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girlygguk · 3 months

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FIRST CLASS | JJK (Teaser)

summary in which you are just another spoiled, bitchy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby who has everyone at Yonsei University eating from the palm of your hand. and jeon jungkook, your spoiled, fuck-boy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby best friend, is always first in line to take a bite.

uni au, rich student!jk x rich student!f.reader

[fluff, angst, smut] childhood bestfriends to lovers, pining, unrequited(?) love, they're likee chaebols okay, tae's sister reader, mega SIMP kook because i literally can't write him any other way, jungkook is a sweet fuckboy (if that exists)

teaser word count: 1.4k (sfw, cursing)

full fic word count: 25k (nsfw)

release date: july-16 @ 2pm (est)

>>> FIRST CLASS IS OUT NOW! <<<

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2 years prior ੈ✩‧₊˚ circa. your 19th birthday. . .

"Get fucked, Jeongguk." The words rip from your throat, venomous and sharp as they slap your best friend's face into a furrowed, exasperated expression.

You yank the jacket tighter around your shoulders as the cold night air whips at your skin, storming down the sidewalk. The urge to rip the jacket—his jacket—off your body is strong, but it's so fucking cold. You may be petty and possibly overreacting a little right now... but you're not stupid.

Jungkook's heavy footsteps trail after you, his calls of your name only pushing you to walk faster. He catches up in no time, your hurried steps no match for his long strides. He tries to gently grab your arm, but you shrug off his touch angrily, spinning around to glare at him. You're about to tell him to fuck off again when he speaks first.

"Come back inside. It's like a fucking blizzard out here; you're going to freeze to death," he says evenly, though frustration laces his words.

"Oh, please," you laugh humorlessly, shaking your head in disbelief. "As if you give a shit if I freeze."

"Don't fucking say—"

"I'm going home. You can tell everyone I'm sick and had to leave. Or don't, I don't fucking care." You turn away and start walking again, his footsteps immediately following.

"You're walking home?" You ignore his question, causing him to huff and run a hand through his hair. "Let me drive you home, please."

You ignore him again, knowing that if there's something Jungkook can't stand more than you yelling at him, it's you not speaking to him.

"Stop doing this. It's your birthday; don't let it end like this—"

"Yes, Jeongguk, it's my birthday," you seethe, whipping back around. "And you brought a random chick none of us even know to my birthday dinner. And you didn't even bother to get me a gift. On. My fucking. Birthday."

"Y/N—"

"Limited edition PlayStation, imported Swedish lacrosse stick, custom painted iPad from your favorite local fucking artist," you list the gifts you've gotten him for his birthday over the years angrily. Jungkook shakes his head, trying to step closer to you, but you hold up your hand to keep the distance.

"Do you even know how much effort I put into the things I get and do for you? And for you to sit there with that... that stupid fucking look on your—God, Jeongguk!" Your voice is on the cusp of being a whine, but you don't care. "Oh, but I'm sure you spent a decent chunk of Daddy's money on Winnie tonight, huh?" You don't care that the Daddy's money statement is also very applicable to you… you're angry.

Jungkook's jaw clenches at your words, and he steps forward, slipping his hand into the pocket of the jacket you're wearing. Before you can snap at him again, he pulls out a small velvet box and holds it out to you.

"What is that?" you demand, your voice still trembling with annoyance.

"Your gift," he says softly, opening the box to reveal a white-gold Cartier diamond necklace. "I was planning to give it to you when we were in private."

You stare at the necklace, your anger momentarily overshadowed by surprise. The diamonds of the pendant sparkle under the streetlights, and you almost let out a moan. Diamonds are your weakness.

"You motherfucker," you groan under your breath, glaring at the necklace in hopes it will dissipate into thin air so you can continue being annoyed at him.

Jungkook steps closer, his voice a whisper. "Everyone was coming with their partners, Y/N. I couldn't come alone."

You sigh, knowing that. Your comment was a cheap shot, considering Jungkook doesn't hang with a girl more than once, so it would be impossible for him to bring someone you already knew. But Winnie was getting on your last nerve, and you saw an opportunity to sneak in a jab, so you took it. Not only was the girl clearing glass after glass of the expensive wine your friends had ordered as if it were water, but she was also not shy about ordering the priciest dishes on the menu. Judging by her tiny red Zara mini-dress, you highly doubt she'll be reaching for her purse at the end of the night.

Your gaze is still locked on the necklace as you take a moment to think. Jungkook hasn't moved either, continuing to hold the box open for you while he scans your face, trying to gauge your reaction.

"It's, um, engraved and shit," he mumbles, his hand not holding the box lifting to run over his jaw nervously. "And I got a chain one… for me too."

Your eyes snap to his, and he swears his heart stops beating. God, you think it's stupid. You hate it. That's okay. He'll just wait until you turn around so he can sprint to the nearest homeless guy and give him the stupid neckl—

"Like matching?" Your eyes soften, and he slowly feels the blood flooding into his heart.

"Yeah, only if you like, want to," he shrugs cutely, and you can't stop the grin from spreading across your lips.

You're close enough to slide your arms around his torso but still not near enough for Jungkook as he tugs you closer, melting into the hug. "Thank you, Gukkie. I love it," you murmur into his chest, and he feels his muscles relax at you finally using his nickname again.

You lift your head from his black fitted Givenchy dress shirt, which smells a little too good, to look up at him. "But why did you say you didn't have anything when everyone gave me their gifts?"

He looks down at the slight pout on your lips, his fingers twitching with the urge to wipe it off your mouth. Instead, he flicks the box closed with a thumb and holds it out to you. "Don't think Jaehyun would've been thrilled with me giving you this," he chuckles. "The dude hates me."

