#Moto Stack | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 29 days ago

Text

Route 666

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC

Summary: it’s the year 1984 and Star goes to a roadside bar off of Devil’s Highway that a friend of hers invited her to. What Star doesn’t know is that someone is waiting for her beyond the velvet drapes.

Warnings: SMUT. Lots of pussy licking. 18+ CONTENT. Mentions of blood.

Part two.

Stack.

This brother has an aura Star craved. Mysterious and very charismatic. They sort of glided through the throng of dancers as if walking on water. Stack stroked Star’s hand with his thumb soothingly. The sensation calmed her nerves and unsteady breathing.

Star didn’t know if it was the liquor that had her feeling dazed or if she was under his hypnosis, but she let him take her hand while she followed through the door of Vaisseau. After grabbing her things from coat check, they were outside now, the evening air sweeping her hair every which way.

Stack’s footsteps stopped in front of a motorcycle with a seat embroidered with sparkling rhinestones or…diamonds? And an iron cross emblem. He released her hand briefly to swing onto his bike. Stack reached out a hand for Star to climb up. He revved the bike to life with his other. Star made sure to take her time as she threw her thick thigh up and over until her crotch—panties non existent, fish nets creating a sensation over her clit—onto the raised portion of the seat.

Her arms circled Stack’s waist and she interlocked her fingers tightly together. Star pressed her right cheek against the leather material of his vest. Tough, rebellious, or even primal. Durable and strong. The pearl snap earrings over her earlobes revealed themselves as her hair moved in the direction of the wind. The sweat against the sepia flesh of her back dried, leaving behind a sticky surface. The scent of Christian Dior Hypnotic Poison with its sensual and captivating vanilla lingered against every inch of her skin, exuding a brazen, conquering spirit.

The deafening roar of his motorcycle outside of Vaisseau made him appear like a feral beast waiting to break free of his chains and start racing. There was nothing more exciting than riding on the back of his motorcycle to the limit and feeling at one with the machine. It was agile, moving onto the highway with ease. The wind burned her eyes, so she shut them, resting her chin against his back. The dewy fragrance of the air tickled her nose.

Going to a motel was the same as choosing junk food or casual sex, you realised it was gonna be seriously underwhelming but it was cheap and available. It felt different with Stack. Nothing about him screamed underwhelming. More like exhilarating. They arrived outside of a motel lit with a greenish hue. It was two levels and eerily quiet.

Stack pulled into a spot with big numbers painted in red against the concrete. 109.

He got off first, helping Star down and grabbing a hold of her hand again. He pocketed his motorcycle keys before digging for the ones to open his motel door. Star glanced around. She spotted an older gentleman, probably of Hispanic descent, smoking a cigarette against a truck. Soft music from a radio to her left and the sound of a soap opera through an opened window to her right.

The room was clean, the bedding was fresh, for a motel around here that's actually pretty good. Stack flicked on a light, bathing the room in a low, warm glow. He tossed his moto vest against a nearby arm chair and his room keys on a side table next to an alarm clock that read: 1:52 am. Stack made sure to shut the curtains and close the blinds up nice and tight. Star eyed the peeling wallpaper, the single king sized bed, and a mirror situated on a wall behind the bed.

Star sat her cheetah printed hand bag on the other end table before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Her eyes flicked around nervously, watching Stack take off his boots. The leather pants he wore sat lower on his hips, revealing a sharp v–cut and a happy trail. Star unzipped her boots and pulled them off, flexing her toes.

He stood firm in front of her, Star looking up at him through her lashes. Stack extended a hand agonizingly slow, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Star exhaled a shaky breath.

“Do you trust me?”

Star wanted to say she barely knew him, but for some reason, she felt so safe with him.

“I trust you. Unless you give me a reason why I shouldn’t.”

Stack smiled as the golden ambience of the motel room surrounded him. The sound of the TV with its static and lack of frequency didn’t stop the sound of Star’s heavy breaths and loud pulse reverberating her ear drums. Stack tugged, bringing Star to her feet. He took slow steps backward, turning her so she could see herself in the mirror.

“You’re so beautiful. Skin so soft. Curves just right.”

Star smiled bashfully.

“What if I told ya’ I wanna make ya’ minds forever?”

Star circled her tongue against the inside of her cheek to fight the urge to smile.

“I’d say I’ve heard it all before. What makes you any different, huh?”

“I’m definitely nothin’ like the men before me. Believe ‘dat. You’ll know soon enough.”

Star traced circles against his hand that pressed against her middle, “Mhm…well, I’m here now…”

Star reached up to stroke the back of his head.

“…Ya’ like to be bitten?”

Star pondered, “Uh…never have before…depends on how hard you trying to bite me.”

“How about spanked?”

Star grinned, “Oh, yeah. I love that type of shit.”

“Mm…aight…how ‘bout spit? Like that?”

Star could feel Stack’s dick jump against her backside.

“Love it. You should know…”

A knowing smile deepened his dimples, “That’s right…how could I forget, my apologies, gorgeous.”

Stack lightly nibbled on Star’s neck, causing her to giggle.

“You have a mouth to break up a home over,” Star said with a laugh.

“I got sum’ else too…”

“I know,” Star licked her lips, “You’re blessed.”

Stack circled his hips against her ass.

“You get so excited…I like it,” Star spoke with a whimper.

Stack turned Star around with a growl. He pressed his body on Star’s so she couldn’t escape him. His skillful hands slicked up her arms and gripped her tight. Not too much pressure, but enough to show her who’s boss. Star’s mind didn’t have to wonder what kind of freakiness went down with Stack. The mere thought made her clit throb in anticipation of it all.

Stack leaned in closer to her before Star let him take her into a passionate kiss with his soft, probing tongue.

His warm, wet tongue curled around hers expertly, stealing her breath and even her soul. The kiss wasn’t like any kiss she’d ever gotten. It was much more than a quick peck or a rushed one. He took his time. Learned the taste of tequila on her tongue. The way her soft, glossy brown lips moved around his. The sounds she made. Their heads rocked from side to side, Star falling deeper into the kiss.

Her entire body screamed for this man. He didn’t care how many dicks been in her mouth. How many pussies she licked He didn’t care that she made money off of sex with men and women alike. He didn’t care about the stigma of being with a porn star. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Big bulge and all. Star missed this. The anticipation of being with a man that had what Stack had.

Star dragged her hand down to cup his erection. Stack brought one heavy hand down over her ass with a sharp whack before grabbing a handful. He tilted his head without even being told so and Star took that as he liked his ear licked and nibbled on. She did just that. Meanwhile, Stack’s eyes glowed and his mouth began to drool. He sucked in his bottom lip to capture it all before it landed on Star’s shoulder.

Star moved her kisses to his exposed neck. A ghostly hiss whizzed around her. She palmed his dick tighter, nails digging into the leather of his pants. His deep groans sounded monstrous in a way. That left an impression on Star. This was a primal man indeed. And she made him weak. He’s definitely her biggest fan.

“You taste so good,” Stack whispered against her lips.

It was his turn now. Both of his hands were in her hair before he gently moved her head to the side so he could kiss her neck. Star closed her eyes, feeling him sucking her hungrily. As if he had performed magic, they seemed to glide across the carpet to the arm chair. Stack held an arm against her lower back to stop her from falling. His mouth left her neck, leaving behind an ache. He sat down and spread his thighs deliciously while his arms rested on the chair.

