#psych smut

[patchouliauthor]

Head Over Heels | Shawn Spencer X F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Oral sex (M! receiving), unprotected p in v, sort of subby Shawn.

Word Count: 3060

A/N: This took me so long because I've been busy with school and work but it is finally here. Hope you guys love it!

Summary: You meet Shawn at a bar and hit it off quickly.

Finally, you were done with your thesis and the research needed to graduate with your masters in behavioral analysis. To celebrate, your friends brought you out to your favorite karaoke club.

You had the best friends in the world; Janine, Mikki, and their boyfriends Larry and Garrett. Janine and Mikki were your roommates in undergrad. 

Mikki brought many guys back to your dorm room during the years you lived together, and not one of them were good enough for her and you made sure they knew. Then one day she brought home Garrett, and you just smiled at him as he left. Janine however stayed with the first guy she dated, Larry. He worshiped the ground that Janine walked on, and so you were cool with him too.

The karaoke bar was packed, but you had a perfect seat to watch people go up there and try their hand at the karaoke machine. One poor, very drunk, guy walked up and started singing “Wheel in the Sky” by Journey, and you were afraid you were going to watch this man’s soul leave his body with the amount of force he was putting into it. 

“Why don’t you get up there and sing?” Larry asked you.

“No thanks!” You scoffed. You could carry a tune but you were not much of a singer, plus you had not nearly had enough alcohol to give you the confidence to go up there.

“Leave her alone Larry, we’re here to celebrate!” Mikki said.

You all took a shot of… something. It didn’t taste good but it wasn’t really supposed to. It burnt going down and you made a slight face, but it started to do the job almost instantly.

“So now that you’ve got your degree, are you looking to settle down?” Janine asked.

“Any cute boys?” Mikki followed up.

“Not at the moment, no.” You giggled. “Oh come on, there must be someone.” Mikki said.

“When the right guy comes around, you will be the first to know.” You said.

“Let’s drink to that.” Garrett said and you all took swigs of the drinks in front of you.

After about a half an hour of mediocre singing and too many drinks, they finally convinced you to go up there. You took a few seconds to pick the song until you found it. Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears. It was perfect. You pressed play and the familiar intro played. You heard the door open and you watched as two men walked in. One was bald, wearing a button up shirt tucked into khaki colored dress pants and nice shoes. The other had brown hair and a leather jacket on, and they both lit up as they heard what song was playing. Quickly, it was your turn to sing.

“I wanted to be with you alone…” You started. The men looked up at you in amazement. Maybe you were a better singer than you thought, or maybe you were just incredibly drunk. Either way, this song was going to get sung and it was going to be by you.

You kept singing, and the brunette man never took his steely gaze off of you.

“Something happens and I’m head over heels. I never find out, ‘til I’m head over heels.” You sang loud and clear. He smiled.

When the song wrapped up, not only your table of friends applauded loudly, but so did many others in the bar, including the leather jacket wearing mystery man.

When you came down from the stage, you saw the man watching you the whole way to your table. You knew you had to talk to him, and as soon as your friends saw who you were looking at, they agreed.

“Go over there!” Janine said.

“I swear Y/N if you don’t go over there I will.” Mikki said, much to the dismay of Garrett.

You giggled and then walked towards him just to go past him and go to the bar; you do not chase men. Luckily, he apparently does the chasing and meets you at the bar.

“You sounded great up there. You a big Tears for Fears fan?” He asked.

“Oh I love them. I would play their CD’s while studying all the time. My favorite CD is Songs from the Big Chair.” You answer. 

“Mine too. My name is Shawn. Shawn Spencer.” He said.

“My name is Y/N. Nice to meet you.” You said.

You small-talked for a while, finding out the man with him is named Gus, despite Shawn attempting to give him a fake name. You also found out they work for and run a psychic detective agency. That made you laugh.

“What’s so funny?” He asked.

“You? You’re a psychic?” You asked.

“Is that so hard to believe?” He asked back.

“I mean, you don’t strike me as the ‘psychic’ type.” You said with air quotes.

“Here let me show you.” He said.

“You just finished your masters degree… that’s why you're here… you’re celebrating.” He said.

“Not bad.” You said, not quite impressed yet. “What’s my degree in?” You asked.

“My first assumption is being drop dead gorgeous, because it seems like you are an expert in that field. My second guess however, behavioral analysis.” He said.

“Wow. Color me impressed.” You said back. “One final question. Are you an Aries?” You asked.

“I am. How did you know?” He asked.

“You tell me. Maybe I’m a little psychic. Or maybe it’s hyper-observation, my masters degree, and a lucky guess.” You said.

He laughed. “Could I perhaps get your number?”

You looked over at your table to see Mikki and Janine staring at you. You held back a giggle as you wrote it down on a napkin and handed it over.

You strutted away to your table with your drink in hand. Your friends could barely hold back their excitement when you sat down and started smiling at them.

“So?” Janine asked.

“Are we the ‘first to know?’” Mikki asked, quoting you from earlier.

“You may just be.” You said.

~

Meeting up with Shawn became a pass-time. He often ran into you, claiming it was “fate” or “psychic abilities.” You still weren’t sold on the idea of being psychic. Everything you learned for your degree told you that he was probably just hyper-observant, but his skills prove to be almost superhuman sometimes. Maybe he was a lab experiment gone wrong. Or maybe it had something to do with his dad that he never talks about fondly. 

You learned a lot about him and he learned a lot about you too, and you found yourself falling for him. He was funny, quick-witted, had amazing but also questionable music taste, and was unfortunately incredibly good-looking.

He did seem to be sort of a womanizer, but you couldn’t blame him. You were also a sort of player, when you had time to be. In undergrad you broke many hearts, but once grad school started you didn’t have time for games, and you hoped that those days were over. You had a feeling that the games were just started now that you are getting involved with Shawn Spencer, but you still wanted to give it a try.

You got a call from Shawn while you were watching the channel 8 news.

“Hello?” You picked up.

“The owner did it.” He said. You were watching a report about a robbery at a local store. How he knew that you were watching the news, you didn’t know, but you had gotten used to that.

“Did the eye contact avoidance give it away to you too?” You asked him.

“You are good. Almost as good as me.” He said.

“Well I do have a degree.” You joked.

“You do indeed. Now, what would you say to a ride on my motorcycle and dinner under the stars?” He asked.

“I’d say that’s too good to be true. When do I need to be ready?” You asked back.

“Um, now?” He said.

You looked out your window and saw Shawn parked by your apartment building with a bouquet of flowers. 

“Be right out.” You said.

~

Shawn drove you to a beautiful clearing a bit out of the city on his bike. The sun was just setting and it made the whole area golden, including Shawn. He grabbed your hand and began walking towards the center of the clearing. Once you were past some of the higher grass, you saw a picnic basket and a big blanket, complete with two glasses and a big bottle of rosé.You chuckled thinking about Shawn buying what appeared to be an expensive bottle, and immediately realized it was probably with the help of Gus and his credit card. You made a mental note to get Gus a gift in return for Shawn spending his money.

Shawn led you to the blanket and then sat down, opening the picnic basket and pulling out all of your favorite picnic foods. You try to recall telling him your favorite foods, but you can’t. He’s either a really good psychic or an incredibly good stalker. You didn’t think too hard on that last thought as he looked up at you smiling. He took the glasses and poured you some of the champagne. You took a sip and let the alcohol burn your throat.

You didn’t talk much, just occasionally cracking jokes, taking sips, and picking at the food he brought. You rarely ever felt as content as you did in Shawn’s presence.

“You are so beautiful.” Shawn said, barely above a whisper while you were looking at the stars that recently became visible.

You turned to look him in the eyes to find he was looking at your lips. You hadn’t kissed him yet but god did you want to. It’s not that he hadn’t tried to before, because he had, you just wanted to play hard to get. You knew that tonight that you didn’t have that resolve.

He smiled as he lifted his eyes to meet yours. You were suddenly aware of how close he was; you could smell the mint toothpaste and rosé on his breath. 

“Please.” Is all he could muster to say, and with that single syllable your lips were on his. It was a sweet kiss, so sweet you wished it was your first kiss ever. His lips brushed over yours so gently you were afraid he was going to pull away. Instead, he leaned in further and deepened the kiss. His hand reached up to the back of your head to pull you even closer to him. You obliged, scooting closer on the picnic blanket and knocking over your half full champagne glasses onto the grass.

You reached up to place your hand on the back of his head. You couldn’t help yourself and you tugged lightly on the short hairs on the nape of his neck. At the feeling, he whimpered the slightest bit. To try and cover it up he lightly pushed you until you were on your back and he was hovering above you.

“That was a dirty move.” He said as his lips moved down to your neck teasingly. You tried to keep your composure but his words made you squirm a little and you felt him smile against the skin of your neck.

Things quickly picked up speed, and as he feverishly kissed your lips he put his knee in between your legs at the perfect spot. You did your best to rub against his knee without him noticing, but you failed. He pulled away from you.

“Tsk. Naughty, naughty.” He said, smirking.

“Shawn, please.” You said, frustration evident.

“Oh, poor thing. Do you want to fuck you right here in the field?” He said, mocking you. You moaned at his words. 

“No. I want our first time to be special. Get up.” He said and quickly got off of you. You just blinked at him in surprise and didn’t move. He reached a hand out to you. “Come on, I’ll take you back to my place.”

You reached up to grab his hand and he pulled you to your feet. He kept hold of your hand and started walking towards his bike.

“What about the picnic stuff?” You asked.

“Do you really care about that right now?” He asked back.

You smiled at him before shaking your head no. He smiled back and started pulling you towards his bike. You weren’t certain in the dark, but when he turned it looked like his jeans were becoming a little too tight for his comfort. 

Once you were both on the bike, he began flying towards his apartment. It was so fast but not fast enough, and you were needing more friction to soothe the problem Shawn had started. You tried to secretly grind down on the motorcycle seat. It was helping but not enough, so you began to pick up speed. Your breath was getting funny at the contact, and it was moments before Shawn noticed.

He didn’t stop you. Something about you getting off on his bike was making him go feral. He even fantasized about fucking you over top of it while you wore his leather jacket. He needed you as much as you needed him. It was then you both looked over and realized you were about to pass the Psych office. As much as he wanted to make your first time special, he had to have you right then and there, so he pulled over and hurried to the door, leaving you on the bike. You followed right behind him as he fiddled with the key to the door. 

He unlocked the door and pushed you inside, immediately finding your mouth with his in the darkness. He shut and locked the door behind him without ever leaving your skin. Your lips never left his as you both walked back until your knees hit the leather couch by the window and you sat back onto it. His lips left yours and he yanked his shirt over his head swiftly before returning to you. As you kissed him you fiddled with his belt until you were able to pull his pants down, showing off the tent in his boxers. You didn’t give him time to think before you yanked his boxers down, showing off his large cock.

“Woah, slow down.” He whined. “You’re still fully clothed.” 

You didn’t care, and you reached to grab his length, pumping him up and down. He threw his head back. You loved to see him like this, and while he was blissed out from the pleasure your hand was giving him, you put your mouth on him. 

“Oh Jesus, doll. You’re gonna kill me.” He said.

You bobbed up and down on his length, and what you couldn’t fit you stoked with your hand. He grabbed your hair back into a ponytail while you pleasured him, reaching your other hand down to rub yourself through your jeans.

“You feel so good.” He choked out. You could tell that he was resisting the urge to fuck your mouth. You released him with a pop and pumped him with your hand, feeling the wetness from your mouth and the precum leaking from his tip.

“I need you so bad.” He said, pupils blown out with lust.

“Come and get me.” You said back.

Wrong thing to say.

You had never had your clothes taken off of you so fast in your life. In seconds you were completely naked, on your back with him hovering over top of you. He lined himself up with your entrance before looking into your eyes.

“Tell me to stop.” He said.

“I can’t.” You said back. He gave you a swift kiss and then rested his forehead on yours as he pushed himself into you. You moaned in harmony with him. He waited for you to adjust to him before he moved.

“Just tell me when, sweetheart.” He said. You couldn’t make out words so you kissed him to signal you were ready.

He pushed in and out of you slowly, filling you up with each stoke. He was taking his time with you, savoring the moment of you under him on the leather couch. Everytime he comes back to work he's going to think of you taking his cock right here.

He started to speed up and you moaned. “Kiss me.” You said and he obliged. As he filled you up below, his tongue explored every inch of your mouth. Both of you were sweating, moaning messes.

You could feel yourself getting so precariously close to the edge. You knew you only needed a little bit more to get you there. It was at this moment that Shawn reached down and starting rubbing circles on your clit, adding just the right amount of pressure. How did he know that was what you wanted so badly? Maybe he is psychic. The way he touched you exactly where you wanted without you having to say a word made you think he just might be.

You were thrown headfirst over the edge. The feeling was so good you thought you might cry. His hips faltered as he pulled out of you clumsily, releasing all over your stomach. Before he got too soft, he shoved himself back into you and rested his head on your shoulder. You both panted as you came down from your highs.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you at the karaoke bar.” He said, still out of breath.

“Well after tonight, I think you’ll have many more chances to do it again.” You said and smiled. He returned your smile.

“Do you think we should probably leave now so we don’t forget to by the time Gus comes in in the morning?” You asked.

“That is the first time someone has mentioned Gus right after having sex.” He said.

“Shawn.” You said laughing.

He laughed too and got up to find something to clean you off with. After he cleaned you up, you both got dressed and rode back to his apartment, where he got to go at you all over again. You knew that no matter what, you would never forget your time with Shawn in the Psych office, mostly because he’d always be there to remind you of it.

