#let's all just pretend I'm actually super slick and have been doing this the whole time

[bapple117]

The Theraprist Chapter 21 is live!

△ You can find it RIGHT HERE △

Happy Halloween, y'all 🎃 TRICK OR TREAT

[jaeminscoffee]

Daddy Issues | S. Jn

Pairing | Seo Johnny x Fem!Reader

Genre | Smut, fluff

Wc;type | oneshot: 3.93k [not proof read]

Warning(s) | Pwp, dilf!johnny, y/n's a pillow princess, daddy kink, overstimulation, teasing, edging, dacryphilia, slight voyeurism, degradation kink, heavy use of the words 'doll, princess, slut, pretty, angel', typical lyra smut, i made haechan johnny's son (i was about to write changbin as johnny's son but decided against it) age gap, unprotected sex ( the Reader's on pills. Remember this is a fiction, don't play the wrong card irl) filth.

a/n- i found this request buried in my asks and was tempted to write it. Sure, the warning looks intimidating, but i know you wanna read it, y'all whores (ily) shoutout to @bakugou-is-my-bae @cvntzennie and @jenopollo for helping me decide what to post first! @suhpersonic

Minors try not to interact! <3

Age is just a number, so surely, there's nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed of, right? 

There's no reason for you to not fall for the friendly neighborhood bachelor, well not so bachelor bachelor, since he does go around asking people who knows of his marriage to pretend it never took place. 

Johnny's hot, super hot. Has the build of a supermodel. Has the face that one can only imagine belongs to a greek god, as you'd jokingly tell him how he seemed to be god's favorite and how you loathe Aphrodite for showing favoritism (which would always end up with you getting a very sultry, teasing look from the lad) 

Johnny has the type of personality that women can only wish the entirety of the male species would possess. He's an absolute sweetheart, life of the party, definitely the center of attention wherever he goes. And oh god, does he have an immaculate fashion sense. 

But Johnny's also the father of Donghyuck. Your best friend. 

More than being ashamed about the fact that you actually fell in love with a man who has a child of your age, it was the fact that you had to fall for Donghyuck's father of all people. 

Donghyuck is a sweetheart, definitely got his personality from his father but he's also got that glare that could creep the Lord's of the darkness from his father. He's got so much from his father that the resemblance is uncanny. 

You'd not want to get onto hyuck's bad side since you've gotten first hand experience at stopping him from almost committing homicide to someone who spoke shit about his friends, more specifically, you. 

But Hyuck's not in town. So a little fun with Mr. Suh wouldn't hurt anyone, correct? After all, you're still only a human with desires and the want to take risks. 

You'd always not so subtly drop hints at Johnny and he'd always give you that look that would have slick collecting itself between your thighs. A warning look. 

A look that said, "cross the line and you'll get it" 

But that's the thing, you want to get it and will do anything to get it.

"Y/n." 

You'd ask yourself less than a million times if you want to do this or not.

Sure, you weren't this hesitant when you decided to sext your best friend's father knowingly when he was in business mode to irk him up but that's one thing. 

And having to confront the same father who left a message smaller than a sentence that completely disregarded all the obscene text and images to show that he's not the slightest bothered or suprised by your behavior for that matter was another thing.

"Tomorrow at mine." 

It's almost as though he deals with hormonal teenagers one as such as yourself on a daily basis and that thought kind of backfired at you considering the whole 'Let's piss Johnny off so that he'd finally give me what i want' agenda. 

Ironic, huh? 

"Mr. Suh." you start hesitantly, unsure of what to call him, scared of what his reaction would be after your inappropriate shenanigans last night. 

Your stiff demeanor broke down a little with just a hint of shiver passing down your spine as you watch his features contort into a subtle but cocky smirk, "So now you're being all formal,"

"Well, what else would you like me to address you as?" you inquire, feigning oblivion to his tone and what he's implying at. "You tell me, doll. You seemed to have a lot of names to call me last night," he takes a step forward, prompting you to walk a step backwards, further into the corridors of his apartment and away from the actual location. 

"I do not know what you're talking about.. " you let your voice shrivel towards the end, eyes wandering around the complex, finding interest in every small detail as you avoid Johnny's teasing gaze. 

"You don't?" Johnny takes another step forward, latching his hands onto your forearms to prevent you from stepping further away, "You must have had a heavy sleep to forget all that you did last night," his voice drops dangerously low as he begins to walk backwards and back into the safety of his apartment, all the while keeping his gaze fixated on you.

"That won't do, would it? How about we take a walk down the memory lane? And see if that rings any bell?" He brushes your hair away from its static position on your shoulder, allowing him to appreciate all those fine details of your shoulders and neck that are exposed from your selection of clothing, an off shoulder. 

"How about we don't...?" You ask with skepticism, jolting slightly when you hear the door shut behind you and at the new intrusion of personal space by the lad.

"Why are you acting all shy now, Y/n? Weren't you the one so eager to get into her best friend's fathers pants? Just be the whore you are, darling. Your facade's fooling no one." okay you definitely didn't see that coming. 

Johnny's expressions morph into that of mischief as he watches your eyes grow wide and mouth fall ajar, "Am i not correct? Are you not a whore?" he asks with an eyebrow quirked up in a questioning manner.

You don't reply, almost as though the question was meant to linger in the open and that it was a rhetorical one. What you didn't expect, however, was for Johnny's hands to find pursuit around your neck, not necessarily applying pressure, but there as a warning. 

"Answer me." 

"I'm not.." you answer with a feeble voice, internally cringing at how squeaky you sound which only added to Johnny's amusement. 

"Really? Because I don't think good girls go around drooling at a divorced man, her friend's father for that matter and definitely do not send lewd images and voice out their fantasies to a guy twice their age, still want to pretend you're innocent? Or you admit it and we cut down the chase?"

"Yes, I am." you breathe out when his fingers tighten around your neck, a triumphant smile making its way onto his lips. Yet, Johnny felt the need to keep pushing,

"you're what?" 

"I am what you said I am," you speak, trying to avoid looking at the scrutinizing look on his face which seemed futile as he had his arms wrapped around your neck, keeping your head in place. 

"I want to hear you say it, doll. I need to hear you say it." At this point Johnny's intent was to get you into a flustered puddle in his hold and it sure as hell was going in that direction, seeing how you can't even hold his gaze for more than a few seconds in a shot. 

"I am.. I am a who-"

The sound of a phone ringing loud cut you off midway through your sentence, to which you were absolutely relieved. Johnny only seemed to grow annoyed the more he heard the phone ring. With a loud huff, he lets you go, not before giving you a stern look, "Go to my room." he instructed, making his way to the study. 

You let out a breath you've been holding in unknowingly the moment he steps away from you. You watch his figure retreat from you with awe, only now realizing how messy you felt between your legs and how your knees keep buckling. 

"Oh Hyuck!" you hear Johnny exclaim into the phone the minute you step forward to follow his command. 

Your best friend is on call with the guy you're about to fuck. 

Your blood runs cold as you shakily make your way into the apartment and towards the bedroom, shrugging off your sling bag, hanging it behind the door as you place your phone on the bedside table to wipe your hands dry from all the sweat that had accumulated at the palm of your hands. 

"Yeah, I'm fine, about to eat to my dinner actually" you hear the moment to make yourself comfortable at the edge of the bed, looking over to the door where Johnny stood with his arms across his chest, the other holding up the phone as he leans his weight onto one shoulder, leaning into the doorframe.

You take the time to really appreciate his appearance. He adorned nothing more than a simple grey sweat and tight black tee but he seemed ready to walk down a runway at any given moment now. His long hair, slightly disheveled looking almost intentionally messed up, compliments his features. And oh his features. 

The everlasting smirk stayed still on his lips, moving as he exchanged words with his son.

You only come back to your senses when Johnny snapped his free hand in front of you, gaining your attention. He points at his own shirt, then points at you, mouthing 'off' while he listens to Donghyuck speak about whatever he's speaking. 

"Really? Jeno said that? Tell him I'm more than willing to welcome him as my gym partner, the lad seems strong" Johnny makes a quick move to remove the gadget from his ear, before holding it in front of him after placing the call on speaker mode 

Your eyes widen the moment you hear the disturbance in the background and Donghyuck's voice resonate through the room. "no?? Why would you want to work out with him? He'll only make you feel old, you know?" 

"Says the one who still can't beat me at arm wrestling. If anything, i think Jeno would make the perfect gym buddy for me," Johnny raises an eyebrow at your defiance, cocking his head towards the side, staring down at you with a predatory look, "Hyuck, you know, Y/n-" you scramble to take your shirt off at the mention of your name on the call, "-stopped by earlier" he lets out a silent laugh of disbelief.

