#Versace Watch With Diamonds | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

koocycle · 1 year

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over wine | jjk | teaser part one

↳ synopsis. designer dresses, spa weekends and rare wines are no longer enough to keep your marriage afloat. with your husband gone from home and a marriage standing on shaky grounds, you stumble back to your neglected career in the hopes it’ll fulfill the void in your life. you’re ready to take the risk this time, whether that is with the emerald cut diamond around your ring finger, or without.

over cocktails and dior-bowed roses.

pairing. husband! jungkook x ex-model! fem reader

teaser word count. 2k

estimated word count. 35k+

au + genre. rich couple! au, established relationship! au, married couple! au, semi sugar daddy! au, suburban couple! au, angst, fluff and smut.

teaser warnings. mild cursing, suggestive and mature themes

send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

series masterlist

released on thursday, july 6th 2023.

Jeon Jungkook must be easy to love.

You figure he is, because anywhere the well-dressed man goes, curious eyes follow. Though you find it hard to pinpoint what exactly it is that makes the man so lovable in the eyes of your friends and neighbors. Your husband owns a great sense of fashion, in his defense. If we’re talking 10-minute trips to the only supermarket available in town, where the man makes sure his hair is slicked back and the first few buttons of his blouse are undone, then yes, Jungkook might have hit the bull's eye. It’s noticeable on people’s faces no matter where his feet carry him. Take the red-haired divorcée across the street for example, whose skirts get shorter each time she comes out to get her mail. Or take the head of the community garden every Saturday morning, who stoops a little lower each time she plucks another stock of radishes from her dirty, little yard.

Long story short, the man who got voted to grow the ‘’reddest tomatoes the neighborhood has ever seen’‘, is considered one of the hottest men on the block. Not like it ends there when he carries his good attitude with him no matter the day. As a beloved one who drives off to the office no matter the rush he’s in, Jungkook makes sure to slow the speed down and send a sweet wave to the elderly couple at the end of the street. After business hours, he would find lost mail in his letterbox, wrong packages at his porch, and missing kittens hidden in the trimmed bushes of his backyard. Yes, great guess; Jungkook in formal attire makes sure they find their way back to the rightful owner before it turns dark out. A smile on his face that’s sweeter than the candied apples he gifted Kim Namjoon’s 7-year-old the other day.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook from number 09 is the neighborhood’s heartthrob.

What is there not to love about your beloved Jungkook?

Perhaps his despicable wife?

‘‘You might want to lose the attitude before she comes back.’’ It is the first thing your husband says that is directed towards you, breaking the tense silence like nails scraping against a chalkboard. There’s a large gap between the both of you on the rather firm sofa and the silence you grant him does little to calm either of you down. The two-seater isn’t a very broad piece of furniture on itself, though it seems bigger when each of you is seated at the opposite arms. Glued to them like teenagers who got into a fight in the lunch cafeteria in between classes. You watch Jungkook slump down his seat in the corner of your eye, an arm resting over the edge in a way that makes his Blancpain watch shimmer prettily around his thick wrist.

‘‘Attitude?’’ You end up asking, glossed lips pursed together.

‘‘You know what I’m talking about.’’ He says flatly. Jungkook sounds like he couldn’t bother any less, but truth be told, the tight pause in his defense betrays him. His eyes fall to your folded arms and travel lower down your bare, crossed legs after. ‘‘You look like you don’t want to be here at all.” The Versace dress he got you hugs your hips just the way it’s supposed to and rides higher up your thigh with every minor movement you proceed to make. Ruby red polyester clashes with the neutrals in the room and you definitely seem like you don’t belong in such a formal setting, but fuck, he would have you bent over Mrs. Kang’s desk with your dress hunched around your waist if he weren’t supposed to be an angry fuck now.

You scoff at his foolish accusation. “Please, Jungkook,” a humorless chuckle dies down on your tongue when you can’t find it in you to fake it. “I was the one who had to beg you to clear your schedule for today’s appointment in the first place.”

“Then act like it. Don’t just sit here and sulk.” He bites like he had his response ready and set. Sharp eyes meet yours. “You’re acting like a child, pouting like it’s gonna get us anywhere. Seulgi is here to help us sort our shit out. At least let her do her damn job.”

Jungkook’s head slowly lolls to the back of the ivory-colored sofa when it’s off his chest, a puff of air leaving his lips like today’s session got him exhausted before it could even make its start. His eyes fall to a close as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The sight of it only makes the tight knot in your stomach grow and you can’t seem to tear your eyes off the heated man, a snarl on your lips you wish he’d notice.

“I told you, I want a second opinion.”

“And I told you, we’re not going through the hassle of finding another therapist when we got a fine one just under our nose.” Jungkook’s jaw tenses and he slumps down the sofa some more. “Give her time. She’s analyzing our relationship.”

His words trigger something inside you. They make you sit on the edge of your seat with heat rushing to your head, the Valentino Garavani mini bag falling off your lap and onto the cushions at the movement. “How much of an analysis does she need when we visit two times a week?” Your eyes fall on him. “Open your eyes, Kook. She always asks for my opinion and uses it against me a minute later. She is always on your side. We need a second opinion.”

“Just fucking drop it.” He mumbles to himself though he swears it’s for your own good. Also because the waiting area is only a door away and he doesn’t want to walk out of the heated office with judging eyes on him like last time. The walk of shame back to the car must have been the highlight of your visit. “I’m not gonna run around town and find you a straight, male therapist who’s blindly gonna agree with you the minute you flash him half a boob. Wasting our money like it’s nothing.”

Jungkook regrets saying that as soon as it’s out. He didn’t have to say that, he figures. Though when he’s met with silence and catches the roll of your eyes on his side, the pang of guilt disappears as soon as it came. You didn’t come here to argue here with him. Quite the opposite, considering your surroundings. Though it is getting hard to block that road when you aren’t one to bite your tongue either. “Of course you won’t. You love it when people suck on your dick.”

He should have seen that one coming. And he knows either one of you needs to stop barking back if you want to see any progress throughout your sessions with Mrs. Kang. Jungkook could be the bigger person if he wanted to be, but his egoism is rocket high. ‘’Say that again?’’

You fall to the back of the sofa as well, mirroring him with your arms crossed tight against your chest. “Seulgi is sucking you dry and you’re eating it up.” You mutter with gritted teeth. “Always picking your side, always defending you. . . you’re loving it and you can’t get enough.”

Jungkook says nothing and just listens to your quiet, angry mumbles at first. To him, you’re almost whining the words out like it’s going to get you anywhere. And maybe it would if the circumstances would be any different. If you weren’t forced to kill time in an empty office waiting for your couple’s therapist to return with your preferred coffee and biscuits. Kang Seulgi knows the deal by now; you like your spiced chai latte and he likes his shot of espresso so bitter that it sits on his tongue for the rest of the session.

He continues to watch you. Examine you, in some way. The sound of your rambling drawing out the more he loses himself in his own world. Issues roll off your tongue like you’re reading them off a long, unending list, and he feels like you’ve argued about these same things over and over again. Too many times for him to keep his focus when your breasts are pressed together so prettily in that dress.