You frown up at him, about to chime in and say that isn't true, but his lips tug into a smirk as if to say he couldn't care less about what your boyfriend thought of him. And honestly, if he were Jaehyun, he'd hate him too.

Jungkook had the necklaces made a little over two months ago, and you and Jaehyun have only been official for one. So, Jungkook's intentions behind the gift weren't malicious, he swears.

If you just so happen to wear the necklace and your boyfriend notices his matching one, which then causes a rift in your relationship, resulting in the two of you breaking up… well, that would just be a nice little coincidence.

"Jae knows you and I are close," you explain with a crease in your brow that he wants to massage until it goes away. "I made it very clear to him when he wanted to get serious, and he understood."

Jungkook nods along to your words even if he doesn't fully believe them. Either Jaehyun is a really good and secure guy, or he's full of grade-A horse shit. If you were his and another dude tried to come along and buy you an eleven-thousand-dollar necklace? Fuck, he'd knock the guy out cold.

You untangle yourself from your best friend and lift the lid of the velvet box still in his grasp. You coo at the pretty diamonds before turning to face away from Jungkook. You gather your hair before swiping it over your shoulder and letting his jacket fall slightly to bare your neck. Jungkook reacts immediately, picking up the necklace before shoving the box in his pocket. His cold fingers brush against you as he carefully fastens the jewelry around your neck.

When he pulls away, you let your hair fall back into place and turn around to face him again. Your smile is soft, eyes twinkling as you look down at the necklace. "It's so pretty, Gukkie. I love it."

You're so pretty. I love you, he thinks.

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spoiled bratty girl and her simpy best friend who knows how to handle her.....GIVE it..

—the full fic is out now! click here to go read <3

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook bts #jungkook fic #jungkook one shot #jungkook oneshot #jungkook drabble #jungkook smut #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff

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chikaras-garden · 4 months

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Batboys as your sugar daddy pt. 2

Don’t you know you’re his?

Pairings: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne x fem!reader

Contains: Sugar daddies. Possessive, controlling men. Power imbalances. They’re all a little toxic. Allusions to daddy kink in Jason’s.

Notes: So quick. Very short. I said “one” and wrote three. I’m a giver. 18+ or you’ll be blocked. I don’t usually do part 2s unless I want to, so please don’t request them—thank you!

DICK GRAYSON 💋

Standing behind you, Dick dangles a breathtakingly dainty pendant in front of your face. You can feel his smile in the way he holds you: hands on your hips, chest puffed up with pride, lips against your temple.

“I got you this,” he says. “You’ll wear it for me, won’t you?”

Mesmerized, you reach out and touch the stone. No, it’s not his name, not even his initial, but a perfectly cut, dark blue-green gemstone nestled in your favorite shade of gold. Dick’s not the flashiest of men—yes, you look at him and instantly know that he’s wealthy, but he has nothing to flaunt because his confidence is as easy as breathing.

But he is possessive. Almost everything you own is blue now—because he thinks it’s funny to be so on-the-nose about a secret only a select few people know. He doesn’t care who else knows that you’re his, no; it’s that you know you’re his, so much so that straying isn’t even a thought in your pretty head.

Why would you, when he spoils you so?

JASON TODD 💋

“Are you going to be a good girl and ride my thigh?”

Jason doesn’t give you the chance to answer. It’s not that you can’t; he know you can. You’re his smart girl, his clever baby. You could solve all the world’s problems if you set your mind to it; you just don’t need to.

Because Jason takes care of things for you. That’s why, even though he asks, it’s while he already has his hands on your hips to drag you, pants and panties off, back and forth over his muscled thigh.

When he brings you close to his chest, he pressed playful, teasing kisses against your mouth; his eyes are alight with mischief, darkly sparkling in a way that invites you to get lost in them. In him.

Sensation climbs and your mind goes hazy, but that’s okay. Jason’s here. He always will be. Always within arm’s reach, always ready to give you his full attention—hands, lips, cock—at the drop of a hat. No matter where you are, you’re his, and he wouldn’t allow it to be any other way.

DAMIAN WAYNE 💋

“Can you behave?” Damian asks in a tone that suggests he knows you can’t.

It’s his fault, really; he sets impossible rules knowing you’ll break them, just because you and he both want to find out what happens. Your lover is brutal, yes, and ruthless—but most importantly, he is fair. He answers every one of your whims before you even say the word.

“I can,” you insist, tilting your head in search of his lips. Behind you, he leans away, holding you in place with a firm grip on your hip and shoulder.

When you whine that you can’t reach him, he tuts, chuckles, and cups your jaw in one hand. “Do you know what the word means?”

Behave, you think. Of course you know what the word means. Everyone does.

But then he murmurs, voice low in your ear and breath warm on your skin, “Should I show you?”

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson smut #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you'#jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood smut #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne smut #🌸— mine.#🌸— dick grayson.#🌸— jason todd.#🌸— damian wayne.

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53v3nfrn5 · 4 months

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Inanga-jade perfume container, which can be worn as a pendant, resembles a flame-like grey-green blossom. It can hold up to 2 tsp (10 ml) of concentrate, and has an 18-carat gold stopper and spatula.

Hand Sculpture, also called a fondling piece, this undulating sculpture is of light green kahurangi jade, which is a highly translucent, flaw-free jade. Its Maori name means 'prized' or jewel', and it was much esteemed by ancient carvers.

