Marihoneywk - Mari - Tumblr Blog

nothing will ever amaze me the way fanfiction authors do. like, you wrote silly little stories about my favorite little guys? and i can read them?? for free??? that’s fucking wild.

you poured your heart and soul and very being into your writing and then put it out there for anyone to read? insane.

you spend a truly incredible amount of time writing novel-length, high quality stories, again, FOR FREE, that anyone can read, again, FOR FREE??

shoutout to every single fic author in existence, you guys are fucking incredible and i love all of you so much

YES he traumatised everyone tonight. but he served cunt while doing it.

We're off to battle again, old girl.

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON 2.04 A Dance of Dragons

Episode 4 of hotd was so good what 😭 (spoilers alert)

I was disappointed with the new season until now but episode 4 was amazing!! I do have mixed feelings about some changes (little spoiler - 🤰🏻👑🪦) but overall the battle was so so good and made this episode pure cinema.

ALSO aemond acted so fucking hot this episode bye- the high valyrian??? his expression when he 🔥 aegon???

Tumblr is a fate driven website. You can't find posts through the search function, you see them when you're meant to.

Hyperfixations are like rabies

They’re sudden, symptoms don’t start showing until it’s already too late, there’s delusions, a sensitivity to light, once you’ve been diagnosed it’s already too late to save you, and there’s no cure

sharing is caring | smut (rewritten)

important author's note : if any of you came from my old blog (well same user, but i accidentally, stupidly deleted everything), you would know that this was my most popular fic. now, i've re-written it and made it much better than before. i hope you'll all like this! :) i'm also changing up my templates a bit :0

pairing : (gamer)boyfriend!san x fem/afab reader (reader is specified to be jongho's age) ft. the rest of the members

smut : daddy kink, humiliation (but you're a masochist so you like it), penetrative sex, san's PACKING, dom/sub dynamics, consensual exhibitionism (through video call), sex on a gamer chair, heavy degradation, edging, multiple orgasms, biting, spit/cum play, creampie, manhandling, use of hitachi 'magic wand' vibrator, PURE FILTH.

summary : you two were freaky enough as is, but add to that by having sex on san's gaming chair and having all seven of his friends watch him pound your cunt. ♡ 5.43k words

smut under the cut, minors do not interact

Cold. You felt cold, all except for your backside. Pressed against your boyfriend, his thighs spreading yours open, warm in his tight embrace. Your hands were clutching the arms of his gaming chair, the constant cool air of the room making your legs shiver, and what was in between feeling sensitive, seeing that you wore nothing else under your skirt.

"Darling, it's a little rude to not greet our guests, right?" San purred into your ear, both of his hands playing with the ends of your terribly short skirt, threatening to expose what was underneath.

His lips hit the shell if your ear, the tip of his tongue licking your soft skin to tease your already timid nature.

"I'm sorry." you quickly apologized, your wavering eyes trying to look confidently towards the monitor. But, you couldn't help but stare at his keyboard and repeatedly blink as you spoke, "Hi."

You weren't usually this shy in front of San's best friends, primarily since you've known some of them for years, but any girl in your position, literally and figuratively, would feel exactly how you felt.

The fact you were wearing a tight-fitted shirt, a skirt that San loved fucking you in, no bra or underwear to be seen, and were sprawled out on San's lap—you had every right to feel sinfully aroused.

"Good girl," he responded with confidence laced into his voice, now one of his hands caressing up and down your bare thigh like he was petting you, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"No," you said quietly again, biting your bottom lip in nervousness. God, you wanted this, you agreed to this, but you couldn't help but feel timid during the actual occasion.

"Chin up, sweetheart. Let the boys see your pretty face."

"I—I can't." you admitted. San knew, and you knew he knew, that you were overwhelmed in the best way possible. You were visibly hot and bothered, and he could swear that you were already beginning to leak on his pants.

"Yes, you can. Come on, sweetie. They're all so, so eager to see how you look right now." his hand now tightened around your thigh as if to tell you 'don't be a brat,' and you understood well enough to obey.

Again, and with no answer this time, you didn't do as told. However, it was much too early for you to get punished, right? San would let this one slide, right? Wrong.

Suddenly, you felt a hand grip your jaw, forcing you to look up to the screen. Your eyes widened, your breath stopped, cheeks slightly squished by your boyfriend's fingers as you made eye contact with every one of the boys. And every one of them had a shit-eating smirk on their faces as they looked at you.

"God, baby." San spoke in faux disappointment, "You were being such a good girl today, and now when it's the main event, you choose to be a brat? Are you asking to get punished?"

"No!" you interjected, turning your head just enough to look San in the eyes.

"No, what?" he raised both his eyebrows, taunting you through the strands of hair covering a bit of his face.

"No, daddy." you added, not believing yourself for forgetting to say that.

"Awe," San pouted his lips and furrowed his eyebrows to mock you, now grazing your cheek with the same fingers that gripped it just seconds ago, "So cute of you to assume that you decide when you get punished."

You breathed in, looking back at the screen with the push of his hand. You could somewhat see the appearance being shot by the webcam at the bottom left of the screen, showing both you and San clearly on display. You could see and feel how San was beginning to slightly touch your core, inching closer with every move, exposing more of you to the other seven men.

Soon enough, they would all be able to see how wet you were getting.

"Who's idea was it to have the Hitachi on-hand again?" San spoke, talking to his friends this time.

"Mine." Wooyoung replied, slightly raising his hand with pride as he pursed his lips in a smile. You weren't surprised by the slightest that it was his idea, knowing damn well from San that a lot of the sex advice he got was from Wooyoung.

"Thank you, Wooyoung." San started, "Now, because you thought of it, why don't you speak to my baby and tell her about what kind of punishment she'll be getting."

"I would love to." the grin still on his face. You could hear him roll forward with the chair he was sitting on, now laying his chin on one of his hands as he spoke to you, "Hi Y/N."

"H—hi." you greeted back, learning that it was better for you to speak than not speak at all.

"You look very, very pretty tonight, cutie." Wooyoung complimented, liking the doe-eyed look on your face, "Can I ask you something first before I tell you your punishment?"

"Sure." you nodded.

"Are you actually looking forward to having us watch you get fucked by Sannie?"

His question left you somewhat surprised, seeing that you had agreed to do this months ago and multiple times since then, to assure that everything was consensual. But it seemed that now it was actually happening; they all, including San, wanted to make sure that you enjoyed this.

In a way, it was a sweet gesture hidden in desire.

"Yes," you answered with only one word first. But before Wooyoung could speak again, you took in their consideration and realized you needed to be more vocal, "Yes. Very much so. I like this."

Your answer seemed to please them all, the atmosphere going from still to much more relaxed, much more sexual than before.

"I'm glad." Wooyoung paused before visibly checking you out once again, maybe for his own measures, "So, first, grab the Hitachi from the table before I give you any other commands."

"O—okay." you confirmed that you heard him, San also helping you lean forward to grab the vibrator from the table. "And then?"

"Patience, Y/N." his comment made you feel a little sheepish, having shown how eager you were. "Can I have San spread your legs a little wider so that we can see everything?"

You were, again, taken aback by the question but appreciated that he asked regardless. You nodded and said 'yes' once again, allowing yourself to melt more into San's body. Your hand gripped the Hitachi wand to not drop it, as your boyfriend adjusted his legs to spread yours more since he was under you.

Because of the movement, you were now on full display. Your aching pussy was now visible to the rest of the guys. There was no room for you to be shy anymore, not like before. The guys also felt the vulnerability you were experiencing, seeing that they were about to watch their friend's girlfriend get fucked.

"My, my~" another voice was now speaking, which you could easily recognize as Seonghwa's. "San was right. You look exceptional when you're turned on."

"Sannie.." you whined, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked back at him. You felt like punching him in the face for talking about you that way, but you couldn't necessarily deny that you found it hot.

However, the punching agenda was still considered when he smiled and said a meaningless 'oops, sorry.'

"He's not wrong, Y/N." Wooyoung said, "Now since you still need to get punished, set the wand on high."

"High?" you asked, not sure if you were hearing him right. The night had just started, and he immediately already wanted you to use the vibrator on high?

"Yes, place it against your tits first. They seem a little neglected, don't you think?" Wooyoung cocked his head to the side, making himself seem like the usual playful person you normally knew.

You expected that he would've made San do it for you, but having you do it to yourself while you're propped on your boyfriend like a display piece for a public audience felt humiliating.

Then again, this was supposed to be your punishment. And a little humiliation never scared you off.

With your dominant hand, you pressed it first against your clothed, right nipple. Your body reacted with a slight jolt, shaken by the sudden contact with the sex toy.

Undeniably so, the buds on your tits were already rather hardened because of how fitting the shirt was and the cold air, but having the vibrator touch you was a much more pleasurable sensation.

"A—ah~” you let out a small moan, but it was loud enough for the guys to catch.

"Move on to the other." you heard Yunho speak this time. You did as told and tried to subside your reaction following his words. Of course, it failed since they all could tell from your shut eyes and quivering figure that you were enjoying this.

"Good, you're already turning into the obedient slut I usually know." San commented, stimulating you further by kneading your breasts with both his hands.

"Now that you know what to expect," Wooyoung continued on, "Put it on your clit and keep it there until we tell you to stop."

This time, you used both hands to clutch the toy, inching it closer to your bare core that was tingling with excitement. The buzzing sound of the vibrator was intimidating, but that wasn't what you were afraid of. What they would decide for you to do with it was what scared you.

The second the silicone hit your pussy, you clenched around nothing and threw your head back against San's shoulder. An evident wail spilled past your lips, the pleasure of the vibrations immediately affecting your physical being.

"Feels good, baby?" San asked, knowing the obvious answer while still kneading your tits.

"Yes—shit." you swore, pressing the head of the wand more onto your clit. Usually, you would start with the lowest setting and gradually move to the highest to peak your orgasm, but having it immediately on high was a new feeling you had never experienced before.

Even San never set it instantly on high when he controlled it. Perhaps your boyfriend’s deviant cruelty wasn’t the worst, compared to what his friends seemed to have up their sleeves.

"You look so hot, Y/N." you could hear Jongho say this time, the one person you knew the longest out of the eight guys.

And for some reason, that made an evidently loud whimper come out of your throat, kneading and giving more friction between your clit and the vibrator.

Really, Jongho was the one to thank for your relationship. If he hadn't called San to pick him up that night, you wouldn't have met him. Perhaps sooner or later, since you were a good friend to Jongho. Though sooner was better than later.

You couldn't forget the look in San's eyes when he held out his hand for you to shake, the attractive beam that was his smile you adored, Jongho introducing him as 'Choi San,' his favorite (and only) Hyung from Namhae.

Frankly, you were stunned when San told you that Jongho was up for his crazy idea to have his friends watch him fuck you.

Unbeknownst to you, the reason why San wanted to do this wasn't that he tried to feed some fantasy he'd always had, but it was because of his bruised pride when his friends claimed that you seemed too “vanilla” to be able to follow his proclaimed, outwardly “kinky” self.

You weren't exactly "innocent" either, but you seemed like a saint compared to San and his sexual history. It was laughable, really, but not when you're already spilling sexual arousal all over your boyfriend's clothed crotch from the pleasure of the vibrator.

"You're such a fucking whore, already dripping onto daddy from just a few minutes of having your pretty cunt pleased." San taunted, now moving on from your breasts to hold open your faltering legs.

"I—It feels good." you conceded, "Feels really, really good daddy.”

"Glad to hear it, baby." Wooyoung cockily articulated, "You'll have to say when you're close, okay?"

"Okay." slightly breathless from the moans you had been letting out.

San could feel your back arching off his upper body, your nostrils letting out loud sighs from trying to reduce the volume of your laments, your hair slightly tickling his skin that wasn't covered by his shirt.

Your boyfriend always found you beautiful, whether when you were washing dishes with him and your hair was pinned up while your hands were covered with the thick pink rubber gloves.

Or whether it was when you dressed up for a date and you had makeup on that took almost an hour for you to do (which San knew took you a long time since you always put music on, and your 'jam sessions' always made it take longer).

But when you were under him in missionary, or even on top of him riding his cock, the expression you had contorted by bliss was his absolute favorite. He didn't care if your mascara smeared or if your hair clung to your forehead—he actually found it to make you look more beautiful as he fucked you raw, stretching your hole every time.

San was snapped back to reality from being mesmerized by your simple being when you stuttered out in the tone of voice he recognized all too well, "I'm close!"

"You wanna cum, angel?" Wooyoung asked, enjoying how you were writhing, and San had to physically keep you in place.

"Yes, yes, yes. Please~" you begged, the constant high setting making you lose your mind.

It was as if you could feel every nerve in your body reacting to the toy, making your mind feel hazy from the sensations. You let out a squeal when San put one of his hands atop yours, pushing the Hitachi further onto your clit, making you gasp aloud.

You could feel your wanton hole continuing to release your wet arousal, surely leaving a small stan on San’s crotch by now. A part of you felt embarrassed—humiliated from the way your body was subconsciously reacting, but that was the exact point of this punishment.

"Good..." he trailed, "Then, stop."

"Wha—what?" you asked, feeling genuinely high from the rapture.

"Stop." he repeated, now more stern than the first time. "Lift the wand off your pussy, turn it off, and set it down."

“Come on, sweetheart. Do as your told.” San tutted, despite pulling the vibrator out of your hands and turning it off, setting it back down on the table where it was before. Like he was ridiculing you.

You gulped, feeling more prone to the air conditioning’s breeze seeing that you were much more wet than before. Your now gleaming pussy was presented to the screen, your quivering eyes able to see its shine through the self-view because of the light reflecting off the drenching amount you had subconsciously produced.

“Your punishment’s not done yet, doll.” Yeosang piped up, his small grin showing the little canines he had. You always thought that he had pretty teeth, but seeing them this way reminded you that he wasn’t here as your friend today, but as another dominant.

“What … what else do I have to do?” you hesitatingly asked, twiddling with the ends of your shirt as San still kept your legs in place, spread upon like they all wanted.

“Hmm, it’s less about what you have to do, but rather more towards what you have to take.” Seonghwa quipped, the oldest man biting his tongue before continuing to speak again, “Right, Sannie?”

“That’s right~” your boyfriend cooed, placing his chin on your shoulder before laying a devastatingly sweet kiss on your neck, “Mingi, why don’t you do the honors of telling us what happens next?”

“My pleasure,” the man’s deep timbre evidently different than the rest, perhaps raising goosebumps on your skin from how attractive he sounded. Just like Wooyoung, he greeted you first, “Hello, pretty girl.”

“H—hi.” you responded, eyes locked on Mingi’s section of the screen, “Hi, Mingi.”

“Are you ready?” he waited for you to nod, which you did, “Great. So, what’s going to happen now is San’s going to finger that sinfully wet hole you call your cunt…”

His degrading comment making you clench around nothing, liking how his voice sounded as he continued to speak,

“But again, you won’t cum. You will not cum, and if you manage to obey our orders until your punishment is done, only then will San fuck that preciously tight hole of yours. Understood?”

“Will I get to cum then?” your question filled with actual concern, edging being your least favorite punishment to take.

“Of course. It’s only fair.”

You hated men sometimes, especially when they were so cocky about sex. However, you couldn’t give a solid argument when they were all already making you awfully flustered.

As you pursed your lips at Mingi’s words, absorbing the situation, San’s hot breath hit your ear once again. You could feel his lips moving from how close he was, soft and supple, juxtaposing the filth produced by his conscience.

“Keep that in mind, princess.” he chuckled, starting to circle your swollen clit from the vibrator, making you hitch, “Daddy and his friends are only going to let you cum if you can hold in your orgasm.”

“I… I can do it.” you didn’t know if you were telling yourself that or San, either way it was to reassure yourself that you could, in fact, do it.

“Okay~” without warning, at the end of the ‘okay’, he easily slipped two fingers into your previously empty pussy.

