#c'mere 😘

[link-sans-specs]

How it started...

How it's going.

Aww, sweetie. There there. 😘

GME3

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

1500 OF YOU SICKOS FOLLOW ME???????

[xo-cod]

favorite positions/foreplay/aftercare/safe words for simon pls🫠💖 u dont have to do all of them tho ( or any of them:) )… hope ure doin better love♥️😘

going thru all my requests and :")) i hope you like this babe <33 this is rlly rushed but i loved it sm, if you want a more in depth version lmk 🫂

this is for soft simon 🩷 (might be ooc ‼️)

favourite positions: i'd like to think he would indulge in mating press, missionary, g whiz, reverse scoop. these are the ones where you're focused on him, he needs to see your face that you're enjoying it as much as he is. it's also such a huge turn on when he can see and hear your pretty sounds falling from your lips everytime he thrusts into you. especially when he's back from deployment, he doesn't have the energy or time to be all in those intricate positions. he just wants you as close as possible and touching you as much as he can. caging you between his wonderfully built arms, his hips slowly thrusting in you with his lips attached to your neck, "feel you squeezin me so tight baby, feels so fuckin good"

foreplay: very very big on foreplay. if you're not feeling anything, immediately stops with no questions. caressing your skin, massaging your body, his deep rich voice whispering all the dirty things he'd do to you. he loves how your skin feels underneath his hands and will spend a lot of time just simply stroking you when he can, "c'mere beautiful, let me touch you"

aftercare: literally holds you as though you'll break, small kisses peppering your face while he helps clean you up. sometimes he'll hold you in his arms and take you in the bathroom for a warm bath where you both can clean up properly. he's very touchy with you, handling you as though you'll shatter beneath his calloused hands. will cuddle you close, his lips pressing tender kisses to your temples while he strokes your back gently, "y'did so good f'me, sweetheart. so so good"

safe words: this one is either a special word you've both agreed on before if it's more intense or the whole colour thing. he'll ask you periodically throughout, just in case you're not so overwhelmed. he takes your safe words very seriously so even when you playfully say no, he'll take that as a stern no and stops immediately. "how y'feeling f'me, lovie? still green, yeah?"

[johnwickb1tsch]

Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick Imagine Part 5 by:

@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch and now featuring @tammykelly

Original Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘

Lovely Readers! You can now follow the tag # Wicked Johnson Fic to follow along more easily! ❤❤❤

Johnwickb1tsch:

John lets you rest after wrecking you for the umpteenth time, disappearing off somewhere. You put off leaving the bedroom for as long as you can, but in the end you can't stand it anymore. You rummage in the closet for a new shirt. Your choices are black, black, and you'll never guess... black. 

This house must belong to John.

How many safe houses does that man have?

When you walk out of the bedroom in your new getup you find Tex in the living room watching TV. He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“We have got to get you some clothes, baby girl.”

You shrug. The boxer t-shirt combo is actually pretty comfy.

You think you might make your way to the kitchen, but Tex snaps his fingers at you as you try to walk past.

You turn to look at him with a raised brow. 

“Can I help you?”

That was the wrong thing to say, obviously. 

His grin is that of a hungry wolf. 

“I bet you can. C'mere, darlin'.”

You sigh, but after your little lesson with John, you're not quite so inclined to defy him. 

Yet.

You're going to have to get smarter about how you expend your energy. 

Easier said than done. 

You pad over next to him. He pats his thigh in invitation, but you opt to sit next to him instead. This lasts for about two seconds, before he hauls you into his lap with his big hands and his strong arms.

Goddammit.

“That's better,” he says with a sly grin, holding you close. 

You take a moment to look at him—really look at him, from up close. The sweep of his almond shaped eyes, his high cheek bones and the short scruff of his beard. He stares back at you, unabashedly. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He narrows his eyes at you, bumping his forehead with yours. You wish it wasn't adorable. Fucking man child, making you feel things.

“Wanna watch tv?”

It beat anything else he could dream up, so you agree. You hadn't forgot that he still owed you for your flipping of the bird earlier. You're sure he hasn't either. 

He turns on some stupid gratuitous action flick, and you kind of zone out. Your thoughts drift to John, and the things he told you in-between fucking you silly. 

He'd said that he and Tex would not take on the FBI just for a plaything, or a whore. Deep down, you knew what that meant. 

It meant, they had no real intention of letting you go. The thought filled you with equal parts dread—and wonder. 

Why the fuck would not one, but two fine ass men like this want you, for keeps? It's beyond your comprehension—and if you're honest, kind of flattering. Bat shit fucking crazy, but flattering.

Either that, or it's just...convenient. Your circumstances created a perfect storm from which to snatch you without a trace or a person to care about getting you back.

"Want to see somethin'?" asks Tex, interrupting your reverie.

"Okay?"

He clicks play on the remote once he has your attention. You watch as a 1970s muscle car jumps an impossible ramp, then lands roughly on the other side of a canal. "That was me."

You lift an eyebrow, looking back at him. "In the car?"

"Yeah."

He's grinning like a little kid, clearly proud. 

"You were a stunt man?"

"Uh huh."

You tilt your head, trying to put pieces together and failing. The square block is not fitting in the circle hole. 

"Then why...?"

"Killin' people pays better, believe me. Less dangerous, too."

A chill runs down your spine. 

"Oh."

Your gaze drifts away, but he turns it back to him with a hand on your chin. Those jet black eyes bore into yours, like he can see into your soul. His eyes flick down to your mouth, a moment before he leans in to kiss you. Your first instinct is to offer teeth, before you remember if you have to have sex one more time in the next twenty-four hours, you might literally die. You slip your tongue into the seam of his lips, and feel him smile against your mouth. 

"Mmm. A man could get used to this."

He slides his hand up your thigh, fingertips sneaking past the loose hem of your boxer shorts. 

You wrap your fingers around his, praying. "Tex, please."

"Like the sound of that," he says between kisses, outmuscling you to move his hand higher.

"I'm so sore."

"Sounds like an excuse to me. John gets you to himself but I don't?"

"It's not my fault you're both hung like horses."

This appeal to his ego makes him grin. "Ain't you a lucky girl?"

"Only if you don't hurt me."

He has the gall to give you a pouty face. Again, it should be fucking ridiculous, but somehow it's cute. He cups the side of your face, pushing his thumb between your lips. "How sore is your mouth?" he asks, eyes glittering.

It's not high on your list of things you want to do, but you're having to weigh your options these days. You suck his thumb, and you swear you watch a fire ignite in his eyes.

"Also sore," you say around his digit, sounding ridiculous as he presses down on your tongue. Your jaws hurt. Even your mouth is bruised from kissing. Jesus. You're not a goddamn python.

You try to retreat, but he forces his thumb deeper.

Absolutely out of instinct to defend yourself, you start to bite him.

Maybe you stop yourself before it can hurt or you break skin, but for the wicked gleam in his eyes you know it doesn’t matter. Suddenly you find yourself flipped on your stomach over his lap, as though you are nothing but a doll.

“You are a nippy little thing, you know that?” When he wrenches down your boxers, propping your ass in the air with his trunk of a thigh beneath you, you’re afraid you know exactly what he has in mind.

“No—”

His hand between your shoulder blades pins you down. “You’re just going to make it worse for yourself,” he says in a sing-song tone, almost as though he hopes you will fight him more. His fingers fanned out over your butt cheek rub lightly, soothing over your copious bruises. It feels so good that the first stinging smack makes you jump sky-high.

“Hey!”

“Hush and take your licks, little girl.”

“I hate you!”

“I was gonna say five, for flippin’ me off, but now it’s six. Comprende?”

You whimper, but for the first time since this whole fiasco started, you do the smart thing and shut your dumb fucking mouth, hanging your head in the pillows with resignation.

He’s just spanking you, you reason. How bad can it be?

He has a hand like a catcher’s mitt and arms corded with muscle.

Bad. The answer, is bad.

Yet he doesn’t lay into you immediately, soothing you with featherlight touches over your buttocks and the backs of your thighs. That part feels good, actually, and fuck you if you don’t start to feel the stirrings of desire between your legs.

What. The ever loving. FUCK. Is wrong with you?

“So pretty,” he says, toying with the bend of your knee. It makes your toes curl, and he offers up a deep chuckle that you almost feel more than hear. “You like that?”

“Yes,” you answer meekly, closing your eyes.

“See, I can be sweet, if you’re sweet to me.”

The next smack on the other cheek makes you jump again, but this time you do not protest.

“Ahh. She can be taught.”

You whimper, but keep your expletives to yourself. This is not exactly what you would call sweet…but the contrast of the stinging blows with his featherlight touch afterwards is doing things to you that you do not understand.

“Take this off,” he demands, lifting the hem of your shirt up your back.

For once, you obey him the first time, squirming in your awkward position on your belly and pulling it over your shoulders, leaving you bare and totally exposed upon his lap. He runs his fingers up the curve of your spine, making you shudder upon him. You can’t see his smug grin, but you know, you just fucking know it’s there.

Smack.

You can’t help but cry out, but the pleasure and the pain is strangely starting to meld together. Your treacherous, stupid little cunt has begun to throb, and as his fingers caress dangerously close to your crease you find that you wish he would touch you there.

By the time he’s finished with your licks you are a finely trembling, aching mess on his lap, your fingers like claws in the throw pillow, your ass in the air as though begging for it of its own volition.

Finally he does dip his thick fingers into your weeping slit, groaning to himself for the wetness he finds there. He circles your bud with the thick tip of his finger, making you moan and arch into him like the stupid little hypocrite you are.

“That’s a mighty nice little pussy you’ve got there,” he says, his voice turned pure gravel with desire. “Too bad you’re too sore.”

