#no bc lets talk about his silk press

[lightningandfireinmybones]

God the macro counting thing is so true for him.. I once briefly dated a guy who did not "like" sugar and when I asked about it he responded with AND I QUOTE "what use do I have for it" like ???? PLEASE meanwhile I turn into a demon if I don't eat sugar every 5 hours. we did not work out but bless his self-punishing ass and 8 pack! Also once read someone saying modern aemond is patrick bateman coded which unfortunately is very true. Like you know that man has a 20 step skincare and haircare routine with the bougiest well-researched products (this is also true of westeros aemond like have you seen that silky mane that man had the westerosi version of a hair straightener invented to wake up 3 hours early brush his hair 500 times, straighten it with an iron, and put 10 different oils and creams into it before he is ready to go out). modern aemond is the same. wakes up at 4 am for his insane wellness and beauty morning routine he has to get through before it's scheduled time to wake up his wife by eating her out

BESTIE same i dated a guy who didn’t even like fruit bc he said it was just too much,,, and while it ended as poorly as his attitude the self punishment had indeed paid off, why are men like this!!!!

AND I’M HOLLERING bc he is so patrick bateman,,, this man’s apartment is immaculate, his hair is pristine, his skincare is meticulously thought out for all million steps, his nails are perfection (which all the better bc when he goes and acts as his wife’s alarm clock, they better be both clean and smooth bc they’re going inside of her almost immediately)

i think this man is just someone who doesn’t need as much sleep as regular people, bc he’s up at 4, going to the gym, doing his routine, making valaena breakfast, and waking her up on time to drive her to get her little sugary coffee before work

every part of his life is ordered, controlled, especially his routine 

[httpiastri]

control freak – ln4

lando hates a lot of things. not being in control is definitely one of them.

genre: smut

pairing: female reader x lando norris

warnings: smut 🤭 i dont remember what it's called? but lando gets tied up. he likes to be in control, so i guess dom!lando is kinda insinuated. it's a bit dirtyyy but there are also some soft elements bcs who would i be to not include those :)

requested?: yes! thank you for requesting 🤍 (requests are still open!)

author's note: this was supposed to be just a blurb but something happened lol. also, very much inspired by this ask and the just him talking about how he needs to be in control in that video. this thought has been living in my mind rent-free since that moment. hope u all enjoyyyy<3<3 (if this doesn’t work this time. idk what to do. anyways.)

f1 masterlist

18+ content below, minors dni!

–

"there we go..." you say, leaning back slightly and letting go of lando's wrist. "you alright?"

"my hands, yes. my ego, however..."

earlier this year, you and lando had agreed to buy one of those adult christmas calendars, one with a new toy or tool for the bedroom every day. so far, you'd gotten a blindfold, a massaging oil, and even a smaller vibrator. and today's present? a pair of sleek, white silk ribbons.

lando had immediately pulled the little strings out of the box, measuring them around your wrists. but you had shook your head, snatching them out of his hands and telling him it was his turn.

he had just cocked an eyebrow at you, assuming you were kidding. but the grin you had worn, one that told him that you were fully serious, had made him chuckle, rolling his eyes. no way, he'd told you, giving you a pat on the head before he leaned down against his pillow again. he had assumed this would be a lost cause for you, because there was no way he was letting you expose him to one of the things he hates.

lando hates a lot of things. number one: he hates not being in control, and he hates it so much.

the fact that he needs to be in control is very well-known in your relationship, and it applies to most situations. he needs to be the one driving, even if you're just going on a short trip to the supermarket; he needs to know who's invited to a dinner party so he can plan ahead; and of course, he feels a need for power in the bedroom.

but you are nothing if not persistent. lando is the very definition of stubborn, sure, but you would not give up on this one.

your boyfriend always thought you must be some kind of witch, because your effect on him is paranormal. the way you bat your eyes at him, your soft touch on his cheek, and your sweet kisses lingering on his lips – they could get him to agree to almost anything. even this, apparently.

since today was a friday, you had gone out for dinner and some drinks tonight before hurrying back home to try out your new present. lando was still a bit hesitant, but your lips pressed against his and your hips brushing his crotch as you sat on his lap on your bed made him give up yet again.

and that's how you find yourselves here, him already stripped out of everything except his boxers, with the sleek white ropes connecting him to the headboard. you twirl the fabric by his right wrist around your finger one final time, smiling at the little bows you've made. "you look so pretty right now," you hum, leaning down a little and tracing a finger along his jaw. "kinda wanna take a picture."

"do it."

you shake your head, not wanting to bring out your phone and possibly ruin the moment. you smile at the firmness in his voice, pressing a quick peck to his lips. "next time."

lando's chest vibrates with his chuckle. "oh, you think there will be a next time?"

"i know there will, because i'm in charge here."

the retort he was planning gets caught in his throat as your lips meet the side of his neck. he sighs at the feeling of your kisses traveling down to his chest, tongue coming out to lick the skin occasionally. he instinctively tries to grab your hips with his hands, momentarily forgetting about his restraints and letting out an annoyed groan when he's held back. you giggle against him when you hear the ropes snap against the headboard.

"already?" you ask, hands dragging up and down his beautifully tanned skin as your kisses trail even further, meeting the skin of his hipbones, giving both sides equal attention.

you can see how he clenches his fists from the corner of your eyes, knuckles already turning a little white. "i hate this. i really hate this," he mumbles.

"but you like me, don't you?" you counter, sitting back on your heels between his legs and letting your hands find the waistband of his boxers. "let me have my fun."

"great to know one of us is having fun, i guess." you take your time pulling down his underwear, enjoying every second of watching his impatience. when he's finally fully naked, his cock springs up to his stomach, a little precum leaking from him already.

"lando," you start, your thumb rubbing around the tip before spreading the precum along him. "don't you trust me?" you lower yourself down to press a kiss to his tip. "do you really think i won't make sure you enjoy this, too?"

his answer comes in the form of a shaky exhale, his eyes fluttering shut when he feels your tongue lick up a stripe along the side of his dick.

"i thought so."

your lips wrap around him, pushing yourself down his length before moving back up again. you're excruciatingly slow, wet lips sliding along his skin and only taking a little of him as your tongue swirls around him just once.

number two: lando hates being teased.

it's something he avoids at all costs, which you learned early in your relationship. he'll give you a stern look and push your hand away when you reach for his thigh during a company dinner; he'll grab your hips to hold you still when you intentionally grind onto him as you sit in his lap; and when you text him revealing pictures when he's away doing something important, he'll turn off his phone rather than let it get to him. it all comes back to his hatred of not being in control – he wants to be the one to tease you, not the other way around. so when you get a chance to tease him and he can't do anything about it, you take it.

speeding up your actions is not something you even consider, and now that lando's hands aren't in your hair to usher you, you take your time. you do, however, push him further into you, letting him hit the back of your throat before pulling entirely off him. when you sink down on him again, he buckles his hips: his way of trying to retake control. your hands find his sides, holding him down as you slide off him, leaning back to look at him as a grin spreads across your lips. "impatient, are we?"

his eyes are scrunched up, head thrown back to show off his thick neck. his muscular chest is heaving for air, already, and his hands are still hanging sloppily from the ropes. you love to see him like this. so weak, so helpless. it's not often that you get to take in this sight, so you savor every second of it.

when he feels the bed rock, lando's eyes shoot open. he watches you climb up from the bed, standing right next to it as you slowly let the sleeves of your dress fall down your shoulders. he does not enjoy the moment as much as he wishes he would, because all he can think of is how much he wishes he was the one sliding the dress down your body; how much he wishes he was the one unclasping your bra; how much he wishes it was his hands dragging your soaked panties to the floor.

you move to straddle his lap, your hips hovering over his as you let his tip nudge your entrance. when you finally descend on him, he bottoms you out so perfectly. you press your hands to his chest, leaning your weight on him as you feel yourself getting stretched out.

if lando thought you were done with the teasing, he was very wrong. you rise from him painfully slowly, before going down just as slowly. when your hips meet his again, you stop for yet another moment, rolling down on him.

number three: lando hates not being able to control the pace.

he's used to driving cars at 300 km/h, for god's sake, so this slow motion-pace you're going at is not ideal for him. he doesn't always need to thrust in and out of you like you only have a minute left to live but regulating the pace is, according to him, one of the perks of being the boyfriend. but not today.

you find a rhythm, bouncing on him like you are in no hurry whatsoever. your lover's moans are muffled and he's seemingly doing his best to not let anything slip out. he doesn't want you to know how much he likes this, despite not being in control.

"don't hold back, baby," you say, thumbs stroking his skin encouragingly. "you're allowed to feel good even when i'm in charge."

and when he finally lets go, the sounds he makes are like music to your ears. his hearty groans send a shiver down your spine and you can't help but pick up the pace a little, needing to hear more. you want to pull every sound and twitch out of him, and if that means going faster, it's a change you're willing to make.

you feel the shudder passing through his body when you clench around him. you know he's close when his heels dig into the mattress and he thrusts into you, trying to make up for lost time. you're almost there, too, and the way you feel all of him pump into you turns your brain into mush.

your nails dig into his chest when you reach your climax, likely leaving indents in his skin. you continue riding him, helping him chase his high, your pulsating insides helping draw it out instantly. when you feel the spurts shooting into you, you collapse against him. he's twitching inside of you, his chest jumping with his breaths, and your fingers reach to brush along the side of his neck to help him come down from his high.

"okay, i'll admit," he starts, taking deep breaths between every word. "that was so fucking hot."

a giggle escapes past your lips, and you prop your chin up on his chest to look up at his face. "i knew it would be." you brush back his curls, freeing his glossy forehead. "thank you for trusting me."

his face is adorned by a soft smile, and it replicates on yours. "are you okay?" he asks, always so caring, and he lets out a breath when you nod.

number four, the most important one: lando hates being unable to hold you.

he hates not being in control of your well-being; he hates not being able to ensure you're okay. he hates not cupping your face in his palms, stroking your cheeks, pulling his fingers through your locks. so, it would be an understatement to say that he was ecstatic when you pulled yourself off him, sat down on his side and started working on undoing the ropes.

his skin shows off a burning red color, and it hasn't occurred to you yet how much he actually must've been itching to touch you. usually, when he ties you up, your skin gets a bit irritated too, sure. but it's not often this bad. "let me get you a lotion for your wrists," you say.

you're practically off the bed already when lando grabs your hand, dragging you onto him again. "later." he pulls your back to his chest and nuzzles his face into your hair, pressing a peck to your scalp. "just wanna hold you right now."

you shake your head at his antics, but take both of his hands into yours. you hold them up to your lips, giving him a few kisses around both of his wrists. "maybe that's better?"

"perfect." his voice is low, arms snaking around your waist to tug you closer. "i think they're completely fine now."

"let me at least get you something in the morning?"

"mmm. shush and sleep now."

and there it was, an order – back in control already. just like he should be.

[here2bbtstrash]

crybaby (explicit)

genre: all pwp all smut babeyyyyyy

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: your boyfriend has always mixed his pleasure with pain.

word count: 4.3k

contains: explicit sexual content!!!!!! like that's the whole fic lmao 😵‍💫 established relationship, marathon sex, wrist restraints/bondage, cocky yet eager sub!jungkook 🥵, soft dom!reader but she can be a lil tough, clothed tit play, objectification, she calls him bunny which i think is cute 🥺, spitting, dick riding, unprotected sex, fingers in mouth, humping/grinding, jk has a nipple piercing 🙈, overstimulation/multiple orgasms - for both of them hehe, vibrator use, jungkook (and reader!) pushing himself to his limits bc..... he's jungkook, he cries 🥲, reader finds it hot 👀, a lottttt of sweat & cum lol, cum licking/eating, blowjob, maybe some subspace if you squint, winners never quit 💪, talk of coming dry at the end, jk is kind of a little shit lmaooooo - alright i think that's it 😩

A/N: not me barely managing to get this up before the ticket sales start 😅 happy hunger games to y'all who have codes!!! this fic is a birthday gift to my love, my angel, my cunning linguist @moni-logues 💜 HAPPY (yesterday) BIRTHDAY bb, can't wait to marry you on our first date, it is the joy of my life to build castles in the air with you~

and god bless jk for his lives the past few weeks bc they breathed so much life into this regular degular "sub!jk" fic idea. i'm v obsessed with his personality and the way he always pushes himself "just a little more", whether it's in staying up til 5 am singing karaoke on his couch or giving his absolute all in a workout. just so in love with our bunny tbh, so i hope you enjoy this spicy version of him too!! 🥰

read on AO3!

~*~

You know your boyfriend has always mixed his pleasure with pain.

He stays up late even when he’s exhausted, likes to do his workouts to failure, could spend hours in a tattoo session with the needle pressed to his skin and his bones humming from the buzz. Always holding out for as long as he can, always wanting just a little bit more before he calls it quits, even when it’s hard, even when it hurts. Because he wants to test his limits.

And today, you want to test them, too.

That’s why you text him to meet you in the bedroom, let him find you in nothing but one of his oversized Carhartt shirts, kneeling up on the bed as you affix a pair of purple silk restraints to the headboard.

There’s the soft creak of the mattress from Jungkook’s added weight, and you feel the heat of him as he crowds you from behind, hands dragging up the curve of your hips and taking the hem of your borrowed shirt with it.

“This was the emergency, huh?” The low murmur of his voice is chased by the cool touch of his lip ring as he drags his mouth up the nape of your neck. A blossom of arousal starts to unfurl in your core. “Wanted to use these?”

“Yeah,” you answer, feigning nonchalance as you give the silk a firm tug to test that it holds. Satisfied, you let yourself sink back into Jungkook’s touch, dropping your head against his shoulder and smiling when he leans down to brush his lips over yours. He hums a soft little sound into your mouth.

You cup your hand to the nape of his neck when you pull away to finish the thought. “Thought we could try them on you.”

The words are seemingly all your boyfriend needs to hear; he drops down onto the mattress so hard that he bounces a little. You can’t help but laugh at the way he scrambles to strip out of his sweatshirt, like he’s being timed, then hurriedly centers himself on the pillows, eyes glinting dark with desire.

When you first started talking to Jungkook, everything about him made you expect that he would be the one to call the shots. The good looks, the tattoos and piercings, the muscles— and definitely the motorcycle. But once you’d sat across from him at dinner on your first official date, only to watch him blush and fumble his way through a conversation, you started to suspect that maybe he preferred to follow rather than lead.

That thought was certainly confirmed the next time you saw him out in public: it’d been a full two weeks since your first date, with nothing but radio silence between you since. You were admittedly maybe a little too drunk when you spotted him out with his friends at the same bar you’d been dragged to by yours— drunk enough to have no problem walking right up to him to read him for filth, in front of all of his friends, for ghosting you.

Except he’d just blinked those big brown eyes up at you, mouth dropped open in disbelief, and quietly admitted that he’d been waiting all this time for you to text him.

One of his friends had clapped him on the back, laughing loudly as he corroborated Jungkook’s confession. “He’s been having midnight karaoke pity parties because he never heard from you. Please take this boy out again before his neighbors have him evicted!”

That night told you everything you needed to know about how the dynamics in your relationship would work out. That if you wanted something, there was a very good chance Jungkook wanted it, too.

Which is why it doesn’t surprise you that your boyfriend is already sprawled out half-naked on the bed beneath you, arms folded behind his head in a way that makes his biceps bulge, dangerously attractive.

His mouth pulls into a cocky, flirtatious grin. “Ah, so you wanna use me?”

“I do,” you murmur, straddling your thighs over his torso and leaning up to take the smooth purple silk between your fingers. He offers you one hand before you even have to ask for it, and takes advantage of the other’s last few minutes of freedom to paw at you over your shirt. His tattooed fingers seek out your breast and squeeze, his thumb flicking lazy strokes over your nipple.

You tug the knot of the restraint to tighten it, then look back just as Jungkook closes his lips around the clothed bud of your breast. The rough drag of cotton against your sensitive skin makes you hot all over, your nipple stiffening easily at the rub of his insistent tongue.

“How’s that? Too tight?”

He smirks with your tit still in his mouth, soaking a wet spot into your shirt, teeth scraping gently. “Could be tighter.”

“You are such a show-off,” you huff, more endeared than aggravated as you redo the knot, this time as tight as you can manage. Jungkook pulls against it teasingly, but it does actually seem to hold him in place, and you can feel a dull thud between your legs at the flex of his muscles on full display, the image of him already half-helpless beneath you.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook,” he says, as if in explanation, giving your breast a final playful jiggle before you tug his other hand off to tie it up, too.

“Well, Jeon Jungkook,” you retort with a smirk and a grunt of effort as you lean over him to tug the knot tight. You glance down to find him already using the leverage of his restraints to pull himself up so that he can continue to nuzzle his face into your shirt between your tits, abdominals shaking a little from the effort, undeterred despite the loss of both of his hands.

You take his jaw in your grip and scoot yourself further down his body, dipping in to plant a kiss on his soft lips.

“Are you gonna be a good little toy for me?”

“Uh-huh,” he grunts, and you enjoy the tease of hovering just past where he can reach, watching him strain up toward your mouth to seek another kiss and fall ever so short.

You can feel arousal already dripping from your folds as you slide further down the bed, slipping off from on top of Jungkook to easily rid him of his joggers and briefs. His dick smacks against his stomach, thick and hard; wet, too, at the pretty brown tip. You toss his clothes over the edge of the bed, then strip your own shirt to follow before lowering yourself between his spread legs.

The muscles in Jungkook’s thighs tighten with visible anticipation as you hover above his cock, letting the heat of your breath fan out over him, not unlike the warm afternoon air leaking in through the cracked bedroom window, the first taste of spring. You can hear the wet clicks of Jungkook’s tongue in his mouth.

“Easy, bunny,” you murmur, and then you work up a mouthful of saliva and spit it right onto the head of his dick.

He hisses in a breath at the splatter of it, then gasps a soft little sound when you take him in your hand to slip your fist down the length of him. That’s Jungkook all over; always so eager, always so sensitive.

“What do you think?” you muse, your mouth ticking up as you feel Jungkook’s hips roll into your grasp. “Think it’s ready for me, baby?”

“‘Sready,” he grunts, teeth clenched. “Use it, jagi.”

You waste no time, crawling back up Jungkook’s body to settle your hips over his, flattening your palms against his chest. He’s still squirming, thighs flexing against the bed as he rocks up in a desperate attempt to find the wet heat of your cunt, and you giggle as you work yourself backwards until the head of his dick catches on your entrance.

It’s a bit of a stretch, but you’re wet enough to take it. You bite down on a smug smile as you manage to seat yourself on him hands-free.

“Fuck, love when you do that.” Jungkook’s voice is a low growl, and you slide a hand up the firm definition in his chest and slowly start to rock yourself along his length. His cock fills you up like he was made for it; you can feel every detail of him drag against your ridges, trailing sparks of pleasure as you tilt your hips to drive him right into your sweet spot.

Jungkook’s head kicks back against the pillow as a groan rips through him. There’s a gentle crease in his brow, furrowed in the way that tells you it’s so good: the tight heat of your pussy, the slick stretch of it when you work it on him. You ride him rough, make him take it like a good boy.

Another noise stutters out of Jungkook, chased this time by a huff of breath that it takes you a second to realize is a laugh, the tone caught halfway between shy and horny. You watch the way he squirms, restless against his restraints, like he can’t help himself.

He answers before you can ask. “The way your tits— fuckin’ bounce— fuck, I wanna touch you.”

The feeling sinks in as you watch him writhe beneath you, as you shove your hips back harder to pull more desperate sounds out of him. It’s fun, not letting him have what he wants, makes you drip that much more down the length of him.

“You can’t.”

“I know,” he grunts, wrists tugging uselessly. “It’s hot— that I can’t.”

“It is,” you concede, feigning composure despite the hitch in your breath, the way you’re already close to the edge and pushed that much closer by having Jungkook like this. Tied up, all yours, free to do with as you please.

And still fighting against his fucking restraints.

“Think I could rip these?”

It’s like your body acts faster than your pleasure-driven mind can keep up with: all at once, you’re tracing the pouted curve of Jungkook’s bottom lip, then slipping two fingers past it into the heat of his mouth.

“Shh, bunny,” you murmur. He blinks up at you, glassy-eyed as you pet over his tongue, all lush and wet on your fingertips. “Toys don’t talk.”

You press down more firmly as if for emphasis, enjoying how his soft parts give so easily to your touch, and then Jungkook outright moans around your fingers in his mouth.

The needy little sound makes your pussy pulse hot between your thighs.

“Fuck,” you hiss as you take him to the hilt, changing the stroke of your hips to grind against your toy, used solely to get yourself off now. Humping, really, rubbing your clit over the smooth skin of his abdomen where he’s blooming feverglow, flushed with need. Jungkook’s eyes flicker back in his head at the way your pussy’s taking him, squeezed tight like a vice and gushing wet. Working raw sounds out of him, his jaw gone slack; you can feel the blunt edge of his teeth and his heavy, shaky breath on the palm of your hand.

Your thighs shift to spread wider and the next drag of your clit is at just the right angle that pleasure surges up in you, undeniable, overwhelming. It’s all you can do now to chase your release, to keep rocking yourself into it, Jungkook’s thick cock plugged up inside of you and drool slicking out of his mouth to drip down your wrist.

“Gonna make myself come on my pretty little toy,” you manage to gasp.

Jungkook’s eyes find yours, burning intensity, the way he gets, and then he closes his lips tight around your fingers in his mouth and sucks, as if he’s begging to be used, and it sends you over the edge all at once. Your head tips back as your orgasm kicks through you, white noise pleasure, enough to get lost in.

