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“Shit—Stop moving, baby, I’m trying to—” Rafe groaned in your ear, one of his hands moving from the warm sand to grab your hip, lifting it up as his pelvis pressed against your ass.
You knew it was bad to have sexual activity on the beach; anyone could see you, walk by, call the cops. But when Rafe pulled you away from the party to a more private area, you couldn’t stop yourself anymore. You had thought about it through all the party, even when laughing and talking to your friends.
But now, hidden by rocks and moans muffled by the sound of waves crashing close, it didn’t matter anymore. Rafe hadn’t lost any time when taking your mini-dress off, leaving your bikini on just because it turned him on. He made you lay your stomach against the sand, grain sticking to your slightly humid skin, and just pulled your panties to the side as he laid on top of you, prone bone style.
Rafe pulled his swimming shorts down enough to free his hard, leaking cock. The tip was angry red, begging for attention, slit glistening with pre-cum. He groaned, pumping himself once or twice before wrapping his hand around the base.
His blue eyes lowered to your wet pussy, the thought of him fucking you here had aroused you more than you wanted to admit. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty like that. Fuck, if you could see yourself.” Rafe cursed and you sighed, pushing your hips backwards to feel him. He rubbed his bulbous head against your slick folds, parting them just to gather wetness onto his tip. “Rafe, please—” You whined at him, then.
But instead of listening to you, he slapped his hard cock against your cunt, creating skin-slapping-skin noises that were eaten by the ocean. You gasped each time his cock slapped back against your folds and clit, squirming under him due to the feeling. Rafe’s free hand moved to your ass, squeezing a cheek in his strong palm just to push it to the side, giving him a better view of your pussy.
“M’going in now, okay? Going to fill that pussy up.” He said and you didn’t have time to reply before feeling his tip press against your slick hole, giving the muscles a push before entering you. “Fuck! Ah, yeah… S’good.” You hummed, your hands moving into the sand, mindlessly playing with it. Rafe hissed as his cock slowly pushed inside you, stretching your gummy walls apart.
You relaxed your body for him to go deeper until he couldn’t reach more, his tip almost kissing your cervix. You gasped, eyebrows furrowing in a mix of uncomfortable and pleasure. Rafe waited for you to get used to the intrusion before he lowered his upper body to press against yours; his torso and your back meeting.
“Y’feel so good, baby. You’re squeezing my cock so good.” He groaned in your ear. His arms moved to rest in the sand near your face.
His cock throbbed inside you, pressing against your slick walls and making you pulsate. “Rafe, please, move now…” You said, fist closing and relaxing a few times. Your boyfriend hummed, his head coming closer to yours just so he could move his arms under yours and his hands moved to your chest. You felt the fabric of your bikini top being pushed to the side, the two triangles not hiding your tits anymore. “Let me see you. You’re too pretty. You couldn’t even wait home for us to fuck, uh?”
You didn’t reply but gasped when Rafe pushed his hips away and back against yours, how cock sliding back and forth. His pace was slow at first but he did go deep. His warm palms groped your chest, squeezing the fat of your tits, fingers rolling around your perky nipples. His breathing hit onto the skin of your neck, giving you goosebumps.
He was so close that you could smell his perfume; mango, vanilla and a hint of cigarette from the ones he smoked. The sensation of the sun hitting down on your skin, the sand sticking to your humid body and how Rafe was fucking you was almost too much for your brain to keep up, but your boyfriend had a way to tether you to Earth. “Speak to me, baby, feels good, uh? Knowing anyone could see us right now? Walk by to see me fuck you into the sand?”
His words made you moan, not afraid of the volume of your voice with the waves hiding it. Rafe’s cock slid inside you, his mushroom tip rubbing against your g-spot due to the prone bone position he had you in. Your thighs shook, hips pushing backwards to feel more of him. Your inner-thighs were a mess—juices coating the skin, making sand stick there.
“Please, fuck, it feels so good… Rafe, keep going.” You replied to him, your head rolled backwards which gave him the opportunity to kiss your neck. He groaned while picking up the pace, your body melting into the ground with the force of his hips.
A gasp left your mouth as your boyfriend’s fingers kept rolling around your hardened nipples, and then, he decided to pinch them. Your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. “Oh God, yes! I love that—Do it again!” You voiced at Rafe and you heard a chuckle leave his mouth.
Another pinch, another gasp. “You like that, baby? Like me taking care of you?” He said, his pelvis slapping against your ass as he fucked you both harder and faster.
Your brain had muffled all background noises since the sexual activity started, but you could clearly hear the music from the party happening not far away and the laughter of your friends who were probably under alcohol substances.
A rather hard thrust made you break out of your thoughts, crying out Rafe’s name when he rutted his hips against your ass, creating loud skin-slapping-skin that mixed with the squelching of your wet pussy. The hands you had in the sand moved to grab at Rafe’s biceps, nails burying inside his strong muscles. He hissed, another chuckle leaving him. “That’s it, baby. Show me how much you like when I fuck that pussy. You love it, don’t you? Such a good girl.”
You moaned, nodding your head without an answer to give. Your boyfriend’s fingers pinched your nipples again, tugging on them just to roll the bud with his fingers.
“Please! P-Please! I love it so much, Rafe!” You voiced, tits bouncing against the sand due to the force of his thrusts. You could feel the warmth coursing through your body, that inevitable sensation of an orgasm showing the tip of its nose. The grip you had over Rafe’s biceps tightened which made him hiss quietly into your ear. “Coming! I need to come!” You added, mouth wide open.
Rafe’s balls slapped against your ass as he took more support on his knees after your words, his hands moving away from your tits just to press flat against the sand. He groaned, head falling against your shoulders.
“I know baby, I know. Come for me, yeah? Be a good girl, I know you are.” He said, making your ass bounce with the force of his thrusts. His bulbous tip rubbed against your g-spot and you could only cry out when the orgasm took over your body.
“Yes, fuck! Coming!” You gasped at your boyfriend, eyes wide. Muscles contracted, body squirmed, toes curled.
Rafe’s cursed as your gummy walls clenched around his cock, your juices coating his length and sticking to his base and balls. He only needed a few more thrusts to bury himself all the way inside you, shooting his creamy, thick load into your pussy. A raw moan left his throat as he came, sweaty forehead shifting to your nape. “Fuck… Fuck, she squeezed me so good I couldn’t stop myself.” He spoke after a moment.
You both stayed in that position for what seemed like hours (even if it was only seconds) before Rafe slowly pulled out of your sloppy hole. Semen leaked out immediately, thick globs disappearing in the sand before your boyfriend helped you up on your feet.
Rafe had a smile on his face, one that usually meant trouble and after what you had both done, you didn’t even question it. “Want to get cleaned up in the water?” He just asked, one hand lifting to brush sand away from your sweaty cheek. You bent to grab your dress before nodding your head at his question.
“Yeah, I don’t want to go back to the party all sweaty and smelling like sex.”
Rafe didn’t reply but suddenly grabbed you by the waist, throwing you on his shoulder before walking toward the water. You laughed loudly, slapping his back. “Get me down, you asshole! I don’t want to ruin my hair!”
“Nah, don’t care. Should have thought about that before letting me fuck you in the sand.”
Professor Sam always notices when you arrive a few minutes early. At first you sit in the third row, then the second, and eventually the front in the short notice of weeks. He pretends he doesn't notice the pattern, but he starts looking for you the moment he walks into the lecture hall.
He keeps office hours ridiculously late because he knows students have jobs and busy schedules. Somehow, your questions always end up turning into hour-long conversations about history, books, and life when you stay in his office even when you should be home.
Sam starts recommending books that might interest you. Every recommendation has little sticky notes tucked inside with comments like, “Read chapter six, you'll like this argument.”
Professor Sam is painfully aware of professional boundaries but he just can't stop myself from getting you coffee early in the morning, driving you back home after a long day or smile at you when you disagree about his class. He looks out for you, lets his eyes follow you, thinking about you more than he should.
Sam hates himself the moment he realizes his feelings have become something more: one innocent smile from you after class lingers in his mind far longer than it should, and he spends the entire drive home trying to force himself to think about anything else. He starts avoiding being alone with you, keeps office-hour conversations painfully short, and refuses to meet your eyes for too long because every stolen glance feels like another failure of the standards he's spent his whole career trying to uphold.
He spends the semester convincing himself you're just another student… until it's not working anymore and he suddenly doesn't know what excuse he has to avoid you; you're always in his office, trying to talk about books and mythology and he think you might feel the same as he does.
Sam kisses you like he's been holding himself back for months—which, in truth, he has. The first kiss is slow, hesitant, almost questioning, until you smile against his lips and all that restraint melts into something impossibly tender; the professionalism is gone out of the window.
He becomes quietly affectionate in private: his hand settles naturally on your waist when you pass beside him in hallways, he'll brush a kiss against your forehead while you're visiting his office, and if you sit on his desk, he'll step between your knees without thinking, smiling every time you loop your arms around his neck.
He absolutely melts when you steal one of his sweaters: seeing the sleeves hanging over your hands does something to him he can't quite explain, and he has to look away for a second just to gather himself.
But Professor Sam isn't just a gentleman, no. He tells you to be quiet when you cockwarm him while he grades paper, slapping your cunt when you make too many noises and press kisses to your neck to reward you when you clench around his shaft.
He loves fucking you on his desk or in his class room when everyone is gone; he can make you come as much as he wants. Seeing you drool on the wooden desk makes him so fucking hard, and he often thinks about it as he teach History.
Sam makes you call him Sir and Professor while he has you folded on his desk, looking at the way his cock disappears inside your sloppy hole. “You like it, uh? You like having your professor's cock inside you, baby?” He'd tell you, caressing your face gently, on contrary of his crude words.
Having you suck his cock while he's in the middle of a zoom meeting, needing to keep his moans to himself or he will automaticy get fired and probably sued. The thrill makes him come so fast and so much in your mouth, filling it up with his thick semen. You want him to be proud, so you swallow it all. Sam pats your head under the desk, throwing a quick but soft smile at you.
