#that this article has it’s finger on the pulse on

[peachiejeongin]

Mind-Numbing Melody | Bang Chan

Synopsis: Chan has been unmotivated lately when it comes to producing; however, he comes across a melodic idea that he just cannot resist. He just needs your help to fulfill it.

Pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, Slight Fluff

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (18+ Recommended), dom!Bang Chan, sub!reader, pet names (pretty girl, darling, good girl, etc.), biting, marking, fingering, slight edging, teasing, begging, unprotective penetrative sex (please use protection), Chan uses reader's moans in a song

Notice: Hello, my darlings! I know it has been weeks since the release of SKZHOP, but Railway has been driving me absolutely bonkers, so enjoy this fiction I wrote when I discovered you could hear Chan moaning in the background of the song :,D

Divider By: @anitalenia

Smut under the cut!

The studio was steeped in a familiar glow, its dim lighting wrapping around stacks of forgotten notes, tangled cords, and empty coffee cups that lined the console like weary sentinels. Chan hunched over the keyboard, fingers tapping an irregular, impatient rhythm. It had been days, weeks even, of this same cycle—blank stares at a blank screen, fleeting sparks of inspiration that fizzled out as quickly as they arrived.

The room smelled faintly of espresso and something sharper, a sort of musk as if Chan's frustration was materializing into a smell. The scent was Chan's constant companion these days, a reminder that no matter how hard he pushed, the music would remain just out of reach.

You watched him from the warm leather couch in the corner, your legs curled beneath you as your phone rested forgotten on your lap. He was quiet, but not in the comforting way he usually was. This silence was heavy, nearly oppressive.

"You're going to burn a hole into that screen," you finally said, your voice teasing but soft, careful not to break him entirely out of whatever fragile trance he was in.

Chan glanced over his shoulder at you, a faint, tired smile curving his lips upwards in a manner that did not quite reach his eyes.

"Maybe I can burn some inspiration into it," he murmured, turning back to the keyboard. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that let you know how sore it was from hours of tensing.

He absentmindedly clicked through the tabs open on his browser, hoping something would reignite his motivation. A playlist was open on his monitor, softly blaring tracks from artists he admired; most of them were songs that sparked awe and envy in an equal measure. But it was the headline of an article on trends in modern music that caught his eyes, words he had previously skimmed earlier in the day: "Personal Touch: The Rise of Intimacy in Music Production."

He had not thought much of it at the time, dismissing it as another gimmick. Now, in the late-night haze of desperation and coffee-stained reality, the concept felt like a thread to cling to. The idea of creating something raw, something undeniably intimate, grew in his mind. When he looked at you, lounging on that couch as if you were a calm in the storm, an idea began to crystalize.

You caught his gaze, brows furrowing slightly in concern as you noticed the shift in his expression—an intense focus, almost predatory, like he had just discovered something precious.

"What?" you asked, nerves and curiosity blending in your tone.

Chan stood slowly, the chair rolling back with a low creak. When he crossed the room, every step deliberate, your heart began to beat just a bit faster. He dropped to one knee in front of you, the studio's ambient light casting shadows against the defined angles of his jawline. His fingers found your thighs, resting there lightly at first, then gripping just enough to make your pulse quicken.

"I need your help," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through you.

"With what, my love?" You tilted your head, trying to read the intent behind his lustful, dark eyes.

"There's this idea I have," he began, thumb absently stroking the fabric of your sweatpants. "I read this article—something about artists using intimate sounds from their partners in songs. Breaths, moans, everything. I can't stop thinking about how you would sound in one of my songs." His gaze dropped to where his fingers rested against your thighs, almost reverent in a way.

"Your voice, the way you sound when it's just us...I think it could be the spark I'm missing."

Your breath caught in your throat. The idea was audacious, bordering on the verge of scandalous, yet it held an allure you could not deny. You imagined it— your moans hidden between beats and chords only you could notice.

"You're serious?" you questioned, voice barely reaching above a whisper. Chan nodded, his eyes meeting yours with a certain vulnerability that made your heart clench.

"I've been so stuck, but the thought of creating something with you that's so raw and real...it just feels right."

You swallowed, the weight of his request pressing down on you in the best possible way. The trust, the intimacy—it was more than you had ever imagined sharing with Chan, moreso the audience that would be tuning into the song.

"Okay," you agreed softly, the word containing every ounce of trust and anticipation you felt.

Chan's lips curved into a slow, sincere smile, and he leaned foreward to press a kiss against your forehead. It was warm, lingering, a promise as much as it was a kiss.

"You have no idea how much this means to me," he mumbled as he pulled away.

Before you could reply, he captured your lips with his, a kiss that was at first gentle, exploratory; it then deepened into something that made the studio air feel heavy, electric. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as you melted into him, a symphony in the making.

This kiss grew hungrier, if that was possible, your hands tangling roughly into Chan's hair as he remained steady on your thighs. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and the soft gasp it elicited made him groan against your mouth.

"Just like that, pretty girl," he whispered, his voice hoarse as his lips brushed against yours.

Chan pulled away from you briefly, striding to his computer and clicking open an audio-recording tab; the faint glow of the monitor casted a faint shadow on the walls. You repositioned yourself as he opened the taper, falling back onto the cushions; he made his way back over to you, climbing over top of you on the couch, his hands tracing an agonizingly slow path up your sides.

Every movement and every touch was unhurried, deliberate as though he was tuning you, finding the exact pitch that made you hum beneath his touch. His fingers danced over your skin, like he was learning the contours of an instrument. The press of his lips ignited sparks at every point of contact.

"Channie," you whispered as you intertwined one of his warm hands with yours; he stroked your cheek gently, smiling ever so lovingly at you.

"Relax for me," he purred before nipping his teeth at your neck ever so slightly. The motion caused you to shiver, your breath hitching in your throat as his lips travel from your neck slowly to your chest. There, he sucked small markings into your skin until purple and red adorned your chest. Welts became present due to his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before Chan moved to fiddle with the hem of your top.

"Are you alright with taking this further?" Chan questioned, assuring that he had your full consent before going farther.

"Yes," you breathed out, the words nearly getting stuck in your throat; your gaze flickers to the computer screen, watching as the speakers picked up each noise, the audio receptor's lines expanding with each recipient.

With your approval, Chan stripped you of your top, agonizingly slow albeit, his fingers moving their way to the clasp of your bra. He managed to undo the latch in one, swift motion, and before giving you time to think, his lips wrapped around your nipple.

You moaned as the warmth from his mouth and the wetness of his tongue sucked, kissed, and bit at your nipple, his tongue gliding over the sensitive region. His hands caressed your hips slowly before the right one moved up to attend to the neglected breast; his fingers rolled the bud, pinching, flicking and eliciting beautiful sounds from you.

"Don't hold back" Chan breathed out. "I want to hear everything."

At this point, your body was burning, both from Chan's actions and from the awareness that this was all going to be on tape; you felt a coating of arousal pool up at your core, causing you to rub your clothed thighs together in attempts to gain some sort of friction. Chan noticed the action almost instantly, grinding his hips slightly into yours; you sighed almost out of relief as you felt his own arousal poking through the black fabric of his loose shorts.

Chan lifts off of you, his hands reaching for the bottom of his hoodie; however, you stopped him, your hands mirroring his actions. You wanted to strip him, wanted to be the one to revel in revealing his perfection. Chan sighed out of contenment as you lifted the sweatshirt over his head, messing up his hair in the process and discarding the article somewhere on the studio floor.

Ridding the hoodie revealed a toned torso, with glimmering, slightly-tanned abs sparkling in the glow of the studio. You instinctually moved your hands to lay upon his chest, just as you had done so many times before, sliding your palms down his body smoothly and causing him to shiver. He positioned his body back above you, leaning over your smaller frame.

"Let me take care of you, Love," he lightly growled out as he moved his hands down to hook under the waistband of your pants, flicking his gaze to meet yours for approval. You nodded repeatedly, causing Chan to giggle as he slid your pants and underwear down, throwing the clothing alongside his hoodie.

He relished at your arousal, his eyes looking blown out before any sexual act had been committed.

"Look at you, Darling," he whispered, sliding a fingers through your wetness and causing you to whine. "Always so pretty for me."

Before you could comprehend his words, your mind increasingly numbing at his actions, Chan inserted his pointer fingers, pumping the digit in and out of you slowly. The contact elicited a string of hearty, genuine moans from you; admittedly, you were louder than you usually were during sex. You were not sure if it was because of the arousal of being recorded or if you just felt particularly frustrated that day.

Whatever it was, the sounds escaping you were particularly tumultuous, and Chan thought the octave was perfect for what he wanted to accomplish.

Chan inserted his middle finger minutes after his first digit, his pace quickening along with the speed of your whines. He maneuvered his hands, reaching to where his thumb could brush against your clit and allowing you to feel as if you were on cloud nine. You repeatedly clenched around him, feeling your orgasm creeping up on you slowly but surely; however, Chan removed his fingers before you could reach the finish line, which earned a loud, aggravated whine from you.

"Channie!" you groaned, your pussy clenching around nothing as you bucked your hips up instinctively, attempting to receive any type of contact, even the slightest motion, that would bring you to your end.

"Why?"

"Adds an element of fun," Chan responded, his lips quirked into a smug smirk, "both to the music and to our little moments."

"I can't wait anymore, Chan," you whimpered out in response, making your boyfriend tsk at you appraisingly before he slid off his own bottoms.

He quickly lined his cock up with your entrance, rubbing through your folds teasingly; he complimented the prior action poking at the hole.

"Are you ready, Darling?" he questioned.

"Yes!" you yelped out, positioning your legs to wrap around Chan's torso.

"Beg for it, then," he commanded, causing your eyes to widen and your cheeks to flush from embarassment.

"This wasn't apart of the plan," you quietly mewled as Chan halted his teasing motions.

"Mm, maybe not, but I know what gets a reaction out of you," Chan admitted leaning down to whisper in your ear, his hot breath fanning your ears. "I gotta make sure this melody encapsulates as much of your perfection as possible. So, baby girl, if you want the same thing, I suggest you get to begging."

You let out an annoyed huff, your lips pursing into a sheepish pout as you reluctantly did as demanded of you.

"Please, Channie," you pleaded, your arms gripping his shoulders. "I need you so bad please. Please, please, please, baby." Chan chuckled lightly at your beseeching as he placed his hands on either side of your face.

"Good girl," he praised gently.

With that, he gently pushed himself inside of you. You both gasped at the feeling; Chan's length filled you completely, causing you to tingle with excitement as the familiar stretch swiftly morphed from pain into pleasure.

You gave Chan the go-ahead to move, and he held your hips tightly as he thrusted in and out of you; his lips parted, making their way to kiss and nip at your skin, the tips of his canines lightly poking you.

"You always feel so amazing, my love," he moaned out; you simply sighed in pleasure, clenching yourself around him as you melted into his stature. Rushes of pleasure shot throughout your body as Chan tighlty gripped onto your hips, his nails causing indents in your flesh.

The knot tightening in your stomach returns throughout Chan's thrusts, and you are unable to comprehend the sudden change in his demeanor from gentle to hazy. All you know is that it feels good and that you are losing yourself within his darkened gaze.

"Chan, oh my," you moan out, your voice high pitched and hoarse.

"You like that, Darling?" Chan questions as your noises pick up in pace. "Keep moaning for me. You're doing so well."

"'M close," you whimper out, holding onto Chan for dear life. Chan mandhandles your body upwards, still holding onto you in the new positions and burying his head in the crook of your neck.

"Cum for me then, Love," he commands; as soon as he gives the approval , your orgasm hits. Your brain becomes like mush, and your eyes flutter shut as the pleasure rocks through you.

You feel Chan halt in his movements and he slowly pulls out of you, allowing himself to finish on your stomach before laying beside you.

"Still with me?" he questions, pulling you into his arms.

"Mhm," you mumble, just barely able to hear his words. You feel tired all of a sudden, tangling your hands in Chan's hair, albeit much lighter this time.

"You did so good, Baby," Chan praised, holding you tightly against him. "Wait until you hear how beautiful you sound."

A week had passed since that night in the studio. You had not been allowed to hear the song yet, as Chan insisted it was, "not ready." His process was meticulous, almost obsessive, and though your curiosity burned, you let him do his thing.

Now, you were back in the studio, perched on the same couch where it had all happened. Chan stood by the mixing console, his headphones draped around his neck, a spark of nervous energy buzzing in his movements.

“It’s done,” he said, running a tired hand through his hair.

You shifted in your seat, heart thudding with anticipation.

“You’re making it sound like I should be scared,” you teased, though the slight tremble in your words told him part of you was nervous.

He shot you a lopsided grin, approaching you and sitting beside you on the couch. Strangely, there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

“You don’t have to listen if you’re not ready," he explained, his tone laced with a sense of reluctance. "It’s...intimate.” The way his voice dipped sensually on the last word made your pulse quicken and you instantly shook your head.

“No, I want to hear it,” you declined his offer, your words uttered softly. "Play it, please."

He nodded, a faint smile present as he slid his headphones over your ears and pressed play on the monitor. The room went silent, save for the faint hum of the equipment. As the first notes filled your ears, everything else slowly faded away.

The song started softly; it was a deep, pulsing rhythm that felt like a heartbeat, layered with delicate chords that swept over you like a whisper. Then, beneath the music, you heard it.

You.

It was a faint gasp, so quiet it almost blended into the background vocals, followed by the softest of moans mixed into the melody. The sounds sent a rush of heat to your cheeks as your mind flashed back to that night, to Chan’s hands, his lips, and the way he had coaxed those very sounds from you.

Your breath caught as the track built, the sensual undertones unmistakable. Every layer of the song felt personal, your breaths and your voice intertwined with the raw intensity of Chan's production. It was not overtly explicit, but the sensuality was undeniable, a secret language only the two of you could speak woven into the music.

When the track ended, you pulled the headphones off and stared at him, your mouth slightly agape.

“Chan...” You didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or throw the headphones at him. “That’s me.”

His lips twitched into a smirk, though his eyes searched yours for any sign of disapproval.

“It’s us,” he corrected. “I wanted it to feel sincere, like it replicated us to a tee.”

Your cheeks burned, contrasting the thrill that coursed through your veins. Chan scooted closer, leaning in front of you so his face was mere inches away from yours.

“You’re my muse,” he told you simply. “Every sound, every breath—it’s you. You inspire me.”

You shook your head, laughing softly.

“If people hear this-”

“They won’t know it’s you, if they even notice it's there,” he reassured, his voice gentle. “It’s subtle. Just for us.”

Your lips parted, still processing, but before you could say anything else, he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin.

"You don't hate it, do you?"

“Hate it?” you echoed, shaking your head on denial. “I could never hate anything you create. The song is absolutely beautiful. It’s just...”

“Just?”

“...Really hot,” you admitted, biting your lip.

A deep laugh rumbled from his chest, and he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because it’s the most personal thing I’ve ever made, and I want it to be for you as much as it is for me or for the fans.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“Well,” you began, your voice dropping to a playful whisper, “if you ever need more inspiration..” Your voice trailed off as your fiddled with the chain of his necklace, your forehead still pressed gently against his. Chan grinned, his fingers tightening on your waist.

“Don’t tempt me, y/n.”

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght, @amararosesblog (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)

[barbituratecongestion]

“[…] According to my colleague Bilge Ebiri, the same thing happened at the film’s premiere at the Venice Film Festival: “Wild applause, screaming.” It’s the kind of interlude that does make you want to cheer from the sheer delight of it, and when Hit Man plays at the New York Film Festival in a few weeks, chances are good it’ll get a similar reaction. By then, though, it’s bound to feel bittersweet. Netflix recently bought the film for a hefty $20 million, meaning that, while it will probably get one of those pro forma theatrical releases the streaming giant gives to its artier titles, the vast majority of people won’t hear about its existence until it’s an option on the home screen and will watch it in their living rooms instead of with a crowd. You can still applaud while alone on your sofa, I guess, but why would you?”

[thehauntedetheral]

Yan Husband x Pregnant Reader ~

Requests are open!

• You and your husband has been married for 3 years and you have a happy marriage that your life couldn't get any better

• Until one day you realise your period has been late a few weeks. You take a pregnancy test and found out you guys are gonna become parents.

• You told yan about your pregnancy and now you are the happiest couple in world. You always thought yan husband is very protective? Well get ready darling because this man is gonna get double protective and stress out about every single thing till the baby is born.

• Yan Husband who hires the most famous, experienced and expensive gynecologist in city.

• Buys every pregnancy book available and remembers every single thing mentioned in it

• Food cravings? My love he would go buy anything even at middle of night. But you wanted from that specific shop? Well then he is going to make owner open the shop and make food for you at the middle of night no in between.

• Makes the most nutritious breakfast, lunch, dinner by himself. Makes you eat fruits, homemade smoothies that even professional fitness coaches plan is colourless compared to his.