Hips still rolling, you grind yourself through it, the waves of your climax swelling and receding again, until you finally drop forward against Jungkook’s chest, breathless and buzzing all over.

You let your fingers slip out of his mouth, exhale a laugh as they skip over the defined ridges of his stomach when you wipe your hand dry, taking full advantage of the fact that he’s powerless to stop you.

“Shit, that was hot.”

Jungkook’s voice is hoarse with desire as you shift to find the curve of his neck under your mouth, trailing kisses until your lips brush over the pretty lines of ink just behind his ear. He’s still thick and stiff inside you, with a steady pulse-throb that tells you how badly he needs to come, how worked up he is from being used as your personal hump-toy.

“Yeah,” you echo, paired with a tentative rock of your hips that makes your cunt flutter, overstimulated, tugs a little whine out of Jungkook, too. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth as you breathe against his flushed skin.

“Think I— wanna keep using my toy. Kinda feel like being greedy.”

Jungkook’s cock twitches, shameless, at your admission, again when you flick a thumb over the silver jewelry studded through his nipple. There’s a part of you that wants to keep him like this, his leaking-hard dick filling you up while you purr nasty shit in his ear, just to see if he can come from it.

“Might ride it until I break it.” You scrape your teeth up his neck and he moans. “Gonna take all I can give you, bunny?”

His throat jumps visibly as he swallows, fights to gasp a desperate “uh-huh”. Answers with his body, too, arching up to press himself deeper into you, rubbing the slick, hot tip of his cock into your front wall in just the right way to melt pleasure down your spine. You reward his eager submission with a soft kiss, then lick along the seam of his lips, enjoying the sweet little noises that pour into your mouth when you open him up.

Still intertwined, his tongue stroking over yours, your hand goes fumbling for the nightstand, comes away with the slender cylinder of your vibrator, and switches it on before slipping it down to press between your bodies.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook groans as you nestle the shuddering bullet between your folds and find the bud of your clit. You know he can feel it too from the way his hips jerk beneath you, the steady buzz engulfing his cock as you squeeze your pussy around him, all lush sensitivity from your first orgasm. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“You can.” The words are hardly more than a warm exhale from your mouth to his, your lips brushing. “But I’m not gonna stop.”

You don’t give him time to respond or even heave in another gasp of air before your thumb finds the button at the base of your vibrator, clicks it once, then again.

“F— ahh!”

Jungkook’s body jolts like a live wire as he falls apart beneath you. You sit up to take in the whole of him, your free palm slipping to the jut of his hip, fingertips splayed out and pressed heavy to anchor.

Pinned down and helpless, he trembles through the hot rush of his release, dick buried deep and pulsing as it all comes spilling out of him.

“That’s it, baby,” you coo. Your nails scratch lovingly against his skin to coax him out of it— taking such good care of your toy. His breath is punching out of his chest in these ragged, overwhelmed gasps, sweat glittering at his temples while he whimpers through the comedown. So fucking beautiful like this.

The hum of the vibrator rolls through you, strong enough with the change in angle that your eyes drop shut to focus on the feeling.

Jungkook whines when you circle your hips with him still tucked up inside of you— it’s a wrecked little noise, high and sweet, underscored by the thick squelch of his cum starting to leak back down his shaft. Your thighs tense just right from the filthy sound of it, and then it’s all throbbing velvet glow in your core as you clench up and come on his cock again.

“Fuuuuuck, bunny,” you groan up to the ceiling, your head tipped back as it washes over you. “God, yeah.”

You flick the vibrator off when it gets to be too much, let it go rolling down the mattress— the bedroom feels bigger for the silence. Sweat slicks at the back of your knees, warm spring breeze still licking through the window to flutter the sheer-gauze curtains.

You’re fluttering too, all over: the kick of your heartbeat, the breath stuttering out of your lungs. The throb of your cunt, split open and drooling out juice, messy-wet fresh fruit.

The sound of the bedsheets shifting has your lashes flickering open again, and there’s Jungkook. Dark hair fanned out on the pillow, wrists bound, and that look in his eyes. Like he can take a little more. Like he’s waiting for your cue. Like there’s this whole-heart want brimming up inside of him, making his blood run hot.

He’s still hard between your legs.

“Go on then,” you tell him. “Give me another one.”

With a concentrated growl, Jungkook flattens his feet to the bed, grips tighter to his restraints for leverage, and starts to pound up into you. You can feel an overstimulated shudder in the stroke of his hips, how his cockhead twitches, sensitive, as it rubs over your g-spot. But he doesn’t stop; doesn’t even lose his rhythm.

He fucks you like a machine, and it’s all you can do to brace your palms against his chest and tip forward, rocking yourself down to meet him thrust for thrust.

The harsh slap of body on body is almost enough to drown out the rest: your open-mouthed panting, Jungkook’s groan when your nails dig crescent moon slivers into his tan skin, the gravel edge to your words, “Yeah, like that, fuck me just like that.”

It takes you a second to notice, the sound buried beneath it all, but then it floats through— Jungkook’s sucking his breath in through his teeth now, his jaw tight. You can see the jump of a muscle working there.

“Does it hurt, baby?” you gasp, more air than voice.

Jungkook’s head drops back against the pillow, brow pinched from the focus of keeping his pace steady. He’s breathless, too, when he answers: “Feels good.”

“Feels good because it hurts, huh? Is that how you like it?”

A strangled noise tears out of his throat, and he shoves up even harder, like he wants to fuck you into the shape of him. You splay one hand over the column of his throat and watch his pretty brown eyes blink-blink back at you, and then you have to bury your moans in the crook of his neck as you come hard.

The world around you returns a little at a time. First, the tremble of your tired thighs, the dull ache that’s already started to bloom at the bend of your knees. Then, Jungkook’s body curved up against yours, hips still slow-rolling as you exhale in hot, jagged bursts against his skin. There’s the distinct drip of his cum sliding out of you, and all the sticky-wet places where it’s slicked up the swell of your ass.

“Shit,” you laugh when you manage to find the breath for it. “That was crazy.”

Jungkook shifts a little, but doesn’t respond, and then he makes this wet, soft gasp. You realize he’s shaking beneath you.

You sit up so fast the room spins; your tether is Jungkook’s face, cupped lovingly now between your palms.

“Oh, baby.”

A fat teardrop traces a path down his cheek. Another threatens the dark border of his lashes. He can’t wipe them away with his wrists tied up, but you can see him trying to hold back even as a sob shudders through him, his chest heaving.

“You okay, my love?” you murmur, swiping a thumb across his face. He sniffles, nods, hiccups a little. The tip of his nose is flushed pink. “Shoulda told me to stop, if it was too much.”

“It feels good,” he insists, and his voice cracks around the words. “It’s just a lot. But ‘m not— don’t wanna stop.”

“No? You sure?”

Jungkook sucks his lip ring into his mouth as he nods again, sniffs again. That sends a bolt of something through you.

“You’ve been so good to me,” you praise, and you tip your ass back until his softening cock slips out, smeared glossy-white with your shared release. Jungkook’s still wound-up, pulled so tight inside himself that he flinches when you slip a hand down to ease his legs apart, sliding lower on the bed to slot yourself between them.

“Can I take care of you, bun?” The question’s posed sweetly, chased with a flutter of your lashes and kisses dropped down on the flat plane of his abdomen. “I’ll be gentle.”

He whimpers— answers in the way his hips lift up to meet your mouth.

Your hands press flat to Jungkook’s broad thighs, and you can feel the overwhelmed static-shiver beneath your palms, little tremors that jolt through his muscles. Head dipped low, you drag your tongue up his length and it punches a thick sob out of him, hips stirring like he’s trying to crawl up the bed. But you just keep going, pin him down and make him take it, working broad flat stripes over the whole of his shaft, root to tip. Tasting him, salt and slick and your own heady flavor; you lick him clean.

Jungkook comes quietly this time, feet flexing restless on the bed as you tongue it all out of him. You swipe two fingers through the mess on his stomach and suck that up, too.

Humming around the digits in your mouth, you surface from between Jungkook’s legs to take him in: eyes closed, face wet with tears. You can see the rise and fall of his chest as he gasps for air, shaky, coming down from it.

“Alright baby,” you soothe, shifting up to straddle his chest, knees sinking into the sheets. “All done now, just breathe. Gonna untie you.”

Reaching up, you gently tug open the knot on one restraint, then the other, easing Jungkook’s limp arms to the mattress. Your thumbs find his wrists to massage soft love-circles in case he’s gone numb there, gently coaxing him back to earth.

“Did so good for me, bunny.”

There’s a whimper, and then Jungkook’s surging up to kiss you, forceful enough that you give a little hum of surprise against his lips.

His hands are all over you, all at once, tugging at your legs to drag them forward until you’re flat on your back on the mattress. Your sore thighs shake when he shoves them up and apart, and then a sharp buzz rolls right over the bud of your clit and you keen. Fuck, when did he even grab the vibrator?

“Wanna make you come again,” he pants, and you smile even as your spine arches off the bed. Of course. You should’ve known.

It’s Jungkook all over, you think, hyper-focused on your pleasure even when he’s out of commission, and then you feel the head of his cock push inside and you both gasp. Your cunt aches, so swollen that it’s like he’s stretching you out all over again when you take him to the hilt.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. Jungkook’s hips snap, punctuated by a strangled grunt of effort, but he keeps going, making soft little sweet-pain whines with every thrust, brow scrunched as he brute-forces his way well past overstimulation.

He’s still crying, you realize.

Tears roll down his face and drip onto your collarbone, and everything’s somehow hotter for it. His length is slick, painted in the stored-up remnants of his cum, and you can hear the squish of your folds at the base of his cock each time he fucks it all back into you, so dirty it makes your head spin.

“J-just like that, baby,” you groan, overwhelmed; you can barely get the words out. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Jungkook buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you can feel him shaking, dripping, still rabbiting his hips into you, and then the hum of pleasure reverberating through your body explodes. Your clit throbs with an orgasm that feels endless, dizzying, divine. Jungkook outright sobs as your walls pulse pulse pulse around him, begging for every last drop.

When it’s all too much, you swat at his hand, mumbling shapes that aren’t words until the vibrator’s switched off and tossed away. He pulls out with a thick wet sound and the hiss of his breath between his teeth.

Together, you come down slow. Exhaling staccato, limbs tangled, bodies flushed and sweat-sticking.

Jungkook moves first: flops onto the mattress next to you, entirely exhausted, the way you’ve seen him get after a particularly rough workout. Scrubs at his face with one hand, this shy laugh fluttering out of him. “Can’t believe I cried. Ah, so embarrassing.”

You turn onto your side, tugging his hand away so you can press a kiss to his open palm. “Don’t ask me why but… in the moment? Very hot, actually.” A flush colors his cheeks and you giggle. “My perfect little crybaby.”

He flashes you his signature cocky grin, eyes squeezing shut as it morphs into something nearer to a wince. “Fuck, I’m so sweaty.” A breathless gasp, again. “And my dick hurts. I think I came dry that last time.”

“Poor baby,” you coo, not quite sincere. “You really could’ve stopped at… what, three?”

Eyes closed and still smirking, he shakes his head, damp hair falling in his face. “No I couldn’t have— I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

“You certainly are.”

[firstkanaphans]

Could you imagine writing 11 for SandRay? 🥺👉👈

Rating/Warnings: Explicit; Dom/Sub undertones Word Count: 2800ish (someone save me from myself bc the whole point of this exercise was to not write full-length fics 🙈)

Read on AO3

{tying} them down as punishment

When Sand got home to the apartment he shared with Ray, it was dark. That should have been his first clue that something was wrong but naively, he assumed his boyfriend was capable of being normal. He realized he was wrong when the lights suddenly turned on, revealing Ray sitting on their living room sofa with his arms crossed.

“Where have you been?” Ray asked, standing. He was dressed in nothing but a silk bathrobe, his chest bare underneath. 

Sand rolled his eyes and tossed his empty bag down on a chair. “You know where I’ve been,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket and discarding that as well. 

“I do,” Ray said. “But we agreed you wouldn’t do that anymore, so I’m having a hard time seeing why—”

“We did not agree.” Sand huffed. “You made that up in your head.”

Ray didn’t like that Sand was still selling his illegally brewed plum wine. When they’d started talking about moving in together, one of Ray’s conditions had been that Sand get rid of the wine, which Sand had agreed to. It was one of Ray’s more reasonable conditions and he had no intention of bringing alcohol into a space they shared anyway, but he slowly came to realize it wasn’t the alcohol itself that Ray had a problem with. It was the illegality of it. And it wasn’t himself he was worried about. It was Sand.

It might have been sweet if it wasn’t so goddamn annoying.

“No, we talked about this,” Ray argued with the air of someone who didn’t understand that just because they told you to do something, didn’t mean you actually had to do it. “What happens to me if you get arrested, hm? Did you think about that? We live together now. You can't just abandon me. If you need money—”

He was starting to get worked up the way he always did when he got it into his head that Sand might be leaving the way everyone left, so Sand stepped forward and took Ray’s face into his hands, forcing him to calm down. Ray swatted him away.

“I didn’t want to just dump it, okay?" Sand said. "But I sold the last bottle tonight. I’m done. I’m not making anymore.” It was a win for Ray, but he seemed unwilling to admit that. Instead, he just stood there pouting, his arms still crossed over his chest.

Sand knew Ray was far too stubborn to admit he was wrong, but he hadn’t realized just how stubborn until Ray launched himself across the space between them and kissed him on the lips to avoid having to admit anything at all. Sand could have pressed him if he wanted to, but he knew that kiss was likely the only apology he was going to get and so he decided to enjoy it.

He grabbed Ray by the ties of his robe to pull him closer and then slowly untied it so that he could slip his hands inside to wrap around Ray’s waist. His skin was warm and he shivered at Sand’s touch, but he didn’t break the kiss. In fact, he kissed him harder, backing him towards their bedroom. Towards their bed. He let his robe fall to the floor, leaving him in only his underwear, and then pulled Sand’s T-shirt over his head. By the time he pushed Sand down onto the mattress, they were both half-naked.

“You’re impatient tonight,” Sand said, suddenly eager himself. He liked when Ray got needy like this. He liked being the only thing that could calm him.

Ray didn’t bother responding. He was too far gone for words. Instead, he kissed Sand again, grabbing both of his wrists in his hands and lifting them above his head as if he wanted to pin them there.

That’s when Sand heard an ominous click. 

He immediately broke the kiss and looked up to find that he had been handcuffed to the bed. The cuffs were made out of a butter-soft leather, but when he pulled against them, they didn’t give. The chain was wound around one of the iron bars of their bed frame and made a rattling noise as he pulled. Sand whipped around to glare at Ray.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

Ray just shrugged innocently, but his face did not look innocent at all. He looked inordinately pleased with himself as if he hadn’t actually expected that to work. “Punishing you,” he said simply. “You’ve been a very bad boy.”

“Oh, have I?” Sand tugged on the restraints again, but found no purchase. He turned back to Ray, intrigued. It was not like Ray to take control like this—not unless he was angry or frustrated or wanted a drink, but would settle for Sand instead. He didn’t seem to be any of those things at the moment. Instead, he seemed giddy like a child who’s just discovered a new toy. “And what exactly does this punishment entail?”

“Whatever I want it to.”

If Ray took Sand’s pants off now, he would see that his erection hadn’t flagged in the slightest. That it had, in fact, grown. “So my punishment is that you have to do all the work for once?” Sand teased. “However will I live?”

Ray smirked. “Oh, that’s cute. You think this is going to be easy for you?”

Sand frowned, sensing that maybe he was missing something, but before he could try to figure out what exactly it was, Ray lunged forward and kissed him. Immediately, Sand tried to reach for him, wanting to tangle his fingers in his hair and touch, but the cuffs held him back. That’s when he realized there might be some truth to Ray’s words. 

He growled in frustration, breaking the kiss to tilt his head up to try to find some means of escape, but Ray simply tilted his chin back down and kissed him again as if there had been no interruption. This time, Sand kissed him back, determined to prove that he could still do so adequately even without the ability to touch, but much too soon, Ray pulled away, a smirk still on his lips. 

“Having fun?” he asked. Then he reached for the buckle on Sand’s jeans. Sand immediately sensed that he was in danger. He had never been completely at Ray’s mercy before and he found the possibility simultaneously terrifying and thrilling. Sand tugged on the handcuffs again, but still, there was no give. 

“If you’re a good boy,” Ray said, nosing along the seam of Sand’s jeans, “this will go much better for you.”

“And what exactly does being a ‘good boy’ entail?” Sand asked through gritted teeth as Ray hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of his pants and pulled both them and his underwear off in a single tug. Once freed from its confines, his dick sprang up hard against his stomach, precome already leaking from the tip. 

Ray mouthed at his shaft, licking it clean, and Sand fought against his restraints once more. It was official: he would not survive this. 

Once Ray was done, he pulled off and the sudden influx of cool air against Sand’s wet cock sent a chill throughout his body. Ray didn’t seem to care about his discomfort. He glared down at Sand. “Stop pulling against the cuffs,” he said. “It’s loud and you’re going to hurt yourself. Just stay still and I’ll reward you.”

“I don’t believe you,” Sand replied. Ray wasn’t the type to give rewards freely. 

Ray threw his nose into the air as if Sand had offended him. “Well, you don’t have much of a choice now, do you?” he asked. Then he set to work kissing every bare inch of Sand’s body. 

Sand had never just lain still and let himself be loved before. Ray was impatient in bed and Sand liked that he was, so if anyone got lavished in kisses, it was Ray. Ray was the one who liked the attention and Sand preferred to give it to him rather than take it for himself.

But today, Ray took his time. And for the first time, Sand let him. 

It took every ounce of self-control Sand had to force himself to relax, but he did good. He didn’t pull on the cuffs. The room fell quiet except for the sound of Sand’s hitched breathing and the soft, wet kisses of Ray’s lips.

“Good boy,” Ray praised, looking up at Sand from beneath hooded lashes as he began sucking on the thin skin of his groin. “Maybe now it’s time for your reward.”

Sand’s first instinct was to say no thank you. He was sweating and trembling, his body already overstimulated, but it would have been like saying no to a sip of water after marching through the desert. He was parched and Ray was offering him relief. So he didn’t say no. Instead, he just lay there and watched as Ray, maintaining eye contact the whole time, slowly took his cock into his mouth.

Sand couldn’t help it: he jerked on the cuffs again, causing them to rattle against the metal bed frame, and Ray immediately pulled off of him with a disappointed click of his tongue. “You’re going to have to try harder than that,” he said smugly.

“Ray, please,” Sand begged. 

Ray seemed to like the begging. “Please what?”

Sand felt his cheeks heat and although the petulant side of him wanted to refuse Ray the satisfaction, the part that was still hard, the part that now knew exactly how good it felt to have Ray’s lips wrapped around him, was willing to do everything.

“Please keep going,” he said. “I’ll be good.”

“You better be,” Ray threatened, but he was a man of his word. He took Sand back into his mouth and swallowed him all the way down.

They had been together almost six months now, but Sand could count on one hand the number of times Ray had given him a blow job. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them. It wasn’t even that Ray didn’t like giving them. It was simply that Sand preferred to give and Ray preferred to take—that was the dynamic that worked for them—but there was no denying that even out of practice, Ray still knew what he was doing. 

It wasn’t long before Sand was thrusting up into his mouth, doing everything he could to keep his hands still, to not rattle the cuffs and risk Ray stopping. He was so close, right there on the edge when—

Suddenly, Ray pulled off of him all at once, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and revealing a smirk underneath. At first, Sand thought he was just taking an ill-timed break and would resume his ministrations soon, but he didn’t. He just sat there and watched Sand squirm.

“Ray, c’mon!” Sand snapped, yanking on the cuffs for the first time in a while. “Why did you stop? I was being good.”

“Because,” Ray said matter-of-factly. “You’re being punished.”

Sand let out a cry of frustration. “I’m not sure the punishment matches the crime here.”

Ray didn’t answer him, but climbed back up his body to kiss his lips, to stroke his hair, to massage his wrists where they had started to ache. It was such a soft, loving contrast to the throbbing in Sand’s dick. Ray continued kissing him as he pulled off his own underwear, leaving them both naked, and when he sat back on Sand’s abdomen, Sand saw just how aroused he was. Despite the fact that Sand was the one getting his dick sucked, Ray looked just as hard. Sand’s dick twitched against Ray’s back at the sight and Ray pressed his ass against it in acknowledgement. 

“I’m going to ride you now,” he said, lifting up and situating Sand at his entrance. The tip went in easily and Sand could tell that Ray had already prepped himself for this. “You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to.”

“If you think I have any control over that—”

He broke off as his dick slipped easily inside Ray’s familiar body and for the first time all night, it seemed like Ray was just as overcome as he was. He didn’t even notice Sand slip up and pull against the cuffs. He just threw his head back and sighed as if this was the feeling he had been searching for all along.

“Ray, I’m serious,” Sand said in warning as Ray began to move, slowly lifting himself off of Sand’s dick and then pushing back down again. Sand bent his knees just slightly so that he could put the soles of his feet on the bed to give himself enough leverage to thrust and he did, taking Ray deeper. “I’m too close already. I’m going to come.”

“No, you’re not,” Ray said and he sounded so sure, Sand almost believed him. “Just a little longer. Please.”

