#fuck tags im intoxicated and exhausted

[schizo-fag]

One the one hand i love resident evil

On the other hand hate having no control over how I’m portrayed as a character/being/individual

[jjkeremika]

AoT Fic / Oneshot Master List

~~welcome to jjkeremika~~

hi! i’m mako. welcome to my obsession. i write fics/headcanons/oneshots/imagines/drabbles/whatevertheyarecalled/ihonestlydontknow; mostly smutty/nsfw heheh.

currently i write about: eren x mikasa; AoT x reader; eren x reader; reiner x reader; levi x reader; armin x reader; but im open to others (mostly fem!reader, some gender neutral)

please click the underlined for the link to the work (tumblr; ao3); master list updated periodically; all fics created on this master list are written by jjkeremika (me); all of my works are connected under the tag jjkeremika; interactions with and/or thoughts on works are appreciated <3

assume smut/nsfw/mdni themes unless noted otherwise with *

hope you enjoy!

p.s… (per requests….worth asking, also worth noting i prefer and try to stick to character personalities and reasonable headcanons; if i can’t picture them saying/doing it i might not explore it…. fluffy/smutty accepted… not a “dead dove dne” friendly space…)

Eremika:

fucking in a sauna (It is hot (with you; love you))

mikasa gets sick (Stay pt1, pt2)*

Moments (Express Divine Devotion)*

mikasa sneaks out (Moonlight)

eren has a vision (Just like i dreamt it)

eren eats mikasa out (Tasty)

eren and mikasa secretly meet (secret)

eren calls jean while fucking mikasa (Big Time)

eren overhears mikasa (loud in my life and in my dreams)

mikasa tutors eren (my tutor pt1; pt2)

eren’s mikasa’s professor (drop my class so i can pick you up pt1; pt2)

another eren professor pt1 (thanks for coming professor pt1)*; pt2 (to be posted soon)

eren’s scout commander, mikasa’s a new recruit pt1 (think i need someone older)*; pt2 (posted soon)

mikasa shows eren how she had sex with jean (just show me)

eren’s a spy/assassin and mikasa’s his target’s daughter (to my poison: my god you’re intoxicating)*

like an actual eremika fanfic (when lightning strikes the heart (pts 00-02)) (* thus far)

roadtrip (pt1; pt2)

mikasa’s mother is sick (lavender)*

eren’s a baker

Formula One au (Ferrari driver! Eren; Ferrari Mechanic! Mikasa)

AoT x reader:

Rough intimacy (Eren, Mikasa, Hange, Levi, Reiner, Jean)

Soft intimacy (Connie, Erwin, Bertoldt, Armin, Zeke)

Favorite places (Eren, Armin, Jean, Reiner, Erwin, Levi, Bertoldt, Connie, Zeke)

Date nights (Here to Forever; Eren, Armin, Jean, Reiner, Erwin, Zeke, Porco, Historia)

Hit on you in class (Eren, Jean, Reiner, Armin, Porco, Levi, Connie, Erwin) *

Another rough intimacy (Reiner, Jean, Eren, Erwin, Levi)

Favorite positions (Eren, Reiner, Levi, Porco, Erwin)

crushes on you (Reiner, Eren, Levi, Porco, Jean)*

walk in on you touching yourself (Eren, Jean, Armin, Levi, Erwin, Colt)

fluffy moments (Eren, Reiner, Levi, Erwin)*

confess love for you (Eren, Reiner, Porco, Zeke, Armin, Bertoldt, Levi, Erwin)(mostly * except eren)

vices (eren, levi, reiner, armin, zeke, jean)

pervy pussy eaters (eren, levi, reiner, armin)

asking you on a valentines date*

what they don’t know (eren, erwin, levi, connie)

excited and exhausted (erwin, sasha, armin, hange, levi)

Eren x reader:

Games

dangerous missions*

ha(u)nted soldier*

Betting Games (pt2)

Reiner x reader:

Shower together

Levi x reader:

peanut butter kisses

goofy (pt1; pt2; pt3; pt4)

Armin x reader:

campgrounds and fairs (tbp)

love gambler (tbp)

[staarboyyy]

unexpected morning - chapter ii [ prev. ]

thomas shelby x gender neutral reader | specified anatomy

18+ characters / scenarios - minors dni

tags / warnings ; smoking, fluff, morning sex, oral sex, power imbalance, overstimulation, reluctant feels, thomas shelby please have emotions?? please?? LMAO, irresponsible beta read we die like real men

summary ; thomas warms you up on a cold morning in the office.

word count ; 2.5k

a/n ; yaaall im so sorry this took so long! requests will be open soon <3 love u all, thank you so much for the support!

     The morning started as any other would - A strike of a match, a sip of whiskey here and there, and keeping the curtains shut despite the assaulting sunlight. Thomas' temples pulsed, heart flooding his ears as his thumbs rubbed the aching space, elbows resting on his desk. He glared down at the neat stack of papers, cursing himself for organizing everything simply to avoid actually reading through them all. In truth, he drank far too much last night. It coated his teeth, breath burning with expensive liquor as he grunted his way from bed.

     Where had you gone? The few hours after the events of the night prior gave way for many opportune moments to escape; Flee in the dark, tell the secrets you learned in sharp whispered turned toward your family. And yet as he watched you leave in the warm morning sun caught his breath. He could not put to words the affect your body had on him, simultaneously intoxicating and ruthelessly sobering. Come to your fucking senses, Thomas.

     The fire still crackled quietly as you turned, holding your folded jacket over your bare chest as he approached you slowly, lips slightly ajar. Thomas dawned his undershirt, buttons loosely undone, sleeves rolled up and suspenders pulled tight over his wide shoulders. His slacks were wrinkled, unbuttoned, hair ruffled. Surely he had to know how he practically oozed sex appeal, ciggarette hung between his index and middle finger as he sauntered closer. You could nearly feel his breath against your own when his steps came to a stop, eyes gliding over your shifting expression.

He watched you slide your clothes over your bare skin, back turned toward him as you dressed yourself quietly. You were careful to collect your things, move them closer towards the door to silently redress yourself and scramble home - Maybe leave a note? You were unsure, hand swimming amongst the fabric of your thick jacket. You could leave a note, though he had enough papers on his desk already; Perhaps a sketch? Your ridiculous yet compelling idea was cut off as the shift of the wooden panels beneath your feet shifted, steps padding toward you in a slow practiced manner.

     "Terribly cold this early in the morning." Thomas murmured faintly, voice crackling with the veil of exhaustion that still shackled him. The sun had hardly passed through the clouds that stuffed the morning sky, clogging the sunrise with a thick shadow. The light in the room shifted, the sun caked in pillowed clouds. He was right. You were awfully cold. Steadily, you dropped the coat from your hands - You hadn't gotten far in getting dressed, only able to pull on your underwear and socks before Thomas caught you. Was that correct to feel like you had been caught? You wondered how long he'd been watching.

     "Are you cold, Mr.Shelby?" You asked, hands reaching forward for your palms to meet his chest. It was sturdy, his eyes following yours, blinking slowly as his arms moved to instinctually draw you closer. One arm hooked around your middle, the other that still held the ciggarette over your shoulder. With a shake of his head, his palm rubbed your back in small circles. It was warm, thawing the rising goosebumps that gardened over your body.

     Your heart pounded as you pressed against him. Just his touch was enough to send swimming waves of new sensations through you. You wanted his touch  - wanted to cling to him in a way that was almost desperate. But the warmth he offered was not the only kind you wanted; You wanted to burn. You wanted his fire, his passion, his heat. You wanted to feel his teeth and his nails. You wanted him to consume your meaning, take your mind and bend it to something you could never begin to imagine.

     He was more dangerous now to you than ever. No amount of guns, no explosions or bloodshed would quite tear you down as much as the look in his eyes in this moment. Recognition. Understanding. It felt real, you wanted so badly for it to all be real, to be - In love. To try, atleast.

     You should have run the moment he set his eyes on you. Far away, further than he could ever find you.

     He took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke clouding his expression as he leaned forward, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. You shied away from the sudden contact, but he only pulled you closer.

    “Come here.” His voice was rough with exhaustion, yet still commanded a cold respect. You could feel yourself being drawn in ever-closer to his warmth, his strength, his presence. You couldn’t help but lean into it; To yearn for it. The cigarette dangled casually from his lips, a small puff of ash falling to the floor before he plucked it, flicking it away from you in a quiet movement. He didn't even bother to glance where it landed as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

    You were trapped within the grasp of desire, both the desire to run and the desire to give in. To fall from the world, let it slide away as his hands caught your hips, unwavering and strong. He didn't need to stronger and bigger than you, there was no threat. You didn’t need to be afraid. His lips were gentle, tasting of smoke and whiskey. You pressed back, feeling a burst of heat racing throughout your body; His lips tasted the same as the night prior, yet the gentleness of his pace was in stark contrast to it. In a slow shift, your hands gripped the loose collar of his shirt, keeping him close. He took slow breaths between the slow kiss, eyes lulling open to admire you in a half lidded gaze before letting the fall shut, leaning in once more. It was nearly like he was fighting himself; His urges, how they so tightly clutched his mind, binding him to you like an altar, worshipping you with his hands as they fell and swept over your curves.

