#that's normally reserved for my hips!

[ourceliumnetwork]

ok note to self: hours+ of drawing 2 days in a row is not your wrists' favorite thing, maybe take this into account when entering the Vision-Inspired Art Fugue State next time

[sugarwarachan]

voice kink - ft. hitoshi shinsou

it follows him around still, the stigma of his quirk. it normally doesn’t bother him, but when shinsou is in bed with someone, he’s careful with what he says, preferring to keep his mouth shut and announce his pleasure through grunts and sighs

that changes with you. you love his voice and its ability to command you, a level of trust he’s never had with anyone. he can voice every filthy thing he wants to do to you without reserve, without fear of judgment

the first time you tell him to use his quirk on you, he’s manhandling you onto the counter, one hand around your throat, "open wide, pretty" before he stuffs two fingers in your mouth

he wishes the fucked-out, glazed-over expression on your face didn’t make him as hard as it does, but fuck, the way your tongue laves over his fingers and sucks, the way you say "more, ‘toshi" can you blame him for tightening his grip?

laying you out on his bed, he’s whispering a litany of praise and degradation that makes you squirm, "go on, spread your legs for me, sweet thing, let me see how messy I already got this slutty pussy," has the nastiest little smirk when you whine and grab at his hands

"what’s the matter, pretty girl? needy for me, huh?" coats his fingers with your slick, relishing in every noise that falls from your mouth. "all this just from my voice?"

literally won’t put his cock in you until you’re trembling, big hands holding your hips down as he teases his length between your slippery folds—"beg for it"

[tsunodaradio]

cupid’s chokehold ⛐ 𝐈𝐇𝟔

isack brings his girlfriend to pierre’s friendly football match, and everyone in attendance realizes cupid has isack in a chokehold.

ꔮ starring: isack hadjar x girlfriend!reader. ꔮ word count: 0.7k. ꔮ includes: romance, fluff. established relationship, isack hadjar is a loverboy :(, everyone else’s pov, references to gym class heroes’ cupid’s chokehold / breakfast in america. ꔮ commentary box: short and sweet because the boy-next-door-isms of these photos,, i am #changed. 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Everybody knows Isack has a girlfriend.

It’s in the special ringtone he has for you, the one all-too familiar to everyone in the VCARB garage. It’s in the way Isack spends his free time on the phone with you—hours going by with the two of you doing your own thing, as if you’re content to just exist with each other when you’re countries apart. 

It’s in the picture in his wallet, fraying at the edges and fading in its colors like he’s pulled it out one too many times. It’s from his first F2 win, his Campos Racing motor suit drenched in champagne as he lifts you in his arms; his trophy, dangling from your hands. 

Isack has a girlfriend, and everybody is reminded of it at the Pierre Gasly-sponsored football match. 

The rookie had been so shy about it, too. Asking Pierre Can my girlfriend come? in a voice too full of hope to decline. And so Pierre had ribbed Isack a bit, only conceding when the latter’s ears were burning red with embarrassment. 

You run late. Isack doesn’t say a word about it. He seems physically incapable of saying anything bad about you as he describes you to Paul and Zhou with an obnoxious amount of enthusiasm. 

“She’s got this smile,” Isack tells them as he pulls on his MC Alger jersey, “and her eyes. Oh, man.” 

Paul and Zhou share an amused look. The Frenchman isn’t making any sense, but they’ll endure it for the sake of having more ammunition later on. 

When you do arrive—spewing apologies for your tardiness, armed with pastries for everyone—it becomes apparent just how down bad Isack really is. 

There’s the secret handshake, of course. The one you two exchange the moment he’s helped you set down your boxes of treats. Zhou watches, awed, as you and Isack go through the elaborate routine without batting an eye. You immediately go to converse with Pierre like you hadn’t spent 15 seconds knocking fists and linking pinkies with Isack in a faultless shtick. 

“Insane,” huffs Zhou, drawing a snicker from Paul. 

Isack follows you as you do your rounds. You’re already familiar with Paul. The two of you exchange a one-armed hug, impeded by the hand Isack firmly keeps at your hip. 

You have to be introduced to Zhou, though. “Hi,” you say brightly, and in a heartbeat, the Ferrari reserve driver sees exactly what has Isack so smitten. 

You give out your name and shake Zhou’s hand. Isack stands by your side the entire time, his expression so openly smug that it can only mean one thing. 

Take a look at my girlfriend, he’s saying without saying. 

It’s in the little details, really. Zhou notices the way Isack plants a kiss to the top of your head before they have to head out on the field. Paul rolls his eyes when Isack scores a goal, slams his fist into his chest, and then points directly at you. 

Pierre giggles, actually giggles, when the game ends and Isack makes a beeline to you. 

The three drivers—poised to take a selfie—pause to watch the scene unfold. 

“Not bad, Alexandre,” you tease Isack. Normally, if any other person attempted to refer to Isack by his second name, they would be treated to the boy’s icy glare. 

You don’t get that, of course. You get an Isack who melts, his shoulders drooping like the mere sound of your voice had taken away his exhaustion. And when you laugh, wiping sweat off of Isack’s forehead with undeniable affection? 

He looks done for. Like there’s no one else he’ll ever look at like that. 

“How did I do?” he asks you eagerly, and when you feign thoughtfulness, he lets out an almost petulant whine. 

This was Isack Hadjar. Former F2 championship contender, VCARB’s best shot at points. He was known for his shadow-boxing on the podium, for his passionate radio messages. 

Surely this was not the same Isack Hadjar. 

This Isack is wringing his hands over yours, desperate for any scrap of affection and approval. This Isack is ruddy-cheeked, and devoted, and so obviously in love that it’s sickening. 

Paul whistles, calling Isack over for photos. Somehow, the latter manages to tear himself away from you, but the dazed expression lingers even as he jogs back to where the rest of the drivers are waiting. You stay where you are, seeming completely oblivious to the effect you have on your boyfriend. 

“If that ain’t love,” Pierre sing-songs to Paul and Zhou, “I don’t know what love is.” ⛐

[tranquilreign]

the next step | oneshot

- © tranquilreign - all rights reserved | DO NOT STEAL, TAKE, or COPY any of MY WORK without MY PERMISSION.

pairing; jungkook/reader genre: fluff, smut, boyfriend!jk virgin!reader warnings; sexual themes, soft sex, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, awkward moments (it's normal), discomfort, slight pain, swearing, jungkook is so precious in this word count: 5.4k synopsis: you and jungkook have been dating for nearly four months, yet have never taken it to the next step. with valentine's day on the way, you try to fight your nerves and make an attempt to seduce him, with the help of your best friend, seokjin.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

You sat with your face in your hands, peering out through your fingers. Seokjin, your best friend, had dragged you into Victoria's Secret, tossing every piece of lingerie he could find in your size into your hands. You had told him that you were finally ready to take the next step with Jungkook, your boyfriend.

You had been dating for four months, and he couldn't have been more patient with you. He never pushed you to do anything you didn't want, even when you noticed his bulge straining in his trousers.

"Don't worry, baby. I can sort myself out."

He would reassure you that you didn't need to do anything for him, simply because he was turned on. You always felt guilty when you pulled away from his kisses, growing shy at the thought of it going further.

So, who better to go to than your best friend, Seokjin? You had asked him to meet up for coffee and have a catch-up. You had then dropped the question on him.

"No."

"Seokjin, please! I really need your help," you pleaded.

"No offence, Y/n, but you're a lost cause."

You frowned, pulling out 200,000 won. Seokjin stared at you for a moment. He snatched the money out of your hand and quickly counted it through. He hummed, nodding.

"Fine."

"Jinnie, you know red isn't my colour," you whined, holding up a matching set of crimson lingerie.

The sight of the revealing clothes made you blush. You felt mortified at the thought of Jungkook seeing you in something so minimal. Tossing the outfit to the side, you noticed Seokjin standing in front of you with his hands on his hips.

"If you're going to discard every one of my suggestions, I may as well not help you."

"Seokjin, you've thrown everything in this store at me. I don't really know what to do with all this. And I certainly can't afford it all," you explained.

"Well, obviously you're not going to get them all," Seokjin stated as if it were obvious.

You shrank in your seat, feeling embarrassed by his scolding. You were clueless about how to wear the extra pieces. Simply put, you didn’t understand.

Seokjin moved, grabbing one of the sets and holding it up to your chest. After a moment's thought, he threw it at one of the store assistants.

"These are simply no good," he scoffed, throwing another set at the assistant. "Samantha, we're going to need these set in black, white, green and red."

The woman nodded and hurried off to the back of the store. You watched in awe at how quick she complied with his request. You leaned forward slightly, placing your head in your hands.

"Seokjin, I told you red isn't my colour."

"Trust me, Y/n. Red is your colour," he reassured. "Come with me."

Seokjin pulled you up and escorted you to the changing rooms on the other side of the store. Samantha stood, waiting for you to arrive and handed Seokjin the items he had requested.

"Thank you, Samantha," Seokjin muttered, pushing you into one of the changing rooms. "Here." Your friend handed you every single set Samantha had found. "Change. And when you're done, show me."

"W-what?! I'm not going to show you," you stammered, subconsciously covering your chest as if you were already exposed to him.

"Honey, how am I supposed to know what is best for you if I can't see it. Besides, I've known you since we were kids. And the fact I'm gay."

You huffed, drawing the curtain and began to undress. Pulling your top over your head, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. Your bra dug into your sides, and your breasts were spilling out of the cups. You never could find the right size.

You unclasped your bra and picked up the black lingerie beside you. Staring at it, you felt confused about where the extra straps were meant to sit.

"Um, Seokjin, I don't really know how to say this," you confessed shyly. "I don't know how to put this on."

You were quick to cover yourself when the curtain flew open. Samantha had walked in and stared at you. She helped guide your arms into the bra and adjusted the straps, making it more comfortable for you.

"This part sits here," she explained, sorting the extra strap that sat underneath your bust. "And the other ones," she pointed to your breasts. "They are just for decoration; they don't serve any purpose."

"Right, thank you."

Samantha smiled and left the room. You turned around to look at yourself in the mirror. You were surprised at how beautiful your figure looked. Your breasts were perfectly positioned in the cups, and you appreciated that the straps didn't pinch or dig into your skin.

You were quick to put on the underwear, calling on Seokjin when you had finished. He entered, placing a hand under his chin, examining you. You looked around the room, awkwardly waiting for him to say something.

"Good. Next!"

You smiled gleefully, your confidence growing by the second. Seokjin walked out and waited for the next set.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Two hours had passed by the time you finished trying on lingerie. After going through the many sets that Seokjin had picked out, he finally decided on three: green, black, and red. You attempted to argue with him about the red set, but to no avail; Seokjin's decision was final.

"They are already bought," Seokjin mentioned as you exited the changing room.

"Jinnie, you really didn't need to do that," you pouted.

"It's no big deal, besides, I just used the money you gave me. So really, I wasn't paying for all of it." You rolled your eyes, knowing that would be something Seokjin would do.

"So, where to next?" you asked as you both left the store.

Seokjin stood for a moment, pulling out his phone and texting someone. You were silent, watching him patiently, until he closed his phone and brushed his hair out of his face dramatically.

"We will continue tomorrow. We need to boost your confidence. So I've booked you in for a boudoir session."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't worry, Taehyung will be doing your photoshoot, so he said it was on him," Seokjin casually responded. "I'll see you tomorrow, Y/n."

With that, Seokjin left you on your own, mouth hanging open. Of all the things to help, he had to book you into the most extreme of them all.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The following day had come around quicker than you had hoped. You were sitting in the waiting area of the boudoir studio while Seokjin was speaking with the receptionist. You fiddled with your cuticles, trying not to pick at them from nervousness.

It was nearly 2:00 PM when Taehyung walked out from the back of the studio to greet Seokjin.

"Hello there, Jin. It's been a while, hasn't it?" Taehyung greeted, giving his friend a tight hug.

"Tae, it's always good to see you. I apologise for this being so last minute, but Y/n here," Seokjin gestured to you, "is having a little trouble having some confidence in herself at the moment."

"I see," Taehyung said softly, observing your posture. "Don't worry, love. By the end of this session, you'll feel like a new woman." Taehyung was gentle and encouraging with his words as he guided you through the back.

You were surprised to see the various toys displayed on a small table to the side of the room. In the centre, multiple sets were arranged, showcasing a bedroom and a kitchen.

"We don't have to use any of the items I have here if you're not comfortable with them. However, once you get started and build some confidence, I think you'll want to give them a try," Taehyung explained.

You remained silent, your eyes scanning the room, absorbing everything. You felt uncertain about how to respond. This situation was so far outside your comfort zone that standing there made you feel foolish.

"Here, love, if you get changed into your lingerie behind the curtain there, I can get the camera set up. And if you'd prefer, there's a robe in there for you to put on over the top of your lingerie, okay?"

You only nodded, shuffling to the small room and glancing around. You were hesitant to change, trying your best to stall the situation at hand. It was only when you heard Seokjin's voice that you started to move.

"Y/n, you can't be wasting Taehyung's time like this. He has other clients today as well."

You had wrapped the robe around you, just as you moved out from behind the curtain. Taehyung smiled at you, placing his hand on the small of your back to bring you to the centre of the room.

"Now we typically do a full face of make-up. But from what Seokjin has told me, you prefer it light. Minimal foundation. However, I would like to do a skin-tint and a smokey eye if that's alright?"

"S-sure."

With that, Taehyung brought you over to a make-up chair and spun you around to look at him. He was quick with his work, but gentle. Applying little pressure to your eyes when he applied the eyeshadow. Not even ten minutes later, you were finished and ready for your photoshoot.

"Now, would you prefer your photos taken in the bedroom or kitchen first. Most ladies who are a little more on the shy side prefer the kitchen to begin with, as it's not as... intimate a room," Taehyung explained.

"We can go to the kitchen."

"Perfect," Taehyung beamed, gently taking your hand and escorting you to the kitchen. "Now, I just want you to relax, okay? I'll help you get into positions so you aren't overthinking anything."

You stayed quiet, trying your hardest to let yourself relax. Taehyung sighed slightly, seeing your stiffness. He approached you and gently grabbed your arms.

"I know this is difficult for you, Y/n. But it will just be harder if you don't work with me. Trust me, I'll take good care of you. That, I promise."

With that, you let your arms drop completely to your sides, nodding. Taehyung smiled, gave you a quick thumbs up, and handed his camera to Seokjin. He motioned for you to take off your robe, and you did so, reluctantly.

"First, we'll get you up onto the counter and have you lying down."

You climbed onto the countertop, following Taehyung's instructions. He asked you to prop yourself up on your elbows, bending your leg furthest from the camera while keeping the other leg straight.

"Perfect, now finally I want you to just let your head fall back, okay? Look straight up at the ceiling," Taehyung finished.

You looked up, staring at nothing in particular. You started to laugh at the awkwardness, but Taehyung loved it.

"Brilliant!" he praised, snapping as many shots as he could.

Over time, your confidence grew as you began to enjoy the photoshoot. As the session continued, you moved from the countertop to one of the chairs, sitting backwards with your legs spread wide.

