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tgmsunmontue · 10 months ago

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Reblogging just in case it has been missed. I am about to delete it from my pinned post as it is no longer a WIP, however it is on AO3 and also in my Master List.

Online & Anonymous 16/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017 2018 2019 2019-redux

Many thanks AGAIN to @celandinebergerac, @phisworld14, @redfurrycat and @nevergettingoverit for being my sounding boards as I hashed this out. First chapter was 2nd April, and four months later it's all done. THANK YOU.

EPILOGUE

The last year has been good. Bits of it absolutely great and he no longer keeps second guessing or waiting for something terrible or bad to happen. Maybe he’s finally used up his allotted lifetime amount of bad things. He and Mav have mended their relationship, definitely helped along by Penny, Amelia and Jake, carrying conversation and easing lingering awkwardness when it happens. Then Mav had asked him to be his best man at his wedding to Penny and that had been a whole other experience. It had been a December wedding, their leave period finally not getting sabotaged by new assignments or natural disasters. Instead they’d found themselves working together at the Hard Deck for two weeks while Mav and Penny had a honeymoon and then spending their first Christmas together.

His morning coffee cup now has a photo of his original morning coffee cup on it. Everyone had thought it was a gag gift at Christmas, but it hadn’t been. A picture of a cup just says I’m thinking of you, Wish you were here, I’m sorry, I miss you. It covers a multitude of things and it’s one of his most prized possessions. Jake’s family has become his family; Mav, Penny and Amelia are an extension of that for Jake as well. Amelia has helped stop Jake almost hero-worshipping Mav at least, calling Mav out on his stupid shit and then looking to Jake for back-up, clearly not expecting it from Bradley. Despite the fact that Bradley agrees with her all of the time his relationship with Mav still feels a little too fragile to withstand constant poking and prodding like what Amelia seems to take joy in.

Amelia and Susie get on almost too well, something that terrifies Jake. Amelia had said she’d always wanted a sister; Bradley had been dumb enough to ask if she’d ever wanted a brother. She’d just rolled her eyes, asked why she’d ever want one of those and he’d shut his mouth, ignored the silent laughing coming from Mav’s corner of the living room. Why indeed. His life feels full to brimming, and he cannot wait to get back to them now, but especially Jake.

Although he’s a little confused and more disappointed that Jake isn’t there to meet him when he gets off his flight, but he’d told Bradley he’d be waiting for him at home. He’s tired, has missed him and cannot wait to crawl into bed with him. He doesn’t care if it’s for sex or sleep right now, although he does hope it’s sex and then sleep. It’s been a three-month separation, definitely not the longest they might be apart, but definitely the longest so far since they started afresh with all cards on the table and no more secrets between them. Or simply things they’ve never mentioned, like names.

He drags himself toward Jake’s condo, his own house filled with Daggers. They’re still a squadron, however they’re often used in training exercises now and split in half as and when needed. He’s been in the middle of the Atlantic along with Phoenix and Bob, Halo and Omaha and Fritz. He knows his next deployment is with Jake and he cannot wait, and it’s not only to prove to the higher ups that their relationship isn’t of any more concern than Javy and Natasha’s, or Bob, Rueben and Fritz. Although he’s not sure if the higher ups are aware of that one or are taking a very firm head-in-sand approach because they don’t have the forms and paperwork that would encompass what they have. Not his problem he reminds himself as he turns the key and pushes the door open.

Jake is standing there in his dress whites, looking absolutely fucking gorgeous, well rested and suddenly every nerve in his body is wide awake, sloughed off and away with the sight in front of him. They’ve talked about this, not recently, but in the last year it’s definitely been raised, usually when they were apart, but sometimes when they’ve been wearing them, Jake has given him a slow sly look. The fantasy of fucking in their dress whites, well, more Jake being fucked while wearing them. He thinks he might have swallowed his tongue, ability to talk completely gone as he takes in the sight; he’s into it more than he thought he would be, the time since he’s been with Jake definitely adding to his arousal. He’s not in his whites, definitely not his blues, just his khakis, but Jake knew that and he’s pretty sure Jake doesn’t give a fuck about what Bradley is wearing, it’s all about him.

“Welcome home.”

The door swings shut behind him as he steps forward and drops his duffle, the peak of Jake’s hat bumping his head and they’re kissing, hands grasping at each other with the desperation that only separation or danger brings. Holy shit it’s just as well he didn’t come and pick him up, they’d both have ended up under review and facing disciplinary action for ungentlemanly behavior. Fucking your boyfriend in public is definitely not allowed.

“Jake…”

“Please.”

“Fuck. Don’t need to tell me twice.”

His cock is already half-hard, and if he’s developing a conditioned response to seeing Jake in his whites then that’s going to be a terrible problem for future-Bradley. Then Jake drops to his knees, his mouth already pressing against the fly of his pants and Bradley groans. He takes off Jake’s hat and tosses it toward the sofa, and they’re definitely going to need to pay special attention to cleaning everything later but right now there are more pressing matters at hand.

“What do you want?”

“Going to get you hard with my mouth, then I want you to bend me over the sofa and fuck me. Okay?”

“Yes sir…” Bradley says with a smirk, because Jake’s acting all demanding but nothing he’s said is a hardship in any way. He is so onboard with everything, and Jake isn’t going to have to work to get him fully hard at all. “God I’ve missed you.”

Jake’s crinkling eyes tell him he’s smiling against his cock, his fingers working the zip of Bradley’s fly down and Bradley works at his belt buckle, carefully pulling it free and undoing the button, shoving his pants and underwear down, his cock springing free and Jake simply opens his mouth and starts sucking. No tease, no finesse or any slow introduction. Not that he needs or wants it, more than okay with Jake directing the show, just runs his fingers through Jake’s hair and lets himself enjoy the hot tight suction for what it is; a means to an end that Jake has been fantasizing about for years. It’s not even a couple of minutes before Jake in rising to his feet, his hand curling around Bradley’s cock and he’s leading Bradley by his cock toward the sofa. He can’t help the little laugh, loves that they can be silly with each other like this, his awkward shuffling walk because his pants are still on, although they’re slowly falling with each step.

He takes in the throw over the back of the sofa with a smirk, already knows it’s there to cover up stains and to stop more stains. Like they already know exactly how the height of the back of the sofa is perfect for being bent over, a happy coincidence considering Jake’s sister had bought it. Jake is reaching for something, coming back with lube but no condom. They still use them occasionally, have stashes of the latex-free type in the glove boxes of their vehicles, wallets, bathroom, bedroom… he’s probably never without one except when he’s in his flight suit now that he thinks about it. At home like this though…

“We making a mess Jake?”

“Yes. Yes we are. You leave those pants around your ankles. I want it hard. Want to feel it later.”

“Yeah?” Bradley asks, and his cock jumps at the thought and Jake’s hand squeezes around him in response.

“Yeah. Think you can manage that? Not too tired?”

Bradley rolls his eyes, reaches to slap him on the ass over his pants but then grabs a cheek firmly, rubbing his palm in a circle and then grabbing again and pulls him in closer

“Never too tired for you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Then he’s pushing his hands under the jacket to get to Jake’s buckle, flicks it open and reaches his hand inside, runs his fingers over the hard flesh of his erection, rolling the underwear down slightly. Steps forward to capture Jake’s mouth in a filthy slide of lips, wants to get in as much kissing as he can while they’re facing each other like this, Jake pushed up against the sofa but not yet bent over it. Then Jake is spreading lube on his cock and Bradley groans, feels the head of his cock rub against the rougher fabric of Jake’s pants and god he must really not care about getting them messy. He pulls them down carefully, easing the tailored fabric over the bulge of his erection and swell of his ass cheeks. Jake rolls his hips and Bradley shifts forward, wraps his hand around Jake’s erection and his own, encourages Jake’s fingers to do the same and swallows the gasping breath made against his mouth.

He’d prefer to be naked, to have Jake naked, but he is also all about fulfilling all of Jake’s wants and needs. Is glad Jake’s not holding back going for what he wants and knows it’s because they’ve got a decade of open and honest communication as a foundation even if their few later years of communication weren’t quite up to the same standard. He thinks they’re both there now. He runs his other hand over Jake’s ass, glad it’s bare now, runs a teasing finger between the cheeks, fully expects to feel lube but more surprised by the feel of firm silicon. A plug. He groans and pushes on it, feels Jake’s body jerk against him, his smile against his lips.

“Oh my god Jake…”

“Told you. Want it hard.”

“Yeah. Okay. Fuck. Turn around.”

He pushes Jake so he’s bracing himself on his forearms, ass sticking out, a strip of flesh framed by his jacket on his torso and covering his flank and most of his ass, the pants tight around his thighs where Jake has spread his legs to stop them from falling but also to give Bradley some room to just look. The plug is dark blue and he taps at it, wonders how long Jake’s has had it in. Waiting for him to come home.

“Fuck.”

He tugs on the plug, pulling it so the broadest bit is stretching Jake’s hole, then he pushes it back in, rubs his cock against the swell of Jake’s ass cheek and swallows roughly.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous like this.”

“Want to be gorgeous on your cock, come on…”

He huffs in amusement but he’s achingly hard now, wants to press into the tight heat and give Jake exactly what he wants. Just because he needs to, for his own peace of mind, he drags the plug all the way out and then pushes it back in, over and over, watching with hypnotized fascination as Jake’s body opens and then closes around it, all while Jake swears at him and thrusts against nothing. He grabs the lube, uses it on the plug and spreads more on his cock, isn’t going to give Jake any warning.

On the next pull out he presses in with his cock, feels the resistance give way to slick tight heat and he moans Jake’s name as he pushes forward, fingers digging into Jake’s ass, little circles of white looking like halos around each fingertip as he just keeps pushing and pushing. He pulls back slowly, controlled, and Jake lets out a shuddering breath that is partly his name. He presses forward again, leaning forward with his entire body so he can kiss the side of his head, whisper into his ear.

"Going to mess you up…"

"Please…"

He moves firmly, not slow and soft, but it’s also not as fast as Jake likely wants, not yet. There’s a difference between hurting him and making sure he feels this later though. He curls one of his hands in Jake’s hair, the other squeezing an ass cheek possessively, Jake’s legs spread as far as they can within the confines of his pants, probably stretching the limit of the cotton holding the seams together. He knows Jake probably won’t care if the pants rip a little, not at the seams. Those can be mended.

It’s only five or six firm slides, his pelvis pressed tight against Jake’s ass, balls catching on his bunched up pants than Jake jerks and presses back with more force, little grunting sound the tell that Bradley was waiting for. He’s glad Jake can’t see the smug grin on his face, wouldn’t at all work in his favor right now. He pulls back and snaps his hips forward, knows that this is what Jake was angling for, digs his fingers into the flesh of his ass and hips, pulls him toward him as he thrusts forward. Knows he’s likely leaving little bruising marks, that’s also part of what Jake wants.

He lets himself lose it a little, the feeling of Jake around him and under his fingers, the sight of his cock sliding into his ass and the ass almost hidden by the crisp white fabric, doesn’t know if he’s imagining the smell of starch used to make them stiff, the sound of flesh slapping but also muffled by the fabric. His khakis are sticking but he doesn’t care, can feel his orgasm approaching in the tight twirling sensation in his gut, building heat. Sex with Jake always makes him feel so good, glad to be alive all over again and that they found each other.

Jake is making little gasping sobs, none of the half-formed words he’s managing are coherent. He’s dropped to his chest against the back of the sofa, pressing his ass back and Bradley knows he’s close, his body taut with pressure. He's gorgeous. His. He moves faster, pace increasing as he watches and feels Jake’s body tighten, tighten, tighten. He moves a hand around to Jake’s chest, presses his fingers into the ribbons there. He pulls back and thrusts in deeper, repeating the movement, using the full range available without pulling out completely.

“Bradley… ah…ah…"

“Come on Jake. Make a mess.”

He increases his pace, can see Jake’s arm jerking, meaning his hand is working his cock, pumping furiously, and then he's coming, hand still moving as he comes and Bradley doesn't stop, keeps thrusting as he watches Jake’s body jolt and twitch and then feels the sudden crest of his own orgasm wash through him and he groans loudly, presses against Jake and moves in slow grinding circles as it shudders through him. He kisses the side of Jake’s face, wraps an arm around him and he smiles, lets them have the quiet for now. Know the snark will start back soon enough, although if he’s fucked Jake well enough he might be spared a few hours or even a day.

“You know, if this is the welcome I get every time I get back from being deployed I’m going to start looking forward to leaving you. Only so I get to come back to you.”

“Mmm,” Jake says and Bradley grins so wide he has to smash his lips together to hold back the little bubble of laughter that wants to escape.

“Sleepy huh?”

“Yeah. I’ve been looking forward to that for weeks and been fantasizing about it for years.”

“Oh… sorry I made you wait so long. You think we should invest in a set of uniforms solely for fucking around in?”

“No. I want you to look at me and know you’ve fucked me in it.”

Bradley groans, his groan echoed by Jake as he slowly pulls out. He steps out of his pants after toeing off his shoes, feels weird being half-dressed. Then he rubs his hands down Jake’s back and thighs, gathers him up and directs him toward the bedroom. Yeah, he’s definitely going to end up with a conditioned response to seeing Jake in his whites.

“I might need to invest in some sewing lessons.”

He bullies Jake into the shower with him, amused that he’s so soft and tired, kisses him and lets his hands roam everywhere under the guise of getting clean. It’s nice and reaffirming after their months apart and feels like a type of homecoming.

“Thank you…” Jake murmurs, forehead resting against his neck and Bradley doesn’t hesitate in kissing him again.

“Mmm, such a hardship. You really put me out having me do all that.”

“That was so good.”

“Come on, bed…”

They dry off, and he’s well aware that there are pieces of various uniforms strewn through the house, but it’s a tomorrow problem. He lies down and pulls Jake into his arms, lets himself be bullied into rolling so Jake can spoon up behind him and hold him, reaches over to turn off the bedside light.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you,” Jake says quietly against his neck, voice so quiet like he doesn’t want to wake him. As if he’s ever fallen asleep that quickly.

“You literally just thanked me…” Bradley says, amusement lacing his voice because Jake gets loopy when he’s tired and he’s not the one who has been deployed.

“Shut up. I’m being serious. I mean back in the beginning. Like when we first started chatting online. I’m thanking you for that.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. You were… nice. And good. You made me feel less alone in the world. So thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Bradley replies quietly, because they’ve spoken about it obviously, often and it’s something that they sometimes fall back on, writing things down when they’re feeling especially vulnerable. Written words carry more meaning for them, heavier with more thought and intent. Their tempers making spoken words too harsh, spoken too quickly. They know this about each other now and it fills him with confidence that they can overcome anything and everything thrown their way.

“You look really good in your dress whites.”

“Mmm. So do you,” Jake says and Bradley has to grin again, because he wasn’t even wearing his whites.

“Thought you didn’t have a uniform kink.”

“I don’t. I have a you kink.”

“Oh. I see. Good to know.”

“Next time we’re both in our whites will you fuck me again?”

He groans, yeah, definitely going to have a conditioned response.

“You don’t want to fuck me instead?”

“I don’t care, just… can we?”

“Of course. You know that.”

God, he’s never going to be able to say no to him.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

THE END

#online and anonymous #writing and wrangling woes #going to update that Master List again tonight

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mulloey · 3 months ago

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hundred bands

student loans, a sugar daddy website, and johnny suh. three things you never thought would find you in quite this way.

part of my february festival

join my taglist

words: 8.4k

warnings: bdsm dynamics - dom!johnny x sub!reader, degradation, slight humiliation, discussion of pet play & master/slave play, slight corruption, titles (daddy/sir), paddling, face slapping, subspace, brief moment of insecurity, face fucking etc

—

You wonder if this is how it usually starts; a broke college student, an overeager friend and a last resort.

It’s not like you wanted or planned this; your final year of university and your tuition fees were piling up by the hour; your loan had already run out and all your applications for more money had been shot down about as delicately as a war plane. You’re pretty certain you’re on the loan office’s blocked callers list now.