     The kiss enraptured you, and then it was gone. His hands remained on you, coming to a slow pause on your hips as his eyes darted to meet yours - Thomas Shelby didn't hesitate, so why now? You pursed your lips slightly, as if trying to relive the feeling of his own pressing against them.

    "This evening, Charles Alabastor will be having a private party at his estate; I'd like you to accompany me. Seeing as your family will be invited."

    Your throat dried - Business. There was always the bitter tang of it, lingering the sips of whiskey and rough drags of rolled tobacco. Even you could feel it, wishing to kiss every inch of that taste, relieve him from the weight of it. Though you knew all too well, even as his palm held your cheek, patience would surely reward you.

     "I'm not sure I have anything to wear."

      There it was again, the small buckle of praise pulling at the corners of his lips as his hand swept from your cheek towards your collar bone. The backs of his fingers were cold, gently brushing over your warm skin as he gave a low shake of his head.

     "You're unsure about quite a bit."

     Had Thomas Shelby just mused at you? You nearly couldn't belive it. The man who ran Birmingham stood with you in the dark of his office, hair ruffled and a smile on his face - Playfully bickering with you? You couldn't help but mirror the expression, eyes darting down to the floor with a quiet sigh. Maybe that comment had been a last ditch effort to get away, a final subconscious excuse to not to fall; And if you did fall, atleast do it while running, not in his arms, urging for him to become impossibly closer to your body.

    It was a feeble attempt.

    "I may have something."

    "Something is good."

     He was a quick one. The more you spoke, the more he did in turn, bouncing from your energy without missing a beat in that cold voice. The draft of his tone came with the presence of his smile, warming the corners of his words as his hands pressed to your hips once again, pulling you closer. You caught yourself then - You wanted to know him. To know what makes him tick, how he takes his tea, who he loves and cherishes, who he'd die for. Was it so wrong? You could see it, somewhere beneath the surfaces of his sharp gaze, to be wanted. Or maybe just held. Perhaps that would do for now, you thought.

     Thomas accepted your head leaning against his chest, holding you to his body now with a slow sway. It felt almost like dancing, the creak of the floorboards underfoot making way for a deep symphony, rooting itself in your mind as you matched his pace. Intimacy, the only word you could use to describe the moment as your bare chest pressed to his, your heartbeat rushing in tune. Percussions crashed as you lifted your head, love letters written themselves in your mind, sealed when your lips met his once more. He accepted this as well, eyes falling shut and fingers instinctively slipping to your thighs. He squeezed slowly, taking his time to feel you, understand how you moved against him - This is why he waited. Thomas wanted to experience you.

     Your heart thrummed as his grasp pulled you towards his now moving body, stepping backwards and leading you to his bedroom - It was small, a temporary place to sleep during late nights at the office, yet none of it mattered as your back met the mattress. You swallowed, throat drying at the sight of his back turned to you, closing the door with one hand and shrugging off his suspenders with the other. His shoulders were wide, the white undershirt tightening over his body as he pulled his over his head, dropping it carelessly to the floor as he turned. His gaze met yours in a silent beat, eyes lulling over your body, savoring it's vulnerable pose - And in a slow movement, he was on the floor before you. It felt wrong, reversed; Yet even as he knelt before you, he was in control. As his fingers worked your stockings down your legs, stark blue eyes pinning you to the spot as his rough palms groped over your thighs. You watched, legs opening for him slightly with a hitched breath, cheeks flushing. Last night, he hadn't gotten this close, this intimate - Yet as he pushed a warm kiss to the inside of your thigh, it began to melt away. His tongue slid greedily over the skin, teeth nipping as he traveled lower, going to gently rub your heat over your underwear with his thumb. He moved in slow circles, pressing into the cotton as his teeth sunk into your flesh with a quiet groan. You shuddered quietly, hips rocking into his thumb as your eyes stayed on his expression - It was as if work never existed. Business was a waste of time in comparison to simply tasting you. The budding warmth of his tongue replaced his thumb, soaking the underwear with a teasing chuckle. It was unexpected, riddled with a distinct darkness, his teeth pulling at the waistband - It was slow. Agonizingly slow as he pulled down steadily, keeping his eyes on yours until your damp underwear hit the floor.

     Thomas' mouth was always warm when he kissed you, yet the heat that spread through your veins as he pressed his lips to your clit, a fire began to light itself deep within you. Your back arched instinctually, body shifting over the mans creaking mattress as you attempted to draw him closer to you. Your hands slid over his shoulders, threading through his hair as you sighed softly, content with the tease of what was to come. His tongue began slowly at first, the flat of it sliding obscenely between your folds as a pace that demanded your absolute attention. You could feel the tip of his tongue prod lightly against your entrance, dragging it until it reached your clit once again, lips wrapping over it with a pleased hum. You took in a sharp breath, hips flinching as your legs made a weak attempt to close them, the feeling of him edging closer to a sparking pleasure you knew all too well. But not even a moment after you moved, his large hand came to palm at your thigh, pinning it down roughly to the bed; His eyes were closed, focused on the taste of you on his now lashing tongue, other arm hooking over your opposite hip to keep you in place despite your growing writhing.

    The fire grew, each whip of his tongue against your clit stoking the insatiable flames that knashed at your body. It was electric. Nearly impossible. New to you, the sensation of a man like him knelt before you, messily lapping up anything you were willing to give him, letting your arousal run down his chin and jaw. The noises he drew from you were angelic, sliding through the fogging air as sweat dewed on Thomas' brow; In contrast, the sound of his tongue invading your body and mind was obscene. Messy, saliva stringing from his full lips as he groaned deeply against your sensitive body. The fire sparked dangerously, hot coals threatening to spill over the edges of what you could control - It would set the whole city ablaze, surely. You gave a sharp yelp as his fingers moved to spread you open, diving as deeply as you would allow him, tongue darting in and out as you wrenched your eyes shut tightly. It was a hot white flash, body and mind numbing as Thomas moaned on, perhaps even murmuring to himself into your soaked cunt as you came on his lips and tongue, rolling your hips with a drawn out mewl.

     A strike of a match brought you to, eyes sliding open quickly as sweat rolled down your temple - Though upon seeing Thomas beside the rather empty bed you relaxed yourself slightly. Glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, a book sat open on his naked lap as his eyes fell to yours; You must have fallen into that blanketing heat, letting it drape over your shoulders in something near an embrace. The chaste expression on Thomas' face was soft, lacing in his furrowed brow as he moved to pull his glasses from his nose. He set them on the small desk in front of him, using his palms to rise from the wooden seat with a quiet grunt. Making his way to you came with a wave of smoke, the smell of his aftershave sharp on your senses as he took a slow seat beside you.

     "I found the perfect thing for you to wear."

     It was not a request anymore - Hesitantly, you felt yourself give a slight nod as his large hand came to hold your cheek. He mirrored the motion, nodding back to you as his thumb met your chin, lifting your head to find your gaze in the quiet moment.

"Will you accompany me?"

As Thomas spoke your hand met his, fingers intertwining with a soft hum - You wanted so badly to feel it. To step into a room by Thomas' side, dawning clothing perfectly made for you, eyes glued to the pair of you as he wore a smugly proud expression. Yet you knew deep down what it was, and what it had to remain; Business. Though dwelling in your imagination pillowed with the feeling of his lips on your own drew a response.

"Of course."

[chuuyasheaven]

“You look pretty in red, really.”

Notes: If you saw that one reblog, then you get it. (it was supposed to be about Dazai) but I miss my wife :(

Tags/TW: Chuuya Nakahara / fem!Reader, sub!Chuuya, dom!Reader, men in lingerie, short make-out sesh, dicc riding, probably bad grammar and lazy, petnames (f! and m!receiving), slight teasing?, praising kink (both ways), playin’ w/ his nipples!, porn w/out *any* plot, ooc!Chuuya, etc.

He was embarrassed, kind of pissed but embarrassed.

How couldn’t he be?

The things Chuuya does for you are crazy..

That’s why he was standing in front of you, in a dark red lingerie. It was pretty see-through, but it hugged his waist almost to perfectly..

“This is fucking ridiculous.”, Chuuya growled.