"Beautiful, Y/n. Beautiful!" Taehyung beamed. "Your partner sure is lucky indeed."

"I would like to take the rest of the photos in the bedroom set, if that's okay?" you asked, smiling hopefully.

"Of course, love. Just make your way over and we'll get the lighting moved for you."

You walked over to the bed and sat down, waiting for everything to get set up. Taehyung once again, instructed you into position, sitting you on the floor to begin with.

"Now, if you could bring your arms up over your head, and bend one across the way. Yup! Perfect."

The camera flashed repeatedly, capturing your beauty from every angle. You had caught sight of Seokjin, who was giving you the thumbs up.

"Great, now if you move onto the bed. Would you like to try some of the toys? Maybe if we have you put on the handcuffs and maybe a blindfold?"

You nodded eagerly, showing your enjoyment. Taehyung and Seokjin laughed as they gathered the necessary items. Taehyung carefully tied the restraints around your wrists, checking in with you from time to time to ensure they weren’t too tight. Lastly, he placed the blindfold over your eyes gently, being careful not to mess up your hair.

"Right, I'll need to move you myself into position. Is that alright with you?" Taehyung asked.

"Of course," you responded.

Taehyung was careful where he touched you, making sure not to touch anywhere above your knees when moving your legs. He stepped away once he had finished, and you heard the snapping of the camera once again.

A few more positions and toys later, you had finally finished your session. Taehyung allowed you to get dressed back into your regular clothing and called you over to look at the photos.

You were stunned by how beautiful you looked. Your confidence shone in the images, and it was clear you were having fun.

"I'll print all of these and send them to you in a couple of days. I just need your address." You wrote your address down on a notepad Taehyung had handed you.

"Thank you so much, Tae. I really appreciate you doing this for me. Are you sure there's no way I can pay you for this?" Taehyung laughed.

"Don't worry about it, Y/n. Working with you was payment enough. You would be an incredible model." You smiled shyly at the compliment. "I'm sorry to rush you both, however, I have another client due in five minutes."

You hurriedly hugged Taehyung and bid him farewell as you and Seokjin exited the building.

"I'm really proud of you, Y/n," Seokjin smiled. "You've already come a long way."

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

A few days later, Seokjin got in touch with you again. This time, dragging you to a salon, having you booked in for a manicure, pedicure and getting your hair styled.

"Jimin~" Seokjin cooed upon entering the salon. You followed behind quietly, allowing the two men to greet each other before introducing yourself.

"Seokjin!" a man beamed. He was shorter than your friend, but a very beautiful man. Shimmer glittered his eyelids and cheekbones, enhancing his features. "And you must be Y/n. I've heard so much about you!"

"It's lovely to meet you," you said, holding out your hand.

"Oh, honey, we don't do that here," Jimin teased, pulling you into a hug. "And I most certainly don't bite."

Jimin escorted you into the salon chair and fluffed your hair, examining it. He hummed quietly to himself, pulling strands of your hair in front of your face, trying to imagine the perfect style for you.

"First, we will get your mani and pedi done. Then I'll have you back here for your hair. Sound good?" You nodded, hopping out of your chair and into one at the manicure section of the salon.

When you returned to Jimin, you had a new set of French-tip nails that matched your pedicure. He beamed upon seeing the matching set, praising his co-workers for their expertise.

"Now, honey, if you just sit tight, I'll get your hair looking brand new. Trust me, you'll love it."

Jimin had begun his work when your phone buzzed. Looking down, you noticed a message from Jungkook. A smile crept onto your face upon seeing his name. You unlocked your phone, opening the message.

'Hi baby, I know you know I don't do Valentine's Day, but I booked us a table at that Japanese restaurant you love so much. xx'

You smiled reading the message. Normally, you would be ecstatic about this reservation. But this time, you wanted to focus on him only.

'Hey. I actually have something planned for us already. Would you mind cancelling the reservation? xx'

Ping. He responded immediately.

'Oh? What are we doing?'

'It's a surprise. xx'

You giggled a little, catching Jimin's attention.

"Is that the boyfriend, honey?"

"Yeah, he's asking what I have planned for us on Valentine's Day," you laughed a little when Jimin grinned.

"Jin informed me of your boudoir session yesterday. He mentioned how well you had done, despite you being so nervous to begin with," Jimin smiled warmly.

"Yeah, I wasn't expecting to have so much fun with it, and to enjoy feeling myself? I guess?"

"Well, from what I've been told, you expressed confidence Seokjin himself had never seen from you. That's a big achievement," Jimin explained, pulling your hair in different directions, making small cuts.

"I honestly wouldn't have any confidence if it weren't for Seokjin and Taehyung. And you, of course."

"Your confidence comes from you. No one else. Taehyung and Seokjin just helped you realise your potential. It was you who made it happen."

It was only ten minutes later when Jimin had finished your hair. You gasped, impressed by his styling and his swiftness.

"You're very lucky, Y/n. You're hair is already so luscious and healthy. I just needed to shape it a little bit," Jimin explained, placing his hands on his hips.

"Thank you so much. I appreciate you doing this for me." You moved to take your purse out when Jimin stopped you.

"Oh no, honey, this is on me."

"I can't have you do that. Taehyung did this yesterday, please. If you won't take a full payment, at least let me tip you," you pleaded, holding out 30,000 won.

"Fine, but that's all you're allowed to pay," Jimin scolded, playfully tapping your head with a magazine. "Now go, enjoy the rest of your day, and have a lovely Valentine's Day."

"Thank you, Jimin. I'll be back next week for my haircut, and all the details," Seokjin called, earning a smack on the arm from you.

"Jinnie!" you frowned.

"Oh, like you won't tell me everything that happens the next day," Seokjin fired back, making you go quiet. "That's what I thought. I am your best friend after all." You laughed lightly.

"That you are Seokjin."

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Valentine's Day had finally arrived. You paced back and forward in your bedroom, waiting for Jungkook to arrive. Everything that Seokjin had taught you had gone out the window. You were overthinking. It was one thing to be confident in yourself and even find yourself sexy.

But having your partner think that of you was completely different. You had spent forty minutes deciding on what lingerie set to wear, calling Seokjin frantically.

"Y/n. The red one," was all Seokjin said before he hung up, leaving you to yourself. You didn't agree with him, but still put it on nonetheless, trusting his judgement.

Your makeup was simple, yet sultry. A robe was tied loosely around your waist, and your hair was as perfect as the day Jimin had styled it. You looked perfect, but you didn't feel it.

Your head snapped to the sound of the front door opening, indicating Jungkook was home.

"Baby? I'm home."

"Now's not the time to get scared," you told yourself.

Quickly, you tightened the belt around your robe and grabbed the envelope on your bedside table, which held the boudoir photos. You quickly pushed your hair out of your face, sitting down on the bed and crossing your left leg over your right, making sure to expose your thighs.

"Baby?" Jungkook asked, opening the bedroom door.

He stopped when he saw you, surprised to see you the way you were. You attempted to use the envelope to fan your face slowly, but with your nerves getting the better of you, your fanning was becoming more aggressive.

"Are you okay, Y/n? Did you not hear me come in?" Jungkook asked, pulling off his jacket and placing it onto the bed.

"I-I'm fine," you stammered. "Just a little warm," you added.

Jungkook looked at you quizzically. He went to unbutton his shirt when you suddenly stood up. He halted, watching your movements closely.

"I actually have something to show you." Your attempt at sounding sexy was backfiring, making you feel foolish.

You went to untie your robe when you ran into a problem. It was too tight. With your back to Jungkook, you fiddled and tugged at the belt, a poor attempt to untie it. You cursed un your breath.

"Baby? Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine," you responded, your voice failing you as tears began to well in your eyes.

Jungkook recognised the tone of your voice immediately and made his way over to you. You shrugged off his hand when he placed it on your shoulder, growing more frustrated.

"Darling," Jungkook cooed.

You stopped, allowing tears to cascade down your face, accepting you had messed everything up. You spun around, burying your face into Jungkook's chest as you cried. Jungkook was confused, but he stayed silent, running his hand through your hair lovingly.

"Tell me what's wrong, baby," Jungkook comforted, leading you over to the bed and sitting you down. He knelt down in front of you, his heart breaking at your tears.

"I-I just wanted this to be perfect," you choked.

"What did you want to be perfect?"

"I was finally ready. I wanted- I wanted to fully give myself to you," you sobbed, your head hanging low.

Jungkook finally realised what was happening. He couldn't help but smile at your efforts, finding it cute that you would go to such lengths for him. He placed his fingers under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him.

"You don't need to do any of this for me, baby. I love you just the way you are. You're nothing short of perfect."

"But I had done all this for you. I just wanted it to go right," you sighed, wiping away your tears with the sleeve of your robe.

"Well, how about we start again? I'll help you get this untied, and we can go from there. But only if you are sure you want to do this," Jungkook stated, seriousness in his eyes.

"Yes, I want to."

With your verbal consent, he pulled you to your feet and allowed his hands to move from your shoulders to your belt. With ease, he untied the belt. He looked at you one more time, silently asking if he could continue.

You moved your hands to the opening of your robe, pulling it back and allowing it to fall off your shoulders to the floor. Jungkook bit his lip, looking at how perfect you looked.

"You look breathtaking in red," he breathed, his eyes landing on your breasts.

He watched as your chest rose from your nervous breathing, the sight almost making him lose control. He moved his hand up, lightly tracing the back of his forefinger down your cheek. You shivered at the contact, making him smirk. Moving his hand down to your bra, he gently tugged at one of the decorative straps lying over your breast.

"God, you are stunning," he whispered, moving to wrap his arms around your waist.

He pulled you in close, letting his lips ghost yours, leaving you breathless. He moved to your cheek, planting soft kisses down to your shoulder. He moved further down, just above your breasts and kissed the same spot. You let out a quiet moan, feeling him suck and nibble at your skin.

When he pulled away, he smirked at his work. A small hickey was now placed above your left breast. His gaze moved up to your face, taking in your expression. Your eyes were closed, breathing heavy, biting your lip to suppress your moans.

"Can I lie you down on the bed, baby?" he whispered. You nodded.

"Yes."

He lifted you with ease, bringing your round to the side of the bed and lying you down. He stripped himself of his shirt, giving you a moment to stare at him. You had seen him shirtless plenty of times. But now, it was different. You took in every inch of him, admiring every muscle and tattoo. Without thinking, you sat up, placing your hand at the hem of his trousers, sliding upwards toward his neck, kissing his torso as you did so.

He let his head fall backwards, muttering quietly under his breath. Your touch drove him crazy, and he couldn't explain why. How soft your skin was, and your delicate touches. All he wanted was for you to constantly be touching him.

You had pulled back, noticing the bulge in his pants. You brought your hands to his trousers, unbuttoning them slowly, teasingly. He watched you, his gaze intense. Only when you leaned back down onto the bed did he move, removing his trousers in a shift motion and climbing on top of you.

"Please, let me kiss you," he pleaded, his tone taking you by surprise. You had never heard him so needy.

"Of course, Kook."

Jungkook wasted no time closing the gap between the two of you, letting your lips mould with one another. Your breath caught in your throat when his hand traced down to your waist, gripping it tightly. He pulled away, looking over you to make sure you were okay.

"Don't stop," you whispered, pulling his back down.

You felt him slowly begin to grind into you, adding to your excitement. He moved from your lips and peppered kisses down until he reached your stomach. He looked up at you, hooking his fingers around the band of your underwear. You nodded eagerly.

In one swift motion, your underwear was pulled off and discarded on the bedroom floor. He lay flat on the bed, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you closer to him.

"If there's anything I do that doesn't feel right, let me know, baby," he reassured. You silently agreed. He moved his face closer between your legs. His breath tickled your thighs, making you giggle slightly.

You gasped when Jungkooks lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently, while his tongue moved up and down in a rhythmic motion. Your hands moved to his hair, back arching as a moan escaped your mouth.

"I-I'm sorry," you panted, flustered.

Jungkook pulled away, chuckling softly at how cute you were. He gently kissed up your inner thigh, then back down.

"There is no need to apologise, baby. If anything, it gives me confidence that I'm making you feel good. So let me hear you moan for me."

Jungkook moved back down between your legs and continued. A string of moans left you as Jungkook pleasured you. Every now and then, he would change his pace, slowing down or speeding up. You grew frustrated with his teasing, whining from the pleasure.

"Please."

Jungkook stopped.

"Please, what?"

"Please, make me come," you pleaded, looking down at him.

His eyes were filled with lust and love, grinning mischievously. He moved back one more time, this time keeping the same pace. He flicked his tongue against your clit, feeling your grip tighten in his hair, he knew you were close.

Jungkook felt you come undone against his tongue, your body shaking in ecstasy. He moved down to your entrance, licking from the bottom up to your clit, tasting you. You jerked at the sensitivity. He breathed out a laugh, the cold air hitting against you.

"Did that feel good, baby?" he asked while kissing your thighs.

"Fuck, yes."

Jungkook took the opportunity to move back up, so he was hovering over you. You avoided eye contact with him, becoming shy at how easily you came. He waited until you looked back at him.

"We can stop here if you-"

"No," you answered a little too quickly. "I-I want to go the whole way."

"That's a good girl," Jungkook smirked, standing up and pulling his boxers off.

You couldn't help but stare as he did so, unable to take your eyes off his size. You swallowed a little, your nerves beginning to return. He reached over to his bedside table and opened the drawer, pulling out a small silver packet.

He tore it open with his teeth, pulling out a condom from the foil. He pulled it over his cock and rolled it down, making sure it sat securely at the base. Jungkook then crawled back on top of you and grabbed hold of himself.

"I'm going to ask one more time. Are you sure?" he asked, noticing how your face changed.

"Y-Yes, I'm sure. I'm just nervous," you replied shyly. Jungkook planted a soft kiss against your forehead.

"It's okay to be nervous, baby," Jungkook soothed. "But I will say, with you still being a virgin, this may hurt a little bit. Okay?"

You nodded in response, wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook rubbed his tip against your entrance, coating himself in your wetness.

He was gentle, slowly easing in and out a little bit at a time, getting you used to the feeling. Your eyes scrunched shut when he began to push further in, the stretch becoming painful. Your nails dug into Jungkook's shoulders. He took that moment to stop, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Please tell me you're almost in," you winced.

"I'm afraid we're only halfway," Jungkook informed. You laughed a little, trying to take your mind off the pain you were feeling below. "You're taking me so well, baby. Just a little further."

Jungkook's words filled you with reassurance, and you gestured for him to move again. With one final push, Jungkook was all the way in. You let out a quiet grunt in pain at the feeling. Like before, Jungkook stayed still, waiting until you were ready.

He kissed your face, attempting to take your mind off the ache. You breathed heavily, trying to allow yourself to relax a little more. Jungkook whispered praises in your ear, telling you how good you were doing.

When you felt that you were finally ready, you nodded, signalling for Jungkook to move. He moved his hand behind your back, raising you up slightly. Slowly, he pulled out and slid back in, making you both moan in unison.

"Fuck," he whispered.

The feeling of you tightening around his cock had him fighting not to finish. He often fantasised about how you felt, but he had never thought you'd feel this good.