#my scans #aesthetic #art #sculpture #perfume #jade #stones #items #objects #stuff #lovecore #craftmanship #flower #fairycore #fairy aesthetic

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donatellawritings · 6 months

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“a’ight, now look directly into this camera and tell us your name, age, and where you’re from,” the cameraman speaks, his gold-ring clad hand carefully adjusting the zoom of the lens on the expensive camera as you sit on the crème colored couch with a cheesy smile, your swollen lips all glossed and glittery.

letting out a nervous giggle, you flip your blown out hair over your shoulder, gently adjusting your barely there skimpy bikini top to cover your hard nipples, “uh, you can call me angel,” you bat your cat-like lashes, before mushing your glossed lips together with a ‘pop’, “m’twenty-one, and i’m from carolina, puerto rico,” you seal with another shaky laugh, swallowing thickly as you steal a quick glance at the man behind the camera, he was a bit older than you, and very handsome — you couldn’t help but be a silly little school girl.

with a feigned-defeated sigh, the cameraman zooms in on your plump breasts, earning a wide grin from you as you playfully shimmy, allowing your perky tits to jiggle, “puerto rico, huh?” he chuckles, licking over his pink lips as you swiftly run your acrylic-nails finger across the pink-heart shaped pendant that dangled from your bellybutton piercing, “so fuckin’ pretty,” he comments, trailing the camera down to your lower half, focusing on the way the plush curves of your thighs and ass swallowed the flimsy fabric of your tiny boy shorts.

with a clearing of his throat, the cameraman brings the camera back up to your pretty little face, “is this y’first time getting fucked on camera, angel?” he asks, his voice heavy in greed as you nod immediately, “fuck — why don’t y’bend over for me and show me that cute little ass of yours,” he beckons, his eyes hanging low as you obediently stand from the couch.

you couldn’t ignore the goosebumps that rose on your skin as you turned away from the camera, before pulling your the thin cloth further up your fat ass cheeks, before bending over with a muffled giggle as you bit down into the chunk of your bottom lip, “look at that,” the cameraman ogled, letting out a throat groan as his warm and calloused hand suddenly cupped your asscheek, gently jiggling the supple skin.

“y’like it?” you questioned, glancing over your shoulder, letting out a surprised gasp as the cameraman’s hand abruptly slapped down onto your ass.

“i love it, angel— m’gonna open you up a bit, yeah?” he informs you, his eyes squinted as he crouches down onto one knee, carefully angling the camera lens at the crease where your puffy pussy and tight asshole met.

your nails slowly dug into the fabric of the couch as the cameraman’s thumb curled into your skin, pulling your asscheek apart, leaving your wet and eager holes exposed to the cold air conditioned environment of the casting room. you failed to hold back a low mewl as the tip of his thumb grazed over your glistening pussy.

“fuuuck, she’s so pretty,” he cooed, jiggling your asscheek once more, before standing firmly on his two feet as he closed the distance between you two, his jean-covered bulged pressed firmly against your ass, “y’gonna be a star, y’know that, angel?” he praises, holding the camera impressively still with one hand as he undoes the button of his jeans with the other, seamlessly slipping his hand under the waistband of his briefs as he releases his firm cock from its confines.

cutely, you wiggled your hips, your pouty lips plagued with a coy smile as your ass brushed against the flushed cameraman’s erect cock. your cute little act quickly came to a halt as he locked his hand around the dip of your waist, pushing his hips closer into you as his dick laid perfectly atop of your ass. a cocky chuckle left the man’s throat as he measured his dick, his mouth watering at how his tip surpassed the top of your ass and rested on your lower back.

your bambi eyes widened at the feeling of his length resting on you, your heart rate increasing as he pulled down your tiny shorts, revealing your bare ass and sweet pussy.

“m’gonna make you a star,” he huffed with a smile, before spitting a glob of warm saliva down the crack of your ass, lowering the camera to catch how it drooled down into your pussy, before tapping his flushed tip against your aching hole.

a squeaky moan left your lips as he slowly pushed into you, your sticky lips parted in pleasure as his flexed arm grips the the couch, your small hand closing over his forearm as the two of you let out satisfied moans. warmed tears were quick to brim around your waterline as he pushed his hips further into yours, the camera now close to your face.

“i love it,” you smiled, your lips stretch into a drunken grin as you pose for the camera, the sounds of the cameraman’s hips slapping into yours now muffled as you focused your fuck-me eyes on the camera.

you knew that you were always meant to be a superstar — no matter what it took, or who you’d meet along the way.

even if it was the eager cameraman who was fucking himself deep inside of you.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader #obx #obx imagine #rafe cameron smut #angel!reader

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sajidhaji · 2 years

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nyrasvoid · 2 months

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A Knight’s Prize pt.2

Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: you overhear a scheming conversation between Otto and Alicent Hightower, leading you to doubt Ser Gwayne’s true intentions.

Warnings: none i think?? if you find any let me know

A/N: this second part was written based on one of the comments of part one

- Word count: ≈3.5k

Part 1

The day after your encounter with Ser Gwayne, you find yourself wandering the corridors of the Red Keep. You wore a teal dress, a perfect blend of Velaryon blue and Hightower green, with gold embroidery down the fabric. A simple gold tiara adorned with tiny pearls rests on your head, while a silver pendant shaped like a dragon, its eyes gleaming with emeralds, hangs around your neck. Your heart flutters with a mix of hope and anxiety as you walk, your thoughts consumed by the image of Ser Gwayne. You can’t help but wonder if your paths will cross today, if perhaps he might seek you out again, this time not as a competitor but as a suitor.

