#Neon phone cover

[varietyvault]

"Geometric Neon Cube Phone Case – Futuristic & Sleek Design" ( iPhone + Google Pixel + Samsung )

This design combines a futuristic neon aesthetic with bold geometric patterns, highlighted by a glowing 3D cube centerpiece. The gradient shades of pink, blue, and purple create a dynamic and vibrant appearance, perfect for tech enthusiasts and those seeking a standout phone case. The sleek, modern design appeals to individuals who value both functionality and cutting-edge art in their accessories.

[angel-blood-art]

i thought today was neon white's 2nd anniversary.

it wasn't, it was 6 days ago 🥹 either way happy very late 2nd anniversary neon white

[tamaharu]

stopped at the store after work to get knitting needles and some girl stopped me to ask what the price of an item was. do i smell like employee or something..?

[jxwl4k]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ passenger princess .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. fluff

☘︎ . . . pairings. grumpy!bakugou x sunshine!reader

⤿ no one messes with your side of the car.

Bakugou had just gotten used to your ridiculous decorations on your side of the car. It had taken months of grumbling, eye-rolling, and threats of yanking it all out, but eventually, he stopped trying to “fix” it.

Well, sort of.

“Why do you even need this many pillows in here? You’re not sleeping in my car!” he barked one day after you brought yet another fluffy heart-shaped pillow to add to your collection.

“But Katsuki!” you protested, clutching the pillow dramatically. “What if I want to nap? I’m the passenger; it’s in my job description.”

Bakugou just muttered something about “dumb extras” under his breath as you smugly tucked the pillow onto your side.

Your side of the car was, to put it lightly, a burst of color and chaos compared to his pristine, no-nonsense half. There was a fluffy pink seat cover, a mini trash can disguised as a cupcake, and an obnoxiously glittery charm hanging from the glove box handle. The latest addition was a LED sign on the dashboard that flashed “Passenger Princess” in neon pink.

And despite all his complaints, Bakugou never actually touched any of it. Secretly, he liked that there was a part of his car that was so you. Even when you weren’t there, the sight of the little decorations made him roll his eyes in that fond way he’d never admit to out loud.

One evening, Kirishima hopped into the passenger seat while Bakugou waited outside their shared agency. “Dude, you have cupcake-scented air fresheners in here?” Kirishima snorted, grabbing one of the dangling charms.

“Don’t touch her stuff,” Bakugou snapped, swiping the charm from Kirishima’s hand like it was a priceless artifact.

“Whoa, someone’s protective,” Kirishima teased, leaning back in the fluffy seat and immediately adjusting it.

The car door slammed shut, and Bakugou glared at him like he’d committed a crime. “The hell are you doing to her seat?! She’ll kill you.”

Kirishima blinked, confused. “It’s just a seat, man. She won’t notice.”

Bakugou scoffed. “She always notices.”

When Bakugou pulled into your driveway later that evening, you were already waiting by the door. You bounded over, beaming as always, but your smile faltered the second you climbed into the passenger seat.

Your eyes scanned the seat and dashboard like a detective solving a crime. “Did someone… sit in my seat?”

Bakugou tensed. “Tch, no. Why the hell would anyone sit there?”

“You’re lying,” you accused, narrowing your eyes. You leaned forward, inspecting the dashboard. “Where’s my angel charm?!”

“Don’t look at me!” Bakugou barked, pointing a finger toward the back seat. “He touched it!”

Kirishima, who had been silently enjoying his phone in the back, looked up in alarm. “Wait, what?!”

“Give me my angel back!” you demanded, spinning around to face him.

Kirishima sheepishly dug the charm out of his pocket and handed it over. “Sorry! I didn’t think it was that serious.”

“It’s not just a charm!” you huffed, dramatically holding it to your chest. “It’s part of the vibe.”

“Yeah, her vibe,” Bakugou muttered, glaring at Kirishima. “So stop touching her shit!”

Later, when you finally settled into your seat with everything back in place, Bakugou glanced over at you. You had a triumphant little smirk as you adjusted the seat back to your liking, humming happily under your breath.

“You’re such a pain,” he grumbled, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“And yet, you keep letting me redecorate,” you teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for protecting my stuff, Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s ears turned pink, and he rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

Kirishima’s laugh echoed from the back seat. “You’re whipped, bro.”

“Get the hell out of my car, Shitty Hair.”

[rafesangelita]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ gooning to your instagram page was a regular occurrence for stepbro!rafe, but getting caught? that’s something that didn’t happen everyday..

warnings: stepcest, reader is bit of a bimbo, male masturbation, rafe is super pervy and kinda icky in this lol, name calling, handjob, messy kissing, oral (f. receiving), praise, mutual pining (?), dirty talk, pussy slapping, overstimulation, unprotected sex, rafe is a loser so premature ejaculation, marking, cock warming, multiple orgasms, creampie

wc: 2.0k

“such a fucking slut, ‘posting shit like this.” rafe cursed under his breath, his phone in one hand and his cock in the other. jerking off to your slutty instagram account had become a part of his daily routine. he hated that you were so active on it, but then again, if it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have so many pictures and videos to keep him sane while he fantasized about fucking his bratty little stepsister. pathetically enough, rafe knew he had to keep his grimy hands off of you, and fuck, did it piss him off. to have something so close, yet so far out of his reach.

your story highlights alone was enough to hold him off for the next year, but your actual posts? he swore anyone who came across your page was in gooning heaven. he’d never admit it, but he once spent two entire hours jerking off to a video he had secretly took of you two having a ‘whoever could eat their cone the fastest’ contest, his cock raw and aching to be left alone by the time he decided to give it a rest. he was mesmerized, watching you lick and lap at the icecream, the sweet succulence dripping down your chin, and eventually your tits when you couldn’t keep it from melting.

his eyes screwed shut at the memory, the video currently playing on his phone not being any different. instead of icecream dribbling down your chin, it was whatever alcohol your best friend had just poured in your mouth, the excess liquor running down your neck and chest. you had squealed when you swallowed the burning substance, your tits bouncing as you jumped excitedly with your friends. rafe groaned at the sight. you couldn’t be that oblivious, right??? at some point you had to know what you were doing when you posted this for everyone to see?

your micro bikini top did nothing to support the weight of your tits, a nipple peeking out before you innocently tucked it back underneath the poor excuse of pink material. he clicked out of your story and immediately blew up the image of your recent post. you were on all fours, face down and ass up as your skin sparkled underneath the neon lights of the party you had went to earlier tonight. you looked like you were straight out of a playboy magazine. rafe groaned, his chest heaving as he teetered the edge of cumming all over himself.

he thought about manhandling you out of that bikini and fucking you stupid for wearing it out in the first place. he’s had to watch you whore yourself out for nearly a year already, his life becoming a living hell since the day you first moved in and introduced yourself with that stupid faux innocent look in your eyes. the mini skirts you never failed to bend down in front of him in, the tube tops that basically had your tits spilling out of them, fuck, there was so many things about you that made him horny out of his mind. “oh, shit!” rafe dropped his phone, his door opening just as his orgasm washed over him.

“what the f-fuck?!” he was trembling underneath the covers, his eyes widening as you quietly shut his door behind you. “what are you doing?” he whispered, fumbling around as his high still had his hips stuttering. you giggled, watching as his face morphed into one of full blown pleasure before he turned away from you. “i just wanted to check on you since i heard noises, that’s all..” you sat down on the edge of his bed, biting your lip as his back muscles rippled beneath his skin, your eyes moving to the phone next to him. “oh, well you couldn’t have picked a better time?” rafe scoffed.

you flipped the device over, gasping softly when you saw your instagram illuminating the screen. “hey, that’s me!” you laughed, taking his phone in your hand and holding it up to him before he lunged for the thing, taking you down with him. “rafe!” you yelped his hand coming up to clasp over your mouth. “shut the fuck up! you’re gonna get us in trouble, dummy!” he cursed, his face just centimeters away from your own. you swallowed thickly, nodding as he slowly moved his hand down. “why am i on your phone?” you asked, noticing the way his pupils blew wide at your question.

“what?” he faltered, watching as a smile formed on your lips. “oh my god—” the realization hit you when you looked down, his bulge prominent in his boxers. “were you touching yourself?” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together as he backed away, looking at you as if you had just insinuated the most offensive thing he’s ever heard. “a-are you serious? of course not—” you trailed your hand down, cupping him through the thin material, “it’s okay if you were.. i do it too.” rafe froze, inspecting your face for any kind of hint that you were joking. you weren’t.

“what the fuck are you talking about?” he said through gritted teeth. you peered up at him innocently, batting your eyelashes at him as he made no attempt to move away from you. “i touch myself and think about you, ray. all the time.” you whispered against his lips, placing a soft kiss there before letting your head fall back against his pillows. “i know it’s wrong, but i can’t help it..” this was rafe’s wet dream coming true. “whenever you walk around shirtless i just imagine riding your abs. you’re so strong, rafe, i think about you choking me with these arms.” you ran your nails up the skin of his forearm.

holy fuck.

rafe didn’t believe he could ever be this turned on in his life. “yeah?” he let himself relax, your fingers slipping underneath the waistband of his boxers as you gripped him at the base. you felt the sticky residue from his previous orgasm in your palm, a hum leaving your lips at the revelation. “did i make you cum already?” the man above you groaned. how you sounded so sweet asking the most dirtiest question was beyond him. “fuck— yes, you did,” he nodded, his mouth parting once you started stroking him, “may i pleaseee make you cum again?” rafe nodded frantically, his hips thrusting into your palm.

taking your lips in a searing kiss, rafe didn’t hold back from slipping his tongue in your mouth, the sensation making you moan as you two practically drooled over one another. he wasn’t gentle in the slightest, his teeth nipping your bottom lip when you ran your thumb over his throbbing tip. “oh, god,” he hissed, pulling away momentarily to inspect your outfit.. or lack thereof. you laid underneath him in nothing but a sheer night top, your g-string sitting perfectly between your puffy folds. “you look so fucking hot.” rafe breathed out, cupping your tits before rolling your nipples between his fingers.

you gasped, spreading your thighs so he could lay between them. “i need to taste you, please let me,” he pressed a sloppy kiss to your chin, both of your lips glossy with spit. you moaned, whimpering a ‘yes, please!’ as he snaked down your body. when he got to eye level with your soaking cunt, he teased you by slowly moving your sorry excuse of ‘panties’ aside before spreading you open. you shuddered, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited for his next move. pinning your thighs to the tops of his shoulders, rafe kissed your sensitive bud before diving in.

immediately, your back arched off of his mattress when his tongue attacked your poor clit, the back of your hand muffling your scream as your thighs clamped around his head. you were squirming, nails digging into his skin for dear life as he ate you like a man starved. “if only you knew,” rafe spoke, “i’ve been losing sleep over this pussy, ‘been wanting to do this since day fucking one.” you cried out at his words. you’ve wanted him for yourself the second he helped you with your moving boxes, that smug smirk on his face drawing you in since the very beginning.

your hips unintentionally chased his mouth, his hands pinning you down in place. “feels so good!” you whined, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could watch him. the tip of his nose was glistening with your slick, his tongue poking your entrance as lapped away at your juices. he was so good at this, you felt jealousy pooling in your tummy for any other girls who might’ve seen this sight, and felt his skilled tongue. “you taste so fucking good, this is unreal.” he marveled, sucking your clit before rolling your sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips. you gasped sharply, a scream sitting on the tip of your tongue.

rafe continued like this until you attempted to move away from him again. grabbing a pillow from your side, you smothered your face with it as he pushed you over the edge, a high like never before washing over you in waves of pure ecstasy. rafe watched you shake and thrash underneath him, his pussy drunk gaze raking down your trembling form. you moaned, sobbed, and cried until all you could do was whimper in sensitivity. “no more,” you sighed, your body jolting as rafe flicked his tongue continuously over your clit. black dots spotted your vision, your heart beating in your ears.

“..can’t take it, rafe!” you sobbed, tears welling in your eyes as he dismissed your cries. “yes, you can, you’re gonna have to..” just as you were going to ask him what he meant by that, he kept your legs on his shoulders as he stood up, slamming into you without warning. you couldn’t conceal the sound this time, your shriek bouncing off of the walls of rafe’s room. turning his head to see if the door was locked, he cursed under his breath when he saw it wasn’t. “you just want us to get caught, huh?” you shook your head, your nails digging into the flesh of his stomach.

rafe covered your mouth, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you felt him pinch your clit. “just give me one more, baby, that’s all. ‘wanna feel this pussy squeezing around me when i fill you up with my cum.” you had tears running down your cheeks now. embarrassingly enough, rafe felt his climax approaching fast, his cock still aching from cumming not even twenty minutes ago. overstimulated and hysterical, you were spasming around rafe’s length in no time, every ridge of his cock bringing you to your final orgasm of the night, rafe following suit.

he leaned down, grunting praises in your ear while he painted you white inside, your thighs shaking uncontrollably against his chest. not daring to remove his hand away from your face yet, he sucked bruises into the skin of your neck, marking you as his own. you laid limp like on his bed, taking the last few of his thrusts before he stilled completely. you were a fucked out mess to say the least. gently placing your legs down, rafe stayed nestled inside of you as he pulled you against him. unintentionally, you had started tracing shapes into his skin, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead as you two kissed.

“this just made a lot of shit complicated.” he stroked your chin, your glassy eyes flickering over his face. “not really,” you started, “we’ll just be sneaky.” rafe blinked slowly, a groan rumbling from his chest as you clenched around him. “look down, i want you to see something.” you did as he said, a small whine leaving your lips as he pulled out, his cum dribbling out of with ease. “i’m the only one who can have this pussy, you understand?” you nodded, pecking his cheek before wrapping your arms around his neck. “come on, let’s get you back to your room before world war three breaks out in this house.”

[authorhjk1]

A queen's night

(IU X Irene X Karina X Yujin X Yeji)

He could lose his job for this. But there's no turning back now. Not after getting paid in advance. And it's not like he can return the payment.

Jieun's manager takes a deep breath, before finally taking the next turn. He is leaving the route he usually takes to drive her home. His knuckles turn white, sweat starts to run down his neck. Glancing at the rear view mirror, he sees Jieun scrolling on her phone. Looks like she didn't notice anything yet.

"Please turn left."

Taken by surprise, the man in the driver's seat almost shouts. He is so on edge, so afraid of Jieun finding out, that he forgot to mute the GPS. What if she hears it and realizes he isn't driving her home?

After finally shutting it off, he focuses back on the road. Another turn. The longer he drives, the more he is afraid of getting caught. Another turn. What if he gets fired for this? Isn't this basically kidnapping? Another turn. Sweat starts to build on his forehead. Maybe he should turn around? Another turn.

After a minute or two, the screen of the GPS finally shows their destination. He slows down, looking for the right building.

"Oppa."

A cold shudder runs down his spine.

"Where are we?"

"Huh?.... Well,.... We're taking a shortcut."

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Jieun looks out the window. She's never been here before. And this doesn't really look like a shortcut. Haven't they always chosen the quickest route so far?

"Maybe you took the wrong turn?"

He decides to ignore the question.

"Oppa?"

A relived sigh leaves his body, when he finally spots the bright neon sign.

"We are here."

Jieun looks around.

"What does 'here' mean?"

The street, almost an alley, is pretty dark. Except for a couple of street lights and a neon sign, everyone and everything seems to be sleeping.

"I'm supposed to give you this."

Jieun accepts the envelope, while glancing at the rear view mirror. Her manager usually doesn't sound this scarred or afraid. It's not like she's gonna kill him, because they got lost.

She opens the envelope carefully and then takes out the card inside it.

"Third floor, second room on the left."

"What is this supposed to be?"

Her brows furrow, her question is directed at her manager.

"I don't know, Jieun. The... The CEO gave it to me this morning. He... He said to drive to this address and give you the envelope."

"This address?"

Jieun looks out of they window again.

"Yes. The Queen's Motel."

