#I’m just waiting for my garters and new thigh highs :3

[bisexual-engineer-guy]

Does it count as femboy Friday if I ordered the ears and choker on Friday?

[javiscigarette]

Sweet Spot

Summary: You get a promotion at work, so Joel dresses you up and takes you out for dinner but you're hungry for somethin else

Warnings: no use of y/n, smut with the tiniest sliver of plot, established relationship, fingering, fingering in public, rough sex, oral (m receiving), spitting, a bit of choking, daddy kink ofc, degradation,

w/c: 9k (omfg) of pwp :)

a/n: I don't loveee this one but I've been sitting on it for three months and I can't get the image of freshly showered Joel out of my mind so. Here we are. Also the daddy kink as taken over, I cant stop and I'm NOT sorry!! Pls let me know what you guys think, your comments and love are the only things keeping me going. (also also, if you're someone who likes making edits for pics PLS message me I am desperate and really bad at making them)

my masterlist

Joel is in the driveway leaning over the hood of his truck when you pull up to the house, fiddling with whatever new project he decided to start this afternoon. You’re able to catch a quick glimpse of his shirt riding up a bit, exposing an inch or two of the skin of his back before he hears your car and turns around. 

You pull into the driveway next to his truck and hop out as soon as you’re in park. The warm sound of Joel’s laughter fills the air as you squeal excitedly, running around the front of your car and into his outstretched arms. He pulls you close into him, his black t-shirt hot from the sun has he squeezes you tightly. He smells like motor oil and sweat and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you going just a little bit. 

“M’guessing it went well?” Joel asks when he pulls back, chuckling as he watches you bounce up and down on your toes. 

You’d been working on this presentation for your job for two weeks now, spending hours smoothing out every minor detail, giving mock presentations to Joel and staying up late worrying about how it’ll go. 

“Everyone loved it, Joel!” you nearly shout. 

“And guess what?” you ask, not giving him any time to respond. “I got promoted!” you squeal. 

Joel’s chest is about to burst with pride. 

“M’so proud of you, angel. You worked so hard for it.” Joel tells you, his voice soft and sincere as he holds you against him. 

“We need to get in the shower,” Joel says, turning away from you to lower the hood of his truck. “I’m taking you out.” 

—-----------

You sit on the edge of the bed with your towel wrapped around your waist, waiting patiently for Joel to return from the closet. It's no surprise when he returns with a bundle of black fabric – in his hands is his favorite thing you own: the lacey black 3 piece set and the thigh high stockings to match. 

He has a wide smile, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks at you. With a soft smile in return, you drop your towel allowing it to pool on the bed around you as you expose yourself completely for him. 

“You’re so pretty, baby” 

Your ears perk up at the slight strain in his voice. You look down and grin, the outline of his half-hard cock clear as day under his black boxer briefs. 

“We’re never gonna make it to the restaurant” you laugh and move to stand up for him, despite wishing he would just give in right now and fuck you until you couldn’t see straight. 

But he just shakes his head with a chuckle as he takes your place, sitting on the edge of the bed with you standing between his knees.

“Yes we will, angel. And we’ll play when we get back, give you whatever you want…if you’re good” Joel promises, easily reading your mind. 

You huff dramatically as he picks out the garter belt from the pile and holds it up to you. He doesn’t say anything, just braces himself when you reach out and grip his shoulder for balance as you lift up one leg.   

He bends over, holding the belt open so that you can step with one foot and then the other. He then straightens back up, pulling the fabric up your legs as he does so. Heat pools in your tummy when you look down at him and see his brows knitted together in serious concentration as he dresses you. 

He does this all the time. The routine is committed to muscle memory at this point. 

It’s not that he cares about what you wear, he couldn’t give two shits as long as you’re comfortable. But the power in deciding what you’re going to wear underneath, or if you’re going to wear anything at all, gives him a rush. And he’s positively obsessed with being the one to dress you up in it, says it’s like “wrapping his own present that he gets to rip open later”. 

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin under his warm fingers. You feel so beautiful in these moments, with Joel so focused on your body inches away from his face, his eyes wide and his cock hard just at the mere sight of your exposed skin and the excitement of seeing you in whatever he picks out for you. 

He settles the belt around your waist, making sure all the edges are untucked and lying flat before reaching for the thong and repeating the process. 

“So fucking, pretty” Joel mumbles as he smooths the lace over your hips, adjusting the elastic so it stretches perfectly over your skin. Then he’s spinning you around so until you’re facing the other away, your ass on full display for him. He can’t help but press a kiss to your cheek before straightening out the back of your thong, his mouth watering at the sight of the thin strip of fabric disappearing in between your cheeks. 

Mindlessly, he reaches around to your front and slips his hand between your thighs. The tips of his fingers just barely brush over the lace of your thong but he can feel the heat of your swollen pussy underneath. 

 He sighs and wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you back into him until his cheek is squished against your lower back, his scruff scratching lightly against your sensitive skin. His fingers keep dancing over you with minimal pressure behind his touch. 

“Joel,” you whimper quietly, already getting all worked up from his minimal teasing. He just shushes you and presses another warm kiss to the back of your hip. After a couple more seconds of light brushes he slips his middle finger into the side of your thong to find your entrance and immediately sinks it inside of you. 

You yelp in surprise, and reflexively try to take a step away from him, but he’s got you tight in his grip. 

“Just wanna feel you, baby” Joel mumbles against your skin, his beard tickling you and making the muscles in your lower back twitch. He closes his eyes, fully focused on feeling your wet walls flutter gently around his finger. His brow furrows and his mouth drops open slightly when he hears your quiet whimper, the sweet sound going straight to his already painfully hard cock. 

He doesn’t even mean to tease you most of the time. Sure, he loves seeing you get all worked up just from a few gentle touches and he adores watching you fall apart underneath him, collapsing into a begging mess for him before he’s even really done anything. But most of the time it’s a genuine need to touch you. It’s like he needs to have physical contact with your body at all times, serving as a reminder that you’re real, you’re here and you’re all his. 

He slides his finger out a few seconds later, much to your disappointment. But before you can complain, he spins you back around and stares you in the eyes as brings his finger up in front of you and gently pushes it between your parted lips. You allow him without any hesitation, and he watches you in awe as you lick and suck his finger clean of your arousal, his jaw slack and eyes dark and wide.

“Ain’t it sweet, angel?” Joel asks, breathless with amusement and lust. 

You nod and he grins before slowly sliding his finger out of your mouth. 

“S’a good girl, baby” Joel comments as he reaches for one of the thigh high stockings. His praise wraps around your heart and melts into your veins, just his simple words making you feel warm and floaty. 

You watch him as he bunches up the stocking at the foot, holding it open for you to step in before pulling it up your leg. He smooths out the lace edge and makes sure that it’s even all around your thigh before he fastens the clips of the garter belt to the top of the stocking. He does the same thing with your other leg before turning you around again and fastening the clips in the back. 

Joel turns you around so you’re facing him again and then presses a kiss to the top of each thigh. 

“Fuckin’ perfect” he sighs as he leans back and admires his work. 

You blush under his gaze, his eyes burning holes in your skin as he stares hungrily. He stands up after a few moments and reaches for the matching bralette, helping you slip it over your shoulders before fastening the clasps in the back. 

He looks down at you and tries to resist the urge to touch you again but he can’t keep himself away. And the small moan you let out when he brings both his thumbs up to brush over your nipples through the lace has him nearly giving in right then and there. 

You look up at him with pleading eyes, silently telling him that you’re not going to be good for much longer if he keeps this up. He stares back at you and thinks about pushing you, letting you act like a bad girl before fucking some sense into you. But he decides he wants to show you off first. 

“Go get dressed, baby” Joel instructs gently with a smile. “Pick something nice for me.” 

— 

You decide on a black dress, one that clings to all the right places while just barely concealing the tops of your stockings and the clips holding them in place. You finish getting ready in the bathroom, and when you walk back out to the bedroom, you nearly collapse at the sight in front of you.

Joel is standing in front of the floor-length mirror with his back turned to you. He’s wearing a simple outfit: black trousers with a black button down to match. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and your mouth waters at the exposed skin of his thick neck and broad chest. 

It’s almost unfair how good he looks with his hair pushed back just slightly, the damp locks just starting to curl into their usual pattern as they air dry. Your heart races at the thought of tangling your fingers into the ones laying at the nape of his neck. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and he smirks as he finishes rolling up his sleeves until they rest perfectly at his elbows.

He then reaches for his rings – the ones you got for him as part of his birthday present earlier this year, the small gold bands that you insisted would look good on him – and picks them up from where they’re sitting on the dresser. And clearly you were right because when he turns to face you, you almost moan out loud watching him slide a ring down one pinky and then the other. He crosses the room towards you, your knees trembling as he shamelessly rakes his eyes up and down your figure. 

“Stunning” Joel whispers, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. His hands easily find your hips and he gently turns you around so you’re facing the mirror, your back pressed into his warm, broad chest. 

“I love you, angel. And I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, you know that right?” Joel asks as he wraps both arms around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder. 

“Yes, Joel, I know. I love you too” you giggle, easily flustered at his praise. 

“M’serious, baby. So proud of how hard you work, how dedicated you are” Joel starts, moving to nuzzle his face against your neck. “How smart you are” Joel continues, his lips brushing delicately over your sensitive skin. You melt so easily underneath him, relaxing into the soft glide of his warm palms up and down your sides as he whispers sweet words of praise into your neck. 

“And I bet you looked fuckin’ sexy doing it too” Joel growls,  his hands tightening on your hip. You let out a mixture between a sniffle and laugh and then feel Joel’s lips curve into a smile against your neck. He presses a kiss behind your ear and straightens back up and turns you around to face him. 

Joel’s heart turns to liquid when you look up at him through watery lashes with a wide smile. He smiles down at you and brings a hand up to wipe away your tears with the pad of his thumb before placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. 

“Now let’s get goin’. I think my good girl deserves to be spoiled.” 

— 

Joel was back to teasing you as soon got in his truck and continued to do so the whole ride to the restaurant. He kept one hand on the wheel, using the other to slide up and down your thigh, occasionally fiddling with your garter straps or just brushing the lace edge of your thong with his fingertips.

And now you’re seated at a table in a dark corner of the dimly lit restaurant, and you can barely think straight. Joel had spoiled you with the most expensive champagne, far more appetizers than two people could possibly eat and a main course of delectable pasta on a plate bigger than your head. And of course, he looked devilishly handsome the whole night, and he knows it too, smirking and looking at you like he’s about to pounce across the table and devour you. Now you sat there with a full belly, but you were still hungry for revenge. 

“What’d your coworkers say? When they saw you got promoted” Joel asks as he pours you both another glass of champagne. You furrow your brows at his question, so far away from even thinking of that whole situation at work and so turned on that you almost completely forgot about the reason why you’re even here right now. 

You look up at his face, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from the muscles bulging underneath his shirt as he sets the bottle back down. He has that knowing look in his eyes when you find them, his signature smirk thinly veiled with a sweet smile. 

Without even trying to answer his question, you slide down slightly in your chair. He watches curiously as you shift in your seat for a few seconds. Just as he opens his mouth to ask you what you’re doing, your warm foot presses against the crotch of his pants. 

He freezes in place. His hand visibly tightens around the stem of his champagne glass, and you can see the muscles in his jaw twitching. You fully expect him to push your foot back to the ground, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just leans back in his chair and spreads his knees giving you more room to work. He tilts his head and stares at you, a smirk creeping up on his lips when he sees the devious twinkle in your eye. 

You look back with a smirk to match and experimentally wiggle your toes against him. Your heart pounds in your chest when he narrows his eyes at you and slowly moves his hand beneath the tablecloth. You stop wiggling your toes when he wraps his hand around your ankle, the heat radiating from his palm to your skin like a hot iron through the thin material of your stocking. 

“Think about it, angel” he warns quietly. There’s a brief pause, where you pretend to weigh the risks and rewards, trying to decide whether to be good or bad. But your mind was made up before you even left the house. 

After a few seconds, you smirk back at him and press the ball of your stockinged foot against him. Joel chuckles and leans back in his chair again, watching you amusedly. He doesn't move, barely even flinches when you press a little harder against him and it’s infuriating. It's completely unfair how he’s able to literally bring you to your knees with a single touch but remains completely composed when you touch him. 

But what you don’t see is his heart hammering in his chest or the sweat starting to prickle the back of his neck. Truthfully, he had been just as turned on as you this whole time. Actually, he could feel the heat stirring the second that you told him about your promotion. 

He was barely able to hold back when he was picking out your lingerie for the night. He had to take a break in the closet, leaning against the dresser as he took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm himself down.

And when he started dressing you, he could’ve come right there in his boxers at the sight of the garter belt sliding up your waist.  Then the ride over here, the smell of your perfume mixing perfectly with his cologne in the cab of his truck, his head going fuzzy at the scent that seeped into the fabric of his seats, a reminder of you that’ll stick around for a few days. 

And now with your foot covered in the delicate mesh of the stockings that he dressed you in pressing deliciously against his aching cock, he’s rapidly losing his self-control. 

But Joel is just as stubborn as you, not willing to give in so easily. 

So, he bites his tongue and suppresses any noise and tenses his muscles trying not to flinch. Because seeing you get frustrated like this was just turning him on even more. He’s about to say something but you see the waiter coming up behind him and immediately move your foot back to the floor and sit up straight. 

Joel exhales heavily, releasing all the tension he was holding. He doesn’t even hear what the waiter says, too busy admiring the flustered look on your face and the slight shake in your voice as you talk to the waiter. 

The waiter leaves after a few moments and you face Joel again with a mix between a pout and a glare. 

“What was the plan there?”  Joel asks, cocking his head to the side in mock curiosity while he secretly prays that his voice doesn’t crack. 

You don’t respond, just keep glaring at him as you shove your foot back into the shoe. 

“You were being so good, what happened?” Joel presses, each word drenched with sarcastic concern. He watches delightedly as you huff and cross your arms over your chest. 

“S’okay, baby” Joel says, his voice dropping half an octave. Your stomach flutters with excitement.

 This is exactly how Joel starts off every proposition and you can’t wait to see what he wants you to do next. 

Joel pauses and looks at you with an evil glint in his eye. You should’ve seen this coming from miles away. But it still slaps you in the face when he says it. 

“I want you to slip a hand under that pretty dress and touch yourself. Right here, right now.” Joel says so quietly that you barely hear him. 

Your breath gets caught around the lump in your throat and Joel just smiles at you. 

“Go on, baby. Since you’re so needy and set on bein’ bad” Joel encourages after a few seconds of you not moving. “Or we can get the paddle out when we get home?”

The threat of paddle was more than enough.

You glance around to see if anyone can see you like this. No one was sitting near you though, the booth you’re in provides a decent amount of privacy and all direct lines of sight to you are clear. With a gulp and shift down in your seat again and your pussy throbs, pathetically turned on as you slide your hand under the tablecloth and up your dress. You move slowly to slide two fingers into the side of your thong, just like Joel did an hour earlier. 

It’s no shock how wet you are, the lace of your thong absolutely soaked, your whole cunt swollen and slick with it. Your eyes flit up to Joel’s and he gives you a small, encouraging nod.  

“You’re soaked for me, aren’t you angel?” Joel asks. His voice is so calm and steady that you almost stop and get up to walk over to his side of the table and strangle him. You’re so turned on you can barely breathe, and you’re pissed at him for it. It’s maddening how he has you so needy and desperate for him that you’re willing to touch yourself in publicwhile he just watches.

You give into your temptations easily, working quickly to soothe the aching need that spreads across every single inch of your skin. You glance around again, making sure no one is looking before you ease your middle finger into your dripping entrance, your eyelashes fluttering a bit as you curl your fingers and press up against your g-spot. 

Joel’s head is swimming as he watches you finger yourself right there in front of him in this restaurant. Any moment someone will pinch him and tell him to wake the fuck up because there’s no way in hell that this actually happening.

His head is foggy, turned on just as much as you are. His cock strains in his pants, tingles rushing down his spine as he stares at you, biting your lip, your eyes barely open and your eyebrows drawing together as you try to hold back soft moans. 

He wants more.

“Faster.” 

You snap your eyes open and look at him as if to ask if you heard him correctly. The look he gives you tells you that you absolutely did. 

Well, you’re not gonna say no to that. 

Your teeth sink deeper into your lip as you heed his orders and start pumping your finger faster. You’re painfully aware of any sounds you make, whether it’s a moan clawing its way up your throat or the slick sounds of your finger gliding through your folds, you try your best to keep it down. 

Joel of course isn’t any help. 

“Don’t be too loud, baby.” Joel whispers before taking a large swig of champagne. “Wouldn’t want ya to embarrass yourself” 

You shoot daggers at him over the dinner table, but you don’t slow down. And now he’s stumped because does he punish you for being bad, playing footsies under the table with him and fingering yourself in public or should he praise you for being a good girl and listening to him. 

“Baby,” Joel starts, his voice tight in his throat. “Show me, I want to see.” 

To his surprise, you obey easily enough and slide your finger out from under your dress. You bring your hand out from under the tablecloth to present to Joel. His adam’s apple bob in his throat, swallowing thickly at the sight of your middle finger absolutely coated in your wetness, some of it glistening on your palm as well.  He nearly loses it when you spread your fingers apart, thin strings of your arousal stretching between your digits. 

“Fuck” Joel hisses. There’s a tingle of delight in your stomach as you watch him shift in his chair, finally starting to visibly crack. 

He doesn’t say anything else, just reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket to grab his wallet. He hastily pulls out more than enough cash and nearly slams it on the table before standing up. 

“C’mon” Joel commands firmly, extending his hand out to you. You blink at him, not moving a muscle otherwise. You don’t know why, something innate inside you when you’re around him, but even when you're inches away from an orgasm you still find room to be bratty. 

“And what if I wanted dessert?” 

Joel’s jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth together, the tendons in his neck pressing against his skin and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the smirk forming on your face

“Angel,” Joel huffs. “Get up right now and I’ll give you anything you want.” 

That’s all it takes. Joel shakes his head when you immediately grab his hand and pull yourself to stand up. 

“Such a fuckin’ brat” Joel mumbles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side. He practically drags you out of the restaurant, his grip tight on your waist and your heels clicking on the asphalt as you trot next to him to keep up with his long strides as he speeds back to the truck. 

Ever the gentleman, he opens the passenger door for you, keeping his eyes glued to your body as you climb inside. With you safely inside, he slams the door shut, the sound of your heavy breathing fills the otherwise silent cab of the truck as you watch him walk over to the driver’s side. 

You wait a few moments to see if he’ll say anything, but he just stares straight ahead, the muscles in his jaw flexing subtly like he’s chewing over what he’s going to say next as he shoves the key into the ignition. 

He backs out of the parking spot and leaves the parking lot without saying a single word. Meanwhile, you’re a mess sitting next to him, 

You manage to keep your mouth shut for one whole minute. 

“I was just following your instructions” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest with an exaggerated pout. His jaw shifts to the side but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even look at you. 

You sigh dramatically and glance sideways at him to see if he’s looking. But he keeps staring straight ahead. There’s a small part of you that realizes that this is probably all part of his grand plan to drive you up the wall, work you up until you can’t take it anymore. But there’s a much larger part of you that desperately wants his attention. 

“And isn’t this my treat anyway? Shouldn’t I be getting what I want?” you press, dipping into dangerous territory just to try and get a reaction out of him. 

Still nothing. 

The thought of slipping your hand under your dress again crosses your mind, but his earlier threat of the paddle quickly extinguishes it. 

All you can do is sit there with a pout etched into your face and ride the rest of the home in silence. 

You’re about to explode when he pulls into the driveway. He slides out of his seat and strides over to your side and opens the door. The fire in his eyes burns fiercely as you take your sweet time climbing out. He slams the door shut behind you as soon as you’re out and turns on his heel and quickly makes his way to the door. You groan and actually stamp your foot in frustration. It’s just not fair. 

You stomp towards the door, arms still crossed over your chest. 

“You said you’d give me anything I want” you call after him, recalling his words from earlier as you make your way inside. 

You barely make it through the door before he’s pushing you against it, using his whole body to keep you pinned in place. Your breath catches in your throat and your knees weaken instantly, all of your resolve immediately crumbling around your feet. 

He has one hand on your waist while he braces himself with the other one on the wall next to your head. His face is inches from yours and you can smell the sweet champagne on his breath and the cologne on his skin. His eyes flit from yours to your lips, his pupils blown so wide that there’s just a sliver of brown around them 

“I said if you were good” he hisses, his voice dangerously low. “What you pulled back there? That was bad, baby. Real bad.”

“You’re the one who told me to finger my-” 

Joel’s hand flies from your waist to your throat, his broad palm pressing against your windpipe while he squeezes either side of your neck with his thumb and fingers. Heat surges down your spine and settles in your lower abdomen, your aching sex throbbing pathetically in response. 

“Don’t you try to fuckin’ spin this on me, sweetheart” Joel snarls. 

Maybe he meant to strike fear in you, maybe try to teach you a lesson. But it’s exactly what you want. Joel knows it too – you can tell by the slight smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips in response to your small, breathless gasp. 

“Was just trying to be nice to you” he starts, his voice so low at the point you doubt you’d be able to hear him from any further away. “Try to take you out to a nice restaurant to celebrate and that’s how you repay me? Playin’ with me like that under the table and then actin’ like a spoiled brat all the way home?” 

You both know he’s playing up his part. These were all minor infractions at best. Both of you knew that. You had been in this position for much, much worse behavior. But Joel isn’t dumb, and he’s well aware of what you want - to be tossed around a little, roughened up and broken down until you’re a squirming mess.  And who is he to deny you of that?

You chew on your lip before muttering a small “M’sorry daddy” 

Joel’s eyes narrow even more, the hand on your throat tightening slightly as your carefully chosen words have the exact intended effects on him.

“No, you ain’t” Joel growls. “But you will be. Get on your fuckin’ knees.”

He drops the hand from your throat and takes a step back. You exhale the breath you were holding, and you stare at him as his hands fall to his belt. Just the thought of having him in your mouth has you nearly drooling. 

But you’re not done yet.

“No” you say plainly, crossing your arms over your chest once again. 

Joel’s hands freeze on his belt, his eyes burning holes into you as you stare right back, not moving an inch from where you’re standing. 

He raises one eyebrow slightly as if to say I hope I didn’t hear what I just heard but you remain silent and motionless. After a few long moments of complete silence, Joel chuckles softly, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. He gives you one more look and then shakes his head before turning around and heading towards the bedroom.

You’re about to call after him, ask him where he’s going, but his earlier threat of the paddle floats through your mind once again. That has you panicking nearly instantly. 

You watch in disbelief as he disappears up the stairs. Your legs feel as though they’re stuck in wet concrete, and it takes a few seconds to coordinate your mind and body to get you to move. You scamper after him, a cold sweat tingling on the back of your neck as you head towards the bedroom. 

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed when you walk in, in the middle of untying his shoes. You stand in front of him, arms behind your back and patiently wait for him to toe his shoes off. 

He kicks them to the side then looks up at you with a heavy sigh, like your behavior is causing him physical pain. You offer him a meek smile as he rests his palms behind him on the mattress and leans back, his eyes raking over your body as he does so. 

He doesn’t say anything, which you take as an invitation. 

You move to climb into his lap. He doesn’t reprimand you, but he doesn’t move to hold you either. 

You sit on your knees, your legs straddling his. You can feel him through his pants and your soaked panties, still hard as diamonds. That’s a good sign at least. 

“M’sorry, daddy” you say again, much more sincerely this time. You bring your hands up to fiddle with the collar of his shirt, avoiding his eyes as you wait for a response that never comes. 

“Just wanted to play” you confess quietly. Joel still doesn't say anything, but his eyes follow your hands as you start toying with the buttons of his shirt. 

“And you just looked so handsome tonight” you continue, undoing the first button. You wait again. Still no response. 

“Thank you for taking me out” you say as you undo the next button. 

“And for dressing me up” 

Another button. 

“Making me feel so beautiful” 

And another. 

You undo the last button then push away both sides so that his whole torso is on display for you. You stare for a second, fixated on the steady rise and fall of his broad chest, the soft curve of his tummy, and the trail of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pants.

He remains silent still as you place your hands on his abdomen and slowly slide them up to his shoulders before crossing your arms behind his neck. Finally, you drag your eyes up and look at him through your lashes. His gaze is soft and much warmer than you were expecting. 

“Promise I’ll be good.” you say, barely above a whisper. 

He gives you a half smile and brings a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip. 

“You want daddy to make you feel good? Want me to fuck you til you fuckin’ stupid” Joel asks, tilting his head to the side acting like he doesn’t know the answer. 

You nod vigorously and poke your tongue out to lick at the tip of his thumb, just for good measure. 

“Thought so” Joel says as he pushes his thumb past your lips. You suck on it eagerly and let him press down on your tongue, your clit twitching with desperate need. 

“Then why don’t you show daddy how sorry you are, and I might reconsider gettin’ the paddle out.” 