#shawn spencer oneshot #shawn spencer #psych smut #psych fanfiction #psych #james roday rodriguez

[grimesgirll]

you jumped at the chance to babysit for rick grimes.

your mom didn’t have to repeat herself when she instructed you to arrive at rick’s early the next morning to give him some help with his baby girl.

not that you minded, but you babysitting for rick was a part of your mother’s larger plan to welcome the new arrivals into the community. it was an easy way for the survivors - namely their leader, rick - to warm up to everyone. and you had to put your half finished developmental psychology degree to use somehow.

you’re disappointed when you show up bright eyed and bushy tailed to be greeted by rick’s son carl, and not the dreamy sheriff himself.

carl is more than happy to pass off the bubbly little baby - who you learn is named judith- to you and dash out the door after giving you the rundown on her routine and lack thereof.

it doesn’t take long for judith to get used to you - or get into the habit of pulling your long hair. carl mentioned that she’d had a solid breakfast already this morning so you hunker down next to her playmat to tire her out in preparation for her next nap.

thoughts drift from tummy time to the absent head of the house. where was he? you knew part of the reason you had even begun babysitting was to help rick with childcare if he accepted his new position as constable, but you couldn’t think of anywhere else he would be.

and truth be told, you’re disappointed.

the first day the southerners had arrived, you looked on as rick stepped through the gates, judith in his arms. you’d been shocked to see a baby but you were even more enthralled by the hot suburban dad who’d landed on your doorstep.

not as old as your own father but nearly old enough to be, rick grimes had been blessed by age. his wild, grown out hair and tense but demanding disposition immediately attracted your attention.

it’s wrong; you shouldn’t be crushing on the man you’re babysitting for.

but you’ve been so bored!

let’s be clear: alexandria is your home. the safe zone provided more stability than the road could ever offer but survival was boring. at least inside of alexandria.

but out there?

whatever was out there was written all over the face of every new survivor your community had taken in. you’d heard bits and pieces; cannibals, maniacs on a power trip, robbers, corrupt cops even in the end of times.

and you could really see it on rick.

he had the demeanor of someone always scanning the room for the exit. you’ve never seen him so much as smile so it’s hard to imagine anyone like him adjusting or relaxing, even somewhere like alexandria.

your mother had theorized that some childcare could help ease the ex-cop’s anxieties, give him and carl a chance to breathe.

someone like that needs a lot more than a day away from the kids though. rick grimes needed an all inclusive vacation

and maybe a blowjob.

you tear yourself away from your wild thoughts about the rugged leader to turn your attention to the little girl hitting you with all of the sleepy cues at once. glancing at the clock, you decide it’s time for a nap and scoop up the eight month old. it’s not until you try to lay her down in the nursery that judith gives you your first problem.

seems like you had a velcro baby on your hands.

your hypothesis is proven correct during little judith’s second afternoon nap when you’re resigned to the living room armchair.

any attempts to place the little girl on her back, stomach, or side were met with tears. you’d just huffed and posted up on the rocking chair, ready to rock her for the duration of her nap.

it could be a pain but some babies just slept better hearing another heartbeat besides their own. it’s biology. judith is long out of the fourth trimester but that doesn’t exempt her from wanting to fall asleep in a pair of warm, snuggly arms. and besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do.

so you’re still curled up with judith when her father arrives in the afternoon.

gun holstered on his hip, the front door swings open to reveal rick grimes, looking much more like a resident of alexandria than he'd arrived. despite his new haircut and the difference that a shower makes, rick still looks pent up to you. like the feral man who'd shown up at your gates was just bubbling under the surface.

“hey there,” he greets once he registers your presence.

in his constable uniform, rick is even more handsome than you imagined all cleaned up. his chestnut curls are trimmed - courtesy of your neighbor, jessie - and he’s fully fitted like an officer of the law, and not an outlaw.

"oh, hi," you sit up and offer as much of a salutation you can being nap trapped.

"you must be deanna's daughter."

"that's me," you chirp, keeping your voice low to avoid waking up the little girl on your lap. "sorry, you caught us during naptime."

the southerner shakes his head. "no problem. looks like you got her down easy enough."

easy? you want to ask him to repeat that again but you just smile.

"i'm sorry i wasn't here earlier to introduce myself, i'm rick." the man extends his hand to you and you have to steel your nerves so he doesn't feel your hand shaking.

you're shocked when you hear confidence dripping from your voice as you give him your name. under his dark blue gaze, you want to squirm but you're holding it together somehow.

"you know, you can probably get out here early today. carl should be home soon."

you do your best to hide your disappointment. "leaving early on the first day?" you grin. "i think i like this job."

that earns you a chuckle from the sheriff who points to the sleeping baby you're holding. "i've got it from here if you wanna head out."

you don't but you put on your pearly whites and utter a peppy "sure!" handing over the still sleeping judith to her father.

"thanks for agreeing to this," rick commends you, eyes looking over the picture books and learning materials piled up in your arms. "i really appreciate having someone here to look after judith during the day."

“don’t worry about it, she’s such an angel, rick.”

"yeah, she is," he agrees, pausing to glimpse down at the napping infant. "i guess we'll be seein' you tomorrow?"

“whenever you need me.”

as his gaze follows you out the front door, rick is hard pressed to confirm if that was actual innuendo that came out of your mouth or just a generous offer.

he’s even more surprised to see you on his doorstep again after supper.

“hey,” you start. “i think i forgot one of my books here when i was watching judith. do you mind if i grab it?"

your burnt orange journal is right where you'd left it - intentionally - on the accent table in the upstairs hallway.

"oh, perfect! it's right here," you exhale in manufactured relief as if you hadn't left it there a few hours ago just for this purpose.

"is she down?" you ask rick in your best quiet voice.

he nods his hickory head of hair. "wanna see her?"

you nod enthusiastically and he leads you a few doors down the hall where you two pop your heads into a dark, curtain drawn room.

“how’s she been sleeping?” you ask innocently, following the father’s gaze to the sleeping infant lying peacefully in her crib.

“good enough,” he grunts. “all things considered.”

“how have you been sleeping?”

a chocolate eyebrow raises.

“you know, you have to get some sleep too.”

“isn’t that you’re for?”

rick must notice your reaction from the way he clears his throat and walks back his words, clarifying, “taking care of judith and all so i can,” he makes air quotes with his fingers, “rest.”

breathing deeply in an attempt to calm your racing heartbeat, you offer a smile with your exhale. “yeah, but that’s only during the daytime. she still has two wakeups at night, right?”

the man leaning in the doorway beside you shrugs. “two or three, give or take.”

“that’s a lot of time to be waking up at night.”

his ocean blue eyes twinkle as he shoots you a look and crosses his arms. “tell me about it.”

you motion towards the crib. “so i know judith likes to be held for naps, but have you ever tried room sharing with her? or even sleeping with her in the bed?”

rick gives you a quizzical look. “i thought you weren’t supposed to let them sleep in bed with you.”

“only if you’re a heavy sleeper,” you discern. “or if you drink or you’re a smoker.”

“really?”

you nod. “it’s called the safe sleep seven. its a big thing in other parts of the world." you draw an awkward breath. "not that there's anything wrong with watching her from the monitor," you refer to the device in his back pocket.

"well," rick runs a hand through his dark waves, stopping awkwardly at the end like he forgot about his haircut. "judith's always been held so it wouldn't shock me that that's how she likes to go sleep."

"did you have to snuggle her to sleep to get her down tonight?" your honeyed voice inquires curiously.

"i held her." he answers with a sigh.

"it makes sense. humans are programmed to want to be close to each other."

a silence settles over the two of you before rick clears his throat. "yeah, maybe i'll have to look into this sleep safe seven."

"i can bring a book next time i'm over," you offer. "i was a developmental psych major in college."

"so you have a degree to babysit?"

you roll your eyes. "i was supposed to end up doing research. you know," you gesture to judith in her nursery. "working with younger kids like her and figuring out what works best for them for sleep, learning to eat, the potty, play, school, all that."

"sounds like you're pretty smart," the ex-cop concludes.

you shrug. "smart enough."

with that, you two are walking down the stairs and you're heading towards the door when rick asks you if you'd like anything to drink.

you stop in your tracks, turning around on one heel. "you know, i'm kinda thirsty. i'll actually take a water."

rick's hands around the cold glass must be tattooed in your mind from how intently you're watching him. you thank him for the glass and gingerly take a sip, taking a moment to notice how his hands are braced against the counter. a cacophony of cracks erupt when the man rotates his neck and you can't help but laugh.

the older man frowns. “what’s so funny?”

“did you not hear the way your neck cracked?”

he shrugs it off. “gotta do it sometimes.”

“not like that,” you insist, glancing at his hands again, you get an idea. “why don’t you let me show you how you’re supposed to crack that?”

rick gives you a sideways glance.

“my roommate was in school to be a masseuse.”

“you don’t have to do that.” he says quickly.

you shake your head at him. “it’s not a problem. you can give me pointers.”

it’s wrong; rick shouldn’t be face down on the sofa in the house your mother had given him, getting a massage from her young twentysomething daughter.

and he most definitely shouldn’t be trying to hide an erection.

never would he have imagined getting a massage from a college student a week ago. like the haircut, rick wants to accept your community’s gifts with tact but that’s hard to do when your hands are kneading lower and lower down his back.

“when was the last time you relaxed, rick?”

the question comes out of nowhere and he almost wishes judith would pop up on the baby monitor to spare him from answering.

“can’t tell ya’.” he replied honestly.

you hum in response, observing as he twitches under your mischievous ministrations. rick didn’t have to go to massage therapy school to know that this massage is nowhere near professional. it’s downright racy as your fingers skim the top of his lower back.

god, he has a nice ass for a dad, you muse. you wonder what he’d look like fully nude on this sofa and if you weren’t touching him through his undershirt.

“that’s a little low.” the new constable remarks, calling you out.

you giggle. “i don’t know. i think the muscles down here really need some attention.”

rick hisses when you venture past his lower back and squeeze. he wants to say something but it feels so fucking good to have the tension manually worked out of his muscles.

“flip over.”

rick is about to bust out of his pants.

“flip over, please.”

the brunette finally complies; he wants to be embarrassed but doesn’t have a second for the emotion because you’re falling to your knees in front of him, pointing.

“want me to help you with that?”

“what?” he sputters.

“please, let me.”

wow, you want him. and who is he to deny you? not with how much of a roller coaster the past few have been; he should at least get to decompress.

“go ahead-,” rick doesn’t get another word out of his mouth before you’ve fully yanked his pants down and scootch further between his legs, attaching a hand to his waist. you slide his briefs down and are almost smacked in the face by the eight inch cock in front of you.

“rick…”

“if it’s too big, i understand.”

he starts to say something else but can only manage a gasp once you swallow the first few inches of his cock in your mouth. you ease your way back up to alternate between gripping his length and lapping at his precum covered head.

god, he can’t let deanna find out.

or spencer for that matter. no need to give your brother another reason for rick to be on his bad side.

he can’t be bothered to think about your family when you’re on your knees with his dick in your mouth.

“you’re doin’ so good for me, honey,” rick praises.

you moan deeply around his cock as you fit him further down your throat. it doesn’t take long for his hands to find your hair and suddenly his thick length is sliding down. you just swallow around him the best you can. you wonder if he’d believe you if you said you’d never had a dick this far down your throat.

it’s only once your windpipe starts to feel rick’s size that you raise your mouth up and off of the man in front of, catching a shallow few breaths before diving right back down to envelope him in your mouth.

rick can’t get enough of this. a hot, more than willing knockout of a woman on her knees with nothing but relieving his stress on her mind. and nothing was a hotter than a girl who actually wanted to give a blowjob, and by the way you’re hollowing your cheeks and pumping what doesn’t fit down your throat, he knows you’re loving this. a good girl like you deserves more than just his dick in her mouth.

“slow down, sweetheart.” he instructs, even though it takes a moment for you to slow the vigorous pace you’d committed to. “i wanna help you out too.”

your eyes widen with delight and he doesn’t have to tell you twice to come up on the sofa with him. instantly, rick is in between your legs and undoing the button of your jeans in order to pull them down to your ankles.

his thick cock jumps at the sight of your sopping panties.

blushing, you lift your hips as rick clutches and discards the undergarment on the floor. that’s when he gets the opportunity to take in your already soaked little hole. he can’t help himself from slipping a finger in and driving it deeper at the sound of your raspy squeaks. the same noise comes out of you once he gives you another. you must’ve wanted this for a while from the way you coat his fingers. you’re wiggling and rotating your hips like they’re on fire and he only has two digits inside of you.

“easy, girl,” he warns and you pout as you struggle not to buck your hips.

“i need you, rick,” you gasp. “feel you in my core. i’m so hot for you right now.”

you so are. rick thinks and adds another finger.

not only are you making his dick swell more than he thought it could but your insides are hot. that tight little core is choking his three fingers like a boa constrictor.

“i’m gonna come on your fingers,” you make him aware, hoping he’ll move you to his cock.

“go right ahead, sweetheart.”

so you do.

you let out a muffled sob into his shoulder. he doesn’t stop scissoring his fingers into you until he removes them from your reluctant cunt. your mouth opens automatically when he lifts his sticky digits to your mouth. enthusiastically, you let him slip them into your mouth and suck until they come out clean.

you can barely respond to the “good girl,” he’s whispering huskily into your ear because your lips are pressed to his. disregarding the fact that your pussy is dripping all over the new sofa, you fold into the kiss.

where have you been? you wonder while his tongue starts to pick a fight with yours. the fact that you’re suddenly in his lap doesn’t register until you feel his hand on the small of your back.

“you’re up,” he whispers in your ear before shifting you on top of him.

you only understand what he means when you suddenly feel like you’re being torn in half. “fuck,” you exhale, conscious not to be too loud as to wake up the baby upstairs.

from his rapid breaths into your bust, you can tell that’s holding back.