The woman in the backseat stares at the neon light. This looks more like motel for one night stands than a proper meeting place.

"Fine."

Jieun sighs and steps out of the van with a heavy heart.

"Don't worry. I'll pick you up later."

"Sure."

Jieun's manager sees her hesitate one more time, before she finally walks towards the entrance. His eyes follow her when she opens the door and steps inside. He finally groans in agony, all the tension leaving his body. Was it really worth it? Were they all worth it? We're they all worth her reputation?

He reaches into his pocket for his phone. Quickly heading to his gallery, he scrolls through the pictures he took while Jieun was on stage earlier.

He almost had a heart attack when someone suddenly opened the door to her dressing room, while he was watching her performance.

"Hello, manager-nim."

The young girl's sweet voice and smile made him stand up and bow.

"Hello, Yeji-ssi."

"I'm a big fan of IU and I was hoping you could give her this."

Yeji was holding an envelope in her hand. It was red and sealed.

"For Jieun"

"Sure. Of course I can do that."

He was surprised that Yeji came to him and not directly to Jieun.

"I'll give it to her right when she comes back."

He couldn't help but glance at Yeji's midriff. Her top was not covering much of her upper body, showing off a lot of skin. He thought he'd never get a chance with her at all. She's an idol. A celebrity. And he's significantly older than her. No way a young woman like Yeji would even look at him twice. But he had seen her dancing on stage, right before it was Jieun's turn. He still remembered the way her hips swayed to the music.

"Could you maybe wait for a while, until you give it to her?"

"S...Sure. I'll give it to her, when she's at home."

To his surprise, Yeji shook her head.

"Would it be possible for you to drive her to this address tonight?"

She took a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him as well. After glancing at the address, he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Yeji-ssi. I can't just drop her off somewhere in the city."

"Manager-nim..."

His eyes grew wide when Yeji pouted at him, her voice dripping with sweetness.

"This is really important to me. Can't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, Yeji-ssi. But I can't just drop off a celebrity at a random address."

Yeji smiled at him and he felt his resistance crumbling.

"Oppa..."

The word made him feel warm as it left her pretty lips.

"I really need you to do this for me."

He was aware that Yeji had just closed the door behind her. He took a deep breath, hoping this was just a dream. Or maybe was he hoping for it to be real?

"I'll reward you, of course."

"Reward me?"

A victorious smile played around her lips.

"Take out your phone, oppa."

He felt his blood rush into his cock, whenever she called him that. Just the idea of a chance with her...

"You're welcome to take as many pictures as you like."

"Pictures?"

"Do you want me to pose for you?"

Her warm smile made him eagerly nod his head.

He quickly took a picture of her, afraid she would change her mind.

"What do you think of this?"

Yeji closed on eye as if she was winking, while biting one of her nails.

The manager felt his cock harden as he quickly shoot two more pictures.

"And this?"

She bit down on her lower lip, while hooking her thumb under her belt as if she was gonna take off her pants.

His mouth was opened wide as more and more pictures filled his phone. By now he almost took pictures by the second as Yeji made a show out of pulling the transparent plastic straps of her top off her shoulders.

"Do you like it when I strip in front of you?"

He was too busy watching her and capturing the moment with his camera to respond. With a knowing smile, Yeji turned to the side, her hand followed the curves of her body.

"Do you like how slim my waist is? I'm sure you'd love to get your hands on that."

When her hand finally reached her chest, she used her other hand to playfully wag her finger.

"No peeking, oppa."

She turned around completely, so he could get a great couple of shots of her back. He held his breath when he watched her slowly slide down her top. Her upper back was now fully exposed.

"You have to promise to drive her to that address, oppa."

It took him a moment to realize she expected a response.

"Of course. I...I'll get her there."

"Do you really promise it?"

"Yes. Yes, I promise."

"Thank you so much, oppa."

Yeji sent him one last smile over her shoulder, before slowly turning around.

Jieun's heart is pounding in her chest as she raises her hand to knock on the door. Third floor, second room on the left. Who's gonna be in that room? No one is gonna make her do weird things, right? She got some inappropriate requests before. But if her CEO told her to go here, it can't be something bad. He'd want her best after all, right?

She takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. She doesn't hear any noises inside the room. After waiting for a good 20 seconds, she knocks again. Still nothing. Jieun places her ear on the wooden door. No one is talking. Or moving. It seems like the room is empty. So maybe she just needs to get inside? Is she supposed to meet someone? If they aren't here yet, when are they coming?

Jieun sighs in frustration and reaches for the doorknob. The fact that she's totally clueless and unprepared makes her feel unsafe and awkward. But eventually, she slowly opens the door.

The room is bigger than Jieun imagined. It's pretty large actually. A huge bed, a couch, a coffee table and... Her breath hitches as she takes a closer look at the left side of the room, behind the couch. Is that a....a sex swing that is hanging from the ceiling? She slowly steps into the room as she notices two cardboard boxes next to the bed. This can't be a sex room or something, right? Her CEO would never do this. Or is it him she's now waiting for?

Jieun's throat feels awfully dry as she bends down to open one of the boxes. She's hoping for something that would explain all of this. Maybe it's just a prank? Or an escape room? Her imagination starts to run wild.

Opening the box, her eyes widen at the first two things she sees. Both black. But both have entirely different purposes. One of them is silicon dildo, it's length making Jieun already sick. Does anyone expect her to take this? With shaking fingers, she reaches for the other item. A whip. A leather whip. She was never a fan of any hardcore stuff. And this is definitely too much. She feels something uncomfortable bubble up inside of her. As if she's getting sick. Her eyes land on a door on the right side of the bed. A bathroom? The lights are on. Maybe just in case...

She suddenly hears something that makes her blood run cold. The door she stepped through earlier has just been closed. Jieun's grip around the whip tightens. She takes a deep breath and then turns around.

"Unnie?"

Irene is standing between Jieun and the door.

For a moment, she is relived. A familiar face. A friend even. But Irene's cold expression soon takes away the feeling of hope.

"What...What are you doing here?"

Without a word, Irene walks towards the couch. Jieun catches her letting a key fall into the pocket of her red jacket. The key for the door?

"Why don't you take a seat?"

An evil smile plays around Irene's lips as she says that.

Jieun hesitates. She thought she could trust Irene. But she's the one who just locked the two of them inside this room.

"Are...Are you the one who gave my manager the envelope?"

Irene lets out an annoyed sigh instead or an answer.

"Just do what I tell you to do."

"Excuse me?"

Jieun is slowly starting to get irritated, even angry. Why the hell is she here? In this place? She could be home by now. Lying on her bed. Recovering from today's busy schedule.

"You heard me. I already took a picture of you at the front door outside. The reporters would love to know why you're in a place like this. Don't you agree?"

"I...What do you want?"

Irene opens her mouth slightly as if she just thought of something. She looks Jieun up and down.

"Why don't you..."

A sly smile plays around her lips.

"Why don't you get on your knees?"

"What? Do you want me to beg or something? This is ridiculous."

She can hear her voice becoming louder. But Irene just slowly shakes her head.

"You heard me."

Now she's pointing at the floor.

Jieun swallows hard. If Irene really took a picture, it could be come really dangerous. She realized by now that this is a love motel. Not some ordinary hotel. And it'd be of no use to explain that someone told her to come here, if Irene would really leak the photo.

Slowly, trying her best to give Irene her best death stare, Jieun sinks to her knees on the black carpet.

"Come here."

Irene slowly crosses one leg over the other, her eyes set on Jieun.

The young woman hesitates, but she realizes that there's no way out of this. If doing what Irene says will make this be over quicker, so be it.

An amused chuckle leaves Irene's lips as she watches Jieun carefully crawl towards her. She avoids eye contact until she is kneeling right in front of her.

"Good girl."

Irene's degrading tone makes Jieun roll her eyes, her face partially hidden by her hair.

"Clean them."

"What?"

Her head shoots upwards.

For a moment, she thought Irene was joking. But she's just moving her right foot a little closer to her face.

"Clean them. Or your career will be over by tomorrow."

Jieun grimaces as she takes a look at Irene's feet. They're clad in elegant black high-heeled sandals, which feature an open toe design and a slim ankle strap tied with a delicate bow in the front. Her toenails are painted in plain white. It's not like Irene has ugly feet, it's the opposite really, but the humiliation is almost too much for Jieun. The two of them might be the only ones in the room. But she could never ever face her, once she started.

After taking a deep breath, Jieun closes her eyes and sticks her tongue out. She licks her instep from the bottom to the top, until she reaches the bow. She quickly does the motion a second time, hoping that Irene had enough. But the older woman, slightly tilts her foot signaling Jieun to keep going. She sighs and starts to lick both sides of Irene's foot, until her tongue has covered every inch.

"Take it off."

Jieun quickly fumbles for the bow, hoping she's now halfway done. To her dismay, Irene just wiggles her toes after her shoe hits the floor. Jieun grits her teeth, but then takes Irene's toes into her mouth, one after the other. She sucks on them, lets her tongue clean them thoroughly. Once Irene had enough, she lifts her foot higher. With a crooked eyebrow, she silently tells Jieun to lick the bottom of her foot as well.

"Good girl."

Her praise almost makes Jieun shake her head in disgust. But when Irene finally lowers her foot to the floor, she sighs in relief.

"I hope for your sake you do a better job with the second one."

Jieun nods, resigning herself to her fate. She sticks out her tongue as Irene holds up her left foot. Once more, she licks Irene's instep with closed eyes. Afraid that Irene might become unsatisfied, Jieun does her best this time. She thoroughly cleans Irene's foot in every way she can. Just while she's sucking on two of her toes, she hears someone else's voice.

"I think she's starting to like it."

Jieun jumps. She looks to her left and stares with wide open eyes into the camera of someone's phone.

"Smile, unnie."

The girl's sweet, seemingly happy voice, confuses Jieun. What the hell is going on?

Looking past the phone, she quickly recognizes the culprit.

"Y-Yujin?"

"I hope you don't mind us. Just keep going."

"Us?"

Jieun looks around and realizes she has been too focused on satisfying Irene. Yujin is standing on her left and another girl on her right.

"Yeji?"

"Hi, unnie. Seems like your manager really liked my photos."

"What?"

Jieun feels even more confused and surprised than when she first stepped into this room. What is going on? Why are they all here?

Suddenly, someone else strokes her hair from behind.

"I always wanted to get a chance like this, unnie. I bet you're tight."

Jieun can't believe that someone would say these things about her. And she immediately recognizes the voice

"Karina?"

In the back of her head, Jieun is still wondering where the three girls came from. But she's focused back on Irene, who leans down a little.

"You really thought you'd get away with this, huh?"

"A...Away with what?"

Jieun can hear her own voice trembling.

Yeji rolls her eyes.

"Your popularity has increased throughout the year."

She looks her up and down with a dissatisfied look on her face

"For some reason."

Irene takes Jieun's chin into her hand.

"And I'm sure you can understand why we're annoyed by that, huh?"

"Well, I-"

"I still don't get it."

Yujin interrupts her.

"You have literally nothing to offer. No cool dancing, no real popular songs, nothing."

Jieun's initial shame gets partially replaced by anger. She didn't work this hard for years to just get bullied by these four girls.

"Leave me alone already. Maybe you should work harder."

Yeji scoffs in disbelief. Jieun feels Karina's hand in her hair again, but this time it isn't as gentle as before.

"Work harder? Oh please."

She pulls her hair a little, making Jieun look up at her.

"I'm sure the only work you ever did was sleeping around with rich men, so they buy your albums."

"That's right. How else would you be able to sell so many copies."

Yujin chimes in.

"I didn't sleep around with anyone! I-"

"Silence."

Irene's cold voice would've been enough to make Jieun stop talking. But the older woman even covered Jieun's mouth with her naked foot.

"I don't want to hear excuses. From now on, I expect you to tone it down. Got it? Maybe take a break from releasing music or something."

Her voice sounds threatening and Jieun is still very aware that Irene has those photos of her. Actually, Yeji seems to now have photos of her, worshipping Irene's feet. That's even worse. Maybe Jieun should just take this lecture and leave.

"Now, I'm sure you get what I'm saying."

Irene lowers her foot and leans back.

"But, to make sure you really understand, we should teach you a lesson."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why don't we start by getting that little dress off?"

Yujin whispers into her ear, a finger already hooked under one of the brown straps.

"Wait! You can't do this!"

Jieun looks to her left, when Yeji pulls the other strap off her shoulder as well.

"Trust me, unnie. We can."

Karina reaches down from behind her and opens the big belt that covers Jieun's chest. As the dress slides down, Jieun instinctively moves her hand to cover her chest. She isn't wearing a bra.

"Don't get all shy now, unnie. You looked like you really enjoyed it earlier."

Jieun shakes her head at Yujin's words.

"What is there to cover anyways?"

Karina grabs the older woman's wrists and pushes them down. Jieun struggles against her, but she doesn't stand a chance. Her cheeks burn with embarrassment as she's now kneeling topless on the floor, the four girls around her.

"What is this supposed to be?"

Karina runs a hand over Jieun's tits, after Yujin and Yeji both took one of Jieun's hands.

"You're older than me, unnie."

Yujin perfectly mimicks that concerned tone.

"But you have nothing to show off."

Jieun would hang her head in shame, if it wasn't for Karina's hand in her hair. She was always a little insecure about her size. Most of the other idols and actresses have at least something. But she always felt like she wouldn't even need to wear a bra.

"I really don't have a clue to why you're so popular."

Karina's voice in her ear makes Jieun shiver.

"You don't even have tits."

"Her fans are probably all girls."

Yeji's comment makes Karina nod her head in understanding.

"I guess so."

She pulls at Jieun's hair again, making her look up at her.

"Look at this."

With her other hand, Karina grabs the hem of her black top and pulls it upwards. She isn't wearing a bra either. Her tits basically spring free, after the restricting top is gone.

"Jealous?"

A wicked smile plays around her lips.

Before Jieun can answer, Karina leans down, covering her face with her chest.

"Why don't you be as kind to me as you were to Irene, unnie?"

A tug at her hair makes Jieun understand that it wasn't a question. Karina isn't waiting for an answer.

Jieun closes her eyes once more and carefully sticks out her tongue. She can't believe she already had her mouth on Irene's feet. And now she has to do it with Karina's tits too?

She feels someone pulling her dress off even further, but she can't resist. She diligently licks every spot on Karina's tits that she can find, hoping for a quick end. When Karina pulls away a little, she guides Jieun towards her nipples. The older woman takes one of them into her mouth, sucking on it for a while, before focusing on the other one.

"Damn, have you done this before?"

Karina sighs, visibly satisfied.

Still occupied with the younger girl's tits, Jieun doesn't respond. But she almost yelps in surprise, when she feels someone's hand slip inside her dress. Her panties get pushed to the side. Jieun suddenly feels a little hotter than before. A weird sense of anticipation rushes through her for a moment. She feels a finger brush against her folds.

"Here you go, unnie."

Jieun hears Yujin's voice. But it seems like the words weren't directed at her. The finger quickly gets replaced by something else. Something harder and slightly colder. Jieun feels it pushing against her folds, slowly penetrating her pussy. It's size makes her moan into Karina's tits as her walls stretch around the mysterious object.

It takes a her a moment to figure out what it could be.

"Oh god."

She sighs, her voice muffled by Karina, who makes her suck on her nipples once more. While she's coating them in her spit, she feels the dildo push further into her. Is that the huge black one from one of the boxes? She can't tell, but it certainly feels like it. Just when she's about beg for them to not push it all the way inside of her, she hears Irene's voice.

"Jieun, look at me."

Karina lets go off her and moves back a little. Jieun opens her eyes. She's about to glance down at herself, when she sees Irene. The oldest is still sitting seemingly relaxed on the couch. But something has changed. Jieun recognizes the whip she is holding. The one she found earlier. But that's not the only thing that changed. Her eyes grow wide when she takes a closer look at Irene's lap.

"W...What is that?"

"I'm sure you know what it is."

