#Time for me to take a break from this man

[sttoru]

ahh i just cant stop thinking of sukuna's fav concubine getting injured from the other concubines but she hides it because shes scared of being weak (in sukuna's eyes) and/or a burden ☹️☹️

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. fluff, sprinkle of angst n comfort. size difference. reader gets called ‘brat, woman, little one’ — ig this is a bit early in their relationship

“i’ve arrived, my lord,” you announce your presence once you step into sukuna’s quarters. the dimly lit room removed all the stress you currently had in your system—the knowledge that you’re safe in his space causes your shoulders to drop.

sukuna turns his head to look at you while he’s laid back on his bed, topless. all four of his eyes roam over your body, which isn’t anything unusual for you. he always does that.

“tch. took ya long enough,” the king of curses scoffs before gesturing for you to come closer, making that familiar motion with his fingers, “when i order y’ to come, you’re supposed to drop everything and rush to be at my service, woman.”

you hurry over to his side of the bed with a nod. “my apologies,” you mutter. you can’t tell him why you’re late, because hell would break loose within these walls. and also because you’re scared of what his reaction would be.

before being called over, you were in the kitchen, peacefully trying to get a snack, when two other concubines entered the room. you tried ignoring them, but that didn’t seem to be the smartest move. it wasn’t long before they threw derogatory remarks at you.

of course, you stood up for yourself and yelled some back. that’s when one of them pushed you backwards, causing the skin near your hand to get slightly burned by the fire on the stove.

if it weren’t for the maids around that went to report the ruckus to uraume, god knows what more would have went down in that kitchen.

“oi,” sukuna grabs your jaw and lifts your head up. he can immediately notice the vacant look in your eyes, which is unusual for you. you snap out of your trance and set the nasty memories aside—ignoring the impulse to scratch the injury on your wrist.

“i’m sorry, my lord,” you say again before slowly undoing your obi. you figure that is why sukuna had called you over, to do your job as his concubine. you halt your movements when you realise that undressing meant that he’s going to see the wound on your skin.

you hesitate. that same instant of hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed by the king of curses. a large hand of his moves to stop both of your wrists from pulling off your robes.

“. . .i’m giving y’ three seconds of my time,” sukuna narrows his eyes after allowing you to speak up and tell him what’s on your mind. he hears you whimper in pain when he holds onto your wrist, your facial expression clearly uncomfortable. “spit it out,” he impatiently huffs. he wants to hear you say what’s wrong.

you desperately shake your head, biting your bottom lip. you don’t want to tell him—even though you know you’re obligated to.

denying an answer to sukuna was your next big mistake.

“fuckin’ brat,” the pink-haired man grunts. he yanks your arms up to his face, harshly pulling down the sleeves of your kimono. all four of his red eyes immediately fall onto the wound on your wrist. you obviously hadn’t treat it yet, even though you should have done so long ago.

there’s tension hanging in the air almost instantly after your little secret gets revealed. sukuna’s grip on your hands tightens which causes you to flinch. you close your eyes and expect the worst. you can already hear the insults he’ll throw at you—how he’ll call you useless, weak, stupid and all that.

“look up at me,” his voice rings out in a firm tone. you don’t want to anger him more than he already is, so you obey. you open your eyes and glance upwards, your worried gaze meeting his.

sukuna takes a deep breath to contain the bubbling rage inside of him; a rare sight indeed. he doesn’t want to unnecessarily lash out at you when it isn’t needed. however, he can’t deny that itching urge in his chest, to get mad at whoever caused your skin to get tainted like that.

sukuna stares at you with an intimidating glare. when you expect him to yell profanities at you, the unexpected happens.

“who did this to you?” he asks, voice strained like he’s trying to hold himself back.

you blink a few times. the king of curses sounds pissed off, and when he’s in that kind of mood, you know he’s not to be played with. you look the other way and try to think of a proper answer.

will you snitch and cause unnecessary bloodbath, or will you spare the lives of the concubines who hurt you and lie?

you’re scared of being seen as useless by sukuna if you tell him the truth. if you lie, he’ll probably call you weak and stupid as well. it’s a lose-lose situation, you conclude.

you swallow the spit that has gathered in your mouth before parting your lips.

“m-miko,” her name echoes in his ears. you decide to be honest, because you know that there’s no fooling the ryomen sukuna. a second of silence follows and when you look up at him, he stares back at you with furrowed brows.

“ah,” you then realise that he doesn’t know his concubines by name. he has way too many women at his disposal and doesn’t find them worthy enough to remember.

however you have heard from uraume and the others that he does know your name—only yours. it makes you feel special.

you try to describe the concubine you’ve tussled with, “s-short blonde hair, uhm, mole under her right eye.. brown colored eyes—“

sukuna thinks for a moment before clicking his tongue once he faintly remembers who that’s supposed to be. without a word, he stands up and wraps one muscular arm around your waist, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you under his armpit like some package.

“uraume!”

his voice is loud enough to make the walls shake and it carries a clear hint of pure rage. everyone in the estate should have heard him by now, which means that they know what is going down in a couple seconds.

sukuna sounding this angry only means one thing; someone is going to die today.

the servants hurriedly scurry around, deeply bowing as he walks past them in the hallway with you still tucked underneath his arms. you let yourself be carried while your heart beats uncontrollably fast in your chest.

you feel your hands shake a bit. seeing someone like sukuna be this mad for your sake—to the point that he’s ready to turn the entire area upside down—is somehow thrilling. though, you can’t help but feel sick because of your own thoughts.

someone is going to die and there you are, cheesing about the king of curses.

you see the white-haired chef appear from a corner, their steps hurried. they glance at you and then back at their master. it’s like they immediately connect the dots.

“treat her in my quarters. don’t let her leave until i come back,” sukuna commands without even looking at uraume. he’s staring ahead, with an ominous aura emitting from his body, one that somebody can sense from miles away.

he puts you down next to uraume before glancing your way one last time. he lets out a deep sigh as he sees the worried expression you’re making. he lowers his head to your level so you’d be face to face.

“and you,” his warm breath hits your cheeks and sends a shiver down your spine. you gulp as sukuna’s hand reaches up to firmly tug at your earlobe, “i’ll deal with your ass later, yeah? i’ll make you feel what it means to hide stuff from me, little one.”

that sentence makes you even more nervous. you know you won’t be able to avoid the punishment sukuna has in mind, so you simply nod. “understood,” you reply in a squeaky voice. you don’t have the guts to disobey him—he’s already out to kill someone and you don’t want to be the next victim.

sukuna straightens his back again and continues his journey towards the concubines’ quarters. every heavy step makes the floors and walls shake, a sign of his unstoppable rage that’s about to be unleashed.

you feel slightly puzzled. you didn’t expect this outcome when you revealed your injury to the ruthless man. you expected to be belittled and mocked for not being able to prevent a wound from being inflicted on your body.

instead, there he goes, off to get revenge in your stead. you feel a twisted sense of satisfaction after seeing sukuna be this protective over you. actions like these demonstrate more than his dull words can do, even if it may seem like he doesn’t care about what could happen to a human like you.

[kiiozawa]

Ex-Bf!Sukuna who brings your favorite flowers every 2 weeks when he picks you up from work. He says it's for his 'princess' much to your annoyance. You already feel guilty because Sukuna has been picking you up from your late night shifts at the restaurant. You still take the flowers, holding them gently in your lap as Sukuna drives you home. Sukuna looks at you through his peripheral and notices your furrowed eyebrows.

"What's going on in that beautiful head of yours, princess?" His voice was as smooth as ever.

You roll your eyes because Sukuna still calls you by that nickname despite breaking up with him. An unfamiliar feeling is filling your stomach as the wind from the open window cools your heated cheeks.

"Stop calling me that." You mumble only for Sukuna to snicker.

"No." It's all he says for the rest of the car ride. You look down on your lap and admire the pretty flowers that he got you this time. When you walk through your apartment door, the bouquet in your hands, you begin wondering if it always felt so empty without the tattooed pink hair man.

[dark-fics-4-you]

Thinking about an younger reader calling Dark!Dilf Rafe old and that’s he needs some viagra 😭LOL

Imagining his reaction 🤬

Softcore

Dark!Dad’sBestFriend/DILF!Rafe x f!Reader

Warnings: noncon (rape), ignoring safe words, smut, large age gap (20-30 years), spanking, choking, unprotected sex, unwanted creampie, breeding kink, degradation, secret relationship, manipulation, daddy kink, Rafe uses ‘kid’ to refer to reader a couple times, Rafe wants to get reader pregnant against her will

A/N: In my mind Rafe is in his late 40s/early 50s in this and Reader is 19/early-mid 20s

⚠️CHECK ALL CONTENT WARNINGS BEFORE READING‼️⚠️

“Y’know, maybe I didn’t hear you correctly kid, would you mind repeating yourself?”

You could tell by the edge in his voice that you had succeeded in getting a reaction out of him, but the way his blue eyes darkened as he glared at you led you to swallow down your cockiness.

Your boyfriend’s tall frame crowded your vision as he approached the bed you were lounging on as he removed his boxers.

Glancing away didn’t help, as the older man’s large hand came to your chin, redirecting your attention back up to him as he towered above you. Still you found your eyes fixed on the spots where his dark blond hair had begun turning silver.

“What did you just say to me, Y/N?” He spoke slowly, as if you were child who was acting up.

Despite knowing that this was his way of giving you a chance to retract what you had just said, you huffed in annoyance, rolling your eyes at the man who was older than your own father, before repeating yourself with a small laugh, “I said, I’m getting you viagra for your birthday since you’re getting so old.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened in frustration, eyebrows furrowing together before suddenly moving the hand on your cheek to your throat, applying a light pressure that had your eyes widening in surprise.

“You think this is fucking funny?” Rafe growled before pinning you to the bed you were sitting on by your throat.

The back of your head hit the soft mattress, the force at which Rafe had grabbed you made your pink lingerie slip ride up, exposing your matching panties underneath and some of the soft skin of your tummy. He licked his lips as he watched as your nipples harden beneath the thin material.

“Rafe-” you eeked in surprise, your hand reaching up to grab the one at your throat.

“Still think this is a joke?”

It took almost no effort for him to grab you again, climbing onto the bed as he manhandled you into laying across his lap face down.

“Rafe! Stop it! I’m sorry, okay?!” Your desperate pleas for him to release you went unfulfilled, and as you thrashed on his lap, trying to break free, you already knew what was coming next in return for your careless joke, and you couldn’t tell if the pit in your stomach came from excitement or fear.

“Nah, I don’t think I am gonna stop,” goosebumps erupted across your skin when you felt him pull the material of your slip up your back, exposing your round ass to him.

You shivered when he placed his hand flat on your ass, rubbing your skin and lightly groping the fat of your butt.

The blond drew his hand back and your tensed in anticipation before he spanked you hard. The extra sting from his rings made you whine and you bit your lip to keep from crying out.

“What do you say?” His expectant voice reminded you of your rules.

“… thank you, daddy,” you reluctantly forced through gritted teeth.

This second strike was harder this time, on the same place he had hit you last and you cried out louder this time.

“Mm- thank you, daddy. I’m sorry,” you added at the end, stupidly hoping that niceties could get your through this punishment faster.

He spanked you again, this time smacking the untouched cheek, and you moaned at the sharp pain.

“Y’really think sucking up to me now is gonna help you out, sweetheart?” He said mockingly, as if he was reading your mind.

You were slower to answer him, his words taking longer to register as your body tried to numb the pain.

“N-no. And thank you, daddy.” You didn’t want to forget to thank him again, he only ever gave you one warning.

Rafe was clearly enjoying toying with you, you could feel his stiff cock poking against your thigh, further proof no viagra was needed.

After 4 more spanks, your eyes were leaking tears, lip wobbling as you mumbled out appreciations each time he struck your now bright red ass.

“Rafe! Please, I said I’m sorry, okay?! It was-” you hiccuped through tears, “it was just a stupid joke.”

You swore you felt his dick throb against you at the sound of your pleading voice.

He ignored you, however, instead striking your ass three times quickly and rough enough that you almost screamed from the pain and shock.

“Red light! Rafe please,” you sobbed out the safe word that you and Rafe always used, but the sound of him chuckling darkly in response made your blood run cold.

Pain bloomed across your already sore ass again and you whimpered. You were crying heavily now, and you brought your own hand to your mouth to muffle your weeping when he spanked you again.

“Have you learned your fucking lesson?” His stern voice came from above and you nodded immediately.

“Yes daddy, please! I’m so sorry.” You cried desperately.

You winced when you sensed his hand nearing you again, but this time, his thumb slipped between your legs and traced over your barely clothed slit.

You squirmed in his lap as his lazily thumbed your clit over your panties, whining when he applied pressure.

“You’re so fucking pathetic, you know that, kid? Pretty sick of you to be so goddamn drenched for an ‘old man’ like me.” Rafe mocked you, and to your embarrassment, you could feel yourself growing wetter when he slid your panties to the side and slowly pushed his thick middle finger into your slick cunt.

A whimper escaped your lips when he curled his finger inside you, and your hips twitched as you tried to make more friction between the two of you.

“Shut up,” you moaned before he finally started thrusting the digit into you.

“Please, we both know you get off on the fact that your father has no clue his little princess is sleeping with his best friend.” You didn’t have to see him to know the triumphant, jeering smirk he had playing across his lips.

You also didn’t deny what he said, because you couldn’t. No matter how completely fucked up it was, you did find sneaking behind your parents’ back to see an older man to be thrilling in the sickest way possible.

Not to mention how hard you had came on the several occasions the two of you had gotten close to being discovered (every time, his hand had slapped over your mouth to stifle your moans, but he didn’t stop fucking you until he emptied himself into the condom, no matter how high the risk of being caught).

Part of you suspected he was so careless at times because he wanted the two of you to get caught, a thought that was so unbelievable at first that you completely dismissed it, but when two times became three, and then three times became an almost weekly occurrence, you found it hard to deny that he seemed to enjoy putting you in situations where you could be discovered.

You felt him pull his finger out of you before grabbing your waist and flipping you onto your back onto the bed, and you protested as he climbed over you, caging you beneath him with his big, veiny arms.

“How mad do ya think he’d be if I put a baby in you, huh, Y/N?” Your eyes widened as he looked down at you hungrily.

“Rafe-” you said warily, trying to sit up and get out from under him, but the older man easily grabbed your shoulder and pushed you back on the bed.

“I bet he’d kick you out of the house if you got knocked up.” Despite your kicking, his strong hands grabbed the straps of your panties, ripping them past your legs and tossing them behind him.

“But imagine how disappointed with you he’d be if he knew you let me do it,” Rafe chuckled, and more tears formed at your waterline as his words sunk in.

“Stop it, Rafe. I’m serious, this isn’t funny, it’s sick,” you couldn’t stop your voice from wavering as you looked up at him.

When one of his hands locked tight around your wrist, you whimpered, struggling against him to free yourself.

You froze when you felt the head of his thick cock rubbing against your slit, and Rafe’s grip on your wrist tightened as he started to push his tip inside of you.

“Stop fucking moving around, Y/N,” his gruff voice commanded.

Resisting did nothing to help you, and you were almost disgusted by how wet you felt as he forced himself deeper.

Taking all of Rafe’s cock was never a painless process for you, he was so thick it always felt like he was splitting you in half, even more-so now.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as he stretched you out slowly. Rafe groaned when his dick nudged your cervix, dropping his head to your neck and trailing sloppy kisses along the tender skin.

You moaned loudly, tensing at first when his lips found your throat, making the older man curse under his breath when you tightened around him.

“Shit, kid. You feel fucking amazing.” His breath tickled at your neck and you squirmed beneath him as you tried to adjust to the pressure between your legs.

Rafe’s free hand came to your throat, squeezing tight as he tilted his hips back and then slammed into you.

You whined, closing your eyes in surprise, pain outweighing the pleasure at first. His fingers twitched around your throat as he felt your walls grow slicker and he was able to fuck you faster.

Delirious waves of ecstasy clouded your mind, his thick cock stretched you out in a way that made your head spin.

Rafe’s grip on your throat tightened and you reached for his wrist, hoping that his hold on you would relent, but the older man just took it as a sign to rut into you harder.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, losing yourself in the rhythm of his pace, greedily grinding your hips to bring yourself closer to the edge.

When his free hand crept between your legs and his thumb began rubbing circles over your clit, you whined, opening your legs for him more so he could fuck you deeper and massage your clit easier.

“Daddy- I’m- fuck-” you mindlessly babbled between moans, already feeling your mind go blank with each snap of his hips.

“Yeah?” He groaned when he felt you pulse around him. “Gonna cum on this dick like daddy’s good girl?”

Alarm bells should have been sounding in your head, but in the moment, you cared too much about chasing pleasure rather than facing consequences to resist.

So you obeyed him.

You whimpered as you came undone, the wave of pleasure washing over you again and again as the blond pushed his cock into you relentlessly. Your body sagged against the bed, head lolling back as you rode out your orgasm.

Rafe could feel your walls pulsing and constricting around him, squeezing his cock so tight it almost hurt him.

