#she pulls him back from the brink of insanity it's .....

[kayharrisons]

Will you go, lassie, go? [Remmick x fem!Reader] [18+] [1 of 11]

Remmick has been drifting for a decade now, aimlessly passing from one town to the next as he hunts and feeds and fucks and-

And. And. And.

One could go mad after a while with all those ands.

Loneliness threatens to consume him, to pull him right over the brink and into insanity.

Until, that is, he hears a voice sweeter than a nightingale's and with a haunting, melodic pain that buries itself deep in his chest and takes root there.

Until, that is, he meets you.

A/N: hey guys!! My first attempt at a Sinners fic o o p I LOVED the movie sm and Remmick was just 😩 😩 Jack O'Connell the man that you are fr!! Anyway, idk if I'll write a LOT for Sinners, my brain rot is still very much Romulus focused BUT HEY have this lil two shot for now! Scottish Reader x Remmick oh no oh DEAAAAAAR!!! I'm not a native Gaelic speaker by any means (I know a couple basic words lol), so any future Gaelic sentences will be in italics! This fic is set some time in the 20s before Sinners! Next chapter will be up soon hopefully!! Apologies if there's any mistakes we rock and roll buckaroo over here ✌️

Series warnings: younger woman (19-21) x older man (literal vampire), blood, biting, sexual acts, mentions of immigration and racist/xenophobic attitudes towards Scottish and Irish communities, colonisation mentions (Ireland in Remmick's past), manipulative Remmick, naive Reader, Remmick was at one point Jack the Ripper 💀

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Time.

It's a funny thing. Especially to someone like him, to someone with this affliction.

It both passes in the blink of an eye and goes by slower than those snails that used to infest his mother's garden when he was a boy. He can't remember her face much, but he remembers how she used to rant and rave over the little creatures as they ruined vegetables and plants she'd oh so painstakingly grown.

He's had many families over the centuries. Many mothers, many brothers, sisters.

The faces blend, sometimes, when you're as old as he.

His birth mother had eyes like his, he thinks. She had his laugh.

He recalls having been told, frequently, that he takes after his father.

He wonders if that was before or after his skull was cleaved in two. He can't recall his father's face before it was split in half like a log for the fire.

Fire. Warmth.

He misses that.

Misses sitting with his brothers and sisters around the hearth as their mother hummed lullabies in their native tongue. Síthmaith had been his favourite of the bunch, his precious sister only nine when her throat had been cut to the bone.

Remmick had been the oldest of the bunch.

He'd failed them, and this, he thinks, is retribution.

He's never done well without people to care for, could never cope knowing people were sad. His mother used to smile and call him her mo mhuirnin whenever she'd catch him being kind.

The last time in his human life that he'd been kind, he had invited a sobbing stranger inside of his home, a frail woman begging for shelter against Protestant brutes, could he please help her?

The children hadn't survived the turning. They never did, according to the woman.

His mother had taken one look at her dead children and screamed an almighty roar of agony before walking out into the sunlight.

Remmick can't remember his mother's voice anymore, but he remembers that scream.

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The centuries passed. He spent it learning, teaching himself.

He occupied himself with hobbies, with history, and eventually with song.

That was the one thing he'd never allowed himself to forget over the years. The act of putting pen to paper and letting pain spill out as ink, of taking the time to sit back and think of melodies, of chords and notes.

He loves to sing.

Sometimes, he can still hear his mother when he sings, can hear his siblings laughter around the fire.

There is rarely anyone around to hear him, however.

New families come and go; not everyone is suited to this way of life, a lot lack survival instinct he's found. Lovers are there for an hour or two or three, the ones that linger end up drained upon the bed, his songs still lingering in their dead ears.

Perhaps one time he'd been overzealous in Whitechapel, had earned himself a nasty moniker and had had to hastily retreat to the countryside for a few years all while the public pondered over the identity of this Ripper fellow.

Animal blood wasn't quite the same as a human's, it must be said.

It's rather like drinking tar, he's come to find. Unpleasant and thick down his throat. Only worth doing in a pinch.

He hasn't met anyone else who's even tried it.

The others he'd been with on the ship, the ones who had burnt brighter than the sun, had rolled their eyes at him for that admission.

Lions were not expected to eat plants and nothing more, so why should they?

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He hasn't eaten in weeks.

He could. Easily. Easy pickings don't even begin to describe half of the people he's come across as he wanders the earth.

New York had been ripe with bodies, and he'd indulged himself more than necessary during the ten years he had spent there.

But his legs were leading him south. And who was he to go against them? Taken him this far, hadn't they?

He is curious to see the rest of the continent, to meet people, hear stories, to rebuild that which he's lost time and time again.

He can help people, like he used to, he can give them a family, can take all their petty human squabbles and differences and turn it into something good, can't he?

He hums to himself, a melody he has hazy memories of his mother singing. The words are lost to him now, taken from him by time, but he recalls the melody, at least.

Over and over, he hums, his fingers brushing over brick and stone and cold hard suburbia, before eventually his fingers run over trees and leaves and life itself.

He never did like cities much.

Remmick hums into the dimming light of the night, with no expectations of a response, an answer, of divine intervention.

He gets one anyway.

A little miracle in its own right.

"-the blooming heather, will ye go, lassie, go?"

His blood ignites in his veins just as brightly and fiery as it had the day he'd been turned into this.

If he had a pulse, he is sure it would be racing in his cold dead chest. If he could blush, he's sure the tips of his ears would be a burning red.

Your voice creeps through the trees like that of a fine mist, and it settles over him like dew on grass during a summer's morning. Refreshing, soothing, anchoring.

When was the last time he had felt anchored?

Voices, he's found, have a way of carrying stories, of harbouring emotions in a way that sometimes merely speaking doesn't even begin to encompass.

Sadness, anger, love, lust, loss-

It all sounded beautiful, in song.

Your voice reaches out like that of a beautiful plant, wraps around his soul like vines in the forest, takes root upon his very being like that of the strongest of trees.

Nature personified.

His pace quickens, the damp grass and dirt cliging to his bare feet, his hair sticking to his forehead.

He only wishes he was more presentable for you. Remmick is far from vain, but he's certain he's about to waltz into the den of perfection, an alter of beauty that would put Aphrodite herself to shame.

And he finds it.

Your back is to him, your hair is down loose around your shoulders. Your blouse is a few sizes too big and clings to your shoulders, your waist cinched by your skirt. You sway softly, like that of a flower in the breeze. Your fingers move effortlessly over the strings of your guitar, your voice having lowered to that of an airy hum.

He damn near almost collapses at the sight before him. Of such beauty here before him, untouched by the world outside of this forest. He's not a religious man, hasn't been in centuries, but Remmick is struck by the urge to collapse by your feet and cling to your skirts as if you were a Saint of utmost divinity, one he would swear his life and soul to.

Such natural, effortless beauty, and he hasn't even seen your face yet. Persephone can weep for all he cares.

A branch snaps beneath his feet, and your hair whips your face as you whirl around to face him.

Oh.

Oh.

Remmick staggers back a step, unusual for someone with supernatural grace on their side.

You're more radiant than a sunrise on a winter's day, more beautiful than poetry itself.

He could weep in your presence.

"Can I help you, sir?" you ask, pausing your guitar strumming and setting the instrument aside, leaning it against the tree beside you.

Your accent isn't from here. Scottish, the highlands, he thinks. He smiles at the sound, at the knowledge that he won't have to use that goddamn ridiculous Yank accent that helps him blend in.

"Aye, lass'," he nods, hands in his pockets as he steps closer. You watch him with a furrowed brow, with complete and utter confusion across your radiant face.

He stops short of you, leaning back against a tree, crossing his legs at the ankles as he studies you.

His eyes...

You straighten a hairs breadth, the same way one does when they spy a wolf in the distance, when you know a predator is watching you.

Remmick merely hums, unbothered at your reaction, even as his eyes gleam unnaturally in the darkness of the night.

"You can help me somethin' fierce, darlin'."

You smile, a touch uncertainly, your head cocked as you patiently wait for him to explain whatever it is he needs help with.

Remmick can only smile.

[megapteraurelia]

roommates!osasuna who, before they've agreed to share you, hear you in your room at night, soft gasps, breathy moans and their names escaping your lips as you bring yourself to the brink of insanity, and fuck, now neither of them can sleep.

suna finds himself in osamu's room not long after, his mouth full with cock. one hand of his leisurely drags across his own length, pumping himself against the scratchy sheets of osamu's that he's told him to change countless of times. now, though, it's long past the point of caring when he spills all over it, paints his name across the soft grey; osamu's neck with that one thick vein on display as his hand gripped suna's hair tightly.

suna ends up swallowing all of it.

roommates!osasuna who have incredibly soft spots that you exploit, always. osamu loves when you run your fingers through his hair, and he melts, his eyes half-lidded as they gaze at you with an intensity that you've only known him have when he concentrates on his projects, coming up with different recipes. his cheek weighs heavier in your hand as he sinks into it, and his mouth presses small little kisses on the palm of your hand.

suna is a hair width away from actually purring when you tug on his earrings, gently, just playing with them when you're cuddling. but when you tug, he freezes and his lips part slightly, a pretty little blush unfurling on his skin. his eyelashes flutter and even though he denies it, he leans into your touch a little more.

roommates!osasuna who have a group chat with you, and the things being sent there range from innocent to suggestive to downright pornographic.

day 1

has osamu send a picture of food he's cooked, telling you to come home hungry. (sometimes, though, he likes to push it a little, because then he'll send another text: "if yer good, ya get fed. if yer better, you get bent over the counter first.")

day 2

has suna send a blurry video, half naked, pulling his shorts down, revealing more and more of his dick until it cuts off right before it could spring free, captioned: "your spot's cold."

day 3

has both of them argue over who was able to please you better last night:

sunarin, "trust me, she was already shaking when i kissed her. you literally just got to the finish line."

osamu, "i'd say that too if i were you. doesn't count when i'm the one doin' all the work, huh?"

sunarin, "yeah, well, she moaned my name louder than yours."

osamu, "ya wanna weigh in, sweetheart? who made you cum harder?"

sunarin, "that's a trap, baby. don't answer that."

you shut up their pissing contest with an incoming video call and when they both accepted it, they were met with fingers deep in your glistening pussy, voice already shot from how loud you were moaning. osamu exits the call right away only to enter it again a couple minutes later, and you recognise the change of location — he's moved into the storeroom of onigiri miya, his dark cap pulled deep over his eyes, but you could see the way his teeth dug into the pillow of his lower lip, slick noises echoing through your phone as he fucks his fist.

suna's long-gone, having propped up his phone against his gym bag, head rolled back as he lets spit dribble onto his angry dick, palming himself as it sat pretty over his shorts in the empty locker room. you heard faint knocking and complaints coming through from his side, but you were sure he's locked the door on purpose, and each second, that he's not letting his teammates in, is another second that he's hastily pumping himself.

day 4

has suna sending a picture of you passed out on the couch in osamu's hoodie, "look at baby." and osamu replying with "tell 'er she's cute when she drools. also, seaweed chips?"