Using his ring and middle finger, San slowly began to teasingly move in and out of you, pleased by the whimpers coming out of your throat.

“You hear that?”

“H—hear what?” you cluelessly asked, not understanding what San was referencing to.

“This.”

Just as he said that, he repeatedly, and not so gently, moved his fingers in a come-hither motion, your special spot having been found easier than usual because of the vibrator use from before.

“Oh my—fuck.” you mewled, now understanding what he meant as your eyes slightly rolled back from the sudden bliss.

The squelching of your wet pussy was music to his ears, and to the seven other men eagerly watching, being one of his favorite sounds to hear whenever he fingered you. To say the least, Choi San was the closest thing you knew to a sexual deviant—an incubus.

“Don’t cum.” he commanded through gritted teeth.

“What a pretty pussy~” without looking, since you were too busy not being able to control your body’s trembling, you knew Hongjoong was the one making the compliment.

“It is, isn’t it?” San replied for you, his palm now being used to grind against your clit while still finger-fucking you, “And it’s all fucking mine. Who does this cunt belong to again, darling? I think you need to remind daddy.”

Little shit, you thought. If only this cocky asshole wasn’t such a good boyfriend who was the best sex you’ve ever had.

“Yours daddy!” you gasped out, unfortunately writhing as you badly needed to snap the knot in your abdomen, “A—all yours.”

“Don’t cum, sweetheart~” he reminded you once again, this time in a sing-songy tone that made you tense your jaw. “Ask nicely to daddy’s friends if you want me to stop. Or else I won’t stop at all and you’ll have to hold in your carnal desires.”

Swallowing the courage down your throat, you knew that would sound fucked out, but what did it matter anymore? Your orgasm and getting to have your boyfriend’s cock in you mattered more.

After all, you were Choi San’s personal slut.

“Pl—lease. I can’t handle thi—is anymore,” some of your words were elongated from a choked moan you tried to keep down, “Please, please I can’t handle daddy’s fingers any—any more. Can’t hold it in—ah—I’ll cum.”

“Awe, dollface, you can’t even get proper words out,” Seonghwa spoke, taunting you, “You really can’t take it anymore, huh? Can’t wait to get fucked stupid by your daddy?”

“Yes! Yes, fuck yes~” your pride now completely out the window.

“I think we should let her have Sannie now, don’t you all agree?” Wooyoung now asked, gleaming when the rest on screen nodded or simply smirked, “Alright, the agreement’s in your favor, angel.”

Purposefully slow, San pulled his fingers out of your pussy, making you squeeze around nothing at the sudden emptiness. You watched as he showed off his glistening hand to you and the screen, separating the two fingers that were just in you, causing you to see your own arousal stretch as it had coated his hand.

“Open.” San was referencing your mouth, which you understood immediately, seeing that you two had done something like this more than once.

Surrounding his fingers with your luscious lips, your sucking to get every drop off him was obnoxiously hot, making San smile as he silently thought ‘that’s my girl’.

As per usual, you kept the cum on your tongue. Turning your head slightly, one of your hands cupped San’s jaw as you batted your eyes, your mascara-painted lashes complimenting the faux innocence in them.

You stuck your tongue out, only a little bit, just enough for San to still be able to kiss you while sucking on it. As if collecting every bit, when he was done, he licked his lips and whispered to you,

“Always so sweet for me.”

A whispered, but still hearable “holy shit” came out of Jongho’s mouth, his eager eyes watching you both, amazed at the sheer raw and sexual connection that was being shown by the web cam.

“You want daddy’s cock, princess?” San asked once again, beginning to slightly buck up his hips, crotch still clothed and damp from your arousal.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Unzip me.” talking about his still zipped pants, which you quickly scrambled to smoothly undo with one hand, “Good girl, you can have it.”

With the same hand, you took his dick out, pleased by the bit of pre-cum that was clearly coating his tip, assuring you more, even with how agonizingly hard he already was, that San was having just as good of a time.

He was fully supporting your body, your other hand clutching onto one of the chair’s arms just incase. You took his hardened member and first rubbed against it, slicking it with your own cum like you were marking your rightful territory.

And after just a few pleasurable hits on your clit, you finally pulled back just enough to let the tip come in first, slowly, but in such a needy manner, sinking down San’s cock like you were dependent on it.

Like your pussy was molded and shaped for just his cock.

You let out a sigh of satisfaction, feeling like you were getting the fill you needed since the start. San was stretching you open just enough to make the pain melt with pleasure, feeling good like it usually did.

“Stay right there for a second, darling.”

And before you could register what San meant by that, your shirt was getting pulled over your tits, rolled up to your chest to reveal the rest of your body.

“God, those must be nice to play with, huh San?” Yunho half-jokingly remarked, enjoying the sight of your bare breasts, visibly scanning your body as his friend’s cock was filling you to the brim.

“Oh, surely they’re the best.” San spoke as if you weren’t there, “Absolutely love fucking myself between them. You should let me do that more often, Y/N.”

“San.” you slightly scolded, clearly distracted by the cock inside you. You were a tad worn out from the denied orgasms, but having your boyfriend at least start to fuck you was sure as hell making you stay aware.

This was what you wanted from the start. Ever since the first denial.

“Okay, darling. Give daddy a minute.”

You could feel San move his grip elsewhere, shifting his hands to the back of your knees, bending your legs towards your body.

From the new angle, you could his hips pushing rougher than before, cock reaching deeper, and you couldn’t help but gasp at the change.

“Shit.” you swore, the profanity serving as a sign that you were liking the feeling, your own hands moving to your tits to hold them.

“You’re squeezing awfully tight around me, sweetheart. Missed daddy’s cock that much?” the cocky tone oozing out of San’s lips, but it wasn’t like he was wrong anyway.

Not wanting any more delay, surely only wanting to have him pound you mindless, the words flowed out of your mouth like a mantra for all eight of the men;

“Missed daddy’s cock so, so much. Can’t wait for you to fuck me stupid, until the only things I can think about are daddy and his friends watching me desperately cum.”

“Goddamn, you don’t even talk this dirty with just the two of us.” San spat, liking this new attitude of yours, “My girlfriend’s that much of a whore to only get like this when daddy’s friends are around, huh?”

“Mhm~” you teased back, pushing on whatever inches were left exposed of San’s cock into your pussy, lips pouted as you spoke to taunt him, “After all, isn’t that what daddy likes about me?”

“You know exactly what to say to rile me up, baby.” he admitted, holding you tighter, “You better hope you can walk tomorrow, slut.”

And before you could register his words, San’s hips acted for him, having his body go absolutely feral, bucking into you with his cock like it was the first time he ever had a feel of your pussy.

Quicker than expected, your mind grew blank, taking in the man’s pounding like you wanted, only thinking of the moments of when his cock was out of you, and when it came back in to hit your g-spot.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

Deliciously devouring every inch of your hole, hitting just the edge of your cervix, and satisfyingly filling your walls.

The chair was creaking, making sounds just as much as the two of you were. Surely, the neighbors might complain again tomorrow, but you could blame it on one of your very aggressive sessions of ‘gameplay’.

“How the fuck is your cunt still so tight from the millions of times I’ve fucked you before, huh? Is your excitement to have my friends—shit,” cutting himself off from the pleasure, “To have my friends watch you making you do this?”

“Y—yes, m’such a cumslut.” you moaned, playing with the buds on your tits, adding to the intensity, “I like that daddy’s friends are watching me—fuck I wanna cum so bad.”

“You wanna cum?”

“So bad~” you whimpered, voice an octave higher from how it usually was.

“Grab the Hitachi.”

You did as told, leaning forward to take the toy from the table, where San had previously placed it.

“Turn it on high.”

“A—again?” you asked, clutching the object tightly, just a few centimeters away from your sopping cunt.

“What? Nervous we won’t let you cum again, sweetheart?” Hongjoong teased, making you slightly scoff.

“No. You promised I could.” your interjection putting a smirk on all of their faces.

“We didn’t say if you were allowed to stop cumming once you start though, princess.” San added, beginning to relentlessly fuck into you again, “Come on, put it on high and play with your clit while daddy fucks you.”

You nervously, still doing as told, switched the setting to high, the excessively loud and strong buzzing noise taking over your ears, paired with your boyfriend’s animalistic thrusting that was hard to concentrate with.

Already in a bliss, the second you placed the vibrator on you, you squeezed around San, causing him to chuckle and let out a swear from his own pleasure.

You were already close to cumming before, and it seemed that they all knew this would bring you even closer.

Your eyebrows knitted together, eyes unfocused from the sensations, tits and legs shaking from the overwhelming feelings. Though you didn’t notice, drool was beginning to make its way past the corner of your lips as your mind could only focus on the rhythmic bucking of San’s hips and the constant vibrations.

“You’re so pretty like that, baby.” Jongho complimented, “All fucked out and you haven’t even cum yet.”

“I—I want to!” you replied, implying your desire for your release.

“If you want to cum, you better say thank you to Jongho for calling you pretty. Don’t be rude, brat. I taught you better.”

“Holy sh—shit.” the words you spoke barely even sounding right at this point, slurred from the pure bliss of sex you were feeling, “Tha—ank you!”

“Good girl,” San managed to say, somewhat still keeping his composure. Surely, he was absolutely enjoying every inch of your pussy, getting wetter and tighter the closer you were to cumming, “God, you’re just getting closer and closer, aren’t you?”

“Please, can I cum? Please, please, plea—“

His command cut you off, but you were pleased by it. Finally taking in your pleads to consideration, after mocking and teasing you this whole time, San’s smiled with darkened eyes as he spoke directly into your ear,

“Cum.”

Barely gripping the Hitachi, your entire composure slipped when your toes curled, chest trembling as you clenched your jaw, a silent scream wanting to escape as your release took over your body.

However, as the wave of pleasure washed over your body, it took you only a few seconds to realize that San wasn’t stopping. That the wave you were feeling was only going to go over you a few more times until he wanted to stop.

San didn’t cum with you.

You were already starting to feel like you were in overdrive, having been denied orgasms and finally given one, the fact that he wasn’t stopping was making you more fucked out than you had anticipated.

And just as you were about to drop the Hitachi, your boyfriend sternly demanded from you once again,

“Drop that, and I won’t cum inside you.”

How dare he deny you of your favorite part? But that was exactly what he wanted you to think. What he wanted you to be motivated by to keep taking him, keeping that vibrator on you as well.

“T—too much. Too much.” you repeated, the nerves of your clit almost painfully reacting to the vibrator still being on you, even after your orgasm. You were swelling around San’s cock, your body not having even gotten over your first high.

“If it’s too much, say your safe word then, slut.” he taunted, knowing damn well you wouldn’t.

Knowing damn well, deep down, you were enjoying this so much you didn’t want the night to end.

“Fu—uck~” you mewled, almost like a cat in heat, drunk on his cock.

“Daddy’s gonna cum, yeah? You want that?” you nodded at his words, “Of course you fucking want that. You want me to fill you to the brim, don’t you baby?”

“Fuck yes, yes!” you had to admit, adoring the feeling of whenever San came inside you, his cum painting the walls of your cunt like it was meant only for that.

“That’s right, that’s my good fucking angel.” he grunted, his thrusts getting a bit sloppy, but not weakening by any means, “Holy shit.”

With the last swear passing his lips, and a gasp coming out of yours, you both came at the same time, San even biting your shoulder (in the same place he usually did) as he released inside you.

Both of you took deep breaths, San’s a bit shakier than yours as you turned the Hitachi off, his hands now carefully letting your legs down. He pulled your skirt and shirt down for you, covering your bare body with the clothes again, as if it helped in any way (it did, you appreciated the gesture).

This time, you could see that the two of you almost looked normal in the personal camera view, as if a girlfriend was just sitting on a boyfriend’s lap, perhaps slightly sweaty.

In a post-coital tone of voice, cock still in you as if he had something up, he rolled the chair forward to come near the screen as he said;

“Sorry boys, seems like round two’s gonna happen offline.”

tag list : @hwaist @eternalhongshine @enivivs @mistateez @jin-neck-shaft @choisandilf @p-sychosanhwa @humorusgisselle @xduygu-arsx @sleepychimm @sparklesmingi @strhwaberryios @sexyteddycjh @katsukisilkbonnet @nctflix @yeunnudesss-blog @smuttysannie @plumejun

unable to be tagged : @tropicrown @atznoona @disgurstangshiet @xheny10936 @hugsx-kisseso

Deliverance

summary: following your nephew's death, you find aemond in need of comfort. as his older sister, who are you to deny him?

pairing: aemond targaryen x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, canon typical incest, mentioned canon death, infidelity technically but reader's husband is cool with it and understands that she comes from a weirdo family cough cough incest cough, lactation kink, hurt/comfort, piv sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, titty sucking, angst but happy ending, otto cameo ew, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 7.4k

a/n: *slams fist on table* i need for him to suck on my boobie

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @feodor-dostoevsky

🦋my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Shall I fetch Maester Orwyle once we return to your chambers, Princess?” Your handmaiden, Edyth, questions as the two of you make your way up one of the many winding staircases in the Red Keep – each step making you wince. 

“Yes, please,” you sigh, ever grateful that she had always seemed to have a knack for predicting your requests before you had the chance to voice them, “Perhaps tell him to prepare some of the same soothing balm he gave to Helaena?” 

“Of course, Princess,” Edyth nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, ever the optimist, “I believe it should help with your aches, I remember it seemed to help the Queen after…” She trails off, breath hitching in her throat.

A heavy silence seems to fall over the two of you, the same that had been blanketing the entirety of the palace for the past few days. You swallow thickly, battling against the lump suddenly growing at the back of your throat and merely nod your head in simple understanding, offering her a tight-lipped smile, “I’m sure it will be of great help, Edyth, thank you.” 

Ever since… it had happened, the Red Keep feels as if it’s made of eggshells, like one small gust of wind could knock it right over. Everyone’s so on edge, terrified of saying too much or too little, the wrong thing at the wrong time. The stress of it all seems nearly suffocating, though you still have a feeling the worst was yet to come. 

Suddenly, someone calls your name from behind you and you turn, smiling once you see your grandsire striding toward you.

“A raven arrived earlier from Gwayne,” Otto explains, deep voice carrying down the empty hallway, “He’s reached Oldtown safely, everything seems to be well there.”

“Oh, wonderful,” you nod, grateful for news of your husband.

“Indeed,” he continues, “Daeron seems to be in good spirits, happy to come home; they’re to depart tomorrow, as scheduled… forgive me, I meant to tell you before supper but it seems to have slipped my mind.”

“Everything has been so hectic of late, please don’t trouble yourself. He arrived safely and will be back all the sooner for it, that is what matters.”

“Of course,” Otto nods, glancing out a nearby window, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve been ordered to attend to His Grace,” he says gruffly, a wry smile on his lips, nodding in the direction of Aegon’s chambers.

You nod at the mention of your twin, brows pinching together with worry. “Be… patient with him, grandsire, please,” you beseech, chest heaving with a soft sigh, “I spoke with him earlier this morning, he’s… well, he’s not himself.”

“Are any of us anymore, I wonder,” Otto mutters, fixing you with a tight smile before taking his leave, striding quickly down the hallway. Your brows furrow at that, you can’t help but throw Edyth a questioning look before the two of you continue toward your chambers. 

“Seven Hells,” you grumble, quickly bringing a hand to your breast as you climb another, blessedly shorter, set of stairs, “Perhaps check the nursery first, yes? Daena may be stirring still…” You know better, even as the words leave your lips. 

Your daughter has finally begun sleeping soundly through the night recently and while that is cause for celebration, you certainly won’t miss the past eight moons of late night feedings, your poor breasts are paying the price – your body not yet caught up with the lessened need for milk. 

“Yes, Princess,” Edyth replies with a little nod, walking alongside you.

The two of you are almost at your chambers, finally turning onto the hallway where the family apartments are housed, when you hear it – a muffled, barely there cry. The sound makes you pause in your tracks, head swiveling, unsure of exactly where it came from and it’s then you notice that the door to Aemond’s chambers is ajar. 