He withdraws and shoves you off his lap as he stands, leaving you in a heap of pliable naked limbs on the couch. The frustrated sound that escapes your throat is barely human, and the grin he pays you is the baring of teeth from a predator to a rabbit across the wood.

“Now don’t let me catch you touchin’ yourself,” he warns, looming over you. “You won’t like what happens next.”

 On that note he struts off, and you watch him go with a glare, unable to stop yourself from thinking he has the nicest, tightest little butt this side of the Mississippi river.

Bastard.

Sweetwolfcupcake:

You sit there for a good few minutes--- letting yourself just feel and realise what has happened.

No, because you realise it now-- so much has happened, you have sort of developed a temporary immunity to it all. A coping mechanism for your mind.

That is what it does when things go very wrong very quickly-- bolt out of the blue? Worry not, you won't even register it properly.

That is how your works, you realise as you slowly begin to dress yourself again. The slick between your thighs is hard to ignore but the ignited desire begins to subdue as you focus on making yourself aware-- really aware of what has happened.

John's words regarding Bradford felt like a promise and as you realise that he is gone, you fear he has gone after the agent.

You hope and pray that he is not as impulsive as you consider him to be because, with your time spent with Bradford, you have come to know of two things-- one, he is very resourceful, and second, he is no fool. He is an exceptionally intelligent, stubborn man-- whom you considered to be moral, almost idealistic. So, his betrayal has come as a shock to you.

You can't swallow it, somehow-- and his actions are not helping either. If John has bribed him and he accpeted-- why is he still messing with them, then?

What does he really want?

He has a family--

You blink.

Teenagers, he said. He isn't that old. Until...

Until he was a college dad or something. He never even mentioned a wife.

You lick your lips dress yourself as quickly as you can and rush out of the room. Finding Tex in the kitchen, you almost call for him.

Almost because you stop.

Baffled at your own instincts.

What are you doing? Don't you miss your previous life? Don't you want to be free again?

You realise you still do but you can't see them hurt. You don't want them hurt, in any way, under any circumstances.

They make you feel like a battlefield-- a battlefield for your mind, heart and body. You just stare on, lost in thoughts and questions. But Tex senses your presence.

"Sit down, accidentally added an extra egg to my omelette." He says while plating an omelette and bringing it to you-- it does not look like an accidental extra, but you chose not to comment. "Why aren't you sat?" He asks with a tilt of his head, but amusement is dancing in his orbs.

And he's back at his assholery again, just when you begin to think of him as 'not too bad'.

You sigh, too many thoughts running around to even try wiping off that annoying smirk out of his unfairly gorgeous face. You simply steel yourself and sit down-- refusing to give him the satisfaction of any reaction from you. You grind your teeth in silence, tensing up at the ache when you feel the cushioned surface against your clothed rear-- at least it isn't only wood-- that would have been way more painful. But it still hurts. Yet, you don't show it.

You've had enough of their games. Whatever they are doing, you realise that they are, perhaps winning at it. You were going to warn Tex about Bradford? You don't want John to go after Bradford-- and the first reason you think of is 'What if it's a trap'? And not 'What if Bradford dies?'

This change concerns you. You still haven't decided what you wish to do. Tell them that Bradford's actually too young to have teenagers? Are they foolish enough to not cross-check? You decide on a different approach.

"Where did John go?"

The question comes off in low, uncertain whisper, but Tex is already seated beside you with his own plate.

When did he even do that?

Tex raises an eyebrow and scoffs but holds your gaze for a moment.

"You're not worried about that agent, are ya?"

His ability to guess your thoughts (partially, to your fortune) catches you off guard and of course, it shows on your dumb face as he smirks. This time though, it does not seem as playful as before. This time, it puts you on edge as you let out a measured breath, feeling more alert than you have been in John's silent presence before.

"No--I...." You almost spill out the truth, before breaking the eye-contact and getting some hold on yourself "I was just...wondering."

"Don't worry, he went to get you somethin' to wear, so that you don't keep dirtying ours."

Your hold on the spoon tightens at that jab. It's lighter than most of his earlier ones but it somehow irks you to a certain point of burn.

You assume he is clever enough to not give you a fork because, at the moment, you want to poke him with one.

"I'm done."

You declare curtly before letting your spoon fall on the plate and pushing it away. You need some time away from their overpowering presence, you need your sanity, your rationality intact, after all.

Rising from your seat, you rush towards the bedroom with the hope of some solitude. You need that.

Tammykelly:

You barely get to the bedroom on the second floor, the forever lingering ache between your legs and anger in your heart not letting you think about anything else but a much needed distraction.

This bastard is fucking diabolical, you think to yourself, hoping the negative energy of your denial will give strength to your knees and outweigh how much your body is screaming at you to take care of the little, annoyingly loud problem created by Tex. God, they’ve trained you well.

After you’ve freshened up in the master bathroom, you sit down in a big armchair, next to the bed, still feeling frustrated, though mostly at yourself and the hopelessness of your situation.

You glance around the room once again, remembering where they’ve locked their tools, including knives that you’re pretty sure are sharp enough to cut through anything with ease. You lean back, lost in thoughts, letting your back rest against the soft cushion. You close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing pattern, after a while feeling like your body reflexes have started to calm down and the blood in your veins has acquired breath of its own, as you begin to watch yourself, as if from the third person pov.

The shrunken space of your focus seems to have been expanded, simultaneously, the room seems to have been sealed in a vacuum bubble, it’s just you and the memory of where the knives lay. You get up with determination, feeling confident enough to try anything within the boundaries of what’s allowed but timid enough to be mindful about possible consequences.

You can surely just look at them, they won’t punish you if you don’t use them.

You think about an array of ways how you’d break the lock before opening the cabinet, and run your fingers over the blades that you know could easily cut you in half through the application of force necessary to do so. You take one out, studying it, as if trying it on, wondering how much this razor-sharp knife has seen and will witness. You twirl it around, pondering whether you’d be brave enough to use it if the opportunity arises. You feel almost mesmerised by it, neither hearing anything, apart from the ringing in your ears, nor seeing anything, apart from your reflection on the blade.

“You’re sure you know how to handle it?” - a deep breathy voice comes from behind. You jump, almost dropping the knife, your eyes meet John’s obsidian ones, boring into you, making you feel like you’re being poked by the needles that lay in the cabinet next to the knives.

“Be careful not to cut yourself, rattlesnake”, - an amused voice adds and you watch Tex step into the room, as your cheeks flush red. “We were wondering how come it’s so quiet up here”, - he adds, not breaking the eye contact.

“I was napping” - you blurt out, quickly putting the knife down, nervously watching John walk closer in a lazy, almost calculating manner only a predator uses when the prey has been caught in a trap.

You catch his movements until he’s standing behind you, his chest touching your back, his arms on either side of you, capturing you in a cage that is his strong body against your frozen one. You look over to Tex and notice him leaned against the wall, watching you two with curiosity.

Fuck

John picks up the knife you’ve previously chosen and holds it in front of you, his lips close to your ear, his voice so dangerously low, you swear he sounds like he’s about to devour you in one bite.

“Want me to show you how to use it?” he nonchalantly whispers, sending cold shivers down your spine, his lips inch closer, “since you’re so curious about it”. You pray he doesn’t feel the deafening thumping of your heart.

“I was…just…uh…”, - words barely escape your dry throat. You hear Tex walk over and it makes you feel even more on the razor edge that is a mouse trap of your relationship with these men. You feel Tex’s fingers under your chin, when he pulls your face to look up at him.

“Isn’t it what you wanted?” - he clicks his tongue. His glimmering eyes shine with built-up darkness lay beneath, a hint of disappointment flashes through it when you don’t reply, “all talk, no action?”

Tex is akin to a fiery pit, predictably unpredictable in the sense that you have an idea of what to expect of him - stand too close and you get burned, bite too hard and you get splashed back with fire. But when you watch the flames, especially when he doesn’t notice you studying him or pretends not to, there’s a strangely comforting warmth to him, flickering through the coal cracks of his man-child nature. John, on the other hand, is akin to an abyss, swallowing you whole with his presence. He’s dangerous in a way that a calm untamed tiger is, for even domesticated, it still remains a threat at all times. You don’t see what’s beneath all the layers of what he masterfully conceals and you’re not sure you should want to find out how much of a predator he actually is.

“Make your choice” - you hear John’s raspy voice bring your attention back to him.

“What?” - you blink, your mind going over multitude of possibilities this could play out. Tex takes the knife out of the other man’s hands.

“Who do you prefer show you how to use it?” - he explains, but his expression says anything but teaching you about self-defence. You feel John protectively wrap around you and you don’t need him to say it. If Tex does anything out of line, this playground will become everything a human would fear to step into. You can see that the feeling’s mutual, in the way Tex glares at John.

Maybe this is the code to freedom, let them prey on each other.

Tex’s eyes move to yours, seeing the way you lean into the man behind you.

“Oh, you think Johnny boy will save you?”- he chuckles darkly, “dream on”, he tells you before motioning for John to bring you over to the bed. Your heart drops.

They sit you down on the bed, both of them circling you, akin to eager hawks, ready to rip apart and devour anything in their sight. Suddenly, you feel John’s hands lock yours in a tight grip behind your back, which makes panic arise in your chest.

“The fuck you’re doing?” - you want to sound mad but the voice that comes out of your mouth sounds like it belongs to someone else caught in a web of pretence and lies. Tex waves his hand for you to keep your mouth shut.

“You forget your place, rattlesnake”, - he laughs, though not an ounce of warmth strikes you, just sharp fire burns.

“You’re a fucking asshole”, - you growl lowly, looking him right in the crazed eyes, while John shifts to a more comfortable position to hold you still.

