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frankcastlescumslut · 1 year

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my girl

frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI!!! mentions of alcohol consumption, roleplay-ish, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, soft dom!frank, degradation/praise kink, “daddy” and “sir”, overstimulation, squirting, breeding kink, cockwarming if you squint, little aftercare

summary: the game: no touching allowed

A/N: omg hey 🙈 it’s been a while! but I’m back! this is pure filth and I’m not ashamed! we all know Frank Castle would talk you through it!

COMMENTS/REBLOGS/LIKES ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND WELCOMED <;3

DONT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY SHIT.

It was one of those nights.

The kind where you and Frank attempted to pull your heads out of your asses after a shitty week and have fun for once.

He would argue that his version of fun was only found with a gun in his hand or kevlar strapped to his chest, and he truly meant it at one point, but that was before you, his girl, and he would do anything for his girl— even if it meant indulging you in your own fanatical definition of entertainment.

Your idea of fun, however, was a shitty dive bar that smelled like stale beer, wearing skimpy dresses that you found in adult stores, and pretending like you had never seen Frank a day in your life, imagining he was some hot shot trying to show you a good time.

It started off as a game. Frank didn’t get it at first, struggling with the idea that “pretending” wasn’t lying, it’s not lying, Frank. I still love you. It’s just a game, you have to convince me to come back home with you, but eventually it became a different challenge entirely— it was now healthy competition between the two of you, seeing who could last the longest without touching one another.

And it was one of those nights where you played dirty.

Wearing nothing but a silk slip that left nothing to the imagination and crotchless panties, you expertly navigated around the bar while the music bewitched you, leading you in different directions and drawing men towards your magnetic pull.

It didn’t take much for men to pay attention to you. You knew that, but more importantly, Frank knew that, and he was painfully aware of how alluring you were.

It was all fair game, and he let you have your fun, only finding comfort in knowing that he was the only one who could shove his face into your chest and cunt. That he was the only one that would take you home and pull moans out of you like it was his job. That he was the only one who could bury and empty himself into you and you would take all of it, because you were his girl.

Frank was more possessive than he led on, but it was the only consolation he had while playing your game. He ignored the few stray women that eventually found their way to him with ease. He didn’t enjoy their attention, it almost disgusted him, but he did appreciate the way your jealousy manifested itself.

You knew it was a game, that the blonde woman meant nothing to him, but the jealousy turned you into something else completely.

The envy mixed into the final swig of your drink and went down easily as it burned the back of your throat. The liquid courage warmed you enough to move, and you shuffled down from your perched stool with a fire stirring in your belly.

It wasn’t your fault that your purse conveniently fell from your shoulder, or the way your dress rose above your ass when you bent over to retrieve it, revealing your crotchless panties to the patrons of the bar. It also wasn’t your fault for the dog whistles that pierced through the music, the droopy eyed stares, or the coughing fit that Frank fell victim to as he choked on his beer.

You could practically taste victory, unable to hide the smirk that plastered against your cheeks as you collected your belongings, turning to face him. The win, however, was short lived, and your face fell when you caught his eye, unable to read his darkened expression.

Whether it was the churning alcohol or growing need between your thighs, you found the confidence to hold his gaze, paying attention to the way he slammed his beer back.

Fuck.

The game was over, that much was clear, and your heart hammered against your chest. Maybe you had gone too far this time. Maybe the panties were too much. Maybe he would understand if you apologized and forfeited this time. Maybe—

Fuck.

For a moment, you swore you faced the Punisher. He grew in size and stature, towering over you as he straightened, the random woman falling off of him in return. He was unreadable, almost threatening, but his façade flickered as he subtly nodded towards the door.

Fuck.

The tension was palpable. It practically trailed your wobbly stride as you found your way out of the bar, hiccuping down your anxiety. Frank followed your lead, silently stalking behind you. His presence was looming, and the silence was baiting your wanton anticipation.

“Frank,” you broke character, turning to face him.

His stride never faltered, and he beat you to the truck. “Frank, wait.”

“Ladies first.” The truck door swung open with a creak as Frank all but pulled it from its hinges, eager to usher you into your place.

You must’ve looked uneasy, tottering on the balls of your feet, and he took note of your lip tucked between your teeth.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you with a wink, holding out his hand to help you into your seat.

Yellow street lights hid the warmth in your cheeks as you softened beneath Frank’s gentleness, and you couldn’t help but hide a smirk as you made a final attempt to claim the last word at your own game.

The hem of your dress tickled the back of your thighs as you attempted to climb into the truck, only pausing to pull the rest of your dress over your hips. It was a lousy move given the circumstances— you pretending to busy yourself while exposing your dripping cunt for anyone in the parking lot to see, but you knew it would rile him up in a way that would benefit the both of you. Eventually.

“C’mon now, sweetheart,” Frank groaned at the sight before him, his own pants growing tighter while he studied the way your core glistened.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you quipped innocently. “I’m just looking for my phone.” You spread your legs ever so slightly, silently inviting him to have his way with you.

“That right?” He drew closer with slow, deliberate steps, knowing how much you enjoy the anticipation. It was exciting, and he was so close, and you were offering yourself to him, and the act was slipping…

“Cause I thought maybe it could be in here?” You jump as your purse lands in front of your face with a thud, bouncing in the driver's seat.

“Huh,” you let out an amused chuckle before Frank fit himself against your spread legs, a small gasp escaping your lips as he pressed himself into you, his bulge hitting your clit directly. “Probably is,” you whimpered, dropping your head as a silent thanks to the truck for providing a welcomed new height and angle.

“Probably is?” He questioned, his voice startling as his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. He’s careful not to kiss you fully, not wanting to break the rules of your game, and he forces his arms to land on either side of you, caging you beneath him.

You felt his chest heave against your back and you smile to yourself, relishing in your ability to unravel the Punisher, but the victory is short lived; he unfurls himself from your bent form before delicately pulling your dress back down to cover your ass.

“C’mon.” His palm landed against your supple flesh and you yelped at the unexpected contact. “Let me take you home.”

“I win!” You exclaimed, nearly hitting your head on the inside of the truck.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side with a loose smile.

“I win!” You twisted in your seat to face him, your smile radiating in the dark. “You touched me first. I win.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He playfully shut the door in your face and you laugh, watching his lip curl into a smile as he fakes his own disappointment.

The door to your bedroom thudded against your weight, the doorknob rattling as you blindly maneuvered your way into your room.

“Frank,” you moaned into his mouth, pulling him impossibly close while stumbling towards your bed. The mattress dipped below your combined weight, Frank hovering over your sprawled frame.

Your hands traveled the length of his body, studying every contour of muscle like you would lose him if he pulled away. “Touch me,” you whispered, catching him by surprise.

“Aht aht,” he laughs into your neck at your demand, his lips attaching to your steady pulse. “You know the rules, babydoll. You gotta finish first before I can touch you.”

“But,” you attempt to refute your own rules.

“You wanna act like a big girl? You can make yourself cum.” He places deliberate kisses down your neck, taking extra care to suck on your delicate skin. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

It was so patronizing, the condescension sweet and sticky and so contrasting from the way he cradled your head, stroking your hairline before planting a kiss to your temple.

“Yes sir,” you submit willingly, whining when he peels himself away from you.

“Atta girl, you can do it,” he encourages you before settling on his side, adjusting comfortably into your mattress.

His eyes widened as you lifted yourself from the bed, pulling the billowy silk off of your frame before throwing it in his direction. You played into your short-lived victory, tracing your fingertips alongside the curves of your body and cupping your breasts together, letting a moan escape as your fingers brushed your hardened nipples.

It was obvious your ministrations affected Frank, and you watched as he pulled at his jeans, clearing his throat to conceal his grunt.

As much as you loved his response to your body, you can’t help but notice the way your breath catches in your throat while you watch him palm himself through the rough denim. It was a silent invitation for you to do the same, finally realizing how agonizing the ache in between your thighs had grown.

The elastic band of your barely there panties hadn’t made it around your fingers before Frank interrupted.

“Leave 'em on,” he huffed a laugh. “Ain’t hiding shit anyway.”

Your cheeks flushed at his enthusiasm, and you sheepishly found your place on the bed, your bare back resting against the headboard. It was only then when you realized how exposed you truly were, and you pressed your thighs together for some semblance of modesty.

“What’s the matter?” he teased. “You nervous or somethin’?”

“Mhm,” you nod your head, stifling a moan when your thighs instinctively clench together, adding just enough pressure against your already sensitive clit.

“Funny,” he chuckled, “cause you sure as hell weren’t shy before.” He was right, and you knew it, your skin consequently growing warm as he spotlighted your cheap plays at winning. “So go on,” he continues, “show me how a pretty whore like you wants to be touched.”

The expletive took you by surprise, but you obeyed shamelessly. Eagerly. Spreading your legs open as an offering to the man who watched just a few feet away as your fingers dipped between your thighs, pressing gently against your clit.

“Fuck,” you moaned, your lip finding its place between your teeth.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Frank cooed towards you, his tongue darting across his bottom lip while his eyes flash between your scrunched face and drenched fingertips.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“What was that?” He goaded.

“Yes, daddy,” you correct yourself. “Feels… so good.”

He moaned alongside you, grunting as he pulled himself out of the confines of his pants. You watched unabashedly as he spit into his palm before pumping his already weeping cock, the sight only pushing you closer towards your orgasm.

You made no attempts at hiding your pleasure.

“Fuck,” you whined, grinding your hips as your fingers circled your clit.

“There you go, that’s it,” Frank matched your pace, stroking his length as he spurred you on. “That’s my good girl, makin’ that pussy feel so good for daddy.”

“It feels so good,” your head fell against the headboard with a thud, but you hardly noticed. His gaze felt like fire creeping up your body as he studied you with anticipation. “I’m close,” you squeaked.

“Yeah? You’re doin’ so good, pretty girl,” he praised.

Your fingers worked tirelessly as you chased the familiar feeling, and you held your breath as the pressure grew.

“Attagirl, look at you. Just like that,” he bit his own lip while fisting his cock. “Be a good girl and cum for me.

“I’m gonna cum,” you croak out, too busy concentrating on the budding climax to notice the way Frank savored your rising chest and your fingers working your dripping cunt.

“That’s it, cum for daddy.”

It was overwhelming and you were unprepared for his attention, all but crying out as he expertly ran a thick finger between your folds before plunging into you. He hooked himself to your core while manually pulling your orgasm from your body, never breaking a steady rhythm.

“Fuck, don’t stop!” Your body stiffened and you held onto Frank’s forearm as your pleasure uncoiled and gushed from your core.

There was no time to process what happened or to even catch your breath; he clasped onto your ankles, pulling you closer to him before he delved into your wetness, collecting all of you on his tongue, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit.

“Frank!” you jumped at the sensitivity.

“Taste so good sweetheart,” he adjusted accordingly, continuing his languid strokes and moaning into the taste of your pussy.

You can’t help but ride out your high and grind against his tongue as he laps up the remnants of your orgasm, shuddering at each flick of his tongue against your clit.

It was too much and not enough all at the same time. He was close, but you needed him closer.

“I want you,” you reached down, pulling him to your lips. He moaned as your teeth nipped and sucked at his lower lip, savoring the taste of your arousal.

“What’s that?” He baited you, all but ripping his clothes from his body.

“I, fuck-“ you moaned as he lightly tapped his heavy cock against your swollen nub before trailing himself through your folds. “I want you, Frankie.”

“You do?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“I don’t really believe you, sweet girl,” he softened ever so slightly at the name, and you almost believed he would be merciful and indulge you, but his jaw tightened and his expression hardened in front of you. “Beg for it.”

Although deserved, it was a cruel, cruel punishment.

“I want you to fuck me,” you began, jutting your hips towards his cock sliding against you. “I want you to use me.”

He moaned at that— the way you submitted yourself to him, spreading your legs further apart to tease him into submission, waiting for him to break.

“I want you to fill me up and make me yours,” you snaked your hand between your bodies and guided his cock into your drenched cunt.

A hiss filled the room as he buried himself into you in one motion, and you groaned at the sudden sensation. He met your every need and ache, leaving you breathless and with double vision. Completely entranced by the delicious fullness.

“This what you wanted?” He growled into your ear, his body hovering over yours as he thrusted with precision. “Wanted me to use you like a good little slut?”

Your response was guttural, and you grabbed onto any part of him, pulling him in for more, more, more.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” his lips brushed the soft curve of your neck. “Like that pussy was just made for me, ain’t that right?”

Of course it was right, every fiber of your being screamed out for him. He was insatiable, and it would never be enough.

“S-so good,” you stuttered through chattering teeth, attempting to focus your gaze on his face. “Feels so good, you feel so good.”

“God, look at you,” he cooed. “Already fucked out, huh? Have you had enough, sweetheart?”

You almost said yes; each thrust of his hips was a coordinated attack against your g spot, and you were debilitated, barely able to conjure words, let alone sentences.

“No,” you mustered. “Need you to use me, please.”

His brows creased together, your request causing him to teeter towards his own pleasure.

“You’re doin’ so good for me. Takin me like such a good girl,” he spit on his fingers before rubbing circles over your clit. “Want you to cum with me. Can you do that?”

“Mhm,” you didn’t think it was possible, but dammit you would try. You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to draw the scattered pieces of your brain together to revel in his movements, becoming pliable in his hands.

“That’s it,” he grunted, enjoying the sight of his length disappearing into your dripping pussy. “Takin’ me so well, that’s my girl.”

You moaned at his praise, relishing in the way he claimed you both physically and verbally. He knew you were close, and you knew he was closing in on his precipice. He could feel the way you pulsed around him, beckoning his own release, and he gave into you completely.

“Cum for me, daddy.”

It came out so sweet he thought he imagined it.

“Keep talkin’ like that and I will,” he squeezed his eyes shut as if it would prolong the pleasure.

“Cum in my pussy, please. I need you.” You whimpered as you replaced his fingers with your own, chasing your own release while cupping his neck to bring his lips to yours. “So close,” you whined.

“‘Want daddy to fill that pretty pussy up, hm?” He mumbled into your open mouth.

“Yes sir.”

You were so close. It was right there.

“Be a good girl and cum with me.”

The room erupted in a cacophony of moans and you were sure flames had licked your skin. Your thighs shook against their will as your orgasm rolled over you, radiating between your bodies.

“Attagirl, there it is.” Frank admired the way your body responded to him, the way you clung to him while your eyes rolled back and your mouth hung agape. You were so beautiful sprawled out, and he gripped onto your fleshy hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Fuck!” He groaned into the side of your neck as you pulsed around him, his thrusts growing sloppy before he spilled into you.

There was a moment of clarity between your blissful haze where you became aware of his presence, and the incessant need to have him closer overshadowed everything.

“So good,” you cupped his face, ignoring the way his stubble tickled your palms before pressing your trembling lips to his.

“So good,” he repeated, his nose pressing into yours while your lips met. “Did so good for me.”

He carefully pulled himself from you, never breaking the kiss even as you hissed. He simply ran a large hand along your head before looking over you.

“You okay sweetheart?”

You gave a drowsy, heavy-lidded smile with a shaky thumbs up from beneath him and he chuckled before placing a chaste kiss along your sternum and settling on top of you.

The added weight was welcomed and comforted you, acting as some grounding agent to bring you back together. It was the same for Frank; he clung to you, his arms wrapping around your fleshy frame while his fingertips pressed into you, memorizing each curve and contour of your body.

You followed suit, running your fingertips along the lines of muscles and splatters of raised scars before lazily squeezing him. He hummed when you grazed your nails along his scalp and nestled into your chest accordingly.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” you sleepily confess.

“Don’t worry bout it.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Nah.” His eyes remained closed, much to your confusion.

You were quiet for a moment, not fully understanding his answer. He knew you were quizzical. He didn’t need to look at you to know your face was scrunched and your eyebrows creased while you attempted to do the mental math behind his answer.

“Ain’t mad cause you’re my girl,” he beat you to it. “Unless you got somethin’ to tell me.” You could feel his smile against your chest.

“No I don’t,” you relaxed. “I’m your girl.”

#frank castle #frank castle smut #soft!dom frank castle #frank castle x female reader #the punisher #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader smut #the punisher smut #the punisher fanfiction

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leonaluv · 9 months

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4 am Thoughts 💭

Choose a flower or 1-3

Your person /People late night thoughts about you ?

This can be for anyone ,but I did include some romantic / sexual thoughts so just apply that to what people think of about you in general sense. Take whatever message that applies to you. 💌

Pile 1

Cards: 8 of pentacles

They think your someone going through a tough time in life. That you're working hard to achieve your dreams and goals. They do hope for you to make it become reality, and some pray for you as well. They believe that you're in a relationship or dealing with someone controlling. They are worried that you can't trust them because you have trust issues and experience heartbreak before. They think that you have family issues to.

They see you as someone elegant , they love how gentle you are , always dress up even while your sick or tired , your good looking , prince /princess vibe to you and want to get in contract with you soon. If your asking about romantic relationship then yes this person has 18+ thoughts about you. They imagining humalting whoever your went by being sexually with you instead. While they are with other people they daydream of you , instead. They get so turn on by just fantazing about you.

Pile 2

Cards: 10 wands reverse , six swords reverse , healer , rebel , knight , page wands

They think you're adventurous. That you're someone they call at 3 a.m. and go anywhere with them. Willing to sneak out or sneak into a party or event with them. They know you will be punished for whatever. They like how wild you can get, even if it's just randomly dyeing your hair and getting pierced. They still love how spontaneous you are. They view you as a rebellious but loyal person. That you're willing to protect your loved ones no matter what. They also believe that you will have so many people who will defend you. They see your protectors, for some, as "simps or white knights."

They view you as someone who is the best healer. You help many people around you, and you have energy that helps them relax or calm down. They like how you have a different vibe than your looks; say, for example, that you look sweet and Angelic but you curse a lot, love horror, grotesque stuff, and will fight anyone. That after hanging out with you the next day, they start to have random synchronicities everywhere. They feel that you will have a sacred bloodline or be a similar earth angel. They think about what you're wearing at night, but mostly about you in more sporty outfits or street wear. Alternately, if that is what your person wears, they think about you wearing their clothes. They compare how opposite the two of you are at night. They have thoughts about how cool you are. They have thoughts about how cool you are, too

. They like seeing you wear baggy clothes or big, loose clothes. They see you as someone dealing with other people's problems and always having to fix other people's issues. They see how that is making you change as a person, not by choice. They think about how you make them vulnerable, and that scares them. They want you badly but don't want to get hurt again.

Pile 3

Cards : Page swords , six coins reverse , eight cups reverse , six wands

They are thinking about how you just had a divorce or breakup. Or some of you got fired, some type of ending in your life. They think you're being forced to make some changes in your life right now. They see you as someone who is a survivor, still on top, and successful despite everything. They have thoughts about how angry and depressed they would be if they experienced what you have, how angry and depress that would cause them to be.Someone you love randomly ghosting you out of nowhere They know you are a good judge of character and that you are a fair person who gives good advice. They love your jokes, your funny friend off camera, or just when you don't have many people around. They love your goofy side and how you remind people to not be serious and let go; just laugh. They have thoughts about your body—how it jiggles or how fit it is.

They wonder what it will be like to hold you close and cuddle. They love your walk, and they see you as attractive. They know you are a person who has strong faith in yourself, the universe, god, etc.. They believe that you care strongly about the environment and animals. They think you are vegan or try not to eat lots of meat. They think about you, Randolmy, throughout their day.

Some of them receive downloads, little psychic visions about you, new styles you're doing, or future activities you're doing together. They imagine just calling you and getting you to travel with them. They have thoughts that you're insecure about your appearance and that you don't see how good-looking you are. They stay up fantasizing about your wild side and how much of a freak you are. They think life will end up being peaceful for you.

#free pick a card #pac reading #love pac #free tarot #channel message #tarot #pick a card

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flowerwrites06 · 10 months

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lion and the fox finale — jjk

Plot: In a turbulent world of crime and intrigue, a fiery journalist makes an unlikely alliance with one of the country’s most notorious bosses. Pairing(s): Mafia Boss!Jungkook x Journalist!OC (Name: Belle) Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+ Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series Word Count: 4.6k Genre: Mafia AU | Vintage (1940′s vibes) AU Tags & Warnings: crime, violence, sexual content, forced prostitution, mentions of racist/xenophobic implications and culture, mild scenes of harassment, some misogynistic behaviour, mentions of war, heavy mentions of drug use, infidelity. Authors Note: the finale is here, folks! thank you for the support on this series! Disclaimer: Please note that while some historical research has been done for this story, the MAJORITY of it has been altered in some way with creative liberties to match the themes and motifs of the plot.