He bit back a curse before reaching one of his strong arms behind your back, staying inside you the entire time as he pulled you up off the bed and onto his lap. Your legs fell to the side of his as he rutted into you from below.

The new position had your quaking thighs squeezing against him, and you wrapped an arm over his shoulder and around his back in an attempt to steady yourself. The change of angle made your head spin and you whimpered in pain as he split you open with his dick.

Rafe’s lips hungrily captured yours and your stomach flipped when he forced his tongue into your mouth, holding your head in place to kiss you deeper as he fucked you up and down on his cock.

When he broke the kiss, you both gasped for air, and you felt his grip on your waist tighten, “Fuck, kid. How’d I get so lucky?”

You couldn’t answer him, so lost in matching the movement of his hips that you couldn’t think about anything else.

His lips found your neck, nipping and kissing the tender skin to pull more moans from you.

“So perfect, sweetheart. M’ gonna fill you up,” he whispered into your throat between kisses.

At his words, you remembered why you had resisted in the first place, eyes widening as you squirmed in his lap. Rafe’s pace only increased as he locked his arm around your waist, pressing you against his bare chest and stopping you from pulling away as he pounded into you.

“Rafe- red light-!” you were cut off when his big hand covered your mouth, and you helplessly squealed against him.

“Shut the fuck up and take it, kid,” he snapped and you felt yourself unconsciously clench around him.

The older man drilled into you, stretching you out with each punishing thrust.

“Fuck- fuck!” He groaned, squeezing you against his chest as his hips stuttered and he came undone inside you.

You whined as you felt his hot seed flood your walls. Trying to get off of him proved fruitless when he held you in place and forced you to milk his cock of every drop.

The sticky feeling of his cum dripping down his cock deep inside of you was inescapable and you shuddered when he lightly bucked his hips to thrust himself up inside you again.

“Still think I need viagra, you fucking brat?”

[bpsmuts]

Day in the Office - Jennie and Rose

Jennie x Rose x Male Reader

Words: 1.697

Summary: You were in the recording studio with your two best friends Jennie and Rose. Bored, Jennie suggests you three play a game of "Never have I ever".

Jennie, Rose, Y/N

"Didn't you say, you wanted to be productive today Jen?" You ask your friend, who had just suggested to play Never have I ever.

Jennie sits over on the couch, with her feet up on the table "Well yeah, but were all have writer's block right now" she responds "And come on, we don't get to spend THAT much time together, plus we've already gotten good progress today" she pouts

"I wouldn't mind playing for a bit, as long as we continue with out actual work later" Rose chimes in from the desk. "You're not scared, are you Y/N?" the kiwi girl mocks you a little.

"What? No! I'm not scared, I just thought you two wanted to be productive, but fuck it, lets play then!" You challenge them as you get up from the chair next to rose and sit down next to Jennie "Who's starting?" You ask into the room

"I'll start" Jennie decides "Rosie, get over here" she orders Rose, who rolls over to the table. All of you put your hand up and Jennie begins the game.

"Never have I everrrr" Jennie thinks for a moment "Uhhh.. gotten a speeding ticket" You and Rose both put a finger down "You have never gotten a speeding ticket Jen?" Rose asks surprised "Of course she hasn't, she is being driven everywhere" You add, taking a shot at Jennie.

"I have driven before..." Jennie tries to defend herself "Okay, my turn" Rose continues "Never have I ever kissed a stranger" to which Jennie and yourself put down a finger "Okay, you two are teaming up on me" You exclaim

"How are we teaming up on you?" Jennie asks while laughing and looking over to Rose "You just are" You retort "Probably cause I wanted to work instead of goof around" I fake your anger "We are not goofing around, were taking a break. Just play your turn" Jennie responds

"Okay. Never have I ever sucked a dick" You grin as both girls put down a finger in shock "Okay, that's unfair" Rosie yells "What?! I'm just evening out the playing field here" you respond to her.

"Okay, next one counts double?" Jennie suggests to the group "Bring it Miss Kim" Rose replies "Never have I ever had sex" Jennie surprised the group as everyone puts down a finger "Now everyone is down to the last one" she smirks

"What happens to the loser?" Rose asks Jennie "Hmmm" she thinks for a bit "How about, the loser has to take their shirt off?" Jennie suggests into the room "Okay Jennie, I don't know if this is very professional" You try and veto the decision but get interrupted by Rose "Done!"

"Okay wait wait wait" You halt the game "This is totally unfair, since its Rose's turn now" You try your hardest to get the rule changed, with no luck "But Jennie could also lose Y/N" Rose remarks "I mean we can change it, if you want to chicken out Y/N" Jennie offers

"No No. Lets do it this way" You accept giving Rose the look to continue the game "Okay. Let me think here" Rose takes a thinker pose, as if she is solving a complex math problem "Okay, Never have I ever had sex with a woman" the kiwi girl grins widely, knowing you lost

You accept defeat and put down your last finger before realizing you were the only person to take one down "Now wait a minute, are you telling me both of you haven't done it with a girl?" You ask visibly confused "Not even with each other like once?" You add

"Ewww" both girls go in unison "Get your head out of the gutter Y/N" Jennie responds "Yeah we have barely even seen each other naked" Rose adds to Jennie's comment "He is probably just upset that he lost" Jennie chuckles to Rose

Still not believe them, you take your punishment as a man and take off your shirt, revealing a muscular physique with a six pack coming through quite visibly. As the room falls silent you see the two girls oogling at your upper body, with Jennie being able to catch herself quite fast.

"Its rude to stare Rosie" You mock Rose, who is still staring at your six pack "Let her be. Six Packs are her thing" Jennie tells you from the side "JENNIE" Rose retorts in embarrassment

"Do you want to touch it?" You offer Rose, who's embarrassment you find cute "Can I actually?" she replies, thinking you are messing with her "If its your thing" You chuckle. Rose gives you a look before getting off her chair and kneeling in front of you, carefully moving her fingers across your six pack

After a bit she looks up at you and quietly asks "C-Can I lick it?" with a big smile on her face "Umm.. I mean yeah, but you have to take your shirt off then too" You negotiate with the sweet kiwi girl

"I'll do you one better then" Rose giggles as she takes off her shirt, revealing her small breasts "Too small for a bra" She giggles as she shows off her chest "Oh wow Rosie, they look amazing" You respond before slowly moving a hand towards her chest, cupping a breast carefully

"Thanks" she responds before slowly licking over your six pack, moving further down towards your crotch. Right as she goes to unbuckle your belt Jennie interrupts the moment "Umm guys... Im still here"

Both you and Rose look over to Jennie, who is just sitting there. Your hand still cupping one of Rosie's breasts and her hand in the middle of unbuckling your belt, Jennie asks "Put a finger down, if you're about to have a threesome?"

Both you and Rose put up your hands before taking one finger down, chuckling. Jennie then moves closer to you and the two of you kiss, as Rose unbuckles your belt. You move your hips upward so Rose can pull down your pants. "Ooohh didn't know you were packing like this Y/N" Rose exclaims in awe as she sees your dick for the first time

"Save some for me Rosie" Jennie tells her as she also removes her shirt, showing off a white lacy bra. As Rose starts to slowly take in your length, your hand wanders from her breasts to Jennie's, cupping both of them as you two kiss.

You cant help but moan, as Rose continues to suck your dick. "Your mouth feels so good Rosie" you encourage the cute girl. Meanwhile Jennie takes off the rest of her clothes, not just revealing her boobs, but also that she wasn't wearing panties.

"What is it with you two and only wearing half a set of underwear" You chuckle. "Rosie doesn't need a bra and well.. I'm just a slut" Jennie answers, pressing her lips onto yours once again.

After a while Jennie breaks the kiss "Okay, my turn" she says to Rose, climbing down from the sofa as Rosie makes way between your legs. "Can I sit on your face Y/N?" Rose asks cutely before being interrupted by Jennie "I have a way better idea" she exclaims

"Y/N! Lay down on the sofa. Then Rosie can ride your face, while I ride you" Jennie suggests "And we can make out" Rose adds, while all three of you get in position.

As Rose climbs onto your face, burying it in her vagina, you can feel Jennie slowly slide down on your dick. You can feel the depth of Jennie's pussy as you grab Rose's ass to make sure the cute kiwi girl doesn't actually suffocate you.

Shortly after, the room is filled with smacking from the lips of Jennie and Rose, as they made out and the smacking of Jennie's pussy lips on your crotch as well as muffled moans from all three of you.

"Yes Y/N, just like that" Rose moans as she breaks her kiss with Jennie before going on to suck her nipples. "You feel so good inside me Y/N" Jennie compliments your dick.

"I'm close, can we switch Jen?" Rose asks in between heavy moans "Just one second baby" Jennie replies as she can feel herself reaching her climax. "JENNIEEE" Rose moans cutely, trying her best to hold her orgasm

Not shortly after that, you can feel Jennie's walls tighten as the Korean moans loudly, before getting off your dick, making space for Chaeyoung. Getting up from your face, you can finally take deep breaths again.

You see Jennie sitting on the floor next to you "That was amazing Y/N" she compliments as you Rose lowers herself onto your dick. You can feel the tight walls of Rose, as she starts to bounce up and down.

Jennie moves over to suck on Rose's nipples, earning even louder moans from her "Oh my god I'm gonna cum I'm gonna cum Y/N!" Rose moans loudly as she also reaches climax.

After she came, Rose also got off and kneeled on the floor next to Jennie. With both girls looking at you, you knew exactly what they wanted. You stood up and positioned yourself in front of them, starting to stroke your dick.

Jennie and Rose look up at you "Cum on us Y/N, Cum on our pretty faces" Jennie encourages you "Please give us all of your cum Y/N" Rose joins in.

You moan as you start to shoot rope after rope on their faces, trying to give both of them an equal amount of your hot cum. After you're done, you look down to two satisfied girls covered in your cum.

"Now for the best part" Rose says, before turning to Jennie and planting some kisses on her mouth. You sit down and watch the girls make out for a bit. "This was so much fun" You exclaim after gathering your breath.

"Definitely" Jennie replies, as she swipes your cum from her cheek into her mouth and swallows it. "Im gonna get us something to clean ourselves up with" Rose says, getting up and walking out of the room.

Author's Note: If you've made it this far, thank you <3

If you want to leave feedback, please either comment or DM me!

[keerysfreckles]

sparks fly — LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: “drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain. kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain” — or when y/n goes to lando's childhood home in england, after her night turned for the worst.

warnings: abusive relationship, cursing, not proofread

a/n: shoutout to pookie nat for finally getting me into taylor 🙏

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n knew from the moment she watched her first rom-com, she would find a love like the movies. how to lose a guy in ten days. thirteen going on thiry. ten things i hate about you. twenty seven dresses.

the list could go on. she was more than positive she'd find someone to love her the same way these fictional men loved their partners.

y/n met her first love during her spring break of her second year of uni. she could've sworn they were meant to be. they had plenty in common. they were studying the same major, both loved hockey, both wanted to study abroad someday, in paris or germany.

she thought it was perfect. until the fairy tale castle started crumbling.

during their third year of uni, y/n noticed patrick changing. he got more focused with his school work, but became more aggressive when y/n was involved.

y/n thought at first it was just the stress from exams coming up. she justified it as everyone's on edge, getting antsy for the year to be done with.

however it only fell downhill. the words of aggression turned into loud yells heard from their shard apartment at late hours. the yelling turned into patrick throwing any item he could find, which soon turned into y/n dodging almost everything patrick threw.

he hasn't hit her yet, which was possibly the only thing keeping y/n in the relationship. she really believed he could change. but as days passed, and his anger only progressed, she wasn't sure the old patrick was still inside.

sure, the man would always try to make it up to her. a million open eneded apologies could only do so much.

on the twenty third of october, that's when shit hit the fan.

"patrick please, just let me go to bed. it's late, we're both angry and not thinking right," y/n tried reasoning with him, knowing her words don't mean a thing to him.

"no, you're going to tell me what you were doing out so late."

y/n only lets out a scoff. it was the same fight almost every time she went out with friends, or simply went to the library to study. patrick never believed her.

"for the last time, i was out with jess. all we did was go shopping," y/n explains again. her own anger starts rising. she feels the bottle inside her shaking, getting ready to explode.

she stands from the couch, walking to their shared room.

"you think you can walk away from me?" patrick quickly follows, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

"what is your problem!" y/n finally shouts, "you never believe me. what do you think i'm doing? cheating on you? how can i do that when you barely let me leave this goddamn apartment?"

y/n's breath heaved. she felt a small pressure release as she finally got the courage to yell at the man standing in front of her.

"who do you think you are?"

as patrick spoke, he stepped closer to y/n. causing her to step back, eventually becoming trapped between the him and the wall.

"who gave you the right to talk to me like that?" patrick seethed, before reaching out and grabbing y/n's wrist.

his grip only tightened when she let out pained sounds, as tears started forming in her eyes.

she tried prying his hand off her wrist with her other one, "let go," she begged.

y/n started kicking. she didn't know where her feet were ending up, but was grateful patrick had started backing away from her movements.

she managed to release her wrist from his hold, and ran towards the bedroom door. grabbing anything she could before leaving the apartment, she was able to grab her phone and her shoes.

patrick tried grabbing at her again, yelling and begging for her to come back. she was still struggoing to slip her shoes on even when she got outside.

y/n swore she still heard patrick's yelling from where she stood.

once she got at least a block away, the tears couldn't help but fall. her vision became fuzzy as she kept walking. she kept tripping over he untied shoe laces, stepping in the puddles from the rain beginning to fall from her sky.

as if the rain was matching y/n's mood.

in the ten minutes she continued to mindlessly walk, y/n couldn't believe how stupid she had been. scolding herself for staying with the man who only made her the worst version of herself.

y/n kept walking, until she seemed to find herself in an all too familiar neighborhood. she couldn't even begin to count the times she's been here.

she tries ridding her tears, knowing its no use as her eyes are probably bright red and puffy.

she begins to knock on the door of the house she knows too well. as her hand leaves the wood, her mind only begins to spiral.

what are you doing? they might not even be home. this could be too much for them to handle. they won't want to see me. they can't do anything–

the sound of locks turning brought y/n back from inside her mind.

cisca stood on the other side of the door, in the warmly lit house. her heart broke at the sight of y/n drenched from the rain, her shoes barely holding onto her feet, and her shaking hands.

"oh darling," cisca starts.

"i didn't know where else to go," y/n's voice shakes as cisca lets her inside. she's gone for a moment, before coming back with a towel for the girl.

"you know you're welcome here any time," cisca brought y/n towards the living room, not caring if the couch gets wet. she can always fix it later.

"you dry off some more, i'll be back with a cup of tea," cisca rubs y/n's arm before leaving for the kitchen. the older woman's mind wanders to all the possibilities for why y/n was at their home at the late hour.

minutes pass and cisca sets the warm cup of tea in y/n's hands, instantly receiving a thank you from her.

cisca gasps slightly at the bruise already forming around y/n's wrist. "sweetheart, what happened?"

she rubs her back as y/n explains everything to the woman. from the point patrick began getting verbally violent, to the events that happened no less then half an hour ago.

cisca couldn't believe her ears. the sweet y/n she knew would never have stayed with someone like that, but cisca hardly knows her at any more. ever since she started uni she rarely comes over to her best friends childhood home.

after pulling y/n into a much needed hug, cisca began setting up the extra bedroom. while y/n stayed on the couch, finishing the cup of tea in her hands.

"hey mom, i heard noise from my room. everything okay?" lando peeks his head into the spare bedroom, instantly confused to why his mother is setting up the bed.

"y/n is out there, and she just needs to be comforted right now, okay? she's had a rough night," cisca explains as lando nods in understanding.

lando walks through the hallway towards the living room, and just like his mother, his heart sinks at the sight of y/n. she's hunched over on the couch, finally getting warmer from being out in the rain.

"i thought i heard noise out here," lando chuckles, hoping a light hearted mood might fix the atmosphere around y/n.

once their eyes meet, he knows one slightly fun comment won't make anything better. he sees her bloodshot eyes, and worried expression.

"oh, baby," the nickname slips through his lips. one he's called her many times in the past.

he kneels in front of her to wrap his arms tightly around her waist, as hers reach for his shoulders.

he didn't know how much comforting she needed, but could only guess it was a lot after she started crying against his shoulder.

he continued to hold her, rubbing his hands up and down her back. his heart started to break once she started shaking in his arms. a mixture from the crying and her body finally letting the stress and anxiety get to her.

"i should've listened to you," y/n mumbled against his shoulder.

lando doesn't respond, knowing exactly what the girl meant.

her grip loosened slightly on his shoulders, now just resting her hands there as she looks at him.

"you were right. he wasn't a good guy. you had a feeling and i should've listened to you," y/n rambles on, knowing lando's been right about patrick since the first time the two men met.

"what did he do?" lando asks, moving his hands to hers. however, his fingers brush over y/n's brusing skin. the action makes her flinch slightly, and lando's heart breaks for the second time that night.

"i shouldn't have come here," y/n states, beginning to shake her head back and forth. "i'm sorry."

"you have nothing to be sorry for, you can stay," lando tries to reason with her.

he continues to try even when he follows her back out in the rain.