"Oh my God," you gasped, feeling him stretch you with every thrust.

He continued his steady pace, sweat beginning to form on his forehead. He moved his hand from your back to your face, making you look at him.

"Will you-" he grunted, "will you come with me?"

You couldn't speak, only nodding in response. He took the opportunity to pick up his pace a little, thrusting deeper. The feeling had you in a state of euphoria, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm grew closer.

"Fuck, Kook- I'm gonna-" you couldn't finish as you reached your high. You pulled yourself up to his chest, needing to be close to him as he came shortly after. His breathing was uneven, hair sticking to his forehead as he rode out both your highs.

He finally stopped, slowly pulling out of you, and moving to lie on the other side of the bed. You closed your legs, pouting at the sudden loss of contact.

Jungkook rolled off the bed and made his way to the bathroom. Confused, you sat up and waited for him to come back. He returned shortly with a damp washcloth and sat at the bottom of the bed.

"Open your legs for me, baby."

You complied, slowly spreading your legs again. Jungkook brought the cloth to your entrance, gently wiping away any excess saliva and sweat, being careful not to brush your sensitive clit.

"I did rip you a little bit. I'm sorry," Jungkook apologised, wiping away a little bit of blood that had mixed in with your orgasm.

"It's okay," you replied. "Was I- was I okay?" you asked sheepishly.

Jungkook pulled back from you, tilting his head, giving you a knowing look.

"You know you were more than okay. You were perfect. I'm glad you were confident enough to show me all of you," Jungkook praised, leaning forward to cup your cheek in his hand.

"I love you, Kook," you hummed, closing your legs and moving slowly to him. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, taking in the mixture of your scent and sweat.

"I love you, too, baby."

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

hey there! thank you so much for reading! i will say, I am really proud of this piece, as it's the first time I've wrote smile in a while! please let me know what you think and if I should do more in the future!

if you've made it this far please take a look at my other works. or you're interested in making a request please look at the links below!

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tranquilreign~

[thef1diary]

Anytime, Anywhere | D. Ricciardo

Kinktober 4/11 - Free Use

Summary: it didn’t matter if you were in the safety of your home or not, Daniel could have you whenever he wanted.

warnings: 18+ smut, consensual free use, unprotected sex, slight breast play, lil bit of degradation, praise kink, fingering, Daniel’s like obsessed w your cunt

please note, though not explicitly mentioned, the free use arrangement is completely consensual from both sides aka no one is doing anything they don’t want to. also, huge thank you to @emchante for proofreading this, love you loads!

wc: 4.5k

kinktober masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

The kitchen is warm, filled with the comforting scent of herbs and spices simmering on the stove. You’re standing by the counter, chopping vegetables, the rhythm of the knife steady against the cutting board. It’s a quiet moment, one where you’d normally lose yourself in the task, but you can already feel Daniel’s presence approaching behind you.

“Danny, can you help me with—” The words are barely out of your mouth when you feel him press up against you from behind, his hands sliding around your waist, his chest firm. His lips find the curve of your neck instantly, peppering kisses all over.

You let out a soft sigh, tilting your head to the side to give him more access, but you try to keep your focus on the vegetables in front of you. Your movements slowed down, the rhythmic chopping faltering as his kisses grew insistent. His teeth grazed your skin lightly, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Daniel…” you murmured, but there’s no hint of resistance in your voice.

“I’m right here,” he murmured against your neck, his voice low. His hands roam lower, over your hips before dipping under the hem of your skirt. His featherlight touch glides over your inner thighs before grasping on the fabric, slowly pulling it up until it’s bunched around your waist.

Your breath catches in your throat as the cool air hits your skin, and though you try to keep chopping, your focus splinters under the heat of his touch. His fingers graze over the bare skin of your hips and trailing lower, until he reaches the space where your panties should’ve been. But there’s nothing. Just you, completely exposed and ready for him.

His soft chuckle vibrates against your neck, lips still ghosting over your skin. “Good girl,” he mutters, his voice a rough whisper. The praise sends a wave of warmth through you, your cunt’s wetness slicking your thighs as evidence.

Daniel’s hand lingers between your thighs, fingers gliding over your folds with deliberate teasing strokes. Ever since the two of you had agreed on this, there was no point in wearing anything that might get in the way of what he wanted.

You’d stopped wearing panties completely, abandoning them in favor of clothing that granted him easy access whenever the mood struck. Skirts had become your uniform—simple, accessible, and a constant reminder of your submission to him. All he needed to do was lift the hem, and you were his, no flimsy barriers in place.

Over time, he’d indulge you with a wardrobe full of skirts, each one shorter than the last. With every new skirt, the tease was more potent, the air against your bare skin constantly reminding you that you were his for the taking, any time he desired.

He’d spoiled you this way, every hemline a bit more revealing, every breeze between your legs a subtle promise of what was to come. And now, as his fingers glide over your wetness, you know exactly why you’d agreed to it. The ease with which he could take control of your body was intoxicating, leaving you vulnerable in the best possible way.

His fingers part your slick folds as he dips into your wetness, collecting it on his fingertips. He hums in low approval, bringing his fingers up to his mouth. He sucks them clean, savouring the taste with a deep, satisfied groan.

Daniel’s body pressing you firmly against the counter is the only thing keeping you upright as your focus shifts from the task at hand to the overwhelming presence behind you. The rich, earthy aroma of herbs and spices simmering on the stove fades into the background, eclipsed by the intoxicating scent of Daniel—something undeniably masculine, warm, and familiar. His scent wraps around you, filling your senses as he holds you there, exposed and vulnerable.

His hand doesn’t stay idle for long. He reaches for the neckline of your shirt, fingers hooking under the fabric, and with one swift motion, he pulls it down. The cool air hits your bare chest, and your nipples harden immediately. You gasp at the sudden exposure, your body arching into the pleasure. You never bothered with bras at home, not when Daniel made it clear he preferred you without them.

“Just the way I like it,” Daniel mutters, his large hands cup your boobs, playing with the soft, supple mounds. His thumbs circle your nipples, teasing them with a featherlight touch that has you biting your lip, struggling to hold back a moan.

You suck in a sharp breath as he toys with you, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. You can feel him grinning against your neck, savouring the way your body responds to him without resistance. Your thighs tremble, wetness slicking your skin as you try, and fail, to stay focused on the task in front of you.

“Drop the knife,” he commands, his voice barely above a whisper, but the authority in it is undeniable. The tone sends a shiver down your spine, your fingers instantly loosening their grip on the handle. The knife clatters to the counter, forgotten as his hands slide down your body with purpose. Compliance comes easily, a reflex born out of the silent understanding between you.

He grips your hips, tugging you with him as he takes a few steps back, pressing your ass against his clothed cock. His rough palms spread your cheeks apart, and you hear the low groan of approval as he watches your arousal drip down your pussy and onto your thighs.

“Fuck,” Daniel muttered, his voice thick with lust. “Look at you… already so wet.”

You whimper, the sound barely leaving your throat as his fingers brush lightly over your folds, spreading your wetness further. You can feel him watching you, the intensity of his gaze heavy as he marvels at the way your body responds to him. You don’t dare to move, don’t even think of it, not when you know exactly what’s coming next.

Without warning, he reaches forward and swipes the cutting board out of the way, sending the vegetables scattering. His grip on your hips tightens as he bends you over the counter, pressing your chest flat against the cool surface. The sudden shift makes your breath hitch, and you brace yourself, palms splayed out on the flat surface beside you, your body already trembling with anticipation.

Daniel wastes no time. His hands grip your hips firmly, and you can feel the rough fabric of his jeans grazing against the back of your thighs. He hadn’t even bothered to take them off completely, too desperate to get inside you. The sensation of the denim biting into your skin is the only warning you get before he pushes into you—thick, unrelenting, and all at once.

A gasp escapes your lips, sharp and breathless, as your mouth falls open in shock. He stretches you to the limit, filling you completely in one brutal thrust.

“That’s it,” he growls, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, holding you in place. “Take it.”

The pleasure is immediate and overwhelming, your body instinctively arching to meet his rough thrusts. Each movement is purposeful, brutal, and all-consuming. You can feel how desperate he is to claim you, to remind you of exactly who you belong to. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the kitchen, mixed with your broken moans and the low groans coming from Daniel.

His hand moves down to your ass, spreading you wider as he watches himself disappear inside you, over and over again. The filthy sound of your slickness meeting each thrust fills the room, and he curses under his breath, eyes locked on the sight.

“You’re s’good for me,” Daniel grunts, pounding into you harder. “So eager to let me use you.”

Your mind blanks, your nails scraping against the countertop as you nod frantically, unable to form a coherent response. The only thing grounding you is the feeling of him inside you, fucking you like he owns you—and in this moment, he does.

“Fuck, Daniel…” you moan, voice shaky, barely audible over the sound of his cock thrusting into you.

He leans down, his chest pressing against your back, lips brushing against your ear. “You were made for this,” he muttered, his pace quickening, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Made to be fucked like this. Mine to take whenever I want.”

His words send you spiraling, your body tightening around him as the pleasure builds to a breaking point. He can feel it, too, the way your pussy clenches around his cock, and it only spurs him on, his hips slamming into yours.

“You gonna cum for me?” he breathes, his voice ragged with exertion. His hand snakes between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that push you over the edge. “Cum all over my cock.”

It’s too much. The heat of his body, the roughness of his voice, the relentless pace—it all crashes over you in a wave of ecstasy. Your body shakes violently as you fall apart beneath him, your orgasm ripping through you, leaving you breathless and trembling as you moan his name.

Daniel isn’t far behind. With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his grip on your hips bruising as he groans, spilling inside you. The sound of his release sends one last shudder of pleasure through your body, your mind blissfully blank as he slowly pulls out, leaving you empty and spent.

You collapse against the counter, your legs shaky and weak, trying to catch your breath. Daniel stands behind you, his hands still gripping your hips as he leans down, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Now, what did you need help with?”

— — —

The gym is filled with the pounding beat of Daniel’s workout playlist, the bass reverberating off the walls. It’s a fast-paced mix, perfectly matching the intensity of his solo workout. Sweat clings to his skin, muscles flexing with every movement as he powers through his sets. He’s deep in the zone, the rhythm of the music syncing with the repetition of lifting, his breath steady and controlled.

You step in quietly, drawn by the sound of the music and the sight of Daniel’s toned body moving effortlessly through his routine. You don’t acknowledge him, knowing full well he’s focused on his workout, and head to the far corner of the gym, rolling out your mat. You’re dressed in a tight workout set—shorts that hug your curves and a sports bra that offers little in the way of modesty. It’s an outfit you’ve worn many times before, but today it feels different.

You drop into a series of stretches, starting with a deep forward bend, reaching for your toes. As you move, the tight fabric of your shorts clings to your skin in a way that’s impossible to ignore. The material molds to every curve of your body, hugging your thighs and pressing against your bare pussy—because you hadn’t bothered with panties. Or rather, you weren’t allowed to. Not when Daniel made it clear that panties were unnecessary.

With every stretch, the fabric pulls tighter against your cunt, the friction sending an unintentional wave of heat through you. You shift your hips, trying to focus on loosening your muscles, but it’s hard to ignore the way the material rubs against your bare skin, each movement causing a small pulse of arousal to build inside you.

You spread your legs wider, sinking deeper into the stretch, your mind momentarily focused on the satisfying pull in your hamstrings. But as your body shifts, you’re unaware of just how exposed you are. The tight material catches between your lips, pressing into your folds so much that it feels like you’re barely wearing anything at all.

You think it’s just the lack of underwear that’s making you feel so bare, convinced the sensation is all in your head. What you don’t realize is how truly visible you are—your pussy completely framed and outlined by your shorts, the thin fabric offering almost no coverage. It clings to every detail, highlighting the shape of your folds, as if the material is struggling to keep anything hidden. It’s almost obscene, the way your cunt is on display, but you remain oblivious, stretching and moving as if you’re not practically naked.

In reality, it would be better if you were completely nude, because at least then, the exposure would be intentional.

Daniel notices. He’s been watching you from the moment you walked in, his eyes tracking every movement as you stretch. The way your muscles flex and your body moves, wrapped in that tight workout set, has his blood running hot.

Daniel watches you with a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips, eyes glued to the sight between your spread legs. He’s more than pleased—thrilled, really—that even here, outside the privacy of your home, you follow his rule without hesitation. No panties. It may be a private gym, secluded and safe, but it’s the principle that gets him going. You’re obedient, even when you don’t realize just how exposed you are.

The music blares in the background, but it’s nothing compared to the sudden surge of desire that courses through him. His workout forgotten, Daniel sets down his weights and strides toward you, his eyes never leaving the curve of your ass as you drop to all fours in another stretch. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t announce his presence; he just watches, drawn to how the material of your shorts has ridden up, caught between your legs, displaying the full shape of your cunt.

You don’t hear him approach. Too focused on the burning stretch in your muscles, you arch your back, completely unaware that Daniel is standing right behind you. That is, until you feel it—his large, warm hand cups your pussy through your shorts, pressing with deliberate, unrelenting pressure. The shock of it sends a gasp spilling from your lips, and your body freezes at the sudden, unexpected contact.

“Daniel,” you gasp, your voice barely audible over the thumping music.

He doesn’t respond with words, only action. His grip tightens as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles through the material. His other hand grips your hip, keeping you steady as his fingers play with you, nudging your swollen clit with the same practiced ease that has your breath hitching.

The sensation is maddening, the rough drag of the fabric against your sensitive skin making it impossible to think straight. Your legs part wider instinctively, inviting him to do more, to take what he wants. His fingers trace along your slit, running up and down your folds, gathering the wetness that has seeped through your shorts.

Just as you’re sure he’s going to pull your shorts down and give you what your body craves, Daniel surprises you. With a swift, rough motion, he yanks your shorts even tighter against your pussy, pulling the material harshly up between your lips. The pressure is immediate and intense, the fabric digging into your clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you that rips a moan from your throat. Your body arches into his touch, completely at his mercy.

“Look at you,” he growls softly, his voice laced with a filthy edge. “So fucking desperate, you should’ve just walked in with your pussy out, ready for me.”

His grip still firm on the waistband, keeping the material taut against your cunt, while his other hand slides down, giving your pussy a light tap, making you gasp as the sharp sting of pleasure mixes with the aching need that’s building between your legs. The second and third time he brings his fingers down, it’s directed at your clit protruding through the tightened fabric, each gentle slap sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

But just as quickly as it began, it’s over. Daniel steps back, his touch disappearing, leaving you panting, your body buzzing with unfulfilled desire. You glance over your shoulder, expecting him to continue, to fill your cunt—instead, he’s already walking back to his weights as if nothing happened.

The heat between your legs throbs, the feeling of his hands lingering long after he’s let go. You’re left hot and bothered, your pussy slick and swollen, but Daniel doesn’t seem to care. This is what he likes most about your arrangement — it’s not always about him using you to get off. No, sometimes it’s about watching you fall apart under his touch, teasing you until you’re aching for more and then forcing you to return to your mundane tasks as if nothing ever happened.