It was your friend’s suggestion. You already knew she had a sugar daddy—a man named Mark who she never let you meet and seemed way too young to be doing this but, based on the flashy clothes she’d started wearing recently, clearly had enough money for it. And contrary to your expectations of sugaring as she called it, he actually seemed very nice; she was constantly gushing about how well he treated her and he appeared extremely respectful and affectionate towards her on the phone calls you’d been privy to. So fuck it, you thought, and you signed up for the website she’d given you as soon as you were drunk enough to bring yourself to do it.

While this was undoubtedly a sex-focused service, she’d emphasised to you the classy nature of the site; no lewd usernames, no nude pictures of any kind; just a clothed photo that showed your figure, basic information about you, and the type of arrangement you were looking for.

PLEASE SELECT ONE:

Sugar daddy/sugar baby

Straight/gay/bisexual

Top/bottom/vers

Dominant/submissive/switch/vanilla

Your blush ran deeper as you made your way down the list, arranging yourself into categories that felt a little like being sold at auction. Sugar baby. Straight. Bottom.

At the final question, you hesitated—you thought about putting ‘vanilla’, a little afraid of what these rich, anonymous men might expect to be able to pay for, but the words of your best friend rang out in your head. “Be honest with what you want,” she’d told you. “Just because you’re doing this for money doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get any fun from it.”

She was right, as usual. If you were going to get fucked for money, then you at least deserved to fucked well; even so, you had to close your eyes in shame as you clicked the little box titled ‘submissive’. That was a side of you that had only ever existed in your fantasies.

The rest of your profile was simple; you almost backed out when they asked for your ID, not wanting to give yourself away, but visions of loan sharks and withheld diplomas squashed those doubts pretty quickly—you were going to do this. You were going to get some rich man to pay your tuition, and that was the end of it. You had no other choice.

To be fair to the site, it was pretty well and, considering what it was for, non-pervertedly designed. You were matched with partners based on your preferences, but no one could message you until you’d liked their profile. You spent a few minutes clicking through the profiles, haphazardly liking or disliking as you felt like it, until one made you pause.

The picture was of a man in a suit, cropped at the neck to conceal his identity; but you didn’t really need to see his face to know that this man… well. He was certainly an option. Just from that one picture, taken from below, sleeves rolled up and linen straining against his chest, you felt authority emanating through the screen. Yeah, this could work very well.

You clicked nervously on his profile, hoping not to find anything crazy or gross in his bio to turn you off of him, but it was, well. Normal. For this place at least.

Sugar daddy. Straight. Top. Dominant. A good start—perfectly aligned with you.

From his bio you found out he was almost 30–a decent bit older than you but not over the line; he worked in the entertainment industry, and he valued discretion. Likewise, you thought.

You clicked like without a much more consideration.

The message came through an hour later, just as you were sitting down for dinner; you couldn’t help but grin when you got the notification, opening it nervously.

Hey. Hope you don’t mind the intrusion, but you’re nearby and I’d be interested in getting to know you. Would that be ok?

At first you were a little taken aback by how… polite the message was. How normal. Given the nature of the site you were half-expecting something perverted and disturbing, but this man was taking you by surprise already.

You typed your reply with your bottom lip held painfully between your teeth.

Hi :) that sounds great! I’m free next weekend if you are?

Great. Saturday evening? I’ll take you for dinner, if you like?

Perfect.

The nine days between then and your first meeting pass surprisingly quickly; you keep in regular contact with your faceless friend, you both having agreed to keep things anonymous for now, and though neither of you dance around the reason you’re both here, you find it easy to have normal, friendly conversations with him too. You tell him about your degree, and he gives you small details about his life and work—a singer, he says. He offers nothing more and you don’t press; from the way he talks about it you get the sense he may be some level of well-known, and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. You’ll find out who he is on Saturday anyway.

On Monday night, just as you’re finishing up an assignment, your phone lights up with a new notification. You have his KakaoTalk now; it’s easier and more inconspicuous than the site and feels a lot less intimidating. The cartoon kitten on his profile picture makes you giggle as you open the message.

Now that we know each other a little better, would you be down to talk more about what our arrangement would look like, if it went ahead?

Yeah, of course. What are you thinking?

Can I call you?

Your stomach tightens and your palms tense nervously; you’ve called him before, but as you quickly found out, his voice makes it very difficult to concentrate on what he’s actually saying. You’re not exactly sure why; maybe it’s the deep, masculine lilt to it, but it sets your nerves on edge—still, you imagine this would be a better conversation to have on the phone, so you type your agreement with shaking hands.

Almost instantly the call comes through; “Hello?” You say softly.

“Hey, honey.” His voice is warm and familiar but still intimidating and the pet name he’s been using the past few days doesn’t make it any easier to keep a clear head. “How you feeling?”

“M’ good,” you mumble and he chuckles softly.

”Great. Well, I suppose we’ll just jump into it, yeah?” You make a noise of agreement and he continues. “Your profile said you’re a submissive. Can you tell me a little about that?”

You blank a little, already feeling out of your depth. You never thought this was a conversation you’d be having with someone, let alone a near stranger. “About that?” you echo. “Like, in what regard?”

“Well, do you have experience in that area?” His voice has a slightly deeper edge now; it’s focused and a little stern—clearly this is something he takes extremely seriously. “Have you submitted to someone before?”

“Um.” Your mind flashes with images of your previous partners; the varying experiences you’d had them but none of it seems to fit what you feel like he’s asking. “Not really.”

He hums. “So, if I had to guess,” he says, “you’ve been choked a few times, maybe spanked a little bit, and I’m assuming at least one of your partners wanted you to call him daddy?”

You can’t help but flush; that’s… exactly accurate. “Yeah,” you mumble. “How’d you know?”

“When people say ‘not really’, that’s usually what they mean.” You hear the smile in his voice and you wonder how many people he’s had this conversation with. You also wonder why the thought makes you a little bit jealous.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I assume you’ve gathered by now that I’m looking for more than that?”

Your stomach turns and you nod; it’s silent for a moment until you realise he can’t actually see you and you mumble a reply, embarrassed.

He laughs a little, seeming to realise what you’ve done before continuing. “There’s a lot I want to do with you, but I’m not going to dump it on you all at once, so we’ll start with what you’ve done already, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You said you’ve been choked,” he said. “So you’re comfortable having things on your neck.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’d certainly choke you during sex, if you’re comfortable. But I might use my arms rather than my hands. And at some point, I’d like to put a collar on you. How does that sound?”

“Um.” Fucking fantastic, you want to say, but you’re too embarrassed and still determined to play it at least a little bit cool. “It sounds nice.”

“Good. The next thing we mentioned is spanking, correct?”

You know you’re blushing now, shifting uncomfortably in your seat and trying to relieve some of the pressure between your legs. Something about the way he speaks so calmly and professionally about these things is really doing it for you, apparently. “Yeah,” you breathe.

“If I had to make a guess on that, I’d say they slapped your ass a few times during sex. Maybe a little foreplay, too. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, again, I’d do that too, but it’d be more than that. If you become my sugar baby, you become my submissive as well, which means you’d submit to my rules and discipline. Ya follow?”

It’s not a massive shock; he’d mentioned BDSM before, and you weren’t surprised given his profile—but hearing it out loud, in that voice, is a different feeling. “Yeah, I follow,” you say. “So you’d punish me? How?”

“Well if we’re talking about spanking…” He pauses for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I’ll give you an example. Say you broke a rule, like if you talked back to me or I caught you touching yourself when I’d told you not to, then I’d put you over my knee, pull your panties down and spank you til I feel like you’re sorry. How does that sound?”

“Oh.” There’s an undeniable pressure in your stomach and you try not to let the arousal seep into your voice. “That’s… wow.”

“Is that good or bad?” He asks. He’s laughing, but he sounds cautious too. It makes you feel safe, the way he’s genuinely concerned about your feelings on this; it’s the bare minimum, sure, but you expected worse from that website.

“Good,” you breathe. “Really good.”

“Oh?” He’s teasing now; you practically see the grin on his face despite the fact you don’t actually know what that face looks like. “Does someone want to be spanked?”

“I think… yeah.”

“That’s good,” he laughs. “I bet you’ll look really cute kicking and squirming over my lap. Don’t you think?”

“Hopefully,” you mumble.

“I’m sure. And the last thing we mentioned. You’ve called someone daddy before, you said. Did you like it?”

“Yeah.” You answer quickly; you figure there’s no point in shame now.

“I see.” He pauses again. “I usually prefer sir, but I’m not opposed to daddy, either.”

“Oh.”

“Speaking of.” There’s a playfulness to his voice now; a teasing lilt that makes you bite back a laugh. “You should get to bed, young lady. Why are you even up?”

“Assignments,” you say. “And what’s your excuse, sir?”

You hear the sharp intake of breath through the phone; the soft, strangled sound that dies in his throat and you feel a twinge of satisfaction. Yeah. I can play this game too.

He clears his throat, releasing an exasperated sigh and there’s a rustling sound before he speaks, voice dipping slightly. “My excuse,” he says, “is that I’ve nowhere to be tomorrow. Unlike a certain little brat.”

The final word is drawn out, teasing and warning at the same time and your chest tightens in excitement and a million other things. You don’t even know what this guy looks like, but fuck, he’s so good. You want to push his buttons and obey his every word simultaneously.

“True,” you mumble. “Okay, I’ll sleep.”

“Good girl.” The satisfied smile is audible in his voice. “See you Saturday, pretty.”

—

This man is gorgeous.

That’s your first thought when you see him Saturday evening; he’s waiting for you when your car pulls up, calling your name with a smile and wrapping an arm around your waist as he helps you out. He introduces himself as Johnny, and his voice sounds even better in person.

Your second thought follows not long after; you recognise him. You’d figured by now that he was probably some level of famous, but you weren’t interested enough in the whole idol culture to have recognised him from his voice alone; in fact it’s only when he tells you his name that you finally place him. You wait until you’re seated, in a private room you’d rather not know the cost of, before asking.

“I don’t wanna be too weird,” you say, “but you’re an idol, right?”

He laughs, nodding with a soft smile. “I am. Do you know me?”

“I’ve heard of you,” you mumble; you’re not sure why you’re so embarrassed to know who he is—that’s the whole point of celebrities, after all. You chuckle dryly, trying to ease the weight of the awkwardness you feel in your chest. “I recognised your face but I couldn’t figure out where I knew you from til you told me your name.”

“Ah.” His posture is relaxed, tone jovial but you see a surety and intensity in his eyes that makes you cower instinctively. “Heard any of my music?” He asks, and you can tell from his voice that he’s teasing you again.

“Maybe. I wouldn’t know.” You shrug. “I mean, I’m not really into that stuff but like, I’m obviously gonna look you up when I’m home now.”

“I figured,” he laughs. “Shoot me a text once you’ve decided I’m your favourite.”

“If I decide that,” you say, and he laughs louder. You feel yourself relaxing a little; his open, friendly demeanour could make anyone ease up and you can’t help but feel comfortable in his presence. Only his dark eyes, which scarcely leave you but to call over the waiter and order, keep you on edge.

You don’t know what any of the words on the menu mean, so you let him order for you—he seems to like that; choosing for you, making small, simple decisions on your behalf. You see it on his face.

As it turns out he’s very good at choosing, too; the beef dish they bring out is something your friend had told you about, when you’d mentioned coming to this restaurant and she realised she’d been there with her own sugar daddy. It tastes amazing and the champagne that flows with it is even better.

“Food good?” He asks with a smile.

“Yeah,” you say. “Is yours?”

“Perfect,” he says. The weight of his gaze on you is unavoidable and you twirl the spaghetti around your fork nervously, just wanting something to do to avoid his eyes.

“So, um.” You clear your throat, trying to think of something to fill the silence but nothing comes. Johnny watches you with a small smirk; all-knowing.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says finally. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You hold back a laugh, biting your lip and he notices. “Well, I mean…”

“Yeah, okay, I am going to hurt you a bit.” He’s grinning, and you realise he chose his words intentionally; though whether to ease the tension or tighten it further you don’t know. “But I do want you to be comfortable with me.”

“Yeah. I am, I think.”

“Great. May I ask you something?”

You motion for him to speak and he smiles; you think you see the first hint of trepidation in his eyes before it quickly dims into the usual cool intensity.

“Obviously it hasn’t been long enough to make a firm decision,” he says, “but just so I have an idea, are you open to the idea of coming home with me tonight?”

You swallow; your stomach tightens at the proposition and the visions it provokes and your response is whispered like a scandalous secret. “Like… to play with you?”

“Yes,” he says. “It doesn’t have to mean the start of a dynamic, and we won’t have sex; just think of it as a taster session.”

That doesn’t seem so bad, you think. And he’s careful, not rushing you into a dynamic or even pressuring you at all; that’s a good sign, right? “So what— um. What would we do?”

“Depends on your behaviour.” He winks teasingly at you from behind the glass in his hand and your head is in overdrive with the images he’d given you on the phone a few days ago; of being choked and collared and spanked by those impossibly large hands resting so tantalisingly close to yours.

You clench your thighs, swallowing dryly. “Yeah. I’m… open to the idea.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

The evening passes surprisingly quickly; the tension in the air has all but dissipated, but for the subtle movements he makes every now and then just to see your reaction; a quirk of an eyebrow, a knowing smile, a perfectly timed touch that sends electricity rushing through your veins.

You know he’s toying with you, studying your natural responses to small hints of dominance so you react with similarly small, playful acts of submission in return; cowering under his gaze, bowing your head—allowing him the first taste of the control you may soon surrender completely to him.

“So,” he says, once the waiters have removed the last of your dessert plates. “Would you like to come home with me?”

—

Five million won lands in your bank account as you’re taking the elevator up to his apartment. You make a noise of shock, staring dumbfoundedly between him and the notification, but he says nothing; just smirks ever so slightly as he guides you out of the elevator with a hand on your lower back.

Johnny’s apartment is pretty much as you pictured it; everything a successful man on the cusp of his thirties would go for—black, white and grey themes, a large TV, low, atmospheric lighting and a stunning view of the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows that loom over you when you step inside. He removes your jacket for you, pausing to take in the outfit you’ve chosen once again before helping you remove your heels. He’s careful and gentlemanly, touches feather-light on your legs as he slides your shoes off. You’re not sure if the image of him on his knees in front of you like this contrasts or enhances the feeling of his dominance over you. You think it’s the latter, somehow.

When he stands up you see that without the few inches your heels provided you, he’s even more imposing—and in his own house, on his territory, you feel smaller than you ever have before.

“Come,” he smiles. He’s removed his suit jacket now, but the dress shirt, slacks and shoes are still on; the soles click against the floor as he guides you down the hallway by the hand.

You stop at the end of the hall, hovering outside a varnished wooden door. For a moment you stand there silently and his demeanour seems to shift a little; he stands a little taller and his face takes on a new solemnity as he looks you up and down. You feel like you’re being inspected, scrutinised; studied.

Your gaze flickers towards the door—is this where he does it? Where he… dominates people? Dominates you? Are you about to walk into a room full of whips and gags and contraptions you’ve never heard of?

“Hey.” Johnny’s voice is calm and soft and stops your spiraling in its tracks. His lips quirk in an amused smile. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s not a red room.”

“Oh.” You don’t know why you’re so embarrassed—anyone would have assumed that, given the circumstances; still, you avert your eyes awkwardly, face heating up. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says. “I’m not offended. It's reasonable to assume I’d have one. But it’s just my bedroom, nothing too scary.”

“Oh. So you don’t… um.”

“I don’t have a red room?” You nod a little ashamedly and he chuckles. “No. I don’t need one. D’you know why?”

“Why?”

A large hand clasps around your wrist, making you shiver. “Because if we do this, you don’t submit to a room. You submit to me. Wherever we are, whenever I tell you to.”

You flush. “Oh.”

“Mhm.” His voice drops, veins bulging against his neck and he cuts a more and more intimidating figure by the second. You’re so ready.

”Do you remember the conversation we had about safewords?”

Of course you do; it was the first one you had once the pleasantries were over. “Red for stop, yellow for slow, green for go.”

He makes a noise of satisfaction and there’s a ghost of a proud smile on his lips. “Excellent.”