You immediately pull off his thumb and sink to your knees without any further instruction. You reach for his belt, deft fingers unbuckling the belt that you’ve undone so many times before, his button and zipper following soon after. 

He stops you there and moves to stand up. You sit back on your knees with your hands on your thighs and watch as he quickly shucks off his shirt, tossing it somewhere behind him. You chew on your lip as he pulls down the waistband of his pants and boxers, his cock bobbing heavily as he steps out of them. 

Your completely transfixed by it, the veins running along the length, the redden head and the drops of precum leaking from the slit. You don’t even realize you’re staring until he slides a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Turn around” he instructs simply. 

You have no reason to disobey at this point, so you do as you’re told, turning in the small space between Joel’s leg and the edge of the bed. He takes another step forward, backing you up into the side of the mattress. 

“S’this what you wanted, baby?” he coos as he wraps a hand around himself. 

“Yes, daddy. Always want it” you respond. You look up at him through your lashes, batting them for added effect. 

“Yeah, I know you do” he rasps, taking another small step forward. He rests the head of his cock on your bottom lip, smearing precum. You dart your tongue out to lick it up. 

He drags the tip of his cock from your lips to your cheek, smearing more precum on your skin and giving you a few light smacks for good measure. 

It’s degrading, and should be humiliating, but it just makes your head spin, the fire in your stomach rapidly growing as you open your mouth for him, giving him silent permission to use you however he pleases. 

He groans softly as he pushes past your lips, sinking into the wet heat of your mouth. He’s only halfway in when you gag around him, tears already pricking at your waterline. 

“Oh, you know you can take it deeper than that, angel” 

He places both hands on the back of your head, gently forcing you down the rest of his length. You let him, focusing on breathing through your nose as rolls his hips forward until he’s buried in your throat. You gag again once he’s all the way in, but he keeps your head in place, holding you there for a few more seconds, groaning as your throat convulses around him 

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Got that throat fuckin’ trained” 

He pulls out, allows you to take a gulp of air before he’s shoving back in again. His hips quickly settle into a steady rhythm, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every thrust. You brace yourself with one hand on his thigh and you can feel the muscles working under your palm. 

“Spoiled little brat just needed daddy to fuck her throat, huh?” 

You hum around him in response, reveling in the feeling of his cock twitching against your tongue. He continues to fuck your face, completely unconcerned with the tears rolling down your cheeks and the spit leaking out of the corners of your mouth. He moves one hand from your head to your throat, his palm splaying across your windpipe. He tightens his grip just slightly, pushing against the bulge of his head buried deep in your throat. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, thrusting in all the way and staying there. “Love feelin’ myself in that tight little throat” 

The fire in your tummy burns with blinding heat at his praise. A dull ache starts to settle in your jaw as salvia slides down your chin and neck, more hot tears spilling over your lash line as you squeeze your eyes shut and try your best not to gag. 

“Take it so well” Joel pants as he starts to rock his hips again. “Fuckin’ made to take my cock.” 

The lack of air already has you feeling dizzy, and his words are only adding to the feeling. He’s not wrong –with him fucking your face like this, a strong hand on your head and the other wrapped firmly around your throat, it feels like your sole purpose in life is to please him, to be a toy he can use to make himself feel good. And you fucking love it. 

After one more strong thrust, he pulls out of your mouth completely. His cock is dripping with your saliva, a string of it connecting his head to your swollen lips. 

“Look at you” Joel coos. You look up at him through wet lashes. 

“Bein’ so good for me.” 

He moves his hand on your throat to your cheek, cupping your jaw as he wipes some of the tears away with his thumb. He then rubs it over your wet, glossy lips, and you already know what he wants next.

“Open” he commands gently, his thumb tugging down on your bottom lip. 

You obey immediately, your jaw hanging open and a smile pulls at the corner of your lips. You watch hungrily as he gathers the salvia in his mouth before he bends down slightly. He lets it drip into your awaiting mouth and you hum happily as the liquid hits your tongue. 

“Good fuckin’ girl” he rasps before spitting again, this time with more force. A small moan finds its way out of you as you keep your mouth open and let the warm liquid pool on your tongue until he gives you further directions. 

“Swallow it.” 

You do so happily, and he hums in approval before standing up straight again. He grabs his cock and guides it to your lips again. He allows you to take one deep breath before he’s pushing in again, his fingers now digging into your jaw, his other hand back on your head as he guides your movements. 

“Such a slut for it, aren’t ya?”

You nod the best you can with his cock filling your mouth. He holds you steady, giving a few well-measured thrusts down your throat before pulling out again, leaving you coughing mess below him. He looks at you lovingly as you gasp and try to catch your breath, your lips cherry red, matching the color of the rims of your eyes.

“Doin’ okay?” he asks, voice soft and gentle. 

You nod again and give him a dazed smile before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Good girl. Now stand up.” 

Joel reaches out to hold your arm as you pull yourself to stand on weak legs, your knees tight and sore from kneeling on the floor. But you couldn’t care less.

He uses both hands to hike up the hem of your dress, making quick work of lifting it up and over your head. He quickly discards it to a forgotten corner of the room before planting a wide, calloused palm square on your chest and pushing you down onto the mattress.

You land on flat on your back against plush mattress, your legs dangling off the edge. Joel reaches for a pillow, and you lift your head so he can slide it underneath. Your skin buzzes as you watch him take his place, standing at the edge of the bed between your legs. 

“So fucking pretty” Joel mutters as he smooths a hand down your front from the hollow of your throat to the tops of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He plucks at one of the black satin garter straps, letting it snap against your skin. It barely stings and you giggle and wiggle your hips in pure excitement. 

Your hungry eyes rake down his body before settling on his cock again, shiny from your spit as it bobs heavily between his legs. 

He starts working on undoing the clasps of the straps without preamble, letting you know that he’s not in the mood to take things slow, which you appreciate greatly. 

He has all four straps undone in a matter of seconds and tugs at the belt. You lift your hips, helping him to slide it down your hips and legs. The speed and carelessness he exerts as he pulls the fabric off your body is a stark contrast from how concentrated he was while dressing you in it just a few hours ago. 

With the belt out the way, he cups your pussy in his hand. The heel of his hand presses against your swollen clit through the delicate fabric of your thong, his fingers pressing firmly against the damp spot that’s been there since before you left the house. 

You whine, a high-pitched sound from the back of your throat. Joels eyes flick up from between your legs to your face, a wicked smirk curling on his lips. 

“Such a needy little pussy” he says darkly, pressing his hand further against your core. You roll your hips up and grind against his hand, chasing after the friction you’ve been craving all evening. 

But he immediately removes his hand and gives you firm smack instead. You yelp at the sensation, your clit tingling and pulsing. 

“Wanna hear you beg for it.” 

He drags his fingertips along on the edges of your panties, his touch featherlight and torturously slow. There’s a small part of you that wants to say no, that wants to argue with him, push him further, just to see what would happen. 

But you’re 10 levels above desperate for his touch. 

“Please daddy, w-want it so bad” 

Joel clicks his tongue and lands another light slap to your clothed pussy. You bite back another yelp and will your hips to stay still. 

“You know you can do better than that. Try again, tell daddy exactly what you want” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, well beyond frustrated at this point. You suck in a deep, steadying breath and exhale is slowly before opening your eyes again to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, and his jaw is tight as he looks back at you. 

“Want you to fuck me, want you so deep inside me that I can barely breathe, want you to be rough with me, make sure I can feel it for days, please daddy please. I promise I’ll be good, just – please I ne-” 

You cut yourself off when Joel digs his fingers into the lace of your thong, the sound of tearing fabric hitting your ears as he rips it off of you. 

“Joel!” you shout, sitting up on your elbows to look at him. 

He doesn't say anything, just grabs your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. But you’re still stuck on the fact that he just casually ripped off your panties like that. 

“Thought those were your favorite pair” you mumble, looking at the discarded fabric sitting on the bed. 

“Shut up” Joel grunts as he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, steadying himself and lining up at your dripping entrance. “I’ll buy you more.” 

You’re about to say something back, but he slides in before as soon as you open your mouth, effectively taking your breath away. 

The stretch of his thick cock inside you as he sinks in all the way in one smooth motion is enough to wipe your brain clean. 

He stays still once he’s inside, his tip kissing your cervix. He curses under his breath as your walls spasm around him, already milking him for all that he’s worth.

“Always so fuckin’ tight for me. Perfect little pussy.”  

You let him maneuver you into position, one of his hands cupping the back of your knee, lifting your leg up to rest on his shoulder, both of you sighing as the angle pushes him just a bit deeper. He brings your other leg up but keeps it pinned to the bed with a strong hand on your thigh, leaving you spread open just for him. 

Without warning, he draws his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out before slamming back in. 

You cry out, your hands scrambling for purchase on the duvet. You’ve taken him countless times before. But he’s big. And no matter how wet or turned on you are, without opening you up first on his fingers, your walls are aching and tingling as he forces your body to mold to his. 

And it’s exactly what you asked for. 

He grinds his pelvis against your clit, his cock bumping into a spot that’s impossibly deep inside of you. You jolt at the sensation and reflexively try to scoot up the bed, your already overwhelmed body trying to get away from the intense feeling. 

“Oh, don’t run from it now” Joel growls, grabbing one of your hips and forcing you back down on his cock. “Begged for it all night, so I’m gonna fuckin’ give it to ya” 

“S-so much daddy, you’re so– oh fuck. You’re so fucking big” You whimper pathetically, your hands gripping the duvet so tight that your nails are digging into your palms even through the barrier of the fabric. 

“I know it’s a lot, angel. But you can take it,” Joel pants. “Can’t you?” 

You nod lazily against the pillow as he pulls out again.

“What’s your safeword” he asks, the head of his cock resting just a few inches inside of you, providing you with enough relief to answer. 

“Red” you whine. 

“Good girl. Do you wanna use it?” 

You immediately shake your head

“No.” 

“That’s my girl” Joel growls before slamming back in again, knocking the air straight out of your lungs. Your back arches with the feeling as he quickly builds up his pace. 

He fucks into you like it’s his last day on earth, fast and rough, just like you begged for. Just like he knows you need. Your whole body feels electrified while moans tumble freely past your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head. 

With your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but you do feel Joel’s lips pressing against your ankle that’s resting on his shoulder, lips warm and wet through the sheer fabric of the stocking that he never took off. 

“Little pussy is takin’ me so well, angel” Joel mumbles against your ankle “Feel so good wrapped around me, squeezing me like that” 

He starts a trail of kisses from your ankle to your knee, his hips not faltering in pace, not even once. The last of the stinging ache melts away as your walls stretch to fully accommodate him. He has an iron grip on your ankle, and his fingers on his other hand dig into the meat of your thigh, creating small purple marks under the smooth skin. The hot coil in your stomach is starting to tighten as you moan incessantly. And of course, Joel notices. 

“Get those tits out, angel.” 

You whimper underneath him and try your best to follow his instructions. Your arms feel like cinder blocks as you unclench your fists from the duvet and move your hands to your chest. You grab the cups of your bralette and tug them down, letting your breast spill out over the tops. 

Joel gives you a few words of praise that you can’t fully process. You already feel delirious, his cock quickly turning you into a useless, needy puddle underneath him. 

“Play with ‘em for me.” 

You do as your told and cup your breasts, one in each hand before gently tweaking your nipples with your thumb and forefinger. Joel gives you more indistinguishable praise as you let your eyes slip closed again, completely surrendering to the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

The hand that Joel has wrapped around your ankle slides down to the back of your thigh, pushing on your leg and forcing your knee into your chest and sending his cock even deeper. 

“Ohhh, daddy shit fuckfuckfuckk” you whine as the head of his cock nudges against the spot that only he has ever found over and over again, the same spot he finds every single time. 

“There ya go” he whispers as you start to squirm underneath him, your jaw slack and your walls fluttering around him.  “You gonna cum, pretty girl? Gonna make a mess on daddy’s cock?” 

You nod vigorously but you already know he wants more than that. 

“Want–” you try to start, but Joel’s hand landing on your clit steals your breath, a loud moan coming out instead. 

“C’mon, baby. Keep goin” Joel urges breathlessly, two of his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Sound so pretty when you beg. Look at me while you do it.” 

You groan and open your eyes again to meet his gaze. His chest is heaving with every breath, muscles flexing deliciously as he fucks you with everything that he has, pounding you further and further into the mattress. 

“Please let me cum daddy, M’so close –ah oh my god please let me cum please please please let me.” 

“You can cum, angel. Keep those eyes on me and show me how pretty you look when you cum on this cock” 

It’s only a few more seconds of him pummeling into you and his fingers drawing expert circles on your clit to send you over the edge.

You lock eyes with him and let out a long, loud moan as your orgasm starts to rip through you, your whole body trembling with pure, white hot bliss. He fucks you through it, on the heels of his own release as you shake underneath him, your warm, wet walls rhythmically clenching and fluttering so perfectly around him. 

“Gonna make me cum, honey” Joel grits out, his pace getting more and more uneven. 

“Inside” you manage to whine, still riding out the last of your orgasm. 

“Yeah, baby, I know. Gonna fill you up so good” 

One, two, three more thrusts until you feel his cock pulsing as he starts to spill his load deep inside of you with a loud groan from somewhere deep in his chest. He keeps fucking you, pushing his spend deeper and deeper inside of you until he he’s too sensitive to continue. He buries himself in you as deep as he can and stills. 

After a few moments, Joel straightens your legs out on the mattress then pulls out of you, moving off of you and flopping down flat on his back next to you with a heavy sigh.

Labored breaths are the only sound in the room as you both come down. You whole body feels like jell-o, all thoughts moving slowly through your syrupy head. You can’t help but giggle next to him, feeling positively euphoric after getting your brains fucked out of your skull. 

Joel turns his head to look at you. 

“What’re you laughin’ at?” he asks, a smile quickly spreading on his face. He rolls onto his side and props his head up on his hand. He wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, despite you being dead weight right now. 

You look up at him, eyes hooded with a lazy smile. You try to think of something to say but all you can manage is another giggle, which makes Joel chuckle too. 

“You’re such a goose” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. 

“Thought I was a spoiled little brat?” 

Joel rolls his eyes and rests his cheek on his hand again, his smile still glued to his face. 

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

“So, I’m a spoiled little bratty goose?” 

“Mhmm.” 

You grin and scoot closer into him. 

“That sounds like a lot to handle” 

You squeal when he pinches your hip. 

“Tell me about it,” Joel sighs, lying his head down on the mattress and wrapping his body around yours. You smile like an idiot with your face squished against his chest, fully satisfied once again. 

Thank god you got that promotion. 

Thank you for reading I love all sm!!!

[https-furina]

just my personal rambles about how much i love fontaine utc ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

i’ve literally been bottling up my sheer adoration for this country since we started getting hints at it and teasers; i share a mild connection with france itself as french is my second language and i spent majority of my childhood between marseille and london so i was so excited for a sense of familiarity in fontaine and i was also incredibly excited for the lowkey steampunk aesthetic they gave fontaine )):

so like first things first; the archon quest??? has left me gasping, shaking, bawling, on my knees choking on tears!!! and like the best part about it is that it’s only just begun <3 my favourite thing is that with past countries, we could get a feel where the archon quest plot was going. in inazuma you recognise that ultimately you’re going against the raiden shogun and you’ll fight her before you can ask her about your sibling and in sumeru it becomes obvious that the government is the problem and you need to free the dendro archon but in fontaine? where are we going with this?

what is the prophecy truly? is it from a curse from celestia? what about furina’s status? is she just another helpless archon drowning her sorrows in trials because if she doesn’t live in that moment she’ll remember the prophecy she undoubtedly believes in, knowing her people’s sins will never be washed clean? what about arlecchino? is there actually a good motive behind her or is there going to be a hidden twist when you least expect it? how the hell are we supposed to help fontaine from submerging? and what about childe’s loss of control for his vision? i’m SO EXCITED because i have so many questions and very little answers! (who knows i might update this with more questions after doing 4.1’s archon quest)

then there’s the soundtrack!! i don’t know about yall but i’ve been going idle in absolutely every place possible just listening to the music and the ambience. i’m absolutely in love with the underwater music, i have my favourite underwater song playing in my teapot and i sit in my teapot in awe every time <3 i’m so excited for future regions’ music and how these new locations may differ from what we have now (not to mention the range of orchestra instruments hoyo included in making fontaine’s ost!)

not to mention all the species! i love the clockwork concepts (especially the dogs pfft) but also just the animals in general??? the OTTERS?! the blubberbeasts and even the seahorses, the dogs that wear silly little outfits and birds that look like they came out of pokemon aaaa <3

the flowers !! pluie lotuses that i pick every time i see them because i would kill just to have a vase full in my kitchen window <33 and the rainbow roses that look more like tulips or the lumidouce bells that are like the lovechild of bluebells and lily of the valley ): i can’t wait to see more as an ex-florist who still clings to her relationship with flowers

melusines <33 need i say more? their quest regarding elynas had me sobbing and screaming honestly, i long for more lore about them - not to mention they are such funky little genderless creatures, i aspire to be them hehe - and more quests regarding them; like i physically need melusine content or i’ll be perishing ):

character outfit designs!! everyone just looks so good i’m sorry but there isn’t a single outfit i’ve even remotely disliked yet. everyone looks amazing, hot, baking some damn goods - like we got geo taylor swift and electro lana del ray, an archon with heterochromia, some elf looking ass man who could be a dragon - or an otter, i like otter more - the wolf looking mf who wardens a prison??? magicians in thigh highs, stockings, garters and boots?! with matching bows?! AND FREMINET’S WHOLE DIVER’S HELMET ORDEAL AND COLOUR PALETTE?? i can’t i’m too in love with everyone (and all their english voice actors are fantastic too!!)

the airships being the most fun thing i have ever seen in my whole life, i routinely go on the airship at the west slopes of mont automnequi because you can see almost all of our past locations there! you can see deshret’s masoleum, the divine tree, the jade chamber and (i think) dragonspine. not to mention you get a good ass look at fontaine and some things in areas we haven’t got yet - also you can see how close celestia is to fontaine… i still remember all the theories about celestia and mondstadt (╥ ω ╥)

being able to dive out of water with fontaine characters & hydro traveler (please please please let us dive with wriothesley and neuvillette, just because they’re the first two tall characters we’ve got i’m so curious if we can)

building a relationship with berrypuff ♡(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ proceeding to cry when we release berrypuffier and then cry again when you run into them in the wild <3 i’ve also grown attached to the dog in the ship graveyard, i go there daily to feed them chicken and i cook dishes while i’m there hehe

the dishes in fontaine!! i still cackle daily about fonta ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა oh and salsa! she’s so annoying but at the same time i love that kid hehe

i could go on for too long aaaa.. i love fontaine guys. i thought i was sad seeing sumeru finally go but i think i may cry when it’s time to leave fontaine. i’ve never been so excited for a genshin region and plot since inazuma and inazuma has always been my favourite up until now. i think the only things i’ll be excited for after fontaine is meeting the tsaritsa and khaenri’ah <3

[mavrintarou]

[2:02 P M] Rintarou's story

Anonymous asked:

I feel like Suna would get jealous and protective over y/n and hate the way the twins treat her and would be like “yea you’re coming with me and we’re living happily ever after” and y/n would be like “cool im down because I loved you in high school too and that dick waaaay too bomb”

You asked and I tried to deliver. I left the rest to your imagination... now I'm dying to know the twins individual story!

Warning: S M U T; (my brain is fried to go into too much details and I apologize); 18+Note: nothing edited, I just needed to get this out.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 (read it after all the side character story)- Atsumu's story - Osamu's story

.

“Just lay there,” he coos, “I’ll take care of you.”

You exhale softly, slowly dropping yourself back on his bed. Your legs are spread wide with him kneeling in between.

He teases the tip of his cock at your folds, pressing just enough before letting go, and his cock bounces back against his abdomen.

“Rin,” you hear yourself whine.

“Okay, okay…” he smirked before pushing the tip of his cock inside you.

Before Rintarou became your third sex partner, you spent most Mondays and Tuesdays with Osamu and then most Thursdays to Fridays with Atsumu.

That was the routine; you always had to keep it fair.

Until they invited Rintarou.

It had been a few weeks since that night, and now, you weren’t sure if the twins knew you were seeing Rintarou on Wednesdays and some weekends.

It all started when you had to go away to Tokyo for a work project for two weeks.

Two weeks without the twins, you looked forward to just having some time alone.

You had yet to learn that Rintarou would be in Tokyo as well. His volleyball training took place in Tokyo.

You were out celebrating when suddenly, a chair was pulled beside you. Startled, you turned to see who it was, and your eyes widened in surprise when you realized it was Rintarou. Your whole team shared the same shocked expression as you.

Rintarou greeted you with a friendly smile and a wink, sitting next to you. The introduction followed as he introduced himself in a charismatic manner that instantly captivated everyone present.

“Y/n! You never told us you knew professional volleyball players!”

Your smile doesn’t meet your eye… because Rintarou’s hand is inching up your skirt.

An hour later, as your team split off and you found yourself outside the restaurant, you glanced at Rintarou, still lingering nearby. Confusion filled your expression as you couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t left yet.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked, a slight frown forming. “Aren’t you going to go too?”

Rintarou turned towards you, a hint of a mischievous smile on his lips. “I’m waiting for you,” he replied, his voice carrying a teasing undertone.

Your frown deepened as you sought an explanation. “Why?” you inquired, genuinely puzzled by his persistence in staying behind.

Stepping closer, Rintarou’s hands gently reached out, his fingers carefully tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. A soft, nostalgic smile graced his lips as he spoke, “what are the odds,” he began, voice filled with wonder, “that we would cross paths here, miles away from our usual surroundings.”

Twenty minutes later, you were tugged into his hotel with his mouth hungrily over yours.

“You’re wearing too many clothes…” he mumbles. You stopped him before he could tear any piece of your work clothes. “I’ll buy you a new one, just get it off.” He growled, trying to help you remove your clothes faster.

You hurried, just as eager as he was to shred your clothes.

Before you can unclip your bra, you’re pushed on the couch with his mouth on yours again.

“Leave it,” he mumbles, fingers tracing from your chest to your hip. He then traces your lace garter belt, “I wanted to rip your fucken stockings off at the restaurant.”

You had only started to wear stockings after Atsumu would leave marks on your thighs and sometimes anywhere lower than your knee. He was a notorious bitter.

Rintarou settles between your legs, and your heart races when he touches a very new mark Atsumu left a few days ago that still looked fresh and vibrant.

It’s his silence that makes you nervous.

“How long have you been sleeping with them?”

You learned to embrace the truth that you enjoy sex and having multiple partners.

But his question made you feel shameful.

“A few months now… since their birthday.”

He hummed and stood up to yank off his shirt. He unbuckles his trousers enough to pull his hard long cock out. He gives it a few strokes, breath shaky as he gazes down at you. He grabs one of your legs, hooks it over his shoulder, and presses the other outward. He hooks your panties aside with a finger, and you gasp, feeling his entire length impale you hastily.

He rocks his hips effortlessly, creating a rhythm.

Like the first time, his cock presses against your cervix with each thrust.

“Should we…” he reaches for something, his phone. “Send a goodnight video to the brothers?”

You shake your head, unable to find your voice.

“Why? They send me videos of them fucking you all the time?”

At this point, you aren’t even shocked. Osamu and Atsumu enjoy poking each other when they have you all to themselves. Now, they have Rintarou to include.

His phone hovers over you, precisely where his cock is drilling into you. “Look whom I ran into today?” he speaks, recording his voice.

You always turn your face away and avoid looking into the camera.

“She feels pretty tight tonight….” He chuckles, “cutting it short, boys, she’s mine tonight.”

His phone is tossed on the coffee table, and his hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “You’re mine.”

You grab the back of his head, pulling him down to kiss you.

His mouth gently moves against yours, tongue dancing with yours.

Your eyes shoot open, nearly biting his lips as he lifts you quickly.

“Rin!” Your arms lock around his neck as he walks with you, bouncing on his cock with each step.

He carries you to the bed but doesn’t put you down.

It was your turn to gaze down at him.

And he looks at you with an expression you haven’t seen before.

His arms are hooked under your knees, keeping you open at his mercy.

You slowly rock your hips, and his hands support your weight as you bounce on his cock.

Rin buries his face against your neck, nipping and sucking.

“Don’t mark me…” you utter.

“Why not?” When you don’t reply fast enough, he nips your shoulder blade. “You let them mark you, but not me?”

You pull back to look at him, “they know they can’t mark me where I can’t hide it easily.”

His face scrunches in annoyance, and you kiss it away.

Your hips rock harder and deeper, craving to be filled.

“Rin…”

“I know… me too.” He chokes, breath rugged from supporting your weight.

His nails dig into your flesh and pound into your pussy fast and deep.

Your arms tighten around his shoulder and neck, your pussy bruised and battered.

“Rin!”

Your pussy flutters around his cock, and you feel the spurts filling your womb.

You had no strength left, barely holding on to him.

He shifts his grip, slowly still lifting you easily and rocking into your sensitive pussy.