"Oh? Oh yeah! I'd told her I'd give her book back before I left but I forgot, did you perhaps give it back to her?" Donghyuck questions. 

"I figured you must've forgotten so, yeah i did." Johnny replies, pushing himself off of the doorframe, now walking towards you. 

"Man, I miss her! I might facetime her after I end the call with you," Johnny sets down the phone beside you on the bed, leaning down, placing both his hands on either side of your lap, finding comfort at the crook of your neck,

"I remember her mentioning something about her cousin coming over? Maybe wait for an hour or so before calling her" his lips graze against your neck each time he spoke, you let out a tiny whimper at the so longed feeling, only to earn yourself a small bite at the earlobe, immediately accompanied by a hand over your mouth, "you need to be quiet, doll. Or my son would find out how much of a slut his best friend is," he whispers in your ear. 

"Yeah? Did she mention which one?" 

"No, not really, she kinda just stormed out after getting what she wanted" Johnny creates a trail of kisses all the way from your neck to your shoulders, down the collarbone while one of his hand worked to unhook your bra, "Yeah, she's weird like that," you hear Donghyuck let out a chuckle as you whine into Johnny's palm, your figure slightly trembling from the fear of getting caught all the while being excited about the risky situation he's put the two of you in. 

"Anyways, I'll call you tomorrow? The boys are coming over now so I got to go! Night, dad!" Donghyuck speaks up again, "Night, Hyuck." 

You hear the beep indicating the call has ended. Johnny let's his hand drop from your mouth and makes its way towards your hair, brushing through the strands before pulling at it with a firm grip, "I had my son on call and here you are making all these sweet noises, you wanted to get busted, doll?" 

"It's not my fault! You-"

"ah-ah! Don't talk back, angel. You're already in deep trouble, don't want to add onto that now, do we?" He makes a swift move to have you lying on your back, your torso completely exposed to him while he remains clothed. 

"But Johnny-" you whine, jolting when you feel his hands caressing the soft flesh of your inner thighs, "How do you think Hyuck would feel about this?" his hands travel further north, cupping your heat from underneath your skirt. "fuck, you're drenched"

"Now tell me, pretty girl, what are you supposed to be calling me, now?" 

"Johnny-, tha-that was a joke! I don't have daddy kin-" you try clenching your thighs close from the sudden attention your core was receiving. Johnny wholeheartedly lets out a laugh at your attempt to hide your true feelings, making a quick act of disregarding your soaked panties somewhere behind him.

"Darling, the more you deny it, the longer we keep going at it-" his thumbs at your clit, applying pressure but making no move to quench your needs. You let out a sigh of bliss at the feeling, your back arching off of the sheets at the sensation.

In any other situation, you'd be embarrassed at how sensitive you'd gotten just from all the dirty talking and looks Johnny passed you. But that's the catch, he's Johnny, the only one who can get you this sensitive while doing the bare minimum. 

"Say it, Y/n." 

"No, Johnny! It's-it's embarrassing.." you plead with your eyes, grinding your hips against his fingers, earning a satisfied, dirty look from the lad. 

"Very well.. I'll just draw it out of you"

Without warning, Johnny with little to no resistance, slides two slender digits into your wetness, setting a pace fast enough to draw loud chains of cries from your mouth.

"You hear that, doll? You hear how fucking wet you are? Hm?" he growls animalistically, the thumb that remained on your clit now moving in circles with a motive to get you undone in seconds. 

"Johnn-..!" you whine out, feeling your orgasm growing so close that you could almost taste it, "Still going at that, angel?" he questions, not really expecting an answer as he soaks up the pleasured look on your face. "Johnny- I'm close.. -" you fail to notice the mischievous grin growing on his face as he speeds up the movement of his fingers. 

"Of course you are, doll" He feels you clench around his fingers, back coming off of the mattress as you ready yourself for your release, waiting until the last minute to draw his finger out.

"Why would you-? Johnn-I was so close!" you cry out as you sense your core clench around nothing, whining about the incomplete orgasm. "Why would I give you what you want when you wouldn't comply, baby? That's not how this works." He shrugs, licking his fingers clean of your essence, moving up from the bed to remove the shirt that seemed to be suffocating now.

"Johnny, please!" you whine louder, rubbing your thighs together to create some sort of friction, all unsatisfactory as it did not meet the same intensity as that of his fingers. 

"Please what, doll?" He smirks, knowing the ball is in his court and that you'd had to give in any moment now. Johnny leans down once again, drawing lazy circles at your clit, using his other hand to hold himself up above and close to you, his minty breath which had a hint of coffee fanning your face as you whimper, finally feeling your high building itself up again. "Spit it out, princess, you know you want to." he speaks in a soft voice.

"Please..please" you beg for nothing in particular, getting all worked up again, "The begging's lovely, doll. But you're starting to anger me here, will you say it? Or should I leave you hanging again?" 

You mutter prayers under your breath, hoping he wouldn't actually leave you hanging again, "Fine-" he moves again to remove his fingers from you to deprive you of pleasure all over again when you finally latch onto his wrist, keeping his hands in place blurting out, "Daddy! I'm so-sorry.. There, daddy, please make me come" you give in, the name, the feeling and look of pure victory on his face as he grins like a cheshire cat only intensifies the heat growing at a rapid pace at the pit of your stomach. 

"Final fucking ly, princess. Daddy will make you feel good" He reinserts his fingers in, drilling it with desperation to see you come undone as he draws rapid circles on your now sensitive clit with the other hand, watching you squirm under him.

"Joh-Daddy i'm coming..!" you cry out weakly as you feel your orgasm hit you with much force, easily driving you into over sensitivity. Johnny's patient in helping you ride out your orgasm, not stopping until you let out a throaty sob and plead him to stop to allow yourself some room to breathe. 

Johnny, however, makes no move to stop, only speeding up his fingers, his gaze fixed on where his fingers disappeared inside of you while his other hand held you down with a vise grip, "Give me one more, doll. I know you've got one more in you. " he pants, the feeling of his girth in confinement only throwing himself to sensory deprivation as he feels himself twitch inside his sweats painfully. 

You shake your head, tears now flowing elegantly down your cheek, your lips puckered into a slight pout, your eyebrows drawn together as you let yourself melt into the pleasure Johnny was providing you with. "Daddy.." 

You whine, feeling your second high reaching you ridiculously quick as you see Johnny's face contort in concentration, 

"I need to get you nice and wet for me, princess, you're doing so well. Give daddy another one" you coaxes you with his sultry tone, words and actions, inevitably having you come undone under him for the second time that night. 

You let out a choked moan, finally having enough as you curl upon yourself the minute Johnny removes his fingers from you, full fledged crying at the overbearing feeling of sensitivity. 

Johnny groans at the sight, leaning down to press a soft peck on your sweaty forehead before getting off of the bed to remove his pants alongside his boxer at a slow speed, granting you some time to recover.

"Condom?" he asks, readying himself to reach into the drawing when he notices you shake your head a no as a reply, "I'm on pills.." you mutter weakly. 

You hear him curse out at the thought of doing you raw, flexing his muscles before climbing on top of you again. He takes his time to gently turn you back onto your back, pressing his tender lips against your irritated one for the first time that night, his hand ever so slightly moving to play with your clit once again, making you jerk, "Daddy!" 

"Sorry, doll. Daddy just needs to make sure that princess is ready to take his cock" 

Your whining intensifies at his words, wiggling your hips to move closer to his own, "But I am ready! Look, daddy! I'm so wet and ready for you!" you whimper, earning a chuckle from the lad. 

Just like all the other times that night, he aligns his cock at your entrance without a warning, the tip ever so slightly pushing through your walls, "Alright, big girl. Show daddy how much of a slut you can be for him."

Suddenly, Johnny detaches himself from you, moving further away as he leans by the edge of the door, smirking at you whining at the loss of contact, "Patience, angel" 

He grabs hold of your hips, manhandling your body into all fours as he enters you completely with no trouble once he's got you where he wants you to be.  

Something about having to take Johnny from behind was so sexy that you could almost immediately feel your orgasm grow, "Fuck baby, keep clenching around me like that and i won't last long," he grunts, moving in you with a steady pace, 

"I never expected my son to befriend such filthy sluts like you, Y/n. Look at the mess you're making on my sheets" He grabs a fistful of your ass in a tight squeeze, the sudden shift in his demeanor only serving as a whiplash as you feel yourself growing closer and closer to the sweet orgasm. 

