#praise

[aldenisalive]

daily affirmations:

you are a good dog

you are a very good dog

who’s a good dog, is it you? it’s you, isn’t it?!?

good puppy!!

[amnesia-sc]

Hi. Big fan of all your work

I have a story (smut??) idea where Michael (any era idc) and reader are the hottest new celebrity couple in Hollywood but one day Michael makes a sex tape of the two of them and it gets leaked…

Sorry if this isn’t the best description cuz i am not good with explaining things 😭😭

Thank you :)

t/w: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, oral (f! receiving), sex tape, hair pulling, you get ran through a mattress, choking, mature! era, controversially young gf? soft!dom michael, after the tape leaked no one ever thought he was asexual again and the “are you a virgin?” questions stopped

wc: 2.4k

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You sat on the bed with your hands in your lap, messing with the edge of the glove you wore. A new outfit Michael had bought for you and insisted that you wore.

He was leaving in two days and would be gone for a while, not to mention you were about to go on a press tour for your new movie, and he had been slowly working up your confidence to get you to say yes to making a tape.

A sex tape.

The thought made you blush as you watched him set up the camera, the lens positioned directly at the bed. Your eyes then cautiously trailing to the door— because of course he chose to do this when your family was visiting. Not only that, you two were supposed to go to dinner with them in an hour.

You already felt light headed. Even though it was just you and Michael, you still felt watched. One half of you found it terrifying, the other a little thrilled.

You loved trying new things, especially if he was excited about something.

Thus your current get up of black latex.

Your eyes then flicked down- it was crotchless.

And there you go feeling lightheaded again.

"Okay," Michael muttered, mostly to himself. "I think that's good." He then stepped behind it, checking to see the angle and the grin that stretched his face as he saw you through the monitor was down right fiendish.

“You look beautiful, baby.” He said softly, “I’m gonna start recording now, okay?”

You bit your lip, eyes glancing at the door one last time before you nodded. “Ready.”

That flashing red light started a moment later and you watched in bated breath as Michael lowered his boxers, his lips tilting in amusement at the immediate starstruck look to your gaze.

You barely had time to appreciate the size of his cock when his mouth pressed to yours in a heated kiss, his hands raking along your bare back and you melted against him. His teeth grazed along your bottom lip and opened for him, his wet tongue sliding into your mouth and tracing every inch.

The feel of your breasts pressed against him sent blood all the way down to his already painfully hard cock and he had to hold himself back from grinding into you. Instead he pushed forward, pressing your back down into the sheets. His lips trailed down to your jaw, a hand winding in your hair and he yanked your head to the side to expose your neck, earning a lovely sound from the back of your throat.

Open mouthed, he latched onto your soft skin, sucking and biting lightly, careful not to leave a mark even though he desperately wanted to. That was fine though, he’d mark you a different way.

“We… we need to be quick.” You managed, your fingers burying themselves in his hair.

“Not too quick, I plan to wreck you baby,” he muttered into your skin as his mouth drifted to your collar bones, his free hand coming up to caress and tease your nipples and that made you groan and buck against him, your bare pussy peeking out from the slit in the crotch and sliding against him.

Michael shivered, reeling in his self restraint. “None of that. Keep still.”

Nonetheless, he pushed against you harder and your hips rolled again, causing him to pull on your hair harder and you whimpered, but it only made you more wet. “You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“All for you, honey.”

He hummed and you yelped as he suddenly hooked a hand under each of your knees and pushed your legs up and out.

You could hear the voices of people passing by down the hall, but you didn’t have time to dwell as Michael lowered his hips and you ground against his length, an electric sort of friction against your clit and you moaned and a groan tore its way up his throat.

His hands dug into your sides and his mouth latched onto your right breast, causing you to arch into him. Your hands came up to hold his head to you, but before you could manage, your wrists were then pinned above you, Michael holding you against the mattress with his hips to yours and he ground into you again. “Don’t try to take control, baby. You don’t want to embarrass yourself.”

“Usually the man finds it hot when the woman takes control.”

“It’s an entertaining thought but I rather like the sight of you writhing beneath me, and I bet you just love it when I do this…” Michael slowly snaked a hand up your throat, his fingers dancing along the soft and vulnerable skin of your throat before his grip slowly tightened.

You could still breathe, but you could feel your pulse thudding violently and you shuddered as he pressed against you again.

“Keep your hands above your head, don’t move them.” He ordered, his voice a caress on your skin and you nodded, eyes heavy as he started to move down your body.

Then his fingers were pulling the latex out of the way, a blissful sigh leaving him as his breath hit your exposed pussy, making you shiver. “God, look at you… your fucking dripping, baby.”

And then his mouth was on you, tongue flattening from the bottom of your opened and dragging up to your clit before he wrapped his lips around it, rolling his tongue in a point and your back arched off the bed. You bit down harshly on your bottom lip, trying to keep your moaning at a minimum and your fingers grasped at the sheets, desperate to reach down into his hair but wanting to do as told.

You felt like your soul was leaving your body as his mouth dragged down, tongue fucking you as his ofher hand came up to play with your clit.

“Michael, please.” Your tone was torn between a moan and a whimper.

“Use your words.”

“I need your fingers—“

He abided immediately, lips dragging back up to your clit while two of his long fingers sunk into you. Dragging and curling up, his pace quick and deep and you threw your head back, feeling euphoric.

You came embarrassingly quickly, the sensation taking you by surprise but then he kept going— his other hand pressing low on your abdomen while he fucking you with his fingers and his tongue flattened on your clit.

“Michael, I feel… what—“

“Come for me, babygirl. I know you can do it again.”

He pressed down on your pelvis just a bit more and you came again, liquid squirting out of you and all over his face and fuck… he looked so pleased.