“It’s not. In fact, you look pretty in red, really.”, you said, he was truly beautiful like this. He was like a princess, your princess.

Chuuya was shooting you a glare, showing how stupid he thinks this is, but you just patted next you, signaling him to sit down. So he did.

You turned to him, sneakily placing your hand on his muscular thigh. “You should wear these more often, they look sexy on you, Chuuya..”, as if he wasn’t red earlier from embarrassment, now it was caused by you.

Getting closer to him you place a kiss on his lips, slowly positioning on his lap, he was starting to lose his composure.

Trying to resist, Chuuya fails, miserable even. “S-slow down, there’s no— mph!..baby, please listen just— mph-..fuck it.”, he gave up, just kissing back and giving into your intoxicated kisses.

He was completely fine with making out with you, but when you started to play with his nipples through his lingerie, he started to whimper.

“Oh, who knew that nipples are your ‘sweet spot’, hm?”, you teased, but Chuuya just kept on kissing you, hungrily.

Guessing he didn’t want you to stop, you continued as he also started to hold your waist. “—M-more, please..”, your boyfriend begged, more like whisper, into your ear as a form of desperation.

“You want more, baby? What you’d like me to do?”, you asked, waiting for his order.

“Ride me, p-please, I need it, princess..”, why deny him if he’s asking so nicely? So why not?

Getting rid of your bottoms, you get rid of his panties, setting his needy cock free, already leaking.

Placing yourself on top of him, slamming your body down on him, feeling himself enter Chuuya felt a wave of pleasure go through his body, which resolved into his cock twitching inside you.

“—Ah! F-fuck, feels so fuckin’ good, angel..”, he moaned, letting you know how sensitive he was right now.

“Such a good boy for me, aren’t you, darling?”, you praised him as you started to move a bit faster, wanting his cock to fill you up, also losing your dominance slightly.

“Faster, princess, I-i know you can..”, Chuuya said, trying to get his composure back.

You did speed up on your movements, which also made you find your sweet spot and hitting it repeatedly.

Now the both of you were getting close, dropping a few praises each and ‘I love you’s. This was so fucking euphoric, almost too damn heavenly.

It came crashing to Chuuya first, then you. It was quite intense, but who cares?

You got off his cock and laid beside him. He was still panting, but you giggled to yourself quietly.

“— Oh my, is my little princess exhausted?”

IM CLOSE TO 1k MEANING I WILL OPEN UP A EVENT SOON !! STAY TUNED GUYS !!! (ALSO TYSM) 🏃🏾‍♀️

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey honey! Could I get an extremely wild NSFW with Daemon x Martell/dornish reader. Where she is extremely bold and has fame to rival his and at first she doesn't like him, but he is willing to do it She changes her mind about him (and he does) as they spend time together she ends up realizing he's not that bad, thus forming a solid friendship, but the sexual tension and mutual desire between them is extremely strong (almost palpable) then one night while they are spending quality +

Killing Me Softly

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Reader

Summary: Daemon, as unopposed as he was to be forced into a marriage so that he would no longer disrupt the matters of the crown, he found himself wanting nothing else but to marry the Lady Martell

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: physically abusive!daemon, fem!reader, reader injures daemon, they're both really toxic to each other, literally opens with smut [daemon takes liberties with intoxicated reader, manhandling, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, vaginal penetration, name calling, pulling out, breeding kink], fuck buddies to/& enemies (to lovers ?), i describe reader's hair, i name reader's sister, idk asoiaf lore so I just made stuff up, typos, etc.

A/N: another day another 5K+ smut MINORS DNI. it's hard being a simp [sigh] i put the second part of your ask below the gif cos i wanna see matty's stupid face when i get notes lol, but dont be deceived by it his cutesy face, this fic aint cutesy at all RIP. ok so i did research about the martell fam and i found out they're referred to as prince/princess because of a Targaryen ancestor that comes along long after daemon's existence and i almost made her a princess BONK let's just pretend i know what im doing. i took liberties on your prompt btw anon, i found the idea of writing another enemies to lovers exhausting which was why it took a while for me to get back to you. i think it came out a lot darker and there's a lot of mind fuckery involved. i hope you still like it. Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda

Daemon grunts and grabs my brownish blonde hair, coiling the curls around his hand has he maneuvers my head back and forth.

"Just like that," he urges and I grip his thighs for dear life.

Daemon leans against the wall as his hips involuntarily thrust into me. It was nothing I couldn't handle, not when I was used to it, and his particularly selfish desires. However, even after all his brutalizations, my jaw still cannot keep up with him nor can my lungs.

I let out a muffled sound when he hits the back of my throat. I feel myself gag around him and tears water my eyes as it get harder to breathe. I try to pull away but he is too greedy with my mouth, and has me locked in his grip by my hair.

I pound on his thigh, and his eyes that he screwed shut finally open.

He pants as he pulls me off him. A string of saliva drips down from my lips and I look up at him in annoyance. My insult comes out strangled and hoarse, "selfish prick."

Daemon smirks as he watches me get to my feet. I wipe the wetness of my lips off. He grabs me, and pushes my chest up against the wall. His hands claw and bunch up my skirt as he breathes against my ear, "you act as though I do not reward you for your service."

His hands make their way to my dripping heat, and we both hiss when he begins his ministrations on me.

"Is it a reward if you're only paying me my dues for what you so desperately begged to get?" I mutter through strained breathing.

I lean against him and reach for his neck behind me.

He pushes me off, dragging me to the side up until I was leaning against the open window. He grabs my hair again, my hands instinctively dart to it. I moan when he slowly enters me. I hear him pant as he begins to thrust. He pushes my skirt farther up as to get a better hold on my hip, "maybe you should ask your devotees what they think?"

"Daemon," I groan in gratification as he rams into me.

He hums. His chest rises and falls before he chuckles, "they're not gonna hear who's fucking you good when they're not if you don't pipe up."

I squeal when he releases my hair and places all his vigor into the flicking of his hips. I dig my fingers into the stone opening for dear life, just as he digs into my sides. The pain of his grip intensifies the pleasure rising in my core.

"Daemon," I grunt, "yes, yes, harder!"

Daemon is half-amused, half-breathless, "needy bitch."

He does not disappoint though. As much as he takes, he gives back, if only to prove a point of his manhood.

I let out a struggled and broken cry when he lifts my torso up closer to him and slams into my sweet spot. My knees can barely keep my standing as my feet lift and crash from the ground. My arms helping to push me up begin to shake when I feel my orgasm near.

"Fuck," I drag out breathily, "I'm so fucking close, Daemon."

He grunts and gracelessly shoves me back down. Had my arms not already been out, I would have slammed my head into the fucking rock. I whimper in pain, but have no time to tell him off as I am busy chasing my high.

"COME ON!" he growls.

Three thrusts in then I'm coming all over him. I let out the loudest and lewdest sound I could muster. It hikes up and down in volume because of his pounding.

In the middle of it all, he pulls out and leans against me. He is still heavily catching breath when I stir beneath him and turn over. Once I am sitting on the sill, Daemon pushes between my legs and rests against me. I tense at his affection and push him away, giving him a stern look, "did you fucking come on my dress again?"

Daemon's features harden upon hearing this.

"This would be the fourth dress you've ruined, you vile cretin."

"It's not like you make sport of reusing your garments anyway."

"Because you keep staining them!" I quip.

He lets out an annoyed breath as he moves off me, roughly fixing himself in his trousers.

I roll my eyes at him and flatten my bunched skirt. Once I was all sorted out, I call out to both sides of the hall, "if anyone's there, you can pass now."

Daemon eyes me darkly as he finishes tying his breeches.

Just then, one of the younger maids squeak and hurriedly makes her way down the hall with her head hung low.

I release a sigh as I get to my feet twisting back to see the damage he's done on my burnt sienna dress.

"It's not that bad."

I see the blot on the fabric and groan in annoyance. "Not that bad?!" I seethe, shoving him on his chest.

Daemon still manages to find it in him to chuckle.

"Now I have to have someone wipe that off."

"Or," he reaches out to me, "we can go have a hot ba-"

I swat him away.

Daemon's expression changes drastically, "bitch."

"Addict," I spit.

"Hussy," he grabs my jaw.

"Dick," I shove him off me with so much force he is actually surprised when he shoots back, nails grazing my face in the process. With that, I scream my servant's name as I storm down the hall.

Daemon watches as the sound of heels clicking fills his ears.

It was a relief that I found Audrey quickly, and that she managed to remove the traces of the prince on my dress as I removed traces of him on my skin.

Once I looked like the lady I was, face painted, shiny hair styled just the way I like it, and not utterly fucked and manhandled, I make my way down to the festivities in our dining hall.