That in and of itself is strange indeed, your little brother valued privacy above all else, so you stride over only to pause at the entrance, hand poised midair as you reach for the door handle. Your heart clenches when another soft sob pierces the quiet of the hallway – a mournful little noise, one you’d expect more from Aegon. 

Turning back to Edyth, you lead her a few feet from the door, knowing Aemond would hate it if he knew someone, anyone aside from you, had overheard him. “Go to the nursery,” you instruct, making sure to keep your voice low, “Make sure Daena is well, then you’re free for the evening.” 

“But, princess, what about –”

“Nevermind it,” you murmur with a shake of your head, “I’ll send for the maester later myself.”

With a nod, she scampers off further down the hallway, leaving you alone by your brother’s door. Stepping back over toward the threshold, you bite at your bottom lip, wondering if you should go in at all – if it would be more merciful to simply pretend you hadn’t heard anything at all. 

But then it happens again, another pitiful sob sounds from beyond the cracked door and you’re unable to help yourself – Aemond had always come to you with his troubles when he was younger, surely now would be no different. With a little breath, you push the door open just enough to slip through it and thank whichever Gods may be listening when you’re able to press it closed with hardly a sound. 

Peeking around the screen your brother has beside the door, it feels as if your heart shatters in your chest. He looks so… small, so fragile, the complete opposite of the towering, formidable man he’d become in recent years. It’s clear he didn’t hear you come in as he stays seated in a chair near the door, his back to you; his shoulders shake with gentle cries while he hunches over, head cradled in his hands. 

The disarray of his normally spotless chambers startles you once you let your eyes flit over the space – papers are strewn about all across the low table he keeps in the little sitting area, some scattered across the floor, crumpled up, or ripped to pieces. His bedsheets are halfway ripped from the bed and lie in a pool at its foot, along with the remnants of a candle, now merely a translucent puddle on the dark stone floor. 

Taking a step forward, you softly call his name, trying your hardest to keep your voice as low and soft as possible, though you’re hardly able to get the first syllable out before he bolts up from the chair with a strangled gasp and spins toward you. 

“Oh, Aem,” the words fall past your lips in a soft sigh, pulled from you by the startled expression on his face – eyes wide with the fear of being caught so vulnerable. His sapphire eye seems to sparkle with just as much emotion as his pale purple one. 

“Sister, I –” He starts, hastily wiping his hands over his cheeks, chest heaving while he tries to calm his harsh breaths, but you’ll have none of that.

“Shh, whatever excuses you have, I’ll not hear them,” you murmur, quickly walking the few feet over to him and enveloping him in a tight embrace, just as you used to do when he would come crying to you about the tortures Aegon or your nephews put him through in their youth.

Your brother stays stiff in your arms for a moment, tense and wary, though he slowly relaxes as you rub a hand over his back, smoothing out his long hair. You yourself relax once he finally winds his long arms around you and rests his chin on your shoulder with a soft sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally releasing. 

“Tell me what distresses you so?”

“I… Jae– the boy,” he stammers, stumbling over his name. You understand, just saying your little nephew’s name seems to somehow make the pain of the loss even worse. Yet, something in your gut tells you there’s something else going on, that Jaehaerys’s death is not the only thing causing your brother such anguish.

“Aemond…” you gently press, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, “I cannot help if you won’t tell me–”

“Tell you what?” He counters, tone growing too defensive too quickly, “My nephew’s death brings me sorrow, sister. The loss of a young child is a… distressing thing.”

“You know that’s not what I mean!” You counter, trying desperately to keep your voice calm, even when Aemond backs away from you with an exasperated sigh. You’re no stranger to this game – ever since he lost his eye, your brother has guarded his emotions carefully. Getting him to speak honestly about them was about as hard as keeping a bottle of Dornish wine from Aegon’s grasp. 

He gives you a sidelong glance as he paces about the room, lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched. Worry only blooms brighter in your chest the longer you watch him; so agitated and so guarded, closed off like an abused animal. 

“It… it’s nothing,” he mumbles finally, voice short and clipped, “Nothing important, sister, I assure you.”

Unconsciously, you wring your hands worriedly, heart clenching; you want nothing more than to reach out and comfort him, yet you know from experience that it was better to let Aemond come to you. 

“Well, surely it cannot be nothing if it has upset you so, sweetling.” 

His nervous pacing comes to a screeching halt at that and he squeezes his eye shut, fists clenched at his side – his whole body tense like he’s trying desperately to keep some invisible dam within himself closed. 

You reach a hand up instinctively when he bites at his bottom lip and turns his head away from you, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. “I–,” he croaks, the tightness in his voice makes your breath hitch in your throat; every maternal cell in your body is screaming at you, pleading with you to hold him, “I don’t w-wish to burden you.”

“Baby brother,” you sigh, finally going to him, practically running the few feet over to where he stands. Your arms encircle him instantly, pulling him into a tight embrace – one hand rubs over his back while the other cups the back of his head, holding his face against the crook of your neck, “You could never be a burden to me, never.”

That seems to break him and he gasps, breathing warm against your neck, before he finally lets go and his shoulders heave with sobs while his hands cling to you desperately, fisting into the fabric of your gown like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. A tightness grows at the back of your own throat, not used to seeing him be this raw, this open, in what feels like lifetimes. It breaks your heart to think he’d been holding all of this in, determined to be the strong, silent soldier like everyone expected, while he dealt with such sadness all alone. 

“Shh, shh, Aemond, you’re okay,” you murmur gently, eyes widening when he sags against you, his knees giving way only for a second. “Here, come,” you instruct, taking one of his hands in yours and leading him to the small seating area in his chambers. You urge him to sit on the sofa he has there before joining him yourself, a bit surprised when he all but throws himself against you again – practically laying his head in your lap as he sobs, cheek pressed against your chest in a way that makes you wince from the tenderness still there, not that you’d ever scold him for it. 

“There, that’s much better, hm? Comfortable?” You ask, simply trying to draw him back to the surface. 

He doesn’t reply, something that doesn’t really come as a shock to you given how harsh his cries are, leaving him breathless against you. Deciding to let him get it out, you stay quiet, merely shushing him every so often as you run your fingers through his pearlescent hair.

After a long while, he seems to settle some and tears begin running down his cheeks silently rather than racking his body with savage cries; he lifts his head from your lap and rests it instead against your shoulder, gazing up at you as if you’re an angel sent from the heavens themselves. The intense tenderness with which he looks at you makes you blush, yet your brows furrow slightly at the darkness still there – lingering in the lilac of his eye. 

“I have… I have done something terrible.”

Your brother's murmured confession only serves to confuse you further and you shake your head slightly, heart clenching in your chest as you silently wonder what in all the Seven Kingdoms he could possibly mean by that. 

“Aemond,” you start, knowing not to pry – to let him tell you, “There is nothing you could ever do that would make me think any less of you.”

He stares up at you for a long moment, eye flicking across your face like he’s checking for even the barest hint of deception, yet he finds none – your words are true. 

“You… promise me you will not hate me.”

“I promise, sweet brother,” your brows pinch together at his words, wondering what could possibly be bad enough for all this, yet you can’t stop the corners of your lips from quirking into a sad smile at his request; that uncertain lilt in his voice reminds you so much of when he was younger, “There’s nothing you could do that would make me hate you. Nothing.”

“I…” He starts, pulling away from you as he sits up, sparing you one last glance before staring off into the fireplace, “I am the… the reason Jaehaerys is dead.”

“What?” The word is pressed from you, leaving your lips as little more than a breath. You stare at him as if he’d sprouted a second head, utterly perplexed. How in the Seven Hells could he have ever arrived at that conclusion? Taking one of his hands in yours, you lean a little closer, “Sweetling, what in the world do you mean?”

“They were here for me,” Aemond rasps, wincing as if the words themselves are painful, clawing at his throat on their way out, “They were… Gods, they were sent for me and – and when they couldn’t find me, they… H-He died because I was not here, because they could not f-find me…”

“Oh, my love,” you sigh, the backs of your eyes stinging as he presses himself against you again, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, “Aemond, you couldn’t have known, none of us did. You couldn’t have known…” You repeat, like saying the words again and again will make him believe them. 

“I s-should have,” he whimpers, voice breaking over a sob, “I should’ve k-known, I sh–should’ve been here…”

You hold him tightly, practically hauling him onto your lap as his tears leak over your skin, running into the valley of your cleavage like a river, though you pay it no mind. “Shh, sweetling, shh,” you murmur and press a soft kiss to his forehead, “It’s not your fault, dear one, it’s no one’s fault but the vile men who took him and our… our coward of a sister who ordered it done.”

He stays silent for a moment and you can feel the gears in his brain turning, working furiously as he tries to internalize your words, wanting desperately to believe them but unable to let himself. You sigh softly when you feel him shake his head against you, so determined to cling to guilt. 

“If… if I had n-not been at the…” 

“At the where, brother?” You press, clinging to anything you may be able to use to shift the conversation. 

“...The brothel…” he mumbles after a long pause, the words so muffled against the column of your neck that you have to strain to hear them. His words shock you, the complete opposite of anything you’d been expecting. You try your hardest not to let that show, even as a strange sense of jealousy wells up within you – a sense of possessiveness you’ve always felt for your little brother.

“Well, you… you are a man grown, my love,” you heart hammers in your chest, loud enough that you wonder if he can hear it, “If you wish to lay with–”

“I didn’t… I–” He stammers, clinging to you tightly as he shakes his head, an urgency in his voice you can’t quite place, “That’s not what, I… I mean, I–”

“No matter,” you cut him off, aching to see him so distressed, “Whatever you do there, sweet brother, it’s your… right to do it.” You struggle to get the words out, the sense of protectiveness rising viciously in your chest makes your throat feel tight. 

He lifts his head from your shoulder again and eyes you for a long moment – for what, you aren’t sure. It’s almost like he’s surprised not to be meant with disgust or contempt; you wish you knew why.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally mumbles, glancing away from you, ashamed, “I should’ve been home… I should’ve been here to protect my family.”

“Aemond, please,” you sigh and sit up slightly, moving to cup his cheeks in your hands, wiping at his tears with your thumb, “It is not your job to protect us, we have guards for a reason… if anything, this atrocity is their fault but it is not yours, do you understand?” Your eyes bore into his as you speak, desperate to make him understand, to rid him of this misplaced guilt. 

“Do… do you still love me?” He asks after a long moment, voice so timid, so meek like he’s already preparing himself for your rejection, that it makes your heart twist horribly in your chest. 

Still, you cannot help but huff out a little laugh, lips lifting into a sad smile at the utter ridiculousness of the question. “You are my dearest brother,” you murmur, leaning forward to press a kiss against his forehead, letting your lips linger on his skin for a second, “Of course, I still love you, Aemond. I have loved you from the moment you came into this world and I shall never, never stop – the Gods themselves could not make me.”

The two of you are quiet for a moment, save for a small hum from your brother as he nods. His arms encircle you again and selfishly, you enjoy it – being this close to him again, like he was a little boy once more. He’d been all but attached to you at the hip before that dreadful night, following you about the Keep and telling you all sorts of tales about various histories of the Realm in that sweet voice of his. 

All of that had stopped that night and, at first, you had assumed that he merely thought himself a man grown afterwards – a man who had finally claimed a dragon, a man who no longer needed comfort from an older sibling. The sadness in his voice when he speaks again, muffled against your shoulder, tells you otherwise.

“Mother doesn’t love me anymore,” his voice is flat and detached as he breathes out the words, like he’s informing you of some tragic, unavoidable accident. 

“Aem, of course she does. She loves you very–”

“No,” he cuts you off, sitting up once more and shaking his head, “Ever since that business with Luke, I… she can hardly bring herself to look at me. She won’t speak to me outside of Small Council meetings and even then she tries not to, ‘tis plain to see.”

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes, leaving you to swallow around the lump that grows at the back of your throat once again. What are you to say? He’s… Gods, bless him, he’s right, you’ve seen as much to know. 

“You are the only one who has never abandoned me,” he starts, eye sparkling in the candlelight as tears begin welling up within it once more, “Everyone else has left.”

“That’s not…” Your voice fades as you sigh, knowing that arguing with him now will do no good. Instead, you simply hold him tighter and brush a few stray locks of hair from his face. “I can promise that I shall never leave you, sweet brother.”

He grows quiet for a moment, slumping down against you until his head rests in your lap and his body curls up onto the sofa. Silently, you resist the urge to cradle him, to hold him against you as you do Daena when she wakes from a nap with a start, crying out from her cradle. 

He is a grown man, you remind yourself, yet it does nothing to stop the strange ache in your heart. 

“They all used to taunt me, surely you remember, when we were younger,” he mumbles, eye fixated on the fire crackling in the hearth, even as he clings to you, “First for not having a dragon, then for not having an eye.”

You hum in affirmation – you do remember it, sadly. You remember it all very well; he had slept in your chambers for a week after the incident with the pig, not wanting to be left alone at night with the memories of it. You remember having to hold him back at the table when Aegon had poked fun at his eyepatch during supper, about a month after his eye had been gouged out. 

You remember that night too, when he’d come to you with tearful apologies, murmuring sorries again and again for accidentally nicking your hand while trying to brandish a knife against his brother. 

“I have always been an outcast.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips despite the circumstances and you sigh softly, brushing your fingers through his long strands of hair, “I quite like you being different… perhaps if you weren’t, we wouldn’t be as close, hm?”

Aemond goes quiet at that, stills in your lap with a little sigh before simply burrowing against you even more, curling in on himself tighter. 

A soft coo leaves your lips, strands of his long hair passing between your fingers like silk. “What say you stay with me tonight, yes?” You offer, the thought of him in the dark carrying all this alone grief makes you feel ill, “We could even cuddle, if you like? Just as we did when you were younger.”

A short beat of silence later, all you get is a little, “Yes, please,” mumbled against your abdomen. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs later, the two of you finally lying together atop your bed, cuddled closely against one another just as you’d promised. You’d each taken time to get ready for bed and Aemond seems a little better for it, no longer as distressed and teary now that he’s had the time to collect himself. 

Your hand carefully cups the side of his face that isn’t pressed against your pillow, that isn’t buried in the crook of your neck, as an astonished huff of laughter escapes your lips as they curve into a sad smile, your brows furrowed. “Why in the world would you think such things?” Even as the question is whispered into the quiet of your chambers, you know the answer – Aemond has always been this way, always one to reject comfort, even when it is so freely given, even when he himself seeks it out. 

If only he could see himself as you do. 

“I… I have done so many shameful things, sister, I…” His voice breaks when he cuts himself off and you can feel him tense in your hold, “‘Tis the simple truth, I don’t deserve you.”

You hum softly, combing your fingers through his hair while you mull over his words, silently wondering why he has always been like this – why you have always felt so unworthy of softness and kindness and love. 

“Well, it is not my truth,” you murmur after a moment, eyes flicking over the long line of his body, hidden by your silken bedsheets. In the time each of you had taken to ready yourselves for bed, you had changed into a nightgown and he into a simple nightshirt, leaving your bare legs to tangle together, “Would you like to know what I think, my love?”

You feel him inhale against the crook of your neck, sucking in air like he’s steeling himself for disappointment, yet he still lifts his head and peers up at you. His lilac eye searches your face for a long moment, looking for even the smallest indication of displeasure in your features, only to find none. 

Seemingly satisfied with his assessment, assured that surely whatever you were to say would not hurt him too badly, he nods. 

Sitting up just enough to better see his face, you look at him with nothing but adoration as the two of you rest shoulder to shoulder, backs against the headboard. “I believe you deserve every kindness in the world, Aemond. And I believe even that would be too little,” your voice is hardly a whisper when you speak, like this is the deepest of secrets meant only for his ears, “You deserve nothing but happiness, sweet baby brother.”