• Reads so many pregnancy articles, cases and watches video. The only thing remaining now is getting a medical degree which he thinks upon to get just in case which you have to put a stop on.

• Constantly checking your blood pressure, sugar levels, pulse that he has become personal doctor of yours.

• Going with you on walks, doing yoga together.

• Buys all the baby stuff with the most safety guarantee even if the price is ridiculous. When it comes to you and baby nothing is expensive.

• Takes leave from work or work from home throughout your pregnancy. Won't let you go out of his sight.

• Won't even let you lift a finger and you are thinking about continuing job? THAT'S JUST STRAIGHT UP NO.

• Baby proofs that whole house. Always looking up at nutritious recipes for pregnant ladies on internet.

• Buys everything that he finds adorable and spending unnecessarily very high that you have to sit him down and explain the budget but still doesn't listen.

• Wants Baby to look like you because you are the most beautiful person in this world for him.

• Attends every doctor's appointment with you like a ritual and bores doctor to death with his constant questions about your pregnancy. Don't be surprised if you find him talking to doctor and asking a question at two in night.

• Talks and kisses to your baby bump everyday and mostly talk about you to baby telling how much lucky he is to have you and how much he loves you both.

• Has multiple panick attacks through out your pregnancy just thinking about you and baby's safety.

• When your water broke and the contraction begins he is just a centimetre away from having a heart attack.

• When you are under going labour threatens doctor that if anything happens to you or the baby the doctor will become a dead body.

Requests are open!

Read more yandere fics:

[twice-in-a-blue-moon]

when solomon has sex with you for the first time, he makes sure to absolutely worship your body. during the first kiss scene with him, he said he's been waiting for a chance to do it. so with this, he's going to make sure his patience will pay off. not an inch of your skin will be unloved by him. it may have taken so long, but the end result will be perfect as the two of you are satisfied, love growing by the second

(Ooh, thank you for the food, anon!! Solomon's first kiss scene will forever have my heart) Reader is GN! :)

Minors DNI!

"Why don't you come just a little closer?"

You shift a little closer until there's no space between you two on the bed, and his lips are back on yours. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, softly rubbing his thumb along to solidify in his mind that you are here and that this is happening.

Somehow, miraculously, he finally got you alone...and you want him too.

Though he fears he'll get too eager and move too fast for your liking, leading to crossing a boundary or scaring you away. So, he's careful, treating you as if you were glass, slow to do anything more than kiss you like this. Truthfully, he could just do this all night and he'd still be over the moon. But he can't deny in his heart the need for more.

His hand on your jaw slowly slides down your neck, simply letting his fingertips brush against the sensitive skin. It's warm, and he can feel your pulse thrumming just beneath. He wonders how it would feel against his lips.

Solomon reluctantly pulls away from your lips, leaning down to instead kiss along the column of your neck. It elicits a soft gasp, and he feels giddy that he can get such a cute response from you. It only serves him to want to hear more. A secondary motive.

With each article of clothing he removes from your body, he falls deeper in love as he sees his person bared completely to him. It signifies the trust you've built together. And he'll do everything to never lose it - a promise he quietly makes to himself.

From your neck, he lavishes kisses along your collarbones, down both of your arms, your shallowly rising and falling chest, your soft stomach, all the way down to your naval. Any further is iffy territory and he wants explicit permission before he does anything more.

Through a husky tone, he asks, "is this okay? Can I continue?"

Your approval and reassurance are resounding. The weight of worry eases a little, but he's still tentative to continue. He wants you to feel good. He wants this first time with you to be perfect. He can't help it, he's an ancient sorcerer in love for the first time in a very long time...if ever.

So, slowly, he ventures onward to where he sees the obvious impact he's had on you tonight. His talented silver tongue makes you squirm on the bed, your hands tangling in his soft locks as his name tumbles out of your mouth like a prayer. The taste of your sweet arousal is something he fears he could get addicted to.

Solomon can feel his own arousal growing past anything he's ever experienced before. He didn't know he had the capacity to feel so needy for someone else. Good lord, just what are you doing to him?

Once he feels he's prepped and pleasured you enough with his tongue and dexterous fingers, he pulls away to finally undress and bare himself to you. His eyes shift away nervously as he feels you studying his body now. He knows his skin is marred from centuries of living; the countless pact marks, scars he doesn't remember the stories of, and burns from experiments gone wrong. He's never felt self-conscious like this before, but it's another product of what you do to him.

When you sit up on the bed, crawling to him to brush your fingers along his skin, it takes his breath away. You aren't afraid to explore him. Tracing his pact marks, kissing his imperfections, never once showing disgust like he might've thought.

No, only care.

Solomon gently chases you back down onto the bed, crawling over your excited form with smiles and giggles exchanged in the otherwise quiet room. Once again, he gets your staunch permission before continuing. And once again, you reassure him that this is what you want. Any lingering doubt subsides, and with that, he lines himself up with your entrance and slowly slides in, letting you adjust once he's fully settled within you.

"D-Deus meus..."

His forehead rests against yours as his breathing turns ragged, reveling in how goddamn good you feel around him. It takes all of him to be patient, but he waits for your signal, and once he has it, he doesn't hesitate to start moving.

His hips snap against yours in deep, measured thrusts. Passionate kisses are shared, soft moans and grunts fill your ears, and his hands never once stop exploring your body. The love he gave it earlier wasn't nearly enough.

There's no rush. It's not frantic - it's not even desperate. It's slow and intimate as he guarantees you both feel good in this one moment of solitude.

Solomon isn't even thinking about afterwards or what those brothers might say. He's fully entranced by you. He makes love to you as if it's the last time he ever will.

Soon he brings you both to a mind-shattering orgasm. His body shudders above yours as he buries his face in your neck. The way you clench around him makes him consider asking for a second round. Though, he wants to take a break more - to love and care for you as needed. As carefully as he can, he pulls out, already missing being enveloped by you and your sweet body. The second his fatigued self hits the bed, you instantly cuddle up to him, locking him in place for the foreseeable future.

To say he's a little shocked is an understatement. Sure, you both just shared a moment of passion and pleasure, but there was still some part of him that wondered if you really wanted him. For you to take the initiative to cuddle up to him in the afterglow touches his heart. Solomon wraps his arms around you, humming at the shared warmth between your sweaty bodies and shielding you from the world outside of this room.

Tonight you're his. And he knows he'll always be yours.

[humanpurposes]

The Way You Taste

The lines between friendship and 'more' are becoming difficult to define with you and Aemond. You don't know what's holding you back, but lately you can't shake the feeling that someone is watching you.

modern!vampire!Aemond x reader

Main Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, smut, dub-con, blood play, creepy stuff (tis the season), mentions of murder and violence

Words: 3.8k

A/n: Happy Halloween/Halloween Eve 😼🖤 (depending on your timezone)

You can’t shake this feeling lately, like someone is watching you.

The season doesn’t help. The clocks went back a few days ago and the new cycle of daylight has thrown you off your axis. The mornings are bright but the night comes quicker. You watched the sun fade from the window in your office and by 4pm it was dark. Insanity.

Sure, you can wear your big coat and a scarf to fight off the cold but your limbs still feel shaky and unsure. And it still feels like there are eyes on you everywhere you go; work; the coffee shop round the corner; the supermarket; the gym; your own unassuming flat on the quiet side of Queen’s Park.

Dany’s obsessed with the news stories, always sending you videos and articles with the latest updates and theories. It began about a month ago when a student was found behind some bins in a service yard off Silk Street with a knife in her neck. She was only eighteen, from a small town in Dorne, eager to get a degree and start her life. She had been out with her flatmates at a well known pub in a busy part of town, went outside for a smoke and that was it. According to the police she might have had a chance if someone had found her. Instead she was left to bleed out for hours.

There have been three deaths in total, the student, a 30-something-year-old regular at the club Seven Heavens, and a bartender at Falling Star. Dany thinks the culprit must be some insane conservative with a twisted sense of morals and decency, determined to punish those who actually live their lives– or so she’s seen online.

You don’t know who the culprit is, you don’t really want to think about it. You can’t stop noticing every face you pass on the street, on the bus, on your way into the office, and you wonder, could they be a killer?

Your hands tremble and fumble with the keys to your front door. The key is funny, you have to sort of push it and pull it as you twist it, but the door opens and you scurry inside. The keys are tossed into their usual dish, your coat and scarf thrown on their hooks, shoes off, bag set down on the floor carefully so you don’t smash your laptop. 

You should lock the door. You will lock the door but your head is pulsing and the cold weather has left your throat dry. You need tea, or water. Maybe you could treat yourself to both. 

There are exactly three rooms in your flat. Bedroom, bathroom and the rest of it. The sight of your sofa covered in papers and notebooks fills you with dread but you move on to the kitchen and clear a space on the counter, setting out a glass and a mug. Teabag in the mug. Water in the glass. Water in the kettle. Fuck, the dishes are piling up. 

Your finger is an inch away from the switch on the kettle when your phone rings. The noise is faint, coming from the hallway because it’s in your coat pocket. So you go back around the counter, past the sofa and into the hallway. The ringtone sounds sharper the closer you get and once you’ve got the phone in your hand the name Aemond Targaryen appears on the screen.

Your heart lurches. You let the phone ring for another second before you answer in an airy voice, “hi.”

There’s a soft hum on the other side. “Hello, you. Did you get home alright?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Good day?”

You have to stop yourself from making a sound of exasperation. There’s only so much you can enjoy about a job when you give everything and get seemingly nothing back. “Fine. Long. Emails.”

Aemond hums. Maybe it’s meant to be sympathy but you have this same problem with Dany, the disappointment when they don’t hear what they want to. 

Dany had been the one to introduce the two of you around the end of August. Aemond is a cousin of her’s and at the time had just moved to King’s Landing from Oldtown. She didn’t know him particularly well, but said he got on with her brother, Viserys, which didn’t paint the best image in your mind. But then you met him and right away you knew he was unlike any other man you’d ever met. He was striking; tall, perfect posture, long silver hair, perfectly fitted suit. And his voice, gentle yet chilling. Hypnotic. 

He asked for your number the second time you met and you had given it to him on the basis that an exchange of numbers wasn’t a commitment. Maybe it meant nothing, maybe he just wanted to be friendly. Sometime over the last two months, ‘friendly’ became text conversations into the early morning hours, became phone calls, became coffees and dinner.

“Is everything okay, Aemond?”

“What are you doing tonight?”

You’ve wandered back into the living room. All the clutter makes you anxious. “Need to clean up a bit, get myself some food.”

“Can I come over?”

“Oh, um, I’d rather you didn’t, my place is a mess.”

“Come over to mine, then. I’ll make you dinner.”

You catch your lip between your teeth. 

You and Aemond had gone for dinner last Saturday night. He told you to wear something nice, picked you up in a cab and took you to a steak restaurant where you knew you could barely afford a side dish, let alone a main. He told you to order whatever you wanted, picked expensive wines to go with the food, insisted you get a dessert, and covered the whole bill.

He saw you home. It would have been a shame to end the night before 9pm, so you invited him in. You showed Aemond around, not that your place is spectacular, but he liked what you did with the bedroom, the plants and the postcards on the wall. In the living room you picked out a bottle of cheap white wine from the fridge. Harmless fun, surely.

All self restraint was gone. You were half delirious and cosying up to him on the sofa, telling him about your job, your shitty boss, your obnoxious coworkers. If you had your way you’d start your own blog or magazine, or disappear to a coastal town and write a novel, but that wouldn’t pay off your student loans or pay for a place to live. 

You told him about Dany’s new friends. She had her own startup with her family’s money behind her, and it was doing well but she didn’t have time for anything else. She was unreachable during the week, and every weekend she had started hanging out with her employees. Your chats are filled with photos she's sent you of pints and drunk selfies in clubs. And she never invites you.

But Aemond was there, the only person in weeks who had made any sort of effort to see you. You held his face in your hands and told him how beautiful his lips were.

Then he kissed you.

That took you by surprise. He moved you into his lap, trailed his hands along your legs to the hem of your dress, and all the while your lips moved together so perfectly. You wanted it to happen, more than you had allowed yourself to admit, but you hadn’t expected it. You pulled away and so did he. Something didn’t feel right. Something was holding you back.

He’s Dany’s cousin, you told yourself. 

“It’s alright,” you say, moving your bag to the sofa, paper and pens shifting around it. “Shit– I’ve got some work to do.”

“On a Friday night?”

It wouldn’t be so unbelievable, you staying in on a Friday, but Aemond has a way of picking up on the smallest of details. Maybe there’s a give in your voice. Maybe you’re breathing too heavily– now you’re thinking about it and you can’t get enough air into your lungs.

“I’m fine, honestly, don’t worry about me.”

“I do, that’s the problem.”

You can hardly think over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. And gods, you feel so guilty. Why do you feel so guilty? “It’s just that now’s not a good time.”

“Now as in, right now?”

Now as in this moment. Today. This year. Until you feel that you’re ready, only, you don’t know when you’ll be ready.

“Aemond, you know I think you’re wonderful, I mean, I hope you know that. And I… appreciated dinner last weekend. I just…”

There’s a flow of breath through the speaker, a slow exhale that sets your nerves alight. Aemond has a way of tapping his fingers when he’s impatient or when he’s thinking. You picture him drumming his fingers against his thigh.

“I thought I was being rather direct in what I wanted. I hate to think I’ve imposed,” he says. 

It’s hard not to overthink this kind of thing, after a lifetime of drunk flirting, harmless fun, no strings attached, “not looking for a relationship” and men keeping their options open. Aemond is intelligent and generous. He has an eye for detail, a way of reading you, and a self assuredness that means he can breeze through life effortlessly.

He’s perfect, and you’re not. 

“I’m sorry,” you say.

Aemond is silent. No breathing, no sign of life. It’s like that for a few seconds, but it feels like minutes. And finally he says. “I understand perfectly.” 

“I really am sorry,” you say, but the white noise of the call is dead. 

You finally make yourself that cup of tea. Dany calls and you don’t want to answer. But you do. She’s on her way to the pub. 

“It’s Jon’s birthday and we’re going to Falling Star!”

You don’t want to hate her for being around other people, but why can’t she do it without rubbing it in your face? “Enjoy. And don’t die,” you say.

“I’m too pretty to be murdered,” she says. A slew of true crime documentaries and faces in newspapers would say otherwise, but by then she’s already hung up.

The rest of your evening is a peaceful one. You don’t pay much attention to the dating show you put on the TV, more interested in an algorithm of videos, cats making funny noises, a man shoving his wife’s face into their wedding cake, a tribute to the three victims of the Silk Street murders– no new news there, new economic policies, fantasy book recommendations…

You check your messages. Dany’s just sent you a photo of her pint.

You scroll a little further down and hover your thumb over your chat with Aemond, but you don’t open it.

Nothing in particular wakes you. Still half asleep, you’re aware of your body, the exposed parts of skin against the fabric of your bedsheets, the rise and fall of your chest. Instinct tells you it’s a few hours after midnight. There are no strange noises, no sources of light, just the cold air beyond the duvet, pulled up to your chin.

Then it starts to slip away. 

Your hands struggle to catch up with your mind. You think about grabbing the edge and tugging against whatever is trying to pull it off you, but you can’t. The fabric slips through your limp fingers, dragging over your body until there’s no weight on top of you. Your limbs are frozen in place, curled over on one side, dressed in an old t-shirt, panties and nothing else. Your skin crawls at a silent breeze, but you can feel it again, eyes on you.

Then there are fingers, stroking along your bare legs, closing around your ankles. 

Your eyes blink open, adjusting to the darkness and you can see that the bedroom door is wide open. Without looking, you feel an awareness about the room, a presence looming at the foot of the bed. It pulls on your legs, dragging you further down the bed, positioning you flat on your back.

Even in the dead of night, the gleam of silver hair is undeniable.

“Aemond?”

His gaze meets yours. He smiles and starts to pull at the buttons on his shirt– trust Aemond to show up in a dream wearing a shirt and slacks.

The haze of sleep lulls your mind and sharpens your senses. You run your hands up your thighs, admiring every inch of his skin as it’s revealed to you.

Shirt discarded, his hands come to his belt and linger on the buckle. He hums and it infuriates you how even the slightest of sounds makes you desperate for him. But the belt stays where it is, so do the slacks. 

His palms fall to the mattress and he crawls towards you like an animal. You’ve rarely seen that side of him in real life, maybe that night when you kissed, the way he groaned against your mouth and grazed his teeth over your lips…

His hands are on either side of your head. The colour of his eyes and the line of his scar are difficult to make out in the dark. His body leans against yours, slowly pressing his weight on top of you, making a home for his hips between your legs. You don’t just let him do it, you wrap your legs around him, pulling him in closer as your hips start to rock. 

He leans down, placing a firm, slow kiss against your lips. You try to follow him as he pulls away, but he moves down to kiss your neck, then the base of your throat.

“You can’t lie to me,” he mutters against your skin, “I know what you need.”