Bastard

“Touché”, - Tex brings his face close to yours, his hot breath on your skin making you flinch, “Biting won’t help, darlin’, you’re forgetting who you’re up against”, he finishes, placing the cold blade on your cheek before you start protesting, and moving it down your jawline, throat, collarbones and stopping at the hem of your shirt, tantalised, watching the way your chest rapidly rises and falls. He’s so gentle with it, though, but his eyes tell you he could switch up in a heartbeat.

“Sorry, John”, - Tex breaths out and doesn’t wait for either of you to reply, grabbing the fabric and making the blade slide through it with lightning speed like butter. Your wide open eyes look at him with shock, only now noticing John pressed up against your back, like an unmoving statue. You lean back, wiggling your body, seeing how hard it is for Tex to resist touching you with his hands. He extends his arm to place the knife onto your skin.

“Don’t fucking touch me”, - you glare up at him, which makes a loud bark of a chuckle escape his lips, though he doesn’t stop. You begin to shake your head and move your body, knowing he won’t do anything in this case, as not to hurt a single strand of hair on you, for John might kill him right then and there with that said knife, otherwise. Abruptly, your body freezes when Tex’s calloused hand find its place around your neck, urging you to hold your anger in and to look up at him.

“You don’t want me to hurt you, do you?” - he growls, his fingers tight around your throat, “you can’t keep playing the game you can’t win”, he smiles, placing the blade in the centre of your breastbone, the coldness of steel arising goosebumps throughout your body. Your eyes lock on his, studying the way he’s holding back the desires that will leave him hanging onto the thread of life had he acted upon them. You want to believe he’d never hurt you but you never know how far his self control and possible feelings for you can contain the boundaries of his flames.

Is it your or John’s power over him?

Tex’s knee moves in between your legs, inching closer to where you needed him when he bent you over downstairs what feels like an eternity ago. But your body responds in raging flames, lit up by the myriad of matches that are the manifestation of his power over you.

His fingers inch the razor-sharp steel closer to the centre of your neck, so infinitely slow you think you might die just from waiting for what comes next.

And what comes next is John’s lips on your skin, your temple, behind your ear, on your shoulder, his tongue tasting the heat, engulfing your body, the effect of which comes off in a form of a shuddered breath that doesn’t go unnoticed. Tex moves the blade up until it reaches your mouth, keeping it there, until you get the hint. You stare at his darkened, ravenously glowing eyes. You feel one of John’s hands come up gliding over your body up to your neck, tilting your head up, as he’s shifting his weight so you can look up into his eyes. The look you’re met with is not the one you were hoping to see, for instead of a soft and gentle one, your gaze gets sucked in by a black hole that is a pair of nearly jet-black, hungry, unmoving and barely patient eyes.

“Sorry, baby”, - John rasps.

You open your mouth, falling deeper into his void, before closing your eyes.

Your eyelids flutter open, as your breath and racy heartbeat warn you to steady yourself before gradually coming back to a stable pace, as you lay in bed.

You listen in to the sounds of an awfully quiet house, making you wonder whether you’ve been left alone after all. The clock arms ticking rhythmically, blending in with the soft, almost faint whirring of the bedroom mini fridge where the boys keep cooled bottled water for you. The sound of electricity inside the walls and static in your ears suddenly becoming louder once you focus on it instead of the faint noise of the outside world. You look around, chasing the frisky sunset light, playing on the space around you through the cracks between the slightly moving curtains. You glance at expensive looking boutique shop bags standing near the wall. For the first time you pay attention to the way the colour palette of the place is almost seamlessly blended by the dreamy fog, though you’re not sure if it’s the floating in sunlight specks of dust or your own blurry vision, for you’d just woken up from your nap. You raise your hand to cover your eyes when the sunlight makes its way onto your face, then close your eyelids, folding your hands on your lap, letting yourself bask in the vague warmth. You take a deep breath in, your senses catching a very indistinct smell of the fresh evening air, when the wind outside blows through the trees, the rustling of which you can catch a sonic glimpse of, fresh laundry and the scent of your shampoo.

But the smell of two men pervades you the most, you can practically taste the last night with John and today’s morning with Tex on your tongue and skin. You’re sure you smell like them by now, akin to a cat acquiring the smell of its owners over time, becoming one with the small nuclear tribe. It’s shamefully intoxicating how well they’ve imbedded themselves onto your body and into your mind, molding a new, unrecognizable version of you, so perfectly suited for their needs.

And you’re sure they like everything about it, especially the way they can smell themselves off you, like you belong to them, cooped up in this place away from prying eyes, their $5 million secret, just for them to play with and ravish. You can feel it sometimes through the way they touch you when passionate waves are mercifully on hold, replaced by the monumental promise of another outburst. You remember the way their fingers linger on your skin a bit too long, the way they hug you close to their bodies late at night when they think you’re too fucked out to notice - John - in a protective embrace, Tex - more on the possessive side.

The way John gently brushes your hair after blow drying it and resists leaning in to smell your freshly showered self, for every time you can feel the heat of his body getting close to you and, regrettably to your disappointment, pulling away at the last moment. The way Tex traces his own bites and hickeys on your skin when you’re in the bathtub with him or glides his fingertips over them under the covers, thinking your blissfully unaware self doesn’t feel his surprisingly delicate leisure wandering. The way neither of them want to leave the bed in the early hours of the morning, too entranced by your warmth and the feel of your body against theirs. The way one day you made each of them sigh in surprise when you’d pulled them closer, praying they explain it as your sleepy subconscious making the decisions for you, when, in reality, it was you pulling the strings of blurry lines in between sanity and conscience mistake of trying to savour their comfortingly strong bodies. You couldn’t decide which one of the duo was worse. John, who treats you like a gentleman but often fucks you disrespectfully, or Tex, who annoyingly makes every particle of your body and soul boil in every sense possible.

You tip your head back, eyelids closed, taking deep breaths in to calm your heart and mind. You have no idea how long it’ll take for the masks of sanity to slip, revealing the true nature of those men. Whatever sanity means anymore in this situation. You start feeling like their influence on you begins to seep beyond physical form.

Suddenly, you hear John quietly calling out to you: “Y/n. You here?”

Your eyebrows slightly twitch, as your eyes open to the starry sky above the balcony where you and John are standing next to one another.

“It’s like you were just here and then you were gone”, - he chuckles, his voice soft and comfortingly deep.

Fuck, the mask’s slipping.

You take a long look at him before smiling, his eyes so gentle, you almost [want to] believe he’s not faking it for you.

It’s time for a cat to come out and play with fire.

“Hi”, - you tell him, reaching your fingers out to him, finding it so irresistibly hard not to put a loose strand of hair behind his ear when you see him admiring the perfect way the clothes he’d bought hug your body, as if tailored to your exact measurements but you don’t delve into it deeply for the sake of your sanity. “Hey”, - John replies, letting your hand slip back, not showing you how much he wants to catch it and kiss it.

The serenity of the passing intimate lace comes crumbling down when Tex cheerfully comes up from the back and hugs you from behind, loudly leaving a wet trail of kisses from your ear down to your shoulder, so casually mundane, as if he’s been doing this for years.

“What are you two whispering about?” - he inquires, not removing his lips off you. “Certainly not you”, - you tease. “You don’t like me?” - he mumbles back. Now it’s your turn to laugh: “Why should I? This is just a transaction, no?”

Instead of pulling away, Tex grips you harder: “Aw, my rattlesnake, I was about to say how sweet you are when you don’t bite”.

“Thought you liked it?” - you let him feel you lean into him, which he eagerly reciprocates. “Oh, is that why you do it? You do it for me?” - he asks, as you turn around in his arms, tilting your face up, batting your eyelashes. “Dream on”, - you reply before breaking away from his embrace.

You walk over to the balcony sofa, sinking into the big pillows in a relaxed way that exudes you’re not afraid of either of the two. You let yourself be watched by their intense gazes, shamelessly scanning you up and down, as you throw one leg over the other. Moments pass before you speak again.

“I can’t quite crack the code”, - you tell them in the most couldn’t-care-less tone, “what is it that you get out of this? Apart from the obvious”. You trace your body with your fingers, John’s eyes on yours and Tex’s following your silhouette.

Tex is the first to reply: “You said it yourself, this is just a transaction”.

“Is it really?” - you inquire in a way that it sounds more like a statement.

“Why do you wanna know?” - Tex responds, keeping his eyes trailed on you.

You lean further into the cushions, trying to sound as innocuously as possible. “To manipulate you, of course”.

Silence hangs in the air, making your cheeks grow redder, though you hope they can’t tell under the starlight. Tex walks closer to you, saying: “Don’t get ideas into that pretty head of yours”, he grabs your face with one hand, “wouldn’t want you to get burned, mhhmm?”

You swallow. “Wouldn’t even dream of it”, - you tell him, holding the eye contact. Unexpectedly, Tex does nothing but lets you go and walks to the chair, near John. It makes you uncomfortable, their watchful eyes not leaving an ounce of your conscience not feeling exposed.

“What game are you playing at?” - John finally speaks up, his voice so quiet you know he’s not playing games with you anymore.

“Nothing”, - you simply say, your gaze locked on his. Hiding in plane sight, you think. Instead, you continue: “I can’t outplay the player when I got no game, yeah?”

Tex snorts: “Oh, you definitely do have game”, eyeing you. You turn your attention to him, scoffing just like he did: “Clearly, if that’s what you wanna call it”.

“I just want a lock in my room”, you add.

“My, my, Johnny boy, she not only bites but wants to have leverage over us”, - Tex chuckles.

“How’s having a lock mean leverage?” you bat your lashes.

Okay, playing dumb it is.

Tex doesn’t make you wait for his reply: “It’s not about the lock. It’s about access”.

Got you, you say to yourself.

“I’m sure other hunters, like you two, would just love that, access at all times”, - you muse, looking from one man to the other.