My lips curve up when I feel the room shift its attention to me when I walk in. I bask in the attention, rolling my shoulders back as I caress the large diamond on my sternum, drawing even more attention to the plunging neckline of my dress.

The crowd parts for me as I make it across the room, heading for the seat at the head of the table that was prepared for me. I pay no one regard as they nod and greet me. Why would I?

Halfway through, I see him rip through the crowd toward me. Daemon gives me a boyish grin and extends his hand out to me. I release a breath at the look upon his face and take his hand.

"Beloved," he mutters, eyes fixed on me as he places a kiss on the back of my hand.

I forfeit a response to his performance, but cannot withhold my surprised chuckle when he spins me around and pulls my back flush against his chest.

"Your servant is truly a miracle worker," he mutters against my ear.

I scoff at his words, knowing he saw missing stain on my skirt.

The crowd intently watches our display and I let out a genuine laugh when I pull away from him, "and you a truly a menace, my prince."

The two of us then make our way to our seats at the table. The moment we do, music begins to play and people head off to the center of the room to dance.

Daemon sits to my left, leaning back with an indifference to it all. He is bored of it, and was only here because I told him to be. He reaches his hand to my skirt from under the table. I let him draw shapes on me with this fingers. I could not care less.

I watch the people make merry before me. I watch them step and twirl to the sound of the music. I smile although my chest constricts as I recall a time in my life when I was as carefree as the atmosphere.

I turn to Daemon, bored still. He was the personification of my cynicism, the marker of my truth: I existed only for duty.

We both turn to my right when my name is called out.

And here she was, our youngest, my pretty sister; a beacon of light that reminded me everything I was no longer. I smiled at her as she went my side. She leans down to kiss my cheek and I offer her the same sentiment as she greets us both.

"Sister," she smiles, "Prince Daemon."

"Lady Castella," Daemon offers a small smile. His fingers continue to absentmindedly draw on me.

"I want to introduce someone to you," she inhales deeply as she pulls a grin on her face.

Two men then walk over to the table, and I instantly find some recognition of the old man. The sight of him makes my face contort in contempt.

"Sister," Castella lets out a breath as she extends her hand out, "Lord Michael Yronwood and his son, Lord Perros."

"The Ladies Martell," the balding man wags his wrinkly jowls then turns to the man beside me, "Prince Daemon Targaryen."

I scoff at his greeting and straighten myself up.

My sister stiffens beside me as I watch the boy great all of us individually.

"At least you have proper manners," I say to Perros as he raises his head up after bowing.

Daemon holds back his laugh.

Before I could remark at the stink eye the elder Yronwood was giving me, my sister catches my attention with her words, "this is the man I have been telling you about."

I turn to her in disbelief, "the Yronwood boy?"

Castella licks her pink lips before nibbling on it nervously.

I idly turn back to the thing that won my sister's favor. I take in his thick, dark hair, wondering when he will begin to bald like his father. I take in the broadness of his shoulders, wondering when he shall need a shabby cane as well. I take in the eagerness and restlessness of his expression and measure it against the sardonic expression of the old man beside him.

"Is it true that you write my sister poems?"

Perros freezes. His father beside him eyes him hotly.

We all look onto the man caught off guard and my patience quickly runs dry over his silence. I allow him a few more seconds, but he does not pipe up to even stutter like the lost child he is.

"Clearly he is too stupid to even utter a word to me," I turn to my sister.

"I beg your pardon," the boy's father quips as he leans on his cane.

"No," I raise my brows at him, "I will not pardon you, Lord Yronwood." I turn to my sister, "what has-"

"It is clear you cannot breed the whore out of someone, even with Martell seed," the geezer scoffs, "I should have your tongue for your insolence."

I turn to him with furrowed brows. My sister's jaw hangs low. Daemon shoots out of his chair, causing it to fall back with a thud and make the entire room go silent.

That is what it takes for him to realize his mistake. The hot glare of the prince renders his ugly face uncomfortable. He grabs his son by the arm, "I knew this was a mistake."

I hear my sister whimper beside me as Perros struggles against his father. He manages to pull away without injuring his raggedy hand and snaps at him, "What you did was a mistake. I love her, father!"

"Her mother is a whore!"

The sound of my laughter draws everyone's attention to me. Their eyes are blown, shocked, disturbed, and it amuses me further, excites me that my breath leaves me even quickly.

When my sister places a hand on my shoulder, a knowing gesture to my knowing actions, I swat her away and calm myself.

Daemon watches me, watches how my face ticks.

"Yes, oh you caught us," I utter as my breath evens out, "my mother was born, raised, and worked in a brothel before her hypnotizing cunt ensnared my poor daddy, the Lord Martell."

I raise my voice when the gremlin thinks to interrupt me, "AND YOU THINK TO LEAVE..." I lean against the table, "leave out the best part!" I smile, "she was a bastard of the Lannisters."

I chuckle again, flipping my golden hair back, "not that there's any proof to that," I tilt my head offering a wicked smile, "and yet, here you are. Under the roof of the late whore's home, submitting to her whore spawn because your son fell for the whore's daughter,"

I stand to my feet, "the Lady Castella of house fucking Martell."

I hear the shuffling of the guards from the side, who had been on edge ever since the music. I hear one of them call to me. I knew it was Aleksander, and I knew he was ready to kill for me.

I smirk.

The crows stirs.

The Yronwoods begin to stiffen in panic.

"You are outranked, outnumbered, and fucking ugly," I break into a laugh. I gesture upwards, "I am only now recalling why I am so pissed by the sight of your monstrosity. Were you not the same Yronwood that tried to marry off the same pawn to me not long ago?"

I turn to his son, breaking yet again into another laugh.

Daemon shifts in his spot, smiling to himself as he watches me on his side.

"And this was after you made issue of the charity I give the peasants. A farce, you said, to give back to the less fortunate."

"Perros," my sister's calls. My eye twitches at it. It cuts off my anger briefly. I narrow my eyes at the said man. How good could his dick be?

Michael Yronwood although rendered speechless, arrogantly kept his head high. His son, Perros, could do nothing but hang his head low in shame as my sister looked out to him.

I heave and feel anger rise at the sound of my sister's hushed cries. How dare these fucking gremlins cause her this distress, at one of our house's feasts, an occasion she adores, no less.

My lips twitch, "you should be glad I care about the less fortunate, because you are so clearly desperate for all these things that you lack: prestige, wealth, and face that is not so hideous to look at-"

Daemon could not hold back his chuckle.

"and so I will not have you quartered and hung in the town square."

The Yronwoods turn to me in shock. My sister pleads my name out, and it further fuels my anger.

"Perros," I call loudly turning to the boy, "I present you now two choices: you either leave my sister alone and keep your lovelorn poetry to yourself, or," I turn his father, "you can marry her in return for your father's head."

"You DARE," he raises his cane, "threaten my son in front of me!"

I giggle, "it is not a threat," then lunge at him to grab his cane.

He is jarred by my actions and nearly topples back when he pulls away. It is a shame his son keeps him upright.

"My word," I examine his family crest on the cane, "is law," I throw his cane behind me.

"You deranged wench!"

"Call me what you like, filth," I grin, "I am the first born of house Martell, betrothed to house Targaryen. Do you think anyone would defy me?"

"The prince will never wed your defiled cunt!"

"Father, that's enough!" Perros begs.

"He has not married you still because-" the old fuck cuts himself off when Daemon climbs over the table, kicking all the food down, and grabs him in his fury.

"You should have kept your tongue while my bride allowed you to keep it. Now I demand it," Daemon seethes, gripping the large oaf by his collar, before extending a hand out to his side, "we are awaiting the return of her father and brothers before we wed, but you would not understand honor or familial duty even after I cut your tongue out."

"Daemon, please," my sister begs, leaning against the table.

"HAND ME A FUCKING BLADE!"

Castella turns to me, gripping my arm tightly.

I cannot bring myself to turn to her as I command, "release him."

"No," Daemon seethes.

"RELEASE HIM!"

Daemon grinds his teeth as he grips the man's collar with both hands again. After, he shoves him off with much force. Again, much to his luck, his son keeps him upright. Had that not been the case, he would have surely fallen and cracked his skull.

I eye Castella and nearly falter at the sight of her tears. I clench my jae, "I have given my word."

She calls my name out, "please, do not-"

With that, I storm out of the place.

Daemon was too caught up in his own anger to realize this. He gives the order to haul the Yronwoods' arses out of the place, and by the time he notices my absence, it was too late.

Much like our routine, Daemon spends the rest of the day that fades into the night, looking for me. He searches In our estate, the establishments nearby, the places I frequent, and the places he has never seen me enter before. He finds me in the very place that I owed my existence to, the brothel my mother worked at.