“Autograph,” Star heaved with a laugh, “Where do you want it?”

Stack, eyes dragging over her, went to undo his pants.

Star dropped her lustful gaze to his fingers working to reveal what she’d been dying to see since he pressed it between her ass like a hotdog to a bun.

He thumbed the leather past his thighs, revealing tight, coarse pubic hair and then that thing popped out like a snake in the grass. What white people called a Mandingo with its racial slur that Star despised in porn, she just saw a beautiful black man with a big joystick she’d love to play with. This wasn’t fetish. This was art. Black beauty. And she felt right at home.

An all American whopper. Eight–inch’s of fun. All the dick she could handle. Extra-long shaft that naturally flexes to fit inner curves for deeper penetration. Great for the G-Spot or prostate. Perfectly-shaped tip, textured skin with veins, and a weighty pair of balls.

Star dropped to her knees a little too hard.

She tugged on his pants, removing them completely.

Stack grabbed a remote that was wedged between the cushion of the chair and pressed a button as he aimed it towards the TV.

Loud moans and erotic music played. Star turned her head to see what was happening. Visuals of herself giving a solo performance was right before her. Goosebumps covered both of her arms. She was splayed out on a leather chair with her legs draped over the arms while her left fingers circled her clit beyond a patch of hair. She could even see her own natural lubrication dripping like honey from a glass.

“Stack…”

“I take ya’ everywhere with me. I’ve spent so many days dreaming of what it would feel like to have ya’ all to myself…”

Star faced him again, staring up at him from her kneeled position between his legs. Star’s eyes burned with passion when she spotted drool like no other spilling over his bottom lip. This man was so hungry for her. To the point that he was visibly salivating? Without even tasting her everywhere yet?

Stack whispered sweetly, “I’m the unspoken passion women secretly desire. You wonder about the mystery behind my eyes, don’t you?”

Did he just read her mind?

“Yes,” Star whispered back.

Stack didn’t make a move to wipe his chin.

“I’m sex, uptight and poised. The lover you dream of…”

Star shuddered underneath his gaze. Enthralled by every word that came from his thick lips. Every inch of her skin crawled as she moved her hands all over his body. Smooth, unblemished, dark skin looked as if it had been kissed by the ideal amount of sun provided by the Mississippi Delta. His chiseled chest, ripped abs, and defined, burly arms had her mouth watering lustfully.

“Stack…”

“Yes?”

“I want to suck your dick.” Star stated with assertiveness, feeling her inner thighs and stockings beginning to soak.

Stack placed his index finger over her lips, “Shhh…not another word…”

For some reason, she couldn’t utter another word. It was like he had taken her voice from her. She couldn’t make sense of the way she was feeling as her breathing intensified. Her clit throbbed harder, causing her to rock back and forth.

Removing the halter to her dress, Star allowed it to pool around her waist, revealing pendulous breasts and thick, brown nipples. Her skin was painted with sweat, no circulating air in that motel room. Star quivered as she took him into her hand again, weighing the heaviness in her palm.

“Suck it. Take what you want, baby.”

Star reached for him but Stack snatched his dick back.

“Suck it all the way down too, understand?”

Star did just that.

She kissed the tip. Made love to it with her glossy brown lips, moans equaling those from the TV. She let go of his shaft, no need to keep it in place. It was hard enough to stand straight up like a stick in the mud. Star gathered saliva on her tongue and slathered it all over Stack’s ample package, slurping afterwards to savor his taste. Stack watched her, eyes following the movement of her tongue and closing briefly whenever she let her lips have a moment.

“Can’t believe you suckin’ on my dick, Star…”

The tremble in his voice. She gave his balls some love too, staring up at him beyond that girth like she was peaking around a corner. Stack’s mouth dropped open, teasing her with some tongue.

Star popped her lips off his sack and suctioned her lips along the underside of his dick until her lips were flesh around his tip. She slithered her mouth down with a tight jaw until he was seated at the back of her throat. That delicious curve molded perfectly with her mouth. Star began sucking. Stack smoothed her hair out of the way and held it back so he could watch her better.

“Gahdamn…this how you do it?”

Star hummed.

“You a motherfuckin’ pro. No wonder I love you so much.”

Star blinked up at him with a dick drunk look.

“You love sucking big dick?”

She nodded her head, continuing her blow job.

“Pop your lips off and tell me how much you love sucking big dick.” Stack demanded with a gruff tone.

Star did as she was told, like he was the puppeteer.

She did it nice and slow and lingered on the tip before releasing him. Stack’s nostrils flared as a deep and resonant, “Mmm,” billowed from his lips.

Star jerked with the help of spit, “I love sucking your big dick, Stack…it’s so big…and fat…more than what I’m used to when I fuck for the camera…” Star said with a practiced pitch in her voice that drove men crazy.

“Bet that pussy hole ain’t used to what I got. I know I’m right…”

Star damn near came.

She shook her head, “Not even close. I don’t remember what it feels like to be filled up with all this,” Star slapped him against her palm, “I need a reminder.”

“Put your mouth back on me first.”

Star sank back down on his dick. Stack shut his eyes and his tongue glided over sharp fangs. The lethal incisors were poking him in his bottom lip. Stack’s eyes, glowing brightly, watched her eat his dick up. He was close.

“You ready for this nut?”

Star responded with more enthusiastic sucking. She rolled her neck and pulled out all her nasty tricks. Spit on it. Flicked it with her tongue. Kissed his tip. Sat him in the back of throat. Slurped on his balls. Stack’s hips levitated from the chair and a strong fist in her hair kept her still.

Heavy breathing and sucking sounds with an occasional slap from his balls on her chin.

He was throat fucking her. Star felt hot tears roll down her face. She gripped his thighs.

“Mhm…mhm…keep yo’ ass still!”

Her nose pressed against his crotch almost suffocating her.

Hot jizz made its way down her throat, feeding her lust for him. Stack let her go and Star’s mouth popped off his dick.

A dick that still was as hard as it was before she sucked it.

Star went to wipe her mouth but Stack grabbed her by the neck, leaned forward, and thrust his tongue in her mouth. Star could taste his saliva. It mingled with hers.

“Your mouth felt like I was digging for gold…”

He kissed her.

“So good…”

Stack released Star’s neck. He helped her to her feet and took it upon himself to remove the rest of her dress. Star shimmied her hips, full nudity he’d only ever seen on screen finally revealed to him.

Stack was patient. Not rushed like she was used to.

He twirled her around, taking in every inch of her from the follicles of her head to the polish on her toes. When she stopped in front of him again, Stack allowed his hands to explore. He first glided his fingertips along her collarbone before they found its way to her breasts.

“Everything about ya’…so succulent.”

Stack fought the urge to extend his fangs.

What he wouldn’t give to sample her blood for the first time. With over fifty years of experience, he plans to. He’d been waiting to get his hands on Star Vixen. And she came to him so easily. Now here she was, standing in front of him dripping in sweat and smelling tasty. The aroma of her sex burned his nose in the best way.

