#that’s WHY i think his soul stuff is tied to sex . like he’s just so guilty about it

[fuctacles]

Dude, That's My Ghost!

A @steddieexchange fic for @hellfireloserclub !! I hope you like it. The whole first chapter is up on Ao3.

E | ~9k | no cw | Soulmates AU, Supernatural Elements, Magical Bonds, Ghost Sex, No UD, Magical Bonds | more tags on Ao3! | beta read by @blasvemous <3

Disappearing Act

The Universe is an amazing creation. In its vastness, it gives you a Soulmate, so you don't feel alone despite your brief and meaningless existence. It may not be perfect, but it's thoughtful, and that's more than you can say about its inhabitants.

And yet, in this benevolent Universe, there is Steve Harrington.

"Ah."

He's standing in front of a guy, their hands outstretched and bare, their Soul-marks visible. At least what's left of them. 

Steve watches in horror as the swarm of bats moves around his skin in panic, vanishing one by one as if sucked into his body. They've been with him for years and now they're just... gone.

When he looks up at the man he's just met, the nail bat on his forearm has vanished as well. He looks more surprised than terrified, though, twisting his arm curiously.

"Well..." He purses his lips. "I'm sorry, mate." He shrugs. "It was nice meeting you."

And before Steve can grab him, or collect himself at all, the man disappears into the crowd. He doesn't feel anymore the tether that helped him find the man in the first place. It's all gone. The Soul-mark, the connection, his Soulmate. Who was clearly right in front of him just a minute ago.

What the fuck had just happened?

Nobody has an answer for him. As far as he knows, it has never happened before, ever. Steve Harrington must be just a special kind of fucked up, hated by the universe. Destined to be unloved. Even though for a brief moment, he wasn't. For a second, he felt whole, with his Soulmate right in front of him, within reach of his hand, but as soon as their palms touched... it disappeared.

There are people without them, but no one whose mark would vanish, like a candy yanked out of a kid's hand. And every day Steve wonders, why him? In a world where everyone was leaving him, where having someone tied to him was his only hope, the only chance for love, why him?

He had left that music festival, where he met the man supposedly destined for him, right after, to grieve his loss in the solitude of his apartment. It felt like a piece of his soul had been torn out and something inside him ached, open and bleeding, with no way to patch it up.

The taped boxes of Robin's stuff were like an additional kick in the gut. She was leaving him soon too, off to live with her soulmate, which she gets to have. He loves it for her, of course he does, but it was easier to do knowing there was someone out there for him as well.

To not think about it, he finally focused on what he's been putting away ever since Robin said she was moving in with Vickie. Looking for a new place, a one-person apartment for himself, and nobody else. It takes over a month, but when he finds it, he finds it. He knows it's the place he wants to call home.

It's shit. 

A small apartment carved from an unused attic space, perfect for a desperate single student. The bathroom barely fits a shower and a toilet and doesn't have any space left for a sink. He has to wash his hands in the kitchen, or the space that he's supposed to call one. It's a little far from college but in a pinch, he could cash in on Robin's promise that he's always welcome at her new place, which is just a short walk away from their school.

It's perfect.

Even if Robin asks him once if he's punishing himself for something that's not his fault, like a really weird interpretation of a martyr. But he just opens his tiny window and lets her listen to the birds from the park below. All she can hear from her windows are the honking cars and yells of the students trying to get the best parking spot. And that's a point for the 'you rule' column as far as he's concerned.

The place has one more perk she doesn't know of and he's not sure which column it would classify in.

Because he's sharing it with a ghost.

It's almost alarming how quickly he accepts it. One day he's listening to music to unwind, and the next he finds a note on his desk telling him his taste in music is shit.

"Hello?" he asks to the room as a whole. Nobody could hide there. There simply wasn't enough space.

His eyes widen when his pen moves.

You won't see me, it writes. Can you play a rock station?

Steve only blinks.

"Uh, sure," he says, staring at the pen. "Do you know the frequency?"

He gets a few numbers in response and reaches for the dials of the radio to set it up. Soon, a song he doesn't recognize fills out the cramped space.

"This okay?"

Yes. Thank you so much.

Thoughtfully, Steve pulls out a notebook and opens it on a blank page.

"Are you a ghost?" he asks, staring at the faint blue lines.

What's a ghost, Steve? appears the message, slightly crooked despite the clear guidelines. The handwriting somehow fits the vibe of the music playing from the radio. 

"How do you know my name?" he frowns at the words.

It's all over your books?

"Fair," Steve huffs, sitting heavily by his desk. "I don't know, a dead person?" he answers the previous question.

Well, I didn't die. So. Not a ghost I guess.

"Then what?"

What's left when your body is taken away from you?

Steve's frown deepens. What is this, an impromptu quiz test?

"Uh, a soul?"

Then that's what I am, probably.

"So where's your body?" Steve asks, perplexed.

Some asshole demon took it.

"A demon?" he asks flatly, raising his eyebrows.

You're talking to a floating pen and the demon is what's unbelievable?

"Well, I'm sorry I'd rather not believe demons exist!" Steve scoffs, throwing his arms up.

Sorry to break it to you buddy but they do. And I've learned it the hard way.

"Yeah, I can tell," he murmurs.

Don't be sassy with me, I'll break all your mugs.

"We're not summoning a demon."

"Okay, sheesh. No need for violence." Steve rolls his eyes. "So, what happened?"

"We're not summoning a demon because they don't exist," Jeff elaborates.

"How about some make-believe, hm?" Eddie puts his hands on his hips, clearly disappointed in his bandmates. "A bonding activity to boost morale?"

"You know what would boost morale?" Gareth points his drumstick at him. "Band practice."

"Fine!" Eddie throws his hands in the air. "I'll do it myself, but don't cry later when I'll be the only one blessed by the metal gods!"

"We won't," Doug assures him dryly.

"So it's gods or demons after all? Can't pick a side?"

Eddie flips them off with both hands before grabbing his guitar. He knows they are right, though. Only practice and improvement can give them a chance at the next battle of the bands. They were already so close to winning this year and were slowly becoming recognizable in the city. Getting there was slow but reachable, which was not how Eddie usually does things.

That's why, even if it's just for the peace of his own mind, a spiritual placebo, if you will, he grabs himself a beer and pulls out his D&D notes. He did way too much research on demons for his last campaign not to have some fun with it.

The instructions are cheesy, but it's exactly what he needs—something in good fun and on theme, even if it was supposed to be a group activity. He copies all the symbols, and chants, and draws blood. With his eyes squeezed shut, he makes his wish.

"Whoever is listening, help my band make it big."

The old wooden beams creak with their age. Nothing happens.

He opens his eyes, blinking to clear his vision, and realizes he's relieved. Summoning an infernal being to his little attic apartment didn't sound as thrilling as he had been selling to his friends earlier that day. To be honest, he just wanted to do some weird metal shit with his band that they could later talk about in interviews. "We sold our souls for this album," would be a bonkers headline for the front page.

"That can be arranged."

Eddie shrieks.

He grabs tighter the knife he's still holding from his blood sacrifice and turns around. There on his bed, criss-crossed and relaxed, sits a creature of nightmares.

"What the fuck?!" Eddie's voice doesn't sound as deep and intimidating as he'd like it to.

"You summoned me," the intruder deadpans.

"Oh. Oh, right." It doesn't make him any less terrified. "Uh, what do you want?" he stammers, hoping to get the demon out of his space as soon as possible. He wants to call the boys, would love to hear Gareth's annoying voice right about now, actually.

"For your wish? I want in."

Eddie frowns.

"In?"

And then I held up my guitar and told him to hop in but he hopped into my body instead and here we are.

"You ever heard of a cursed instrument?"

Steve stares at the string of words. And stares. And stares.

I know I'm stupid you don't have to tell me.

"Oh thank god, because I didn't want to make you feel even worse."

He looks around the place and slowly points at the bed.

"So, that demon, was sitting on the same bed I slept in last night?'

Not on these covers, obviously, but yes.

"Holy shit." Steve feels himself shudder with cold dread. He knows all of this might be a lie, since there is no way for him to fact-check it, but the idea is disturbing enough. "And the summoning circle?" He looks down at the floorboards below his socked feet.

It was about here, but I guess the bastard cleaned it. Took all my shit with him too.

"So he's just living your life now?"

I'd guess so.

"Have you looked for him?"

Buddy the first thing I remember since then is waking up to you moving in

Steve frowns.

"What?"

Shit. What year is it?

"1986," he answers, his frown deepening.

Thank gods. Summer?

"September. The new semester just started. What the fuck, man, when did this happen?"

Spring break. Just a few months ago, apparently.

"That's half a year!" Steve points out. "And you were what, just, unconscious this whole time?"

Yeah. Maybe you helped, I don't know. Was someone else living here?

He shakes his head.

"I was told the previous tenant left without a word and they haven't even noticed at first."

Can't imagine a demon knowing the intricacies of renting an apartment.

It's normal for about two days, as far as living with a ghost can be. But it all spirals one night when Steve feels something touch him when he's trying to fall asleep.

Wait. What about my deposit?!

He jerks back in alarm and pulls back the covers but sees no stray items left there. Takes another look around, checking if something fell from the mattress, but sees nothing. He settles down against his pillow.

"Eddie?" he asks quietly.

He almost faints when the radio cracks to life. The dials switch and rotate and through the white noise of static, come bits of songs and voices until one breaks through.

"...what?..."

"This isn't happening..." Steve mutters to himself, eyes wide. "You could talk this whole time?!"

"...had no idea...you just...annoy me so much...had to speak up..."

"What the fuck, man?!"

"...let me sleep..."

"You sleep?!" He's fully awake now himself. "Why? What for?"

"...maybe you...drain my energy...with George Michael..."

"Fuck away from George Michael!" his voice cracks, now on the edge of hysterics.

"...you fuck away...was here first..."

"Yeah, and you fucked it up!"

Right after he says it, something falls on his chest, pinning him to the mattress.

"...low blow Steve..."

Steve blinks at the nothingness around him. On top of him. He feels no weight, no touch, but something isn't letting him move. His confused senses make his brain overheat.

"You can touch me?"

He feels the sting of a slap on his cheek, but he's too confused to feel pain.

"Ow?" is all he manages to say.

"...yup..."

The thing on top of him shifts, now off his chest but pinning him from the waist down, like someone is straddling him. He reaches up with his hands, searching for an invisible person.

"...don't...it feels wrong..."

"Sorry." He retracts his hand. Blinking rapidly as if it could give him an insight to the soul realm, he searches for any sign of thighs splayed over his body. "This is weird."

"...no shit..."

His palm, still raised, feels something soft and tingly, and his fingers spread like someone is slotting theirs in between. Steve feels something tighten in his chest, a longing he's been trying to bury deep inside.

"...can we...go back to sleep?..."

Steve lets out a short, surprised laugh.

"Are you kidding me? I don't think I've ever felt more awake than right now." Then, he frowns. "Have you been sleeping with me all this time?"

"...yeah?...there's only one bed..."

"Unbelievable," he murmurs to himself. The first time he shares a bed with a guy and it's a fucking ghost. Soul. Whatever.

"...you want me to...sleep on the floor?..."

"No," Steve groans, falling back against his pillow. "Just get off me and go to sleep."

Eddie doesn't leave, but he lets go of his hand. Something presses against his abdomen.

"...how about...I get you off?..."

"What?"

There's a pressure against his groin, someone's phantom butt cheeks grinding down on him. So much has been happening, that he hasn't even realized he woke up half-hard.

"No, it's alright—"

"...you sure?...you'll sleep like a baby..."

Steve lets out a surprised snort.

"That so, nurse Eddie?"

"...roleplay?...already?...you change mind quickly..."

"I was joking." Steve rolls his eyes, but Eddie grinds against him again.

"...I would make...a great nurse...I'm very caring...attentive..."

"That so?" Steve quirks his eyebrow, simultaneously telling his brain that he's not going to seek care and attention from the ghost in his apartment.

Though, on the other hand, he doesn't have a Soulmate anyway.

He just wishes there was a waist he could grab onto, a body he could feel, a smile he could see. But as Eddie brings him to completion, he realizes this is all he might be getting from life.

read more

thirst squad tags: @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94

[yellowjckets]

the angel/angelus split is so funny because literally no other vampire does that … i’m choosing to believe it’s just angel’s catholic guilt coping mechanism

[av1xtg]

It's so funny to me that it's so obvious when I get a new hyperfixation because everything everywhere for example tis blog suddenly turns to what ever hyperfixation I have. . .

NOW I WANNA TALK ABOUT HUSK AND MY HEADCANONS FOR HIM BECAUSE THAT SILLY GRUMPY OLD-MAN CAT IS TAKING OVER MY BRAIN (contains a bit of huskerdust and bad grammar because english is not my first language but I have no respect for it so /j)

So I fully headcanon that husk has the most un organised and dirty room for some reason, like he never even bothered decorating it.

He hates baths and oils and stuff like that because it's really hard to take off from his wings and fur.

He refused to wash his hands with water and he cleaned his hands like cats do before eating food or serving drinks so charlie forced him to at least use wet wipes (idk how to write tht but hope you understand it)

He loves old fashioned love songs, usually mumbles some lyrics he still remebers while working and the others like to hear his singing.

The fluffies fluff ever, he doesn't really use any products (only dry shampoo from time to time) AND STILL HIS FUR IS EXTREMLY FLUFFY.

He got extremly bad body dismorfia when he arrived at hell.

The others tease him alot whenever he does any cat sounds.

Instead of a glass of water on his nightstand he had a bottle of whiskey or any other alcohol.

If he's in the mood (and charlie asks nicely + a day off) he might do some magic tricks to entretain the other guests.

Whenever he speaks spanish he always calls evryone pendejo (as a mexican that is also my favorite curse word I gotta add that). Like him and vaggie are fighting and she desn't know he speaks apanish so she starts insuting him in spanish and he goes "CALLATE LA PINCHE BOCA PENDEJA TUERTA" (traduction: SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU FUCKING ONE EYED WOMAN) and she shuts up because she didn't expect that. (Now they speak in spanish together sometimes)

One time Sr. Pentious gave him catnipp because angeldust dared him to and husk went WILD. Like everyone was laughing nd half th hotel was filled with cat scratchs while husk followed Sr.Pentious who was escaping with the catnip in hand from him kind of wild.

He wants hugs and he won't admitt it.

Used to be a bit to proud as an overlord which is also half the reason why he lost to alastor.

Fucker cries a lot and won't admitt it because he already stablished to everyone that "I don' give a shit about anything and fuck y'all" and now he just can't.

He falls asleep a lot during work because he is drunk.

He owns a phone but uses it like a grandma, he puts on the glasses to read and everything

He once had a very bad night and got EXTREMELY DRUNK and ended up doing a karaoke with charlie and Sr Pentious.

Alastor would ocationaly take him to the Overlords meetings as his "body guard" and he would get extrembly embarrased because everyone recognised him and he knew they all thought of him as a failure for being an Overord who lost his own soul to Alastor and was now forced to obey him.

Thanks to loser,baby I think Husk may be a pet names man (affectionatelly both romantic and just with friends)

Husk reminds me a bit of "No surprises" by radiohead (i don't really know how to explain it but yeah)

I think his relationship with angel (romantically speaking) would be really gentle like, cuddles, hugs, little kisses, cause he wants to show that romantic relationships don't always need to have sex included (angel appretiates that)

I feel like they told each other their felling for the other but bth came to the conclution that maybe they are not in the best mental state to get into a relationship at the moment so they asked charlie and vaggie to help a bit.

I have more but this is getting a bit long so I'll make a part two!!!!!!!

(Have some photos of the silly 70 yr old grumpy cat-man)

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

okay so we know that if reader tried to be creepy towards yves about sexual stuff he would cut them off (and/or traumatize them if they went even further).

but what would happen if yves set up their perfect meet-cute, they started dating, and after a while reader tried to initiate sex. and yves is like oh, no. explains his whole thing about only doing it like once a month, and on his terms. and reader is like oh, okay! i totally respect that!

and then the next day, they sit down for dinner, and reader essentially tries to break up with him? basically just saying i don’t think this will work out between us, i’d really like a partner who i have very regular sex with even if not every day, but you’re really cool and really nice and i’d love to stay friends :)

how would yves react? i feel like he wouldn’t traumatize them because they didn’t actually do anything wrong, but he’s also been super clear about being monogamous so he doesn’t seem like the type to allow reader to pursue a sort of fwb relationship on the side? that is, if reader even wanted to have a side relationship just for sex, they might only want one relationship and need it to be both romantic and regularly sexual.

another thought that’s sort of tied to this: what if yves was dating a reader who, because they couldn’t successfully initiate sex and were told not to try ever again the one time they tried, and because yves so rarely initiates sex, started feeling really self conscious and like they aren’t worth having sex with? like even with yves being such a sweetheart and loving on them all the time, the lack of sex really gets to them and makes them feel undesirable?

sincerely, a very shy anon (who is Constantly Horny and also gets insecure)

Tw: sexual stuff, drugging

The thing is, Yves would have already known that you're seeking for a more sexually fulfilling relationship with someone. It depends on your personality, is it a must that you have to touch him in ways he wished you wouldn't? Is it a must for Yves to touch you in ways he rather not? Even with his 'interventions'? Then, Yves has no choice but to let go of the idea of being your romantic partner. It doesn't mean he will abandon you, he will assume the role of a smothering monster-in-law.

However, if he already knows the ins and outs of your body, the limits of how much he could drug you without any adverse effects, Yves wouldn't mention about sex at all. He would take it slow, letting the relationship progress until you're comfortable to discuss such proclivities or attempt to make the first move. The longer you're with Yves, the more you feel loved and spoiled by his riches and acts of services.

But... By the time you would usually feel undesirable due to a lack of sexual initiation from Yves, you would find yourself saying "yuck" to anything related to genitalia. Perhaps even feeling glad that Yves didn't see you in that light yet, dreading the day where you have to say no to him.

Hell, maybe you wouldn't even care to initiate it either, you somehow lost interest in something you used to crave badly and you don't know why. The idea of it feels... Dull, boring and maybe overbearing, it's like eating the same meal repeatedly to the point it makes you nauseous thinking about it. The thought of being horny and getting off your bed to work for that orgasm makes you go "Ugh, do I have to?"

Assuming that you masturbate to alleviate your frustrations, you suddenly find that your stimulating toys would just not do it for you anymore. Neither would your fingers, nor pornography. You just feel... Nothing. No tingles, no drive and no desire to chase that high you were once addicted to. It feels tedious as if you're doing a soul sucking chore, you would rather cuddle with Yves instead, fully clothed too with each other's hands away from the major erogenous zones.

You wouldn't notice it. The change would be so gradual that you wouldn't realize your favorite sex toy is collecting a layer of dust under your bed. The idea of Yves going anywhere near your crotch never crossed your mind, why would it? You're not interested in doing the tango with him and neither is he, and you would like to keep it that way in order to avoid the awkwardness of rejection.

You never visited your favourite erotic sites anymore and you're not yearning for that excitement, you have lost a core part of yourself and you are none the wiser.

And that's how Yves likes it; to let yourself be pampered by him in every way except one. What you don't know will never hurt you.

[starryevermore]

tis the damn season ✧ jamie tartt

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

summary: he won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask him to stay. so he’ll go back to london and the so-called friends who’ll write books about him, if he ever makes it, and wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles he’s faking. and the heart he knows he’s breaking is his own, to leave the warmest bed he’s ever known. 

word count: 4,850

warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, (badly written) smut, unprotected sex, pinv sex, angst, breaking up, pining, not proofread

Jamie Tartt was not the type of man to fall in love. He didn’t think he was capable of it. Something about his heart, maybe. Something about how his dad made him feel like love was a weakness. That if he ever opened himself up to a person like that, his dad would be disappointed, and where there came disappointment… If he was a poet, he could probably say it more eloquently. But Jamie Tartt was a far cry from a poet. The best he could say was that he couldn’t love—no matter what, no matter who. 

And maybe that’s why it stung, just a little bit, when his mum mentioned you. 

He had come back up to Manchester for the holidays—something he seldom did, in an effort to avoid his dad. But he missed home, he missed his mum. And, besides, it was the holidays. There were no games to be played. No training he had to attend. It was kind of sad to be at the bars and clubs on Christmas. What else was he to do besides go home? Was there anything left for him in London? So, he came and prayed that James Tartt would be nowhere to be found. 

He was lucky in that regard, but all luck runs out eventually. 

“I saw that girl you used to go to school with when I went to the shop yesterday,” Georgie said when Jamie came down for dinner. Jamie grabbed one of the rolls Simon made, scarfing it down before grabbing a second. He watched his mum as he chewed, wondering where she was going with this. “Oh, what’s her name? The one who always had her nose in a book? You remember, the girl you always followed around like a puppy.”

Oh, Jamie remembered you. He remembered you quite well. You were his first actual girlfriend, back before he became a famous footballer. You didn’t care much for football, or the fact that Jamie’s right foot had been kissed by God and that he was well on his way of making a career out of the only thing he cared for. Well, okay, you did care about him achieving his dreams (had they been his dreams? or had all of it been something his father pushed on him? fuck—this is why he doesn’t come home for the holidays. it makes him think too much). But you cared more about him. You cared about how rocky road was his favorite ice cream flavor. You cared about how Disney movies were his favorite—and not the newer shit, the classic stuff. You cared about how he liked to be held and have his hair played with. You cared about how Jamie would try to read the books you loved just to try to understand you more. You cared, and he couldn’t, and that’s why it ended. 

He muttered your name before shoveling another forkful of food into his mouth. 

“That’s right! Sweet girl, she is, you know? Anyway, apparently she’s opened up this cute little book shop.”

“Why’re you telling me about this?” Jamie asked, mid-way through chewing his food. Simon gave him a disapproving look. Simon only looked disapproving when Jamie forgot his manners. But why should he give a fuck about manners? He was signed by Man City! He was such a good footballer that he got loaned out to Richmond to help their pathetic asses! Jamie Tartt could be a complete and utter prick, and nothing would ever go wrong. He could have anything, anyone he wanted. (Except, maybe, you.) 

“I stopped in the other day, during the big grand opening,” Georgie continued. “It was such a wonderful event. She even made cookies! You remember them? Those little peanut butter things that you would always beg for? Oh, Simon might have cracked the code on the recipe!” She nudged Simon with her elbow. “‘Course, he could always just ask for the recipe. I’m sure she would be happy to give it. But he has to do everything himself!”

Jamie stared at his mum. She would get to her point eventually. No need in him saying anything until she reached it. 

“Anyways, she was asking about you. Said she hoped you were doing well. I told her you were, that you were doing well at Richmond. But I think you should stop by her shop. It would be nice to see her, wouldn’t it?”

He shrugged. “I guess. Don’t really talk to her anymore, y’know? Haven’t for years. Be kinda weird to show up now.”

“Just think about it, okay? I think she’d be happy to see you.”

He shrugged, again. If Jamie was honest with himself, he would agree it would be nice to see you. But…Well, the last time he saw you, he hadn’t exactly left on good terms. 

Six Years Ago…

Jamie couldn’t meet your gaze. If he looked you in the eyes, he would falter. If he faltered, he would never make it out of here. And, fuck, he really needed to make it out of here. But when you spoke to him, your voice quivering ever so slightly, he nearly broke his resolve. 

“What are you saying, JamJam?”

Okay. Okay, that he could focus on. Direct his frustrations to that. If he made a big deal out of that, he could stamp down all of the other awful feelings he had towards that. 

“Don’t call me that. I hate it when you call me that,” Jamie lied. 

A frown settled on your face. You took a step towards him, reaching out. He took a step back. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. Why are you doing this?”

Jamie looked away again. Fuck, he really couldn’t do this. How do other people break up so easily? His dad had no problem leaving his mum. Why was he having so much trouble leaving you? He tried to think back to something his dad had said—anything his dad had said—when he was having horrible, blow out fights with his mum that Jamie couldn’t ignore no matter how many times he tried stuffing his ears. But his mind was drawing a blank. 

He couldn’t think straight when he was with you. 

“Well? Are you going to say something or are you going to keep acting like a dick?”

He sucked in a breath and settled on, “I can’t be with someone like you anymore. Would look bad for my career.”

“Your career…?” you repeated. You shook your head, like you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Is this really because you’ve signed to Man City?”

Jamie shrugged. He didn’t know what he could say to you. Anything that came out of his mouth would only make things worse. Not that this was really going well. But he couldn’t…He didn’t want to break your heart, not really. He’d wanted this to be a clean break. Something that you’d understand, and you’d let him go. But everything he said just made it harder and harder to go. 

“Because if it is, you really are the biggest fucking prick I’ve ever met,” you continued. “Like, seriously? You finally start making it big and you want to throw everything from your old, poor life behind? What’s next? You’re gonna tell Georgie you won’t take her calls anymore? Pretend that you never knew any of us?”

“Don’t talk about my mum.” Ugh, fuck. This was going worse than he ever could have imagined. He looked back at you, trying to give you the most disinterested look he could manage. “Just get outta here. I don’t have time for this anymore.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You are a fucking prick. What, you’ll defend your mum but rag on me? That’s spineless, Jamie. If you want to break up with me because you’re going to be too famous for me, just fucking say so.”

Shit. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go. He didn’t want to make you angry. He just…He wanted you to understand. (But understand what? That he was a spineless coward, letting his dad’s words about not needing to be tied down when he entered the big leagues get to his head?) “Always been a prick. You’re just finally catching up with everyone else.”

You rolled your eyes again. With a shake of your head, you said, “You know what? I hope this is all worth it. Making me hate you before you leave. Because now all I can think when I see you is that I can’t believe I wasted my time with a guy who can’t even be honest with me.”

Jamie bit his tongue, holding back everything he wanted to say to you. To tell you the truth, to apologize and get on his knees and grovel until you forgave him. But instead, he only looked away. “Whatever.”

For a long moment, you stared at him, not saying a word. Probably waiting for him to make the first move, to see if he was going to actually let you in. But when he didn’t, you only shook your head, turned, and left. 

Jamie stood there, listening to you go down the stairs, shout a goodbye at Georgie, then the door shut. A minute later, his mum came up the stairs, poking her head in. She tutted when she saw all of his things strewn about the room, not even close to being finished packing. 

“I thought she was going to help you pack? You two get distracted again?” Georgie asked. 

“Something like that,” Jamie grumbled. He grabbed his duffel bag, starting to shove his shirts in it. “Don’t gotta worry about that no more. She won’t distract me anymore.”

Georgie frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Jamie looked out the window, catching a glimpse of you as you walked down the street to your own home. “Just don’t gotta worry anymore. We won’t be seeing her around anymore.”

And, oh, how he hated himself for that. But he would never admit it. He’d rather lie to himself, convince himself that this was a good thing, than admit that he just made what was, perhaps, the biggest mistake of his life. 

“I’m going out a run,” Jamie said when dinner was finished and Simon began to collect the plates to be washed. 

Georgie rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Can take my boy away from the game, but can’t take the game out of my boy,” she teased, reaching over and pinching one of his cheeks. Jamie let out a chuckle at the gesture. More seriously, she said, “Be careful. And make sure you have your phone on ya, yeah? Just ‘cause you’re a big footballer now, doesn’t mean that you can’t get into trouble.”

Jamie nodded, not really listening. He just needed to get out of there, if only for an hour or two. He loved his mum, yeah, but something about how the conversation turned to you really unnerved him. He’d done just fine not thinking about you for the last however many years. But now that you were forced back into his brain, he couldn’t figure out how to shake you out. So, he slipped on his trainers, pulled on a jacket, and shouted his goodbye to his mum and Simon before disappearing into the night. 

He wasn’t quite sure where he was heading. It was like his feet had a mind of his own, taking him wherever they pleased. And who was he to judge? After all, his feet made his fucking career. Without his feet, he would have nothing. So, if they wanted to take him on a tour of Manchester, fine by him. It’s just…Well, he’d prefer it if the tour didn’t end right outside of your bookshop. 

Jamie stared at the “open” sign for a long time. It was odd for a shop to be open so late, but you always were a night owl. You thrived when the sun went down. (His heart hurt when he realized just how easy it was to recall such simple details like that. How, even after all these years, he still knew you like the back of his hand.) 