He stares at you for a long moment, eye wide and glassy while his chest aches as your words seep into him like a soothing balm. You can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows, eye squeezing shut for a moment while he processes your words – so sweet they nearly stung. 

A soft coo bubbles from your lips when you see his chest rise and fall rapidly beneath the linen of his nightshirt, and you lean into him all the more when one of his hands reaches out and grabs one of your own, squeezing it like it’s a lifeline. 

“Shh,” you soothe, giving him a sad smile when his eye finally opens again, gaze immediately finding yours, “Sweet boy.”

He lets out a shuddering breath before looking away from you once again, mind reeling. Not knowing what to do, overcome with so much emotion his heart feels as if it’s adrift at sea, he brings your hand up and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles before holding it to his cheek and sucking in another little breath as his bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t ever leave me,” he whispers finally, voice tight and hoarse. 

Cupping his face, you caress your thumb over the scar beneath his eye softly and lean over just enough to press a soft kiss against his cheek. “I will never leave you, Aemond, I swear it.”

He shudders once more before letting out a shaky breath, eye filled with a wild desperation. Before you can register the movement, his hands are suddenly gripping at your waist and hauling you onto his lap, your legs on either side of his, as he buries his face into the crook of your neck once more, apologies already muffled against your skin. “I-I’m sorry, I – Gwayne will… will hate me but –”

“Shh, sh, sh, sweetling,” you murmur, despite the small, barely audible gasp that leaves you at the sudden movement, so wholly unused to this as half of you tries desperately to comfort you while the other half wonders if you should put a stop to this, “Gwayne knows, my love, he… it’s okay, he knows.”

A sob is wrenched from Aemond’s lips, warm against your neck, but he nods nonetheless, sighing when you begin carding your fingers through his hair once more, smoothing out the long, pale strands. Slowly, he relaxes again, arms wound securely around your waist while his breath evens out. 

You’re about to say something else, though your breath hitches in your throat when he begins peppering your neck with soft, chaste little kisses – feather-light down the column of your neck. He stops after a second, noticing you tense up on his lap, eyes wide as a million thoughts swirl in your mind: Is this okay? Should you stop this? This is your precious baby brother, the one who used to cling to your skirts when he was sad, who used to come to you in the night when he woke from a nightmare… 

He leans forward once more and nips at your earlobe, making your heart stutter in your chest, “Can… can I try something?”

Your head reels at the sudden change in his touches, needier now, though for an entirely different reason, yet still your mind reels – piqued with curiosity. “What is it you wish to try?” You question after a moment, voice scratchy from the sudden dryness at the back of your throat. 

Silently, Aemond relishes this; something about you, you his normally strong and carefree older sister, being this flustered because of him makes his heart flutter in his chest. Dipping his head, he resumes pressing soft kisses against your skin, though they linger now – teeth nipping before he soothes the small bites with a swipe of his tongue, drawing ever closer to the pulse point in your neck that beats so wildly he can feel it beneath your skin. 

“Aemond!” You all but wheeze when he suddenly grabs at your hips, his own firmly bucking up against you. A shock goes down your spine at the evidence of his arousal pressing against you, two thin layers of fabric doing precious little to mask the feel of it. Again, you tense up, practically jumping out of your skin as you pull back just enough to gaze down at him, your eyes wide, blinking rapidly, as they search his. 

This was the last thing you expected tonight, the last thing you’d expect from him at all. “Wha – I…” You stammer, dumbstruck while worry and uncertainty cloud your mind. 

Aemond shushes you now, long fingers squeezing at your bare thighs now that your nightgown has ridden up enough to reveal them. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs soothingly against your skin, “Do you trust me…?”

Your throat bobs as you swallow thickly, heart hammering in your chest. You should be the one comforting him… what in the Seven Hells has happened? Is… is this the comfort he needs now?

Even still, you nod your head at his question; of course you trust him, you’d trust him with anything… even this. 

A smile grows on his lips when you acquiesce, a pleased glimmer in his eye when he lifts his hands to your hips again, his grip firmer this time. “Good… good, sweet sister,” he hums lowly, rutting his hips up against you once more, lilac eye watching you with keen interest. 

“A-Aem…” You gasp once more, the feel of him against you so intense it sends a shiver down your spine, even when your brows furrow as your eyes flutter, threatening to slip shut. His movements press a small whimper from your lips and you can feel the sting in your cheeks as they flush, chest heaving while your hands grab tightly at his shoulders. 

The smug look on his face slowly morphs into one of wonder and his eye flits over your face greedily, like he doesn’t want to miss a single second of seeing you like this – already so strung out over him. 

He moves again, the feeling of your soft core pressing against his growing length through the thin linen only serving to drive his urges further. “Gods, you look so beautiful like this…” He murmurs, in awe at having you like this, and all to himself. Unable to help himself, he leans forward yet again and pulls you closer as his lips settle once more against your neck. 

Instinctually, your head tilts to the side, giving him room to kiss over your skin. His movements against you cause you to shiver in his grasp, even if a small part of you was still uncertain, hoping this wouldn’t change your relationship with him for the worse. 

The slow grind of his hips causes his nightshirt to eventually ride up his legs as well, and you gasp anew, jumping once more when his length suddenly presses against your center, unhindered by fabric. 

“Feel what you do to me?” He purrs, letting out a low groan of his own. 

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, lips parted ever so slightly while your chest heaves, silently wondering if this is truly happening. Almost imperceptibly, you nod your head, shuddering at the feeling of his cock pressed against you, already twitching. 

“L-Little brother,” you gasp, breathless already.

Aemond smirks at your response, your whimpers and soft gasps going right to his head. He grabs at your waist still, bucking against you in slow, almost teasing movements. A low, pleased hum vibrates him in his chest when he feels how wet you are against him – the heat radiating from your center nearly stifling. 

The longer this goes on, the more you can feel your resolve crumbling, any small bits left of you that wanted to put a stop to this slowly fading away. Distantly, you can’t help wondering if this is how it’s always been meant to be, if this was the only logical conclusion your paths could reach, the outcome of such a close bond. Perhaps, you have always been made for this. 

“Aemond,” his name falls from your lips in a soft sigh and you finally lean against him heavily, pressing your chest against his unthinkingly. “Shit!” You gasp only a second later, jolting as if stung by a bee, brought back to reality by the ache in your breasts. 

“Sister?” Aemond questions, freezing beneath you while he looks over your face, his hands rising to cup your cheeks protectively. 

You start to answer, to explain, when you feel a sudden tingling sensation at your chest and, judging from the look on your brother’s face, an explanation would be a moot point by now anyway.

“Gods grant me mercy,” he sighs, eye wider than you’ve ever seen it as he stares, near open-mouthed, at your chest. Glancing down, your cheeks flush at the sight of milk dampening the linen at your breasts, leaving it all but translucent. 

Again, you go to explain, only to stop yourself in your tracks when his tongue darts out, licking over his bottom lip. Your head spins when you notice his chest heaving as he stares at you with a nearly savage hunger, eyes fixed on your breasts like his universe has been narrowed down to a pinpoint. 

“Aemond?”

“Please,” he groans, swallowing thickly and licking over his lips once more, practically salivating. His eye flicks up to yours for only the briefest of seconds before zeroing in on your chest once more, “Sweet… sweet sister, please.”

Again, the energy in the room seems to shift, Aemond once again begging you for comfort, bowing to your whims. Quickly, you shush him while one hand threads into his hair once more as you bring his head back against the crook of your neck, settling him there while he groans against your skin, rough hands slowly trailing up your waist before halting at your ribs. 

Your other hand busies itself with snaking between the two of you and impatiently batting your clothes away before your fingers finally curl around his length, causing the both of you to let out soft cries. 

“Shh, sweetling,” you coo, chest heaving while you position him at your entrance, sighing as he desperately mouths at your neck, “I know what you need, I’ve got you.”

Again, twin moans fill your dimly lit chambers when you slowly sink down on him. Whimpers are punched from your lungs at the feel of him steadily filling you, his chest rumbling against yours as he groans deeply, hips jolting beneath you. 

“Gods,” you sigh when your hips are finally pressed tightly against his once more, panting and letting your eyes fall shut while you give yourself a moment to adjust. 

The feel of him borders on overwhelming – pressed so tightly inside of you, around you, the very air in your room filled with the heady, herbaceous scent of the bath oils you know he favors. You imagine he must feel the same as he trembles beneath you, fingers and hips twitching with barely contained desire. 

Finally, your need to comfort him, to protect him even from himself, rears its head again and you relish the breathy sigh that leaves him as you begin to move your hips. It’s a grinding motion, soft and gentle – what he needs now, to be treated with care. Still, the movements send shockwaves up your spine as the pale hairs at the base of his cock rub perfectly against your pearl, creating a delicious friction to spur you on. 

“So good,” he breathes, warm against your shoulder as he leans forward, kissing at your neck, “You feel so good, sister, you… you are s-so good to me…”

“Just as you deserve,” you murmur, combing your fingers through his long hair once more before your hands travel down to the hem of his nightshirt and you begin impatiently tugging at it, pulling it over his head and grinning at the soft, nearly petulant, whine he gives at having to separate from you even for a second. 

Still, some instinctual force seems to drive you, a need to feel his skin against your own, and you waste no time before pulling your own nightgown up and over your head as well, leaving nothing to separate the two of you. 

The groan that leaves him when your chest presses back against his own once more is like nothing you’ve heard before – a sound of the purest relief, like he’s found some oasis in the desert. His eye opens again and the rhythm of your hips stutters only for a second once it finds yours. The lilac is almost completely overtaken by black and yet, he still regards you as if you are an angel sent from the heavens themselves, stares at you with such reverence that your heart flutters in your chest. 

Something clicks for you then as he whimpers beneath you, his own hips beginning to buck up against your own as the lazy tempo you’ve settled into slowly starts to pick up. You understand, now, that this is merely another step, an added turn, in the so carefully balanced dance the two of you have constructed.

And if this is what he needs to be comforted, then you’re more than happy to give it. 

“My good boy,” sigh, moving against him with renewed vigor, grinning when he lets out a hitched moan, “Is this what you needed?”

“Yes, y-yes,” he nods, his eye never leaving your own as he ruts beneath you, the choppy movements only adding to the fire slowly building within your veins, “Please, sweet sister, please…”

You don’t need to ask to know what it is he means, nodding before he has time to stutter out another word, “Take what you need, my love.”

Another breathy groan sounds from him as he quickly descends onto your chest, tilting his head down and immediately capturing your sensitive nipple between his lips, one hand coming up to gently cup your breast, holding it steady. The feeling of relief that flows through you when he starts suckling is nearly disorienting, the dull ache in your breast slowly fading away with each mouthful of milk he pulls from you, greedily taking a few mouthfuls from one breast before switching to the other.

Your fingers stay anchored in his hair while your hips work against him, your high building more steadily within you now that your breasts no longer feel ready to burst. You pant as you gaze down at him, eyes half-lidded while you watch his lips move against you, lilac eye still fixated on you. 

Below you, Aemond is halfway convinced he’s died and somehow the Gods have seen fit to spare him the Seven Hells. His head spins as he drinks from you, the taste of you by far the sweetest, most decadent thing he could fathom. As the knot in his belly grows ever-tighter, his suckles become more greedy, frantic, not knowing whether you’ll allow him this pleasure ever again. 

“Please, f-fuck,” he sighs, the words punched from his lips as he pulls away from you just enough to speak, uncaring as dribbles of milk leak from the corners of his lips, staining your skin. His hips practically move on their own accord as he mindlessly grinds up into you, seeking out the warmth and safety he knows he shall only ever feel within you. 

Above him, you nod, swallowing thickly against the dryness at the back of your throat, cheeks flushed while you watch him unravel. Snaking a hand between your bodies once more, your fingers quickly find your sensitive, aching bud and rubbing at it with a practiced precision. 

“Gods, sweet little brother,” you breathe out, pleasure zapping down your spine. You frantically nod again, frantic this time, just as your high washes over you, “Come, Aemond… Gods, let go, little one.”

His suckles turn more into little biting nips while he gasps against you, trembling beneath you when he finally lets pleasure overtake him – eye squeezing shut at the feel of your walls clenching tightly around his cock. 

The warmth of him filling you only spurs you on more, your breaths ragged against his forehead while you feel yourself tense and relax again and again, grabbing at whatever parts of him you can reach. 

You each go still after a few moments, panting against each other. Aemond is practically limp beneath you, lazily nuzzling his face against your chest, satiated smile just barely tugging at the corners of his lips. Chuckling softly, you pepper his forehead in sweet kisses, relishing the contented hum he gives in return. 

When you go to get up however, intent on fetching a cloth to clean you both up with, he reaches for you with a small whine as he grabs at your thighs.

“Don’t, please,” he murmurs, brows furrowed when your eyes meet, “Stay…”

“You… you want to stay like this?” You question, your heartbeat quickening as he quickly nods, “You wish to stay –”

“Inside,” he finishes quickly, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows bashfully, cheeks flushed, “I… I feel safe like… like this.”

“Then you can stay, silly boy,” you answer with a grin, kissing at his forehead once more, “Here, let’s just…” You murmur, tilting your hips to the side ever so slightly, attempting to pull him with you.

Blessedly, he seems to understand and follows you willingly, allowing you to maneuver the two of you onto your sides. After a moment, you’re comfortable once more, each of you lying on your side and facing the other, one of your legs slung over his narrow hips to keep him pressed tightly within you. 

“Good boy,” you sigh softly, smiling when he shivers against you. 

The two of you stay like that for a while, your hands gently caressing his soft skin or running through his hair while you hold him against you. After a while, his lilac eye finally flutters closed and you can’t help but marvel at how much younger he looks like this – relaxed and spent while he lies against you, like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. 

After a while, he seems to grow restless again, nosing at your chest until he finds what he desires. You sigh softly as he pulls a nipple into his mouth once more, suckling at it contentedly while he peers up at you sleepily. 

“There you go,” you murmur soothingly, coaxing him to lift his head just enough for you to lay an arm beneath it, allowing you to caress his shoulders while your other hand cups gently at the side of his face, thumb sweeping over his soft skin. “Take what you need, sweet one,” you coo, smiling as he quickly returns his lips to your breast, “You’re safe, I’ve got you…”

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

consider adding yourself to my tag list or check out my works on ao3!

This isn't just about one time. This look represents a lifetime for Aemond.

Just wanted to say that I’m waiting for the Gwayne Hightower x Targaryen reader fics to drop !!

GAYLE RANKIN as ALYS RIVERS | House of the Dragon S2E3

Devotion

Summary: You are a Targaryen princess with an infatuation on a certain White Cloak. Paring: Ser Erryk Cargyll x Targaryen!Reader Word Count: 5.7k+ Warnings: AFAB Reader, neglect, angst, unrequited love?, kissing, fingering, unprotected p in v, more angst, oral sex (m and f receiving), a mother's reprimand, lots of blood, death, more angst Author’s Note: Thank you my beloved beta reader @zaldritzosrose for looking this over and helping me this story. I Mushroom-tweaked it to fit the angsty plot. This started as an anon request and unfolded into so much more. It is dedicated to my darling @opheliax98 who encouraged "all the drama" of this piece. I hope it you enjoy it. 💜 You can also read it on ao3.

Your mother decided that you would return to the Red Keep as an envoy, because of your ability to hide in plain sight despite the poisoned word that first followed your steps–ilībōños, bastard. It was the same that was thrown towards your half-brothers, but with a tone as bold as their brown curls and brown eyes; they did not have the fortune of their Valyrian roots to hide under, their features often speculated as too Strong. 

You, however, were the first, albeit illegitimate, born of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen, conceived the same night that her virtue was called into question. 

There was a bitter speculation of your origins that faded away with your birth; you were another nameless Targaryen princess that would decorate the family tapestry, another egg that turned to stone in the crib. Life in the capitol was lonely for you; your father was away in Pentos with his new family, while your mother remained preoccupied with her White Cloak, and then her Gold Cloak and new husband. There was an age gap between you and your brothers, your nephews and your niece, and it was an isolating chasm that placed you as an outsider, a spectator, with the unfocused eyes of the court looking through you. 