Irene moves her free hand down. She looks at Jieun, while teasingly stroking the strap on she is wearing.

"Why don't you get your pretty lips over here and give it a lick?"

"I...I thought you'd let me go after-"

"Let you go?"

Irene has trouble holding back her laughter.

"We haven't finished your lesson yet. And the way you're behaving right now tells me we might be here all night."

"All night? No, I can't. I have to go home and-"

"You look so pretty here, unnie."

Yeji interrupts her and shows Jieun her phone screen. She recognizes herself. On her knees. Her lips wrapped around Irene's toes.

For a moment, Jieun feels like her heart stopped beating. For a moment, she wonders if she should just leave now. Let them publish the photos. She could go to a remote place where no one would find her. The humiliation would be huge. But it would be better than this. Right?

Jieun glances at herself in the picture once more. She takes a deep breath and leans forward. Sticking her tongue out, she places it on the silicon tip of Irene's blue strap on.

"Good girl."

Irene purrs, making Jieun close her eyes. She slowly drags her tongue along the length of the dildo, until it reaches the base. She's still very aware of the other plastic object, which is still inside of her. But no one has moved it for a while now. So maybe it won't be too bad?

Jieun keeps her tongue glued to the silicon and soon wraps her lips around it as well. It takes her a couple of moments, but eventually she is able to imagine herself with a really handsome man. Of course it doesn't feel the same. But it might make it easier. She pretends to really like him. He is very attractive. His cock tastes amazing as her lips glide up and down his shaft. He showers her with praises. How beautiful she is. How good her lips feel. How skillful she is with her tongue. When Irene takes a hold of the back of Jieun's neck, she pretends she is the man she's sucking off. The older woman pushes her head further down, making her take more of the dildo.

As Jieun gets more and more into it, the three keep watching her for a while. But eventually, Karina and Yeji walk over the two boxes next to the bed. Yujin can't help herself though. One hand gives her breasts small squeezes through her own top, while her other hand has slipped past the waistband of her pants.

"Come on, you can do better."

Irene's voice seems sweet as she pushes Jieun's hair out of the way.

"Make it all wet. For your sake."

Jieun barely registers her words, already too deep into her own fantasy. But the further Irene pushes her head down, the sloppier her blowjob becomes. Soon, Jieun is taking the whole dildo. It barely grazes the back of her mouth everytime her lips kiss its base. Yujin has now taken her leather pants off, her panties are lying next to her. She can't look away as she watches Jieun sucking cock. Two of her fingers are buried inside of her.

Meanwhile, both Karina and Yeji have each put on a strap on as well. Karina's is larger than Yeji's and Irene's with Yeji's being the smallest of the three. In addition to that, Karina took out a pair of nipple clamps from one of the boxes, while Yeji is holding a red rope.

"You know what? Why don't you help your dongsaeng out? Looks like she needs a little help."

Jieun's fantasy vanishes as Irene pulls her off her strap on. The younger woman glances at Yujin, who is leaning against the backrest of the couch, cute moans leaving her lips. Jieun had never had sex with another woman before. She's never tasted someone else's pussy. For a moment, she thinks about declining. But the threat of the pictures don't give her much of a choice.

"Do it. Eat her out like it's your last meal."

Irene's words finally make Jieun move. When she does, she remembers the dildo inside of her. She lets out an involuntary moan. She's been stretched out for a couple of minutes now. Her pussy already got used to it. But now that she's moving, it seems to reposition itself inside of her.

Yujin moves her hand away when Jieun leans in. Her breath hitches as the older woman places her lips on her pussy. Jieun tries to mimick the motions from when she herself got eaten out in the past. She takes it slow at first. Licking Yujin's folds, inserting her tongue into her cunt, sucking at her clit. She keeps alternating between all these options, slowly turning Yujin into a moaning mess. Maybe if she made her cum, she'd have a chance to leave? Jieun is doubtful, but all she can do is hope.

She focuses on pleasuring Yujin, truly trying to make her orgasm. The younger girl starts to push Jieun's head further into her core, trying to get even more of her tongue inside of her. Meanwhile, Yeji has handed the rope to Irene, who is now kneeling behind Jieun. Before she can react, Yeji takes a hold of her wrists once more. Jieun instinctively struggles against her grip. But Yeji is too strong for her. And Yujin pushing her further into her pussy doesn't help at all. She can feel how Irene starts to tie her hands together with the rope. At the same time, Karina has moved to Jieun's left. She reaches underneath her head.

Jieun almost screams at the unexpected pang of pain. Karina has put one end of the metallic nipple clamps onto her left nipple. Jieun almost sees stars, but tries to concentrate on Yujin. If she endures all of that without complaint, they might let her go sooner. Karina now attaches the other end, which is connected with the left one by a small metal chain, to Jieun's right nipple. This time, she's prepared for it. It still hurts, but she can keep it under control.

"Unnie."

Yujin whines. The scene in front of her and Jieun's work brings her closer to her orgasm. She bucks her hips forward, her grip on Jieun's head tightening.

"Oh, damn!"

She cries out as Jieun makes her climax. Her juices spill out of her, partially staining Jieun's face. The older girl is about to wipe it off, when she remembers that her hands are tied behind her back.

"I hope you can take this well."

Irene's cold voice suddenly rings in her ear. Jieun feels how something pokes her rear entrance.

"Wait! I never-"

Too late. Irene is already pushing forward, the strap on slowly disappearing into Jieun's puckered hole. Her eyes roll to the back of her head. The nipple clamps, the dildo inside her pussy and the dildo inside her ass overstimulate her. She's never felt like this before. So full. So...So turned on. She can't really explain it. Mere minutes ago, she never thought she'd ever eat another woman out. She was disgusted by the thought of having to worship Irene's feet. But here she is now. The first time someone takes her ass and Jieun can't do anything but moan out. It's almost like her body is betraying her. Her mind is still fighting this. She's ashamed. But at the same time, her body is starting to welcome all of this. It welcomes every thrust of Irene's dildo.

Surprisingly, it doesn't take her that long to get accustomed to it. Just when Irene is about to fuck her properly, Yeji turns Jieun's head towards her. Her mouth lands on her strap on and Jieun instinctively lets it part her lips. Moments later, her mouth, her pussy and her ass are all filled with dildos. She has never felt like this before. She never even dreamed of this. But for some reason, her punishment is turning into something special. Something good. Unconsciously, Jieun begins to ride the dildo inside of her. The friction which is caused by that and Irene's strap on makes her eyes roll to the back of her head. She does her best to keep sucking off Yeji, her tongue swirling around the plastic tip, whenever the dildo threatens to slip out of her mouth. Now she doesn't mind being tied up. Jieun starts to enjoy the attention. It's almost like all the pleasure and degradation has changed her mind. She isn't bothered by Karina occasionally tugging at the chain between the nipple clamps, making her nipples hurt even more.

"You think, if I keep doing that, you might have a chance of going up a bra size?"

She isn't bothered by Karina's words. And she still isn't bothered when Karina starts pulling harder, actually stretching her tits a little.

"Maybe then it's worth it for you to wear a bra. The smallest size of course."

She isn't bothered by Karina's degrading tone. And Jieun definitely isn't bothered by Irene slowly picking up the pace.

The longer her holes are filled, the more she falls in love with the feeling. At some point, Yeji and Karina change position. Now, Jieun is sucking on Karina's strap on. But instead of just tugging at the nipple clamps, Yeji stole the whip from Irene. She first tries out the new toy on Jieun's ass cheeks. It doesn't hurt her much. The pleasure is almost too much for her to feel any pain at all. But soon her cheeks are covered with red marks. Once she's satisfied, Yeji moves onto Jieun's tits. She uses the whip on them as well. This time, it definitely hurts more. Jieun occasionally lets out a yelp around Karina's dildo, whenever Yeji hits her a little harder.

"I want to ruin her too, unnie."

Yujin's whine makes Irene come to a hold. Jieun sighs in disappointment as some of the pleasure leaves her body. When Irene pulls out, her ass feels so empty. The unsatisfying feeling almost starts to drive her wild. By now, Jieun has started to get used to being filled completely.

"Please..."

She tries to talk with Karina's dildo in her mouth.

"Please use my ass."

Irene smirks at her words. She knew that Jieun wouldn't last much longer. She once heard her moan inside her dressing room at an award show maybe one or two years ago. Since that moment, she knew that Jieun had the potential to be a slut. She knew that this would be the best way for everyone. Perfect to pressure Jieun into taking a backseat, while the other girl's popularity could skyrocket. And also just over all beautiful to see Jieun slowly break down. Slowly succumbing to this guilty pleasure.

"Let's move her to the bed."

Moments later, Jieun is straddling Karina's lap, her strap on angled at the older woman's cunt. When she sinks down on it, a relieved sigh leaves Jieun's lips. Another one soon follows, when she feels Yujin slowly push her new dildo into her ass. She already feels full again. The two fake cocks inside of her make her head spin. When she starts to moan, Jieun quickly gets silenced by not one, but two dildos filling her mouth. She does her best to give them both equal attention. Her tongue aims for every part of their dildos it can reach. Her lips glide along both shafts.

Jieun can feel the chain between the nipple clamps hit her stomach as Yujin increases the pace. In return, Jieun rides Karina's dildo even faster. She really needs to feel that friction between the two strap ons. It just feels amazing. It's almost impossible for her to describe this feeling.

"What a good slut you are."

Irene caresses Jieun's bulging cheek.

At the beginning, Jieun would've felt disgust after hearing those words. But now she's silently begging Irene for another compliment. She leans her head into her hand as much as possible.

"You're liking it now, do you?"

Jieun is unable to nod her head, but her eyes say everything.

She's already forgotten all about the pictures, when the four of them move her to the sex swing. She is barely moving by now. They've successfully turned her into a pleasure addicted toy. Once they're all in position, Irene pushes her dildo into her ass once more. It's still wet with Jieun's saliva. It feels perfect inside of her. Every one of Irene's thrust makes the swing move. Karina is now standing in front of her. Whenever Irene bottoms out inside her ass, Jieun gets pushed onto Karina's dildo. She does her best to suck on it, before Irene moves back again. It only takes a couple of thrust from Irene, until the three of them have found the perfect rhythm.

Both Yujin and Yeji have taken a break from punishing Jieun. They're both lying on the couch, Yeji on top of Yujin. They're enjoying each other, while eating each other out. Their moans sync with Jieun's as she gets basically spit roasted by Irene and Karina.

There really seems to be no end in sight for Jieun. She doesn't know what time it is. Curtains are covering the windows, not letting any light inside the room. Is it morning already? It doesn't matter. Her body is completely worn out, completely used. But the four women don't stop using her. She's now lying back on the bed again. Her hands are still tied behind her back, but a couple of minutes ago, Karina tied her feet together as well. So now Jieun can't move at all. She feels like she isn't even inside her own body anymore. It's like she is watching a movie. But only small parts of it.

"Please let me cum."

She whines as Irene drives her towards the edge, just so she can deny her her orgasm again. And because her limbs are tied, Jieun can't do anything about it. She can only lie on her stomach, her hands on her back, waiting for Irene to start moving again. But Irene has other plans.

"You still have one more foot to go."

Jieun looks at Yujin's right foot. The younger girl is sitting at the head of the bed. The left one has already been cleaned by Jieun. And now, she has to clean the right one too, before Irene starts to fuck her again.

Jieun starts by taking one of Yujin's toes into her mouth. She slowly sucks on it, still not really accustomed to the feeling. But when she suddenly feels the leather pieces of the whip sliding teasingly over her ass cheeks, she quickens her pace.

It's too late though. Irene wasn't satisfied. The whip cracks and a second later, Jieun's right cheek starts to burn.

"Unnie."

She whines, unable to hide her pain. But she quickly moves onto the next toe. Another hit from the whip and both her cheeks hurt. Irene is just starting to enjoy herself. No matter how quick or thorough Jieun is, she feels the whip hit her ass every couple of seconds. She knows Irene won't stop, until she completely cleaned Yujin's feet.

A couple of minutes later, or maybe even an hour later, Jieun has completely lost her sense for time, she finds herself being carried by Yeji and Karina. Yeji is standing behind her, lifting her up and down, her cock sliding in and out of Jieun's ass. Which also means, Jieun is forced to take Karina's strap on as well. Her pussy and her ass are getting stretched out at the same time. She's eye to eye level with Karina, who keeps degrading her.

"Have you ever thought of just getting implants?"

"I...No. I-Oh, god! I haven't."

"Trust me you should. Your fans would appreciate it."

Karina gives her a wicked smirk, knowing full well that that would never happen. Even if Jieun would want to do that, the company would say no.

"Of course everyone would know your tits are fake. But who cares, right? At least you'd look less pathetic."

"Maybe work on your ass little more too."

Yeji speaks up from behind, her dildo still stretching out Jieun's puckered hole.

"You could put on the tightest dress and no one would see a single curve on your body."

Jieun sighs and whines in protest in their arms, trying to defend herself. She's completely fine with being used. She's fine with all four of them ruining all her holes. But the degradation still gets to her.

"I...I thought you wanted me to get less popular."

"Oh, you think because of fake tits you're gonna be more popular?"

Karina laughs at her face, while Jieun can only bite her lip, trying to hold back an orgasm. She was so desperate for one earlier. But now she doesn't dare to climax, while Karina and Yeji are basically body shaming her.

"No way. You'd lose all your real fans and only horny guys would jerk off to you."

"I'd love to see that."

Yeji groans into Jieun's ear. The older woman is small and light, but eventually even she becomes too heavy.

"The only thing you have going for you are your tight holes."

"Maybe that's what you should start selling, instead of music. What do you think?"

Karina's mocking smile makes Jieun turn her head away. But it's already too late. With an embarrassed whine leaving her lips, she orgasms hard. Her pussy clenches onto Karina's dildo, her walls tightening further and further. Her body shakes in their arms.

"Pathetic."

After all four of them put their dildos inside of her for the first time, she started to lose control. Parts of her memories don't really connect together. She remembers being bent over the sink inside the bathroom, someone using her pussy like a fleshlight. A minute later, she's sitting on the sex swing with both Yeji and Yujin trusting their strap ons into Jieun's used pussy. All memories of the night mix together into one blur. To Jieun nothing makes sense anymore. The four of them seem to have endless stamina.

In the end, Jieun finally wakes up from a deep sleep. She gets scared when she realizes she can't move. She's lying on a bed, staring at the ceiling. Her arms are tied together, but not behind her back. They're placed above her stomach. Her ankles are tied together as well. But with enough room for easy access to her pussy.

Jieun hears the same noise that seems to have woken her up. She slightly lifts her head and immediately lets it fall back onto the mattress. Shame colours her cheeks, just like the night before.

"Jieun-ssi."

Her manager calls her name softly. The four girls must've left while she was passed out. She is alone in the room, her manager standing in the doorframe. When she lifts her head again, Jieun notices his phone in his hand. He definitely took pictures of her. But now, his eyes are glued to the wide open hole between her legs. Her body is still experiencing the aftermath of her punishment.

"I hope you don't mind if I just..."

He doesn't finish his sentence. Instead, he lowers his phone and starts to unbuckle his belt. Jieun wants to say something, but quickly notices that someone stuffed her mouth with her own panties.

When her manager lets his pants drop to the floor, Jieun finally understands the message. Her lesson isn't over yet. And it never will be.

---------

Hi, everyone!

I hope you enjoyed the story. It was a little harder to write, because I've never written something like this before.

I got feedback on the other two fics before this one, specifically mentioning that some parts feel rushed and aren't connected perfectly. I'd love to use my lack of sleep as an excuse, but that wouldn't be fair to you guys. In this fic, I've tried my best to correct my mistakes from before, but I also feel like slightly rushed scenes and abruptly cut off scenes actually fit IU's experience here.

I'll try to get on top of the current problem as best as I can. But from now on, I'll prioritize quality over the schedule, which means, I might push the release dates of the other two stories a couple of days back. I hope that's okay with you guys. I'm sure you'd rather read a top tier fic a day or two later, instead of reading a sloppily written story on time. I'll let you know on Saturday, if I'm unable to post the next story on Sunday. It shouldn't take me longer than one or two extra days anyway.