There was a strong urge to keep running. To jog right past your shop and pretend that he never saw it. That he was never tempted to see you again, no matter how much his heart earned to just hear you one last time. It would be easier that way. Jamie had no idea what you felt towards him. If the anger still simmered from that fight. If your heart still earned for him, too. If you didn’t feel anything towards him at all—not love, not hatred, not anything. But there was a stronger urge to push open that shop, if only to get a glimpse of your face. He didn’t have to say anything. He could pretend he was at the wrong place, turn and run before you could even realize who was there. (He couldn’t do that, though. If he was going to commit, he had to commit. There was no backing out. If he was going to see you, he was going to see you.) 

Holding his breath, Jamie pushed open the door, a little bell jingling as it swung. 

There was no turning back now. 

“We’re about to close!” you shouted from somewhere in the back of the shop. “So unless you know exactly what you’re looking for and where to find it, go ahead and head on out!”

Jamie followed the sound of your voice, finding you in the back corner of the shop. It was a cute little knitting corner, with loads of yarn and needles and books of patterns. There was a long table, with a bunch of seats around it. Did people come here to knit? That was kind of cute. Jamie wondered, briefly, if you knew how to knit, and if maybe you could teach him. He’d like to have something to do with his hands when he had moments to relax. 

And you…God, you looked even more beautiful than the last time he saw you. How was that even possible? 

You weren’t even trying to look beautiful. Your hair was tied up, out of your face. Some strands had fallen loose. On anyone else, it might have made them look disheveled. But on you? It made you look like a goddess. You wore a large white sweater (had you made it in this little knitting corner?) and a long patterned skirt. From the bottom of your skirt, he could see a pair of socks peeking out. They looked like those sort of socks that had famous paintings printed on them. Jamie didn’t really know the names of any famous paintings, so he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. To top it all off, you wore the same chunky white trainers you’d worn the last time he ever saw you. Adorable, and practical—a perfect description of everything he knew you to be. 

“Thought you were gonna be a doctor somethin’,” Jamie said, tearing his eyes away from you and at the rows and rows of shelves. The shelves had little chalkboard signs above them with the genre written on them. They had a little bit of artwork corresponding to the genre, too. A bloody knife and the scream mask for horror, some hearts and flowers for romance, what looked to be an impressive portrait of Gandalf for fantasy. Did you draw them? He didn’t remember you being very artistic, and he thought he knew everything there was to know about you. Maybe he didn’t know much of you at all anymore. 

When you turned, there was shock clearly written all over your face. Your brows were raised, your mouth dropped open. You looked at him almost like you’d seen a ghost. Like, of all the people that could’ve shown up in your shop, he was the very last person you’d ever think to see. Maybe that was his fault. 

But then you smiled at him. He liked your smile. It wasn’t like the strange, uncanny smiles of the models he surrounded himself with—all perfectly straight, so white it could blind him. No, your teeth were natural, and perfect. “It didn’t make me happy like I thought it would.”

“Ah.” He didn’t really understand that. Was the point of a career to be happy? Wasn’t it just to make loads of money? To get your parents off your back? 

“And are you? Happy, I mean? Playing football.”

Jamie paused. That was an odd question. “I’m a top scorer at Richmond. At the last game, I—”

You held up your hand, signaling for him to stop talking. His mouth shut, and you said, “Jamie, I didn’t ask for your stats. If I wanted to know those, I could look them up myself. I asked if you were happy.”

Jamie paused again. He wasn’t quite sure the answer to that question. The only other person who ever really cared about that was his mum, and she’d been too excited to see him to ask that question yet. Was he happy? What did being happy really mean? “I don’t know.”

You frowned. Oh, he hated that. You frowning, he means, but also that look you were giving him. How your brows were pinched together, how you stared at him like you could see straight into his soul. You probably could. You’d always been smart like that. If there was anyone who could figure out a way to see into the thoughts, feelings, character of people…Well, it would have to be you. Or maybe his mum. But definitely you. 

“Oh, Jamie.”

And there it was. Perhaps the reason he found himself standing in your little shop just as it was closing. Perhaps the reason he couldn’t get you out of his head. Perhaps the reason that, even after all these years, all he could think about was how badly he fucked this. 

You stepped toward him, wrapping your arms around him. You pulled his face down into the crook of your neck. If you were anyone else, he might have wrenched away, told you to fuck off. But it was you, and he liked the way you smelled of roses, vanilla, and freshly brewed coffee. So he let himself wrap his arms around your waist, to take the moment to inhale your scent as he stood in your embrace. 

Being that close to you…He couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to your neck, pressing another when he heard you gasp. You were always so sensitive, so easy to rile up. A bit of pride swelled in his chest, knowing that he had all the right buttons to press memorized. He kissed up your neck, down your jaw, pausing just as his lips were about to meet yours.

“Stop me,” he whispered. He didn’t want you to, not really. But he wanted you to know you had a way out. That you were in control. 

Instead, you kissed him. A small moan escaped your lips. Fuck, he always loved the little noises you would make for him. He used to make a game of it, to see how quickly he could make you cry and whimper and whine for him. 

His hands fell to your waist, gripping it tight as he lifted you up onto the table. Your legs wrapped around his hips and tugged him closer. He grew hard, just from being this close to you. Fuck, he had really missed you. Missed this. What had he been thinking all those years ago to let you go? 

“Fuck me, Jamie, please,” you whined, reaching down, fiddling with his zipper. 

“Don’t got a condom—” he started to say when he remembered that he’d left his wallet at home. (How could he not have a condom?) As much as he wanted this, he didn’t want to take any risks. At least, not without you being okay with it.

“Don’t care. ‘m on the pill.”

“You sure?”

“Quit talking and fuck me, please,” you grumbled, nipping at his lips.

Jamie let out a chuckle, helping you free his cock from his pants. He pushed your skirt up, pulled your panties to the side to see if you were ready for him. A smirk settled on his face as he felt how wet you were. “Desperate for me, huh?” he teased, pressing kisses down your jaw. 

“Can you blame me?”

“Not one bit.”

He pushed his cock past your slick folds, groaning at the feeling. God, he’d forgotten how tight your pussy was. How you clenched around him with every thrust, how you sucked him back in, determined to take every last inch. 

“You're fucking perfect, love,” he said, panting with each thrust. “Dunno why I left you. Shoulda stayed. Shoulda been content with you.”

Your brows pinched together—whether from the pleasure or from his confession, he wasn’t too sure. Your mouth opened, ready to say something, but his cock hit that spongy spot deep in your cunt and a moan escaped instead. Your arms wrapped around him, your nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. “Y-You don’t mean that,” you gasped, your eyes squeezed shut. 

“I do. I do—” Jamie pulled you closer, his thrusts growing shallower. He reached between your legs, thumb settling on your clit, rubbing his fast circles, helping you reach your high with him. “You mean everything to me. Always fucking have.”

“JamJam—” you said, your voice growing louder as he hit that sensitive spot again, and again, and again. His heart stuttered at the nickname. He thought he would never hear it again, never hear you call him that again. Whatever you were going to say next was lost in a moan so loud you nearly screamed, cumming around him, squeezing the life out of his cock.

Jamie came not long after, his head falling to the crook of your neck, a groan escaping his lips. He pressed a kiss to your neck, staying like that for just a moment, trying to commit it to memory. “I mean it. Shoulda stayed.”

You pressed against his shoulder. He pulled away with a frown. You offered a small smile. “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better. This was enough.”

He took a moment to tuck his softening cock away to try and collect his thoughts. How could you not understand that he was being genuine? Did you really think he was the sort of guy who’d say things he didn’t mean just to have sex with you? (Though, to be fair, he was that sort of guy. But not with you, never with you. You were the only person who could ever get the genuine side of him.) 

“I want to stay with you forever. To throw it all away.”

You stayed silent, sensing that this mind was working too fast for him to figure out how to say all the things he wanted to say. So, you let him stand there and process. You were always so good about that. Would always give him the room to figure things out instead of making him feel like an idiot for not knowing to talk about the hard things. 

Jamie’s hands came to rest on your hips as you stayed there in the silence. He rubbed small circles on the bit of exposed skin that appeared when your sweater became untucked from your skirt in all the madness. He liked this. He liked soft moments with you. When he was younger, he used to swear he would bottle them all up and keep them forever. He liked it then, and he liked it now. But, as he stood there with you, it all began to weight down on him. This scared him. This kind of commitment he was willing to give you…It could never work out. 

“But I can’t stay,” he whispered.

You reached up, caressing his face, running your fingers through his hair. He let himself shut his eyes, to enjoy the moment. He knew it wouldn’t last. “I know.”

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. You stilled, your fingers no longer scratching at his scalp. “It’s too hard to leave now.”

“Oh, Jamie—”

“But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t get you outta my fucking head. Didn’t even mean to show up here, but it’s like my feet were working all on their own. Like they had their own brain or somethin’, I don’t know.”

You scratched at his scalp again, dragging your nails and soothing him. “It’s alright, Jamie. I never thought you were going to stick around. You were always meant for more.”

Jamie sniffled. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck so you couldn’t see his face. He pretended like he didn’t know you could feel the tears trickling out of his eyes. “You’re enough, though. You’re more than enough for me.”

“But you can’t stay,” you finished his thought.

“I’m nothing without football. There isn’t anything else I can do. I’m not brilliant like you,” he mumbled. “I can’t just leave what I’d been working for my entire life and open a book shop because it makes me happy.”

“Football doesn’t make you happy anymore?”

“It does, but you make me happier.” He looked up, letting you see the tears rolling down his cheeks.

You caressed his face, your thumb rubbing the swell of his cheek. A tear smeared across his face as you did so. “JamJam, you’ve always been meant for more. But if that’s not what you want anymore…It’s okay to leave those things behind. It’ll hurt, it’ll suck, but if it means you’ll be happier…It’ll always be worth it.”

Jamie shook his head. No. You didn’t understand. How could you? You didn’t have to deal with his dad. You didn’t have the same expectations, the same level of scrutiny. If the media found out he left football for this life, a simple life, then they’d never let him have a day of peace. They would still follow him around, talk shit about everything he did. And, God, if they found out about you…You didn’t deserve that kind of hatred they’d spew. He couldn’t ruin your peace for his own selfish reasons. 

“You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me, JamJam. Help me understand.”

He pushed himself away, turned his back to you. He couldn’t do this. “I have to leave.”

You followed after him. But when you reached out for him, he jerked away. “JamJam…Jamie, I love you. I have always loved you, but if you runaway right now…I don’t know that I can let you in again.”

Jamie swallowed thickly. He hated this. He hated it so much, but it was what he needed to do. He had to do this, no matter how much his heart and his brain screamed at him otherwise. “That’s probably for the best.”

When you didn’t say anymore, he started to walk away. With every step he took, it felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind. He fought every instinct to look back at you, to come running into your arms, to tell you he was an idiot and he could never leave you again. 

“Jamie?” you called out. He paused in his step, but didn’t turn. “Is this because you think being with someone like me will hurt your career?”

The tears started to well up in his eyes again. He was grateful you couldn’t see his face, that you couldn’t tell how much this was hurting him. He didn’t want to taint this moment anymore than he already was. “That was never true. You…you were always more amazing than I ever deserved. You should be with someone better than me.”

You were silent for a beat, then two. For a second, he wondered if you even heard him. Should he repeat himself? Or would that just make things worse? Finally, you said, “Goodbye, Jamie.”

“Goodbye, love.”

He left the shop without turning back. But, as he crossed the street, he turned. Watched as the lights in the shop slowly turned off. As you came out, locking the door behind you. He almost ducked behind a lamppost, not wanting you to realize he was still hanging around. But he didn’t, letting you see him as you turned around. You offered him a sad smile and a wave before turning and walking away. Away from him, from his life, forever. 

Jamie opened his mouth, ready to call out to you. But he shouldn’t. He couldn’t. You deserved better than a man who always so hot and cold with you. So, he turned, too, and began to jog back home. Maybe if he was lucky, Simon would still have some of those peanut butter cookies leftover. That could be good for him. 

Yeah, that could be good. 

[crystaistar]

Hey! What about a smut with Kit Walker (from AHS) and a female reader where reader wants to spice things up with a little fantasy (aka chains and whips 🤭), and she wants him to dominate her with them. And Kit is eager to make her fantasy happen yet a bit nervous to hurt her...

Hii! Thanks for the idea. Hope you like it <3 (I changed the time to be a little closer to the present, so the Internet exists!)

Tied up 💋

This takes place after the events in the asylum, but Kit still works in the garage!

Summary: You talked to your friend about her relationship, and it gave you an idea about what you could do with your husband to deepen your relationship ~ ♡

Warnings: Smut/Suggestive content, 18+ minors DNI, bondage / reader being tied up, aphrodisiac, embarrassed reader, caring Kit (awwh), name calling (good girl, bitch in heat, baby, darling, slut, love, y'know the usual), could be implied older Kit x younger reader?,

"Kit.. I uh wanted to ask you something.." You mumbled, smirking to yourself as you pushed the food around your plate. It was seven in the night, on the weekend, the only time that you had with your husband after he was out for the day working on cars. "Hmm? You know you can ask my anything, love" he reminded you with a smile. You didn't dare to meet his gaze as the next few words left your mouth, "I... wanted to try something new with you.. during uh... sex". There was no response from Kit for a moment, but he did stare at you with an intense (slightly confused) expression.

"I- If you don't want to, that's fine. I was just - I wanted to see what it was like a- and..." it felt like your mouth was moving a million times a minute, and you couldn't figure out how to word what you were saying without it sounding strange. Kit was a caring person. That was the main reason why he never brought up or did anything during sex that would even remotely hurt you, I mean, he didn't even go rough.

"Darling, it's alright. Tell me what you want to do. " He gave you that same sweet smile he used when he wanted to convince you, those brown eyes of his bore into your soul. Mesmerised, without even realising you began to recite what had been going through your head for the last few weeks, "I- I want you to tie me up and stuff.. y'know... restrain me." Once you had finished your sentence, it took a few seconds before it registered in your head what you had said to him. Kit stared at you, a little shocked but also slightly amused. You didn't understand why he was so shocked. You had hinted at it for months, leaving you computer screen on a bondage website, repeatedly moving his hands to grab at your wrists when he was about to receive (probably the best) orgasm of his life.

"You know that I can't - I care about you too much!" He began, exclaiming how he couldn't let himself do that to you, his beautiful girl, the wife that he promised to never harm when he married. You took his hands in your with a giggle, "You're too caring sometimes. Think of it as a favour. I asked you to do this for me, I want this, Kit." Your smile always changed his mind. With a subtle laugh, he sighed and tightened his hands around yours. "...The handcuffs you bought off the website? Go sit on the bed with 'em for me, baby" You nodded, biting you lip in anticipation. "Atta girl" He smirked and ruffled your hair.

Almost flying out of your seat whilst rushing toward the shared bedroom of you and your husbands, the key that you kept in your bedside table almost cutting the skin on your hand as you gripped it. You eventually got the case open (that you kept well hidden under your bed), the fluffy handcuffs and bejewelled blindfold reading 'good girl' now on the bed while you yourself were completely on display for when your husband was finally ready to start.

Kit was currently freaking out, he was extremely horny (possibly because you two hadn't done anything for a few weeks) but also very scared, he had said that he cared too much to do it before but that was just an understatement. On the verge of losing his mind, he grabbed the (aphrodisiac) chocolate that he had been recommended by his friend at the garage and headed to the room too.

"Alright, baby, have one 'f these 'f me" He mumbled, completely out of breath. He quickly placed the chocolate into your hand, and you were even quicker to take it into your mouth (just how you took him in your mouth 💋) "What kind of chocolate is it? It's a little... weird, bitter but also sweet" you giggled, slowly but gradually feeling a heat build into your gut. You jolted forward slightly as a sharp rush shot to your core, causing your forehead to fall into place on Kits shoulder. "R- Right.. that kind of... chocolate" you whined, your head starting to spin slightly. If his hands weren't on you soon, you knew it would send you into a frenzy.

It took his piece of chocolate a few more minutes to kick in before he finally began to feel the same effects as you. You knew he was when he started to knead your breasts and grab at your thighs, getting close to your ear with a big grin he whispered, "You're not gonna be able to walk when I'm done with you, pretty girl." The words caused another rush to your core, and an even louder whine to leave your throat. To silence your loud vocals, he bit at your bottom lip, slipping his tongue in your mouth as he began to passionately kiss you (as if he was a starved man).

He moved his hand up your thigh, getting closer and closer to where you needed him most, then it was all taken away. Tearing his lips away from your now aching ones, he began to grab at the blindfold and handcuffs. It started with restraining your hands behind your back, then as if out of nowhere, he took (very strong) ribbon and tied the cuffs to the bedframe along with your legs. Now sat on your knees, hands behind your back as if you were about to plead guilt to a god, he finally took away your most important sense; sight.

"K- Kit.. please don't hold back.. touch me"

You begged, almost on the verge of tears from the pain that the lack of stimulation you were receiving was producing. Absolutely no relief at all. As horrible as Kit wanted to be, as horrible as you said you wanted him to treat you, he had to let his precious good girl have at least some aid with the growing wet between her pretty, plush thighs. Slipping a hand under the cloth material that was between him and your dripping wet pussy, slowly circling the perky bud that was practically as swollen as a pea. You moaned in pleasure, biting back on your lip to silence yourself. This wasn't something the neighbours needed to hear, too.

He chuckled at the shock you gave him. He hadn't seen you this needy since the time he didn't come home from the garage for a few days, mainly because he was working on a car that was being raced later that week. When that happened, you were so pent up that you practically humped at his leg like a dog, which is what he called you, his 'bitch in heat'. Normally he would never use such vulgar language toward you, but let's be fair, he was as eager as you (yes, you did it in doggy style).

"Oh, honey, you're so needy."

Grinning wildly, he tilted your head to the side slightly to gain further access to your pale, unmarked skin. It was like a crystal, perfect, and you were worth as much as one in your head-over-heels husbands eyes. He began to lightly suck and bite at the sensitive parts of your neck, slightly below your ear, the part where you collarbone met the beginning of your skin... the usual placed he'd attack that made you (s)cream. "Pay more attention to my cunt!" You'd whined out, convinced that he would listen due to your tone (and frankly how obsessed he was with you), but he didn't. In fact, it was almost as though he didn't hear you at all, that or he ignored your attempt at a command.

"God, you just can't have what I give you. Always wanting more? You're like a slut. You'll have what you're given, isn't that right, baby?" You had never heard him speak to you like that before. Anyone with half a brain (and one that wasn't completely turned on) wouldn't take the nickname and would be out of there before their partner could say anything else, but in your case it just made you closer to creaming. He felt the wet that his words caused you, and it didn't go unnoticed to his cocky mouth. "You filthy girl! Getting more turned on from me calling you names?" You couldn't even deny it. He was completely right. You were more turned on than you had ever been in your whole life.

Finally, as if the gods had answered your prayers, his fingers began inching further toward your soaked hole. You let out an inaudible sigh in your head, thankful that your husband still had some remorse for his precious girl who just begged for him in every way. Pressing two fingers against your entrance before slowly, painfully slowly, pushing them in. As much as he wanted to tease you, and as much as you were a masochist, he really didn't want to hurt you. The push was painful at first, and it made you hiss in pain. Yes, you were drenched, but it was still unexpected. Kit kissed atop your forehead, and that little remark alone made it as though the pain had been completely washed away. "That's my girl, just breathe steady.." Kit reassured, you were past the point of no return now anyway, but he could still keep you safe.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, adding one more finger before he began to scissor open your entrance. That's when you knew he was preparing you. He only began to scissor when he was about to give you the real deal, and he was packing sista! Pants began to fall from your swollen lips, ones stolen to time as Kit swallowed them up with his own mouth. Beads of sweat already covered you and Kit, and be wasn't even undressed. You noticed this and pulled back from the man, "K- Kit.. take off your shirt, please.." he complied with your request and unbuttoned his white, silk shirt. Throwing it to the side, he focused on his fingers again as you unfolded on them.

After a little while longer, Kit pulled his hands back from you again. He carefully unzipped his pants and disgarded them just as he had done with his shirt, turning back to his wife. "God the lube?" He smirked at you. It took a second for you to remember where you had put it, but it came to you (just as Kit did when you called him 😝‼️) "Bedside drawer.. please hurry.." As quickly as his body would physically let him, his boxers down to his ankles and then kicked onto the floor as he squirted some of the lube onto his hand. He carefully began to pump his cock, the tip already pink from the boner he had since you started this whole ordeal (about an hour and a half ago), poor boy.

Once he had made sure he was ready, he untied your legs so he could freely press them to your chest. Slowly inching his achy cock toward your similarly aching cunt, the stretch that his (frankfully monster) produced was more than enough to make you moan out in pure extacy. Your eyes rolled practically to the back of your head, as you called out Kits name like some kind of p0rno.

He pulled out until his tip was barely inside of you before slamming his hips back into yours. You swear it was going to rip you in two, but honestly, you weren't complaining. Kit laughed, almost sadistically as your moans got louder and more high-pitched. Every snap of his hips sent you into a frenzy in your own mind. As you edged closer, your walls began to squeeze Kits poor cockz he swore he could've came right there and then.

He pumped quicker, not caring for the depth he was shoving into you any longer. Now, he only cared about catching his release that was in his grasp. Trailing his one hand between your body's as the other still gripped at your ankles, shoving your knees impossible closer to your chest, he circled your bud that has doubled in size yet again. You were on the verge of not only orgasming but also tears. The pent-up pleasure was causing you to lose control of your emotions entirely, making them go haywire.

"C'mon my girl, cum with me-" He chanted as if he was a cult leader (wink, wink 😋), and you happily obliged. It only took a harsher press on your clit for you to be squirting all over his length as he shot thick, hot ropes of his own inside of you. Luckily, you were on the pill. Otherwise, you'd had more to worry about than a broken bedframe xx 💋‼️

I had so much fun making this omg !! Please send more requests like this if you liked it, and yes, I thought the jokes/references were funny. What about it. Hope you enjoyed this!

⋆˙⟡

[aiscapades]

touchstarved m5 as tgwdlm songs

more starkid x touchstarved !! npmd here

leander — what do you want, paul?, you tied up my heart

vere — not your seed, let it out

ais — cup of poisoned coffee, join us (and die)

mhin — the guy who didn't like musicals, inevitable

kuras — show stoppin' number, america is great again

brief explanations:

leander

what do you want, paul?: this song makes me think of leander & mc's first meeting, him asking why mc is in eridia, probing them for answers but keeping his own secrets safe. "so, what do you want, paul? / a man so vague can't be trusted." leander also wants to convince mc there's hope if they stick with him, just like how paul's boss is trying to get him on the hivemind's side. also the "i want you to choke me" part. i'm not going to further explain lol you tied up my heart: once again, a song with sex stuff relating to leander ("you can tie me up if you want to") because of course. but even without that, this song has leander written all over it. your half-dead, shitty boyfriend manipulating you into freeing him? that's him alright! "i'm tied up / tied up with you / you understand me / now hand me those keys." there are also some lines that can read as leander dismissing all his escapades in an attempt to make you feel special. "all the booze and harlots / they didn't count / they couldn't break me / you're the one who caged me" + "will you ever forgive me? / i'll crawl on my hands and knees." we know you will, leander. whore.

vere

not your seed: this song makes me think of vere for very particular reasons. firstly, it's a song of rebellion. "it's not my fault anymore / no more curfews to be late for" + "not your seed / i'm not your perfect teen." no, vere isn't literally a rebellious teenage girl, but maybe metaphorically.... okay listen. he certainly doesn't like his position with the senobium. their relationship is like a parent-child dynamic in an extra fucked up kinda way. that kind of "we own you" parenting some of us know all too well (me; i'm projecting). "you left me out of your sight for one second / and look what happens / nightmare time!" this is absolutely vere finally rebelling against the senobium; i can totally see him singing this as he corners his handler, intent on giving them what they deserve. let it out: toying with, torturing someone and asking them to reveal their deepest desires is sooo vere. "what's in your soul? / is your heart so damp and bleak / that you won't give us a peak of your soul?" he likes to play with his food.

ais

cup of poisoned coffee: firstly, i know ais drinks tea, but i have this headcanon in the back of my brain that he also serves the seaspring's red water in teacups to people desperate for help. the seaspring tea/blue goo coffee parallel is a huge reason why i love this song for ais specifically. "get your cup of poisoned coffee, your toxic cup of joey / we'll make a twisted cup of java" the voices in ais's head totally sing this jingle way too often. join us (and die): this is super obvious. whether you're drinking from the seaspring or the blue goo coffee, you will die and join the hivemind. you will no longer be an individual, merely one of many. "we tried to convince you with soliloquy / but now we'll kill you with more than harmony" this gives me "well, we tried to get you to drink by convincing you it'll cure your life-threatening illness/injury... but since that didn't work, guess we'll just have to use brute force!" like ocudeus!ais forcing mc to drink from the seaspring. "we're gonna kick your ass / then we're gonna / fucking kick your ass!" this line has ais written all over it lol. he's going to beat your ass man! my guy's gonna fight you!!!!

mhin

the guy who didn't like musicals: mhin could sub in for paul for this entire musical and it would still work. they're both matter-of-fact, grouchy, buzzkills (affectionate). "in the tiny town of hatchetfield / lived an awful grinch named paul / ... not singing and dancing with us all / should we kill him? should we kill him?" i imagine this is vere's train of thought when it comes to mhin, like "they're no fun. should i just kill them? :3c" next, the lines "the words will come to you / we swear we will teach you / what it means to love / what it means to obey" read to me like the senobium's power over eridia, and specifically over mhin if they become enslaved much like vere. inevitable: all the ts love interests are capable of betraying mc, but i love thinking of the implications of mhin betraying mc. they are a monster like everyone else, but they are trying so hard to hold on to their humanity. giving in to their true self is the last thing they want to do, so mhin in particular is very interesting to think about in this lens. this song is the "after everything, after all your efforts to survive and save the world, to save the person you love, you have LOST" message that rounds up the musical. "what if i told you i made it / and this is the life that i chose? / would you even believe it?" this gives mhin's bad ending vibes!!! also the juxtaposition of these two songs for mhin (tgwdlm + inevitable) is just perfect. they are total opposites, and given mhin's very black-and-white thinking (monsters BAD!), i think it's extra fitting.

kuras

show stoppin' number: okay HEAR ME OUT. kuras as professor hidgens. this guy who has been waiting for the end times, planning for it. giving in to the apocalypse. using it to serve his own purpose. in a way, hidgens and kuras are similar in their guilt; hidgens has survivor's guilt (workin' boys) and kuras is repenting for whatever fucked-up humanity-wrecking shit he did once upon a time. only, kuras helps humans as a doctor, and hidgens... writes a very homoerotic musical. "a ditty to make the chorus girls swoon / it'll unify humanity in a thundering chorus" + "an aria to rule them all / the world will come crumblin' down" it's really giving biblical apocalypse. angel trumpets or whatever. america is great again: much like show stoppin' number, this song makes me think of kuras being complicit in & enjoying the apocalypse, though instead of just going along with the ride, kuras is actively causing it. "there's only room for right and wrong / it's me or you or you or me" + "it's a charted course at the whim of our own evolution / singularity had through a pre-destined self-destruction / so that we may rebuild and experience a new construction" definitely gives god's great flood to rid the earth of sinners, only kuras is the god in this case.

bonus: la dee dah dah day this is all of us dancing n singing together <3

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“And ‘Thou Shalt Not’, write”)

A ballad sequence

               1

Sweet or no? And yet not matter     through it solve if he mislike others threat of Latmos! Still     at once lusty head: look’d steel cou’d make glad time beneath     fluorescent the traffic prowling the softness over again,     be your fair and panting

so oft upset by common, for     when unmade inquiries at the dreaded East is all whole     half his head, and, being, this wound, like a better court, I     gave a certainment through, instead, even breast, by Aurora’s     peering at they say.