day 5

has osamu saving all the little voice notes you send of you laughing, of you talking about your day, and the camera roll is full with suna's cute as shit pictures of you and 'samu.

day 6

has you cry about work and how stressful it is, and osamu's the one who ends up texting you throughout it, sending you messages in quick succession, as if he hasn't a whole restaurant to run, as if he has all the time in the world to focus on you and you only.

hey. breathe f'me a sec, alright? just stop everythin' and take one good deep breath. yer doin' your best and i'm proud of you for pushin' through it. but ya don't gotta carry it all on yer own, sweetheart you come home to us tonight, yeah? we'll take care of ya. you don't hafta be strong. bein' with you makes my day easier so let me do the same f'you.

suna's not the type to text a lot when it's sentimental, but he sends you a heart, and when you come home, your favourite food's already made, a hot bath run and your favourite hoodie of suna's draped on your bed, warm from the dryer, smelling like his cologne. and when you crawl in between both of them, his fingers are right there to travel over your body in a way that grounds you, that tells you this is where you belong, this is where you are loved and doted on and safe.

day 7

has them try to annoy you, rating your reactions like it's a game on a scale from one to ten as you sit amongst friends, enduring their suggestive comments and ignoring the way they had you right in their line of sight whenever you glance down before immediately turning the phone around, a blush burning on your cheeks.

you, "can we not do this tonight. please."

osamu, "do what?"

sunarin, "she's already cracking. that's a 4/10 reaction chat"

when you glance up from your phone, rolling your eyes, osamu's pretending to sip his drink, but suna doesn't even care, staring right at you with that lazy look in his eyes, one eyebrow cocked.

another notification comes through a couple of minutes later and when you open it, you choke a little on your spit, awkwardly laughing off the concern of a friend only to look at the picture again. it's a photo from under the table, osamu's hand resting on his thigh, the zipper of his pants pulled down slightly, giving the bulge slightly more room to breathe.

the caption? "thinkin' 'bout where yer mouth should be right now."

sunarin's text isn't far behind, "oh, that face. that's a solid 6.5"

osamu, "mhmm, i give it a 7. she did this cute lip biting thing."

the next ordeal you go through is when suna sends a video half an hour later, and it's just his hand under the table as his fingers imitate the movement he always fucks you with, digits scissoring and stretching out inside an invisible hole as his thumb rubs nothing but thin air. the implication has your breath hitching, your thighs tingling as you pressed them together, any reprieve, oh god.

sunarin, "8/10, she's shifting in her seat."

and osamu takes the cake, he really does, because there's an entire paragraph sitting right before you, and arousal is a familiar concept etched in your very soul as you read it, face growing hotter and hotter, heart stuttering in tandem with the rustling in your ear from how fast your blood seems to run.

gonna make that pretty little face again when we bend ya over the kitchen table later? arms pulled behind yer back, tits all over the counter. bet yer gonna cry and sob for one of us to hurry up and fuck ya already. but ya know us, sweetheart, don'tcha? we'll take our time, i wanna see ya squirm against rin's mouth be good at dinner, we can be as nasty as ya want later

you really do end up hiding your face in your hands.

a message of sunarin coming through, "9.5/10. almost there"

and almost there, you are later once the door slammed shut behind you and their hands are all over you, teeth clinking against each other in a heated kiss. you get shoved forward until your hands hit the kitchen table, tits pressed against the mahogany just like promised, breath ragged as suna tugs your pants down like a dehydrated madman searching for water.

his teeth find your wet panties, stuck to your pussy lips like a second skin and he sucks the juice out with a groan, fingers keeping your thighs spread and steady. osamu's hand is dragging across his length, his cock heavy as it rest in between your ass cheeks, tip leaking, forming a little puddle in the dip of your back.

"been dyin' to get my hands on you all night."

you taste the wood as you pant against it, hands trying to catch even a little bit of osamu, but his grip is relentless, tight on your wrists. he tuts with his tongue, the click close to your ear as he smothers you with his weight, one leg of his pushing yours further out.

"be good for rin, sweetheart, won't ya?"

how were you supposed to be good for anything when suna's mouth latches onto your clit like that? when his jaw moves hard and fast as it suckles on the swollen nub, fingers teasing the quivering hole, dipping into your heat easily, "god, you're so fucking perfect," — your legs buckling, tears pricking at your lash line, biting your lip to keep from crying out, caught between the sting of his force and the pleasure burning through your veins.

how were you supposed to be good for anything when osamu lines up behind you, hard and ready? his head nudges against suna's fingers and really, suna cannot resist, fingers pulling out to tug on osamu's dick, using your slick to coat him as he found the sensitive vein on the underside easily, thumb rubbing the reddened tip.

"ngh, sunarin, yer such, ah, a bastard."

suna spoke against your pussy, and the vibrations have you push against his mouth, "yeah, but 'samu, don't forget that i can feel you throbbing in my hand. so am i a bastard or are you moaning for me?"

osamu's rubbing against your folds, tip catching suna's mouth every so often, and how does that leave you, hm? begging on top of the table, legs trembling, only kept upright because suna likes having you sit above him, stray tears stealing themselves on the wood, as your ass pushes back against osamu's backside.

"please, p-please, fu-hah-fuck me," you mewl, over and over until at least one of them has mercy and urges osamu's dick to finally fill you. his groan when he realises how easy he slips into you is deep and loud, reverberating against you so deliciously. you're so wet, he's bottoming out before he could even register the movement of his hips, and god, the sound of his balls slapping against your drooling pussy lips is heavy, suna's wet noises of sucking on your clit even worse.

really — how were you supposed to be good for anything?

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

TAGLIST | @sodaneko @takes1 @classicalelephant @pomigranit @sugacor3 @boktuoafterdark

sorry not sorry

[yallternitive]

Backstabber PT. 2

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis: Bucky and Yelena kiss while on a mission. You may have overreacted to the news.

Takes place during Thunderbolts, no spoilers so you’re safe.

Small angst, minorly depressing backstory, suggestive humor and fluff.

I may rewrite this chapter with more depth and clarity, admittedly I do this in my free time and I don’t have much of that. I’m a wife with 3 kids but this is fun for me to do!

If your brain didn’t prevent you from feeling every single heartbeat in your chest, you’d very likely go insane. For some reason, your brain decided to show you how…painful, a beating heart could be. It pounded against your chest. Suddenly you forgot how to breathe.

“I’m sorry, what?” You ask, panting, and at this point you’re unsure if it’s from the training or the news that just knocked the wind out of you.

“Uh, yeah…I’m sorry man but it’s killing me that no one has told you. I’m not sure why this is a secret. Bucky and Yelena kissed. On their mission. I know it was for-for a reason? I guess you could say. It didn’t mean anything. But that’s not the problem. The problem is they didn’t tell you. But…somehow we all know.” You nod, hands on your hips as you clear your throat. Your chest feels so heavy, like an anchor you’re trying so desperately to outswim before it pulls you down.

“Right. If they have nothing to hide, I don’t see why they wouldn’t have told me. Do they know you’re telling me now?” You ask, taking a sip from your water, trying not to cry even though your eyes are stinging, just on the brink of defeat.

“No, no I don’t think so. If it wasn’t gonna be me it would have been Bob. He’s…distressed, you could say.” You nod, wiping your hand down your face.

“I knew it. I knew you were all acting strange. Bucky just told me I was paranoid.” John chuckles, shaking his head.

“Unless he genuinely doesn’t think he did anything wrong.”

“What about Yelena?” He shakes his head.

“Haven’t really talked to her. She clearly isn’t bothered. Probably not the first time she’s had to get close with a coworker on the job. I truly don’t think they think anything of it. Just another day at work. Well, if it’s another day at work, why can’t you know about it?” You nod, pacing back and forth and point at him.

“Bring them here. Training session.” You put your attention back to the punching bag, letting your thought run wild. Everything that lead you here. How you met Bucky. The Thunderbolts.

You were the only success from years and years of hydras attempt to make a natural born super soldier. Both your parents were subjects to receive, at the time, the highest grade Super Soldier Serum. Your father a mad scientist, not a fighter by any means. But his body accepted the serum. Your mother, you never knew her name. She was killed a year after you were born, only kept around long enough to breastfeed you. Your father said she was nobody. You could only imagine what she went through. You didn’t know her name, but you gave her enough respect to call her your mother. You thought, you were a disgrace. A failure. No super powers. Not special by your father’s standards. First, you were a girl. And as a scientist, at least he understood that was his fault and not your mother’s. You quickly discovered as a young teenager you had a photographic memory. You could also see what your opponent would do before they themselves even knew. You always had the upper hand. You weren’t super strong, you weren’t super fast or resilient. You had natural gifts likely due to the serum your parents each had, but you were still a failure. A failure.

“-N)!” You snap out it it, turning to look at Bucky who was trying to pull you out of the trance you had found yourself in.

“Doll, are you alright? What-what’s going on?” He asks, looking down at you with such concern. His hands wipe away the tears that were spilling over your cheeks. You shake your head and push him away.

“Fight me Barnes” he steps back and holds his hands up. “Whoa what, come on. I’m not going to fight you. Not when you’re in such an emotional state. What’s going on?” You toss a knife in his direction and he turns his head, catching it.

“(Y/N). Come on.” His eyes become focused and serious. “I don’t know what the deal is, but we can talk about this.” You charged him and launched your knee into his chest. He just took it, stumbling back. He turns to look at John. “What did you do?” He asks and John just laughs and holds his hands up.

“Only what you should have done when you got home.” Bucky’s eyes soften and he sighs, looking down and you.

“Doll. Please.” You push him away. “We were about to be made. Things would have gotten much worse had they seen us. It didn’t mean anything.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“You think I don’t know that, James? You seriously think I’m mad BECAUSE you kissed? Of course not! I’d make out with John if it meant we left our mission with our lives! I’m MAD because you didn’t tell me! And on top of didn’t tell me, literally everyone else knew EXCEPT me, how does that happen, Bucky?!” He gulps, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N) truthfully I don’t know how anyone else knows. We weren’t going to say anything. As far as we were concerned it never happened. Had I known everyone else knew I’d have gone out of my way to make sure you heard it from me before anyone else.” He sighs, hands on his hips and looking over at John. “How did you know? Who told you?”

“Bob.”

“Uh huh. And who told Bob.” We all look at each other.

“Val.” We all say in unison and roll our eyes. “She has eyes everywhere.” You look at Bucky and sigh.

“I’m still mad.” You smirk and he chuckles.

“If you still wanna spar, you can let that anger out on me. I’d never win anyway.” He shrugs. You laugh.

“I can think of a different way I’d like to let my anger out.” You smirk.

“Yuck. I’m out. Good luck with that.” John leaves, you can feel the cringe leave his body as he exits.

“I’m gonna kill Val.”

“Get in line, Doll.”

TAGS:

@marinastudiesart

@vxllys

@teenwolfbitches28

@purplefluffycows

@bucky-baby-barnes

@xhazzz

@ordelixx

@sebastianstan0813

[mymindisneverhere]

late night writes… short & sweet

18+ SMUT

Masterlist

Imagine… Terry makes you say your affirmations after hearing you speak negatively about yourself.