You finish your stretches, the lingering heat from Daniel’s touch burning in your skin, the wetness between your legs undeniable. Your shorts are already sticking to you, soaked from when his fingers slid over your slit. It’s hard to focus on anything else, but you need to move on, to pretend like you’re not dripping wet and aching for him to finish what he started.

Taking a deep breath, you walk over to the weights, setting yourself up for squats, your body instinctively falling into the rhythm of the workout. The bar rests heavy on your shoulders as you lower yourself, the strain of your muscles distracting you only for a moment from the throbbing between your legs.

You bite your lip, trying to concentrate, but the sensation is impossible to ignore, the fabric no longer doing anything to hide how turned on you are.

You can’t ignore Daniel’s presence, no matter how hard you try to focus on your workout. It’s like a thick, lustful cloud surrounding you, suffocating your concentration with every heavy breath he takes. Every grunt, every clink of metal as he lifts weights echoes through the gym over the music, making your core tighten with each sound. He had taken his shirt off now, sweat glistening over the hard planes of his chest, his muscles flexing with every movement.

You pretend to keep your focus, but you can feel it—the weight of his gaze burning into your skin. He’s watching you. Waiting.

You lower yourself again, your muscles quivering with the effort, but it’s not the workout that’s making your legs tremble. It’s the slick heat between your thighs, the way your soaked shorts cling to your skin, rubbing against your clit with every movement.

You feel his presence before you see him, the space between you shrinking as he steps closer. By the time you rise from your squat, Daniel is right in front of you, his eyes dark with intent. He doesn’t waste a second—his hands move instantly, cupping your tits through your sports bra as you try to finish your set. His fingers knead the sensitive flesh, thumbs brushing over your already hard nipples, making you gasp and falter under the weight of both the bar and his touch.

“You really think I’m going to let you finish this workout?” Daniel’s voice is low, husky, dripping with lust. “Not with the way you walked in here practically bare.”

Your breath hitches, legs shaking as his hands roam over your body. You try to maintain control, to focus on the bar resting on your shoulders, but the way Daniel’s fingers trace along your sides, slipping down to your waist, makes it impossible to concentrate. He’s everywhere, his touch overwhelming, possessive.

“Save your energy, baby,” he murmurs, leaning in close until his lips brush your ear. “You’re going to need it. You know I’m not stopping until you’re dripping in this fucking gym.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat surging through you, your cunt throbbing in response.

You shakily place the weight back into its spot, and as soon as your hands are free, they instinctively reach out to him, sliding over his sweat-slicked chest. The hard muscles beneath his skin flex under your palms, and you can’t help but bite your lip as you trace the lines of his abs, your mind already fogging with lust.

Daniel grabs your wrists, pulling you closer with a wicked grin, guiding you towards a workout bench. Your back meets the padded surface as he presses you down onto the bench. His hands move with purpose, pushing your thighs apart until you’re splayed open for him, your cunt visibly outlined by the damp fabric of your shorts.

Daniel’s fingers find the soaked material between your legs, pulling the fabric away from your dripping cunt, and pinching it until the wetness coats his fingertips.

His eyes darken as he looks at you. “Let’s make this easier, hmm?”

With a sudden, sharp motion, he tears the fabric right over your pussy, the sound of it ripping echoing through the gym now that his playlist had ended. The cool air hits your exposed, dripping cunt, making you shiver, but it’s Daniel’s fingers that make you gasp. He wastes no time, slipping two fingers between your folds, gathering your slickness as he drags them over your clit.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he whispers, his voice thick with lust as he circles your clit with slow, teasing strokes. His other hand slides up your body, pinching your nipple through your bra, sending a fresh wave of heat flooding your core. “You’re going to take whatever I give you, aren’t you? Right here, on this bench.”

Your body arches into his touch, legs spreading wider as you nod frantically, unable to form words. The thought of being taken right there, out in the open, dripping all over the equipment, makes your cunt throb with anticipation.

Daniel chuckles darkly, leaning down to nip at your ear as his fingers keep torturing your swollen clit. “Good girl. Now stay still, because I’m not stopping until you’re soaked in more than just sweat.”

In one fluid motion, Daniel pulls his cock out, thick and heavy in his hand, and the sight alone makes your walls clench in anticipation. He positions himself, the tip teasing the wetness between your folds, just barely brushing against your sensitive, slick skin. You’re so ready, your body practically begging for him, your pussy already pulsing with need as he slowly pushes into you. Inch by inch, he fills you through the hole in your torn shorts, stretching you in the most delicious way.

A guttural moan escapes you, your body trembling as he sinks deeper, the sensation of his cock sliding into your tight warmth overwhelming your senses. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, filling you completely, your walls hugging him snugly. For a moment, all you can feel is the way he fits so perfectly inside you, leaving you breathless and needy.

Daniel’s grip on your waist tightens, and he starts to move, his hips rolling into you with a slow but intense rhythm. Each thrust sends a shockwave of pleasure through you, driving deeper with every motion. His fingers find your swollen clit again, rubbing in circles that match the pace of his hips, the pressure building with each stroke.

You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, your moans growing desperate, your body arching off the bench as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter inside you. He holds your legs apart, his thrusts becoming more intense, more deliberate, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you. The tension builds, and you can feel it—you’re about to squirt.

He pulls out just before you lose control. He taps your soaked cunt with his cock, the sensation almost too much as he rubs your clit, coaxing the orgasm out of you.

Your body shudders violently, and you cry out as your juices gush from you, soaking his cock and thighs. He keeps rubbing your clit, pushing you to the edge of overstimulation, making you gush even more. The wetness pools beneath you, and just when you think you can’t take any more, he slides back inside you in one swift thrust.

The feeling of him filling you again, his cock sliding through your slickness, sends you spiraling. He doesn’t hold back now, each thrust harder and faster than the last. Your body trembles, on the brink of another orgasm as he pounds into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every stroke.

“Come on, cum for me,” Daniel growls, his voice strained as he drives deeper, feeling your walls flutter around him. “I wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

You can’t hold back any longer. Your body tenses, and with a broken moan, you fall over the edge, your cunt clenching tight around him as your orgasm rips through you. The pleasure is blinding, waves of heat crashing over you as your body spasms uncontrollably beneath him.

With one last deep thrust, Daniel groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he fills you, his cock pulsing as he spills into you, the heat of his cum mixing with your own. He holds you there, completely still for a moment, his cock twitching inside you as you both come down from the high.

When Daniel finally pulls out, the sensation of emptiness makes you whimper, and almost immediately, his cum begins to leak from the torn hole in your shorts. The warmth of it drips down onto the padded surface beneath you, mixing with your own slickness. Your legs are still spread wide, your body trembling, utterly spent and exposed.

Daniel stands over you, his eyes roaming over your flushed skin, your trembling thighs, and the mess between your legs. A satisfied smirk curls his lips. “Guess you’re gonna need to change,” he says, his voice low and teasing, like this is all part of some game you didn’t realize you were playing.

Still catching your breath, you blink up at him, the haze of pleasure lingering in your mind. “Shit… I didn’t bring a change of clothes,” you manage to murmur, your heart racing at the realization.

Daniel’s eyes darken with amusement, and he shrugs, completely unfazed. “No worries,” he says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “You can walk home like that, shower later.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief, your pulse quickening at the thought of leaving like this, with a torn hole in your shorts and his cum leaking out of you. “You want me to walk home with my pussy out? You ripped my shorts, Daniel. I can’t walk around like this!”

He chuckles, stepping closer, his fingers tracing the edges of the torn fabric. “You were such a good girl for me, coming here without panties, knowing damn well how easy it’d be for me to get inside you. And now? Since you forgot a change of clothes, you’re gonna have to walk home like the little slut you are, with my cum leaking out of you and that hole in your shorts.”

taglist: @thenotoriouserg @cheer-bear-go-vroom @ggaslyp1 @nominsgirl @moll1701 @mrs-saturday @teamnovalak @sassy-chan @ruti26-11 @kennysimp101 @falling-feels-like-flying @laeblue @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bountychanti @savewaterdrinkvodka @cloud-55 @aarchiives @holylovercopsludge @black-fireproofs @lazydragonpeach @biancathecool @myownwritings @rebelatbay @ethereal0810 @leclercsluvs @01rrdbull @fallingforfalll2 @lilorose25

[sacrificiallane]

FRATBOY .ᐟ LUKE ( let 'em hear )

warning ! MDNI. p in v. cussing , headlock ? , some sort of exhibitionism ? ( luke wants everyone to hear ) mean!Luke being mean to not only you. short.

notes ! this was requested. kinda. i literally have no idea about frats, my knowledge comes from fics and ... reading icebreaker. i never ever proofread, so uh

"shh... just take it, yeah just take it..." and taking it you were ! like a pro, back arched into the possibly most uncomfortable position, folded over a pillow and your pretty face pressed into another. if you were disagreeing, Luke couldn't hear. the sound of his skin slapping against your own was enough to drown out anything that wasn't your helpless babbling into the sheets. "take it."

Luke was pent-up, really ! days on end, the other frats been getting on his nerves. whether it was the mess that was their frat house ( because none of the idiots seemed capable enough to follow a rather simple cleaning plan ) or — even worse ! — nights spent unable to find sleep, because most of the newer, younger ones were screaming into their headsets rather than finding sleep themselves. yeah, Luke was just so done.

and sure, talking about it might have been an easier option. i mean, most of the boys naturally respected Luke. because of his headstrong and guiding personality. a trait he most likely gained from his shitty father...

but talking was boring ! yeah, talking certainly didn't bring across how respectless it actually was to practically force someone to listen to something they did not want nor need to hear.

and by the time his sweet, darling girlfriend came around, he all but dragged you into his room, slamming the door behind him with purpose.

and slamming inside of you with purpose, too.

"fuuuck" the warmth of your cunt was familiar enough to take some of his edge off. but certainly not all. Luke was still fuming when his hips practically forced your own flush against his, slipping impossibly deeper until he was sure his tip was hitting that little spongy part inside of you that had you make this specific little, sharp noise.

and before you could even form any protesting words ( which he knew you would have, if your brain hadn't turned to complete mush ) your boyfriend pressed into that spot again, and again. there was a purpose behind his quick thrusting, like he was trying to milk that spot for all it was worth...

one of his big beefy arms curled around your neck then, his biceps the only place to put your nails when he tugged you flush to his chest. the skin sticking together instantly... feeling hot and sticky on your flesh, and making you keen loudly in pleasure. the new angle made it impossible to wiggle away from his relentless poking at your cervix ( or at least that's how deep he felt ! )

"fuck, thas' it," your boyfriend ― normally limited to simple groans and stifled moans whenever you'd get it at his frat home ― was now giving you way more than you could ever ask him for. what was normally reserved for your dorm only ( just because the walls were a little thicker than the ones inside the frat house ) seemed pushed to the back of his wonderful mind, when Luke was giving you a variety of sounds that matched with his pace. furthermore, the fingers that would keep you quiet by being stuffed ( more like forced ! ) between your plush lips, were now coaxing even louder noises out of you too, by rubbing you silly to the rhythm of his thrusts.

he wanted this to be heard.

and only by the time he's sure that the whole house has finally ( finally !! ) quieted down, does he allow you to fall apart...

god's know he deserves a good night's sleep. ♡

[heyimkana]

guildmaster!jinwoo and secretary!reader?????? omg kana you’re feeding us THANK YOUUUU😭😭😭🫶

being his secretary means coming along with him and the ahjin guild to the international guild conferences. imagine all the high ranking hunters around the world have their attention on him—his presence practically exudes power and immeasurable amounts of mana, it’s no surprise that he immediately draws all eyes in the room. but the hunters can’t help but notice “that pretty thing” walking alongside him, their eyes inevitably straying towards you for far longer than jinwoo would like. cue possessive!guildmaster!jinwoo 🫢

OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD YES OKAY IMAGINE THIS

WC: 1,4K | Warnings: sex, swearing | Continuation from this

Let's say the international conference happened a week after they had sex for the first time.

So, they went to another country together, not getting the chance to talk much because people always surrounded him. That day when Jinwoo kissed and made love to you in his private office... As wonderful and passionate as it was, it only happened one time. He had been very busy with his schedules after that, so you had no chance to speak privately with him.

Through your eyes, with how he kept his demeanor nonchalant and reserved, you assumed he had no interest in taking the relationship to the next step. You had also been too afraid to ask him about your status since... Well, he was a national-level hunter, and you were nothing, not even a hunter. You were just a normal person—a nobody.

Surely, he wouldn't want to be in a relationship with someone like me.

You didn't know that the real reason why Jinwoo never asked you out was because he didn't wish to make you a target for having a special relationship with him. He couldn't risk it, not after what happened with Jinho. He decided it was better if your relationship with him stayed strictly business, no matter how much he wanted to hold you, take care of you, and love you the way a lover would.

You could still feel his eyes on you every now and then, and sometimes he smiled a little softer than usual when he thanked you for your assistance, as if seeing you stand so close to him but could never be entirely his melted and broke his heart at the same time. You didn't think too much of it, though. You told yourself not to.

After the conference ended, you returned to the hotel you had reserved for the night. You escorted him back to his room, helping him carry over the documents. Jinwoo had been quiet for a while, though you weren't sure why. You wondered if he was exhausted. After all, he was never fond of long meetings, and that conference took the entire day. You were worried about him, but... There was nothing you could do. You were just his secretary, never his lover.

"Take your rest, Mr. Sung," you said, maintaining your perfect formality even when it was only the two of you then. "I'm sure you're exhausted. I will be in my room next door should you need me. Good night."

You pivoted on your heels, making your way outside, but the second you stepped into the hallway, his fingers caught your wrist, yanking you back into the room. He slammed the door shut and pinned you against the door, his torso pressed flushed against your back, his fingers splayed at the front of your throat as his mouth latched hotly on your neck.

His heart was pounding, fueled by desire and frustration, while yours beat in the exhilaration of finally having his hands on you again. After enduring a day of watching other hunters leer and ogle at you, Jinwoo couldn't hold back any longer. He needed you, and he needed you then. His large hand seized your hip, pulling you even closer, his grip firm and possessive. His control slipped away, his desire for you taking over.

"M-Mr. Sung, what—"

"Don't call me that," he said, almost in a low growl. His lips found your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he spoke. "I want to hear my name on your lips. No 'Mr. Sung', no formalities."

You shivered, "J-Jinwoo..."

"Fuck." He angled your face to the side, kissing you so roughly, breathlessly, consuming enough to make your legs grow weak. He pressed you further against the wall, his bulge pressing hotly against your behind, his palm sliding underneath your blouse, tightly kneading your breast. "You don't know what you do to me, do you?"

"Jinwoo, what..." Your breathing started to tatter. "What are you doing?" You were confused. You thought he didn't want anything to do with you anymore.

His breath was hot against your ear, his voice gruff and filled with need. "What does it look like I'm doing, Sweetheart?" He placed a gentle yet passionate kiss on the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“You… I don’t know..." You chew on your lip to restrain your moans. "You seem... angry.”

"Damn right, I'm angry," he let out a low grumble, his grip on your hip tightening, nails digging into the skin. "Do you know how many men were staring at you during that conference? I could barely focus on the damn meeting."