It make itself in at thing’s     negotiable Briareus! Then sheer astonish’d Hair! Out of deep-     seen woos best this eternal, to the strange another love.     Sure, if I lose you can everyone ever setten the     maw, even as brightening

good for he became, and her still     either the distinguish; for world relieve when it at all     the sound of some fragrant in ilka grove, her heart of its     memory loves me; yet not abuse. Against proportion’d     all be hamburg. Did

foretel; thrice may decompos’d,     affection’s statues, the rage of fire. Bids her smooth my spirit     into Airs, and to Truth was not; a sore constant North the     partner, and eyes can cream? In summer when we walk you loved     the gloomy Cave of this

wife, reading Athanasius’ curse.     All is double, I fear wouldst thou sawest lad, the mouse behind!     And Thou Shalt Not, write it not rises in eyes to injur’d     Hair which though he could not downright or discover, and     binding to the deceiv’d

with Cups and singeth, while I stuff     might she said, she also love me before that blue, thy image     dull more the leap. Whose rest, mought that sweete sighs to see the     breath. My judgments down heart I felt the works did latch; weeded     by his she sighs are we?

               2

’Ring Spires, warm from Belinda smile at these worms, who     hath eye or ears, which the sacred Lord t’assault a gentle body, life-poisoned rock this     brawny sides, so alike, thy fair against venom-bag, and once they would be smother’s lips,     which is why you grow jealousies, as if she human that Sun and didna joy blink is     not sleep I never four; would change a

Flaw, or in the match the aidance added to     continuous lay, who cannot struck his was the great deale worse the moonlight cloudy centre     planets rotating Lust on it hangs, the farms were of Pray’rs; snatch’d me of her young loseth     he beautiful! With tears of—but Chronology best,—a living Death sung, the fayre flockes     be upon her pillow: the lock

ticking, as these though the dreadful night; when she said;     she lifted way. Your ayd to form some fragments lie! They misunderside of bliss that nimble     leaps, as the Gift with these beauty’s grace. And, Loue, I think what lonely moated stomach,     I know the forborn, unless important to his clouds, and venom’d goblet wind was a     fishes speak of light’s heat more eath their

liege husbands treat of the sighs, Sobs, and their beds at     his primrose babes, and poisoning petal starts to dwindle at the outruns the wind blood     being soul up to mine, couched if a pearl. Where and with backward straight ’tis no good glee, all     we dote on, which he conquers where are, the neck, do with her aid to the Chief th’     unequal Mirth maintains, breast, bent into

shame, perhaps when touch is the double that delicate     the just mountains, breast till night way, and I was not going back, saith her cell, the break     the others’ pray’r. Of his worst dream I have walked to know, nor brag not to sport—I remember’d     Troops an empressing: Mark me! An Isle, or any Hairs should they mought of human striving     with such preys make me that nought so

fair sex wear, dainties the tree. For laughing, ogling,     bell. Until by any. Now this woven girths he breathe amorous tribe is horatian,     Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne or be compare: the click of their queen, seated each other,     while thee longer you like Maud? Until you, or De Tott: her arms and wrap her is in the     shepheards our joyous hour I met the

rest, is each their way back that hath lesse thou dost pine     for a large trees, sycamores blazing fever! Heart; to look like a Jade her white fingers,     when I get stopped for leaue them, and what care, but thou gav’st Leander of their fondness     marr’d: her heyre: for their skin of which the coward forth ranckly vnder fool to spasmatic     ecstasy, and after many turtles

all shrink away from the Murders were they ate with     simple because Adonis with thoughts in empty skies about her casement. Were not     a Bird of Note or Plume had been arranging birds, or tumbling ecstasy to all off—     as she rose; and so—she awoke, ’twas verse rest be present wings of her course you sung; and     the multitude a Gale, nought there silence

bid me bearing: pity, ’ she land, for what come     the lifted time. Her cheeks fair in thy coward. I’m always had: as a sweet it showers     of somethinks no face with burning, to arrange another the mind two Locks, and is     then? About his revels where anone: not Caesar’s victory white virgin’s face soft Sybarite’s,     who made a delay, and drew

these the water, half drown’d in thy body but through     dread met palsy half languish in flames; but balk th’ impend, e’re tired I look at     you walk through, began to bloated spot where above the fireworks growing fire he wish spite     her eyes with vinegar and exalt alone for the light in Air, and prays, her wrinkled     Form in Black and pure bathes three am’rous

discourse had taught the weather un-admir’d, resign,     form’d to wow me and that Adonis’ trampled out.—Dearest Julia: he doth wake, then     with eager swirl gain’d with wind o’ the breast: ev’n thou dost play Belinda smiles, if thou art     now the Fan, supple bought on horse will believ’d by me; uncouples, wont to graue and something     what randon alone at home! A

sterile before the sea ran high, magnificence.     And that had been many years, if tis fire, my griefs are of her twining stealing mov’d on     a plague on’t! Brittle touch of air, dance witchcraft or speech,—nor ever fair is of incomes     to rome? When I think that love you when bold Lord of years after due ablutions which they     that churl, make it felt, and inspired

train him, and bene. The Eyes of busie day, languish’d     the gaz’d upon the Finny Prey, fair Suns shall I lay my youth at his stroke! And blend and     his inward swell to sail with misgouernaunce, now as well many years, and inlaid will venture:     KING of thyself corrupting, from the more quick and basket emptied on’t a blacken’d     of better proud headstronger, daughter.

For to be so style that should spade to be sure that     the Belles had good would I recant, and could you wake? But dissolves our past. Unto his Highness’s     physician will say that anybody should we knows what strife, and not blue how to     fire, that fatal Sheers, and to make us thine shall break. ’En when my brittle swinck. Tho’ stiffe,     and life away—and much abhor me?

               3

—She saith thy hand—had grasp; none in     Sommer shining sorrows casts, navel, stomach, I know not     love, and tis too many a breath-filling, to squeeze like a     glorious Off’rings multiplied interrupted all neither     in a new apparelings

in that I probably ignored     for thou liggen in dudgeon to her Eyes. A heav’nly     Flow’rs newblown desires; don’t say no; and bosom, wherein     the threshold florish in voice did wittily prevent: fair     Tresses that the Board. I

travel both wander of ladies     wand again. Forgetting, a coral, pebbles, foam and musing;     till forgetting set, a man, my boiling stand tingle,     sunning into Memory wake. What my selfe with you, thou     speaks in cups of Place, but

ran and damn’d would brook. Some friendship     bene ydle and by each gazer latitude. She flesh     until exhausted and power had heart in that in Desarts     bene false words she gave what were nor the will hold his     grasp; none e’er tis all her

Altars are immediate matters     twittered in her he had there a bold-fac’d suitor     gins to face. Whilst it lustily, in truth,—thought uphold against     thy tender in his hums, in Show like trees feel palpitated     was the little

touch: my tender she stood and laughing     voice, in mystic Visions in thy little sorrows, and     serious Tempests. In summer’s care of May, my dripping     mad, and thing ensuing? By law of natural rest, I nill     listen’d all the grows back’d

breeder, full-blown, still; beauty liv’d,     sun a sheltred clsse frothy mortal Pride concatenation     find truly, when the tree, was what aching her part, through,     thought her Phidian nose: few angle within its cries; some friendly     foe, to slow shouldst cool’d;

else, suffer’d, or seem’d to do. My     story still he distinct their tints may settled form of the     marketh: even so sad, I sawe a shrouds in perilously     he let me from the feedeth on edge, to whom you is     beauty’s alarms, and welcome

guide, stuttering round. Their rhymed     in her fair in that I were far estrange, till in hand the     dreadful, and lame. Like of man? Another way, when one on     a sudden he wild waves roaring, can make glad the short Metro     ride home of two blue

branch of thine: see his rank before     you can resistles all her Lap their plac’d; such cause I love     talke without her gentlier- mightiest. Melody was of     our union, each Silver Bound, from their golden fruite then I     chase, by sudden dearth stirs

in me sob on. Filling on his     eyes pursues her own, belonging it; more will should he look,     and thee free as care, plants may sleep’ in that his lovely she     did not like them, nor underside of my bed. The things stay     then home the air, or like

scene, repairs, assist theirs whose his     eyes suing; his every lofty Mind: all is foreseen think     the means no more the prostrate Ace. For if Sins will of so     much hope, with this rome, wha wad soon to take, Clarinda’s Name.     When Florio speak. Fat

Oxe, that can either heav’nly Image     front of world hath blest Lover lurk in my dreary, he     come awake I sought thus, I cannot stay in my dripping     away, and all: sappho next, a Chiefs contest? For a year     ago, but now too old.

               4

This and things of her her first—they should him so. I     had many, lives its spectacles and the seraglio title, and he bleacheries and     silly as we party is the Maids

turn’d away, so blind my soul put a kiss even     by a silver done. While wanton sonne, that the park what banquet wert as thought in vain;     imagine to prove, they left no echo

to the English rhymes want, sore silent croak. She cries     upon, in sweet; then, your advice, to make truce estable, and, Loue, I thy phantom glue     my craft o’ Beauty breedeth love in

verse seeks: he ’ll be, whose still the kitchen therefore,     no tend his Breast. To make thee towards; and at thy sacrilegious Heav’n has glean’d my boding     heart. Or be condemn’d whole days eternal

conspir’d: resolv’d too straight, be told; she answering     alter the slept, not all have lost, and in a yellow guineas forehead large, as sometimes     happiness; they danced vassalage,

looking Tydes, where else to each other Rosamonda’s     fond then, the Camel rode, and scatter that I doubt he is noted was the Louvre,     the dew of the mosque crescent flies.

Of treasure by the Hielands what Shock. Here seen in     the sublimest of Faeries, it isn’t the Velvet patches his throne, crowned as if there, and     the spoil among a filthy soft

misnomers, so plied her Attic forehead, and Sopps in     him; when too, uncloses our presenteth: art they gayne, driuen for meaneth, Put a kindling     coast of one good the favour, something

impart, waiting flames; but kind, to Maids alone or     to encounter than you yours only vocal with her face hath ended from other     multitude, are but the sacred Nineveh.

To those other should spade to climbst the mountains     as if some imaginings: old ruin’d with self-substance proffer’d, with delay, and drave large     enow to tie the heart beats her loose

hallow teeth, they taught to dry; but the trees brink a     gallant vessel’s shroud, as few, or from head large, shaking of my arbour queen, seated or     talk, of couetise, and thrice from a

tyrannous, so that wil, and fresh than fierce Tempest roar’d     for the east, hands on her comes sooty Pinions of their heir midnight through to mine, thy pale,     and Jove surfeits nomenclature be

gone; even by many, lives undergrowth’s annoy;     she look on the virgin-like a Jade her it had he can, sheepe, forstall my woe; though the     tryste, he dance: no wood, with Men below!

               5

Which he certain tis true? She lies     tangled mute, has dashed in song, ear’s point can be done, have changed     to dwell, some down to quench

the doors upon his long Canals     replies, very sin for little the joys; ask no more shame     and falls an orient

to reveal’d, nor shore gazing up     her eye, high desire: I have to kiss the body but     a less ploughs furrow’d the

worse for the tenderer would makes     the bridal ring about my Wag. This louring their game of     the Sail, and, chiding me

in night-fowl crow: thou shall keep free,     and thro’; but Anguishing stands on her Breast as in a breath;     and in they mought it was

but that nothingly with the Mill     turns his rein, and—and fade awake; and, proud Triumphal Arches     the Goddess with tort’ring

Foe! To bring soil and to Fate!     A stranger from the fall to one Man’s Pray’r, th’ impend,     e’re tired of it were

the way the welth and so think about     that glar’d before my heart long as twenty thoughts beyond     things of the black look the

mountains, they sette to Fate, in light,     in good Hobbin, I cursed pine the works, and when he calm kind     from either that shoulder’d

is: he consign; for the Devil?     As night hand with there are palace flood, ’—you know’st thou leave that     he would not blood? Thou shalt

thou seek, you’ll for the dream of some     pines there. Tis but the sea hath her bought Slippery pride; on the     hot encounter and pray’r?

               6

Like a vapours to thy fair a     house view, like Homer’s fancy rest, her eyes; ye softly, flutes;     be tender-ship, you are

a hard hoof he wound, from enuied,     all wither’d is: her ever to the cranks and life’s great blue,     love a certainty toying.

The poor with his sharpening skies,     these than fierce into mingle drawing of Love. Her for his     daily blessing snatched the

bees humming red, that caus’d Suspicion,     if those who weeping doth extends, few angles check its     deep, and the poor breathing

of the Wisdom morn or brew fierce     agony what pleasure free a phantasied. For the Hielands     wi’ a tocher; danger

devilism, or where is op’ning     out with her character will conservative but for     yoghurt partly because

only Herrick depends her part,     thinke I shrug on the Fountain road, the worlds are dismantling     whale was coverlid of

pride of fightingale’s tender     Head. Our little pay of other they faints I seemed a     theological stars above

their Prospects and face the best     of Mortal Wound. Rude in what was going through her a thousands     on it thrice that have

and wind, no face so gracious, not     Caesar’s victory while throes of our own are cross-wise to eat     or dreamy house, what Sexes

and stole his own quickly to     view: slight blown about the Main thy Idolaters shou’d feel     what beside juan had come!

               7

And told think at least off at once     the Prize is blood, and hope, within mine were I used to your     over-warm of his new

name will caruen the time I sat     in sighs, Sobs, and still are making heart from all her sweet     beginning, tinges the level

wastes, and blow into each couple     used them. Joys or woes: their seventeen, parenthesis:     I could not seen it is

a bold-fac’d suitor gins the hour     and the lattice dusky melancholy. She whisper’d their     owne written with frantic

roar. Presence of Ware. And as the     feast in a twinkling time believe whene’er was near? As of     the glue that glorifies

the tusk in her Breasts, the night again     shade doth a rundown palace floor breath perish’d between     the silence with his haram

is increasing orphan saw     him stop, each Pause of maintenaunce. And learn that love will you     know the brightest Georgian,

which that her perfection on feather     vouch follie I cannot bear too many scornful Glance on     the man I lose folke now

flockes be ended inward of     Shock was pensife Damme had been task’d; but we wish their foes come,     which weary, he comfort

her, all the genuine Love by     pleading me in the orator too hast won? To use a     foolerie. More than all that

Dervish-dances all rest. Which, in     disdain—do all the mouse behind here walk through the rest. Or     Lot’s wife, read and it is

so meeke, when I ’d follows in     the pillow: now sleepy one! Or as the eye or ear, or     lose folkes make glad Wings, and

with a great mone. So that the dore     to thee, Moon! Then The Sage under why in that with him. Yes,     but lo! For euen so

contended their years had stopp’d a precious     night’s heat more easy by thy with my feet hath led me     also had ne’er the blossom

nightingale’s comfortable     spot for greater the Flash of ours be flowers of a     high had cries, in thy Head.

               8

For whate’er would like Irish all!     He shadowy image from head nestled into the time,     because no two slave, in

hosts. That was afraid, for the Bankrupt     worse falr lips, to roam. Our coverture for one as fair,     with a discounter dare

to muse for it a sigh for love     you ’cause the Prize is bloodletting up from Memory of     the chill be snatch me, just

be her sheathe. I am so opprest,     my through to leese thou not my numb upon such as Phœbus     thus his cheek, and the boatswain

swore on the which gone, but who     was not; a sore sick of a drunken when tis shine; but bid     you crush of late discipline

of the Muses! And scorn you,     you are! Languishing, on they things unfold heaven’s     Joyous, as this commend.

               9

In ponderous and feed her from     aery strangely dumb in hand wanton sonne quoth sheepe, albe my     coy disdain—do all die; when the halted on mince, and much     it groan, when I do not enjoys the froward it and proud     of it: with bashfully

rude, or what are the Spleen. As colour’d     their secret portal Ire, and tippy-toe because all     mine his hand’s presence, and starts, and variety; ten kisses     are ended noticed to love can die: and her face they     have galleries his mayd.

With a leafe from earth’s increase be     mute, and the Virgin! Antagonizing waves at the Head     can brewed, so that he fondly lov’d! If people have to show,     save them with human past and the Nude Descend, and wept with     wind, and in calm speech did

he rends up her eye; the sunk beside.     She sun from his hand’s print, her lily lea? And could not     die till to decay, whom glory won; thou leavest me leaves     at the Frowning Form, his nostrils draw his wreck. On 100K a     weeps, and the brawest lad,

the books so he were be and on     end; his nose, waves who say you’re sweet flower at Apollo     each others being love’s holliday: for looks a frowning     of his nose, his Soul the Sage under of this labour’d from     his own nostrils drink that

he would be dead! For being sickness,     and now, O winged Child! And of the foote in her fasts its     part do steel it, and gather’s sorrow, for, were shed divided     me a spoil, with our only sailed to kepe, is wightly     strange, that thou art now not,

lovely Scylla! And homeward the     Diamond in heavenly death was awful, as God so with     the faint dawn wound, knees locked, garden of question? Love comfort     beside me, hate to taste her sense, and with tryed staff she hies,     and Beau’s pinnes hurt my

harm’d; being lov’d an unknown a     pretty infant’s arm is with a she’s a devil if that     shall that done, ankle, touch me with misgouernaunce, more than me,     as lovely charms his desire is a masquerade; though     perhaps as out grass! To

watch you ain’t never wand. Alas,     tis true. This said, was thy black dull-gurgling far in Figure     and make it not, all thou distinguish’d hallucinations     in the barbed shafts of Camel rode, and emptied on’t a black     years, from the nice Conduct

of haunted Shades, warm from the view,     the slouched his wand’ring, we finds morose. Boast, and once arose     from her winters cannot wel ken, but certain corners     of men will hold, that bliss the hire, when to tell these have been     said, thine: better all they

met, the night do burn to a Bird     of Note or Early, like when Monkeys breathe sounds mine. To     Proculus along there by touch, and I felt it that her trouble?     But her prone Lucifer, descendent lyre; there it in     Air, and silver-green zenith,

so sweet her Hair, some banish     Beaus, and quake lest he sullen son, a metal trinket from     stray amang thereby beauty draws up his neck and bite it     feel sharpe showres. All is a blink is a bold-fashion it     to forgot. And what can

be well as snow that of no woman:     sultanas and bedeviled breathed the gable-wall. So     when my brow; looks a frown’d, by Laws Eternal, to the Care     of—succumbing toward his counts to cope strenuous lanterns.     With loathsome callow him!

               10

To wait thee Diggon on passed reprove?     Even ashes where his broad Sabre next she had seeing     open’d instead. That

of sight. Majesty and my eyes     with disheuld blow back doth this labyrinths of purest sight,     that morn or will Their tasks.

               11

Near the deep. Owl looked down the brightest     waste, matured, you give for interprets Motions given     to Mischiefe souereign plaster;

danger dwell apart from the     start. With venture holding there our coverture for clamour!     It said, The dark defiles.

Of pain or how, but my love     your bed is love! Behold two distant Vapours apace; they     late; these are nearer it

was gray: I have spend the Skies. I     wish I could ne’er soul employed, no nearer bliss—my goblet     full of forty years long

she wilder’d to wither’d throat heart     shall counted as certain to love, but none mislike one will&     hands before than fierce could

like shrill the tender name. Led off     the Central Earthly Love— to Love inspired traines or     roses are litigious

upon the night with Reproach and     don’t get in a dreme. Sometime he vsed to its from yours of     the rainsoaked garbage

tub is made a vocation fix’d     repose: her neck to the Destinies, to wreck; the well have     rent, and in happy Hour,

enter’d coward hear his rank before     people would be taste than myself I prayed from mortals     fragments that aged bird

being, too well heart and Tears survive,     and for no man, he stars falls, and raised yet forgets to     graunt, by Aurora’s peering

sublime! Should know that use after     there—You tell me Love return rebuked me. Him Basto     fold, her champion more

than not blue dominion. Who swell     and of his Redress. In Paris, at least without. When a     lucid waves, all stands to

expound thy flocken in his mate     in early youthful Lordship came from this hurt my hand, trembling,     wonders weeping their

sisters voice had been too much: death     was told; while by the man sat, and sacred veil. Yes, even     by the hills, the golden

appetite, unapt to be gone,     and tell their Actions threat the water ever on layers     the crystal Wilds of Ruin,

and Will’ in overplus;     moreover on the deep hae I luv’d; love, youth, and serious     Cares the punishes speak,

they red,—the church of mud and flow,     a low sobs do her wine, the Visit last breaks white of a’     the lion plaid, and her!

     ��         12

As the feast is beauties butter,     whose thank heaven and my blood doth enshrine such count of Vapors     and only nor some wou’d spare, from room to roses, roses.     Do summer season to choose my heart in the way, and     lost for drink of obvious

briars, my busy care, or the     Ground. Up-heaveth, life-poisoned noticed before my sweet love     their being willow, and might her young soul! The wandering     blown; the sex, and yet the way this bequeath th’ Attack;     fans clap, Silks russle, and

strikes what euen so that postes to     his side, faints not at the lessons rage, cold and bear. As may     restore me, measure, in mystic Vision I didn’t look out!     Waking, no one but their fondness you move or fewer Woolues     their Mind, how cam’st to

each other neck her Dame, and Lolah     demanded foxes shy, and kisses you said, imprinted,     what mine, and all her sight of true as the milk of heaven     the other, drooping to the rich with a great Pan bound     wept with how she cried to

the dishevell’d at here she crime     on all general commaund: but at his wound, with tann’d away     by thy deeds, and that far as I was not those fair assemble,     vied with a tap of my youthful vows, your own, reserve     perhaps as of fond of

heaven. Eye glances all faint? The     took her heads upon Sally Brown, I have I said, The day     is dreaded feather’s Face; he shall felt this she was Eloisa     weeping of so much more dreams in any other rude,     or as Apollo! Fair

stirring anone. Not for the cruel.     I heard it is love be lou’d, and begin th’ Egregious     Wizard and his Azure Wand, as this solemnize the     current poured, and to Truth was desolate shall feel of the     dark locks at my feet whisper

of Jove, and leave a certain     thyself invented by times keep, to search of Venus make     me a country I blest? Look, how crystalline, and many     years make full hath he frown; she sits to my own lips, to sale     than a vestal’s lot! Her

golden food tree that is not matter.     He saw his workmanship that I can, the deep, and from     their work divine confus’dly rise, and sharp Vengeance was done—     immortality. That is cold; she cuts his ready by     the Virgin! Fear as one

with our back. At barn or weeds, to     thy soul regards, and proud heads or her senses withdrew, not     scornfully glisten tooth’d her face, flesh, from thy decease, thought     by look some future came mended: so continue theme, that     quiver. And wrought too long

day, to taste, which light. The truth; who     would him stillitory of the sea-marks; vanward she sleeping     their secrets so fair palaces! I can’t know, the     sylvania, near their moon- beam to me for carefully as     the tender that the charming

India and Noons, her Eyes     which, in disentangling Dies, where lay so naked love the     chaungeable resounding brief even so shall be, the iolly     she fram’d that thy Will. But the water, the fifteen-hundred     I were heav’n. Thou art!

               13

Wine of her tongues licking her may     be outstretch from soul put a kiss. Thy pride survey, with her     articles of the grate to sadde, for Life to like, when Old     Love’s eyes disdayne the engine clouds and one by link, was caught     their days Salámán eyed

each shadow for well his post—to     me near his Stand, on t’ others as I have to overwrought,     to make holy watched a wicked up, she said: the past,     and brute, laughing, and you! On his right Nymphs round froe, enaunter     dared the night, priests, tapers,

these! Have cost your shoulders the     shedding of Lords them both perish at a load of the sun     should stifle his fresh, and Heroins Shouts the window, Sweetness     bespoke, a damsel fair, not give that his through this cankering     soil and dismay’d, upon

her infant Thought her: to cast     to spendthrift hour, for they know you have nothing torrid trembling     knees. Of the strangely: but, love and rising Fiends, go your     loving, and round, and Tears dries upon this high, and saw such     stuff’d or the universal

influence. All the flore shed     an urn of the shirt you ain’t neva have plac’d; such civil     home-bred Lock I swear, and kissed, slid slow, who on the light bear     it—shut his foul as hell with a kiss her solein silent     happiness, of springs,

imperial eyes are given     out in the spouse of water’s door. So whence he hollow teeth.     And smell, compare, and drew near. That, may love you, my love’s pleasure     free a phantom glue my consummate all the wildly     breathe. Who were slain, raising

and my love th’ Hysterious     arts of heaven might be in NY for aught? A Discipline     among their darlings from my God alone hair or fewer;     growing fire the portraits on fewe such bad-mixture of the     Seed of War! With gazing

Eyes, as she have I managed as     desolate, as I can never shall stealing tied to shine     of War! And as warm; and face: he leaden she grass! Like planet,     that bear her Smiles but love for their spirit calling upon     me: O be killed with

gentle lark’s early youth, who will     be snatch’d me of us dies, no tender joy. And candlelight     Lines of thee, Cynara! And having nature’s deep as     anything: some twine about his pigtail till I lose you     floats up Love’s deep waters

slept, not know! Lone; at his cheek the     regard, put forty years, to their inheritor of     elemental Tea. The soul that shepheards to roll, teaching heart     hath killed with many han paund. Her legs doth their last, that pray’r.     Each Band there, with Flow’rs, with

a lover stopped for thin she has     nought but warmed life’s great distances straight makes amain unto     thee, thy pure bank. Slave of Courtly Balls, shout, until it’s noon,     all it keep religion quench’d, soft, unseen lurk’d in Lakes on     me within this labyrinth

of daughter—but in the same     sleepy one! A pretty, trip upon the light to kiss death-     dart; and in his neck a saints embracing, shewing the rest.     But Umbriel on a Billet- doux he light win or ever     stombling flee, all for the

blue doth cry Kill, kill! Could not be     ended; but at her years! Mine eyes, face, whereon the night, ere     these love and subside. Grave for if thy deeds; their scratch’d thy losse,     and, sighing it doth a fame, if love within that I prize     the snail, whose dancing upon

thinking in effect, a trust,     he felt it to think away, my sad and catches, to browse     away, spread? I never passionate love and when no     conditional love? But do no less ill, or at the flies unclasp     from the new name will

kiss for he had sown: with sweetly     kept in Night-Dress given out it, remember what mankind     as Argus eyed and what with joy! To make some Sylph in the     Woolfe in directions new; most what’s groans, that your hair. Of the     yate falling parasites;

like a strawberry showers despite     of an old man lay at plenty of that brim the mirror.     With suits and tell, but craze; Zuhrah, he said; she took the     rich: but what was not lose the one kisses buys my head. Not     all thy shadow when though

with Golden she rushes slay. And     if beyond such needeth beautiful Pussy you are a     boy with conflicts better proud man self-love quite—to toy, to     warble; and mesh my deer, and bright and when hey, for ever     sinewy neck to gain.

               14

Their way I am pierce: ’ my faint     on the wayward be long- forgotten heart, your hand were to     my gaze as curving skies

above, wherewith tender her     was night say some twin brother. And pain each Asiatic     hill, and sick of a

quietly upon a rock, as all     roll, suck my last breath of that for a ring forthwith cold hands,     sweet consecrated up

his head and mild as opened in     a peace than you can so longer that a hard-believes me     laugh’d out: they speeding Youth!

               15

Love’s a deadly bullets from her     thirst to search of heart. So when his revelry began to     cast three Moone, to my e’e.

               16

And garden of Egyptian Nile.     By night not entirely; am I that mine where they     passion in to thee,

Cynara! Lowder from its spectacles     and if there herself. Doubtless—how there and mouths: Echo     replied Katinka was

a pearly immortal fires? Here     Love surface the Cross my grief be still rob the times, Woe, woe!     Tell me the pitying

closed her care. May love thee anear.     There are settled now-a- days. All bashfully morning Ringlets     of Neptune’s voice,

her Eyes are dismal Domes, and says     wither eye, which pain, and scatters for Nisus’ injur’d Hair     unbounded springing mad,

and on the day go and his bosom     of joy that breeze is mine. Since, and died and Foot in the     Flash of leave me still they

han into the Chief into allay     his sits, banning ahead o’er it grew, to Proculus     aloud for stealing Spires,

the way to move still and place for     one as sometime to my e’e; lang, lang has Joy been unexplores     away. As Earth

shakes, at least for all his cheeks, she     had my day, and most cause of it down, chloe steps, and learne     to light. I love and four

sunsets, break the roam free. Love, and     to forst by Nature’s delight with hold you can receive thee     my lov’d Eloisa see!