Daemon could not even let relief wash up on him as he watches me grind up down on the guard I was relieving my angers on.

He rubs my sides as I push my tongue into his mouth.

I scream when I am pulled off him from my hair.

I am thrown off to the side. There is a sound of brawling. I look up and see my snogging partner grip his side in pain as he is hauled out of the place.

I get to my feet in time to witness Daemon shove the guy out the door. I heave as I grab a cup of ale. As he comes up to me, I finish downing whatever remained of it

I gulp the last of it when Daemon grabs the cup and throws it to the side, hissing at the smell of alcohol on me, "are you out of your fucking mind?"

I get on my toes and lean up at him, "yes."

He recoils at my breath and grabs my wrists when I reach out to him. The next thing I know, I am thrown over his shoulder and being hauled out myself.

It's a miracle I do not slip off him, or that the alcohol I consumed did not slip out of me.

Somehow, I am in my chambers.

Like clockwork, I head to the stored wine in my room and gracelessly intake it. Daemon catches it out of my grip and leaves me and my dress in a mess when it splashes all over the place.

I catch my breath as the red cascades all over me.

"What is wrong with you?" Daemon asks, as he pulls the now empty container from me. I grab the other one and run away to drink as much as I could. I barely get to drink any as the prince grabs it. He pulls away from me to empty its contents out the window.

I fight against him when he does so, and out of annoyance, he grabs me by the throat, making my hands dart to his grip.

He releases me when all the wine is wasted. He moves away to put the object back where I got it.

I groan and heave as I watch him walk away.

By the time I catch my breath, I storm towards him. "Stop using your fucking strength against me!" I screech. I lunge at him just as he turns. I manage to the glass he just placed back on the table.

I manage to hit him once on the nose but he he catches both my arms before I could injure him further.

Part of me is shocked when he begins to bleed, but another part is enticed by the way he licks the red off his lips.

Of course, he overpowers me. He brings my hands down in front of him and eyes me darkly. I whine out in pain at how roughly he was gripping me. I eventually release the container and it drops to the floor with a crashing sound.

He pushes me back, and I could do nothing against it.

I crash down on my bed, breathing taxed, I look up at him as he seals my hands beside my head. I am unable to move beneath his bodyweight.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he hisses as his blonde hair falls down to my face.

I find myself laughing at his vexation, "you're awfully clueless for someone that was there."

His nostrils flare. Discomfort shots on his face because of his injury, "were you seriously affected by that vermin's words?"

I laugh harder. Daemon makes a face at the hot, alcohol laced breath that hits him. "Of course not."

"Then why?"

"See, the difference between you and I is that I actually know I'm a lunatic," I crane my neck up at him, "while you are wound up in your own self-righteousness."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

I drop my head and close my eyes. Castella's face burns in my mind, "I just ruined my sister's life."

"No," he quips, loosening his grip when he feels me relax beneath him, "you saved her from marrying into a family of idiots."

Daemon measures my reaction before he pulls away from me. Tears continue to leave my shut eyes when I feel my shoes get pulled off me. I am too sad to care about how I am suddenly being hoisted up. Daemon has me lean against him when he peels me out of my dress.

He makes me sit up on my own. I open my eyes when he caresses my face.

He wipes my tears with his thumb while examining me for a moment. He then undoes the braids and accessories fashioned in my hair.

I fall back on the cushion when he is done. At this point he pulls my skirt down my legs.

My sobs are slightly ceased when I feel a damp towel get thrown at me.

"Wipe yourself down."

I don't. Why would I? I don't care. Where did he even get this?

Daemon returns to me, grumbling in High Valyrian as he takes the towel and wipes the red stains on my skin away.

I only realize he was changed out into his own sleeping attire when he puts me into my nightgown.

I look at him dumbly for a moment. It was as though I had forgotten everything that happened up until this moment. It was not farfetched after all. The candles in the room made his cut and inflamed nose look worse than what it was. Or at least that's what I tell myself.

I bring my hand to his face. He lets me.

He watches me silently.

More tears fall from my eyes, but I cannot bring myself to apologize. I don't even know if I feel sorry.

Daemon does not need it. He shifts on the bed and pulls me onto him when he leans back by the pillows on the headboard. I look at him and shift from my spot, moving to straddle his lap. He places his hands on my thighs as he watches me wipe my tears away.

I take a moment to calm myself. I take a moment to gather my thoughts. I feel Daemon relax beneath me. I feel him rub my thighs in comfort. It's enough for me to roll my hips on his.

He holds back as moan as he leans his head back.

The next moment, he hisses and holds me in place, "you will not remember it was I that fucked you in your state."

"Then tell me in the morning."

He says my name as though it was a warning.

"If you did not want me, then I would not be on your lap."

"And that's the problem, isn't it," he chides, throwing me down on the bed, spinning us around so that I was again under his mercy, "I want you. I want you every second of every day, and yet you do not want me back."

I am unremorseful of his words. I am stoic beneath him as I press my feet on the cushions, "and why would I want you?"

"Because you should be mine!" he mutters sharply, "-are mine. You are promised to marry me!"

I begin to feel exhaustion wrap around me. I close my eyes.

He grabs my head and pulls me close, "yet you insult me by readying yourself to the first man you say your eyes upon."

I am uninterested when I retort, "you only want me because I do not want you, Daemon," I wrap my arms around him and peel my eyes open, "but I do not want you to want me like that."

I wrap my legs around him and suck in a deep breath, "I want you to want me like Ezekiel, who begged at the gates for a mere glance of my face."

Daemon's jaw clenches.

"Like Allyrion, who you still have in locked in our prison but comes alive when I grace him with my presence," I whisper, "the Dalt brothers, Timothy and Bolton, who now despise each other because of how they both wanted to marry me. Rowan, who feels no regret, though you broke his arm after catching us fuck in this very room."

He heaves and attempts to pull away from me.

He drops my head and I grab his, pulling him close, "you want my fire, dragon, but you must scrape the skin on your knees begging for it like everyone else before you."

Daemon does not take kindly to this.

He never does.

He thinks he's so smart and scary but he doesn't realize that he plays into my desires as easily as his temper is triggered.

He leans back into me and shuffles with his clothing. "I'll make you show me how to beg," he seethes.

He was never one to shy from a fight, and in this moment, he was fighting both me and himself with every bit of him. The next second, he is ramming all his anger and frustrations into me.

I admit, it's truly a humbling experience to be at his mercy, helpless, unable to do anything that he will not allow. And yet as he breaks me, he helps me continuously break him the way I have been the moment I met him. I squeal out his name as my mind races with the thought.

He presses my hands beneath his. He is so rough and forceful I begin to slip upward because of his actions. He does not care, and only busies himself by losing his sanity over my wetness, my screams. But then it annoys him and he has no other choice but to pin me down by hips.

"Tell me who's fucking you like this?"

"Daemon," I obediently retort.

He hums as he maneuvers my legs, "and do you want me to stop?"

I whine gutturally, "no! Don't stop!"

His annoying and spiteful self does just that though, and leaves me in a panting mess as I look up at him.

"Beg for it."

I plan my timing carefully. I watch how he watches me, thinking he's in control. I reach out to his hands and lick my lips as I roll against him.

"BEG, I SAID."

"Daemon pleeeasssee," I whine as I roll my head back and arch my back.

"Louder."

"Daemon, please!"

"Louder!"

"DAEMON JUST FUCKING FUCK ME-" I rip out with a high pitched moan when he begins to thrust into me again. He leans down and begins to sink his face into neck as he continues his brutalization.

I let out unabashed cries of pleasure as he sucks on my skin. I dig my hands into the roots of his hair and call out his name like a sacred prayer.

"I will burn my seed into you," he threatens, "you will not escape me. I will fuck you over and over and over again until you're swollen and spent."

Daemon excites himself with the idea and picks up the pace, "your pretty cunt will bear me a strong Targaryen."

I picture the idea of carrying his blonde babe.

He tightens his hold on me.

"I will put a dragon in you," he mutters, pulling away to rest his forehead on mine, "and have us married at daybreak by the traditions of my house."

I whine at the building tension in my stomach.

Daemon lets his mind wander. Lets himself imagine his future, his children, his bride.

He closes his eyes and loses himself as he buries all his thoughts deep beneath him. He relishes the warmth, the softness, the readiness beneath his unforgiving force.

I catch my breath as I dig my teeth into his skin, absolutely ready to come undone before him. "Daemon," I whisper arduously.

That's all it takes for him to realize what he's doing.

Before either of us could even reach our highs, his pace begins to grow sloppy. I whimper at the loss and do not wait for him to quicken his pace again.

With a grunt, I roll him off me and find myself on top him.