"y/n! just come inside!" he runs after her, his socks getting damp from the drying puddles outside. he looks up, the rainfall definitely slowed, but y/n's hair was beginning to get wet again.

"no lando, it's fine. i'll go back there for the night. he's probably calmed down by now."

lando reaches y/n, "you can't possibly want to go back there. he hurt you. you can barely move your wrist because of the bastard."

y/n turned to see lando looking at her, his curls falling slightly from the drizzling rain.

"you can't go back there y/n."

"i've already ruined yours and your mom's night."

lando laughs, "that's the last thing you've done. you and i both know you're more than welcome to stay the night."

after minutes of silence, lando speaks up again while stepping closer to y/n.

"i want you to come inside. i want you to be comfortable and safe."

it's as if a switch went off in y/n's head. a switch she's surprised didn't go off sooner.

seeing lando like this, standing in the rain in front of her. wanting nothing more than to make sure she's protected. something patrick would never have done, during any circumstances.

he watches her eyes flick between his own and his lips.

he lets out a shuddered breath as she simply begins walking closer to him.

"y/n, you went through way too much tonight. i don't want to add to any of your stress."

y/n shakes her head, "lando i've never been more sure of anything."

lando's hands find their way to her waist as she finally steps in front of him.

"take away my pain lando, please. you're the only person who's been here for everything. you're the only one i need. i'm so stupid for not seeing it earlier. i should've never went on that stupid date. i should've listened to you, and– and if i did i would've been here so much sooner."

y/n catches her breath. her heart hammers in her chest waiting for lando's reaction.

tears begin to blur her vision once more, her emotions getting the better of her as lando doesn't respond.

"lan, please say something. you're what i want, not h–"

y/n stumbles back slightly from the impact of lando's lips pushing against hers. her hands hold onto his face, scared that if she let's go, she might just be imagining this.

"please, let me take you back in–"

now y/n cuts off lando's words, making the man laugh into the kiss. the sound and feeling sending shivers up y/n's spine.

lando breaks the kiss, but feels y/n's breath fanning over his lips.

"now can you please come back inside?"

"one more," y/n mumbles against his lips before he has the chance to reject her offer.

[alkaisen]

yuuji pining over shy reader but she turns out to be a freak in the sheets

— blowjob, mentions of 1+ rounds, overstimulated yuuji, cowgirl

— all the characters i write for are aged up and over 18+

★ YUUJI who, during his first meet with you, assumed you were the sweetest girl ever since you were so quiet & polite to everybody.

★ YUUJI who soon becomes fascinated by you since you often kept everything to yourself. he's following you everywhere - making stupid jokes & the one time he hears your laugh (not because of funny it is but because of how lame he sounds) knows he's in love.

★ YUUJI who feels like he's the happiest man alive when the two of you start dating. YUUJI who wants to take things slow because he assumes you're innocent with how shy you are, flustering when he does quite literally anything 'boyfriend-like'.

★ YUUJI who never in his life before had expected you, of all people to be as wild as this, in bed - making him gasp, shudder, moan out loud, fingers twisting into the sheets. you're an absolute menace.

"woah—! god, fuuuckkk." yuuji's panting, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. he wanted to have your back arching, not the other way around. he grunts, brows creasing when he looks down at you, "baby, can we- haaa..! s-slow down, maybe?"

you're situated between his thighs, pushing his legs apart while your mouth absolutely devours his poor cock - the way your tongue swirls around his length has him seeing fucking stars. "mnn," you murmur, shaking your head at him. your muffled voice is sending vibrations from your throat to his cock.

"is this what being in heaven feels-ah!-like?" he gasps absentmindedly, eyes rolling to the back of his head. you grin at that, sucking in your cheeks so it feels even tighter, feels even warmer. " f-fuck! yeah..."

your head bobs up and down, swallowing his cock - giving him the sloppiest, most delicious, drooling blowjob he's ever had the luck of experiencing. yuuji at your expertise, is cumming in seconds and spurting his mess down your throat as he reflexively grabs onto your hair, making you choke on his cock.

it's the same after that, he can't stop cumming. not with the way your gushy walls are gripping onto him.

"haa..! mmmhh-" yuuji's absolutely spent, doesn't know how long it's been, for how many hours the two of you've been fucking - hours? days? weeks? he doesn't know, all he knows is that you've been milking his cock dry. "a bre-break would be nice.."

"hnn?" you look down at him with the same innocent expression you've had all this time, palms flat against his abdomen. everytime you raise your ass in the air, thin stripes of his previous orgasms stick onto your skin - making squelching, obscene noises when you land back down onto his crotch. "mmhh, a break?"

there's a teasing glint in your eyes, a subtle smirk on your lips - you're most confident when you're in bed. "you haven't even passed out once yet."

yuuji exhales shakily, a pathetic and dry laugh making it's way out of his throat. his voice is hoarse from all the moaning he's been doing, "is- is that what you're trying to-ngh!-do, baby? make me, hff.. pass out..?"

ypu raise your hips again, loving it the way his tip presses against your cervix when it comes down.

"ahh, more or less." you moan out.

his eyes are barely open now, he's exhausted and frustrated: "(name) please.. nothing will come out."

you clench around him again, and he jolts up - electric flashes of pleasure running through his veins. "shh," you murmur, "c'mon, you can cum one more time for me, you can give one more load can't you?"

yuuji whines, nodding his head. "ngh, mm'kay.."

you ride him faster now, and no matter how many rounds you've had with him - yuuji still can't seem to get used to it, "you feel so..mmh..fucking good..!"

you lean forwards, your breasts right infront of him and he sucks on a nipple - running his hands up and down your sides. and within seconds he's reaching his high, clinging onto you as you fuck the living daylights out of him; harder and more faster.

white, sticky and hot flashes of cum pools your pussy - but you don't stop, you don't stop when both his and your legs are trembling from how hard you're cumming, not when he's whimpering: "pleasepleasepleaseplease, (name), oh fuck- (name)!"

it's exhilarating and exhausting at the same time. yuuji doesn't know how long you'll keep on going but all he knows is that he'll keep on cumming, keep babbling out your name in pleasure over and over.

© ALKAISEN ⸻ do not copy, redistribute, plagiarise, translate, modify my work(s). i do not own any characters. all rights reserved.

[squirmhoney]

WANT AND WANTING PROLOGUE | 0

Warnings: Dark fic. Non con. Dub con. Violence. Character deaths. Smut. Incest. Angst. 18+ Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Niece! Reader Note: All characters are aged up for the story to make sense. Everything that happens in the series still happens just in different times in their life. Aegon and reader are both 18 in this part which happens before Rhaenyra leaves to go to Dragonstone.

MASTER LIST

//

You knew that look. 

Your mother’s eyes barely able to meet yours, biting at the corner of her lips as she slowly made her way towards you. Her hands reached out towards yours and for a moment she caught them, lips opening to speak before your hands slipped out of hers. 

You struggled to catch yourself, clamping your hand around your mouth to muffle your broken cry. 

“I know this isn’t what you wanted,” Your mother began, trying to reach out for you again. “But I think-” 

The doors of the council room creaked open, drawing both you and your mother’s gaze towards it. 

Adorned in green the Queen stepped out, Ser Cole just behind. Her stern eyes looked over you, and for a second you swore you saw a glimmer of sympathy in that cold gaze, only for her to blink, snapping back to reality as if she almost forgot herself. She stepped away, not uttering a word or another look your way. You didn’t expect any less. After all she was the judge and executioner in your cruel fate.

“Aegon is to marry-” Your mother’s words came out rushed, almost certain you wouldn’t listen. Which was true as you shook your head, taking in shaky breaths, not allowing her to touch you. “-Helaena and you will go to The Vale.” 

“No, no, no,” your voice was racked with sobs, fingers rubbing at the skin around your collarbone and neck. You didn’t want to hear her, you couldn’t hear her. 

“I understand this isn’t how you saw this all happening.” She managed to stop you, hands holding you by your arms to stop you from deterring further from her. “But in time, you will find peace with this.” 

“No, I will not,” you told her, voice harder than before. 

“Yes, you will.” She nodded almost feverishly as if she was trying to convince herself. “In time you’ll forget about this. I swear it.” 

The blood under your skin ran cold at the thought. Your eyes grew wide as you shook your head spitting at your mother, “And what if I refuse?” 

“I am your mother,” she reminded you. 

“And heir to the iron throne, I could never forget it,” you hissed back at her.

She moved her body to cover you, your words gaining the attention of the passers by. 

“Duties and tradition. You preach it as Grandsire preached it to you but where is it now?” You questioned, voice growing. 

Her lips opened and closed, unable to think of what to say. 

“Where is it for me?” You were breaking all over again, lips quivering desperately trying to fight against it. “He was promised to me.” 

Your words are torn from the deepest part of you. One that feels empty and hollow at the thought of being separated from him. 

“To me.” The words scratch your throat, voice deep as you hold your mother. Not even realising how your fingers were digging into the material of her dress. You released your grip immediately, standing upright. It was you that could barely look at her now. 

Even through dealing with your anger, your mother’s gaze remained soft. “Life can seem cruel at times,” she told you in a hushed tone, as if to soothe your woes. “And once I believed it to be awful to me. But I didn’t realise that the hand I was being dealt-” 

“It is not the same.” 

“How is it not?” 

“You are heir to the throne. You were allowed to choose who you were to marry after father’s death.” You pointed at yourself, finger digging into your chest. “I am a princess. I am not in line to the throne. I will never amount to anything but something to the man I marry.” 

“That’s not true,” she tried to reassure you. 

“And now you-” your eyes flickered to the doors of the council. “And everyone else in that room has forbidden me from marrying the man that I want.” 

Your mother closes her eyes for a second, clearly unsure what to say. 

“The man that wants me,” you screamed, unable to stop yourself. 

The lords and ladies stepping through the corridor all looked your way, taking in your drear appearance before bowing their heads away. 

You couldn’t care for the attention you were drawing, for the gossip that would be whispered around these very halls come morrow. How the princess disgraced herself for all to see. They could whisper all their vicious lies, nothing would change what lies ahead of you now. 

Your mother spoke your name, arm reaching to cloak you from all their eyes. But you tore yourself away from her, glaring at her with an anger you had never felt before. 

“He was promised to me,” you screeched. 

Everyone around was starting at you now, their eyes widening at the sight you had created. 

They had all seen you as innocent and pious as the maiden only hours ago. But as they stared at you, it was as if you became something else entirely to their horrified eyes. 

All you could do was suck in a harsh breath, struggling to not let your tears consume you as your eyes flickered between them. 

You were the maiden no more. Maybe you had never been. 

It was always the jester you had played in this cruel game.

//

“No.” 

Aegon snickered, teeth beaming at his mother as he brought the wine to his lips. 

His mother’s stance was unwavering, hands clasped in front of her as just stared at him. It wasn’t her usual disapproving stare, the one full of disgust, eyes wide full of horror. Instead her lips stayed in a thin line as if this was a battle she had already won. 

“Your father made a grave mistake ever betrothing you to her,” Alicent told him, taking steps closer to her. “You will marry your sister and strengthen your claim as a true Targaryen.” 

“No,” Aegon repeated, all amusement gone from his tone. 

“I have already made the arrangements for it,” She said, waving him off. “The council knows-” 

“Father betrothed us,” Aegon argued, eyebrows furrowing as the news started to sink in. 

“In his sickness but the hand and I have made the decision to end the betrothal. It is best for everyone-” 

“It is not for me.” 

“I will not have you marry that whore’s daughter,” Alicent snapped, chest heaving as she tried to settle herself. 

“You are completely driven to ruin any sort of happiness for me,” Aegon retorted, eyes growing wet. “All I have done for you and father is try. All I ask is for is this one thing and I will do as you say.”

Alicent turned away, rolling her eyes at the emotion pouring from her son. 

“I swear it.” His voice comes broken and small, pleading with his mother. 

He’d swear it to the seven if he had to, the old gods and the new. Your all he’s ever wanted and desired. The only thing to him that has ever felt good and right. You had been sworn to him all these years, how was it fair for you to be ripped away?

“You do not understand the dangers it would put us in. To have you married to her would mean you could be under your sister’s control,” her voice became shaky, tears rising from the back of her throat. “You’d be vulnerable and once your father dies, there would be nothing I could do to stop her.” 

“Stop her from what?” He questioned, stepping closer to his mother. He hummed again, growing impatient for a response. 

“You know that her sons are bastards,” Alicent hissed at her son. 

“But Y/N-” he tried to defend. 

“No one can know for sure. With the claims already against Rhaenyra about her sons, no one can be sure,” she shook her head. “By association alone.” 

Aegon felt his stomach drop, tasting the bile in the back of his mouth. The room suddenly felt like his head was spinning, a deep rooted rage building inside of him as he listened to his mother spout her tales. 

“To put herself and her son on the throne, she will have to destroy any threat to her claim.” Alicent cupped the side of his face, but the image of her became blurry as tears clouded Aegon’s vision. “You know this.” 

He couldn’t hear any more of it, making his way towards the door not completely sure of where he was about to go or what he was about to do. 

“I forbid you from seeing her,” Alicent shouted, as he stormed past her. “The guards are under strict orders to not let you anywhere near her. Especially alone.” 

“Aegon!” She continued to scream. “Nothing can change this.” 

-

Aegon could hear his mother’s nagging voice in the back of his mind as he walked the halls of the red keep. No matter how much he wanted to believe it not to be true, it was. 

But to Aegon there was still a slight chance to change fate. He just needed one moment alone with you, he knew he could set things right. 

His legs moved on their own accord, taking him to exactly where he knew you’d be, with Ser Arryk one step behind him. He was glad for the Kingsguard assigned to him at present, knowing his loyalty to him and his family. He knew that you’d have your own Kingsguard nearby, only with luck and Ser Arryk was Aegon able to sneak into the sept without being noticed. 

There you were, upon the feet of the mother. Only you weren’t in your usual position, eyes closed as you silently prayed. 

Instead you were sat upon your knees, wet eyes staring up at the statue above you. There was a hopelessness to your sullen face, a pout on your lips that Aegon feared he wouldn’t be able to shake. 

“No prayers today?” 

The voice breaks you from your trance, eyes falling to the candles in front of you, too afraid to meet him. 

You knew the sight of his tear stained cheeks and trembling lips would have your resolve crumbling. You didn’t know what you’d do. How reckless you might act. 

“I don’t believe she is listening to me,” you said, biting at the inside of your mouth as you tried to keep your tears at bay. “Either that or she does not care for my prayers.” 

You sucked in a harsh breath, tears spilling down your face as you felt him get closer. You tried to cover your face for a second, to take a few deep breaths but nothing seemed to ease the crushing pain in your chest. 

“I-I um…” you struggled on your words, a whimper falling from your lips. “I must have done something to offend them.” 

“Look at me,” he said, voice strained. 

You shook your head, fingers resting on your temple as you tried to cover your face. 

Then he whispered your name, his soothing voice taking a hold of you as you turned to look at him. 

You reached out towards him, lifting your hand up towards him as you waited for him to step closer. He didn’t need any more instruction, dropping his face into the palm of your hand while he knelt on the floor beside you. 

He was the picture of a broken man, reddened skin under his eyes, tears kissing his cheeks as he clenched his jaw. All you wanted was to take his pain away, to kiss every tear away. 

“Mother is sending me to the Eyrie,” you confessed, not thinking of the words before they left your mouth. “She thinks it will do me some good to learn from Lady Jeyne Arryn.” 

“I believe if she could have found someone to take you past the wall, she would have,” Aegon spat, looking away from you. 

“That is one thing we can agree on.” 

Aegon shifted, lifting his head to rest it against yours. One of his hands found the back of your hair, fingers intertwining with your locks, while his other hand rested against your collar bone, gently caressing the column of your neck. 

You swore you could feel his anger seeping out of his skin and into yours, just as you could feel his tears painting your cheeks. 

“We could leave,” Aegon stated, voice quiet in the vast room.

“What?” Your eyes widened ever so slightly, not sure of what you were hearing. 

“We could escape.” His voice croaked, heavy with tears that you both shared. “There are ships going to essos all the time, I can plan it and get us on. Far away from Westeros where no one will know our names.” 

“You can’t be serious.” Your voice was barely a whisper, scared to deny yourself of this fantasy. 

“I know someone that can get us through the tunnels that run through the walls. We would need to act fast.” He made it seem so simple.

“Aegon, we can’t leave.” Your eyes locked with his as you ran your fingers through the back of his hair. 

“Why not?” 

“Our-our duty.” You fumbled on your words, feeling yourself repeating your mother. 

“What duty?” He questioned, lips trembling at this. “Your mother will be queen once my father passes. I have no duty here and neither do you. Unless you think the Eyrie is duty.” 

“Our family.” 

“The one that’d rather us both be miserable than allow us to be wed. What sort of family is that?” 

He was seething, ready to curse the lot of them. You believed that if he had been a religious man he would have prayed for their downfall to the stranger. 

“They spent our whole lives telling us we were to be betrothed and we became this way because of it. Completely attached to one another.” His hand tightened in your hair as you leaned back slightly, not allowing you space from him. “Now they expect us to be joyous at the idea of us being separated for eternity.” 