“We won’t let that happen”, - John’s stern whisper comes.

“Mhmhm, sure, with $5 million on the line”, - you shrug. You catch Tex’s eyes.

“Dream on, babygirl”, - he muses back.

You sigh, getting up, making your hips sway just a tiny bit more than usual. Your arm gets caught in Tex’s strong grip. “What are you doing?” - he growls, as you turn to look up at him. You look behind him at John, then back at the man in front of you. “Take a wild fucking guess”, - you retort. Tex steps closer, cornering you further to the glass door, leading into the house. “Use your pretty mouth like that, I won’t care if you’re sore or not anymore”, - he smiles sickly sweet, making your stomach turn. You ignore him and connect your eyes with John’s, who holds the same expression, not much different from Tex’s, letting you see in that moment, how titillated he is by you.

You’re fucked and you’ve walked right into it.

“Let me guess, “dream on”?” Tex mocks you, placing a hand on the glass, near your face.

You work up a smile, though you hope they can’t see it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m going to sleep. Aren’t you boys coming?” you purr, before wiggling your way out of Tex’s arms. The men look at each other before following suit, exchanging malevolent glances.

The code is crackable. For it’s not the “how” but the question of who’ll be the first to crack.

Tex. John. Or you.

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

Goddamnit. Where is the motherfucking pancake batter? Does John not have PANCAKE BATTER in his goddamn house? What are you supposed to do? Make pancakes from scratch? Fuck.

Your internal thoughts are being monologued by a sailor, apparently - and he’s in a shit mood. You woke up lying in vacant sheets, minus either of your human heaters, shivering in the conditioned air.

Your bargain was simple, or at least you thought so - they could keep the temp at 62 degrees in this room (psychos) if they both slept beside you and warmed you cozy. So, when you found out they were gone and didn’t even bother to pull a blanket over your naked body in their haste to leave - okay, maybe it was actually you that kicked the comforter off, but you’re still gonna blame them - you got heated, and not in a good way.

Pretty soon, and far too late, you realized that you felt abandoned without them snuggling you like two big, bed hogging dogs, and that made you much more angry because… Well. If you’re being honest with yourself, you are far too attached to these men. In too deep. “Dug up more snakes than you can kill,” as Tex would say. You can barely function when they’re not around. So much for strong, independent woman. You’re a whitehead on the face of feminism.

And now you can’t even make pancakes. Out of frustration, you slam a cupboard shut and bustle a carton of eggs off the counter. And, of course, they land face down with the top open wide. “Fuck. Me.”

“Bad day?”

You spin on your heel, hip catching the counter painfully, although you barely register the sting, too busy clenching fists at your sides from the immediate recognition of that voice. You glare at Bradford, lip curling into a little snarl, the rattlesnake in you coming to bat. “It is now,” you snap.

Bradford sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, don’t be like that. I told you I’d protect you, y/n, and that’s what I’m here to do.”

You burst into a crazed giggle fit, fists clutching at the sundress fabric over your belly, eyes watering from the sheer audacity of fucking men. It takes you a minute to collect yourself.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you pompous asshole.” You’re still smiling at him, that little leftover sanity and hope slipping right through your fingers and landing in a sticky puddle with the smashed eggs.

He frowns, hands jammed into his pockets, this stupid look of concern coming over his face that makes you want to choke it right off. “Listen, y/n, whatever they did to you - however they hurt you - it’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m here to take you away and undo all this shit they’ve put in your head.”

“You think that’s going to work on me after what you did?!” You hardly recognize your own shrill screech, don’t realize you’re jamming a finger into his chest until your toe to toe with him. “They might be assholes and manipulators, sure, Bradford, but you-“ You poke his sternum hard, make him wince and love that pained look on his face more than you should - “you’re much fucking worse. Because at least they care about something other than themselves.”

His expression is one of pity, like he’s looking at an abused, bite happy dog about to be put down. “You think they care about you?” His voice is quiet, sympathetic, overly kind, it makes your stomach turn. “Oh, sweetheart-“

“Oh, sweetheart,” you mock, the acid in your body leaking and bubbling from your throat. “Do me a favor and get out. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.”

He seems entirely unaffected by you. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.”

You feel a tiny sting in your shoulder, look down to see a needled splinter sticking out, reach to pull it free, but it’s far too late, because your hand doesn’t work. And neither do your legs. You black out before landing face first into the eggs.

They’ve got you trussed up again. Pretty silk ropes dimple your skin. John finishes the knots on your thighs, fingers tickling lazily over the fabric and making you squirm and whine. “Comfy?” He asks, kissing your cheekbone and smiling at you.

You nod, pull at your bonds, become thrilled when you realize you’re not going anywhere. You wiggle your toes, testing circulation by gauging feeling to your digits. Perfect, as always. John’s handiwork is unmatched. And you are absolutely drenched and throbbing by the time he gets done tightening his last little tie.

“Oh, you’re so pretty,” he tells you, nuzzling his nose into your hairline. You shudder and giggle, melting under that praise he has grown fond of giving. His balmy voice gets your toes curling instead of flexing.

Tex comes back into the room with the bottle of sandalwood and vanilla oils. It smells heavenly and makes you clench hellishly as he works it into his bulky palms and grins at his favorite girl. “You ready for that massage, pumpkin?”

Something slams violently close to your ear, startling you out of the dreaming memory, making you gasp and flinch. You can’t go far, because you’re handcuffed to a metal chair. Hands and feet. Too tight. Fingers and toes already numb and cold. Your face feels sticky and itchy. Metal scrapes metal in a terrible symphony that jabs behind your eyes and gets them open.

You’re in a white, windowless room, far from John and Tex, but close to agent Bradford. He’s smiling now, pleased about something, leaning over the silver table to examine your face. “That’s a nasty bruise, kid,” he says, pointing to his own forehead. “Sorry I couldn’t catch you.”

You scowl at him. “Yeah, whatever.” Your head does hurt, though, and you feel like you’ve been run over by a monster truck again. Still, that fire in you doesn’t seem to want to die, and you’re incredibly grateful for whatever miracle furnace is fueling it. “Are you gonna tell me why I’m here? Or just stare at me like a fucking creep?”

He chuckles. “Do you know where you are?”

“Oh yeah,” you spit, “I definitely remember this windowless white fucking room from good times growing up.” Rolling your eyes hurts more than you think it will.

“You’re under possession of the FBI, y/n, and if I were you, I’d be grateful we didn’t just hand you over to the Bratva ourselves. Because they would have done much worse to you than we’re about to do.”

Johnwickb1tsch:

As your mind clears from the drugs Bradford gave you, you start to think a bit more critically about your situation. The fact that he has taken you hostage without the fanfare of an official FBI raid suggests he's still working under the radar. He must have baited your boys with some convincing ruse to make them both leave the house.

"You should really do yourself a favor, and return me to them," you advise. You flex against the cuffs, trying to get circulation. They really are too tight, and you can't help but compare it to the careful way John always bound you. Who is the bad guy here? All the lines have blurred.

"I can't help but notice you're not asking to just be let go."

It's a development that surprises you too, but you don't feel like analyzing it right now. All you know is that you miss them, like a crucial piece of your heart has been plucked from you. And maybe it's fucked up, but you want the man responsible to pay.

"I'm not as stupid as you are, apparently. Don't you understand who you're dealing with?"

"Tex Johnson, former Marine, dishonorable discharge in his first tour of Iraq, turned Hollywood stunt man and mafia hitman. John Wick is harder to put a thumb down on. Bogus birth certificate, it's doubtful it's his real name. He was probably trafficked into the country as a child from the Soviet Union by one of the syndicates. He's been associated with various underworld groups since he was a teen."

This was, in fact, way more than you knew about your boys, but you were loathe to admit it.

"What I mean, is if you keep this up you're a dead man walking. They'll do anything to get me back."

"It sounds like you want them to get you back."

"At this point? I like them a lot better than you."

"Yeah, you seemed pretty cozy there. I think you have a touch of Stockholm Syndrome."

The thought of this man, of all people, moralizing at you and basically calling you mentally ill, pisses you off even more.

"Did you know Stockholm Syndrome is a bullshit diagnosis favored by law enforcement, invented by two male psychologists to describe a woman who had been in a hostage situation, who they had never even met? She was held hostage by a bank robber in Sweden, and as she watched the police completely bungle the situation she was afraid they would come charging in and kill everyone in a hail of bullets. She advocated for a more peaceful solution that didn't involve her getting shot, and was branded as neurotically sympathetic to her captor for it. But you've been through Quantico. You should already know this."

Bradford frowns down at you, and your inconvenient penchant for facts.

"Alright, smarty pants, be that way. But when the media gets a hold of you after this, you're going to want something to blame, believe me."

"How about you, you crooked son of a bitch?"

"Me? I'm going to be the agent who single handedly brought down the Nobokov Bratva, two wanted contract killers, and saved their hostage. I'll be a hero."

"What about the money you took?"

"Playing a role, all part of my master plan."

He smirks at you, letting you know that at least some of that money is not going to make it into evidence.

"Wait...isn't Dmitri Nobokov dead?"

"As a doornail. But his son is still around, and he wants blood."

You think about this a moment.

"And you're using me as bait?"

"Now you're catching on. You've got a date with Igor Nobokov tonight."

"And you're counting on...them all killing each other?"

"Something like that."

You just laugh.

"Right? I think it's funny too."

"I'm not laughing at that."

"No?"

"No. I'm laughing because my boys are going to fucking kill you all."

You find that you truly believe it, to the marrow of your bones.

Bradford just smirks. "We'll see."

You certainly would.

His phone starts ringing, and he reaches into his pocket for it. "Bradford."

"Well hello, Agent Dipshit."