"Jesus, doll, you're so fucking tight i can barely move" Johnny growls, talking to keep himself from coming too fast. 

"Daddy.. I'm close. M-I'm so so close" you cry as your arms give out and you fall face first onto the mattress, the new stretch in your back only encouraging his cock to hit you deeper, finding the sweet cushion that serves as extra pleasure for you. 

"Me too, princess, me too.. '' You hear him let out a whine, his thrusts growing sloppier as he does you slower but deeper. 

He reaches around your body to find pursuit at your clit for the nth time that night, rubbing rapid, messy circles to go with his deep thrusts, "Daddy!" you reach your high with a high pitched cry of his name. 

Johnny comes not too long after you as he couldn't resist the constant tight clenching of your walls around his cock. He thrust slowly to ride out his high as you twitch helplessly, face scrunched up in too much pleasure. 

You feel your body being manoeuvred onto your side as he whispers sweet nothings which pass right through your ears as you feel him softened inside you, the feeling ridiculously soothing for your used up walls, 

"You did amazing, darling." he kisses your temple, not making any move to remove himself from within you, which you silently thanked him for. 

You both lay in silence as you turned your body towards him, earning a hiss and a playful smack from him as it added pressure onto his sensitive member. You wrap your arms around his torso, about to nuzzle into his chest and just drift away to dreamland when you hear the familiar ring of your phone from the table beside the bed. 

You feel Johnny's body shift to reach out to get your phone, looking at the caller ID before handing it to you with a smirk that you knew meant that he was up to no good. "Oh! It's hyuck" you exclaim in shock, quickly accepting the call and placing it near your ear, moving to get away from him. 

But Johnny seemed to have other ideas, as he latched an arm around your torso to keep you from moving, "Hey-" you begin, immediately feeling Johnny experimentally thrust into you again, making you whine, "Y/n! I miss you~-oh hey, are you okay?" you hear Donghyuck's voice from the other side, 

You look at Johnny with a pleading and warning gaze to which you earn yourself a toothy grin from the lad, 

"Of co-course! Just a little.. peachy,'' You turn around to place a hand on his chest to halt his movement, "You don't sound just peachy.. I've heard you like this before!" you hear Donghyuck make those noises he makes when he's thinking as Johnny keeps thrusting lazily the more you look at him, you see him open his mouth to speak, "Oh fuck! You're getting laid, aren't you???" 

"Tell Hyuck daddy says hi"

[mermaidsirennikita]

Do you have any HR recs for when the hero is like,,,,the opposite of a typical rake? Like not at all charismatic or charming but maybe a bit of an introvert/reserved seems kinda stuck up (I'm not doing a good job of this lol) oh I guess someone like westcliff-ish

Yeah!

The Highwayman by Kerrigan Byrne--Always, yes, but really I would say that this fits super well? Dorian Blackwell is a criminal and does like act kind of flirtatious towards the heroine initially... But she and the reader quickly realize that he's actually a big virgin who can't drive and has a touch aversion stemming from trauma pluuuuus this warped idea that his sexual desires are bad and dirty (they are not lmao, he just likes to give it to her a lil rough). He's charismatic, but after his initial emotional barriers are broken you realize that he's quiiiiiite introverted and scared (my baby!).

Thief of Shadows by Elizabeth Hoyt--I wouldn't call Winter Makepeace a rake... at all. He's a virgin, but he also is kind of reserved and disparaging of high society. This could be right up your alley lol. Like, he does kick ass, but he's not... slick.

Unclaimed by Courtney Milan--Another virgin hero, but this guy is more charming. He's like, a good boy, not a snob. Idk if it works, but a rake he is not; I think he basically wrote a public manifesto about wanting to maintain his virginity until he's married/in love?

A Lady by Midnight by Tessa Dare--I just finished this the other night! The hero does fuck around a lot, but he's not a rake lmao. He's kind of gruff and reserved and the heroine just assumes he's not interested when in fact he is soooooo interested. He's not very good at talking, but he's good at fuckin' and fightin'.

Daring Pursuit by Kate Bateman--Out May 24. The hero has slept around a bit, but he's super reserved and un-rakeish. Very Westcliff-like, he wants to be an architect and disapproves of the heroine's freewheeling ways. HAAAARD Lillian/Westcliff vibes in the whole book.

Rules for Engaging the Earl by Janna MacGregor--The hero is a veteran with a chronic injury who's just generally kind of cold and shut off, in part because of his wound. He's very shy and withdrawn, which is often seen as aloofness.

The Earl I Ruined by Scarlett Peckham--This hero is seen as super uptight and socially awkward lol, the heroine assumes he hates her (he does not). He is also... not uptight... on the loooooow....

After Dark with The Duke by Julie Anne Long--Very dignified, aloof, uptight, seriously snobbish middle-aged hero. Runs into a very not-dignified, not aloof, and sexy young opera singer who just makes him so mad!!! What will he do!!! He might have to punish her!!!!!!

The Duchess Hunt by Lorraine Heath--This one is honestly better if you read Scoundrel of My Heart first, where the hero IS more of a rakish type. But both are great, so it's worth it. The hero is a sort of remote, businesslike duke who's just looking for a wife and doesn't want to have to flirt and shit to get her. He just wants a quiet bitch lmao. Who's helping him in his quest? His pretty secretary, who he depends on for any and everything. Everything. E v e r y t h i n g.

Marrying Winterborne by Lisa Kleypas--This might be a controversial opinion, but I would actually say that Rhys Winterborne has a lot of the qualities of Westcliff (who isn't a rake) and Derek Craven (who pretends that he isn't, but he fucked for money and can turn it on when he wants to). He definitely has been around the carousel, but he's also kind of like. Bad at expressing his feelings? And gruff? That's one of the main issues that initially causes conflict with him and Helen. Like, Rhys knows he's a great lay, but he's not gonna sit there and try to wheedle you into the bedroom. He's gonna be like "HERE. HAVE THIS FLOWER. LET'S GO FUCK." Which I like, but it's an issue in the plot lmao.

Dearest Rogue by Elizabeth Hoyt--Another hero with a chronic injury. He's the bodyguard for this young heiress who lost her sight a few years back, and he's very uptight and stodgy and protective. But what if the true danger is him??? Him and the danger and poses to her virginity???

Duke of Midnight by Elizabeth Hoyt--I could see an argument for Maximus being a rake because he's fucked around and can put up a good front, but he's truly just a deeply weird, cold man who happens to get his fires burning for the baddest lady's companion in town. Like, I don't think it's a him thing, it's a him with her specifically thing.

The Raven Prince by Elizabeth Hoyt--The hero is pockmarked and scarred and thinks himself hideous, so he's more of a recluse than a rake. He's considered very rude and only has sex with sex workers by the time the story begins. LITTLE DOES HE KNOW....

Lady Sophia's Lover by Lisa Kleypas--The hero runs the Bow Street Runners (so like... CSI: Miami but with less rules, somehow) but he's like. The leader. So he's very rule-abiding and cool, calm, and collected. Also, he's a widower, and I'm pretty sure he hasn't had sex since his wife died? Enter: the hot young thang he hires as like, a maid or something, not knowing that she wishes to seduce and ruin him for REVENGE.

The Duchess Deal by Tessa Dare--This is another one where it's like, he's scarred. And like, there are two ways in which romance heroes deal with scars. They either put on an eyepatch and like, FULLY EMBRACE THE LOOK, which is what Dorian Blackwell does in The Highwayman; or they go "I AM A MONSTERRRRRR" and just like. Try to only fuck with the lights out. Like this guy! Anyway, this is a more humorous take on the scarred hero, as all Tessa Dare books are a little funnier.

The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie by Jennifer Ashley--This one is really, really good. The hero is seen as rude and cold because he's on the autism spectrum (and also because he was treated horribly his entire life because of it). He's obviously a great guy, he just needs some time to get to know people. Also, what a hot read.

[queenofbaws]

Hi~! How are you? I hope everything is fine!♡

I'm here asking for something with Conrad and Fliss because I miss them so much! Thank you!!

at-least-but-not-exactly-six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

---

Jules and Alex thought they were sooooo slick, didn’t they? They’d seriously singled him out to go get the rest of the beer, when Brad had been sitting right there, and they expected him to, what, not take that to heart? He wasn’t an idiot, he knew what an order as pointed as that meant - ‘I’m sick of your shit, Connie,’ was what JJ had actually meant; ‘Dude, please, just...stop talking for two minutes’ was what Alex had actually meant. He was annoying them. Bugging them. Getting on their last nerves.

