survive the day.

However, at the end of the second day, with you keep teasing him with nudes and constantly tempting him to break the rules, sending Chan to the brink of giving up.

There's something about being told not to do something that only makes him want to do it more.

When that urge happens, he reminds himself that giving himself a few rubs will not be worth it, not when you promised him "a lot of fun things and more".

So Chan busies himself with work to distract himself and not thinking of you, only texting you to know how you're doing and when will you come home and put an end to his misery.

"One more day, baby," you console him through the phone.

It's not about physical needs anymore, he misses you so much that it feels like he has a hole in his chest, and no matter how much air he breathes in, he's barely living.

"I know," he says with a defeated sigh.

He can't speed up time nor shorten the distance, there's nothing he can do about it anyway. He's powerless, all he can do is patiently wait for you.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep and I'll be right there when you wake up," you make a compromise like you would to a two-year-old child.

However, that amuses him and makes him feel good. He chuckles and pulls his duvet to cover his body, up to his chest.

"I'll be dreaming of you," he mutters with a dreamy smile and eyes closed for he can see you in his sleep too.

"With my clothes on or off?" You jokingly ask.

"With clothes on, of course!" He aggressively replies.

"But I'll be the one without my clothes on," he adds and proceeds to burst into laughter.

The giggles you let out make his heart rattles, missing you even more than before.

"That means I'll be the one doing things to you?"

It seems like Chan got caught in his own game. He shouldn't have started what he can't finish. He licks his lips before speaking, "Haven't I always let you do things to me?"

You hum as you think of an answer, "Uhm... I think not often enough."

That's news to him or maybe he's so used to always being put in charge makes him unaware that he's controlling you.

"Just know that just thinking of you doing things to me got me all..." he hisses instead of finishing his sentence.

Bet you know without him having to say it. You just know how to get him all hot and bothered, know which button to push, and send him into overdrive.

You lowly laugh and probably bit your nails when you did it just like you always do this cute habit of yours.

"I have to go, baby," you sadly inform.

He can hear the noise and bustle in the background, you must be in the middle of something.

"Okay," he sighs.

"Sleep tight, baby," you sweetly speak.

"Stay safe, okay? Be careful."

"Yes, sir!" You respond

See? You know how he likes when you call him that with your sultry voice of yours yet it still has that goofiness to it.

"I love you," he endearingly says that his heart quakes.

Your smile is audible, low yet loud enough he can hear it through the phone, "I love you."

When he thinks you're about to hang up, you say another thing to him.

"Can't wait to do things to you!"

It may be a joke or words you say to get him excited but it sounds more than just that to him, one that he anticipates and impatiently waits to become true.

The last thing you said to him lingering in his head to the point that he's dreaming about it.

In his dream, you're sitting on top of him and kissing him, placing sweet little kisses all over his face, neck, and chest. It's so vivid that he can feel your weight on top of him and the softness of your lips as you place each kiss on him.

"Baby?"

Even the way you call him, he can hear it right in his ear and feel your breath fanning his ear shell.

"Wake up..." you softly whisper.

This time, he's sure he's not dreaming. Slowly, he opens his eyes to find you staring at him with a wide grin on your face.

You softly kiss his lips and let out an exaggerated smooching sound to convince him that you're real, "Surprise!" You lowly exclaim.

He knows it's true, that you're here, but can't believe it still. Using his hand, he holds your face and then moves his hand down to trail your beautiful frame.

"Is it really you, baby?" He sleepily asks.

As far as he touches you, he doesn't feel any layer of clothing on you, just miles and miles of soft, warm skin. Damn, you're naked and sitting on top of him.

Taking his hand, you place a kiss on the inside of his hand, "it's me, baby," you assure him.

Chan glides his hand down to your chest and does not hesitate to cup your breast, kneading it. He nods in approval, then mutters, "Oh, yeah, it's really you."

You laugh as you lean closer, "You know your babies so well."

Chan now uses both hands to knead on your breasts while quietly breathing out air through his mouth, nodding at you with a proud grin on his face.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

You place kisses on and around his lips, "it's a surprise, baby," you answer.

With your fingers, you touch his full, plump lips with just your fingertips and can't help but land another kiss.

Then you bring your mouth close to his ear and seductively whisper, "And I come to test my seat for tonight."

Chan silently grins that the dimples sunken deep on his cheeks, "oh, you're going to love it," he confidently says with eyes half shut and intensely staring up at you.

"Once you are seated, you don't want to get off."

It's the sly smirk dancing on his face that provokes you the most, it's mischievous, naughty and you hate that it looks good on him, making him ten times hotter than he already is.

You refuse to just fall into his words. You lean in and hold his face by his jaw, "as I said, I have to see it myself," you tell him.

The hands resting on your waist move down to your thighs, rubbing them up and down with his knuckles. He's looking deep into your eyes with eyes wide and dark with lust.

"Come and have a seat, baby," he dares you.

Chan keeps licking his lips to wet them as you take your position, kneeling with his head between your legs. Holding the headboard of the bed as support, you slowly lower yourself on him.

He welcomes you with an open mouth, grunting in delight as he put his hands on your waist. You lowly moaning feeling his soft lips wrapping around the delicate thing between your legs, tongue lapping over your wetness and sucking on it.

He glides his hands down to your thighs and puts your thighs together, wrapped around his head. There's no better way to suffocate himself but to be pressed in between your legs.

You look down at his closed eyes with his dark lashes fanning out so beautifully, brushing his curls to the back with your finger, you coo, "My baby is hungry, mmh?"

He opens his eyes to look at you for a second and hums his answer, opening his mouth bigger to take more of you. Moving his hands to your rear, cupping your ass cheeks in his hands and squeezing on the flesh.

Slowly, he motions you to start moving your hips, grinding on his face. You grip the headboard tighter and set a steady pace while looking down at his face, making sure that what you're doing is not uncomfortable for him.

But it seems like he's not lying when he dreamed of wanting you to sit on his face, you can see that he wanted it so much from how eager, how hungry, how passionate he is on drowning himself in you.

He's tirelessly eating you, enjoying every second of it with his eyes closed and humming in pleasure with his tongue deep inside you.

Seeing him enjoying it, makes you enjoy it as well to the point that you didn't realize his nose is buried under you, nudging your clit and pressing on it, giving you the utmost of pleasure.

Afraid that you suffocate him for real, you slowly get up to let him catch his breath.

"Enjoy it too much, huh?" You playfully ask as his face coated in your essence comes into sight.

Despite gasping for air, he licks his lips, then says, "More, baby."

He looks at you with pleading eyes, "give me a little bit more," he demands.

It's hard not to say no when he gives you those eyes and you like what he's doing to you, you want a little more of it too.

"Only for you, baby," you mutter.

Chan doesn't waste time but pulls you, has you in his mouth again, and dives right in, deeper and deeper, never to come out of the surface.

As much as you hate to stop, it eventually has to come you getting off of him or else he'll be running out of air. You lay next to him on the bed, then kissing him all over, tasting yourself on his face.

"Are you that thirsty, baby?" You ask before continue kissing him.

He laughs against your lips with a hand behind your neck, "How's the seat?"

You pull away just enough and smile, "fucking excellent!"

"Specially reserved for you," he says.

You place a long peck on his lips, "Only for me?"

"Only for you," he assures.

He brings your face close and captures you on a long kiss that gradually turns into a full-on make-out, sparing not even an inch of space left between your bodies.

Three days of being away from each other is certainly not easy for both of you and not to mention, the rule you applied to him.

"You've been a good boy, right?"

He lets out a heavy sigh, "Yeah."

That tells a lot about how he's been handling it, "Has it been hard for you?"

"I'm always hard for you," he answers in no time.

The shared laughs echo in the room, you gently slap his chest and press a kiss on his lips. You move your hand down his body, lazily tracing the outline of his sculpted abs.

"Having fun teasing me, eh?"

You answer with low giggles and an apologetic kiss on his lips. Lowering your hand down south, you coo at him, "You poor thing!"