"Tex. Thought you'd never call."

gif by johnswick

Just hearing his ridiculous, stupid, wonderful voice, even tinny through the phone, sends a wave of relief through you.

"Gotta say, I took you for smarter than this."

"How you figure?"

"You're an FBI hotshot with a fancy degree. I'm sure you've got a profile on me. Narcissistic psychopath, is what Uncle Sam told me. That means there aren't many things in this world I care about outside of yours truly, but you've managed to take one of 'em from me. Can't say that bodes well for you."

"I guess that's a matter of perspective, Mr. Johnson."

"Proof of life?"

"She's right here. Say hello, y/n."

Glaring at Bradford, you speak into his outstretched phone. "Tex, it's a trap!"

Bradford reaches out to smack you in the mouth, staring you down.

"Ow! Motherfucker!"

For a moment there is a deadly silence on the other end of the line.

"My turn. Say hello, Mrs. Bradford."

Bradford's face goes white as a sheet. "Anthony? I'm scared. Please, just do whatever they say."

"Veronica? It's going to be ok, honey, just stay calm. If you fuckers hurt her so help me God--"

"Maybe we will, maybe we won't. All depends on you, son. So listen close."

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

"Who knew this AI shit could be so handy?"

John just nods, utterly stoic, closing the laptop. After feeding multiple insufferable Facebook videos about cooking and keeping house by the lovely Mrs. Bradford through a program, they were able to create a perfect facsimile of her voice, good enough to fool her husband over the phone.

Now Bradford would meet them in a location of their choosing. The advantage was theirs.

Or so they hoped.

Either way, Bradford was dead meat.

[sissylittlefeather]

10 - E - And you already know my depraved ass is going to need as much smut as you can forcibly pack into 500 words, baby doll! 😘

I'm so happy for you!

Congratulations on 200! 🎉 ❤️

Thank you so much!!! Love you 😘!

Alright, this is short, but it got dirrttyyy. I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, oral sex (m receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, almost choking if you squint, Elvis calls himself "daddy" in a sexual context

Prompt: "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" With '69-'73 Vegas Elvis

The second the curtain drops, Elvis heads backstage, trying to hide the fact that he has a massive erection. The energy from the show and the way this particular suit rubbed against him created an effect that he enjoyed more than he wanted to.

"Where's my wife?" He calls, rearranging his belt again to keep his dick pressed up against his lower stomach.

"I'm here, baby." You call out from where you are standing backstage chatting with the Sweet Inspirations about the show.

"C'mere." He does a motion with his fingers that is undeniably sexual and turns you on more than you care to admit. That man drives you crazy in all the best ways.

You walk over to where he's standing and he throws his arm around you and damn near drags you to his dressing room. You start to get a little concerned at his urgency. When you get there, he pushes you inside and closes the door behind himself and quickly locks it.

"Baby, what--?"

"I need your help with this." He moves his belt so that his erect dick becomes visible. You can't contain the laughter that spills out of you in a cascade of giggles. He puts his hands on his hips and looks at the ceiling, embarrassed and trying not to laugh.

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" He looks down at you as you continue to laugh, tears squeezing out of your eyes, and starts laughing with you, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry... it's just... how long were you hiding that on stage?!"

"Long enough. Now I have to be back out there in less than an hour, are you going to help me or not? I'd rather have you, but if you won't then..." he waves his left hand in the air and gestures with the other for you to leave.

"No, no, I'm sorry." You walk over and wrap your arms around his waist, tipping your face up towards him. He leans over and kisses you, wrapping himself around you. He kisses down your neck, nibbling on your ear for a bit. It doesn't take long for your arousal to match his and before you know it, he's got your shirt off and is unzipping your skirt. You run your hands up his chest under his jumpsuit and push it back off of his shoulders. The smell of his sweat mixed with his cologne drives you wild as you undress him. He slides your skirt down, dropping it to the floor and moves back up to unhook your bra. When he gets it off of you, he kisses down your chest and gently runs his tongue over your nipple as it hardens. He moves to the other one and sucks on it softly. Finally, you push the rest of his jumpsuit over his hips, where it lands on the floor with your clothes. His dick bounces as it's given the freedom it's needed for the past half hour. You get on your knees in front of him, taking him in your hand and rolling his foreskin back. You suck on the tip of his dick, already salty with desire. He grunts and leans his head back, getting some relief at long last. You continue working him with your tongue and hands, letting him thrust into your mouth for a bit. When you can tell he's getting close, you stop and stand up. He grabs you and bends you over the counter of the vanity, ripping your panties off. Then, you both watch in the mirror as he fucks you relentlessly from behind, your breasts jumping with the rhythm of his hips. He grabs the back of your hair and pulls as he continues to pound into you. Then, he stands you up and wraps one arm around your waist and the other hand around your throat. You can feel the coldness of his rings against your neck and the visual in the mirror of him holding you like this as he fucks you pushes you headfirst into an orgasm. He whispers in your ear as you climax.

"That's right. Come for daddy." All you can do is moan in response as you're hit with the intense and overwhelming ecstasy. After your orgasm, he lets go of you and goes back to holding your hips. You know he must be getting close because he closes his eyes and leans his head back.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK." He says with gritted teeth as he pounds you through his release. When he's finished, you turn to face him and push his hair back off of his forehead. It's even sweatier now than it was when he came off the stage. He snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you close to him. You're still standing in this position, naked, when there's a knock on the door.

"You got ten minutes, boss." He sighs and his response is muffled by his face being in your hair.

"Okay. Thanks." He finally pulls away from you and holds your face in his hands.

"And thank you, honey. For your help."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[j0kers-light]

I am not sure if your requests are open but was wondering if you would do a smut one-shot where y/n and joker dress up like their getting married maybe it's y/ns weird fetish or jokers but it is one of thems idea that's up to you

[Most importantly hope you don't mind this but the joker isn't wearing any makeup in this]

Ps. Love his lighthouse love it

His Lighthouse: A White Future (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

A White Future - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!

Hey hi @jokerslittlepage 🖤✨please excuse me for taking so long in writing this! This one was tricky to write I'm not gonna lie… I feel like Joker is a little OOC in it since I mostly head canon his against marriage but hey. I did what needed to be done. Please don’t hate me!! 🥹🥹 and at this point Joker rarely wears his clown makeup around Y/n so you’re all good beloved!

Enjoy as I post this in the dark at 1AM!

— Oh and this is definitely not possibly canon with His Lighthouse. You'll understand after reading lol 🤭

Also I'm kinda feeling this song playing in the background as Joker and Y/n dance on the balcony. Its soft and gentle enough yet angst for this ill fated couple 😘

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher

Wanna be included in the His Lighthouse journey? Join the taglist!

Joker blamed you for this.

You unlocked another one of his weird fetishes that he never would have known existed, all completely by accident.

You were cleaning out the closet in the guest bedroom and trying on things to see if they still fit. If it didn't, you were donating it.

Joker had returned from a late night meeting at the main hideout and was relaxing on the bed, still dressed in this three piece suit. This one was all black, giving off mafia vibes, especially since he proudly wore the gold chain you bought him around his neck.

Your initials were on a small charm hanging from it. It was a subtle way for Joker to acknowledge his girl; he never took it off.

Joker washed his clown makeup off in the bathroom and was content watching the strip tease and mini fashion show you were putting on. So far he kept his hands to himself.

No surprise Joker was a great judge with his killer fashion sense. He was honest about the things you tried on.

"It's a no for meee."

"Wait, Bunny! Keep that one. It makes your hips look... mmm. C'mere pretty thing.."

"I dunno.. bell bottoms are making a uhhh comeback. I like the color, doll."

"Don't even try that on. Toss it."

"Y/n, what possessed you to buy that?"

Rude comments and all, you were making progress with Joker's help! You had almost everything cleared out and ready to either return back into the closet or in bins for charity, that is, until you squealed and dug out a white garment bag.

"I forgot about this!" You laid the bag out on the nearby couch and unzipped it.

Joker lifted his head at the sound and watched you eagerly lift up a dress. From here it looked cream or was it white? He spoke up to ask. "What's that, bunny?"

He missed your megawatt smile. "One of my fans invited me to her all white wedding before you and I met. She asked me to be her bridesmaid and I totally forgot I kept the dress!"

You held it up to your body and faced the mirror. She was so happy you made it and they were such a beautiful couple. You were glad you made her day even more special by being there. You smiled while reminiscing fond memories.

You turned just enough for J to finally see that garment in its entirety and his brain swiftly short circuited.

"Put it on."

You turned towards Joker. "Huh?"

He had this hazy look in his eyes as he watched you stand before the mirror. The urge to see you in white struck him hard and fast. He didn't know why.

"I said.. Put. It. On."

You knew that tone very well and scrambled to do what Joker said before he lost patience.

You took off your bra and shimmied into the cool satin material. The panty line was too harsh in the white fabric so without thinking, you peeled off your panties and tossed them aside.

Joker swallowed audibly watching them go. He liked that pair very much. However they looked better on the floor.

"Can you zip and button me up?" You held the front of the dress up to your breasts and moved your hair back for him.

Joker took in a shaky breath. The dress wasn't even on properly and he was already having impure thoughts. The ivory color against your darker skin just made it pop even more. You tried on countless articles of clothing tonight but this was the icing on the cake. He stood up from the bed and walked over to you.

His green eyes met your e/c ones in the mirror before you looked away, hiding your flushed cheeks. For once he didn't comment on your skittish behavior.

He reached out and pulled the zipper up, letting his fingers brush against your skin like a feather.

The intimate gesture sent shivers down your spine.

Joker was so close you could feel his body heat on your exposed skin and his hands were like a branding iron buttoning the two pearls at your neck. When he was done, Joker rested his hands on your shoulder and spoke to your reflection.