Your only company was your handmaiden, Elinda, but her loyalties reported back to your mother, and then your Septa, but her complaints were ceaseless, especially as you learned the pathways that Maegor the Cruel had carved into the Keep; they became your escape from her lessons. 

It was then your mother requested a knight from the Kingsguard to watch over you, and you mourned the little bit of independence acquired, assuming you would be assigned someone old, doddy, who served as another set of eyes that would only look through you. 

You were not expecting Ser Erryk Cargyll. 

To begin, he was only three years older than you–it was said his swordsmanship so impressed the Lord Commander that he also recruited his twin brother, bringing them both to King's Landing to serve in the Kingsguard. He was handsome, standing tall behind your mother, long and lithe. His ruddy complexion brought out the blue-gray of his eyes that showed unsure, almost shy with the introductions. 

You smiled at him and his lips curled upwards in response, a rose dusting to his cheeks. 

You liked him at once.

He was devoted to your shadow, almost rapt to your beck and call. The attention fed your girlish infatuation with the young knight, and you were always teasing him in a way that teetered on the edge of his duty and his oath with your coy questions and smirk. Ser Erryk was rarely rattled by you, but seemed more amused–he would answer you with a frank tone, a welcomed honesty, that ended with your title: it was always, “Yes, princess,” or “I shall see to it, princess.” 

It continued on for months until one evening, as he escorted you to your room, you asked him to call you by your name, to set aside the formality. You saw the brilliant blue of his eyes, bright amongst the flush of his features; his tongue wet his lips, searching for his voice. “I could never do that, princess,” he started slowly, his eyes flickering up again to look at you as if for the first time. You saw the dust of his freckles that burned bright against his skin. “My purpose is to keep you safe.” 

His voice was low, so serious, and it made your blood rise to the surface. You tried to laugh it off. “My purpose is to wait around until I am able to marry the highest bidder.” It was something that weighed heavy on your heart; your eyes fell away and your fingers grasped into the fabric of your skirts. “I know I will not be missed within these walls once I am gone.” 

“That’s not true, princess.” 

It startled you, and you peered back up from underneath your lashes, your heart vibrating against your skin. You watched Ser Erryk choke on his boldness, his regret knotting into his face before he settled on silence. You watched him go, the muted ensemble of his armor as he returned to the barracks below. 

That moment created something palpable that pressed overhead. You were too young, too rash to even know how to tactfully touch the subject again. The forced return to your norm left your bones aching; Ser Erryk doted on your steps, and you rambled on to drown out the incessant screaming of your heart within your chest. 

It spilled over at Driftmark. Your family went for the Velaryon funeral procession for Daemon’s wife, feeding further into the resentment that rifted within the house of the dragon. You slipped away and found Aegon in his cups, deciding to steal some of the liquid courage. When Ser Erryk found you, your eyes were glassy and your cheeks flushed. 

He sighed, shaking his head, reaching to help you stand, but you swore you saw the hint of a smile touching his lips. Ser Erryk said nothing, but wrapped his arm around your waist and matched his gait with your staggered steps to your room. You rested your head on his shoulders, enjoyed his smell of olive oil used on his sword and how it mixed with his perspiration. 

At the door, you felt his breath tickle your ear, “I will not speak of this to the crowned princess, but you should get some rest–” 

You spun to face him, your hands pushing on his breastplate to steady yourself on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to meet with his. Ser Erryk froze with your kiss, his White Cloak tightening like a vice. His palms were rough, but he was gentle to wrap your elbows and pull you back, his gaze rooting you to cobblestone. 

Moments ticked away with your beating heart that was now bruising against your bones before he finally said, “I cannot give you what you truly deserve, princess.” 

He said nothing else and your embarrassment fed the fire in your blood. You pulled away from him and slipped into your room, careful to close your door. Your back pressed against the carvings of sea creatures into the oak and you melted to the floor, your tears spilling to ease your girlish heartache. 

Elsewhere on the island, a dragon was claimed and bloodshed followed. The walls rattled as the king proclaimed his true loyalty and it ended with you being whisked away to Dragonstone. It was for the best, you decided, to leave your broken heart behind. You felt the tinge of hope when you learned that your mother and your father were finally together, and decided to set aside your infatuation of the White Cloak, but instead focus to aid your mother, to help solidify what your grandsire, King Viserys, had proclaimed to the Seven Realms. 

That she was to be queen. 

It had been six years since you last been at King’s Landing. It was now a place both familiar and strange. The same architecture rose above, shadowing over Blackwater Bay, though inside your ancestry of Old Valyria had been replaced, the Keep becoming a shrine to the new gods who had not yet paid their dues for such a show of devotion. 

As you entered through the Barbican, you smirked at the memory of the girl you were before, only ten and five, on the cusp of womanhood that required your gowns to be stitched to fit your slender frame. Now your figure filled your dresses, your curves pressing to the seams and your hair twisted and styled to showcase the dragonblood in your veins, that shined in the amethyst of your eyes. 

The queen was first to come and greet you. The handmaidens selected were controlled by Elinda, who watched their flurry to unpack. You looked up to see her lips pursed, her dark brown eyes washed over like you were a specter coming to haunt, like she wished for the earth to swallow you whole. 

“It has been requested–” her tone was queenly, but you noted that she would not mention how it was your mother that penned her a letter, “–for you to have a knight assigned. I was advised that Ser Erryk has served this role before.” 

His name caused your blood to roar in your head as you turned to watch him enter the room. Ser Erryk seemed taller, or perhaps that was how he now held himself, his pride set on his shoulders and onto his features that sharpened. He was still sinewy, though he seemed to fill out the armor hammered to fit his frame, polished and gleaming in the sun that streaked through; it burned bright in his copper hair that was brushed back to show his beard trimmed to fit his jaw. 

The coloring brought out his blue-gray eyes that shined almost unsure, almost shy. 

It kindled something within you that you believed to be gone, a feeling that washed away on the shores of Dragonstone and swept to the depths of the bay, buried in the sand. 

Ser Erryk looked at you and you could not help your smile. His lips ticked upwards and you felt your pulse flutter anew, seizing your heart again. 

Your iron-clad shadow followed after your steps, a devotion renewed, and it returned the muscle memory of his constant and comforting presence as you reacquainted with the old castle. Ser Erryk accompanied your rounds to visit with Helaena and her children, watching your brief exchange with each prince, and even briefer with the king who smiled when he called you Rhaenyra. Your knight then escorted you back to your room without a word, just the chink of his armor with his steps, echoing off the stone. 

You paused in the doorway, looking back to see his stance. As he watched you, your mind flittered with words but none could knit together. “Sleep well, princess,” he finally spoke with a small bow, excusing himself. 

The room had also been stripped of your Targaryen history, almost unfamiliar despite your chests unpacked. Elinda and the other handmaidens helped prepare you for bed, and a cup of wine was poured but your stomach would not hold it down. They left you alone and your quarters were now a gilded cage to contain you; you pulled on your pale, silk robe and finished half of the goblet, summoning your old courage to slip away.

The same panel opened with ease, but inside, basked in the amber light of torch set in a sconce, stood Ser Erryk with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Your mouth fell open and he grinned at you. “I take my oath with my heart, princess,” he reminded you. 

“How did you know–?” You stammered, licking the wine from your lips. 

He only shrugged, his eyes glittering in the fire. “You seem so very different, but also are still the same.” 

You pulled the panel closed to silence his chuckle. You finished the rest of the wine poured and returned to your bed.  

Your days at Kings Landing were idly filled. Your old Septa returned with her scrutiny of the woman you had become, her brow furrowing to find fault as you showcased your refinement of a lady mastered over the last half decade. Your afternoons were spent in the company of Helaena and her children, the only ones welcoming your return, with the littlest one, Maelor, especially taken with you. 

The time was spent in the gardens with a blanket sprawled out. Helaena would hum songs while the twins played their games. Maelor was content to sit in your lap, his eyes wide to discover whatever came within his chubby grasp. 

And Ser Erryk, your shadow, would stay close by, always. 

“He will draw his own blood to protect you.” The princess spoke suddenly, jarringly–it was a common happenstance with Helaena, you learned. Her every impertinent thought spilled off her tongue in riddles. 

Maelor’s eyes widened with his beginning grasp of the spoken word. You blew a raspberry onto his cheek to distract him, and he fell into a fit of giggles. “He would draw blood, but only if it was needed,” you corrected her, your voice low. 

Helaena only hummed in response, falling back into whatever song as she looked over the flowers that surrounded you both, watching the insects that lived amongst them. Her words remained with you, echoing in your head long after the moon began its silver stretch overhead. It guided your steps back to the panel in your room and you pushed it open. 

Ser Erryk straightened at once, his hand back on his pommel. “Princess? Why are you still–” 

You stopped him with a gentle touch on his breastplate, steadying yourself to rise on the balls of your feet until your lips pressed to his once again. But this time he responded, melting against–his lips were soft and warm, and his beard tickled your skin. 

You fell flat-footed to the floor with a smile spreading across your face; he was enraptured to watch the words that spilled from your lips. “I thought I had forgotten that night at Driftmark, but it seems what you said has embedded into my bones.” You felt light-headed, but also embolden by his gaze and the black that swallowed his murky cobalt eyes. “You once said that you could not give me what I deserved, but did you ever think you could give me what I want, what I desire?” 

It was a dam broken and he surged against you, pressing until your back touched the other side of the corridor. He reclaimed your mouth with a honeyed fervor that warmed your blood. Your fingers pull away the tie that held back his hair and combed through his silky copper spill. His fingers bruised into your hips, holding on as if you would slip away. 

You broke the kiss, breathless, your fingers knitting with his own and pulling him back into your room. It was a quiet exchange, littered with soft kisses, as you helped him remove his iron armor piece-by-piece, stacking the plates aside. 

He draped the white cape over a chair and looked to you. Underneath he wore a pale tunic and cream slacks, his outline pressing to the seams in a way that made your thighs clench. He stepped closer, his desperation more controlled, and pulled you into his chest, his thumb pressed to tilt your chin for a slow and searching kiss. 

You sighed and his tongue curled to taste, his fingers peeling away the bedtime silk that covered your skin. He worshiped every inch shown with his mouth, blooms of color decorating your skin. 

You helped him pull his shirt over his head, wanting to feel the heat of his skin, to feel the golden hair across his chest. His heart was vibrating beneath, and his arms wrapped around your waist with another kiss that pulled the air from your lungs. Ser Erryk tightened his hold to lift you and walk you backwards until you felt the edge of the bed touching the back of your knees; you sat down, your thighs plush and pink.

His hands cradled your jaw, tilting your head back to look at you. “Beautiful,” he whispered before leaning to capture your lips again. 

Your fingers curled at the nape of his neck to pull him towards you, moving back against the mattress. He followed, his skin flushed red and his eyes wide as you laid back into the pillows. He moved on top of you, gentle to touch you with soft caresses and lingering kisses, following your guide as you led his hand lower towards the intimacy between your thighs, wet and wanting. 

He trembled with his exhale as his fingertips split apart your velvet folds, his calloused touch careful to map the bloom of nerves above. You gasped with his testing touch and his smile curled into his blood stained cheeks; he moved softer, but quicker, until it elicited a sweet sigh. 

Ser Erryk was responsive, attentive to you. He was aware of your breathing and soft sounds, matching his ministration to pull something deeper within you, sparking at the base of your spine. It felt different from your own touch, this passion he pulled without your control, and you squirmed from the pressure building in your core. 

“Erryk,” you whined, your hips lifting against his hand.

He grinned, shifting to press a kiss underneath your jaw, and your skin rippled over in response to the contrast of his lips and his beard. “That’s it princess,” his husky tone was hot against your skin; your hands moved to hold him close, another pitiful mewl spilling. He shifted his hand, moving to curl two fingers within your cunt while his thumb pressed to your swollen pearl.  

“Erryk–!” you gasped, and your nails pressed red crescents into his shoulders. 

His brow was knitted with his concentration, moving to litter kisses along the column of your neck and to your collarbones–a gentle nip that bolted the length of your spine. He does not stop, his fingers coated with your slick with his rhythm that curled upwards into you, sparking a euphoria that poured white-hot into your blood, your heart bruising until you feel it rattling your bones. 

His other hand touched to return you back to your body; his palms rough but kind, following the curve of your stomach and resting to feel the rise and fall with your bated breath. You felt dizzy, blushing, and you blinked, looking down to see him watching you. He moved to give you another searing kiss that rekindled the same warmth pooling between your thighs. 

You kissed him back and spread your legs for his slender waist to slot in-between. He pulled his slacks lower, allowing the underside of his cock to spread your velvet folds, a heady but delicious pressure against your cunt. You pulled him in for a kiss and he groaned into your mouth as you canted your hips, your heart pulsing against his heavy cock. 

He was flushed. “I will be gentle, princess…”

You swallowed his words with another kiss, your legs knotting around to rut your hips against him. He panted into your mouth, his arm dipping to line himself with your entrance, and you clenched with your anticipation. 

Erryk pressed into you with a trembled control as your heat enveloped him fully. You were split apart with the most delicious fill; you mewled, pitiful, and his head fell forward, tucking into the curve of your neck. “Gods be good…” he rasped. 

Your fingers dimpled into his waist, encouraging his thrusts. His pace filled you sinfully, a slow roll of his hips that spurred a pleasure coiling within. You gasped against his chest, your nails biting into his skin as he quickened, going deeper, almost bruising. You felt your walls flutter around him, pulling another guttural groan from the back of his throat, his rasped whisper of your name buried into your hair. 

The euphony trilled your spine and you clenched with your second release. It pulled him over that precipice of pleasure, crashing like a tidal wave. Erryk melted against you, hot, pulsing deep within you, and you breathed in his skin, the same intoxicating scent mixed with olive oil and wax. 

He pulled away, the tender moment passing as duty resurfaced. 

You made a noise, pushing to sit upright and your head tilting to watch his heavy sway between his thighs as he walked back from the basin with a clean cloth in hand. Your eyes met with his and his brow arched in return, teasing; you caught his wrist and pulled him back into the bed, against your heart. 

Erryk twisted his face until it pressed into your skin, licking and kissing whatever his mouth could touch. You giggled, squirming until you could rest your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you. 

You did not want this night to end. “Do not leave me, Erryk.” 

“I am sworn to you, princess.” He reminded you, pressing his lips to your hairline. 

It was not what you wished to hear, but it was all you would get at this moment. You hummed, burying your face until his chest hair tickled, listening to the low thrum of his heartbeat. 

That night changed the monotony of the Red Keep. You thought of any reason to pull Erryk away from prying eyes; stolen kisses and touches that lingered, heating your skin. Your eyes now would flit to find him and see that he was always standing close, his gaze piercing through, settled onto you. 

When the sun tucked away into the horizon, he would slip through the passageway and back into your embrace, the intimate tangle of bare limbs abed with breathless kisses and secrets shared. He learned your body, an instrument to be mastered and a passion to taste you on his lips, staining his beard. He became your confidant, sharing the mutterings of the court; he was the one to warn you about the claimant for Driftmark. 

You wrote your mother at once.

It had been months since you left Dragonstone and you were excited to see her, your father and your siblings again. You were deciding on what gown to wear while Elinda was cleaning up, pulling your sheets away with a scowl on her face. 

You laughed at her expression. “What is it?”

She was perplexed. “I cannot recall your last moonsblood, princess,” she admitted, her lips pursed. “I feel that time seems to run itself together within these walls.” 

Her words ripped through you, but you said nothing, your expression as solid as the stones stacked to create the walls she referred to. Elinda finished tucking the corners before she noticed. “Princess! Are you okay–?” 

“I am fine,” you lied. “Help me with my dress.”