“Aegon,” you whispered in a warning. But it wasn’t heard as your lips almost brushed against his. 

“Eternity, do you not get that? I can’t be separated from you for more than a day.” 

“We still have the afterlife-” 

“Fuck the faith and fuck the old gods,” He cut you off, voice growing louder. “What if there is no after? I want you in this life. I need you in this life. Damn the prospect of being brought back together in death.” 

You felt his heated words against your skin, eyes slipping closed for a second as you allowed yourself to believe this fantasy.  

“Where would we go? What would we do?” You asked, opening your eyes to look upon him again. 

“We’d figure it out.” 

“I’m terrified,” you confessed. “I don’t want to lose you.” 

“You won’t have to,” he promised, brushing his nose against yours.  “We can leave together.” 

You could feel him inching closer, chests pressed against each other as he tightened his grip on you. 

You had never been this close and this intimate before. You had never allowed yourselves. 

And only to distract yourself from the heat it caused in your chest you spoke once more, “I’d never see my brothers again or my mother. I’d-.” 

“You’d have me.” 

You felt his words on your lips, soothing the pain that sat on your chest, only for the touch of his breath to make you lose yours all together. 

You believed it to be you who closed the remaining distance, lips grazing his, unsure of what to do. Aegon caught your lips in between his, kissing you back and guiding you in what you needed to do. His lips were soft and plumper than you realised, easing you into it. But the gentle kiss didn't last for long, Aegon taking your moment of air to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

He left you forced to breathe through your nose, unable to stop his hunger from taking what he wanted. You hummed into him as his hands had a mind of his own, trailing to your sides as they grabbed at you. 

You pushed him away at this, trying to stop him from taking it any further but as he allowed you breath, his lips sunk down further. 

“Aegon,” you warnend, trying to find the strength to push him away. 

“You’re all I want,” he professed into the subtle of your neck, licking at all the open skin. 

It had your stomach swirling, torn between pushing him away and letting him ruin you for all to bare. 

It was only when Aegon’s teeth grazed at the top of your breast did you find it in you to snap at him. 

“Aegon.” 

He stopped, moving back. In the light you saw his darkened eyes properly, still glazed over as his gaze lifted to yours. 

Your lips opened to speak but you didn't know what to say, mind fogged from the touch of him.

“Come with me.” He commanded in a quiet voice, hands grabbing onto your arms.

“What if I say no?” You asked.

“You’d say no to me?” He seemed taken back, eyes squinting at you.

“It’s not that I don’t want to go.” You needed time to think. The one thing you knew you didn't have. 

“You’d leave me here.” 

“No, that's not what I mean.” Your tears came rushing back as you shook your head feverishly. 

“Choose me.” His tone was between begging and commanding as he spoke to you. He was lost in his emotions allowing them to consume him as his grip on your arms tightened. 

“Aegon,” you winced. 

“Be with me.” He was desperate, holding onto you as if he was content in breaking you. As long as it meant keeping you near.

“You’re hurting me,” you cried, hands trying to pry his forearms for some release. 

“I’ve only ever wanted you.” 

“Aegon, please.” 

Your words overlapped as you both spoke, both of you pleading at the other to listen to their words. 

“My prince.” 

Neither of you had heard the door to the sept open, not Ser Cole’s heavy footsteps entering the room. Yet there he stood over the both of you. 

“Criston,” Aegon hissed, releasing his grip but still keeping your hands on your arms. 

“Your mother has asked me to escort you back to your chambers.” Ser Cole looked straight past you, keeping his main focus on Aegon as if you were not there. 

“And what if I say no,” Aegon snickered as if this was all a game to him.

“The Queen has commanded me to take you to your chambers at once. There are other members of the Kingsguard waiting outside.” 

“This is ridiculous.” Aegon huffed, stepping up. 

Your hands tried to reach him, to pull him back to you as fear seeped in, calling his name. 

“You’ve made your decision,” Aegon told you, pulling himself away. 

His words ran cold through your skin. Both you taking one final look at each other. While your saddened expression was clear as day, you could barely read Aegon's face. All you knew was that it would be that same expression that would haunt you for years to come, your mind still trying to understand any part of the way he so easily stepped out of the Sept that day. 

//

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor au anthology

MDNI | Poly 141 x Fem Fat Reader

New Girl

You stare up at the sign reading ONE - FOUR - ONE in old English font. It’s an old building, all brick and stuffed in between several others. The windows have a thin, semi-opaque cover them to let in the light without allowing you to see inside.

You make your way to the front door, trying the handle and feeling stupid the moment you do. Your eyes connect with a small intercom beside you and you press it. There’s a small buzz, then silence.

A few beats go by, you debate pressing it again. You don’t want to be too insistent.

“Hello?” A voice comes through just before you reach up to press again.

“I, uh…” You stutter. Despite having many, many tattoos you somehow still feel like a poser every time you enter a new studio. “I have an appointment at one? With John?”

The man on the other side confirms your name before buzzing you in, the door letting out a loud click before you step inside. It both makes you more nervous and more relaxed - you can appreciate a closed storefront like that. Especially for something often as private as tattoos and piercings, but it still feels like you’re doing something wrong. Just a little bit.

The front room is lovely, though. The texture over the glass bathes the front room in a calm, iridescent light. There are a few waiting chairs, a low, black table piled high with books of flash. The front of the high counter is covered with posters and stickers from events going all the way back to the 90s.

The pretty man behind the counter repeats your name absently, obviously thinking about other things. Probably the half-finished design that sits abandoned on the iPad next to the appointment book he’s staring down at. You just nod in agreement.

“I’ll let John know you’re here.” He nods back, turning and pushing through a pair of saloon style doors to disappear down the hall. You take the time he’s gone to look around, flipping through yet another small book of designs on top of the counter. They’re good. Unique. Very gothic and interestingly detailed. Somehow both fine and bold simultaneously.

“Afternoon.” You jump, snapping the book shut and looking up to meet a pair of soft blue eyes and an easy smile. He looks you over briefly before extending his hand. “John Price.”

You murmur your name quietly, trying very hard to not stare at the incredible traditional work patched into a sleeve up his strong arm. Damn.

He leads you back to his work station - past a piercing studio and across from another room with the door shut and an IN SESSION sign on the door. The dull, buzzing sound of a tattoo machine drifts through.

“Now,” John says as he cuts down the extra paper around the stencil. “Just remember if you don’t like the placement we can move it. No problem.”

“Okay.” You nod, appreciative that he mentioned it. Sometimes these older men in the industry are gruff and have an attitude if you do anything less than treat them as if they are anything other than Absolutely Right and Perfect. Not that John came off that way. There’s a softness in his affect that relaxes your muscles and leaves you breathing easy.

“I know y’have several but I’m still going t’do a line and then see how you feel.” He murmurs, voice low.

It’s sweet, the way he’s walking you through it all despite the piece being small and you obviously having done with process several times. The sting of the needle is as expected and you murmur that it was fine before he really gets to work.

“Just let me know if y’need a break…” He mumbles, voice dipping even lower as he concentrates on his work. In any other situation that rumble would probably have you squirming in your seat. There’s a silence for a while before he speaks again, almost as if he forgot you were there. “This design have any significance?”

“I just wanted to get a new tattoo in my new hometown.” You snort - now at the point where most of your tattoos fall under the ‘because it’s cool’ category. “Probably stupid, seeing as I don’t have a job yet but… I don’t know. Feels like good luck.”

John grins. “Well then, thanks f’lettin’ me be your good luck charm.”

Your face heats at the rumble in his voice - glancing away nervously.

There’s another lapse of silence while he works, the only words exchanged are when he asks if you need a break and you decline. Eventually, toward the end you think, he asks another question. “What brought y’here then? If not a job?”

You would shrug, but you try to keep as still as possible while he works. “Just needed a change. Found an apartment easy enough - now I just need a way to make money.”

He hums in agreement. “What do you have experience in? Been around here a while - might be able to recommend somethin’.”

“Oh! Thank you!” You brighten up. “Receptionist work, mostly. Some admin assistant stuff.”

He pauses, cocking an eyebrow. “Y’know, we’re hirin’ right now.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head. “I don’t have, like, a resume with me.”

“You’ve got enough tattoos I’m assumin’ you know how the industry works. My apprentice is going to start actually tattooin’ soon, an’ I hate t’ have him still pickin up extra duties at the front.” He sits back, carefully smoothing saniderm onto your arm before turning and reaching for the ink-stained sketchbook behind him. “Tell y’what, you write down a few references for me and your number. If they’ve got good things t’ say we can do a trial period.”

You blink at him. He’s awful forward, and insistent, but you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. A temp job is better than no job. “Alright…”

Just like that, you gained employment by way of making a stupid financial decision.

John’s an incredible boss. He pays fairly (generously, but you know better than to accidentally negotiate your pay down). He gives you plenty of hours and trains you well - with the help of his apprentice. He doesn’t get annoyed when you ask questions, seeming content with your determination to do your job to the best of your abilities. The shop goes by appointment only - no walk ins and potential customers have to call to book. John keeps things old fashioned like that. All pen and paper and cash transactions. An ATM sits in the waiting area. The most complicated part of your job is changing out the cash box in it, and that only take a few days to learn. Not that you mind, it’s sort of refreshing to not deal with some fuckass new and “improved” register and appointment system.

Turns out part of the reason they operate in such a way (other than preference) is because John is a big name in the tattoo world. You hadn’t realized until he pointed out a couple of your flash tattoos were from his best-selling book of designs.

“Wait, you’re famous!?” You gasp, staring wide eyed at the old binder of newspaper clippings and book sales. ‘My Mum Wasn’t Impressed At First - Now Even She Has One’ reads the title of one of the older clippings - yellowed with age. John lacks his signature beard in the photo. It almost looks wrong.

John chuckles, crossing his arms and leaning back in his rolling chair. “You could say that. You really didn’t know about our shop before you booked?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I just saw y’all get recommended on Reddit.”

He barks out a laugh at that. It’s a low, pleased sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His beard only emphasizes the apples of his cheeks as he smiles. Yeah, that’s the other thing, having a hot boss is kind of fire.

Plus, he’s not the only one. The whole studio is full of hunks.

Kyle is easily the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. Like, run for Miss Universe pretty. Big doe eyes with a little scar on his cheekbone - small golden hoops glitter from both his earlobes. They frame his face so well, creating a perfect diamond from them to his sparkling eyes to his pretty smile; curled and genuine with perfect teeth. He walks you through the booking process step by step, that first day, a warm hand on your back and the other tracing down the columns of the physical appointment book.

His work is as beautiful as he is. At least, the ones done on fake skin. John hasn’t let him tattoo anyone for real yet - but his practice sketches are immaculate. At least to a layman. Kyle himself never seems quite satisfied with them. He gets such vivid color, though.

“Tattooing darker skin is an art form in and of itself.” He murmurs as he works on a piece of very dark fake skin. “I want people like me t’ be able t’ get exactly what they want, with just as much color as they want.”

You nod along, sipping at your coffee from across the street that you’ve taken up stopping at every day before work. Kyle has so much passion for the industry. The look he gets in his eyes while talking about it or designing a new piece makes your heart flutter.

Simon, the other resident artist, you’re the least familiar with. You can’t quite decide how to feel about him, or decipher how he feels about you. John introduced you a couple days after you started, but all you got was a perfunctory nod and a ‘good luck’. You couldn’t help but feel starstruck, despite his blunt nature. Both thick arms covered in full, detailed sleeves. High quality, ornate black work. A man of stature - six feet and some change with a breadth that a barn would envy. Pretty, blonde hair cropped just short of turning to curls and dark eyes that bore through you to the very core.

Sometimes, when he comes to ask about his next appointment, you let yourself indulge in the fantasy that he stands close because he likes you. That his knee briefly knocks against yours because he wants to touch you - not that you’re crazy enough to believe it. Just crazy enough to be a tiny bit delusional for the fun of it.

You meet their resident piercer on the weekend. Apparently, he’d been away visiting family your first week.

He leans up over the counter, grinning at you from ear to ear. A well-built man only a few inches shorter than the others with a perfectly groomed mohawk. “Well, hello there. Aren’t you a bonnie little thing?”

You frown, hackles raising instinctually. “Uh, can I help you?”

“Och, they dinnae tell ye about me yet? I’m hurt.” He pouts, thick brows emphasizing the puppy like nature of his blue eyes.

“Let her be, Soap.” Kyle sighs heavily, walking to his area of the front with a fresh sketchbook.

“Soap?” You repeat.

“Aye. Cause apparently I need my mouth washed out.” He pokes his tongue out, only to reveal a silver piercing. He holds a hand over the counter. “Johnny MacTavish.”

Johnny is the most egregious man you have ever met - always touching you in one way or another when he checks in about appointments and so on. His Scottish brogue rings in your ears, every word loud and confident. A hand finds it’s way around your waist, a finger poking under the band of whatever bottoms you wear that day. At any other job, you would have considered it harassment and tore him a new one.

Johnny’s different, though. If you shrug him off he steps away, if you flinch he pulls back. Plus, he does it to everyone else just as much as you. More, if you’re honest. If Simon is within arms reach they’re touching. You noticed Johnny pushing a hand under his shirt at one point, grabbing at the soft layer over Simon’s abs. (A great view for you, frankly.) Hell, you saw him casually hold Kyle’s hand while they were talking over lunch. Even John isn’t immune to the clinging. You don’t think much of it. Body modding attracts all sorts of people. If Johnny’s just a touchy guy then he’s just touchy. Besides, you don’t mind that much when he slips an arm around your waist or hooks his chin on your shoulder to talk to you. Warm breath tracing the shell of your ear with a quiet ‘bonnie lass’ punctuating ever other sentence. A slight pinch to your hip before he trots away to set up his station.

You feel nauseous when your trial month ends. John sits you down across from him in the back office. A practical space with not much more in it than a desk, computer and the large safe. None of you spend much time back here outside of counting down the cash and dragging the trash bags through the back door to the dumpster.

“Think you’ve done really well, dove.” He grins. You try to ignore the way the pet name looks warmth in your lower belly. “You’ve picked up quickly, you’re good on the phone. Kyle’s been very happy about the extra time to practice.”

You let out the biggest, most relieved sigh of your life, shoulders slumping slightly.

“You don’t seem to mind Johnny, but if he gets to be too much let me or Simon know, yeah? He means well but he can be… well, you know.” John says absently as he reaches for something across the desk. “How are you feelin’?”

You nod. “I, uh, feel good. I like this position a lot. Everyone’s been very welcoming.”

John nods along. “Good, good. I see no reason to not hire you on full time. Here.”

You hold put your hands as John drops a small, silver key into them. Holy shit! You get your own key! Up until now they’d been buzzing you in, but they’re trusting you with your very own key!

John must see the excitement on your face because he chuckles and extends a hand. “Welcome aboard, kid.”

A/N: I was very wine drunk writing most of this and it has next to no editing but I hope you enjoyed it! I just want something I can write that’s episodic and not as serious/brain heavy as Fancy or Across the Way

[hawkinsbnbg]

Fuckboy Eddie and his heart-stealer Steve

Eddie who never did relationships because he thought he wasn't made for them, and Steve who was used to people falling in love with him and blamed him for breaking their hearts when he didn't reciprocate their feelings.

Somehow, they met, hooked up twice, and struck a deal: fun time only with no strings attached.

After months of fooling around, talking, and sharing tender moments together, Eddie was forced to accept that he was head over ass for Steve Harrington—the very man he had sworn up and down to not fall in love with.

At first, Eddie wanted to deny it, to scoff at the absurdity. Although Steve was his type: pretty, bitchy, funny, and kind-hearted, the man was also everything he stood against: preppy, vain, and oblivious.

And yet, the more he got to know Steve, the more endeared he was to Steve's 'less attractive' sides. It caused him to reevaluate his entire personal doctrine and wonder if he really ever found Steve unattractive at all.

The answer was a big 'No' glaring back at him like a bad joke, leaving him no place to be in denial.

Meanwhile, Steve also realized the subtle changes in Eddie. The longing looks, the lingering touches, the carnal desire in between kisses, the mindless affectionate gestures, and the fond smiles Eddie would give him when he said or did something silly.

Steve should've felt relieved that their feelings were mutual, but he panicked instead. Because what if Eddie only liked the idea of him? What if Eddie regretted catching feelings for him after seeing his real self? Pathetic and not worthy of love?

What if he fucked this all up and made Eddie hate him like many other people in the past? What then?

For the first time, Steve was unsure of his situation. He couldn't afford to lose Eddie by ending things between them, or admit his feelings to the other man unless he wanted to break his own heart.

In the end, he chose to say nothing, to keep up his façade, pretend that he didn't see the yearning in Eddie's eyes and knew he was never brave enough to take that one step.

However, Steve had underestimated one thing—Eddie's obsession with him.

"I love you," hot lips planted on his ear as his ass was plowed from behind.

Bracing his hands on the headboard, Steve choked on his breath, not trusting himself to hear it right. He was about to ignore it when Eddie started talking again.

"You don't have to say it back. Gonna wait for you however long it takes," Eddie let out a low groan when Steve clenched down suddenly.