"You ahhh need heels." He whispered on your neck.

You didn't understand where he was going with this. You weren't trying on full outfits, just the clothing itself.

Joker rolled his eyes when you didn't move and stalked over to your endless pile of heels for himself. He flung a few to the side and mumbled under his breath when he couldn't find the ones he was looking for.

"J what are you doing?" You walked over barefoot but jumped when J laughed after finding the perfect pair. He wordlessly pointed for you to sit down.

Thank goodness a chair was nearby. Joker meant business when he didn't speak. You flopped down in your sage accent chair and waited for the lion to stalk its prey.

You were speechless when Joker got down on his knees to put a pair of Tom Ford stilettos on your dainty feet. They were the same pair he gifted you recently. He swore he purchased them with real money.

Like you actually believed him.

Regardless if he obtained them legally or not, they made your skin tone pop even more and highlighted the stark white of the bridesmaid dress.

You wore clear heels to the wedding but Joker was in charge here. Only the best for his Light.

"There... perfect." He whispered more to himself than you. His green eyes snapped up to you. Joker's hands were rubbing your calves but they slowly creeped up under the gown to caress your thighs. "A vision in white."

From the halter neck to the draped bodice, you were a sight to behold. This gown, what it represented, was doing things to him. His Light bathed in white whereas he was swallowed in darkness.

Yin and yang. The two of you were polar opposites and he absolutely loved it.

"A-Alrighty.. um it still fits! So um... can I take this dress off now?" You asked with a shaky breath. Green eyes pinned you down further into the seat as Joker's lips inched closer and closer to yours.

"NoPe. It's our big day and you look... phenomenal. You look so heavenly.. n' all for me." Joker tucked a wayward curl of hair back behind your ear.

His words made your eyes widen. Big day? What was he going on about?

"J.. what're you..?"

"Stay right here, doll. Don't. Move." He ordered. He grinned at you before backing away and leaving the room altogether.

You blinked in shock but did as you were told.

Just what had gotten into Joker and where did he go? It was taking him longer than a minute to return.

You tapped your heels on the floor as you waited.

He came back with your fresh bouquet of flowers that you always kept on display in the foyer. This week it was a hodgepodge of wildflowers mixed in with chrysanthemums and snapdragons; the perfect wedding arrangement. You finally had an understanding of what was going on here.

"Did you know it's considered bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?" You accepted the fresh flora and discreetly shook off the excess water from the stems before it soaked into your satin dress.

Joker just shrugged and helped you to your feet. He kissed your cheek and led you out of the bedroom. "Who needs luck when I have you?"

Now that was sweet.

You bowed your head and let Joker guide you out onto the balcony. He walked you out just like a newlywed couple to the reception.

The night was balmy and the distant lights from the Fashion District cast a neon glow on everything. Joker stepped away to turn on the patio's string of lights to soften things up a bit.

They came on and illuminated you in a warm intimate glow. You were missing a veil for this to truly be a dream come true. Joker would just have to go without. Your smile monopolized all of his attention anyways.

You shined brightly just like the lighthouse he named you after. You laughed when Joker bowed and offered you his hand, like a true gentleman.

You both knew he was anything but.

"May I have this uhh, dance?"

Joker's smile was genuine and without his signature makeup, he looked dazzling under the twinkling lights.

You could stare at J for hours. You didn't care about his scars. Yes, they made him into the fearsome man he was, but in your opinion, Joker was beyond stunning no matter how you looked at him.

How could you say no to such a handsome man?

With your bouquet in one hand– you gave Joker the other as he swept you up into a ballroom waltz right there on the balcony.

You heard gentle music playing from the speakers and knew this must've been what he ran off to prepare.

"But you don't plan things.." You mumbled under your breath.

Joker kissed your cheek to silence his laugh. You loved pointing out his affinity for structure and plans.

The two of you danced along to the soft music and stared into each other's eyes. Yours were more bashful whereas Joker did nothing to hide his desire. The grip he had on your hip clenched tighter when you bit your lip. It wasn't unusual for Joker to get handsy but your curiosity got the better of you at the origin of his passion.

"So... um you're not gonna tell me what brought this on?"

He scoffed as if you should've already known the answer. "Do I need an excuse to dance with my wife?" Joker dipped you suddenly.

You were sputtering and gaping like a fish. "W-Whahh? Wife?" He slowly straightened you back up.

"Do play along, Y/n." Joker said with an eye roll.

"Oh I'm sorry Joker! I didn't know we were roleplaying tonight. I was trying on clothes and you went all... thison me! How was I supposed to know you had a bridal fetish or whatever this is? I bet you wanna skip straight to the honeymoon anyways."

You looked away and missed Joker's licking his scars in agitation. You knew the exact buttons to press with him, it was infuriating.

The scene was set. Why couldn't you just play along?

Joker spun you again but this time he jerked you roughly so your back was against his chest. He kept you steady on your feet with his strong grip.

"I.... didn't know I had one until you found this... this... dress. White looks soo... ethereal on you my Light. So what if I wanna end our uhhh re-cep-tion early and consummate our bond. Hmm? Are ya gonna stop me? We both know that's what you wanT."

Joker leaned down to whisper in your ear. "You wanted me since the moment I came home."

That may be true, but he didn't have to call you out on it!

That matte black suit of his was equal parts sinful and alluring plus you really wanted that gold chain of his swinging in your face tonight.. An airy moan slipped out before you could stop it.

How did he know your body better than you?!

Joker ran his hand down the front of your dress and bunched the satin material up until your legs were bare to his touch. The humid air teased your bare sex, making you shiver.

"I bet you're thinking about it.. righT now, aren't ya? Let's see just how needy my wife is..." 

Without warning, Joker plunged his fingers into your wet pussy. You clutched onto his forearms and gasped at the intrusion.

"Told ya, princess.. you're sopping wet for me." He groaned at hearing your wet lips gush out as he thrusted them deeper inside. Your eyes fluttered half mast but flew back open in fear.

You looked left and right, hoping it was dark enough for your neighbors to not witness what was going on your balcony.

Just because you owned the penthouse didn't mean there weren't other buildings surrounding yours. Gotham City was notorious for peeping toms and noisy neighbors.

"J-J... my mmph!" Your complaint fizzled away when Joker's thumb rubbed at your clit. Why did you take your panties off around this man?

J loves when you wear dresses and skirts for 'easy access' and for good reason.

The man was a sorcerer with his fingers and you loved when he worked his magic. He curled them just so and had you hurling straight to the cusp of pleasure in record time.

You were wet the moment he walked in the bedroom but he didn't need to know that. Joker knew his tailored suits turned you on.

Finally getting some much needed stimulation was sending you over the edge. You clawed at J's arms as the heat threatened to consume you entirely.

A flick of his thumb against your bundle of nerves and you were moaning out in ecstasy.

You made a mess of his fingers right there for anyone to see if they looked out their window. The thrill of being seen had you squirming in J's arms. You swatted at his hand with your flowers when he tried to prolong your orgasm.

He easily overpowered you and laughed at your sensitive walls clenching down on his fingers. Joker clicked his tongue when you tried bucking away from him.

"Tsk. Always running away." He sighed.

You squeaked when he picked you up, bridal style, and carried you back inside.

Usually Joker would toss you down on any nearby surface and watch your body bounce helplessly before he dragged you back towards him, but today was different.

Today, Joker stopped into your enclosed sunroom and set you down gently on the couch. He hit the light switch and instantly the balcony lights went out and plunged the both of you into darkness.

Now only the moonlight shining in from the glass roof guided his lips to yours.

You dropped your flowers to cradle the back of Joker's head and deepened the kiss. He let you have control for as long as it took him to discard his suit jacket and rip off his tie. He was working on the buttons on his shirt when you pulled away.

"Ngh, no let me... l-let your wife do it." You moaned out.

Your hands were shaking as you undid the buttons. You were too nervous to look up at the panting dragon before you.

Joker let you push his shirt off his shoulders but he tilted your chin up when you failed to look up.

You acknowledged your role and needed to be rewarded.

He whispered your name amongst the lush plants and flora in your sunroom. The air in here was stuffy since he left the balcony's sliding door open. You were already collecting sweat on your brow and good thing Joker took off his makeup earlier or it would be melting off of him.

He still licked at lips in that nervous habit of his.

"Do you want this? Tell me to uhh stop if ya don't." Joker slowly pushed your dress up to bunch up around your stomach. He had no plans of taking it off. If he did, he'd risk tearing it to shreds and that wouldn't do.

If he had it his way, you would wear white everyday, you looked so beautiful in it. But back to the matter at hand.

You nodded in the dark and wrapped an arm around Joker's shoulder. His gold chain was still cool to the touch and you ran your fingers over it fondly.

"I want this. I-I want you. Please, J."

He left a kiss to your forehead and groaned. "You already have me, Y/n."

Joker moved to remove his pants after earning your consent. The sound of his belt buckle in the dark sent a rush of adrenaline to your core. You were excited and the fact you could hardly see made this encounter even more hot.

Your heart was beating out of your chest when you felt Joker's hands slide up your heel clad legs and yank you closer to him. Your back hit the couch cushions and you scrambled for something to hold onto in the dark.

Joker must've seen you flailing around since he guided your hands back onto his shoulders.

No fair how he could see perfectly in the dark whereas you were blind as a hehe... bat. 

"Hey.. I wanna see yo— ah!"

Joker slapped his cock on your pussy as if he heard your joke. You jumped at each impact of his hard on hitting your clit and clawed at his upper back in delight.

He seemed to enjoy the sting and tipped his head back in a groan.

Then a pair of neon green eyes stole your attention. It was unnatural the way they reflected off the lack of light, almost feline at times. Joker's night vision was legendary and it was all focused on you.

