King John X Reader - Tumblr Posts

gluttony - king john (2010)

Gluttony (n): overindulgence in food....or in this case..

cw: oral (f), overstim, uhhh dirty talk kind of, john being a brat, that's it.

It was a tossup between greed and gluttony for him, but I picked gluttony bc oberyn snatched greed

it's pretty straightforward. John has a luxurious lifestyle, his diet has consisted of the most sought after delicacies and he can have as much of it as he wants. why can't this extend to other tastes?

He'd played a naughty trick.

Of course, nothing was ever simple with him, and you should have been suspicious from the start. Was it odd he'd requested supper in his chambers? Yes. Was the lack of staff and more importantly, food, slightly strange? Yes.

Was being spread-eagle on a velvet bedspread for the better part of an hour out of the ordinary?

Not really.

John had developed a terribly addictive habit since you'd married. Mind you, his appetite had been voracious before, but now that he had the legal ties of marriage and free roam of the castle, his hunger could not be satiated.

You were only glad he'd stuck to his quarters, instead of devouring you in more public settings. You never mentioned it, for fear he'd get a bad idea. There were enough peasants trysting in the courtyard as it was. You were a queen, for God's sake.

Though at the moment, you felt akin to a puddle of syrup, moaning and twitching as he had his way. John's grip was bruising on your hips, corded forearms flexing and squeezing around your thighs as he tried to fit as much of you in his mouth as he could.

Sweat and fluid trickled down your legs, staining rivers on his ruined shirt. Both of you were soaked, and there was not a clean scrap of clothing in sight.

His tongue was skilled and efficient, reducing you to tears in an instant. He'd been ravenous, kissing and biting and sucking until the initial craving had been sated. With the casualty of entering one's home, he'd settled between your thighs and made a meal of your cunt.

You mewled, quivering from the intensity. Fire, pleasurable as it was painful, burned a hot stripe through your core, releasing another wave of slick. John mumbled a thank you - perhaps the only time he used his manners - and licked harder, sucking the nectar straight out of you.

"S..sstop," you whispered hoarsely, "John, you're h-hurting-"

He flicked his sharp gaze to your disheveled face. A sheen of want had glazed over his face, lips slack and dripping. Displeasure flickered across his brow, before huffing and returning to the task. Your head dropped back to the pillow, a dejected moan tearing from your throat.

The licks were gentler now. He'd given your clit a blessed break, lapping gently at your outer folds. You still twitched and cried, but the tears fell slower and you took a deep breath for the first time. His hands shifted lower, lovingly stroking your tender flesh.

It's over, it's over, your delirious mind cried with relief, shakily returning to conscious thought. John smiled at you, drinking in your heated cheeks and coital glow.

"I'd have a painting of you like this," he murmured, tracing your shining pink core. You whined at the contact, attempting to cage his hand away. Tutting, he delivered a swift smack to your ass.

"Stay," he said sternly, settling back down.

His mop of curls were sweaty as he reclined against your inner thigh, absently sucking at your skin. Hot pleasure pulsed through your cunt, seeping wetness all over the sheets. A tremor rocked your core, contorting your body away from his scalding touch.

no more, no more, your skin moaned.

John tsked and clumsily wrangled your legs back in place, biting admonishingly on your ass. Finding a new dessert to please his tongue, he focused his lustful attention there, squeezing and fondling while you moaned into the pillows.

"Hush, little wife," he slurred, smacking his lips at your taste, " 'M not quite finished."

Fingers curling around the cotton of your nightgown, you hiccupped and wailed as another powerful wave crashed over you, bowing your back into the mattress. John moaned at the sight of your puffy pink folds shivering in the low candlelight, clit stiff and swollen from overstimulation.

Everything was hot and wet. You couldn't tell if it was his tongue or his fingers plundering your messy cunt, the thickness and speed too overwhelming to process. Tears blurred your vision, the wanton moans and sucking noises all you could feel from your husband.

You writhed under him, nightgown ripping down the front as he fought to continue his feast. John greedily grabbed hold of your soft stomach, pausing his action to kiss at your breasts. The new stimulus hadn't fixed the issue of your shredded nerves, merely shifted the focus.

In not nearly long enough of a reprieve, he'd returned to eating your cunt. The slick noises were loud against the stone chamber. John's shirt was plastered to his golden chest, linen soaked to transparency. His face was dripping and milky, pink lips shimmering.

You'd find him beautiful if you could see straight.

It was a gratuitous fight between more and too much, one that your fuck-drunk mind struggled figure out. A protest would come to mind, then another orgasm would wrench it away, leaving moans and gasps in its stead. Your voice howled for it to end, but your hips ground onto his face like your life depended on it.

John reveled in your desperation, grinning at every moan. Your lust fed his, empowering him to continue.

"Good, love," he cooed, watching your folds seize and leak another mouthful of ambrosia. He greedily lapped it up, taking time to drag his tongue through each crevice of your heaven. His tongue's repeated strokes and attention had softened your skin to velvet. It was a wonderful sensation on his tongue - like having the softest, sweetest pudding in the world.

Your heady musk surrounded him. John was drunk. His thoughts had long since been beaten to a pulp, animalistic want driving him now.

Taste, smell, sweet, rich, earthy, soft, warm wet all everywhere all over him, sticky and divine on his face and tongue. He pressed closer, willing his mouth to fuse with your skin and never separate. That was the only way he'd be satisfied: if he could never taste anything else.

The supple thighs caging his head squeezed tighter, making his eyes roll back. Your legs were strong from the stables, in a dizzyingly seductive display of strength. John bucked against the bed, his own need now abundantly clear.

Your sudden rake of your hands through his hair pulled a moan from his mouth, finally tearing his mouth from your core. Saliva strung a wet bridge from his lips, puffy and gasping. You huffed at the rush of cool air against your sensitive skin, wriggling until your legs closed.

John scowled, ready to pounce, until your leg dragged deliciously over his straining hardness. At once he was placid, rutting and moaning into your thighs, face crushed in your lap.

You hissed and began to move away, giving him room to get off. He whined a protest, using your strong hips for leverage.

"N-no," he gritted out, humping faster, "almost, almost, don't move-" Your hand snaked into his trousers and he came with a guttural cry, mouthing into your exposed breasts. His hips kept twitching into your firm grip, whimpering as he stuttered to a stop.

You didn't.

Confused, John tried to back away, length soft and achey. But your eyes had cleared and your hand tightened.

"My turn," you whispered, enveloping his sore cock in your mouth. He collapsed against the bedframe, chest heaving.

All sins came with a price, he supposed, face contorting in desire.

! first one is done! the more time I spent on this, I really should have gone with greed, but oh well. Oberyn's will still be good.

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