The pace was picked up, each thrust was aimed precisely at Steve's prostate, strong arms kept his shaking body stay upright, sturdy chest pressed flush against his back, warm breath tickled his clammy skin as the husky voice whispered in his ear again.

"Yeah, s'a promise, sweetheart. Gonna follow you til the end of the world. Gonna be your ghost and shadow. Gonna stay w'you even in death,” sharp teeth sank into soft flesh, wanting to draw blood and leave marks behind. "We'll be buried in the same coffin and corroded together. Intermingled until we become one."

It was unsettling how both insane and lovesick Eddie sounded. Even in the haze of his arousal, Steve could feel himself tremble, could hear himself moan brokenly at the stinging pain and the heady sensation that zipped down his spine.

It's him! Steve’s heart sang, soaring and dancing merrily.

He knew he had found his one. The person who would love him without holding back.

“Then make me yours,” Steve craned his neck to meet those dark wild eyes. “Keep me, brand me.”

There was no pause or hesitation when a hand came up and wrapped around his throat like a collar.

“Mine,” Eddie growled and tightened his fingers further, hips pistoning without restraint, driving himself deeper and deeper into the constricting heat.

Steve’s eyes rolled back, mouth dropped open, and tongue lolled out. Spit and drool dribbled down his chin as he gasped for air, holding onto the headboard for dear life as Eddie pounded into him in earnest.

Whatever came afterward had passed in a blur, Steve was too out of it to remember much else besides the endless pleasure that kept crashing over him, overwhelming and intoxicant.

By the time they were done, he was an incoherent mess, unable to think straight or even move a limb.

Eddie didn't seem to mind, though. The man had cleaned him up efficiently in their joined shower, put him in comfy pjs, ordered his favorite takeouts, and hand-fed him until he was drowsy from fullness. All the while giving him small kisses, telling him sweet promises and things that were too good to be true.

As he slowly drifted off in Eddie’s arms, he knew they still had so much to discuss the next time they woke up with clearer minds and calmer hearts.

But for now, Steve was content to let his boyfriend take care of him, knowing he was in good hands.

[chaewonshoney]

FUMIGATED KISSES.

SUM. reaction to you trying the spray trend on them.

엔하이픈 형선 ˖ fem!reader ⭒ cw: skinship &. kissing. ( 760 ) LIBRARY. genre: fluff, est. relationship.

a/n: sorry for the half assed super late work, ik it's not my best work and i hope i’ll be able to do better next time

이희승

“Babe! Can you come here for a second?” when you call out for him by his name all of sudden in the bathroom, and he’s there in an instant, ready to serve you in any way you require. He almost comes rushing to you, asking, “Yes, Love? Is anything wrong?” “Ah, I got this spray that says unscented but there's definitely a smell I swear!” As he leans in to get a whiff of the scent, your lips touch his all unannounced, and you couldn't help but let out a giggle, swiftly pulling back. He’s caught off guard initially, but melting right into the unexpected kiss. However he attempts to play it cool, trying to hide his surprise with a smirk as he leans down to capture your lips again, this time with a deeper kiss, pulling you closer by your waist, effectively silencing you. “It isn't unscented, by the way. They lied to you, sweetie,” his breath warm against your ear, and whispers softly, your heart flutters in response, a rush of warmth spreading through your body, leaving you feeling both flustered and delighted.

박종성

As you make your way to the kitchen with the spray bottle in hand, you call out for him, desperate for his attention. He immediately responds, turning to face you, and upon your approach to the kitchen counter where he stands, you start to explain, “Babe, this spray is supposed to be unscented, but I'm sure it has a scent. Can you also check if it does or not?” Curious and perplexed, he leans down to inhale the fragrance, and just then, you lean in and brush your lips against his with a cheeky smile, like a secret victory. Confused at first, he soon would melt in the unexpected gesture, realizing your playfulness. He grins from ear to ear, unable to hide his affection, and draw you closer into his embrace. Ruffling your hair, he would murmur, “You don't have to make excuses to kiss me, honey. You know that, right?” Before you can respond, he'd capture your lips in a warm and tender kiss, enveloping you in his love.

심재윤

You make your way to the living room, frustration etched on your face, and call out to him with a bit of attitude, “BABE!!!” Startled, he quickly held his hand up in surrender, “Who, what, when- I didn't do anything, trust.” You wave him off, saying, “Oh, don't worry, it's not about that. Can you come here? This spray I bought said it's unscented, but I'm sure it has a scent!” As he leans down to smell the fragrance, you slyly look up at him and press your lips against his, hoping to catch him off guard. However, to your surprise, he not only catches on to your little trick but also pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. When he finally breaks the kiss, he grins at you with a smirk and kisses your cheeks, saying, “You really thought I wouldn't know what you're up to, didn't you, darling?” Feeling both embarrassed and flustered in his arms, you smack his chest, “It’s not my fault that you're chronically online! You were supposed to act surprised at the least!” Laughing, he tugs you close, “Ah… don't get mad, baby, give me another chance I'll pretend to be surprised like you want.”

빅성훈

"Honey, can you check if this spray has a scent or not?" you ask, holding the spray in hand. He bends down to take a sniff, anticipating the fragrance, when unexpectedly you lean in and plant a kiss on his lips. He freezes in place. Man is shocked, flustered, excited and confused. His eyes dart around the room before he clears his throat and softly mutters, "What was that...?” This unexpected attack has left him speechless, and your laughter rings through the air, “Did you like that, babe?” He takes a moment to process your question, his gaze wandering everywhere before he responds, “Can you do that again? I didn't quite catch it…” You laugh, setting the spray to diffuse the fragrance, and he leans in again, pretending to sniff the scent, but instead, he captures your lips in a gentle kiss. As he pulls away, he smiles, answering your previous question, “Yes, love, I did like it.”

The tables have turned, and you find yourself flustered this time, but he takes advantage of this moment, pulling you closer and whispering, “I hope you won’t be using that spray as an excuse everytime you want to kiss me…”

permanent taglist:

@en-gelic @jwsdoll @hannieberrie

networks:

@/k-labels @/enchive

(send an ask or reply to be added)

©chaewonshoney, 2024. All rights reserved. Reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated!<3

[sunrisesfromthewest]

First Encounter Part 3

|Notes:Y’all boy getting a little jealous and my man Reggie did his thing💓💓,Things get a little more steamy in part 4😏😏 |Warnings:None |

______________________

Wanting to clear your mind from the previous interaction with Armando, you walk over to Dorn who is scrolling through files on his computer hoping to find something for the situation. Pushing his head playful you asked if he had any luck yet, while stealing a folder to look through. "No, I found a few emails and a file but nothing that could lead us to who is doing this,” he says sighing.  

Giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, you say, "Don't stress yourself to much over this, I'm sure something will pop up eventually.” Turning in his chair he looks up at you, with a boyish grin.

Screwing your eyebrows together you say “What?", setting the file you were going threw down. "Y/N, I can’t stop thinking about how fast you dropped to the ground earlier," pausing to laugh he continues, "that's the fastest I seen you move besides running from bugs." Watching him laugh about the incident from earlier, you smack your lips and push at his head again.  

"You know good and well you would’ve drop like I did too; I’ll be damned if I let a bullet take me out." Seeing him really start to tear up, while laughing, you watch as he holds his stomach doubling over.”Aye, not too much asshole!” you say chuckling a bit at his reaction. Sitting up he grabs your arm trying to regain his previous composure but failing when you give him a deadpan look. 

Continue to watch your friend have his little laughing session, you smile to yourself at his goofiness. As your about to scold him some more, you're abruptly interrupted by Armando who cuts into you and Dorns space. Forcing you two to break apart, to make room for him as he rudely asks Dorn to pull up a photo for him.  

Seeing his jaw flex, he sends you an intense glance, but looks back at the screen as Dorn zooms in on the photo. Glaring at him you say "Well, that was fucking rude, you could’ve asked nicely." Dorn hums in agreement. 

“Lo que sea que digas princesa,(Whatever you say princess)” Armando says brown eyes staying locked on the screen. Pausing you scan over his form trying to figure out why he had an attitude all the sudden. Letting out a gasp, you begin to laugh, realizing that he was jealous of Dorn.  

Glancing behind Armando muscled form to look at Dorn you see him shoot you a look with a smug smile confirming what you're thinking. Shaking your head you move closer, pressing your chest against Armandos toned arms, and whisper, "Don’t worry he’s with Kelly, ". Watching as he turns his face in your direction, pretty brown eyes glancing down at your breast. 

 He firmly whispers back, "I know, he needs to keep it that way." Biting your lip you smile, at his small show of dominance, his gaze returns back to the screen. 

Unconsciously, you stay close to his warm figure, as he leans forward, eyes evaluating the photo before he says “I seen this guy before...... can you do a facial scan." Hearing this Mike, Marcus, and Kelly make their way towards you guys watching each screen as loads of information begins to pop up. 

 "His name is James McGrath, looks like he was a former DEA Agent until he was tortured by the Cartel...... Captain Conrad mentions him a few times on some of his notes.” Pausing Dorn looks up, waiting to see what his superiors might have to say.  

"This has to be him he's the only with connections to the Cartel, it could be why he has been able to pull all these stunts......” pausing in realization Marcus ask if he could pull up the surveillance at his home, looking at your father with surprise you asked why.  

But before he could answer Mike cuts in and say, "Because were the only one that has proof that the Captain is innocent and he needs leverage." glancing at his son Mike pulls out his phone calling his wife. Widening your eyes in shock you quickly run to the couch to grab your phone, immediately dialing your sister.  

Bouncing slightly as you hear the phone ring for the third time, you yell to tell your father that she’s not picking up. Watching your father call Reggie with urgency, you look up to see Armando watching with concern. Hanging up you let out a frustrated sigh returning back to where everyone was viewing the monitors intensely. 

Shaking from nerves you feel Armando brush his hands against yours, staring up at him you see worry in his eyes. Wrapping your hand around his he gives it a light squeeze, trying to calm you down. Just as Dorn alerts everyone that theirs movement outside the home you hear Reggie pick up. As your father explains the situation quickly, Reggie springs into action, moving your mom, nephew, and pregnant sister to the pantry. 

 Watching him reach up to retrieve the gun that's stored in their as well, you watch in amazement as your brother-in-law kick ass.”Damn,I didn’t know he could do that.” your dad mutters shocked. Everyone lets out a few comments in agreement. Watching Reggie causally body 15 attackers, had your blood rushing in adrenaline. After confirming that the house was safe, he quickly moved the family out the house but not before saluting at the camera. 

“Yeah, baby that’s how we do it in the Burnett family! "You say hugging Armando with relief and excitement after what you just witness. Standing in shock Armando moves to embrace you as well, but looks up to see everyone watching you two like a hawk. Clearing his throat, he watches you look up at him confused, nodding his head to the side you see everyone staring. 

Breaking away from him you avoid their gazes sheepishly saying sorry. 

Before anyone could comment Mike asked Dorn to pull up his security footage after not having any success, in reaching his wife. As everyone eyes return back to the screens with concern, you feel Armando wrapping his hand around yours again, lightly running his thumb against it. 

 Mike let's out a sigh as his wife finally picks up, but it’s too late because not even a second later you hear screams and scuffling. Frantically, your eyes search the monitors, watching as men infiltrate Mikes home. 

Glancing away from the screen you look at Mike, who has an uneasy expression washing over his face. Just as he was about to speak, a deep menacing voice cuts in, 

“tss.tss.tss.... I think you have something that belongs to me Mike......” 

[minswriting]

You said you liked pegging… so how about pegging Hotch? Big old tough unit Chief just being ruined by you.

-🌕

anon, this isn’t a want. this is an absolute need.

nsfw | mdni | aaron hotchner x reader | pegging (m), praise

aaron hotchner wasn’t someone that gave up authority easily. he likes to be in charge in all aspects of his life. at work, at home, even in his sex life, he remained as an authoritative person. but there were rare times when he let you take charge. to take care of him in a way no one else ever could or would. and tonight was certainly one of those nights.

aaron was laid on his stomach, head buried in the pillow, as you fucked him hard but slowly with your strap on. your lips were close to his ear, murmuring and whispering praises as you thrusted your hips.

“taking my fake cock so well,” you murmured, giving a particularly harsh thrust.

aaron let out a moan, burying his face deeper into the pillow. nights like these, aaron didn’t speak much. he just felt. and you were perfectly okay with that. because actions often spoke louder than words.

“you’re so good for me,” you continued speaking. “always taking care of me so well. and now it’s my turn to take care of you, aaron.” you continued your slow pace, wanting to make this feel as good for aaron as possible.

he let out a moan, gripping the sheets below him. “f-faster, please” came the muffled sound of his voice.

and so you obliged. you began thrusting your hips faster, causing aaron to make more noises. noises that he hardly would make in any other situation. and you absolutely adored it. the man who prides himself of having a lot of control has relinquished that control and is losing himself to the pleasures of getting fucked in the ass.

“o-oh fuck,” he moaned as you hit his prostate, making him close his eyes in pleasure. he reached between himself and the bed, grabbing his hard and leaking cock as he jerked himself off to the pace you set for him.

“look at you,” you said, your breathing harsh. “you look so handsome underneath me, taking what i give you.”

it didn’t take long for aaron to feel his release coming as you thrusted your hips repeatedly. his cock stiffened in his hand. and with a few more thrusts and pumps, aaron came with a choked moan, cumming onto the mattress beneath him.

you fucked him through his orgasm, milking him. and when he finished, you pulled out, giving yourself a moment to catch your breath before taking the strap on off and laying down next to aaron on the bed. no words were spoken as you wrapped an arm around him. he turned so that he was facing you. and the two of you just looked at one another, taking in each other’s presence.

after a few minutes of silence, aaron reached his hand to caress your cheek. “thank you,” he whispered softly.

you simply smiled, pressing a kiss onto his nose. “anything for you, my love,” you replied.

sometimes we all need a break from being in control, to allow someone else to take care of us. and aaron loved when you took care of him.

[closerstars]

small favors

mingyu x oc reader

fluff, friends to lovers

note: this is purely self-indulgent because i have a big fat ass crush on mingyu. havent got the time to proofread and fancify everything but pls enjoy!!!

—

"This is my third glass already. If that girl in the red dress doesn't stick around, I'm tapping out," you sigh, your face resting on your hand while the other holds onto your margarita. Mingyu had come up with the plan for you both to team up and help Wonwoo find a date at Seungcheol’s sister’s wedding party, and you had readily agreed.

You've known Wonwoo since childhood, introduced by his mom at the playground, and you've been the best of friends since then. Mingyu joined your circle in high school, and the three of you have been inseparable ever since.

"Hang in there. I think the girl in red might be the one. They’ve been chatting for a good ten minutes now," Mingyu remarks, checking his watch.

"Yeah? Let's see," you reply skeptically.

"Such a pessimist. Remember, she's your candidate," Mingyu teases.

"I don't know, I just don't see Wonwoo fully engaged in the conversation. She had that charm when I talked to her," you admit, though it's hard to tell from three tables away whether Wonwoo's truly interested or just politely listening.

As you both observe, Soonyoung joins in with his drink. "What are you both up to now?" he asks, following your gaze to Wonwoo and the girl in the red dress, looking at you and Mingyu with a confused expression.

Turning to Soonyoung, you ask, "Soonyoung, what do you think? Will the girl in the red dress be able to break through Wonwoo's defenses?"

He takes a sip and frowns at the aftertaste. "How come you never set me up? We're friends too, you know, both of you."

"Just answer the question," you roll your eyes.

Soonyoung takes another look at Wonwoo and the girl in the red dress. "I think she might," he finally answers, earning a nod of agreement from you.

"Hey, look! They're laughing!" Mingyu giggles at the sight of Wonwoo saying something that earns a laugh from the girl.

"Oh my god," you gush with Mingyu. "She just handed him her phone."

You playfully slap Mingyu’s arm. "Dude, they're exchanging numbers!"

Both matchmakers celebrate with high fives until the girl in the red dress exits their view and waves goodbye to Wonwoo.

"Wait, where's she going? Is she heading home already?" you wonder aloud, checking the time on your phone. When you look back up, the girl in the red dress passes by your table and greets you with a nod, saying, "Nice to meet you again, Y/N. Gotta go."

Wonwoo follows after her, approaching your table. As he sets his drink down, you immediately ask, “So?”

Wonwoo takes a sip of his drink. “She was alright,” he says nonchalantly, earning a disappointed expression from you, which he finds amusing.

"What do you mean she was alright?" Mingyu prompts.

"Well…" Wonwoo tilts his head, trying to recall the details. "She’s a photographer. So that’s a good start."

Impatient with his lack of detail, you sigh. Typical Wonwoo, a man of few words. "Okay. And?"

Wonwoo takes another sip. “She suggested I visit her photo exhibit sometime. So she gave me her Instagram page and I gave her mine too.”

Realizing your mission was a success, you grasp Mingyu's shoulder. Mingyu raises his glass, proposing a toast among the four of you.

"I'm so happy right now, I need another glass," you giggle, taking a sip of your margarita.

“Okay. Wonwoo’s got a date. How about me?” Soonyoung pouts, making you laugh. You then ask Mingyu to switch seats so you can play matchmaker with Soonyoung this time.