“rick,” you whine.

fingertips find your hips just as your arms wrap around his neck and you’re holding on for dear life as the constable starts lifting and lowering you on his cock.

“god,” you cry through gritted teeth.

rick is fucking you just like you thought he would.

he doesn’t wait for you to roll your hips or ride him, no, he just fucks you. yeah, you’re on top but rick is the one pounding into you from below. you feel every ridge and vein on his impossibly thick cock as you brings you up and down on top of him.

this is the fucking that you expected from the dauntless, untamed man that rolled through your gates with his equally intimidating allies. you wonder how long it’s been since rick had a good fuck. by the way he ruthlessly spears you on top of him, you know it’s been months at least. you conclude it probably wasn’t for his lack of skill though, not with how he maintains a delicious pressure on your clit with those same digits he used on you earlier.

your core is calling again: this time it’s lava hot. whatever tension rick had you dripping at earlier is no comparison to the overwhelming internal buzz pulsing inside of you.

“fuck, honey, you’re gushin’ around me.”

you look down. he’s right; you’ve made a slick mess of both of your laps. the words to respond don’t make it to your mouth because rick is once again picking up the pace.

every time you coil around him, rick just adopts a more devastating pace. it’s like after months of going without, he’s doing everything in his power to be as deep inside of you as possible. any deeper and he’d be back in your throat.

“you gonna come again on my cock, baby?” the brunette murmurs in your ear.

“yes, sir.” you croak, not having the capacity to comprehend what your words were doing to him. unless your body and the mind of its own it had counted.

your core is reacting right on time to rick’s consistent teasing. “that’s it,” he encourages, applying even more pressure despite your shaking legs. every time you sink down onto him, you feel full to the hilt.

“ah, fuck.”

rick’s orgasm hits before your finale; nonetheless, his tightening embrace and desperate thrusts into you are just what you need. the contrast of your hot core with rick’s warm cum should make you sick with worry and maybe something else but you’re too fucked out and drawn into your peak to care.

sweat coats your brow and your hair is sticking up in every direction but you’re just swallowed up by the tightening in your core. swallowed by how full you feel. you feel like you could make even more of a mess on top of rick.

the jolt that reverberates through your core this time is galvanizing. you wonder if there was anything before this orgasm.

head laid forward against his chest, perfectly glistening tits rising and falling with each full breath, you are at peace. who knew that relieving rick of his stress could bring you so much pleasure?

and when you look up at him, all you can do is offer a pupil blown smile.

he might just like alexandria.

#the walking dead #rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes imagine #twd imagine #twd smut #rick x reader #ricky dicky doo da grimes #constable rick #not beta read #grimesgirll #reader was a developmental psych major before the apocalypse #happy 15 days to this blog lol #reader is really forward #reader has rick rabies #blowy #p in v sex

[s-brant]

Stay

With his pregnant wife with ordered to rest by the maesters until her labors begin, Aemond must find new ways of entertaining her.

4k (18+)

Warnings: smut, p in v, hair-pulling, come swallowing, strong language, and pregnancy. this can be read as a stand alone or part three to Judas.

-

Pregnancy has coaxed out a new side of Aemond.

Of course, he had always been protective and caring, even when he was trying to stifle his feelings for her in the first few months of their union, but once she was with child, it intensified. From having the handmaidens tend to her every minute of every day to insisting upon following her around as though he is one of the royal guards assigned to protect her. It is always toned down in the presence of others due to his general discomfort with public displays of affection, but everyone noticed his constant proximity to her whenever he wasn't attending to his duties as a prince.

"You needn't breathe down my neck, I am quite capable of doing this myself," she said when he had once insisted upon helping her bathe once she got into the late stages of her pregnancy.

Truth be told, she did appreciate his incessant caregiving, but when caregiving shifted into being treated as though she was weak, that positive mindset soured slightly. Still, she rolled her eyes and allowed him to help her into the sunken tub filled with steaming hot water and bathing oil that gave off an aromatic lavender scent. He could tell that underneath it all, there was a part of her that enjoyed being looked after. A part of her that reveled in the protective nature he allowed to take control once her belly began to swell noticeably with his child.

The maesters suspect she will go into labor at any moment and insisted upon her getting bed rest during the day in preparation for it. So, that is what she has been doing all day long, and it threatens to drive her mad.

"Truly, how much more needlework and reading can I do? I have read nearly every book in the library at this point. Can you not escort me to the Dragonpit to visit Vermithor?" Y/N asks Aemond from where she lays back against the headboard with a hand cradling her round belly.

Clad in nothing but her shift to keep herself from sweating in the summer heat, she is left with nothing to do, and in her ill-tempered mood, she has resorted to begging her husband for his assistance. Unfortunately for her, Aemond is equally as cautious regarding her condition as the maesters. The very last thing he would do is encourage her to exert herself with a trip to the Dragonpit.

He offers her a stern look as he dresses for the day in the morning light that shines on his half-nude figure. The eyepatch he wears in the presence of everyone else sits on the table behind him, allowing her to admire how the sapphire eye glitters in the sun. While he cuts her a commanding stare, she trails her eyes down the length of him. The shade of his skin is strikingly pale against the warm colors decorating their shared chambers, only shadowed in the areas where skin dips into muscles to emphasize the strong lines of his abdomen. And, of course, he notices the hunger that is present in her gaze but says nothing about it.

"I cannot escort you anywhere outside these rooms, ābrazȳrys." Wife. "Tis my babe inside of you. If the maesters order you to rest, your duty commands you to listen."

He doesn't miss how her eyes follow the movement of his hands as they button his trousers. Filthy little thing, she is. His suspicions are confirmed by the smirk she gives him when she next speaks.

"Perhaps you could distract me some other way?" She hooks a finger around the hem of her shift to lift it slowly up her thighs. A muscle in his jaw tightens at the sight of her baring herself to him without anything to protect her modesty. "You know, I heard the strangest thing from Nyla"—one of their handmaidens—"a day ago. She said that a healer she once met told her that coupling with one's husband can induce childbirth."

Aemond stares at her with predatory intent, as though he's considering it for a moment, then shakes his head. Although they have pleasured one another in other ways, they have not had sex since her bump began showing. It was already scandalous for them to continue their marital duties after the pregnancy was confirmed, to do so when she's heavily pregnant would be even worse.

"We have been through this," he says. "It is not proper."

She does not miss a beat.

"Says who?"

Neither does he.

"The maesters, along with every other upstanding person of noble birth such as ourselves." He pauses, then says before she gets the chance to, "Aegon excluded."

A wry laugh escapes his dear wife at this, and she can't help how the beautiful sound is cut short by the feeling of the babe kicking her palm. Those pretty eyes go wide as she reaches out with her other hand in an invitation for him to come to her. Based upon the panic that flashes across his face, though, he must mistake her excitement for fear. A fraction of a second later, he's already at her side before she can hear the heavy footfalls on the floor.

"What is it?" he asks, throat constricted with terror.

She smiles at him. It's a lovely, placating type of smile, and it washes away every worry present in his head when he sees it. Wordlessly, she takes his hand, calluses and rough from sword fighting, in hers and places it on the top of her bump where the movement can be felt.

"Feel," she whispers.

Her fingers mold overtop of his to keep his flattened palm pressed down on her. Beneath both the linen fabric of her shift and her warm skin he feels it.

"He must be coming soon. He's in the right position for birthing."

Then, her head tilts back to allow her to look up at him in on. It's unfathomable to her— the fact that a child is dwelling within. Not only a child but their child. She can't help but wonder what they will look like or which one of them they will favor. It's all too easy to picture what she may see as soon as a few days or weeks from now. Aemond, half-dressed as he is now, with their newly-born son resting against his chest as they lay together in the quiet of their rooms. The babe will look so small, so fragile and new, when cradled against his Kepa's larger body. And when she pictures that, she feels complete in a way she never has before.

It seems that he is having similar feelings when his eyes light up at her hopeful declaration. What she doesn't know is that he is imagining the very same thing, yet reversed. His mind conjures the image of their days-old daughter suckling at her breast, making soft coping noises throughout. Although he has never known himself to be the tender-hearted type, that thought warms him to the bone.

He rubs the spot where the babe kicked as though to soothe it in the only way they'll understand at this point in their development. No spoken words or language yet, just the communication of touch. The same instinctual form of communication animals use to soothe their children. The touch is firm yet soothing. Constant in a way that one's father should always be yet rarely ever is. It says, "Kepa is here. Don't fret. We will meet you soon."

"She," he starts, meeting her gaze with a stoic face, "will come tomorrow. Helaena told me so when we dined with mother last night."

Her eyes narrow.

"Helaena, I believe. However, you, dearest, are not a dreamer. You cannot know the babe is a girl. I, on the other hand, can sense it. We will have a male heir. One whose birthright will never be disputed as mine has been."

The part about wanting a male heir out of fear for their claim to the throne being challenged causes his mouth to shift into an imperceptible frown. Most people do not know how to read those changes in his expression, but she can. Since her pregnancy began, she has become well-versed in his non-verbal cues. For now, he bypassed the worry she so vulnerably laid before him. That is a matter they can discuss later.

He asks, head tilting slightly in curiosity, "You can sense it?"

"Yes, of course," she says and weaves her fingers into his to hold his hand. "There is such a thing as motherly intuition."

To this, he hums quietly, and it's such a distinctly him thing to do that she finds herself fighting a smile.

"If motherly intuition does, in fact, exist, why would my intuition as her father be any less accurate?"

She stifles a laugh at this, easily recognizing from his tone that he is merely teasing her. Something he never once pictured himself doing with his eventual wife. A marriage of duty was what he anticipated, yet this is far from it. He realizes right now that he would do anything for her. He would die for her if it came to that, but not just because their wedding vows brought her under his protection and Daemon would hunt him to the ends of the earth should anything happen to her. It's because he cares.

Y/N cups the bottom of his chin in her free hand and forces him a bit closer to say, "Because I am your very pregnant, very ill-tempered wife, and I said so. If you dare to question my authority, I may be inclined to use your knife on you again." There's a pause. "Also, while I have your obedience, I would like to dine with the family tonight one last time before our son arrives."

Although they both know they are jesting, Aemond's eye darkens the second she calls him obedient.

"If you were not carrying my daughter, I would bend you over my knee for that."

It's wholly true, and she knows that. He did it once before but knew the whole time she was simply allowing it to occur as a result of her own sexual gratification. He knew that if she wanted, she would break free and have him fleeing her wrath on Dragonback.

She smirks and pulls him closer until their lips nearly brush.

"Don't say those things if you are refusing to fuck me. It is cruel," she whispers. "It arouses me, and you know I cannot satisfy myself the way you can."

His body goes still in the wake of her brazen confession.

Knowing she has him right where she wants him, she decides to hammer the idea home. The strap of her shift has "accidentally" fallen from her shoulder as she kisses him just long enough to entice but not satisfy.

"Lest you've forgotten, the maesters told me to wait five weeks after the birth to allow myself to heal before taking you to bed again." The tremble in his exhale brings a triumphant gleam to her eyes, and she pulls her mouth back out of reach to tease him as he leans in to kiss her. "It would be a pity to waste such precious time, would it not?"

Their lips brush, and the hand that holds his chin breaks away to palm at his half-hard cock through his trousers. It swells eagerly beneath her touch after ages of restraint and self-pleasure, growing harder by the second until he is fully, painfully needing her.

"Come," she says and spreads her legs in invitation. "What the maesters tell you is largely myth and outdated theories. The babe will remain unharmed."

At last, the patience of her devoted husband runs thin, and he is unable to stop himself from kissing her with an unashamed lust that indicates she will be getting what she wants. The suspicion is proven true when he kneels on the mattress between her legs to crawl onto her without breaking the passionate, open-mouthed kiss shared between them. But before he can try to settle his weight atop her and prevent her from reaching for his trousers, she finds the waistband with fumbling hands. This halts him for just the right amount of time—long enough for her to undo the button and push the clothing, along with his small clothes, down his slender hips.

The disappointment he feels at her refusal to allow him to bury his fingers or head between her thighs in hopes that she will be satisfied without penetration is visible on his face. Yet he says nothing. In truth, he cannot do anything to stop this. If he truly did not wish to fuck her, it would be easy to deny her. The issue at hand is that he does wish to, and now that his cock is being pumped in her hand as he stares down at her pleading eyes, it no longer matters to him what is proper or not.

It's when she starts to guide him to her sweet cunt that he realizes that she would have had the chance to thwart his sabotaging efforts no matter how quickly she pulled his trousers down. What halts them in their tracks is the protruding belly, larger than it was the last time he took her to bed, preventing him from laying comfortably against her.

This would be the perfect opportunity for him to redirect himself back to his original intentions, but, instead, he says, "Turn over."

Her cheeks burn hot at this, at the sheer commanding nature of his words, before she obliges him. She turns over cautiously to avoid falling on her stomach and settles into a semi-comfortable position on her hands and knees, back arched just so to present herself to him. Though she cannot see it, he smiles.

His voice is soft yet stern when he next speaks.

"Down onto your arms," he says. "It will feel better that way."

She stares daggers at him over her shoulder and asks, half jesting, half jealous, "We have never done it this way, so how would you know, husband?"

Aemond rolls his eye at her dramatics.

"You already know, now do as I command."

He isn't wrong. They've been quite honest with one another about their past transgressions with members of the opposite sex, although hers was little more than a shy peck on the cheek while his were, well...Aegon took him to a brothel on his thirteenth name day, that much she knew before they were wed due to her eldest uncle's loose lips, but what no one else knows, save for her, is that he had a few lovers. Likely a result of the time he was taken to a brothel, he never sought his pleasure out with whores.

It began accidentally. He didn't intend to fuck a widowed lady in court, but it happened, and he was glad it was her. From then on, he followed the rules unintentionally set by his first time after the brothel. The first rule, of course, was to never lie with a maiden to prevent ruining her reputation and being forced to marry below his station as consequence.