It was the please that did it. It was always the please that did it. Sand had been conditioned to that word coming out of Ray’s mouth. All he ever wanted to do was make him happy. So as Ray began to ride him harder and faster, his dick bouncing against his stomach on every thrust, Sand tried to think of anything that wasn’t how devastatingly beautiful his boyfriend was. He tried not to stare at the pink flush on his cheeks, at the tattoos painted on his skin, and the sight of his own dick disappearing deep into his body. He wasn’t doing well, but he was trying.

Ray, however, was taking no mercy on him. He was doing some of his best work and despite the threat of “punishment,” Sand didn’t actually think he was trying to be cruel. He just seemed desperate, clenching his body tight around Sand’s dick with each thrust, burying his face in Sand’s neck, whispering words of affirmation into his ear. “So good, baby. So good.”

And Sand was so hard, he thought it might drive him mad. “Ray, please. Can I come?” His muscles were twitching with the effort it took not to but still, Ray did not slow his efforts. In fact, he sped up. Sand groaned. 

“I’m close,” Ray said. Sand could tell that was the truth. His eyes were practically rolled back in his head and his dick was leaking precome, but Sand had reached the limits of what he could handle. He didn’t want to disappoint Ray, but he physically couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

“Ray, please—”

He didn’t even have to finish his sentence before Ray said, “Come for me.”

As if his words were some sort of spell, Sand did, coming deep inside Ray’s body as Ray did the same, stroking himself to completion and spilling his seed on Sand’s bare chest. That was what he had wanted all along: for them to come together.

Sand was still breathing hard when Ray climbed off of him. He grumbled as the cool air touched his skin. It was too soon. He wanted to cuddle. But before he could voice that desire out loud, Ray grabbed a small metal key off of the bedside table and reached up to undo the handcuffs. 

The cuffs were barely off of Sand’s wrists before Ray was massaging the ache from his muscles and wrapping him in a hug, all traces of anger or frustration gone. He curled into Sand’s body like he was the one who needed to be held.

“What was all that about?” Sand asked with a small laugh. His voice was hoarse and he found that he was exhausted. It was late and there was nothing he wanted more than to fall asleep in his lover’s arms.

“I don’t know,” Ray admitted, his voice muffled in Sand’s chest. “It’s just that you’re always spoiling me. I wanted to spoil you this time.”

Sand snorted. “I think you need to work on your definition of ‘spoil,’” he said, but he stroked a hand through Ray’s hair to soften the words. 

“If I hadn’t tied you up, you wouldn’t have let me,” Ray pointed out and Sand realized he was right. It had never occurred to him that his obsession with putting Ray’s pleasure first might not be what Ray wanted. That it might, in fact, be stealing pleasure from him. It was just that he loved him so much and that was the only way he knew how to show it.

“Thank you,” he said, kissing the top of Ray’s head. “Maybe next time we can try it without the handcuffs.”

Ray smiled into his chest. “Up to you,” he said. “But I’m keeping them. And I bought a ball gag, too! Thought you might like the opportunity to shut me up every once in a while.”

Sand snorted and pulled his boyfriend closer, but Ray was wrong. There was nothing in the world Sand loved more than the sound of his voice.

[aves-ery]

CEO or Mob boss Wanda and stripper R👀 maybe she's just getting some visit to a certain club and she only have her for R but R is kind avoiding her. R is kind of snappy and feisty for Wanda but Wanda loved her more. One night she saw R entertaining other guests so she brought the whole club and kicked everyone out so she could have R all for herself.

Idk maybe you'd like to consider, btw you works are great and wonderful and so are you! Thanks!!!

one, thank you! two, this is ctually so bad bc I'm tired and for some reason forgot how to write good smut? but heres just wanda crazy for you.

pairing; CEO!wanda x stripper!reader

warnings; smut 18+ ONLY, infatuated wanda, praise!!, strap-on, fingering

if anyone saw wanda at a strip club, it'd be a field day for press. but quite honestly, she didnt care when she laid her eyes on you. she saw the flashes of the cameras when she walked in, but when she saw you in that lingerie, she didn't care what the articles were gonna read the next day.

wanda sat snug in a booth, watching you from afar. her silk button up was unbuttoned down to her upper stomach, her boobs only covered by her tight fitting sports-bra.

"i want that one," she pointed you out to all of her boss friends, a beer bottle still in hand. you were all over someone else, a lap dance she presumed.

one of the guys whistled you over, waving a "come here" motion. wanda knew it wasnt the way to get your attention, but you followed through, stalking over to them. you smiled, waving.

"hey gentlemen," you said seductively, plopping your pretty ass onto Tony's lap. wanda rolled her eyes.

"actually, as pretty as you are baby, this one wanted ya," tony pointed to wanda, and wanda waved her fingers.

"you just caught my eye, pretty," she said. you recognized the CEO immediately. you had to fight an eyeroll because no way in hell you were letting some snob like wanda touch you. you turned to the gruffy man whose lap you are on.

"i came over to see you," you avoided. the men around the table laughed, making fun of wanda. wanda just told them to all "shut the fuck up."

she tried to get your attention all night, buying you drinks, complimenting you, trying to just make you say hi. all she'd get in response is an eye roll and a "leave me alone."

"yo, get away from the girl she told you to stop," a bouncer said, pushing wanda away from you.

"look man, im not trying to cause a problem. she's just a pretty lady," wanda laughed, trying to use her charm to make him let her through.

"sorry, the girls not comfortable with you," the bouncer said again. wanda groaned, pulling out her wallet.

"c'mon ill even pay to just talk to her, man," wanda pulled out a few hundred dollar bills, and you rolled your eyes at the interaction. "i wont touch her, fucking promise. just wanna get to know the gal," wanda pleaded.

the bouncer looked at you, pointing at the money. wanda was at least holding 500 dollars in her hand currently. it was a silent agreement, and wanda was allowed into the private room

she handed a bill to the bouncer, then a few to you, before sitting in one of the booths. "you're a feisty one," she joked. you rolled your eyes.

"you can't buy me," she snapped. wanda nodded.

"im not trying to, babe. you're just... very intriguing," wanda said.

-

you had complained all of the next week, even after you didnt see wanda. you just didnt want her around, and didn't want her paying her way to you.

wanda found that out quickly, but she couldn't help it. you deserved to be worshiped with everything she could buy.

she sent you flowers, chocolates, everything to work. she didn't even know what days you worked, and she still sent them. Every time, you snacked on the chocolate and left the flowers in the trash. you didn't complain about that though. if she was going to spend money on you, she was going to laugh about it.

wanda came again two weeks later. she smiled and waved at you, but you continued flirting with a client. your hands on the man more than usual, making sure to get a rise out of her. you avoided her, but from close by. she'd call you over, and you'd give a lap dance to a guy near her.

wanda was fucking tired of it. that week, she bought the whole strip club. when you found out, you quit.

"no." wanda said.

"what?! you're fucking crazy. you're stalking me!" you screamed. wanda raised her eyebrows, standing up

"im not stalking you!" she screamed back at you

you laughed, "right. you're just fucking craz-" wanda kissed you. hard. you pushed her away, looking at her like she was actually insane, because she was, and then you kissed her back harder.

wanda grabbed your hips, picking you up and setting you on her desk. "you were just too pretty to leave alone. I'd buy the whole earth to be with you," she told you.

you thought she was joking, but she really wasn't. wanda was infatuated with you. when you looked her in the eyes, you could tell. you kissed her hard, allowing the woman you barely knew to have all of you.

"you're so pretty," wanda said, removing your sweater and kissing your breasts. you blushed, nodding.

"thank you," you whispered, moaning softly.

"you'll never have to work again, okay? and I'll win you over, i promise. I'll take you out on dates, I'll buy you dinner," wanda got on her knees sliding your shorts down, looking at you in the eyes. "I'll do anything, for you."

you blushed again, nodding, "win me over," you moaned. wanda nodded, sliding your panties over and taking you in.

"such a good girl," she praised, licking you fully. you shook softly, tangling your hands into wanda's hair. her lips found your clit, sucking softly.

you let out another breathy moan, and another as two digits pushed into you. your hand flew everything off the desk, and you lied back. wanda could deal with it later, you decided.

she was quick to make you cum, cleaning your thighs and kissing them both. she got rid of her pants, revealing a large red strap on. you looked at wanda with shaky arms and legs, smiling at her.

she didn't bother to take her button up off, only her pants and boxers, before shuffling towards you. "can i make you mine?" wanda asked, kissing your palms. you smiled up at her.

"yes," you said again, kissing her deeply. wanda smiled, lining her strap up with your cunt, before softly making her way into you.

the strap was the biggest you've taken, so you were grateful for wanda's soft nature. she looked at you, searching for any sign of discomfort. when she didn't find any, she started to go faster.

your hands found her back, gripping her shoulders and scratching down her back, "faster, wanda," you pleaded.

wanda nodded quickly, making sure to pick up the pace, "anything for you, doll," wanda kissed her thumb. she grabbed your boobs, kissing them both before kissing your lips. "you're so pretty like this," wanda said, kissing you again.

"thank you," you moaned. wanda's hand found your clit, rubbing softly until you came around her strap.

when you finished, she pulled out and washed you up with a washcloth. she then put you back into your shorts, and then her own hoodie.

"gonna get you back home and run you a bath, kay? dont gotta worry about anything ever again. I'll take care of you."

[seabirdtxt]

Hey, back at it with a request. I wanted to dump you with requests, but I also know that it takes you a bit to write, and I didn't want to overwhelm you ^^"""

Honestly though, with the requests I have in mind, I have a feeling they're going to become a spinoff series called "In which the Puppets learn the Creator is really, really bizarre."

With that said, this request will consist of some habits I have, and how our puppet boys would react to them! That being: reader is a night owl magpie who likes to collect a number of things. Whatever sparks their fancy, they hoard (It's why the Traveller has such a hoarding problem in the first place).

They collect some semi-formal things, like flowers and different plants, and like shiny rocks (Reader is familiar with the Language of Flowers, and I can fully see them and Kabukimono spending hours going over them. With Scara, Reader finds a piece of Rose Quartz in the shape of a heart and gives it to him, saying "You said you wanted a heart, right? Here you go! I know it isn't a real heart, but that's okay: because you already have a real one!")

But then they have the weird stuff they collect, like bones -and teeth -and scales - and bugs (Scara or Wanderer: "Why do you have this?" Reader, holding up the carcass of a beetle: "I just think they're neat!")

Or the worse part: literal trash. I'm talking broken pieces of glass and random metal parts, and like old candy wrappers that they've been keeping. (Again: Scara or Wanderer: "Get rid of this." Reader: "But it has sentimental value-!!!" S or W: "IT IS LITERALLY TRASH!!!")

But yes. Reader is a hoarder of many things.

i love this LOL i also hoard some pretty random things so like 🤝

(Might not have touched on all the same points as your ask bc i tried to keep it in-universe, but i tried to hit the major themes of each!)

WC. 1.5k

----- ⚘ -----

Flowers and Gems: Kabukimono

This collection is one of your gentler ones, and you take care to replenish it often with new blooms and interesting stones you pick up along your way. There is so much more novelty to collect here than back on earth, after all!

Kabukimono is fascinated by the variety of it, begging to be taken along with you the next time you venture out into the world to add more to your stash, and maybe take inspiration to start a collection of his own! It takes a bit of convincing, but you eventually relent and allow him to accompany you.

He follows you with wide eyes and an awed grin, asking you all about the various plants that the pair of you come across. You try to remember them as best as you can, reciting what you remember from the ingame tooltips.

“Wow! What’s this one?” Kabukimono asks, bounding up to a reddish pink bush. He delicately plucks one of the flowers, showing it to you proudly.

“That’s a silk flower!” You tell him, smiling as you take the flower from his hand. He only smiles and picks himself another one. “The people in Liyue can process them and make them into a very fine fabric!”

Kabukimono nods in understanding. “That makes sense! I know lots of kimono makers back home often talk about the quality of fabric from Liyue.”

“Fun fact,” you add, “back in my world, silk is such a sturdy material that it can resist piercing damage, to a certain extent! But it is very weak to slashing, or cutting damage.”

“That’s so interesting!” Kabukimono’s eyes go wider at the information. “I wonder if that's true of the silk from this world, too!”

“We probably shouldn’t, y’know… test it or anything,” you interrupt him before he lets his curiosity get the better of him. “We can probably ask a seamstress about it later.”

“Ohhh, good thinking.” Kabukimono agrees. He pockets his flower and looks around the area, scouting for the next object to collect. “Hey, do you have an electro crystal, yet? I heard you can only mine them using pyro!”

You let Kabukimono lead you to your next destination, already planning to press the new flower for your collection. Distantly, you wonder how the two of you are going to get an electro crystal, considering neither of you have pyro visions.

----- ⚘ -----

Beetles and Bones: Wanderer

“I went back to Springvale to ask if those hunters still had some of those ancient boar bones,” is what you say, offering a sheepish grin to Wanderer, who stares down at you with his arms crossed. In all honesty, you probably deserve the scrutiny for having somehow escaped his supervision for several hours.

“Did you at least get the, uh,,” Wanderer gestures at the cloth bag you’re holding in your arms. “Special bones you were looking for?”

“Yeah!” You exclaim, shaking the bag excitedly. It makes a rattling noise as you move. “Do you want to see them?”

You don’t wait to hear the answer, instead leading the way to your room, where part of your collection resides. You hear Wanderer step in and close the door behind you, waiting in curious silence as you carefully put your bag on your bed, pulling open the drawstring with reverence.

One by one, you bring out the intact bones the hunters were able to unearth from you. You brush off some of the remaining dust, then you begin laying them out on your bed in their approximate positions.

“That’s your special ancient boar?” Wanderer asks, sidling up to you and looking at the bones with you.

“Yes!” You finally place the jawless skull at the top of the unfinished skeleton, putting your hands on your hips with satisfaction. “I found it during a quest when I was still guiding the Traveler. I knew I had to have it in my collection when I got here!”

“Fair enough,” Wanderer nods. “Can I see the rest of your stuff?”

You are more than eager to show off the cool stuff you’ve been hoarding since your arrival in Teyvat, from smaller animal bones, to surprisingly intact shed lizard skins and molted duskbird feathers, and even some hollow onikabuto shells.

Wanderer picks up each one with care, mindful of your enthusiasm for your strange collection. He turns each object over slowly, inspecting them as you’re explaining the particularities of your collection.

“Hey, do you mind if I borrow some of these?” Wanderer eventually asks, as you’re nearing the end of your impromptu lecture. “I’ve got this Amurta elective that I haven’t started my project for, and some of these are interesting enough. I could probably write something about them.”

Your sudden silence is worrying, and he’s quick to backpedal in case he’d offended you in some way.

“Or, forget it, I mean-” he turns and pretends to scratch his nose to hide the dumb expression he knows he must be making. “I know this is all probably hard to get, so if you don’t want to risk it getting broken or stolen…”

“I would love to share it with you!!” Your sudden shout scares him out of his foul mood, and he looks at you in bemusement. Your eyes are wide and shiny, matching the stupid grin that settles on your face. Just as he’s about to reply, you leap up and scramble for one of the unopened drawers.

You proudly present a wooden box, and when you open it Wanderer can see the interior is padded and separated with thin wooden strips, creating protected compartments just big enough to fit some of the larger items in your collection.

“You’ve got to take extra good care of this stuff, okay?” You instruct him, and you help him pack the items he’d chosen into your carrying case. “I mean, I can probably find some of this stuff again, but the more delicate things are harder to come by. Promise you’ll be careful?”

He looks up at you, closing the lid of the box slowly and fastening it shut. “Yeah, I promise,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

----- ⚘ -----

Literal Garbage: Scaramouche

“You’re throwing this shit out, right?”

The noise you make, of absolute disgust and denial, is enough to make Scaramouche second guess his own words for a moment. He recovers faster than you’d give him credit for, picking up the broken clay jar and the dull shard of a broken sword. He holds up both in front of you, an accusing glare pinning you.

“Does this look like normal stuff to collect, to you?” he demands, tossing both back into the bin where he’d found them, retrieving a foil candy wrapper and a graphite pencil with no nib. Again, he discards both items with a noise of exasperation. “None of this stuff has any use! It’s all just garbage! Where do you even find this?!”

“Like,” you say, shuffling closer to your collection bin and putting the cover back on it slowly. “On the ground and stuff? I don’t know what you’re expecting.”

Scaramouche pinches the bridge of his nose with a loud sigh, but doesn’t make any move to reopen the bin. “You’re seriously testing my patience, here. Why are you collecting all this garbage? Can’t you collect something less… bizarre? Like seashells, or something.”

“I have some of those, too!”

“Not the point, here!”

You look down where your hands are pressing down on the lid of the bin, then back up at Scaramouche with a bit of a pout.

“Are you really making me throw it all out?” You ask, pitifully. He takes one look at you and grumbles with displeasure.

“That’s not what I said,” he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he looks down his nose at you. “You want to waste your time picking up other people’s trash and pretending it has meaning to you? Fine, be my guest. But don’t come crying to me when you realize you’re stuck with a container full of useless junk that nobody wanted anymore.”

“Sometimes, even the things that people feel have no practical use can be worth a lot to someone else,” you tell him. “Things don’t have to be worth anything to be wanted.”

Scaramouche chews on your words for a moment, then shrugs. “Sure, whatever you say, I guess.”

He doesn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon, so you tentatively open the bin and reach inside, fishing around until your fingertips grasp what you’re looking for.

“Are you sure you don’t recognize this one?” You ask, holding up the candy wrapper so he can see it. He scrunches up his nose at the offending item.

“Am I supposed to?”

“It’s from that festival in Inazuma,” you smile, bringing the wrapper to yourself gently. “The one you guys took me to when you found out I hadn’t been to one before.”

Scaramouche looks at it closer, out of the corner of his eye. He lets his shoulders slump and shakes his head with a huff.

“Whatever,” he says. “The rest of it is garbage, though.”

You put the wrapper away with a cheeky grin.

[baurbiediv]

Jack and reader separating for a little bit bc of his immaturity but get back together after like 6 months

black!reader

content warning: use of the n word, i warned you!

“i don’t think you understand how crazy you’re treating me right now. seriously, you got me out here looking like i’m some stupid girl. you’re telling me you’re out at the studio and you’re out clubbing with some trick and you want me to take you seriously?” you complained, poorly attempting to readjust your black silk nightgown. everything you were telling him went through one ear and out the other, the only thing he could truly focus on was the way you were yelling at him.

of course you took notice of this and you rolled your eyes, you snapped your manicured nails in front of his face, “are you even listening to anything i’m telling you right now?” you pressed him, although you already knew the answer to that. “look y/n, i’m sorry-“, were the only words to come from his mouth before you abruptly slammed the door in his face and locking the door.

“i don’t have time for this.”

the sound of your obnoxious text notifications had gone off continuously which caused your eyes to quickly open and locate where the phone was. you looked down at the floor below you to see your phone face down, picking it up you see none other than the last person that you wanted to message you:

jackman 🔐🩵

‘come on y/n answer the phone’

‘you playing right now’

‘can you please talk to me?’

‘i know i fucked up, but please?’

you let out a dramatic groan as you shut your phone off and laying back down. the phone went off yet again, this time you wanted to scream, once more you flipped over the phone to see who could’ve possibly been calling you, a sigh escaped your lips as you saw your best friends contact, semira, on the screen. you pressed the green accept button as her face popped up into the screen. “i am so glad to see your face.” you told her as you watched her eyebrow raised, “something’s off, what happened?” her voice stern as she examined you through the camera. you’d explained to her about what happened the previous night, to which she replied “niggas ain’t shit.”

you sighed, “but mira-“

she stopped you there before you could get another word out, “no y/n, this isn’t the first time this has happened and it won’t be the last, i keep telling you stop going back to his goofy ass but you don’t listen to me though. right?”

to be fair, she really was right. it wasn’t the first and it wasn’t the last either. the first time he bought you a birkin bag you’d had your eyes on and the second time he bought you a chanel necklace to make up for it. sure you liked the gifts but you were tired of the same old same old.

“i know but this time i really am serious.”

you tried to cut off contact with him, you really did but it was really working for you and semira had been really proud of you. until she wasn’t. you found yourself easily convinced that he was adjusting to his lifestyle and he wanted you right beside him. and so here you were laid up under him at the all white july 4th celebration.

“you know i love you right?” jack said, his arm resting lazily on your hip as the both you sat down on one of the many couches. his lips pressing wet kisses into your neck, your back turned to him as laid up against him. your eyes closed as you muttered a small “mhmm..”

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: it’s done!! it took me forever and i hope it lives up the expectations, but purple tie smut is here, as requested by the wonderful @smileysvech when she sent the middle picture, that really got the whole thing going 😅 also the title means “tie me up” in russian, allegedly, according to google translate

word count: 5.5k (which is wild bc i really thought it was longer whoops)

tw: use of a tie to restrain, dirty talk, smut

summary: andrei ties you up and has his way with you

Andrei presses his lips to the spot below your ear, sucking gently. His beard, grown in thick after weeks of being lazy about shaving, scratches deliciously at your skin. You wiggle under his attention, tugging gently at the fabric in your hands. He ignores you, trailing warm, soft kisses over your skin.

“Stop, Andrei,” you giggle, his nose brushing against the shell of your ear. “I’m trying to fix your tie.” You tug at the tie’s fabric again to emphasise your words. The breathless quality to your voice really undermines the effectiveness of your command. So naturally Andrei doesn’t listen.

His hands smooth over your hips, squeezing gently. “Fuck the tie,” he mumbles, kissing the side of your jaw. “Let me get you off before I go.”