Belle wore her own clothes to the meeting as they travelled to Namjoon’s personal teahouse, Gardenia Bloom. Jungkook knew he had no room to protest anything but at this point, Namjoon liked Belle’s presence more than his own. To be fair, Belle probably preferred her own solitude to his own presence. Since the morning Belle only spoke to him in professional terms, losing all of her softness, even that twinkle in her eyes when she looked at him.

It ached in his chest at how quickly things slipped away from him. Every time Jungkook looked at her, it was jumping into a pool, not knowing how deep or shallow it was going to be. But he kept diving anyway.

Gardenia Bloom was small and quaint but the men and women wearing their silks had sharp eyes, piercing into them without letting anyone catch a glance. Cherry blossoms were sparse during this time of year but there were momentary blooms, plucking off the branches and flowing into the breeze.

Namjoon already had a room occupied with a long dark wood table and paper walls with painted scenes of maidens serving tea to the nobility. His expression was neutral as they walked in but Jungkook knew he walked on thin ice. These two children and their questionable safety ran a dangerous line and no one trusted him to see to the end. Even Yoongi looked like he had reservations.

Jungkook and Yoongi sat next to Namjoon while Belle stood at the corner of the room. Her face still calm and stoic.

“Where are they?” Belle asked.

“They’re in the next room,” Namjoon answered. “You can go see them if you want.”

Jungkook’s stomach dropped. He needed Belle to be here, as his strength. Even if she looked like she never wanted to see him again, he wanted her here. Much to his selfish relief, Belle shook her head.

“It’s alright.” Belle intertwined her fingers together.

Jungkook waited a long while, taking careful sips of his makgeolli as Seokjin took his sweet time arriving. He wondered whether he’d just abandon both his sons just to continue with this mission of becoming the leader. All this would be for nothing. Nothing but his own quest of power. His thirst of power that Belle believed he didn’t have, but perhaps he did. Perhaps he was no different from the predecessors he pretends to be better than.

Just as that dangerous thought entered his mind, the door slid open to Seokjin and his wife Akira. “Sorry for the wait,” Seokjin said, unfazed by their meeting. “Your guards do a thorough job in searching us.”

Seokjin sat on the floor table and waved for Belle to get him a drink.

Anger flooded through Jungkook but he didn’t say anything as Belle quietly poured the makgeolli as asked before standing back into the room like a trained maiden.

Akira, on the other hand, looked like a real mother. Distressed, eyes a little red but her poise calm and collected to ensure nothing was said unseemly to risk her son’s safety. It was only when looking at her that Jungkook felt a twinge of guilt.

“I have to say, I thought Yeou Pa had a slight moral ground,” Seokjin said. “But I suppose we’ve been rather frazzled.”

“The conditions here are simple,” Jungkook said, trying his best to get to the point before his urge to punch Seokjin face back into his skull sunk in too deep. “If you wish to continue on with this charade of being the sole Korean leader than you may take your Korean son and be on your way. Or you can choose your son with Akira and quit all this nonsense.”

Seokjin laughed, taking a generous sip of his makgeolli and waving his hand. Belle, again, poured the next cup of makgeolli for him. “And if I refuse?”

“Then you’ll never see either of them again.”

The room turned sour, curdled like milk.

Even Seokjin’s punchable smile flickered away as his movements paused. “You wouldn’t kill a child.”

Jungkook paused purposefully, allowing Seokjin to grow reluctant before glancing at Belle. “No, I wouldn’t. But that’s not the point, is it?” He asked and looked over at Akira. “I lost my marriage over a spy break-in. But you can kill a spy, hide it and hope no one finds out. A child. Knowing that your spouse went out of their way to make a new family for themselves. Because they were too ashamed to commit even if it meant their entire cause depended on it. That is quite the betrayal.”

Akira raised her chin, staying silent. “I want my son back.”

Seokjin took a breath. “Akira—”

“—in return, the Zaher family will break its alliance with Holangi Pa.” Akira didn’t spare a slight glance to Seokjin. Despite her run-down expression, her words cut like a poisoned knife through the room. And Seokjin couldn’t say a word.

The Zaher family had every power and right to protect Akira’s son. Seokjin offered her family nothing of value and Akira made her choice clear. Her son over her husband.

“Of course.” Jungkook nodded, trying to hide the feeling of triumph in his chest blooming like fresh flowers. “Show her the way, please.” He spoke to Belle.

Belle bowed to them. “This way, Ms. Zaher.”

Seokjin kept his expression hardened as he drunk another sip of the makgeolli. “It seems I’ve been given a taste of what you’re capable of.”

“I wish you didn’t have to,” Jungkook said.

“Namjoon, do you say you’re comfortable working with Jungkook?” Seokjin’s gaze flickered to Namjoon but unlike Jungkook, he took Seokjin’s comments with a cool expression. “After what his grandfather did to those soldiers.”

“What I decide to do is none of your business, Seokjin.” Namjoon tilted his head. “You’re not anyone’s don.”

“This isn’t finished. I still have Hebi Pa.” Seokjin stood to his feet and tried to make way to the door but Jungkook and Namjoon’s men blocked the path. “You kill me now, Hebi Pa will just strike right back at you. This time they probably won’t be so kind to offer you another marriage.”

If Jungkook had ended it here, all his troubles would float away. Even his bargain with Namjoon would dissipate. But it was Namjoon who spoke first.

“Let him go.”

Seokjin smiled as one of Namjoon’s guards slid the paper door open and he walked away.

“I could’ve given you my part of the deal,” Jungkook said, confused.

“But I don’t want a gang war,” Namjoon replied. “This has been on the low for a while, we can’t let it burst.”

Namjoon was right. Especially after that scuffle to get Taehyung and Angel, they really had to keep things as discreet as possible. But if risking a gang war meant seeing that smile disappear, Jungkook may have considered it.

Instead he sighed. “Another time.”

Jimin snuck into Don Takahashi’s bedroom in the dark of night. One of his younger mistresses slept next to him but he knew how to sneak into places without being noticed. Gaia knew that. Perhaps more than Jimin would’ve liked it.

A small knife through the neck was all it took. Takahashi only had a few minutes of staying awake, round eyes opened as he realized the incision but the choking of blood had him still and guzzling.

Jimin didn’t look back as he snuck out of the room.

The mistress’ scream led to chaos and chaos led to a quiet funeral. Gaia wore an elegant black dress and her short curls ended just at her jawline. She kept a neutral expression but a white handkerchief hung at her gloved hand.

Everyone gave their grievances with a hint of congratulations as the title of Don was now hers.

They returned to Gaia’s household as the afternoon sun was high in the sky. White handkerchief thrown on the couch and gloves strewn away as Gaia moved to the bar and poured herself a glass of whiskey with a squeeze of lemon.

“Do you not feel remorse for losing your father?” Jimin asked.

“I was a name on an alliance sheet for my father,” she said. “I had many siblings who were shipped off to another gang, unknown and unheard of. I will not do the same and be someone else’s pawn. Not anymore.” She took her first sip and looked out the window, her expression still unchanged. “You can leave now.”

Jimin hesitated. Force of habit had him leaving but he pressed his feet to the floor. Woods stuck on his tongue. He turned quietly and stared at her for a moment. Remembered how he used to admire the way she looked out into the view, like she wished for anything but this yet relished in what she had. “Everything I did and said wasn’t scripted, Gaia.”

“Does it help you sleep at night when you look at it that way?” Gaia asked. The sun made her eyes look bright green and venomous but her voice was sweet.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Jimin said. “I don’t have anything to survive with if I wasn’t with Seokjin.”

Her eyes then flickered to him, the venomous look turned hurt and angry. “You don’t think I don’t know what this world is like? I’d have given you anything if you’d just. . .noticed.” Her voice cracked slightly. With a scoff, Gaia looked back at the window with a defeated sigh. “Get out of my sight.”

Jimin took a breath to speak but stopped. Guilt choked any defense that tried to push through because she was right. Jimin had gotten so close to Gaia that there could’ve been a better place for him. More than, Jimin knew that his feelings were becoming true. Yet he was frightened. A coward who needed to run back to the wings that found him. With that thought, he bowed and walked away.

Belle and Jungkook returned to the estate deep into the night. The meeting took out more of her energy than she wanted to and it didn’t help that she was made to go back to Jungkook’s household. She immediately made her way into the guestroom and settled on top of the soft bed. She heard footsteps behind her come closer.

Jungkook stood in front of her and knelt to the floor. He reached out and gently pulled off her shoes, releasing the aching feeling of her feet.

“Stop,” she whispered.

“You caused me a big victory today.” Jungkook caressed the pads of her feet, massaging them to feel better and Belle had to resist the urge to hum in pleasure.

“You did the talking.”

“Still, thank you.” Jungkook’s voice kept to the soft movements of his hands. “And I’m sorry. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met and it often scares me.”

Belle blinked slowly, trying to hide how much her heart fluttered.

Jungkook got up to his feet. “Good night.” He walked out of the room.

Belle took a shower and dressed into her white cotton nightgown. She looked at her empty bed. Silent treatments were for couples who wanted to last. There was no point in being angry at someone Belle never expected to be better. So with a sigh, she walked over to Jungkook’s bedroom.

Jungkook was sleeping, shirtless and rested on his stomach. His back lifted and dipped from each deep breath.

Belle climbed on the other side of the bed and snuck under the blankets. She snuggled into the pillows, closed her eyes and rested quietly.

Jungkook shifted and turned around. He pulled Belle closer to his chest, kissing her cheeks and her forehead then her lips. His arm snuck underneath her, wrapping around her completely until she felt safe and warm.

Belle climbed on top of him, straddling him. Palms pressed against his chest, the comfortable patterns of his heartbeat bringing her a sense of calm. She leaned in and kissed him. Soft and tender.

Jungkook’s hands rode up her dress, gripping at her thighs as Belle deepened the kiss. He sat up and placed Belle on her back, her head near the end of the bed. Jungkook pressed wet kisses down her neck and chest, pulling down her sleeves and suckling on her breasts. Pleasure bloomed through her body in a way that felt like leaning over the edge of a cliff. But it was enticing and lovely.

Belle turned them over again, pushing down his soft pants. She caressed her wet core against his length, making him groan.

Jungkook pressed his nails into her skin as Belle smiled.

Belle lifted herself and sunk onto his length. Wet and snug but it sent her to madness. Being full of him left her breathless. Belle gyrated her hips, pressing her palms on his lower belly. The luxurious bed began to squeak under the pressure. Belle trembled as she slowed down her pace, making Jungkook moan.

Jungkook intertwined his fingers to hers as Belle began to bounce on him. He cupped her cheeks before wrapped his arms around her hips, latching his hands, fucking into her. Belle let out a pleased whimper, shaking along the rhythm as the bed screeched violently.

Jungkook ran along the edge of his orgasm, pushing into her as he came to his climax, filling her to the brim.

Belle let out a pleased sigh.

Jungkook snuck his hand between her legs as he made them sit up. He rubbed her clit, driving her to an orgasm until her legs began to shake. Jungkook held her close while she was breathless, flushed and pleased.

Belle hid her face in his chest, following her breath with the sounds of his heartbeat. She lifted herself and kissed him.

Jungkook brushed his fingers through her hair, his gaze so deep and loving that Belle felt the weight of it, pushing her down.

Belle cupped his cheek before he kissed her forehead, making her melt into his embrace. It was so soft and intimate.

And so so dangerous.

Akira kept Kaito incredibly close to her for the next few hours. He slept on her lap, unharmed but drained by all the events. She would be angered by Jungkook’s brashness but she knew better than to blatantly blame people with stupidity. She was raised smarter than that. All this happened because of Seokjin’s brashness. He flew too close to the sun and targeted the wrong people. People who could easily tear them apart if they wanted.

They arrived back home, quiet and distant.

Akira cupped Kaito’s cheeks and kissed him on the forehead. “Take him to the next room for a moment, please. I’ll be with you as soon as possible, I promise.” She spoke that with her heart. She was never keeping him in a separate place again.

Kaito nodded with a smile as a guard gently guided him away.

“Give him anything he needs,” she said.

Seokjin smiled as Kaito walked out of the room as he left but as always it was never genuine. It was never anything.

As the door closed, Akira began to speak. “I’ve believed that I have done most things a good wife would do. Perhaps I’m too formal and not cheery enough to keep one’s interest piqued but I’ve done my best with the situation we’re in.”

Seokjin’s expression softened. “Akira, what I did had nothing to do with my lack of feelings for you.”

“That doesn’t resolve our dilemma.” Akira’s voice cut through Seokjin’s relaxed demeanour. “What I said to Jungkook was a proper promise.”

“You want to break this alliance.” His tone turned serious. “After all these years.”

“It may seem surprising to you but I don’t prefer having an unfaithful husband. Regardless of what his intentions were. And it honestly surprises me that you’d think I’d stay with you after what’s happened. I accepted your proposal for marriage out of my own interests, it was no trophy or benefit on my part.” Akira explained as best as she could. “But people like you always forget that. This is why you burn out first.”

Seokjin’s throat bobbed up and down before coughing. “What about Kaito?”

“He will understand what needs to be done,” Akira said.

Seokjin coughed again, pouring himself a glass of water. “He needs a father.”

“And he will have one. I will find one. It just won’t be you.”

Seokjin scoffed, shoulders shaking.

“Goodbye, Seokjin. I wish you would’ve just appreciated the family you had. The family that loved you.” Akira turned away and walked out of the room.

Seokjin tried to speak out her name but he coughed again, body lurching until he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Blood spurted out of him and stained the dark wood floor.

He saw footsteps coming closer to him. “Akira.”

But they were dark boots, large boots yet unusually quiet.

Seokjin stared up at the figure and saw Taehyung.

“You should watch who pours drinks for you,” Taehyung said.

Seokjin choked out a sound but more blood spurted out. He wanted to yell out for the guards but Taehyung’s hand moved quickly with the knife. Within seconds, Seokjin was gone and any trace of Taehyung dissipated. Tigers were good at what they did.

“It’s a popular venom Cho No Su uses to get rid of bad customers,” Angel said as she sat with Belle in their new room. The rain pattered outside and Taehyung returned, immediately rushing to clean the blood off him and change into new clothes. “I only used it once but some older workers had to use it every month.”

Belle hugged her knees to her chest, looking at the pack suitcases next to them. “You’ll never have to do that again. Go somewhere far away and forget what happened here.”

Angel nodded. “Thank you for this. You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t thank me, there were still conditions to the deal.”

“Still, anyone else would’ve taken information and left it alone.” Angel smiled. “Thank you.”

Belle didn’t know how much she deserved to be thanked for anything. Everything she did up until now was low and underhanded. Investigating was one thing but poisoning and turning over an entire gang with a succession crisis was another thing entirely. Not only that but her time in Yeou Pa was coming to an end. She had to pull away now or she’d never leave.

The deed was done. Jungkook won. All with the help of Belle. He clinked glasses with Yoongi and Rosyne, drank with them and celebrated but Belle was nowhere to be seen. It was only when Yoongi and Rosyne opted to leave for their houses that she appeared, a little drenched by the rain.

Belle straightened her position and intertwined her fingers together. “Our job here is done,” she said.

Jungkook’s heart squeezed within itself, panging in pain. “What’re you talking about?”

“My job was to help you take down Seokjin. That is what I did and now we can part ways,” Belle said, still keeping that neutral tone.

“You and I both know this was more than job.” Jungkook spoke through gritted teeth. “If this is still about what I said to you.”

“Your words shouldn’t have any impact on me,” Belle said. “That was never part of the plan and I will not intend to encourage it for a future that cannot happen under any circumstances.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I cannot be yours if you are here. Your family broke my family, Jungkook and for nothing else but profit. That can never be forgiven or reversed.” Belle shook her head.

“What if I help your mother and grandmother?” Jungkook was soft and almost desperate. “Bring them back to their feet.”

“They’re not your charity cases and I will not have my mother be indebted to you after what she’s been through.” Belle stepped back. “This needs to end.”

“You can’t leave.” Jungkook pursed his lips together. I don’t want you to leave. I need you here. “You know too much about the gang.”

Belle raised her chin. “So you’re going to kill me?”

Jungkook gulped. How easy it was to assume so. It wasn’t as if he’d proven himself not to throw threats in people’s way.

“Do it.”

Jungkook’s stomach dropped.

Belle held onto the knife in her boot and wrapped it in Jungkook’s hand, pressing the tip against her chest. “All the information dies with me. You can preserve your precious power and legacy when I’m done. But if I live, I won’t stop. No matter what.”

Jungkook was scared. Scared because he considered it. He thought about it just for his own survival. Then it slipped out of him. “I love you.”

It was worse than a stab. It was probably worse than death. The words lingered in the air, curdling it like spoiled milk yet still felt so sweet.

Jungkook took the knife away and placed it on the table.

“Take it back.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Belle. I won’t start now.”

“You have no idea what love is,” Belle seethed. “If you knew even for a moment, things would be different but they aren’t. So take it back.”

“No.”

Belle grabbed the knife and pointed the tip of his neck. “You don’t feel that way, you’re lying. People like you manipulate people like me all the time.”

“Then pretend it’s a lie. But I’m not taking it back.”

Belle pressed the knife further into his skin but pulled away. “You’re a coward just like your father.” Her voice cracked as she walked out of the room.

All Jungkook could do was smile. It was a lowly insult, below Belle. It was both a soft brush against his cheek and crack in his heart realizing what she wanted to say.

I love you too.

Gaia watched Seokjin’s body get taken away in his coffin while Akira stood quietly, touching Kaito’s shoulder. She couldn’t hug him quite yet since he was more than just her son now. He was the leader for Holangi Pa.

Jimin stood next to her, frozen in place. “We know who did this.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gaia said. “Akira won’t look for vengeance and niether should you. Don’t be stupid.”

“We can’t just let them get away with it.”

“And what’re you going to do? Kill Jungkook, then get killed and rinse and repeat? Seokjin started this and his death finishes it. Calm yourself.” Gaia narrowed her gaze.

Jimin’s chest rose and fell.

As they returned to Gaia’s house again, Jimin stayed with his pout throughout the trip.

Gaia let out an annoyed sigh. “I think I preferred when you were faking your feelings for me. You were so much more alive and leading.”

Jimin sighed. “You had your father killed. I never had one, Seokjin was the closest to family I was given.”

Gaia pressed her lips together. “Well, you can grieve in your new freedom now.”

Jimin stared at her curiously. “What?

“Seokjin’s death means you’re of no threat to me. I’ll give you some funds and land. So you can be a free man and grieve your family that you love so much.” Gaia waved her hand as she sat herself on the couch.

Jimin hesitated, thinking for a moment to step away and be free. “You’re setting me free? Why?”

Gaia stared at him, scoffing while shaking her head. “You are a bumbling fool sometimes.”

Seokjin would provide many things for him. Anything he ever needed but freedom was never in question. Jimin wasn’t stupid. He knew he wasn’t free but not being free meant he got a meal and a house at the end of the day. Yet Gaia was giving him freedom. Not just freedom but money to start a life of his own. Jimin wanted to feel thrilled and grateful but he just felt more guilty than usual.

Despite all the things he had done to express his loyalty to Seokjin, Gaia still showed her love for him.

Jimin turned away from the door and walked to the bar, filled a small glass of whiskey and squeezed a lemon. He walked over and handed it to her. “I can still visit if you’d like me to.”

Gaia had a small smile on her face. “If you keep bringing me drinks, sure.”

Belle kept replaying the words over and over again in her head. The tips of her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She already had articles ready for publishing, piling up in the attempt to distract herself but there was no denying the voice in her head.

Shaking her head, Belle picked up the articles and walked into Hoseok’s office. She placed the papers on the table.

“All of these for Yeou Pa?” Hoseok asked.

Belle nodded. “It’s now or never.”

Hoseok sighed as he read through the words. “You know I can’t publish all of this. Yeou Pa is connected to other organizations that aren’t criminal. We’d be accusing them of association.”

Anger flooded through her.

“Maybe it’s good to take a break and come back. I know it’s been difficult.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m telling you as a friend. The situation has changed.”

Belle sat down with a deep breath. “What about the underground newsletters?” She asked. “It’ll warn the organizations to lay low and I’ll use my own name.”

Hoseok’s expression softened. “It could work.”

“She didn’t miss a single thing,” Yoongi said, a sense of amazement behind his words as they were given the newsletters under Belle’s name. “She’s making us go silent.”

Not burning the empire but quietly corroding it. Jungkook would be forced to look back on his records as journalists and undercover police start linking business to him. It’s chaos without the fireworks.

Jungkook rested back on his chair. “Rosyne, how long will this take to ensure no tracking?”

“Months. Our profits will lower significantly,” Rosyne said.

“We could take care of Belle to send a message.” Yoongi raised his shoulders.