The second was to never go back to the same woman more than a few times. This kept his time with them to a minimum and prevented any of his lovers from forming delusional attachments. Another rule was to never kiss them, and, the last, most important one was to never finish inside them. Though she was overwhelmed with jealousy upon first starting this conversation with him, his explanation for the last rule did well to soothe her.

It did not matter whether he chose to fuck whores in brothels or older women of noble birth, no one but his wife deserves the seed of a dragon prince. He would not dishonor her by fathering a bastard, he explained. Not like his brother did many times to poor, sweet Helaena.

So, she does already know that his skill at pleasing her comes from his experiences with the older women who now have husbands again, who sometimes try to meet his gaze as they pass to no avail. Still, it doesn't make her less jealous, nor does it make teasing him any less fun.

Y/N hardly has the time to shift her weight down onto her forearms before he nudges his cock into her with his hands gripping her full hips until his knuckles turn white.

"Aemond!" she cries out in surprise at the sudden intrusion, but it soon gives way to a soft giggle. Her explanation comes seconds later, once she has regained her composure. "I will hear no complaints of me forcing myself on you later. You are just as responsible."

The first few motions of his hips pushing in and away from her are tentative, holding back when his fingers brush her belly to remind him of her condition. In spite of his guilt for doing this, it feels too good to stop after months of nothing but his hand and, sometimes, her mouth when he wakes to the sensation of her sucking him deep into her throat. That is good, always, but this is incomparable, and it has been so long that he almost forgot. But, it's impossible to forget now. Not when he feels her rocking her hips back against him, meeting his thrusts at a pace that encourages him to keep up.

The pillow is soft on her cheek where it sinks into it with one of her hands gripping the corner for dear life. Soft noises leave her without realization as Aemond finally lets go of his reservations and surrenders to the primitive instinct that tells him to fuck her. He cannot wholly allow his instinct to take over, however. If he did, he'd get far rougher than he's comfortable being with her in this condition. It's a constant battle to keep himself from unleashing the full extent of his lust, ages in the making, on her the way they both enjoy.

Although he's holding back, she reacts with an enthusiasm often reserved for nights when he brings her to release over and over again. Anyone else would think she is exaggerating, but he knows her well. He knows that all this time they've abstained has made her ravenous, and from the times he has brought himself to his peak alongside her with her fingers trapped between her thighs, he knows pregnancy has made her a touch more sensitive.

He lets one hand leave her hip to clasp over her mouth and muffle the lovely little gasps and moans. His cock plunged into her harder as if in punishment for being too loud, hitting a spot that makes her squeeze her walls around him and whine into the hand over her mouth. His other hand uses its hold on her hip to tug her back to meet him stroke for stroke, quickly forgetting his internal promise to be gentle. It isn't nearly as intense as usual, but she can sense it. She can sense that he's starting to give himself over to the pleasure and allow himself to enjoy it.

"Quiet," he snaps and presses his palm harder against her lips to force them shut. His words seem to have the opposite of the intended effect, if the way she cries out has anything to show for it. "If the servants hear and gossip about me defiling you like this, Aegon will never stop talking about it."

The hand over her mouth leaves for an instant to reach for the belt looped into his undone trousers. Her body jolts with every hard thrust, and she cannot help how she moans now that her mouth is uncovered.

She yelps in surprise when he pushes the leather between her teeth and says, "Bite on this."

There's nothing else for her to do but listen.

It does a satisfactory job at keeping the sounds confined to their chambers. Not as well as his hand, but it will have to work. It allows him to hear her and revel in every sound without worrying too deeply about servants overhearing. If anything, he is the one who now risks getting them caught with how he groans and sighs with every smooth, wet drag of his cock inside of her.

The physical sensation is so overwhelming and euphoric, it almost feels torturous to him. Knowing that he cannot live in this moment forever is the cruelest form of torment he's endured, even above Lucerys blinding him and Aegon encouraging his nephews to bully him for lacking something they were all born with the privilege of having.

They made him feel inadequate, small, and he cannot deny the truth in what she said to him once before, in the midst of their coupling, regarding him deriving a sick pleasure from having stolen their sister away and making her his own. Fucking her full of heirs and taking solace in the fact that it is his blood, not the blood of the Strong bastards, that will continue their family's great dynasty. It's invigorating. Vindicating, even.

The muffled sounds of her moaning as he watches her, transfixed by the urge to wrap his hand up in the curtain of white silver running down her back like a flash of shooting starlight, brings him so close, he can almost feel it. His eye squeezes shut to allow him to focus on preventing himself from coming before she can, and it's only when he feels he's regained control over himself that he warns her.

"I won't last much longer," he says, breathless.

She knows that the words in and of themselves are an apology, so she shakes her head and murmurs, too far gone at this point, "Don't care."

There's a groan from behind her, then a harsh snapping of his hips against her ass as he says, "I do."

The feeling of the rough pads of his fingertips rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs has her writhing under him. She's grasping onto the pillow with one hand and braces the other on the headboard to keep her head from hitting it with the force of how he fucks her. Teeth biting down on leather, she cannot do much else than take it. She cannot call his name or warn him of her imminent climax, but she does not need to. By now, he knows when she's close to her peak by the feeling of her cunt spasming around him.

It's an addictive feeling. So much so that he doesn't quite enjoy his peak if it doesn't involve feeling, hearing, and witnessing hers first. It never fails to drag him under.

Another brush of his fingers against her, along with a well-aimed thrust, is all it takes to send her careening over the edge.

Her jaws goes slack and allows the belt to fall onto the pillow as she cries out for him at the intense crest of the wave that overtakes her. It's a mumbling, incoherent mixture of expletives, as well as his name, that pushes him closer to his satisfaction to hear it. To think that the beautiful creature beneath him, rendered useless in his hold and swollen with his child, is solely his and his alone is a fact he can hardly comprehend. All he can think as he chases his release is that he loves her. They have yet to say it, but he feels it. It's the kind of love that starts wars and ruins lives, and that is the most startling revelation he's ever had.

It takes little time—seconds, actually—for Aemond to succumb to the near-explosive feeling he has tried to stave off for the sake of satisfying his wife first. He is careful enough, even in the blissful reverie of climax, to not let his weight go on top of her and risk making her uncomfortable. Or injuring her or the babe in any way. Although exhausted from the relentless exertion, his body finds a way to hold itself up after he collapses onto her back and continues to rut into her as he fills her sensitive cunt with his seed until there's nothing left to give.

His softening cock slips out of her after he's taken the better part of a moment to come back down from the heavens she sent him to, and Y/N whines at the sudden emptiness. It isn't uncommon for him to remain inside of her long after they've finished sometimes. The first time it occurred, it was a result of mutual exhaustion, but the next time, it was a conscious choice.

His chest rises and falls rapidly with his panting breaths as his eye flutters shut for a second as though to take the time to burn the image of her now into the back of his mind. When he opens it again and moves back to see his come leaking from her hole, he has to keep himself from flipping her onto her back and kissing her sweet cunt until she's licked clean and lacks any evidence of the sin he committed today. But, he can't. He was already meant to be meeting Criston in the training yard, and nothing would be worse than the knight searching for Aemond only to find out he's been locked away in his chambers with his wife.

To pacify himself, he swipes his middle and forefinger between her slick folds to gather some of the dripping fluid on them. His other hand wraps itself up in her hair as he wanted it to moments ago to gently pull her head up from being buried in the pillow. Her head turns to the side only enough to allow him to see the side of her face, and he doesn't need to say anything to get her to open her mouth for him. All he does is bring it to her lips as he waits for her to obey his wordless command, wrapping her lips around his fingers and moaning at the salty taste on her tongue before swallowing it all.

When he watches this, he can't stop thinking to himself that he's lucky. Not only does he have a rare jewel of a woman as his wife and future Queen, but he also has a wanton whore who is quick to comply with his every wish and begs him to fuck her even when she is far along with child. Desperate for him and him alone.

"Mmm," he hums in approval at how she sucks his fingers clean and loosens his grip on her hair until it falls loose around her shoulders again. The hand that held back her hair slides down her back and rubs in soothing strokes up and down the length of her spine. The next words are barely a push of air, spoken so quietly that no one else in the world could overhear. "Sȳz riña." Good girl.

With his fingers falling from her lips, she sinks back down into the bed and rolls onto her back to allow herself the pleasure of looking at her husband. The adoration visible in her gaze never fails to catch him off guard. No one ever looks at him like that. With such fondness. Not even his own parents or siblings.

"Umbagon lēda nyke tubī, ñuha jorrāelagon?" Stay with me today, my love? "Jikagon udir naejot Criston bona iksan tolī va naejot ñuha sikagon syt ao naejot henujagon ñuha paktot. Umbagon kesīr, sagon iā sȳz valzȳrys, se qogralbar aōha ābrazȳrys ēva se tubis iksis toliot." Send word to Criston that I am too near to my labors for you to leave my side. Stay here, be a good husband, and fuck your wife until the day is gone. Her bold request draws a scoff from him. A second passes, then she says softly in the common tongue, "You have been quite protective of me as of late. I am sure people will not think anything of it."

There's a second of contemplation during which he weighs the costs and benefits. On one hand, he does need to train and maintain appearances in court. On the other...Well, he would very much like to spend the day in bed with her, testing out the theory the handmaiden presented to her about sexual activity inducing childbirth.

Screw Criston, he thinks.

"Sagon careful skoros ao epagon yno. Kostā jiōragon ziry," Aemond says to give her one last chance to rescind the offer. Be careful what you ask of me. You may get it.

Her expression turns stony as she asks, looking up at him through her lashes like she once did as a demure little cocktease of a newlywed, "Ao kivigon?" You swear?

And in the midst of the night, after a day of laying together—reading, fucking, talking, and giggling like little kids—they discover the theory regarding sex and childbirth to be true, and it's in the late hours of the morning that their little dragon finally decides to greet them in the form of a wailing infant girl.

-

Tag list: @m-indkiller, @tinykryptonitewerewolf, @hopebaker, @bcon24, @eleganttravelercloud, @aemond-targaryenx, @the-blue-banshee, @saramayu, @merakiaes, @its-sam-allgood, @grungegrrrl, @singitoutgirl26, @scarlettmoon98, @cicaspair418, @itisjustwhatitis, @cl-0-vr, @d34d-4c1d, @hargrovehoe, @vainillasmil157, @leahjean, @captainweirdo42, @magnificantmermaid, @dark-night-sky-99, @kaicyl, @ladybug0095, @bellaisasleep, @blackravena, @isaxbella749, @reneki, @heylosers06, @izzicle, @bucky-thorin-winchester, @hangmanscoming, @harrypotteranna23-blog, @fan-goddess, @glame, @muthafuckingstargirl, @barnes70stark, and @shintax-error​.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #fanfiction #wrote most of this in my notebook at the psych ward last month ✌️

[feasibilities]

Psychosomatic | Jonathan Breech x Inpatient!Reader

Warnings: Public Sex, Dub-Con, Pet Names, Cockwarming, Mutual Masturbation, etc.

Author's Note: Just a refurbished idea I wanted to share. Jonathan Breech is a skank, obviously. Enjoy!

“You’re a pretty one, yeah?” Jonathan said, staring at you from the driver’s side of his stolen convertible. He managed to find an empty parking lot behind a pub. The air was brisk. Your heart was beating out of your chest and his words nearly stopped it. You two just broke out of a mental institution—it was Jonathan’s idea completely. The consequences included solitary confinement and a lifetime membership at the institute. You were happy to see the outside, but you were deathly afraid of being caught. 

Sensing your anxiety, he put his hand on your thigh and kneaded it gently. His palm was soft and warm. Jonathan dreamt of caressing your smooth legs every time you wore your pajama shorts. It was hard to ignore his piercing gaze when you removed that frumpy sweater once in a blue moon. You were away from prying eyes. He had you all to himself. To him, this was kismet. 

Leaning in closer, he kissed your jawline. You whimpered and turned away. You were attracted to him, but all you could think about was that traumatic incident that landed you in the institution in the first place. 

“What’s wrong, love?” Jonathan inquired. 

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry for leading you on. I’m not meant for this sort of thing.” You admitted, tearing up. 

“We don’t have to fuck if you don’t want to. I just wanted to feel you up a bit, “s all.”  He explained. 

You remembered that you only went to 3rd base with a guy in Year 5. He was not experienced at all and he was the only one who got to finish. You swore you were getting a pap smear. Would it really hurt to try again with a guy who seemed like he cared? 

“Fine. Touching and kissing only, Jon.” You relented. 

“Fine with me, doll.” He agreed. 

This time, he kissed your lips tenderly. They were as soft as you imagined. You kissed him back hesitantly while he moved his hand to buttons of your pajama shirt. He undid each one without looking as if he planned this.  With no bra underneath, the cool air made your nipples harden. His warm hands found one of your breasts. His kissing became more impassioned as his thumb flicked the delicate sprout. You moaned sweetly and touched his crotch. You were stunned to feel a throbbing hard-on. Pulling away, Jonathan stared at you with carnal eyes.  

“See what you’ve done to me, darlin’? ” He agonized, rutting against your hand. 

You shyly slid your hand in his pants and wrapped your fingers around his shaft. Growing impatient, he pulled his pants down slightly and began moving your hand up and down. 

“C’mon, we don’t have all day, love.” Jonathan urged. 

You moved his hand and pumped slowly. You made sure to squeeze a bit tighter when you would meet the tip. You saw his plump lips part as an enchanting moan left his throat. You felt wetness gather in between your legs. Feeling a bit courageous, you spit in your hand and continued your movements. His piercing blue eyes fluttered closed. 