He lifts your t-shirt enough to expose your breasts, taking one into his hand and squeezing, just to the precipice of pain. You’re already moaning when he takes the other nipple into his mouth, bruising and licking and sucking. 

With every moment that passes you feel the control slipping, his and yours. Perfect, sweet, refined Aemond, gripping his fingertips into your flesh like claws, restless and grinding himself against you. You thread your hands through his hair, surfaces of bone, chin and forehead, fall against each other. 

Aemond slips further still. He trails his lips along your sternum and your stomach, positioning his face between your legs. There’s no more pretence. He parts your thighs with his palms, pulling your underwear down your legs before he runs a single finger through your folds. You feel how effortless it is, how wet you are for him.

Until his finger is replaced by his tongue in slow, agonising licks. His eyes are on you, but the rest of him is obscured by your own body. You rock against him to chase the feeling, keeping a hand on his head to keep him where you need him. 

It’s like a silent conversation. He takes your queues, responds to your moans and the way your jaw slacks when he finds the right spot.

You watch his shoulder shift and feel the pressure of his finger at your entrance. He doesn’t push it in, not yet.

“Aemond,” you whisper.

He hums against your cunt and you feel it in the rest of your body, an echo through your bones and your blood.

He wants you to beg.

“Aemond, please,”

He slips inside you and you’re weightless. 

The noises you make aren’t conscious. You feel the air flowing through your lungs, the sound in your throat, panting and moaning as he nudges against the flesh inside you. 

It rises and rises until the pleasure tears through you. Aemond holds you in place with a palm splayed on your stomach, unrelenting, working you through the high.

“Aemond,” you whimper, “I can’t take it,”

He pulls away from you, and still gasping for air he comes to his knees on the bed, hovering over you. “You taste too fucking good,” he says.

You’re still writhing in the afterglow when he reaches for something in his back pocket. The shape of it is obscured in the darkness but you can see how he’s holding it, like he’s holding up a pen. It doesn’t even occur to you that it could be anything dangerous. 

“Are you going to let me have another taste?”

You should say yes, that’s how these things go, play along and see where you end up.

He leans over you again, on one hand. You watch the way his hair falls, the way he draws his tongue over his lips. 

It happens too quickly for you to make any kind of protest. Aemond puts the object into your face and there’s a stinging sensation on your lower lip. By the time he has pulled away you feel a liquid pearling at the cut he’s made, wet and warm. 

“What… what the fuck?” you utter.

Aemond surges back into you, a man starved, kissing your bloodied lips. His tongue delves into your mouth and you can taste it, the sweetness of your own arousal, the metallic tang of your own blood.

“Too good,” Aemond growls under his breath, “too fucking good,”

You meet him with hunger of your own and feel his mouth break into a smile.

“See? I knew you wanted this,” he says as his hand curls around your neck, “desperate little thing, aren’t you?”

Your body is screaming for another release. You rake your nails down his back, press your chest up and into him.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Aemond.”

“So why do you keep pushing me away?”

You pause. There’s hardly any space between you, the tips of your noses are the slightest move from touching. You see the stains on Aemond’s lips, the darkness in his expression.

“I’m not ready,” you say.

Aemond huffs to himself, you’re unsure if it's amusement or disbelief. He sits back on his haunches, grabbing you by your wrists to pull you up. He doesn’t let go. His hands are so much bigger than yours, curling around your forearms. “I could give you everything, do you know that?”

You feel yourself frown.

“Why aren’t you ready? What’s stopping you?”

There are so many imperfections in your life. People like Aemond and Dany, they make life look easy because it is easy for them. If they work it’s something to fill the time. 

Your eyes are starting to sting. “I– I have things I need to focus on. I can’t get caught up in this, I can’t distract myself.”

Aemond’s mouth curls into a small smile, his thumbs tracing circles on your skin. “I could take the distractions away. I could make you mine.” He brings one of your wrists to his lips, placing a delicate skin against it, leaving a smear of blood in its wake. "Why deny yourself the pleasure I could give you?"

It’s an enchanting idea, a life outside of a job that makes you miserable, untethered to a friend you can feel is drifting away…

You feel your head nodding.

“Good girl,” Aemond mutters.

You expect him to kiss you again, or lay you down on the bed and fuck you. Instead he reaches for something beside him. The knife.

You flinch away and get as far as the headboard. Aemond still has one hand on your wrist and pulls you back in. 

He takes the blade to his chest and makes a shallow cut down his skin. Your insides turn and tighten at the sight, unable to decide if you’re terrified or fascinated. 

You know what he wants you to do. That’s always the way with dreams, somehow you just know what you need to, even if what’s happening in front of you doesn’t make sense. 

You lean forwards, bracing yourself against his firm torso, tongue out, licking along the cut. His blood pools and burns on your tongue. It’s bitter and sweet, and you relish it.

Aemond moans, cradling your head in his hand.

He pulls on your hair to tilt your chin up. His face is full of admiration and you preen at the praise.

He moves your head down, to the bulge in his slacks. With his other hand he undoes his belt and you pull it away eagerly. He seems pleased at that and makes quick work of freeing his cock.

You delight at the sight of him, watching his hand work himself to hardness, precum glistening at the tip, and take him into your willing mouth. His sighs of pleasure spurn you on, your own arousal rising in your belly. 

Aemond’s grip on your hair tightens as he starts to thrust into your mouth. “Good girl,” he coos, “my perfect girl,”

Until he decides he’s had enough. You hardly comprehend it as he draws you away from his cock, turns you around and positions you on your stomach.

You gasp as he enters you, the sweet sting of stretching around his cock. It’s worth it when he reaches so deep inside of you. You can hear him gritting his teeth as he moans, like he’s torn between desire and restraint. 

And you wish you could watch him while he fucks you, moving in and out of you, his hands digging into the flesh of your ass, the blood dripping down his chest– you can still taste it.

Aemond’s hair tickles against your skin as he leans down, keeping his brutal pace. “Mine,” he misses against your ear, “you’re fucking mine.”

You cry out as your second orgasm washes over you, soft and simmering as he fucks you through it.

You press your fingertips into the mattress, basking in the heat of your skin, the dampness of sweat, the taste of blood on your lips…

When you open your eyes again daylight seeps through a gap in the curtains. You’re still on your front, still in your t-shirt. You move your hand between your legs and find a damp patch on your panties. 

Your legs and your arms are aching. You feel feverish, hot and cold, restless in your own skin. It’s that time of year, you suppose, flu season.

You can’t stop thinking about that dream. It almost makes you laugh, the absurdity of it, Aemond sneaking into your room, and the blood– the blood. 

It would make sense to be disgusted by it, but you’re not. You feel a sort of pressure ghosting against your lips and your tongue. You imagine the sight of him, his toned torso, offering his very lifeforce to you, and tasting yours.

“Mine,” he said. 

You drag yourself out of the bed. Everything hurts. Even setting out a clean t-shirt and sweatpants exhausts you. Worst of all is the hunger starting to appear in your stomach, the kind that twists and churns.

Maybe a shower will put your head right. It’s amazing how many problems can be solved by warm water. You move in slow, sluggish steps to the bathroom. With the water running, you turn to the sink and reach for your toothbrush, catching sight of your reflection.

Something about your face feels different, and you’re not sure it’s a bad thing. You can’t pinpoint it, but you don’t think you’ve ever felt so beautiful.

There is one thing though, a scab on your lower lip, right where Aemond had cut you in the dream.

“I could take the distractions away. I could make you mine.”

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[rootedinrevisions]

The Rough Side of Hangman's Girl

SUMMARY: You’ve always been the quiet one, the kind of girl who prefers soft laughter to loud crowds, and gentle touches over wild passions. But Jake “Hangman” Seresin has a way of drawing out the side of you no one else gets to see. When he steps into your world, he doesn’t just turn your life upside down—he pushes you beyond every boundary you thought you had. Now, with his intense gaze and unyielding hold, you find yourself craving every rough touch, every whispered command.

A/N: Thank you to the person who send me the DM about this request! This one was so fun to write! I really hope you like it and I did your request justice.

Also the way Glen/Jake is biting his lip in this GIF does something to me so I had to include it!

PROMPT: "Don't be gentle with me-I like it when you're rough."

WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, P in V sex, spanking.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The door shut softly behind you, and you barely had a second to breathe before Jake had you pressed against the wall. His hands were braced on either side of your head, his body so close you could feel the heat radiating from him, grounding you and sending your pulse racing all at once. His mouth met yours, warm and teasing, before his lips trailed down to your neck, peppering kisses along your skin with unhurried confidence.

His lips skimmed over a sensitive spot just beneath your ear, and you felt the heat bloom across your cheeks.

A quiet hum escaped you, and you felt Jake’s lips curve into a smirk against your skin. “Jake…” you whispered, the request barely audible, but he heard it. “Bite me.”

He froze for a second, pulling back just enough to catch your eye, his eyebrows raising in surprise. That trademark smirk spread across his face as he took you in, a low chuckle escaping him.

“Didn’t know you had that in you, sweetheart,” he drawled, the endearment roughened by a hint of mischief. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Your eyes met his, emboldened by his reaction. “Don’t be gentle with me,” you murmured, your voice soft but steady. “I like it when you’re…rough.”

Jake’s gaze darkened, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip as he considered your words, his smile turning wicked. “My sweet girl has a dirty side, hmm?” He teased, pressing closer. His voice dropped to a murmur as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Well, I can give you exactly what you want.”

His hands moved to your waist, fingers pressing firmly as he lifted you slightly, pressing you tighter against the wall.

He leaned in, his lips grazing yours as his voice softened to a rough whisper. “But remember you asked for this.”

Jake’s hands gripped your waist firmly as he lifted you, carrying you down the hallway to your bedroom, his stride confident and purposeful. You wrapped your arms around his neck, heart pounding with anticipation as you looked up at him. There was a smoldering intensity in his eyes you hadn’t seen before–something darker, an edge to his usual smirk that made your pulse race even faster.

He pushed open the door with his shoulder, guiding you in and setting you down just beside the bed. His fingers were immediately at your waist, slipping under the fabric of your top, pulling it up over your head in one swift motion. There was no hesitation in his movements, no teasing pace–he was stripping away every article of clothing with a sense of urgency, his touch rougher than usual, more intense.

“Turn around for me,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding as he pressed a hand against your back, guiding you to face away from him.

You felt a thrill shoot through you as you did what he asked, your breath hitching when his hands moved to the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down with a rough pull, taking everything with them until you were bare under his gaze.

“Get on the bed,” he said, voice gruffer than usual.

His hand rested on your lower back, urging you forward until you were positioned on all fours. The air was thick with anticipation, and just as you settled, you felt his fingers thread into your hair, tugging firmly as he leaned over you, his breath warm against your ear. 

“Head down,” he murmured, the quiet dominance in his tone making you shiver. His grip tightened as he pushed your head down to the comforter, his other hand settling on your hip, holding you firmly in place. “And keep that pretty little ass up for me tonight,” he added, his voice laced with a roughened edge that made warmth spread through you instantly.

The weight of his hand, the way he held you down, his voice steady and unyielding–it was already too much, and you pressed your thighs together instinctively, unable to hide the effect he was having on you.

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, catching the subtle movement. “We’ve only just started.”

Your thighs pressed together instinctively, seeking some relief from the tension that was building faster than you could contain. Jake’s amused chuckle resonated in the quiet, his tone edged with a kind of pride and surprise.

Without hesitation, he placed a knee on the bed, leaning in. His hand rested on your hip as he pushed your legs apart again, his knee pressing gently yet firmly, guiding you until you were as exposed and vulnerable as he wanted.

“Keep them like that,” he ordered, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill down your spine .”Or there’ll be consequences. Understood?”

A breathless nod was all you could manage, your face turned into the comforter, heat spreading over your skin. But before you could prepare yourself, you felt the sharp, sudden sting of his hand landing across you, and a gasp escaped your lips, followed by an involuntary moan that hung in the air. Your cheeks flushed deeper, the thrill mingling with a hint of a surprise that you couldn’t hide.

“Oh, now that’s something, isn’t it?” Jake murmured, his tone dripping with amusement as he ran his hand over the spot where his hand had landed, lingering to savor the reaction he’d pulled from you. “My sweet girl likes being spanked, hmm?”

The words made your breath hitch, and just as you felt your body start to melt into his touch, another sharp smack landed, this time harder. Another moan escaped, unbidden, and you felt his fingers spread possessively over your skin, his touch heavy with control and satisfaction.

He leaned in close, his voice a rough whisper as his hand stayed firmly in place. “Keep that up, and I’ll give you exactly what you’re begging for,” he teased, the promise in his voice making you shiver as you instinctively pressed back into his hand, craving more of the intensity he was unraveling in you.

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost to himself, his voice a low, raspy drawl. “Didn’t think my sweet girl who blushed when I kissed her would be into this…but you’re loving it, aren’t you?”

He traced his hand slowly down the curve of your back, a trail of goosebumps left in its wake as he took his time, letting every inch of his touch ignite something deeper. As his fingers reached your thighs, you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing them together again, the ache building so intensely that you couldn’t help it.

But Jake was quick, his hand gripping the inside of your thigh, pushing your legs apart once more.

“Oh no, darlin’,” he whispered, the authority in his voice like nothing you’d heard from him before. “You keep those pretty legs open for me, or we’re gonna have a problem.”

You swallowed hard, nodding, breathless, and his lips brushed against your neck, warm and teasing, before he took hold of your hip, his fingers pressing into your skin with a possessive grip. You could feel the firmness of his body behind you, every inch of him taut and ready, the anticipation was overwhelming.

One hand was still on your hip, he let his other hand drift lower, fingers trailing through your folds, which had you quivering, aching for more. His thumb pressed down on your clit, testing you and the faintest pressure was enough to send a jolt through you.

“You’re already so worked up,” he murmured with a satisfied chuckle, his tone full of dark promise. “Practically dripping, and I haven’t even gotten inside you yet.”

And then, he took it a step further–he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you back against him, his movements more unrestrained, less careful than usual, his body pressed firmly into yours. His hand slid up to your shoulder, gripping it just tight enough to hold you in place as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. 

“Hope you’re ready for this, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice rough with both desire and restraining. “Cause I’m not holding back this time.”

With that, he guided his tip against your folds, taking his time as he ran it up and down, letting the anticipation build until you could barely take it anymore. His touch was rough and demanding, and you were more than ready, practically melting into him as he finally, slowly, pushed himself inside you, savoring every reaction, every gasp, as he showed you exactly what you’d been craving.

Jake’s grip tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with a roughness he’d never shown before like he couldn’t help himself. Every thrust was harder than the last, his movements quick and relentless, sending a wave of pleasure through you that left you gasping, clinging to the sheets for support. His rhythm had lost its usual restraint, each motion fueled by something you’d never felt from him before. And it left you breathless, lost in sensation.

You barely had time to catch your breath before his hand came down on you again, a swift, sharp smack that sent a shockwave of heat through you. A moan escaped before you could stop it, louder than before, your body instinctively arching into his touch. 

The sound seemed to fuel him, and he chuckled, low and rough, clearly reveling in how unabashedly you were responding. “God, I love how loud you’re being for me,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Didn’t know my sweet girl could get so worked up.”

His hand slid along your skin before coming down again with another smack, drawing another moan from you, your voice catching as you felt the sharp warmth spread over your skin.

With each sound you made, he seemed to grow more unrestrained, his hands gripping you together, his pace unrelenting as he moved, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, as though he wanted to pull every last gasp and moan from you.

The pressure of his hands on your hips was almost overwhelming, holding you so firmly that you knew you’d feel his touch lingering on you long after that night.

“You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?” he murmured, his voice dark and teasing, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned closer, his movements never slowing. “Making me think you were all innocent. But here you are, moaning like you were made for this.”

The combination of his words and his movements left you teetering on the edge, your body completely in sync with his rhythm, every rough touch and commanding word pulling you further under his spell. And as he kept moving, kept pushing you closer and closer, you couldn’t hold back, couldn’t stop yourself fro giving in completely to the way he was taking you apart, thrust by thrust, with no intention of stopping until he’d made you his in every possible way.

Jake could feel you tightening around him, each thrust pulling you closer to the edge. Your body was trembling beneath him, and the way you were clenching told him you were almost there. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He needed to push you over the edge, needed to hear you scream his name.

“Get up on your elbows,” he commanded, his voice harsh but laced with desire. You obeyed without hesitation, your body responding instantly to his words. The new angle was almost too much–his hands gripped your shoulders, pulling you back into him, and suddenly the depth of his thrusts was hitting you in all the right ways. You gasped, your head falling back, and your back arched as his cock slammed into you with an intensity that left you breathless.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake cursed under his breath, his hands moving to your hips to help guide you, pulling you back into him with each stroke. He loved how you felt around him, how responsive you were, how loud you were–everything about this moment sent him spiraling. “God, you’re so fucking loud. I love it. Don’t stop…don’t stop making those noises for me.”

