#I am not playing your game Sir | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trulyumai · 2 months ago

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jealousy within

—: pairing - caracalla / wife! reader

—: synopsis - all you wanted was to mingle, dance a little and talk to someone who wouldn’t yell or berate you. You hadn’t meant to anger your husband, or cause the death of an innocent man.

—: warnings: anger, violence, talk of death, gutting, grabbing.

You didn’t mean to upset him, not really.

Making an already emotional— somewhat unstable, emperor jealous wasn’t the smartest move. But it was the one you chose and decided to execute.

Of course, festivities began quite early. Caracalla himself had arranged the time, the place. Geta didn’t have the energy to spare to fight about such things, he only nodded along with a tight lipped smile, eyes glancing from his boasting brother, to you, always quiet, always watching.

And that’s where it really began, with you, watching. Seeing Caracalla mingle and dance with these strangers— claiming that they adore him, honor him. It was a farce, almost everyone was scared of the short haired ginger, more so than geta at times. He would flick his temper on and off with a quick switch— almost was an impressive feat until a vase would find its way smashed into your backside.

All you wanted was to join. Have a dance or talk of your own, it didn’t occur to you that Caracalla would be watching, sizing you up and down or threateningly pushing past other citizens to get a glimpse of you dancing with the happy stranger.

“It would be my honor, my lady.” The man’s hand, from who you signaled to earlier and approached, reached out for you, happily accepting your request in mingling, not even bothering to question such a request.

For who would deny their empress a dance?

“You look lovely today, my empress,” holding onto the softly robed man, you laughed. “Wanna know something?” Hearing a hum, you continued. “I think you’re the first to compliment me tonight.”

The man let out a low pitched gurgle, shock filled the spaces of his face before words overtook him. “That musnt be,”

Others danced around you, giggling and enjoying the carefree scene.

“It is!”

“Then they are all fools, my lady. For you look absolutely radiant tonight.”

You would have replied politely, if not for the voice of your husband cutting through the space.

“She does, doesn’t she?” It was almost painful— how quick your neck snapped back to look at the man.

“My liege!” The man seized back, arms now deflated at the sides while a sweat dotted across his brow. “It’s an honor to see you so—“

“An honor, Really?” Caracallla wasn’t known for his patience, it was becoming obvious of such a thing. A wide grin had spread across his face, a golden tooth gleamed against the candlelight and wild hair splayed around the golden robes he chose for tonight’s banquet.

“An honor that must be, to dine in my halls, eat by my side and court my woman!”

“N-No, your majesty I wouldn’t dare!”

Caracalla tssked, slow and mockingly. A hand guided its way to your back, until it slithered around the bend of your waist. “I wonder… are you as good at fighting as you are with running your mouth?”

“I—I am no fighter, my— my liege, but an apprentice for Sir Tomund.”

Loud and harsh, the shorter emperor called out. “Sir tomund!”

A skinny, scrawny man with more wrinkles than hair pushed his way through the gawking citizens.

Answering with only a raise to the head, Caracalla went on. “Would you be utterly ruined if, let’s say your, “esteemed,” apprentice found a new way of living?”

The elder man wanted no trouble, especially from the likes of a man such as Caracalla. Unpredictably was the game and only he could play it so well. There would be no winner but the ginger haired emperor.

“No, your grace. I would find another.”

Caracallas grip left you, both hands were now splayed out in front of him as if he was welcoming a deity into his arms.

“Just as I thought. Come, little apprentice, the guards will show you to your new quarters!”

Now desperate the man moved closer, his eyes wide with newfound fear, tears began to gather at the crevice of his lids.

He was utterly terrified.

“Please—no! My lady, say something, please!”

All eyes now soaked up your figure. Standing just beside your husband, wringing your hands in a nervous motion. “I—I,” with so many eyes upon you, anxiety creeped up your spine with a slow, cold drag.

Caracalla awaited your answer, almost wanting to open your mouth for you and claw out the words himself. Gods how he hated waiting, especially for such trivial things that were destined for death anyway.

“What she means to say,” butting in, the Emperor cackled to himself, thinking of a new way to torture the boundary stepping man.

“Is, you have two choices. You can fight in the ring—die an honorable death!” Cheers and hollers cried out, signaling the love of the coliseum.

“Or you can die here, tonight. Be gutted by me and mopped up for everyone to see.”

Bringing a hand up to his chest, you lightly pushed against it, garnering the attention of the babbling man— If only for a second.

“My love, he didn’t mean it. Please, let’s just retire for the night, leave this nonsense alone—

“Retire?! After he touched you, whispered those honey dew words into your ear like he had the right!” A fire was lit in the emperors eyes, one you had seen many times before.

Such a flame was only lit by the promises of blood. Caracalla had already made his decision; the stranger was to die.

It would be your fault.

“Please, please no, I never meant for this!” No matter how much the man wailed and cried out, the guards were already signaled for. There steps were heavy and calculated, only stopping mere inches from you and the emperor.

“Seize him.”

“No!” Grabbing the man, they pushed him to his knees, scraping the flesh against the concreted floors. They didn’t move or flinch when the stranger rebelled against them— shoving and pushing his way towards potential freedom.

But no matter how much the man fought, the guards gripped remained.

His fate remained.

Turning, Caracalla hummed to himself, he found the corner of the room, where dormant spears and swords lay for customary shows and fights that get displayed in the hall.

With a finger on one of the old handles, his hands tightened around the blade. It lifted easily against the strength, pulling out of the sheath with a gleaming glow.

Caracalla turned again, only his eyes were on the clean weapon, in awe of its violent nature and sharpness.

“I want you to do it,” by the gods, surely he wasn’t serious. “I need to see you do it.” Your husband urged, practically pushing the blade in your shaking hands.

“Please,” he begged. With glossy eyes, caracalla finally looked at you, truly looked at you.

Only you could differentiate madness and desperation. Notice the way his skin got all clammy, notice how his lips couldn’t stop quivering.

He was just as scared as you, but for all the wrong reasons.

“Do this for me. Do this for me and I’ll know you weren’t lying. I can believe you!” He urged, already planting his palms upon your shoulders, facing you towards the downturned citizen.

It seems you just couldn’t catch a breath. Your chest heaved up and down, you felt so hot— so cold at the same time. The white robe clung to your skin with a purpose, making everything itchy and tight while a static shot up your back.

“Do it. Do it, pretty wife.” His voice was low now, lips brushing against your ear tentatively.

And so you did.

You swung for a critical spot. Hoping—praying the man wouldn’t have to suffer another blow.

A giggle, mean and high sounded out just by you, almost too loudly because of it’s proximity.

“Again!”

Swinging, your hair came undone. The once clean and elegant braids were now loose and unturned. With more and more swings, blood began to mat at the tips, spatters ran down your neck and arms, covering the majority of skin with a rich and thick maroon.

You must have blacked out after the fifth or sixth swing. Because when you came to, the crowd was gone. The body wasn’t in shambles in front of you, nor were you even in the same room.

A blackened chamber lay in front of you. Your body was tucked into a king sized bed and a cotton robe had entranced your being.

Startled by your sudden movement, a hand shot up from the bed, placing itself upon your tummy.

“What is it?” A groggy, deep voiced caracalla mumbled. His other hand rubbed against his closed eye, smudging the sleep from his vision.

“W—what?”

“Go back to sleep, wife, im too tired for these games today.” Flipping over, your husbands back now took up your sight. However he was still close, the back of his legs grazed against yours in habitual confidence.

With a hunched form you grabbed at your hair, searching for the remains of blood to coat your hands and memory. It didn’t. There was no stain to be seen, no red chunks to pull out and weep about.

And that would have eased your mind, relaxed your eyes just enough to find an ounce of sleep, if not for your occasional robes laying haphazardly on the marbled floors, caked in a dark— coagulated heap of blood.

#x reader #fanfiction #caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla #caracalla x you #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla x you #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator x reader #angst #anger #jealousy

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prael · 1 month ago

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Day 11: Threats And Treats

Newjeans Danielle x male reader smut

words: 4,585 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

She is furious.

She's been in your class for barely a few months, but now she gives you an ultimatum. Either you change her grade, or she'll report you for sexual harassment.

It's a threat that you laugh off.

You have no reason to be afraid. Sure, Danielle's been throwing herself at you ever since you became her teacher. She wears her skirts too short, and her tops too low, and the way she asks you to tutor her privately after school can't be entirely innocent.

But it's not as if you've done anything wrong. You have, in fact, ignored Danielle's advances.

And there's no understating just how hard that has been. She has perched herself on your desk after class and given you a view of her lacy underwear. She has worn her gym shorts to meet you, and the tight material has hugged the cheeks of her firm little ass so snugly that it makes you want to drool. Painted her lips in that deep red that you know would look perfect wrapped around your cock. She brushed up against you in the hallways with a sly little grin and pressed her soft little tits into your side.

"Danielle, get the hell out of my office."

She turns up her nose without a word and she storms off.

She doesn't report you. Instead, she shows up at your office an hour later.

You have a lot of other papers to grade. You've had a long week. And Danielle's attitude is making your day even harder. You are in no mood to play games with this bratty girl. You don't look up when she enters. You barely glance at her.

"I'm not changing your grade," you say dismissively as you mark another awful essay with an F and then flip it over. You wonder how Danielle would react if you gave her a failing grade instead.