The fans in Vaisseau blew her scent around, and Stack had to make a move fast to stake his claim. He could sense the pressure from surrounding beasts of the night, ready to fight for her. Stack would put up a fight. Star was his. His to feed from. His to fuck. She would be his for however long he planned to stay in Arizona before there was another calling.

The life of a Vampire required you to stick to the shadows. Stack did just that, feeding off of the blood of humans. Sweet, rich, and even addictive. The taste grew more intense the more he fed. He didn’t take too kindly to it at first, but each person has their own unique taste. He just knew Star tasted like syrup. He couldn’t wait to drench his goatee with it.

Stack’s lips found her nipples and he just knew they tingled once his tongue roamed.

And they did just that for Star.

“I’m gonna have my way wit’ ya’ tonight,” Stack uttered before flicking his tongue back and forth.

Each nipple. Equal attention.

His thick fingers reached between her legs and played with her clit through her fishnets. His fingers played around with her clit, slipping through her crevasses, finding her soft wet spot, fingering her slowly. He could tell from the look on her face she’d never been fingered like this before. Stack explored, changing the pace and rhythm of his fingers, playing around in her pussy.

Star clawed his shoulders.

“Bring one foot up…”

Star obeyed his command.

She was spread better for him. Perfect.

He was knuckle deep, fingers swimming in her pussy.

“I’m just tryna see what I got to work wit’…”

Star whimpered. Just leaking all over his fingers.

“Star…ya’ hear that?”

She stilled herself to get a good listen. Lips sealed.

Squelch squelch squelch

“like I’m diving in the ocean…so fuckin’ wet…”

Stack attempted to add a third finger but Star clenched up and hopped off his fingers.

He brought his hand up between them and Star watched with a dazed look at him rubbing his fingertips together. He sniffed his fingers first before sucking her mess off. Star stood still, eyes blazed, pussy missing his fingers. Those shining eyes held firm with her brown eyes and Stack dropped to his knees.

Get on your knees and arch your back

Star found herself getting into position on the edge of the bed. She did what she was told, arching over the bed, ass sitting high and open, fishnets imprinted in her flesh and revealing a hairy pussy.

“Have you ever had your ass properly worshipped?”

He took his fingers hooked them in her fishnets, and ripped them open with force. Star gasped.

Stack stared at the proud, thick, curves before him, the luscious mocha color of Star’s booty straining as she opened up, revealing both holes. Her ass was the perfect reward for him. That pussy he longed to eat for hours and hours. Stack kneeled down behind her, drooling all over himself to taste and touch and take of her rich, beautiful body.

Stack pinched the tender underside of one cheek, then the other, pulling them apart to see everything in between, a moan escaping his lips as he saw up close just how wet and creamy she is. There’s nothing like a woman’s ass spread out before you, waiting to be taken, to humble a man. Stack simply held her there in his hands, letting his thumbs rest along the edges of her lips, pacing himself before diving in for a delicious treat, one that already had his dick hard, strong, and ready.

You like that, daddy? You like the way I stroke my pussy?

You wanna taste it, don’t you? You want to eat me up like an ice cream sundae?

I’m all yours to devour…I want you to eat every inch of this wet pussy…don’t miss a drop…

Star on the TV was speaking the words for Star in person.

There was so much to taste and touch, Stack didn’t know where to start. The musky scent of her pussy perfume wafted through the air, smelling of sweat, and sweet decedents. Ass hovering in his face like this Stack could shoot a load all over the carpet right there. He couldn’t resist giving each cheek a solid slap, the sound echoing in the room as the sting reverberated in his palm so good.

Have you ever had this ass worshipped?

“No,” came her muffled reply as he spread her open and let his tongue explore her sweet curves.

Stack pressed against her twin globes, giving himself room to taste her sensitive flesh, the pucker writhing beneath him as he buried himself between her cheeks.

Stack curled his tongue into a point and dove right in while his fingers moved closer to her sex, stroking the wetness, what he found there just steadily dripping. He speared her asshole like a famished man. It was just him and her panting and grunting and her voice from the TV and the sound of Stack’s thick tongue and lips.

He dipped that greedy vampiric tongue into and out that ass, his drool acting as lubricant. He worshipped that ass like he’d never get another chance, tongue savoring her. That tongue wiggled down and he drilled it into her pussy. Stack filled her up as best he could, plunging in and out to the beat of her own rocking hips.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Stack heard her cry, a little louder than before as he pressed three fingers deep into her tight tunnel. Stack feasted on Star’s bottom again, those strikingly soft clappers against his cheeks. Sticky syrup coated his fingers. Her walls quivered. Her as whole clenched whenever he dragged his tongue over it.

You’re doing such a good job, daddy!

Eat me! Savor me! Take it!

Make me cum on your long tongue! Your sweet lips!

“Stack, oh my fucking goodness!”

His thumb flicked her bean in a downward motion from her position. He then rubbed it back and forth with his thumb. His tongue sat flat against her labia and he stroked up and down with it, drool coating her folds and adding towards a slippery ride. She twitched and writhed the more slickness appeared.

“Daddy, you’re drooling! So much all over me! It’s running down my stomach!”

Stack curled his arms around her legs and sucked on her clit with a tight grip. Star gathered the sheets into her fists and cried into the bed with nowhere to escape.

He made her cum. So hard.

Star could have fainted from how powerful that orgasm was.

And he wasn’t done.

Stack pulled his tongue out and kissed his way down to her ankles and feet. He got to his feet and positioned her himself for round two.

“Stack, you don’t need a break?” Star asked weakly.

His dick was iron clad and she couldn’t believe it.

He dragged her ass over the edge of the bed and got down on his knees again.

“I ain’t taking no break.” He mouthed. Stack smirked up at her, “You my meal until I’m through, understand?”

Star knew not to speak another word. Not when those eyes were sharp on her and gleaming like a monster.

Stack pulled her lips apart and finished where he started.

Star twitched in his mouth, pussy still sensitive.

“Thought I was gon’ get just one taste?”

Star’s eyes crossed when Stack’s full lips slurped up her clit and moved his head back and forth. She went to push him off and Stack locked her wrists.

“Uh–UHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

Stack flicked his tongue and it sounded like he was lapping at water in a bowl. She flowed. Poured all over his damn tongue. He worked hard for it. Stack drank as much as he could down. Next to the taste of blood, pussy juice was the best thing. His tip buzzed with desire.

“You got my pussy cumming again!”

Star gripped his hair tight. Her thighs bounced and shook. Stack was not getting off her pussy.

And her thriving was pissing him off.

“Ouch!”

Star felt a sharp prick on her inner thigh. Sharp enough to make her listen. She felt all the blood in her veins rush to that one particular place. It perked her nipples and made her clit a stiff bud. Stack licked away at the spot he nibbled on before kissing his way back to her pussy.

“Don’t move again,” Stack opened her lips, “Look what following directions get you..clit nice a fat for me how I like it.”

Stack flicked his tongue over it. Star moved her hips up and down, following the way his tongue would go up and down speedily.

“What I say?”

She didn’t have time to respond. Stack pushed her knees so far back she was folded. He went back to toying with her clit. Star clawed his arms, crying out in overstimulation.

“STACK!”

She felt his lips do its job and he sucked away to his dead hearts desire. She extended her neck and whispered “This your pussy, this your pussy…”

He finally came up for air. His whole face glistened with pussy juices down to his chest. Star, bathed in sweat, locked eyes with him.

