"ngh- i can't do it anymooooree..!" you whine, tears trailing down your heated face, accompanied by sweat dribbling down your forehead.
your wrists are tied to the headboard of your bed: the originally cozy, plush quilt, gradually reduced into a stifling pressure that constantly rubbed against your warm skin.
torn between pleasure and pain, your sweet, pitiful whimpers echoed continuously throughout the humid room. satoru pants, the veins of his neck slightly bulging—clearly from his desperate attempts to hold back.
"one more time baby," he presses a moist, lingering kiss on your forehead, arms draped across your waist, with two fingers stuffed into your slick cunt. his other hand held a small, vibrating device against your throbbing clit, tracing focused circles around it.
you sob, "p-please.. please jus' let me cum.." you gripped the sheets with your trembling hands, trying to ground yourself amidst the blinding sparks that fried your senses.
he chuckles, delighted by your pleas. he moves the vibrator close to the folds of your entrance, merely teasing instead of providing you that sweet release you've been chasing. "c'mon baby.. you can hold it, right? aren't you a good girl?"
a cry tears itself out from your raspy throat, "i can't—mmh..! c-can't, can't do it." your ears are ringing, eyes rolled back. the vibrations are ruthless against your sensitive pussy, his fingers stimulating that plush spot within your velvet walls.
"naughty." his eyes darkened, cruelly withdrawing the toy and stopping his own movements altogether. whimpering, your hips mindlessly shook, thrusting against nothing. you shiver, helplessly gazing into his deep blue eyes.
retaining eye contact, his fingers; wet and sticky, caressed your twitching thighs, moving up, up, uppp—placing his palm directly against your abdomen, exerting just enough pressure to make you squirm.
"poor, poor girl. you really want to cum, don't you?" he coos, peppering chaste kisses against your tear-stained cheeks. "want me to stuff my dick into your drooling pussy, yeah?" you hurriedly nod, oblivious to his manipulation.
he grins, "i just don't think you deserve it." your swollen lips wobble, a pout ever present. you hate being denied, yet you feel yourself clenching around air, the absence of being filled frustrating you immensely.
"please, please, please—i'll do anything..! i promise, i'll be good.." your voice cracks, teeth biting down your own bleeding lips.
he smirks, "really? anything?"
you nod, letting out pathetic cries. pleading oh so sweetly. his cock throbs in his pants, adoring the control he has on your mind and your body. the mere sight of you sobbing, slobbering against yourself, skin sticking on skin; rubbing your thighs together like a bitch in heat (though he'd rather die than think of you that way)—it was addictive.
so, so obsessively addicting, that he really wanted to eat you whole. to consume you completely, and merge as one, complete being with your soul. it sends tingles up his spine, shaking with enthusiastic pleasure.
he swallows the saliva pooling in his mouth, licking his drying lips. "then i suppose you can definitely hold on for another hour, no?"
and when you whine, indignant, wanting to oppose—he stuffs a finger into your mouth, pinching your tongue. subconsciously, you obediently close your lips around the singular digit, gagging; effectively shutting yourself up in the process.
he turns the vibrator back on, watching as you try to run away from the pleasure that he forcefully places against your puffy clit. with pride, he licks your ears, whispering, "that's my girl."
synopsis: heeseung was always the freak, always the dominant one in sex. but when you saw his new playboy boxers peaking through his clothes? oh boy, you went absolutely feral.
warnings: smut, reader is kinda dominant (??), heeseung gets dominant later, blowjob, orgasm denial, riding, unprotected sex (don't do this!!), breast stimulation, heeseung eventually shoves his boxers into reader's mouth, just pure filth tbh. minors do not interact.
author's notes: I got this request all the way back to february, right after I posted about heeseung wearing the playboy underwear. and I put it aside for a while before march 10 and everything happened. I couldn't even look at the draft, I was running from it like it was the plague. but it's here now, and I hope you guys like it. kisses!
tonight was just a movie night. you and heeseung chilling in his apartment, watching a movie in his comfy couch, his arm around you as you both ate popcorn.
you were just laying your head on his shoulder, satisfied. you heard your phone buzz, on the left of the couch. sighing, you move to check the message.
"who is it, baby?" heeseung asks calmly, eyes still on the movie.
you turn your phone off. "just yunjin texting me about some guy she-"
you stop on your tracks when your eyes look down.
'playboy' with the logo beside it, peaking out of his sweatpants. new boxers, definitely. holy fucking shit.
heeseung frowned. "doll?" he looked at you, frowning even more when he saw your eyes stuck down somewhere. he looked down, about to ask if it was some kind of bug.