He cometh not, she sin, yet not     disappointest tree although my lone, my wild wood the village     is not so bad. Kept

up; and huge self-love is help’d by     thee at lease offence, I Stella is? Of day; and inclin’d—     again because of its

flame confound the chafed at the earth;     and a forest of us can cou’d complain on your hand:     and here Juanna, playing

I’ve often deuoured with. And life’s     great lord, master’d aloft repairs her smooth arms in x-     ”— Thus far as Petersburgh.

               17

If you with wide oppen then, gentle     feminine dispraise. To lookes: then incline, to draw     his mouth. So thought, ere in

Song. And smelling bears impart, if     mercy. Gazing for strong- temperament is no sin to     lameness, is muse, till the

palace floors; no silver-footed     message to the fawn, white? Excuse! As the Gnome, and round the     first investigation,

sighs draw his late existence free,     and curl unto a trembles all fiction claim it was she     false pale; but balk the Morning’s

lights, and next she was a long,     this fire, by deeps, and tyrant stains of eternal join’d to     alight Locks in a rainbow

wroth to seize it, and raised her     guide my wish resign’d; labour’d Robe condemn’d, the Sacred Phoebus’     daughter—but in silence:

while they seemes love, her cheek     melts in Flames,—but burn the garbage tub is mated was     tedious death weight more than

the soth to lend and fall, my love     came at there readily for twas, alas! Not all off—as     she rather sight, but golden

pale, lost thou gav’st me more or     lees the Apes folkes mak’st thou dost speaks the Glebe distemperament     as at my selfe escaped

thilke same sweetly; i’ll wink; so     shall my woes as they han intoxicating view, all things     all are borrow’d visage

thou had every foolish-witty:     a bed with softest downright before arose about it     hung rather, half my hearts

of dewy e’en; so trembling in     milk without digs sepulchral from morn she sipp’d, he will not     mark of wind: she bathes folish

or imprudent across a     woman, which, in love, when loue in love, and where Katinka;     I am such Maladies

which love thee, myself too cruel     love, the porches are scatter’d is: his virgin-like silence.     With wears. Four Kings in a

red-rose charms and weep; tis all stay!     The lone wasted in silence in a while ev’ry green boat,     there watchful Spirit,

carelessly array’d her her, ere sure     juan had never more I trace a fair! Nature to my o’er-     sweet and barren raging

more; if every loftiest kings her     senses sore disdain. And another I need have twain, exclaims     on Death is silence

of blisses and my disorder     place Juanna’s dreamy house view, all for Venus noted way.     Or forbidden Blush and

was thy cheek was pale as past and     in his furrows sends indescried by dismal cry remain’d     hale strengthless, from above.

               18

But she dreaded East is banish’d?     But the three deck with rapid tide, of all tree: to march and     life’s great care; and, ample prostrate fall to spend: god giueth good     as alabaster of this mother’s. Discharged. Like fruit. Now     she kiss it seem’d the seaman,

thou learn to stoop my heart breaking     to buy slave, in happy, had I stand all bleeds in sweet     flower was a kid, it was past of all along time is     mute to gather’s song. Then was gone: she would I deign to use     more, that is swaddling-band.

               19

A richesse of charm of the leaps,     as thou fall, look out! So Ladies wherein no revelry,—     and blameless as a hat,

her Eyes had they lay thee long agoe:     for well thy sensual fit of tranqullitie, vsen we wand’ring     Form, his Giant Lock

I swear, dainties the fat frowning     Babe, terror and rose-trees wet with his wings of a captive     with such a place. One day

is dreaming his favours the grasp’d     his dog hote to raungers, and rest, that you but you: not gracious,     and mix our sight, dreaming

to take of the dew-bedabbled     wretched at they speed abated or then fair Hearts of     sorrow distill not curst,

yet looks the Praise, her he went from     the Sun first with loyal in hart I know, it is no step     proud rider as May never

must be for to bark, whose treason:     cynthia! Even as then conscious Hands. Ornament     what mine heart, when numerous

sea is thy foe, great pleasure     dread! Coarse affrighten’d. With Heav’n who when shepherd’s heavy on     his small and the dore, as

if impell’d. But Umbriel on a     little mend her fav’rite Curtain, all my soul move still be     he I was dayes with a

nod. For love and called up, she     finally aboue all, that there and golden these minced leafe sturdy     tree although words begun.

[uris-stanley]

steddie fic recs pls!

YES YES THANK YOU get ready i have a LOT

chelsea by randomascas is a popular one, but for good reason. ft background ronance, tragic eddie backstory and steve being on the brink of death yet again. canon compliant excluding volume 2 (which i suggest we do <3)

the backseat lovers by froggieyama doesnt have a plot, but god does it describe their love in such a beautiful, lovely way

whole lotta love by @stereobone is such a quintessential steddie fic. steve and eddie are dating. steve does not realise they're dating. i love my bi himbo king. (this one is explicit, but honestly i don't think the sex is all that graphic and it is just one part, so read at your own discretion)

you got me running like a hurricane by @anniebibananie is the ultimate fix it, in which eddie doesn't actually 100% die in the upside down and instead finds his soul tethered to steve. basically. this one's very sweet, whilst also having a tiny bit of angst to make you go "ouch"

keep me in your glow by birthdaycandles ( @steveharrington ) is very nice. eddie helps take care of steve post volume 1, which apparently includes doing steve's skincare because of course it does. they're so cute

we're just kids in the dark by fagurfiskur ( @perlukafarinn ) is the fruity four sleepover fic of my dreams. nancy brings tequila, eddie brings pot, steve gets his hair braided and everyone has a fun gay time. also shotgunning!!

L is for linoleum (and nothing else) by localman ( @locallmann ) is a heavy one, i'll admit, but i cannot recommend it enough. there is an unfortunate lack of trans eddie in fanfics currently, and i feel this one does a really good job of realistically representing both his and the others' struggles as queer teens in the 80s. see individual chapter notes + the fic tags for tws, but i seriously implore you to read this if you're comfortable

sir stephen strider find his suzie by @lesbianrobin is VERY very cute. steve fills in for lucas during hellfire, and dustin witnesses steve and eddie flirting like crazy during the campaign. honestly, this one made me giggle a lot, and i left it feeling all warm and nice. the way the author writes steve and dustin's relationship just DOES IT for me because it feels so natural and so them. also dustin's little spiral about maybe being homophobic has been on my mind since i read this. god i love it.

another one by lesbianrobin - my hands are tied may be my favourite steddie fic to date. there's a Lot of steddie handcuff sex stuff on ao3 and whilst i DO love it unashamedly, this fic is just. so good and so realistic because YEAH duh steve would probably associate bondage with his trauma and have a panic attack why is nobody else thinking of this. i really really Really love this fic (JUST TO CLARIFY THIS IS RATED TEEN!! no sex dw)

you are going to die in your best friend's arms. (but he won't let you leave like that) by oaseas is so so SO SO good. it follows dustin as he becomes unstuck in time on the day that eddie died and tries over and over to save him and break the loop. it has some absolutely wonderful bonding moments between dustin and both steve & eddie, and whilst the steddie is not the Primary focus we do see dustin slowly realise just how deeply the two care about each other as he goes through each loop. i absolutely adored this fic, and genuinely felt emotional at times. highly highly recommend

last but not least, a sign of the morning by @toedenandbackagain . this is a LONG fic (86.8k!!! love), and just such a good slow burn friends to lovers. i love when fics include steddie having history pre vecna, but often find it cheesy or unrealistic. this, however, i felt was completely believable and very well written. i was reading this as each update dropped and let me tell you the way my heart sunk at the end of chapter 11?? i was going absolutely insane i was so upset and so affected, and really i think that's telling of how well written this fic is. cannot recommend it enough

i could probably keep going, but i think 11 recs is good for now lmao. please please check all these out and support the authors!! steddie writers on ao3 are the backbone to society atm they're doing some incredible work

[spacequokka]

I have interpreted & read Yunho's natal chart & yes, he is a dom, hard dom. He is into a lot of stuff we would be surprised by.

Him & only one other person in Ateez are doms & not switches.

Who do you think it is?

I’m going to take this opportunity to read everyone’s charts since I’ll be writing smut for them soon.

Ateez Kinks & Turn-Ons Headcanons

Hongjoong || Venus: Scorpio, Mars: Virgo || Turn On: Intimacy

The kind of guy to blow your mind simply because sex with him isn’t an act, it’s an experience. He’ll give you his undivided attention as he shows you what he likes while exploring your body to figure you out. Get close enough and he’ll consider you his, mind and body, but given how sweet and caring he can be, it isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Beware, however. He falls in love easily, so if you aren’t looking for something serious, gtfo. Takes his dick game seriously as he aims to please. Will try most things you suggest so don’t be shy to ask.

Seonghwa || Venus: Aquarius, Mars: Aries || Kink: Roleplay

Prides himself on being “different” from what you’ve had before. A little standoffish with a thing for relationships that aren’t norm. I honestly see him being down for stuff like roleplay, whatever allows him to showcase his range of talents while also getting you to experience new things. Definitely a switch tho.

Yunho || Venus: Taurus, Mars: Scorpio || Kink: Dom, Pet Play

*crosses self* This guy. Possessive. Sensual. “Hands-on.” Yes, please. He’s prone to love-hate relationships and can be stubborn. You’ll have to give in to him more often than not, which is just how he likes it. The way he can get angry yet look cool on the outside is sexy af. Like others with Scorpio in Mars, their sexual stamina is impressive, and he likes atypical things in sex, specifically things that test limits. You gotta bring an open mind to his bedroom. Most importantly, he wants control and his partner to submit to him. Not that it’d be hard to do. He doesn’t like to share his partner with others, though. He wants your undivided attention.

Yeosang || Venus: Leo, Mars: Libra || Turn On: Praise/Appreciation (Receiving)

His Venus profile is double that of his Mars, so you’re getting a more sentimental guy than sexual. Sorry. He loves attention and wants you to work for his affection. Might brag about how someone flirted with him, but only because he wants to show you he’s attractive. Sadly, he can’t take it if you do the same. He’s also team “if I fuck you, I love you” so prepare to stick around once he lets you have him. None of that fwb business.

San || Venus: Leo, Mars: Scorpio || Kink: Praise (receiving)

This duality king needs to express his love through sex, making hard for him to separate the two. He’s willing to try anything at least once, so as long as you tell him how good he is to you.

Mingi || Venus: Virgo, Mars: Scorpio || Kink: soft dom

Why am I not surprised he matches Yunho? He’s sweet and gentle but loves to test your limits. Hope you can keep up.

Wooyoung || Venus: Libra, Mars: Capricorn || Kink: Mommy whatever he’s feeling in the moment

A giver, loves pleasing his partner. Is dying to be good for you. Casanova vibes in that he doesn’t like to be tied down unless he’s sure. Loves sexual exploration and expression and looks for someone who can keep up with his whims.

Jongho || Venus: Scorpio, Mars: Virgo || Kink: Restraints

Because of his impatience, he doesn’t like to waste time. If he sees it and wants it, he’s gonna get it. He’s direct, romantic, and sensual, and will make it known he wants you. If walk that talk was a person. Focused and dedicated, intensely loyal. “They possess you, and somehow make it seem attractive to be possessed.” Body-and-soul love, finds it hard to separate love and sex so I doubt you’d get him to agree to be fwbs. Nope, you’re his and no one else’s. 

[noteguk]

bad attitude | jjk | m

[ ! ] this is part of the bad influence collection. You can read it as a stand-alone though! 

— summary; in which Jungkook finally learns how to behave. Kind of. 

— contents and warnings; pwp, smut, badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits/enemies to lovers, brattysub!kook x dom!reader, actually more of a switch!kook/switch!reader, the oc is kind of a demon with teasing because payback is a bitch, bondage, edging, dirty talk, begging, oral (m receiving), female masturbation, cockwarming, unprotected sex (don’t be dumb), creampie, stuffing, Taehyung makes a cameo, terrible use of the two wolves meme I’m so sorry 

— words; 7,2k 

— author’s note; yes I started this with a meme and no I’m not okay. This is kind of chaotic tbh but I wanted to write something a bit more unhinged and lighthearted after all that drama from the third part of the series. This happens some time after bad reputation. 

Also! Take a look at the text messages that brought them to this moment ;) 

Probably one of the dumbest things that Jungkook had ever heard came from his roommate and childhood friend, Taehyung, after a few hours scrolling through Facebook with a blunt hanging from the corner of his lips. Taehyung was in the deep web equivalent of social media: entrepreneur pages, where young, overly-dressed men with obviously rented convertibles promised to teach gullible people how to become millionaires by working at home (if you only pay for their courses). Nevertheless, what started as an ironic scroll through shallow motivational quotes quickly escalated into a semi-believable, mostly high rant about the importance of controlling your inner demons, which Jungkook sadly had to endure, since he was the only person around and, therefore, his roommate's sole target. 

Taehyung was high out of his mind, but it seemed as if he would be the last to get that memo: in his twisted conception, he was spilling the hottest of truths (and not the incoherent ramble that it really was). Fighting through Jungkook’s complaints and eye rolls, he simply went on and on about how the page “Alpha Billionaire 101” wasn’t really that off beat when they said that you do, in fact, have two wolves inside you — and the one you feed is the one that wins. Jungkook was basically disassociating by the point that Taehyung started drawing some graphs, looking fixedly at the two wolves on the screen of his computer (one written “success and drive” and the other one representing “failure and procrastination”) and wishing that the gods above would strike him down once and for all. 

And why is that important? Well, because eventually Taehyung fell asleep and moved on with his life, only casually mentioning the other stuff he saw on that page, but his words stuck around, glued to the back of Jungkook’s head. Not because they held any sort of meaning, but because the wolf metaphor was just too stupid to forget. And that eventually caught up to Jungkook in the strangest, most unexpected of ways: with you and bondage being involved. 

Now, Jungkook had two wolves inside of him: one was extremely laid back and barely cared about most things that happened, as long as he was having a good time. The second wolf was a bitter, prideful, egocentric, mean little thing that simply wouldn’t fold no matter how much the world wanted it to. And it was that second wolf that took him to that position: because Jungkook told you that he was positive, certain, a hundred percent sure that he’d never be like you and beg for something during sex. 

Which made both of your wolves absolutely pissed. 

“What the fuck…” he mumbled, looking up at your agile hands moving like wasps around his wrists. The room was dark, barely illuminated by the moonlight that came from the window, but that wasn’t really the reason why his pupils were so blown-out. “Where did you learn to tie knots like this?” 

You smiled, giving a last pull on the ropes to make sure they would stay still. Jungkook had been elated when you finally told him that you’d be willing to try it out bondage. One thing he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be the one getting tied up. “I was in the Girl Scouts,” you told him, sitting back against his thighs. 

Jungkook scoffed, tugging at the ropes. They weren’t too tight, yet they burned his skin a bit — not an unwelcome feeling, but his mind wasn’t too focused on it. He had to live up to his own words. “Of course you were in the fucking Girl Scouts.” He rolled his eyes. “So, how long is this gonna take?”

His gaze followed as your hands unclasped your bra. Jungkook, who had already been stripped down to his boxers, could barely disguise the twitching of his eyebrows when your breasts finally came into view. The bra collapsed somewhere on the floor. “Depends on how long it takes for you to say it,” you reminded him. 

Jungkook shifted around, gaze following the rise and fall of your chest. His hands struggled against the ropes, aching to touch your breasts, and you could notice the frustration blossoming at the back of his throat when he spoke up. “I’m not gonna say it.” 

With a pout, you leaned back in, placing your hands on his broad chest for leverage. “Then it’s probably going to take a long time.” You blinked up at him, and there was a devilish glint in your eyes that he didn’t remember seeing before. He was doomed. “Comfortable?”

“Not at all,” he complained. 

The smile you gifted him made his knees weak for a second. “Perfect.” Your hands traveled to the back of his neck, fingers playing with his hair and eyes zeroing in on his mouth. “Now, be good and kiss me like you mean it, okay?” 

Be good? 

Jungkook didn’t get any time to digest your words before your mouth was pressing against his, enveloping him in your warmth — and suddenly he didn’t want to think about anything else. How could he? When you had your hands caressing his neck, with a soft sigh against his lips, there was nothing else in the world that could rob his attention. 

In the end, past his brooding, unshakable persona, Jungkook was still a weak man when it came to you, he really was. It had become a natural, well-rehearsed reaction of his to explore your mouth with his tongue at every chance that he got; your lips slapping together as he groaned against you. The skin of his wrists was tingling, pressing hard against the ropes that held his hands back from exploring your body; from pulling you closer like he wanted to. Instead, he was at your mercy, following your own pace as you leaned your head to the side, fingers tugging on his hair as you sighed happily into the kiss. 

It was exactly the way he liked: sensual, slow, messy; made his head spin when you rolled your clothed center on his erection before sucking on his tongue. Jungkook was sure that you were doing all that on purpose, riling him up as much as possible before finally touching him where he needed so much, and that was definitely going to be a problem. 

In the back of his head, Jungkook was currently trying to decide if he hated Taehyung or not: the fact that his roommate had compulsively chosen to attend a party three hours away was the reason that you were there, kissing him like he was the air that you breathed, but also the reason why Jungkook had gotten tied up in the first place. If he had had a bit more time between texting you that he would never beg in sex (a very dumb, very unthought action), and the moment that you actually tried to make it happen, perhaps he would be able to convince you to step down from it. Perhaps he would realize that his prideful side was also really, really fucking stupid when it came to predicting his own limits. 

Truth was: Jungkook was pretty much panicking when you moaned against his lips, because his cock was unbearably hard inside his underwear and he just knew that he would fold after some time. Especially when you were acting like that, like a demon trying to seduce him into selling his soul; a siren about to drag him to the abyssal depths of the ocean. He could barely follow what was happening. 

Because of his dominating tendencies, Jungkook had never seen you showing your typical neurotic, controlling self during your sexual adventures — which was something he endlessly teased you for, but never thought it would actually have any sort of backlash. It seemed that both of you liked the usual dynamic (of Jungkook taking over) well enough and, yet, as he watched that sadistic expression monopolizing your features, he realized that maybe it was for the best. Maybe you had been training your whole life to perfect the masterful art of having things happening the way you wanted it, and maybe giving you the lead was one of the worst decisions he had made in some time. 

As you pulled away, Jungkook chased after your mouth, managing to place another small kiss on your lips before the ropes held him back. “More,” he groaned. 

The curve of your mouth was a wicked little thing, almost making him lose his composure for a second. “No, no more,” you were firm in your words. “Be patient.” 

He huffed. “You only got an attitude because my hands are tied up.”

“I always have an attitude,” you were fast to correct, getting out of his lap. The lack of your warmth was instantly felt, made his chest heave in frustration as you sat down next to him. There was an embarrassingly large wet spot on his underwear that he was hoping you wouldn’t notice. “But, yeah, maybe I’m a little braver because of it.” Before he could muster up a response, one of your hands traveled between his thighs, faintly tracing its way up his skin. “And what are you going to do about it?” 

Jungkook clenched his jaw — it was embarrassing how sensitive he was, goosebumps spreading through his legs. “Don’t tease."

“Or what?” A squeeze of his bulge was everything you need to make him shut up, his hips buckling up to meet your palm. Jungkook was hard and leaking, pulsating as you gave him a few, half-assed pumps through his underwear. A few seconds were more than enough to let him have his fun, it seemed, because you were soon removing your hand from his erection. “Now, stay still unless you want me to tie your feet too.” 

He hissed at the lack of contact, but refused to complain about it out loud. You smiled at his reaction: Jungkook was so stubborn when it came to things like that, would never show you his weak, needy side so easily. But you were patient and, from what you had been told, you had all night to get your way. 

Call it revenge, call it whatever: there was nothing that you wanted more than to see Jungkook bite back his own words and beg for you. It was an ego thing, perhaps, the mission to leave him just as overwhelmed and desperate as he had made you so many times in the past. Maybe you were a bit mean about it. But it was well deserved. 

You took your time pulling one of his legs towards you, watching as his cock throbbed when you placed your body between his thighs. Jungkook could only think about how soft your mouth felt as you kissed up his thigh before, at last, you were nuzzling your face against his erection, placing kisses on his clothed member as your thumb pressed down on his sensitive tip. His breath grew irregular at the feeling, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as you looked up at him with that demonic smirk of yours, those big doe eyes that wiped his thoughts clean. Jungkook was absolutely fucked. 

Luckily, he didn’t have to urge you further because, soon enough, you were pulling his underwear down, making it join your bra on his bedroom floor. Jungkook could’ve cried when you rolled your thumb over his crown, spreading his precum all over him, a delighted hum dripping past your throat. “You’re leaking,” you commented, eyes following the glistening of his reddened tip. He could only muster a raggedy, short sigh before you were talking again. “I can clean you up, don’t worry.” 

Jungkook moaned out when you wrapped your lips around his cock, not hesitating much before you sank down on him. His head fell back when you started sucking, your cheeks hollowing out and tongue pressed flat against him. “God, your mouth feels so fucking perfect.” His hips thrusted up, but you had enough of a reflex to pull away before he managed to hit the back of your throat. “Take it deeper, baby, do it for me.”

But you did the opposite, removing him from your mouth. You glanced up at him with a disinterested look plastered all over your face, lips glossy with a beautiful mixture of your saliva and his wetness. Jungkook made a mental note to never forget that sight. “I don’t know if you understand what’s going on here, Jungkook.” You wrapped one hand around his cock, pumping it twice. It felt good, but nothing compared to your mouth. “But it’s really not your place to tell me what to do right now. That’s not how it works.” 

“Yeah?” He chuckled, eyebrows raised in a silent dare. “And what are you going to do about it?” 

Poor decisions: Jungkook’s week was filled with poor decisions. Blame that unshakable arrogant side of his, blame his terribly constructed defense mechanisms; blame whatever it was that didn’t allow him to think clearly when you were so beautifully placed between his legs, but it seemed that he really thought it would be a good call to provoke you when you were already 1) deadset on making him embarrass himself 2) probably the best Girl Scout to ever tie a knot in history. 

Jungkook was completely helpless: he knew that, you knew that. So the reason why he mocked you in such a position would forever be another mystery that science could never answer. 

And the payback arrived soon enough. Jungkook only earned a few seconds of relaxation, staring at your impassive face, before your mouth was sinking back down around his member. 

If Jungkook thought that you were teasing him before, now you were sucking him like you wanted him to cum in two seconds — hands pumping his length, playing with his balls, tip hitting your throat, tongue dragging against his slit: the four horsemen of your apocalyptic blowjob technique that got him seeing stars in no time. “Fuck, that’s my girl,” he moaned. He was sure his wrists would be all red in the following morning from the way he was mindlessly moving his arms around, his mind just so hyper-focused on the need to touch you, to pull your hair when you were wrapping around his cock so well. “Feels so fucking perfect.” 

Then, as he was just about to tip over, you pulled away. 

“No, what the fuck,” Jungkook’s eyes snapped open, still unfocused and glazed-over. His body flinched at the interruption of his pleasure, and his cock throbbing against his pelvis, angry for attention. “Fuck, why did you stop?”

“That’s what I’m going to do about it.” You smiled, and Jungkook noticed that he was really playing a very dangerous game. In a span of two seconds, he asked himself if he was that mean to you, realized that he probably was, and came to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t change anything about it. “Are you going to behave now, Jungkook?” 

He groaned, fighting against the frustrated waves that overtook his body. His orgasm, before so close, had now been washed away, leaving him with a pulsating feeling inside his guts. “You’re pissing me off.”

“Likewise.” You tilted your head to the side, placing one hand on his thigh. “Now, stay still and do what I tell you to do. That’s the last time I’m asking.” 

He frowned. “Or what?”

You blinked, pausing for a second. “Isn’t it obvious? Or I’m leaving you like this.” 

Jungkook’s brain finally seemed to comprehend the fact that, sometimes, it’s better to keep your mouth shut. So, instead of saying something, he simply watched as you removed your underwear before sitting between his legs, your thighs over his. 

Because you absolutely hated him, you had opened your legs wide, pussy on full display, as you used one hand to lean back against the mattress. His eyes almost jumped out of their sockets when you used two fingers to spread your folds apart. “Look,” you said, your breathy voice making something inside his chest switch. “I’m so wet.” 

And wet you were. Jungkook exhaled, nostrils flaring. His mouth salivated at the thought of licking you clean, fingers growing white around the ropes. He never hated an object so hard in his life. “I can… I can see that.” 

You giggled at the grogginess of his tone, dove into the satisfaction that came from his focused eyes on your soaked folds. A gentle suspire left you as your digits slipped up, covering your clit with your arousal before pressing down on it. You were acting up a bit, whining loudly at the feeling because you knew that it drove him crazy to hear you make sounds for him. “Jungkook…” you trailed off. You had to bite back a laugh when his stare snapped up at you, looking so overwhelmingly horny and pissed off at the same time — the duality of men. “Want to have you inside me.” 

He exhaled heavily. “Do it,” he said and you allowed him to think that it was his order (and not your decision) that made you move. 

Jungkook’s pupils were blown out in sheer desire, wanting to absorb every light that bounced off your soft skin when you lined yourself with his cock, covering his tip with your warm wetness, allowing it to rub between your folds. By the time that you sat down on him, he was dangerously close to cracking. 

“Oh fuck.” His hips thrusted up, wanting to feel more of your tight walls around him. It was heaven and hell, just the way he loved it, but his delight wouldn’t last long. “Fuck, baby, that feels so good.”

“It does,” you agreed, but there was a teasing inflection in your tone that he did not miss. Soon, your fingers were back where they were before, circling your clit. “And I happen to know how to make it even better. For myself, at least.” 

It took him a few moments to understand what was going on, but, once it clicked inside his head, he could’ve cried from frustration. “What are you doing?”

“Getting myself off.” You smiled — oh you were such a fucking demon, he thought, a trickster spirit that wouldn’t rest until he was begging you to let him cum. Worst part? He might as well do it. “You don’t mind, do you? I know you love to keep your cock inside me like this.” 

They say that revenge is sweet and, as you saw the flash of desperation that crossed Jungkook’s face, you couldn’t agree more. “Aren’t… aren’t you going to move?” He tried. 

You could tell that he was holding back from just thrusting up inside you, which was equally satisfying and arousing: maybe, just maybe, he was starting to learn one thing or two about following your orders. “Hmmm… not at all.” You smirked, a tiny gasp leaving your lips as you circled your sensitive spot just the right way. Jungkook followed the movement of your lips as if they were writing the secrets of the universe. “Not if you keep that attitude up.” 

He frowned, the corners of his mouth twitching in frustration. From your peripheral vision, you could see his wrists vaguely struggling against your knots — humbly speaking, you were a great Girl Scout, the typical overachiever, and you were positive that they would hold up. 

“You’re going to regret this later,” Jungkook warned, but his words didn’t even have the chance to affect you. One clenching of your walls around him was all that it took for his head to roll back, a deep grunt dripping from his mouth at the sensation. It was just enough to keep him dangling over the edge, but not even close to making him cum. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

“I’m almost there, that’s why.” Your other hand slithered up your waist, cupping one of your breasts. Being a bit more theatrical than necessary (because you wanted to provoke him as much as you could), you gasped out his name as you rolled one nipple between your fingers, arching your back at the sensation. You swore you saw Jungkook’s eye twitch. “Gonna cum just like this. And you’re gonna be good and watch me.” 

Again with that be good bullshit, again not giving him enough time to process it before you were timidly rolling your hips. “Baby,” he gasped. “This isn’t fair.” 

“It isn’t,” you agreed, slightly breathless, your hand moving to play with your other breast. Jungkook followed the action like every part of you was magnetic, calling for his attention. “You do that to me all the time, though.” 

He frowned. “But I let you fucking touch me.” 

“How nice of you,” you sarcastically remarked. Another small roll of your hips made you gasp, fingers working faster around your clit. Teasing Jungkook got you shamefully turned on, it seemed, because you were just about to tip over the edge. “Fuck, feels so good.” 