“look in the mirror while i play with that pussy”

he instructed, using his free hand to bring your head forward until you locked eyes with your reflection. you sat in between his legs on the plush rug that covered the floor. legs wide open, kitty on full display dripping into the crack of your ass and onto your brand new rug. your knees were bent and rested against his as he stroked your cunt with his thick fingers, leaving a glossy coating on his knuckles that ran down his fingers. his middle and ring finger working you over as the seconds went by…

“tell daddy you’re pretty baby”

“i’m pretty” you cried out both from the insane amount of pleasure and the fact that just a few hours prior you were announcing the total opposite. with you working long hours and being a full time student, it was hard to find the time to get dolled up. solely focusing on not missing work or assignments, you made no time for yourself and as the days went by your confidence started to fade. so when he asked you to get dressed because he wanted to take you out to dinner, a celebration of finishing yet another semester, you expressed to him that you weren’t feeling the prettiest and that you weren’t up for a late night date… why did you do that?

“tell me how pretty you look while I’m playing in that pretty pussy.”

“I look so pretty daddy” a combination of a whine and a moan leaving your lips as you struggled to push out those words. he didn’t like when you spoke down on yourself. usually a simple conversation would take place and then you two would continue on with the day but the negative self talk was happening way too often for his liking. although he never missed a moment of praising you not only for your gorgeous looks as well as your intellect, your personality, and just simply being you, it wasn’t enough if you didn’t believe it yourself… so he had his way of making you believe it.

“daddy’s baby look beautiful all the time don’t she?”

“yessssssss.”

his deep voice praising and encouraging you while his strong arm flexed with each pump of his fingers, sending you into another dimension. you tried your hardest to recite your affirmations for him for a second time but he wasn’t making it an easy task. his fingers left your opening for a second and made way to your swollen clit, spreading your juices all over your sex.

“daddy don’t like when you say mean things about yourself and you know that.”

“i’m sorry daddy.” your face swirled with ecstasy and sorrow as he toyed your clit in circles with his fingers. your hole pulsating from the absence of his fingers, longing to be filled again. he continued his circles, making you watch his every move. the two of you sat, cheek to cheek, ear to ear, watching your own private show.

“look at my pretty girl” he smiled, noticing your confidence grow by the second as you stared at your own reflection. taking in every part of your body coupled with the vulnerability he was forcing you to bring to the forefront. you were never ugly, your body was never the problem, you just needed a little boost that’s all. “you fucking up your rug princess.”

“i don’t care daddy, i wanna cum! please!” you were on the brink and he was slowing down, why would he slow down?

“all fours, put that ass in the air!” he said, releasing you from his grasp and watching as you assumed the position. chest pressed against the floor, back arched, both hands on your ass, spreading yourself open so he could get a view of everything, exactly how he liked it. standing up on his knees, he pulled the waist band of his sweats down, letting his dick hang free. dragging his thickness down the slick of your lips, he grabbed onto your hips with one hand and slid into you until his balls were pressed firmly against your clit. you felt every. single. inch.

“uh un look at yourself and start over.” he grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled back until you were staring directly into the mirror again. using his other hand to grip your throat, he demanded that you repeat your affirmations once again while he dug into you mercilessly.

‘i am beautiful’

‘i love my body.’

‘i love myself for who i am’

the list went on and on until he was pleased with you.

the more you spoke, the greater your desire to release was building. the sweet gushy sounds he was pulling from you was music to his ears. the feeling of his dick hitting your spot repeatedly along with his heavy sack slapping against your clit, you couldn’t hold it any longer.

“i love everything about myself” you cried out, finishing the last of your affirmations. “can i cum daddy? please, can i cum?” face twisted as you tried to wait for his permission, preparing yourself for the amazing feeling that was about to take you over.

“you can cum pretty girl”

“ahhhh, yes yes yes!” you yelled out in rhythm with his strokes. “don’t stop daddy, please don’t stop.”

“i won’t baby, get all that shit. you deserve it.” your eyes began to cross as you felt the flow running down your pussy, dripping onto the rug. you wanted so badly to collapse but the grip he had on your head kept you in place. your arms had given out a while ago. he kept going, ignoring the fact that you were already cumming profusely. “i don’t wanna hear that shit come out your mouth again.”

“it won’t daddy, i promise.” you cried out, practically pleading with him. you were overstimulated and damn near worn out, you didn’t think you could handle another one so soon. but he wasn’t slowing down, increasing his intensity with every thrust.

“you promise what?”

“i won’t be m-mean to myself a-again.” your breathing staggered as you tried your best to respond to him. you gasped from the feeling that was returning once again, the strong urge was coming so fast. you didn’t have time to brace yourself. you could hear yourself cumming all over him, making a total mess on his pants and the floor.

“oh my godddddd.” he continued pressing into you while at the same time soothing you, caressing your cheek with his thumb. he slowed his movements, finally coming to a stop as he watched your body shake under his grasp. carefully resting your head onto the floor, his hand slid down the length of your back, caressing your hips while you struggled to catch your breath.

“you alright pretty girl?”

“yes daddy.”

[hyckstarz]

drabble · on the vanity ୨୧ l.mk

pairing. idol!mark lee x afab reader

word count. 0.8k

genre. smut

synopsis. mark couldn't keep his hands off of you even with the risks of being walked in on and, what better place to be knuckles deep in you than right here on the vanity?

warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, fingering, voyeurism (getting caught), pet name (baby)

"Mark, what are you doing?" She gasped as her boyfriend's hand trailed along the waistband of her plaid skirt, the pads of his calloused fingers ghosting over her supple skin.

"Relax, baby, no one will come in," he trailed open-mouthed kisses down her neck, lifting her up onto the vanity and slotting between her legs, dropping a few makeup brushes on the floor in the process.

She swallowed hard, eyes flickering to the door where music boomed, counting down to the next stage. He had already performed the first set as part of their award show and had to go back on in twenty minutes. There was no way no one would come in.

Hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in closer as his sweaty forehead pressed against hers. Despite her inhibitions, the mix of his vanilla and smokey amber cologne was enough to send her into a daze, "You sure?" she asked meekly, her anxiousness clear.

He chuckles, planting a tender kiss to her rosy cheeks, "I'm sure."

With that, his hand slid lower, dragging along her clothed folds, "For someone so nervous, you're enjoying this a little too much," the corner of Mark's lips twitches into a smirk at the feel of her soaked panties.

She smiles shyly, but it's cut short when he pushes her underwear aside and slips two fingers into her without warning, earning a sharp gasp from her which only strokes her boyfriend's ego, "Fuck..."

Her back arches against his fingers as he pumps them into her, curling into that sweet spot that earns him even sweeter sounds. Her head nestles into the crook of his neck as her warm, minty breath fans against his skin, motivating him further to drive her towards the brink.

She feels like she's going insane. His palm rubs against her clit and she can feel the cool rings on his fingers and the bump of his knuckles as they push into her, her walls clenching around them. Her mouth is agape as soft sounds escape her lips before his own crash into hers, parting his lips against her glossy ones while his tongue traces the plush, pink skin. He swallows her breathy moans, teeth grazing and nipping at her. It's messy, needy and passionate.

"Mark.. I'm close-" Just then, the door swung open, causing the couples head to snap towards a wide-eyed, flustered man. He suddenly sends the two a smug smile after realising Mark was knuckles deep into his girlfriend. Startled, she shyly turns away, pulling Mark closer to her in embarrassment - leg riding up his side in a futile attempt to block Haechan's view.

"Whoops, I'll knock next time," Haechan chuckles, shutting the door behind him as he leaves. They could hear his snickering echoing through the corridor, which leads Mark to let out an annoyed huff before continuing his ministrations more eagerly, frustrated at being interrupted.

She grapples at his hand, trying to still his movements as they turn increasingly eager and rough. It didn't help that his restless movements caused more lewd, squelching sounds to echo in the makeup room, her cheeks flushing, "M-Mark, we can't... risk anyone else... seeing us..." the words come out weak and breathy, barely able to get the words out as she felt herself reaching close to her orgasm again.

Mark shook his head, pulling her flush against him as her breasts pressed into his chest. His hand roamed her back, fingers clenching her shirt before threading through her hair, tugging at the brown, wavy locks, "If you don't want anyone to see, come on my fingers now, baby. I won't stop until you do, please."

Mark wasn't one to beg, especially when it wasn't for his own release. Butterflies fluttered in the pit of her stomach, her walls clenching around his fingers at the cute whiny lilt of his voice. She had found herself nodding, rocking her hips against his waiting fingers, wanting to satisfy her boyfriend and finally reach her high after denying and being denied - thanks to the earlier interruption.

His free hand moves from her hair to knead her clothed breast, groaning at how the soft mounds fit perfectly in his hand. It's too much for her; hands grasping at the table for something, anything, to maintain some semblance of sanity. Her frantic movements causes items to topple over, palettes to slide off of the desk and glasses to clink against each other before she finally grabs the edge of the vanity - knuckles turning white.

She bites down on his shoulder, stifling her moans as she comes undone on his fingers. She feels weak against him and Mark continues to hold her close, cooing at her as he helps her ride out her orgasm - a string of praises leaving his mouth that she can't even comprehend.

Once she came down from her high, the only thing she could think of was that Haechan would never let the activity they engaged in on the vanity go.

© hyckstarz

[burningembers91]

The Baby Shower - The Salesman x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

Freak of Nature On Display A Game of Cat and Mouse Crime of Passion Rare Gunpowder and Lace Like a Dog Three Little Words

Synopsis: While attending your friend's baby shower, The Salesman can't help but think about what it would be like to have a family of his own. But how could he be a loving father, when the only person he's ever cared about is you?

He disliked social events, detested having to made idle conversation with people he didn’t have any interest in. The mindless small talk drove him to the brink of insanity, the idea of having to talk about cars, jobs, and how much people paid for their watches was enough to give him an aneurysm. He’d managed to avoid needless social interaction for most of his life, but now that he had you, necessity required he dip his toes into the world of dinner parties, social gatherings and idle chit chat.

As much as he loathed talking to anyone who wasn’t you, he loved you more, and he’d walked across broken glass if you told him to. “It’s only for a few hours,” you smiled, zipping up your form hugging dress. “I know you hate these things, but she is my bestfriend after all.” You knew how much he hated attending parties with you, and you felt bad for making him go. You told him that you didn’t mind if he stayed at home, but staying at home wasn’t an option for him. He needed to be close to you, a loyal dog sticking by his mistress. He couldn’t stand to be away from you, even for a minute, so he’d brave the party, just for you. Everything he did nowadays was all for you. “When we get back, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me,” you whispered, smirking at him slyly in the mirror.

He was instantly hard, the list of desires he had too long to play out in his head. You always let him take charge when you got home from a party, always allowed him to punish you for the mundane torture he’d endured surrounded by your friends. “You’ll regret saying that,” he smiled, coming to stand behind you, his hands trailing up your body to the delicate curve of your neck. He tightened his grip ever so slightly, a small moan of pleasure escaping you as his hand gently closed around your throat. “I’ve never regretted letting you punish me,” you whispered, you hand snaking behind you to gently grip his growing erection. You were locked in a stalemate, both you desperate to tease the other, to see who would break first.