Danielle is undaunted. "You have to. You know that's not the grade I deserved."

"I scored you exactly like I did the others, and that is the score you got," you reply curtly, looking over another paper. "I can show you the rubric if you'd like, but it won't change your score. Now please, I'm very busy."

She steps closer. You don't bother to look up until Danielle places one slender finger underneath your chin, tilts up your face, and looks straight down at you. The bratty young woman has some nerve. Her touch sends a tingle down your spine, but you try to ignore it.

"I can make things difficult for you," she says. She's giving you this piercing gaze. Her hair is tied back in a neat ponytail and her lips are bright red again.

"Miss, if you touch me again or make any demands of me, I'll have to call someone to have you removed from my office." You look right back into those eyes, trying to keep a cool facade.

"And how would that look? If someone walked in and I am kneeled on your desk." She whispers as she raises her right knee onto it first and then lifts herself up. "Maybe I could have a tear going down my face." She runs her finger down the side of her cheek. "Or maybe I could have my legs spread. What would they think?"

"Get the fuck off my desk."

"Oh, sir. I do like it when you swear at me. It's kind of hot." She smirks and she shuffles further onto your desk. Her knees push away papers and files. She's such a dainty little thing—you've thought that so many times—that you could lift her right off and carry her away by her firm little ass. You wonder if that would turn her on. "I'm not getting down. Not unless you give me the grade I want."

"Danielle. Get off my desk right now." You warn again.

"Sir, we both know I'm not a B student, don't we?" She asks as she runs her hand up her slender thigh, bringing up her skirt with it and giving you a full view of her lacey pink underwear. Her bare thighs are smooth. Her panties look delicate like you could just rip through them with a single hard tug.

She knows exactly what she's doing, the little minx.

"Are you going to change my grade for me?"

She rests her skirt at her hips, leaving herself exposed right in your eyeline.

"Danielle, you're a student, this is unacceptable." There's a quiver in your voice, but it's still the truth. This is wrong, and she needs to be punished. You want to bend her over your knee, pull down her panties and give her a damn good spanking until her cheeks turn the same shade as her lips. Then you want to pull down your trousers, take out your cock and... No.

You wince at yourself. These are not thoughts you can afford to entertain. No matter how tempting Danielle makes them. No matter how good she'd feel (you know she would feel so good). No, you can't do that.

"Sir, listen to me. Either let me work hard for you and earn my A. Or I tell the principal. Tell her how you tried to fuck me," she purrs. Her eyes flash as she challenges you.

She leans forward, pushing more files off the desk as she does. Danielle's small breasts are nearly to your face, and you wonder how her soft flesh would feel pressed against your skin.

"Well?"

Her perfume wafts around you, filling your nostrils with her sweet, intoxicating smell.

"Please. Stop this," you whisper, trying to remain strong. But you know that you can't resist her much longer.

She reaches a hand up and brushes your cheek and her touch tingles against your skin. It wouldn't be so difficult to pull her in right now and give in to all your urges.

"No."

She leans in and whispers, "Then I'll make things even more difficult."

Danielle suddenly clambers off the desk, pulling papers and stationary with her, and down to her knees. Your chair rolls back a few inches, but now her head is right between your legs.

"This isn't going to work," you lie, your breath hitching. Your heart beats faster in your chest as you realize what is happening. You don't want it to work, you tell yourself. You can't want it to work. Not when she is a goddamn student.

"It will. Trust me," she whispers.

And then you feel the button of your jeans pop and hear the sound of the zipper. You can't look down, you just can't. Instead, you stare straight forward at the clock in front of you. Watching it tick slowly.

Your breathing becomes heavier as she fiddles with the waist of your boxers. She's going to get her grade. There's nothing you can do. She knows that now, and it makes her giggle. It is a girly, innocent little giggle, and that makes everything feel so much worse.

You can feel your cock swelling and hardening underneath her fingers, and you know that there's no way to stop her now. Her hand is wrapped around your shaft. And then, her hot breath on your skin, followed by the wet touch of her tongue.

Your eyes shut tight and your hands clench the armrests. Her tongue slides around you and then, her mouth closes over your head.

"Oh, fuck." You breathe. Your whole body is tingling as Danielle starts to suck your cock, her lips wrapped so tightly around you, her mouth so warm and welcoming. She's a little bit sloppy, a little bit too fast, but you can't help loving every moment. She has you in the palm of her hand now, quite literally, and she's working your cock with all the enthusiasm you could ever want from a bratty girl who's decided that you're going to give her exactly what she wants.

Your hands clench into fists, but as Danielle keeps bobbing up and down your cock, you just can't keep them still. You've resisted this girl for so long. You've been a good man, a decent man, despite her constant efforts to seduce you.

You can't be good now.

You let go of the armrest and reach down, and you place a firm hand on her head. She squeals with surprise and delight as you force her down onto your cock, making her take you deeper than she was prepared to go. And that noise only makes it feel even better, sending tingling pleasure all through your skin. You can feel the head of your cock hitting the back of her throat and the pressure as she gags, the vibrations as she moans, and you don't let up. You don't want to.

You hate yourself for it; you know how wrong it is; you know how it would play out if anyone found out; you know you should feel guilty as sin, and yet all you can feel is pleasure as Danielle bobs up and down on your cock.

You dare to indulge at the sight: a beautiful girl on her knees, sucking your cock, taking you deep into her mouth. Lips laden in red gloss stretched around your cock. Wide-eyed, with mascara-coated lashes. You can feel your balls tightening. The heat in your stomach rises as the pleasure becomes overwhelming. She sucks harder, she moans a little louder, and you know you're close.

Maybe it's just how wrong it is that makes it all feel so good. Or maybe it's just because it's her.

"Sir?" She says it between planting kisses on the tip of your cock, all while her dainty little hand jerks at the shaft, her fingers barely wrapping around you. She's been teasing you for so long now. Months and months. You can hardly stand it anymore. "I want to taste it."

Oh god, how you want to give it to her.

"Danielle..." you gasp.

"I've thought about it so often. When you were in the classroom talking theories and applications, all I wanted to do was get down on my knees and let you fuck my face."

"Danielle..." It's all you can say, because what can you say? This is your student, for god's sake.

"You know how many times you left me soaked after a lesson?" Her voice is low and husky, filled with desire, and she has this little twist in her wrist every time she strokes your cock, and she is driving you crazy. "I'd run home and slip my fingers into my underwear and make myself cum."

"Stop."

"Want it, don't you?" she taunts, and then as if it's some rehearsed move, she lets go of your cock. The absence of touch makes you ache with need. She's smiling so wide that her eyes smile too, and there's a gentle laugh because she knows exactly what she's doing. "Then you better change my grade."

She sits back on her haunches, still between your legs, looking up at you with expectation. She glances over her shoulder to your computer—a suggestion (or a demand) to change her grade right this very second, or else the fun stops.

You're a weak man, aren't you? She has your cock out and your heart pounding. She's giving you an ultimatum that you can't refuse, so you're standing up, looking down at her. Your pants have slipped to the ground. Danielle's face is level with your throbbing, pulsating cock.

"You win," you say with a sigh, as you reach over her to type on the computer, changing her grade. You have barely hit the enter key before she's up and wrapping her lips around you again, her moan vibrating your cock. Your reward for breaking the rules—for betraying every ounce of professional integrity.

Your reward feels so good. You grab a handful of her hair and force her head back down onto you. You watch yourself disappear between those red-stained lips again. You don't hold back. Standing over the cute girl, your cock in her mouth, you thrust your hips forward. Every time you hit the back of her throat you feel her gag. She's trying so hard to suppress the reflex. She wants you to believe that she's an experienced little slut, but her red cheeks and her wet eyes give away the truth.

"Good girl. Take it all."

Danielle looks up at you with those pretty doe eyes, so full of mischief. She has won, and you both know it. But you can't feel sorry now. Not with her on her knees, and her lips around you. This has to happen. So you're fucking her mouth, pinning her against your desk, while she grasps at her own chest. Clenching at her breasts through the material of her shirt and squeezing her thighs together in some attempt to satisfy the burning desire you know she feels.

Her jaw hangs open, leaving you nothing more than a hole to use. You can't keep this up anymore, the tension in your body can't take it any more, and neither can she. She's gasping, choking, spluttering, fighting for her breath as you use your grip on her hair to make her swallow every inch.

A smudge on her cheek, where a tear has spilt, and mascara is starting to stain.

"Look at me," you snap, jerking her by the hair as her focus drifts.

"Yes, sir," she replies obediently, locking her eyes right on yours while looking up. You bite your lip. It won't be long. The heat has been rising, and you know you're close.

She seems to know it too, and her eyes seem to say just how much she wants you to fill her. They show you how much she wants to take her victory. That's enough to send you right over the edge.

"Mmh!" she moans as you push your entire cock into her mouth. Her gagging and protesting does nothing to prevent the contractions from running through your cock. She feels like heaven as your cock jerks, and your eyes shut tight while pleasure overwhelms you. You can feel yourself pumping load after load into her waiting mouth. Thick rope after thick rope. You didn't know you could cum like this. You haven't cum like this since...ever.

She's working you as much as her tired state allows, her tongue shifting and coaxing out your fluids. Draining you of every last drop of cum.