You watch as his hand grasps the door handle, pushing it down but not opening it. He pauses for a moment, gaze flickering back to you and you tense, nerves multiplying by the minute.

“Couple things you should know,” he says. His voice is calm and collected and it makes your head rush. “First thing. When you play with me, you’re on your knees, on the floor. You don’t stand or walk or do anything I do because we’re not on the same level here. Understand?”

Your stomach flips, arousal gathering in your chest and your voice is strained when you squeak out a pathetic “Yes.”

“Good,” he says. He’s smiling knowingly, all too aware of the effect he’s having on you. “Second thing. It’s ‘yes, Sir.’”

Then the door is pushed open, and within a few seconds two things become abundantly clear; first, Johnny is true to his words—you don’t manage a single step inside his bedroom before you find yourself forced to your knees, kneeling with your head bowed beneath the pressure of his hand on the back of your neck. He holds you firmly in position but there’s little force behind his grip; there doesn’t need to be. He told you early on that he has no interest in subduing you or compelling you to submit—you’ll submit to him because you want to, and he’ll give you everything you need in return.

The second thing that becomes clear is that when Johnny said he didn’t have a red room, that was only technically the truth—because sure, it’s not a strictly-sex-only room, and it’s not red, but there’s absolutely no mistaking what happens here.

A glass cabinet displays an intimidating selection of toys; whips and paddles and dildos and things you couldn’t even begin to guess the use for; a bar is fixed to a lower portion of the ceiling, and the ropes hanging from it tell you he doesn’t use it for pull-ups; but most noticeably and unavoidably, there’s a large dog’s cage filled with blankets and soft pillows sitting directly at the end of his bed.

He catches your gaze lingering on the cage and laughs softly; the hand on your neck travels up to rest in your hair, caressing you gently and you hold your head exactly where he left it despite your desire to nuzzle into his touch. You have something to prove today, after all.

“You like my cage?” You hear the grin in his voice, feather-light touches tickling against your skin.

“Is it… for humans, sir?” The size of it makes the answer obvious but you need to hear it from him; the confirmation that this is really as batshit and delightfully insane as it seems.

He hums, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. You feel his presence above you as he crouches down a little, voice dropping to just above a whisper. “It’s for very, very bad girls indeed,” he says. “But you’re not bad, are you, precious?”

“No, sir,” you mumble. “I’ll be good.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He stands back up, towering above you again before walking over to the bed. He takes a seat, staring at you for a moment before his he lifts his hand and beckons you towards him. “Come.”

You hesitate for a moment—are you really about to do this? Are you really going to crawl on your hands and knees towards this man whose face you’d never even seen before today?

Yeah. Apparently you are.

Your breathing stutters as you make the first movements; one hand in front of the other, then your leg, over and over until you’ve somehow made it, you’ve crawled across the room and settled on your knees at his feet. He looks elated.

For a moment, he says nothing; he stares you down with a calm, collected expression that screams control and you try desperately not to shrink under it. The first touch of his hand on your face is electric when he gently grips your jaw, stroking your skin with soft fingers. You feel—and are, to him at least—tiny.

“Sweet thing,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

You can’t help but mewl in response, every cell of your body reacting to him, nerves standing on their ends. It’s a completely new feeling and utterly overwhelming. You want it to last forever.

“Can I hit you, angel?” His voice is low, gentle, the opposite of the way his grip on you tightens with want.

You feel yourself throb, nodding dumbly. “Yes sir.”

He smiles for a moment before his face darkens; the impact of his palm against your cheek would be enough to knock you down were it not for his still firm grip on your jaw. You cry out at the sting, unable to stop yourself and he can’t help but smile. “So responsive,” he tuts. “I’m gonna love training you up.”

You bite your lip, holding back a grin. “I hope so, sir.”

“You know,” he says. “This is my favourite part of having a new sub. Figuring out what type they are.”

You pause. “Type, sir?”

He hums; a low, pleasing sound. “No two submissives are the same, but there are general categories you could fit most of them into. Some fit in all of them, in fact.”

“What are they?”

He tilts his head, eyes glinting and you see the way he settles further into his headspace, back straightening as he stares you down. Your lack of experience seems to do something to him—and that definitely does something to you.

“Well,” he says. He speaks slowly and carefully, every word chosen with thought. “You have your puppies. They like to be on their knees. They like to whine and bark. They like to hump.” His grip tightens on your chin, tilting your head upwards. His thumb pushes past your lips and into your mouth and you accept it greedily. “And if I told them to open their mouth for their master’s spit…” He parts your lips, pushing your mouth open; he hesitates for a moment, as though he’s waiting for you to object but you don’t; you just open wider. His lips twist into a smirk before you feel a wad of saliva land on your tongue. “They’d slack their jaw and swallow it like a good dog.”

He watches with a smile as you obey, letting the spit slide down your throat. Your head feels fuzzy and floaty and all the sensations in your body, from the feeling of the carpet against your shins to the arousal that twists painfully in your gut, feel distant and separate. The only thing that feels real and complete right now is Johnny.

“Seems you like pet play,” he chuckles. “I’ll have to get you some ears. A tail, too.” He strokes your cheek and you keen into his touch unconsciously. “Would you let me plug your ass with a little puppy tail, baby?”

“Yes sir.” The words are coming out on their own now, your body responding for you before your conscious can catch up. He smiles.

“You’d be a lovely kitten, too,” he says. “They’re not as much fun to play with as puppies, but they look oh so pretty in your lap. And sometimes it’s nice to have a pliant little thing that will let you use their holes without complaining.”

Oh, that does sound nice. You think you’d enjoy that sometimes, when you’re feeling softer and more fragile and just want to be cared for. And he’s so large and broad and warm that he’s practically custom made to have you in his lap. You’d fit perfectly and prettily and you sigh dreamily without realising. He laughs and you quickly regain yourself, blushing deeply.

“Sorry, sir,” you mumble. “Um. Were all your subs, like, pets?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve had a few slaves before as well,” he says. “They were lovely; obeyed me like it was second nature. Took all the pain and humiliation I inflicted on them and still wanted more. Almost made me rethink my policy on not drawing blood, but that’s not my sort of thing really; they took a whipping like nobody’s business though.”

You cower a little, gaze dropping downwards; this doesn’t seem like you. You’re more than happy to be hurt and humiliated by Johnny, but this just seems… too much. You’re not ready for that level of submission and you’re not even sure you want to be. You feel a faint pressure on your chest, a familiar feeling of having fallen short but you’re not sure why; you’re allowed to say no—when you signed up for the website you signed a contract which stated it explicitly, and Johnny himself has reiterated it to you multiple times. You don’t have to take everything he offers you and you don’t have to do or be or enjoy anything simply because he does.

So why does it feel like a shortcoming; like you’ve foundered and failed before you’ve ever started?

You’ve zoned out without realising, deep in thought; Johnny sees the gears turning in your head and clicks his tongue, nudging your jaw upwards again. His smile is warm and gentle when you finally meet his gaze and though his voice is still soft and patient, there’s a finality to it that wasn’t there before; a seriousness. “You don’t like the sound of that, that’s okay,” he assures you. “You should never, ever force yourself to do something just to please me, or to please anyone. Understand?”

“I understand, sir,” you whisper. The sternness in his voice tells you he’s not playing now; he needs you to know this and keep it with you.

“Good girl,” he praises. His voice lifts a little and you see the moment he changes tack, back to toying with you like he was before. “God, you’re pretty. I don’t think I could hurt a little thing like you that way even if you did want it.”

You whine without realising it; your mind is a complete fog now, control and awareness slipping away by the second but you manage to string the few words that come to you into a slow, stuttered sentence. “Are those, um… that’s all of it, sir?”

His laugh is fond and a little condescending, like you’ve said something adorably stupid. You feel warm. “Those are just some typical ones,” he says. “Ones I’ve played with before. You don’t have to assign yourself to any of them, it just helps me to see what you do and don’t like the sound of.“

“Right.”

“You seem to like being a puppy,” he continues. There’s a teasing edge to his voice and you hold back another whine. “I think you’d like being a kitten sometimes, too. Turning your brain off and just letting daddy use you, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Your body reacts of its own accord to the title; you shudder in his hold, slumping slightly as a soft moan escapes your lips and it makes him laugh softly, fondly. “You really like the whole daddy thing, huh?”

You nod, a little embarrassed—it’s not even that you’re particularly into it on your own, in fact you only called your ex that because he wanted you to. Sure, you enjoyed it and it certainly made him fuck you harder and deeper and better, but you’ve never explored it of your own volition. You’ve never felt the need to.

But something about the way it sounds so sweet and natural on Johnny’s lips, like he’s acknowledging a reality rather than acting out a fantasy, makes it all seem so right—and so exciting. He certainly suits the name; so big and so strong and in complete control of you. Yeah, you’re definitely going to need to try this out.

You see in his face that his own thoughts are similar; his eyes are fogged with arousal and there’s a thick tension in his neck as he swallows. “You definitely make it work.” His hand moves from your jaw to cup your cheek and he lets you nuzzle against it greedily, a smile twitching on his lips. “Cute. God, there’s so much I could do to you.”

“Do it,” you breathe. “Please, sir.”

“Such good manners,” he croons. “You need it so bad, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whine. You don’t even know what ‘it’ is, but you know he’s right; you’re desperate, feverish for it. For anything, as long as it comes from him.

“Ask me nicely,” he whispers. “Ask me for what you want, baby, and I’ll give it to you.”

“You,” you say. “You, sir.”

In a moment of desperation—or stupidity, perhaps—you reach for him, hands curling into the material of his shirt and grazing against what feels like a full set of abs beneath it. Wrong move.

He lifts you by the hair, dragging you to your feet and throwing you over his knee. Your heart pounds with expectation but he doesn’t hit you as you expect him to; instead he flips you over so you’re lying on your back, head resting on the sheets; your hair falls prettily around your face and you make the perfect picture of innocence. You want him to ruin it.

The feeling of his hand on your throat is electric; the other roams across your torso, groping your tits with a detached interest. He’s in no hurry, after all.

“Who told you to touch me, huh?” His words are growled, arousal filled as he grabs one of your tits and squeezes hard enough to make you whimper. “Here I thought you were gonna be good for me.”

“I am,” you whine. “Sir, I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I will.”

He’s silent for a moment, staring you down like he’s figuring out whether he believes you before sitting you up so you’re perched on his knee. He grabs your wrists and moves them behind you, folded over each other and resting against your lower back. “Keep those there,” he says. “This is your first lesson. You don’t touch what’s not yours and you don’t move a muscle without my permission. Understand?”

You nod dumbly and he slaps your face just this side of painfully. “Words, my girl.”

My girl. Why does that feel so delicious and warm in your chest? “Yes, sir,” you mewl. “I understand.”

“Good.”

And then his lips are on yours, colliding desperately and almost painfully as if he’s been waiting for this his entire life. His hands are in your hair, tugging your head backwards to allow him to place a trail of wet kisses down your face and neck. His mouth latches onto your collarbone, sucking harshly at the skin and you know it’ll be purple when he pulls away. It stings in the best way and a string of curses tumble out in a rush as you ride the high of pleasure. He bites down a little, making you yelp. “Manners,” he grumbles against your skin but he doesn’t let go, so you figure he’s letting you off with that one.

When he finally pulls away his eyes are dark and feral; all pupil and all control. His hands roam up and down the sides of your torso and he looks ready to tear you apart. “Where’d you get this dress, pretty girl?”

You pause, caught off guard. He was sucking a bruise into your skin a moment ago and now he wants fashion tips? “Um… a mall, I think.”

“Is it special to you at all?”

“Not really.”

“Good.”

With both hands he grabs at the fabric on your chest and yanks it apart; the material rips easily, crumbling in his hands and there’s a million sensations in your body as he yanks the remaining fabric off of you. The sight of your lacy black lingerie makes him smile and he fingers gently at the soft fabric of your bra. “How about these?” He asks.

“They’re not special,” you mumble. “But it’s my nicest set.”

“I’ll get you nicer.” The bra and panties put up little fight against him, and soon you’re completely naked and dripping on his lap. He pinches your stomach, just above your pussy and you whine. “Don’t ever wanna see you in cheap shit like that,” he mutters. “My girl wears the best, you understand me?”

“Yes sir,” you whisper. “Wanna be pretty for you.”

“Always are,” he grunts. He stills for a moment, stroking your thigh before he clicks his fingers, pointing at the floor in front of him. “Down.”

You obey wordlessly; you’ve adjusted surprisingly quickly to the automatic obedience he seems to expect—your body is already following his orders of its own accord even while your mind fades away into subspace and he seems profoundly pleased by it. You settle on your knees, staring up at him with wide eyes.

His lips quirk. Seconds feel like minutes until he finally speaks.

“Give me your hands.”

—

Your friend has been silent for two entire minutes. That’s how long it’s been since you finished recounting the events of the night before and looked up to see her staring at you with an open mouth. She looks… well, you don’t know exactly, but she definitely wasn’t expecting this. That much is very clear.

“Dude.” You force an awkward laugh, trying to break the silence that seems to judge you as much as you fear she is too. “You good?”

Finally she recovers herself and nods, raising the coffee mug to her lips and taking a long sip. She puts it down and you see a small smile pulling at her lips. “Yeah,” she says. “I just. Wow, girl.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t expect… that from you. I thought you were vanilla?”

You frown; you’re not sure you’d categorise your exploits with your exes as strictly vanilla, but to someone like her, who’s more than versed in the world of dominance and submission and had only ended up as a sugar baby later on, you suppose it would be. “I thought so too. Mostly.” You shrug. “But he’s really good.”

“You don’t say,” she snorts. Her eyes are wide and you recognise the faintest hint of arousal in her expression—recognize it at as the same one you’d worn last night when Johnny tied you to a chair in front of his floor length mirror and forced you to watch as he fucked you with a vibrator until you came all over his hands.

You can’t help but rub your thighs together slightly at the memory. You clear your throat. “Yeah.”

“Fuck, I can’t believe he paddled you, girl.” She sounds impressed. “I still can’t convince mine to do that.”

You definitely didn’t have to convince Johnny; when he bent you over the bed and ran the black leather paddle across your ass, all he needed was the word ‘green’ tumbling from your lips and he was convinced and ready to go. You bite back a laugh at the thought. “Yeah,” you say.

“Did it hurt?”

“Kind of.”

You’d expected it to be worse, honestly; the paddle was fairly large and he wielded it in his hands like an executioner’s sword but as he explained to you, pain wasn’t the point of this one. It hurt, sure, but it was a slight sting and then a dull ache that was pretty bearable once the first rush subsided. But that was exactly what he wanted; the leather paddle was for play, designed for sensation rather than punishment—punishment, he told you, would come in the form of a larger wooden paddle you hope never to meet.

“Jealous,” she huffs. “And he sent you even more after?”

You nod. The transfer of ten million won as you stepped out of the taxi nearly made you collapse.

Good girl, the note said. You could almost see the smug smile as he typed it out.

“You got a good one, babe,” your friend says. “Hope he keeps it up.”

So do you.

—

The position you’re in is becoming familiar now; on your knees in front of him, naked and bound by ropes that snake down your back and loop under your thighs. What’s not familiar is the silicone plug sitting snugly in your ass and vibrating on a low, constant frequency; not enough to stimulate or satisfy you in any way, but enough to keep you needy and on edge.

Johnny is slouched slightly, lounging in his large, leather armchair and tapping his foot against the floor. His gaze is firm and authoritative but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. He taps your cheek with his finger.

“What to do with you?” It comes out as a purr and you see his bulge beginning to strain against his slacks. Your breath hitches slightly, lips pursing and he notices, because of course he does; the grin that stretches over his lips is sly and scheming.

“You like my cock, huh?” He asks. “Haven’t even seen it yet, desperate girl.”

Your eyes flicker between his crotch and those dark, piercing eyes, unsure which is affecting you more. “Sir…”

“I’m right here,” he says. “You want it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Please, sir. Want it.”

He leans back, adjusting himself slightly. “Take it out, then. Do your job.”

You nod; you can do that. You really fucking want to do that, actually. It’s been over a week of this and you still haven’t seen his cock—he, meanwhile, has seen and touched and marked every naked inch of you.