Underneath you were rattled, frightened with the revelation of life within you. Your disquiet settled away, disappearing once your mother arrived. You rushed to greet her, seeing her swollen with another heir in the making. Her silver brows knitted as she looked over the state of the Red Keep, and you wrapped an arm around your side, pulling you close to whisper: “It is even worse than what you described!” 

There was comfort in your mother’s arms and you pressed a kiss to her cheek. She looked at you a moment before her gaze fell back to Erryk, your ever dutiful-shadow noted. “Good ser, you have my eternal gratitude for keeping her safe.”

He was pink with her words. “Thank you, princess.” 

Her focus remained on him another moment before she looked back to you, her eyes now careful to comb over. You swallowed, unsure, and she said nothing as her attention was whisked away to her purposeful return to the Keep. 

The days that followed were tumultuous in the least, with a tension that spilled crimson on the floor of the Throne Room. Your stomach dropped from the wet sound of the two halves of Ser Vaemond hitting the stone floor, the smell of iron thick around you; Erryk moved in front of you to shield you away. 

King Viserys called for a supper that evening to mend the ever-growing rift, but instead emotions imploded, splitting the room in half. 

Erryk moved to wrap his hand around your arm at your mother’s command. Your father escorted your siblings and their betrotheds back to their rooms, his silver brow furrowing at you and your knight. 

Your footfalls echoed to keep with his pace, a numbed process of what had just happened. “I will have to return to Dragonstone,” you whispered when you felt certain it was just the two of you. “Wait for me.” 

Erryk looked at you before he stepped closer, cupping your jaw. It rooted you as he leaned to give you a chaste kiss, the warmth of his mouth searing through you. You stifled a sob when he pulled back to place another kiss to your hairline, another secret whispered against your skin. “I always have, princess.” 

Dragonstone was gray and dreary as you remembered, becoming a beacon for awful when the news came that the king was dead and that Prince Aegon II Targaryen now sat upon the throne. 

It wrenched through your mother and her hands pressed to her abdomen. The day waned with your father plotting at the very table the Conqueror laid plans, while your mother’s screams echoed throughout. You waited in the shadows, your hands pressing to protect your stomach; you prayed fervently to the gods, the old ones and the new, but they did not answer. 

A pyre was stacked for the bloody swaddle and you watched the flames swallow it, the heat licking your skin. Your mother was pale, her eyes empty as she watched the curl of smoke rise above, her morbid farewell to her child unborn. 

It was the swords unsheathed that pulled your attention, your heart pounding at the sound of his voice: “I mean no harm, brothers.” 

You swallowed your tears, watching as Erryk kneeled to the earth with his vow renewed. The setting sun gave an amber aura that reflected off the crown he pulled from his satchel, the same as King Jaehaerys’ and your grandsire after, the same that was placed on top of your mother’s head that commanded a rippled bow of respect from everyone around. 

Back inside, any unease was settled once Princess Rhaenys spoke of how he helped her escape from the Red Keep. Your mother forced a smile, her pain still haunting her features. “Your vow is to me, and to my family. You are to keep them safe, like before, like always.” 

And he nodded. 

With war burning on the horizon, its imminent threat that would swallow the Seven Realms, there was no moment spared where you could speak of the life created. You kept it cradled to your chest when you saw how war-wearied Erryk was already. His heart had been cleaved in two and one-half remained in charge of the usurper. 

It allowed a new desperation in the passion shared, a clash of teeth and tongues to taste whatever intimacy could be spared amidst the bloodshed. This ever-threat of life so fleeting is what pushed you to be bolder, which was why you were waiting for him outside the bathhouse one evening. 

You reached as he moved past you, your fingers tucking into his waistband to pull him into the shadows. Your royal apartment had a path that weaved as an escape, and tonight you used it to bring him back with you, to allow a moment to forget the inevitable that was coming. 

“Princess…” he started, but you stopped him with a kiss. 

“I missed you,” you confessed against his lips. “I need to feel you.”

Your room was basked in candlelight and you pulled him through the passageway, turning to dip your hand below his waistband, your hand pressed on his half-hard cock. It pulsed against your palm and you moved closer to place a kiss on his neck.

He sighed his pleasure and his torment. “Princess,” he tried again, but you would not let him. 

You nipped at his skin, halting his words, and he smothered a groan while your other hand pulled at his drawstrings. “Let me,” you breathed, and his skin rose in response. 

He felt heavy in your hands that wrapped around him. You stole another kiss before your chin dropped to your chest, your spit falling from your tongue and onto his cock. 

Erryk hissed as you stroked his length, watching as he jerked with another low moan. Your hand held onto his hip to lower to your knees, your other wrapping around the base and bringing his flushed cockhead against your tongue. You pressed a kiss and were rewarded with a groan that rumbled through him; your tongue trailed the side of his cock, feeling every vein and ridge, and you placed another kiss on the underside. 

His fingers combed through your hair, watching as you pulled back to watch you take him inch-by-inch, with your hand holding onto what could not fit. His hips bucked into your mouth, bruising the back of your throat, and you groaned, a heat pooling between your thighs. 

Your mouth and hand worked in tandem, working his cock until you felt it twitch with his pearly spend, his briny taste against your tongue. He shuddered, pulling back to sink to his knees, cupping your face and pulling you close for a messy kiss. 

“My turn,” he whispered, standing and pulling you to follow, his eyes lust-blown. 

You sank into the mattress and Erryk kneeled before you, an altar to be worshiped. His palm pressed to your cunt and his fingers spread your folds, allowing his tongue to run along your slit. You shivered as he pressed further, his tongue now carving into you with a well-known intimacy that made your toes curl. 

Afterwards, Erryk curled into you and your fingers ran through his still damp hair, the occasional pause to press another kiss to his scalp. “I am sworn to you,” he was quiet, his voice barely above your heart beat. “But you are so much more to me.” 

Your heart swelled in your chest. “I know,” you kissed your knight again. “I… love you too, Erryk.” 

He hummed against you, burrowing into the softness of your skin. His words replayed in your mind, giving you the courage that you needed, but your mother already called you to her chambers the next night. 

When you entered, she dismissed Ser Lorent, who locked the door behind him. Her eyes settled on you and your throat tightened. Her face was drawn, thinner, a woman shattered by all the blood spilled and plagued by the fact that more was yet to come. 

You remained standing, waiting as her eyes poured over you. She took a breath before she said, “I already know.” 

It was a relief, it was terror. Your stomach dropped and you looked to see Elinda busying herself with whatever her hands could find. Damn her. “I wished to tell you myself,” you admitted, your fists balled at your sides until your nails pierced through to the bones. 

Her eyes steeled in return, her jaw set. “Who is he?” 

Instead, you answer with, “I love him.” 

“That was not what I asked,” she snapped in a way that both you and Elinda flinched with her words that were scalding with her anger. “Your queen asked who is the father of the child that you carry.” 

But you saw her tears were threatening to spill, her face blotched with her anger. You pressed your hands to your stomach, the new habit formed over the last few weeks. “It is Ser Erryk Cargyll.” 

She closed her eyes, a fury now thrumming. “I should have fucking known…” 

“And how is it any different from what you shared with Ser Harwin?” You could not stop your tongue, her temperament reflecting. 

“You truly wish to repeat the follies of my heart, you daft girl?” She hissed, her tears spilling. “We are on the cusp of a civil war because… I allowed my heart to choose instead committing to the duty that I am bound to by my blood, the very same within your veins.” Her hand pressed to her chest, a sob caught in her throat. “And that choice is the consequence that I now suffer every day.” 

You wanted to glare, to fight back, but you saw her torment. Her tears spilling called to you and you moved to her bedside, melting into her. She fell into your arms with sobs that wracked her body. She held onto you and you remained, allowing her grief to pour over. 

Behind, you heard the other door opening. Your mother looked up from your chest, wiping her face. “Ser Erryk?” 

A cold-fire twisted into your stomach when you saw him, knowing at once that he was not the man you were in love with. The imposter knight stepped closer, unsheathing his sword. He sounded pained. “Believe me, I had no choice.” 

“Brother!”

Over his shoulder, you saw Erryk, his sword drawn and his eyes wild. “Do not do this. I beg you.” 

There was a clash of steel, of heartbreak and betrayal. Your mother screamed at Elinda, but she remained cemented to the cobblestone, stricken with her fear. She grabbed your hand to pull you from the bed, your legs buckling and your heart screaming to stay. You followed after your mother, remembering too late that the door was locked, and you looked over the room for a weapon, an escape. 

Erryk yelled when the sword cut through his thigh. 

Your fear pulled you outside of your body to see your hands resting to shield your stomach, the smell of blood rich in the night air. You prayed to the gods, a cursed habit, and again, they ignored you. 

You blinked to focus. Arryk fell first, a sword splayed through his stomach, and you looked to Erryk, your relief fleeting when you saw the dagger buried between his ribs. He looked at you, his knees buckling, collapsing to the floor with the clatter of iron. 

Your mother ran for the door, screaming for the maesters, for anyone to come and aid. You rushed to his side, your slippers slick in the blood that was pouring out on the stone, staining the pale silk of your nightgown. You lifted his head to rest on your lap, your trembling touch unsure if you could even staunch the scarlett flow. 

“I cannot do this without you,” you pleaded, your hands pressing around the hilt; his blood bubbled between your fingers. “I need you, Erryk. Our babe needs you!”

Erryk looked at you as if you were the sun itself, a dawning realization that washed over with your words. Your heart wrenched from your chest when you looked at him, a choked sob when you saw the red that stained his smile. 

His lips parted, but no words would come. Instead you watched as the blue of his eyes faded to gray with his last breath.  

You leaned over him, your tears spilling, and you pressed a kiss to his brow, your blood-stained fingers gentle to cradle the head of your devoted knight.

hotd masterlist || arcie's navi

Listen, Otto realizing that he helped put a moron on the Iron Throne and then going through the five stages of grief before dipping is peak comedy, bro really fucked around and then found out.

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON 02.02

"I do regret that business with Luke... I lost my temper that day. I am sorry for it."

wooyoung + yuchan ᯓᡣ𐭩

Just watched hotd and I don’t know how to feel 😃

I’m sooo disappointed with 🩸🧀, everybody created so many expectations for nothing honestly. The sounds were very haunting tho

Nyra and Jace 💔 their scenes were very touching, especially their reunion and Luke’s funeral.

Alicole is a total joke but at least they look hot together.

Aemond for now is just being messy (the normal), but he looked very hot as well 😙

Not ready to see every hotd watcher fight in 3 hours. Save me already 😫

Stress Relief Finale- KNJ

Summary: A couple months ago Taehyung asked a favor. For you to have sex with his bandmates to relieve some tension and stress. How can you say no to that.

Paring: Namjoon/Reader (all members are mentioned)

Rating: M/18+

Word Count: 8k (oops)

Tags: angst, smut, wet dreams, clumsy joon, angry joon, swearing, callbacks to previous chapters, lore, slight twist, maknae scheming, backstory, heavy makeouts, spanking, eating pussy, dick sucking, dirty talk, pet names penetrative sex (use protection) cute ending, fluffy ending

Authors Note: I have been teasing that I saved Namjoon for last for...reasons. This fic is why hehehe

*Seriously thank you all so much for reading this series every like/reblog/comment means the world! I appreciate every single one of you

In case you missed it

Intro Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part7

Namjoon woke up with a start. His heart was racing anxiously in his chest and there was a pounding in his head. Or was that someone at the door? And why was he so warm, and why did everything feel so wet and…sticky?

Namjoon closed his eyes tighter, trying to fight against the urge he had to wake up fully, he was in the middle of a dream, a perfect, very hot, dream. And currently in said dream his cock was buried in a stranger he had seen at a club once upon a time. She was teasing him all night, hiking up her skirt and winking at him.

As hard as Namjoon tried to stay put, to let his mind slip back into a state of dreaming the pounding noise was getting louder and soon enough he cracked open his eyes to be met with his keyboard.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, the dream lingering as he stretched his arms over his head and grumbled. It was not like him to fall asleep at his desk, usually, he would take the couch or something more comfortable. He honestly didn’t even remember falling asleep.

And what the heck was with all that noise?

Namjoon turned in his chair to face the door as his brain tried to wake up fully and he realized someone was knocking on the door.

Quite forcefully.

Right as Namjoon was about to stand up he felt it. The heat prickling on his skin, the way his arms broke out into goosebumps, and the shiver he felt when he shifted in his chair and his now soft wet cock rubbed against his skin.

He looked down and saw a wet spot on the front of his pants and groaned, running a hand through his messed-up hair.

A wet dream

Again

Fuck this was the last thing he needed right now.

“Namjoon!” Jungkook called from behind the door and Namjoon flew into panic mode. He ripped off his pants and boxers and cleaned himself up the best he could. He then threw them under his desk. He always kept extra clothes in his studio in case he had decided to stay the night and he quickly threw on a pair of old sweatpants and called out to Jungkook to wait a minute.

His heart was racing and the dream was so fresh in his mind he swore he was in two places at once, in the dream where the girl was sinking down on his cock and standing here in his studio cumming in his pants like a teenage boy.

Once he felt he looked presentable he opened the door to see Jungkook standing there dressed in his usual all-black looking nervous.

“Yoongi sent me to check on you are you okay?” He asked as Namjoon fought to hide his flustered appearance and the fact he still felt on edge after that dream.

“Yes, I’m fine. Why?” Namjoon asked placing a hand over his chest to try and calm his frantically beating heart.

“Uh well, we have that meeting. You never showed, so I said I’d come get you. Figured you got lost in your music again.” Jungkook explains with a worried look.

Namjoon feels his heart drop as he checks his watch.

Yup, he was ten minutes late.

Well fuck.

“Sorry Kookie I was working on music then fell asleep. Let’s go.” He replies closing the door to his studio and following Jungkook down the hall.

The day didn’t get better.

In fact, the whole week seemed to keep getting worse for Namjoon.

It was now or never as the tour was only a week away and while all the other members seemed to be thriving Namjoon was struggling.

He was their leader and they had to look to him for support so he tried to stay strong for them and mask how he was really feeling.

This masking was causing more harm than good and he could tell the members were getting frustrated with him.

He was usually clumsy, but that seemed to double in the last week. He could hardly hold a bottle of water without dropping the whole thing. He also found he was very short-tempered and often would lose patience with the younger ones when they goof off.

The worst was when anyone would mention Y/N. Just the name coming up would have Namjoon sending death glares and sometimes even the silent treatment.

The boys were walking on eggshells and Namjoon was a second away from losing his sanity.

And the wet dreams?

Well, those seemed to happen more frequently for Namjoon, and while he knew what the fix was he didn’t have time to take care of it. There was hardly any time in the day to do anything and the thought of jerking off was the furthest thing from his mind as he pushed through every day and let his body take care of it at night.

It was always the same dream and he just started to ignore it.

It would go away once they were on tour. Everything would be fixed once they were on tour

Right?

Five days before the tour, everything came crashing down.

Dance practice was brutal and the meetings and final planning for the tour were even worse.

Once the meetings of the day were over the plan sprung into action.

Yoongi and Jin grabbed Namjoon by the arms and held them back, then dragged him into an empty dance studio despite his yells to let him go.

The others were waiting with grim looks on their faces.

“What the hell is this? Get off me! Guys this isn’t funny!” Namjoon protested as his voice echoed throughout the empty room.

Namjoon spotted Jimin running to the door to lock it as Jin and Yoongi forced Namjoon to the floor and they all sat around him.

“Ha. Ha, You guys are funny now let me go!” Namjoon bellows as the other boys look at Yoongi nervously.

“No Namjoon absolutely not. Not until you tell us what the fuck is going on.” He says shooting Namjoon an intense gaze.

“We know you are stressed. We get the stress of being a leader and we wanted to give you space to figure it out but damn is it hard to work with you right now. So we are having a little chat. What is going on and how can we help.” Hobi explains patting Namjoon’s thigh and shooting him a smile.

Which has Namjoon forcefully scooting away and crossing his arms over his chest in a pout.