You pull out and she gasps for air, chest heaving. Her face is marked, her lipstick smudged. What's left on her lips looks almost as if it's bruising, and you revel in it. She looks spent. Completely used. She's even pulled one hand up to cover her mouth. With this expression, she can't pull off a confident slut act, and this satisfies you. She's panting, like a dog after a hard run.

You both win. Mutual victory. Satisfaction and defeat.

You slide down into your chair, the adrenaline running its course. For now, everything is exactly the way it should be. As if none of this has ever happened. She's checking the screen and grinning. Her eyelids flutter, and she smiles back at you—almost bashful. Relief that she got what she came for.

Danielle is just happy, while you're thinking about all the ways you would like to pin her to your desk.

It's now well into spring, the snow has melted and the seasons are changing. You've been waiting for a while. Weeks have passed without her coming into your class or your office or talking to you about the latest assignment.

Not that you've minded. After your last encounter, you're prepared for a little bit of distance. You're still thinking about how things went. (You're always thinking about it.)

It's all going to change today. See, the latest grades were posted this morning, and you imagine that Danielle is not going to be pleased with hers. You picture her stopping by your office shortly, demanding another change, and of course, you're going to oblige. You're getting hard just at the thought.

Even the deepest, darkest, dirtiest corners of your mind hadn't prepared for this. You didn't know Danielle's schedule, of course, but it becomes abundantly clear she came right here from cheerleader practice. Athletic, tiny, and body-hugging—all words appropriate to describe the tiny little cheer uniform she is sporting. Her shorts short enough to almost reveal her full cheeks, and her top is way too thin. Thin enough, in fact, for you to tell that Danielle wasn't wearing a bra underneath, and you could see her pert, perky little nipples—making her excitement obvious.

"Sir, what the fuck is this?" Danielle holds out her phone and points at her grade: a B+. "You'd better do something about it."

She stands across from your desk, the image of youthful indifference, her hip cocked and her arms crossed. It is a stance filled with sass.

"I think you failed to take my instruction, my guidance, properly and for that, I had to dock marks."

"And if I show you now, how well I take instruction, will you increase it?" Her head tilts slightly and her teeth rake over her lower lip, and her tone is so impudent, and something about her attitude makes the blood surge through your veins. It's like every word from her insolent mouth is spurring you on to teach her a lesson. Make her moan and scream your name. Fill her up like you did before and erase that smirk from her pretty, pretty little face.

"There is a little lee-way." A teasing, mischievous giggle. "Maybe there's something we can agree on?" You suggest, your eyes tracking the curve of her toned legs. You can feel your pants getting uncomfortably tight at the thought of making Danielle squeal.

"Where do you want me, sir?"

You both know that the bartering is pointless. This deal isn't new, it's a continuation. "Bend over my desk. Like the good little girl that you are."

She strolls right around your desk, swaying her hips a little bit more than necessary, and you aren't sure if the minx is putting a show on for your sake or whether it's just her natural saunter. Either way, as soon as she puts her elbows down on your desk, you're sure that her display was planned to the smallest detail.

Slowly, she pushes her ass up and back, looking over her shoulder at you. "Can I have a word, please, sir? I'm having some trouble understanding," she calls over to you, the most suggestive smile creasing her face, and you try not to let the effect of her bratty charms bother you.

"Danielle, I gave you ample explanation of the assignment." You remind her. You can't keep the humour out of your voice.

"This is true, but...it's the sort of thing I really need drilled into me." Danielle presses the very tip of one blood-red fingernail to the desk and draws it in the shape of a circle.

"I know the syllabus can be a little... hard," you say as you stand behind her. You lean forward and place your hands on the desk. The cheap wood groans in protest. You can smell her intoxicating perfume. She's definitely been driving you crazy.

"So hard," she whispers as you lean over her body.

"Do you need some extra attention, Danielle?"

"I do, sir." She shifts her body, rolling her lower back and standing on the toes, pressing the curve of her pert little ass against your crotch. "Please, sir."

It has been weeks since you had her. How could you resist a come-on like that? How could anyone? Slowly you slide your hands down her sides and grab her hips. You feel a wave of perverted, forbidden lust as you grip her flesh; she feels so good. She shivers slightly at your touch, which gives you a wicked thrill.

Danielle is so small underneath you, so petite. Your hands move from her waist, stroking along the smooth material of the skirt. She draws in a short breath as you place your hand underneath the little article of clothing. She had removed her panties, as you suspect, she would. So there is nothing to prevent you from stroking the delicate, velvety soft skin of her lovely little pussy. It's already wet—which isn't surprising, but it's even hotter than you could have dreamed.

"Danielle, you don't have underwear," you murmur.

"I know sir, so I guess the next part should be easy." She starts to wiggle against your hand, drawing up that tiny skirt a little further, displaying herself to you.

She's perfectly prepared, so you draw your finger deeper between her soft, silken lips, finding her entrance, teasing her gently, drawing mewling, desperate sounds out of the slutty girl bent over your desk. You take a moment just to savour her gasps and little whimpers. To drink in her pleasure. There's something so damn satisfying, knowing the effect that you have on her. Then, you start to pull your fingers down, toward her beautiful little clit, stroking it, working her little bundle of nerves while her excited sounds just get more and more needy.

You continue to play with her pussy while enjoying the way that her tiny breasts squish against the desk, how her hands are clasping desperately for purchase and how she rolls her little hips against you, eagerly seeking out more. She's so consumed, so lost in the moment that it doesn't surprise you when the question finally falls out of her lips.

"Sir, am I going to get an A?"

That smug fucking little minx. She knows exactly what she's doing. "Yes, Danielle. An A." You promise.

"Give it to me, sir," she says with the most expectant little sigh, and the temptation proves too much for you. So you remove your hand and slip your fingers in your mouth. Tasting her. Savouring her. How far you'd gone. She groans in disappointment as you withdraw, but she stops protesting as she hears the sound of your belt. Is it anticipation that has goosebumps blooming on her skin?

When you've freed yourself from your pants, it is no struggle at all to position your cock between those sweet, soft folds and draw a moan from both of you.

"What are you waiting for?" she whines impatiently, forcing herself back against you, enticing you.

Your only response is to smile and continue to enjoy the sight of her pinned against your desk. Her bare, narrow lower back is fully exposed, leading to such a cute, full little ass that is just aching to be taken. You marvel at her every detail as the head of your cock presses right up against her tight hole, tempting you into her body, luring you in.

"Sir," she whispers, a husky, throaty invitation.

Before any more of her words can fill the air, you start to push inside her slowly. Every inch that passes makes her draw a sharper breath and keeps her gasping for air.

Every whimper that passes her lips spurs you on, while every quivering contraction her pussy performs tempts you to pound every single inch of yourself into her. Every deep noise draws your attention, everything she does is captivating.

By the time your every inch is settled within her, you reach down and grip her shoulder, drawing her body into yours. And she's so darn adorable that she struggles to form the words that tumble over her lips, leaving her face twisted in a mask of effort and need. Her breath stills every time you rock inside her.

You lean over her body, your chest against her back, wanting to sink deeper into her; feeling the beat of her heart and the heat of her flushed skin.

In this moment, as the pace increases, time slows. Danielle's lithe body bows against you with every thrust. Words aren't necessary, her moans are better. They tell you just how much you are pleasing her.

She earns every part of that bump in grade through the slick tightness of her cunt, the arching of her back, the fluttering, clenching massaging strokes, and the beautiful noises tumbling from her cherry lips.

"Oh, my god..." Danielle grunts. "Harder!"

And, of course, that pleasure has a price—your control is slipping, the need is steadily becoming more intense and it's harder to resist, especially when it feels so good, your hips keep rocking, every stroke producing incredible frissons of pure, white heat. And the heat grows. You keep picking up speed, keeping her moans coming.

It isn't long before that gorgeous girl, taut and eager, clenches against your unyielding shaft, as if afraid it would disappear within her. Her breath catches as she reaches the pinnacle, before coming apart with a shrieked vowel. She bites her lower lip and digs her nails into the desk. She rides it out until every last drop of pleasure drains from her body.

While watching Danielle lose herself, your resolve disintegrates. You pick up the tempo, pounding into the pliable, supple and downright fuckable cheerleader. Her sharp, ragged gasps dissolve into a plaintive moan. Every stroke drives you closer and closer to the end.

You lean forward and whisper in Danielle's ear, "I'm gonna cum."

She nods her head quickly and urges you on, "Do it, sir."

So, you wrap one arm around her body and press your chest flush against her back, feeling the movements of her every muscle in time with yours. You can barely believe just how incredible this girl is.

"Fill me, sir," she begs as she reaches for your face. Danielle takes you by surprise as she turns to face you and places a kiss on your lips. It's light and quick, but it makes you spill your load inside her all the same. That slight, innocent contact seals the deal and your whole world erupts.

You're drowning. Drowning in pleasure and satisfaction, the throes of ecstasy wash over you as you continue to buck against your perfect little student. Every thrust leaves you breathing heavier than the last, and it isn't long before your forehead is pressed against her naked back as you pump another wave of sticky, liquid heat deep into Danielle's trembling body.

It is impossible to measure how long you two remain there, the line between where she begins and you end blurred. When you eventually start to untangle yourselves, she slinks away and returns your shared gaze with a satisfied grin.