As you turn a corner, the sound of voices pulls you out of your imagination. You recognize them instantly, calculating tone of Lord Otto Hightower and the softer voice of Queen Alicent. You pause, turning around and hiding behind the column where they could not see you.

From your position, you peeked around the corner and saw them standing near the entrance to the library. You feel your pulse quicken as you lean closer, trying your best to hear their conversation.

"Father," Alicent begins, her voice filled with worry. "This match between Gwayne and the Princess... it troubles me."

Otto watches her calmly, his expression unreadable. "And why should it trouble you, my daughter? The girl is a Princess of the realm, of Velaryon and Targaryen blood, and a potential queen one day. A union between our houses would solidify our influence over the Iron Throne."

"But she is a bastard," Alicent argues quietly. "The rumors about her parentage... they are known throughout the court. If Gwayne marries her, it could stain our house, taint the Hightower name with whispers and scandal."

You feel a chill run down your spine, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your dress. The word 'bastard' feels to you like a knife, a painful reminder of the whispers and glances that have haunted you all your life.

Otto remains calm, his tone firm and decisive. "Alicent, you must understand the greater game we are playing. Whether she is a trueborn daughter of Ser Laenor Velaryon or not, she is still the granddaughter of King Viserys and the heir to the throne after Rhaenyra. To have her as a daughter-in-law would elevate our house beyond any stain that her lineage might bear."

Alicent hesitates, her gaze fixated towards the ground. "But what of Gwayne? Does he know of these ambitions? Has he agreed to be a pawn in your game?” she paused and took a deep breath. “If he is to marry a bastard and stain our name, he must at least have a say in this.”

Otto smiles, a cold, calculating smile that sends a shiver down your spine. "Gwayne knows his duty, as we all do. His personal feelings are of little to no matter, compared to the power our house could gain. He will do as he is told."

You feel as though you have been betrayed. Could it be true? Is Ser Gwayne merely a pawn in his father’s game? Have his charming words and tender touches been nothing more than a farce, a way to secure your hand and, with it, the power that comes with your name?

You take a step back, tip-toeing slow and carefully to avoid being discovered. Your thoughts becoming a storm of confusion and hurt. Is this the true nature of the man who seeks your favor? Does he see you as nothing more than a prize to be won?

Just as you’re about to leave, you hear Alicent speak once more, her voice filled with doubt. "But what if she learns of this? What if she refuses him? The Princess has her mother’s spirit and the blood of the dragon. She will not be easily controlled if she feels betrayed."

Otto simply responds - "Then we must ensure she does not learn of it. The Princess is young, and like any young woman, she is vulnerable to the charms of a skilled and handsome knight. Gwayne will win her over with affection."

You finally decide to retreat, wanting to hear no more words of their scheming. As you walk through the halls of the Red Keep, you can’t stop thinking about Gwayne. How could you have been so blind? Could Ser Gwayne be part of this plan, or is he a victim of his father’s ambition too?

The sounds of the tournament grow louder as you approach the field, but you no longer feel the same excitement. You watch as Ser Gwayne enters the field, facing the famous Ser Loras Tyrell. Ser Gwayne’s armor gleams in the sunlight, a shining steel plate adorned with the green fabrics of House Hightower. His cloak, bearing the Hightower sigil. A plume of green feathers decorates his helmet, making him stand out against the other knights. He carries his lance with confidence.

Ser Loras, wearing an armour decorated with the golden roses of House Tyrell, sits on his horse, his gaze fixed on Gwayne with a look of superiority. The two knights lower their lances, and at the signal from the herald, they charge.

The first clash is brutal, their lances meeting with a deafening impact, both knights remain mounted. The crowd roars in excitement, eager for more. Again, they charge, and again their lances crash together, breaking into pieces. But neither man yields.

On the third pass, Ser Loras leans slightly into Gwayne’s track, his lance striking against Gwayne’s shield. With the force of the blow, Ser Gwayne is knocked from his horse. He hits the ground hard, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

You rise from your seat, your heart pounding in your chest as you lean on the gallery’s fence to see what is happening on the field. Rhaenyra and Daemon exchange looks, as they notice your concern. They have not forgotten the disrespects and insults of the Hightowers towards your family, and your growing interest in Ser Gwayne is not something they view favorably.

From behind your seat, Otto Hightower watches with a smirk, his eyes catching the worry on your face. He seems almost pleased by your reaction, his mind already thinking about your betrothal to his son.

As you slowly sit back down, your brother Jacaerys, seated beside you, leans in and whispers, “Do you have any interest in that Hightower cunt?”

You glare at him, your voice low as you reply, “It is of no interest to you, Jace.”

He frowns but says nothing more, his gaze returning to the field as the match continues.

Ser Gwayne, rises from the ground and calls out to Ser Loras, his voice carrying across the field, “Dismount, Ser Loras, and face me with steel if you dare!”

The crowd murmurs in excitement as Ser Loras hesitates for only a moment before dismounting. The two knights draw their swords, the clash of steel ringing across the field.

Ser Loras is fast and agile, but Ser Gwayne fights with a relentless ferocity that soon begins to wear his opponent down. You watch in distress, worrying for Gwayne, your earlier doubts momentarily forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Finally, with a powerful strike, Ser Gwayne forces Ser Loras’s sword from his hand, sending it to the ground. Loras stumbles back and Gwayne presses the tip of his blade against the Tyrell knight’s throat.

“Yield,” Ser Gwayne commands, his voice firm.

Ser Loras meets his gaze for a long moment before finally lowering his head in surrender. “I yield,” he says.