Your beautiful body sprawled out on the couch. Your curls framing your face like a halo and Joker swore the white of your gown made your melanin skin glow.

How did he get so lucky? He must be dreaming. If it were a dream, he would enjoy it while it lasted.

Joker slid his dick into you, slacked jaw and eyes filled with longing. Your eyes rolled back feeling him stretch you open and come to a rest inside. Joker panted above you and braced his weight on his hands near your head.

You were now caged in with nowhere to go.

"Yeah? This what you– mmhm d__n, is this what you needed, my Light? If ya want me, then take it. Take. All. Of. Meee." Joker grunted and set a rhythm; steady deep thrusts that jolted your entire body and stole your breath.

You buried your hands into his hair and tugged, knowing J loved that. He moved with the motion and laughed to himself.

"F__k, relax Princess and work with me." He pulled his hips back so he could slam into your pussy deeper.

You cried out and wrapped your legs around his waist. He felt the straps of your heels press into his back.

Note to self, clothed sex was hot.

"See? There ya go.. now I can beat it up just the way ya like it. Ohhhh, I got the best wife. Tight cunt, killer body... sexy moans– louder doll. I wanna hear just how good I'm making ya feel."

You bared your neck as he picked up the pace and plowed into your womb. Each rock of his hips hit your g spot and made you dizzy.

You looked up and watched the clouds distort the image of the moon through the roof. Such a beautiful night spent with the one you love.

Joker noticed your distracted gaze and brought your focus back on him by pressing down on your lower belly. You keened loudly in his ear.

"Haha. Eyes on me, Princess. I know, I know. You can cum if it feels that go~od."

You nodded, gasped sweetly, and then came on Joker's cock. And he didn't stop his powerful thrusts either. He plowed right through your orgasm with no regard for your hypersensitivity.

You couldn't escape his passion and took out your agony on his back. Joker hissed when your nails initially dug into his skin but laughed it off.

"Argh, those d__n nails of yours are sharp! Is it really that good, darling? Too much cock making you go crazy stupid already? You want me to stop? Huh? Too bad, cuz I'm noT done yet." He groaned when your walls clamped down tighter on this dick but he recovered quickly to resume his brutal thrusts.

He picked you up by your waist and positioned you to straddle him properly on the couch.

You cried out when you sank further down on Joker's cock due to the angle.

Now he could see you properly as a beam of moonlight shined down from the roof to a spotlight on you bathed in white.

Your hair was in complete disarray and your lips red from biting them in pleasure but in Joker's eyes, you were absolutely stunning.

You locked eyes with Joker and braced your hands on his shoulders. His fair skin was flushed red from exertion but he still looked every bit of Gotham's City most wanted criminal.

The dark gleam in his eyes was a warning in itself.

Your gaze latched onto the gold chain hanging around his neck, and most importantly, the tiny charm with your initial bouncing with each thrust Joker made up into your pussy.

It was hypnotizing and you couldn't help but lean forward to kiss Joker.

He didn't mind and slowed things down so you could feel each vein sliding against your gummy walls. The wet slap of skin and heavy pants was the only sound in the sunroom. You wouldn't be surprised if the glass behind Joker was fogged up by your lovemaking. It was still too dark to tell for sure.

You were the focal point here so you leaned back and put in some work to get Joker off.

You rolled your hips in figure eights that he loved so much and was quickly rewarded.

Joker placed his hands onto your hips and used them like handlebars.

"D__n Y/n. F__k meeeeee." He leaned back on the couch and watched you ride his dick, chasing another orgasm.

You didn't care that you were getting your dress dirty or that your feet were killing you in your stilettos.

Joker took one look at you dressed in white and gold and smacked your behind. You whimpered softly. The sting spurred you to go faster and you began chanting Joker's name like a prayer.

"Nuh uh bunny. You know what ta call me." J whined when you clenched tighter around him.

You bit your lip, looking away.

He could call you wife all night long but it was something different about returning the favor. You knew Joker needed this to get off but it meant more to you.

"Say it Y/n.. p-plea— nghh just once. That's all I, ahhh, that's all I neeeed, darling. I want you to have it, but I need.."

Oh. Joker begging meant he was serious. His eyes were squeezed shut as he neared his own release but you could tell something was holding him back.

You could feel it with how handsy and needy he became. Anything could spill from Joker's lips as he reached his summit. He needed whatever this fetish was.

You drew in limited air and blew it out in a shaky moan.

Just the sight of Joker, usually so composed and calculated, losing all self control– because of you, was empowering. At this rate you were gonna cum again.

You wanted Joker to cum with you; it felt right with the emotions floating in the air tonight.

You choked back a moan, "I want it! I want my husband to c-cum. I need you, J! Please fill me up!"

His reaction was instant.

"Yeah? Ya want it? My beautiful wife wants my cum? Anything you want, it's yours, Y/n. Ask of me anything. I will defy my own will to grant your desires!! Y-You can have it all just.. stay with me. F-Foreever. Never.. s__t, so tight! Never leave me Bunny." 

You recognized your own book quote mixed in with Joker's pleas and moans. If possible, you fell even deeper in love. You wouldn't stop for anything after hearing that.

You felt the moment Joker came undone.

He squeezed you close as his hips bucked up into yours uncontrollably. He didn't care about moaning obscenely in your ear because he babbled his deepest darkest fears to you in between struggling to breathe.

"Stay with me, Y/n.. I need.. I need you please— you complete me. You own me. Don't go.. my beautiful wife. M-My Light. All mine.."

It was the most vulnerable you ever heard Joker speak. He was open about his future with you.

You were uncertain about his plans after he healed up and left, but tonight you got a glimpse of the future. He wasn't going anywhere and neither were you and you never felt more closer to him than in that moment.

You bared down and let a silent scream paint your features as your own climax was ripped from out under you.

The fact you came with Joker made the release ten times more intense and hearing him confess in your ear was like an atomic bomb.

Joker fell back and took you with him as the afterglow hit you both. Shivers and gasps were exchanged in the muggy room.

Your dress was sticking to your sweaty skin and you felt absolutely euphoric wrapped up in the arms of your lover. Joker wasn't in any better shape. The satin fabric of your dress was brushing up against his sensitive skin with every rise and fall of your breathing but he couldn't move.

He was slowly softening inside of you and cum was oozing from your pussy and pooling down to your inner thighs.

It was filthy but neither of you could bear to move. You were right where you needed to be. In his arms.

If Joker had a shred of morals he would carry you to the bath and help wash you up but first he had to address what he said during the heat of the moment.

Joker rubbed his scarred lips along your collarbone and subtly cleared his throat.

"I.. meanT it, Y/n." You turned your head and rested it under Joker's chin. "I dunno what started all of this but I uhh.. I'd like that. Us. You know... together.. Not right now! But ahh uhh.. it's on the table for the future... if ya want."

You tensed up in his arms and he thought the worst.

What if you disagreed and thought he was insane? What if you wanted nothing more to do with him? Was this the end of this phenomenal relationship all because he considered marriage?

Joker sounded so cute, all bashful and unsure of himself and you loved watching his eyes dart around in a panic. You put his worries at ease by leaning up and kissing him soundly.

"I meant what I said too silly. I-I need you too but only if you'll have me." You looped your hands with Joker's much larger ones.

He stared at the clash of skin tones and sighed. He was worrying over nothing.

"Forever then, yeah?" He kissed your palm before looking down at you. That breathtaking smile of yours was highlighted by the moonlight.

Since J quoted The Greeks Among Us, you decided to do the same.

"Until the last star fades in the night sky, I'm yours forever and ever, ο εραστής μου."

He rolled his eyes at your direct quote but attacked you with kisses anyway. His sweet little nerd. However the phrase summarized your love perfectly, all for a man who didn't deserve a single ounce of it.

Joker would spend the rest of his days proving his love for you. He could start by giving you that ring he bought.

[mangoposts]

I don't really talk much, much less do confrontation(😷)

but if I were in that podcast room I'd be sitting literally on Matts lap and letting him talk to me while the other 2 probably gag at us,

cause I'll be DAMNED if I sit here and let my pookie be silenced- c'mere Matty bear I'll let you talk for however long you want 😘💞💓💗

Also can we talk about how Snoopy is Matt 😭😭 that bottom right photo is literally him in the winter ✋😐✋

THESE PICS ARE LITERALLY HIM

[link-sans-specs]

Okay, Cheetah Girls.

GMM2572

Oldest vs. Newest Italian Restaurant Taste Test

[buckgasms]

Hi, sorry for disturbing you with my request, but I would like to see how Daddy Bear takes care of goldilocks when she falls sick I'm in the mood for some tooth rotting fluff😭 sorry for disturbing you once again

Oooof yes I'm down for this.... Thank you sweet nonnie! Sorry this took a while but I really appreciate you writing to me 😘 also you could never disturb me, you are always welcome here 🩷

In all honesty, my belief is that if Goldilocks got sick, Daddy Bear would freak the fuck out and go into crazy care mode.

He can't believe he let this happen to you, and the sooner you're better the sooner he can show you how sorry he is. He also worries that if it turns into something worse, he'll have to figure out who he can trust to help him without taking you out in the real world again.

For now, you have the world's best nurse and you honestly consider faking being ill for an extra few days because this is a sweet set up.

🤧

Bucky takes a week off work and heads out to get supplies so he doesn't have to be away from your side for the entirety of your cold. I say cold, but he treats it like you may wither away at any moment.

When he returns with the shopping he finds you making a cup of tea and sniffling, instantly worrying him. He drops the bags and rushes over, pressing his hand to your forehead.

"Goldilocks you're so hot, c'mere" and before you can even move he scoops you up and carries you into the living room and plops you down on the big sofa. He helps you remove your his hoodie and you settle back on the cushions as he looks at you.