I look down on him as I ride him. I lock his neck in my grip. He chokes at my harshness and I lick my teeth at the sight of him. I allow him the courtesy of a breath as I fuck myself on him. I knew he would not have it in him to stop me.

And just as I thought, he holds onto my hips and screws his eyes shut, basking in the feel of me.

I groan as I watch him, "come inside me, my dragon. Claim me like you have been dreaming."

Daemon digs his nails into my flesh. His final act of deviance. It is for naught. He is powerless against me.

And in the rare occasion, we both come at the same time. The feeling is overwhelming, mind melting, toe curling. It is the best fuck we've had in a while.

I do not relent against him. I milk both our reactions for all that I've got, and once I'm reeling, I allow myself to stay on top of him for a moment to catch my breath.

He opens his eyes when I pull away from him.

He thinks about what he said, his desires for his seed.

I think about how badly I want to wash myself down.

Daemon watches me as I head off to the bathroom. He's already cleaned up by the time I return.

He does not wake before dawn. He had been relishing the warmth in his arms. This was why when he opened his eyes and saw nothing but a ghost of who he laid with, he was awakened with bitterness and betrayal.

He is unkept when I see him in the courtyard. He did not fix his hair, did not wash his face, did not change out of his nightly attire. He stares at me as I am served breakfast.

"My prince," I smile, "might you join me for some food?"

Daemon looks at me for a moment, watches as I scold the maid for giving me the chipped tea cup that I absolutely despised.

I turn to him when he walks over to me.

One of the servants pull the chair out for him and I offer another smile. Daemon does not sit down when I tell the servants to prepare his preferred dish.

"Last night..."

I look at Daemon and knit my brows.

"What happened to your nose?" I question as grab his hand and make him sit down next to me. He does not resist. He does not pull away when I push his wild hair back. I move the chair closer to his. There is skidding sound because of it.

When he does not reply, I know my mind games are working. I braid his hair behind him when I repeat, "last night."

Daemon does not move. "I promised I would marry you at daybreak," he whispers.

"Did you?" I feign ignorance, "it's a little too late for that now though," I chuckle.

He grabs my hand, just as I managed to reach the ends of his long hair. I look at him.

My face does not betray me, but his does.

"Do you remember?" he mutters.

I purse my lips, "there is an ache in between my legs. I wished it was you because the moron came inside me."

He releases me and stands. He debates the sincerity of my words. He recounts all the other times I got drunk out of my mind, how he saw the blankness of my eyes when he recounted the activities we did when I was intoxicated.

He measures my current expression against that. He does not know if he wishes it were true or not.

I release a sigh, "do not hold my poor drunken memory against me now, all because you said you would marry me at daybreak."

Daemon clenches his fist, "forget the thought."

I quirk my brows at him.

"I will marry you in the traditions of my house in front of your father, in front of everyone."

I look at him. I look at his violet eyes and blink slowly, "alright."

That's all you could say?

The servant comes back holding the dish he enjoyed. I watch as the food is placed before him, "will you join me now, or would you like me to wait for you to get yourself sorted?"

Daemon feels his pulse quicken. His nostrils flair, "wait for me."

He does not see me nod as he immediately walks off.

When he returns, his entire body tingles at the sound of laughter.

Behold, your brothers have returned.

"Daemon!" I call, waving at him the moment I spot him. I have both my arms flung over the shoulders of my two younger brothers that came after me. The third one that was sitting on the chair I was sat on just a moment.

"Prince Daemon," one of them says.

"Or perhaps we should call him brother."

I roll my eyes, "he is not your brother."

"Well, he will be soon enough."

I shake my head as I watch Daemon come close, "come now. Your food is getting cold."

Daemon is acutely aware of the unintentional alienation he is put into. The brothers coddle their eldest and recount every detail of their trip without a pause, sparing nothing out of it.

He looks at his food and watches a fly that land on it.

Daemon would join this family, much sooner than he expected, and yet, he was no different to the fly on his food.

I catch his distraught expression and find myself smiling.

[10boys]

MLQC : Smothering

♡ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

*aka , a boobie face dive !

Victor :

-Its only the softest of Victors that will act so shamelessly vulnerable to you

-You’re sitting on his lap with your arms around his neck as his hands caress the soft skin of your exposed thighs. You had a day off and decided to visit him on his lunch break at his office

-A few hours before on a quick phone call asking his permission to visit (he’s a busy guy) his usual sharp tounge was much diluted. He gave quick but vauge reassuring statement that he was just a bit stressed and had a lot on his plate for the week; risky decisions, rocky investments, many many under developed plans, all under the responsibility of himself.

-You know your smart and strong victor will get through it somehow, just like he always does, but thats not always an easy side to see when you’re experiencing it in first person. You just wanted to give him a moment to be vulnerable, relaxed, and securly cared for, something he’s constantly deprived of in his CEO role.

-As you pull his face closer and closer for cuddles , he relaxes his head and leans it into your shoulder. You stroke his hair leaving random kisses whenever you get the urge.

-There isnt much talking, just the two of you appreciateing each others warming presence

-The hand once on your thigh has risen to completely hold you in his arms, locking you in place.

-You take this as an invention to hug him tighter, elongating your body until his head finally falls into the perfect spot

-He lets out a small huff-like chuckle, letting you know he’s onto your shenanigans.

-“Feeling better already i see ?” You giggle into his hair while circling your finger around his ear, tracing patterns down his neck.

-“ ...m..dummy”

-His harsh words are very opposing to his actions. His grip around your waist becomes tighter as he burrows himself deeper into his personal pillow

-The comfort and warmth wraps his mind in pink hearts, allowing him to forget his pressing struggles and stress. Being near you is like a sip of wine to him , sensualizing and god damn intoxicating

-He’ll slowly move his face back and forth, in and out, up and down, until he finally realses a small groan of satisfaction

-Being a accomplice to his healing feels amazing, but the current undivided attention to you and your breast is indescribable

-He’ll stay like that for a while, just pushing and rubbing against you...

-He can’t allow himself to get too wired up at work though , this is only his lunch break after all

-The slight shift in his pants once he feels your nipples begin to harden against his face knocks him out of his trance

-“ahh I can’t do this now”

-He doesn’t move, just turns his head and leasurly lays on them for the remainder of his break

-At home though? Boyyyyyy

-Your low V-neck shirt would have been pulled down immediately to expose yourself to him, breast spilling out resembling a 4 course meal

-Victor prefers his hands to your breasts though, he loves to grope and toy with your nipples. He doesn’t have a good view to watch your reaction to him if hes face-deep

Lucien :

-HE is a looker

-We’re all very familiar with his intense gaze stairing problem

-You’re both sitting upright on opposite sides of the plush floor matt in his reading room, pillows densely outline the edges for support and comfort while you two peacefully enjoy each other’s company

-Well, you were

- Just as you’re turning the page of one of the novels you found laying near by, you see a pair of familiar black pupils from above the pages

-You lower the book to better see the man glaring absolute holes into you. The corners of his lips lift into seemingly innocent smile, the smile that softens his whole face, thins out his eyes, and hides his much more vulgar intentions.

-“Can i help you sir ?” You playfully spat trying to hide the gentle blush creeping onto your cheeks

-Your remark seems to have caught him off guard, but he quickly fixes his face. He lowers his book and gently places it to the side, his thin black-framed glasses following suit.

-“Actually...” his tall thin frame is crawling twords you, you feign resistance, lightly kicking your legs to keep him away. His large strong hands grasp them immediately, keeping them in place long enough for him to slip himself in.

-And now there he is, layed on top of you with his head under the arms thats still holding your book whata attention whore.

-His head rests on your lower stomach hiking up the him of your shirt. You know he’s up to something, but his current good behavior is enough to lower your suspensions for now. Him cuddling onto you while you read is actually very peaceful in itself. He looks comfortable and delicate, so you let him be.

-But that doesn’t last for long

-You can feel his warm breath on your stomach ascented by soft pecks and kisses, leaving trails just beginning to go above your belly button. His hands grab the rim of your shirt pulling it over his head, creating a personal space for just him and the beautiful view underneath

-“Lucien!” You giggle as his kisses gradually travel higher up, getting wetter and more passionate with each contact of skin

-“Hm? Something wrong? I prefer it under here..” and with that, he’s face planted.

-The distractions have your book strown to the side after you’ve long lost interest

-Lucien likes to play.

-He’ll dip his hands in periodically to help with his little experiments, pressing down your nipples to watch them pop back up.