“Yes sir.” Your hands are shaking when you undo his slacks; you falter slightly when the zip comes down and you realise he’s not wearing underwear and he cocks a questioning eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

You shake your head, blushing slightly. “No sir.”

“Good. Pull it out.”

His cock springs up when you release it from the slacks and it’s just as big as you expected-slash-feared-slash-hoped it would be. It’s thick and veiny too, already leaking from the tip and you know your eyes are wide and desperate but you don’t care. You’ve never seen something more appetising.

“You like it, huh?” There’s amusement in his voice, layered beneath the husk of arousal. “Good. I’m gonna train you to take it every day, make you a total cockwhore for me. Hold still now.”

He pulls you towards him, holding your head steady as he pushes into your mouth. He’s not exactly rough with it, but he’s clearly not too concerned with your comfort right now; any attempt to stop you from gagging or coughing up on it is for his own sake, not yours. He guides it down into your throat and you feel yourself tearing up at the intrusion. You splutter slightly, unable to avoid choking and he tuts, yanking you back by the hair to give you a moment to breathe before pushing you back down.

“Have to train that out of you,” he mutters. “Gonna teach you to keep your throat open for me.”

He holds you still, cock resting in your throat until you settle around it, adjusting to the stretch and the feeling. “Good girl,” he grunts. “Take it like that, all the way.”

He pulls you back again and you gasp for breath, spluttering slightly but even as you regain your composure you’re still suckling eagerly at his tip like it’s the only thing you know how to do. You feel the shudder that runs through him as it reaches his cock, throbbing on your tongue. “You’re too good at this,” he mutters. “Learning so quickly. Who taught you to take a cock like that?”

“No one, sir.” Your voice is muffled around his cock, drool dripping down onto your lap.

“Shit, baby, you were really made for this. You need a reward.”

The feeling of his shoe nudging against your knees makes you jolt. “Open,” he says.

When you spread your legs you feel the stickiness of your thighs as they separate and your face burns—you’re leaking like a fucking bitch. Johnny’s smile is the widest you’ve ever seen it. “Oh, baby,” he tuts. “Dripping all over my floor like that. You in heat, honey?” His voice is teasing, gaze sharp and he doesn’t miss the shudder that rushes through you.

Still being in the early stages of your arrangement, you haven’t yet had a chance to explore the different dynamics Johnny had explained to you the first time you kneeled for him; to feel what it’s like to be his puppy or kitten whatever he wants you to be that day. For now, you’re his straightforward submissive and though you’ve certainly fucked yourself a few times to the thought of him pulling you around on a leash, you haven’t felt in a particular rush to pursue it just yet.

But those words. That tone.

You in heat?

You remember your neighbour in high school who bred dogs; how she’d sit at the table with your mother discussing puppies and litters and heats. It’s a distinctively… canine word to you; to hear yourself, your behaviour described in that way is thrilling. He knows it.

His foot moves forwards until it’s in front of your pussy and you don’t even hesitate for a second when he tells you to mount it. He watches you with a calm, pleased expression. “Look at me.”

He’s biting his lip when you meet his eyes, clearly as afflicted as you. “You remember your first lesson?”

“Yes sir.”

“What was it?”

“Don’t touch, sir,” you whisper. “Don’t touch, or— or move without permission.”

“Good,” he nods. “Remember that. You don’t move unless I tell you to. And you certainly don’t hump. Yeah?”

“Yes sir.”

He curls a stray hair behind your ear and a smile flickers over his lips. “You’re gonna tie that up next time,” he says. He tugs lightly at your hair to illustrate his point and you moan softly. “I don’t want you looking like a stray in here. I keep my toys clean.”

Fuck, you love the way he talks to you; insulting and demeaning yet tickling all the right parts of your brain to make you melt even deeper into submission.

He pulls you towards him. “Keep that mouth open.”

That’s the only thing you get that even resembles a warning before he’s shoving himself into you again and there’s no pretence of gentleness or caution this time as he forces his way into your throat. He holds your head down on it and pushes two thumbs into the top of your jaw so you can’t close your mouth even if you want to—all you can do is gag and choke and take it until he’s finished with you.

You’re faintly aware of tears streaming down your face, but by the time they land on your chest they’re mixed with the door that pours from your mouth as he fucks in and out. You’re so overwhelmed that you scarcely notice the feeling of your dripping pussy rubbing agonisingly against his shoe and trying desperately not to move; all the sensations have blurred into one now and everything is the same, everything is too much. You want more.

When he pulls out you can’t help but whine, feeling the loss and he chuckles. “Never met someone so desperate for cock,” he says. “Born for it, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Your gaze shifts to the cock in his hands, still hard and leaking and your tongue swipes over your bottom lip, practically salivating. You shoot him a pleading look and he clicks his tongue. “No, sweet thing. You’ve had enough of that. Besides, I don’t think you’ve earned my cum in your throat yet. Push your tits out for me.”

You obey begrudgingly, disappointed at the denial but still eager to please; he rewards you with a slight nudge of his foot against your pussy and you buck against it, falling against his shin and he laughs and pulls you back by the hair so he can see you properly.

“So easy,” he groans. His hand slides up and down his dick with increasing vigour and he throws his head back in pleasure. “Fuck.”

The tightening of his grip in your hair tells you when he’s about to cum and you push your tits out further to catch it. He grunts and moans through his orgasm and your chest and thighs are a mess of drool and spit and cum by the time he picks you up and takes you into his lap.

His rough hands are tender and careful now as he runs a warm wet cloth across your skin, gathering the mess you made together. His fingers are rubbing soothing patterns on your neck as he‘a mumbling something you can’t quite make out. Doesn’t really matter, though; his hold is warm and familiar and the low vibrations in his chest as he speaks are strangely comforting against the flushed skin of your face.

Maybe it’s the endorphins or the headrush that always follows your scenes with him, but you swear you’ve never felt safer.

The money’s not bad either.

—

nct taglist: @bbdeongi @yabbadabbatuh @fancypeacepersona

requests open.

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #johnny smut #johnny suh smut #nct johnny smut #kpop smut #mulloey writes

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meemoop · 14 days ago

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hey everyone! So a lovely friend made my art into a brilliant master list, as well as formatted everything to look like the prophet. They chose to remain anonymous, but can we all just collectively gasp?!?!??

Check the link in my pinned post to view the entire thing! Thank you, dear, talented, amazing friend! 💗💗

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incognitopolls · 7 months ago

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Note– anon did not list the Nintendo Switch as an example because it occupies an unusual space between 8th and 9th gen consoles.

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

#polls #incognito polls #anonymous #tumblr polls #tumblr users #questions #polls about interests #submitted june 20 #games #video games #console #console gaming #retro gaming #retro games #retro consoles

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teamred · 10 months ago

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obvious

✩‌ merchant!qimir x acolyte!reader | fluff | angst | humor | 2.3k

SUMMARY | during an evening of drinking with qimir, he strangely asks if you've ever thought about dating your master.

WARNINGS | kissing, drinking, implications of a spicy time post-story

RATING | teen+

NOTES | again this is probably outside of canon but all i can say is ilq (i love qimir)

///

In the lower level of Qimir’s newest target of a store invasion, several drunken bottles of alcohol and used shot glasses clutter the front counter. You sit across from him on a high stool, as if you were a customer to his bartending.

Which wasn’t quite far off, since he was the one who poured and bought everything for you tonight. Qimir had called for a celebration; you had successfully raided a small village nearby, seizing all valuable goods and leaving no witnesses behind. You did it for yourself, but also for your anonymous master–the same one Qimir serves.

While you are your master’s dedicated pupil, Qimir’s tasked with being your resourceful guide. He follows you across the galaxy, always having anything you need at your disposal and knowing where to go, who to find, and how to concoct everything from anything.

Sure, he may be clumsy and occasionally overly inquisitive, but you’ve grown to like him.

So much that you're retelling the time when a female Gungan tried to fight you in a cantina on Tatooine.

“And so, it turned out they thought I was the one who stole her ex-boyfriend, but it was the human at the table next to mine!”

Qimir breaks into a smile and nearly spits out the lomin ale in his mouth. After a fit of coughing and swallowing his drink, he shakes his head fondly. He seems truly amused and fully relaxed, though perhaps mostly due to the alcohol.

A few beats pass. It's a comfortable silence at first.

But then he starts playing with the stem of his bottle, and the air slowly begins to shift. It shifts entirely when he asks the next question–

“Why aren't you like this around him?”

Him referring to your shared master.

The mixture of spicebrew, lomin ale, Corellian wine, and whatever else you had has lowered your filter completely. You answer frankly, folding out your fingers to list the reasons.

“Firstly, he needs to get me drunk. Secondly, he’s not you, Qimir. And third, disregarding everything I just said: how do you know I'm not?”

“Am I wrong?” he presses, his eyes fixed on you as he raises an eyebrow and takes another swig of his drink.

“I mean, if he eventually shows his face to me, maybe I could. But until then…”

Nonchalantly, you lift a shoulder and down the rest of what’s in your cup. After finishing, you lean back onto the counter, resting your chin in your upturned palm, and wait for him to fill your cup again.

And so he does, but Qimir becomes uncharacteristically pensive. Eyes focused on serving you, rather than on you. After pouring your drink, his playfulness with the bottle turns into a tight-fisted grip. Maybe drunk Qimir was more somber. Quiet.

“Maybe…” His voice drops to a lower, deeper register than you’re used to, his eyes avoiding yours as his mouth tightens. An index finger rhythmically taps against his bottle, like a dooming countdown. “Maybe he’s not sure if you’re loyal enough to see his face.”

The sudden slamming of your cup against the counter breaks his demeanor, and he’s back to being his usual, easily-startled self.

“Well, that frustrates the shit out of me because I respect him!” you cry, almost yelling at him.

Qimir’s gaze sharpens, giving you his entire attention, and you stare back resolutely. Readying yourself, as if confiding in him might reach your master’s ears, wherever he may be. Hell, he probably was listening with a device somewhere on Qimir, on you, or within the store.

“I obey him. I've killed for him. I’d do anything for him,” your voice slightly wavers, but you push on. “I am literally devoted to him with every breath in my body.”

There’s a sting in your eyes, but you refuse to let yourself show weakness, even if it’s just Qimir in front of you. Bringing the cup to your mouth, you let the burn scald your throat, drowning any trace of sadness or frustration.

You chug for some time. After a while, Qimir lifts a hand, but you abruptly stop drinking and interject with a tired chuckle and small smile; he awkwardly drops his hand.

The serious moment passes swiftly with a twinkle in your eye. You silently thank the alcohol for that.

“Although, maybe that's half a lie.”

In the corner of your vision, you catch the intrigued quirk in Qimir’s eyebrow, along with a flicker of anger. Barely noticeable, but it’s there, and you wonder why he would be angry.

You waggle a finger. “Keep this between us, but”—you lean in closer and drop your voice to a whisper—“I'm probably more devoted to you than to him.”

You exchange a glance, and the expression on his face shifts from seriousness to amusement, the flicker of anger completely dissipated. He mirrors your earlier stance, resting his chin in his palm.

“That's only because I help you all the time,” he says, granting you a soft smile that reaches his eyes.

This is a rare moment from Qimir, so you try your best to commit it to memory. Remembering his warm glow, the crinkles around his eyes, and how close he is to you. So close that the hint of the alcohol in his breath brushes your face, but it’s not as strong as you thought it would be.

“Well, there's that…” you admit, nodding, and you break eye contact as you say–

“But you're also my friend, Qimir.”

You barely breathe the last few words out in a whisper, almost as if you were ashamed to say it. But you aren’t–worry merely runs rampant as you fear rejection or something of a similar shade, despite it being just a platonic confession.

“I am?”

His reaction causes you to peer back at him. He draws his head back with a tilt, and you’ve never seen him so puzzled before. There’s a brief pause as he gives it some thought, his eyebrows furrowing in contemplation.

Then, he nods his head and his lips curl into a crooked, almost cocky, grin.

“Huh. I guess I am.”

You clutch your chest in jest and muster your best puppy-eyed frown. “Ouch, if I knew this relationship was that one-sided, I would’ve asked him for another one of his followers to replace you.”

The glimmer in his eyes reads as good-natured, but the blatant flexing of his grip against the edge of the counter says otherwise.

“You wouldn't.”

You push back, jutting out your chin and getting close to him again with a flash of a smirk.

“Oh, I absolutely would.”

You stare at each other, holding your ground.

But then he breaks the little game when he slightly drags his lower lip between his teeth, followed by a fleeting glance towards your mouth.

Your breathing hitches.

In an instant, the moment shatters when Qimir clears his throat and pulls back.

“Do you…” Qimir begins hesitantly, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing a random spot on the counter. He inhales deeply, almost as if he’s steeling himself, then continues, “Have you ever thought you and him could be, like, something more?”

“You mean…” You squint, searching for the right words. “...have I ever thought about dating my master?”

“Mm-hmm.”

You raise an eyebrow and stare blankly at him.

“You've met him, right? We’re talking about the same guy?”

Before he answers, he sips again from his bottle. You become entranced by Qimir’s Adam’s apple as it bobs with each glug. Maybe these thoughts were being filtered through beer goggles, but if Qimir wanted to know about your current ranked dating choices, he'd probably be at the top of your list.

A soft pop sounds as his lips detach from it. The word kissable flashes through your mind.

“I mean, I know he's not really the talkative type but–”

“But what if he's butt-ass ugly?” you blurt out in a screech, pressing your hands into your cheeks in your drunken state.

“He is not butt-ass ugly,” Qimir cuts in, more defensively than you expect.

You drop your hands and chortle loudly, so much that it echoes throughout the store. In disbelief, you grin ear to ear.

“I thought you said you haven't seen him before!” you say, holding out an arm.

“I—I didn't. Haven't! I haven’t,” he stammers, raising a hand and shaking his head. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “But why must you assume he's ugly?”

You groan, shaking closed fists and tapping them to your forehead. “Why else wouldn’t he take off that stupid mask?”

You glance up, seeing Qimir’s nostrils flare as he opens his mouth, but you quickly cut him off.

“And why would I like him that way anyway? All he does is just bark orders and share wise, yet oddly cryptic, phrases.”

“Hey, so do I,” Qimir retorts, flicking the tip of your nose with his finger. The force he uses makes your nose sting a bit, but you’re sure he didn’t mean to flick you that roughly. In response, you ruffle your nose petulantly.

You could definitely get used to being like this with Qimir more often.

“Yeah, but you’re not as cryptic,” you point out, “and he’d be lucky if he was half as handsome as you, Qimir.”

You lightly touch his arm, expecting him to bask in your compliment, but he catches you off guard with a chuckle instead.

“Why are you laughing at my compliment?” you ask, somewhat hurt.

“I'm just enjoying your company, my”—he hesitates for a second, as if catching himself from saying something else, before meeting your gaze—“my friend.”

The way he says friend hangs in the air, carrying an unspoken weight. He shakes his head, as if brushing off a thought, and laughs awkwardly. “I’ve gotta get used to that.”

Surprisingly, he continues to dwell on the subject of you and your master. “I mean, if you really think about it, the guy's probably lonely. Probably also likes you a lot more than he lets on and–”

“Okay, stop.” You hold both hands out. “Why are you trying to set me up with him?” You gasp, “Oh, my god–is he your brother?”

“Wow, time flies by so fast!” Qimir exclaims dramatically, quickly getting up from his stool and practically tripping on his own feet. “It’s getting late, and I’m gonna head to bed. Good night!”

In the blink of an eye, he’s already darting upstairs to his temporary bedroom.

“Qimir, answer me!” you call out. “Is he a distant cousin? You must’ve seen him before if he’s related to you.”

“Good night, my friend!” he hollers back.

“Qimir, get back here!”

“Sweet dreams! And drink some water before you go to bed!”

Even in moments like these, Qimir still manages to have the final say, his words always laced with the utmost care for you.

///

A few hours go by, the moonlight shining strongly in the night sky. In the comfort of your makeshift bed nestled in one of the corners of the store, you toss and turn aimlessly. Your mind replays everything with Qimir from the last few hours.