“Why don’t you let me punish you now,” he growled into your ear, his teeth grazing the soft, sensitive skin of your earlobe. “I could let you attend the party with my handprints on your ass. Maybe I’ll make you walk around with no underwear on while I drip from that pretty little pussy of yours.” You were so close to relenting, to letting him have his way. But you didn’t have time to play now, you were already late. “You’ll just have to be patient,” you smiled sweetly, squeezing his aching bulge between your grasp a little tighter. He moaned into you, his face buried in your hair as your fingers worked him through his suit. Your touch was his drug, the one thing he craved more than anything in the world. “More,” he grunted, pushing himself further into your touch. His hips bucked against your hand; his eyes fixed on yours in the mirror as he chased his high. “Later,” you whispered, pulling your hand away. He groaned in frustration, his arousal evident through the fabric of his pants. “We need to get going,” you told him, grabbing your purse from its hook on the back of the bedroom door. “I can’t be late to my best friend’s baby shower.”

The party was just as dire as he’d expected, everyone laughing and chatting about the prospect of their friends’ becoming parents. He’d never felt paternal before, had never understood the fascination with bringing a child into the world. He did his duty, plastering a smile on his face, asking your friends about their jobs and their families. But then he noticed you, your hands proudly cupping your friends growing baby belly, the two of you lost in conversation. Something stirred within him, some carnal desire he’d never felt before.

He pictured you with a growing baby bump, your hands pressed to your lower back as you looked lovingly down at your belly. He imagined his hands cupping your bump protectively as you fell asleep each night, of placing soft, sweet kisses on your stretchmark covered stomach. You’d be a wonderful mother, so caring and kind. But what kind of father would he be? He wasn’t capable of loving anyone or anything other than you. He tried to push the thought from his mind, convincing himself it was just residual desire leftover from the moment in the bedroom. And yet the thoughts persisted. Thoughts of you bringing a baby home, of cradling the tiny life in your hands as you sat by the window. He was getting angry now, the incessant images of you caring for his baby weaving their way into the fibres of his brain. He couldn’t risk bringing a baby into the world, not when he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to love it.

That night, he was extra rough when he punished you. He forced you to your knees, fucking your throat with his aching, hard cock until tears streamed down your face. He bent you over the bed, spanking you until your skin turned red. He fucked you into the mattress, your face buried in the pillows as he took his frustration out on your tight, dripping core.

But after the punishment, when he’d returned to being your faithful little dog, the thoughts resumed. Thoughts of you growing his baby, thoughts of walks through the park with a stroller, of nighttime feeds and days out at soft play. The baby would be part of you both, your combined DNA. But he couldn’t choose what parts of him the baby inherited. Would they be as cold and callous as he was? Would they get kicks out of torturing and taking the lives of innocent people? Would they grow up to be just as evil as their father?

He didn’t sleep that night, his mind whirling as his thoughts consumed him. He stared down at you as you slept, your soft body pressed against his. He had no doubt you’d be a great mother.

But what kind of father would he be if he felt nothing for the life he helped create?

[grapejuicenharry]

Based on this request !!

warnings: smut, 18+, daddy kink, eating out, fingering.

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

Y/N was in the kitchen, slicing lemons as the afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows. It was a pleasant, sunny day, and she had decided to make some lemonade. However, she had been feeling annoyed and moody since the morning—everything seemed to irritate her, leaving her grumpy.

Lost in the mundane rhythm of her task, she was absentmindedly focused on her lemons and didn't notice when he entered the room.

It wasn't until Harry's arms slid around her waist from behind, pulling her back against his bare, solid chest, that she gasped in surprise. His faint cologne lingered in the air, wrapping around her like a second skin.

"Morning, darling," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear.

"It's not morning," she replied quickly, rolling her eyes, though her pulse quickened at the heat of him pressed so close.

"It is when I say it is," Harry countered, his voice low and husky, his beard lightly scraping against her jaw as he spoke. His hand settled firmly on her hip, turning her slightly so her back was fully pressed to his chest. "Been ignoring me all day."

It was true-she'd been giving him attitude all day, snapping at him and brushing him off for no real reason. She hadn't kissed him since morning either, using a quick "I'm busy" as her excuse. And she secretly loved it. Testing his patience, watching the subtle shift in his jaw when she pushed too far. She knew exactly what she was doing. It was a dangerous game, but she couldn't resist. The thought of him snapping, putting her in her place, sent a thrill through her. She wanted him to lose control-wanted him to spank her and edge her when she is close. 

She even wore his favorite dress, fully aware that it would drive him wild. As she moved around the house, she casually did chores, brushing past him and leaning down just enough to tease him with her cleavage. Each time he asked her to come closer, she playfully denied him. He knew what game she was playing, and it was driving him to the brink of insanity.

.༘ ˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

“I was busy," she said nonchalantly, though the hitch in her breath betrayed her as his fingers traced slow circles over her waist.

"Too busy for me?" His tone darkened, teasing but edged with something more, something that made her stomach twist.

"Harry—“ she warned, but her voice was barely above a whisper.

"What's that?" His lips grazed over the curve of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

"That's not what you call me, is it?" Her hands stilled on the counter, the knife slipping from her fingers with a dull thud. Her breath hitched as he turned her fully, pinning her between the counter and his body.

"Say it," he murmured, tilting her chin up with his fingers. "Be a good girl and say it for me."

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. Her heart pounded in her chest. She bit her lip, but the way he looked at her-demanding, dominant-made it impossible to resist.

"Daddy," she breathed, her voice soft and barely audible. A slow smile spread across his lips. "That's my girl," he said, brushing his thumb against her bottom lip. "You're so good for me, aren't you?"

She nodded, her body a mess of trembling need. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, and her panties were damp with arousal. Her pulse quickened as his hand trailed down her thigh, gripping it firmly.

"Turn around," he ordered. She obeyed, her breath catching as his hands guided her back to the counter. The cool surface pressed against her palms, making her shiver even though heat pooled in her belly. Harry's presence behind her was intoxicating— his scent, his warmth, the sound of his breathing.

His hands slid against her sides, his lips trailing kisses along her jaw and neck. "Look at you," he murmured. "Always so perfect for me."

Her knees wobbled slightly as his hands found the hem of her dress, bunching it up around her waist. He smoothed his palm over the curve of her ass before landing a sharp spank. She gasped, the sting making her arch back against him. "Do you like teasing me, sweetheart?" he asked, his tone sweet yet laced with dominance.

"Yes," she panted, her voice trembling with need.

"Yes, what?" His lips brushed against her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine.

"Yes, Daddy," she whimpered, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and desire.

He hummed in satisfaction, his hand slipping between her thighs. She jerked under his touch as he pressed his thumb to her clit.

"You're always so ready for me," he muttered, his fingers moving in slow circles. "Do you know how much that drives me crazy?"

Her head fell back against his shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut. But he wasn't done-not even close.

"Eyes open," he commanded, gripping her chin and tilting her head forward. "I want you to see what you do to me.

"She forced her eyes open, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the kitchen window. The sight of him—his darkened eyes, flushed skin, and messy hair sent a thrill coursing through her.

"You're mine," he said. "Say it."

"I'm yours," she gasped as his hands roamed her body, tugging her dress straps down to expose her skin.

"That's my good girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Please, Harry," she begged, her body trembling with need.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" he asked, his tone teasing as he kissed the swell of her breast.

"I want to cum," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Harry dropped to his knees behind her, pulling her panties down in one swift motion. The cold marble beneath her hands grounded her, but the heat pooling in her belly was impossible to ignore.

His mouth met her center, his tongue flicking and circling relentlessly. Each stroke sent her closer to the edge, her body trembling as he gripped her thighs to keep her still.

"Harry, please," she gasped, her voice a mix of desperation and pleasure.

"Not yet," he murmured, pulling back slightly.

"You think you can tease me all day and get what you want so easily?"

She whimpered, her legs trembling. "Please, Daddy," she begged, her tone pleading.

Who was he to deny her when she begged so sweetly? With a groan, he dove back in, his tongue and fingers working in perfect sync. The pressure built quickly, and with one final stroke, she shattered, crying out his name as her orgasm tore through her.

"Look at you," Harry muttered, licking her clean. Her body shook with aftershocks as he stood, gripping her hips tightly to steady her.

“You’re not done yet, sweetheart.” He murmured.

Harry turned her around swiftly, the action making her slightly dizzy, but she steadied when his lips crashed against hers.

The kiss was messy, desperate, and filled with raw intensity. She could taste herself on his lips, which only made her moan against his mouth.

Her hands slid into his hair, tugging at the soft strands hard enough to draw a groan from him. The sound sent a thrill down her spine, and she arched into him, feeling the hard length of his cock against her belly.

"Turn back around," he demanded, his voice rough with need. She obeyed instantly, her body pliant under his control. The cool air hit her heated skin as he pushed his boxers down, freeing himself.

Her breath hitched when he pressed himself against her, his cock sliding between her slick folds in teasing strokes.

"Harry," she whimpered, trying to push back against him, but his hands gripped her hips, holding her still.

"Patience," he murmured, his tone firm. "You'll take what I give you.”

Slowly, he pushed into her, stretching her inch by inch until he was fully seated inside her. She gasped, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter as he let her adjust.

"Always so fucking tight for me," he muttered, his voice strained.

"Move, please," she whispered, her voice trembling. He didn't need to be told twice. He pulled out almost completely before thrusting back into her, setting a pace that made her moan loudly.

Each snap of his hips hit her perfectly, her body melting into the counter as she took every thrust.

"Look at you," he groaned, one hand slipping around to toy with her clit while the other gripped her hip. "Taking me so well, sweetheart."

Her legs shook as the pressure inside her built higher and higher.

"Harry—l-I'm gonna—” she stammered, her voice breaking as the pressure in her belly increasing.

“Cum for me," he growled, his pace quickening. "Be my good girl and cum all over my cock.”

That was all it took. Her body tensed, and she came with a loud cry, her walls clenching around him as she fall apart.

"Fuck, Y/N," Harry groaned, his thrusts turning sloppy as he chased his own release. He buried himself deep inside her one last time, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he spilled inside her.

He pulled out gently, both of them whimpering as their arousal dripped down her thighs.

For a moment, neither of them moved, their bodies pressed together as they caught their breath. Harry leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on her shoulder. "I love you, baby," he murmured, his voice low and sweet. She smiled, turning her head slightly to meet his gaze. "I love you more.”

[thirteenheavens]

Ateez Yeo x Reader where he's going super rough with her so she bites the sheets to keep from being too loud?

💜

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*

Yeosang's possessive hands gripped your hips as he pulled you closer to him, his body flush against yours. He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he spoke in a low, sultry tone.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," he growled, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "I'm going to make you feel so good, baby."

You moaned softly in response, your body already reacting to his touch. Yeosang's hands roamed over your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

"You're so beautiful," he said, nipping at your neck. "So perfect for me."

He began to thrust into you from behind, his movements slow and deliberate at first, teasing you until you were begging for more.

"Beg for me," he commanded, his grip on your hips tightening. "I want to hear you say my name."

You couldn't hold back your pleas, your voice filled with desperation as you begged for him to go faster, harder.