Good.

He’d agreed to this little boating vacay for one reason and one reason alone: To hassle the boyfriend and count how many different shades of red his precious sister’s face could turn in the process. At his last count? Five.

He snickered as he headed below deck, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the darker interior of the boat. It wasn’t pitch-black or anything, but it still took him the better part of a minute to find the damn beer, stubbing his toe something wicked in the process. “Motherf - ”

“So which was it?” asked a voice from behind him, his stubbed toe forgotten as he all but jumped right out of his skin. “Did you decide you needed to get away from them, or were you kicked out of the fun and games?”

Once he was absolutely positive he wasn’t making the Home Alone face, Conrad glanced over his shoulder to find Fliss sitting at the table cool as could be, her head resting against the wall and her long (long, long) legs stretched out along the rest of the booth-seat. There was no way she hadn’t seen him jam his whole-ass foot into the cabinet where they’d stowed the beer - no way in hell.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t pretend she hadn’t.

“A little of column A, a little of column B, you know how it goes,” he said, acting like the whole ordeal was really putting him out. “Your sister invites you on a tropical vacation and you think to yourself, ‘Ah, clearly she’s going to want to spend some quality sibling bonding time together!’ Then you actually get there and find out she prefers, y’know, getting proposed to. And not listening to your super engaging stories.”

“Tale as old as time.” Fliss stretched her arms up over her head for a moment, rolling her shoulders for good measure, and then slid out from behind the table. “I mean, you do see the silver lining there, don’t you?”

“Silver lining, silver lining...” he joked, tapping his chin before pointing downwards. “I mean, more beer, for sure. That’s always a plus. Mmm...I don’t have to watch her and Alex get all schmoopy about ‘being in love’ or whatever...” He’d hooked a couple air-quotes with his fingers as he’d said it, but slowly let his hands drop as Fliss walked up to him, closing the distance between them until she was close enough to smooth down the collar of his shirt.

Had he said before that he’d come on this trip to bug Jules? Yeah, yeah that had been mission objective number one for sure, but man oh man if his priorities weren’t starting to shift.

“Those are both true,” Fliss said, not exactly nodding and not exactly smirking, but her tone somehow suggesting both. “Neither were the silver lining I was thinking of.”

“No, huh?” And shit, if they handed out Oscars for acting cool, calm, and collected, he was ready to pick his up at any time. For someone who’d just absolutely wrecked his own foot barely a minute ago, he thought he was doing pretty good in terms of sounding aloof and mysterious and acting like he wasn’t keenly fucking aware of the warmth of Fliss’s palms against his chest and she worked at the first button still fastened there. “Well, captain, I’m...very, very open to suggestions, so I’d love to hear any feedback you have.”

That time her mouth did twitch up into a sly little smile, her eyes sliding from the collar of his shirt up to his. “I was just thinking,” she began, also acting cool, calm, and collected, but actually pulling it off like the consummate professional she was. “Them telling you to get lost does sort of mean we can continue that conversation we were having earlier, doesn’t it?”

“They didn’t tell me to - ” Thankfully, he wasn’t enough of a dumbass to let that one fly over his head. “Oh,” he said, the picture of eloquence. “Oh. Ohoho. I guess that is what it means, isn’t it?”

And because of who he was as a person, he went to say something else, to add another witty quip as punctuation...but Fliss was already kissing him by then, her hands balled up in his shirt and her lips soft against his.

[darter-blue]

Beautiful Rage

Bucky/Zemo

Explicit - 18+ readers only

Helmut clenched his fists to control the shaking. He hadn't meant… hadn't meant to…

Well. That’s a lie.

He had absolutely meant to upset Bucky.

He should have meant to placate him, to twist him against Sam, to keep his leverage but give them enough information to keep them both on his side.

But there's something about the way Bucky holds his jaw. The way his eyes flash with unchecked emotion.

Something about the heat that radiates off of Bucky when he's angry.

Fires under Helmut's skin like a pulse.

And that little outburst, looming over Helmut, ripping the tea cup from his fingers and smashing it against the wall. The cold fury…

Helmut needs to shake it off. This is not what he's here for. This is not part of his plan…

Bucky's beautiful rage, the way it clouds Helmut's judgements, his fixation on bringing it to the surface, is only going to make it harder for him to finish what he started.

It takes almost no time at all for Helmut’s resolve to crumble.

It takes only as far as their next argument, with Sam gone to speak with his sister, to buy himself some small peace, and Helmut fresh from a hot bath, Buky has been sitting too long on his own. Left too long with his own thoughts.

A well placed attack at Bucky’s restlessness, his currently unfulfilled need to be useful, and Bucky is up and at him in a second.

This time with no one to pull him back.

‘What is it that you actually want from me,’ Bucky says, his face so close to Helmut’s face, Helmut can taste the cherry blossom tea on his breath.

He wants to reach up and taste it for real. He wants to bite at that taste, sink his teeth into it. Into Bucky.

He also doesn’t know how to answer that question.

He doesn’t want Bucky to know that, though he’s taken so long to answer, stared so long at Bucky’s mouth… he might not be able to hide it now.

‘You don’t even know? Do you?’

‘I want to finish what I started.’

‘Kill all of us?’ Bucky’s eyes are blazing. His lips are pursed, his jaw is clenched. It throws his whole face into the kind of chiseled righteous fury that Helmut craves.

He shouldn’t push… he can’t afford to push him too far. He needs Bucky to help him find the others. But he needs… he needs to feed off this rage.

'No good will come of allowing super soldiers to live,' Helmut whispers, and it's not a lie.

'And you? You've done so much good with your life?' Bucky asks, whispered just as quietly, not moving back, not giving an inch.

'I've done what was necessary.'

Bucky’s eyes narrow at that. But he doesn't move. Doesn't respond.

'At least I've always done what I thought was right,' he closes the distance between them, speaks the words right into Bucky’s ear, 'At least I've never rolled over and let my enemies enact their evil through me.'

Bucky’s reaction is beautiful. He flinches at the words as if they've struck him. Helmut can feel him shaking. With guilt, or anger, or fear, he isn't sure.

But if Helmut knows anything about Bucky, he knows it will be some combination of all three.

Bucky steps back but Helmut follows him, reaches up a hand to cup his face. 'Such a perfect weapon, Bucky,' he says, tracing a thumb across the stubbled divot of his chin, 'Do you honestly think you can ever be free? So much capacity for death and destruction.'

'I'm more than what they made me,' Bucky fires back, ripping his chin out of Helmut’s hand, 'I'm more than what you see in me.'

'You might think so-' Helmut starts but Bucky cuts him off, stalking forward and pushing Helmut back with the force of his chest, his expression, his power.

Bucky stalks Helmut all the way back into the wall.

‘You want me to be a weapon,’ Bucky says, sneering now, menacing, as he crowds Helmut into the rendered brick of the kitchen wall, ‘you need me to be a weapon,’ he puts his hands on either side of Helmut’s head, leans his face in close, ‘I’m not the only one of us who’s broken, Zemo, I see the way you look at me, the way you land your blows to hit me so right.’

Helmut can’t move, he can’t find any words to reply that won't betray the mess of his feelings right now.

His breath comes faster and faster, his heart pumping blood to all the wrong places. He needs his head, he needs his mind, he doesn’t need his dick to do his thinking.

He doesn’t need for Bucky to be able to feel how broken he is, that this is working. That Bucky has him cornered.

‘You need me to be nothing more than what they made me, because then you can play with me all you want. Isn’t that right? Then you can break me more, you can push me over the edge, and you don’t have to worry that you are becoming everything you hate.’

‘I am nothing like what they made you,’ Helmut says, breathing faster, harder, his chest rising and falling and pressing up against Bucky’s on every inhale.

‘No, you’re not like me,’ Bucky says, and he smiles. Shark-like. Fiercely stunning. ‘You’re like them. You’re just like Hydra.’

And that catches at something jagged in Helmut, something he knows and pretends isn't true.

‘I am nothing like them!’ he snarls, pushes up into Bucky’s face, their noses almost touching.

Bucky lets him.

He doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t pull away.

He takes his vibranium hand off the wall next to Helmut’s face and he runs it down Helmut’s chest. Then he pushes him back into the wall. Holds him there.

‘You know you are,’ Bucky says, still smiling, ‘and you want exactly what they wanted.’ Bucky leans in, ‘You want to use me,’ he takes his flesh hand off the wall, traces a finger down to Helmut’s waist, ‘want to control me,’ pushes his robe aside and trails his hand across bare skin, ‘you want to own me.’