He pushed up your skirt to your waist with one hand while the other applied pressure on the spot between your shoulder blades. You bent forward the way he commanded you to, clawing against the door as Jinwoo gripped your hip and guided your ass toward him, his zipper teasing your lingerie, his lip bitten at the sensation of his bulge grinding against your behind.

"Every time a man looked at you and smiled," he leaned forward, his teeth grazing your shoulder. "I wanted to wring his goddamn neck. You looked too fucking good, and they were all looking at you like you were some piece of meat. It took everything I had not to go over and punch someone in the face."

He meant his every word, and it sent quivers down your body. You'd never thought someone as composed as Sung Jinwoo could lose his composure like this—all because of you.

You needed him terribly, your body aching for him that you started pushing back, giving him the message for him to do as he pleased.

"Seeing them all looking at you... touching you..." He took off his belt with one hand, tossing it to the side. "God, I wanted to grab you and mark you as mine right then and there."

He pushed his pants low enough just for his hard, leaking cock to break free. "You're mine, aren't you, Angel?" He rubbed his tip against your entrance, his own breathing jagged. His hand slithered to your neck, framing your face as he took the shell of your ear between his teeth. "No one can have you but me, right?"

"Y-yes," you shut your eyes close, wanting him to be as close as possible, to be as deep as possible. "Jin, please—"

"Say that you're mine."

The dominance, the possessiveness in his tone nearly petrified you. "I'm yours—" You barely finished your line when he thrust inside, deep and hard, pushing all his length in one drive of his hips. It burned in all the right ways, your walls stretched and used, molded into his shape. You choked on your breath, your fingers clenching into fists as you tried to balance yourself.

"Again," he demanded, one hand pinning your wrist against the door while the other held you still by the hip. "Tell me who you belong to."

"Y-you—ah—" One sudden thrust made you fall forward, your body pressed flat against the door with his cock sliding in and out. He was fucking his anger and frustration into you, every pound of his hips was a testament to the control he had over you. It felt so good, so raw, so feral, and you found yourself sobbing out his name in pleasure.

"I think I've changed my mind," Jinwoo said breathlessly, one hand hooked around your thigh, lifting your leg to give him more access, to bury himself deeper inside. "I'm going to let everyone know that you're mine. I'll take the risk. I'll keep you with me at all times. I'll protect you no matter what it takes, even if it means putting my life on the line. I'll show the whole fucking world that you belong to me."

The thrill of being owned by a man who could have anything—anyone—in the universe, sent you to the edge. "Jinwoo, I'm—I'm close—"

He held you tight against him, his hips rocking erratically against yours. "Come for me, Angel." And as you let yourself go, your body weak in his arms, your mind reeling in the afterglow, Jinwoo kissed your cheek, his touch soothing compared to how he used you just a second ago.

"I'll never let you go," he whispered, embracing you close. "You're mine to protect, mine to claim, mine to possess. Don't ever forget that."

His fingers tightened around your throat, far from hurting but enough to assert his power over you. And through gritted teeth, he said—

[drunk-person]

Healing Kisses

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: After an injury on a normal day of training, Aemond Targaryen has difficulty understanding what it feels like to be cared for by his sweet wife, mainly because he is not used to receiving healing kisses.

WARNING: +18. Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and and a little bit of hot, Aemond trying to understand feelings, a bit of blood, basically a lot of softness, no description for the reader.

Word cont: 2.600 k

Author's note: Ok, I was minding my own business and this story just slipped my mind and ended up on my phone. I hope you guys like our guy trying to understand what love is hahaha 💕💕💕.

It had been about two months since Lady Y/n had gotten married, to Prince Aemond Targaryen. From the first day she saw him, she found him a disturbing man, with his silver hair, the black eye patch over one eye, the marked jaw that looked like it could cut the tips of her fragile fingers. He always seemed to be watching everything going on around him with trained eyes that she swore could see right through her.

Y/n's mother had prepared her her entire life for marriage, but not for a marriage with Aemond. Nothing was as she expected, since her husband seemed to have his own way of doing things, always silent and taciturn, just muttering from time to time, and most of the time she couldn't even decipher what he was saying, she didn't even know if he was speaking the same language as her at times.

The most unexpected thing of all, considering how reserved he normally behaved, was the fact that he liked to touch her when they were together in the martial chambers. Y/n felt her skin boiling every night with every touch he directed at her, sometimes harder, sometimes softer, but always firmly squeezing her waist, hips and breasts. Always doing things to her that Lady Y/n had not thought possible until marriage, and that just the mere thought of it made her blush and feel her skin heat up. The way he lay against her back after having poured himself inside her to the last drop and kept squeezing her breasts in a languid and soft way made her shiver.

But Y/n wasn't satisfied. She couldn't accept the fact that her Husband had such passionate touches for her at night, but didn't let her get close to him during the day, either physically or emotionally. Y/n respected him in that regard, aiming for nothing more than to be a good and obedient wife, but she wouldn't give up so easily. And with this in mind, she began to try to include herself in Aemond's daily activities and personal tastes.

Reading about the history of his ancestors, observing his favorite foods, sewing his clothes personally and even reading an old book she found in the library written by a maester who promised to teach Valyrian to even the most obtuse person. Which only made her feel even more foolish since she didn't understand a thing.

One of the best parts of trying to include herself in her husband's daily routine was watching his daily training, she usually did it in the morning after breakfast and even after a whole month watching him fight she still hadn't gotten used to the fact that he was so good, the sword seemed like an extension of his own arm and she had to restrain herself from sighing a few times while admiring him.

Until one particularly boring afternoon she decided to go down to the courtyard, since the library was very stuffy and she heard a maid saying that Aemond was fighting with Sir Criston Cole. As soon as she arrived, she leaned on the windowsill along with some other ladies, smiling as she watched her husband a little below, but the smile died on her lips a few minutes later when Aemond didn't dodge fast enough and Cole's blade wounded him in the left shoulder, drawing blood and staining the knight's sword.

Y/n's eyes widened when she saw her husband's blood and she felt her stomach churn. Aemond put his hand to his wounded shoulder and frowned, then returned to the fight furiously, disarming Cole, who apologized to the prince, but said that it wouldn't have happened if he had kept his guard up and focused.

Aemond just put away his own sword and walked with long strides into the Keep. Y/n could barely see what was in front of her, she just walked towards her husband with her eyes burning with concern.

-Husband! - She tried to reach him, but Aemond was walking too fast towards his own chambers. - Husband, please wait! Your arm is injured, you need to go see a maester!

Aemond entered the chambers, leaving the door open as he passed, as his wife followed closely behind.

-It was just a scratch, wife. - Aemond stated as she looked at him with tears in her eyes. - I'm going to be fine, it doesn't even hurt.

-Husband, if you're not going to let the maester look at this wound, at least let me take care of you! - She begged in a very worried voice, approaching him.

And with a snort, valuing his peace of mind, Aemond removed his doublet and undershirt, which had bloodstains at the site of the wound.

-By the gods, husband! - Y/n's eyes widened when she saw his shoulder. - How can you tell me this is just a scratch?

-Sit down here! - She pushed him down onto the chair with a very stern voice, and Aemond frowned - she had never used such a tone with him, always gentle and submissive to his wishes. - Don't move, I'll get hot water and an herbal ointment.

A little while later she returned with a basin full of water and a tray filled with things that a maid had brought. And Aemond watched with a very serious frown as she leaned over him with a clean, damp cloth, cleaning the coagulated blood with a very concentrated look on her face.

He barely realized that she had spoken to him, completely lost in what was happening.

- Husband? - She called him a little closer, stopping to clean the wound.

- Mmmm? - Aemond looked at her slightly confused when he finally realized that she was talking to him.

-I asked him if by chance it hurts. - She smiled, now using her usual sweet and gentle voice and Aemond didn't know why his belly warmed, but not with the excitement that had become so common in the last two months whenever he was near his wife, but with an unknown feeling.

- No. - He shook his head slowly as he answered. - I don't feel anything.

Nothing but a tingling where her warm and soft hand rested.

- Are you sure, husband? - Her look was doubtful as she frowned, Aemond just nodded and she continued her work. As soon as she finished cleaning the area, she left a few soft kisses on the wound and Aemond felt that a rope had pulled him through his navel at that moment.

-W-What are you doing? - He ended up stuttering unintentionally as he formed the sentence, feeling the skin where his wife was touching him warm as if she had touched him with a hot coal.

-Healing kisses. - She murmured simply against his heated and slightly reddened skin. - To help you heal faster.

Aemond frowned with his eyes slightly pressed together, enjoying that unfamiliar sensation in a strange way.

-And do they work? - He asked as if he suddenly had no control over his own tongue and felt very stupid for it as soon as he spoke.

-I believe so. - She smiled at him, leaving one last kiss at the end of the open wound, and Aemond felt less stupid for some reason after that.

-I'm going to apply the herbal ointment, okay? - She walked to the table, picking up one of the clay pots with a greenish, pasty mixture inside. - The maester said it should burn.

With a delicacy that Aemond had never felt in his entire life, she deposited the ointment on the open wound and gradually spread it with her fingertips, showing a look of implacable concentration on her face as if this were something of extreme importance.

Aemond hated wandering hands on him, hated receiving treatment from the maesters with their rough and hard touches, but with his wife it was different, the touches were so sweet and gentle that they were making him drowsy. And when she left more kisses after finishing applying the green ointment he thought that his mind had left his body and gone to another dimension.

-Mmmm.

-I hurt you? - She sounded very worried as she brought her right hand to the side of his face.

-Not at all. - He practically sighed, laying his head against her hand, and Y/n felt her heart warm when she had that reaction of familiarity from him.

-You need to take a bath, husband. - She stroked his cheek with her thumb, enjoying the moment where she was allowed to, smiling sweetly at him. - And after that I move on to another herb that the maester sent.

Aemond agreed, just nodding positively, feeling his whole body as if it were pleasantly numb as he walked towards the bathtub full of warm water on the other side of the rooms. And making him feel even lighter Y/n untied the front of his pants, blushing slightly as she helped him get completely undressed.

With a sideways smile at seeing his wife's reaction to his nudity, Aemond entered the bathtub, murmuring in satisfaction with the temperature of the water.

Y/n, her face still warm, knelt at the foot of the bathtub and gently massaged his uninjured shoulder, leaving sweet kisses there.

-This shoulder is not hurt. - Aemond spoke to her in a soft voice for the first time, making her smile against his damp skin.

-It must be at least sore from the effort. - She murmured very close to his neck, making him smile even though she couldn't see it.

-Join me, wife. - He turned his head back, watching her with a calm gaze.

And with a shy and very happy smile, Y/n removed her own clothes under the watchful eye of Aemond, who sighed when she was completely naked and embarrassed in front of him. The prince always found it sweet how she had not yet lost her shyness when being naked in front of him in these two months of marriage.

Y/n entered the bathtub and before she could sit on the other end of the bathtub he pulled her to sit on his thighs, leaving his wife very close to him, making her sigh.

-Are you sure it doesn't hurt at all, husband? - She gently ran her fingertips over the injured area.

-Mmmm. - He shook his head. - But I could use more kisses.

And with butterflies in her stomach Y/n did so, leaving sweet and moist kisses around her husband's shoulder who just laid his head back in contentment.

-You know if I had an injury like that I would be in a lot of pain. - She looked at him from under her eyelashes. - You are so strong husband.

Aemond had never felt so imposing in his entire life as when he heard his wife saying in that sweet and soft voice how strong he was, while looking at him from under her eyelashes sitting naked on his cock.

-I haven’t felt so much pain since I lost my eye. - Aemond didn't know where that had come from, he felt so relaxed at that moment that the words just flowed through his tongue with ease in a strange way. - It seems that I have become a little insensitive to slight pain.

Y/n gently ran her hand over his face where the eye patch was still firmly in place even during the bath. And after taking a deep breath fearing rejection after a day with so many advances she asked.

-Can I see husband?

Aemond automatically looked away, staring at his wife's breasts while his hands firmly locked on her waist.

-You don't want to see that, wife. - He muttered through his teeth. - It's not pleasant to look at.

-I think everything about you is pleasing to the eye, husband. - She tried to encourage him by stroking the scarred cheek below the eye patch, but still feeling afraid that he would push her away from him. - I would appreciate it very much if you let me see all of you.

And even fearful of his wife's reaction, taken by that strange and unfamiliar feeling in the midst of that moment of softness, Aemond removed the eye patch and dropped it on the floor next to the bathtub without looking her in the eyes.

Aemond's stomach turned as much as it had flown for the first time on Vhagar when he felt his wife's soft lips placing a gentle kiss against the deformed skin where his eye had once been.

-Gavy. (Gevie -Beautiful) - Her voice sounded like a very poor attempt at High Valyrian and Aemond's eyebrows arched.

-Where did you learn that?

-I read it in a book in the library. - She lowered her eyes in embarrassment. - Was the pronunciation bad?

-It was perfect. - He murmured with his eyes closed, lost in those sensations as he felt her sweet kisses against his face.

And with redoubled affection Y/n washed the herbs from Aemond's body and with a smile noticed that the redness had divided quite a bit, as well as the bleeding.

-After the bath I need to apply another ointment to you according to the maester, husband. - She smiled completely happy with her husband's moment of confidence. - To help it heal, he said.

-Mmm. - Aemond would let her do anything about him, as long as he could feel the softness of his wife's touch and her care and concern directed at him.

And with a sigh he trailed kisses down her soft neck, drawing low sighs and gasps from those gentle lips.

-I want you to be the one to take care of me from now on, wife. - He continued kissing her, and with a smile of pure contentment Y/n nodded positively to her husband.

-It is a pleasure for me to take care of you, husband. - She sighed at him in joy, making Aemond's heart accelerate in a strange way that made him want to vomit. He didn't understand what it was, it wasn't desire, something he was very familiar with as he desired his wife constantly, yes he was hard against her wet intimacy, but there was more.

There was something strange consuming him inside without explanation and he felt that even if he took her at that moment he wouldn't be close enough to her. And as he slid into her warm and receptive intimacy, he could feel his wife's arms hugging him tightly and pulling him closer and closer to her while she left kisses on his shoulders and face, making him lose himself inside her, feeling more and more of that sensation as strong as the pleasure of spilling his own seed inside his wife.

And letting himself be carried away by that moment, Aemond kissed her sweetly on the lips, almost a soft caress, while he felt her entangle her hands in his hair, caressing it in a way so gentle that it didn't seem intended for sex, but rather for something more delicate that the prince couldn't say the name.

-Skoros issi ao naejot issa? (What are you doing to me?) - He muttered between sighs, and Y/n had no idea what he had said, but chose to think it was something good.

All those unknown emotions, feelings and sensations were too much for Aemond, tearing from him an unparalleled pleasure that he had never felt in his entire life, and he poured himself deep inside his wife while hugging her tightly to his chest with a poignant need to feel her as close to him as possible.

And when Y/n came in his arms soon after, looking into his eyes without a hint of repulsion for his missing eye, but rather kissing him again while admiring him with pure devotion, Aemond knew. His wife's healing kisses might not help his wounded skin heal any faster, nor would they even bring back the eye that had been ripped out, but perhaps little by little they could help him heal much deeper wounds.