You sit back and catch your breath, while she starts gathering herself together.

Your eyes trace her figure, the shape of her breasts, the slope of her neck. Danielle notices, because her lips curl up just a little more, and she shoots you the cutest little wink. "I know what you did, sir."

"And what was that?" you ask, playing along. Danielle picks up her jacket from the floor and then slips it on. You watch every movement she makes, your heart thumping in your chest as if trying to escape your ribcage.

She cocks her head. "Well, I think it was pretty clever, actually. But I've caught onto your game, sir. That assignment was perfect, we both know it." Danielle leans in, placing her hand on your chest. "Which means that this was never about grades. In future, you can just ask me, sir." She places a quick kiss on your lips.

#Danielle smut #newjeans smut #male reader #kpop smut #m reader #Danielle x reader #dani smut #praelmas #smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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dcxdpdabbles · 2 months ago

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The Summoned Demon Part 4

#Holiday Requests I would love updates to Child Support, The Summoned Demon, and Passion For Fashion

Danny had no idea where he was.

No one around him could understand what he was saying, and he couldn't read anything either. After running through the suburbs, Danny had made his way on foot into the large city. There was nothing familiar about where the cults had summoned him to.

Everything looked wrong. The clothes, the cars, the street ads, and even the people. He stood on the side of a corner, attempting to make heads or tails of his surroundings, but people passed by him like water in a river.

It must have been the fact he was covered in dirt.

Thankfully, a group of teens had been willing to stop his frantic shouting. One girl had snapped her fingers, then waved rectangular screens at him- What was that thing?- speaking into it.

The rectangular screen spoke in what he thinks is a different language, but not anything Danny could understand. Her face fell but she seemed determined to get him to talk into her rectangle. When he did, it gave her soft buz like the ones that are played on game shows where a constant gets a wrong answer.

The girl had looked at her companions, utterly lost, until one of them stepped forward and started playing charades. There were a lot of vague hand motions and desperate gestures when he attempted to explain his situation, and the children were able to direct him to the police station.

No one on staff was able to translate what he was saying. However, they did seem mighty alarmed by how he was covered in dirt and speaking a foreign language. They had given him some water and a change of clothes and sat him in a room with a two-way mirror. Danny felt safe knowing the authorities were on his side, sipping his water at the little table while he waited.

Time moved slowly when more and more police officers entered, attempting to establish communication with him. They placed a list of writing in front of him, each line a different symbol, and he knew they were meant to be a language.

The aging man with white streaks, dusting his red hair, adjusted his glasses, then pointed to the first sentence on the list. He said something slowly, patting his chest with an open palm, then pointing more determinedly at the line.

"Is that your language?" Danny asks, scanning the lines and realizing he can't read one. He shakes his head "I'm sorry I don't understand."

The old man frowns and then stands. He places a chocolate bar on the table- or what Danny thinks is one, but he can't read what it says, and it's quickly becoming frustrating how much that's happening- before heading out of the room. A few more minutes go by when a man wearing one of the police uniforms but a long, more outdated one walks through the door.

Danny blinks up at him as the man carefully considers his face. He avoids looking at the bullet holes decorating the cop's chest. "Wow, you seem pretty young. Wonder what you did to get old Gordon to personally question you?"

Danny chances a look at the two-way mirror before muttering. "I didn't do anything, sir. I got kidnapped."

The man turns around, arms still folded over his chest, but the second he realizes the door has remained firmly shut, he whirls around, gawking at Danny. "You can see me?"

"Yes, sir. I'm half ghost on my mother's side." He jokes but still maintains a level of respect. The Fentons joked around often, but they always respected those in service until the person proved unworthy of the uniform.

"Holy shit!" The policeman laughs. "I don't think you can pass something like that down the family tree, kid."

Danny cracks a smile. "You be surpirse."

"Guess I am. Who knew I would be shocked twice after my death?!" The man's jolly laugh makes Danny relax just a little. He doesn't even mind that the ghost's heaving chest is splatting a few drops of red on the table. "Haven't laughed like that in years. By the way, kid, my name is Alex. Alex Anderson."

"I'm Danny Fenton." Danny smiles, offering his hand for a shake. Alex hesitates, reaching out only to have his face brighten when he makes solid contact and eagerly pumps their joint limbs up and down. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Pleasure is all mine." Alex claps his hands, settling- somewhat as he goes slightly through the metal- in the chair opposite Danny. He laces his fingers under his chin and offers another impish grin. "So what's this about a kidnapping?"

Danny straightens, rapidly recapping his last few days. Alex doesn't interrupt, listening with an intensity that tells Danny he's being taken seriously even if he's still smiling like there is nothing wrong in the world. When Danny is done, he has to take a breath and top off his drink as Alex considers his words.

"That's a rough couple of days, Kid," Alex says at the end, leaning more on his hands. Danny nods sadly, feeling utterly exhausted. He's not sure where the nice older man went, but no one had come to check up on him for a while, and he's starting to feel cagy.

Alex considers him a little longer before throwing his head back with a sigh. "Alright. I guess I need to help you escape. I feel too guilty if I just let Gordon hand you over."

"What?"

Alex stands, pretending to stretch his arms over his head. He nods to the two-way mirror, clicking his tongue at it. "Yeah, Gordon called Batman a while ago when they were trying to figure out your language. This place will be swarming with vigilantes and their magic users any minute now."

"Batman?" Danny repeats, rising to his feet. "What's Batman?"

"The guy who put you in that cave cage." Alarm fills Danny's veins as he realizes that this whole time, the police were setting him up to be returned to the cultist. Was the entire city in on this!? "Normally, I wouldn't be making deals with people Gordon deems unsafe, but given that you're half ghost, I've chosen to ignore my morals in solitary."

"But why?! Why would they give me back to them!?" He demands, rising to his feet and backing away until his back hits a wall.

"I was Gordon's first partner," Alex tells him, gesturing at his chest. "I died to make sure the idiot got back to his wife and kids. Ever since he's done everything he could to make Gotham safe. As much as Batman makes me uneasy, he is doing a good job cleaning this place up and doing what I can't do anymore. I'm trapped inside this building, but I've seen the bats plenty of times, so I know they are not dangerous. I also know they will shoot first or ask questions later; this is your only chance to get away until you can establish communication. Take it."

Alex gestures to the wall behind Danny. "Can you faze through?"

Danny lets himself sink through the stone just as the door is kicked up, and three cops rush in with raised guns. He ends up in another interrogation room- because that's where he was. They had not placed him somewhere safe; they had set him up for capture- where a man handcuffed to the table screams. Danny apologizes desperately, trying to get the guy to stop yelling, as Alex yanks him by the collar of his shirt.

"No time for manners, Kid! You have to get out of the building. Bat's just landed on the roof!" Danny races through the walls, ignoring the people who shout and scatter at his sight until Alex leads him straight out of the building. The ghost stops behind a window, where chains had manifested and wrapped around him, preventing him from going forward.

Alex doesn't seem to pay them any mind as he points in a direction. "Head that way until you see a giant clown. The Joker is currently in custody, but his old hideout has thousands of ghosts. Someone is bound to know what to do. If that fails, follow the road with the white bricks to Old Gotham. Lots of Magic is rooted there. Maybe you'll find something."

"How do you know that?"

"My mom was a professional card reader. I inherited some of her ability to sense the paranormal, and trust me when I say Old Gotham always felt cursed." Alex pauses before tilting his head. "If you ever get to talk to Gordon, tell him I forgive him. And the key to our treasure is at our old hideout. Tell him I still love him even if he picked her."

Danny's eyes fill with water. "I promise."

"Good." There was a loud thump as a man in a trench coat raced down the hallway, aiming his glowing hands at Danny. Alex threw himself before the bright yellow beam, spreading his arms wide as he made a shield. For a second, Danny's vision overlaps with a similar image of Alex blocking a young redhead man in the same position. "Now go, Kid!"

Danny shifts into Phantom, flying at his top speed without further comment. Behind him, he hears someone with a British accent swear, and Alex's cries of pain nearly cause him to forget to turn intangible when he flies through traffic.

There had to be some way he could find a living person who understood him

_____________________________________________________

"What happened?" Bruce demands as John pushes something in a jar. Since it looks like an impressive mime trick, he's fairly sure it's actually a ghost causing problems for the Brit.

"Bloody demon had help from a human soul," The blond grunted, grabbing at the air. "Stubborn one that seemed convinced it was helping a child."

"Why?"

"Hmm?"

Bruce feels his eyebrow twitch but remains impassive overall. Right now, he's Batman, and Batman does not let emotions cloud his mind. "Why would a ghost think it was helping a child? Demons can't hide their nature from paranormals. John, are we chasing a child?"

"Normally, I would say, yeah, the thing is a child, but this one isn't your average spook. It's powerful. You saw it, right? The demon shifted forms, and I couldn't even see its second form until the two bright rings of light. If it could fool me into thinking the human flesh suit was its real form, it can easily fool a ghost."

"If it's so powerful," Tim cuts in, walking towards the pair with a floating hologram from his wrist. The integration room security camera plays on it, displaying the demon calmly sipping water. "Then why didn't it escape before? All it did for three hours before Gordon was alerted was wait."

John frowns at the camera, sealing the jar with a wax melt. "That is odd. Normally, things on that power level do everything, but be calm."