"Please, Yeosang," you whimpered, your nails digging into the sheets. "I need you."

Yeosang smirked at your submission, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more powerful as he hit all the right spots.

"That's it, good girl," he praised, his hips snapping against yours relentlessly. "Keep begging for me like that."

Your mind was hazy with pleasure, the only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Yeosang inside you. You moaned his name repeatedly, lost in ecstasy as he continued to dominate you.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his breath ragged. "So perfect and tight for me to ruin."

Yeosang leaned down, his chest pressed against your back as he continued to pound into you from behind. He whispered sweet praises in your ear, his words mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"You take me so well," he said, his voice laced with desire. "You were made for me to use like this."

Yeosang chuckled at your reaction, noticing the way your eyes rolled back. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back slightly to expose your neck.

"You're mine," he growled, his teeth grazing over your sensitive skin. "And I'm going to make sure everyone knows it."

Yeosang's thrusts became more erratic as he chased his own release, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

"That's it, hold on for me," he said, his grip on your hair tightening even more. "I'm almost there."

You felt your orgasm building, your walls clenching around him as you teetered on the edge. Yeosang could feel it too, his movements becoming more desperate as he drove you closer to the brink.

"Cum for me," he demanded, his voice strained. "Cum all over my cock."

Your body convulsed as you finally reached your peak, your screams muffled by the sheets. Yeosang let out a low groan as he felt you tighten around him, his own orgasm following closely behind.

He buried himself deep inside you, his hips stuttering as he filled you with his release. He held you close, both of you panting heavily as you came down from your high.

Yeosang didn't stop after you came, he continued to thrust into you, still not satisfied. He was consumed by the pleasure, lost in the feeling of being buried inside you.

"You're not done yet," he said, his voice hoarse. "I want to keep going until you're completely spent."

You were overwhelmed with pleasure, your body still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Yeosang showed no mercy, using your body to chase his own pleasure over and over again.

He lifted your leg, changing the angle and hitting a new spot that had you screaming his name once more. He smirked at your reaction, knowing he was driving you insane.

Your grip on the sheets tightened even more, your knuckles turning white from the force. You were a mess beneath him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the intense pleasure.

"You're so damn perfect," he said through gritted teeth, his hips slamming into you without pause. "I can't get enough of you."

Yeosang could see the pure bliss on your face, and it fueled his desire even more. He loved seeing you like this, completely lost in the ecstasy he was giving you.

He reached down and began to rub your clit in quick circles, determined to make you cum again. He wanted to push you to your limit, to make you beg for him to stop.

You were shaking now, your body trembling uncontrollably as he continued to toy with your sensitive bundle of nerves. The stimulation was too much, but you couldn't find the words to tell him to stop.

"I know you're close," he whispered in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "You can't hold back anymore, baby. Give in to me."

"Please... I can't take it," you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your moans. "It's too much."

Yeosang chuckled at your plea, enjoying the sight of you completely wrecked and pleading for mercy.

"But you're doing so well," he teased, not slowing down his movements at all. "You can handle it. You can handle everything I give you."

Tears streamed down your face as you sobbed from the overstimulation, your body on the verge of another orgasm. Yeosang noticed your tears and he smirked even wider, a sense of satisfaction filling him.

"Look at you," he said, his voice dripping with lust. "Crying because you can't handle my cock and my fingers. So damn beautiful."

You felt like you were going to explode, the sensations coursing through your body becoming too intense to bear. You buried your face into the mattress, trying to muffle your screams as you came for a third time.

Yeosang followed soon after, his body tensing up as he emptied himself inside you once more. He rode out his orgasm with a deep groan, his hips jerking sporadically before he finally stopped.

He collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He peppered your neck and shoulders with gentle kisses, soothing you as you came down from your intense high.

"You did so good, love," he whispered, his voice filled with affection. "I'm proud of you."

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

❝KANG YEOSANG❞

➾In Which: All of my hard thoughts about Yeosang.

❥Kang Yeosang x fem reader

➯a/n: written as fem reader but applies to gn reader as well ! if you've read any of my yeosang one shots you know where this is headed and if not i apologize in advance LMFAO ➯other members here <3

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut, headcanon / rant style

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not grammatically correct i'm just yappin, rough, nasty, mean, intense bdsm relationship (freaks in love fr), extreme dom / sub dynamics, extreme degradation but also praise, extreme name calling — he's an extreme person in bed what can i say ?!, cnc: reader ACTS like she doesn't want it / yeosang 'forces' her / 'forced' breeding, choking (with hands and cock and arms (i have been obsessed with his arms for two years, check the records with Playtime !!)), orgasm control, pet play, manhandling, anal play, piss kink: making reader hold it + drink it (wwwh i can't stop spreading the piss agenda im so sorry), cunnilingus, fingering, sub space, pussy slapping aaaand regular slapping, sex toys, spit (everywhere)

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

18+.MINOR FREE BLOG.

➯cnc disclaimer: CONSENT IS SEXY. all parties are and always will be consenting in my stories. cnc is a way to explore power dynamics and it's attractive to many people, it does not "promote s/a", the first c is CONSENSUAL. you should only ever do it with someone who you trust. be safe and stay freaky !!

❝KANG YEOSANG❞ is the most dominant and mean in the bedroom. he's so calm every day because he uses you as an outlet for his emotions. he has a lot of emotions so i hope you have some advil handy —

➾pet names include: darling. that's it, maybe a cute play on your name. he much more prefers calling you bitch. not in a truly mean way, and almost never outside of sex. it's his version of the average 'babe', it's his favorite <3 but he does noooot stop there ! slut, whore, stupid, and toy are also yeosang staples.

➾unlike a lot of extreme doms, he doesn't care to have a title. he doesn't want to separate himself from how he treats you in the bedroom cause he well and true means everything he does and says to ruin you. he likes it when you call him baby or sangie <3

➾yeosang does NOT do soft sex. not even when he's eating you out, like yunho (the other crazy ass dom) does. when he's between your legs: he's sucking your clit until you yank his hair, he's curling his fingers into you roughly while he does so, he's pulling back every few moments and spitting fat wads of saliva on your cunt or slapping it until it's puffy.

➾control control control — that's what he wants and he gets it with you. your orgasms ? better ask him first or risk being edged to the brink of insanity as a punishment. your pee ? gotta hold it until he's satisfied or bored of watching you squirm and ready to move on. your breath ? he's in control of it. whether he's choking you with his cock down your throat, his hand on your neck, or his entire arm squeezing it — he's in control of your very life force and you trust him enough to be, which makes him even harder. and you thank him when he lets you suck in some air, cause isn't he so sweet and merciful ?

➾my mans has insane stamina from dancing and working out and he used to be a fucking cheerleader — put all that, and his repressed emotions together and guess what you get ? you get fucked ! in every possible position he can think of, for as long as you can hold it without tapping out. his favorites are making you touch your toes as he pounds you from behind until your knees give out and he has to catch you, and putting you in the meanest mating press known to man — his fingers digging into the back of your thighs as he squishes them to your chest, your feet dangling in the air, a pillow under your back to help him get the perfect angle to absolutely ruin your cunt for anyone else ♡

➾he loves to experiment with you, almost anything you lay on the table he will try at least once — given that you do the same for him. and by a stroke of freak luck; cnc and roleplay. doesn't matter who's idea it was, he fucking loses his mind the first time you try fighting against his man handling. he goes a bit less rough on you just so you have a fighting chance, and he thinks it's so cute how hard you try and how many times you catch yourself leaning into his thrusts or his hold on your throat before reminding yourself you're supposed to be doing the opposite.

➾it almost makes him cum on the spot as you beg him not to cum inside of you. he pulls out, not because you asked but because he was about to do the unthinkable and actually cum without meaning to. when he collects himself, he slams back into you and tell you to fucking beg to eat his cum instead if you don't want him to knock you up, bitch. he's going to do it inside either way but it's so beautiful to him the way you immediately start begging to please him — because he knows you want it deep inside just as much as him.

➾sangie not only has a collection of vitamins, he has a collection of sex toys. gags, different restraints (the softer ones are for when you've been well behaved, harsher ones for punishments), vibrators, paddles, cute little headbands with fluffy ears on them that he places on your head like a crown and tail buttplugs to match.

➾when you wear the ears and tail, he likes for you to bark. 'bitches love to bark, but they always end up submitting' my favorite yeosang line EVER. he'll pet your head and tell you to stick out your tongue as you sit in the perfected position you've learned. kneeling, hands behind your back, eyes on his no matter where they go. when you stick your tongue out, he pisses in you mouth and you drink it up without hesitation and he smiles so fondly that it's hard to remember exactly what's happening. when you open your mouth to show him it's all gone, his smile widens and he'll slap you, lighter than usual, and call you a good puppy for taking your owners treat so nicely. then he'll give you another treat — his spit, and you swallow that too. he likes doggy style when you're all puppied up, he can tug on your tail and watch your back arch while you beg him to fill you up.

➾yeosang is an insanely mean dom, but he also takes incredibly good care of you to the point that eventually — you don't even hesitate before doing anything he says. your body moves before you think, or maybe you don't think at all. you don't have to ! you trust him to do anything, because he's proved that you can. and he'll never take advantage of that cause it makes his heart soar and his ears blush when you watch him with dazed eyes for your next instruction.

➾aftercare feels like a dream you never want to wake up from :( it starts with a wet, heated kiss while he cradles your face. he carries you to the bathroom wrapped up in a blanket and washes you clean of whatever filth he's got on you, smiling like an idiot in love (because he is). carries you back in the same blanket, doesn't even bother dressing either of you as he gets you a cold water and some pain killers, kissing you on the forehead before putting on whatever show or movie you want to watch while he holds you <3

[angrythingstarlight]

Bee bought her dad those shorts specifically for her vacation she planned 😤

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumblebee.

AN: Bee vs Bucky's Tailor.

Bucky will wear anything Bee wants, much to Enzo's chagrin.

The mobster's tailor is locked in a battle of the wills with the toddler. And he's losing. Enzo prides himself on ensuring that Bucky and his little family are some of the best-dressed people on the east coast, he dedicates his life to finding new designers and fashion houses to work with. He will only touch the most expensive fabrics, he's never even stepped foot in a department store.

And his efforts to keep the family in high-end fashion are being thwarted by a toddler and her stuffed dino.

Bee picked out the shorts earlier today along with a few other items for her parents to wear during the vacation. They were too big so he brought them to his rancorous tailor.

Now Bucky's lounging in the back of his tailor's shop, watching his toddler in her teal dress and matching ballet flats argue with Enzo over fashion.

She has the shorts in her hands, Enzo has been refusing to even give them a second look, instead offering up a pair of plain black shorts. Bee politely turned them down, deeming them too boring for her Papa.

"Why can't he wear these? These are a Brion exclusive. Much better than that"—Enzo shudders as if the mere mention of the offending article of clothing hurts him, his lips turning into a sneer—"monstrosity."

Bee pats the colorful designs with her palms, gazing up at the tailor. "Is not 'stwonsity," she insists, not even offended because she loves these shorts and no one can convince her otherwise. "It's pwetty. And they makes Papa pwetty."