“Fuck…I’m already close.” Jonathan hissed. You kissed him to hush him up. This time, you nipped at his bottom lip and slipped your tongue in his mouth. Jonathan whimpered in response. Pumping faster, you began nibbling on his earlobe. His hand found your breast once more. You slid your hand into your shorts and began rubbing your clit. He suddenly snatched your hand away and stared at you with dark eyes. 

“I’m sick of waitin’, yeah? Get in the back.” He demanded, slapping your thigh lightly. You went to follow his orders and laid on the backseat. Following behind you, he removed what was left of your clothing. You shivered at the cool autumn air. Seemingly unaffected, he teased the tip of his dick against your entrance before sliding in. You moaned loudly and arched your back. Pressing his forehead against yours, he thrusted harshly and held the back of your head. His gorgeous bore into yours. 

“I…I can’t take it.” You whimpered. 

“Yeah?” He teased, thrusting deeper. The burn from the unfamiliar feeling started to subside. He fucked any remaining defiance out of you. 

“I’m all yours, Jon.” You moaned, tears welling up in your eyes. 

He kissed you sweetly and dug his fingernails into your hips. Shockwaves of bliss were sent through your body with each movement. Your moans became screams as Jonathan rutted into you desperately. You cycled through countless orgasms before he flipped you over. Entering you once more, he pressed your face into the seat. 

“Fuck, stay just like that.” He panted. You cried out at his merciless actions. You suspected he was using you as a way to release his anger. His thrusts staggered as finished inside of you. A loud groan left his throat. His eyes rolled back and his entire body shook. Lying down with you, he pulled you close and held you tightly. He kissed your shoulder lovingly. 

#on the edge #jonathan breech #cillian murphy #2000s movies #jonathan breech x reader #psych ward #cillian murphy smut #my writing

[ghouljams]

PLEASE CAN WE HAVE MORE KÖNIG WITH HIS LIL DEMON

I will always write more of König and Fetch.

König jolts in his chair, knees hitting the underside of his desk as your hands slide over his thighs. He looks down at you in a panic, your eyes glowing in the relative shadow of his desk, then across the wood at the Lieutenant standing at attention. The soldier's nerves and concern radiate off of him, eyes fixed to König as he tries to put his composure back together. KorTac runs a tight ship, König runs a tight ship, he can't have his men thinking he's got... women under his desk. Or one woman in particular. A very determined one who rubs her cheek against his knee and attempts to push closer.

"Dismissed Lieutenant." König tells the man.

"But Colonel, I haven't finished my-"

"Dismissed." König says more forcefully, the man straightens past perfect and nods before artfully scrambling out of the office. König sags back against his chair, drags a hand down his covered face. You are going to be the death of him.

"Fetch," he groans, exasperation coloring his tone, "What are you doing Schöne?"

"You seem tense." You nuzzle closer against his thigh, pulling yourself further from the shadows. König rests his elbow on the arm of his desk chair, his cheek against his knuckles as he stares you down. 

"I have been out of the field for," he takes a deep breath, rubs his eyes, "too long now." You hum, and fingers dragging up his thighs to his belt. "You will excuse me if I am-"

"Tense."

"Not entertaining you." König corrects. You pout, your fingers stilling. You don't need entertaining, that's just rude. You've been perfectly content sitting in König's shadow while he did all his silly busy work. You listened to all the stupid whining from the other KorTac operators, and watched your commanding officer give orders with an ever growing hunger. 

To say you were obsessed with the brutal efficiency with which König operated was an understatement. If you'd thought it was only his kills which had bought him a demonic companion you were witnessing first hand how incorrect an assumption that was. You've never seen a man command such degrees of respect and fear.

"Then let me entertain myself." König hums, eyes flicking to the door. You're getting better at reading him, but you can't tell if that's anxiety or amusement in his eyes.

"Lock the door, Fetch." He says after a moment. You hardly waste the time it would take to get up, flicking your wrist in the general direction of the office door to hear the metal click of the lock turn. The rest of your focus is on opening König's belt. He slides forward, closer to the edge of the chair, legs spreading wider on either side of you. You're not one to pass up an open invitation.

You pull his cock free of his pants and whine at the sight of it. Even soft he's a beast of a man. At some point you have to find whoever matched you to him and thank them. Truly they are doing the devil's work. 

You push up onto your knees and press your lips against the length of his cock, tongue darting out to taste his skin with a pleased hum. König wraps a hand around one of your horns, a firm reminder of his authority. Not that you need it. Oh no you are always well aware of his status as your superior officer and summoner. That's half the fun of being summoned in the first place, knowing you're at his command, or at his feet in this particular instance. 

"I told you Schöne, I can't entertain you." He reminds you, setting the paper down to sign before picking up another. You pull off with a frown, that gets his attention. König pushes at your horn, tipping your head back to look at him with a smile in his eyes. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” He clarifies, “I meant do whatever you want.”

Your drooling is working well for you so far, slicking König's quickly hardening cock enough to stroke it. His thick length is already too much to get your fingers all the way around. You're better with your mouth anyway, always mindful of your teeth when you close your lips around the head of his cock to suck. Tongue circling while your hand twists and pumps his length. You just remember to glance at König, too focused on your work. He's reading over a report, eyes scanning the paper as you bob your head down his cock. You whine, desperate for a shred of his attention.

Your eyes go wide. Whatever you want? He nods, and pulls your horn to press your face against his cock. As previously mentioned, you’re not one to pass up an open invitation. Quick to start pumping his cock with your fingers again as you duck your head to lick his balls. Dragging your tongue along the thin sensitive skin, feeling the texture of his coarse hair. Whatever you want? Oh you are going to worship him. Whatever you want means König cumming is not the end goal. Besides, he has to work.

You’re not meant to be let off leash. He’s supposed to give you orders, not hand you the reins. You trace every line and vein of his cock with your tongue, press languid kisses along the length of him, absolutely lose yourself in the taste and feel of him. Sweat, salt, military issue soap and the bitterness of pre-cum coat your tongue and fill your nose. König keeps you well fed but you haven’t seen battle in weeks. Now the lazy waves of lust that roll through him with the roll of your tongue feel like the best meal you’ve had in years.

You squeeze your fingers around the base of his cock as you wrap your lips around the head, easing your way down with fluttering lashes. You swallow, tongue rubbing against the underside of his cock until you reach your fingers. Then your hand drops to your lap and you still with your nose against his pubic bone, enjoying the feeling of being full. The heavy cock on your tongue, the ache in your jaw, the pressure of him stretching out your throat… You purr around him, earning a very pleased hum from König above you.

His hand leaves your horn to pet your hair as you cockwarm him. Your thoughts are fuzzy, your skin warm, all of you lulled by an affectionate hand, the scent of him, and a cock down your throat. Your fingers slip between your legs, lazy and indulgent, rubbing the slick from your cunt along your slit to circle your clit. When König is done with his work he’ll bend you over his desk and fuck you for being so needy, you want to be ready.

#demon!darling au #könig mw2 #colonel könig #oc: fetch #König #König x oc #König x reader #könig smut #Nobody talk to me about König being minorly ooc #I think he's got a “work mode” that lets him function like a normal person #y'know like a customer service personality #but for the fucking military #how did this man pass his psych evals #I don't think he did I think they just couldn't not let him kill people #Fetch is so fucking obsessed with this man #And he treats her like a pet #unlike Ghost who treats Die like a helpful annoyance

[princessoflalaland]

I kid u fucking not, im genuinely tweaking thinking about the jjk men, specifically nanami and toji. the complete polarity between them drives me insane.

nanami would treat you like a complete and utter queen. craving something only available across town? he's already in the car the seconds the words leave your pretty little lips. period causing your day to be less than perfect? heat pads, comfort foods, blankets, candy- anything you need will be at your disposable. he's a good listener, affectionate, doting, understanding, mature, he is a MAN.

and do not let him know about your sexual needs. mans will (responsibly) drop whatever he's doing to come satisfy you. put that pussy on his nose, let his tongue trace the insides of your tight, gummy walls, he loves it more than you do. let him drill into that pussy until you're both on the brink of passing out with you mewling his name, how good he is, how deep he gets, how much you love his dick, he loves it wayyyy more than you do. ride him to your heart's content, sloppy licking and kissing into his mouth because you know why: he loves it more than you do. he'll make love to you every night if you'll let him, and I have an inclination you would. I mean, who'd wanna miss out on the sweet vulgarities he'd purr in your ear while he rearranges your guts?

"my pretty girl, takin' me so well." he'd huff into your ear. your legs splayed out near your torso as he has you in your all time favorite position: the wonderful mating press. "ah, God," nanami hissed, face pinching with overwhelming pleasure. "you're squeezing me, baby..gonna make me cum.." he'd lift his head where it was tucked away in the crook of your sweat-slicked neck, staring into your very soul with a dangerous mix of adoration and hunger. "want me to cum inside you, love? pump this pretty pussy f-full of my cum?"

You became his world and whatever his woman wants, she gets, no questions, no debate.

Toji, ohhhhhhhhhh TOji toji toji. He's my guilty pleausre, I swear to you. I've committed my heart, soul, and body, to nanami, I've claimed him as my jjk husband, BUT toji truly is my forbidden fruit. I have to fight actual demons not to imagine him pounding into me from behind, the side, upside down, up into me- in any way shape and form simply because feel like im being disloyal to Nanami :(

(mind you these are fictional men created by a Japanese sadist name Akutami Gege, I need to be committed to a mental institution at this rate)

AHEM, anyway, Toji is a blunt lover, and here's what I mean: (in my head) he may not be the best at communication or very good with his feelings, but he'll do his damndest to be upfront with you. he'll try his best to do what he thinks is best for y'alls relationship and with your help, he gets better at voicing how he feels. idgaf what you gotta say, he. will. spoil. you. yes, keeping money isn't something he's always been good at, BUT that all changed when he got with you. Mans made an entire savings account just for you. his money is your money basically; whatever you want is yours, no questions asked. he'd be your ride or die. no one gets to you without getting through that sexy, delicious, mountain of a man. he'll damned if he lets anyone even think about disrespecting his lady. he'll gladly rearrange their face, maybe even end their bloodline, if they're dumb enough to try. toji is...idk the hood nigga of jjk if u ask me, and if you think really hard, that's headcanon enough.

its one of the undisputed facts of the world that toji has that dawg in him. he will, happily, gladly, proudly, rearrange your insides, then give them a fresh paint job with his cum. he'd talk that nasty shit in your ear too while he's pounding you from behind.

"ohh, this pussy so good f'me, ma. so wet, so fuckin' tight....g'nna fuck 'er nice 'n good, maybe leave a baby in 'er too.” he'd growl, his tip bullying your g-spot at a punishing pace. "you'd like that, wouldn't ya?" he'd pull you back by your hair, keeping your back flush against his broad chest while his rough hand traveled down your navel so his thick fingers could torture your clit. "want a baby fucked into yer tight, nasty pussy. ohh im gonna fill you up baby. fill this perfect, fuckin' pussy..."

the forbidden fruit is toji fushiguro, you cannot change my mind.

this was mindless nanami and toji drabble because I need them, istg im tweaking bc maybe they aren’t so different…

#exploringlalalandꨄ︎ #this was very self indulgent #might need to find my nearest psych ward after posting this #is it bad I want both of them at the same time? #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk imagine #jjk nanami #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk x black reader #anime smut #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut

[prettybabybaby]

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

content: fiance's brother!regulus, fem!reader, side of fiance!sirius, cuckolding (i guess.)

¡ marauders masterlist !

regulus tries to conceal the shiver that races up his back, baring his teeth from his spot buried into the vibrating crevice of your neck. you're so tight around him that he pauses, pubic hair tangled with yours and chests heaving against each other in sync.

"get off of her, regulus," sirius grits, seated feet away from the tangled bodies of his betrothed and his little brother. he places a hand atop regulus' flexing shoulder, pushing angrily.

regulus whips his head around, glaring at his brother, breathing against your jaw as you wiggle under him, "get off?" he tsks, "no, i don't think she'd like that very much. would you, darling?" you whine pathetically when he rolls his hips, reaching up to claw at his back, fingers brushing against sirius'.

regulus grips your jaw, leaning in to rub his nose against your cheek, "hm?"

he slows his thrusts, pulling away from you enough to view himself disappearing into you. his fingers slither down your body, trailing the valley between your breasts to your pussy with a gentle touch. you shiver, arching your back as he slits your lips open, angling his hand to rub soft circles into your throbbing nub. "look at how wet she is," he says, thrusting sharply to hear the lewd squelch of your pussy. "such a precious girl, isn't she?"

he pulls out almost entirely, sinking back into your heat slowly, leaving you squirming and lifting your hips to meet his. a high rumbling noise meets his ear as you hug him closer, holding his face into your chest. "do you hear her purring for me, sirius?" regulus taunts, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your heaving chest. "i bet you've never felt this good, have you? he just can't fuck you properly."

sirius pushes against his brother harder, knocking him onto his side. you cry out, "that's enough, regulus. you're vile," sirius seethes, venom in his voice. "immoral."

regulus scoffs, flopping onto his back. his damp curls fall around his warm face, cheeks burning a bright pink as he chuckles, reaching down to pump at his aching, wet cock, "am i?"

sirius fumes at his tone but his next insult dies on his tongue when regulus pats his lap with his free hand, signaling you to climb on top of him. he looks at you wordlessly, disbelief all over his face as you refuse to meet his eyes, claiming your spot on regulus. you sink down slowly and your head lolls back as he fills you fully.

regulus groans, "good girl, darling. good fucking girl." he laughs breathily as you grind your hips, whimpering in desperation. he thrusts upwards, causing you to yelp as he ruts into you, griping the dip of your waist, digging his fingertips into the soft flesh.

the crevices and dips of the milky skin of his lean chest fill with salty sweat that sparkles under the light of the moon. his arms flex and the muscles of his neck tense as he tries to control his breathing, letting only deep grunts and groans mingle with the noises of you falling apart above him.