Jungkook narrowed his gaze but Yoongi only smiled. “Get started. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Rosyne bowed and walked out of the room. Yet Yoongi stayed, staring at Jungkook for a moment before sighing.

“You’ll get used to it,” Yoongi said. “Knowing you can never have something normal and comfortable like that.” His tone turned unusually serious before he left the room too.

Jungkook was left with a sinking feeling. He should’ve known nothing would come of it and if something did happen, it wouldn’t be good. But he sank anyway, so deep into the ocean that he just wanted to drown to make it easy.

In the end, Belle won and he lost.

Belle came back to her mother and grandmother’s home after her day at work. It was a small, quaint place but her grandmother kept the garden alive with yellow and red blossoms.

When she walked in, there was a warm scent of spiced meat and fresh rice.

Her mother sat at the television, turning her head slightly towards Belle before smiling softly. “You’re home.” She smiled though vacantly.

Belle leaned in and kissed the top of her head.

Her grandmother appeared from the kitchen, her skin glistening from the steam. “Good, you’re here. Food is just finished.”

Belle’s stomach already rumbled for some lovingly cooked food. She sat at the counter as her grandmother handed her a bowl of warm soup, rice and spiced meat.

“So. . .did you do it?” her grandmother asked.

Belle looked up at her, before sipping on her soup and feeling her belly warm. The familiar airs of her home loosened her body. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. But there was no denying that she had a victory. And she would hold onto it with her life. “I did it.”

Her grandmother hummed. “Well done.”

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violetsaffron5 · 2 years

Text

Psychotherapy

Pairing: Zenin Naoya x f!Reader

Naoya is forced to go see a therapist to help his attitude so he can find a wife.

Words: 4503

Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Spit Kink, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Light Bondage, Light Dom/Sub, Edging, Degradation

Early 2017

You’re on a beach in Malaysia; ocean waves crashing playfully against the shore as you sunbathe on the white sandy beach. Palm trees stand tall and proud, providing just enough shade, dancing ever so slightly with the soft breeze coming off the water.

“What man lets their woman have a job? Is there something wrong with your pussy?”

Birds fly overhead, dipping down to the sea to catch their next meal, feathers illuminated by the rays of the sun. Others sing the song of their people as they pass by, on their way to the next stop with the flock.

“There’s only one thing worse than a woman, and that’s a woman who can read.”

Is this son of a bitch the CEO of misogyny? Holy shit.

Whoever told you to meditate to relax when you have a horrible patient is a goddamn liar because when they open their stupid mouths, it’s ruined. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, finally opening your eyes to find a pair of sharp, cynical brown eyes staring back at you.

If you had realized this session was going to be with Naoya fucking Zen’in, you would have noped your way out of that so fast. This is what you get for not reviewing your case files due to the recent influx of patients.

Be professional. Be professional. Be professional.

“I took many years of-”

“Therapy isn’t a real profession anyway.” The blonde douchebag interrupts, waving you off as he sprawls on the chaise in front of the window in your office.

It took him all of 30 seconds to begin pissing you off. Barging in during your last session with a client demanding his start immediately, all the while using phrases like “do you know who I am?” and “wait until my father hears about this.” You rolled your eyes so hard it’s surprising they aren’t on the floor right now.

The window he’s next to looks out to a beautiful, quiet, wooded scene. If you killed him, nobody would be able to see you bury the body, save for the animals. And they wouldn’t say anything. Most would probably come by to pick at the fleshy parts of his skin, assisting with removing evidence making it harder to identify that it was you who had murdered the heir to the Zen’in clan.

It would be easy. Incredibly so. You’re unsuspecting. There’s nothing stopping you from walking over to him and stabbing your pen right into his eye. People think of you as the quiet shy type, when in reality you choose to keep to yourself to avoid being part of the office gossip, and if you had to admit it, you’re a little tired of all the shit your patients say too, which only adds to the quiet, unsuspecting demeanor.

“I took a psych class once, so I totally understand how to analyze people.”

“It’s not my fault those women are mad. I never agreed to be exclusive.”

“I didn’t kill the men at the fair. My henchmen did.”

If you played your cards right, you could probably talk Satoru Gojo into helping you cover it up. You haven’t seen this yourself, but word around the water cooler is things are so bad between them, that when they’re here for their sessions at the same time (the rare times Gojo actually shows up on time), they have to sit in different waiting rooms.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and kiss your teeth, choosing to ignore his comment like the goddamn professional you are. You didn’t get your master’s degree to be talked down to by someone with too thick eyeliner and too many piercings looking like a failed alt emo boy.

It’s probably best to ignore his snide remarks and continue with the session. The sooner it gets started, the sooner it can be over, “Naoya, wh-”

“ Master Naoya,” he interjects, clearly annoyed you’re not referring to him the way he deems worthy.

“Right….” There is no way in hell you’re referring to him as ‘Master’ in any lifetime. “Anyway. Whose idea was it for you to be here today?”

You don’t need to review his case file to know why Naoya’s in therapy. Everyone knows. In order to take over as clan head when his father passes, he needs to marry, except he can’t get anyone to agree to it, because he’s literal human trash. Hence the mandatory therapy to try and… remediate some of his issues.

“Isn’t that your “job” to know?” he uses air quotes.

You were hoping if he said it aloud, admitted it, then it would act as a sort of eye opener for him or at least a first step. Looks like that’s not the case, he’s content continuing to be a shitty person.

“This is why women are only good for breeding.” He groans, rolling his eyes.

“Holy shit. What the fuck is your problem?” You ask in disbelief and the words vomit from your lips before you can stop them.

He furrows his brows, turning his head to meet your gaze before eyeing you up and down. He makes a point to stop and stare at your tits and lips, not bothering to meet your eyes again.

“Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that?” He seethes, “a wench like you needs to be put in her place,” he looks you over once again before his lips curl into a wicked smirk. “You’re decent enough looking. I guess I’d be willing to take one for the team to teach you a lesson.”

Fuck professionalism. This guy needs knocked down a peg or ten. “If I wanted a good lay, I’d visit Gojo. Hell, I bet you wouldn’t even measure up to Toji on your best day.”

“I can fuck whores like you ten times better than either of them could,” he spits back.

“I hear Gojo’s a generous lover.” Why bring Gojo into this, specifically? Just to stir the pot. Rile him up and piss him off, just as he’s done to you. Everyone knows the stories of the infamous playboy. Huge cock. Can go all night. Has a strict ladies first policy when it comes to getting off.

“I bet you don’t even know where the clitoris is.” He’s definitely the kind of guy who only cares about only his pleasure; it would come as no surprise if he’s never gotten a woman off before.

He sneers, “every single one of my servants comes crawling back for more.”

“Weird way to say cousins.”

He stares at you, fire burning in his eyes. Anyone else would probably think he looks shocked, and maybe he is, just a little. That a lowly window has the audacity to speak to a sorcerer this way, let alone the next head to one of the big three.

Shit. Are you gonna do this? Are you gonna challenge him so he’ll prove it?

Yes. Yes you are and you can literally feel the feminism ascending out of your body as you make up your mind.

Standing, you unbutton a few buttons from the top of your blouse to accentuate the swells of your breasts and loosen the knot on your ascot, slipping it over your head as you make your way over to Naoya, sliding it down his neck and tightening maybe a little too tight.

Leaning down, warm breath tickling the shell of his ear causing goosebumps to form, you whisper, “prove it.” He wastes no time in grabbing your free hand and placing it on his erection with a pleased smirk.

Of course he’s turned on. Probably thinking you’ll easily submit to him.

As you stroke his clothed cock, he lets out a quiet, satisfied moan as your other hand pulls the ascot a little tighter, no longer worrying if it’s too constricting.

Honestly, if he died, you wouldn’t care. Satisfying for you. Humiliating for him.

“Be a good boy and open wide,” he glares, clenching his jaw in a surprisingly quiet refusal. Letting go of the ascot, you grab him by the hair, forcing his head back until he opens just wide enough for you to gather saliva and spit it in his mouth.

“Swallow.” You demand, his eyes wide with shock. Once he regains his composure, he flips you over, slamming your back against the couch.

“I’m going to fuck your goddamn brains out,” he snaps, “and you’re going to regret spitting in my mouth like a filthy slut.” Naoya grabs one end of the ascot, pulling harshly until it comes untied, tossing it aside and you watch it float to the ground next to the chaise before turning your attention back to him.

There’s tension in the air, as the two of you stare at one another, swallowing thickly before your lips crash together, the sensation immediately sends a jolt between your thighs. The kiss is aggressive and greedy; more tongue and teeth than actual kiss and part of you is still shocked you’re going through with this.

As he pulls away, he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, hard enough to leave a bruise, still trying to prove his dominance over you. Then in a move that takes you off guard, he trails several nips and kisses down your neck and collarbone. While he does this, you lift your hips and pull your pencil skirt up, so he’s not tempted to rip it off, letting it pool at your hips. At this moment, you’re incredibly thankful you wore your lace bra and panties today, even if he doesn’t deserve to see them.

“Spread your legs,” he snarls, forcing them open on his own and slipping two fingers into your aching cunt, making you whimper and arch your back due to lack of proper preparation. He quickly pumps his fingers while angling them perfectly. You let out a quiet whine when he begins to stroke the spot inside that makes you see stars while his thumb grazes teasingly over your clit.

Guess he does know where the clitoris is after all.

“You try to act tough,” he brushes his lips against your cheek and jaw until he kisses a spot below your ear, “yet here you are, so clearly desperate for my cock like the slut you are,” he whispers before clamping down, biting, and sucking at the spot on your neck. Thrashing below him, you try to nudge his head away with your shoulder to get him to let go.

“No marks! Jesus Christ, I don’t want people to know I fucked you!”

He smirks against you, knowing he’s not going to let up, and bites down on the crook of your neck this time. Gasping, you grab him by the hair and pull him away before smacking him, hard, across the cheek as he lets out a loud moan.

“You fucking liked that?” You furrow your brows and narrow your eyes, surprised by that turn of events.

“Shut the fuck up!” He growls, his lips meeting and moving along yours again in an attempt to keep you quiet. And really, you don’t mind as it gets his misogynistic ass to keep quiet as well.

With your mouths busy, his fingers working their godforsaken magic and your hands in his hair, you’re building up for a crash. A tsunami. An unraveling of the greatest proportions… and then he removes his fingers, pulling away from you completely with a cunning grin spread across his stupidly beautiful face.

“Christ, Naoya, I didn’t even cum. How pathetic .” You spit, knowing he’s edging you on purpose for pissing him off, “you sure you can fuck better than Gojo? Because at this point I’m really doubting your skill.”

“You don-”

“Shut up and get undressed. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

He stops and stares at you incredulously, “You’re the wo-”

“I’m not going to undress you. Do you want your dick sucked or not?”

Finally, finally , he closes his mouth and begins to undress from his kimono, as you take the opportunity to remove your own clothes as well.

Once the two of you are undressed, you push him onto the chair so he’s sitting; before lowering yourself to your knees, you take a moment to admire his body.

He’s leaner than you anticipated, and unbelievably toned – similar to a gymnast. Naoya has a pretty face, there’s no denying that, but having an equally pretty cock is just unfair. Standing painfully hard against his abdomen, the tip flushed red, already leaking precum. He’s average girth, but the length is impressive alone.

Based on his ears, you anticipated some sort of genital piercing, like a Jacob’s Ladder – something he could never pull off. But instead, he has a Prince Albert, which has you practically drooling at the sight.

However, that nice surprise is immediately negated by the intricate tribal tattoos with thick swirl patterns laying along one shoulder and down the left side of his chest. On the other arm lays a single thin barbed wire tattoo in the center of his bicep.

God . How incredibly douchey.

“Look at me.” You command as you sink between his legs, “you think this is where I belong, don’t you?” Grabbing his cock with a firm grip you stroke excruciatingly slow as he emits a loud moan and squirms beneath your grasp, “on my knees, between your legs. But don’t forget,” you give a small kitten lick over his tip, “I’m choosing to do this.”

You move a hand to squeeze his balls as you slide your lips over his tip and hollow your cheeks. As you expected, his hand immediately tangles into your hair, gripping tight. You have just enough time to relax your throat before he slams your head to meet his neatly trimmed groin.

As you gag and sputter with his length at the back of your throat, spit pools and dribble from your mouth, coating the lower half of his dick you’re unable to fit in your mouth. He tightens his grip, so tight, there’s no doubt he will have several ripped off hairs laced between his fingers by the time he finally lets go. He pulls back, just enough to give you a second to catch your breath before slamming you back down, nose to groin, repeatedly. Recklessly.

Tears begin to well in the corner of your eyes as he lifts his hips to meet the back of your throat, where you’re sure he’s bound to leave bruises.

“Fuck, that’s good. This is what you were meant for.” He throws his head back, eyes closed relishing the feeling of taking control of the situation.

There isn’t a lot you can do in this compromising position, so you let your teeth graze his cock in a little act of defiance as he continues to force your head up and down. He lets out a mix of stifled moans and angry grunts at the feeling before pulling your mouth off of him, bringing your gaze to meet him.

“No teeth, bitch!” He spits before slamming your head back down his length, continuing to force you to deepthroat him with every thrust. After a few minutes, his thighs begin to shake and a strained groan leaves his lips as he bucks his hips up, causing you to choke as ropes of cum slide down your throat.

“You better swallow every last drop,” he pants, “a filthy whore like you should be grateful for getting to have Zen’in seed inside you.”

After you swallow around him, to the best of your abilities, he releases your head and you make your way to the surface gasping for air, working to recover quickly. At this point, he owes you several orgasms and you’re determined to get them.

You would lean up and kiss him right now, forcing him back on the sofa so you can ride his face, but he seems like the kind of guy who would relish the taste of his own cum – the taste of his precious Zen’in DNA. Grabbing your panties from the floor, you spit the remaining essence of him into them and toss them back down.

Standing, you place your palms on his shoulders and shove him onto the chaise, throwing one leg over his chest to straddle him.

“Why don’t you shut up, put your mouth to good use for once and try to make me cum this time.”

His eyes are bright and filled with equal parts rage and hunger as he grabs you, forcing you forward over his face. He wastes no time in pulling you down so his lips can connect with your pussy in a lewd, loud, wet kiss before slipping his tongue deep inside.

Naoya forces you down in the most awkward position; one leg folded, next to his face while the other is on the floor, helping balance yourself as you move your hips against his face, softly whining each time his nose gently grazes your clit.

He digs his nails into the fleshy part of your hips, you told him no marks earlier, and this is likely bruise; at least these can be easily hidden. While gripping tighter, he lifts you slightly to adjust himself beneath you to let his tongue trail around your clit. As you shudder, he latches on, focusing all of his attention into that one spot.

He’s not interested in exploring, like a lot of other guys, oh no. He found this spot and he’s going to stay there until you completely come undone for him. You’ll give credit where it’s due – and it is due. He’s a devil with his tongue.

He might be the devil himself, but that’s a note to take away for a different session.

As he obscenely sucks, you let out a series of high-pitched moans and continue to roll your hips on his face, your release fast approaching.

He chuckles at your neediness, the vibrations traveling through you, making your toes curl and the world comes crashing down as you bite your own lip, trying not to yell out profanities as you cum, drenching his mouth with your fluids as he laps around.

Naoya continues to hold onto your hips, preventing you from straying away as your legs shake and squeeze in around him, instinctively trying to suffocate him. He hums appreciatively of everything your body’s offered, likely boosting his already inflated ego, before loosening his grip, allowing you to move back to his chest to recover.

As he licks his lips, determined not to waste any of your essence, you scoot back further, the apex of your thighs resting on his hard dick. Teasing him, you roll your hips several times allowing yourself to grind on his length.

He groans, trying to grab your hips to lift you but you swat him away, set on maintaining your teasing, allowing the tip to brush against your entrance several times.

“Fuck! Just get on my cock already!” It was so nice when he was quiet while you were riding his face. Unfortunately now, his mouth isn’t busy doing the one good thing it could do.

Looking to the ground, you spot your discarded ascot and panties next to each other and get an idea. Leaning down, you grab the ascot first and gather his hands, swiftlet knotting the scarf around his wrists and lifting them over his head. There is an old radiator in your office next to the sofa, so you tie his hands to that.

“You stupid bitch, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He scowls.

Realistically, he could easily break out of this restraint if he wanted to, but despite his angry words, he makes no effort to move as you tug on the fabric, making sure it will hold.

“I liked it better when you didn’t talk,” you state calmly, leaning down and grabbing the spit and cum filled panties from the ground.

“You worthless brat! You’re go-” he’s cut off by the crack of your palm meeting his cheek, the sound drowned out by the deep groan he emits. You take the opportunity of his distraction to shove the defiled panties into his mouth. His eyes widen in disbelief once again as the rest of his groan is muffled.

“Much better,” you sigh with relief, knowing you won’t have to listen to him again until you decide to remove the gag. Or if he gets impatient and breaks the restraints, but that’s a thought for if it happens.

Lifting yourself, you grab his cock and place the tip at your entrance, allowing yourself to slowly sink down.

“ Fuuuuuck ,” you whine at the feeling of being stretched and filled until your plush ass meets his hips.

Naoya would probably be saying something right now about how your pussy feels so good, but instead he lets out several loud stifled sounds as his eyes roll to the back of his head. You don’t bother starting off slow, instead you chase the high you were denied from his hands earlier, ruthlessly riding his dick.

“Gonna use you like my own little fuck toy,” you grind your hips further into his, “how’s that make y-you feel, Zen’in? Hm?” You ask breathlessly, riding up and down his length, “does it make you f-feel worthless? Like less of a man?”

Looking him over, his pupils are blown, filled with lust and loathing as you roll your hips, finding the angle that provides you with the most pleasure. His cheeks are pink, extending across his nose to the tips of his ears, and down to the top of his chest. Lips are kiss swollen and black eyeliner smudged around his eye from sweat, hair sticking to his forehead.

Once you find your rhythm you decide to give another resounding slap to his other cheek, so both sides match as he grunts with pleasure. Letting your hands fall to his shoulders, he fucks into you as you drag your nails down his chest with each thrust, hard enough to leave marks, you’re sure.

Trailing your hands up your body to your breasts, you message them as your nipples harden, pinching and rolling them between your fingers. Naoya hums in delight watching intently while your slick coats his length, covering his balls.

As his cock rubs against the sensitive spot on your insides, your breath quickens and legs shake beneath you each time your clit brushes against his groin with every roll of your hips. It doesn’t take long for the waves of pleasure to course through your body.

He thrashes against the radiator forgetting his hands are tied as you cream on his cock for the first time, clamping around him so hard you might as well be trying to milk him for all he’s worth.

Which isn’t a lot, in your opinion.

“How do you like being the bitch for once?” You pant; this spurs him on to adjust his legs and pulls his arms, still connected to the radiator. He bucks his hips up several times eliciting several moans from you as his cock kisses your cervix in the most delicious way.

“Tell me, pretty boy, what is it you really want?” you question, genuinely wanting to know since he treats everyone like they’re beneath him. This is supposed to be a therapy session after all, so might as well see what you can get out of him, right?

He tries to speak, but it’s muted due to the panties so you remove them and toss them aside. He pants, trying to catch his breath as his hips piston hard and deep, punctuating each point.

“Someone to obey,” thrust , “and someone to ruin,” thrust .

You yelp with each of his thrusts, trying to make a mental note to remember his answer for a later session. You continue to erratically bounce on him, meeting each of his steady thrusts with a loud slap, skin on skin, filling your otherwise quiet workspace.

“Don’t cum,” he demands as he feels your pussy gripping around his cock.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” you shoot back, both hands on his chest as he continues to pump mercilessly into you until the coil in your stomach snaps and breaks, walls pulsating around him, vision blurred white as you cum around him.

The feeling of you clamping down causes him to bite his lip and arch his back; knowing he’s going to be cumming soon too, you quickly remove yourself from him sitting back on his thighs. His eyes widen as he looks at you like you’ve betrayed him – it’s bad enough you’re fucking him, but there’s no way in hell you’ll let him cum inside you.

You’ll never admit it to him, but he was a good fuck, maybe still not as good as Gojo would have been, but still good nonetheless, so you’ll let him cum.

“No way I’m gonna be stuck around you for years,” you explain as you grab his length, stroking vigorously until his eyes roll to the back of his head and he lets out several deep strangled moans, pulling hard on the radiator, as his precious Zen’in seed covers his chest.

After you catch your breath, you remove yourself from his legs and search for your clothes on the floor. Finding the panties that are soaked in both your spit, you toss them into the trash under your desk; you’ll need to remember to empty that before you leave, so nobody accidently sees them.