Your cheeks heat up and you shake your head even though you want nothing more than to push him back on the bed and have your way with him. “You’ll be back home in like six hours,” you murmur, fingers working expertly to knot the purple silk tie at his neck. His proximity makes it hard for you to work quickly, the loose ends of the tie flipping up into both of your faces as you make the knot. You fucking love this tie, something about the brightness of the purple against his skin and hair color. “If you can wait that long, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

And whatever Andrei wants to do to you is usually something you can agree with. Half the time you’re convinced that you’re a sex addict, the way you constantly want his body on yours.

“Whatever I want?” Andrei repeats, fingers trailing along the waistband of your jeans. You shiver a little at the rough scrape of his calloused skin against your stomach. His index finger dips under the denim, blunt fingernail scraping against your side.

“Mhm,” you affirm, brushing imaginary lint off the lapels of his suit jacket, your fingers finding their way into the little hair wings at the nape of his neck and tugging gently. He makes a quiet purring noise, like an overgrown house cat.

He ducks his head and kisses you hungrily, tongue sweeping across your lower lip. You grasp at his collar, holding onto him when your knee buckle a little from the intensity of his kiss. Dazed, you barely comprehend him when he says roughly, “be ready for me, solnyshka. Because I’m taking control tonight.”

Heat pools between your legs and you subconsciously press your thighs together. “I…that sounds like a plan,” you stumble over the words, your brain short circuiting a bit from the heated look in Andrei’s eyes. He kisses the corner of your mouth, positively chaste for him, and pats your ass gently.

“I’ll see you later,” he says, letting you give his tie one final adjustment before raking his hand through his hair and heading out the door. The Lamborghini in the driveway revs and you press your thighs together, wondering just how annoyed he’d be if you took a little bit of the edge off before he gets home tonight.

You twist a shaky hand around the end of your hair and huff - just like Andrei to get you all hot and bothered when you won’t be satisfied for at least six or seven more hours. Luckily, or unluckily, you have a to-do list as long as your arm so you head out to your own car to run errands before the game.

The game is, to put it mildly, an unmitigated disaster. Andrei practically spends more time into penalty box than on ice, taking five different penalties over the three periods. Brady has to go down the tunnel after taking a puck to the face - luckily he’s fine save for a handful of stitches. Pyotr gets pulled after letting in the tying goal and there’s a minor scrum after the whistle to end the second. Worst of all, the Canes give up a 3-1 lead to lose 5-3.

You know Andrei is going to be cranky as hell when he gets home, but at the same time, he’ll be more aggressive in bed, which is something that you need right now. You’ve been trying to ignore the spark of desire that Andrei left you with before the game, but watching him play and argue with the refs from the penalty box, even though the TV, has you all hot and bothered again.

Sure enough, while you’re trying to kill time by cleaning up, you get a text from Andrei: Be naked for me when I get home. I don’t want to waste any time getting my mouth on you.

You blush at his text, grinning toothily to yourself.

But obediently and with shivers of excitement running up your spine, you change into a matching lace set - deep purple to match Andrei’s tie. You’re waiting at the door when Andrei pulls up, the Lamborghini’s engine cutting off and leaving an anticipatory silence in its wake. When Andrei opens the front door, you’re leaning casually against the wall, a small smirk on your face. He drops his bag to the floor and nearly growls when he sees you, muttering, “thank fuck,” and surging forward to kiss you.

He’s rough, one large hand coming to rest at the base of your throat, fingers pressing against the column of your neck, squeezing and tilting your chin up so he can kiss you hungrily. His mouth slants over yours, the force of his lips against yours almost bruising. Andrei’s other hand is on your waist, holding tightly and pulling you flush against him. You kiss him back, fingers threading through his hair, rocking against the front of his pants, his cock hard against your core. His body is hot through his suit.

“I said to be naked,” he mutters, keeping you pressed against the wall as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses from the hinge of your jaw down your neck. His hand is still wrapped at the base of your throat, his thumb caressing the jut of your collarbone. He squeezes, fingers flexing around your neck, and you gasp a little, feeling dizzy for a brief second before his grip loosens. Your head is thrown back against the wall so Andrei has easy access to your neck. His teeth scrape over your collarbone and he bites down, brief but sharp pain flaring and sending a rush of heat through your core.

“Thought you might have fun tearing these off,” you murmur, twisting your fingers in his hair and tugging. He hisses at the sensation and flexes his fingers over your hip. Those same fingers slide down to tangle in the thin lace covering your ass. He caresses one ass cheek before giving it a little pinch. You jolt in his grip, your panties completely soaked. A little moan slips past your lips and you press harder against his cock. He grins against your skin.

His teeth catch on the strap of your bra snapping it a little. “Did you pick this to match me, solnyshka?” He breathes the question, voice hoarse, while his hips roll lazily against yours. The press of his erection against your cunt is making coherent thought difficult. Your legs open a little more, your stance widening, and Andrei’s thigh moves in between them, lifting up so hard muscle is up against the throbbing heat of your cunt. You whine and rock your hips against him, the sensation of lace against your clit nearly enough to get you off.

“Mhm,” you hum, riding Andrei’s thigh while he moves both hands to your ass, gripping and kneading and pulling you harshly over his suit pants. His lips are on your neck again, biting and sucking marks all over your skin.

“Ty ne slushayesh', malen'kiy otrod'ye,” he says against your neck. Even if your brain wasn’t a lust-soaked puddle of goo, you’d have no idea what he’s saying. But the rough edge to his tone clicks in your brain and you know he’s reprimanding you for something. “I said I wanted you naked when I got home,” he continues, sliding you over his thigh again. His hand smacks against the side of your thigh, stinging a little. The rough drag of lace and suit fabric against your soaked cunt is heavenly, your hips rocking into the friction, eyes rolling back into your head.

“I…I…” you gasp, breathless from the building orgasm. Suddenly, Andrei’s thigh is gone from between your legs and you’re left wanting. “What?”

Your stomach twists, the throbbing between your legs incessant. Through the haze of the denied orgasm, you look up at Andrei and register that his mouth is twisted in a smirk and his eyes are dark from his blown pupils. “Little brats don’t get to come when they want. They have to earn it,” he says, voice like gravel. His fingers dig into your hips, bruising.

“Andrei…” you murmur, reaching for him. He shakes his head, dodging your touch.

His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, tugging experimentally. You whine, trying to get him to bring his thigh back where you want it by wrapping your hands around his belt and pulling on it, and he snaps the elastic against your skin. “Ah, little brat. When you don’t listen, you don’t get rewarded,” he wraps one hand around both your wrists and holds them over your head, scraping his teeth against your jaw. His other hand, still tangled in the lace, yanks, and the fabric shreds, falling to the floor and leaving you completely bare.

You shiver at the sudden exposure to the cool air, Andrei’s fingers dipping lower and teasing at the crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. He makes a low sound in the back of his throat, “not wet enough for what I want to do, solnyshka, we have some work to do.” He cups your cunt, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit. A strangled gasp stutters past your lips and you drop your head back against the wall, murmuring his name. “Upstairs,” he demands, releasing your hands and swatting at your ass to get you moving.

A giggle rips through your body and Andrei smiles at you, a full, genuine smile that shows off his missing tooth, breaking his character for a moment to kiss the side of your head. “Upstairs, solnyshka,” he growls against your hairline and you shiver again, practically skipping upstairs with Andrei hot on your heels, grabbing your ass as you go. Your thighs slip together, dripping with your arousal.

The bed is only partially made, the covers pulled up but rumpled and pillows haphazardly set at the top of the mattress. Andrei grabs at your waist and pulls you flush against the front of his body, hips rocking so the hard ridge of his cock presses against your bare ass. The fabric of his suit pants creates a delicious friction and you press your ass back against him, moaning a little. His hands splay out over your stomach, covering so much skin. “Are you going to listen now?” He asks lowly, breath tickling your ear and moving wispy strands of your hair.

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding as Andrei knocks his foot in between yours, spreading your legs apart and pushing down on your upper back so you bend at the waist. Your hands brace against the mattress and Andrei’s down between your legs. He bites one of your ass cheeks, soothing over the spot with his tongue, stroking lazily at your clit with the tip of one finger. Your legs shake and arousal floods your stomach, dripping down your thighs. “Andrei…” you murmur his name, bending further and resting your weight on your forearms. The new position pushes your ass higher in the air and closer to his face, giving him the opportunity to attach his mouth to your cunt from behind. A shriek rips from your throat when he sucks at your clit, hands wrapped around your thighs to keep you in place. He hums against you and it’s only a matter of heartbeats before you’re coming on his face, gasping for air.

“Good girl,” Andrei’s voice is muffled, “but you can do better.”

He flattens his tongue over you and your hands scrabble at the sheets, fisting the fabric until your knuckles are white. You chant his name, voice getting higher and higher pitched as he licks at you, sliding one hand up over the front of your thigh and circling your clit with a calloused fingertip. As Andrei works you over, you raise up on your tiptoes, pressing your face into the mattress and screaming his name. He presses his fingertip firmly against your clit and you see stars, your entire body going liquid. He holds his finger in place, never letting you get relief from the overwhelming sensation.

Andrei strokes at the back of your thigh with one hand, using the other to coax you through the aftershocks of your second orgasm. You slump against the bed, turning your head to the side so you can breathe. “That was…” you mumble, shaking your head.

With a low chuckle, Andrei gets up, leaving you feeling empty, and manoeuvres your limp body so you’re on your back, ass and legs hanging off the edge. The entire lower half of his face is shiny with your arousal and he looks self-satisfied. “I have so much more I want to do with you, solnyshka,” he rasps, shedding his suit jacket and tossing it onto the chair in the corner of the room. He reaches down and winds his hand under your back, unhooking your bra with practiced fingers. The lace is tugged off your breasts and tossed to the floor in a dismissive gesture.

You stretch a little, arching your back, nipples pebbling under Andrei’s heated gaze. He trails the backs of his knuckles over the side of one breast, running his thumb against the underside. Your nipples tighten painfully, pinching under his light touch.

“Like what?” You murmur hazily, eyes heavy lidded.

Andrei hooks his index finger into the knot of his tie and wiggles it back and forth, loosening the fabric. His full lips curl up into a smirk and he tugs at the purple silk, pulling the tie out from under his collar. Loosely, he wraps it around his fingers and flexes them. “Arms up,” he commands. “Over your head.”

Oh.

Excitement zips down your spine and you manage to scoot back up the mattress, your arms over your head and crossed at the wrist. “You’re in charge,” you grin, the post-orgasm haze fading away as fresh desire blooms in your stomach.

Andrei rests one knee on the mattress next to you, tracing his hand up your arm before looping the tie around your wrists and expertly tying it off and keeping you attached to the headboard. “Good?” He asks genuinely. His hands wrap loosely around your wrists, fingers running under the tie’s fabric to make sure it’s not too tight.

You give your arms an experimental tug - tight enough to keep you in place, but not tight enough to hurt you. “Very,” you nod, rubbing your thighs together.

“If you start to hurt,” he says, popping the top few buttons on his shirt with his fingers, “you tell me.”

It’s an order, not a suggestion, and you nod again, obedient. He grins at you, working the rest of the buttons through their holes and letting his shirt hang open. You enjoy the glimpse of tanned, toned stomach and press your thighs together again, wiggling against the mattress as desire rolls through your body. “You’re dripping,” he murmurs, voice low. The shirt gets dropped to the floor, his muscles flexing with the movement. He runs a hand over his pecs, flicking at a nipple with the tip of his middle finger. You watch as the bulge behind his zipper grows, straining the fabric to its limits.

“It’s all for you, baby,” you reply, licking your lower lip. “Touch me, Drei. Please.”

Andrei’s hand drifts down his stomach, scratching lightly, before he roughly runs the palm of his hand over his growing erection. “I thought I was in charge here?” The question is rhetorical. Your wrists are tied over your head and Andrei’s not about to touch you before he’s decided you’re both ready. His palm works lazily over his cock and his jaw is tight, so you know he’s feeling the pain of the confinement of his pants.

You let your legs fall open, baring yourself to him, and Andrei sucks in a breath. A muscle tics in his jaw and his hand stops its lazy path. “You are,” you whisper, “you’re in charge. But you know you want to touch me, baby. It’ll feel so good.” Heat rushes between your legs and you can feel the sheets growing damp underneath your ass. Your breathing grows shallow with the effort of keeping your legs open. All you want is relief from the ache.

Andrei kneels at the foot of the bed, his hands running up your calves. He lifts one leg up and kisses the inside of your ankle, the scrape of his stubble making you shiver. “Good for you, solnyshka? Or good for me?” His breath his hot on your skin.

“Both of us,” you stumble over the words - his other hand is moving further up your leg, thick, strong fingers squeezing at your thigh. His fingertips stop inches from where you want them and his grip on your ankle, keeping it at his shoulder level, is preventing you from rubbing your legs together so you’re left to suffer through the throbbing of your clit, the unbearable desire for him to fill you up.

Andrei kisses the inside of your knee before putting your leg back down on the bed. He’s lightning fast, grabbing your ankle again before you can press your legs together. “Ah,” he admonishes you, “legs apart. You’re only coming when I say so.” He spreads your legs and taps the tops of your feet. “Keep them here.” His tone brokers no argument

You nod and watch his every move, his hands going to his belt buckle and undoing it, the metal clinking softly. He grins, watching you watch him, and makes a show of it. The button on his suit pants is flicked open slowly and he takes his time with the zipper, letting out an involuntary groan when his cock is freed from the confines of his pants. The fabric covered bulge of his erection is prominent between the open v of his zipper and your mouth waters, your hips wiggling on the bed with your legs still splayed open, trying to remain obedient.

Andrei kicks his pants off, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor and all you can see is his gorgeous body. Smooth, tanned skin covering lean muscle. And he’s all yours.

“Should I get rid of these?” He asks, hooking one thumb in the waistband of his boxer-briefs, tugging them down slightly so the line of his hip bone is exposed. His other hand dips below the fabric, and you watch hungrily as the fabric stretches obscenely around the movement of his hand fisting his cock and stroking roughly. Your eyes are glued to the movement, watching his hand work.

Your head bobbles on a nod, back arching as you try and get some sort of relief from the ache between your legs. At this point, you’re so turned on just seeing Andrei’s cock will probably be enough to get you off. Now that you’re mostly recovered from the two back to back orgasms, you’re desperate for another. “Wanna see you,” you murmur, kicking a foot at him weakly before planting it flat on the mattress and opening yourself up further for him. “Wanna have you in me.”

“Be patient, solnyshka,” Andrei’s voice is a low growl that shoots straight down your spine, warming your stomach. He grins when you shiver, finally pushing down his briefs, letting his cock free. He’s still gripping it in one strong hand, but you can see the red, weeping tip and you can’t help it - your legs snap together, thighs clenching and twisting, trying to get some relief. You close your eyes and breathe heavily, struggling to keep your arms over your head when they want so badly to rub between your legs and relieve the pulsing ache.

The next thing you know, your legs are wrenched apart and Andrei’s shoulders are keeping your thighs spread. “Andr-“ you gasp his name, cutting off in a moan when he brushes his nose against your clit, licking at you and flattening his tongue over you. He stiffens his tongue and plunges it into your cunt, fucking you hard and fast. Your arms jerk, instinctively trying to reach down and tangle your hands in his hair, to hold his face against you. An unintelligible wail leaves your throat while Andrei works you over, holding your inner thighs still with both hands.

You chant his name, babbling and kicking your feet out as he tongues your clit, sucking down on the sensitive nub and ripping an orgasm from your body. Andrei keeps licking, drawing more from you until there’s a gush of fluid between your legs and you wriggle, trying to get away from his face. It’s too much, too fast, and tears stream down your face, overwhelmed. Your back arches off the bed, hips pushing up into Andrei’s face while he sucks at your clit.

“Too much, too much,” you cry, nudging at Andrei’s side with your heel. The aftershocks of your orgasm have your legs trembling, stomach muscles clenching. Andrei pulls back, leaning on his knees a little. His face is soaked with your arousal - again! You didn’t think that you could come like that, hard and fast and gushing - and he swipes a hand over his mouth, licking his lips.

His eyebrows are drawn together in concern and he runs a gentle hand over your shin. “You are okay? Should I stop?” His cock bobs in front of his stomach, looking painfully hard, and you suck in a shaky breath, evaluating.

“No, I want,” you hiccup the words, catching your breath, “I want more. Keep going. But slower.” You can’t even form a coherent thought, but every nerve ending in your body is on fire and you just want more of Andrei. “Too many, too fast,” you murmur, dropping back against the pillows, shifting your ass out of the damp spot on the sheets.

“Okay,” he runs calloused palms over the tops of your thighs, thumbs stroking at the sweaty skin, “slower for my baby. You’re so good.” He croons the praise. “So good for me, taking my fingers and my tongue like an angel.”

Andrei’s words are slurring in a mix of English and Russian and you know all the blood in his body is in his cock, making him distracted. You grin at him, looking at him through your eyelashes, and shift your wrists over your head. The silk tie twists and rubs at your skin, warm from your body heat. You want to be untied so you can get your hands on Andrei, run them over his shoulders and chest, wrap your fingers around his cock, but he’s not done with you yet.

He lies flat on his stomach between your legs, giving you a perfect view of his muscled back and ass. Andrei bites gently at the inside of your thigh, running his tongue over the spot to soothe it. His beard rasps against your skin, making your whole body shake, and he winds his left arm under your right thigh, holding his fingers against the inside of your thigh and resting his cheek against your skin. “We go slow, solnyshka,” he promises, as if he hasn’t already given you three mind-blowing orgasms, as if you hadn’t come in a gushing flood all over his face. The fingers of his free hand trail up the outside of your left thigh, dancing over the jumping muscles. You relax under his touch, loose-limbed and hazy, brushing the sole of your foot over his side, making him twitch when you reach a ticklish spot.

“I think about this all day,” Andrei says roughly, pressing the pad of his thumb against the crease of your thigh, swiping it through your sweat and arousal. “From the time I leave,” his breath is hot and tickles your thigh, making you clench your core muscles. Andrei’s eyes darken as he watches your cunt squeeze around nothing. “All I want is this, you, tied up, sitting there like a queen.” His fingers skate over your skin, swiping through your folds, making you shudder and clench. The tip of his index finger dips inside of you, pumping slowly, lazily, providing no real satisfaction. You clench around it, the single fingertip no comparison to the length and thickness of his cock. You need more than one finger in you for any satisfaction.

This is just Andrei teasing you, making sure you’re desperate for him.

“Andrei,” you whine, wriggling in his grip, engaging your stomach muscles and trying to sit up more. He presses his fingers harder against your inner thigh, scraping over your hipbone with his teeth.

“Moya koroleva,” he mumbles against the mark he made. “Purple for royalty, my beautiful queen, wet and sweet for me. Waiting for her king to make her happy. To make her scream.”

Your back arches off the bed when his thumb circles your clit, still swollen and sensitive. Andrei’s dirty talk always makes you wetter than you thought possible. He grins against your skin, plunging a second finger inside of you and moving his wrist. You let out a keening wail when his fingers curl, bending your free leg at the knee and pulling ineffectually at the tie around your wrists. As Andrei works harder, pumping his fingers in and out of you, reaching his other hand up over your stomach to splay out and keep you in place, you force your eyes open, hating to miss the show.

He adds a third finger, stretching you to your limits. His hand and wrist is damp, the insides of your thighs sticky and trembling.

His head is buried between your legs, licking delicately at your clit, the smooth expanse of his back shining with sweat. The perfect round globes of his ass jerk and move with his irregular rutting into the mattress. The bed shakes under you, Andrei’s hips pistoning. “Drei, baby,” you gasp, wanting him inside of you. It’s a fucking crime for him to get himself off against the bed instead of inside of you. “Please, please, come…” your words are slurred and unintelligible, “in me. On me. Drei, please!”

“One more, solnyshka, then me,” he mumbles, curling his fingers. “One more. Give me one more. I want to see you fall apart.”

He plunges his fingers to the second knuckle and you scream, clamping your thighs together around Andrei’s head. His laughter is muffled and the vise-like grip you have around him makes his movements shorter and sharper, his fingers pumping in quick little bursts. Pleasure coils low in your stomach, building up your spine, your thighs clenching around Andrei’s head until the dam breaks and you scream, Andrei’s fingers pressed firmly against your G-spot, his tongue relentless against your swollen clit. You cry, writhing under his palm, feet flat on his shoulders. His face pushes against your cunt, hips working into the mattress, your back sliding up the bed until your arms are a little bent at the elbows, the tension from the tie going slack. Breathing heavily, you grind against his face and hand, chasing the last of the aftershocks.

Your body goes limp, completely wrung out. Satisfied with himself, Andrei pulls his fingers from your cunt and sits back on his knees, cock standing proudly at attention, looking impossibly hard. “Andrei,” his name is a dreamy, weary sigh on your lips and he grins, cocky as hell.

“My turn,” he says simply, leaning over your body, covering it with his, and jerking his hips forward. He enters you in one easy slide, settling himself in the cradle of your hips. He plants his forearms on either side of your head, face inches from yours. “I’ll do all the work.”

Andrei closes the distance between your faces, kissing you lazily as his hips pump, the head of his cock hitting deep inside of you. You groan into his mouth, pain and pleasure mixing and setting every nerve ending in your body on fire. You’re so wet and slick for him the glide of his cock is seamless, so turned on that there’s no burn from the stretch of him filling you. His mouth trails hot, wet kisses over your jaw, biting at your earlobe while he snaps his hips into yours. “So wet, so tight,” Andrei mumbles into your ear. “All mine. Only mine. Ya tebya lyublyu, moya solnyshka.”