As the day’s events draw to a close, you retreat to the gardens of the Red Keep, seeking solace in the cool evening air.

You reach a secluded corner of the garden, where the scent of blooming roses fills the air, and there, waiting for you, stands Ser Gwayne. His armor has been removed, he smiles as you approach, but the warmth you once felt in his presence is now overshadowed by the coldness in your heart.

"Princess," he says gently, "I've been looking for you. Is something the matter?"

You hesitate, your mind racing with the memory of what you overheard in the library. The scheming of his father and sister, the way they spoke of you as if you were nothing more than a pawn in their game. You swallow hard, unable to meet his gaze fully.

"Nothing is the matter, Ser Gwayne," you reply, your voice cold and distant.

His brow furrows, sensing the change in your behaviour. "We are betrothed now," he says, "Should we not start spending more time together? I want us to know each other, to trust each other."

"Trust?" you echo, your tone filled with sarcasm. "Trust is a rare luxury in a place like this, wouldn’t you agree?"

He looks taken aback by your sharpness but remains calm. "Princess, I understand your apprehension. But we are to be married. We must find common ground, if not for our sake, then for the sake of our houses."

The mention of your marriage—the idea of leaving your family, your mother, your brothers—. You glance away, "It’s not so simple, Ser Gwayne.”

He steps closer, his voice softer. "Should I come to your chambers before the dinner to accompany you? We could speak more... openly."

You nod, though your enthusiasm is lacking. "Very well, Ser Gwayne. If it pleases you."

You return to your chambers, there, you prepare for the dinner. The thought of marriage, the thought of leaving behind everything you’ve ever known to go to Oldtown, fills you with sadness. And then, of course, there’s the matter of children—something that makes you sick to your stomach just thinking about it.

As you finish dressing, you hear a light knock on your door. You take a deep breath and open it to find Ser Gwayne waiting for you, dressed in elegant dark green attire.

"You look beautiful, Princess," he says with a small smile, his eyes tracing the lines of your gown as he extends his arm offering you to hold onto it.

"Thank you, Ser Gwayne," you reply, your voice polite but distant as you accept his arm.

As you walk together through the corridors of the Red Keep, he tries to make conversation. "I’ve been thinking about Oldtown," he begins, his voice calm. "It’s a beautiful city, with a rich history. I think you will grow to love it there, as its Lady."

You nod, but your thoughts are elsewhere. "Perhaps," you say, not wanting to engage in the conversation.

He senses your hesitance and changes the subject. "And what of children?" he asks gently, "I imagine we will have many, strong and healthy. You will be a wonderful mother, I am sure."

The thought of children—of bearing his children—unnerves you. "We shall see, Ser Gwayne" you reply coolly.

As you enter the grand dining hall, you take your seats beside each other. The hall is filled with the noble houses of the realm, and King Viserys announces your betrothal with a smile. There are cheers and applause.

Ser Gwayne turns to you, "Would you honor me with a dance, Princess?" he asks, his voice soft.

But the last thing you want is to dance with him, not after everything. "I’m afraid I do not wish to dance," you reply, turning away from him.

Moments later, Ser Loras approaches and asks for the honor of a dance. Despite your earlier refusal, you accept his offer, rising from your seat and allowing him to lead you to the dance floor. You can feel Ser Gwayne’s eyes on you, a mixture of hurt and confusion in his gaze, but you ignore it.

When the dinner finally ends, Ser Gwayne is there to escort you back to your chambers. The walk is silent, tension in the air. As you reach the door, he stops, his hand gently grabbing yours.

"Princess," he begins, his voice low and strained, "why have you been so distant with me? And why did you dance with another when I asked you first?"

You pull your hand away, feeling the anger within you begin to boil. "I am not distant," you say, though the lie is evident in your voice.

He steps closer, his eyes searching yours. "We should not start our marriage based on lies, Princess. If something is troubling you, tell me. We are to be husband and wife. We must trust each other."

The pressure of his words, finally breaks you. "You want to know what’s wrong, Ser Gwayne?" you snap. "I overheard your father and sister speaking in the library. They spoke of using me, of marrying me off to you to gain power, to strengthen their hold on the realm. How can I trust anything you say?"

Ser Gwayne’s eyes widen in shock. "I had no idea," he says, "I swear to you, Princess, I was not aware of any of this. My feelings for you—my desire to marry you—are my own, not theirs. You must believe me."

You turn away, tears threatening to spill over. "How can I? How can I believe anything when everyone around me is filled with ambition?"

He reaches out, gently turning you back to face him. "Because I will prove it to you," he vows. "I will confront my father and sister. I will not allow them to manipulate us, to use you as a tool for their own gain. I promise you that, Princess."

You stare at him, a storm of emotions going through your mind. Without thinking, you reach up, grabbing his face in your hands. The softness of his skin under your fingers sends a shiver down your spine, leaning in to press your lips against his.

The kiss is desperate, filled with all the confusion you’ve been holding back. His lips are warm and firm against yours, and for a moment, you lose yourself in the sensation. His hands come up to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss.

When you finally pull away, your breathing is uneven, your heart pounding in your chest. He looks at you, his hands still resting on your waist.

"We must wait," he says gently, his voice tinged with both desire and restraint. "I do not wish to dishonor you, Princess. We should save this for our wedding night, as it should be." He takes your hand, lifting it to his lips and placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

You nod, unable to say anything, but before you can even try to speak, Ser Gwayne steps back, “Goodnight, my lady," he murmurs, "I will see you tomorrow."

He turns and walks away, leaving you standing at the doors of your chambers, your heart pounding in your chest.

