#top/bottom dynamics

[icarustica]

some smutty one-liners i've never put in anything that i would LOVE to see someone use:

"it's not right to want the things i want from you"

2) "would it be too crass to say i want you to come on my glasses?"

3) "but you're so pretty when you beg. why wouldn't i just keep going and going and... going?"

4) "i need a hero"

5) "let's play a game: don't get caught."

6) "oh, no no no. no matter how much you beg, you're still not ready - let's wait another night."

7) "you know i can't say no to you when you're like... oh, fuck. like this."

8) "first one to come loses."

9) "quit playing."

10) "do you trust me?" "if i didn't i wouldn't be here."

11) "did you think i was done? oh, no. this is about you, baby, and i can make you come again."

[theoperativeif]

Whose a top and whose a bottom?

[oobbbear]

I want to post this here too because I’ve seen it happen a few times

Please understand that there are cultural differences and language differences, if you see this happening let the person clarify what they meant, that person might just not be familiar with words the western side of the internet use

[babygirlbondage]

listen i know my dick is made of silicone and she doesnt have a womb but im sure im just not trying hard enough and if i cum in her ass enough i can breed transfems

[butch-with-a-deep-voice]

Fellow tops out there. Anyone else get the need to just completely envelop their bottom? Just go completely primal and wrap as much of yourself around them as you bury your strap/cock as deep into them as possible. As much skin contact as is physically possible as you thrust deeper and deeper. Where the only way closer you could get is if your bodies melted together, and even then you'd keep fucking them in a state of pure carnal bliss. Where you stop being you, you are simply a top, put there to lose yourself in your bottom, and for them to lose themselves in you. To keep them so close it almost hurts as you cum, pumping every last bit of your very being into them. Holding them there for what feels like an eternity after because they are yours and you are theirs, and in that brief yet beautiful moment, you are one. Anyone? No? Just me?

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I feel like, Young!Pathetic!Konig would do REALLY well with a Older!Lady-Cougar!Reader, She's maybe been divorced twice and looking ta maybe become widowed this time? May-haps her current hubby has wealth and power but is a few screws short of being a good man towards our poor reader, and there's that Pesky prenup that makes it so she won't get ANYTHING in a divorce...buuuttt if the bastard has a bit of an....*Oopsie doodle*.... Maybe she's looking for someone to take care of her problem, and maybe she likes this young soldier boy, whose all too happy to help with *whatever needs* she might have? Likes how desperate he is for just her hand on his arm, likes how he's on his need begging for just a *taste* Likes that she can teach him how to please a woman, how to make her moan like no lover before....Likes how willing he is to kill the man she's married too...

Asfdf my brain short circuited ❤️ I know I said somewhere that I don’t write cheating but if it’s cheating a bad man with an even worse man König….

CW: 18+ MDNI. Age difference, F!dom/M!sub undertones, praise kink, cheating (your husband is an old dick), mating press & other shenanigans, murder & mentions of blood, König is a lovesick yandere in the making.

It was just one night.

Just one night to satiate your needs because your husband for sure never takes care of them.

But then the young pup you picked off from the pub pops into your workplace next week... With a large bouquet of flowers in his hand and a box of chocolate in the other, your desperate little “detour” looks like a boy who just got laid for the first time in his life.

“König…” you sigh and pull him to an empty breakroom before all your colleagues see you’ve cheated on your beloved husband with a man at least ten years younger than you.

“You can’t be here,” you start, trying to ignore the happy, greedy stares this little—big—soldier gives you.

He’s all the equal to his alias, looking like a king in the making with those wide shoulders and that fierce stare. But his hands are shaking, he guides those eyes to the floor as he puts the gifts on the table littered with crumbs and coffee stains, switches his weight from one foot to the other once you start to tell him how it is.

He listens dutifully as you try to explain how it was only one night, that he was incredibly lovely and you had so much fun but that you can’t see each other anymore. It was wrong of you to do so in the first place, you’re married, and you’re so, so sorry... You were just so sad and lonely.

You tell him he’s a good man. That he’ll find someone special, some lovely girl to call his own. He will find someone who can give him what he wants, someone who will cover him with kisses for bringing her flowers and sweets.