Helmut lets his head fall back against the wall as Bucky’s hand slips down to his dick. Presses on it, wraps his fingers around it.

Helmut means to shake his head, means to deny it, to lie again. But he can’t.

He wants it so much.

‘You want to own me, don’t you.’ And Bucky bites down on Helmuts ear.

Helmut can’t help the breath that escapes him. The way it drags out like a sigh, like a prayer.

‘You want to fuck me open, make me yours.’

It’s not a question. Bucky knows. Helmut hasn’t hidden anything. Hasn’t manipulated anybody but himself.

And even so, Bucky pulls back to look him in the eye. Raises an eyebrow at him, looks for confirmation.

Because despite everything they’ve done to him, at his core, Bucky is a good man.

Helmut wants to burn that out of him.

It's terrifying how dangerous Bucky is. The raw power, not just from the poison in his blood, but the vibranium in his arm, the force of his rage.

It's terrifying and it's magnificent.

He can't let Bucky get the better of him, he needs to take back his control.

The victory here belongs to Helmut.

He tests Bucky by pushing against his weight, and at first Bucky pushes back, but then almost immediately he relents.

'You okay?' He asks, voice shaking.

And it rings in Helmut’s ears, that affectation, the way he has rattled Bucky. He uses his sudden leverage to press even further forward, and he looks up into Bucky’s beautiful face.

'I'm never going to be okay,' he says, voice calm, using every measurable unit of control in his body to keep still. To keep steady. 'You and your Avengers made sure of it.'

Bucky's face closes over, but his stance loosens further, his shoulders slump, and Helmut seizes the opportunity to push Bucky to his knees.

And Bucky lets him - be it sense memory or innate supplication, whatever the reason - Bucky lets Helmut push him to the ground.

Helmut ignores his hesitation, focuses instead on the storm in Bucky's eyes, the rise of his chin. The way Bucky has made this his choice, even now.

Helmut mimics his movements from earlier to cup Bucky under the chin, takes his other hand and runs it through his hair, grips it hard and pulls, snaps Bucky’s head back.

'Open your mouth for me, like the good little soldier you are.'

And Jesus, Helmut has to swallow down his moan at the way Bucky does exactly what he's told. At the way Bucky opens for him. Never dropping eye contact.

As if this is exactly what he wanted.

Helmut should take that, should let it stop him. Should pause now. Not give him what he wants. But it's too late.

He's too far gone.

And Helmut is already sliding his cock into that open mouth with delicious abandon.

The slick wet warmth, so tight, so sweet, it draws him forward. He yanks at his grip on Bucky’s hair, uses it like a stronghold to keep Bucky in place (though he could never; Bucky is so much stronger) to pull out and then slam all the way back in.

He looks down into those steel blue eyes and catches the fire there. And it spurs him on, to pull out and push back, to slam his hips forward. To fuck Bucky’s face, to own him, and be owned, and throw everything away on the power, and the powerlessness of this feeling.

Of the way Bucky hollows his cheeks to keep that wet heat deliciously tight, an action that only exacerbates the sharp cut of his cheekbones, only intensifies the beauty of his supplication.

Every thrust brings Helmut closer and closer to a complete loss of control. And every thrust feels more and more like tipping over the edge.

'You are mine,' Helmut says, as much to reinforce that idea to himself as to Bucky. 'I own you.'

Bucky doesn't move to agree or disagree. Only slides his hands up Helmut's thighs to pull him closer.

'Oh god,' Helmut cries out, throwing his head back as Bucky sucks harder, as Helmut’s cock pulses. 'So good,' he looks down, pulls tighter on Bucky's hair, 'my perfect little soldier,' and he means every word to be a barb, but they miss the mark so completely. Because he feels it too damn much.

And Bucky… Bucky knows it.

Bucky is smiling around Helmut’s cock as he draws it in, as he takes every thrust.

It's too much. The smile, the fire in his eyes, the warmth of his mouth, the way Helmut’s cock hits the back of Bucky's throat.

The way he can put all of his force into yanking Bucky's newly shorn hair, and Bucky just takes it like it’s a gift.

It's too much. He can't hold on.

He pulls out just in time to feel his orgasm wash over him, to spray come all over Bucky's lips and chin.

And Bucky...

Bucky happily opens his mouth to it. Closes his eyes and accepts it, rapturous.

He chases the mess on his lips with his tongue, wipes at it with a vibranium thumb and sucks it clean.

Helmut doesn't mean to run his hands through Bucky's hair. Doesn't mean to trace a finger down his face, let it linger across his swollen red lips.

'Such a good boy,' he says quietly. And then he bends down to pick up his robe, turns around. And walks away.

He doesn't feel victorious at all.

[puppy-prose]

Hey there! I saw that you were taking requests and I thought I'd drop you a line. I'm obsessed with Geralt/Jaskier right now, so anything that you write would be amazing. Two prompts that I have in mind are 1) College!AU where Jaskier and Geralt are sharing a room in student accommodation. Jaskier has the hots for Geralt (obvs) and thinks he's being sneaky having a wank at night but Geralt totally knows ;) also 2) Geralt as a werewolf. I dig your kinks list, so if either of those take your fancy

I'd love to read what you come up with. The smuttier, the better imo! warnings // mild rape fantasy, spit as lube, light/unintentional voyeurism

It wasn’t fair, Jaskier decided, that somehow, he’d ended up with one of the sexiest men in the whole college as his dormmate. 

Geralt had everything. The muscles, the brains, the kindness. He was mysterious and gruff, but welcoming and warm once one got to know him. He got straight A’s, looked like he belonged to a motor gang, and was an incredibly considerate roommate--a fact that Jaskier had to not only get used to, but also absorb some himself, if only to show Geralt that he was worth sticking around with and not ask for a transfer. 

After all, being in the same dorm meant that he got to see Geralt in many stages. He got to see him sweaty and tired after coming back from the gym; he got to see him damp from the shower, his unfairly gorgeous white hair still dripping down the lines of his neck despite Geralt’s attempts at getting them decently dry. He got to see Geralt wolf down food when he missed a meal for some reason or another--got to watch him as he did the dishes every time he cooked like some god of roommate-ing or something--got to be there when Geralt was sleepy and yawning, his unfairly sharp canine teeth on display, his warm eyes soft, his entire body screaming vulnerability. Hell, sometimes Jaskier even got to touch, combing out his hair when Geralt had had enough of it, patching him up when he inevitably got in another fight trying to protect someone or another. 

So, yeah. Jaskier had maybe-kind-of-really fallen head over heels for Geralt. So what? No big deal. He’d had crushes before; he’d pined and whined and sought out love where it wasn’t reciprocated. But gods. He’d never had to spend night after night, sleeping in the same room as that crush, their beds on opposite walls, so fucking close. He’d never had to go through the inevitable stage of jacking off to that crush nearly every night knowing that that person was right there and, in Geralt’s case, had really kind of freaky super-hearing. 

Didn’t stop him from doing it anyway, though.

Turned on his side, facing the wall away from Geralt, Jaskier let his hands slide slowly under his blankets. It was easy to get his pajama pants down, pushing them to his knees, his cock already half-hard just from the sight he’d been treated to just before they’d turned the lights out--Geralt, grunting and huffing as he stretched out his shoulders and back from a long workout session, shirtless, his muscles rippling, tensing, loosening… Jaskier shoved his bottom lip between his teeth as he conjured the memory up with ease, eyes fluttering shut as he imagined it. 

Those muscles would look so good above him. Geralt, flexing and strong, bearing him down into the mattress. Gods, Geralt could take whatever he wanted, he realized, and the thought made his cock twitch in his hand, plumping up more. So it was going to be one of those fantasies tonight, he supposed.

Sliding his hand back up, he reached below his pillow. Thankfully, Geralt was also considerate enough to generally leave Jaskier’s things alone, unless they were directly in his way. Which meant he had no idea about the bottle of lube that practically lived somewhere in his bed at all times, in case he brought someone home--or in case something like this happened. He pulled it out and uncorked it, trying to muffle the pop of the cap as quietly as he could in his side, before dribbling some onto his palm. Again, he used his body to muffle the noise as he closed the lid and left it beside him, hand returning to his cock once again. 

Yeah, he thought. Geralt was so fucking strong. It wouldn’t take much at all for him to pin Jaskier down. He could drag an arm behind his back, hold it there, keep him pressed into the bed. His fingers, perhaps wet by his own spit, Geralt having shoved them into his mouth to keep him quiet, keep him from raising any alarm, would slide between his legs, push against his hole. It’d be humiliating, his own roommate opening him up, none too gentle about it, spreading him--and gods, Jaskier knows he’d be moaning by then, hope of fleeing gone, desire to flee gone. Maybe Geralt would make fun of him for it, too.