"hee... when did you buy these?" you ask lowly. slowly. your fingers ran on top of the edge gently.
he frowned even more before he realized you were talking about the boxers. "oh, I think last week. I read somewhere they were more comfortable, and they really are, so-"
you shut him up as you kissed him, going to his lap. the kiss was desperate, one of your hands still on his hip and the other on his neck now.
heeseung was caught off-guard, placing his hands on your hips as he kissed you back. "doll- doll, what-" you didn't let him speak, sucking on his tongue, getting a moan off him.
you pulled back to kiss down his neck, rubbing your hips against his. "d-doll... fuck- why are you so horny?" he asked, breathless as you marked his neck.
you left a hickey and pulled back to look at him. "these fucking boxers. gosh, you look so damn hot." you kissed him again, making him groan.
you could feel him getting hard as you kept rubbing. you pulled back from the kiss to pull his shirt off him, which he did without a second thought. you saw the edge of his boxers and almost moaned. fuck, he looked amazing.
you started to kiss on his collarbone, still moving your hips against his. he groaned again. "goddamn it- oh, baby... when did you get so freaky?" he smirked down at you.
you looked up. "the moment I saw you with these boxers." you kneeled down between his legs. oh, that was a sight he could never get tired of.
you slowly pulled his sweatpants down, only the boxers on him now. he was hard, a wet spot on the material where his tip is. you palmed him slowly, making a weak groan get out of him. "oh, doll... gosh-"
you just pulled his hard dick out of the boxers, not bothering to take them off yet. you fisted his dick slowly, letting the precum run through your hand, getting a low groan from heeseung. you licked his cock after, going from the base to the tip, teasing him. he only moaned, hands gripping the couch. "come on baby- just please, suck me already..." he muttered.
you smirked before shoving it all inside your mouth at once, the tip hitting your throat, making your vision blur. heeseung moaned, head leaning back against the couch, eyes closing.
his hand grabbed your hair as your head went up and down, mouth sucking his cock just the way he liked it. heeseung was in heaven, groaning at the feeling, your mouth driving him crazy.
you took it off your mouth to lick the tip and go back down, the sounds wet and nasty. he was loving it.
when heeseung tightened his grip on your hair, you knew he was close. you kept sucking him, spit and precum running down your chin. but just as he was about to get close, you pulled out, catching your breath.
he immediately opened his eyes to look down at you, his cock hard and red. "b-baby, I was about to-"
you smirked, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. "you will cum inside me when I ride you, understood?" you asked as you got up. heeseung immediately went silent, your tone making him almost explode just there.
you made it torturous, taking your shirt off first, slowly. the image of your boobs, just there, in front of him, it made heeseung want to just pull you down and suck on them. but he stayed put.
you slowly took your shorts after, your black panties covering the pussy he wanted oh so bad to see. it had enough sheerness for him to see, but not enough for him to see.
you chuckled before taking the panties off and sitting on his lap. "you look hungry." you teased.
he gripped your hips before running his hands up and down your thighs. "starving for you, mama. please... I need to cum." he looked up at you, those shiny eyes you couldn't say 'no' to.
you smirked. "since you asked nicely..." you positioned yourself before lowering down on him. heeseung moaned, grip tightening on your hips as he bottomed out inside you. you leaned your head back, moaning.
he felt you start to move your hips back and forth, making him lose his mind. he took your left boob on his mouth, sucking on it, bitting, kissing, licking. you held onto his hair, going up and down on his cock now.
"hee- fuck, oh my-" his big cock inside you felt so good.
he chuckled against your boob. "feel good, babydoll? yeah, bounce on that dick. it's yours baby." he said before sucking on your nipple. his hands went to your ass, squeezing as he helped your movements on his lap.
you knew he was close, the way he was thrusting up into you, his small groans. it took barely 5 minutes before he held your hips still, cumming deep into your pussy, moaning against your shoulder.
you barely registered the orgasm before he threw you on the couch, stomach up. he was breathing heavily, slightly sweaty, looking frustrated.
"you thought you could refuse me like that and not get out absolutely wrecked?" he asked lowly, taking his sweatpants off together with his playboy boxers, eyes burning with lust and danger.
he suddenly had an idea and took his boxers back up from the floor, eyes dark. "you like my boxers, huh? be a good girl and open that mouth for me." he commanded lowly. you opened your mouth without a single thought before he shoved his boxers into your mouth.
he climbed over you, settling between his legs before shoving his dick inside you again. you moaned, the sound muffled by his boxers. his pace already started fast, making you roll your eyes back to your head, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. his grip on your hips was tight as he pounded into you, moaning as well.
heeseung leaned down, taking your right boob into his mouth, sucking hard on the nipple before swirling his tongue around it. you moaned louder around the boxers on your mouth, clenching around him. he chuckled against your tit and took his hand down between your legs, pressing his thumb to your clit and rubbing fast. you rolled your eyes in pure pleasure, mind going a little blurry. it all felt so good with him.
it barely registered before you came around him, moaning loud around the boxers, thighs shaking. heeseung moaned, satisfied, thumb leaving your clit so he could take hold of your hip again.
a few thrusts later, he came inside you again, both of you moaning. he took the boxers off your mouth, making you breath heavily. "is my babydoll okay?"
you nodded, breathless. "yeah..." you let out, staring up at him.
he smirked. "you really like my new boxers, huh?" he leaned down to press a kiss to your shoulder. you nodded a bit.
hesseung chuckled lowly against your skin. "good. wanna make sure I fuck you so hard tonight they'll be all you remember." he said and flipped you over, making you lay on your stomach, shoving his dick inside you again.