Bruce didn't like this. They had lost something powerful in his city; it had evaded detection only to waltz right into custody, where it had just as easily escaped. They had also confirmed that the demon was visiting the children previously offered to him as sacrifice.

First, there was young Jack, then Molly, who had attempted to help him with a translation app. The girl didn't seem to consider otherworldly language was untransltable. She behaved as if the demon with its harsh, raspy voice and chilling presence was not there to harm her.

In fact, when Steph interviewed her, the teenager insisted that the demon seemed lost and frightened.

Which one was the truth? His experts of the supernatural or the signs that the possible demon was dropping. That it was just a lost child terrified out of his mind?

Bruce had too many questions and not nearly enough to get any kind of answers. They needed to capture the boy again.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #the summoned demon #holiday requests #Part 4 #Bruce is starting to have doubts #Danny is actaully becoming scared #The Gotham Police are never on your side unless their gay #Gordon dead secert lover is still around #Danny guns it from the cops

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akirasarchives · 29 days ago

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[00] Valuable Addition.

Summary: You wouldn’t say you’re in debt, but the dwindling money in your bank account is looking that way. Oh yeah, and a man in a suit won’t stop bothering you about playing a stupid child’s game.

— warnings: usual squid game behaviour, female reader

platonic squid game x reader, side romantic moments but it’s for the plot

[ 12TH, MONDAY, 08:47 ]

The subway station is busy. Businessmen, students and elderly passer-bys push past and shove into you as you stand clueless next to one of the big subway posters. Despite living in Seoul for so long, you barely know your way around and you’re at mercy to the beehive system. And it takes no prisoners.

You’ve been trying for the last 10 minutes to get the attention of anyone, but each person either ignores you or runs on to grab their train, but with each train passing your anxiety grows. It feels as if time has stopped around you as the vibrant chatter of people around you turns into mumbles and whispers as you attempt to understand the subway line. Even as you trace what you think is the blue line, it eventually turns into purple and now you’re on the other side of town!

With a heavy sigh, you turn to face the crowd once more. The crowd had thinned out in the last 10 minutes of your lone confusion and with a quick glance at your phone you see that it’s quickly approaching 9am.

It’s now or never.

“Excuse me, sir!” You tap the shoulder of the nearest well-dressed businessman. The man, seemingly in his 30s or early 40s turns and flashes you a charming smile. He dons a freshly pressed, steel grey suit made of soft, rich fabric. From a quick glance, you can tell the suit is made of expensive material as you spot tiny workings of the logo within the fabric itself. You feel as if you're staining the suit by touching it.

I just had to ask the good-looking one.

“May I help you?” He asks, using his free hand to smooth down his already wrinkle-free suit. His smile drops over time, yet he makes an effort to make it appear that it meets his eyes. Though, working in hospitality makes it easy to spot a false smile.

“I am sorry to bother you, but can you tell me which train takes me to Hannam-Dong?” You glance down at your phone. Foolishly, you forgot to check which train took you in the direction of the job interview you had scheduled today for a big company which would pretty much pay off the majority of your tuition fees in one wage. You practically burst into tears when the conductor told you that you purchased a ticket for the wrong line. The image of the money decreasing from your bank account due to a stupid purchase made you want to scream.

“Are there no ticket inspectors?” He hums, looking around. He looks around and almost comically turns in a circle before sighing. As if you couldn’t feel stupid enough for thinking you had to use a different line, the man in front of you had to make a theatrical out of it.

“I think it is this line.” He motions at the platform on the other side with the hand holding his expensive looking briefcase. You watch as it swings, seemingly empty.

“Thank you, sir!” You bow your head and smile, taking off before you finish the sentence. Soon enough you’re lost in the crowd again and hopefully not too late for the train.

[ 13TH, TUESDAY, 08:29 ]

Stupid nepotism. Yesterday, you arrived at the interview 10 minutes early despite the subway fiasco but you were informed that the role was filled that morning by an “experienced candidate who met the needs of the role”. Do you want to know who the candidate is? The CEOs nephew who just left high school and took a business class.

Now what? You’re at the same subway station waiting on the train to take you to your part-time cafe job 10 minutes away. Usually, you would walk it seeing as you don’t really like throwing away ₩1500 on a ticket that takes you 6 stops away but the torrential rain outside and your cheap umbrella were blocking you from walking 15 minutes.

The ticket crumbles in your hand as you fiddle with the flimsy paper. Maybe this was God’s sick way of telling you that you’re too ahead of yourself or that you’re destined to continue spending money that you don’t have. You trace over the price stamp, thinking over what you could’ve spent the money on.

Maybe a shitty cup of ramen?

“May I sit here?” A smooth voice breaks you from your trance. You glance up, straightening your posture. It’s the man from yesterday, gleaming down at you with the same formal smile. Again, it doesn’t reach his eyes yet you nod, shuffling to the right to allow him space on the bench.

“How was your interview?” He asks casually as he sets his briefcase beside him. He turns his back to you as he traces the cool metal edges of the case, popping it open with ease.

You gape, “How did you know I was going to an interview?”

“Well, you were dressed well and now you are in an apron. I assume you don’t go everywhere in a formal blazer.” He cracks open the briefcase as he casually explains. He’s weirdly observant, but his comment on the apron makes you glance down. Each wrinkle and subtle stain becomes more noticeable, but reminds you of each gruelling hour you put into the place. Each penny earned.

You can’t help but get lost in thought, barely processing as thick blue and red folded paper is passed into your eye-line.

“I am assuming you’re a café worker… That can’t pay much, no?” He motions at the cafe’s coffee bean logo on your black shirt. You nod, still dumbfounded by the paper squares.

His stare is so intense it leaves you a bit flustered so you naturally let out a nervous laugh, swapping your attention to the time on your phone. 10 minutes until your train...

“Um, no, I suppose not.” You reply, albeit awkwardly. He hums, satisfied with your late and short answer. Oddly, this is not one of the weirder conversations you’ve had at the subway station.

He shifts so that he’s facing you, “Let’s play a game, you know Ddakji, right?”

You glance between the paper and his face. He looks so sincere, but you can’t read his eyes. They’re deep, black almost and oddly… mischevious for a middle aged man. Honestly it’s quite disturbing.

“Each round you win, you’ll get ₩100,000. How about that?” The expression on your face coaxed him to continue. Perhaps you looked just as perplexed as you feel.

“Who are—“

“If I win, you pay with your body.”

… Is this man fucking crazy? You want to just leave the station but at the same time you’re so intrigued by what the fuck this man wants. Surely he has better things to do? Was he carrying the ddakji with him yesterday too?

The way he sits still as if he’s a mannequin is also quite disturbing. It’s as if he’s giving you time to process the question but you’re not debating the game, you’re debating just running out in the pouring rain.

“Well?”

“Railway line through Cheongpa-Dong is now boarding. Please board.”

You stand quickly, jolting the businessman with your speed.

“My train is here. Bye.”

[ 13TH, TUESDAY, 22:09 ]

The whole day the scenario played through your head. You were so caught up in thought that you burned yourself with the steamer and spent 10 minutes in the office running your hand until cool water. Even then, your mind wandered back.

It’s just so odd. You’ve never seen him before but now twice you’ve spoken to him. Has he always been there and it’s just more obvious now? Does he offer everyone this game? Is he following you? Does he know where you work?

You barely knew the time. Each drink passed by in seconds and each customer morphed into each other. Every time a man entered the shop in a suit, your heart pumped ferociously.

You can’t tell if you’re terrified of him or excited for the interaction. Maybe he’s just a fucking weirdo who walks around with ddakji in hopes of getting to slap people.

Plus, you could do with the money. Even if you win just one round, it could pay for your phone bill or electric meter.

The walk home isn’t exactly easy either. It’s dark and each corner turned, you’re expecting to see him waiting under a streetlight for you holding those red and blue squares.

“If I win, you pay with your body.”

Unbothered, he extends the squares towards you. It feels as if you’re sucked out of your body as you stare at him. Time slows and no one else is there. Did he just ask you to sleep with him? What in the world could that mean? Is this man a trafficker and he has his eyes set on you? The questions flurry through your brain in a span of mere seconds, yet you still feel the cool air pass over your skin as the train rails in beside you. Your hair falls into your eyesight as you gape at him.

“Well?” He motions towards the cards.

What in the fucking world.

[ 16TH, FRIDAY, 22:35 ]

The pile of unread emails grows in your inbox. Failure to attend lectures, the price increasing of your off campus housing, monthly payments that leave you with just under ₩145,000 to survive for a month. It’s unbearable. You’ve gotten used to the growl in your stomach and the lightheadedness that comes with the fatigue of hunger. Missing night outs with your friends, walking long distances until your feet ached and slaving away at work for nasty people while your eyes threatened to close. It’s all becoming a bit much, especially as your final year in University comes to a close.

The burn on your hand doesn’t help either. It’s right between the juncture of your thumb and index finger on your right hand and it aches when any sort of warmth meets it. You can’t afford to throw away money on soothing gels at the moment, so you bear with the pain. It’s already been a few days, so hopefully it disappears soon. You hope anyway.

Walking home in the dark used to scare you but as needs be, you’ve gotten used to it. Work looms over your head as your feet trudge through fallen leaves and debris kicked up by bikes and feet. The walk from work to home isn’t too bad, the area can be sketchy at times but you’ve learned to keep your head straight, don’t make eye contact and keep a hand on the box cutter you keep in your right side coat pocket.