Sex with Professor Sam is good, but it's more than just that. He's more than just an older, experienced man to you. You love him and you know he loves you too, no matter how secret your relationship is. Sam often feels guilty about it, some small part of him always worries people will assume he took advantage of his position but you know the truth.
summary ﹏ When you excitedly ramble about your newest hyperfixation, Garrett quietly proves he's been listening to every single word; even while hopelessly admiring the way your face lights up when you speak. He realizes how much he loves when you speak about the things you like.
Not because he understood every niche hyperfixations you picked up over the time (or the ones you had due to tv shows, movies, new books) and neither because he shared every one of your interests (although he'd certainly try if it made you smile) but because there was something about watching you talk that made the rest of the world fall away.
Whenever you became passionate about something, your voice changed first; it grew brighter, quicker, words tumbling over one another as if your excitement couldn't wait for your mouth to catch up. Your hands came alive, painting invisible pictures in the air, your eyes lit with an enthusiasm that was impossible to fake.
Garrett had fallen in love with you long before he'd realized it, but moments like these reminded him why he kept falling anyway.
The afternoon had settled into one of those quiet stretches neither of you ever seemed to question. Rain drummed gently against the dorm window, muffling the sounds of students wandering the hallway outside, while your room carried the familiar scent of coffee, laundry detergent, and the vanilla candle you always insisted made the place feel less like a dorm.
You sat cross-legged on your bed with a notebook balanced on your lap, eagerly explaining the newest interest you'd thrown yourself into. Garrett had abandoned his bag on the chair at your desk almost immediately after arriving and stretched out beside you instead, one arm draped lazily across the mattress while he laid on his side, facing you.
“...And that's why everyone gets that part wrong,” you explained, flipping to another page covered in hastily scribbled notes. “They're looking at it from the wrong perspective. If you actually compare these two—”
Garrett nodded thoughtfully before you had even finished your sentence. “That actually makes a lot of sense.”
“It does, right?” you said, grinning.
“It really does.” He voiced back, eyes all fond when looking at you.
You continued without hesitation, delighted that he was following along. Garrett asked the occasional question—not enough to interrupt your train of thought, but enough to keep you going. Sometimes he repeated something you'd said in his own words just to make sure he'd understood correctly, and every time he did, you smiled a little wider. He liked seeing that smile; maybe a little too much.
As you launched into another explanation, Garrett found himself studying you almost without meaning to. You were still talking, still enthusiastically connecting ideas with quick gestures of your hands, but his attention drifted between your words and everything else about you like the tiny crease that appeared between your brows whenever you were concentrating, the way your nose wrinkled for half a second when you disagreed with your own point before correcting it or the little laugh you gave yourself whenever you realized you'd skipped ahead in your explanation.
It wasn't that he had stopped listening, quite the opposite. Somehow, listening to you and looking at you had become the same thing. “Garrett?” You called him back to the living world. “Hm?” He blinked at you, surprised for a second.
“You've been awfully quiet.” He blinked once again, before smiling. “Sorry baby, I was listening.” You tilted your head, amused. “You sure about that?”
“Very.”
“What did I just say?” Without hesitation, he answered, “You said people misunderstand it because they're treating those two events separately instead of looking at how they influence each other. You think that's why the conclusion everyone reaches feels incomplete.”
You stared at him for a moment before laughing. “Okay. You were listening, I believe you now.”
“I told you, didn’t I?”
“I just…” You smiled sheepishly. “You had this look on your face.”
“What look?”
“I don't know.” You gestured vaguely toward him. “You looked... somewhere else, Like I look, sometimes.” Garrett chuckled under his breath, his body shifting on the bed which made it creak very quietly. “I probably was.”
“I knew it.”
“But not because I wasn't listening.” You looked at him expectantly, waiting for the rest. He reached over almost absentmindedly, brushing hair away from your forehead before letting his fingers linger lightly against your temple. “I was listening to every word.”
“You just got distracted?” You asked again, tilting your head to the side all while looking at his face and the fond expression he had on. “A little.”
“By what?” His smile softened into something quieter at your question. “By how happy you are.” You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” His thumb stroked gently along the side of your head before slipping into your hair, absentmindedly combing through the locks. “You always get this smile when you're talking about something you love, and sometimes you don't even realize you're smiling.” You instinctively touched your own face. “I do?” You can’t help but ask, surprised and full of curiosity.
“Mhm.” He continued threading his fingers through your hair slowly, almost absentmindedly now, and watched your shoulders relax beneath the touch.
“You smile before you've even finished explaining your point and then your eyes get all bright because you're already thinking about the next thing you want to tell me.” You laughed quietly, a little embarrassed at the explanation, realizing how much he had focused on you to see all of that.
“I didn't know you noticed all that.” You whispered then, and he smiled at the words before replying. “I notice everything.” The words came so naturally that Garrett didn't even seem to realize how intimate they sounded until your expression softened. “You really do, don't you?” He nodded once, his head tilting to the side to look at you with a new angle, trying to memorize all of your features. “I love hearing you talk.” Your whole face warmed and so did your stomach; butterflies flying inside.
“Even when I ramble about my hyperfixations and interests?” You couldn’t help but ask. “Especially then.” Garrett nodded his head at the question. “You've listened to me explain this for…” You glanced toward the clock on your nightstand. “...Almost forty-five minutes.”
“I know.”
“You aren't bored?” He looked genuinely surprised by the question, like it didn’t came to his mind that he could have been bored. “No, baby, not at all.”
“You would've told me?” Your eyebrows furrowed but amusement appeared on your face, a bit like a childish expression and your boyfriend smiled at that before nodding. “I would've.” He said back to you.
“You promise?”
“I promise.” His hand paused long enough to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheekbone. “I don’t mind listening to you talk for hours,” he admitted quietly. “Whether it's something I already know or something I've never heard of before... I like hearing it because you're the one saying it.”
Your heart squeezed at his words; all the love he had inside of his body flowed around the room like a perfume you only were allowed to smell. “That's disgustingly sweet.” You laughed quietly at him and he chuckled back, rolling his eyes fondly. “I know.”
“No, seriously.”
“I know.”
A helpless smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “You realize that's probably the most romantic thing you've ever said to me.” Garrett's eyebrows lifted, looking genuinely unconvinced as he absentmindedly ran his fingers back through your hair. “Really? I think I've said more romantic things than that.” His body shifted and the bed creaked as he sat up in front of you, legs crossed to imitate your position.
“You absolutely haven't.” You laughed under your breath, leaning a little closer until your knees brushed. “Most of your flirting consists of calling me cute when I'm half asleep or stealing my fries and saying it counts as affection.”
“It does count as affection.” You scoffed at his answer, amused. “It absolutely does not.”
“It does if I'm the one doing it.”
You rolled your eyes fondly, unable to stop smiling now. “See? That's exactly what I mean. I think you've been confusing romance with flirting this entire relationship.” Garrett let out a quiet laugh, his thumb lightly scratching against your scalp before his hand drifted to the side of your face once more. “Do you have any defense at all for that?”
“I do.”
“Oh?”
His grin softened into something infinitely gentler as he looked at you for a long moment, his gaze warm enough to make your heart stumble. Then he leaned forward, slow enough that you could see exactly what he intended, and pressed a lingering kiss against your forehead before pulling back only far enough for your noses to nearly brush.
“I only flirt with one person,” he murmured. Your smile grew before you could stop it. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“And who would that be?”
“The one sitting on this bed with me.” His fingers found yours where they rested on the blanket, intertwining them with effortless familiarity. “The one who's been talking my ear off for the last forty-five minutes.” A quiet laugh escaped you, equal parts flustered and amused. “You are unbelievable.”
“So I've been told.” His grin widened just enough to show the smile you loved, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Usually by you.” His thumb lazily traced circles over the back of your hand while his eyes wandered across your face with the same tenderness you'd been trying to describe. “I like looking at you,” he admitted after a moment, when you thought the subject had changed. “I always have.”
You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
“You get this look whenever you're excited,” he continued quietly. “I think your brain goes super fast and you have a lot to tell me and you have no idea where you should start but I just love it.” Your heart skipped a beat inside your chest and you hummed, like telling him to keep talking. “So, yeah…” He let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh before meeting your eyes again. “I was looking at you.”
“Like I was the greatest thing in the world.”
His expression didn't change; if anything, it softened even more, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your knuckles as though he couldn't quite help touching you whenever you were close.
“You are, baby, that’s why.”
The answer was so immediate, so matter-of-fact, that it stole every clever response from your mind. Garrett didn't say it to flatter you or to make your heart race. He said it the same way someone might comment that the sky was blue or that it was raining outside: because, to him, it was simply true.
Garrett reached for your hand once more, lacing your fingers together before bringing your knuckles to his lips. His kiss was soft, lingering for only a moment before he rested your joined hands against his chest. “I don't have to choose,” he murmured. “I can listen to you and think you're beautiful and amazing at the same time.”
Your chest felt impossibly warm. “So you really heard everything? You’re sure-sure you were listening to me?” He grinned at the questions but he did understand where you were coming from; he did understand how important it was to you that he was listening. It wasn’t really about the talking, it was about being heard, being visible and seeing.
“You've got three main points, two theories you still aren't convinced about, and you think everyone's missing the obvious connection because they're focusing on the details instead of the bigger picture.”
You stared at him, because even if he had said that he was actively listening to you, you were sure he was exaggerating it a little. “I told you.” His thumb traced lazy circles across the back of your hand. “I was listening. I promised, didn’t I? What you say is important to me, baby.” A smile spread across your face before you leaned forward to steal a quick kiss from the corner of his mouth.
“I love you.” His expression immediately softened into that same hopelessly adoring look you'd caught earlier, one that never failed to make your stomach flutter.
“I know, and I love you too,” he said with a grin. “Now... tell me about that theory again.”
You laughed, settling comfortably against his shoulder while his fingers disappeared back into your hair. This time, when you started talking again, Garrett listened just as closely as before. He asked thoughtful questions, nodded at every explanation, and occasionally repeated your ideas back to you in a way that proved he was following every word.
Still, every so often, you'd catch him smiling at you with that unmistakable, lovestruck expression.