“Such a good girl for me,” he praised, bringing up his hand to suck his fingers clean as he then settled his hips against yours.

You bit your lip, your gaze becoming even more hungry as you took him in. Like everything else about him, his cock was an impressive length, thick, and the tip flushed as pre-come leaked out.

Brushing his hips forward, the head of his cock slid through your folds and rubbed against your clit, causing a buzzing moan to leave your lips and you rolled her hips forward, desperate for more but his hand danced back up to your throat and tightened. “None of that,” he warned, his dark eyes nearly looked feral as he glanced down at your dripping and awaiting cunt.

Slowly, he began to enter you, not taking his eyes off the way you stretched around him as he sank in.

“Fuck ,” you hissed, throwing your head back against the bed and you felt dizzy with your lower lack of air supply, his hand warm and firm around your neck.

A groan rumbled in the back of his throat, you were so tight but he didn’t stop pushing in until he was at the hilt. Then slowly pulling out, you clenched around him and he bit into your shoulder to bite back his own moan.

Michael’s thrusts were slow and steady, in no hurry and every few seconds his grip on your throat would loosen before tightening again. He rolled his hips forward, stretching you out and his pelvis created friction against your clit and you moaned loudly, momentarily not caring who heard you but his mouth swallowed the sound as he kissed you, wet and opened mouth.

Picking up his pace, his thrusts rammed into you, rocking the bed frame into the wall and the wood groaned in protest.

You continued to moan and whimper into his mouth, your arms tingling and begging to hold onto him. Michael must’ve read your body language and he pulled back, “rest them on my shoulders.”

They fell immediately, your nails digging into his shoulders and your eyes watered as you were temporarily deprived of air.

“You feel so good, baby.”

He shifted the angle of his hips, dragging himself in deep to the point where he hit your cervix. It was painful and wonderful and maddeningly delicious all at once.

Michael tilted his hips forwards and ground into you, his pelvis creating a slippery friction against your clit, then as he pulled out the the head of his cock dragged against that sweet spot and for fuck’s sake you practically screamed.

“Fuck! Do that again, please, oh my-”

Michael clamped a hand over your mouth, not being able to help it as he laughed and he didn’t stop his rough thrusts—

There was suddenly a knock on the door.

“Sweetheart, we’re gonna leave for dinner in about half an hour.” Your dad called through the door. “You okay? Or still getting ready?”

Michael’s cock continued to drag against your inner walls, slamming into you, his grip on your throat tight and tears slipped down your cheeks. He looked at you pointedly before removing his hand from your mouth, instead burying it in your hair as his mouth latched onto your neck.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m okay. I’m still getting ready… fuck-” Michael bit into your neck. “My hair won’t cooperate.” You bit down on your lip so hard to stop yourself from screaming again as his hand left your hair and dragged down to rub tight circles into your clit.

“Do you want your mom to come help?”

“Fuck no,” your voice was breathless and you cleared your throat the best you could, “I’m sorry, I think she’ll stress me out more. I’m okay… God, I’ll be down soon.”

“Okay, sweetheart.” Your dad walked away and Michael nearly laughed but it turned into a moan of his own as you clenched painfully hard around him. You were close.

“Did that excite you, baby? Nearly getting caught while I fuck you?”

You whimpered, your nails biting into his shoulders painfully and he took in the tears that were streaming down your cheeks, how your chest was heaving, how he stretched you out and how your clit was swollen.

“Come for me, come all over my cock, baby. I want the whole fucking house to hear you.”

The head of his cock rammed into that spot again and he rubbed another circle into your clit and you came with a hard cry, the sensation felt like you just shattered from being struck by lightning.

Michael didn’t stop, but he shuddered violently as you clamped around him.

His rough pace slipped into something erratic, fucking you harshly and the bed slammed hard into the wall, rocking violently on its legs and your heels dug into his lower back, pushing him in deeper.

“Fuck,” he panted, you were trembling and your skin was flushed, his pelvis grinding into your oversensitive clit and you clenched again.

“Just like that baby,” his grip on your throat tightened to the point where it hurt and you genuinely couldn’t breathe.

“Michael!” you cried out, your voice a rasp and laced in pain and arousal.

His whole body shuddered as he came with a deep moan tearing up his throat, his come filling you up, spurting and hot and you felt full.

Michael had never finished inside of you before.

You weren't on any contraceptives, but the thought was lost in the shadows of your subconscious as Michael rode out his high before pulling out, sighing as he watched how his cum mixed with your pooled between her pussy and dripped between your thighs. He ran a finger through it and you whimpered.

Michael lifted his hand to your lips, his eyes burned as he looked at you, “open.”

Doing as told, you parted your lips and his finger slid against your tongue, which you then took to swirling it around the digit and sucked on it.

He could only long to have those pretty lips of yours wrapped around him, but he knew they didn’t have the time before dinner.

You let go of his fingers with a pop and immediately after his mouth pressed to yours, though this time much more gentle and he slowly lowered your legs and rubbed circles into your thighs through the latex.

“You did so good for me,” he muttered and your hands buried in his hair and pulled him closer, your lips molding together.

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It was seven in the morning and you had only just forced yourself up to make a cup of coffee after the London premiere for your movie when the phone rang. Your tired eyes blinked at it, confused as to why it would be doing such an offensive thing at this hour.

You picked it up on the last ring, voice rough around the edges with sleep, “hello?”

“Baby? Did I wake you?”

Your sleepiness waned a little bit at the sound of Michael’s voice. “No, I got up a few minutes ago. You okay? Isn’t it like two—“

“Have you turned on the tv or read the paper at all?”

As your grogginess faded, you started to pick up on the edge to his voice.

Your brows furrowed. “No? Why?”