Luckily, you’ve come across most of the same people. An older man always passes by, seemingly walking home from work and always flashes you a smile. A few students usually run by too and the occasional office worker. Most times however, it’s quiet.

Unlike tonight.

Faint sounds of slapping, cheering and grunting bounce off the walls of the buildings surrounding the dark streets. You can’t tell where it’s coming from, who it’s coming from or why but you prefer to keep it that way, but as you grow closer to a dimly lit side street, the noises become louder.

You sigh, hand grasping the box cutter. Your thumb presses onto the button, holding it steady in case you need to use it.

Keep your head straight, [y/n]. This doesn’t involve you.

You can’t help but flicker your eyes to your left as you walk past. A man lies cowering on the ground as he grasps his face with his hands. He’s whimpering, blabbing something to the taller, well-dressed man that hovers above him.

Is that the man from the subway station?

You quicken your pace. Your feet fall over each other as you attempt to walk away as naturally as possible, but you accidentally kick up some rocks as you scatter past. The suited man turns, casting his eyes on you. The pit in your stomach grows as you continue walking with urgency, daring not to look anyway but forward.

I am so fucked!

[ 22ND, THURSDAY, 12:09 ]

“Long-time, no see.” A shadow casts over your figure, effectively blocking your view of your phone screen. You glance up at the man that is effectively disturbing one of the only peaceful moments you’ve had lately.

He’s dressed in a black variant of the steel grey suit you saw the past couple times of meeting him, but he still carried the same stupid suitcase. You sigh, swiping your music app closed and locking your phone with a click as you use a hand to cover your eyes.

Always with the same fake smile.

“I don’t want to play your game, sir.” You try to reject as kindly as possible, but you’re kind of freaked out that he found you once more. He looks slightly disheveled, as if he’s been toying with his hair or the heat today had worn him down. Weirdly, he looks more human, though little emotion lingers behind his eyes.

“That’s unfortunate. I brought it with me.” He lifts his suitcase higher into view. You frown, glancing around at other patrons. You take the time to unplug your earphones from your ears as he seems to ground his feet into the pavement before you.

He’s hard to get rid of.

“You bring it everywhere with you.” You reply, a bit more harsh than you’d want to but he seems amused by it. Suddenly, the image of him hovering over the cowering man flashes in your head.

Don’t piss him off.

You grasp your iced coffee, ignoring how the condensation soaks your hand. The subtle clinking of the ice works to calm you down as your heart begins to race at the thought of being in the position of the cowering man.

“How did you—“

“Bread or lottery?”

You blink.

“What?”

He shakes his hands, “Bread or lottery?”

“I don’t want to choose.” He seems to hold back something as he sighs.

“No matter what you choose, nothing will happen.” He assures you.

He is determined.

“I won’t have to ‘pay with my body’?” You reiterate what he said at the station. He cocks a brow, but nods nonetheless. It’s odd, it’s the most emotion he’s ever shown and it’s because you threw his words back at him.

You don’t quite fancy the idea of taking food off of him, despite its packaging being intact, so you motion for the lottery ticket silently. He hands you it quickly, fetching a spare penny from his blazer pocket. His hand lingers on your own as he passes you the coin, causing you to stare at him. His lips curl at the corners and you feel as if you just fell into a trap.

“Go ahead.” He almost sings, shuffling to stand over you.

The weight of the coin in your hand is replaced by a ton of bricks. Since when do scratch cards look so intimidating?

The lapels of the salesman’s blazer graze against your back as he stares at the blue sheet with you. You’re effectively caged against the bench that you're sitting at as he extends over your left shoulder and rests against the table.

A shaky exhale passes your lips as you stare at the sheet. The coin shakes in your hold as you begin to scratch, revealing a seven.

“Just three sevens, easy, right?” He chimes in, leaning closer to your face. The smell of his clean, fresh and most likely expensive fragrance wafts past your nose, reminding you just how close he is.

Each scratch feels like it’s taking a lifetime to reveal, but you eventually reach a second seven. You dare to glance to your left, marvelling at how close he is. You can see each fine detail across this enigma of a man’s face. In the short few seconds, you notice his asymmetrical eyes, the whisper of facial hair around his mouth and the dark excitement lingering within his eyes.

Eventually, you scratch away the last box.

“Congratulations, Miss.” The salesman hums, as he stands back straight. The hand he used to rest against the table slips up your arm to press firmly against your shoulder.

You’re astonished. I won? Seriously?

“No way.” You whisper, staring at the sheet. ₩500,000! It’s not the largest amount offered in the lottery but it’s a damn good amount for you. You can pay off a bit more of your loans and maybe afford a half-decent meal tonight.

You barely take notice as the suited man lifts his briefcase once more, and turns to look back at the park. The homeless people he once targeted are still filing through the bread he stomped on and destroyed, bar the one he left over for you. He grasps it in his hands, mulling over his options.

“Excuse me!” He yells out, tossing the bread in the air and catching it. The small crowd of people scattered around the pile of bread and some passer-by’s stop.

You gape, staring at his back.

“You can thank this young lady here for the bread!” He tosses the bread into the pile of people with a sharp throw. You watch as the homeless crowd revenge against each other, shouting and yelling their demands for the food.

You stand from the table, slipping the winning sheet in your handbag and grasping your mostly melted coffee.

I should cash in and go home.

“Hey, did she win?” A gruff voice yells out. You freeze, staring at the businessman. Anyone with any sort of wit would say no, right?

“Of course.” He smiles, standing to the side so the crowd peeps a better view at you.

He’s just fed you to a pack of very hungry wolves.

You want to say something, but the sight of about 10 people suddenly rushing towards you causes the words to die in your throat. You clutch your bag strap and almost drop your coffee as you scramble over the bench you were sitting on.

However, a barrier is formed before you. The crowd stops, staring at the swinging briefcase that blocks their path to you.

“Hey! We deserve that money!”

“You deserve nothing.” The salesman spits back. The disheveled man looks astonished, glancing between you and your new bodyguard.

“You got your card and she got hers. Play fair, weren’t you taught that in school?”

The homeless man is visibly rattled, mumbling and spewing out insults.

“I am not the one who made that decision. You are the one who threw it away!” He shouts. Suddenly, he steps forward and swings his case out, causing the crowd to fall back. Some fall over themselves and create a domino for the ones at the front.

As he revels in the chaos he creates, he misses how you slip away into the crowd.

[ 25TH, SUNDAY, 10:57 ]

“Miss, I understand you are a student but I am also a landlord, I can only wait so long without payment.” Your landlady frowns as she stands outside your door. You scramble around, picking up the last remaining notes you earned from the lottery ticket.

“I am sorry, Mrs. Kwon! Please, take this ₩300,000 I have. I promise I will get you the rest on Friday! I get paid then!” You plead, passing the money into the woman’s hands. She’s quite frazzled, pulling back her hands as you grab them to slot the notes into. Usually, the money would come out of your bank account but you locked your card as you can’t afford for her to take the last of your money.

She splutters, backing up as the money falls to her feet. You scramble to pick up the notes.

“Miss, your rent is ₩900,000 a month. You missed out a part of last month too! Where did you get this money from?” She quizzes, watching as you recount your notes. She wasn’t wrong, you were short about ₩250,000 last month and you were damn lucky she let you off on it.

“I understand, please take this to cover some of the money I missed out on.” She takes the money, sighing as she flicks the notes between her fingers and passes you back ₩150,000. You try to refuse but she uses your previous tactic on yourself.

“Take this. Listen, my granddaughter is in a place like you so I understand, but you cannot keep living like this. What happened to your last job interview? You told me you would never be short on money again!”

Your gaze drops to the floor at this point. Again, you’re forced to remember how the opportunity was practically ripped from your hands before you had a chance to even try.

“He gave it to his nephew.” You reply.

Mrs. Kwon sighs, glancing at the other tenants' doors. None of the neighbours ever cause her as much trouble as you do, yet she finds it hard to evict you. Even now, you look like her granddaughter, defeated and at the mercy of the world.

“Just pay me what you can on Friday. I will give you until your graduation to sort this out, okay?” You nod, thanking her profusely.

Maybe I should play that game of ddakji…

[ 1ST, SATURDAY, 14:26 ]

“Are you crazy? Some man keeps asking you to play ddakji and you’re going to say yes?” Your coworker pales as he finishes mixing up some drinks. You nod, glancing back out at the glass doors. The café is quiet today despite the few regulars, so you find yourself able to fall into conversation with him quite easily.

“Ddakji?” Your other coworker, Junhee, pops her head out from the kitchen. You nod, expecting the same reaction from her but it never comes.

“I’m good at that. Try to hit it with the folded part down.” She smiles, popping back in.

“Hey! Why would you tell her to do that?” Yunho scolds, passing the drinks to the collection station. You can’t help but laugh as you round the corner to pass the cups to the customers. They are used to the usual bickering behind the counter so they pay no mind as the two talk back and forth. Most of your customers are students anyway, so they don’t care much as long as the drinks and food taste nice.

The fight continues into the night, even as Yunho is locking up and watching the shutters fall.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride home?” He offers, but both you and Junhee decline. Yunho is nice, almost a bit too nice so you don’t want to feel like you’re taking advantage of him.