"tell him how i fuck you so well," he murmurs, trailing one of his hands up your arm until it reaches your throat, gently squeezing the side. you close your eyes, breaking the intense eye contact between you and regulus. you shake your head, cinching your brows together as he thrusts harder, faster.

sirius is still speechless, stare flickering from you to his brother. he feels his hand twitch again, aching to push you away from each other, feelings of betrayal, disgust, and disappointment circling in his mind as they had once before.

"open your eyes," regulus grits, pinching your cheeks together and angling your face towards sirius. you reluctantly obey, blinking away the tears that begin to fill your waterline as you stare into his eyes filled with conflicting emotion. "tell him."

#tw cucking #anyway 😗 #don’t ask me where this came from #I was just trying to do my psych hw and my brain decided to come up with this instead #regulus (belle’s version) #sirius (belle’s version) #regulus black x reader #regulus black smut #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #regulus x reader #sirius x reader #marauders era #marauders era blurb #marauders smut #harry potter marauders #hp marauders #hp smut #marauders #regulus black #sirius black

[just-information-he]

https://erica-109.txtxtx.top/xg/ibk3Efs

#psych #nanami kento x reader #kpop layouts #marauders era #martial arts #george floyd #samurai jack #top gear #trigun stampede #yaoi smut #niam #denim #perfect figure #herobrine #80s music

[night-yeah89]

#nail art #ada wong #tumblr mahallesi #psych #nanami kento x reader #kpop layouts #marauders era #martial arts #george floyd #samurai jack #trigun stampede #yaoi smut #niam

[patchouliauthor]

i've been so busy with school and work but the shawn spencer one shot is going to be out this weekend i promise <3

#shawn spencer #shawn spencer oneshot #psych #fanfiction #psych fanfiction #psych smut

[analysis-notice-during]

#digital archives #cute bios #she ra #spilled writing #building #nail art #psych #marauders era #martial arts #george floyd #samurai jack #top gear #trigun stampede #yaoi smut #niam

[s-brant]

Clandestine

After beginning their relationship in secret during the war, Anakin and his Padawan sneak off to have a much-needed moment to themselves. (or teacher’s pet part two)

5k (18+)

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, choking, breeding kink, degradation/praise, sub anakin, bit of exhibitionism, inappropriate relationships, and strong language.

-

As of late, it's been difficult for her and Anakin to steal a moment alone together.

The war is coming to a close sometime soon, they can sense it, and they think they may come close to catching General Grievous if things continue to go this way. Yet, while the death of Count Dooku and the win they gained at the Battle of Coruscant pleased them, what didn't was the lack of time they had together. Mercifully, they were stationed together throughout the war, but that didn't mean they were able to enjoy one another's company. Anakin acted as a general, meanwhile, she did not possess such a prestigious rank, and he quickly learned he could not show any favoritism toward her. Although they were well known for how well they worked together, it was impossible to avoid the judgmental stares thrown their way when he thoughtlessly defended a mistake she made in front of everyone.

Anakin has a way of being...irrational...when he senses any animosity directed at her.

He often moves into a defensive position on instinct, creeping closer and stepping partway in front of her. It's strange. In every aspect of their relationship besides those relating to sexuality, he maintains such a casual dominance over her, but, when they fall into each other's arms in the dead of night, that dominance is nowhere to be seen.

Like two weeks ago

They managed to sneak away unseen and found a secluded spot to meet at. It was a quick affair, to say the least, but for how brief it had been, it wasn't lacking any passion. Quick, quiet fucks are all they've been able to get away with amidst the responsibilities that burden them during this war. And, right now, she's craving more.

"Why are we going to the hangar?" Anakin asks, keeping his voice down as his Padawan guides him after her by the hand. His flesh hand, he takes note of with a rush of bliss caused by the contact of her bare skin against his. "Someone could see us."

A smirk crosses her face at this, and she turns her head to glance over her shoulder at him.

"Aren't Jedi supposed to feel no fear?" She teases him, "You surely weren't afraid of being caught last time."

The mere mention of the last time they snuck off to spend some time alone together brings a pink flush to his cheeks.

Ah, yes, that.

After days of teasing on her end and relentless flirting on his, they managed to steal a spare couple (more like ten) moments to quickly have sex in an unlocked supply closet. His gloved hand clamped down over her mouth to keep those delightful whines and gasps of pleasure from escaping the closet as he thrusted into her slick cunt.

He must refrain from submitting to her attempts to get a reaction from him. Instead, he falls back into the role he plays in the presence of others—the calm, wise teacher always ready to spout Jedi morals at his apprentice. Those broad shoulders square themselves, allowing her to feel the intimidation of his height advantage as they come to a natural stop beside his starfighter.

"Not necessarily."

And, choosing to play along as the bright-eyed student as if she hasn't known him in the most intimate ways and made him weep while he fucked her, she raises a brow in a silent command for him to elaborate.

Anakin cuts a glance back at the door through which they came, his sole display of hesitancy short of what emotions she can sense coming off of him, then speaks.

"It depends on who you ask. Master Yoda says fear leads us to the dark side. I would say that fear is natural. It's where you allow it to lead you that tends to cause the most problems. At least, that's been the case for me."

If he's interpreting things correctly, he thinks he almost feels her sudden curiosity.

Of course, Y/N takes this as her chance to taunt him, which he anticipated. Her head angles to the side to allow herself a better look at him. The inches between them wane with the little steps she takes to invade his space.

"So," she murmurs, batting her lashes, "Where will you allow it to lead you now?"

This causes him to freeze.

His mouth twitches with the urge to say the first filthy thought that comes to mind, but he manages to restrain himself. Due to his level of trust and comfortability with her, he doesn't bother concealing the perverse nature of his thoughts from her searching mind, but he makes sure not to give her the reaction she hoped for.

Instead of rushing forward to kiss her, he simply says, "Wherever you want me to go."

The tension between them has gone taut, and it feels as though the oxygen has been vacuumed from the surrounding air. There it is again, that needy, obedient side of the otherwise commanding and unrelenting general that, somehow, turns molten beneath her touch. It isn't always this way. There have been instances during which Anakin has taken back control with great enthusiasm, holding her wriggling limbs down with the Force while he fucks her until she's drooling and whining for release like the employees of that bar selling their bodies for a hefty sum of credits. It pleases him, to say the least. He is merely a man, after all. Not even Jedi are immune to such things. At least, he isn't.

In response, Y/N sends him the lewd image that prompted her to lead him out here in the first place, and it doesn't take him longer than a few seconds to walk around the side of his ship to climb up into it. She doesn't have to ask him why. If the image she pushed into his mind is to be fulfilled and proven true, he'll need to be sitting inside.

Once he's standing on one of the wings, he looks down and asks, "Are you coming?"

A feral grin lights up her face.

In the time it takes her to jump up onto the wing of the ship and follow in his footsteps, Anakin has already seated himself behind the controls and waits for her with an excitement that threatens to eat him alive. Obviously, she tortures him, moving as slowly as she can and taking her sweet time before closing the door behind her.

What she sees before her is nothing short of breathtaking.

He sits back against the seat with his thighs spread in expectance of her settling into place on his lap. It makes her stomach flutter to merely look at him like this. His mouth is tilted in a smirk, so arrogant when in his own element. In heated flashes, she can see it. She can see what he'll look like once she's through with him. Pink, kiss-swollen lips shining with a mixture of their spit, cheeks flushed a deep shade of scarlet, brows scrunched as he hits his peak—it overwhelms her mind to an extent that nearly prevents her from moving. But, she manages.

She takes her place astride his lap with nothing said between them, no communication outside of their unbreaking stare and shared thoughts. Her palms slide up from where they brace against his toned abdomen until they hold at his shoulders. After a second, she finally speaks.

"Go on."

What he saw in her projected thought was downright filthy. It immediately caused his cock to stiffen in his trousers, but he isn't going to go along with every little thing she shows him. Despite how he surrenders himself to her in moments like these, that doesn't change his protective nature with her.

"No."

Y/N frowns at him, and she makes sure to exaggerate how she always does when trying to get what she wants from her master. Although, she doesn't call him that much anymore. As of late, it's always "Anakin" or "Ani". It's only "Master" in the presence of others who may look too closely and pass judgment should they show signs of their frequent intimacy.

"Please?" she begs and shifts in place to "accidentally" brush up against his growing erection.

The thing is, he is a lucky man. What she imagined them doing is lifted straight from the pages of fantasies he had back when he was a hormonal young man with no outlet for it.

Anakin's features harden, but his eyes remain softened when he shakes his head at her. As much as he once would've died to know that a girl wants to fuck him while he pilots his ship he can't say yes.

"We can't," he says, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You're far too dear to me. I won't risk it."

Deep down past the inkling of disappointment, this warms her heart. At the beginning of whatever this is, she didn't think it to be anything more than a sexual relationship of convenience, but the things he says sometimes...Sometimes, he says stuff like that, and she has no other choice but to refrain from asking him to marry her right then and there. As of late, the lines have been to flirt for her to distinguish what they are to each other. It began with them as strangers, then master and padawan, friends, and now...this.

"Well, at least in this scenario we'd be going out together. Kind of romantic if you ask me."

His face shifts at this, and, though it's silly, it makes him feel so loved.

"Or foolish."

"Or tragic and beautiful."

He huffs a laugh.

"Well, even if you're right, I'd like to keep you for a little while longer if that's alright with you."

In answer to his sweet rejection, she offers a shy smile and murmurs, "Okay," before leaning forward to connect their mouths in a kiss.

It begins slowly, a tender brush of her lips on his, then, after they get a taste of one another, it transforms into something urgent and primal. The hands perched on his shoulders dip back down to feel their way along the length of his torso as he reaches up to cup her face in one hand. The tips of his fingers curl around the back of her neck and dig in to pull her as close as possible. He's found that kissing her is quite an addictive thing. The more he does it, the more disconnected he becomes with reality. She has a way of erasing everything else that exists in the galaxy whenever she's near.

From her relentless, shifting a moment ago, she can now feel him pressing up against her between her parted thighs, and she is quick to move her hips on him. The pressure of the contact made on his cock draws a sharp breath through his teeth, and he feels her smile into his mouth.

She whispers, "You're so sensitive."

The embarrassment radiates from him, but, even if she couldn't sense it, she can hear it in the words he says next.

"Don't make me pull rank on you."

This pulls a giggle from her, and he'd be annoyed if the light, melodic sound weren't the prettiest laugh he's ever heard. It is moments like these that convince him that this—choosing to cross this line with her—was the right decision, no matter what anyone may have to say about it should they be discovered.

Y/N pulls back just enough to see his face in the dim light and raises her brows.

"You can't pull rank on me."

He scoffs.

"Of course, I can," he says, "Not only am I your master, I'm a general."

She gives him a pointed look, then reaches for the skirt of her plain night dress to pull it up her thighs. The sight of her bare skin makes his mouth water, but he gets more than he anticipated when she pulls the fabric up around her hips to reveal herself to him. No underwear.

She makes quick work of his belt, allowing the lightsaber attached to slip away to the floor. Her hand is already wrapped around him and pumping at a lazy pace by the time she talks back to him.

"How can you keep up the big strong general act?" she asks and dips her head down to kiss him, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth. "How do you think they'd feel if they knew their general let his Padawan order him around?"

There's a slight shift in her weight that lifts her hips up enough for her to guide the leaking tip of him to her entrance, and she presses her forehead to his to watch his face as she sinks down onto his thick cock. The second he bottoms out inside of her, he has already lost whatever game they were playing together. The heat of his exhales cloud against her face, warning her skin from the cold air that flooded in before she closed the door.

It takes a moment for them both to adjust.

Feeling the walls of her cunt squeezing around him almost sends him over the edge immediately, and he has to concentrate on keeping himself together with his eyes shut and open mouth hovering over hers. It amazes him that it never gets old with her. Even after all the times they've done this together, he can't stop coming back for more. How could he ever refrain from this, from her?

"Ani," she says through a sigh, her voice nothing more than a soft push of air.

His brows furrow from the pleasure of having her merely sitting like this on him, and he nudges his nose with hers, leaning in to offer her a sensual kiss as he murmurs, "I know, I know." One hand comes up to wrap her hair up around his fist and uses it to tilt her head back a little to allow his lips to meet her neck. It's a tender kiss. The kind that says all of the words he can't seem to whenever they're together, but, of course, she must get him back for it.

She clenches down around him as she rocks her hips back and forth slowly, oh so slowly, for the sake of torturing him. The hand that isn't wrapped up in her hair grips her hip hard enough to bruise the soft skin like a ripe peach.

He shakes his head.

"No," Anakin says, and she halts, fearing that he no longer wants this. In response to that insecure thought, he chuckles. "No, it's my turn to have my way with you. I think it's time you learn your place, Padawan."

To his shock, Y/N laughs in his face.

The hand gripping her hip is ripped away and pinned to the seat by the invisible hands of the Force. They both know that he could stop her from pinning him down if he pleased, but he doesn't dare to. Not when she's looking down at him like that, moving her hips back and forth on him at a steadier pace now, and he's powerless to do anything but enjoy the sight of her above him.

She says, breathless, "I think we both know that won't be happening."

For emphasis, she starts to ride him harder, faster, and pulls his face into her hands to keep him at a distance just far enough to allow her to see him, yet close enough to make him try to lean forward against her touch for a kiss. It's needless to say that she doesn't allow him to. Instead, she lets one of her hands slip down from his face to collar his throat the way he had done to her the first time they were intimate together in that rundown bar on Coruscant.