You could barely hold onto the sheets, the overwhelming pleasure radiating through your body, the new angle pushing him right to that spot inside of you that made your entire body seize. His words, his voice, everything about the way he was fucking you–faster, harder–was enough to send you crashing toward the edge.

“Let go for me, baby,” Jake growled, his voice rough with hunger. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

That did it. A shock of pleasure surged through you, your body spasming as you cried out his name, the wave of ecstasy washing over you, pulling you under completely. You felt him jerk inside of you, his breath ragged as he pushed you through it, holding you tight as your body quivered with aftershocks. You moaned his name again, your voice breathless, as the final release hit you both at the same time.

Jake’s grip on your hips tightened as you both finished, your bodies trembling, chest heaving as you collapsed together onto the comforter. 

Neither of you could catch your breath at first, the room heavy with the sound of your labored breathing. His hand brushed a strand of hair from your face as he pulled you closer, the warmth of his body a grounding force after the intense release.

“That was…goddamn,” Jake murmured, his voice rough, but there was a softness behind it now, a gentleness as he ran his hand over your back. “You okay?”

You nodded, still catching your breath, unable to form words just yet. He smiled, his lips brushing over your forehead as you both laid there, tangled up in each other, feeling the afterglow of everything that had just happened.

“Good,” he whispered, holding you a little tighter, feeling the contentment between you both settle in. “I’m not done with you yet.”

[frantic-fiction]

Payback 18+

(Pic: northernolddragon) I cropped it

Astarion x f!reader, Astarion x f!Tav

Summary: Astarion goes too far and embarrasses Tav in front of the party. She decides she wants a bit of revenge.

Warning: Smut, MDNI, slight Dom!reader, slight Sub!Astarion, Dom/Sub switch (kinda?), delayed orgasm, Oral sex m and f receiving, PnV sex,

Word Count: 3.8k (I'm a gremlin who just can't help myself)

Masterlist

That fucking asshole. How dare he? You slammed open the door, the handle hitting the wall with a resounding smack. Locking it behind you, you kick off your shoes, stumble over your feet, and rip off your dress. You begin throwing off every other accessory and remaining article of clothing until you are completely bare and breathing heavily. You sigh, frustrated, and pull on a pair of trousers and an old, tattered shirt. Anger pulses through your veins, and embarrassment burns deep in your chest. Falling onto the bed, you drop your face into your hands and pull at the ends of your hair.

Astarion went too far this time. Usually, you loved his sassy comments and sarcastic humor. You were typically the first to laugh when he jests and pokes fun at you and the other party members. But how can you laugh when his lighthearted jokes turn to dirty secrets? When he's telling your friends out in a crowded pub intimate details from your sex life.

You should have known it was a bad idea to have Astarion feed from you while there was liquor coursing through your veins. But he was curious and very convincing. It didn't take long before you were offering him your wrist. Neither of you really thought the alcohol would affect Astarion, and you didn't expect Astarion to be such a fucking ass when intoxicated. 

He teased you and shared private moments all night, and you wanted to hate him. Moreover, you wanted him to be sorry. Beg for forgiveness and mean it. But Astarion is a prideful man and has a stupidly hard time giving out apologies. He's improved, especially with you, but you don't want a simple sorry. You want payback, a little revenge, or as close to it as possible.

A sudden, devilish thought crosses your mind, and you know how you're going to get just that. Quickly, you jump up and move to set your plan in motion. You clean up the room, erasing your angry tantrum from before, and strip down naked once more. You dig around Astarion's pack and pull out his white-laced shirt. And then you wait for him. 

It takes just under an hour of waiting. You filled the time with one of the books you picked up the other day. But just as you go to flip another page, the door handle twists, catching on the lock. You’re on your feet and at the door before Astarion can attempt to unlock it. The palm of your hand hits the door hard, and you're holding it close. 

"Why should I let you in?" Your tone lace with venom.

"Darling," Astarion sighs, a tinge of exhaustion undertoned in his words, his voice no longer holding that annoying drunken slur. "Must we do this?"

"You weren't very nice to me tonight." You lean your back against the door, crossing your arms. “I have half a mind to make you bunk with someone else.”

His head falls against the wood, pushing lightly against your back. "If you let me in, I promise I'll make it up to you." It felt like he was breathing these words sinfully into your ear. 

You flip the lock and open the door. "Say you're sorry."

"Is that really what you want?" He purrs, his eyes darkening and pressing into your space. "I much prefer physical apologies."

Astarion pulls you into a lustful kiss, his hand snaking up your shirt and massaging your breast. He bites your lip, and when you gasp, he licks into your mouth. He traces his fingers over your hip bone and pulls you close.

"Wearing my shirt with no underwear?” He nips your bottom lip, and you shudder. “I don't think you're as mad as you say, my sweet."

You smile sharply and pull him further into the room. Reclaiming his lips, you start pulling at his shirt, exposing Astarion's pale skin. He's kissing down your neck, tugging your shirt aside to lather his tongue over your shoulder. His fangs tease your skin, and you moan. Trailing your fingertips down his stomach, you undo his pants, tugging it down. Astarion steps out, leaving him in a pair of tight briefs, an outline of his swelling cock evident against the straining fabric. He pushes the trousers to the side, and the two of you fall onto the bed in a heap.

"Who says this is for you?" you say coyly, forcing his head to the side and biting hard at his throat.

"Hells,"

"Maybe I was going to take care of myself tonight." You kiss his cheek "Take a bath, have some wine," you bring your lips to his ear. "Touch myself." You tease his ear between your teeth. His grip tightens on you. "I don't need you to please myself, Astarion."

Astarion groans deep in his chest and runs his hands up your thighs to the swell of your ass. He grinds you down onto his half-hard cock. "But here we are." 

"But here we are." You mimic, smiling smugly, relishing how Astarion so confidently believes he holds all the cards.

He kisses you again, and you let him. You could easily get lost in the wet dance of lips and the delicious silent promises of more to come. Give in and just let Astarion consume you. But no, you are far more excited with what's to come. 

"I want to taste you." You moan needily- dragging your teeth down his chest. Maybe you were playing it up, but it seemed to work. You circle his nipple with your tongue, and Astarion lets out a deep groan, nails digging into the plush flesh of your ass.

"Don't let me stop you, my love," 

You tug his cock out and squeeze him softly; he's stiff and aching and instinctually bucks up into your palm. Licking over his nipple, you begin to suck. A trickle of precum starts to fall, and you collect it, beginning to stroke slowly. Kissing down his stomach, you reach his pelvic bone. You look up, meeting Astarion's intense gaze. His mouth is agape, his chest moving in harsh breaths. One hand is reaching up, gripping the headboard in an ironclad grip. You softly press a kiss to the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth. 

"Fuck," He hissed through clenched teeth, "Gods, I love your mouth." 

Urged on by his response, you take more of him in his mouth and begin to move at a slow pace sucking and bobbing your head. Astarion's hands grabbed your shoulder and softly stroked up your neck to the back of your head. He didn't force the pace, just gently held your head, rubbing his thumb softly behind your ear.

"That's it, Darling. So good to me."

Heat rushes through your body, the praise going straight to your core. You hum and begin to bob your head faster. Sucking hard, hollowing your cheeks, you trail your hand down his tensed thigh and cup his balls. You roll him in your hands, and Astarion moans, thrusting into your mouth. You gag and grab his hips, holding him down with your weight.

He's close. His eyes are unfocused, trying desperately to stay on you; he's letting out breathless gasps and attempting to buck up into your mouth, seeking more for you to give. That's when you pull off of him entirely and squeeze his cock tightly.

Astarion lets out a needy whine, sits up, and instantly meets your eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. 

"Apologize!"

"What?" Astarion says, dazed and still lost in the loss of stimulation. Then it dawns on him, and he realizes what's happening. "Naughty little-"

You give him one stroke, and Astarion chokes. "Apologize for embarrassing me tonight."

"My sweet, I was intoxicated; it's not really my fault." He's trying to give off an air of indifference, but you know him better. Astarion was moments away from crumbling.

"I was just as drunk, and I wasn't telling everyone about our sex life." You lick over the tip and begin to stoke him slowly. "Apologize, and I might just let you fuck me."

He moans deeply, thrusting up into your fist. "I-ng shit, I'm sorry, you were upset with my words tonight."

"Nope, try again." You stop completely and meet his eyes. "You have to mean it."

"Please! My love, I'm sorry." His voice cracks. He's practically whimpering; he brings his fist to his mouth and bites down to keep a semblance of control. 

"That's closer, but what you said still hurts, so I want you to make it up to me." You move up his body and kiss him. "Do you want to make it up to me?"

"Yes! Anything!" He sounds so desperate. You don't think you've ever felt so aroused. You clench instinctually against nothing, seeking friction that's not there.

"I want you to beg. I want you to beg to fuck me, handsome" You scratch your nails teasingly down the broad of Astarion's chest. "I want everyone to hear how - how did you put it, love? 'desperate and needy' you are for me."

He looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, eyes blackened from arousal, and a smile stretches his lips."I like this side of you, Darling."

 Astarion captures your lips, and you're on your back before you can comprehend what's happening. "My sweet, please, I need to touch you." His voice is louder than it needs to be. 

"Do you?" You purr, hooking your leg over his hip. 

"Yes!" He moans out, rutting against your dripping cunt. "Please, I need you!"

You brush your hand through Astarions hair and pull him down for a kiss. "Then be a good boy and touch me." 

Astarion doesn't need to be told twice to tug up your shirt. You let him pull it off and throw it across the room. He starts to trail sloppy, wet kisses down the column of your neck. A rough hand grabs your breast, and nimble fingers pinch your nipple. You sigh and thrust your hips up when Astarions mouth finds your other nipple and rolls the peak softly between his teeth before sucking hard.

"Astarion," you moan, caressing any available skin of his you can reach. "So good to me."

He grunts at the praise and moves down your stomach, leaving kitten licks and sharp nips in his wake. His hands are trailing down your sides and stop to grip your hips in a firm hold. He pulls you down the bed, and you let out a little yelp. Astarion meets your half-lidded gaze and bites at the fat of your thigh, lapping up the droplets of blood that bead up to the surface. 

"The sweetest treat," Astarion moans, throwing your leg over his shoulder, trailing his nose down your thigh to the spot you want him most. But I'm still famished. I need more, please."

"Don't let me stop you, handsome." You smirked, mimicking his previous words. Your breath was catching, and you felt just as desperate as Astarion.

You let out a gargled mewl when Astarion trails one long agonizing lick up the length of your cunt. He never breaks eye contact; you bite your lip and grip one of your breasts, fisting the other into the bedsheet.

Astarion consumes you like he'll never be able to again. Desperate, messy, and with no care for the thinness of the walls. You gasp and instinctually try to clamp your legs close. His cold hands hold your hips apart, only allowing pathetic gyrates of your hips. The room is filled with filthy wet slurps and needy moans as Astarion tears you apart.

"Faster, Star. Don't you dare stop," you demand, grinding against his face, shivering when his pointed nose teases your clit. "Such a good boy."

His moan quakes through your cunt, and you throw your head back into the pillow, arching your back slightly. Astarion's fingers push into you and match the ragged pace of his mouth. Your hand finds his soft curls again and holds him in place, pulling gently at the roots. Astarion could break away anytime, but he seems to like it because you feel him grind down against the bed. 

"No, no, pretty boy." You tsk, pulling his hair harsher. He grunts against you, sucking harder at your clit. "You don't get to come until you’re forgiven."

Astarion pulls away from your clit, chin glistening with your juices. His fingers are still pumping into you. "You cruel women." He practically whines breathlessly.

"You're- shit- you're making up for your naughty behavior, remember?" The coil is tightening in your stomach, your body hot, and your breath shaky. "Now be good and make me come."

He smiles wickedly and resumes his ministrations. He curls his fingers up and presses against the spot that has you gasping in silent cries. His mouth finds your clit again and laps his tongue against it. He's relentless, and your legs are trembling. The pleasure is building, the flame licking through your veins. 

"m close, Star,"

He doesn't stop or voice any cheeky comments he would typically make. He just pumps his fingers faster and sucks and lavishes his tongue harder against your cunt. You feel your body tightening, and you grab for anything to hold on to; one hand is still in Astarion's hair, but your other hand grabs his shoulder, digging your nails into his flesh. Astarion scrapes his fangs playfully against your clit, and that's all you need to fall apart. 

You're moaning and screaming his name and mumbling incoherent praises into the air. Black spots seem to cloud over your vision, and all your muscles tighten at once. Astarion drags you through your orgasm, slowing his fingers and moving to soft kitten licks. It takes you a moment to return to yourself, and you are out of breath and covered in sweat. Looking down, you see Astarion. He's staring at you, licking his lips, collecting every drop of you. His face is full of affection and untenable arousal.

"Am I forgiven?"

You surge forward and tackle him into an uncoordinated kiss. You maneuver him around until his back is against the headboard, and you are seated comfortably in his lap. Your tongue tangled with his, the tangy sweetness of your release mingling in the dance. Pulling back, you catch his lip tugging playfully.

"Hmm… I don't know," You smirk, grabbing his neglected cock and giving it a few languid strokes. 

"Darling, please!" He begs, head falling back, exposing his neck to your greedy mouth. 

You press your mouth to the hollow of his throat and suck until you're sure there will be a noticeable mark tomorrow. "I guess you have been such a good boy." Circling your thumb over his tip, you swipe his cock through your folds, coating him in your arousal. 

"Yes, I've been so good." His voice chokes, and he clenches his jaw, desperately trying to seek more friction. Hells, he was so incredibly sexy like this.

"And I think a good boy deserves a reward. Wouldn't you agree, Star?" The rush you feel at his desperation, his neediness for you and only you, has your confidence surging. 

"Yes! Please!"

You line him up with your hole and sit down painfully slow. Two groans of pleasure join together in the room as you seat yourself to the hilt. Astarion grabs your hips in a death grip, releasing an almost painful hiss through his teeth. For a moment, you don't move; feel the stretch and the completeness he gives you. Meeting his eyes, you place your hands on his shoulders and raise on your haunches. You pull up almost off him completely before lowering at the same brutally slow pace.

"Gods, you're so tight." Astarion groans, head falling against your arm. 

He uses the grip on your hips to help set a steady pace that has both of you dissolve into a moaning, blubbering mess. You clench around him and run your hand up his neck to the back of his head, pulling him to your chest. Astarion is quick to resume lavishing your breast with messy kisses, surely littering you with bites and bruises that will linger for days to come. 

You would have loved to drag this out. Punish Astarion for hours until he was nothing but a mumbling, blushing pussy-drunk mess. But you were growing impatient, and the delicious feeling of Astarion's cock filling you was clouding your more devious thoughts. Grinding your hips down hard onto his cock had Astarion gasping into your chest. 

You cupped his jaw and captured his mouth before whispering seductively into his ear. "You've been forgiven. Now I want you to fuck me hard."

A deep groan rumbled through Astarion's chest, and he did just that. You're suddenly on your back, and his tongue is in your mouth. The slow pace was thrown out the window to a brutal pounding that tore the breath from your lungs.

"A-astarion, fuck” You roll your hips to match his pace. 

You're not going to last much longer; you don't think you've ever been more aroused, and seeing how pent-up Astarion is, having been teased along for too long. You know he's just as close. You grab his hand and pull it down your body to where you want it most. He grunts huskily in your ear and rubs harshly at your bundle of nerves. Throwing one of your legs over Astarion's hip, you adjust your body, and his thrusts find a new angle that presses against that beautiful spot inside of you. 

Astarion’s other hand, can’t seem to stay still, moving up and down your body, trying to pay equal attention to all of your soft skin. He’s squeezing your hip, tickling your side, cupping your breast, and moving back down to repeat all over again. He’s peppering kisses over your forehead and cheeks, biting your kiss-swollen lips, running his nose along yours. It’s overwhelming and not enough, but it is always with him. Astarion moves to your neck and sucks at his favorite spot, the place he feeds most frequently from, silently begging for a taste. 

"Mhm," you nod, words no longer forming on your tongue. 

Astarion's fangs pierce your skin, and the familiar icy cold floods your veins. You cry out as he greedily drinks from your body. Your blood seems to turn Astarion feral. He grabs your other leg to join the other in a link behind his back. Astarion grinds you into the mattress, brutally pumping in and out of you. All your body can do is wrap your arms around his neck, smoothing your hands over his body, and hold on. The only sounds that echo in the darkroom are the slick, obscene sounds of skin sliding against skin and needy moans and desperate whimpers. 

You can't tell if you're lightheaded because of the pleasure Astarion is giving you or the blood that he's consuming from your neck. It's probably both, but right now, you only care that he keeps going because that lovely burning heat is returning and boiling in your stomach. 

"I'm so close," you whimper.