Slowly, you retreat into your chambers, closing the door behind you. You move toward the vanity, removing the silver pendant from your neck and placing it carefully on the table. Your hands are trembling. You slip out of your dress, replacing it with a simple nightgown. As you slide into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin, your thoughts race.

You try to push the events of the evening from your mind, but it’s impossible. Ser Gwayne’s words echo through your mind, his touch still lingering on your skin. He seemed sincere.

Your thoughts go to the future, to what it means to be Lady of Oldtown, to be married to a man whose family you cannot fully trust. The idea of leaving your mother and brothers fills you with a deep sadness. Perhaps, despite everything, Ser Gwayne might be different. He could be a good husband, a good father. He could make this marriage something more than just a political arrangement.

Pt 3???

#gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne fanfic #gwayne x you #gwayne hightower fanfic #ser gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne x reader #gwayne imagine #gwayne hightower #hotd x reader #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2

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littlebearbun · 1 month

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Stanley Pines NSFW Alphabet

(Written for myself. lmao)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tbh I think this depends. If it's with a one night stand, he's pretty “hit it and sleep” or he goes to the Stanmobile to sleep if they're being clingy or he's spooked. A quick “thanks, toots” and a slap on the ass and he's out. If he's with someone he cares about, he's very clingy. Will give them a sip of his Pitt from the side table and lots of kisses and his hands are everywhere. Does not care about sweat or wiping anything down. Wants to be big spoon to sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: His hands/arms. Knows he's muscley and knows his hands are huge. Also likes his crooked grin cause it's very different from Ford’s smile. Theirs: loves a good pair of thick thighs. Tbh I don't see him disliking any part of his partner but he loves them “with meat on their bones” as he says. More to grab and squish. (When they've been together for a while, will say he adores their eyes, too, but especially when they're looking at him.)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Comes a lot and it's pretty thick. Doesn't taste bad but not good either (his diet isn't great) Would prefer to come inside but is fine with it on their face/chest/stomach/ass/etc. He's not picky.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I could see him keeping panties in his pocket and randomly touching them or holding them against his face.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's…experienced in one night stands. Knows what he's doing but only when it's rough/fast/etc. If it's slow and sweet he gets flustered and is easier to overwhelm.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Sitting against the headboard with them in his lap, their back to his chest, slow deep fuckin or using his fingers. Will whisper naughty things in their ear and watch his hand between their legs. Would never forget the image of his lover wearing his gold chain, riding him, the pendant swinging with their movements.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Once he's comfy, he can be both. I can see him teasing and picking lil fights and trying to make them laugh, but I could also see him just wanting their attention focused. Is very “keep your eyes on me”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Grey hairs around the base. Probably doesn't care about trimming it unless his partner asks him to, and will probably make a grumbly comment about the effort. He does not care if his partner shaves.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Again, depends if it's a one night stand or not. If it is, it's not romantic at all. He's there for one thing only, no strings attached. If it isn't, he's absolutely worshipful. Kisses stretch marks, moles, scars. Nuzzles everywhere he can get to tickle with his stubble. Calls them every pet name in the book. Says how lucky he is to have landed someone like them.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Probably doesn't do it much after he takes over the Mystery Shack, reminds him of how lonely he is. When he was drifting, he does it to forget but only if he can't find a willing partner to spend the night with instead. After he gets Ford back and has a partner, he would do it but only to a, tease his partner or b, cope with them being gone for a few days. Prefers them on the phone for it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Definitely into edging/overstimulation. Stealth collars, makes his chest puff up in pride.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His office or in front of a mirror. Or his armchair. Or his car. He has a lot of favorites, sue him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

For most of his life, he's only in it for himself. Likes when his partners beg and make him feel important. Later, when with someone for a while, domestic shit gets him. They brought him a Pitt and kissed his cheek and he's hard???? Still really likes feeling like the “big man of the house” tho.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Doesn't like handcuffs on himself, they remind him of prison. Doesn't like if he can't see/hear/move his hands. Will never involve another in the bedroom. His self esteem is too low for that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers to receive I think. Again, makes him feel in control. Much rather use his hands on his partner so he can look at their face easier and see their expressions.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Generally rougher for sure. Sensual is a once in a while thing if he needs reassurance.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Often. Hell yes. He loves em. Wants to see how quickly he can get them off on a back closet, or his office, or in the shower. Power trip.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Experimenting sure, I could see him trying a lot. Risks, depends. Doesn't want the twins to see. Doesn't want Ford to see. Doesn't want anyone to see, really.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He’s good for one round himself, but he's more than willing to use his mouth or hands until his partner is satisfied. Doesn't mind if that takes a while. Would absolutely lay in bed all lazily while fingering them after he's finished.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Some of them?? More into using them on a partner than himself. Would love collars, nipple clamps, maybe a flog. Would be strangely intrigued if they had different kinds of dildos. (What shape is that?? Let me watch you try it)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Merciless tease. Whispers naughty shit all day. “I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you, babe, say it again? Louder?” Touches everywhere but where they want most.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He grunts and groans a lot. Will not shut up, talks for the entire time.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If you say he's a “good man” it breaks him. He still has a hard time remembering some things sometimes (can wake up missing pieces). Sometimes the bad things come back first and he needs kind words and to be reminded he's safe

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Huge arms, very very strong. Prominent gut, obviously. His legs are skinnier than the rest of him. Very hairy. Brand on his back and maybe a few tattoos from his gang days, but nothing too serious.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Once he has a partner he loves? It's high. Wants them constantly, even if it's just their body near his. When he was drifting, I think it was only if he wanted a place to sleep or was really lonely. Sometimes he felt worse after.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He likes the after sex cuddles, so he stays up a bit. Will tease them about the sex in a rough, quiet voice.