And every single time, you'd realize he hadn't missed a word. He simply thought that hearing you speak and watching you be yourself were two parts of the very same conversation.
ryland grace ﹏ ( ♡ ) soft and nice : ( ♡ ) reading you to bed : ( ♡ ) through space : ( ♡ ) gravity is lighter with you : ( ♡ ) the stars :
SPREE.
kurt kunkle ﹏ ( ★ ) smile for the camera : ( ★ ) car & handjob : ( ♡ ) steady relationship : ( ♡ ) for his birthday :
STRANGER THINGS.
steve harrington ﹏ ( ★ ) from behind : ( ★ ) fingering you : ( ★ ) eating you out :
SUPERNATURAL.
castiel ﹏ ( ♡ ) being with him :
dean winchester ﹏ ( ★ ) what i want : ( ♡ ) sneaky link!dean : ( ♡ ) does it still hurt? : ( ★ ) tits guy : ( ♡ ) little nightmare : ( ★ ) eating you out : ( ★ ) he's needy : ( ★ ) jerking off :
sam winchester ﹏ ( ★ ) mister munch : ( ♡ ) early years : ( ♡ ) x nerdy!reader : ( ♡ ) playing with your hair : ( ♡ ) rough day : ( ★ ) praising you : ( ★ ) with the tongue :
THE BEAR.
carmen berzatto ﹏ ( ♡ / ✷ ) nervous employee :
THE BOYS.
hughie campbell ﹏ ( ★ ) save a horse! :
soldier boy ﹏ ( ★ ) messy blowjob : ( ★ ) grind on me : ( ★ ) smell of weed :
THE PITT.
dennis whitaker ﹏ ( ★ ) submitting to you : ( ★ ) medical inspection : ( ♡ ) what are you up to? :
frank langdon ﹏ ( ★ ) baby boy : ( ✷ ) losing a patient : ( ♡ ) secret relationship : ( ♡ ) pathetic!frank : ( ★ ) sucking him off :
jack abbot ﹏ ( ★ ) deep inside : ( ♡ ) streamer!reader : ( ♡ ) streamer!reader 2 : ( ★ ) shut up and choke : ( ★ ) shower sex : ( ★ ) biting and blood : ( ★) the aftermath : ( ★ ) dirty-talking : ( ★ ) overstimulating you : ( ★ ) eating you out :
michael robinavitch ﹏ ( ★ ) praising you : ( ★ ) doggy-style : ( ★ ) dirty-talking :
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⠀ just thinking about dean winchester and how he’d pull your body closer in bed until he felt myself melting against you. he wants to speak, ask if you are alright after today, if you need a kiss or a hug but the way you just curl against him says it all. today was hell. today was shit and all you wish is to forget about it. and if dean can help with that, then it must be for greatest purpose.
he wraps an arm around your back to pull you even closer; so close that he can feel the heat of your skin from under your clothes. it’s comforting. it’s a reminder that you are here, that you are alive and well. a reminder that he can and will protect you until he can’t no more. he hesitates for a second; you have covered yourself in that thick silence that envelopes the room and he wants to break it. he wants to tell you how much he loves you, how important you are, how little he knows about himself when you are not around. because you are his world.
but he keeps silent, if only for a moment. because when he feels your head nuzzling into his neck and the little whine that leaves your mouth, dean can’t help it anymore. “shhh, it’s okay, baby. i’ve got you. i’ve got you, alright?” he whispers, his hand rubbing your back gently like he’d pet a cat. he longs to make you feel better, to remind you that shitty days exist but they aren’t forever.
“i’ll always be here f’you, you hear me? i’m not leaving, even if i get dragged down to hell, i’ll always find my way back to you.” he says, nuzzling his face into your hair and closing his eyes. it’s a promise he makes you; one he attends to keep forever. because he’ll always be by your side to keep the pretty smile on your face.
dean loves you, and that’s not going to change any time soon.
twin katanas strapped across her back. fingerless gloves stained with grease, ink, and dried blood. black combat boots. cheap-ass gas station chimichangas eaten cold at three in the morning. red heart-shaped sunglasses on her head. stickers on spider-man comic books. kpop songs blasting during fights. laughing at her own jokes and comments. appearing where she shouldn't be at the wrong time. wearing her mask instead of her whole suit. pot brownies.
giving the most ridicouls nickname to people. endless stream of sarcastic commentary even when no one's listening. lipstick kisses left on wanted posters. fourth-wall jokes that makes people question reality. impossible acrobatic flips followed immediately by tripping over nothing. stuffed unicorn keychains. accidentally saving people. bubblegum chewed through every life-threatening situation. impossible to embarrass.
deadpool!reader. . . is twice's biggest fan and won't hesitate to blast their the feels song during fights.
deadpool!reader. . . is a walking headache. no one knows whether she's technically a mercenary, an antihero, or just someone who keeps stumbling into world-ending events. she accepts jobs for money, refuses jobs that involve hurting true innocent people, and has somehow become a name whispered equally by criminals, heroes, and the people at her favorite taco truck. half of New York swears she's insane but the other half is too busy wondering how she survived getting hit by a truck yesterday.
deadpool!reader. . . has her appartment looking like chaos. katanas lean beside shelves overflowing with comic books, plushies wearing tiny superhero capes, stacks of vinyl records, motorcycle helmets covered in stickers, and fake flowers stuffed into empty bullet casings. don't even ask her how many weapons she's hiding in here.
deadpool!reader. . . is a softie at heart. she secrelty loves when people are worried about her getting killed, even though it's not happening any time soon.
deadpool!reader. . . is the avengers' unofficial problem. she accidentally interrupted them during a mission while jumping off of a building and instead of introducing herself like a normal person, she knocked off the villain they were chased and yelled, "don't worry, background characters! the protagonist is here!"
work for deadpool!reader . . . incoming.
꒰ best paired with . . . any characters in the tags.
“Fuck, fuck… M’gonna come, please… Let me come!” Dex cried out to you—he couldn’t even tell how many minutes had passed, how many hours since you started bouncing up and down on his cock.
All he knew was that the bedsheets were stuck to his skin due to sweat, that tears had started rolling from the corners of his eyes, that drool had slowly trickled down from his mouth due to the intense pleasure he felt. All of this had started with teasing; him betting that he would never submit to you (even though he had done it countless times before) and that he would never beg for release. But he did, and he did so prettily.
You were the devil, if Dex had to describe you in that moment: you had denied him so many orgasms, overstimulated his cock before ruining all releases he had dreamed of. And it didn't feel like you were about to stop any time soon.
“Oh? You’re about to come, is that it? You want to come, Dex?” You teased the man that was laying beneath your body, the man that was tied up to the bed, the man that was squirming and whining.
Your sloppy cunt lowered all the way down to his base, soaking him in your juices before stopping all movements. Dex groaned, head rolling onto the pillow as he realized you weren’t going to give him what he wanted, once again. His thighs shook under your body, hands tugging on his restraints but most importantly, his cock twitched inside your warm hole. His lips opened wide, drool leaking from his mouth and toward his cheek. You moved one hand to wipe it off, caressing his scar at the same time.
“I heard someone wanted to come, here? Who’s that?” You teased, voice full of mockery as Dex’s body shook, his insides all warm and burning up at the fact that another orgasm was ruined by you. His balls contracted and relaxed a few times, the veins all along his length throbbed against your velvety walls. It was nothing but torture to him; to feel you so wet, so close, so good but not being able to shoot his load inside your cunt.
His blue eyes shut tight as he tried to gain his thoughts back. “Me! Fuck, it’s me. I need to come… Let me come.” He whined at you.
It was your first time seeing him so… depraved. Dex was no stranger to being in control. He loved control; because control meant being in power and being in power meant having an advantage over people. But when it came to you? All control, all power and all advantages disappeared. His thoughts were nothing but about you and the way you made him feel. Because no one had truly made him feel that way before; like he was allowed to give up power and lay in his feelings.
“My cock hurts, m’fuck… Shit.” He groaned again, voice muffled by the pillow as he rolled it around. You hummed, moving both hands to brush sweaty hair away from his forehead. His skin was warm to the touch, you almost thought he had a fever for a second or so. A smile appeared on your face, less mocking than any before. “It hurts, baby? You want me to stop?” You asked, even though you knew Dex would never want to stop unless the safeword was used. So, he shook his head. Pleasure is pain, pain is pleasure.
“That’s a good boy. You can take it, right?” You asked, brushing his sweaty skin with your fingertips until they stopped at his chin. Dex opened his blue eyes just to focus on your face, he licked his lips before talking. “Yeah, I can. I fuckin’ can.” A smirk appeared on his face and his eyes became half-lidded as you pushed two fingers against his lips.
He immediately understood, his jaw dropping and mouth opening to let you push them in.
“That’s it, you’re doing so good, Dex.” You hissed while pressing your fingers against his tongue and deeper inside his mouth. Dex wrapped his lips around your digits and started to suck on them, rolling his tongue around and coating them in his saliva.
He probably didn’t expect you to do it, so a loud muffled moan escaped his mouth when you rolled your hips and pushed his cock deeper inside your sloppy cunt. His head rolled onto the pillow as he now struggled to suck on your fingers and gather his thoughts at the same time. You decided to be merciful to him, and pulled your fingers out of his warm mouth; a thread of saliva connected the tips of your digits to his lips. It made you moan. “God, look at you. I’ve never seen you like that, so submissive and pathetic.” You voiced to the man beneath you.
Dex only replied with a groan, tugging on his restraints once more and you wondered if he felt his skin becoming raw under the rope. Did it add pleasure to him? Given how freaky he was, probably.
“Yeah, no shit… You’re the devil.” He hissed as you rolled your hips once more, clenching your walls around his throbbing cock. He pulsated inside you, pushing against your insides and stretching your cunt so good. A look at where you were both connected made you see the creamy white ring around his girth and how good he also made you feel.
He was so big, filling you up with his mushroom tip slightly kissing your cervix but not enough to make it hurt.