This has Astarion finally pulling away from your neck. He looks deeply into your eyes, his pace never faltering. There's a trickle of your blood running down his chin, and you reach up to catch it. You push your thumb into his mouth, and without breaking your gaze, Astarion licks it clean. He grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours above your head. His hand somehow seems to move faster against your clit, and you are moments away from coming undone. On the ledge but seemingly hanging by your fingertips.

"S-so am I, darling." He manages to stutter out, and you pull him down for a kiss. It is desperate and needy, and the taste of your blood, sharp and metallic, mingles with his spit. "Come for me, love; let me feel you."

Those words, always commanded with such affection, had an immediate effect. You clench around him like a vice, mouth falling open in a silent gasp. You sigh his name into his mouth and cup his face with your spare hand as if the moment you come down from this high Astarion might no longer be real. 

Astarion's pace falters, and he clumsily thrusts. Once, twice, three more times before burying deep into your cunt and coming hard with a deep groan. While you're still amid your ecstasy, you are still mesmerized by Astarion coming undone before you. The way his jaw clicks shut and he squeezes his eyes closed. The tightening of his hand on your body, gripping hard enough to bruise, not that you minded. The stuttering minute juts of his hips as he rides out the last of his orgasm. And finally, watching Astarion's body turn to jelly, bones and muscles collapsing under his weight as he falls onto you, head finding your chest.

You run your hand through his curls, scratching his scalp. Astarion purrs softly and kisses your chest, running delicate fingers up your side. He catches your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss the inside of your wrist. 

Astarion rolls off of you and moves from the bed. You whine at the loss of fullness but make no other protest. A tiredness has settled deep in your bones; you don't think you could move if you wanted to. 

Thankfully, Astarion was quick to return. In his hands was a cup of water and a wet cloth. Smiling softly, you take the glass from him and take a long gulp. Handing it back, he places it on the nightstand and rejoins you in bed. Astarion delicately cleans you off, kissing your neck when you wince from oversensitivity. After that was taken care of, he discards the used cloth and pulls you to his chest, kissing the crown of your head and tightening his hold on you. You hum softly and nuzzle into his chest. 

"I am sorry," he says, fingertips drawing nonsense patterns on your back. You glance up to meet his gaze, and he pushes some of your hair out of your eyes. "I'm truly sorry I hurt you, my love. I didn't mean to." 

You give him a tender smile, "Thank you, Star," you kiss the chest just above his heart and whisper, lips brushing against his skin. "I love you."

"And I love you."

Next Day: You giggle over your glass of juice, watching a very disgruntled Astarion from across the room. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes were sharp. His bare forearms crossed over his chest. He was slouched down in his chair, looking like he would rather be anywhere else than in his current situation.

Gale was sitting in front of the vampire, a dusty tome placed on the table between him. You could barely hear the wizard's words as he vainly tried to teach Astarion a simple silencing spell. Gale was trying to help, given the very vocal display Astarion gave last night. And you couldn’t be more pleased at Astarion’s predicament. 

Astarion's ears twitch and his head snap in your direction to give you a pointed glare. He's only given more of your laughter in response.

Fine I'll admit it, I like a needy Astarion, sue me. But you got to agree that drunk Astarion would be a fucking menace.

Anyways let me know what ya thought. Talking with you guys is a highlight of my day.

Taglist: @heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr

Want to be added? DM me.

[p0orbaby]

I’d Probably Still Adore You with Your Hands Around My Neck

summary: leah has a secret

warnings: SMUT 18+, sub!dom, bottom!leah

a/n: your request is my command

word count: 1.6k

-

It starts with a look. A subtle one, really, just a quick flick of Leah’s eyes, down and up, like she’s checking to see if you noticed. But you always notice.

You’re observant like that. Like a hawk, or maybe more like a cat, because there’s something inherently smug about the way you register these things. It’s how you caught on to Leah’s little secret in the first place.

You’re in the kitchen, and she’s leaning against the counter, scrolling through something utterly boring on her phone. Probably an article about defensive strategies or how to perfect her backspin. You’re chopping vegetables, slowly, because you’ve caught on to the fact that Leah has a thing for watching you use knives. It’s not the sharp objects themselves that do it; it’s the way you’re so confident with them, the way you handle everything with this casual precision that borders on reckless but never actually is. You’re good with your hands, and she knows it. Really knows it.

You catch her peeking at you again and decide to test the waters. “Leah, can you pass me the olive oil?”

A simple request. Nothing too loaded. But you notice the way she hesitates before reaching for the bottle. You wait, pretending not to care, but your ears are pricked for any sign of the shift.

She hands you the oil, and you make a point of brushing your fingers against hers when you take it. Just to see what happens.

She shivers.

You almost laugh out loud, but you’re not cruel. Not too cruel, anyway. Instead, you give her a small, almost imperceptible smile, a reward for being such a good sport, and turn back to your chopping.

“So,” you say casually, “anything exciting happening today?”

She grunts, which is her standard answer for “not really, but I don’t want to talk about it.” You wonder, as you slide the knife through the tomato, if she even knows what’s happening. If she notices that with every slice of the blade, she’s slipping further into that place where she’s not entirely in control anymore.

It’s a subtle descent, like someone drifting off to sleep, and you’re more than happy to nudge her along.

“Why don’t you come over here,” you suggest, your voice still light, breezy, as if you’re not luring her into anything at all. “Keep me company”

She pushes off the counter and walks over, stopping just behind you. Close, but not too close. Always so careful, your Leah. Always so measured.

But when you turn around, leaning against the island with the knife still in hand, you see that look again. That flash of something dark and needy that she tries so hard to keep under wraps. You can’t help yourself; you press in closer, until your chest is almost brushing hers, until you can feel the warmth radiating off her skin.

“You seem tense,” you murmur, pretending to inspect her face for any signs of stress. “Rough day?”

Leah swallows hard, but she doesn’t move back. “Just the usual,” she says, her voice low. A little too low.

You set the knife down and grab a piece of cucumber from the cutting board, holding it up to her lips. “Here,” you say, like you’re being the kindest girlfriend in the world. “Eat”

She hesitates again, and you can almost see the wheels turning in her head. She’s calculating, analysing, trying to figure out if this is a trap. But she doesn’t want to disappoint you, so she opens her mouth, and you slide the cucumber between her lips.

Her eyes flutter shut, just for a second, and you have to suppress a grin. She’s such a sucker for this. You’re not sure if it’s the authority in your voice or the way you’re feeding her like she’s some pampered pet, but either way, it’s working.

You take another slice, holding it up again. “Good girl,” you whisper, and this time, her eyes snap open with a look that makes your pulse multiply. There it is, the crack in her armor, the thing she’s trying so hard to hide but can’t.

She chews and swallows, her throat bobbing, and you wonder how far you can push this. How much she’ll let you get away with before she snaps. You’ve been doing this for a while now, playing these little games, but it’s still a thrill to see how much she’s willing to surrender.

You set the cucumber down and grab her hips, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between you. “I think you need to relax,” you say, and she nods, almost imperceptibly, like she’s too scared to actually agree out loud.

You lean in, your lips brushing her ear. “Bedroom,” you whisper, and she shudders against you.

She hesitates again, just for a second, before she turns and walks toward the bedroom. You follow, taking your time, watching the way her shoulders tense and relax with every step. She’s trying to play it cool, but you know better. You’ve got her exactly where you want her.

By the time you reach the bedroom, she’s already sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you. You stand in the doorway for a moment, just watching her. She looks so small like this, so different from the commanding presence she usually carries herself with.

You cross the room and stand in front of her, your hands sliding up her arms, feeling the tension in her muscles. “Lie back,” you say, and she does, her breath hitching as her back hits the mattress.

You climb onto the bed, straddling her hips, and you can feel the way her body reacts to the weight of you on top of her. Her hands twitch at her sides, like she’s not sure what to do with them.

“Hands above your head,” you instruct, and she complies, her fingers gripping the pillow behind her. She’s always so eager to please, so ready to follow orders, and it’s almost too easy to get her like this. Almost.

You lean down, your lips brushing hers, and you feel her body tense beneath you. She’s waiting, anticipating, and you let the moment stretch out, let her feel the weight of your control before you finally press your lips against hers.

She kisses you back with a desperation that makes you ache, her mouth opening under yours, her tongue sliding against yours like she’s trying to tell you something without words. And maybe she is, maybe this is her way of saying she needs this, that she’s been craving this, even if she’d never admit it out loud.

You pull back, just enough to break the kiss, and you watch the way her chest rises and falls, the way her breath comes in short, shallow gasps. She’s already so worked up, and you haven’t even touched her properly yet.

You slide your hands down her body, feeling the way her muscles jump under your touch. “You’re so tense,” you murmur, your fingers trailing over her ribs, her stomach. “You need to calm down”

She nods, her eyes wide and dark, and you can see the way she’s fighting to keep herself together, to not lose it completely. But you’re not going to make it easy for her. Not tonight.

You slide your hand lower, slipping under the waistband of her shorts, and she gasps as your fingers brush against her. She’s already wet, and you can’t help the satisfied smirk that spreads across your face.

“So needy,” you tease, and she lets out a soft whimper, her hips bucking up against your hand.

You take your time, dragging your fingers through her slick heat, feeling the way she shudders beneath you. You can tell she’s trying to hold back, to not give in too quickly, but you’re not having that.

“Don’t hold back,” you say, your voice firm. “Let me hear you”

She whimpers again, louder this time, and you reward her by sliding two fingers inside her, feeling the way she clenches around you. She’s so tight, so hot, and it’s all you can do to not lose yourself in the sensation of her.

You start to move your fingers, slow and steady, and you watch the way her eyes flutter shut, the way her mouth falls open in a silent moan. She’s so beautiful like this, so open and vulnerable, and it makes your heart race to know that you’re the one who gets to see her like this, who gets to make her feel this way.

You pick up the pace, your thumb circling her clit, and she’s panting now, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She’s close, you can feel it, and you lean down, pressing your lips to her ear.

“Come for me,” you whisper, and that’s all it takes.

She cries out, her body going rigid under you as she comes apart, and you keep moving your fingers, drawing out her pleasure until she’s trembling, her whole body shaking with the force of it.

You finally slow down, easing her through the aftershocks, and you pull your hand away, feeling a surge of satisfaction as you watch her chest heave with the effort of catching her breath.

You slide off her, lying down beside her, and you pull her into your arms, feeling the way she finally relaxes against you, her body melting into yours.

She’s still shaking a little, and you press a soft kiss to her forehead, whispering soothing words in her ear as she comes down from her high.

You can feel the way she’s clinging to you, like she’s afraid to let go, and it makes your heart swell with affection for her.

“Good girl,” you murmur, and she sighs, her breath warm against your skin. “You did so well”

She doesn’t say anything, just nuzzles closer to you, and you can feel the way her body is still humming with the afterglow of her orgasm.

[hitomisuzuya]

Aventurine x fem!reader. Smut. Masturbation. Vivid sexual fantasies. Fingering. Squirting. Blowjob.

@chiscaralight kindly asked I write for Aventurine. It's almost 6am, and this is probably going to sound like a bunch of high nonsense. I really need this man😭 This isn't what I originally intended to write.

Aventurine's mind races when he masturbates. He just can't help himself today. It was bad enough that he had the sudden, uncontrollable urge to seek relief during work hours. But, there were a lot of factors working against him.

There had been a certain sway to your hips when you walked. The perfume you wore assaulted his senses. When you walked, the pleats in your little skirt bounced, giving the slightest whispered hint of a garter belt adorning your thigh.

Sighing, Aventurine leaned back in his chair, giving the atmosphere time to quiet down. Made sure everyone, including you, was out on lunch. His bewitching eyes closed, his hand hovering over his twitching dick.

One of the things that he has been forefront of his mind picturing what you would look like on your knees, with your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. Looking up at him with a look in your eyes that said there isn't anything you would rather be doing than sucking his cock.

You would be letting out the prettiest, muffled noises, drooling on his cock as he pushed it into your throat. He rested his head back on the head rest of his office chair, unbuttoning his pants and freeing his aching cock. He left his gloves on for extra friction.

He couldn't take too long and risk getting caught.

His gloved fingers stroked his cock. Thinking of how your throat would feel convulsing on it as you gagged, his fingers tightening in your hair to hold your head in place as he thrust into your throat. Your tongue would lap and curl around his cock, a muffled mewl of bliss vibrating on his length as it emptied in your mouth.

Aventurine couldn't stop the lilting moans that started to sound from him. He rutted into his hand, hissing and squirming in his chair, his cock pulsing in his hand.

His mind drifted to thinking of sitting you on his desk, and telling you to be good girl and wait for him while he finished working. His fingers would be idly playing and fingering your pussy. "Shh, shh, it's okay, sweet heart," He'd croon as your juices soaked onto his hand, your hips bucking to nudge his fingers into your sweet spot as he relentlessly scissored your walls apart. Whimpers to please let you cum would spill from your pretty mouth. "Just hang tight," He purred, laughing amused as you suddenly squirted on his fingers, "And wait for me," The pace of his fingers would never relent, overstimulating you as he continued to finger you like you never squirted on his fingers to begin with.

Aventurine massaged his thumb over the head of his leaking cock.

Or maybe he would be a bit cruel.

Aventurine fisted his cock with little regard to how much time was passing. He was too wrapped in thoughts of playing with your pussy, and denying you every opportunity to cum. Leave your pussy puffy and abused, your clit throbbing and walls clenching around nothing. He would purposely stay and work late to make you more needy for him.

His cock pulsed steadily in his hand, the cusps of orgasm building as he thought of taking you back to his penthouse. Stripping you with hushed promises to replace any articles of clothing he tore off. Putting you on all fours, pressing your face into the soft pillows and fucking you from behind.

You wouldn't be able to think, the feral pace with which he fucked you barely gave you any time to adjust as he cock squelched lewd and loud in and out of your sloppy hole.

Aventurine let out a loud, lilting cry as cum spurted into his hand. Relief instantly encompassed his body. He sat there panting quietly for a few moments before cleaning himself up.

No sooner had he done so, you, his sweet little secretary, the object of his fantasies had just returned from lunch.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tender Cuts

Gwayne comes home battered and beaten, and so you kiss his busted lip and tend to his wounds.

Gwayne Hightower x Reader | 700< | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, mentions of injury/blood, hurt/comfort, fluff, softhours, typos, etc.

A/N: i cant help myself. the unholy unspeakable things i want to do to this man... and yet here i am offering you some fluff

Tagging: @lancedoncrimsonwings

Gwayne watches the way I undo his armor. He sighs and straightens from his chair, turning to the vanity mirror, "I am uninjured."

"And so you say, yet on your lips therein lies the lie you offer, husband," I retort as I finally remove the final piece of steel upon his form.

I bend over as he sighs once more. His tired eyes remain on my face as I unbutton his top. He places his hands on his thighs as he spreads them, "I am not gravely injured."

I forfeit a response and continue to touch him with care, as not to accidentally cause his unexposed injuries any more irritation. By the time I have his top unbottoned, Gwyane removes it along with his undershirt before I can do so. He stands and takes my hands. His eyes are more awake now as he places my palms on his bare chest, "inspect me yourself if you distrust me so."

His tone pinches my heart. "It's not that I distrust you, love," I rub his shoulders, "it's just that you've grown numb to your pain, and I do not wish any ailment to sneak up on you."

Gwayne's eyes slowly shut as I rub his arms then caress the sides of his firm belly. "So?" he grumbles, "shall I rid myself of my pants?"

My expression perks, "you might as well."

He opens his eyes and furrows his brows.

"I will bathe you myself."

Gwayne does not protest, save perhaps for a few more sighs as he rids himself of his last articles of clothing and steps into the preprepared tub. I waste no time and drag a stool to the side, eager to get him clean. He melts into my touch as I scrub his skin.

I splash his arm a few times before moving onto his chest. The room is silent, apart for the sound of sloshing water. Gwayne's head feels heavy, I can tell. I rub his shoulders to encourage him to relax.

"You don't have to mother me, you know."

I tilt my head as I find one of the freckles on his sternum, "I am a mother. You should know, you were there when it happened."

"You mothered my children, not I." He rests his arms on the sides of the tub.

I lift my gaze. His eyes look heavy.

For a moment, my husband is not he, but a child abandoned. I look upon his tired face and recall the soft confessions he'd whispered as I laid in his arms, confessions of his loneliness, his longing. He recounted all the memories of his mother that remained with him. He vented out his hurt over his father who he grew without.

I knit my brows and put down the sponge in my hand, "do you not want my touch?"

He drops his head then grabs my wrist, "I do not want you to worry." Gwayne pushes closer to me. The water around him splashes. He leans on the rim by my side and kisses my pulse. He repeats softer, "I do not want you to worry."

I press my lips into a line and brush his hair back with my free hand, "oh, my love," I sigh, "unfortunately, I worry regardless."

He rests his head upon my hand when I caress his cheek. I comb my fingers through his hair as much as it will allow me in its matted state. He closes his eyes. I trace the shape of his nose with my palm.

