#v oneshots

[say-al0e]

Electric Touch

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18, Minors DNI!

Summary: Following your marriage to Prince Aemond, you did not imagine there would be a bedding ceremony. Nor did you imagine yourself falling so quickly for the one-eyed prince. But you quickly learned he was more than met the eye. | Ft. Anon request for "“What part of I want you and only you do you not understand?” + “Love makes you weak but, god, I’d rather be weak with you by my side than face a life without you.” Warnings: Bedding ceremony, PinV, guarded Aemond, Aegon is an asshole (briefly, then he's gone), one mention of death in childbirth (not graphic, very brief), allusion to Aemond's brothel trip. Anything I missed, let me know and I'll tag it. Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader (wife!Reader) Word Count: 5.1k Requests are Open | HotD Taglist

The fire blazing in Aemond’s eye was not what you expected. It was not fueled by desire, a lust for his new bride or the exciting conquest of claiming your maidenhead as you’d long been warned. It was not bright or joyous, a fire befitting the occasion of your wedding night. Instead, it was dark - angry, a wild blaze threatening to torch everything in its path with little regard for the consequences.

Though your new husband had been nothing but kind to you, polite and even occasionally charming, for the first time since stepping foot into King’s Landing, you finally understood why so many tended to avert their gaze lest they face Aemond’s ire. 

Before you stood Aemond One-Eye, a fierce dragon rider whose presence commanded attention, and you struggled to keep from withering beneath his gaze as you held his dark look with an even one of your own.

Around you, his apartments teemed with life. Drunken revelers laughed as they surged into the room and circled the pair of you, some of them shouting tawdry jokes while others lamented the loss of the right to the first night. Regardless of their mood, it seemed as if every man in the realm fought to be at your side in a room that once felt so spacious but now left you struggling to catch your breath as they began tugging at pieces of your clothing.

As many hands clumsily tugged at well-tied laces and the heavy fabric of your gown, a few highborn ladies - friends you’d made in the short time you’d been at Court - dutifully removed Aemond’s clothes with much less vigor than their husbands or brothers or cousins.

Aegon led the charge, grin on his lips and breath reeking of wine as he leaned in close. Aemond’s gaze faltered for only a moment, turning to his brother and flashing a warning even the drunkest of men could read very clearly, before it returned to you as Aegon pointedly ignored him. Your drunken good-brother chose, instead, to tip your chin with fingers sticky with wine and draw your gaze away from your husband.

“Do not worry, good-sister,” he began, voice loud, despite his performative attempt at a whisper. He spared Aemond a look, eyes glinting with a mirth that bordered on malice - before he returned his gaze to you. “I made sure my brother was well-educated in the art of pleasure but should you find yourself wanting, you need only say the word.”

By design, you were not given the chance to respond. The last of your garments was removed from your body and Aegon released his grip on your chin to grab your waist. 

The sea of revelers parted. Amidst a cacophony of cheers and jeers, a few murmurs as to how it was a shame your father had agreed to wed you to a man they saw as less than whole, Aegon and one of his friends carried you through the crowd and deposited you into Aemond’s bed.

It was only when you were settled amongst the furs and linens that they were all finally ushered out of the room.

If you were honest, it surprised you that Aemond allowed the bedding ceremony in the first place. The idea was put forth by his brother, a suggestion he’d barely blinked an eye at, but it was plain to see just how adversely the entire spectacle affected him as he approached the bed.

Aemond Targaryen, the very image of his house’s beauty and fire, stood before you with his face a mask of composure you had yet to see fully slip. There were cracks, glimpses into the churning abyss that lingered just beneath the calm surface, and you could see them beginning to spread as a jeer from the crowd echoed just beyond the steel and wood of the door.

There was a flash of hurt, a glimpse so brief you felt certain you’d imagined it, before he swallowed and his jaw tensed. He steeled himself, his resolve, and you could see the mask slip back into place.

“My prince,” you began, voice far quieter than you intended as you sat upright to meet his gaze. “I do not-“

A hum escaped your new husband as he stepped closer, pressing a knee into the soft surface beneath you and shaking his head slightly. “We will speak when there is no crowd standing guard just outside, waiting for evidence our marriage has been consummated. For now, we must fulfill our duty as husband and wife.”

There was an edge of finality in his tone, no room left for argument as he reached for you. Though his touch was not harsh, not as insistent or eager as the men who’d taken great joy in stripping you bare, it was firmer than you’d expected. In the weeks of your courtship, he’d lended an arm as you descended the steps in the garden or offered a hand as you climbed them - each touch soft, almost tentative, and as brief as could be considered proper. 

It was wistful, possibly even naive, to believe the softness of his touch was affection or that it would continue as he pressed you back into the pillows. Aemond was not an outwardly affectionate man, that much you knew to be true, nor was he used to being treated so tenderly. His life had been one lived in a gilded cage, acquiescing to everything expected of him with little argument and even less connection. Love would not come easy to him, nor would affection.

Only time would bring him comfort, trust in you and the ability to be vulnerable, so you made no argument as he settled himself over you. 

The dim candlelight made it difficult to see much - and you wondered how Aemond might react if you allowed yourself to savor the sight of him - but you took the brief chance you were offered to study him. Tall, lithe, muscular; he looked every bit the fearsome dragon rider and well-trained swordsman. Pale hair cascaded over his shoulders, a curtain that cast shadows over the sharp features of his face, but you could clearly see the intrigue in his eye as you lifted your hand to gently cradle his jaw.

Had you not been studying him so closely, so desperate to see some glimpse of warmth beneath the cool surface of your new husband, you might’ve missed his sharp inhale or the way his eye narrowed. Had you not been so enthralled by his appearance, you might’ve missed the way he swallowed or the split second he allowed himself to lean into your careful touch before the impassive mask returned.

Friends, some long married with babes while others had just wed, whispered and giggled when they shared what you could expect. Most of your friends lamented the act itself, thankful only that it often seemed to be over quickly,  as many of their husbands were older lords in need of young wives to produce heirs. It seemed that few cared much at all about their wives’ pleasure and you’d wondered throughout your courtship if Aemond - though young, a man of your own age - might prove similar.

Now that the time had come to find out, you still felt wholly uncertain.

For a long moment, Aemond simply studied you. The deep lilac of his eye traced your face, shadowed by his hair and framed by your own locks - now free from the style your handmaids worked so hard to perfect - and his lips parted. He seemed poised to speak, though before he could, the sound of fists pounding the wood of the door broke whatever spell existed in the solace of the room.

Loud jeers from a drunken crowd reminded you both of your purpose, the reason you had been stripped bare for half the kingdom to see, and Aemond was the first to act.

Though you hoped for little and expected even less, Aemond wanted nothing more than to prove everyone wrong. He wanted to prove that he could be a husband, an adequate lover, a man who had everything and more. You had no way of knowing his motivation, not then, but you could see the flame in his eye as his hand fell to your hip.

With the hand still cradling his jaw, you managed to hold him in place as you leaned up and pressed your mouth to his. Since speaking your vows earlier in the night, you’d managed to steal two chaste kisses from your new husband - one just after the ceremony, in the few seconds you had alone before the feast began; the other, tucked in a corner before you were whisked away for the bedding. He responded well to both, stepping just an inch closer and allowing his lips to linger for a long moment, and you were pleased to find that he responded just as well to this kiss.

The ladies at court often lamented their husbands’ lack of skill or desire to share a kiss. They all sighed and confessed that the men found no use for it, no fun in it. It made you wonder if Aemond was humoring you, allowing you the kiss that seemed almost tender in nature, in return for your maidenhead - for your hand, your house’s newly pledged loyalty - but you knew well enough that your new husband was not one to indulge in anything he did not want to.

Hope bloomed, then, just beneath your ribcage that he might, someday, even grow to enjoy it as much as you suddenly found that you did.

Calloused hands began to explore your skin, touch light for a fleeting moment - almost reverent, almost tentative - before it grew steadier, more certain. The tips of his fingers left a path of fire in their wake, his skin always running hotter than anyone you’d ever met, and you nearly expected to find a visible path seared over the expanse of your torso as his hands dipped to your thighs.

As of yet there had been little outward sign of affection from your husband - everything felt like a courtesy, the actions of a well-educated prince, chivalrous out of duty only - and you knew that it might be wishful thinking to believe the slow drag of your husband’s hand up your inner thigh was anything more than slight trepidation. But you swore you could see the anger that burned so bright only moments ago morph into something closer to lust, desire, need.

Aemond’s fingers pressed firm into the plush of your thighs as he parted them and you bit the inside of your cheek to smother your gasp as his sharp gaze finally raked over your bare skin.

For all the wandering eyes, the lustful gazes that burned into your skin as so many lords of the realm crowded into the small room, it struck you in that moment that Aemond waited until you were alone to truly look. He waited until you were pliant beneath him, until you’d sated your own curiosity about him, to allow himself a glance at anything other than your face.

And despite the insistent jeers of the crowd beyond the door, he seemed determined to take you as he wished.

“They are expecting to hear us,” he reminded you as his fingers drew closer to your center. “Do not deprive us all of your charming voice.”

A handful of compliments had been levied at you from your new husband - more in regard to your intelligence than your most beautiful gowns, though one had ended with him calling you beautiful - but you still felt your cheeks heat as his fingers grazed your slit.

The swipe of his fingers was almost clumsy, less self-assured than he always seemed to be, but the thought gave you some comfort. Neither of you could disappoint the other if you were on somewhat equal footing.

Aemond’s touch grew more insistent, more assured, from the moment his fingers grazed the small bundle of nerves that wrenched a gasp from your throat and had your nails pressing into the muscle of his shoulders. He focused there, thumb circling the now aching pearl, as his fingers gathered the increasing slick. The deep lilac of his eye had almost vanished, replaced nearly entirely by lust-blown black, but it remained on your face - watching intently with every noise that spilled from your lips.

As desperately as you wanted to close your eyes, to hide from the intensity in his gaze, you found yourself unable to look away from his face. The sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the barely there flush that set high upon his cheeks; he was beautiful, regal, and you couldn’t help yourself.

“Gevi,” you breathed, hoping the word sounded as effortless falling from your own lips as it did from his. Your thumb brushed his cheek, just beneath his scar, and you could see the flash of an emotion you could not recognize in his eye.

For a moment, he remained silent, fingers slowing to a barely there press, before he tipped his head. Your hand slipped, fell to his jaw, and you realized it was calculated - purposeful - even as his gaze softened. “My clever wife,” he hummed, matter-of-factly, as the corner of his mouth lifted in something akin to a smile. “Full of surprises.”

A response formed on the tip of your tongue, nowhere near as witty as you hoped for, but the press of Aemond’s fingers into your core stole your breath and all coherent thought. The sensation was odd, unlike any you’d ever experienced, and you could feel your brows furrow as your body attempted to make sense of what was happening. It was not as unpleasant as you expected, nor as pleasurable as you hoped for, but you imagined that both would come in time.

Despite his appearance, his brusque manner, Aemond was not harsh. His touch was no longer soft, no longer tentative, and you could still feel the weight of his hands on your thighs despite his touch having moved, but he seemed to take note of the way you winced when his fingers began to press a little too quickly - a little too hard - and adjusted accordingly.

Soon enough, you found a delicate rhythm - an insistent press of his fingers, an exploration unlike any you’d ever felt, as you used the grip on his jaw to pull him into another kiss.

This kiss was different, heavier. It was hungry, a clash of teeth and tongue and noses that made the backs of your eyes sting. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, a bite harsh enough to draw blood, and you inhaled sharply as he lapped at the copper staining your lips. 

The copper tang seemed to spur Aemond on, remind him of his duty and the audience waiting for it to be done. He moved with a renewed vigor, with a confidence you’d quickly come to associate with him. His fingers pressed deeper, searching, and he only seemed content when you broke the kiss to fill the room with a breathless moan of his name. 

Warmth spread over your skin, a combination of his body heat surrounding you and your own pleasure coursing through your veins. Every swipe of his fingers, every circle of his thumb over the aching bundle of nerves, made the edges of your vision white and the air harder to obtain.

It was then, as your stomach tied itself into knots and your nails sank into the toned skin of his back - his shoulders, his chest, his arms; wherever you could reach, desperate for some tether to reality - that he replaced his fingers with the filling warmth of his cock.

With every noise that fell from your lips, the noise outside the door grew louder. It felt as if the whole of the realm waited just beyond the wood, ears pressed to the door, and Aemond seemed acutely aware of your audience. Gone were the tentative touches, the firm but still careful brushes of his hands. After a few careful initial presses of his hips to yours, he began to sink into you in earnest.

A cry of his name rang through the room, fanning the flames of the fire outside, and your body seemed trapped in the path of the blaze.

Every word of gossip you’d heard from friends seemed true, impossibly, all at once. There was an ache between your thighs, a stinging pain that replaced the pleasant ache of desire, and a dull pinch at your hip as Aemond’s fingers pressed into your skin. The entire room was too hot, almost stifling, and the noise rang in your ears. The tawdry jokes and laughter in the hall, the rustle of linen, the lewd sound of Aemond’s cock pressing into your center, the keening of your moans, the huff of his breath; it was almost too much.

Each sensation that washed over you was distinct but beginning to muddle together.

Despite yourself, your best efforts to take the affection given to you by your husband and appreciate them, you found yourself hoping for something softer, something easier, something better. 

Aemond was lost in that moment, stuck somewhere in the back of his own mind, and you could only whisper his name in hopes that he might allow you a moment to catch your breath.

“Aemond, I - please.” The whispered plea, gasped into the night air and barely audible over the cheers still echoing in the hall, seemed to break his reverie. It returned him to the moment at hand - the pinch of your brows as the ache between your thighs plagued you, the curve of your mouth as you fought to keep your composure, the sting of your nails biting into his shoulder - and gave him pause. 

The snap of his hips faltered, slowed from the near manic thrusts to something more even, and you eased the grip on his shoulder as you inhaled eagerly.

That deep purple gaze swept across your face, searching for something you could not readily provide, before he squeezed your hip in what you chose to interpret as an apology. You accepted it, easily, and offered him a tentative smile as he continued pressing forward - still firm, still deep, only slower now.

Giggles from the past, old whispers that there was real pleasure to be found in bed, began to return to the forefront of your mind as Aemond’s new pace began to replace the pinch and ache between your thighs with that devastating warmth you’d only just experienced. Everything felt too hot, too bright, too much, and the thought must have been clearly written across your face as Aemond hummed.

“Take your pleasure,” he encouraged, voice low in your ear as he leaned in close. “Then, I shall have mine.”

Warmth continued to flood your veins. Fire lapped at your skin, consuming you entirely, and you took no notice of the noise that escaped your parted lips as you allowed Aemond to continue pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

The end was as beautiful as you’d heard, as blissful, and you could feel yourself melting into the plush of the bed as goosebumps erupted across your skin and your heart thundered in your chest. All that mattered in that moment was Aemond; the weight of him atop you, the warmth of his skin as he pressed himself impossibly closer, the low rasp of his voice as he all but whispered expletives. 

That pleasure was only heightened by the warmth that flooded you as Aemond stilled atop you, a curse on his lips and head thrown back.

It was a beautiful sight - something worthy of committing to memory, something so beautiful you only hoped to see it again and again. And you only hoped your new husband felt the same as he tipped his head to study you once more.

Aemond lingered only for a moment, his gaze softer than you’d seen directed at you, before he pulled away. Another squeeze to your waist was the only affection he spared before he stood and pulled the white line from his bed. He shifted you carefully - almost tenderly - to remove the fabric then strode across the expanse of the room to the door.

Without ceremony, he wrenched it open and tossed the stained fabric into the crowd.

A loud cheer echoed through the halls, drunken revelers delighting in the evidence of your consummation, but was quickly cut off with the slam of the heavy door.

The crowd grew quieter, noise drifting back in the direction of the hall still filled with older revelers - opting to spend their time discussing matters best saved for an in-person meeting - and you took the brief moment to catch your breath as Aemond did the same.

For just a moment, he lingered near the small table that held a pitcher and glasses, before filling them with wine and bringing them to bed. He handed you one, nodded his acknowledgement to your thanks, and settled back onto the plush fabric at your side.

Silence fell over the room then, a welcome but almost overwhelming lack of sound after hours surrounded by a cacophony of noise. For the first time since you woke that morning, you found that you could hear yourself think.

Every thought centered upon your new husband.

Aemond Targaryen was a mystery. Rumors about him swirled through the realm and whispers abounded at court. None seemed to be in agreement, however.

Some thought him to be fierce, a fearsome warrior who would make a fine knight should he find himself so inclined. Others insisted that Vhagar was his only asset and that he was nothing more than a loyal hound devoted to his family. Others still insisted that the only person Aemond could ever be loyal to was himself and his own interests.

There were whispers that he was cold, unfeeling. There were rumors that he had no interest in anything other than books, that living people meant little to him. But you were beginning to see the truth.

Try as he might to hide it, the nature of his soul that he buried so deeply, you were beginning to see him for who he truly was.

Aemond wanted the things he’d never been given. He sought reassurance, comfort, love. He wanted to be wanted - truly wanted, desired; not needed because he possessed the largest, oldest dragon. And though your match began as a political alliance, you hoped to prove that he was worthy of his desires as you shifted closer and reached for his hand.

“Aemond,” you began, voice quiet as you hoped desperately he would not push you away, even as he tensed. To your relief - and surprise - he did not. Instead, he simply glanced at your linked hands before turning his full attention to your face. “Believe what you wish, but I am glad that it is you I married. I do not want Aegon or any of the other lords lingering about the castle. I did not accept this betrothal without thought and I hope that you will believe me when I say there is no other I could want.”

Though it was slight, you could see the raise of his eyebrow. So, with a sigh, you placed your cup onto the table and grasped his hand with both of your own.

“When my father made it known that he intended to offer you my hand, I was given more attention at court than I ever wanted. I never cared much for it all, but suddenly, it seemed as if everyone wanted me to join them.” With a weary sigh, you began to trace nonsensical patterns over the back of his hand. “Everyone had a tale of Prince Aemond they wished to share. Some heard word from a brother or cousin, others whispered tales from their own trips to the Red Keep. I heard so many whispers about you that I began to lose track of who whispered what. I have always held whispers in little regard but it grew so frequent that I nearly worried I might meet a monster.”

The moment you paused, Aemond hummed thoughtfully. “Targaryen’s are said to be closer to gods than men. Perhaps monsters are included.”

“Perhaps,” you agreed, pausing your tracing to glance up at him from beneath your lashes. The deep lilac of his eye met yours and you felt your cheeks heat. “But you are no monster. You are just a man. I was given the chance to reject our union. One word, and I would’ve been spirited away to some lesser lord. But I chose to stay.”

“Why?”

It was a genuine question, accompanied by a look you recognized as being tinged with skepticism. In response, you smiled at him.

“Despite your flaws, real or imagined or embellished, I find myself drawn to you. You have the beauty and fire of your house. You are proud, but not a braggart, quiet but not without charm. You are a noted swordsman and a dragon rider, yet you take no pleasure in tourneys. You are young and capable, intelligent and thoughtful. Of all the qualities one could want in a husband, you possess most."

This earnest admission was met with yet another hum of acknowledgement from your husband, a thoughtful rumination as he allowed the compliment to linger for a moment. Only then, after seeming to savor your words, did he ask, “Which qualities do I lack, wife?”

Had you not grown so accustomed to studying every twitch of his brows, every curve of his mouth, you might’ve missed the hint of a smile he wore. It was a question asked in jest, teasing, and you allowed yourself a laugh.

“Time shall tell,” you assured him, returning his barely-there smile with a soft one of your own. “Though, I would never dare call you perfect, lest your head swell to the size of Vhagar’s.” Aemond allowed you a glimpse of a true smile then, fleeting, but you savored the sight just the same. It brought a strange warmth to your chest, wound the hope that bloomed beneath your ribcage into a tendril that squeezed your heart, and you offered his hand a gentle squeeze. “I understand why we were wed. But I have hope that even if we do not find love in one another, we shall find friendship at the least.”

“You would not ask for more?”

“Men’s battles are fought in fields, at sea, on dragon back,” you answered, carefully turning his hand in yours to trace his palm. “A woman’s battle is fought abed. If I were to die there, my only hope is that it would be for someone I cared for, someone who cared for me.”

That lilac eye studied your face once more, more intently, and you could see the weight of your words settling on his shoulders as he realized that he was no longer alone, nor did you have any misunderstandings as to what this life meant for you both. Though he was the spare, pushed down in the line of succession by his brother’s children, he was expected to have a family and in return for giving him heirs, all you asked of him was companionship.

“I believe you shall be a fierce warrior,” he declared, gaze dipping to your fingers gently sweeping across his heated skin.

“And I believe you are all I could have hoped for in a husband,” you confessed, hoping he might agree - that he might declare you to be all he could’ve hoped for in a wife.

And though he seemed unopposed to you, he instead asked, “Do you believe that truly?”

“I do,” you confirmed, pausing your tracing to meet his eye. “I’ve long been afraid of marriage, of becoming trapped with someone who cared little for me, but I am more afraid that growing to love you will be easier than I ever imagined.”

“Love makes you weak,” he all but whispered, though the words held little conviction and even less weight. They were the words of someone afraid, someone unused to love and affection, and you met them with a gentle smile.

“Perhaps it is a good thing we are married, then. I believe love makes you stronger. My father loved my mother and he fought like hell to return to her each and every battle he waged. Love provides motivation,” you offered, only to be met with another thoughtful hum. Rather than pressing, you shifted the conversation after a moment of silence. “Why did you allow the bedding ceremony?”

Aemond paused for a moment and seemed to consider his answer. “I had every intention of forgoing it,” he confessed, free hand tracing the lip of his glass. “Then, we met and it was selfish, I suppose. I have something most men in King’s Landing will covet - a comely wife from a noble house who has made me the sole object of her affection. Allowing the ceremony provided an opportunity to boast, to show that while they may look, you are mine. No other will know the pleasure of your company.”

The reasoning behind his allowance was understandable, even more so when you considered that he was the second son of a man who scarcely remembered his sons in the first place. It was not often he was given something others desired, not often he could be envied, and you could not begrudge him the opportunity he’d taken.

“I am yours,” you agreed, lifting his hand to place it over your heart. “While I believe love will make us stronger, I would not mind being seen as weak, just so long as you are by my side. Others may whisper or believe what they wish but know, lord husband, that I want you and you alone. I look forward to the future and hope the gods bless us with a long and happy marriage.”

“I shall leave faith to you,” he declared, though the words were softer than you believed he intended. “But I have little doubt that you will be left wanting.” Aemond turned, then, and removed the eyepatch covering his eye. The sapphire glimmered in the dim candlelight and you squeezed his hand to keep yourself from reaching out for him.

“Gevi,” you repeated, smiling upon the full face of your new husband.

Aemond’s mouth curved once more, a touch more noticeable, before he sighed and shifted to lie amongst the pillows. “Sleep, dear wife,” he encouraged, pulling you into the pillows at his side.

With the morning sun, your new life would begin. As tentative as you’d once been, you no longer felt any fear. There was far to travel, much to be gained in the way of your new husband’s trust, but you imagined he was right; neither of you would be left wanting, so long as you had the other.

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Author's Note: It's my first time writing for Aemond (or anything GoT/HotD related) so I hope it's alright. I didn't want to go too soft but I also didn't want to go too mean/cold? I dunno. Let me know what you think! :)

[edytae]

drunk love

(do not interact if you are underage)

pairing: non-idol!Taehyung x (female) reader

summary: “Jerk off for me.”

rating: 18+

genre/warnings: smut, pure filth but Taehyung being the greenest flag, OC is trying to be dom but whiny (as always), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, s*x on all fours, hair pulling, i want what they have.

word count: 17.2K

A/N: Please give it a like or reblog if you like it

masterlist | inexperienced | you’re mine | Spoiled |take a break | heat | Puppy Daddy |

————

“Namjoniee-” You continued to fake-cry as the large boy came closer to the couch with worried eyes. Taehyung had you sitting between his legs, trying his best to manage your drunk body. 

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Namjoon asked in a genuinely worried tone. His large palms took hold of your face as you tricked him. Taehyung rolled his eyes. 

“T-ttaehyu-yung!” You gasped while digging your finger into his hand. Namjoon looked at him questioningly. Seeing Taehyung’s nonchalant face calmed him slightly. “What about Taehyung, sweetie?” Namjoon asked in a sweet tone. His fingers gently caressed your fake tears. 

“Taetae doesn’t let me touch his dick!” You broke into another cry as Namjoon let you go with a laugh. Taehyung welcomed your dramatic ass with a hug. You placed your head back on Taehyung’s chest and sobbed without any tears coming. 

“She can’t even stand with my help, she is completely drunk.” Taehyung shrugged. 

Namjoon laughed, “I am sure Taehyung would love that, sweetheart. But you are drunk for that.” Namjoon repeated what Taehyung said the entire night. 

“No! I am not drunk.” You opposed while Namjoon clearly smelled the alcohol from you. “He is just so mean! Tell him, Namjoon. I just want to touch him!” 

“I am sure Taehyung will do whatever you wish when you are sober, sweetie. Okay? I am leaving now, good luck man!” Namjoon realised there was no point in arguing, so he left you and poor Taehyung alone in the living room. 

“You are so mean Taetae…” This time you quietly said. Taehyung was hoping that you would run out of energy and fall asleep soon. He nodded when you accused him and continued to stroke your back. “Just let me see it!” Your hands hugged his waist stronger as you rubbed your face to his shirt. 

Taehyung felt his throat dry. It was so difficult for him to keep denying you while you asked for so many dirty things from him. He was determined not to do anything as you were drunk as fuck. “Baby, you already know my answer. When you-” He calmly tried to explain but you huffed the middle sentence. 

Oh, how dearly he wanted to fuck you against his door and make you cry and huff out of pleasure… But he needed to be sure you were able to give consent. With your drunk ass, you possibly cannot. 

“I can’t touch your dick; I can’t see your dick… What am I going to do?” You listed with a whine while his dick painfully laid against Taehyung’s stomach. If you were to sit upright just a little, you could feel it how hard he is for you. He continued to caress your back until you pulled yourself from his embrace. 

“Can I kiss you, then? Please?” You sniffed, looking up at him with pleading eyes. Taehyung brought his hand to your nape, holding your hair in his hand. His adorable boxy smile took over his features. “Of course, baby.” Hey, nodded as his insides melted.

Your lips met his chin in a wet, sloppy peck. “Mwah!” You exaggerated the sound of your lips smacking. Nevertheless, your kiss made Taehyung breathless and weak. You tried to reach for his lips next, your grip was strong on his biceps hoping to tackle him. You kissed Taehyung’s lips cutely as he was smiling like a puppy.

You both giggle in harmony. “See? You can’t even aim your kisses.” Taehyung made fun of you while his arms pulled you over his lap. You didn’t listen and continued giving him quick pecks all over his jaw and lips, moaning into his skin as you tasted him. 

He groaned, petting your hair. “Baby…” Your drunken lips bit him down. “I love kissing you.” You confessed breathlessly as you kissed your way down to his neck. Your spit was decorating his skin subtly. When you exhaled on his wet skin, Taehyung felt goosebumps rise all over his back. “You are such a dirty girl…” He hissed when your lips sucked on his pulse. 

You groaned, letting yourself sit on his one thigh. Taehyung got tense as your knee brushed his crotch. You earned another hiss from him. “Yeah baby, I can be so dirty for you…” You breathed out, your hands dropped to his shoulders, generously palming them.

Taehyung dropped his head back. His body was on fire because of you. He felt dizzy, almost too weak to even breathe. His hips bucked up to your knee in between his thighs. 

You kept sucking his bottom lip, played with his tongue, smothering him in kisses up and down with your warm mouth while eliciting soft whines from him. 

“Fucking hell…” He cursed as you gently bit down his collarbones. You needed his lips more like air. “Your mouth…” He rolled his head to sides. His poor heart was beating frantically against his ribcage. It has been a long time since he felt this way just from simple kisses. 

“Do you like it?” You asked. Taehyung bit his lip down and nodded. He needed to stop you but couldn’t find himself say no to you.

“You are sooo good at kissing too, you know?” You pulled his head by the hair and planted open-mouth kisses on his neck. It was absolutely filthy, and he loved it. Taehyung placed his hand on your hip, your body reacted to him in seconds. He felt your knee pressing more against his hardness. “F– Y/N…”

“Mhmm, Taetae…” You sucked his skin on his neck little too hard. You can’t be blamed, he tasted too sweet, and you couldn’t resist. Without him realising it, you licked up the pink hickey on his neck gently. 

Taehyung stopped you before this before you lured him into seduction. He almost teared up, “Baby… Sit back like a good girl.” 

You were absolutely drunk, and he didn’t get consent from you when you were sober. If you slept with him in this state, it would mean he took advantage of you. Even though he wanted you like crazy, he pushed you away from his chest. If he was lucky, you would want him tomorrow too.

He wanted to whine and cry more than you when you weakly untangle yourself from him. “Okayy, fine!” You sat next to him, arms wrapped around yourself, pouting adorably.

“Don’t you pout! It’s not like I don’t want you. I really want this more than you, but you are drunk, baby.” He caressed your face as your pout grow larger. 

“I will never drink again. I will not so I can fuck you whenever I want.” You dramatically sniffed again. 

“Can I please fuck you whenever I want?” Then, you had the audacity to ask very politely. Taehyung had to hold himself like a saint so that he didn’t just fuck you to shape your insides. 

“Yes, baby. You need to be sober first.” No matter how horny he was, he would never touch someone without their consent first. You seemed to understand or got tired, so you mumbled something about napping before putting your head on his shoulder. 

“Mm-kay…” You nodded cutely and planted a kiss on his cheek. 

Oh, how Taehyung’s inside melted. 

“You will feed me dick tomorrow, right?” Your cute voice ringed in Taehyung’s ear one last time as you drunkenly asked. Taehyung’s dick twitched in his boxers as he took one big breath to calm himself. He pecked your hair and lulled you into a sleep. You did fall asleep super quickly, so he took his phone out and scrolled through Instagram while you soundly slept on his side, cuddling him cutely. 

You woke up with a headache… next to a very handsome man entangled to you with the warmest embrace. After a few seconds, you felt the subtle presses on your cheek. “Wake up, sweetie…” An impossibly low voice called you gently as kisses were planted on your face.

“Mhhm?” You didn’t register after a few more kisses– well no one would say no to this. 

“You’re such a sleepy girl, aren’t you?” Taehyung spoke again with his unlawfully low and sexy voice. His teasing tone got your desires up from their slumber too. Talking about desires… Last night… Oh god…

As you slowly opened your eyes, the warmth of the morning sun greeted you, and you found yourself nestled in a cocoon of soft blankets and Taehyung’s safe arms. 

The sensation of tender kisses against your cheek brought you fully into the present. Taehyung lips brushed your skin most affectionately. His breath was warm, creating a comforting contrast to the cool morning air, and for a moment, you let yourself relish in the sweet simplicity of it all.

With your eyes still closed, you allowed yourself to savour the moment, the soft caresses and the way his lips felt against your skin. You knew that as soon as you woke up, you would be greeted by the shameless thing you said to him last night. 