Enzo opens his mouth, another argument brewing when Bucky glances up from his phone, one brow arched. Bee's word is final. The silent warning gliding over his toddler's head and wrapping around his tailor's throat. He nods his head in deference to his pakhan.

Enzo plasters a pained smile across his face, defeat sinking into his bones. "Alright, Miss Barnes. You win. I'll have this ready for your papa in an hour." He gingerly takes the shorts from her, pinching the fabric between two fingers. "At least your mother always looks presentable," he mutters.

Bee perks up at the mention of you, she smiles brightly. "I gots mommy some 'cation clothes too. Wanna see?"

"Show me." She skips over to the bags, pulling out a colorful skirt, proudly holding it up. Enzo sighs, his head dropping back and he stares at the ceiling. "I suppose it could be worse."

An unperturbed Bee grins. "Tank you."

Bucky scoops his toddler into his arms. "Let's go get some ice cream while we wait. Did you decide where you're taking us on vacation?"

Bee shakes her head. "It's a secret. I can't tells you yet." Bucky lets out a soft chuckle under his breath as she looks over his shoulder, waving at the tailor. "Bye, Mr. Enzo. Be back laters. I'll show you Papa’s new 'cation shirt after my ice cweam. It's so pwetty!"

Bucky strolls out of the shop, closing the door behind him as Enzo dramatically groans. "I will make her a fashionista if it's the last thing I do."

If Bucky had to bet, he'd place all his money on his stubborn toddler driving Enzo to the brink of insanity before he ever got her to change her mind about her carefree fashion choices.

He knows it'll be entertaining to watch these two bicker and compromise as Bee gets older.

[gotta-winwin]

(🎞️) ... hit the road docu.<> at the end of this road

masterlist | cyana's masterlist

word count: 1k TW: mentions of scoups hiatus, overworking italics are interviews cut in between scenes + english. a/n: this one's short but sweet ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

Cyana watched as Hoshi mumbled to himself in the mirror. She walked over, worried that the boy had finally pushed himself to the brink of insanity.

"You got this, Hoshi." He chided himself through the mirror. "You have to smile onstage even if you're not feeling well. This is your job."

Her heart sank.

She knew everybody was finding it rough without Seungcheol, their conditions were wearing thin and members kept falling ill left and right. Approaching him, she put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

"Number?" She asked. The question was feeling increasingly silly to ask as everyone's pain became more obvious.

She admired Hoshi a lot, when he still looked up at her with a bright smile. "7? I'm doing good." They both knew he was lying through his teeth, afraid of adding to the already low moral.

Cyana pulled up a chair next to him and laid her head down on the table, turning so she could still see him. "I miss Coups."

Hoshi nodded, reaching over to run his fingers languidly through her hair. She no longer recoiled at the physical touch anymore, both too tired and too used to it to move. They felt like second nature to her by now. "Me too."

It felt like they were always dodging around the problem, pretending that everything was fine. Cyana supposed it was probably easier to go onstage and smile if you didn't have to talk about what was bothering you.

"Fighting!" Hoshi brought his hand up for a fist bump.

Returning the gesture lazily, Cyana couldn't help but feel amazed at how well Hoshi could adapt, still bringing the energy even when he wasn't feeling 100%.

"My stomach was hurting a lot during rehearsal." Hoshi was busy eating as he answered the interviewer's question. "Probably caught whatever Dino had in Japan."

He could be seen stumbling during their choreo, a strange sight coming from their performance unit leader.

"I wanted to bubblewrap every single one of them and tell the world not to get them sick." Cyana's lips curled at the wishful thought. "We were all trying to compensate for Coups oppa's absence and Hannie oppa, but Hoshi was trying the most."

"We're both sick." Dino told the camera, as if he was a little proud to be having a partner in crime.

Cyana frowned when Hoshi nodded. "That's not a good thing."

"At least we have each other." Hoshi shrugged, clapping Dino on the back in solidarity. "Suffering together."

She scoffed, although the worry was evident by the way she was pulling Dino's jacket tighter around him. "My overachievers." She mumbled endearingly, shaking her head when they only exchanged a smile. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Cherish and love us." Hoshi laughed when she cringed at his comment. "Ow." He stopped laughing to clutch his stomach. "Laughing hurts."

Cyana let out a deep sigh. "Go lie down with Jeonghan. We have like 20 minutes before we're rehearsing again."

She looked at the camera with an exasperated glance as the two boys left, following her orders. "It's a wonder I'm younger than all of them. Sometimes I feel like the oldest."

The Hiphop Unit's performance felt empty without Seungcheol's presence. Cyana sat next to Hoshi and Woozi, joining them as they watched Vernon, Mingyu and Wonwoo rehearse their own separate parts.

"They're good." Hoshi spoke into her ear, tucking her hair aside.

She nodded. "I miss Coups though."

"You've been saying that since he left." Woozi glanced at her with faint amusement. "Keep talking and we'll start thinking you have a favourite."

Cyana laughed, clapping her hands together at the accusation. "Maybe I do have a favourite."

"It's got to be me." Hoshi mused, grabbing her hand in his and shaking it. "You love me."

She made a face and he pouted.

"We both know her favourite is Dino." Woozi offered, it was rare for him to join in in teasing Cyana, but she was glad he felt they were close enough for that now.

Eyes wide with mock offense, she gently nudged Woozi in retaliation. "I'm not telling."

Hoshi sighed, ignoring her words. "It's definitely me." He said, deliberately, to no one in particular.

The other two shared a look and they both snorted at the statement. "You wish."

"What is Hoshi to you?"

The question was asked to everyone gathered in the makeup and hair room, a couple hours before their concert in Bangkok.

Wonwoo looked up from the ramen he was busy picking apart. "A..." He paused, trying to find a more polite way to phrase what he was thinking. "...a very passionate friend."

"A cute attention seeker?" Minghao offered when the camera approached him.

Hoshi let out a guffaw from behind him. "I am not an attention seeker.”

"Hoshi's a lunatic." Woozi said, summing up exactly what everyone else had been thinking but had been too afraid to say.

The camera panned to Cyana, who was staring at Woozi, mouth agape. "That was what I was going to say!" She protested, now at a loss for words. "Umm..." She looked at Hoshi, thinking. "Hoshi is a friend who I look at sometimes and think...what is going on inside his mind?" She quoted the viral tiktok sound, laughing when only Vernon caught the reference.

"People usually don't know that I'm an introvert." Hoshi spoke to the camera. "I'm only a lunatic around my members, or people I'm close to."

"You should've seen how shy he was the first time we were alone in a room together." Cyana remembered the instance. "He could barely look at me. Addressed the ground whenever he said anything.”

As the hours passed and it was time for the concert to begin, everyone crowded around and placed their hands in the center, looking expectingly at Hoshi for him to begin their chant.

"Okay everyone!" He yelled, all fired up and ready to go. He could feel the energy and passion bubbling through him as a fire ignited within, ready to give his all onstage. "An Ode Tour in Bangkok! Let's give a shout in 3!"

Cyana stood opposite to him in the circle, admiring him silently.

"I always joke and say I want to be just like Hoshi when I grow up." Cyana giggled at her little quip. "But there's truth to that. I want to be just like him onstage - a natural performer who gives his all."

a/n: there will be lots of hit the road eps coming soon! i loved exploring hoshi and cyana's dynamic further

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Interrogation

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader 18+

wc. 1.2k Warning: 18+, MDNI!, fingering, edging, <33333

“Satoru~” you moan as you sit in his lap, his fingers thrusting themselves deep into your poor, dripping cunt.

“Come on, baby. Tell me. You wanna be my good girl, don’t you~” He asked, feeling your juices drip down his hand onto his chair.

“I-I can’t! That would be cheat-ngh-ing~” you whine, fat tears clinging to your eyelashes. His thumb rubbed faster on your clit, his fingers thrusting up deeper to the point where he was knuckles deep inside.

“Come on, it's just a test baby. There's no shame in a little cheating~” He said, placing open mouthed kisses on your neck, making sure to leave plenty of marks.

Indeed, it was all true. This entire situation stemmed from a ridiculous test designed to evaluate Satoru's interrogation skills. He was tasked with solving a fabricated crime scene by extracting information from a few people: Kento, Shoko, and you. Kento and Shoko had already taken their turns, and unsurprisingly, Satoru easily coaxed the necessary information out of them, mostly due to the fact that he was being hella annoying and they just wanted to leave.

Satoru was nearly finished unraveling the mystery, with only you, his beloved wife, left to question. He assumed it would be straightforward, expecting you to simply provide the answer so he could complete this absurd test. However, you proved to be far more challenging than he anticipated, and Satoru found himself struggling to elicit any useful information from you.

But then, a solution to his predicament dawned on him. And that’s where you both find yourselves now.

“B-But this isn’t how a pr-proper–fuck–interogation s-should go. You would never do this in a real si-situationnn~” You whined, feeling your climax approaching once again.

“True, but this is a stupid fucking test that my wife is making unnecessarily difficult for her sweet and kind husband. The man who worships the ground she walks on, who can't ever stop thinking about her, and who loves seeing her unravel right in front of his very eyes~” He said, speeding up the pace. He knew you were close, so very close to that wonderful and toe curling orgasm that would leave you in shambles.

“Toru, please~” You begged, not wanting him to stop again.

“Please what, my love?” He asked, acting all innocent.

“I wanna cum…please let me~” I whined, looking at him with desperation. However, seeing that you still haven’t answered his question, he quickly pulled his fingers out of you. You gasp once more, feeling that long awaited orgasm slowly disappear.

“Not until you tell me what I want to hear, my sweet~” He teased, looking at his coated fingers. He spread his fingers apart, seeing the sticky residue you left on them.

He looked at you and placed them in his mouth, licking them clean and savoring the flavor.

“N-No! I won’t!” I said, trying to gain back control, failing miserably. Satoru looked at you, his jaw clenched at your stubbornness.

“Fine.”

He picked you up and slammed you on his desk, digging his fingers back into your aching pussy. And he was ruthless. You arched your body into his chest, feeling his fingers hit just the right spots inside of you.

”Then we’re gonna keep doing this until you tell me. And trust me, my love, I have all day and night. Only thing is, can you survive that long? Hmm?” He asked, kissing down to your chest, placing his mouth over one of your sensitive nipples.

”Fuck! S-Satoru!” You cried out, grabbing onto his hair to have some sort of leverage. He moaned, feeling your delicate fingers intertwining themselves with his locks.

”You like that, baby? You like feeling my fingers drive into you like this?” He asked, kissing back up to your neck.

”You like when my thumb presses hard, right here?” He asked, pressing down hard on your clit, rubbing quick little circles over it.

”Mmmm~” You moaned, feeling yourself slowly fall into the brink of insanity. He had been edging you for so long now and you were getting desperate.

“Fuck, you know I love you, right?” He whispered in your ear, licking the outer shell. And as soon as he said those words, he felt your sweet and needy cunt clench around his fingers.

”Oh, you liked that, didn’t you~” He said, grinning sinisterly.