“If you take anything away from this, it should be that you don’t need to be in charge of everything. You might be surprised just how freeing that can truly be.” You try to explain as you untie his hands; he continues to lay on the chaise, catching his breath rolling out his wrists, “you can use the bathroom over there to clean yourself and get dressed. Be back in five minutes for the rest of your session.”

“Fucking psycho bitch,” he mutters to himself as he begrudgingly stands and stalks off to the bathroom with his clothes while his cum drips from his chest down to his abdomen.

You decide to ignore his comment and choose to take a deep breath instead and get dressed too. After straightening your skirt and slipping your shoes back on, you take your seat across from the chaise once again.

When Naoya returns, seven minutes later, you note, he takes his seat. Looking him over, his cheeks are still tinged pink, hair more romantically tousled than dishevel-

Nope. Good god, get those thoughts out of your brain right now. This is not going to be a thing.

Sighing, you grab the legal pad from the coffee table between the two of you and click the top of the pen, ready to write. His session is over in about 20 minutes. Let’s see how painful we can continue to make this for him.

“So, Naoya, tell me about your mother.”

294 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 2 years

Note

calla lilies for spence please! how would he react to reader with nipple piercings?

come visit my flower garden!!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Season one spencer would just about shit his pants. You slip your shirt off to get changed, like you always do before bed, but this time it's different. Because there, glinting in the low light of the bedroom, are two silver rings through your nipples, and Spencer tries not to look like he was watching you undress, but his eyes are bulging out of your head and you know he was staring. You giggle softly, letting him know that you'd just gotten them done this afternoon while he was at work. He has half a mind to pretend he has no idea what you're talking about, but then you're sitting on the bed topless, and he can't help but stare.

"Can- Can I, maybe, touch them?" His voice is hesitant, and his eyes display his fear of rejection as he glances up at you through his lashes.

"Be gentle," You nod, "They're sensitive, and they've gotta heal before we can do anything with them."

His cheeks burned red at the thought of 'doing something' with them, but he nodded nonetheless, reaching out hesitantly for your chest. He ghosted his fingers over your skin, shivering slightly at how the metal was cool to the touch.

"You like 'em?" You can see the appreciation clear on his face, but watching him get flustered is adorable, so you ask anyways.

He nods vigorously, "How long do I have to wait before they heal?"

Season 15 Spencer would have taken you to get the piercings. The healing process is agonizing, not just because of the adjustment but because he can't touch them and it's driving him insane. You've had to start keeping your shirt on during sex, because every single time he sees your bare chest, he tries to pop a titty into his mouth.

But when he finally gets his hands mouth on them??

"Fucking finally," he breathes, slipping his hands under the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your head, revealing your breasts. The air in your bedroom was chilly, just a few degrees below comfortable, and Spencer had suggested you 'warm up'. But your body is clearly reacting to the chill, your nipples already stiff with the rings standing proudly in them.

"God, I'm so glad I turned the temperature down," Spencer chuckles breathlessly, already pinching your nipples between his fingers and testing out the feel of the rings.

"Spencer!" You chide, though your stomach lurches at his touch, "That's no fair!"

"No fair," He repeats, frowning up at you, "I thought you got these things for us to use 'em!"

"I did," You sigh, "But I don't even know if they're fully healed!"

"I'll be gentle," Spencer grins devilishly at you through the near-darkness of the bedroom, and you instantly know he's lying, "I promise."

888 notes · View notes

notyour-valentine · 1 year

Text

A Fair Exchange XXX ~ Aemond Targaryen x Reader/OC (Angst)

[Navigation] [Moonboard Masterlist] [House of the Dragon Masterlist]

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Summary: Dorne and her dreams make her uneasy and unpleasant, but a new acquaintance changes everything

Warning: bullying, blood, mention and threat of violence and death, mutilation, mention of torture and death, childbirth, injury, misogyny. Expect canon conforming tone and language. (18/21+)

[Series Masterlist]

Previously

Part XXX

She only ever found little sleep in Dorne, which was cut short by the rising sun and rising Jaehaera.

The girl had become clingy to the point of impracticability, both when it came to her and Aemond, but when it came to early mornings, and privy breaks, it would be her she turned to.

Those things, unlike meals and playtimes, were not shared with Aemond, but rather female servants, her mother or grandmother.

And it seemed she was the closest thing to that now and more often than not, she was woken by the sound of little feet, that belonged neither to Viserys nor Aegon.

Beyond that, she did better than one would have thought.

Once or twice a day she still cried, missing her home, her mother and twin, but overall she could be distracted well by the curiosities all around.

The orange trees were new, and she was delighted by the fact that she could pick the fruit from the tree, bring it to Aemond, who would slice or peel it and turn her plucking to a ready treat.

Unfortunately, Jaehaera had no intention of eating nearly a fraction of all the fruit she picked.

But there were also the springs and fountains, which many other children also bathed in.

At first she hadn’t liked the idea of a locked body of water, like a large bathtub without life or movement, instead of the sea or at least a river to swim in, but Jaehaera grew more and more curious and in the end they had relented.

Luke showed her how to make a little boat from scratch that floated, which delighted her.

But all in all, Jaehaera turned out to be a blessing.

Without her, they would have nothing to do throughout the day but worry.

That, and evade the Dornish, because if they were anything, they were a curiosity for children and old folk alike.

She felt their piercing stares, some curious, some openly hostile, even when no one was to be seen. Soon, she felt them even surrounded by walls.

And she could hear their whispers too, sometimes she could even read the words from their lips if they were beyond her hearing.

‘Eye’ was frequent, ‘Dragon’ too, but also ‘Storm’s End’.

If she had thought back on Dragonstone, that it would be easy for her to wear a pale dress and act the part, she had underestimated the weight of the stares and the constant rummaging of the whisper.

Some were almost afraid to approach her, as if her misfortune would rub off on them. Others tried more or less foolishly to satiate their curiosity in a different manner, joining her in the shade, sometimes bringing bribes in form of cooled drinks and treats and under the guise of polite conversation tried to breech the subject time and time again.

At first, she had feared saying something that might reflect poorly on her mother. After all, from Dragonstone they had decided not answering directly, and instead let rumours and talk weave their webs.

She hadn’t been sure she would withstand a thorough interrogation but she soon learned that they were not in search of the truth but a daring, gruesome tale they already were convinced they knew.

A few youngsters, of the age with Aliandra, tried their luck, but unlike the Princess, they were foolish with their attempts. An older woman attempted to pry it from her by protesting that having her so close to Aemond was cruelty.

Either way, her silence, or evading answers were taken as confirmation for whatever version they had chosen to believe.

It was as if they had begun to hover around her in a circle, only a few daring to come close, but none able to leave her be.

At every moment, she was watched. And even at night, she could feel their gaze until her nervousness melted into her dreams.

In some dreams, the good times, she was home.

Well, not home exactly, but on Dragonstone, with the familiar sight of the skies and the comforting shape of the isle around her, even if most her time, in which they weren’t hunting, was spent inside the rock and heat.

But she knew her family was close. She could smell them, both in the distance, but also on their mounts.

When these kinds of dreams had kept coming at first, she had been frightened by that, but now, she moved consciously closer to Vermax, or Syrax or even Caraxes, yearning for the presence of her family, even in her sleep.

Sometimes she could even see Jace or Baela come to fetch their dragons when it was their turn to patrol the skies.

That was always a comforting sight, that had her lift her head and watch closer, but it only came in her deep and calm sleep, which was scarce in Dorne.

Due to the heat, she thought, or due to the haunting of her other dreams, mere fragments of what she had already seen, of death, pain, ruin, of silver hair matted in blood, of dying and agony.

And of the old, tortured woman in her underground prison of stone and her desperate plea for her brother and sister.

Her desperate mumblings rang in her ear day and night and more than once she wondered if they were a sign of madness or the last thing holding her sanity together.

Either way, they were like a drum of war ringing deep inside her and keeping her alert at all times.

Lucerys was her constant companion.

It was funny in a way. In her dreams, she saw Arrax curled up close to Vermax or Syrax, while he stuck close to her side.

In her earliest childhood, she had shared a crib with Jace, when she wasn’t too ill for it. Then he had shared a room with Luke and she had gotten her own room.

For a while she had then shared with Baela and Rhaena, all three of them together, but with age that had shifted.

Sometimes, though, Jace and her still shared a bed, especially after troubled nights.

She had never shared with Luke, but now they gravitated towards each other day and night.

Aemond shared no such sentiment. He stuck only to his books, and to the shadows, his violet eye switching between the page and them, like a hawk, but his surveying presence offered little comfort, and only ever made Luke more uneasy.

And how would she find peace when her own brother was uneasy?

Only Jaehaera was immune to it, at least while she could still run and play in the ponds, splashing around with her boats, and the occasional Dornish child.

Lord Dayne had a little granddaughter called Dyanna, who got along well with Jaehaera. Both girls, curiously, had violet eyes.

There was something soothing about watching these children at play, like any other children in any other part of the world, with no sword dangling over their heads with a dozen serpents beneath their feet.

Like she had once been, during those happiest of years on Dragonstone, collecting stones and shells, building little fortresses of sand and seaweed, playing chase and hide and seek, or drawing patterns in the sand.

Now, all that seemed as distant as a stranger’s dream. Not her own. Those were…stranger.

She flinched from her thoughts, blinking a few times and reminding herself that it was a dangerous thing to subcome to her daydreams, especially in the unrelenting heat of Dorne.

“Jaehaera, Dyanna, come into the shade.”, she asked.

“In a bit!”, Jaehaera asked.

‘A bit’ she decided to give her, just enough time to walk over to the station under the arches to retrieve something cool to drink for them all.

She asked for three cups, one for her and two for the girls, and the servant eagerly provided, but the goblets were difficult to carry.

While she was still considering how best to carry them, when she felt a shadow fall over her and turned.

Behind her stood a handsome man, dark curls framing his face with warm eyes, and a mischievous smile as if he had not a care in the world.

If she had met him on Dragonstone or Driftmark, his sight would be one she greatly enjoyed - and she would have lobbied to sit next to him at dinner, but they were in Dorne, and he was a member of House Uller.

And that, handsome or not, made him a presence she was rather keen to avoid.

He greeted her by her name, with every courtesy every knight would have shown her.

“We haven’t been properly introduced.”, he continued. “I am Ulyver, son of Lord Uther.”

She gave a single, cold nod that would have earned her a scolding back home.

But she wasn’t home and he wasn’t an honoured guest.

Well, he wasn’t her enemy either. And had done nothing to cause her harm. Could she really hold him accountable for the deeds of long-dead ancestors?

If the Dornish did that, she’d be in trouble indeed.

“Indeed.”, she said, not managing more as she squinted, raking her eyes over him for any sign of betrayal, any hidden knife of weapon.

But when their gazes crossed, she realised in the smirk he wore that he knew exactly what she was doing.

Her cheeks flushed bright red and she quickly looked away, but he only chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I quite understand.”, he said, reaching over her to take the two goblets for the children in his hand.

She had no other option but to take the remaining one and follow.

He was a tall man, whose frame threw shade, but he slowed his steps for her.

“I did not know what to think when I heard we would once again have dragons in Dorne.”, he admitted.

The last time there were dragons in Dorne we came with fire and blood, she thought, as the absence of Tyseleys felt like a shard in her heart.

He was a part of her and missing him was infinitely worse than missing her eye.

He was more than her sight.

“This seems to be a mutual sensation.”, she grumbled.

To her surprise, the man laughed. It was a warm sound that came easy to him.

And it was an honest laugh to that made wrinkles appear in the corner of his eyes.

“You are not glad to be here then, Princess?”, he asked, almost teasing as he watched her with a wide smile.

“It is a great honour to be invited here.”, the Princess answered, the diplomat, the daughter of a queen.

He tilted his head, humming.

“And an honour you’d clearly have passed on.”

It was not a question, and so she did not answer.

She had no intention of playing this game of halftruths with Ulyver Uller in the gardens of Sunspear.

He, however, was not dissuaded in the slightest, even if his smile fell.

“Which makes your presence here ever more commendable.”

“Commendable?”, she asked sharply.

He nodded.

“It is one thing to ask a man to face his enemy, but another entirely for a woman, to ask her to risk herself for a greater cause and yet here you are.”

His eyes, like so many others, flickered to her amber one, but unlike those before her, he wasn’t caught out, no. He was looking at it, truly looking at it, with a mixture of curiosity and even a hint of admiration.

Or was she seeing only what she wanted to see?

“You make me sound as if I accomplished some great feat.”, she said dryly.

“Didn’t you?”, he asked, looking between her two eyes.

She answered him in silence, but he did not take it as an insult.

“You northerners.”, he said, shaking his head.

“Northener? I was born in King’s Landing!”

“Which is north of Dorne.”, Ulyver quipped, unable to hide a cheeky smile. “But what I intended to say, Princess, is that you Northeners have always had trouble handling women who are more than wives or mothers.”

Her brows furrowed.

“What is that supposed to mean?”, she asked sharply.

“You know what I mean. When Nymeria came across the sea, she united herself with the last King of Dorne. They married and married their names and traditions. Princes, not kings, like the Rhoynar, and House Martell became House Nymeros Martell. They were equals. But even your great Aegon - singers, historians, even you Targaryens, you talk of Aegon and his wives, or Aegon and his sisters. Not even Aegon and his Queens. Why is that?”

Why indeed, when everyone knew that Aegon for all his courage was a scholar more than a warrior, only on Balerion.

Visenya was the warrior and strategist, Aegon the student and scholar and Rhaenys the charmer. Visenya defeated hosts, and Rhaenys conquered hearts.

For the first time since he had approached her, Ulyver Uller’s gaze drifted away from her to something behind her.

“I don’t blame you.”, he said, as she turned to follow his gaze. “It seems the problem lies more with your men. Targaryen or not, you Northerners are incapable of giving your women your just returns.”

Just as he put the childrens’ water down, she followed his gaze and saw what he had been looking at. Under the arches, in the shade on the other side of the garden, Aemond had looked up from his book, a single piercing eye like an orb in the sky never leaving them.

“You wear the evidence of your courage with pride.”, he said.

“I wear it. I doubt it is done with pride.”, she argued. In truth it had little to do with pride, but with love and need for Tyseleys presence.

“Any man would be called fierce for it. Why should a woman be denied the same honour?”

With that question he left her.

For a moment, all she could do was inhale deeply to calm herself. Then she called out to Jaehaera and Dyanna, demanding they drink.

They ran over, hair and skirts flattering behind them and began to gulp down the water.

“Not so fast!”, she warned. “You’ll get the hiccups.”

They slowed only little and ran off again, barefeeted and happy.

As children should be.

And her mind once more travelled to her siblings, to little Aegon and Viserys. Were they playing right in this moment? Were they happy? And safe?

Did they even miss her?

She didn’t want them to feel the same heartache she did, but a little wouldn’t hurt, right? They had two other sisters with them, one kinder, one bolder. It would be an easy thing for little minds to forget her, she feared, although she knew it was an irrational fear.

“Don’t you think it a little undignified?”, a voice behind her asked, making her flinch.

“Her running around barefoot in her smallclothes - “

She turned, giving Aemond a hard look.

“Like a child you mean?”, she asked. “What would you rather have her do? Sit in the shade and think of how much she misses her mother and brother?”

His jaw clenched as he tilted her head from side to side.

“Not that, but…we are representing something.”

She scoffed and shook her head.

“We are bonds, not ambassadors.”

His face darkened.

“And yet here you are entertaining Lord Uller’s son.”

She sneered at him.

“If walking twenty paces is entertainment to you I wonder how you haven’t long died of boredom or died of shock after viewing the beyond thrilling passtime called dancing.”

“Do not mock me!”, he sneered, shaking his head.

“Anyhow - I doubt that we’d get anywhere with an Uller. You should try a Dayne or a Dalt, perhaps.”

“I don’t try anything!”, she snapped. “With anyone. All I want is to be left in peace by him and you and Aliandra and everyone else until we can go home. As should you!”, she snapped.

Aemond glared at her as if she had just dared to insult him.

“I will not sit here, do nothing and wait out my time without at least a semblance of purpose. Acting responsible and representative is the very least that can be expected of us.”

She watched him as he curled and uncurled his hand.

“You act the ambassador then, please the Prince and enchant the Princess, and tend to your niece in the process if you are able to do it so much better than me. After all, isn’t she your responsibility and not mine?”, she snapped. “Mayhaps you would try your hand at child rearing? I’m sure you’d make a right spectacle of it.”

That underlying nervousness that had bubbled under the surface broke forth, making her words sound harsher than she had intended.

Frustrated and angry at him, Dorne, the heat, Aegon, his fraud of a mother and everything in between, made her turn her back.

His hands closed around her wrist, turning her back to him.

“I’m not saying that!”, he argued. “I’m not, I’m just…”

He glanced off into the distance.

“Don’t you want to do more than just sit here and wait it out?”, he asked under his breath.

“Of course I don’t want to sit here. I want to leave- I want to go home!”

She took a deep shuddering breath and stared at her feet, as her voice cracked on the final word.

How could he ask such a thing?

Wouldn’t anyone wish to be there? To support and protect their loved ones? Her mother and her twin? Or at least to be there and…know what was happening?

They could all be in trouble for all she knew, fallen right into a trap by the Greens…they could have suffered fates like the silver haired Targaryens in her dreams and she would be none the wiser.

Her fear bubbled up inside her once more as images of her nightmares came to her inner eye once more.

She tried to abandon him once more, but his hand remained where it was, locked around hers ad his gaze turned piercing.

“Aemond, let me go.”, she asked, but he didn’t. Instead, he reached for her face and turned it to meet his gaze.

A frown appeared on his face and she wondered if he noticed the circles that grew ever darker beneath her eyes, the one she shared with Tyseleys, and the one that burned with unshed tears.

“What are you not telling me?”, he asked.

“N-nothing.” she lied. What could she say? That she had dreams of unspoken horrors, including what may or may not be Rhaenys.

They were nightmares, they were all convinced of that. He’d think her a frightened fool for letting her nightmares terrify her so - like a weak and feeble old woman who was scared of shadows and ghosts.

No, she couldn’t tell him. Jace yes, and her other siblings too, but not Aemond.

She couldn’t ask the same compassion Jace showed her from him, the same understanding and lack of ridicule.

But at the same time could she blame him? What would she say if she was presented with the same tale?

Of course not.

“I thought we were allies in this.”, Aemond said, almost accusatory.

“Allies?”, she asked, her voice dropping dangerously. “So where you being my ally, Aemond, when you smirked and snickered while Aliandra tried to rile me against my brother?”

As soon as she had said it, she regretted it immediately. She had laid a new weakness bare for him to exploit, and knowing him, he surely would, especially since it included Luke.

Aemond stared at her in utter disbelief.

“That’s what you are so upset about?”, he asked, shaking his head.

She wanted to leave once more but he held her back.

“Did you honestly expect me to denounce Aegon in front of all of Dorne?”

She didn’t answer, feeling the bitterness rise in her mouth.

“No, tell me - would you do the same?”

“Of course not! My mother is the rightful queen, not a traitorous -”

“Stop right now!”, he hissed, heat beginning to rise in his neck to his face.

“Why?”, she snarled, stepping right up to Aemond, her voice as low as his.

“Because we both know where this leads.”

She did. Because he would not budge and neither would she, and every word would be another crack in the beams of the very thin bridge they had made between them, one that could very well break.

And so she did keep her silence, but to keep a shred of pride, she turned her back on him, not even bothering to walk away.

She wasn’t sure if Aemond was pleased or displeased at her attitude, but he sighed deeply.

“I will not denounce my brother for your sake.”, he said, as if he hadn’t already made that more than obvious, but his tone as gentle as it was determined.

“But either way, I consider you my responsibility, whether you like it or not.”

She contemplated his words, what they meant and what on this earth had moved him to say that.

At least she had, until she had drifted off to a blend of uneasy dreams, showing her flashes of her nightmares once more.

In the end there had been little sleep that night, and no chance to catch up to that later.

That all amounted to a rather poor sight in the mirror, with her unable to hide the dark shades under her eyes that had begun to form.

She wondered if the intricate hair and jewellery truly had a chance to distract from that. Her painted lip, perhaps, but she didn’t like it.

It made her look like a painted doll.

But she was fond of the pale blue gown she wore. It was flowy and soft, with long but airy sleeves that were clasped at the wrist.

It was a lovely dress to spin in, and for once in her life, she wasn’t looking forward to the idea of dancing. Not in Dorne.

But the Prince had organised a celebration of sorts, not in the hall, but in the gardens of the castle.

Already now she could see the glimmer of a thousand yellow gold orbs illuminating the skies.

They had made lamps of paper and string, which seemed rather foolish of her but somehow they were tied to lines high above the dancing.