She couldn’t began to describe how soaked she is.

Pubic hairs slick with spit and cum.

Pussy lips engorged and pulsating with sensitivity.

Hole clenching and unclenching around nothing.

Stack kissed all over her pussy softly, admiring his work in between. Star began to relax, body going lax against the bed.

“That was amazing, Stack. Thank you.”

Stack smirked against her clit. He peered up at her from between her legs.

“Anytime, baby…I mean that.”

Stack kissed his way up her body. Star was drifting in and out of consciousness. He positioned himself above her, staring down into her face.

Sleep, baby…we’ll meet again…

Stack stroked her face until her head fell off to its side. He picked her up and tucked her in. Stack could wait to sink his dick into her. He just needed to eat her pussy. And it was worth the wait.

The sensation of sleep settled over his body, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay. Dawn was approaching.

He’d sleep for now, bringing Star closer so he could breathe her in.

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#stack smut #stack sinners #elias stack moore #stack x reader #stack #elias smokes x black!oc #nahimjustfeelingit-writes #sinnersfanfiction #sinners smut

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moonshynecybin · 23 days ago

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okay so I am new to moto GP and this whole jorge Martin situation is giving 'im the champion, I wanna go to Honda, fuck everything else' and like, is that so? or am I missing something?

i think he thinks the bike is cursed, has a huge (kinda fragile tbh) ego w limited self moderation that is being stirred into a froth bc he’s sitting at home all stir crazy like when you keep a dog inside too long, bez’s results were kinda meh for a bit, and honda is poised to hand him a huge fat stack of cash on a performance upswing that has him primed for a good effort in 2027. all of which seems like a pretty clean release valve to someone like jmartin, who again doesn’t have a lotta patience generally (to be fair: this sitch would test anyone’s patience lmao i’d be buggin) and no specific attachment to aprilia besides aleix (WHOS AT HONDA…) so he literally doesn’t care about leaving or taking out his frustration on them. like it is a very self-motivated choice here yeah but i also can’t particularly judge him for that… the REAL issue is the long term, where now that he’s pissed off every team but yamaha and honda, from here on out it’s kinda nerf or nothing

#and he’s only like 27 lmao #callie speaks #asks #truly all of this is so in line with my preconceptions about him i cannot stress this enough…#and like: these guys have short careers that they’re obsessed with !! and i think for a really active guy #who likes tangible goals like martin it gives the other (stupid) thoughts a little too much space to run and play #‘bad’ honesty he could do fine at honda i just don’t like it particularly as a luca warrior #mgp

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thegildedbee · 1 year ago

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Eavesdrop/Nightmare: May 14 & 15 Prompts from @calaisreno

The mail he’d retrieved from 221B has now sat on Harry’s kitchen table for three days. He’d felt drained that first evening, and couldn’t get himself to care enough to summon the energy to look through it; he figured after a night’s sleep he’d be able to focus on it in the morning. Except that he hadn’t felt that he wanted to start the day with the mail, not knowing if it would then throw the rest of the day off-kilter: best to tackle it at the end of the day.

Except that the white envelopes had glared too brightly in the kitchen light that evening, making his eyes hurt, and when he turned down the lights, the pile seemed best left alone in the halftoned dimness.

When he had sat down today with a ham and cheese sandwich at lunch time, Harry had loomed over him, set down a rubbish bin, and pointed at the pile, her eyes narrowed.

“It’s not going to sort itself, John,” she says, as she sits down opposite him. “Maybe sorting out the pile will get you sorted.”

He takes a bite of his sandwich and screws up his face. “Ha, ha, very funny, Harry.”

“Here, little brother. I bet I can coax you with one of these,” she says, pulling a chocolate orange from her pocket and detaching a slice. “For every handful you get through, I’ll give you a slice as a reward.”

“Omigod, Harry, I’m not five years old.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Prove it. Chin up, Johnny.”

John grimaces. “All right. But I want a chocolate slice up front, in addition to the one that comes after I get through a stack.”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay. Deal.” She picks up three envelopes and places a chocolate piece on top and hands them over, and gets back up. “I’m gonna make a cuppa – do you want one?”

“Of course, thanks.”

John chews and sorts, and sorts and chews; most of the pieces of mail do end up being binned. He sets aside a few that are from former clients; two of them had cheques inside. He’s been separating out what are likely to be condolence cards, and looks askance at them when he’s done.

Harry nods approvingly, handing him a chocolate orange slice. He sighs. She hands him a second slice, and he gives her a sheepish whisper of a smile.

What’s left are various advertising circulars for neighborhood stores and local take-away menus. In some ways these make him sadder than the stack of condolence cards. He can’t bring himself to bin any of those items and pushes them aside, and idly pulls a multi-page brochure toward himself. It’s glossy and expensive, like part of an informational campaign for the latest flash Mercedes or BMW, and has a full-scale photo of a moto-cross athlete off in some canyon area, who has made a spectacular leap from an outcropping with his machine, hanging in mid-air.

"What’s that?” Harry asks.

John shrugs, “Some sort of impact absorbent material for athletes.”

“For athletes?” she teases. “Then how’d you get on their mailing list? Your rugby days are a bit beyond you, mate.”

“Ah, sod off, Harry. I dunno," he says, flipping through the pages and seeing all the images of lab equipment and white coats. "Maybe it was something Sherlock was into. Looks like geeky chemistry stuff.”

“That may be so, but it’s your name on the address, not his.”

“Maybe because I was his blogger. Who cares? It’s not relevant to anything,” he says dismissively, tossing it in the bin.

“Well, here’s the rest of the orange. I’ve got things to do, and places to be. I’ll see you later this evening, probably after dinner time, yeah?”

“Sure, no problem. See you later.”

John reaches for the chocolate, a ragged, pensive mood settling in. He looks down at the brochure lying on top of the other discards in the bin, and then slowly turns to look intently at the stack of condolence cards. Reluctantly, he goes back-and-forth once more, and then stills.

Bodies flying through the air. Bodies falling. Bodies crashing. The familiar stuff of his nightmares. But something tweaks inside his head, and he tries to refocus on whatever fleeting point has flickered on, then off, before he can catch hold of it.

Bodies flying through the air, wearing protective material. Bodies falling, buffered by protective material. Bodies crashing, withstanding the impact due to protective material.

No! he says emphatically to himself, as his mind suggests that maybe, just maybe, his flying detective might have been similarly outfitted. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Of course not. It’s absurd to think that. After all, he saw Sherlock’s body up close, felt for a pulse that wasn’t there.

He tries to calm his breathing, and to think logically, and not let his mind race along imaginary paths. No, of course not. Even if Sherlock had been wearing something like this, it doesn’t mean he survived the fall. And if he had, why would he have let everyone think him dead?

Just a magic trick, John.

John suddenly stands up and shakes his head in frustration. Is he finally going 'round the twist?

Surely, there would have been a sign. He looks down at the brochure, full of images of athletes doing extreme sports, and soldiers, and probably stunt people from motion pictures.

He walks over to the sitting room so that he can grab a sofa cushion, and then furiously punches it over and over and over again, hurls it across the room in disgust when he’s finished, and then collapses into the nearest chair.