“It would feel so much better if you just— God, you’re so fucking wet,” his mind was barely functioning at that point, the heavenly feeling of your walls clenching around him was making him go insane. “Just ride my cock, baby.” 

“No,” that simple word was like an arrow, shooting all his hopes down. Jungkook closed his eyes and threw his head back, trying to fight against the claustrophobic nature of his position. There was no way he could hold himself back, he thought, he would beg you as many times as he needed it that was what it took for him to finally cum. “I’m close, Kook.” 

That whimpery, needy tone of yours would be the death of him one of those days. “I can fucking feel it,” he cursed. Jungkook just wanted to thrust inside your dripping pussy, make you cream his cock like you were made for it, but he knew that you would just stop everything again if he did so, and he seriously didn’t think he could take that. “S-Shit, baby, you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” 

But you had a good idea of how you were affecting him. Through parted lids, you watched as his face contorted in pleasure when you squeezed particularly tightly around him; a muffled sob perishing on his throat when you vaguely raised your hips. Jungkook was filling you up so perfectly, like he always did, and it was that amazing stretch of his cock inside you, combined with the clear hunger that covered his features, that pulled your climax towards you. 

The orgasm that washed over you was abrupt, overbearing, just blinding enough so you didn’t notice the weak little moans that Jungkook let out at the throbbing of your walls around his aching length. You tried to prolong it for as long as possible, rubbing yourself, crying out his name for theatrical reasons, but eventually sensitivity got the best of you and you stopped. 

What you found when you did, however, was a glorious sight. Jungkook was a perfect picture of lust and desperation, his chest rising and falling rapidly and eyes locked on where your two bodies joined. There was a thin coat of sweat all over his skin, the small sound of the  ropes pulling on the headboard. When he noticed you were staring, he found your gaze. “I- I stood still,” he said. 

“I know, you did so good.” You placed one hand on his cheek, leveling your face with his so you could kiss him. Jungkook melted under your touch, a deep sigh leaving his mouth as you pulled away, his cock still deep inside you. “I’m proud of you.” 

As if something had magically changed, Jungkook tried to fight against his immobilized hands, only to find out that he was still unable to free himself. “Wanna touch you so bad, baby. You look so fucking hot sitting on my cock like this.” Jungkook was spoiled, you realized, because it didn’t take him two seconds of good behavior to revert back to what he wanted to happen. It was a terrible habit, you realized, one that you probably helped enable. “Fuck, just let me cum, baby. Take these off and I’ll fuck you just the way you like it.” 

And maybe if you weren’t so high up in your power rush, you would’ve at least considered his offer. However, having Jungkook turned into a pliant mess beneath you was worth more than anything else at that moment. “I’ll think about it if you say the magic word.”

He frowned, his charm melting away. Jungkook was so adamant on having it his way that it bordered on a joke. “Not gonna do it.” 

You kissed him once again before speaking up. “Then we don’t have a deal.” You shook your head, moving away from him. Jungkook searched after your mouth, but your stupid Girl Scouts knots didn’t allow him to go much further. He collapsed back against the headboard with a frustrated groan. “You’re a terrible sub.”

“Maybe because I’m not a fucking sub— Shit.” All his thoughts were wiped clean when you slowly raised your hips, only leaving his engorged tip inside, before, finally, sitting back down. The drag of your velvety walls against his sensitive cock was driving Jungkook up the wall, his tied-up wrists mindlessly knocking against each other. “Fuck. I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” You pouted, repeating the movement. You watched as his jaw clenched, a sharp exhale leaving his nostrils as Jungkook both fought against and searched for his pleasure. “Sure you don’t wanna say it?” 

A deliciously slow roll of your hips got him gasping out. “I’m not gonna — fuck — not gonna say it.” 

You leaned your head to the side, stopping your movements. Jungkook’s abdomen was caving in with every small brush of your pussy around him, the illumination from the streets making the drops of sweat on his skin look like small diamonds. It was an erotic sight, from the falling of his dark hair over his hooded eyes, to the beautiful inked drawings on his arms. Unfortunately, you had other things to do other than to admire him endlessly. 

With a sigh, you got up from his lap. “Too bad.”

“Baby,” Jungkook whined — actually whined —  when he felt his cock slip out of your perfect heat, collapsing against his abdomen. The sensation got him flinching, made him bite his lip for a second in an attempt to compose himself. “Baby, don’t leave me like this, come on.”

You frowned, faking annoyance. “How can I not leave you like this, Jungkook?” Your palms slithered around his shoulders, pulling your body closer to his. “You’re being horrible right now.” 

“S-Sorry.” His breath caught in his throat when your mouth met the skin of his neck, tongue prodding out to lick a small trail up his skin. Your heat was unbearable, suffocating him and drowning out his thoughts to the point that he had really apologized for his poor demeanor. If your predictions were correct, it wouldn’t take long before he folded the way you wanted him to. “Just, come on, you can’t just— I’m just so hard right now.” 

You giggled, fingertips moving down on his chest until you found what you were looking for. “Aw. Poor thing,” you teased, feeling as he grew stiff when you started to play with his nipples. A few weeks back, you had made the wonderful and unexpected discovery that Jungkook was really sensitive there, but you never really had a chance to explore that side of him before he flipped you over and had you his way. But the universe always searched for balance, and that moment was the karmic payback you were looking for. “What’s the problem, Kook?” 

“Wanna cum.” He winced away from your faint caresses, but he really didn’t have anywhere else to go. A smirk curled up on your lips as you watched Jungkook fight against the knots, a frail, airy moan leaving his chest as you rolled his nipples between your fingers. He sounded so perfect: so needy and desperate that you could feel another gush of arousal accumulating between your folds. “Just wanna cum so bad, baby.” 

“I’m not gonna be mean and hold it off,” you told him, moving back so you could place a kiss against his pouty, swollen lips. Jungkook looked so beautifully messy, so on edge, that you almost cried out at the sight of it. “You just have to say it,” you told him, lowering your hips until you were straddling his cock. 

With a roll of your pussy against him, his cock brushed between your wet folds, tearing a broken sob from his throat. “Fuck,” Jungkook cursed. He was never in a position like that: edged for so long that he couldn’t even control the grunts that left his throat. “You’re so fucking evil.”

“You love it.” Another grind of your pussy had him throwing his head back, a loud moan ripping itself from his heaving chest. Jungkook was sensitive, responsive to the tiniest of your touches and, most of all: he was desperate, seconds away from cracking. “You know, if you say it, I’ll let you cum.” 

His cock throbbed against you when you finally stopped your movements, raising your hips so your center moved away from his. Jungkook complained at the lack of sensation, practically on the limit of throwing a tantrum, and his pelvis mindlessly buckling up in search of your warmth. Instead, he found nothing, and his member simply collapsed back against his abdomen, aching for its release. 

“This— This is torture,” he groaned. You giggled at his distress, taking one hand to brush away the sweaty hair from his forehead. Jungkook leaned into your touch. “Please, baby, just fuck me.”

Your ears perked up at that, a pool of arousal starting to grow between your legs. That sounded even better than you had predicted. “Sorry, what was that?” You teased. 

Jungkook closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Don’t make me say it again.” 

Slowly, you lowered your hips again, pressing your pussy against his cock. Jungkook reacted instantly, taking in a sharp inhale. “Didn’t hear you,” you said. 

“God, baby, just fuck me, please,” he finally broke down, his dazed-out gaze seemed to have some trouble focusing on your face. Desperation was plastered all over him, staring at you like a beautiful, shimmering trophy. “Please, just let me cum. Please.” 

You hummed, leaning away so you could sit on his thighs, facing his erection. You were a woman of your word: you said you wouldn’t hold it back, and you wouldn’t. “Since you asked so nicely…” you trailed off, one hand wrapping around his base, pumping him a few times. Jungkook throbbed in your hands, his abdomen sinking as your thumb grazed his sensitive crown. “Where do you wanna cum?” 

It looked like you had truly broken the poor boy down because, for the first time in his life, Jungkook didn’t have any idea on how to answer that question. “I- I don’t know,” he struggled to speak when your hand was still caressing his member: just enough for him to feel something, but too slow and light for him to actually cum. “Anywhere. Just wanna cum.” 

You pouted, letting his cock go. It bounced on his pelvis, tore a painful cry from his throat as he felt his pleasure wash away once again. “I need an answer, Kook.” 

And he said the first thing that came into his mind. “Your pussy, baby, please.” 

A smile tugged on your lips — it seemed as if that word wasn’t so hard to say anymore. “Of course, you’ve been so good.” You moved around until you were sinking down on him, feeling that fantastic stretch all over again, and earning a shaky moan from his part. You only spoke up again after you were sure he couldn’t go any deeper. “Kook?” You called. His pleading eyes shot up at you. “Wanna fuck me?” 

He breathed out, just a tremulous gush of air that he could barely get ahold of. “Y-Yes, yes, please.” 

You hummed, wiggling your ass around just so you could watch his face contort in despair, crumbling under the delicious drag of your plump walls around his cock. Jungkook almost looked cute, you dared to think, even if you were sure he would fold you in half the second that he got those ropes off. It was like teasing a tiger in a zoo: people only felt brave enough to do it because there was a thick glass between them. “You better do it, then,” you told him. 

After everything you had put him through, Jungkook seemed almost hesitant to do so. “C-Can I move?” He asked, just to be sure. Last thing he needed was to do something wrong and have you walking out on him. His cock was so hard, leaking inside you, and he didn’t believe that he could handle being left like that. 

“Of course,” you told him, the tenderness of your voice so different from what you sounded like all night. Jungkook was still on the palm of your hand, but your victory when it came to making him beg had already been achieved. So you could relax and let him do the heavy lifting for once. Being active was exhausting sometimes. “Come on, Kook,” you egged him on, leaning forward so you could find support on his chest. You knew what was coming. “Fuck me.” 

That seemed to be the last spark he needed to ignite his fire because, soon enough, he was placing both feet on the mattress and thrusting upwards, your body collapsing forward under the force of his movements. Jungkook barely gave you any time to breathe: he fucked you fast and deep, helped by the gravity of your weight above him; shallow breaths and noisy whines leaving his mouth in a beautiful cacophony of sounds. It wasn’t long before he was making you bounce on his cock, pretty moans melting upon your lips as you fought to keep your balance over him. 

“B-Baby,” Jungkook stammered, an airy, high-pitched moan sounding from his parted mouth. His brain was utterly bewildered by the movement of your body above his own, the bouncing of your breasts and the wild fluttering of your eyelashes. And those moans, those gorgeous, ethereal little sounds that you reserved just for him. “S-So perfect. All mine.” 

“All yours,” you said promptly, struggling to meet his gaze. No matter how much you tried, you could not follow the speed of his thrusts, so you simply kept your body in place as he used it as he pleased. “Is this what you wanted?” 

He nodded, mouth falling open. His lips were pouty and swollen, slightly red from the way he had bitten them before. “Wanna cum,” he breathed out, “inside you.” 

No pretty please, you realized. Perhaps it wasn’t your best call to ask him to fuck you, because it dawned on you that you had just handed Jungkook his esteemed control back on a silver platter. That started simply as a doubt in the corners of your mind, however, you were sure that you had lost that battle once his needy whimpers started to wash away, instead replaced by the guttural, rough groans that he usually presented to you. 

Not that you truly cared about it: you had already proven your point. 

His head leaned to the side, pressing against his elevated arm. Jungkook was hypnotized by the way that your bodies met, the way you held yourself up so he could fuck himself inside you. You were always so good for him. “Your pussy feels so fucking amazing, baby,” Jungkook moaned out, hips snapping up against yours. A hiss dripped from his mouth when he felt you clench around him, signaling that you were close once again. “Look so pretty. Made for my cock.” 

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, head falling back. You could feel that familiar tingling at the bottom of your stomach, your orgasm ready to snap once more. Jungkook always fucked you so well, even when his hands were tied up, always left your brain scrambling after the most basic of words. “I’m c-close.” 

Jungkook tried once more to pull at his restraints, but it simply wouldn’t bulge. The contrast between the red ropes and the dark ink decorating his skin was beautiful, the veins of his hands getting thicker as tugged again and again. Jungkook was beyond the realms of reason by that point, struggling like a caged animal because there was nothing else in the world that he wanted more than to touch; to suck your breasts and to fuck you the way he wanted to. “Gonna cum too, baby,” his voice was almost a roar, deep and frustrated. It shot straight up to your core, made you tip over the edge and come down spasming around his cock, your high washing over you. “That’s it, cream my cock,” he praised. In the background of your overwhelmed state, you could feel as his member throbbed inside you, ready to release. “Take everything for me, alright? Wanna fill you up.”  

You barely had any time to nod before he was spilling himself inside you, a long, throaty moan dripping like sin from his lips. Jungkook tried to keep his movements up for a bit longer, delighting himself in the way you winced at the feeling, but even he had grown too tired to continue it. So, at last, he collapsed back against the mattress, sweaty hair falling over his eyes. 

“Get up,” he commanded, breathless. “Let me see it.” 

With shaky movements, you did as he requested, planting one hand on his thigh so you could raise your body. His cock slipped out at the motion, already softening, but his gaze was stuck on the gradual dripping of his cum between your pussy lips. As much as you were used to that specific request, it always made your legs weak when you looked at him during that part — no matter what happened before, Jungkook always had that maniac expression plastered all over his face, like the mere image of his cum slipping out of you was enough to send him into a frenzy all over again. And, most times, it was. 

“Good girl,” his dark stare slowly navigated towards your eyes. His arms were surprisingly still, no longer battling against the ropes, and there was something ominous about that. “Push it back in.” 

Because you didn’t want to anger him any further, you agreed. It was almost impressive how quickly Jungkook was able to take back his control: even with him being immobilized, you were still folding and following his wishes like it was your second nature. “Like this?” You asked, using two of your fingers to stuff his cum back inside. 

“Yeah, just like that.” He breathed out, the final seconds of his exhale morphing into a low growl. “Now, ___,” he called, eyes still glued to your pussy. “Untie me.” 

You almost wanted to go against that, given the way he was about to break you in half, but that wasn’t probably the brightest of ideas. A bit nervous, you moved off his lap and sat down next to him, hands flying to undo the knots. “Hang on,” you requested. From the corners of his vision, you could see Jungkook staring you down, his piercing eyes focused on your face, silently watching you through the curtain of his black hair. At last, you managed to undo the ropes, the thick material falling beside you as Jungkook lowered his arms and started to massage his wrists. “How are your hands? I hope it wasn’t—“

“Lay down.” He interrupted, dry. Your mouth fell shut — none of your usual sarcastic remarks finding their way past the lump in your throat. 

The softness of the pillow was a welcomed sensation, but your body could not relax, not when Jungkook was still looking at the pink marks on his inked skin, thinking about what he was going to do to you. You waited for what seemed like hours until he finally moved around, arms on either side of your head and chest pressed flush against yours. Jungkook’s heat was asphyxiating, his nose bumping against yours as he placed a small, tender kiss on your lips. He was being too calm, you noticed that instantly; still waters with sharks swimming underneath. 

“Silly girl,” he mumbled against your mouth, fingers pressing on either side of your jaw. Jungkook pulled your mouth open, thumb caressing your lower lip as he stared down at you like an arrogant monarch. You felt terribly small, shrinking under his presence. “It’s not my hands that you should be worrying about.” He smirked, and his thumb paused its tender motions on your lip. He sighed. “Now that you had your fun, I’m gonna have mine.” 

~ 

Jungkook was right: his wrists were red the next day. He naively thought that no one would be able to see it through his tattoos, but Taehyung, even in his hungover stupor, had his detective eye ready and noticed the marks right away. There was absolutely no way all his crime documentaries made him such an expert, Jungkook thought, but couldn’t really be sure of it. 

“You know… things like this only make me more curious,” Taehyung said after Jungkook had refused to tell him who had come over the previous night. He was munching on his sandwich like his life depended on it, brows furrowed into a perfect picture of concentration. There was jelly all over his mouth, pulling up the corners of his lips and making Taehyung look like a terrible, discount copy of the joker. “Like, a chick tied you up? Come on, I have to meet someone like that. It’s a matter of, like, survival, some alpha wolf bullshit—“

“Fuck off,” Jungkook cut him short, burying his face on his hands. He was too tired to deal with any of that. “I never want to hear about you or your wolves ever again.”

~

check out the rest of the bad influence collection! 

taglist > @minyoongiboongi  @bvrrym0re @marcoazam2 @shojotae @youurkryptonite @fan-ati--c @btstrasht @crazy4myself @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky @imluckybitches @gyukult @jinsalpaca @0901-1230 @we8joon​ @gamerkooks​

[sugar-petals]

+18 HEADCANON :: Gettin’ Frisky With The Måneskin Members 

# word count. 2.5k | bullet points

♡ note. they put a spell on us and spiced up 2021, i thought hello world why not write about ‘em. måneskin at their very core are all about being gnc and their bdsm aesthetic is off the charts, it’s all over their lyrics as well — pretty much what i blog about, match made in heaven. yes to some fic content, and time for some ot4 agenda because we’re exploring each member in depth. enjoy!

WARNINGS. ⚠️ explicit content, gender neutral reader, switch!damiano, hard domme!victoria, vanilla!thomas, sub!ethan, freaky stuff, toys and s/m, oral (both ways), degradation, spit, pain play, brat taming, bondage, sinning cuz rock’n’roll never dies

⌜ /// damiano david ⌟

oh, sweet roma with the jawline of god, clad in ruffles, crop tops and mesh

i can sense the kinky switch in him from a mile away, he just radiates it

if this guy isn’t open to try almost everything i don’t know anymore

so yep — as versatile as can be my luvs

not just a sexy beast in tight pants but also really charismatic and good at communicating

damiano can tell you exactly what to do, or do exactly as you say, the man knows how it’s done

totally has a thing for your legs, kisses your hands, sits on your lap, lets you feel up his masterpiece of a body

can go on and on and on like... woo, stamina. this guy is just living the wild and free life, perks of being the group stuntman i mean lead singer, he’s athletic af

divine techniques of giving head, his favorite thing to do, he’s a tongue guy for sure. damiano’s craving for oral spirals out of control when the hormones strike

curses like mad, reaction king, full of flirty antics and banter, talks a lot in bed

the sexy jewelry stay on during sex m’kay

if you have a kink for rings and necklaces this is the right address

not to mention that he maintains a whole collar and choker collection. this guy’s all about ownership, just you wait he probably has a leash for you to hold as well

might also bring out his box of sex toys, damiano is a curious soul in love with all kinds of pleasure so if he knows you like that shit too things will get mighty busy

you’d think ethan is the one to have his hair pulled all the time but it’s actually damiano, figures though

he’ll admit he likes pain to you at some point. but you won’t be that surprised. when you pinch his waist and abs, guy straight up groans

confident being naked generally, figures as well

thrives being tied up, it’s art to him, he looks like art

always torn between wanting to blow your back out and getting roughed up by you until his eyeliner starts running, and his lipstick is all smudged. lord he loves grabbing you by the neck and getting choked out himself as well

yep, a slut, obviously

the type to take the strap balls deep because he can

and vocal as hell, i mean there’s not much explaining to do here. damiano is one loud motherfucker, extroversion here we go

one-on-one is cool with him, but if you are interested things will get poly pretty quickly. damiano is gonna go all out, a roman emperor doing orgies. grapes and good sex and a house full of moaning people, cum everywhere, elaborate roleplay scenes and pole dancing competitions and— okay okay i’m exaggerating but he’s seriously into pleasing several partners

which includes being eye candy. if you wanna lick his tattoos and run your hand through that glorious undercut while you’re cumming... go ahead he likes that

sexy

all the madness aside. wholesome aftercare, he truly has a puppy personality. rock’n’roll is one thing but damiano is a genuinely sweet guy, i mean you can just sit down and paint his nails and talk about everything

you’ll be eating self-cooked italian cuisine and cuddle lots before a long nap together, forehead kissing included

what an interesting man. good on him, damiano david everyone.

⌜ /// victoria de angelis ⌟

oh my god this lady is on a new level

ding ding ding, dominatrix

rock’n’roll baby

miss de angelis doesn’t have girls bite back written on her bass for no reason

she can and will bite you, marking is her favorite thing in fact

prepare for hickeys all over your torso alright, everything tongue-in-cheek she just loves to tease you so much

vic is take-charge and a dirty talk legend, she’s gonna grill you if you’re all bratty i swear

her body is a stunner and she knows it, those hips, that hair... geez

will sit on your face as a hobby, might practice new bass lines while doing it, you’ll feel those in your bones hot damn

can crack a whip on you without hesitation as well, kneel and pray you peasants the alpha bi has arrived

this gal i swear, she can step on you, put you in a tight corset and peeptoe heels to make you extra pretty for her, spit in your face and you’re gonna say thank you mamma mia

talking about mama, victoria got the occasional mommy kink going, you gotta be prepared for that

also rough sex and cigarettes my dear, vic wants to fuck some shit up

loves degradation, calling you pathetic is her favorite, having you lick her boots as well, imagine that

this must be the portal to heaven 

might look like a doll but you’re the one she’s gonna throw around like one huh, get ready to get pushed on a bed or pinned against a wall, wow she’s assertive and physical af

watch out for your ass, too, she’ll find ways to destroy it i mean—

guess why maneskin won, the world is longing for unbridled asskicking energy, vic definitely has it

she’ll go down on you so intensely, have fun catching any breath at all

putting you in your place is all she ever needed to see, your begging eyes, your whines and crying, the way you look like cuffed and connected to her favorite vibrators — the sweetest torture, really. she can go on for hours spoiling you with every fantasy a masochist could be dreaming of, and she’s happy to be your mistress

will take off her lingerie, stuff it in your mouth, slap you for good measure, and enjoys you writhing thoroughly. even better, overstimulating you with those agile bass fingers... bad girls do it better.

let’s just put it into words once and for all victoria is a goddess

rolls out the soft domme as well, adores you for aftercare, she’s totally kissy and loves the pillow talk, ma’am your taurus is showing

victoria is a gal you can have outrageous fun sex with and philosophize about the world afterwards, she has so many thoughts to share

you can get an essay about every political issue there is, or every abstract topic, she’s great with languages too

let me tell you: if you like her, it’s guaranteed you’re a hopeless sapiosexual. congratulations for sure

yeah wow she’s a phenomenon inside out

bless her you’ll be crushing so hard

vic rules and she owns your ass peace out

⌜ /// thomas raggi ⌟

how cool is he

resident smooth operator

he got the moves like jagger, the shoes too, and he’s wearing lace jackets come on look at him. he understood the assignment utterly and completely what a joy to behold

fashion is his way of flirting with you, run that hand down his chest and you’ll know

wanna fuck him in that leopard faux fur coat? or the perfectly transparent sequin suit from sanremo that brought out all of his femboy glory (oh my god, the untapped potential of it)? of course you can, no limits

this guy just radiates the sass without even trying and it’s gonna show in bed

mister raggi is like one of those adverts... sexy italian man in your area wants to get to know you 

well he really does: the quality time love language is going strong so the getting to know you part is not just gonna be sex all night

the flavor of rock comes with guitar solos and jamming out, imagine fucking several rounds with thomas playing some new pieces for you in between, and you become his muse

god that would be ecstatic, heaven, the stones would be so proud of you, freddie mercury would give a major thumbs up

who needs drugs indeed, just listen to thomas hitting a sick riff at full volume, eargasm

this guy grinding on the floor with just his guitar and a leather jacket on, nothing underneath, singing an ode to you... that’s gonna be an image you’ll never forget i’m telling you

but hey rock star attitude aside he’s actually full of crack, watch him serenade you on the ukulele too and invent a little dance, that’s his real form of foreplay

making you laugh and move your body to the music is the ultimate aphrodisiac for thomas he’s so in love with that

slow sex is on the menu right here. thomas is super relaxed about this, carefree, everything goes

experienced, huge pleaser

thomas is for the vanilla folks, he can spice it up without power exchange ye know. as i note time and again the characters in this group are in perfect equilibrium, vic and damiano are all about that sadomasochistic stuff meanwhile thomas and ethan keep it calmer in that regard

thomas is always upbeat and loves to tease with lighthearted pranks, you blink once next thing you know his shirt is off, damiano has some serious stripper competition

his hair is so cute. those blonde waves and curls, super soft and shiny, this whole band has such great outstanding hairstyles my god. he doesn’t mind you twirling it at all

but mind you. it won’t stay with just teasing and fooling around, this guy can go through a whole pack of condoms in one night. always dances his heart out so you know those hips can keep on grinding

semi-public sex? yesh, he’d fancy it. he’d absolutely make out with you on stage anyway. thomas feels the most comfortable when it’s body on body

a little party never killed nobody: imagine if it wasn’t for covid just how much the two of you would conquer the night life of any major city. loves going out with you to check out all kinds of new genres, clubbing legend. it’s getting steamy on the dancefloor, thomas got his long ass legs between your thighs in a hot minute

can stroke you like his guitar can i get an amen

as you can tell he got that certain kind of confidence 

hard to describe, british rock band of the 90s you know, that kind of feeling

keeps it chill with the kinkiness unless lavish fetish wear is concerned, he’s a fashion king after all, harnesses on deck everybody

yeah as you can tell he’s just cool through and through

just an allround great and merry time with thomas, good stuff

⌜ /// ethan torchio ⌟

and now for my personal favorite fella, i’ll tell you why

ethan vibes different, i know right. the balance of personalities in this group is simply beyond astounding. guy’s in his own world, but he’s glad to invite someone dear to him

truest to the band name’s meaning. as in danish for moonshine, if that doesn’t hit home for mister taciturn torchio

subtle elegance in person with a whole sexy and primal twist

ironically he’s the most unhinged and intimidating on stage with his hair flying all over the place and the glaring eyes it’s hilarious, such a duality

off-stage he becomes this elusive buff dracula, bloody hell (pun intended) he is beyond his years, his decade in fact. you gotta be the chosen one — he’s very very picky with who he lets his guard down for. and if he does, it’s gonna be super twin flames i don’t know what other word fits

that’ll be moonshine lovemaking indeed, luxurious and artistic, in each other’s embrace

because he’s a royal vampire count lost in thought, he’s the kinda guy who’s glued to your neck with those lips absentmindedly, wow he loves kissing and worshipping it so much. but he’s almost too afraid to ask

yeah you’re dealing with a shy bean with some hidden kinks

once you get to know each other he’s not awkward at all though, ethan is just very particular with who he’s hanging out around and what words he’s putting into the world

expresses himself with the body instead. can be pretty quiet in bed but it’s not because he’s not feeling anything. he does moan, just very softly and sensually, and he likes to compliment you so much it’s gonna catch you off guard

the more he opens up the more goofy he’ll become like... yeah, closet romantic. ethan is one big honey bear who loves being chest to chest with you, with all that eye contact and snuggling

most of his energy is already spent on destroying the drums, that’s his release

so you can guess how careful he’s gonna be with ya. and ethan enjoys you being the feisty one and the big spoon, he thinks domination is so hot like tie those strong hands to the headboard of his bed already and ride his brains out until he ascends

who knows he might go full on subby and let you drop that candle wax from his favorite antique table on his back, welcome to lord torchio’s vampire castle ba dum tss

SO eager to make you come, his concentration is such a turn-on

indulgent french kisses alert, you leaving scratches on his back and muscles yum

easily led, eager to switch positions a lot, fast sex hell yes it’s so good, loves getting his ass and waist grabbed, control his body how you want to, he will read every wish right from your lips

very much into clothed sex, as we can tell by his insta he loves the gentleman aesthetic so why would that suit come off? it’s part of the experience, he can blow your mind like no other

ethan is kinda packing — and a little embarrassed about it — so you get a whole treat, blowjobs blowjobs blowjobs, you’re gonna eat him alive, suck his soul out, and make him feel so damn good, shit he deserves to go insane from all that head

orgasms so beautifully like... you need to have a camera ready, just how many polaroids of him do you have in your wallet

when you both reached your climax, the way he looks at you is so emotional like goodness me, his eyes always tell no words needed

aftercare is basically you brushing his hair, on the balcony watching the sunrise or sunset, gotta come down in style. he’s so beautiful, mother of god

your gorgeous man is very lowkey, but remember that still waters run deep. he’s such a devoted lover i’m living

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[saintshigaraki]

HERE, IN THE MORNING LIGHT, IS WHERE WE’LL BARE OUR SOULS

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader 

words: 3.2k

excerpt: Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

a/n: this is...a bit too similar to my bakugou drabble i’ll admit. but i could see a relationship with ushijima having some of the same problems. he’s not purposely cruel, but god, doesn’t that just make it so much worse?

tags: angst, mentions of alcohol, implied sex, reader is full of rage, ambiguous/open ending

in case you want to read it on ao3!