She only hoped this wasn’t some elaborate plan that would result in the cutting of the strings, which would turn the round orbs into missiles, to rain down on them all.

Then again, it was a dangerously imprecise way of assassination.

No, she told herself, if they wanted them dead they could have a thousand better ways to do it. They could simply bar the door and set fire to their rooms, drag them to some dungeon and slice their throats, send archers, or throw them from the battlements, or slip poison in their food and drink.

In truth, if Qoren Martell wanted them dead, he’d have a thousand ways to do so that wouldn’t risk making a blaze of his gardens and his court.

But that was little comfort, as once more she felt beyond isolated and helpless.

As if she was on top of a pillar in a desert of venomous snakes, unable to climb down, vulnerable to the sun - like in her dreams…

By now they had become almost indistinguishable to her, what came when, who died where, but sometimes she saw flashes clear as day, but that never was the case when she thought of the old woman in the dungeons, her wounds, fresh and old, the way her face was fallen in, her hair fallen out.

And yet there was that determination, that last flicker of fire in her eyes burning as bright as any blaze.

A dream, she told herself. The Maester was sure of it, her mother too and Jace. Nightmares, conjured up by her mind when her body was weakest.

Nightmares, that weren’t real, ghosts not around her but in her head. So to the back of that, she banished them.

Tonight, she’d have to put up appearances once more.

It was selfish, really, she thought as she stepped out into the gardens, to consider such a objectively beautiful thing a chore.

The lamps shone high in the skies like golden stars or tiny suns, strung to pillars and windows and ropes that lay between them.

It was as if looking upon the stars from dragonback, if a dragon in flight stayed still.

There were other lights too, but only at a distance, dousing the gardens in a strange glow, like a shore had just before the sun would rise.

The glow of the light was enough to make out frames, movement and even dresses but the further one tried to look, the more the people turned to shapes, then shadows and then melted into the darkness.

She tried to etch down the looks and outlay of this celebration to memory. Such a beautiful thing shouldn’t remain locked in Dorne.

Unlike the previous feasts, there was no heavy meal or set tables, but rather smaller collections of low benches, sitting pillows, blankets and cushioned chairs.

People were served wine and smaller offerings of food from trays servants carried around on silver platters, no more than a bite.

Myrish tunes were playing from the arches where the musicians lay hidden, as people were encouraged to mingle amongst themselves, moving around the chairs and the dancers.

Lyseni by the looks of them, who in groups of three or four performed on set platforms, were less like the dances of the court where one had one partner only.

Instead they moved as if they were one, a tangle of arms and legs, slithering like a snake, spreading out like a bird, twisting and turning in a slow, sensual way.

It didn’t help propriety to see they were all rather scantily clad. Indeed, the men wore little more than adorned loincloths, with beads catching the gold light, as did their skin and hair which had been oiled like so many Essosi did.

The women wore little more, although made up for that in strings of beads that ran along their arms, or brushed along their thighs.

Somehow they as well as the beads were part of this dance.

Daemon had told them tales of such dances, popular in Old Valyria, where such more sensual dances were considered entertainment, nothing out of the ordinary, but they had only truly survived in the Empire’s most beautiful daughter - in Lys.

And while the dancers were a mix of kinsmen, some having the darker skin of the Summer Isles, others the brown tan and small curls of Meeren, many had the pale silver gold hair of old Valyria, the pale skin and purple eyes.

There was something fascinating about watching these dancers do anything but dance in any way she had ever seen before. For that they were more touching than moving, more tracing each other's bodies and working together than adhering to the commands of age old steps.

Baela would have enjoyed this, as would Daemon, her mother maybe even too, but she would consider Joff and the others too young.

And Alyn, well, he would have laughed his head off at the thought of wearing a beaded loincloth.

Many of the Dornish women had succumbed to the Essosi fashion of more bare gowns, although they had forgone the Quartheen tradition of leaving one breast exposed.

Still, she saw the dies of Tyrosh, the sheer lace of Myr and the long deep cuts of Lys wherever she looked.

In her own gown with although a little more neckline than the one she had worn to the welcome feast, and flowy sleeves that were clasped only at the shoulder and the wrist, she looked rather dull in comparison.

Old Lady Dalt was a grandmother thrice over and dressed more daring than she was.

Baela would have carried these dresses with confidence and Rhaena with grace, no matter what, but she somehow managed to feel both exposed and too prudish for this occasion.

Luke had busied himself with talking to Dyanna’s elderly uncle whose hair had turned from silver to white, but only after she had followed his gaze and caught him watching the dancers.

The poor boy had felt caught, although he had no need to be. She wouldn’t twist it into something it wasn’t to stir up trouble with Rhaena. All he did was look.

And Aemond, well, he was standing with his hands crossed behind his back facing anything but the dancers.

The only thing easing her misery, she realised as her lips curled into an unwilling smile, was seeing Aemond’s was worse.

She decided to approach him from his blind side, although it was her own too, to startle him more.

He flinched, and because he had done for no reason at all, blushed as his jaw tightened.

“Do you not enjoy the dancers, Aemond?”, she asked. “They are old Valyrian in tradition and typically Lyseni in features.”

Both things which he had used against her in their youth. Her lack of Valyrian features made her as ugly as she was stupid for not knowing of the traditions of Old Valyria, he had made her know.

And back then she had taken comfort in knowing that she had fulfilled the highest of Valyrian traditions with Tyseleys, and by now she had long forgone placing high hopes on her appearance.

“Such a wanton display of depravity would not be tolerated in King’s Landing.”, he sneered through clenched teeth, so low only she would hear.

It made her chuckle.

“Wasn’t it you who lectured us on being ambassadorial? Doesn’t that include being open to customs and traditions?”

“Do you hear me protesting?”

She considered his description anything but complementary but decided to keep that against that.

“I don’t see you appreciating. Who knows, perhaps the Prince arranged it specifically for you.”

Blind terror shone in Aemond’s violet eye for but a moment.

Smirking she turned back to survey the others here.

Many were familiar to her by now.

“Have you spoken to Princess Aliandra yet?”, she wondered.

“No.”, was all the reply she got, although wrapped in a sigh.

“Why not? She looks positively tantalizing, doesn’t she?”

She certainly once more left little to the imagination in a deep purple gown adorned with clasps in the shape of golden dragons.

Aemond only huffed, preferring to stay in the shadows and at her back.

“You’ll have more luck than I will at enchanting our hosts.”, she commented as they were passed by one of the Qorgyle women, yellowish silk flattering behind her and exposing her leg up to the thigh thanks to the cut of the gown.

“Although the fact that no one will look twice at me with such competition is a comforting one.”

Aemond’s head snapped around.

“Why would you say that?”, he asked.

“Because, dear uncle,”, she mocked, “you and eye not only lack in completion when it comes to appearance, I am also entirely incompatible with the Dornish fashion.”

But compared to her biting tone, Aemond’s was as soft as silk, although laced with a hint of confusion, as if he couldn’t understand where her words were coming from.

“You are - you look…”

He broke off and shook his head.

“You are,”, he shook his head, averting his eyes, “you are as a Princess should be.”

“Oh really?”, she asked. “How many songs do you know of Princesses with one eye?”

“That’s not…that’s not what I mean.”, he mumbled, still not looking at her.

Whatever was going on with him was driving her impatience. The goal of agitating him had busied her nerves so far but somehow along the course he seemed to have strayed away from the argument, but in its replacement he offered her nothing but confusion.

And since he intended on doing nothing more, since he fell back to silence, she decided to continue on.

Despite her general unease, it wouldn’t do to remain standing here with Aemond in the shadows.

And so she continued to wander, watching the dancers and holding a drink only to ensure no one offered her another.

She watched Prince Qyle and a group of peers, men and women alike, all engaged in laughter and drinking.

Princess Aliandra, after exchanging a few words with Aemond and receiving as much distraction as she had, had turned away to other older warriors.

The Prince was sitting and surveying it all with a soothing, calm expression on his face.

“Princess.”, she heard, making her turn.

There was Ulyver Uller once more, smiling as he saw her as if she was an old friend, with no trace of unease anywhere near him, indeed he looked as if he didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘worry’.

“Blue suits you well.”, he complimented with a smirk. “Brings out the gold in both your eyes.”

There was something about the way he was undeterred when it came to addressing and acknowledging her eye head on, instead treating it as a part of her, one he could look at without staring, and even compliment made it hard to dislike him.

That alone set him apart from all the other Dornish she had encountered.

He had a goblet of wine in his hand and an old man at his side.

His face was cut in a similar way, broad jaws, sharp eyes, black hair that was beginning to fade to white.

“May I present my father, Lord Uther Uller of Hellholt.”

The man stretched out his hand and took hers, pressing a kiss to her ring.

It was a simple thing, a band of silver and a pale turquoise stone their grandfather had brought back from his travels. Baela and Rhaena had the same, and their grandmother had a necklace.

But as he pulled his hand back, she could see the ring he wore on the second finger of his hand, and as she saw it, her heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t set in silver, like her ring, or gold like that of Princess Aliandra.

Instead, it was a warmer, softer material most were unfamiliar with, but she knew it by sight, by feel, by smell.

She had seen it on necklaces, on hilts of swords, on carvings on Dragonstone and on the skeletons deep down in the dragonmont when she saw through Tyseleys eyes.

Dragonbone.

In it were set two rectangular stones, one paler than the other.

There was only little light, but she knew one would be yellow, and the other would be red, the very same shade so that a drop of blood could go unnoticed until it began to drip.

And she knew she had seen that ring before.

Part XXXI is coming soon

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts xx

House of the Dragon Taglist

@crazylokonugget @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @rapoficeandfire @sabii5 @itsdanajane16 @cynic-spirit @dark-night-sky-99 @madislayyy

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maxillness · 2 months

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Loving Rivalry || NL1 x coach!reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, drunk(ish) sex, yearning, oral (F receiving), fingering, praise kink, marking up, sub!niklas

Wordcount: 1.2k

Can proudly say I’ve had a crush on him since I was 10

Also, thank you @nilletellsstories for encouraging me to post this 🫶

It came as a surprise for the news and her fans when she retired from her handball career. It was news all over the world

She was a world famous and loved player. She was the best there was. She was announced the world best player 3 years in a row

It came more of a shock for the press, fans, and other teams when she was announced as the new coach for her home country’s national team

She had pulled the team all the way to the finals of the World Cup. She and the team were in the bar, probably a bad idea, given they had a final match to play, but really, they didn’t care that much at the moment

A few hours in, and she had noticed they weren’t the only team celebrating their semi-final win. She spotted the Danish national team walking into the bar as well

This confused her, knowing their coach was strict around drinking as a big match was coming up

She didn’t pay the team much notice until one of the players came up to her “Congrats on your recent win” It was the team captain, Niklas Landin

“Thanks. Likewise, was really impressed by your saves” She had to look up because of their height difference

“Thank you” Even in the dark lightning in the room, she could see the faint blush on his cheeks “How does it feel to be back in the sport?” She could hear in his voice he spoke nonsense to keep the conversation going

“I didn’t think it would be that much of a difference between playing and coaching, but it’s definitely difficult, but it’s also nice, knowing there are people relying on my decisions” The lightning in the room lit his face up in a way that made her see him differently than when she had seen him in interviews

“I bet it is” He cleared his throat “It came as a shock to us all when they announced you would be the new coach” His comment made her chuckle

“I must admit, I didn’t think it would be such a big deal that I stepped off, or became a coach for that matter” She looked down into her almost empty glass

“You’re world known, how would it come as a surprise to you?” At this point, leaning against the bar, hurt her side, but she really didn’t care

“I don’t know. Maybe because I didn’t think about it that much back then” She shrugged looking up at him again

Those piercing blue eyes did something to her she couldn’t explain, or noticed until now. Maybe it was because of the alcohol, or maybe the way they stood so close that she could feel the warmth of his body, or smell his cologne, but she felt a strange tingle inside her she hadn’t felt in a long time

In this light, she noticed things she really hadn’t before. The way his eyes sparkled, the way his lips always had a curl in the corner forming a slight smile, the way the veins in his hands were visible, the way his hair looked incredibly soft

Again, maybe it was because of the alcohol, but something screamed inside her, wanting to have him under her. She knew it was wrong, so wrong on many levels. They were going against each other in a few days. It would ruin his performance, and even as rivals, she didn’t want that from him, she didn’t want to be the one to ruin his match. She wouldn’t be playing fair

Her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips. To any by-passers, it would seem innocent, but to her, it was much more. She was yearning to have him

Before she could think any further, their lips were pressed together, and his hand rested lightly on her jaw

Their lips moved in sync, and she could taste the mix of wine and another liquor on his lips. All her thoughts about not wanting to ruin his match had disappeared

Her glass was placed on the table before both her hands went to his waist, pulling him closer

“You live close, don’t you?” This was the only time she was thankful the World Cup was held in her country

Her hands fiddled with her keys as Niklas kept kissing the side of her neck, holding her hips close to him

She had finally gotten the door open. Carelessly, they threw their jackets on the floor, their shoes following shortly after, their lips only parting to take a breath

She pushed on his waist, backing him up towards her bedroom, their lips still connected. They only parted to take their clothes off, throwing them on the floor

He gently laid her back on the foot of her bed, going down on his knees, his face close to her bare cunt

His lips went to her inner thighs, kissing and slightly sucking on her sensitive skin. His actions draw out small whines

“Stop fucking teasing” Her hand came to grab his hair, pulling him away from her thighs

Her wish was granted when she felt his tongue going through her folds, drawing out a loud moan from her when he went over her clit

Her moans got more lewd and pornographic as he entered two of his fingers into her cunt. He curled his fingers, hitting the right spot inside her

“Fuck, right there. Fuck, don’t stop” Her hand tightened in his hair as her other clung to the sheets beneath her

It didn’t take long for her to start clenching around his fingers. She started grinding her hips on his face, getting closer and closer to her orgasm

“Fuck, I’m gonna come” Her thighs shook as she came around his fingers

His lips travelled up her body, soothing her out of her orgasm. His lips stopped at her jaw before they connected to her own lips. She groaned as she tasted herself on him

She had gotten her strength back, turning them both around, and straddling his hips. He groaned and threw his head back into the bed as her spit-covered hand stroked him a few times, before lining herself up with his cock

She slowly sank down onto him, drawing moans out of both of them. Her movements were still as she adjusted to his size

When she was finally adjusted, she started moving slowly, making Niklas grip her hips even harder

She leaned down, her lips connecting to his neck. This new position gained her clit would push against his pelvic bone, getting her closer to her orgasm, yet again

“Fuck, you’re filling me up so good” Her words made him whimper

Her lips travelled over his throat and to the other side of his neck, as well as over his collarbone. She made sure to leave marks along the way, making sure they would stay until the match

“Fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m so close” He whimpered, his words sending vibrations all through her body

“Come for me,” She said, which was the only words he needed to be pulled over the edge, holding her down, making her come for the second time

The kiss this time was soft and gentle, not like earlier “You’ve just ruined my focus at the match, you know that, right?” He asked, panting under her

“Don’t blame me. You kissed me, not the other way around”

#smut #niklas landin #niklas landin x reader #niklas landin smut #niklas landin x reader smut #sub!niklas landin

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armpirate · 9 months

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The Only One || JJK || Ch. 18

Pairings: mafia!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, mafia, contract relationship

Warnings: Prostitution, torture, blood, use of drugs and weapons

Summary: You've always wished for a better life. Every single day at work, you were hoping something would change. Although you didn't think that change would come in the form of one mysterious man and a contract.

His controlling and selfish behaviour only wanted to keep you away from any other man that wasn't him, and you only had to wait for him.

Too bad you really thought you'd be smarter than Jeon Jungkook.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Jungkook looked around, keeping his lips shut as he waited for any of the men present to speak up and give an update on the current situation on each one of their territories. Although he knew if there had been any problem, he'd have known about it as soon as it came up. He just wanted to make sure everything was working out as usual.

And it was like that.

The retro sound of the music outside the room they were in accompanied Jin's words on how everything was working perfectly fine in Japan. It was probably the territory that worried them all the most, dealing with the different mafias there, and being able to find some type of balance -even if that meant they didn't have absolute power, nor benefits- was pretty difficult at first. And it caused a fair amount of discussions and arguments about it. Almost being close to giving up the territory if it hadn't been for Jin and his contacts -and his strange charm that made one of the women go completely nuts for him.

—What about you? —Jungkook asked, looking over at Jimin standing next to Yoongi.

—Fine —he shrugged—. Everything's fine. You made sure of it, didn't you?

His eyebrows slightly furrowed at that poisoned comment. Jungkook wondered if it was possible that Jimin was aware of the deal he made with Pedro back in Spain, but he discarded it as soon as his blond friend stopped speaking. He was sure that, if Jimin was aware of what he did, he'd have exposed him in front of the rest of the crew.

It was just something in him. Whenever he wanted to piss him off, he brought up something that could make the others throw a tantrum at Jungkook. But that time he didn't. And he understood the reason behind that poisonous tone: his ego was still hurt over the fact that Pedro didn't take his word seriously, and still needed Jungkook to show up there and close the deal for him.

While the increasing heavy tension grew between them, the others just threw glances at each other, unable to understand what was going on between those two.

—What about you? —Namjoon finally interrupted— How's everything going with the Choi family?

—I'm keeping it as cordial as I'm able to —Jungkook finally looked at him.

—Doesn't seem like you're trying too hard —he snapped back—, I didn't see any of them at the party.

Jungkook twisted his pierced lips, throwing his head back before glancing at the tall bulked man that was stepping closer to his desk.

—I said I'm keeping it cordial, not that I'm licking their buttholes —he tilted his head.

Namjoon looked at the man in front of him, and tried to hold back the annoyance that was running through his body when that arrogant look came out of Jungkook's eyes after that comment. He'd known him since he was a kid, and he'd been a witness of every step he took until he became the man that he was in that moment, but it pissed him off to death when he entered that attitude. As if he was never wrong, and no one would do it better than him.

Because that was a lie. He knew he'd do it better anytime.

—I'm just saying that...

Jungkook didn't let him finish. He just stood up while buttoning his blazer again, a sign that the meeting was over for him.

—I know what you're saying —he commented, bending closer to Namjoon, who was now supporting the weight of his body on the tip of his fingers against the desk—. And I don't care about having a close relationship with that family. I don't want their noses in my business. Cordial and a good relationship is secured, but I don't want them near anything that has to do with me. Do you understand that? —he tilted his head.

Pressing his thick lips together in resignation, Namjoon nodded and stepped back. He knew Jungkook was making a mistake by trying to burn any bridges that could link them to the Choi family, he knew that party could have big consequences and the Bangtan clan would suffer them all only because Jungkook can't be able to deal with Sanhyuk after they almost fought for a woman.

—Joon, I'm sure he knows what he's doing —Yoongi's voice interrupted from somewhere in the room—. It's an anniversary for our clan, I see no point for the Choi family to be here.

Namjoon sighed at that comment. If there was someone that would come at Jungkook's defense out of the six, that'd be Yoongi -which was something that didn't really surprise him, he kind of expected it at that point in the argument. Yoongi always had a soft spot for Jungkook, not because he was the leader and the person who had power among them, but because their parents were the closest, something that led to both of them to basically grow together.

—You all should calm down —Jin stepped forward—. This is supposed to be a party, so let's just celebrate we're going strong for another year. Get some drinks, talk with some girls... Have some fun, you know —he clapped Joon's back, trying to cheer him up.

—Head out first, I need to do some things here —Jungkook mentioned, resting his back on the big chair.

Not wanting to get into a new argument, they all nodded and left the room slowly, leaving him alone back again. He rested his head over the comfortable fabric, losing himself in his thoughts, not surprised by the route those were taking. His head wasn't on the constant push and pull with Namjoon, or the thick silence that came from Jimin, but the dangerous woman that was hanging around his house as if it weren't a big deal. Not only that, but he was unable to get out of his head the way she kept looking for his attention the past week, and how she almost gave in to him after only a few words. He remembered the way her plumped lips parted as pleasure ran through her, how her legs parted as she expected more... and he blamed his pride for rejecting all that, only because he wanted to hear directly from her how bad she wanted him. If he hadn't been so harsh, he probably would've sunk deep inside in between her perfectly worked legs.

She was driving him insane, and she wasn't even there.

Jungkook clicked his tongue, and tilted his head. Maybe he should've invited her, and let the other members know about her existence. They didn't need to know how she got there, only that she would be around him -maybe a little bit too much. It'd definitely make things easier for everybody, especially for him.

And that was all he needed to convince himself to stand up and ask for one of his men to drive him home, so he could come and go fast. He was expecting to find her lying on the couch, or maybe in the library he settled for her only, but when he found his place empty and silent, his senses were screaming at him something was wrong. Trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, Jungkook headed upstairs, collapsing into her room just to find no one there. Wrinkled clothes that were messily all over her bed were the only sign of her.