The previous words leaving his mouth made you chuckle. “Come on, it’s just a little teasing. What should I say when you do the same to me?” He snorted, head rolling onto the pillow once more before his mouth fell wide open as you pushed yourself up from his cock. “Fuck, fuck… Your pussy’s so warm.” Dex groaned when you lowered yourself back down all the way onto his length. His back arched from the bed.
Obviously, he was overstimulated from the number of orgasms denied before, and the slightest movements were making him lose his mind.
“Focus, Dex.” You said, moving your hands to his chest. You caressed his scars slowly before focusing too, pressing your palms flat on his pectorals for support. Only then, you started to bounce up and down on his shaft—torturing him once again with your tight pussy. Dex gasped, the bed creaked as he squirmed under you and tried to tug on his restraints. Moans escaped his mouth, blue eyes closed shut as he tried to gather his thoughts with no effort and tears rolled down to his cheeks due to pleasure and overstimulation.
“Please, fuck, let me come this time. I’ll be good, yeah?” He hissed, eyes opening again just to watch your pussy leaking onto his cock; how your juices made everything glisten, how your clit rubbed into his base as you lowered yourself or how you took all of him. “You want to come? You want to fill my pussy, baby?” You asked him with mockery, leaning your upper body toward his chest so your breasts and nipples would rub against his pectorals.
Only then, you fastened your pace, eyebrows furrowing due to pleasure. Tears kept rolling from Dex’s eyes and you moved your face closer just to lick them off of his skin.
The bed creaked as you slammed your pussy down onto his cock, your ass slapping onto his thighs and loud squelching noises echoing in the room from your sloppy pussy. Your walls clenched around him, his pre-cum mixing with your juices and leaking from your hole to stick to his balls.
“I’m going to fill you up, yeah? Going to make sure you’re so fuckin’ full of me.” Dex groaned in your ear before you lifted your upper body up, sitting back perfectly onto his shaft. Your movements were now uncoordinated as you rolled your hips, bouncing with no true support. The noises echoing in the room were nothing but perverted and disgusting; a telltale of the sex that was happening.
You didn’t even reply to the words leaving Dex’s mouth, too busy with rubbing your cunt down against his hairy base—your clit being roughly stimulated that way. One of your hands shifted to your back and lower until it got to your ass. You reached under, which was harder than you expected it would, just to wrap your palm around Dex’s balls. A loud gasp came from his mouth and his back arch from the mattress. “Fuck! Fuck, yes!” He cried out, muffled by the pillow as he hid his face.
You tried your best to mix bouncing and rolling his balls into your palm at the same time; bringing more stimulation to him. The hiding of his face didn’t do anything and you could clearly see all the tears that rolled to his cheeks as he cried from overstimulation. His body squirmed beneath yours, thighs shaking and hips jerked to thrust inside you—which you weren’t sure was on purpose.
His tip rubbed at your entrance, making your pussy leak more juices and wetness. It was a mess; all was sticky and slick and glistening.
Your hand tightened its grip onto Dex’s balls, thumb rubbing at the skin there before almost pinching it. “Fuck! Too much, fuck, I’m going to come!” He cried, bringing more strength when tugging on the rope around his wrists. He didn’t seem to care about burning himself. “Going to come? You want it, baby?” You asked, before suddenly letting his balls fall from your palm just to slap them. Dex groaned loudly, hips jerking and before he had time to warn you; he came.
His whole body contracted, muscles convulsing under you as he shot his load inside your pussy. It was warm, thick and way too much. You could only keep bouncing as he filled you up, dragging his semen all the way down his length and to his base as you fucked yourself on his cock. “Shit! Shit! Coming!” He cried, and you slapped his balls again which made him shake from overstimulation.
Your free hand moved to his pectoral and you held yourself up for supper before giving real bounces on top of him. Your cunt clenched, filled up with his semen that leaked out of your hole in globs just to decorate his base and thighs. “Fuck, Dex—” You cried out too, trying a new angle just to feel his tip rub and hit your g-spot. Your mouth opened wide as pleasure ran through your body, making your thoughts foggy.
Dex cried out as overstimulation made his body shake, and neither was he able to think at that moment.
Your cunt clenched around his softening cock as you finally came—loudly crying out his name, body arching on top of his and pussy pulsating. The bed stopped from creaking and the room was filled with loud breathing for a second before you slowly pulled yourself up from Dex’s cock in a wet, shlick noise. “I think I just saw Heaven.” You joked to him and he only smirked in answer, still needing to gather his thoughts before talking.
Your walls clenched around air before you pushed, which made more come leak from your sloppy hole. Globs of semen fell down directly onto Dex’s cock and he groaned at the view, his shaft twitching for a second. “Untie me.” He finally spoke and you just did that, seeing his red and raw skin from all the tugging. He didn’t seem to care at all, so you didn’t mention it.
All Dex did was wrap his arms around your waist and pull your body down onto his. You were both naked, laying down in silence for what seemed to be eternity. Then, he spoke. “We definitely need to do that again,” his eyes lowered to your face, seeing you almost asleep from all the effort. “Turns out I’m really into overstimulation. And ball torture.” The last words made you laugh out loud. “Uh? Are you now?”
He rolled to face you, one strong hand on your lower back to caress your skin. “Use my knives, next time.” You rolled your eyes at that. “You’re insane, Benjamin Poindexter.”
He leaned his face, pressed his lips to yours for a kiss that only lasted a moment or so. “Yeah, I fuckin’ am. Insane about you.”
the bed creaks under ryland’s weight when he joins you to bed.
it feels like time had stopped for a moment and everything is so soft at the hour of the night. life is on pause, giving you the opportunity to relax and charge your batteries. for a second, you wonder if ryland is going to speak or if he’ll just wrap his arms around you and fall asleep like he often does (forgetting his glasses on top of his nose too)—but the silence is broken by the sound of his voice; quiet and soft.
“the stars are so bright tonight.” you hum at his words, eyes shifting to the open window. the stars are bright tonight, he’s right about that. one of his arms ends up wrapping around your waist just to bring you closer to his warmth. you shift, turn around to snuggle against his body before speaking too. “a theory on that, professor grace?” the words makes him smile and he leans his head to press a kiss to the crown of your head.
“i suppose they are closer to us, tonight? mhhhh, might be bigger too.” he says with a shrug, way too tired to go full expanse on the topic. but it’s enough to make you smile too and wrap your own arm around his body to get closer. the room falls silent once more but it’s a comfortable kind of situation.
you half-expect ryland to be asleep after a few minutes, but his voice echoes back into the room for one single sentence, one that makes your heart skip a little beat with how much love you feel.
“i think there’s one particular star that shines so beautifully tonight, and it’s you.”
taglist ﹏ @loverofmine99 @ravensreadingrecs @nuitts @filthgf @samwspn @angelicentity98 ( to be added )
dean thinks there’s something ethereal about seeing you in his hockey jersey.
he doesn’t truly understand why couples makes a big fuss over wearing each other’s clothes before seeing you in a shirt with his name on the back. it’s weird, he tells himself. he had a lot of partners before but he never felt that way with them. with you… seeing you in this cotton jersey… it shouldn’t change anything but it does. because you’re beautiful in it. because he can imagine falling asleep next to you, cuddling you close to his body and nuzzling his face in your face to smell the perfume you wore hours before.
“hey.” is the quietest word he probably ever uttered in his life—all that to not break the peace you have melted yourself in. but you lift your head up to look at him as he closes the door of his room, a smile on his face and dean forgets about the world. “hey back, mr. di laurentis.” you joke as he walks to you, crawling in bed to feel your warmth.
“have i told you how beautiful you are?” he says then, strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer until he can hide his face in your stomach; feeling cotton against his skin and peace inside his mind. you hum, running a hand through his blonde hair. “yeah, you might have. i don’t remember.” it’s a joke, again. of course you remember. but dean takes it seriously and lifts his head back to you, lips parted. you’re beautiful. you’re ethereal.
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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⠀ just thinking about bob reynolds being the most submissive man for you. to say he’s little to not experienced at all wouldn’t be a lie; but when it came to you, bob just loved to learn new things. you wanted him tied up to the bed? consider it done. you wanted him blindfolded? consider it done.
it was so overwhelming to not be able to see you, to touch you as you fucked yourself up and down onto his cock, making him moan your name out loud. “please, please… oh god, it feels so good. i feel so good.” he cried out as you lowered yourself down his length and clenched your walls around him. he tugged on the restraints, like begging to touch your soft skin, but you wouldn’t let him. “shhh, baby, relax. it feels good, doesn’t it?” you only voiced back at him, which he nods in reply.
bob can only bit down on his lips to not moan too loudly as you start to bounce again; slowly and steadily, squeezing his cock inside your warmth. his head rolls on the pillow, you hear whines escaping his mouth as his thighs shake. “i love it so much… i wanna come. can i come? please? i’ll be a good boy, i promise.” he begs you, trembling and begging all while his cock leaks pre-cum inside you, mixing with your juices. you would have loved making it last a bit longer but bob is so sweet, so obedient for you that you can’t help but give him permission.
and when he shoots his warm load inside you, hips jerking up to meet your core with whines; you tell yourself he’s definitely made to be the submissive one in this relationship.
summary ﹏ Contrary to people's belief, Dennis is the one having the reign over you; in other words, you are a brat and he is a tamer. So what happens when you decide to mock and tease him all day long throught your shift at the hospital? You know there's punishment to come, so don't be surprised at the end of the day.
cw ﹏ ( +18 ) mdni / smut fic. afab!brat!reader & brat tamer!dennis. established relationship. slight workplace (hospital) setting&teasing. implied domestic fluff. punishement play. dom&sub play. power imbalance / control dynamic. dirty-talking. praise. fingering. clit stimulation. light degrading&corrective language. edging. orgasm denial (ruined release). reward system implied. aftercare.
reblog is a creator's best-friend, thank you!!
Appearance mattered; Dennis thought. It mattered enough for people to put a judgement on you or suppose things.
The most supposed thing about Dennis was that he—given his appearance and personality—was the submissive one in bed. It was easy to think that, whenever people saw you together. You were a bit more confident than your boyfriend, a bit less (if not way less) awkward than him and God, not so clumsy. So yes, people often assumed that he liked being told what to do, that he liked being praised and arch his ass up for you. Honestly, Dennis wouldn’t even mind if you asked him too.