He sighed. “Baby, I’m really sorry. Really. I don’t know how it happened, someone must’ve gone through my things. I’m gonna have to have Bill do a screening on everybody and—“

“Michael, slow down.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “What happened?”

The other end of the line was dead silent and you gnawed at your lip, dread suddenly pooling low in your stomach.

“…No.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Your knuckles tightened on the phone and your teeth sank into your bottom lip before you threw your head back— “Fuck!”

You slumped against the wall, not having the faintest idea on what to do with yourself.

“I mean,” Michael started, tone cautious, “on the bright side, you looked great—“

“Michael, do not finish that sentence.”

You lowered the phone and stared up at the ceiling. Mind reeling because of course this had to happen. Your manager was going to kill you and you dreaded the phone call you’d undoubtedly get within the next hour.

Your gaze then flicked down to the kitchen counter, breath hitching because you had completely forgotten you’d taken a test last night. Two, actually. Just in case.

“Michael,” you started slowly, staring at the two pink plus signs.

“Yeah, baby?”

“How quickly can you get a flight to London?”

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michael jackson masterlist

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update: i hear y’all and will write a part two

[pearlessance]

Delicate Indulgence

summary: When the comfortable ease of your home is unexpectedly disrupted, you let your husband take his frustrations out on you.

pairing: Lyonel Baratheon x Wife!F!Reader

warnings: +18, explicit sexual content, facefucking, size kink, big dick lyonel, possessiveness, unprotected piv, porn without plot, treason but make it dirty talk, body worship, praise, finger sucking, lots of spit and drool in this one, reader has hair that can be pulled, lyonel is down bad for his wife, domesticity, talk of alcohol consumption, some gossip-y baelor hate (sorry king ily), not beta read, spoiler free!

wc: 3.2k

note: i just know lyonel loveeees to gossip about the targ's with his wife. could be read as part two of the helm stays on! if you so choose, but it's not necessary reading. i'm but a weary slave to the 'pretty little wife' trope what can i say. also this was my first fic written on ellipsus so i'm not sure how the formatting will look, so if anything is funky pleaseeee let me know! okay love u enjoyy!!

[masterlist] [AO3]

It’s late when your husband finally falls into bed beside you. The moon is bright outside the open windows and the air feels charged with an oncoming storm. It’s the perfect temperature. Cold enough to leave a chill behind on the stone floor, but warm enough that the linen of your bed keeps you cozy. 

He’s got that heaviness about him that he likes to deal with on his own. The kind where you can see the anguish behind his dark eyes, but when prompted he’ll just say, “It matters none. I should not sully the mind of my pretty little wife with things she cannot change.”

Always thinking of you. Always keeping you safe and soft and happy, even at the cost of himself. 

Storm’s End had gotten a Targaryen visitor this morning. And while you and Lyonel both appreciated Maekar and his loose energy, you both bristled at the presence of his brother, Baelor. 

He’s heir to the throne, after all. There exists a certain expectation of poise in whatever room he was in. But the pressure of duty and courtesy became quickly suffocating for people like you and your husband, who ruled the Stormlands as gentle and hedonistic leaders.

It felt like putting on a mask of collectedness and denied the relief of removing it until the prince mounted his horse and made it three miles from your keep. Like holding your breath for the handful of days he resided here. 

It was not that you disliked the prince. You only disliked his unending seriousness.

You roll onto your side and drape yourself across Lyonel. His big hands find the edge of your thigh immediately, like muscle memory as he pulls it higher up his waist. You thread your fingers through the messy curls at the top of his head and smile when he lets out a long sigh of relief. “How long is he staying?”

“Only for another day,” he answers. “He’s passing through. On his way to Summerhall. We’ll host a feast tomorrow and send him on his way the following morning.”

“Well, that’s not so terrible,” you say. “I expected worse, honestly.”

“As did I. It is not often a prince of the realm shows up to your home unannounced.” He turns slightly to look fully at you, his pretty mouth turned up at the corners. When he speaks again his voice is barely above an amused sort of whisper. Gossip meant only for the two of you. “Did you know that Baelor does not drink ale? Only strongwine. He says he does not like the taste. How…childish is that?”

Your laughter comes easily. “Only strongwine? Did you offer him from the barrel we’d gotten at that ale house in Dorne?”

With a nod he answers, “Yes, and he grimaced. Like I was serving him some pissfroth from the Eyrie or something.”

“What a delicate man,” you say, giggles falling from your mouth. 

“Yes, well—what more could you expect from a prince tucked away in a castle his whole life? Eating only the finest of cakes and drinking only the finest of wines?”

“You should offer him the fermented stuff we had brought here from Essos,” you joke. 

Lyonel snorts and shakes his head. “That drink is so strong I could hardly stomach it. I fear it may put the prince in an early grave.”

You smile easily and press a kiss to the hard line of his jaw, feeling the tension beneath your lips. You settle into quietness, tracing your fingers over the strong planes of his bare chest. “Will you go on a hunt tomorrow for the feast?”

“Yes,” he says. “I should like to take you with me, but the prince will be there as well and I fear I could not keep a handle on myself were he to look at you too long while in your riding leathers.”

With a snort, you roll your eyes. “I seriously doubt that, my love. A man so noble as him would cast his eyes on another man’s wife?”

“A delicate prince he may be, but he’s still only a man,” Lyonel explains. “And you are…Gods. You are so beautiful.”

He rests a hand on your cheek, thumb stroking soothingly across your temple. You feel yourself flush beneath his praise, always eager to receive it. But because you can’t ever seem to help yourself, you urge, “And what would you do, then? If he were to look in my direction too long?”

“Oh, sweetling,” he murmurs, palm sliding over the curve of your side, moving to the small of your back to pull you closer. 