I apologize for the inconvenience.

Have a great day and stay healthy!

[marvyu]

MIDNIGHT INK

pairings. jungkook x female reader genre(s). smut,fluff

summary. a faded tattoo marks your heartbreak. desperate for a fresh start, you visit Jungkook, a trusted tattoo artist and secret confidant you secretly love.

warnings. explicit language, sexual themes, past relationships, heartbreak, and emotional healing, swearing, unprotected sex, lots of kissing, oral sex, missionary position, and implied consensual rough sex.

sitting on your bed, you watched your reflection in the mirror, your fingers tracing the outline of the faded tattoo on your lower back. once a symbol of love, it had become a haunting reminder of heartbreak. you needed to rid yourself of it, something to signify a fresh start.

finally, you picked up your phone from the desk and called the one person you trusted implicitly.

"hello?"

"hey, before you leave, can i get a quick one done on my lower back?" you asked hesitantly. "trying to get a cover-up."

"yeah, sure, be here by eleven-thirty, okay?"

"alright, cool, thanks." you stayed silent for a minute, hoping he'd say more, but the call ended abruptly.

glancing at the clock, your eyes widened. it was 11:20. with a groan, you grabbed your keys and rushed out. the tattoo shop was only five minutes from your home, but october's chill and early darkness made the journey feel longer.

despite the recent breakup with your boyfriend, you always found yourself returning to him—jungkook. he was the man you confided in, sharing all your problems, including tales of your toxic relationship. though he listened, sometimes distant, you sensed he disliked hearing about your ex. yet, he was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on; truth be told, he was the reason you frequented the tattoo shop.

upon arrival, the sign's lights flickered at the entrance. taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open. jungkook looked up from his station, his sleeves rolled up, revealing his tattoo-covered arms. his dark, intense gaze swept over you, making your heart flutter.

"hey," he greeted, a slow smile spreading. "ready?"

you nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. "yeah, thanks for staying late."

"no problem," he replied, his voice low and soothing. he gestured to the tattoo chair. "take a seat. let's see what we're working with."

as you settled into the chair, a mix of nerves and excitement coursed through you. jungkook moved with practised ease, gathering his tools and preparing the area.

"alright, let's take a look," he said calmly, lifting the back of your hoodie. his fingers brushed against your skin, lingering longer than necessary, sending a shiver down your spine.

jungkook's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of desire in his eyes before he focused back on your skin. "15th of… december… 2023," he murmured, staring at your tattoo.

embarrassed, you leaned your head against the seat. "yeah, that's when we started dating."

he hummed in response, studying the faded tattoo. "this will be a great cover-up. do you have a design in mind, or want me to freestyle something?"

"i trust you," you whispered. "just something that represents a new beginning."

jungkook nodded, his expression serious and thoughtful. "got it. i'll sketch something out quickly."

you watched as he worked, his hands moving swiftly and confidently. the room was filled with the soft hum of the neon sign outside and the quiet scratch of his pencil on paper. after a few minutes, he held up the sketch for you to see.

"how about this?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for approval.

the design was beautiful—delicate yet bold, perfectly capturing what you wanted. "it's perfect," you grinned.

"glad you like it. let's get started," he smiled.

he carefully transferred the design onto your skin, his touch sending another shiver through you. "ready?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

you nodded, unable to find your voice. the first touch of the needle was sharp but bearable. the pain quickly faded into the background, overshadowed by the sensation of jungkook's hands on your skin. each touch, each brush of his fingers, felt amplified in the intimate quiet of the shop.

jungkook worked with steady precision, his eyes never leaving your skin. "you're doing great," he murmured, his breath warm against your back. "just a little longer."

you tried to focus on the rhythm of his work, but your mind kept drifting to the closeness of his body and his hands' warmth. the tension between you was palpable, each minute passing in a haze of anticipation and desire. his fingers occasionally brushed against your skin in a way that felt more intentional than accidental, sending waves of heat coursing through you.

as the tattoo session continued, you found yourself mesmerized by the sensation of his touch. the combination of the late hour, the dim lighting, and the intimate nature of the session made every moment feel charged with electricity. you could feel the heat of his body close to yours, the soft brush of his breath on your skin.

"how does it feel?" he asked softly, his voice a soothing balm with a dark, underlying current.

"it's… it's good," you managed to reply, your voice shaking slightly. "thank you, jungkook."

he smiled, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "almost done. just hang in there."

the final strokes of the tattoo machine were almost a relief, though you couldn't deny the pang of disappointment at the thought of his touch ending. when he finally finished, jungkook leaned back to admire his work, his expression of satisfaction mixed with something deeper.

"all done," he said softly. "take a look."

you stood up and walked to the mirror, turning to see the new tattoo on your lower back. it was beautiful, a perfect cover-up that transformed an old regret into something new and meaningful.

"wow," you said, your voice filled with genuine awe. "i love it."

he stepped closer, his gaze intense and dark with unspoken desire. "i'm glad you like it," he said.

for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. it was just the two of you, standing in the quiet, dimly lit shop, the air thick with unspoken feelings and charged with undeniable tension.

"thank you," you whispered, your eyes locking with his.

jungkook's hand brushed against your cheek, and your heart skipped a beat. his touch was gentle yet firm, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your breath catch. "you're welcome," he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "anytime."

as you stared into each other's eyes, the air between you seemed to crackle with electricity, the line between professional and personal blurring beyond recognition. the tension was almost unbearable, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, craving more.

jungkook's fingers trailed down your cheek to your neck, his touch igniting a fire within you. "you know," he said softly, his lips just inches from yours, "i've always been here for you. and i always will be."

his hand lingered on your neck, his thumb gently brushing your jawline as he stared into your eyes. the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine, and the air between you crackled with unspoken desire. you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing the growing tension in the room.

"you have no idea how long i've wanted this," he whispered, his voice husky and filled with longing.

your breath hitched, and you leaned in closer without thinking, your lips just a breath away from his. the anticipation was almost unbearable, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body, drawing you in.

unable to resist any longer, you closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss. jungkook responded immediately, his lips soft yet insistent against yours. the kiss deepened slowly, fueled by the weeks of suppressed desire and the intimate setting of the tattoo shop. his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further. the sensation was electric, sending waves of heat coursing through your body.

your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. the sensation of his heartbeat under your palm matched the frantic pace of your own. every touch, every movement was charged, making your skin tingle with anticipation.

jungkook broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he trailed kisses down your neck. "god, i've wanted this for so long," he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming over your back, tracing the newly inked tattoo.

you let out a soft moan, arching into his touch. "me too," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "i've wanted you for so long."

he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and filled with desire as he looked at you. "then let's not waste any more time," he said, his voice a low growl.

with a swift movement, he lifted you onto the tattoo chair, positioning himself between your legs. the cool leather against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat building between you. jungkook's hands slid under your hoodie, pushing it up to reveal more of your skin. he kissed a trail down your collarbone, his fingers deftly undoing the clasp of your bra.

your breath hitched as he pulled the bra away, his lips capturing one of your nipples in a hot, wet kiss. you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavished attention on your breasts, his hands kneading the soft flesh.

"jungkook," you moaned, the sound of his name a desperate plea on your lips.

he responded by kissing his way back up to your mouth, his tongue parting your lips as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. the kiss was deep and fervent, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips when they parted. his hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and dip, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

you could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, and the sensation only heightened your own desire. with a trembling hand, you reached down, palming him through his jeans. he let out a low groan, the sound vibrating through you and making you even wetter.

"need you," you gasped against his lips, your voice breathless with need.

jungkook pulled back just enough to tug off his shirt, revealing the expanse of tattoos that decorated his chest and arms. you couldn't help but run your hands over his skin, tracing the lines of ink with your fingers.

he made quick work of your clothes, stripping you bare before him. the cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but the look in jungkook's eyes sent a new wave of warmth through you. he kissed you again, his hands exploring your body with a fervent intensity.

his fingers found their way between your legs, sliding through your wetness with practiced ease. you gasped, bucking into his hand as he teased your entrance.

"you're so wet for me," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. "i want to taste you."

before you could respond, he knelt between your thighs, his tongue darting out to taste you. the sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out, your hands gripping the edges of the tattoo chair as he licked and sucked at your most sensitive spots.

jungkook's tongue moved with expert precision, driving you closer and closer to the edge. just as you felt the first tremors of your orgasm, he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal.

"i want you to come with me inside you," he said, his voice rough with desire.

you nodded, too breathless to speak, and he quickly shed the rest of his clothes. the sight of him, fully naked and aroused, made your mouth water. he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locking with yours as he slowly pushed inside.

the sensation of him filling you was indescribable, a perfect mix of pleasure and pressure. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as he began to move. each thrust was deliberate and powerful, driving you closer to the edge with each stroke.

jungkook's hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he moved faster, his breath hot against your neck. "you're mine," he growled, his voice filled with possessive desire.

"yes," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. "i'm yours."

the words seemed to spur him on, and he increased his pace, driving into you with an almost desperate intensity. your orgasm built rapidly, a tight coil of pleasure that finally snapped, sending you over the edge with a cry of his name.

jungkook followed you over the edge, his own release shuddering through him as he buried himself deep inside you. he collapsed against you, both of you breathing heavily as the aftershocks of your orgasms coursed through you.

for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. it was just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet, dimly lit shop, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

"that was…" you began, but trailed off, unable to find the words.

"amazing," jungkook finished for you, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

you nodded, a matching smile spreading across your face. "yeah. amazing."

jungkook pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. "i told you," he murmured, his voice soft and tender. "i'll always be here for you."

you nestled closer to him, savouring the warmth of his body against yours. "and i'll always be here for you," you whispered back, feeling a profound sense of connection and contentment.

jungkook pulled back slightly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "we should get cleaned up," he said, but made no move to let you go. instead, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and affectionate.

you smiled, leaning into his touch. "yeah, but maybe we can stay like this for just a little longer," you suggested, not ready to break the intimate cocoon that had enveloped you both.

he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "i like the sound of that."

the two of you lay there for a while, wrapped up in each other's arms, the quiet of the tattoo shop providing a serene backdrop to your tender moment. the reality of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant compared to the warmth and closeness you shared.

eventually, jungkook sighed and pulled away, albeit reluctantly. "as much as i'd love to stay here with you forever, we should clean up and get you home."

you nodded, understanding the practicality of his words even though you wished the moment could last longer. "okay."

jungkook helped you off the tattoo chair, both of you moving slowly, savoring the lingering touches and stolen kisses as you gathered your clothes. he was gentle as he helped you dress, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made you want to pull him back into your embrace.

once you were both dressed, jungkook guided you to the small bathroom at the back of the shop. he wet a cloth and began to gently clean the areas of your body that still tingled from his touch. the intimacy of the moment, even in such a simple act, made your heart swell with affection.

"thank you," you said softly, your voice filled with sincerity. "for everything."

he smiled, his eyes locking with yours in a way that made you feel cherished. "anytime, y/n."

with a final, lingering kiss, jungkook finished cleaning up and walked you to the door. the cool night air was a stark contrast to the warmth you felt inside, but you didn't mind. you knew that the bond you had forged tonight was something special, something that would stay with you long after you left the shop.

as you stepped outside, jungkook held your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "call me when you get home, okay? i want to make sure you're safe."

you nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "i will."

he watched as you walked away, his figure a comforting presence behind you. as you made your way home, you felt a sense of peace and fulfilment that you hadn't felt in a long time. the night had been more than just a tattoo session—it had been a new beginning, a step towards a future filled with promise and love.

later that night, as you settled into bed, your mind was filled with thoughts of jungkook, completely forgetting he was waiting for your call.

the intimacy you shared, the way he looked at you, the feeling of his hands on your skin—it all replayed in your mind like a beautiful dream. just as you were about to drift off to sleep, your phone rang, breaking the silence of the room. the screen displayed jungkook's name, and your heart skipped a beat.

you answered the call, trying to keep your voice steady. "hey,"

"hey," he replied, his voice warm and soothing. "i just wanted to make sure you got home safely."

"i did," you said, feeling a rush of warmth at his concern. "thank you for checking."

there was a brief silence, filled with the unspoken feelings hanging between you. finally, jungkook broke the silence. "i can't stop thinking about tonight, about you, y/n."

"me too," you admitted, your voice soft. "thanks for the special treatment."

"it was special," jungkook agreed. "i've wanted to tell you how i feel for so long, but i didn't know if you felt the same way."

"i do," you whispered, your heart pounding. "i feel the same way, jungkook."

he let out a relieved sigh, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "i'm glad to hear that. how about we make this official? can i take you out to dinner tomorrow night?"

your face broke into a wide smile, your excitement bubbling over. "i'd love that."

"great," jungkook said, his voice filled with warmth. "i'll pick you up at seven. sweet dreams, y/n."

"sweet dreams, jungkook," you replied, ending the call with a smile.

the next day was a blur of anticipation and excitement. as the evening approached, you found yourself carefully selecting an outfit, wanting everything to be perfect. when the clock struck seven, a knock on your door made your heart race.

jungkook stood on the other side, looking effortlessly handsome. he greeted you with a bouquet and a shy, endearing smile. "you look beautiful," he said, his eyes filled with admiration.

"thank you," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush with warmth. "you look great too."

the dinner was perfect. the two of you shared stories, laughter, and tender glances across the table. every moment felt charged with electricity, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing second. after dinner, jungkook took you for a walk in a nearby park. the night was clear, the stars twinkling above as you strolled hand in hand.

as you reached a quiet spot, jungkook turned to face you, his expression serious yet tender. "y/n, i meant what i said last night. i'll always be here for you. i want to be with you if you'll have me."

your heart swelled with emotion, and you nodded, tears of happiness brimming in your eyes. "i want to be with you too, jungkook. more than anything."

he pulled you into a gentle embrace, his lips finding yours in a soft, tender kiss. the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in your perfect moment.

the weeks that followed were filled with joy and discovery. jungkook became not only your lover but your confidant and best friend. each moment spent together strengthened your bond, and your love grew stronger with each passing day.

you found yourself spending more and more time at jungkook's apartment, where he would cook for you, and you would talk for hours about everything and nothing. the walls that once seemed to contain just his life now felt like a shared space where your love blossomed.

one evening, as you lay in bed together, jungkook traced patterns on your skin, his touch sending shivers through you. "i've been thinking about something," he said, hesitating.

"what is it?" you asked, turning to face him.

"i want us to move in together," he confessed, his eyes searching yours. "i want you to be a part of my everyday life, not just the special moments. what do you think?"

your heart swelled with joy, and you couldn't stop the smile on your face. "i think i'd love that. more than anything."

moving in together felt like the most natural step in your relationship. you merged your lives seamlessly, finding comfort and joy in the little things—cooking together, late-night talks, and lazy sunday mornings.

one evening, while unpacking the last of your things, you came across an old photo album. sitting on the couch, you and jungkook flipped through the pages, laughing at childhood photos and sharing stories from your pasts. it felt intimate and suitable, a testament to how deeply you trusted each other.

jungkook pulled you close, his eyes filled with love and promise. "we've come a long way, haven't we?"

"we have," you agreed, resting your head on his shoulder. "and i wouldn't change a thing."

as the evening wore on, you found yourselves on the balcony, watching the sunset. jungkook wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. "i can't wait to see what the future holds for us," he murmured.

"me too," you replied, your heart full of love and excitement. "with you by my side, i know it will be amazing."

as you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a deep sense of fulfilment and contentment. the journey began with a simple tattoo, which had transformed into a beautiful love story that would continue to unfold with each passing day.

your past no longer held any power over you; you could embrace a future filled with love, promise, and endless possibilities. together, you and jungkook would face whatever came your way, knowing that your love was strong enough to withstand anything.

as you closed your eyes and leaned into his embrace, you knew this was just the beginning of your happily ever after.