You try to explain it to him even as you get slowly chased into a corner, you try to tell him what a catch he is even when you get pinned to the wall by a hard, lean chest.

You try to tell him that he’s the perfect man for some other girl even when he pulls your strings aside and bullies his cock inside you.

One minute is all it takes as he huffs and groans and fucks you against the wall, your moans and his grunts barely muffled by shirts and fists and lips and skin. There’s lipstick on his clean, white shirt after he’s done with you, teeth marks where his shoulder meets his neck, a spittle of cum on your skirt as he pulls it down with shaky hands.

“Sorry,” he murmurs in your ear. “I just had to see you. I missed you so much...”

Your cunt is what he missed, any woman could see that. Got a taste of it last weekend and wouldn’t let you leave his place at all; a small, miserable flat of 25 square meters, with burned rice on the stove and a thin, cum-stained mattress on the floor. He fucked you on that mattress, four times because on the fifth attempt to part your shaking thighs, you told this horny lad you need to go home.

“I know, big boy. I missed you too. But you need to go now,” you say to your pretty lover. Ugly but pretty, in his own way, his utter lack of cruelty is what makes him beautiful in your eyes.

“I don’t want to,” he dares to argue back and claims your mouth, kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before.

“You have to,” you moan. “König–”

“I love you.”

You’re huffing, panting into each other’s throats as you realize he’s even younger than you thought. Fell in love with your cunt so easily, this big runt, thinks it’s meant to be just because you’re wet and he’s hard.

“Don’t be silly,” you huff and look at the drowsy smile, the messy state of this lovesick man before you fight your way out of his lap.

You want to cry, wail, scream from the injustice. Where was this silly young golden retriever six months ago? Why didn’t you meet him when you were single and sweet? Now you’re trapped in an unhappy marriage with some old fool who was cunning enough to trick you into a ludicrous deal with him. The prenupt you discovered only later, after he swore that you wouldn’t have to work a day in your life and that everything that belonged to him would be yours one day. In reality, you’ve had to beg for every crumb, act the part of a trophy wife who also has to work herself to death. And he won’t even fuck you, only wants you to massage his back and his cock while you’re left all alone without love, without a single kind word.

But König never lets you go: not in a way you beg him to, no, he always shows up at your door. Sneaks into your lonely room from the window, licks you to ruin while you laugh and tell him no, fucks you three times a night, crawls under the bed when a cleaning lady almost catches you two. He shows up at cafes, restaurants, conferences, parties, everywhere where you go but your husband won’t.

He’s so reckless that you have to teach him to be more patient, more gentle. You guide his fingers and his head, even his cock, while locking your eyes with his so that he knows when he’s doing it right. You praise him for a good, unhurried fuck, cup his face and kiss him when he gives it to you nice and slow. Anyone can see he'd want to ram it in until there’s nothing left of him and you, but you kiss and kiss and kiss him until the poor boy moans and cums without permission, just from that tiny taste of intimacy and love.

He gets pets, smooches and caresses, blowjobs that leave him shaking and breathless on the bed. He looks like he has no brains left after you’re done with him, looks a little helpless when you climb on top of him and help yourself with his cock after he only just came.

He’s always up in no time, especially if you tell him he did well. Stares at you and your breasts like you’re a vision from heaven, drools on them once when you won’t let him have a lick. Mopes when you laugh at his predicament, and won’t stop brooding even when you give him a kiss on the tip of his nose.

But he’s never mad at you for long, not if you call him sweetie or your silly apple crumb, not if you let him fall asleep in your bed, partly on top of you. There’s always a wet spot on your back if he’s the big spoon, he begs you to sleep naked as he does, says it’s better for your health and then teases you with his fingers come morning, probably thinking he’s so very clever. Takes you to the theater and offers you expensive port wine and cake, tells you how to steal a car, how to shoot any gun. Gives you a hungry kiss in public when you tell him he has to act like he’s your cousin from abroad, vanishes for weeks to his training, sends letters instead of texts, and tells you he’s going to be a big boss someday.

It’s hard to imagine this serious but silly mess as an intimidating officer, not even when you know he has the size and looks for it. He’s too innocent and needy, doesn't know how the real world works yet. Thinks he’s immortal just because he’s young...