When you finally opened your eyes, you were greeted by Taehyung's handsome face, his eyes soft and crinkled at the edges with a gentle smile. You wanted to cry about how handsome and pretty he was. His tousled hair and the hint of stubble on his chin only added to his rugged charm.  His face was puffy, making him look so real.

His low voice, a soothing murmur, broke the quiet morning air as he said, "Good morning, sleepyhead." His morning voice could make you choke.

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you met his gaze, feeling so embarrassed and still so relaxed. And as his fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, a shiver ran down your spine at the intimate touch. It was moments like these that made your heart skip a beat, that made you realize how much he meant to you. His care and concern last night were etched in your memory, a testament to the genuine person he was. And your sluttiness did test his entire character.

“Oh my god… Taehyung…” You mumbled as you hid your face into his arm, breathing in his neck while hiding from his eyes.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” He asked gently. 

“Oh my… Taehyung, I am so sorry.” You said against the smooth skin of his neck. He chuckled with that unholy low voice as he patted your nape. “Why are you sorry, baby?” 

You buried your nose into his skin. “The things I said to you… Oh my god…” You groaned and tried to suffocate yourself. 

“Yeah?” He teased you as you whined. You shakily pulled yourself from his arms and looked at his face. He rocked a gorgeous bedhead and he still looked fucking hot. You blurred, “I didn’t mean– Fuck! I meant all of them, but I’m sorry.” 

Taehyung chuckled again, “You don’t need to apologise. You don’t know how much I enjoyed drunk Y/N.” 

“But still…” You shrugged and with a sudden mood change you blamed him. “But it was all your fault! You were fucking flaunting yourself, Kim Taehyung. You made me suffer.” Your serious tone was hard to decipher. Taehyung could see the real annoyance in your eyes while your lips were in a cute pout. 

“I didn’t do anything.” Taehyung laughed as his pretty eyes got squeezed shut. He rolled to his side as he held his tummy. 

You picked yourself to your elbows, visibly annoyed. “I can’t believe you Taehyung.” 

Taehyung’s laugh only grew more, and you grew annoyed. You huffed and turned your back to him. You were in the mood to play. 

“Okay, okay, I am only joking.” Taehyung hugged you from the back. 

You huffed and peeled his hand off. “No! You don’t like me! Don’t hug me.”

“Y/N!” He was still laughing at you. The audacity! 

“I told you that I wouldn’t let you get into my pants if you got drunk.” Taehyung was a thoughtful, honest man, but you were too horny for that. You needed him to rock your world. 

You thought you could stay mouth shut, “So you literally leave me to die dickless. Unacceptable.”

Taehyung loved your cute facade. “After I promised you could fuck me whenever you want when you were sober and took care of you in my bed.” He threw his long arm over you again, and you didn’t push him this time. 

He pressed your back to his chest; your hair tickled his chin. “I am ready to give you what you want.” He whispered into your ear, and in an instant, you felt yourself drip into your underwear. It was dangerous how easily he riled you up as you turned your head to him with a challenging look.

He was fucking tired of back and forth. “You gave me the most painful hard on yesterday and didn’t take care of it.” His sinful tone was enough to make you fucking lose your mind. 

Taehyung kissed behind your ear, you shuttered.  “Taehyung…” Your hand found his hair. “You didn’t l-et me.” You cried.

“You know I couldn’t do it, baby…” Taehyung cupped your tummy with his warm hand. His low voice vibrated your body. “How can I make it up to you? Mhmm? Would you want me to fuck you now? Have my way with you?”

You hummed sweetly and egged him to continue. He lowly chuckled, “Last night, you were begging me to see my dick, to touch it. You are so naughty.” 

“Taehyung!” You whined as he rubbed your tummy with his huge palm. You melted against him like an ice cream on a sunny day.

“I’m sorry, my sweet baby… I promise I will be good to you... if you want, of course.” He pleaded with a whiney voice as he continued to lure you. 

“You are so mean!” You whined again. Taehyung was so amused why your whiny voice. “I only wanted to spend time with you. That was what I ever wanted!” You truly came to this party to spend time with Taehyung. If not for him, you would have blast in your home watching Sewing Bee’s new episode.

Taehyung supported, "We are spending time. Look." He pulled you close to him. He was lying to Taehyung's left. His hot, moist breath hit his neck rhythmically. Her lips left small hesitant kisses.

That "bulge" you felt when your back was turned to him was now pressed into bed. But you remembered how big and tough it was, both from your hazy memories of last night and from a few minutes earlier. And all this made you motivated.

Since you did not know how to start a conversation, what to say without the help of alcohol, you resorted to a simpler method. You slowly caressed Taehyung's right cheek and got his attention, then pressed your lips to hers. 

Taehyung smiled into the kiss before reciprocating. Your kiss was different than the last night. Last night, you were shoving your tongue to his throat. But now, the kiss was way more sensual. Your hold on his face grounded both of you as you treated your kiss as a dance. 

You followed his lips as Taehyung pulled back slightly to breathe and joke with you.

Just that simple action made him feel horny. He groaned into the kiss and welcomed your timid lips with so much eager. 

“Don’t bite me, baby.” The quietness of your tone and the pet name turned Taehyung on even more. 

Now, his poor erection was begging to be seen, touched and played by you. His lips became hungrier, sometimes tugged on your lip for longer. His hand grabbed on your nape as if you could be any physically closer.

“Can’t help it.” He slurred between breaths. 

You hummed and connected your lips together. Taehyung’s lips felt buttery smooth. Your spits smeared all over your mouths, so your lips and tongues glided perfectly. 

Normally, Taehyung would be the one that paced the kiss, pulled away to breathe. However, this time your roles were reversed. 

“You are gonna bruise my lips.” You whined when Taehyung harshly sucked on your bottom lip. 

He murmured inaudibly under his breath before rolling over you. He placed himself between your legs, his knees dug into the mattress. Your legs were thrown over his thighs. 

He breathed heavily against your ear. “Do you want this?” He asked. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist. “Yeah…” 

To your answer, Taehyung pressed his body weight on to you. His lips now attacked your neck. He pulled down your t-shirt– well one of his old t-shirts. 

“Tilt your head back.” He ordered annoyingly whilst pulling the pillow under your head to create a perfect angle where he can suck hickeys. 

Taehyung was taller than you. Even though he always used the height difference to his advantage by towering over you, now it became annoying. 

He folded himself, pulled you up, albeit no position was enough for him. 

“I could eat you in one bite.” He growled out of frustration. 

You chuckled as he bit down the column of your neck, “Is that a promise or a threat?” You jokingly asked. 

“Both.” His lips lingered around your pulse. This time rather than open-mouth kisses, he sucked, surely leaving a big, pulsating red mark.

You chuckled at his poor attempts to grind. He was too tall, therefore, his hips poorly bucked up against mattress. 

You pulled on his nape. “But–” 

Taehyung faintly hummed in recognition.

“Taehyung…” You called him again. This time pushing his shoulders.

“Yeah, baby?” Taehyung detached his puffy lips away from your skin and looked up. His fluffy hair was all over his handsome face, covering those dangerous, brown eyes.

“You made me so upset last night. Are you not going to make up to me?” Your voice was so sultry, dangerously innocent. It played with Taehyung’s mind.

“A-anything, baby.” He said, a small globe of spit dripped down his lips to your t-shirt.

“Anything I ask?” You asked in a full, excited voice. 

Taehyung gulped, “Anything.” He was ready to give you his everything. You just need to name it. 

You brushed your noses together. That made Taehyung smile endearingly. “Are you certain you would do anything?” You further dragged this.,

Taehyung hummed, “Anything… that doesn’t involve my asshole.” 

You quietly chuckled at him. “You do have a nice ass, but that’s not what I want.” From his nape, you dragged your hands to his waist. You gently pressed him to yourself. He groaned at the softness of your body under his.

His voice, this time exceedingly high pitched, filled your ears. “What do you need me to do, baby?” He begged to serve you.

He was subtly grinding, his eyes hidden due to the strands of hair falling from his forehead. His begging voice was so arousing and empowering.

You brushed his hair away from his eyes to find them close. So, you opted for pulling them. His eyes opened a little.

 “Jerk off for me.” You breathed out. 

Taehyung’s eyes rolled back at your words. Out of everything you could ask for, you chose something that would sweetly torture him.

Blood rushed to his dick as if there was a race. He felt blood draining from his brain, making him a dumb boy– a toy that programmed to please you. 

“Y/N…” He groaned. His face was hidden on your neck. 

His pretty hair tickled you. “Taehyung, please…” You begged, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut. “Please jerk of in front of me.” 

Taehyung sadly pulled himself back. He was wearing a big pout. “I could fuck you… very good too!” He opposed but had already warmed up to the idea. 

“I need to see your dick first. You know– to tell if it is good enough.” Your challenge drove Taehyung mad, quite literally. 

His throat grumbled with a frustrated, low moan that exuded a dark pull that melted you.

Lifting the blanket that was draped over you, Taehyung lifted himself from the bed. Thanks to his broad shoulders, the pike hung down from his shoulders, reminiscent of a tent.

Taehyung stepped between her legs, folded them nicely, and put his hands on his knees. His meaty thighs were bulging inside his shorts and laying under your thighs. His shirt was another old graphic shirt that had small holes around the hem. Even the washed-out colours and messy hair couldn’t take a pinch off of Taehyung’s handsome face.

Despite the puffy eyes and a sleepy face, Taehyung stood tall and attractive on the bed. His weight slightly dipped the mattress. His shirt loosely hanging over his body, his hands caressing your naked legs. 

“You changed me?” You were wearing a dress last night. 

Taehyung nodded. “I closed the windows and turn off the lights to change you. I swear I didn’t peak or touch you. I just took off your dress—”

You shushed him. You trust him well enough to handle your drunk ass. You knew he handled you like the gentleman he is. 

“You didn’t even look at my boobs?” You disappointedly asked. 

His face twisted into a crying face. “Of course not, Y/N.” Like he was almost about to cry out of frustration. 

“Then, how are you going to jerk off? How do you do it usually?”

Taehyung shook his head to the sides. He wasn’t ready to tell you the truth. With a whine, he dodged the question.

When his chest was bare, your hands were placed on his forearms. “Can I touch you?” You asked, like him. 

His fingers trembled as he moved your hands to his chest. His skin was so warm, smooth. He shivered when your hand caressed his ribs. “Baby…” He moaned. His lean stomach was tensed to show the lines of his abs. 

Your mouth watered at the sight. You wanted to lick down his pecs, suck his golden skin. 

His abdomen was smooth, only a faint happy trail going down his shorts. A very prominent vein was pulsing just below his belt line, making you wonder what he was taming in his underwear.

“You are so attractive…” You breathed out. Your, now, numb arms helplessly fell. Taehyung’s eyes were closed but he heard the soft pat on the pillows. His hands wanted to follow the same pattern. With a steady hold, the warm, big palms caressed down your thighs from your knees. 

His sneaky hands halted at the skirt of your shirt. He opened his pretty, glossy eyes and spoke. “May I take it off?”  

He had been biting his bottom lip so harshly that they looked like bleeding. 

“Ah, Taehyung… Please do…” You begged; your hips bucked up to his hands. 

As his fingers wrapped around the skirt of the shirt, you gasped, remembering something particularly important.

“Taehyung…” You whined. His hands stopped and looked at you concerned but blown out pupils.

He waited for you to continue. 

“You didn’t peak at my underwear, right?” You asked. 

Taehyung nodded, “I swear I didn’t see or touch anything, baby. I promise.” His caramel eyes were genuine as he caressed you lovingly. His voice came out as a soft plead, a promise of protection. 

You shook your head. “It’s not that! I– I thought we would already, you know– bang.”

Taehyung's chuckle sent a delightful shiver down your spine, his amusement infectious. "Bang?" his deep voice echoed in his own chest. "I suppose that's one way to put it." He said very quietly.

You felt your cheeks heat up, but you couldn’t help but join in his laughter, the sound blending with the tension in the air. "Well, you know what I mean," you muttered, playfully smacking his torso.

He caught your hand, interlocking your fingers together, his eyes sparkling with affection. "So, what, baby?" he murmured, his tone shifting to something softer, more intimate.

You felt your breath catch as he gazed at you, his expression so full of love and need. "I wore a set that you would like..." you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Taehyung's eyes darkened with desire at your confession. "Oh, baby," he whispered, his voice trembling with need. "You wore something for me? I thought the pretty dress was enough of a fever dream.”

You nodded, feeling a rush of heat flood your body. “I wanted to surprise you," you murmured, your own voice shaking with anticipation.

His hands, still intertwined with yours, squeezed gently. "Can I see?" he asked, his tone almost desperate, his pupils blown wide with longing.

You gave a shy nod, feeling both bold and vulnerable under his intense gaze. Slowly, you moved his hands to the hem of your skirt. "I want to take my shirt off. You watch.”

He groaned softly in protest, but he followed your orders. He watched your arms go cross over your body, your fingers wrap around the fabric and gently pulled his t-shirt off. 

His breath hitched when he saw the delicate pink lace of your underwear, his eyes widening in admiration. "Fuck, you're perfect," he breathed out, his voice hoarse with desire.

Taehyung's hands caressed your thighs, moving upwards with a tantalizing slowness. His eyes couldn’t decide where to land, frantically going up and down your body. "I can't believe you did this for me," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of shyness and excitement. "I wanted to make you happy," you replied softly, his fingers muting your voice.

“You have no idea how deep you got me,” he murmured. His one hand was placed on your waist. Firmly and boldly. Your stomach tensed. That didn’t pass unseen as Taehyung caressed the expanse of your stomach. He deeply groaned as he pressed on the soft folding of your stomach.

Then, his eyes fluttered on the price, your boobs. 

Taehyung had a not-so-secret infatuation with your breasts. They were soft, womanly, and made Taehyung hard every single time.

“Do you have enough material to jerk off now?” You asked, remembering you had one big mission rather than showing him your tits.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered back to you. He kind of wished you would let it go, but he was determined to do whatever you pleased. If he was correct about his feelings, you watching him masturbate could drive you mad. 

His hand abandoned you despite your protest. Your eyes immediately flickered down to the subject of matter, his clothed cock. 

Taehyung was readily waiting for you since last night. He was hard, throbbing, sticky and everything in between. You plagued his mind so much that he’d turned into a play toy you could command. 

Since he was a teenager, he was exposed to adult content. He kept reminding himself that he’d seen naked woman before as he struggles to understand why he was this deeply captured by your figure. 

Maybe it was your matching cute lingerie that shook his core, you taking time to think about his pleasure, about his dick. 

Taehyung hissed in pain when he squeezed himself over his shorts. For you, his voice was a taste of heaven. “You hard?” You asked deliriously. His boyish red shorts were only bulging, didn’t give a clear outline. 

“Yeah…” He murmured as he stroke himself a few times. Globes of precum had already ruined his boxers. 

When Taehyung took more time than you could endure, your hands intervened. Pretty painted nails grazed down his hips, just above the start of his v line. “Can’t wait to see it.” You murmured. 

“Do you wanna feel it?” Taehyung asked. He knew he was playing against the rules. 

“I–” You spoke of hesitation before letting yourself go. “Fine.” You surrendered. 

You held your hand out for Taehyung to grab. He took his sweet time with you. He held your wrists, opened your palm to lay it on his. He compared how small your fingers to him while knowing how you gawked at his hands.

You loved the lean, long fingers. His large, manly palm that could grab your entire face in one. You love to trace the veins that protrude over the back of his hand up to his biceps. You love how meticulously kept his nails were. You could eat of from his hands without any second thoughts.

You held your breath as Taehyung put your hand on below his stomach. Your fingers sneakily brushed against the happy trail you saw earlier. After letting you tease and feel him around, Taehyung pressed your hand to his erection. 

You gasped loudly. If you weren’t so sure of him, you could assume he stuffed something else in his pants. Not being able to control yourself, you tugged your hand free touch him without his restrict. 

You tried to make out the outline of his appendage by touching. His girthy length felt infinitely long as you brushed along it. He was radiating warmth beneath two layers of fabric and throbbed.

Taehyung hissed when you made it towards his sensitive tip. “Oh, wow…” You said. Your free hand came up to caress too. While your one hand held the tip, your other hand when down his length.

Taehyung growled; his hips bucked up to your touch involuntarily. “Are you impressed yet?” He asked through his teeth. 

“Intrigued.” You replied. Your voice was hoarse.

“Let’s not wait you for long, huh?” He asked. His hand pulled down his shorts first. The red pyjama shorts pooled down on his knees. Next were his black boxers. When your hands touched him through his underwear. You felt how much he leaked. 

Suppressing your laugh, you thanked him. “Can’t wait…”

Taehyung didn’t want to wait too. He needed direct skin contact in regards of how little patience he had. He didn’t care if he would cum straight away.

While you entertained yourself and salivated over his deep v line, Taehyung took matters into his own hands and pulled his boxers down too. 

His cock sprung out. You gasped. 

It was even more impressive than you had imagined, thick and throbbing, the mushroom shaped head glistening with precum. It was pretty. You didn’t expect less compared to Taehyung’s Greek good body. 

His length stood proudly. If you looked closely, you could see it pulsate. The needy thing almost turned purple from how hard it got. Your hands trembled as you reached out to touch him again. 

This time you were the one went hazy. You looked at Taehyung with big eyes. Almost unsure if you were dreaming. As your hands got suspended halfway, Taehyung nodded, allowing you. 

Your fingers wrapped around his shaft, feeling the heat and the hardness of him. Taehyung’s response was a strangled moan, his body arching into your touch. 

You weren’t as mean as previously. You still took your time exploring him, but gentler.

“Pretty.” You mumbled to yourself. 

Taehyung laughed. No one called his dick pretty before. He shook the bed with the bounce of his shoulders. “You think my cock is pretty?” 

You licked your lips. Taehyung saw the hunger in your eyes. Only momentarily he imagined your smooth lips over his pretty cock. If you thought his dick was pretty, you would give it a kiss, right?

It was an idea to entertain another time as you gained more consciousness over the situation. 

“So pretty.” You repeated. 

Taehyung’s cock throbbed at the praised. Your eyes were locked on his dick. Both of his hands were wrapped around the base. 

You hummed; your hands tugged at his wrists. “Hands off–” You murmured. He didn’t want to stop holding it as he was sure you were going to tease him.

“Taehyung!” You called his name more clearly. “Please stop holding it.” Ever kind, you asked.

Taehyung poutingly released his grip to gladly let you take control. His pouty and whiny face egged you to do whatever you want to him.

“Oh!” You exclaimed. “Look at this…” Your excitement was silenced when his tip couldn’t be enclosed by the wrap of your index finger and thumb.

Taehyung groaned as his hips rolled against your tight hold. Your hand was already covered in his stickiness. You allowed Taehyung to roll his hips a few times, “See! It was your hands that made it look average. It’s huge…” You whispered it like a secret.

He held your thighs; his fingers gripped you hard. “Y/N…” Taehyung moaned your name from his throat. You were playing him around like a toy and he enjoyed it. “Baby…” His moan was bliss to your ears. You wanted to record it and listen every damn second of the day.

Only momentarily– to test if he would continue moan like that again, you tugged at his length once. Unlike his poor excuse of strokes, you used both of your hands and held him firmly throughout. His whole body shuddered with immense vigour even only with a singular stroke.

When Taehyung opened his eyes, he saw two of your fists wrapped around him, and yet a good two inches of his tip was still exposed. Your hold was fairly tight to compensate. Taehyung had a small brains space to speak. “Even with your two hands you can’t hold me properly.” He whispered to himself. 

You whimpered at the feeling of his hard dick. You felt the warm blood pumping, making him so heavy. Your insides were clenching sporadically while the only thing to ease you laid in your hands. To his relief, you stroked him again. 

When your palms glided against Taehyung’s dick simultaneously again, he let out a guttural moan, his head falling back to his shoulders. If you stroked him like this for more than five times, he would cum. No thoughts, just orgasm like he never had before. 

His entire body tensed with the pleasure that surged through him. Your gentle and timid hands, the way your fingers wrapped around his length, made him feel like he was made from gold.

"God, Y/N," he breathed, his voice trembling. "You feel so good."

His dick ejected plenty of precum to prove his point. His knees were spreaded further causing you to spread more. You saw this pleasure in him so much that you slowed down his movements. You wanted Taehyung on the line between pleasure and pain. 

Taehyung took a deep breath. "My tip..." He sniffled. You were avoiding his poor tip, thus giving him semi-dry strokes.

“What about your tip, baby?” You asked as you mimicked his pout.

You mimicked his pout, your tone teasing but affectionate.

Taehyung whimpered, his eyes pleading. “Please,” he sniffled, his voice a desperate whisper. “Touch my tip. I want it so bad, Y/N.”

You looked at him, pretending to consider his request. “You want it?” you asked, your voice soft and laced with a hint of teasing. “Or you need me to?”

He nodded frantically, his hips bucking slightly in a futile attempt to guide your hand where he needed it most. “Need! I need you, please,” he pleaded, his breath hitching. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Aw… Baby…” You made a sympathetic noise, but your hands soon left him completely. 

Taehyung’s response was immediate, a choked moan escaping his lips as his body arched into your touch. His hands returned to their iron grip on your thighs. 

“Why?” He gasped, almost sobbing. “Why stop when I–?” 

“You know why, baby. You know what I need you to do.” You whispered. You placed your hands over his, gently pushing him. 

Taehyung left red hand marks on your thighs when he loosened his grip. He was looking at you with the cutest pout. 

“Look at you! Crying baby with leaky dick.” You amused even though your panties were soaked through and through. The wet fabric was obvious to Taehyung, who was clearly having bigger issues now. Albeit you could feel the slickness between your lips, rubbing so messily to your underwear.

Taehyung's cheeks were forever flushed a deep shade of pink. His pupils were blown out, teared eyed because of how much you teased him.

“Ah, don’t be so upset. You make me so wet too…” You muttered as if you were the victim. If you weren’t so keen on teasing Taehyung, he would have fucked you to cloud nine.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered down to your clothed core, his pupils dilating further as he took in the sight of your soaked panties. His expression shifted as he soft the outline of your lips, a primal hunger taking over as he let out a low, guttural growl.

He bit his lip, his hand trembling as he tried to control himself. The sight of your arousal was driving him wild, his own need growing more intense with each passing second. He hiccupped; his voice was gone.

“Mhmm?” You asked him dreamily. He wasn’t aware of his own head wrapping around his cock. 

You smiled. This was where you needed him. You looked at his palm wrapped around his base. The vein from his point finger had grown prominent and followed towards his elbow. 

He was–now– sweaty and breathless. His body ached as if he ran a marathon. 

“How do you do this usually?” You asked– meaninglessly curious about his own sexy time. 

“Do what?” Taehyung’s brain was nonfunctional due to lack of blood. 

You squinted; you weren’t sure if he was intentionally doing this. To warn him, you squeezed his tip. 

Taehyung whined, “Y/N! F-fuck.” He covered your hand in his sticky juice in seconds.

You pouted, “Don’t play dumb.” You were opposite of scolding him.

Taehyung shook his head to sides, “I– I just jerk off. N-nothing complicated.” He blabbered. 

“No toys?” You asked. 

Taehyung shook his head again. Now, he had iron grip on your hands and his hips started to maintain their rhythm against them.

“I am a dude, Y/N. I just stroke it for a few minutes, and I’m done.” He was telling the truth. He never had vibrators or fleshlights. His previous partners were too faint to remember. There was nothing he felt particularly attached. 

“Surely you watch something? Or look at something?” You egged him.

Taehyung nodded, “Yeah.” His eyes were closed again. His bottom lip caught on his teeth while he breathlessly humped the palm of your hand. 

Even though Taehyung craved stimulation, he couldn’t take another squeeze of his poor leaking cock. He continued playing into your game. “Sometimes porn… I- Your photos…” He murmured very guilty. He was literally in your hands so there was no point to lie.

You sent him a lot of thirst traps. He was ever gentleman, always respectfully looking at your photos and admiring them in mere seconds before his dick grew tall. He politely responded to them with floods of emojis and compliments. Depending on the content of the photos, he exterminated them almost immediately. However, more than many times, he had your photos flash through his eyes while stroking his cock. 

You were the perfect remedy for his dick. Those photos made his alone time pass so quick.

The answer seemed to please you as you giggled. “My innocent selfies?” You amused.

Taehyung gulped. There was plethora of different types of photos you sent. Some were fun and dramatic, and others were simply so fucking hot. “Mhmhm…” Taehyung nodded pathetically. 

For example, an innocent picture of your ass to ask if the colour of your jeans match your shirt… That juicy peach always made his dick harden. 

“What do you think about while looking at them, baby?” You were hooked in. You needed him to confess his deepest secrets and become addicted to you. You loved the nice, easy-going, bubbly man he was outside. But you craved the man behind the gentleman gestures.

You helped him to wrap his right hand around his dick. You adjusted his hold. “There you go… Tell me.” You whispered when he started stroking himself with cute shivers.

 “I imagine your lips,” he continued, his voice trembling with need. “Your lips on my lips, on my neck, kissing me, sucking me… I think about how soft they’d feel, how warm your mouth is.”

His hand moved faster, the slick sounds filling the room as he lost himself in his confession. His free hand grabbed your boob. He needed an emotional tit squeeze. 

You gave him that with a whimper. You placed your hand over his. ”You like it when I kiss your neck, baby?” 

He gulped and nodded. He enjoyed your small body pressed against him, your hands holding onto his shoulders cutely while you leaned in to place a soft kiss on his neck. 

“God, yes,” he groaned, his voice a mix of desperation and desire. “I love it when you do anything to me…”

Taehyung continued, “I think about your body, how perfect you are, how much I want to touch you, taste you… I- I think about your boobs. You drive me crazy, Y/N.” His eyes rolled back in the soft feeling of your tit. He wished he grabbed them sooner.

“I imagine you riding me, your body bouncing on top of mine, taking me so deep… I think about how tight you’d feel, how you’d moan my name…” His voice broke, a desperate edge creeping in but still so deep, low, and manly. “How you would cry about how big my dick is…” He chuckled deviously.

You confidently giggled. Hearing him so openly express his desires fuelled your own. “You really like it when I’m in control, don’t you?” you chuckle– little too confidently.

“For now,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and authority, sending a shiver down your spine.

You replied, your voice exceedingly small. “Well, right now, you’re mine to play with.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” he warned, his tone playful yet promising. His chest rose and fell quickly with each breath.

You leaned back slightly, your eyes locking onto his with a challenging gaze. “I will,” you whispered, your fingers trailing down his chest. “And you’ll love every second of it.”

“What else, Taehyung?” you pressed, wanting more, needing to hear him completely unravel.

He paused, his eyes locking onto yours with a dark, intense gaze. "I imagine you on top of me, your eyes half-closed, lips parted as you sink down on me, taking me deeper and deeper," he murmured, his voice a blend of raw desire and an edge of vulnerability. "I see you throwing your head back, moaning my name, telling me how good I feel inside you… how you’d lose yourself in the pleasure, riding me until you can't take it anymore." The words spilled out of his mouth

“You sound so fucking hot…” You cried helplessly. You dreamed about riding him. The mind image was perfect. He was built huge in height. He was your own big teddy bear that you get to hump. 

“I will make you take it. All of this…” He held his dick at the base and slapped it against his palm. His voice was sinister. 

You pliantly nodded. Your eyes were on his dick, silently watching every single move of his dick. He never seen a girl look at his dick with this much love.

“You will sit on me and take it, right baby?” He asked.

“I-i don’t know…” You blabbered. He was the biggest you ever seen in real life. Despite all the dirty talk, you were all bark and no bite. Taehyung was well aware of it. 

“I will make you take it.” He promised.

Your breath hitched, the intensity of his words making your heart race. “I… I want to,” you admitted, your voice trembling with both fear and excitement.

“Good girl,” he praised, his eyes darkening with lust. “You’re going to take all of me, every inch. You’ll be so full of me; you won’t be able to think of anything else.”

A whimper escaped your lips, your body aching with need. “Taehyung! I– you continue…”

He smirked, clearly enjoying your desperation. “Yeah? You want me to continue? You want me to continue stroking my cock while watching you?”

“Yes… I want you to cum…” you confessed, your voice breaking. 

With a pleased smile Taehyung’s hand moved to his cock, stroking himself slowly at first, then picking up the pace. If you needed him to cum, he would gladly point you white. 

He groaned, “Let me see your titties better, then.” 

You unhooked your bra off and threw it away as words left his mouth. You looked at him with big eyes for his approval. “Nice titties….” Taehyung hummed while grabbing each of them one after the other. 

The sight of his hand moving over his thick length, combined with the slick sounds of his arousal, made your own need unbearable. You felt yourself almost combusting. 

His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze intense and filled with raw desire. “Oh, fuck… Y/N,” he groaned, his voice deep and rough. He made sure your heard all of his pretty noises.

Your hands trembled as they moved to your panties, slipping underneath the fabric to find your swollen clit. You gasped at the sensation, start to rub yourself desperately as you watched Taehyung’s hand move over his length.

“Ah, you’re gonna touch yourself too?” He cooed you but his eyes were locked at how your hands were stuffed into your panties.

“Oh, Taehyung,” you moaned, your voice filled with need and anger. “You make me so wet!”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned. “Are you touching your clit, baby?” 

Your body trembled, your fingers working faster as you felt the pressure building inside you. You barely nodded. Your fingers were barely satisfying you. They were clumsily bumping at your clit to relieve the hunger.

“Taetae…” you panted, your voice a desperate whimper. 

“Look at me… I am leaking so much for you.” Taehyung pointed to his dick. His eyes never left yours as he continued to stroke himself, the slick sounds only intensifying. 

“I–” You huffed out of frustration. Your panties didn’t give you the room to help yourself. 

You were stuck to watch Taehyung’s orgasm ripple through his soul while you couldn’t even touch yourself properly. Maybe you shouldn’t have been this mean to him.

Your pout had become bigger as frustration built up in you. Taehyung watched your fidgety digits, but they did the opposite of help. Taehyung could change that easily. 

He placed his free hand on your thigh. Your body had a number of reactions: shiver, ran away, and then push yourself towards him instead. He gently squeezed up to the apex of your thigh, his fingers teased your inner thighs. 

You screamed top of your lungs. “B-baby!” 

Taehyung’s eyes found yours authoritatively. He didn’t need to utter any words. “I- got them for you. A few days ago…” You barely managed to utter while your body convulsed because of his fingertips.

“Hmm, your underwear? You’re cute...” With a smirk, he hooked his fingers around the delicate fabric and, with a swift motion, tore your panties off, the sound of ripping fabric echoing through the room. The sensation of the cool air against your heated skin made you shiver.

“Taehyung!” You exclaimed in shock. 

His eyes darkened with desire as he saw your messy lips, glistening with your arousal. The sight of your swollen, slick folds and the way your wetness glistened in the dim light made his breath hitch. Your pussy was beautiful and inviting. A creamy peach for him to devour.

Taehyung’s hand continued to move over his thick length, his mouth salivated. His gaze was fixed on your exposed sex, the sight of you so open and vulnerable for him driving him wild. He groaned deeply; his jaw clenched. 

Your fingers, still trembling from the overwhelming sensations, hesitated as he ripped your pretty decent clothing away without any trouble. It was physically impossible for you to become hornier for him. 