At last, he lays you down on the bed, still inside you. You stared silently at one another, trying to catch your breath and calm your heart.

Rintarou gently rocks his hips and pleads, “you should stay the night…”

. .

He never sent a video that night. You had anticipated your phone blowing up from the brothers.

“I just want you all to myself; they don’t need to know.” Was his response.

For the fifth day in a row, you stayed with him, laying lazily in bed, tangled together while cuddling or sleeping. You two would meet after work and his training, get dinner, and return to his hotel since it was closer.

You were engrossed in the movie that you didn’t hear him call your name.

A hand gently grips your jaw, forcing you to turn your head to lock your eyes with his. “Did you hear me?”

Your gaze shifted and remained fixed on the screen, barely acknowledging his words. “Rin, this is the part – “

“I asked,” he interrupted, his tone cutting through your thoughts. “What if you stopped seeing the twins?”

You blinked, caught off guard by his question. “What?”

“I’m asking if you would stop seeing the twins.” He repeated, his voice filled with earnestness, “for me.”

. . .

>>>@callmeraider @amarinthe @chaotic-fangirl-blog

E/n: Oh Lord Mary and Joseph, what would you do?

[amerrierworld]

Little Songbird (pt 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu becomes addicted to your voice and wants to hear you... sing some more.

Characters: Alcina Dimitrescu x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,087

Warnings: The extra Smut Chapter ;)

The next day, you were a bit exhausted from the previous night’s... activities. But you set about work the same way as usual, though buzzing with an unusual excitement about the evening to come. 

You were working on repairing a rip in one of your old dresses. You really wanted to impress the Lady and look as good as possible, now that she had taken a liking to you. As you worked, the head maid asked you about your previous night’s duties while preparing lunch.

“It wasn’t all bad.” You kept your gaze on the hole in the dress you were mending as she prepped ingredients. “The Lady seemed very preoccupied. I don’t think I was much of a bother.”

“That’s very rare,” another maid cackled while peeling potatoes next to you. “She always looks at us like we’re the dirt on the bottom of her shoes. But I suppose the pay is good.”

“Not freezing out in the cold is very good pay, I agree,” the head house maid said dryly. “I suggest you try to keep it that way.”

The maid looked flustered at the comment and scampered off, intimidated by her gaze and muttering something about more things to be done. You bit your lip to stop from smiling.

“How was it really, my dear?” The head maid turned to you, a much kinder look in her eyes now. “The Lady can be a touch.. harsh.”

“It was fine, really. I didn’t know she had a piano until now.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve never heard her play myself, but I’ve heard stories she used to perform. Especially around holidays or important events.”

“Really?” Your mouth gaped a little as she explained. “I didn’t know she was that good at piano.”

“Oh, no, dear. Not piano. She would sing. It’s a bit sad we haven’t heard her sing at all in our time at the castle. I suspect it would make her a little more approachable. But that may not be what she wants. I’ve heard she was quite a talented singer though...”

As she kept talking, the needle had stilled in your hands, your body freezing at the sudden revelation. Lady Dimitrescu, a singer? Surely not. 

“..Are you alright?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, thinking of how she would sound, what she would sing, and if you would ever get to hear her sing. 

“Yes, yes I’m fine.” You kept pushing the needle through the fabric, trying to remain calm. You felt your body tingle as you remembered the way she wanted to hear you sing. “I have to say, it is quite surprising.”

“Our Lady is definitely full of surprises.” She patted your shoulder before leaving you to your thoughts and your half-stitched handiwork. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to focus on any tasks for the rest of the day now.

Later that night, you hurried to sneak through the hallways on your way to your Lady’s bedchambers. You really didn’t want anyone to see you on the way, since you had no supplies to have an excuse of a chore to be done this time. There was one maid who caught your eye, and she gave you a curious once-over as you walked by in your nicest dress, looking like you were going out rather than going to bed. 

When you got to the door of the room, your heart was thundering in your chest. Your hands had gotten sweaty, and you didn’t understand what was so stressing for you. She had seen every inch of you already, had stripped you on top of the piano, and made you come like you never had before.

You delicately rapped your knuckles on the door, and waited for long, agonizing moments for a response. When none came, you became curious. You turned the door handle and pushed. It opened with no resistance, and there seemed to be no noise coming from inside the room.

You poked your head inside, and was once again astounded by the sheer size of the room. Against your better judgment, you slipped inside and shut the door behind you. Being early was always a good thing, you decided.

Since Lady Dimitrescu wasn’t there yet, you had time to take it in. You were drawn to the massive bed, and the dark red sheets that adorned it. Probably the best colour choice, you figured, considering the high risks of blood stains on any surface in the entire castle. 

You approached and ran a hand over the edge of the fabric, marvelling at its silkiness and expensive textures. It reminded you of everything Lady Dimitrescu liked to wear; expensive, silky, smooth...

The door slammed open, ripping the quiet thought out of your brain, and there stood Lady Dimitrescu. Her expression was fuming, angry, but it didn’t seem to be directed at you, because the minute she saw you standing in the room, it softened in confusion. Like she had forgotten you’d be coming.

You let go of the sheets and clasped your hands behind your back, curtsying quickly in fear of her anger and not wanting to step out of line. She nearly scoffed at you, and took a few long strides to the vanity, sitting down heavily on the bench.

“Help me with my dress.” Her tone was curt, demanding. You paled a little, thinking this night wasn’t gonna go how you expected it to, but still doing as she said. You were a maid, after all.

With her seated, it was easier to reach the buttons along her back, and you made quick work of them. But when you stepped back and she didn’t make any move to get out of her seat, you realized she wanted you to get the entire garment off her.

Her pointed gaze at you in the mirror disappeared from view as you approached the open back and pushed the two halves of the dress aside like peeling delicate fruit. You couldn’t help it; you ran your hands along the thick skin of her back as the dress fell off her shoulders, revealing a tantalizing bra clasp right at eye level that you could have undone quickly if you wanted to.

“You’re being quite bold, little one,” Lady Dimitrescu finally spoke, her voice deep, sultry, but not gentle like it had been last night. There was an iciness to it that stung. Your hands had been lingering a little too long on her skin.

“Forgive me, my lady,” you said, stepping away as she got up to her full height and let the dress pool at her feet. You saw heels in your view and stockings raking up long legs, but you didn’t dare look any higher. 

“Oh, pet. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She ran a hand over your head and walked past you. Your instincts kicked in and you picked up the dress to fold tidily on the vanity’s bench. The slightest touch from her fingers made you shiver, and a blush crept up the back of your neck.

“Look at me, sweetling.”

You turned around to face the bed, where she was sitting, one leg swung over the other, hands perched behind her on the mattress. Yellow eyes looked at you and you gulped for air at the sight of her.

“You’re allowed to look, darling. It would be a bit inconvenient if you weren’t.”

Your cheeks were burning now, but you finally let your eyes wander down her frame. Her lingerie was the epitome of femininity, yet dark and sultry, just like her. The black lace hugged her curves. Her stockings were held up by a garter belt, and she kicked off her heels with one smooth jerk of her legs. 

Her tummy folded in when she was seated, and her thighs, though muscular and lean, were thick and looked strong enough to crush your entire body if she wanted to.

“Come here.” That familiar voice zapped through you and you approached the bed, briefly wondering if what you had heard about her singing talents were true. You supposed it wouldn’t surprise you. As a lady of her standard, learning an instrument or musical skill must’ve been a required lesson for her etiquette. 

She picked you up to sit in her lap, and you squeaked in surprise as she lifted you once again. A chuckle rang throughout the room and you looked up at her, relieved to see the earlier anger had dissipated from her gaze when she looked at you.

“I’m glad you’re here. I had almost forgotten you were coming,” she said, running hands soothingly over your thighs as you straddled her. “I apologize if I was a bit of a sight when I arrived. The staff in this castle is somewhat... incompetent at times.”

So it was the staff that had made her angry. Did another maid try to escape? Enter the cellar? Was there an errand boy that couldn’t keep his hands off of one of the new deliveries? 

Her head lowered to breathe in your scent, lingering right by your ear. You let out a heavy sigh at the feeling of her so close to her, and you reached out to grip her upper arms that framed your body. You ran your fingers along her skin, and she recoiled for a moment, pulling away.

You froze. Did you do something wrong? Fear etched in your eyes, you looked up at the Countess, wondering if you stepped out of line for touching her. Then her gaze focused in on you and she seemed to relax a little.

“Don’t stop.”

Was it a request? An order? You didn’t mind either way, because now your hungry hands ran over her, feeling the dimples and ridges of scars and stretched skin all over. You explored with your hands as much as you did with your eyes, gazing at her cleavage, the curve of her neck, the muscles in her shoulders. 

You ran a hand over her tummy, feeling softness and subconsciously prodding it a little with your fingertip. She giggled at the feeling. Giggled. Her body jostled a bit, moving you about. You liked the feeling and the softness, so kept your hands there.

“I can see a question in your eyes, little one,” Lady Dimitrescu purred, combing a hand through your hair. You cast your gaze downward, running a hand over her skin repeatedly, familiarizing yourself with the patterns of the stretch marks.

“Just.. something I heard today.”

“And what was that?”

You squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m not sure if you want to hear.”

A finger tipped your chin up to her piercing eyes, “I doubt it’ll go unnoticed by me, sweetling. Even if you don’t tell me now, I will hear about it.”

Your mouth went a little dry at that. She was right, nothing happened in this castle without her knowing about it, but goodness... the power behind those words made you weak in the knees. Thank heavens you were sitting. 

“I was told you used to be a singer.”

An amused look crossed her face. “Is that it? I was expecting you to announce a mutiny at hand.”

You shrugged slightly, delighted in the way her hand reached to cup the back of your neck, a thumb running over your throat. “I was hardly a singer, darling. But yes, I used to.. dabble in performance. Long ago.”

“Is that why you were so interested in my singing?” 

She grinned, teeth gleaming. “I was interested in your singing because I was interested in you, little songbird.”

She tugged you impossibly closer, leaning down and running her wicked tongue over where her hand had just been on your neck. 

“W-will I ever get to hear you?” you managed to huff out, because now her firm hands were holding your middle, exploring your body the way you had been exploring hers.

“Is that what you want? To hear me sing?”

You nodded, because the low timbre of her voice was reverberating throughout your whole body, and you suddenly needed to hear it singing a tune.

“Perhaps... if you indulge me like I had indulged your last night, you may get to hear me sing too.”

You felt the tips of your ears nearly burst into flames, but you were so desperate... so eager to please. You nearly dropped down to the floor to get on your knees. 

She chuckled, “not so fast. I have a better idea.”

Lady Dimitrescu shuffled back on the bed until she was up against the pillows. Shoving a pillow under her lower back, she crooked a finger to beckon you closer, spreading her legs. The sight of her, half in candle light, spread out for you this time, but still in charge, made you swoon.

You crawled towards her and pressed your lips against the inside of her knee. She rocked her hips a little at the feeling of your warm, small mouth on her body, and fisted a hand in your hair.

“I really won’t need any foreplay, dear,” she said in a hushed tone. “Give me your mouth.”

You raced to tug the black lace panties off of her long legs, and were met with the sight of slick, swollen flesh. A carnal desire overtook you, and you surged forwards to press your mouth against her, desperate to taste.

A soft ‘oh’ escaped the giantess at your eagerness and your soft tongue tasting her arousal without hesitation. She enjoyed teasing you, yes, making you beg and dance around the sexual gratification she could give you. But this, your hunger and desire to please, made her warm all over.

“Good girl,” she said softly as your tongue began flicking over her swollen clit, lightly and experimentally. Your hands gripped the inside of her thighs, keeping them steady and spread. She was able to look down at you, and realized her rough gripping had made your hair come undone, causing curls and locks to drop down, loose and wild. Your eyes met hers, pupils dilated, and then you sucked. 

The high-pitched cry that escaped her was broken and sudden, and it made your body flood with arousal. Your legs trembled a little, the space between your legs begging for attention.

“Oh, who would have thought you’d be so good with your tongue, sweetling?” Lady Dimitrescu moaned, “I knew you were talented.. but that mouth...”

Her sentence was left unfinished, and she bit her lip, groaning softly in the back of her throat as you kept going. Your fingers rubbed her folds, teased her entrance, kissing and sucking until you could find a rhythm that made her squeak.

A nip at the hood of her clit made her gasp delightfully, so you did it again. The hand in your hair pressed down to bury your face in her cunt.

“Wicked girl,” she growled, and you moaned against her, your face wet. “Don’t you dare stop now.”

You pressed harder, one hand pushing three fingers at her entrance without any resistance as they slid inside. Your brain wasn’t working enough to keep up the pace of both, so you curled them and pressed against that soft, swollen frontal wall, scratching with the pads of your fingertips.

She nearly howled, a string of soft curses and... were those pleads? Her eyes were screwed shut, and you looked up at her strong, soft body. You couldn’t help but reach down and rub yourself through the fabrics of your clothes with your other hand. 

Eventually she noticed when she opened her eyes again, and she chuckled, making a point of slowly rolling her pelvis into your face. 

“Couldn’t keep your own hands off of yourself?” she said, her voice slurred with arousal. You made a whiny sound, restrained by your tongue and mouth against her cunt.

“I want you to come with me,” she gasped, her thick thighs beginning to shake from approaching her orgasm. You rubbed yourself even harder, eager to do as she said. 

Her usually-reserved voice came out in whimpers and low growls, and you sucked hard at her clit again, pressing your fingers deep inside, and her whole body instantly convulsed. 

Her cries of pleasure and incoherent words of praise made you topple over the edge shortly after. Her well-kept hair was undone, her mascara a little smeared, and her hands were digging painfully into your scalp. She let go once the last tremors left her body, and you relaxed against her thigh, breathing in her smell and kissing her everywhere you could reach.

“Well done, little songbird,” she cooed, eventually managing to open her eyes again and look at you. “You really are too precious for words.”

You blushed. You extracted your hand from between your legs, grimacing a little at the stickiness of your clothes.

“Let’s get you out of those,” Lady Dimitrescu whispered softly. You let her hands lift you up like you weighed nothing, and strip you.

“But- work...” you made a feeble attempt to get up, but she tutted, holding you closely to her chest, your head resting on her breasts. 

“Nonsense. You will stay the night here. You’re in no state to return to your duties yet.” She spoke curtly again, meaning there was no room for argument, but the soft throb between your legs and the haziness of your sated mind already left you limp and jelly-like. You wouldn’t have made it out the door without collapsing even if you did try to leave.

And so, you were bundled up in her arms, the blankets pulled up around your trembling form. She had pulled out a book from her nightstand and let you relax against her body as she flicked through the pages, a quiet peace filling the atmosphere around you. And then you heard it.

With your head pressed against her chest, you heard the rumble of her voice under your ear, and then her soft humming filled the room. You held your breath as you listened to the low, baritone-like notes, and the occasional page flipping of her book. 

You didn’t know the song, didn't know if it came with words, or if she had come up with it right now, but it made your heart flutter. Did she know you were still awake? 

Eventually, a hand came off of the book and pressed on your head, helping you settle against her warmed skin a little more, and then she spoke,

“Sleep, little songbird. There’ll be plenty of times for you to hear me later.”

A/N: It really doesn’t take much to convince me to write more of a series when I love them as much as this one ;) I hope you have ~enjoyed~

[oneprompt]

hi… your writing is absolutely amazing <33 can you do a sanji x reader WHERE HES JUST RLLY SUBMISSIVE TO YOU ?? or one where he’s dominant because I don’t see dom sanji a lot.. but I’m a slut for submissive sanji so like ‼️ it’s embarrassing to say but can this be nsfw? the scenario could be where sanji asks you to be dominant in the bedroom, and like when you start to degrade him HE REALLY LIKES IT SO YOU KEEP DOINF IT AND ]\]+|¥ okay am I explaining this well?? This is my first time submitting a request I’m so sorry if this makes no sense . basically just a sanji x reader where sanji enjoys being degraded <3 if you can of course! 🧡

authors note : thank you so much , im flattered to hear such a kind thing directed at me ! <3 and this request ? i adore your brain , sanji is . most definitely a sub ! i did hc + a drabble like i always do <3 hope these are enough

NSFW / SMUT WARNING

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.......

tags : degrading , femdom , sub / dom , ( verbal ) masochism , ( alight ) master kink

Sub! Sanji x Dom! Reader Headcanons

• You were a bit surprised from the sudden change of pace from Sanji. You both have a rather fluid routine when it came to sex , neither of you ever being a strict sub or dom. And with the mention of things such as verbal degrading and humiliation... you couldn’t help but be taken aback. Not in a bad way, of course! You were more then open to spice things up with your lover.

• You couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious as you stepped into your shared room, dark blue lace masking your most feminine areas, a garter holding up the matching stockings. You had picked out the lingerie to match the blue that Sanji often wore. Needless to say, his reaction to your body is instant. But who can blame him, truly? Seeing a woman in such scandalous clothing, you’re bound to grow antsy.

• You two are immediately on each other, kissing and touching one another. The more foreplay and light touches Sanji gave you, the more excited you got, the fabric of your brand new panties already grow wet. Sanji seemed so desperate, so needy..

• You found yourself shocked by your own words, the heat of the moment carrying your words better then your own brain. “You’re such a pervert... already getting so hard for me. What type of freak rubs his dick on a girls new clothes?” Your own jaw dropped at your words. Would Sanji be upset over you saying that? Would he have taken it to heart?

• To your relief, you were met with the view of Sanji’s face turning a pure shade of scarlet, his eyes half lidded. He had such a cute smirk on his face, he looked so shy, despite the large erection that peeked up from his boxers. He couldn’t help but fawn over your attitude, encouraging to take your insults even further.

• And so you did. Sure, you still felt a bit guilty for being so cruel to him but you couldn’t deny how worked up it was getting you, nor how pleasing it was for your boyfriend. Sanji showed the most pleasure as you yanked on his tie, ordering him around and calling him tons of names.

• When you two get to the main course, Sanji had already been made a mess by the grinding of your hips and words alone. So, once you prop yourself up ontop of him and let your flooding hole hold his member captive, he turns into pure putty. It’s cute. So very cute.

• The way Sanji pleads and begs for you, moaning and mewling as he repeated your name over and over again. He was a mess, he looked like a true man whore beneath you. You make sure to still degrade him and occasionally yank at his blonde locks while making him pleasure you with his sweet dick.

• Sanji is quick to cum ( not without begging first , though ), letting out a high pitched whine and moan as he came inside of you, even getting a bit on you as he pulled out afterward, leaving your thighs and labia a cum drizzled scape.

Sub! Sanji x Dom! Reader Oneshot

The cries Sanji let out under you was like nothing you had ever heard. Sanji was a very prideful man, at least in the presence of others. Right now, he was nothing but a mask of what he is for the public. He’s not Black Legged Sanji right now, right now he’s your slut.

“Y-Y/n-san..~..Please give me more..” Sanji whimpered out in pleasure, holding himself back from throwing his hips upward, making your hungry hole eat his shaft. You were moving so painfully slow... “Please..faster...”

Your hands stayed planted firmly on his chest, your nails carefully digging themselves into his collarbone. “I’ll move when i want to. Mutts don’t get to tell master what to do..” You sighed out in pleasure, feeling your insides hug Sanji’s girth. You smiled at the sight of Sanji’s face glowing a darker shade of red from your words. He was adorable.

“I’ll beg...please, just go faster,” Sanji said, looking up at you, his gaze pleading. He looked so desperate, he was making an expression you had never seen him make before. You couldn’t help but grow more aroused at the sight of such a rare face.

“Okay, beg, then..” You smirked softly, leaning down and kissing Sanji’s cheek. You patiently waited for Sanji to speak up.

“Y/n-san... please use me up. I’m all yours...no other woman will ever hold my heart captive the way you do,” It was odd. Even when engulfed by pleasure, Sanji still managed to be his poetic and romantic self, didnt he?

With those magic words, your hips snapped downward, taking Sanji balls deep inside of you, the tip of his member staying jammed against the depth of your cervix. You couldn’t hold back as you moaned lustfully, tilting your head back in pleasure. The large frame of the bed began to creek as you eagerly rode the chef, your hips bouncing along with your supple breasts. It felt far too good. Being in a position like this with the role you had in this very moment was more then enough to make you orgasm at any moment.

Sanji couldn’t keep his mouth shut, gentle gasps puffing out of his lips, a line of drool dripping down along the corner of his mouth. Why hadn’t Sanji asked you to do this any sooner? It felt amazing, certainly the best sex the two of you have had.

“Y/n, don’t stop...degrade me, please~,” Sanji moaned out, the pleasure in his voice dragging the letters with it. His eyes were shut as he huffed and puffed, trying to stabilize the rapid mewls that flew out of him.

“Don’t order me around.. you aren’t in the position to do that, unless you want to be punished,” You said shakily, voice trembling from the amount of pleasure that dived in and out of your body.

Punished? Oh, now that was a thought Sanji liked. If just verbal torture felt so good, how good would it be to have you be more hands on with it? The thought of you as a domantrix made him more excited. A dark corset looping itself along your waist, paired with matching gloves. And all sorts of lewd tools on your side to make Sanji scream. It sounds like heaven to him.

“Punish me, Y/n-san! Please..be mean,” Sanji begged, grovelling under your body. And so, that’s what you did. You didn’t hesitate to lift your hips off of Sanji’s erection, the tip a deep red as it looked about ready to burst with the amount of cum he had been holding back.

A pout snuck its way into Sanji’s face as his girthy dick twitched in disappointment. This isn’t the punishment he wanted..

“Why’re you pouting? I said i’d be mean,” You smirked slightly, now located in between your lovers legs.

“I didn’t think-,” Sanji’s breath hitched as you squeezed his throbbing dick in between your breasts, the coating of your own wetness and Sanji’s precum already having it lubed further enough.

Sanji stuttered as you began to move your breasts, letting them bounce against his shaft, making up a pleasurable friction against the sensitive appendage. It felt so good, something as minor as this was enough to have Sanji trembling and begging.

He looked down at you with his beautiful pearly blues, tears of overstimulation brimming his eyes. This was beginning to be far too much for him, holding his ejaculation back was impossible at this point, and Sanji made that very apparent. Without a single word from him you let out the magic words, still letting him thrust into your breasts.

“You may cum, Sanji-kun.” You smiles lovingly at the blonde, awaiting his seed to paint your face. Sanji has been waiting all night for you to say those words, that single chain.

In an instant, thick ropes of Sanji’s semen spouted out from his dick, hitting the warmth of your cheeks and making your entire face sticky. Thankfully for you, it only got upon your face, and not your hair.

Sanji looked absolutely blissed out, letting his head hit the pillows as he was laid out entirely. The small breaths that escaped him made you giggle quietly. He was so incredibly cute.

You feel as if you and Sanji learnt a bit more about each other today, and understood your own selves a lot better.

[quixotic-writer]

Sugar Daddy

request: anon

summary: When you first met Q, you had virtually no clue who he was. After a few more pricey dates, he revealed his occupation. Showering you with gifts was his love language, you weren’t about to complain!

warning: smut ahead!

——————————————————————————

The alarm on my phone goes off as it vibrates on my bedside table. My face was mushed into the pillow that my head was resting on, I started coming to and realizing that if I hit snooze once, it would start a cycle until noon and I would be even grumpier and sluggish. I take a deep breath in and grab my phone to turn the alarm off. As I rub my eyes and sit up, I see a text notification and my heart immediately kickstarts. It was from Bri.

B Bear: Hey baby <3 Got work today?

I smile from ear to ear as I see the message. We had been dating for a while now and I was hopelessly in love with him. He was honestly perfect to me in every way. He had a sweet and loving personality, he was super funny and always had this way of making me laugh, he was geeky in the cutest way and loved showing me all his collectibles and telling me all about them, and he was protective and super caring.

The way he shows his love to me is what melts my heart the most. His protective nature got the best of him at a bar we went to together and he ended up throwing his drink in the face of a guy that wouldn’t leave me alone. We got escorted out of the bar and he kept saying sorry that he wasn’t there sooner. Any day I'm sad or in a bit of a mood, he always goes out of his way to make me laugh or smile until I forget what I was even mad about in the first place. Lastly, he constantly showers me with gifts.

Me: Good morning! No work today. Have the day off

I texted him back with a smile as I watched the little thought bubble pop up until his next message came through.

B Bear: Dinner tonight then? Murr has been pestering me endlessly about this restaurant he and Melyssa had gone to and I think it’s about time I see what the fuss is all about

Me: Sounds good!

Just then a notification came in. Brian had sent me money, and it was not at all a small amount.

B Bear: Buy yourself a new dress for tonight then princess. It’s a little more formal wear.

B Bear: I’ll pick you up at 7. Love you

Now, when I first started dating Brian, I had no clue he was on TV or any bit famous at all. When he started treating me to more extravagant gifts and dates, that’s when I asked and he revealed all to me. I felt bad and was always trying to pay for things so he didn’t think I was using him for his money, but he always insisted on paying.