You wrap your legs around his hips and squeeze tightly, urging him to go harder, faster. He does, grunting into your hair, the powerful muscles of his legs and back working hard. Your heels dig into his ass cheeks and Andrei buries his face in your neck, your skin muffling his shout. Above you, his entire body tightens before he comes, finishing in you with a few powerful, stuttering strokes of his hips. You’re not going to come this time, but you’ve had your fill of orgasms and really just want to get to the point of the night where you can cuddle with Andrei.

“Come on, baby,” you murmur in his ear, desperate to get your hands on him. “Fill me up.”

Andrei bites at your neck, making you squeal and laugh, lifting your hips up to meet his. When he’s done, still half-hard inside of you, his body drops on top of yours, a warm, sweaty weight. You brush your nose against his temple, legs still wrapped around his waist. He’s still for a minute, kissing lightly against the side of your neck and tucking his hands under your head to tangle his fingers in your hair. You wiggle a little under him, starting to feel a little crushed.

“Andrei,” you whine a little, “I feel kind of gross.” There’s cum dripping out of you and down your ass cheeks, sweat and spit drying on every part of your body.

“One minute,” he mumbles, tugging on your hair gently before rolling off of your body. He looks at your seriously, a frown line forming between his eyebrows. “You didn’t come.” His pout is sweet, a stubborn glint in his eyes telling you that he’s ready to dive back in and give you another orgasm.

A laugh bubbles out of your chest. “Andrei, baby, I lost track of how many orgasms I just had, I’m good. I promise,” you grin sleepily, rubbing your legs together against the stickiness on your thighs. “Untie me and carry me to the bathtub.”

Not that you’d tell Andrei, but your shoulders are starting to go numb. He kisses the underside of your arm and reaches up to undo the knot. The silk tie loosens and Andrei wraps it around his hand while your arms fall into your lap. You sigh happily, stretching your arms to the side and rotating the feeling back into them. “I love that tie,” you grin, sitting up completely now that you have full

movement back.

“I love the purple against your skin,” Andrei replies, running his silk-wrapped knuckles over your side.

You roll onto your side and throw your leg over Andrei’s hip. “We should get silk sheets,” you suggest. “Think how nice those will feel…”

Andrei shifts back and tugs you closer, rubbing his hands over your shoulders, loosening the tension that had built up. You sigh and let your head flop back onto the pillow, mumbling “oh, that’s nice.”

His hands work down your arms, massaging the tight muscles and encircling your wrists, rubbing his thumbs over the reddish marks left from your struggle against the restraint. Andrei lifts each wrist to his mouth and kisses the marks, melting your heart. “Whatever your serdtse desires, solnyshka,” Andrei mumbles against your skin, “I’ll give you.”

Giggling lightly, you sigh, “right now, all my heart desires is a hot bath with my fiancé and a fancy sandwich the size of my head. With like three different kinds of cheese.”

Andrei’s answering laugh rumbles through his chest and vibrates your entire body. “I can give you both of those,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Stay here and I will make the bath for you.”

He climbs out of bed and pulls on his briefs, leaving you to stretch out happily, the pleasant post-sex soreness settling into your entire body. You blink slowly, listening to Andrei run the bath water, thinking how lucky you are to have a man who’ll tie you up, have his way with you, and then treat you like a queen afterwards.

“Flower bubbles or citrus bubbles?” Andrei calls from the bathroom.

A goofy grin transforms your face. God, you love him so much.

[127tyong]

Heartbreaker

Pairing: Yuta X Taeyong X Reader X Johnny

Genre: Smut, Revenge AU, Virgin Taeyong (bc ty's cutest when he's pathetic), PWP (plot? i hardly know her)

Warnings: Breakup Sex, Oral (male) Public(ish) Sex, Yuta focus, Revenge Sex,

Word Count: 4k

“Yuta!” You called out, your heels clicking on the pavement.

Yuta leaned in, kissing your cheek, his blonde hair tickling you. “You look so beautiful, as always.”

“And you look quite handsome.” You straightened his tie for him, your hands tightening his silky tie, looking at his suit, the gray fabric perfectly fitting him.

He always looked perfect.

“Well, I suppose it’s time for our date.” Yuta stretched out his hand towards you, and you gently placed your hand in his.

~

"And 2 filet mignons, please." Yuta finished ordering for both you and him. "Thank you." He smiled up at the waitress, who blushed back, then walked away. "Place the napkin in your lap." His eyes cold, glaring at you.

"Right! Sorry." You hurriedly laid the cloth napkin on your skirt.

"I was thinking," Yuta sipped his red wine. "We could come to my place after this."

You already knew where this was going. Going to Yuta's place always meant sex. "Hm." You hummed, sipping your own wine, your pinky extended as Yuta always instructed you to do. "Sure."

Yuta was extra happy that night, cutting up your steak for you and pouring your wine.