“Touch yourself,” he commanded, his voice rough with need. “So, I can continue...” He said while waving his cock like a torch. 

With a shaky breath, you obeyed, your fingers moving to your swollen clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. The sensation was electric, your body responding instantly to the touch.

Taehyung’s eyes followed your every move, his own hand speeding up as he watched you pleasure yourself. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “Just like that, baby.” His breathing grew heavier, and his strokes became more urgent. “Put your fingers inside,” he ordered, his eyes locked onto yours.

You hesitated, your fingers pausing over your clit. “Do it,” he growled, the intensity of his gaze making your body tingle.

You shook your head to sides. “No, you do it. I… can’t…” 

His eyes flashed with something primal at your words, the hint of fear and the desperate plea igniting his desire further. "Scared?" he repeated, a dangerous smirk curling his lips. 

He firmly grabbed your wrist, guiding your fingers back to your swollen clit. "Coat your fingers in that cream." he commanded; his voice rough with need. 

With a shaky breath, you obeyed, your fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles over your sensitive flesh. The sensation was electric, your body responding instantly to your own touch, now intensified by his commanding presence.

"That's it," Taehyung murmured, his voice low and husky. "Just like that, baby. Get all of that juice." His own hand resumed its motion on his thick length, his eyes never leaving yours, the intensity of his gaze making your body tingle.

His strokes on himself became more urgent, the slick sounds of his arousal filling the room. "You're so fucking wet for me," he groaned, watching the way your fingers moved, the way your body trembled. 

After he was satisfied the amount your two finger was coated, he ordered, "Put those fingers in my mouth." 

Taehyung made you withdraw your fingers from your dripping pussy and brought them to his mouth. His lips closed around them immediately, his tongue swirling around your digits, tasting every drop of your arousal. 

His eyes rolled back at your taste. His entire chest vibrated with a growl. 

Taehyung sucked on your fingers greedily, his eyes never leaving yours. As he continued to taste you, his hand never stopped moving over his length, the slick sounds of his stroking mingling with the wet noises of his mouth.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he muttered around your fingers, his voice muffled but filled with lust. The sight of him devouring your essence, combined with the feeling of his mouth on your fingers, drove you to the edge.

Your body trembled with anticipation, the pressure building inside you becoming almost unbearable. “Taehyung, please cum for me.” you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea. 

With a final, deep groan, Taehyung released. 

His pupils dilated with primal lust as he quickened his pace, his hand moving frantically over his length. His breathing grew ragged, his moans louder, filling the room with the sound of his impending release.

With a guttural moan, his body shuddered, his hand moving in a frenzied blur as he came. His release spurted over your thighs and tummy. His hot and stick coated your skin. 

His face crumbled into a frown as his orgasm painfully washed him all over. He continued to stroke himself, milking every drop. His eyes never left yours while you writhed on the bed. 

As the waves of his orgasm subsided, he looked at you, breathless and flushed. A sheepish smile decorated his handsome face. His chest heaved with the effort of catching his breath, his gaze filled with a mix of satisfaction and adoration.

Your eyes broke eye contact moments ago. You were looking at dick with awe and how his sticky cum painted your tummy. “You have a decent aim.” You chuckled while looking at the globe of his juice right on your nipple. 

Taehyung chuckled; his hand got all the damage. “Couldn’t help myself. You taste really good,” he amused, his voice hoarse from the intensity of his release. 

You deeply sighed. Your voice was barely a whisper, trembling with the remnants of your own excitement. "You are so fucking hot."

He smirked, tracing a finger through his cum on your tummy. "You like being my canvas?" he teased, his voice low and husky.

Your body shivered at his touch, the warmth of his finger sending sparks through your skin. "Yeah…" you murmured, your eyes meeting his once more.

Taehyung’s expression softened, a look of pure adoration shining through his eyes. "Good," he whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently. "Did you make sure I was good for you, baby?" he teased.

You chuckled softly, feeling the warmth of his breath on your skin. "You were perfect," you replied, your voice filled with genuine affection.

He grinned, his hand caressing your side. "Perfect, huh?" he said, his tone playful. 

You watched Taehyung deliriously come down from his orgasm to realise he came all over your chest. 

“Look at the mess you made.” You tried to say pointedly. Your core was entrenched, mixing with his release on your skin. Every inch of your skin was still burning as you weren’t granted a beautiful orgasm like Taehyung’s.

You dipped your fingers between your lips. The warmth and stickiness welcomed you. Everything was so sensitive. 

Taehyung's eyes widened as he took in the sight of his release mingling with your own arousal on your chest. He could see the frustration in your eyes, the need for your own release still burning within you.

"Do I get to touch you now?" He asked with forced pout. His hands pushed your thighs apart by pulling your knees. Your lips separated from each other to allow him to have a view of your clit.

You nodded eagerly. "You made me so wet, Taehyung," you confessed, your voice barely a whisper, trembling with the remnants of your own excitement. The words ignited something primal in him, his gaze darkening with renewed desire.

He reached down, his fingers gently brushing against your drenched lips. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through your body, your breath hitching in response. "I can see that," he murmured, his voice low and husky. 

His fingers teased your folds, gathering the wetness that had pooled there. He brought his hand up to his mouth, licking his fingers clean, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight made your core throb with need. He looked so primal when he enjoyed your taste. His eyes kept rolling back while his chest hummed like a thunder.

Taehyung leaned in. His body hovered over you. “This is how much I get you wet?" he whispered. You bit your lip and nodded. 

"It's so fucking sexy," he breathed out heavily.

You moaned softly, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it. "Taehyung..." you whimpered, your body aching for more of his touch.

He smirked, clearly pleased with your reaction. "I want to taste you," he said, his voice dripping with desire. "I want to feel your juices on my tongue. I want to make you come all over my face."

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the overwhelming need coursing through you.

He leaned down to connect your forehead lovingly despite the filthy he was uttering. You almost kiss-attacked him. He was amused by your enthusiasm. His one hand continued to support his weight over you while the other was placed on your face. 

He cooed your cheek while your desperation grew big enough to bite Taehyung off. He chuckled, “Do you want to paint my face with your sweet cum, baby?” 

You whimpered under him. He was so annoying! He didn’t let his body pressed against you. You needed his every curve of his Godly body to compress yours until you become one.

"Yes," you breathed out, your voice trembling with need. 

His eyes darkened with hunger at your words. "Are you going to let me taste every single drop?" he murmured. 

His dirty talk drove you crazy. Your bratty hand acted on the urge, and you pulled Taehyung’s hair– maybe a bit too hard. 

Taehyung didn’t mind a bit. He was glad he was able to turn you on beyond his imagine. He let you pull him to your will. 

“Please baby, I want to have it straight from the source.” Taehyung begged. His bottom lip already caught in your teeth, sucking at it like his little vampire. 

Your desperation switched off something in his brain. He wanted to fuck you into another dimension, to defile any common sense, to make you forget everything but the feeling of him inside you while he feels like a puddle at your feet, doing whatever you need.

His hands moved with purpose, yanking your hands from his body. When meeting his darkened gaze, you pouted. “I- I wanted make out.” You asked softly.

He leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a fleeting kiss, enough to make you feel the warmth of his breath but not enough to satisfy your craving. "Not yet, baby," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "You’ll get all the kisses you want after I’ve had my taste."

After Taehyung returned to his previous position in between your legs. Your hands tried to search for him, but your attempts remained futile.

Taehyung’s gaze flickered to the dried remnants of his release on your skin. The sight of it only seemed to stir something deeper inside him. Without another word, he grabbed his discarded shirt, gently wiping away the sticky evidence of his earlier climax. His movements were tender, almost reverent, as if he were preparing you for what was to come next.

As he finished, he looked up at you, his eyes dark with intent. "You’re too beautiful to be covered in anything but my cum, but it must be annoying to have dried cum all over you," he murmured, his tone both possessive and adoring. 

You shrugged. It wasn’t the best feeling, but you would do anything to feel his hands around you… which was dangerous.

He tossed the shirt aside and settled himself back between your legs, his large hands spreading your thighs wide open.

Your body trembled under his intense gaze, and you bit your lip, trying to suppress the whimper that threatened to escape. The air between you was thick with anticipation, the heat of the moment making your skin prickle with desire.

Unlike you, he had mercy and spared you an unnecessary foreplay.

Taehyung's need for you was almost unbearable, so he lifted your legs onto his shoulders.

You shrieked but allowed him to continue after his eyes clocked onto yours. He kissed your calves calmly while you adjusted to the idea of having his lips on your core. 

After a few seconds, Taehyung lowered himself to his elbows, your thighs resting on his shoulders. 

As Taehyung settled between your legs, his breath hitched at the sight before him. Your core was glistening with arousal, your lips slightly parted and inviting, a sight that sent a surge of desire coursing through him. His gaze darkened, filled with an almost overwhelming need as he took in every detail—the way your wetness pooled, the way your body seemed to pulse with anticipation. He could barely hold back the growl that rumbled in his chest.

His fingers gently spreaded your folds. The cool air against your wetness made you shiver, and you could see the hunger in his eyes as he took in the sight of you. A string of curse left his filthy mouth. "Fuck, baby... You're so wet for me," he murmured, his voice dripping with lust. His fingers traced the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, teasingly close to where you needed him most.

"I love seeing you like this... so needy, so ready..."

He pressed soft kisses to your thighs, inching closer to your core but deliberately avoiding it. The anticipation was driving you wild, and he could tell by the way your hips subtly shifted, seeking more contact. But Taehyung was in control, savouring the moment, letting the tension build.

"Do you know how badly I want to taste you right now?" he whispered against your skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "To feel you come undone on my tongue? I can’t wait to make you scream my name..."

His lips brushed just beside your folds, his tongue darting out to lick a tantalizing line along your thigh, avoiding your most sensitive spot by a mere inch. The teasing had you trembling, every nerve in your body alight with desire.

"You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N," he groaned, his voice low and guttural. "I want to cum so hard that you forget your own name." He believed every single word with such determination that he surely would do everything he promised.

His closeness had just hit you. His handsome face was in between your thighs. He lifted your legs over his shoulders. One of your feet was touching his back while the other dangled in the air.

Oh, how the tables have turned. The sharp contrast of his hot breath against the coolness of your skin made every inch of you hyperaware, each nerve ending alive with a mix of desperation and surrender. His large hands gripped your hips, not just to hold you, but to claim you, grounding you in the moment and reminding you that this was his domain now.

Taehyung felt your shaky breaths, the way body tensed. He looked up at you from between your legs– a sight for sore eyes.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, his voice gentle yet filled with an underlying edge of frustration. “Tell me what you need.” His hands caressed your hips.

You avoided his gaze, your voice trembling as you admitted, “I– I’ve never come from oral before…”

Taehyung’s expression softened with understanding, his eyes locking onto yours with unwavering determination. “It’s okay, baby,” he said gently. “I’m here to make sure you feel everything you need. Whether you cum or not, I’m going to savour every moment of eating you out.”

He leaned closer, his lips placed a small kiss on top of your pelvic bone. You groaned; your hips followed him.

“Allow me to explore you, baby. Please,” he murmured, his voice a low, comforting purr. 

His confidence and tenderness washed over you, helping to calm your nerves only a bit. You took a deep breath, allowing yourself to sink into the sensation of his touch. With a reassuring nod, you let go of the hesitation, trusting him completely.

“Or perhaps I should have made you pleasure yourself in front of me, just like you did for me,” he whispered, his lips barely brushing your inner folds, sending a wave of delicate shivers and hitches through your body. His breath was hot and teasing, skimming over your most sensitive spots without quite touching them.

His lips danced near your clit, your sweet opening, each breath he inhaled your scent and taste.

Since the beginning he let you control his body to your wish. By trusting that bratty thought, you pulled Taehyung straight to your core. 

Yet, Taehyung remained steadfast.

His eyes locked onto yours with an intense, piercing gaze, every bit of his dominance conveyed through that single look. His brow arched with an almost imperceptible challenge, his expression one of commanding authority despite his position.

Your core gushed. If he were stimulating you, even a little bit, you were sure you would squirt out.

Taehyung started kissing around your lips when your sweet hole was covered in sticky juice. He began with soft, teasing kisses, against your most sensitive skin. “God, you’re so wet,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, his voice laced nothing but raw hunger. “You need my lips here, baby?” He asked but didn’t wait for your answer.

Your core clenched, your spine shivered every time he let his lips press against your core. Taehyung smirked, clearly enjoying the power he had over you in that moment. He let out a low groan, the sound vibrating through you as he finally pressed a firm kiss to opening.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he muttered, his voice husky as his mouth filled with your taste. “I could spend forever down here, just tasting you, driving you wild until you can’t take it anymore.” With that, he dipped his tongue between your folds, moving slowly at first, savouring every drop of your wetness. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as your hips tried to move in their own.

He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, flicking strokes. His mouth worked you high and down. For a while he stayed face down in your core. His entire face was in contact with your core, which made you wetter than water. 

He quite literally ate you like a dinner. He welcomed every single drop, drag, and push his tongue into every crevice. 

Taehyung’s relentless focus on your core made it clear that this was maybe more about his pleasure than yours. And this fact didn’t make you mad at all. The way his tongue moved, the way he groaned and devoured you with such fervour—it was evident that he was utterly lost in the act. His lips, tongue, and even his nose dragged against your most sensitive skin, every movement calculated to keep you on the brink of madness.

You could feel how much he was enjoying it too. He was practically worshipping every inch of you with his mouth. His hands gripped your thighs with a possessive urgency, keeping you in place as if he couldn’t bear the thought of losing contact with you even for a second. He wasn’t just eating you out; he was indulging himself, drawing out every moan, every gasp, every drop of your arousal with a ravenous need that was both thrilling and overwhelming.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he growled against your slick skin, his voice hoarse with desire. He wasn’t just tasting you—he was savouring you, his tongue plunging deeper, swirling, flicking, exploring every inch of you like he couldn’t get enough.

Every time you tried to pull away, your body overwhelmed by the intensity, he would growl in protest, his hands tightening their grip, pulling you back to him. “Don’t you dare move, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He buried his face deeper, his tongue working you with a relentless rhythm that had you teetering on the edge. His moans vibrated through you, each one a reminder that he was doing this as much for his own pleasure as for yours. He was completely immersed in you, drinking in every bit of your essence like he was starved for it.

“God, I love this.” And then he was back at it, his mouth on you again, devouring you like he couldn’t get enough, like he never would.

You really wanted to orgasm from his mouth. You were crazy about this man. But every time you thought you might find some rhythm, he switched up his rhythm, keeping you on edge, driving you closer and closer to the brink.

Taehyung noticed the tension in your body, the way you were teetering on the edge but not quite able to tip over into the release you so desperately craved. His eyes flicked up to yours, a knowing glint in them, as if he could read your thoughts.

He decided without delay that it was time to push you over that edge. You have suffered enough of your own teasing. Also, he could tease you longer the next time.

With a renewed sense of purpose, he adjusted his grip on your hips, holding you firmly in place. His tongue began to work with an intensity that was almost overwhelming, circling and flicking your clit with a precision that had you gasping for breath. Each movement was deliberate, calculated, designed to bring you closer and closer to that elusive climax.

Your hands fisted the sheets beneath you, your body trembling with the effort of holding on. "Taehyung, I- If you want me to cum– finger me," you managed to gasp out, your voice laced with frustration and desperation.

Taehyung’s gaze never wavered, his smile shifting into something darker, more intense. “If that’s what you want…”

He had been pushing his long tongue in your hole, so you were fairly ready for him. Without breaking eye contact, he slipped his middle finger into you, the motion slow, deliberate, letting you feel every inch as he filled you. 

The sensation was immediate, almost overwhelming, the pressure of his fingers against your inner walls sending a jolt of pleasure through your entire body.

He didn’t rush. With his fingers buried deep inside you, he began to curl them with precision, searching for that spot he knew would make you unravel. His movements were purposeful, almost teasing, as if he were daring you to beg for more. All the while, his thumb brushed lightly against your clit, each touch calculated to push you closer to the edge.

"Is this what you craved, baby?" he murmured, his voice dripping with a mix of challenge and desire. "To feel my fingers inside you?” Your response was a choked moan, your hips arching off the bed, instinctively seeking more of his touch. Despite his calm demeanour, you were writhing on the bed, fisting the bedsheets and pillows. 

Taehyung’s eyes were locked onto yours, his expression a mix of intense focus and unrestrained desire. He watched your every movement, your writhings on the bed, and the way your hands fisted the bedsheets and pillows. The sight only fuelled his determination to push you further.

“Do you want another finger, baby?” he asked, his voice a sultry murmur as he curled his fingers inside you, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive you wild. Without waiting for a response, he slipped a second finger in, stretching you gently, his movements smooth and deliberate.

He could feel your walls clenching around him, your body reacting to every touch with increasing desperation. Taehyung’s thumb continued its relentless dance on your clit. 

His voice laced with a teasing edge, “Let’s see if you can cum now.” He didn’t wait for your reply. Instead, he bent his head lower, his lips capturing your clit with a hungry, determined fervour. His tongue flicked and swirled around it, sucking, and licking with a fervent intensity that had your body tensing and trembling under him.

As Taehyung’s lips enveloped your clit, a jolt of electrifying pleasure surged through you, pulling a strangled moan from your throat. His touch was relentless and insistent, each flick of his tongue pushing you further into a state of lustful delirium.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he growled against your sensitive flesh, his breath hot and moist. “I can’t get enough of you.” His words were rough, each syllable dripping with raw desire as his tongue licked and sucked with a fervent determination.

Your body arched instinctively towards him, hips thrusting up to meet his mouth, desperate for more. The sheets beneath you were tangled in your frantic movements, your hands clawing at them as if trying to hold onto the last shreds of control. Every stroke of his tongue felt like a wave crashing over you, dragging you deeper into the storm of pleasure.

“Please, Taehyung,” you begged, your voice ragged and trembling. “Don’t stop. I need this so badly. Please make me cum.” Your words were a mix of desperation and longing, a plea for the release that felt just out of reach.

Taehyung’s response was a low, approving groan, his mouth continuing its relentless assault. “You want it bad, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “In fact, you did since last night, right baby? I got your sweet pussy hot and bothered and didn’t fuck it.”

His fingers moved in sync with his tongue after he spitted filth. He thrusted in and out of you with a steady rhythm that had you stride towards your long-waited orgasm. The pressure inside you built with every pass of his tongue, each flick and swirl making your entire body shiver with anticipation.

“Fuck, Taehyung,” you cried out, the pleasure becoming almost too much to bear. “I’m so close.”

His tongue worked faster, harder, his mouth suctioning your clit in a way that had you almost screaming with need. “That’s it, baby,” he growled, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “Let go. Cum all over my face.”

The combination of Taehyung’s relentless tongue and the steady thrust of his fingers sent you spiralling into an intense orgasm. You gasped and trembled, your body shaking with the overwhelming release. Taehyung didn’t let up, his mouth still working its magic on you, his fingers gently coaxing out every last bit of pleasure.

When your orgasm hit you, you let out a loud groan that bordered a scream. Taehyung’s room was at the top level of the house he shared with his friends. Even though these sort of noises like this were common among the boys, Taehyung despised the thought of his friends hearing you so vulnerable.

“Be quiet, baby.” He warned you despite knowing you were on clouds, enjoying the pure bliss he granted you. 

At least that what Taehyung thought.

“Taehyung…” You gritted out. Your voice was shaky. Your body already went so soft under him. 

“Baby?” Taehyung worriedly reciprocated. Were you mad?

“I– I cannot b-believe…” You took in a shaky breath. 

Even though Taehyung had another serving of your delicious cunt in front of him, his worry came pass. He gently pulled back, releasing your legs from his grip, his face clouded with worry. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, his voice laced with apprehension. 

“Y-you made me cum… from— with your tongue…” You whispered. 

Taehyung laid over you, this time his very naked body pressed on yours. His sweaty body pressed onto yours. 

“Hmm…” He hummed as he kissed your shoulders.

“I never had that before…” You confessed. “I t-think it was a weak one but… still…” 

Taehyung’s brow furrowed as he tried to process your words, his eyes searching yours for clarity. But before he could respond, you reached up and cupped his face in your hands, your juices were already dried around his lips. 

Taehyung’s chest filled with compassion and love that he wanted to blurt out love poems for you, but you had other plans.

“I need you to fuck me.” You said directly, right at his face. 

Taehyung’s eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and eagerness. The initial shock of your direct request quickly gave way to a playful, almost goofy grin. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing, heated kiss.

“Mm, you’re really something else, you know that?” he murmured between kisses, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and desire. His hands roamed over your body, exploring the curves and contours with a familiar, but now more focused, touch. 

“You bring that out of me.” You said witty.

Taehyung’s smile widened; his amusement clear as he pressed another lingering kiss to your lips. “Good,” he murmured, his voice husky, “because I’m not planning on stopping anytime soon.”

As Taehyung’s lips trailed down your neck, his mind wandered through the possibilities, each one more tempting than the last. The desire to take you was palpable, but he wanted to do it exactly right, to make sure every moment was perfect.

The first image that came to his mind was the classic missionary position. It was his favourite for so many reasons. He wanted to be close to you, to feel every shiver, every tremble as he moved inside you. The thought of looking into your eyes, seeing the raw pleasure on your face as he thrust into you, sent a thrill through him. He imagined whispering in your ear, his lips brushing against your skin, his voice low and thick with desire. He knew how much you loved that, the way his words would send you over the edge. And if you got too loud—something he expected, considering how close you already were—he could cover your mouth with his hand, muffling your cries as he continued to drive you both toward ecstasy.

But then, another position crossed his mind. He pictured you lying on your side, with him spooning you from behind. It was intimate, close, and it allowed him to take you deeply while keeping you enveloped in his arms. The idea of holding you like that, his chest pressed against your back, his hand sliding down to play with your clit while he thrust into you, was incredibly enticing. You could do some cock-warming which he would greatly enjoy. Maybe it would calm you down slightly.

And then there was the third option, one he couldn’t get out of his head—he wanted to see you on top of him, riding him. The idea of you taking control, moving at your own pace, was a fantasy he’d played out in his mind many times. He wanted to watch you, your body moving above him, your hands resting on his chest as you guided him deeper inside you. But as he kissed you, feeling the way your body trembled with anticipation, he realized you were already too delirious with need for that. You were on the brink, your mind clouded with desire, and he knew that right now, you needed him to take control.

As these thoughts flashed through his mind, his lips never left your skin, his hands still roaming over your body. 

“Taehyung,” you whispered, trying to catch his attention, but he was lost in the rhythm of his own thoughts, his lips now brushing along your collarbone.

His response was a low, distracted hum, his focus still on the way your skin tasted under his lips. 

You were growing impatient, your need for him intensifying with every passing second.

That was it. Your frustration peaked, and with a surge of determination, you pushed him off you, sending him back onto his ass. For a moment, he assumed you wanted to take control, to ride him into oblivion, and his cocky grin spread wider across his face as he prepared himself for your move. He leaned back, propping himself up on his hands, fully expecting you to climb onto him and take what you wanted.

But you had something entirely different in mind.

Without a word, you turned around, getting on all fours in front of him. You arched your back, pushing your ass out toward him, an invitation so blatant it made his breath hitch. The sight of you like that, so open, so ready, was enough to make his cock throb with need. His eyes darkened as he took in the view, the way your wetness glistened, the way your body trembled with anticipation.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice rough with lust. The cocky confidence in his demeanour only intensified as he moved closer, his hands sliding over your hips, gripping them possessively. “Look at you… so eager, so fucking desperate for it.”

He ran his hands over your ass, squeezing the flesh firmly, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to leave a mark. The way you pushed back against him, the way you presented yourself, made him lose the last shred of restraint he had.

Without waiting for your next move, he positioned himself behind you, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance. He teased you with it, rubbing it against your slick folds, making you whimper with need.

Taehyung tried to line himself up behind you, eager to push into your warmth, but he noticed something that made him pause. You were a bit too low, and instead of sinking inside, the tip of his cock brushed frustratingly against your ass. 

Even though he was as eager for your puckered hole, he needed your cunt first.

A low chuckle escaped his lips, his voice dripping with playful mockery. “You’re too short, baby,” he teased, a smirk playing on his lips as he pulled back slightly. “How am I supposed to fuck you properly like this?”

Before you could respond, he moved with swift determination, his strong hands grabbing your waist and lifting you up slightly. He shifted your position, effortlessly manhandling you as if you weighed nothing. “Hold still,” he murmured, his voice filled with both amusement and lust.

Taehyung reached for a couple of pillows, tossing them down in front of you. He quickly rolled up a blanket, adding it to the makeshift mound. With a gentle push, he urged you to lean forward, guiding you to rest your chest on the soft pile, elevating your hips just enough to give him the perfect angle.

“There we go,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, admiring the way your ass was now perfectly presented for him. The new position made you even more vulnerable, your back arched and your body slightly elevated, just as he wanted.

His hands slid back to your hips, gripping them possessively as he positioned himself behind you again. “Much better,” he purred, his voice filled with satisfaction. “Now, you’re right where I want you.”

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he leaned down over you, his chest pressing against your back as he brought his lips close to your ear. He kissed your cheek softly, a stark contrast to the roughness that had just transpired. His breath was warm against your skin as he whispered, “Are you comfy, baby?” 

You wrapped your hand back around his head, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, a soft moan escaping your lips.

He was all over you. His weight pressed you down to the mattress so sweetly as if your bones were craving his touch. His presence consumed and grounded you. You pulled him closer, fingers tightening in his hair, not wanting to lose even an inch of contact.

Taehyung’s breath was hot against your cheek, each exhale sending a shiver down your spine. His hands, firm and steady, moved over your waist, tracing the curve of your hips. You could feel the roughness of his fingertips, the deliberate way he touched you, as if memorizing your shape. There was no rush in his movements, only a deep, aching intensity.

You arched slightly, pressing back against him, seeking more of his warmth. He responded with a low hum, his lips brushing your ear, a soft and almost teasing touch. Every moment felt heavy, charged with a raw energy that made your heart pound in your chest.

The intimacy of his touch, combined with the warmth of his breath, made your heart race and your body ache with desire.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice trembling with a mixture of need and vulnerability. “Please…”

Taehyung’s lips curled into a satisfied smile against your skin. “Are you going to tell me if you feel uncomfy?”

Your back arched, a frustrated whimper escaping you as you managed a breathy, “God, yes!”

“Good.” he murmured, his voice both commanding and soothing.

He kissed down your shoulders, as far as his position allowed, each touch of his lips a mix of tenderness and hunger. The way his mouth moved over your skin was a stark contrast to the tension in the air, the gentle kisses only heightening the anticipation of what was to come.

You let out a deep, satisfied groan, your body responding instinctively to his touch. “Ugh, I should definitely make you give me a massage sometime,” you murmured, your voice filled with both admiration and a hint of playful demand.

Taehyung’s hands continued their rhythmic motion, a smile curling on his lips at your words. “Whenever you want, baby. I am at your service.” he replied.

When his touch moved closer to your hips, his breath grew heavier, and his teasing touches became more purposeful. His cock, which never came down, was hard and aching. He brushed against your entrance, the tip teasingly grazing your wet folds. Each slight contact sent waves of pleasure through you and him. Both of you needed a few moments before another touch.

He shifted slightly, positioning himself with practiced ease. The tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, teasing you with its proximity. “How does my dick feel against you, baby?” he asked, his tone filled with a mix of arrogance and longing. 

“Beg for it,” he demanded, his voice dark with authority. “Beg for me to fuck you like you did last night.”

You moaned, your voice trembling with desperation as you pushed back against him, trying to impale yourself on his cock. “Please, Taehyung… I need you. Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Please, I’m begging you.”

The sound of your pleas sent a jolt of satisfaction through him. He thrust into you with one powerful motion, burying himself deep inside you, the force of it knocking the breath out of you. The sensation was overwhelming, the perfect blend of pleasure and pain, and you cried out his name, your voice filled with unrestrained ecstasy.

“Such a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his voice low and dripping with lust. “You are somehow infatuated with my dick, aren’t you, you filthy girl?”

Taehyung didn’t hold back after your desperate mewl. His hands gripped your hips tightly. The tight hold hid how his hands shook. Your ass fit snuggly as he pushed himself in very slowly.

His breath hitched as he began to push in, inch by inch, feeling the warmth of you envelop him. It was almost too much—the way you fit around him, so perfectly snug, as if made just for him.

Taehyung’s grip on your hips somewhat. He wanted to savour this moment. He needed to memorise every single crevice that he could touch. He needed to feel you with five sense he had. A low groan escaped his lips as he pushed in further, every slow movement making his heart pound harder. He could feel the tremble in his own thighs, shaking like noodles. 

His slow, deliberate thrusts made you feel every inch of him. He was big—almost too big—and you could feel every ridge and curve as he pushed in deeper, the fullness bordering on overwhelming. 

It didn’t hurt physically. You were plentily wet and seriously gaping for him. It was the teasing that drove you into frustration. It was the way he moved, controlled and precise, making sure you remembered he was the one in charge.

“God, you’re so tight,” Taehyung murmured, his voice thick with arousal. His breath was throaty, and you could hear the strain in his voice as he struggled to maintain control. “Can you feel how deep I am, baby? How I’m filling you up completely?”

You nodded, unable to form words, your body reacting instinctively as you pushed back against him, trying to take him even deeper. The pressure was intense, almost too much, but it was exactly what you craved. 

He tsked when you tried to force, “Nah, baby. We can’t have you split open.” He looked at where you meet.

The sight before him was intense. He saw the way his cock stretched you, the flush of your skin blending with the dark red of his own. Your petals, slick with your arousal, parted around him, struggling to accommodate his girth. The delicate, glistening folds framed him perfectly. He could see the faint shimmer of your essence as it mixed with the base of his cock, creating a sensual, wet contrast that drove him wild.

He groaned, the sound low and guttural, vibrating through your back where his chest pressed against you. “Fuck, you’re so tight around me,” he said, his voice a mixture of awe and desperation. “It’s like you’re made for my cock. You’re taking me so well, baby.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the rawness of them only amplifying the sensations coursing through you. Taehyung’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he held you in place, his thrusts becoming more deliberate even though he was not fully in. 

You could feel the distance between his crotch and your ass. He was definitely not letting you take all of him. The size of him was concerning. He did take his time to get you ready, which was totally hot of him. Whenever he pushed further than before, it made you feel as if you were about to come apart at the seams.

You gasped, your breath hitching as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. “You’re so big,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of awe and pleasure. “I can feel you everywhere.”

Taehyung chuckled softly, the sound dark and filled with satisfaction. “Is that so, baby?” he whispered softly, his voice sending a thrill through your body. He pulled his dick out to see your gaping hole. You were right. He was stretching you out. With a sudden forceful thrust, he pushed himself in. “I want you to feel every inch of me.”

“Taehyung!” you cried out, your voice high and desperate, your hands flew to grab his but failed. 

Taehyung didn’t answer to your loud ass scream other than soothing rubs. 

Again, he pulled back slightly, just enough to relieve you with the emptiness before thrusting back in, filling you completely once more. The stretch was almost too much but so sweet.

You seemed to better accommodate his length now. Your muscles clenched around him, trying to wrap around his size.

“Fuck, Taehyung,” you moaned, your voice a mix of pleasure and desperation. “You are really something else.”