The pressure of his thigh pressed hard between your legs is nothing short of heavenly, and your hips begin to rock out of sheer need for his touch. He leans in close, mouth ghosting across your ear.

His breath tickles as he asks, “Do you know the lengths I would go to keep you here with me?” Lyonel brings you even closer, encouraging your movement. You can feel his grin when a breathy sound leaves you. “I would kill him, my love.”

This time, your moan is fully formed. The friction of your small clothes makes you shiver, and in combination with the way he so easily threatens treason not for want of power but for love of you? Gods. It’s like nothing else. 

Lyonel slips his hand beneath the sheets, easily finding the edge of your dress to tug it upwards. “I would make an enemy of the crown,” he whispers, tilting your hips to press your bare cunt to his thigh now. “I would kill them all and take the throne for you. To sit a jeweled circlet on your pretty head and kneel at your feet.”

You arch your back, and he takes the open space you provide to lean in and lick a long, indulgent stripe up the column of your throat. He finds that spot you love with quick precision and bites gently, sharp canines scraping over your skin, stinging just enough to pull a gasp from the back of your mouth. 

“The kind of woman who deserves to be worshipped,” he continues. He nudges your legs apart with his knee and pushes you flat against your back, coming to rest between your thighs. Your husband is already naked—cock hanging hard and heavy between you. Blushed and leaking at the tip, just as desperate to be inside you as you are to be stretched by the thickness of him.

Lyonel is big and broad and heavy on top of you. He pulls you up with a calloused hand on the back of your neck and drags your nightdress up over your head, baring your body completely to him.

His hands are greedy and unapologetic as he feels you. Squeezing gently at the swells of your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. He moves further down, tracing your curves, massaging the supple flesh as if trying to commit the shape of you to memory. “You’re so very beautiful,” he mutters. “And so very mine. Say it.”

“M’yours,” you choke out, heart beating fast, blood rushing beneath his acute attention. “I’m all yours. Only yours. Please let me show you. Please.”

You pull back, just enough to tuck your legs beneath you and settle in front of him on your knees. Lyonel grins wickedly and smooths a hand affectionately over your jaw. “Sweet girl,” he muses, running his thumb across your parted lips. He pushes the digit inside, pressing down on your tongue. The cool metal of his golden, storm-forged ring clinks carefully against the back of your teeth. “Show me your tongue.”

Without hesitation, you do as he says. Sliding the wet muscle down his hand, tasting salt and sea and the essence of him underneath.

He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking it slow, only inches from your face. Your mouth begins to water and drool coats the tip of your tongue.

Lyonel chuckles low. “Look at you,” he mutters. “So perfect.”

Carefully, he guides your mouth to his cock, sliding it between your lips. It’s heavy on your tongue, but you swallow down as much as him as you can. Spread your spit to take just a little more of him into your mouth. 

You greedily lick the throbbing veins on the underside of his cock, spit bubbling at the corners of your lips. He gathers your hair at the nape of your neck and pulls your head all the way back. 

Strings of saliva snap against your chin as you look up at him, mouth still open and tongue still out. Even in the dark of night you can see that sordid desire on his face; pupils blown wide, a furrow in his brow, lips parted on a soft moan. “Fuck me,” he sighs. “You have the sweetest mouth. S’like it was made to swallow my cock. Like you were made all for me.”

Lyonel takes your wrists in his hand and sets them against his thighs. A signal, you know—that the things he’s about to do to you are a…different type of worship. One you love to take part in. A saccharine roughness you’d only ever entrust to him.

You hold yourself up with your fingers flat against the strong muscles of his legs, feeling his coarse hair beneath your palms.

He leans down just a little, enough to touch his forehead to yours and ask a single word of permission. Quietly, delicately. “Yeah?”

You smile and nod in answer, and only seconds later he’s tugging your hair hard and pulling your mouth back to him. This time, when he pushes his cock past your lips, there’s nothing gentle or delicate about it. 

He forces himself down your throat, head tilting back, groaning all the while. He uses the harsh grip he has on your hair to move your lips up and down his length, fucking your mouth the way he wants, the way he needs. All that pent up frustration, all that effort to be poise一none of it exists here now. It dissipates, freeing him of the burden.

Within you, he searches for peace. And only in the way you stare up at him with unending devotion does he find it.

You let him take and take and take. The thick layer of hair at the base of his cock tickles your nose with each pass of your tongue and saliva drips obscenely down your chin. You try to breathe between each thrust of his hips, taking in oxygen slowly through your nose, keeping your heart rate steady. 

His cock hits the back of your throat and you gag. But he doesn’t stop, and you know he won’t until you tell him to. Lyonel thrusts his hips in tandem with the hand on the back of your head, burying himself in your throat, releasing all of that built up pressure that has accumulated throughout the day. 

You can see it as you look up at him through your lashes. His shoulders relax and the tension in his jaw loosens. Freeing himself from the burden of duty that has weighed him down for hours. This is what he needs. 

So you take it for as long as you can. Let him fuck your mouth until you’re gasping for breath, until your vision blurs with unshed tears. 

All it takes is one tap of your hand on his thigh and Lyonel is pulling your head back. He’s breathing hard and smiling wide as he kneels in front of you, releasing his hold on your hair. He cradles your face between his big hands, thumbs stroking affectionately over your cheeks. “You’re okay, sweetling,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours.

There’s so much love in his eyes that it makes you feel warm and fuzzy all over. He pours his adoration into you, murmuring all the while.

“You did so good,” he says. “Always so good for me. My perfect girl.” He presses his lips to yours, the spit on your chin making his beard look all shiny and wet. He licks into your mouth, his tongue tasting of smoke and ale, his low groans rumbling against your swollen lips.