But the truth, if anyone came to discover it, was totally different.
You were a brat; speaking back to him, teasing him while being outside, rolling your eyes at him when he simply asked for things. And you did all that while damn knowing the fact that Dennis would punish you for it. Because see, he knew how to tame you, to make you regret being so mean and bratty without even lifting his voice at you. In the walls of your shared apartment, you knew who Dennis truly was and the system you had both set up for those kinds of situations.
Today had started like any other day; scrubs on, patients after patients, trauma rooms being a mess after intervention and jokes shared with Trinity near the nurses’ desk. You had both started gently teasing Dennis after he had been accidentally splattered with vomit (no blaming the poor patient that was nothing but sick) and had to change to another pair of scrubs.
It reminded you of your first shift with him last year, when you met and slowly fell in love after a few months.
Trinity had laughed, using the famous Huckleberry nickname she had been giving him for a year now and all you had done was repeat it in a mocking tone, mischief in your eyes. “That’s a funny nickname, don’t you think so?” You had said to your boyfriend, slowly seeing the change of expression on his face; the one that warned you gently. You could have stopped that, letting it go; but no, that wasn’t truly your style.
And all day long, each time you saw Dennis, you threw a mocking sentence his way, calling him Huckleberry, sticking your tongue out at him. And each time, his expression closed—not in anger, never in anger, but in a yeah, laugh now, you won’t be laughing later expression.
And yeah, true; you weren’t laughing anymore.
You had both finished your shift around 9pm, grabbing some burgers on the way home and talking about the day. You had expected Dennis to forget about your bratiness with the way he was joking on the way home or with how he held your hand. But that was your first mistake; because he helped you take your coat off when you got home, smiling at you with his awkward expression before he spoke. “Take your pants and panties off and go stand at the couch.” The words made you shiver, because you knew you were in for a punishment.
You decided to not push his buttons more, and slowly pulled your scrubs and panties down as he watched you; his eyes focused on your body and the movements of your hands. His arms crossed on his chest, the biceps he had worked for at the gym bulged with his actions and you felt your hole clench around nothing. “Come on, to the living room.” He simply said, once your lower half was naked.
You followed after him without a word, even though your steps were taken with no hesitation, you felt the goosebumps on your skin when your boyfriend sat down on the couch; his legs spread to give you space to stand between them and so, you did. The curtains were closed and you were glad; showing your naked buttcheeks to your neighbors wasn’t on your wishlist. You moved, standing straight in front of Dennis as he moved a hand, extending it to turn a lamp on; the low and warm light illuminated the room, making your skin glow for his eyes.
“Spread your legs, let me see you.” His voice was quiet but you heard it, moving your feet to spread your legs like he had asked. With the height difference, his face was right in front of your cunt and you knew it was definitely what he wanted. “You were a really bad girl today, right? Mocking me and calling me this stupid nickname.” Dennis voiced, which made you pout.
You liked being a brat, you didn’t like the punishment that followed. His eyes looked up at your face when you didn’t reply, his expression telling you it would be better to answer.
“I was just having fun with Trinity.” You said back and he hummed, nodding his head. “Yeah, I saw that too. But I thought you liked being a good girl? Good girls get rewards, not the bratty ones.” He added while his hands lifted up to rest on your inner-thighs, so close to your pussy that it made you clench again. “Dennis…” You whined at him, but he only shook his head. One of his hands shifted and his index finger pushed between your puffy folds, making you gasp. His finger rubbed around, parting your pussy lips just to gather wetness that had leaked from your hole.
You tried to not move, standing still as your boyfriend teased your cunt with his finger. He rolled the pad of it around your clit, smearing slick there before pushing his digit back between your folds. “Such a wet pussy. You like being punished?” He asked and you shook your head, another pout on your face. “No, I don’t. I like when you touch me and make me feel good.” You replied and Dennis chuckled, eyebrows raising up on his forehead like he was surprised by your answer.
“That’s a lot of fucking words for someone so bratty all the time. You think you deserve to feel good?” You wanted to say yes; because duh. You deserve the pleasure and to feel good all the time, but you knew that’s not the answer Dennis was waiting for, so you thought better than to say yes. “No, I don’t. Not right now, at least.” That made him smile and you then felt another finger meet his index. “That’s a good girl. So smart, aren’t you?”
His fingers teased your wet pussy, spreading your folds apart while you tried to not move away or thrust your hips toward him. A third finger was added just to press against your clit and Dennis shifted on the couch to sit at the edge, just to be closer to you.
He didn’t say anything else as his attention was taken by your sloppy cunt. His index and ring fingers were spreading you apart while his middle finger pressed and rubbed at your clit, smearing more wetness around. You sighed at the feeling, your hands closing into fists.
“That feels good, uh? Your pussy likes it.” You heard your boyfriend say, and you nodded. “It feels so good, Dennis, mmhfph.” It was getting harder to not move or react to his touch, but you knew he would stop if you did anything to show the pleasure you were getting.
Dennis’s fingers moved, exploring your pussy before you felt them at your leaking hole; two fingertips were pushing against the muscle there. “If you move, I stop, got it?” He said, looking up at your face and you nodded at his words. “Yes, yes… I got it. Please, touch me.” The impatience in your words made him chuckle and he licked his lips before pushing his fingers inside you. His fingers slipped inside you with ease with how wet you were being, but a slight burning sensation still took over your walls. Dennis waited a second before curling his fingers.
“Fuck, ah!” You cried out, closing your fists tighter and thighs shaking slightly with the sensation. Your head rolled to the ceiling, and you tried to think of something else so your body wouldn’t move.
“Good girl, being so obedient. See? You don’t have to be bratty all the time.” Dennis’ words echoed in the room before he started to thrust his fingers in and out of your sloppy pussy; his fingers already coated with your wetness. He held your hip with his free hand, pulling you closer while he fingered you; slowly at first, just to make you adjust.
Then, his palm rested flat against your folds, the heel of it tapping and rubbing against your slick clit each time he thrusted his fingers inside you. “Please, God, it feels so good…” You whined, head falling back down just to look at your boyfriend. “Feels good, pretty girl? You like having my fingers inside your pussy?” He asked, looking up at your face while fingering you. The tip of his fingers curled against your gummy walls, feeling the spongy texture as he searched for your g-spot.
Everything was sticky and slick as your juice leaked to his knuckles and to his palm when he pressed it flat against your folds once more. The heel of his palm rubbed your clit on purpose, bringing another layer of stimulation to your body. You did your best to not move your hands and rest them onto Dennis’ shoulders, or to not thrust your hips toward his face for more.
“Your pussy is squeezing my fingers, fuck. I want to bury my cock in here but you have been bratty all day, you don’t deserve it.” Dennis groaned the words.
Your eyebrows furrowed and you bit your lips before voicing back. “I’ll be a good girl, please… Can I have your cock?” Your boyfriend chuckled at the words leaving your mouth and he suddenly fastened the pace of his fingering. Loud squelching noises were heard, created by the amount of wetness at your cunt. “Fuck no. That’s what you get for being so fucking mean all day long. You take what I give you, got it?” You nodded your head, thighs shaking and mouth wide.
The pleasure coursed through your body, a pool of warmth laying at your lower-belly. “Yes, Sir! Yes, fuck! I’ll take it!” You replied, then.
The heel of his palm slapped directly onto your puffy clit, your wetness splashing onto your boyfriend’s hand and knuckles as he finger-fucked you faster. The feeling of the carpet under your feet was overwhelming; and so was the slight buzzing noise of the TV, even though it was off. Your toes curled from the pleasure, your nails buried inside the skin of your palms and you cried out.
“Feels so good! Please! Please, I want to come!” The words left your mouth suddenly, and Dennis went even faster with his pace; skin slapping skin echoed in the apartment as his palm hit your cunt each time his fingers buried back into your warmth.
“You want to come on my fingers? You think you deserve it after being a fucking brat all day long?” He spoke, voice rough due to the efforts he was doing to finger you, his head tilted up to look at your voice. “Look at me.” The words made your eyes lower to lock onto his own, shame coursing your body and mind at that moment. You nodded your head. “Yes, please, I want it so much! I want to come on your fingers, Dennis.”
You felt your orgasm getting closer and closer as your boyfriend thrusted his fingers inside you. It was close, so close that your mouth fell open and your eyebrows furrowed—and then, it was gone. “No, no, please!” You gasped loudly as Dennis suddenly pulled his digits out of your cunt right before you could come; your thighs trembling and a feeling of deception filled your body.
You whined and squirmed but all Dennis did was grab your hips and pull you onto his lap, making you straddle him.
Your pussy pulsated, your face was sweaty and warm as you sat down onto your boyfriend, almost searching for friction. He stopped you, hands tight on your hips. “You don’t deserve it, remember? Bratty girls don’t get rewards, I told you.” Dennis said, and yet, leaned his face closer just to press a kiss to your sweaty forehead. You took a deep breath after that; you should have known better than to think he was going to let you come. You nodded at his words, hands resting on his shoulders, digits playing with the fabric of his hospital scrubs. “I wanted it so much.” You still replied.
Dennis kissed your cheek, and then, the tip of your nose. “I know, but it’s the rules. You don’t get to come if you are a brat.” Your cunt pulsated again, you wanted to rub it off but stopped yourself from moving anyway. The sensation of Dennis’ hands on your waist made you feel warm and you relaxed, trying to forget about the denied orgasm.
You watched his face as he spoke again. “If you are a good girl tomorrow, I’ll fuck you, how about that? I’ll take you on the couch, on the kitchen counter and on the bed. I’ll fill you up with so much come that you won’t be able to think about anything else but me for days.”
The words leaving his mouth made your hole clench around air and you nodded. “I want that.” He nodded, leaning his face closer just to kiss your lips, before speaking against them. “All you have to do is be good, then.”
One of his hands gently tapped your waist after a quiet and comfortable moment of kissing. “Why don’t you go and take a shower while I heat up the burgers? Today’s shift have been insane, I just want to watch a movie now.” You smiled at his words before standing up from his lap, walking backwards toward the bathroom.