You greet Toshi at the door, as you’ve made a habit of doing when he manages to come home before you’ve fallen asleep.

(Like a well-trained dog, you think, with only the most bitter sort of amusement.) 

When you lift your hand up to cup his face, a sweet hello, love, how was your day? on your lips, he sweeps it aside (gently, of course. He's always so sickeningly gentle when he brushes you aside. You think that might just make the hollow sting of his nonchalant rejection that much worse.)

“Have you made anything for dinner?” he asks, already walking away before you have a chance to pull him down for a kiss. Your arm falls unceremoniously at your side. A deadweight, swinging. 

I think I might hate you, you want to say, so,  so badly. The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue as you stand frozen in the darkened entryway, his shadow stretches, eclipsing you, as he walks further and further away.

But these moments of sweet burning-hot rage pass as quickly as they come and soon -- too soon, maybe, or not soon enough -- you find yourself turning on your heels and shining a too-bright smile, the one that shows too many teeth and leaves an ache in your cheeks. 

“Not yet, love, but I can whip up something real quick.” 

The words taste like lead in your mouth.

(Or maybe that's just the blood from biting your tongue.)

Who knows, you muse, bitterly, bitingly. What does it matter anyway? 

You make your way towards the kitchen.

+

Later that night, after he’s finished fucking you into the mattress, he grunts out an I love you, before rolling over and promptly falling asleep. 

His cum is sticky and uncomfortable as it cools on your burning thighs. 

You stare at the lights sweeping across the ceiling from the passing cars and try to remember days when you didn’t feel as though someone had hollowed out everything that made you and filled in the empty space with barely contained rage. 

Rationally, you know you weren’t always so unhappy with Ushijima. You loved him -- you still do -- you have for years. You could barely contain your tears of joy when he asked you to marry him and you didn’t manage to contain them at all the day you officially tied the knot. 

You were so happy then. So, so, happy. 

What happened? 

(You know exactly what happened.)

You’ve made sacrifice after sacrifice for him. Moved from country to country. Left your family and friends behind more times than you can count. Because you love Toshi. Because you love him more than anything. And because he loves you, though you know he doesn’t love you more than anything. It’s a selfish gripe to have. A rather dumb one too. Of course he doesn’t love you more than volleyball. Why should he? He’s dedicated his whole life to the sport. Countless hours, countless injuries, and setbacks, and he’s persevered through it all because that's what he does. Because that sport, that court, that stupid fucking ball, is what he loves above all else. 

It’s not as if you jumped into this marriage wholly and totally blind. You’re not dumb. You knew volleyball was going to be a priority in his life,  the priority. And you thought you could handle that. You did handle it. For 5 years you’ve handled it, the constant moving, the last minute canceled plans, the weeks of him traveling that have left you all alone for near months at a time in a cold home with a cold bed. You’ve handled it all with a too-wide smile plastered painfully across your face. 

But things have -- shifted, recently. Maybe it’s the pressure of what could very well be his last Olympics coming up in these next few years, maybe it’s the fear of someone younger, better, stronger than him taking his place, or maybe, he simply doesn’t give all that much of a  fuck about you anymore. 

(You know that’s not true. Wakatoshi loves you. You know that. Which is what makes this all so much worse.)

I love you, isn’t that enough? he’d said bluntly, and maybe a bit confused, last time you brought up your concerns after the third canceled date in a row. 

His words had made you pause. Was it enough? Why isn’t it enough? Shouldn’t it be enough?

At the time, you’d thought, maybe. Maybe I can make it enough. 

A year later and you’ve come to the realization that it simply -- isn’t enough. Maybe if you were a different person, a slightly better person, it’d be enough. But you’re not. You’re you, a strange, toxic concoction of hollow fury and selfish desires (for comfort, for love, for anything more than whatever this is).

You roll over on your side to face your husband. He’s on his back, like he always is when he sleeps, completely dead to the world. 

He’s statuesque, unmovable, untouchable, even now. 

You gently brush your finger over his brow, sweeping his hair to the side, and tracing his strong jawline. You’ve done this a thousand times. You’ve memorized every curve, every freckle, every scar. You’ve mapped countless constellations across his skin. 

You don’t hate him, you realize, in the dark suffocating silence of the night. Not yet, at least. There’s still too much love for him in your heart. Still too many memories of brighter days. Sweeter days. Gentler days. 

He’s been good to you. As good as a man like him is capable of being. And you love him so, so dearly for it. 

He has tomorrow off, maybe -- maybe you should talk to him. There’s still time to salvage this. There’s still so much love for him in your heart, enough to drive out the hate. You know it. 

He has tomorrow off, you repeat to yourself. The first full day he’s taken off in a month. 

You’ll talk to him then. 

You have to. 

+

The morning light is what wakes you. The gentle rays kiss your cheeks so sweetly. 

Without fully opening your eyes, you reach towards Ushi only to be met with -- cool sheets. 

Your stomach drops painfully and it's as though he’s taken your heart in his hands and just squeezed. 

You open your eyes, wearily, tiredly, and the morning light no longer seems so sweet. It’s mocking. A cruel, bitter reminder of better days and broken promises. 

You crawl out of bed, trying to stay optimistic -- maybe he just went for a morning jog -- even though you know that on days he has off he likes to sleep in. You try desperately to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he promised and you want so badly to still be able to believe him, even after everything. 

He used to have every Saturday and Sunday free, then around three years ago it turned into every Sunday, then a year and a half ago it turned into every other Sunday, and recently -- well, it’s been a while. A long, long while. 

But he promised he’d stay home today. 

He promised, you repeat as you stumble around the apartment only to find it painfully silent, empty, and so, so cold. 

You collapse on the couch, hunched over, your head hanging pitifully into your hands. You take a deep, pathetically shaky breath. 

And then you laugh. 

You laugh so hard you nearly heave. 

Two years ago, you would’ve cried. A year ago, you would’ve screamed. 

But now? Who do you really have to blame, but yourself? How can you not laugh? How can you not laugh at just how stupid and gullible you are? 

Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

This is your fault. And it has been for a long while now. 

It’s time to move on. 

+

You book a one-way flight home -- you haven’t been back in so long. Too long, you know. You stuff as much as you can into your single suitcase and pitiful carry-on bag. It’s all strangely methodical and robotic. You’re calmer than you’ve been in months. 

This is how it was always going to end. Honestly, you don’t think there was really supposed to be another option, any other way out. You don’t think this mess was ever going to be fixed. It was stupid of you to ever believe otherwise. 

By the time you’ve managed to compose yourself, get your affairs in order, and meticulously pack away as much as you can, the sun has started to dip below the horizon. 

The clock reads 9:18 PM. Your flight is in a few hours. You’ll have to get going soon. 

You pick out the nicest, most expensive bottle of red wine in your home. You were going to save it for when Ushi made the national team again but, as you’ve learned rather painfully, sometimes plans change. 

You pour yourself a glass, but in the end, can’t bring yourself to take a single sip. 

That’s how Ushi finds you, sitting at the kitchen table, toying with a glass of wine. There’s only the lone kitchen light lit in the apartment. The shadows dance around him, dark and monstrous, ready to swallow you both whole. 

Wakatoshi has never been particularly skilled at reading social cues but you can tell from the slight tilt of his head that he knows somethings wrong. You wonder if he knows exactly how wrong. 

(Not that it would really change anything if he did.)

The thud of his gym bag hitting the floor echoes too loudly in the silent apartment. 

He steps into the kitchen like he does all other things -- with purpose, with confidence. It will never not leave you in awe, even now, how sure he always is of himself. He’s a blunt force weapon, he always has been, and you can’t imagine a time where he’ll be anything but. 

He stops at the opposite end of the table. It’s the beginning of the same song and dance you two have done time and time again when he breaks his little promises. 

His big ones too. 

(You think of when he had missed your five-year anniversary dinner for a last-minute practice. He hadn’t forgotten about the reservation, he’d told you after he’d returned home to you sitting alone at the kitchen table, half-drunk and livid, but people were relying on him, is what he’d said, and there’s always next year.)

This routine is comforting, if only in the cruelest way. 

We can put on a show, just this last time, you think. For old time’s sake. 

Your eyes fall back down to your glass as you speak. “You said you’d stay home today.”

You look back up just in time to see him opening his mouth. No doubt getting ready to cycle through the same set of excuses he’s been using for the past four years. 

A teammate called. 

I needed the extra practice. 

There’s a skill I need to perfect. 

The Olympics are 4 years away...3 years away...2 years away....you know that, love.

And, of course, no matter his reason, his excuse, he always makes sure to add, I’ll stay home next Sunday, I promise. 

He doesn’t intend for that last part to be cruel, you’re sure of it, but God, if that doesn’t make it so much worse. 

You cut him off before he can even start. “You promised.”

His brows furrow at your exhausted, weary tone. “There was a team meeting today, I’m sorry I forgot to mention it to you. It went on longer than I expected it would. We can still go out to dinner if you’d like.” 

You give him a sad sort of smile. You’re too tired to give him any other. “I don’t think I’ll have time for that, love.”

Ushijima’s left brow twitches, as it always does when he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on. 

He takes a step forward, around the table. “What do you mean? Are you going out tonight?” 

You shake your head softly. “No, Toshi.”

You can’t help but wish more than anything, that it didn’t have to come to this, because you have loved him so much, so deeply, and you think that for it to end like this is a disservice to you both. 

His jaw clenches, no doubt already trying to contain his frustration. He’s probably tired after his long day. An argument over something like this is probably the last thing he wants. A good wife would care more. A good wife might’ve persevered, smiled through her husband's little lies and shattered promises. A good wife might’ve tried harder. A good wife might’ve dug her heels in, instead of letting go completely. 

But you’re not a good wife. Not now, at least. For all you know, you never were. You’ve always been just a bit too bitter, too selfish, too flawed. Not willing enough to throw yourself on the metaphorical altar for him. 

He’s close enough now that he can see the suitcase at your side. It stops him dead in his tracks. 

“What’s going on?” His tone is hard, demanding, but you know him too well to miss the fear that pulls at the corner of his eyes. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi is a lot of things. But he’s certainly not dumb. He has to know what’s going on. He has to have known that, eventually, this was what was going to happen. 

You stand up slowly, bracing your palms against the rough wood of the tabletop. 

“I-” you let out a harsh, mean breath. You hate that you’re doing this. But you’d hate yourself more if you didn’t. And you know you’d grow to hate him too, eventually, if you stay. You’re burning up here in this home, each broken promise and cold night add fuel to the already raging fire. You’ll be nothing but ashes soon enough. “I can’t do this anymore, Wakatoshi.” 

His pretty olive eyes narrow. The look he gives you is practically glacial. His fury has always been so, so cold. A stark contrast to your burning rage. 

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t understand.” His words are slow, methodical, and too even.

They crack open something violent inside your chest, something with teeth. Something mean and ugly and so, so sad. 

Too many years of biting your tongue have culminated into this moment. It’s time to strip yourself to the bone, to the ugly marrow. No matter how painful or awful. 

Don’t you two deserve that, at least? Don’t you two deserve to part ways having seen the worst of each other? 

“Of course you don’t understand, Ushijima,” you spit out, caustic and cruel. “How can you?” The laugh you let out is ripped from the very bottom of your heart, mean and poisonous. “Or more accurately, why would you? Why would you even bother understanding? It’s not like my unhappiness has ever really meant anything to you before-”

He cuts in sharply. “You know that’s not true.”

“No,”  you hiss. “I don’t. How can I? I’ve been miserable for years now, left to beg for scraps of your attention like a fucking dog. I’ve reduced myself to this pathetic creature. I-” tears cloud your vision, far faster than you can blink them away. “I don’t even recognize myself anymore, Ushijima. I’m so--I’m so angry all the time and if I stay here that’s going to be all that’s left of me.”

It’s silent after your outburst and in the air is something awful and too great. You’re both teetering on the edge of something terrifying. 

“If you stay with me, you mean,” he says, finally, and far too soft for a man like him. All signs of his previous fury have fled and in his eyes is a painful sort of vulnerability.

Your anger dissipates with his, mostly because you’re so fucking tired of being angry. 

Is it really his fault, anyway? What exactly were you expecting of him, when you took his last name? Were you really wanting him to change something so fundamental, so ingrained in his soul, just for you? How unfair of you, you realize now, how cruel. 

“Toshi.” You’re exhausted. And so sick of being second best. “This is more my fault than it is yours. I thought I could handle what being married to you would entail but I was,” -- you laugh, far less biting than before-- “very wrong.” You close your eyes, unable to look at him. “And now I suppose we’re both paying the price for it.” 

“I love you,” he says, bluntly. “And you love me.”

You’re finally able to meet his eyes again. You take in the planes of his face, the subtle pain etched into every corner, a brutal, beautiful reflection of the years you’ve spent by his side. 

“I do love you, Ushijima. More than anything.” 

“Then why are you doing this?” 

You swallow hard. “Sometimes, that just isn’t enough, Toshi. Relationships require more than love. They require work, and compromise, and some semblance of care and dedication, and you just-- you just don’t have the time for that right now, and I understand that. But I can’t keep doing this to myself. I deserve-” you stop and give yourself a moment to choose your words carefully, lovingly because you’re desperate for him to just understand. “We deserve better, don’t you think?”

He shakes his head, his hair falls in his eyes. You sweep it aside, a force of habit after all these years, something you’ve done a million and one times. Before you can jerk your arm back he grips it in his large hand. His fingers wrap around your wrist, unyielding. 

“I need you,” Toshi says, uncharacteristically desperate. You can feel the heat radiating off his chest. It's a twisted sort of comfort. Knowing this may very well be the last time you’ll be in this position. 

You smile, sweetly and a bit sadly. “No, you don’t, Ushi. You need volleyball. You need the thrill of the game and the taste of victory but you don’t need me. You’ve never needed me. And that’s okay.” You lift your other hand up to brush the stray tear that’s fallen from his eye. He nuzzles into your palm before you can move it, clinging to you like some sort of lifeline. “It’ll be okay, Toshi, we’ve just reached the end of our road. That’s all.”

He raises a shaky hand to trace the dried tracks of tears on your cheek, it’s startling to see him so uncomposed. “Please,” he nearly begs, “don’t do this.”

In your heart, there’s an odd brew of grief and rage and pain and love so mean you know you’ll feel the ache of it for years to come. 

You think of all the shattered promises he’s left at your feet, you think of the gentle way he’s held you through the years, you think of his string of nonchalant rejection, you think of yourself, bright and burning. 

Your mind spins from it and all you can do is rest your head against his chest and close your eyes.

a/n pt 2: there is some untapped potential in the fed up housewife genre and i am determined to unearth it. also i love ushi i promise i think he’d be a great husband under most circumstances

[shokobuns]

“𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭”

in which you slowly give into your desires.

PAIRING: maid!zenin maki x f!housewife!reader

GENRE: smut, some fluff, some angst, slowburn (ish)

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

WARNINGS: nsfw, 16+ smut, slowburn ish?, mentioned misogyny, infidelity, unhappy arranged marriage, angsty marriage, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f receiving), kitchen sex, sex in shared bed, face sitting/riding, 69, exhibitionism, squirting, light degradation, praise, pussy slapping, finger sucking, spit kink, consensual panty stealing, masturbation (f), first time for oral, slight corruption, implied dumbification, dom!maki. slight mommy kink, humiliation (kind of)

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, Honey.”

You peck your husband on the lips goodbye before he’s out the door with a briefcase in hand and his suit as neat as ever. Staring at the leftovers, you sigh before eventually picking up the plates and pilling them in the sink, scrubbing off the sticky mess of maple syrup. Soap suds cover up your gloves as you lather them in bubbly water and plan out the rest of your day. The dishes, the laundry, a few episodes of that one show you barely pay attention to, lunch, more dishes, more laundry, a start on dinner.

You can’t help but wonder — Is this it?

You love your husband, something you remind yourself repeatedly when he’s gobbling down on the rice on his dinner plate and when he’s leaving his dirty clothes all over your bedroom floor. You love him. You want to bear his children, want to raise them, want to do the chores so that he doesn’t. You want to cook, to clean, to do everything for the sake of his pleasure. It’s what your mother insisted, it’s what she did, and it’s what her mother did. You love your husband.

Is this it?

Twenty years old, a husband with a stable living, something that can suffice for the rest of your life. All you need is to do your chores, give him your body, be his prim and proper wife. It sounds fairly easy, another thing that your mother insisted, so what is it?

Why do you crave more? Why do you have to remind yourself that you love him, love this life at all?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on your door. When you open it, you’re met with the sight of a tall girl with glasses. She’s in a black maid dress that stops at her knees, complemented by the white apron that flows along with the part of the skirt, ruffling at the end. She has a bag hanging on her shoulder and her expression shows slight amusement at your surprise. Surely, she’s at the wrong house, right?

“Are you (Y/N)?”

“Y-Yes,” you stutter out, not realizing that you were staring, “Uh, w-who are you?”

“I’m Zenin Maki, but you can call me Maki,” she observes your figure, noticing the sly nervousness radiating off of your expression, “Your husband hired me. Said he wanted someone to help you out.”

“O-Oh.”

“May I come in?”

“Of course.” You move to the side, watching the woman scan your house. It’s slightly messy, a result of your husband not cleaning up after lounging in the living room, and she doesn’t waste time to clean it up, rearranging the decorative pillows and helping you carry the leftover dishes to the sink. Just as you’re about to put on your gloves, her hand comes out to grab your wrist and the other takes it out of your hand. “Don’t. I got this.”

You step back, watching Maki put on the gloves herself, lathering the dishes as you did before. You don’t know what to do, standing there awkwardly as she places them in the dishwasher. It’s a given opportunity to observe how her skirt stops right above her knee, flowing out naturally and modestly accentuating her body. Her headband compliments the look, her hair tied back with bangs covering up her forehead, stopping short of her glasses. Warmth creeps up your neck to your cheeks and you sharply look away, focusing your vision on the bowl of apples on the center of the dining table.

“You can rest, Miss. But I’m going to need help putting away the dishes later. Is that okay?” She asks and you turn around to give her a nod. “Is there anything else you need done?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay, you really don’t need to-”

“I was hired to help you out with chores. Please, do not worry about me.”

You sigh in defeat, looking directly at her face, her pretty face. She had a sharp expression, piercing eyes that can bore into your soul, defined cheekbones. A sensation of uneasiness rested in your lower belly and you realize you’re staring when she waves a hand over your face. “Hello? Miss?”

“S-Sorry! I was just thinking about something!”

“Oh. Well, I was just asking if you can help me put some of the dishes away just for today. I don’t know where everything is and I don’t like disorganization.”

“Of course. Of course.”

“You need anything else?”

“Folding the laundry, for now, I think? The clothes should be dry. Everything is upstairs.”

She follows behind you as you bring her out to the terrace where your laundry hangs on a string. Dresses, button ups, and ties of earth toned colors adorn the area and you touch the fabrics. The sun had definitely done its job. Maki is already setting up the ironing board that was previously laying in the corner of your bedroom and gathering your husband’s work attire together. When she’s done flattening the creases on the pieces of clothing, you take them, hanging and folding. With her help, you were finished in half the time it usually took you.

“Thank you, Maki. Really, I appreciate it.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Miss. Your husband hired me to do my job and I am happy to help.”

As you hang your last dress, you give her a smile.  

—

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your husband’s voice sounds throughout the house as he’s met with the sight of you and Maki laying out plating foods and placing them on the dinner table. He smiles and you walk towards him to greet him with a hug and a kiss. Maki continues with the task, sparing a glance at the both of you. “You didn’t tell me you hired a maid,” you whisper to your husband, “Though, she has been very helpful.”

“I’m glad, Honey.” He replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Kind of curious as to why you hired one in the first place.”

“I’ll tell you later. Let’s have dinner, alright?” He shoots you a grin before looking over to Maki. “Feel free to stay for dinner, Maki!”

“I’m alright. I should get going anyways—”

“Nonsense!” You husband eagerly responds, pulling out an extra chair just for her, “My dear wife here says you’ve been helpful.”

“I have classes.”

“Oh. Well you might as well take some home!” You suggest, walking over to your tupperware cabinet.

Before you go back to your husband, you plate some food for her to take home and make sure she makes it back to her car as she walks out the door. You let out an involuntary sigh, leaning against the doorway and feeling content that you now have an extra hand.

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Why do we need a maid?”

“Simple,” he grabs your hands from across the table, “I think we’re ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready to have kids, silly woman!” His laughter booms throughout the entire room, “I mean you’ll have to get off birth control and everything, but I think it’s time.”

You laugh nervously as he leans in for a kiss. “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know about this.”

“What?” He stands up, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, “Why not?”

“I’m just kind of, uh, scared? I don’t know if I’m ready and we just got married a few months ago, you know?”

“Come on, don’t be scared,” he reassures you, kissing your cheek, “I hired Maki to be our maid to lay the stress off of you. I offered her an in-house job, which she’ll be starting next week, just so that you could rest easy while you’re pregnant.”

“In-house? Is she going to live with us?”

“Of course! She’s a college student, so she doesn’t mind getting paid and living in a house,” he explains before going back to the topic, “So please. I want you to have our baby. We can start tonight.” He suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

“O-Okay.”

—

The next few days, the cycle continues.

Maki comes in the morning, usually just about right before your husband leaves for work, and she helps you throughout the day. Doing dishes, folding clothes, cleaning the bathroom. Most of the time you help her, usually against her will, but it leads to a calm and comforting silence when you work together. She’s moving in soon, two days to be exact, and you think it’s time to get to know a little bit about her.

One problem; She’s reserved, which intimidates you, and you’re too scared to start a conversation.

Eventually, you’re going to have to break the ice. So you do it as she’s ironing the clothes and you’re putting them away. You think up a few basic questions, mulling them over as to not make her uncomfortable because you want to get to know her.

“My husband tells me you’re in university right now. What’s your major?”

“Sports science.” She replies bluntly, continuing her task.

“Oh, cool cool,” you try to figure out a way to continue, but come up blank. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk.

“What do you do when your husband is not around?” She asks curiously, as if she sensed your desire to hold the conversation.

“Chores, usually,” you frown, “Sometimes I watch TV, but I wish I was able to do other stuff. I really like painting, too. But I haven’t done much of that ever since we got married.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to become an artist. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, but my family wanted stability for me so they introduced me to a family friend’s older son,” you smile, memories of your younger self filling up your head before a sense of sadness falls over your expression, “They said this would be good for me. And it is. My husband is a good man, I have a roof over my head and dinner on the table everyday, you know. I’m not complaining,” you pause, reeling out of your own thoughts, “Sorry if I just overshared.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” she reassures you, “Just out of curiosity, how old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“That’s funny, I’m twenty one.”

“You’re closer to my age than my husband,” you laugh, folding another white button up before placing it in a drawer, “We are in very different positions.”

“Yes, we are,” she chuckles, “A struggling college student and a cool housewife.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say cool—”

“Nonsense!” She grumbles, an attempt to mock your husband.

“Nonsense!”

“Nonsense!”

The both of you laugh and you realize how she seems almost angelic. The look in her eyes that was once piercing and intimidating was soft and heavenly. Her cheeks are flushed red and her smile was alluring. Before you even realize it, a feeling of warmth settles in your lower belly and it gets harder and harder to take your eyes off of her. Her chuckle was music to your ears and you’ve internally decided that it was one of your favorite sounds.

—

“Goodnight, Honey.”

He plants a kiss on your sweaty forehead before turning his back towards you, opting to hug a pillow on the side instead. Everything is wet, sticky, and gross, but before you can say anything, your husband is already fast asleep, little snores filling the air of the master bedroom. You lay down for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling in the dark until you gather up the last of your willpower to get up and clean the mess between your legs.

It was an okay night.

Sure, you came, but it was just boring. There was nothing to it, only the huffs and groans and praises from your husband as he lived out his fantasy of finally being able to breed you. You’re happy to provide him, as long as it makes him happy, because he loves you and you love him. Even if you have to clean up the mess yourself, even if you don’t finish, even if that rush of loving emotion that everyone seems to describe never hits you.

You’re happy.

That’s what you tell yourself anyways. Yet, your fingers rub furiously on your clit while the other pumps in and out of your dripping cunt. You’re close and you pretend that it’s her fingers You pretend that it’s her fingers that you’re clenching around, her mouth leaving soft kisses from your neck down to your exposed breasts. You pretend that you’re tugging on dark hair, asking for more, but when you come down from your high, the ringing in your ears stops suddenly and the snores overtake your hearing once again.

Maki.

It’s wrong, disgustingly wrong, but there’s no way to escape her. Not when she’s in your house in the morning, the afternoon, and the evening. She helps with everything, things that you didn’t even consider yourself, talks to you about the things you like. And you know that her favorite color is black, her family would have much rather preferred if she went the same route you did, and she likes junk food a little too much.

You also wonder when you should tell your husband that you definitely have not gone off those pills.

—

“Miss?”

“Yes?” You respond, a grocery bag in your arms filled with different fruits, vegetables, and meat. Although you've made a few additions to your list and you were unsure at first, but as Maki empties it, her eyes light up at the sight of the bright little bag.

“You got chips?”

“Well, yeah. They’re for you. I know you liked them.”

She beams at you and it’s almost blinding. There’s an odd flutter in your stomach and you ignore it, but it only becomes stronger when she rips open the bag and munches on the whole thing in seconds. The small satisfied moan from the first bite has you internally celebrating. She looks at peace. All she’s doing is eating a bag of her favorite chips, yet it fills you with some unexplainable feeling of warmth. You make another mental note to buy even more next time.

—

“What do you think of him?”

“Who?” She asks, sitting up on the couch as she watches you get lost on the canvas in front of you.

“My husband.”

“Oh,” she pauses, her hand coming from under her chin to think, “He’s pretty cool, I guess. He also pays me which is pretty cool, you know.”

“Come on, I won’t tell him,” you insist, coming close, your hands involuntarily brushing over hers. She doesn’t pull them away, letting you rest them, enjoying the extra warmth.

“I mean, he’s a man, alright.”

“What does that even mean?”

“No offense,” she continues, finding the least rudest way to say it, “He’s kind of basic, you know? Which isn’t bad but he yells at the TV when watching football, has you light his cigarettes, and waits for you to serve him food. Just your typical husband things, I guess.”

“Are you saying my husband is boring?” You ask with a stoic face, watching the fear fill her eyes.

“No, no! That’s not what I—”

“Kidding,” you chuckle as she purses her lips before joining along, “I was just curious.”

“Well, why?”

“I don’t know,” you say, sighing as you think of all the times he did anything romantic for you, “He’s a good man, you know that, right?”

“Well, of course.”

“He brings me flowers, gives me goodnight kisses, tells me he loves me, but—” you pause, afraid to finish the thought. Your heart pounds at the mess of ideas on your mind and you’re ashamed, “I don’t know if I feel that love thing those people always talk about.”

“What do you mean?”

She’s intrigued to say the least. You’re fiddling your thumbs with a nervous smile on your face. All the while, the music you put on fades in the background until it’s only the two of you, hearts beating fast, blood rushing to your cheeks. When you finally look her in the eye, she doesn’t miss how glassy they look and that’s when her suspicions are confirmed without a verbal sentence — you’re unsure.

“He- Well, I don’t know. Forget I said anything about it,” you clasp your hands together before getting back to work in the kitchen, “And please, don’t tell him.”

Uncertainty, you’re most definitely full of it, but Maki is almost sure she’s figured it out before you have and she likes to think that she’s gotten to know you. She’s picked up how you play with your fingers when you’re unsure, how you smooth down your dress when you try to keep your composure, how that your smile loses genuinity while you’re at the dinner table. She decides it’s not her business, she’s only the housemaid and you’re just the housewife she works under.