Lyonel wraps a hand around your middle and pulls you to him. He leans back on his knees and sets you in his lap, his cock sliding through the slickness that's gathered between your legs. You whimper into his mouth and his name falls from your tongue.

“I know, I know,” he coos. “Shh. I’ve got you.” He nuzzles the side of your cheek with the tip of his nose. “Look at me, pretty girl. Open your eyes. Mhm, there you go. Breathe with me, yeah? Inhale slow.”

With your eyes locked on his, you follow his instruction. Your lungs expand in tandem, distracting you while he uses his free hand to reach his cock beneath you. You exhale the moment he does, the warmth of his breath fanning over your collar bones.

“Again,” he instructs, his bare chest lifting and pressing against your breasts as he breathes in deep. 

This time, on the exhale, you feel the head of his cock nudge at your entrance. And desperate as you are to feel him inside you, the stretch is still painful. A stinging pressure you know you’ll always feel the following day.

Your brows furrow and his hand on your waist grips hard enough to bruise. “Oh, Gods一”

“S’okay, you’re okay,” he promises. “Breathe with me, c’mon.”

This time, he doesn’t stop on the exhale. He keeps lifting his hips while pulling you down, until the hair at the base of his cock touches your clit. 

You wrap your hands around his neck and tug at his graying curls. “Lyonel, please—!”

“I know, I know. You can take it.” He kisses you hard, fingers finding your achy, swollen clit. When he begins to circle it with practiced ease, you turn quickly into a soft mess of a woman in his arms, just like you always do. 

You’re moaning against his tongue and he’s swallowing up the sounds, hips canting underneath you.

“Yeah, there you go. Good girl.”

It feels so full. He’s so big, holding you so tight, enveloping every one of your senses until all you can hear and smell and feel and think is him. Your big brute of a husband, delicate for you only. 

“Shit,” he hisses, thrusting into you. You’re so wet the sounds of your arousal echo in between the stone walls of your bedchamber. The head of his cock is buried so deep, you’d swear your body must have shifted to make room for him inside. “You feel that? Hm?”

You nod feverishly, brows furrowed, trying to breathe through the fog in your mind. “Feels so—hmm—so good.”

He finds steady rhythm, fucking up into you. When you bury your face in the crook of his neck, Lyonel hums and lays his cheek against the top of your head. 

“Oh—my sweet girl. I’ve got you,” he promises, and you know it’s true. No matter who disturbs the peace of your home, no matter who casts their eyes upon you, you’ll always be his.

Between the steady and relentless rhythm of his cock and the way his fingers stroke your clit so deliciously, your pleasure builds fast. Your muscles pull tight and your ears start to ring. “Don’t stop,” you whimper, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. “Please, please, don’t stop—”

"Give it to me," he urges, keeping a steady pace. He nudges the side of your cheek with the tip of his nose, his beard ticking. "Look at me, pretty, look at me."

You do, tilting your head up just enough to catch his eyes only seconds before embers of light skitter up your spine. "Oh, Gods. I'm—!"

"Yeah, thaaat's it," he groans low in his chest, and you're held so close to him that you feel the sound vibrate through your sternum. "There you go."

The bliss of your release fills you like sunlight, eyes unfocused but still trained on his. He fucks you through it, the corners of his mouth turned up into that all-knowing smirk you adore so much.

Your skin buzzes and your head feels cloudy and every nerve ending feels like it's been lit aflame. Not by fire, but by electricity. Like the blue static of a storm.

His name leaves your mouth in a desperate whimper, and you feel his cock throb against your velvety walls in response, somehow taking up even more space inside of you. "Fuck. Fuck, I love you. I fucking—mm—love you so fucking much—"

Lyonel follows you off the edge in only seconds, his cock pulsing, spilling his seed right up against your cervix. He sings those saccharine praises all the while, love and adoration falling from his tongue.

You let him thrust his hips as long as he needs, long after you're a twitching, quivering mess in his arms, squeezing the back of his neck and peppering wet kisses across his cheeks.

The come down is slow, and you're both breathing hard, greedily drinking up the brisk night air that drifts in from the windows.

Only when you loosen your hold on him does he move. Pulling out of you gently, eyes glinting in the dark as he observes the mess he's made between your thighs.

You lean back into the lavish silks of your bed, watching him marvel at you, his big hands drifting admirably along the insides of your thighs. He touches you like you're something holy. Something cut from marble and forged by the gods themselves.

Eventually, Lyonel lets out a long breath and leans forward to press a heavy kiss right below your navel. And you know, without him even needing to speak the desire aloud, that he's hoping his seed takes root. Hoping in a few months time your belly will be all rounded with his child.

He takes his place at your side and spreads his arms open. Like muscle memory, you shift to move closer beside him, resting your head on his chest.

You can hear the steady beating of his strong heart just below your ear, and the sound soothes you half to sleep. But then he chuckles once. And then twice, and then he's laughing so hard you can't help but mirror his joy.

With your head tilted to look up at him, you ask through your own giggles, "What's so funny?"

"Westeros will one day be led by a man so delicate he cannot stomach a little ale," he says. "Gods. We're fucking doomed."

You shake your head. "Yes, well. A delicate king we may one day have, but the Stormlands will remain as strong as the fermented drinks of Essos."

His laughter slowly quiets, but the delight on his face remains. Lyonel kisses the top of your head and says, "You are what makes me strong."

There's no doubt in the words as he says them. No room for debate or discussion. His eyes are filled with tenderness, and it makes you feel like the most special woman to ever live.

But you only giggle and roll your eyes and say, "Get some rest now, my love. We have much to prepare on the morrow."

thank you for reading, i love you!!!

[foldingfittedsheets]

The mattress company I worked for the first time no longer exists. It was long ago eaten and assimilated by a bigger company. But when I started it was an incredibly intense five weeks of training. I was told I was extremely lucky to be selected, and I was. From a pool of a hundred applicants only fifteen of us made the cut to entering the training program.