“Shh,” he hushed you. “This was what you were begging for.”

His words were like a drug. Each thrust was deliberate, slow, and intense, his cock dragging against your walls, making you hyper-aware of every inch of him. You could feel your own wetness coating him, making the glide easier, but no less overwhelming.

“How much left?” You pulled yourself up on your hands, managing to turn your head slightly to glance back at Taehyung.

Taehyung’s eyes were locked on where you met, his gaze dark with lust as he watched himself move inside you. He winked when you made eye contact.

His muscles were tensed, each movement of his body revealing the defined contours of his chest and shoulders. He looked like he was in the middle of a workout with the way his arms flexed as he gripped your hips, the way his torso moved with each thrust.

Taehyung’s breath was ragged, each exhale matching the rhythm of his movements, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles strained as he held back, maintaining that agonizingly slow pace. “Not much baby. You’re doing good. You are perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice rough with need. “So fucking perfect.”

Your body responded to his praise, tightening around him, drawing him in even deeper. The fullness was almost too much, and yet you craved more, wanted to be stretched to your limit. The sensation of him filling you so completely made you feel like you were on the edge of something profound, and you knew that with just a little more, you would tip over that edge into pure bliss.

There were no slapping sounds still as Taehyung continued to hold back. To match up to his movements, you started to push your ass. He smiled, stilled his thrust. He decided to let you pick your pace to ease any pain he might cause.

You groaned annoyingly when he came into a full stop, and you quickened your pace. The bedding under you shook as you tried your best to fuck yourself on his cock. 

“Oh, baby…” Taehyung’s voice was low and filled with an edge of approval.

“You’re so eager,” he murmured, his voice a mix of admiration and satisfaction. “Look at that ass.” He couldn’t help but give your ass a slap, watching it bounce .

“You’re fucking me so good, baby,” he murmured, the words slipping out in a tone that was almost submissive, but you knew better. He was playing a game, one you both loved.

He let out a soft whine, his hips rolling into you just enough to make you crave more. “You’re in control,” he said, his voice trembling with feigned vulnerability. “Make me yours, fuck me how you want…”

His words were like a spark to dry tinder, igniting a fire deep within you. The power he was giving you, or rather pretending to give you, made your blood sing with excitement. You pushed back against him, trying to force him deeper, needing to feel every inch of him inside you. But he could see how you were struggling and striving to meet his every thrust now that his strong hold didn’t ground you still. The soft mattress made you shaky.

You pushed back against him with all the strength you could muster, trying to find a rhythm, but the soft mattress made it difficult. Your movements were unsteady, your body shaky as you struggled to keep up with the game Taehyung was playing. His cock was deep inside you, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more, craved the intensity that only he could give you.

A small, frustrated whimper escaped your lips, and Taehyung’s soft laugh filled the space between you. He could see how hard you were trying, how desperately you wanted to take control, but he wasn’t going to let you have it. Not really.

“Is that the best you can do?” he teased, his voice dripping with playful mockery. “Come on, baby, show me how much you want it.”

You tried again, pushing back harder, trying to meet his thrusts with your own, but he just watched you with that smug smile on his face. The effort it took was exhausting, your muscles straining as you attempted to match his pace, but every time you thought you had it, he’d pull back, just enough to throw you off balance.

“Is it difficult, baby?” He asked mockingly.

Finally, with a low, satisfied hum, Taehyung shifted. His hands gripped your hips again, this time with a firmness that sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers dug into your flesh, grounding you, holding you in place.

Taehyung’s grip tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he anchored you against him. The sudden, commanding hold sent a shockwave of anticipation through your body. You could feel the heat of his breath on the back of your neck, each exhale a reminder of how close he was, how deep he was inside you. The softness of the mattress underneath you only heightened the sensation of his firm touch, the contrast making every movement feel more intense.

He leaned in, his chest pressing against your back as his hand slowly slid up your spine, fingers tracing each vertebra with a deliberate slowness. The touch was almost reverent, a stark contrast to the roughness of his hold on your hips. You felt the way your body responded to him, how your skin tingled under his touch, every nerve ending alive with the need for more. 

“You feel so fucking good,” Taehyung murmured, his voice low and filled with a raw edge that sent a shiver through you. “I can feel you tightening around me, baby. You want to cum, don’t you?”

You nodded, unable to form words, your breath hitching as he pulled back slightly, only to thrust into you with a controlled, powerful motion. The force of it made you gasp, your fingers clutching at the sheets as you tried to ground yourself. But there was no escaping the sensation of him filling you so completely, the pressure almost overwhelming.

Taehyung’s hand reached up to your hair, tangling his fingers in the strands. With a firm but careful tug, he pulled your head back, arching your spine in a way that made you feel exposed, vulnerable, and yet completely connected to him. The sensation of your back arching under his control sent a wave of pleasure through you, the pull on your hair only heightening the intensity.

“Look at you, baby,” he whispered against your ear, his voice dark and dripping with satisfaction. “You’re mine. Every inch of you, mine to fuck, mine to make cum.”

His words sent a shudder through you, the rawness of his tone matching the way your body trembled under his control. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat syncing with the rhythm of his thrusts as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. The fullness of him inside you, the way his body moved against yours, the rough pull of your hair—it all combined to create a sensation so intense, so overwhelming, that you felt like you were about to unravel.

“Cum for me,” Taehyung commanded, his voice deep and authoritative, leaving no room for hesitation. “I want to feel you fall apart around me.”

The command sent you spiralling, the tight coil of pleasure in your core snapping as you tumbled over the edge. “Baby…” You whimpered as your body convulsed around him, your walls tightening, gripping him as you came with a force that took your breath away. A cry escaped your lips, your entire body shuddering in his hold as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

Taehyung let out a deep, primal groan, the sound vibrating through his chest as he felt you clench around him. The way your body tightened, trembling, and squeezing him, drove him over the edge. With one final, powerful thrust, he pulled your hair tighter, holding you in place as he came hard, filling you to the brim with every drop. His body shuddered as he emptied himself inside you.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sounds in the room being the heavy breaths you both shared, the lingering echoes of your release hanging in the air. Slowly, his grip on your hair loosened, his hand trailing down your back as he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your shoulder, a soft contrast to the intensity of what had just transpired. Then, slowly, Taehyung pulled out of you, collapsing onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

He reached out, pulling you into his arms, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “You’re fucking amazing.”

You were still trembling slightly, the aftershocks of your orgasm rippling through your body as you lay there, wrapped in Taehyung’s arms. His warmth surrounded you, the strong beat of his heart steady against your back, grounding you in the moment. The room was quiet, save for the sound of your breathing slowly calming in sync, the earlier intensity now replaced by a peaceful stillness.

Taehyung’s hand moved up to your face, his fingers brushing a few stray strands of hair away from your forehead. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the firm, commanding hold he’d had on you just moments ago. He pressed another kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull away.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice still a little rough from the exertion. There was a tenderness in his tone now, a softness that made your heart swell.

You turned in his arms to face him, your eyes meeting his. The intensity in his gaze had softened, replaced by something more intimate, more vulnerable. You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’m more than okay.”

His lips curved into a lazy smile, one that made your chest tighten with affection. “Good,” he murmured, his hand trailing down your arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. “Because you just took everything I had to give.”

You chuckled softly, the sound easing the last of the tension that had been coiled in your muscles. “I could say the same to you,” you teased, your fingers brushing over his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch.

He let out a contented hum, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a protective hold. “I love you,” he whispered, the words slipping out so naturally, so effortlessly, that it took a moment for them to fully register.

You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat. His eyes were soft, filled with an emotion so deep and genuine that it made your breath catch. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no doubt—just the pure, unfiltered truth of how he felt.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling within you. The words felt right, as if they’d been waiting to be spoken, to be shared in this quiet, intimate moment.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss, one that spoke of everything you’d just shared and everything you would continue to share. It wasn’t the enthusiastic, desperate kiss from before, but something deeper, more profound—a kiss that sealed a promise, a bond that had only grown stronger.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes half-closed as he basked in the afterglow of the moment. “What do you wanna have for breakfast?” he said softly, his breath warm against your lips.

You smiled up at him, still catching your breath, your heart slowly returning to its normal rhythm. “How about I take you to my favourite brunch place? It’s on me,” you offered, your voice soft and content. The thought of sharing a lazy morning together, enjoying good food and each other’s company, made your chest feel warm.

Taehyung’s eyes sparkled with interest, a grin spreading across his face. “That sounds perfect,” he said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. 

“But first… maybe we should catch a little more sleep,” you added with a yawn, feeling the pull of exhaustion from the intensity of the night.

Without another word, he pulled you closer, your bodies fitting together comfortably on the soft mattress. His arm wrapped around you, drawing you into his warmth as your eyes fluttered shut. Within moments, you felt yourself drifting off, your head nestled against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

And as you both fell asleep, the promise of a cozy morning and a delicious brunch hung in the air, waiting for you when you woke up.

————

If you like this, please give it a like and reblog. Also, you MUST check my other works. masterlist |  inexperienced | you’re mine | Spoiled |take a break | heat | Puppy Daddy |

[perfectlyoongi]

BOYFRIEND!TAEHYUNG who takes showers with you just for the intimacy. it was the silence of the moment, the purity of the intimacy, the way you two felt so comfortable with each other with something that had become so vile and perverse by society, that made Taehyung venerate your baths together; no words, just Taehyung's gentle touch across your body, as you rest on his chest and feel the tranquility of your love. “i like this, you know? of our intimacy. how none of us feel obliged to be something other than ourselves.”

BOYFRIEND!TAEHYUNG who only trusts your opinion when it comes to his clothes. before leaving the house or when he goes shopping, Taehyung always asks your opinion about his outfit, patiently waiting for your honest reaction, never feeling bad when the feedback comes back negative — after all, he just wanted to continue to impress you, it was only your opinion that mattered. “tomorrow i have to buy a new coat. do you want to come with me? i would like to have your opinion.”

BOYFRIEND!TAEHYUNG who loves coming home and lying down with you, his head resting on your chest. Taehyung couldn't live a whole day without having your affection; in an extremely stressful and quite complicated job, it was in your arms that Taehyung found peace and serenity, the way you touched his hair, his face, his arm, took Taehyung to a distant land of dreams and rest. “today was so tiring. all i could think about was how you would be here for me and make me feel good again.”

BOYFRIEND!TAEHYUNG who takes your perfume with him on tour, just so he can deal with missing you. it was a simple memory, something that could last the long weeks of touring the world without ever losing its value; your perfume was intoxicating, something so delicate and beautiful that made Taehyung remember all the hugs and kisses and caresses and moments he had spent with you. “i promise i won’t spend it all. please. i really need something that reminds me of you or i'll go crazy. seriously!”

BOYFRIEND!TAEHYUNG who accompanies you on any and all purchases you make just to share some mundane time with you. whether it was for groceries or clothes, an electronic item or a gift for someone, Taehyung was always by your side, giving his opinion, holding your hand and always walking with a smile on his lips because he was next to the one he loved. “oh, do you need help picking a gift? i don't mind going with you. can i? i just want to feel normal for a moment. please.”

BOYFRIEND!TAEHYUNG who watches the stars and clouds with you while trying to discover shapes and meanings among them. lying on the grass, your head on his belly, you and Taehyung told stories with the various shapes you saw in the sky, laughter flowing as naturally as time passed, endless memories of tales created comforting your hearts. “that star is so bright! oh, and next to it those stars form a heart. see? even the heavens believe that our future will be bright.”

BOYFRIEND!TAEHYUNG who only said he loved you when you confessed first, a huge weight leaving his heart as soon as the words left his mouth. as soon as he heard your confession, Taehyung's heart began to beat quickly without having any time to assimilate what he just had heard, his words running after yours to try to embrace them. “oh, thank god. yes. finally. i love you. i love you. i love you so much. oh my god.”

[1-800-ur-cyber-slxtt]

would it be possible to write another w2s smut? i eat them up theyre so good 😭😭

𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒; 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐒

summary: harry and reader are friends, nothing else. sure sometimes they flirt, sometimes their eyes linger on one another for a minute or two longer than a friends gaze should but that means nothing, right? one night after their friend group goes out drinking reader and harry end up back at his apartment, neither of them thinking straight. and when morning rolls around reader flees.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: smut, unprotected, p in v, walk of shame, drunk sex, shitty writing, ???

notes: definitely seems to call for a part two. comment ideas, e.g, they get together, hook up or things go bad and it ruins their friendship. this took me quite awhile to write and I feel like it sucks but thank you for the request! hope everyone enjoys!

divider credit: @xxbimbobunnyxx 

One shot turned into four, four turned into six and six turned into a number I’d come to regret even more when I woke up tomorrow. 

The alcohol quickly turned into liquid courage as soon as it slid down my throat. The same had happened to Harry, his usual awkward self turning confident, brave enough for us to both end up back at his apartment, clothes gone, abandoned in a trail leading to his room. 

His lips lay wet open mouthed kisses along my neck, sloppy but desperate. His bare chest grazing mine with each movement, my legs hooked around his waist, keeping him close. 

Neither of us were thinking straight, thoughts replaced with a primal need. Once morning rolled around and we’d both come to realise what we’d done, what would happen from there I wasn’t sure but I had a feeling it would alter our friendship forever. For the better or worse. But for now our bodies stay intertwined, moving in sync and drowning in desire. 

My manicured nails travel up his back, feeling the softness of his skin until they reach his head, fingers raking through the short blonde hair and tugging on it. A groan falls from his lips next to my ear, the sound sending a jolt of desperation straight between my thighs.

Harry and I had been friends for years but not once had we involved in anything romantic. Sure there was the occasional flirty banter, lingering stares and what could only be described as handsy moments, but nothing had ever happened. 

One of Harry’s large hands gripped at my thigh, holding it by his hip, the other rested on the bed just above my head. “Waited so long.”, he grunts voice gruff with desire, the tip of his cock spreading open my folds but never fully entering.

Soft whimpers spill from my swollen lips. My nails dig into the skin of his shoulder, leaving behind thin red marks. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as I’m sure he could mine everytime our lips met.

Involuntarily my hips buck up, searching for any kind of relief. The movement causing Harry’s throbbing cock to slide inside of me, a sharp gasp coming from both of us. He didn’t waste anymore time, his hips thrusting in and out at a fast pace. The heels of my feet digging into his lower back. A pain that only added to the pleasure.  

My head was dizzy from both the alcohol and arousal. “S’ good.”, the blond slurs as he buries himself deeper, his head coming down to nuzzle in the crook of my neck, sucking and biting messily. 

My head tilts up into the pillow beneath giving greater access to Harry. The hand on my thigh travels up my body, groping at my tit. He rolls the hard bud between two fingers, moans and whimpers echoing through the room. 

His hips roll against mine. His lips trailing down my body until he reaches my nipple, pinched between two fingers as his tongue swirls around the hardened bud. My back arches up into him, his movements losing their rhythm and becoming erratic. 

My climax was close approaching, drawing nearer with every snap of his hips into mine. My words seem to come out even more slurred, barely a coherent sentence, “Almost-, can’t-” 

Harry’s head nods feverishly, his eyes unfocused and hazy. He knew what I meant because he was feeling the same, everytime my walls clenched around him, his cock twitched, so desperate for release. 

My name falls from his lips like honey, as does his from mine. We rock back and forward, the pair of us a sweaty mess, reaching our highs simultaneously. My body shakes and shudders under his, the hot coil in my stomach tightening before it snaps. 

Trying to find an anchor I dig my nails into the flesh of his shoulder and large bicep. My legs barely have the strength to stay wrapped around him. My head spins, mind clouded with ecstasy. 

Harry keeps up his unrhythmic thrusts as ripples of pleasure run along my body leaving goosebumps in their wake. With a final string of moans and cries I reach my climax, pulsing and squeezing around Harry’s length. 

He gets me through my orgasm, chasing his own. Our breathing is heavy and ragged, mine disrupted by soft whimpers, sensitive to the over stimulation. It doesn’t last long however, as Harry summons a final sharp thrust, releasing in a hot spurt. 

He pulls out and collapses next to me, taking me into his arms. He lifts an arm and moves away a piece of hair from my face. We share a smile. “You were so great.”, Harry husks, voice hoarse. 

Exhausted we soon fall into a deep slumber, wrapped up in eachother. Nothing had to be said tonight, neither of us were in a state to be talking.  

The sun rose outside, sunlight streaking through the curtains and covering the room in rays of golden light. The morning came with a throbbing headache and a fuzzy memory. It took me a minute to register the weight against my waist, another to realise it was an arm. 

I follow the arm to find Harry lying on his stomach, face pressed into the pillow facing the other direction. The sight of him and his messy hair, marked back and the state of the sheets wrapped around our very naked bodies cause the memories to come flooding back. 

I watch the slow rise and fall of his body, making sure he’s still asleep. Confident that he is, I carefully try to slip out from under him, untangling our legs first. He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. 

Finally out from under him, I begin gathering my clothes. Upon realising most of them were outside of Harry's room I let out a curse under my breath, silently praying that I wouldn’t get caught by his roommates, our friends.

Luckily, my bra and panties were in Harry’s room. Once I’d gotten them on I sheepishly made my way out into the main living area. I’d only been to Harry’s apartment a couple of times before but the surroundings were still familiar. I close his door behind me slowly, hoping to avoid a loud squeak or click. 

As I turn around to continue my quest of finding last night's outfit, I’m startled by a tall Calfreezy standing on the other side of the living room near the kitchen, cup of coffee in hand. The both of us are frozen in place, the same stunned look on both our faces. 

“Cal.”, I stammer unsure of how to approach the situation at hand. I stay standing before him in nothing but my undergarments, Harry blissfully unaware and asleep in the room next to me.

Cal finally lifts the mug to his lips, he speaks before he takes a sip, “So that’s where the two of you got to last night.” I don’t miss the slight smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips, a knowing gleam in his eyes. 

I swallow, nodding my head slowly. Now not only would I have to deal with Harry but also endure the torment from the rest of our friends that Cal would no doubt tell. “I think I’m just gonna get my clothes…”, I say awkwardly, an embarrassed blush forming on my cheeks. 

In the moment I couldn’t find anything lighthearted to say to lighten the mood. Cal however did not have the same problem, “Not gonna stay for a cuppa?”, he pauses briefly before he lets out a tut, “Walking out on a one night stand before he wakes up, Y/n? Classy.” 

I start gathering my clothes, his comment draws a chuckle from me. “I think I would rather not stay to suffer the awkwardness of the morning after conversation.” I slip on my short skirt followed by my even skimpier top. Nothing like the walk of shame. 

“Fair enough.”, Cal decides, taking another sip. He goes into the kitchen to put his (what I assume is now empty) mug in the sink. I take a seat on the couch to put on my shoes. I went as fast as I could, a quick exit was the best exit. By surprise my purse was here too, along with my phone inside. Wouldn’t have been the first time I’d lost them on a night out.

“So, you and Harry, eh?”, the tall blonds voice rings through the air as he walks back in, now without the cup. 

I don’t know how to respond, I didn’t have any of the answers to the questions Cal had. I shrug my shoulders, “It was nothing.” Maybe that was harsh, maybe it wasn’t, either way Cal doesn’t comment. He just simply nods as I stand up. 

“I’ll see you then.”, I give him a small smile before I keep heading to the door. I hear a quick ‘yeah’ from behind me and that’s that. 

I go out the door and I don’t look back. 

[mikassaviola]

Release | KTH

One Shot

Description: Reader is really horny and needs to cum, only one person can make her, her ex boyfriend. So she finds herself at his apartment begging for him to fuck her.

Warnings: Porn with little plot, begging, oral (f receiving), degradation, titty sucking, choking, rough sex, orgasm denial (f), multiple orgasms (m), powerhouse Taehyung (iykyk), putting reader in place, sexy Taehyung, mention of shower sex.

A/N: here goes nothing.... With my first smut.

-------------------------------------------------

It had been 2 months since your break up. Two months since you orgasmed. No you didn't have sex with anyone else because you already knew it'd end up in you being disappointed.

You were ruined by Taehyung, being together in a healthy sexual relationship for so long does that to you.

You were over jealous that day when a girl offered to pour him a drink and he accepted it.

Never apologized to you, never came back, didn't text but fuck it. Fuck everything.

You reached out your hand to press the bell outside his apartment, it was almost 3 am and you were craving his touch.

So much that you think you'd die. You heard the rustling behind the door, didn't know how he'd react seeing you after this long.

Didn't know if he wanted you to be there or not, you were ready to beg. For him to take you in. Love you, spoil you, touch you, fuck you.

You fiddled with your t-shirt, a grey one with grey trousers and black sneakers.

It was 3 am after all. The door opened and your heart hammered inside your chest at the sight of him.

Gorgeous, dark black messy hair falling slightly over his eyes and slightly loose black t-shirt and trousers. Fuck.

"Are you okay?", He asked startled to see you this late. His mind wandering to multiple possibilities never too close to the reason you were actually at his doorstep.

"No?", You said more like questioned as he stepped aside and you entered. You can talk to him.

Talk about shit, everything. But your body ached for him. You faced him after he closed the door. He was so hot.

Gorgeous. Handsome. Beautiful. Ethereal. Unreal. Flawless.

"What hap-", He was cut off when you stepped forward pressing your body to his, pressing your lips on his.

Fuck his pretty mouth can talk to you later.

Your hands went around his neck, pulling him closer and closer. He was quick to catch you in his arms, his huge hands going around your back pressing it to pull you closer.

You were weak, vulnerable. His slight action made you whimper in his mouth.

Taehyung groaned when his crotch pressed into your lower abdomen and you felt his hardness. He just woke up after all.

"Please Taehyung fuck me, I can't"- You took a step back taking off your t-shirt and then continuing. "Take it anymore".

Taehyung's gaze landed on your breast, he sucked in a breath. You must've taken a cab to come here.

Your nipples were already hard. You were in a cab with no bra as you came here. Taehyung thought and found it so hot.

Two months he had been craving to see you and here you were equally if not more eager to let him fuck you.

"Ah baby wanna get fucked? Is that the problem? Is that why you're here at fucking 3 am?", Taehyung asked, his voice getting deeper. Eyes getting hazy as he pulled you in by your hair and kissed you hard.

You were equally eager, matching his pace, his hand roaming on your body as he pulled away and squeezed your left boob a little harshly.

"Say it", He said pressing you on the wall making you gasp.

"Yes, please", You murmured, taking off your shoes trying to get as close as possible.

The familiar cologne, his scent, his touch, his body. You had it right now.

"Fuck, you threw us all away though", Taehyung mocked pulling your body to his making you whine as he pulled you in his embrace walking to his bedroom.

"'M sorry baby, please just make me cum", You cried out when he threw you on the bed and pulled on your trousers, completely naked.

"Yeah? Aren't you just being greedy?", He said standing tall over your laying frame as he pulled up his t-shirt giving you the view you desired to see.

Then he comes to you. (Like he's doing in the gif)

His hand is tracing up your thighs making your body warm, pussy wet, back buckled.

You swear you could cry, and he didn't even touch your clit yet.

"Do you want it here?", Taehyung asked pressing his index finger on your clit making you moan.

"P-please", You moaned out feeling the pressure that was increasing as he rubbed your slit up and down. Up and down.

Making you whine and moan but not doing anything else. "You are so fucking wet darling", Taehyung mused making you shudder.

Taehyung suffered too, you were childish. Throwing away everything for something that could've been solved through simple talk and Taehyung smirked enjoying how you came to him.

He didn't imagine it to be this way. You were always reserved but here you were moaning out his name as he pressed his lips on your clit and entered two fingers inside without a warning.

"Fuck, so full Tae -ah-", You murmured, you moaned. Pressing his head further into your cunt as he pumped his fingers in and out his other hand cupping your boob making you whine out.

"So good", You moaned as his fingers curled around your g spot, his tongue rolling around your hole tasting you and just when you were about to let go he pulled back.

"Taehyung what the fuck", You choked out as he looked at you with a smirk getting up and pulling his trousers down.

"You think you'd come to me after months like an irresponsible greedy whore and I'd do what you want", He hissed taking his huge thick length in his hands as you breathed out heavily just staring at him grieving due to the loss of your orgasm.

He pumped himself once, twice.

"I'll do anything", You whispered and he climbed over you looking into your eyes intensely.

"Anything you say", He said pushing himself inside you in an instant making you gasp.

"Taehyung fuck", You said and he groaned.

"Fuck you're so fucking tight, no one fucked you good when I wasn't there huh?", He rambled, your hands roaming over his body settling on his back when he pulled all the way out and pushed back in.

"Ah, you fuck you got bigger", You moaned pulling his head and kissing his lips as he started thrusting into you.

Fast and hard thrusts making your body rub roughly against his bedsheet as the bed creaked.

"My girl, my pussy, my fucking cunt", Taehyung growled pulling up your right leg to put over his shoulder pushing his dick further in filling you completely.

"Ah fuck I'm gonna"-

"Hold it", Taehyung said, the authority in hsi voice made you shiver. His thrusts never stop. He was pounding into you.

And you loved every single touch of him. You missed this. You missed him.

You missed him fucking you like this.

"I can't anymore ah", You cried out fisting his bed sheet as his hand found your neck.

"Hold", He simply said and after a few thrusts came inside you, filling you up completely and then pulled out, leaving you hanging on the brink.

You had tears in your eyes.

"You're so mean", You whimpered a few tears escaping your eyes out of all the frustration. The build up in your stomach reduces to nothing as your pussy aches for more.

You sobbed as Taehyung smiled.

"Aw my poor innocent baby, thought she could get what she wanted after putting me through shit for two months", Taehyung cooed kissing your cheek making you whimper. His hands drawing circles on your waist as he sucked on your neck.

"Taehyung, I please. Please please please let me -ah- cum", You said in between sobs as he marked you going lower until he had your nipple in his mouth.

He rolled the other one around in his hand, rolling, pinching, squeezing.

"Please fuck me!?", You asked again softly, innocently. It catches Taehyung's attention as he looks at you. Your hazy brown eyes. Slightly teary, desperate asking for you to fuck him.

"Good girl, let me do that, hm?", He murmured holding the underside of your knees and pressing them to your chest and just stared at your cunt for a while.

"Baby you're leaking out so much", Taehyung ended the sentences while entering you.

"Fuck", You squeezed your eyes shut, your cunt sucked him in again as he started thrusting again.

"My little cock slut, so greedy", Taehyung sighs thrusting deeper and harder making his cum leak out of your pussy as you moaned.

"Please just please", you choked out, had no idea what you wanted now that he gave everything to you well except for an orgasm.

"Fucking cunt was made for me, huh? The audacity to take it away", Taehyung growled completely in control, your legs shaking from the pressure he was putting on them.

Just when your squeezes get tighter, moans become higher and all senses of sanity fly out of your mind Taehyung stops and pulls out, pumping himself a few times and comes over your waist leaving you hanging. Again.

-

"Please please let me cum this time, please Taehyung", You cried begging in hopes that he'd listen to you.

"Mhm, my slut thinks she deserves to cum", Taehyung mused pounding hard into your cunt having already cum four times inside you.

You were shaking and trembling and sore but you needed to cum.

"Fuck", Taehyung whined cumming into you and pulling out again making you cry.

"Please", You almost scream from the frustration so Taehyung put 3 fingers in your cunt.

"Cum", He said pumping into you cunt.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. And you came, harder than you've ever done, letting go.

The ache disappearing but Taehyung didn't stop. The pleasure took you over the moon as you moaned more.

"Holy shit baby, give it to me. So weak for me", He said and you realised what was happening you squirted. Your moaning didn't stop, letting out a shaky sigh when you were done.

"You are mean", You said to Taehyung after a while of catching your breath. He sat you on his lap kissing your eyes and tear strained cheeks, rubbing your back.

"Mm, deserved", He murmured into your lips kissing you softly tracing your thighs that doesn't look like they'll stop shaking.

"I'm sorry for everything", You sighed simply leaning your head on his shoulder.

"I know, you could've cummed but held on, did so well for me. My good girl", Taehyung said kissing your neck and then carrying you up.

"I'll sort out the sheets, you turn on the shower, will be right back", Taehyung smiled kissing your cheek and you smiled back turning on the shower and setting it on mildly warm.

Taehyung joined you after a good ten minutes.

"Missed you", You said wrapping your hands around him making him smile.

"Mhm, I know", He said turning you around, pressing your front on the wall and aligning his dick on your entrance.

"Taeh-", You gasped when he entered.

"Be a good girl and we'll cum together, yeah?", Taehyung murmured and you just moaned getting ready for another round.

[junosmindpalace]

May I request Senku developing a crush on his childhood friend after the petrification? fem!reader if possible (if not gn!reader is completely fine)

hope you have a good day :)

Something is different. 

Senku isn’t referring to his environment, which is so far removed from everything he used to know and love. Instead of brick buildings and concrete pavements, there is seemingly never ending forestry, green and gravel beneath the heels of his makeshift shoes. 

It isn’t Senku’s clothing, which is only some thin tattered animals skins that he had spent days working to hunt down the material for, then skin, then tan, and then stitch together with whatever he could to make the haphazard, ugly garment he wears on the regular to provide him with whatever kind of protection from the elements he can with the resources available to him. It’s a stark contrast to the color he used to wear long ago. 

It isn’t even the new friends (and enemies) he’s made since freeing himself from his petrified state. A whole village of people, now, who look toward him for guidance and instruction, upon him with admiration and reverence. People who help him against the newfound stakes, newfound work, newfound responsibilities that haven’t in the slightest been easy to take on. 

Something is different, and amongst nearly everything in his life becoming dirt and dust nearly overnight, Senku is referring to something different about you. 

But he isn’t referring to the environment he’s used to seeing you in, a school setting, perhaps a park, maybe his own room. There’s no new observation to make about a change in your room or a decoration in your locker, because like him, those things are long gone. 

It isn’t your appearance, a similar reflection of your new environments and state of the world. Random pieces of tanned skin poorly stitched into something that resembled clothing, a Frankenstien’s monster of a garment. More simple and plain assuming compared to the various designs and fabrics you wore way back when you’d spend time on an experiment with Senku. He watched you mature from one phase of your life into the next, and this was no different.

It wasn’t even the new people you surround yourself with, found comfort within. It wasn’t listening to their stories, the things that made these people, so far removed from your time, human. It wasn’t the small, pleasant things that he knew grounded you when you got too caught up in your head, the new habits you made out of retrieving materials, crafting things to keep your hands (and mind) busy, new skills you learned (or were forced to learn) and previous skills you learned to develop.

But for the life of him, Senku cannot figure out what it is that’s different. He drives himself a little further mad each time he looks on at you. There’s something in his mind, almost like an itch, that intrusively takes hold on the rest of his senses when there’s a moment between the two of you, whether it’s a quiet one, whether it’s one of shared excitement or mutual understanding. There’s a warmth and a chill that wash over him at the same time when your gaze settles on him a little too intensely, or when you say something wise and agreeable. There is something he’s missing, and he can’t figure out what. 

Maybe it’s your laugh that’s different, though Senku doesn’t know why that would be a thing of prominent notice, or notice at all. It’s a little rougher, and at times with a little less heart than he’s accustomed to after so many years of hearing it bright and enthusiastic. But it’s still kind, and most of all, genuine. Perhaps something about that makes it distinguishable from another. 