He bites his lower lip as he feels your hand wrapped around his length with your thumb circling the tip. Locked his eyes in a gaze with you, you hover on top of him and tell him, "Just lay back..."

You throw all of your hair to one side and lower your mouth on his, "I'll take care of you tonight," you add.

Complying to you, Chan comfortably lays on his back, folds his hands, and puts them under his head, he watches as you kiss him down with your hair tickling his skin.

Chan looks down to see that his cock is fully erect in your hand, he doesn't even remember going to bed naked. He doesn't want to think further as you slowly put his throbbing cock in your mouth.

As eager as you always do, you take all of him only to pull away not long after, gasping for air.

"You're so big, baby," you exclaim with a devil smile on, stroking his ego well.

You continue to take him into your mouth again, hollowing your cheeks to suck him well with your hand pumping the rest you can't take. That combination of stimulations is enough to make Chan squirm on the bed. The fact that he hasn't touched himself for days only doubles the pleasure, your hands are doing a better job than his.

"Like that, baby," he breathlessly says with his hand fisting your hair.

Following the noises he lets out as a guide, you continue to do so, sucking him harder and putting a little more intensity to the grip around his cock.

"I'm so close, baby," he says between his low groans.

You do it for another minute before pulling away and using only your hand to keep the stimulation going, "close?"

His body turns red and tensed, the veins on his neck are evident as he lets out a raw groan.

"Close, mmh?"

"Yes, yes," he breathlessly answers.

Instead of keeping going, you slow down your movement and grip the base of his cock tighter to prevent him from cumming.

You expected a frustrated groan coming out of him but he only lowly grunts as you position yourself on top of him, "Not going to let you cum anywhere but inside me," you remind him.

You look at him as he lays back on the bed, watching what you're going to do next.

"Better look at it closely, baby," you warn him.

While still holding his cock, you align it with your entrance, "I'm going to take you so... well..." you hum, then carefully lower yourself on him.

Oh, the feeling of having him inside you! You get overwhelmed that you need to take a moment to compose yourself.

Chan is enjoying it as well, whimpering as you adjust yourself to his cock. Suddenly, a wicked laugh comes out of you as you roll your hips around him, laughing some more as if you're under the influence.

"You feel so good inside me, baby," you say with your eyes closed and your hands touching yourself all over.

This is what Chan likes about you, you have the right amount of everything, good and bad, a little crazy too. What are the chances that he finds someone as perfect as you? Perfect in a way that you fit everything he's looking for in a person.

That's when sex is more than just physical, sure, you have an enticing body that can easily turn him on but the chemistry you and him have is what makes it more than just physical fulfillment.

You pause for a while to plant one foot on the bed to provide more depth, taking him deeper inside you which also presents him a sight of his cock going in and out of you.

"Are you going to cum inside me, baby?" You ask with a sly smirk.

And fuck that smirk, it's sending him closer to the edge.

You lean to the back with your hand propped on his thighs, fucking him good that he no longer can hold himself back from cumming.

He grips your waist in a fruitless effort to slow you down, his nails digging deeper into the flesh as waves of pleasure wash over him.

You stop moving and settle yourself on him, taking all of him. You're softly whimpering, feeling his cock twitching as he released his seed inside you.

With a smile on your face, you lean down and kiss him, containing his low grunts in your mouth, "good, yeah?"

Chan answers with even passionate kisses, all tongues and teeth, unstoppable. Wrapping his hands around you, he draws you closer, closer, and all at once, turns you over on the bed, have you pinned under him.

He slowly lets go of the kiss to sit between your legs and carefully pulls out of you, watching as the pearly white of his cum leaks out of you. Doing it always gives him an inexplicable satisfaction and arouses him so much that his cock hardens.

With your elbows propped against the mattress, you look at him and ask, "You still have more for me, right baby?"

He lowly chuckles and leans in close, kissing you deep, got you squeezing the sides of the pillow as he takes your breath away with the kisses.

"You have no idea, baby," he answers with another kiss on your lips.

He's going down to your neck and going lower from there. From the way, he's excessively kissing your chest and taking your breasts into his mouth, wetting them with kisses and licks.

"Want to play with your babies next?" You guess with your hand in his tousled hair.

He slyly grins and hastily kisses your lips, "Didn't you say they missed me?"

You hold your breasts together for him, "yes, they are, terribly missing you," you whine.

Using his fingers, he plays with your nipple and you watch as it's getting impossibly hard just from the slightest of his touch, "I think this one is excited to see me," he playfully says.

Not waiting for another second, he takes the left nipple and tugs it between his teeth, sucking it hard, then leaving it soaking wet with his saliva.

Chan is looking down at you while he's kneeling on the bed, legs on each side of your body. Without putting his weight on you, he lowers himself just enough to rub your nipple with the tip of his cock.

You put your hands above your head, allowing him to do anything as he pleases and comfortably watching him do things to you.

It seems like he's forgetting something though.

"Are you not going to record this, baby?"

"You want me to?" He asks back.

"Are you sure you're not going to regret not recording this?" You ask back with an even more daring question and a devilish grin dancing on your face.

A hand reached for your jaw and lands a tender caress on your cheek, "You're bad!"

You burst out laughing, "Isn't that why you like me?"

The truth is Chan doesn't necessarily like bad girls but you are one, therefore he likes it.

After giving you a long kiss on the lips, he grabs his phone and starts recording, endearingly touching your face only for you to grab his hand by the wrist, then suck on his thumb.

"Yum..." you seductively hu once you let go of his finger.

The first few minutes are going well but Chan begins to lose his focus as you keep pressing your breasts tight while he's pumping his cock in between. The glints in your eyes are luring him to keep looking, locked in a gaze with yours that he forgets he's recording on his phone.

"Almost there, baby?" You sweetly ask.

He pumps his cock faster between your breasts, glistening wet with his saliva and jiggling along with the movements.

"Almost..." he replies with his voice breaking at the end.

You keep staring at him even when he's not looking, stirring the chaos inside him that he can't stop himself from exploding.

A low gasp escapes your mouth as strings of cum shoot out of the tip of his cock and lands on your chest. You're squirming under him while he's pumping his length as more cum drips out of him and onto your body.

Using your hand, you smear it all over your chest while breathlessly moaning in pleasure. Chan is quick enough to put his focus back on recording you, watching you through the camera, and how you enjoy having his cum all over you.

After a moment, Chan decides to turn it off so he can shift all of his focus back on you and get ready for his favorite part of it all, cuddling you.

Before he gets to his favorite part though, he helps you clean up. Even though he knows you can do it yourself, he can't help himself seeing your body and not washing it for you.

The second both of you return to bed, he wraps his arms around you and places kisses on you, each kiss makes up for the second he spent missing you and more kisses to mark you all over.

He takes his lips back to kiss you and slowly lets go, "hi..." he softly speaks with a gentle squeeze on your waist.

"We did all that and you've just said hi to me now, huh?" You've just come to the realization as well as you give him a quick peck on the lips.

He's grinning with his dimples appearing on both cheeks, undeniably cute and adorable. You can't help but kiss him again.

"I miss you so much," his heart shrank as he said it.

You warmly smile and cup his face in one hand, "I miss you too."

With his feeling reciprocated, Chan feels his heart expanded and full of warm feelings to the brim.

Maybe this is why he finds pleasure in waiting because he knows what he'll get at the end of his suffering, you. Which is the greatest, priceless prize he'll ever get.

However, the dread tomorrow brings looming over him.

"You didn't tell me you're coming. I have lots to do tomorrow," he mumbles, disappointed that he has to go early tomorrow.

"Lots to do to me tomorrow, you mean?" You joke.

He buries his head in your neck, "oh, I wish," he sighs.

You gently pat his head and brush his curls with your fingers, "that's okay. I'll patiently wait for you."

"Like a good girl?" He teases.

You take a moment to answer, "That, I can't promise you."