The course covered how to talk to customers, how to ask open ended questions, how to close a sale, and product knowledge. I learned a lot, and truthfully my greatest takeaway was a lot of social scripts that I could use in other areas of my life.

We also had a midterm exam and a final. Both included a roleplay element with a trainer and a written portion. They told us when we started that the course was challenging but it was still a shock to come in after the midterm and realize half the class had failed.

I was named valedictorian of training- a dubious honor as it meant I’d done the best in the class, but popular lore had it that valedictorians struggled the most on the sales floor. Lo, I struggled.

Not because I wasn’t good. I was. But because my manager set out to systematically destroy my self esteem. Every sale, every interaction I had was scrutinized and criticized.

If I sold a bed with protectors, moveable base, and pillows he’d ask why I hadn’t managed to sell pillow protectors too. His first trainee had thrived on being challenged and he’d never bothered to learn a different way to coach.

It was wretched. My performance started strong but nosedived after a few weeks with him. My trainer, a man I loathed for stonewalling me in my interview, came in to inform me I was on new hire probation. If I couldn’t get my sales numbers up I’d be let go.

His actual phrasing was, “When you have a bandaid do you like to rip it off or pull it slowly?”

Since it was eminently obvious why he was visiting and because I thought it was condescending I sweetly informed him that I liked to soak my bandaids in hot water so they come off on their own.

He was briefly startled at this derailing but then got on with the bad news. I signed some forms stating that I understood my job was in peril.

I went home furious. I thought long and hard about why I wasn’t succeeding and how frustrated I was with my manager. I came in the next day and my anger had crystallized into a cold sharp edge.

My manager opened his mouth to address the probation and I snapped, “Just leave me alone. Go in the back if I have a sale. If you must address a serious issue then you will give me praise on two things I did right and present it as a compliment sandwich. Otherwise just say good job and shut up. Your constant nitpicking just makes me anxious and I do worse. Back off.” Belated and begrudging I added, “Please.”

He raised his eyebrows in dim surprise but I’d gauged him well. He backed off. Dutifully he’d meander into the back when I had a sale and praised me when I closed it. I resented knowing it was only because I’d demanded complimented but they still boosted me up. My numbers skyrocketed, I landed my first split king sale, and I exited probation with flying colors.

The trainer came back in to congratulate my manager for turning things around. To my gratification he gave me credit for setting him straight and said I’d taught him a different way to lead. My manager would often genuinely praise that moment when I’d stood up to him, impressed with my stubborn refusal to fail and my insight into what would help.

My biggest takeaway from the whole thing was just that people need positive reinforcement to succeed. Praise people for doing a good job. If you’re ever in a position where you need to criticize someone put it in a compliment sandwich instead of just saying the negative.

[sukunacest]

cw:: stepcest, cheating, virgin reader, lots of praise, so much praise

for the most part, you did feel bad. scratch that — all you could feel right now was the immense pleasure as you rode stepdad! nanami on your hotel bed.

he turned your two stuffed animals around so they wouldn't have to witness this. this... what exactly was this?

you fucking your moms husband. you were the flower girl at their wedding all those years ago. kento nanami: the kind, polite man who was nearly twice your age.

he was the man who showed up to all your dance recitals and school plays while your mom was out gambling.

the man who rushed out of work when you fell off down two flights of stairs at college just to make sure the hospital staff was treating you with the upmost care. your mom? who knew where she was. by the time she reached out —back from a bender, most of your injuries were already healed...

nanami was always the one who would get out of bed to soothe you when he heard you screaming from a nightmare — your mom could never be bothered to deal with it (if she even was home) :(

the incredible man who worked constant overtime just to get you through college and literally anything else you wanted. you were his little girl after all.

the best stepdad who showed up to the father-daughter dance when your bio dad ignored your phone calls :(

kento nanami was the man who taught you how to ride a bike. and he's also the same man teaching you how to ride his cock.

"shhh... i know it's alot. breathe baby. ive got you" and he always did. nearly your whole life, it was always nanami who was there for you. you trusted him. he knew you better than you knew yourself.

and that's why you can't bring yourself to feel regret. you love him and you know he loves you too. had you not walked in one night on your bio dad getting sucked off by your mom, maybe you wouldn't have pursued nanami.

he was the one, of course, to console you. your bio dad wouldn't ever show up for you when you needed him, yet he would show up for that? your mom not even caring she was actively cheating on nanami. her reasoning being "he worked and spoiled you too much." :(

nanami was devastated, but just like he was always there for you, you were there for him. that night you both found out, neither of you could stay in the same house as her — quickly checking into a hotel nearby kento's work.

there was only one bed, but it would be fine. you weren't sharing a bed with a stranger or anything; it was just your stepdad.

the only person to truly provide for you, protect you, love you... unconditionally.

you would quickly strip down to just your panties and a tshirt while nanami was in the shower, and slide under the covers with your teddy bears, feigning sleep.

it was only when nanami finally sat down on the bed, brushing the hair out of your face and whispered "you're everything im not supposed to want, yet here i am in bed with you," did you slowly blink your eyes open.

before nanami backed away, scared he was overstepping, did you pull him back towards you.

"you're everything i want too..." you whisper back. "we don't need her — she wasn't there for us anyways."

nanami softly patted your head, nodding. he agreed, but was still hurt by your mom's betrayal :(

you cuddled with him until you both fell asleep. that was, until you tossed and turned, over and over, waking yourself up at two am. you softly gasped when you realized there was something poking against you >.<

"dad?" you whisper, hoping he's still asleep.

he's not.