Maybe he should he talk to someone? Who would he talk to? Mycroft? Um, no, he snorts. As if that fucker would ever give a straight answer. Plus he’d probably have him sectioned on the spot. Mrs. Hudson? What if there are other oddities to be accounted for? Even if she didn’t turn him away from her doorstep, looking at him pityingly, it probably wouldn’t do to discuss such things at Baker Street. Big brother was probably still eavesdropping, because, why not? Does a leopard change its spots?

And then the picture of Anderson showing up on his doorstep a few weeks back floats into his mind. It was a few weeks back, yeah? What had Anderson said? Something about Sherlock not being dead and his having picked up traces that showed that he’d been in Europe. At least John thinks that's what he said. The roaring in his ears before he smashed Anderson’s nose might have distorted whatever the tosser had been going on about.

Disbelievingly, John thinks: Perhaps he should go to see Anderson? Maybe, John says to himself, shaking his head in doubt, a sour taste in his mouth. Surely not, he responds.

But what if what Anderson has to say isn't impossible; only improbable? John has no idea what to do. At this moment, for now, the only decision he's capable of making . . . is no decision at all.

........................................................ @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper @helloliriels @a-victorian-girl @keirgreeneyes @starrla89 @naefelldaurk

@topsyturvy-turtely @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @jobooksncoffee @meetinginsamarra @solarmama-plantsareneat @bluebellofbakerstreet @dragonnan @safedistancefrombeingsmart @jolieblack

@msladysmith @ninasnakie @riversong912 @dapetty

.............................................................................

#mayprompts2024 #calaisreno #sherlock bits and bobs #may prompts 2024 #johnlock

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 years ago

Text

sting, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader — mentions of husband!seokjin x reader

summary: “Please let me borrow your husband.” “You can if I can borrow Seokjin.” And so Min Yoongi was here, sitting on a ivory-colored leather sofa, surveying Kim Seokjin's wife with a critical eye. He hadn't expected to be in this position, but it was his wife's request and he never disappointed his lovely (devious) wife.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; the other side of the wife swap in honey, m (ksj) and Yoongi is about to fuck his hyung's wife, yup; D/s smut (fem reader, he is borderline mean, manhandling tbh, choking kink, hair pulling, nipple play, he spits on her tits, m-receiving oral / face fucking, ass + pussy slapping, m-masturbation, fingering, standing doggy, overstimulation / multiple orgasms); non-idol!BTS - dom!Yoongi x not-his-wife, sub!reader; Yoongi's POV

his outfit is inspired by the 'D-Day' Agust D ver PC photos, leather moto jacket and ripped jeans, and ofc his long black hair ;)

“It’s fun sometimes, to do the wrong thing and get away with no consequence.”

“Please stop giving me tangerines.”

“Ahahaha…”

If anyone was not afraid of falling in love with Kim Seokjin’s wife, it was definitely Min Yoongi. He set the fourth… actually, fifth tangerine onto the stack in front of him on the coffee table. This attempt at offering delicious fruits to lessen the obvious awkwardness was not working. It wasn’t that Yoongi did not like tangerines. He loved them. Refreshing snacks that came in their own compostable packaging? Truly nature’s finest work.

“If you want my fingers stuffed in your holes, it would be rude of me to cover them in tangerine juice,” he explained calmly, pushing back his long dark hair and raising an eyebrow at Kim Seokjin’s wife.

She turned pink and started sputtering.

He remained calm and expressionless, recalling the conversation that made it come to this.

“She’s interested in you,” his wife had said with a small smile.

“In me?”

“As she should be, because my husband is handsome, talented, and a sex god.”

Yoongi hadn’t married his wife because she was humble; she was simply honest.

Obviously.

He had been called to action and he intended to fulfill his promise. Interested in him, hm? Yoongi wasn’t one to boast about his sexual prowess himself and, anyway, he was infinitely better now than before his wife. Took a god to create another, right? He half-smiled, knowing his wife would enjoy such a comment. But he had to put those thoughts away at the moment and not be disingenuous to the lovely lady in front of him. His hyung had taste in women, all right. She was pretty in the way that was easily approachable. Kind eyes and a soft demeanor. He knew Seokjin’s wife well enough to know she was usually had a more casual, clean style, but today she wore a black slip dress with a matching black lace bolero. The seams of the dress framed those juicy tits perfectly. No bra either. Such easy access. The dress was within her realm but fancier and sexier. He suspected that the outfit was his wife’s encouragement to get him in the mood. Heh. She was really enjoying orchestrating all this, wasn’t she? She knew what made him tick and how to frame this moment to make him want it within his grasp.

A challenge.

Yoongi couldn’t refuse to back down from a challenge to himself.

In contrast, he had arrived in his worn, black leather moto jacket, faded white-and-grey t-shirt, and distressed acid-wash slate jeans. Again, his wife’s doing. He had asked her what to wear. She had suggested for him to dress comfortably – probably to create this juxtaposition on purpose. Most times, he tended to dress up when visiting Seokjin’s home. The, uh, neighborhood seemed to call for it. But not this time. He hadn’t even tied up his hair, just left it shaggy and unkempt, leaving him looking more roguish than usual.

He heard his wife’s growling whisper in his ear.

Stop fucking around.

He let out a slow breath and flicked his eyes up.

Raised an eyebrow.

Seokjin’s wife was attempting to say something to him, red-faced and wringing her hands adorably, but Yoongi raised his hand and placed a single finger on those soft, glimmering pink lips. No matter what, he had to remind himself of her position. Therefore, he was going to avoid using her name directly unless it was absolutely necessary. He also preferred less talking. He needed to be in his head to pull this off.

He stared into those wide, expectant eyes.

Spoke slowly, using the lower octave of his vocal range.

“The safe word is tangerine.”

These self-imposed boundaries were not because Yoongi didn’t like her as a person. He did, but Seokjin’s wife was not his wife, so the emotional turn-on was missing. And, unlike his wife, his domspace was in a deeper place. He had been spoiled by his love and her energy. She always coaxed out his darker desires with ease, but this time he had to bring out his primal side by himself to lead properly.

“You will not speak unless I ask you a direct question.”

He raised his chin, volume barely above a whisper.

“Do you understand?”

She nodded quickly.

A small spark raced down his spine and Yoongi licked his lips, removing his index finger from her lips.

In complete silence, he hooked two fingers around the hair elastic on his left wrist and pulled up, raising his arms in a creak of leather to tie back the top half of his hair. Partly to get it our of his eyes. He secured his ponytail and lowered his arms, trailing his gaze up the sheer thigh-high stockings to lush hips flush against the sofa cushions to small hands clasped tightly in front of her chest and then finally to shaking irises that were taking in his half-tied back hair.

Heh.

Her lips parted, simply staring at him.

The corner of his lips ticked upward.

Then he shot his arm out and grabbed her by the throat.

She yelped, hands flying up and gripping his wrist and edge of his palm, but Yoongi had done this many times. He immediately locked his hold but did not press inward. Instead, he pushed his shoulder forward, forcing her body to tip backwards slightly, suspending her upper body in the air.

“Ah, Yoongi-oppa–”

He closed his other hand over her mouth, gripping her cheeks tightly.

“What did I just say?” he warned.