taglist: @sxno0 @ikeumiu @arelyvn @pussiifairy @supahintohoon @foreveronez @shinaerie @nishiirkz @supahintohoon @hyyhwriter (idk who else to tag guys I'm sorry im kinda sleep deprived lol)
i’m obsessed with your rabbot dad/daddy! maybe one of full aftercare after a punishment went a little too overboard? bc reader is genuinely still feeling guilty and sad and quiet and they get concerned? I kinda love the makingup fluff after being too mean
rabbot x reader, cw: fauxcest, aftercare, but also they can’t stop trying to fuck you, robby is dad, jack is daddy
the moment you feel your vision going spotty, you attempt to tap out. you hit the couch. once. twice. but it doesn’t come out as a tap. it looks like you having a tantrum, which is what got you into this mess in the first place. your chest heaves. you can’t breathe. distantly, you hear robby click his tongue behind you. “we hitting the leather now?” your head swims and you slam against the arm of the couch, going completely limp.
when you come to, robby is the one who looks like he’s about to crack in two. your head is in jack’s lap, and dad keeps wiping your face and brow with a cool cloth. your lips part. robby’s face crumples with complete relief. “oh god, honey. you were trying to tap out, weren’t you?” you try to muster a nod. jack bends to kiss you hair. “our poor baby. dads got too mean, huh?”
robby’s large hand envelopes your own. he brings it to his lips. “i’m so sorry, baby. i wasn’t listening right. that was on me.” you move to nuzzle his cheek. “‘s okay, dad… love you.” he looks to jack, who nods. robby pulls you into a crushing hug. “my baby. i love you so much. so, so much. dad got out of hand.” his voice cracks. you shake your head. “was bad… was so, so bad.” your breath hitches. you’re close to tears again. robby rocks you, back and forth and back, “you did so good. we’re so proud of you. we love you so much.”
your eyes are glassy with devastation. you repeat “didn’t wanna be bad.” jack presses a kiss to your head. “you’ve never been bad a day in your life, angel.” he looks to robby, who clears his throat. “daddy’s right. you’ve never been bad. you know we love you.”
jack wipes at his eyes, though he’d deny it if you ever asked. he forces a smile. “you want cocoa, princess? think that’ll make it better?” you shake your head miserably. “don’t deserve cocoa.” robby fights the ugly, automatic urge to lecture you. to slap you. to say “you don’t decide that.” instead, he rubs your back, tilts your chin, and peppers kisses on your cheeks. “course you deserve it, baby. sweetest girl in the world deserves sweet drinks.” he adds, semi cruelly, “you trust us, don’t you?”
you nod your head fervently. if there is one thing you trust in this world, it’s your dads. jack kisses your head again. “daddy’s gonna make you cocoa, okay?” you make a pitiful sound. “okay…”
while jack works in the kitchen, robby kneels in front of you. he presses your thighs apart. “lemme say sorry, angel.” his mouth works against you. your head tilts back. “‘s my fault.” again, he fights the urge to smack your thigh. he shakes his head, beard scratching against your skin. “no, baby. it wasn’t. you did so well.”
jack comes back into the living room, cup of hot chocolate in hand. he smiles softly, then settles beside you as robby continues. “dad helping you out, bunny?” his lips are on yours, firm, steady. you feel the tension in your heart ebb. jack kneads at your breast. “we just want you to feel good, honey. wanna cum for your dads?”
your body begins to spasm. you clutch at robby’s hair. he doesn’t flinch. his tongue works until you fall apart, and pulls away without overstimulating you. jack pulls you into his lap. robby kisses your cheek, lips still glossy with your release. “forgive us.”
you get in trouble with dean, and the bedroom turns much less vanilla than usual.
warnings: MDNI, mean!dean, hard dom!dean, a lil bit of bdsm, dub con, oral fixations, hints of puppy play, dumbification, degradation, reader rides dean’s boot…, confused!reader is facing a moral dilemma
word count: 2.3k
a/n: whew!!! here it is! my first ever completed request!!! shoutout anon. this idea was so much fun,,, kinda sorta ran wild with it idk something came over me. lmk if u like it :) — berry
dean was a puck bunny magnet.
it didn’t matter where he was — class, the rink, malone’s, hell, even his own house. one was always just around the corner. batting their long pretty lashes at him. clawing at his biceps with their french manicures just to grab his attention.
to dean’s credit, he never gave in.
well– not since he met you.
you’d seen the performance a hundred times over. he’d flash them a practiced smile and a polite ‘thank you,’ before parting the crowd in search of something (or someone) actually worth his time.
your heart still turned a tinge sour every time. plagued by age old insecurities and infinite what ifs. usually, you swallowed all of those icky feelings down.
but tonight the girl begging for dean’s attention looks a little too much like you. the chatter of the party is a few notches too loud. and the beer you drank earlier is currently curdling in your stomach.
so tonight, you decide to try something new.
you scan the backyard, and lock eyes with your target.
reclined on a deck chair, he’s pretending to listen to beau’s teammate bitch about how fucking terrible their offensive line has been playing.
he’s got a half-drank bottle of miller high life dangling from his hand. the condensation of it is a steady drip, drip, drip onto his levis.
hunter davenport.
bingo.
you knew it was a fucking stupid idea. the kind of idea your brain only conjures up after taking a shot of room temperature tequila.
but just because you know what’s good for you doesn’t mean you turn your ass around.
no, dean deserves this, some deep dark part of you thinks. he deserves to know how shitty you feel every time you see a puck bunny feening for his attention.
you march up to hunter. plaster a bright a smile on your face, and convince yourself you’re making the right call. ignoring that rotten feeling in your gut screaming at you to find dean. it’s your body betraying you, you decide. you pull the trigger anyway.