(sorry omg i love this pic sm rn 😭😭😭)

© marvyu 2k24 — please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms: i do not tolerate them at all.

[woodland-gremlin]

Meeting the Kids

Today was the day that Dick’s boyfriend, Danny, would be introducing him to his three kids. He has heard so much about the gremlin trio that he could recite how Danny adopted them and what they are like forwards and backwards in his sleep at this point. And as he fidgeted outside of his boyfriend’s apartment in Fawcett that was exactly what he did.

Ellie is Danny’s biological daughter that was officially put under his guardianship when he was emancipated at 17, but unofficially he has been watching over her for much longer. She is the oldest of the three, being 11. Exploring and causing untold amounts of chaos, usually with her two younger brothers, is her bread and butter in life. Will not hesitate to turn that controlled chaos onto you if you hurt her family, if the stories of what she does to her sperm donor is an indication. Tales of all the places he has traveled when he was in the circus and stress he has caused Bruce at galas are his best bet to not getting pelted with glitter the moment he walks in the door.

Billy is the most recent addition to the family after living on the streets for the last few years. He is the middle child at 10 years old. Being forced into foster care, which is a death sentence according to Jason, and living on the streets, which is apparently better than foster care (again according to Jason), has made him vary of adults. The only reason he trusted Danny enough to be adopted, was through a long campaign of food, a safe place to sleep that he could leave at any time, the other kids, and a few private emotional moments. From the stories he is a sweet kid whose swearing could make a sailor blush. He brought some of Alfred’s homemade food and stories of Jason for him.

Damian was taken in 6 years ago when Danny was 19. His birth family was in a cult, raising him as its heir before trying to sacrifice him to some higher being, when Danny found him. Even with the ruff start he is very in touch with his home country’s culture, Danny even getting in touch with people from his culture to teach the whole family so they can better understand and respect it. He is the youngest of the trio at 9 and loves animals. He has also seemingly inherited Danny’s adoption tendencies when it comes to said animals. He is also the most likely to challenge him to a duel for Danny’s honor, he does it to every potential partner of Danny's, much less one actually dating him. Mentions of Batcow while accepting said duel should help Damian at least tolerate him.

All three of them are the stars of Danny’s life. Dick has heard all about the bullshit Danny gets for being a father of three, two which are in the double digits, at 25 and how protective the Nightingale family is of each other. And that isn’t even counting his older sister, who he has met over the phone, and all the others claimed extended family. How often Danny has broken up with his partners over the kids or said kids driving out those partners if they didn’t think that they were good enough for their dad. So, no Jason, he wasn’t being paranoid, considering that they ran the last one out in tears, covered in neon, biodegradable glitter and paint, he was being practical!

What Dick did not know was that as he was panicking and making plans the gremlin trio was making their own plans. Plans of his demise.

[monamipencil]

— (s)exercise | ft. aerobics instructor! soonyoung

⋆ pairings; soonyoung x fem! reader ⋆ genre; smut, crack, fluff ⋆ w.c; 3.4k+ ⋆ warnings; aerobics instructor! soonyoung, pseudo cheating (no cheating actually occurs, it'll make sense i promise), raw sex, creampie, oral (f. receiving), he gets cross-eyed at the sight of tits, multiple positions and multiple orgasms, lots of cursing, they're down bad for each other, he yaps and she listens, talks of kinks in public lmao, mentions of exhibitionism and roleplaying and i have no idea abt aerobics actually :) ⋆ a/n; first soonyoung smut and if u saw this post before, no you didn't (tumblr hates me). minors do not interact.

You check your phone for the address and look at the floor sign. Second floor. Shoving the gadget inside your duffle bag, you shuffle around, looking around for your class. At the end of the floor, a few neon lights flashing aerobics catch your attention. 

You jog towards the door and push it open. To your relief, a few people have already gathered in the room. Strolling the room, you settle down your bag and remove your jacket. 

The room is everything you expect from an aerobics classroom. Well-lit with mirror-covered walls. A platform is at the front of the room, slightly elevated compared to the floor. 

Aerobics doesn’t fall under your general list of interests. The only reason you find yourself here is because of your boyfriend, who suggested this class because he was interested and wanted you to take it up as well. Truth be told, you’re looking forward to this as well. The myriad of benefits root your interest. But your boyfriend’s interest tops everything else. 

A chorus of greetings echoes through the room, and you notice the new arrival. You jog towards the crowd and stand somewhere in the second row. 

And then, you notice him. 

Upturned eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. The most perfect pair of lips stretched into a grin. The white tank top he's adorning displays his strong shoulders and toned arms. He’s beautiful. You force yourself to keep your eyes on his face. 

He looks around the room with a small smile. Your heart skips a beat when his eyes find yours. You smile at him, and he nods, grinning at you. 

“Good evening, everyone. I'm your instructor Soonyoung for beginner classes. I hope you all have a good time here.” He claps, and the women and men around you cheer. 

You're unable to take your eyes off him, drawn by his allure. Before you know it, the class starts, and upbeat techno music fills the room. 

He stands on the platform, starting off with a few stretches. Shoulder stretch, toe touch, side bend, hip rotations. His back faces the class, and he monitors through the mirror. Your heart beats wildly against your rib cage each time you lock eyes with him.

You huff a short breath, following through the exercises. The warm feeling never leaves your chest, and your knees grow weak each time he looks at you. 

Soonyoung is facing the class now. His toned body, drugged with adrenaline, moves effortlessly to the music. You remind yourself to keep your body moving instead of gawking at him. 

Sweat mats his hair to his forehead. A gentle shade of pink settles on his skin, but he doesn’t look tired. Ardor seeps from him, causing you to keep up with his moves. 

Once again, his eyes land on yours. But this time, he lingers longer. You dare to hold eye contact as you mirror his movements. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, and your heart hammers inside your chest. He shifts his eyes towards the others. 

Stray hair sticks to the side of your face, and sweat gathers at your back. But you could care less about everything else now. The room is sweltering, though you don’t know whether to chalk it up to the exercise or your very hot instructor. 

“Alright! 1, 2, 3!” his raspy voice booms as he switches to another move. This involves jumping, and you can't help but ogle his perfect muscles each time his shirt rides up. 

Unbeknownst to you, Soonyoung observes you. More specifically, your eye placement. A smirk graces his lips, but he doesn’t let his gaze linger too long. He tries his best to not let his eyes dip down. 

And so the class continues. 

You get stuck during some moves, and embarrassment crawls on your skin when he double-checks if you are ok. Even through the crowd of bodies, his eyes always find yours somehow. And maybe you are imagining it, but you swear his eyes dipped down to your chest. 

With warmth pooling in your stomach, you try to get through the class. You stare at him. He stares back and smiles. 

“Hi,”

Startled by the sudden presence, you almost spit out the water in your mouth. You manage to swallow it, trickles of the fluid flowing down your chin to your neck. Soonyoung follows the water drop till it reaches your cleavage, disappearing behind your tank top.

“Oh, hi!” you chirp with unfiltered joy but with much regret you bite your tongue right after. He flashes you a grin and steps closer to you, “So, liked the class?”

You nod your head, “Yep! I'm considering to continue here.”

His grin only widens, cheeks puffing up in the most adorable manner. If it weren't for his toned biceps and pecs peeking out through his tank top, you would've paid his cute face more attention.

The other attendees are trickling out of the studio, too immersed in their conversations which reminds you to take off as well. You grab your duffle bag, and flash your hot instructor a small smile.

You open your mouth to bid your goodbye when he cuts you off, “You can stop acting, you know?”

Confused by his statement, you blink and stare at him. All while he tongues his cheek, and leans closer towards you. Your lungs heave, intimated by his proximity.

He takes a step closer and you, a step back. So it goes, till your back hits the wall and he closes the distance between you, pressing his body against yours.

“Soonyoung, we shouldn't do this” you whisper. Yet arousal floods your veins and his body heat wafts to your sweltering skin. With a gulp, you look into his eyes. He moves closer and you tighten your legs together.

A yelp escapes your lips when tugs you to him, enveloping your body with his arms. His muscles press against your body through the material of shirt. His defined arms feel so right around you. And you can't help but drown in his eyes.

His hands drift down, taking purchase on your ass. He kneads them in his hands, pushing you further into his embrace. You give in, wrapping your arms around his neck and connecting your lips to his.

Soonyoung moans at the contact and wastes no time in kissing you back. His tongue darts past your teeth, gliding over yours. The heat of his mouth is a much welcomed one and you feel yourself growing hotter with each passing second.

Your arousal travels down south, making your cunt throb with need and dripping down your folds. Your panties stick to you like second skin, adding to your heightened feelings.

“Soonyoung, someone might walk—”

“Yeah, fuck.” He pulls back, chest heaving with each breath he forces in.

He takes a moment to compose himself before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and guiding you to the door. You grab your bag in a hurry and follow him. But he stops right before and says, “Locker.”

With a chaste kiss to your cheek, he jogs out to the destination. You wait for a few seconds before leaving as well, following your instructor who's a few steps ahead of you.

You barely make it to the door that reads staff only, before you're pulled into the room with a force that knocks breath off your lungs. His hands are all over you again and he kisses your neck and travels up to your lips.

Your lips connect once again. You cherish the softness of his lips and the warmth of his tongue. But it doesn't reach the intensity of the previous one as he reduces them to pecks and pulls away.

Soonyoung locks the door and pulls you further into the locker room. Your eyes dart all over the new space, taking in the silver lockers and the wooden benches. It's well-kept and neat with the smell of some cheap air freshener.

You don't mind it though. Why would you even spare anything else a thought when your hot instructor stands in front of you, removing his barrier of a top?

You take a moment to appreciate the fine specimen standing before you. His abs glisten under the studio lights, giving him a god-like image. He looks like a fucking Greek god.

“Done gawking?” The corner of his lips tug up, smug lining them. His eyes are way darker than what you observed at the start of the class. Lust swirls through his irises, and the thoughts behind them seem to tread nowhere near innocence.

“Come on, give me something to stare at too.”

You scoff and give him what he wants, removing your tank top to expose your breasts, still hindered by the sports bra. His eyes are fixated on them, silently begging you to take it off as well.

The bra comes undone, landing on the floor soundlessly. And, he's on you, like a fiend out for blood. His hands cup your breast, thumbing your pebbled nipples. He pinches and tugs on them, inflicting you with the right mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Fuck, come here.”

He settles down on one of the wooden benches in the middle and tugs you down to perch on his lap. This position gives him the liberty of being face to face with your tits. And he's already cross-eyed at the prospect of having his lips around them.

He does just that, kissing the flesh of your breast before taking one nipple into his mouth. He moans as soon as his tongue greets your sensitive skin, licking all around it. He sucks with a fervor that makes your pussy throb and clench around nothing.

Soonyoung moves to the other one, doing the same but this time, he toys with your other nipple. He flicks the bud with his tongue, and circles the areola. He finishes with a loud pop, looking at the mess he created with a cheeky smile.

You shudder, trying to catch your breath. His dazed visage and hung open mouth prompts you to kiss him. His hands skate up the naked skin of your back, waking goosebumps as he does so. Sweat prickles your skin and your core swelters with an insatiable need. He takes your breath away with his kiss as well breaths life down your lungs.

Something poking your thigh shifts your attention. Fucking hell, did he just throb?

You don't hesitate to wrap your fingers around his clothed cock. It causes him to hiss and whine immediately, hips bucking into your hand for attention. A chuckle slips past your lips and you eye his face, contorting in ecstasy, though you've barely done anything.

Hooking a finger under his waistband, you pull his boxers and tracks down to his thighs. “Shit—” he sounds like he's about to cry. A smirk lines your lips.

You slowly wrap your hand around his length, giving it a few experimental pumps. A plethora of curses fly from his lips, prompting you to thumb his tip. And, just like you had predicted, he gasps and cries out loud when you tease his slit.

As much as you'd like to tease him further, you're way too horny and pent-up. You get up, pulling his tracks down further and let it pool down on the floor. He kicks them off completely before purchasing his hands on your hips.

Wide, lust filled eyes stare up at you. He kisses the exposed skin on your abdomen before pulling down your tights. You help him get rid of it and without any warning, he presses his thumb on your folds. The pads of his fingers rub on the ruined cloth, occasionally grazing your clit.

Soonyoung strips you bare, tossing your panty to rest of the clothes. He kneels on the floor and kisses your mound before traveling further to your core. He tongues your folds, sucking and slurping on your clenching hole before shifting his attention to your clit.

He fixates there, sucking on your little nub with everything he's got. Wanton moans fill the locker room as he flicks his tongue on the bundle. You card your hand through his hair and force him further into your cunt.

Hiking a leg up on the wooden bench, you give him better access to your needy core. “Fuck, wanted to do this the moment you stepped into the studio,” warm breath wafts against your cunt as he mutters, drunk on your essence.

His tongue explores your folds again. He pushes out his tongue and moves his head up and down to lick stripes on your cunt. The brush of his nose against your clit makes you gasp and ride his face as you hold his head still.

He doesn't mutter a word, opting to obey your wishes while you use him for your pleasure. You grind your hips on his tongue, desperately seeking a release. He moves his head in sync with your hips, licking all over your cunt and your hole.

You grow breathless and pace up your speed. Wetting two of your fingers, you bring them down to rub your clit while grinding on his tongue.

Soonyoung leaves imprints on your thighs with his nails, forming moon-shaped marks. You look fucking divine in his eyes right now, and he can only focus on your shut eyes and your lips that form the perfect ‘o-shape.’

Your orgasm washes over you with a shudder and a gasp, “shit.”

Your hips buck into his tongue and your legs quiver, the strength leaving your body slowly. He licks up all your juices before sitting on the bench and pulling you onto his lap.

His cock prods your core, throbbing and oozing with precum. You hold onto his strong shoulders as he rubs the tip on your folds, mixing your fluids together.

“Soonyoung,” you whine and push your tits on his face. He mutters a curse, and pushes his tip in. He slips in with no effort, thanks to how soaked you are. His perfect cock, sitting snugly inside you now.

“Fuck, you're throbbing.”

You bury your head in the crook of his neck, trying not to lose it. He shifts under you, finding a more comfortable position. Curling your arms around his broad shoulders, you press your lips to his in a soft kiss.

You press your chest to his, feeling the searing heat of skin on yours. His hands skate down your back to your ass. He gropes and squeezes them, kneading the flesh.

“Ah—shit, stop clenching.”

Without any warning, he thrusts. It catches you off guard, prying a loud moan from your chest. “Oh fuck, yes!”

“You sound so pretty,” he whines, moving his hips up and down. He drives his cock into you cunt with a pace that gets your mind all fuzzy.

You meet his hips halfway, bouncing up and down on his cock. Your moans sync and the sound of skins slapping fills the locker room. His cock fits snugly between your gummy walls, hitting all the right spots. Your arousal drips down his cock, forming a creamy ring around his base.

While you're drunk on his cock, Soonyoung is entranced by your tits as you bounce on his cock. He wraps his lips around your nipple, savoring how it feels in his mouth. The flicking of his tongue makes you curse and moan his name.

Suddenly, he stops his movement and pulls out. Confused by what he's doing, you quietly observe him. Standing up, he gently pushes you to the locker. The cold metal bites your skin, providing your searing skin some relief.

“Wrap your leg around me,” he mutters, already pulling your leg up to his hips. You do as he asks, wrapping it around his hips while the other stays planted on the ground.

He guides his cock into your cunt again, filling you to the brim. He rubs your clit while thrusting sloppily. You can't help the moans that escape you. He just knows how to make your body writhe in pleasure. His other hand holds your leg as he thrust lazily.

Your moans egg him on and your lower lip tucked between your teeth drives him absolutely crazy. He picks up his pace, driving his cock into your cunt like a wild animal. That paired with his harsh rubs on your clit makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Oh, fuck fuck fuck.”

Your nails dig into his back, as you try to keep yourself grounded. But it's in vain with him moving his hips with expertise and god, his fucking hand on your clit is driving you insane. Your stomach tightens with another impending orgasm. He knows how to make you cum too.