Stern, with an edge of danger. She nodded very quickly even though technically this was not a question to agree to. He let it slide. He tilted his head, still covering her lips.

“Scared?”

The terror in those eyes was not as honest as it could be.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

He removed his hand and traced a line from temple to chin, keeping his touch feather-light and gentle.

“I’m only going to push the line of pleasure and pain,” he murmured.

Yoongi only had a vague idea of what was expected of him. He knew she wanted to be truly dominated as this was not usually part of her sex life. He didn’t really want to know specifics anyway. He only wanted to know what he could do that was different. The issue was that apparently his hyung couldn’t be detached and impartial. In short, Seokjin worried too much because he was too sweet. Sometimes he sacrificed acting so it didn’t affect his performance. He had strength and he could be overbearing, but not exactly in a rough take-what-you-want way.

Yoongi tucked a spare strand of hair behind that delicate ear.

“It might sting though.”

He noted the small gold hoops covered in diamonds. Hm. Pretty. Maybe he would ask for the brand later.

Then he smiled.

Calmly.

And choked her.

The sensation of power seeped into him. Thick, heavy, coating his senses, dripping like hot honey, drawing all of his focus into her surprised eyes, those petting fingertips stroking the exposed veins and tendons along the back of his larger hand, soft mewl calling for him, and Yoongi felt his lips curve into a knowing smirk, honing his attention on the submissive wordless plea falling from those lips.

He raised his body with one knee on the sofa, half-standing, hovering over her, adding pressure to the sides of her neck, slowing down the blood flow. A beautiful flower trapped in his clutches. He leaned in, tracing the edge of his teeth with his tongue.

He could almost taste the nectar.

“Hah…”

Let his breath warm those open lips, running his fingers through her hair.

“I would say, let’s play nice, but.”

His wickedness unfurled.

“I have no intention of playing nice.”

Yoongi tangled his fingers into her hair and yanked hard, relishing in the pained whine before taking it away by the throat, choking her into silence. Closed the distance, lips hovering over shaking lips, but he denied that too, dragging his tongue over her cheek, tasting flesh and anticipation.

“Did you really think I would kiss you?” he purred, letting the words stir and curl in the depths of his chest. “Let’s see if you can earn that gift, hm?”

He didn’t bother to be gentle. That wasn’t the point and, besides, that consideration was reserved for his love. He let go, simply releasing all the pressure instantly, and settled back onto the sofa, not even giving the grace of a glance in her direction. He heard her reel from the sudden punch of oxygen and freedom, collapsing slightly in wheezing coughs, and Yoongi immediately placed his hand onto her shoulder and shoved her to the floor, hooking his leg around her body and dragging her in front of him, on her knees.

She gasped, gripping his thighs, looking up with pained eyes.

He dragged himself forward, on the edge, and looked down with a grin.

“Pretty in pain.”

He let go of her shoulder and hooked his fingers over the edges of the bolero and the straps of the slinky slip dress, lifting and sliding them down her arms in one smooth motion. She squeaked, suddenly self-conscious but he knocked her hands away, tucking the upper half of the dress under her breasts, chuckling darkly. Nipples already hard, plush tits pushed up by the dress. He cupped his hand under her chin again, gripping tight. Lifted her up to set her back straight so her tits were pushed out, her exposed body between his open knees.

He made his voice was cold and as deep as possible.

“Show me how you play with your tits for your husband.”

Not choking yet, but her breathing was already short, whimpering. Slowly moving her hands from his legs and flattening her palms against her breasts, kneading them lightly, unsure how to proceed. He let it be humiliating. Not reacting, ticking his head and lifting his eyebrow. Did not remove his hand though, tipping her head back more in warning. She gasped, moaning softly as she pinched her nipples, pulling them out and toying with them more.

“Harder,” Yoongi growled.

Shaking whines as he watched her obey, pinching harder, squeezing her breasts so they spilled out against her fingers, her eyelids fluttering as he subtly applied pressure. He lowered his face, staring into her glazed-over eyes.

“What is the safe word?” he asked directly.

“T… T-Tangerine.”

Yoongi nodded. “Hm. Good girl.”

Her face lit up from the praise until he spat on her tits.

She yelped and her whole body jerked, glossy saliva dripping down the curves and sticking to her skin, but he ignored it, choking her hard as he raised his hips and unbuttoned his jeans with his free hand, speaking calmly and slowly.

“You said I reminded you of tangerines,” he mused, recalling the earlier conversation. “Soft on the inside, tough peel on the outside. Mmmm, but I don’t know about that.”

He abruptly let go again, sending her into a spiral of sensations. Rushing blood, tension broken, air flooding into her lungs, and he took the moment to lower his jeans and his underwear. He thought about removing more but honestly he enjoyed this power play more. He reached behind her and wound the lace bolero down, trapping her squirming arms. She was utterly confused and then suddenly frozen, staring at his hand around his hard cock. He ran his thumb against the side, locking her head in place with his other hand, spreading his fingers over the crown of her skull, bringing his hips forward without a word.

He licked his teeth, open-mouthed smirk dripping sin.

“Now, I know hyung wouldn’t marry a woman with a subpar mouth, so let’s see what you’ve got.”

He pushed her head down and thrust roughly into her throat.

He settled his other hand behind him before fucking her face, not fast but deep, enjoying the little jolt of her shoulders as he did so. Tight and soft, just as he liked. Not nearly enough tongue, but he didn’t fault her for the lack of technique. Probably not every day she got face-fucked in such an uncomfortable position. Therefore, he didn’t put the pressure on her to get him off but rather used her like a toy, back and forth, smacking his balls into her chin, tucking his tongue into his cheek as he looked down and watched her breasts bounce with his force. Her whimpers added vibration to pleasure, and he curled his fingers into her hair, imprisoning the position of her head so her mouth could serve his cock, each snap of the hips anchored by his torso and thighs, letting him put real force behind his action.

He remained silent and amused.

Her eyes were squeezed shut. Her hands were pinned down to her thighs. He saw her fingers twist into the hem of her dress, lifting it up. He kept the pace consistent, building his orgasm, feeling it to his core, wet, hot, tight, muffled cries stuffed back into her throat over and over again. He tilted his hips down, running the head of his cock along her tongue for more stimulation. The hardware of his moto jacket clicked with his repeated thrusts, the leather hot and stuffy, the kind of discomfort that only added to the mood. The whole situation reminded him slightly of how he had been back in the day, barely an adult thinking he could do whatever and whoever he wanted.

Feeling good by doing the wrong thing and getting away with no consequence.

He exhaled hard.

Small tears gathered against her lashes, the strain and desperation of being good blatantly evident.

“I see what your husband enjoys so much now.”

Her eyes opened a little.

Glassy.

Used.

Delicious.

He came down her throat, raising his hips to stuff it down.

Her eyes rolled back, whimpering and almost sobbing, hurriedly swallowing to breathe. He bit back his wince, oversensitivity crawling up his back, and pressed deeper, groaning as he felt his cock jerk in her tight throat, squishing more cum into her tongue. He pinned her head there, sucking in a hissing inhale to get his bearings, her breath warming his lower belly.

Good job, my darling.