One thing comes to his mind as he places a long kiss on your lips, "didn't you say you wanted to do things to me?"

You part open your mouth then faintly bite your lower lip, he can see that your eyes are keeping secrets from him.

He tips his head to the side, intrigued.

"You still have a lot of fun things for me or...?"

You subtly shrug and slyly smile, "Maybe."

As much as he likes just laying close to you and talking all night, he notices that you can't keep your eyes open anymore. He puts all of your hair away from your face and put them to the side, "tired?"

You nod with your sleepy eyes.

He places a sweet kiss on your forehead and pours his love into it, "Goodnight, angel!"

You lean in and kiss him on the lips, "Night, baby."

Now that he has you sleeping next to him, the only thing he has left to do is protect you from the bad dreams that might reside in your sleep.

This is what he likes to see first thing in the morning.

Your beautiful face as you are peacefully lost in your dream, your head resting on the soft pillow, and your body that is only for his eyes to look at.

He can't resist the urge to touch you, not when this body is all he can think about and puts him in agony for days. Not when your body is lying so close to him, only covered by the duvet that he can just...

He puts it away to expose your body and watches as his hand touches every inch of it with admiration and lust at once.

This is the body that can put him in both pain and pleasure.

He lowly whimpers as his fingers slide down your smooth skin and at the same time, discover places that make you stir in your sleep.

Chan puts a gentle kiss on that skin behind your ear that he knows is your sensitive spot and pulls away with a satisfied smile drawn on his face.

You hum in your sleep but your eyes remain closed.

Exploring your body more, he freely roams his hand around and touches you in places that he wishes will make you squirm in your sleep.

Touching your body like this without you knowing is giving him pleasure like no other and on top of that, it's just kinky. Chan likes doing kinky things with and to you only.

He traces the curve of your ass and touches your inner thighs, close enough to that thing he wanted to touch the most.

He touches you there with just his fingertips, lightly, fluttering little touches that make you...

Chan gets a bit panicked to see you're looking at him with your barely open eyes.

"Are you just going to touch me and not do anything about it?"

It never ceased to amaze him how you always seem to easily read his mind but he likes to believe that you and him are simply compatible, mentally and physically.

In other words, you're just right for each other.

Also, how can Chan say no to making love to you first thing in the morning?

Two naked bodies, slithering over each other like two snakes making a mess on the bed. The pillow he puts under you provides more depth as he entered you from behind, other than that, it gives you both more pleasure.

As he thrusts into you, he whispered praises into your ears while you were moaning into the pillow.

"Taking me well like a good girl."

"Always tight for me, yeah?"

"So good around me."

"Want to cum inside this pretty pussy."

"Fill you full with my love for you, mmh?"

Before cumming inside you, he puts his hand around your neck and tilted your head to make you look at him.

"I love you," He confessed along with a hard kiss on your lips.

You looped your hand around his neck and pulled him closer, saying back to him with all of your heart, "I love you."

And that's all he can think about.

Chan forgets where he is, and what he is doing, completely losing track of everything. He is in the middle of a schedule right now but all he can think about is how he can't wait to go home, to you and that thing caged inside your chest.

There's something that he can do to cure this lovesick, but first, he's searching for a place that can provide him a little privacy and found it inside the small space of the changing room.

Putting his headphones on, he plays the video he took last night and watches it by himself. Instead of finding healing in it, he's only worsening the situation by doing it.

Chan has his cock stiffening inside his jeans to prove it. Knowing that he made the wrong choice, he stops before he caused some damage and gets out of the changing room.

He tries to avert these thoughts elsewhere and when he finally gets a grip of his senses, his phone dinged with a new notification.

It's from you and he's afraid to open it as you attached a file in it.

Chan knows that he is one tap away from making another bad decision but he's just human, he's flawed and weak for you. He opens the message and he reads the first text message.

"To add to your collection," it says.

His heart palpitations yet his finger scrolls down to reveal a video, he clicks on it right away and it's of you, taking your clothes off in front of him whilst he was still sleeping. Then you climbed onto the bed and started touching him as he was deep in his slumber.

It hits him just now. This is probably why he dreamed of you touching him last night, except that he wasn't dreaming at all, he was feeling you touching him all over.

You did not just touch, you took his semi-hard cock out of his boxer and stroked it. You seemed to be enjoying touching him from the smile that didn't wear off even for a second.

Then you bent down on the bed and took him into your mouth.

"Oh, fuc—" Chan quickly stops himself from cursing as he realized that there are people around him.

He presses his lips together as he continues watching the video, this part shows that you were rubbing his cock to your cunt.

This is not what he pictured when you said you wanted to do things to him. Well, he pictured it alright except that he didn't know you will do it when he's asleep and record it. This is even beyond his imagination.

But you know what? He likes it. He likes it so much that he knows for certain he got himself the worst case of lovesick.

He's so deep in it, he loses a little of his sanity whenever he's with you that it's not normal anymore.

Chan is so crazy over you and he can't wait to add this to his secret folder.

Folder 103.

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adragonprinceswhore · 1 month

Text

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter III: Dreams 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: You miss Aemond, yet you can’t stand to be near him. Will performing a new song about your separation make you feel better?

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, possessive Aemond, fighting, smut, oral (f receiving), spanking, thigh riding, P in V, thumb in bum, spit kink, degradation

Word count: 5750 A/N: Thank you always my love @theoneeyedprince ♡

“This is the third day in a row that guy comes in here, orders a coffee, and pretends to work on his laptop as he stares at you”, Alysanne whispers in your ear and points to the silver haired man sitting in the back corner of the campus coffee shop.

He’s clad entirely in black, and his long hair is neatly tied in a low bun at the base of his neck.

“You should go talk to him!”, she urges with a gentle push on your shoulder.

“What? No. He’s not been staring at me”, you shut her nonsense down, slightly embarrassed by your friend's pushiness. Alysanne is such a hopeless romantic; always convinced that the love of your life’s lurking around the next corner, constantly looking for a ‘meet cute’ to thrust you into.

“Oh, come on! He’s definitely been checking you out! Maybe he’s just shy?”, she argues, staring at the stranger unabashedly as he sips his coffee. Her lack of discretion fuels the nerves bubbling inside you, eager to end this embarrassing conversation as soon as possible.

“Aly, please. A guy like that doesn’t get shy. Typical rich fuckboy”

He certainly is good-looking, and probably knows it as well, dark designer clothes a stark contrast to the surrounding patron’s jeans and sweatshirts. He looks to be around your age, a student as well, you’d guess.

Alysanne hums in response, moves to stand by the display of sweets by the register, and places a cinnamon bun on one of the small dishes stacked on the counter.

Before your protests stop her, she walks towards where the stranger is sitting, a wide smile plastered on her face,

“Hi there! My lovely friend and coworker over there made these earlier today. Would you like one?”

Her voice is unnaturally cheery as she places the dish on the table next to the stranger's laptop.

He looks up, nods stiffly in confirmation, and quietly mumbles a “thank you” before quickly returning to type on the keyboard, eyes again on the screen.

“Would you like to talk to her? I can ask her to come over here”, Alysanne offers, voice still upbeat, so energetic it nearly comes across as intrusive.

The stranger seems slightly thrown off by her forwardness. He looks up at her in surprise, but stays silent.

To anyone else, his stoicism and unfriendly demeanour would be enough reason to leave him be. But not Alysanne, who turns around to catch your eye and gesticulates for you to come over with an exaggerated wave of her hand.

From behind the register, you’d watched the scene unfold in horror, certain that your friend would embarrass you to the point where ‘rich fuckboy’ would tell everyone on campus about what a freak you are.

You slowly make your way over, eyes boring holes into Alysanne as you force yourself to smile, dreading the inevitable faked niceties you’ll have to exchange with the strange, silver-haired man.

His face is even prettier up-close.

High cheekbones, strong jawline, sharp nose, beautiful eye-

Your gaze stops at his left eye. The baby blue iris is covered by a thin mist of white, and a red, angry scar slashes through the socket, starting at his forehead and ending at cheekbone.