Or perhaps it was your new approach to, your new outlook on, life. No, perhaps it was the way you applied your already existing approaches and outlooks to your new, unique circumstances. To help cope, to help others, to help him. 

It was something different, Senku was sure of it. However, he hasn’t had much time to linger on what could possibly be the source of such…irritation, for very long. 

Perhaps a more irritating point was the fact that Senku could hardly place a time when he first observed this difference. 

At the very least, he could estimate it to be sometime after the both of you emerged from the stone. 

The simplest solution, perhaps, could be for him to just ask you directly. It’s the easiest way to confirm or deny hypotheses’. He would ask if you had gotten haircuts in the past, ask if you had gotten any sleep after noticing prominent circles under your eyes and sluggish movements. This was no different.

But when Senku finds himself hesitating on an evening when the two of you are working in the lab together, Senku thinks that maybe this is the different thing. For some reason, he’s slower to communicating such personal things, despite it being nothing more than simple, casual and menial conversation. 

You’ve had hundreds of conversations about a million different things over the years, from careers you aspire to pursue in earnest to the more daunting topics about love and loss. He’s seen every side of you, good and ugly, he’s heard every side of you. Every insecurity, every point of pride, about every friend who’s come and gone and stayed behind; and in a more Senku like fashion, you’ve heard the same from him, in that straightforward and logical way of communicating that you’ve always been able to see through from the wavers in his voice to the passionate glints in his eyes. 

But something is different. Something has been different. 

Yet the two of you work away in the lab as if it were any other evening, the twinkling stars in the sky he admires so much hidden away by the walls and bamboo roof. It’s what you’ve been doing since you’ve established some sort of lab to work out of ever since the petrification. Senku has felt quite disturbed by this difference of yours, but at the very least, he finds it comforting that it doesn’t affect this routine that the two of you established early on in your relationship. The content, collaborative efforts the two of you put in to create something satisfying, worthwhile; exciting. 

It’s what he’s always felt with you in your relationship. Thrill to indulge in something he’s passionate about together, thrill to create something with you, thrill to be with you--

Senku pauses his work for a moment. He shifts his gaze from the notes in front of him to where you stand just down the opposite end of the table, completely enamored with the tests you were performing. 

Something is different. He thinks, at that moment, that he’s almost figured out what. 

But the realization he was about to reach disappears from him suddenly, and he can’t seem to become conscious of the conclusion when he stares at you. He tries desperately to recall it, reach for it in his mind, through a frantic look at your features. The warm light against your skin, the gentle movement of your hands, the concentrated furrow of your brows. 

His heart feels like it might burst out of frustration the more he looks at you, and he forces himself to turn away. It’s there, it was there!

(And it still was.)

He’ll figure it out eventually.

[multifandomfanficss]

Don’t Be Embarrassed

Sam Riordan x Reader

Prompt: You take care of Sam and he takes care of you.

Warnings: autistic reader having an autistic meltdown, talk of mental hospitals, mentions of sex, walking in on friends having sex, spoilers for episode 4

A/N: Although there is no smut, because we’re only 4 episodes in and Sam doesn’t have a confirmed age I’m writing this under the assumption that he’s college age 18+. This boy is taking up most of my brain space this week. We don’t have a lot of info on the the character, but this is how I see his vibes. I crossposted this on my ao3 adriansglasses. Also this is my first non Adrian fic in quite sometime! Hope ya’ll enjoy!

You were on your way back from class when you heard yelling coming from down the hallway. You had been hanging out with Sam for the day and left him for two hours to go to class. You rushed to your dorm, quickly fishing out your keys.

“Hey hey hey what’s going on?” You asked him, placing your hands out, waiting to see if he’ll let you touch him.

“It was supposed to be a good day! A good day! But apparently I can’t even fucking do that!” He yells. The Woods had done a toll on him and he was still recovering. He had been doing a lot better lately, but everyone knows healing isn’t linear.

“Sam, it’s okay. You’re okay.” You give him a smile. “You had a good day yesterday and the day before that! It’s okay to have a bad day, Sam.”

“But I was doing so good…” He sounds defeated. You slowly grow closer to him. When he doesn’t back away you place a hand on his shoulder.

“I know and I’m so proud of you, but healing isn’t linear. There’s gonna be bad days. Even people who are… for lack of a better word ‘normal’ have bad days.” You roll your eyes and throw air quotes around the word normal. You didn’t always have the best words to describe what you were thinking, but Sam always knew what you meant. Usually college friendships and relationships formed and moved fast, but even with that Sam was different. You felt like you could be yourself around him in ways you couldn’t be around others.

It felt that way since the beginning. Sure the day you met Sam was overstimulating, rushed, and tense, but after you and your friends convinced him not to kill the doctor that completely ruined his life, you got to know him a little more the next day.

“So what’s your power?” He asks.

“What?”

“Your power. You must be a supe if you go to Godolkin.”

“Oh! Yeah uh…right… It’s stupid.” You sigh, avoiding eye contact. The gravel below your feet comes into detail. You pay attention to the sparkles of the rocks being hit by the sun instead of Sam.

“It can’t be that bad. Just tell me.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“I uh… I feel like any way I word it will sound weird, but my bodily fluids are like acid, so uh like my tears and spit and stuff. Told you it was weird.”

“No! That’s cool! I’ve seen way worse. You should have seen some of my roommates at my old place.” He jokes. You laugh quietly with him.

“So all of your stuff is acid?” He asks. You nod.

“How do you pee? Do you just like melt toilets every time you piss?” He asks. You laugh.

“No, I guess my body has some way of controlling it, but I don’t know. I haven’t really figured it out consciously.”

“I was gonna say, that would be really cool if you could piss acid. Just like pee on all your enemies. That would be cool as fuck.” He laughs. You don’t know why at the time, but there’s just something so comforting about him.

“That’s gross. You’re sick.” You laugh.

“Oh trust me I know. You don’t go through multiple mental hospitals just being normal.”

You knew he was joking, but the way he said normal struck a cord in you. You didn’t see him as wrong, but you knew what he meant. You often felt… knew… you weren’t normal either.

You were there for Sam just as much as he was for you. It took you a long time to accept his help. It took a while for him to convince you that you weren’t a burden. The first time you had a meltdown in front of him was a very vulnerable moment for you. You hadn’t been that vulnerable with anyone like that in a long time.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them.” You fumed, pacing the room, so blinded by your anger you had forgotten you were with Sam. You had promised him you could watch Waterworld after class because you’d never seen it before and it was his favorite movie.

“She is such a fucking bitch. Why the fuck didn’t she fucking tell me?! She could have put a fucking sock on the door or sent a text or fucking something Jesus fucking Christ! Like I love her, but fuck!” You were beyond angry. After an already overstimulating day and a failed assignment handed back, you were already on edge before you walked in on Jordan and Marie. Now sexiled to the lounge while your roommate finishes with his girlfriend, not caring about your plans at all.

“I fucking told him too! I told him you were coming over!” You say, upset, and quite honestly still in shock, not expecting to see two of your friends fucking on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Maybe they just forgot.” Sam proposes.

“How could she fucking forget what time I come home every fucking Tuesday?!” You huff, sitting down on the couch. You sit in silence before thinking it over.

“No, you’re right… they probably just forgot…” You feel a pit in your stomach and tears starting to well up in your eyes. You try to keep them at bay. You don’t need an acid leak today. “Yeah Jordan totally forgot. Oh fuck. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad.” You feel your body crumbling in on itself. You hate getting mad. You were so scared of your own anger. You also felt like Jordan didn’t deserve it. Yeah he could be an ass sometimes, but Jordan was your roommate and your friend.

“Hey what’s going on you look upset- well more upset than you were before… okay maybe not more upset, but a different kind of upset…” Sam’s voice trails off. He wasn’t always the best with words either.

“I just feel so bad.” The tears start to slip down your face.

“Why do you feel bad? You just walked in on two of your friends having sex in your own room. It’s never happened to me, but I think it’s normal to be annoyed.” He sits down next to you. When he gets a closer look at your face he sees the red marks on your cheeks. You were used to the burn by now. You hated crying, but sometimes you couldn’t stop yourself. Sam moves to wipe away some of your tears.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” You ask.

“They used to electrocute me daily at the Woods. This is nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” The ache in your stomach grows. You feel like such a burden.

“Why are you sorry?” He asks.

“Because you shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I’m here because I want to be.” He smiles.

“But I’m too much. This is too much. You have your own shit to deal with. I’m so fucking sorry, Sam.” You try to hold back more tears. You feel awful.

“Hey, don’t apologize. You’ve done so much for me. You promised you’d always be there for me. Let me return the favor. You’re so kind to everyone, just let me be kind to you.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper again in a broken voice.

“Why do you keep saying sorry? Are you embarrassed?” He asks. You nod.

“Don’t be embarrassed. Multiple mental hospitals, remember?” He jokes, making a face and pointing to himself. You laugh quietly.

“Just the life of a broken fucking brain.” He laughs, but there’s something sad underneath.

“You know I don’t think you’re a monster right?”

“Why are you bringing that up now?” He asks.

“Well sometimes I think you believe the doctors at the Woods a little too much. I just wanted to make sure you know that I know that you’re trying and you’re a good guy.” You smile.

“For what it’s worth I don’t think you’re a monster either. You think I’m a good guy, but I think you’re the goodest person I know.” He smiles. “Is goodest even a word?” He asks.

“I don’t think so, but I appreciate the compliment.” You smile. You don’t know when it happened, but you start to realize that Sam had successfully distracted you and calmed you from your meltdown. You find his arm around you, as you lean into him on the lounge couch.

“I’m so glad I met you.” He smiles.

“I’m so glad I met you too.”

[bangtangalicious]

Can I request a drabble w Tae where the reader is innocent and she approaches him saying she couldn't sleep or smthing? And tae fingers her shdhfhfiioj . And she has no clue of his intentions?👉👈 I really enjoy your smut fics sm!

pairing: taehyung x reader

tw: 18+ only, smut, fingering, praise, manipulation

His eyes swept over you, trembling in the cold midnight air. Nipples taught against the flimsy oversized t-shirt you had on.

You blinked at him, wide eyes without a taint of judgement. "I can't sleep" The pout on your lips, delectable.

Sighing deeply, Taehyung crawled into your bed. Not minding the heat that seared through his skin as he came into contact with you.

Legs tangling with yours.

Were you not wearing panties?

He cursed.

His fingers caressed the top of your head when really he wanted to dip them into your sweet little cunt. You would like that, wouldn't you? Why else would you invite him into your bed like this, legs spread, so eager?

His teeth dug into his lips, you were too innocent to realize what you did to him. It wasn't his fault! He was a wretched man, he only had so much self-control.

"Can't sleep, huh?" He whispered darkly, pulling you closer. Tracing the tops of your thigh.

You giggled, pressing your face into his chest. "Tae, w-what, that tickles!"

He shushed you. Lips dusting over yours with a stern look in his eyes.

"Close your eyes"

He watched you gulp with unease. "Taehyung--"

"Close them"

You did. He watched your lids flutter shut as his fingers trailed up, brushing against your clit. A shaky breath left your lips, goosebumps all over you as his dark whispers pressed behind your ear.

"Shh, just relax" His voice was incredibly deep. Vibrating straight to your core. He smirked, feeling your wetness against the pads of his finger. Drawing soft, gentle circles into you.

Without warning he slipped one finger inside. Easily, a soft squelch making him shudder with need. He could feel your heat clench. You were so tight, but that didn't stop him from sliding in one more.

Unknowingly, you spread your legs wider. Wanting to feel his fingers even deeper. He drew them out. Slid them back in. A soft rhythm, burning through you.

"Just like that, good girl" His breath was hot against you. Thumb resting on your clit as he continued to fuck you open with his fingers. "So fucking wet for me baby"

You gasped. Letting Taehyung know you were far from asleep. He scoffed, digging his teeth against your ear.

"Still can't sleep?" He teased darkly. Your eyes flew open, shot with lust. No part of your body was in control as you reached for his face, pressing your lips against his, hard. Desperate. Wanting to swallow him whole.

"Tae" You groaned into his mouth, as his fingers began pistoning even faster.

"My baby gonna come?" He cooed, "Gonna come all over my fingers, hm?"

There was no hiding your moans. The sweet part of your lips as you began to tremble, shocked coursing through your body as you leaked into his palm. He flicked his wrist, guiding you through your orgasm.

"There you go baby, so fucking good" He licked your jaw, aftershocks consuming you as his fingers continued to dig deep.

A wave of ease swept over you. Your eyes finally settling shut. Taehyung kissed you one final time, lips lingering over yours.

"Now sleep, my love" He whispered sweetly, a smile pressing against you. "Sweet dreams"

He knew you had no idea what he had just done to you. But the thought of you wandering to him every restless night begging him to make you come again so you could sleep...

Sweet dreams indeed.

[hrrys6]

[say-al0e]

Hope

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18, Minors DNI!

Summary: From the age of ten, your heart has belonged to Aemond Targaryen. As the factions of your family wage war, each fighting for the crown, all you want is to love the man you chose. | Ft. "You think I wanted to fall in love with you, of all people?" Requested by @niamh11 Warnings: Targcest, doubt, war, death (mentioned), dragon fire, inaccurate Targaryen marriage rites, PinV, oral (f!receiving), Harrenhal, light drugging (nothing happens while drugged, just sleep; only briefly mentioned). Aemond and Reader are 20. Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!Targaryen Reader (Daemon's Daughter, Unspecified Mother - not Rhaenyra) Word Count: 11.5k (I don't know, I blacked out) HotD Taglist

For weeks, it felt as if every breath was filled with the scent of damp earth, the smoke of dragon fire, the copper tang of blood, or the char of wood and bone. Each was heavier than the last, harder to draw and less likely to fill your lungs, but you continued to fight to catch your breath with every moment that passed.

The stench of war, now hanging heavily over the entirety of the realm, made itself at home in the fabric of your clothes, the strands of your hair, the very pores of your skin. It haunted you in your sleep, lingered just around every corner and refused to allow you a moment of peace. Despite your reluctance to fight, to watch the realm tear itself apart, it slowly consumed every piece of your life. But the stench, while maddening, meant that you were still alive.

For now, anyway.

Once, only a few short moons ago, towns and villages near the Kingsroad found themselves on the verge of prosperity. Their proximity afforded them the coin of travelers, of weary men wandering through the realm for one reason or another and sellswords looking for work - or, more often, debauchery. None were as large as Oldtown or King’s Landing, none quite as prosperous, but it was more than could be said for other villages. There was food to eat, coin to be earned, and fun to be had; just enough for the inhabitants to consider themselves lucky.

Unfortunately, their luck only extended so far.

The all-consuming threat of dragon fire often loomed over the realm. There were many who were raised to fear the ancient beasts - and rightfully so, for their not so distant ancestors perished in flames - but, for many, the threat seemed far off.

Until smoke filled the skies and the threat that once seemed so distant now swallowed them whole.

Blackened land surrounded you at every turn. Fields, once filled with crops, reduced to nothing more than a pile of ash; pastures, once teeming with livestock, a final resting place for cleaned bones; ponds, once a source of water for the bustling village, still bubbling as it boiled. Once great buildings were nothing more than rubble, mere pieces of stone marking where they once stood, and the streets were littered with bodies still smoking.

Though the sight was growing familiar, you could still feel the bile raise in the back of your throat as you stepped across cobblestone paths in search of any survivors. The beat of your heart echoed in your ears, hammering so hard inside your chest you worried it might crack a rib, and you struggled to even your breathing as you gripped your sword.

There was no need to guess who had lain waste to the lands, no need to question those who managed to flee, those who would spend the rest of their lives searching the skies in fear. It was obvious whose work this was and your father had little problem reminding you.

“I suppose your beloved did not deem this attack worth discussion upon your last meeting,” he sneered, toeing at a large piece of melted metal. “Tell me, what is it you see in him; his devotion to senseless violence or his shameless predilection for leaving nothing but death and destruction in his wake? Your devotion to him is… baffling."

For a moment, it felt as if your heart stopped. While he had not spoken of him as anything other than a nuisance, a proverbial thorn in his side, since his refusal to allow you to marry, it was of little surprise to you that your father knew your heart still belonged to him. Most turned blind eyes - some willingly, with no desire to speak aloud your transgression; others simply allowed you to go unnoticed, expecting this behavior from the eldest child of the Rogue Prince - but you should have known there was nothing you could hide from him.

“I have loved him since we were children,” you reminded him, needlessly. “I cannot simply stop. As for what I see in him, I would say that I saw you, father,” you began, voice thick with emotion, “but something like this would require you to sully your own hands.” Despite the knot in your throat and the tears stinging the backs of your eyes, you carried on, hoping he couldn’t hear the shake of your voice. “Aemond’s crimes are his own. Yours are carried out by men who have the misfortune of trusting you.”

Daemon Targaryen had always been noted for his prowess in battle, his cunning, his silver tongue, his enjoyment of Flea Bottom. Rarely was he noted for his even temper or his devotion as a father. He loved you, and your siblings - of this you were almost certain - but you considered it evident when he chose to reach for you, hand clasped in a viselike grip on your throat, rather than his sword the moment the words left your lips.

“Mind your tongue,” he ordered, voice a low rasp as his violet eyes narrowed. “This,” he hissed, gesturing to the carnage you stood amidst, “is the work of a weak, pathetic little boy throwing a fucking tantrum. He wants war, he wants blood, he wants the crown; he knows nothing of the reality. He has chosen to burn his own kingdom for a chance to play king now that his drunken, usurper cunt of a brother has disappeared and were it not for Rhaenyra, for you, I would let him.” Daemon paused, his grip tightening on your throat - earning a sharp gasp, a desperate scrabble of your fingers, nails digging into his forearm - as his gaze burned into yours. “I once saw myself in Aemond,” he confessed, voice softening, “though there is one grand distinction. I would sacrifice the world for Rhaenyra, for our children, for you. Aemond will sacrifice you the moment you no longer serve his purpose."

A single glance around the village, around the dozen other villages you’d flown through on your patrols - on your search for Aemond, for Vhagar, for any sign of an impending Green attack - confirmed that your father spoke the truth. The Aemond you loved was long gone, replaced by a man desperately clawing for the power that now seemed well within his grasp, but you were your father’s daughter.

Dragon rider since ten, skilled with a sword, intelligent, comely gifted with a mind for strategy - it was oft whispered that you were a mirror of Daemon Targaryen. The best, and some of the worst, parts of your father were passed directly to you. And, unfortunately, that included his predilection to stubbornly listen to the thrum of your heart rather than reason.

“You act as if you have the right to shame anyone, as if you have not sacrificed many and more in the name of getting what you want,” you reminded him, nails sinking into his skin and drawing blood. The rasp of your voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but it carried through the hauntingly empty ruins as you searched his face for any hint of understanding. When you found none, you pleaded, “What would you have me do, father? Tell me, please.”

“Return to Harrenhal,” he commanded, releasing his grip on your throat, gaze never once leaving yours. “I will join you on the morrow.” For a moment, you stood toe to toe - jaw working as you contemplated speaking, wondering if you could push words past the sudden dryness of your mouth - before Daemon turned. “That is a command. Go.”

Without sparing you a second glance, Daemon stalked across the field to mount Caraxes before beginning his ascent.

Rather than immediately following the harsh command, one he would almost certainly apologize for in his own way - with an embrace, most likely, or a tale of his youth - you allowed yourself a moment. With little regard for your armor, for your sword, you sank to your knees and pressed your palms into the scorched earth and reflected on how exactly you found yourself with an aching heart.

For much of your life, your heart beat for Aemond Targaryen.

As the eldest daughter of the Rogue Prince, Lords and knights from all parts of the realm - princes from Dorne and the Free Cities - all vied for your hand, once upon a time. With every tourney or feast you attended, you were inundated with glances and introductions. Each conversation included boasts of riches and land, of family titles and pedigrees. Daemon found it intoxicating, waiting for the perfect proposal to be made, while it all mattered none to you.

The idea of marriage was one you disliked, but one you knew would become reality sooner rather than later. As a Targaryen, there were but two possibilities: your marriage would serve as a political alliance, your husband chosen for the connections he could bring the crown, the resources his house could provide; or you would marry another Targaryen, a member of your own house who could ensure your name and bloodline carried on.

Neither was appealing but a political marriage always seemed the most likely option as you viewed it as the only way your father could win favor with his brother. It was an eventuality you were prepared for as your brothers were young, and betrothed, while you knew little and less of your cousins.

Visits to the Red Keep were few and far between, only possible when your father and uncle found themselves in good spirits - or at such odds that a conversation was necessary - and even less frequent upon your father’s marriage to Rhaenyra. Alicent Hightower’s children mattered little to you at first, their existence often forgotten as you followed your father from this exile to that, but everything changed the moment Aemond claimed Vhagar.

Funerals - too many of which you’d witnessed in such a short existence - never sat well with you. They served as a reminder that while House Targaryen sat high atop the Iron Throne and soared through the skies on the backs of ancient beasts, none could escape the Stranger’s eventual embrace.

Mortality felt too heavy a thought for one so young but it was the ever present reality.

On a day that felt so heavy, so sobering, you were surprised to find any joy at all. There was so much anger, so much tension, so much sadness, that you wondered how anyone would carry on at all. But somewhere, amidst the depths of despair, you stood in awe of the timid boy who once had trouble looking you in the eye as he mounted the oldest and fiercest dragon you knew.

Aemond’s joy was almost palpable that night. His relief at having claimed a dragon - the dragon - set you at ease, thrilled you almost more than claiming your own dragon, and you watched happily as he circled Driftmark. Vhagar carried him around the island and their cries, his of triumph, carried on the wind. It filled your chest with a warmth you’d never known, a joy that felt almost suffocating. The sight of him, fearless and finally free of the cruel teasing of his brother and yours, endeared him to you in a way you never bothered to examine.

Upon his return, a split second after his feet hit the sand and your eyes met, you pulled him into your arms. With one embrace, you saw a future, a life of love - of joy, of dragon rides and quiet evenings - and you hoped he might feel the same.

It was fitting, you supposed, for the love story you always wished for to be marked by fire and blood.

The first and only time you hoped that you might marry for love while fulfilling your duty to your house ended in bloodshed. Though you were both but ten years old, you learned an important lesson; hope is not meant for a Targaryen.

Driftmark, in hindsight, began it all - the start of your love story, the seeds of ruin that would someday fell it - but you were nothing, if not stubborn. 

Despite the events of that night, despite your father marrying Rhaenyra and the boys becoming your brothers, Aemond knew you shouldered no blame. Though he wanted an apology, an acknowledgement of wrongdoing, he was satisfied; an eye for Vhagar, of all dragons, was a worthwhile price to pay, that much he confided in the first of many letters you shared.

The letters were flowed easily and, though most contained trivial thoughts that mattered little to anyone but the pair of you, they meant the world to you. For the first time in a long time, you felt content - happy, even. 

As you grew older, you understood little and less of the rift between your family. Your relationship with Aemond was easy, almost effortless, but everything else seemed so needlessly complicated. There were apologies owed and egos too fragile to repent for past sins; a simple problem with an even simpler solution. However, it seemed as if all were too self-involved to see the simplicity.

Viserys, with his ailing health and reputation as peacetime king, wanted nothing more than for peace amongst his own family.

For all the harsh words and bitter distance, for all the sleepless nights and long fights, for all the accusations and moments of mistrust, Viserys and Daemon truly loved one another. There was nothing, in the end, that could destroy their relationship.

That was why, you supposed, when Viserys suggested it and you insisted, Daemon agreed to send you to ward in King’s Landing.

The gesture was one, both you and Viserys insisted, meant to unite your families. Your willingness to step into a proverbial viper’s den, however, did little to ease the tension that grew so thick you feared it may someday choke you.

In hindsight, you knew the damage was already done. The groundwork for the coming war, the brewing discontent and deep mistrust, was laid long before you entered the picture. Perhaps it was naivety, or a brotherly desire to make up for past mistakes, that lead Viserys to believe the decision would invoke fondness between the halves of your families - or perhaps less bloodshed when the reckoning finally arrived - but a Dreamer he was not.

Most believed disaster loomed over the Red Keep but none could have predicted just how horrifying it would be.

Upon your arrival to the Red Keep, you were reminded of how long it had been since you wandered its halls. Little of your childhood was spent there, visits grew fewer and farther between, but very little remained of image your mind conjured. There was no warmth, no cheer, no comfort. Though autumn had scarcely begun, the bitter cold of winter already enveloped the Keep and its inhabitants.

Viserys himself hailed your arrival as a cause for celebration. Helaena, too, found joy in your presence as you served as her closest friend and confidante. Aegon, now eight-and-ten, all but ignored your presence, as did his mother. And the one you missed the most seemed most outwardly indifferent to your presence.

Aemond spoke less than he did as a child, his words carefully measured, though his confidence had grown with him. He carried himself in a manner befitting a prince, with set shoulders and a keen violet eye scanning his surroundings at every turn. And while his brother spent his days deep in his cups or between the thighs of paid women, Aemond’s days were spent honing his abilities. He trained with Cole in the yard, studied with the maesters in the library, and listened intently to every conversation he could catch regarding matters of the realm.

Though you spoke often through raven, the comfort did not quickly or easily extend to face-to-face interactions.

Despite the initial tension that arrived with you from Dragonstone, Aemond graced you with his presence more often than not. He sat with you in the library, body occupying the seat beside yours despite a handful of empty chairs scattered about the room, and went flying with you as often as you wished. At mealtimes, he sat at your side - his violet eye trained on you, observing but rarely speaking more than a handful of words - and walked the gardens with you after breaking your fast.

There were moments of bitterness, bouts of anger where your tempers flared - particularly in the beginning, and often because of one sibling or another - and more moments spent hurling cruel words at one another.

But with every moon that passed, you settled into a life far different than any you could’ve imagined. And with every moment spent by Aemond’s side, you knew it was love - real and true - you’d found all those years ago. Love lightened your spirit, brought you a warmth and a comfort you never knew existed, and joy found you despite the chill of the Red Keep. Aemond was the one you wanted and, delighted, you learned he felt the same.

Yet, neither of you forgot that hope was more dangerous a beast than any dragon.

Hope abandoned you both as you sought permission to marry. Though Viserys was overjoyed, thrilled by the prospect of uniting the family through the joining of your hands, there were few others who shared his enthusiasm. The factions of your family agreed on little as of late but Alicent and Daemon found themselves in agreement at long last; both would sooner see their children miserable, alone or trapped in loveless marriages, than allow them to marry.

It seemed as if everyone, save Viserys, shared the sentiment. And, as you gathered for what would - unbeknownst to you all - become the last supper, none were shy about sharing it.

Piece by piece, the future you foolishly allowed yourself to imagine shattered into shards that pierced your heart deeper and deeper. With every argument against your betrothal, with every sharp word uttered and eventual punch thrown, you felt the fate you desperately hoped to avoid closing in on you. And as your family disappeared from the Red Keep, eager to return to Dragonstone - with a parting command that you begin preparing to join them - you took to the skies to ruminate.

Naively, perhaps, you imagined you could have won them over.

There were a thousand arguments to be made in support of your marriage to Aemond, the least of which was the love you shared. Though Daemon mistrusted his nephew, he would’ve seen reason - someday, perhaps - that Aemond loved you, that he would never cause you harm. Though your brothers disliked Aemond, the result of childhood animosity fed to you all by adults, you could have shown them how happy Aemond made you. And though Rhaenyra found herself wary, she knew your marriage would provide stability and comfort to Alicent upon her ascension.

If only Viserys had lived just a while longer.

Viserys’ death had long been a matter of when. In the immediate aftermath, you found yourself wondering how things might have changed had Rhaenyra remained at the Keep - if he’d died sooner rather than later, if she’d been the one to share his final moments. But there was little time to dwell when you suddenly found yourself considered an enemy to the crown.

One moment, you were lingering in the Dragonpit - Aemond’s hand on your cheek, his forehead pressed to yours as he assured you there was nothing that could keep you apart - and the next, members of the Kingsguard were dragging you through the Keep to lock you in your room.

For several long hours, there was no explanation. Aemond was kept from you, sent from the Keep in search of his brother, and you were kept under strict guard. Despite the silence, you knew with great certainty that Viserys was dead and your stomach churned with fear of what was to come. And despite yourself, you held desperately to the hope that the great houses would remember their oaths to uphold Rhaenyra as the rightful heir.

Abandon all hope, should you wish to survive.

None knew what Otto Hightower intended to do with you - for it was, most certainly, he who masterminded Aegon’s ascension and he who planted the seeds of mistrust in you as a suitable match for his grandson - but you considered yourself blessed to escape that fate, nonetheless.

A knight of the Kingsguard facilitated your escape, granted you and Rhaenys the freedom necessary to flee King’s Landing. Rhaenys herself facilitated the liberation of your dragons, neither of whom you intended to leave without. And in the blink of an eye, every aspect of your life changed. War was nigh, closer than ever before, and though you escaped the Red Keep, hope held you prisoner.

For a blissful moment, little of your relationship with Aemond changed.

There were ravens - messages written in High Valyrian, now of greater significance than ever before - and meetings arranged in secluded woods. There were longing glances exchanged, fleeting touches and soft kisses, embraces you once refused out of some sense of propriety. Words of love were whispered and promises, bound to be broken, were made. There was even a dream, only spoken under cover of darkness, of finding a septon to marry you in a desperate bid to end the war before it began in earnest. But the storm itself had only just begun.

The question was never when, nor if, blood would be drawn; it was always who would draw it. Most feared it would be Daemon, or perhaps Aegon - both quick to anger, to act, desperate to prove themselves. But it was of little surprise to anyone, save you, that it was Aemond who began the Dance.

Whispers filled the land and the halls of Dragonstone echoed with the title that chipped at the already shattered pieces of your heart; Aemond One-Eye became Aemond the Kinslayer. 

Most believed it was a deliberate act, retribution for the eye Lucerys stole as a boy. Others, an act of provocation to draw Rhaenyra out of hiding. Regardless of motive, nearly all found themselves in agreement that Aemond committed the most grievous sin. Though it was a compelling argument, one you found yourself struggling to deny when Jacaerys confronted you, you hoped it was not true.

Aemond longed for an apology, an acknowledgement that he was wronged. That much you knew to be true. But he was not a murderer, not one to cut down a child in cold blood.

Three long months of piecemeal battles followed Lucerys death - Visenya’s death - and, despite the damage done and the fear beginning to grip the realm, there was little to be done to keep you away from Aemond. You continuously found one another, seeking solace where you knew it was guaranteed, and he swore Lucerys’ death was a tragic mistake. He apologized, sincerely, and you believed him.

Love, perhaps, was more dangerous than hope for it could make even the sharpest eye blind.

As you glanced around the village, reduced to nothing - to ash, to rubble, to ruin - you wondered if it was love that blinded you involuntarily or a choice made to protect what remained of your fragile heart.

Every sign that Aemond had changed, that he was no longer the boy you fell in love with but a man grown into a stranger, was there. And as you stood, limbs trembling as you realized an inn had become a graveyard, you wondered if he’d ever been the man you believed him to be.