You clench around his length wildly, bringing his climax nearer as well. It hits you sooner than you expect and absolutely drives you off the cliff. Your legs quiver and so does you body, shaking with the intensity of the release.  

Soonyoung fucks you through your high, chasing his own. It doesn't take much time for his cock to throb, spilling ropes of cum inside your cunt. He ceases his movements, breathless and quivering.

He embraces you, resting his head on your shoulder. You comb your hand through his soft locks while trying to catch your own breath.

“Ugh, we need to hit the showers.”

You come back from the shower, changed into new clothes when you notice Soonyoung cleaning the benches and the floor. You feel bad but also can't help the chuckle that escapes you.

The sound makes him stop his cleaning, eyes snapping to you. Your hot, sexy instructor is now replaced by your flushed and tired boyfriend.

He discards the cleaning gloves and rag somewhere and cleans his hands before approaching you. He flashes a grin at you and pinches your cheek, followed by the loud smack of his lips on it.

“So? how was my class? Am I a good teacher?”

“Yeah, it was good. You were good. For both teaching and fucking by the way.”

He giggles, and pulls you into a tight hug. “I love you so much. And are you really considering to continue?”

“I love you too and yes. I found a new hobby,” His grin widens, pink dusting his cheeks.

“Not just aerobics but I also found torturing you very joyous.”

He stops smiling, lips tugging down. You can already hear the whine from miles away.

A whine escapes his lips causing you to smile and laugh. “Stop laughing! I literally would've cum untouched just by looking at you in that fit.”

You pat his head and move to take your duffle bag. He follows behind you, stopping his rant for a second to retrieve his bag as well. Only for a second though.

“Also? where are the staff in this building? I thought we'd get caught multiple times.” You ask, genuinely confused by the lack of souls wandering the studio.

“Slow fridays. The other studios are closed for the weekend except for the gym.” He explains, “and is that another kink of yours? getting caught?”

“You wish.”

“I actually discovered something.” He informs, eyes refusing to look at yours. A shy visage takes over his face and you wonder why he's acting like that. You hum, telling him to go on. 

“I almost creamed myself when you acted like you didn't know me.” Confusion takes over and you stop in your tracks to look at him, incredulously.

“Do you have an abandonment kink or something?” 

“What? No! like—you acted like we were strangers and we were doing something sinful. I'm pretty sure you even said that you had a boyfriend and that you shouldn't cheat him.”

You laugh at his statement and continue walking out of the building with him following you. “First of all, I never said that. Second, I think you like roleplaying.”

It's like a bulb lighted up above his head when you say that and he's struck in realisation for a few seconds. “But roleplay...” his voice dwindles down, realizing it's not the best to talk about kinks loudly in a crowded street.

He clears his throat, and continues in a much lower voice. “Isn't roleplay like dressing up?”

“Yes,” you affirm, “But also like scenarios. Say for example, I can roleplay as the next door milf and you, the horny bachelor.”

“Fuck, can we do that?”

Laughter booms from your chest and you raise your hand to hit his chest. But in the process, your hand grazes his crotch and he's hard.

You both look down at the newcomer. “I think we better get home fast, or we might be exploring your exhibitionism kink as well.”

[star-suh]

Scream

Choi San x Male Reader

cw: top ghostface san, sadist undertones, degradation, dubcon, drunk-ish encounter at first, knife play, anonymous sex?, some edging, handjob, blood play, blowjob, cum eating, breeding, manhandling, nipple play, ripped clothes, choking, semi-public sex, bareback, san is mean to the reader.

an: i think this is way darker than what i usually write ngl bcs i don’t know what happened in my mind when i thought about the knife part.

also this is the last halloween special fic, enjoy!! 🎃

it’s halloween week and the murders attributed to ghostface haven’t stopped, it doesn’t help at all that somehow everyone has taken a liking in dressing as him, costume stores ran out of black capes and ghostface masks. “what’s wrong with people?” yn mutters to his friend wooyoung, “i don’t know, maybe it’s the idea of a sexy hot dude under all those clothes” he tries to reason, “yeah but if they all disguise as him it would be difficult to know who’s the real murderer” yn adds. wooyoung shrugs “dumbasses for real”.

“are you going to tonight’s party at my fraternity?” wooyoung asks his friend, “i would feel better if i can keep an eye close to you, you know, i don’t want you to be in the newspaper tomorrow” the joke makes them both laugh “you stupid” yn smacks him lightly on the shoulder “ok i’ll go. but first i have to choose a costume” he says, eyeing his phone. “you could just go naked and say you are a slut, it would be fun. best costume of the night if you ask me” wooyoung blurted out, “shush, i don’t want you to fuck me with your eyes” yn puts his hand on top of the other’s face, covering his eyes and pushing his face away from him “nasty woo”.

store after store yn tried to find a cool costume but it seems that all they sell now is the ghostface one, “why is he so popular” yn speaks to the air, “sigh… i guess i’ll just go disguised as a frat boy” he grabs his phone from his pocket and dial a known number, “hey woo can you lend me your jacket, i’ll go as a frat boy”, “sure bro” woo affirms, “just don’t be late”.

loud music, flashing lights and neon signs decorated the venue, the fraternity house was full with people, a perfect place for a murderer some might say, but they don’t seem to care. “ok here i go” yn takes a deep breath and walks closer to the entrance. man doesn’t like to go to parties, they feel like they drown all his energy but he’s doing it to not worry his dear friend. “you came” wooyoung runs towards yn and hugs him, offering him a cup of liquor he is holding in one of his hands, “yeah…” yn laughs awkwardly while looking around, spotting all the ghostfaces in there, but one in particularly caught his attention. he was standing next to the stairs, he was not moving at all as if he was a statue, but yn could feel his gaze piercing into him, that sensation when someone stares at you but multiplied like 50 times, it was creeping him out.

“umm.. wooyoung?” yn turns around to seek his friend but he wasn’t there anymore, now he looks back at the creepy man and he wasn’t there either, “calm down yn haha you just need to relax, that’s right, just relax” he talks to himself while grabbing a cup of liquor and chugging it all at once. hours passed and yn seems to have forgotten about the creepy dude, thanks to the alcohol in his system. he starts to explore the house, visiting every room on the first floor and now going upstairs, not noticing that from afar someone’s been watching him. “is this woo’s room?” he says feeling tipsy and opened the door, there were two couples in there fucking, thanks to the music they didn’t hear the door opening so yn quietly closed it. his face red in embarrassment and a little tent forming on his pants, “what the fuck” he tries to cover his growing bulge and went running to another room sitting on the bed there. the alcohol didn’t help to cover his hard dick, it was aching, it needed to be liberated from that clothed prison. letting himself get carried away by the pleasure he pulls up his white shirt, biting the hem so it doesn’t get stained when he cums. he tugs his pants down along with his briefs and starts to stroke it, spitting some saliva on his hand to coat his dick with it. he throws his head back, grunting and whimpering in pleasure when suddenly his strokes stopped, but it wasn’t for him, he felt someone else’s hand so he quickly tries to get away from whoever is doing ir, when he looks up a man with a ghostface costume was there, continuing the handjob. “let go please” yn’s body squirmed, the other guy was stroking him but with more pressure. “pleassee” he slurred, his thighs pressing together to try and hide his dick. his dick was getting dry because the anon guy wiped the precum off of his tip with his thumb, yn sees how the man lifts up his mask a bit and a thread of spit falls on top of his tip, he uses it to lubed it and strokes it faster and harder. “hngh wait. slo-slowly. ahhh” a deep voice then suddenly speaks, “okay” and he stops.

next thing yn knew is that his bottom half was completely naked, his dick, balls and ass in full display for the other pervert to see, “you told me to stop but your body is betraying you” his dick and hole throbbing for the thrill, the unexpected pleasure an anonymous guy was giving him, “that’s not-” yn was cut out when the masked man introduced his index finger on his hole. the ring of muscles gripping on it, yn’s hips moved on his own signaling he was close to his climax but ghostface stopped pulling his finger away of the hungry hole, “you will only cum when i say so” he pulls out a knife and scrape the cold metal against yn’s tigh catching him off guard. “what the f-” he was about to scream but then man acted fast enough to cover his mouth, “scream and i’ll gut you while you’re conscious” the sharp blade sliding gently in between his thigh, a fine line of blood coming out of it. he lifts his mask once again showing his creepy yet perfect smile, his wet tongue licking the blood out of the recently made wound, “amuse me tonight and maybe i won’t kill you tonight. think about it you could be the savior of these stupid people, no murders tonight and maybe tomorrow all you have to do is be my slut” the creepy yet sexy smirk on his face would haunt yn from now on. the hand on yn’s mouth slowly undiscovered it and he started to put his fingers inside yn’s mouth and then same on his hole again with the other half, “look at you accepting to be a murderer’s sex toy. you don’t have an ounce of self-respect, do you?”, yn started to cry thinking how low he’s gone now but those thoughts were suddenly replaced by ones with pleasure when four digits entered his ass with the middle one brushing his prostate every time it goes in, “fuck you” yn muttered, with the other’s thumb still inside his mouth, that is now covered in spit. yn’s hole was already so stretched that ghostface’s four fingers entered so easily so he decided to try something thicker. something cold entered inside yn, he lifts himself up to see what was it, he was shocked after realize the murderer was fucking him with the knife handle, “you’re fucking crazy, pull that out of me” with a swift motion yn moved backwards managing to pull it out, “what a pussy” the masked man purred, he stands up grabbing yn by the hips and pulling him closer, “you’re getting on my fucking nerves” that fucking sexy deep voice spoke, he lifts his black cape showing he was only wearing a pair of jeans under it, his torso completely naked showing yn how ripped he was. “fucking looser” he unzips his pants and pulls out his shaft, covering it in his spit and ramming himself inside yn with no mercy, the latter crying out loud feeling his prostate being abused by the other’s veiny fat cock.

his shaft stretched his walls to the max, yn would swear he would not be able to walk after this at least for a week, this provokes that yn mutter curses towards the masked murderer that went unnoticed by the top, whose growls and moans didn’t let him catch clearly what the other was saying, he just chased his own pleasure now.

ghostface grabbed yn by the neck and made him turn around fucking him doggy style, with his hands around the other’s neck to squeeze occasionally, he loves how yn’s grips so hard onto his dick when the oxygen starts to lack on his brain, truly a psycho. grabbing him by his neck, ghostface pulls yn closer towards him, his back against his toned muscles and heaving chest. he starts to explore under yn’s shirt, playing with his nipples, pinching them “nice tits manwhore” ghostface praises and immediately rips his shirt apart leaving him now completely naked, the cold air making yn’s skin crawl, “bet you like being used like this, just a human fleshlight for everyone to dump their spunk on you”. “noo” yn refuted, “i’m not like that”. ghostface keeps plowing yn continuously, his hole already sore and agape with droplets of cum coming out of it, yn has already lost count how many times ghostface has came inside him but that pleasure was always denied to him with the other stopping the fucking or straight up threatening him with the knife. “guess that’s enough for today” he says as the last drop of cum is spurted inside yn. he then turns yn around to see how fucked up he was and glorify himself for it, then he notices the red aching cock begging for release so in what could seem his first act of pity he lifts his mask once again and suck him off, his sexy lips going up and down while his tongue is swirling around the tip and underside of yn’s shaft. ‘shit! he’s skilled in sucking dick’ yn thought, cumming not long after a few more sloppy sucks, flooding ghostface’s throat with thick spunk. yn was tired after all that fucking session but right before falling asleep he catches a glimpse of ghostface swallowing his cum and smirking at him, “sleep well tonight bitch boy, after all you should be proud of how you avoided more murders tonight by just being a cumrag”. he puts his shaft back again in his pants, covered his naked torso with the black cape and pulls down his mask, leaving the room.

“you fucked with the murderer” wooyoung yelled, “shut the fuck up woo, my head hurts” yn said hiding his face from the morning sun, “he even threatened me with a knife, and made a superficial cut on my thigh”, “that’s creepy bro, but i’m grateful you’re okay now” woo took a sip of his iced coffee. “yeah i’m okay, but my ass hurts like hell man”. as they left the restaurant, near the exit was a man reading a newspaper that says “no victims last night, is ghostface taking a break?”

[hwajin]

!# — scented candles | bcn

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: chan x inexperienced!fem!reader

wc: 3.2k

warnings: oral (f receiving)

author's note: this is both a request and part of the inexperienced series ( @whatudowhennooneseesyou )!! hope you enjoy <3

Distant sounds of your long-nailed fingers tapping against the keyboard of your laptop sounded through Chan's small dorm room, your knuckles aching from the time you've spent behind the device. It smelt of honeyed vanilla, thanks to the scented candle you had gifted him to your one month anniversary — you fondly remember that Chan hadn't had a present for you back then because he'd never celebrated monthly anniversaries with pervious girlfriends, and how enamoured he had been by your small present. He didn't dare light the candle by himself — it only ever burnt when you visited him, when it was the two of you in his college dorm room, not him in lonesome.

It was long past sunset, the only light in the room the soft glow of the candle, the static hue of your laptop and the endless reds and blues and neons of the city outside the small window. You always preferred Chan's room to your own — his view was far prettier, overlooking the entire city you had both moved to for your studies, which was the reason you had met altogether. A city so small, so mundane. Yet it held your entire fate.

You weren't much noticing the sound of your typing, or the faint chords of a long repeating playlist somewhere in the back — you also weren't much noticing Chan shifting in bed next to you tirelessly, from left to right and back. He knew not to distract you in his studies — it was the very thing he had noticed first about you after all, the very first thing he fell in love with.

You had sat in the library, brows furrowed, thick glasses sitting low on your nose. He had almost tripped over his feet, had been clumsy right in front of the table you had sat at. When you had looked up at him, shifting up your glasses with a gentle movement of the finger, and had asked if he was fine, he had been done for. He had nodded, had shamelessly asked for your number. Chan had giggled over your confused face — as though asking for your contact was something entirely unfathomable. You had been confused, but had handed him your phone so he could save in his contact; ever since then you hadn't left each others' side.

Chan knew not to distract you in your studies, but you had sat behind your laptop ever since the sun had sat high on the sky — he ought to make you take a break by now, surely. Not only because he was bored out of his senses in the bed behind it, and not because staring at you from the side became tortureous. It had been hours, and he could only eye your barely covered body so much. It was hot, and he didn't blame you for your decision in clothing — a flimsy tank top, and old shorts you surely didn't choose purposefully, not to drive him crazy, simply to flee the hot weather. But every fibre of his body was fixated on you — on the way your thighs spilled over in the short pants, the way the plush flesh rested on the old dorm room chair. He was fixated on the way your chest curved in the tight top, the way the soft flesh of your arms moved with every of your move, whenever you typed yet another sentence into your Word document. The way your breasts moved whenever you did — the lack of a bra causing them to float like water, your nipples perking up beneath the fabric, subtle and everything but intentional, was all Chan needed to have his insides heat up, for a soft sheen of sweat to cover his palms and the skin of his forehead.

And he couldn't do anything but stare. He couldn't say he put in the same effort into his education as you did — he was hard-working and passionate, but in different aspects than you. He never much stayed in class longer than he needed to, didn't know any professor by name. There were days he'd skip classes altogether; though you influenced him far more than he did you, and guilt made him drag himself to college more times than not.

He could only stare, and let you work, because he knew like no one else the urge to finish assignments when it was long past either of your bed times. He could only stare — but he could also do something against the growing, urging fire in his chest. The one igniting with every further second he looked at you, kept his eyes on your figure. He ought to make you take a break, because it was far too late to be working, and because you would have long dragged him off the table as well, if he was the one behind it. He ought to; surely, for your wellbeing. Not because of the tightening in his chest, not because of the arousal coursing his body the further your glasses slid down your nose — not at all, he would never be so selfish.

Chan stood from the bed, stretching in the process — his legs were almost numb, having lay next to you for seeming hours on end, without much occupation. You had proposed throwing on a movie just so it would run, had asked if you should study in your own dorm room altogether, so Chan could do whatever he pleased to do. Though the man had shook his head; he had been, much to your bashful surprise, perfectly happy simply watching you study. He had laughed when you had grown shy over it, but had accepted it nonetheless.

Yet boredom had struck the man eventually; it was less boredom than it was infatuation, sudden and primal, though the outcome was all the same — he stood behind where you were sitting, peering over your shoulder to read the essay you were writing. Your fingers were working fast, your hair smelt of vanilla and honey, and Chan could feel the warmth your body emitted; he was a goner.

You hadn't paid him any notice, so when his hands draped softly over your shoulders you jumped, making the man scoff out in amusement.

"You definitely need a break if you didn't even notice me standing behind you, babe.", he chuckled, voice soft and undisturbing of the silence of the night. He started massaging your shoulders, the pads of his thumbs caressing the knots beneath your skin well enough you let out a quiet moan, which got the man hard, instantly. He had never heard this sound from you. He would do anything to hear it again.

You stretched out your tired arms, cracked your knuckles. You raked your head to catch a glimpse of your boyfriend standing behind you, messy hair and sleepy eyes, a soft smile plastered on his lips. You sighed. He looked so inviting, screaming of comfort and warmth, of relaxation — but your essay wasn't even half-finished, and the deadline for it came nearer day by day. Ever since you had started dating Chan there had been moments you wished for your perfectionism to vanish — it would allow you more time with your boyfriend, and wouldn't take so much a toll on your nerves, atop that.

You looked back at your laptop screen, the filled Word document staring back at you.

"I can't take a break yet, I planned to finish this chapter by today." You looked back again, adjusting your glasses, a playfully stern look in your eyes. You raised your pointer finger, scrunched your brows. "I'm running on a strict schedule here. Don't you dare distract me."

Your eyes were back on your screen, and while Chan was busy laughing at your joke, he understood that it wasn't truly one — you were already back to writing on your paper, ignoring him entirely again. His palms still lay flat on your skin, warm against him, soft. He squeezed at your shoulders, massaged where you've held most tension; you moaned out again, quiet and shy, and stretched out your neck; yet your eyes were glued to your laptop.

Chan lowered his head to your level, planting one kiss to your temple; he ought to take different manners into account, if a simple massage didn't work it.

You hummed when another kiss met your skin, on the bit behind your ear, and another on your ear. You giggled then, when his breath fanned over your neck before a feather-light kiss met it right after, tickling in its' touch. You felt Chan's hands on your shoulders still, easing the knots in your muscles, succeeding in relaxing you with only a few simple touches.

"Babe...", you breathed out, lulling your head to your side, to allow the man more space on your neck. His mouth was making a slow journey further down your neck, kissing every inch before moving on.

"...what are you doing..."

Your voice breathless, and he hadn't even done much; though it didn't take much with him, ever. It needed a touch, a kiss, and he made you feel like never before. You both had never been this intimate before; and though you shied away from it out of pure reflex, your body ached for it, after all.

“Just helping you relax.”, Chan mumbled into your neck, tickling you, and you couldn’t help but giggle. The vibrations of it coursed his veins, and your vanilla scent body-wash intoxicated his senses. You were all around him, taking him hostage with your scent, with your touch, with the sounds of your laughter. His lips disconnected from your skin, and he looked up at you, waiting for you to rake your neck, to reciprocate his gaze. When you did, he planted a quick kiss to the mould between your neck and shoulder, and you blinked slowly, basked in the feeling of his lips on your body.

“Can I?”

His hands lowered themselves on your body, and you knew your boyfriend wasn’t asking to continue the kissing and nibbling on your neck – you knew he was asking for more. Your brows furrowed, in worried anticipation and nervous excitement; but you nodded. You couldn’t not, if the heat between your legs grew with every passing second, when Chan’s mouth, warm and wet and plush tickled so sweetly against your skin; you wondered how much better he could yet make you feel, if you only let him. If you only opened up to him entirely.

The man smiled into the crook of your neck, and gave you another kiss. Long, taking his time; and with one swift motion, he positioned himself between your legs. You have almost not noticed it happening, and were shy now that he kneeled before you, not levelled yet with your sex, but so much closer to it than ever before; it got you wetter, it got you giddy.

Chan saw the look on your face, your worrying eyes, your tense shoulders; he also saw how your thighs rubbed together subtly, how your chest flushed red, how your breath staggered. Cute. He sat up on his heels, almost meeting your eye. He granted you a soft smile, and you eased up to him.

“You just need to relax, I’ll take care of you… will you let me?”

His hands lay by the side of your thighs, his eyes kind, holding your gaze with a hope and excitement so pure you huffed out a breath of relief, and nodded at him. A quiet, soft “Yeah.” left your lips and you palmed his cheek, making Chan tend to your touch; feeling him against your skin eased your nervosity, reminded you of his devotion.

And he started kissing your body. Slow, unhurriedly; he was taking his time. He lifted your shirt a little, so his thumb grazed over the skin of your waist while his lips planted feather-light kisses against the mound of your chest. You hitched a breath; all senses were focused on him. You felt the heat of his body against your own, his callused fingers on your curves, dancing atop them and drawing mindless shapes, his lips sucking and painting your skin in colours of soft blues and reds.

He kissed your stomach. He lifted your tank top with a sheepish grin, waiting for your approval — when you gave it his lips were on you, wet kisses on hot skin. Your fingers tangled in his hair. Your core was burning, and it felt far too early to throw your head back in pleasure, to moan out his name; you knew it was, you knew Chan yet hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary; but you did, nonetheless, couldn’t hold back the small whine which left your throat in anticipation. You felt Chan smile at that against you; somehow that got you wetter.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts. He stayed there for a moment, looking up at you again; he waited for your permission after every inch he travelled on your body, and you gave it. Chan discarded your pants with a swift motion, along with your underwear. You had never sat this bare before him, never saw his eyes so very dark, his pupils so very dilated; his demeanour so very carnal.

And you were burning. Your core was, burning and wet, and you wondered if you dripped onto the chair you sat on. You watched Chan kiss your thighs, you watched him spread your legs, you watched him dive into you, only to further nibble on your inner plush — he was taking his time, but your patience was running out. You enjoyed the feeling of his wet mouth on your skin, on parts so sensitive you weren’t aware yourself; but you sex needed him, it needed his touch.

“Babe...” Your voice whiny, high-pitched; you blushed at it, hadn’t expected to be capable of such sounds. And that’s how Chan eyed you, too, from beneath; his eyes widened, his ears painted a red so bright it shone, and a soft groan vibrated against your body. Were you having the same effect on him than it was the other way around? You almost doubted it, until you caught glimpse of Chan’s erection when he leaned back a bit.

“What is it?”

His voice almost concerned, and you stuttered suddenly; how were you to ask what you wanted? Were you too desperate, begging for him when it was only the first time you’ve been so close to intimacy? You looked at him, eyes wanting, pleading, though you couldn’t find the words. His gaze softened, his hands against your thighs, too.

“You can tell me what you want, don’t be scared.”, he whispered, and something in your abdomen tingled. You grew wetter.

“I want more.”

A whisper, too, and shy, embarrassed, almost; though not for long. Because Chan mumbled a breathy “Fuck.”, and dove into you. His hands spread open your legs, finger digging into your flesh, and you felt his breath against your pussy, suddenly; so sudden you whimpered out quietly, and the sound turned into a loud moan when you felt his tongue on your slit.

It was heaven, it was far better than what you had expected. It was far better, even, than what your own fingers did on sleepless, tireless nights. The feeling of his wet tongue against your wetter cunt made you arch into him, and you couldn’t be shy about it, not anymore. Not when his hands gripped onto your body, snuck around your thighs and holding you in place, or simply closer, or for no reason altogether.

You felt his tongue against your clit, circling there experimentally, staying there when your head threw back and a groan so throaty left you he pulled you closer by your legs.

And he wasn’t quiet, either. Every of his sound, breathy and quiet sighs, low and deep groans vibrated against you, sounded against your core and resonated in your entire body. You vibrated with him, trembled, shook, ached for more. Your fingers in his hair, your palm against his scalp made you push him into you further; it was an instinct, carnal and unexpected, and you grew the very second after. When you felt his tongue against your clit, suddenly, when you felt a throaty chuckle against you; you backed away again, against the chair.

And his eyes spoke more than words. When you looked at him again, curious, when you watched him lap up your wetness with a thick tongue against your entrance and up to your clit, his eyes told you that it was okay. That your pleasure was, that your instincts were; that he would comply for whatever you wanted, whatever you wished for.

Yet you only watched him, because it was a sight you couldn’t possibly miss. His eyes glassy, his mouth wet, covered in your essence. You could smell yourself now, too, and your eyes dared to roll into the back of your head. It was everything, and too much; and you almost dreaded the feeling of tightness in the pit of your stomach. The first feelings of release, the tingling and turning and twisting somewhere between your stomach and your core. You dreaded it, because you wanted to feel Chan longer. You wanted to watch him further, circling the tip of his tongue against you, moaning when he lapped at the wetness by your entrance, when he played there, when he prodded his tongue slowly in, not enough for you to feel anything, yet you felt it all. You wanted to watch him further but your body started to tremble, and your face contorted; when Chan noticed your tense body, the way your hands searched for something to hold on he was quick to react, offering a hand, keeping his pace against your pussy. You were sweet, you were wet, and warm, and everything he didn’t dare imagine, and if he didn’t catch himself in time, he’d be a goner, would mar his pants in sticky cum.

You noticed the hand Chan offered you, and you looked at him before connecting your fingers. You looked shy, embarrassed. He thought you never looked more beautiful.

“Don’t be scared babe. Cum for me. Let go.”

Whispers against you, a voice so soft and breathy you barely heard it, so mumbled into you that you swallowed them whole; but you complied his command, his plead; and you came. Hard, and wet, and loud. You wondered how thick the walls in his dorm were, but only for a second before the thought dissipated again, before your orgasm took over your mind, your body, everything you were. Your thighs shook against him, and you felt his tongue against your puffy clit, so sensitive yet so yearning. Your fingers dug into his hand, and your hips grinded a bit against his face; you didn’t care about it now, and Chan smiled softly into you, though you didn’t feel it.

“That’s it, good girl.”

Only a mumble too, and you would have almost missed his words against the high ringing in your ears; yet when you registered them, when you chewed and swallowed them your head lulled back into your neck, and you whined out his name in crystallized pleasure, raw and real. A pleasure so grand, so caring you’d forgotten about your paper, forgotten about your homework; a pleasure and closeness so great you fell asleep in Chan’s arms that night, content, chest heaving in exhaustion for yet a long time, and a warm, pleasant wetness between your legs.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang @astraystayyh

[wintfleur]

hi roro! love your works!! they’re so good like, I come back and read them over and over😭 can you do a fic where the reader is regularly in landos streams and the fans just adore them and it’s so cutie? thank you so much! if not just ignore this omg 😂

ꔫ baby we’re on camera

°. — pairings ( lando norris x fem! reader )

°. — summary ( lando loves teasing his girl on stream )

°. — details ( g; fluff. w; slightly suggestive at the end ig? wc; 2.6k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( omg I’m soso sorry about how long this took for me to get out, I absolutely loved the idea I just don’t know why it took me so long to write! I also read the part where the reader is regularly in the streams wrong, but I do hope you enjoy it! And thank you so much for the kind words! 🫶🏻 also thank you to my lovely bestie @chrisevansonly for helping me come up with some of the ridiculous usernames! )

main masterlist f1 masterlist

“Where is y/n” Lando reads aloud as he leans back in his chair, the neon yellow username catching his attention in his moving chat. A smile immediately appeared on his face at the mention of his girlfriend of a few years, a few people in the chat noticing and commenting on it. When he first started streaming, he always used to get shy whenever his chat would mention you, sometimes choosing to not comment on the messages. 

Only because he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by over sharing. He loved talking about you, he could talk about you for hours, but he would respect your desire for privacy. But over the years of your relationship the two of you became more open about your relationship, and you often found yourself appearing on his stream; and his chat absolutely loved all the cute moments that would happen when you do. 

“She went out with some of her girlfriends” he nodded as he softly drummed a beat on the armrests of his chair with his fingers. His mind took him back to the morning where he kissed you goodbye and watched you walk out of the apartment; you looked so pretty all dolled up to go out with your friends. Lando suddenly missed you very much the more he thought about you. 

“Actually, she should be home any minute now” he mumbled, loud enough for the microphone to pick it up. He leans forward and picks up his phone, hoping to see a text from you saying that you're on your way home, but instead he just sees his wallpaper of you posing dramatically with a golf club, no text in sight. His lips twitch up to a smile at the sight of his silly wallpaper, he loved your silly side. 

“Actually, I have no idea when she's going to be home” Lando chuckles as he sets his phone back down. He hoped that you came back soon, he had noticed it started to rain and he always got worried about you driving in the rain. You were fully capable; he was just always worrying about you. 

“Did she go out with the other wags?” Lando read out loud a chat message, he had noticed a few other messages asking the same thing. He didn't understand why a lot of his fans were so obsessed with seeing you with the other wags. He answered with a smile “No no she went out with some childhood friends that came to visit; she was really excited to see them.” 

“Guys I'm not going to call her; I don't want to interrupt her fun” Lando shakes his head with a small chuckle. Sometimes it felt like his chat was clingier than he was with you, and that's nearly impossible because he's one clingy boyfriend. Lando focuses on one of his monitors to change the music, his eyes were on his monitor, so he didn't see the chat explode with messages about you and he didn't see you open the door and peek your head in. 

You had gotten home about 10 minutes ago and usually the first thing you would do is greet your boyfriend, but this time you had to change out of your damp clothes. The rain had definitely surprised you and your friends. You quietly opened the door, your fluffy sock covered feet softly padded against the floor. Lando glanced at his chat and saw everyone saying, ‘hi y/n!’. Lando quickly turns his head, and a big smile appears on his face at the sight of you “Baby, you're back!” 

“Yeah, I got back not too long ago, had to change first” you explained to your boyfriend as you stepped closer to him, looking down at your outfit consisting of, fluffy socks, gray sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt. You tried not to glance at the camera too much, you were still a little nervous about being in front of the camera, so you kept the conversation going. You hand your boyfriend who was smiling at you, the brown bakery box filled with delicious pastries “I brought you something, i just knew i had to get you some when i tried them.” 

“Thank you, baby, these look delicious” he gives you one more big smile before he takes a bite into one of the sugary donuts. He lets out a dramatic groan of satisfaction as he leans back in his chair, they were absolutely delicious. You roll your eyes and let out a small laugh, leaning slightly against his chair. You look away from the chat that was moving way too fast for you to read, and back down at lando who was absolutely devouring the pastry. “Just don’t eat all of them, i don't want jon to hate me.” 

“Who cares if he does…because I love you” Lando smiles cheekily, tilting his head up to place a kiss on your cheek. You close your eyes and let out a surprised giggle, wiping off the excess sugar that got on your cheek from his lips. Lando gives you a wink when you open your eyes and goes back to reading his chat. His heart filled with warmth at all the messages saying how cute the two of you are, and how some said they wished they had a sweet girlfriend like you; those made him want to smirk, knowing that there was no one even close to being like you. You were perfect in his eyes. 

landolotts  you guys are so cute, y/n is so lucky…

ittybittypiastri  where did she get that sweater? Link? 

dannyricscowboyhat  lando can pull??? How???

hornerishot  omg moms back! 

oconsunderatedbby  can y/n/n stay? We've missed her! <3 

quadrantstar   we've missed you y/n! 

“The chat wants you to stay, so do i” Lando looked up at you with a smile on his lips, his tone trailing off to a soft whisper. His eyes silently begging you to stay, he understands why you wouldn't, but he still was hopeful. You noticed the look in his eyes, and you couldn't say no to him, not with how he was looking up at you. “Okay, let me go get a chair.” 