"s-sorry, princess" he says a little too quickly. "can't sleep?" you shake your head and scoot even closer to him. whatever was poking you before was definitely still there.

nanami tries to scoot away from you, but there wasn't too much space on this hotel bed.

"p-please, i don't think you should be near me right now..."

"why not?" you pout, crawling even closer. "do you not want me either?"

"of course i do, baby... it's just..." he trails off, closing his eyes with a heavy breath.

"you're hard..."

"yes," he admits. "im sorry. i work alot and your mother never wanted to."

your left hand slowly inches toward his chest then idly slides downward. "what if I helped you with that?"

"no, baby," he protests. gently holding your hand so you don't go down any further. "we can't."

"why not!"

"i'm your—"

"stepdad."

"i raised you."

"that just makes me love you more."

"princess, please don't make this harder than it already is."

you snatch your hand away from his, sliding down his chest to grip his length. "I think you're already pretty hard dad," you giggle, but continue to firmly grasp it like patrick star once instructed on your satruday morning cartoons.

"please, kento. dad. i want this and i want you. it's always been you. please"

your plead snuffed out the last of nanami's resistance. if his wife was going to cheat, it was only fair he did the same. right?

nanami tugs down his pj pants and boxers with your help. his hands find their way to your clothed pussy, slowly rubbing you through the fabric.

once your eyes feast upon nanami's full, throbbing cock, your eye's are immediately going wide.

"she didn't want this!? this fucking monster!"

"language, sweetie."

"sorry."

you tentaively grasp it again, going up and down it with your hand awkwardly.

he wraps his hand around yours, guiding you up and down his length. even in this fucked up situation, nanami was still there to teach you, guide you.

"sorry, im not experienced. i've never..."

"never? fuck. imgoingtohell"

"language, daddy!" you echo back to him with a smile. it actually calms his nerves.

"just follow my lead and if you want to stop-"

"i want this," you reassure him.

he continues to guide your much smaller hands up and down his cock. maybe if you only do this it won't be that much of a sin. if only....

without him instructing you, your tongue finds it's way around his tip. delicately licking as if it were a tootsie pop.

nanami doesn't stop you. in fact, he places his hand on the back of your head, helping you take more of him into your mouth.

"you sure you've never done this before?" he's throwing his head back. your taking more and more of him into your mouth. you shake your head but don't let up. "you're doing amazing, baby."

nanami is a man who loves to give praise and in his case he means every word. "look at you," he's brushing back some of your hair. "doing so well for me."

fuck, if it wasn't for the extreme lack of sex with your mother nanami probably could've lasted so much longer. you bob your head up and down a few more times until it's too much — nanami's lifting your head off of him and grabbing a nearby handkerchief. of course he has one on standby.

you almost wish he would've let you taste his seed. you imagine he would taste sweet, like pineapples.

"maybe we should stop" he suggests. there goes that polite conscience again.

"i want it to be you," you declare, straddling his hips before he can change his mind. "please. i want my first time with you."

he relents, flipping you over in a swift move. "if you insist." he kisses down your neck, large hands sliding down your sides. "i should make sure you're ready for me"

"but i—"

"shh," his long fingers shush you. "god, you're soaked."

he takes his fingers, rubbing you through your panties, circling that sensitive nub. he gives it a loving kiss, then another and another. until he's sliding your panties out of the way—marveling at his stepdaughters beautiful pussy for the first time.

nanami, with most things, likes to take his time — savor the moment. but it wasn't easy with your cute little whimpers and your hands on the back of his head, pressing him down til he was nearly suffocating in your fluids (not that he minded).

his warm tongue lapped at your clit, prasing, worshipping it. over and over, he feasted on you until you were a shaking mess. he carefully added a finger, stretching you out slowly. the last thing he wanted was to hurt you when he finally sunk himself inside you.

god. nanami kento could eat pussy for days.

"i want you inside," you begged. "please"

anything for his little girl. but not before he made you come on his face. he licked and sucked and devoured you even faster now — adding a second finger inside you. it wasn't until you completely lost control, squirting on his face did he stop. he lapped up your sweet taste, savoring the flavor of you.

he (begrudingly) left his spot between your legs to flip you back on top of him. "up here, princess."

and you're straddling him again, wet slick dripping down his cock.

"princess, are you absoultely sure?" nanami's eyes are locked onto yours, searching for any sign of doubt. any reason he shouldn't fill his stepdaughter to the brim.

the kiss to his lips gives him his answer. it wasn't like any previous kiss you had before — those were cute, innocent. this kiss was filled with passion, as if you were his lover, everything a dad-daughter kiss shouldn't be; yet you both loved it more than anything else.

he taps your entrance with the head of his angry cock. once, twice, god, it was agony — the teasing. he envelops the tip, covering it with your slick, hoping it'll make it go in easier.

"this might hurt, but, you're in control here" nanami's voice is low, soft, and controlled, as he always is. "take your time." you nod as his large, warm hands hold on to your sides, and he helps lower you down onto him.

it was heaven and hell.

hell because it fucking hurt. your tears were uncontrollable, freely flowing down your cheeks. it truly broke nanami's heart seeing you in pain like that. "breathe, breathe," he whispered. he didn't move an inch, and fuck, did he want to. it took everything within him not to flip you prone and fuck you like an animal in heat.

yet

it was heaven because your way-too-tight walls were clenching down hard on nanami's cock, it was almost painful for him. but the feeling was euphoric. and it wasn't just the fact he was in someone, but the fact that it was you.

the first person to text him happy birthday every year. the sole reason he celebrates father's day, despite not having any bio children. the person who counts on him to always be there for you. the only woman he would ever want to be inside from now on. his stepdaughter — the love of his life.

your sinking, down, down, slowly onto his cock with his guidance. fuck kento for being so damn big. he was borderline monster size. and it didn't help that he had two prominent veins running down his shaft, two veins you could feel inside.

he's wiping your tears with one of his hands. "shhh... i know it's alot. breathe baby. ive got you".

your holding on to him, adjusting to his enmorous size, and then finally, you move. awkwardly at first — it is your first time, but he won't rush you. in fact, he's giving you nothing but praise.