Fuck. He wasn't prepared for that. No, no, no, he thinks, breaking the hold she had on his hands and gripping her hips to slow them down, but—

Anakin's eyes clamp shut as he buries his face in her neck and spills into her with a groan, not wanting to meet her gaze in his embarrassment. All he can think in the seconds after the mind-numbing bliss of his orgasm is that he ruined it. She had crafted the perfect fantasy in her head, and he couldn't keep it together long enough to allow her to enjoy it for longer than a moment or so. His eyes are already flooding with tears that hang on his lashes, threatening to fall at a constant rate and wet her delicate skin beneath.

At first, she almost doesn't understand—the way his hand broke free and grasped her hips, his groan, and the pulsating sense of warmth that filled her in the seconds following—but after a second, it clicks with her what's happening, and she can't help how her lips curve into a little smirk.

Oh, she thinks to herself, this is too good to be true.

Despite his increased degree of sensitivity in the aftermath of his orgasm, she doesn't stop. It isn't uncommon for him to be able to keep going after he comes sometimes, so it doesn't take her by surprise that he remains hard inside of her. And this is what truly breaks him. This is what reduces him to a clingy, teary-eyed mess with his arms closing in around her waist as she moves on his cock, taking what she wants from him with the knowledge that he's always belonged to her tucked safely away in her heart.

The hand around his neck squeezes tighter as if for the sake of taunting him, and she brushes the tip of his nose with hers. So close to connecting their mouths yet too far.

"So needy," she says amidst the harsh bouncing of her hips. "You hardly lasted a minute, it's pathetic."

Hearing those words lights a fire in the distance pit of his abdomen, pleasure sparking like the light of a fire once more. A matter of seconds was all it took, and the degrading words spoken to him couldn't be more true. Despite the fact that he likes being talked to like this and treated like he's lower than her. That paired with the feeling of her tight walls clamped down around him pushes him right back to where he had been when they started, albeit much more sensitive in the wake of his orgasm.

His hands leave her hips grapple for purchase on her waist to pull her body closer to his, never satisfied with the degree of closeness. Not even when he's inside of her.

"M'sorry," he whispers with tears shining in his eyes and tries to jut his face forward for a kiss to no avail. "I'll be good this time, I swear..."

The fingers digging into the sides of his neck loosen slightly at this, and she can't help but soften at the sound of him pleading with her. Seeing the tears in his eyes, although not from anything but a strange mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, plays a part in it as well. This is what he likes—being broken down into pieces by her, used and degraded, then built back up again with hushed words of praise and soft touches. At last, her hand slides up from its home around his throat and holds his face by the chin, keeping his head tilted back against the headrest to allow her a better look at him.

Anakin is and has always been, devastatingly beautiful. Beautiful in a statuesque way that only art can be. Yet, somehow, like everything with him from his strength in the force to his immaculate conception, he defies the rules and offers the artists of the universe a face, a body, a mind to challenge that of their meticulous creations. To capture his likeness would be impossible. Even she has trouble reining him in during these moments. He is simply too much in every conceivable way—too much power, too much beauty, too much ambition—to ever be confined to the prison of a painted canvas or sculpture. The only entity he will allow to confine him is her. Not even the Force may take precedence over the deity sitting astride his lap.

The scar cutting through his brow down past the edge of his eye is slightly raised beneath the thumb she allows to drag down the length of it. Using the hand that isn't grasping his chin, she inspects it carefully and cups his cheek. Now, the motion of her bouncing on him shifts into more of a sensual grinding—something far more intimate and slow.

"Mmm," she hums a quiet moan and keeps his head pinned back against the headrest under the doting guidance of her hands as she fucks him. "You really are trying to please me, aren't you?" There's a heavy sigh that sinks her chest, and he feels her tighten up around him at the familiar feeling budding within her. The thumb that caressed his scar now brushes the swell of his bottom lip as she says, breathless and breaking character for a second, "Ani.."

He begs, not even fully sure what for, "Please."

To this, her lips curl upward in a soft smile, and she decides to give him what he wants. After all, he's gotten himself so worked up over it, she might as well take care of her beloved, sensitive master. The hand holding his face drop and wrap around his wrists to guide them from her waist back down to her hips. That way he will have a better hold and leverage on her.

Finally, she grants him the opportunity to kiss her, and he engages with an enthusiasm that puts their previous kisses to shame. But before he can allow his tongue to push past her parted lips, she pulls back a hairs width of space to whisper, "If you get me off in less than a minute, I'll let you come again." The air they breathe in and out runs hot from both their exhales and the words she speaks. After a pause, she reminds him, "You better hurry."

The hands on her hips squeeze hard as he shifts beneath her and plants his feet firmly on the floor of the aircraft to anchor himself in place before he starts to thrust up into her. Her body jolts hard against his from the strength of him fucking her, holding her there over top of him and looking into her eyes as he diligently works to bring her pleasure.

As their mouths fall apart from a heated kiss, he murmurs, "Touch yourself," to her, knowing she needs the added stimulation to be pushed over the precipice that his cock alone has brought her to.

She giggles, apparently not fucked out enough to drop her domineering attitude much to Anakin's dismay, and asks, "You can't make me come on your own?"

By the darkness that stirs in his irises, she can tell that she has awoken a sleeping monster with these words, and in spite of his lust for her controlling him in every way, he has never been able to back down from a challenge. Especially not one against her. He thinks he scolds her, muttering something about her being a brat, but that could easily be in his head. At this point, he isn't sure which urges have been acted in and which remain a blissful fantasy. With how easily the power shifts between them, a constant game of tug of war, it wouldn't surprise him if he said it aloud. His cybernetic arm wraps around her waist and pulls tight to imprison her against him so closely, she could not move or squirm away if she wanted to. Which, she doesn't. His flesh hand, however, disappears between their bodies to allow the rough pads of his middle and ring finger to make contact with her aching clit.

Y/N's body turns molten in his grasp in response. What little handle she had left on her composure now crumbles as he fucks her hard and deep enough for his tip to hit her cervix each time. The heady blend of pain and pleasure reduces her to hysterics, falling over until her body is fully braced against his with her forehead resting on his shoulder. It renders her useless. All she can do is moan and gasp and cling to him as he ruins her. If she were to pull away to look into his eyes, she'd find a man possessed by lust and obsession. All directed at her, of course.

Every brush of his fingers on her clit brings her closer and closer until the tight thread of tension within her finally snaps, pushing her over the edge with her mouth falling open in pleasure. Even as she shakes in his arms and digs her fingernails into his arms with enough force to break the skin beneath his clothing, Anakin doesn't let up. He keeps pushing her further throughout the aftermath of her climax and forces her to ride it out without any mercy shown for her obvious sensitivity.

It isn't until the intense pulsating waves of bliss recede that she can regain her senses and withdraw her face from where it had been buried in his shoulder.

She drapes her arms over his broad shoulders, keeping him equally as trapped in her embrace as she was in his, and allows her forehead to press against his as he continues to fuck her. The arm around her waist squeezes like a vice, and she can tell how close he is by the erratic nature of his thrusts. It almost makes her wince in sensitivity to feel him pounding into her harder than he had been seconds ago, reckless and blind to any harm he may be doing to his precious Padawan as a result of his lust, but she stifles the sound. A part of her likes this aspect of it. The idea of him using her like she's nothing more than a toy for him to play with once she's had her fun.

Her lips smear a wet kiss against the top of his head where his skin meets his hairline, murmuring, "Good boy," under her breath. A fraction of a second later, she says, "I want you to come inside me."

This sends him into a frenzy—his hand slips out from between their bodies to take hold of her hip and stabilize himself as he chases his release. Now, she can't help but wince at the ache he causes inside of her, but he knows better than to stop at the sound of it. The last time he did, she punished him for it, so now he never stops when he's fucking her. Not unless she tells him to.

Anakin pulls her hips down to him one last time before he stills inside of her, barely moving at a slow pace to grind into her. She's so fucking tight like this—with her legs on either side of his lap—and he can tell that she's purposefully squeezing down around him to intensify the sensation, drinking in the sight of him coming undone beneath her with an awestruck expression. The warm, pulsating presence of him inside of her is intoxicating. She can't help but grind down against him, keeping him as deep as possible. Every hot spurt of his release fills her to the brim until she can feel the sticky fluid dripping around where the base of his cock keeps it trapped inside of her hole.

The thought of the consequences this could have is scandalous enough to bring an added flush to his cheeks. Nothing would please him more than to see her marked so publicly by him, her belly swollen beneath her clothing from growing his child, but it would never work. At least not right now. Not unless they changed their circumstances to allow them to experience the joys of parenthood together. Seeing that they are both devoted to the order, however, it seems impossible.

"That's it," she whispers, allowing him to hug her close and place a series of wet kisses across her neck in the time it takes him to come down from his orgasm. Her fingers card through his overgrown hair and pull it taut from his scalp just for the sake of torturing him. "Did so well."

All she gets in response is a sound she can only categorize as a mix between a whine and a hum. Seeing that he's still inside of her, every time she does so much as shift her weight around, he is reeling from overstimulation. And because she knows him so well, better than she knows herself, she takes it as her chance to show him mercy and lifts her hips up to help him pull out before it becomes too much.

Once she helps him pull his underwear back up his hips along with his pants, Y/N falls forward into him with a sigh.

Their faces are so close, any slight movement could make their mouths meet in a kiss, but neither of them does so. They sit like this, his hands on her hips and hers on his shoulders, and catch their breath in comfortable silence. If anyone were to visit the hangar and look inside, it would be easy to assume what has happened. They both appear properly fucked out with their hair in disarray from having each other's hands in it, their clothing hanging from their bodies, and their cheeks tinted pink.

The only sound that can be heard over the silence is that of their heavy breathing as it gradually evens out again in the aftermath of their exertions.

A moment passes, then Anakin breaks the silence with the last thing she expected to hear from him, "We shouldn't even go back." His hand cups the back of her neck to allow him to pull her face away enough for their eyes to meet. At first, she assumed he was kidding. But, once she saw his face, she knew he wasn't. "Not tonight, I mean."

She keeps brushing through his sweat-damp hair with her fingers to tame it into a more presentable style. Those pretty lips of hers pull back from her teeth in a smile.

"And where would you have us go instead, Ani?"

There's a second of hesitation, just one, before his face lights up with a mischievous smirk.

He shrugs, feigning innocence, then says as though it's as casual of an activity as going for a late-night walk together to clear their heads, "I would have us fly somewhere far away, somewhere no one would recognize us..." His eyes soften at the words that will leave him next, and he traces the slope of her waist a few times with his fingertips in a soothing pattern."Somewhere we could get married without any of them knowing."

The smile drops from her face, and with it so does his heart.

No, no, that was to much, wasn't it? Even though she surely must know by now, he has never actually said he loves her out of fear of her not reciprocating. It didn't seem wrong in his head, but now that he's suggested it aloud and she is looking at him like that, he isn't sure. This is always what he does. He is too rash, emotion-driven, and consumed by his urges to ignore them. It was part of what made him such a difficult Padawan for Obi-Wan, and now it's proving to be a conflict in his relationship with her as well.

He's about to take it back, to apologize and tell her they should go back downstairs, when she speaks. But it isn't what he expected to hear. In fact, it warms a place deep inside of him that he thought was hardened from years of hardship and grief. And he knows now that she feels the same way as him, even if neither of them has said it.

"I think that's a wonderful idea."

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #wrote the first half in the psych ward 🫡 #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #revenge of the sith #star wars

[nice-again-raise]

#building #geometry #ada wong #psych #kpop layouts #george floyd #yaoi smut #denim #herobrine #80s music #bd/sm switch

[thepsychewrites]

Back to You | B. Barnes

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky was used to running away. He never knew the feeling of coming back would be so euphoric.

Word Count: 942

Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI ; a lil smutty, angsty, and too poetic. Bucky is stupid sometimes- but that’s life man.

Gif found on Pinterest, it is not mine. 

Author’s Note: This is pretty different from how I normally write, but I enjoyed how it came out. Let me know what you guys think. Love you.

Main Masterlist

—————

All Bucky had ever known was running away.

It was so easy for him to run. It meant he didn’t have to succumb to the guilt he often faced, tired of it being a reminder of his sins. Running meant he didn’t have to feel anything if he didn’t want to. He could go anywhere, be anyone. He could hide and never see the light of day again.

He didn’t want to run from you, nor did he want to hide from the love you poured into his glass. But he couldn’t bring himself to drink it down, leaving it to settle into every crevice and corner of his being. It wasn’t his to consume, yet he yearned for it all the same. Night after night when he laid you to rest, your body glistening with the hollow promises of a beautiful tomorrow and a lifetime of forever with the man by your side, he wanted to give in to the temptations more than anything. Run, his mind would scream, run before she gives you a reason to stay.

When the moon howled his name and coaxed him away, he greeted that guilt with a regretful sob. Who was he to run from you? From the only person to show him the love he searched his whole life to find? Who was he to break the binds that tied your souls to one another? The heart that beats for him wasn’t his own, but he didn’t mind ripping it to pieces. Shame came next, it’s voice more taunting and disappointed than guilt’s.

Maybe he could’ve learned to love you better if the feeling was familiar. Maybe, had Bucky known love early in life, had love taken the curtesy to embed itself into his genetic makeup, he wouldn’t of run from it. All Bucky knew best was running. That was familiar. It was coded in his DNA. But love? How could it be so easy? So serene?

It pulled him back to your welcoming arms. Your soothing coos were a comfort Bucky didn’t deserve. He ran, no guarantee of return. Yet, when he did, you let him back inside with no sly remarks. With no hatred in your eyes. You knew he’d be back, sooner rather than later. He couldn’t make it on his own, the both of you knew that well enough. He’d have to thank you for being so patient with him. Apologies fled his aching lips as he settled on his knees, adoring every nod and grin that came from you. He found his reason to stay, goddamn it.