“hunter! it’s so great to see you. you’re usually never at these things.”
you cringe at the truth hidden beneath your words. he’s usually not at these things because these things are at your boyfriend’s house off campus. your boyfriend who wishes hunter davenport was buried six-feet under. your boyfriend who stays up at night plotting how to do it himself.
you squeeze your eyelids shut, bracing for the retort you’re expecting to be slapped in the face with. some mean, cruel comment that hunter is somehow always armed with.
you pray for a portal to open up, and spit you out into an alien dimension where you have a shred of confidence.
you really thought you could flirt to hunter davenport. what a fucking stupid idea.
you’re about to raise the white flag, to be noble and walk away, when hunter’s face breaks out in a wide-toothed grin.
“hey, trouble.”
oh?
he flashes his canines at you, and you swear his teeth glimmer. his eyes trace the outline of your silhouette, figure accentuated by your mesh mini dress. his gaze lands on your breasts.
you look down. your nipples are pebbled from the cold air. standing at attention through the mesh fabric.
you’re quick to cross your arms and shield him from the view he thinks he’s so privy to. the view he sees as an invitation.
“i didn’t realize dean would let you off your leash with so many people around. must be my lucky day.”
oh. right.
this is why you didn’t talk to hunter davenport. he was a pretentious fucking asshole.
“i’m not–” you sputter at the comment.
“dean doesn’t.. i’m not on a leash," huffing, you set a hand on your hip.
you can see hunter wracking his brain for some quippy comeback. but the smug look is wiped clean off his face the second a shadow overtakes it.
you feel someone breathing down your neck, and a heavy arm wraps itself snugly against your middle.
dean.
“what the fuck is going on here, davenport? what are you playing at?” dean’s gaze is hard-set on hunter.
“dean, chill out. it's fi–” hunter is practically cowering under the weight of dean's stare.
“actually, no. y’know what? get the fuck out of my house. i’ll deal with you later.” dean’s voice is steady and cold. he doesn’t yell. he doesn't need to. he points to the back gate, and hunter has already left with his tail between his legs.
“upstairs. now.”
you don’t need to hear another word before you’re sprinting through the crowd of strangers.
your heart is beating in your throat. the lace trim of your dress is itchy on your skin as you take the stairs two steps at a time. you almost trip over the last one on your way up.
when you get to dean’s bedroom, you’re blurting out apologies before he even gets the chance to shut the door.
“i’m so so sorry, dean. i didn’t– didn’t think he’d be like that. i didn’t think it through, i swear,” you hiccup as you plead, throat tight and scratchy — straining just to get the words out.
“please, please don’t be mad.”
dean’s got that unimpressed look on his face. massive arms crossed cooly over his chest. his large frame kicked back with one boot against the door.
he looks so handsome tonight in a creamy white henley and faded jeans. the mean, unforgiving look in his eyes doesn’t suit him. it makes you burst into tears. this is all your fault.
“you’re un-fucking-believable, you know that? running off to fucking davenport in my house. didn’t realize you were such a little attention whore. can’t handle not having my eyes on you for two seconds, can you?”
a loud sob escapes you. you wanna scream and plead and promise him you want nothing to do with hunter. you were just being stupid.
but you keep your mouth shut and hang your head. try and convince yourself his words are empty. devoid of any real meaning. you’re jumping through hoops trying to tell yourself your boyfriend doesn’t think you’re a whore.
you sniffle and wipe at the flood of tears pouring from your bloodshot eyes. you look like a wreck, you’re sure of it.
maybe dean’s right. none of this would’ve happened if you’d just been good.
“i’m just so so sorry, dean. i just– i missed you. you were busy and i–”
he gives you an accusatory look that shuts you right up. he’s not interested in excuses right now, obviously.
you try again.
“i wanna make it better. please, let me make it better. i’ll do anything.”
his ears perk up at that. he cocks his head. “you’d do anything, huh?”
you nod furiously. it’s true. you’d do whatever he asked if it meant he’d stop looking at you like this. like you'd disappointed him.
“anything you want,” you promise.
dean’s toying with you. pretending to weigh his options. maybe he’ll granting you forgiveness. or maybe he’s planning how to make sure you regret ever going up to davenport in the first place.
he pushes his body off the door. walks a few steps over to the end on his bed and slowly lowers himself down. he sits and stares at you.
you’re standing in front of him, pulling at the mesh fabric of your dress. tracing the pretty cheetah print pattern of it. distracting yourself by thinking of a happier time — last weekend, when dean had bought you this dress at a boutique downtown. he'd chanted sweet nothings to you in the dressing room.