“Princess, we’ve been together for how long? I know you wouldn’t use me. Let me do this for you.” He would always say. After a while, I gave up the fight and just allowed him to treat me. Soon enough I grew a collection of gorgeous jewelry, a whole new wardrobe basically filled with a variety of name brand outfits, and if I so much as mention something I own being broken he is quick to hop on it and pay to have it fixed. At this point, I really do think he is my sugar daddy, and he wasn’t at all opposed to that label. He quite liked it.

Me: You spoil me too much. I’ll see you at 7 then B <3

I throw the covers off of me and make my way to the kitchen to fix myself a bowl of cereal before I get started on my day. What a way to wake up honestly, but I was not at all complaining. I finished up breakfast and got myself cleaned up, gathered up all my things in my purse, and was out the door and headed to the mall to go and treat myself. I often worried that maybe my closet was getting a little too full, I just couldn’t bear to part with any of my outfits. The way Brian made me feel when I wore each one of them made me feel so attached to them too, even if his way of saying I looked good in it was by having it end up on his bedroom floor.

I walked through the mall, doing a little bit of window shopping at first, scoping out the scene and feeling out what I might indulge myself in today as far as fashion went. Sundresses had caught my eye, especially one that was in the window and on display; Flowing, knee length, and white. I passed it by but made sure to take a mental picture of it. As much as I adored having a sort of allowance from Bri, I wasn’t about to abuse it. Besides, that would have been yet another thing I would have to make some kind of room for in my already overstuffed closet.

‘Maybe I could bother him for a bigger closet renovation,’ I joked to myself with a smile. I continue walking through and I see it from a distance: the lingerie store. I subtly bit my lip and was then in a mental tug of war of ‘should I?’ or ‘should I not?’ But as I got closer, the temptation took over and I found myself perusing through their cutest pieces that caught my eye. The least I could do to pay Bri back for the fancy evening, would be to give him a little bit of eye candy and a good time after the meal. Black lace, gorgeous ivory teddies, sensual cherry red garter belts, it was all so nice. After finding a few cute sets, I placed them on hold because I still had a main mission in mind that I came to the mall for in the first place.

I found the perfect dress: A wine red halter top dress. It had a gorgeous waist that hugged a little at my own to give my body some definition and gorgeously flowed down to my knees. I already knew I had the perfect pair of stilettos to go with this to truly complete this boss bitch look I had going. When I returned to the lingerie store, I already knew which set was going to be mine: black lace strapless top with matching high waist garter belt and panties to complete it all.

Me: [img attch.] picked out a cute little something, can’t wait to see you daddy ;P

I had sent him a picture of my dress, nothing more just to keep an element of surprise for the evening. I wasn’t long before I got a response,

B Bear: You look so gorgeous baby

B Bear: Can’t believe someone so beautiful is all mine

Even through text he could get me to blush.

The rest of my day was spent relaxing, catching up on some reading that I had put off for so long, catching up on a few episodes of a series Bess had gotten me sucked into, and just like that, time flew quickly. I was getting myself all dolled up for dinner, butterflies in my stomach because of the excitement I felt and giddy because I had felt so pretty tonight. It wasn’t often where my confidence and self-esteem would sky rocket like this, so I took it in and embraced as much of that energy as I could.

I heard his little knock at the door, the same rhythm as always so I knew it was him. When I swung open the door, he stood there with a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his face. He cleaned up super well as always.

“You. Look. Incredible.” He scooped me into his arms and littered my face with kisses and I giggled as his stubble tickled the skin on my face. When I stopped him, I connected our lips together, “Shall we get rolling then princess?” I nodded and we walked down to his car.

The restaurant was gorgeous to say the least. Dim golden lighting, waiters wearing tuxes, glimmering chandeliers dangling from the ceiling to illuminate the tables. Even the air felt expensive. I tensed while we were sitting at our table and looking through the menu, even though he’s taken me to countless luxurious locations, I still felt this sense of guilt for being there and almost an obligation to monetarily repay him somehow someway. I guess he could sense my tension because his hand had found its way to my wrist, his thumb stroking my skin gently and his eyes spoke volumes.

‘It’s okay.’ was all I could see in them. He never had to say a word and I felt my muscles relax again as we carried out with our meal.

Dinner was more perfect than I could ever imagine. Perhaps I had an untrained palette, but everything felt like an explosion of intense rhythmic flavor in my mouth. I savored each and every bite. I felt more relaxed as the meal went on, especially as Brian and I talked throughout the meal, we would occasionally break the snooty facade to share a laugh at something absolutely crude that would pop into our heads. I swear, because of how loud we were getting, I almost thought we were going to get kicked out… Which made us laugh even harder and get that much closer to that being a reality as other tables would shoot us a nasty high-class glare.

Our meal was settled away as once again Brian got a hold of the check. And once again I didn’t bother fighting and allowed him to treat me knowing in my head that I had much bigger plans for him once we got behind closed doors and had no one around but each other.

The car ride to his place was spent laughing at how disgusted people looked with our behavior.

“Nothing but sticks up their asses!” He said with his accent coming through thickly.

His hand was on my thigh the whole way there. He would snatch occasional glances of me at red lights or when traffic was pretty clear. The rough warmth of his palm was enough to start an inferno on my skin and cause me to bite my lip and shift in my seat.

We got to his place, he took my hand, and led me through the space that has grown so familiar to me.

“As much as I love that dress on you, I want it off as soon as possible.” He whispered in my ear as we made our way through the front door. His lips attached itself to whatever flesh was within reach which made me grow wetter by the second. His hands traced about my body, refamiliarizing himself with each curve, dip, and fold he craved. His hands were never rough, they smoothed over my body carefully, almost as if I was fragile, something delicate, it made me feel protected.

As we were in the bedroom, he was quick to undo the zipper to my dress and allow it to pool at my feet. The way his eyes lit up at what was now revealed to be hidden beneath my dress was a look that always drove me crazy.

“Did a little extra shopping today with the extra money, daddy.” I said as I pushed him to the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes full of hunger and awe.

“I need to give you more money for lingerie. You look so fucking hot.” I straddled his lap, mouths attached and moving with heated passion. His coat fell away as I began tugging at his tie and the buttons on his dress shirt. I could still taste remnants of dinner on his tongue, delectable, indulgent, and I savored it all. My mouth began to move; jawline, neck, chest, stomach. I could smell where he sprayed his cologne, and I stayed where the scent was the strongest, drunk on his scent as my desire for him grew heavier with each breath. His hands held me closer to his bare skin as he let a low hum verberate within his chest. I fell away down between his legs onto my knees. He watches carefully, already out of breath and straining in his pants. I carefully remove his belt, take the zipper down with my teeth, and shed away another layer of clothes. I rub my hand over the cloth of his boxers where his straining erection was prominent, I felt him twitch at my touch and groan.

“Let me pay you back for dinner. How does that sound?” Just like a leaf in fall, the final clothing item was shed away, leaving Brian bare before me. He sat there, arms behind him pushed into the comforter of the bed for support as he eagerly anticipated my next moves, hoping it would be one that would satisfy the lustful desire he had coursing through him.

I kiss at his thighs, leaving a few love marks to show that despite being his, he was also mine. My head and hands find their way below, down to his balls where I carefully massaged them and sucked at the sensitive skin. The groans and moans that Brian was making was enough to tell me that he was enjoying himself. I began moving myself up again, kissing up along his shaft, tracing along veins with a pointed tongue and feeling him pulse beneath me as my hands ran along his thighs that would occasionally tense when I hit just the right spot. When I reached the head, I could see the pre-cum seeping out. I gave his cock a nice pump that sent more spilling out and I was quick to lick it all up.

“Baby, no more teasing. Please.” He begged brushing my hair carefully out of the way. I looked up at him with an innocent sparkle in my eyes,

“But I know you love how it feels daddy.” With a sharp inhale and his lip caught between his teeth, I finally took the first few inches of his cock into my mouth, pulling away while sucking, only to have it pop out of my mouth. I looked up at him and he was gasping for breath and his legs were trembling. I swirled my tongue around the tip of his cock before once more taking him into my mouth, only to repeat this cycle. I just adored hearing his whines, seeing the veins in his arms pop as he gripped the sheets into a tight fist, feeling his thighs tense and squeeze slightly together anytime a shockwave of pleasure was sent through his body.

I decided he endured enough and began carefully taking more and more of him into my mouth, head bobbing in steady rhythm. “Feels… So fucking good.” He breathed out as one of his hands made its way to the back of my head. He never pushed me further than I could go, or at all. His hand just rested on my head as though he was feeling the rhythm and pace of my head bobbing. The taste of pre-cum began getting more and more consistent, the way his legs began to tremble, “Princess, so close.” I could have came myself hearing his throat raw with desperation as he said those three words. I doubled down and took him all in. His cock hit the back of my throat and the tip of my nose hit his naval until his thighs came together and he was spilling down my throat.

My eyes were watering and my nose slightly runny, but it was always rewarding to see him so pleasured all because of me. He pulled me up and his lips were once more attached to my skin, littering the delicate flesh where my neck and my shoulder met with love bites of varying hues.

“Mine,” He would grunt whenever his lips would depart from my skin and then go right back.

He laid me delicately on my back and I felt his cock – still rock hard – resting against my thigh as he kissed my forehead, “Love you,” he says before kissing my lips, “so perfect,” his fingers pushed the panties I wore aside, not even bothering to remove them which honestly made it all so much hotter, “my princess.” He slid into me easily, filling me whole as my eyes rolled back at the sensation, lips parted as humid breath left my lungs.

“Daddy.” I couldn’t let out anymore as my nerves all stood on end as he began to rock his hips steadily into mine.

“You feel so good around my cock. Something so perfect is all mine.” I wrapped my legs around him, beckoning him closer and deeper. The way his cock curved hit all my sensitive spots and it wasn’t long before I was seeing stars, the noises that wanted so badly to break free past my lips but fell stuck within my throat as I was blissed out in pleasure. My muscles tightened around his cock as I experienced pure euphoria, “god you feel even better when you cum all over my cock sweetheart.” his hips continued working and I felt overstimulated, but I absolutely loved it. “Came that hard and I didn’t even have to touch your clit.”

As my body rocked, but boobs started spilling out of the strapless bra. Brian took notice and was quick to crane his neck down and lick around my hardened nipple. He licked, sucked, and lightly bit around the sensitive buds which only added to the extreme pleasure I was experiencing as my body started building up to another orgasm. I held his head in close with a desire to be as close to him as physically possible, aching to feel every inch of his skin, wanting nothing more but for him to feel exactly what I feel: Lustful love.

His hips started working faster and faster and his rhythm was slowly losing any trace of precise tempo. His hand slipped between us, fingers working at my clit and sending me over the edge once again with a cry.

“Princess… Gonna cum again. Where?” He couldn’t even get a full sentence out as he grit his teeth and words were quickly replaced with grunts.

“Cum daddy. Just do it. Wanna make you feel good!” I said as his head was buried in my shoulder, my arms wrapped around his neck bracing for his inevitable climax. With a few more harsh thrusts, he was buried deep within me as I felt warm spurts filling me, my legs holding us close together, intertwined as we pant and catch our breaths.

“I love you so much baby. I love you.” He said with a final kiss and our foreheads pressed together.

Once he had come down from his high, he went and grabbed a towel for me and helped clean me up.

“Thank you for tonight.” I said softly as he held me close in his arms.

“Anything for you princess. You deserve the world.” He kissed the top of my head and brushed my hair out of my face. “You have amazing taste in lingerie also.”

[butchdyketoy]

i’m the type of partner to (horny addition)

-take polaroids of myself in lingerie, full ass naked, and impaling myself with a dildo, and leave them in cute little places like; in your wallet, sticking out of your laptop, tucked into the door, right by the handle for you to find when you go to shower, sticking out of your shoes when you go to work in the morning, tucked under the top of my thigh highs and in the straps of my garters when i turn over after you undress me… and then pull out the polaroid camera for you to make your own, anyway you want me, while you have me pinned down and my cunt stretched around your strap, while i’m gagging on your fingers or your cock, while i’m on my knees in front of you with my head resting on your thigh and your fingers pulling my head and hair back, while i’m leaning back and split open on top of your cock, while you shove your strap inbetween my tits, anything and anyway you want your slut (i have chin length, layered, shaggy, and choppy dark teal hair with messy bangs, full lips, green eyes, a sharp jawline, thin brows, and i’m always wearing too much eyeliner, huge lashes, and my spike nose stud, just in case you don’t have someone and wanted to picture it better in your head <3)

- buy my butch flowers and send them to their work for them, because not enough people buy their butch flowers, and discretely wrap a brand new thong around the stems, one that i’ll wear when i ride them later that night after they came home to find me, waiting naked for them, holding a single flower that belongs to their bouquet

- taking my butch out for a nice dinner, and while we take a train to the restaurant, i’ll pretend to lose my balance and grind my ass into your bulge, while slipping the remote to a… device.. into your pants pocket, and then i’ll walk to a set of open seats in the back reallly slowly just so you can openly stare at my ass in the ever-so-short skirt i just decided to throw on before joining me.

- notice you’re stressing yourself out with homework/work so beg for your help on an essay i just can’t get to click, and then once your sitting in my desk chair, i’ll lean over your shoulder with the essay, only to start lightly kissing your neck and jaw, slowly getting a little rougher, eventually dropping the essay to the floor and swinging around to straddle you, whispering in your ear in between kisses that i’m just so needy as i place your hands to grab my ass… i’ll arch up into it when you move your hands upward, and around to grope my tits, i’ll try and hold back but i’ll let out the sluttiest moan you’ve ever heard when you wrap one hand around my throat and stick your fingers in my mouth, eventually begging for you to fill me with something, anything, your tongue, your fingers, your cock

[hansolmates]

jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation.  pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity  w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write! 

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.” 

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach. 

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs. 

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy. 

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache. 

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud. 

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long? 

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?” 

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly. 

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong. 

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon. 

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook. 

You scream. 

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—” 

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!” 

“Well… is he at least cute?” 

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!” 

“Tasteful nudes.” 

“I’m gonna die.” 

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates. 

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM. 

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?” 

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.” 

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot. 

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram. 

Of course, he’s stupid hot. 

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well. 

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more. 

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league. 

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on. 

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen. 

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen. 

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?” 

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot. 

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?” 

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.” 

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!” 

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.” 

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?” 

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance. 

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing. 

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.” 

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures. 

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.” 

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something. 

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie. 

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.” 

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.” 

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy. 

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really. 

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing. 

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” 

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.” 

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment. 

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film. 

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic. 

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?” 

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.” 

“You think right.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair. 

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?” 

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.” 

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier. 

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot. 

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud. 

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes. 

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container. 

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display. 

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”  

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.” 

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation. 

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.” 

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking. 

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.” 

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.” 

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.” 

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize. 

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.” 

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.” 

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?” 

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.” 

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.” 

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you. 

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down. 

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks. 

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts. 

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed. 

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ??? 

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird. 

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture. 

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today. 

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.” 

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.” 

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.” 

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?” 

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.” 

You choke on your saliva. 

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?” 

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?” 

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!” 

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.” 

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.” 

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off. 

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?” 

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?” 

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.” 

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.” 

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens. 

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists. 

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger. 

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine. 

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.” 

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.” 

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?” 

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.” 

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag. 

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio. 

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony. 

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him. 

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.” 

“It was.” 

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table. 

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.” 

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.” 

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity. 

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die. 

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more. 

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them. 

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.” 

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists. 

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset. 

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself. 

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.” 

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.” 

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink. 

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set. 

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.” 

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.” 

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?” 

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?” 

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?” 

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.” 

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself. 

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.” 

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.” 

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.” 

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home. 

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead. 

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade. 

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?” 

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this. 

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.” 

[fandom-puff]

hi hi. i’m not sure if you would write for narcissa but if Yes. could you do a smut alphabet or a little smut fic. anything really. i just. dom milf narcissa lives rent free in my mind 💔

Anon, she lives rent-free in my mind too <3 also I’ve never written for Narcissa before, so hopefully this is okay :)

Narcissa Malfoy Smut Alphabet

warnings: smuttt

gif creds to owner

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

She’ll coo and smirk and tell you how good you were for her, such a good little pet. She’ll kiss over any marks she left and get you water- and you’d better bloody drink it. 

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

She likes her breasts- you always know exactly what to do, and she adores looking down and stroking your hair as you suck on her nipples with your eyes all wide and innocent.

On you, your waist is her favourite. Even outside of the bedroom, she’ll constantly be touching your waist or the small of your back. Inside the bedroom, she loves bending you over and gripping onto it from behind, and you often have little crescent-shaped marks left on your skin from her digging her nails into you.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

She absolutely loves the sight of you with her release glistening on your chin, and she loves kissing you and tasting herself on your lips.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Narcissa loves teasing you with toys, making you sit through dinner with a vibrator buzzing away inside you, smirking at you as your thighs quiver and you press your lips together, trying to keep your orgasm at bay. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Narcissa knows what she’s doing. She knows what she likes, and she is very quick at picking up on what makes your knees weak. 

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

She LOVES taking you from behind- she is a force to be reckoned with when she’s wearing her strap

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Narcissa tends to be very serious in the moment, very into it, although she is open to having a bit of a laugh with you.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

 I reckon Narcissa isn’t completely bare? Idk I just get that sense. Neatly trimmed but slightly sparse idk 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

Narcissa can get very intimate when you make love, kissing you all over, whispering words of love to you all the time...

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

She doesn’t do it very often, priding herself on her control. She loves catching you trying to get yourself off, mocking you gently and making you all flustered

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

bondage, overstimulation, dom/sub, toys, caregiving, roleplay, spanking, biting...

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Her bedroom. Yes, its a little bit plain, but it ensures privacy- plus you often need a good lie down afterwards ;)

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

watching you be defiant. It really gets her going, and she loves grabbing your cheeks in one hand and squishing them together, making you stare at her, hissing ‘who do you think you’re talking to?’ 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Narcissa doesn’t like to get overly messy. Yeah, she’s up for a bit of food play, but anything beyond that is a no-no for her

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

See ‘C’ 

She loves giving as well, often overstimulating you until you’re trying to shut your legs or push her away 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It all depends on the mood really. Sometimes it can be very slow and sensual, other times (especially when you need putting in your place) she can be very rough

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

She isn’t a big fan, and would rather just have ‘proper’ sex, wanting to make you come multiple times

That being said, if the opportunity arises, she will most certainly grab it. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Yep. If you’re trying something new, she’ll constantly ask to make sure you’re doing okay, that it feels good. if it just isn’t working, she’ll happily switch to something a little more familiar

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Ohoooo this woman can LAST. She’ll have you coming over and over again, and can manage a fair few orgasms herself before she starts getting worn out. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

See ‘D’

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Narcissa loves to tease you. Hence why she prefers to have proper sex rather than a quickie- she just loves to make you wait. 

“Don’t pout at me, darling, or I’ll only make you wait longer,”

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

She can be particularly noisy, gasping and moaning and praising you, making sure you know how good you make her feel. Her sounds get a little more high pitched when she comes

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

She loves giving you pet names. Some of her favourites include pet, sweetheart, darling, little one... 

And she isn’t above calling you a slut either ;)

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Narcissa is willowy, with gently curving hips and soft thighs. She often wears lace too, and always stockings held up by a garter belt. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

I’d say it’s pretty average? If she’s horny, it can be a while before she actually fulfils her desires, preferring to get you sufficiently riled up. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

She doesn't, unless you do it late at night, or when you're both drunk. Instead, she’ll sit up with you, cuddling and chatting. 

Tags: @a-hopeless-fan @lotsoffandomrecs @rai-strangebr @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @dumbfuckinslytherin @severuslovebot @darkthought15 @rabeccablake @sambucky8 @eleven-times-lively @talksoprettyjjx   @rangerelik @wonderwoman292 @lilymurphy03 @fredweasleyisntdead @fredswh0re @rogertaylorismycar @meaganjm @fanficwriter5 @shadesofbarryallen @kiwi-sloan @bbeauttyybbx @inglourious-imagines @bonniesgoldengirl @trumpsgorillagrip @blisshemmings @little-bit-of-randomness @vsarzx @eunoia-kth @liliputbahn @thestunningspell  @beiahadid @courtnytrash04 @ccosmic-illusion  @marshxx @hogwartslut @thatslovelymoony @winchestergirl333 @sterwild

[rayofsunas]

s/o wears a skirt with thigh garters/thigh highs in front of them for the first time.

A/n: this was requested by a lovely anon <3 thank you love. also if this feels a bit off in writing style, its because I kept coming back to this and adding. I can’t help but think Osamu is out of character because I don’t know his character well at all.

Summary: s/o wears a skirt with thigh garters/thigh highs in front of them for the first time

Pairings: Osamu Miya, Akaashi Keiji, Kuroo Tetsurou

Warnings: nsfw themes, swearing, aged up (for one), spoilers (Osamu’s)

Word count: 1.1k

Miya Osamu 

When you showed up at Ongiri Miya’s, you expected to show your fiancé your new style choice today, but instead found him and his twin arguing somewhere in the back of the shop. 

“Sure, you’re my brother, but you can’t just come here whenever you please, take my food and make a mess while doing so.” Your boyfriend snapped frustratedly. 

“I’m hungry, I need food ya know, I’m a grown man.” You could hear Atsumu tease. Poor Osamu, you thought, sliding your jacket off and folding it neatly over your arm. His brother was a handful, but what sibling wasn’t?

“Osamu? Where are you?” At the sound of your voice cutting through their arguing, they silenced. “In the kitchen.” Shuffling could be heard, a loud slap, and then grumbling before Atsumu greeted you, gliding out of the kitchen with a heavy smirk plastered on his face. 

“Where’s your brother?” You asked. He nodded his head behind him, “Cleaning up the mess in the back.”

“That you made.” You corrected. He just laughed. “Of course I did. He wouldn’t feed me.” 

“You stopped paying.” Came your lover's voice louder and more clearly. He had come out from the kitchen, wearing a no longer white apron around his hips. 

The older twin grumbled in annoyance. “Seriously, money-hungry bastard.”

Maybe if he got what he wanted and out of his brother's hair, the youngest would look like he wasn’t nearly losing all his hair from stress, so you brought the attention back to you and said, “I’ll pay for your lunch today, stop making messes though, okay?” You scolded as if you were his mother. 

“Ya, deal, I get to pick though.” Your eye twitched. He would probably pick the most expensive thing on the menu, just to irritate. “Okay.” 

Atsumu was faster at grabbing his lunch than you originally thought, and was out the door just as fast. You assumed he was running late. He had practice on Tuesday’s.

Before he’d left he loudly thanked you for buying his lunch. “See ya later. Nice whatever those things are.” He pointed at your exposed legs, before exiting the building.

You smiled and waved him out the door, muttering to yourself. “At least someone noticed.” 

Your lover heard you and decided to make his opinions loud and known for once. 

“I saw before he did, just didn’t say anything because it would sound very lewd, and my idiot brother did not need to hear that.”

“So then, I take it you like them.” You asked watching with a flirtation gaze as your fiance approached. 

“Of course I do. You look sexy.” 

“Maybe I should wear them more often.” You teased. “I only wanted to try out a new style. I quite like them too though.” 

“Mhm.” He nodded, eyeing you up. 

“You look flushed. Do you need me to take care of that little problem in your pants?” He flushed even more at your comment.

“You should’ve waited ‘till I got home, so I could do what I really wanted.”

Akaashi Keiji

Your head whipped around so fast if you had done it any rougher, you feared it would fly off. The force had definitely given you whiplash, but you ignored it and kept your eyes trained on your boyfriend.

“Keiji! Did you just-”

Never in the two years of dating had you EVER heard him swear. He was always polite, a true sweetheart inside and out, and the filthiest curses kept slipping from his mouth when he looked at you. 

“Did the ever so respective Akaashi Keiji, swear!” His eyes rolled, though the blush remained on his cheeks.

You had gotten a new outfit recently, and usually never wore thigh highs ever, but due to the chilly in coming months, you thought it would be nicer to have a little more warmth than just the simple socks you typically wore. The thigh highs were also cute paired with your school uniform. 

“Are you gonna wear them more often?” The setter asked, earning a laugh from you. 

You only wanted to go get dinner after his practice and had come to walk with him to the restaurant. You didn’t expect your usually featureless boyfriend to look so flustered and lovestruck in public, nonetheless in front of his teammates. 

“Depends. Do you like them?” You asked teasingly stretching your legs out to show him more of the thigh highs.

“I’m taking that as a yes.” He said.

“Of course,” You nodded. “I only have one pair. And I can’t wear them every day so-”

“Let's go shopping instead of dinner.”

You were lost for words. “You want to go shopping?” 

“That’s what I said.”

“You always look so bored shopping with me, but you never ask first...”

He shrugged. “I like your leggings.”

“They aren’t leggings, Keiji.” Your tongue clicked teasingly. 

“I think a shopping trip is due, maybe even a trip to the lingerie store, hmm?”