“Me and [y/n] will walk home together. Thank you, though.” Junhee answers. Truthfully, she doesn’t live far from you but she is closer to the café than you are. You know she’s struggling a bit with rent too and you’ve both discussed the possibility of moving in together, but she is having trouble with her boyfriend so you don’t want to pry and become the main reason she leaves him. She hasn’t told you much but it is financial and she fears she may be pregnant.

As you fall into pace together, Junhee begins to wring her hands nervously. You know she’s holding out on telling you something as it’s the same thing she did before she told you what Myunggi did.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, glancing at her shorter fame. Despite her hair hanging over her eyes, you can see the worry spread across her face,

“Listen, [y/n], I played ddakji with the same man.” Junhee stops in her path. You pause. He had played with her?

“The businessman?” You ask, to which she eagerly nods.

You step closer, looking around nervously. “Did you pay with your body?”

“Yes. He slapped me.”

“He what?”

Junhee throws her head back, “I won every time, but the last round I missed. He slaps you if you fail to flip the ddakji!”

As concerned as you should be, it feels as if a lightbulb blinks above your head.

“So what you’re saying is that I just have to be good at ddakji?”

“What I’m saying is to be careful! He gave me this card too…” She fumbles in her bag, pulling out a cream card with a circle, square and triangle printed onto it. She flips it, displaying an address.

“He said to go there in 3 days. He didn’t really explain it much but he said there were still some spots open.”

[ 3RD, MONDAY, 23:07 ]

“I can’t believe my eyes.” He muses, “I almost think you’ve been looking for me.”

“And what if I was?” Defiantly, you meet his dark gaze. As long as Junhee was telling the truth and he was only going to slap you, it would be easy. It’s not like he’s going to knock your tooth out.

Hopefully.

“Give me the blue one.” You hold your right hand out, requesting the brightly coloured square. He fumbles with his suitcase as he attempts to not look as excited as he is.

He sets the red square face down onto the pavement. Yes, pavement. You caught the fucker as he was stalking down the back alleys near your house as he was probably on his way to find another player.

“You know, you’re one of the first to ask me to play.” He hums, watching as you steady your two feet. Truthfully, you never played ddakji but the guise of the game was nothing too hard to grasp. Plus, you practised a little in your house.

“Try to hit with the folded part down.”

Junhee’s word echo throughout your head as you fling the card down with a bit of force. As told, the red square flips round.

“You’re good. Here you go.” The businessman passes you ₩100,000., the first of the night.

[ 3RD, MONDAY, 23:18 ]

“Alright, last round. You have almost emptied me out.” He motions to his discarded case. The last ₩100,000 sits pretty, almost beaconing you to take it straight from its place. But, you must play fair right? Even the businessman thinks so as you remember back at the park when he fed you to the crowd and saved you at the same time.

“I’m starting to think you’re a lucky charm for me.” You laugh, taking the blue square from his hand. Since he showed up, you’ve started to notice a stronger cash flow and hopefully the card he’s bound to give you continues the lucky streak.

But, instead of laughing or seeming amused, he flashes you a sinister smirk. You stare as he fixes himself. He had long abandoned his blazer, instead opting to roll his sleeves up and really give the game his all seeing as you had won 5 rounds. You have to admit, his disheveled state wasn’t the worst sight to look at.

“I think I’m quite the opposite.” He replies, hands smoothing down his waistcoat. You try to shake off his reply as he’s most likely trying to throw you off your game.

Maybe I shouldn’t be playing ddakji in a dark alleyway with him. Alone. At 11pm.

Tearing your gaze away, you return to the form that has won you five rounds. Steady feet, steady arms and steady breathing aided you in your last rounds and it’s almost as if it’s become second nature to you.

The square leaves your hands in a flash and you don’t bother to look as you stand proudly. A large thwack jumps off of the brick walls surrounding you both as you stare at him with nothing but pride on your face.

But…

Why is he coming at me?

Within a flash, the man’s left arm swings into your peripheral and you squawk as you jump back, throwing your arms out to push him away. Your eyes clench closed as your heartbeat thumps so loudly, it sounds as if there’s drums in your ears.

“You dodged me. That’s not fair.” You stare incredulously. The speed at which he swung at you would’ve landed you on your ass in a second flat. Junhee never told you that. With a dumbfounded expression, you look to the ground.

I missed.

“You tried to punch me. What the fuck?” You scatter, grasping your bag from the ground. You don’t need that damn card, what the fuck was Junhee on about? Is she crazy? Why is she going to that place tomorrow?

“I told you. If you lose, you pay with your body.” He explains casually, as if he didn’t just try to send you to the e.r. “Plus, I was going to slap you.”

“You would’ve knocked my fucking tooth out!”

“It was your choice to play, now stand still for me.”

You step back as he steps forward. Like Hell you’re letting him lay his hands on you.

“I don’t like people who don’t play fair. Please don’t make me hate you after we had so much fun.” He stresses, caging you against the brick wall. Your eyes flicker around, attempting to find a way to slip out. But, he’s read your mind, kicking a nearby bin over on its side.

“I never agreed to you hurting me.” You retaliate, flinching as he brings his right hand to your left cheek. Your eyes clench once again, but the delicate touch of his hand makes you gasp.

What is he doing? Is he seriously caressing my cheek?

The dim light from the nearby street lamps cast a soft light across his features, softening his appearance. If you weren’t so goddamn scared for your life and it was a man 20 years younger, maybe you wouldn’t mind this.

This is a textbook murder. What the fuck have I done?

He sighs, his fingerprints tracing a light pattern across your cheek. Each touch tingles, reminding you of where he’s touched. It’s similar to how your ex boyfriends would hold and touch you. It’s wrong, so wrong.

How can I think of Haejo right now!?

But, that’s until he gets rougher. Soon, he’s manhandling your face, using his thumb and fingers to hold your face in place by your chin. You spew complaints, twisting your body and using your hands to attempt to push him away.

“Didn’t anyone tell you to not talk to strange men on the street?” He sneers, disliking how you’re gradually dislodging yourself from his grasp. You ignore him, focusing on punching, shoving and kicking. You’re so distracted you don’t notice how his hand drops from your chin until it hits you.

He hits you.

You’re yelping, falling and scraping against the brick wall as tears cloud your vision. You’re crumbling, falling into yourself as you cry fat tears. Your ears are ringing and your face feels hot to the touch.

I’m reporting this fucker to the police.

“Fuck you!” You shout, looking up at his figure. Suddenly, you are the man you saw a few weeks ago. He stands unwavering, almost enjoying your crouched form. You can barely see between your tears and clumped lashes and you’re almost one hundred percent sure your mascara has streaked across your eyes, but you don’t care. You’re so fucking angry and scared, you’re shaking as you look at him.

“You agreed to play.” He’s right, but so obnoxious about it. He crouches to meet your form, staring at you as if you’re nothing but a scrawny child or animal. You might as well be.

Suddenly, he flicks a card between his index and middle finger, dropping it into your lap. It clatters and lands on the dirty ground, but you recognise the shapes Junhee told you about.

“Go to the address tomorrow. You’ll be the most valuable addition yet.”

With that, he leaves.

masterlist

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game series #squid game fluff #squid game smut #gong yoo x reader #dae ho x reader #kang dae ho x reader

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safination · 4 months ago

Text

You, Me, and These Idiots

|Masterlist|

Pairings: Alastor x Wife!Reader Warnings: None TLDR: It’s cold, and Alastor has blankets to spare. My entry for @voxtekinc Week 1: I’m surrounded by Idiots. This took me like 45 minutes to write. Don't expect much GAHAHA. I'm trying my best <3

Alastor snaps his fingers. A blanker appears out of the air, landing on his arm. It’s just a blanket, a plain and simple blanket. Yet he knows that this thinner piece of fabric would be useless against the cool blow of that newly installed air-conditioning unit. Still, a blanket is a blanket.

You watch him, legs splayed out and snuggled up on the couch. “That looks fun.”

A quick roll of his eyes, and you throw a pillow at him.

“Yes yes,” he says, taking a step to the side. The blanket unfurls, and Alastor places it around Vaggie’s sleeping body. “All fun and games, indeed, yet when one of them gets sick because of the cold, and passes it around, it will be my job to accommodate their health.”

It’s how he says, ‘them’. It’s as if you won’t get sick either. Or was it that he would make sure you wouldn’t get sick?

“How thoughtful.”

Alastor laughs, his eyes bulging out in different directions. Still, it’s quite a hushed laughter. “I am quite the thoughtful creature,” he tells you. “I don’t see why anyone would say otherwise.”

The next few minutes go a little bit like this:

Charlie’s legs stick out, and press on Vaggie’s body in a way that looks like it would hurt. Alastor tucks in Charlie’s legs closer to herself, curling her closer to Vaggie. He pulls on the blanket around her, and wraps it around Charlie as well. It’s cute to see them snuggled up with their limbs bundled up together.

Niffty gets her own blanket. There’s a distinct thickness that the pervious one doesn’t possess. You know better than to mention it.

Lucifer doesn’t get a blanket.

Another snap of his fingers, and Husk and Angel Dust get their own blankets. Alastor doesn’t bother wrapping them. It appears into the air, and float down to their bodies. Their legs stick out, and half of it is already falling off. So, with a sigh, you tuck in the boys yourself.