His hand trails from your forehead, to cheek to neck. "That's a bit better. You gotta leave it all to me pretty baby. Need to get you better..."

You are about to say something but he hushes you and gives you that look. "Just cos you're sick doesn't mean I won't spank you for talking back sweetheart." So you swallow your words and smile, before sneezing.

🤧

Once your flu really settles in you feel truly exhausted and achey and you find yourself drifting into familiar submissive territory as he takes care of you.

You crave his body warmth so he acts as a perfect hot water bottle, which you cling to like a koala. He rubs your back, shoulders, arms and legs when they feel sore and presses kisses to you when you whine and moan in your naps.

"Daddy bear..." you mumble as you wake up once again, this time finding yourself in bed. A shiver runs through your body and he instantly presses his warm hands to your skin, and you moan softly before clinging ever closer.

"Time for lunch darlin', gotta eat something for me mkay?" He says softly and you whine again as he moves you into a sitting position and pulls up a bowl of soup.

You go to reach for it, but he pulls it away gently. "Open up" he says and you can't help the flush of excitement that rushes through your body when he says it.

He smiles a little, seeing the reaction. God you're well trained for him now. Makes his thoughts race, but you sniffle again and he focuses up, feeding you slowly until you've eaten your soup. Plenty of time to play when you're better.

🤧

The week continues much the same, and as you start to improve, his worry is replaced by a deep, primal satisfaction that you belong to him and that you need him.

You shuffle around the cabin a little more, mostly following him when he leaves you to do something.

"Now I'm sure I left you on the sofa Goldilocks? Whaddya doing in here?" He asks as you tiptoe into the bathroom, a blanket wrapped around your tired body.

"Missed you Daddy Bear..." You pout and lean against the cool wall, as he folds some towels. He puts it down and pulls you into his arms, kissing your forehead.

"Hmm you seem a lot better now baby..." But he laughs when you moan and shake your head. "Still sick.... Need you.." you whimper and cling to his jumper. He relents and walks you back into the bedroom this time.

"Ok Goldilocks... Daddy is here, show me what you need."

You take a little time adjusting the pillows, finding fresh blankets and PJ's to get in to. Daddy Bear helps you change which is a tense few moments of him running warm hands over your skin, making sure you haven't forgot his touch in the last few days.

He squeezes your thighs, tummy and breasts briefly making your breath hitch in your throat and cling to him tightly as he smiles. "Always such a needy thing ain't ya..." And you can only nod. Finally he lets you push him into bed and you ask him to turn the lights down to a nice dim level.

You shuffle into his arm, gripping him tightly as you press your face into his chest. "Don't leave Daddy Bear... Please..." You whisper and his heart soars, hands holding you tighter than ever.

"Never sweetheart, I got you forever" he says softly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

[gallacrafts]

🎆 GALLACRAFTS SECOND ANNIVERSARY PROJECT (& Theme 21)🎆

It's MAY now! Which means, the time has come

The Mission (should you choose to accept it):

the 2nd anniversary project is to make crafts which will be turned (if you wish) onto Redbubble merch (t-shirts, mugs, stickers oh my!) that you and anyone else who wishes can buy and wear and use and love every day 🥰

here's how it will work:

The Why: basically every month we have people asking for crafts to become merch, so for this project we thought WHY NOT?!?!

The What: the theme for May will be THROWBACK THEME 2, meaning you can revisit any of the previous themes from two years of Gallacrafts

The How: it's a COLLABORATIVE project if you want it to be, so grab a partner or a group now

The When: posting day will be Sunday 21 May

The Where: we'll work our magic to set up a Redbubble store in June with your designs plus some special anniversary designs we'll put together. the store will be open all of July which is our second anniversary month!

we'll do reminders in May but for now put on your thinking caps and grab a partner or group! -> This is the reminder!

there's also this month's theme This Kiss to keep you busy in the meantime 😘

Frequently Asked Questions

I don't have anyone to collab with, what do I do?

We're running a matchmaking service so send Cherry @too-schoolforcool or Donna @sleepyfacetoughguy a DM if you'd like some help, or alternatively come hang over on the Gallacrafts Discord.

Also, if you'd prefer to work alone, feel free!

What were the past themes?

Fuck U-Up

Breakfast Boys

Choose your own adventure

Family's Family

Secret Santavich

🖕🖕 And especially fuck you

C'mere

Stargazing

Deleted scenes

EMT Ian

I'm fucking gay

You're under my skin

Team theme/we make a good team

I like 'em sweet/gallacrafts after dark

Holiday cards

Wearable crafts

Short King

Big Fic Energy

This Kiss

(psssst you can also check out past themes on the Gallacrafts Blog here!)

I want to participate in this month's theme but don't want my craft on merch, what do I do?

Absolutely no problem! Either contact one of the admins (Cherry or Donna) & let them know, or state in your post whether you wanna opt out. We'll also be double-checking with each crafter who participates that they want to be-merched.

Are you making money off this?

No way. We're able to set the profit margin on Redbubble at zero - so you'll be able to buy the merch at the lowest possible price and we definitely DO NOT make a cut. We'll take screenshots of the process of setting up the store for transparency and accountability.

I don't make digital art, how can my craft be made into merch?

we get it, we're physical crafters ourselves! crafters like us might need to think outside the box a bit on this one

Maybe you might want your Galla-cookie recipe on a magnet?

Maybe you want to make the rooster mug and then put a pic of that on a mug (mug-ception)

The Discord is a great place to ask for help or incubate ideas 💡

[wqsslp]

Spicy (and not really) Kaiser headcanons♡

Nobody makes no shit with this menace to the society who's got eyeliner better than your and mine future so Mama's making some hc's😘

NSFW CONTENT BELOW

Minors dni

Also I don't remember his age but ay, we don't fuck minors yeah? So ofc Aged-up! Kaiser♡

Warnings:

Cussing (mostly me), degrading kink, hair pulling kink (other things aren't that bad ig)

You're in a relationship with him huh? Well be ready for him buying you the most lewd and exposing lingerie because he's in love with how it looks like on your sexy body

I KNOW that this bitch has a degrading kink. He will call you "whore" "cumdump" "fucktoy" and any other disrespectful names that come to his mind whenever you two are fucking

But if you call him any nicknames...Get ready for pussy destruction♡ Y'all seen how he kicks the ball, yea? Mhm. He's gonna unleash the whole power held in his thighs on your puffayy (RIP that pussy AYYY)

Loves it when you pull his hair. Do it and hear him groan.

Prefers you giving head than doing shit himself but if you were good enough, he'll make you visit heaven with his tongue

Probably got lots of bitches. Man's rich. He can afford. 99% chance that you're one of the bitches. But with some privilege🤗

Man doesn't respect personal space. So be ready for him grabbing ya butt cheeks whenever he feels like doing so.

Loves squeezing your cheeks before locking both your lips with kiss

Loves grabbing your face in general.

He'd let you trace his tattoo when he gets out of the shower or is just sitting there with no shirt on

He's a butt person. Big boobs are also preffered over smaller ones but if they at least fit in his hands then it's okay (small boobie girls no offence. I ain't got big ones too)

Doesn't care about seeing you naked or practically naked. You can even tell him that new lingerie is too small for you. But ofc it's "different" way of seeing your body. Something like this would happen:

- bby~

- Mhm? *Literally gives no shit and is scrolling instagram feed*

- The new lingerie you bought...

- cute, right?

- Yeah, but kinda...small. it's uncomfortable and panties are rubbing my inner thighs.

- C'mere. Lemme see. *pulls his free hand out of the pocket making the open-close thing, guiding you to come closer, still looking at the phone*

- You gon touch me there?

- Yeah, what's the problem? I've touched you many times. It's common now.

- But...It's different.

- Shut up girl. Stop being such shy bitch and come over. I'm just gonna check.

He slides his hand to your inner thighs pulling on the panties and making them slap your skin, causing pain. But does he give shit about you being hurt? Not really. He just looks up at your red with frustration face with a sly smile.

Likes cuddling with you. He's a big spoon ofc so you're held in his strong hands with your whole body being squeezed but you don't mind since it's not too powerful.

He also loves laying his head between or on your thighs. Especially at winter. Menace gets cold no matter how warm it is inside your (his) mansion so he needs those always warm "headphones" of yours.

Will publicly grab you by chin and leave a light kiss on your lips because he again felt so

He doesn't really have favorite position but likes anything he can see your face with or might fuck you from the back for those lewd sounds of skin-to-skin. (Don't mind me but fucking from back makes more sound compared to other positions. Not from my experience tho, so fix me if I'm wrong) Doggy style also works for him if you're facing mirror.

Would tease you a lot. A LOT "Aww. My little whore wants me to fuck her needy cunt? Gotta ask real nice and maybe I'll give you what you want~"

Man got nice stamina so he could go for round two, maybe even three.

So well this is the end of it but I might make a part 2 if I come up with more ideas.

I acc had more of them but it's almost 3am (2:55) so My brain doesn't work rn.

Bye bye~

Art not mine. Credits to the artist for this beautiful thing♡

[morallyinept]

Hey Jett!

If you were marooned on an island and you had food, water and shelter. What one other thing would you wish for to be washed up on the shore?

We're assuming Ezra is somewhere about your person already.

Yours with love

El

Lovely El! 🖤 C'mere, gimme a smooch! 😘

You assume correct about Ezra, that man is always in my back passage pocket.

I'd like Dieter to wash up on the shore, please. Alive and kicking. A little water-logged but that's okay, we can dry him out.

I'd like Dieter because, you know... reasons. 😏

I won't be cold, we can all share body heat. Keep warm. I'm thinking practically here, El. Don't look at me like that. Sharing body heat can save your life!

They both seem happy by that turn of events...