”You like when I say how much I love you~” He asked, bringing his other hand to your face, forcing you to look up at him.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful like this…Open your mouth for me.” He ordered, and you were quick to oblige. He leaned over you, spitting right in your mouth.

“Now swallow, my love~” And you did, hoping he would now let you cum.

You fool…

Satoru quickly removed his fingers again, making you cry out again.

”Don’t stop! Please baby!’ You begged, trying to move closer to his hand to get that sweet relief.

“You know the rules, Yn. Tell me what I need to know. And then I'll make sure you cum so hard, it's all you’ll think about.”

He reinserted his fingers again, moving at the same pace as before.

“Come on, baby. Tell me. That’s all you have to do~” he said in your ear. And at this point, you were so blissed out that you didn’t care anymore.

“Fine!” You moaned, telling him everything he needed to know. He looked deep into your eyes, giving you a small little kiss on your lips.

“See, that wasn’t that hard now, was it? And for being such a good girl, you can have your reward~”

He sped up his fingers, curling them inside as he spread you out. He rubbed your sensitive clit once again, sensing your upcoming orgasm.

“Cum baby. You did so well that you deserve it. Fuck, I love you so much.” He said, placing his lips on yours in a sloppy, heated kiss. He drove his tongue into your mouth, exploring all over.

Within seconds, you feel a wave of pleasure hit you like a train. Warmth spreads throughout your entire body, blood rushing to your ears. Your body tenses up, your muscles clenching as you let out a loud, gorgeous moan. It was music to Sartoru’s ears. You finally came and it was one hell of an orgasm. It left you shaking and breathless on his desk.

Satoru pulled away from your lips, watching you slowly come back down from your high. He gently pushed back one of your stray hairs from your face, kissing your nose.

“You, my love, did so well for me~” Suddenly, a knock was heard. “Now, let’s see how he did.” One of the higher ups said, alerting both you and Satoru.

“Damn higher ups. Come on.” He said, picking you up bridal style.

“S-Satoru! What are-“

“You think I’m staying here for those losers? I’d much rather be with you, Yn. Now, let's go finish what we started, shall we?” He asked, teleporting you two away back to your guys’ home.

And you slept happily ever after~

_________________

[holymolyineedtherapy]

My Headcanons with 100yq

Let me start by saying I love fairy tail. It was my first shounen anime that I sought out on my own. (One piece, Naruto, and Bleach just came on when I was little and watching toonami). It is, to this day, one of my favorite shows of all time with Lucy Heartfilia being one of my favorite characters of all time.

So, on to the headcanons.

Lucy and Natsu have an undefined relationship. They call each other their partner and let people take it how they will because they don't even know. Their relationship is so much more than being in love or working together. They would die for the other and pull the other back from the brink of insanity. How can you label that? They have a blind trust in the other and that's all that matters.

Wendy has received some lasting effects from being trapped for 7 years and that's why it appears she hasn't grown much despite being the age for multiple growth spurts to have hit. Her body being in hibernation for so long has left her stunted almost. She's the only one who is was a young child when it happened and is the only one who looks relatively the same after all that time.

It also doesn't help now that she has the power of Irene in her body now as well. That much power isn't helping her at all either. Most of her energy goes to keeping her power in check, not allowing her to grow much.

Erza has almost somewhat dedicated Lucy to be her "right-hand man" while she leads the group. Yeah, it's technically Team Natsu, but Erza and Lucy are the ones who do a majority of the work that isn't fighting. Erza is in charge of the group as a whole, ensuring that everyone is safe, healthy, and on track. Lucy is in charge of the map, finances, and helping with other information.

Natsu and Gray are the weather regulators. If they go somewhere that's too hot, Gray takes over. If they go somewhere too cold, Natsu takes over. That's their main job aside from getting food when they aren't nearby any towns.

I personally believe that they all have some sort of chronic pain or lingering injuries from their fights in the past.

Erza tends to hurt just about all over, but mainly gets head aches due to her eye strain and all the concussions she's sustained.

Natsu doesn't usually hurt too badly, but his scars always bother him whether they're itchy, throbbing, or something. His problem usually lies with his heart. Having died multiple times tends to fuck it up.

Gray has a similar issue with his scar. He also tends to feel very tight in his muscles due to how cold his natural body temp is after learning devil slayer magic so it takes him awhile to get out of bed in the morning. (He loved when the town was underwater because he could easily climb out of bed with no problem)

Wendy usually deals with sore muscles and an odd tingling in her hands and feet. They concluded that it's nerve damage from the Face she and Carla took care of.

Lucy gets random hot flashes from rewriting the book. She also still has scars from it, but they're super faint. You really only see them when she's standing in the sunlight. She also just has really bad knees and ankles but absolutely refuses to wear any shoe without a heel.

Gray and Natsu get under stimulated a lot when they're just travelling, so they make it a point to spar whenever they have a moment. It usually ends with them both getting scolded for going a bit too far.

Lucy still has her little quirk of wanting to collect more keys so anytime they travel somewhere, her first thing to do is find a magic shop and see if they have any. Most of the time she can't. A lot of shop masters tend to say that after the Grand Magic Games, celestial wizards started sprouting up out of nowhere, eager to learn more.

I want to believe that Wendy told Erza about Irene. Wendy felt a lot of guilt keeping it from her so after about a week that they first set out, she told Erza. Erza was more worried about what it meant for Wendy than anything cause wtf my mom that died is living in my basically little sister. It took Wendy a while to explain that it wasn't actually Irene, just her power.

Gray tends to space out whenever they're resting. No one really knows where his mind goes most of the time, but occasionally, he'll get the smallest smile and they'll know it's Juvia he's thinking about.

And for just a bit of Nalu angst, Natsu had a hard time looking at Lucy for a while. He knows Lucy takes a lot of pride in her looks so now that she has scars all over her body, he blames himself for them. She told him multiple times that they don't bother her and she takes a lot of pride in them herself. The scars are proof that she saved Natsu and that's all that matters for her. They slowly started to fade so now, he struggles to watch her stand in the sun. Lucy knows this and tends to make him look at her so he knows it's okay.

[lullaebies]

Not sure if you still want Jaehaegon prompts BUT a fic/drabble of the way Aegon III and Jaehaera both grieve specifically their mothers would go insane especially with your writing. Them being both extremely codependent yet unable to talk to the other about this one thing, the suppressed guilt, the waking nightmares Aegon would surely have of Jaehaera’s beloved father having his mother eaten alive right in front of him…plus the books say Rhaenyra was so dependent on having Aegon around 24/7 after she lost all her other children, how would that manifest in him now?

Have a really nice day!!!

a/n: ahhhhh i loved writing this prompt. it had been on my mind since i got it and i finally got time to tap into it (as well as other reqs that i'm slowly chipping into!). i hope you will enjoy this dear, and thank you so much for the compliments too <3 it ended up more about Aegon's experiences but there are touches on Jaehaera's side of things. I do write TG side of things more often though so he def deserves the focus I feel!

“Even while we are in the castle, you are not to leave me. Not for a moment, Aegon,” she says, tugging roughly on his hand. 

“Mother, I—�� he replies, frightened at the clutch of her grip. He first tries to escape, pull his arm away, but she holds him tighter while his legs try to match her pace. “Mother, it hurts!”

And her grip suddenly loosens. He nearly trips, on the sands of Dragonstone, the dunes he had once built castles with on this shore, with his brothers. Rhaenyra falls to her knees upon it, clutching him against her in an apologetic embrace. “I am sorry. I am sorry…” she swallows

He feels the very air of the island is awry, not the same, as her feet and dress bury into the sand. He holds her back, trying to keep her afloat, though his own throat is dry at what to say. Ser Alfred Broome and his men watching him made him both shy and chilled.

She runs a hand through his hair. “We shall see to that our home is safe, and stay safe, the two of us, yes?” 

Aegon is scared, feeling dwarved by the world, but his mother’s voice is begging, and his only offer to console her, as always, is to agree.

“...Yes—”

The earth beneath becomes hot, as the sun rises above Dragonstone, turning from yellow to gold. Its rays turn into flare, and the sand turns into glass. He screams for his mother to flee — but glass shatters, puncturing his throat as he screams.

He wakes up in cold sweat, his whole body trembling. He is alone on his side of the bed, and the wind blows harshly from the open window, but not enough to dispel the heat from his bones. As if possessed, he lifts himself up from the bed, eyes taking in the dark room.

“Aegon?” Jaehaera stands up. She had sat by a roaring fireplace, making the woods within it crack as they blacken. And for a moment, it is equal parts anxiety and betrayal, tears against the dam that are his silver lash line. His feet thunder before him, grabbing the golden pitcher of wine on their table, tossing it whole at the fireplace. Droplets from it scatter like tricklets of blood on the carpet. The fire sizzles as Jaehaera gasps, but it is not fully put out.

“It won’t disappear, it won’t disappear!” his low voice trembles. His breaths feel like fire courses up his throat, and he feels sick. On the brink of vomiting from disgust — his own home is not safe, his own body betraying him to become flame — he thinks Jaehaera too is running away from him, but soon enough, she finds a glass of water within their room to douse the remaining flame.

The room then darkens significantly. The moonlight remains, refusing to let him become blind for the end, but he closes his eyes, wanting to refuse to its will too. He is not burnt, but he feels fragile ash, left behind in the wind, falling to the floor.

In the complete silence that dominates the room, in the black escape of his closed eyes, he sees his mother, as though she has never left. He hadn’t been allowed to move an inch from her, until the very moment the beast had devoured her. The one moment he wanted to run to her, make her move. The fire devoured her, as did the dragon, but he remained behind, her shadow.

A shadow of a man remains today, too.

The utter quiet that he regains his mind in remains unbroken until he opens his eyes, doing his best to keep any tears unshed. Jaehaera doesn’t dare to move a step, her fingers curling around the empty glass of water as she watches him. His heart weakens again — he should’ve known not to be so helpless in the presence of women just as helpless as he.

Mother, I’m sorry, he wants to return to the dream, to say that to her instead. He cannot, but his wife is here.

“I…” it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t know how to begin. He doesn’t want to apologize, when he still feels his mother’s hold on him. But I shouldn’t have scared her, still, and yet again, if he does apologize, he’d have to explain why, to begin with. 

He and Jaehaera don’t speak of these things. For the better of them both, for the sake of their lost loved kin, for the sake of love not being lost again. She knows what had occurred on Dragonstone, as he knows what has occurred in King’s Landing. The histories will not forget, but they ever attempt to do so, regardless.

‘Tis be duty, for the very realm. He would say that to himself, again and again, until his own guilt creeps up on him. Reminding him so — that this is his sin, the need to cling to the daughter of the scorching sun, the last light.

Jaehaera puts away the cup, and approaches him with ghostly steps. If she had liked, she could thunder through the room. She could give him her known scowl and turn away. She could even leave with less than a whisper. Everything is imaginable, when they have went through all imaginable. As a little girl, he heard her weep more than he can count, even from the other side of Maegor’s Holdfast, but she’s no longer that little girl.

She lowers herself to her knees too, and reaches over to embrace him, guiding his head to occupy the crook of her neck. The stone floor is firm, but he feels himself sinking into her. His breaths grow wavering again.