“crawl.”
“w–what?” your eyes pop open.
he’s got his hand beckoning you forward in a come hither motion. his legs are spread wide and you feel yourself start salivating at the bulge in his jeans.
“crawl to me.”
you weigh it in your brain.
you and dean definitely weren’t vanilla by any means. he was prone to settling a rough hand around your throat every now and then. slapping your ass in doggy. but you’d never delved into anything teetering on bdsm.
you decide dean knows best.
you gulp in anticipation, legs shaky as you lower yourself onto your knees.
it feels so primal, having his eyes on you as you bring yourself to all fours. a natural submission. feeling any sense of power slip through your fingers as the fibers of the rug eat at the skin on your palms. knees scraping against the fabric. your bones aching against the wooden floorboards.
you move toward him, and you see his hand slip under his waistband. lazily playing with his cock. and, god, you want it so bad.
the heady smell of him hits you when you arrive at his feet, eye-level with his crotch. it’s a woody musk mixed with the denim fabric of his jeans. you want to bury your face in it.
“sit.”
you immediately obey. panties completely soaked through. slippery arousal dripping down your thighs.
you’re wet.
the realization is a sucker punch. you pause. the anxious, flighty feeling bubbling up is like dark storm clouds over your head.
you like this.
maybe you shouldn’t.
you’re reeling. navigating the ocean of your brain a million thoughts per second. thinking that you’re dirty. that this is wrong. thinking why the fuck do you like being treated this?
and the worst one of all — oh god. dean’s really going to think you’re a whore now.
“hey, where’d you go baby?” dean’s voice is so soft and shaky it makes your guts tangle into something poisonous. he’s touching your face so lightly, dragging his thumb up and down your jaw.
“you need to stop? shit. baby, i shouldn’t have pushed you that hard.”
if it weren’t for the panic attack you were on the brink of, you would’ve laughed.
“no, no, dean i–” you take a deep breath in and muster up the courage. “i don’t– i don’t think the punishment is working.”
“god, baby, i’m so sorry. had a feeling that was too far. smack the shit out of me next time i–”
“dean, i–,” you sigh. “you don’t understand. i liked it.”
god, what were you even saying? how are you supposed to tell your boyfriend that you like being punished. that you like it when he’s mean to you.
“sorry, what?” dean stops in his tracks.
fuck it.
“i think i like it when you.. um– get mean? how terrible is that. god, you probably think i’m disg–”
“oh, baby.”
he lifts your chin up. looks deep into your eyes.
you hope he doesn’t see the deep rooted humiliation you feel.
no, it seems like he doesn’t. or maybe he’s putting it to the side for now. because he’d got this fond look in his eye. readjusting himself to lean in closer to you, pressing a kiss against your forehead.
you preen at that, nuzzling your head further into his hand.
“my girl likes being roughed up a little? likes being on her knees for me?” his thumb forces its way into your mouth and you latch on. swirling your tongue around the digit instinctively.
“jesus, baby, you’re so fucking hot. just wanna be told what to do, yeah? c’mon then, baby. show me how bad you want me.”
you hear his boot tap against the floorboards, and look down at the laces swinging side to side.
“c'mon. be a good girl for me, baby,” he coaxes. it’s a warm invitation. one you really can’t refuse. you lick your lips at the thought of it.
taking a shaky breath, you lift your hips, and he’s quick to fill in the gap with his boot. you carefully settle yourself down onto it. wince at the feel of the hard leather against your heat. it’s so much pressure so quickly. it has your pussy throbbing against the laces as you start grinding against it.
“oh fuck– dean,” you choke out, grasping at his jeans and twisting the denim fabric in your fist. trying to ground yourself.
he leans back with a smirk on his face.
“ride out your feelings for me, angel. show me what a good puppy you can be.”
you suppose you asked for this. and god it feels so fucking good, riding his boot with his hand tangled up in your hair. your clit snagging between the laces. pussy juices leaking onto the leather. it'll probably fucking stain.
dean’s always been a dirty talker. and you’re lucky it drowns out that little voice inside your head telling you how wrong people would think this is.
“you wanted to be my puppy this whole time, didn’t you? just needed a little guidance, babydoll. fuck– keep rolling your hips like that. make a fucking mess on me, pup. i’ve gotcha.”
you know you’ve never been this wet before. then dean starts bouncing his leg up and down, and a white hot heat burns in you as the leather vibrates against your core. the coil in your tummy is about to snap.
“dean– can’t. i’m gonna, fuck– dean!” you squeal, pain searing deep in your bones and throttling you headfirst into an orgasm.
a soft command, let go f’me, puppy, is all you need before you’re squirting all over the black leather of his boot. body convulsing and pretty tears welling up in your eyes.
“you’re such a good girl,” he coos, lightly tapping your damp cheek. “you liked that? making a mess on me?”
you nod dumbly, still grinding out the aftershocks.