“Nothing. I am fine.” Namjoon spits out as he eyes all the members.

Jin with a cross-expression

Yoongi cocking an eyebrow as if he doesn’t believe him

Hobi who looks hurt

Jimin who is picking at his fingernails and looking nervous

Taehyung who looks in anguish over the whole thing

And Jungkook, with his big brown eyes he stares at Namjoon with so much worry and fear it makes Namjoon feel guilty.

“You aren’t a good liar Namjoon. You are stressed out and stressing us out. You are shaky and nervous and honestly being kind of an asshole right now. Yelling at Tae during our last three dance practices because he was trying to make us all smile. Showing up late for meetings. Spilling and dropping….everything. We want to help. But we can’t help if you don’t tell us what the hell is going on.” Jin speaks up.

“It’s just…stress.” Namjoon almost whispers hanging his head.

“Okay we get that we are all stressed but you are bubbling over like a volcano. What is going on? Honestly?” Hobi says as they all stare at him.

It’s too much

It’s all too much

Too many eyes on him, too many accusing stares.

Namjoon feels his body heat up and his usual calm and level-headed demeanor snaps.

“Do you really think I need this right now? Do you think wasting my time with an intervention is going to help?” He snaps staring them all down and clenching his jaw.

“Yes, I got mad at Tae because he was wasting time. Do you know how much goes into a tour? Do you know how much I have to do as your leader to get ready for this tour? Goofing off makes my job, and everyone else’s job harder Taehyung. And sitting here and pointing out all my flaws is not going to make me feel better.” Namjoon bellows standing up in frustration.

His heart is racing and his clothing feels too hot, too tight. It’s all too much.

“Joon it’s okay.” Whispers Yoongi standing to join him.

But if Namjoon has something it’s pride and he’s not going to let his band members see how close he was to an absolute breakdown.

“Six against one right? Super fair. Love having you all gang up on me when I do so much for you. I’m going to my studio and changing the password on the door. Don’t follow me. I’m done.” Namjoon announces as he makes his way towards the door.

Yoongi runs to stop him, grabs his arm, and attempts to get him to sit back down, but the look Namjoon gives him is so full of spite that Yoongi shrinks back and lets Namjoon go.

The air is thick with tension and they all stare at each other in shock. As long as they have known Namjoon he has never, ever been like this.

“Should we…. get an exorcist? He is possessed. That’s not our Joon, an evil mad demon possessed him.” Hobi mused which made some of them smile.

“Done as in done with BTS?” Jungkook asks eyes brimming with tears as Jin scoots over to comfort the youngest.

“Nah I think just done with us….for a bit. I’ll talk to him later one one-on-one.” Yoongi mutters scratching his neck

Three days before the tour you opened your door to a surprise. Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung were all standing there looking somber.

“Hey! Come on in!” You say gesturing for all of them to enter.

Originally Taehyung texted you and asked if he could come over which you happily accepted so seeing all three of them was quite a shock.

“Thanks Y/N,” Jimin says as he takes his usual spot on the couch sandwiched between Taehyung and Jungkook.

You sat down on the loveseat next to them and wondered what the hell was going on.

“So uh…” You start but Taehyung is quick to interrupt you.

“I want to talk to you about something.” He starts, long fingers ruffling his fluffy brown hair in nervousness.

You swallow thickly.

“Okay, the floor is all yours.” You say crossing your legs.

“Well I know I’ve liked this arrangement we have and I know you do too. It works. And I think it’s good for both of us, And god you are the perfect fuck buddy like I could not have asked for better, honestly.” He starts and you bite back a smile.

“I think we’ve already had this conversation Tae. Remember? And it ended with me…ahem…assisting your friends.” You tease as Taehyung turns the most gorgeous shade of red and Jungkook and Jimin snicker.

“Really? That’s how you asked her. A whole speech?” Jimin teases as Taehyung shoots him a look.

“I didn’t want to offend her.” He shoots back as Jungkook is hiding his giggles behind his hands.

“Ohmygod you sap. You made it sound all romantic as if it wasn’t just going to be good sexy fun.” Jimin cackles which has Taehyung pinching his arm.

“Okay okay. Um, what did you want to ask Tae?” You say trying to steer the conversation back on track.

“You have been wonderful and incredible. We all appreciate you and how you have….helped. I just kind of had one more favor to ask.” He mutters sheepishly and you cock an eyebrow.

“I mean…we didn’t discuss more than one at a time but I guess I’d be down.” You reply easily as Jimin loses it and falls off the couch in laughter.

Taehyung is glaring at Jimin and Jungook is staring at you with a face of innocence and his eyes blown wide as if a couple of days ago he didn’t make you cum four times.

“Oh my god that is too funny! I like the way she thinks! Why didn’t we think of that!” Jimin cackles which has you shrinking in embarassment and Taehyung grabs his friend by the arm to help him off the floor.

“Kinky,” Jungkook mutters which again has Jimin dissolving into giggles.

“This is why you don’t do long drawn out speeches Tae Ohmygod.” Jimin snorts as he finally rights himself on the couch and you cover your face with your hands completely embarrassed.

“Pretend I didn’t say that. Please pretend that never happened.” You plead as you hide your face and close your eyes.

“Listen, while Taehyung likes his long speeches I’ll rip the bandaid off. We want you to do us a favor and fuck Namjoon” Jimin says bluntly which has your eyes bulging and your mouth dropping open in shock.

“Um. What?” You stammer trying to hide the blush that was creeping up your neck.

“I mean with consent of course! But we need him to chill out and we think you might be our only hope.” Taehyung explains shooting you pleading eyes.

“How? What happened?” You ask nervously as Jungkook fills you in.

“Wow.” You say after the story is done.

“Wow is right. Yoongi went to talk to him after and said it was a disaster. Namjoon changed his lock and is refusing to come out except for mandatory meetings. We don’t have any more dance practices so he is locking himself away. Won’t talk to any of us and won’t answer our calls. I sat outside his door for a whole two hours yesterday peridotically knocking but he never came out.” Jungkook explains looking severely hurt by the whole thing.

You knew how Jungkook talked about Namjoon and how he looked up to him so you knew it must be torture for the poor boy.

“I appreciate you thinking I have this much power but I think I’m the last person he wants to see right now.” You explain uncrossing and recrossing your legs in nervousness.

“Listen we have it all planned out. If he’s locking himself in his studio he’s not eating. We will have you deliver food and hopefully talk to him. And if you guys fuck even better! That boy has been moaning in his sleep for days now.” Jimin explains as Taehyung once again smacks his arm and Jungkook covers his face in embarassment.

“He hasn’t reached out to me though. I have to respect that. I don’t think he wants anything to do with me” You argue feeling your cheeks ablaze at the very prospect of it.

“We aren’t saying you have to have sex with him. Unless you want to,” Jiimin teases raising his eyebrows and winking at you.

“He doesn’t want to see me though. Believe me.” You say anxiously.

“All we are saying is go to the door and deliver him food. Explain who you are. Maybe he would want to talk to you. We have gone through almost everyone we can think of. He is shutting everyone out including his friends outside of BTS. Please Y/N.” Tae says with his signature pout.

“We can’t go on tour like this. The fans mean everything to us and they will notice if something is wrong. Please help us out. And if he slams the door in your face you can come to Jungkook’s studio which is right across the hall and we will bring you home. No harm.” Tae says as Jungkook nods enthusiastically.

“Okay fine.” You sigh out as Jimin and Junkook cheer and Taehyung gets out of his seat to give you a heated kiss.

“Now let’s raid your closet, Jungkook order the food!” Jimin shouts as he grabs your hand and drags you to your room.

“Wait now?” You exclaim in shock as you hear Taehyung and Jungkook scheming in the living room.

“Yes, beautiful now,” Jimin responds in glee as he throws open your closet.

The ride over to the HYBE building was torture and you couldn’t sit still the entire time. It didn’t help that Jimin thought the perfect outfit would be a mini skirt and a V-neck shirt and you kept anxiously pulling the skirt down to cover more of your exposed legs

You had the food resting on your lap keeping your knees warm and your throat was dry in anxiety.

Once you got to the building and into the elevator your stomach was in knots. Jimin kept cracking jokes to ease your nerves and Junkook and Tae kept assuring you everything would be fine.

“Why did I agree to this? This was a bad idea.” You whine as the elevator keeps going up and up as you stand on shaky feet.

Because Park Jimin thought the best way to have you deliver food would be in this ridiculous outfit…and four-inch heels.

“Don’t be nervous. If he slams the door in your face you’ll come right across the hall to me. Maybe make sure he at least takes the food though.” Jungkook says cracking a smile as you wobble when the elevator finally stops.

“Wait I can’t. I seriously can’t.” You whimper as the doors open and the boys usher you out to the hallway.

The elevator doors close. And the elevator goes back down to ground level.

You are stuck here now.

“Believe me Namjoon is big and scary to us but he won’t be to you. He’s a little boy trapped inside a big man’s body. He’s harmless, It’s fine.” Jimin soothes as he marches down the hall full of confidence.

“Y/N you got this. You can do this. We care about you and Namjoon and you are doing us a huge favor by helping us out with this.” Taehyung says softly as he grabs your face in his hands and kisses you softly, easing some of your nerves.

“And if it works out maybe we will reward you with that foursome.” He mutters against your lips for only you to hear as you roll your eyes at him and his own eyes sparkle with mischief.

“What if he doesn’t answer the door?” You ask as you stay frozen in the hall still holding the food.

“He will. He thinks we have all gone home for the night because Yoongi sent a message in our group chat saying he was having everyone over for drinks. We all said yes and he Jin, and Hobi are there right now. They said to keep us up to date.” Jungkook replies.

“Yoongi is in on this too?!” You hiss as Taehyung laughs.

“Well, he knew we were up to something and forced it out of us. He was at his wit’s end and figured why the hell not go with our brilliant plan.” Taehyung explains as he grabs your arm and helps you walk over to Namjoon’s door.

Namjoon’s door.

It felt like being the hero in a video game and walking to the final boss.

“Don’t be nervous it’s all good. You got this. We owe you our life.” Tae whispers as Jungkook and Jimin disappear into Jungkooks studio with a wave which leaves you and Tae standing there.

“Why are you making it sound like you're sending me to my death.” You hiss as Taehyung laughs and softly rasps on Namjoon's door.

“Have fun sweetheart.” He teases with a sloppy kiss as he sneaks across the hall and slips into Jungkook’s studio

You wait.

And wait.

And no one answers.

You want to turn away. To go to Jungkook’s studio to flee but you decided to try one more time.

Just as you balance the food and raise your fist to knock the door opens.

You are met with Kim Namjoon who’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

He is wearing a blue cap to hide his hair and his broad frame is covered in a blue shirt. He looked like he had not slept in days but was still beautiful.

“Um Hi.” You choke out staring at him.

“You?” He says softly with his eyes blown open in surprise.

“I brought food.” You stammer holding out the bag for him. You are shaking so bad you are grateful when he takes it off your hands.

“Why are you here.” He snaps as you cower under his gaze.

Even in heels, he is so much taller than you and you seem to shrink under his gaze.

“It was not my idea I just got roped into it.” You say holding up your hands in surrender as Namjoon shakes his head.

“Let me guess. Jimin, Jungkook and Tae?” He asks staring you down as you nod thickly.

“Yeah, they dropped me off here and went to visit Yoongi.” You lie effortlessly as Namjoon holds up the take-out bag to inspect it.

“And they got all my favorites those suck-ups. Well, come in I guess. I’m not punishing you for getting roped into their plan and them abandoning you here. After we eat I’ll bring you home.” He says sounding weary as you follow him into his studio.

You take in the light tones of the walls and his décor as he sets up the small coffee table with the food and gets settled on the couch.

You watch as he takes off his cap to push his hair back from his tired face and you watch in fascination as he meticulously sets everything up.

Once he is seated on the couch he raises an eyebrow at you, a silent invitation and you slowly walk over and sit down heart hammering in your chest and your breathing uneasy.

“It’s okay it’s just me.” He says softly as you nod and take a seat next to him as he hands you chopsticks. You pull down your skirt once again and Namjoon snickers next to you.

You both eat in silence as soft music plays in the background.

“So they roped you into this huh?” He muses breaking the silence as you slurp your noodles and nod.

Namjoon shakes his head with a fond look on his face.

“So you know what has been going on then?” He asks timidly.

“I mean they just said you were stuck in the studio and not eating or talking to anyone. They thought I could help.” You whisper feeling small next to him.

“And let me guess. Jimin dressed you in an outfit that looks super uncomfortable for you. Jungkook used his big brown eyes to persuade you and Taehyung was the ringleader of the whole thing.” Namjoon contemplates as you let out a laugh.

“Wow, you're good.” You say as Namjoon grins and his signature dimple appears on his cheek.

“You can take off your heels you know. They don’t look very comfortable.” He says as you sigh in relief and kick off your shoes.

You both lapse back into silence and finish the food.

The music stops and Namjoon heads to his computer to start another playlist and you can’t help but stare at his strong muscular back as he leans over his desk.

When he turns around you pretend to be staring at the artwork on the walls instead and Namjoon chuckles to himself.

He sits back on the couch, this time closer to you and you blush under his piercing gaze.

“So Taehyung was the mastermind behind this huh? Just like he was the mastermind behind you keeping all of us…sane.” Namjoon quips as you run a hand through your hair and nod.

“Does Taehyung know?” He asks softly as he turns to face you, his knee bumping into yours sending electricity down your legs and to your feet.

“Does Taehyung know what?” You questioned knowing full well what he was hinting at but wanting to hear him say it.

“That night you first met him at the club. That night that you went home with him you were flirting with me all night.” He glowered as you felt your stomach swoop and you broke his gaze staring at the walls.

With one hand under your chin, he brought your gaze back to his and you swallowed hard.

“Nu-uh, eyes on me. Does he know you were hiking up your skirt for me and winking at me for most of the night? Does he know that you were grinding on other men, but you were staring at me the whole time? Does he know how much of a tease you are?” He growls as his knee pushes into your bare one harder and you blush under his heated gaze.

“Does Taehyung know the reason I hate this whole arrangement is because you were supposed to go home with me that night?”

“I-uh.” You mutter unable to form words as Namjoon continues to speak.

“If it wasn’t for Seokjin pointing you out to Tae you would have been with me. Not him. Not all the other members. I don’t share.” He growls

Wanton thoughts were running through your mind as you replayed that night. How he stood out from the crowd because he was so tall, so big, so handsome. How you spotted him right away and thought he was the most attractive man you had ever seen. You remembered the thrill that went down your spine when he finally locked eyes with you over his glass of whiskey.

You remember the carnal desire you had for him to keep his eyes on you. How you hiked up your skirt to show more skin, how you winked and flirted with him across the crowded dance floor. How you danced with other men to tease and taunt him.

See what you could have if you just came over here.

How his jaw clenched every time a man put his hands on you. How you shook your body to the music and threw your head back and laughed when a dance partner whispered something in your ear.

The jokes were no longer funny when you saw his shocked expression when his friend and bandmate Kim Taehyung waltzed over to you and asked very politely for a dance.

How you nodded thickly and backed your ass up until it was flushed with his crotch. How Tae whispered in your ear how he was amazed by your dancing and thought you were beautiful.

You blushed under all his praise and by the time you looked up Namjoon had disappeared from the crowd and Taehyung was asking if he could take you home for the night.

But a one-night stand turned into a many-night-stand

And soon enough Taehyung asked you for a favour. Everyone was so stressed. Everyone was so worried about the tour and he just wanted to help out. He just wanted everyone to be happy again.

And while you agreed Kim Namjoon stayed in the back of your mind.

Would he see you again?

Would he reach out?

You awaited texts that never came. You figured he forgot all about you. That he had moved on. A part of your heart still clung to the hope he would reach out. Even though you went home with Taehyung you never forgot about him.

And it seemed like fate didn’t want you to forget about him.