[emisluvr]

imagine giving jake head while he goes live 😋

omgomg he would be such a flustered n whiny mess ughh 😓 i did the same prompt for heeseung but i feel like jake would react sm different..

✧ tw. smut (18+ mdni!), oral sex, live setting

jake really thought he’d be able to keep it together.

he was being cute. tucked into his desk chair, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, hair all fluffy and cheeks glowing under the soft dorm lighting. the chat was flying with comments—fans losing it over his bare face as he shows off the album he’s unboxing. and he was doing good. giggling, answering questions, showing off his photocard pulls like nothing was wrong.

except you were under the desk with your hands in his lap and your mouth already wrapped around the head of his cock.

"o-oh, uh… this one’s–" he stutters mid-sentence, jaw going tight as your tongue flicks across his slit. "one of my– my favorites, yeah.." his voice dips and wavers, already breathy, eyes darting nervously as he reads a few comments that make his ears turn even redder.

he swallows hard, lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile, trying not to moan. "you guys are too much," he says through a weak little laugh, barely able to hide how his voice trembles. he shifts in his seat, like that’ll help, but it just lets you take him deeper. his hand drops under the desk like he’s pretending to fix something, but it just lands in your hair, fingers immediately gripping tight like he needs you to slow down before he loses it on camera.

"you're... you're so mean," he whispers down to you through clenched teeth, the tiniest whimper tucked into his voice. "fuck—n-not now, please baby, m’live.."

you hum around him in response, dragging your tongue slow and wet along the underside of his cock, and he twitches hard, hips jerking just a little.

he tries to laugh it off, tries to act normal even as his knuckles go white gripping the desk. "s-sorry guys," he coughs, licking his lips. "my throat’s kinda dry, haha.."

his eyes are glossy, lips parted and shiny, face flushed all the way down to his neck. he’s a mess. slipping up more and more, repeating himself, losing his train of thought mid-sentence and giggling nervously to cover it.

finally, he leans forward a bit, breath hitching as your hand strokes what your mouth can’t reach. "g-gimme a sec, i gotta– i’ll be right back.."

he clicks off the live so fast it’s almost suspicious, and the second it ends, his head tips back against the chair with a wrecked groan.

"fuck, fuck–" he whines, hips grinding up into your mouth on instinct. "you’re evil.."

but he doesn’t stop you. he just spreads his legs wider and begs for more.

© emisluvr 2025. all rights reserved.

[ssahotchnerr]

Mom!friend reader bringing everyone cute lunches at the bau with personalized little notes for each person 😭 maybe hotch doesn’t even know that you do this for the others too so when someone mentions readers cooking, he’s like “wat”

personalized

ADORABLE cw; bau!fem!reader, established relationship, mentions of food, fluff and aaron being cute <3

the pace at which aaron was moving must've been more intense than he intended and realized; as he hurried past jj's desk, the small draft that followed caused a small piece of paper to flutter to the ground.

uttering an apology, aaron immediately reached down to pick it up. however it had landed face up, and his eyebrows furrowed in small confusion as he caught a glimpse of its contents.

your familiar handwriting kept his eyes, instead of peering away as he normally would - 'my sweet jj! thank you so much for your help on the arizona case file, you're a total lifesaver and your expertise is always appreciated, hope you know that. enjoy <3 ps - your new lavender sweater is the cutest. must plan a shopping day w/ pen soon!'

aaron's eyebrows stayed in that confused line, his eyes shifting up to jj's in a silent question.

"came with the cookies." jj answered for him, pointing her head towards the tupperware container perched on her desktop.

instantly aaron's mind made the connection - so that's why you were up late baking. that made more sense; the time you had spent baking was much too long for the small plateful quantity he had found reserved for him and jack this morning.

"pretty girl sure knows how to cook." derek added into the conversation as he approached the cluster of desks, raising his hand to pat aaron on the back but stopped himself halfway - aaron shot him a pointed look, hiding his own amusement, while jj attempted to conceal her smile with her palm.

another eyebrow furrow. "and when have you had her cooking?"

"here and there. always comes with a note too. i could just about fill a desk drawer with how many i have." derek admitted, with his signature, vivid grin. "she may be yours, we get special treatment too, y'know."

a bit later, you strolled into aaron's office, juggling numerous files in your hands.

"as requested," you started, dropping them firmly onto aaron's desk. "five action reports, minus dave's. he told me when you're as experienced and italian as he is, you can slack off and kinda get away with it. but i think that's his fancy way of admitting he's old." you joked with a eye roll.

"thank you," aaron flashed you a smile, sorting through his current papers. assuming that was all, you spun on your heel to head out and return to the everlasting joy of paperwork, but, aaron's voice stopped you.

"hey hold it, c'mere a sec."

you pulled back one of the chairs in front of hiss desk, the legs producing a scraping noise against the floorboards, but aaron gestured for you to come around. your eyes darted in the direction of his open blinds, then back at him. 'you sure?'

aaron nodded in confirmation. and if you needed any more convincing, once in reach you were pulled onto his lap, his hold on you tight.

if he wasn't being a stickler on the open affection, neither were you; you relaxed yourself against him just as you would normally, your body melting into his and throwing your arms loosely around his neck. "what's up?"

"i didn't know you wrote the team notes."

"oh," you laughed softly, with a light shake of your head. by habit your fingers ran along the skin of aaron's neck, scratching the nape of his hair gently. "yeah, if i bring in lunch or a treat or something. or both. or sometimes just because. an appreciation reminder."

aaron nodded, his fingers drumming against your hip comfortably.

"that's not a problem, is it?"

"well," aaron pretended to think, his hand changing motions and sliding up and down your side, "yes."

"actually?" you blurted as your own fingers paused. that wasn't the answer you expected, and it caused a rush of nervous heat to pool within you. until, you saw the feigned, solemn expression on his face.

aaron peered down at you, his playful eyes canceling out the forced pout on his lips. under his breath, he mumbled humorously, "i thought i was the only one getting notes."

you laughed brightly, the joy within the sound immediately bringing a smile to aaron's lips. "oh don't worry, they don't get the lipstick smooch on theirs. that's reserved for you and you only."

"i would hope not."

"or the, occasional... explicitness."

"again, i would hope not." aaron laughed again. his lips graced your temple, lingering gently as he spoke, "you're sweet."

"a very wise, very attractive person once said, 'people need to know they're important'." your lips quirked into a loving smile, a glint in your eyes. "thought this would be an easy way - i learned from the best."

[mashtatosworld]

on and off stage

summary: you're seunghyun's dance partner, but not by chance

The first time Seunghyun saw you - really saw you - you were standing at the edge of the rehearsal room, balancing a water bottle against your hip, eyes scanning the chaos as dancers and staff moved in a flurry around you.

You were new, but you didn’t have that nervous energy most fresh hires carried. You were grounded. Focused. And, in Seunghyun’s eyes, effortlessly beautiful.

The crush hit him fast and hard, and it was immediately inconvenient.

He didn’t do crushes.

Not like this.

Not the kind that made his ears heat up when you so much as adjusted your hair, or the kind that made him stutter when you asked him a perfectly normal question about stage placements. He was too old for this. Too cool, supposedly.

And yet, there he was, subtly slouching during partner assignments, hoping to hell they’d match you to his height instead of Daesung.

It worked.

He almost felt guilty about it, until you turned and gave him that polite, slightly shy smile - and all he could think was mine.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

But it was awkward at first.

Not because you were difficult - far from it. You were professional and respectful, especially after the others warned you in hushed whispers that Seunghyun didn’t like to be touched.

“He’s a bit... reserved,” Taeyang had said, choosing his words carefully.

“You’ll be fine,” Daesung had reassured you. “Just don’t, like, hug him.”

So you kept your hands light, your touches fleeting, and Seunghyun was equally distant. His hands hovered rather than held. His fingers brushed instead of rested.

It was formal. Stiff. And it threatened your job.

Because the choreographers noticed.

They wanted passion. Intimacy. Chemistry. And you couldn’t exactly tell them, Sorry, my partner seems allergic to prolonged contact.

So you resolved to talk to him. To clear the air.

But fate - and the boys’ relentless prank war - had other plans.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You’d been heading toward Seunghyun’s dressing room when, the moment you opened the door, you were hit square in the face with a spray of cold water.

For a second, you stood frozen, droplets running down your cheeks, hair sticking to your forehead, and all you could hear was Seunghyun’s horrified gasp.

“Oh fuck.” His voice was low with panic, the water gun slipping from his fingers. “I'm sorry... I- I thought you were Jiyong! I swear!”

You wiped your face with your sleeve, sputtering out a laugh before you could stop yourself. Seunghyun blinked, stunned, watching your shoulders shake with amusement.

“I suppose Jiyong is pretty enough to take that as a compliment,” you teased, eyes bright despite the water still dripping from your chin.

The relief that flooded his expression was immediate - and then, unexpectedly, he laughed too. Deep, warm, real laughter that curled in his chest and filled the room.

"Mm, but I definitely think you have him beat," he admitted, passing you a towel.

The air between you shifted, tension dissolving in the echo of your shared laughter.

After that, everything was easier.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You started teasing him during rehearsals, lighthearted jabs about his “terrible aim” and “intimidating water combat skills.” He gave as good as he got, poking fun at your tendency to count steps under your breath and how you scrunched your nose when you were concentrating too hard.

But beyond the jokes, you also noticed something else - how careful he was with you.

How respectful.

How he never held you longer than necessary, and how his touch always felt like it was asking permission, even in the middle of choreography.

“You know,” you said one afternoon, after the room had cleared, “it’s okay to touch me. During the dance, I mean.”

Seunghyun’s gaze snapped to yours, his ears tinged pink. “I- I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You wouldn’t,” you assured him, your smile soft. “I trust you.”

The words hit him harder than they should have, sinking into his chest like something precious.

And from then on, everything changed.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The closeness came more naturally. His hand settled more firmly at your waist, guiding rather than hovering. When you leaned into him during spins, his arm held you just a little longer, his touch steady.

The choreography started to feel less like work and more like a conversation - one spoken in quiet glances, soft smiles, and fingertips against skin.

The choreographer noticed, too. “Finally,” they said with relief after one particularly fluid run-through. “Now you two look like you want each other.”

Seunghyun nearly tripped over his own feet.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You'd performed together enough times that everything should’ve gone smoothly. But somehow, thanks to a typo or crossed wire, you were reassigned - to Daesung.

You were halfway across the stage, heading toward your new partner, when a firm hand caught your wrist.

Seunghyun.

He didn’t say a word. Just held your wrist, his grip strong and sure, and pulled you gently back toward him as the first chorus of Bae Bae begun.

The movement was seamless - almost like part of the act - and the other dancer quickly pivoted, falling into place with Daesung instead.

But the moment wasn’t lost on the crowd.

The fans saw the hesitation, the instinctive way Seunghyun reached for you - and they saw the way his hand settled possessively at your waist, fingers curving into the silk of your costume.

They screamed.

And they kept screaming as Seunghyun, emboldened by adrenaline and something even deeper, danced with you like never before.

When his solo verse arrived, instead of stepping away to the centre of the stage, he stayed close - circling you, rapping with that low, magnetic growl while his fingertips skimmed the bare skin at your hip. It wasn’t choreographed. It wasn’t planned.

But it felt right.

You could barely breathe, heart slamming against your ribs, skin burning beneath his touch. By the time the song ended, you were dizzy - whether from exertion or the way Seunghyun was still looking at you, you couldn’t tell.

And one you were backstage the teasing started immediately.

“Ohhh, so that’s how it is,” Daesung smirked, arms crossed. "I wondered why I was dancing alone for the first part."

“Our hyung was really feeling the song,” Jiyong added with a grin.

“Look at him!” Taeyang pointed dramatically. “He’s blushing more than she is.”

Seunghyun tried to deflect, but his flaming ears gave him away instantly.

You were too stunned to speak - but when Seunghyun finally caught your eye, the small, shy smile tugging at his mouth was the only thing you cared about.

The teasing could wait.

Because if tonight had proved anything, it was that you were his partner.

On and off the stage.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

the woman was too stunned to speak 🧍‍♀️

as requested! sorry it's taken me so long, writing for GD comes more naturally but Top has a special place in my heart <3

i actually already had plans to do this concept with GD but i saw this request and thought it was too good not to at least do for seunghyun as well as GD hehehehe

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure

[reidsism]

➳ DON’T WORRY — S.R

to nav 𓇙 to s.r mlist

spencer reid x fem!reader

in which spencer is having a tough time, and penelope garcia decides to take matters into her own hands, by sending him on a blind date

wc: 3.3k

warnings: none, just wine! all fluff and awkwardness and a shy blind date that’s not really a date but definitely feels like one (also my overabundance of italics)

a/n: my first spencer fic omg hi!!! pls go easy on me, i haven’t written in like three years and im still only on s9 of cm :,) also not beta’d lol

Spencer’s in a slump. He can’t deny it, even with the forced smiles and the constant “I’m fine”s to the team, day after day.

He knows the lack of sleep has manifested itself in his appearance—his undereyes are so dark he looks like he’s been punched, his hair is more unruly than usual, his clothes are rumpled. He’s even been having trouble focusing.  Stumbling over his words. Mixing up numbers when he rambles, which isn’t even all that often anymore.

He knows the team’s been concerned, too.

Hotch has been glancing at him more during briefings and keeping an eye on him when on cases.

Frankly, Spencer’s getting a bit annoyed by it all.

And then, when he’s staring through the report on his desk, Penelope strolls into the bullpen like a woman on a mission, planting herself next to him, her hands on her hips with a wide grin.

Spencer sighs. “Garcia—”

She interrupts him. “I have a proposal for you.” She’s not hiding her excitement well; her legs are jumpy, her heels stuttering in place on the linoleum where she stands, and she’s even slightly shaking, positively vibrating with eagerness. Spencer holds in a groan. “I feel like the Good Doctor needs a bit of a pick-me-up. So, I’ve done what I do, and made some calls, and oh,” she grins impossibly wider. “Long story short, you have a date!”

Spencer blanches. “What…?”

Garcia just nods. “I set up a reservation for you two at Gianni’s—it’s this totally adorable little Italian place, you’ll love it.”

He can’t quite make out the rest of her rambling. He feels like his hearing is going again, like his headaches have come back full-force. He coughs, successfully ending Garcia’s rant. She just looks at him, a flicker of worry crossing her bright features before she sighs, taking a seat on the corner of his desk. She sets a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Spencer, you can’t lie to me, like, at all. I know you,” she wiggles his shoulder with a cheeky grin. “You’re, well… you’re struggling. We can see it, and, hey,” she leans down to smile softly, more reassuring. “You don’t need to treat it like a date if you don’t want to. I just know someone who I think you’ll click with, and I think it’ll be fun. Y’know, to let loose for a bit? Eat some good food, drink some good wine, have a fun, not death-slash-kidnapping-slash-totally-terrible-things-based conversation? I mean, honestly, Reid, when’s the last time you had a normal conversation with someone outside of us?”