There’s a certain darkness in him, and you mistake it for the remnants of some turbulence of his teenage years, just some wrath of a boy who never got what he wanted. Who wouldn’t be a little pissed and impatient in their twenties? He probably doesn’t even know what he wants: hell, you don’t know what you want.

“Like this...?” He asks demurely when he lifts your knees to your ears and sinks his cock into you inch by inch, carefully as if it’s the first time you’re making love.

“Just like that,” you whisper as he spreads you so wide you can’t even breathe, fills you up deliciously, like no one else before. His eyes never leave you, not even when he uses your hole as a place to bury himself and all his bad memories, not even when he makes you squirt like you’re nothing but an oasis in a desert that never ends.

But you know he comes to you for other things than just that.

He comes to you for kind words, breathy praise, soft touches and ruffles of his hair. He comes to you for practice and to get his sense of self in order. He’s your pretty knight in shining armor when others have called him ugly, he’s your strong bull when others have ridiculed his disproportionate limbs. He’s your safe haven, your sunshine, your crazy, silly man, your soldier and your savior, and he soaks up your love and attention like a sponge: every drop gets gulped down like he’s a man dying of thirst. He doesn’t take sips, he doesn’t know how to, and you on the other hand don’t know how to quench the raging drought inside him, long after yours has been satiated.

You sleep like Romeo and Juliet just before their death, and fuck like rabbits in the spring. He takes you in the car, in the closet, in the toilet, in other people’s beds, even at the alley one night.

“I love you,” he always says after he has spilled his cum – it’s like a ritual or a prayer, and you always reach for the baby hairs of his neck in return, and give them the gentlest caress.

“I love you too,” you whisper one night – it just slips when you stroke his cheek. It never comes as a surprise that he gives you the most miserable pair of puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

He knows about your situation, knows enough that you’re trapped and unhappy. But you never knew he saw you as a victim. If anything, you feel like he’s the victim here. Poor boy, saving what little he has for a future with some woman who knows nothing about true love... You’re not the one for him, you’re not even a silly little sex kitten any young soldier would want to play with. You’re just some bored, abandoned wife who wants to feel something, mean something to someone. But you love him enough to know that you’ll let him go when he wants to move on. As bitter as it makes you feel, you know you’ll give him to someone younger and more beautiful, someone who will love as passionately as he does. Anything to make him truly happy.

But the next evening, König doesn’t climb in through your window. He uses the door, the inside door, and you jump from the bed and hurry to him in your nightgown, the only gift your husband ever gave you.

“I killed him for you,” he says, your soldier boy from Austria, your good, good boy with a good, big cock.

You only now see that his hands are stained in blood, and nothing shakes anymore: your wannabe sniper is as calm as ever when he confesses he’s murdered someone.

“...What?”

He comes to you and cups your face, the blood on his hands both wet and cold. You’ve never seen him so peaceful, not even after he’s had a good fuck. The boy who no one ever loved has turned into a man, but what kind of man… You shiver in his clutch, unsure if you’re about to suffer a heart attack from fear or love.

“He didn’t suffer... Much,” he says, his cracked lips only a breath away from yours. “Knives can be messy…”

You gulp while staring into the deep, dark abyss of his eyes, the innocent baby blue nearly swallowed by the darkest of all loves.

This is not how you thought things would go… You were supposed to give the old man the finger and divorce during the summer. Put your finances in order so that you can escape. Maybe fuck König on the side and see if he’s still the man of your dreams once you’re happily divorced.

Now he’s telling you you’ll marry as soon as possible, or that if you want a summer wedding, he can wait a few months… He tells you you have nothing to worry about, he won’t go to jail, not this time. He’ll take care of you now; he just got promoted. You don’t ever have to be sad again.

“Don’t worry, my love,” he says when all words have finally escaped you. “Now we can be together. Forever…”

[myfandomhalf]

Just came across a post of someone screaming to use the right aventio/ratiorine ship name depending on what top/bottom dynamic you like and I would just like to go on record and say I had no idea that was a thing and I think it’s stupid and I say aventio because it’s cuter than ratiorine and I will continue to say aventio thanks for coming to my ted talk

[gunstellations]

double trouble

[n30draws]

top Fizz agenda 😔✊

[icarustica]

more smut prompts since y'all loved the last ones <3 <3

1: i like being the only person who knows you're like this behind closed doors...