#stanley pines x reader #stan pines x reader #gravity falls #stan pines #stanley pines #grunkle stan #bear writes

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ilsanslut · 10 months

Text

꒷♡꒷ THE DUKE'S PET!

♰ featuring: wriothesley. [genshin impact]

sypnosis: what you get from being wriothesley’s pretty puppy. content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut mentons. PUPPY-HYBRID!READER. GENDER NEUTRAL!READER. spanking. shoe-humping mentions. cock-warming. orgasm denial. dacryphilia. overstimulation. obvious pet-play themes. name calling/degradation. punishments. tummy bulging. sharing mentions (clorinde + neuvillette). ꒷꒦

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S PET INCLUDES being given to him by none other than the iudex of fontaine himself, neuvillette, as a “gift” of sorts. more so, you were a prisoner who personally denied your trial since you knew you were guilty, so neuvillette thought of a fitting place for you instead. he knew that wriothesley wanted a pet to keep him company while within the walls of the fortress of meropide, but he refrained due to it being cruel to keep an animal somewhere in which they could never see the sun. however, a puppy-human hybrid should suffice well enough, right?

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S PET INCLUDES him not knowing what the fuck to do with you once he first got you. he understood how to take care of a dog well enough, but you were mostly human and had greater intelligence than that of a dog (most of the time). he seemed a little put-off by you at first, tensing up when you came to him for pets and affection, picking you up by the armpits (even if you were taller than him) and sitting you down on the couch of his office when you tried to smother kisses all over his face, pulling you by the back of your shirt while hissing a quick “quit it” every time you growled at someone who entered his office—even his guards, and even those times when you tried to mark his office as your territory . . .

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S PET INCLUDES him taking his sweet time to warm up to you, but once he grew comfortable with your presence, you became the most spoiled pup around. he got you your own pretty collar, but of course, in his own aesthetic. a thick, studded black strap with ruby gems and a silver loop in the center connecting to a crimson pendant ringed in silver, with his initials engraved on the back. he bought you your own toys (even though you were more inclined to gnaw your sharp canines on the steel of his boots), and he even purchased a separate couch for you in his office for your afternoon naps with your name engraved on the gold that lined the backrest.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S PET INCLUDES going to the surface world with him any time he has a particular errand to run or just when he has free time. (he most definitely does that thing where he says a simple phrase like “outside?” or “walkies?” and has to restrain himself from cackling as he watches you go beserk in your own excitement.) hours are spent in the city of fontaine shopping for new items for you, such as clothes, toys, collars, etc. your days typically end with him allowing you to expend the rest of your energy chasing squirrels or birds in the fontainian wilderness until you eventually tucker yourself out and he carries you back to the fortress.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S PET INCLUDES being his little (or big) lap dog whenever he’s sitting in his office. whether he’s in the middle of signing off on a boatload of documents or talking with someone who entered his office, you’d shuffle your way into his folded arms and perch yourself on his lap, nuzzling yourself against his chest. he was never one to deny you affection (unless you were bad) and would always indulge in praising you whenever he deemed fit. scratches behind your ears, on your belly, gentle kisses to the forehead—you name it! wriothesley would give it all to you since he just couldn’t say no to you. that is, until he was forced to.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S PET INCLUDES him forgetting that while you are human, you still have the high-energy canine instincts of whatever breed you’re mixed with. that means you often get yourself into trouble more than you’d like. dashing over to others to steal their food at the coupon cafeteria because it smelled soo yummy, growling and picking fights with either the inmates or the guards who were simply minding their business, chewing on wriothesley’s boots, bookshelf, and the wood of his desk because you were bored, humping his leg or whatever you could get your needy parts on whenever your heat rolls around, and finally, his last straw, you tearing up the important documents and registration papers of the inmates because you were fed up with his silent treatment punishment.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S PET INCLUDES includes cowering and whining in fear when you see him towering over you, a steely glare in his eyes, and a deep scowl on his face as his chest rises and falls heavily from this thoroughly wasted patience. his fists would clench so tightly by his sides that you could hear them grinding against the leather of his gloves and the metal of his rings. you would give him your best puppy eyes and cutest whimpers to try and appease his anger, but it was futile. then he would utter the words that always sent a chill down your spine.

“bedroom, now.”

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES you shaking your head at him and whimpering out a ‘no’ when he orders you to his quarters. at first, he’s dumbfounded—stunned that you would even dare to disobey him when he had given you a clear, firm order—and then he’s laughing. it’s dry and humorless, and it strikes fear in the depths of your trembling little being. however, before you could react, his hand is threading itself non-too-kindly into your locks and dragging you along the steel floors of his office until you’re in your shared bedroom.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES knowing that he’s not a fan of verbal reprimanding. when he needed to correct your behavior, he was always physical. he wastes no time sitting on the edge of the bed and discarding whatever bottoms you were wearing before slinging you over his lap and popping a series of quick swats onto your ass cheeks, ringed-fingers and all. if you dared to try and use your fluffy tail to negate his hits, he was snatching it in a firm grip at the base and snarling out a bone-chilling “behave” before he would rain down more spanks onto your reddening cheeks until you’re a sniffling mess in his lap.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES you being unable to hide the arousal brewing from your nethers from being punished on wriothesley’s lap, accidentally giving yourself away when you shift on his lap, and the lewd squelch of your arousal squishing from your sex and his thigh is picked up by his stupidly good hearing.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES feeling your nethers throbbing when he utters out a “oh?” in that breathy growl that makes your head spin. “whats this?” he would inquire as he scoops up the milky fluid with two of his digits, not waiting for your pitiful answer as he uses the liquid as lube to stroke your sex with a teasing touch. “getting off on being punished?” he continues through your whimpers as your legs flail behind you from his increasing pace. “what a filthy mutt you are.”