“Okay, sounds like a plan to me!” You heard Dennis chuckle when you entered the bathroom, his voice louder when he added. “Bet you’re going to fall asleep in front of the TV, anyway.”
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⠀ just thinking about benjamin poindexter overstimulating you to the point of crying ; he has you sitting on a chair, all tied up with ropes to make sure you aren’t able to move around too much. you’re only in your underwear, a vibrating wand tied to your thigh with more rope, the head pressed against your core. it had been going on for feels like hours now; tears rolling down your cheeks, drool all over your chin, your juices and release making a mess on the chair and down the floor.
your muscles are contracted, body shaking and trying to squirm away even though impossible.
he’s watching you, eyes focused on your messy underwear, of how you look at him with your mouth wide open, desperately trying to call him name. but there’s no safe word in sight; nothing that makes you want to stop this yet. you like the way dex is watching you, the way he palms himself through his tactical pants, playing with his clothed cock. another orgasm makes you cry out loud and the ex-fbi agent gets up with to wipe tears from your cheeks with his rough thumb.
“doing so good, doll.” is all he says before pressing a few buttons, setting the vibrations higher, which only makes you gasp and scream his name. back to the chair, getting his cock out just to jerk off; dex thinks messy you is the prettiest you’ve ever looked so far.
leon isn’t the most talkative man after a mission and you had to understand that; there’s exhaustion in his face and his shoulders are sagged beneath the weight of everything. the silence is heavy in the bedroom you both share, with you standing between his thighs and his hands tugging at the bedsheets and covers. there’s dried blood streaked across the side of his jaw, his tactical shirt torn near the shoulder, and the faint wince he tries to hide to you. and because you know him (because you love him) you don’t bombard him with questions.
leon let out a tired breath escape his mouth, blue eyes flickering toward you for only a second before softening. “it looks worse than it is,” he mumble, voice rough and worn thin, though neither of you believe that. you don’t know if he’s trying to joke, but another hiss leaves his mouth when you press the ball of cotton of his skin and the alcohol cleans his cut.
“that’s not really what i’d say,” you voice back, the tiniest of smile on your face. leon’s hands ends up by moving from the bed just to wrap around your waist, bringing you closer. when you kneel in front of him, he gives the faintest shake of his head. “you really don’t have to do this, you know? i can take care of myself.”
“i know,” you murmur back at him, and somehow that simple answer makes him go quiet again. “i do it because i want to… because i want to make sure you know someone is waiting for you at home and you have to be careful.” you add, then. when you finally start wrapping the deeper wound on his forearm, he’s staring down at you with that one expression he only ever wears when the world isn’t demanding something from him or when you are around.
“you know,” he says after a long moment, voice quieter now, almost fond, “after days like this… coming home to you feels like the only good thing left.”
you glance up at his face, smiling softly, fingers smoothing the bandage into place before resting your hand over his. leon leans forward then, forehead pressing gently against yours, eyes slipping shut as though this; your touch, your care, the quiet safety between you—is the first moment he’s been able to breathe all day.
“you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, i hope you know that.” you can hear him say.
clark always knows when your day at the daily planet has been exhausting; maybe it’s the way you step through the apartment door quieter than usual, the way your shoulders slump beneath your coat like the weight of the entire city somehow followed you home, or the tired exhale you let out the second you think you’re finally alone. and clark, being clark—being your boyfriend, soft-hearted and attentive in every way that matters, doesn’t overwhelm you with questions. instead, he looks up from where he’d been sitting at the kitchen counter, glasses slipping slightly down his nose, and offers you that familiar gentle smile before crossing the room in a few easy steps, arms already opening for you.
you’d fall into him immediately, almost instinctively, your forehead resting against his chest while his arms circle around you and pull you flush against him.
there’s something unfairly comforting about the way clark holds you: solid and steady, warm in a way that makes the entire world outside suddenly feel so far away. one of his hands settles at your waist while the other moves up slowly, fingers brushing at your nape, careful and featherlight as if he knows exactly where all the tension has been building. “long day at work?” he’d ask softly, voice carrying that quiet tenderness that somehow always makes your chest ache a little. you wouldn’t answer with words, only a small nod against him, and clark would understand immediately.
he’d guide you over toward the couch near the window, sitting first before gently pulling you down so you’re half-curled against him, practically tucked into his side while the city lights glow faintly beyond the glass. one arm stays securely around your shoulders while his fingers absentmindedly trace slow patterns against your arm, grounding and patient, never rushing you to say more than you want to.
after a few quiet minutes, he’d press a soft kiss against the top of your head and let out the faintest hum, content simply existing there with you. “you know,” he’d murmur after a while, thumb brushing gently over your sleeve, “i could fly you somewhere quiet for a bit. somewhere with no deadlines, no phones… just us.” you’d laugh softly for the first time all evening, and clark would smile against your hair, holding you a little closer. “or,” he’d add quietly, warm amusement slipping into his voice, “we stay right here, and i keep holding you until you forget what stressed you out in the first place.”
“that sounds like a good idea to me. just forgetting today inside your arms. there’s no better way to finish the day.” you’d voice at him and all he would do is lean his face closer to press a gentle kiss to your lips, arms tightening around your body.
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summary ﹏ You have been serving at Rhaenyra's sides for years now, and you can't deny the tension between the two of you. When the silver-haired woman calls you to her chambers one night, you realize it's not as one-sided as you thought it was.
cw ﹏ ( +18 ) mdni / smut fic. gn!servant!reader. little to no decriptions of canon events. forbidden romance trope. mutual pining. power imbalance dynamic. emotional intimacy. dominant leaning partner. dub-con (during overstimulation (?)). praise. hair pulling. body worship. fingering (rhaenyra receiving). begging. breasts / nipples play. multiple orgasms. oral sex (rhaenyra receiving). bodily fluids focus (wetness). squirting. aftercare. implied continuation.
reblog is a creator's best-friend, thank you!!
The first thing you had learned when entering service to Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen was that everyone underestimated her.
They saw a young woman born into privilege, silver-haired and sharp-tongued, a princess who rode dragons and wore gowns stitched with gold thread. They whispered behind carved stone pillars and muttered beneath their breath about her temper, her defiance, her refusal to bend the way noble daughters were expected to bend.
But they did not see what you saw, no, they did not see the weight she carried.
The exhaustion behind violet eyes after another bitter dinner shared with her father’s council, the tension that sat permanently in her shoulders when Queen Alicent was around, the quiet fury simmering beneath her skin every time another lord spoke over her, questioned her, dismissed her. And so you treated her the way no one else seemed willing to: like royalty, like the queen she had all the rights to be.
At first, you had simply been one among many servants assigned to her chambers in Red Keep when she was younger, but then she had started requesting you, preferring the fact that you were both around the same age.
You were quieter than the others; never prying, never gossiping, never shrinking around her the way some did when she grew sharp or impatient. Eventually, somewhere over the passing months, you became the one she trusted most.
You prepared her chambers, pressed her dresses, fastened the intricate silver clasps and ribbons at the back of her gowns, brought her wine after particularly miserable council meetings and helped remove jewelry from her neck when she was too exhausted to do it herself. And somewhere between those long years and her father dying—something shifted.
It had happened gradually with a glance held too long, a touch lingering where it had never lingered before or the way silence between you no longer felt like the silence between princess and servant and neither of you had dared name it. Not yet, at least. Because naming it would make it real and you had no idea if you were even allowed to dream about it.
Something had changed for sure; you had served her for a bit more than two decades now, watching her grow into a woman but these past years, something had shifted between the both of you. You had traveled all the way to Dragonstone to stay with her as she became older, just to stay by her sides as she tried to take back what was rightfully hers.
You felt the tension between you both now more than ever, it was impossible not to and especially today.
The afternoon sun spilled through the open balcony doors of her chambers as you stood behind her, carefully fastening the final silver clasp of a deep crimson gown she had chosen for supper. The fabric hugged the curve of her waist elegantly, the dark red making her pale hair appear almost luminous where it tumbled over bare shoulders.
Your fingers brushed the nape of her neck, you paused. It was accidental, barely even a touch if you were honest. But immediately—you felt Rhaenyra inhale; it was sharp, noticeable, her back straightening. Your own breath caught at her reaction and you stared at the pale skin exposed beneath her hair.
You should pull away.
But instead of moving, you remained there; too close, far too close for someone of your status. In front of you, her reflection stared back through the polished mirror: she was watching you.
Your fingers remained frozen against her neck. Then softly, words left her mouth. “You have become terribly hesitant around me.” Her voice was lower than usual. You immediately pulled your hand away, feeling your fingers trembling. “My apologies, my Queen.”
Her eyes narrowed in the mirror. “There.” You frowned slightly in curiosity, not understanding what she meant. “My Queen?”
“That tone.” She turned slowly in her chair until she faced you completely, close enough that your knees nearly brushed hers. “That overly formal tone you use whenever you grow nervous. I know it by heart now.” You swallowed.
“I do not know what you mean.”
A smile pulled faintly at her mouth. “You are lying.” You looked away immediately, and she noticed. Of course she noticed, Rhaenyra always noticed things when it came to you, it was nothing new.
She leaned back lazily against the chair. “You know…” she murmured. “I remember when you first entered my service.” You glanced back at her. “You could barely look at me.” The words almost bring a smile out to your face but you stop it from happening. “I was terrified back then.” You only reply to her and that earned a quiet laugh from her.
“Yes, I recall.” Her gaze moved over your face, slowly, too slowly. “And now?” Your throat felt dry, you can feel your heart beating inside your chest; loud and fast. “Now what, my Queen?” She tilted her head, her violet eyes looking at you.
“Are you still terrified of me?”
Silence.
You could hear your own heartbeat, once again.
She was doing this intentionally; pushing, testing. And Gods help you—you wanted her to keep going. You cleared your throat, then. “I respect you.” The words left your mouth so easily because it was only the truth. “That is not what I asked.” The room had suddenly become too warm and you tried stepping backward but she noticed immediately.
Her hand shot forward and wrapped gently around your wrist just to still you. Every muscle in your body locked and your back straightened just to appear taller than you already were. Her fingers were warm, they were soft against your skin.
