#Brutal methods of punishment

[pastafossa]

I love this take, like YES. Both of them are motivated by these massive hearts, and the same empathy. They feel the same driving fire when seeing an innocent person's pain. If all crime suddenly ceased, they'd both hang up their batons guns kevlar devil suit tools most likely, and they would and have absolutely taken those bullets both physical and metaphorical for others. It's so important to realize that what they do is something they do in response to the suffering of others. It's not a decision they made in a vacuum, and it's not something you can just ask them to stop while that suffering continues (though we see them both try to walk away from it at least once). Because they can't. They can't stand to see that suffering, and so they both, in their own ways and driven by the pain of others, set about trying to prevent it, to save lives.

And ironically, the issue they have over how to do that is one of the oldest ethical debates around: do the ends justify the means?

One ethical side, Utilitarianism, says the ends absolutely justify the means. It's focused on consequences, on a formula: does this help more people than it hurts? If it does, then it's moral and you go through with it. That's where Frank stands. He kills a murderer not because he finds killing fun, but because he looks at the murderer and believes, 'I'll prevent more people being harmed by killing this one person.' And logically, it makes sense. If that man would go on to harm 20 other people, killing that one person seems moral. Cut the chain, and the line of suffering stops. He's preventing harm and suffering by taking out those who harm others, and the reputation he spreads discourages others from going after innocents because they know that the Punisher can't be reasoned with, can't be convinced, and he won't let them walk away. They'll just be dead.

The other side, the side Matt tends to follow, is deontology. In this category, the ends don't always justify the means. An action is judged not on potential consequences, but on whether the action itself is right or wrong. Matt will beat folks up in defense of others, send them to jail where their harm can be restrained, but all of those actions in and of themselves can be considered right. Murder, however, is always wrong to him, no matter what the potential future consequence is, because human life is inherently valuable. He clings tight to that, and to the chance for redemption - even a murderer might have a scrap of good in them, and that scrap of good is worth saving, worth giving a chance to grow. What he does is still about preventing suffering, but it's also about making sure there's always a door open for them to become good and help others. And it's just as much about preventing himself from crossing that line and potentially darkening the good inside of himself, becoming that which he fights every night.

They both see the suffering of others and refuse to accept it, which is one reason they're both so sympathetic, and why we can often find ourselves rooting for Matt and Frank regardless of the morality issue. They've both just come down on opposing sides of a long-standing ethical debate when it comes to preventing harm. But it is about preventing harm. And it is absolutely driven, openly, authentically, fully, by their massive hearts.

God I wish I could show my old college Ethics professor the scene of Frank and Matt arguing on the rooftop. He'd have a field day with it and I know for a fact that he'd show it every semester precisely to tie up students with, well they both care about people and want to prevent harm, who's right?

"You're one bad day away from being me." "The Punisher and Daredevil are two sides to the same coin." Blah blah blah.

You know what Matt and Frank's problem is? Their hearts are too big. They see pain - innocent people's pain. And they know they can't fix it, can't take it away. Can't change the past. But they can stop the source of the pain and prevent it from ever causing pain again. It's not about punishing - it's about prevention. Cause their damn hearts are too big. Because they both would happily take a bullet just to protect some child they'd never met. To protect normal people just living their lives even if they had no concept of who those people actually were.

Their hearts are just too damn big...

[yieldtotemptation]

BLUEBERRIES ft. Chaewon

chaewon x male reader smut

9k words

"SURPRISE ATTACK!"

—is the last thing you hear before your entire world tilts sideways, the weight of your girlfriend crashing into you, sending you toppling over the arm of your chair and onto the thankfully plush carpet.

And just like that, Kim Chaewon has arrived—shattering the quiet of your apartment with the sound of her giggles and the thud of your bodies.

To her credit, she gracefully lands on top of you—legs straddling your torso, hands pressing down on your chest—pinning you to the floor, and she's grinning—all doe-eyes and mischief, her hair fanned out around her like a strawberry-blonde halo.

"Do you surrender, baby?"

You could pretend to put up a fight—push back a little, buck your hips, take her by the waist—get a little rough. But why would you? Especially when losing meant having Chaewon on top of you.

So, like always, you decide it's best to give your girlfriend exactly what she wants and you play along: enjoying the creamy thighs squeezing your sides, that collarbone peeking out of your stolen sweatshirt, those impossibly large eyes looking down at you as she makes herself comfortable—and you respond with a rather theatrical groan, "I surrender, Chae."

"Nuh uh," she corrects you, her voice dropping down a comically low octave. "It's Chaewon-rys Targar-something, Queen of Apartment 19-4, Ruler of..."

"My fridge?" You offer.

"Very funny,” Chaewon replies, bemused.

It's been weeks without this—without her—and you've barely survived. Chaewon's schedule is a merciless beast, devouring every second of her time. But here she is, now, with you—on top of you—back in your life and picking up from exactly where she left off.

“But,” she continues, “seeing as you're in the mood for jokes how about… ThisI" Chaewon turns cruel, unveiling her most brutal method of torture—tickling. She catches you off guard, shifting her weight, her hands abandoning your chest and flying to your sides, her light fingers dancing over your ribs, her nails lightly digging in just enough to make you squirm.

"Wait-wait-wait!" You try to twist your way free, but she's got you good, her fingers now inching closer to your armpits, towards your most vulnerable spots. "Mercy!" you yell, but she's just getting started— “Mercy!”

"No mercy!" She's relishing this far, far too much, all giggles and grins, delighted at your pathetic efforts to struggle out from her grasp and escape her vicious assault. Your laughter comes out in uncontrollable bursts, as you desperately try to cover your sides to protect yourself from her onslaught.

"Ok-ok-ok-I give up! You win— you win—I give up!" You cry out, your laughter morphing into wheezes as Chaewon's relentless tickling at last, mercifully subsides.

"Aha! Round 129 goes to Kim-Chae-Won!" Chaewon turns and bows to an imaginary audience, mimicking a faraway crowd chanting her name "Kim-Chae-Won! Kim-Chae-Won!"

"I have once again been defeated," you feign a dramatic sigh, drawing an even harder laugh from Chaewon as you roll your eyes to the back your head and let your tongue loll out of your mouth.

Your apparent death does little to faze Chaewon, who takes this as an opportunity to plop down on your stomach, pressing her full weight down on your chest. She props her elbows on either side of your shoulders, her chin resting on her interlocked hands. “I guess it’s time to claim my prize.”

Chaewon slides her hands upwards, her fingertips walking up your arms towards your wrists, squeezing them lightly and pulling them over your head, holding them firm against the ground.

When your eyes finally refocus, she’s hovering over you, her button nose brushing against yours, and her lips—bright pink and slightly parted—just millimeters away from your own.

You're trapped under her, but you hardly mind—she's so warm, so soft, so natural—crime would skyrocket if this was considered a form of punishment.

"Let this be a lesson," she's whispering now, very much satisfied, so close that waves of her strawberry-blonde hair spill down on either side of your face. Strands tickle your nose with the scent of her shampoo, a floral bouquet that you've come to associate with lazy Sundays and the promise of warm breakfasts in bed. "I. Always. End. On. Top."

She finishes her victory speech by stealing a kiss—as light and sweet as she is—but it’s still far, far shorter than you'd like.

That simple kiss has your mind wandering, entertaining the thought of flipping the script—of surprising her, overpowering her and turning the tables.

You could grab her, kiss her long and hard—get rid of that ludicrously oversized sweatshirt and tear off those dangerously short sweatpants. Part those lithe, never-ending legs, feel the warmth of her bare skin against yours, mark your territory on her perfect, toned thighs and each individual abdominal muscle.

But the way she's looking at you, her cheeks flushed from the exertion, her eyes sparkling with playful triumph, she's so adorable that the thought of manhandling her right now seems almost...sacrilegious.

And, let's face it, it's seeing this side of her that you love—the Chaewon that's free from the glitz and glamour of the stage, the choreography, the smiles that are painted on for the cameras. The Chaewon that is not wearing the mask of someone enjoying herself, that is actually, genuinely having a good time.

Here, in your apartment, with the curtains drawn and the outside world blocked out, she's just yours—Kim Chaewon, your girlfriend. The one who laughs at your terrible dad jokes and makes fun of your outdated sense of style, the one who can tell whether you've had a good day or not just by how heavy your feet are when you walk through the front door, the one who knows all the perfect ways to make you relax after a tough day at—

Fuck.

Work.

The word sneaks into your mind like a ninja in the night—silent, swift, and really fucking inconvenient.

Fucking work.

A bullshit spreadsheet you're supposed to be updating and a deck that needs to be finished by tomorrow morning, even though you know it won't be looked at for another month.

You don't have to say anything, Chaewon's already reading the frown lines on your face. "Oh—no-no-no. That's your—'fun time is over I have work to do'—face. I hate that face."

"There's these slides..." you know you’re fighting a losing battle, your voice trailing off as you try to hold onto the last remnants of what was once a very pleasant afternoon.

"No way—not happening," Chaewon insists, emphasising her point with a firm squeeze of your wrists. "I only just came back from Japan, and it’s been weeks. There is no way you're going to ditch the beautiful love of your life for that laptop. I'm literally on top of you right now!"

"Come on, Chae, I was almost done when you came in—"

"—when I defeated you in combat and forced you to surrender— "

"At least let me do a quick review then I swear I'm all yours," you negotiate, trying to maintain eye contact with her but failing as your gaze falls to the laptop atop your desk, the open tabs taunting you. "Five minutes, tops."

"Nope, not moving, not going anywhere, you're just going to have stay under me like this forever." Chaewon's being petulant now—this is more your fault than anything, you've been spoiling her like a princess—and while she is acting like a brat, it's a brat of your own creation.

"Chae—come on—let me up, please."

"If I let you up, you'll get into one of your 'zones' and then it'll be hours before you’re done and you’ll completely ignore me," Chaewon pouts, her nose scrunching up in a way that's both endearing and exasperating. "And I've missed you too much for that."

"I promise I won't—”

Chaewon rolls her eyes at that.

“I'm serious—just let me up."

"Oh, you're serious now, how scary."

"Five minutes, Chae—"

“Bullshit.”

“Come on, let me up.”

"Or what, what are you going to—wait—what the—wait!"

It doesn't take much effort at all—face it, she's at best a hundred pounds soaking wet—but you're already on your feet, wrists free of her dainty fingers, holding her up with just one arm and a single hand palming an ample ass cheek.

You catch your breath as you stand, and she’s still reeling as the sudden balance shifts. She’s forced to cling to you, wrapping those long, toned legs around your waist, and looping her arms around your neck, her hands grasping at the back of your head as if she's afraid you're going to drop her.

"H-how the—how did you—I had you pinned!" Chaewon squeaks out, pure disbelief colouring her voice as she clings onto you.

You leave her to work through the logic on her own, returning to your desk, righting your fallen chair, all the while still holding Chaewon like a prize you've just won at an arcade.

"Hey! Don't ignore me!" Chaewon protests, but it's too late. You've already set her down on your desk, the laptop between the two of you like a barricade. She tries to keep her limbs wrapped around you, legs around your waist—do anything she can to stop you—but you gently, quite easily, peel her off—earning another scowl from your girlfriend.

You can feel Chaewon's eyes boring into you as you sit down at your desk, her legs swinging back and forth from the edge of the desk in frustration. The work itself doesn't take long—you were being honest—just a minor grammar check here, fixing some formatting there and—

"What was that? How did you just—”

It's the first time you've ever seen Kim Chaewon—usually so composed and untouchable on stage—so completely, utterly flustered.

"I don't get it. I mean did you just get this strong?" Chaewon's voice is small, barely heard over the sound of your keystrokes—trying to process what just happened. She's shifted on the desk, leaning back now on her palms, looking at you like you're a puzzle piece that doesn't fit anywhere at all. "Or have you always been—you were just—were you letting me win? Hey—why are you laughing?"

You hit a final 'enter', saving your work with a performative flair, and spin the chair around to face Chaewon so you can give her your full, undivided attention.

But she's not looking at you—no, she's still trying to make sense of it, her gaze flitting from the chair, to the floor, to the laptop, to your hands that are now folded neatly in your lap. You're expecting a comeback, something witty and biting, something that'll make you laugh, but she's just sitting there—pouting. Adorably so.

"Chae, come on."

"What?" She snaps out of her daze, the hardware in her head overclocking. "I just—I exercise way more than you—I run, I dance everyday, I go to the gym, I do pilates—you can't be that much stronger than me."

"I'm like twice your size, Chae." You chuckle, reaching for the water bottle on your desk and taking a well-earned swig. "And I do manage to sneak in some workouts when you're not around to tickle me to death."

"But... this whole time?" Chaewon asks, there’s an accusation in her voice as she crosses her arms over her chest, inadvertently distracting you with the way it makes her sweatshirt pull tightly across her breasts. It's too fucking cute, and you can't help but lean in for a kiss, but she turns her head away at the last second. "Every time, you've been taking it easy on me? Kiddie gloves?"

You sigh.  "More or less."

"Why?"

"I guess I thought you knew," you say with a sheepish smile, "but even then, I didn't want to spoil the fun for you." You take another sip of water, watching her carefully. "You're so competitive, Chae. And when we’re playing like this and you win, you're so... happy. I just like seeing that."

"But that's..." Chaewon stammers. "Even when we're... You know... You're so... Gentle with me."

"Of course, I never want to—I'm just afraid that—"

"Afraid of what? That you'll break me? Okay, Bruce Banner." Chaewon teases, seemingly having made some decision in her own mind, as she hops off the desk to face you. "So, you've been holding back? You really think you’re that much stronger than me?”

You give her a very cautious shrug.

"Prove it."

"What?"

"If you’re really as strong as you think. Show me. Here—take my wrists—" Chaewon says, holding them out to you, "—and I bet I'll still be able to break free like I always do."

“I’m not sure if this is such a good idea,” you say, setting your bottle aside and standing up to face her.

“Why? Chicken?” She answers, and you try not to facepalm, reminding yourself that it is easier to just give her what she wants—most of the time, anyway.

"Alright, if that's what you want," you reply, gently placing your hands on her shoulders and guiding her so her back is flat against the nearest wall. She's staring up at you the whole time, watching you intensely as you take both her wrists in one hand, holding it against the wall and above her head.

"Really, only one hand? This will be real easy to get out of—" Chaewon starts to taunt, but she never gets to finish her sentence, because your grip tightens around her wrists and she feels the full weight of your body pressing into hers. She tries to pull away, expecting the same give she's felt countless times before, but your hand is like a vice—firm and unyielding—and it dawns on her that she's not going anywhere.

Her eyes widen slightly, and she tries to hide her surprise—because she's still in the game, still playing along. She tries to push off from the wall with her legs, but you anticipate it, placing a hand on her waist and keeping her in place.

Even you're surprised at how little effort it is to keep her still—a small push here, a slight change in weight there—Chaewon is at your mercy and it feels... different.

"Wait—I can't—" Chaewon still hasn’t given up, squirming and wiggling, doing little to help her escape but a lot to make you want to keep her against you.

She's trapped, every move she makes only making it worse for her—better for you—moulding her body closer into yours, aligning the softness of her curves with the hard lines of your chest.

But still, she struggles, tries every way she can think of to break free—twisting, turning, pushing with her legs, even trying to bite you at one point—but her best efforts only make you chuckle, and press her harder into the wall, press yourself harder into her.

You can feel her heart racing beneath her sweatshirt, and there's something there—you both feel it—a sudden tension in her helplessness, a thrill in your newfound power over her. "Damn it—this is so—argh!"

Chaewon’s eyes meet yours, and there’s your confirmation—that spark of something new, something unspoken. It's not anger or fear—no, she's never looked at you with fear—it's something else entirely. It's excitement, curiosity, a hint of arousal.

And so, you lean in, closing the last gap between you, and kiss her—right there against the wall.

It's not the gentle peck she's used to, it's not the sweet, loving kiss she’s grown to expect—it's more. You don’t even understand it yourself—it's raw, it's passionate, it's the kind of kiss that could start a war—or end one—the kind of kiss that sucks all the air from the room.

Her body tenses up, and for a moment you fear that maybe this is too much, too far, and you ready to let her go.

But she melts into it—into you. You let go of her wrists to cradle her face, and her arms fall to your shoulders, wrapping around your neck as she kisses you back—kisses you like she doesn't want you to ever stop, like she knows she couldn't stop you even if she tried. Her nails dig into your skin, not painfully, but with enough pressure to remind you that she's here, that she's alive and real and in this moment with you.

You push her into the wall, the plaster giving a gentle protest, and she’s lifting her legs up—she’s straddling you again, gravity doing its job and keeping her affixed to your torso.

Chaewon adapts, her ankles lock behind your back, pressing herself against you, her thighs tightening around your waist, and she’s hips grinding down over your sweatpants.

It’s almost too much, too fast—zero to a hundred in record time. You break the kiss, panting, breathless, but Chaewon's eyes stay closed, her chest heaving, as if she's afraid that if she opens them, this moment will evaporate like a mirage.

"Enough proof for you?"

"Yeah," is all Chaewon can muster, and she opens her eyes, dazed, like you’ve just woken her up from a particularly good dream.

"I'm sorry," you say, the words coming out in a rush, "I didn't mean to lie to you, I just didn't want to ruin your fun. Are you upset?"

"Upset?" Chaewon repeats, letting the word roll around her lips. "Maybe a little bit," she's biting her lip—so endearingly—and you can see the wheels turning in her head—recalculating, reassessing. "But now I'm just..." she pauses, looking down and rolling her hips against you once more, "I'm just really, really turned on."

Her admission hangs in the air between the two of you, and the air in your apartment begins to feel hotter, thicker, laced with something new.

"I love how you take care of me, how you make me feel safe..." Chaewon continues, "But this... the way you're holding me up like this... So easily, it's just so..." Another shifting of weight, another grind of her hips, and she’s slowly discovering what your sweatpants is making very little to hide. "Hot."

"Is that right?" You can't take your eyes off her lips, the way they form those delicious words. Maybe you've been wrong to treat her like she's fragile, like you could hurt her if you're not careful enough. Maybe what she’s really been craving is to prove herself to you, to prove to you that she can handle you—all of you. "Tell me what you like about it."

"I like how—ah—" Her voice hitches as you let go of her waist with your hand, sliding it under her sweatshirt, running your fingers over her toned stomach, feeling it cave in a sharp inhale. "How in control you are. How strong you feel."

Even without your hand at her waist she doesn't fall—her legs simply tighten around your waist, her grip on your neck becoming more secure, more possessive. You trace her belly button with your fingertip—her breath catches, her eyes flutter shut.

"How it feels like you could do—mmm—" she continues, her words getting lost as your hand rises higher up her body, reaching the swell of her breasts. Chaewon arches her back, pushing her chest out for more, a soft mewl escaping her lips. “—could do anything to me and I wouldn't be able to stop you."

You slip your fingers under her bra, the fabric stretching to accommodate your touch, press your thumb against her nipple, feeling it pebble under your touch. You pinch and roll them lightly, basking in her reactions, the way her eyebrows furrow, the way her mouth forms a perfect 'O'.

"I can do anything I want to you."

Chaewon's eyes open, and she’s looking at you like she’s seeing someone entirely different in place of her usual, doting boyfriend. She's panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her cheeks a glowing shade of red that seems to spread down her neck and into the fabric of her sweatshirt. She opens her mouth, her breath coming out in short, sharp gasps, and she whispers—"Will you?"

Two simple words. Two simple words that unlock something deep inside you. Something primal. The thing inside each man since the dawn of time that drives them to hunt, kill, fuck like their lives depend on it.

Two simple words that have you leaning in and kissing her again, not just her lips—your mouth traces a fiery path along her jawline, the tender spot behind her ear, down her neck. Each kiss is a promise of what's to come, each nip of your teeth makes her shiver.

Chaewon gasps, her body writhing under your touch, her legs tightening around your waist, desperate and afraid you'll pull away. You don't. Instead, you press into her, feeling the wetness spreading through her shorts, and it takes all your self-control to not rip them off her right there.  

"Bedroom," she manages to get out, a soft, fleeting whimper between kisses, "take me to the—"

You never find out the end of her sentence—twisting her body around, your hands cupping the firm, round globes of her ass, and in a single, swift motion, you lift her higher, throwing her up and over your shoulder.

"Wai—" Chaewon squeals as you hoist her up, her legs dangling in the air, has ass pointing to the sky.

She's giggling again, the sound muffled by the fabric of your sweatshirt, her laughter vibrating through your back as you carry her across the apartment.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this—" she's still giggling, managing to separate herself from your back to chide you,

"—you're so strong it's unfair—",

"—treating me like I weigh nothing—" ,

"—like a caveman—",

"—I'm going to have to tell the others about this—",

"—they won't believe it—",

"—I don't even believe it—",

"—my what a big, strong boyfriend I ha—"

But she's cut off again as you kick open the already ajar bedroom door, the wood slamming against the wall. Before she can realise what's happening you're throwing her onto the bed, her body bouncing once before she lands in a sprawled mess of limbs and exclamations.

"Are you ever going to let me finish a full sen—"

"Chae," her name comes out deeper and gruffer—far more demanding than you intended, cutting off her playful protests in an instant.

For once, Chaewon is paying full attention—no quips, no sarcasm, no laughter to lighten the mood—the room completely quiet except for the sound of her breathing, and even that seems to hush in anticipation of what's to come.

You stand over her, her legs still in the air, her body open and exposed for you—her sweatshirt riding up, revealing the smooth expanse of her stomach, the little mole you've kissed a thousand times just above her navel, her shorts stretched so tightly over her thighs.

It's in the way she's looking at you too—the way she squirms under your gaze, the way she can't help but make her body arch up towards you, pushing out those beautiful, perfect breasts, slightly parting her legs as if inviting you to dive in—wanting you to take her (to fuck her) in all the ways you wanted to but were too afraid to try before—it's all so different, all too much, all so fucking intoxicating.

"You want me to do whatever I want to you?"

Chaewon swallows hard, and nods.

"You want me to take you however I want?"

Another nod, another submission.

You step closer to the bed, your mind completely made up. "Then say it."

Her voice comes out hoarse, a strained whisper. "Take me."

"Again."

She repeats it, this time her words clearer, urgent. "Please—take me."

And with that—her shorts—those tight, far too tiny shorts—become your first victim. There's no time for slow, teasing unbuttoning or the gentle tug of fabric over skin. You're too far gone for that.

So, you rip.

The button pops off with a satisfying ping, and the material gives way, revealing her panties beneath. The sound makes Chaewon gasp, her body shiver.

Hooking your thumbs in the waistband, you drag the shorts down her legs, bringing them gliding over the soft skin of her ass, catching briefly on her thighs before you toss them to the floor.

Her panties are next—white, cotton, and oh-so-innocent looking—the kind tailor-made to be ripped off and left in shreds. But just as your hand reaches the waistband, something holds you back.

A thought—a flicker of doubt—crosses your mind. What if she doesn't like this? What if you're getting caught up and taking things too far? What if she regrets what she's about to let you do to her?

But then, "I'm okay," Chaewon says, reading your hesitation. "Stop thinking like that." Her voice is firm, almost commanding. "I want this."

"Chae—"

"I. Want. This." Chaewon repeats, her voice stronger. “I want it all.”

You trust her—you always will—and so, you nod, understanding the gravity of her words. You lean over her, capturing her gaze, making sure she sees you, really sees you. "Alright, but we need a safe word."

"A safe word." Chaewon echoes, a smile rising on her face, as she realises what a safe word means—what it enables you to do to her.

"If you want me to stop," you say, slowly, like a professor and his star pupil. "Just say..."

"Blueberry," Chaewon interjects, the corner of her mouth curling up into a mischievous smile.

"Blueberry?" It's so unfitting, so fucking adorable, so Chae. "Fine then, if you want me to stop," you begin to explain the rules of the game that you're already starting—kissing down her calf, over her knee, down that gorgeous curve of her inner thigh, until your lips are meeting cotton— "you just say 'blueberry'. As loud as you can, the second you want me to stop. Otherwise, we keep going until I'm satisfied. Got it?"

Chaewon nods eagerly, a little too eagerly, but you don't miss the glint of excitement in her eyes. She's so ready for you, so ready for what's to come next, her body vibrating with anticipation.

"Good."

The single word hangs in the air, a declaration of intent. With it, your hand moves to her panties, the cotton material damp with her arousal. You don't hesitate, you don't play it slow, again—all it takes is your thumb in her waistband and you rip. What were once her panties gives way easily, tearing with a sound that's halfway might as well be a starting pistol, revealing her bare, already glistening, already so wet pussy to the coolness of the room.

But Chaewon's not just lying there waiting for you to make your next move. No, she's not that kind of girl. She's sitting up now, her sweatshirt coming off with a flick of her wrists, the heavy garment flying through the air to land somewhere in the room, forgotten.

Her bra follows suit—quick, efficient, like she couldn't wait another second to be naked for you. Chaewon's breasts bounce free, full and firm and so fucking perfect, rosy tips hard from the cold air or maybe just from the way you're looking at her.

Fuck, the sight of her alone is almost too much. You take a moment, just to breathe her in—to admire the way the light from the bedside lamp casts shadows on her skin, highlighting the curves and valleys of her body. She's a work of art, a masterpiece, and now, she's all yours—every line, every freckle, every goosebump that pops up as the cool air kisses her heated skin.

But you're not here to admire, not now. You're here to give her exactly what she wants, to treat her exactly how she deserves.

You push her back into the bed, your hands on her shoulders, the mattress sinking under your joint weight, and you're kissing her again—no, not kissing, consuming. You kiss her like you're trying to claim her, like you're trying to brand her with your mouth, and she's kissing you back with matched desperation, her nails digging into your skin like she's trying to climb you, to get closer, closer still.

"Mmmm..." Chaewon presses herself up against you—her taut, stiff nipples pushing into your chest, perfect buds squashing themselves against your body, her bare skin gliding over your shirt, her pussy, hot and wet and slippery, working its way over the swell of your sweatpants.

Her hands are everywhere—fumbling with your shirt, running up and down your back, grabbing fistfuls of your hair—and her lips follow, peppering kisses across your cheeks, your jaw, your neck. Her teeth graze the sensitive skin just below your ear, her tongue tracing the shell, her lips whispers sweet—filthy—nothings into your ear.

She dares to move a hand lower, squeezing in some tiny gap between your two bodies, reaching for the waistband of your sweatpants, her fingers teasing the skin just above the elastic.

But you're quicker, catching her wrist, pulling it away with a firm, yet gentle grip.

"No."

You collect her other wrist in the same hand, stretching her arms out and over her head, pushing her down—with your grip, your weight, your hips—keeping her in place, keeping her where you want, paying her back in kind for her earlier “victory”.

"I know what you want," you murmur against her neck. You lean more of your weight into her, your hips pressing down, grinding against her—a slow, deliberate movement, that stains your sweatpants with the juices leaking from her pink, puffy lips.

"Yes," she purrs, "I need you."

"I know," you taunt—another grind, another groan, a deepening stain, "but I need you to want me more."

"I do," she's pleading, begging, "please, I need your cock."

"Not yet," you say, a light chuckle at the whine that escapes her lips. "Not yet."

"But—"

"I am going to fuck you," you say. "Not how you're used to." Her breath hitches, throat swallows—apprehension, arousal, adrenaline—it's all there, playing out on her face like a silent movie. "I'm going to fuck you in every way that I've ever wanted to, in every way I thought you could never handle."

You snake a hand from her waist, drawing a path with your fingertips, running them over her soft, unblemished skin, the ridges of her abs, as you move your hand down, down, until you're right at the juncture of her thighs.

"Ah!" It's the sweetest sound, a high-pitched gasp that turns into a full-throated groan as your index finger breaches her wetness, sliding into the slick, dripping opening of her cleanly shaved cunt—so, so wet—until it's buried knuckle-deep inside her.

Chaewon's back lifts off the bed, her body curving as you slide your finger in and out of her, settling into a steady rhythm. Every movement earns a different, delightful reaction—you trigger your finger: her body shakes, you kiss her neck: she echoes back your name, you add your middle, then your ring finger into her tightness: she falls apart.

"God—gah—" she chokes on whatever noise her mouth is trying to make, her legs spreading wider, hips bucking up to meet your hand, your rhythm. She's beyond soaked; her thighs, her lips, your palm—all drenched in hot, insatiable wetness. "You're so—so fucking good at this."

You add your thumb to the mix, brushing the hood of her clit with the pad; you curl your fingers inside her, finding that spot that makes her crumble.

Her eyes start to close, she’s lost to the sensation, her face contorting in beautiful agony as her walls close around your digits, before you snap her out of it—tightening your grip around her wrists, a slight jolt of pain to force her eyes to meet yours.

"Look at me," you grunt. "Look at me while I fuck you."

Chaewon doesn't dare even blink—she’s so obedient—and the way she's looking up at you now—so willing, so wanting to please, so eager for more—it's bordering on complete worship.

So, you give it to her. You plunge your fingers deeper, twisting and turning, feeling her tighten around you, her wetness coating your hand, the walls of her pussy fluttering with each stroke. You can see it in the redness of her cheeks, the trembling of her thighs, the way her stomach muscles tighten and release—she's close, she’s been so close for far too long.

"Good girl." You kiss her forehead, her nose, her dimples, something sweet amongst the depravity.

"Am I?" Chaewon's question is hopeful, so disastrously erotic, her voice a breathy whisper. There's the beginnings of a storm in her eyes, the first hints painting her features in a way that's so vulnerable, that tells you the only thing holding her back from collapsing is your explicit approval.

"Yes, Chae," you murmur against her ear, nibbling gently, your fingers melting inside her folds. "You're being such a good girl for me."

"Th-thank you," she manages shaky words, barely keeping it together, at the mercy of the quickening of your fingers, the circling of your thumb, the movements of your hand, helping her climb towards that wonderful peak. "Oh my God—how are you—how is this—so—fuck—fuck—"

"Good girls deserve a reward." You're roughly kissing into her collarbone, feeling her pulse hammering under your lips—you want to leave a mark on her body, something for her to remember this by—something to remind her how completely she came apart for you. "Cum for me—cum now—cum on my fingers. Show me how much you want it—how much you love it."

"Please," Chaewon's desperate, so desperate, trying to do something, anything, everything that she can to convince you to let her fall apart. "I love how you touch me—just—please—I’m so close—"

She’s on fire, there’s too much pressure—your fingers work inside her, undoing a knot of their own making—unravelling that slutty ache inside your girlfriend—your good girl—fucking her and stretching her, making her eyes roll to the back of her head and her mouth to drop open in a silent scream.

"So good—so fucking good—just like that—mmmm-MMMPH!"

You breathe it in—your mouth on hers, her cries dying in your throat—feeling her tighten, tense, release around your hand as her small, tight frame—her whole, amazing body—overwhelmed by just three fingers and a thumb.

It takes her like an eruption, a natural disaster—dancing along her skin, to her hips, her thighs, her ribs, her breasts—turning her into a shivering mess, leaving her limp beneath you.

"Fuh—"

You release her lips, watching her pant and quiver, her chest heave, her body spasm from the aftershocks of her climax.

Your hand is drowned in her heat, her juices sticking to your skin as you slowly draw your fingers out of her, glistening in the soft light of the room.

"Here, have a taste." You lift your hand to her face, tracing your sticky fingers along the seam of her mouth, smearing her juices over her soft, parted lips.

Chaewon's tongue darts out, welcoming your digits as you push inside her mouth. She sucks greedily, her tongue lapping your fingertips—she can't get enough of the taste of herself on you.

"Good girl," you say again, and again—she shivers.

The tremors of her orgasm start to fade, and you pull your fingers from her mouth—no longer lathered in her cum, but shiny with her spit.

You straighten, leaning back so you're on your knees, between Chaewon's spread legs. Her eyes follow your hand as it leaves her wrist, traveling up to the neck of your shirt, pulling it off your head and reuniting it with the growing pile of discarded clothing.

Her gaze wanders down, down your body, landing at your waist, at your pants, painfully stretching over your erection.

"Take it out for me, Chae," you instruct, unnecessarily—she's already there, licking her lips, quick at work. Practiced fingers pull down your sweatpants and set your cock free, letting it spring into view, hard and heavy, landing directly on her lips.

But she doesn't get the chance to take it in her mouth, to swirl her tongue around the tip and suck you like she's so clearly been dying to—you have her by the hair before she can dive on your cock, to take it down her throat. It's harsh, it's sudden, it elicits a startled groan from her throat—but it makes it clear that this is not going to be the usual 'good little girl' kind of night.

"No," is all you have for her. You're on the edge—you've been on the edge ever since she pleaded for you—you’re done with the foreplay; you're done with the teasing. Fucking Chaewon senseless. That’s all there is now—fucking her hard and fast.

You pull her up by her hair and your mouth is back on hers, pushing and pulling, tongue in her throat, tasting her—tasting her nectar on her lips—dominating her, her own tongue dancing and wrapping around yours, her teeth grazing your bottom lip.

Your other hand finds its way to her chest, squeezing her breast in your palm, feeling the weight of it, the softness of her skin, the hardened peak of her nipple against your palm. There's not enough time—you want to shove your face between them, taste her nipples, feel them roll between your teeth, give them the attention they deserve.

But instead, you're pulling back on her hair again, gritting your teeth. "Turn around. Bend over."

There's no hesitation, no protest from her—Chaewon's a good girl, and good girls do as they’re told. She rolls onto her hands and knees, her ass in the air—she's presenting herself to you: an offering, a prize, a fucking goddess on a platter. Her spine arches as she looks back at you over her shoulder, the soft curve of her cheeks begging for you to take it.

You startle her, taking her by the hips, pulling her back to you so that when you lean in, your mouth is pressed to her ear, and your cock is twitching against the waiting, wanting, folds of her lower lips. "I'm going to make you feel it," you whisper. "Every part of you, understand?"

Chaewon nods, but it's not enough—not for what you have in store.

"I don't just want a nod, I want to hear you say it. I want you to tell me how good it feels while I'm fucking you—I want to hear it all."

"O-Okay.” She’s tense, you can see it, like a coil winded up in her body, but she's eager, so fucking eager, been waiting for this for far too long—"make me scream for you—FUCK!"

Chaewon's true to her word—she shrieks as you bury yourself deep inside her, is undone by your cock—as ready and wet as she is for you, she's still so incredibly tight, needing you to stretch her, fill her, own her.

But it's not enough—you’re not going to ease her into this, to the pleasure ripping through your bodies, not going to let this moment breathe.

As soon as you've sunk into her, given her every inch that her needy little pussy could take, you're backing up, sliding your stained shaft right out of her cunt before slamming back forward.

She's crying out, making barely intelligible sounds, as you’re digging your fingers into that tiny waist, holding her by her hips as you crash into her, feeling it all—the unfathomable heat, the tightness, the wetness, the way she clenches around you with each thrust—again and again and again.

"Words, Chae," you remind her, needing more from than just the sounds of her sweet, sweet agony, and the slapping of your hips against her ass cheeks. "I want words."

"Y-yes—fuh—fuck—YES!" One-syllable noises are all that Chaewon can manage to start—all you can fuck out of her—but with each thrust, she's getting better, getting bolder. "It feels so good, so hard, so big—God, so deep—you've never—I've never been fucked like this…"

"More." It's addictive, hearing her talk like this, knowing every word that comes out of her mouth is the absolute fucking truth—the proof is in how she's shaking beneath you, how she drips around you, how her fingers claw into the sheets, trying her best to hold on. “Tell me more.”

"Y-you're going so fast—so fucking hard!" Mindless, stream-of-consciousness, fuck-drunk ramblings spill from her lips—she's begging, cooing, whimpering as you mercilessly fuck her, making her divine tits swing below her, her ass ripple with each collision. "Making me so wet—making me so fucking wet—I can't even—can't think straight—just your cock—your fucking cock!"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it Chae?" You hiss, over the sounds of the headboard slamming against the wall, the bed creaking beneath you, and her moans—oh those moans. "This is how I'm going to fuck you from now on—however I want, wherever I want, whenever I want."

"Yes-yes—this is what I want—what I fucking need. To be fucked like this—pounded—broken—so fucking sensitive." The words come so easily from her lips, straight from the pleasure centres of her brains and to your ears. "I deserve this—I've been so good—haven't I? Aren't I your good girl—please tell me I'm your good girl—please?"

"You're my good girl, Chae, you’re my perfect little slut," you acquiesce, and she cries out in relief, her body shaking under the weight of your words—she leans into your touch, your control, your cock. "And good girls get what they fucking deserve."

Another thrust has Chaewon bowing her head down to offer more of herself to you, to give you a better angle to pump her harder, deeper, laying her cheek on the bed and turning her face so you can see that blissful grin on her face, see her lips mouth your name like a prayer.

It's so perfect—she's so fucking perfect—so impossibly tight, a ridiculously wet dream of a cunt—"all yours, all yours"—so aching for you to fuck her straight into the mattress—"I can't take it"—so needy for you—"use me"—so hungry for you—"more—please—I need it."

You're giving in—giving long, intense strokes—you're consumed by it, by her, by how every lovely curve and tensed muscle of her immaculate body is doing its best to take you, to please you, to give you a fraction of the ecstasy that’s breaking her into a million tiny, euphoric pieces.

"God, I love it—love your cock—pounding me—fucking me—hurting me—I can't even think—GOD!" She's doing her best to form coherent sentences, but it's futile, she's slipping—you're not even sure if she's aware of what she's even saying anymore—it's just raw, unfiltered need.

This is going to be a problem—you're never going to be able to go back. Not when she's so needy for you—so needy to be filled by you, so needy to hear your praise as she takes your cock, so full of nothing but words of thanks for how roughly you're treating her, how you're completely ruining her—"thank you—thank you—thank you for fucking me so good."

And then you're falling, a deep, sharp thrust and you’ve sent her forward—her knees give in first, her elbows buckle. She's taking you with her, pulling you by the cock still lodged deep in her cunt. You catch yourself before your face hits the bed, one hand on the mattress, the other still wrapped around her waist.

It does little to slow you down—just gives you a better vantage point to fuck her deeper into the mattress—"yes—yes—fuck—fuck—" —to run your hand up her body and seize her by her tits, so ripe and full and yours to squeeze and twist and tease— "touch me—hurt me—it's all yours—all fucking yours."

And you do—oh, you do—you take her by the tits, feeling the soft flesh of her breasts give way to your grip, roll her nipple between your thumb and forefinger—so sensitive, so responsive. She's lost in it, so happy in the pain and pleasure of your touch—you're leaving another mark—and she cries, she curses, she clenches around you, she joins her hand over yours and pushes you for more, needing more of the loving sting you're giving her.

She’s pulsing on your shaft—walls tightening and quivering—she's so close, so fucking close to cumming—and your body responds, your cock thickens, your strokes powerful, purposeful. "I can't—I can't—baby, please—please—please—"

"You're going to cum for me now, aren't you?" You ask, like it's a question, like you can't see the tension building in her body, can’t see how she's holding her breath and gritting her teeth—it's so fucking obvious she's about to explode.

"Yes—yes—I'm about to—about to—FUCK! I can't fucking take this anymore!"

You take her by the throat—twisting her face so you can see it—you need to see it—need to see the moment she breaks for you. "Look at me," you demand—her eyes rolling up to meet yours, all teary and flawless and beautiful— "look at me when I make you cum."

"God yesssss," Chaewon gurgles, shivers, quakes, "please—please—I'm cumming—I'm cumming— I'm cumming on your fucking cock—OH FUCK!"

Your name leaves her lips in a long, symphonic, slurred cry—and she cums—not in that lovely, beautiful way you've seen her orgasm dozens of times before—this is overpowering, consuming, violent—a million tiny deaths—one magnum opus—sculpted by the Gods and utterly ruined in all ways possible, reduced once again to nothing but a mess of quivers and mewls and moans—pushed over the edge by your cock, forcing her to gush down her thighs.

She's clenching and wringing and doing everything she can to bring you with her—"God—so fucking good—I’m cumming so hard—GOD! I just need—I want it—please give it—give me your cum—fill me with it—do whatever you want to me just give it to me!"

Her eyes are open again—she's inflicted with the same curse as you—she needs to see it, see the look in your eyes as you fill her, finally claim her in her entirety as yours, finally join and become undone in the same preciously brutal ways.

"Keeeep going—cum in me—cum in me—" It’s becoming a mantra now—three short words—as if there was any other option, as if she had any choice. As much as you want to hold on, to drag this out, to savour every second of this chaos—fucking her silly, viciously, tight pussy choking your cock, she won't stop, refuses to— "cum in me—cum in me—cum in me -"

"You want it? You need it? Does your cunt need my cum?"

"Y-yes, please—fuck—fill me up—fuck me up—fill—me—fucking—PLEASE!"

She's a vision, a goddess, she's yours, she's—"Fuck, Chae, god-fucking-take-it!"—she's taking your cum like the fucking slut she is.

God, it feels dizzying, a high so perfect it must be illegal, making your vision dark and your ears ring—the only thing tethering you to the Earth itself is the feeling of her burning hot cunt, the cunt you're fucking like its only purpose in this world is to make your cock feel good.

You’re speeding towards the final stretch now—hard and rough and somehow lasting forever but ending far too soon. Nothing matters except for her exceptionally tight hole, taking you—all of you, everything you have—and you’re clinging onto her—her tits, her throat—you’re bruising and choking her, your body crushing her into the bed, and she's still screaming your fucking name like she's so damn grateful to you for treating her like she deserves.

And then, you let go.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby, oh my fucking God," Chaewon groans, "It's so much—you're filling me up— oh, fuck, oh, fuck, OH FUCK!"

It’s a car crash, a pressure valve opening, it’s too fucking much—you can’t hold back—she can’t possibly take anymore.

It burns through you both—the first, the second, the third—rope after rope after rope of cum firing into her sore, well-fucked cunt, filling it completely to the brim. All the lust, all the tension, everything, all at once, released at once in a tidal wave of white into Chaewon's swollen, sopping wet pussy.

“SO GOOD—SO FUCKING FULL!”

One final thrust—one shared cry—like nothing you’ve ever felt before—like you’re being torn apart and reassembled, piece by piece—and you collapse into her, your bodies melting into one— boneless and shaking in the aftermath of it all.

Chaewon’s cumdump of a pussy is still twitching around you—still begging for more, milking your cock even though it’s already given everything it can, every drop it has—making it impossible for you to pull out without feeling like you're leaving a part of yourself behind.

Eventually—when the numbness subsides and you're able to move again—you slide off her, onto your side, slipping your spent cock out of her well-fucked pussy. It's an image that you burn into core of your brain—her ass in the air, your cum dripping from her, the puddle of you leaking from her glistening folds and pooling on your ruined bedsheets.

"So good... so good..." Chaewon's slurring, drifting—fucked out of consciousness—already lost in some blissful, post-orgasmic dream.

That's where you follow her, exhaustion seeping into every bone in your body, and you're slipping down, down and away into that heavenly oblivion.

-

When you awake, Chaewon's curled into you—your chest is her pillow, your arms her blanket. She's still (thankfully) naked—your cum drying on her thighs, and she's awake, lazily drawing circles with her finger around your heartbeat.

"Hey," you say, kissing the top of her head, getting her attention.

She looks up at you—God, she's so fucking beautiful—a soft smile on her lips. "Hi."

"That was..." You dare to start, but the words catch in your throat.

"Perfect," Chaewon finishes for you, "so fucking perfect."

"Are you sure? I got lost in the moment there, Chae, I—" The ghost of an apology is on your lips, but Chaewon's eyes widen, and she slaps a hand over your mouth.

"Don't," Chaewon stops you, "don't ruin it with an apology. I wanted that. Needed it. More than I thought, I guess. It was amazing."

You look down at her, so small in your arms, searching her face for any hint of doubt or regret, but all you can find is perfect contentment.

And she's smiling, so sweetly, so happily. So Chaewon. The slutty cum dumpster, the adorable princess—the woman of your dreams.

She’s giggling still, tracing wider patterns on your chest, her breath warm against your skin. "You were incredible," she presses her nose into your neck and inhales deeply. "I never knew you had that in you."

"I didn't either," you admit, stroking her hair, looping strands between your fingers. "I had no idea how much I'd like it—how good it would feel. I mean I love getting to hold you like this—hugging you and kissing you, but—"

"It's nice to not have to treat me like I'm made of glass, isn't it?" She finishes. A beat passes, before Chaewon tables her final request. "You know, that thing you called me, while we were..."

Her voice trails off, and she's blushing now—the kind of blush that makes you want to kiss her, kiss it off her cheeks, kiss her until she's blushing all over again. "I think I called you a lot of things that probably shouldn't be repeated outside of this room." You say, and she’s laughing, slapping your chest lightly.

"You know what I'm talking about," she says. "Call me it again. Please? Can you?"

You laugh, bending down so you can steal a kiss—as light and sweet as she is—but it’s still far, far shorter than you'd like.

She's pouting, doe-eyes wide and hopeful—so Goddamn adorable—and you can't resist, after all—it's always best to give your girlfriend exactly what she wants.

"My good girl," you murmur into her ear, "my perfect little slut."

[justthatspiffy]

!!!!!!!!!!!!

[text-ink-png]

The hero looked around the alley and startled as they saw two amber eyes staring right back at them. They cautiously backed away, hoping that the villain would at least give them a chance to explain.

"I've been waiting." The low rumble of the villain's voice brought goosebumps on the hero's arms. They were truly in trouble. The villain's usual jovial mood and happy demeanor were nowhere to be seen.

Oh no, they were truly in trouble.

"Look, I-" The hero fumbled, wringing their fingers nervously. "I know I messed up. It was just too nerve-wracking. Going against my mentor...I tried but honestly the pressure caught up to me. I was thinking that I was all alone but I was still trying, but then the media showed up which meant it was live and everyone was-"

"How is your leg?"

"Huh?" The hero stopped blabbering and looked at villain's face. The villain's face did not give away any signs of anger but it almost seemed...worried? No, the shadows from the street lights must be messing up villain's face.

"Your leg. I watched the broadcast and you took a terrible fall. Let me look at it."

The hero hurriedly stepped back as the villain reached for their leg. Was this some other kind of punishment for messing up? The hero had often heard rumors of the villain's brutal methods. Was this one of the tortures?

"Hero" The Hero stilled, shaking in fear as the Villain stood in front of them, daring them to take another step. They flinched as the villain bent down to observe their leg. They felt a warm hand rest on their knee. Oh lord, were they going to snap their knee?

The hero relaxed as they felt warmth seep into their leg from villain's palm. Right, they had heard about villain's ability to heal. The warmth seemed to be pressing a comforting hand to their back as if beckoning them to take rest.

The hero felt their body hit the ground but felt no pain. No, they felt as if they were in heaven, floating through clouds while angels sang in their ears.

One such angel looked down at them and shook their head. They ruffled hero's hair and whispered, "What am I supposed to do with you?" The angel was truly beautiful.

Oh, the hero must be in some kind of trouble.

[sweetpascal]

— 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫

pairing: general marcus acacius x fem!reader

summary: unsure of whether or not your husband is alive leading his army's invasion, the only method of tranquility is by reaching into your past memories as a necessary distraction.

warnings: MINORS DNI, wife!reader and husband!marcus, mentions of TW: miscarriages, (probably incorrect) roman history, mentions of TW: blood and death, making love, sweet nicknames (carissima/me - dearest, dulcissima/me - sweetest, meum cor - my heart, melculum - my little honey), marcus has a big dick, creampies, tender softness, probably ooc marcus ??

wc: 4.4k

notes: oh booyyyyyyy. so we all collectively agree that general marcus is scrum-diddly-umptious ?? all the pics, videos, and gifs dropping does not ease my obsession. so.. i turned my obsession into a work of art for all of you to read ^.^ idk squat about the roman times, but i did do my best to research !! divider from @saradika-graphics 🤍

main masterlist

follow @sweetpascal-notifs for future fic updates.

It seems like the days have been mixing in with each other the more time has passed. Unsure of which day started and which day ended, you lost track of time. It had been one month, maybe two at this point. The sun rose and set, the moon and stars following in tandem. It was almost like a dance. It was amusing, to say the least. It reminded you of your relationship with your husband. With the light color dress wraps and delicate gold jewelry you'd wear around your neck compared to his permanent scowl, it's clear to civilization who's the sun and who's the moon. But you both complement each other in more ways than one.

You're able to calm him down with a simple touch on his arm, causing his boisterous voice to quiet down and his heart to steady its pace. Marcus' presence looming behind you around others, everyone already knows how dangerous he can become if someone even looks at his wife the wrong way.

Now, without his presence and his voice and his touch, nothing feels real. Pacing around in the dining hall of your home, you rubbed your hands tenderly over your barely-there baby bump over your soft blue wrap dress that Marcus surprised you with the last time he had come home from a previous battle for more land. He had won, of course, because General Marcus Acacius never loses. The mere thought of him losing a battle led by him with his army in tow is one of your greatest fears as his wife.

Staying inside your home and wallowing in your fears was no good for you and your unborn child. You couldn't go through the stress of worrying after your husband and deal with another heartbreaking loss alone. The night that Marcus had come back, you had broken down in front of him, shakily telling him through your thick tears that you had lost your son.

"A son?" He had quietly asked you, his eyes wide and heartbreaking.

"The teller that settles by the river," you told him with a broken voice. "She had confirmed it with her readings."

You remember it clearly as day; the look on his face equivalent to that of a broken man. You had choked on your tears, begging for his forgiveness for not being more careful, for not being a dutiful mother that was supposed to protect their child. You had knelt down in front of him, grabbing his knees and pleading to him and the gods for forgiveness and punishment, your hands pressed together in a prayer.

"Carissima," he had whispered quietly to you, slowly getting down onto his knees to remove your tight hold on his dirtied pteruges. His hands, trembling and unsteady, tenderly hold your cheeks to look into your heartbroken eyes. "I shall never strike a hand upon you, need you deserve it or not. I shall never lay blame on something the gods have brutally stolen from us. Oh, my dearest wife." His last whisper had you gripping onto his arms and crying your heart out into his shoulder. He said nothing more, nothing else. On the ground that day, all he did was hold you, and that was more than what you needed.

Breaking out of that distressing memory, you busied yourself with around-the-house distractions. In your hands was a handmade wicker basket you had purchased at one of the markets. The owner was a sweet, older woman that knew of your reputation amongst the others. She always treated you with kindness and looked at you with excitement every time you came by and not fear. She also gifted you a handmade blanket sewn with intricate patterns of the moon and sun.

"I gift this to you as a thank you for your kindness," she had said, pushing the blanket further into your hands when you had protested. She lay a wrinkly finger against her lips and drooped her eye to a wink.

Stepping outside with the wicker basket in your arms, you traveled a short distance to a small pond with many bushes, trees, and delicate flowers all around. This was your happy place. And this was also where you and Marcus had made love for the first time so long ago. The tree, the rock, the patch of grass. All of it held a distinct memory of your first time. Thinking back to it brings a smile to your lips.

"Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me to stop right now and I shall go back to where I rest and I will not pursue you any longer," Marcus had told you breathlessly against your jaw. He had you laid on the soft grass underneath the moon, the light shining against the pond in a way that makes the gentle movements look like glitter. Your dress was hiked up around your hips as he rested heavily between your trembling thighs, your hands squeezing on his strong biceps that flexed in response to your sizzling touch.

"Marcus," you sighed prettily in his ear, and it sounded like the sweetest song he has honor of ever hearing. "My need for you has not gone away. It will not go away unless you take me right here, under the moon and stars, until I'm singing for you in pleasure."

The look in his eyes was that of desperate hunger and wanton need. When he had slid himself into your cunt for the first time, all of your prayers to the gods have been finally answered. Marcus was made to be yours. And you were made to be his. Hushed moans and frantic thrusts, Marcus fucked like how others perceived himself – like a barbarian. Some women would disagree and find it appalling and dirty, but it was perfection. He wasn't scared to touch you. He touched you as though if he were to let go you would float away, for he would no longer be able to taste you on his tongue or feel your tight warmth wrapped around his thick cock.

A touch to your shoulder had you gasping and dropping the basket onto the ground. You spun around and laid a hand on your chest and one on your bump, staring at the poor maid that scared you accidentally.

"I deeply apologize for frightening you, miss," she stares at you with her hands up in defense as though she was staring at a frightening animal backed into a corner. "General Marcus has arrived and he asks for your presence in your bedroom."

"No, no, it's quite alright, dear. My head was in the clouds again," you offer her a gentle smile and a brief laugh, laying a hand lightly on her shoulder to ease her worries. "And Marcus, is he...?"

The young maid recognized your worry and shook her head as an answer to your unspoken question. You hand her the wicker basket of plucked fruits from the bushes and politely tell her to wash and ready them, and to bring them to your bedroom when the task is done. She nodded and hurried off immediately.

You carefully, but also hurriedly, made your way into your home. Nodding and giving polite smiles to the people inside, you walk up the spiral marble stairs. When you reached the top, there stood a statue of yourself sitting atop a stone with a statue of hour husband on his knees and his lips pressed to your knees. There were intricate details in the statue, like of Marcus' fingers gripping your thighs or the soft rolls of your body. Your husband preferred a large home such as this for his growing family. You preferred something quainter and more personal, but what your husband says, goes. You recognized his large, dirty footprints leading to your bedroom, another young maid already on her knees scrubbing the stains.

"Aureia, there's no need for that," you tut softly at the young girl, and she looks up at you with wide eyes. "Leave that alone for now, alright? As for this moment, will you please gather the others and bring pails of hot water for a bath?"

"Right away," she nodded and hurried off. It brings a smile to your face at how eager the young maids are to please. Unlike the other men and women that have maids in their homes, you treated yours like people. They respect you and in return, you respect them. Marcus used to disagree until he remembered how you grew up when it was just you and your widowed mother, along with the reputation of being poor. Realizing that you see yourself in these young maids, your husband made it a point to allow you to be in charge of them and do whatever you see fit. Having that much power can be overwhelming, only because of the fear of having your kind heart be taken advantage of. But those that work for and with you know to never cross you, for they'll have to deal with the consequences your husband has waiting for them.

When you entered your private bedroom, there he sat, still dressed from head to toe in his armor. He sits with his back facing the door, his sights focused on the large window that overlooks the garden which circles around the empty thermae. You slowly move around the bed and finally stand before him, essentially blocking his view of the window. Marcus doesn't look up at you just yet. So, you stay silent and let him do what he needs to, let him think what he needs to think.

His hands, still caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood, move up to your stomach. Your bump is within his line of sight. Both of his hands rest on either side, feeling the firmness and shape of the bump. You watch as his eyes shut and his jaw clenches. His face was also caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood. The ends of his hair are curled with sweat from the heat of his long journey back home to his family. Marcus says nothing when you stroke his jaw silently. Neither of you register the door opening and four maids coming in one by one to empty two pails each of hot water into the tub that sits in the corner of the room. They know better than to interrupt.

When the door shuts, Marcus moves to rest his head against your bump. His ear is pressed into your soft flesh through the dress adorning your body. He can faintly hear the thumping of your heart and that brings him back down to earth, back home to you. Your hands, warm and gentle, card through his messy, graying curls. Damp with dirt and sweat, you don't care. Feeling him right here, right now, was all that mattered.

"It's over," he finally speaks, his voice rough and low. His hands move down to find a home on your wide hips, fingers just barely digging into the shape. "The war is over. I made sure of it." And he leaves it at that.

Your eyes shut and you let out a sigh of mixed relief and heartache. You couldn't imagine what your husband had to go through, as a leader, to make sure that he and his army of men make it out alive. You couldn't imagine the number of bodies that are lying out there, hundreds of miles away, torn apart and bled out, mangled flesh and bone. You couldn't imagine your husband possibly being one of them. Bending down as best as you could, you tenderly wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and kissed the back of his head. You briefly sniffed his hair and pulled back.

"Let's get you inside the bath, hm?" You whispered softly, hands lovingly scratching at his scruffy jaw as you pulled his head up to look into your eyes.

When he stands, you almost forgot how imposing he was. His height was a strong factor. The bloodied armor he wears makes him look much broader and more dangerous. The exhausted look on his face makes him look much more mean – evil, even. But he's neither of those things, at least not to you. He stands as still as a tree as you begin to unclip and pull off his armor one by one. From the thick leather chest plate bound with protective metal underneath, all the way down to the thick leather arm-wear covering his forearms. Unsheathing his sword from its belt, you unclip that from around his waist as well. Having done this a million times, it's muscle memory.

He stands before you, naked, dirty, and exhausted. You reach behind your neck and slowly untie your dress wrap. It pools at your feet, your naked body now on display for him to see after months apart. Marcus' eyes take in every detail. The delicacy of your collarbones, your perky breasts, the curve of your growing belly, the soft curls of your pubic hair, those thighs that Marcus loves being in between, all the way down to the dangling anklet he gifted you.

"Come on," you whisper softly and take his hand to lead him to the filled tub. Steam sits above the water and Marcus' aching muscles scream out to it.

He enters first, hissing at first from the heat but then moaning gruffly once he sinks further into the hot water. Almost immediately, his sore muscles begin to relax. He could fall asleep right this instant. He feels a gentle push on his shoulder. He scoots forward and allows you to enter behind him.

"What are you doing, dear wife?" He doesn't hear an answer to his question. He's about to turn his body, but then he feels your hands massaging his tender scalp and washing his dirty hair. His eyes shut almost instantly, and he groans huskily with parted lips.

You wanted to laugh at his reaction but decided against it. Marcus never had time to relax and wind down. He was always on his feet, always discussing the next steps of battle, always readying his army men with hardcore training. It pained you to see him like this, especially at a distance. He never wanted you around to witness his leadership. Not wanting to induce stress onto you early on in your pregnancy, not wanting a repeat of your last pregnancy, he had given you strict instructions to let him handle everything.

"Meum cor, you do so good with taking care of your husband," Marcus quietly tells him, his entire body shuddering when your nails tenderly scrape the sensitive parts of his scalp. "I know the other men are envious of the treatment I receive from such a divine woman."

"Mm, I know, my love," softly laughing at his goading. You reached over the side of the tub to grab a small wooden bowl. Using that to pour water onto his soapy curls, you gently tipped his head back and did just that. You kissed the side of his head and gently cleaned away the dirt and grime on his beautifully tan skin. You paid extra attention by lovingly kissing the scar on his right cheek.

For the next hour, you put all your focus into washing his body. No longer was he a filthy barbarian. No, he was now your clean, fresh smelling husband. His damp hair curled elegantly behind his ears and neck. You had maneuvered onto his lap to focus on his front. There were more prominent bruises on his chest and arms, as well as some cuts that have begun its healing process. You gave him a small pout, to which he tuts and lovingly cups your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"I could ride into the sun and still come back to you in one piece, meum cor," he tells you quietly, moving his face much closer and shifting you to sit comfortably on his lap. "No man, no sword, no army could ever strike me down and take me from you."

Holding onto his scruffy jaw and peering into those dark chocolate eyes of his, he looks at you with such tenderness that no stranger will ever witness. Your bump is resting against his own stomach, and he feels every breath you exhale. Heads lean closer, his aquiline nose resting on the side of yours, lips just a hair away. There's distant chatter outside in the gardens, the curtains swaying gently from the warm breeze coming through the open windows. The water in the tub is still warm and steaming, the clearness of it was now murky from the dirt you cleaned from his aching body. You have half a mind to drain the tub and call out for more pails of fresh hot water, but you're so comfortable and safe in the arms of your husband.

"Do you recall the night I took you underneath the stars?" Marcus asks you huskily, both hands gripping your hips, strong fingers digging into your plushy flesh. He forces your hips closer to his, thick thighs tensing underneath your own. "The way you begged me to keep going, even when it began to rain down upon us."

Your lips parted to elicit a soft gasp when you felt his hardness on your thigh, thickening and rising with each second that passed. You do remember that night like it was yesterday. The soft rain pattering on your naked, writhing bodies. Your nails had dug deep into his skin to keep him from moving away. You had cried out to the gods for more, more, more.

"I do believe I may have scars from those nails of yours," Marcus joked lightly against your jaw, pressing a kiss to the bone with his plush lips.

Giggling quietly in his ear, you held his head close to your chest as his kisses traveled south. "I do believe you're creating tales, carissime."

He hums disapprovingly, holding you tighter on his lap when you shift. The steam from the water made his skin feel sticky and warm. You tasted salt on your tongue when you kissed below his ear. It was intoxicating, to say the least. Tasting him, trailing your tongue all over his molten hot skin, licking over his scars and freckles. There was a quiet minute when you both looked into each other's eyes again. Marcus can see the light hasn't died. He can see the adoration you have for him in the way your pupils dilate, and breathing quicken. And you can feel the love Marcus has for you in the way his eyes get slightly wide as he takes in your features, most likely mapping out which ones he hopes your unborn child takes from the both of you.

"Take us to bed, meum cor," you beg him. No longer able to keep looking at your handsome husband and not do anything about it, you leave it all up to him.

Without another word, Marcus stands with a hoarse grunt. With one strong arm wrapped tight (but not too tight) around your waist and his other hand under your thigh to keep you up and against his body, he steps over the tub and makes his way over to the bed. Neither of you care if your wet bodies are soaking the sheets. As he lays you down and rests on top of you, nothing else matters at this moment.

"Melculum, you look like a goddess with the sunlight kissing your naked skin," he whispers to you, lowering his head to kiss at your breasts and collarbones. You gasped and arched your back, further pressing your breasts into his mouth, to which he sucks a sensitive nipple between those lips.

Marcus rests on his forearms on either side of your head with his big hands tenderly cupping the crown. Your feet teasingly trail up and down the backs of his thighs, and you feel his hardness twitch between your bodies. Whispering his name in a needy voice, he looks up at you and catches the look in your half-lidded eyes. The flush on your skin makes your skin glow. He would never disrespect his gods and goddesses, but Aphrodite does have a competition on her hands.

Feeling too eager, you take charge and yank his neck down to finally kiss him. After months of not feeling his body, hands, and lips on yours, you powered all your emotions in this kiss. It was messy and desperate and hard. Tongue, teeth, garbled whimpers and heavy breaths. Marcus suckled at your bottom lip, letting it snap back against your teeth to then suck and bite at your neck. Your hips were shifting to slot his hard cock between the silky lips of your wet cunt. Grinding up and down, the thick vein that rests on his hardness glides easily against your swelling clit.

"Marcus," you weep quietly in his ear. "Oh, my husband. I need you more than life itself. Oh, you're the bravest, strongest soldier known to man. You're so... powerful, so dangerous. You keep your family and your people safe, my love." Saying this all while you're grinding your sweet cunt up and down the length of his hardness has Marcus growing erratic by the second.

He looks down between your bodies. Your cunt lips open like the blooming petals of the sweetest flower. The soft dark curls of your pubic hair rubbing against his own. Your small belly bump that keeps your unborn child safe and sound. Marcus uses his thumb to guide himself inside your cunt, breathing shallowly when the warm tightness sucks him in, inch by inch. Your mouth falls open to let out quiet, needy moans.

"There we go, melculum," Marcus grunts lowly in your ear, lowering his hips further down into yours and his thick cock slides deeper inside your leaking hole. The heat, wetness, and tightness of your cunt has him spiraling already. The knot in the pit of his stomach further unraveling the deeper he gets. "You were made for me," he breathes deeply, the heat of his breath fanning over your sensitive neck.

When he starts fucking into you, he was mindful to not rest his entire weight on your belly. He repositioned himself in a way that had his back curving to drive his hips deeper, faster, and harder into your own. The action had you arching and gasping. Your soft breasts and feet bounced gently from the movements. Marcus lovingly strokes down your temples with his thumbs and kisses you hard once again. Your fingers curl into his hair, now drying and curling beautifully. He looks like a god. It makes you want to cry. But then, his cock starts punching against the one spot that makes you scream.

"Oh! Marcus!" You yelped, eyebrows furrowed and lifted up as your mouth fell open and moans started pouring out. "Right there! Right... there. Ri-ight the-ere!"

He slows his thrusts until he's grinding so deep and so slow. Your moans turned into whimpers. He was able to hear the sloppy noises of your cunt soaking around his hardness. He grins down at you, his dimple deepening when you twitch and writhe.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your jaw. "So ethereal underneath me, writhing and begging for my cock." Marcus sharply drives his cock into your cunt unexpectedly. You let out a long, wanton wail that has his grin widening. He does it again, and again, and again. It was driving you absolutely crazy.

Your slick is most likely dripping out of your hole and onto Marcus' balls which slap against you. You can practically feel the weight of them, so heavy and full of two months' worth of cum. He drags his cock in and out of you slowly now, allowing you to feel every vein and every inch. Your thighs spread wide for him, eager for more. He answered your silent pleas and fucked you at a quicker pace again.

"Wrap your arms around me, Marcus. Oh, please, please, please!" You sobbed quietly, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. He follows immediately. His strong arms wrap under your back and he rests some of his weight onto your front. Your thighs widen to accommodate his size, allowing his cock to nudge deeper in a way that steals your breath. "Just... like... that," you whimpered after each thrust Marcus gives.

He feels dizzy and overwhelmed in a good way. The smell of the homemade soap on your skin, the softness and warmth of your naked skin against his, your sweet moans like a pretty song in his ears, the slick tightness of your cunt sucking him in repeatedly. Feeling, smelling, and hearing all of these at once was enough to finally let him spill out his moans without holding back. His chest vibrates against your bare breasts with each grunt that passes his kissed-raw lips. The vibrations on your sensitive nipples tickled you erotically.

"You are intoxicating," he moans heavily against your sticky skin, his scruff scraping deliciously and his lips and teeth leaving little love bites. "Non possum satis de te." I cannot get enough of you.

With your eyes rolling back and your thighs trembling around his wide hips, you simply cannot control what your body does. Marcus catches you off guard by messily kissing you, his tongue intertwining with your own, tasting each other's saliva. The taste of him had you whining into his mouth. There was a faintness of wine on his tongue. Although you obviously couldn't drink while you bear his child, the lingering taste of it on your husband's tongue was enough to drive you wild. Your hands, originally placed on his shoulder blades, trail down to his tapered waist and finally cling onto his perky bottom. You squeeze the tender flesh and briefly dig your nails into the skin, feeling the muscles clench and unclench with every roll of his hips and cock driving into your cunt.

"Tu parum desperatus es, huh?" Marcus' voice sounded cocky and the grin on his face didn't help. You're a desperate little thing, huh?

One of the things that made your husband a respected leader was his arrogance was never wrongfully directed. He loved to gloat, about anything and everything. But when it came to you, his wife, his ego inflates to the point of popping.

That's when you felt it. The coil in the pit of your stomach gets tighter and tighter, forcing your gooey walls to twitch around Marcus' thickness. He moans lowly at the feeling of it. He hooks one of your thighs over his arm, bracing your knee into your chest to fuck you deeply. The position change had you shuddering, more slick leaking out and staining the sheets below your bodies.

"I'm... I'm... fuuuck!" With one final cry out to the gods, you scratched down Marcus' skin and braced yourself for impact.

Your orgasm washed over you like one of the strongest ocean waves known to man. Your body wouldn't stop twitching and writhing underneath his massive body. The squeezing tightness of your cunt wouldn't let your husband fuck you any longer. He drops down and lets out a final rough grunt before spilling inside of you. He has a entire body shiver as his cock twitches repeatedly, his thick cum spilling out every few seconds. It finally stopped after a whole minute; yes, you were counting. The tickle of his cum hitting you deep inside had you giggling drowsily.

"You should be thanking your husband for giving you a well-needed release, not laughing at him," he hums against your skin, the vibrations of his voice and bristles of his scruff tickling you further, causing you to laugh louder. He feels your belly jumping from your shaking body and he can't help but to smile.

Being in the arms of his wife after a long journey of war and death, there really is no place like home.

[leiandroid]

yakuza au

ok fam this au is now separated from my previous inohina yakuza/bratva au. had to fly the girls back to japan and they got a whole new backstory ! big wall of text incoming ↓↓↓

-- uchiha clan

a clan that was once powerful but was slowly eating itself from the inside. rife with internal conflict and distrust, key figures sought to strengthen the clan and each had an idea of how to bring about that change, though no two could come to an agreement on a single method. tensions amongst the ranks began to fracture the uchiha.

taking advantage of the power struggle, madara, with the hopes of seizing total control, ignites a spark that quickly turns into a bloodbath. many low level thugs employed by the uchiha flee the compound as each key figure and their loyal followers battle it out until so few are left standing it could barely be called a clan anymore.

the power vacuum left behind by the dissolution of the uchiha has created an extremely volatile environment in the crime world as different yakuza families seek to claim the uchiha’s previously held operations and territory.

-- hebi

sick of the endless politics and weakening bonds amongst the clan, sasuke left to forge his own path. as punishment for leaving the clan itachi takes his eye.

he had never expected that the power struggles within the uchiha would lead to a massacre. so when he heard about the bloodbath occurring inside the uchiha compound, he rushed home to save his parents from a grim fate. but was too late when he witnessed itachi kill them by his own blade.

sasuke quickly enacted revenge by killing itachi and when the dust settled and madara emerged as victor, sasuke turned his blade on him too and snuffed out the flame of the uchiha forever.

karin is an ex-cop that was the uchiha's informant within the police. she brokers deals and negotiations on behalf of sasuke. she is his mouthpiece, so to speak.

sasuke is also seeking two who were once allies/friends. suigetsu who had always dreamed to join the seven swordsmen's guild, and juugo a talented and brutal fighter who dominates the underground fighting scene.

together he hopes to form a small mercenary group for hire.

-- inoshikacho alliance / inoshikacho rengo

one of the first yakuza family alliances ever made going back generations. inoshin yamanaka, chosuke akimichi and shikanazai nara where the first of each clan to join the families into an alliance that has since become one of the strongest and long-lasting alliances in yakuza history.

at the age of 25 each member of the alliance is to have at least two children to ensure the next generation of the inoshikacho alliance grow up together and are trained to take on the mantle for the sake of the alliance's future. this also ensures that at least 3 generations are alive at any one time (if they don't meet an early grave that is).

the yamanaka run brothels, which act as a communication and information network. every girl is hand picked by ino or by trusted subordinates and trained in the art of seduction and information gathering. the yamanaka have large underground garden operations that cultivate plants for poisons with all kinds of effects and traceability, from the quick and painless to the slow and destructive.

akimichi control entertainment districts, money laundering operations and run the largest underground fighting scene. money flowing in and out of casinos and other avenues are fully controlled by the akimichi.

the nara are drug traffickers that control market price and distribution.

-- hyuuga clan / hyuuga kai

the strongest and most notorious yakuza in all of japan. their efficiency in all that they do make them a fierce clan. when the clanhead was found dead, many other groups thought this was finally the crack in the hyuuga shield and made moves to try and see if they could challenge their authority. but the second daughter stepped into place and ordered everyone in within a certain radius of the hyuuga estate dead.

if they thought hyuuga hiashi was a ruthless leader, hanabi, in one day alone, managed to put herself up as one of the deadliest and horrifying yakuza leaders in recent history.

their efficiency in the business and economics sector, as well as having ties within governmental and political bodies, makes them a very powerful clan with many branching factions reaching far and wide across the country.

someone, somewhere, always answers to a hyuuga.

-- neji hyuuga (tian)

after hizashi failed to protect the hyuuga leader's eldest daughter, he had to pay with his life in front of his only son.

watching his father commit seppuku and then swiftly beheaded by hiashi in front of the elders and close family, stuck with neji his whole life. he made a silent vow to exact revenge on hiashi. the bitterness in his heart made living amongst the hyuuga a slow acting poison. his hate for hiashi became stronger than his love for his father and he could never look upon a picture of hizashi anymore because his face was the face of his enemy.

neji bided his time for years and years until one fateful night he murdered hiashi in cold blood and fled the hyuuga estate. he made his way towards mainland china with some aid from a contact in the chinese triads. he disappeared for many years living amongst a guild of killers and started going by the name tian.

his next order of business was to find the abducted daughter that caused the death of his father and kill her himself.

-- hinata hyuuga (makoto)

the abducted hyuuga heir, taken from the hyuuga clan at a very young age. makoto lives her life as a simple woman, adopted by an elderly couple in the countryside, unaware of who she is or where she comes from.

when a 'chinese' man that bears an uncanny resemblance to her shows up at her cottage one day, calling her a name that does not belong to her, her life is flipped on its head and she finds herself plunged into the underbelly of society.

-- chinese triads / pirates

tenten is a weapons smuggler. though she is affiliated with the chinese triads, she smuggles and trades weapons for anyone that buys them, as her true loyalty is to money.

tenten's operations are done by sea and she has control over a small fleet of boats that answer to her. other than a port owned by the triads, she has claimed a small remote island as her home and base of operations.

she was also neji's contact that helped him sail the seas to mainland china after he murdered hiashi.

-- korean mafia

kiba is an animal trafficker. he acquires exotic animals for their ivory/fur/leather as well as selling them alive to the wealthy for their collections and keeps.

he has sold exotic birds to the yamanaka for their gardens. gathered all manner of cervidae antlers from around the world for the nara's collection. has captured the most venomous snakes known to mankind for several organisations, including certain individuals of the uchiha family. has also sold a number of species of animals for tenten for her island.

he is generally in good graces with all kinds of people/groups due to his connections and ability to acquire the even the most endangered and rare species in the world.

-- suna siblings

kankuro and temari own a small medical clinic. kankuro is a general family doctor. people come to him for check-ups and simple treatments and minor operations. temari handles all the logistics, and appears as the clinic's secretary. they have 3 nurses: matsuri, yukata, mikoshi.

kankuro is also a certified surgeon and operates on all sorts of gang members in the hidden basement operation room. matsuri has been trusted to help kankuro with these operations when needed. their practice offers complete discretion and the clinic has become off-bounds for any gang violence, even if rivalling groups happen to meet each other on the premises. they enter a truce for as long as they are within a certain radius of the clinic.

the brother and sister duo are a respected, unaffiliated group, and they also use their operations to get clues on their brother's whereabouts.

gaara was kidnapped at a young age and was tortured to the point that psychosis was induced. he is held in the same place as juugo and both are used in fights that many come to pay dearly to watch and bet on.

-- police

with his parents killed and taken from his home, naruto was raised by a gang who kidnaps boys to beat and torture, and train them into savage fighters. he dreamed for a life where he could see the sun and the sea, to eat a hot bowl of ramen once again.

when a police investigation finally bore fruit, naruto was rescued from the place. he was taken in by iruka, one of the cops, and eventually followed in his footsteps. he made a promise that he would find and save the redhead that had once clung to him down in those dark cells.

tsunade is chief of police. sai is a detective. lee is a chinese detective commissioned by the chinese police to go to japan to work alongside the tokyo metropolitan police dept to follow the chinese triads operations in japan. (or is it the hosting country that commissions?? anyway) a number of jonin from naruto are also police including: kakashi, yamato, genma, anko, etc etc.

-- sakura

sakura is the head of a large hospital that was once tied up with the uchiha who used her as an in for smuggling medical supplies. she was called upon as their emergency doctor to treat key figures when needed.

upon hearing about their massacre she felt total relief that the family threatening her life were finally gone. she thought she was free from them when a certain uchiha and 2 others showed up at her door demanding treatment.

she can't say she was happy to be back in such a predicament but it seemed that this uchiha didn't have a penchant for threatening her life as his family did. and for selfish reasons, she was okay with this arrangement.

-- the aburame

a family of assassins. their efficiency and untraceable methods make them a highly coveted group of hitmen whose services are sold to the highest bidder. the aburame have close ties with the yamanaka of the inashikacho alliance as they outsource some of their poisons from the yamanaka gardens.

even though the yamanaka, akimichi, and nara families formed an alliance generations ago, this agreement between the yamanaka and aburame remains a secret from the rest of the alliance.

the aburame are a completely neutral party and the yamanaka understands this. to pay for their secrecy and treachery towards their sworn brothers, the yamanaka accept that if a hit were ordered against their own, it wouldn't affect their business with the aburame.

if u read all this many hugs and kisses mwah

[naomiarai]

punishment !

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

sex with your tutor

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

➤ PAIRING — tutor!taehyun × fem!reader

➤ GENRE — porn w/o plot

➤ WC — 0.8k

➤ WARNINGS — unprotected sex, manhandling, overstimulation, dom! tyun, sub reader, degradation, mean taehyun, per names, missionary, brat tamer tae,.

You think you’re floating when your supposed-to-be tutor pushes his cock far too deep inside you, your legs pressed tightly against your chest. This study session truly wasn’t supposed to turn out like this, but even the slightest bit of mischief never goes unnoticed by Taehyun. His method of punishment? Absolutely fucking the shit out of you. According to him, you weren’t concentrating enough, either rubbing your thighs together or staring for far too long at places you weren’t supposed to, and his fitting punishment was this.

Although you tried to argue back, it was of no use with him. He always got his way with you, and you'd be telling a big lie if you said you didn’t want this. So here you were now, back flat against the bed as Taehyun relentlessly rammed his cock into you, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust.

“Tae—! Ah- please s..s-slow down!!” you let out shakily, followed by a string of choked moans as he only pounded faster at your pleading. You think your fingers would leave imprints from how tight they were pressing into his biceps. Taehyun's palm slid over the soft bulge in your stomach, grinning at how you mewled each time he pressed on it.

“Should have listened, don’t you think?” he rasped, his hips crashing into yours with no pause. Tears cascaded down your face at his words, as you were in no state to answer him. You wailed at the sudden increase in speed, gripping onto him tighter, as if it would make him slow down. Despite the relentless pace, you still had the thought to give him a wrong answer. And that’s exactly what you did.

“Mm- n..no! I was listening just fine, fuck! Tae” you replied back with a pout present on your face, cockiness in your tone. Taehyun scoffed at you immediately, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. Did you really think talking back would do anything? If anything, you were most likely ensuring that the tight knot building up in your stomach wouldn’t be released any time soon.

Taehyun didn’t say anything; his thumb dug into the soft skin of your hips, dragging you closer. The pleasure building up was truly overwhelming, the fire burning inside you aching for release.

“Think...shit—! Think I’m gonna cum!” you whined out with cries, but just as you let it out, you felt the aching sensation die down. Taehyun had pulled out. You wanted to cry, having lost your chance to cum just from answering out of spite, something you knew you shouldn’t do.

“Stupid fucking girl! what did I tell you about talking back?” he chided, a dark glint in his eyes as he watched your frustration. “You don’t get to cum until I say so”

“Tae, p-please! ” you pleaded, your voice a broken whisper, your body trembling with unfulfilled desire. But your begging only seemed to fuel his sadistic pleasure.

With deliberate slowness, Taehyun traced his fingers down your stomach, the feather-light touch sending shivers up your spine. “You really think you deserve it?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears. “I’m sorry, I... I’ll listen, I promise.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “We’ll see about that.” And without warning, he thrust back into you, the sudden intrusion making you gasp. His pace was brutal, each stroke calculated to drive you insane with need.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body arching into his as you moaned loudly, unable to hold back. “Please, Tae, I need to cum! hnng—.. please...”

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your ear. “Not yet, baby. Not until you’ve learned your lesson”

Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, the knot in your stomach tightening unbearably. You could feel every inch of him, the way he filled you completely, the way he knew exactly where to touch to drive you wild. It was torture, exquisite and unrelenting.

“Tae, I... I can’t... please...” you sobbed, your voice breaking as the tears flowed freely.

He slowed his pace, his eyes locking onto yours, filled with an intensity that took your breath away. “You will, and you’ll fucking thank me for it”

With a final, powerful thrust, he sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You screamed his name, your vision going white as you cum, coating his dick in pure white. Taehyun didn’t stop, his movements carrying you through the overwhelming ecstasy, prolonging your release until you were a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him. Only then did he finally pull out, cumming all over your stomach and falling beside you, chest heaving

You lay there, panting and spent, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all. Taehyun’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Remember this the next time you think about disobeying me” he murmured, his voice a soft, dangerous promise.

[jwhitewolfbarnes]

You just wanted to rile him up. Make him ache a little, stop giving in so easily. Show him that his pouty face with those baby blues isn’t all powerful like he thinks it is. You’re starting to regret that a tiny bit.

“Right there, John,” you breathe out as he pumps his hips into yours at a steady pace. His reaction is immediate; his hand comes up to grasp at your throat- applying firm, delicious pressure. He forces you to look in his eyes, “Stop fucking calling me that.” Each word punctuated with a sharp, brutal thrust as he moves your legs higher up on his hips. Your mouth drops open in reaction to his bed-shaking movements. “C’mon pretty girl, ya know what I want to hear. Say it, c’mon baby,” he pants out, staring right into your wide eyed face.

Regret may have started to set in, but it hasn’t fully won you over. Another approach, maybe?

“ah fuck Johnny, feels so good,” you manage to stutter out as he continues his punishing pace. His eyes flash with something and you think you might have won this round… until he stops. He moves to pull out, but you snap your legs around his waist before he can make it out all the way. “no, no, no! please Johnny, I’m so close. Please don’t stop baby.”

He chuckles as he drops his hand from your throat and leans down to press his body almost completely against yours. He kisses you, such a filthy and desperate display. “oh, I’m sorry baby… ya close?” His voice is sickeningly sweet as he mocks you, “if ya knew how to act right, I’d give ya exactly what this pussy needs. but yer being a fuckin brat. I just want one thing from ya, thas it. Ya need ma cock so bad, yeah? Say it an I’ll give ‘im back.” He pulls back, pushing your legs off of his waist with an ounce of his obvious strength. His dick slips all the way out as he grits his teeth and you whine. He maneuvers your legs up, hooking one into the crook of his elbow and stretching it outwards. Those fucking blue eyes, clouded over with lust, roam over your entire body. He smacks the tip of his dick on your clit a few times, before smiling cruelly up at you.

“One word an I’ll fill ya up just like ya need. Only good girls get ta cum, wan’ be a good girl? What’s ma name?” Tears are slipping from your eyes from where you’ve been forced away from the cliff of your orgasm. This is decision time, give in to that pretty face and get fucked within an inch of your life? Or say nothing and be forced to watch him jerk off on your stomach before leaving you without orgasm? Pride be damned.

You take in a shuddering breath, reaching up to card your fingers through his shaggy mohawk. You drag him close enough to kiss, and he comes willingly because he knows the battle is over, victory is his. He grins devilishly, knowing his prize is right on the horizon. You brush your lips against his before locking eyes with him and practically purr out the magic words.

“Please make me cum, daddy.” Before you can even blink, he’s fully sheathed inside you. He’s gripping the fat of your thigh and stomach by the handful. Nonsensical praise and filthy dirty talk pour out of him as he watches every last jiggle of your body’s reaction to him fucking you. He may think he’s won this battle, and sure the round may be a point for John, but you also got exactly what you wanted.

Later after he’s thoroughly fucked you, and himself, into exhaustion, you lie there tucked into his side contemplating the best method of revenge. John is blissfully ignorant to your scheming mind as he runs his fingers delicately along the ridges and rolls of your back. He presses loving kisses into your hairline, content to spend the rest of his night tucked impossibly close to your plush body. Glancing up at his unfairly attractive face, an idea forms as your eyes roam the column of his love-bitten neck… seems it might be time to see how potent John’s power is when he’s finally put on a short leash…

a/n: sorry for the poor attempt at a scottish accent :/

[madbard]

While listening to Epic, I noticed an interesting pattern with how antagonists are portrayed, and how Odysseus’ interactions with them are coded.

In Epic, the monsters Odysseus faces are rarely fighting for their own sake. Polyphemus attacks Odysseus’ crew to avenge his sheep, and Poseidon destroys his ships as revenge for his son’s suffering. Similarly, Circe only threatens Odysseus to protect her nymphs. Odysseus does not kill any of these enemies, and while he is occasionally criticized for letting them go free, the overall implication is that he did the right thing by sparing them.

Then we hit the Thunder Saga, and Odysseus begins his arc as a ‘monster’ by killing the sirens. His actions here are brutal, and whether or not they are justified is, I think, up to the listener. However, it’s significant that the sirens are the first foes Odysseus faces on his journey who aren’t either defending or avenging what they love. They attack unprovoked, and while Odysseus’ method of execution is gory, he is never punished for it by other characters within the narrative. Apollo is the only one to protest, and even he is swayed easily when Athena says (among other things) that the sirens were “trying to do him worse.” The sirens attacked first, and while Odysseus’ response was ‘monstrous,’ his crew obeyed his commands and he was not challenged or ostracized for giving said commands. He is only treated as a monster when he yields to Scylla, who also attacked without provocation.

Thus, in Epic, the monsters fighting to protect or avenge their loved ones are protected by the very story - killing them may be more convenient, but it isn’t the answer. However, the monsters who attack without provocation, for their own amusement or satisfaction, do not receive such respect. Killing them is acceptable, and cooperating with them is monstrous.

By this logic, Odysseus is justified in his actions, however atrocious. He attacks to protect his family, and therefore deserves mercy.

The suitors, on the other hand…

[gay-dorito-dust]

Here’s a Jason idea for you: imagine a criminal he’s fighting as Red Hood suddenly mentions you, by name, to mess with Jason. Jay would absolutely obliterate the criminal, but that leaves the question of how his enemies know about you… I love the potential for angst/protective Jason 😍 Also, I love your writing so much, it always makes my day to see you on my feed! Thank you for sharing your writings 💞🥰

Tw: blood and violent stuff.

Also thank you for enjoying my stuff! It’s really appreciated and makes me wanna write a lot more in the future. It’s just nice being reminded that people do like the stuff that I put out and not hate it as much as I do when looking back on them.🤣 🦦

A well placed punch to the face landed the criminal flat on his back as he groaned upon impact and was currently struggling to get back up to his feet, only to be pinned by a heavy combat boot weighing down on his chest. Finally Jason had caught up with the drug dealer that had been lurking near children and vulnerable adults alike for the past couple of days, and right where he wanted him too.

‘It’s such a shame that you caught me as fast as you did RedHood because just you came along, I was going to pay one last person a visit before the night was over.’ The criminal smiled, showing off his blood stained teeth in the process, his smile then became a grimace as Jason put more of his weight onto his chest. ‘Well it was a good thing that i came when I did because after tonight, you won’t be selling drugs to anyone anymore, that I can guarantee.’ Jason growled, feeling his blood boil hotter for every second that he didn’t put a bullet in this assholes head.

‘What was their name?’ The criminal trailer off, not heading Jason’s warning and throwing his head back and laughing. ‘Oh right now I remember, it’s Y/n. What a pretty name for an even prettier person.’ Jason froze at the mention of your name, his blood had gone cold but his anger skyrocketed at the insinuation of you being placed in any sort of danger. Whether it be by a drug dealer or otherwise, the same conclusion was to be expected with Jason and that was that he would personally hunt down every last thug, drug dealer and crime lord that ever dared to speak your name.

Jason wordlessly then grabbed the criminal by the collar of his shirt and threw him into a wall with all his strength. Watching on as the scumbag crumpled the floor as he then began to stalk towards him before gradually breaking out into a run and brutally ramming his knee into the criminals head. Jason wasn’t done there though, not by a long shot. He wanted the make the bastard pay for having your name come out of his filthy mouth, he wanted to tear him limb from limb, put him back together again so that he could rip him limb from limb all over again before ever giving him the satisfaction of death.

‘You will never, ever, ever bring anyone to harm ever again! Not while I’m here, not while I’m still breathing and able bodied enough to tear you fuckers to bits!’ Jason hissed pure venom as each of his punches become more and more brutal then the last, his knuckles were going to bruise like hell and hurt like hell too, but the pain and punishment he’d receive would be all worthwhile if it meant keeping you safe and sound. Jason would gladly taken on any punishment anyone could throw at him if it meant you remained unscathed, he’d happily gain more scars on his body if it meant that you could sleep easier at night, Jason always had your best interests in mind whenever he was clearing the streets of Gotham.

He was doing it for you, he was doing it for the kids at Crime Alley, he was doing it so that everyone could have a peace of mind; And he didn’t care about the methods he took to obtaining that.

It wasn’t long until the criminal stopped moving all together, Jason didn’t care that his fists were stained with blood, he just stood up and left the criminal in the alleyway where he was brutally beaten to death and headed home; to you with a heavy mind and a growing pit within his stomach because if a low life scumbag like him knew you by name…then who else did? Black mask? Penguin? Two face? Scarecrow? Carmine Falcone? He didn’t like to think about this one but does Joker know? All these thoughts running through Jason’s head didn’t do him a whole lot of good with his ever growing sense of dread and slight paranoia; He had to get to you and he had to get to you now before anything else happened before the night ended.

‘I’m coming baby, just please still be there when I get home, please don’t let them take you away from me.’ Jason muttered under his breath as he pushed himself forward as he ran from rooftops to rooftop, determined to make it to the apartment before anyone else does because if they did, may god have mercy on their souls because Jason would go to war for you and will violently cut anyone down to size if they were to come between him and you; For nothing got between you and Jason and if they did, Jason would make sure to deal with it before it became more of a problem.

‘Sweetheart? Are you in here?’ Jason called as he slammed the door behind him.

‘Jason? What’s-‘ you rushed into the room and gasped upon seeing the dried blood on his knuckles and his paling face as though he looked about to pass out where he stood. ‘Oh my god.’ You whispered as you rushed towards Jason who rushed towards you, arms out stretched to grasp your waist while your hands held his face. ‘What happened out there? I thought you said it was a simple mission.’ You said, concerned for Jason as he seemingly let out a sigh of relief and rested his forehead against yours.

‘It was meant to be a simple mission but then…’

‘Then what?’ You asked, stroking his cheeks reassuringly and feeling him melt into your touch like he did every night he came home from a long patrol or mission, but he also did it when he needed to feel you on him after waking up from a nightmare.

‘He said your name chipmunk.’ Jason squeezed his eyes shut as though he was trying to rid himself of the events that happened early on and focus on the feeling of your thumbs caressing his cheeks lovingly instead. ‘He said your name -clear as day I heard him say it- and before I knew it I was wailing on him until he stopped moving…all because he said how he was going to come for you next and I couldn’t…’ Jason paused to regulate his breathing that he hadn’t noticed had become fast and uneven the more his mind lingered on that small detail. ‘I couldn’t let him do that. I won’t let them take you from me. Never.’ He then tightens his grip on your waist as he kept uttering the extent he was willing to go to keep you in his life under his breath, almost as though it were a prayer or a promise, which ever one it was you weren’t quite sure but you let Jason squeeze you against his chest with his strong arms like a stress toy to his hearts desire.

‘It’s okay Jaybirdie. I’m right here, can’t you feel my warmth? Hear my voice? I’m right here baby. So you can squeeze me, hold me, cuddle me as much as you need to feel alright again because I’m not going anywhere with my Jaybird.’ You said loud enough for him to hear over his thoughts, pressing kisses into anywhere that you had access to, whether it be his shoulders, face, neck, forehead, you’d plant several kisses to each of those areas respectively. You may act calm but much like Jason, you too didn’t like the idea of some random criminal knowing your name. The implications of that were endless and it would be enough to put anyone on edge or even over it depending on their mental state, and to put it lightly Jason’s mental state wasn’t the healthiest.

The occasional whimper and sniff that came from him only made your heart hurt even more that you were willing to put aside your own fears about the situation to instead focus on comforting Jason, who must be feeling it ten times worse then you were, but it was the fact that in this moment you were bonded by a shared fear but that fear could be eventually overcame by the pair of you working together. ‘It’s okay baby it’s okay, we’re not going anywhere, they can’t make us because we’re stronger together.’ You spoke into the skin of his cheek as you finished pressed a thousand kisses onto them.

‘Stronger together.’ Jason echoed as he pressed himself further against you to feel you closer to him. ‘We’re stronger together.’ You smiled softly, seeing that you finally go through to him somewhat. However you were more than willing to stand in this position all night if it meant bringing Jason back from the edge within his mind because nothing was more important than having your Jason back.

‘That’s right baby.’ You cooed. ‘We’re stronger together, nothing will tear us apart.’

‘Promise?’ Jason asked looking deep into your eyes, it felt as though he was looking at you rather then through you which has your breath hitching in your throat momentarily.

‘I promise.’

[hadesoftheladies]

Opinion: We Need to Start Talking About Violent Feminist Activism Seriously

while i do not think that females are as violent or would be as violent as males without patriarchal obstruction, i think it's mostly the emasculation of women (female socialization) that leads to this demureness that perpetuates female subjugation. we often frame femininity as something that inhibits consciousness-raising, but it is actually far more frightening and deeper than that. femininity and its practices inhibit female self-worth which in turn causes women to devalue themselves. this is why women are not accustomed to fighting for themselves, like every other animal (male and female) on this earth. women are so used to "lying down and taking it" because it is something they are primed to do. the danger of femininity isn't just that it deforms our bodies or divides us from each other, it is that it physically and mentally disables our ability to fight back.

i have often neglected to mention alternative methods in my separatist posts, but separatism is not the only way we can enact large-scale societal transformation. it is the only nonviolent way.

the truth of the matter is, as much as we make jokes and fantasize about killing men, the reason most women and girls "behave" when it comes to men and men do not "behave" when it comes to women is because women simply aren't feared, despite the fact that we have the power to become a threat. even in feminist circles such as this, talk of women physically harming men is seen as taboo, as something that can be easily used against us. so we have to constantly disclose that we aren't serious. i think this is part of the problem.

the other word for fear is respect. men cannot respect or revere men they do not fear on some level. in a twisted way, in order for women to become human to men, we have to get scary. we have to hold real power over them and become intolerant to them.

this doesn't necessarily have to be done strictly in violent ways. resisting femininity can range from allowing ourselves to frown and even scowl in public, not being hospitable toward men, not complimenting, affirming, validating or cleaning up after them. but the point of combatting female socialization is resisting the role of women in patriarchal society: sexual object, or in other words, victim. it is the victimization of women that men find especially erotic. that's why consensual sex isn't enough for them. they are fuelled by female terror.

in short, gyns, i'm saying the time has come when we should aim to put the fear of god in these bastards. the only way they will view rape as badly as they view cannibalism is if there is a constant looming threat of brutal social castration. they need to fear social punishment, which is difficult because half of society is made up of men that approve. so how can the other half, women, make it so that the other half are afraid to do so?

which brings us, ironically, back to separatism and also gender non-conformity. in order for women to reach a place where we can defend ourselves using violence and not get taken ten steps back for killing/maiming a rapist, pedo, abuser we need women to have access to ironclad female solidarity.

male solidarity is what keeps the status quo intact, and female solidarity is its only worthy counterpoint. the reason patriarchy is so strong is because of female solidarity with males rather than intra-community solidarity. this is the weak point of patriarchy, it's over-dependence on women on a cellular level. society as we know it, patriarchal or not, will fall to shit if women refused to participate in its core structures. literally the only reason children are still being born, raised and schooled in the face of men's destructiveness is because of women. men can destroy as much as they like and a society will still function for the most part because of the resilience of women. literally the biggest economic problems societies face come from male criminality whether from upper or lower class men. the only reason any of it still functions is because of women. women are the glue of the home themselves, the basic unit of society. take women away, and i promise there's nothing fucking left.

for this reason, the biggest de-radicalization tools patriarchy employs against female liberation are marriage/co-habitation with men, femininity and religion and i will get into the details why briefly:

-marriage/co-habitation often results in the woman's isolation from female community or larger society because the man strategically makes himself the central focus/recipient of her resources (health, attention, energy)

-femininity keeps women focused on male approval as a source of power, further encouraging female-female competition and destroying solidairty

-religion and romance are explicitly androcentric, focusing on framing men as the only possible givers of life, purpose, fulfillment and meaning to women while simultaneously demeaning, obscuring and devaluing the fact that women are oftentimes the primary sources of human life and love

now see that all three do three very important things for de-radicalization: they frame men as sources of life, meaning and vitality as opposed to a threat or disadvantage, isolates women from their true selves (devaluing their friendships, erasing their history and contributions, distorting their nature), and pits women against each other. to sum up, centering men and then erasing and isolating women from each other and themselves.

but we won't scare men by psyching ourselves out of what's going to be necessary to defend ourselves. in order for women to be mobilized to take power men have no authority to deny them, we have to cultivate strong, nearly unbreakable self-esteem. we need to esteem ourselves so highly that we never question whether or not we should feel entitled to a better life.

that's why refusing to emasculate yourself is the first step. decolonizing your mind of its male-centeredness and no longer seeing yourself as subordinate, inferior or less worthy to a life of freedom than him.

the second step after de-centering men within yourself is to quickly center women. that's where separatism comes in. not only does this also aid you in decolonizing the rest of your mind, but it gives you the courage to go for better rather than settle for what men say you deserve. seeing that actually, men aren't vital at all to a wonderful life. throwing yourself into female centricity and replacing male hegemony with female history, philosophy, culture, literature, all of it. but not just on a mental level, on an interpersonal and financial level as well. this boosts you economically and empowers you buy giving you that independence necessary to make demands.

then when it comes to the dire, when men retaliate as they are prone to do, you don't hesitate to punish them for it. you don't hesitate to make it cost them. whether that's in organized feminist cyber attacks (doxxing, phishing, DDos attacks, etc). you make them see themselves as potential victims. where what they do to others can also be done to them. where they fear being poisoned, disappearing, outed, isolated, killed.

this kind of organized self-defense will not happen without female solidarity. we already have examples of women coming together to beat abusive men up and get rid of the threats themselves when victims of male violence fear state retaliation too much to defend themselves. female solidarity can substitute for state neglect. it is the only thing that can. the king of the pride doesn't stand a chance against a pack of lionesses. and the state cannot punish all its women lest it destroy itself entirely. governments know that restricting women restricts their economy, so killing masses of women is just not feasible.

female solidarity is the missing piece, and that's what the status quo continually tries to dismantle. also, non-violence in the face of our oppression has never been a virtue. it is something the patriarchy has counted on.

the lie of femininity is that men will respect or care for us once they see how we suffer and how beautiful we are. we think they will set us apart as sacred if they are in love with us. but the truth is they will only respect us if they fear us.

anyways, i'm just thinking out loud here, and these are all generalizations. i'll need to make a whole other article where i break this down on an infrastructural level.

[princewhowaspromised]

A list of Daenerys Targaryen's positive moments

i.e., scenes that highlight her kindness and/or compassion.

Ordered Jhogo and Quaro not to harm or kill Viserys (AGOT Dany III)

Begged Jorah not to tell Viserys he was being mocked by the Dothraki (AGOT Dany IV)

Pleaded with Khal Drogo (going so far as to use the "pillow tricks" Doreah taught her) to allow Viserys to rejoin them at the head of the column (AGOT Dany IV)

Asked Viserys not to call the Dothraki "savages" (AGOT Dany IV)

Prepared a meal and gifts (including fine clothing and a cloak) to Viserys to help him look more regal and earn the respect of the Dothraki (AGOT Dany IV)

Calmed Doreah with a touch and defended her from Viserys (AGOT Dany IV)

Asked Jorah to stop a drunk Viserys from provoking the Dothraki (AGOT Dany V)

Offered Viserys her dragon eggs and a seat beside her as long as he dropped the sword (AGOT Dany V)

Took on the task of translating Viserys's demands to Drogo to spare Jhiqui from harsh punishment (AGOT Dany V)

Purchased a fertility charm for Doreah and sought gifts for Irri and Jhiqui (AGOT Dany VI)

Found a stall selling sausages made with garlic and hot peppers and offered them to her handmaids and the men of her khas (AGOT Dany VI)

Took the Lhazareen women under her protection to shield them from sexual violence (AGOT Dany VII) (as George R. R. Martin puts it, "In the village of Lhazarene, Dany is appalled by the rape and slaughter that she’s seeing. […] Dany can’t enact the idea of “don’t take slaves”, but what she does there is saying “I’ll take the slaves. I’m the queen, all the slaves belong to me.” and in that way she can extend some protection over the women who were being raped.")

Ordered Qotho and others not to harm Mirri (AGOT Dany VII, AGOT Dany VIII)

Was determined to die for Drogo if necessary (AGOT Dany VIII)

Freed Drogo's slaves and offered them the choice to leave or join her khalasar as equals - "I see the faces of slaves. I free you. Take off your collars. Go if you wish, no one shall harm you. If you stay, it will be as brothers and sisters, husbands and wives. [...] To each of you I say, give me your hands and your hearts, and there will always be a place for you." (AGOT Dany X)

Resolved to be a source of strength for her people, suppressing her own fears and embracing her role as Drogo’s queen (ACOK Dany I)

Went without food and drink with the rest of her people while they crossed the Red Waste, refusing any special treatment for herself (ACOK Dany I)

Cared for Doreah as she succumbed to fever, providing her water, comfort, and support until she died, before allowing the khalasar to continue their journey (ACOK Dany I)

Ensured her people's basic needs for food and water were met in Vaes Tolorro (ACOK Dany I)

Tasked Rakharo and a group of men with pulling up the plaza in Vaes Tolorro to make the land fertile (ACOK Dany I)

Ordered Aggo to repair the gates of Vaes Tolorro to make sure she and her people were prepared for any potential threats (ACOK Dany I)

Tended Jorah's wound herself (ACOK Dany I)

Wanted to restore Jorah's home and honor (ACOK Dany I)

Wants to avoid destroying King's Landing, rule with compassion and create a beautiful, joyful kingdom where her people can thrive and welcome her as their queen (ACOK Dany II)

Acknowledged the need to train her growing dragons to avoid destruction (ACOK Dany III)

Diffused tension between Ser Jorah and Arstan by gently intervening and telling Jorah that no offense from Arstan's part was intended (ASOS Dany I)

Believes that "a queen must listen to all, the highborn and the low, the strong and the weak, the noble and the venal", that "a queen should hear all sides before reaching a decision" and that "a queen must listen to her people" (ASOS Dany I, ASOS Dany II, ADWD Dany VI)

Is horrified and visibly shaken by the brutal training methods of the Unsullied, especially the requirement to kill infants (ASOS Dany II)

Invited Arstan to join her in her litter, concerned for his well-being in the intense heat (ASOS Dany II)

Apologized to Irri for Drogon biting her hand and gently kissed the spot where Drogon left his marks (ASOS Dany II)

Is willing to kill her enemies, but refuses to harm innocents (ASOS Dany II)

Believes that kings and queens are meant to protect the vulnerable and deliver justice (ASOS Dany III)

Freed Missandei, eight thousand Unsullied, all the slave boys in training and all the other slaves in Astapor (ASOS Dany III)

Killed the slavers of Astapor and spared all children under twelve (ASOS Dany III)

Abolished the practice of giving the Unsullied new slave names every day, allowing them to return to their birth names or choose new ones (ASOS Dany IV)

Allowed the Unsullied to choose their officers (ASOS Dany IV)

Allowed all the freedmen to join her, even though they were a burden and couldn't fight, out of a sense of moral obligation (ASOS Dany IV)

Attacked the Yunkish slavers when they least expected it at night to spare the former slaves from heavy casualties (and it works: only about a dozen were killed) (ASOS Dany IV)

Was merciful to the Yunkish slavers and left Yunkai untouched (ASOS Dany IV)

Freed the slaves of Yunkai (ASOS Dany IV)

Offered mercy to sellswords or slaves who pledged loyalty to her (ASOS Dany IV)

Decided to conquer Meereen to secure food for her people and prevent them from starving along the march (ASOS Dany V)

Sent for a healer to ensure Strong Belwas's wound was properly cared for before proceeding with her council (ASOS Dany V)

Refused to risk the lives of her Unsullied in an attack on Meereen's gates where the Meereenese could use boiling oil to kill them (ASOS Dany V)

Engaged with the freedmen, allowing them to touch her for encouragement, listening to their requests, and even stopping to speak with a pregnant woman seeking her blessing for her child’s name (ASOS Dany V)

Ended slavery in Meereen (ASOS Dany VI)

Promised to take Missandei home someday (ASOS Dany VI)

Crucified 163 slavers in response to the slavers' crucifixion of 163 slave children (ASOS Dany VI) (some would disagree that this was a positive moment, but I believe it was because, in this feudal setting, it's uncommon for monarchs or nobles to care about commoners, let alone take action against those who mistreat them, so it does showcase her compassion towards the slave children. Also, Dany's real mistake was not killing enough slavers to neutralize their power to retaliate)

Hung murderers, amputated the hands of looters, and castrated rapists (ASOS Dany VI)

Rejected the luxurious harpy throne in favor of a simple ebony bench (ASOS Dany VI)

Forbade men to sell their wives and children, ensuring no one is forced into slavery (ASOS Dany VI)

Forgave Ser Barristan and spared Jorah's life despite his betrayal (ASOS Dany VI)

Decided to stay in Meereen and rule as its queen to protect the freedmen and prevent the city from falling back into chaos or slavery (ASOS Dany VI)

Took it upon herself to wake up in the middle of the night and personally see the body of Stalwart Shield, the first of her soldiers murdered by the Sons of the Harpy (ADWD Dany I)

Honored Stalwart Shield by closing his eyes, giving him a proper burial, vowing that he wouldn't be forgotten and naming a company of freedmen after him (ADWD Dany I, ADWD Dany II)

Had the Unsullied walk in pairs at night, then eventually ordered them to stop patrolling the streets of Meereen to prevent further assassinations (ADWD Dany I, ADWD Dany II)

Rejected Skahaz's suggestion to punish noble families indiscriminately and instead increased the reward for information about the Sons of the Harpy to a thousand honors (ADWD Dany I)

Was merciful to Reznak despite her suspicion that he might be one of the betrayers Quaithe warned her about because she acknowledges the treacherous nature of prophecies (ADWD Dany I, ADWD Dany II)

Sent her small khalasar, led by her bloodriders, to free slaves in the hinterlands and secure crops for Meereen’s market (ADWD Dany I, ADWD Dany V)

Sent Daario to negotiate with Lhazar, leading to an alliance that brought food and trade to Meereen (ADWD Dany I, ADWD Dany V)

Wanted to win the Meereenese nobility to bring peace to the city (ADWD Dany I)

Agreed to wear the tokar to be accepted as Meereen's queen, despite her initial desire to ban it (ADWD Dany I)

Didn't force the Meereenese to adopt her language, instead learned theirs and spoke to them in their own tongue, while also allowing them to continue using their language freely (ADWD Dany as a whole)

Refused to grant the slaver Grazdan any compensation from the freed weavers and instead ordered him to give the freed weavers a new loom for forgetting the name of the old slave woman who taught them (ADWD Dany I)

Ensured fairness by alternating between summoning former masters and freedmen for their petitions (ADWD Dany I)

Spared the life of a noble boy who tried to attack her after she denied his request for justice due to her pardon for crimes during Meereen's sack (ADWD Dany I)

Made a point of personally listening to the petitioners instead of delegating the responsibility to her advisors (ADWD Dany as a whole)

Dismissed Reznak's suggestion to scourge those who come to her with complaints about her dragons, saying that "no man should ever fear to come to me" and thinking many of the claims must be genuine (ADWD Dany I)

Paid the claimants for their lost animals, but required them to swear an oath at the Temple of the Graces in the future to ensure the validity of their claims (ADWD Dany I)

Locked Rhaegal and Viserion after Drogon ate Hazzea (ADWD Dany II)

Rejected Skahaz's advice to execute Hazzea's father or to rip out his tongue (ADWD Dany II)

Chose to pay the blood price for the death of Hazzea, offering the father a compensation and memorial while asking him never to tell what happened to anyone (ADWD Dany II)

Comforted Missandei after her brother died by inviting her to share her bed, offering to send Missandei home to Naath and expressing her desire to keep her safe (ADWD Dany II)

Balanced the demands of the craftsmen's guilds with the needs of the freedmen, deciding to allow only guild members to claim titles of journeyman or master, while ensuring the guilds accept skilled freedmen into their ranks (ADWD Dany II)

Replanted olive trees (ADWD Dany III)

Vowed to be the calamity that transforms the slavers back into people (ADWD Dany III)

Proposed a trade deal with Xaro, offering Meereen's salt and wine (ADWD Dany III)

Ordered the construction of a ditch to bring water to the fields for planting beans (ADWD Dany III)

Rejected Xaro's comparison between slavery and rain and passionately defended her belief that no one wants to be owned (ADWD Dany III)

Spared Ghael's life even after he spat in her face (ADWD Dany III)

Hugged and kissed Mezzara, one of her young hostages, to thank her for bringing her morning meal (ADWD Dany III)

Assembled a diverse council that included both nobles and freedmen, ensuring the latter held important roles in both her administration and her army (ADWD Dany III)

Refused Xaro’s offer to leave Meereen in exchange for ships (ADWD Dany III)

Chose not to kill her child hostages even after the Sons of the Harpy continued to murder freedmen at night despite Skahaz's protests (ADWD Dany IV)

Said she "would sooner perish fighting than return my children to bondage" (ADWD Dany IV)

Thinks she owes it to the freedmen who perished (Stalwart Shield, Mossador, Rylona Rhee) to marry in order to end the slaughter in Meereen (ADWD Dany IV)

Agreed to marry Hizdahr if he gave her ninety days without killings in Meereen and eventually fulfilled her promise (ADWD Dany IV, ADWD Dany VII)

Believes that "a queen belongs not to herself, but to her people" and "the realm" (ADWD Dany IV, ADWD Dany V, ADWD Dany IX)

Rejected Daario's suggestion to kill all the Great Masters during a wedding (ADWD Dany IV)

Rejected Groleo's suggestion to use her dragons against the Yunkish (ADWD Dany V)

Supports agriculture in Meereen by planting beans, grapes and wheat (ADWD Dany V)

Forbade Skahaz from torturing Hizdahr after realizing that torture doesn't bring reliable results (ADWD Dany V)

Rejected Skahaz's suggestion to seize the kin of ruling families in Meereen, choosing instead to trust Hizdahr and hope for peace (ADWD Dany V)

Ordered food to be brought to the first Astapori refugees who came to Meereen (ADWD Dany V)

Refused Ben Plumm's advice to use her dragons in battle (ADWD Dany V)

Corrected Ben by emphasizing that the people she feels responsible for are not mere "bad apples," but human beings who are sick, hungry, and afraid, seeing them as her children (ADWD Dany V)

Set up a camp and sent food and medical care for the Astapori refugees sick and dying of the bloody flux (ADWD Dany V, ADWD Dany VI)

Insisted on personally delivering food to the Astapori refugees, despite the risks, to show solidarity with her people and understand their suffering firsthand - "I will not turn away from them. A queen must know the sufferings of her people" (ADWD Dany VI)

Knelt beside an old man and bathed him on her own initiative (ADWD Dany VI)

Shamed her followers into helping her prepare and burn the dead, organizing the effort and working alongside them (ADWD Dany VI)

Allowed Grey Worm and the Unsullied to bathe in the salt sea after their work, respecting their faith and privacy regarding the true name of their goddess. (ADWD Dany VI)

Believes that "a queen loves where she must, not where she will" (ADWD Dany VII)

Ordered Daario to treat Quentyn with courtesy (ADWD Dany VII)

Refused Quentyn’s marriage offer because she didn’t want to abandon her people (ADWD Dany VII)

Ended her affair with Daario after marrying Hizdahr (ADWD Dany VII)

Reassured Quentyn when he was scared of her dragons, expressing understanding rather than mocking him for his fear (ADWD Dany VIII)

Warned Quentyn to leave her court for his own safety (ADWD Dany VIII)

Insisted that the leftover food from the feast was given to the poor (ADWD Dany VIII)

Remembers the people she lost (Doreah, Quaro, Eroeh, Hazzea) in an attempt to accept the deaths in the fighting pits as a necessary price for peace and to avoid greater bloodshed (ADWD Dany VIII)

Ensured that a collapsed palanquin bearer was moved off the street and provided with food and water (ADWD Dany IX)

Forbade children to participate in the combats at Daznak's Pit (ADWD Dany IX)

Refused to allow thieves or debtors to be sentenced to fight in the pits, only murderers, rapists and slavers (ADWD Dany IX)

Ensured only free men who chose to fight would be allowed in the arena (ADWD Dany IX)

Stopped Hizdahr's plan to have dwarfs (unbeknownst to her, Tyrion and Penny) fight three lions in the pits (ADWD Dany IX)

Flew Drogon away from Meereen and prevented further harm to her people (ADWD Dany IX)

Bonus: On the ADWD cover for Brazil, I [Marc Simonetti] put Daenerys at the top of the stairs of the Meereenese pyramid. I had undoubtedly been, unconsciously, influenced by the series. And George [R. R. Martin] told me that Daenerys wants equality for everyone, she wants to be at the same level as her people, so I had her climb down to keep it consistent.

[bella-goths-wife]

Hiya, I love reading what you've done so far with the Vees, I was wondering if I could request a bit more for Velvette x pet reader (whether it's physical affection or just how she'd mark/show you as hers), or her just slowly becoming more obsessed with you. I don't know, I just need more of this woman.

How does velvette show ownership over Vs pet reader

Thank you so much, I hope you like this :)

Warnings: forced affection, forced ownership, abuse, obsessiveness

Velvette has always felt a slight bit of insecurity and jealousy over the fact that she wasn’t actually the one who owned your soul

She knew that the Vs shared everything, even souls and workers

But she always had that irrational irritation over the fact that you made the deal with vox instead of her, making him your actual owner

She knows realistically that you can’t refuse any order she gives you, you’d be severely punished within minutes and vox would surely yank on your leash to remind you that the mutts preform tricks when an owner commands it

So she counteracts this with her own methods instead

She’s always felt envious when she sees vox bring out the chained leash that connected your soul to his ownership and how easily he could make you submit to his will with a single yank of the chain, so velvette decided she’d give you a collar too

She’d always disliked the markings around your neck, she saw them as a crude reminder of your brutal death

So when she presented you with a tight collar in her colour scheme and with a golden V on the front, she thought you’d see it as a favour to you

She’d seen the away you rub the marks around your neck with a grimace, sometimes making the skin irritated and sore

She thought you’d see the collar as an ingenious remedy for your insecurities and her need for control

You did not

You initially tried to refuse the collar but with one threat of putting the one she picked on or she could happily have Val lend you a shock collar instead, you donned the cruel reminder of your lack of freedom

She’d have you wear the collar whenever you were working with her, and on the days she felt particularly in need of control she’d attach a matching leash to it and have it wrapped around her fist at all times

That way you’d have to follow her wherever she went no matter what

This only further made you out to be a hopeless pet puppy who followed the Vs around like a loyal mutt to your coworkers, who would also yank on your leash or collar whenever the Vs weren’t looking

Another way velvette would show ownership over you would be whenever she spots someone in the tower trying to pursue a friendship or relationship with you

Anything like a friendly smile from someone else and she’s rushing to your side and interlocking your arms in a painful hold or holding your hand with a harsh amount of pressure

The affection will show that your owned to the other demons, and the pain would remind you of your lack of freedom or choice in this agreement

Velvette hates affection most of the time, so as soon as that person who got too friendly with you has left she’ll let go

Unless she’s having a particularly vulnerable day

If something has set her off that day and she needs to calm down, she’ll lay her head down on you and command you to play with her hair

It’s a gesture that reminds her of childhood in a simplistic way, and you are the only person who she’d allow to do this for her

If she felt particularly jealous one day, she’d command you to do this while in the room with vox

It’s like her own private ‘fuck you’ to him that you follow her commands

I also think velvette would absolutely dress you up in clothes in her style and colour scheme to show ownership

I actually believe that she’d pick your clothes out every night ready for the morning

It’s the way she proves her ownership of you to you

She’s always had a present fear in the back of her mind that you’ll start to rebel against her because you know she’s not the one who owns your soul, so this action of controlling your clothing is reminder to you that there is no escaping that you are also hers

She needs you to know your hers, that you belong to her and that she’s never letting you go now that you’ve become an obsessive project for her

[sadseungmin]

hi i love your dark concepts, i was wondering if you could do a DARK smut with multiple members? whichever you choose are fine, maybe chanlix or minchan? maybe a yandere smut or kidnapping?? :))

♡ being the play-thing of psychotic (eldest) hyung-line ♡

psychotic bang chan/lee minho x afab reader | dead dove | nsfw (MDNI)

p.s. i hope this is to your liking, anon!

⚠︎ tw: non-con elements (i.e. forced orgasms, forced exhibitionism), physical violence, pet play

You were always warned to never be trusting of strangers; that you're gambling with your life whenever your guard is down and your heart is open. The darkest intentions often hide behind the prettiest of smiles and the doe-iest of eyes, and yet, you still fell for Chan's and Minho's charms. So when the two men invite you to their lavish mansion on the outskirts of town for a night of drinking and good conversation, you happily accept.

That night, as you nurse your cool glass of Pinot Grigio, you can't help but notice how beautiful the two men look under the soft glow of the chandeliers hanging above—how well they complement one another, and how their gazes are locked on you so intensely, it's slightly unnerving. It's your last coherent thought before your eyes grow heavier and Chan's and Minho's voices sound distant. Dizziness washes over you, and just before the glass slips from your fingers, you realize...

You had gambled and lost. ˏˋ° ♱ *⁀➷

『 ↳♡･ﾟbreaking-in their new toy ೃ ♱

Psychotic Chan and psychotic Minho are meticulous in their shared obsession with you, deriving pleasure from controlling every aspect of your existence, starting with the dismantling of your bodily autonomy. They are devoted to breaking and possessing you entirely, using a variety of disturbing rituals and methods to ensure you serve your purpose as the perfect toy.

How it begins...

You awake in a dimly lit room, naked with your limbs tied tightly to the posts of a bed. Chan approaches first with a calm demeanor and a façade of gentleness. He caresses your tear-streaked face, whispering false assurances before moving his hands lower. His touch is slow, cold, and calculating. He speaks softly, telling you how beautiful you are and how much he and Minho needs you, all while ignoring your loud pleas to stop.

"Your screams are so pretty, baby. Too bad no one will hear them; this room is soundproof, after all."

Minho watches from the corner of the room, a smirk on his lips and his eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. When Chan signals, Minho finally steps forward and approaches. He roughly grabs your inner thigh, his grip bruising your skin.

"You're gonna be good for us, and in return, we'll make you feel good too."

『 ↳♡･ﾟdaddy-kitten dynamic ೃ ♱

Chan and Minho revel in the power and control they have over you—their personal play-thing, their little kitten. This manifests in a twisted daddy-kitten dynamic, where your submission is not only expected but brutally enforced.

psychotic!chan is calculating; he enjoys toying with your mind and forcing you to submit through psychological manipulation. His orders are clear and absolute, and any hint of disobedience is met with severe punishment.

psychotic!minho prefers to be the enforcer, using his strength to dominate, leaving bruises and welts on your skin as reminders of their control. Minho loves the sight of your tears and your desperate, pathetic pleas for mercy.

How is this dynamic enforced...?

collaring and leashing: Chan gets you a custom-made collar, the first of many to come. The leather collar is baby pink (because, according to him, all kittens love that color) and is adorned with a golden pendant that reads: "Minchan's Little Kitten". He attaches a matching leash, leading you around and forcing you to perform degrading tasks. Whenever you're disobedient or hesitant to perform a task, Chan's favorite thing to do is choke you by pulling tightly on your leash.

"I know, kitten, I know. You can't breathe, right? That's because you didn't listen. The directions were fucking clear, weren't they? On the floor with your face down, ass up and arched, knees spread far apart, and hands holding your cheeks open. Now, let's try again, kitten."

impact play: Minho uses whips, paddles, and his hands to discipline you, and his strikes are always precise and powerful. The pain is a reminder of your place, and the bruises and welts left behind are a testament to your complete submission. Minho loves putting you over his lap and spanking your bare ass and pussy with repeated heavy-handed strikes.

"God, you're pathetic. Crying like a big baby, yet your pussy is just as wet as your face. Begging for me to stop, but your pussy is drooling all over my slacks. You're enjoying this, huh? You're a sick little kitty. Only sick kittens would enjoy being punished like this."

edging and denial: Chan takes pleasure in edging you to the point of tears, bringing you repeatedly to the brink of orgasm before cruelly denying you release until you're nothing but a trembling, desperate mess. He enjoys using a variety of toys—clit lickers, vibrating nipple clamps, fuck machines—to force these orgasms from you. He loves watching your body writhe around helplessly as tears bead in your eyes and drool slips from your parted lips.

"Bratty kittens like you don't deserve to cum. Sob all the fuck you want; it changes nothing. I don't care how red and swollen your pussy gets, or how much your tummy cramps—you haven't shown that you deserve to cum. That's not how kittens get what they want."

forced exhibitionism: As much as they enjoy sharing you between just themselves, they especially love making you perform in front of their closest friends to further shame and degrade you. Donning nothing more than cat ears, a collar, and a skimpy bra and panty set, every touch and forced orgasm is witnessed by six additional pairs of eyes. It's humiliating being seen like this, even more so to be repeatedly creaming and squirting and moaning from the attention of so many mouths, hands, and cocks. With all your holes properly stuffed and filled, how can you form coherent thoughts of shame or embarrassment?

"Look how cock-drunk you are, y/n. Mmm, you're completely ruined, kitty. You definitely belong to us now. Who else would want a mind-broken, cock-obsessed, slutty kitten like you, hm? Who else is gonna appreciate your filthy, stretched out cunt, huh? You were clearly made for us, and us alone."

[lines-in-limbo]

I don’t think Snape liked his students but I do think he care about their wellbeing - another scene that comes to my mind is in DH when he’s headmaster. Students are being tortured and mutilated on the regular under the new Death Eater curriculum (Snape needs to let it happen to play his role as Voldemort’s servant). But when he catches Ginny and Neville trying to steal the sword from his room, their detention is… dun dun dun… going to the forest with Hagrid.

Yes, that’s a great scene. Though Snape had already promised Dumbledore before his death that he would do anything in his power to protect the students if Voldemort took over. Given his history of safeguarding students from danger, I believe he would’ve acted the same way regardless of Dumbledore's request.

Additionally, comparing McGonagall’s approach to detentions with Snape's under normal circumstances, sheds light on their differing methods. McGonagall sometimes assigns risky detentions—like when she sent four first years into the Forbidden Forest to search for a wounded unicorn, despite warnings to stay out given by the teachers themselves. Snape, on the other hand, tends to give detentions that are tedious and unpleasant, such as cleaning bedpans or disemboweling toads, but never risky.

The scene you brought up, where he sent Ginny and Neville into the forest with Hagrid, was a strategic move on Snape's part and a necessity. He had to give them a risky detention to appease the new regime and avoid suspicion, while covertly shielding them from brutal punishment by the Carrows. It exemplifies Snape’s ability to navigate his loyalty to Voldemort while subtly protecting the students.

I love Snape so much; he’s such a complex character, and I love delving into his motives. Thank you for bringing up this scene—it’s another compelling example of Snape’s concern for his students' physical well-being. 🫶🏻

[roseykat]

TITLE: Barb Wired Brat

WC: 7.1k

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Minho x female reader

WARNING: minors DNI, I post NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever. 

TAGS: BDSM, impact play, mean!Minho, pet names, spreader bars, restraints, degradation, edging, ruined orgasm, multiple orgasms, crying, swearing, unprotected sex, subspace, use of the word ‘slut’, use of a vibrator. 

SUMMARY: misbehaving and being a brat doesn’t get you anywhere with Minho. So he lets you know what the consequences are...

The conviction of telling someone what to do, bullying them in bed, or manhandling them, is a challenging aspect. Being hesitant or unsure is not a road Minho has or will ever walk down when it comes to BDSM. He's a soft yet relentless inflictor of pain. Not many people are able to walk the fine line between both. Most are either too soft or too harsh.

Minho was the pot of gold you found at the end of the rainbow in terms of a romantic partner and a decent dom. Someone who knows his stuff.

Establishing roles was always important. Ideally, Minho associates himself as a somewhat dominant person. However, that doesn’t waive the occasions where he’s allowed you to take control in vanilla situations. Every now and then, he would let you handcuff him to the bed and ride him until you forget your own name.

But that’s almost as far as it goes because when it comes to BDSM, you let him take the reins. Whilst you have a fair bit of knowledge about it thanks to experience and research, Minho’s experience is more reputable.

“Edging is just teasing, no?” You asked him one day - long before either of you began to incorporate any kinks or special play into the relationship.

Minho pondered for a second, “not necessarily. They’re both the same in the sense of it being deliberate, but edging requires a lot of control on the sub's behalf. It’s not easy.”

“Hmm.”

“Why do you ask?” Minho questioned back. “Did you want to try it?”

With a nod and firm yes, edging became one of the first, recurring activities in the bedroom alongside most aspects of BDSM. It was such an effective way for Minho to assert control whenever you were consensually willing to give that to him.

But there were some days when he would need to earn that control as a result of you simply just being an absolute brat.

Your methods of acting up in bed were intentional and deliberate. In those vanilla instances, Minho could have you ride him. However, not even a minute into being on top, you would start to complain about being too tired or that your knees were getting sore.

You would then just lie on top of his body with his cock still stuffed in you until he decided to start doing all the work. In the moment, it would drive him nuts to have to flip you over and rail you into oblivion himself.

However, Minho doesn’t hold it against you because he loves you so much, but there’s only so much of your bratty behaviour that Minho can absorb. After that, he is brutal and unforgiving, which is exactly what you’re reminded of the next time you and Minho are in bed together.  

With the usual pre-discussion before any scene, Minho listened to any aspects that you wanted him to cover and not to cover.

“Whatever you feel like,” you said to him.

Those words left him with a decent amount of space to incorporate what he desired, tying it in with the element of surprise.

The alignment was perfect given the fact that he wanted to put you in your place - to tune you up a bit and to remind you what happens when you decide to act up.

From there on, he wasn’t going to hold back.

“Clothes off,” Minho first instructs.

The act of stripping you himself is too personal and sensual for what he’s going for. Even before he starts to touch you, he wants to plant the idea in your head that this is a punishment and not a reward.

You know he enjoys removing each item of clothing from your body, whether it’s slow and gentle or frantically ripping them off like he’s going to die if he doesn’t fuck you.

Either way, you understood his stance even more when he didn’t bother to look at you as you undressed.

You discard your clothes onto the chair in the corner of the room then sit on the end of the bed, waiting for his next instructions.

Minho shakes his head, “on the floor.”

“The floor?” You question back in disbelief.

“Did I stutter?” He asks you.

Looking at Minho now, you can tell that he’s pissed and the scene hasn’t even started. But you can’t help but absorb how hot he looks when he gets like this in the bedroom.

“No,” you reply sheepishly. “I just thought we were on the bed because that’s where we usually do scenes.”

“No,” Minho puts it sternly once more. “What’s your colour?”

“Green,” you answer.

“Then why aren’t you on the floor already?”

Giving Minho full permission to order you around or use you as he pleases is an exciting aspect of not knowing what’s about to happen. It intensifies his natural streak of unpredictability.

Following his instruction, you hop off of the bed and kneel before him on the ground while he retrieves a couple of items he had hidden beside the bed.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with these by now,” he says, holding up two spreader bars, one in each hand.

‘Familiar’ doesn’t even come close to how well you know what they are. It was a certain type of loathing mixed with a sick enjoyment. The whole purpose of the bars is to simply keep your legs spread for the man who intends to fuck between them.

“It might be better if you lie on your stomach first so I can work my way up.”

You try to contain your questions and heed his order. A hiss leaves your mouth when the front of your body flattens over the cold, hard wooden floor with your arms slightly propping you up. Usually, scenes between you and Minho take place on a surface that provides at least the slightest amount of cushion like a bed, chair, or couch.

For you to be on the floor is almost a disregard for any source of comfort. You know it’ll probably end up hurting, but not to the point where you would have to safe word your way out of it.

Minho takes the first spreader bar and fits it just above your ankles using the pre-attached cuffs. Each one is secured tightly so that the bar now takes the ability away for you to try and bring your feet together.

The second spreader bar is fixed just below your knees. Minho doesn’t want them right over the bone of your kneecaps because it would create an unnecessary risk of injury.

At that stage, anywhere below your hips are practically immovable. There’s no chance of you being able to close your legs at any stage, but you’re still able to sit back on your heels.

“Right, now sit up for me,” Minho instructs, patting you on the arm with the back of his hand. “Might be easier that way to get into the position, otherwise it’ll hurt trying to move with these on.”

“What do you mean?” You look back at him.

“I want you face down, ass up so I can cuff your hands to the other cuffs on the spreader bar.”

Oh. It was that sort of position.

You peel yourself off the ground, propping up to walk your hands back until you’re kneeling. In the midst of preparing two other items, Minho’s gaze drops down to your tits. Your nipples had hardened stiff from resting on the cold floor.

“Cute,” he comments with a coy smile, making your face flush entirely with red. “Alright, face down, hands at your sides.”

The position feels objectively embarrassing, especially when your legs are spread and your ass is in the air. Although, that doesn’t stop you from moving for Minho, knowing he’s not in the mood for resistance.

“Good,” he says, readying the next set of restraints.

This time, he’s using individual leather cuffs with clips attached, one for each of your wrists. Your hands rest at your sides once Minho secured them. He then clips each of the wrist restraints to the outsides of the spreader bar cuffs below your knees. This way, your arms were bound to your legs, now limiting any movement from your upper body.  

Once the restraints are complete, Minho moves away to get a good look at you. He watches as you test the cuffs by trying to pull away from the sides of your knees. You don’t even bother to move your legs knowing full well that it’s impossible.

Suddenly, the tips of Minho’s fingers trail over your spine. It’s ticklish, but a subtle attempt to soothe you.

“You should be feeling some discomfort, but is there any unnecessary pinching around the restraints?” He questions.

“No,” you reply clearly.

“Okay. Colour?”

“Green.”

“Right, let’s start,” Minho replies and begins to unbuckle his belt.

At first, you thought he was getting ready to fuck you, but it was far too early in the scene. There hasn’t been any foreplay or prep. It wasn’t until he folded the belt in half to use as a makeshift impact toy that you understood the message.

The black leather band wasn’t entirely that thick in width which meant it was going to sting rather than feel like a ‘thud’. Out of both sensations that you’ve experienced, the stinging can sometimes hurt to a point where it’s blinding.

Unfortunately for you, when it comes to impact play, Minho doesn’t hold back and shows very little remorse. He manages to demonstrate that with the first whip of his belt which came out of nowhere. You gasp at the sudden contact, already embracing the emulsifying heat that the first sting brings.

The next hit came from his hand, smacking hard and fast that your body involuntarily jolts.

“Fuck,” you swallow, bracing yourself for more hits.

Minho never mentioned how many you were going to take which he omitted just to torture you. If he had given you a specific number, it would eliminate the anticipation of the activity ending. To an extent, he wants you to suffer - to not know what’s coming next.

Over the same area where his hand slapped came the belt, forcing a set of curse words out of you. Heat spreads like wildfire throughout your lower half while your brain is confused by how much the impact hurts and how much you adorn it. The dilemma arises every time a hit lands hard on your ass.

With each whack or spank comes a fresh sting and a new handprint. It almost feels as if your skin is burning.

“Mhmm, fuck!” You scream out, attempting to kick your legs.

Minho clicks his tongue, “I should’ve gagged you.”

There’s nowhere for the pain to disburse except the isolated area Minho’s hand keeps making contact with. All of a sudden, he gropes one cheek and squeezes ruthlessly.

“Minho! Fuck, please, please, please!” You cry out desperately, your hands bunching into fists at your sides.

He glares down at you while you try to squirm under his grip, “what are you saying ‘please’ for? What do you want?”

“It…it hurts a lot,” you sob and groan. “I can’t…”

“Colour?”

Your brain stalls at his question. Minho trusts that if you’re uncomfortable at any stage throughout the scene, you would say either ‘yellow’ to slow down or ‘red’ to stop completely.

“Colour?” He repeats.

“I…g-green,” you convey clearly to him.

Even though you don’t see it, he’s smirking. Amidst all the pain he’s inflicting, no matter how much it hurts, deep down, you love it. Minho knows it too.

He lets out a haughty chuckle, “what a pain slut.”

His hand finally releases from your cheek and whilst you think you have time to breathe, Minho’s fingers glide between your wet folds. Up and down, he gathers your juices, deliberately teasing your pussy.

“You know how I can tell that you like it so much?” Minho asks in a soft tone.

His hand retracts, fingers slick and gleaming. He then proceeds to show just how wet you are by holding his hand up so that you can see from the angle you’re in.

That’s when you realise what the answer is…

“Because it makes you this wet. Doesn’t it?”

Too flustered and embarrassed to answer, all you could do was hum as a response. Unsatisfied with your lack of a proper answer, Minho goes back to squeezing one of your ass cheeks again making you yelp and shake.

“I didn’t catch that,” he taunts.

“Y-Yes!” You cry out, tremoring hopelessly under his grip.

“I thought as much,” he hisses and removes his hand, leaving you with more dull and dense pain to absorb. “You’ll take some more hits and if you take them well, maybe I’ll consider letting you come.”  

‘Maybe’ is never a promising word, but Minho always follows through with his convictions if you behave. Today he just doesn’t seem like he wants to put up with any disobedience.

To yank you out of your thoughts, Minho's hand pelts down hard once. Even though you’re expecting each hit, your body can’t help but jolt on every single one. By the unknown number of hits you start taking, the pain is there but it’s also not.

This effect has happened before. It’s not mostly that you know when it occurs during a scene, but it’s almost always during impact play.

Minho takes advantage of the infernal masochist in you, giving you so many hits to take that it makes your brain slip. It’s his ultimate catalyst to send you flying into subspace. But he doesn’t want you there just yet.

“Oi,” he warns, narrowing his eyes down at you to take in your distant expression. “Don’t start floating now, I want you to feel everything I’m about to do to you.”

The final set of impacts was the hardest you’ve had to take. Your ass is sore, stained red and tinged purple. There’s a twisted part of Minho’s brain that relishes in looking at the work he’s made out of it.

Seeing his reddish handprints over your ass makes his cock twitch. He then blinks down to the tent in his pants and sighs. At the moment, being hard was an inconvenience.

Then again, this was all his own doing. Allowing himself to be affected by the way you react to his actions drives him insane. You take it so well that there’s no need for him to be mean.

Deep down, he wants you to act up, not listen, or be disobedient. If that were the case, it’d give him even more of an excuse to be hard and fuck you dizzy.

Regardless, he’ll still do it.

Minho folds into irrationality, “you drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

You can barely look back at him but you can hear what’s going on behind you when his zipper comes down. Minho gets a hand around his dick once it’s finally free. He glides the tip between your wet folds, causing your entire body to shudder.

The thickness and length of his dick filling you out causes your brain to short circuit - so much that all you can do is hiss and moan.

“That’s it,” Minho breathes out, eyes watching his cock gradually disappear right in you. “Fucking take it all.”

With a couple of slow and steady strokes, he deliberately takes his time pushing in and dragging out, forcing you to feel every inch he gives. It’s tortuously slow but gives you some time to adjust to his length.

To test the waters a bit, Minho snaps his hips forward, driving an emphatic moan out of you. He pulls back then thrusts in again, harder, as a precursor to establish that at a consistent pace.

“Feel’s so fucking good,” Minho says through gritted teeth.

The satisfaction of it alone is enough for him to use both his hands to grope your ass. He kneads the flesh like he’s massaging it, then will suddenly squeeze so hard that it has you screaming and whining until tears prick your eyes.

His hand would relentlessly smack down on your ass every once in a while just to feel you involuntarily clench around him with each hit.

“Right…right there, yes fuck!” You cry out, fingernails digging into your palms.

Minho scoffs and rams his hips forward again in the hopes you’ll shut your mouth. The intention was clear to you, but you can’t help it when he gives it to you so well.

It’s exciting and eventful, especially when you feel like you’re about to go over the edge of an orgasm.

In that instance, Minho will usually use your face as an indicator of when you’re about to start coming. He’s used to seeing your eyes roll back or see your mouth part open even when no sound comes out. Even though your face is not in his view, he can still physically tell.

Since he’s stuffed you full with his cock, you’ve progressively gotten wetter over the minutes. Then having gone from moaning and calling out his name, you’re starting to go quiet on him.