Perhaps it was hope, a desperate desire for a fairytale you long ago accepted you would never have, or perhaps it was naivety that blinded you. While others saw a waking nightmare, a terror to behold, you saw a man in desperate need of comfort. While others saw a threat, you saw a man who needed a gentle hand to guide him to the light. While others saw a raging storm, threatening to spring forth and destroy everything in its path, you found yourself trapped directly in the ruinous calm of the eye.

Aemond was, you truly believed, good. Somewhere beneath the facade he wore, the bravado that kept his shoulders straight and his lips narrowed into a thin line, was a delicate countenance you’d witnessed. But as you gathered yourself, scrubbed at your cheeks with the hem of your sleeve and swiped ash from your gloved hands on the fabric of your coat, you wondered just how deeply it was buried.

Village after village had been burned, thousands of innocents killed in cold blood, and to what end? There was no question who torched the villages, not pretending the offense was committed at Rhaenyra’s command.

All knew it was Aemond Targaryen, the One-Eyed Prince - Kinslayer, attempted Kingslayer - who singlehandedly destroyed them all.

Death and destruction marked his path, nothing left for you to find other than rubble and ash. It made you sick, turned your stomach and left an acidic burn in the back of your throat, but you couldn’t help wondering why.

As you mounted your dragon to return to Harrenhal, body present but mind far away, little made sense to you. Aegon was gone, still missing after weeks of searching; Alicent and Otto, for all their determination, would never see the realm reduced to ash; and Criston Cole would rather fight, march on with a host of men and a strategy rather than torch villages with little rhyme or reason. There was no plausible explanation for the campaign, no reasonable excuse for the destruction you found awaiting you at every turn.

All that remained was the truth; each and every village burned was a choice Aemond made.

The realization that every heinous act you’d stumbled across in your search for Aemond and Vhagar - for Aegon, for Criston Cole, for a Green army you began to imagine would never materialize - was his froze the very blood in your veins. It made each beat of your heart more painful than the last, each a little too fast and hard enough you feared your ribs might crack, and you fought bitter tears as you flew toward Harrenhal.

Only weeks ago, Aemond pleaded with you. He urged you to abandon your family and give yourself to him - your hand, your body, your dragon - and join his cause, not his brother’s. It was heartfelt, soft, emotional, convincing. He promised that you would rule as his queen, that your family would be forgiven and peace would return to the realm, if you would simply give in to him. And for a long moment, you considered his plea. So strongly did you consider accepting, you gathered your things and crossed through the dilapidated corridors of Harrenhal with every intention of taking flight and joining him.

In fact, you made it to the gate before the little voice in your head gave you pause.

Alys found you in the courtyard, bag tossed to the ground and shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, sat before the Weirwood tree. With a few soft words, she reminded you of your place - of your family, of your fight - and lead you to bed before Daemon could find you.

Briefly, as you soared through the cool, late afternoon air, you wondered if the destruction was your fault. Perhaps your rejection ignited the flame of his temper and sent him on a rampage. But you believed you knew him too well to entertain that train of thought for longer than a moment. Aemond had proven himself to be volatile, dangerous, but there had to be a reason for the destruction he rained.

Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with you and much and more to do with his own campaign for the crown - a campaign none knew existed until the power he so desired fell straight into his hands.

There was little time to dwell on Aemond’s aspirations, however, as the great ruins of Harrenhal entered your sight.

Resting in a field, not far from the charred remnants of the castle, was Vhagar. She slept, unbothered, by the beating wings of your own dragon - a scent she recognized, a scent she knew offered no threat - and you felt your pulse jump as you grounded your own dragon just outside the walls of the once great castle.

Where Vhagar went, Aemond went - a fact all knew. And what Aemond wanted, he got. It was only a matter of time before he came for you, you realized, just as you realized the choice to join him was little more than an illusion. The decision to be his was made long ago, by a lovestruck fool who believed in hope and happy endings. The consequences would be felt by a woman whose sight had been restored.

There was no use in attempting to flee. He’d seen you arrive and would doubtlessly follow, so you steeled yourself and made the short trek to the ruins of the castle courtyard.

With your blade drawn and your ears ringing, heart hammering so loud you feared he might hear over the wind howling around you, you stepped through the gate. Despite the persistent chill in the air, the bile rising in the back of your throat, you felt impossibly warm - burning from within, fear lapping at your skin like the hottest flames of dragon fire.

Aemond didn’t bother turning from the Weirwood, hands remaining folded behind his back as dead earth crunched beneath your boots. “I wondered if Daemon would dare face me himself,” he began, voice soft and carrying on the cold wind, “of if he would be craven and allow his beloved daughter to return to me.”

It was apparent he thought you knew - that Daemon knew - he’d arrived at Harrenhal. And you had no intention of correcting him as you tightened your grip on your sword. Instead, you laughed;  a brittle, hollow sound you knew he would see through.

“My father is not afraid of you.” Every step you took, sword clasped in your hands - clutched like a lifeline, as if you had any chance against him in battle - the harder it became to catch your breath. “He does not consider you at all. You are nothing more than a pest to be swatted in his eyes; that is why I am here.” A lie, something you both knew, as Daemon understood exactly who his nephew had become, what kind of man he’d grown to be.

The understanding was one he attempted to share with you, one he begged you to see, but the three of you shared a common weakness; love.

Daemon, for all his gestures and his promises, would never love anyone more than himself as only he could protect his own heart. You would never love anyone more than Aemond, despite his flaws and his mistakes, as he’d captured your heart and refused to set it free. And Aemond? He would never love anyone more than he loved the image of himself wearing a crown.

Seated amidst the ruins of a small village, lingering with the ghosts of lives lost in an awful game, you found that understanding for yourself. Though Aemond professed his love for you - and felt it, of that you were certain, even if it was not the love you dreamt of, not the love you wanted - you knew that a piece of him saw you as a little more than a pawn. The war that raged around you was bigger than you, both pawns to be knocked around a board at the mercy of the gods, but he still fancied himself a player rather than a piece.

Love clouded your judgement, cast a rosy hue over the deep gray of your world, and you almost hated to see it go.

Without it, you saw the blackened hull of Harrenhal and the jaded, empty husk of a man Aemond had become.  The man you loved was gone, the heart that beat in time with yours was no more. Instead, stood before you was a man who sent a thrill of fear shooting down the base of your spine.

If Daemon had known the fate that awaited you at Harrenhal, he would’ve sent you to Dragonstone, to the Keep, to the Reach, the Vale, the North - somewhere, anywhere other than into the hands of the man who would destroy you.

Daemon hadn’t known and neither had you. But if you had, you knew you still would’ve flown straight into his trap.

Silence, thick and tense with an energy you’d never before felt, enveloped you both, broken only by the call of your dragon - cries that sank into your heart like knives, plunging deeper and deeper with every beat - before, at long last, Aemond turned to face you.

That searching violet eye fell to your sword, amusement clear in the raise of his brow and the way his mouth twisted into something resembling a smirk. “Look at you,” he declared, gaze sweeping across your armor of red and black. “My beautiful Fierce Princess.” He took a single step forward, huffing a breath that could pass for laughter when you rocked back onto your heel, and hummed. “I always knew that you would be mine."

“I belong to no man.” The declaration escaped as little more than a whisper, leagues away from the confidence you hoped to project, but there was little use in denying him.

Aemond was the one person who knew each and every inch of you. Every detail - no matter how small - had been committed to memory somewhere in the years you’d loved one another. Though you had not yet given yourself to him, he was more familiar with your skin, your mind, your heart than any other could ever hope to be. If anyone were to see through a false act of bravado, it would be him.

“Mm.” He held his laughter, an act to spare your feelings, though his violet eye shimmered with a mirth that seemed rare these days - a mirth you once considered yourself lucky to witness - as he stepped closer.  “Sheath your blade,” he commanded, voice soft but firm as he easily brushed past you. “I would not harm you, my love.”

Disregarding the command, you kept your sword in hand as you followed him through the dark, damp corridors. There was little light and less company, something you had yet to grow used to.

Though you knew you would find nothing before you began to search, you could not stop yourself from glancing around. Desperately, you hoped for a glimpse of a familiar face - Simon, his men, Alys - but the pit in your stomach only sank deeper as you entered the empty shell of the dining room.

“If you are searching for the witch, she’s gone. Ser Strong, as well. They all seemed… content to die,” he reveled, tone almost pitying as he reached for the carafe on the table. “Has my uncle treated them so poorly?”

“They’re dead,” you repeated, whisper echoing through the empty halls as he began to fill two glasses.

“Mm. Regretful business,” he sighed, turning to offer you a glass - one you took without thought, the action so natural you might’ve forgotten the setting had it not felt so stifling even amidst the cool breeze floating through the halls. “It is a shame they had to die,” he lamented, lips twisting into a rueful pout, “but between this… dwelling and what is to come, I consider it a merciful alternative.”

“What’s to come?” The question escaped before you could stop it, before you could convince yourself to swing - to end the battle before it began - but Aemond was unsurprised.

“Harrenhal can hold a great host. Whoever controls that host, controls the realm,” he reminded you, pausing only to sip his wine. “My brother was weak,” he continued, a soft hum of disappointment punctuating his words. “He was impulsive and undisciplined, unsuited for the crown. He would not have lasted as king. Perhaps dragon fire was a blessing, a suitable end to his reign.”

“Aemond…” For just a moment, you caught a glimpse of the man you loved as you faltered - as your feet carried you closer, as you sheathed your sword and reached for his cheek. “The villages,” you whispered, “the small folk, Simon, Alys; why?”

Aemond leaned into your touch, warmth of his cheek bleeding into your palm as your thumb brushed the ride of his scar. His violet eye fluttered shut, just for a moment, before he sighed. “I intended only to occupy Daemon, to keep him far from Rhaenyra as she attempted to take the Keep. He has long wanted battle; I chose to give it to him. He now has a cause worth fighting for.”

With a hand on your waist, fingers pressing into the heavy material of your coat, Aemond drew to his full height. “Why go to these lengths for the crown?” A large hand lifted to your cup, nudged it to your mouth, and you took a sip without thought before lamenting, “You could have done much and more without it.”

“You know nothing of being denied,” he whispered, voice as soft as it was cutting. “You have been given everything you could have ever wanted. Princes fought for your hand, lords tripped over themselves to wed you; the word ‘no’ means little and less to you.” He urged you to take another sip of your wine, the bitter taste lingering on your tongue as he tipped his head to meet your eyes. “I suppose I am also to blame as I have never refused you anything, nor will I ever. But the crown has always been meant for me, just as you have."

Another insistent press of his fingers saw you drain your cup, casting it aside the moment the liquid disappeared, and you flinched as it clattered to the ground. “You’re wrong,” you whispered, swallowing a gasp as his thumb brushed a drop of wine from your bottom lip. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted, really and truly, I was denied. I’ve only ever asked for your hand, for your love, for you. But I did not set fire to the realm, to the innocents whose paths the gods deemed unfortunate enough to set in my way. I did not betray my brother, my father, my queen. I tried reason, again and again, and held steadfast to hope that our families might see what we have always known.”

“And what did hope earn you, my love? Your father’s ire, your siblings disappointment, your realm’s division. Hope is for the foolish. You must take what you want and offer no apology,” he insisted, forehead dipping to press to yours. His hair, a cascade of white, curtained you - hid the blurring reality that surrounded you from view - as his nose brushed yours. “Everything I have done, it has been for us.”

The words, a soft declaration that should have filled your frozen limbs with an overwhelming warmth, made little sense as your thoughts began to muddle together. The ground beneath your feet trembled, your limbs suddenly felt boneless, and your tongue began to feel too large for your mouth.

Focus grew more and more difficult, a monumental feat with every breath you inhaled through wind-chapped lips, as you attempted to blink away the haze beginning to cloud your vision.

“I wanted love,” you whispered, voice distorted in your own ears. “But do you think I wanted to fall in love with you, of all people? Hope has earned me nothing, yet I continue to cling to it and hope that the boy I fell in love with will someday return to me.”

“I have never left,” Aemond assured you, though his voice sounded far away. “And I never will. We shall spend the rest of our lives together.”

As the world began to crumble around you, as your vision blurred and your ears rang, as your heart slowed and your breathing grew labored, your legs gave out. Despite Aemond’s grip, your body connected with the floor - your knees pressed hard against the broken concrete, your cheek caught the blunt edge of the table - and in an instant, everything ceased to exist.

For a blissful few moments, there was nothing.

There was no war, no death, no fire or blood or ash. There was no king, no crown, no throne. In the softness of your dreams, in the depths of your mind, there was little more than love. Aemond’s touch against your skin was soft, eager, as he committed your body to memory. His gaze was loving, reverent. The vision was dark but you felt it all so immensely.

When you awoke, you realized that it was no dream at all. Aemond sat at the side of your bed, one calloused hand stroking your skin - fingers careful as they avoided the tender skin of your cheek, the dried blood at your temple, the bruise you knew was beginning to form. “Rest well, my love?”

The dark of the room made it difficult to see and the fog still clouding your mind held tight. Your tongue still felt too large for your mouth, too dry, but you persisted. Hoarsely, you whispered, “This was a trap.”

Aemond shifted, his weight dipping the bed but leaving you undisturbed as he brushed hair from your forehead. He was clad in a shirt and pants - missing his sword, his coat, his eyepatch - and his hair fell across his shoulders. He was beautiful, as ethereal as you’d ever seen him, but the warmth you once felt was now replaced with a feeling of dread as he hummed. “It was,” he admitted, no longer bothering to pretend as his thumb swiped at your bottom lip.

“You… you poisoned me.” There was no venom in your accusation, only confusion as your mind struggled to catch up to the moment at hand. “The wine…”

“I did.” Another easy admission of guilt, this one accompanied by a flicker of his eye to meet yours. “I needed to make arrangements,” he reasoned. “I thought it kinder than locking you in a cell.”

There was no emotion in his eye, no inflection in his tone. He simply stated a fact, but you felt your heart begin to race once more as you struggled to sit upright. “I thought you loved me,” you continued, body aching as you moved.

“I do, more than you shall ever know.” Despite everything, despite yourself, you truly believed him. Of every answer he could have given you, of every explanation - every sharp glance or sharper word - you felt inclined to believe that whatever he’d done could be traced to his love for you. It was untraditional, but as someone who had never felt love, perhaps he did not know better.

Still, you asked, “Then why?”

“Because you are mine.” The answer was simple, easy. It was the same answer he had repeated a dozen times over. 

When asked why he agreed to duel a Dornish prince who wanted your hand? You were his, not a prize to be won. When asked why he apologized to his cousins for his ‘Strong’ remarks? You were his; your family was important to you, therefore, they were important to him. When asked why he refused to offer his hand to a Baratheon, despite the crown’s need for their alliance? You were his and he was yours; his hand was already bound.

“Come,” he urged, standing from your bed and offering you a hand.

Slowly, you stood - your limbs weak and your head throbbing, mouth dry and stomach churning - as he reached to steady you. “Where are we going?”

“It is past time we were wed,” he declared, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you upright.

With muddled thoughts and an overwhelming bout of nausea, you inhaled sharply. “There is no septon,” you reminded him, blinking hard against the sudden warm glow of a torch as you stepped into the hallway. “No one to perform a ceremony.”

“We shall marry as our ancestors did,” he reasoned, waving away the notion as he guided you with ease. “They had no need of a septon; the Old Gods witnessed their union as they shall ours.”

“My father,” you began, blinking desperately to clear the haze from your eyes, “my family.”

“In a period of war, tradition means little,” he reasoned, voice low in the silence of the ruins. “There will be another ceremony later, in view of the entire realm, if you wish. For now, we will join hands and take our place as the rightful king and queen.”

“Aemond…”

The pleading edge to your tone, the shake of your voice, was enough to finally give Aemond pause.

A large hand lifted, cradled your jaw and tipped your head. You met his violet eye with your own and searched for answers to the thousands of questions that rushed at you from every angle. Though you’d longed for nothing more than to marry him, to become one, you now wondered if you had any choice at all. Would he allow you to refuse, to escape Harrenhal and return to your family? If you gave him your hand, would he truly spare your father, your siblings, Rhaenyra? If you ran, would he allow you to survive?

Aemond posed a question before you could. “Have you changed your mind, my love? Do you no longer wish to be my wife?” There was little indication how he meant the question - little indication of his true feelings; whether he was angry or heartbroken at the thought - and you found yourself uncertain which would be worse.

But for a long moment, you considered his question. 

The man stood before you was no longer one you recognized, not fully. There was a darkness now ever present, clinging to him in a way it never had before. There was no longer a levity to him, no longer a spark of joy. But for as long as you could remember, Aemond was all you’d ever wanted. And, when you truly stopped to consider, the pieces you missed the most were pieces only you had ever seen.

Vulnerability was given only under cover of darkness, whispered in the depths of the Dragonpit or hidden deep in the godswood. Joy was only shown in fleeting flashes, with red cheeks and swollen lips in stolen moments you dared spend wrapped together. Love was shown in flashes of protection, in moments of compassion. Honesty was only ever granted to you, answers given freely to all questions asked where others received scathing looks and half-truths. 

Perhaps your Aemond was just that; yours and yours alone, unsuited for the eyes of outsiders.

Thoughts rushed at you, moving simultaneously too quickly and syrup slow. Everything muddled in the depths of your mind, a confusing mass of emotion and rationality - heart versus head. For the first time, Aemond truly terrified you, though there was a certainty in the back of your mind that there was no safer place for you in the realm than by his side.

Despite the fear that left your hands trembling, you swallowed your doubt. “I have only ever wanted you,” you whispered, not bothering to hide your tears. “I am yours.”

“As I am yours,” he reiterated, dipping his head to press his forehead to yours.

As water dripped around you, as rain fell over the ruins of Harrenhal, you stood in the corridor together. Uncertainty lingered in the pit of your stomach, the question of how you found yourself here plagued you, but the warmth of Aemond’s body pressed to yours did much and more to settle the wild beat of your heart.

Hope, as dangerous as it was, again found you in the ruins as you resumed your journey to the Weirwood tree.

In the courtyard, beneath the bright, full moon and freezing rain, Aemond slipped the Conqueror’s dagger from its sheath. With a steady hand, he nicked your bottom lip and your palm before carefully gathering a bead of blood on his thumb. He then offered the blade to you and though your own hand shook, you reciprocated without sparing it a second thought.

Aemond clasped your hand in his own, your palm stinging, before he leaned in to press his lips to yours. The dagger, forgotten, clattered to the ground as you pressed impossibly closer.

Weeks apart, separated by death and destruction; confusion, desperation, desire, all clouding your ability to think rationally; overwhelming, all-consuming love - the perfect storm of circumstances saw you desperate to give yourself over the flames that certainly awaited you.

There was no longer any way out, no longer any escape. Aemond was your destiny, your lives bound together years ago. The tinge of fear that pricked at your skin each time you imagined the future - each time you questioned whether you had one, whether anyone would - remained, but your fate was sealed. Rather than fight it, rather than run, you gave in.

The moment you parted, crimson staining your lips and chin, Aemond sighed. “Ābrazyrys,” he whispered, violet eye blinking against the harsh rain.

“Valzȳrys,” you replied, grateful the rain masked your tears as Aemond smiled.

“We are one,” he declared, “united as we’ve always wished.” Your hand remained clasped in his, combined blood dripping into the scorched earth as he squeezed gently. “Nothing can part us.”

“Only the gods,” you whispered, though you remained fearful that speaking it aloud might make it so.

As he always had, Aemond dared scoff at the idea. “Even the gods could not part us,” he promised, silver hair clinging to his skin as he leaned closer.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the courtyard - the ghostly ruins of the castle torched by your ancestors, the halls Daemon had begun rebuilding - but your gaze remained fixed on Aemond. Rain drenched you both, chilled you to the bone, but neither of your cared as he began to guide you back to the castle.

There was little inside that remained dry, even less that offered some semblance of comfort, but that was of little consequence to either of you as Aemond closed the door to your room. Every emotion you felt, every ounce of fear and shame and desire and desperation, gnawed at the fraying edges of your nerves and there was nothing that could be done to alleviate your suffering. The choice was made, a pact sealed in blood, and it was clear Aemond intended to further lay his claim to you - as if he did not already own you, body and heart alike.

“I had hoped it would not rain,” he sighed, taking great care to remove your coat, “but this damn place has never been dry, it seems.”

“A curse,” you whispered, reaching on instinct to untie his breeches. “Punishment from the gods.”

“There is no such thing,” he asserted, hand tipping your chin to meet your gaze. “We are Targaryens,” he declared, “we are the gods.”

Dread settled deep in the pit of your stomach, then - a feeling so strong, you feared you might lose the little nerve that remained. Aemond was beyond reasoning, beyond rationality, and you knew there was nothing you could say to remind him of his own mortality, of yours. So, instead, you pulled him into a kiss.

The future grew dimmer, less and less likely to belong to you with every moment that passed, so you resigned yourself to enjoy the moment at hand. It was one you’d dreamt of, one you’d longed for with each rendezvous you shared, and Aemond seemed as eager as you. Now married, he had no qualms about touching you - calloused fingers skating across your damp skin, brushing across your shoulders, knocking the straps of your gown out of his path.

Aemond’s breath fanned across your cheek, a source of warmth in the chill of the ruins, and you leaned into it. Your nose brushed his, your lips ghosted over his cheek, his chin, his jaw as he nudged wet fabric out of his path.

“My beautiful wife,” he whispered, soft voice little more than a rasp in your ear. “I’ve oft dreamt of this moment. In only the sweetest of those dreams, you were mine to do with as I pleased. I believe this will be even sweeter.”

Heavy fabric fell from your shoulders, away from your body with every button Aemond found. A pool of red rested at your feet, the color of your house abandoned for the love of your husband. But you were not allowed long to dwell on the matter as deft fingers fell to your rain slick skin.

With steady hands, Aemond peeled your small clothes from your body - violet eye remaining on your face the entire time - before he reached for his own. Your hands, meanwhile, tangled in the dripping strands of his hair.

“You are so beautiful,” you whispered, gaze roving the sharp lines of his face. “A true sight to behold.”

Aemond came alive with your praise, a light flickering behind his eye that reminded you of the man you loved so dearly, and you were glad for it as you stood bare before him. The weight of his searching stare felt lighter, more bearable, as he finally allowed himself a moment to savor the sight of you. It felt as if he meant to commit the sight to memory, to savor the chance he was afforded, and you chose to do the same as you traced the line of his jaw with your fingertips.

Slowly, Aemond pressed you back, pausing only when you reached the foot of the bed. It was low, easy to settle upon, and he seized the opportunity to press you into the mattress. “Lie back for me,” he commanded as he began to sink to his knees, “my queen.”

Warm, calloused hands found your calves, touch so light you couldn’t be certain you hadn’t imagined it as he leaned into you.

Before you, the vision of Aemond clad in the translucent white of his shirt and unlaced breeches, his hair falling free and his sapphire eye uncovered chipped at the fragile remains of your heart. Hope reared its ugly head, gave you reason to believe this would be your forever - the sight of your husband, gazing at you with a reverence you’d never before known - when you knew that forever was far from guaranteed. The moments you shared were stolen, unearned, and if the Stranger did not separate you, your father surely would.

But every thought, every worry, every doubt - each ceased to exist the moment Aemond’s lips pressed to your skin.

Every ounce of tension, of fear, of trepidation, of doubt left your body in a soft sigh as his warm mouth pressed to your ankle. He began softly, slowly, and blazed a path across your skin. Fire burned in his wake, the impression of his mouth seared into your skin, and your breath caught in your throat the higher he inched.

“Tell me,” he urged, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your thigh, “is this what you wanted, what you hoped for all those nights we spent in the Dragonpit, in the library?”

The request was not one meant to stroke his ego, not one meant to serve as an admission of desire. It was not an idle thought, whispered in the heat of the moment. Aemond desired reassurance, acknowledgement that you thought of him as often as he thought of you, that you longed for him the way he’d always longed for you. It was a request for your love, for your commitment, for your comfort. And you long ago lost the ability to deny him much of anything.

“Yes,” you whispered, hand reaching for his - fingers twining together, grip stronger than you intended as you tethered yourself to him. “I always wished you would take me, make me wholly yours. I dreamt of sharing your bed, of seeing you like this. You always wanted to honor me, refusing to steal my maidenhead, but you cannot steal that which belongs to you.”

“Perhaps, if I had taken you then, we might’ve wed years ago,” he ruminated. “But I intend to make up for lost time.”

Aemond repeated his path, his lips pressing to your skin as he used his grip on your thigh to pull you closer to the edge of the bed. You could feel his breath fan across your skin, warming you from within, and you clasped his hand tighter as he nosed as the juncture of your thigh. 

Part of you imagined he would make you beg, eager for proof of your desire - of your need - but before your lips could part to utter his name, he surged forward.

Between your thighs, it was as if he was a man starved. Your immediate gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair, earned a soft groan from him as he lapped at your folds with the flat of his tongue. His shoulders kept your thighs parted as his hand slipped between them, calloused fingers gathering the combination of your slick and his saliva before pressing to the bundle of nerves hidden there. 

With every jolt of your body, eager for something - to run from the pleasure or sink into it, you remained uncertain - Aemond shifted closer. He alternated between broad licks, the flat of his tongue savoring the taste of you, and kitten licks, reveling in the way your hips chased each flick of his tongue. Every noise you made was met with a hum of satisfaction, a palpable relief that he could please you in a way no one had ever been allowed, and you all but gasped his name as his fingers began to explore your slick folds.

The swipe of his fingers was foreign, the brush of his thumb over your clit caused you to jolt in his grasp, and you could feel Aemond’s lips curve into a smirk as he pressed his mouth to your mound.

“Ābrazyrys,” he whispered, breath fanning across your skin as he rested his chin on your thigh, “tell me how it feels.”

Words failed you as his lips wrapped around your clit and his fingers pressed into you - slowly, carefully, tenderly - and your breathing grew labored as he worked to prepare you. The only word your mind could recall was his name. “Aemond,” you gasped, fingers tugging at the silver locks drying in the curls he hid. “Gods, Aemond.”

Warmth filled your veins, your chest, the pit of your stomach, as he pressed himself closer. That violet gaze weighed heavy on your skin, able to see through the most carefully crafted facade, and each swipe of his fingers through your slick, each press of his tongue, chipped away at another piece of you. Bit by bit, Aemond worked to break you apart, to dismantle you completely, and you knew it was only a matter of time before you shattered.

And as his fingers pressed, filling you in a way you’d never experienced, you could only hope that he would piece you together again.

“Let go,” he whispered, voice a rasp in the dim light of the room. “Take your pleasure.”

Each sensation felt like too much, too fast, but you gave in to him. You melted into the uncomfortable bedding and focused solely on his attention. The warmth of his skin pressed to yours, the silk of his hair between your fingers, the soft noises he made as he devoured you; it all overwhelmed you in the most beautiful way.

The fire in the pit of your stomach grew hotter, lapping at your skin from within, and with each breath you attempted to draw, the more eager Aemond became to hear you cry his name. And as the edges of your vision began to white, as your fingers held too tightly to him, you gave him what he wanted.

With a cry of his name, loud enough to echo through the abandoned corridors, you came.

Fire, passionate and all-consuming, flickered in Aemond’s eye as he lifted himself. He stood tall, proud, and reveled in the lust openly displayed in your gaze as he finally shucked his own wet clothing. His tunic and breeches joined your own garments; green leather and red velvet, discarded for a union that neither side would consider sacred, but you knew the time to repent had passed.

Rather than dwell, you openly gazed upon the man you’d wanted for so long.

Aemond was perfect - beautiful, ethereal in a way that made your chest ache. There was an allure to him that called to you, a draw that pulled you in and refused to grant you leave. The angle of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the slope of his nose; he bared himself fully, no ounce of his soul hidden, and you swallowed harshly as you hoped the gods would forgive you for accepting it all.

“Make me yours,” you whispered, no longer able to remember why you’d ever considered resisting. “There is nothing left but us.”

One of the most feared men in the realm, quick with a blade and quicker with dragon fire, bent to your will. With an even stride and steady hands, he pressed you further up the bed before climbing in to join you. He settled above you, his hair falling - a curtain to shield you both from the world around you - and studied your face for a long moment.

There were tears lining your lashes, a product of the storm of emotion raging in the back of your mind, and Aemond was quick to bring a thumb to your cheek. “This is not the life you hoped for,” he declared, certain, “but I shall spend the rest of mine devoted to you.”

Little remained certain in your mind but you knew Aemond meant every word.

“I know,” you assured him, lifting your own hand to carefully brush at the jagged edge of his scar. “Hope is foolish,” you whispered, urging him closer, “it has caused heartache at every turn, but it lead me to you and for that, I am grateful.”

Without allowing him a moment to speak, you pressed your lips to his. The sting of the nick reminded you of where you were, of what had taken place, but you cared little for anything other than the weight of Aemond’s body pressed to yours. His warm hands held tight to the plush of your hip, fingers pressing into the skin so deeply you feared there might be bruises come morning, as he kissed you.

Emotion - fear, doubt, anger, resentment, longing, love - filled the kiss, a clash of lips and teeth and tongue that tasted of copper, but it was all you could do to keep yourself tethered to reality as Aemond traced the leaking tip of cock through the slick of your folds.

The first time hurt - so the few friends you’d made at court declared, giggled about when your father’s back was turned and your siblings wandered away - but you emerge beyond caring. And as he pressed forward, sheathing himself inside you, you found that the slight pinch, the sting of him, cleared the fog of your thoughts and brought the world around you back into focus.

As fearsome as he’d become, Aemond’s heart beat for you. The heavy thunder of it beneath your palm, the thrum of it beneath your lips as you pressed them to the pale skin of his throat, was a reminder that there was no other choice - there never had been.

With every press of Aemond’s hips, with every breath of pleasure, every whispered Valyrian praise, the truth grew clearer.

Hope was a mirage, affording you a fantasy that never existed. The life you lead was always destined to be one of fire and blood. The blood of the dragon coursed through your veins, dripped from the slit in your lip and your palm and spilled from between your thighs as Aemond claimed the last piece of you - a piece you knew had never been yours at all.

Every bit of you, every moment of your life, belonged to someone else; your father, your uncle, your siblings, Aemond. Now, there was nothing left.

A sob escaped your lips, a broken noise that saw Aemond pause. His head lifted, violet eye immediately meeting your own, as his hand lifted to your cheek. “Did I hurt you?” His concern was evident, proven as he stilled and searched for any hint of pain.

To lie would have been easy, as mindless a breathing, but the truth weighed heavy on your chest. “No,” you whispered, swallowing hard, “but I… you were right, this isn’t the life I hoped for. I do not want to continue fighting, to see more good people die. I’ve lost one brother, I cannot bear the thought of losing another. But I know that this, lying here with you, will drive them away. And you, Aemond.” Tears clouded your vision, hiding him from your view, as you admitted, “I just want you. I do not want to be queen, nor do I want to share my husband with the realm. All I want is to be happy, to be loved. I want to be free.”

Aemond frowned, eye rapidly blinking as he attempted to make sense of the words spilling from your lips, but you shook your head. “I’ve given my family my loyalty, my father my devotion, you my heart. I have nothing left to offer,” you whispered.

“Then let me fight,” he countered, tipping his head to meet your eye. “Let me end this war and give you peace. No more will die and when I claim the throne, I will never leave your side again.”