You’ve had it for a while, Jungkook then recalls. A couple of years at most, but he remembers the day he bought it for you like it was last week. Initially, you told him no; you didn’t need him to buy you a dress for a price so ridiculous. He could buy you an extra large salmon bagel for lunch and you’d be the happiest woman in the room, is what you tried to convince him of. Though your eyes glimmered with adoration the minute you entered the store and held the designer piece in your hands. Moments after swearing you only wanted to see it up close and get a good feel. He remembers loving that glimmer in your eyes.

He wanted to see it more often, so Jeon Jungkook got you that Versace dress like it was nothing. You yelled and shrieked at him through the entire checkout and earned some nasty glances from the saleswomen, but he didn’t mind. He could take a hit from you. If a simple swipe of his card meant he’d see that look more often, then yes, Jungkook was willing to sell his soul for you.

“Are you even listening?” He doesn’t notice the corners of his lips slipping up until you tug him out of his daze. The apples of his cheeks show as quick as they die down.

“Yeah,” Jungkook groans and sits up straight. “I hear you. You’re just not making any sense, babe.”

Jungkook often finds several ways to make you roll your eyes and tighten your jaw, though he rarely makes you fume with steam blowing out of your ears.

Today is one of the days where he makes you fume with steam. He can tell by the way you avoid his eye in the hopes you won’t go all feral on him. Or how your glossed lips pettily press together, the Dior Addict lip oil one step away in your lip-combo routine from cussing him out until your voice goes hoarse.

You huff quietly, clearly holding back. “How am I not making sense? You’re not listening to a word I say.”

“I listen. You just have a hard time understanding me.”

It’s a thing you guys do, the finger-point thing. And it is something you do a lot. It’s a thing where either of you hopes that the other backs up when you point for long enough. A healthy relationship doesn’t work like that, is what Seulgi told you during your last session. As if you didn’t already know. But old habits are hard to get rid of, and certainly when it comes to you two, where someone else has to lose in order to win.

You didn’t think of her words as useful and made sure to voice the complaints about your newly found couple’s therapist the entire ride back home. Jungkook, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure what to do with your critical feedback. The entire session, he was just waiting for Seulgi to hand him that step-by-step handbook to a successful marriage, which he hoped was attached to her clipboard. But he knew she wouldn’t have made it so easy for you even if she had it. Not with the amount of money he pays her per session. Because if we’re going to be honest, then no, Jungkook didn’t get Seulgi either. But he was willing to learn from her and understand her. Unlike you, who just sat there and might as well have filed and groomed your nails while you were at it.

Maybe you’re scared of whatever is yet to come, he ponders. Maybe you think you’re better off than whatever the future has planned out for you and Jungkook. He doesn’t know, and he can’t figure you out either.

full version, date of release july 6th 2023.

taglist: @codeinebelle @cxcotin @hrts4kook

please send me an ask to be added to the list.

#jungkook #jungkook teaser #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jjk #koocycle

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akeptseductress · 2 years

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the assessment.

hair - is always well kept with a soft sheen, almost always long at least cleavage length. hairstyles are simple, usually long and flowing (either straight, wavy or loosely curled). hair extensions are probably added.

skin - clear. flawless with a soft glow grooming - immaculate. eyebrows plucked and arched to perfection, lash extensions, fillers. here's something i noticed about their nails and makeup that i didn't expect:

their makeup, while it was usually a "full face" or applied "heavy" at times, was almost always in neutral or natural colors. lips were shades of pink,nude,browns or red. same thing with eyeshadow. it was never any colors like purple, blue and it was also never "loud" or extravagant. i guess the best way to describe this would be "soft glam".

as far as nails go, it was pretty much the same. shades of white, light pinks (i didn't see too many dark/hot pinks, rarely was there any color (i noticed that if there was, they were usually on vacation or it was around halloween or a special event), the boldest was either a red nail or various versions of french manicures.

body - slim/slender or hwp with average to big breasts (implants). something else i noticed is that while a lot of these girls may be naturally skinny they still go to the gym and workout. there is a difference between being naturally slim and being fit and toned. these girls definitely prefer to be fit and very toned, especially when it comes to their legs and stomachs. preferred workouts are cardio and pilates.

this wasn't shown a lot but from what i did gather, these women eat healthy 75% of the time (if not more). supplements, vitamins and protein powder were apart of their fitness/workout regimes. it seems like everyone has a sweet tooth though. favorite indulgences where chocolate and desserts from restaurants.

teeth - perfection. hollywood smiles. bright white.

wardrobe - i would call this elegant yet very stylish. quite a bit of lace, fur, and ruffles. i noticed that the color palette skewed slightly more towards neutral colors: white, black, nudes, beiges, light/baby pinks, light greys and light brown (usually in the fall/winter). when they did wear color (which was often) i realized that it was because they were promoting/modeling clothes. when it seemed that they were wearing their own clothes, it was usually with a more neutral palette.

when colors were worn, the two forefronts were deep blue and hot pink. other colors such as orange, yellow, green, etc seem to be usually worn during mid summer or on tropical vacations.

jeans are rarely worn. when pants or shorts are worn (and this is rare as well just not as rare as denim) it's usually apart of a 2 pc set or paired with a silk/satin/lace shirt.

solid colors were still in the majority but as far as patterns go, the main one was floral, then the versace baroque print and some animal print, also there was plaid but almost only when worn with tweed (usually a tweed suit, jacket or blazer) and it was almost always accessorized with a chanel brooch, chanel jewelry or a purse, or pearl jewelry.

accessories - always designer (unless they were modeling someone else's designs), the 3 major designer purses were louis vuitton, chanel and hermes. and honorable mention is the lady dior bag. other accessories were sunglasses, luxury jewelry mainly cartier and vancleef and arpels, watches were rolex or patek and of course diamonds are a girl's best friend.

when it came to shoes, this was the exception to the rule. shoes were in various colors and styles and embellishments. and it was usually heels. heels. and more heels. sneakers were worn sparingly and usually only at the gym or while shopping. flats were usually worn on at the beach (or a beach club) or while shopping. flats of choice are the hermès orans and the sneakers of choice are chanel.

it seems as if the clothes don't need to come from saks, bergdorfs, etc. but my guess is that they do need to be made well and of quality. also baggy/loose clothes are hardly ever worn unless it's a sweater; form fitting clothes are preferred. dresses and skirts are worn wayyyy more than pants.

lifestyle - i'm going to keep this short because it should be pretty obvious: these women only associate with rich, generous men. they have a tendency to go after men that really love the feminine, slightly sexy look. and the men in their life are most definitely sponsoring their lifestyle. if the woman is new to the game, the man will be introducing her to the luxury life, if she's been in it a while he will be keeping her at the level she is accustomed to at minimum or taking her higher.

they are always eating at upscale restaurants, going to events, sunbathing on yachts and traveling to the hottest vacation destinations around the world: maldives, monaco, mykonos, etc.

in their world it's either luxury or nothing. and if you want her to be apart of your world you better be able to afford her.

this is the aesthetic and lifestyle i am aiming for.