Yoongi snarled deep in his chest. He knew his wife too well. Could nearly imagine her here, watching carefully and with that small smile that meant she believed he could do more. Be more. Push the limit. Fuck. He let go, throwing off his jacket as the woman between his legs gasped and moaned, spent from being used. But it wasn’t those hazy, lust-drunk eyes that were in his head.

However, you’re better than that, aren’t you?

He knew he was being stared at. He was a spectacle right now. His falling jeans, the tangle of chain and leather bracelets clinking on his wrists, the way the large t-shirt clung off his torso, his half-tied up long black hair, the faint sheen of sweat along his flushed cheekbones, and, finally, his furrowed brow and sharpened gaze, looking down at the pretty thing between his open legs.

“Stand up,” he commanded.

He didn’t waste time going to the bedroom.

He pulled the condom from his jacket pocket and yanked her up by the arm, bending her over the side of the ivory leather sofa. An unceremonious position for Kim Seokjin’s beautiful wife, but Yoongi didn’t give a shit. He peeled the lace bolero from her arms and tossed it onto the floor, shoving his hand down on her upper back. She squeaked, falling forward onto the cushions and his leather jacket, grabbing it tightly as he caught her waist, steadying her body just before harsh contact.

“Spread your legs,” he said coolly, borderline bored.

“B-But–”

Smack!

The flat of his palm instantly stuck her ass. She yelped and squirmed, stifling her cry by burying her face in his jacket, and he made no move to comfort, pushing down on her lower back so her round, inviting ass popped up more.

“You do not speak unless I ask you a direct question,” he sternly reminded.

She made a choked noise of agreement.

“Good girl.”

He couldn’t help but smile when she mewled softly at his words. So easy. He fanned his fingers over her ass, tapping lightly. Watched her fingers curl into his jacket, covering herself with his scent. He ghosted his touch over his half-hard cock and hummed, gently drumming his fingertips down, closer, leisurely.

Then he slapped her pussy.

Already wet, creating a loud squelching sound. She cried out, back arching, throwing her head back, and he continued, hard slap after slap, using the full expanse of his hand to amplify the sting to skin. She tried to close her legs and he forced them apart with his knee, casually stroking himself as he did so, unexpectedly interspersing hits between her ass and soaked pussy. No rhyme or rhythm, just deadly calm and his own soft sighs of satisfaction completely contrasting the force behind his hand. It was all too easy to slide his fingers down her slick slit.

Yoongi bent down, rubbing her clit firmly as he whispered above shaking shoulders.

“You want this cock inside you, don’t you?”

He only now noticed that he had slipped into his satoori, forgetting to speak properly. It didn’t seem to matter through, because she was clawing at his jacket and whining, yes, please, y-yes, a fresh wave of shuddering moans when he shoved two fingers into that tightness, viciously pumping them in and out. He kept her waiting, just for seconds longer, jacking himself off as he felt her walls suck him in, clinging and pulsating around his fingers, hot skin radiating against his.

Enough is enough, Yoongi told himself.

He debated on removing his shirt but decided he didn’t care. Reached back to his falling pants' pocket and pulled out the condom, pulling his fingers out to rip it open. Sweet honey clung to his knuckles but it didn’t hinder him. Seokjin’s wife gasping into the sofa, ass flushed pink, trembling legs struggling to hold herself up.

He rolled the condom down.

“Go ahead and scream.”

It was necessarily a scream per se, but it was a very loud feral cry that suddenly echoed about the living room the moment he shoved his full hardness deep inside, adding a snap of his hips to bottom out. He exhaled hard, gripping her ass and lifting it roughly to adjust the angle. Easy when she was melting against him, clawing at the sofa for some kind of hold. No need, but he didn’t say so, enjoying her euphoric agony. He could feel her ass grind into his crotch, inner walls gripping him tightly, and he secured his hold on her hips, locking his fingers, and began to fuck her right against her own sofa.

He hoped she remembered picking out the furniture.

Hoped she remembered discussing it with her husband and laughing as their butts tested various contestants before selecting this very particular one, only to be bent over it and taken like an animal, face against the cushions, the metal zipper of his leather jacket cutting into her breasts as she bunched it up under her chest, gasping and moaning from his powerful, deliberate thrusts. Yoongi made it last, choosing power over speed. He tensed his pelvis and leaned forward to get that depth, panting, pressing his fingertips into her waist hard enough to leave bruises.

“You wanted me to choke you, wasn’t that it?” he breathed out, heavy and raspy. “Where did you get the audacity to ask for something like that?”

“A-Aah, p-please… she–!”

He smacked his palm against the side of her hip and she cried out, throwing her head back, hands slipping against the leather. The answer didn’t really matter.

“And what make you think that you wouldn’t face the consequences?”

Yoongi was just in the mood to taunt.

He was nearing the edge so he gripped one of her shoulders, bending over her smaller body and slamming his hips into her ass, violent pleasure snaking into his veins. He looked down to see her face turned, cheek pressed into his jacket and the sofa, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut, whining pathetically as he buried his cock deep inside and hissed, feeling her pussy pulsate and clench around his jerking length.

No time to breathe.

He spread his fingers over her upper thigh and held tightly onto her shoulder, lifting her upper body up. Reflexively, her hands planted onto the sofa to support her, quivering arms and all, and that was exactly what he wanted.

With some effort, Yoongi twisted his right wrist and choked her.

His left hand slid down and he rubbed fast, tight circles over her swollen clit.

“Your boldness needs to be punished.”

Moaning, crying, whining, her whole body becoming rigid and then ransacked by shivers. Strangled whimpers of his name but Yoongi didn’t stop, pushing for another orgasm that he could still feel even around his softening length. He was large enough that he hadn’t slipped out. She no longer had any control over her body, second orgasm incoming, the overwhelming pleasure eating up all common sense and the highs blending into one another, extending his own pleasure as her pussy convulsed, thick, honey-like cum sticking between their joined thighs. Her arms went limp, collapsing, and he had less than ten seconds to hold her up before gravity would knock them down.

He clenched his jaw and pulled back.

Standing was a loose term for what was happening. Yoongi had to grip the side of the couch so he didn’t stumble, keeping his grasp on her collarbones to press her hot body against his, still shaking from the intensity. The room reeked of sex. His cock was sliding out. He should have gotten rid of his jeans. They were a hinderance around his calves now.

Sigh.

Seokjin’s wife was fully leaning on his chest, gasping lungfuls of precious air.

His own wife was probably having her own way with Kim Seokjin right now, but she was a better planner and not this messy.

Right?

“Hey.”

He grabbed one of her tits and sank his fingers into it, kneading roughly to get her attention, but the eyes that greeted him were completely unfocused. Nice.

“Let’s take a break.”

She tried to rut into his crotch but his hand shot up, grabbing her chin and yanking it to his face, forcing her into an uncomfortable twist of her exhausted body.

“I will rephrase. Stop.”

She whimpered, unable to fight him. He softened. She was very pretty. Too innocent-looking and airheaded for him, but that didn’t matter. It was very clear that she enjoyed it, but now Yoongi could see there was hesitancy in asking if he did. Probably had something to do with the unapproachable air of his demeanor right now. He toned it down a little, closing in the distance. He wasn’t much of a talker, which didn’t suit everyone. He relied too much on his wife to infer from his actions but it wasn’t fair to apply that line of thinking to everybody. He had to do his best to be communicative even if he wasn’t saying something directly.