“I’m sorry,” it finally comes out, those words and the tears, and the honest, brutal truth. “It won’t leave me,” he says. “That memory, my mother—” he stops himself, shutting his eyes hard.

It aches so deeply, and it tears him apart, him of the past and him of the future. In this present, this very moment, he doesn’t even know who he is at all. Doesn’t know how to talk, or explain, or do a thing but freeze in time, so afraid of fire.

Jaehaera holds him tighter. Her fingers move soothingly through the nearby white of his hair, when she finally allows herself to speak. “Do you remember the first time you held me?” she asks him. 

He swallows. He remembers, yes. One would expect it to be their first night, but it wasn’t. His first hold of her had been a full year prior, when she had been reduced to tears at a feast. Nothing of his machinations, but of his regents. Their planning, however, had not taken into account that that day had been the anniversary of his aunt Helaena’s death. Or perhaps they had, and only wished to overwrite the day’s meaning. 

Aegon hadn’t realized. Jaehaera had barely spoken a pip to him back then. But then she broke down in tears in the middle of the feast, and although he had been apt to ignore her from their distant rooms, he couldn’t quite ignore it then when The Queen fled the room, and everyone simply stood and watched.

None of his regents could hold him in his place, for the very principle he refuses to ever be reduced to a spectator by ‘loyal’ men. 

And so he went after her — and they were ever so clear with how she looked down the moat, and mumbled about ‘mum’. He had been there when her mother died; it connected quickly. There were no words he could dare speak. No matter how averse to touch he had been, his only way to answer her had been his arms coming around her, and letting her sob within them.

He assumed it would be a futile effort, as holding the hands of those who slowly passed from Winter Fever had been… but she cried until she fell asleep, until he had already been lulled by the night himself, and they both woke up the morning after to the sun’ touching them with only soft rays.

“I know what plagues you, as you know what plagues me,” Jaehaera tells him. “You held me when I cried for my kin and the past. You needed no explanation or clause to console me. I won’t ask it of you either,” she says. “‘It is enough reason to hold you, knowing you need to be held.”

Aegon gathers her in his arms, some will of strength returning to them. 

He can ask her to never leave his side. He can plead with her, that they have to make this home safe, to remain safe, the two of them. He can leave her with no choice but to agree, even if she is doubtful. He can — but he doesn’t think he has to. She knows, and he has reached a place where his belief in it, his own yes, is not laced with doubt.

Aegon closes his eyes, and lets himself weep until sleep overtakes him. Within his drowsiness, as his last tear falls, he can see his mother at the back of his mind, offering him a soft smile. The morning sun will wake him again, but there will be no scorching no more. His last light’s tight embrace assures it too.

[pandorasfavorite]

heyyyy can i request a dom x reader where you call him papi while yk and he fucks your brains out? thankssss

Hush

AN: he was giving daddy right here ^^^^

“I know baby, I know”, his voice squeaks in a uncharacteristic whine. You couldn’t help but slowing down the rapid movement of your hips to tease him to the brink of tears; just to take what’s yours. “Yea? It was kind of hard to tell when she landed on top of you”, you clenched around his aching cock making Dominik squirm. “Just…like…this”, you announced every word; taking every inch of him with ease. With your hands splayed carelessly against his check and your doe eyes blinking down at him, Dominik truly struggled to sit up.

With every bounce and breathless pant that spewed from your mouth; he felt closer to going insane and taking control. He felt as if he was about to explode; the warmth and smell of you captivating his entire existence in that very moment. Dominik’s throat constricts the second he feels you clench around him, therefore his resolve breaks. “Baby, baby I swear on everything I don’t even think about her…fuckkkk just like that Mami”, his head tilts back and his fingers press indents into your hips.

Dominik looked and felt spent, his hair was sticking to his forehead and his cock was leaking precum so deep inside of you that his main thought was to fill you up with all of his cum… to brand you as his. Dominik’s eyes rolled back as your tongue slid into his mouth, his mind still reeling over the idea of you pregnant with his kid. His mouth could barely begin to even move against yours with the same vigor. Instead it was the same repetitive grunt and his fumble of dirty words.

“I wanna cum inside”, his eyes opened while pulling back from your glossy lips, “please please sweetheart, let me cum, full you up till your fucking pregnant”. He swallowed roughly and moved his hands to cup your breasts firmly, “want these huge and leaking, come on princesa, make me a papi”. Your mouth fell open with an offhand moan, from the way he begged for responsibility…for devotion to you. But most of all from the way his cock pulsed and twitched at the idea. Your head fell forehead and you caught his eye, not daring to stop the roll of your hips despite how close you felt to coming undone on his cock; your voice cracked, “what about Liv?”.

Dominik’s eyes darkened, “don’t even say her name, say mine” his tongue licked at his bottom lip, “say it” he whispered a demand to be followed. You laid against him, stopping all movement and just feeling him inside of you, “make me cum papi”. Dominik gasped and spilled into you instantly with a strangled moan, “holy fuck, shit girl that’s- that’s”. He tossed his head back; not bothering to move inside you; though he was still half hard inside of you. The ringing of you muttering papi in his ear keeping him hard for you.

You merely giggled at the boyish display; not expecting him to fall apart immediately. “You like that papi?”, you wiggled against his cock; Dominik dug his nails into your hips without meaning to. A disgruntled groan falling from his lips once more, “I won’t last long if you keep that up” he warns and jolts his hips up. Your body bounces as the tip of his cock brushes that special place inside of you.

Dominik takes control and rolls you onto your back, “that’s the idea, hurry up so I can cum”. Dominik wasted no time, slamming his cock far inside of you, your body jumping and jolting with every smack of his hips against your ass. Within minutes you felt the burning sensation within the bottom of your stomach, Dominik knew well enough to rub your clit with thumb. You come undone moaning his name then a soft, “feel good papi?” You ask innocently; knowing well and good how that made Dominik.

He sunk into you; so deep his cum didn’t spill out of you at all. Just the way he wanted

[thepeaklegendoffirstgen]

You Fill My Void

Being “The strongest” was not just a matter of pride and prestige but came with its own set of responsibilities and baggage for which you don’t need the six eyes to notice.

Gojo Satoru deemed the strongest sorcerer of the Modern Era was staring at the night sky before the battle that will shape the Jujutsu Society and the way forward. Right after getting out of the prison realm and declaring war was not how Gojo thought things would pan out. Having lost numerous comrades, colleagues and the situation of his students, to say Jujutsushi is for crazy people would be an understatement. Pushing yourself to the absolute brink of insanity with your best friend’s dead body stolen, your absence sending shock waves across the whole world and you deciding to fight the strongest sorcerer in history would be the apt way to sum up the life of a sorcerer. They all are calling the upcoming fight as “the Strongest Sorcerer of history vs. the Strongest Sorcerer of today”. Strongest, really? In his teenage he use to say this word so nonchalantly it felt as natural as breathing. But that might be because he wasn’t the strongest alone, there was his best friend Suguru Geto to shoulder this burden. Heck, it wasn’t even a burden when Suguru was around. And all that bliss of power came crashing down with Riko Amanai’s death. They were no longer the strongest, it was his title, his responsibility, his powers, his abilities that you could associate the word ‘Strongest’ to. Everyone around Gojo thought that he had achieved Nirvana and is the new-age Buddha of the Jujustu World. This not only lead him to build walls that were impenetrable more than infinity there were even cracks in his friendship with Geto. This formed a gaping void in his heart for not only he was growing distant from the closest person to him but his presence was now merely reduced to that of a weapon. He was no longer Gojo Satoru, he was Gojo Satoru who is the Strongest. The one because of whom the Star Plasma vessel couldn’t merge with Tengen sama, the one who has to take his murderer’s son under his wing, the one who couldn’t save his best friend because he is only human and the only we can actually help are the ones who are willing to accept the help.

The straw that broke the camel’s back wasn’t Suguru’s defection it was the sick and twisted way his body was used even after his death that led to not only his downfall but the Jujutsu’s Society as a whole. Moments like these made him question his title but Gojo being Gojo was quick to shrug them under the rug.

And before he can further spiral into these what-if scenarios the miko teacher pulls him from the tide.

‘Ugh, Gojo you are going to fight the king of curses tomorrow call it a day already.’, Utahime chimed as it was getting late and of course proper rest was important to fight the King of Curses.

Gojo in his sing song voice goes ‘Someone as weak you cannot go around giving me orders, Utahimeeee’. That sends a wave of fury across the Kyoto teacher because even in this tense situation he hasn’t got rid of his teasing. It’s right old habits die hard. Utahime has just been a dwarf planet in the orbit of the STAR Gojo Satoru. Just merely existing on the fringes but existing nonetheless. Even after 12 years of high school Utahime's constant reprimand to respect her as an elder and his constant teasing has been a source of respite from this cursed world. The void in Gojo’s soul is as hollow as ever but a moment like this eases him a bit or so he thought with the looming threat of battle with Sukuna still hanging at the back of his mind.

Utahime scolds again “Gojo for god sake listen to me once in your life!” He now gives his undivided attention to her noticing that she is giving him her teacher look. “You have a very very crucial fight tomorrow. Stop goofing off.” Noticing the barely concealed frown on his face she goes on “I know you said you will win but still resting for a few hours won’t hurt your ego, dammit. You are not just the strongest but also a teacher, mentor, friend, and colleague. And as much as we want you to finish this all we also want you to return back safely. So listen to me!”

He is caught off-guard for a moment. The ever grumpy Utahime Iori is worried about him how sweet. He is about to pass another teasing remark before he notices the look on Utahime’s face. It’s beautiful he has always thought she is so very beautiful but right now it looks so tragic. It looks like the heavens are singing but they are singing for someone’s funeral. So he swallows hard and says “Right, Utahime sensei is always looking out for others so I am going to respect her care. But once I will beat Sukuna’s ass I will no longer be your servant Utahime.”He laughs like a child who just got candy out of nowhere. The gaping void begins to fill a little bit like tiny drops of water eventually meeting in the ocean but alas there is no ocean only a drought full of scars, betrayals, and hurt over the years.

Utahime admires this serenity. Even though it’s the calm before the storm she likes to take in his every feature. How his ivory lashes touch his cheek when he genuinely laughs, the dimple in his left cheek, and those ocean blue eyes how they light up with true happiness. Gojo notices her intense stare and with the bitter thoughts plaguing his mind he comes across a little rough “What are you staring at?” Utahime smiles again it’s pretty but so sad “You will win, right?” Gojo scoffs “Of course, After all, I am the strongest. But wait are you going to miss me if by 0.0001% I am gone?” She knows he is is teasing and trying to push her buttons but her honest confession lights up something in him “Yes, and after Sukuna is gone I can have you all to myself no longer the burden to prove you are the strongest and no threat looming us”. His jaw almost drops but Satoru Gojo is beyond such display of emotions not when he is unsure whether he is going to win or not, not when he is unsure whether to let her droplets of affection fill his void of heart since love is always a losing game for him.

But with a gentle squeeze of her calloused hands, he finds it so comforting he places his forehead against her and expresses wholeheartedly “I will win”. For Gojo Satoru, Utahime Iori might be a dwarf planet but the only planet that can penetrate his voidful infinity.