—Where the fuck is she? —he asked annoyed, as soon as he got downstairs and met with the bodyguard at the front door.

—She left with Jihu a while ago —the tall man answered, confused—. Jihu said...

—Dead —his boss replied—. He just said out loud his sentence to death —Jungkook sighed, placing both of his hands on his waist as he tried to gain some autocontrol—. Where did they go?

—The party —his frown got deeper.

Suddenly, any hint of annoyance disappeared. And for the first time, after working with him for so long, the two men that were getting ready to handle the unleashed beast Jungkook could turn to see him worried.

✸ ✸ ✸

She didn't bother to get herself in fancier clothes after -basically- forcing Jihu to take her to Jungkook's hotel, but she regretted her decision when she saw some of the women at the party, right after the bouncer allowed them in after he recognized the man she came with. The swanky jewelry hanging on their necks, ears and wrists; or the flamboyant dresses they all were wearing while she was still on her jeans and a simple t-shirt. It wasn't like she was ever thinking of being part of the party -she actually just wanted to ruin it for Jungkook-, but the dirty looks that kept falling on her, following Jihu up close were making her uncomfortable.

—I'll look for Jeon —Jihu informed her—. You wait here —he demanded.

Aware that it wouldn't be enough with just telling her, his eyes pierced through her with raised eyebrows, waiting for a verbal reply from her.

—I will —she answered with a tired tone.

She sighed hard, resting her back on the wall while her arms crossed over her chest. While looking at the small groups chatting among one another, she wondered if all those people did the same things Jungkook did, or if they were normal rich people that were just hoping to get a boost in their social status.

It was so hard for her to tell.

—Wow, look who we have here —a male voice interrupted her thoughts.

When she looked up to the owner, she met with someone she didn't expect to find there. Sanhyuk was looking at her with a sided smile and his tilted head, while two gorillas watched his back behind him.

—Has no one ever told you how to dress for a party?

Considering he was the only ticket she managed to find to get her ass back home, she bit her tongue and clicked it, looking away from him.

—I wasn't invited —she mentioned—, I sneaked inside. So technically I have no reason to dress up.

—You already got enough... —he stopped for a few seconds so he could come up with the right word— attention by yourself.

She squinted her eyes, trying to get what he meant, but it only took her a second to understand what he meant. Her clothes weren't the only thing making some heads turn to her place. Y/n pressed her lips tight, trying to come up with something that could distract her from those curious eyes she had just been aware of.

—Met with Jungkook yet?

Her eyes were drawn back to him, smirk never leaving his face while his dark eyes kept looking her up and down.

—No, your snitch went to look for him.

That comment made him chuckle, head slightly falling back at the same time his eyes scanned the place. If there was a place where a war should be started, it was that one definitely. Just one mistake from Jungkook, and he'd be done.

His smile widened when he spotted Jin and Namjoon somewhere across the room, looking around while they chatted comfortably over the music.

—Come with me —he whispered.

—I need to wait for...

—Trust me, if you follow me, you won't even see his face again.

It was the determined tone in his voice that got all of her attention. It wasn't like she needed a lot of reassurance, or big promises, the fact that he was willing to help her was enough. She was desperate, and he seemed to have a solution.

It was simple.

Looking around, Y/n made sure no recognizable faces had their eyes on her before she started following him. The music kept getting louder with every step they took, and the vibrations from the speakers ran through her body. It was then when she realized they were near the stage.

—What are you planning?

—Claim you.

Sanhyuk said that so casually, that she doubted whether to feel offended or skip that to directly slap his face.

Claim her? As if she were an object?

—Don't give me that look —he warned her—. If I claim you, Jungkook will have no other choice but to give up on you.

Y/n, who still didn't understand anything he was saying, kept looking at him waiting for a better explanation.

—There are some rules among our families. One of them is not to steal. Territories, objects, women... —he noticed her clenched fists while she tried to hold back—. That would be enough to terminate all peace accords. He didn't claim you, which means that you don't exist for anyone in this room. If we step out there together, the contract will be over, it won't have any value.

—What do you gain from this? —she asked.

—Taking you away from Jungkook —Sanhyuk pinched her chin—. And knowing him, he probably won't stay still after his ego is hurt, which means I'll be able to fight for my territory as well. It's a win-win.

—If we step out there, will I be able to get back home?

—You have my word.

She was given two choices, but it wasn't like neither of them were better than the other.

Taglist: @kaiparkerwifes @sheylamc @amy2006jones

#fanfic #ff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookxreader #jk #bts #wattpad #kookie #smut #jungkook smut #tattoistjk #mafia!au #The Only One #armpirate

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umicatto · 8 months

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Count von Count counting humans to the End! Or numbers crunching in EP5.

Let's take a look at how they count people/human on the island.

First, after they added Erika and the rest of the cousins joined 'Battler' counts the number of human. He specifically uses his personal pronoun with inverted commas- 'I' or 'ore' in Japanese- and sees from his piece's eyes, apparently.

"The number of humans on this island has returned to 18… `I' glanced around at the humans in the parlor."

---after listing every character in the parlor---

"This is everyone. The true number of people on the island at the moment..."

It's unconvient for him that Bernkastel control piece Battler during this time and Meta-Battler doesn't know about the difference between person and human. Now then, what I want to approach?

Claim: "Battler is not the detective/is an accomplice. Thus, he is an unreliable character. Therefore, he could see Shannon and Kanon together."

This is probably the common fan explanation and Battler also admitted it with red truth. However, it's intriguing that he uses his possesiv pronoun with inverted commas, again.

"Furudo Erika is the detective, and the `me' in this game isn't one."

It's hard to track what character was actually refered to, because Battler effectively represent more different versions of himself (Piece, Fantasy and Meta). It it also true for other characters like Beato, Maria or Erika.

Meta Battler didn't make this distinction anymore in further red truths.

Example: "The fact that I claimed to have seen Grandfather is prooooooooooooff!!!"

Oof, does this mean we can bend Battler's truths to the point that he, his Meta Version, objectively saw Kinzo on the game board? Yes, we might have different versions of red truth, but this might be a real mind f***! But let's be fair and don't overcomplicate things.

"Does it go against the rules of Beato's game?" "No, it does not. Lambdadelta-sama actually does understand the rules of Milady's game very well. …However…"

So it might be true that Meta Battler just counted everyone in the parlor, why exactly did he need explicitely view from his very piece's eyes (in other words: control his piece Battler) in this moment instead of not just puts him self in piece Battler's shoes? Imo, it's unnecessary and I thought the fan explanation lack this specific detail (and it's a re-telling, the story was almost finished) . It might be true that piece Battler's pov might be unreliable, but it's debateable that we are reading from piece Battler's eyes in the parlor scene. The manga give us the chance to believe "it's from Battler's perspective" theory. So, can we trust Erika's deduction? No, because she was a schemer.

Meta Battler counts 18 humans. Piece Battler doesn't count. Erika cannot be trusted.

We have another counting in this game.

Let's see whether Erika knows the true number or not. At least she knows about Shannon and Kanon.

Sidenote: The manga states that Erika know about Kanon, but it is shown she doesn't see him in the parlor.

In the chapter Ten Wedges to Pierce Witches Erika suspects that 13 lives will be taken and drifts in a speech about mystery books.

"As far as I know, the mystery novel with the most dead people in a serial murder was 'And then there were none' by Agatha Christie, which had 10 deaths. In the realm of Japanese mysteries, it's probably 'The Tokyo Zodiac Murders' by Shimada Souji. Though there were less than 10 deaths in that one."

"And if everyone on this island is killed... That would make it a historical achievement in the world of serial murder mysteries. With even more deaths than the longest murder mystery in the world and the longest one in Japan put together, don't you see?! Hey, didn't you know? Everyone?"

It's an important clue that Erika is indeed aware of the lowest number of people on the island. "What does this mean?" It means that the manga hasn't an excuse to explain it at all and Erika knows of both (without really showing it) - Erika would mislead the cast because she intentionally ignore the "one missing person" and claims that Natsuhi is the murderer after Hideyoshi's death. In the other hand, Erika join with the cast 4 times (parlor after the first Twilight, Kinzo's study, the closed guest room, the parlor after the 2nd Twilight) and she doesn't notice that 1 is always missing? The manga seems not notice this but the canon explanation got a self-induced plothole because Erika apparently knows about Shannon and Kanon but doesn't noticed that one is always missing. Strange! In that case, she shows her unreliable narration on a silver plate. To the numbers:

'And then there were none' has 10 deaths (9 murders and 1 suicide in the classic version).

'The Tokyo Zodiac Murders' has 7 deaths (6 murders and 1 suicide).

(I don't know 'Non-serial Murders''s plot, it is stated it has the same number of people as in 'The Tokyo Zodiac Murders').

This makes 18 deaths. Therefore, Erika knows at least Shannon OR Kanon if she counts Kinzo, too. I already mentioned it in my Erikatrice theory: The red key "The window wasn't opened once after the rain started" means Erika knew atleast about an open window and that Natsuhi was lying about Kinzo's dissapearance.

"Rudolf. The window was locked, right?" "...Yeah. That's why I smashed the glass." "The other windows are all locked as well. They're built so that you can't lock them from the outside...!"

Erika knows all the people, including Kinzo.

Last words: Obviously, the number of people is clear, but not the number of humans. I showed that the manga hurt itself by showing Erika's deduction which would explain Battler's false POV but twisted her own POV. Sometimes, I wish the manga wouldn't added these extra.

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incogni-tome · 2 years

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Briar’s Own Bloom (Twst Lilia - NSFW)

Pairing: Lilia/Reader Rating: NSFW/18+ Tags: mentions of mild violence, implied somnophilia (reader is very willing and receptive about it, however), mild size difference, vaginal fingering, praising, edging, body worship, dry humping, dom, sweet Lilia Words: 3k Summary: Your first visit to Briar Valley is turned into an almost nightmare when you find yourself trapped among the wrong crowd, before Lilia sweeps in to your rescue. But perhaps, your beautiful, timeless fae is not all pleased, at your inability to honor your promises. Author’s Notes: This was an indulgent ride and one I thoroughly enjoyed, Lilia is such fun! I hope you’ll enjoy your read.

Perhaps you should’ve considered your chances before attempting to outwit a fae, right within its domain. You did not quite think the fae capable of lies, as this bunch before you, ensnared into their trap before you could think to blink. The previously bright, fascinating cobbled streets of Briar valley seem much more enshrouded and dark within the narrow alley they’ve holed you up against.

Lilia’s merry words of caution come to mind in that instant, perhaps dismissed out of conscious thought due to the manner he’d uttered them in; almost an after-thought. Even as you’re reminded of how his gaze stayed upon yours as he’d waited on your promise: to not wander and be taken in by the enchantments that permeated his fair country.

The inhumane horned creature closest to you — the largest among your three current captors — tips his head uncomfortably close to your neck and sniffs. “This one’s clothes alone would sell for a pretty thaumark.” A hand you bring up on instinct to strike at the man but he grabs onto your wrist before you deal any damage, pressing his body closer against yours. You squirm within his hold, futile as it feels, biding time to cut in a desperate escape, or at least until your friends discover your folly and come to your rescue.

Your heart thrums harder over its beats in rising anxiety, just as your captor drags your face closer, an eerie light within that pale watery gaze. “You want our dracaena altissima, human child?” He inquires, blade-sharp mirth within his wide smile.

“…Yes,” you breathe, hoping against despairing hope they’d let you leave, if your price is right, for the Briar valley exclusive herb your steps initially brought you into this damned place for. “I have the thaumarks to pay for your services, gentlemen, if you’d… amend your ways and act like gentlemen.”

Their grins are terrifying things, the gnarled smoke of nightmares, as they huddle in closer. Filthy hands reaching for; settling upon your neck, skirting down against your waist as if appraising. You open your mouth to scream before their laughter consumes all sound, and quivers within your very marrow, as they gasp your fate in between ugly guffaws. “Then you can earn the dracaena altissima through your body, human. A young, healthy one like you would fetch in quite the gold, what say you?”

Your heart beat’s an incessant series of loud, ringing sounds within your ears, sweat slicking against your struggling body, pasting your shirt fast against your back. Raising a leg to aim a swing at them in defense, just as Jack taught you once, as your last ditch attempt. Before their vile howls of laughter are pierced through all at once, by lilting sniggers, far quiet and somehow... far more menacing. Floating in, disjointed amongst their sounds of revulsion, your heart nearly leaps of joy.

And before words of relief can leave your aching throat, the trio in front is whipped far out of reach, within a moment’s blink. The sickening sound of bones cracking, reaches your ears a swift second before you feel Silver’s warmth close by.

Farther out, the welcoming chimes of his voice ring through and soothe your nerves. “My, what do we have here? Naughty lads who’ve got no business being as rowdy as they are in, Malleus’ territory.”

You feel Silver’s quiet reassurance, a gentle hand he slips across your shoulder.

“L-L-Lilia-sama! It was that filthy human! W-we wouldn’t, otherwise, dare—”

“But we’ve clearly dared, haven’t we? And harmed a precious guest of our Malleus.” Lilia’s clear, chiding tone, almost as if speaking to children, is at discordant odds with the terror you hear in your assailants’ voices.

Silver’s hand squeezing at your shoulder is what nips your attention back to his low query. “Are you alright?” You don’t trust yourself to speak just yet, nodding instead in answer.

Silver slips a surreptitious step forward, effectively blocking your sight of Lilia entirely. “Please don’t look at Father right now.” Meeting his somewhat taut gaze, you nod your assent once more — albeit slow, but you’re done disobeying them for the day — letting him smooth a gloved hand across your vision, the last sight you see, of Silver’s lips shaping rapid, over words of a spell.

The last you hear of Lilia’s voice, still so very airy and bright, within that tense atmosphere, “Which hand was it, that touched our precious guest? Come, come, show me those fingers, boys.”

Muted cries of terrified agony following your easy spiral into darkness.

Warm leather and an incessant cool drag; two opposing sensations trek slow patterns across your bare skin, soothing yet ticklish, it rocks you gently out of dreamless slumber. And then, immediate terrified realization: of that strange touch across your body, springing to mind dark remembrance of the ruffians that had you cornered within that stifling back-alley.

An arm you throw out in an instinctive fit of panic to overpower your captor before it’s seized within a firm, gentle grip. A familiar voice, piping in mild surprise, “Be calm, it’s only me”

And your flight-or-fight response falls slack instantly to hear Lilia’s voice. Wide, ruby eyes coming into view within your foggy vision, you sag against his grip, just as he releases your wrist. “Lilia…”

His thin lips stretch into a warm smile. “No need to be so afraid. You’re safe now, Prefect.”

Recalling the entire incident to mind, at last, “Oh! Thank you for saving m—” Before your gratitude dies on your tongue, to witness your state of undress; stark naked from the waist up. Lilia’s hands are on either side of your chest, thumbs slipping slow circles across sensitive skin. Sudden, startled mortification burns across your face at your strange, compromising positions. You try and squirm away from his grasp, on instinct but Lilia’s fingers stay adamant, digging in deep, as he hauls you even closer and nearly onto his lap.

That thin, beautiful smile pulls wider to reveal twin tips of fine canines, almost sinister. “Oh-oh, easy, you’ve not yet recovered. Why do you shy away from me?”

You sputter over an explanation that seems obvious… confusing, to your still muzzled brain. You’re not sure why Lilia’s touching you the way he is. The unsettling intimacy of his startling proximity and the way his seemingly delicate digits maintain an unyielding, harsh grip upon your smaller body, tracing shapes across your waist, has your mind tumbling into unwanted places. You’re undeniably warm, despite his cool touch.

“I… did not expect to be waking up like this exactly. Naked, with you on top of me,” you breathe at last, encasing his gloved hand with yours.

His laughter rings like chimes disturbed by a delicate touch of wind, “You humans with your droll sensitivities, how very precious.”

Raising a brow in question as his gentle amusement dashes all your ideas of being roused to wakefulness by Lilia’s stimulation of your body. Perhaps more innocent than you first considered… hoped it was. You clear your throat, hoping to dispel the discomfiting heat searing your cheeks. “Can I know what you are doing then?”

“Healing you.” A prompt press of fingers dragging beneath the give of your breasts, follows that response. You tremble at his touch. “Do you hurt anywhere?” He asks.

“Just a bit... numb where you’re touching.”

“That is good news. The troll fey you encountered are not terribly powerful creatures but they did attempt to subject you to a weak petrification spell.”

“Petrification?”

“Indeed. There were certain places on you found ‘touched’, once Silver retrieved you.” His merry gaze seems to lose its mirth in that moment. Unkind and cool, as if death’s specter itself fulgurates within blood-red garnet.

You blink, but Lilia’s smile is just as wide and unconcerned once more, mischief back and bright within his eyes. “But it’s no longer a concern as I have just finished tending to you.”

You open your mouth to voice further inquiries before they die on your tongue; his touch turning far decided and keener to be mistaken as innocuous. “However,” His fingers pluck a dance about the circle of your breasts before sweeping testing thumbs against the puckered peaks of them An action so deliberate, it reels a shaky gasp out of you. “I would like to know what curios flitter about in your mind right now, sweet, young one.”

Your lie is a swift, instinctive thing. “Nothing at all, nothing of consequence.” You know exactly what Lilia is asking of you, it drags a hot flush back into your face, skittering eyes refusing to meet his. You're not sure you can fib through, with any degree of success, in the face of one belonging to a species that does not lie, and does not let that become their flaw. Not even remotely.

His soft titters are tell-tale against the warmth of your cheek, his lips sinking onto the skin in a brief kiss. “What’s this?” The edge of a dark nail flicks about one pebbled nipple, index and thumb pinching for the shortest, pleasurable moment before he glides back entirely and you loose a defeated cry at the loss of him. “Do these eyes of mine fool me? Do you not want me touching you then? My work here is done, I suppose. Would you like to rest your weary head now? You’ve had a long day, after all.”

“No, please, your hands—”

His movements are fluid and whip swift, you do not catch him sink a thigh in between your desperate legs as they attempt to close, for any amount of friction, until you feel him impeding you. Choosing instead to rub your thighs against his clothed one, in protest.

Lilia’s smile is an aching balm as he looks down upon you, smoothing a curious thumb against your cheek. “This is why I ask for your truth, sweet one. Why do I smell arousal wafting off you when your mouth has done nothing but deny less than honorable intentions?” He tucks his face down in between the space of your heaving breasts, nosing down the line of your torso, denting into the squish of your stomach, right where the waistband of your skirt lies, as if breathing you in.

His name leaves you in garbled distress, body twitching against his unyielding strength shackling you down.

“Mmm, and what do we have to say for ourselves? I’m always listening.”

“I want you, Lilia, please.” You all but whine, seeds of humiliation tossed to the winds underneath your fae’s touch. Adding for good measure, "It hurts.”

"Oh, does it? Let me help you then.” His palms now shape against your cheeks, gentle, his smile is wide and appraising. “I’m so proud of you, pretty bloom. It’s never a good idea to lie so don’t do that again.” His voice is just as soft in its reproach as the hands that cradle you and yet, you gather the firm instruction commingled within that airy tone, a meaning deeper and indicating more than just your current little fibs. You’re so desperate for him to touch and soothe you, however, your mind glosses over that realization quickly, leaning into his touch.

“You lovely creatures are so honest in your slumber. I’m glad you’re trying your best to emulate that candor even in your current state.” His mouth drops to your body once more, quick tongue lapping a thin streak against the side of your ribs. You squirm at the sensation, pressing a hand into his hair, fingers threading through to hold. “My intent was chaste when I first uncovered you, pretty one. Your sweet mouth, however, wouldn’t stop crooning my name over and over, even as you slept. So aroused were you with just a touch of my corporal spell.” That dark wine gaze lifts to meet yours and stays. “It was quite the vile ordeal, not being able to kiss you.” He sounds almost doleful at the recollection.

Your mouth’s parched from how he’s made you pant for him and the way that strange flame seems to burn dark, within that bright gaze, has you croaking, “Why didn’t you then?”

His smile returns, so wide, you catch the glint of fangs within it. “Would you have liked me to?” He ducks to warm a kiss right against the corner of your lips, just as you mouth yes. “I refrained because I like the way you kiss me in return, gasping and so very flushed. Look. You are right now, too.”

His tongue seeps into your mouth before his compliment can burn you even brighter, breaking your moans against him instead. Lilia’s kisses are wet, so wet and thorough, you feel more as if he’s savoring you, as if to consume you whole.