“Hope you like it”, you blurt out, trying to grab Alysanne’s hand and tug her away from the unbelievably awkward interaction. She’s still smiling, dodging your hand while her attention stays on the stranger in front of you,

“Would you like her number?”

Alysanne persistence causes dread to pool in your gut. God, she could be so forward it was disturbing; completely ignoring what you thought to be common social decency.

Your heart is hammering in your chest as the stranger hums at your friend’s question,

“Actually, I wanted to ask you about the open mic last week. Did you write that song?”

“‘Planets of the Universe’? Um, yes, but it’s not really finished, um, I mean, I just sang it for fun, I was kinda drunk last Friday..”

Your babbling reflects how the stranger makes you feel; nervous and unsure. His face is impassive, and his tone so unemotional it borders on stern.

You only performed that silly song because your friends were pushy and you were buzzing on way too many margaritas. Why does he care about who wrote it?

“You’re not a guitarist, I assume?”, he asks and you notice the corners of his lips briefly turn upwards, as if to prevent a smile from breaking out.

God, the audacity of this rich fuckboy.

“No, but like I said, it was just for fun”, you bite back.

You don’t care for his condescending tone, or his efforts to make you feel bad about your sub-par guitar skills. Does he not understand what ‘just for fun’ means?

The stranger’s gaze is still locked on you as he hums in response. He stares with an intensity that leaves you feeling even more unsettled.

“You’ve got a very unique voice”

The unexpected compliment takes you by surprise, and a warmth spreads over your face; heating up your cheeks.

“My siblings and I play a bit of music on the side, for fun” he says with an emphasis on the last part, mimicking you, “I think your voice would go well with the sound we’re trying to create”

He sounds very matter-of-fact, like he’s offering you a business proposal. You notice something shine in his intense gaze; something inviting that makes it hard for you to concentrate on what he says.

“The song you performed has great potential, with a proper guitarist backing you up, that is. If you’re interested, we’re meeting up tomorrow night”

You’re briefly lost for words, not expecting him to be so forward. Alysanne is practically vibrating with excitement next to you, glancing over at you with a wide smile and big, expectant eyes.

“Sure, I’ll stop by after work”

Your infatuation with Aemond started slow.

Essentially, it was the small things he did that pushed you to the realisation that he isn’t just some ‘rick fuckboy’, but a quite caring and sensitive man. Albeit with a layer of stoicism obscuring his more tender side.

Things like him insisting that he needs to walk you home after band practice, even if it’s still bright outside. Or him picking you up in his car when it rains, so you ‘don’t catch a cold’. Or him offering to help you with coursework, surprising you with detailed, hand-written notes tucked in between the pages of your textbook.

Aemond is caring in such a genuine way, always asking you how your studies are going, how work at the campus cafe is like, if you’d eaten anything. Always straight-to-the-point. And when you answer, he listens to you with such intensity, you’d think whatever comes out of your mouth is of grave importance. For the most part, it’s not.

You soon find yourself looking forward to seeing him, heart skipping a beat every time he picks you up after you've finished your shift at the cafe. He always waited outside of the cafe, observing you tidying up through the shop window with a cigarette glowing between his fingers.

When he asks you one day if you’d like to grab dinner after practice, you eagerly accept his invitation, trying your hardest to hide the excitement you feel as he says a quick goodbye to his brother and sister before leading you out of the studio you used for practice.

It’s not a date, not really, yet when you sit next to Aemond in that dimly lit booth at the rather posh Yi-Ti-inspired restaurant he’d picked, it sure feels like one.

That night, after sharing a bottle of wine, your face is warm and you’re filled with alcohol-infused confidence. As you talk animatedly about your favourite musician, Aemond regards you with a small smile playing on his lips, eyes intensely meeting yours to take in all your telling him. You feel a sudden urge to kiss him, and though it is chaste and unplanned; a result of your slight intoxication, you feel mortified as you pull back, ready to apologise for placing your lips on his without consent. Before you have a chance, he places a hand on your cheek and pulls your face back towards his, kissing you passionately, though his lips are soft and gentle.

As you pull away, eyes still closed and mind lost in the bliss of your first kiss, you hear Aemond murmur a quiet “finally”.

As a partner, Aemond seems to study you just as diligently as he studies everything else.

He quickly picks up on your favourite things.

If you’d been admiring a particular flower when you passed by the flower shop on your way to campus, you’d later find a bouquet waiting for you at home. When you went to museums and exhibitions together, he’d lean in next to you, one hand gently on your waist and soft lips right by your ear, and tell you everything he knew about the artist or artwork in front of you. Later, he’d buy you postcards of the paintings you’d shown particular fascination with, so you could decorate your bedroom wall with them.

Though he claimed that his knowledge of the arts simply stemmed from being a history major, explaining that “art is one of the greatest insights we have to previous decades”, you have a strong suspicion he actually knows so much because there’s a secret love for the arts tucked away inside him, where he keeps the more sensitive parts of his soul.

Sometimes you’re privy to that too.

Like the time he wanted to take you out to a fancy restaurant downtown to celebrate your six month anniversary. Being a student, you didn’t really have money to spend on anything besides rent and food, meaning that you hadn’t been able to reciprocate the lovely gifts Aemond had given you since you first got together.

Determined to give him something meaningful, you purchase a small frame from the local charity shop, print out some pictures you’d taken together from the university library, and put together a little collage of your time as a couple.

You include a message on the back of it, thanking him for everything he’s done for you; for being such a caring boyfriend.

As you timidly hand him your homemade gift at the luxurious restaurant, you feel a storm of unease swirl within you, suddenly overcome with embarrassment that you couldn’t get him anything nicer.

Aemond’s eyes light up in a way you’d hardly seen before.

He turns the gift over in his hand, admiring the photo collage and reading the little message on the back.

Grabbing your hand, he looks into your eyes and says a quiet “thank you”, and the gravity and sincerity of his voice lets you know that he appreciates the simple gift more than he can put into words.

The coming week you stick to the same set list; kicking off each performance with ‘The Chain’ and finishing with ‘Go Your Own Way’. You’d like to pretend that the performances got easier as time went on, but that would be a lie.

Each night, you’re forced to sing Aemond’s self-pitying words; ‘if I could, I’d give you my world’. You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes each time. What made him incapable of ‘giving you his world’ when you were married? He made it sound like he had no part in your divorce; like all he did was try and love you while you broke his heart.

Fuck that.

He broke your heart. And he kept breaking it. Every fucking night he made you sing his martyr complex bullshit.

It wasn’t anything new, not really. This is how it so often went when you fought as a married couple, it had just taken a new form. The bones of it are the same; Aemond is upset and shuts you out, you try to reason with him and get burnt.

There’s something about his attitude when you find yourselves in a fight. He could turn so condescending, berating you for your emotions. Like he’s better than you for not letting them get the best of him; for not shouting or crying.

He thinks showing that something hurts him is a sign of weakness. That he’s too smart to let his insecurities and doubts overtake his senses. So he can pretend he doesn’t feel such unbecoming emotions.

Even when they prove too strong to push down.

Aemond has been quiet for the entire trip back home, jaw shut tight and eyes refusing to meet yours.

You know something’s off in the way his usual stoicism doesn’t feel natural, but forced. He’s holding something back, keeping something from you, and you can’t figure it out for the life of you.

As you enter your flat, he finally breaks the silence.

“Did you like that?”

His voice is colder than you’re used to. You recognise the tone though, from when he’s had enough of Aegon’s endless shenanigans.

You step out of your heels and turn around to face him, “Like what? The party?”

His face is set in a frown and he irritably clicks his tongue at your obliviousness,

“You know what I mean, don’t play dumb”

You really have no idea what could’ve prompted his sour mood, so you stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. You don’t feel like playing these games with him; they won’t lead anywhere.

If he’d just tell you what made him upset, you could solve the issue and move on.