#hypergamy #high maintenance #high value woman #hypergamous black women

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lovingmny · 6 months

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Can I request A Hyunjin fic he’s like going through a hard time and he just keeps crying over every little thing and y/n doesn’t know what’s going on LIKE?? But she decides to do her best to be there for him and cheer him up and do everything for him like helping him eat, brushing his hair, etc. And slowly he gets out of it and they make out (include as much detail here as you want!)

(This Is TOTALLY not me projecting) 😅💖

my home - request

🐸 synopsis: hyunjin keeps crying, and you have no idea why, but still try to comfort him. how will you do it?

🐢 genre: angst, fluff

🌱 pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader

🍐 warnings: crying, anxiety, lmk if i missed any!

🦎 wc: 0.6K

🥝 a/n: thank you for this request! i’m SOO sorry this took so long😭please forgive me 😔🙏 also like doesn’t hyunjin look a bit like minji in that picture??? i hope you enjoy🤞🤞

m.list

you heard muffled cries from the living room. they sounded angelic, yet sad.

hyunjin went to the versace event, or whatever it was called. you weren’t really interested in fashion, as most of your outfits were just stolen from his closet.

the reason he was crying wasn’t something that you knew, but assumed it was about his english yesterday. learning a new language is hard, and you tried to tell him that, but he was still very self conscious about it.

the cries became louder. you practically sprinted there and saw him, just sitting there. he looked so expensive, yet here he was, crying diamond tears.

you grabbed him into a hug and tried telling him that it was alright.

‘my english was horrible‘ he muffled against your neck.

‘no it wasn’t, you aren’t just confident‘ i felt him smile a bit on my neck but the smile soon fell.

more cries could be heard as his tears stained your hoodie, actually his hoodie. you slightly patted his head and left the living room in comfortable silence.

you soon came back with chocolate muffins. his jaw slightly parted open and he signaled that he wants them. you placed a muffin in his mouth and watched him chew it.

laugher filled the room as you were feeding each other, both shirts full of chocolate stains.

night fell soon and you fell even harder for him.

THE NEXT DAY

you woke up with his hair slightly scratching against your neck. you giggled at his cuteness, which was literally out of this world.

you slowly got up from the bed, not wanting to wake him up as he was getting his beauty sleep.

you got ready and heard sounds from the bedroom. he was probably awake and still paranoid about his english, because obviously he is very dramatic.

you actually watched videos of him in the event and his english was good?? like what bae??

he peeked out of the bedroom and asked;

‘can we stay home today? i just wanna chill’

you hummed in response and he went back to the bedroom. after that you heard a small groan and got up from the couch to check what he was dramatic over now.

‘i don’t know what to put on’ he groaned in annoyance.

you picked an outfit for him and he seemed to be satisfied, as he put it on. hyunjin was very particular with what he dresses on but he agreed to your outfit. maybe you weren’t that bad after all??

you finished brushing his teeth and next up was brushing his hair. his hair was soft, silky, shiny, just overall very healthy because he rarely dyes it. he usually never lets anyone else touch his hair but he requested for you to do it and you felt honoured. <3

you put his hair in a half ponytail [a/n: the same as in thunderous m/v🤭🫶] and waited as he did his skincare.

later on he stepped out from the bathroom and climbed on you. his cologne immediately made you relaxed and that was when you realised that he was your home.

you snapped from your thoughts as you felt his plush, pink tinted lips on yours. your lipstick smudged lightly but that was the least of your worries right now.

his lips moved so smoothly on yours. you felt like you were on cloud 9.

he slightly bit your lip as asking for permission to enter your mouth. you nodded under his touch as his tongue was dancing with yours. your breath was now long forgotten, too deep in the kiss.

he pulled away though, looking at you with wide open eyes. he looked cute, yet surprised. he let out a small giggle as he hugged you.

💚 a/n: thank you for reading and thank you anon for requesting! <3 reblogs and requests are highly appreciated! hope you enjoyed <3

#kpop imagines #kpop #skz imagines #kpop fluff #skz fluff #lovingmny #hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin skz #skz hyunjin

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theivorybilledwoodpecker · 7 days

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Anyone else get pedophile vibes from Rothman?

From Russian Roulette:

And that night, I met Julia Rothman for the second time. She had sent her personal launch to collect me, a beautiful vessel that was all teak and chrome with a silver scorpion molded into the bow. It carried me beneath the famous Bridge of Sighs—I hoped that was not an omen—and on to the Widow’s Palace where we had first met. She was dressed, once again, in black; this time a very low-cut dress with a zip down one side, which I recognized at once as the work of the designer Gianni Versace. We ate in her private dining room, a long table lit by candles and surrounded by paintings—Picasso, Cézanne, van Gogh—all of them worth millions. We began with soup, then lobster, finally a creamy custard mixed with wine that the Italians call zabaglione. The food was delicious, but as I ate I was aware of her examining me, watching every mouthful, and I knew that I was still being tested. “I’m very pleased with you, Yassen,” she said as the coffee was poured. The whole meal had been served by two men in white jackets and black pants, her personal waiters. “Do you think you’re ready?” “Yes, Mrs. Rothman,” I replied. “You can stop calling me that now.” She smiled at me and I was once again struck by her film-star looks. “I prefer Julia.” .... She reached out and, just for a moment, her fingers brushed against the back of my hand. “You know, Yassen,” she said, “you are incredibly good-looking. I thought that the moment I saw you, and your five months on Malagosto have done nothing but improve you.” She sighed and drew her hand away. “Russian boys aren’t quite my thing,” she continued. “Or else who knows what we might get up to? But it will certainly help you in your work. Death should always come smartly dressed.”

From Scorpia:

Julia Rothman had the best table, in the middle of the terrace, with views over Positano and out to sea. She was sitting on her own with a glass of champagne, waiting for him, wearing a low-cut black dress with a simple diamond necklace around her neck. She saw him, smiled, and waved. Alex walked over to her, feeling suddenly self-conscious in the suit. Most of the other diners seemed to be casually dressed. He wished now that he hadn’t put on the tie. “Alex, you look wonderful.” She ran her dark eyes over him. “The suit fits you perfectly. It’s Miu Miu, isn’t it? I love the style. Please. Sit down.” Alex took his place at the table. He wondered what anyone watching might think. A mother and her son out for the evening? He felt like an extra in a film—and he was beginning to wish someone would show him the script. “It’s been a while since I ate dinner with my own boy toy. Will you have some champagne?” .... “All right,” she said when they were gone. “Let’s finish eating and talk about other things. You can tell me about Brookland. I want to know what music you listen to and what sports teams you support. Do you have a girlfriend? I’m sure a boy as handsome as you gets plenty of offers. Now I’ve made you blush.

#julia rothman #alex rider #yassen gregorovich

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suzdin · 8 months

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Okay hear me out - Tim Rockford smut. Maybe like, getting fucked on/over his desk? Just a thought. 😇

I like the way you think 😎👉👉

——

Tim doesn’t even notice you enter his office.

He’s hunched over his monitor, chin rested in his hands, face pinched tight in concentration. He was good about not bringing his work home with him—but here, in his element at the precinct, amidst the mish mosh of a particularly grisly homicide case—he was a far different animal than the Tim you shared a bed with.