You’re warbling over a gasping breath as soon as he pulls apart on a final suck of your tongue, tracing his own against an increasingly damp grin that stirs arousal, to slick your panties. His knee’s tucking in expert press-release motions against your drenched center, skirting you over the edge of pleasure. Not quite letting you come nor allowing calm to settle into your nerves; he dangles you within unrest. “And because you’d been about stirring mischief. I don’t make a habit of spoiling naughty ones.”

His words, albeit without his earlier rebuke, pluck keen remorse within your chest. “I’m sorry for the trouble I caused you. For not listening.”

He smiles; pleased joy. “You’ve reflected over your mistakes well and that’s good. I’ll forgive you, my little one. They didn’t harm you otherwise, yes?” Lilia’s mouth descends on you once more, relaxing on your denial. Flittering kisses onto your face, you feel his adoration swimming off of him in the fond catch of his lips as he loves all of you. Across your forehead. your lids apiece, cheeks and nose. You quiver within his embrace with an entirely different kind of pleasure; lips pulling apart on breathless laughter, all on their own. Happiness he draws out of you, crinkling Lilia’s gaze in turn; he hums, “One of the dearest sounds to grace our worlds.”

You shake your head, arms reaching to cradle him close, pressing against the circle of his neck. Laying your own kiss against the underside of his jaw. “Love you, need you.”

His smile’s beautiful; he mirrors your words back to you in the soft, cool breaths he tucks against your parted lips. “Our very own briar bloom, I desire you every moment.”

And then, his fingers are dancing across your pelvis, skating a path down the zipper of your skirt, to let it fall slack until you are bare, save for your panties. Another urging warble of his name prompts his lilting laughter, settling as sweet as music into your warmed ears.

Before he, at last, slips a hand down the waistband of your underwear; you feel the pads of mischievous fingers drum against your apex. Pulling gentle at your clit in between index and middle, until he buries your next moan against his smile. “Good girl, good girl, a very good girl,” Lilia chants, his even smile pulling wider to witness your cries pitch high, wide eyes tearing up when he settles a finger at your slit and teases your drenched entrance. Even as you feel yourself loosing further slick onto his fingers.

Lilia tilts a quiet hum into your throat; three nimble fingers pushing inside, all at once, you hear the squelch of your arousal leak and wet the covers beneath. You know he hears it — of course he does — it warms your cheeks enough, you have to squeeze your eyes shut for a moment’s reprieve. “The world’s most beloved music seems centered in your body. Such joy.”

You flush at the compliment, tucking your fingers against his jaw to pull him into a brief kiss. “What an eloquent lover,” you tease gently.

“Such sweet praise you’ve got for me.” Leaning into your palm, his eyes furrow in at the corners in joy. Drifting in close once more, as your mouth falls open for him, fingers streaming down the line of his lithe body, until you press in between his legs. “Mm.” Drawing strokes down the heat of his length, pleasantly firm underneath your fingers. You move to cup him above his slacks, earning a lovely burst of song, for your own.

“You’re precious, beautiful briar.” Lilia croons into the junction of your neck. Needle-thin fangs dragging at sensitive skin with each open-mouthed kiss he tucks there, you shiver underneath. Until they sink into your flesh in a bite and you jolt in his hold.

“Lili—aah.” Your question breaking when he purposely drags a swipe of fingers against your clenching frontal walls.

Lilia laps a quick, soothing tongue against the bite, as if in fickle apology. “Mmhm, you taste delightful. Made the task of healing you such fun.”

“D-did you bite to patch me up or something?” You frown, trying to concentrate through your haze, not recalling any such facts from your lessons in magical history, on the Dark Fey. But perhaps it's your mind that’s mush and without much thought.

“Goodness, no.” He presses a short, stifled laughter into your bite, kissing it farewell before drifting to your breasts. “I didn’t think there existed another soul as credulous as our Sebek.” You scowl, you try your best, squeezing him for good measure, dragging a low moan from him in return.

Lilia chuckles at your expression, smoothing the knot in between your brow with gentle lips. “How aggressive, now. Do you want this in you, sweet one?” Tipping his hips into your hold so you feel the hard, searing line of his erection firm against your grip.

His fingers press deep against your walls, before he pulls back slow in a scissoring draw, the sounds of your arousal incredibly loud within your ears, as if in silent, eager answer.

And when you nod, “So good and brave. But first, you’ll break for me, yes?” Beautiful, dark lashes descending with your assenting cry, warm mouth closing around the puckered bead of your breast, just as the thumb he sweeps against your nub and then, he lilts, “Come now, sweet bloom, fall.” And like clockwork, your orgasm snaps through, swift and merciless, just as his tongue smoothing in against yours to swipe and dampen your moans. Turning you to quivering gasps as if your strings were cut and released, at last.

“Magnificent, truly.” Lilia cradles a cool, dry palm; needed heaven against your hot cheek, your eyes falling shut of their own accord to savor his touch. “Oh ho,” his chiding’s a gentle wave of pleasure; index and middle teasing at the soft flesh of your ear. “The night’s a young thing, still, as you humans say.” Leaning in between the give of your legs, not caring for the slick you smear across him as he nudges his clothed erection against you.

And a whisper full of indecent promise, as it warms the shell of your ear, “We’ve yet to witness the most wonderful of dreams it has to offer, beautiful one.”

#twst lilia x reader #twisted wonderland lilia #lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge smut #twst smut #twst smut fanfiction #twisted wonderland smut fanfiction #lilia vanrouge x mc #lilia vanrouge x you #lilia vanrouge x reader #twst lilia smut #lilia vanrouge #incognit-oh

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radioactive-earthshine · 2 years

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Your post about Conner's fashion changes was such an informative and thoughtful analysis and it made me wonder if it is even canon to call him punk in the first place? I never questioned it before. I aslo regrettably have not read his solo series so I am one of those guilty fans that are uninformed about their faves and just go with what everyone else says is true.

Hoo boy... This got longer than I intended to because fashion is something I have a keen interest in so you brought this on yourself but THANK YOU for the compliment and the question that allowed me to explore this.

Anyway...

This is actually a very good debate someone can have about Kon because when you examine what a "punk" is from a fashion and social perspective Kon's first look in the 90s does fit the bill but then when we examine some other details things are not quite so clear. Punk fashion in the early 90s compared to now has not changed too much; they still incorporate mixed media and textures such as leather and denim paired with metal elements such as spikes, studs, chains and accessories like belts and bondage visuals or death imagery. Ripped jeans, worn leather, elements of goth and grunge fashion with the use of makeup and piercings/jewelry all were still very common then as they are now. There are some differences with punk fashion of today compared to then, but you could look at a 90s punk from back then and know immediately what the fashion style they were projecting. So let's take a close look at Kon. Warning TW for some mild homophobia references for attitudes in the 90s regarding some fashion.

Superboy #18 Kon's got the hair, the belts, the leather jacket, the red gloves, the ear piercing and the Lenin glasses which are all in their summation indicative of punk fashion even if it is not as loud as some other examples. Back in the 90s this this was probably as punk as they could get away with for a Superman title. If you have some copies of the comics that include the letters to the editor at the end of each issue you will see how so many people had complaint with Kon's earring over everything else, with some citing their hesitation with his hair but it was mostly his earring that they just couldn't stand. Earrings on men back in the 80s and early 90s were generally considered incredibly edgy and you were either a punk, gay or some sort of deviant from society if you were a boy and you had an earring.

However even those that had earrings there was a saying that was very common back then; if you're old enough or just well read you might remember it. "Left is right, right is wrong." What this was implying that if you were a boy and wanted a piecing you had better get it done on the left side only because the right side made you gay. No I am not making this up. However even with this ridiculous fashion rule for piercings there were an insurmountable amount of people that regarded ANY piercing on a boy to be too edgy, too gay, too out of the ordinary and it was one of the most rebellious, punkish kickass things a teenage boy could do that didn't involve ink, drugs or alcohol or something illegal. One of the key highlights of punk culture is to make people mad about the right things, to question authority, to dare, to rebel, to talk loud about shit that's not right and to live authentically; Kon achieved this in his iconic look on virtue that his look was so heavily rejected for a long time until the audience started paying attention to his adventures and who he was. Kon's hero look is punk, and he did have his punk attitude moments (such as mouthing off to authority and just doing what he wanted even if it got him into trouble.) So yes, it is fair to label him as punk. However... There's is another point of evidence that shakes this up a bit. When he is not in his hero suit, and when he changes his hero look, there is almost no indication that Kon is actually attached to that rebel punk look. Here are some examples of what Kon dresses in when he's NOT in his punk hero suit in his solo 90s series c. 1995.

From: Superboy #18, #24 & #25. There's no real recognizable indication while he is in civilian clothes that he is punk other than his piercing, and one piercing although rebellious does not make him necessarily a "punk." His civilian clothes are quite common, boring and dull and typical of the 1990s. Bart's wardrobe is legendary and Kon's... is not in the comics. It's really striking how much of a kid Kon really looks when he is dressed in his civilian clothes and it is something I appreciate as he is supposed to be only 16 physically. An argument to make for punk Kon-El always is fair even in the face that none of his civilian clothes point to being punk or rebellious in nature because as stated in the post that inspired this question Kon's core identity for the longest time was circulated around being Superboy. Superboy, suit and all, WAS WHO HE WAS. He didn't have a secret identity, no civilian life, no name even until issue #59 Superboy was him trademarked packed and sealed. As time went on for Kon his outfits shifted, he got a secret identity as Conner Kent and we never saw any element of his punk fashion again really. He remained in his new iconic jeans and a t-shirt "uniform" from 2003 - 2011 and in nearly all other media his character was depicted in that particular uniform. So the argument again can be made if he perhaps WAS punk but then grew out of it, as is typical of teenagers (I used to be a grunge fashion baby but that stopped.)

From: Superboy #76, #83 and Red Robin #09

Finally the last pieces of evidence and our closing arguments come together when Kon finally comes back into continuity in Young Justice 2019... This time the writers and artists did something to almost answer this question and put it to rest on what Kon is.

When Kon finally comes back into continuity in 2019 after being in comic limbo for so long (7 years I think) we see him in civilian clothing that has a nod towards punk fashion with the addition of this fantastic and clearly PUNK jacket.

Kon wears this jacket in addition to his jeans and t-shirt hero look before he got himself zapped to Gemworld as a sort of hybrid to the two iconic looks that we relate to Kon-El Kent. And while on Gemworld Kon lives as a farmer but also finds the time to make his own new clothes which is the upgraded, more punkified version of his original design as seen below.

Kon's newest design is something he made himself (whereas his original design he did not) and has more ties to punk with more metallic elements, mixed media and military boots. Kon came sort of full circle with the new comics and in the newer comics Kon has more of a self identity than he did to start with in the original and more direct affirmations to that he is a Kent, he is also Kon and he also has a tie to being punk. So yes, I do think he is punk and it is fair to call him punk.

#kon el #kon-el #conner kent #superboy #young justice #young just us #superfam #fashion #90s fashion #yo i wanted to show some 90s punk fashion but image limit killed it #meta #dc comics #sam i still think you're sending me these asks just come clean #mine

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metalbuckaroo · 3 years

Text

Birthday to Remember

SUMMARY// After being pulled along to a strip club by your friends on your birthday, you end up leaving with some company.

WARNINGS// smut, oral (f receiving), kinda corruption kink, pussyjob, cursing, mentions of tobacco and alcohol use

AU// Stripper!Bucky x Innocent!Readee

AN// Requests and asks are always open, 18+ ONLY Minors DNI

Masterlist

Moodboard by// @commonintrest Dividers by// @skylightlantern

The last thing you wanted on your birthday was for your friends to drag you to a strip club. You felt awkward and out of place walking amongst the room full of half naked men and drinking customers.

"This just feels weird." You sighed, following your three friends towards the bar that was in the corner. "We'll get one of those private rooms they have here for parties and a beefy man. It will be a birthday to remember, c'mon." One of them grinned.

You pitched in on the drinks and a private room, one of the men walking in right after you. Dark, chin length hair and a sweet smile that nearly distracted from the tight leather shorts that left little to the imagination.

You spent most of the time staring down into your glass, having to silently remind yourself you were suppose be having fun as your friends cheered and giggled as they stuffed bills into the waistband of the man's shorts; whose named you learned was Bucky.

You weren't really paying attention to what he was doing. More to the way the silvery metal of his arm gleamed under the dimmed lights and where metal met flesh at the base of his shoulder.

Wondering how he got it or if he could feel when someone touched it, rather than thinking of the smooth way his body moved.

One of your friends said something to him that you couldn't quite make out. Bucky nodding and looking over at you with a half smile.

"Want the birthday special?" He asked, moving to stand in front of you. Your face warmed at his words and you swallowed thickly, shaking your head. "No, it's fine."

"Oh, come on. Don't be a prude." One of the three girls groaned, poking one of your crossed legs.

Wetting your lips, you glanced up at Bucky who looked at you with welcoming eyes. "Yeah, okay." You nodded.

Your stomach flipped when he took the drink from your hands, handing it to your friend before the cool metal of his left hand nudged at your knee for you to uncross your legs.

Bucky placed his hands on the back of the couch, your shoulders trapped between metal and flesh as he leaned down to talk in your ear. "If you're uncomfortable with anything, just pinch me."

You gave another nod and he smiled, flashing his pearly whites as he leaned his knees against the edge of the plush cushion on either side of yours.

Your heart beat wildly in your chest when he tugged at the laces of the shorts to loosen them before taking your hands in his.

Bucky was eating up every reaction you gave. The way you chewed your bottom lip as he guided your hands along the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen, your fingers feeling every dip in the smooth skin and grazing over the barbells that pierced through his nipples.

He especially liked the way you weren't trying to rush his hands to go under his shorts; letting him be in full control.

Your eyes went wide when he stopped your hands at the waistband of the leather, the sound of your heart beating and blood rushing in your ears almost drowning out the sound of your friends giggling and squealing.

And the sound of the door opening.

"Buck, you've got a set." Another man said from the doorway. "I'm in the middle of a session." Bucky huffed, looking over his shoulder but not moving your hands. "Cap is gonna fill in."

Letting out a heavy sigh, Bucky finally let go of your hands, but his close proximity wasn't letting your body relax just yet as he leaned to peck a kiss to your cheek. "Happy birthday." He chuckled before standing.

A broad blonde took his place, this one letting you sit in peace and stare into you half empty glass.

"I'm gonna head home." You exhaled, glancing at the happy looks on your friend's faces. "Fine, buzz kill." One of them muttered.

Pushing through the crowded club, you pushed the heavy metal door open. Bucky was leaned against the concrete wall of the building not far from the door, now in a pair of sweats and a hoodie as he smoked a cigarette.

"The birthday girl." He grinned, blue eyes meeting yours as you stepped closer. "Want one?" He asked, holding the cigarette out towards you. "Uh, no. Thanks."

"Listen-" he cleared his throat, pushing away from the wall to stand in front of you. "I can find someone to cover for me if you need some company on your walk home." He offered before bringing the cigarette to his lips.

"I'll be fine, I'm not too far." You shrugged, looking to the sidewalk. "You can't walk alone, it's one in the morning." Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "That's different than walking with a stranger?"

His tongue jutted out across his bottom lip, eyebrows twitching upwards. "Well- I was about five seconds away from putting your hand in my shorts around thirty minutes ago. I think I'm a little better than a stranger." He teased, leaning forward slightly. "Besides, your friends kinda seem like assholes."

He wasn't wrong. They were sometimes pushy, telling you to loosen up a little and dragging you along with them to places where you felt out of place.

"Ok, fine." You exhaled. Bucky cracked a smile and dropped his cigarette, stomping it out under his shoe. "Let me get my stuff, just wait here for a second." He said, brushing his fingers to your forearm.

"Thanks, for walking with me." You said as you unlocked your front door. "This isn't the worst side of town but it's not the best either." Bucky said with a small laugh.

"I forgot to tip you, by the w-" his warm hand stopped yours from digging in your wallet, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it. Just- invite me in for a drink." He shrugged.

You narrowed your eyes at him, cocking your head to the side. "You're not a creep, are you?"

Bucky laughed, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "No, just don't want a pretty girl to spend her birthday alone. Plus, I had someone take over my shift."

"Well, my apartment is dry. So, you're out of luck on that drink." You smiled, opening the door to walk into the small studio apartment. "That's fair."

Bucky was good company as the two of you sat on the couch in your living room, telling you funny stories about his time working at the club and listening intently to anything you said. The lighting in your apartment made his eyes even more blue than you'd noticed earlier and his features look sharper, framed by his dark locks.

Over the last couple of hours he had slowly moved his way closer to you. Close enough that you could smell his woodsy cologne mixed in with the scent of cigarettes, his metal arm resting on the back of the couch as his right hand would occasionally brush against you when he'd talk.

"You're cute, like a bunny." He said with a small laugh, making your face heat up. "Thanks, I guess?" You mumbled, chewing your tongue as he lifted his hand to your cheek.

He hummed in response, leaning closer until his lips brushed yours and your breathing hitched.

You pressed a hand against his chest and leaned away slightly. "I've never..." You trailed off, hoping he'd get the point. "I figured that much. Can go as far as you want, or we don't have to at all."

"How many girls have you said that to?" You silently cursed yourself for saying it as soon as you did, biting down on the inside of your cheek. He just chuckled and brushed his thumb over the tip of your nose. "I'm more of a long term guy. Pretty sure I can count who I've slept with on one hand."

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." You said quietly, pulling at a string on the seam of your jeans. "I know." Bucky said before slotting his lips over yours, the kiss gentle and sweet.

The taste of cigarettes and mint gum flooded your tastebuds when his tongue slipped past your lips to press into yours, the softness of his plump lips contrasting the scratch of his stubble.

Bucky just felt so welcoming, his touches cautious to wait for you to stop him as his hand moved from your cheek. Fingers ghosting down the side of your neck to leave goosebumps in their wake, along the buttons of your blouse and finally stopping to wedge between your thighs.

He pulled away, leaving your breathless as you blinked your eyes open to meet his lust filled blue ones. "Remember to pinch me if anything makes you uncomfortable." He teased, pecking a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Things were moving fast, clothes quickly discarded on the path from the couch to your bed. Bucky's hands and lips only parting from you long enough to rid another clothing item that shielded his skin from yours until all that stood in his way was your underwear and his leather shorts.

You weren't sure if it was the head rush from only knowing Bucky for a few hours after holding out for so long, or the way his darkened eyes looked you over as he bent his body over yours.

"You're so beautiful." He breathed, leaving a brisk kiss to your lips before trailing wet kisses down your neck and chest.

Your hands gripped onto the sheets harder the further down your abdomen he got, trying to keep your breathing even as fingers hooked in the waistband of your underwear.

Bucky looked up at you one last time before dragging the fabric down your legs, tossing them to the side and taking his spot back between your legs.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch as he peppered kisses to the inside of your thighs, cold metal and warm flesh gently massaging the outsides of them as his stubble scraped at your skin.

A squeak erupted from your throat when he sunk his teeth into the supple flesh, making you move your leg away from his face to pull the skin from between his teeth.

Bucky chuckled and placed a soothing kiss on the mark. One to remind you that none of this had been a dream.

An excited chill ran down your spine when his hot breath fanned your dripping folds. Bucky giving one last glance before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud, a soft chuckle bubbling in his chest when your body jolted and you drew in a sharp breath.

"So responsive, I could get use to that." He winked, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit.

Bucky basked in every breathy sound and reaction he elicited from you, moaning at the taste he wanted to burn into his memory. In hopes he had another chance at this, the slice of heaven he held in his hands.

The chance to have his own angel to bend and mold into his filthiest dream.

He moved his hand to ease his middle finger into your heat, groaning at the immediate flutter of your walls as your hands fisted the sheet and chest heaved with a soft moan.

"Oh, c'mon. You can be louder than that, bunny." Bucky purred, curling the long, thick finger to find the sweet spot to set off the reaction he wanted. A louder moan pulling from your chest when he found the rough patch just inside your cunt making him smirk. "There it is."

He locked his lips around your clit again, fingers curling into the spot that pulled the vulgar sounds from your sweet lips as he sucked and flicked his tongue over the bundle of nerves. An unfamiliar feeling quickly building in your lower belly.

"Bucky-" You keened as white hot pleasure surged through you, your trembling thighs closing on his head as his metal hand moved from your hip to grope at your chest.

His fingers pinched and grazed the pebbled bud before massaging the flesh under his palm as your back arched, your breath catching in your throat and ears ringing.

Bucky lifted his head from between your legs, finger continuing to stroke your walls to work you through your orgasm as he pulled the laces of his shorts loose.

Your skin felt like it was on fire, every nerve alive as you opened your eyes again to Bucky standing at the end of the bed and shoving the shorts down his thick thighs. Erection springing free to give a glance of the two barbells on the underside of his cock. One under the ridge of his swollen head, the other at the base.

Your heart pounded in your ears when he moved back between your legs, stomach flipping from the nerves as his leaking tip ran through your folds and prodded your entrance. "Wait-"

Your hand pressed to the firm muscles of Bucky's stomach made his movements still and eyes flick up to meet your nervous expression. "We can stop if you want. Or we can try something else." He suggested, leaning on his palms to catch your lips in his briefly.

You nodded and let out a shaky breath. "Yeah, something else." You breathed.

A whimper passed your lips when he rocked his hips forward, the barbell sliding over your clit sending shocks of pleasure through you.

Bucky's bottom lip disappeared behind his teeth as let out quiet groans from the feeling of your slick coating his shaft.

"Talk to me, bunny. This okay?" He panted, gaze raking over your naked form that still had the sheet clutched tightly as melodic sounds spilled from your lips.

"Feels good," You panted, words slightly slurred from the dizzy feeling in your head caused by the pressure quickly building again. "So good." He moaned, holding his base to have better guidance through your folds.

You bit your lip into your mouth as tears prickled your eyes from the second wave of warmth that spread, choking out a moan as his pace quickened.

"Fucking shit-" Bucky huffed, his grip on your thigh tightening and release spilling onto your lower abdomen.

You inhaled a few deep breaths, trying to steady your heart beat as he pecked a kiss to your knee before standing from the bed to grab a piece of clothing for clean up.

You pulled the blanket from under you to hold to your chest, waiting for him to get dressed and make an excuse to leave like you'd heard your friends talk about after a hook up.

Instead, he wandered towards the kitchen, finding an empty can as he lit a cigarette, your eyes staying fixed on the way the muscles in his back rippled with his movements.

"C'mere." Bucky said with a soft groan as he got under the blankets with you, sitting the can on the nightstand. "You're staying?" You asked, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

"If you want me to, yeah." He shrugged, holding his arm out for you to lay on as he placed the cigarette between his teeth and grabbed a pillow to cushion the metal.

You gave a soft yeah and cuddled into his side, the soft whirring of his arm under the pillow helping you slowly drift to sleep.

You felt yourself waking up as the bed dipped under the weight of Bucky moving, deciding not to fully wake up and let him leave in silence.

"Hey," Bucky whispered, moving his body over yours to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder. "Hmm?" You hummed in response, peaking an eye open to look at the slate blue eyes that held adoration in them.

His knuckles brushed down your arm, a sweet kiss placed on your lips as he gave you a soft smile. "I gotta go, but I left my personal number under your alarm clock. Give me a call sometime."

You nodded and smiled lightly at him, another kiss pecked to your lips before he left the bed to gather his things, walking towards the door.

"I'm gonna hold ya to that, bunny."

TAGLIST: @likeahorribledream @cxddlyash @iwannabekilledtwice @bookstan0618 @glxwingrxse @yliumy @pineprincess @makbarnes @cupcakehinch @doasyoudesireandlive @magicwithinnightmares @andy-is-gay @stucky-my-ship @marvel-3407 @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @i-l-y-3000 @avoxzy @impala1967666 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @supernaturalbaesduh @bucky-hues @suchababie @eireduchess

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes smut #stripper!bucky smut #stripper!bucky #bucky #james buchanan barnes #bucky barns x you

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extremelyblackandwhite · 2 years

Text

she’s got a way | rockstar!bucky

pairing: rockstar!bucky x popstar!reader

warnings: 18+, enemies to lovers, sexual themes, toxic behaviour, swearing, mentions of miscarriage, drug usage

masterlist (false god)

she's got a way about her, i don't know what it is but I know that I can't live without her ...

Y/N was sat in front of her piano, viciously scribbling and changing words and notes, her voice memo already too long to even send to her producer as she attempted to even slightly translate what was going on. Her mind was rushing through any sort of sentence and writing it down in what had to be a mix between a love, breakup and revenge track. She didn’t even know anymore, she didn’t know what she was doing but she kept on doing it. Writing and composing had gotten her freed from Bucky Barnes once and it surely could be done again.

- You threw your arms around my neck, back when I deserved it. - she mumbled to herself only to sight and hit the keys harshly. No, it wasn’t sounding right, it didn’t make any sense.

She took in a deep breathe, closing her eyes for a minute before her fingers returned to gliding across the piano, trying to find the perfect melody, the right vehicle to express what she was feeling.

- I hate those voices telling me I’m not in love .... - she was interrupted by a knock on her door. Great, just when the song was about to make sense.

She turned off her voice memo, sending it over to her producer through email before making it to the door. As she leaned up to the peep hole, she realised the very subject of what she was trying to write had decided to interrupt her. How did he even manage to get past the security in the lobby? Yet again, he was personable and charming when he wanted to be. Besides, rumours said he slept with half of New York so maybe he had slept with her security or one of her neighbours. Whatever the reason was didn’t matter, what mattered is that he was outside her door. She unlocked her door, opening it with an upset look on her face.

- Don’t be so excited to see me. - he said sarcastically, moving in to kiss her cheek which took her by surprise. - I brought you food.

- I said I didn’t want to have lunch with you, Bucky.

- No, you said “goodbye Bucky” which is not a flat out no. Besides, you always forget to eat lunch. It’s not healthy, sweets.

- Says the person on a cocaine and alcohol diet. - she let him in, fully aware she still hadn’t taken the key from behind her flower pot and he would probably let himself in if she didn’t.

- You think so low of me, sweets. Hurts my feelings. - he put a white takeaway bag on her side table. - I saw your Vanity Fair article.

- I thought you didn’t read magazines.

- Usually I don’t but when you’re in lingerie in the front cover ... What can I say? It triggers my interest. - he sat down on her couch, his head slightly leaned towards his shoulder, with a pulling smirk. - The whole world saw it.

She stared at him from where she had been standing, sighing and joining him the couch. It seemed no matter what she did Bucky would not give up, not that he was ever know to give up.

- What did you get? - she peaked over to the food on the side table.

- Your favourite. - he winked, placing one of the white takeaway box on top of her legs. - Food from the place I used to work at.

- I thought you hated that place.

- And I do but not when I’m the costumer. - he handed her plastic cutlery with the same sort of nonchalance he used to back when the two would eat leftovers from the restaurant’s specials.

It was almost as if time remained still and nothing had changed, even if he looked different. Bucky did look different, he was significantly skinnier than when they dated, covered in tattoos and piercings, with longer hair but his eyes. His eyes were still the same, the still baby blues that crinkle when he smiles. She almost forget how upset she was at him. Almost.

- Read you’re gonna work with Maxwell. - he commented.

- Yeah. - she shrugged, looking down at her food container. - He’s a good producer.

- He’s a dick.

- Bucky ...

- No, he is. - he interrupted her. - Whatever you do he’s gonna want 50%. Writing credits, scoring credits, even if he does nothing. It’s a terrible decision.

- Are you trying to give me advice?

- Yes, I’ve been doing this for longer than you have. I know the industry and I know who the scumbags are.

- Takes one to know one. - she interrupted him before he could say anything else.

- That’s neither here or there, Y/N. I don’t want you to be taken advantage of or made a fool. You’re protective of your songs.

- We are not the same artist and I don’t want your advice.

- Can you just listen to me?

- No! - she got up, walking to her kitchen, her hand on the side of her head as she attempted to calm down. - God, I don’t need your protection or your advice. I’ve done just fine without you!

- I know but this is the big labels and it’s different shit, princess. - he followed after her. - Last thing I want to see you become is an industry plant.

- What? Like you?

Bucky’s words got stuck in the back of his throat as he stared at her. He knew she didn’t mean to be overly cruel, but he also knew that deep down she was right. Maybe he wasn’t an industry plant but he and his band hadn’t put out anything new. He couldn’t find a reason why.

- I’m ... I’m just trying to protect you. - he attempted to calm the will to start a full blown argument.

- I have a whole ironclad team of lawyers and publicists that can do a better job than you ever did.

- How long are you gonna hold that over me?

- YOU LEFT ME, BUCKY! - she yelled out, her heart beating faster and hands shaking as what felt like the world had been lifted from her shoulders. - You moved out and you didn’t even have the decency of telling me. You’re a fucking coward.

- That has nothing to do with what we were just talking about. - he attempted to remain cool headed. He didn’t like being called a coward, he wasn’t a coward.

- So you didn’t care for me back then but you care now?

- Y/N. - he warned, her name almost foreign. He barely referred to her by her name, even when they had just met each other.

- You didn’t care about me when I was your girlfriend and you care now? - her voice lowered, but her eyes didn’t leave his. - What makes you think you have any say in my life, Bucky? You can barely handle your own.

Bucky was out of there, the door hitting the ledge with a bang as he made his way outside her apartment building as fast as he could. He knew she was stubborn, he knew she didn’t like him, but he’d known her to take advice from people she liked less. He’d been screwed up enough times to know who to trust in the industry and she was still as naive as they came. He knew that because he’d been as naive as she was, he didn’t even had the right to his very first song. In all honesty, the masters should belong to her, she wrote the music while he had just penned the lyrics; yet that was stored in the back of his mind. He didn’t want to revisit it.

The meeting with the band had been almost as catastrophic as speaking to her had been and while he would’ve enjoyed to even figure out what was going on, he was much too locked in his mind of his to care about anything else. Girls didn’t get him riled up, they didn’t upset him; yet he was used to be the one in the position of power, to be the dominant one. With Y/N, things were different. They’d met when both held as much fame as the next person and she knew whatever parts of his personality he’d stored away. She had a way, she had a particular way of making his head spin, of making him angry and taking him to the full spectrum of emotion. There was a reason why he didn’t like to think about her, a reason why he had pretended she didn’t exist and when her existence became to loud in his mind ... well, he drowned it out. This time was no different.

The music roared from the club speakers as he yelled out words which couldn’t even classify as such, his mind drunk and silent off any thoughts but the strobing lights around him. If his mind was loud then he’d do whatever it takes to silence them; alcohol, cocaine, pills, ecstasy, whatever it took. It was a cocktail of things that had him constantly threading between euphoric state of mindlessness and his end; but Bucky was fine ending like this. He was fine ending with no memories or guilt in his brain, he couldn’t live with them. He’d rather be like this, high off his mind, drunk enough not to feel pain and sat in the middle of girls whose name he wouldn’t remember tomorrow.

His eyes met the strobing lights of the ceiling, the balloons falling on the dance floor and popping through shoes and heels but the sound couldn’t be heard over the beat of a song he could vaguely recognise.

- Bucky! - someone pulled on his arm. - What the fuck?!

- VAL! - he yelled out with a smile on his face. - What are you doing here?

- I’m a club promotor, it’s my fucking job. Some of us do it.

- No, no, no, that’s not what I meant.

- You fought with Y/N?! - the two were yelling at the point, the voices barely cutting through the music. - I told you ...

- You’re such a hypocrite, Val. Didn’t you fight with your boyfriend all the time? - she couldn’t make out if he meant his words to hurt, mostly because he was laughing and smiling like an idiot.

- Look at the state of you! This is why she doesn’t wanna see you.

- I think she just doesn’t want her little good girl image to be ruined but I know ... I know what she does in the bedroom.

- You’re a fucking asshole. You know what? Good on her for losing that baby because you’ve been a fucking lousy father.

In a snap of fingers, that euphoric feeling seemed to fade as he mumbled a string of stunned “what?” and a feeling of dread settled on Val’s stomach. The music which once was overwhelming his mind was now only booming echoes as he tried to make a logical thought out of his shattered brain. All he could think about was his phone. His phone, he needed his phone to call Y/N, he needed to call her.

He moved through the crowd, bumping into people and pushing them out of the way to get to the table. His friends and the girls pleas fell on deaf ears as he searched for his phone. Through blurry vision, he could barely make up her name on his phone and when he did, all he could hear was a string of missed and failed calls. He cried out her name like a wounded animal, pressing his thumb on the phone countless times and moving through the crowd until he fell to the ground, his phone flying across the room as he stared at those bright strobe lights.

taglist: @prettywhenicry4 @bubblespeare @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @silkeiy @rowanthomasknapp @smallestsnarkestgirl @broco8 @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @cosmicevans @davten74

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zodiakuroo · 3 years

Text

pierced

idk what to tell you this is just 2k of pussy eating (don’t blame me blame eren brain rot)

18+, minors dni

part 2

“What did you do?!” You say, incredulously. It’s a rhetorical question, you can see exactly what he’s done. Eren stands in front of you, shamelessly, with his pants and boxers dropped to his ankles as his flaccid penis hangs between his thighs. Your attention is mainly focused on the brand new, shiny titanium barbell that goes through the head of his dick.

“Do you like it?” You can tell by his posture and the shit-eating grin on his face that he’s incredibly proud of his newest body modification.

“Why on earth would you get a piercing there?” The bulbous head is just few shades of pink darker than the rest of his pale shaft. You wince in your seat, imagining what it would feel like to stick a needle right through your most sensitive parts.

“Well, it was a dare and Jean bet that I wouldn’t so I had to.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, fully aware of how silly it sounds as he says it out loud.

“Of course.” You mutter. What other chain of events would lead to your boyfriend coming home with a fucking Prince Albert. “Does it hurt?” You lean in just a little closer and notice the little bit of dried blood where the jewelry pierces his flesh.

“Nah. Didn’t feel a thing.” He says with a wink and begins dressing himself again before dropping down on couch next you, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest.

“You’re such an idiot.” You giggle, nuzzling your head into his neck, inhaling the heady scent you’ve come to associate with him.

“There is one thing though.” His voice is softer, lacking it’s usual self-assured tone. He can’t say that he’s happy about what he’s about to tell you. In fact, had he known about this small detail beforehand he might not have gone through with that stupid dare.

“Hmm?” You respond noncommittally, too preoccupied by your current task of leaving gentle kisses on his jaw and giving him the soft affection you know he loves but will never ask for.

“No sex for a month. Piercer’s orders.” His eyes drift down cautiously to gauge your reaction.

You stop in your tracks and frown up at him. At first you think he’s kidding but no such luck. “Oh my god.” You groan. “You’re such an idiot.”

Three days.

A grand total of three days.

It’s sad really, but you should have seen it coming. Like Eren Jaeger’s libido would ever let him go a whole 30 days with no sex.

He blames you and the way you prance around the apartment in those tight, short shorts. How is he not supposed to want you when he has to spend the day watching your tits bounce around in that white tank top, nipples just barely visible through the fabric?

It’s not like you put up much of a fight anyways. The way that man has you wrapped around your finger, all it took was a few well-placed touches and whispers of how much he misses the way you feel and the way you taste. Just like that, Eren has you naked, legs hanging off the edge of the bed with his face buried in your cunt.

“Love this pussy.” He murmurs, nipping at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Can’t live without it.”

He knows that he can’t be inside you. He knows. And yet he continues to torture himself because this is as close as he can get to what he really needs.

The rough pads of his fingertips massage your wall making you buck into his hand, silently begging for something deeper. He laps at you with his tongue, running it from your clit all the way down to your hole, licking up the slick that leaks out around his knuckles.

You feel the sparks of pleasure heating up your abdomen and you squeeze your thighs around his head, weaving your hands through his long, mahogany locks. ‘Eren’falls from your lips over and over in breathy mewls that only encourage him to keep going. His fingers put in double time hitting the special spot deep inside you while he seals his lips around clit and pulls it into his mouth. You dig your heels into his back to give you leverage to rut into his face as he pushes you closer and closer towards an inevitable orgasm.

You’re so hot and wet inside, squeezing so tight around his fingers. His mind conjures up memories of how good it felt to have your gooey walls clamping down on his dick and the soft cries you let out as he split you open.

He’s rock solid in his sweats right now and his cock hurts, sensitive tissue swelling and pulsating around his still fresh piercing. But he can’t think about that right now. All that’s on his mind is how badly he wants to be inside you right now. Any of your holes, it doesn’t matter which. But they’re all off limits.

Quite frankly, it pisses him off.

There is no choice but for him to take his frustrations out on your body. He slowly drags his fingers out of you, marveling at the way your needy cunt tries to pull him back in.

Before you can even protest Eren presses his fingers, still warm from your pussy and covered in your cream, against your lips.

“Open up.” He practically growls, voice thick with arousal.

You part your lips in response, letting him clean his fingers off using your tongue. Reflexively, you close your lips around them and begin to suck, moaning at the taste of yourself.

“God, princess.” He pants with his jaw slack. “Want your mouth around me so bad.”

It only motivates you to take his fingers deeper. Deep enough to make you gag as your drool runs down his knuckles while you swirl your tongue around his digits.

The way you look at him doesn’t help either. Usually you’d shy away from eye contact when he makes you do something embarrassing like this, sucking on his fingers like you’re sucking on his cock. But tonight is different. You stare straight at him with that heavy-lidded gaze, eyes glossy and full of want. The frustration is killing him, he can’t stand to look at you anymore so instead he gives his undivided attention to your cunt.

“Babe you wanna know something?” His breath fans over your soaked core, making you twitch in his hold. Something gives you the feeling that he’s not really talking to you, he’s talking to what’s between your legs. Although he’s not even looking at you, you still nod your head yes, so wound up you’ll take anything from him at this point.

“I read online,” He goes quiet for a moment, distracted at the way your weeping hole clenches around nothing, almost like it’s begging for him to fill it. “That dick piercings feel real good in pussy. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Eren bends down to lick at your dripping hole, he slides his tongue all the way down, making sure not waste a single drop, stopping just above the tight ring of muscle making your squeal in surprise.

”Can you imagine it?” He drags is fingers from your lips, leaving a path of saliva down the valley of your breasts, across your stomach until he reaches your clit, rubbing the sensitive numb in slow, steady circles with his thumb while you fist the sheets trying to swallow the sounds he’s coaxing out of you. “How it’s gonna feel inside you? How it’s gonna hit that spot that makes you go dumb?”

Sure, he sounds composed but when you look down at him and see the way his pupils are blown wide, pretty pink tongue hanging slightly out of his mouth, you know he’s imagining it too.

“Gonna drive you crazy.” His calloused fingertips dig further into your pudgy thighs, clipped nails leaving little crescents indented in your skin. “Make you even more crazy for my cock than you already are.”

“Yeah ‘ren.” You gasp as he runs his tongue through your folds. “Wan’ your cock.” You babble mindless agreements at whatever filth he’s spewing, too fucked out and desperate for his cock to care.

Like the bastard he is, he chuckles at your response, satisfied with knowing that you want him just as bad as he wants you.

He leans forward and presses the flat of his tongue against your entrance, telling you (wordlessly) what he wants.

Beg

He wants you to beg for it.

And of course you oblige. You chant out ‘please Eren, please Eren, please Eren’ over and over again as if you’ve forgotten every other word.

He rewards for your obedience by pushing the slippery muscle into your hole, nice and slow savouring the way your tart essence covers his taste buds.

“Fuck- more please.” Your back arches off the bed in response but his left hand splays across your abdomen keeping you in place.

His right thumb is still rubbing you, pressing harder, going faster while he drives his tongue even deeper licking up all of your juices like a man starved. He devours you shamelessly, the sloppy sounds only drowned out by your pornographic whining. He thrusts in and out, in and out, in and out, fucking you with his tongue, making sure to taste every inch of you.

Your flavor is addictive, he can’t get enough. He grunts against with his face shoved against you, sending vibrations from your core, right up your spine. His fingers and tongue assault your pussy mercilessly, setting every single nerve on fire.

“Baby- ah- I- I’m close” you whimper, feeling tension brewing in your core, threatening to burst at any second.

“No.” The hand that was playing with your pussy comes down hard on your puffy clit, the sound of the smack echoing in the quiet room.

You let out a cry, so high pitched you can hardly believe it’s your voice.

“Can’t come until I do.” Just like that, he’s off of you completely, leaving you trembling without his touch.

The pain and frustration have tears brimming at your lash line. How cruel of him. To dangle an orgasm right in front of your face before yanking it away. You begin to stammer out pleas, begging him to touch you again, but they fall on deaf ears.

“C’mon princess. ‘S only fair right?” He looks up at you with the sweetest, emerald puppy dog eyes, juxtaposing the lewd way he licks the remnants of your arousal from his swollen lips.

It’s not fair at all. You weren’t the one who decided to get their dick pierced on a whim. Why should you have to suffer? But there’s too much blood in your throbbing cunt and not enough in your brain so you can hardly put together a coherent sentence, let alone argue with him.

“Gonna edge you like this every day yeah?” He shifts his body to hover over you, using his arms to hold himself up so that his nose barely brushes yours and stray stands of his messy hair tickle the sides of your face. “Till I get to fuck you again.” He dips down to kiss you on the lips. It’s barely more than a peck, far too chaste and gone far too soon.

“Christ, I can’t wait to fuck you again.”

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