He gulped. 

Kuroo Tetsurou

The skirt was tight, you were wearing thigh highs with the garters, and you were late for class. Perfect. Now, all of your boyfriend's attention would be on you. You wouldn’t feel bad for him, you hadn’t hooked up in what felt like months due to him being busy with volleyball and such, so you were a bit frustrated. 

He’d expressed many times that he thought you were the hottest person on earth, especially when you showed off your legs. So you knew this would rally him up. 

“Sorry I’m late, sir. I woke up late.” You muttered innocently stepping into class, brushing your hand against Kuroo’s, before taking a seat at your desk.

Your English teacher just glared at you. “This is the second time this week, Ms. L/n. Please stop making it a habit or else I’ll give you more detention.”

“Sorry sir, understood.” Your eyes rolled. 

The lecture began again after the teacher fixed the attendance book and you once again fell into boredom. So far, Kuroo looked content. He’d stopped giving you the look after realizing the class wasn’t even close to ending, seeing as though he did not want to sit frustrated for another hour. 

But now and then, you found him looking away from the lesson and eyeing your legs. He just couldn’t help himself, you looked so good.

Your phone quietly vibrated, demanding your immediate attention. 

Rooster: baby girl, what’re you wearing.

You grinned to yourself. 

Sweetheart: clothes. is that a problem, tetsu?

Rooster: yes, the very first.

Rooster: I thought I told you last time to stop wearing that in public if you don’t want me to tear it up...

Sweetheart: I forgot.

Rooster: liar. last time the whole class saw my boner when you wore that.

Sweetheart: where is the lie? also, stop being a horn dog and getting boners.

Rooster: that’s not how it works, sweetheart.

Sweetheart: sorry not sorry, you deserve it ;)

Rooster: we’ll see who deserves what after class. though you’ll probably take any punishment I throw at you, naughty girl.

12.9.20, rayofsunas

[ppersonna]

pick your filter - pjm | m

mix the colors in the palette, pick your filter. which me do you want? the one to change your world, i'm your filter - filter, bts

↳ summary- You love turning Jimin on, and you’re desperate to make him punish you for it.  Jimin loves punishing you while you listen to his music.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 5.1k

↳ pairing- jimin x reader

↳ genre- smut, this is literally just smut, there’s 1% plot and it’s pornographic too, there’s some fluff at the end but i repeat it is still smut. there is no god in this chili’s tonight

↳ warnings- buckle up pals.  established relationship, explicit descriptions of sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), BDSM themes, spanking, belt usage, dirty talk, derogatory names, pain kink, daddy kink, face-fucking lol, unprotected sex, slight impregnation kink but like not really they just wanna have a baby together and talk about it lol, jimin is filthy and i cannot portray him as anything but filthy but then he has like cute babie syndrome at the end.

↳ a/n- hi i feel maybe 1% shame in how fast i wrote this but whatever.  thank you to @carly-bean-blog for sending the prompt in!  i loved it and went from a planned drabble to 5k words lolol.  one day i’ll be less verbose 🥴🥴 plus enjoy and feel free to send in more requests or just a message to say hi bc as you can see i love talking. also RIP to the wine glass i broke while writing this fic because i hit my table to hard.  wine glass 2020-2020

Turning Park Jimin on was a delicious challenge for you.

When you first began dating, all it took was a ‘come over’ text, and he’d be there in 5 minutes flat regardless of the fact that he lived 15 minutes away.

Now, a few years and a marriage under your belt, it took a bit more.

That’s not to say he wasn’t the same insatiable man you met at university; even after all these years Jimin could easily go 3 or more rounds a night.

But really getting him riled up, getting him hard and wanting and desperate for you was another thing.  Sometimes, you just wanted him to come home and take you right against the kitchen counter, so turned on he couldn’t even make it to the bedroom.

You’re determined to win that challenge today.  

To be truthful, the day was terrible for you, and you were seeking release in the form of your husband dicking you down until you were speaking another language. You were desperate to let loose, push aside the emotional and tender sex that seemed to be more commonplace in the bedroom recently (and you enjoyed equally) but today you needed to be treated like an absolute harlot.

The idea rolled through your mind while you were busying yourself with housework, laundry and dishes.  Options of how to get your husband to take you on the floor, rip your clothes off, make you beg for more, simmered in your mind and made the low flame in your stomach burn.  Lingerie could do the trick, Jimin definitely liked to see you swathed in delicate lace or creamy satin.  You had a nice deep red set that was dying to be used and discarded on the floor.

It came to you as you set your speaker to play some music as you flicked around the house.  Jimin’s sweet voice filled the rooms, causing you to pause as shivers raked your spine.

His music.  There was always something Jimin loved about having his music on in the background of your sex that made him work harder on you, fuck you deeper.  Maybe it was narcissism at its finest, but who were you to complain if it benefitted both of you.

You discarded all thoughts of cleaning the rest of the house as you stalked towards your bedroom closet, gathering the red bustier and panty set, with matching garter belt and stocking clips.  You purchased it rather spur of the moment, a huge sale at your favorite boutique, and you wanted to save it for something special.

It appeared the special moment was now.

You took care to curl your hair, a gentle wave with not too much product.  Jimin loved to tug his fingers through your locks, and grip them in a ponytail as you sucked his cock.  Any product would unfortunately get in the way.  Makeup was minimal, a dash highlight on your cheeks and inner tear ducts, light pink lip stain on your lips.  Jimin had been the test subject of many a lipstick, as you determined to find the most blowjob-proof one.  Needless to say, none of the lipsticks were 100% solid, but it was the best time Jimin ever had as a test subject. You preferred to stick with the stains, easier cleanup for the both of you.

You complete the visual as you swap your grubby cleaning day clothes for blood red lace lingerie, smirking at yourself in the mirror.  The cups of the bra molded against you, encasing your tits perfectly.  Jimin would surely lose his mind.  The panties were simple lace, and you had the inkling that they would not remain intact tonight.   Jimin’s propensity for literally ripping your knickers right off you was legendary.  But that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?  You wanted your husband to be absolutely feral for you.

Step two of your plan was now underway as you slipped onto your bed, perfectly made now, and snapped sultry photos.  You ensured your cleavage and smooth legs were in the shot, a finger on the mouth.  You took a few more, exposing more and more of your body.

me 2:56 pm- hi babe what you up to?

mini 2:56 pm- baby!!!! Not much, just waiting for hobi to get back from lunch so we can practice this new choreo.  

Mini 2:57 pm- what about you? besides being the world’s cutest wife :)

Me: 2:57 pm- oh not too much. I did our laundry and cleaned up the house a little.  Now im just relaxing and missing my babe :(

Mini 2:57 pm- baby :( i’m sorry.  I should be home in a few hours okay! I’ll order in pasta from your favorite place to make up for it

Me 2:58 pm- well, i was sort of hoping you could make up for it but… i don’t want pasta

Mini 2:58 pm- you don’t? What do you want? Pizza?

Me 2:58 pm- [picture attached]

Me 2:58 pm- no, I want you to fuck me until I can’t see straight.

Mini 2:59 pm- oh fuck 

Mini 2:59 pm- baby you’re playing a dangerous game, teasing me like this.

You nearly had him, he was sniffing at the bait and soon he’d bite and you’d reel him in.  You sent the next picture, showcasing your tits with one cup pulled down, nipple on display.

me 3:00 pm- you mean this kind of game?

mini 3:00 pm- christ

mini 3:00 pm- fuck babe, you’re gonna make me pop a boner at dance practice.  You know I can’t come home for a few hours.

me 3:00 pm- hobi still gone?  Go to the bathroom and i’ll send you a video.

mini 3:01 pm- holy fuck asdskadj okay

Time for the pièce de résistance.  Ensuring the speakers blasted ‘Serendipity’, your husband’s full length solo, you clicked the record button and filmed your hand sliding down to your clothed core, rubbing over the mound with a rough hand.  You breathed heavily, sighed, mewled a bit.  

“Daddy,” you gasp. “Come home.”

You end it with a hand sneaking under the band and insertion of one finger.  Leave him not just wanting more, but rabid for it.  The video file is sent before you've even pulled your fingers from their spot resting on your clit.

Minutes passed, you were sure he was watching.  The man lived for your exhibitionism.  

mini 3:06 pm- you better have your hands behind your back and be on your knees when i get home, little one. In the middle of the bedroom floor. 

mini 3:06 pm- i want you to listen to the music and think about me fucking you.  Think about how i destroy your little cunt so good.

mini 3:07 pm- but don’t you dare touch yourself.  Your pussy is only mine to play with, you got that?

me 3:07 pm- yes daddy 

mini 3:07 pm- good.  I’ll be home soon.

Congratulations, you smirk to yourself in the mirror's reflection across from you.  You’ve won the grand prize.  Please make sure you collect your prize from the man with the raging boner.

You idly realize that Jimin hasn’t told you when he’ll be home.  You know that on any normal day he’d be home at 5:30.  But was he leaving early?  Could you chance it?  As much as you wanted to disobey and face his delicious punishment, he also could just as easily punish you by not letting you cum at all. And the chances of that type of discipline tonight was high; Jimin would surely make you pay for teasing him at work by exacting torturous ache the same to you.

You’re spinning the pros and cons of preparing yourself now or later, when you are given your hasty answer by the sound of keys jingling in the front door.  Your heart rate spikes dangerously, feeling like the muscle would force the blood out of your veins with the pressure.  

You squirm off the bed and descend to the floor on your knees, resting back on your heels, and holding your hands behind your back.  You lower your head to the floor, knowing Jimin loves it when you avoid eye contact until he tells you when and where to look.  

His footsteps are heavy, slow and torturous because you know that he knows that you’ll be on the very edge of your sanity.  The warmth in your belly is torched with tinder and starter and is flaring high.  Jimin’s simple presence, just like this, is enough to get you to an incredible high.  Nothing brings you to your knees faster than when he turns from your sweet, adorable and gentle husband into the sadistic and powerful dominating owner of your body and soul.

It takes 5 deep breaths from your belly before you hear Jimin enter the bedroom.  He’s not saying a single word, but you can hear his soft footsteps on the hardwood floor.  Your knees are aching at the pressure of the hard floor, but you ignore it. You’d ignore cauterizing wounds for the man hovering above you if he asked. 

You’re trembling, you notice.  Your thighs are quivering ever so slightly and the grasp on your hands behind you is weakening.  You grip harder, determined to maintain perfect correct form.

Jimin is frustratingly silent.  He walks around you, and you feel his eyes rove your body intently, as if looking for fault or reason to punish you.  He seems pleased when he finishes his rounds, standing right in front of you. 

“Look at me,” he states with authority, but his tone is gentle. 

You finally tilt your head up to gaze at your lover and nearly gasp at the sight.  Jimin is, on an average day, the most ethereally beautiful man you’ve ever seen.  Today, he looks as if he descended from heaven mere minutes previous.  His pink hair is pushed back, eyes darkened with desire, and wearing the tightest shirt you’ve ever seen, making his toned dancer’s body ripple under the cotton.  Tight sweats that leave nothing to the imagination about what he’s packing between his thighs sit low on his hips and you spot just a hint of his lower abdomen, the v line of his adonis belt, and you’re sure you’re drooling.

“Look at me,” he corrects, a smirk on his face.  Your eyes snap to his own again, and he winks at you. 

“Have you been a good girl for daddy?” He asks, and it feels like a loaded question.  

You play it coy.  “Yes, daddy.”

He stands still in front of you, hand stroking his face as he watches you.  His eyebrow arches.

“Are you sure? You have done nothing to upset Daddy? Nothing at all?” His voice becomes teasing, and the smirk on his features is sinister.

You bite your lip. “I sent Daddy a video of me, touching myself to his music.”

“That’s right, angel,” he murmurs and circles you again.  You feel like his prey before he comes in for the kill. “You made daddy leave practice early.  Don’t you think that’s not being a good girl?”

“No, I did wrong.”

“I’m glad you agree,” he murmurs.  “I’m gonna make you regret getting Daddy hard and horny at work.”

He places his hands on your shoulders and you shiver.  His hands are smooth, warm.  You love the way you feel the cold steel of his wedding ring pressed to your skin, a tangible expression of his love and loyalty.

“Stand up,” he directs.  You’re quick, thankful to be off stinging knees.  He lets his hands glide down your back to meet at your clasped hands, pulling them apart and turning you to face him.

He threads his fingers through your hair and pulls you close, sealing your lips to his.  His lips are soft and taste of chapstick, a hint of sweat, and something just so simply Jimin that is addictive.  He’s gentle and tender in the kiss, the kind of kiss a husband gives his wife.  It speaks miles beyond the simple action, and you chase it, revel in it, knowing it’s the last time he’ll be gentle tonight.  

He breaks from the kiss, touches your nose gently and winks.  It makes your heart flutter in your chest.

The control seeps back into his face; it's physically present in the tight gaze of his eyes and the coolness of his impassive features.  It’s a stark opposite of who just kissed you, and you’re breathless at the sudden change.  

“Gonna spank you with my belt, baby,” he murmurs.  A hand slaps hard against your ass, surprising you and making you squeak out loud.  “Lean over my desk like a good little slut.”

You obey immediately, jerking your body towards his grand oak desk. It’s gorgeous dark wood that matches the decor of your room perfectly and makes for a delicious spot for your sexual proclivities without being obvious.  As much as Jimin wanted a sex swing, you would not cave to that.

You bend to fold your body over the desk, gripping the edge and pushing your hips back to allow for more access to your husband.  The speaker system by your bed plays music, and you recognize the opening chords as one from his latest album with his six best friends. A smile slips to your face as the volume turns up, quiet enough you can talk, but loud enough it’s noticeable. His smooth, melodic voice is ringing through your bedroom and through your entire body. 

He stalks in behind you and rubs at your soft globes.

“Mmm, you look so pretty in this,” he compliments.  “You know I love seeing you in red.”

You turn your head to gaze at him, smiling.  “That’s why I bought it, Daddy.”

“Good little bitch,” he sighs.  

As expected, he rips the underwear from your body with one clean pull.  You’re always surprised by the action. He never gives warning.  Your eyes follow as the useless fabric soars towards the ground. 

“Much better.”

He moves away from you, walking towards the closet.  You train your eyes forward, keeping locked on the wall ahead of you, rather than staring.  Jimin tells you when and where to look and you follow that.

The gentle clinking noise of a belt buckle causes your pussy to quake.  You’ve been slowly moistening since you sent the first text, but you were now starting to drip as if you were overflowing.  By the end of the night, you’ll be drowning in it.

He’s behind you again as quick as he left and he rubs the leather belt against your bare behind. 

“What’s your word?” He asks, soothing at the skin with the device that will soon maar it.  Jimin is ever careful, checking on your mental and emotional safety as well as your physical, and ensured a safe word was in place each time.

“Red,” you assert.  He hums his approval and kisses your ass once, one quick little peck, before he lifts back up to standing.

“Count for me, little whore.”

The crack of the belt spanking your cheek electrifies you.  You feel as if every muscle in your body clenches as the sting vibrates through your buttocks and down to your core.  

“O-one!” You’re shouting, distracted by the pain in your ass to care about your pitch.

Crack. The next slap lands on the other cheek now, and you hiss at the pain.  It bites at your skin, and it soaks your pussy. 

“Two!”

He delivers the next straight in the center, hitting both cheeks and letting the sizzle melt its way to a pleasure that’s reverberating through your core.

“Three! Fuck!” you gasp. 

SMACK.  It’s the hardest yet and tears well up in your eyes at the initial whollop, before your hips are writhing and desperate for friction.

“Four!” You’re wailing and you know it makes your husband go even wilder.

“Stay still or I won’t let you cum for a month,” he grits.  Your hips stay put, knowing he’s a man of his word and not wanting to face his wrath.

He continues his barrage, and you’re counting out 15 strikes before he stops.  You’re sobbing, the pain and pleasure surging so forcefully through your veins that your cunt clenches around nothing and you’re dripping onto the wood of the desk.

His warm hands are soothing at the reddened flesh of your ass, the sensation stinging at first, but oozes away to a relaxing warmth against the punished skin.

“Good girl, baby,” he commends you, hands rubbing all over your flesh. “Took your punishment like such a good girl.”

You sniffle in reply and he pulls you up, making you stand on wobbly legs.  He twists you around and pecks your lips again, a reminder that Jimin, your husband, is still there and loves you more than he loves life itself.  It soothes you more than any salve could and it steels your resolve to continue.  It’s easy to submit and thrill at the loss of control when you trusted the master with your entire being.  

“Color?” He asks, checking in with you.

“Green,” you smile. 

He’s pleased with your answer.  He pulls away from you and pushes you towards the bed.

“Lay down on your back.  Head off the side.  I’m going to fuck your throat, and you will take it all.”

You’re giddy as you saunter to the bed and notice that Jimin is proud of the blooming red of your ass.  It’ll be a literal pain in the ass to sit tomorrow, but it’s worth all the doting and affection you’ll receive in return for being such a good girl for him.  The music has changed, another sensual track featuring your talented husband.  It sends shivers down you, straight to your core.

You maneuver your body to lie on the bed, grateful for the soft blanket on your burning ass, and tip your head off the bed.  Your mouth opens complacently and Jimin shoves his sweats down to reveal his hardened length.

You’re licking your lips like his dick is the finest meal money can buy, and he chuckles.  His left hand strokes it, shivering at the cold press of his wedding ring mixing with the heat of his hand. 

“You want my cock?” He asks.

You nod, captivated with the motion he strokes the shaft.  You almost forget to speak, but his harsh gaze is like a whip.

“Yes! Yes, I want your cock Daddy!”

“Tell me what you want to do to me,” he hums.

Well, this would be too easy.

“I want to suck you dry, let you fuck my throat so I can’t breathe.  I’ll let you cum down my throat and make my face so messy from cum and spit that it gets in my eyes and messes up my pretty makeup, daddy.”

His strokes have become faster, and he sucks in hard for air. “Such a filthy fucking mouth.”

You open said mouth again, letting your tongue hang out like a welcome sign to your throat.

He growls, it’s guttural, and it feels as if it’s positioned on your clit, vibrating the nub.  Your bliss is cut short as he drives his thick dick into your mouth and directly to the back of your throat, leaving you no time to prepare.  You whine slightly around it, and he tsks.

“Don’t you fucking dare whine.  Take it all,” he sounds ruthless and your pussy quakes.

He sets a punishing pace, the tip of his dick ramming through your throat.  It doesn’t take long for it to become messy, saliva trickling from your mouth, falling towards your eyes due to the angle of your supine head.  Jimin sounds angelic, the moans that leave the dancer’s body should be recorded and played for an audience, you think.  You’d suffer through hours of this for the reward of his sweet voice crying out your name.

“Fuck, my little cock slut loves it when I fuck her throat, hmm,” he asks, breathy and harsh.  You nod as much as you can.

“Yeah, that’s right.  You love daddy’s cock, don’t you? You love it when I fucking choke the shit out of you with my fat cock, huh?”

The voice of an angel with the words of the devil himself.  The duality is intoxicating and you are head over heels for both Jimin’s inside of him, every aspect of the man you pledged your life to.

“Mmm, you suck me so good,” he’s groping at your tits through the fabric of your bra.  You’re surprised that it’s still on, but you trust he’s aware and always has a plan.  

“Are you crying, baby?” He asks mockingly.  Tears and saliva mix and your face is completely ruined by it.  You nod again and blink.  “Good, fucking choke on it.” he goes even faster and you’re moaning.  It hurts and the gag reflex is there, but the pain gets you off, and you know the second it became too much, your husband would stop in an instant.  

“Little sluts get their face fucked when they disobey daddy,” he chides, emphasising each word with a thrust.  

It’s as if you’re desperate for his orgasm, wanting nothing more than to swallow every ounce of what he spills into you, clean him up and ask for more.  He won’t have that tonight, it seems, as he’s pulling out of you as quickly as he entered.

“I want to cum in this tight little cunt,” he bites.  You slither up from your position and wipe at your eyes, resting against the pillow after he orders you to remove the bustier.  He asks that you leave the belt and stockings on, however. 

“Spread those pretty thighs for me, baby,” he’s discarded his shirt and is sitting ahead of you, watching you.  His gaze turns you on and opens you up like a flower.

Your thighs are spread far and you lean back further onto the pillows to put the star of the show on display.  You’re coated with your slick; it’s slathered up and down your thighs and dripping onto the duvet below you.  He breathes out in appreciation.

“I think my favorite thing about you is how fucking wet you get for me.”  He’s still not moving and you want to beg him to touch you, please do something, but refrain.  “You feel like a fucking dream when I’m inside you.”

“B-baby,” you break character and freeze, but he ignores it and allows you to continue as you sigh with relief. “I need you.”

“Do you now?” he banters, and you nod with wide, needy eyes.

“Touch yourself for me, then.  Show me how badly you want daddy’s cock in you.”

A hand flies to your cunt in record time and you’re desperately eager to spread the lips of your folds apart and rub at your slick and swollen clit.  A breathy, heady moan escapes you at the friction you’ve been aching for since you sent the sexy photo hours ago. 

“Fuck!” you shout, circling the bud.  Jimin’s eyes are glued to your hands, and he watches with awe. 

“Finger yourself,” he demands and you’re obeying before he’s even finished speaking, two fingers slipping down to enter your channel.  You arch off the bed and grip a breast in your other hand, flicking at the nipple for extra sensation.  

He coos at you as you fuck yourself with wild abandon, gasping his name as you slip deeper with each thrust.  

“Add another.”  His voice maintains its even quality, maintained and cool.  But if you opened your eyes, you’d see that he’s salivating at the sight, desperately restraining himself.  His cock is weeping pre-cum and he could explode in an instant watching this too long.

Your ring finger slips in with the other two and you’re keening at the stretch.  The pain is gone in a flash, just a pinch that simmers to a desperate pleasure.  

“You look so fucking good, baby,” he breaks his composure, momentarily.  He’s so in love with you, every single fucking bit, that he can’t help it.  “God, you’re beautiful.”

His words have you blushing, as if they’re the most lewd part of the evening and not the fact you’re fingering yourself in front of your husband while he watches and orders you around.

“Rub your clit with your other hand, love.”

The pressure of your added hand on your clit and the fingers thrusting into you has you soaring to your high and your throat chokes on the air.  “O-oohhh fuckkk!” You whine.

“You close, baby?  You gonna cum on those cute little fingers and get them messy for daddy?” He asks, voice violently serene.

“Y-yes! Please, I want to cum,” you beg.  You know the rules, he tells you where and when your body receives its pleasure.

“You wanna cum?” He asks again, and you feel a spike of irritation.  He’s already asked you that, haven’t you already answered?

“So badly, daddy! Please! C-close.” Words are escaping your mental capacity now.  You’re there, nearly there, just one little tiny string holding you back from the edge of euphoria.

“Too bad.”  

Your fingers are pulled from your cunt quickly and you’re crying.  Tears are forming in your eyes as you feel an ache deep to your womb.  You had been so close, so deliciously close.  Jimin knows this, thrills at watching you edge further and further through the night.  You won’t admit it at the moment, it’s pure torture then, but the buildup to the finale is indescribable.

“You don’t get to fucking cum until I tell you to cum.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes, yes! Yes, Daddy,” you babble, nearly incoherent from arousal and denial. 

He makes you writhe there, pussy so slick its soaking the blankets and you’ll have to change them later but the only thing you think about is your cunt, your weeping cunt that’s screaming to release. 

You feel your breath slowing and know that Jimin wants you to come back down to earth before he’ll bring you up again.

“Good fucking girl,” he kisses your belly, licking at the navel.  He whispers quiet words of adoration as he trails down your abdomen and end at the top of your mound.  Your legs are shaking, no, they’re nearly convulsing from need.

He spreads your folds, and it’s pornographic the way he spits on your pussy, as if it needs any more wetness.  It’s not about the wetness, though, and you know it.  It’s about the message, the ownership.  

“My favorite little fuck toy,” he murmurs, lightly tracing everywhere but the bud throbbing with need for friction.  “I can’t wait to cum inside this little pussy tonight.  Gonna flood your whole fucking cunt, babe.”

Jimin knows the way to your heart, and the way to your orgasms is through his words.  Gentle whispered ‘i love you’s’ in the day and disgusting filth at night.  It’s just another reason in a list of a million why you work so well together. 

“Should we get you nice and pregnant tonight?  You want to make a baby?”  

You nearly sob at his words.  He can fuck you harder with his words than his cock.

“Please!” You’re yelling, tears streaming down your face. “P-please! I want your baby.”

He leans down and smiles for a moment before speaking. “Well, my little wife will always get what she wants when she asks so nicely.”  His lips attach to your clit, suctioning it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.  It’s swollen and slick, and it feels like fucking heaven.  His plushy lips are working for it, taking you so desperately close to the edge.  

You’re gasping a symposium of his name and praising the ground he walks on.  You’re sure if you died now you’d die a very fucking happy woman.  The world around you is gone, and it’s just Jimin’s sinful mouth suckling at your cunt.