“A beautiful thought,” you nodded, “to be sure. But you can’t promise that, no more than I can promise we shall see morning. I do not want false promises or grand fantasies. I do not want a king or a warrior. All I want, all I have ever wanted, was you.”

Silence settled then, thick and suffocating, but you could see the emotion flickering in the depth of his violet eye.

Neither of you imagined this would be your reality, neither of you ever could have dreamed you would find yourselves fighting your own kin for a crown - a throne. Neither of you imagined a life outside of one another and now, faced with the realization that loving one another was not enough, you were at a loss.

“I cannot surrender,” Aemond finally whispered, gaze fierce - pleading - as he searched for an understanding. “And you are right, I cannot promise a long future. But I can promise that I will do much and more to return to you all that you have given me. You will be my queen and you will be beloved, kind and fierce in equal measure. And your family, your father, will not perish at my hand. There is no other path to be trod.”

“Our lives are bound,” you whispered, though a fresh wave of tears tracked down your cheeks. “Your path is mine.”

Aemond leaned in, then, and pressed his mouth to yours once more. This kiss was desperate, the kiss of a man seeking reassurance, and you offered it to him. There was nothing left for you to give; no more fire, no more blood. Now, you simply took the brunt of his desperation as he pressed closer to you.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice rough in your ear as his hips began to move once more. “I can promise that I will love you for the rest of my life.”

“And I you,” you reassured him, your own hand lifting to his cheek as his eye fluttered shut.

As Aemond’s end approached, his hips snapping quicker and his breath growing heavier, he repeated promises in High Valyrian; a promise to spend the rest of his life loving you, a promise to do whatever it took to make you happy, a promise to make right the wrongs that drove you so far apart. And though they were all grand, you knew he took each word to heart.

At his peak, he cried your name - a declaration of love following - before he collapsed into you. His head pressed to your chest, his thigh draped over yours, he held you tight and you allowed him. Your fingers combed through the curling strands of his hair, over the line of his jaw, as you stared up at the crumbling ceiling.

“This war will end,” he finally whispered, voice carrying on the cool night wind, “and we shall begin anew.”

Though hope abandoned you at Harrenhal, finally freeing you of its cruel embrace, Aemond found it. In the rubble and ash, surrounded by the ruins created by your ancestors, he vowed to give you what no other ever had; the love you’d always dreamt of, the life you’d always hoped for. 

Hope was a dangerous thing, but nothing was more dangerous than Aemond Targaryen.

____________________________________________________

Author's Note: Started. Blacked out. Here we are. Bone apple teeth.

Taglist: @anaya-rhys, @holypeacecrown, @marvelously-flawed, @travelingmypassion, @letsgotothehop, @reynacrawford, @liannafae, @ffsg0jo

[edytae]

Rush³: Bed (smut-mature) ft Kim Taehyung x Reader

(do not interact if you are underage)

pairing: non-idol!Taehyung x (female) reader

summary: just a short porn

rating: 18+

genre/warnings: smut, spit play, dirty talk, oc is whiny and desperate, unprotected sex (always use protection!)

word count: 6.8K

masterlist | part1 rush: concert | part2 rush: club | part3: rush: bed

——–——

You and mostly Taehyung fell tired after the refreshing shower. He teased you that the two of you were getting old. “We would’ve been fucking like rabbits if it was five years ago.” He groaned as he sat on the couch with a backache after cleaning the mess you made on your couch. You chuckled tiredly. 

You were clasping onto your glass with all your strength and casually drinking as Taehyung started munching on some leftover pasta with beer. You were too horny and you wanted him to fuck you again. As Taaehyung seemed too tired and hungry, you opted for drinking. 

“You are an actual goddess for saving these for me.”  He was obnoxiously moaning with a mouth filled with pasta. 

You couldn't help but be drawn to the way he savoured each bite, his enjoyment apparent in the way his eyes fluttered shut briefly with every mouthful. 

You look up Taehyung's side profile. His fluffy hair wasn’t styled, his pretty handsome face moisturised with your expensive stuff, lips moisturized by greasy pasta. You were still yearning for him after he made you ruin his trousers with only a few of his fingers. 

His natural brown hair curled to his forehead to accentuate his strong jawline and captivating features. The weariness of the day lingered in the lines around his eyes, yet his gaze remained as striking and magnetic as ever.

Taehyung's casual attire, comfortable T-shirt and loose-fitting sweatpants, contrasted with the elegance he naturally exuded.  With a beer in hand, his Adam's apple bobbed gently as he took a long, refreshing sip. His eyes met yours, and the shared warmth between you filled the room, creating an atmosphere that was both comforting and intimate. Despite the fatigue that weighed on both of you, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for having him by your side. Your house feels like a home when he is in it. He makes the room lit up, he makes you feel alive, and aware of time and place. 

“Whatcha looking at?” He asked.

“Looking at something pretty.” You said, eyeing him up and down. Oh, the soju shot you had while he warmed up the leftovers was definitely kicking in. He fluffed the hair at his nape like a princess and blew you a kiss. Even though he could return for some mindless TV, you had soju-brain so you continued to eat him up with your eyes.

Taehyung's presence was magnetic, drawing your gaze as if he were the centre of your universe. Every aspect of his appearance seemed meticulously crafted by an artist's hand, his every feature melding together to form a breathtaking portrait of masculine allure.

As he leaned back on his couch, his form exuded a relaxed confidence, an easy grace that spoke of a man comfortable in his own skin. The way he moved, the way he spoke, he had the hallmarks of a natural charisma, drawing you in with an almost gravitational force. Each detail, from the way he sipped his drink to the way he absentmindedly chewed, only served to deepen your fascination.

You took your third shot of the night. The crispy alcohol burnt through your throat as Taehyung looked at you questioningly. His face squeezed into a worried look. 

“You’re so fucking hot.” You blurred, your core gaping because of his fingers; but he didn’t need to know that. 

Taehyung grinned, “Yeah? You still have orgasms left in you, baby?” He asked you in pity. You licked your lips and stared at him. 

When he swallowed his last bite along with the last sip of his beer, you literally jumped on him. You couldn’t wait anymore “Y/N!” He squeaked.

“Tae… Kiss me…” You whined when you straddled his thighs and started kissing every bit of skin you could reach, Taehyung knew the second round had just begun.

“Baby!” He scolded you as you kissed around his face. “You gotta stop kiss-attacking me…” He whined but sounded so pleased. 

“Why not?” You stopped kissing him immediately with a fake pout. “You don’t like my kisses?” 

An hour ago, your body was jelly on him. He quite literally made you lose your mind as he finger fucked you to another planet. Now, you were back to demand more of his sweet pleasure.

Taehyung loved how you easily got into a playful zone and fucking play with him as if he was your doll. You moulded him to your pleasure. “I- I love them, baby…” He whispered quietly as you took your spot on him. Your weight on his thighs was spectacular. Your freshly washed hair was still slightly damped, making Taehyung shiver at the gentle cold feeling. 

The shower was sweet and tender. He helped you wash your hair and was surprised by the amount of hair that fell out. Then, he let you wash his hair too. You played with his hair and gave him a mohawk with your shampoo. You washed his body with your new body wash– the ocean breeze scent was going to be a new hit in Taehyung’s shower routine. Your hand timidly wrapped around his length, “I squirted a gallon, and you haven’t cum yet.” 

Taehyung, instead, interlaced your fingers with his and made out with you. “It’s fine, baby… Let’s enjoy our shower.” 

After the shower, while you put on your skincare, he stood right behind you–with your hideous robe around his waist. He looked delicious. Wet Taehyung was fucking sexy than everything. While the robe threatened to fall down, he leisurely decided to shave. Unfortunately, you have run out of razors for him so he opted for using your Gillette Venus. 

“Is this new?” He pointed at the razor head. He never had this good-looking razor. The purple colour was pretty too.

“I use it before going to laser removal. I used it a couple of times.” You watched him shrug and put on shaving cream. 

You warned him with a squeal, “Taehyung, you know I shaved down there with that.” 

Taehyung looked at you blankly. “You know, down here…” You pointed with your hand but he remained confused. 

“I am sure I have an unused one. Let me–” 

Taehyung’s reaction was priceless. “Y/N. I would smear myself with your cunt any second of the day and have you for breakfast, lunch and dinner. So, I don’t mind if this little razor touched your little mound. Got it?”

You looked at him through the mirror and nodded. He hummed lowly and started shaving. You liked his little stubble beard. It made him look more mature and in your opinion, yummy. However, your little mound– as he called it– got irritated whenever he ate you out. His choice was clear between eating you out as hard as he wanted or his bad excuse of a beard. 

You were eager to put on skincare on him after he shaved, but both of you were very tired. You pouted as you slathered yourself in body lotion, “I need you to be my little spa girl, but I am sooo tired, TaeTae…”  

Taehyung laughed at you as you messily rubbed lotion on your legs. He followed you to your room with a pink floral towel around his waist. He enjoyed being in your company, soaking your slightly horny domestic side.

“Taehyung…” Taehyung flinched out from his daydreaming as you groaned over his crotch. Your hips were rocking against him like a teenager. When he looked at your face, he could only focus on your lustful eyes. 

“Yes, baby?” He answered back. He let himself get lured into you. 

“I need you again.” You whispered. 

“You need me to do what, baby?” He threaded your hair fringe behind your ear.

“I need your dick… Taehyung, please…” You tried to chase his dick but he wasn’t supporting an erection. His raging dick had just come down.

“Taehyung please…” You cried on his lap. 

Taehyung chuckled with a pitying tone. “You are such a needy girl, baby. I can’t–” His teasing abruptly stopped when you cried. “Y/N?” He yelled. “Why are you crying, baby? What’s wrong?” His worried tone made you feel guilty. 

“I–hh- am s-stil so w–et f-for you, Taehyung.” You wouldn’t believe you were shedding tears because of how horny you were. 

Taehyung’s face softened, “Y/N… I– You are one crazy girl, you know that right?” He wiped the tears off of your cheeks and pecked them gently. 

“You make me crazy…” You wheezed out as he shook his head. 

“Unbelievable, Y/N.” He was amazed at your unwavering neediness. 

“You can’t let me be dickless...” You kissed down his throat, pushing and pulling him all the places as you writhed on his spreaded thighs. 

“Be dickless?” He chuckled. He melted into the couch as he let you take reign.

You shrugged. You didn’t want him to speak, you needed his pretty lips on you. “You never fuck me.” You cried but no tears came out. You were the epitome of his pampered princess.

“I never fuck you? How many times did we hang out this week?” He interrogated.

“Not enough.” You didn’t like how he was still talking, but it was intentional. He would do anything to just stretch your patience thin.

“Three days a week right?” He did the math for you.

“I need seven.” You shrugged and pushed his head back to kiss on his neck. 

“Seven days a week?” Taehyung chuckled as he let you be his little vampire. 

“24/7. All day.” Kissing him wasn’t enough. You had enough of kissing his delicious skin for minutes and you were still starving. 

You bit his soft cheeks and jaw, making him hiss playfully. “Are you hungry, baby? I would’ve shared my leftovers with you if you asked.” Taehyung pointed at the empty plate on the coffee table. 

“Tae… I wanna fuck you so hard…” You spurred while pulling his useless pants away. Taehyung promised himself to never be clothed around you. It seemed they made your job only more difficult.

“You can’t.” Taehyung ripped your hands away as your eyes widened with worry. You pulled yourself back to his knees, giving him space.

“I can’t?” You asked with worry.

Taehyung grinned, “I just cleaned the couch. We need to go to the bed if you want to fuck me.” He pointed to the huge wet patch on the couch.

You rolled your eyes. “You are so mean, Taehyung.” You lunged forward to hug him. 

“You really thought I wouldn’t want this, huh?” Taehyung teased.

You shrugged, “You have every right to…” 

Taehyung caressed your back softly as you kissed his pretty shoulders.

“Let’s go to bed so you can fuck me, okay?” He offered.

Your eyes found him, “I will fuck your brains out, Kim Taehyung.” You held his face with your one hand and pursed his lips like a fish.

“G-gewd.” He sputtered out. His drool smeared into your hand.

You wrapped your legs around Taehyung’s waist as he got ready to stand up. “Be careful grandpa.” 

Taehyung rolled his eyes, yes he was getting old but he wasn’t that old yet. Just to prove to you how strong he was, he got up, tossed you up slightly with his hold on your ass. He gave them a nice squeeze, which earned him a squeal.

Taehyung thought he was in for a treat, but as soon as his back hit the bed, you started whining for dick. Again. 

“You are LITERALLY the hottest man I have ever seen.” You clawed at his biceps.

“Yeah, butter me up.” Taehyung smirked. You could do some foreplay, but there was no point when he made you squirt every drop of essence. 

“No! I am not buttering you up. I am just telling my scientific observation.” When you pulled his shirt up, your mouth watered just like the first time. He was exciting every single time.

Taehyung rested against your pillows as you pulled his sweatpants off too. He chuckled when your eyes went hazy as your core hit his hardness. He was your sweet drug and you were his. “A-and what I say is the l-law…”

“Is that so?” He grabbed your chin so he wouldn’t lose a second of your pleasure. You let him hold your head as you hummed. “Who made you the president?” Taehyung asked.

Your hands piteously grabbed his chest. Your grinds were enough to calm you down. His hardness glided between your folds as you dropped your head back to feel every bit of skin.

“You messy girl. Look what have you done?” Tae scolded you as your cream smeared all over his shaft and made him leak out precum onto his stomach. 

When you looked where you met him, you saw your lips gliding against his length smoothly. Your excuse of thin panties was useless as Taehyung pulled them to the side. A cute flinch hit you every time Taehyung’s head hit your clit. Your mind was too busy to answer him as Taehyung noticed. You were long gone. 

“Tae…” You murmured, now you were gripping his bicep and his other free hand as he supported your moves. 

“Yeah, baby?” He quietly asked. 

“Top me.” You looked at him with begging eyes, almost forcing tears to your eyes once again.

Taehyung closed his eyes as he dropped his face to the side. His face was adorned with a bashy smile. You kissed the side of his throat, “Please, baby. I really, really need you. You fuck better than I do. You know I have weak thighs.” 

Taehyung’s smile only grew bigger, “I fucking knew it.” He said in a pleased tone. 

You realised how close you were to crying when your runny nose made an appearance. “W-what did you know?” 

Taehyung wrapped his arms around you and in one swift motion, he rolled you under him. “That you would be a fucking pillow princess. Again.” 

You gasped, “I– You said everything I want!” Your voice wavered. 

Taehyung kissed your forehead, “Yes, my princess.” He took his place between your thighs. His view was somewhat obstructed by your panties. His knees dug inside the mattress as his torso hovered over you. 

Your hips bucked up to him at the sweet pet name. You held his pretty waist and tried desperately to hump him. 

Taehyung was adorned by your eagerness. He was also very much accustomed to your cute antics. He needed to fuck your brains out, or else he would have you begging him all weekend. No need to lie, he loved both of the options.

“You need to be fucked, princess?” He rubbed his nose down your neck. His warm breath was tickling all of your senses. 

“Yes! If you don’t, I think I’ll explode.” Your desperation further amused Taehyung. His wet tongue swiped against your chest, just above your breasts. 

“We’ll see if you explode, then…” Taehyung murmured against your skin. His spit-covered lips kissed the whole of your neck before aiming for your breasts. His hands easily grabbed one with a firm touch. 

“Tae…” You called his name as Taehyung suckled your nipples. The image was so intoxicating, you couldn't help but moan, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. Taehyung's eyes flicked up to meet yours, a smirk playing on his lips as he lavished attention on your breasts, his tongue swirling around your sensitive nipples.

His other hand traced a path down your body, caressing your sides, your hips, before finally dipping between your thighs. 

And you had the audacity to whine. 

“I just fucked the shit out of you and you still shiever when I touch this little mound.” Taehyung groaned. His hand cupped your core harshly.

“I can’t help it.” You hiccuped when he circled your clit. The cotton of your panties burnt your skin.

Taehyung mimicked your pout. He was so adorable and hot and sexy and attractive…

Your train of thought was interrupted when his fingers deftly slid under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them aside. You shivered as the cool air brushed against your exposed skin, your body arching instinctively toward him.

Taehyung's eyes, dark and filled with a mix of lust and affection, met your core. When he fingered you earlier this night, he couldn’t see your delicious cunt, so he needed to take his well-earned dessert. 

He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. Your arms immediately wrapped around his head, locking him into the kiss. Taehyung gladly kissed you back, and let you play with his tongue. 

When he realised you were out of breath, he let you pull his hair, but a string of spit connected your lips. 

"Out of br–" Before Taehyung could finish asking, you whined.

"Spit into my mouth, Tae..."

His eyes darkened with desire at your request. He growled a dirty curse before his teeth caught your bottom lip. “Pwease…” you whined under him, your plea dripping with desperation.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. “Beg me.” His lower body pressed into yours, his hand grabbing your breast with a firm squeeze. His voice was commanding, filled with authority as he leaned closer.

Your voice caught in your throat, your breath hitching from the intensity of the moment. “P-please…” you stammered, your need palpable.

“Not good enough,” he murmured, his grip tightening slightly. “I want to hear you beg, baby. Show me how much you want it.”

You took a deep breath, your entire body trembling with need. “Please, Taehyung, please spit into my mouth. I need it. I need you,” you begged, your voice finally finding the right note of desperation.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips. “Good girl,” he praised. “I love it when you’re so needy for me.”

He moved closer, his hand moving to your jaw, holding it firmly as he hovered over your lips. The anticipation was almost too much to bear as you watched him, your eyes wide and pleading.

“Open wide,” he commanded, his voice low and gravelly. You obeyed instantly, your mouth opening as you looked up at him with a mixture of need and submission.

“Such a dirty girl,” he murmured, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. “And all mine.” He let a string of spit fall from his mouth into yours, the act raw and primal. You moaned, closing your eyes as you savoured the sensation, your body responding to the dominance he exuded.

“Does my baby like that?” he asked, his tone both teasing and possessive. “Do you like it when I take control?”

“Yes, Tae,” you breathed, your voice trembling. “I love it. I love you.”

“Good,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. “Because I’m not done with you yet. I’m going to make you beg for me again and again.”

You shivered at his words, your body aching for more of his touch, more of his dominance. “Please, Taehyung, don’t stop,” you pleaded, your hands gripping his shoulders.

“I won’t, baby,” he promised, his voice a low rumble. “I’m going to give you everything you want. Just keep begging for me.”

“Yes, Taehyung, please,” you whimpered, your need for him growing with every passing second. “I need you. I need you so much.”

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. 

“Please, Taehyung, please,” you repeated, your voice a desperate plea.

With a smirk, Taehyung leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. The intensity of the moment consumed you, and you knew that with Taehyung, you would always be begging for more.

Taehyung got a hold of his dick and pointed his head right below your clit. Your warm skin and the sacred skin contact made his insides liquid. 

Your back bucked with a pathetic moan.

Taehyung’s large palm firmly hit against your tit. “ Stop crying. I’ll feed you dick now. 

His words sent a thrill through you as his hand soothed the skin of your chest. His free hand was wrapped around his cock deliciously. He stood tall and hard between your legs and only caused your mouth to water.

His words sent a thrill through you as his hand soothed the stinging skin of your chest. His free hand was wrapped around his cock deliciously. He stood tall and hard between your legs, causing your mouth to water with anticipation. The way he handled himself, every move deliberate and commanding, only heightened your desire.

He smirked, watching your reaction, and slowly dragged his length along your folds, teasing you. “You want it that bad, don’t you?” he taunted, his voice a low, seductive growl.

“Yes, please, Taehyung,” you whimpered, your hips lifting towards him, desperate for more.

“Pathetic,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he continued to tease you, rubbing his tip against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. “So needy and desperate. Look at you, so ready to be filled.”

You could feel yourself getting wetter, the anticipation almost unbearable. “Please, Taehyung, I need it,” you begged, your voice trembling with want.

With a smug grin, Taehyung finally gave in, sliding himself into you with one smooth motion, filling you completely. You gasped, clutching at his arms, nails digging into his skin as he set a steady, relentless pace.

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he praised, his eyes locked onto yours, a mix of lust and admiration. “Such a good girl.”

His words made you shiver, adding to the intense pleasure building inside you. “More, Taehyung, please,” you pleaded, your body moving with his, matching his rhythm.

“Greedy little thing,” he growled, increasing his pace, driving deeper with each thrust. “You can’t get enough, can you? Always wanting more.”

You could only moan in response, your mind lost in the overwhelming sensations. His harsh grip on your hips, the way he stretched you, filled you—it was everything you needed and more.

You sputtered. Taehyung was unclear about what you were saying. 

“I can’t hear you, baby.” His voice was rough as he continued to pound you even harder. “Got a huge dick in your tummy?” He laughed as you grabbed his forearms. 

Taking a deep breath, you summoned your courage. "C-choke me..." you stammered. His thrusts slowed down as he processed your words. You repeated yourself, more firmly this time, "I want your hand around my neck. Please... Give me your hand."

A dark, lustful look crossed Taehyung's face. His grip on your hips tightened as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "You want me to choke you, baby?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you can handle that?"

“Yes, please,” you whispered, your eyes pleading.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “Desperate little slut,” he murmured, his hand slowly travelling up to your neck. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t apply any pressure—just let his hand rest there, a promise of control.

You gasped, the anticipation almost too much to bear. Your core frantically squeezed around him. 

Taehyung chuckled darkly. “You love being my doll, don’t you?” He put pressure on your neck for only a moment. Your core was flooded with juice as your breath was hindered for only a second.

“Yeah… I’m your–s-s.” You forced out. Your legs were sore, your core was begging to find release. 

“Good girl,” he praised, his hand back to being loose. When he noticed your frustration, he changed the tempo. Rather than going shallow but fast, he pushed himself further in with a slow tempo. 

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.  “You’re mine, understand? Only mine.”

You sniffed, pleasure started to become too much. “Yeah… Taehyung…” You weakly moaned his name. If he didn’t stop, you could cum, very soon.

Sensing your impending climax, Taehyung’s eyes gleamed with a mix of possessiveness and delight. “So close, baby? You gonna cum for me?” he whispered, his voice dripping with dark allure.

“Yes… so close,” you whimpered, your body arching into his, craving every inch of contact. You held on to his arm on your neck for emotional support.

“Not yet,” he growled softly, his hand on your neck tightening slightly as his thrusts slowed down even more. “I want to feel you completely, every part of you.”

Then, to your utter frustration, Taehyung stopped moving, staying buried deep inside you. The sudden stillness sent a shiver through your entire body. Only your fast heartbeat and his deep breaths filled your ears. 

He was still in you, planted as far as he could go. "Taehyung, please," you begged, your voice a desperate whisper.

He tsked, “You can’t even wait a second, can you?” 

Your hips bucked against him involuntarily,  and you whimpered, tears of frustration gathering in your eyes.

“Aww… Babygirl doesn’t like being teased.” 

Your body responded immediately, your muscles tightening around him, your moans growing louder. "Oh god, Taehyung... yes!" you cried out, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak.

“I’ll– I will cum now… Please, TaeTae…” You screamed. With a deep long chuckle from the hot man above you, you reached the peak of your orgasm.

Your climax hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you in a wave of pure ecstasy. Your body convulsed, your moans turning into a high-pitched cry as you clung to him, your nails digging into his back.

He continued to pound into you, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. "There you go… Such a good girl to cum for me, baby. No, no, don’t stop. I want to feel you cum all over my cock properly." He demanded, his voice thick with desire.

Taehyung groaned, the sight and feel of your climax pushing him over the edge. He buried himself deep inside you, his own release washing over him, mingling with yours in a blissful symphony of pleasure.

As you both came down from the high, he loosened his grip on your neck, his hand moving to gently caress your cheek. “You did so well, baby,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “So perfect.”

He tsked, “You can’t even wait a second, can you?”

Your hips bucked against him involuntarily, and you whimpered, tears of frustration gathering in your eyes.

“Aww… Babygirl doesn’t like being teased,” he mocked, a cruel smirk curling on his lips. “Pathetic little thing, so desperate for my cock.”

You squirmed beneath him, trying to create any friction to ease the intense need burning inside you. “Please, Taehyung,” you begged, your voice cracking. “I need you.”

His grip on your neck tightened, making you gasp. “You think you can make demands?” he sneered. “You’ll take what I give you and be grateful.”

“Please,” you whimpered, your hands clutching at his arms. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“You’re going to have to,” he growled, his hips still not moving. 

When your bottom lip pursed, his hunger awakened. He leaned down closer to you, leaving your neck free. 

“Oh, babygirl…” He whimpered against your chin and took a bite of your bottom lip. It was soft between his teeth. With a slight pressure, he could taste your skin. Instead, he licked on them. Your mouth immediately fell open for the intrusion as Taehyung pushed his tongue in. 

While you played a tug war with his tongue, your sporadic clenches on him continued. Despite not being actively fucked, you were getting tighter and tighter around him. 

His eyes gleamed with satisfaction at your desperation. "Naughty girl," he sneered when your hands travelled down his back to push his hips deeper.

He retracted his wet appendage from your mouth. Still hovering over you, he murmured, “What are we going to do to these grabby hands?” He asked with mock worry.

Without letting you speak up–not that you had any capacity, Taehyung made a decision. 

A decision that grew you wetter. 

He grabbed both of your wrists and crossed them over your head. A position that you loved and got you to orgasm promptly.

“Is it too much, babygirl?” He asked as his hand covered your wrists. 

You shook your head no, “It’s perfect.” 

“Hmm?” Taehyung set a gentle pace as a start. He eased you back into pleasure. With him being slightly leaned towards you, he could go in deeper.

“Tae…” Your body rolled every time he brushed against your sweet spot. Beautiful shivers washed over your body shook beneath him. 

“Yeah, baby? You like it?” Taehyung focused on how your lips curled into an “o” shape. “Is this a good spot?” He gave a stronger stroke.

“T-the best!” You squealed. 

“It’s gonna make you cum, baby?” Your eyes opened big when Taehyung asked you. You looked at him confused as if you had forgotten about your orgasm. 

“Mhmm, baby?” Taehyung further egged as his hips steadily worked.

You couldn’t answer either of his questions but a cute moan was all the answer Taehyung needed. 

“Yeah, baby? You like it?” Taehyung focused on how your lips curled into an “o” shape. “Is this a good spot?” He gave a stronger stroke.

“T-the best!” you squealed, your voice trembling with pleasure.

“Yeah? So why don’t you cum on my dick to show?”

Without further hesitation, he thrust into you a bit faster, filling you completely in one go and pulling out just to overstimulate that heavenly spot.

The sensation was overwhelming, slightly painful as your body arched off the bed despite his body on you. 

“Baby…” You sighed as your hands tugged on his. The pleasure was immaculate. 

Taehyung waited a few seconds, “Let me see it.” 

You opened your eyes to see Taehyung perfectly standing between your legs, completely inside of you. “I’ll–” You said as your core squeezed him.

“It’s gonna make you cum, baby?” Taehyung asked, his eyes locked onto yours. Your eyes opened wide in surprise, momentarily forgetting about your impending orgasm.

“Mhmm, baby?” Taehyung egged on further, his hips steadily working, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you.

You couldn’t answer either of his questions, but a cute moan was all the answer Taehyung needed. He smirked, watching the way your body responded to him, the way you squirmed and gasped beneath him.

“Cum for me, princess,” he murmured, his voice a seductive growl. “I want to see you fall apart.”

His words were the final push you needed. Your body tensed, every muscle tightening as the orgasm ripped through you. Your vision blurred, and you cried out, your back arching off the bed as you came hard around him.

Taehyung watched you intently, his gaze filled with a mix of awe and satisfaction. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his own voice thick with pleasure. “You look so beautiful when you cum.”

Your body trembled, the aftershocks of your orgasm making you shiver. Taehyung continued to thrust gently, riding out your release, his eyes never leaving your face.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his hands caressing your sides soothingly. 

“I love you so much, Taehyung,” you whispered, your voice filled with genuine affection as he held you close. Your sweat was cooling off, heart beating so frantically against your ribs.

Taehyung paused for a moment, his eyes widening slightly in surprise at your heartfelt confession. 

“So so much…” You added. 

“Is it post-nut talking?” Taehyung asked playfully, his voice laced with amusement and a hint of disbelief.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at his unexpected response. “No, I want more…” You cried. Both for your own orgasm and for his too. 

“Fucking brat.” Taehyung cursed in disbelief. You knew how to push his buttons. He murmured against your skin. “I can’t wait to make you mine again and again so I can make your cry out those words.”

His threat sounded heaven to your ears. “Please, Taehyung….”

Taehyung’s hips found their pace back. It was moderately fast, but the lewd squelching noises were now almost too loud. “Dirty girl.” Taehyung commented a few times after a particularly loud one. 

“Please faster.” You asked when you felt comfortable. And Taehyung immediately obliged as if he was just waiting for you to ask. 

Taehyung immediately obliged, increasing the tempo of his thrusts with a primal need that matched your own urgency.

The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure building higher and higher until you could hardly think straight. Taehyung’s hands roamed over your skin, his touch igniting flames of desire everywhere he caressed.

“Ugh, ugh, Taehyung…” You moaned his name out. Your hands squeezed his shoulders. “I-I changed my mind. Slow! Slow!” 

Taehyung laughed through his nose as he followed your request once again. “Ah, You are such a pampered princess! Did it hurt, baby?”

He cooed your hips as you mumbled. “Only a bit…But it feels good when… when you are deep.” 

“Do you enjoy it when I am this deep?” He repeated as he scooted towards you more, plunging his dick deeper than before. You sighed when he filled you to the brim. Even taking a breath was enough for you to have him bump into your sensitive spots.

“Can you feel it?” You held Taehyung’s wrist and placed his hand on your stomach. When Taehyung slightly moved following your touch, his cock again hit your cervix again. 

“Fuck!” You couldn’t help yourself. 

“What’s wrong baby?” Taehyung innocently asked as he moved his hips again.

You answered Taehyung with only your moans. His head continued to give sweet kisses to your cervix and electrify your entire body. 

Your orgasm was back already with all of its glory. 

“You like it when I hit your cervix, baby?” Taehyung whispered, his hands simultaneously pressing your tummy.

Before you could answer, he snapped his hips a bit more forcefully to knock out any words that could come out. 

“Of course you do… You love anything I do to you, right?” Taehyung asked.

You nodded, “I– I love y-you…” You repeated. The fact needed to get inside of his pretty head.

Your words seemed to fuel Taehyung as he planted his hands on the side of your head and started snapping his hips at a fast pace. Now, you knew you had no choice but cum. 

Pleasure was hot and messy. You felt impossibly wet. “I’ll cum! I will–” 

It was pointless to warn him. 

“Y/N, you are gonna open your eyes and cum like my little slut.” Taehyung ordered. His voice was thick with desire, his words sending a thrill through you. 

You opened your eyes to find Taehyung completely spent, his features illuminated by a deep desire to rock your world. His eyes, dark and intense, were fixed on you with a mixture of tenderness and desire. His jawline, sharp and defined, was accentuated by the way he clenched his teeth. Sweat glistened on his forehead, dampening his tousled hair that fell in waves over his forehead.