As you're in the middle of interviewing Soonyoung and scanning the crowd with him to find someone he’d want to talk to, Dami, Seungcheol’s sister in lawapproaches and grabs your arm, pulling you to her.

“Y/N! I have someone you should meet!”

With wide eyes, you look at your tablemates and mouth "Help," but they only laugh at you.

“Bye!” Wonwoo teases, waving to you.

Meanwhile, the three guys left at the table continue drinking and talking over the jazz music playing in the background. Mingyu notices you at a table with Seungcheol as Dami walks through the crowd with her arm looped around some guy in a tux.

He figures maybe this is the guy Dami wanted to introduce you to. Guess they aren’t the only ones playing matchmaker that night.

Wonwoo notices his best friend looking intently from afar. He turns his head back to see you shaking hands with a handsome stranger. Mingyu’s eyes start to wander, trying to distract himself from the hint of jealousy he was feeling

“When is the DJ set going to start? I am so bored,” Soonyoung pouts as he scrolls through his phone, then gets nudged by Wonwoo, directing his attention to you observing something from a distance.

Soonyoung couldn’t help but tease. “Oh wow, Dami’s got good taste. I’d like to see how Y/N would play the game tonight.”

“What?” Mingyu snaps out of it and pretends not to hear.

“Good luck stealing her back, man. Just letting you know I’m always Team Mingyu.” Soonyoung pats Mingyu's back, gripping his drink and takes off.

Wonwoo then slides closer to Mingyu. “You know you’ve always had the advantage, right?”

Mingyu looks at him, confused. “Advantage? What are you talking about?” Mingyu knows what his best friend was talking about. Wonwoo is direct, but this conversation feels different. They've never discussed about him and Y/N before.

“Oh, come on, Mingyu. I've noticed the way you look at her lately. If you like her, just tell her and let it happen the way its fated to happen,” Wonwoo says, taking a sip of his drink, as though confessing to Y/N were as simple as ordering another round.

If telling Y/N what he felt was that easy for him and her, he could’ve done it sooner. But no. He wanted to be sure. He wanted to be sure that this wasn’t just some sort of crush.

“Okay, let's calm down,” he chuckles nervously. “I’m just taking my time, hyung. And I also want to give her all the time and space she needs if…” he pauses. “… if she ever feels the same way.” He adds hastily, gulping down the rest of his drink. “This stuff is good. I need more.”

Conveniently, Seungcheol appears out of nowhere with two glasses in hand, setting them down their table. “I thought you might need another round,” he says, chuckling softly.

Mingyu thanks him, but before he can even grab his drink, you swoop in and snatch it from his hand, leaving the three of them surprised.

“Thanks,” you say, taking a sip and letting out a relieved sigh. You hadn't expected to meet one of your biggest radio DJ crushes, Joshua, at a wedding party. As the brief conversation with him ends, you hurriedly excuse yourself from Seungmi, feeling your face grow warmer by the second.

As you return to your table, Cheol gives Mingyu a teasing glance while sipping on his drink. “Y/N's pretty cute when she's flustered.”

“Oh shut up.” You playfully roll your eyes and then offered to get Mingyu a new glass which you did.

As you stepped away, Wonwoo chuckles at Cheol’s comment, earning an eye roll from Mingyu. “This is so annoying.”

“Why are you annoyed? Oh, I see. You know I heard that Joshua invited her to visit him at the radio booth sometime.” Cheol prods.

“She'll probably be too busy to go,” Mingyu counters.

“How would you know? Are you her manager?”

“What if I am?” Mingyu retorts, trying to play it cool.

They stop abruptly when you came back with a new drink in hand and gave it to Mingyu. “Gentlemen. I am back. Here’s your drink, sir.”

“So how’d it go meeting one of your celebrity crushes?” Wonwoo asks. He wanted to see how his bestfriend will react.

“Oh. Pfft. Yeah I think I played it real cool. Did I?” You turn to Seungcheol for affirmation but he laughs at you instead.

“You were good. Charming at least.” He winks at you and you mouthed a ‘thank you’ You then proceeded to rambling about Joshua’s radio show Sunday Mornings aired every Sunday morning.

“So annoying.” Mingyu mutters as he side eyes Seungcheol.

Wonwoo tries to hold in a laugh, covering his mouth with his drink. Mingyu takes another big sip from his drink thinking this was going to be a long night for him.

—

The tension Mingyu was feeling inside eases off as the night progressed. He has the alcohol to thank for that as well as when the dj finally starts his set for the after-after party.

You, however, was on a high and was extra loud for the night. Never in your life would you think you’d have the energy to goof around and match Soonyoung’s on the dancefloor considering that you weren’t that good of a dancer.

With your confidence at its peak you even pulled the bride to dance with you twirled her over to her now husband. The warmth and joy you felt was incomparable as you watched the newly weds dance and then seal everything with a kiss as the song ended.

Another song plays as you wanted to rest because your feet was starting to hurt already so you head to the bar for another drink as if you weren’t tipsy enough. You scan the room for somewhere to sit on but all you found was the flight of stairs from where the bride and groom had their grand entrance earlier that night.

Wonwoo was sitting down a step checking his phone. He then notices you approaching. He scoots a little and sweeps the space beside him with his hand for you to sit on.

“Tired?” He says with a welcoming smile.

“Yeah. A little.” You sigh as you carefully take a seat.

“Did you at least have fun tonight?” He asks like a dad asking his daughter if she had fun.

“Yes, dad. There were lots of boys hitting on me though.” You joke and scrunch your nose waiting for his reaction.

Wonwoo chuckles and plays along. “Ah my pretty daughter. The boys must’ve had a hard time getting your attention.”

“They’re just boys. I’m here for the party.”

“Really? No one caught your eye?” He points to the small crowd of people enjoying the music, dancing, having drinks.

You casually pretend to scan the crowd until you notice Mingyu was fast approaching still looking to be at full energy.

“I dunno. This guy seems pretty decent.” You shrugged. “Pretty. Decent. Kind.” You said that in a very smug way but heaven knows you meant it.

You’ve developed a skill of being friends with Kim Mingyu. And that was suppressing even the slightest infatuation that eventually grew over the years. Who wouldn’t have a crush on Kim Mingyu anyway?

You’ve had plenty of experience with girls befriending you just to get close to him, some would bribe you with coffee to have you give them his number. You get the coffee, ask Mingyu for permission if he’s comfortable with his number being given and then hand him the coffee you got for free.

With your sibling-like dynamic, he was so comfortable with sharing even his dating life sometimes it wasn’t as fun anymore because you realize how good of a person he was it’s almost unreal that some girls think of him as too naive when he’s really just that kind of person who always believes there is something good in everything.

You were glad to be his friend. You continue to learn a lot from him. There’s an internal struggle however, when that dreaded question “what if you wanted something more than being friends” comes to mind. It scares you. Scared that he might get to close to see through the cracks.

“What are you two doing?! Sitting down?! Really?!” Mingyu reaches for your hand while his other hand reaches for Wonwoo’s and then pulls the both of you up like his ragdolls.

This was always the dynamic between you three. Mingyu being the energetic golden retriever, Wonwoo being the calm black cat, you being the confused chihuahua to balance them out.

—

Later that night, you find yourself assisting a drunk Kwon Soonyoung to his hotel room.

As you search your purse for Soon’s key card he has entrusted you earlier that night, Wonwoo was trying to restrain Soon who was trying to kiss him while he laughs and giggles. Same with Mingyu. But he just talks to Soon in his state.

The door beeped and clicked open so you successfully assisted Soonyoung to his room. You help remove his blazer and then finally made him lay in bed.

Thankfully, your rooms were on the same floor so you all went your separate ways for the night.

Once you settled in and changed to a shirt and sweatpants. You were in the midst of removing stubborn makeup when you decided to open a bottle of beer to cap off the night

As you were quietly browsing photos you took in your hotel room you notices Mingyu’s coat that you lazily hung to a chair.

You text him.

“You still awake??? forgot to give your coat back sorry”

“i’ll go get it in a minute” he replied

You continue browsing the photos you took for tonight and you stop at photos Soonyoung took of Mingyu and you making funny faces. Your lips curl to a smile as you remember this was taken after you sent Wonwoo off with a girl to talk too.

You heard knocking so you toss your phone to your bed and set the beer bottle down. You get Mingyu’s coat and open the door.

“Hey.” You were greeted with Mingyu hair still a bit wet from the shower, obvious from the droplets of his hoodie.

“I was going to give it later in the morning but you were eager to get it.” You hand him your coat.

“You can just tell me you’re gonna hug it to your sleep if you want to you know.” He reaches for it and your hands slightly brush together.

Your face contorts. “Ew. Why the hell would I do that? Creepy.”

“So you can dream of me. Duh.” He is still at it.

“I’ll pass. Good night, Gyu.” You were not having enough of it you rolled your eyes and was about to close the door but his hand stops it.

There was silence between you two for a few seconds. He then takes a step closer, height towering over you. At this moment you felt as if you were put under his spell. Unable to move, you focus on his forehead since your legs might just give up if you look straight into his eyes.

His eyes traveling from your eyes nose and lips.

He softly touches your fingers, moving up your arms barely touching it with his fingertips then tracing your jaw.

You feel your breath slowing down. Your eyes trying to read his. Was this really happening? Should you let it happen?

“Can I kiss you?” He says quietly.

You nod slightly, closed your eyes then it happens. You felt the warmth spread to your face.

Mingyu smiles as he pulled away. Both your eyes meeting each other. You sigh a little. Your foreheads against each other.

“You taste like beer.” He giggles softly and you let out a shy laugh.

You weren’t sure what got to you as you reached for his neck to kiss him again.

After you break it off there was a pause and then you both go back to laughing faces against each other. You have no idea if it was just the high of finally doing what both your hearts wanted to do for a long while. And finally meeting halfway with what the score is between the two of you.

You were both interrupted with the sound of the door being opened. You both straighten up as if nothing happened.

“I-uh…” Mingyu clears his throat. “Goodnight, Y/N.

You touch your nape and avoided eye contact. “Yeah uh. Good night, Gyu.”

—

It was another long day for you and Mingyu at work. While you were busy writing and revising scripts and trying to help your editor with the video editing, Mingyu was busy shooting new content for the project you were working together for. He was the director this time and you were one of the writers.

No one has said a word ever since that kiss. You were at your best at pretending that it did not bother you at all and kept busy at work.

He asked you to eat lunch with him at your favorite sandwich place.

The whole time you sat there were complaining about how you were frustrated at one of your scripts keep getting scrapped by one of the hosts you were shooting.

“Can I talk to you about something” He asked softly.

You peel off the wrapper of your subway BLT “Yeah go on.“ And then you took a big bite.

“About that kiss.” His eyes not leaving yours. Observing how you’d react.

You somehow mastered controling your reactions being with Mingyu for years.

“What about it?” You said nonchalantly. “I was pretty drunk that night.” No you weren’t. You were having a beer and completely aware.

“You…were?” He tilts his head like a confused puppy. “Okay. But I remember you kissing me back.” He was taken aback by your reply. You were clearly not as kissing anyone she sees drunk level as Soonyoung.

“Yeah, cause I was drunk. We do and say stupid things when we’re drunk. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.” You meet his eyes this time to make your lie more convincing to him but moreso yourself.

Mingyu was left confused. You were not drunk that night.

He raised an eyebrow because you were obviously lying. You were more stern, retained more eye contact when you lie. It’s the same strategy you do when you’re pushed to do revisions to scripts that you did not want to do because it’ll only change the story.

“Look I just want to you to know that I don’t regret doing that.”

“Mmhmm.” You were busy chewing your sandwich and back to avoiding eye contact.

“And that I have liked you long enough for me to have the courage to do that.”

He can see your eyes widen and proactively try to avoid his. Your gut goes crazy until your eyes meet his. You stay there and your gut eases.

You were about to say something but couldn’t find the words so you just closed your mouth and looked into his eyes now and sighed.

“But please don’t say anything. You don’t have to answer.”

“And just tell me if you’re not comfortable with this. I mean we do work together almost all the time.” He then takes a big bite of the sandwich he barely touched after all that.

“It’s fine. I mean… It was a drunken mistake on me. I just-” You sighed again and wanted to say something but your emotions were all over the place. “Thank you. For telling me this.”

“Are we cool?”

You smiled. “Course we are.”

—

“So… Wonwoo told me something earlier before he left.” You peeked through your laptop and glanced at Mingyu who was cooking.

“What’d he say?”

“Nothing. He just told me that he… saw us kiss that night at the wedding.” You shrug trying to keep your tone as casual as you can.

“Okay. And?”

“He said that whatever that was, it’s safe with him. It’s none of his business.” You stood up from your seat and walked to their fridge.

“I just told him that it was nothing. I was drunk.” You said as you searched for a can of soda and then reached for it.

Mingyu’s eyebrows were raised at the sound of you saying you were drunk excuse again. He turns to face you with arms crossed across his chest. “It was nothing huh? And you were drunk.”

“Yeah. I was. Haven’t we talked about this?” You opened the soda but almost fizzed out but you drink it up with your mouth before it spills.

Mingyu scoffs. “You can’t keep convincing yourself that you were too drunk to kiss me back that night,” Mingyu finally snaps, his frustration boiling over. He’s tired of you dismissing your kiss as a drunken mistake. It wasn’t just about the kiss he was frustrated about.

You were a mess. You were going on this push and pull game of yours. You would be sweet one day and then the next one push him away. It wasn’t as if Mingyu didn’t see this coming knowing you.

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “What did you just say?”

“You were sober,” Mingyu states firmly, taking a step closer to her. “You kissed me back.” He removes his apron this time and carefully sets it aside.

Your arms cross defensively. “And what if I did?”

“Just admit it,” Mingyu insists, his voice tinged with exasperation. “I kissed you because I like you, you kissed me back, and now you keep saying you were drunk and it was nothing?”

“Stop saying the word ‘kiss’!” You retort, your irritation becoming more obvious.

“Stop acting like a child!” Mingyu shoots back, his frustration building up.

“I was just experimenting, okay? Can we drop it now?” Your tone softens slightly as you resigns herself to the conversation.

“Experimenting? For what? You’re unbelievable! Are we guinea pigs now to experiment your feelings on?” Mingyu’s disbelief is palpable.

“I was trying to see if it was real,” you admit reluctantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What is?” Mingyu’s gaze softens as he meets her eyes.

“You and I,” you replie quietly, your defenses crumbling. “Whatever this is.”

There’s a moment of silence as they both process your confession.

Finally, you sigh, tone resigned. “I was just checking. Making sure what I felt was real. So I can confront it and have the guts to tell you.”

“But you kissed me, so I kissed you back, and then I went crazy, so I wanted to think about it for days, hence me trying to convince myself and you all that I was drunk!”

Mingyu’s eyes soften, a hint of understanding dawning in them as they trail from her eyes to her lips. “Well, do you want to check again?” he asks softly.

You chuckle, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re so stupid,” you murmur. “I’m not kissing you again.”

“You want to,” Mingyu insists, leaning in closer.

You place your palm on his chest, stopping him from closing the gap. “Yeah, I kinda do,” you admit, before leaning in for a short kiss.

[latenightdaydreams]

Mafia! König X Enemy! Reader

The reader is a CEO at a corporation, a person who always destroys König's business deals, it's time to punish

Mafia!König x CEO!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

READ TRIGGERS

>cw: fem/afab, non-con, whipping, sodomy

1.7k word count

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When König received the news that his latest deal was intercepted due to you, again, he ordered his best to find you and bring you in. This was more than a hit; it was personal now. He had to be the one to do it. All he knew about you was your last name and the fact you’re the CEO. Imagine his surprise when he sees a woman tied to a chair and blindfolded. Not meaning to be sexist, but he was expecting a man.

As you sit with your arms bound behind your back and legs together, you struggle to break free. You stop once you hear heavy footsteps enter the room that you’re in. The sound of whispering followed by someone grabbing your chin tightly and tilting your head up.

“So, you’re the Kleine Maus that has been a thorn in my side,” König say’s in a low tone to you.

König pulls the blindfold from your eyes as he gazes down at you still. You only see icy blue eyes behind his black mask with bleach streaks. He studies your face closely; he can’t help but to find you attractive. The want to kill you changes, now he wants to own you. Such a pretty thing, it would be a waste to discard you.

“Do you know who I am?”

“König?” You try to steady your voice so your fear doesn’t show. In a cocky way, you felt untouchable. You never saw yourself in this position.

“Ja.” He grabs your jaw tightly and turns your face to the side to inspect you. “I wasn’t expecting a vixen.”

You try to jerk your face away from him, but his grip is tight. “What do you want?”

“I think you already know what I want.”

“Then just kill me already.”

“I don’t think I will.” König leans in closer to your face and looks deeply into your eyes. “It would be such a waste, don’t you think?”

“Do you want to do business with me? I can give you a 25% cut—”

“25%? That’s it? I think I’d prefer 100%.”

“50%.”

“Nien, Maus. I’m going to take it all, plus a little extra.”

König takes a few steps back from you, releasing your jaw. He grabs a pocket knife from its sheath, walking towards you. Fearful of being stabbed, you squirm in your restraints.