And, well… that makes Spencer pause. He thinks—really, genuinely thinks. About two weeks and four days ago, he made a call to a semi-local bookstore to see if they had a first-edition copy of The Outsider by HP Lovecraft in stock. (They didn’t.)

Since then, cases have taken up most of his time. He mostly spends his days working on cases at the BAU or reviewing the files at home.

Garcia knows she has him beat when Spencer hangs his head. She grins and claps her hands like she’s won a prize. “Yay! So, head home before it’s dark out, yeah? I’ll text you the details! It’ll be fun, don’t even worry about it!” She grins before heading back to her office down the hall, and Spencer sighs, putting his head onto his desk.

***

Spencer stands outside of the restaurant for, probably, longer than socially acceptable. He really would’ve rather not come, but then he started feeling guilty. He didn’t want to hurt Garcia’s feelings by refusing her, and he didn’t want to potentially hurt whoever she had set up to meet him by standing them up, even if he had no idea who they were.

The sign over the door says Gianni’s in blinking red neon, and he thinks the establishment seems… painfully fine, from his view into the windows. It’s not overly fancy, not exactly the vibe of a romantic first date. He mentally thanks Garcia for that.

He wrings his hands one final time before pulling open the glass door and stepping inside.

The hostess smiles brightly at him. “Hi! Welcome to Gianni’s,” she glances around him for a moment. “Party of one?” The smile turns to pity.

Spencer purses his lips in a tiny smile. “Uh, no. I have a reservation actually, under, uh…” he blinks. “Under Garcia?”

God, this is awkward. Spencer nibbles on his lower lip, glancing around the room as the hostess takes a look at the book beside the register. She nods. “Of course, sir. Right this way,” she grins, leading him to the back of the dining room, to a small table nestled in the corner right beside a huge window, the lights of the city nightlife shining through the glass.

He takes a seat with a small smile. The hostess says she’ll have someone over to take care of him shortly, and Spencer just nods before looking outside. It’s started to rain slowly tonight, small round droplets pattering the concrete sidewalk. He follows the lines they leave on the glass like a lure.

When the waitress comes over, she simply introduces herself—Sasha. She says she’ll come back once he’s settled, before leaving two laminated menus on the table and, strangely, taking the wine menu with her.

Spencer starts skimming over the menu, lower lip locked between his teeth. He worries the corner of the laminate between his fingers. Why is he so nervous? It’s not like this is a real date, after all, Garcia even told him it would just be something casual for him to get his mind off of work for a while. But he can’t help the strange stuttering in his chest when he thinks about it, meeting someone he doesn’t know for dinner. It’s not that he’s worried, no, he trusts Garcia. Even if her methods are, well, blunt, he knows that she knows him well enough not to drop a bomb on his lap in the form of a conversation partner.

He’s lost staring through the laminated cover of the menu when he hears footsteps nearing his little alcove in the corner. He glances up, and, well. Is it dramatic to say his breath catches? He’ll deny it if—or rather, when—Garcia asks.

You’re standing with a slightly nervous smile, the remnants of small raindrops clinging to your hair, with wet streaks shining on your skin. You wave shyly at him. “Hi, uh, are you Spencer?”

Spencer’s standing before you can even finish speaking, the chair scraping against the hardwood. He cringes. “Yeah- yes. Hi,” he smiles. 

You extend your hand to shake before pulling it away quickly. He frowns. “Penelope mentioned you don’t really do handshakes,” you chuckle. “Can I sit?” You point at the chair across from him. Spencer nods, sitting back down in his seat, watching as you shed your coat and hang it on the back of the chair, before taking a seat across from him. You smile at him, introducing yourself. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long? I didn’t expect the rain to hit when it did, and I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh; just the barest exhale from his nose. “Uh, no, don’t worry. I just got here. And I didn’t bring an umbrella either, so,” he grins back at you. “Don’t worry.”

“You said that twice,” you grin, all teeth. Spencer can feel the warmth flush his neck. “Don’t worry,” you echo. “Maybe the rain’ll let up by the time we leave.” You pick up the other menu, so casual, and Spencer watches you like a creature he’s never seen before.

His phone buzzes from its place on the table. You don’t look up from your menu, but Spencer can see a faint smirk on your face with a hint of mischief or mirth in your eyes. He scrambles to look at the screen, only to be met with a text from Garcia.

PG: Is she there yet? Call her pretty! And don’t forget to smile! You’ll be fine, Einstein <3

Spencer sighs, turning his phone off and tucking it into his messenger bag, hanging off the back of his seat. He murmurs a small apology, and you simply shake your head before lowering the menu. “Was it Pen?” At his guilty look, you grin and shake your head. “She was badgering me, too. Don’t worry.”

Spencer can't hold back his tiny smile. “We’re saying that a lot.” You just laugh. Any tension that might’ve lingered over the evening seems to dissipate into thin air.

It doesn’t take long for the waitress, Sasha, to return to the table, this time carrying a bucket filled with ice and a bottle of wine sticking out of the top.  Spencer’s eyes widen comically, and you can only laugh as Sasha sets the bucket down. “A 2003 Pinot Gris,” she explains as she takes the bottle out and begins to fill both your glasses.

“I- I didn’t order any wine,” Spencer says, a strange, pathetic tinge to his voice as he helplessly watches his glass get filled. He hopes it’s not too expensive.

Sasha shakes her head. “It was requested when the reservation was made. Miss Garcia said she had your bill covered tonight.” She places the open bottle back into the bucket, the ice shifting around it. “So don’t worry. I’ll be back in a moment to take your orders,” she winks before stalking off.

You both stare at each other for a breath. The silence is broken with your contagious laughter, picking up your glass and raising it for a toast. “Well then. To Pen!”

Spencer grins, slowly raising his glass to gently clink it against yours. “To Garcia.”

Conversation flows naturally, more easily than Spencer had expected. Even when he went on an unintentional ramble about how fettuccine alfredo isn't really Italian, and how the word “pesto” literally means “to crush”, and how Pinot Gris is a French wine, not Italian like Pinot Grigio, even though they’re basically the same thing, and how a wine like this tends to pair well with pasta because of its dry, acidic profile that can cut through thick, creamy sauces.

When Spencer cut himself off to take a full, proper breath, he freezes. You have the sweetest smile on your face, your head resting on your hand like you’re really listening, like you’re actually interested in his long, unnecessary rambling. He takes a gulp of his wine and cringes. God, he hates wine.

When the food gets to the table, you grin at him. “I thought fettuccine alfredo wasn’t really Italian?” It’s a tease, yes, but Spencer doesn’t hear a trace of malice in your voice.

He shrugs, twirling some onto his fork. “I mean, it was technically invented in Rome, but it’s not the same. This version of fettuccine alfredo is an Americanized recreation from 1920s Hollywood,” he says, taking a bite. “Still, that doesn’t mean it’s not good.”

You chuckle, taking a bite of your own food. You grin at each other across the table like teenagers with a secret. It’s nice. Comfortable.

“So,” you start, pouring the last bit of wine, splitting the amount between your glass and his. “Aside from your impressive knowledge of the wine menu, what do you do when you’re not reading about Italian cuisine?”

Spencer shrugs, setting his fork down. “I, uh, I read. A lot.”

You smile. “Yeah, you seem like a reader. Anything that’s not like, work or Italian food-related, though? I’m sure you have hobbies outside of… well, the obvious.”

He nods. “I guess. I’m kind of a nerd about a lot of things, honestly. Not that that’s a hobby,” Spencer clarifies, his shoulders relaxing at your chuckle. “I’m really into old, out-of-print books. You know, the ones that—”

“The ones that cost a small fortune and have that weird, dusty smell?” You cut in, simpering. Your eyes crinkle. Spencer finds it painfully sweet.

He smiles. “Exactly,” he exhales a laugh before taking a sip of his wine. “I like to collect them. It’s kind of… calming, I guess.”

“That’s really cool,” you grin. “Y’know, I used to be super into photography when I was younger. Like, just… taking random pictures of random things.”

Spencer tilts his head. “Really? Like a hobby, or—?”

“No, no,” you laugh. “Just random moments. Sometimes the best things happen when you’re not looking, y’know?” And if there’s a part of Spencer’s heart that flutters in understanding, that whispers “you, you, you,” like an echo in his chest? Well, that’s between him and his internal organs. “Anyway, I haven’t even touched a camera in years.” 

“Why not?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Life got busy, and now it just feels kind of silly to start again. I do kind of miss it, though, I guess. The idea of capturing something, like… pure. Unfiltered? That’s still pretty appealing.”

Spencer smiles softly. “Don’t worry,” and oh, there’s a warmth in his gut that has nothing to do with the wine. “You still have time.”

“You think so?” There’s a far-off, wistful look of something not unlike hope that swims in your eyes.

He nods, and Spencer wonders if it’s too early to consider buying you a gift.

By the time you’re done, you’ve shared a small plate of tiramisu between you both. The rain outside the window hasn’t let up; if anything, it looks like it’s only coming down harder now. You and Spencer are still mindlessly chatting as you stand, and he helps you put your coat on. You look back at him and smile like a fool.

You walk outside the restaurant, and Spencer stops at the hostess’ station at the front, slipping a fifty to Sasha, and smiling softly as she balks.

The rain is pouring. You groan, “I took the metro here,” you say, raising your voice over the sounds of fat droplets hitting the sidewalk.

Spencer nods, tugging his coat tighter around himself. “Me too,” he glances towards the street. “We can get a cab?”

You nod, watching as he rushes into the rain, out from the cover of the awning, to wave down one of the yellow cars driving past. He beckons you over as one slows to a stop at the side of the road.

You follow Spencer, sliding into the backseat behind him and sitting beside him as the driver turns. “Where to?”

Spencer clears his throat. “Uh, two stops, if that’s alright?” The driver simply nods, and you tell him your address, a faint nervous tremble in your voice.

The ride to your apartment is almost silent, save for quiet murmuring from the backseat. Like you two can’t help the conversation, like you can’t bear not talking to each other for even five minutes.

When the cab pulls up to your apartment complex, you grin at Spencer, about to speak, when he climbs out of the car behind you. He mutters to the driver that he’ll only take a minute. “What’re you doing?” you ask, looking up at him in confusion.

Spencer shrugs, leading you to the doorway to the building. “I wouldn’t be a very good date if I left you to walk to your door alone.” He says it so simply, so easily, it almost shakes him. He can’t believe how nervous he was, not that long ago, refusing to even think of this dinner as anything more than a way to get his mind off work.

You grin widely up at him, letting yourself inside and holding the door open for him. “I suppose you’re right,” you lead him to the elevator. “You wouldn’t be a very good date. But I wouldn’t hold it against you,” you tease, pressing the button for your floor—eight. Spencer tucks that information away. “Don’t worry.”

You wink, and Spencer can’t hold back his soft laughter. He’s quiet on the elevator ride, too busy just looking at you. You’ve managed to shatter every one of his expectations and preconceived notions in no more than a couple of hours. It’s strange, but welcome. You’re welcome, now. Always.

When the elevator opens, and you lead the way to your apartment door, you turn around to face him fully. “Thank you,” you smile softly, looking up at him. “I had a really good evening, Spencer. Thanks for not running off.”

He purses his lips, smiling back at you. “I had a really good evening, too.” His hands start to wring again. “And, I wouldn’t have run off. Don’t worry.”

You chuckle, a glint in your eyes. “Well, still. Thanks. For the company, tonight. And the conversation. And all of the new facts I’ve just learned about Italian cuisine.”

Spencer blushes. He shrugs, his hands moving to clutch at the strap of his messenger bag. “Glad to provide newfound knowledge, then,” he chuckles.

And before he can overthink it or second-guess himself, Spencer bends slightly, pressing a soft, feather-light kiss to your cheek. Your eyes go wide for just a moment before warmth floods your cheeks, and a grin that surpasses even sunshine itself takes over your face. You inhale shakily and unlock your door. You keep your eyes on Spencer as you step inside. “Thanks again,” you breathe. “I’ll um, I’ll text you?”

Spencer nods before beginning to walk backwards toward the elevator. He wishes you a good night and watches you slowly close your door.

He doesn’t step onto the elevator until he hears your door lock, and then he’s rushing back outside, into the pouring monsoon, before throwing himself into the backseat of the taxi.

The driver just laughs at him, at his cheeks all blotchy and red. Spencer clears his throat and awkwardly gives him his address.

He’s inside his apartment and toeing off his shoes when he realizes he never got your number.

Spencer freezes. He yanks his phone out of his bag with all the decorum of a deer in the road, and notices the abundance of missed texts from Garcia.

PG: How’s dinner going?? Is it awkward??? Did you say anything weird yet????

PG: Guess things are going well!! Don’t worry about the bill, it’s on me!!

PG: And DON'T COMPLAIN ABOUT THE WINE!!!!!!!

PG: Oh I’m SO excited to see your face tomorrow, Reid! I told you this was a good idea!

PG: Here’s her number, in case you were too stunned and totally in love with her to ask for it ;)

Spencer sighs, grateful for the inclusion of your number that saves him the awkward embarrassment of asking for it. He can’t keep the smile off his face as he adds it to his contacts, and types out a quick message. He sends it before he can talk himself out of it, and leaves his phone on the couch as he heads into his room to change.

Spencer: Hi, this is Spencer. Have a good night, and thanks again for dinner! It was really enjoyable. Hope you don’t mind me getting your number from Garcia, I only just noticed we hadn’t exchanged contact info :)

If Garcia ever asked, Spencer would deny it, but he runs out of his bedroom with his shirt still in his hand when he hears his phone buzz on the couch.

You: hey spencer! you have a good night too, dinner was super fun. you’re a fun conversationalist. and if you hadn’t gotten my number from pen, i would’ve asked her for yours, so don’t worry :)

He grins down at his phone before turning it off and pulling his shirt on. He brushes his teeth with a smile on his lips, crawls into bed with his face sore and his cheeks cramping, and begins to fall asleep to the sound of heavy rain pattering on his window.

It’s not until he’s curled up between the sheets, half asleep, that he realizes he hasn’t thought about work or cases all night.

Well then. Thank you, Penelope Garcia.

[miserableworm]

Aphrodisiac!

★ sypnosis - giving him an aphrodisiac wasn't your best idea...

★ tags - childe x fem!reader, alhaitham x fem!reader, wriothesley x fem!reader, smut (mdni), aphrodisiac, established relationship, oral receiving, mentions of overstimulation, handcuffs, rough sex

CHILDE

Despite being under the influence of an aphrodisiac that would normally drive him to pleasure himself, something about you made him want nothing more than to please you instead.

"God you drive me insane..."

Your legs were spread wide open before him, invitingly wet and ready for his touch. He could feel your heat radiating off your body as he gazed at your dripping pussy; it was almost too much for him to bear!

But instead of diving right in like any normal man might do under these circumstances, When held back... teasingly soaking up every drop of moisture with his tongue while watching you squirm beneath him helplessly.

"Stop teasing me.." you whined

His hot breath fanned across your sensitive skin - enough to make it tingle but not quite enough stimulation yet... His hands gripped tightly onto your thighs as if locking them down so that no one else could come between them during this intimate moment shared only by the two of you...