And then realization hits you like a sack of duracrete bricks.

You bolt upright up from the bed and switch between muffling a scream in your pillow and smacking it against your face.

How could you have been so blind to how obvious it all was?

Throwing aside your covers, you carefully and quietly tiptoe upstairs.

At the top of the stairs, with the help of a few burning candles nearby, you peek at the sight of Qimir snoring softly on his side, arms flopped in different directions; it warms your heart.

You approach and take a seat on the empty side of his bed, summoning courage to gently trace the contours of his face, following the sharp lines of his jaw. He stirs awake moments later, turning to face you directly.

“Hey, what’s up?” Qimir mumbles groggily. He rubs his eyes. “Everything all right?”

“Qimir, can you pass a message onto my master?” you ask urgently.

“Right now?” he groans in annoyance, sitting up. “Can't it wait until morning?”

“No, I'm sure you can pass it on now. It’s a pretty simple message.”

You lean in. It’s a quick kiss as your hand rests on his arm. It has to be quick, or else you might change your mind.

Plush lips press against yours. It’s still and tense for a beat, and then he replies with a slight kiss back. He’s the one who breaks away first, but he leans his forehead against yours.

“Uh, I… You want me to kiss him?” he asks in confusion.

You slide your hands to the nape of his neck.

“If you mean kissing yourself, then yes, Master.”

Like flipping a switch, Qimir’s demeanor transforms into something entirely else. His presence intensifies, exuding confidence and strength you’re unused to. His eyes darken, locking onto yours with a gaze that can penetrate your soul.

His rich, deep voice returns from before, now tinged with authority.

“Took you long enough, my acolyte.”

This Qimir—your master—moves swiftly with urgency. His grip on your body is firm, almost possessive. His kisses are passionate, his tongue exploring your mouth with fervor.

“Told you I'm not ‘butt-ass ugly,’” he mumbles, almost growling, between kisses. You giggle, but your giggle quickly turns into a moan as he presses his body firmly into yours.

“And my mask isn’t stupid. I'll have you know it saved me so many–”

You silence your master with another kiss, focusing on the present and pushing aside debates that could be saved for later.

For now, all you want is to remain in the comfort of his bed, letting the night truly begin, marking the beginning of what your master and you have unknowingly long awaited for.

#qimir x reader #qimir x you #qimir fluff #qimir fanfic #star wars x reader #star wars fluff #star wars x you #star wars fanfiction

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peachpitfics · 1 year ago

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Cruel Summer

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Following your romp with Benedict Bridgerton in his art studio, he asked your brother for your hand! Now you're on your honeymoon, and you're getting a little bored, posing for him. A lady must find ways to amuse herself!

Length: 2.1k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), Penetrative vaginal sex, unprotected sex, light bondage, food play.

a/n: This is an anonymous request for a continuation of 'Guilty as Sin'.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Benedict Bridgerton escorting you to view his artwork, at his private studio, was just the beginning of your story. After sneaking around behind your family’s backs for a small while, Benedict gathered enough courage to ask your eldest brother’s permission for your hand. This seemed strange to the y/l/n family, not one of them had ever seen the two of you together, which showed how much attention was paid to the middle child. Benedict made sure to ask you in the Bridgerton drawing room, just before family tea, for everyone to see. He made such a big to-do, confessing his love to you, before every member of the Bridgerton family in attendance. It felt particularly safe there, amongst people who took interest in who you were as a person.

It was bittersweet to have siblings who offered their time, their attentions, and their hobbies freely. You learned so many new things from each of them, from pall-mall, to sewing, even horse riding. In six months, you were married and moved into the Bridgerton house for the meantime, until after your honeymoon. You would never outright tell Benedict you did not want to move out, but he felt it, he knew.

“My love” Benedict whispered, shaking your shoulders gently. Honeymooning in Paris was something the two of you had instantly agreed upon. So far, two weeks of sleeping late, making love, and eating copious amounts of divine food was your only concern. Of course, there were a lot of other lovely things Benedict had planned for your honeymoon – river boat rides and romantic dinners, every moment between locations filled with fine bread, wine, and cheese.

“Yes, my love?” You grumbled, rolling away from him, clearly having not had enough sleep.

“You must wake up, it is midafternoon!” Benedict exclaimed with a chesty laugh, rolling you back into him and tickling your sides. You howled with laughter, pushing him away playfully, leaning up to distract him as only you knew how. His lips were warm and wet against your own, seductive, and luscious.

“You must come downstairs! The housekeeper has left us a feast and I wish to paint my gorgeous wife” Benedict slid his hands around your naked body, lifting you out of bed as you groaned.

“Again?!” “My darling, I’ll be painting you until death takes me” Benedict chuffed, sliding sideways between doorways and down the stairs to the sitting room.

“What if death takes me first?” You smirked back, figuring you had him cornered here.

“I have made God promise I am to go first. And even so, I’ll have every detail committed to memory and these paintings and sketches of you now to keep me company” Benedict squeezed you in his arms, he didn’t like to joke about parting ways, in any sense. It was his truest nightmare, his deepest fear.

Benedict set you down in the sitting room and gestured to what he and the house keeping staff had readied. Paint, canvas, a staging area - littered around the room were bowls of fresh fruit, bottles of wine, candles surrounded by plates of cheese, oil, and bread. You relaxed back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, cupping your breasts sweetly. You giggle a little, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He nodded to your position for the rest of the day, a chair with the back faced to a very high window, casting a streak of sunlight down upon the spot.

There you sat, for hardly an hour before your mind began to wander, circling Benedict in your mind like a shark in open water. You had learned to become comfortable being nude for long periods of time these days, however Benedict had learned nothing of your persuasion or power when your attentions were dashed. Your movements started slowly, daintily taking your hands to your knees, and spreading your legs wide upon the chair. Resting a little, relaxing your back and cupping your own breasts. Your fingers gently grazing your nipples. But nothing, no attention from your husband. He sat close to his canvas, squinting into the detail of his work, his realm of perception clearly inhibited. With a huff and a light moan, you continued to palm at your own breasts, fingers trapping your nipples in a pulling motion- you decided to pretend Benedict wasn’t here. Suddenly, taking notice, you watched as his brush left the canvas, his mouth hung open a little and he removed his glasses, almost tossing them to the floor.

“What are you doing, darling?” He mumbled, swallowing hard. Your hands ran down your mid-section, over your belly and down your thighs sensually, soft mewls slipped from between your lips. Benedict loved the sounds you made.

“I’m just amusing myself, continue on with your painting my dear” Your replying comment was nonchalant in the best way. Benedict almost looked offended that you would suggest he could go back to painting.

“How do you suppose I paint, while my wife ravages her own body before me?” He blinked at the audacity of you.

“Well, dear one, this is what you have chosen for this afternoon’s activities… Now, you must endure” You smiled, sliding your hand between your legs, dipping your finger in the wet warmth there. Benedict shuddered, wishing any part of him were exchanged with your finger.

If there was anything you had learned about Benedict in the last six or seven months, it was that his desire for you was consistent and all encompassing. Benedict watched on as your fingers circled your clitoris, you moaned and exhaled gently - his paint brush never did return to the canvas. Beads of sweat formed on his brow line, the hot, French summer finally taking its toll in the late afternoon. You reached to the small stool next to you, extracting the tiniest jar of honey. You looked into Benedict’s eyes, holding the jar above your body, dangling your head back and pouring a steady stream of honey over your chest. The sun glistened, reflecting little pools of light off your sticky, sweet skin.

Taking your finger, you swept up your belly from your navel, placing your finger on your tongue in clear view of him, and that was his very last straw. Benedict threw his paintbrush to the ground, thrusting himself up and out of his chair, to march across the room to you.

“What do you think you are doing, wife?” Benedict’s voice rasped, his eyes were so dark, the colour had all but gone.

“Playing, my love” You replied cheekily, sucking another nip of honey off your finger. He all but growled watching your finger slip between your lips, his breath quickening in sheer lust for you.

“Are you punishing me for getting you out of bed?” Benedict’s face was so close now, his nose tip to tip with yours. There was such tension in his jaw, his teeth clenched hard in his fierce need of you. You fluttered your lashes back at him, refusing to answer with your words.

“Do you have even a semblance of an understanding of what you are doing to me? This is unbelievably cruel,” He breathed heavily down on you, desperation flooding his body and adrenaline surging behind, “You can’t begin to imagine the things I want to do to you right now” His stubble gliding across your ear and cheek, making you shudder.

“Show me then,” You challenged, “You are my husband after all”.

Benedict’s hands slowly moved to his shirt, shedding it, and throwing it somewhere behind him. He acted with a sureness and a strength you hadn’t yet experienced, but it was drawing you in. Undoing his pants, Benedict took his hard member into his hands, stroking himself against your chest, lathering it in honey. His other hand wove into your hair, tangling the perfect hold, bringing you forward.

“Oh. Goodness. Seems I’ve made quite a mess of myself… Wife, help me clean it up” He smiled smugly down at you.

Something feral, untamed, was unleashed inside you, your eyes darkening, “Certainly, my lord”. As your tongue reached out to meet his tip, his head lulled back in pleasure, his hand still wrapped around the base of him. Your lips parted slowly, encasing his first inch, and swirling your tongue around to suck the honey from him. Benedict exhaled headily, his breaths deep, but quick with the slightest grunt mixed in. The way he sounded, even now, made you wetter and wetter.

There was something maliciously keen in Benedict’s eyes as he watched from on high, your pretty mouth sucking all the honey off him and then some. His body gently rocked forward, his hand heaving your head forward, onto him in a more perverse manner. His head hung back in greedy caution, grasping to the very last straws of his gentlemanly nature as you sunk to the base of him, your tongue wriggling slyly underneath.

His fingers grew taut in your hair, reefing you backwards. His laugh was low, both impressed and challenged by your ministrations. In the next moment, Benedict had hauled you up and over his shoulder, he was charging up the stairs, mad with temerity.

Entering the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed, scrambling for any piece of material in reach, he began ripping. Four pieces of silk fabrics in his hands, he loomed over you in profound ownership. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, Benedict taking each wrist and ankle, tying them to each to their respective corner post of the bed.

“There” He stood, hands on his hips, proud of his work, “There’ll be no more of that”. Clearly touching yourself had had a dire effect on Benedict’s work ethic.

Kneeling between your thighs, his naked body unjustly out of reach, Benedict’s supercilious smile sick with goofy dominance. He thumbs over your folds, his finger descending, extorting whines of pleasure you never knew existed within you. Broad strokes of the most painful, unapologetically evil gratification. Benedict’s tongue flicked over his lips hungrily.

“I need you” The words escaped you violently, the thrill of his touch, his charming smile becoming all too much for you. He ignored you and continued another moment or two, reducing you to a begging mess beneath him.

“Shall I oblige you, my marvellous bride?” His grin was jubilant and all knowing, his hands came down on your wrists, pressing them into the bed. Benedict’s brutal, familiar kiss sown into your lips permanently, as he pushed inside of you with surprise.

“Y/n” He groaned, growled with unrepentant lust. Your eyes cast wide, the length of him stretching you mercilessly while he thrust in and out. His villainous face claiming your entire consciousness as he used your body to his pleasure, decadent facial expressions, and damnable sounds he was delivering straight to your right ear.

“You feel unimaginably perfect” Benedict groaned, your moans joining in alongside his.

Hands grasping for silk to hold onto, you longed for your own release, grinding your hips back against Benedict’s. His movements became more ferocious, keeping up with the sounds you were making. Frenetic energy began to move through your body, your ravenous thirst for him finally quenched. Every muscle in your body engaged in vivid contortion, Benedict pressing into you as deeply as he possibly could before his own body found its own powerful release.

Covered in sweat and honey, you laid tangled together for a moment before Benedict recalled your wrists and ankles were tied. He chuckled with giddiness, sitting up to admire his knots.

“You look fantastic like this, perhaps we should do this more often” He suggested sweetly. His thumb caressed the side of your face, your panting, tired body unable to give a response. Benedict littered your face and neck with loving pecks.

“We could be one person and I still would never be close enough to you. No amount of time with you will ever satisfy me. You are the centre of my world” Benedict whispered gently. Every day you were reminded of the intoxicants his poetic mind dabbled into every sweet thing he said to you.

In another instant, Benedict had sprung from the bed, running downstairs. You laughed, thinking he must be returning with some of the food the housekeeper had left strewn about his romantically planned afternoon. Instead, Benedict returned with a new canvas and his implements. Your mouth fell open all on its own, blinking furiously in his direction as he set himself up off the side of the bed.

“If you could just stay there, like that, that’d be great!” Benedict’s grin, excruciatingly exquisite, and concocting. He held himself with such pride in his agendum, cockiness seemed to fill the room in a potent manner.

“BENEDICT!?” You squealed, tugging frantically on his bindings, your laughter filled with rich resolve.

--------------------

tagging: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

If you'd like to be added to this tag list, please let me know!

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nczennie · 4 months ago

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eyes on you.

Pairing: Reader x Ateez's San AU: Cam Couple Genre: Smut (18+ only) Summary: You and your boyfriend decide to hold a private stream with a generous subscriber in order to make some extra cash. Words: 5k Warnings under cut

Warnings: Smut scene (fingering, dirty talk, unprotected penetrative sex f. receiving, oral m. receiving, use of sex toys f. receiving, allusions to mxm)

"Baby," San calls to you as you exit the bathroom, the steam from your shower following you out, "Come take a look at this."

Walking over to where he sits at his desk, you move your damp hair over your shoulder in order to start combing through it. He hovers the mouse over a message and you squint and move closer to read it over his shoulder.

I once again enjoyed the wonderful show you both put on. I am reaching out to see if you both would be interested in a private stream. I am willing to pay the price you deem fit.

After taking in the words you look to San to see his reaction. He merely looks at you in return, eyes telling nothing.

You and your boyfriend opened an account on an adult streaming service over a year ago. Seeking to finish your masters degree while San was saving to open a dance studio with his friends made you both fairly desperate to earn some extra cash. It had started as a joke but once one of his friends mentioned he had an account during college and was able to afford his rent made you both wonder.

And now over a year later and you were a popular couple of the streaming site, both of you earning enough money to start a savings account for your dreams.

Private streams however were not something either of you were familiar with. There had been a few times where you had received messages requesting a private show with just you or just San but from the start you made it clear it was not something you were both interested in. Both of you feeling more comfortable putting a show on together.

That way, it was sometimes easy to forget there was an audience other from when San would read from the chat.

This request however was a first, seeming to request the both of you.

"What do you think?" You finally ask him, putting your hand on his shoulder. You feel as he shrugs, "I mean maybe it wouldn't be so bad with the both of us, and he said he was willing to pay whatever..." He trails off and you know he's thinking of the building him and his friends just bought. It was the first step in their dream dance studio but they just discovered a major leak.

Extra money like this would be a huge help.

You move your hand up to rub on his neck gently, "I don't want you to feel like you have to accept because of money, San. Private streams are a different atmosphere and we should both be comfortable if we agree."

Your boyfriend sighs, but nods. "I know, I've already been checking out his profile. He doesn't have much, no name, no picture. But he has been subscribed to us for nearly eight months now."

You hum look as he clicks to the profile of user195151478231.

Just like he suggested, the profile is bear, just the required age listed. It shows he's in his early 30's so at least there isn't a horrible age gap.

San moves around the computer quietly to check the settings of the user showing their stats on your profile. As he slowly scrolls through you both see how has checked into most of your streams and is a generous tipper. However when it comes to the chat there is nothing. This mystery person has not once commented in the stream chat.

You move to place a soft kiss on San's forehead, "Why don't you reach out and learn more about this anonymous person before we decide anything." He nods his head in agreement before you turn and head back into the bathroom to finish your routine.

It's only a couple of days later when you come home from class, dropping your stuff in the entrance before searching for San.

You find him comfortably on the couch, his laptop in his lap. "Hi, baby." You say greeting him with a kiss to his cheek. He turns his head to smile at you, "How was class?" He asks as you move to the kitchen to wash your hands. "Fine, just talking about the paper outlines." Drying your hands on a rag before taking a seat next to him, "What've you been up to?"