Gwayne has never said it out loud, but I know that sometimes he feels undeserving of the attention I so freely shower him in. The wounds of his younger self that never quite healed make the affections he's so craved quite hard to take in.

"My sweet boy," I whisper, gently rubbing his lips, "let me do this for you."

His blue eyes slowly open. They are shrouded with red exhaustion. He finally relents, eyes closing again as he leans back and offers himself completely to me.

I decide to wash his hair for a change, and as I do so, I sing a folk song from the Reach. He rests his head on the tub, sinking slightly into the water as he allows himself to relax.

I only stop singing when he mutters something unintelligible. I lean towards him, "what was that, my love?"

His lips barely move, "thank you."

A soft smile finds me.

"I love you."

I immediately press my lips into his. I make sure to do so delicately, so not to disturb him or the cut on his lower lip. I look at his face for a few moments before pulling back, "I love you too."

I continue singing from where I left off.

[awkward-fink]

Sleep Positions with Them. (I)

Price: - He lays on his back, one arm around your body, holding you securely to his side in a gentle but firm hold. - only wears sleep shorts and his dogtags to bed. His thighs are too thick for normal sleeping pants and he gets way too warm in those anyway. Also he loves that he can feel your skin on his when you tangle your legs with his own. - loves when you are draped half over him, your fingers curled into his chest hair, one hand of his covering yours. One of his fingers is laying on your pulse point, feeling the steady thrumm while his thumb lazily traces over your knuckles. - he doesnt need a blanket. And you dont either. He is a living furnace, even in winter you are always cosy warm.

Ghost: - curled around you, holding onto you tightly. - always sleeps closest to the door, its instinct, dont question it. - on bad nights he will sleep on top of you, his head firmly positioned on top of your chest, ear firmly pressed against the spot where your heart beats underneath layers of skin and flesh. Its his most favorite lullaby. - would sleep in his tactical gear if you hadnt forbidden it, so he wears a long shirt and long sleeping pants to bed. - will wake when you move or twitch and check if everything is alright before falling back to sleep - forget going to the loo in the middle of the night alone. What if you fall? Or stub your toe? And he isnt there to protect you from the corner of the shower? No way. He is sleepily stumbling right after you, only alert enough to fall into bed after you and curl around you, again. - only needs a light blanket when sleeping with you, because you are clingy (as if he is not!). And needs a weighted blanket on nights when you are away on business.

Soap: - no fixed sleeping position. He starfishes, noodles around, and planks on the bed. All at once. Though, he never pushes you out of the bed, again. Once was one time too many and the *Look* you gave him after that scared him for life. - falls asleep with you in his arms as the big spoon. wakes up in a double spiral, flat salto mortale with you on top of him, his legs wrapped around you like a monkey. And no one knows where the blankets have gone to! - would sleep naked but you wont allow it, on every night. He starts with a boxershort and a shirt and wakes up with one article of clothing missing. - is a sleep kisser. Kisses your fingers, your shoulders, your chest and if he is lucky, your mouth in his sleep. Also cant get enough contact. - loves when you card your hands through his hair when he had a bad day, or a nightmare. Calms him down real quick. If you speak gaelic, he will literally start drooling in his sleep - all the blankets and then no blankets - nights with Soap are wild. In more ways than one.

Gaz: - has a strict routine before coming to bed - loves to have you at his side when falling asleep, your head on his shoulder and his nose buried in your hair. Its calming for him. - sleeps like the dead. Or a stone. Or a field of stones. You could play hardcore metal with screeching violins and that man will only twitch a finger. - *has* to have contact with you while sleeping. Doesnt matter if its a hand, a foot, a leg or even your head, NEEDS contact. If there is no contact, he will wiggle in the bed to search for you, and he will be asleep while doing that - has a whoe ass pyjama, which looks like a suite or at least fitting together like those checkered Ones made out of cotton. Filthily comfy and wont let you burrow them. - Needs at least two blankets and you to rest in comfort. - Listen! Has the most wild dreams and will talk to you in his sleep, wont remember anything in the morning though

Bonus! Roach: - loves to sleep with you in the bed - has a blanket only for you, and a pillow and even wants you to sleep in his shirt. - you understand, that he can fall asleep better if he can have something smelling of you, when you are not with him - loves to curl his fingers around yours, watching you sleep, your legs tangled and your foreheads touching. - lazily signs one handed against the palm of your hand, silly little things, his feelings, sweet nothings, just wants to feel you. - has the best sleep when your breaths mingle, your hands intertwined, his leg hooked around yours. - loves to wake up and the first thing he sees is you. (has literal heart eyes!) - has one oversized blanket for you both to share - loves to kiss you lazily, lips just brushing over yours chastely until you both fall asleep. Holds one of your hands to his heart if he can get away with it - wears a very ol shirt and some old shorts to bed

[chiliyue-archived]

Backseat of his car

↬making out with him in the backseat

Includes; Dazai, Chūya

Tags; Heavily suggestive. Biting, markings, groping, implications of sex wink wink nudge nudge

Notes; Thank you anon for this wonderful idea

Requested !

-

Dazai

His breath was tickling right under your ear, hot puffs of air spurring your desires. It was terribly cramped in his car, your elbow probing at an awkward angle as your lover made you shiver and spilled soft muffled moans from your lips.

Despite the predicament, it really yieled little concern from Dazai, who shamelessly bit and feathered his lips along the bare patches of your skin. His mouth was terribly greedy, leaving a trace of blemishes whilst dripping in mirth and sweet nothings as his senses numbed out to a pulse.

He has you pressed against the door, your head resting on the window- the angle was a little uncomfortable but it very quickly drowned out to pleasure as he continued his actions, body curving to reach new locations as much as the space allowed.

"'Samu-" you breathed out as his teeth took a more harsh approach and bit into your collarbone with little mercy. You could feel your lover smile against your sensitive skin; a mere hum came from him as he suddenly rasped his tongue over the forming bruise.

You craned your neck out, granting him more access as his fingers crept along your thighs and spine coaxing a sputtered sigh from your abused lips. Before you could even mutter a response, Dazai pulled away; his eyes dancing along your figure, taking in the newly added collection of lovebites.

" Can't wait to get home and have you all to myself, 'Bella." He murmured before leaning to peck you on the lips. You felt his tongue brush against your bottom lip, teeth ghosting along the surface - a foreshadowing of what's to come later." Hmm, but as for right now, I'll spoil and kiss you here while I can."

With greedy hands, he pulled you closer and swallowed your breath away with a kiss that left you moaning softly. His hand reached out and pressed flat against the window- the glass in which fogged up with your combined heated breathes- supporting his weight as his lips chased after yours again, again and again, only pulling away for a crude intake of oxygen before repeating the action.

Chūya

He makes you utterly drunk on the feeling of his tongue exploring your wet cavern that you hardly remember that you're in his car. It's wasn't some cheap rental either. The seats were cushioned with expensive leather that in the heat of the moment, you could easily mistake it as the mattress of your shared bed.

As his tongue glided against yours, his gloved fingers traced along your body, maneuvering under your articles of clothing and exploring the bare skin. He smirked against the kiss as you squirmed when the cold texture of his gloves made contact with your sensitive skin.

" Hah... too irresistible. Couldn't wait till later." He huffed out, pulling away with a string of salivia connecting you from your passionate exchange. His face flushed at the sight of you below him, lips glistened and magenta from your exchanges. He leaned down again to press a chaste peck to your cheek before trailing down to the area below your ear. Your body stiffened as you felt him suckle the skin, a purple blemish forming in its place.

Chūya continued to trail hot wet kisses along your neck, the mixture of your hot breaths feeling nearly suffocating within the vehicle. It radiated an aura of pure passion and pleasure as his fingers found the curve of your hips, tracing it out with two fingers as his lips attached to any skin it found.

" Y'know, babe, these windows are tinted. Meaning we could do anything we want right now." His voice was low, husky against your ear as his hands started to dip underneath your shirt once again and trailed up to grope gently as your chest.

" What do ya say, Doll?"

-

[rayveneyed]

cw: sexually explicit content / blood / relatively light sadomasochism / age + experience gap (reader is older + more experienced) / sub!choso / vampires 🧛‍♀️ / sex and violence as two sides of the same coin /

choso kamo is 160 years old when he meets you.

in those years of walking the earth, undead, he believes he’s embraced his vampirism as much as he possibly can. the broiling self-hatred he had once found solace in has reduced to a simmer, strongest in those moments of blood and guts and weakening heartbeats; and although he often avoids crowds, and companionship, and light, he no longer believes himself to be a slave of his own nature.

to be true — in the grand scheme of immortality, of vampirism — he isn’t anywhere close to the level of control he’d wish to have. often, when indulging yuji’s desire to enjoy the world as he did before his death — boardwalks and arcades and cotton candy — he feels his canines aching in his gums, stretching until they dimple against his bottom lip.

it’s not comfortable. it’s not confident. but even despite the growing aches, he’s no longer cowering in alleyways; no longer drinking from poor stray cats and garbage-chewing rats to momentarily satiate that ever-growing, gnawing hunger. he has some sense of control—

“oh, you baby-bats. so adorable.”

control which he now flounders to grab.

a sharp, inky black nail scrapes up the column of his neck — he can’t help but arch into it, head tilting back until his wide, pupil-blown eyes find the ceiling, with its intricate coving and obsidian chandeliers. the music from the main hall is nothing but a buzzing in the back of his head; thoughts of his friends’ whereabouts, an afterthought. your fingernail crowds the underneath of his jaw and stops at where his pulse point would have thrummed, would he have been alive.

you’re a demon. a devil. a she-beast. a succubus. any horrid, terrible name he could call you, he will — dressed in blacks and burgundies and gold older than him, your lips painted an ox-blood red and your eyes as sharp and dark as any polished knife. in your hands he is small. weak. mortal.

“satoru usually keeps his strays away, after last time,” you say, pouting now, though it’s a crude approximation of sadness — even now, your eyes glint with devilment. “so mean, when he knows i have a weak spot for bats like you.”

that wretched finger stretches up; pokes at his bottom lip, scrapes against the fangs that had — embarrassingly — extended from his gums at the simple weight of you on top of him.

“look at that,” you coo, and your grin is something unsettling, something that curdles in the pit of his stomach and heats between his legs. “excited, pup?”

his answering breath comes ragged, and it’s always more embarrassing than it was when he was human. his heart doesn’t work, his lungs do not work, and he has no need to breathe — in fact, he lost the reflex to do so around 92 years ago — but his brain is scrambled, it seems, wilted neurons confusing signals from almost two centuries ago. “i’m — ahem — i’m okay, duchess.”

“how sweet. you don’t have to call me by my title, you know. my name will do just fine.” at his silence, you push yourself up from where you’d been laying low against his chest — looking far too excited when you say: “unless, of course, you like it.”

his hands tremble at his side. he can’t remember the last time he’s indulged in — in debauchery. the last time someone’s made him feel like they’re holding his heart in their hands. over the past hundred-odd years, he’s avoided it like the plague, and for good reason — most vampires aren’t known for their commitment, let’s just say. and now you’re on top of him looking like every sin he’s tried to avoid, and he’s straining so hard in his pants he fears he’ll cum before you even hint at removing a single article of clothing.

you press yourself flush again, nosing at his neck. he knows, for the first time in his long life, what it feels like to be prey. is this what his victims had felt when he ripped into their throats, young and inexperienced and bloodthirsty? did their vulnerability sit like a stone in their throats?

a groan comes from you, suddenly, and your tongue darts out to lave against his skin. choso’s answering moan is more of a whimper, broken and weak in his mouth, but you don’t seem to notice — or care. he flexes his glutes in an effort to stop himself from rutting up against you — not only would it be embarrassing, desperate, but it would be rude. this is your house, after all. your soirée. your gilded halls and bedazzled walls. your silk sheets against his back. your satin skirt bunched around your waist.

“tell me, pup,” you say, and he fights the instinctual reflex to shiver at the brush of your lips against his skin, “have you ever fed from our own?”

“hm?” it’s a sound of confusion brought half on by his simple lack of knowledge, and half on by his slow-processing brain. only seconds after does he fully register your question, and the eyes he hadn’t realised he had screwed shut flew open. “no. i — i didn’t know that was possible.”

all at once, you’re sitting up again — swinging your leg over his hips until you’re standing. it wouldn’t be right to call it clambering — you are impossibly graceful, even passed the agility and elegance that comes with the gift of the undead. his hands reach for you before he can stop them, a sound like a question on his tongue, and you send him the sweetest, most tooth-rotting, stomach-turning smile. he thinks he likes your biting, cruel grins more, though you’re lovely regardless.

you begin to reach for the ties of your corset at your spine — just another thing that makes his mouth water. people didn’t wear these sorts of clothes anymore, not in the human world. but he remembers the skirts and corsets from paintings of noblewomen hundreds of years ago, and how he’d admire the curve of their waists, the swell of their chests—

“of course, satoru wouldn’t tell you. why would he?”

his eyes snap up from your chest, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. but you don’t seem to mind. the corset is removed painfully slowly, for no other reason than to torture him; then, the outer dress, with its carmine satin and intricate embroidery. you throw it to the floor carelessly, as if the most knowledgeable museum curators wouldn’t prostrate themselves at your feet for the simple chance to display it for millions to see — a while his eyes drink up the sight of more skin, the whisper of form beneath your underdress and bloomers, you near him once more.

metal to a magnet, a moth to flame, he pulls himself to the edge of the bed. you find a place between his legs and grasp his chin, and choso can’t look away from you.

“i can take you apart and put you back together,” you say — promise — voice like crushed velvet, quiet and creeping like a choking vine. your thumb smooths over his cheek and ends at its apple, where you press the sharp tip of your nail into his flesh. “i can show you the pleasures of your eternal life, and its pains, and everything in between. i can bring you to every edge, and draw you back from them just as quick — and it will be painful, and you’ll enjoy it so much you won’t be able to go another day without it.”

he’s lost the ability to speak. his unmoving heart is in his throat — or in your hands, or between your sharp teeth. you tilt your head and regard him with knowing, twinkling eyes.

“all you have to say, pup, is yes.”

oh, it’s out of him so quick he can hardly keep up — a word so breathy you’d swear you’d already had your way with him. but embarrassment is a thing of the past when your smile stretches, and you murmur marvellous. you release him from your grasp, much to his chagrin, but when you begin pulling down your bloomers his attention shifts.

he can smell you. smell you. the musky, salty scent of between your legs — a smell that has his mouth watering and his fingers cramping from how hard he fists the sheets. your bloomers are damp when you discard them, sticky with your arousal, and pride glows in choso’s chest. he didn’t do much, but it seemed enough — if he had only let himself lose control, hump up against you harder, perhaps it would’ve stained his clothes; seeped through your layers and onto his lap. he’d go home and hold it over his nose until the scent faded, and perhaps after.

“new as you are,” you say, climbing onto your bed once more and reclining back against the numerous pillows — huffing a mean-sounding laugh when he crawls after you. “i’ll do you the mercy of taking it easy, just this once. oh, don’t make that face — you look like a kicked puppy. i promise you’ll enjoy what i have in store for you.”

and you hike up your underdress, and spread your legs. choso’s mouth waters — the thick smattering of hair on your mons, your flower-like labia, shiny with your arousal. and your clit, peeking out from its hood, pink and shiny and begging to have his mouth on it. but as if this wasn’t enough — as if he wasn’t already scrabbling to get between your legs — you take one of those long, sharp nails, and drag it against your inner thigh. the skin splits. blood trickles down from the wound like a river of gold, flowing into the crease between your thighs and your pussy, and it smells ambrosial. if his fangs were aching before, they’re screaming, now. this isn’t human blood; this is richer, sweeter, creamier. delectable. hedonistic. you’ll make a glutton of him.

“after all,” you say, grinning wickedly, “i’m treating you to a most delectable meal.”

[xoluvx]

Hi bb! First I am absolutely obsessed with your writing and Billie and Ive just fallen into your page and am in love! 🥹

Would you consider writing about Billie and the reader where the reader has been in a traumatic situation and hates storms and Billie ends up comforting and a little ✂️ action and cuddling to comfort? xx

aw thank you angel 🥺 and omg i love the ✂️ action during a storm hello??? please enjoy thiiiis 💖💖

“It’s okay,” her voice trickled in your ear, soft and warm as she held your close. You buried your face further in chest, gripping her shirt tighter and tighter each time you heard a noise. Chest tightening, body shaking, eyes shut.

“I got you, baby,” Billie whispered wrapping both arms around you as she rocked your body gently.

“It’ll pass,” her tone was reassuring, urging your body to calm down, but you tensed when you heard a loud rumble and she squeezed your arm.

“Hey, look at me” she said holding your chin, lifting your head so you were looking at her. Your eyes were glistening, bottom lip pouting. When your eyes met, you couldn’t help but get lost in her blue orbs, so warm and tender. Even in the dim light of the lamp, they shone. She brought her face closer and you extended your neck, lips touching tenderly.