“Don’t give me those puppy eyes,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “You’ve earned one kiss.”

He tilted his head and kissed her deeply. Strands of his hair fell forward, loosened from his ponytail, drifting onto her temples. Gentle, delicate, sliding his tongue lightly against hers. He let it last. He could taste desperation. It made him smile into the kiss.

There was no rush.

He had a lot of time left.

His hand slid down, his long fingers decorating that neck.

“And more to do,” Yoongi whispered to trembling lips.

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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chaotic-jjk-fiction · 2 years ago

Text

Networking

Shiu Kong x Fem Reader

TW: fancy party, yakuza, nicknames (sweetheart, doll, and princess), size kink if you squint, Shiu call reader a bimbo, sexually suggestive. MDNI. Not beta read.

A/N: This wasn’t my originally planned Shiu fic, lol, but since the other one was taking so long and I felt bad, I hope you’ll enjoy this one for now!

Upon meeting a cute scientist at a party, Shiu feels as though his night might not be so boring after all.

Word count: 1.3k

Shiu hated parties like this. Extravagant mixers of Japan’s most influential upper echelon and people like himself trying to make connections. The lights were blinding as he surveyed the room from the balcony just above the main dance floor. It was a sea of sparkling dresses and dark suits. The band played classical melodies that, while skilled, were far from what Shiu enjoyed listening to. He tried to ground himself, ‘Remember, you’re here to meet potential clients.’ He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket feeling the little stack of business cards he always brought to events. ‘It’s routine at this point’ Shiu reminds himself, taking a deep breath in, and forcing himself to step into the crowd of people surrounding him.

Over the years he had gotten pretty good at identifying who was his likely clientele at parties like this where the legal and illegal businesses melted together. His first target was a balding man in his late fifties with a much younger woman, presumably an escort, clinging to his arm. He recognized this man as Mr. Moto, an executive of a slightly lower yakuza family in charge of arms smuggling. Casually making his way over, he introduced himself, “Hello Mr. Moto. My name is Kong Shiu. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The man grinned slightly, clearly pleased to have been recognized. “What is it that you do Mr. Kong?” Mr. Moto inquired, getting straight to the point. Shiu did not mind though, he appreciated not drawing out these kinds of interactions. “I’m a mediator of sorts. If you have a job that’s maybe a little too messy to do yourself, I find someone suited for it and ensure that it all goes smoothly.” Mr. Moto hummed in approval. “Here’s my card.” Shiu reached into his jacket pocket and handed one of the little rectangles over. “My contact information is on there.” Just like that, the conversation was over and the two men parted ways. On to the next.

He talked to person after person until he lost count. Each exchange lasted less than ten minutes, but they were undeniably draining. Trying to entertain clients had always been stressful for him, and networking was the same. The lights, loud music, and claustrophobic atmosphere were not helping. ‘God, I need a smoke.’ Desperate to clear his head a little, Shiu started down the grand staircase hoping to be able to slip outside and light up a cigarette before having to return and continue schmoozing.

As he made it to the edge of the dance floor, the final obstacle between him and his nicotine fix, someone caught his eye.

You were turned in such a way that the mediator could only see half of your face while you engaged in conversation with someone he didn't recognize. He couldn't explain why he felt drawn to you, maybe it was the way your dress hugged your body or the aura you seemed to radiate but his plan to take a smoke break was quickly abandoned as he slipped through the elegantly dressed crowd.

He stayed back a bit so that he was within earshot of your discussion yet not obviously eavesdropping. You hadn't seemed like an escort, and based on your lack of a wedding ring, you probably weren't a trophy wife. Shiu’s intuition proved itself to be correct as he tuned into the exchange, focusing on your sweet voice. “So, in summary, our lab is using CRISPR to study genes implicated in neurodevelopmental disorders. If you would like to reach out to my PI with any more questions about what we are doing or how to donate, here’s his contact information.” He watched as you handed the man a card, shook his hand, and said goodbye. Once the stranger was out of sight you closed your eyes and let out a little sigh, your shoulders visibly relaxing. He decided to seize this opportunity to approach you, “Need a break, sweetheart?” Shiu was now standing in front of you, a playful smirk on his face. Your face was even more beautiful up close. “My name is Kong Shiu, who might you be?” You were quiet for a minute, looking up at him he could see the flicker of surprise in your eyes before you returned his smile. “Mr. Kong-” “Just call me Shiu.” “Well, Shiu, you can call me (y/n).” “forgive me if I'm jumping to conclusions, but it seems like you could use a break from the mingling.” He studied your face, trying to read your reaction to his words. To his relief, your features softened. “You have no idea.” Shiu was honestly a little surprised at how well this was going. Using the confidence he had gained thus far, he extended his hand out to you and asked “Would you care to dance?” Now it was his turn to be surprised as you confidently placed your hand in his much larger one. “Lead the way.”

And that he did. Carefully guiding you through the masses until you two were on the dance floor slightly removed from the other dancing couples. When he was satisfied with the location, he pulled you closer to his chest and took your other hand, once again admiring how small it was compared to his. You two began swaying just as everyone else appeared to be doing.

“So, Shiu” your voice trailed off for a moment. He couldn't help but notice that you seemed nervous now, which was funny compared to how boldly you had accepted his offer earlier. Maybe it was the close proximity. Your eyes finally met him and you continued, “What business do you have here with the wealthy elites?” He chuckled softly, taking note of the way your muscles tensed in reaction to feeling the reverberations in his chest against your body. “I suppose I'm a mediator. I help facilitate certain exchanges and such.” You nodded your head in understanding. “What about you, Doll?” the tips of your ears were dusted a soft pink upon hearing the nickname. “I'm a research scientist.”

“Then shouldn't you be in the lab? I mean, what's a smart girl like you doing at a party like this?” The blush had now spread to your cheeks and you looked flustered at his words. ‘I wonder how cute her reaction would be if I was praising her for taking my cock?’ he mentally cursed himself, this was not the time to be thinking about that. “Well, my PI believes that it is easier to attract funding from these older men,” you used your head to gesture around the room, “if it's a younger woman who talks to them. Not my favorite business model, but I do need that money. Science is expensive.” You frowned as you said the last part.

“Want me to help take your mind off of it?” Shiu inquired, genuinely wondering if he could ease your mind. Seeing you frown made his heart ache a little. Thankfully his offer seemed to perk you up and a mischievous glimmer appeared in your eyes as you pressed your body flush onto his. He could feel your tits through his dress shirt. So this is how you wanted to behave? Well, two could play that game. His arms slid down your waist, trapping you against his hips and making you aware of the growing bulge in his slacks. Your face was once again bright pink as you registered Shiu’s clothed erection. Your brain was frozen and unable to speak. All you could do was look up at him, eyes wide. “Want me to make you my little bimbo for tonight, princess?” His voice was deep and seductive. You nodded your head fervently, pulling away from him and grabbing his hand. He couldn't help but chuckle at your empty-headed neediness. As you led him away into one of the bathrooms, he thought to himself, ‘Maybe this party wouldn’t be so bad.’

#jjk x reader #tw yakuza #shiu kong #shiu kong x reader #shiu x reader

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