He sighs at the lack of answer, “You liked all that attention, didn’t you?”

Oh.

He’s jealous.

“Oh come on, Aemond, this is great for the band! We’re getting recognition! We’re recording our first album!”

You don’t want him to rob you off the excitement you’d felt today, talking to one of Westeros biggest record labels and finally getting the recognition you’d worked so hard for.

He turns to face you, features still stern as he backs you into the wall,

“But did you like it? The way that guy from the record label was eyeing you?”, he asks again.

You know Aemond has a tendency to get protective of you; fussing over you and insisting that you listen to him. And when he’s caring, and when you feel anxious, it feels comforting to have someone protect you so fiercely. But you’re not a child, and he doesn’t have to treat you as one.

“Why would I like it?”

Your challenge makes him move closer. You see the way his pupil is blown wide, the heat in his gaze radiating off him.

“I think you did. I think you enjoy the attention”

It’s almost laughable; the fact that Aemond Targaryen, undoubtedly one of the most alluring people you’ve ever met, feels threatened by some sleazy guy from a record label. How could he think some guy flirting with you would affect your affection for him even in the slightest?

Still, there’s something intriguing about the dark look in his eye. It’s so passionate; the way he observes you. Like he wants to devour you. Punish you. Claim you.

It sparks something alight inside you. You want to match his fire.

“Maybe I did”

You have to bite your lip to prevent a smirk from breaking out. Will he fall for the provocation?

Aemond’s eyes narrow. They travel from your face down to your body, and his arms come up to cage you against the wall of your hallway,

“You like tormenting me, is that it?”, he asks lowly and presses the tip of his nose to the side of your face, trailing it down your cheek.

You wrap your arms around his neck, lowering your lips to press kisses onto his neck,

“Yes”, you say against his skin, a light chuckle escaping your lips.

It’s almost cute when he gets like this, and so flattering in the most twisted way. He’s just as enchanted by you as you are by him.

He startles you by pulling away, grabbing you by your waist and flipping your body so you’re suddenly facing the wall.

He rucks up the short skirt of your cocktail dress with much more force than necessary and a firm smack lands on your ass. The sudden sting of pain makes you inhale sharply and you feel your pulse elevate with excitement.

Behind you, Aemond drops to his knees, kisses your stinging backside, and pulls at the flimsy material of your thong until it tears in two, falling to the floor.

His insatiable display causes desire to pulse within you; an ache that nestles itself between your thighs and beats as fast as your heart.

Pushing on your lower back, he urges you to lean forward as he continues to soothe the aching flesh of your ass with sweet kisses.

The chill air of the room feels strange against your hot, wet cunt, and you wish he’d touch you in the place you needed him most. The place that painfully pounds with want for him.

As if he could read your mind, Aemond grabs the front of your thighs with his large, warm hands and he presses his face against your exposed cunt, unwilling to waste any more time as he swipes his tongue over your swollen clit.

You moan in gratitude and your forehead falls to make contact with the wall in front of you, the sweat of your forehead sticking to the cool surface.

He knows exactly how to work you; how to make you squirm and tense up and reach your peak in no time.

With each movement of his tongue against your clit, you feel your peak grow closer; an embarrassingly fast release only your beloved could elicit.

As you lose yourself in the pleasure, and your hips begin to move in tandem with Aemond’s tongue, his debauched kisses lessen, and he pulls away from your cunt, wiping his sticky face against the back of your thigh.

You let out a frustrated whine, turn around to face him, and look down at him, still on his knees.

“That’s just cruel, Aemond”

He looks so beautiful kneeling in front of you, long hair dishevelled and cheeks flustered pink.

“Maybe I like tormenting you as well”

He still has that darkness dancing in his eyes, but now accompanied by the playful grin that’s spreading across his face. He stands, leans in so closely your body gets pushed against the wall behind you, and places one of his legs between your naked thighs,

“Beg me to fuck you”

He rocks his jeans-clad thigh against your exposed core as he makes his demand; blue colour quickly darkening from the stain of your arousal.

You throw your head back and moan at the pleasurable friction, the harshness of the fabric providing wonderful relief to your aching clit. Your hips quickly meet the rhythm of his thigh, and when he lowers his face to bite at your nipple through the thin material of your dress, you feel your previously denied release approach once more.

You move yourself more forcefully against his thigh, and as your movements turn sloppy from pleasure tightening inside you, he pulls away yet again.

You know you look like a mess with your hair frizzy from the friction of the wall, spit covering the fabric over your nipple, and the lower part of your body fully exposed; inner thighs sticky from arousal.

“Aemond, please”, you whine as he straightens up, face wholly entertained by your miserable state.

“Beg me to fuck you”, he repeats, this time slower and with emphasis on each word.

You bite your lip and look at him. You can see the hardness of his cock straining against his jeans, but you know he’ll never relent; never give you what you want until you give him what he wants.

“Please”, you plead, hands moving forward his zipper to undo his trousers.

He tuts and slaps your hands away,

“Beg”, he repeats, face returning to its previous, stern expression.

You’d like to think you’re as good as him at playing these games. But you’re not. You don’t have the patience.

“Please fuck me Aemond. Please make me come, please make me feel good, please stretch me out on your cock, please-”

Your pathetic surrender is cut off by his lips on yours, kissing you passionately, stealing your breath.

Pulling down his zipper, he takes his length in hand; rock hard and glistening with arousal. He pushes your body up against the wall and you quickly catch on, wrapping your legs around him as he enters you in one swift motion.

“Fuck! Thank you!”, you cry out when he finally gives you what you want, and an amused snort espaces his nose.

Aemond wastes no time in ravishing you and sets a brutal pace, pelvis repeatedly hitting your clit as his cock hits your g-spot. You’re unable to do much more than to just take it; take the mind-numbing pleasure he’s forcing upon you.

For the third time, your peak is within reach, so close your cunt starts to tighten around Aemond’s cock. To your dismay, his pace slows, and you’re back to begging,

“Please, I’m so close. Please let me come Aemond”

He pulls out, smiles at the devastated frown on your face, and turns you around once more.

This time, he presses your body against the small side table by the front door, pushing his hand on the back of your head so that the side of your face makes contact with the wooden surface, ass prettily propped up and glistening entrance waiting for him.

He presses the slick tip of his cock against your leaking hole, and pauses without entering. His large form looms over you as his hand reaches for your face, thumb stroking your lower lip, pulling it down to reveal your teeth,

“Who do you belong to?”

His voice is lower, and calmer, than before. You look up at him; at his lust-filled eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

You. Always you.

“You”

Aemond’s thumb is still on your lower lip. He leans down and pushes his length fully into you again, making you let out a cry in blissful relief.

God it feels so good.

You see him purse his lips together, spit collecting between them, and he slowly lets it drip down to where his thumb is.

Onto your lower lip, your tongue, your teeth.

He smears his spit around your lips and tongue with his thumb, pace of his hips picking up to thrust into you harder. The table beneath you rocks against the wall aggressively loud.

“Would you let anyone else fuck you like this?”, he asks, trailing his spit-soaked thumb down your body, stopping between your asscheeks to push at your puckered hole. “Never”, you assure, moaning as he pushes his thumb in, never ceasing the pace he’s set as he fucks you on the table. “Didn’t think so. You’re my little slut. Mine. No one else will ever see you as fucking cockdrunk as I do”

Maybe it’s the heat of his tone. The dark, possessive passion that excites you, even in its volatility.

Maybe it’s the way he knows your body. How he can turn you into a begging, pathetic mess by the briefest of touches.

It’s hard to decipher what makes your orgasm feel so utterly consuming, but when it hits, and your body shakes from the force of it, you know that no one else will ever have this effect on you.

You. Always you.

You’ve made it a habit to go back to your hotel room between the sound check and the show, not able to bear spending more time around Aemond than absolutely necessary.