“since you liked it so much, you can clean it up too.”
he raises a brow, daring you. seeing just how far you’ll push yourself for him.
if he only knew.
you inch yourself backwards. arch your back till your ass is wagging in the air, and you’re eye level with your slick pooling on his boot.
it doesn’t take long before you’re practically making out with it. tongue threading between the laces.
it’s so mindless and oh so fucking hot. you can’t help yourself when you reach down, pushing your panties to the side and rub circles on your raw clit.
it’s heaven, until you feel the sharp sting of dean smacking your ass and you pout, pulling your hand away from your core.
“did i say you could play with yourself, pup? maybe davenport was right. should keep you on a fucking leash next time.”
Ryland Grace actively talking about science while your fucking.
Hear me out walk with me.
Ryland is stressed a lot, I mean the world is ending, let’s say he’s stuck on a particularly hard problem, and you know what helps him think? Being relaxed, and you know what relaxes him? Sex.
Either your sucking him off or your riding him, and he’s working through the equation in his head, eyes squeezed shut, holding onto you in some way.
If your riding him, maybe hes at his desk and you noticed he was a little worked up, or just wanted some attention, and just like that the second your on him he can breathe.
“Oh frick- baby- if I could create lightweight orbital mirrors to- fuck- gather the sunlight then-“
All the sudden hey turned to his desk, you pout because his beautiful scrunched up face is now focused like an idea popped up in his head. He’s scribbling down something on the scratch paper near him, you slow down so he can think properly. Once he sets the pen down he looks up at you like you’ve hung the stars, and when you start moving again at the beautiful pace that makes him want to die in the best way possible- he’s gone.
“So tell me more about astrophage breeding hm?”
He’ll try to stumble out his solution, a mix of science terms as you speed up the pace, but he’s GONE.
⋆𓏲ּ𝄢 1995 || HIStory era || husband!michael.j x wife!reader ⋆𓏲ּ𝄢
this has been in my drafts for a while im not a big fan of it but ✌️
ִֶָ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚ synopsis: you and michael get asked that same question once again and michael cant help but reminisce to the steamy night before
۶ৎ˖ִ ˚ wc: 2.1k
ִֶָ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚ cw: invasive media questions, sub!michael, dry humping, nip play, unprotected p in v sex, cowgirl!pos, creampie, kissing, rubbing/touching, teasing/flirting, mdni !! not exactly proofread
“Are you two intimate?”
You internally roll your eyes. Live audience questions were always asking about you and Michael’s sex life. No matter how many times Michael dodged the question, it always came back to the same invasive curiosity, dressed up as harmless interest.
You look over to him, catching the same awkward smile he always gave every time the topic was brought up. He can't even look at you, staring somewhere by his shoes, he hesitates. “Why do you guys always ask this?-“ he tries to laugh it off. You can't help the faint grin quirking up at the corner of your lip knowing everything he's not saying.
Because he cant.
Its never that simple.
Michael couldn’t tell the journalist and the thousands of fans watching live how, just the night before, he’d been lounging on his bed, half-watching whatever was on TV. More focused on waiting for you to come out of the bathroom, listening for the water to shut off, for your wet footsteps on the floor because he simply couldn't resist you.
Michael turned his head towards the sound of the doorknob, brown eyes locking onto you instantly. Enjoying the way that the towel was draped loosely, a single fold hiding nothing. The dip of your cleavage, the damp curve of your shoulders decorated with small beads of water. his gaze flicking up to betray him, taking slow, heated sweeps down and back up.
“Miss me?” you ask, breaking the quiet.
Of course he did, it was only yesterday when he was holding a show, which was “Great.” in his words as usually you’d be sitting there front row cheering him on from the second he took stage. Except this time, you’d had other plans.
Plans that involved missing the show altogether.
Michael understood you had other things to do outside of being the love of his life. And he knew you couldn’t always just drop everything for him 24/7.
He knew that. Really, he did.
But that didn’t change the fact your absence yesterday still bothered him.
“Always, my angel," he murmured as you padded over now dressed in nothing but a loose camisole and panties, slipping between his spread legs where he sat on the edge of the bed. His large hands slid to your hips, slightly tugging you some inches closer.
“Are you still upset about the show?” Your fingers absently traced his jaw; the other sliding down the column of his neck as you tried to read his expression.
“What? No.” he was always such a terrible liar.
“Right,” you answered not buying it at all. “Michael, baby, you do understand that i was busy right?”
‘Busy’ the word alone making Michael’s fingers tighten briefly. “Yes, I know that.” his eyes glinting with something suspiciously close to mischief. “But you’re not busy now..”
‘Nice try’ you thought.
“Irresponsible,” you snipped at the obvious flirt. "You’ve got that interview at eight." the reminder’ a weak attempt at scolding the man, when you were really tempting him to choose wrongly. And he always did.
You saw him wince at the mention of his schedule, “Yeah..”
"Besides," you teased, letting your hands slip from his face, "you’ll be too wrecked by the morning." A smirk tugged at your lips. "And you can’t skip another one. It’s a bad habit, Mikey."