He turns the device to show you his screen better. Leaning in and taking it in to realize he was on the chat with the viewer from before. You take a minute to read through.

user195151478231: I once again enjoyed the wonderful show you both put on. I am reaching out to see if you both would be interested in a private stream. I am willing to pay the price you deem fit.

San&YN: Thank you for being a loyal viewer. I hope you don't mind us asking a few questions before we decide anything.

user195151478231: Of course not. Whatever I can do to make you both comfortable.

San looks to you, "What should we ask him?" You laugh softly, "You didn't think that far ahead?" He purses his lips, "I mean I know we should be comfortable with him if it's a private show, but what would make us feel better?"

Shrugging in response you hum as you think, this was new for both of you. "Why don't you ask if he does private streams a lot?" You suggest. You don't know what difference it would be if he did but it was something. San begins to type.

San&YN: Do you regularly participate in private streams?

He enters it and only moments later you see he is typing, obviously online.

user195151478231: I don't. Some years ago I did some private streams but stopped when I got into a relationship. But now that I am single again, and you've both peaked my interest I thought I would reach out.

Both you and San take a minute to read his response. "Would it," San starts hesitating, "Would it sound stupid to ask him how he expects the stream to work." You immediately shake your head, "No, we should be on the same page."

San&YN: We've never done a private show before. What would it entail for you?

user195151478231: For me? Well in the past, I've always had my camera on along with the streamer. That way we can talk to each other, help each other. Like a regular stream but more intimate.

After reading, you somehow feel more comfortable knowing that you would be able to see this strangers face, hear his voice. You tell San this as he thinks for a second. "But what if he's ugly and we can't get in the mood?" You let out a surprised sound and he laughs, "What? It's true!"

You frown, suddenly think of turning on the stream and seeing the worst.

His laptop dings and you see he's sent another message.

user195151478231: But again, this is about whatever you both are comfortable with.

You watch as San types.

San&YN: We are considering it, but would you mind telling us a little more about yourself so we know who we are getting into this with?

user195151478231: Of course.

You and San watch in silence as the stranger type for a minute. And when the notification finally goes off, you both lean forward, eager to see.

user195151478231: I'm 34 years old, I'm a property law lawyer in Seoul. Some of my friends and I started our own firm so I've been extra busy this past year. That's why I've turned to this site since my last relationship ended. I will attach a photo of myself as well.

As you finish reading another ding somes as the picture he promised pops up. "Oh." You can't help but say out loud as you take in the photo.

The stranger turns out to be one of the most handsome men you have seen. In the photo he's adorned in a professional suit, posture perfect and a small closed lip smile on his face. His hair is black and styled nicely, thick eyebrows and full lips. His tan skin glowing.

"Wow." San says despite himself. "Yeah." You say quietly as you both stare the the picture for another minute.

The computer dings again.

user195151478231: And my name is Seonghwa. Park Seonghwa.

If anyone were to ask if the only reason you and San decided to do a private session with Seonghwa was merely after seeing his picture, of course you would disagree.

But you can't deny it didn't play a big part.

Once he told you more about himself you both decided it would be nice to give it a try. He made it clear that you both could end it at any point you weren't feeling comfortable.

You let San talk out the price with him, comparing what he's spent before and making it more than a regular public stream, but sending him a glare when he suggest the full total of the leak repair.

Piece by piece it began to fall together and before you knew it, your private stream was set for Friday evening.

You had asked Seonghwa if there was anything specific he wanted for the stream, for example what he wanted you both to wear, but he requested nothing. Claiming for now it would be better to start naturally and get comfortable.

San had the great idea of looking through his tipping history. He found his biggest tip had been when you were wearing a white set white San in some business clothes.

So when Friday evening came along, you showered and dressed in a matching white lingerie set. Throwing a small silk nightgown over it. Adding some mascara, blush, and lip gloss before making sure your hair was in place.

You step out of the bathroom to see San setting up the streaming camera. He's bent over the tripod, making sure the view of your bed in centered. He wears some navy blue slacks and a white button up, not fully buttoned and sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms.

Once satisfied he switches on the warm ring light that makes for better viewing before smiling softly at you, "You look beautiful." You smile back and do a small twirl for him. "Are you nervous?" He asks as you walk towards him. But you shake your head. "No, not yet." You say truthfully, for now it feels just like any other stream but you figure that will change once reality starts to set in.

San checks the watch on his wrist before letting out a sigh, "We have a couple of minutes." He moves to grab his laptop to connect everything, making it easy to invite Seonghwa in once he sees he's online.

You sit carefully on the edge of the bed, running your hands over the soft sheets. "Do you think we need anything?" You ask him. Your streams often involved you both using toys and you wondered if Seonghwa wanted to see any of them. San shrugs, keeping his focus on the computer. "But I set some stuff out in case." You look on the other side of the bed and saw he had placed some items on the floor in reaching distance.

The next couple of minutes you sit silently trying to distract yourself of any nervous thoughts before San speaks, "Okay, he is online. I'm going to invite him."

Your heart jumps as it's finally time, taking a deep breath as San clicks around on the computer. A familiar noise tells you both it's connected as San moves back to sit beside you on the bed.

Watching the desktop screen in front of you, you wait patiently for Seonghwa's screen to load in. And when it does, you already find yourself blushing.

The man is just as beautiful, if not more, than the picture he sent you both. Even through the pixelated screen.

"Hi," the man speaks in a deep voice, a small smile quirked on his face, "Sorry, I was running late from a meeting." He states still in his business clothes.

There's a beat of silence before San clears his throat, "No problem, we were just setting up." You both watch as Seonghwa loosens the tie around his neck and rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up.

"You both look so good for me." He speaks out, causing a blush to rise even on your boyfriends cheeks.

He speaks again to break the silence, "It's okay to be nervous. I usually like to tell my partners what I want to see. Is that okay with you?"

Nodding your head you speak quietly, "I think that would help." You look to San to confirm. He nods his head.

Seonghwa nods before leaning back in his chair. "Let's start off easy then. Why don't you guys kiss for me."

The way he adds "for me" at the end of his sentences causes a heat to pool in your stomach. You turn eagerly to San, letting his hand reach to cup your cheek.

San kisses you gently but deeply. His tongue heavy in your mouth and you know he wants to make sure Seonghwa can see. His hand roams the silk of your gown before moving to your knee. The kisses become messier and embarrassing loud but you hear Seonghwa hum from the computer.

Your boyfriend's hand runs up your thigh, catching your gown and bringing it up further, displaying your soft skin to the camera. He pulls away with spit coated lips, "Sit on my lap, baby." He says lowly but enough for Seonghwa to hear.

Throwing your leg over him, you settle down on his lap, moving your mouth eagerly to meet his again. San groans in appreciation of your weight on him, both of his hands coming to grip the backs of your thighs.

Both of you staying kissing like this for a moment before San seems to remember you had a show to put on.

You feel his hands move, gliding up the back of your thighs and under the silk of your dress. Humming against his lips as he moves them over the cheeks of your ass, pulling your dress up with him.

San holds your waist, keeping the bottom of your dress crumpled in his hands, leaving you exposed to Seonghwa's view. Nothing covering you except for the tiny white underwear you carefully chose for him. "What a pretty view." You hear come from the computer. San replies by sending his hand to smack against your ass, a whine breaking from your mouth. You hear Seonghwa groan as San moves you to sit beside him on the bed once again.

Your boyfriend leans in to kiss you once more, tongue leading the way before his wet kisses leave your mouth and travel down your jaw to your neck. You let out breaths of pleasure tilting your head to the side allowing San even more room to work his lips and tongue against you.

You find yourself opening your eyes and making eye contact with the handsome man on the screen. Seonghwa smirks when he catches your gaze, hands moving to slowly unbutton the buttons of his shirt, the tie he once more nowhere to be found.

San's teeth nibble lightly on your skin causing you to close your eyes, mouth falling open with pleasure before he pulls away. He gives you a smug smile before reaching to grab the hem of your dress, finally pulling it up over your head.

"I want to see her properly, do you think you can sit her on your lap for me?" Seonghwa speaks gruffly through the screen and you and San both turn your attention to him. You blush further taking in the sight of his tanned bare chest, fully on display now that the white shirt is unbuttoned.

You let San situate himself at the end of the bed before he pulls you on his lap, facing Seonghwa with a blush. The man only smirks, "There we go." He says as San resumes kissing on your neck, his warm hands traveling up your bare stomach to the white lace of your bra.

He caresses you over the material before pulling the cups down, letting your breasts spill out. His thumbs automatically coming up to roll over your hardened nipples. A sigh of pleasure leaves you as you keep your gaze on Seonghwa. It's sort of strange to see him, a viewer, merely taking pleasure in watching you both. It's hard to imagine this is what the thousands of viewers look like when you put on a normal stream. There's a moment when you wonder if you should be talking to him or merely put on a show for him to watch.

But then again he was the one who told you he would tell you what he likes so you try not to stress. Especially when San moves to unclasp your bra, pulling it down your arms and tossing it to the floor.

San moves his hands up to fully massage your breasts, tongue teasing your neck which causes you to rut yourself against his lap. Seonghwa hums, "I bet she's really wet, isn't she? Will you show me?"

At the request one of San's hands moves down your torso, slipping into your panties and dipping a few fingers into the wetness Seonghwa knew was there. "So fucking wet." He speaks bringing his hand back up and slipping the fingers into your mouth which you take eagerly.

"Fuck." Seonghwa groans at the sight of you tasting yourself and you notice the way his hand dips below the screen as you move your tongue around San's fingers.

"C'mon, lean back, baby. Let him see you." San says removing the fingers from your mouth to adjust you. You lean back into his chest as you let San spread your legs over his thighs; the damp spot on your white panties now fully on display for Seonghwa.

San wastes no time, pulling your panties to the side, your glistening core now fully displayed for the camera. Seonghwa hums out, "I love your pretty pussy, baby. Look how wet you are."

Your boyfriend pushes two of his fingers through your folds, spreading your wetness with a slick sound. His fingers come up to circle around your clit causing you to whine out, eyes feeling heavy as you keep your gaze on Seonghwa.

He takes his fingers and pushes them slowly in your hole, mouth opening silently as he stretches you out. Once they're fully in he moves them rapidly, moans starting to fill the room barely covering the sound of the squelching.

"That's it, fuck her open," Seonghwa says deeply, "Add another finger, San. Get her ready for your big cock."

You can tell that Seonghwa's words are effecting your boyfriend from the way he bucks into you. Listening to his instructions as he pushes another finger into you with little resistance. "She's tight, isn't she?" Seonghwa speaks again, clearly trying to draw San into the game. "So fucking tight," San speaks gruffly into your ear, sending a shiver through you. "You'd love this pussy." He says again, your head falling back onto his shoulder at his words. Imagining Seonghwa here with you physically adding to your pleasure as San's fingers continue to fuck into you.

You start to squirm, the pleasure taking ahold of you but Seonghwa is quick to notice. "Don't let her cum, San. Not yet. Want to see her cum on your cock."

San listens immediately, wet fingers leaving you, automatically coming up to slap on your clit a few times causing a sob to leave you. You take a moment to attempt to catch your breath as your boyfriend works to completely remove your panties from you. Tossing them to the ground with your other clothing.

He makes you sit up for a second working behind you to get his cock out of his pants as you turn your attention to the man on the screen. "You're doing so well." He compliments with a smirk, reaching to completely remove his shirt. The sight of his tan body causing you to gulp.

San reaches to pull you back against his chest. His slacks and underwear now kicked to the floor as you feel his hard cock ghost over your core.

He maneuvers you into the right position, leaning into him and legs bent, making sure Seonghwa would have the perfect view. With a groan he pushes the thick head of his cock into your soaking hole. Taking his time pushing the rest of his length in with ease. "Fuck, that's good." Seonghwa compliments, pushing his chair back, allowing you to see more of him as he reaches to undo his belt.

Seonghwa undoes his pants as he keeps his eyes on you, letting his hand wander over his hardening cock over his underwear. It seems San enjoys the sight as well his his reaches to hook your legs on his arms, planting his feet firmly on the floor before fucking up into you at a pace that nearly has you drooling.

"Yes, yes, yes." Falls from your mouth as you moan loudly, the feeling of Sans cock sliding against the walls of your cunt too good to conger up any other words. It doesn't take long before you're close, the intensity of his thrusts mixed with the watchful eyes of Seonghwa were enough to quickly push you over the edge. "I'm cumming." You whine out, closing your eyes and and trying to close your legs from the overwhelming feeling.

But Sans strong grip keeps them open, though he does slow his thrusts to help you ride your pleasure out. "What a good girl, cumming all over his cock." Seonghwa groans, giving his covered length a firm squeeze.

As you breathe heavily, San begins to speed his thrusts up again, "Love you squeezing my cock like that, baby." He compliments, obviously ready to chase his own high. But Seonghwa speaks up, "Pull out, San. I don't want you to finish yet."

Your boyfriend hesitates for a second, and you can tell he is contemplating listening or not. For San is surely not used to the one following orders instead of giving them.

But sure enough, after a moment, he slips from your warmth, his still hard cock slapping against your sensitive clit. "Good boy." Seonghwa says nonchalantly, not giving either of you a second to dwell on it before he speaks again. "Do you have any toys near you, a dildo?"

You blink before nodding, looking towards San as if to tell him to grab what he set out earlier. San stands moving to the side of the bed, and you watch as he quickly unbuttons his shirt and removes it before grabbing the dildo from the floor and returning to the bed.

At the sight, Seonghwa smirks before nodding. "Here's what I want you to do." He says.

He says your name causing you to look at him, "I want you to pretend that's my cock, do you understand? I want you to be a good girl and ride my cock for me." You bite your lip, nodding quickly.

"And you still need to take care of our San." He continues, "So while you take my cock in your pussy, you need to take his in your throat. I've seen what you can do." Seonghwa speaks making you press your thighs together, whimpering as you're still sensitive.

San moves to place the toy on the bed, holding it in place as he motions to you, "C'mon, baby, sit on his cock."

You straddle the toy carefully, your back facing the camera as you slip easily into your hole, the wetness from before making you bottom out quicker than you anticipated, a cry leaving your mouth.

Moaning as you start to move, you lean forward on your hands, starting to ride the toy quicker. Your ass slamming down as you turn your head, eager to see what Seonghwa thinks. And it does not disappoint as you find him finally fully naked, long cock in his hand as he strokes to the rhythm of how you move on the toy.

"Love this view, can see you taking my cock so well." He groans as you pull back up, cunt leaving a soaking trail as it squeezes around the dildo.

You feel San move on the bed, looking as he kneels on his knees just beside you, hard cock in his hand as he waits for your attention. When you finally look up at him, he smirks, loving how fucked out you look, mouth open from your moans.

"Open up, baby." He says moving forward, pushing the head of his cock past your wet lips. You groan as you take him in your mouth. The heaviness of his cock on your tongue only adding to your pleasure as you swivel your hips around the toy.

You let San thrust into your mouth, keeping your hands firmly in the sheets to steady yourself. He stays shallow until you look up at him, your eyes meeting his and the look of your lips around his cock causing him to groan. San places his hand gently on your cheek, stilling you as he pushes his cock fully into your mouth.

Your boyfriend lets out a deep moan, head tilting back in pleasure as you expertly take him into your throat. It's not an easy task but he's trained you well. You keep your breath steady and eyes closed as he begins to move once more.

"Fuck, yes." Seonghwa calls from the screen, obviously enjoying what he's asked you both to do. San keeps his hand on your cheek, thumb running over it, almost romantically if it wasn't for the gurgling sounds that leave your mouth as he fucks your throat.

Your watering eyes look up at him once more causing him to break, "Fuck, I'm cumming." He groans, "Need you to swallow it, baby." He moans, holding your cheek as he settles in your throat, your nose pressed firmly to the skin of his pelvis as you still yourself.

San cums with a twitch, his moans barely breaking through the ringing of your ears as his seed runs down your throat. When you attempt to swallow around him, he pulls out of your mouth with a hiss, already feeling sensitive.

You let yourself breathe deeply for a second before sticking your tongue out at your boyfriend, showing him you've swallowed all he gave you. He hums, leaning to give you a couple kisses, "Good girl."