Rhaenyra’s eyes flickered downward toward where she held you before her violet orbs slowly lifted again.
“No.” Her voice was velvet. “You are not frightened of me anymore, right?”
You couldn’t answer because the truth sat heavily in your chest, in your brain, inside all of your thoughts. She was right about it; you weren’t scared of her anymore, you were scared of the fact that you wanted her. That you wanted to feel her love, her skin against yours, her breath mingling with your own.
She released you after several endless seconds and the absence of contact felt immediate: it was cold and you felt empty about it. Rhaenyra stood, the movement forced you back half a step but even then, she stood directly in front of you.
The scent of jasmine oil drifted from her skin, you could see every little thread of silver-white hair from her head, or the way her violet eyes looked at you. Her voice softened when she spoke up. “Tell me something.”
“Yes, my Queen?” Again, that smile when you used her title. You cursed yourself internally at the use of it; like it was inked into your brain and you couldn’t do much about it. She stepped around you toward the balcony.
“Why do you insist on calling me that when I’ve said before you could be informal with me?” You turned to face her, curiosity on your face like you didn’t understand the meaning of her words. “Because you are the Queen, I must respect it. I believe it.”
She looked toward the sea in the distance. “But that is not why you say it.”
You stayed silent and she folded her arms, speaking up once more for you to hear. “Others call me Queen because they are required to.” She turned her head slightly, then. “You say it as though you are reminding yourself.”
Your pulse jumped, heart skipping a beat inside your chest. You had not realized she had noticed, but Rhaenyra noticed every single detail about every single thing. There was no way of escaping that, not as a servant.
Because every time you called her Queen—it was to remind yourself what she was. To you, she was untouchable, fire and way beyond you. She watched your silence carefully as you were thinking, then finally smiled faintly.
“You may go.” You blinked. “My Queen?”
She faced forward again, her hands grabbing the rocky balcony. All you could think about was how you’d kill to intertwine your fingers with hers; even if for just a second, just a moment with her. “I shall see you later.” Something in the way she said it made your stomach twist. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, you told yourself. So you bowed your head quickly. “Yes, My Queen.”
You turned and left the chambers, but you could feel her watching you all the way to the door or how her violet eyes seemed to never leave your form.
Night settled heavily over the castle: the humid corridors of Dragonstone had quieted considerably now, servants retreating to lower quarters while guards changed shifts beneath torchlight.
You sat alone in the servant chambers attempting to focus on repairing a torn sleeve from one of the younger princes’ tunics. It was impossible; your mind kept replaying the afternoon.
How Rhaenyra’s hand around your wrist, her eyes and the way she had stood impossibly close. Her deliberate teasing, the knowing look she wore every time your composure slipped. You pressed a hand over your face. Gods. What was happening? And worse: why had she suddenly decided to act on whatever this tension was between you?
A knock sounded sharply against the wooden door, which made you look up. Another servant stood there, squirming on her feet before speaking quietly. “The Queen requests you.” Your heart stopped, the sun had settled down, your chores were over. There was no need for Rhaenyra to call you this late. “Now?” The servant nodded once, timid.
You stood immediately, your hands suddenly felt cold and trembling as you wondered what would happen now. Have you made a mistake? Were you impolite earlier?
“Thank you.” You voiced to the servant before leaving the room. The walk through the corridors felt endless; every footstep louder than the last. You reached her chambers and the guards outside said nothing. One opened the heavy door, you stepped inside, quietly, heart skipping a beat inside your chest.
The door closed right behind you, loud and competing with the pace of your heart. You froze; the room was dimly lit with candles burned low across the chamber walls. The balcony doors stood open, allowing cool night air to drift through white silk curtains.
And there, across the room, Rhaenyra sat at the edge of her bed, waiting. She was no longer wearing the crimson gown from earlier, nor the heavy jewelries of the day. Instead, a loose ivory sleeping shift hung from her frame, thin and sheer enough that the candlelight caught every movement beneath the fabric. Her silver hair spilled freely over bare shoulders.
She looked impossibly beautiful. Dangerously so.
Your throat tightened and you lowered your gaze immediately. “You called for me, my Queen?” A long silence took over the room, the only thing you could hear was the waves crashing over the rocks of Dragonstone.
Then, her voice, quiet and soft. “Come closer.” You obeyed without thinking about it twice; each step felt heavier than the next but you felt your body buzzing. You stopped several feet away from her position and she frowned slightly. “I said closer.” It was an order, you felt like, and obeyed it for a second time.
You stepped forward again, now only a breath separated you. Rhaenyra tilted her head upward to look at you, her violet eyes seemed to analyze your everything. There was no teasing now, no, only something deep and unreadable burning behind violet eyes. She studied your face quietly, like she was searching for something in your expression.
“Tell me truthfully.” You forced yourself to meet her gaze when she spoke, curiosity on your face at that moment. “Yes?” Her voice lowered, you tilted your head to the side when hearing the next sentence. “Have you noticed it too?” You knew exactly what she meant, obviously.
But still, you whispered. “Noticed what?” One of her hands rose until slender fingers brushed against your wrist; at the exact same place she had touched you earlier. Her index paused at your pulse point, she could feel your heart skipping a beat and she hummed quietly, like it was exactly what she was searching for; a proof.
“This.” The word barely left her lips and her fingers moved upward, finally. She traced the inside of your forearm, watching every reaction cross your face.
You stood utterly still, unable to move, unable to breathe properly. Your thoughts were in shambles and you wondered if this was allowed; if you were allowed to dream about this again. Her hand reached your elbow, then higher and the soft fabric of your tunic wrinkled beneath her fingertips.
Rhaenyra spoke again. “For weeks now…” Her voice had gone quieter, like it was a secret only you were allowed to hear. “…I have watched you look at me when you think I do not notice.” Your chest tightened painfully but she continued, not aware of it. “You linger when fastening my gowns.” Her fingers reached your shoulder. “You stare when brushing my hair.” Her thumb dragged lightly over your collarbone. “And every time I touch you…”
She leaned forward slightly now, so close her breath warmed your skin and you almost gasped at the feeling of it. “…you stop breathing.” You swallowed hard, saliva stuck down your throat like a ball of words not ready to be said yet.
“Queen Rhaenyra…” She smiled softly at the title leaving your mouth. “Look at me.” Her fingers reached your jaw now, tilting your face fully toward hers. Your body had stopped functioning entirely; every thought scattered, your muscles relaxed, your pupils blown out. Her thumb traced your lower lip and she watched the movement with quiet fascination.
She ended up whispering to you. “Tell me how you feel.” You forced words out somehow; even if they weren’t what you truly wanted to say. “I should not.”
“Why?” Rhaenyra asked, her eyebrows furrowing at the words leaving your mouth like she couldn’t understand them. Like that wasn’t what she was waiting for. “You know why.” You only voiced back to you. A dangerous spark flashed in her eyes then; she refused that. “Say it.” Your chest rose sharply at the tone of her words, even though you weren’t scared of her.
“You are my Queen.”
“No.”
She leaned closer. “I’m so much more than that and you know it.” Her voice was quiet, but firm. You stared at her; unable to think for what felt like hours. She stood from the bed then and the sudden movement forced you instinctively to the side until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. And even then, she kept advancing, closing the distance again until your body nearly touched hers.
Rhaenyra stared up at you and neither of you breathing normally now.
Outside, somewhere in the distance, a dragon cried across the dark skies over Dragonstone. A cry that you recognized to be Syrax.
Inside the chamber—silence. It was heavy and charged with tension that you had never felt before, a tension that you had dreamed of for weeks now, if not months and years. Her fingers slipped slowly beneath your chin, holding you there. Her voice was quiet and soft when she spoke again, breathing against your face. “I grow tired…” Her lips hovered dangerously close now. “…of being the only one brave enough to do something about this.”
Your entire body went still; there was nowhere to look except her mouth and she noticed; a slow smile touched her lips.
Rhaenyra leaned closer, not kissing you yet but leaving only inches between you like she was giving you the choice to do something about it. Her voice became barely more than a whisper after a second of silence. “Tell me to stop.” Your lips parted but no words came because you couldn’t deny that you wanted it as much as she did.
Her thumb stroked your jaw once, eyes locked onto yours and the silence stretched without a single word leaving your mouth. You couldn’t deny it anymore. “That is what I thought.” The whisper hit your ear and with one final slow step forward, your legs gave way against the edge of the bed behind you.
Rhaenyra followed immediately with one hand braced beside your shoulder against the mattress, the other still cradling your face. Silver hair fell around both of you like moonlight and her gaze dropped to your lips again before they returned to your eyes. Her own breathing now uneven and just before the space between you disappeared entirely, she whispered against your mouth. “Tonight…”
Her fingers tightened slightly at your jaw. “I would very much like you to stop calling me Queen. Use my name.”
She didn’t wait for a reply from you before her lips found yours in a heated kiss; a kiss that transcended how much she had waited for it. Her hand tilted your jaw up as she pressed her mouth harder against your own. Both of your hands lifted up, hovering over her waist and the thin fabric of her nightgown like you weren’t totally sure if you had the right to touch her. Rhaenyra pulled away just to look at you. “Don’t think too much about it. Just focus on me.”
The words broke you out of your thoughts and just before you realized, you had rolled her over onto the mattress, now being the one on top. Rhaenyra’s violet eyes were wide for a tiny second before she relaxed and smiled at you; still guarded, but open.
“Is this alright?” You still asked, making sure you weren’t pushing it too far. She only nodded at you before both her hands cupped your jaw, bringing you back into a kiss. A whine escaped you, muffled by her lips as you kissed; you could feel the warmth of her skin, her breath against your face, her body under yours.
One of your hands moved to her thigh, lifting the sheet fabric of her nightgown upward to her stomach; Rhaenyra gasped against your mouth at the feeling of your cold fingertips on her skin. “You can touch me. I want you to.” The words left her mouth and you nodded, bringing her back into a kiss. A multitude of thoughts appeared in your mind, all those disappearing when the woman beneath you rolled her hips up.