With this master plan Tae had.

About you showing up all innocent and bringing Namjoon food.

You weren’t just nervous about the plan, you were anxious about seeing him again, having those eyes on you once more that made you shiver in the stuffy heat of the club.

“Does Kim Taehyung know I never forgot about you? That I keep having vivid dreams of a pretty girl hiking up her skirt and flirting with me and making me hard as fuck though at the time I didn’t even know her name?” Namjoon mutters bringing your focus back to him as he licks his lips.

“Joon.” You whine out pressing your legs together as he smirks.

“I selfishly told the boys to stop with you because you could ruin everything. In reality, I wanted you to myself.” He admits as he smiles wickedly at you.

You let out a shaky breath and felt your skin slick with sweat as he stared down at you.

“You never answered my question. Does Taehyung know it was me first?” He growls low as you shiver.

“I never said anything… I figured….you forgot.” You muttered dumbly as his hand came out to trace small patterns on your knee. You kept your gaze downward watching as his hand traced small circles and a wicked smile formed on his face.

“Y/N how could I forget? You had me so fucking hard sitting at the bar I was aching to get my hands on you, to feel you pressed up against my cock. But Taehyung got to you first so I left. I didn’t want to be a part of it. I didn’t want to see it.”

You swallow hard.

“Then months after, when I still hadn’t let you go, Taehyung told us that you were available to help us out if we needed it. And you know what I did?” He spits out as you shake your head.

“I told everyone to stay the fuck away from you. It was probably selfish but I said that you could ruin everything. You were a liability we could not afford to have. Then I went home and jerked off to the thought of you, multiple times.” He admitted.

You felt your arousal pool in your skimpy panties and you pushed your knee harder into his as you stared at him mesmerized.

“You were supposed to be mine that night at the club. Not Taehyung’s and not everyone else’s after. Now get on your hands and knees on this couch and I’m going to spank you and I want you to be as loud as you can. Make Tae Jungkook and Jimin hear it.” He says swatting your lap and standing up off the couch.

Your mouth drops open in shock.

“W-what do you mean they aren’t here they went to Yoongi’s.” You stammer as Namjoon chuckles darkly and once again swats your bare thigh to get you to move.

“This studio may be pretty well soundproofed so you're gonna have to be loud. Come on Y/N I'm not stupid, they are waiting in Jungkook’s studio in case I said no huh? They wouldn’t abandon you in a building you most definitely should not be in. Fucking brat always breaking the rules and now I have to punish you at my workplace. So nasty Y/N.” He growls.

You can’t take it any longer so you stand up and unzip your miniskirt letting it pool at your ankles as you step out of it. Namjoon’s eyes follow your body as you position yourself on the couch and bury your face in one of his decorative pillows.

“This okay?” He mutters as his hand runs softly down your back.

You grin.

“Joonie please spank me.” You plead and he laughs darkly above you

He takes a moment to stare at your underwear which consisted of a black thong that was buried in the back of your drawer that Jimin just had to find. It was super uncomfortable and you begged Jimin to let you wear anything else.

“Did Jimin pick this out too?” He teases as his hands come to massage your ass, kneading the skin and making you push back against him, hungry for more friction.

“Y-Yes.” You cry out when one hand dips lower to run over your folds which had soaked the material of the thong.

“Well, that earns you another spank princess.” He decided as without warning he delivered a sharp spank to your backside.

“I think ten spanks should suffice. One for each member you had sex with, that’s six then one because Jimin picked out your underwear, one for teasing me all night at the club, and two more because I feel like it. Ten in total.” He says as he gives you another harsh swat causing you to whine out and bury your face in the pillow.

“Uh uh didn’t I say be as loud as you like?” He demands as he grabs your hair and softly tits your head back.

His hand comes down to give you two quick sharp spanks and you whine out his name and clench your legs together as you feel your arousal making your thighs slick.

“God you are dripping. You must really like this huh?” He mutters as his hand traces your folds again and you whine out and push your hips back to try to get him to touch more of you.

“Patience baby. You know how much patience I had to have letting everyone fuck you before I got my turn. Let me give you six more then we will get to the good stuff.” He says to you as he massages your reddened flesh and you cry out his name.

“Well, six more spanks princess. Tell me how did the fucking order go? Who got you first…well besides Taehyung.” He asks as you sob under him, body alight with arousal.

“J-Jimin was first.” You cry out as Namjoon swats you extra hard.

“T-Then Jungkook.” You cry as Namjoon hums behind you and spanks just your left cheek.

“Then Jin” You cry out as Namjoon spanks your right cheek.

“Yeah, that was the night I went to the art exhibit If only I would have known my little slut was with him.”

“Then-uh-Yoongi!” You muttered as Namjoon spanked harder this time and you cried out and buried your face in the pillow. Your body was on fire and you felt your pussy pathetically fluttering around nothing.

“Almost there, princess.” He coos

“Then-Tae. He wanted to remind me who he belongs to.” You whisper as Namjoon cocks an eyebrow and stalls his spank.

“Is that so?” He demands.

“Yes?” You reply weakly as he spanks you so hard your whole body jolts forward but his other hand is there to catch you from falling off the couch.

“And who do you belong to?” He asks

“You! Joon I belong to you. Oh god please.” You cry out almost delirious from pleasure.

“Last one baby. Come on. One more name for me.” He says pressing a kiss to your tailbone as you cry out Hobi’s name.

“There is it.” He says as he spanks you one more time and you collapse on the couch face down, struggling to catch your breath.

You feel a blanket being thrown over your body and you sigh in relief as you curl up on the couch.

Namjoon then leaves you on the couch and throws open the door to see Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook standing there.

“Namjoon what a surprise!” Jimin says loudly as you bury your face in the pillow and let out a small groan at the pain from all the spanks.

“Go to Yoongi’s and tell him I’m fine. We will have a meeting and I will apologize and open up a bit more about what has been going on. Now get out of here okay? I’m not having you perverts standing at the door trying to listen in on the rest of this.” He says as you turn your head to see the three of them standing there staring between you and Namjoon, not sure where to look.

Namjoon didn’t wait for their answer instead he slammed the door and you giggled when he made his way back to you and sat on the very edge of the couch.

“How do you always know?” You tease as he smiles softly at you and rubs your back in soothing circles.

“I’ve been around them too long.” He admits as you finally sit up and stare at him. His dominant side seemed to disappear and instead, he looked calm and a little bit shy. Your heart began to race in your chest. He was so damn cute.

You slipped off the blanket and settled yourself on his lap. His hands shot out to your hips to hold you steady and he blushed under your gaze. His gorgeous dimples popping out making your heart flutter.

“I was trying to get your attention that night. I was outrageously flirting with you hoping you would come over. I was just as surprised as you were when Taehyung was the one to come over instead.” You admit as he ducks his head and shyly blushes.

“I was just about to come over when Tae did. But after…I mean…what could I do? I’m older and supposed to be the leader of the group. I need to be logical and responsible. Let the others do this kind of stuff I can’t afford to do this stuff you know.” Namjoon says lips in a pout and a saddened look in his eyes.

“Namjoon you have taken on so much as a leader. You have gone above and beyond and it shows. But also. You're a human. You are allowed to have “Good sexy fun” As Jimin puts it.” You say with a laugh as Namjoon grins and shakes his head.

“I think I handled my punishment well and you got to take out some frustration now it’s up to you. I could walk out of here right now and let you get back to being a leader of the biggest band in the world or….we could have some good sexy fun. Your choice.” You said as he stared at you with wide eyes.

“I just got you and you think I want to let you walk out that door. Please.” He exclaimed as you giggled.

“Hey I’m not here to pressure you it’s your choice!” You tease as he runs his fingers through his hair and draws small circles on your hips.

“Watching you take those spanks I’m so fucking hard right now I don’t think I could let you go if I tried.” He admits as you feel excitement course through your entire body.

“But. Can I ask one small thing?” He says softly as he intertwines your fingers with his and brings them up to his lips to give them the softest sweetest kiss.

“The last time I said sure to a favor I ended up here so why not?” You giggle.

“After this tour can I take you on a date? Like a real date? I missed my shot that night at the club but I’m not missing it now.” He says staring into your eyes and making you flush under his gaze.

“Of course Joon.” You whisper as he grins and leans in to kiss you.

His lips are soft against yours and you melt into the kiss instantly. His hands grab for your hips to push you forward so your core is flushed with his aching cock.

You moan against his mouth when you feel how thick he is under you and his hands come to tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss.

You aren’t sure how long you both stay there kissing, it could be minutes, it could be hours but when you finally come up for air his lips are puffy and red and you giggle as you run your thumb over them watching his eyes widen at your movement.

He slowly peels you off of his lap and stands up to go to his desk drawer to get a condom. Your heart is racing in your chest as he places it on the coffee table then moves the whole thing out of the way to settle on the floor between your legs.

“Gotta prep you to take my cock.” He says as his fingers reach for your thong and pull it down your body. You sigh in relief when it’s removed and Namjoon chuckles.

“As hot as you looked we have to talk to Jimin about picking comfy clothes.” He says.

His hands grab at your knees and pull your legs apart so he can see your glistening core. He bites back an obscure moan when he sees just how wet and needy you are for him.

And it makes his cock twitch when he realizes it’s all for him and him only.

“Joon.” You cry out as his eyes snap up to yours, which are wide in desperation.

He wastes no time delivering small kisses to your thighs and you open your legs wider as he travels upwards.

Your hands naturally tangle in his hair and when he finally licks at your folds you can’t help but cry out his name when he licks a bold stripe up your pussy and flicks his tongue over your clit.

You arch your back into his touch and he continues to lick and suck at your core, swallowing everything you give him as he breathes in the scent of your arousal staining his face.

Once he can tell you are getting close he brings a finger into the mix and slips it easily inside of you. You arch up and cry out his name, opening your legs further as he slowly pumps it in and out of you.

His free hand dips down to palm at his cock which is aching in his pants and desperate for some kind of friction. He wants to be buried inside of you right this second but as wet as you were with his spanks he knows you have to have at least one orgasm before he gets his cock wet with your pussy.

“C-close” you cry out when he inserts another finger and scissors them stretching you out. His lips leave your core to stare at your face which is scrunched up in pleasure and when you finally cum around his digits moaning out his name Namjoon swears he has never seen a more beautiful sight. You are art and he is grateful he got to experience it.

“Holy shit.” You breathe out as you come down from your high. You flutter open your eyes to see Namjoon still seated on the floor, his cheeks are flushed, his eyes are blown wide and his hand is palming at his erection which has you giggling.

“C’mere Joon.” You say as he scrambles to get up on the couch with you. As he stands you lean forward to pull his pants and underwear down and his cock springs up and smacks against his stomach.

At the same time, he pulls his shirt over his head and you do the same taking off your bra in the process.

You both take the time to take in each other’s naked bodies and you’d be lying to say you weren’t slightly intimidated.

Just as he was that night at the club Namjoon was broad and big.

His shoulders were broad and wide, his chest was muscular, his stomach was toned and the trail of hair that led downwards was mouthwatering. His cock was standing proudly against his stomach and the head was flushed a pretty red color.

You wasted no time wrapping your hand around his hardened cock as he throws his head back and whimpers at the contact.

You take your time stroking him from base to tip and when you lean forward to suck the head of his cock he choked out a moan.

You let the taste of him coat your tongue and you hallow out your cheeks as you work your way down his shaft. His hands are tangling in your hair to keep it back as you take him as far as you can go. You feel your throat constricting and you fight the urge to gag as you breathe through your nose and fight every urge in your body to pull back.

Namjoon is a whining moaning mess above you and when you finally do pull back his cock is slick with your spit and his eyes are wide.

He grabs the condom from the coffee table and rolls it on his cock. You move over to give him space on the couch as he sits down.

“How do you want this?” You ask as he jerks himself off slowly.

“How do you want it? Ladies choice.” He says as you decide to slowly climb on his lap and swat his hand away so you can hold the base of his cock.

“Wanna ride you.” You mutter as you grind yourself against his cockhead soaking it in your wetness which has him throwing his head back.

“Fuck.” he grits out when you slowly sink down on him hissing at the stretch.

“Too much? Go slow baby it’s okay.” He whispers as he rubs soothing circles on your bare back as you sink fully down in one swoop.

Namjoon chokes out a cough as he feels your tight walls around his cock and you bury your face in his strong shoulder and whimper at the stretch.

“Fuck… you are so tight around my cock. God Y/N You feel like heaven.” He mutters as he presses soft kisses to your cheeks and your forehead.

“Joonie you are so big holy shit.” You manage to huff out as you slowly rock your hips back and forth trying to ease some of the sting.

“We can take it slow baby. It’s okay we have all night.” He reminds you as he moves your hair so he can place soft kisses on your neck and collarbones.

“Close your eyes, baby. Relax around me, that’s it.” He whispers as you do as he says and his hands come up to cup at your breasts.

He takes his time massaging the skin and flicking his thumbs over your hardened nipples, the sensation sending shockwaves down your spine.

Once your body adjusts you take your time slowly grinding on his lap. His hands leave your breasts to grab at your hips to hold you.

You gulp when he thrusts up to meet you in the middle and begins to fuck into you slowly causing you to whine and beg for more.

“Say the word baby.” He teases you.

“Say how much you want me.” He says still giving you slow and shallow thrusts.

“Please Joon. Fuck me. Please.” You beg

And that’s all it takes.

Namjoon begins to fuck into you with a fierce passion that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your hands grabbing onto his broad back for support.

His thrusts are deep and accurate as he finds your g-spot with ease and continues to hit it with every deep thrust.

“God baby you are soaking my cock.” He grits out when you begin to add in your own thrusts as you ride him with force, the only sound in the studio being a mix of both your heavy breathing and his balls slapping your ass with each thrust.

He is fucking you with a passion you have never felt before. He pours out all those days and weeks and months of thinking about you, of waking up hard because of you, of scolding himself for letting Taehyung have you.

His breathing becomes uneven and you are crying out above him. The coil of pleasure is tightening with every thrust of his cock and as much as you want this to last longer you know you are getting close.

“Joon-Cl-Close.” You cry out as he captures your lips in a heated messy kiss. One of his hands holds your hip while the other reaches between your legs and finds your clit with ease.

You cry into his mouth when he circles your clit and soon enough you are spasming and cumming hard around his cock, his plump lips swallow your moans as your pussy tightens around his cock and he cums hard inside of you still kissing you with such force it steals the breath from your lungs.

You slump down in his lap as you both breathe heavily. He stills his movements and you both take your time coming down from your high.

You press small kisses to his collarbones as he runs a shaky hand through his hair. The air in the studio reeks of sex and it is humid as hell when you finally pull off of him you collapse on the couch staring at him with admiration in your eyes.

“Let me get you cleaned up. Stay here.” He says taking the fallen blanket and throwing it over your body as he disposes of the condom and leaves to go and get a towel.

Ever the gentleman he kneels in front of you to get you cleaned up. He discards the towel and holds you in his arms on the couch.

You stare up at him and smile, he looks so relaxed, so peaceful it makes your heart happy.

“That was amazing.” He says breaking the comfortable silence as he holds you in his arms and you snuggle into his bare chest.

“Worth the wait?” You tease as he shoots you a boyish grin.

“Worth the wait. Though now I have to wait once again to take you out on a proper date. Good thing I’m a patient man.” He teases you as he kisses your temples and you fall into a peaceful sleep in his arms.

Soon enough Namjoon finds his eyes fluttering closed and for the first time in a long time, he sleeps throughout the night.

Taglist

@take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d

@m00njinnie

@minghaosimp

@madebyjungkookie

@iammeandmeisiam

@allie-is-a-panda

@marihoneywk

@stayonmars

@xmspurple7x

@coffeedepressionsoup

@lerasi

@taekritimin123

@caught-in-the-afterglow

@crisle19

EWAN MITCHELL | House of the Dragon S2 Premiere, NYC June 3rd 2024

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours: