#like you're having an affair with her husband ma'am

[zalrb]

sidepieces being indignant when the political wife is like, have your affair as long as you're part of the team and know your role is my favourite thing

#like you're having an affair with her husband ma'am #you don't get to be indignant lmaoooo

[bitchlessdino]

Sexy DK request time: He's tied to the bed and you do a strip show for him, he can't touch you, can only see your sexy af self, you can take this anywhere you like- Sam @dkakapizzaboy

Pairing: husband of mistress seokmin x fem married!reader Genre: angst, smut, slight fluff Word count:7.7k tags: insecure seokmin, mutual infidelity, unprotective sex, sub!seokmin, dom!reader, strip teases, male bondage, mention of fem oral, blow jobs, "ma'am" svt member!husband, let me know if I’m missing any! Summary: With the mutual understanding being cheated on, Seokmin finds solace in you, the beautiful stranger with ties to man that ruined his marriaged, Fortunately, light peeks out of the most inconvenient of circumstance. author note: still on hiatus but finally got this ok. sorry for teh wait sam my arch nemesis, thank you my darling wife @wongyuseokie for beta reading 💗

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic @seokgyuu

Unknown number: hi. you may not know me but my wife knows your husband and I think they’re having an affair.

You've stared at the message for hours on end and just about lost your mind with every letter of every word. You could practically recite it without a beat, the sound of glass shattering in the distance every time you’re met at the end.

You didn’t believe it at first—part of the reason being you don’t want to—but it would logically explain his recent changes. The late nights. The woman’s perfume. The infrequent time at home.

You feel numb.

Buried in a weighted blanket of deceit and betrayal, you wallow in the depths of your sheets until the words seep into the deepest dark abyss of your chest, squeezing your heart until it feels like it pops. A few more notifications followed the initial, going off at a nervous pace. The sender's agitation is abundantly clear.

You think to ignore it. You think to forget whatever you read and go about your married life as normal, but it gnaws at you. A violating parasite crawls around the wrinkles of your brain, biting, chewing, and consuming your perturbed consciousness. It leaks out of you in tears, sorrow, and a pervasive bodily ache.

Eventually, your hand finds your phone thrown to the ground and claims it in your vice grip before reading the incoming messages.

Unknown number: I read her messages

Unknown number: it’s been months it looks like

Unknown number: me and her have been married for less than a year

Unknown number: I won’t be too affected by this

Unknown number: I think

Unknown number: but are you ok?

No. No, you weren’t.

Unknown number: if it’s ok, I’d like you to meet with me. 

Unknown number: see the proof in person.

You know you'd be stupid to meet with a stranger you connected with through the phone. He could be a liar, murderer, stalker—you have no idea. However, if he's telling the honest truth, he'd be the only person right now who would understand your excruciating pain more than anyone else. He'd serve as proof that the life-sucking sensation coursing through your body is a sad reality, and facing that terrifies you.

However, reality manifests as a beautiful man. A beautiful man with a heart-shattering expression that makes you want to pick him up in the palms of your hands to tend to his invisible wounds.

You're perplexed. You weren’t sure if there was love that existed for you, but for him, love should’ve been guaranteed. He looks as if he deserves every star dedicated to him for every second he breathes. Every tear he shed. Every word he spoke. In another world, he’s someone’s muse, not someone’s victim of infidelity. Surely. Surely this was all some misunderstanding.

“Did you want that decaf?”

Your eyes flutter in his direction, registering the spoken words on his tongue. Sputter on your lips, you work the softness of your jaw in a gentle nod and swallow the words hitch down your throat. He splays a warm, but small smile, and gets up to head in the direction of the counter. His long, broad stature leans against the edge. His chest bellowing out of his diaphragm and out his lips, he softly mutters the drink orders to the cafe attendant.

Your eyes bat gently, observing him in slow motion, a coiling sensation in your gut. You exhale out of your nose in retreat, averting your gaze to your lap, jolting yourself out of the sudden fixation. You know you shouldn’t have been doing that. You have better self-control than that. Now was not the time for that.

His footsteps retreat toward you, and he settles your drink by your side of the table. Your eyes flit up at him, gaze descending as he modestly takes a seat across from you. His wide-toothed grin is polite but noticeably strained. "Thank you for meeting with me." His hands fiddle in his lap, visibly as disoriented as you are.

“I’m glad you texted me,” You respond cordially, “Those pictures were a hard pill to swallow…but I’m glad I saw them.”

He dryly chuckles, a solemn look of anguish etched on his face. "Yeah, I felt the same way."

Accepting the drink, you bring it against your lips. Despite being decaf, it proves as bitter as regular—an unexpected comfort, considering the usual presence of excess cream and sugar have felt overwhelming lately. The bitterness numbs your tongue, and you sense it traveling in a lump down your throat as you swallow.

"Sorry." His apology shakes you into clarity, his eyes quivering as they settle on you. "I'd seen photos of you—finding your husband, of course, because I didn't—um, okay. It's just strange to see you in front of me. Makes everything more..."

“Real,” You say, completing his sentence. “Yeah.”

His adam’s apple shifts in a nervous gulp. “How long were you together?”

“Five years. If you counted the last four,” you answer with a lingering chuckle. “I had an idea that’s what he was doing, but ideas are harmless until you’re true.”

“That’s—wow—impressive.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Don’t. Considering the circumstances, it’s nothing to be proud about. If I had known earlier I would’ve shoved those papers in his face a long time ago.”

“But you’re so…strong. How do you get like that? After five years?”

You shrug, shrinking under his charged gaze, glistening in a sheen of genuine admiration. “Practice. If you stayed a little longer, you’d learn it too.”

“I don’t think I could’ve survived that.” 

“Well, you contacted the spouse of the man sleeping with your wife. That’s pretty fucking strong.”

He’s bashful again, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids your eyes. All he can do is nod in response, not used to attention so warm and encouraging. So unlike Ami.

He discovers that you are far less deserving of betrayal than he had imagined. Your eloquent and poised conversations impress him, and the admirable lightness in your solemn tone adds to your appeal. From the moment he became aware of your existence, he felt compelled to meet you. While he initially rationalized it as a civic duty, there's an underlying motive that continues to fester in selfish desire, even when the topic of divorce is raised.

“Can we do this again?” he suggests timidly, hopeful you’ll agree. "Until the papers are final, at least. It’s kind of freeing talking about this with someone in the same shoes.”

Your lips softly curl up at the ends. “I’d like that.”

There's a substantial list of tasks to tackle before everything is finalized. You imagine how grueling it’d be to navigate through this by yourself and appreciate you weren’t alone on this. Recognizing that he's undergoing the same steps in grieving his failed union, it feels almost instinctive to join forces. Partners in divorce, each navigating the end of each of their own unhappy marriages. 

“Sorry, I just had to get something.”

You had come remarkably close, and the opportunity to accompany him home practically fell into your lap. Stepping into his space for the first time, you were immediately captivated by the photos adorning the walls, each one capturing her in a stunning, large white gown. In the enlarged picture on the wall, she radiates happiness, her joy undoubtedly amplified by standing next to Seokmin, who stands tall and sharp, his pride and happiness evident. As your eyes take in the scene, you find yourself amazed by the sheer elegance and warmth emanating from the photograph. A couple epitomizing love. So why—

“Found it,” he says, his fingers clutching the file between them. His gaze lands on your location, and as he registers the reason for your silence, he adds with a chuckle, “Oh, yeah. Ha-ha. That was really expensive.”

He approaches you with deliberate steps, both of you studying the wedding portrait together. "A thousand pictures, three hours editing, five hours of sifting through them, and a couple of grand later, this turned out to be the best one," he remarks. There's a hint of wry humor in his voice as he adds, "She jokes that it was the best thing to come out of this marriage. Now, I'm starting to wonder if it was a joke at all."

“Well, it’s so fucking amazing work. You look incredible.”

He acknowledges your sincerity. Naturally. It's a meticulously composed photo with thousand-dollar lighting, and makeup seamlessly blended into both of their skin. It was crafted to be admired, despite the evident imperfections concealed beneath the surface. Nonetheless, Seokmin's cheeks color at your commentary, a warmth palpable to the touch. "Thank you. Um, shall we?"

As you invest more time with him, the lingering question persists. Seokmin embodies perfection in every conceivable aspect, surpassing the qualities your husband ever possessed. The puzzle remains: Why? Why would his wife betray someone so genuinely kind and undeserving of such disloyalty? The enigma of her actions deepens with each passing moment spent in Seokmin's company.

Had you been in her shoes, you would grant him whatever he desires. The lengths you'd take to show your deep appreciation for him would extend endlessly, reaching far and lasting indefinitely. With complete faith, there wasn’t one damn rotten bone in his body, and he’s proven time and time he’s a sweetheart in and out. And although you were the one you were lucky enough to take his wife’s place, the least you could do is show him the courtesy of a friend. A friend who is cultivating feelings that start to transcend the simplicity of amicability.

“You know I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a home-cooked meal like this.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t feed my award-winning dish to just anyone.”

“It’s delicious. Like every bite filled with a mother’s hug. The best thing I ever put in my mouth.”

The way he says that tightens you in knots as you scrape off the remaining bit of your meal into the trash, letting the hot water from your faucet run down your plate. “A-an honor.”

You hear the scratch of his chair dragging on the floor as his padded feet approach you. “Let me help you with that.”

“You don’t need to—“

“You made dinner, let me in your humble abode, the least I can do as a guest.”

As your eyes follow the sequence of events, his long limbs gracefully extend over, prompting you to delicately set aside the dish with a self-assured smile. "You've done plenty. Let the host handle things."

He chuckles in disbelief. “Come on.”

“Stop it.” You giggle, splashing water at him.

He scoffs, splashing back. “You stop. Come on.”

“Seokmin!”

In a playful exchange, you engage in a subtle power struggle while fighting over the task. As he attempts to take control, you defy his dominance, completing the task before he can assert authority. Tension mounts as you press him against the counter, feeling the taut surface of his abdomen beneath your palm. A breathless moment ensues, and you slowly withdraw, leaving the air thick with anticipation.

You don’t notice the expression on Seokmin’s face when you unintentionally feel him up. The patter in his chest when it stroked down as you let go. The twitch in his pants when he notices your eyes are still glued to his body. He wishes he’d stop you from resisting, let you have him where you wanted. Move your body against him. 

But you're married, just like him. Albeit unhappily, but he must've confused trauma bonding for affection, lust, and longing. He wasn't actually falling for you; he's just lonely. Needy. Horny.

Seokmin just needs a good wank. A proper one with mood music and the lotion that smells like lavender or roses. All the romantic shit because that’s the type of guy he was. A romantic.

The challenge is doing it without your face popping in his head. 

For the longest time, he’d only thought of his wife. Although met through an arrangement via each other's parents, he thought he could love her, live with kids of their own, and live a happy life. For a moment he thought it was possible.

And then it came sex. Again and again, it would fail. And the smaller, the smaller he’d become. Like a shitty moldy piece of gum on the back of her shoe. Fuck it if she made him feel smaller than he should’ve. He knows he doesn't deserve it, and maybe it’s why your presence is so comforting. 

A breath of fresh air. A change of pace.

The attempt at forgetting your face with his hand around his cock becomes a failed one, spreading his failure all over his abdomen as he slumps in his chair. his nipples stand erect in the cool draft.

He feels the need to see you again, a necessary step in clearing his conscience.

“Seokmin!”

“Hey! Ready for apartment shopping?” 

“You bet. I just have one more thing to get in my bedroom. My wallet, it’s somewhere in there. Would you mind helping?”

“Oh yeah, sure. Uh…”

Entering the house, he allows the door to gently close, his footsteps echoing softly behind you. Observing the calm chaos of the room, he notices you tending to one side of your bedroom, and he contemplates, “In a drawer maybe?”

“Maybe? Just anywhere but—Wait, not there!”

He heeds your warning a second too late, pulling open a drawer revealing an array of toys too numerous to count—silicone, glass, plastic, and leather alike. The drawer houses an endless collection of items, all meticulously encased as if stored for display. One in particular catches his eye—a beautiful set of restraints that appear velvety soft to the touch. "Holy—"

Swiftly, you close the drawer, shielding its contents from prying eyes, and gently push him aside. “Hey! Don’t judge. He’s always been one buy these things, not like anything’s wrong with them. They were fun, at first at least.”

“I’m not judging, but backtrack. Ropes?”

Hesitancy singes the tip of your tongue. “He said silk ties slip off too easy to escape out of.” Your hand rests on your other wrist, reliving the memory somewhat fondly until it sinks down in your gut. “Rope leaves burns to remember how they felt. Like I said, they were fun. Until it became only what he wanted. Because it has always been what he wanted, and when I wouldn’t give it to him anymore, well…we all know how he handled that.”

“...Yeah I do.”

For the first time, a glimpse of sadness graces your expression in Seokmin’s presence, as if your relationship bears an unspoken sorrow. The furrow of your brows accentuates the subtle sighs and mild frown that follow. He yearns to soothe those features, wishing to impart a gentle reassurance, to convey it wasn't your fault if that was a concern. However, silence prevails as he observes you swiftly refocus on finding your missing item.

“Come on. Let’s keep looking.”

Complying with your request, Seokmin sifts through your belongings, eventually retrieving the misplaced wallet from beneath the bed. Announcing his discovery, you release a breath of relief and claim it back at your fingertips. He prizes the brief smile on your face before proceeding with the rest of today's plans.

The search for fortitude after it was all over went as well as expected, with most encounters with potential sellers assuming that you were looking for places with Seokmin, not just with Seokmin as each other's company. After the fifth apartment for sale, correcting them becomes less of an effort, and you find yourself momentarily forgetting that all of this is for your own distant, separate futures.

You arrive home, starved and parched from your scheming and Seokmin, ever the gentleman, playfully suggests that he takes charge of the evening’s dinner. You, as usual, politely resist, already taking the initiative a step before he could, following his lighthearted protests. Eventually, you compromise, allowing him the duty of gathering produce from the fridge and placing them on the kitchen island.

The absence of your spouse during these dinners has become a common occurrence, allowing his presence replaced by a string of repetitive excuses that you could only assume were to cover up his ongoing affair. It’d still leave a resonating ache in the pit of your stomach, but you’d be lying if you said the sensation hadn’t dulled since meeting Seokmin. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, you said it hurt.”

“What did?”

"The ropes—if that's okay to ask! I—" His cheek flushes into a furious red, and bashfully, the surface of his palm covers the lower half of his face. Chuckling anxiously to himself, a glimpse of regret becomes evident on his face. "You know what? Never mind."

“No, what? You can ask, it's ok.”

“It’s just. I’m just a little curious.”

“Yes?”

“Being tied down for you was…arousing?”

You softly giggle, “For a bit it did. That’s when I still had a bit of input.”

“When did that stop?”

“Maybe when he got frustrated. I became less willing to do it. I wanted to try other things and he wouldn’t budge either.”

“...Like what?”

“He was always the one in control,” You shrug, “Wanted to try it out for once. He felt insulted.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know right.” You shake your head. “He was different since. And so was sex. The little we had anyway.”

“...Ami said I was a pussy.”

You pause in your movement, turning your head towards him, observing as his head drops past his shoulders.

“She said I wasn’t a real man. ‘Out of all the men I was arranged to marry, why was it the most pathetic one?’”

You meet eyes, recognizing quiet sorrow in them. “That’s not true.”

“It is. I could be stronger, I could be manlier.”

“You’re very manly, Seokmin,” you reassure.

“Really?”

“Of course you are.”

“...Even if I wondering what it’s like to have those ropes to tie me down? Am I still manly then?”

A surprised and nervous tone colors your words as you feel a response catch in your throat. "Are you serious?"

“Gravely,” he says without thinking. "But, you know, it's just a random thought—"

“Would you like to experience it for yourself?”

“Are you serious?”

“Gravely,” you imitate, grinning.

He gives a tentative nod, the blush now unhidden by his hands. "Okay."

Guiding him back to your bedroom, the soft glow of the lamp casts a warm ambiance. You open the drawer he inadvertently discovered earlier today, its contents revealing an array of intriguing items. With deliberate care, you extract the rope from its designated spot, feeling its smooth texture under your fingertips. The room holds a hushed anticipation as you methodically untangle the rope, each loop a dance of shadows and highlights. You observe Seokmin's gaze, noting the subtle shifts in his expression as he follows the intricate journey of each strand unfurling in the dim light.

A subtle fire charges the air, palpable in the way his breath catches and his eyes widen. There's a flicker of uncertainty in his expression, a nervous anticipation that surfaces as he watches the rope unfold. The gravity of the situation settles in, and you can sense his apprehension growing with each meticulous loop you release. It's as if the sight of the rope carries an unspoken weight, stirring a mixture of curiosity and anxiety in him.

“You look nervous.”

He takes a pronounced swallow, hand coming around his other wrist. “You’ve never done this before, right?”

“I've seen it enough times to mimic it.” You walk towards him cautiously, the subtle rustle of the rope in your hands. "Do you trust me?"

Hesitantly, he nods.

Obediently, he pins his wrists to one another, your fingertips coming around to loop around either one. As you secure the knot, you notice the subtle tension in his shoulders, curiosity playing across his features. The room is filled with a quiet intensity, broken only by the hushed sound of your movements.

"How’s that feel?" You ask, adjusting the knot.

"Kind of tight?"

"Oh, sorry–"

"No, don’t be. It’s interesting," He replies, fingers exploring the texture of the material.

"Interesting, like it feels good?"

"I think so, but…"

"But?"

He hesitated, her gaze shifting toward the window. "How different is it tied to something? Like a bed frame?"

“Pretty different. You have a bit of control with just your wrists tied. When it’s against something…like a bed frame…there’s none of it. You’re kind of helpless.”

“Helpless,” he echoes breathlessly.

“Is that something you want to try too?”

Silently, he nods, his eyes flickering with anticipation. As you start to untangle the ropes, you internally count your breaths, and then lead him to the bed. Your knee sinks into the soft cushion of the mattress, sensing Seokmin's deliberate movement as he gradually takes over the center. His eyes, wide and lucid, silently observe your actions. A concentrated, half-lidded scrutiny follows as you maneuver between his legs, your heart pounding in your chest. With determination, you reach for one wrist, swiftly pinning it to one corner.

As the rope winds its way around his wrist, a subtle shiver courses through him, betraying the nerves that have taken residence beneath his skin. His hands, once steady, now exhibit a discernible tremor, a physical manifestation of the anxious anticipation that tightens every muscle. Then it comes to his second wrist. Each loop seems to tighten the grip of uncertainty, and you can almost hear the accelerated beat of his heart as the binding becomes more tangible. The quiet room amplifies the rustle of the rope, echoing the unease that dances in his eyes, creating a palpable tension that hangs in the air. 

His eyes flutter at the pace of his heart, swallowing tension built in his throat, and a shallow breath escapes him. You limply part from your work, reluctant to meet his eyes, as yours bat erratically. Your lips part to speak, but all that escapes is a breathless awe, hardly forming an unsteady “T-there.”

You find yourself unable to avert your gaze, observing as he grapples with the situation. The sight of his struggle seems to compound his embarrassment, evident in his feeble attempts to break free—though it becomes apparent that success is an elusive feat, even with earnest effort.

The memory of your first time is what initially pops into your mind. You remember how anxious you felt–feeling your heart race even between your legs as if it were possible–yet elated to do something so different, and then the pleasure. The sensation of feeling everything at once. Sweat pilled on your skin humiliatingly, only your cries used to fight back. You haven’t thought positively about that experience until now, seeing it reflected onto Seokmin.

“They are really hard to get out of actually,” he chuckles defeatedly, but not so much so that doesn’t find himself enjoying the circumstance.

A nervous hum leaves your nose as you exhale, clenching the arousal between your legs cautiously. “Good now you know. So I guess—”

“I’m really helpless like this…can’t even get out of these on my own.” You perceive the audible constriction in his throat, a subtle indication that becomes evident as he articulates his words. Although unsteady, he isn’t scared. Something else flickers in his vision. Something that almost scares you.

Ultimately, you quietly acknowledge him with a mumble, reaching over to one side to undo your knots, but he stops you with a single word. With your hands trembling, your focus intensifies on the intricate task of trying to loosen the binds that restrain him. Your gaze remains fixed on the knots, avoiding direct eye contact, as the palpable tension in the room mirrors the shackles you’ve put yourselves in: his being physical, while yours are mental.

“Yeah,” you breathe out.

“You look at me differently now don’t you?”

You shake your head apprehensively, your grip tightening around the ropes, half-expecting them to bind you physically, yet realizing it's the thoughts swirling in your mind that truly threaten to restrain you. “Why do you say that?”

There’s a soft scoff that makes its way to your ears, registering his disbelief. “You can’t even meet my eyes…are you embarrassed?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t you look at me?” He asks poignantly.

“I’ve never been in this out position before.”

“In control?”

You take a moment to yourself to breathe, dropping your head, still gripping around the rope lethally. “Seokmin.”

“Look at me,” there’s a hint of a smile in his voice. “I’d feel less shameful if you do… what are you thinking?”

You raise your head and meet his eyes, a blend of vulnerability and determination flickering in your gaze. A myriad of words that could have been spoken in response swirl within you, yet each one remains submerged, reluctant to surface and make its presence known. The weight of unspoken sentiments lingers heavily, creating a palpable silence between you.

In the quiet intensity of the moment, his fingertips hand in the charges air, sifting to move between your digits and lock them together. The unspoken tension between you both transforms into something tangible, hanging in the air like a delicate thread, on the verge of snapping. As your eyes linger on one another, a mutual message is exchanged, and without a word, the distance closes. 

The kiss is gentle at first, before the heat of his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, softly pulling it towards him. Your lip lock only intensifies as your body presses against his, responding to the desperation that has woven its way through the conversation. The room, once filled with fervency, now holds the soft symphony of a connection finding its place.

As the moment stretches, you muster the strength to finally pull away, cognizant that the power to do so rests solely with you. A gentle reluctance permeates the atmosphere, tinting it with a subdued pink rather than the earlier flickering intensity of red, as you gradually draw back.

Your gazes linger for a fleeting moment, exchanging unspoken promises and silently acknowledging the connection that perhaps shouldn't have been forged. The room retains the echo of the shared intensity, leaving both of you contemplating the significance of what had just transpired.

You release yourself from his touch, the sensation lingering on your skin as your mind wanders, assessing the unfolding actions and the potential consequences. However, despite your attempt at detachment, his words persistently weave through the corridors of your thoughts, rendering any escape from their influence seemingly impossible. “You like being in control?”

You eventually nod.

“Act like it.”

“How?” You question, eyes searching for guidance.

“However you want?” 

You seize a fleeting moment, the world around you momentarily suspended, as you deliberate, attempting to release the grip of your inhibitions. The soft murmur of your surroundings becomes a distant echo, drowned out by the internal dialogue that unfolds as you grapple with the decision to unshackle yourself from the mental constraints that have held you captive. It's someone else's job now, not yours. After a thoughtful pause, you finally exhale, uttering a simple but profound, "Okay."

You press yourself against him, your knees locking him at his waist. “Just don’t go whining about it. Or do.” Your hand glides over his restrained wrist, fingering over the vein revealed from his uncuffed sleeve dropping to his forearm, as your other hand claims his face. Initially soft and cool, your touch carries an understated gentleness. Yet, beneath its surface lies a latent warmth that simmers on the skin, gradually intensifying like a path of hellfire. A burgeoning confidence unfolds in you like a delicate bud blossoming into a vibrant bloom. It unfolds gradually but with a definite determination, poised to flourish. “There’s not much else you can do anyway. Isn’t that how you like it?”

"Yes," he confesses, his lungs momentarily devoid of air, the admission hanging in the space like a weighty secret reluctantly released.

The corners of your lips gracefully curl upwards, imparting a subtle but undeniable sense of amusement or satisfaction. “To answer your question earlier, being tied down does still make you manly.” Your hand runs down the length of his arm, settling against the structure of his collarbone, closing the distance between your lips and his honey-glazed skin. "I believe the epitome of true masculinity is found in the act of surrender. It's about willingly placing oneself in a position of trust, embracing vulnerability with unwavering courage."

"Really," he challenges, doubt injecting a sharp edge into his words. "You think that highly of me? Even though you’re the one that can do whatever you want with me?”

“I do.”

You pull apart from him, distancing your bodies and sinking into the bed once you find its edge. You bat your eyes back at him slowly as your hand lands on the top of your chest, releasing a slow and steady breath. “It is simply your form of expression, and in return, I’ll show you mine.”

You fiddle with your buttons, exposing skin bit by bit. Your chest heaves and your legs shift to raise your upper body, anchored by your calves and ankles. Your blouse drops down your shoulders to leave your body, and your cladded breasts are what Seokmin gravitates to first.

Seokmin’s eyes ventured from your lines, the curves once hidden underneath the barrier of your clothes, now in plain sight like art mounted for display. He processes the fullness of your thighs as they drop against your hind legs, and he doesn’t hear the whimper that makes it past his contorted lips.

Hands gripping the sheets, you crawl in prowess towards him wide-eyed until you’re between his legs once again. “Nervous?”

He takes a gulp, his voice tight. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good.” Your fingers move similarly to before, now with your pants which have clung to your body since you’ve worn them. 

Seokmin doesn’t for a moment think of a thing as the fabric pulls over your thighs, skin revealing like the first appearance of colored television, nothing short of a visual marvel. He feels gutted, grappling with his restraints. As the sight of you draws near, the longing for your touch bolsters, and an undeniable compulsion surges within him. He barely manages to make out your name in timid haste.

“I’m curious what is like for you to touch my body. How’d you stroke my skin, or caress my legs,” You softly tease, pleased to see the effect you’ve made as he visibly clenched his abdomen. “but I wonder more what it's like for you unable to do a thing as I undress myself.”

"Devastating, truly," he remarks with a chuckle, the irony hanging heavier in the air than any spoken words could convey. “I never thought I’d despise being on the receiving end of a strip tease. Emphasis on tease.”

The pants hit the floor as you shrug them off, “Well, that’s the point of tying you up. You wondered what it was like.” You grinned impishly, “Can’t say you’re disappointed because you didn’t get what you wanted”

“Well, I wouldn’t. Though, I’d appreciate it if—“ Your itching hand grazes the top of his dress shirt, finding the top button and delicately allowing it to come apart. “—if. Ahem. Uh…”

“Yes?”

“I, uh…” he never does finish that sentence, too preoccupied with every button displaced, slowly revealing the tension of his bare torso. He shivers as a brisk draft ripples through his body, his shirt with its open flaps curtaining his taut body, flexing in suspense. “I lost my train of thought…”

You softly chortle as the tip of your nail travels down his concave valleys in interest. “I bet you did.”

Inescapably, you find yourself drawing closer with only a whisper of space between the two of you. Unseen, the sound of Seokmin’s belt unravels, and his eyes widen in shock—catching him off guard. You watch him hauntingly while your hands admire him in a way he’s never even dreamt of. 

You roll his erect nipples between your fingers. “Does it excite you? To get doted on? All the attention on you?”

He whimpers quietly, a sigh weakly following. “Yes.”

Your smile lifts up from one end, parting your lips curiously as you tighten your fingers. He winces with short bursts of gasps following and his legs writhe in place while his eyes gloss over in teary awe. “Like when I compliment you? Or when I’m teasing your pretty little parts?”

“Yes. Both.” You wrapped your lips on his bud, the front of your teeth grazing his sensitive skin, and you sucked in your breath. He emits the lightest, airiest of sighs and dips his lower torso into the bed. The rope's friction bit into his skin, undoubtedly causing a burning sensation, only further enticing him.

You softly scoff, leveling your face with him. Your hand glides soothingly over his cheek, cooled by sweat pilling on his forehead, now your inadvertent warmth contrasting against him. “I'm honestly surprised by you, Seokmin. If you wanted me to tie you up, you should’ve just said so. I’d easily comply.”

He nuzzles against your touch, the tip of his nose tracing the crevice of your palm. “I’m sorry.” 

You offer him a gentle, welcoming smile. “Don’t be. You’re under my care now.”

“…Am I?”

“Well, are you?”

He moans your name again, longing your hands against his body as you only caress his skin without so much an inkling of moving lower. “Please, that's all I want.”

“What is it you want then?” You grab his chin between your thumb and index. “Tell me everything.”

“Whatever you want to do with me.”

“And if I wanted to just play all evening?” You tested.

He nods back determined. “I’d let you.” 

“If I’d sit on your face?”

His breath cuts off in his throat, losing sanity over the potential of your arousal drowning him in bliss. “I’d make sure I’m a proper seat.”

“If I don’t let you cum?”

He clenches his fists, exhaling as you meet your knee with his crotch, where a tent pitched itself right in his trousers. It moves anxiously, already submerging himself in the power of your words. “I’d wait my turn. No matter how long it takes.”

“…And if I want to milk you dry.”

“I’d give you my lifeline…I’m yours.”

In that fleeting moment, the rest of the world dissolves into insignificance. You find yourself yielding to the warmth of his gaze, entranced by the cadence of his language and the resonance of his tone. Finally, you did just what was inevitable. 

As Seokmin is bare down to his skin, your hand travels down to the base of his shaft and glides up delicately to his tip. Your lips pressed generously against his collarbone, nipping at his smooth and flustered skin. Your thumb strokes over his veins, grip squeezing his girth, and inadvertently he whines out of his control.

“You’re teasing me…”

“Is that not what you wanted?” Your lips gradually trail down his chest, lowering to hover right over his length that stands mere inches away from your face. “Or are you wanting something more?”

“Of course, I want what you want. I’m s-sorry…”

The tip of his cock kisses against your lips and twitches upon contact. You feign innocence in his gaze and purse your lips. “I can’t help but think, you want me to wrap my lips around your cock. Stuff down my throat. Spill your hot cum inside me.”

“Please,” he moans.

You slot him between your lips and suck on his sensitivity. You hum his name, every syllable vibrating around his skin. He groans observing you, nearly thrusting into your mouth before you decide to slam down his thighs. “Mmh-Mhh, you know better than to do that.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeatedly mumbles, “You’re just so pretty there.”

“Though that may be, you chose to trust me, and now I need to trust you. Behave.”

He swallows apprehensively. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll apprehend you if you don't. I have more than one set of ropes.”

Seokmin’s heart slightly twitches at that, but he decides to obey for now, hoping there’s another opportunity another day. He wouldn’t want to test his limits.

His cock has made its way between your lips once again, exploring deeper until you meet halfway down his length. With your free hand, you tend to his remaining size, feeling it pulse in your touch. His groans become the background music for his symphony of arousal, while the sensation of your hallowed cheeks tug against him.

You allow him to plunge deeper, wide eyes peering at him for his reaction, and you feel the impulsive thrust of his hips again. Only this time, you let him. You feel every inch consume you, lodged far down your airways, traveling at a needy–even desperate–pace. You shut your eyes, feeling your tears burn your skin. Ultimately, you pull out before he gets close, registering his pink cheeks and bite-swollen lips after regaining your sight. You cough away from him, catching your breath and the apology leaving Seokmin’s lips once again.

“I’m so sorry! Fuck! I–”

“I said I’d apprehend you, didn't I?”

You make good on your promise and another pair of ropes makes an appearance, pinning him at either corners of the bed and splaying him like a starfish, rendering him completely defenseless. 

He deserves this, he thought, unable to resist the inexplicable thrill that coursed through him. He’d struggle against the rope had it not been for the remainder of your strip show. The slow slip of your bra strap, the release of your clasp, baring you raw in your gorgeous glory. If he had his fists, he’d be biting them. Hell, if he had any control of his limbs, he’d worship you on the very floor you walk on, crushed under you the ball of your feet, and using his hands for your pleasure and your pleasure only.

Perhaps that’s why he could not help but be more aroused like a teenager discovering porn for the first time. That was the beauty of it. It was something Ami never understood. She wanted him to do it all: be the dominant partner all the time, be a one-and-done fucking machine. You are willing to explore things, even with him, and you didng make him feel small about it. He can’t help but feel eternally grateful it's with him.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he had already fallen for you the moment his eyes laid on your photos. He couldn’t believe the sight you were nor the fact that you were on the receiving end of this distress. He knew he had to meet you. He just hadn’t factor in what it’d do to him when it happens.

Even as your legs border either of his side, he’s in disbelief. Your pretty cunt stares back at him in want, aching for his presence just as he aches to explore you. He can feel the drool make it past the corner of his lips as your heat radiates off you, just before letting his raw length part your walls.

A hearty moan escapes you, and all Seokmin can think of how sweet it sounds in company with the moisture of your arousal. Your knees dig into the mattress as you adjust to his size, hips naturally grinding against him before he fully is plunged inside. Drinking in his groans, you slightly fall forward and find your grip on the bedframe, not realizing how easy it is to claim Seokmin’s hands.

A smile tugs at your lips as you delicately weave your fingers through his. You rest your forehead against his, softly cooing back at him. “You’re being so good for me.”

“Anything for you," he responds, his voice filled with a tender, intimate sincerity.

“Mmh, Seokmin...”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Would you like the control of your hands again?”

His eyes flicker back at you, seeing the certainty in your eyes, before hesitatingly nodding. Carefully, you release him, gently soothing the red marks on either wrist. Pleadingly, he asks for your permission to touch you, and easily you oblige, taking his hands. You guide him where he may touch, letting them stroke up your sides. You softly sigh as you let him regain his power, letting it surge through him as he replenishes feeling in his arms.

He balls your flesh in fists, pushing deeper inside you as his tongue grows more possessive. You clench around him, hands accessing his body like free real estate, playing with all the amenities. “Are you that happy? Touching me like I’m yours?”

He throws his head back, assessing his grip on you to pull you forward, giving you a long awaited liplock. He rediscovers your plush tongue, retracing its pattern as he pushes you closer against him to the best of his abilities with his contradicted ankles. He claims you from your lower back, rolling his hips against you, as your furnace-hot body intoxicates him like a drug. “I’m elated. You make me so happy. You have no idea.”

Your exuberant sounds fold over one another, building the tension off your bodies until you’ve reach their highest form. Seokmin was the first to express it. Even before he mumbles how close he is, he’s embracing you tighter as his hot breath fans down your flustered body. To that, you say the first response that comes to mind. “Cum in me.”

“W-without a—“

You tense tighter around him, legs clutching around him desperately. “Cum inside me, Seokmin.”

You get what you want in the end. The streams of white warmth painting your inside are perfection. Like bursts of ribbons in a festive air, he releases a lingering sense of ecstasy. Falling against his chest, you count his pants by the heave of his chest, drifting off from fatigue. 

With the bit of energy you had left, you undo Seokmin’s knots, and rest comes easy, no matter how early into the night it still is. 

You don’t remember the last time you were held like this. You don’t know if you were held ever like this. His eyes, though weary, radiate a smile that mirrors the gentle curve of his lips. A hand slides behind your head, fingers gently stroking, and his soft sighs become a melodic comfort, conveying solace without the need for words. In his presence, a profound sense of peace envelops you, creating a reluctance to part from this moment of tranquility.

Dinner, once a fleeting moment before the spontaneous decision of sex, turns into a midnight meal, a meal draped in each other comfort. Seokmin effortlessly slips into your comforting pair of sweatpants, while you envelop yourself in his once-abandoned dress shirt, a tangible reminder of the intimacy shared. Together, you concoct a pot of instant ramen, opting for the simplicity of a quick meal rather than the meticulousness of a dish crafted from scratch.

“That smells delicious,” he compliments.

“Sorry, it couldn’t be better.”

His hands find a secure hold on your body, his head gently resting over your shoulder. "It's no bother at all. Plus, you've already worked up quite an appetite."

His kisses, soft against your temple, coincide with the casual embrace of his arms around your waist. Your curves seamlessly mold into the contours of his body, like two pieces naturally falling into place, creating a comforting bond between your bodies.

“Stil, you deserve better than ramen.”

“It’s Shin ramen. It's the best of its kind. I’m more than honored.”

“You’re silly…I like that.”

“Good. I like you. I’m glad that I got to meet you.” His words are accompanied by a gentle squeeze of your hand.

You grin. “Me too…but we can’t do that again.”

“Oh, well why not?”

"Well, for now." You playfully tap his nose with a chopstick. "Let's wait until everything is done. Until we’re both free again.”

He sighs, dejected at your request. “You’re right, but…”

He effortlessly lifts you from the ground and you drop your utensils on the ground. Abruptly, he settles you onto the kitchen counter. The coolness from the marble is chilling as the surface provides a sudden, invigorating contrast to your warm skin. Startled, your eyes flutter back at him, steadying yourself with hands resting on his shoulders. You succumb to the warmth in his eyes, a honeyed allure that wraps you in the comforting embrace of his touch.

“How do you expect me to live on without you in my arms? I’ll never know peace like it.” Seokmin's voice carries a warmth that wraps around you like a blanket, one that is not weighted with darkness and anxiety, but instead laden with love and good faith.

You respond by pulling him into a tight embrace, legs playfully anchoring around his torso. A smile graces your lips as you enjoy the closeness. “A test of faith. Then we can truly enjoy each other's company.”

“I’ll be counting the days then,” he says with a smile

You persist in meeting Seokmin, navigating the divorce process until you're on the verge of its completion. Ironically, amidst the dissolution's purpose, you sense the blossoming of a new connection amid the ruins of another.

“You didn’t have to take me home. You know how risky it is.”

He sighs, squeezing your hand in his, dreading the moment you have to leave. He has grown accustomed to your presence, and every night without you feels like a painful void in his heart, as he awaits the arrival of the following morning. "I can't wait until this is all over."

“Me too. I’ll see you tomorrow, and the day after and the day after—“

“Lord knows how we get any work done,” he giggles.

"I know, right." You let the moment linger a second longer before sharing a final embrace, stealing a kiss on his cheek as you slip away from his grasp. Through the tinted windows, you smile, aware of the blush you've ignited on his face.

Arriving home, the joy is dampened by the sight of familiar shoes. Suppressing your unease, you greet your husband with a forced smile, avoiding eye contact. "Mingyu? Honey? Is that you? No overtime tonight?

You're met with a stern expression and a decisive declaration. Devoid of warmth, he slams a stack of papers onto the kitchen counter–documents that have become all too familiar over these past few weeks.

“I want a divorce.”

#svthub #seokmin angst #seokmin smut #dokyeom smut #dokyeom angst #seventeen smut #lee seokmin #lee dokyeom #seventeen #seokmin #dokyeom #dk angst #dk smut #seventeen angst #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seokmin x reader #seokmin x you #svt x reader #svt x you #svt x y/n #seventeen dk #seventeen dokyeom #seventeen lee seokmin

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Faye Dunaway (Bonnie and Clyde, The Thomas Crown Affair)—iconic diva, incredibly beautiful and made a name for herself immediately

Lauren Bacall (To Have and Have Not, The Big Sleep, Key Largo)—"Just put your lips together...and blow" excuse me ma'am i'm briefly going to turn into a kettle. She's the quintessential Femme Fatale who may betray me in the end but I'd let her it'd be worth it

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Faye Dunaway:

"Watch Bonnie & Clyde"

"I know she is more known for her later works, but she did a few good films in the 60's and she's VERY hot so..."

Lauren Bacall:

"She is soooo neat. And hot. And everything. That one scene in To Have and Have Not where she says "you know how to whistle don't you? You just put your lips together and blow" altered my brain chemistry during media archaeology class and here we are."

"The VOICE, the SLINK, the EYES. Woof."

"Lauren Bacall was a major lesbian awakening for me. Every picture of her makes it look like she’s about to destroy you physically and emotionally (why is that so hot, I may need help). She had incredible long running chemistry with her husband, Humphrey Bogart, but was an absolute star in her own right. I’ll never be over my crush on her."

"She's got that confident, no-nonsense air about her. She's a boss babe who knows what she wants and gets it DONE. Staunch liberal Democrat her whole life. Campaigned for RFK. From Wikipedia: "In a 2005 interview with Larry King, Bacall described herself as "anti-Republican... A liberal. The L-word". She added that "being a liberal is the best thing on Earth you can be. You are welcoming to everyone when you're a liberal. You do not have a small mind."" Beautiful hair. Beautiful eyes. Beautiful lips. She's just beauty. LISTEN TO HER VOICE. TELL ME THAT'S NOT THE STUFF THAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF."

"HER VOICE. Like yeah, she was absolutely stunning but oh my god, I'm obsessed with her voice"

"A gorgeous lady inside and out. One half of an absolute power couple with Humphrey Bogart, tended to him and other actors suffering from malaria whilst filming the African Queen, generally radiated grace and poise throughout her life. Also her last role was in Family Guy so she needs justice for that"

"She was stunning. Tall and beautiful with a distinctive voice and able to carry her own in a male dominated field. She won the heart of millions, including one of Hollywood's most iconic leading men, Humphrey Bogart. Their story was the stuff of legends, and the chemistry between them was apparent in the multiple films they started in together. She personified the film noir dame and yet she also adapted as Hollywood changed. Her career spanned decades, and she was honored multiple times."

#lauren bacall #faye dunaway #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3 #Youtube

[adrianasunderworld]

I'd like to add on to all the telenovella drama, what if Lilith and the late Mrs. Schoenheit were close friends? Could you imagine her reaction to what Erik's done, especially if you throw in the papa crewel au?? She's not against him finding love again, in fact she's certain Mrs. Schoenheit would want her husband to find love again, but pursuing a woman who he knows has hurt both of their respective children and Lilith's darling grandchild? Now that won't fly, and she is making it known how disgusted she is, Lilith is going to drag that man through HELL for his decision.

I can see her stirring the pot a bit as well. After all, the Crewels and the Rosehearts are infamous in the Rose Kingdom, and with Lilith being a high class socialite whose child and now grandchild work at/attend NRC respectively, why wouldn't she know about what's happening? She has inside sources after all.

I just really wanna see grandma Lilith go off in this au, it's deserved.

Believe it not I've actually been thinking about this the past few days while my ask box was closed. Because Lilith knows of Vil, there's no way she doesn't. One day, maybe before the events of the au take place, Lilith visits and sees Vil and has some friendly conversation. "My look how big you've gotten! Your mother would be so proud."

"You knew my mother ma'am?"

"Oh I knew her for years and we worked together very often. She was so talented, witty, and it goes without saying beautiful. There a was a bright light that went out before her time... But let's not dwell on that, dear. How have you been?"

When Divus attended NRC, there was not a piece of school gossip or news she did not know about. Students would tell their moms,aunts,grandmas, etc what was going on and it would all circle back to Lilith. Now that Divus worked in the school and she has a grandchild there now? Bet your ass she's at it again. Then all of a sudden communication ceases. Not just for her, but for everyone she knows who has a son at NRC. Suddenly Lilith Crewel doesn't know, and she does not like that one bit. She's ringing Divus phone off the hook trying to get info of what's going on only to get the news his new boss has a ton of strict rules and regulations that is making it very difficult. And if this is the version where Crewel gets fired? Now she has dead silence from Yuu, and Lilith is livid.

At some point, something bad is going to happen involving Yuu and Lilith is going to go down to the Isles of Sages herself and rip someone's head off. Because as we've establish, Lilith takes everything over when something goes. She want's things done right, and thus she will do it herself. "Divus you take care of Yuu. I will take of this."

"Mother for once can you-"

"What did I just say?" He knows there's no talking her down at this point.

She's going to see Erik in Felicitys office with the trio, Riddle, Vil, and Yuu. Suddenly it all clicks.

"Well. It seems the rumors were true."

"Spare me any of your judgmental notions," Felicity replied. "I have no intrest."

"Oh I know you have no interest, and far be it for me to talk about marital affairs. But you," She pointed a finger at Erik, her red eyes burning a hole in him. "I expected better of you, Erik."

"What's that supposed to mean, Madame Crewel?" Though he had an idea. Remembering her friendship with Vils mother.

"You have turned a blind eye to not only your son, but to hundred of other peoples sons. Is your son just an ATM is that it? Is that why you won't intervene when he's suffering?"

"How dare-"

"I can dare all I want." She didn't allow him to finish. "If that's not the case then tell me. And don't give me some hearted 'because love' answer, because then you're just wasting my time. The fact of the matter is: You are a selfish selfish man, Erik Venue. And your wife would be so ashamed of you."

#twisted wonderland #twst yuu #twst oc #papa crewel #divus crewel #headmistress rosehearts au #lilith crewel

[life-and-death-companions]

some (possibly) unpopular opinions

i don't like any of these and you're going to hear me explain why 💀💀

There's a part two to this, if anyone's interested.

Lady Baby

Sincerely: I Became a Duke’s Maid

Remarried Empress

When the Villainess Loves

Lady to Queen

Today the Villainess Has Fun Again

Finding Camellia

There Were Times When I Wished You Were Dead

The Duchess of the Glass Greenhouse

1. Lady Baby

this story felt like a fever dream, except the fever never fucking breaks because the pacing is so slow i could sucker punch Flash in the face and he'd still be roiling back from the recoil in the length of time it takes for her to just fucking AGE already. I know she's cute and the art is amazing but there comes a point where it's too much and you start to forget how old she really is. reincarnation or regression or whatever works because the mc can make decisions they hadn't before, and drive the plot quickly in a chosen direction.

where was she driving the plot? well, it was certainly Somewhere. perhaps in five years, give or take, we'll know exactly where.

Sincerely: I Became a Duke’s Maid

miss ma'am raised her husband. i refuse to elaborate on this any further. all i can say is i dropped it 5 chapters in and i think it saved me a great deal of mental strife. i thank past me every day for taking the steps to ensure this doesn't get recorded in my brain as a memory more than it already has.

Remarried Empress

no, i did not read the novel. however, i do know that the issues i have with it cannot be resolved even with supplementary information from the novel.

this story is about an empress, born and raised in aristocracy, flawless and perfect in every way, kind and wise to her subjects, divorcing her scumbag husband and finding a better man to become happy. now, i love navier. she's wise, knowledgeable, cool, charismatic, collected.

but she has no flaws. her second spouse is a rich sexy guy that falls at her feet to please her. the duke of another country pines after her, joining her sad lump of an ex-husband sovieshu in abject misery. she's got a parade of equally hot, rich, influential girlfriends to support her.

every character is there to serve navier and make her look good and in comparison, rashta has nothing but her looks, her ambition, her fucking audacity, and --truth be said-- her raging delusion. ironically, in the process of making her the biggest object of hatred, they also made her into the most complex, developed and interesting character in the whole story.

this had the potential of being something great. navier and sovieshu and royalty and politics paint a picture of these empires and kingdoms as full of prosperity and wealth --and yet slavery still exists. a truly amazing novel could've shown a partnership between rashta the slave, who has nothing, and navier the empress, who has everything, and their efforts to reduce social and economic disparities in the land. this shared, difficult goal would have immediately made every character more realistic.

AND the real villain in the story is sovieshu. i'm tired of the relentless, OVERWHELMINGLY more abundant commentary about 'trashta' this and 'trashta' that.

tl;dr: the story accomplishes what it sets out to do. but for this kind of simple, shallow storytelling, surely 100 chaps are enough to wrap it up???? like????

thank you next

When the Villainess Loves

i don't know how artists get contracted to work on a novel but this artist should have looked at the script and backed away pronto. everyone complains about this one. the majority of us prefer the second male lead with Libertia, which is already a failure in any romance story.

An overwhelming number of readers, me included, would much rather have OG Libertia, thank you. at least she'd have the sense to reject a man as shady as this daniel rando. he LITERALLY started involving himself in her affairs out of nowhere --and then he WOULD NOT leave, like??? go get a job or something? do you have any hobbies or friends or what?

Lady to Queen

a good angsty story has periods of calm and relief and humour that gives the main character something to live for and some hope for improving her life in the future. otherwise, i'm sorry, but it's just tragedy and tragedies are hardly ever written well. they rely on pacing that episodes updated every like two to three weeks just cannot provide. bonus points for the sisterly bond though, and how well the villain was written. i wouldn't have minded if the sister decided to push rosa-whatever down a long flight or stairs 👀

tl;dr: probably not for everyone. i enjoyed some aspects. probably better to read the whole story in one or two sittings.

Today the Villainess Has Fun Again

a typical misunderstood villainess isekai with a ton of money and influence does not make it bad. on the contrary, i was quite enjoying it, until that leopard boy inserted himself into the story with all the grace and elegance of a fucking rock. his personality pissed me off. his interdependence on her pissed me off. the physical age difference made me uncomfortable. the romance was forced.

tl;dr: no thank you

Finding Camellia

hi everyone and welcome to andrew tate's podcast, romance manhwa version. here you will find:

"InTeReStInG," said Male Lead 1 smirking smirkingly, coolly looking at the back of the Female Lead. he brushes his hair back with a careless hand, loosening his cravat in the other. he exudes an undeniable Aura of Alphaness.

"Don't talk nonsense," said Male Lead 1, obviously wanting to demonstrate his Superior Knowledge of our FL's habits and character (ps. it's been 2 weeks since they met again). "She doesn't want actual food for dinner, send her lollies instead."

"You infuriate me," said Male Lead 1, backing a vulnerable woman who had just been sexually harassed into the shadowy alcove of a deserted library. "I find you painfully attractive and it's obviously your fault, so stop."

"InTeReStIng," said Obligatory Male Love Interest #2, his overlong fringe falling over his eyes. Readers have to question whether he can see the FL's infamous beauty through the fucking keratin worms growing from his scalp down to his nose bridge.

Alpha Fight: Prince vs Duke of a Rivalling Kingdom. I know we have a monarchy here but status apparently doesn't matter --except when it does, to demonstrate their power and affluence to random people. If you're confused, good. so was i.

There Were Times When I Wished You Were Dead

to the ml:

fuck you

that is it.

The Duchess of the Glass Greenhouse

why has it become a manhwa trend for FLs to be treated horribly by everyone around them including their husbands and then they time travel or something and END UP WITH THE SAME FUCKING DUDE??? YOU ARE IN A MADE UP WORLD. FIND A BETTER GUY. GOD KNOWS THERE'S AN ABUNDANCE OF LOVE INTERESTS IN MANHWAS LIKE THESE.

#the duchess of the glass greenhouse #finding camellia #wished you were dead #today the villainess has fun again #when the villainess loves #sincerely: i became a duke's maid #remarried empress #lady baby #manhwa #you could point a bazooka at my face and tell me to read these all again and i'd tell you to blast my brains away. maybe then i can forget

[katedrakeohd]

A Very Merry Birthday (6)

[Masterlist]

Rated: Mature 18+

(3 🍋s on fire, because we're talking threesome here.)

Characters involved: (TRH)Drake & Kate Walker, Preston Davis the bodyguard.

Content warning: Sexual situations (dubcon, masturbation, threesome), swearing, angst, fluff.

Word count: 6000+ (buckle up, get your popcorn and prefered beverage ready)

Prompts included: From Wacky Drabbles- ( they appear bolded in story, but not necessarily in order)

#82 - I didn't realize I needed your permission.

#84 - Just keep moving.

#85 - Do you want me to leave?

::

Tagging:

@darley1101 @sfb123 @mom2000aggie @fluffyfirewhiskey @jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @kingliam2019 @no-one-u-know @nikkis1983 @glaimtruelovealways @texaskitten30 @bbrandy2002 @marshmallowsandfire

Drake leaves Preston alone in his room to get changed. Standing in the silence of the hallway all he could hear and feel were the sound of his blood rushing through his ears and the thud of his heart in his chest and throat. 

Being alone with Kate was his favourite way to spend an evening, and now he had invited another man over to participate. He was still unsure how this night was going to go. The thought of watching his wife touching another man in a sensual way was outside of his comfort zone. He had to trust Kate to not take this too far. He also had to keep himself from wanting to murder Preston for taking pleasure out of touching and kissing his wife. And somehow he had to find pleasure of his own if he was to perform adequately to please Kate. Fuck, this feels all kinds of wrong. 

He sees Preston come out of his room with his hair combed, dressed in trousers, but in bare feet. Drake gives him a wry grin and runs his fingers back through his own hair to fix it. Preston's rakish good looks were already exaggerated by the thickness of his mustache and the scruff of his stubble, making Drake feel less masculine with his shaven cheeks and neatly trimmed hair. He suddenly understood how Maxwell felt about Drake showing off his chest hair at the beach, or when he rolled up his sleeves to do a strenuous task. Drake's stomach was suddenly in knots and he wished he had some whiskey to take the edge off his nerves. He doesn't know what to say to the mountain of a man standing next to him, so he just acknowledges him with a nod and then knocks at his hotel room door.

"You don't have your key?" Preston asks, keeping his voice low.

Drake shakes his head, speaking softly, "No, I gave it to her."

From the other side of the door they can hear Kate ask with a playful sing song tone of voice, "Who is it?"

Drake leans against the doorframe and then says, "Room service."

The door opens and Kate looks them over with a smile on her face, "Hello."

Drake grins, "I believe you ordered the two for one entertainment special."

Kate steps back to allow them to come into the room. "Yes, yes I did. Come on in."

After Kate closes the door behind them there's a brief awkward moment as the two men glance at each other and then toward Kate expectantly. With a gentle smile, Kate walks over to Drake and stretches up on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. He wraps his arm around her back to hug her to his side and she rests her hand on his cheek, whispering in his ear. 

"You've done well, my love. Why don't you go off to the bathroom, brush your teeth, and freshen up a bit while I talk privately with Preston for a moment?"

Drake looks quickly to Preston and then lets go of Kate, keeping his voice low, "Are you sure? Maybe I should stay."

Patting him gently on the chest, she grins, "Don't worry. We'll be fine. I'm not going to start anything while you're gone."

Drake looks between Kate and Preston, trying to fight the uneasy feeling in his gut. Walking over to the bed he keeps an eye on them as he sits down to take off his shoes and socks. "No funny business, Preston. I know very well how irresistible Kate can be."

Preston smirks at him, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I promise to keep my hands to myself, sir."

"Good."

After Drake disappears into the bathroom, Preston breathes a sigh of relief, relaxing a little. "Is he always like this?"

Kate grins at the bodyguard, leading him further into the room. "Drake's complicated."

She sits down on the end of the bed and he settles down into the comfortable armchair opposite. 

"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

Kate shrugs, crossing her legs and arranging her skirt around her knees. "You can ask."

"What's it like to be married to a guy like him?"

"It's interesting, sometimes infuriating, definitely intense, and absolutely incredible."

Preston chuckles, "That's a lot of 'I' words to describe someone."

Kate glances toward the bathroom, wondering how much Drake can overhear.

"Trust me, Drake's the whole alphabet. The only drawback is that he just won't shut up about his feelings."

Preston chuckles again, "Good one. I know I have some 'a' words to describe him too. But I'll keep those to myself."

Kate nods, "Considering that he's your boss, I think that's smart. I want to apologize again for hurting you. I was afraid if I hadn't stopped things that Drake might have hurt you worse."

Preston looks down at his lap, "You could have just slapped my face again."

"Yeah, I know. So are you still sore?"

Preston leans forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees, "A little tender, there will probably be bruising tomorrow, but not my first time taking a hit to the groin."

Kate appraises him over again, lifting her eyebrow, "So you've gotten handsy with an unwilling date before? You don't strike me as that kind of guy, Preston."

He shakes his head, "Nah, nah. I've just been dumb enough to play backyard sports without a cup."

Drake returns from the bathroom, "Oh yeah? What kind of sports did you play?"

Kate interrupts before Preston can answer, "Don't tell me you two would rather discuss sports, than play with me. If so, I'll just send Preston back to his room and you two can chitchat on the drive home tomorrow."

Drake shakes his head, placing his hands on his hips, "No, after all the trouble I went through to get him here, I'd rather see what kind of play you have in mind."

Kate glances between her two men with a smile, "Before we play we need to set some rules."

"Ok," Preston says, sitting back in his chair.

Drake nods, "But, don't forget about my stipulation that I brought up earlier."

"Which is?" Preston wants to know.

Kate sighs giving Preston an apologetic look, "Drake insisted that no part of you was allowed inside of any part of me."

Preston frowns, "That kind of reduces any sort of fun for me in this situation doesn't it?"

Drake folds his arms across his chest, "Well yeah, sorry to burst your bubble but I'm just trying to protect my marital relationship here. I don't want this, whatever it turns out to be, jeopardizing my marriage by turning into some future affair between you two."

"You know I'm the one who is supposed to be in charge here right? One night of fun isn't going to ruin anything. Trust me, Drake." Kate insists. "We've already been over this."

Preston digs into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a foil condom packet, "And if you're that worried about what might happen in the heat of the moment, I did bring protection."

"See? There you go, Drake. He came prepared. Now let's get this party started. And as the Duchess in Charge, I am deciding our party games."

"Sexual party games, seriously?" Drake grumbles, rolling his eyes. 

Kate gets up from the bed, "Oh come on, Mr. Crankypants. I know you'll enjoy them, and besides I'll be explaining how we play each game as we go."

"Mr. Crankypants. I bet you were a barrel of laughs at birthday parties when you were a kid," Preston laughs.

Drake shoots him an angry glare, and Preston smirks back at him, "Speaking of name calling, that brings up an issue. If she's directing the action, I need to know how I'm supposed to acknowledge you both. In my job I use, 'Your Grace, Sir, and Ma'am.'  And I don't know if that works here, considering how intimate we're all about to be."

Drake breathes an annoyed sigh, jabbing his thumb in Preston's direction as he addresses his wife, "If I hear him saying your name in any sort of passionate or seductive way I'm seriously going to lose it. I'll kill him with my bare hands."

"Ok, fine. To safeguard Preston's life, and my husband's precious ego, I'll allow Preston to call me 'K'. Is that neutral enough?"

Drake nods and so does Preston. 

"And so he'll be 'D' then?"

Kate shrugs, "Works for me, but I'm still using both your proper names."

Drake folds his arms, "Ok, so what's happening first?"

"We undress of course, and I'm hoping neither of you are shy. Because I want you and Preston to undress each other. But I want everyone to keep their underoos on for now."

Drake sticks his hand in his pocket, grabbing a handful of Kate's panties. "Um, but you aren't wearing yours."

Preston swallows, "Sh..she's not?"

Drake pulls the lacy undergarment out of his pocket, "Nope. I took these off of her earlier."

Kate holds her hand out, "I'll take them back now."

He dangles them off his finger and then drops them into her hand. "So who is the lucky guy that gets to put them back on you?"

"The first guy down to his underwear gets to slide mine back on, but here's the catch, the other guy gets to take my dress off of me," Kate says with a grin. 

Preston pushes himself up out of the chair, an amused twinkle in his eye and a smile tugging at his mouth, "So one of us gets to touch you from the top down, while the other gets to touch you from the bottom up? I like how you play games K. Fun for everybody."

Drake steps forward to place his hand on Preston's arm, "Curb your enthusiasm there, cowboy."

Preston shakes his arm out of Drake's grasp. "If you're gonna get grabby then help me out of my clothes, D."

Drake turns to face Preston, staring him down as he untucked his dress shirt. The olive that Kate threw at him earlier falls out and bounces off Preston's foot. He looks down, "Is that an olive?"

"Don't ask," Drake mutters, undoing the buttons on the cuff of his sleeve, "I'm gonna help you out here, since you're dressed a lot more casually than I am."

Preston laughs, grabbing Drake by the sleeve to stop him from undressing further, "Hey, stop cheating. I'm supposed to do that for you."

Drake looks down at Preston's simple t-shirt and dress pants, and sees that he isn't wearing a belt. Damn, I want to be the one putting her panties on. Maybe if I take my time he'll get me down to my underwear first. Shit, that means he gets to touch her first. Damn you Kate. You're determined to piss me off with these party games.

Kate twirls her panties around her finger, "Come on you two, get with the baring of skin already. Don't make me take this dress off myself."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Drake mutters, as he undoes the button on Preston's dress pants and then plucks at the fabric of his shirt to untuck it.

"Watch it there, D... I'm ticklish," Preston smirks as he works on the last two buttons of Drake's shirt. 

"Shut up, Preston," Drake grumbles, as he hears Kate giggle. 

"I didn't know watching two guys undress could be so entertaining. Keep going."

Preston undoes Drake's belt and dress pants next, staring him in the eye as he pulls down the zipper. "Lemme guess, your underwear are black too."

With a frown, Drake brushes Preston's hands aside. "Hands up, Meathead. I'm gonna pull up your shirt."

Preston's protest is muffled by Drake's yanking of his shirt up toward his head.  "Hey, the name calling isn't necessary. And ouch, you pinched me."

Drake makes sure to mess up Preston's hair as he tugs the shirt off of him and tosses it aside. 

"Hah, you're just jealous of my hair," Preston laughs as he brushes his back into place with his fingers.

Drake barks back, "Hardly, and your mustache looks ridiculous."

Preston shrugs, "Whatever you say, babyface."

"Hey! I'm fully capable of growing whatever beard I want. I just chose to shave before my date, and get a haircut. I..I wanted to look good for Kate," Drake argues, catching his wife's eye briefly, and then squaring off in front of his bodyguard again.

"No arguments here, Honey, but you're still overdressed. Preston, be a dear and even the playing field by taking off my husband's shirt. Then you'll see he has no trouble in the hair department."

Preston unbuttons the cuff on Drake's other sleeve and then peels back his shirt, letting it slide down his arms to the floor. Drake places his hands on his hips. The motion, combined with 

the weight of his belt and the phone in his pocket makes his dress pants fall down around his ankles. "Whoops, looks like I'm down to my underwear first."

Preston turns toward Kate, "He did that on purpose."

While Drake steps out of his pants, Kate shrugs and tosses her panties at him. "Here you go."

Drake tucks the edge of the lacy waistband into his mouth, mumbling as he relieves Preston of his pants, shoving them down over his ass. "There..ffinsh the rest of tht yrself."

Slipping Kate's panties over his wrist, Drake steps over to his wife. "Before I hand you off to him, and I'm forced to watch as he strips you naked, I want something first."

Kate licks her lips as he reaches up to cup her face in his hands, tilting her head back. "Oh, and what's that?"

As he leans in for a kiss the firm pressure of his mouth against hers almost hurts, making her whimper. He was determined to remind her that no matter how Preston touched her, he was the most important man in her life. When he finally pulls back, her lips are tingling.

He whispers a soft apology against her cheek when he sees her pained expression, "I'm sorry. Just please promise me something."

"What?" She whispers back, as he leans his forehead against hers, softly stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. 

"Make sure he asks your permission before he touches you anywhere. If he's rough with you in any way I'll never forgive myself." 

Stepping back, he sees her nod. "Okay," she whispers.

Turning away he glares at Preston, "She's all yours, but I'm warning you that I'm watching your every move. If I see your hands treating her with anything but the greatest of respect, I'll break your fingers and then I'll break your face. Understood?"

Preston nods, "Yes, understood. I promise to be as gentle as possible."

"Good. Oh and Preston?"

"Yeah?" He asks, as he steps out of his pants. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest, it was pounding so hard.

"Make sure she enjoys every second of it."

…

Drake's underwear weren't black afterall, they were blue. Preston's were grey. Kate's were black silk and lace. Drake was currently running them through his hands, and occasionally wrapping them around his fist. He watched Preston approach Kate, hoping he'd chicken out, or at least trip and fall on his big mustached face. His feet were big enough, but no such bad luck. Staring at Preston's back, with its broad shoulders and defined muscles made him feel small. Glancing down at the other man's large hands, he felt an ache in his gut over the thought of them being capable of touching Kate with tenderness. The way Kate's eyes traveled over Preston as he smiled at her, made Drake feel sick. He didn't want to watch Preston undress his wife, but at the same time he couldn't look away. He knew the satiny fabric of her dress wouldn't need much encouragement to slide down off of her, and after being tempted all evening by how great she'd looked in it; he was just as eager as Preston to see her naked.

Kate sized up Preston as he stood before her. Physically he wasn't much taller than Drake, barely an inch, but his posture was straighter. He seemed to tower over Kate, and her line of sight was mostly filled by the wall of his chest covered nipple to nipple by a golden mat of curly chest hair. When she looked up, his lip curled upward in a smirk, making his mustache twitch.

"I'm going to touch you Preston, are you okay with that?"

He sucks in a nervous breath and nods, "If it means I get to touch you back, then go right ahead."

Kate tries not to focus on the significant bulge in his underwear as she looks down, but it wasn't easy. She wasn't going to touch him there, not yet. She starts by stroking her fingers slowly up his arms beginning at his wrists. His fingers twitch, and she can't help noticing his chest rising and falling as his rate of breathing increases. 

"If you're affected this badly when I touch your arms, then what's going to happen if I touch you somewhere else?"

 

"I..I..don't know."

The amount of meat on his limbs was slightly more than Drake's but it was definitely more muscle than fat. Kate knew Drake's measurements off by heart because she helped him pick out his suits. If Preston were to put on Drake's clothes by accident, one flex of his muscles would split the seams. 

When Kate's hands make there way up to rest on his shoulders, his hands are still hanging by his sides. She pouts up at him and the desire in his eyes as he gazes back is obvious. 

"What's the matter Preston, don't you want me?" Kate asks, lowering her lashes and then slowly looking up to search his face.

His eyes widen momentarily in surprise at the unexpected seduction she was laying on him, "Is that a trick question?"

"No."

"You're either trying to kill me, or get me killed, asking me something like that."

"Well, answer the question."

Continues here ..>

#drake walker #choices #long post #drake x kate #henry cavill as preston davis #tw: dubcon

[thestormlionessmemes]

Mona Lisa Smile

All her life she had wanted to teach at _.

Keep walking, ma'am.

I'm dying to meet her.

Who knocks at the Door of Learning?

I am every woman.

What do you seek?

To awaken my spirit through hard work...and dedicate my life to knowledge.

Then you are welcome.

All women who seek to follow you can enter here.

A shame you didn't come yesterday.

It's so quiet before the girls arrive.

I just knew when we met...we'd be instant friends.

Be careful. They can smell fear.

From the beginning, man has always had the impulse to create art.

This is probably less familiar.

Just because something is ancient doesn't mean that it is primitive.

You know, not everybody wanted you.

I'm not naming any names.

I'm not comparing them.

I've never been to Europe.

I can assure all of you this is the place I want to be more than anything.

Better discipline next class,

Hey, is everything okay?

I can't really talk right now.

I'll write you tonight.

So you got a fella?

He was a great man.

I see you survived.

Don't let those girls know that they got to you.

You almost convinced me.

It's grotesque.

Is there a rule against grotesque art?

I think there's something aggressive about it ... and erotic.

To you, everything is erotic.

Everything is erotic.

Just look at it again.

Why are you like this?

I didn't mean that.

Let me look.

I can't look for a second?

She had a torrid affair.

- She came here to get away.

- That's ridiculous.

- Who was it?

- I don't know.

Who was it, Giselle?

Don't be a pimple! Tell me!

Is she giving you any trouble?

You're your mother's daughter.

I don't blame you. I mean...who wouldn't want

to murder your mother?

Got an extra ciggie?

Someone, somewhere, someday might be interested.

Whoever wins is first to marry!

Do the girls take it literally?

They're wishing for their babies.

Have you seen this?

The big war hero.

He thinks he's something special.

He sleeps with his students.

A good wife lets her husband think that everything's his idea... even when it's not.

They're letting you go.

It's out of my hands.

Can I buy you a drink? Or are you here for dinner?

That's very funny.

A few years from now your sole responsibility will be taking care of your husband and children.

You know, if you were mine, I'd never let you go.

I wouldn't have asked your permission.

How do you expect to ever make a difference if everything is a joke?

They have their own way of doing things here.

Will you be all right?

You might actually enjoy it.

You're giving me another chance?

You go back to sleep.

Excuse me.

She's too old for him.

She's too smart for him.

You are so beautiful.

My parents say my futureis right on the horizon.

I don't wanna take advantage.

I know that this was some favour.

Come on, dance with me.

Do you wanna know something funny?

Your timing is perfect.

There it is.

I hope you get that ring!

Is she the cutest?

So maybe a family isn't far behind.

You don't want to be a lawyer.

You've got to be kidding me!

You're getting married!

First of all, there's no ring on this finger.

You are this close to getting everything you ever wanted.

In this lifetime? It'll never happen.

Come here, beautiful.

I just want to talk to you for a minute.

I'm sleeping down here by myself?

You're a sight for sore eyes.

We thought we'd lost you.

First, the oath.

People change. Things happen.

He went off and married someone else.

I do, however, believe in manners.

Today you just listen.

What will the future scholars see when they study us?

What does that mean?

I give up.

You win.

The smartest women in the country.

I didn't realize that by demanding excellence...I would be challenging...The roles you were born to fill.

The roles you were born to fill?

It's just a different kind of corset.

Well, we can all use a little support.

I wanted to give you this.

I had fun, and I'm not looking for anything serious.

Talk about something a little more interesting?

This has been the most romanticweekend I may ever have.

Are your ears burning?

I think the feet go first when they set the stake on fire.

Why couldn't you let me be happy?

Don't lie for him. He does it so well for himself.

We eloped over the weekend.

You're the one who said I could do anything I wanted. This is what I want.

Can you please not interrupt me?!

I know I have made mistakes. A ton. But I never make them twice.

We stayed up all night talking.

We stayed up all night too. Not talking.

It means he and his wife don't speak the same language.

Do you know what they say?

They say you're a whore.

It must be torturous running after a man who doesn't care about you... who's in love with someone else, who hates you.

He doesn't want me.

He doesn't sleep with me.

She's not happy.

I didn't correct them.

Why couldn't you just be honest?

There will be no divorce.

She's smiling. Is she happy?

She looks happy.

Don't wash your dirty laundry in public.

Not everything is as it seems.

You should be celebrating.

Let's celebrate.

I filed for a divorce this morning.

And since we know I'm not welcome at your house...

You remember Giselle Levy?

What did you call her?

#-Memes #rp meme #quote meme