2: everything on you i bought and paid for. i think that means i own you too.

3: can you make sure i'll taste it tomorrow?

4: you're prettier with your mouth shut.

5: there's something so hot about you begging for your dignity back.

6: if you're going to chase me like that, fucking get on your knees and beg.

7: you can come anytime you want, sweetheart, it'll just cost you later.

8: in public? naughty. oh, what, you were just teasing? hmm... teasing has consequences.

9: please, i'll be so good, i'll be so quiet, i just need it--

10: keep your eyes on me, baby. i do love it when you cry.

[violetdisasterzone]

I think we all know by now that I'm a pretty staunch canon purist, but one fandom thing I really don't understand is the insistence of people who prefer Hua Cheng and Luo Binghe to be bottoms that their preference is subversive, and that those ships' canon dynamics are the more non-subversive, "heteronormative" dynamics. like okay.. definitely more subversive for the god to top his believer and for a teacher to top his student, sure. and while in hualian, Xie Lian in general seems to be the more feminine one (though these same people also hate/dispute that, so maybe this point wouldn't even matter to them), Luo Binghe is the crybaby feminine pretty-boy between bingqiu. Binghe and Hua Cheng also both favor care-taking as a primary expression of their love, with Binghe especially pretty much taking on the role of househusband, doing the cleaning and cooking, etc. regardless of the fact that queer couples can't be heteronormative, how many times am I going to have to say that, their sexual dynamics are ALREADY subversive in lots of ways, just based on their inherent characteristics and each couple's history/past power dynamic with their respective partners.

it's fine to have a preference for a certain dynamic, or for your ships to switch, or whatever you want. but this new thing people have for making sure THEIR preferences and THEIR ships are the most moral and politically correct and subversive as possible is so tired. you don't have to justify everything you like.

I hope I don't need to say this but if you're going to respond to this arguing with me, I don't want to hear it! I'm not here to engage in discourse I'm here to yap from the comfort of my own blog, thanks <3

[twinksintrees]

top dazai but only if it’s power bottom chuuya

[babygirlbondage]

i have a tendency to overthink so someone should fuck me til my brain shuts off to fix this

[louisredsuit]

I think it’s notable that after episode one, we only see loustat sharing louis’ coffin. even before lestat’s is destroyed, lestat sneaks into louis’ coffin, even though it’s smaller, even though there’s no reason why louis couldn’t crawl in with him. their most intimate moments always take place in louis’ domain.

I think sex is one of the only parts of their relationship that louis feels he has control over. lestat always wants it, so louis always has leverage. he can withhold it as punishment or indulge as a reward. louis’ self denial hurts him too, but he’s used to it. unlike his hedonist husband, he’s mastered the art of repression.

louis and lestat are caught in a classic domestic drama, and lestat controls access to the world outside. he’s got the money and the mistresses and the ability to move through the world unencumbered by racism. louis only controls access to himself. withholding that access is the only way he knows how to assert his power.

that’s why the sex scene in ep7 demonstrates how completely lost louis is in his relationship with lestat. he’s given up that last thread of control. he’s unable to deny lestat, even though it makes him uncomfortable to have claudia in his head during this intimate moment.

it all comes back to who really has the power — the one who desires or the object of desire. lestat’s desires drive their life, but ultimately, louis determines whether those desires are fulfilled. it’s the only leverage he feels he has.

[esoterictboy]

a girl friend who calls my apartment the “no clothes zone” and whenever she comes over strips by the door and won’t put any clothes so when we hug I can hear her choke back a moan cause her nipples catch against the soft fabric of my shirt and when I ask her to cuddle she lays so she can grind against me bc it feels so good on her clit and sometimes we’ll wrestle so I can show her how strong I am so her legs are in the air and I can see everything and she gets embarrassed but I can see she’s getting wet

[meraki-yao]

Random RWRB question that crossed my head

So in the book it's made clear that Henry's one year older than Alex, which I would say is somewhat reflected in their dynamic as well

But in the movie both of them are aged up (ergo kind of more mature)

Plus Taylor's three years older than Nick, and that's reflected in their own off-screen dynamic too

So do we think movie Henry is still the older one or?