As the knot tightening in the pit of your tummy begins to unravel, your eyes flash wide open. You suck in a large gasp of air just before you’re about to come, which is when Minho pulls out immediately.

There’s nothing for you to squeeze around as your body involuntarily convulses with zero pleasure. It slips through your fingers as you try to chase that earth-shattering feeling.  

“No…no, no, wait!” You sob while your hands shake.

From behind, Minho chuckles meanly and doesn’t say a word. He slides his cock into you once more, filling you back out with very little satisfaction coupled with it. The eye rolling sensation when he’s stuffed you to the hilt is absent. Every ounce of pleasure has escaped.

Minho thrusts into you once, twice, several times before he speaks again, “that was for talking back to me earlier and thinking you could get away with it.”

Tears slowly roll down the side of your face and onto the floor. Despite this, there wasn’t a second that went by where you thought about stopping.

Crying isn’t uncommon in the bedroom. For you, it stems from being so viciously overwhelmed by pain and pleasure that your body doesn’t know how to react to the intensity. Not to mention the frustration of having a sterling orgasm ruined in a matter of seconds.

Determined to be good for Minho, you continue to let him use you until his hips start to jump out of rhythm. It’s torture for him to hold back when all he wants is to bust a hot load inside of you. He knows it’s something you ask for at any given moment the two of you start fucking.  

However, Minho didn’t want to stray away from the purpose of the scene; putting you in your place. He’s not going to give you what you want until he’s satisfied that you genuinely deserve it.

As Minho rides the verge of an orgasm, he pulls out at the last second and comes over your ass with a few grunts and some swear words. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as coming inside you, but this wasn’t all about him.

For now, at least, he can admire the gorgeous mess he’s made on your skin - how it’s marked up as patches of deep red, and strings of glossy white.

“I’m going to help move you so that you’re kneeling okay?”

When Minho’s mind clears, he tucks himself back into his pants and helps lift you up with a bit of momentum. Once you’re upright and kneeling back on your heels, Minho spots your tears.

He crouches down to your level too, his face inches away from yours. He absorbs how ruined and dishevelled you are; red cheeks, tear stained face, and visibly spaced out.

“This is the only time I like seeing you cry,” Minho whispers against your wet lips.

His hand trails up to your throat, fingers ever so gently squeezing around the sides of your neck as he goes in to kiss you. You feel his tongue, and the wet heat of his mouth, all of which make you feel drunk.

Your hands want to touch him so badly, to feel his skin, muscles, everything. But the restraints on your wrists make it patently clear that you’re not allowed.

If Minho could hear your thoughts, he’d say you were being greedy. He’s already letting you be kissed by him and that’s more than enough based on what he thinks you deserve.

But out of nowhere, he rises from the floor, leaving you to try and chase after his lips. He walks over to the edge of the bed and returns with a vibrator.

Seeing that toy in his hand already has you whimpering in a way that makes him grin. You can see where this is going and it brings back the many sexual adventures he’s had with you whenever he incorporates some sort of apparatus that can make you cum your brains out.

“You’re dripping on the floor,” Minho alludes to the space between your legs and the ground.

Not that you can see it, but you undoubtedly believe him.

Usually, your first instinct is to cower and blush at an embarrassing remark like that. But it has you flustered for the wrong reasons and it’s all because Minho has shoved you into a frame of mind where you’ve lost all shame and dignity.

You’re dripping onto the floor because you can’t help it. All the welcoming pain he’s inflicted so far has fashioned into an uncontrollable reaction. That reaction is something Minho feeds off of. It makes him manic seeing the sweet results of his actions.

“This is what’s going to happen,” he starts, ignoring his excited nerves on the inside. “You’re going to tell me when you’re about to come. If you don’t, the scene ends. Got it?”

Even as spaced out as you were, his instructions were very simple. But it was a lot easier said than done and the unsure look on your face proved it.

The problem was that you could barely keep yourself from not being able to come when Minho was fucking you. Being edged with a vibrator will require just as much self-restraint if not more.  

“Wait, I-I don’t know if I can,” you mumble to him, barely able to blink.

“Is that so?” He asks, looking you dead straight in the eye. “Colour?”

There he goes again - reminding you with a simple question that no matter how many times you contradict yourself, Minho knows your best interests. At the same time, he needs to ask just in case you actually can’t continue the rest of the scene.

“Green.”

He chuckles to himself and goes to sit cross-legged in front of you, “stop doubting yourself kitten.”

Your breathing has already doubled in pace and gets even quicker when Minho turns the vibrator on and holds it against your clit. Your body seizes instantly on its impact, mouth pursed together to try and suppress your moans.

“There you go,” Minho exasperates breathily, watching your contorted expressions. “Look at that. I bet that feels good doesn’t it?”

You nod. It’s all you can do. The task of trying not to come takes up far more of your attention than attempting to answer a basic question. Minho understands that, but he’s not compassionate enough today to let it slide.

So he cranks up the setting on the vibrator to the highest level. Your mouth finally pries open, whimpering Minho’s name repeatedly and panting like you’re about to run out of air. The speed of the toy makes your hips jolt and buck even though there’s no room to fully move.

“Gonna…I’m gonna come,” you warn, eyes fluttering as the sensation between your legs intensifies.

Minho chooses not to listen and continues to hold the vibrator against your clit.

“P-Please, I’m almost...”

Your head tips back, chest heaving as your orgasm approaches before its highest peak.

“Minho please!”

Within a split second, the vibrator is gone and your body startles from the sudden lack of pleasure. Still profoundly dishevelled, your head lifts back up to glare right into Minho’s eyes.

“What?” He asks. “Did you really think I was going to let you cum? I don’t think you deserve to at this point.”

Even though Minho wasn’t explicitly clear that he was going to do it, you knew that was the moment when he started an edging session. In his mind, overstimulation would be counterproductive for you – a person who has been misbehaving a lot and shouldn’t get what they want for the time being.  

Before going back in with the vibrator, Minho begins to extend your limits. He reaches out for your nipple, pinching and rolling the nub between his finger and thumb. It makes you want to twist and turn, but with your hands bound to the sides of your knees, it’s difficult to get the movement you want.

Absorbing the contorted expressions on your face, he bathes in the sounds that come from your mouth. How your moans sound so aspirated and breathy then loud when the vibrator comes in contact with you for the second time.

There’s no preparation for the assault that toy has.

Your eyes squeeze shut in determination to eliminate any sort of pleasure inside you before it starts. Diverting an orgasm is no walk in the park and it gradually becomes more difficult. The first ‘edge’ Minho bought you to already chipped away at a significant portion of your energy. It was almost hard to grasp what you were going to be left with by the time he’s done with you.

As the vibrations rattle through the most sensitive parts of your body, Minho still doesn’t let up on your nipples, only switching to the other for more attention.

“You’re gonna be good and tell me when you’re about to come, right?” Minho assumes. “Don’t wanna disappoint me do you?”

You shake your head and swallow, “n-no.”

Seeing you become more obedient makes him smirk but also melt inside. It’s compelling enough to make him release your nipple from his fingers and use that hand to slink behind your neck.

His face closes the space towards yours, lips reaching you first. It was an odd contrast to the fact that he was being mean and had you bent over, spanked, and fucked.

Now he was being gentle.

Although, it’s no shock or surprise at how sensual Minho can be. It was the thin line between the two main shades of his personality at play.

Despite his soft touch and his tongue in your mouth, the pleasure growing inside was hard to ignore. Even though you wanted to keep kissing him, you were also under the instruction to tell him when you were about to come.

Being wordless wasn’t a hindrance for the man who’s fucked you an undisclosed amount of times. He knows your body - particularly the responses it gives when you’re being worked up.

Your breathing is jumpy and staggered. You’re moaning into and against his mouth, so much that he can feel the vibrations throughout his upper body. Just as your head tips back again, Minho catches your bottom lip and bites down.

Another loud moan escapes from your mouth just as you were about to come until Minho rips the vibrator away and leaves you shuddering.

“That was close wasn’t it?” He asks you with a small smile. His words almost made his soft and gentle nature look like a complete sham.

You jolt once more at the feel of the vibrator press once more to your sensitive clit. Already at this point, your body is so overstimulated that you think it’s impossible to build more pleasure. Every nerve inside you is on end as the euphoria escalates higher this time - greater than what you’ve felt at any point tonight.

The third ‘edge’ turned into the seventh, which turned into the twelfth, and landed you around in the twenties. Somewhere along the way, you had given up full control to Minho.  

He had succeeded in getting you to a point where you would begin to subconsciously obey him. Each time he would hold the vibrator to your clit and build you up to an orgasm, all you were capable of doing was muttering the word ‘coming’. After that, he’d pull his hand away, praise you, and wait until that orgasm dissolved before going back in.

It was repetitive - to the extent that Minho gave up tallying the many times he was edging you.

“You’re doing good for me,” he praises with a satisfied smile. “You like it so much don’t you?”

Regardless of whether he was going to extract an answer out of you at this stage, he can’t help but feel excited when you’re unable to speak. It means you’re past the verge of mindlessness - all the control you sought to harbour from him was wilfully given up.

To add to the torture, Minho would switch up the speed of vibrations every now and then. If he used the highest setting, your orgasm would build quicker before he pulls away. If he used the lowest setting, it would take longer to reach and harder to chase.

Both of these methods have you completely dazed and turned your brain into liquid. You make inaudible noises, ones that Minho finds interesting yet adorable. He’s completely stripped you back to an incoherent mess.

“Do you want to come?” Minho asks, watching you look up at him with tears in your eyes and a glazed expression. “Should I even let you come?”

Sentences are too complex for you let alone to be able to comprehend the question as your head lolls to the side. It’s impossible to simply answer while simultaneously trying to restrict yourself from coming. The latter is the one that sucks the most energy out of you and has been since Minho pulled that vibrator out.

But he sits on the idea of wanting to be merciful or absolutely brutal by not allowing you to come. Even though he was pushing the thirty minute mark of edging you to the point where you can’t speak or think, he was only half satisfied that you deserved it.

“You’ve been acting up quite a bit lately,” Minho reminds you. “Always getting me to do the work in bed, misbehaving, talking back to me…”

Your jaw is slack, still, no words come out. Instead, Minho continues to do all the talking while you try not to come without his command.

“I think you need to learn another lesson. If I don’t give you what you want, you’ll be good. But there’s always the risk that you’ll play up again,” Minho says, turning the vibrators’ speed up one notch. “Still, you’ve been good to me this evening and I want to reward your behaviour. What do you think I should do?”

“M-Min…I’m…”

They’re the only two words you’ve been able to say within the past half an hour. Minho knows you’re on the verge of coming if you start talking, and yet, he doesn’t do anything to stop you. He wants to test you, to assess how good you really are to him.

Before you start fumbling with more words again, your orgasm approaches its peak and by that time, it’s too late. Minho doesn’t even say anything about allowing you to come, you just do it regardless.

A couple of more tears roll down your face when you feel like you’re about to burst from the pressure in the pit of your stomach. None of what had been initiated an hour ago was anything short of overwhelming and all it does is continuously building aggressively.

Unable to keep up with the toy that’s pressed firmly against your clit, all you do is succumb to an out of body experience. Your head tips forward, chest heaving as your legs begin to shake in the restraints.

Minho lets out a conceited chuckle of disbelief, watching you cum over the vibrator. Whilst he appears rather annoyed that you didn’t listen to him, he cannot deny how amazing it is to see you orgasm so incredibly hard.

He revels while watching you lose your mind to the toy. This time, the ball of pleasure that has been growing exponentially doesn’t stop for anything. It makes for a blinding orgasm.

Spreading in surges and surges of pleasure, your body tremors at each one. Minho watches you while he’s completely dazed by how hard you’re actually coming. He can only stare as your orgasm shreds throughout every cell in your body until you’ve gone limp.

“Well, guess that answered that then,” he scoffs rather condescendingly then turns the vibrator off for the first time.

Since the low hum and buzz of the toy is no longer in his ears, Minho can now fully hear all of the tiny noises you’ve been making. He can hear you breathing heavily in staggers, the small, strained whines, and yet the one thing he can’t hear is you struggling against the restraints anymore.

You’ve just completely given up on trying to break free as if you have genuinely begun to enjoy the idea of not being able to move as you please.

That thought alone sends a reminder down to Minho’s now fully hard dick again. Now that you’ve unintentionally made him hard again, he wants to get his use out of this session to cum once more. This time, finally, inside of you.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” Minho growls in your ear.  

Before you know it, he’s lowering you carefully back down into the first position he secured you in, with your face down on the floor and your ass in the air.

The mess he made on you earlier was still there. Seeing it makes him sick with excitement now knowing he can do the same but inside of you. With that, Minho then frees his cock once more, rubbing the tip in between your wet folds. He pushes into your hole with ease, slicking his dick faster than he could imagine.

A sigh of relief leaves his mouth when he feels that velvety heat enclosed around him. It’s only come to his attention now just how achingly hard he is. As for you, you’re just floating absentmindedly, content with a warm fuzzy feeling inside of you as you swim around in a post-orgasmic haze.

When Minho begins to fuck you again, his ears drink up the wet sounds from in between your legs and the small whines that leave your mouth. He realises how much he enjoys it when his nails start digging into the flesh of your hips, screwing his eyes shut as he tries not to come early.

Minho just wants to be buried inside of you forever.

To top things off for him, he can feel you clenching around him. He knows for a fact that it’s not intentional because you’re in no headspace to even think right now. It then dawns on him that you’re having another orgasm.

“You’re coming again?” Minho questions in a degrading tone of voice.

Still, you can’t answer.

He chuckles deviously, almost like he’s gone mad as he keeps fucking you hard from behind, “such a slut. I already made you come once and now you’re going to come again?

Without giving a verbal answer, Minho can feel, see, and hear your actual response. The result of his cock repeatedly hitting the same sweet spot inside you has your eyes rolling back and ultimately makes you squirt.

Trembling uncontrollably once more, your walls are spasming around Minho’s dick while dripping constantly on the wooden floor.

“Holy shit,” he exasperates. “Baby.”

It’s the first time he’s made you squirt, and it takes him so much by surprise that he has to slide out of you and see the mess he helped you create. If Minho had his phone on him, he would’ve - without a doubt, taken a photo. Unfortunately, he was only able to do with a mental image, one that’s now permanently ingrained in his brain.

Rabid with excitement, Minho now knows what he needs to do next time.

He loses sight of his authority for a split second after getting too caught up in what just happened. With a shaky hand, he realigns himself with your entrance and glides back in effortlessly with a string of moans that leave his mouth.

“So fucking good for me,” Minho rasps, snapping his forward.

He gets himself into a steady, forceful rhythm and tries to drag out fucking you for as long as he can hold off. It’s difficult for him to not come when you’re so pliant and fucked out. Before he knows it, Minho is clawing into your skin again, coming hard that it causes his vision go slightly splotchy.

For a few moments, he slows his thrusts and allows his breathing to steady. To help ease himself back to earth, he continues to drag his cock in and out of your wet pussy. It was mind blowing for him just as it was for you. Minho then pulls out and observes you one final time.

The wet mess on the floor, on your ass, the way that you’re still dripping wet, the redness over your skin from his hands and belt earlier, how you’re bound on the floor - it could all easily make him hard a third time.

He almost feels high as a result, but he’s also reminded that he needs to move quickly - to get you out of your restraints. Minho unhooks all the cuffs and swiftly takes away the spreader bars before bringing you between his legs as you both rest against the bed, still on the floor.

The mess nearby doesn’t bother him at this stage. Right now, his focus is solely on you. Ensuring that you know he’s there even when you’re on cloud nine still is important. It’s the least he can do to ensure that you don’t go plummeting into subdrop - the worst possible outcome to subspace.

Coming down from two orgasms on such a large scale can be jarring if there’s no aftercare.

“Good girl,” Minho whispers in your ear, hoping that it’ll reach your mind that’s floating elsewhere. “You did so well for me baby.”

His arms have wrapped themselves around your body as he soothes you with gentle words of praise. From the mirror across the room, he can see how spaced out you look now. The frontal view of your body grants Minho to see just how yielding you are.

How vulnerable your body is to him right now.

His right hand lies across your abdomen while his left hand slowly makes its way down to your oversensitive clit. A small, strained whine escapes your mouth and like some sort of conditioned behaviour, your legs seem to slowly pry themselves further open.

Minho smirks. He seriously can’t get enough of you. If he hadn’t of fucked you already, he would’ve come untouched just seeing you so obedient.

“The things you do to me,” he whispers against the back of your shoulder.

Minho watches his fingers in the mirror and begins to wonder if they have minds of their own. They travel down slightly past your sensitive clit to the cum that has been leaking out of you. The pads of his fingers collect what’s of it, only to bring it back up to your clit, caressing and massaging around and over the nub.

Your reactions are subtle but effective for Minho to pick up on. He can tell that his fingers must feel different in comparison to the vibrator. They’re more attentive and soft which makes the sensation between your legs even greater and gets you over the edge quicker than ever.

“That’s it baby,” Minho encourages. “One more for me.”  

His eyes never leave the mirror - never leave from where his fingers are until he makes you tremble and come once more. Moans continue to lodge in your throat as Minho helps you ride out your high until every ounce of energy within you is spent.

Within the next twenty minutes, you are blissfully floating. It takes you a while to come down from such an intense session that by the end of it, you're left wondering how you have damp hair, a fresh pair of comfy clothes on, and now back on the bed.

Minho, who is sitting on the edge of the mattress, has been rubbing moisturising lotion onto your legs - especiallywhere your knees are. Next to him on the bed is a towel with a couple of ice packs for what you only can assume is for the tenderness that has started to emerge.

The aching around those areas was a reminder that you spent quite some time on the ground. Not to mention the restraints…

“Hi baby,” Minho says quietly, studying your tired face.

“Hi,” You reply, too exhausted to even move. “How long was I out for?”

He twists the lid back on the tub of lotion and sets it on the bedside table. He then grabs the towel and places it over both of your knees followed by an ice pack on each one.

“Not long. Ten minutes after we showered. You can go back to sleep if you want?” He replies.

You shake your head, “no it’s okay, I just want to see you.”

He smiles softly then scoots up the bed a bit to get closer to you, “how are you feeling?”

“Mm, good,” you hum. “A bit like jelly though.”

Minho chuckles, feeling a bit of guilt there, “yeah I’m not surprised. That would’ve taken a lot out of you.”

“I loved every bit of it though,” you reassure him.

The last thing you want is to place doubt in his mind about what he’s doing in the bedroom. Then again, Minho trusts you enough for you to go to him if there’s something you’re not comfortable with, and vice versa.

“Judging by how hard you actually came, I’m not surprised,” he says, which earns him a playful smack to his arm by you.

“Quiet,” you reply sarcastically. “I don’t want to hear that.”

“It was hot,” he replies, ignoring what you think about it. “So hot that I wanted to record it.”

“Maybe you should’ve…”

“We’ll discuss it next time,” Minho says then leans and meets your lips. He kisses you so softly and tenderly before coming back up. “For now, just rest as much as you need to. I’m ordering dinner then we can eat together while watching a movie.”

“Sounds perfect.”

-

A/N: Omg what is thisssss. Sometimes I surprise myself with some of the stuff that I wrote, but anyway, please enjoy. I really want to write another piece similar to this except the reader goes into subdrop. I’m not too sure if anyone will be interested in that but if anyone is, please let me know and I’ll write something up lol

Note: I strictly do not permit any copying, editing, rewriting or remakes of my work nor do I allow them to be uploaded to any other site or social media platform. Tumblr is the only site I use to post this type of content so if you see it elsewhere, then it has been stolen.