His eyes are dark, brow furrowed into a hard line. You aren’t sure what he’s looking at—you don’t want to know—but you’re certain it can’t be good judging by the frown deepening his features.

You close the door quietly behind you. The small sound is enough to jar him, and his eyes brighten to a familiar honey brown when he sees you.

“Hey, baby,” he says quietly. You can sense the relief in his tone.

“Hey,” you greet in return. “I brought dinner?” you say, forming it as a question. You don’t want to interfere if he’s on the verge of a breakthrough.

“Oh, yeah, right. Of course. What time is it?” he asks.

“Seven thirty. PM,” you reply. “Knew you must be working late again, so I picked up Chinese. Your favorite,” you say, putting the bag down on his desk.

The relief you’d detected a moment ago transitions to something different, something far more un-itched, insatiable, the moment he rises from his chair and crosses the room to you, hooking both arms around your middle and pulling you into an embrace, placing a small kiss to your clavicle.

“I’m sorry I’ve been working so much lately. I miss you,” he murmurs against your throat.

You lean into the kiss, humming softly. “I miss you, too. Do you have time to eat with me?” you ask.

You feel him grin into your skin, large hands tracing a path up your sides, then once more down your back, where they settle before the dip in your spine.

“I’m not particularly hungry, but I can think of something else I’d like to eat,” he says with a crooked smirk.

“Tim! Right here? In the office?” you scoff, swatting at his wandering hands.

“Can’t think of any other reason you’d wear this skimpy little sundress at seven thirty at night if not for me…” he tuts in a deep timbre. Your skin prickles with goosebumps. “Besides, everyone is busy watching the game. They won’t pay us much mind.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, but you make no attempt to stop the roving path of his finger tips skimming just below the hem of your dress, brushing your thighs, or when one of his broad, warm hands cups one of your asscheeks.

“Mmm,” he grunts into your neck, still planting soft kisses there. “Smell so good for me too, baby.” You’re wearing Versace Yellow Diamond—his favorite.

“Okay,” you snicker, biting your lip playfully. “Alright, I confess. I wanted to look nice for you. Maybe brighten your day a little.”

He licks a slow stripe from your collarbone to the bare rise of your shoulder, pausing there to nip at your skin. You emit a breathy moan, your head dropping back.

Tim makes a noise of approval in his throat at the small sound. Eyes locking with yours, his hand moves from your ass to the soft cradle of your panties between your legs, smiling when he feels damp cotton.

“Mm. Can think of a few ways you can brighten my day.” His fingers press down harder, rubbing slowly over your clothed clit and seam. You dip your face to his chest to muffle the moan that bubbles up.

He moves his hands to your hips and walks you backwards to the desk, gently pressing you against it as you collide with the cool metal. You watch his eyes shift from dark honey to chocolate to near black, but in a way different than before. A way that you know all too well.

His hands traverse your body, kneading you under his fingers with admiration, drinking in the sight of you in that sundress; the way it clings in all the right places, shows off just the right amount of skin.

“All of this. All for me,” he whispers, hooking his fingers below, lifting the dress above your head and pulling it off.

You shiver, having never been naked in his office before. The most you’d ever done is give him a blowjob under his desk, which you’d kind of half expected to happen again. Being this exposed is as much a turn on as it is frightening.

If there’s one thing you know for certain about Tim, it’s that he likes to be in control, something you were all too willing to relinquish to him, so long as it helped to bring him out of his head about his job. And right now it seems to be doing the trick nicely.

His kisses are harder now, more ravenous, kissing and sucking everything within reach—your lips, your jaw, your neck and shoulders. His weight is pinning you firmly against the desk, one hand deftly spreading your legs as his fingers trail over the spot in your panties that is growing increasingly more wet.

Without saying a word, he spins you, your pelvis flush with the edge of the desk, placing a hand between your shoulder blades and pushing you forward until your cheek makes contact with the metal. You let out a chirp of surprise, and he hushes you, chastising.

“Shh, baby.”

You feel Tim crouch behind you, his hands squeezing your hips as he tugs you slightly back. He presses his face into your heat, strong arched nose bumping your seam as he inhales your scent.

“Smell so fucking good,” he growls, pushing your panties to the side and flattening his tongue against you, swiping a slow path between your folds.

“Oh god, Tim,” you groan, rolling your hips in tandem with his movements. “You feel…a-amazing.”

He pulls you further apart with his hands, the tip of his tongue circling your clit for a few laps, making you buck involuntarily at the stimulation. He chuckles and the sound vibrates your core, feeling like fucking heaven.

His attention returns to your fluttering hole, his tongue dipping inside of you, lapping gingerly at your walls, pressing as deep as he can, the slow drag making you thrum and clench around the small muscle.

“Taste like heaven, baby,” he praises, bringing two of his fingers up to softly swirl the bud of your clit, and it’s too much; too much and not enough all at the same time.

“Feel like heaven,” you say with a whimper, your body starting to writhe from all the stimulation, a single hand coming up to depress the small of your back to keep you from squirming.

“Stay still,” he scolds, but you love it. You love to be his plaything.

You grapple for purchase on the desk, just trying to maintain some modicum of dignity and composure as Tim is slowly unraveling you from behind, and you guess by the noises he’s making in reverence to your pleasure that you coming undone is exactly what is spurring him on; he needs to get you off before he can make you his.

The sounds he’s making into your core are downright salacious, obscene, and utterly delicious, that familiar and welcome pressure beginning to flower low in your pelvis.

He senses you’re close and increases the rate of ministrations to your sensitive clit, knowing by heart exactly how much pressure to use, how much you enjoy. At the same time, his cheeks hollow to drink and suckle at your opening, the combination of his mouth and fingers threatening to completely unmake you by the time he’s through.

You bite back a sobbing moan and then you’re coming, hard, into his mouth, his hands planting you firmly in place while he rides out your high, his own soft moans and chirps of satisfaction muffled deep in the tunnel of your pussy.

He doesn’t pull away until you’re protesting that it’s too much, the sensations are too much, tears threatening to spring from your eyes from the overstimulation. “Wish we were in bed so I could hear those pretty sounds at full volume,” he croons.

He stands, one hand still heavy on your back as he rises, and you hear the metallic clink of metal, the grinding of a zipper. Next thing you know, you feel the rock hard press of him at your opening, teasing you as he gathers your slick.

You can practically feel the tension radiating off of him in waves, how much he needs this release.

“You don’t have to go slow, Tim,” you tell him. “Use me.”

He doesn’t make any sound or any attempt to move, at first. You wish you could see his face so you could know exactly what he’s thinking, though you’re pretty sure you have a good idea.

His fingers curl into the heel of your back. “Use you,” he repeats darkly. “I’ll use you.”

His hips abruptly snap forward into yours, sinking himself all the way to the hilt, balls slapping into you from behind, all of it causing you to cry out.

“Quiet,” he scolds again, soon followed by a roar of cheers you hear from beyond his office door, the rest of the precinct still watching the game a telling reminder that you aren’t alone. “Here.”

A thin strip of leather is lowered in front of your face, smelling distinctly of him. “Open up.”