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES being edged until the depths of the sea grew dark from the long set sun and illuminated from the moon hanging high in the sky. you’d be brought to the brink of your orgasm time and time again; however, every time you were about to reach your high, wriothesley would pull away, mocking your frustrated whines and begging whimpers with a faux pout of his own. “aww, my poor baby.” he would pout in an insincere tone, using his drenched fingers to wipe the tears streaming down your cheeks. “you wanna cum, don’t you?” he’d ask, with his free hand gently stroking your sensitive sex. you would nod, babbling pleas and helpless cries for him to ‘please, please, let you cum because you’ll be a good pup for him’, only for him to grin cruelly down at you and go, “if you wanted to be good for me, you would’ve been so from the beginning. crazy how that works, hm?”

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES when he finally does let you cum, he doesn’t let you stop. you’re gifted orgasm after orgasm until the sheets are ruined with your release, your poor body is trembling uncontrollably, your nethers are throbbing, and even the slightest breeze makes you wail from the overstimulation. you cry and cry and plead for him to be gentler with you, to please give you a break to let you catch your breath, but he only cackles at your misfortune and goes, “this is what you wanted, isn’t it? to make a mess like the filthy pup you are? so then take it, Y/N.”

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES always being gifted with the best aftercare, no matter how tired wriothesley might be. he’ll whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he gently massages your sore limbs and nethers, praising you for being such a good pup for him. moreover, he’ll even state that he’s no longer mad at you just to see your pretty ears perk up and your fluffy tail wag. even when he’s pushed past the point of exhaustion, he’ll stagger into the bathroom, run a warm bath for the two of you, and carry your quivering body into the soothing waters. before he joins you, he always discards the messy sheets and replaces them with new ones, but not before letting them run in the dryer for a few minutes so that they’re nice and toasty for you.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES being his number one stress reliever whenever he needs to relieve some tension. you could be sitting docilely on the couch he brought you by yourself in his office, and he could just scoot his chair back while tossing his head back with a mighty sigh, and you would already know what to do. you’d prance over to him, and he would remove whatever lower garments you were wearing and dive right into you, feasting on you in your entirety until he was thoroughly relieved. if he was having a particularly rough day, he would call your name in a gruff tone and pat his lap to call you over. he would have you sit on his lap with his cock nestled deep in your walls, squeezing him so, so tightly as he tries to finish his paperwork, but he never can. nine times out of ten, it always ends with him tossing his paperwork aside, picking you up, and ravishing you right then and there on his desk.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES the amount of times guards and inmates have had to stutter over their words as they try to talk to or give reports to the duke, however, becoming thoroughly distracted by the sight of your pretty mouth swallowing inch after inch of wriothesley’s cock beneath his desk since you couldn't 'shut the fuck up and stop growling’ at the poor men and women who were just trying to do their jobs.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES servicing wriothesley’s friends whenever they visit the fortress. clorinde attaching a leather leash to your collar as she perches herself on the edge of wriothesley’s desk, using the lead to pull your kneeling form close to her pretty folds to eat her out while she makes your head dizzy as she praises and degrades you simultaneously. “what a well-trained pooch you have here, duke . . . such a pathetic, needy thing they are. i might just have to borrow them for myself sometime.” to which wriothesley, who was watching from over her shoulder with a possessive and lustful gaze in his eye, just shakes his head as he observes your lithe, sloppy, and greedy tongue eagerly lapping at the duelist’s glimmering pearl while your tail wags incessantly behind you. “nah, not a chance. they’re mine, clorinde.”

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES even letting neuvillette in on the fun every once in a while. naturally, he brought you along for the ride when he had to personally meet with the iudex to discuss some business matters. neuvillette was amazed at how well his plan had worked when he saw how well-behaved and obedient you were, especially considering how you had been at first, when he had to hold you at arm's length away from him by your scruff to prevent your pointy puppy teeth from gnawing into his arms. he too would indulge in you by clearing his desk of all paperwork and fucking you right then and there on top of the expensive oak. when he told you to bark, you would. when he told you to sit on his cock, you would ride him within an inch of his sovereign life. when he told you to cum, you would not hesitate to gush all over him and yourself, effectively making a mess of both of your sweaty bodies. “such an obedient little thing. i am almost saddened that i gifted you to wriothesley and did not keep such a pretty puppy for myself.” he would growl, his slitted pupils constricting to pinpoints as they observed the way his two draconic cocks bulged your tummy.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S CHERISHED PET INCLUDES living out the rest of your days by his side as arguably the most spoiled and loved pup in the entirety of teyvat. you became his light in the darkness—his salvation from the perpetual state of solemn loneliness that he had isolated himself in, while he became your salvation in a surprisingly cruel world. you have never felt safer or more secure in your life than you did when you were with him. when he held you tenderly and whispered affirmations into your fluffy ears, you felt more loved than you had ever felt before. all in all, he was your second half, and you were his, and he’d be damned if he let anything change that any time soon.

#tw: hybrids #genshin impact #genshin #genshin smut #wriothesley #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley imagines #genshin wriothesley #genshin headcanons #genshin impact smut #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #wriothesley headcanons #vampiiebitez

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