Both of you had tried to keep up with the cordial act, but even Erryk had started to catch on to how forced each of your interactions felt. Whenever you or Aemond addressed the other, everyone around you tense up and the air feels thick; like you’re all just waiting for what’s bubbling beneath the surface to finally erupt.

Tonight, as you’re getting ready for the tour’s fifth stop in White Harbor, no amount of breathing exercises seem to lessen your nerves, making your hands clammy and heart flimmer in anxious anticipation.

You’re finally going to perform one of your new songs for Rumours.

What if the fans hate it?

Writing has helped you deal with the aftermath of your separation; a tedious effort to make the painful end of your relationship into something meaningful. A song about lost love.

What if it sounds awful live?

Recording separately means that this will be the first time the band actually plays the song, as opposed to each member recording their own part in solitude.

The song sounded good in post-production. It’ll sound great live too.

You try to repeat the comforting phrase to yourself as you spot Aemond and Alys in your peripheral vision; her arms around his neck, his lips coming down to brush against her cheek.

You don’t know if you’d rather barf or cry at the display, but when Aemond’s seeing eye briefly searches for yours, your stomach turns in disgust.

The intro of your new song starts to play; upbeat drums accompanied by a melancholic guitar melody. Aemond plays it flawlessly, just like you knew he would.

This is it. Your time to shine; to actualise the pain that’s been wearing you down for the past months. To make it into something that means something.

Your music.

‘Now there you go again, you say, you want your freedom’

‘Well who am I to keep you down?’

You don’t want to look at Aemond, don’t want to mimic the staring contest he challenges you to each time he sings ‘The Chain’ or ‘Go Your Own Way’.

You’re not doing this for him, you’re doing this for yourself. To make sense of the suffering he’s caused you. You’re doing it for the fans; all those who can resonate with what you’re singing.

‘But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness’

‘Like a heartbeat drives you mad in the stillness of remembering what you had’

‘And what you lost’

Oh but gods, do you want to throw him a quick glance though.

See hurt in his eye.

See his jaw tick in anger at your words.

‘Thunder only happens when it’s raining’

‘Players only love you when they’re playing’

Now you understand why he wanted you to do backup vocals on his new songs. You feel so powerful as you make him sing your lyrics, a sudden rush of hubris getting the best of you as you steal a glance of him.

‘They say women, they will come and they will go’

‘When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know’

You’re disappointed to find him in his usual state, stoic face turned away from you.

The recent rage-filled, passionate tone his voice had adopted is gone. He sounds just as calm and precise as he usually does.

‘Now here I go again, I see the crystal vision’

‘I keep my visions to myself’

‘It’s only me who wants to wrap around your dreams’

‘Have you any dreams you’d like to sell?’

‘Dreams of loneliness like a heartbeat drives you mad’

‘In the stillness of remembering what you had’

‘And what you lost’

Like the previous nights, you’re in a rush to get back to your hotel room as soon as the show ends.

As are your bandmates; no one really enjoys the tension that seems to be a permanent feature whenever you are all in the same room.

As you’re about to jump into a taxi with Helaena outside of the venue, you realise that you forgot the tote bag you keep your notebooks and music sheets in backstage. You tell her to go ahead and quickly make your way back to retrieve your forgotten bag.

A security guard lets you back in and you spot your tote immediately, laying on one of the many cheap fold-out tables lining the walls of the room. As you make your way towards it, you hear someone clear their throat in the other corner of the room.

You’ve no idea what he wants, but you turn around in an instance, leaving your bag on the table.

Aemond is sitting by himself in a dark corner of the large room, stomping out a cigarette onto the silver ashtray he's holding in his left hand. He places it on the ground and leans back in his seat,

“I never said that, you know”.

His voice is low. He sounds tired.

“Said what?”

You’re still sadistically disappointed by the fact that he’d acted so indifferent during your performance of ‘Dreams’, and it reflects in your voice. He has a talent of bringing it out of you.

“I never said ‘women come and go’, or whatever. The reporter said it”

His voice grows more irksome with each word, matching yours.

Sure, he hadn’t said it. But he might as well have.

“Whatever, Aemond”, you sigh, too tired to engage in pointless discussion with him. You turn to leave, reaching for your bag, but he stops you once again,

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t perform that song again”.

You let out a startled, joy-less laugh at his audacity, “Too bad”

“Then change the lyrics. It’s obviously about our… relationship”

You can sense strain in his voice. He’s holding something back.

Maybe you finally got to him.

“So are your new songs”, you counter.

He is such a hypocrite, it’s almost laughable. An unbecoming characteristic of his that reared its ugly head more frequently as your relationship got worse.

“I never say they are though. You’re quoting me, hard to assume it could be about anyone else”

His voice is low and dark, you have to focus to properly hear him.

“Thought you didn’t say that?”

You have to bite the inside of your lower lip to keep yourself from grinning as you add,

“Maybe the song is about the reporter?”

The provocation works. Aemond swiftly stands up, seeing eye dark and threatening as his voice grows louder,

“My songs aren’t filled with blatant lies, you’re calling me names and shit”

His nostrils are flaring as he breathes heavily, hand flexing in an attempt to stifle his rage.

You’d got to him.

“You can’t be for real, Aemond! Every fucking time you perform your new songs you're staring at me on stage, singing about how I can ‘go my own, lonely way’! You have no right dictating what I write or how I express myself”.

He’d gotten to you too. You can’t hide your irritation any longer, a whole week being in his insufferable presence proving to be too much.

It’s his turn to throw a condescending laugh your way.

“Well, you’re the one who kept going on about how lonely you were”

Back when you were still together, when the fights had became a permanent, unavoidable recurrence, you had accused Aemond of never truly letting you in, leaving you feeling lonely in your relationship.

But there’s a difference between feeling disconnected from your partner, and being unable to be on your own.

“You couldn’t be alone for a second, Aemond, that’s how fucking lonely you are. How long did it take you to hook up with Alys? 3 days!?”

“Because you left me!”, he shouts back.

And there it is; the anger that he pretends he doesn't have within himself. The ugly, raw emotion he thinks he’s too good to let overtake his senses.

His voice isn’t cold anymore.

His face isn’t indifferent.

His eyes shine with heartbreak, but so do yours.

“You chased me away with your fucking obsessive behaviour! You deserved to be left!”

Sometimes when you fought when you were married, you’d hold yourself back, still trying to protect Aemond’s feelings to some degree by not purposefully hurting him just because you were angry.

Not anymore.

He grimaces slightly at your words and you feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

He deserves it.

You can’t bear to look at him, and you can’t hear anything either, heartbeat thumping in your ears so loudly it’s giving you a headache.

If you stay, and see that the fire in his eye has been extinguished by regret, you might cave in.

You can’t.

So you turn around, grab your bag in a haste and storm out of the door, rushing to get hold of a taxi on the busy street by the venue.

You hold it together in the car ride to the hotel. You thank the driver and offer him a tip, you enter the building and go to the elevator, smile at an elderly couple who engage you in some polite smalltalk about the weather.

It’s not until you enter your hotel room and lock the door behind you that you allow the tears to fall.

They seem endless, and all you want to do is crawl into bed and sleep.

Seeing the empty space, the empty bed, makes you feel so lonely a stinging pain goes through your chest. You're pulled back to the memories of living with Aemond, coming back home to him; sleeping in the same bed as him.

You miss him so much it hurts. Not the person you’d just had a fight with backstage. You miss the Aemond he was before; your Aemond.

You think about the Aemond in the museum, who’d tell you about the history of the Water Gardens and Prince Maron Martell.

You think about the Aemond that kissed your forehead before each show.

You think about the Aemond that loved you.

You go to your closet, stretch your arm all the way to the back, and search for what you know to be there. Your hand finds the soft sweatshirt and you pull it out from the dark corners of your hotel room closet, quickly pulling off all of your clothes until you’re standing in nothing but your underwear.

Aemond’s uni hoodie still smells like him. You cry harder, uglier, as you put it on, burying your nose in the fabric and inhaling deeply.