Choking down a whine, Jaskier shifted in the bed. He turned onto his back, spreading his legs open as much as he could, trousers kicked down to his ankles. His hand fell from his cock, down past it, sliding between the cheeks of his own ass until he could press one, then two slick fingers inside. It burned a little; he really should have added more lube. But that slight pain was perfect for the way his thoughts were going. 

Keeping his eyes closed, he let his mind return. Imagining a weight on his chest, pretending the bed at his back was Geralt bearing down on him and the heavy blankets atop him was the bed he was being shoved into--it was very hard to open himself on his stomach while remaining lying down to avoid Geralt’s detection, he’d found--he pushed his free hand under his body, pinning it behind his back. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best he could do.

“Fucking slut,” he imagined Geralt would say, scissoring inside of him, his own fingers mimicking the fantasy. “Can’t wait for me to take you, can you? You’re already wet for me, like a bitch in heat.”  

Geralt, surely, was too nice to actually say any of that. Jaskier wanted, though. He wanted so fucking badly. That gravelly voice, the uncaring drawl he’d have, just like all the times he’d warned off assholes on their nights out at pubs or wherever, just before punches would start flying. Only with him, Geralt would push in a third finger, make him take the intrusion whether he was ready or not, and--

“G-Ger…”

Jaskier twisted his hand free from behind his back, shoving it flat against his own mouth. Fuck. He shook from the strain, his cock brushing against the blankets above him, and he wanted nothing more than to rock up into them--but he stayed still, very very still, listening as Geralt gave a soft sigh from the other side of the room, readjusted himself, and settled back down. 

He controlled his breathing as best he could for a few more minutes, wanting to make sure. If Geralt found out about this… Jaskier wouldn’t be surprised if he was tossed out on his ass, perhaps with a report to the RA, or even the Dean of the school. No, he had to be very, very careful about this. Even if he didn’t want to be.

But nothing happened during those minutes. So carefully, cautiously, Jaskier started to move his fingers again. He’d gotten up to three, just like his fantasy, before having to stop. The minutes had taken some of the burn away, though, and he had to stretch them out, fingers pulling apart to get it back, his eyes rolling up into his head at the sheer pleasure that sparked through him. It felt so fucking good, and while they weren’t Geralt’s fingers, it didn’t take away the heat that coursed through him, heady and strong. 

He kept them stretched, kept them wide apart as he imagined Geralt pulling his own fingers back out. Maybe Geralt would finally use the lube on his cock--or maybe, maybe, he'd make Jaskier choke on it instead, get it wet and slick from his own spit. And gods, that was a thought, and before he knew it, he had his own fingers in his mouth, hole fluttering around the new emptiness, his breathing hard, nearly panting around the digits pressing wide and deep into his mouth. It was a messy business; thank goodness tomorrow was his laundry day. But it was too good to stop, and he was shivering with want, hips giving tiny twitches against the blankets when he finally withdrew his fingers. 

“See?” Geralt would say. “Such a cockslut. Getting off on sucking my dick. Bet you could come like that, couldn’t you? I could force my cock down into your throat, make you gag on it, and you’d take it just as well as if I were fucking you.”  

Another little whimper escaped him, but Jaskier was, decidedly, a little too far gone to care. He pushed his fingers back inside of himself, not bothering to take it slow, his back arching a few degrees off the bed in reaction. He had to shove his hand over his mouth again to keep his sounds in, to keep from begging and keening like he wanted to, caught up in the fantasy, in the thought of Geralt fucking into him, making him take every inch, making him raw and aching and sore, filling him to the fucking brim--

There was a whisper of sound, a brush of air, just enough to get Jaskier’s attention, and when he opened his eyes-- oh fuck.  

A dark face stood over him, silver strands of hair framing him. Geralt. Geralt. Oh, fucking shit.  

Jaskier pulled his fingers out of himself, the obscenely wet sound of it suddenly loud in the silent dorm, the blankets on him too hot, his mind blanking for something to say. “Ger--Geralt!” he squeaked, dropping his hand from his mouth, his pupils still blown wide, his cock still hard and full beneath the very meager protection of the sheets. “This--this isn’t--it’s not what it, uh, what it looks like, I’m just--”

“Having a wank with my name in your mouth?” Geralt rumbled back at him, his brow raised. Jaskier withered, his lips pressing together. He’d really cocked this one up, hadn’t he? Shit. How was he going to make this up? Would he even be given the chance to try to fix it?

“I’m--look I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, let me just--”

A hand fitted over his mouth--but this time, it wasn’t Jaskier’s own. No, it was Geralt’s, his callouses rough on his soft lips, shutting him up. He swallowed hard, nearly audible, not sure what Geralt was going to do. 

“You really should be more quiet,” Geralt told him. Then, to Jaskier’s surprise, the hand turned, and-- fuck. Geralt pushed two fingers against his lips, making them part, pressing in and sliding the pads of the digits against his tongue, pushing it down. “Every night, Jaskier. Every night for the past week. So stupidly loud. You really thought I wouldn’t notice?” He bent down, then, breaking the distance between them. Jaskier whimpered, not trying to close his mouth, nearly cross eyed in an attempt to see Geralt clearly. “You really think I wouldn’t want to fuck you if you asked?”

Oh. Oh.  

Geralt must have seen the realization in his eyes. A smirk pulled up his lips; the next moment, Geralt snagged the blankets from the bed, throwing them unceremoniously to the floor. He pulled his fingers from his mouth, only to wipe them on Jaskier’s cheek, spreading his own spit. Jaskier whined. “Geralt, I--”

“Shush,” the other man said. He got up on the bed with him, pulling Jaskier’s legs around him, letting him dig his heels into the small of his back. Jaskier realized, with a thrill, that Geralt had gotten rid of his own trousers on the way over. His head threw back as their cocks pressed together, Geralt rutting down onto him mercilessly. “You don’t want everyone to hear, do you?” His hands found Jaskier’s wrists; pulling them up, he pinned them above his head with one hand, those incredible muscles flexing, the slats of moonlight through the window throwing each one into sharp relief. Jaskier opened and closed his hands, but didn’t fight back--didn’t want to. 

Geralt’s free hand wrapped around them both. He gave a choked sob, doing his best to bite down on it, keep it in. He was spared, though, by Geralt bending and kissing him. It was a brutal thing. Tongue and teeth and force, Geralt opened him up, licked his way inside his mouth. It was so much--too much--and his lips were swollen and red when Geralt pulled back to instead start sucking on his throat, teeth gnawing bruises to the surface, tongue soothing the sting of them. They were high, too, a few just below his jaw; there was no way he’d be able to hide these marks. Geralt was making it very clear that Jaskier was owned. That Jaskier was his. And fuck, that had the power to turn him into a writhing mess, only keeping from babbling because Geralt had commanded him to be quiet. 

Geralt’s hand moved from their cocks, then. He slid it down to his entrance, pushing two fingers inside—then grunting with surprise before adding a third, resistance appearing only at that point. “Fuck,” he growled, biting down on the crook of Jaskier’s neck and shoulder, making his entire body feel like it was turning to mush. “Thought you’d only gotten to two fingers. But you were really fucking yourself, weren’t you? No wonder you were moaning so loud.” Unwittingly, he mimicked Jaskier from only minutes before; he spread his fingers, forcing them wide open. This time, though, Jaskier couldn’t stop the desperate cry the fell from his lips, hips jerking, tears springing to his eyes from the delicious burn, the wonderful stretch. 

He kept pushing, kept opening Jaskier until he was practically sobbing, his thighs trembling against the sides of Geralt’s hips. Finally, though, he seemed to take mercy on him. 

He withdrew his fingers, instead grabbing Jaskier’s hands and pressing them to either side of his head, holding him down. With Jaskier’s legs around him, it was easy to rock their hips together, his cock sliding obscenely in the crevice of his ass, snagging on the rim of his entrance with each push upwards. “I’m gonna fuck you, Jask,” he growled to the man below him, who simply nodded frantically, eager. “Gonna make you scream.”  

“Please,” Jaskier agreed frantically, nodding, flushed red and unable to hold still, twitching and shivering underneath Geralt. “Please, please, I want you to! Please, fuck me!”

Geralt’s chuckle was low, dark. He nipped Jaskier’s lower lip, carefully lined himself up���and slammed in. 