Your mouth drops open and he pushes his belt between your teeth; you bite down, understanding the implications of the silent ask.

“That’s it, baby. Every time you want to scream, bite down harder for me, okay? Imprint yourself on me.” The words go straight to your core and you moan, the belt already working like a charm as your noises get lost in the leather.

“Good girl,” he praises.

He grabs your arms by the wrists and twists them behind your back, holding them in place with his much larger hand as he rails into you from behind, a preferred position of his. He loved having you completely pinned like this. He knew you loved it, too.

The wet squelch of where he’s currently driving into you is loud and indecent in the small office, the desk groaning under your combined weights. You’ve never let him fuck you here before, but you always knew he wanted to. It was thrilling and terrifying knowing someone could hear, someone could walk in at any moment and catch you—see just how much he loves to make you fall apart.

His own release is imminent, not too far on the horizon now, with how tense and worked up he’s been. You know you’ll probably cum again when he does, the sensation of his spend shooting into you often piloting you once more over the edge, each stutter step of his hips as he grows ever closer sending delicious vibrations straight to your core.

You moan and bite down harder on the belt, the sound dying in the leather and the column of your throat.

He snarls from behind you. “You ready for my cum, baby?” he asks, breathlessly, barely able to get the words out, so close to coming undone.

You can’t speak, so you nod fervently in response.

“Yes— oh yes. Gonna fill you.” A deep, dark growl rushes out of him, loud enough to be heard by someone who might be paying attention, and you think he probably needs the belt more than you do.

He cums deep inside of you, thick ropes of semen painting your walls, driving you to your second orgasm; you go boneless beneath him, clenching tight around his length, sucking him in further. You would cry out, if you could. Instead, you dig your teeth further into the belt, tasting the leather on your tongue.

“Good. Fucking. Girl,” he growls, each word defined by a rut of his hips as he empties the last of himself into you. “So— so fucking good to me.”

You feel a string of cum dribble out of you as he pulls out, and he chuckles, peering down at you to admire his work.

“Look at you, fucked full of me,” he says, plunging two fingers deep in your pussy to push himself back inside. “Want you leaking me the rest of the night.”

He helps you up and redresses you, sliding the dress back over your head and straightening it out for you, making sure you look nice and proper once more. You kind of wish you didn’t.

“Alright,” Tim says, kissing you affectionately, his love for you far greater than what he can articulate. “Let’s have dinner.”

#writing #author #fanfic #pedro pascal #romance #smut #tim rockford #merge mansion

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violetsaffron5 · 1 year

Text

Infinity

8 | Mandrills

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Summary:

Spending some quality time with Geto

words: 4031

It’s not even been a week and you find yourself in yet another bar. This one is quieter, classier than the last. The lights are dim and the music playing is low, just loud enough to hear amidst the conversation happening between friends and lovers.

You’re sitting at the bar sipping on your cocktail, looking over the room, watching as couples laugh and lean into one another, trying to make out what’s being said from the low rumble filling the small space.

You’re wearing a floor length black Versace dress paired with a dainty diamond necklace; this ensemble costs more than a year’s rent. It’s certainly not what you expected to be doing or wearing on a Thursday night.

No, tonight you planned on staying in after having spent the last few nights hanging out with Shoko and Satoru. Rest and relaxation. You were looking forward to it.

That is until Geto showed up at your door unannounced, dress bag and shoes in hand telling you to get changed and you two were going out for some quality time. Whatever that means.

So, you’re here. Sitting awkwardly next to the man in question who has his raven hair pulled all the way back into a neat bun, a suit you’re sure is just as expensive as your dress, drinking his own cocktail.

“So… what are we doing here?” Geto wouldn’t say where you were going, and you’re not familiar enough with Tokyo to even know if you’re still in the city, though you’d venture to guess probably not since it took an hour to get to this location.

“Just wanted to have a little chat among other things.”

“Ok, well, I’m here,” you chuckle awkwardly, “not sure why we couldn’t have hung out at my place or even at the -”

“Do you think you can be monogamous with your… abilities?” Suguru asks, swirling the dark liquor in his glass around the large round ice cube.

You’re taken back by his sudden line of questioning. This is something you would expect Shoko or Utahime to ask, but not Geto. He’s always been kind, albeit fairly quiet when you’re around.

“Uhh, yeah. I think so. I mean, it hasn’t really been a problem so far.”

Sure there have been wants, urges, wondering how someone’s hands would feel on your body when you go out, but it hasn’t been anything more than that. Satoru has helped keep your hunger in check which helps greatly minimize these desires, keeps things less overwhelming.

“Mm. Good point,” he begins, side eyeing you, “when Satoru tells you he’s meeting with the higher ups, he’s really meeting with other women to hookup. The higher ups only meet a few times a year or when anything interesting comes up. Like you.”

You shake your head and blink several times, trying to take in everything he just told you. “Um. Okay, thanks… I guess.” Clenching your jaw, you take another sip of your drink, the weight of what Suguru just said causing a heavy lump to form in the center of your chest.

“Awe, don’t be sad.” He coos after a few moments, giving a weak smile, “there was never a chance he was going to settle down, let alone with someone who’s barely even human.”

“I’m not sad,” you defend, “I’m just…”

Honestly, you’re not sure. Maybe it’s all true and you’ve been reading a little too much into what’s been going on between you and Satoru. He’s flirty, “nice to everyone,” as Shoko put it once. It’s not like you’re expecting a commitment from him, at the end of the day, he is just helping you out, but honesty would be nice.

“You’ll never be more than a good fuck. That’s just how he operates.” You’re not looking at Suguru, but you can hear a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Ok, Geto. I got it. Thanks.” You snap at him.

A lot of it is mindless self-indulgent sex; Satoru getting the rush of adrenaline when you siphon his energy, you being able to feed without waking up next to a cold body. It’s addicting, he’s addicting - the endless amounts of stamina on nights that never seem to end, and you don’t want them to; the way his body feels pressed against your own as he’s pounding into you so hard you’re convinced he’s trying to split you in half, and how after he’s kissing you tenderly, sweetly, afterward telling you how beautiful you look, how amazing you are.

There’s also an undeniable chemistry shared between the two of you. Sure, he might not tell you the ins and outs of his life, but you do know he’s creative, reliable, makes you laugh more than you ever have before, annoys you more than anyone ever has before. But you don’t mind, not really.

Geto isn’t giving you a lot of time to dwell on it before he’s standing, motioning for you to take his arm. You give a weak smile, placing your drink on the counter, looping your arm through his wondering where you’re off to now.

He leads you down a hall you’re sure you’re not allowed to be in, taking you down a flight of stairs to a basement. The hall is dark, dingy and dirty, very different from the pristine and clean environment you were just in.

“We’re here for a mission,” Geto says quietly before reaching the bottom of the stairs. “Follow my lead.”

“What is the largest monkey in the world?” A voice asks from behind a closed door, and you’re taken aback by the odd line of questioning presented to you, yet again.

“Mandrills.” Geto replies easily through an eyeroll, like he doesn’t quite believe that answer.

The door clicks, having been unlocked before opening, allowing the two of you in, down another dimly lit corridor.