You’re close again, and Jimin knows it.  You’re begging, pleading with him, but it’s useless as he roughly pulls away.

The music continues on in the background.  It’s lighter, and Jimin croons in the speaker as he grunts in your ear.

He muffles your anguished cry with a messy kiss that tastes of you, and he’s thrusting into you.  The slickness guides him in easily and he’s whining against you at the feel of your walls accept him and hugging him tightly as if they’ve missed his cock swelling within them.

“JIMIN!” You’re seeing fireworks as your husband fucks into you, holding you close to him.  It’s as rough and kinky as it is intimate and sweet.  He holds you, cherishes you, while he’s pistoning his thick member into your loud, drenched cunt.  

“I love you,” he whispers, slipping a thumb into your mouth that you suck at eagerly, as skilled with his fingers as you are with his cock.  “I love you so fucking much.”

His eyes align with yours, yours full of tears of absolute unrivaled pleasure, and his with full and never-ending devotion. 

You’re both so close, and you pull him against you to kiss his lips.  You want to connect completely to him as you cum, as he spills into your womb and creates something, someone there. 

Your cunt flutters intensely, quaking in anticipation as it builds and builds and builds.  Jimin breaks the kiss to breathe and warn you, “I’m going to cum soon, baby, please cum with me.”  He’s gentle and sweet, the Jimin who cries at love stories and wears flower crowns now present inside you.  You nod quickly, gasping as the coil winds tighter and tighter.  

Your kissing is messy, passionate, and your hands grasp him everywhere.  You’re tugging at his toned arms and solid back, seeking refuge as the tidal wave grows impossibly high, higher, so so high,

And crashes into you at 100 miles per hour.  Your cunt is contracting and pulsing around him so intensely you nearly black out, crying loudly into his mouth.  He’s groaning with you, the feeling of your already impossibly tight walls clenching down on him demands the orgasm out of him.  He’s cupping your whole face in his hands as he spills into you and your walls suck him in further, so far he could disappear completely.  

It feels as if you orgasm for hours, but it's merely minutes later that you’re trying to catch your breath and slip back into reality.  You’re clinging to each other like last lifelines and the gaze between you is so intense it clenches at your racing heart.  

The silence between you two is long and speaks an entire conversation before your lips even open.  He’s singing so sweetly through the speaker, it sounds like he’s singing directly to you.  “I love you,” you’re whispering to him.

He rubs at your cheeks in his palms, wiping away stray tears of bliss that have slipped down your face.

“I love you.”

You settle into him, unwilling to move a single inch away from your husband, and marvel at the beauty that is your life, your future.  

Jimin holds you close, kisses you gently and sings softly along to the music as you fall asleep, and he adores the fact that he holds his entire world, his future, in his arms.

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[whenimaunicorn]

Playing House - Part 8

In which we find out what Ivar’s “long night” entails... the warnings list also spoils the surprises, but do read it if you need to. This part is over 5k words, and the next post will finish the scene with almost 5k more. Ivar takes his time!!!

Warnings for: D/s dynamics including in-scene negotiation (always talk BEFORE you play folks) bondage with ropes, fear play, knife play. if you’re not ok with those last two, you can stop reading when that part of the scene begins and skip right to the next chapter. I’ve separated the sections at just the right spot so that you won’t miss anything else.

Many thanks and credits to @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen​ for this GORGEOUS moodboard!!!!

Catch up:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Ivar’s room is warmer than the kitchen. Which is good, because your body has already started entering that keyed-up state that makes you shiver and tremble.

You’re ready for a night of heavy play, really you are, but as you watch Ivar settle onto his bed, setting his crutches to the side, you’re hit by a burst of softer, warmer feelings too. Ivar Lothbrok has always been a closed book. Controlled, distant, keeping everyone at arm’s reach with his sarcasm and wit even as these exact traits draw you to him like a moth to a flame. But now, he’s finally letting you in. Even if it is only a little bit at a time.

He’s been so attentive to your desires. He’s created the most amazing scenes, the most tantalizing games, to set your body and soul on fire in ways you had thought were only ever going to happen in your fantasies. And yet, is he getting what he wants? You still haven’t seen him come. He’s never even let you try. You’d hardly noticed that at first, given all the wild new experiences he’s been putting you through, but at this moment you are almost overwhelmed by your need to give something back to him now.

You approach him softly. You would kneel at his feet but then you couldn’t embrace him like you want. So you leave the games behind and sit down at his side, take his hand between your own.

His gaze is locked onto yours. Watching indulgently, waiting to see what you’ll do. Maybe he doesn’t always need to be in charge. Although there’s a weight behind those eyes as he lets you massage his hand softly, as you lay kisses on each of his knuckles, that makes you feel like all the control is still his. What’s that term that horseback riders use? Letting you have your head. His grip on the reins is loose, but they are still in his hands.

You want to show him your gratitude. That’s what this moment feels like, this almost-intolerably warm bubble that’s bursting up behind your chest. You’ve lost track of how many shimmering, mind-blowing orgasms you’ve had since this game began, and Ivar has not even once asked you to pleasure him. You have to give him that now. It’s not even guilt, it’s a craving. An imperative coming from the deepest part of yourself.

You lean in to kiss him on the lips. Still he watches, tipping his chin far enough to receive your affections, not moving enough to influence what you’re going to do next. Your lips travel to his cheekbone, his temple, his jawline. There is a part of you that can still hardly believe you are allowed to touch this perfect, angel’s face.

When your lips pluck at his again he opens to you, and when he kisses back he can’t help but do it his way, sucking at your bottom lip, meeting your tongue with his own. His hand comes up to the back of your head, fingers carding through your hair.

You lean into his body, letting your hands travel over his shoulders and chest, slipping under his arms to embrace the broad expanse of his back. You still can’t shake the feeling that you’re getting away with something, somehow, just by touching him this freely. It’s not that he’s reluctant, he’s just . . . still. Allowing himself to be caressed.

He pulls you in tighter, responding with more life the longer you two keep making out. You were almost worried you were doing something wrong, or maybe he was bored by something as simple as kissing, but now his body is writhing along with yours and you’re falling together into the sheets.

His fingers trace over your skin. The scalloped edging of the garter belt’s lace, overlapping the row of thin ribbons that form the side straps of your panties, give him plenty of textural interest to play with while you slip your hands up under his shirt.

His skin is smooth and warm, his abs springing up into your hand as he lifts his upper body high enough to pull his shirt over his head. Several locks of hair cascade down around his face in the shirt’s wake; you reach up to play with them immediately.

“Will you let your hair down?” you ask shyly. For months you’ve dreamed of what it would feel like to run your fingers along his scalp, through his long, thick hair.

He thinks about it, smiles, and tugs the elastic out of his little bun. The dark, silky strands slide between your fingers, and Ivar closes his eyes in bliss as you scratch softly along his scalp.

He finally seems to be relaxing. With your hands wrapped around his head you kiss him again, and he responds eagerly, his fingertips dancing along your ribs.

You want to be his good girl. You want to make him feel even better. Without breaking the kiss, you run your hand down over his tattooed pecs, skimming along his abs and sliding your fingertips just beneath his belt. Dipping under just a little, in a slow side-to-side; not so much teasing as asking permission. Your mouth goes dry just thinking about getting your hands on Ivar’s cock.

His abs tense. He’s pulling away. Oh no, a voice in your head says. What did you do wrong.

“Don’t you want to know what I’ve planned for tonight?” There’s mischief in his eyes.

You roll your body against him. “What if I have plans, too?”

Something drops out behind his smile. That’s not what he wanted to hear you say. Still, his smile is indulgent. “Do you.”

You’re committed. You run your hand down his belly, the direction of travel obvious. “I want to make you feel . . . as good as you’ve been making me.”

Ivar leans in, smirking. “It’s a good plan.” He nips at your lip. “Mine’s better.”

And just like that, he’s rolling away from you, reaching down to tug something out from under the bed.

“Are you very familiar with shibari?”

You sit up beside him. Ivar hauls a duffle bag up onto the bed, filled with neat coils of rope. They’re in several colors: black, teal, natural hemp brown. Ivar lifts two braided twists of brilliant crimson. You reach out to touch one; it’s as smooth and silky as it looks. “I’ve seen it. Never got to experience.”

Ivar taps one bundle of rope against your hip. “Would you like to try?”

The pictures you’ve seen online mostly feature blissed-out looking women bound elaborately from head to toe, wrapped in knots and open twisting weaves that turn their bodies into works of savagely sexual art. You look at the scarlet rope in Ivar’s hands, imagine it embracing your curves, binding and supporting your limbs, serving your body up to him while taking away all of your control. You find yourself nodding, vigorously.

Ivar is nodding too, his smile thick and broad.

“I’m not sure if I’m flexible enough.” You’re thinking of some of the contortions you’ve seen the models pulling off, seemingly effortlessly.

He shakes his head, bemused. “We will start with something simple. And comfortable.” He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Sit up here, at the edge of the bed.” He unfurls a length of rope, holding it doubled in his hand. The first loop goes over your head, loosely. “Stand in front of me,” he orders softly.

His fingers brush down the center of your body as he straightens and smooths the two cords descending from the knot at the center of your chest.

“Your job, aside from following my directions, is to tell me immediately if any part of this does not feel completely comfortable. Do you understand?”

You nod, but he waits for you to give a full vocal answer. “Yes.”

He ties a knot into the doubled rope, about a hand’s-length below the first. Unintentionally, his knuckles brush against the bottoms of your breasts. “Something that feels a little bit too tight at first can become a major problem as time goes on. So you must tell me right away if any wrap is too tight.”

“Ok.”

Another knot, even with your belly. The small, accidental touches that come with his work are maddeningly tantalizing. Probably because you’re not used to standing in full lingerie in front of a guy while he concentrates on something other than tearing you apart. Ivar’s ability to delay his gratification is truly legendary. “I don’t plan on putting you in any stressful positions tonight. But if any part of your body starts tingling or going numb, I also need to know that as soon as you even think you feel it.”

“I understand.”

His knuckles brush the fronts of your thighs as he creates the next knot. Then he reaches up to trace the scalloped black edge of your bra. “We can do this naked next time,” he suggests, “but since you have never done this before, I want us to see how you react while you feel less…exposed. It can be surprisingly intense to have your whole body bound.” He presses the rest of the rope between your legs, reaching around to pull the whole length of it through to the other side. You step your legs a little further apart to let him work, enjoying the feel of the smooth hemp dragging softly across your inner thighs. “Which is what I would like to do, if this first section feels alright.”

You nod.

“Turn around.”

You’re disappointed not to be able to keep looking at Ivar’s face, but at the same time it’s freeing to be unobserved for a time, free to go inward and just feel everything about this strange and exciting new experience. He’s pulling the long ends of the rope up through the loop behind your neck now. Stopping before it gets tight, he coaxes you to step back closer to him. You feel his breath on your shoulder as he reaches around to check the level of the first knot he placed against your upper chest.

You start to realize what he’s creating with this rope when one strand comes around either side, under your arms, and loops through the ropes hanging between each knot, separating them out to form a diamond shape. It’s that lovely interlocking pattern you’ve seen in pictures before, wrapping the body in a net-like harness.

The first pass tightens the cords above your breasts, the second below.

“Breathe for me.” Ivar takes a deep inhale behind you, demonstrating what he wants. “Too tight?”

You are certainly aware of the ropes around your ribcage, and while they constrict just a little when you take a deep breath, it’s not restrictive, or scary. “No. It’s still easy to breathe.”

“Good.”

The pattern continues around your waist, taking all the slack out of the line so that by the time he has opened up the diamond beneath your navel, the rope between your legs is cinching against your vulva. You shift on your feet a little, testing the angles your movement can get on the tantalizing pressure there.

Ivar’s fingers follow the rope down, checking exactly what you’re doing. His chuckle is dark, and your breath catches at the pleasure of even the edges of his fingers sliding across your labia, through the panties. “I have heard that a knot can be placed in the rope down here, too. An experienced Dom can determine just the right spot.”

‘H-have you done this a lot?”

Ivar makes a musing noise. “Here and there. It is not always easy to find someone to practice on. I like to think that I have mastered the basics.”

You make an appreciative noise, rolling your body against the ropes that now beautifully and snugly encase you from chest to hips. “I don’t know who would turn this down. It feels amazing.” You feel, in fact, just a little bit like you’re on drugs. Grounded in the minute sensations of your body, and yet your mood is soaring, floating and ephemeral.

Ivar’s hands envelop your waist from behind and you almost swoon. They are so large, and so warm, stroking each diamond-shaped island of skin between the ropes. “Then you would like to continue?” He’s feeling it too; his tone is deeper and lighter both at once, as ultra-focused as you are.

“Yes.”

“Can I bind your arms?”

Oh yeah. All this, and you’re not even technically tied up yet. You take a deep breath, turning to look at Ivar sitting on the edge of his bed and staring up at you with dazzled eyes. “Yes.”

His gaze slips lower, and you turn more fully to show off his completed work. “Wow, you look…so good.”

You have to agree. The knotted bands of crimson both bind and enhance your every curve, stacking onto the effect of the silver-embroidered lingerie to make you look like a stolen treasure, the richest captive prize.

“I’m glad I chose the red,” Ivar says. “This shade compliments your skin tone so well.”

You look down at yourself, just reveling in the obscene glory he’s created of you. And rock your hips against that lower rope again. The interconnected tightness of the full harness is fascinating, erotic. The cords pull across your shoulders, around your breasts, encircling your navel.

And Ivar is not even done. “Can you stack your wrists behind your back?”

You turn around, showing him that you can.

“Do you think you could stay that way for . . . twenty minutes?”

You roll your shoulders, testing your muscles. “I think so.”

You feel him start to slide the ropes around. “I can release this quickly if your arms start to ache.”

Something else starts aching as Ivar continues to restrain you. The snugness around your wrists is enticing, and oddly comforting. As are the deft movements of his fingers as he lines up the wraps around your forearms. It feels like he’s sheathing them in several rows, and you let your hands go limp. They don’t need to do anything right now. They can rest.

Ivar’s fingertips dance up your arms when he is done. He draws you to face him again, and you do so, almost feeling like he’s put you into a trance. Normally you would feel awkward with someone just looking at you, like he is, saying nothing. But all nestled up in the embrace of the ropes, you’re happy just to stare back at him. His wide eyes show you that you look just as lovely on the outside as you feel on the inside.

His hands run over your upper body, in admiration of his work. He follows a similar pattern he had traced with the pinwheel earlier. You wonder if he’s going to bring that out again, now that you are bound and cannot escape. Your nipples harden at the thought of how vulnerable you are. And yet, you feel so safe here in Ivar’s room.

“I would like to bind your legs, if you think you could lay on the bed. It may be less comfortable on your arms, though.”

“Let’s try.”

You end up sitting up against the head of the bed, propped with a few pillows while he starts at your ankles, binding them together with a little knot in between. “Do you want to leave your shoes on?” he asks. “I love the heels, but if they are distracting you I’ll take them off.”

“They look cute,” you say. Luckily, they are not the kind that pinch you anywhere. “Leave them on.”

Ivar smiles and continues wrapping the rope upwards, creating a ladder pattern of staggered twists up and over your knees. Watching the precise movements of his arms as he places the cords just so, pulling the tail ends up and between your legs with slow, controlled motions so that they never slap against your skin, you find yourself hypnotized, dissolving on the inside into a warm and cared-for goo.

In no time at all, your legs have been constricted down to a mermaid’s tail.

“How do you feel,” Ivar asks, his breath edging on a whisper.

“Mmm,” you reply. He runs his hand up the side of your leg, skimming the skin between the rectangular windows sectioned off by the rope. You watch his hand dreamily until he bends to insert his face into your line of sight.

He says your name, gently urging you to focus. His eyes are careful and curious. “Are you with me?”

You smile for him, pushing through the trance to focus on being a little bit more of yourself again. “Yes. I feel . . . spaced out, that’s all. Not scared.” You shift against your bonds, just to feel how your arms and legs can’t go anywhere. “I like it.” You feel snug, safe, and somehow calm and excited both at once.

Ivar’s answering smile is indulgent. You can see how much pride he feels, having brought you to this state. His fingers slide along the edge of the binding just below your hips, the wrap that cuts a line across your bare skin above the lace top of your stockings.

“What now?” you ask.

Ivar dips his head, looking at you from under his brows as his cheek pulls into a crooked smile. “Now, we play.” His fingers rake around the sides of your hips, just intense enough to make you squirm.

Squirming is an interesting experience in these ropes. They tighten in unexpected places, calling your attention to various sections of your body, leaving you no room for any thoughts outside of the purely sensory. Ivar’s fingers trace up your sides, and he bends his head to lavish kisses inside the diamond at the center of your abdomen.

It’s a tender spot, made more vulnerable by the fact that your arms are locked behind your back. Tingles buzz through your whole body as the instinctive, survival parts of your brain try to make sense of what is happening. Ivar’s touch is loving, however, strong yet safe, and you melt happily into the buzzing confusion he’s made of your nervous system.

The constant snugness around your limbs makes you feel free, paradoxically. The obvious, concrete reminder that you are fully controlled gives you permission to let go, to stop monitoring yourself or holding anything back. As Ivar’s hands and lips travel across your body, you tell him, in a series of gasps, little moans, and even more primal noises, exactly how he’s making you feel. There’s no way you could hold any of it back. Every inch of your skin, every muscle in your body belongs to him now, and answers to his call.

Ivar makes his own growling sort of sound. “I’m going to move you,” he warns, voice thready like he too is overcome by something deeper than normal words. His strong arms grasp you about the legs and pull you further down the bed. Then he lifts you onto your side, grasping hands eager to explore more regions of your body.

There’s not an inch of you that you don’t want to give to him. The pattern of the ropes has locked your body into something that makes you feel beautiful from head to toe, and you’re not surprised that Ivar wants to explore you from every angle. You can just feel that everything from your ankles to the breadth of your shoulders has been enhanced into an erotic offering.

And yet, you are more than just an object for his use. Ivar remembers to readjust the pillows, to make certain that you are settled into a comfortable configuration as you lay trussed-up on your side across the bed. He kisses your cheek, then his lips ghost across your own in a tantalizing almost-kiss that awakens your desire for him immediately.

But Ivar’s lips are gone before you can kiss him back and keep him there, trailing down your shoulder and the outside of your arm as he moves to admire the ropes that crisscross your back. You are reminded of your longing to take his cock into your mouth. You wonder if he really realized that was what you were offering, before he took out the ropes. Although perhaps he just wanted to get you this way first.

You want to tell him of your wish, to offer this to him again. The need inside of you to give back something, anything to this tantalizing devil of a man is growing enough to choke you. And yet, the trancelike effect of the ropes is robbing you of your ability to speak. The need to direct anything, to choose anything, fades away under the constant sensory input reminding you of Ivar’s control.

His hands across your ass are heavenly. There’s not much ropework there: two strands emerge from between your legs, lining your crack like a thong before separating out to form the diamond harness that wraps your torso. Your leg binding ends well below the swell of your butt muscles. All that sensitive flesh is open and free, aside from the thinnest satin of your panties. You try to imagine how the red rope looks where it cuts across the center of the detailed pattern of silver embroidery on black.

Ivar’s fingers find the edge of your underwear, sliding along and lifting the scalloped hem from the top of your hip along the full curve of your glutes. He pauses halfway down, and pushes the fabric back a little farther. He chuckles. “Are you aware that Ubbe left a bite mark on your ass?”

Breath rushes into your lungs, waking you up a little. “No,” you answer simply.

Ivar only sounds amused. “Sloppy.” He has only ever seemed amused by the whole arrangement, but it’s only natural that you feel just a bit apprehensive when this topic comes up. After all, the whole thing has been framed as an excuse for Ivar to threaten you with punishment. There might be one coming now.

“I am reminded,” he smirks, “that you wanted a little pain tonight.”

Your body curls in a little, your bound knees pulling up closer toward your chest. Which doesn’t do much to protect your ass. Ivar gives it a little slap; not a painful one, but it makes you jump anyway. Your senses are so heightened right now.

“While I did enjoy giving you that spanking”—his hand soothes over you bottom—“now is not the right time to do something like that again. Impact play while you’re already in the ropes… I’m not going to overwhelm you like that tonight.” His fingers lift, dragging circles in your skin lightly enough to tickle. “Rope bondage is more suited for the more subtle kinds of sensation.”

Indeed, those light tickling strokes are sending tingles through your entire backside. You relax the tightness in your abs, letting your hips swell back softly, your core awakening to Ivar’s playful exploration of your hindquarters.

Maybe it’s your imagination, but his fingers seem to return often to where he had pointed out that bite mark. It makes you wonder how Ubbe would react to seeing you now, like this. Would he treat you with as much care as Ivar has?

It’s hard to picture it. More likely he’d use the rope around your wrists as a handle, just to sink in balls-deep and fuck you harder.

Ivar’s fingertips swirl down to your inner thighs, taunting you with the idea that he might start taking advantage of your position now too. Since he has literally tied your legs together, it might take a little creativity to get at your clitoris, but with your knees bent like this it wouldn’t be too hard to slide anything up into your pussy. Just the thought makes your body tingle, swell, and open to him.

Ivar shifts toward the edge of the bed. Your eyes had been closed, enjoying every tiny sensation, but the sound of his crutches against the floor causes them to open.

He doesn’t go far, crossing the room to his computer desk. You remain completely motionless, so blissed out from the trance of the scene that you barely even have the focus to wonder what he might be getting. You could crane your neck, look up far enough to see what he’s doing, but why? Whatever he’s going to do, he’s going to do. Ivar is in complete control here, and it feels so good just to trust him to take care of you.

He opens a drawer, then closes it. It’s easy to identify that sound. You let your eyes drift shut. He comes back, sits down beside you on the bed. And then, an even more distinctive sound: the “shink” noise of his switchblade knife springing open.

“I only meant to introduce shibari tonight,” Ivar says as your eyes land on the naked blade in his hand, “but since you had such a big reaction to the knives today…” he flips it a few times and smirks down at you.

It’s hard to describe the way your body responds to that knife. Your heart starts to race, your skin breaks out in prickles. Your breathing probably stops. Your pussy, in particular, clenches up and then floods with warmth.

Ivar watches it all. You have no idea what kind of expression he can read in your face. He ceases the casual flipping and holds the knife up in the space between you. “Is looking at it enough,” he muses, “or would you like me to touch you with this?”

Every bare part of your skin tingles. Here you are now, his perfect victim. There’s nothing you can do to protect yourself from that cold blade. He leans in just a little closer, but otherwise just watches your face. And waits.

That was a serious question, it seems. He’s really going to make you ask for it. You’re not going to be able to get away with just playing the silent victim here if you want a taste of that thing. It’s a hard decision to make, though. When your survival instincts are this keyed up, can you really say yes? But you don’t want to say no either. Not when one of your secret, darkest kinks is staring you in the face. An opportunity you can’t dare to turn away from. But no words come.

Ivar seems to understand your predicament. “Shake your head if you want to say no,” he says quietly. “Nod if you’re saying yes.” With the hand that is not holding the knife, he gives your arm a reassuring pet. “It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

It takes effort to take your eyes away from the knife, to focus on Ivar’s face again. He looks patient, and totally accepting.

You nod your head.

You might call the smile that breaks over Ivar’s face “gleeful,” but it runs darker than that. He pokes his tongue into his cheek and brings the blade closer to your skin.

He pauses. “What are your safewords?”

You have lick your lips before you can answer. “Yellow if I need a break. Red to stop.”

Ivar nods. “If you say ‘red’ I will put the knife away and take your arms out of the rope immediately. If you say ‘yellow’ we’ll talk, and figure out what you need so you can keep enjoying yourself.”

You nod, and the knife moves toward you again.

You expect him to start somewhere simple, and not too threatening, like your arm. He’s been so kind all night. Building you up so gradually through all these new experiences. But that knife is coming right toward your face. A dozen different muscles tense across your body. You would plead with him with your eyes, but you can’t look away from that blade. You hold your breath as Ivar lays it flat against your cheek.

It’s cold, and unyielding. You freeze, afraid to move wrong lest it slice you accidentally, although you know that deep down you still trust him completely.

“My gorgeous, helpless thing.” The knife drags slowly, a millimeter at a time. “What have you gotten yourself into.” It’s only the flat side, nothing sharp, but your body wants to shudder anyway. “Is this what you’ve been craving?”

He lifts it away from your skin, showing you the wicked edge. A weird sob comes out of your mouth when you try to answer. What a word choice, ‘craving.’ You feel desperate and not in control, although you know that you could end the scene the second that you want to. You are, in fact, enjoying freaking out.

Ivar gives you a condescending little smile like he understands this completely. “I can give you what you need, little one.” He leans in closer, steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, and the flat of the knife comes back to your face. “You only have to tell me your every desire.”

You trust him, but it’s impossible not to flinch when that blade trails off the edge of your jaw and you can feel the scratch of the tip. Except, your reflexes are afraid that flinching will make it worse, and so you clench up instead, the extra tension coming out in a high-pitched little cry.