"that's it princess... just like that." fuck, you're so tight. "you're doing so well for me."

you found a good rhythm, bouncing up and down, like it was the best feeling in the world; and to nanami, it was.

"yes, baby girl," his grunts are vocal now. "that's so good. keep going just like that." and you do. up and down, up and down, up and down. you want to cry again, but this time not from pain. all you feel now is undeniable happiness and pleasure.

you don't know how much longer you can keep this up :(

you want to stay like this forever, but your hips, your legs, they're quickly getting sore.

and of course, nanami notices.

"you're okay sweetheart, you're safe. let me take care of everything."

and just like that, kento nanami has you on your back and he's between your legs again — missionary— his favorite position. call him old fashioned, but he never gets tired of hovering above his lover, looking into their eyes while he's pleasuring them. and the fact that it's you, his perfect stepdaughter? he almost came again the moment he slid back into you. he's surprised he hasn't already.

"you're so tight darling. f-fuck" nanami's panting. "too tight for me, aren't you?"

all you can do is nod in between your moans. you feel so fucking full. nanami, —the man who is usually so calm and controlled— was going feral. he was bucking into your hips, as if his life depended on it. he didn't want to hurt you, but he couldn't hold back anymore. not in this perfect, perfect pussy of yours.

he leans down to kiss you again and it's filled with every emotion neither of you can say aloud. your moans are music to his ears. when your bucking your hips up to him to meet his thrusts, his heart melts <3

he won't last much longer. he's fucking you soo deep into the bed. between your moans and nanami's praise and grunts, all he can focus on is how deep he is inside of you. and how fucking badly he wants to cum. your moans are so loud that you're covering your mouth from embarrassment.

"let me hear you, sweetheart." he reassures you. "let it out". and you do. every sound, every moan, all the pleasure you feel is because of nanami and you're gladly letting him know.

"dad, dad, dad" is all you can make out, as your fingers tangle in his hair and his heavy balls slap against your clit.

kento nanami is a responsible man. ideally he should pull out, cum literally anywhere else. but you've brainwashed him. your pussy was fucking magical and he can't bring himself to pul out.

"i know it's wrong, i know...." he wants to curse his conscience. "but you feel too good."

"it's okay, dad..." you're eyes are open, looking into his. "you can do it inside."

if nanami wasn't going to hell, this was surely the icing on the cake. he plunged into you, deeper and deeper, rutting into your perfect cunt — his cock kissing your cervix. you wrap your legs around him, kissing him.

with a grunt of your name, he spills into you. filling your pussy with everything that is him.

"such a needy little thing, huh? locking your legs around me" he's kissing you over and over and over, from your forehead to your chin, all over your face. <3 "you just wanted to be filled, didn't you?"

"uh-huh," is all you can muster out, and you smile — a happy, genuine smile.

he pulls out of you, rolling over for a moment to catch his breath. he's twice your age, but he's still got decent stamina (something he'll happily prove in the future).

as if it were routine, nanami is sliding out of bed, only to return with a hot towel. he's cleaning you up like it's second nature, and for him, it is. only difference is he isn't cleaning mud off of you from you playing outside in the rain when you were little, he's gently cleaning his cum and rubbing you with his utmost care.

it's truly confusing how your mom could ever cheat on him. he provided, he loved, he cared, he cooked, he cleaned, he fucked, he was perfect. if not for her, then absolutely for you.

your fingers slide down between your folds, scooping up some his seed that he missed. you bring it to your lips, humming when the taste reaches your lips. you were right. he does taste like pineapples :)

"you make the filthiest things feel so pure," he chuckles, sliding into bed with you. "what am I going to do with you?"

oops this got really long >.< i lost the plot again. omg im a freak :((

m.list

[chlo3-xo]

I need an older guy who will show me love, praise and respect instead of just lusting over me please

[jasontoddscrowbars]

Clark entering the room covered in rainbow stickers saying things like good job! Nice! Well done! The biggest, dumbest grin across his face.

Jason elbowed Bruce.

Jason: what’s his problem.

Bruce glanced up then back down to the paper: he has a praise kink. I found this was easier than constantly having to blow up his ego.

Jason slowly nodded. As he did, two doors opened to the library. Conner entered one, Jon the other. Both were decked in similar stickers. The Kent’s all saw each other and their eyes narrowed before they pointed at each other like the Spider-Man meme. Bruce, Tim and Damian whistled as they avoided each other from their opposite seats across the room.

Jason: it seems this was a group consensus.

Jon sniffled: Am I no good?

Damians eyes widened. He tucked his lips in with guilt, which Jason thought he should. They all should. He then reached over and pulled out a sticker pad. Jason face palmed as Damian peeled off a sticker and booped it right on Jon’s nose. It said great job which had no relevance to the situation.

Jon sniffled again. Then he blushed and fell across him hugging him.

Conner: hey! Where’s mine!

Clark: yeah.

Tim: dammit Damian, I’m almost out!

Jason slowly nodded. Wondered if he shouldn’t get a sticker book for Roy. Another for Dick just for the hell if it. His phone dinged and he lifted it up. As he opened it he saw it was a facetime call from Roy and he became excited to suggest the idea. As he opened it though, he was assaulted by the picture of Roy holding a sticker pad.

Roy: hey babe! I got this idea-

Jason: BRUCE!

Dick, running in: guys! I was fighting Slade and he gave me a sticker!