“Stop moving.” König mumbles as he grabs your shirt. He slides the knife through the fabric, splitting it in half and exposing your breasts sitting in your red bra.

“What are you doing?!”

“Showing you your place.” König looks at you as he pulls your shirt back to show more of your body to him. He pulls your bra down harshly, freeing your breasts. “Schön.”

“Stop!”

“You’re in no place to be making demands, Kleiner. Shut the fuck up and be thankful I’m letting you live,” He barks at you.

You sit with wide eyes and swallow hard as you can see the rage he’s suppressing. You’ve stolen millions from him, there is no denying the man hates you. His gaze only leaves yours to look down at your breasts, nipples harden from the cold air in the room.

“When I untie you, just know the door is locked from the outside and only the man on the other side can open it. Save your energy for what I’ve got planned.”

You shake your head, but don’t listen. König cuts the binds on your legs before going behind you and cutting your wrist free. In an instant you stand to run to the door. You’re unable to open it so you just bang on it and scream to be let out. Horangi on the other side just looks at the solid wood door before laughing at how desperate you are.

König wraps his muscular arm around your waist and pulls you back. “Pull your pants off.” You stand still, unmoving. “NOW!”

His loud demand causes you to jump, your fingers quickly pulling your slacks down. You stand in only your red panties now, gazing at König. He stands with his arms crossed, leaning against the door just taking in the sight before him.

“Legs apart.” He says, pushing himself off the door as he approaches you. “And if you try to hit me, you’ll only be making it worse for yourself Maus.”

There is no way you would even try. He stands at almost 7 feet with the build of a bull. You’re too small to take him on without a weapon. Instead, you swallow your pride and stand with your feet spread apart and your hands at your side. You look straight ahead and avoid looking at him as he approaches and walks behind you.

“Hands behind your back.”

You cross your arms behind your back, you can hear the rustling of fabric as König pulls his belt off of his waist. He folds the belt in half as he stares at your ass. First, he squeezes your soft fatty flesh with his large hand and taps it a few times. He then pulls his arm back before slamming his leather belt harshly against your delicate skin.

A pained cry leaves your lips, causing König to smile. He hits you so hard that you’re thrown off balance. His hand wraps around your arm pulling up back to your original stance.

“Come on, you’re stronger than that.” He mocks as he hits you again.

Another painful wail spills from your mouth, you are able to hold yourself firmer this time though. König loves hearing your pained cries. His cock getting hard in his cargo pants as he watches your ass ripple with every hit. Small welts already are starting to appear from the degree in which he is hitting you.

A few minutes of him whipping you pass as you stand with tears staining your cheeks until he stops. You wait for the next hit but it never comes. König just stands there rubbing his palm over his erection straining against the fabric needing set free.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it Maus?” He chuckles as he walks to grab the only chair in the empty room and brings it behind you. “Knees here. Lean over the back.” He says while pointing to the seat of the chair.

You turn and gaze up at him while moving yourself to the chair. Simply walking hurts, the skin on your ass is burning hot and feels tight. Once you’re situated on the chair, he walks up behind you and pulls down your underwear. His eyes gloss over your tight little asshole and those pretty, fat pussy lips between your legs.

He pulls your panties off all the way and brings them to his face to smell. “Are you ready for me?”

“Please, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” He stops you.

König walks to be in front of you as he gazes down at you. Without breaking eye contact he unzips his pants, pulling at the button and letting his pants drop to his ankles. His cock springs free in your face. He walks closer and presses the leaky tip against your closed lips.

“Open.” König demands with his massive horse cock in your face.

You shake your head no. König laughs at your defiance.

“I said open. It’s for your benefit.” He mocks.

You still refuse to open.

“Okay, no lube it is.” He says as he walks away back behind you.

With your panties still in hand, he crouches down. He spreads your ass cheeks, causing you to flinch from the pain of where you were hit. He watches as your pussy lips spread slightly, exposing your pink folds.

“Here we go.” He whispers as he slowly shows your panties into your tight pussy. The feeling of the fabric being shoved into you is uncomfortable, but you try to stay still to not anger him more. He leaves a little bit hanging out of you, kissing your lips before standing up right again.

König moves closer, slapping your sore ass cheeks with his cock. One of his hands grabs the back of your neck to hold you still, the other still on the base of his cock. He begins to slap over your tight asshole with his heavy cock.

“Are you ready for me?”

You simply don’t respond, doing your best to stay in your head and not react. All of that goes out the window when you feel him shove the head of his cock into your virgin asshole. Your head whips around and you gaze up at König.

König meets your gaze as he shoves more of his cock into you. Your ass squeezes so hard around him he slips out for a second. It’s a small moment of relief until he pushes back into you. A loud painful groan is met with him shoving in more of his cock this time. You can feel a tearing sensation causing you to clench down on him, tucking your butt trying to get away.

“DON’T move…” He growls as he holds your hip, pulling you back to him.

König moves both hands to your hips to keep you steady, watching as his cock disappears into your tiny little hole. He lets out a loud moan once he is able to fit all of himself inside of you. The pain of his hips slamming into your torn up flesh is not even close to the pain of his monster cock inside of you.

He pulls out almost all of the way before slamming his cock into you once more. The wails that leave your mouth only adding to his arousal. His cock is being squeezed so tightly by your warm ass he gets lost in the sensation, just fucking you disregarding your pain.

König moves one hand to slap your ass, watching you jerk away like an abused animal. He smirks. You’re already breaking for him. As he shoves his cock all the way into your sore ass, he leans over your body to whisper in your ear.

“You’ve fucked me out of millions, and I’m going to fuck you for ever cent you took from me.” He promises you.

[undercoverpena]

met you once, saw you thrice

lucien flores x f!reader

summary: the first time, he kissed you. the second time, you found yourselves in a bathroom. the third time, well, the third time.

warnings: 18+ smut, fingering aka hands go inside underwear under a tree. not-friends to not-lovers. tension. lots of references to past debauchery. slight mention of lucien's sobriety. lots of plot for some sexy rewards. wc: 5.3k an: this is my submission to summer lovin', brought to you by @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy. i got Lucien, and this gorgeous moodboard. im a touch nervous about this man as i usually need the source material to write, so be kind. huge thanks to @pedgito for hand holding and to my circle for lifting me when i kept falling.

You shouldn’t be here.

That’s what you think, hovering under the white canopy away from the sun, surrounded by expensive bottles of champagne chilling in silver buckets, their labels catching the flickering candlelight strategically placed around the sprawling garden.

Another bead falls down your glass, the ice in your drink melting. Thick rolls of condensation drip over your knuckles, along your hand, and down your wrist. Each one falls like rain, landing on the flowy skirt of your summer dress.

It's a new purchase, far too expensive, the label tucked inside, hidden away—pressing and cutting into your skin when you move—doing so each time you nod and over-pronounce a hello to those draped in designers and silk, while the grill sizzles and steams as more is added to it.

You shouldn’t be here because you don’t belong.

Not an actor, not someone on stage; not a writer or a producer. Not the girlfriend of one either. Just a friend of a friend—one ditched, left to ferment with the salad wilting in the warm temperatures as Smith flits between flirting with a waiter and the one he really wants.

You’re not sure why you let him convince you to come. Even as you take another sip, glancing at the time on your wrist, the free food and drink are slowly becoming less worth it. Assessing through sideward glances where the hand needs to be before you can dismiss the worries of being a bad friend and hail a cab.

Not that Smith would notice.

To him, you had completed your role, and earned your accolade in his eyes—the role of not allowing him to come to this alone. It would be criminal to do that. To let him arrive at a house tucked into acres, with Dom Perignon on tap and a grill larger than your kitchen.

You know you should be grateful Smith hadn’t traded you for his new friends. The ones who walk red carpets and call him Smithy. You suppose you should also be thankful he brings you so you can take home stories that make you not hate that you live in a studio apartment and work a 9 to 5.

It’s hard not to be bitter right now. On your own. Exhaling and staring around, wearing that plastered-on half-smile perfected from shitty customer service jobs.

Bringing your glass back to your lips, doing one last sweep before you sneak out, fighting the scent of split open apricots and pungent flowery perfume, you see him. Spot him. The crowd practically parting for him to come into view, creating a gap that would make a romantic swoon.

But, you’re no romantic—more thrillers and mysteries on your nightstand than meet cutes and midnight kisses. If anything, you’re more a cynic, a twisted-up, poisoned hater of hand-holding and Sunday mornings.

Especially when it comes to him.

Lucien Flores.

His name echoes around your skull in the same way it did when it was first introduced to you. Dropped to you, honeyed and elongated as though by stretching it out, you’d fall under some spell as he seated himself beside you—a deck of cards in hand.

Tipping the glass, your mouth fills with lemonade, holding his gaze—willing to do so until your eyes burn, until it feels impossible. All stubborn to a fault. Obstinate and arrogant.

You’re saved as a group moves in between the two of you—breaking it for you.

And you decide, rather quickly, it’s time to move—hoping the sight of your back will be enough for him not to press further.

You’re not counting—but he waits an hour.

Crosses the garden, where the tables have moved into standing groups around various points of the green. Some have stood to mingle, to mill around with their flutes and their tales of marriage, honours, and complaints once the grilling finished and the bubbles got to some of the louder women. Others begin the garden games, the ones which had no rules but also had some, as though the aim was to confuse rather than create fun.

Smith had returned between the salad being offered and the grilled steaks. A leaf between his fingers, he whispered he was going back to his tennis match. A twinkle in his eye, a kiss to your forehead, a promise there but one that never really seals itself or makes itself solid. Just confirms that your use was done—You don’t have to wait for me, pumpkin.

A nickname which had once made you smile and now just makes your heart lurch when you let go of his hand and watch him vanish into the house.

One person who hasn’t vanished is Lucien. It surprises you that he’s waited so long to make his approach. Almost as surprising as it is to see him, having heard rumours he’d landed a role in a movie—something British, remote, taking him overseas.

But he’s here. All brown eyes that attempt to drown you, pull you under—dig into you. You feel you should be used to them; they’ve been fixed on you for so long. Soaking you in deep chocolate, thick enough to make it feel like it’s hard to move, to fight it—akin to sludge, mud—as he begins to smirk as he nears.

And maybe he remembers too.

Able to recall a time similar to this. Not the first, but the second. When instead of barbecues and setting suns, it had been wine, cheese and a much later evening. Card games having caused outrage, shrieked words from a woman who should have been cut off a while ago, having caused you to slip out, escape to the first-floor bathroom. Finding he followed.

Don’t think about him—

The opposite sprouts so easily, you have to wonder what soil lives in your mind.

Because, of course, you had thought about it, about him. More than you should. Heat gliding up your neck now, making you shift your shoulders as the straps of your dress cut in, as you do. You think about how his lips felt on the juncture of your neck when you sit in conference calls, and how his hips had dipped before you felt his hardening cock slide over your covered ass. At night, you think about how it feels to have his thick fingers sliding open the button and zip of your pantsuit, how they’d slid inside your new lace undies and collected your slick to enjoy a taste.

The more you stopped yourself, the worse it became. Craving him when the moon was at its highest, hand delving between your thighs as you tried to replicate all the places he touched. Wanting, needing—desperately desiring until you arched from your sheets, sprinkled in sweat as you hissed his name out between gritted teeth.

That’s all you allow.

No second-glances passing newspaper stands when he makes the front page, no secret Google searches when you were frustrated and impossibly lonely. Knowing, and comprehending, that if you did, it would only lead to further disappointment. It would land you somewhere close to remembered disinterest, like those times when you’d found yourself sat across from charm and wit—making you disassociate when your palm rested on white linen with a candle flickering in the middle as you hoped, prayed, internally begged for a comment on how nice you’d looked.

Not again.

Never again.

So, you placed him where you suspected he had placed you. Out of sight, out of mind. Yours a box, right at the back of your mind—the lid sliding free when you needed release, and only then. It marked in thick Sharpie: a good time, even better cock, but comes with baggage.

It’s why you stand as he takes the final steps to you, your hand retrieving your glass, only to find it empty, drained, with only the little bits of fruit and a smidge of ice at the bottom. But his hands were not.

Extending one to you, one that looked close to the one you’d been enjoying—all mint leaves and lemon slices swimming in lemonade.

“What are the chances?”

You snort, taking a sip. “You’ve used that line.”

“Have I?”

“The last time.”

It’s his turn to snort. Staring. Looking you up and down in a soft drag that makes your stomach flip and your skin prickle with heat.

“Next you’ll tell me your name, tell me that you’re a movie star and that you’ve not seen me around.”

For a second, he gives you a silent stare, eyes speaking volumes that you couldn’t hear as he chews his tongue, and flicks his eyes from your chest back to your face once, twice. “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

Swallowing, wrapping a hand around your middle, you smile—cold, wickedly. “No.”

“S’that why you won’t look at me?”

You eye him, as he does you. Despising that he looks good—that it’s another silk shirt, slightly unbuttoned, similar gold chains hanging from his neck. Hating that he looks so broad, that you remember how it feels to have them spreading your legs, how his chest feels pressed to your back with his cock in your pussy.

Loathing that right now, as you will a quip, a response, your thigh remembers how his palm felt on it as he held it and speared into you. How much of a mess he made of you, that you’d come so hard you’d seen galaxies and not just stars.

“Never known you to be this qui—”

Scowling at him through your eyebrows, you slide your lips into your cheek and straighten your spine. “Do I still look nervous?”

Your pulse quickens as he takes another step closer. His aftershave smothers you. It’s wooden and earthy this time, it flooding your senses as blood hammers in your ears. Every muscle in your frame going taught, tight—so close to snapping that you expect with one breath you’d play a tune like a harp.

Scoffing, a roll of his eyes and he’s taking a long drink of his water—a pebble of it remaining on his lower lip, it commanding to be stared at, to be wiped, to be noticed and applauded like the rest of him as he replies no.

You’re quick not to react, to let pride flood your expression. Something warning you against it, telling you not to—especially when he places his bottle down. The sound echoes out in the quietness of the moment.

“You do look fucking miserable though.”

There it is. Expecting it, the doorway to show itself so he can use a line to cheer you up, to have you smiling, as though he’s a gift. His cock might be, not that you’ll admit it—not even if he begged, if he pleaded.

“Maybe that’s because this asshole keeps staring at me.”

“You think I’m an asshole?”

Eyes narrowing, head tilting to the side as you shrug. “I don’t think you’re not an asshole.”

Rolling his lips, pursing them, before they flatten into a line—hand stroking the hair along his chin, his jaw, he bathes in it, your insult. Let it simmer, cook, before clearing his throat. “Is that why you gave me a fake number?”

Your mouth falls open. Your eyes quickly widen—all cards gone, knocking the air out of your lungs as your heart slams into your stomach for different reasons as he sneers, and shakes his head.

“Enjoy your drink.”

“I—I…”

But, he’s already turned his back.

While a perfectly good exit window had cracked itself open for you, you don’t take it.

Even if it would have allowed you to bid the ache in the arch of your foot goodbye, slide out with the people moving into the house to avoid the chill and those making their own escape.

But, guilt gnawed, chewed. It there ruminating when you catch sight of his silk shirt between other guests. When the scent of his aftershave lingered in the air when you stepped inside to catch your breath from having to re-explain what it is you do to the same people you had done hours ago.

You know he’s presenting a chance to leave, yet your hand grabs another glass bottle of water, the lemon slice bobbing around as you venture down the lit path no one else seems to be trekking.

The one you know he escaped down earlier, seeing it after you’d heard some of them talking about him—the man who doesn’t settle, the one who’s clean but not really clean, the one who has talent and charm, and they wonder in their hushed voices if his cock is really as big as it’s rumoured.

It took all you had to bite back that it is, wanting to point out you’d discovered it in one of their new bathrooms only three months ago.

You pause when you reach the end of the path as it morphs into perfectly manicured grass. Feet sliding from your shoes as you grab the straps, wondering what you’re doing—cursing yourself as your chest heaves and presses roughly against the too-expensive fabric as you question all life choices.

Because you wouldn’t survive him.

A man too big for you, who wouldn’t fit in your world. There’d be no farmers markets and Chinese takeout boxes in bed; no quaint coffee shops and sharing of woes of the day. It would be unbalanced, wrong, awkward, in the same way, it would be if you let him step into your shoebox of an apartment and battle feeling smaller than you do when you’re alone.

Adventure, you think.

He’d said that the first time—when his fingers had wrapped around your wrist and tugged you further into someone's hedge you didn’t know. All green leaves and the scent of flowers sticking to your skin as his mouth pressed to yours. He’d repeated it in the bathroom, your palm flush to the white tiles above the sink—clawing at grout as he hissed it in your ear, filling you, making your mouth contort around a moan of his name as he dragged his cock in and out of your puffy, needy hole.

You suppose adventures are fleeting, not ever after.

Something momentary, nothing serious.

You wonder if he’s actually an adventure or if he just thinks he is. Whether he struggles to leave the fun of who he plays or whether it bleeds into him—a patchwork personality of who he’s had to morph into. It gives him the tools to be an escape, becoming a pause from the mundane, but nothing that stretches itself out passed an evening into the daytime.