Her hand spread across your cheek pulling you closer, limbs tangled as your mouths opened and closed hungrily.

It didn’t take long for hands to start prying at clothes, pealing and discarding the articles of fabric until your naked bodies molded into one. So close you could feel the goosebumps on her skin.

She tugged at your bottom lip with her teeth and you let her, drowning in her dominance. Letting her take control of your body and soul. She maneuvered your bodies until you were straddling her, one thigh draped over her torso, the other tucked under her thigh.

Her hands were gentle on your hips, fingers curling on your skin as she urged your body to move. Your wet pussies touched so intimately as you hung your head, lost in pleasure. She watched you through hooded lids, biting her lip as you swayed on top of her so slowly, your clits rubbing just for the sake of feeling close.

She planted her foot on the bed so you could hold her thigh and support your weight. You swayed and rolled your hips. She held your thigh running her fingers up your delicate skin. You moaned and rested your cheek on her knee, the friction overpowering. She lifted her hips and you moved faster, holding your hand under her knee clinging to her flesh as your pace increased; lips parted, moans running down her thigh.

You slid on her pussy trying to reach your high. Mumbling words of encouragement, she watched as you moved on top of her. So beautiful and careless and completely unaware of the storm roaring outside. You felt your pussy tighten as you kissed her knee. You couldn’t hold on much longer.

She squeezed your thigh moving her hips and you caved. Your legs shaking, pussy throbbing as you came on her own pulsing heat.

You took a few seconds to collect yourself. Cheek still pressed on her knee. Mouth open gasping for air. She felt your heart beating against her inner thigh and carefully pulled on your arm bringing you down to her. You laid next to her, leg draped over her body. Chest beating.

She wrapped you in her arms, hand cupping your jaw. Lips touching softly drowning out all the noise. Cuddling, filling you up with comfort and love.

[quite-right-too]

fic recommendations

These are some of my favorite fics - the ones that I go back and read over and over again. Please enjoy them with me! These aren't in any particular order.

One Shots

One Night by @kcchameleon17

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Romance, First Time, Post-Episode AU: s04e13 Journey's End, One Shot, Smut, Sex, Angst and Feels, Angst, Fluff, Sexual Tension, Love Confessions, Yearning Length: 7,346 Chapters: 1/1

"One night. Just one night to show her how much he loved her. One night to hold her and pretend he was the genuine article, the one she could really want, just for a few hours. If this was the only shot he had been guaranteed to be able to show this woman he loved more than every star in the sky his devotion, he was just going to have to grab it with both hands." Rose, Tentoo, and Jackie spend a night on the Tardis before Ten brings them back to Bad Wolf Bay.

hunger by @metacrisisdoctor

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, First Kiss, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Post-Episode: s04e13 Journey's End Length: 5,117 Chapters: 1/1

His hands are out his pockets milliseconds later. He walks over to her in three large steps and cups her face in her hands and pulls her mouth to his. It's a hard, bruising kiss. It's a kiss he's held in far too long. It's the kiss of a man who stood at the grave of the woman he loves, and has been gifted with her resurrection.

buried alive inside my dreams by @sadcoms

Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Episode: s02e08 The Impossible Planet, The Impossible Planet, Krop Tor, Domestic, Posession, not quite angst not quite fluff but a third more confusing thing, Length: 14,475 Chapters: 1/1

He wonders now if it was only the knowledge that Rose was alive, her breathing matching his own and her pulse beneath his fingertips, that stopped him from collapsing in on himself until he ignited and turned into a black hole. In which Toby isn't the one who gets possessed and the Doctor and Rose end up getting that mortgage.

Stay and Hear, Your True Love's Coming by @badxwolfxrising

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Post-Episode: s04e13 Journey's End, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Snogging, Dry Humping, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, First Time, Dirty Talk Length: 9,701 Chapters: 1/1

"No. Nope. Shut up,” she wheezes, tears squeezing out from the corner of her eyes. She can’t remember the last time she’s laughed this hard. The Doctor grins back at her, the same warm and familiar smile she remembers underscored by the raw intensity smouldering in his eyes. "Make me.” "Maybe I will." She hooks her leg over his calf and rolls on top of him, gasping when she feels him grind purposefully against her. His fingers gently brush a strand of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear before he leans up to kiss her, the tip of his tongue gently teasing the seam of her lips. "Maybe you should."

Chained by Aeolist

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Eyebrows, Chains, Hangovers Length: 5,534 Chapters: 1/1

After a night out on the planet Delphon, Rose and the Doctor wake up in an unusual predicament.

In Lovers Meeting by @lastbluetardis

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Romance, Reunions, Reunion Sex, Telepathy, Telepathic Bond, Episode Fix-It: s04e13 Journey's End Length: 3,165 Chapters: 1/1

What would have happened if Rose shot that Dalek on the street in "The Stolen Earth"?

Senses Only Divide Us by tenscupcake

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Hurt/Comfort, Telepathy, Sensory Deprivation Length: 8,185 Chapters: 1/1

When the Doctor is rendered temporarily blind and deaf by a hostile sect of aliens, Rose discovers the only way to comfort him is through touch.

time, wondrous time by crybabie

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Reunions, Reunion Sex, Wall Sex, Clothed Sex, First Time Length: 3,590 Chapters: 1/1

Rose unlocks the door to their room and tugs him in with her, pressing the door shut behind them. And just like that, they’re alone for the first time in too many years. It hits them both at once and for half a second, they stare at each other in silence. Then they’re all motion.

Exposure by @thirdeyeblue

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Romance, Smut, First Time, Huddling For Warmth Length: 10,995 Chapters: 1/1

Out on a snowy hike, the Doctor and Rose get lost and quickly find themselves in danger. With night upon them and temperatures dropping fast, staying warm becomes a matter of survival.

Believe by @leftennant

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Smuff, Smangst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance Length: 3,258 Chapters: 1/1

Rose is holding her breath, not wanting to break the spell he’s weaving with his fingers. He’s jumped from her hand to her hip, using his palm to slowly travel a course up her side. The breath she’s been holding makes a shaky escape. She doesn’t know what he’s thinking or even if he’s fully awake, but these gentle touches are so lovely and she doesn’t want them to stop.

As Soon As We're Alone by @thirdeyeblue

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Established Relationship, Jealousy, Romance, Smut, Rough Sex, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk Length: 11,070 Chapters: 1/1

She still felt the same rush each time his lips slid against hers, each time his fingertips brushed and dragged across heated skin. Each time he clutched desperately at her, like he feared he might still lose her — even after all this time. And oh, was he clutching now.

Coaster Castles (and other sturdy defenses) by bendingsignpost

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Out Of Order First Time, Angst, So Much Angst Length: 7,772 Chapters: 1/1

He's only a bloke in a bar, but he's a bloke in a bar who needs her.

Doors, Wall, Window by @kscribbles

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Sex Pollen, Dubious Consent, Smut, Oral Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Outdoor Sex Length: 4,036 Chapters: 1/1

Drug or no drug, she could be forgiven for wanting to tear his damned suit off.

a little like daybreak by @metacrisisdoctor

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Established Relationship, Morning Sex, Consensual Somnophilia, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Multiple Orgasms Length: 3,431 Chapters: 1/1

Rose has never been a morning person. The Doctor would like to change that.

as long as you want it by @sadcoms

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Loss Of Virginity, Idiots In Love, First Time, Oral Sex, Fluff and Smut Length: 11,060 Chapters: 1/1

The Doctor has a plan: he is going to seduce Rose Tyler if it kills him. Sounds like a brilliant way to go, actually.

Or I'll Bite by @goingtothetardis

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Confined Spaces, Fondling, Tickling, Fingering, Teasing, Blow Jobs Length: 1,243 Chapters: 1/1

Playful teasing in a tiny closet makes things harder than they ever imagined.

Be My Jack by @khaelisfics

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Porn Without Plot, Fluff and Smut Length: 3,049 Chapters: 1/1

The Doctor and Rose find themselves in trouble again. They have to hide in a car, and Rose feels the urge to improvise a remake of that one scene she loves. "Have you ever watched Titanic, Doctor?"

Tricks of the Metacrisis Mind by cereal

Rating: Teen Relationship: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Kissing Length: 700 Chapters: 1/1

Sometimes though, it all shuts down, his mind and his body in perfect bliss, because there are six types of Rose Tyler kisses and the Doctor knows them all.

Buoyant by @goingtothetardis

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Under The Influence, Grinding, Clubbing, Oral Sex Length: 826 Chapters: 1/1

He’d twirled away from her in a flurry of nonsensical words, and tired of the game, she’d asked him for a drink.

Shiver by tenscupcake

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Smut, Fluff, Telepathy Length: 9,999 Chapters: 1/1

When she and the Doctor fall through some thin ice because of a faulty landing, a very cold and frustrated Rose just wants to huddle by the fireplace alone, but he doesn't want to leave her side.

More Than Sex by @kelkat9

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Alien Sex, Posessive Behavior, Jealousy, Romance Length: 6,534 Chapters: 1/1

The Doctor takes Rose to a celebration of color; beyond fun and dancing, something lingers in the Doctor's eyes. Rose feels it even if she doesn't understand until a moment of jealousy clarifies there's more happening than a possessive Doctor or a celebration of color. On the TARDIS, feelings are revealed and the truth of who they are and what they mean to each other cannot be denied.

Forever by fadewithfury

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: First Time, Romance, Angst, Emotional Sex Length: 5,092 Chapters: 1/1

The Doctor and Rose spend the night together after she says 'forever.'

Break Even by @rudennotgingr

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: PWP, Angst, Smut, Romance Length: 6,069 Chapters: 1/1

Rose flirts their way out of trouble, resulting in a very jealous Doctor. Really just an excuse for jealous!Doctor and smut.

Just One Room by PaleEmeraldNebula

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: PWP, Romance, Fluff, Telepathic Sex Length: 4,647 Chapters: 1/1

When Rose and the Doctor decide to share a hotel room for the night, instead of going directly to Torchwood after being left on Bad Wolf Bay, the Doctor surprises her by insisting on one room with only one bed…

Short Multichapter Fics (< 10 Chapters)

Peppermint Tea by @thirdeyeblue

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: First Time, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Sickfic, Edging Length: 20,378 Chapters: 2/2

A very sick Doctor leans on Rose as he recovers. While she nurses him back to health, they grow closer than they've ever been before... But not without a bit of tension, of course.

A Splash of Orange, A Thread of Gold by Abelina

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Shower Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Telepathy Length: 11,369 Chapters: 2/2

‘Run’ was a beginning. This is where we stop running. Rose and the Doctor in the aftermath of Krop Tor.

Journeys End In Lovers Meeting by @lastbluetardis

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Romance, Angst, Reunions, Episode Fix-It: s04e13 Journey's End, Telepathy Length: 7,080 Chapters: 2/2

After being separated shortly after agreeing to a marriage bond, the Doctor and Rose find their way back to each other and try to pick up their relationship where they left off—after saving the multiverse from a Dalek attack, of course.

'cause it's gravity (keeping you with me) by crybabie

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Reunions, Fluff, First Time, Blow Jobs, Grinding, Semi-Public Sex, Chair Sex Length: 5,895 Chapters: 2/2

“We saved the universe, but at a cost. And that cost is him.” The Doctor rolls his eyes at himself. Has he always sounded so sanctimonious? It’s agony to be on the receiving end. “He’s you!” Rose insists. ... A slight AU in which Rose immediately accepts the part-human Doctor, actively chooses to stay with him in Pete's World, and gets a better sort of goodbye.

A Leap of Faith by @elialys

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, First Time, Post-Coital Cuddling Length: 8,418 Chapters: 2/2

"As Rose stares back at him and more seconds pass slowly, almost sluggishly, the potent energy that comes with their most recent ‘I’ve almost lost you’ scare pulses between them, embedding them both with a pull that feels almost magnetic. Rose blames that pull for soon finding herself in his arms again, her forehead pressed to his shoulder, his embrace as strong as it’s been every other time he’s hugged her today. She doesn’t mind this mutual clinginess, all too happy to reciprocate, even if her feet don’t leave the ground, this time; there is no laughter either, only the tight hold of his arms around her, her fingers clenching the fabric of his jacket, revelling in that tangible proof that he is here." After 'The Satan Pit', Rose and the Doctor comfort one another.

all my days i'll know your face by crybabie

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Reunions, Romantic Sex, Fluff and Smut, Riding, Cunnilingus, First Time, Dirty Talk Length: 5,899 Chapters: 2/2

Donna was suddenly thrilled that she’d caught a glimpse of a photo taped to the Doctor’s desktop during her first adventure on the TARDIS. (In which the Doctor was just a little more heartsick over the loss of Rose, and it makes all the difference.)

Scratching the Itch by bendingsignpost

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: First Time, Alien Biology Length: 19,689 Chapters: 3/3

Her mum had always told her that blokes had only one thing on their minds, but this was taking it to an entirely new level.

All That Stuff We're So Scared Of by ABadPlanWellExecuted

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Drunkenness, Drunk Kissing, Romance, Explicit Sexual Content Length: 14,275 Chapters: 3/3

Set post-TIP/TSP. The Doctor gets drunk and argues about religion with the Holy Brotherhood of San Klah. Rose helps. Barriers come down, and so forth.

First Night of Forever by @skyler10fic

Rating: Teen Relationship: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Romance, Nightmares, Angst, Humor, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort Length: 6,338 Chapters: 3/3

Tentoo is amazed and a little shocked by how well his optimistic Rose is taking the events of Bad Wolf Bay II, but when he sees how much she’s been hurting without him the last few years, he understands why.

Washed Up Together by @thirdeyeblue

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Romance, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Mutual Pining, Explicit Sexual Content, Dirty Talk Length: 20,998 Chapters: 3/3

Not long after being left on Bad Wolf Bay, the Doctor and Rose quietly contemplate why their relationship has yet to progress.

For All We're Worth by @thirdeyeblue

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Truth Serum, Sharing a Bed, First Time, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Dirty Talk, First Orgasm Ever Length: 31,695 Chapters: 4/4

“You do realize this place is for couples,” Rose said flatly. “You’ve taken us to a couples resort.”

Don't Leave Me Hanging on the Telephone by @leftennant

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Smut, Smuff, Sex Pollen, Romance, Fluff Length: 8,857 Chapters: 4/4

“Rose, the rain,” he said running his fingers through his dripping hair, “it’s an aphrodisiac."

Desperate Measures by @demdifferentstories-29

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Shag or Die, Love Confessions, Smut, Mutual Pining, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fake Marriage, Sexual Tension, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Intimacy, Friends to Lovers, Body Worship Length: 26,976 Chapters: 4/4

The Doctor and Rose make a dodgy landing on an unintended planet and seek shelter and help. But what happens when it is discovered that Rose is an 'unclaimed' woman, and what lengths does the Doctor go to to protect her from being forced to contribute to the planet's dwindling population?

Speechless by @wyndampryce

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Smut, Shameless Smut, Dirty Talk, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, First Time, Romance Length: 17,535 Chapters: 5/5

When the Doctor left Rose and his identical counterpart on a grim, isolated beach in Norway, what if he took more with him than just the beloved TARDIS they called home, the entirety of time and space, and their ability to decide their future for themselves? What if he accidentally took the new human Doctor's ability to communicate, too? Without a TARDIS to translate for him, the Doctor finds himself at a loss for words, unable to communicate with an uncertain Rose right when he needs her most. With the life they've always deserved nearly within reach, the two of them must figure out how to bridge this one last divide. If they've done it before, surely they can do it again, can't they? After all, at least this time, they can touch...

Little Gallifrey by Endelda, @licieoic

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Alternate Universe, Food Critic, Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Cooking, Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Kitchen Sex Length: 31,757 Chapters: 6/6

Little Gallifrey is a popular London restaurant, owned and led by the Doctor, who runs front of house and creates all the recipes. Rose Tyler is a regular patron who has become more of a friend after all her visits, who puts up with the Doctor's whinging that his favorite food critic, Bad Wolf, has never come to his restaurant. Or, he thinks she hasn't.

The Lame Shall Enter First by @lastbluetardis

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Romance, Angst, Episode: s02e13 Doomsday, Post-Episode AU: s02e013 Doomsday, Hurt/Comfort, Telepathy Length: 23,049 Chapters: 6/6

Rose could not be gone. He still needed her. He was a bloody Time Lord, after all. The laws of the universe obeyed him, the universe owed him, and this time, he would not sit idly by while everything he loved was taken from him.

Stepford by cereal

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Explicit Sexual Content Length: 28,622 Chapters: 6/6

"Oh, come on, you know what I mean, that sort of thing is always happening on the telly. Take two attractive people, mix in a little tension, stick ‘em in a single bedroom for ratings, stir and repeat."

Idle Hands by Aeolist, @thebadddestwolf

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Length: 19,143 Chapters: 6/6

The prompt: The Doctor hurts his hands and needs Rose’s assistance when it comes to, well, a lot.