“If we’re on a mission, why are we in such expensive clothes? I mean, won’t this get ruined?”

Suguru stops, just short of another door at the end of the hall, turning to face you. “There’s a dress code for places like this. I can’t have you coming in here wearing,” he stops to look you up and down, a scowl on his face, “what you normally wear.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You seethe, wondering just what kind of mission this could be and what it entails, and why he’s choosing to be such a dick to you tonight.

Suguru doesn’t answer as he opens the door, motioning for you to enter before him. And whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this.

“Are we… playing poker?” You ask incredulously.

“You are playing blackjack, and you need to win so I have a shot at collecting a cursed tool.” He’s whispering, keeping his voice down so the others around don’t hear as the two of you walk around between the tables that had been set up for tonight.

You’re not replying to him, taking in the words he’s said but not really understanding why you have to play a part in this little mission.

Each table is set up with a dealer, getting the tables ready for guests to sit at, all wearing tuxes. The other guests, you presume, are all dressed to the nines - just as you are - showcasing their wealth by flaunting top of the line name brand attire and jewelry. The room is small, and even though there are less people down here than upstairs, it sounds just as loud, the low murmur of everyone talking at one time.

Geto sighs before pinching the bridge of his nose, stopping in a little vacant section of the room, “the pet,” you raise an eyebrow as he points to you, “will be playing the first round. If the pet wins, then their master gets to move onto the second round. We both need to win in order to get our hands on the cursed tool.”

“So, it’s some sort of fucked up blackmarket.”

“No cursed energy or abilities allowed either, so you need to be discreet. No pulling the shit you did at the club when Satoru and Nanami were there and making it obvious.”

A man walks over, tall, skinny, in a suit that doesn’t look like anything special, but likely costs more than your dress and asks for your name. He gives a kind smile, offering his hand to lead you to the table you’re set to play the game at.

“One more thing,” Suguru stops you before you can take the man's hand and walk away, “the higher ups have asked for this mission to remain… quiet. So no speaking about it with anyone.” You nod your head before pursing your lips.

As you walk away you could swear you heard Geto quietly say, “and make sure you win. Satoru would kill me if you get sold off.” You furrow your brows turning back to the raven haired man mouthing “what the fuck?” before he shrugs and walks off, leaving you to your own devices.

You’re seated between two men, who are also set to play against you. You give them a warm smile and wave, as they smile back to you. They seem nice enough. It’s just a game of blackjack afterall, simple, easy.

One where people are sold off at the end. No big deal at all.

The cards are shuffled in front of you as the dealer explains that only one of you will be the winner, but of course there’s the possibility of all three of you losing, and in that case nobody will move forward into the next round. And just for them to add a little curve and anxiety to the mix, the only way to lose is to go over 21, anyone under will remain in the game until either everyone has gone over or a clear winner has been indicated.

There’s not much you can do here in terms of your abilities, you tried to learn to count cards when you were younger, living on your own, but you never quite got the hang of it, so you’re really truly banking on good luck.

“So, uh, what’s the prize tonight?” You ask curiously since Geto didn’t really give too much information.

Your opponents give a quizzical look before one of them says, “wow, you haven’t been told much, have you?”

You shake your head, it’s the truth, you’re working off minimal details, “no. We play poker at home, and I’m pretty good at it. He thought I’d be beneficial with his… endeavors tonight.” A lie, but they don’t need to know that.

“It’s a three piece staff, called Playful Cloud.” You nod your head, never heard of it, but it must be special if the higher ups are looking to add it to the schools collection.

The dealer has laid out all the cards, the man to your right passes his turn. You have 15 and take the risk to hit, as does the man to your left. After the additional cards have been dealt, you’re at 18, and choose to pass, not wanting to risk going over, while the man to your left hits again.

After those cards have been dealt, everyone shows their hand; the dealer is at 22, the man on the left is at 24, to the right, 20, and you’re at 18. One person out, a slight weight has been lifted. Just you and the other man remaining now.

Returning your cards, the dealer shuffles again before passing two to each of you once again. You’re only at 5, so you hit again, the man to your right does the same. This happens for a few more turns, each of the card numbers you’re getting are low, bringing your current total to 12.

Humming to yourself, you decide to try something, to see if you can figure out where he stands. Trailing a finger on the fabric of the suit the man next to you is wearing, feeling the soft, smooth silky fabric under your index finger, and leaning in just slightly closer to him.

“You know,” your voice is slow, sultry, “I really do love a man in a suit.”

He side-eyes you with a grin, just before your finger touches the skin of his neck he answers, “me too,” and gives a wink. You smile back, a slight pout on your lips before returning to your seat normally, asking the dealer to hit again. You could attempt to use your powers on him, but it’s best to not draw attention, like Geto pointed out earlier, so you leave it for now.

Neither the dealer nor your opponent take a card this time; you’re not entirely sure you want to flip over the card on the table you were just given, a knot forming in your stomach. You don’t look at the card, too nervous about the way this could end - you’ll just have to believe in the heart of the cards, or whatever the saying is.

You nod and everyone reveals their hands; 18, 23, 27.

You sigh a breath of relief, not really sure if what Suguru said was true, that you’d be sold off, but you sure as hell didn’t want to fuck around and find out when you’re attending a very illegal underground blackjack game as is. You stand on shaky legs, clenching and unclenching your fists, just now noticing how sweaty they had gotten during that encounter, how nervous you were, especially at the end.

The two men you were playing with tell you congratulations and stay behind, you don’t look back. You don’t want to even think about the consequences of them losing.

You’re led to a locker room where Suguru stands shirtless, only in his black dress pants, removing the belt around his waist. He doesn’t look up when you walk in, barely acknowledges your presence.

You look him over, shoulders slightly more muscular and broad than Satoru’s, with a dragon tattoo covering his back with the tail ending at the wrist of his right hand. It’s very well done, traditional, black and white aside from the purple eyes. He’s just as toned and defined as Satoru, just as attractive. You clear your throat and swallow thickly in an attempt to distract yourself.

“Are the “pets” really going to be sold, or were you just saying that?” You take a seat at the bench across from him, crossing your legs and folding your arms over your chest, watching as he neatly folds his shirt and rolls his belt before placing them inside one of the lockers.

“Not sure. It’s what I heard. Thought it might give you a little push to win.”

He’s sitting on the bench across from you, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck as he explains what’s going to happen next. He’s going to be bare-knuckle fighting in cage matches, this could go on all night but he needs you to manipulate the rounds, get him in sooner, less fights. And when it’s all said and done, you need to leave quickly before your abilities wear off and anyone suspects the two of you of foul play. At least not before he gets the weapon in his hands.

He gives you a gentle smile, one you’ve seen too many times from him. And all the sudden it looks more fake than it ever has before. Suguru has been incredibly hot and cold to you tonight, more than you’ve ever seen and you’re wondering if he’s insane. Satoru can be bad, going from jovial to serious in the blink of an eye but this is beyond that. This is something else.

You hum, giving a weak smile - how are you supposed to respond to something like aside from being pissed off that he lied to you. That this whole night has been nothing but a lie.