His promise came true. Jaskier howled, his back arching, his heels dragging Geralt in closer. He made for a beautiful sight, utterly wrecked from just the first thrust, and Geralt was more than happy to make sure he had his fill. He didn’t hold back, either. Jaskier was already stretched. So Geralt set a brutal, punishing pace. 

The slap of their bodies was obscene in the room, Jaskier’s cries of Geralt’s name both embarrassing and a relief to finally be able to say without repercussions. Geralt kept his hands pinned—again, no doubt bruises would be his friend come tomorrow, and Jaskier couldn’t be more excited—as he kept pounding into him, pushing him into the mattress, the bed frame creaking with the force of it all. 

Geralt kissed him again, rough, taking what he wanted. He seemed to speed up; Jaskier could do nothing but take it, delirious with pleasure, the pressure in the low of his hips building and building. 

Then, Geralt bit down on his throat, just below his ear. “Come for me,” he commanded, gravelly and dark and powerful—so much better than how Jaskier had imagined it. And so much more effective. A few thrusts later and Jaskier practically screamed, his body going taut as he came, painting between them white with his release, cock twitching until he was empty. But Geralt—Geralt kept going. 

It dragged pained whimpers from him, the overstimulation too much, too soon. “I’ve got you,” Geralt told him, soothing him, settling him into accepting it. “Fuck, Jask. I’ve got you. Gonna fill you up. Make you take every last drop of my cum.” 

Head thrown back, at Geralt’s mercy, Jaskier could do nothing but let him fuck into him, trembling through every inch. But finally— finally Geralt came. He snarled with it, his teeth snapping into Jaskier’s shoulder, holding him down as he pumped him full of his seed. He rocked into him, slower, shallower, as if trying to push his cum further into Jaskier, only stopping when he was growing soft inside him. 

With care, Geralt pulled out. He shushed the tired whine that fell from Jaskier’s lips, turning him on his side and sidling up behind him. Jaskier floated pleasantly, sated and wrecked, utterly fucked out. Gods, his fantasies had never come close. Double gods— his fantasies might actually become a reality, now. Holy shit.

“Next time,” Geralt said, hooking a leg over top of his, keeping him tucked in close. “Just wake me up when you get horny.”

Oh, Jaskier thought. Hopefully Geralt didn’t mind missing a lot of sleep.

[scandalsavagefanfic]

Yay 200!!! Though my first instinct was awww only 200 want to ALWAYS see what this amazing person has going on! I'm so glad to be one of them. How are even your small prompts so hot! I love your work! Can I get a possessive or jealous Bruce/Jason? Or possessive AND jealous? I love the idea that Bruce hates Jason being away for any period of time because he hates other people looking at him and can't imagine someone not wanting him.

You guys are so sweet!

I don’t know, maybe it has been slow going for the followers thing but it feels fast you know? Especially since no one I know personally is on tumblr and only like three people in my life even know that I do this.

Anywho, sorry this took so long. For like five days I’d sit with the file open and write a couple sentences and then lose focus and motivation.

But it’s the longest one yet so… yay?

200 Followers Celebratory Prompt-A-Thon

(Prompts are closed. Thank you to everyone sent one in! I’ll be filling them the rest of the week for however long it takes to write the last few! And a big thank you to everyone who follows me!)

Jason/Bruce 

Words: 2635

Rating: Explicit (sounding, electroplay[?], restraints, sensory deprivation)

Super long. Read on AO3 if you’d rather.

Mine

This is not really Jason’s scene. The loud throbbing musicthat plays the same basic beat the wholenight, the lights, the dancing, the overpriced drinks. Roy was excited whentheir target chose this place but Jason had tried to wiggle out of going insideat all.

Unfortunately, he’s more the guy’s type than Roy and a lothangs on sabotaging this weapons shipment. So, Jason’s sitting in a badly lit,semi-private corner, flirting (badly) with this piece of scum, pretending to beunbothered by the big, sweaty hand creeping higher up his thigh. He downs his sixth$20 drink, a little surprised the guy hasn’t tried to drug him yet, and wondersvaguely how far he’s going to have to go. They have what they need but Jasondoesn’t think the guy’s the type to take no for an answer when he obviouslythinks he has it in the bag. And he doesn’t think a rejection and a brawl willmake the guy likely to keep up his end on the business side of things.

He’s just considering slipping a sedative into the asshole’sdrink himself when the man’s words suddenly slur and his eyelids start to getheavy until he finally slumps over.

Jason blinks at him for moment, trying to get the blurrededges of his vision to sharpen up a bit. He’s pretty tipsy now…

…did he slip the sedative into the drink? He remembersthinking about it but not actually doing it…

Jason gives the guy a poke, just to make sure.

Out like a light.

Well, then.

Now that the rest of his evening is free, and now that thearms dealer isn’t pawing at him, he thinks it might be a good idea to go takeadvantage of these lowered inhibitions with someone he wants to be with.

He doesn’t notice the sleazewith the dark sunglasses and 70’s porn-stache, chewing on match, watching himclosely as he gracefully stumbles from the club and into a cab.

Jason jumps comically when Bruce flips the light on. Likehe’s a teenager trying to sneak back into the house without his parentsnoticing. Or rather a lover trying to sneak into bed when their partner isasleep.

It’s a little dramatic. But he’s not happy.

“You smell like a toilet,” he snaps.

“‘mkay, first of all,” Jason slurs, just a little, notenough to be concerning, “I smell like a club.”

His jacket slides off his shoulders and his t-shirt slipsover his head, tousling his hair, in a single smooth motion. For a split-secondBruce thinks he may be playing up how much alcohol he had. Then he tumbles overtrying to kick off his boots.

“Second of all,” he continues a moment later, head poppingup over the foot of the bed, “’m too far away for you to smell me.”

Bruce scowls at him as he crawls up the bed, obviouslyhaving taken the opportunity to remove his slacks and briefs. It’s difficultnot to give in to those pouty lips and that lecherous smirk.

Soon, he tells himself, but on his terms.

Jason pulls the covers off of him with a grin and creeps uphis body, kissing his way up clothed thighs and naked chest, until he’snibbling at Bruce’s ear and sitting on his hips.

“And third, old man, you smell like a club too.”

He has Jason flipped onto his back, wrists caught in his unyieldinggrasp and pinned up by his ears, before the boy can even think about reacting.Bruce allows himself a small smile. Jason’s slower reflexes is going to be afun benefit.

“You let that filthy criminal put his hands all over you,”Bruce accuses with a dangerous edge.

Jason wriggles beneath him making what Bruce thinks is anhonest effort to get out of his grip. “’s the job, B. Don’ overrea—”

His glassy eyes narrow. “You drugged m’ contact?”

“You weren’t leaving yourself any options for an out thatdidn’t include a trashy sexual encounter in a grimy public bathroom,” hegrowls, pulling Jason’s arms up toward the cuffs, tucked carefully under thepillow.

“Would’ve been the alley,” Jason teases, smiling slyly,watching Bruce’s face as the he locks the younger man’s wrists in therestraints. Specially made at Jason’s request. The only thing that can openthem is Bruce’s fingerprint. No lock to pick. Too wide and too tailored to Jason’sexact measurements to be able to dislocate his thumb.

Bruce thumbs his nipple for the happy sigh that followsbefore pinching it between his fingers and twisting sharply.

“Ow—hey!”

“You know you’re mine,” Bruce hisses, “You know you’re notallowed to have anyone else, to let anyone else have you.”

He keeps torturing the one nipple, tugging and tweaking, buthe takes the other between his lips and sucks gently, flicking his tongue overthe already hardened bud, pulling back to blow cool air onto the spit-slickskin and watch it pebble, before returning.

Jason gasps and whines and bucks his hips up, searching forthe friction that Bruce denies him by pulling his lower body away.

“B, please—“ he breaths, already so needy, “Jus’ th’ job… you-youknow that…”

“And you know that doesn’t matter.”

Bruce had returned via batplane. He’d had plenty of time toprepare for Jason’s arrival before the cab had pulled into the drive.

He reaches under the pillow again and retrieves hispreviously selected tools, pausing on the way back to fix the sleep mask overJason’s eyes.

Jason whines again and thrashes around. “No games tonight, B,please? Jus’ wan’ you to fuck me,” he thrusts his hips again, lowers his voiceinto that husky, lustful baritone that Bruce has trouble resisting, “Hard.Rough… please.”

Bruce runs his thumb over the boy’s lip, slipping it justout of reach when Jason tries to take it into his mouth. Then leans forward andnibbles softly on his earlobe.