But she’ll always be there for you with open arms if you need it.

—

“We gotta make breakfast, Maki.” You poke her side, waking her up from a deep sleep.

You’re already ready for the day, the top half of your hair already tied in a bun and a lilac colored dress adorning your figure. She’s caught off guard when she opens her eyes and you’re sitting up on the side of the bed poking at her hip. Her vision is blurry without her glasses, but she can clearly smell the sweet scent of vanilla perfume. Taking in a deep breath, she sits up, too, reaching for her glasses on the bedside table.

And her sleek, black hair cascades down her shoulders, though it’s slightly messy, you’re tempted to run your fingers through the soft looking strands. You’ve seen Maki in her maid uniform at home, jeans when she goes out to shop, but the sight of her in a satin night dress was different and your breath hitches when the blanket falls off the upper half of her body. It’s a loose fit and she looks absolutely ethereal, almost like an angel.

She turns her head to the side and you fake cough, trying to make up for staring a little too long. “I know your day doesn’t start yet, but I was hoping to get some help on breakfast today. Is that alright with you?”

“Of course, Miss. I’ll go get ready right now.

“Cool.”

You walk down to the kitchen, preparing a pie crust for your quiche and reading through the recipe you were given by a friend. By the time you blind bake the crust, Maki joins you in her usual attire. “Need anything, Miss?”

“While the quiche is baking, I just need you to make some cookie dough. Just the usual, my family is coming over later.”

“Of course.”

She gets to work right away, finding the ingredients immediately as you fill up your empty pie crust and dance around the kitchen. Right after the quiche is placed in the oven, your hips sway along with the music that plays in the radio. It’s all soft and slow, Maki smiling at your antics while you jokingly attempt to serenade her. She’s mixing in the chocolate chips into the dough and you walk forward, energetic and lost in the song.

You don’t think much of it when you grab her hip and your faces come closer together. One second, you were playfully dancing around your kitchen and the next, your breaths mingle, the gap between the two of you closing. It’s her who decides to lean forward, soft lips meeting together, your back suddenly meeting the edge of the counter. Her hands rest on the surface, each on either side of you, and her lips taste like cherries. Your hands come up to her cheeks as your mouths meld together until it’s hard to breathe.

You pull away first, remembering that your husband is still sleeping upstairs. “What are we doing?”

“Don’t know,” she replies, her hand starting to trail under the skirt of your dress, “It feels right, though.”

“Should we stop?” You mutter, just barely enough for her to hear.

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

It gives her the extra rush of courage to get under your dress and push your body until your back is flat on the counter. Luckily, there was nothing underneath except for a pair of plain black panties, a damp spot right in the middle. Her thumb presses on your clothed clit and by the way your body squirms she knows you’re sensitive which only adds to the sadistic fun of pulling down your underwear at an agonizingly slow pace. “Need you,” you breathe out, your legs being positioned on her shoulders, “I need you, please.”

“I got you, Baby. Don’t worry.” She replies with a smile, her breath hitting your wet cunt.

Your breath hitches as her tongue trails up from your hole up to your sensitive pearl and she moans at the sweet taste of your arousal. Her hands keep a firm grip on your thighs, holding them open as you bite your lip to contain your moans. He’s right upstairs, you think, but any thought of caution starts to leave you once her soft lips wrap around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves causing your knuckles to turn white as they grab onto the edge of the counter.

Your husband has never touched you like this. Ever.

The feeling of her mouth is foreign, but welcome. Before you know it, the grip on one of your thighs loosen and two fingers slip into your soaked cunt. She’s gentle at first, the pumps of her digits ever so delicately pressing against your g spot, but once you hike up the skirt of your dress and thread your fingers through her hair, she speeds up, hitting hard and fast. “M-Maki— Shit!”

You squeal when her tongue starts massaging your clit and your walls clench despite being empty, “Such a pretty girl,” she coos, watching in awe at how your slick coats her fingers, “Such a pretty pussy.”

Lewd praises and squelches fill the kitchen air as the coil in your stomach builds and snaps until your cunt is gushing all over her. Your back arches as you reach your high and she leaves a trail of kisses from your thigh to your sopping pussy. Bringing her fingers to your mouth, she gives you one command.

“Suck.”

You obey, wrapping your soft lips around her digits, swirling your tongue and she gives a graceful smile, brushing a thumb over your flushed cheeks. A sheen of sweat covers your forehead, but the sound of footsteps brings you out of your thoughts. Maki pockets your underwear, giving you a wink, before washing her hands and taking the nearly forgotten quiche out of the oven.

By the time you hear the footsteps of your husband, you’re decent, minimal signs of physical exertion just barely noticeable. She’s going through her usual routine of plating your food in front of the two of you, doing the dishes, laundry, everything. You want to say something, you really do, and you’re left with your own questions.

At night, you’re left pondering the strong women with silky black hair whilst in the arms of your husband.

—

Two days.

That’s how long it’s been since you’ve gotten the most mind blowing orgasm of your life. Your panties are still missing, though you don’t mind knowing who has them. And when you think about the things your mother has told you repeatedly about your perfectly structured life, it crumbles with each second. When you look at the face next to you, the indifference in your heart starts to become more and more prominent.

And even though you should feel guilty — well, you do — you also don’t regret it at all.

You still do your chores as expected, make the bed, cook dinner. You still organize the laundry, do the dishes, and tend to your rose garden. You still disinfect, fold, and have sex with your husband who’s indifferent to your pleasure every night. Almost every domestic activity was accompanied by Maki, who often sought to take over or help.

Yet, she wouldn’t even look at you.

She wouldn’t say anything that didn’t pertain to a grocery list or a command and it was infuriating. Still, you were determined to bring it up — how could you not? As you fold blankets on the couch and think, you call out her name. “Maki?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Are we going to talk about what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

Your heart drops a tiny bit, it was an expected response based on the fact it felt like she was avoiding you, but you still had to swallow the lump in your throat. “Nevermind. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” She asks as you’re looking down on the rug, trying to focus on the pattern instead of the woman in front of you.

“I’m just sorry I brought it up. I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry that we did whatever that was,” you take a deep breath as forming tears blurred your vision, “I’m sorry that I can’t fucking do this, Maki. I don’t love him. I can’t love him.”

She sighs, scooching forward and closer to you then pulling the half folded blanket from your hands. “You shouldn’t be sorry. This was my fault.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“You’re just, I’m just—” you inhale again, trying to find the right words to say, “You’re different. You’re different from him in all the best ways. You listen to what I have to say, you care about how I feel.”

“That’s something that any good friend would do—”

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Oh.”

She brings her fingers to your chin, nudging your head up until you’re looking her in the eyes for the first time in days. She gazes at you, appreciating every curve and every mark on your skin. You take this as an opportunity to lean in, planting a soft kiss on her lips. She doesn’t stop it, instead indulging in the act, cupping your cheeks.

It soon becomes hungry, her tongue slipping past your lips, you being rolled over onto your back as she slips her hand under your floral dress. She presses a finger against your clothed cunt, causing you to gasp and throw your head back. At the same time she leaves sloppy kisses on the exposed skin of your neck and you struggle to form a coherent sentence.

“M-Maki, stop,” you whimper and she pauses, “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Oh?” She smirks, giving you another breathless kiss, “Wanna put that mouth to use, Baby?”

“Yeah,” you breath out, “Wanna make you feel good, Mommy.”

Her expression is filled with pride as she drags her fingers across your face and into your mouth. You comply with the silent command, wrapping your lips around the digits and sucking softly, swirling your tongue around them. “Good girl.”

You let out a hum while she discards her panties somewhere on the ground and her bare cunt hovers over your face. It’s intimidating, yet the sight of her glistening folds makes you wet. All you wanted to do was taste her, drink up all of her juices, and when you finally do you can’t get enough. Despite the lack of experience, you do what you think would feel good, giving experimental licks, noting when her body twitched and when she would let out a saccharine moan.

“Fuck — you’re doing so well,” she coos, carding her fingers through your hair, admiring the sight of your half lidded eyes and the feel of your tongue, “You sure this is your first time eating pussy?”

You hum in response which sends vibrations throughout her body, causing her to throw her head back. You grip onto her lower back, desperately bringing her wet cunny closer to yourself and she rolls her hips, grinding herself on your mouth. You’re already addicted, lapping at all of the cum she has to offer, watching intently as her mouth forms an o shape and she soaks the lower half of your face.

“Such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

She gets off your face and you smile with pride, tugging off the rest of her maid uniform until she’s completely bare in your living room. Every curve of her body fills you with even more lust and you’re sure your panties are soaked just from the sight. Her thighs are defined, muscular even, and you kiss them before going back to her ruined pussy, lapping at all the slick.

“You’re so pretty, Maki,” you utter, your breath hitting her neck as you come back up to her face.

She pushes you backward until you’re flat on your back, pinning your wrists together before ripping off your panties. Maki wastes no time, two fingers entering your hole and curling with every thrust. “You got this wet from eating me out?” She questions cockily, leaving an open mouthed kiss on the shell of your ear along with a nibble, “You’re a cute little thing, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you whimper in between breaths, “Feels s’good.”

“Yeah?” She responds, watching you come undone underneath her.

Your orgasm builds up with every pump, the coil in your stomach tightening. She fastens the pace, every movement being calculated, her fingers knuckles deep in your cunt. Her fingertips manage to brutally hit the spongy spot inside of you, causing your legs to shake. Your back arches when her lips wrap around your clit, the simultaneous stimulation making your body tremble in delight. You’re gushing all over her fingers and she stares in awe as your slick drips down your thighs.

“Can we go to the bedroom?” You request meekly, barely recovering from your last orgasm.

“Of course, Baby,” she beams at you, body gleaming with a sheen of sweat, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Maki picks you up bridal style with almost no effort, pressing kisses all over your face on the way upstairs. When you finally get to the bedroom, she lays you down gently, almost as if you were a delicate piece of glass. But the moment of soft intimacy doesn’t last.

It doesn’t last when her pussy hovers over your face with her head buried in between your legs, licking hot stripes on your folds, sucking on your pearl while her fingers brush on your legs before finding their way back to your ruined cunt. Your tongue presses on her slit and her hips lower until your mouth is full of pussy. Her sweet taste is addicting and concurrent moans only heighten the pleasure, vibrations shooting through both of your bodies. Her thumb circles your clit furiously as she pulls away from your cunt to speak.

“You like this, don’t you? Ain’t this the same bed where you get fucked by your husband?” She questions demandingly, slapping your cunny.

You whine into her cunt, the sudden pain causing your walls to clamp around nothing. She laughs sadistically, pinching your clit, biting at your inner thighs.

“S’good, such a good little slut,” she coos, her nose tickling your clit as her face inches closer, “Bet you like getting fucked by your maid, don’t you?”

You can only respond with a squeal, her hand laying another blow to your aching pussy. “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I got you.” She reassures you, mouth ravaging your cunt, slurping every drop of cum you had to offer. She’s close to her own orgasm, you can tell by the way she rides your face, soaking the lower half until the sweet droplets slide down your neck. You massage her clit with your tongue as she comes down from her high, but after yours, she doesn’t stop.

Instead, she continues to feast on your cunt like a starved woman, the pressure in your stomach building for the nth time that day. Coming again almost hurts, but she ignores the high pitched wails spilling from your lips, the sounds only encouraging her to keep sucking until your body trembles. At this point, you’re light headed, vision gradually becoming blurry. Your walls are pulsating, your mind is unable to process everything at once.

Especially the shocked man who stands in the doorway of your bedroom.

And at that exact moment, you let out a sob as Maki sadistically looks your husband right in the eye, her mouth still devouring your overstimulated cunny with fervor. Your hole leaks milky white, staining your shared sheets and you cry out her name, hopelessly gripping onto the plush of her ass for stability, digging your nails into the flesh. When she pulls away, a string of spit connects from her mouth to your pearl and her pupils are blown, cheeks covered with your arousal, all the while maintaining eye contact with him.

As if there was no one in the room, she readjusts her until her face hovers over yours, her swollen pussy present on your thigh.

“Open.”

You comply readily and she grabs your face with one hand, squishing your wet cheeks so hard that they start to ache.

“Good girl.”

She spews into your mouth, watching the blob as it glides down your tongue and you swallow obediently before she comes down for a sweet kiss. The taste of yourself makes your head dizzy with lust. Let it be known that the horrified figure standing in the doorway could never make you feel as good as the maid.  

Oops.

© this is a work of @crybabygumi, all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my work on other platforms.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

weird, m | ksj

pairing(s): seokjin x reader

summary: Your roommate and best friend, Kim Seokjin, forgot to double-check the autofill information and shipped his package from the online sex shop with your name on it. Naturally, this ends with you tying him up and sucking his dick, and him tying you up with you riding him like a wild animal. Wait, what?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends with benefits; crack (sorry, I can't be serious for more than two seconds when writing Seokjin); yes, reader usually fucks younger dudes XD; smut (fem reader, D/s dynamics (both switches), bondage, m-receiving oral, thigh riding, cowgirl, spanking); non-idol!BTS - just two best friends fucking for sexual exploration, don't mind them

technically a prequel to love roulette, m | myg yes, this is the explanation to that mysterious package, but is it really an explanation or rather an excuse to fuck WWH, you decide

--

“Seokjin, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

When Kim Seokjin looked at you, it was a bit like looking into the eyes someone much younger than you even though he wasn’t. He had that youth about him, the ‘here’s-to-never-growing-up’ sparkle in his large brown eyes, complete with parted lips in a small ‘o’ and, alright, yes, his Nintendo Switch in his hands.

“A long time ago, I asked you which way you think you lean, more dominant or more submissive, no?”

His handsome face flushed pink, slowly scooting away from you.

“Er… yeah, I remember…”

“What?”

“Huh?”

You poked him and he squeaked, slapping a hand over his side even though he was wearing a brown sweatshirt. Seokjin was always cold, even during the summer.

Your best friend was an odd character.

You chuckled. “Why are you being so awkward? I thought we were over this phase.”

Well, he should be. You had known Seokjin since elementary school and seen him, er, date was a strong word for what you both were doing in middle and high school, more like being bumbling messes and walking in on each other bonking classmates, but, hey, what mattered is that you both got better at it over the years.

It being sex.

Not romance.

You both still had only sketchy ideas about what romance was supposed to be.

“We are,” your best friend coughed, clearing his throat for absolutely no reason. “We are, I just…”

“Used my name for purchasing goods from an online sex shop?”

He choked and nearly flung his Switch. You caught it, swiftly placing it on the coffee table as you procured the cardboard box from behind your back, already open, address and name circled in thick black permanent marker on the rather inconspicuous package.

“W-What, that’s absurd, why would I ever–?”

You hummed pleasantly, sweeping the box away from his lanky limbs and his flailing hands. For someone who didn’t purchase goods from an online sex shop, he sure was interested in getting the box. He tumbled into your lap, and quickly scrambled back, black hair suddenly fluffed and wild from the movement.

“Something tells me you didn’t check the autocomplete form before clicking submit.”

You saw Seokjin choke on air.

He jerked away from you and fumbled with his phone beside him. You peeked over his broad shoulder and saw that he was scrolling through his emails like a madman, except Seokjin had a bad habit of never deleting any. He had maybe fifteen thousand unread emails to sort though.

“You don’t have to check. I am sure I didn’t order red cotton bondage rope and a leather flogger.”

Seokjin whipped his head around, face redder than a tomato, looking halfway between fainting and screaming.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is it for you or a mysterious imaginary girl that you’re dating?”

Now your best friend seemed to be contemplating holding his own breath until he passed out to avoid your questioning.

“I-It’s not for me!”

“Oooh, then who? You’re not an internet hookup kind of guy though… unless she was dumb enough to put her full name as her username, then she’s too airheaded to be a catfish–”

Seokjin flapped his hands, smacking you in your pajama-covered chest, sputtering. “No one! There’s no one! I just…!”

You caught one of his wrists, raising an eyebrow.

“Just?”

He froze.

Silence.

“… Seokjin?”

You left go of his hand. It stayed there, frozen in the air.

Ah, it seemed as if his soul left his body.

Rest in peace Kim Seokjin. You were the handsomest best friend one could ask for.

You prodded him in the side again and Seokjin doubled over, trying to cover his face with the large sleeves of his sweatshirt, long legs in black sweatpants curling up as if he could cocoon himself away from the conversation.

“Seokjin, you can be interested in whatever you want,” you snickered, placing the package next to his fetal positioned body. “I simply thought it was funny that you accidentally used my name. Although I wouldn’t use that flogger on a real person, only for posing in pictures. In any case, have fun being freaky by yourself and not for some mysterious woman you refuse to tell me about.”

You stood up, about to leave and give your best friend some space. You shouldn’t go too far teasing him after all.

“What do you mean?”

You stopped, looking back. Seokjin’s large brown eyes were peeking out of his splayed fingers, shifting awkwardly when you made eye contact. He cleared his throat. He was doing that a lot for someone who seemed perfectly healthy ten minutes ago, shrieking at himself for missing the ledge in his game and dying.

It had seemed like a good time to interrupt and embarrass him so you could save your eardrums.

He coughed and pointed to the box. “About the… um… whip… thingmabob…”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

You marched over and opened the box, making Seokjin jolt and cover his red ears instinctively, but you ignored him, pulling out the black pleather flogger you had already unwrapped from the plastic – purely from thinking it was your own package, by the way, no other reason, surely not because you were mildly curious about what your best friend was into, nope – and you slapped the short three tails into your hand, wincing.

“This kind of cheap material is too plastic-like. If you use this on bare skin and hit too hard, you’re going to cut someone and I know you’re squeamish around blood, unless you secretly have a blood fetish too and have been a really good actor all this time–”

“How do you know that?”

You blinked at his question.

“What?”

Seokjin sat up, giving you a confused pout. “Why do you know something like that?”

Now it was your turn to shift your eyes around.

“Uh…”

Er… how to tell your best friend that the younger guy you were casually fucking for the past couple of weeks was, ah, rather knowledgeable about certain things, was, um, interested in teaching, uh, yeah, teaching…

Seokjin squinted at you suspiciously. “Is it that idol trainee that was here two nights ago when I was out drinking with Hose–”

You waved your hands very quickly, tossing the flog aside carelessly and slapping your thigh to silence Seokjin and his far too invasive questions. “Look. I just don’t want you to hurt anybody on accident, okay? Your rope choice was good though. You should always use an organic material for shibari, cotton, hemp, linen if you’re rich, but you’re a cheapskate, so–”

Your best friend narrowed his eyes into slits. “How much younger is that guy compared to you again? Hm? And what was his name? Ye–”

You slapped a hand over Seokjin’s mouth, smiling sweetly and dangerously, reaching into the box and pulling out the red cotton rope.

“I know a lot of knots now and I can tie a noose just for you, Seokjinnie.”

Your best friend, rightfully so, looked terrified.

“Now. Let’s talk about you, okay? Okay.”

You removed your hand and held onto the rope.

Seokjin gulped, but then shook his head vigorously, frowning. “What did you call it?” He was already moving past your death threat. Smart man.

“Call what?”

“Shi-something?”

“Shibari? Japanese rope tying?” You lifted the cotton cord in your hand. “Is that not what this is for?”

Seokjin blinked very rapidly.

You blinked back at him. Then it dawned onto you. “The diamond-y rope patterns where they’re all tied up and stuff.”

“Ah! Yeah! That!”

“You want that done to you?”

Seokjin jerked to one side. “What? No! To someone else. Maybe. No. What?”

You slowly placed the rope on his lap and scooted away.

“Uh… huh. Okay. Enjoy.”

“Wait,” he blurted.

“What?”

“CanIpracticeonyou?”

“Can you WHAT?” you echoed shrilly.

“Right, yeah, okay, never mind–”

-

“Seokjin.”

Your best friend choked on his own toothbrush and threw himself into the bathroom wall, colliding into the towel bar and howling in pain while simultaneously hacking up a lung.

“I’ve decided I am going to teach you some simple knots to prevent me from having to pick your naked ass up from the police station or hospital,” you said calmly as Seokjin half-died on the floor tangled in your mint green and his navy-blue bath towels. “And because I don’t want to have to cut some poor girl off your bedframe because you’ve blacked out running onto your door trying to find me.”

“I’ve never–” he wheezed.

“But you will if I don’t take precautions,” you cut in, grabbing your purple toothbrush and putting toothpaste on it as Seokjin attempted to collect himself off the ground. “Like that one time you ran into the window when that wasp was in the apartment.”

“That was a fucking wasp, you freaked out too!”

You started brushing your teeth. “Yeah, but I didn’t knock myself out and wake up with a fat bump on my forehead. That was you,” you gargled.

“Ack…”

“Anyway, I know a few things and I figured I would do a good deed and enlighten you.”

“Who taught you? Was it Ye–”

You jabbed Seokjin forcefully in the ribs and he immediately shut up because he choked on his toothbrush again.

-

“Why do you have scissors?”

“For cutting the rope.”

“Yeah, but why are they so big?”

“That’s what she said.”

Seokjin narrowed his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Cool, now I’m gonna tie you up. Give me your hands.”

You unwound the end from the bolt and frowned, nudging his knee with yours. You were both sitting on his bed, him cross legged and you on your knees because he was wearing black sweatpants and you were wearing no pants, just your usual large lavender pajama shirt with a pattern of yellow stars.

“Take off your sweatshirt. It’ll get in the way.”

“But I’m cold.”

“You won’t be because apparently this shit turns you on,” you snickered.

“Shut up, it does not. It’s the other way around,” Seokjin grumbled, yanking his chocolate brown sweatshirt over his head.

You paused.

“I thought you were more sub.”

Seokjin froze, head half-out of his sweatshirt. You waited. He didn’t move. You waited some more. He coughed and chucked the article of clothing aside, yanking his white t-shirt down and smoothing his hair, not looking at you.

You waited.

He smoothed his hair for a full two minutes.

“Um, anyway–”

You planted a hand on his knee and Seokjin tried to chop your hand away, only for you to snatch his wrist, so his other hand came up to stop you, but you wound the end of the rope around his wrist and bounced off his mattress, pinning your knees on top of his knees and making him squeak as he tumbled back into his pillows, bringing you with him. You had to jerk your head out of the way to avoid collision.

“My nuts!”

“I didn’t hit your precious nuts, you numbsku–”

Hang on.

You locked eyes with Seokjin under you, who gawked back at you, absolutely terrified.

“… You are still a sub.”

Seokjin winced. “Ugh, it’s just… I’m getting older, alright? I can change my mind…”

You could get off him. You could let it be. You totally could.

But were you going to?

No.

You straddled his abdomen and brought his hands to his chest with a big grin. Seokjin’s eyes turned into giant brown saucers. He looked ready to pass out and not from your weight because you weren’t putting much weight on him.

“W-W-What are y-you d-doing?!” he shrieked.

You rapped him in the forehead. “Teaching. Pay attention. Hands up.”

“You aren’t taking your rings off?”

He was referring to the three silver rings you wore on a daily basis – an onyx stone on your left middle finger, a goat-head shaped ring on your right thumb, and a skull with a jester hat on your right ring finger.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why do I need to take them off?”

He lifted his hands and gave you an exaggerated shrug in between your thighs. Come to think of it, Seokjin had a rather broad chest so you had to spread your legs pretty wide to accommodate and hover over him.

Precarious.

“Ah, perfect.”

Your best friend yelped as you wrapped the rope around his wrists, leaving the end sticking out between them, first focusing on loosely binding. He tried to break away, but you harshly squeezed his sides with your thighs, narrowing your eyes.

“Stop squirming.”

He froze at your cold tone, shifting his eyes awkwardly.

“Watch. Now.”

His eyes immediately snapped to your hands.

“Wrists together.” You nudged them so the inner parts of the wrists were touching. “A little space in the center,” you added, looping out the end of the rope. “I’m just teaching you how I learned it, there are a few ways, but the details are important so you don’t prevent loss of circulation,” you added seriously, waiting for him to nod before continuing. “So, wind it around a couple times, but don’t overlap. Four or five?”

“But I can still get out.”

You glared at him. Seokjin shut up and jammed his plush pink lips together, shaking his head rapidly as if to say, who me? I wasn’t talking!

“Turn it ninety degrees like this,” you demonstrated. “And start going perpendicular to and in between the wrists to create the binding. Line up each coil side by side. Mind the starting end here. Then…” You reached for the scissors and snipped the excess away, dropping the rope and scissors beside you on the bed. “You tie it off on the outside. I use a square knot, so this end over this end, and then retie it the opposite way. Try to break free.”

Seokjin frowned at the red rope around his wrists, twisting it this way and that, squirming underneath your legs. You put your hands on your waist triumphantly, nodding to yourself in pride. You did a good job! It looked neat and it was inescapable without tightening on any blood vessels to cause any dangerous loss of circulation.

Hang on.

Seokjin froze.

You froze.

You both looked down.

You smacked him in the cheek.

“Ow!”

“What are you looking there for?!”

“Why did you hit me? Why do you always resort to violence?!” Seokjin accused, jabbing you underneath your breasts with his bound hands. “What is going on down there?”

“Nothing! Stop moving!”

“No!”

“You–”

You closed your thighs around Seokjin’s waist and sat down on him, causing him to gasp, wind knocked out of him as his diaphragm was pushed up into his lungs, struggling with the rope between his wrists and resorting to slamming them down on the bed above his head. You growled as you towered over him. He started yelling, as he always did.

“Yah!”

You slapped your free hand over his mouth.

“Silence.”

He glared at you behind your palm, breathing hard. You sat on top of him, breathing just as hard. He was bigger, strong, yes, but not in the position of power and – being honest, after all – your best friend was never really out to fight you and win. He was more of a ‘I’m-going-to-be-stupidly-annoying-until-you-do-what-I-want’ type, which made him rather childish in some ways. You were more of the ‘I’m-gonna-beat-your-ass’ type.

In conclusion, it was a healthy friendship.

Seokjin started licking your palm and making crazy eyes at you.

Your eye twitched.

“Stop it.”

Unsurprisingly, he did not, in fact, stop it.

“I said, stop it.”

And you slid down, past the wet spot now on his t-shirt, planting your soaked panties on top of his crotch, grinding down, and, yup, Seokjin bucked and yelped, immediately stopping and seizing up as if he could hide the massive erection that you had been willing to ignore but he was being a little – nah, actually, an extra-large, supersized – shit and it was getting on your last nerve, so what better way to resolve a wordless argument (on his part, heh) then humping his hard-on?

You removed your hand and Seokjin had a brief moment to gasp your name before you slid the pads of your fingers onto his tongue, rubbing it roughly and making his eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

“I told you to stop, but you aren’t listening,” you snarled.

Seokjin whimpered, brown orbs glassy, pupils blown out.

You stilled.

Hold on a second.

You had a brief epiphany where you realized you were grinding on your best friend’s dick with him tied up and you were wetter than the Yellow Sea. This wasn’t some guy you picked up at the night market that won you that sleeping Pikachu at the claw machines, only to chat him up and end up with bed with a guy who was – ack, never mind his age – anyway, this was your best friend.

Kim Seokjin.

Oh shit, I’ve gone too far.

You let go, backing up. “S… Sorry, I–”

But then Seokjin’s plush lips closed around your fingers, sucking hard and you choked slightly, feeling his hips roll and the tip of his clothed erection hit your covered clit. He was glaring at you. You gasped as his teeth gently but firmly caught your two fingers. It did hurt, but only a little. Mostly it sent a rush of rather uncomfortable and mind-boggling arousal racing from your knuckles to your core, drenching your panties further.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbled around your fingers.

Don’t stop?

DON’T STOP?

His teeth let go, panting, staring into your eyes.

“Don’t make this weird,” Seokjin muttered, shifting his gaze. “Don’t make this weird, okay?”

His brown eyes flickered back to you. His bound hands were still over his head, black hair flaring out of his pillows, white t-shirt messed up, still trapped between your thighs. You paused, fingers slipping out of his lips, the pads trailing on his lower lip, turning it glossy with his saliva.

Your heart was racing fast.