Maybe the Aemond you miss still exists in your dreams.

You get under the duvet, nose still nuzzled in the soft fabric and body shaking from the violent sobs leaving your body, and fall asleep.

A/N: Before you ask, no. She doesn’t know if Aemond met Alys exactly three days after their separation. She’s exaggerating for emphasis, as one often does when fighting. The point is that he “moved on” suspiciously fast.

Planets of the Universe is a demo song that never made it onto Rumours, but it so good; very raw and real. TY for reading 🩵

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #modern aemond #my fics #rumours

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optiblog · 1 month

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OPTİVİSER - GOLD

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Laptop Recommendation

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sinswithpleasure · 5 months

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The After School “Student Bonding Experience”

------------------------- Pairing: NingNing x Winter Part 1 || Part 2 || <?> Also available on AO3! ------------------------- A/N: A big thank you to @majorblinks, @iznsfw, @msafterhours, @i-am-lifeform24, and @capslocked for the help in this draft, from beta-reading to being just generally an advice column. This was massively fun to write. -------------------------

Yizhuo doesn’t know when it started, but it’s been nothing but natural for both her and Minjeong to climb onto Yizhuo’s bed with Yizhuo’s laptop already logged in to Pornhub every time they have their weekly sleepover. Both girls make quick work of their clothing—Minjeong drops her shorts at the foot of the bed, and she has her thin singlet in her right hand now, throwing it on top of her shorts. Yizhuo does the same with her clothing—her pajamas are discarded at the foot of the bed as both Minjeong and her get comfortable with the many pillows on the bed. Minjeong already has a hand lazily circling her clit, soft breaths escaping her lips as she looks at the erotic thumbnails on the screen.

“What do you wanna watch?” Yizhuo asks, unsure where to look, between her laptop, and Minjeong’s body. “I’m fine with anything.”

“Oh, that looks really hot.” Yizhuo looks at where Minjeong’s pointing, and at the end of her finger, a preview of a schoolgirl in uniform grinding against a table playing on the screen. She clicks on it, and both girls start to get comfortable, leaning back on the pillows behind them. On the screen, the camera follows a schoolgirl, dressed in a typical Japanese-style high school uniform, entering an empty classroom. Eventually, exposition starts—both girls are entranced by the story unfolding in front of them: it’s quiet hours after school, and the girl wants to try something new.

It doesn’t take long for the action to begin. When the girl on the screen begins to unbutton her blouse, exposing her small chest encased in a white bra, Yizhuo hears Minjeong sigh next to her, and she turns her gaze over to her best friend, whose gaze is fixed on the screen, watching in rapt attention. Both of her hands are busy now, with her right still circling her clit, but her left now beginning to palm a petite breast. The throb of need deep in Yizhuo’s core surprises her—she admires how hot Minjeong looks next to her, and she looks away, heart pounding. It’s not even anything much—she’s just softly fondling herself—and yet Yizhuo’s already so wet just watching. She can’t believe herself. What is this—

“Hey, what’re you dreaming about?” Yizhuo jumps when Minjeong elbows her. “She’s about to masturbate! Quit that and watch it with me!”

Guilt festers in Yizhuo’s heart when she realizes she’s thinking lustfully about Minjeong again. She pushes it aside almost instantly to focus on the video, and she’s greeted with a hot sight—the girl on the screen has lost her blouse and bra, and the skirt she has on has the hem shoved into the waistband on the front, with her panties on full display to the lens, a wet spot already visible on the front. Yizhuo watches as the girl softly plants her clothed mound onto the surface of the table, right at the corner, and she begins to grind against the surface, moaning in pleasure.

A rush of slick flows from Yizhuo’s core as she admires the girl on screen. It’s there that she realizes something that makes her bite her lip in surprise and arousal—the actress on the screen vaguely resembles Minjeong, especially the body. She glances over to double check, and she softly moans when she confirms her suspicion, her core throbbing again. The girl next to her and the girl on the screen might as well be the same person, at least neck down, and Yizhuo feels a rush of wetness coat her fingers when she rubs against her sex, teasing the entrance with two fingers. In her head, it’s Minjeong on screen now, grinding her clothed pussy on the table in her uniform skirt. Once again, Yizhuo’s eyes roam next to her, and she can’t stop looking at Minjeong now, with her fingers plunging into her hole, soft moans of pleasure escaping her open mouth as she teases her nipples with her other hand. The girl on the screen is doing that as well, and Yizhuo just feels dizzy hearing the sounds of sex around her—two sets of moans from Minjeong and from the speakers of her laptop, as well as the slick sounds of Minjeong’s fingers plunging into herself.

The burning need that sears through her body prompts her to mirror Minjeong’s actions—she pushes her fingers into her hole, and she begins to match her best friend’s pace. The moan she lets out is obscene, and she can’t stop her vocalizations of pleasure when she pulls her fingers out, the friction of her digits rubbing against her walls just so delicious. On the screen, pseudo-Minjeong is furiously grinding down on the table now, unabashedly moaning as she pushes herself closer and closer to orgasm, and the real Minjeong next to Yizhuo is in a similar state. With every thrust of her fingers into herself, she’s moaning, writhing, hips bucking to fuck her own hand as she watches the porn video, and her shoulder lightly brushes Yizhuo’s every time she moves. She swears she’s going crazy—as if Minjeong’s touches weren’t enough already, she can smell Minjeong’s natural scent, and it just arouses her so much.

“Fuck, it’s not comfortable—”

Minjeong shifts herself for comfort, pressing herself right against Yizhuo’s shoulder now, instead of just the occasional contact. The direct touch only sends her into a frenzy internally—Minjeong feels so warm to the touch, and she just smells so nice, and it all goes straight down to her leaking core, her juices flowing freely from her hole. Yizhuo swears she’s staining her bed, but she doesn’t care—she’s so turned on, and she can’t stop staring at Minjeong now, the video akin to a forgotten relic at this point. The mix of emotions and sensations is overwhelming—anticipation, guilt, arousal, joy, and fear all wash over Yizhuo in waves, but she can’t stop herself, won’t stop herself from getting off to Minjeong.

“Oh, f—ngh, Ningie, shit!”

Minjeong’s moan of Yizhuo’s name sends a spike of shock and arousal straight to the Chinese girl’s heart and core. She turns her head slightly, and she meets the half-lidded eyes of her best friend, face flushed in red.

“I’m getting close, Ningie, I’m so close to cumming…” Minjeong’s hot breath mingles with Yizhuo’s soft moan, their lips just inches from the other’s. It drives Yizhuo wild—she’s so wet knowing that she could just kiss Minjeong right now, just—

“Me too.” Yizhuo’s shaky voice betrays all of her emotions—she does not sound as calm as she wants herself to sound. However, Minjeong’s too far gone to even notice.

“Ningie, let’s cum together, I wanna cum with you, I wanna cum together with you, I wanna cum together with you Ning, cum with me, cum with me!”

Yizhuo doesn’t even have time to announce her orgasm—it hits her like a truck. Flashes of white take her sight from her, her ears ringing with Minjeong’s words, begging her to ‘cum with me’. In her haze, she thinks she knocks her head against Minjeong’s—she’s not sure at all. What she’s sure of, however, is the sensations of her pleasure exploding outward—it’s hot, it’s wet, and it leaves Yizhuo feeling sticky afterward. In between the flashes of white, glimpses of Minjeong wracked with pleasure next to her as she moans unabashedly, her hips jerking as she grinds her palm down on her clit, prolonging the fleeting pleasure of her orgasm. It’s overwhelming in the best way possible: both girls are so close together, with Minjeong leaning against Yizhuo, the latter so acutely aware of how their heads and shoulders touch, of how good Minjeong smells, of how they’re moaning almost into each other’s mouths, of just how damn close they are.

She wants to melt into Minjeong.