Her hands curled around your neck, fingers through your hair as she pulled you closer.
Your fingertips sneaked toward her core as she opened her legs for you; it was warm, already wet as you pushed two fingers between her folds. The kiss was broken just so Rhaenyra could moan, her eyebrows furrowing at the feeling of your digits teasing her pussy. You smeared wetness around, making sure to slick her clit before your digits lowered to her hole.
“Gods, please, do not tease me.” She spoke, her violet eyes focusing on your face as you rubbed the entrance of her pussy; the muscles there clenching at the touch. You ended up licking your lips, looking down at her cunt and back up at her face. “I’m not—Alright, let me…” You focused, your mouth falling open like you were the one receiving the touch. The tip of your fingers pushed against her hole, her thighs trembling and you forced your fingers inside her.
Rhaenyra gasped, her back arching from the bed and toward you as you sighed. Her walls were warm and tight around your fingers; pulsating and clenching just to accommodate for you. You waited until you had permission to move. “Go, move—” The silver-haired woman spoke from under you, her forehead already glistening with sweat; the air around the chamber was humid and filled with tension.
Your eyebrows furrowed once more as you moved your fingers inside her, curling them to press against her inner-wall. Everything was so wet and warm, making it easier to pump your digits in and out, creating quiet squelching noises. Your orbs moved upward to focus on Rhaenyra’s face, her fingers ended up tugging at your hair which made you hiss and curl your fingers more.
“Your touch… is all I’ve wanted for weeks now. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” The words left her mouth is a quiet and soft tone, like she couldn’t believe to be this open with you. Like she was scared you could reject her and what she also felt for you. Your heart skipped a beat inside your chest, sweat forming at your back.
“Rh—Rhaenyra…” You stuttered the name, testing it on your tongue as it was your first time using it.
Her walls clenched around your fingers then, making you pump faster inside her. “Gods!” She gasped, eyes wide as the heel of your palm slapped against her sensitive clit, rubbing it while you searched for that one spot. The hand that was keeping you up fell from the mattress, just for your elbow to take its place. “Please, let me touch you more. Please, Rhaenyra.” You begged her.
The tugging on your hair softened before both her hands moved to cup your jaw once more, bringing you into a new kiss as you kept fingering her pussy. It felt like permission to you, and so, even with difficulties, your free hand moved to unknot the ribbon of her nightgown. The fabric slowly revealed her bare breasts, her perky nipples and her pale skin. When you both separated from the kiss, you didn’t lose any seconds before wrapping your mouth around one of her buds.
Rhaenyra moaned at the feeling, back arching up.
The fingers you had inside her sloppy pussy slowed, making her squirm beneath you. One of her hands moved to tug back on your hair, actually pushing your head closer to her chest at the same time. You moaned around her nipple at that; sucking and lapping at the bud, rolling your tongue around before gently nipping at it. You felt how her walls clenched around your digits and how squirmy she was being.
“Gods, you know how to touch me so well—please, do not stop.” She moaned out, her thighs shaking around your hand. You pulled away from her chest, letting go of her nipple in a loud pop! noise.
Your fingers were making a mess of her pussy as more wetness leaked out of her sloppy hole, slicking her clit and making her inner-thighs glisten. Rhaenyra’s hands moved to tug at the bedsheets, her knuckles white from the strength she had, all due to the pleasure she felt.
“You’re clenching around my fingers, Rhaenyra, Gods!” You couldn’t stop yourself from saying, your eyes lowering to where your fingers disappeared; loud squelching noises now echoing in the room.
Her head rolled to the side, hiding in the sheets as you fastened your pace. Your palm slapped against her clit, your fingertips rubbing at the spot right after her entrance. Rhaenyra’s hips rolled toward your hand as the pleasure kept coursing through her body.
Diving your head back toward your chest, you decided to press kisses along her sternum, under her tits and toward her bellybutton. She gasped at the sensation, moans leaving her mouth that vibrated against the rocky walls and hit your ears. It was beautiful, melodic, and powerful. “You sound so good, Rhaenyra… You’re doing so good for me.” The words left your mouth, whispered to her which made her violet eyes focus on your face.
“You have to make me come, now. I need to come on your fingers.” Is all she replied, making you take a deep breath. Your mouth traveled back to her tits and there, you decided to wrap your lips around her second nipple; sucking on it as she moaned. Your tongue pressed against the bud, rolling around it before you sucked harder. “Yes, oh Gods!” Her back arched up from the bed, pushing her breast harder against your mouth.
Her sloppy pussy clenched around your digits as they hit her g-spot; rubbing at the velvety walls vigorously. Her thighs shook, her hips jerked up as the pleasure coursed through her body. “I’m going to come! Don’t stop now!” You heard as you nibbled onto her nipple, suckling, letting saliva leak from the corner of your mouth and onto her breast.
At her words, you even fastened your digits, pumping inside her pussy. The muscles of your arm were burning now, begging to be relaxed but you didn’t listen to them; you couldn’t listen to them until Rhaenyra had come.
Both her hands moved once more, fingers grabbing at the fabric of your tunic to pull you closer to her warm body. It is with your palm hitting her clit hard with skin slapping skin noises that she finally came; crying out your name and shaking against the bed. Her muscles contracted and she squirmed.
“Gods! Yes, please! I’m coming! Fuck!” Her voice was loud in the chamber but neither of you seemed to care much about it, too focused on the moment.
The view of her with her glistening forehead and disheveled hair made something snap inside you—your fingers kept pumping inside her; even faster which made her gasp as her orgasm prolonged. Her head rolled onto the mattress as you lowered yourself with a newfound energy; just to press your mouth to her sloppy cunt. Rhaenyra’s eyes widened at the feeling of your tongue lapping at her clit and she pulled herself up on her elbows just to look at you, her legs shaking around your head.
Your free hand moved to spread her thighs open just to have a clear view of her pussy; glistening, slick and sloppy. “What are you doing?” She simply asked, her muscles still trembling but you only lifted your gaze up to look at her as you ate her out, shaking your head against her pussy as you flicked her clit with the tip of your tongue. She moaned, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and hips rolling upward.
Your mouth pulled away just so you could split a glob of saliva onto her sensitive clit, watching it drip between her wet folds and mix with her juices until it stopped at her hole, where your fingers were still buried. Your fingers pulled out just for a second, pushing your saliva inside her cunt before slamming back inside.
Your digits picked up the pace then, never faltering as Rhaenyra moaned. “Please—Gods, I can’t! Feels too good!” She cried out as your fingertips found her g-spot directly.
Head diving back to her cunt, you wrapped your mouth around her clit and sucked onto it, feeling her clit pulsate on your tongue. Tears formed at the corner of Rhaenyra’s eyes due to the pleasure, her mouth falling wide open as she spoke. “No! I’m going to come again… Gods, t-too much!” Her hips rolled toward your face and you sucked harder on her clit all while your fingers pumped inside her sloppy pussy. Her wetness was making everything more slick; her skin glistening with your saliva and juices.
Your tongue pressed against her sensitive nub before you pulled away in a loud pop! noise, now teasing her clit with flickers of your tongue. Once more, her gummy walls clenched around your digits and she squirmed. “Gods, no! Coming! I’m coming!” She cried out as you lapped at her cunt, tasting her juices on your buds. You licked flat strips between her folds before going back to her clit, sucking on it harder than before.
Rhaenyra wasn’t lying; she came again, but stronger this time. “Fuck! Fuck, please!” The cursing was loud, echoing against the walls as you kept going; your fingertips rubbing at her g-spot, your tongue flickering her clit.
“Please, Rhaenyra, keep coming for me.” You spoke against her cunt as she squirmed, elbows giving up and back arching. You lapped at her pussy, gathering her wetness on the tip of your tongue before sucking back on her clit.
She didn’t have time to warn you before her pussy clenched and her juices flowed out; hitting your face but more precisely, your mouth. You gasped in surprise, your jaw slacking immediately as you opened your lips to taste her. Your fingers kept pumping inside her, your free hand moving to rub at her clit with three fingers so she’d kept coming. Rhaenyra cried, body convulsing with the pleasure she felt, her thighs trying to close but you wouldn’t let her.
She squirted more as you overstimulated her clit and g-spot and it’s only once all the juices flowed out of her that you gently pulled your digits out.
The room was silent of words; only loud with whining and loud breathing. The bed creaked under your weight as you moved to sit on your knees, cleaning your face and fingers onto the fabric of your tunic. Rhaenyra was silent but watched you, face glistening with sweat. A few minutes passed as you also tried to breath again, asking yourself if all of this was a dream.
“Come here—” She spoke to you, waving you closer. You listened, crawling next to her body before falling down to imitate her position. Her body immediately melted into yours and one of your hands moved to grab her own.
“You were amazing.” She spoke, violet eyes looking at your face. “You made me feel amazing.” She added and you sighed at the words. “This is all I ever wished for, Rhaenyra.” You voiced back.
Her free hand lifted to your face, caressing the soft skin there. “Stay with me until the morning?” Her words were quiet but you felt all the feelings inside them; how she kept you close to her heart. “Am I truly allowed?” You whispered and she nodded, eyes searching for yours through the semi-darkness. “You are allowed, yes.”
“Then, I would love to stay with you, Rhaenyra.” A smile decorated her face for a while before she leaned her face closer to yours, pressed a kiss to your lips that lingered. When she pulled away, her hands gently undid the knot of your tunic, freeing your skin from the warmth of it.
“Let me show you how good I can also make you feel?”
( +18 ) mdni : explicit content ahead afab!watcher ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ must be logged on twt/x to watch these! do not watch in public or with sounds on, unless alone ★
when anal isn’t enough! ﹏ using you as a toy ﹏ eating you out like dessert ﹏ his favorite roleplay ﹏ stuffing your panties inside after coming inside you ﹏ the type of videos he sends you ﹏ fucking your throat ﹏ permission to come? ﹏ breeding you in the backyard ﹏ fucking you for hours ﹏ pussy spanking ﹏ (tw) your stalker finds you! ﹏ anal creaming ﹏ his stress toy ﹏ petplay ﹏ making a mess of your panties ﹏ dragon!dex.
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