-But mostly, he’ll hold your body from the outside as he helps himself to as much titty as he wants

-He loves the good old-fashion smother. His face absorbed by boob. Since you’re laying down, He’ll use his hands from the outside to push up all the extra boob fat

-Lucien, the actual kitten, will leave nips and bites on the supple flesh inbetween his face-dive sessions. He just absolutely adores the whole act, having someone he loves and admires so vulnerable and exposed to him and his desires makes his heart soft and dick hard

-Is he lightly thrusting his hips against the matt ? The world may never know

-Lucien does this often tho, maybe second in place to kiro

-From daily hugs to cuddle session, he can’t seem to keep to loose himself to his desires.

Gavin :

-Ooooh blushy boy

-You LOVE teasing him, the way he quickly turns his head to redirect his attention when he’s flustered is beyond satisfying, the butterflys you get knowing what you (unintentionally) do to him is :,)

-So the element of surprise is something he hates but you love

-He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, just chillin on his phone waiting for you to finish up whatever you were doing in the other room when BAM

-“Gavin ~ i missed u ~”

-You pull him into a smothering embrace, his face and your chest having an intement moment together

-You hold his head firmly aginst you while softly stroking his hair, letting some fingers down periodically to trace along his ear

-Gavin groans but shows absolutely no signs of resistance probably to hide his blushing face

-His face feels great agaisnt your chest, you begin to move them side to side to create a bit of friction for yourself

-You hear him release a low exhale at the action as you respond with a soft giggle

-Once Gavins done acting all tsundere he finally surrenders, pulling you closer by hugging at your waist, softly shaking his head in your breast

-Shit he may even grip a titty with one hand as he continues to press against the other

-Gavin lives to please you, so its not long after his attention will go to pinching at your nipples and nipping them with his teeth through your shirt

-When you look down to check on him, you meet the gaze of his blushing face and low amber eyes looking up at you and fuck

-Its time to get down to business :)

-Gavin loves to mark you, so sucking his ownership into one of your most delicate and personal places is his specialty

-He also loves to smother while he fucks you or you fuck him

-When he’s close he’ll bury himself in your chest and fuck you like the dirty dog he is ;)

-he nasty

-so shy...but so naSTy...

Kiro:

-Kiro absolutely loves it

-Kiro is just a boob guy in general?

-White tank top + your nipples pressing through = suckle session

-Like lucien, he loves to lay down on top of you and just... play

-Its rare you both have a day off at the same time so you usually spend it having a lazy day together, after all, working is exhausting

-You’re cuddled up on the couch watching your favorite feel-good show together, one of his favorite things to do with you since he gets to use his most favorite pillow

-Actually, Its just you watching the show.

-His arms are wrapped around your body pressing you as close to his face as he possibly can

-“mmmm miss chips is my favorite pillow~”

-“wahhh your boobs are so great”

-We can’t expect this vocalist to be shy about his feelings for you, he’ll spit little praises at you regularly as they come to his mind

-He’ll lay on each one, then in the crevis of your breast so he can push them together to completely surround himself. His hands will get a good grip as he paws and gropes at them

-Can he breath? The world may never know

-He’ll die a happy death tho

-Loves to wiggle his face back and forth and feel the jiggle

-He gives them so much attention you begin to think he might have a boob worshiping thing?? Not that you’d mind ;)

-His face and free boob massage feels absolutely great, his tinted cheeks and wet blue orbs stairing up at you is enough to make the anime steam blow through your head

- *thought bubble* fuck fuck fuck hes so cute...

Sooo if you can’t tell #1 im a cancer and #2 im about to start my period so my boobs are soooo sensitive right now, these scenarios are all i can think about ~ Thank u sm for reading !!! You can comment your thoughts or stance of the accuracy, Check out my other works under the mlqc tag :) -myk

[sevenkookiejars]

"We're in an exam study group and I just send you my nudes by accident oops" Minjoon

Pairing: MinJoon (Jimin x Namjoon)Prompt: “We’re in an exam study group and I just send you my nudes by accident oops” AU Rating: PGWord Count: 2,447A/N: *whispers* Minjoon is so precious ^~^ thank you anon for requesting and sorry I took forever with this (I hope you still get to read this)!! (P.S. Jimin’s doing the swearing on my behalf bc I swear that I don’t really swear at all irl – pun unintended) Enjoy!

Jimin’s phone vibrates once in his lap. He ignores it, working on the math problem he has in front of it. It vibrates again, then a series of vibrations start. Jimin curses under his breath, dropping his pen down to pick up his phone instead. 

There’s a flood of kakaotalk messages from Taehyung. 

[4:32PM TaeTae]im bored

chimchim

talk to me :( 

[4:33PM TaeTae] i hate math

save me

chimmm

why you ignoring me

chimmmmmmmmmmmmm

Jimin looks up and shoots a glare at Taehyung who’s sitting diagonally across from him at the table. Taehyung’s face lights up with a triumphant smile. 

[4:35PM Jimin]I’m trying to do my math problems, stop trying to distract me

Jabbing the home button, Jimin picks up his pen and goes back to staring at the same question that he’s been stuck on for nearly 20 minutes. There’s a reason Jimin’s here, stuck in study group past 4pm on a Friday afternoon rather than practicing his dance moves in the studio. 

Whoever deigned it necessary for a music student like him to take math in university should rethink their lives. How the hell is math even remotely needed in his degree? Something about holistic education and well-roundedness or some shitty excuse is what the deans will say but that’s honestly a ton of bullshit. Bullshit that has people like Jimin suffering because his midterms came back with an ugly 30/100 on the top and a “see me” post-it note tagged on the side. Taehyung had the nerve to laugh at him when he barely scraped a 33/100 on his. 

So here they are, stuck in a study group that’s supposed to coach them into passing finals. Jimin’s only here because the fear of having to retake the module and suffer another semester of math is real. 

His phone starts vibrating again. Jimin tsks under his breath, trying his best to ignore it, which is nearly impossible when his phone is basically wiggling its way dangerously close to his crotch. Stupid Taehyung and his non-existent attention span. Resigned, Jimin sighs and picks up his phone again. 

[4:37PM TaeTae]im still bored 

dont be mean chim

stop ignoring em

me*chimmmm lets go for tonkatsu later

i feel like treating myself after this torture

[4:38PM TaeTae]yah i know you can feel your phone 

if you keep ignoring me im gonna tell namjoon hyung you have the biggest crush on him 

i swear 

Jimin sucks in a breath. Dammit why did he ever let it out to Taehyung about Namjoon? He should have known that Taehyung would use it to blackmail him someday. 

Not that intoxicated Jimin had cared a week ago when he, in Taehyung’s words, “wailed for a solid hour about Namjoon hyung’s beautiful gaze and lips and body and everything”. And no, Jimin is still adamant that he couldn’t have been as pathetic as what Taehyung makes him out to be. It’s just a tiny crush okay, Jimin can appreciate good aesthetics and that’s not his fault.

[4:40PM Jimin] You wouldn’t actually do that

[4:40PM TaeTae] you talking to me ~\(≧▽≦)/~

so tonkatsu?? 

and if you ignore me i will 

[4:41PM Jimin] Whatever, Namjoon hyung won’t believe anything you say 

Do your work. I’m going to mute kakaotalk.

Satisfied, Jimin does exactly that. Taehyung can’t disturb him now and he can have the last 20 minutes of study group for math practice. Extra exam preparation questions that he has to hand in on Monday and still has no idea how to do. Jimin suddenly feels the urgency in his bones. 

Inherently, Jimin is someone who hates relying on others for help. It makes him feel somewhat worthless, inadequate in a way that leaves an unsettling feeling swirling in his gut. Which is why he’s debating hard whether or not to actually bring up his questions to their study group mentor now. 

The choice should be pretty obvious, because putting his pride down now is better than taking the walk of shame to the front of his tutorial class to meet the professor. It should be obvious, except that Namjoon is their study group mentor. Yeah, the very Namjoon that Jimin has a tiny crush on. 

Jimin bites his lip. It shouldn’t be a big deal really. Namjoon doesn’t even know he has a crush for god’s sake. Besides, Jimin’s pretty sure at least a fifth of the juniors in school have some sort of a crush on Namjoon. Namjoon who is tall, charming, smart and really nice and helpful to all juniors. Jimin probably needs his fingers and toes (maybe Taehyung’s too) to count the number of times he’s overheard whispered conversation and soft squeals over senior Kim Namjoon. 

But that said, the math problems are still leering at him. Forget about having any choice, Jimin doesn’t want to die of shame on Monday submitting a blank paper. Sighing, Jimin picks up his phone, turning on the camera app to take pictures of the questions he’s been stuck at. 

Namjoon has this system in study group, where they can send him pictures over WhatsApp of the questions they need help with so that he can look over the questions while helping the previous student. It’s somewhat like his own queue system that he’s implemented and it works. And yeah, it’s specifically WhatsApp, not KakaoTalk. Taehyung said and Jimin quotes “that Namjoon hyung is way too English-ified”. As if that really explains why Namjoon prefers an American chat app over a Korean one. 