Ivar watches your face carefully, but when no safeword comes he moves that sharp sharp tip to the swell of your shoulder. “You’re so responsive,” he muses, and drags the point along your arm.

You gasp, you can’t help yourself. You have no idea how much pressure would leave a mark, how much more might leave little beaded drops of red in its wake. You lift your head to look more closely at what he’s done.

He hasn’t done anything, yet. It’s all in your head, and you try to loosen up a little. “No marks on your arms, I remember,” he reassures.

The knife lifts, and hovers lower.

You can’t really see the skin of your flank. Ivar turns his hand, brushing you first with the back of his knuckles, inside one of the diamond openings over your ribs. Warning you where the knife is about to come. It’s soothing and sadistic both at once, isn’t it. The blade is cold as it settles upon your skin, and when he rocks it onto one edge, your breath becomes more and more shallow. He might actually hurt you here. You had only said ‘no marks’ where someone would see.

You whine between your teeth.

Ivar tips his head so that it’s even with yours, checking in. When you don’t give him a safeword he looks back to his work.

The knife lifts, then returns in a slightly different place. He tilts it up to its point, just as he did on your arm, and drags it in a short, slow line. It doesn’t feel the same as it did on your arm. The sensation is so much sharper, setting off much louder warning bells inside your head. If you don’t stop him, will Ivar let it cut your skin? Your breath is catching in little gasps, and there’s a pressure starting to build behind your eyes.

Ivar takes the knife away. “What are you feeling?” he asks softly.

“Um,” you start, struggling to control your breath well enough to give a coherent answer. “Um, I know that you won’t hurt me, but this is just scarier than I thought it would be.”

He nods, listening, and holding the knife well away from your body. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” you say immediately. “Yes, and,” you force yourself to be assertive, just as Ivar wants you to be, “I’m not sure that I’m ready to actually be cut today.”

Ivar’s smile is reassuring, his blue eyes blazing just for you. “And it’s ok if you’re never ready to go that far.” He flourishes the knife a little. “I’m enjoying every second of what your body does every time I even bring this thing near you.”

He moves down a little more, and puts his free hand on your hip. The simple touch is so reassuring, so warm, that those tears start brimming up against your eyelids.

You can tell that Ivar sees them. You remember he had said he wanted to see you cry. But he had probably meant from pain, not from tender emotion like this. You attempt to blink them back. Ivar squeezes your hip. “Breathe with me, y/n.” He takes a deep inhale, coaching you to do the same.

You pull the air deep into your lungs, expanding your ribs against his bondage. You keep your eyes locked on his.

“Good,” he exhales. “I need you to keep breathing. And don’t be afraid to tell me when you’ve had enough.”

You take one more full, deep breath. “I haven’t,” you say in a sultry voice that sounds a little more like your own. “Not yet.”

“Good.” Ivar lifts the knife again, setting it against the swell of your hip in the wake of his retreating hand.

Your breathy cry is a little closer to a moan this time. It feels much better there, a bit more sexy and a bit less terrifying. As he scratches a few slow lines across your skin, you focus on breathing deeply and watching his hand control the blade deftly upon your skin, fine-tuning the pressure to give you exactly what you asked for. The sensation of threat, without any real injury.

“If this were a movie, I would cut your panties off.” He slides the blade along their edge, setting off goosebumps everywhere and reawakening your core with fresh tingles. “But these are much too wonderful to damage.” He cocks his head the other way. “Although, I suppose that I paid for them, and I could always buy you more…”

He slips the blade underneath the lacy, scalloped edge, fingertips of the other hand sneaking under too, to hold the fabric taut. When you don’t try and stop him, you feel pressure and then a ripping noise begins.

The sudden looseness in the fabric floods your pussy with arousal. You’re exposed to him now, and his teasing fingers are quick to take advantage of that as he completes his work. It takes a second cut to free the garment from your body fully, and even the simple sensations of him sliding the remnants out from under the ropes and fully off you are distinctly turning you on.

You hear him close the knife, put it away. Then both his hands are on you, soothing over every spot his blade had threatened. He starts at your hip, bending down to press kisses into your skin, his firm hands running over the expanse of your cheeks. He drags himself up the bed behind you, until he can kiss that diamond window over your ribs where you almost lost it.

Next Part Here

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[brexrif]

Henry ‘Hate**s’ You ;)

This came from a lovely lovely request I was thrilled to answer: So like the thought of Henry hate fucking me because I pissed him off on set or something has been plaguing my mind bro 😭 @poisonbaby169​

Henry is definitely a big sweet bear, but I KNOW he has hatefuck potential, and I’d love to see it. Happy to write this filthy one for you babe. Asks and requests are always open!

This weirdly got deleted the first time I posted, so lets hope for the best now!

Warnings: Obviously rough smut below!

If you are interested in more filth, please visit my MASTERLIST!

Henry has had a rough day on set. He is at the end of one of his relentless dehydrating cycles for a shirtless scene he had been trying to get all morning. So he was naturally irritable, his workout was limited due to his inability to intake water and for some reason the scene just wasn’t working out right- something with the lighting. They decided to take a break where Henry could return to his trailer, but of course not drink or eat a single thing.

You were waiting, perched on his couch in his favorite lingerie, an expensive set he had bought just for you. It was a tasteful, black lace bra and matching panties that had a corset lace up your ass and accentuated your full cheeks. Between these two pieces was a lace garter belt that attached to the matching thigh highs, which made you feel like a seductress pin-up queen. You had perfectly done up your makeup and hair and were excited to catch him off guard.

Unfortunately for Henry, you were a brat through and through. He told you last night that he couldn’t afford to break into a sweat when he was so dehydrated, leaving you wet and needy for him. Brats don’t like getting told no. So you snuck yourself on set, readied yourself and waited squirming and impatient for him to return.

The way you imagined it, Henry would finish the scene and find you wet and ready for him moments later. You didn’t want to wait for his cock any longer than was absolutely necessary.

He opened the door sighing to himself before he saw you there.

“Y/N?”

“Henry. I waited,” you cooed at him seductively, spreading your legs and arching your back on the couch.

Henry sneered and ran a hand through his thick curls, frustrated.

“We haven’t gotten the shot yet” he said through gritted teeth. “Get dressed and go home, I’ll deal with your sweet ass later.”

“B-but, Daddy! That’s not fair” you pouted.

His head snapped up at you, eyes ignited with a fire you rarely saw. You knew how to get him. You knew what made him throb, and you knew if you called him Daddy that his neglected cock would spring to life with a force that could not be ignored. You saw it pushing on his pants as he clenched his jaw at you.

“Kitten, I will give you one more chance to get dressed right now.” He was growling at you, which only made the heat between your desperate thighs more intense. You stood up as if to get dressed, turned slightly to reach your clothes, but instead slowly dragged the lace panties down your legs and wiggled your ass slowly, as if it was necessary to get them off. You giggled to yourself, knowing exactly what you were doing to him, but your giggles were cut short by a rough grip on your ass. A sharp spank came across your cheeks and you yelped.

“You’ll be sorry for this disobedience, Kitten. I’m not in a forgiving mood.” His hands dug into your hips and threw you forward on the couch. You caught yourself on the back of the couch and your knees fell to the cushioned seating part, leaving your ass high for Henry. You heard the clanking of his belt as it tore it from the loops of his pants. You thought he might settle behind you, thrust his cock into your desperate core finally, but no. He came up beside you, his belt doubled over in his hand, a sight that filled you with terror and pleasure.

“You’re such a fucking brat” he growled into the nape of your neck before biting it. It hurt, but his lips on you, his teeth on you, any touch from Henry was ecstasy. He continued between biting and sucking the soft skin under your ear,

“Do you know what happens to disobedient brats, Kitten?” You whimpered in response, knowing what would come to pass as he adjusted the belt in his hand. The leather came across your exposed ass hard and with no warning.

“Too hard, Henry!” you tried, but he was too pissed. You could have used the safe word, but a part of you loved this rough treatment. The belt came down again and you squealed, burying your face into the fabric of the couch.

“You know what else is hard, slut? When I’m trying to work and you can’t keep control over that needy little cunt of yours.” Another blow from the belt. You could feel the red hot stripes rising from the fleshy skin.

“I’m sorry, Daddy” you cried out, but the belt came down again. He was right about not being in a forgiving mood and you started to question your choice to come down to set today.

“I’ll bet you’re sorry now, Kitten. But that’s too bad.” Another blow from the belt and you leapt, legs starting to shake from the pain. A low chuckle resonated in Henry’s broad chest. He sat back on the couch and removed his shirt, giving your now bruising skin a break. You stole a glance. His body was incredible. He had been training for weeks for this shot and though the training plan was borderline torturous, you had to admit that his body was breathtaking. His deeply defined muscles spread endlessly over his hard body, distracting you from the painful heat on your backside.

He stood behind you and you heard his zipper, and then his pants fall. His large hands rubbed over your ass, admiring the marks he had made, a low hum rumbling in his chest. “You bruise so pretty, Kitten.” He commented, before bringing the belt down one last time on your sensitive ass. You screamed into the couch cushion, raw from the pain. He gripped at your cheeks greedily and kneaded his fingers over you until he reached the heat of your folds, soaking wet for him despite the rough treatment.

He dove a thick finger in with no warning and you moaned, louder than you should have. You were overcome with the feeling of pleasure in lieu of pain and the screams you had been holding back escaped in a breathy moan now. He curled his finger knowingly and tickled your g-spot. Your knees buckled inward and you moaned again, desperate and needy for him.

“Absolutely soaked. Such a desperate slut.” He withdrew his fingers and you whined obnoxiously. He gripped a handful of your tediously styled hair and pulled you up, your back arched and your shoulders rest against his chest.

“Don’t you fucking whine at me” he growled before biting and sucking at your neck again. With his other hand, he guided his thick, throbbing cock to your entrance and plowed it into you. He dragged your head back as he sheathed himself so the throaty sounds of your moans went up and out, unabashed and unmuffled.

Henry fucked into you at a maddening pace. He was clearly taking his frustration out on you; the weeks of training, the hunger, the dehydration, the incompetent lighting equipment holding up the shot, your bratty, needy body. It was all culminating in every thrust he rammed into you now. He threw you back forward by the handle he had in your hair and gripped your hips, digging his nails in deep. He spanked your bruising flesh and you yelped, keening in painful pleasure.

“That’s right Kitten, cry for me.” He growled, an anger in his voice you had never heard before. He pushed your head down into the couch so your ass presented even higher for him and your face smushed into the crack between the cushions- he didn’t care. The new angle provided him access even deeper inside you. He drove his hard cock into you with power, the flesh of your whole body shaking in waves with each clap of his hips into you. You felt his balls ramming into you clit and your breath hitched as you neared orgasm. He must have felt it as he started into you faster, his nails digging into your hips. The head of his cock started pounding into your cervix and you groaned. Two final pumps and he unloaded into you. Henry plowed his cock deep inside you and howled, all the frustration coming out in a primal roar. He continued grunting as his cock twitched inside you, releasing his thick cum.

He pulled himself out and pushed you over on the couch, your pussy was still throbbing, your clit absolutely aching.

“But Daddy I-”

“Did you think I was going to let you cum? Poor Kitten”

....................................

This was so fun! Fill up my asks and requests! Check out my MASTERLIST!

AFTERCARE WITH HENRY

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in my content and specify whether you’d like Geralt, Henry or both! <3 

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[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Prologue: Well, Fuck Me!

Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Intro: The Losers infiltrate a child sex trafficking operation based in the Middle East thanks to their new inside woman...only she isn’t new to all the team.

Warnings: Bad Language. Smut (NSFW, 18+) Mentions of child slavery

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

The mission was simple, well, on paper. Clay and the rest of his specially selected Black-Ops team were charged with bringing down a child sex trafficking ring being operated by a number of corrupt US and UK Soldiers who were currently stationed in Iraq. His person on the inside had successfully infiltrated the ring following a 6 month period of being undercover and thanks to them they now knew how it was being operated. The kids targeted were orphans, so there was no one there to make a fuss or protect them. They were taken from the streets, refugee camps and then smuggled into Turkey (not Syria as they had originally thought)  where they were transported to Hakkari before being auctioned off and handed over to whoever it was that had bought them for the evening, ready for whatever disgusting fate awaited them. This process was repeated several times over a week, before the kids were then disposed of before a fresh new bunch brought in for the next auction in three months time.  It was slick, well organised, and fucking disgusting. But Clay knew he had to keep that disgust at bay, if he had any chance of keeping his cover. Earlier that day Cougar had successfully taken out one of the original players who would be attending the auction, thanks once more to the info their insider had passed on, and Clay had taken his place. He sat in the plush, velvet arm-chair which surrounded a dimly lit stage, a glass of scotch in one hand, cuban in the other. Coupled with his dark suit and open collar white shirt, he looked to be a seamless copy of the the rest of the perverts lounging in equally opulent seats around the circle.  A literal paedophile ring.  "In position..."   Roque spoke into the tiny ear-piece Clay was wearing. He had no microphone, nothing. Wearing anything like that was far too big a risk, but the ear piece as designed by Jensen was far too small for them to have noticed. It meant he could still hear what was going on, and once he gave the signal his team plus the rest of the CIA officers waiting outside would swamp the place. And if a few of the perverts happened to hit a few steps or fists on their way out, no one was going to cry about it.  "We have visual on you Colonel..."  Pooch spoke again "Jensen hacked the CCTV and is now about to cut their comms..." "Easy as pie..." Jensen muttered  "And as I am a genius, they are now officially unable to contact the outside world..." "If you're a genius then they seriously need to rethink what they call Einstein..."  Pooch retorted. “Shut up Pooch, not my fault you can't even figure out how to work a laptop..." "Enough!"  Roque cut across the banter, Cougar's chuckle hitting Clay's ear as he watched a pretty, slim blonde Woman striding onto stage. "It's starting. Keep comms clear until further instructions received." Clay looked at the woman, her black dress was tight leaving little to the imagination. Her hair was pulled back into a high pony-tail and her lips were painted a blood red. Dark eyeshadow adorned her lids and her calculating blue eyes scanned the room, falling on him for a second before she continued looking around, a smile curling across her face. She looked the part of a Gentlemans Club owner. Pristine, perfectly put together, but she was a female pimp- nothing more, nothing less.  "Gentlemen, welcome." she spoke, her soft American accent cutting across the rooms and Clay noted the slight New-England twang she had. "The Auction is about to begin but I must first of all run down a few rules with you. You will find to your right your bidding pads. Should you wish to bid, tap the button. Simply put, highest bidder wins. Once your purchase has been made and the monies have been collected from your specified accounts, you will be invited to meet with your latest acquisition in the specially provided rooms. They are yours to do with as you wish until 9 am tomorrow morning upon which time they will be collected from your rooms and your personal effects will be returned. All we ask is that you do not kill them. It becomes messy and attracts unnecessary attention to the club from the outside." She turned and barked something in Turkish to someone and a door to the back of the room opened. The woman moved to another smaller plinth at the back of the room as a man dragged a crying girl, that can't have been older than 9 years, dressed in nothing but her underwear onto the circular plinth under the spotlights. "Fuck..."  Clay heard Pooch's disgusted voice in his ear. "This is sick." Jensen muttered. And it was. But Clay had to remain still, and silent. The play was simple, he put in a few bids and hung back. But at some point, when he was sure they had enough evidence, he would enter a bid of a million. That was the team's cue to move. He let the first girl go, much as he didn't want to. But seeing her being dragged off the stage was enough to make him decide he was ending it with the second. He couldn't take watching another kid go through that, they had to have enough to bust this wide open, surely.  The next was a small, dark haired boy. He was pulled onto the stage by the burley guard, trembling, his brown eyes wide in fear. The bidding began. 10, 12, 15 thousand... at that point Clay hit his button, submitting his bid of 20. It was beaten, so he entered another and was beaten again. "Bidding stands now at 40 thousand." the woman spoke. "Any further bids?" Clay pushed his button "1 million." he spoke clearly. The woman cocked her head to one side, her eyebrow raising but before she could say anything the doors to the back of the room blew off. Jensen, Cougar, Roque and Pooch flew into the room, flanked by a number of CIA agents and army officers as there was the usual pandemonium associated with a raid. As Jensen sprinted off down a corridor to the left in search of their Offices and computers,  Pooch tossed a gun to Clay who joined the fray. He looked up in time to see the woman who had been running the auction sprinting out of the room down another corridor, but before he could say anything Roque was after her. "You sick, fucking bitch..." Roque mumbled as he sprinted down the winding corridors in the depths of the club almost tripping over her discarded heels as he went. Eventually he caught up with her, just as she raised a gun that she seemed to have produced from nowhere, shooting someone in front of her. Just as the shot rang out, Roque threw himself onto her, taking her down. She struggled a little in his arms, her strength taking him by surprise as they tangled together but eventually his strength won out and he pinned her on his back. His hand reached up to grab the wrist of the arm she held her gun in and he banged it sharply on the floor a few times until she dropped her weapon.  He looked at her face for a second, and something flashed in her eyes. Almost relief and she let out a breath. "I'll come quietly" she said and Roque shook his head. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you right here, right now." "Because you need me." she shrugged "I'm your key to busting this whole thing wide open." "Get up..." Roque snarled, as he hauled her to her feet, secured her wrists behind her back with his restraints. He looked her up and down and noticed that her dress had ripped slightly, exposing her right thigh flashing the hold-ups and garter straps he was wearing, into which was tucked another pistol. He ripped it from the strap which ran up and over a large, floral tattoo before he spun her round and with the gun jabbed into her back, he pushed her in front of him back the way he had come.  "Can I at least get my shoes?" she asked. Roque looked at her, incredulously, but let her slip the heels back on before they continued, emerging into the large cavernous room containing the stage. The plush velvet chairs now scattered all over the place, shreds of fabric still in the air as they were riddled with bullet holes and Clay was barking orders to someone in an Army uniform who nodded, and started to instruct his men to move out the prisoners they had taken to the waiting vehicles. Pooch and Cougar turned to face him first, before Clay spun round. The woman Roque was holding looked Clay in the eye and arched her eyebrow slightly as she raised her chin in defiance.  "Caught her in the back, she shot one of the other operators." Roque said, his gun nudging her forward another step "Probably to stop him talking." Clay eyed her for a second, before a wide grin split across his face and he looked at Roque "Let her go, she's one of us." "What?" Roque blinked, not sure he had heard correctly. Behind Clay Pooch and Cougar exchanged a look. "I said she's one of us." Clay said, "She's my person on the inside." Roque paused for a moment, looking at Clay then to the woman who turned to face him, her shoulders shrugging slightly "I told you I was your key to busting this wide open." Roque uncuffed her and she moved her arms, rubbing her wrists slightly. "Sorry." he said gruffly. "It's fine, you didn't know..." she said, cocking her head to one side "But can I have my guns back?" Roque fished in the waistband of his jeans and handed her the two pistols which she slipped back into her suspenders, giving a little moan. " You ruined my dress..." Pooch and Cougar gave a little snigger each and Roque glared at them both. Clay, however, ignored the 3 of them completely and looked at the woman. "Did you get him?" She nodded "Bullet straight through his head. I never miss."  "Through the head?" Pooch looked at her. "It was a shoot to kill order." she shrugged "So I shot and I killed him." Cougar tipped his hat slightly in approval as Pooch looked at him, then to Clay, then to Roque. Clay let out a huff of a laugh before he turned to the team. "This is Stella Stevenson, aka Arty..." "Like Artrois...that's clever." Pooch chuckled.Arty grinned at him as Roque looked at Clay "Emma's replacement, right?"

Clay nodded. "She's slightly less volatile..." 

Arty raised an eyebrow "Until I'm pushed...although leaving a bomb in someone's car is far too crude for my liking. You wouldn't see me coming, Clay." Clay snorted "Losers, treat her well. She's like a daughter to me, we go way back."

She smiled, and then looked around before she nodded to a door at the back, gesturing at them to follow her. "Everything you need is on the systems. I buried it as deep as I could to stop them deleting any of it. You got names, dates, transactions..."

"They kept transactions?" Pooch frowned as they walked down towards the offices she was indicating.

 "Key blackmail opportunities." Clay took a deep breath.

"Which I daresay we'll uncover as well." she spoke "This goes deep Clay. Deep. And it's not the only one. They're operating out of Syria and Afghanistan too." "Ok." Clay nodded, "Let's see if Jensen is done retrieving the intel off the systems and then we can-"

"Jensen?" Arty blinked at the mention of the familiar name and Clay turned to her grinning "You son of a bitch..." she laughed, shaking her head.

Roque, Cougar and Pooch exchanged a look.

"What did we miss?" Roque asked as they stopped outside a door.

"You're about to find out..." Clay said, pushing the door open. 

The five of them stepped inside and Clay looked at Jensen who had their back to them  and was leaning over a screen, his nose almost touching it. "You get what we need?"

Jensen didn't look up. "I was right, they had an automatic virus in here that can be remote operated but the stuff was buried deep, by someone who wanted to make sure it didn't get wiped, they clearly knew what they were doing..." he mused, and Clay glanced at Arty who raised an eyebrow "Just transferring it back to base now. We got names, dates, transaction history...and there are a few very naughty senators who are gonna be getting their collars felt. Which is better than them getting their balls felt by twelve year olds..." "Shame you weren't this good at Mario Karts JJ..." Arty spoke and Jensen stilled slightly before he whipped around in his seat.

"Stel?" he spoke, utterly astounded as he stood up, his dark green t-shirt rippling over his chest. She looked at him for a second.

"I thought you were in Afghanistan." she cocked her head to one side, taking his appearance in. He hadn't changed a bit in the year or so it had been since she had seen him last. Same cheeky and boyishly handsome face, same spiky blonde hair, same broad shoulders which tapered into a slim waist."

I thought you were in Iraq." he shot back, eyeing her up and down. She hadn't changed a jot either. Same curvy figure, same long legs and he let out a moan as he saw the guns strapped to her thigh through the rip in her dress. "Are you wearing suspenders?"  His eyes widened before they worked their way up her body.

"Always were observant Jakey." she grinned as his eyes locked onto her own, those crystal blue orbs shining slightly in the light of the room.

"Alright quit perving and for your information she was in Iraq." Clay said, "Under my orders." "Ok, what's this all about? You know each other or something?" Roque asked, gesturing between them with his hand.

Pooch rolled his eyes "Good call Roque, you think?"

"She's my best friend..." Jensen grinned, "All the way through middle and high-school..."

Stella barked out a laugh "So that's what we're calling it now?"

"Ok, best friend with...certain benefits.. if you get my drift." Jensen shrugged, his eyes twinkling cheekily. A that, Pooch let out a groan whilst Cougar smirked "Nice..." he said, tipping his hat, speaking for the first time since Arty had met him, a low chuckle escaping his mouth. Roque blinked and turned to Clay "And you knew about this?"

"I told you, she's like a daughter to me..." Clay shrugged. Jensen and Arty stood still, not really paying attention, simply looking at one another, until Jensen grinned and threw his arms open.

"Come here!"

With a grin she threw herself at him and he hugged her tight, arms wrapping around her back as he lifted her off the floor slightly and kissed her cheek.

"It's good to see you Stel”

“You too Jakey" After an hour or so, Clay signalled to the team that it was time to depart and they headed to the chopper that was waiting to take them out of Turkey and to the UN Base in Damascus where their handler was waiting to talk to them. The man, known only to them as David, took all the information down, told them what was likely to happen over the next few days and informed them that they would be ex-filled back to CIA HQ in DC in the next week or so, for full debrief. They were shown to their quarters for the next few days, which were all private rooms in the officers' lodgings, thank God, and they all retrieved their kit bags from the piles that were waiting for them, Arty's own pack being significantly smaller.

"Hope it's all the right size." Clay nodded towards it.

She smiled and took it from him with a thanks. "Sure it will do...hang on, did you buy me underwear as well?"

Clay shrugged.

"Ok, that's kinda gross..."

"I said I was like your dad..." he arched an eyebrow, "Not that I actually was. The rest of your stuff from the base will be shipped back, most likely waiting for you by the time we exfil."

"Thanks Clay." The team bid each other goodnight and Arty, once in her room headed straight for a shower. She turned the water on as hot as she could stand, and stepped under with a light groan, scrubbing her body and hair down as if the soap and shampoo would wash away the last 6 months. It wouldn't, of course. Some of the things she had seen and had to do during her stint undercover had been vile, and she knew would stick with her for the rest of her life but she had known that it wouldn't be easy. She needed to compartmentalise, decompress, which was the whole point of the debriefs and psyche evaluation she would be subject to when she got back to DC, just like any agent returning back into the fold after a mission. Arty knew the drill, it wasn't the first undercover op she had been involved in, having been a part of Delta Force for almost 2 years now, but it was the first one during which she had been directly undercover herself following recruitment into the CIA Special Ops Group Ground force. She knew that you never stayed in Special Ops long, it was a short term thing few people were lucky enough to be chosen for and could be cut even shorter if one of the missions left your face too easily recognisable, so Stella was intending to make the most of it even though she knew already it was gruelling.  And then there was Jensen. She had no idea he was working for the CIA but then, why would she? That was the point of Black Ops. Covert. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little upset at how far they actually had drifted since they had last seen each other 12 months ago. When they both went their separate ways after completing the ROTC, they'd promised to stay in touch, and to be fair for the most part over the past 8 years they'd done just that. Phone calls, emails, and then spending any time they could when they both had leave at the same time together, but it had certainly waned over the last year and, well, now she knew why.