At the compliment you start to bounce once again on the toy, eager to chase another high. "San, since she was such a good girl, why don't you help her cum on my cock." Seonghwa speaks up.

You let out a moan without even looking, San moving towards the end of the bed. He pushes down on your lower back, making you lean against your forearms, spreading your legs even wider wanting Seonghwa to have the perfect view.

San grabs ahold of the toy, getting a firm grip before fucking it quickly into you. The wetness of your hole sounding loudly. "Yeah," Seonghwa groans, "Help me fuck her." He speaks and although you can't see him, you picture his hand moving quicker along his cock. "Please," You whine out loudly, so close to the edge you nearly cry.

Your boyfriend keeps his fast pace steady, leaving closer as he presses kissed onto your raised ass, his other hand sneaking under you to rub circles on your clit.

You sob into the sheets, feeling overwhelmed in the pleasure you're receiving until you finally snap. Your orgasm washing over your body completely, pleasure flooding your veins as you fall onto your stomach, trapping Sans hand underneath you.

He removes the dildo from you slowly, leaving kisses on you ass and up your back as you recover. But you didn't have long.

You hear Seonghwa call your name, "I'm gunna cum, can you get up for me?" Though nearly dazed, you sit and turn to face the camera. Making sure to look straight at Seonghwa and not your own view in fear of what a mess you look.

"Clean yourself off my cock." He says breathlessly. You blink and San holds the dildo to your mouth. You lick over the plastic head before closing your lips over it. You watch him pleasure himself through the screen, making sure to open your mouth and use lots of tongue in order to put on a proper show.

Seonghwa speaks again, "San, help her."

Your boyfriend glances at the screen unsure of what he means, he was already holding the toy for you.

"Your tongue, use your tongue." He speaks and you almost freeze. Never in your time with San had you seen him do something like that. You know his past relationships were different, but you've never seen that side of him.

He hesitates for a second before slowly leaning forward, tongue sticking out to lick along the toy where your mouth didn't cover. "Yes," Seonghwa groans out as you both continue to silently work the toy.

You can tell he's close as his movements quicken and his breathing can be heard from the computer. Both you and San let your tongues lick over the fake cock, a small moan leaving your mouth as your tongues meet along the toy. The action sending a spark to your core. Seonghwa must enjoy it too as he finally groans loudly, "Fuck yes, gunna cum. Gunna cover your tongues. Fuck." He lets out as you watch with burning cheeks as he throws his head back onto the chair, ropes of his cum coating his fist and pelvis.

You take in his beauty for a second more before glancing at San who meets your gaze. His cheeks just as flushed as yours as you have a feeling that something in your relationship just shifted.

625 notes · View notes

yunopouts · 2 years ago

Text

scream - l. jeno

-> lee jeno x fem reader

-> frat! au, pure smut (jeno lee is one nasty mother fucker in this one y'all)

-> CW: dom! jeno, rough sex(??), choking, edging, a small... TINY (VERY TINY) bit of ass play, protected sex, handjob, overuse of the word fuck, overstim, head god jeno, fingering, spitting, squirting, slight praise, lots of crying (reader), dumbification, marking/biting, scratching, blood, nipple play, gagging, bdj (big dick jeno LMFAOO)

-> a/n: this is my apology for going on such a long break T-T, i'm telling you i didn't even realise it went on for that long. i was checking in every now and then but i feel so bad T-T anyways! I'm back :P this one doesn't have THAT much dialogue, so i hope you guys enjoy the gory details 😁 also i think this is the filthiest, most smutty, smut i've ever fucking written, and i've written a lot... trust me on this.

-> upcoming: dilf! jaehyun next week and maybe another halloween special idk. oh btw, everything has some sort of halloween aspect to it :)) psst! requests are open!!

-> word count: 4.2k!

-> also p.s: idk how to explain the way he's acting in this fic... he's like very sweet and cute when he's kissing, but he's being a bitch when he's fucking and being rough... idk, i hope you understand what I mean. but also, as rough as he maybe, he's very touchy-feely and kissy :D ANYWHO! I present to you, six pages of pure filth!

safe! master list

mature! masterlist

“When you said we’re going to a party, I didn’t know it was a frat party.” Minjeong said as the three of you walked through the door. The house reeked of weed and sweat, all the criteria for a proper frat party, except everyone is in a Halloween costume.

“Girl, where else would the party have been?” Jimin scoffed lightly. She paused in the doorway, looking down at her phone before she sighed. “Apparently Sungchan’s waiting for me in the living room, I’ll see you two later?” Both you and Minjeong nodded, wishing the girl goodbye and watched as she walked away in her cheerleader costume.

Turning to each other, you silently agreed that the first thing you needed was a drink, so you headed off to the kitchen.

“I forgot to tell you how hot you look in that outfit.” She said in your ear, loud enough for you to hear over the music, and you gave her a smile while you poured yourself a drink.

“So do you,” you whistled as you looked her up and down, the way the gross boys in movies do when they spot a hot girl.

Together, you looked like an odd pair, seeing as you were dressed up as Jennifer, from Jennifer’s Body, and Minjeong was Little Red Riding Hood. The music thumped through the air as the two of you stood in the crowded kitchen, surrounded by costumed partygoers. The laughter and chatter blended with the bass, creating a symphony of Halloween revelry. Your playful compliment still lingered in the atmosphere, adding a touch of warmth to the otherwise chilly, dimly lit room. You took a sip from your drink, the alcohol burning your throat, but your attention was momentarily drawn away from the sensation by something else. From across the room, you spotted a familiar figure, the ever so iconic Ghost Face mask, in the back corner, talking to a boy dressed up as a mummy.

The menacing presence seemed to defy the festive atmosphere, and your eyes were drawn to it as if by some magnetic force. The Ghost Face mask turned slowly in your direction, and even though you couldn't see their face, you felt a shiver race down your spine. It was as though an invisible connection had formed between you and the enigmatic figure, a connection that transcended the costume and the anonymity it provided. There was something magnetic about their presence, something that sparked a potent and unspoken attraction.

For a brief, electrifying moment, your eyes met those hidden behind the Ghost Face mask. Time seemed to stand still as you locked onto each other, and a subtle, unspoken acknowledgment passed between you, like a silent agreement in the midst of the raucous party. Your heart quickened, and the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that charged moment.

Feeling a surge of heat and anticipation, you reluctantly tore your gaze away from the enigmatic figure and turned back to Minjeong, who had been watching the silent exchange with keen interest. She met your eyes, and the shared understanding between you two was palpable. “You saw him too, didn’t you.” Minjeong said in a way that had her sounding winded. With a knowing smile and another sip of your drink, you and Minjeong silently toasted to the unspoken intrigue that had captured your attention.

As the night continued, the magnetic pull you felt towards the Ghost Face figure in the corner didn't wane. It was like an invisible thread connected the two of you, and despite the ongoing revelry, your attention kept drifting back to that mysterious presence.

Minjeong, ever perceptive, nudged you and raised an eyebrow as if to say, "Why not go for it?" Encouraged by her silent urging, you decided to take the initiative. Setting down your drink, you nodded toward the Ghost Face figure, indicating your intention to approach.

Minjeong gave you an encouraging thumbs-up before disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to navigate the sea of Halloween costumes on your own. You weaved through the dancing crowd, anticipation growing with each step.

As you approached, the mask-wearing figure seemed to sense your approach and turned slightly in your direction. They leaned against the counter with their arms crossed over their chest, waiting for you to arrive. The closer you got, the more you could feel the intensity of the connection between the two of you.

Finally standing face to face, the silence was almost deafening. The mask stared at you, unmoving, but you could sense a palpable tension beneath it. Without exchanging words, you both seemed to understand that this moment was special, a secret shared between you in the midst of chaos.

Slowly, your hand extended, and you reached for the Ghost Face mask. Your fingertips brushed against it, and you felt a rapid heartbeat beneath your touch. The mask gave the slightest nod, and you grasped it, carefully pulling it up.

Beneath the mask, a pair of intense, dark eyes met yours. You were momentarily lost in their depth, captivated by the enigmatic stranger who had held your attention all night. The corners of your lips curved into a small, knowing smile, and a spark of recognition flared in those deep, mysterious eyes.

The unspoken tension that had been simmering between you erupted in a whirlwind of excitement. It was a dance of anticipation and curiosity, an unspoken agreement that you had both been waiting for this moment. And even though the music continued to thump, and the crowd continued to revel, for that brief, electric moment, it was just the two of you, locked in a silent, thrilling connection.

You told him your name when he asked for it, and he introduced himself as ‘Jeno’.

“You wanna take this upstairs?” he asked with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You sucked in a breath and nodded before he pulled the mask back down and took your hand in his to lead the way through the crowd.

The staircase was crowded with a few people, Minjeong included. You spotted her talking to a girl in fairy costume and when you caught her eye, she gave you a grin, wider than you’ve ever seen.

Every now and then, Jeno’s leather gloved hand would lightly squeeze yours as you climbed up the stairs. You held on a little tighter each time, but before you knew it, you were standing in front of a room with a big ‘JN’ poster hanging in the middle.

The boy opened the door for you and let you enter first before entering himself. The door clicked shut behind you as you sat down on the bed, your eyes locked on Jeno's every move. With a seductive confidence, he slowly peeled off the Ghost Face mask, revealing a mischievous smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

As he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours, you sucked in a breath in response to the sensual tension that crackled between you. His gloved hands, still gripping the mask, dropped to his sides, and he advanced with a slow, deliberate purpose. The room was drowning in desire, and you couldn't tear your gaze away from him.

Jeno moved in until he was standing directly in front of you. His presence was magnetic, and you found yourself unable to resist as he placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin. The touch was electrifying, and you leaned into it, your eyes closing as you savored the sensation. You reached up slowly and pulled his hands away, suddenly regretting it, but you went on with pulling the leather gloves off, exposing a set of large, veiny hands.

Kicking off your shoes, you moved to the top of his bed and watched as he concentrated on your every move with dark eyes. In a flash, Jeno had pulled off the cloak, leaving his chest exposed and him only in his jeans. It felt like you were freezing without his touch on you, but soon enough, he was in front of you, inspecting your face before his eyes ultimately landed on your lips that were stained red from makeup.

His lips rushed to meet yours in a tantalising kiss, a soft exploration that soon deepened into a passionate melding of mouths. The taste of him was intoxicating, and your tongues danced in a heated rhythm, exchanging breathless sighs and moans. Every kiss, every brush of his lips against yours, sent a rush of heat through your body. It was amazing.

His hands travelled from your face, down to your waist and they pulled you to meet his body. Jeno groaned into the kiss from all the friction caused by his chest rubbing against your sweater, making his nipples hard and sensitive.

While your arms wrap around his neck, Jeno’s hips dig into yours, creating a tent in his pants. It’s hard and uncomfortable but the pressure it’s putting on your cunt is to die for, so you grind… hard. Jeno moans your name while his hands tug at your jeans so aggressively you thought he would tear them if he continued. After blindly messing around with your pants, Jeno popped the button open and pulled down your jeans, exposing the lacy underwear you had on.

You whined as he pulled away from your lips but you shut up quicker than ever when you noticed how he was staring at your pussy. He looked hungry.

He looked like he was starving.

And starving, he was.

Jeno practically tore off your panties, tossing them somewhere behind him, before he dove into you. His tongue pressed flat against your pussy, licking a stripe up, the muscle’s warmth and making you moan softly. His nose poked at your clit as his tongue toyed with your hole. He lapped at your folds, making sure no spot was left untouched by his tongue. Jeno loved the way you tasted; you had the best pussy he’s ever eaten, he felt like he could spend all day eating you out, and he’d never get tired of it.

Jeno pulled away for a second to put his middle finger in his mouth, coating it in saliva before pressing it to your entrance. A hum escaped your lips as his thick digit slowly pulsed in and out of you as your hands worked to take off your sweater and shirt. Soon, one finger became two, and Jeno went back to eating you out. Your moans were driving him crazy; they were making it hard focus on your clit because his cock was so fucking hard. The hand he had pressed on your lower abdomen moved down to his button, undoing it and moving the zipper down far enough for him to get his dick out.

As he rubbed his cock, Jeno’s teeth grazed your clit before his lips latched on to it, sucking forcefully. With that, it didn’t take long for that feeling to start to form. As your moans quickened, the pace of Jeno’s fingers grew faster, and he sucked harder on your clit– if it were even possible. He loved the way you were tightening around his fingers, like you were trying to keep them inside you, wanting them absorb your juices.

“Fuck, Jeno…” you gasped, fingers tugging at his dark, messy hair. “God, I’m so close.”

Your eyes squeezed shut right as you were about to cum, but you never did. You felt so high, but now you dropped back down to zero, and you were empty and cold. Opening your eyes, you saw Jeno looking down at you with a smug expression. He leaned down and kissed you softly, which allowed you to taste yourself off his tongue, the somewhat sweet taste filling your mouth.

Reaching down, you felt for his cock, and began stroking when you found it. He was girthier than other guys you’ve had sex with, and he had a slight curve upwards, but my god was he long. You didn’t know if he would fit, but there was nothing you wouldn’t try.

Jeno moaned as he kissed you, the feeling of your warm hands rubbing him up and down forced him to thrust at the pace you were moving at. He pulled back from your lips to drop his head into the crook of your neck, marking and panting against the soft skin. Behind the shell of your ear, he wet a small spot with saliva before he kissed it softly, and he did the same to a few other spots. He sucked on your skin until it bruised while he moved down to the curve of your neck. Jeno’s hot tongue laid against your skin once again before he closed his teeth around it.

You jerked his cock harder as the boy continued to bite into different spots until his husky voice whispered a demand.

“Stop.” Jeno told you.

You did as you were told, but you kept your fingers trailing up and down his shaft as he kissed back up your neck, to your lips.

“Gimme two seconds.” he said against your lips with a smile. You kissed him quickly before he got up, which made him chuckle.

You watched as he got up, cock out and everything, which made you smile a bit. Jeno slid off his remaining clothes and tossed them in what presumed to be a laundry bin, and opened a drawer of his dresser, only to pull out something wrapped in a gold foil.

Oh…

Not one;

Not two;

Or three;

But six.

Jeno pulled out a strand of six condoms before he turned back to you. “Just in case.” he smiled innocently, even though he absolutely was not. He tore one from the line and ripped the top off with his teeth before he handed you the open package.

“Only six?” you asked in attempt to make a joke out of the pain you’re going to be in tomorrow.

Jeno chuckled as he shrugged while you took the condom and rolled it on to his cock. “We can use the whole pack if you want, it’s new.”

And that was that, seeing as Jeno grabbed your face and kissed you passionately. His tongue eagerly explored your mouth once again, grazing your own tongue and cheeks before he pulled away. A string of your mixed saliva hung like a teather from your mouth to his.

“Turn over for me, won’t you?” you nodded in a daze and turned so that your face was in the pillows. “Good girl,” he said, his cool hands grazing down your back, sliding all the way down to your ass. He spread your cheeks far enough apart to see everything, and you swore you heard evil laughter coming from somewhere.

What you thought was going to come, did not, in fact, come. Instead, you were surprised to feel a warm glob of spit fall on to your ass and how it trailed down to your pussy. Jeno leaned down and licked one long stripe, starting from your clit and ending at your ass. His tongue poked into your hole, once again, but this time he scisored in and out, the same way he used his fingers earlier. His tongue was warm and soft inside you, but that feeling didn’t last very long.

Jeno pulled his tongue out, subbing it out for his fingers, but instead, he used his tongue on your ass, sending shivers down your spine. He licked at the puckered hole, warming it up a bit as he fucked your pussy with his fingers.

“You doing okay?” he asked, but you were only able to moan out your response. His fingers fucked you faster, his thumb was ruining your clit with friction, your ass was slick with his spit. Everything was happening just as it needed to be for you to cum. “Oh fuck, Jeno, I’m gonna cum.” And this time you did. Jeno’s fingers curled inside you as they fucked you through your orgasm. Your body shook, your pussy was covered in spit and cum. Jeno’s fingers were coated in a mixture of his and your fluids, and he sucked it off like he was eating icing from a cake.