However, that’s impossible, and the best Yizhuo can settle for is watching Minjeong pull her slick fingers out from between her legs, bringing them to her mouth. She watches with unbridled lust as her best friend parts her lips, and she takes her cum-drenched fingers between them, tongue darting out to lick her juices off of her digits, softly moaning at her own taste. Minjeong’s just as messy as she is, strings of slick clinging between the gaps of her fingers as she takes each one into her mouth. Almost unconsciously, Yizhuo’s doing the same now, mirroring Minjeong, tasting her own tangy cum coating her fingers. The fire in her lights up again, and she wishes she was the one licking Minjeong’s cum off of her fi—

“Hey, Ningie…”

Minjeong’s voice is raspy, sultry. Her hot breath brushes against Yizhuo’s ear and cheek, and the way she sounds all goes straight to Yizhuo’s core. Right after what might be the Chinese girl’s most world-shattering orgasm yet, she’s ready to go again just with Minjeong’s sexy voice whispering right into her ear.

“We should do this together.”

“Wha—What?” Yizhuo’s eyes must be bugged out in shock right now. The world almost seems to stop around her, and she thinks she’s broken—there’s no way Minjeong just said what she said.

“I… I wanna masturbate like that in school.” Minjeong whispers, motioning at the screen. “But I…” She falters, biting her lip in nervousness and uncertainty, before she gathers the courage to finish her sentence. “I want to do it only with you.”

Yizhuo combusts. Heat explodes across her body, lust burning deep in her core and washing over her skin, all because of the beautiful girl right in front of her. She doesn’t know how to put what she wants to do in any clean terms—

Ning Yizhuo wants to fuck Kim Minjeong. But she can’t.

“W-What are you saying? We… What?”

“First day of school—well, after school—me and you stay back. Let everyone leave. It’s the first day—no one stays. Then…” Minjeong trails off, biting her lips, softly sighing. Yizhuo stares at her best friend, dizzy, dazed, unsure where to look, eyes darting everywhere, until she notices Minjeong’s hand between her thighs again, fingers curling into her hole once more. Almost instinctively, Yizhuo’s masturbating as well, something that doesn’t escape Minjeong’s notice.

“T-Then what, Minjeongie?”

“Then… Then…” Minjeong gasps, biting her lips, closing her eyes tightly in pleasure. “Then we strip down to our panties, and grind on your desk. I… We can watch each other, just like… just like this, just like now.”

The filthy words drive Yizhuo insane once again. With a loud moan, she penetrates herself with her fingers, grinding on her own clit with the heel of her palm. She sees, hears Minjeong doing the same, and they shift closer to each other on the bed, fascinated by each other now, laptop long forgotten.

“I-Is that a yes?” Minjeong’s voice is small, unsure, but still so sexy.

Yizhuo’s insane.

“Yes. Let’s… let’s do it.” The Chinese girl breathes, a whine caught in her throat when she presses against her G-spot. “Let’s do it together.”

“Mmh. Together.”

With both girls still sensitive from earlier, it doesn’t take much for them to get close to a second orgasm already. Minjeong’s grinding down on her own hand again, softly moaning every time she thrusts her fingers into herself, and Yizhuo’s hungry eyes devour the erotic sight in front of her. The very same hunger burns behind Minjeong’s eyes as well—they rake over Yizhuo’s sensual curves, over the swell of her breasts and the dark brown nubs atop the flesh, taut with arousal, across her tight tummy that she loves to show off in cute crop tops, along her long legs, her meaty thighs, and right at her core now, where Yizhuo has two fingers plunging into herself, slick dripping all over her thighs and leaking onto the bed sheet, tingles spreading across her skin when Minjeong’s eyes meet hers. Their foreheads touch now, hot breaths all over each other’s lips, moaning into each other’s mouths.

“You’re so hot, Ningie…”

Minjeong’s deep, sexy voice has Yizhuo leaking more slick between the gaps of her fingers. She’s already so close, so dangerously close to her second peak, and Minjeong is driving her crazier and crazier with every word.

“I… I love watching you masturbate. It makes me so fucking wet…”

The broken moan Yizhuo releases is sinful. Before she can even finish processing the ramifications of Minjeong’s sentences, she’s already speaking again.

“A-Am I hot, Ningie? Do you… Do you love watching me touch myself too?”

“Yes, yes I do, you’re so hot, so fucking hot, Minjeongie, I—” The words tumble out of the Chinese girl’s mouth uncontrollably. The pure honesty is just what Minjeong wants to hear, and the beaming grin on her face depicts her joy amidst her arousal.

“Good, then… then keep looking at me, keep watching me.” The Korean girl takes a short pause, biting her lip as she deliberates over her next sentence, and then she spits it out anyway, her voice shaking with uncertainty. “Keep watching me until… until we… we cum together.”

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh, Minjeongie, f—!”

Minjeong’s words go straight down between Yizhuo’s legs, and she tries to tear away her fingers from herself. However, she’s too far gone now, with Minjeong having pushed her over the edge with that final sentence. Yizhuo never finishes her exclamation—it ends with a broken cry instead. She freezes as stars explode across her vision, and a loud scream rips through her throat as her hips buck, the tension all over her body finally snapping. With every jerk of her body, streams of Yizhuo’s juices gush out from her pussy, streaks of wetness staining her sheets as she rubs circles on her clit in an attempt to prolong the pleasure of her orgasm. Spray after spray of her cum soaks the cloth beneath her, the cathartic release she so craves finally upon her as she goes through her climax. The world around her melts away in pleasure—but in that haze, Yizhuo realizes the one thing she can’t tear herself from: Minjeong. Minjeong’s body, Minjeong’s voice, Minjeong’s words, Minjeong’s features—all of them blend together as one, the only thing Yizhuo can focus on now. The moan of Minjeong’s name that leaves Yizhuo’s lips is involuntary, uncontrolled. Yizhuo repeats it like a mantra—it’s how she tethers herself to the real world as she rides through her high.

Minjeong doesn’t last a second longer after Yizhuo. The sight of her best friend orgasming is what pushes her over the edge—Minjeong watches as Yizhuo’s hips buck, the first spray of her cum gushing from between her fingers to drench the sheets, and she sees her best friend fall to the pleasure. Immediately, she’s following suit—her scream dies in her throat, body writhing as she rolls onto her back, hips jerking with every burst of orgasmic pleasure that pulses across her body from her core. Dimly, Minjeong feels her cum drench her fingers, stream after stream of it leaking down her index and pinky fingers as she thrusts her middle and ring fingers over and over into herself to prolong her pleasure. Every brush of her clit with the heel of her palm draws more and more squirt out of her, her cum pooling between her thighs and staining the sheets beneath her as well. Both girls enjoy their orgasms next to each other, lost in the pleasure yet still so aware of the person right next to them.

Eventually, both girls do come down from their highs. Yizhuo and Minjeong lie next to each other, panting in exhaustion, minds on overdrive thinking about the other. Yizhuo swears she’s hypersensitive right now—she feels the heat rolling off Minjeong in waves, she senses every dip in the bed as Minjeong shifts, and when Minjeong’s hand brushes against her skin, hot flashes of arousal and want rush all over her again.

“Thank you, Ningie.”

Yizhuo feels the soft press of Minjeong’s lips on her cheek—

Minjeong just kissed me.

An explosion occurs in Yizhuo’s chest. Minjeong has never kissed her before. Ever. Yet now, she just does it after a mutual self-love session, as if it were nothing. What the f—?!

“Oi, Ningie, are you listening?” Somehow, Minjeong is already up and about, tugging at Yizhuo’s sheets.

“Huh—?”

“I said we gotta change the sheets! We… um, I… we made messes just now… Sorry.”

Somehow, Yizhuo finds it in her to shelve her thoughts for later. Both girls change the sheets and go for a shower, which remains chaste, as much as Yizhuo doesn’t want it to be, her ruined mind replaying instance after instance of her session with Minjeong, her body still wracked with arousal long after, even when she gets into bed.

“Goodnight, Ningie.”

“Goodnight, Minjeongie.”

Yizhuo doesn’t get any sleep that night.

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