His body moved against you with purpose, with a sense of urgency and lust. His arms cradled you like the fragile thing you were, so sullen and all too forgiving. God, he was so stupid. But maybe you were, too. Caving so quickly was never part of the plan, but damn your heart for being stubborn.

I’m sorry.

His lips kneaded over yours like they had a thousand times before, this time slow and sorrowful. They anchored you to a crumbling shore, a wave of desire washing over you. His tongue was a storm, forceful and overpowering in its wake to dominate you. You’d drown in his kiss if he’d let you, and tonight might be the night. The edge of his teeth got greedy, keeping your lips against his with no remorse.

Forgive me?

His hands caressed every inch of skin they could reach, his touch unnerved and blistering. His fingers shook as he felt you, each scratch and dig pulling a familiar song from your throat. A flock of goosebumps rose from your naked form, hesitancy long forgotten as Bucky fumbled with the buttons of his pants, desperate to match your unclothed state. The pad of his thumb traced against your pebbled nipple, readying it for his flooded mouth.

I’ve missed you.

His voice was hauntingly sweet, the words he spoke a testament to the love you shared. “Baby, look at me.” A phrase so often whispered in the cool hours of an early morning endeavor, a fevered chill creeping up your spine as he aligned his hips to yours, pushing in to fill a searing hot void opening inside of you. Ragged sighs filled the room, the wet slaps of Bucky rocking in and out of you barely heard over his deep groans. “Look at me when you cum.” It was a command, yet so raw and sincere, so broken and pleading. The connection was an olive branch, offering up a new beginning.

Never shoulda let you go.

His love was a dagger, but oh how you longed for that serrated blade. The pain was ever so comforting as it nestled deep within your skin, housed by the bones of your affection. His love was fierce, like the destructive winds of a devastating storm that brewed in the distance. But Bucky always kept you in the eye of it, calm and safe, even if the thunder raged on all around you.

You’re mine. I am yours.

The air you labored through wasn’t solely your own, but your lovers too. His harsh, hurried breaths whispering the words he couldn’t say. It carried his scent, homey and warm, all too inviting as it pulled you over the edge.

I love you.

You couldn’t smell it now, though, your whole body tensing and seizing as Bucky’s thick heat filled you up. His body fell over yours, shrouding you in his affection. And as he steadily dripped out of you, you didn’t have to hear the words from his mouth to know they were being said.

Never gonna let you forget it again.

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#thepsychewrites #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you #psyche’s solar system

[lil-obsessed]

Get on my level maniacs. I'm writing gay smut right next to my mother.

#fanfic #fanfiction #shassie #psych #smut #gay #writing #writing community #mother #maniac pixie dream girl #get on my level bitches #🤞 #🍍 #writing smut

[s-brant]

Needy

gang!harry blurb

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, daddy kink, cockwarming, implied murder/crime, and strong language.

The uncovered windows allow the illumination of the moonlight and stars into their bedroom. It’s a cool, bluish-white light that wakes Y/N from her sleep, making her face twist up in displeasure at the fact that the dream she was having ended so abruptly. Her head turns, cheek brushing against the soft material of the sheets and a sigh sinks her naked chest at the sight that greets her.

Harry.

He sleeps with his chest down to the mattress, those pretty pink lips are parted, and gentle puffs of air blow across her face from their close proximity. One tattooed arm is slung over the slope of her waist. It’s weight provides her security, and the thought of it nearly draws a chuckle from her. Even in sleep, he has to know she’s there. To have one arm around her and the other under his pillow to grab the gun stashed there to protect her from any threat that may approach.

But, it isn’t long before her attention is drawn back to the pulsating heat between her thighs. Right. The dream.

It has left her heart pounding and skin flushed, on the edge of climaxing from what he was doing to her. It felt so real. He had her bent over the desk in his office, one hand twisted up in her hair and the other gripping the supple flesh of her hip to use as leverage for every deep thrust. The rough pads of his fingertips were circling her clit when she was ripped from the blissful fantasy.

Her lip is tugged between her teeth as she debates what to do next.

Two options. One, she could ignore the ache inside of her and try her best to ease back into sleep until morning comes and he must leave for a potentially dangerous job. Two, she could wake him up, satisfy the urge, and they both get to wind themselves down before the stress of tomorrow comes.

Option two, please, she thinks to herself.

She knows better than to slip out from beneath his arm and startle him awake with her absence, so she does the opposite. Scooting closer to the solid warmth of his body, she begins placing gentle kisses on his shoulder, trailing up his neck. The contact of her mouth on his skin causes him to stir, but it doesn’t make him jump awake in a panic or reach for the pistol under his pillow. Only one person on this earth would dare to kiss him awake.

Harry blinks his eyes open through the persuasive veil of sleep to find his wife kissing his neck. One of her hands is sliding down the muscled plane or his torso in pursuit of his softened cock where it sits heavy against his thigh. On instinct, he starts to move his body to allow her better access to him. Half asleep and here he is already starting to stiffen from the brush of her hand on his length.

“I just woke up from a really nice dream about you,” she whispers into the crook of his neck. “Dream you left me hanging, though.”

It takes another ten or so seconds of him coming back to consciousness and reveling in the stimulation of her hand pumping him before he can conjure a semi-coherent response.

“Mmm. Did he?”

A soft nod is made where her face is buried into him. Her lips navigate their way up the familiar terrain of his jaw and chin until she, at last, connects her mouth with his. The smacking of their lips breaks the quiet hanging over their bedroom. Although he has men posted around the house at all hours of the day, Harry’s most rigid boundary is that no one—save for him, Y/N and his right hand—is ever allowed near their room. When so much of his life in entwined with running his gang, this is the one aspect he needs to remain sacred.

The bedroom is their place of worship. Not even the windows can allow a person to view inside, seeing that they are reflective and bulletproof to any bold enemies he’s made along the way. Locked behind a door that opens to a long hallway, no one can hear or reach them. Here, it’s safe. It’s only them.

She pulls away to speak the words into his mouth, although it comes out as more of a whine, “Need you, daddy.”

The steady rise and fall of his chest goes still at this.

He takes her face in his hands and pulls her further away to get a good look. One glance and he knows. He sees right through her. With her pupils blown wide and her focus honed in on him, it’s clear what’s going on.

Their noses brush as he leans in close to invade her space, the hands cupping her face holding tighter in a sign of ownership. Precisely what she wants of him.

“Baby…” he croons it in the same soothing yet commanding tone he favors on nights like these, and she melts for him on the spot. “Y’feeling needy?”

It never fails to dizzy her—how swiftly he’s able to sense when she needs him this way and shift into the mindset. It shouldn’t, though. It’s second nature to him at this point, and, make no mistake, he derives just as much pleasure from it as she does.

The hand wrapped around him never ceases its movements, even as she nods and murmurs, “Please. I was so close.”

They both know it’ll be over soon, so they waste little time.

Harry guides her back onto the bed with a gentle but firm nudge to convey the message. Usually, he’d have the energy to toss her around properly and get the full act going, but a quick look at the clock shows it’s three AM, and he’s still hanging onto that line between being asleep and conscious. This only betters the experience, though. The haziness of their mutual exhaustion forces every lustful action to be committed in primal instinct.

He settles between her spread thighs, sticky with her arousal, and lines himself up with her soaked cunt, sliding home with a tired moan.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath.

The tight walls of her clamped down around him is undoing in and of itself. Before he begins to rock his hips into her, he already finds himself clinging to his composure. This will be over quickly, then. As long as she comes, he doesn’t mind it.

It’s slow at first. A soft and languid motion. The gentle rising and receding of the tide, of him pulling away and her urging him back where he belongs with her legs wrapped around his hips and hands grabbing onto his well-rounded ass.

For the most part, they don’t speak. Both too lost in the strange blend of sleepiness and pleasure, they communicate in touches, kisses, and moans. The building of her edged climax is steady in its approach. It’d often take more than this to get her there, but with how close she’d been when she woke from her dream, the smooth drag of his cock sliding in and out of her is overwhelming.

His arms are braced on the mattress on either side of her head, caging her in and leaving her to do nothing but watch. Muscles in his chest and abdomen ripple with the sudden strain of him doubling his efforts after hours of sedentary rest. They are tangled up in the sheets and down comforter in a heap of sweating limbs twined together as they rut harder and faster. In spite of the increased intensity, he never loses her eyes or abandons the caring role he’s taken on.

He asks, the deep timbre of his voice running along her body in a tender caress, “Just let go.” Their noses bump with every jerking motion that sends their mouths falling open for air. “Daddy’s got you.”

A high-pitched whine escapes her at this, which sends him into a frenzy of harsh thrusts that result in her manicured fingernails breaking skin open on his back. Their foreheads press together, his chest sitting against her bouncing breasts with little space left between them, and it feels less like they are two separate beings as they near closer to their ends. The exhaustion adds a dream-like quality to it all. It pushes them closer to one another, holding on with everything they have as though the world would fall apart if they let go.

“I want you to come inside me,” she breathes the words out over the sound of their bodies slapping together. Her eyes don’t stray from his as she begs him, “Need you to breed me, daddy. Please, I wanna be full.”

Harry can’t stop himself now: as soon as he hears the words, he’s done for, slamming into her with abandon and adjusting the angle of their bodies to grind his pubic bone down on her clit. The rush of euphoria is too strong for her to ignore any longer, and she follows right after him, still clawing at his back as she writhes beneath him.

The sense of pulsing warmth spreading inside of her heightens every wave of her orgasm. Knowing that he’s pumping her full of his cum is what sent her over the edge, and she can’t help but chant under her breath, “Daddy, daddy, daddy—“ in praise.

He presses his hips as close into her as he can get as he paints her walls with his seed and kisses her with a fervor he’s never experienced elsewhere. She squeezes him in time with the spasms of her orgasm, milking his thick cock until every last drop has been emptied into her. They ride it out together.

Pinned beneath him, she thrusts up to meet the dying undulations of his hips that tuck his cum deeper into her. It isn’t until they are both twitching from hypersensitivity that he finally relents and slows to a stop. The delicate hands splayed over his shoulder blades can feel the rapid rise and fall of his breaths, as well as the slight trembling of his worn, sweating body. There’s a moment of stillness and quiet in which all they do is hold one another as they catch their breath.

He doesn’t dare to pull out of her just yet. This is how she likes it when she gets in this needy headspace; the inherent closeness and intimacy of being full of him, even when they aren’t actively having sex. Instead, he mumbles, “Hold onto me,” and maneuvers them so she is laid on top of him, her body draped over his without his cock ever slipping out of her.

The lure of sleep threatens to take her under the second he positions her on him, but she fights it for the sake of stealing another spare moment with him. And, of course, he picks up on it straight away.

Harry narrows his eyes at her, noting how her eyelids keep drooping only for her to catch herself and jolt back awake. “Why are y’trying to stay up?”

His arms tighten around her frame and keep her pressed in close to him. Everything he says and does guides her further into her current state of calmness. It makes it more difficult to keep her eyes open in order to continue laying here and staring at his face through the darkness.

When she takes too long to respond, a pinch to her ass draws a squeal from her. That same hand that dropped down to pinch her raises to pet her hair back from her face in a repetitive, soothing touch.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

His tone dropped to the same caring but authoritative tone he used moments ago. It leaves little room for refusal, and she bends to his will without hesitation.

Y/N nuzzles her face into his shoulder, savoring the comforting heat of his body, and says, “I wanna spend some time with you before tomorrow.”

Then, it clicks.

That’s what this is about. That’s why she woke up in the middle of the night, acting all clingy and asking for daddy. He should have known. It isn’t uncommon for her to get like this before he goes out on a potentially dangerous job with his men. It’s something about the helplessness of waiting up for him at night that turns her desperate for him to have control over her.

By the time he returns home, sometimes bloody and bruised depending on the type of job it was, she is waiting for him, curled up on their bed in one of his shirts. For the rest of the night, she follows him in every step he takes: into the shower to help him wash another man’s blood from his skin, sitting on the counter while he rifles through the fridge for food, and following him back up the steps to their bedroom.

He says, “Look at me.”

Her head tilts up from its cherished spot—burrowed in his shoulder, lips brushing his swallow tattoo—and he leans up to kiss her.

It’s a consuming kiss. The type that goes soul-deeper and connects them irrevocably. His tongue invaded her mouth, caressing her own and deepening the kiss until neither of them knows where he ends and she begins.

They pull apart.

“I’ll always come home to you.” Her eyes avert to the side, so he takes her chin in his hand and forces her to meet his stare. “Always.”

The next half moment they spend looking at each other seems to stretch on for eternity. And she knows without a doubt that she’d gladly waste away here with him until the end of everything. Her eyes are becoming heavy, and she thinks she’s about to slump back down onto his shoulder and pass out, but—

Harry breaks the silence, saying with a smug grin, “S’not that easy to get rid of me, baby.”

A soft giggle has her body jerking against his, her head falling forward into his chest. The sparse hairs growing there tickle her face, and he tightens his arms up around her again. His own silent way of telling her to relax, get some rest, and to stop working herself up over what has yet to happen.

“You’re stuck with me forever,” he whispers.

Sleep is already beginning to take her now, but she grapples onto consciousness long enough to say back q quiet, “Gladly,” before succumbing to the comfort provided by his embrace. Tomorrow, he’ll come home as he always does, and she will be waiting for him, ready to be his shadow around the house until she falls asleep in his arms again.

As for him, he takes another few minutes to go under. And, though he chastised her for doing the same, he fights it until he cannot physically keep his eyes open. He takes in the sight of her, memorizing it top to bottom until the image of her is burned into his mind. In case he doesn’t come back, he wants his last thought to be of her. Of this. He’ll just close his eyes and come home to her.

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles #i wrote this in the psych ward #enjoy #i just finished copying it from my journal #fanfiction