“So impatient,” Bruce mutters directly into Jason’s ear,letting his lips whisper across the shell and smiling when Jason shuddersbeneath him, “We’ll get there, don’t worry. I’m just going to take my time.”

“C’mon, Bruce, don’t—mmff!”

Jason’s lips look good stretched around the shiny metalring. Not as good as they do wrapped around Bruce’s cock but a close second. Hetaps a blunt nail on the helpless boy’s teeth, just for fun, then reaches backto his small pile.

“Now, if there’s something you honestly can’t handle, you’lltap your foot against me or knock the cuffs into the wall three times. Nod ifyou agree,” Bruce grins when Jason’s head bobs up and down emphatically. Heknows how much Jason loves these games, despite his prior objection.

“Tonight we’re doing something different. No pain, you handlepain so well you’ve turned it into an art,” Bruce rumbles low, nipping Jason’scollarbone lightly, “Tonight’s about pleasure. Your pleasure. As much as youcan take. And then more.”

He reaches up and fits the noise-cancelling headphones overJason’s ears, earning what he expects to be the first of many surprised littlegasps. Then he clips a nipple clamp to the one he’d been twisting, not tootight, just enough to pinch. That gets him a little moan.

Bruce softly traces the lines of Jason’s muscles, slowlytraveling down until he can ghost his fingers over Jason’s still mostly softbut quickly filling cock.

Lucky, Brucethinks, if he’d gotten too carried away he either wouldn’t be able to do thisnext part or he’d have to wait for Jason to calm down.

The longer he takes getting things together the harderJason’s body trembles at the lack of contact, in anticipation. His breath comesout faster, panting, often rounding out into full whimpers from the back of histhroat. Bruce watches him, captivated by the way the muscles move underbeautifully scarred skin, as he grasps the silicone handle firmly and slicksthe rod.

Jason inhales sharply and throws his head to the side whenBruce touches the bulbous end of the rose-bud sound to the slit at the head ofhis cock, but otherwise goes still so that he doesn’t get hurt.

Bruce slowly and deliberately pushes the little metal bulletinto him. He can’t tear his eyes away from the tiny muscle twitches as Jasontries to remain unmoving; as his control is tested the longer Bruce lingers.  It takes minutes for the rod to sink all theway to the hilt, Bruce purposefully holding it back, and even then, he’d havewaited longer. But Jason gets too hard too fast for Bruce to take the risk.

When the fat tip is nestled deep in Jason’s shaft, Brucesecures the attached glans ring just under the head. It’ll make the younger maneven more sensitive.

He smiles at the questioning noise Jason makes when hesticks a small adhesive pad to his perineum. Then, carefully so he doesn’t tipJason off, Bruce connects the wire coming out the pad to the slot at the end ofthe sound’s silicone handle.

Immediately Jason jolts and cries out in surprise andpleasure. With the power supply connected, the bulb deep inside Jason’s dick,as well as the area of sensitive skin beneath the pad, send out a strong electricalcurrant.

Bruce watches for several minutes as the pressure builds. Mesmerizedas the warm, throbbing, sensation tingles up Jason’s body which almostinstantly flushes vivid pink. He thrusts into the air, knees falling openwider, toes curling into the sheets, heels digging into the mattress, knucklesturning white from gripping the bar of the headboard his restraints are attachedto.

The noises coming out of his open, drooling, mouth aresinful and gorgeous and Bruce is positive that he could come just from watchingJason thrash, listening to him whimper and moan.

“Exquisite,” he praises, ghosting his fingertips over Jason’sflexing abdominal muscles, knowing he can’t hear him, “You don’t have any ideahow beautiful you are, do you?”

He lightly flicks the hot, red, head of Jason’s cock whichgets him a loud wanton groan and more needy presses of his hips.

Moving lower, Bruce finally slips two, still slick fingersinto Jason’s fluttering hole and immediately starts gently massage his prostate,rubbing soft little circles into the gland, stimulating it from the insidewhile the electricity coursing out from adhesive pad powering the sound stimulatesit from the outside.

There’s no uncertainty in Bruce’s mind that, if he couldhave come, Jason would have done so in moments. As it is, with his cock stuffedfull and pinched off he just wriggles with increasing desperation, moaning andgasping and sobbing so loud Bruce is positive Alfred and Damian will be able tohear him.

Bruce is content to watch. It’s not long before Jason isglistening with a sheen of sweat in the low lamplight, every muscle tensing andtwitching under beautiful scared skin, involuntary shudders wracking his bodyin inconsistent intervals.

Leaning forward, Bruce begins to press tender, suckingkisses to each of Jason’s scars, working his way up to the nipple clamp. Hedoesn’t let up, keeps the pace of his fingers buried in Jason’s tight, velvetpassage steady, the pressure firm but gentle, and adds a third digit.

As Jason inhales sharply and clenches down, Bruce bites downon the clamp and pulls it free from Jason’s chest, quickly returning to suck onthe angry nub. Then pulling back, he lets his breath chill the wet spot makingJason shiver and giving him goosebumps.

Then he moves up higher, starts kissing away the tearsstreaming down the younger man’s face at the onslaught of pleasure.

Jason leans into him, nuzzling his face then his hair whenBruce starts mouthing at his neck and shoulders, leaving behind little purpleblooms.

“-lease!” Jason pleadsas best he can without access to his lips.

He’s hysterical, sobbing and tossing his head side to side,grinding his hips into the bed only to move them up again, searching forfriction, saying the partial word over and over and over again.

Bruce just stares at him for a few more moments. This issuch a rare sight. His boy coming apart, a fully wrecked, debauched mess,overwhelmed with pleasure. Giving into something other than the pain. Losingcontrol to something better.

Finally, Bruce removes his fingers, is treated to a noisesomewhere between relief and regret, and touches the head of his own leakingerection to the eager hole. Then he reaches up and removes the noise cancelingheadphones with his free hand, followed by the sleep mask.

Jason’s lids are squeezed closed, thick lashes wet andclumped together. He doesn’t seem to notice the blinding fabric is gone untilBruce swipes his thumb over one of the lids.

They flutter open to reveal a clouded gaze over blazinggreen irises, only the barest hint of their original blue visible.

Jason’s expression clears a little as they lock eyes. Keepinghis clean hand cupped around the side of the boy’s face, Bruce slides into himwith a sigh and starts a lazy, deeppace.

Jason rolls his hips in time with Bruce’s unhurried thrusts.For once, he doesn’t doesn’t try to make Bruce go harder or faster or hold himdown, he just… he just takes.

It doesn’t take much time for Bruce to catch up. With hisdirty hand he slowly detaches the ring around Jason’s cock and pulls the soundout as his boy whimpers. With his other hand he unhooks the gag before pressinghis thumb to the fingerprint scanner and freeing Jason from the cuffs.

His boy is on him with all the speed you’d expect fromsomeone who spends his life dodging bullets. Jason’s big arms wrap aroundBruce’s shoulders, his ankles cross in the small of his back as Jason flingshimself up into Bruce’s space more fully.

“Bruce—“ hebreathes in prayer before their lips meet. The kiss is softer, deeper, thanBruce was expecting. It’s languid, full of adoration. Loving.

“My perfect boy,” Bruce rumbles, “Mine. No one else’s.”

“O-only yours,” Jason murmurs, barely able to form the words.

“Only mine,” Bruce hums, tightening his hold and punctuatingthe praise with a final thrust before emptying himself deep inside.

Jason follows right behind him, the feel of Bruce fillinghim up sending him over the edge. He comes hard.They both blink in tired surprise when warm, sticky liquid lands on Bruce’scheek.

Then Jason, still looking like a lust drunk dream, smiles,runs his fingers through Bruce’s hair, leans forward and licks his own come offBruce’s face.

Bruce watches him the whole way, enraptured. And beforeJason can swallow, Bruce captures his chin and brings their lips back together,sharing the taste.

Jason sags into him, boneless and exhausted. Bruce holds himfor a long while, petting his hair, rubbing at the knots in his back, hummingwords of admiration into his ear, until he falls asleep.

Bruce rests him back against the pillows, tucking him into thecovers, before making his way to the bathroom. He chugs a couple glasses ofwater and brings back another large glass for Jason in case he wakes up.

He crawls back into the bed, careful not to jostle themattress too much and turns off the light.

The moment he lies down Jason shifts closer, curling upagainst his side, head resting on Bruce’s arm, and sighing contentedly in hissleep.

Bruce plays with Jason’s hair as he tries to fall asleep,images of the younger man in the throws of ecstasy flashing behind his lids.

“All mine,” he says into the darkness, “Never giving youup.”