Michael caught your wrists before you could pull away, guiding them to his shoulders, only for his grip to slide right back to your hips. With a gentle tug, he settled you into his lap, his fingers digging in with just enough pressure to make you stay, “I know, I know-” his eyes swept across the floor, restless. “I just can't help it when-” he trailed off, but a kiss stole his words, smothering whatever excuse he was going to feed you.
In all honesty you understood his complaints, with all the am radio rounds and back to back interviews, you and michael barely stole five minutes alone without either of you passing out the moment you hit the bedroom. So if he was a little needy tonight? You wouldn’t blame him. Because, hell.
You were too.
Michael melted into the kiss, and you followed suit; lips parted on a breath as his warm tongue slide against yours, slow and searching. The taste of him was intoxicating, the way he always kissed like you were going to disappear the second he pulled away.
Your palm smoothed over his nightshirt to rest just above his quickening heartbeat, that throbbed in sync with his now growing print pressing against you eagerly. Michael noticed his bodys reaction and broke from the kiss, you could feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating off of him. Too shamed to open his eyes to your smug expression he knew all too well. It was almost cute how, even after all these years together, some things just never changed.
“Already, michael?” God he loved the way you’d say his name like that. so tormenting. It was cruel. You adjusted your hips discreetly angling against his hard on flush against your clit.
A breathy moan escaped Michaels lips, gripping your hips trying to ground himself. Your focus drifted to his bambi eyes, catching the glint of desire he always so desperately tried to hide. “Can i?” he asked already reaching for your cami. Pathetic.
Your hum of consent is all the permission he needs—his hands already dragging the fabric up, peeling it over your head with deliberate slowness. The air hits your skin, cool against the heat of his gaze as it drops to your tits, perky and flushed, your nipples already peaking for him.
“God, you’re gorgeous.” he whispered more so to himself, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. You cant help but enjoy the praise simpering slightly.
Michael drew near, trailing slow, feather-light kisses down the valley between your tits, his thumb reaching up to roll around your pert nipple.
This weakness made you crack, a low whine slipping past your lips as your fingers slid into his hair, guiding his mouth to your now swollen breasts and with him this close you could smell his cologne, the warm spice of his scent lingered in the air between you, and your hand instinctively curled a little tighter. youd only complimented it once, and from that day on it had become his signature.
Michaels tongue swirled around your aching peak, teasing before pulling it between his lips. The wet heat made you shudder as he released with a soft pop, leaving your peak glistening and sensitive. Not only that but you were practically dripping through your thin panties, you would only imagine the dark puddle you were leaving on his expensive, pants.
You rocked your hips along the hard ridge of his cock through his pants once more, his eyes squeezing shut again at the familiar feeling, completely and utterly weak for you just as he always was. “You’re getting my pants all wet.” he murmured, voice dripping with practiced charm—even if strained.
“‘S pretty.” Michael's large palms slid up your un seemingly trembling thighs, slow and reverent. One of his thumbs then brush against the delicate lace at the edge of your panties.
You suck in a shallow breath.
His eyes looked up to your face briefly, before his right thumb hooked under the fabric just below your core... and gently pulling it aside, the wet string between the cotton and flesh a lewd sight of just how desperate you were for him. Your eyes narrowed at his burning stare, “Pervert.”
Michael’s grin was all performance—that practiced, polite smile he wore for cameras and strangers.
“What? Never. I’m a gentleman.” the lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly as his slender fingers trailed through your slickness, warm, sticky from earlier arousal. His middle finger paused at your entrance, pressing just the lightest circle there, a teasing graze.
You bite your tongue not wanting to give him the pleasure of your reaction letting him continue his ministrations as you started to work on his waistband, because two could play that game. Your fingers grope for the zipper to his pants taking it down and pulling his boxers down with it, freeing his twitching shaft.
His leg tenses at the sudden exposure, a faint laugh escaping him as he pleads, “Baby, wait.”
“You want me to wait?” your hand was already wrapping around his manhood, giving him a stroke.
Michaels jaw clenched as he watched your thumb smear his pre, his hips jerked slightly into your palm. Pathetic. You’d only been holding his cock and he was already wrecked. A whimper escaped him, helpless against your slow paced ministrations.
“You ready, pretty?” you patronised sweetly, fully aware he was already struggling to keep it together.
“Don’t-” Michael’s protest died in his throat the second your thumb circled again, “Yes, god yes I’m ready.”
In one smooth motion you take his thick cock all the way inside your gummy walls to the hilt. Perfect. Fucking. Fit. You dont even feel like moving yet— just wanting to savour the feeling of having your cunt stuffed after weeks of nothing but constant press and overcrowded itineraries. Though after all they do say ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’.
“Feels good, angel” michael croaked revelling in the feeling of your snug walls.
You bit your lip as you began to move your hips, inch by inch, feeling him stretch you open until you could barely breathe. Your nails dug into his arms forming small crescent grooves, desperate for something to hold onto. Michael hissed at the sting, his hands gliding down to your ass, groping greedily at the fat, needing you just as much as you did him. “You like that, mikey?” you ground your hips down against his.