It doesn’t matter, because you’re following him out of the small locker room into another equally small room with a wire cage set up in the middle. The space is filled to the brim with people, more than you’ve seen in any bar or club you’ve ever been to. It’s louder in here, people with drinks in their hands, being rowdy, boisterous laughter and yelling coming from all directions.

Suguru points in the general direction of where you’ll find the person in charge of organizing the bouts - you have a job to do, so you do your best to push down all the stress and anxiety you were just feeling a moment prior, pushing and squeezing your way past people until you reach your destination.

There’s a lone man sitting at a table organizing several names in front of him, there’s likely a method to his madness - luckily for you, he’s doing it rather old school, with a whiteboard that has brackets drawn onto it, and he’ll tape the names in each space to show everyone’s position and who they’ll be fighting next.

From the distance you’re at, you can barely make out Suguru’s name on his list, towards the bottom, likely because the two of you just showed up to compete not that long ago.

“Hi,” you’re yelling, making your presence known in the sea of people you’re in. He turns to you, looking you quickly up and down, returning the smile before going to place some of the names on the board.

“What’s your name?” You’re watching as he adds the names to each of the brackets, Suguru indeed being one of the last, with several rounds set to go before him.

The man answers, you’re not really listening, watching from the corner of your eye as he takes a seat. With his back turned, you grab Suguru’s name, and the second name from the second set of brackets and switch them quickly, trying not to make what you just did totally obvious to anyone.

He doesn’t seem to notice, instead you sit next to him as he makes small talk, asks if you’ve been here before, done anything like this in the past. All of your answers are lies, trying to make yourself seem as seasoned as possible.

It doesn’t take long for the first round to get started. It’s two men, both you’re unfamiliar with, in the cage with a referee. When they start, you opt to not pay much attention to them, after all, you’ve seen people throw plenty of punches over the last few months, thrown plenty yourself when training and fighting curses.

You continue to talk to the man, doing your best to keep his attention on you. It doesn’t take a lot, he’s leaning into you, answering your silly little questions, telling you the ins and outs of his job.

And then it’s Suguru’s turn. You do watch this fight, having never seen him in action before. He stands tall, taller than his opponent but only by a few inches, more muscular too. If he wasn’t being such an ass tonight, you’d say he looks like an angel with the way the dim light is cascading over his muscles, highlighting his features in just the right way, showing all the sharp edges.

Suguru’s fist immediately cracks the jaw of his opponent - you could hear it as it happened, even over the crowd. They’re both throwing punches, but Suguru is easily able to dodge, bouncing from toe to toe as he absolutely pummels his opponent into the floor. For a brief second, you’re not even sure his opponent is even alive until someone else is helping him stand, removing him from the cage as Suguru watches with a cat-like grin that matches his eyes.

The matches all go quickly, you’re laughing with the man who is organizing the names, channeling your energy into him, persuading where to put names.

He listens, leaning into your touch every time you make contact with him. Your annoyance at Suguru and the mission grows more and more each round as you keep using your powers on the poor soul sitting next to you, more and more annoyed with each time he leans over, hands on your thigh trying to make a move. You place a finger to his lips each time, telling him “not now,” hoping he doesn’t realize that time will never come.

It’s the final round, finally. The matches went by quickly, though it still took several hours. You’ve heard enough bones crunching, skulls being knocked into the mat, teeth shatter, blood and spit spilling everywhere to be ready to call it a night.

Suguru is in the ring again, laughing like a maniac as he dips and dodges his opponent’s punches and kicks. He’s received several across his body and to his face during his matches, his lip bloodied and jaw swollen. He’ll need to go see Shoko no doubt in order to heal up.

You briefly wonder what kinds of questions she would ask about his wounds, or if these are something she’s used to seeing him with.

You’re not left wondering for long, because you hear the referee blow his whistle, yelling something about “illegal” moves while pulling the two men off of each other. Watching intently, it appears the referee is conferring with several others, likely trying to decide how to call the match.

You’re not sure what this was called for, but it was very likely because of Suguru, judging by the smug grin he has plastered on his face as he eyes you walking over to the cage, near the referee waiting for him to finish his current conversation.

When he’s done, you’re reaching your hand into the cage, caressing the ankle of the referee before he has a chance to make the call, he looks down to you, furrowed eyebrows, curious as to what you could want. Using your index finger, you motion for him to bend down, and of course he does, you’ve been using your energy on him from the moment you touched him.

“I think Suguru won this round, don’t you think so too?” Your voice is hardly a whisper, breath caressing the shell of his ear. He looks to you, eyes wide and nods his head as you bite your lip and whisper a barely audible “yeah.”

The man stands, moving towards the center of the ring where Suguru and his opponent stand bloodied, waiting on the results of the match.

“And the winner is… Suguru!” The crowd has mixed emotions, where half of them seem to erupt in cheers, the other half seem to be booing at the announcement.

You don’t wait around to see Suguru’s reactions, you’ve turned on your heel, looking to make a quick getaway before a certain hot and horny man comes to find you, either pissed you used your abilities when it was against the rules or looking to have a good time that you’re really not all that interested in.

You leave, getting in the nearest cab you could find. Fuck Geto, fuck this mission. He can do all of the damn paperwork, especially if it’s as secretive as he claims it needs to stay.

Instead, you’re dialing Satoru’s number, annoyed and angry at Suguru for putting you in these positions tonight. You don’t expect Satoru to do anything about it - it’s already happened, but you need to vent and maybe even relieve some stress - something Satoru is very good at helping you accomplish, but he doesn’t answer. As soon as you hang up the call, a text comes through.

Satoru: Can’t talk, about to meet with the higher ups

A wry chuckle leaves your lips after reading his message. It’s well past midnight, there’s no way those old fuckers are meeting at this time of night.

Taking a deep breath you lay your head on the back of the seat as the driver takes you home. You let your mind wander, to what Geto said at the beginning of the night, everything he said about Satoru. And it hurts more than it should, more than you want it to, so you decide maybe it’s for the best if you don’t tell Satoru about tonight after all.

Taglist: @z33sblog @thisbicc @q-the-rockaholic @septembersums @septembersummer @nothisispatrick300 @km7474 @missyasma @greenlovers @naorizenin @a1hina @plants-w0rld

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squishycheekanon · 2 years

Text

SugarDaddy!Techno x reader

Isn’t that right Prada?

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Swearing. It’s @simply-vulpecula made me do it.

“Good boys who listen get to sleep in the bed, Isn’t that right Prada?” The little maltese yaps at you looking so happy, her tail wagging while she glances between you and the angry man behind her. His arms folded, his face contorted in annoyed pout.

“You keep pouting like that and your face will stay that way.” You snark stroking Prada’s head.

“Forgive me?” He licks his lips, taking a step forward, his eyes roaming over your smooth legs. Freshly waxed from this morning when you popped to the salon, you decided to get your eyebrows shaped and you were offered more treatment.

For free of course because Techno Blade’s mrs doesn’t pay for things.

“Forgive you?” You raise your eyebrows with a scoff and Techno grows rock hard, the bulge in his black slacks being ignored by the both of you.