You felt hot and sticky; he hadn’t even fucked you with his cock yet and yet that was the best orgasm you’d ever fucking felt. “Jen… Jeno, I need you.”

The desparity in your voice sent Jeno spiraling and in no time, the fingers in your pussy were gone and his cock was poking at your enterance. He spit into his hand and coated his covered cock in it, even though he doubted he needed it, considering the fact that you were so wet you could drip on to his bed.

With a slow push, Jeno’s cock entered you, but refrained from moving after hearing you gasp. You knew he was going to be big, but you didn’t know he would be that big. He was a length you’d never taken before, so it took you a few minutes to adjust to his size, but soon enough you were able to build up to a medium pace.

Jeno’s hands snuck up your back to undo the clasp of your bra, exposing your breasts. Jeno firmly gripped your ass, with his thumb prodding at your assshole. You hummed with pleasure as the thick digit dipped into you slightly. With that, along with the pounding from his cock, you were basically in heaven.

“Faster,” you gasped, finally feeling only pleasure as he fucks into you.

Pulling you up by the shoulder, your bra slipped off in an instant, which let Jeno get a proper view of your tits, plump and beautiful. He watched how they jiggled with each thrust, and he grew more and more fond of them. Jeno even switched his grip on you from your shoulder to your neck. His hand gripped you around the base of your throat, just tight enough for there to be a handprint later. Meanwhile, the other snaked down to your pussy, where he drew fast circles on your clit. Jeno’s cock was deep inside your cunt, it filled you to the brim and you were loving every minute of it.

And so was he. The sound of skin slapping on skin, how your pussy fit his cock like a glove, how you moaned his name like you knew it well, how your back was practically glued to his chest. That made him go crazy; that made him fuck you even harder– a more vigurous pace that felt so good it brought you to tears.

Jeno got a hold of one of your nipples, it was hard and practically begging for it to be twisted. You moaned at the feeling and begged for more through your tears, so Jeno’s arms crossed over your stomach, his hands reaching up to play with your nipples some more. He pulled at them until they slipped from his grip, he squeezed them until you begged for mercy. When he shoved two fingers in your mouth, you gagged and yet you could still go further. Jeno pulled his fingers out and covered your tits in your spit.

It didn’t take long for his hips to pick up the pace once he that he was about to cum. Your moans grew choppier and choppier as his thrusts became more sharp.

“Shit, baby.” he groaned, his teeth biting down on your ear loab as he came. Your breaths were ragged in the moments of his orgasm, but you could feel his cock twitch inside you, even with the condom. Your body couldn’t keep up with the speed he was going at and soon enough you were shaking in his arms for a second time, cumming with him.

When Jeno pulled out, your head lolled backwards and you eyed him with a smile. Jeno kissed your temple and whispered his next words into your skin.

“On to the second condom, then?” You each laughed at his comment and Jeno wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tightly as he shook with laughter.

The boy helped you off of him before getting off the bed again to switch condoms. The exchange was quick and before you knew it, Jeno was hovering above of you once more, staring down at you like you were his prey. This predatory look formed a pit in your stomach, but the good kind.

Jeno’s eyes scanned you from head to toe.

Your body glistened with sweat, collarbones and throat covered with markings of all kinds, your nipples were puffy and wet, and your pussy was swollen and slick with juices. Everything looked delectable; you looked delectable and he was so tempted to consume it all.

The boy picked up one of your legs and propped it over his shoulder and placed his tip at your entrance. He bottomed out smoothly, and this time you seemed to be able to handle his length much better. Your head sunk into the pillows as you let out a sigh.

You watched how Jeno’s eyes closed when he felt your cunt wrap around him with his head falling back with pleasure. “Feels so good.” he groaned into the air, his jaw hanging open slightly as he continued to thrust. His head turned to the side and he brought your calf closer to his mouth, littering it with harsh bites and soft kisses.

Biting your lip, you reached your arm out, silently asking for him to come closer to you, to which he accepted. Setting your leg down, Jeno placed his arms on either side of your head, his face now just centimetres away from yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you wanted to keep the eye contact, so you mustered up the courage to look into his swirling orbs. In his eyes were a mix of emotions, ones that were unrecognisable to you, but you liked it. Tilting your head up slightly, you pecked his bottom lip lightly, which earned you a grin from Jeno. It grew wider when you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him in even closer to you. He hummed and kissed you back forcefully as he picked up the pace, his balls slapping against you sharply.

The tears that ran from your eyes down your cheeks seemed to motivate Jeno. Before, he could only hear your sobs, but seeing you cry switched something inside him. It made him want to fuck you harder, just to see you cry even harder. You looked so pretty, with your makeup all messy and tears running down your face. He loved it.

So he fucked you harder, and so you cried harder, you moaned louder, and you pawed at his back. His skin was under your nails, he could feel how they cut into him the harder he thrust. You were driving him fucking insane.

Jeno leaned his forehead on to yours as he moaned out sweet nothings. “I fucking love your pussy, fuck.” he cursed. His words made you tighten around his cock, which only made him groan louder, but it was like music to your ears. He felt like your pussy was sucking him in the way it would constrict when he fucked into you.

“Jeno, please,” you whimpered, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for. “Fuck, Jeno, you’re so fucking good.” you repeated your words as you whined out to him.

His words made your insides flutter, his movements made your heart race and your breaths quicker. Everything felt so good you could barely moan out words anymore.

He was fucking you dumb and silly. You were nothing but drawn out exclamations and tears. You were so sensitive, and yet you didn’t even want to tell him to stop.

It was just too good to stop.

So he kept fucking you, and he kept filling you, over, and over, and over again until you felt it. “Jen… Jeno, fuck, I’m cumming.” Suddenly, Jeno pulled out again, the same way he did earlier, but this time, he crawled between your legs again, fingering you until you came while jerking himself off. This one hit you so hard that your mind went completely blank and no words could even come out of your mouth. Jeno couldn’t even register what happened until he felt a wet substance leak on to his sheet.

He couldn’t fucking believe it.

His mouth latched on to your squirting cunt almsot immediately, drinking in your juices like it was water. Some liquid dripped down his neck as he lapped up the rest that leaked from your pussy, but he never let up. He continued to eat you out so well even after you came, you thought you were going to do it again.

As your hand raked through his dark hair, all it took was one tug at his roots for him to cum. Jeno rode his high by fucking himself into his mattress, and until he was done, he rest in between your thighs.

Slowly making his way up to you, you looked down, only to find that his dick was still hard. “You’re joking, right?”

“How about we finish that pack in a bit, hm?” he grinned, making you scoff.

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itisformythesis · 8 months ago

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Please take this survey for my thesis!

What is this thesis?

I am a sociology student preparing to write my thesis for my masters degree, looking at Goffman's dramaturgical theory and applying it to fanfiction writers and their relationship with sharing their writing.

How can I help?

If you write fanfiction (or have in the past), fill out this survey! It's entirely anonymous.

If you don't, please reblog this post, or share the link! I need as many responses as I can get!

If you'd like to additionally help, I am also looking for interviews (via zoom unless you reside in my state and want to meet up irl), or if that's not your thing, an extended version of this survey with more written out answers, to explain nuances.

If you're curious in this process and would like to read it/view results at the end, follow this blog! I made it just for my thesis posts. Additionally, all questions can be answered through my email listed there, and also the ask box of this blog.

**if you are under the age of 18, unfortunately you can not participate due to the level of IRB approval I received. Please share it though!

#housekeeping #polls #survey #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ff.net #fan fic writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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hayatoseyepatch · 7 months ago

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𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: It started off simple enough, a little wager that you'd be able to tell the twins apart no matter the situation. You were blindly confident in your abilities, however, you never imagined you'd have to be able to tell which brother was pleasuring which part of your body. 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗: Luke & Kieran (Love & Deepspace) 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1.7k 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘: Luke x Fem!Reader x Kieran. SMUT. 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: Sensory Deprivation, Teasing, Oral (Female Receiving), Threesome, Nipple Play, Marking, Free Use, Luke & Kieran being Luke & Kieran.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: When I tell you this idea has been living in my head for literal MONTHS. I've been so excited for this one. I love the twins so much and I feel like they deserve so much more love. I'll take Sylus, Luke, & Kieran please and thank you. Anyways I hope you enjoy, and I'll see you in the next one! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ᵕ`∩꒱ྀིა See my full kinktober master list here.

“Oh? So you think no matter the situation..” Kieran starts, amusement clear in his voice. “You’d be able to tell us apart?” His brother was quick to finish. You had been insistent that despite them being twins and constantly with their faces concealed behind the anonymity of their masks, that you could tell the brother’s apart. You nod confidently, crossing your arms across your chest, cocking your hip to the side. “Absolutely I could. You both sound completely different and have entirely different personalities.” You shrug, the brothers exchanging a glance at one another before Kieran lets out a laugh. Puffing out your cheeks in indignance you poke his chest.

“So confident in fact I’m willing to make a little wager. If I win you both have to take off your masks and let me see your faces.” The two brothers look at each other, taking a moment to have a silent conversation between them both. Kieran being the prouder of the two steps forward offering you a hand. “You got a deal, dove, we’ll discuss what we want from this little bargain after we win.”

You were caught in your tense bout with him, unaware that his brother had snuck behind you, if it wasn’t for his mask you were sure you’d feel his breath against your ear as he spoke. “We have to go on a little mission for boss, we’ll see you when we get back for our little bet, pretty.”

Luke’s hand trails from your shoulder to your hand, pressing it to the cold material of his mask in a pseudo kiss of your hand. Their behavior sat in your mind long after their departure. Sure the two had been flirty with you before, even suggestive in the way they spoke. But this was more forward than they had been. Day faded into night and you figured the two wouldn’t be returning to Sylus’ manor that evening. Deciding to just get ready for bed. Slipping off your bra and your silk nightgown over your head before getting ready to settle into bed. Before you could, however, the door to your room is opened. The two brothers leaning on either side of your doorway. “Hope we aren’t too late, little bird.” Kieran coos, the both of them entering your room and shutting the door.

So caught by him you don’t hear the distinct ‘click’ of Luke locking the door behind him. Kieran approached your bed, crawling onto the mattress, his knees settling on either side of your hips, masked face hovering above your own. “You ready for our little wager, dove?” He purrs, reaching into his back pocket to procure the silk blindfold that sat within its confines, dangling the fabric in front of your face. “Can't have you cheating now can we?” You can hear the grin in his voice, causing confusion to paint your features.

Luke, finally speaks up, standing at the foot of your bed. “Have some manners, tell her what we talked about before whipping out a blindfold, dumbass.” He walks along the side of the bed before sitting next to where you both were, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, he takes a hand, tilting your chin to make you look in his direction. Luke had been the gentler of the two, still just as mischievous as his brother, but there had always been an air of tenderness with the younger twin. “We’ve decided that the best way for you to be able to tell us apart is by taking way some of your senses, doll.” He grins beneath his mask, slipping the fabric from his brothers fingers as he secures it around your eyes, cutting off your sight completely.

“So what’s gonna happen here dove is we’re gonna take turns pleasuring that cute little body of yours.” He coos, you hear a bit of rustling, only for Luke’s voice to come out clearer than you’ve ever heard it. What you think may be his hand, trails up your bare thigh until it reaches the hem of your nightgown. A set of lips beginning to kiss a trail up from your shoulder on your other side. You gasp as the flat of the other twin’s tongue glides up your neck until his lips were pressed against the shell of your ear. “And just when you're about to cum we’re gonna ask you who it is pleasuring that cute little cunt.” His breath is hot in your ear, and the hand that was on your thigh slides up farther, emphasizing the words spoken by pressing on your clit through the fabric of your already damp panties. “If your right, you get to cum and take off that blindfold and see our faces.”

You shudder, hips rolling and a moan slipping from your lips as the fingers now rub tight circles on your covered clit. “And if I’m wrong?” You mentally curse yourself for stuttering, breaths coming in heavy at the attention given to your cunt. A deep chuckle is breathed into your ear before Kieran answers. “Then you keep the blindfold on and we do whatever the fuck we want to you until you guess right or pass out. How does that sound, our pretty little dove?”

His words go straight to your cunt, all you could muster was a nod of your head. The brothers were quick to action with your consent, the fingers pulling from your cunt to slip your panties down your thighs. Both of them remove themselves from the bed, you can hear movement, the two maneuvering themselves to make it a bit more difficult for you to sense where they had gone. After a moment, one brother settles himself behind you, your back now pressed to his chest as he manhandles you into a seated position. Large hands side under the backs of your knees, forcing your thighs apart, exposing your drenched cunt to the twin that slid himself between your legs. Once he was settled, the hands move from your legs to the straps of your nightgown, sliding them over your shoulders, exposing your tits to the cold air of the room.

Kieran struggles to keep quiet, not commenting on the way your nipples pebble, and how gorgeous your tits were. He silences himself by pressing open-mouthed kisses up your neck, not wanting to end the game so soon. His kisses were a mess of tongue and teeth, trailing upward until his lips finally met your own. Unsatisfied with your lips not parting to welcome his tongue, his thumbs flick your sensitive nipples. Using the gasp you let out to his advantage as he slides his tongue past your lips. His fingers make busy work at teasing your buds, rolling them between his thumb and index finger. All while his brother uses his thumbs to part your folds, tongue lolling out of his mouth to lick a fat stripe up your dripping pussy. Groaning deep in his throat at finally being able to taste you after months of yearning to be in this exact position. Your moans are swallowed by the older twin, his tongue never ceasing its assault on your own.

Luke, attempting to mimic actions you would expect from his brother, pulls away from your core, landing a harsh slap against your cunt. He followed with two more in quick succession, grinning at the cries that fall from your lips before diving back into your cunt. Luke returns to returning lapping your center, his tongue alternating between licking fat stripes against your clit to pointed circles tracing shapes against the bundle of nerves. This next action would be the determination of how clouded your mind was. His long fingers, much more slender than his brother's trace your opening. he plunges two digits in your walls, massaging the spongey spot in your depths, the one that made your vision go white, before avoiding it completely, teasing you to the point of tears at the loss of contact as he continues his assault with his tongue. He suddenly pulls away from your sex, sliding his fingers out of you. Before you can fully let the whine at the loss of contact escape, he buries his face back into your folds.

His nose bumps your clit as his tongue invades your entrance, curling inside you. He collects your juices on the wet muscle, withdrawing from inside you he pushes himself up. Tongue lolling out of his mouth, allowing your juices, mixed with his own saliva, to drip down on your neglected clit. He grins at your reaction to his teasing, your hips were already bucking, thighs trembling the brothers could tell you were getting close. Kieran, who never let up his assault on your sensitive nipples, tugs them harshly, relishing in the way you cry out for him. Once they were sure you were drunk enough on the feeling of their combined assault they both spoke at the same time, hoping your mind was hazy enough to not be able to pinpoint their voices. “So, dove, who was eating your cunt?”

Your mind was swimming, so lost in the pleasure of your near release. Their words meet your ears, muffled against the whine that bubbles up in your throat at the loss of contact. While trembling in their arms you whimper out your answer. “Kieran” The name coming out in a pathetic whimper, as you your following words. “Kieran was eating my cunt.” The owner of the name groans at the fucked out way it falls from your lips, and your heart sinks to your stomach as you realize it was right by your ear. He grins against the shell of it his breaths fanning against your skin as he speaks. “uh oh baby, that’s the wrong answer” He purrs, Luke chiming in from between your thighs, you didn’t know when he had risen to his knees, nor when he freed his cock from the confines of his pants. All you knew was that his mushroom tip was now probing your entrance, hand on your hip in anticipation of sinking you down not him. “Guess it's time for us to claim our prize dove.” His words promised this night was long from over, and that by the end of it you’ll never get them confused again.

𝕯𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖇𝖞 @/𝖈𝖆𝖋𝖊𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖊 & @/𝖘𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖐𝖆-𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖘.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @littleplantfreak @maruflix @stunies @eevees-hobbies @umemiaa @143-ilyuu @uzxotic @serendipitous-fernweh @princesstiti14 (𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙/𝖉𝖒/𝖆𝖘𝖐 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖘) (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

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