When you spot him, your adventure has his phone in hand—spinning it, round and around. Lit cigarette between his lips, the tip burning, paper crisping.

“You seem like trouble.”

Lucien doesn’t turn, but he hears your announcement.

The phone pauses in its 180—it catching the light flickering in the tree above, making the leaves and branches more ominous than they do surrounded by the vivid oranges and reds of the sunset, all fiery intensity. As though the horizon itself had caught fire from the tension, the sun sinking slowly into it, leaving a trail of molten gold and crimson streaks.

“Trouble?” he asks, deep, guttural—caked in smoke and disbelief.

“Trouble.”

Taking another step closer, you stop close to his side. Handing him the bottle, feeling him take it as drop your shoes and stare in the same direction he is—taking in the shades as they deepen before the sun bids the day goodbye.

“That realisation come before or after you came on my cock?”

Nostrils flaring, you regret finding him almost instantly. Shame blooming, filling you from stomach to throat. “A-after.”

He makes a noise, and leaves you in the cold of his mood. To the point, you question again what it is you’re doing. Why you fucking care. Because you don’t. Not really. There’s nothing to know, to latch to—no feelings that could become anything more than a crush.

Incompatible, you think. Incompatible. Incompatible. Incompatible—

“You brought me water.”

His head turns, takes you in—and sweeps you in the familiar brown from earlier. And this time, you let it hang on your shoulders like a sweater. Let it warm you, and bring you comfort. Allow it to smother the shame and force it to seep away as he blows out rings of smoke.

It quickens in its retreat when he pushes off from the trunk, pocketing his phone—it stretching the pocket of his dark jeans as you will yourself not to stare at the bulge already there.

“I did.” It’s matter of fact, no further questions—head dipping, a tightness forming as you shake your head and exhale. “I… I just don’t think your sobriety is a joke.”

You feel his gaze snap to you as the words hang—stringing themselves together like twinkling lights. Unwilling again to meet him, wondering if he was thinking about it, that first time. When a sentence was said in response to a casual joke as the two of you hid out of view. It was made by someone you didn't know, at a party where people pretended to be friends when really they were trying to belittle one another, and Smith pretended he wasn’t in love with the older man he’s vying for.

His cigarette is almost out when you look at him, the lit end illuminating his face in some ways, and casted shadows in others. But, you could see his eyes searing—likely able to even in the darkest night. It etches into you as he takes another drag, as your nose tries to capture the scent of it, it so him, a thing which comes to you when you’re close from your own hand, blotched by it.

“Do you have a collection of silk shirts or something?” 

Smirking, blowing a smoke ring between the two of you. “Do you not like my shirts?”

Breathing, you fight saying I do. Not enjoying that you think of how they feel between your thighs when he'd spread you with his thumb when his tongue had licked from clit to hole and made you sob.

“They’re okay.” 

“Liar.”

Snorting, you roll your eyes. “Says you.”

“She miss me?” Stuffing the cigarette under his shoe, leaning the water against the base of the tree as his chains catch the light as he straightens. “Bet she’s missed me.”

“She?”

His lips curl, eyes flicking down to the place your thighs meet, before he hauls them back up.

And it’s instant, the way heat floods your cheek, pussy fluttering around nothing—remembering.

The noise is first, recalling whispering sweet nothings as he slid inside you in one thrust. Next is the feel of him, the stretch, how impossible it had felt as he kept going, and going, until those fingers, thick and dexterous slid over your swollen nerves. Then, there’s the aftershave, the same as he’s wearing tonight. How it mixed with smoke and liquor, and roses and expensive hand soap—

“D-don’t flatter yourself.”

But you swallow, give it away. Shaky on two legs as you try to look unfazed.

Because you’re pulsing between your legs, starving, aching. Trying to blink back memories of his tongue, of his thigh, or his crooked smile in the mirror as he repeated your name, over and over, like it held weight—like it lived on his tongue and in his mind—

“Parched, are you?”

“Parched?” you hiss. “Who the fuck even are you? Who the fuck says parched—”

Snorting harshly, leaning in his stance as he shrugs, “Oh, you know who I am. I’m baby, baby, right there, baby, I’m gonna come, Luci—”

In a step, your chest is flush with his—hands steadying you on your hips as your palm flattens to his words. You’re aware of him smirking, gloating, right against your skin; feeling the wiry hair around his mouth scratching at you, the same one that left your skin raw and irritated from lapping up the taste of you both before sending you back out to smile.

Lowering your hand, you become conscious of how close you are and how his fingers spread out, holding you tighter, keeping you pinned against him as you descend into his web all over again. Embers spreading out, electricity pulsing out from where his fingers touch you over your dress, as your body recognises, identifies.

“I’m trying not to be an asshole.”

“Is that what you’re doing…”

His hand reaches up, stroking your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip as you take in a deep breath. “Tell me you don’t want me to make you come.”

You should. But, you don’t.

Instead, you close your mouth around his thumb, swirling the tip of it with your tongue as he grunts, right in the back of his throat before he slips it out with a pop. A second brews, and then another before his mouth crashes to yours, all impatient, hungry—rough. Lips parting for him as you feel him lick into your mouth, tasting cigarettes and lemon, at the same time as your back meets bark.

And you’re desperate, yearning.

Tugging him close, palms sliding over silk as you make a note that it’s softer than the faux-paint-splattered one. More velvety, smooth. Hooking your hands around the back of his neck as you pull him closer, practically feeling each breath as coolness slides up your leg, the heel of his hand gliding behind as he bunches the fabric in his hand, his jean-covered thigh coming up between yours as you hiss into his mouth at the contact. Lost in it, in him.

In how intoxicating he is, how wrong it is, clawing at him to come closer, to touch you, whining as he teases you by rocking his knee and slides his palm to cup your breast through your dress. Thumb expertly hardening your nipple, tongue lathing over a spot on your neck that has you keening.

You forget, for a moment, blissfully allow yourself to until he’s pulling at it—tugging at the label as you try to pull his face up.

“Shit, Lucien, no.”

He grunts. Not mockingly, but not full of surprise either. “Planning on returning this?”

Clenching your teeth, you take a breath—needing air to fill your brain to help you think. To ignore the way your lips are swollen and your underwear is already soaked and pressing to his thick thigh.

“Yes.”

“You look too fuckin’ good in this dress to return it.”

“Well unless you’re going to buy it, I have no other choice—”

“I’ll buy it.”

“No you fucking won’t.”

Because it would be wrong.

More than an exchange of your body, more than a mutual appreciation and hunger and need. It would be a gift. A something more. A thing that would fester in your closet and make you hope when you see it, make you dream when your finger slides over the fabric.

“Lucien.”

His fingers drop it, let it hang—the tag. Both your embarrassment and the price of it, just there, as his lips slide down your jaw.

“You won’t want to return it. You’ll want to see it hung in your closet—bury your fingers in your underwear as you stare at it, thinking of this.” Teeth grazing over your pulse, tongue swirling a signature you suspect is his own. “You’ll think of me when you stick that toy in your pussy, wishing it was me, turn it on right between your perfect fucking thighs and—”

You blame his fingers ghosting over your upper thigh for what you let escape, let slip free. “Already think of you.”

Pausing, his shoulders bow—somehow becoming even broader before his head comes up from his place buried in your neck. You see it, words, kindness—a bunch of things he could likely reel off that would make you ruin the wet patch on your gusset even wider.

But he ingests them, consumes them like they never existed. A different offered kindness, you suppose—as though he knows, can see, and begins to understand.

“Be rude of me not to say hi to her then.”

“Why do you…”

His thumb hooks into one side of your underwear, dragging it from its place. Aware of it, the way he’s gentle in shifting the fabric down, handing you the bunched-up dress with a pointed stare, before he’s teasing your lace from between your slick, soaked core. Tugging it down your thighs, eyes not breaking from yours, exhaling as he licks his lips at the sight of you bare to him in the middle of someone's fucking garden.

“Lift?”

And you do, without question. Taking a deep inhale in, closing your eyes, hand covering your face as you lift one foot, then the other.

Finding him staring when you look down. Ogling. Admiring you like what is there between your thighs is some art piece, an exhibit, a thing he’d queue for—as he pockets your panties.

“I’m keeping these.”

“Lucien…”

His hand urging yours to take the balled-up fabric of your dress as he rises, places kisses on your outer thighs, dragging his face slowly up your frame—breath fanning out, somehow feeling it under your layers.

“I’m. Keeping. Them.”

You swallow, silently surrendering. Back of your head flat against the tree as his hands nudge your thighs to part.

“Gorgeous.” He whispers. “You’re so gorgeous—prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

A protest readying, but stolen as one of his thick fingers slides over and through your folds. Knowing you, understanding you. Standing as he drags your slick to your desperate, swollen clit, swirling it, massaging it as you hiccup his name and forget all about his compliment and chase his lips instead. Instead, your hips move on instinct, desiring—determined to find more friction even as he just slowly draws a circle.

You know he’s grinning. Cockily. Frame pressing to you as you feel his hard cock against your thigh—hips keeping you pinned. Fixed.

“You want my fingers? Let me give you my fingers, baby.”

Nodding, fingers tangling in his curls you say it, more in a whisper, something close to a whine: yes, please, yes—

Aware of the heaviness in the air, how thick it feels, even in the breeze. In the same way, you’re aware of the way he breathes good girl. It makes you shudder, yearn, more so when he slides his fingers down from your clit and works two into you.

You gasp. Almost crying out. Unable to stop yourself when he curls them inside of you, bearing down on him, squeezing him, hand releasing your dress as your fingers grip his forearm.

“Want me to stop?”

Shaking your head, no, no, no—

“Good,” he breathes, kissing the side of your mouth. “She’s the best pussy I’ve ever had my fingers in.”

You almost hiss your bet that he says that to all the girls. But, your teeth grit. Not wanting him to stop. Not as your head tilts, eyes opening to see the navy blue smothering burnt orange, blurring the afternoon into the night through your lashes. Shh, he coaxes, as your nails dig into the bark, as he finds that spot inside of you that makes you dizzy, makes you pant. He works it, makes you roll your hips and his palm catches your clit in teased movements—

“Feel so good clenching down on me.”

“Shut up.”

He laughs, and buries it right into your neck as he nips, as he grazes his teeth over your skin. “You tell me one thing but she’s giving you away, baby. Telling me all your secrets.”

Your hand tightens around the fabric in your palm, mouth falling open, paused around words that won’t appear—

“Said you’d tried to make your fingers feel like mine. But they just, wouldn’t, do.”

Each word is punctuated by his fingers fucking into you, crooked, making you messier, wetter, hearing the evidence of it, all filthy, obscene. Enough to get you barred from one of these events again.

Good you almost think, until his mouth slants over yours. Then, it’s bad. Very bad. Each flick of his wrist, and curve of his fingers solidifies it. How bad it would be to lose this, to lose him. The man who has your vision spotting, darkening in the corners.

“Fuck me, Lucien. Please—”

“Not tonight.”

Blinking, hearing it over and over: not tonight, not tonight, not tonight. Your body is lit, more electric than skin and muscle. Thrumming, vibrating bone against blood as he drags his moistened lips against your cheek.

“That’s it. Give it to me, can feel you squeezin’. I know you’re close, baby. So, soak my fingers, want you to stain them, make—”

You come somewhere amid his sentence—right when he kisses you properly. When he presses his vulgar words to your mouth and curls his fingers to meet that spot that has you arching, tensing and chasing. It’s maddening, and everything else before that. Hitting you, and exploding out—something like liquid fire erupting through you as you bear down on his fingers. Each cry and whine muffled by his mouth, by his tongue licking past your teeth and his hips being flush to yours. Pinning.

Because he doesn’t slow or stop even as you tremble. Not doing so until you’re gasping, frayed, all shaking nerves and splintered edges. Lucien swallows each heaved and hissed version of his name until you’re nudging him with your forehead, face scrunching, fingers pushing on his forearm until he retracts.

And, like it does in the movies, your dress falls back down into place. Creased, likely ruined. But nonetheless perfect to anyone who may glance.

Not that you care. Not as you chase normal breaths, as you blink and he comes back into vision, all ridiculously handsome and wide, brown eyes.

Because he’s watching you, seeing his lips curl into his cheek, fingers being brought to his mouth before he wraps his tongue around them. Licks and sucks you clean from them—

It makes you breathe heavier. Want more.

Even on shaky legs, you take a step closer to be flush to him. Arms sliding around his neck, finding your mouth glues back to his as though it should be there. Tasting yourself now, discerning it from the other things he’s enjoyed tonight.

“You do make me nervous when you stare.”

He gives a short laugh, hand on the back of your neck, tugging you back so he can stare into your soul. Something there. Something hurt that has healed all wrong, left things poisoned and rotten as you.

“You know I’m too fucked to be anyone’s anything, right?”

You smile, fingers teasing the hair on the back of his neck. Swallowing, seeing it shift back—the usualness of the two of you.

“See, this is where I think you’re an asshole.”

“For being honest?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head—lips ghosting over his. “Because I think you’re a liar. I think you’d kill to be something, never mind an anything.”

Smirking, but you suspect he stops it from being a smile. Offering silence, instead of a lie—a thing that’ll hurt and sting.

“You going to keep the dress?”

Shrugging, offering a roll of your eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

“You think I could have your number now?”

Biting your lip, you tug on a particular curl. Hearing a dull yelp, watch him narrow his eyes. “I think you can have an email address and take it from there.”

Snorting, he tilts his head back as the both of you hear a commotion from the other end of the garden. Private time likely ending, his name called out in confusion by the same high-pitched voices you’re sure were comparing his inch size earlier.

“I fucking hate these things.”

“Yet you come to them every time,” you reply.

And then his head moves; stares at your side profile as you pretend not to notice. “So do you.”

So you do, you think.

hope you enjoyed! this was so much fun, and also so scary. but i did it, wahayyy. now, i should admit, i may have fallen for him...

npt's [added from the liked post]: @yorksgirl @maggiemayhemnj @janaispunk @sawymredfox @angiewatson

@survivingandenduring @saradika @purplerain04

[poppy-metal]

friends to lovers with patrick…oh my i have thoughts

you guys both come from rich families, grew up with each other all that good stuff and you are quite literally the only people in your wealthy little bubble who really get each other. highlight of the year is when he comes back from the academy for summer break and holidays. all the time he has he spends with you…of course by the time you’re both teenagers he leaves you every once in a while when a pretty girl he can get with comes along. you’ve known you liked him since you were 10 (this all consuming love that knows you’ll always gravitate towards him) this goes on throughout your teens

He realizes he has feelings for you around the time you’re 17, stupidly when he finally sees you start going out with other people. takes him about a week to fully understand why seeing you with a boyfriend pisses him off…of course when he tells you this, things don’t go as planned (referring to your last post on friends to lovers…like of course youre nervous about this. you love him but if he cheats? god you lose him as a boyfriend and a friend). so you fool around a bit, and while he insists on something more serious, you’re too scared to take the jump

this hurts him of course. hurts him enough that when he leaves that summer in 2006 to go pro, he doesn’t want to keep in contact anymore. yeah it hurts to not respond to your calls or emails, but you broke his heart first? how can he just continue like something is normal. You try to keep track of his life, checking scores, even reaching out to that strawberry blonde boy he brought to your house in the summer before (who doesn’t tell you anything either)

life is so much more boring without your best friend. you try meeting new people all throughout college, spread your wings, but its all so boring. no one is as fun or exciting or loving as patrick. eventually you just give up on the idea he is going to come back to your life, its been four years at this point.

you graduate college and go back to your rich little family. realize he isn’t even in contact with his family, god you really have no connection to this man anymore, the only person you actually love is no longer in contact with you. and quite frankly you’re lonely. so after couple post-grad years of wallowing in your sadness, when your parents start pushing you to get married…it only takes couple weeks for you to agree

everything happens so quickly, meeting the rich prick your parents have picked out, the engagement, god now your wedding is in couple of weeks

are you excited? of course not, you don’t feel anything for this man, but hey there are worse outcomes than becoming a wife to a rich business man. you’re 24 you have the rest of your life to live, at least you can do it knowing you have as much money as possible

so yeah you’re content with the life that you’ve chosen….well that is until patrick mf zweig shows up at your door step after years going “you’re getting married?”

oh well…there goes being content with your husband

-🫀

CHEATING IMMEDIATELY

god, its like. why had he even showed up. you'd been the one to break his heart, you'd grappled with that, stewed with regret over it for years, still did, but he'd been the one to cut you off. to block you on all accounts. so to show up now..... like he'd never left, you're shell shocked. hand over your heart, your engagement ring glinting right there.

its like a full laurie moment. "dont marry him." and you're falling back a step like what, what, you cant say that to me.

but he means it. he'd cut you off but he'd never moved on. and hearing the news of your engagement felt like a wakeup call - like someone threw a bucket of ice water over his head. because he fucking knows you. knows you'd never marry a guy like that - not the girl he knew. and you might have broken his heart, but maybe he should have fought for you harder. maybe he shouldn't have stone walled you. maybe he should have seen you were scared and done everything in his power to prove you were meant to be with him.

its a late start, but he's never been one to quit. he wont give you up again.