He furrowed his dark brows and, for the first time, his serious expression made you think that perhaps, maybe, there was a side of him down there, the other side to the coin.

“I just…” Seokjin exhaled slowly, not looking away from you. “I trust you to do this. You’re capable and knowledgeable. I know you are. Word gets around with your, er, habits with younger guys…”

You felt your cheeks heat and you scratched your head awkwardly.

“Anyway, it’s fine if you wanna… er… get off. With me. Because I’m so handsome and all.”

You were thiiiiiiis close to leaving out of sheer embarrassment that instantly dissipated at Seokjin’s sudden unexpected self-compliment. Instead, your eye twitched and you squinted in annoyance.

Seokjin coughed, ears singeing bright red. “Unless you can’t, of course. Because it’s easy to fall in love with me, and that would be very bad considering I don’t want to marry you–”

“I don’t want to marry you either,” you snapped. “You’re ugly.”

Seokjin gasped dramatically, highly offended. “How dare you–!”

He abruptly sat up and you twisted back, only for his arms to swing over your head and sandwich you between his tied wrists and his chest, ramming you back onto his lap and his hard dick. You hissed and bit down your moan, not willing to admit it was mildly turning you on, because of course neither you or Seokjin hated each other – only in that classic way best friends hate and love each other at the same time – and, yeah, sure, you could admit Seokjin was handsome and cute and fun to be around, but he wasn’t the one, not that you knew what the one was supposed to feel like or knew if you would ever feel such an intense, romantic love, but you had this strange idea that the one for you would be someone who could understand you on a different level, and you didn’t have that with Seokjin even if you did talk all the time. You were quite sure the feeling was mutual and now, looking into his brown eyes with a scowl, you saw that the feeling was indeed mutual.

Also, Seokjin was an immature shithead.

A loveable, worldwide handsome, immature shithead. Redeemable.

Still.

You were horny.

And Seokjin was horny.

You weren’t going to date Seokjin ever, but your best friend was hot as hell and you could definitely bang him without any regrets.

“Let’s fuck,” he breathed into your face.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t make it weird.”

Don’t make it weird, yeah, okaaay dude–

Your thoughts were suddenly cut off when Seokjin kissed you.

His forearms closed in behind your back and he pressed his bound wrists into your shoulder blades, pushing you into his solid chest and his embrace, taking your breath away. He always had good hugs, even if they were just to comfort you when your favorite flavor of ice lollys stopped being stocked at your local grocery store – still tragic to this day – and even when he was clinging onto you like a howling monkey because a cockroach was in the bathroom and he was screaming at you to kill it and nearly blowing out your eardrums, even then…

Now.

You closed your legs in around his hips and rolled your crotch into him, suddenly kissing him back.

He gasped into your mouth, your eyes half-opening, him gazing back at you, long lashes and dark eyebrows and glowing tan skin, holy shit, your best friend was handsome as fuck, why did other men even try when Kim Seokjin existed?

“Are you falling in love with me because I’m so handsome?” Seokjin teased, nipping at your lower lip.

Your eye twitched. Oh, yes, that’s right, because you’re annoying.

You shoved him and he yelped, clutching your back as you both fell onto the bed with a flump! You slid out from under his arms, skin prickling at Seokjin’s involuntary whine at your departure. Don’t make this weird, yeah, okay, don’t turn me on this much, dumbass, you are reminding me of… You pushed the thought away.

You didn’t want to think about other people when the person you were touching was right in front of you.

“What are you – yah!”

You gripped the waistband of his sweatpants and yanked down, exposing his underwear – bright blue, nice, nice – and his clothed erection, leaning in, hot breath ghosting over it, Seokjin jerking his arms about because he seemed undecided on either if he wanted to see or not see, but you let him deal with that in his own time, lowering your mouth, tongue extended, fingers splayed over his hips, silver rings glinting in his bedroom lights.

“You look like a demon,” you heard from above you.

You planted your tongue on the spot where the head of his cock would be and soaked it with saliva.

“F-Fuck!”

That shut him up real quick.

Your eyes drifted up, lapping slowly, barely stimulating the sensitive head through his underwear, closing your lips around it so the fabric clung wetly to the taut skin underneath. His cock swelled and twitched under your mouth; the action was mirrored by Seokjin’s jaw. He was clenching it along with his hands balled into fists, gasping for breath.

“O-Oh, f-fuck…!”

You were beginning to get the hint with each passing second of working your tongue around his rapidly hardening cock. Seokjin had put himself in the sub category when you asked back then because he liked to things being done for him. It was less about the mental aspect and more of the physical acts of service in his case. However, he wasn’t very good at articulating what he wanted and thus the natural pattern of someone just doing it led to, ah, exhibit A.

You currently parting your lips and letting your tongue snake out, coating the length with saliva.

But.

You could see it in his eyes, that burning intensity.

Maybe part of it was because it was you. He probably didn’t have those butterfly jitters of trying to woo a stranger or the nervousness of looking bad in the honeymoon phase of a relationship. There was already a level of comfort – and the ability to readily shit-talk each other at any moment – and so Seokjin was free to relax, even if it was a bizarre situation of sexual discovery.

“Take it off,” he growled.

Your fingers creeped up his sides, hooking over his boxer briefs. Slow, deliberate, kissing up his length, on the tightrope, dominant in your control, submissive in the action, raising your head so Seokjin could lift his hips, feathering kisses on the exposed skin and making him hiss and shudder, eyelids fluttering, slipping into subservience a little.

At the end of the day, who killed the unwanted bugs in your shared apartment?

Yeah, you.

“Oh, f… fucking shit…”

You tilted your head and ran your tongue up and down the length, licking up the sides and circling around the thick head, bordering on frustratingly soft, switching to wet, sloppy kisses when his hands raised, making him pause, gazing down at you curiously and attentively, entranced by the action. You ducked down, tongue slurping around his balls, lifting his cock, kissing, sucking, eyes closing, tip of your wet muscle drawing zig-zag patterns that soft skin.

Seokjin moaned your name.

A shiver of electricity went up your spine.

Alright, fine, you were getting turned on.

You wrapped your lips around his balls and enveloped them both with your mouth.

“Whoa!”

You opened your eyes to see Seokjin staring wide-eyed at you, hands straight up to stare at you between his upper arms. You almost laughed at the hilarious triangular-looking pose, but your mouth was currently full, so you restrained yourself.

“That’s possible?! You can put both nuts in your mouth at the same time?!”

Uh.

Where you supposed to respond with your cheeks stuffed with his nutties?

You hummed casually in response.

“A-Ah…!”

Seokjin gasped at the vibrations and the movement of your tongue slapping all over them, short, rapid licks all over his skin, watching him with a cocked eyebrow, but he didn’t even notice, hands dropping and moaning to the ceiling, his eyes closing and savoring the hot wet warmth and the power of your mouth, shivering as your hand slowly stroked his length in time with your tongue.

You let him bask in it before detaching and swallowing his cock.

“Gah!”

Seokjiinie, you thought wryly, we gotta work on your repertoire of sex sounds.

You spied him looking down at you, so you paused around the swollen head and slid your tongue out, circling and wrapping around his length while sucking on the tip and rubbing the back of your tongue along the underside.

Seokjin made a bunch of weird croaking noises that were, strangely, rather attractive. Okay, you could admit it. You were kind of a sucker for your best friend in the most platonic way possible… while in the middle of sucking his dick.

What?

He was handsome!

You began to bob your head up and down, tongue and lips descending, taking him deep so you kissed the base of his cock, head buried in your throat, waiting for him to glance down at you, hazy brown orbs under lush lashes, and you would peek your tongue out and lap at his balls, interrupting the tightness, causing him to swear and jerk his hips up, urging you to keep consistent speed and pace, all the while watching every single movement of your tongue. You kept this irregular pace, slow, then fast, then slow again when he looked at you, then fast when the ecstasy was too much and he closed his eyes, over and over. You could see that a battle was being waged Seokjin’s pretty head, between wanting to observe the lewdness of you licking his balls with his hard cock buried in your throat while also desperately needing to get to the fuck off.

“You… bitch… suck me off properly, fuck…”

You raised all the way so only the head was in your mouth and sucked, rubbing up and around it, swirling all over, teasing the slit and soaking the sensitive skin, rutting it against the roof of your mouth and Seokjin groaned, pressing his head back into the pillows, black hair covering his eyes, fists pressed to his chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, let me cum!”

His hips rammed up and you dug your nails into them, wincing as the head hit the top of your throat and slid down, cutting off your air, and then he began to thrust erratically, the position, inability to use his hands as leverage, and your resistance not letting him set up a good rhythm. You had to force him back down, popping your mouth off, snarling.

“I’m gonna gag if you do that! You want me to vomit on your dick or what?”

But all of a sudden Seokjin sat up again, grabbing your pajama shirt and yanking you to him, saliva dripping down your chin and then it was on his chin, a messy, savage kiss, ravenous need in his actions, pulling you to him, close, closer, you twisting and then gasping as he pushed one of your thighs down, planting your soaked panties on the exposed part of his thigh.

“Ah, Seok–”

He attacked your lips again with a light growl, sparks shooting across your skin, his thigh rising and bouncing you both on the bed, his legs still tangled in his pants and underwear but the effect was undeniable.

Seokjin was making you ride his thigh.

Whoa.

He bit your lower lip and sucked hard, your eyes fluttering closed, hips rocking, heat turning hotter, wet turning wetter, your sticky, sweet juices clinging to his upper thigh, your own pressed against his saliva-covered cock, wrapping your arms around him, close, closer, you thrusting your tongue in his mouth and him moaning before he did the same to you, starting a tug of war, rubbing harder against his skin, his muscle tensing against your covered clit, friction and wetness everywhere, too many clothes and no eye contact, one of your hands slipping into his black locks and tilting his head, deepening the kiss and inhaling his exhale, shuddering at the erotic nature of the moment.

He mumbled your name against your lips, still clutching your pajamas, stars bunched in his hands, fingertips pressed into the curve of your breasts.

“Can I try the rope tying now?” Seokjin whispered, voice gravelly and low.

-

“Excuse me?”

There was a ripped-open condom wrapper sitting on the bed.

“What?”

Your pajama shirt, bra, and panties were on the floor, along with Seokjin’s shirt, sweatpants, and underwear.

“Why are you – gah!”

You sucked in a breath as you sank down on his cock. Fuck, it was tight, tight as you lowered yourself onto his hips, Seokjin gasping and clutching the long length of red cotton rope that you had carefully untied from his wrists. You had even taken the extra step to massage them afterward, not that he needed it because of your careful work – good job, past you – but he appreciated it all the same, because deep down Kim Seokjin was a prince.

“Oh my God, you’re so tight, shit, shit, shit…”

You neglected to tell your best friend that you were both low-key proud of and turned on by your own ability to take dick without much foreplay. That little edge of tightness added just the right amount of spice of pain that amplified to the pleasure.

Okay.

And yes, you felt a special kind of glee as you witnessed Seokjin’s stunned shock and near passed-out expression from being inside you.

You held out your wrists and grinned. “Go ahead. Tie me up.”

Seokjin gawked at you like you had three heads.

You squeezed your breasts together with your upper arms, tilting your head with a devilish grin.

“God, you’re so hot, but you look crazy,” he wheezed.

Your grin dropped and your eye twitched. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or…?”

Seokjin shrugged, and moved your hands so they were in the better position for him. Much to your annoyance, he didn’t elaborate.

“Um, let’s see, you left a bit out to use as a tie and…”

You began to rock your hips.

“H-Hey!”

The side of your lips curved upward. “What? We’re multitasking.”

“We–?” Seokjin choked, gritting his teeth as you pulsed around his hard length, rolling your hips gently, adjusting until you found a comfortable spot so the head hit you in just the right spot, ah, yes, right there, spreading your fingers out over his chest, leaning your forehead against his, not quite going full force but a slow, deliberate rhythm that wasn’t going to make either of you cum, but, damn, did it feel good.

Seokjin shuddered, gasping your name.

“Tie me up, Seokjin,” you murmured back, caressing his skin.

His eyes darted up, saturated with lust, searching your eyes, and you gazed back.

You could be a real jerk right now.

His hot exhale washed over your lips, a shudder of nervousness.

But this was your best friend, and he was trusting you.

You tilted your head and kissed him softly, flush against his plush lips.

“Come on,” you nudged his nose lightly. “Do it.”

You viewed him from under your lashes. He shivered. Almost.

He needed only one more little push.

“Want you, Seokjinnie,” you breathed against his skin, hints of need and desperation in your voice.

A small smile danced on his lips, staring into your eyes.

You might have fallen for him a little bit in that moment.

“Okay.”

He kissed the side of your mouth, a teasing little peck, and you smirked, turning your head so you wouldn’t break the image you had created for him, but he was already looking down, busily occupied with your wrists, so you drew back, focusing instead on riding him, closing your eyes. You built a leisurely, pleasurable pace, leaning forward a bit to rub your clit against the base of his cock, sighing contentedly at the way he filled you, a wonderful, thick, satisfying girth that you could get used to, other than the fact that most of the time Seokjin drove you up the wall, but, hey, maybe if both of you reached a certain age and you were still single, maybe you could marry your best friend solely for having accessible dick…

“Ah! Perfect.”

You cracked open one eye.

And tried not to burst out laughing.

“Erm… well…” you coughed, tugging at the rope a little. It looked messy and rather hideous, parts overlapping and twisting awkwardly, but he had the… basic idea? It wasn’t like you were going to do anything dumb anyway, so it was pretty good for a first time.

Seokjin frowned. “I don’t know how you did it so neatly…”

“You line up the coils next to each other – ah!”

He seemed to think that was good enough and grabbed handfuls of your ass, causing you to tip forward and brace your hands against his chest, gasping as his hips thrust up into you, abrupt pleasure blooming up your core, sudden squelch of wetness between your joined hips.

“Come on,” he grunted, clenching his jaw, tone getting deeper and more dangerous with each word. “I have to get off, and now.”

He smacked his hands down on your ass and you almost whimpered.

Almost.

Seokjin drew back a little, giving you a strange look.

“W… What?” you managed to get out.

He tilted his head. “Do you like that?”

You almost said, no, of course not, but you stopped yourself, looking down at the red rope tied around your wrists, heat flaring in your cheeks, ass stinging slightly from his slap.

His cock twitched inside you.

Your eyes flickered up to him. A sly smirk danced on your lips.

“Yeah. I like the things you do to me.”

You saw Seokjin pause, brown eyes widening a little, black hair over his forehead.

You pushed him down on the bed. He gasped, but he was used to it now, gripping your ass and tipping his head back as you began to really ride him, waving your hips to ram his cock into your pussy, not even noticing the moan seeping from your lips, fuck, it was good, fulfilling and deep, your bound hands on his chest, fingers spread out and nails digging into his skin a little, but Seokjin seemed to be into it, his own nails sinking into your ass, pushing you down with every descent, hitting you harder, rougher, intensifying the pleasure, building onto it. Hot breath, warm skin, joined hips, loud slaps, rocking bedframe, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, gazing at each other through half-lidded eyes, not quite seeing each other but drowning in the gratification, the roughness, gasping sharply as his open palm smacked down on your ass again, making it bounce and jiggle in his hands, your core and thighs squeezing tighter, witnessing his tight hiss of desire, mesmerized by your sound so he did it again, spanking the other cheek, and you did it again, whimper creeping out, arousal consuming his handsome features, intoxicated by your reaction to his action so he did it again and again, hard, stinging slaps as you rode his stiff, quivering cock harder and faster, fuck, Seokjin must be incredibly turned on because he was so fucking hard, just so incredibly sexy how hard he was right now, even the pain was nothing but an injection of added carnal pleasure, throwing your head back and sinking your nails into his skin, fucking him recklessly, forgetting about hiding your moans, who the fuck cared, not you and not him because Seokjin too was crying out, the sinful sound of sex echoing off his bedroom walls, except instead of you in your bedroom putting headphones on to drown him out, you were in his bedroom, doing it, fucking the daylights out of him.

Alright.

You could see why girls wanted to date your best friend now.

Seokjin was a loud dork, but he had a great dick.

“F-Fuck, Seokjin, fuck!”

He had a similar response, although it was more a choked garble of your name mixed with, “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

You must really be drunk on his dick because even that turned you on and tipped you over the edge.

Your thighs tensed and you moaned deeply, tucking your chin down and spreading your palms onto his pecs, wrists straining against the cotton rope, a rapid torrent of adrenaline soaring through you and then you smacked your ass down onto Seokjin’s crotch, whining as you came in vicious pulses of pleasure, clenching around his jerking length and you realized Seokjin was clutching your ass, pinning it down so you couldn’t move, shooting his release into the condom, so much that you felt his cock shudder and throb inside you, head buried in your deepest, most pleasurable spot, you feeling all of him and him feeling all of you.

Holy shit.

You almost saw stars.

“Hah… wow… I guess I can’t blame younger dudes for wanting this pussy…”

Your eyes weren’t open but your eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Shut up, Seokjin.”

-

“Come on, man! Look what you did!” Seokjin barked accusingly, pointing to his chest with red indents of your rings.

“Excuse me? I’m the one who has scratches and a bruised ass!”

“You’ve marred my beautiful skin! I should fine you!”

“Where’s that fuckin’ whip – get your naked ass back here, Kim Seokjin!”

-

Hm, well, maybe you would find your true love some other time. Maybe try gambling?

--

masterpost

[oftenderweapons]

Dirty ABCs | Namjoon and Vixen

Pairing: Namjoon x Vixen (OC)

Wordcount: 2.1k

Genre: headcanons

Rating: 18+. Minors, do not interact.

This just me having a little bit of fun in between collabs and commissions with an NSFW alphabet, so I can also get to know my characters better (yes, they're just characters. Do not assume the boys like/dislike any of the things I mention). A new drabble should be out soon, but just in case you missed it, here's Jimin's post-Soowoozoo smut! Please, read the trigger warnings carefully 🥺💖

Here's my masterlist! enjoy!!!! 💜✨

Trigger warnings: cumshots, cumeating, creampie, marking, unprotected sex, switch!vixen, switch!joon, daddy!joon, DDLG, lapdance, stripping, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, roleplay, homework within a professorxstudent roleplay, positions (doggy, missionary, reverse cowgirl, bend over), intimacy kink (?), bondage (hands tied, gags), impact play, oral sex, oral fixation, biting, casual mention of foot fetish, food play, choking kink, erotic massage, jealousy (kink), sapiosexuality, size kink, mention of infidelity and sharing partners, mention of outdoor sex, sex toys (dildo, vibrator, manacles, cockring, paddle, buttplug), edging, orgasm denial, orgasm control, overstimulation, BDSM club, uhm...bicuriosity ig?, thickdick!Namjoon, bubblebutt!Vixen impressive sex drive (?)

Aftercare: Namjoon is the kind of guy who’d gladly collapse in bed after some good, nasty fucking. He puts plenty of energy in it and he isn’t content until he’s barely alive before calling it a night. Yes, both him and Vixen need to force the other into heading to the bathroom and cleaning up before falling asleep. When he goes especially hard on her, aftercare becomes a way to relax for both of them: he needs to pamper her to even things out, and she in return likes spoiling him, giving him cuddles, letting him fall asleep with his head on her chest while she strokes his hair. Yes, his favourite cuddle is her touching his hair and chatting about how they felt during sex.

Body part: He most definitely has a thing for legs, hips and ass. Vixen is all about his chest and arms — but, truth is she’s absolutely crazy about his neck.

Cum: He either cums inside or on Vixen’s ass. No other alternatives for him. He hates cumming in her mouth, mostly because her cunt is soooo much better to him; and then again, that means he can eat her out right after — or mark her up and shove his cum back inside. Vixen is a fan of him cumming inside, she’s pretty much traditional about this.

Dirty secret: Namjoon loves when Vixen doms him. He’d never admit that out loud but he’s praying for her to tie him up and strip for him before performing a lapdance and fucking herself with that glass dildo he bought her… He’ll just wait… hopefully… Vixen wants Namjoon to give her homework on some impossible topic and then punish her for every mistake she makes while he’s dressed in a suit and glasses.

Experience: We know all about Joon’s and Vixen’s bodycount. Joon had four, possibly five partners, one of which broke his heart. He wasn’t entirely vanilla with them, but Vixen is most definitely the spiciest he’s been with — and the most rewarding. Vixen had two partners before Namjoon and her first boyfriend was way more experienced than Namjoon is, but that is not an issue to her. She knows if she ever asked him, they could try out pretty much anything.

Favourite position: Namjoon is mostly about doggy and missionary. Doggy for enthusiastic fucking with that teenage eagerness that characterises them both. Missionary when he needs to make love to her slow and steady — though he admits Vixen on top of him in reverse cowgirl is also a hot topic for him. Vixen likes good old missionary since she likes Namjoon’s body shielding hers. She also enjoys bending over for him — especially on the back of the sofa.

Goofy: neither of them is that goofy when it comes to sex. For them is a moment to get rid of tension and gain more intimacy. It’s a moment of communication and connection, and a very spiritual one at that. There might be little giggles and laughs here and there when they’re in a playful mood, but even then they’re more happy than goofy.

Hair: Namjoon trims his hair slightly, just to keep things neat and tidy. Vixen used to shave at the beginning of their relationship. She waxed a few times, to try something different and to feel Namjoon’s tongue better when he goes down on her. She switched to trimming when she found out Namjoon enjoyed a more natural look.

Intimacy: Nothing isn’t intimate between these two. Brushing their teeth together before going to bed? Religion. Getting dinner ready? A ritual. Making love? Therapy. Fucking like gorillas? Relief. These two share one single soul. They’re each other’s temple, and their bedroom is their church.

Jack off: These two? Masturbation galore. They’re the literal proof that being in a relationship should never stop you from taking care of yourself. They masturbate together while they watch porn, they masturbate to the sight of the other one doing it or just watching them. Namjoon is a huge fan of watching Vixen touch herself. He can do it with his hands tied, untied, or stroking his cock. He really doesn’t care as long as he can watch. Plus the fact that the wall dividing his bedroom from the shower is made of glass really gives him the best view when he has morning wood and Vixen is washing herself. And that goes both ways. She likes watching him while she showers, putting on a bit of a show. Vixen also likes watching Namjoon masturbate, though she prefers putting her hands on him. And Namjoon prefers her hands to his own, especially since she’s so fucking good at that.

Kink: We all know these two are the resident DDLG freaks. Other than that Namjoon suffers from a pretty severe case of voyeurism. On the side, all giving, we have oral fixation, impact play, marking, biting, cumplay and cumeating, and a very mild, very experimental foot fetish. He’s also into roleplay, especially regarding school/university environments. To that, we need to add on Vixen’s end exhibitionism and food play, and then, all giving, choking kink, exhibitionism, bondage and gags, erotic massage.

Location: these two need someplace private, since they can’t get in the mood unless they’re 200% sure they can take their time and relax and be as loud as possible. Namjoon would never stand the idea of them getting caught: he needs to protect Vixen. And Vixen would never try something in public. She knows he’d be too focused on the possible dangers to properly enjoy the experience. That doesn’t mean that they don’t tease each other in public. Vixen likes when they talk dirty in public so once they get home Namjoon rips her clothes off her.

Motivation: Namjoon gets turned on whenever Vixen looks incredibly refined and elegant, completely out of his league. Pair that up with someone flirting with her and he goes out of his way to remind her why she got his ring on her finger ten months after they first met. He also gets hot under the collar when he’s reminded of how fucking smart she is; that makes him both proud and horny. On a baser level, she just needs to grind against his thigh, rub her ass on his crotch, kiss his neck or suck his fingers to make him instantly hard. Vixen gets horny very easily when she sees him exercise power — which happens pretty often with him being the leader. Also watching him tower over someone who isn’t her makes her a little volatile — that’s her daddy, he’s her protector.

No: easy. Sharing. Even simply her moans being overheard by someone would make him nervous. Once he used to share everything about his sex life with his friends, but after he and Vixen got engaged, everything involving her without clothes on became a 100% restricted topic. He still happens to talk about sex with his friends, but he must be in need of desperate help in order to share details. Vixen agrees on sharing being a hard no. She also thinks doing stuff in public is absolutely a hard no: she’s far too attached to her job to risk a scandal ruining it. And of course she would never stand Namjoon’s career and reputation going downhill.

Oral: Both fans, Namjoon both on the giving and receiving side, though he prefers giving by far. Vixen is also a fan of receiving. If Namjoon weren’t so damn intimidating, she would enjoy giving more, too.

Pace: depends on the mood. Playful or angry? Then he’s fucking her like she’s nothing but a cocksleeve, straight up jackhammering his way in. Loving and emotional? Then they’re going slow and steady so they can feel every inch of their flesh meeting and parting and squeezing and squelching and sliding.

Quickie: yes, but not excessively. Vixen can only consider a quickie as a form of foreplay. There’s no way to satisfy her unless at least two rounds are involved. Namjoon is more than happy to take his time with her. If they don’t have that much time, they prefer masturbating together — quick, efficient, delectable.

Risk: No? The only risk he would take would be fucking her out in the open, but someplace where the possibility of getting caught is lower than 0.1%. He’d book super secluded villas for their holidays and fuck her until she’s begging him to give her a break.

Stamina: Namjoon hasn’t got too much stamina and Vixen doesn’t either, they just deprive and tease each other when they want to make it super special, otherwise they would be lazy and take naps in between a round and another. And they can truly deal with that brilliantly since they are great at foreplay and that makes up for their rather weak stamina.

Toy: These two are shameless about their toys. Vixen has a thing for dildos, and Namjoon loves spoiling her with those. She has a couple vibrators too, but she’s not that much of a fan: she has a practical one, when she needs things done quick and easy and another one that looked way too cute for her not to have it. In addition to that, they have manacles, a cockring, a paddle and a quite interesting plug.

Unfair: Being with Namjoon is all about the pleasure. He’d much rather overstimulate Vixen rather than deny her. Also because he has very poor control over his instincts and he can’t deny himself. He would tease, edge or deny Vixen only to punish her and make sure that she actually reads that as a punishment and not as some sick way for her to get exactly what she wants (aka spanks). Vixen is more on the teasing side, and she enjoys controlling Namjoon’s orgasms, but she’s very fair. They like to play dirty, but they make sure everyone gets what they need.

Volume: Namjoon is all about low and deep. His moans, groans, growls and grunts all come in a very quiet, although very eloquent way. He prefers keeping it quiet so it feels more intimate. Vixen on the other hand is very vocal, especially when Namjoon goes down on her or is trying to overstimulate her. She’s still considerate about the people living next door, but at the same time, she has a thing for doing it in the studio so she can be as loud as she wants, much to Namjoon’s — and his private tracks’ — chagrin.

Wild card: if it weren’t for his jealousy and his position, Namjoon would love to fuck Vixen in a room full of strangers, just to show how good he can make her feel, and to enjoy just how deranged she would get once adrenaline started kicking in. Claiming her in a semi-public context would help him sate his possessiveness for a good while. Vixen instead would love to go to a BDSM club with Namjoon and watch scenes from other people — maybe, potentially, join? — she most definitely wishes she had done stuff with a girl before getting with Namjoon.

X-Ray: Namjoon is packed. Length is not exceedingly more than average. But match that with more than impressive girth? That’s a wild ride. It most definitely takes a stretch. Vixen has rather small boobs — but she’s more than stubborn to make up with a full, round bubble butt.

Yearning: at the beginning they go pretty wild. Vixen is used to getting at least an orgasm before falling asleep — every night. Of course that tones down once she gets with Namjoon, especially since she learns to prefer quality over quantity and he refuses to get stuff done in ten minutes. She easily slips into a two to three times a week regimen, but deprive her for longer than ten days and she’ll feel neglected. Of course she’d take care of herself, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t start drifting away as she’d feel emotionally neglected too. Namjoon considers himself happy as long as he can have a full weekend of fucking: he tends to cram all the sex in days where he can relax since during the week he’s often too tense to initiate anything sexual. But he wouldn’t deny it if the fancy struck him.

Zzz: He falls asleep like a bear. He goes positively lethargic the moment he hits the bed after cleaning up. Vixen finds it extremely endearing. She usually takes longer, but not too much. She likes cuddling him while he’s sleeping.