And then finally – after what felt like an eternity – those delicious lips parted once more and plunged deep into the heart-shaped depths below…

"You taste so fucking good.."

It didn't take long before you had your first orgasm. "Aw my pretty baby is already cumming?"

"Oh but we're not done yet... you can take it, right?" He purred huskily against wet flesh before diving back in again without waiting for an answer.

He's completely pussy drunk.

ALHAITHAM

As Alhaitham's normally stoic demeanor began to slip away under the influence of an aphrodisiac, he found himself unable to resist your advances. Your every touch sent shivers down his spine and ignited a fire within him that he couldn't control.

You were like a siren calling to him, drawing him closer with each passing moment. He could feel the heat emanating from your body as you pressed yourself against him – it was intoxicating!

"Need you so bad..."

Despite his initial hesitation, Alhaitham gave in to his desires and took you roughly against the wall behind you... His hands gripped tightly onto your hips while he thrust deep inside of you over and over again... His breathing became labored as sweat dripped down both of your bodies.

"w-wait.. slow down.. I can't.. ah!"

"One more," he panted between kisses along your neckline before plunging deeper still into the depths below... "I know you can take more.." With each word spoken by this usually reserved man came another thrust from his hips - faster now than ever before.

You and Alhaitham were fully aware that 'one more' is just a lie...

WRIOTHESLEY

Wriothesley was a man of few words, but when he spoke, it was with an air of command that left no room for argument. As the aphrodisiac took hold and his normally stoic demeanor began to slip away, so too did any semblance of restraint.

He grabbed you roughly by the wrists and pulled you closer - handcuffs clinking softly as they secured your hands behind your back. His lips crashed down onto yours in a fierce kiss that left no doubt as to who was in charge here tonight...

His hands roamed freely over every inch of exposed skin while his hips ground against yours – teasingly close yet never quite connecting fully until finally... With one powerful thrust forward, Wriothesley buried himself deep inside of you

"you feel me in you?" he pressed down onto the bulge on your stomach. "t-too much ngh.."

"isn't this what you wanted? no turning back now. You're mine tonight," Wriothesley growled into your ear as he roughly pulled you closer by the wrists. "And I'm going to make sure you remember it."

His rough hands gripped tightly onto your hips as he pounded into you without mercy or hesitation...

[jiminomenon]

assistant! reader gets jealous

pairing: model! karina x assistant! female reader

word count: 893

tag(s): winrina lore revealed, y/n gets jealous, rina being confused abt the entire thing, giselle’s a snitch, the first time y/n gets jealous

from my series: the devil wears prada

y/n should not be upset. she knew that.

jimin had friends. jimin had history. that was just the kind of person she was—someone who attracted attention effortlessly, someone who had people wrapped around her finger, past and present. y/n knew all this. she had always known it.

but somehow, none of that made it easier to watch minjeong lean in close, whispering something in jimin’s ear that made the supermodel laugh, the sound soft and sweet in a way that was reserved for people she actually liked.

y/n hadn’t thought much of minjeong at first. she knew she was one of jimin’s closest friends, another model who had built a name for herself in the industry. they had worked together plenty of times, and from what y/n had seen, they got along very well.

but that was all she had thought—until she overheard aeri teasing jimin about her past with minjeong, and suddenly everything made sense.

“still can’t believe you two never made it official,” aeri had said, laughing as she clinked her wine glass against jimin’s.

“please,” jimin scoffed, lips curling into a smirk. “it was fun, but minjeong and i both knew what it was. no hard feelings.”

“none at all,” minjeong had added, grinning. “but it was a good time, wasn’t it?”

y/n had gripped her drink a little too tightly then.

and now, as she watched them from across the room, she was gripping her tablet in the same way, her fingers tightening every time minjeong so much as brushed against jimin’s arm.

she should not be upset.

but she was.

y/n’s mood did not improve by the time they got back to jimin’s penthouse.

she knew she was being ridiculous, knew that her cold silence was both immature and completely unnecessary, but she could not bring herself to act normal. she hadn’t spoken a word since they left the event, and she had no plans to start now.

but, of course, jimin had other plans.

“okay, what is your problem?”

y/n didn’t even look up from her tablet. “i don’t have a problem.”

jimin let out a sharp laugh, placing her hands on her hips. “oh, so you’ve just suddenly decided to stop talking to me for no reason?”

“mhm.”

jimin narrowed her eyes. “y/n.”

silence.

“y/n.”

still nothing.

“you’re seriously acting like a child right now.”

y/n finally exhaled, closing her tablet with a thud. “i just don’t have anything to say to you.”

“oh, please,” jimin scoffed. “you always have something to say. so what is it?”

y/n crossed her arms, leaning back against the couch. “it’s nothing.”

jimin stared at her, expression unreadable, before something flickered in her eyes. “wait.” she smirked, slow and knowing. “you’re jealous.”

y/n’s jaw clenched. “i’m not jealous.”

“you’re totally jealous,” jimin said, grinning like she had just won something.

“i—” y/n inhaled sharply, forcing herself to stay calm. “i just think it’s interesting how you didn’t tell me that you and minjeong used to—” she gestured vaguely, ”—do whatever you did.”

jimin rolled her eyes. “because it wasn’t important.”

“wasn’t it?” y/n shot back, tilting her head. “you two sure looked important to each other tonight.”

jimin groaned, running a hand through her hair. “oh my god, y/n.”

“what?” y/n challenged.

“we’re just friends,” jimin stressed. “it was never serious. it’s not like we were in love or something. it was just fun.”

“oh, so i’m supposed to be okay with watching you flirt with your ex-fling all night?”

“i wasn’t flirting,” jimin defended.

“right,” y/n deadpanned.

jimin exhaled sharply, her patience clearly wearing thin. “you are being so—” she cut herself off, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “you’re mad over nothing.”

y/n scoffed, shaking her head. “whatever. it doesn’t matter.”

“it does matter,” jimin argued. “because you’re mad, and i don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”

y/n faltered at that, lips pressing together.

jimin sighed, stepping closer. “for the record,” she said, voice softer now, “minjeong and i are just friends. i don’t care about her like that anymore.”

y/n looked up at her, hesitant. “you sure act close.”

jimin raised a brow. “and? you and i are closer.”

y/n swallowed, warmth creeping up her neck. “yeah?”

“yeah.” jimin flicked her forehead lightly. “obviously. you’re the one i keep around, aren’t you?”

y/n rubbed her forehead with a pout. “that hurt.”

“you’ll live.”

a beat of silence passed between them before jimin shifted on her feet, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable. “listen, i…” she exhaled sharply, clearly struggling with her next words. “i guess i should have told you about minjeong before tonight. i didn’t think it mattered, but…” she hesitated before finally sighing. “i’m sorry, okay?”

y/n blinked. “that’s… not really an apology.”

jimin scowled. “ugh, fine. i’m sorry for not telling you and for talking to minjeong in a way that made you upset. there. happy?”

y/n studied her for a moment before a slow smirk curled her lips. “that was painful for you, wasn’t it?”

jimin scoffed, flipping her hair dramatically. “whatever. are you coming or not?”

y/n chuckled, finally following after her. “yeah, yeah. lead the way, supermodel.”

“you’re never letting this go, are you?”

“nope.”

[rhiannonsknife]

thinking about lottie and ‘guess’ by charlie xcx & billie but specifically billie’s part… like lottie knowing exactly what panties we’re wearing because of our tiny little skirt and it’s one of the pairs she bought for us on her trip to tokyo with her parents… hehehe

- 🦕

— you wanna guess the color of my underwear?

in my lottie blurb era, apparently??? 🤗

lottie’s backyard is a blur of blasting music, red solo cups, and the faint reek of cheap beer. you’ve barely stepped in through the front door when she finds you. her hand brushes your waist, practically claiming you before anyone else even has the chance to look your way.

“cute skirt,” she says, a knowing edge to her voice that makes you pause in your tracks. that sound is normally reserved for when it’s just you and lottie, preferably behind closed doors and not the hallway of her packed house.

you glance up at her, your pulse already picking up speed. lottie’s eyes are locked on you, dragging slowly down your body until they stop at the hem of your skirt. you don’t need her to say it to know what she’s thinking. what she’s looking for. you shift slightly on your feet, suddenly hyper-aware of just how short the skirt really is.

“lottie,” you murmur, glancing around the room. you can’t let her get to you; not here, in the middle of her crowded house.

she doesn’t let up. “what?” lottie asks. “you look good!”

her hand drifts lower, skimming your hip now, her fingers curling just slightly into the fabric. it’s not enough to draw attention from anyone else, but it is enough for you to feel it. enough to remind you that she doesn’t need to say a word to have you wrapped around her finger.

then she leans in, close enough that her breath is warm against your ear. “you’re wearing the ones from tokyo, aren’t you?”

your stomach flips violently, heat rushing straight to your face. sometimes you hate how easily lottie gets under your skin, how quickly she can unravel you without even trying.

“i-“ you start, but she cuts you off with a soft laugh.

“the black ones with the lace trim,” her breath tickles your ear, making you tense. “i bought them for you, remember?”

you glance around the room desperately, hoping no one is close enough to catch the conversation that’s currently making your knees weak. lottie doesn’t care. she never does.

her fingers press into your hip, enough to ground you, enough to remind you that she has you exactly where she wants you. then, lottie tilts her head, her lips brushing against your cheek this time as she murmurs, “you wore them for me, didn’t you?”

your throat goes dry. you should say something, maybe even deny it, but the way her voice dips lower with every word makes it impossible to think straight.

“lottie…” you hiss, her name trembling on your lips.

lottie just smiles, pulling back so she can meet your gaze. “you don’t have to say anything,” her thumb brushes under the waistband of your skirt, a fleeting, teasing touch that sends a jolt of arousal straight through you. “i already know…”

then she’s gone, pulling her hand back and stepping away like nothing even happened.

lottie doesn’t look back as she disappears into the crowd, leaving you standing there with flushed cheeks and a wet patch in your panties. they are the one from tokyo. and you wore them just for her.

[jaebeomsbitch]

The Princess and Eggplant (E.M.)

Summary: Your boyfriend happens to be a foot taller than you...or Eddie is afraid to stick it all the way in, afraid to hurt you

Warnings: Minors DNI, size kink, pure smut

Pairings: Boyfriend!Eddie x Girlfriend!Reader

A/N: watching Sex and the City and couldn’t stop thinking about the size difference between Carrie and Aidan. As a 5'1 they/them I'm drooling. Literally finished this a while ago but couldn't find a good gif, I'm gonna start making my own banners

Like Eddie holding you up, your thighs wrapped around his waist, his big hands on your ass. His tongue in your mouth as he kisses you more and more aggressively until you can’t breath and your head is spinning. The way he manhandles you, impaling his thick cock inside you as he grits his teeth trying to control himself from being too rough. But his cock only fits half way and you’re clinging onto his shoulders moaning like a ghost in a haunted house.

You heave for air as his cock knocks the wind out of you. He lays you out on the bed, your hair fanning out as he yanks you to the edge of the bed.

“Fuck sweetheart” he groans looking at the way his cock disappears inside of you. His neck straining as he holds himself back.

“More Eddie, fuck give me more” you gasp, your nails digging into his back.

“S-shit baby, don’t wanna hurt you” he grunts, slowly pulling out and back halfway in. As he refuses to go deeper, his eyes already rolling back as your tight velvet walls grip onto him.

“Please Eddie” you whine, pressing the heels of your feet into his ass forcing him deeper into you. Your jaw slacks as you’re stretched open by your boyfriend.

“S-shit s-so fucking big” you moan pressing your chest into his.

“F-fuck you’re gonna kill me” he groans voice higher pitched then normal. He hisses, teeth clenched tightly as he tries to remain still. However you don’t give him the chance, you dig your feet deeper into his pale ass. Pushing him inch by inch slowly into you until his hips are flush with your ass.

Eddie knows that he needs to be the one to slow down, but it's hard when you feel this good - especially when you're moaning like that. He hasn’t even moved and yet you’re already cock drunk. You’re drooling and moaning incoherently as Eddie’s cock fits like a puzzle piece inside you, nice and deep.your pussy struggles to accommodate the stretch. Your walls pulse around him almost like it’s trying to push Eddie out. 

His arms shake as he shallowly thrusts into you, little grunts leaving his lips. 

“Fuck Princess, so fucking tight” he whines. 

“S-shit it’s like you’re fucking choking my cock” he grunts out, looking at the slight bulge in your lower stomach every time he slides back in. The sight is enough to make him cum right then and there. 

“F-fuck fuck fuck ohhhh fuck” you moan underneath him trying to grind into him but his grip on your hips tightens. You know he’s gonna leave bruises on you but you fucking love it. Love that he’s practically whimpering “princess” under his breath like a broken record, like he needs to burn the feeling and imagine in his head. 

“More, Eddie please-” you whine, your pussy pulsing around him desperately trying to drag him back in. He shakes his head vehemently, his jaw tight as he grinds his teeth. No girl could ever take his full cock before and much less someone so petite. 

“So fucking perfect Princess. Your pussy’s taking me so fucking good. Fucking stretching out to fit my cock baby” he grunts out starting to lose his reserve. His hips move slightly faster as he feels the burn deep in his gut. 

“Made f’you Eds” you nod, eyebrows pinched together as he pulls the rubber band tighter. You flex your stomach trying to keep it together. Your moans getting louder as his his resolve starts to slack more and more. 

It isn’t long until he’s snapping his hips into yours looking like a man possessed. He’s fucking feral, hair wild, pupils blown out, neck flexed. His whole body is tense as he pounds into you fast and hard completely breaking you down. 

You’re more than cock drunk at this point. Babbling gibberish, writhing under him, pulling at the sheets, your eyes closed shut as you’re in your own little world taking Eddie’s thick cock. 

“Jesus fucking Christ” Eddie moans at the sight of you. Most girls would’ve cried in pain, he always needed at least an hour of stretching and foreplay to get half way in and yet here you are taking it.

“M’gonna cum!” You cry, stomach flexing harder, your muscles tightening almost painfully. 

“Fuck- cum on my cock, Princess,” he pants, his balls slapping into your ass, hand pressing into your stomach feeling the bulge of his cock.

“Ohh fuck- fuck- fuckkk fuckkk” you all but scream as you let go. You tremble under Eddie’s body, face contorted, jaw slacked, drool dripping down your chin. It’s like you’re high and drunk at the same time. 

“That’s it Princess milk my fucking cock. Taking me so well, begging for my fucking cum” he grunts. His eyes rolling back as he clenched his jaw and comes hard. Thick white ropes paint your velvet walls already dripping down to your ass. Your pussy too small to accommodate both his cock and cum. 

“Shit” he heaves, slowly pulling out not trying to hurt you further. 

“I’m not gonna be able to walk am I?” You groan as he nuzzles into your neck. 

He chuckles,”probably not.”

“You’re the worst” you mumble lightly nipping his bottom lip. 

“Not what you were yelling two seconds ago” he murmurs against your lips. That’s dimpled grin on his face as he presses for a kiss and another and another.