But of course, Yuta's only ever sweet to you until he gets what he wants… But he knew you'd do anything for him.

~~~

“Sh…” Yuta cooed in your ear, kissing your neck. “Be a good little girl for me.”

The silk tie now around your wrists, your legs spread open, ball gag in your mouth. He attached the nipple clamps on your now-hard nipples, the chain connecting them cold, and the clamps themselves way too tight, pinching, feeling like they would rip your nipples off.

He gently pulled on the chain, causing you to scream in pain, drool and tears running down your face and neck.

“Shut the fuck up, I didn’t even pull it all that hard.” Yuta scoffed and slapped your tits. His gaze scared you, the smile on his face signaling not his love for you, but his love for your pain.

You wanted to cry, but knew crying would only make things worse. At this point, you’ve fucked Yuta several times, and knew he got off to two things, your tears and your moans.

“So cute…” Yuta’s lips trailed down from your chest to your stomach, until they reached your clit.

The cold sensation of his rings clutching onto your thighs startled you. He clutched onto your warm thighs, his hands digging into your soft flesh, his arms squeezing your fat around his head.

He licked and sucked on your folds, the bar of his tongue piercing flicking your clit. Everything about him was cold.

And he loved your warmth. He loved the way your eyes glowed when you talked about anything you’re passionate about, but he might like the look of fear you gave him that night a bit more. He loved the way you smiled, but figured he liked your tears more. Your pathetic begs for mercy, and your little groans. 

He kept eating you out until you were shaking, then immediately slid his dick in, causing you to scream in agony.

“I love you.” He moaned into your ear, cradling your head in his arms, his lips on your neck. “I love you so fucking much, you have no idea.”

You let your body warm up to him, finally relaxing. 

“I already want to cum inside you.” Yuta groaned out, unable to hold back his moans and whines. You were sure he’s been waiting to fuck you all day. “Pussy’s so good for me.” He slid his hand, then his arm under your back, forcing you to arch your back. “Such a fucking good girl.”

You became increasingly more sensitive and moaned through the gag on your mouth. 

“I’m gonna cum too, baby…” Yuta pressed his lips against your neck one last time, then straightened his back. “Gonna pull these things off you when you cum.” He grabbed the chain of the nipple clamps. 

You whined a bit, knowing that would hurt.

“Shut up. I’m gonna cum.” Yuta’s thrusts got more intense, then he came inside you, pulling the chain as hard as he could.

It was probably the worst pain Yuta’s ever put you through, so much so that you couldn’t enjoy your own orgasm, or the warmth of Yuta’s cum flowing inside you…

Yuta finally took the gag off you. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” You wiped the drool off your mouth with your shoulder.

“You still love me, right?” Yuta looked at you with puppy eyes.

“I will once you untie me.”

~

The same restaurant, the same table, the same waitress… the next week.

“I’m breaking up with you.” Yuta kept cutting your steak, across from you at the 5-star restaurant. “I cheated on you last night.” He thrust the piece of meat in your mouth.

“Excuse me?” You looked up.

Yuta rolled his eyes. “I’m-”

You loudly sighed. “I heard you the first time. What the fuck do you mean you cheated on me?”

“I don’t want to be with you anymore.” Eating the meat, drinking his red wine, pretending to be casual. Everything about this felt like a fever dream, but you quickly came to your senses. 

You grabbed your purse. “Fuck you, Yuta!” You grabbed the cup of water and splashed it on him. “I hope you got gonorrhea!”

~

Your best friend, Yuna, pat your head. “There there hun. There there.”

All you could do was cry and cry for multiple days.

~

“Feeling better?” Yuna hugged you once you woke up.

You nodded. “Yeah. I guess. Honestly, I’m not even sad anymore, I’m just pissed off.”

Yuna squealed, sitting across from you on the bed. “Revenge time! What are you thinking?”

“Instant mashed potatoes in his front yard? Slash his tires?” You shrugged.

“No, no, no!” Yuna shook her head, her hair shaking. “You should fuck his friends! He cheated on you, so you fuck his friends!”

You gasped. “No fucking way! I can’t even imagine!”

“I know Yuta was great in bed, but come on, think about it! Isn’t he friends with Johnny?” Yuna grabbed her phone off the nightstand. “That man is so fucking hot.” She showed you pictures of Johnny.

“Isn’t that the emo kid from Horton Hears A Who?” You snorted at your own joke.

Her nails loudly clicked against her phone screen. “You’re such a bitch. There’s Taeyong?”

You scoffed. “That’s Jack Frost.”

“Hey! Jack Frost is hot!” Yuna giggled.

You rolled your eyes. “You think Nick Wilde is hot!”

“He is!” Yuna tossed her phone on the bed. “Okay, okay. Let’s be serious. Taeyong and Johnny are actually really fucking hot. What’s your problem?”

“I don’t know, Yuna, what if they see through me?” You stood up to go wash your face.

“I know for a fact Johnny will stick his dick in anything with two legs and is breathing.” Yuna giggled. “Including me.”

“Yuna!” You looked at her, soap on your face.

Yuna waved you off. “Hey, it was before you and Yuta dated! But give him a try, I know he’s always at parties!”

~

“Even if Yuta’s beyond these doors, who the hell cares?” Yuna stumbled out of the Uber, sliding cash to the driver. “I’ll stay with you until you hook up with someone!”

“I care, you fucking bitch.” You scoffed, the high of pregaming with Yuna quickly fading.

“Hey! You’re not gonna cry, and I swear to God, if you do, I will shove my goddamned titty into your mouth and act like you’re lesbian now.” Yuna pulled her shirt down, shoving her cleavage in your face.

You rolled your eyes at her. “What world do you live on?” You then opened the door, entering the house party. The nauseating scent of musk and cannabis quickly filled your nose. You glanced up, seeing Yuta staring right at you, sitting at a dining room table, his fists whitening as he saw you in that dress.

That fucking dress… The dress you wore on your first date with him. The dress you lost virginity to him in.

“Come on! I need weed!” Yuna ran to sit on the living room floor, lighter already out of her purse and into her hand.

“So much for her sticking by my side…” You rolled your eyes, pulling out your phone to search for Johnny’s Instagram.

“I’d never want to leave your side.” A boy next to you snickered.

“And you are?” You asked, not even bothering to look up from your phone.

“Johnny. The boy you have pulled up on Insta.”

You quickly turned off your phone and stared up at him. “Oh, I, uh…”

Johnny tucked your hair behind your ear, smirking. “Don’t worry, I know your type… Hear a few rumors and get curious? For the record, they’re not true but for you… Maybe.” Johnny leaned in to kiss you.

You quickly kissed him back. “Fuck me right here, right now…” 

Johnny’s hands trailed down to your ass, cupping it. “Maybe upstairs.” 

Johnny pulled you upstairs, as Yuna screamed for you to “get some!”.

He pushed you into a bedroom, immediately unbuckling his belt. He chuckled lowly, as he pulled your dress up, bending you over the bed and pulled your thong to the side. “Such a good girl, already so wet for me, hm? I guess that’s what happens when you come to a party knowing I’d be fucking you tonight…” He slid a finger up and down your folds, making you wetter. “Gonna shove it in you now.”

You furiously nodded. “Need it… Need it so bad Johnny. Make me cum. Don't even bother with foreplay.”

“God, you’re such a fucking whore.” Johnny teased you with your tip, making you desperately moan out for him. After a bit of torment, he finally slid it in you slowly.  

“Fuck!” You extended your hands in front of you, gripping the sheets. “So fucking big…” You thrust your hips back at him, needing more friction.

“Gonna fill you up…” Johnny held onto you by your waist, thrusting into your womb, watching your ass jiggle as he fucked you. 

“Please! Fill me up!” You thought you were going to have to exaggerate your moans, but your screams came out naturally as you mentally checked out, and could only hear the sound of skin against skin, and Johnny’s grunts.

“You love my cock, don’t you? Dick so good I’ll make sure you never forget it.” Johnny’s arms wrapped around your waist, picking you up then slamming you onto his cock, using you like a toy, as if you weighed nothing.

“Johnny…” You mumbled. “Johnny, Johnny, Johnny!” Your voice heightened in rapid succession. 

Johnny grinded his teeth. “Gonna make the whole party hear you over the music.” He bit into your shoulder, tracing circles into your clit.

“Johnny…” You moaned out, head fallen back.

“God, you’re already a mess. Lick it up.” He dropped you back onto the bed, swirling his fingers into your mouth.

You stuck out your tongue as he pulled his fingers back out. “I’m gonna…”

“Cum for me, pretty.” Johnny pulled out, his hot, thick liquid spilling onto your dress, opting to finger you through your climax.

Johnny traced his fingers onto your tongue. “Good girl.”

Johnny slid his pants back on. “Oh, by the way what’s your name?”

You grumbled as reality set in, pulling your dress down. “Don’t worry about it.” 

"No, I'm serious, I wanna meet up with you again!" Johnny grabbed your wrist.

You shook him off. "I'm Yuta's ex girlfriend." You slid out the door and back down stairs.

Yuna ran towards you. “I could hear you from down here! Jesus Christ, I might need to go for that again. Wait, is that cum?” 

“Ugh! I love this dress!” You cried.

Yuna pulled you into the kitchen, grabbing some paper towels and wiping Johnny’s cum off you. You made eye contact with Yuta, who was still sitting at the table, right next to you. “Yu, I wanna go home.” You cooed.

Yuta stood up, his gaze still on you, Adam’s apple bobbing. 

Yuna tossed the paper towels in the trash can. “Hey, you just fucked Johnny Suh! Let’s celebrate! To us, and to how you’re gonna drive Yuta insane! Let’s go!”

You went to the bar and grabbed some drinks. 

"Hey." An arm wrapped around your waist. "I see you got my cum off you." Johnny pressed his lips against your neck. "I remember you. I always wanted to fuck you… I guess it's just my luck that I'm just a rebound."

"Don't take it personally, Johnny. You are hot…" You handed him a beer.

Johnny shrugged. "You still into Yuta?"

"He cheated." You sighed, chugging your drink, eyes wandering towards Yuta's. "No."

Johnny pulled you onto the couch, making you straddle him, pressing his thumb on your chin, forcing your head towards him.  "Keep your eyes on me. I'll make you forget him."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his confidence. "So you're actually fine with fucking your friend's leftovers?"

"You're on my lap, aren't you? Got my cum on your dress…" Johnny slapped your ass, squeezing it through your dress.

"You're an asshole for that, I like this dress!" You smacked his hand off of you.

Johnny kissed your collarbone. "I'll buy you a new one."

"Girl!" Yuna grabbed you by your hair, pulling your head down until your eyes were level with the ceiling. "Drink!" She had a vodka bottle in her hand and started pouring it into your mouth, forcing you to drink due to fear of the alcohol getting into your eyes.

Johnny pulled the bottle out of Yuna's hands pretty quickly, though. "She's already had a bunch of drinks tonight, Yuna."

"Oops!" Yuna giggled. "I know her tolerance, though!" 

"Yuna…" You groaned, then slowly started to black out.

~

Truely, every bad decision you’ve made in your adult life started with “Yu” and ended with “A”. It was just a matter of if it was an “N” or “T” in between. 

At least, that’s what you were thinking when you were hurled over the bushes outside of the party.

“Come on!” Yuna slapped your back. “Breathe, our Uber’s here!”

“I’ll take her home.” Yuta appeared next to Yuna, and escorted her into the car, instructing one of his friends to go with her. “You’re a fucking mess when you’re drunk.”

“No…” You groaned out. “Not you.”

“No choice, can’t have you puking in an Uber.” Yuta grabbed your arm, wrapping it around his shoulders, shifting your weight towards him to help you stand up.

You ended up on the back of Yuta’s motorcycle, your head on his back, the wind helping you sober up. The entire ride, all you could think about was how much you missed dating Yuta, how he touched you, how he loved you… and how much of a walking red flag he was.

"Come on, in the house you go." You were slung over Yuta's shoulders again. Yuta grabbed your spare key, the one you told him about when you were dating him, and unlocked the door to your house.

“Shower…” You mumbled.

"Wait till tomorrow." Yuta placed you onto your couch. "I'll make you some food."

You stumbled into the bathroom and laid in the tub.

Yuta sighed and helped you take your clothes off. "Covered in my friend's goddamn cum." He turned the water on and filled the tub.

"Why… Why'd you cheat?" You asked, still drunk, unable to filter your thoughts.

"I… I'm not sure." Yuta washed your hair for you, knowing how to do it properly after multiple showers with you. "I don't know."

You had fallen asleep before he could tell you, so Yuta finished bathing you then he put you to bed.

"I love you." He kissed you on the cheek.

~

When you woke up, Yuta was gone, but he left you a note on your nightstand.

I bathed you last night because you wouldn't sleep without one. I bought you medication. I hope you're not too hungover.

Also, please call me. I want to talk to you.

So of course, you called Yuna and told her to come to your house.

"Absolutely not." Yuna read the letter, placing it back down on the kitchen table, eating your cereal.

"But what if he wants to explain?" You sighed, sipping your morning coffee. "I don't even remember what I did last night after I fucked Johnny!"

"We got shitfaced, I mistakenly let Yuta take you home, end of story." Yuna sighed. "And Doyoung took me home. By the way, you should go for that too. But he might be too vanilla for you. But if you don't, I'm gonna ask him out on a date. I woke up next to him." Yuna shoved the bowl back to you.

"You know I don't do vanilla." You gave Yuna your mug, and she drank the rest of the contents. "He's all yours."

"Listen, we're so used to sharing everything, why stop at food?" Yuna laughed.

"Hey, you're saying that like you're the girl Yuta cheated on me with." You drank the milk.

"Ew, you know I don't do that whole BDSM shit." Yuna rolled her eyes. "Anyways, what's your plan with Taeyong?"

You pulled out your phone. "Look, he's a Twitch streamer." 

Taeyong's voice came out of your phone, something about "Rabbit Knight".

"I'll tell him I'm a fan, or something." You watched his stream, his giggles filling the room. "He has like, 2000 viewers right now, actually."

"Sub right now!" Yuna instructed you.

tyongie's rabbit subbed for 3 months!

you're so cute &lt;3

"Thank you, tyongie's rabbit for the subs!" Taeyong kissed his stuffed bunny. 

Yuna sighed, stretching her neck. "Well, I'm gonna go home, see you later."

You nodded, and went to your computer to watch the stream.

"Woah, tyongie's rabbit with the 700 bits! Thank you!"

This went on until Taeyong said "Okay! I'm gonna go now, see you guys tomorrow!"

i already miss you :(

You gifted 3 dollars.

"No, don't miss me! I'll be back, same time tomorrow! Okay! Bye guys!" Taeyong turned off the stream, his end screen playing.

You were about to turn off your computer, but saw you had a message.

TY TRACK has messaged you.

Hey! Thanks for all the support.

You assumed it was an automated message, but still decided to reply.

hey ty, your streams are so good :)) excited to see u again!To your surprise, he actually replied. 

Of course! See you tomorrow 

~

“Anyways, tomorrow I won’t be able to stream! I know, I’m sorry! However, I promise I’ll do a longer stream the day after!”

You started to think about what he might be doing, then decided to ask Yuna.

"Oh! Doyoung just told me that Taeyong usually goes to the arcade alone when he's not streaming. Maybe try there?"

~

After mentally battling with yourself, you decided to go to the arcade the next day, buying an arcade card.

You found Taeyong nearly immediately, his tattoos and pink hair making him obvious.

You looked at him from behind a claw machine, trying to not look like a stalker.

Taeyong sighed, slumping over a machine, then made his way over to you. "Do I know you?" He asked harshly, his glare cold.

"I, umm…" You tried to think of an excuse.

"Stop following me around." Taeyong scratched the back of his head.

"I'm tyongie's rabbit! I'm sorry! I swear I'm not stalking you, but I recognized you… I'll leave if you want me to." You backed up, hitting the machine behind you.

Taeyong rubbed the back of his neck. "It's a public space, I guess these things happen. Sorry for getting mad. I see you in my chat often though… Wait, aren't you Yuta's girlfriend?"

"So about that…" You told Taeyong the whole story.

Taeyong listened the whole time, very interested. "That asshole. So you're trying to fuck me to get back at him?"

"Pretty much…" You looked at the bunny in the claw machine.

Taeyong swiped his arcade card and placed his hand on the buttons. "I'll win it for you. Let's post a picture together, it'll make him go insane." He handed you the bunny after he won it, wrapping an arm around you then taking your phone to take a selfie with you. "There. Post that online. You wanna know a secret? Yuta’s the most possessive asshole. He hardly even let me talk to you when you dated him"

"He cheated, so I mean… I'm not his anymore." You held onto the pink bunny.

"Knowing Yuta? He definitely thinks you're still his." Taeyong scoffed.

You posted the photo on your Instagram, Yuna immediately responding "GET IT GIRL".

Taeyong took your phone again, typing in his phone number. "There, now you can text me instead of paying to chat with me." Taeyong took $20 out of his wallet and gave it to you.

"No, it's okay, I already gave it to you." You squeezed the bunny.

Taeyong shoved the bill at you. "Take it."

"No." You started to walk away.

Taeyong shoved the dollar into your bra. "You're gonna sleep with me anyways, right?"

"I guess so… You act so differently than when you're streaming." You pulled the money out, putting it into your wallet.

Taeyong wrapped his arm around your waist. "I can't always be cute."

~

You ended up spending the whole day with Taeyong, constantly posting photos with each other on your social media.

Yuna texted you. omg im with doyoung and yuta called him PISSED

whatever ur doing is working

You showed Taeyong the texts. “I need to find a way to pay you back, thank you!”

He kissed your cheek. “You will.”

You suddenly felt a cold chill down your spine, realization hitting you. He just wants you to fuck him. 

Taeyong started to play with your hair, a strand wrapped around his finger. "You'll do that, right?"

"Of course… That was always the plan."

Taeyong kissed your lips, his hands on your cheeks. "Good girl."

~

When you woke up the next day, you must've had a hundred messages.

Taeyong

sorry

didnt know this was gonna happen…

Yuna

did you forget taeyong was famous or something??????

girl

1 attachment

theres articles about u now!

You texted Taeyong.

wtf

come to my house.

You texted him your address.

Around an hour later, Taeyong showed up.

"I've never accidentally made someone famous, so I guess these are apology flowers." Taeyong shoved some pink flowers at you, then stepped inside your house. "Your place is pretty nice. Anyways, are we doing this or what?" Taeyong wrapped his arm around your neck, kissing you.

You pushed him away. "I, um actually invited you over to ask what you wanted to do about the whole dating scandal thing…"

"Oh! Right, my apologies." Taeyong nodded, sitting on your couch casually. "Shall we just tell everyone we're dating?"

"Isn't your fan base mostly horny teenage girls? They'll kill me." You folded your arms over your chest, shaking your head furiously.

Taeyong scoffed. "They're already trying to kill you, it'll blow over in like, a week. Plus, Yuta will 100% go insane…" His voice was sing-songy, as if he was teasing you.

You rolled your eyes, standing in front of Taeyong. "Whatever then."

“Anyways, you know why I’m here…” His hands made their way around your thighs.

You scoffed, getting on your knees. Sliding his sweatpants off, spreading his legs, fitting your body between them. 

“Wait…” Taeyong’s precum spilled onto your hand, causing you to lick it up. You licked his tip, then quickly slammed your head down as he groaned.

“Hm?” You hummed on his dick, his length down your throat. 

“Too fast… you’re going too fast…” His hands were in your hair, his lips moaning the prettiest moans you’ve ever heard come out of a man. Wanting to hear how loud he’d get, you only went faster, despite feeling him twitching, his moans desperate. 

He came down your throat after maybe 30 seconds.

“Fuck!” You quickly pulled away, swallowing his cum. “Dude, you need to warn me!” You looked up at his reddened face, sweat dripping down his chin, his eyes basically glazed over.

“Sorry… I’m sorry…” His voice was breaking, shaky. “Sorry, sorry…”

“Shh, it’s okay, Taeyong.” You quickly sat next to Taeyong, hugging him, his head dropping into your neck. “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry…”

“Sorry, sorry…” You pulled away to look at him, his eyes glassy with tears. “I’ve never… been with a girl.” 

~

Follow Up: Baby Don't Like It

[bellysoupset]

omg i have an idea feel free to regard or disregard

what if jonah and angie get into a fight and it’s the first REAL fight they’ve had bc before she was kinda too young to actually engage in any kind of actual fighting.

but it truly throws jonah WAY off his game (cue the nervous stomach) he’s moody and upset and distancing himself from the group.

when leo finally manages to shake the truth from him he kinda breaks down and tells him that he thinks he drover her off and she isn’t gonna want to speak to him anymore.

- 🧝‍♂️

Alright, alright, alright. I was so excited about this request, I changed the order of my WIPs. Basically, you requested exactly what would catapult the Angie&Jonah plot I had been thinking of since last year.

I hope you like it!

-------------------------------

Leo was deep in the throes of sleep, curled up under two different blankets and with JD purring against his stomach. He had never been so comfy.

So when he heard the front door shutting with a loud noise, Leo only groaned and curled his arm tighter around his cat, refusing to deal with whatever issue it was. Somewhere in the recess of his mind, he could hear a whisper fight down the hallway and then Jonah saying, far too loud for how late it was, "I'm not gonna even answer that, Angelina. We'll talk in the morning."

More whispers, so Leo let out a sigh and opened his eyes, refusing to move. JD had crawled inside his hoodie's front pocket, only her head was poking out. He lazily scratched her behind her ear, turning slightly on the bed and rubbing his eye with his opposite hand.

"Don't bother," Angie's voice, louder than Leo expected it. Normally she was incredibly conscious of not bothering others. Leo dizzily reached for his phone, squinting at the clock. 12:30 AM. Terribly late for them to be just arriving, they were only supposed to go out for a movie.

JD meowed, crawling out of her hiding place in his pocket and nuzzling her head against his chin, before jumping from the bed and slipping out of the bedroom the minute Jonah harshly opened the door.

Leo pushed himself up against the pillows, yawning, "what's going on...?"

"Not now," Jonah's voice was like a whip and he shut the door with more force than necessary, marching to the bathroom. He slammed that door shut as well and Leo raised his eyebrows at the display, but didn't bother getting up; By now he knew that trying to get through Jon when he was in such an awful mood was a terrible idea.

Leo stretched, checking his alarm and then stripped down his hoodie, rolling on the bed and pressing his face to the pillow. He was just about to fall back asleep, lullabied by the sound of the shower running, when the bathroom door opened once again, this time much quieter. 

He didn't bother speaking up, hearing Jonah walk around softly in order not to wake him up, changing into his silk pajama pants and then slipping under the blankets.

Leo turned his head in Jonah's direction, then reached out clumsily, grabbing his hand, "Jon?"

"No," Jonah squeezed his hand, before pulling back as if it burned him, "not tonight."

"Jonah-"

"No, Leo," Jon scoffed, turning his back to Leo. He saw the other man's shoulders go up with a deep breath, but they didn't come down, nerves wound up tight.

"Okay," Leo sighed, scooting closer and going to cuddle him, but Jonah flinched away, "Jon-"

"Please, just leave me alone," Jonah groaned, voice all rough and weird. Speaking with a knot in his throat.

Leo pouted, but nodded in the dark, squeezing his boyfriend's bicep, "Goodnight."

He turned back around hugging his pillow and Leo was still awake, nearly an hour later, when he heard Jonah's breathing slow down, finally getting pulled under by exhaustion.

Four out of the five working days of their week, Leo got up first. Since it was Wednesday, he went in at 8:00 AM and was up at 7:00 AM, as usual. Except Jonah wasn't in bed.

The day was already shaping up to be a weird, stressful one.

Leo stumbled into the bathroom, noticing the mirror was fogged up and there was the smell of mint, indicating Jonah wasn't just up and sulking somewhere, but actually ready for his day.

However, when he got out of the bedroom, now finishing up buttoning up his shirt and ready for a tall mug of coffee, there was no sign of Jon... And the guestroom door was open. The bed was made. Angie's toiletries bag was gone from the dresser.

Leo's heart sunk to his stomach and he looked around the kitchen, in search of something. There was a note under his coffee mug, but the handwriting was all round and delicate, nothing like Jon's left leaning, fancy one.

Sorry I didn't say goodbye! Things got weird. Take care. XOXO, Ange.

Fuck.

Leo raised his eyebrows, folding the note and slipping it in his pocket, before running back to the bedroom to retrieve his cellphone and check if there were any messages from Jonah or Angie, but there was nothing. Radio silence.

He called and called, then waited until he was pretty much late for work. However, Jonah didn't pick and neither did Angie, so Leo had no option but to go to his job, concerned out of his mind.

Around 1 PM, when he finally got his lunch break, there was a text message on his phone.

Wicked-Witch-Of-The-West: Call me when you're free. Important.

Leo rolled his eyes at Wendy's matter of fact text, calling as he waited in line for his subway order. It rang only twice before she picked up.

"Hi," she sounded breathless and didn't wait for an answer, "Jon's in a bad shape. Do you want me to drive him home or should I call a cab or can you-"

"Bad shape?" Leo frowned, handing the cashier his credit card and retrieving his sandwich, "meaning?"

"Meaning he's laid out in the doctor's quarters and he's puked twice already. He wanted to keep working but Stewarts kicked his ass and said he should go home instead of spreading germs everywhere..." Wendy hesitated, "he says he's not sick and I think I believe him, but I have no idea what's going and he won't tell me and he sorta yelled at me and I told him to drown in the toilet so now I can't- I mean, I can, I absolutely can drag his ass home, I just-"

"Wendy," Leo interrupted her, snorting at the mental image, "I'm on my way. It's my idiot, I can handle him."

"Right," Wendy didn't sound very sure, but Leo ignored her tone, "should I tell him...?"

"No, just give me clearance to go to the doctor's quarters. I think the security is going to have my head if I barge in again."

"Okay, okay. See you soon."

Wendy hadn't been exaggerating, but Leo also didn't expect anything less after the weird morning it had been so far. Jonah was inside the doctor's quarters, sitting in the little brown couch, his head thrown back as he stared at the ceiling, a hand resting on his stomach as if he was contemplating if he was about to puke again or not.

"You look great," Leo said, unable to keep a vestige of bitterness out of his voice. He wasn't angry at Jonah for completely shutting him out last night and all of this morning, but he wasn't happy about it either.

Jonah grimaced as he saw Leo, "Wendy called you."

"Yep," Leo walked further inside, "let's go home?"

"I'm not sick, I can work-"

"Your supervisor kicked you out, Jonah," Leo rolled his eyes, "and honestly, I wouldn't trust you if I was a patient, you're super pale. Let's go home."

Jonah considered it for a second, not moving a muscle and seeming like he was wondering if he should argue, before his shoulders dropped and he nodded. He got up slowly, an arm still wrapped around his stomach, and went to retrieve his stuff out of his designated locker.

They didn't talk at all until they were outside of the hospital, Wendy waving timidly in their direction as they passed by the office where she was just welcoming an elderly patient.

Jonah all but threw his stuff in the backseat of the car, before sighing heavily and resting his forehead to the cool metal. Leo paused, not entering the driver side.

"Jon?"

A sickly little burp answered him and then Jonah spread his legs apart and ducked his head between his arms, bringing up a thin stream of vomit without even retching. 

It wasn't much, but still he stayed in that weird position, breathing heavily. Leo sighed.

"Aww Jonah," he circled the car, planting a hand in his boyfriend's back and rubbing a wide circle, "baby, whatever it is, I promise you it's not as bad as your head is making it seem. Please talk with me...?"

Jonah shook his head, letting out a strangled noise and Leo groaned, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and carefully side stepping the mess on the ground, "are you done?"

"I don't- I don't know..." Jonah stumbled slightly to the right, "my stomach hurts."

"Wendy said you got sick twice already, you're empty, baby," Leo opened the passenger door and pushed Jonah inside, "c'mon, get in."

Leo's heart was in his throat as he drove them home. Jonah being cranky or sullen wasn't new, but him looking this distraught and refusing to talk about it was.  He planted a hand on his boyfriend’s thigh, squeezing it and rubbing up and down.

"You're freaking me out," Leo admitted quietly, "you and Angie had a fight?"

Jonah nodded, hand clutching his belly and folding in half, until his forehead was resting on the dashboard. Leo moved his hand from Jon's thigh, to his back and sped up a little more.

"What about?"