He can’t focus on the laptop in front of him telling him that his rival is trying to by stocks in his company because you giggle and it’s so fucking cute. But his smitten smile drops when he sees you rubbing noses with Prada. Something so fucking adorable and yet he glares. He regrets it. The first decision including you that he regrets.

“Why should I forgive you?” You lift one of your legs up bending it so your lover gets a perfect view of your underwear. Versace, probably one of the most expensive pieces you own. It’s lace sown together in the shape of diamonds, he remembers being in the private dressing room and watching as you hooked the bra. His cock painfully hard when you twirl, hands smoothing over your exposed body.

“Because,” he swallows taking another step forward, the front of his legs hitting the wooden frame of the bed. His eyes flicker to the puppy who stares at him and tilts her head before she snuggles against you once more. His hands tense and untense, his jealously flaring along with his nostrils.

You’re so bratty and he loves it but it’s being directed at him. He’s not happy.

“Because what?” Your voice is tangled with so much attitude that he snaps. His mind reeling with everything he wants to do to you.

“You’re such a brat.” He groans thrusting up, “why?” He asks his hand coming up to wrap around your throat, a grin slips onto his lips.

He knows it’s his fault.

“Because I can.” Your giggle merges with a moan, your back arching. The large mirror that was fitted on the ceiling shows you your reflection. Your cheeks flushed red, sweat glistening on your skin, your hair messy and sticking to your forehead. Yet the man underneath you looks the same as he did this morning when he was working so sexily at his desk.

You feel him everywhere, he’s so deep you swear you see the outline of his cock inside you. Techno said that watching yourself be fucked is the hottest things you’ll ever see,

“you’re so pretty when you cum, you have to see it.” He sucked on your earlobe, both of you watching the construction men carry the massive mirror inside the new mansion. The architect shouting at some of the guys to hold it straight.

“Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Techno’s nose runs along the side of your throat inhaling sharply.

Barking stops his thrusts “Prada.” You warn looking at the puppy whose chasing her own tail on the floor. She looks at you and sneezes. You coo and aww at the cute little thing.

“Pay attention babygirl.” Techno growls bringing your attention back to the mirror, his eyes bore into yours. He chuckles darkly when you clench around him. “That’s it” he thrusts into you again and again and again picking up the pace, he can’t help but say fuck it to the slow build he needed to feel you cum around him.

His hips slam against your ass, the room filled with the sound of skin slapping together and laboured breathing just adds to how hot you feel. Because fuck he was right, watching the way his cock disappears inside you on a repeat is the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

The way he throws his head back and groans. The stubble on his face adding to how fucking sexy he looks. “Your pussy always feels so good.” He’s breathless, “oh fuck yes.”

You feel the sweet sweet burn of the euphoric stretch that always comes with your sugardaddy’s big cock. You just about manage to moan out an apology before your vision blurs and tears streak down your cheeks. He feels so fucking good, with each thrust you’re pushed closer to the edge.

Your moans and his mixing together into the ac chilled air, his pace building dramatically, becoming more and more intense the longer he fucks you. It’s brutish and rough.

His swollen tip glides over the spot inside you, your body goes still and you can’t do anything except let it happen. And you do, you let the tsunami of pleasure crash into you it pumps through your viens absolutely demolishing what’s left of your attitude.

Tags:

@victory-is-here

@simply-vulpecula

@lillianastuff

@fionamk1001

@megnotfound

@vanivivs

@cherryblossomdelusion

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exoticdiamonds007 · 2 years

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levanterhaze · 2 years

Text

✧ HOW TO LOVE WITH BTS (HYUNG LINE)

→ jin x reader | yoongi x reader | namjoon x reader | hoseok x reader

→ just a drabble with how the hyung line demonstrates affection & love

→ warning: light smut, nothing to worry about and most fluffly things

kim seokjin, expensive gifts

everything about this man is about wealth and elegance. jin definitely likes to flaunt his fancy suits, imported cars, and lush jewelry, but he prefers to do it all when it comes to you. yes, he sends gifts to your workplace and everyone’s keep wondering what's in that little Versace bag. he constantly gives you distinct gifts, the most extravagant. jewelry, high heels, dresses, bags. but he never does it to show that he obviously has money, but because he wants you to have a comfortable life too. it's his way of showing love and affection. then he presents you with a beautiful dress and a diamond choker, only to sit in an armchair in the hotel room later that night and pour himself a glass of ice and whiskey. "take it off for me." is all he says. he watches you disentangle yourself from the dress, slowly running down your body. and you feel cheap, nefarious, undressing in front of your boyfriend, as he watches you, wearing a million dollar worth suit. then afterward, he brusquely fucks you in front of the window, with you wearing only the jewelry he gave you.

min yoongi, his muse

it's common knowledge that min yoongi writes and produces his own music and he does it in favor of art, of course. but behind all the genius lyrics and rap, there's an inspiration: you. and yoongi finds inspiration in the littlest things that many consider worthless. he’s a simple man but he loves you despite everything. it doesn't matter if he's singing about an ostentatious life or the difficult stages of coping with anxiety and depression: you're behind every letter, every syllable, every meaning. the love he feels for you is so intense, that on a day-to-day basis, he wakes up, seeing you breathing lightly, your body on top of his, and thus, he feels refreshed, because he has a muse. not only the love and support you give him, but also the forbidden meetings in his studio, when he’s overworked and stays up until late night producing and working. you sneak through the halls, taking advantage of the moment to see him. you love each other there, with the achingly insane idea that getting caught by someone is reckless. but you don't care about anything else when he's inside you, hands buried in his hair, hissing babbles in every kiss and every touch.

kim namjoon, soft dates

you've known namjoon too long to discern the parallel life he leads. the man who takes the stage, throwing bars everywhere, making people go insane with that persona, isn’t the same namjoon you know. the namjoon who likes to go to museums with you. which explains his favorite work of art that he knows by heart. he likes to be reserved and have a simple but meaningful life with you. that means spending the day at the beach, walking and having fun. eat cheap but tasty food in places no one else knows but him. enjoy nature, have outdoor picnics, where he prepares sandwiches and fresh fruit for the two of you. namjoon’s romantic and values comfort. it also results in classic movie nights and the two of you trying to piece together a gigantic marvel puzzle, just to prove you can do it. namjoon also likes to make love. slow, passionate, with his hands over yours as he worships your body. spending time with you is what he loves most, aside from the music and career he has.

jung hoseok, traveling

if there’s a man who’s eager to know the world, new cultures, that man is hoseok. but he prefers to have these experiences with you. so whenever possible, he tries to book a trip for the two of you. whether in romantic nights in hawaii, riding a speedboats and having fun day and night on the most paradisiacal islands or making out sessions in the pool, with few lights on with tropical cocktails. he wants to know everything and everyone at the same time, try foods, get to know cultures, see important places, learn about everything. so that makes you his faithful accomplice on all trips. in paris, under the light of the city of love, or on excursions in a paradisiacal place in brazil, where you have contact with nature and everything seems too magical to be true. hoseok wants to fill out his passport pages, but it's only worth it if you're together. and on every trip, he makes sure to have some kind of amulet, so you can never forget the amazing times you've had together during all these trips around the world.

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