You can feel Michaels dick twitching inside your tight heat needy and oh so close. A thin sheen of sweat beaded along his forehead, his head lolling back now, nothing but broken little sounds and strained whines slipping past his lips.
“Just like that,doll” he managed, trying poorly to jerk his hips up in weak little thrusts to match the dangerous pace you’d set.
Your eyes dipped to the sticky mess of precum and arousal that glistened between you making wet obscene plaps as your skin connected each time. His face was so pretty like this; flushed, damp with sweat, mouth parted, all soft and spent beneath you. It pulled something greedy out of you.
You crashed your lips to his in a wet, sloppy kiss, swallowing the sweet little moan he let out for you. The sound went straight between your legs, and you clenched around him hard enough to make his whole body tremble beneath you.
Your chest pressed flush to his, your nipples dragging against the thin fabric of his night shirt every time your bodies met. The soft, damp cotton only made it worse the friction enough to make your breath hitch into his mouth as you kissed him, slow and sloppy, grinding down on him while he trembled beneath you.
“Angel, I-” Michael stuttered, voice ragged as his head tipped back again.
He wanted to cum so bad, you could feel it in the way his cock flexed inside you and how his brows stitched together tightly, but he was holding back for you. He always tried so hard not to ‘ruin it’ for you because it almost always got to his head whenever he came first makinh him feeling all guilty. It wasn’t easy, but he always tried his best to be good for his wife—even when you made it stupidly hard. Literally.
You answered with a soft hum and a roll of your hips. The beat between your legs got harder to ignore and Michael must have felt it near the base of him because one hand left the swell of your ass and slipped between you to find your needy little pearl. His thumb flicked over it fast and hard enough to make your breath catch as you started riding his cock with abandon, seeing stars you mewl, “Michael!”
your pussy spasmed around him, your stomach twisting in knots. You felt the warm liquid drooling from your insides and dripping down his base and balls making michael shiver, as you rode him with reckless abandon.
Orgasm hits as his palm slammed against your clit, the vice grip of your warm walls squeezing every last drop of hot cum out of him as he shoots deep inside your hungry cunt, his eyelashes damp with bliss. At least this time you came first right?
“Mr. Jackson?”
He blinks snapping upright, the bright studio lights rushing back into focus. “Are you okay?” the interviewer asks confusion written all over her face.
Michael clears his throat smiling sheepishly, heat blooming across his cheeks as he quickly straightened in his seat and smoothed a hand over his pants.
just imagining bf!jungkook bending you over in his expensive ass car and taking you how you like it hehe
“o-oh yes koo, please don’t stop”, you whimpered, trying but failing to keep yourself up on your hands and knees. “never gonna stop, princess”, jungkook groaned as he held onto your hips tightly, pushing them back to meet his with sharp thrusts. bending you over in the back of his expensive ass wasn’t what he had planned after your lovely date night, but neither of you wasn’t complaining.
your panties were pulled to the side, your skirt bunched up past your hips. skin slapping filled the air, the windows growing foggy with condensation.
“look at you taking it so good, baby. yeah back it up on me, just like that”, jungkook watched as your pussy toke his cock, helping you bounce your ass back on him. “such a greedy pussy, huh? hugging me like a vice”. you whimper once more, feeling his cock hit that spot over and over again.
“Yesss, love your cock koo. please give it to me pleaseee”, you beg over and over. jungkook nodded. “gonna give it to you, pretty girl. fuckkk, love this pussy. gonna fill it until your fucking dripping”. jungkook starts thrusts harder, making your ass giggle from the fast pace. your moans grow louder hearing how wet it sounds behind you, tightening your grip in the leather of the seats.
you could feel it, the warm tight feeling in your belly growing and about to snap from an orgasm. “m’gonna cum, please can I cum”, you begged, mixtures of moans and whimpers spilling from your mouth. your brain felt so fuzzy, you just wanted to cum.
“just hold on a little longer baby girl, m’so close, so close”, jungkook couldn’t help but whimper, the sound high-pitched. feeling your wet, warm gummy walls tightening around him, his balls heavy with cum and threatening to spill at any moment, hearing the squelching below him, the sound of your pussy echoing through the car. you didn’t know how much longer you could hold out, knowing you were just seconds from going over the edge.
“please kook please can I cum”, you beg once last time, holding on for dear life. “Yes baby cum, cum for me. fuck fuckkk m’cumming”, jungkook practically growled, hips stuttering as he gave just a few more sharp thrusts. white streams of cum released, so much that some of it dripped out of you, just like he promised.
you both sat there in a panting mess, trying to catch your breath as you laid together. you now laying on your back while jungkook laid on your chest.
“you okay?” he asked softly. “Wasn’t too rough?” You shook your head, threading your nails through his jet black hair. “no, you were perfect like always. i would like to have sex in your car again though”. jungkook chuckled, cocking a brow “really? in my car in the middle of a parking lot?” you shrugged with a smile. “I think it’s hot”. you both chuckle at your humorous words, gelding each other a bit longer before rightfully deciding to stop to get ice cream from a nearby convenience store.