Taehyung's chest rose and fell rapidly. The veins on his neck and biceps down to his hands were showing. His muscles were strained and on a mission to get you high. His skin was flushed with exertion, a rosy hue spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. 

When your eyes found his, you felt a river form in between your legs. It was impossible to get any wetter and Taehyung still managed to drive you insane. “S-so hot…” You slurred.

To answer you, he thrust harder, deeper, his movements becoming more forceful. Pleasure surged through you as Taehyung drove you towards another peak of ecstasy, his touch pushing you beyond the limits of rational thought.

“C-cum w-ith me-e.” You screeched.

Your orgasm hit you like a brick wall. It shook your entire body and soul in pure ecstasy. Your mind went through hundreds of emotions as your moans continued to entertain Taehyung. 

As you swam through the mind-blowing high, Taehyung stayed inside you. Your senses were heightened, every touch, every sound, every sensation magnified. Watching you cum made Taehyung realise how his own high was palpable. He could cum if he didn’t pull it out. But if he did pull himself out, he would ruin your orgasm. 

The decision was easy. 

“Ugh, baby…” Taehyung lunged over you. Your body melted into the bed but you welcomed him with a hug. 

A messy kiss stained Taehyung’s cheek as he whispered. “Do you want me to cum inside?” 

You screamed. “Fuck yes!” 

With your approval, it took him only three thrusts to empty himself inside you. The long, throaty growl he let out was a feast to your ears as he painted your inside. 

“Taehyung…” Your nails dug into his skin painfully as you pressed him impossibly closer to you. 

With a deep breath, Taehyung rolled off of you. He was scared to crush you under his weight. But when his back hit your bed, he felt you lay on him, your tit pressed into his pec. Taehyung sighed, pleased. “I love you, Taehyung.” You whispered into his ear. 

"I love you even more." he murmured, his voice a tender caress. 

You sighed as you tangled yourself into his embrace. He kissed your forehead and asked your half-asleep figure. “Did you have enough, baby?” 

You pressed a kiss to his collarbone, “Only for tonight. You should rest for the morning.”

Taehyung scoffed, “You should prepare yourself to ride my face.” 

“Hmm, sure sure. Sleep now.” You kissed his collarbone again and nuzzled your face to his naked skin.

“Your breast is touching my ribs.” He said giggly. 

“Yeah? Your cum is dripping out of me.” 

“Do you want me to clean you?” He worriedly asked.

“If you move Taehyung… If you move, I will tape myself to you for the rest of your life and you will have to pee in front of me forever.” You squeezed yourself in as he brushed your hair out of his face.

“Well, you are the freak that can’t pee in front of me. So, I am fine.” Taehyung shrugged. 

“I am the freak because I don’t want you to see me pee? How does it make sense?” You weren’t as comfortable as he was at talking about poops, burps and pees with him. Despite knowing him for years and seeing each other in every compromised position, you needed Taehyung to think you didn’t do any of the things. 

Taehyung was quite the opposite. 

“Yeah, you begged me to spit inside your mouth so you're a freak.” He shrugged his shoulders which made your head move on his pecs. 

You held his face again, puckered his lips and licked them. “I am your very sleepy freak then. Goodnight, darling.” 

Taehyung was going to argue more but you calling him darling caught him off guard. With a satisfied snicker, he lay under you, his arms wrapping around you possessively. You could feel the contentment radiating from him as he settled into the bed, pulling you close so your bodies were pressed together.

“Goodnight, darling.” He repeated with a kiss on your head. He felt your body go stiff only momentarily before nuzzling yourself to him like a kitten. 

The night's sleep was good. Taehyung had you cuddling with him as long as you wanted. 

After, maybe thirty minutes later, Taehyung felt you get up. He heard the soft patter of your feet on the floor as you made your way to the bathroom, the faint sound of the toilet lid closing, and then the gentle rush of water as you cleaned yourself. But soon, you joined him back in the same exact position. Taehyung felt your faint kisses on his cheeks and fell back to sleep. Close to sunrise, he felt you slip off him because it was getting warmer, but you continued to hold his hand and peck his long fingers as he drifted on and off to sleep.

The slight booze and huge amount of physical exertion knocked two of you good as the deep, restful slumber awaited.

————

masterlist | part1 rush: concert | part2 rush: club | part3: rush:bed recommendation: i’m mad & you’re mine |

[perfectlyoongi]

HUSBAND!TAEHYUNG who proposed to you under the eiffel tower. it was a weekend full of romance and love, so many activities and promises filling your schedule that it didn't seem strange at all when he took you to the eiffel tower in the middle of the night; but when he knelt down and held your hand, you swore that the whole world had disappeared and that only you and Taehyung existed — he made everything disappear, except your love. “i want these days to repeat themselves until the end of our days. will you marry me?”

HUSBAND!TAEHYUNG who writes in your wedding shoes and you in his. it was a small idea he had the night before the wedding: like a good luck charm, Taehyung suggested exchanging signatures on your shoes, as if showing everyone that you, even before getting married, had already shared a long journey of life together. “it’s like a symbol of good luck. to show that we will always walk side by side and be there for each other no matter what.”

HUSBAND!TAEHYUNG who takes photos of both of you in shop windows. it was a custom that Taehyung created when you were still dating: it was a simple, banal, even sweet way of marking not only your date but also your clothes; huge photographs of you as a blurred couple became special to both of you, as if announcing to everyone that not only were you together, but you were also constantly going out — the flame of your relationship never went out, not even when you got married. “i can count how many times we went out to share our love and how many times i loved you in public. there is nothing more beautiful than that.”

HUSBAND!TAEHYUNG that takes you to see romantic plays and recitals. weekend nights became more exciting when Taehyung showed up with two tickets to the new play that was showing at the city theater; they were hours of pure love, faked between rehearsed lines and precise movements, but, nevertheless, beautiful and credible — so credible that Taehyung could only compare your relationship to theirs. “i have tickets for a new ballet recital. it's about two lovers who are destined to be together, just like us. let's go?”

HUSBAND!TAEHYUNG who offers you a locket with your wedding date inside. the golden thread glittered in the sun, enchanting the world with the love that Taehyung felt for you; inside it, a small white fabric was stained with a very strong blue paint: a part of the shirt that Taehyung wore to the wedding and the pen that you two used to sign the reality of a dream. “so that the happiest day of our lives can provide a little strength and happiness on heavier days.”

HUSBAND!TAEHYUNG who always shows you a rainbow because he believes that it is the gods celebrating your love. Taehyung believed that the happy colors of the rainbow were a reflection of your history: seven stages that led you to the present, seven encounters that fueled you during your dating times, seven promises that were the basis of your relationship — it seemed like number seven was your number and all the colors were the joys you brought to each other. “it’s us once again. look how the red and purple shine. it just makes me love you even more.”

HUSBAND!TAEHYUNG who swears that your love transcends physical death. even in your wedding vows Taehyung stated that there was no end to your love: physical death was just the end of a new stage for you; you and Taehyung would constantly meet again, not giving any value to the physical body when your souls spoke louder and he knew that nothing could separate you — not even death. “like a circle, our love is continuous without any gaps. in this and all realities.”

[scriblubed-bonnibel]

Super Blind

Close friends to lovers | Jordan Li x (gn)reader

Reader will use they/them pronouns as well (lets go nonbinaries woooh <3) Just some oneshot I’ve been brain rotting about while scrolling through tumblr.

Summary: Jordan and y/n have been flirting every now and then but can’t seem to confess. One day they just… do.

Context: reader has powers that affect their emotions. Be it taking them from others, making them feel emotions, just reading their emotions, and sometimes they can even exude their emotions; having others feel it when closer to the reader.

Warnings: bad language, cute moments, kissing

If you aren’t ok with the whole “switching between masc and fem” thing then feel free to click off (tho i doubt it cause ure reading a Jordan Li fic so yeah)

—————————————————————————

“Emma I don’t know anymore! Jordan’s probably high fucking some- fucking dude! And I’m here lonely-“ “hey!” Emma looks at me offended, “and ranting to my best friend about my crush for like what- years now!” Emma stands up and puts her hands on my shoulders, “hey, if it’s worth anything. JORDAN TOTALLY FUCKING LIKES YOU YOU IDIOT.” She shakes me back and forth.

“You’re just saying that” I brush her off and flop on my bed. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She looks at me dumbfounded and as if I said the stupidest thing ever. “They literally gaze at you. And did you not notice the fact that uhhh you have flowers on your desk from them!” She gestures to the small flower arrangement on my desk.

“Big whoop. They got those flowers for me after I recovered from that stupid slip.” I rolled my eyes at her. “This-“ Emma trails off in frustration and face palms. “Listen, I’m just saying, Jordan, one of the top students, most probably maybe possibly has a crush on you maybe wants to even fuck you!” I laugh at her and just pull the covers over myself. “I doubt it! Now leave cause I’m pretty sure you’re late for one of your classes.”

“OH SHI-“ she’s cut off by the sound of a door slamming shut. “Loser” I laugh and close my eyes under the blanket, trying to just forget about Jordan… Jordan… Jordan… and.. y/n. Y/n and Jordan. A dreamy sigh escapes my lips as I swoon once more. Without even realizing, sleep takes over me.

Gentle knocks from my door wakes me up. “Emma for the last time my door is always open!!” I yell. “You lock your door once when she wants to visit and she just forgets it’s always open..” I grumble. The door opens slowly. “Y/n..?” Jordan’s voice calls out.

wait

Jordan’s. Voice? Their. Voice? Panic shoots through me as I sit up in distress. “Jordan-“ i cough quickly to try to sound less panicked, “uh- ahem Jordan! Hey, hi! DONT COME IN- I’m- my room is a mess-“ I look around and see the door still cracked a little bit. “Not- not looking! Just wanted you to know it’s me!” They say, laughing softly… I sigh again… their laugh- FIX YOUR ROOM AND YOURSELF GET IT TOGETHER.

I run to the full body mirror and fix myself up. Taming my bedhead, adjusting my sleeping shirt and shorts, making sure I look normal but also… maybe a tiny little bit cute. I fix up the random clutter on the floor and spray a little bit of cologne everywhere.

I get to the door and put my hand on my heart to sorta calm down. Okay… one.. two.. three and-

There is no denying how stupidly in love I looked the moment I opened the door to see them in their feminine. Eyes softened, lips in a content smile, and sighing dreamily. “Hi~” I breathed out, still swooning. They dont help my case at all when they smirk and look at me in a similar manner. “Hi…” they trail off, blinking a few times before getting both of us out of our trance.

“Sorry for uhh the whole emotion wafting off of me. Still learning how to control it.” I laugh awkwardly. They wave their hand in a ‘nah dont worry’ motion, “Y/n you know I dont mind that at all. We’re all learning.” We both smile briefly, “so, whatcha doing here?” I open the door wider and sit on my bed. They enter, closing the door behind them, and sit next to me. “I uhh honestly…” I wasn’t looking at them, too busy fiddling with my hands, but I heard them change into their masculine form. “I was just around.. and wanted to hang with you…” ‘hang out.. with me?’ I thought before I looked at them.

They were.. already looking at me. A blush slowly crept up on my face as I internally panicked, replying to cover up my distress. “Uhh yeah sure, we could invite Cate for a girls time, or maybe have Emma ditch for I dont know-” I get cut off “why not just us?” They ask, shrugging nonchalantly. “Just us?” I repeat. “Y’know… just Y/n and Jordan. Just us.” Their gaze is turned away for some reason.. “I MEAN- if you don’t want to then yeah of course Kate could come arou-” they began to ramble but I touch their hand gently, focusing on calming their emotions down.

“I would like that” I smile. “Yeah..? Like a date right that’s what I’m trying to invite you to” they clarify, their emotions wafting to me… infatuation, swooning, happiness… ‘they’re happy…’. I smile and nod happily.

They stand up and offer their hand, then an uncertainty surfaces on their face. “Uhm… do you want feminine or masculine..?” They ask still in their masculine form. “Are you shitting me? How many times do I have to say this. Anything is fine as long as it’s what you want and what you feel like.” I smile up at them and stand from the bed to give them a quick hug. I hear them changing into their feminine form/nothing change as they decide to remain in their masculine form and push them to face away from me. I smile, feeling more comfortable with them again, dropping the whole “in love with you” deal and being my authentic self.

“Now don’t fucking peak, lemme just change clothes.” I said as I looked at my closet. “Where’re we going again?”

Jordan’s POV

‘I cannot fucking believe they said yes- I mean I know Kate said they liked me but I was still unsure-‘ “Jordan!!! Helloooo?” I’m snapped out of my thoughts when Y/n shakes me from behind. “Earth to Jordannn, where are you taking meeeeee.” I chuckle at their antics, “just dress casual, we aren’t going to the fucking gala or something.” I laugh and I hear shuffling behind me. Tempted… I turn slowly- “not a fucking peep Jordan Li.” They say sternly. I laugh and put my hands up in defense “alright alright.”

Moments pass and I feel two taps on my shoulder. I turn and smile at them. Wearing such comfy yet cute clothes to our first date. Our first date. Damn.

Reader’s POV

Walking around with Jordan Li was normal. We would do this from time to time whenever stress got to us. But this was different. This was a fucking date. Like, hand brushing against each other, got coffee or tea kinda fucking date.

We decided to walk around campus, much to the distaste of Jordan. “You are sooo fucking lucky I put up with your goody-two-shoes behavior” they tell me, squinting playfully at me. “I am very lucky thank you.” I respond to spite them. They smile and shake their head.

We walk in comforting silence. It’s so strange how the context of a walk can change the whole way it feels. Normally we would just walk casually and we would talk about anything and everything. Shoving each other, being just friends. But now… it feels so… pure? I guess… like puppy love. Jordan taking glances at me and I would do the same. Whenever we meet eyes they’d chuckle as I look away shyly. They’re just… too sweet.

“Are you enjoying?”

I look up in surprise, not realizing we had stopped walking. “Yeah of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked, worried I had done something wrong. “Just making sure, that’s all. Cause I wouldn’t want to be the only one enjoying our date” they smile at me sweetly. A worry forms in my stomach when my brain starts to go on hyperdrive. They aren’t… joking about this right…? My walls start building as I worry that Jordan was just put up to this for a stupid fucking prank.

Jordan takes my hand in worry, shifting to their masculine form. A tendency they did when they were worried about me. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did I say something?” I pull my hand back slowly. “You aren’t.. doing this for a dare right.. cause- cause I know I’m not that good at hiding my crushes but if this was a fucking joke I swear-” I’m suddenly silenced as they pull me in close for a hug. “I know Y/n. If it’s a joke, you swear you’ll make me miserable for the rest of my life.” Their chest rumbles as they chuckle. “It’s not a joke… the only thing I had help with was ask Cate to make me go to your dorm and ask you out blatantly.”

I step back a little, “you what?” I laugh incredulously. “Listen! I keep hearing rumors that you like me but I never saw it! Cate always told me that I was Super-”

“Blind?” I finish their sentence. “Yeah, Emma told me the same thing” I shake my head and laugh in disbelief. “So… you do like me?” They ask, as they lift my chin to look into their eyes. My breath hitches and I nod quietly. “Good.. cause.. I like you too… maybe.. even more than like.” They smile and shift back to their feminine form, something they did.. when they felt comfortable with me.

Their hand on my chin slowly travelled to my cheek and soothingly rubbed it with their thumb. The blush from earlier creeps up again and I silently plead that Jordan can’t feel my face slowly heat up. They chuckle, “I never realized how cute you looked whenever you blush…” the warmth blooms past my cheeks and into my chest as the butterflies flutter more intensely. “Y/n..?” Jordan asks softly, their eyes not even trying to hide the fact that they’re looking at my lips. “Yes..?” I reply just as softly.

“Can I.. kiss you?” I stop functioning the moment they stop talking. Unable to speak I do one slow and obvious nod to say yes. “Thank you” they smile and lean in lips barely touching, as if telling me that if I wanted to back out now, now is the time. But fuck that I’m getting that kiss.

I smile and kiss them deeply, tiptoeing a little bit to wrap my arms around their neck. The smile on our lips palpable and our emotions mixing with one another as pure happiness exudes from the both of us.

We part after a moment, smiling widely. They chuckle softly. “What’s so funny? Was my breath bad- did I hit your teeth? What is it what?!” I panicked.

“Nothing nothing!” They laugh, “Just… you’re so cute… I couldn’t stop feeling your butterflies wafting off of you ever since we started the date. And well.. every time you see me.”

“And you didn’t tell me?!” I gasped and hit them playfully, they shift to their masculine form and held my hands together in front of me. “I didn’t tell you because…how could I tell the cutest person in the world,” they lean in and kiss me gently once more and whisper, “that even their emotions are cute?”

This person will be the end of me… and I love it.

—————————————————————————

EEEE I’m so glad I got to finish this cksndjsz my brain cannot for the love of me stop thinking about Jordan. THEY’RE JUST SO CISJDJSZJ C U T E.

Anyways, feel free to give comments on how I can improve ! And ofc I hope you enjoyed ♡

Edit: holy f u c k- Im v surprised this is getting 300 notes 😭 im very glad people are enjoying !! College is just biting my ass but I’m writing other fics from other fandoms!

Take care always!

[lilmaymayy]

this is genuinely my favorite pic of him, HIS HAIR THE DOG HIS ARMS😫😫😫

[doodlesdreaming]

"Eye of the Storm"

Aogami/Protag One-shot.

[sacredcyber]

I Think I Like When It Rains

A soft smutty SilverV oneshot, 3k words. A/n: fem V from a corpo background, nsfw.

The long trek towards her northside apartment was unusually silent and painfully dull. Normally Johnny's comments would be firing at a rapid pace. When can they start looking for Alt? Let him take control just for an evening, take a smoke break. Instead she found herself walking through night city alone, in the rain, shooting off random questions hoping it’d rouse him from whatever recess of her mind he’d hidden himself in. Nothing. No answers at all, not even a huff of frustration.

‘It’s fine.’ She thinks to herself. ‘It’ll be like that when he’s gone.’ And that thought brings out a burn in her throat. Something pained and sharp has burrowed itself in her chest and made itself home. V stops short at the corner about a block away, she leans against a light post and sighs.

‘You’re being weird again.’

It’s her voice but it’s not. The sudden realization dawns on her that Johnny could read her thoughts. It makes her feel exposed. She quickly runs the block home in the downpour, the rain soaking through her too big tank top and leather pants.

After fidgeting with the broken card reader, V stumbles inside her small apartment. The pink neon lighting and blue beaded curtains make it feel so homey, so lived in. She remembered the day she bought it, Johnny berated her about her lack of taste. V wanted to tell him about her luxury condo she had to give up when she got sacked, but a sudden wave of shame had washed over her and she simply answered with a small hum in agreement. Arasaka seems like a lifetime ago. Another life, another person, another V. Her Watson home was too painful to stay in after Jackie died, the memories of the both of them shooting the shit, Misty coming by after her shift with tacos and yakitori were all things of the past. The northside apartment had become like a sanctuary, she could be at peace here in this small shoebox of a room.

Just her, Nibbles and her tapeworm.

As she crosses the threshold, a friendly meow greets her. Nibbles jumps off the arcade cabinet and rolls on her back exposing her equally bald tummy. V chuckles and closes the door behind her, as she bends down to bless the feline with a generous scratch behind her ears, she can hear the familiar sound of Johnny’s static reappearing.

He groans and makes his way over towards the armory. V pretends not to notice him, not to be excited he’s left whatever shell he was in earlier. Instead she fishes out a pack of cat food for nibbles and walks over towards a small porcelain bowl.

Johnny immediately moves away and heads over to the bed, she watches him out of the corner of her eye. He’s a bit tense, wound up. As if he could sense her questioning gaze he simply lights up a cigarette. “I’m tired.”

“You’re tired?” V asks incredulously. Johnny’s static form stutters a bit as he shifts himself onto her small bed. “Well actually you’re tired. I’m just feeling it too.” He mumbles. V makes a face, this fucking guy. “I thought engrams don’t need to sleep?” She stands and walks over towards him, his legs planted firmly on the linoleum floor. A heavy sigh escapes his lips. “You really gonna fight me over this? Fuck V...” The bite he normally has in his voice is mostly gone, Johnny sounds exhausted, miserable. She sighs, the day's events hadn’t been easy on them, the sudden rainstorm plus the non working fast travel pods around the city only added to her frustration. If only her car wasn’t in the shop, she could have just driven home.

Nope, it was just her trudging through the rain. Now she’s home, dripping wet and muscles aching. V sighs, there’s no fight in her, hell she’s not even hungry. All she wants is a hot shower and sleep. “You can sleep with me tonight.” She mumbles. Johnny looks up as V begins to turn away, “ I know you don’t need to but…”

“But what?” He asks, ready to tease her. “Someone’s eager to get me into bed.” He observes her as she slips her boots off.

“You seem…I don’t know…off? Quiet maybe.” She says before disappearing into the bathroom. Johnny scoffs, before he knows it he’s in the bathroom ready to argue.

“As if I-“ he begins before he stops himself. V stands topless in front of the shower, her wet samurai top already on the ground, her hands on her pants zipper. She raises an eyebrow. “What? Never seen tits before?” She turns around and begins to remove her pants, Johnny knows he should fuck off right now, give her some kind of privacy. But something’s compelling him to stay, see what happens, V doesn’t seem to mind it.

“Wasn’t expecting to see yours.” He chuckles. “Didn’t know my little corpo rat was an exhibitionist is all.” V turns the shower on trying not to focus on the “my little corpo rat” comment, he notices the way her breasts jiggle a bit, they’re bigger than he’s used to, Johnnys always had a penchant for petite women, V’s musculature had been a bit of a turn off for him, recently he’s been rethinking that.

She turns to face him and something in Johnny’s chest tightens. She’s bare, with nothing but his tags on. Something about that does it for him, maybe it’s her lack of aggression or just how intimate it feels. “Not gonna take those off too?” He lifts his cybernetic hand and places his fingertip onto the tag, V can feel slight pressure there. She cocks her head a bit, “I’ve never taken them off.” She says following his wandering hand as it travels from the tags to her navel. She can feel him and she doesn’t know how or why, but she doesn’t want to think about it. She doesn’t want to ruin it.

V makes a motion with her hand, “You coming in?” Johnny is a bit stunned, he’s not used to V being so nonchalant about contact. Normally she’s very cagey about him being near her. He doesn’t blame her, especially since their meeting was terrible. He’s conflicted, but the need for touch is overwhelming. “You want me to?” He asks, hesitation sprinkles his words. V nods. ‘Yes’ she thinks and so he follows.

V stands under the hot shower, the steam feels so comforting, like a warm blanket hugging her. As she stretches she can feel her back bump into something solid. As she reaches back Johnny catches her hand, his ganic hand gently caresses hers. She hesitates but turns to face him, he’s there naked as the day he was born, only with the addition of that familiar blue static. She studies him, he’s definitely handsome, not that she wanted to admit that but something about his little grin tells her he already knows that. Her eyes wander from his dark brown eyes to his sloped nose down to his happy trail, she lifts her head to face him, not wanting to focus on the obvious.

“You look like you got questions.” He murmurs. V looks for her shampoo. “Can you feel the water?” He nods. “Yeah, feels nice, I guess it feels nice to you.” He moves to stand under the shower head, it merely goes through him but V supposes it adds to the experience.

She grabs the coconut shampoo and begins to work up a lather. Her back is towards him, “Where did you go?” She asked. Johnny notices a slight hitch in her voice, he watches as she scrubs her scalp. He steps in and replaces her hands with his, lightly massaging the product into her hair. “Can’t exactly go anywhere…” he avoids the question. V steps under the shower head, her back pressed against Johnny's chest. He watches as the shampoo runs over her breasts down her toned stomach. His hands move from her scalp to the sides of her waist, before he grabs her and presses her firmly against him, his mouth pressed against her ear.

V presses harder against him, he feels so real, so solid against her skin. The only difference is the lingering fuzziness he gives off, maybe it’s the static. “You…didn’t answer my question.” She manages to mumble out, Johnny simply hums “I’m here now.” His metal hand traces down from her collarbone in between her breasts. V wants to prod him, demand he tell her why he left her alone with her thoughts but his touches are so reverent, so gentle.

“I was angry.”

She turns to face him, Johnny’s brown eyes scan her face, he looks vulnerable, soft, uncomfortable. She grabs his ganic hand and presses her face against it, his thumb strokes her cheek. “Did I do something?” He simply shakes his head, everything pisses Johnny off to some extent. The shitty weather, his PTSD, the way Fuckin’ Takemura and River give her those looks when she’s not paying attention. V used to piss him off too, her selflessness, the way she’d always get involved in shit that didn’t concern her, her kindness. Her ability to just give parts of herself to anyone in need.

Now he’s before her, a starved man seeking it out for himself. He hesitates and leans down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. V slowly allows herself to be soft, to be open for him. Love isn’t something you come across in Night City, it’s something you buy for an hour or two. But this isn’t that, this is something else, something that’s needed by both of them.

His kisses are rough, they’re desperate for dominance, to lay a claim on her. She can feel how needy he is, the way his hands press into her bruised back, how his fingers find those sore spots and rub into them. V lets out small pained cries, as she opens her mouth Johnny simply probes deeper. He wants all her sounds and cries, all of them. The good and the bad.

“V…” he whispers, her bitten lips skimming over his down to his neck, she bites into him like forbidden fruit and such as original sin she knows she’s crossed over into temptation. That pained thing that burrowed into her earlier is now growing between her ribs and it flutters so gently she can barely breathe.

How strange.

Johnny grabs V’s face and pulls it to meet his gaze. He wants to see her, needs to see her face when he’s worshiping her. Her eyes are hazed over, glazed in want and desperate for release. He plants more swollen kisses on her lips. “Let’s go to bed.” He whispers hungrily. V turns off the shower and grabs a towel. “Let’s go to bed?” She begins to towel herself off. Johnny simply grins and reappears sitting on the bed, he can see her though the beaded curtains and even though he’s mapped out her curves and scars with his fingers it’s still exciting to see only bits of her behind the blue plastic beads. Like a private show meant only for him, something no one else can have.

Because how could they? No one knows her like he does, no one ever could.

V emerges from the bathroom, her hips sway a bit as she closes in on Johnny’s personal space. “Sit on the bed.” He whispers in that whiskey’d tone. She does as instructed and immediately he appears on the floor in front of her, kneeling. Johnny’s not used to being subservient, but it feels so natural with V, so easy. Like he doesn’t have to be that “rowdy asshole rockerboy” everyone wanted. He’s simply Johnny, touch starved, pent up, needy Johnny.

He slowly trails his fingers over V’s thighs, it makes her shiver under his touch. “Know how frustrating it is watching you play nice with a pig and a corpo dog?” His tone is dangerous with a veneer of playfulness. V raises herself up on her elbows, she watches as Johnny kneads her inner thighs.

“Has Johnny Silverhand always been the jealous type?”

He chuckles, “Possessive might be the better word.” He spreads her legs out further and places a wet kiss on her clit. Her hips buck into his face a bit. “Fuck…” she gasps out. Johnny chuckles “Not yet, I wanna have some fun first.”

His ganic fingers circle her entrance, she’s already wet and dewy but he’s never been one to half ass eating someone out. He doesn’t want to rush anything. “Thinkin’ real hard down there, silverhand?” V’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. Her half lidded stare and the way she runs her fingers through his tangled hair makes him feel alive again.

“I need you to ride my face.” Before V can protest or tease, Johnny’s already teleported under her. He’s taken the liberty to spread her legs as she precariously balances over his face. She holds on to the wall in front of her. “I-I’ve never done thi-“ Johnny licks a swipe over her clit and she shudders.

“Just relax.” He says as plants a tender kiss on her entrance. “Don’t think, just do.” He presses her wet cunt onto his lips as he moves her hips in rhythm. V holds onto the wall in front of her trying to set a pace for herself, worried she might hurt him.

‘You won’t, trust me. Ride my fuckin face like a cowgirl.’

Before she can even ask what the hell that means, his tongue makes its way inside her. “Oh fuck yes…” she moans as her hips move against him, her clit brushing up against his nose and moustache. Johnny holds her down even tighter against his face, sucking and tongue fucking his way through his host. He wants to make her see stars, to become so undone by his mouth alone that even after death, she’s ruined by him.

“Johnny…john- I’m gonna…” her hips swivel in that familiar way, her pussy tightens around his tongue, she’s looking for it, searching for release. He removes his tongue and replaces it with his fingers relentlessly pounding into her. “Come on V just let it go baby…” he holds her hips and presses his lips onto her stomach as she fucks herself above him. “Goddamn…fuck yes yessss…” she sighs as her climax washes over her.

V wobbles a bit as her legs give out on her. Thankfully Johnny teleports and reappears to help steady herself. She’s on the precipice of sleep, yet it doesn’t stop her from trying to crawl into his lap. He laughs a bit “what are you doin’?” V presses up against him, his cock nestled between her puffy lips.

“I wanna sleep on you like this.” She moves her hips and positions his cock at her entrance. Johnny watches as V slides herself on his thick cock, his girth makes it sting so deliciously. Johnny grins and lays back in bed with V content and filled on his chest. He spreads her legs out over him and slowly fucks into her. He throbs with each stroke.

“This how you want me inside you every night?” He asks, his lips hovering over her ear as he caresses her sore lower back with his metal hand. “Get home from running around this city? Fixing everyone’s fuckin’ problems…” He whispers in her ear as he continues to slowly pump himself inside her. Agonizingly slow.

“That’s what you want right? You want someone to take care of you too.” He grips her hips and plunges himself deep into her core. V calls out for him, begging him to go faster but he relents. “Nah, I wanna savor this, wanna make sure it only fits me from now on.” He bites her harshly and with intent. Savoring the wet sounds they share between them.

“How do you think people would feel? Knowin’ Night City’s golden girl is getting dicked down by the dirty old man living in her head?” He punctuates his question with another harsh thrust. V mewls against him and sobs “t-they wouldn’t….get it!” His pace begins to pick up as he holds her down and fucks into her used hole.

“That’s right, they wouldn’t…but we get it, right baby?” His forehead touches hers as he continues to fuck into her.

“Y-yeah…”

“Yeah? Because we belong to each other. From the day I met you, you’ve been mine, all fuckin’ mine…” he grips her throat with his metal hand and keeps a brutal pace. It’s a strange feeling, the agony and ecstasy of relishing in unhinged coitus, of bearing your ugliness out on the same table you fuck your lover on. It’s liberating because he knows what she’s thinking. There’s no guessing games, he doesn’t feel any fear, no hesitation, just complete and utter synchronicity.

Johnny knows he’s needs it and fuck if V also needs this as well. So he fucks her hard into completion, into submission, into a promise. A silent accord, for as long as they have each other. To have and to hold, to fuck and to kill, however the hell people pledge themselves to each other in this day and age. His very soul belongs to her.

The silence between them is comforting, only the sounds of rain drizzling outside and nibbles playing with the beaded curtains next to the minibar. V slides over to lay on his ganic arm, his heartbeat, his warmth, feels real. She shuts her eyes tight and holds onto him for dear life, as if he’d disappear if she let him go.

A whisper floats through her mind, “I’m not going anywhere.” He promises. He can feel her smile and press herself closer to him, less out of fear and more out of need. He lays and watches the ceiling fade from view, letting sleep take him for the first time in over 50 years.