Turning off the shower she dried off and dug out the night wear Clay had provided her with. Pleasantly surprised and pleased to find a pair of pale yellow pyjama shorts and matching tank top she shrugged them on before she flicked on the small TV that was attached to the wall, and just as she was about to throw herself on the bed there was a knock on her door. Knowing full well it would only be one person she padded barefoot over the clean, but clinical flooring and opened it. Jensen leaned against the door frame, barefoot and dressed in a pair of black shorts and a white tank top, his handsome face sporting his trademark grin as he held up a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Me and my friend Jack were just takin' a stroll, thought we'd pop by for a catch up." He watched as she smiled, and stepped back to let him in. His eyes slid up her bare legs to her shorts and over her ass for a second before he shut the door behind him.

"Not gonna lie Stel, was kinda hoping you'd still be in that dress and those damned thigh holsters."

"They only come out for special occasions." she quipped, heading over to the small kitchen area at the back of the room and waving 2 mugs. "You want one or we doing it straight from the bottle?" "Why change the habit of a lifetime?" he snorted, twisting off the cap and taking a mouthful. She crossed towards him and he handed it to her and she took a loud mouthful, swallowing it as it burned her throat a little. "God it's hot when you do that." 

She shot him a look as he took the bottle from her, placing it down on the side before he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer

"Fuck, I missed you Stel."

"What happened to no strings attached?" She looked at him, her hands falling on top of his.

"I still really missed you. Not just the sex, but you..." he shrugged. "You know I have..."

"That why we've hardly spoken in 12 months?" she looked at him.

"I emailed..." he frowned, one hand moving to run through his hair "You're the one that went silent 6 months ago."

"I was undercover..."

"You can be under the covers now too..." he grinned and she scoffed, shaking her head. "Is this really wise if we're gonna be working together?"

"Since when have I ever done anything wise?" he shrugged, pushing his glasses back up his nose slightly.

"You should try it sometime..." Stella said, patting his chest. She stepped back out of his hold, grabbed the bottle and took another drink before she walked to the bed and flopped down on it. "Assume the position JJ." she instructed him and he grinned, dropping down beside her and she handed him the bottle. Neither of them spoke for a moment, they fell into a comfortable silence, having been in this situation many times before. Lying side by side, drinking, and just being close to one another. Jake took another mouthful of the liquor, stealing a glance at her, her damp hair pulled into a braid, the spattering of freckles that adorned her nose and cheeks evident following her being fresh from the shower, the trace of her jawline down her throat to the slight swell of cleavage he could see thanks to the neckline of her tank top... 

As she made a gesture for the bottle he handed it to her, and she took it, her eyes still fixed on the TV, and she grimaced, nodding towards the screen. Jake followed her gaze as it was cutting to a News flash.

"I said there would be some very nervous senators..." he quipped, as Stella shook her head as the footage of Capitol Hill rolled, the news reporter carrying the story about a number of arrests linked to a suspected Military Raid earlier that day. They both knew, however, that any arrests would have been made hours previously, as soon as the information they had syphoned had hit the CIA base. The entire operation was timed to a tee.

"Hope they throw away the key. Sick bastards." she muttered "Honestly Jakey some of the stuff I saw...it was fucking disgusting." Jake looped an arm round her shoulder and she lay her head against his chest, her arm looping over his stomach as he gave her a squeeze before she sat up again, taking the bottle. She took a large gulp, larger than her previous ones and pulled a face as she swallowed, her throat bobbing and he felt the familiar stirring in his pants. She looked at him for a moment, their eyes locking and his gaze flicked down to her mouth before it moved back up again as he took the bottle off her and blindly reached behind him, placing it on the table besides her bed.

"Wanna fuck?" he asked.

She shrugged "Sure, why not?"

No sooner had the words left her mouth, his lips crashed to hers in a bruising kiss and he smirked against her mouth as she straddled him, his hands falling to her hips as her mouth hungrily worked against his. Their lips moulded together in a well-known practice, her tongue teasing against his own before she pulled back, gently biting his bottom lip as she went, drawing a groan from his throat as he rest his head against hers, his eyes flickering open to lock onto hers. 

“You know…” Stella sighed, drawing back slightly to cup Jake's face in her fingertips “I'm liking this..." she traced her fingers lightly across his goatee, and he smiled at her as she reached up and took his glasses off, dropping them carelessly next to the bottle of Jack by their side. 

“It's supposed to make me look meaner…” he murmured, his lips gently brushing hers as their noses bumped together.

"Doesn't work, especially not with the bleach in your hair." she mumbled as his mouth trailed a path across her jawline and down the length of her neck "You're still that adorably yet slightly dorky 18 year old that took my cherry." "You took mine too Stel." he mumbled and her eyes closed as she rolled her head back, giving him access to more of her neck, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "How could I forget?" her voice was nothing more than a whisper as his fingers flexed on her hips, his groin pushing upwards, his hardness pressing into her core through their clothing. "I'm glad to report you got a lot better at it since then..."

 "Well, you'd know..."  he said, his tongue licking a line back up her throat as his hands grabbed at the bottom of her tank top. She moved to allow him to take it off and Jake looked down at her bare chest as she reciprocated the favour, pulling his top over his head, tossing it to the floor. Raising his head he gently nipped at the base of her neck, his hands sliding up her bare sides, calloused fingers ever so gentle over her ribs as his tongue flicked at her nipple as he took it in his mouth, drawling a loud groan from her as her hips bucked involuntarily at the sensation. 

God it really had been far too long

.Unable to take it anymore he flipped her over so she was on her back, his body sliding downwards as he dispensed of her shorts and then his own, before he kissed his way back up from her ankle all the way to that thigh tattoo which was ingrained in his memory forever. Well, most of it was anyway...

 "This...this is new. " he said gently, his fingers tracing the outline of the large, pink flower that sat at the top, almost in the crease of her hip.

"Go Petunias." she looked at him and he let out a bark of a laugh as she snaked her right leg in between both of his and using a well-executed move she threw him on his back drawing a loud huff of surprise from him.

"Jesus Stel, give a guy a warning" he mumbled as she slid over him. "Where's the fun in that?" she whispered,  brushing her lips across the hairs on his face tracing a path across from one side of his jawline to the other as his eyes fully closed in pleasure, large hands gripping at her thighs, then her hips as she shifted slightly to start taking him in. Her mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ as they both groaned as she slid down, her warmth engulfing him entirely.

."JJ..." she mumbled,  her hands falling to his chest as she held herself still "Jakey, look at me...wanna see you." He opened his eyes, locking them onto her own which were half-lidded with desire as she began to move. Her hips rotated as she ground down again, and again, his own rising to meet hers as she did.

"Fuck, Stel..." he sighed, "Still feel so good baby girl..."

She grinned, and bit her lip as her hips moved again, his hands sliding down to grab at her ass as she pushed down harshly, causing him to grunt as she ground down against him, tilting herself forward finding that angle that always got her off. Her pace was slow, torturously so, but it wasn’t long before she began to move slightly faster, working him harder as she chased her relief. The roughness of his pubic hair was grinding against her spot, the friction feeling amazing as she pushed down. With every roll of her hips, Jensen's eyes which were still locked onto hers grew darker, and darker, his hands digging into her hips as he pulled her onto him, grinding upwards further and deeper.

He sat up suddenly, so they were face to face, the change of angle making her cry out, as he slid his hands moved round her back, pulling her close to him as he kissed and sucked at her neck, biting at that spot beneath her ear whilst he held her still for a moment, gently thrusting upwards, deeply, slowly, savouring the moment. Stella rolled her head back, a louder cry this time tumbling from her lips and he felt her tighten around him, pulsing strongly as her orgasm washed over her and he let out a groan of his own as her head fell forward to his shoulder, her groans soft in his ear. . .“Good?” he whispered, smiling as she managed a broken noise of affirmation, and without giving her a moment to recover he flipped her onto her back, his hands lacing with hers at the side of her head as he began to thrust into her, his pace harder and faster.

"Jake..." she gasped, as his lips crashed onto hers, swallowing her cries as her nails dug into the back of his hands whilst he thrust into her with deep, powerful strokes. The sweat was beading over his brow as he broke the kiss, his head falling forward slightly as he felt his own relief beginning to creep up on him. He tugged his right hand free, sliding it down between them to rub at her sensitive nub as he pounded into her voraciously and she gave a loud wail her head tipping back into the pillow, her breathing ragged.

"Come on Stel..." he gasped, "Come on baby, give it to me..." And give it she did, her body shook underneath him as her mouth dropped open and she let out a loud noise which bubbled from her throat, as she once more succumbed to the wave of pleasure washing over her. The feel of her clenching around him was enough, and Jensen followed her right over the edge into delirium, his hips stuttering as his thrusts grew sloppy, riding his own orgasm out before he collapsed down on top of her, completely and utterly blissed out. They lay in silence, both struggling to gain control of their breathing in the aftermath, not a sound being made by either of them bar gasps for air as the TV continued to play in the background. Stella gently moved her hands up and down the expanse of muscle on his back, his skin slick to the touch and Jensen laid still, relishing the touch of her fingertips as they danced over his body.

Eventually he raised his head, propping himself up on his elbows as he gave her a lazy grin which she reciprocated. His hands cupped her cheeks, his lips seeking hers out once more for a kiss that was this time soft, gentle, a stark cry from the ardent ones they'd shared before. He pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers, gently brushing their noses together before he spoke, his voice slightly raspy from the exertion of the last 15 minutes or so. 

"Welcome to The Losers, Stel" he grinned.

**** Chapter 1

[v3nusaphr0d1t3]

cuz im all that you want, boy

crossposted on ao3: <3 rating: explicit content warning: shameless porn, crying during sex, unprotected sex (wear a condom kids), feminine terms used for ftm genitals, i think thats it correct me if im wrong! <3 dabi fucks tomura silly on stream !

it was only a matter of time before tomura’s next stream, and his views were at an all time high. he had taken pictures of himself in the thigh highs and garters before he went live last time, and those posts were blowing up.

he wondered if dabi would let him take pictures next time.

next time was also a fun prospect. dabi and tomura had been considerably closer since the livestream, dabi being more and more taunting each time he interacted with tomura. tomura wanted to say he disliked it, but that would be lie. not that he was impartial to lying. but it just felt strange to lie to himself about the man who would be actively fucking him to pay the bills.

tomura got almost unreasonably excited for the next stream, but before it came, he needed to talk to dabi. they needed to set limited, get supplies, and get all of that set up before they dove too deep into this. he didn’t wanna fuck the dude up or potentially get himself knocked up.

so a couple days before his next scheduled livestream, he caught dabi in the kitchen. it was later on in the night, both being unhealthily nocturnal. dabi looked up from his ramen, sitting on the counter, and immediately gave a shit eating grin.

“hello, freakshow.” tomura’s voice was laced with annoyance and sarcasm.

“hey, creep. what’s up?” he took a long slurp of his ramen, and tomura fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

“we gotta talk about some things if you wanna keep joinin’ me for the streams.” tomura pulled up a chair at the table, across the counter that dabi was currently sitting on.

“ok, so first off. you can quit out at any time, i’ll just end the stream or continue it alone. just remember that, you can leave at any time. i’ll delete any videos or anything that i put up with you in them, just tell me.” tomura started out with the most important thing. “you can always tell me if you don’t like something, or if you aren’t comfortable with something. you got a safeword? mine’s red light, just for ease.”

dabi smiled, a strange reaction that tomura didn’t evoke often, and nodded. “i gotcha, i’ll go with that too. now what’s goin’ down during the next one?” dabi’s smile morphed into the shiteating grin that tomura knew all too well.

“well, it really depends. you could do me, i could do you, its what the audience wants to see. and what they’re willing to pay for.” tomura sported a little smirk of his own, immediately dropping when the man across from him took a loud slurp of his noodles.

it was a moment before dabi replied. “cool with me.”

---

in the days following, tomura made it his mission to try to wind dabi up. he wanted to increase the tension between them, and he found in his attempts that the frustrated blush on dabi’s face when he was frustrated was a good look on him. 

he would purposefully brush too far against him in the hallway or the kitchen, be in the kitchen with his thigh-highs on, or just give dabi these looks that he knew he was capable of— only because he had practiced them in the mirror for his streams. and the teasing was working. dabi was wound like a spring, snapping at tomura more often, and tomura would just grin and walk off.

it made him feel powerful, knowing he was doing something to his poor roommate. 

eventually the day came when the stream would take place, and butterflies made their way into tomura’s stomach as he set up the camera and tripod perpendicular to his bed, along with quivers in his legs and gut. and ten minutes before 10 pm, he knocked on dabi’s door and made his way back into his room to sit on his bed.

he put on some beat-heavy background music, easing him into his mood. he wasn’t wearing anything special on the surface this time, just a black thong under his shorts and a hoodie. he knew dabi would eat it up anyway, by the look on his face as he entered the room. he practically billowed steam, eyes lit up like firelight. it was intoxicating the way the other man looked at him. he turned his back, swallowing his embarrassment and adopting his livestream persona. he took a deep breath, moved to his laptop, and started the stream. dabi took his seat on the bed, leaned back on his hands and watching tomura like a hawk.

tomura greeted his returning viewers, and welcomed new ones, before the view count got too high to speak to individually and he addressed the group of them all.

“hey, i’m tomura, this is my roommate dabi, and welcome to tonight’s stream—” he went on to explain the goals this stream, and left the events of the night open to the democracy of his chat.

>> I kinda want to see our boy get ruined… 0////0

>> Agreed!! ^^

>> idk, i think we shud let tomu decide -3-

>> fuck him up dabi

tomura nearly blushed at the influx of comments requesting dabi ‘ruin’ him, and he’d be lying if he said the thought wasn’t getting him wet in his shorts. he chuckled, a fake hollow little thing that the audience would eat up, and quickly looked back at dabi. he was nearly stopped in his tracks at the sight of two neon blue eyes tracing his movement with intensity that had tomura nearly shaking.

“well, folks, i’d say yes but i think i’d like to see you put your money where your mouth is.” it weirdly always paid for him to be upfront. it added to his strange rotten charm as a performer. 

dabi seemed nearly surprised in the background, the white-haired man watching him through the screen of his computer.

“what’re they suggestin’, tomura?” his name out of dabi’s mouth was intimate in this setting, and almost threw tomura off. he turned to face the man, giving another shit-eating grin.

“they wanna see you fuck me.” he was composed and slightly sultry outwardly, but on the inside it felt like a small horde of giant butterflies were currently trying to rattle his ribcage. he was glad he was on medication for his raging anxiety or he wouldn’t have this job, or the chance to fuck his hot roommate. he could feel the tingle in his legs working its way up and toward his core. especially at the look and quiet growl dabi made at tomura’s words.

he prayed to whatever god was listening that someone donated. but in the meantime, he had a show to put on. he turned back to the chat.

>> rile him up, tomu ( •̀ᴗ•́ )و ̑̑

>> ^^^^

and tomura’s own eagerness showed when he immediately followed orders, standing up and making his way over to where dabi was sitting, sliding into his lap just like last time.

“hello again—” tomura cut dabi off before he could even start with a hungry kiss. dabi’s arms immediately went to wrap around tomura’s waist, engulfing it and pulling tomura against the hardness in dabi’s sweatpants.

hot.

ding!

tomura pulled away from the kiss, whipping his head around to look at the screen.

>>> cyncyty Donated $50.00: ride his face ! <<<

tomura’s face turned red, looking to dabi, who was also staring at the donation.

“well, looks like we have a request! thank you... “ tomura didn’t have a clue how to pronounce the username, “so much!” his voice was enthusiastic to hide the shaking in his legs that dabi could no doubt feel as said man gripped his thighs and grinded his hips up, causing tomura to lose his breath.

“you heard em’, hop on.” dabi’s voice was gravelly and tomura could see the desire in his eyes. dabi leaned back on his elbows, still rolling his hips up into tomura.

tomura put on a show in taking his clothes off, as he always tried to do. pulling his hoodie over his head, and removing himself from dabi’s lap to taunt the camera with the straps of his underwear that were visible over the sides of his shorts. he saw dabi strip his shirt in the background as tomura finally pulled his shorts and underwear off after plenty of taunting his audience. and dabi, apparently, because as soon as tomura was in reach, dabi was gripping him by the waist and pulling the white-haired man back-to-front in his lap and attaching his lips to tomura’s neck.

tomura let out a (semi-embarrassing) whine, arching back into his touch, feeling the other man’s erection through his sweatpants. dabi ate it up, sucking another mark into tomura’s neck before laying back and laughing at tomura’s gasp when he thrust up again.

“c’mon babydoll, we don’t have all day.” tomura swore dabi got a power-high from this, evil little glint in his eye telling the white-haired man all he needed to know. either way, there was a reaction in the way that tomura scrambled to position himself with either thigh on the sides of dabi’s head. the camera had a side perspective, getting all of tomura’s expressions as dabi dove in.

dabi had a lot of practice, somewhere, sometime because the way he was working tomura out almost immediately was borderline unfair. tomura snuck a hand into dabi’s hair, yanking and receiving a growl against him for his efforts. tomura ground down against dabi’s magical fuckin’ tongue as he brought his other hand up to muffle himself. that had dabi immediately pulling off of him to look up at him, blue eyes meeting red, as if waiting for something.

“they gotta hear you baby, ain’t that the whole point?” tomura could hear his smirk but obeyed anyway, putting his other hand in dabi’s hair and pulling him back to where he wanted him.

ding!

>>> cmrbbg Donated $110.00: Fuck him silly, Make him cry. <<<

tomura looked over to the laptop, blissed out look in his eye, only to see his highest returning donator once again blow everyone else out of the water. tomura rolled his hips against the warmth of dabi’s mouth before pulling away, sliding down and letting dabi sit up.

but before tomura could say anything, dabi said it for him.

“god, fuckin’ thank you—” was his only warning before dabi was manhandling him into quite an embarrassing position, face down ass up on his own bed before he could even say ‘shit’. dabi had him by his hips, forcing his back into quite the impressive arch. 

dabi grabbed the lube from tomura’s bedside table and slicked his fingers up, one entering with no resistance. he added another, earning a breathy sigh from tomura. he curled his fingers upwards, locating that little spot inside him that made tomura’s hips rock against him.

“god, you’re so pretty like this, y’know?” dabi breathed out, words deep and damn near confectionary. tomura wasn’t used to compliments, burying his head into his arms. dabi scissored his fingers.

“you are. you’re glowin’, baby. so perfect like this, gonna take me so good. you’re gorgeous.” the last bit was whispered, the mic not picking it up as tomura blushed down to his shoulders. his arch deepened, legs spreading a bit more as dabi added a third finger. it was accompanied by a pitiful moan that failed to be muffled by tomura’s arms. finally, dabi deemed him ready— or he was just done with this torment, as tomura heard clothes rustling and the slick sound of the lube. tomura didn’t turn around, only swaying his hips from side to side coyly as he knew the audience liked.

he felt those hot hands grip his hips again, and he felt hot pressure against his entrance. dabi grinded his cock against him, not entering as another form of torture that teh white-haired man  was fed up with.

“you know what to do, tomura.” the words were commanding and taunting at the same time, the tone making tomura hot as dabi massaged his thighs. tomura tried to push back against dabi, grinding back and making the other man suck his breath in.

“you’re not gettin’ nothin’ unless you ask nicely, i know you know how to, baby.” dabi murmured, tracing his hand along the dip in tomura’s spine. the touch was so gentle, so intimate, that it had tomura spilling his pride and his words for this man yet again.

“please,” he panted out, nearly biting his hand out of embarrassment due to his whiny tone.

“please what?”

“please fuck me, please—” and with a shock that shot straight up his spine, he felt dabi enter him all at once. he made an awful squawking noise, nearly folding in on himself. dabi stayed where he was for a moment, tapping on tomura’s hip to check in on him. tomura nodded, and dabi began his violent thrusts. tomura felt every slide of metal and hot flesh against his inside, feeling split open on the other man’s cock. the rubbing against his insides scratched an itch, satisfied an ache, and he could feel himself getting lost in it. his moans were muffled into his arms as his eyes damn near rolled to the back of his head, eyes half-lidded and full of lust.

dabi suddenly, grabbed him by his hair and wrapped a hand under his chest and pulled his up, throwing him off guard. a new angle hit a spot inside tomura he didn’t even know he had, and he let out a loud gasp as dabi continued to plow that spot inside him. tomura felt a pressure building up in his gut.

“fuck— dabi, god, please—” tomura babbled, “god, i can feel it.”

dabi let out a breathy chuckle, nosing along tomura’s shoulders, moving to hold him up by a vice grip on his elbows.

“close, close, please—” 

and with that, dabi dropped tomura onto the bed, roughly pulling out and leaving tomura to face-plant into the pillows.

tomura looked around at him with murder in his eyes. dabi only grinned, leaning over tomura and flipping him over on his back. dabi took tomura’s hands, placing them above his head.

“keep em’ there or it’s over,” dabi threatened, despite the fact that he felt like he would die if he didn’t have tomura right there with him. tomura was heating up and his brain felt like jello already, his orgasm staved off by the drop of his gut from the surprise faceplant.

dabi re-entered, this time agonizingly slow. tomura tried to wriggle his hips, but dabi just held them in his iron hot grip. they had honestly forgotten about the camera at this point, too caught up in the flush of their hips as dabi finally pushed all the way inside. they started up again, rocking their hips together with enough momentum that the impact was nearly bruising at the spots of touch. tomura’s pillowy thighs helped with that, despite his boney nature.

the drag of heat from his cunt to the look that dabi was giving him, in addition to the buildup of one orgasm with no relief had tomura getting close again already.

“please, can i cum? i’ve been good, i’ll be good—”

“god, you have no idea how good you sound right now. you’re so hot, tomura. beg me again, just like that?” dabi’s grin was awful and shit-eating, but tomura had lost all pride, only focused on the slap of their hips and the melting of his own mind.

“dabi! dabi, please— let me cum, god—” and as much as dabi wanted to give it to him, he still pulled out. he had a job to do, and with the way tomura was wriggling in frustration, whimpering like a bitch in heat, dabi could do this all day.

he had to make tomura cry. and with the look on the other man’s face, he wasn’t far off. wide, glassy eyes, a grimace and upturned brows. all he needed was the tears. so he sat, and he waited while tomura squirmed. each time tomura would try to take initiative, dabi would grab his hips to stop his movements, and tomura had yet to disobey him about moving his arms. it was so hot to have control over someone who usually gave him so much shit.

tomura started begging again, and dabi eventually had to give in, piledriving his cock into the man below him. and with a few particularly deep thrusts, tomura threw his head back as a tear ran down his face. his moans were more like quiet and breathless sobs at this point, so eager and so ready. so dabi sped up, slamming into the boy harder and harder. tomura’s words sped up and broke apart until they were just small little groans of “dabi”, “please”, and “fuck”. it was amusing that dabi really had fucked him silly. tears escaped tomura’s gorgeous red eyes, rolling down his red cheeks and bringing dabi so much closer to the edge.

tomura’s arms finally moved and came to grip at dabi’s biceps. dabi allowed it because the boy probably needed something to ground himself with. dabi decided to show the poor boy mercy, reaching down with his thumb to circle the boys swollen clit and leaned down to murmur in his ear.

“cum for me, pretty boy,” and tomura was undone. a cry, a gasp and a visceral physical reaction, and he was clenching around dabi as he came so hard he saw stars.

it wasn’t long for dabi, pulling out and cumming on tomura’s stomach with a groan, panting as he felt tomura still holding on to his arms. dabi sat back for a moment to catch his breath before approaching the laptop, still nude.

“well, i hope you enjoyed. gonna go take care of our resident star, and i’ll be seeing you guys next time.” dabi murmured a quick goodbye to the audience, shutting off the livestream and turning off the computer. dabi didn’t know how to turn off the equipment, that was just something tomura would have to fuck with once he came back to the land of the living. dabi went off to retrieve a rag and some water, coming back to tomura staring at the ceiling.

“you with me, baby?” dabi sat back on the bed, using the rag to gently clean tomura up, before cleaning himself up and throwing the rag on the floor to be dealt with later (gross). he motioned the water bottle to tomura, which he happily gulped down.

“jesus, yeah. that was—” tomura cut off, shaking his head. “can you get my hoodie for me? and some regular underwear. i can’t fuckin’ walk, freakshow. you did me in.” tomura griped, and dabi went to fulfill the request, throwing on his own boxers. and to his own surprise,tomura grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him down onto the bed and wrapping himself around dabi like some sort of koala. 

“stay,” was all tomura said.

and so dabi did.