“I fucked up,” Jonah said in the smallest, most heartbroken tone Leo had heard in a long while. He had heard something like that back when they fought on the side of the road and Leo had accused Jonah of cheating completely out of the blue, ruining his proposal, but this time it was different. It wasn’t just angry and sad or offended, it was… Guilty.

“What happened?” Leo pulled the car into the garage of their building and Jonah let out a groan at the movement, opening his door as soon as the car stopped and gagging fruitlessly, but his body had nothing else to eject.

Leo unbuckled his seatbelt, thanking god his car was so old it didn’t have an alarm for that, and got on his knee on the seat, so he could lean over the handbrake and rub Jonah’s back as he continued to dry heave, his stomach long done with his messy breakdown. 

“Jon?” 

“She- She wanted- I told her no and -” Jonah sat up straight, bringing a shaky hand to wipe the drool from his lips and closing his eyes, chest heaving with effort, “fuck, Leo…”

“Start from the beginning, okay?” Leo leaned in, stroking his cheek with his thumb, “you guys went out for dinner and a movie. What happened?”

“She wants to travel before college starts,” Jonah opened his eyes and finally said in a calm, collected voice that didn’t belong to him, “and she wants me to come along.”

Leo frowned, thumb stopping the stroking motion, confusion washing over him, “I’m sorry, uh… What? This is good, right? Travel where-”

“No,” Jonah shook his head, “it’s three months, Leo. She wants me to tag along for three months-”

“I don’t-”

“I said no,” Jon whispered, pressing a fist to his mouth, muffling an airy, sick burp, “I said no right away and she got upset I didn’t even consider it and then we argued and she said I wasn’t- I wasn’t putting in any effort at all and I told her- I called her childish and then this morning she said she wanted to go home and I drove her to the airport at 6 AM and- Fuck, I messed it all up, I don’t- She hasn’t even called me back-” his chest heaved as another retch tore up and Leo grimaced when this one was productive and Jonah dived once more in order to spit up bile and droll outside his door. 

Leo’s ears were ringing as he managed to put together what was going on. He kept a hand on Jonah’s shoulder as he continued to heave, gasping for hair, his whole face getting that tingly sensation it did before a panic attack. 

He forcefully breathed in through his nose, tightening his grip on Jon, “you said no because of me.”

More coughing and Jonah letting out a whimper. 

Leo’s heart started to hammer away, the ringing getting worse. He felt claustrophobic, suddenly wanting to be out of the car, out of the garage, his own mind… 

“Leo?” Jonah sat up straight once more, all clammy and sweaty, looking gray, his hazel eyes pained, “baby?”

“I-I…” Leo pulled back, raising a hand to keep Jonah from touching him or saying anything, “gimme- give me a minute.”

Jon raised his eyebrows, but nodded, and Leo lowered his forehead to the steering wheel, trying to ground himself. He counted to ten, then backwards, taking slow breaths. It was like a waterfall was muffling all noise. Jonah mumbling something in the far distance, underwater. 

“Why did you say no?” Leo asked, refusing to lift up his head and meet his fiance’s eyes.

Jonah let out a scoff, “she can’t just expect me to uproot my whole life to go in a little backpack trip through europe-” 

“Jon.”

“I just proposed to you,” Jonah’s tone got a whiny sound, “I can’t- You wouldn’t- We have a life.”

Leo forced out a breath, squeezing the steering wheel with all his force, until his knuckles turned white, “you didn’t think I’d agree.”

“I knew you wouldn’t,” Jonah rolled his eyes, then frowned when his answer caused Leo to turn to him fast as a snake, looking visibly angry. 

“You couldn’t have known, you didn’t talk with me-”

“Oh shut up, Leo,”’ Jon rubbed at his chest, making a face, “you throw fits over Wendy, why would I think you’d be alright with me leavi- Leo?” he interrupted himself as the blonde swore and got out of the car, slamming the driver’s door shut. 

Leo folded in half, planting his clammy hands to his knees and trying to breathe. He hated that Jonah was right, he had no reason to think Leo would agree with this, since he had done everything to disprove that notion. Leo squeezed his eyes shut, feeling childish and guilty and horrible…

“Leo?” Jonah had shut the car door and was leaning on the trunk, planting a tentative hand on his elbow, “baby?”

“You didn’t ruin it, I- I did,” Leo gasped, flinching away, “that’s why she didn’t bother saying goodbye-”

“She’s seventeen and being ridiculous,” Jonah scoffed, “I have a life, Leo. A full residency happening, a job, a wedding-”

Leo shook his head, “you’d put these things on hold for her,” he half accused. Not out of bitterness, just certainty. Jonah was the type to know exactly what he wanted, always. The only reason for him to be this distraught, was because he knew he wanted to go and had still said no, not out of his own volition, but-

“You’re spiraling,” Jon stepped closer, or rather stumbled, still unsteady on his feet, but worry overriding everything else, “baby, look at me. You’re freaking out-”

“I’m a jealous, possessive prick and you’re ruining a really nice opportunity with your sister because you’re afraid I’ll lash out,” Leo surmised, glaring at him and daring Jonah to contradict him, “and you’re not even wrong, because I probably would have.”

There was a beat. Jon unable to deny something that was the objective truth and Leo scoffing as he realized the bitter reality of his own words. 

“That’s just fucking great,” the blonde said after a minute, stepping closer and leaning on the trunk as well, shoulder to shoulder with his boyfriend. 

Jon turned his head, then sighed and planted his cheek to Leo’s shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not the one who should be apologizing,” Leo intertwined their fingers, rubbing his thumb over Jon’s engagement ring. It was similar to his own, except instead of having a small baguette diamond in the center, it had a bunch of little gems the thickness ridge, “I’m really, really sorry, Jon.” 

“It’s fine-”

“I think you should go,” Leo squeezed his hand, interrupting him, “I know how much you want to be close with your sister and yeah, the idea is a little- A little silly and you do have the residency, and the hospital-”

“And the wedding,” Jonah stressed, squeezing his hand back and Leo shrugged. 

“The wedding isn’t happening in three months, Jon,” he rolled his eyes, “look, I know it’s not a get up and go decision, but I also know you’re the type of guy who could solve all the other variables. So if the only thing holding you back from agreeing is me, don’t. It’s just three months, baby.”

Jonah let out a little bitter chuckle, “and then I come back and you don’t wanna marry me anymore? No way-”

“Don’t be an idiot, that wouldn’t happen,” Leo scoffed and leaned on his fiance’s side, “I love you. I love you so much… It’s just a trip with your sister, it’s not the end of the world. We can wedding plan from a distance-”

“Have you met me?” Jonah whined and Leo opened a smile, letting out a relieved breath.

“I have, yeah,” he jumped up, sitting on the closed trunk, “I know you’ll want to micromanage everything, but I’m sure you can do that from Europe, right? We haven’t even settled on a date yet...”

Or on anything, really. The proposal had been its own thing and Leo was still basking in the fuzzy sensation he felt whenever he looked at his ring, so they were letting it settle in before deciding on the next move. 

Now it seemed they’d need to make up their minds quicker. 

“Okay,” Jonah said quietly, removing his hand from Leo’s hold and wrapping both arms around his stomach, “I… I think I need to call Angie, then.”

“Let her calm down,” Leo grinned, planting a hand on Jon’s nape and squeezing it, pulling him closer so he could kiss his boyfriend’s temple, “she’s a Banks, she’s got a temper just like you do.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Jonah whined, but instead of pulling away, he fully turned and melted into Leo’s arms, hugging him, “I’m so scared I messed it up, Leo…”

“You didn’t, she’s seventeen,” Leo measured his words. He liked Angie and he’d like for Jonah to go on this trip, but that didn’t change that Angelina’s reaction had been of a teenager. A spoiled teenager at that, but he didn’t want to say that out loud, since Jonah and him came from extremely different realities, “she’ll get over it, I promise.” 

Jon mumbled something that he didn’t quite understand, so Leo squeezed him a little tighter and breathed out, looking around the parking lot. They really should go inside, before one of their fancy neighbors caught them wrapped up on each other like that and complained with the management. 

“We should get married in October,” Jon’s voice was muffled by his shoulder, but Leo heard him clearly. 

“Let’s go inside,” he turned his face, pressing his nose to Jonah’s temple and breathing him in, “and you can brush your teeth and get something in your stomach, then we’ll talk.”

“That’s not a no,” Jonah pointed out, not pulling back at all.

[rintarousgirl]

i wanna be yours -- 7. snap out of it

✦ - Y/N is a small business owner, offering her services not only as a designer but an at-home makeup artist and cosmetic producer as well. She's perfectly content with her small life when she's approached by the manager of the INARIZAKI band, asking for her to fill the position of backstage artist on short notice. Needing the money, and wanting the experience, Y/N agrees. Little does she know of the fatal attraction she will share with the band's lead, Suna Rintarou.

a/n: uh, hoping that this gets y'all back into my good graces. enjoy the little bit of filth you get in this one LMAO, content warning for making out ig?? anyways, please ignore the time at the top of the phone bc im too lazy to block it out. if time is important for texts than there will be a timestamp, or it will be explicitly stated.

8:32PM

You spot Rintarou's car pull up outside of your small apartment building. He remains in the car, but you already know he's looking for you. You stand from the park bench you were sitting on, and head over.

Pulling open the car door, you settle into the passenger seat. His car smells of fresh leather and his cologne, and you find it's a pleasant mix of smells. He looks to you, his hooded eyes dressed in dark black eyeliner. It was clear he'd done it himself, his own hand not nearly as skilled as your own. The thought of him trying to replicate your work in the mirror made you giggle.

"Hey," he greets, tilting his head as he takes in your appearance, "You look very pretty."

You find a small blush making its way onto your cheeks. You'd gone relatively simple, but still dressed up as he had told you to. You'd gone for a forest green silk satin slip dress, and some black strap heels. Your purse rested across your shoulders, filled with a few small cosmetics, your keys, and your phone. Along with some breath mints, just in case.

"You look rather handsome yourself, Rin," you compliment, noting the white blouse and black slacks. His shirt was partially unbuttoned at the top, and he had a silver chain around his neck and some silver rings glinting on his fingers. They were the same ones you'd given him for the concert.

Rintarou lets out a small huff, running a hang through his hair. The rest of the drive is relatively silent, soft music playing through the stereo. After about a ten minute drive, the two of you pull up outside of a very fancy restaurant.

Suddenly, you feel a little self-conscious about your outfit. All the other woman seemed to be more dressed up with you are, some of them having elbow gloves or fur coats. You take in deep breaths to calm your nerves as Rintarou rounds the car and opens the door for you.

"After you," he coos, a teasing smirk on his lips. You take his outstretched hand and close the door behind you. His fingers intertwine with yours, and he lifts the back of your hands to his lips and presses a quick kiss to your skin.

You bite down on your lip, tasting your lip gloss. "I didn't take you as the romantic type," you admit, as the two of you walk in.

"I didn't either. I guess you bring out another side of me," his words are clearly joking, but there's also a twinge of sincerity in his words. It does something to your heart, and you try your best to quell the rushing of your heartbeat in your ears.

Rintarou talks with the waiter, who didn't have much of a reaction to his presence. Either his place was frequented by famous people, or this person just didn't know or cared who he was. Actually, most of the people in here didn't, which you were kind of glad for. You never enjoyed being in the spotlight, that was why you were the behind-the-scenes artist.

The two of you are seated at a more reclusive table, tucked away in one of the corners with dim lighting and a small bouquet of flowers and a few candles between you.

"This is a wonderful place, Rin," you gush, unable to keep from admiring it. The roof was glass, open to the night sky. The moon shined above, providing additional light in the dimly lit room. You could point out a few constellations.

Over dinner, you and Rintarou talk. He tells you more about his mother, the sweet saint of a woman, and a little about his bandmates. Then he asks about you. You tell him about your favorite colors, sports teams, music genres, and more.

"No," he interruptes you, taking your hand from across the table. Both of you had eaten at that point and were just enjoying the atmosphere. "I want to know about you, not what you like."

You stutter, blinking softly. Your lips part slightly, as you think of something to say. "Uh," you say stupidly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Rintarou's lips quirk up a bit.

"Well, I grew up in Tokyo, the Nerima Ward specifically. I attended Fukurodani private academy, and I was the manager of my best friend's volleyball team."

Something lights up in Rintarou's eyes, a hint of something familiar. "Did you play?"

"A little. I had to learn how to set for Bokuto when Akaashi didn't want to...did you used to play?" the question felt a bit stupid. Why would Suna Rintarou, a famous singer/songwriter and near-professional photographer, play? volleyball?

He laughs. "I, uh, I did more than just play. Actually, the whole band played, even Kita. We all went to the same high school, it's kind of how we met each other, y'know? Atsumu was the only one who tried to make a career out of it. When we weren't playing though, we were in Kita's garage learning how to play instruments."

"Woah," you say, not even bothering to hide your shock. It felt so natural. Rintarou had the body of a volleyball player, and you knew Atsumu played and that they had all known each other pre-band. Yet, despite that, it seemed unfathomable to you. "I didn't know any of that."

"Yeah," Rintarou snorts, "it's not exactly the kind of thing they ask in interviews. It isn't hidden knowledge either though, you can look up any old competition video and you'll find all of us."

"Well, that's something to do when I get bored," you remark, resting your head in your hands. Maybe volleyball was how Kuroo got interested in INARIZAKI. Their music wasn't exactly his taste anyway, but he was still involved in the community. He probably knew of them from volleyball which piqued his interest. He was nosey like that.

Eventually, Rintarou pays the bill, and leads you out the door. He checks his watch. It's nearing 10:30, and the city is alive. "Do you have a specific time you need to be back?" he asks you as the two of you climb back in his car.

"No, and I wouldn't mind spending more time with you."

And that's how you find yourself in a lounge with Rintarou, the music blasting as the two of you sip on champagne glasses. He'd managed to snag a seat for the two of you on a loveseat in the lounge. In front of you, sweaty bodies mingled and dance. Laughter, singing, and the sounds of joy filled the air. The sounds of people enjoying themselves.

"Rin?" you begin, turning to him. Your thighs are brushing, and his hand is resting on your knee. His touch is warm against the thin fabric of your dress, and you try not to squirm too much as his thumb rubs small circles into the flesh of your lower thigh.

"Hm?"

"Will you dance with me? Please?" He looks slightly caught off guard, but he blinks at you a few times before shrugging.

"I have two left feet, it wouldn't be the best idea," and yet he stands, setting down his glass as he extends a hand to you. A laugh rips from your chest, and you take his hand happily.

You drag him along with you to the dance floor, nesting the two of you somewhere in the middle. You let yourself free, letting the small amount of alcohol and the euphoria in your system loosen you up as you begin to dance. Rintarou laughs, not as comfortable as you are but enjoying watching you, nonetheless.

A partner song comes on, one of those old fast ones that you have to jump around and use a lot of footwork. You reach for Rintarou, but a hand wrap around your waist and you're being whisked away to dance with a stranger. Rintarou only has a moment before a woman your age is tapping on his shoulder and pulling him in to dance with her.

Despite being with a stranger, you still manage to have fun, twirling and twisting around the floor. Your feet will ache by tomorrow, but it doesn't matter because in this moment you can't think past now.

Looking over the shoulder of the man you're dancing with, you meet Rintarou's sharp gaze, as he stares at you from across the floor. Small breathy giggles erupt from you, which has your partner snickering.

For the rest of the song, you can feel Rintarou's eyes on you, but you know your eyes are on him just as much.

Eventually, you're set free from your partner, as a slower more romantic song begins to play. You stumble across the floor to Rintarou, who was trying to detach himself from the woman he was dancing with previously.

You tap on her shoulder and make a small shoo-ing motion which she understands. She walks off, though not without sending you a dirty look. Scoffing, you turn back to Rintarou.

He's looking at you with heavy, dark, eyes and slowly your giggles die out on your tongue. Rintarou's hand sneaks around your waist, pulling you close till your chests were flush. He was taller than you, and you tried not to cower as he looked down at you.

"Rin?" you whispered softly, but your eyes couldn't stay on his. In fact, your eyes couldn't drift away from his lips.

His thumb rubbed softly at the swell of your hip, before pressing gently on your stomach and drifting up your sides. His touch made you shiver, and you tried to stop the shaking in your hands.

To give you something to hold onto, your fingers slide up his neck into his hair, curling in silky brown locs. He lets out a little grunt when you give a tiny tug, before a grin crawls on his lips.

"Everyone was looking at you while you danced, y'know," he comments, singing it like it was a praise. You shrug, licking your lips.

"I don't care," you say cooly, "unless..,you were looking too?" you knew he was, but it was always fun to tease.

...what were you doing? This wasn't professional by any means, actually, this was incredibly inappropriate. You knew Rintarou's intentions going into this though, shouldn't you face the consequences of your own actions?

It doesn't matter what you think though, because Rintarou's lips are on yours in a matter of seconds and it burns away any thoughts of regret you had.

Anything would be okay, if it meant you could experience this time and time again.

His lips are soft, just as you thought they'd be, and his teeth nip and tug on your lip. You find yourself falling apart in his grasp, your mouth falling open wider to give further access.

Your fingers curl harder in Rintarou's hair, ripping a small gasp from his throat. His head pulls back, displaying his gorgeous pale neck. Clear and unmarked.

You take the moment of separation to your advantage, and kiss along his jawline. Rintarou's eyelashes flutter, and his teeth bite down on his lip. You find that sweet special spot between his jaw and his ear, sucking and biting down onto his skin.

You're more surprised when he lets out a shuddering shaky breath, just a whisp away from being a whimper. Something akin to pride runs through you, and you bite and suck with more fervor.

Rintarou's hands tremble on your sides, and one comes up to uselessly grasp at your arm as if seaking leverage of some sort. After a few minutes of kissing his neck, you let go, taking in a deep breath.

Pulling back, Rintarou watches you with wild eyes. It was amazing to see him so disheveled, and it managed to be a better look than anything you could create for him.

His neck was a variety of lipgloss stains, and small bites, but that specific spot you'd focused on was the best. It was a deep red, and would no doubt be purpling soon. Your lip shape and teeth marks were clear on his pale skin. There was no way he'd be hiding this. No color corrector or concealer could change that.

"C'mon," you say, taking his hand and knocking him out of his stupor, "I should get home."

The drive home is silent again, but you don't pretend to notice the way Rintarou is struggling to keep his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel. "Careful," you'd tease, and enjoy the way his brows would furrow.

As he came to a halt outside of your house, you open the door, partially stepping out when his hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you close.

There's a slight register of pain as your stomach hits the edge of the console, but that's ripped away from you as Rintarou kisses you with a certain ferocity you couldn't match.

He let's you go after a few seconds, laughing at the way you chase his lips.

"Goodbye, Y/N."

And then he's off, leaving you on the sidewalk outside of your apartment building with trembling legs.

Slowly, you pull out your phone.

<- previous | next -> | masterlist

★ - Suna went home and stared at the hickey in the mirror for a good ten minutes.

★ - Kuroo calls you right after and demands all the details. He loves and hates hearing it at the same time.

★ - Suna has still not answered Atsumu's string of texts from the last chapter.

★ - While you were walking in your building, the receptionist tells you that your lipgloss was smudged. Like...really badly.

✦ - Y/N is a small business owner, offering her services not only as a designer but an at-home makeup artist and cosmetic producer as well. She's perfectly content with her small life when she's approached by the manager of the INARIZAKI band, asking for her to fill the position of backstage artist on short notice. Needing the money, and wanting the experience, Y/N agrees. Little does she know of the fatal attraction she will share with the band's lead, Suna Rintarou.

taglist:

@mannaornot \ @gojoscumslut \ @sunarots \ @alienvarmint \ @tojirin \ @tkooooop \ @cheriesdear \ @shotenvinsoot \ @wolffmaiden \ @riiceandsoup \ @thebrownemo \ @vivian-555 \ @effmigentlywithachainsaw \ @rukia-uchiha-98 \ @weird0o0 \ @seiamor \ @rory-cakes \ @blue-violin \ @reveusecherie \ @hellokittylover9 \ @yourlocal-bunny \ @keniza \ @cerberuspuppy1 \ @baramii \ @kirbyscreeper \ @rioiio \ @noideawhothatis \ @ris-krispie

[ameliora-j]

And I've been thinking about the HC with Hotch where you said he'd ask :“who the fuck do you think you’re talking to like that?” when Princess gets an attitude with him and I'm feral okay 😭 what would lead up to that?

oh i am so so glad you asked bc i’ve been HOPING to elaborate

content: mean dom!hotch, sub!fem!reader, choking, spitting, age gap (reader is in their 20’s), 18+ only!

you had been on edge, frustrated all week. with work and grad school assignments on top of that, and you had barely seen aaron lately due to both of your busy schedules. you had a final paper coming up, and you were sitting in his home office writing it up. 50 pages, double spaced, droning on and on and on about the legal analysis of the key goals of the constitution of the united states and how it conflicts with today’s law practices and blah blah blah blah blah.

your head was pounding with a migraine and the words on your paper had become blurred. you were near tears as the burnout was slowly creeping it’s way up your neck and into the back of your head. you took a deep breath, rolled your neck and sighed as you stretched, cracking your back. you heard a gentle tap on the door and then the creaking of the hinges as it opened. “hey, sweetheart? it’s nearly 1am… you almost done?” aaron asks softly as he peeks his head through the door.

“not even close” you mumble, not looking away from your laptop where you were currently restarting the paragraph you were on for the umpteenth time in a row.

he frowns at that, stepping over and gently stroking your hair. “do you want to take a break?” he asks, to which you shake your head. “okay hun, i’ll check back in a while” he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead.

that night, you don’t climb into bed beside him until 3am. his alarm goes off at 5:30, and you wake with him. while he gets ready for work, you go to his home office and start up again on your report. you’re grumpy now, and even more frustrated both due to your lack of sleep.

you don’t mean to.. truly, you don’t. but you take it out on aaron. he calls to you, asking where his things are, as he usually does in the morning, while you call replies back, focusing on your laptop. he’s nearly ready when he pops his head into the door. “hey sweetheart, have you seen my gucci tie?” he prompts gently “the blue silk one that you got me for my last birthday?”

it’s what causes you to snap. it was such a simple question, and you felt so bad about it, but you’re emotions were on high right now. “i don’t fucking know aaron, have you ever considered opening your goddamn eyes and fucking looking for it? i’m not your damn mother nor am i the keeper of your belongings. you’re a big boy, so figure it the fuck out and quit bothering me!” you shout.

aaron is stunned, his eyebrows are raised as he looks at you in both shock and concern. he slowly walks over, his dress shoes clicking against the hardwood as he approaches. he’s silent as he spins the chair so that you’re facing him. you’re ready to snap again, but before you have a chance to make even a sound, his right hand it wrapping tightly around your throat and you’re letting out a quiet moan. “who the fuck do you think you’re talking to like that?” he growls lowly, raising a challenging brow.

all your words die on your tongue and your attitude immediately dissipates as you pout up at him. “i’m sorry daddy…” you whisper quietly, to which he nods.

“there’s my good girl. for a second i was worried i’d have to spank her out of you” he hums. he leans over your body and your mouth opens on instinct, allowing his spit to trail from his mouth and down onto your tongue. “let’s try that again, shall we?” he hums. you’re nodding along dumbly as he speaks, and he smiles at how quickly he was able to turn his smart law student into a dumb, brainless, wordless princess.

“sweetheart…” he begins in that low, taunting voice that never fails to make your thighs clench. “have you seen my gucci tie? the blue silk one that you got me for my last birthday?” he prompts once more with a cocky smile.

“it’s in the toy drawer from the last time you used it to tie me up, sir” you whisper softly. he smiles, still holding your throat as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“thank you pretty girl” he whispers softly. “now,” he hums, reaching behind you, making sure to save your work before he closes his laptop. “i’m going to call my team, and tell them all not to come in until 12. and you’re gonna come with me, and we’re going to go back to sleep, okay?” he whispers.

“but i-“ you begin to argue, but he’s squeezing your throat tighter and you’re moaning.

“it wasn’t a question” he says lowly. it’s the voice that never fails to turn you to mush and make you do whatever he says.

“yes, sir” you whisper, and within seconds you’re standing and allowing aaron to tug you towards the bedroom as he calls the team to let them know they don’t have to come in until later.

don’t worry, he fixes the puddle in your panties before pulling you into his naked chest and letting you fall asleep on top of him ;)

[star-girl69]

I Loved You Like the Sun

a/n: daemyra is a ship that is filled with angst, so of course daemyra x reader will be filled with angst as well. honestly, get ready for the next few chapters bc it gets CRAZY

warnings: swearing, incest, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Twenty Five- Don’t Say You Love Me

—-

You heard your husband and wife talking far later into the night, whispering words about a song, ice and fire, promises of princes. But you are too content in bed, safe between warm bodies.

You know Rhaenyra is still not convinced war is the best option, while Daemon is, and you have just resigned to do whatever your Queen decides. If she asks for your council, you will give it, if she asks for your comfort, your distraction, you will give it.

When you wake, you are still bitter at both yourself and them. The possibility of Daemon still leaving was like a storm cloud over your head. Your own foolishness, hurting Rhaenyra, believing she would send you away, you wake with memories flooding your mind.

You call for her, through the mess of warm bodies and silk sheets, and of course she answers.

You roll onto your other side, staring at her. Hair mussed from sleep, lips dry and cracked, eyes closed and voice rough.

You do nothing but press a kiss to her forehead, seeing her eyes open with amusement.

She barely has time to smile at you before a handmaiden knocks on the door, shouting that it’s time to get ready for the day.

You see Rhaenyra’s face fall, take on that self-blaming, guilty, apathetic look of a Queen. You have never wished more desperately for her to smile.

And she does, weakly, before she sits, leaving you cold and lonely. You turn, seeking warmth in your husband, and he wraps a gentle arm around you as you lay your head on his chest.

Your mood sours when you remember he might leave.

—-

Rhaenyra takes your hand, pulling it to hers. She traces the lines of your palm, and you have to tug your chair closer to properly let her.

The voices of lords fade to the background, and you are no longer planning a war. You are simply with your wife.

You don’t speak, afraid your words will act like knives and shatter the moment.

But it shatters anyway.

“The Lord of the Tides!” A guard calls, and you watch as the heavy wooden doors open. “Lord Corlys Velaryon…” The heavy sound of his cane hitting the floor, reminding you so vividly of your husband. It does truly seem like a lifetime ago. “and his wife, the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.”

You stand with Rhaenyra, frown when she lets your hand fall, watch as Rhaenys and Corlys move slowly down the stairs, your daughters trailing behind them.