Jimin opens Whatsapp and opens a fresh chat with Namjoon. His phone vibrates, banner on the top of his screen displaying WhatsApp notifications from none other than Taehyung. The first one reads “you really muted!!!!” and the second announces an attached photo. 

Rolling his eyes, Jimin decides to quickly attach the two photos of questions that he has to ask Namjoon before attending to Taehyung’s messages. He absently clicks the last two photos in his gallery and clicks send. 

Okay, now to entertain Taehyung while he waits for his turn with Namjoon. He’s about to exit the chat with Namjoon when something catches his attention. The first photo sent doesn’t have a plain white background. It’s definitely not his question paper. Jimin blinks, scrolling up so that the whole photo comes into view. 

“Fuck.” The girl sitting beside him shifts her gaze to glare at him but Jimin barely notices. “Fuck no no no, please don’t send. Oh god, please don’t." 

Jimin fumbles with his phone. The two grey ticks appear. Jimin collapses back in his seat with a small whimper. Opposite, Taehyung glances up in mild concern. 

This can’t be real. Maybe it’s just a bad dream, yeah? Maybe he’s getting so exhausted from math that he’s starting to hallucinate. It can’t be real, right? Jimin nearly jumps in his seat when his phone vibrates again in his hands. A banner notification from Taehyung that says ”what’s wrong chim“ and then ”you scaring me“. 

He’s still in the chat with Namjoon. Jimin swallows, throat dry. He blinks hard once, twice. The grey ticks are still there, mocking. Jimin wants to cry.

This is worse than any walk of shame to see his professor. Because right above his picture of his math problem is one of Jimin sitting in a tub, clothes trail on the bathroom floor as he hugs an empty soju bottle. Naked and drunk stupid. And if that isn’t bad enough, it’s most definitely Taehyung’s Snapchat capture because there’s a text banner that Taehyung’s kindly covered his exposed crotch with that reads "AWW LOVERBOY CRYING OVER JOONIE HYUNG”. Jimin doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be thankful for Taehyung salvaging the last bit of his dignity. 

Of course Jimin is that dumbass that never switched off the function on WhatsApp that automatically downloads media into his phone. Taehyung had told him once to switch it because “it downloads useless photos and takes up space”, to which Jimin had shrugged and muttered something about having 256GB to spare. 

And it’s here to bite him in the ass now. Taehyung was probably sending him proof of blackmail material he has of Jimin’s crush on Namjoon, which Jimin knows Taehyung will never actually use to blackmail him. Except he just had to send it before Jimin got about to sending his math questions and obviously Jimin is the idiot who doesn’t check what he’s sending and just clicks the latest pictures. 

The rest is history. History that has Jimin freaking out all over again. Taehyung’s flooding him with messages now, to which Jimin replies with a simple “fuck you” because he can’t take all the blame for his battered pride. 

Jimin’s back in his chat with Namjoon, math now forgotten, and still internally panicking when it happens. The grey ticks turn blue. It’s like everything comes to a standstill and Jimin stops breathing. Namjoon read the messages. Namjoon fucking saw the pictures. 

It’s like a slap of cold water to his face and Jimin sucks in a sharp breath. He needs to get out of here. Screw study group, he’ll ask for a transfer or just stop attending. He can’t face Namjoon, not now, not ever.

With shaking hands, Jimin grabs his bag, haphazardly stuffing his homework and stationery in. 

“Chim,” Taehyung hisses from across the table. Jimin ignores him. He doesn’t have enough focus outside of his panic to actually care. “Jimin, what’s happening?" 

Jimin zips his bag up and stands, setting his eyes on the door. He can feel a few curious stares and from the corner of his eye, he sees Taehyung standing to follow him. 

With his head down, Jimin makes a beeline for the door, making sure to shut it softly behind him so as not to make a scene. Hurrying down the corridor, Jimin feels dread curling like bile in his throat. 

As he rounds the corner, he hears hurried footsteps behind him. It’s probably Taehyung wanting to know what happened. Jimin doesn’t really want to talk about it. The magnitude of the whole situation is catching up with him and all he wants to do is curl up in a corner and drown in self pity. 

The footsteps close in, coming to a halt behind him. "Jimin-ssi." 

It isn’t Taehyung. Jimin’s breath hitches. Namjoon hyung. 

There’s a hand on his shoulder and Jimin turns out of reflex. Their gazes meet and Jimin immediately drops his, shuffling a small step backwards. Namjoon drops his hand to his side. 

The corridor is empty. Jimin’s partly glad that no one’s going to witness his death by shame. He doesn’t dare look up at Namjoon. 

The silence drags a moment too long and Jimin’s unconsciously starting to shift his weight from feet to feet when Namjoon sighs. Wordlessly, he lifts his phone, tilting it for Jimin to look at. 

Jimin chews on his bottom lip hard. Drunk Jimin stares back at him hazy and unabashed. Jimin kind of wants to fling the phone across the hall. He would do it, except it’s Namjoon’s. 

"What’s this?” Namjoon says finally. 

Jimin pulls at the hem of his shirt, scrunching it up and then letting it go. “I… I sort of sent you my nude by accident?” Internally, he winces at his choice of words. “Oops?” He adds, before his brain catches up and goddammit Park Jimin why can’t you play it off like it isn’t a big deal because it really isn’t. 

It shouldn’t be at least.

“Uhm,” Namjoon replies. “Okay.” He lowers the phone slowly. “I… the caption…” Namjoon’s voice trails off.

Jimin closes his eyes. Of course. Why did he expect? Taehyung and his stupid caption. Jimin contemplates lying and pretending that “Joonie hyung” isn’t the one standing right before him. There’s probably a dozen and one people who have the nickname “Joonie”, right? But Jimin is horrible at lying and it always tugs at his conscience. 

He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” Jimin starts. “I mean, I was really going to send you my math questions. But Taehyung wanted to blackmail me and I didn’t turn off that auto download and it just sent and like, I had a crush on you since forever but half the school does too and you can’t blame be for appreciating good aesthetics but I don’t even know if you like girls or guys, I’m sorry I’m-”

Jimin breaks off when he feels fingers beneath his chin. He freezes. 

“You’re rambling,” Namjoon says mildly. He pushes gently, tilting Jimin’s face up, gaze searching. “Crush on me, huh?” Namjoon’s tone is light, teasing almost. He chuckles softly.

Jimin feels his face heat and he bristles. “I’m sorry I’m such a loser who doesn’t know how to ask his brain and heart to shut the fuck up about you,” he snaps. Dammit that came out all wrong. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap-”

“You’re apologizing a whole lot,” Namjoon says, a dimpled smile spreading. “Sorr- I mean…” Jimin wants to facepalm himself. 

Namjoon laughs, the sound of it making Jimin’s stomach flip. “Well,” Namjoon shrugs, “If you’re really sorry about it, you could treat me to coffee now.”

Jimin stares dumbly. Coffee, what?

Namjoon awkwardly rubs the nape of his neck. “I mean, if you’re free that is. I haven’t managed to answer your math questions after all, and study group session’s over.”

Right. The math questions, Jimin almost forgot. “Of course, I’ll buy you coffee, Namjoon-ssi." 

Namjoon scrunches his nose. "Just hyung will do,” he says, and Jimin feels something warm settle in the pit of his stomach. “Or Joonie hyung if you want,” Namjoon adds, shooting him a grin. “I don’t mind.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Jimin groans. “And can you please delete that photo and pretend you never saw it?” Namjoon shakes his head. Jimin feels himself deflate a little. “Why, hyung? Do you want it for blackmail too?”

“No, of course not!” Namjoon feigns an offended look. “What do you take me for? I just can appreciate good aesthetics.” Then before Jimin can register those words and respond, Namjoon places a hand on the small of Jimin’s back to steer him in the direction of the campus exit. “Come on, it’s a date!”

(They end up talking for hours over coffee and forgetting about tutoring. Jimin later insists that circumstances forced him to visit Namjoon’s apartment on a Saturday to do math while having takeouts, which somehow dragged on into movie night and Jimin crashing at Namjoon’s place. 

The rest is history. History that has Jimin calling Namjoon his boyfriend. And no, Taehyung gets zero credit because Jimin’s going to take all of it for himself.)

A/N: Thank you for reading this fic that got pretty long! I’ve never written Minjoon ever so I hope this is at least somewhat good (and cute maybe because it’s supposed to be fluff kinda). Also thank you to those of you who read my previous mini fics (and those who leave comments in your tags, they really make my day!)

Send me a prompt and a bangtan pairing, I’ll write you a short fic ♡