Alastor summons another blanket.

A pause.

And then another pause.

He looks around, and his eyes glaze over the sleeping figures, mentally counting each one. It’s in the way his eyebrows twitch a bit. It’s how you know something in his mind isn’t adding up. His eyes land of Sir Pentious’ painting, and you see the way he instantly understands.

Still, it would be a waste of a perfectly (albeit, thinning) blanket. So, you take it from him, pressing a kiss on the edge of his lips, and drop it on top of Lucifer.

It’s just you without a blanket now. You sit back on the couch, eager to see what he would do.

Alastor takes his seat next to you, and pulls a blanket around your shoulders.

With a laugh, you grab the other end, and place it around his shoulder, pulling Alastor closer to you. Only now, does the room get warmer. Out of all the blankets Alastor snapped into thin air, this one is the thickets. It’s soft with a light fur texturing it.

Alastor glances around the hotel living-room, leaning his head on top of yours. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“I think,” you begin, bopping his nose, “that you’re forgetting that I am here, currently next to you.”

“And how is that any better?”

“If there are going to be idiots, at least we’re going to be surrounded.” You grab his hand, playing with the tips of his fingers before intertwining them. “Even among idiots, where there will be a you, there will also be me.”

Alastor crashes his weight into you, pressing his body closer with a laugh.

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife!reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x you #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor x wife reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor imagines #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines

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bunny-jpeg · 6 months ago

Note

Hiiiiii can I please order French toast with vodka and martini with maxxxxxxxx

Thank you I am living for your writing!!!!!

bakery menu

want to order? look at the menu! we're always serving up smiles at the bunny bakery! we have a full-time staff (me) who makes sure your desserts are made with love and the drinks are poured to perfection!

french toast ("you're trying to make me jealous!") + vodka (rough sex) + martini (mafia au) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, mafia boss!max, references to violence, mean dom!max, smoking, non penetrative sex, sex toys & bondage

max knew how to throw a punch, it was one of the first things he felt like he learned in life. now, as the boss, he didn't punch as much as he thought he would've as a child. but when that lackey threw his arm around your shoulders and crowded your space. max wanted that guy's teeth stuck in his frontal lobe.

and you were just playing right into it. laughing at his jokes as he got closer, but you put your hand on his chest and gave a smile. you said something to him that max couldn't pick up due to the music in the club.

not that what you were saying even mattered, max wanted him dead. if he kissed you, max couldn't be responsible for what he would do. he briefly wondered how many teeth he could break with a single punch. he hissed through a tense jaw before he finished his gin and tonic and headed towards you.

the lackey, max couldn't even remember his name, looked up at max and smiled, "hey, boss." and gave the man a wave.

you looked away briefly as you sipped your vodka and cranberry.

max crossed his arms, he got the message loud and clear. the new guy didn't know who you were. or rather your relation to the family. he noticed that the engagement ring you wore was off your finger. oh, you were trying to cause a seen.

you little slut.

he looked at you and tilted his head, "i didn't know you were so comfortable with all ranks of the family, mrs. verstappen."

the lackey's eyes went wide as it all clicked together. he quickly pulled away from you and looked beyond shocked. he looked like he was going to piss himself. he stammered out, "i'm so sorry, boss. mister verstappen, boss, sir!"

max sighed and put his hands into the pockets of his slacks. the sleeves of his crisp button-up were rolled up, showing the strength of his arms. he said, "it's fine. i'll let this go, this time. as for you." he turned his attention to you. he snapped his fingers and pointed behind himself and the lackey was on his feet and out of sight.

you carefully took a sip of your drink, "what?" a defiant little thing. that was what max liked about you. he didn't want a submissive puppy for a fiancee. but it was however a double-edged sword.

he took the glass out of your hand and put it down on the glass table. he grabbed you by the wrist and showed you your hand, the absence of a ring was glaringly obvious.

"i didn't want to get it dirty."

"you're trying to make me jealous, mijn kleine slet." he said as he pulled you to your feet, "you can't be playing these games when we get married, acting out like a brat." his voice was tense and made your entire body feel flushed, "now let's get in the car and talk this out, like a couple."

max was once told that cigarettes tasted better if they were lit with a match instead of a lighter. the word "fresh" for a flame was thrown around, regardless max had to agree, cigarettes tasted better when lit with a match.

he was in his office chair, in the home you shared. he was leaned back in it with the unlit cigarette in his mouth. he took the box of matches off the solid wood desk and struck a light. he lit the cigarette before he shook the match dead. it and the box were put back on the table before he turned back to the exquisite, whorish woman he called a fiancee.

he leaned forward in his seat. took you a good while to get you tied up like that. the kind they had to use for the hogs. legs up and arms behind back. right in the center of your back was max's expensive crystal ashtray.

"break it." he said, "i'll throw you to the dogs." but you were barely listening and he knew it. after all when he got you onto the carpeted floor and bound, he slipped an impressive vibrator into your aching cunt. it was controlled by a remote which max had in his pants pocket. he took another inhale of the cigarette and looked at you.

those blue eyes were painfully pointed. he was predator that could see all, and you were the prey he got into a lovely trap. in all fairness, he was impressed that you could make him lose his cool like that.

he believed he had been conditioned so much that he wouldn't break a sweat when emotions for rocky. but you were under his skin like a splinter that he couldn't get out.

he didn't expect less from his future wife.

"you know what you did makes you a whore right? like the kind that walks around the red light district. you know, if you like the attention so much, i could get you a nice window right in the center of the area. make a hefty price." he nudged your shoulder with the front of his sleek shoes, "mafia boss' fiancee's fall from grace."

you kept your gaze on him, not like you could say anything. currently his tie was bound around your mouth. you weren't meant to talk, you were meant to stay there and listen.

with the cigarette in his mouth he said, "i would rather not have that. a boss' wife is supposed to have... grace, she isn't supposed to be letting underlings practically grope her." he exhaled, leaning forward to get it almost in your face, "would you consider yourself graceful, schat?"

you nodded your head. you felt the electricity in your body. you tensed up when he put his hand in his pocket and lowered the vibration setting. only to raise it again soon after. that was the trick with remote controlled toys, to keep the pace uneven and make whoever wearing it beg for more.

but you wouldn't be doing much begging tonight.

he nudged you against with his shoe and said, "don't lie to me." before he took another drag. the sight of him, a little warm and slightly disheveled. the cigarette hung loosely in his fingers. he was a dangerous man, he could easily have you killed.

but he'd never do that, he'd rather skin himself alive than have his beloved be dead. even if you were a brat, he still was going to make the oath to be with you for the rest of your days.

the pleasure from the toy was becoming overwhelming, you could almost feel the vibrations in the back of your head. you laid there tied up, and when max was done the cigarette, he leaned over and put it out in the ashtray you were keeping balanced on you.

he leaned back in his chair and looked at you. he said, "you look better like this. maybe next time i should give you a collar since you like to act like a bitch in heat." he propped his head against his fist as he leaned against the arm of the office chair.

you were a quivering mess, his harsh words shot to your core. he played with the controls once more and you were gasping around the tie in your mouth. the expensive material was getting ruined by your spit as you squirmed.

max thought he was being generous when he took the ashtray off your back and onto the desk. he knew you were going to come apart at the scenes at any moment.

he didn't want you to break something that cost more than your entire university tuition. he could see the tremble in your body, you were such a glutton for punishment.

you tried to speak around the tie in your mouth, but felt a curl in pressure in your gut. you had nothing to hold onto while the toy buzzed in your aching cunt. your toes curled as he watched you with careful eyes.

he was a bad man. there was a glint in his blue eyes as he watched you struggle. he wasn't even fucking you, but yet he had you on your knees. he had you whimpering with cloth in your mouth.

"pretty thing." he said softly, "see, i like you like this. not making me jealous." he reached over and patted your head softly. in such a juxtaposition to the pace of the toy.

he knew he wasn't exactly lying, he didn't want a submissive wife all the time nor, did he want a wife who was trying to make him jealous all the time.

you let out a whine as you arched your back and climaxed around the toy. your body tensed up, and a slight ache was in your muscles. you felt your heart pound in your chest as you came.

you went lax and pulled at the ropes that bound you. you pressed your forehead against the carpeted floor as you tried to settle down. you gasped when the vibrator was turned off. your breathing was in heavy pants as you relaxed.

max tapped the apple of your cheek when you looked at him once more. he said, "so perfect for me."

you tensed up when the knife came out from the desk drawer. max crouched next to you and got the knife through your binds. he also too his tie out of your mouth. he bundled you up in his arms on the carpeted floor of his office.

the weight of the toy inside of you made your stomach twist and when he slowly pulled it out of you. you thought you were going to cum again, especially when his thumb grazed up against your clit. he held you in his arms on the floor.

"are we done with these little games?" he asked.

you remained curled in his arms and let him rubbed your forehead gently, you said, "for now."

he chuckled, "of course, but be careful, schat. you may be my wife, but you are still human. with blood and all, and there would be many who would like to see that blood spilled."

you looked up at him and he kissed you on the lips. when he pulled away you smiled. you could feel your fiance's cock against your lower back. these silly little games you played, but max wouldn't have it any other way.

his beautiful future wife. <3

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