You hear Rhaenyra and Lord Corlys exchange pleasantries, but you selfishly move past him and his wife to Baela and Rhaena. They smile when they see you, and you are undeniably proud.

Rhaena presses herself into your waiting arms, and you press your lips to her temple. Baela wraps her arms around you, and you tilt your head to kiss her cheek. You murmur how pretty they look, and they thank you, Baela sending a glance over to Jace as she does so. Your heart swells, but you send them off, and they go to stand beside their betrothed.

Corlys hits his cane to the ground again, much softer, bringing you back to reality.

“Where is Daemon?” The Lord asks, eyes crawling over the room critically.

“There were other concerns which demanded the Prince’s attention.” Rhaenyra says, hands clasped in front of her, ever the perfect diplomat.

“Hm,” Lord Corlys says, glancing at her before stepping forward. His eyes sweep the room again, landing on you. “Lady Targaryen.” He greets, and you let a smile take over your face.

“Lord Corlys,” you nod your head, and he smiles. But it fades as he steps closer to the Painted Table, surveying it.

“Your declared allies?” he asks, getting straight to the point. Rhaenys meets your eyes, and she nods towards you, and you return it, slipping your way past her to be back at Rhaenyra’s side.

“Yes.” Rhaenyra answers, hand brushing your waist briefly as she step forward, a silent demand. You follow her as she comes closer to the Painted Table, to Lord Corlys.

This meeting, you know, is essential. Without the Velaryon’s support, you are lost. Which is why it is best Daemon is not there. For no matter war, he killed Vaemond, and Lord Corlys respects names and blood.

“Too few to win a war for the throne.”

You watch Rhaenyra scramble, ever-so-slightly, something only you could pick up on.

“Well, we would also hope to have the support of Houses Arryn, Baratheon, and Stark.”

“Hope… is the fool’s ally.” You watch as Rhaenyra falters, hesitating and choosing words carefully.

“Both Arryn and Baratheon share blood with my house. But all of them swore oaths to me.”

“As did House Hightower…” he retorts, “if I remember.”

“As did you, Lord Corlys.”

The hall is silent for another moment, until Corlys turns to look upon his grandchildren.

“Your fathers realm… was one of justice and honor. Our houses are bound by common blood and common cause. This Hightower treason cannot stand.” He plants his feet into the ground, spine straightening, eyes meeting Rhaenyra’s. “You have the full support of our fleet and house. Your Grace.” He bows, and you almost feel your heart burst from your chest.

You feel her hand grab yours.

“You honor me, Lord Corlys.” But when you look up at him, he is not looking at your wife. Instead, he looks upon his own. Rhaenyra turns, nodding grateful to Rhaenys. “Princess Rhaenys.” She nods, and you swear you see a smile on her face.

You let out your own sigh of relief. Slowly, but surely, your ranks were swelling and victory was in your sight.

Your feel her hand squeeze yours, the connection of skin hidden beneath layers of skirts. She breaths heavily, nerves overtaking her again before she speaks.

“But, as I said to my bannermen, I made a promise to my father to hold the realm story and united. If war’s first stroke is to fall, it will not be by my hand.”

“You do not mean to act?” He asks, clarifying, and you can tell he is incredulous.

“Taking caution does not mean standing fast. I wish to know who my ally’s are before I send them to war.”

He nods, taking another few steps around the table. Soon, he is only a few feet away from the two of you.

“The consequence of my… near-demise in the Stepstones… is that we know control them.”

You feel Rhaenyra’s sharp intake of breath, feel hope rise in your chest.

“I took care to fully garrison the territory this time. A total blockade of the shipping lanes will be in place in days, if not already. The Triarchy have been routed. The Narrow Sea is ours.”

Rhaenyra raises her head, understanding crossing her features as she turns to you. You smile, hope it is reassuring.

“If we further seal the Gullet, we can cut off all seaborne travel and trade to King’s Landing.” His hand traces over the Painted Table, resting over the city.

“I shall take Meleys and patrol the Gullet myself.” Rhaenys declares, coming forth to the table beside you. She looks at Rhaenyra, a true smile on her face.

“When we drain the Narrow Sea, we can surround King’s Landing. Lay siege to the Red Keep,” one of the lord’s councils. “and force the Greens’ surrender.”

Rhaenyra’s hand falls from yours, but you keep a frown from taking over your face.

“We should near those messages.” Jace interjects. “Dragons can fly faster than ravens and they’re more convincing. Send us.”

Now, you cannot help the frown taking over your face. Rhaenyra pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, and you can truly tell she is considering it.

“Are… are we sure that is… safe?” You ask, fingers winding together nervously, and Jace and Luke meet your gaze from across the table.

“No.” Lord Corlys admits. “But he is right.”

Before you, your children seem strong. Capable. Powerful and unforgettable. You know they could do it. But is it so wrong to not want them to leave?

Rhaenyra turns to you.

“Y/N,” she starts, slowly, “I know you don’t want anyone to leave. But this is not a matter of want, my love. This is a matter of need.”

And you know it is wrong, you know you are being cruel, but you grab her hands with your own. She smiles, looks at your hopefully.

“Let me go.” She drops your hands, disdain taking over her face.

“Out of the question.”

“No, no, Rhaenyra, I want to go. Let me go.” She shots you a glare, turning back to the table.

While it would be nice to be cruel for once, to hold power over them, make your husband and wife know the agony of being left behind, you want to be free. You want to spread your wings, to properly show off Cannibal, to be useful and have purpose.

“Please, Rhaenyra.”

“Your Grace, if I may.” And your eyes flick to Princess Rhaenys, hopeful. “You know quite well what dragon Lady Targaryen rides. In the matter of House Baratheon… The Dragon of the Night might help persuade him.”

She stands, ridged, hands digging into the edge of the Painted Table.

“Fine,” she hisses, some of that apathetic Queen mask falling, the woman you feel in love with resurfacing. “Prince Jacaerys will fly north. First to the Eyrie to see my mother’s cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn, then to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the north.”

“Thank you, Mother. I will not fail.”

You smile at him, hands still nervous, winding together, but you push it aside. You care more for your children then you do yourself. You know traveling to Storm’s End, a place true to its name, will be hard for their smaller dragons.

“Prince Lucerys will fly south to Tarth and Evenfall Hall. I am quite sure of their support already, but I would wish to show them respect.”

She inhales, but doesn’t look at you. Perhaps she cannot find it in herself to. But you look at her. You always look at her.

“Finally, Lady Targaryen will also fly south, to Storm’s End, and treat with Lord Borros. We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore. And… the cost of breaking them.”

—-

The bluffs of Dragonstone are loud with waves crashing, the heavy footsteps of dragons, their loud breaths. But Rhaenyra stands, looking out, unwavering.

She turns as you approach her with your sons. She does not smile. You know this is hard for her.

“It’s been said that as Targaryens, we are closer to gods than to men. And the Iron Throne puts us a touch closer, perhaps. But, if we are the serve the Seven Kingdoms… we must answer to their gods. We do not have to believe what we say, but we must say it regardless. You will swear to me, now, that you will go as messengers. Not warriors.”

A guard brings forth a heavy tome, a book of the Seven you recognize by the seven-pointed star Alicent wore on its cover.

“Swear that you will go as messengers.” It feels wrong to place your hand upon it, but you do. Your sons follow.

“I swear it,” you say, and your boys repeat it. Rhaenyra nods, an absentminded smile ghosting her face.

“Thank you.” She nods, and the book is taken away. “Cregan Stark is… closer to your age than mine. I hope, as men, you can find common interest. The Tarth’s helped your grandsire after his injury. I am quite sure any treating will be easy.”

You turn to Luke. His eyes filled with fear. His joy at being confirmed Lord of the Tides had not lasted long, realization setting in. You know he is scared. But you also know he a brave, sweet boy.

“I will fly with you most of the way,” you soothe, and he nods. “The Tarths will be honored to host a prince of the realm. And his handsome dragon.” He smiles, although it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

Rhaenyra weaves by you, grabbing his hands.

“I expect you will receive a very warm welcome, darling.” Rhaenyra smiles, and he nods once.

“Yes, mother. Your Grace.” She runs a soothing hand down his shoulder, and you wrap a hand around his neck and press a kiss to his hair. “Goodbye, mother.” He says to you, pulling away, and you smile.

She turns to you, as the boys make their way to Vermax and Arrax, you stay behind.

“Borros Baratheon is a proud man. Insufferable. Your welcome will not be as warm, I expect, but the threat of Cannibal will protect you.” She grabs your hand, thumb rubbing your skin, staring deeply into your eyes. “Do not tell me I don’t have to memorize you. I am Queen, and I will look at my wife for as long as I want.” You smile, let her assuage herself, eyes roaming your features. “Alright. Best you go, quick. I expext Daemon has just received my message, and he will stop you.”

“Tell- tell him I love him?” You ask, hating how your eyes fill.

“If he can even look at me,” she jokes. “My love…”

And she presses her lips to yours, and you sink into her, wanting, needing more of her. But she pulls away.

“This is not a goodbye.” She says, forehead pressed to yours, voice tight.

“Nyra, I-”

“Please don’t say you love me.” She whispers, and you see the wet trail of salt fall down her face. You have the urge to lick it off her, like she did to you at your wedding.

“Okay. Okay, I won’t.”

She nods, and hesitates, but pushes you away before she can pull you back in again.

You don’t want to say goodbye. So you smile at her, and she smiles back.

—-

As Cannibal moves beneath you, muscles churning, the sound of wind filling your ears, you cannot resist the urge to look behind you.

There your wife stands, looking out over the bluffs of Dragonstone, unwavering.

—-

taglist:

@wondergal2001 @akiraquote @a-lil-bit-nuts @anginoguera @thatkinkylesgirl1 @stitchattacks @honeypillowsblog @kaloafd @blackhoodlea @softtina @wallace02sblog @tetgod @hotd-fanfic @rxscpctals @iramagnus

[roadkillxd]

uhm.. so.. i was watching burlesque and had a thought 🌝

listen listen, price w a m!reader who’s kind of his boyfriend but kind of not? like a situationship sort of, whenever price is off duty he goes to reader’s club to watch him dance (lingerie included if you’re comfortable) and they always fuck after, but price is starting to develop feelings, he doesn’t say anything bc he thinks reader won’t share the same feelings little does he know reader actually does, so maybe some smut (bottom reader) and some feelings talk fluff ?? 🧎🏽 much thanks 🫶🏽🫶🏽

As someone who's accidentally said I love you during foreplay it's easier than you think. Also, this is the fit I had in mind when writing this (x) (x).

Price x M!Reader ↪ 1863 words — 18+ / SMUT.

Content tags — cis male submissive (burlesque dancer) reader, cis male dominant Price, referenced/implied prostitution, unsafe sex, minor angst, possessive behavior, love confessions, lingerie, burlesque/brothels, penetrative sex, anal sex, and analingus.

Price weaves through the crowd of sweaty and drunken bodies, eyes trailing after you as you leave the stage. Only when you return to that inky blackness behind the curtain does he train his gaze elsewhere, toward the red-lit hall you’ve led him down the last few times. 

The two of you have done this enough times that it’s almost muscle memory at this point, he doesn’t even have to count the doors anymore to find yours, raising a fist to knock.

The first time he’d ever wandered in here, looking for a drink in more ways than one, he was immediately enraptured by your figure moving about the stage, hips swinging so tantalizingly—watching how easily you moved to the music, the cute little lingerie sets you wore each time accentuating every pretty curve and crevice. 

Price was a simple man, and so he usually preferred the simplicity of a strip club to burlesque shows, but the way you performed had him hooked. None of the other dancers could compare to you, and to Price it was no wonder why you were one of the very few that had their own dressing room.

You open the door and Price drinks you in, a short little silk robe wrapped around your frame. He can see the dark red of your stockings and knows you’re still in the little thong and garter belt you had on stage, the thin black harness hugging your chest.

“John,” you breathe, face lighting up. Price doesn’t want to admit the flutter in his heart each time he comes back from work, sometimes months later, and you still remember his name. He thanks his lucky stars it’s one of the most common ones in the world.

“Invite me in?” He asks.

“Vampire,” you laugh, stepping back to allow him entry. He moves into the room and you close the door behind him, locking it. He looks over your vanity, examining the makeup and jewelry scattered about.

You let your robe slide off and move toward him, placing a gentle hand on his arm as you slip between the table and his solid, warm body. His large hands immediately move to your waist, squeezing you.

“Christ,” he murmurs, taking you in again, like he can never get enough.

“Always the first time with you,” you say softly, teasing, “didn’t you see me on stage?”

“It’s so much more stunning this close, love,” the pet name slips out unbidden, and you blush, your own hands trailing up his sides to his chest, massaging at his pecs and earning a soft little grunt before you continue your journey upward to wrap your arms around his neck. 

He’s the first to lean in, pressing his lips to yours. You hum, immediately trying to deepen the kiss, but he doesn’t budge, kissing you slow and sweet. Indulging himself. His brain always gets so fuzzy when he’s with you—always feels so good just touching you. 

You move your head to kiss the corner of his mouth, and his cheek, his jaw, and he tries to chase your lips, making an annoyed little noise that has you smiling.

He moves instead to kiss at your neck, nuzzling against the soft skin there.

“Getting sweet on me, John?” You joke, and Price tenses. Your brow furrows and you move your hands to his arms, rubbing up and down, “hey, hey, I’m just kidding.”

“Funny,” he responds flatly, gripping your chin with his thumb and forefinger before pulling you into a rough kiss, tonguing into your mouth and making you moan wantonly. When he pulls back there's a string of saliva connecting your lips that snaps as he talks, “this what you want?”

His free hand grips your bulge hard through the soft fabric and you yelp, melting into a moan as he squeezes and gropes at you. You hold his offending arm, using him for leverage to rock into his touch. He watches you with intense eyes.

But something is off, his movements jilted, shoulders drawn up tight like he’s holding himself back from something. You pull his arm off of you and the slightest hint of worry crosses his features.

“You’re upset,” you say softly, running your fingers through his short hair. 

“It’s fine,” he grunts, though his eyes flutter shut, leaning into your gentle touch, “I’m fine,” he repeats, like he’s trying to convince more than you.

“You can talk to me.”

“That’s not what this is,” he says darkly, like a sad admittance. 

“It's whatever you want it to be.”

“S’long as I pay enough, right?” he tries to joke, though it falls flat, smile not quite reaching his eyes.

“I’ve never charged you…” your brow furrows, cupping his cheek. His blue eyes seem a little glassy—faded, and they squeeze shut as he speaks.

“You charge the others,” he grumbles, “I know there’s others.”

He’s jealous, you realize. And then, more suddenly, this… thing, between you two. It means more to him than you had thought. You’d considered yourself a passing fancy to him—a warm and wet hole ready and waiting for him whenever he was on leave. 

“Why do you think that is, John? That I charge the others, and not you?” You try, wanting to say what you feel without words.

“Got a great cock, maybe,” he jokes again, and you can’t help the little chuckle that escapes past your lips.

“Okay, yes, you do. But of course that isn’t why—I mean, fuck, John, there’s so many rules I let you break.”

Price looks at you carefully, like he’s searching for the lie—waiting for the punchline to come where he’s the butt of the joke. Why would you care for someone like him? Some older man bound to the military life that only comes around every few months, if that. You deserve so much more from a lover. A partner.

“I like you,” you finally breathe out, that small weight hovering above your chest now.

“More than you should,” Price says, kissing you. 

He’s gentle again, though now with an insistence, one hand tugging at your harness to arch your back, your chest puffed up against his broad torso. 

You don’t need him to admit anything—you know him. Over the year or so you’ve known him, you’ve learned despite how much he can talk, he’s not a man of emotional words. Things like affection are spoken through action—the steady press of his thigh between your legs, the calloused hand thumbing at your perked nipple.

He speaks through action, and pleasure. Your pleasure. 

He hitches his hands under your thighs, hauling you up onto the counter. You gasp at the show of strength, squeezing his shoulders as he lowers to his knees with a grunt, mouthing wetly at your bulge before trailing down, tugging aside the thong—always so obsessed with keeping them on—to lap at your hole.

You cry out, feeling the thick muscle slip into you, licking hungrily at your insides. Price moans against you, moans like he’s the one feeling it, and the vibrations make you shudder, grabbing a fistful of his hair to rock down onto his mouth, trying to take him deeper.

He stretches you open on his tongue so skillfully, his beard scraping so deliciously against your inner thighs. You can’t help but watch as his own hips rock lazily into the air, mindlessly humping like a mutt. It makes your cock spur, what you do to him.

“John,” you moan, tugging at his hair, “fuck me, please.”

He growls against you, eyes rolling back ever so slightly as he trails back up your body. He pushes you to lay down as much as you can on the cramped surface, sucking and nibbling at your nipples as he fumbles with his jeans, pulling his cock free with a relieved groan. 

He straightens to slap his heavy prick against your thighs a few times, stroking himself. The tip is flushed and sticky from precum, the clear fluid dribbling out and down his shaft, slicking the way for his fist. 

He lines himself up with your hole, rubbing the spongy head against you as he leans in, forehead pressed to yours.

“Tell me the rules,” he says, voice low and gravelly. Your head is spinning, so close to being filled and yet he won’t move, freehand firm on your hip to pin you in place.

“W-what?” You stutter out, blinking blearily at him.

“The rules you have. For your clients,” he growls out the last word, that jealousy flaring in him again. It makes you moan, and he moves to suck bruising marks against your throat.

“I–I,” you choke, swallowing, “condoms. Always.”

He bites down on your neck and slides into you, making you cry out as you stretch to accommodate his girth, the wet heat of your insides so snug around his cock as your walls ripple and flex around him.

“What else?” He whispers, hips beginning a slow but steady pace, ever so slowly increasing in speed as he picks up momentum. He captures your lips with his own before you can speak, licking into your mouth and biting down on your lower lip before pulling away to let you talk.

“No kissing,” you breathe, a dazed smile spreading across your face. He smiles back, kissing you again, hungry and ever so insatiable. 

You push at his chest, urging him to lean back so you can tug at the hem of his shirt. He quickly shucks it off, wrapping his strong arms around you to pull you flush to his body.

His hips start to move faster and with more force, balls slapping against your ass with each thrust, cock ramming into you and making you see stars, punching little ‘ah, ah, ah’s out of you with each movement. 

He trails his lips up your neck, breathing in your scent, taking in everything he can through every sense he has, trying to burn it into his memory like he hasn’t vividly relived everyone of these nights any chance he can get with a hand fisting his cock.

“I love you,” he gushes, the words out of his mouth before he can think, and he keeps saying it, over and over like a prayer, squeezing you so tight against him as he pants against your heated skin.

“Fuck, oh fuck, John m’gonna—” you cry out, back arching, baring down on him as your cock swells and kicks within your thong, cum spurting against the tight fabric. 

Price groans at the vice grip around his dick, having to slow his movements in fear of tearing you with how tight you're clenching down around him. The spasm of your walls milk him, squeezing at the sensitive tip and making him gasp as he suddenly cums, balls drawing up tight as he fills you with his load, hips rutting, stuttering into you.

He shakes ever so gently with the aftershocks, face still hidden against your shoulder as he continues to inhale your intoxicating scent, hands mindlessly smoothing up and down your back as you in turn pet through his hair and at the base of his scalp.

“I love you, too.”

[mypoisonedvine]

soft sleepy sex with our favorite brucie? 🥺 I just know that shit slaps

I'm 80% sure you're talking about bruce wayne but it gets tricky bc I write bruce banner too lmaooooo

but yes I agree it would be the bessttt! nsfw under the cut obviously! (still pretty wholesome tho just slightly free use kink, morning sex and emotional/intimate sex)

there were so many nights where he came home far too tired to do anything but collapse in bed beside you. you were lucky if he got all of his elaborate armor off first; there were times where you woke up to him passed-out, half-bat, next to you in the bed. it always made you smile.

but waking up like this, with his lips on your neck and his hands on your hips, always made you gasp softly. because some nights, after coming home and maybe getting an hour or two of sleep just before dawn, he needed to feel you-- feel something. and you always told him he was free to take whatever he needed from you; he knew you'd stop him if you didn't want it, and you never did. sometimes he just needed to feel good in some basic, primal way. a lot of the things that brought joy, peace, or pleasure to normal people didn't work for bruce... he'd trained himself to be free of almost all attachments and desires. but some things run too deep to be forgotten.

"bruce," you whispered into the empty air of the room, still dark but starting to glow that orangey-grey of the early morning. he whispered your name back to you, saying it like it was the most sacred prayer, and you couldn't fight the shiver that ran over your skin.

you felt the heat of him pressing against you, calloused hands starting to spread your legs. you nodded slightly against the silk pillow, gasping louder when he filled you-- slow and patient, taking time to let you adjust. you squeezed his hand when it was okay to move, even though you still winced from the slightest sting. it was worth it, though, to hear him let out a sigh of relief, so deep it must have come straight from his soul. both of you relaxed and sank into the bed, sank into each other, and he moved with no rush and no hunger and no force, just gently rocking you with each thrust and filling you until there was nothing left.

sometimes it started like this and ended up fast and needy and sweaty, panting into each other's mouths, feeling his teeth leave marks over your neck and shoulders... not today. today he never sped up, never whispered filth in your ear; he just held you, and let your body soothe him until you both found a slow, gentle peak of your pleasure together. it was unexpectedly beautiful, impossible to measure in time as you were sort of left between wakefulness and sleep the whole way through; half-dreaming, even.

he didn't pull out after he'd filled you, he simply laid down fully again and pulled your back into his chest. you lifted his hand to your lips to kiss it before relaxing back into sleep again yourself; you hoped he felt as safe as you did, as whole. inside you, surrounded by you, head filled with the scent of you and arms embracing you-- this was the only way he slept dreamlessly, no nightmares, no memories, no pain. that was what was so amazing to him: you didn't just help him when he was awake, but even asleep you soothed his soul. and bruce needed that more than anything, so he held you close with no intention to ever let you go.

[moonchildstyles]

alright im back to elaborate on this even more because i also cannot stop thinking about it

h sitting on the edge of his bed while pretty girl is getting ready for a birthday party they’re attending for one of her friends and she has her hair all done and she’s finishing up her makeup but she hasn’t gotten dressed yet and she’s in a little pink silky slip she slept in and she’s leaning into the mirror to get her eyeliner straight, her hips pressing into the counter and lifting onto her toes and she’s so unaware but h is watching her through the doorway of his ensuite and he’s just fiddling with his bottom lip and the nightie rises up on her thighs when she leans forward and he just can’t sit there and wait for her anymore because she looks so pretty and he’s getting up and just smiling when they meet eyes in the mirror and he puts his hands on the counter on either side of her hips and kissing the back of her head before she leans back and checks if her eyes are even and she asks h who just nods, curling his hands over her waist and stomach just feeling the silk and he can smell the sweet scent of her perfume she sprayed before she did her makeup because she never wants it to be too much and lets it settle while she gets ready and she promises him she’s almost finished she just needs to do her lashes and lips and he’s just giving her gentle touches down the front of her thighs and humming in acknowledgement as she talks and her voice starts to falter when he grips her inner thighs and pulls her closer to him, feeling him pressing into her bum and there isn’t much talking but like you said he’s just bending her over the counter and pushing up the silk to her waist, not wasting any time because they don’t want to be super late to the party and she’s just gasping little breathy moans and reaching back to fist Harry’s shirt in her hand and he’s still just touching her, dragging his hand up the silk on her back and the ends of her hair and when she tilts her head back, he catches a glimpse of her reflection and he’s just… fuck because she always looks pretty on his cock but all done up in her pretty party makeup with fresh glittery highlight sitting on her cheekbones and her hair all styled and smelling good with her products and her eyes are closed but he’s immediately leaning over her and wrapping his arm around her front, palming up the centre of her chest and gliding up her throat to gently grasp her chin and tilt her head down to the mirror and she’s opening her eyes without request, her eyes immediately finding his but he’s mumbling for her to look at herself because “look how gorgeous you are getting fucked right now, you pretty thing,” and she’s crumbling under his touch and his nose nudges against her temple and asking if she feels good and he keeps his hand resting under her chin until she’s shaking in his arms and he’s burying his nose in her hair as they both finish within seconds of one another and he just slips out and kneels down to clean her up 😌 and that’s what makes them late - 🍓

I literally feel like im going to LOSE MY MIND!!!!!! bc thats exactly what I was seeing like shes got all of her makeup on and shes almost ready he's just been lounging around waiting for her but he can't help but watch as she leans over the counter and checks her lashes or her powder or whatever she's doing then and her pajamas riding up and he KNOWS she has nothing on under it bc he can see her panties lying on the floor over there so its just.....Something but omg him just getting impatient and going in there all quiet and watching her matching her smile in the mirror and nodding when she asks if her lashes look good or if her liner looks right like and hes just touching over her all gently pulling up her nighty and touching her thighs and pushing her hair off her neck and just.....being so hot and she knows somethings going on when he presses into he and she can feel how hard he is but its not a hint until he puts his hand on the center of her back when shesdoing her lipgloss and pushes her to be bent over the counter and hes pushing her dress up and its just......then hes fucking her with his hands on her hips and shes doing those little 'uh' noises every time he pushes in and hes so lost in it and just touching feeling and holding her and when he finally peeks his eyes open he get to see her and her eyes are closed and skin warm, lips all glossy w her pretty makeup on and she looks like a little beauty queen anand while her hair still looks good with every stroke some of her hairs come loose and shes just so pretty but he can see the effect of him on her and omg the detail of him smelling her perfume that shes been soaking in while getting ready so its just There and omg shes just so pretty its not fair for her to not see herself like this and omg him pushing his hand over her body and chest and feeling her heart until its around her neck with his fingers touching at her chin to get her to pay attention and when she blinks her eyes open theyre still hooded and literally soooooo stuck on "look how gorgeous you are getting fucked, pretty thing" literally going to send me to THERAPY over that line omg but thats all it takes to get them cumming with each other and hes ofc the caring lover through and through and since he just took her in the middle of her getting ready he knows he needs to make it up to her some so shes still facing the mirror when hes getting on his knees and cleaning her up from behind and just........yeah....they are late but I love them so its okay