Across the Void by @elialys

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Episode Fix-It: s02e13 Doomsday, Reunion, Light Angst, Romance, Slow Burn, First Time, Telepathic Bond, Telepathic Sex, Length: 26,945 Chapters: 7/7

"Can't you come through properly?" "The whole thing would fracture. Two universes would collapse." "So?" In which Rose Tyler presses a button.

Long Multichapter Fics (> 10 Chapters)

Calluses by @elialys

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Angst, Romance, Angst With A Happy Ending, Post-Episode: s04e13 Journey's End, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Introspection, First Time, Sharing a Bed Length: 38,876 Chapters: 10/10

"There’s a man in a blue suit standing somewhere behind her, a man wearing a face she loves, who whispered all the right words, yet she doesn’t know what to do."  Immediate follow-up to 4x13, in which the (metacrisis) Doctor and Rose deal with the physical, emotional and psychological fallouts of having been left behind at Bad Wolf Bay.

A Shop Girl With A Broken Fob Watch by @licieoic

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Alec Hardy/Rose Tyler Main tags: Fobwatched, Crossover, Alternate Universe Length: 30,864 Chapters: 10/10

Following an emergency landing in the Dorset town of Broadchurch, the Doctor must hide his Time Lord self inside a fob watch to escape some vicious hunters, leaving Rose to look after his human self, Alec Hardy.

Texts and Relative Documents in Supply by @demdifferentstories-29

Rating: Mature Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Friends to Lovers, Abusive Relationships, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Non-Con, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Trauma, Healing, Love Confessions, Strangers to Lovers Length: 53,094 Chapters: 10/10

Rose Tyler has always taken note of the blue door on the strip of shops near her job at Henrick’s, but has never had a chance to step inside. But when she needs to get away from her abusive boyfriend for the night, it’s the only place that’s open, and she befriends the eccentric owner, Doctor John Smith (scientist by day, bookshop owner by night). As she starts to visit his little shop, he begins to learn that Rose is a wonderfully intriguing creature, and she tries to keep her dark secrets hidden from her newfound friend.

The Wind By Night by tripwirealarm

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Explicit Sexual Content Length: 66,773 Chapters: 12/12

An uncalibrated reentry into the parallel universe plays havok with material spacetime in the hours after the arrival in Pete's World, forcing Rose and the Doctor into some time alone with their reservations, reflections and each other. But things may not be as easily sorted as the Doctor projects, because time is deterministic, and there is no such thing as an accident.

Careful Surrender by tenscupcake

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Telepathy, Hurt/Comfort, Angst Length: 158,032 Chapters: 19/19

Shaken after the events on Sanctuary Base of Krop Tor and haunted by the memory of losing each other, the Doctor and Rose are driven into each other's arms. As they begin to tear down the meticulously constructed walls the Doctor has built around their relationship, he is forced to confront the reasons he put them up in the first place, but the demons of his past stifle his attempts to open up to her. The pair walks a tenuous line on the threshold of emotional and physical intimacy, and though tension builds and their frustration intensifies, neither of them is entirely prepared for what may happen once they travel beyond the boundaries of friendship.

Sacred New Beginnings by @lastbluetardis

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Alternate Universe, Romance, Meet-Cute, Hurt/Comfort, Angst Length: 118,733 Chapters: 21/?

James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Bloodstream by @thirdeyeblue

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: First Time, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Dirty Talk, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Shag or Die, Idiots in Love Length: 201,137 Chapters: 27/27

The Doctor and Rose are taken captive on a planet ravaged by a mysterious illness. In order to be freed, they have to cross major boundaries in their friendship. Forced into physical intimacy against their will, they’re left to confront the true nature of their relationship... And save the world, of course.

One Crowded Hour by @allegoricalrose

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Unplanned Pregnancy, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Sharing A Bed Length: 108,588 Chapters: 27/27

"Doctor? Why am I crying?" An hour is missing from both of their memories and Rose is pregnant: the repercussions.

Knock Three Times by @jellyneau-xo

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Length: 104,241 Chapters: 29/29

Two perfect strangers wake to find themselves being held in adjacent prison cells with no memories of who they are or how they got there. It isn’t until they are faced with agonizing trials that push the limits of self-sacrifice to new horrific heights, that they realize just what they’re facing and how much they will need to trust each other in order to survive.

Heeled by @jellyneau-xo

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Explicit Sexual Content Length: 101,782 Chapters: 30/30

There he was. The ‘Oncoming Storm’...caught, caged, and clad only in his pants...reduced to trying to look adorable enough to adopt in an effort to gain his freedom. But adoption isn’t the ticket to freedom the Doctor hoped it would be, and he discovers that if he wants to obtain it, he will will have to make some decisions that could easily change not only his and Rose’s lives, but the lives of all those on an entire planet as well.

Electrostatic Potential by tenscupcake

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Romance, Telepathy, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Length: 190,665 Chapters: 37/37

As the Doctor and Rose traverse time and space looking for adventure, they slowly fall victim to a mysterious energy that can manipulate their emotions. Though confused and unnerved by the cerebral affliction, neither of them understands its cause, or realizes that it could jeopardize their friendship. What will it take for them to discover the truth?

Finding Forever by Hawkerin, @thedoctormulder

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Main tags: Episode Fix-It: s02e13 Doomsday Length: 136,962 Chapters: 42/42

At the very last moment, Rose found another handhold to save herself from falling into the Void. Can she and the Doctor manage to live the forever that she promised? A series three rewrite, coauthored by Hawkerin and TheDoctorMulder.

[kyeomszone]

good graces ○ lee dokyeom

tags. jealousy. avoiding ppl as a coping mechanism. stupidity. some semblance of a plot. jealous sex. dom/sub undertones. name calling. handjob. penetrative sex (vaginal). orgasm denial.

synopsis. after sleeping with your ex (?), the last thing you wish to do is come across him. But fate has other plans, and you find yourself watching him with another woman, green tinting your vision as he smiles at her.

series masterlist.

You are not jealous.

You do not get jealous.

And yet, you remained frozen in your spot, jaw clenched as you stared at the scene playing out in front of you with narrowed eyes  It was as if you were being compelled to watch, unable to tear your eyes away from the soft warmth in Seokmin’s eyes or the pretty flush on the woman’s cheeks.

You can feel your pulse racing the longer you look, a sick thing curling in your chest the longer you keep looking. And you hate it, hate feeling this way again, hate the tightness in your chest, hate the crawl under your skin, hate the tint of green in your mind, hate the way he’s starting to have an effect on you again. You hate it.

You swallow around the lump in your throat, taking a small sip of your champagne, hoping the bubbly will help with the turmoil inside you and despite how much you wish, you can not look away from him.

You had been doing so well since that night, after having taken your statement back at the court, you had made sure to not come across him. You had avoided any mention of him anywhere and this gala had been one of the events you were sure he would not attend. 

After all, what would Lee Seokmin be doing in the midst of Fortune 500 CEOs? A group of people he’s stood against since the very start of his career?

And yet, he’s here, flirting with one of the CEOs of a company, the same type of person he’s had a trial against just a week ago.

“That’s DA Lee, isn’t it?” You hear an amused voice pipe up next to you. With a frown on your lips, you turn your head to note who it is and he’s familiar enough for you to know his face but not enough for a name. “Always knew he wasn’t an angel.” He ends with a laugh.

“What do you mean?” You bite out at what his tone implied, nearly bristling at his words. There’s intrigue in your tone but the sharpness that slips in is lost on you, not that you notice, eyes too busy with the scene in front of you to see the curious glance the man gives you.

“You don’t know?” The man asked, confusion written in his words. At your ticked eyebrow, he elaborates, “There is a reason that DA Lee keeps being invited to these events despite his reputation. It’s an open secret, the fact that he protects certain companies.”

You stare at him, baffled. You very well remember the early days of Seokmin’s career, following along to the countless news articles written about him despite wanting to stray as far away from him as you could. You remembered every one of his interviews, what he had stated, you could recite them verbatim and everything contradicted what the man was telling you.

“The woman he’s flirting with right?” You nod and the man continues “She owns B Pharmacitucals and it’s rumoured she’s to be charged with━ ”

“Excuse me,” You grit out when you spot the way Seokmin tucks a strand of hair behind the woman’s ears and trailing down her face, his touch delicate and you can also feel it, can feel the phantom touch of his. The long fingers, soft and slightly calloused from guitar strings on tracing the contours of your face each night back then.

Your steps are deliberate, heels clicking loudly against the marble floor as you walk towards Seokmin who seems to have spotted you, looking at you with a small smirk on his face━  his attention solely on you as if the woman he had just been talking to didn’t exist.

“Did you drink?” You ask, your words forced polite and at the shake of his head, your fingers wrap around his wrist, pulling him away, completely uncaring of the indigent gasp the woman lets out or Seokmin’s own protests━  not that he says anything, just stares at you with something indecipherable in his eyes as he follows along.

You finally stop once you are out of the hotel, waiting for your car to arrive. Your fingers are still wrapped around his wrist━  and neither of you speak on it. It feels almost natural to leave it there.

“Put the partition up,” you order your driver as soon as you and Seokmin get in and you’re on Seokmin the moment the window is up━  thighs bracketing his hips, lips on his, tongue slipping in his mouth and nails digging into the nape of his neck as you hold his face. His own hands find themselves on your waist, a moan falling from his lips at the sting of your nails.

“Wh━ ” Seokmin starts when you pull away, the burn in your lungs too incessant to ignore but you interrupt him, tugging at his bottom lips with your teeth, thumb pressing against the hollow of his neck.

“Shut up,” You pant out, resting your forehead against his as you take in large gulps of air. “Shut up,” you sneer, leaning in for another kiss━ this time all teeth and tongue, nails digging in deeper, his moans getting louder when you press against the growing bulge, his hands moving from your waist to your bare thighs. 

Mentally, you send a thank you to your stylist for dressing you in a dress with a slit high enough for Seokmin’s hands to slip in and curl around the bare skin of your waist, the heat of his palm burning against yours but all you can think of when you feel the slight callouses against you is his touch on that woman.

It sends a jolt of anger through your veins, and what can only be described as possessiveness curls in your chest━  despite how misplaced it might be. You had no claim on him, no right to feel any of what you are feeling, but you can’t help yourself as an ugly mix of anger and jealousy makes itself home in you.

One of your hands moves from his neck to the tent in his pants, pressing against the bulge making him hiss in pain that turns into a groan.

“Fucking whore,” You mumble against his lips, pressing harder and making him throw his head back against the seat, mouth falling open. You let out a sharp huff of laughter tinged with mockery, “telling me I lost my morals while you were about to fuck that bitch.”

“I━ ”

“Shut up,” you snarl, kissing him again as you press your body flush against his, your heart drumming in your ears. Your hands work at his tie, tugging it loose and popping one of the buttons open to give you access to the rich tan of his skin. Your mouth leaves his to latch onto the junction of where his neck meets his shoulder, sucking at the hard muscle.

You stay there for a while, biting and sucking on his neck until the green tint of jealousy starts to lessen into just an inkling on the back of your head━  the idea that anyone that would look at him would know that he belonged to someone soothing the ugly thing rearing it’s head in you.

A knock at the window has you pulling away from him and it takes you a minute to realise the car has stopped moving, likely meaning it has arrived at your place. You pull away, taking in the sight of Seokmin━ his kiss-bitten lips, the mess of your red lipstick on his mouth and neck, the scratches and splotches that would bloom into bruises, the hazy look in his eyes and the flush on his cheeks.

You slide off his lap, fixing your dress before knocking back on the window, letting the driver know to open the door. You step out, Seokmin following behind and you can’t help but notice the way his ears burn when your driver pointedly avoids looking at the two of you.

You’re on him as soon as the door closes behind you, lips on his, stumbling back towards the staircase as your hands tug at the blazer, pulling it off of him, followed by his shirt. Your hands trail down from his shoulders, nails catching on the brown buds making him moan, fingers caressing the dips of his body, palming at the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. His hands pull at the strap of your dress, tugging them from your shoulders and down to your arms.

You only pull away when you’re at the stairs, climbing up the steps until you’re at your bedroom door. 

“Hands to yourself,” you snap when he frees you of your dress, the fabric pooling at your feet leaving you in your underwear and heels. Seokmin stares at you for a second, his eyes dazed as he takes in the sight of you and you can feel a lump form in your throat when you properly notice whats written on his face. 

He hasn’t looked at you in this way since.. since━ 

“Seokmin,” you snap, your tone coming out harsher as you glare at him, ignoring the heaviness starting to take root in you.

He blinks at your tone, takes a beat to process what you stated and before he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing at the action. “Why….?”

The two of you remember very well that the only time you took control was when you were angry, really truly angry. And it’s humiliating to admit to yourself that even though it has been years since the two of you parted ways, he still has the same hold on you. It’s even more humiliating to admit that to him, to admit that you were jealous when he was interacting with that woman.

“I don’t want your hands on me,” you start, carefully picking your words to make it seem as if you weren’t seething, that at one point in the evening, all you could see was green, that at some point you weren’t contemplating marching to him and kissing him until he was putty in your hands in front of the whole room. 

“I don’t want the hands that touched a psychopath, that launders with blood money.” You sneer, recalling what the man told you. What you don’t realise is the gravity of your words or the way he flinches.

Seokmin swallows again but nods, his hands settling at his sides.

You take a breath before pushing him back until his legs hit the frame of the bed. Your hands move to unbuckle his belt, one hand pulling the trousers down alongside his boxers while the other wraps around the thick head of his cock, stroking the slit and spreading the precum. He moans at the action, his face flushing a prettier shade of red as you run your hand along the length of him, nails scratching along the veins.

You keep stroking his length until you can see the shake in his thighs, until his cock is rod straight, flushed a violent red and leaking.

“Lay down,” you tell him, taking your underwear and heels off as you climb onto the bed after him, settling on his lap. His hands settle beside him digging onto the bedspread to stop from reaching out to you, knuckles turning white from the effort. Not that you notice, too busy with taking his cock and running the head along your folds, gathering the wetness.

“Tell me when you’re about to cum,” You order and at his nod, you line him to your hole and sink down. A soft moan leaves your lips at the stretch, the sound mixing with the groan from Seokmin whose whole body arches, head pushing into the mattress and fingers tightening on the bedspread as you continue to take him in you completely.

You pant softly when you finally bottom out, a glance at Seokmin shows his clenched eyes, bottom lip in between his teeth as he holds back his noises. You roll your hips when you finally adjust to having him in you, Seokmin immediately moaning out your name at the action, the noises getting louder as when you start to move, lifting yourself up before sinking back down.

You keep your pace slow, deliberately so despite knowing your thighs will start to burn soon, the noises he’s making are like music to your ears, helping settle the jealousy that had settled into your bones.

You keep moving, rolling your hips, positioning until he opens his mouth, breathes out that he’s close and suddenly, all movements are put to a pause. You hold back a noise at the empty feeling in you instead focusing on the way Seokmin whines when you take his cock out, denying him his orgasm.

A beat passes and then two, Seokmin’s chest rises and falls rapidly, fingers digging further into the fabric and you can feel his stomach muscles twitch. When all the signs of his impending orgasm start to lessen, you take his cock in you again, moaning at the way it hits your cervix, pushing to the deepest parts of you.

“Fuck,” you moan out, throwing your head back as you start to move again, your pants mixing with his breathy moans that slowly turn into broken little noises the longer you keep moving, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. 

This time, you stop before he says anything, noting the way his thighs twitch, the way his hips jerk up to fuck into you, the way his stomach starts to cave in, his moans more air than noise. Another whine falls from his lips at the lack of movements from you as you deny him his release, the sound more pitiful this time but unlike before, you don’t take his cock out.

You stare at the way water gathers in his lashes, his eyes wide and hazy and simmering like something out of a painting and you have to bite your lips to stop yourself from leaning down and kissing him softly.

The two of you don’t do this, not anymore, not after━

You start to move again, one of your hands moving from his stomach to your core, pressing against your cilt, rubbing at the nub until you can feel the coil in your stomach tighten and tighten and━

A moan falls from your lips as you clench down around Seokmin’s thick length, the man moaning in return due to it as your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes flutter close as you fuck yourself through your orgasm, the tightness of your walls pushing Seokmin closer and closer to the edge and━

His lips shape your name as he lets go, emptying out inside of you as his orgasm hits. His eyes clench shut, hips jerking up and stomach caving in as you keep moving until he’s telling you to stop. 

An exhausted breath falls from you as you roll off of him, almost collapsing next to him. Your thighs are burning and your cunt is leaking his cum but exhaustion had settled too deep in your bones for you to do anything more than curl into the heat of Seokmin’s body as your eyes flutter shut.

In the morning, you wake up to an empty bed. Seokmin taking the warmth of your skin with him.

A heaviness sits in your chest and you settle on a decision.