“You have one,” Lando smiles playfully, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you down to sit on his lap. Your eyes widened for a second at his boldness and Lando worried for a moment that he was too bold when he felt you stiffen in his lap, but the both of you relaxed as you leaned back against him and laced your fingers with his, that now rested on your thigh. 

You decided not to look at the chat, knowing that their messages would make you feel more flustered. You clear your throat and tilt your head to the side to get a better look at lando, who was already smiling at you “So what were you and chat up to?” 

“We were just chatting and trying to decide what game to play next” Lando said with a cheeky smile as he looked away from you to read the chat, a giggle leaving his lips at some of the messages. Most of them were funny and sweet, of course there was the occasional weird one, but Lando chose to hold his tongue, not wanting to go off on weird chatters while you were there. You already weren't the most comfortable in front of the camera, he didn't want to make you feel more uncomfortable by calling out the weird freaks in his chat. 

“You should play Fortnite” you suggest with a big smile, you have enjoyed watching your boyfriend stream the game. The two of you having even more fun when you played it together off stream. Lando playfully rolls his eyes and tilts his head to the side, dramatically shaking his head “You only want me to play that because you like teasing me about how bad i am.” 

“That I do” you quickly agreed with a laugh. Lando gasped dramatically and his hold on your waist tightened as he pulled you back closer to his chest, as he continued with his dramatics, little did chat know he was already booting up the said game “Are you hearing this chat?” 

The chat was moving fast, as many of the chatters commented on how cute the two of you were, and how natural the banter was. A lot of the viewers agreed that he should play Fortnite, saying that ‘mom’ always has good ideas. Lando had also wanted to play the game, but now he wanted to play it more because you suggested it. He spoke quietly, his tone sending shivers down your spine as his eyes were focused on the screen. “I’ll play just for you baby.”  

The couple spent the next hour playing Fortnite, well lando was playing and you were still perched in his lap and giving him some tips, you had younger siblings so of course you knew how to play the game. After Lando got frustrated about losing for the third time in a row, he was quick to suggest you have a go at the ‘stupid game’. 

So, you sat straight on his lap, your eyes focused on the game, determined to place further in the game then he did. Lando had both of his arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watched with a smile at how cute you looked with his headphones on your head and the cute look of focus you had on your face. He had to stop himself from leaning down and littering your neck in kisses, he could vividly imagine your reaction if he did. ‘Baby were on camera’ you would mutter shyly with that flustered smile on your lips, that he loved so much. 

You weren't familiar with the new map that well, so you let lando pick a place for you to drop. When Lando started to tease you for your sneaking you were quick to defend your game play, sassily telling him that you're not playing for kills but playing to win. The chat loved the chemistry that the two of you had, Lando teasing you about how he's better and you with your witty responses. 

“Lan'' you muttered in a warning tone when you feel him slip one of his hands under the front of your sweatshirt, his warm hand flattens on your stomach, you know his touch is anything but innocent. Lando has a toothy grin on his face, his fingers now tracing shapes on your skin as he spoke innocently “What? Is my touch distracting you?” 

“You wish” you scoffed playfully, not wanting him and chat to know that his touch was in fact distracting you. Lando smiles triumphantly at your reaction, knowing that you were lying, and he was in fact distracting you but nonetheless he stops his movements. Lando rests his chin on your shoulder again and quietly watches you play. His eyes glancing at the chat ever so often, his heart filling with warmth at all the sweet chats about the two of you. 

As the game goes on, Lando's quiet tone turns into a tone of excitement when he realizes that there are only three people left, including you. The chat spammed loll’s and laughing emojis as Lando excitedly tried to give you tips and you telling him to shut up because you couldn't hear yourself think. Lando pouts grumpily and leans back in his chair, now wanting your attention even more. You were too caught up in wanting to win the game to notice your pouting boyfriend. 

And win is exactly what you did, you hid until the other two started fighting and that's when you jumped out of the bush you were hiding in and killed them both. As soon as the #1 victory royal showed up on the screen you turned your head to smile excitedly at lando. Lando laughs and places a sweet kiss on your cheek, his hands rubbing our side under your sweater “Good job baby” You giggled as you say thank you, also thanking the chat that was congratulating you for your win. 

When you feel one of his fingers secretly dip into the band of your sweatpants, you take your hands off the keyboard and mouse and nonchalantly get up from his lap. Making your way over to the shelf that was by his desk and out of sight from the camera to ‘grab’ ChapStick. Lando’s frown from you getting up, turns into a smirk when he realizes why you did, having felt you clench your thighs together before you got up. 

“All right, chat I'm gonna head off. Gotta go properly congratulate my girl for winning” Lando watched your figure as you got up from his lap and moved to the other side of his room out of the view of the camera with the bite of his lip, he glanced back at the camera with a smirk. His tone was suggestive, and a loud laugh leaves his lips when you turn around and throw the small plushie he had on one of his shelves that you had gotten him at his head. Lando catches the bear as you give him a look of shock and embarrassment “Lando! Chat he's joking, please ignore him”! 

“Trust me, chat I'm not joking” Lando winks with a cheeky smile at the camera, very much enjoying how flustered you got and the way the chat started to go crazy. You groan in embarrassment and grab your phone off his desk “That's it, I'm leaving!” you wave your hand for the chat, not wanting to bend down to be in the frame of the camera, knowing that the chat would definitely be able to see how flustered you were “Bye chat!” 

Lando watched you walk out of the room with a grin, you give him a playful glare before closing the door behind you. Lando had planned on streaming for longer, but he couldn't ignore that ache he felt in his heart when you left the room, he wanted to spend more time with you. He loved watching you become more comfortable in front of the camera, in front of his chat in the short amount of time you joined him. Lando picks up his head set that you had set down on the desk when you took them off, lando hums along to the song that was playing as he closes his tabs before leaning back in his chair and reading the chat “Alright chat, it's time for me to head off.” 

Lando tried to keep up with his chat, the messages zooming by, most of them were about you. Talking about how they enjoyed your presence and begging Lando to convince you to come back on the stream soon. Lando smiles “I'll let her know chat” Lando hears the familiar sound of his phone going off with a notification. He was quick to pick up his phone, a mischievous grin spreading over his lips when he saw the notification. 

y/n 💞: in bed…waiting for that proper congratulations ☺️

Lando quickly shuts off his phone as he feels a warm blush spread across his face and neck. He clears his throat and giggles nervously when the chat breaks out in a bunch of question marks with your name, obviously seeing how flustered he had become from seeing the notification. Lando nods and waves at the chat, eager to end and join you in your shared bed “See you guys soon.” 

Lando ends the stream and quickly rushes to shut off his computer, he grabs his phone and quickly gets out of his chair and makes his way to the door. He stops in his tracks once he remembers something and rushes over to his desk to pick up the brown box of donuts. Lando opens the door, careful not to drop the delicious pastries and his phone, rushing down the hallway. Calling out for you. 

“Baby wait for me!”  

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I really missed writing for Lando, I have a lot of ideas and req’s for him that I want to write! I’ve just been kinda focused on my hockey AU! But I will try to find a better schedule so I could work on that and my f1 fics! I also have another idea for another lando streaming based fic, it’s going to be so cute! )

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @ophcelia @cixrosie )

[reidology13]

we could make it better (breaking every habit)

Spencer Reid x fem ex-famous!reader

Summary: After Spencer overcomes his addiction, he seeks out the company and forgiveness of an old flame. cw: talk of addiction, a little sad? mostly fluffy though a/n: technically a part 2 of my fic based off making the bed by olivia rodrigo, but it can definitely be read as a oneshot. maybe they are a bit unhealthy, but they're cute and that's all that matters. also this was so incredibly delayed cause my phone drowned so I'm posting this from my dad's computer

Part 1

They say time heals all wounds, and standing at the door of his past mistake, Spencer hoped it had healed hers the way it had his. It had taken him too long to find her, for his pride to break down enough to ask Garcia to search for her. A few years ago it would have been all too easy, a few years ago she was on the cover of every magazine. Now she was the public's favourite conspiracy theory, the biggest where did she go? post made on some website full of self important nobodies. 

Where did she go? A small house in a small town, a few hours from D.C, just close enough that Spencer had gotten in his car without a second thought the moment he had her address. Maybe it was a slight invasion of privacy, but Spencer had seen much more of her than the house she lived in.

As he lifted his fist to knock, doubt crept in for the first time since the beginning of his endeavour. Was he right to apologise, to show up at the doorstep of the person he hurt worse than anyone else in his life, and say sorry? Sorry. ‘Sorry’ was a puny word that could never hope to mean anything compared to what he had done, how he had used her. But it would have to do, because he had not come all that way to turn back at the flashing neon sign that said ‘CLOSURE’.

Knock, knock, knock. Was three knocks not enough? Knock. God four was too many and the last one had been so separate from the others it was clearly an afterthought that she would think was weird before she even knew it was him on the other side of-

“Spencer?” The door opened, just enough for her face to be visible through the small opening. She was so much more beautiful than he remembered, although he really didn’t remember much from back then. 

“I’m sorry.” Well that was one way to get to the point. He smacked himself internally, scolding himself for being so stupid and inconsiderate, not even saying hello or asking her how she was doing.

“Do you wanna come in? You look like you need to sit down.” She pulled the door open, stepping back to let him in, and Spencer froze. She was allowing him into her home, her space, he who had squeezed her dry, used her up and tossed her aside when he didn’t need her anymore.

Unsure what else to do, Spencer found himself sitting on her couch, the awkward tension between them palpable as he sat silently in regret of every decision he had made in the last week.

“So,” She prompted, gesturing vaguely in his direction, “How are you?”

“Good, yeah, better. You?” He looked around the room, trying to find something that would tell him anything about her life, about her. She was a stranger, really, a stranger that used to be someone he knew. He wanted to know who she was then, on that day, in her house sitting across from him.

“I’m good too. You look better.” He knew what she meant – he didn’t look high out of his mind. The far wall of the room was covered in framed pictures of her and what he assumed were her family and friends. Some were from her childhood, some were taken in front of the very house he was sitting in. 

What surprised Spencer were the photos, though few and far between, where he made an appearance. The Fourth of July party, a bright, sunny photo full of smiling faces. The poor quality of the picture did nothing to disguise the bags under his eyes, nor the dead look in hers. Her birthday, a photo of her blowing out the candles on her cake, blurred from his shaky grip on the camera.

“I don’t remember that one.” He pointed to a picture of the two of them, a dark photo that he nearly hadn’t recognised as himself. The ability to not remember had been his favourite thing back then, now the haze left him with a pit in his stomach.

“Makes sense, you were… you were bad. It was taken right near the end.” 

“I am sorry, really.” Neither of them spoke after that, the silence a warm blanket rather than a thick smog. The apology wrapped around them in a warm embrace, they did not choke on it.

She moved first, after what felt like the most peaceful eternity, slipping her hand around his, holding it in the space between them. He looked down at their joined hands, his gaze slowly drifting up until it landed on the soft smile spread across her face.

“I missed you.” She squeezed his hand gently, although it felt like she squeezed his heart instead, “I missed you from the moment I met you. It’s nice to get you back.”

“I missed you too.” He didn’t know how to explain the way it had taken him a month to get sober enough that reality hit and he realised what he’d lost. At least, he didn’t know how to explain it without having to actually say something about his addiction. He’d always been good at avoiding the topic, skirting around it with suggestions and subtle confirmations. The word ‘addiction’ made him feel weak, like he’d been defeated. He’d talked about his problem once, in a room full of people who had been through the same thing, and even then he hadn’t been able to say it. 

“You’re so strong, Spencer. You’ve come so far.” It was like she could read his mind, see every fear that haunted him and soothe it accordingly.

“So are you, I mean, you got out of everything.” His eyes dropped to his lap in shame of everything that he hadn’t noticed, all of the obvious signs of just how not okay she had been. All that she must have been going through, that he had been too far from reality to know existed, even when it was staring him in the face.

“You say that like you didn’t.” It was a simple sentiment, but maybe that was what hit him like a freight train. It wasn’t some mantra he’d heard hundreds of times, or a complicated conversation with his friends where they tried to talk to him without saying anything that actually mattered.

He got out of it.

“You’re perfect, you know that right?” The way he looked at her in that moment could only be described as reverential, she was the brightest star in a sky that he had never truly seen before.

“No I’m not.” The way she said it like a definite fact made Spencer’s heart start to crack, “Do you know why I have those pictures up?”

Spencer shook his head, “Tell me,” he said the words under his breath, as if they were surrounded by people in the empty room, “I’m not going to find you any less perfect.”

“Hope. I could never get the thought out of my head that you would come back.” She shook her head, gaze locked on the ground like she couldn’t bear to look at him as she spoke. “It was stupid, and then you actually did, and that’s stupid all over again.”

“You’re even more perfect than I thought.” Spencer laughed, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, happy and sad and something he couldn’t put a name to. She was still holding his hand, he realised, and he used that information to interlace their fingers, placing their joined hands in his spare palm.

“I’m stupid and lucky, that’s what I am.” She snorted, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“No, not stupid.” Spencer drew circles with his thumb on her palm as he spoke, “Lucky, maybe.” 

“We’re gonna have to talk about this, us, you know that.”

“Eventually, yes. Not right now.”

“Not right now.” She confirmed, nodding slowly. They were both there, and that would have to be enough, at least for the moment.

[fratttymatty]

The Basement

(All characters are 18+)

Elliot York had always lived in a world of his own making. A world painted in shades of faded Polaroids, sepia-toned photography, and the tactile hum of his beloved vintage film camera. At 30 years old, he'd never left his childhood home. His mother didn’t mind. She was just happy he was there, safely tucked away in the basement, where he spent hours surrounded by his photography equipment, sketchbooks, and the scent of old books. His life had always been quiet and unassuming—except for the occasional flare-up of frustration over his stalled career as a freelance photographer and artist.

The basement was his sanctuary. He had put up curtains to separate the clutter of his workspace from the cozy corner where he gamed, lounged on old leather sofas, and tried (and failed) to distract himself from the loneliness that gnawed at him. The art on the walls, his collection of vintage cameras, the scattered paintbrushes and half-finished canvases—they were all remnants of a dream that had long been abandoned. But Elliot had found peace there, or at least a dull form of acceptance.

But one evening, as he sunk into his usual routine—editing photos, sipping cheap wine, and scrolling through social media—something strange began to happen. The room felt different. The walls started to shift and hum with an energy that he couldn’t quite understand. It wasn’t a good feeling, not the cozy, familiar vibe that usually calmed him after a long day. No, this was something else. It was unsettling, almost alien.

Elliot stood up, his bare feet cold against the concrete floor. He reached for his phone to check the time, but the screen went black before he could tap it. As if on cue, the lights flickered, then dimmed, and then everything went dark. The silence that followed felt suffocating.

Before he could react, the floor beneath him began to tremble. His heart raced, and the air seemed to pulse with something he couldn’t name. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash, a searing light that filled every corner of the room. He shielded his eyes, but it was no use. The glow was everywhere.

The sound of furniture shifting, re-arranging itself, reached his ears. When the light finally faded, Elliot opened his eyes to find that the basement had transformed into something… different.

Where his art studio had once been, now stood a private gym. The walls were lined with weights, punching bags, and racks of dumbbells. There was a neon sign in the corner that read “GET BIG OR GO HOME,” and a large flat-screen TV mounted on the opposite wall, with gaming consoles strewn across a low table. His leather sofas had been replaced with sleek beanbag chairs, and there were posters of famous athletes and cars decorating the walls. The entire room reeked of sweat and testosterone.

Elliot staggered backward, his mind scrambling to process what had just happened. He looked around in a daze. This… this wasn’t his space. This was some jock’s lair. It was everything he wasn’t. But before he could piece together what was going on, he felt a strange tug in the pit of his stomach. It was an almost physical sensation, a deep, primal force pulling at him, rewiring him, altering him in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

And then it started.

His body began to heat up, the air around him feeling thicker, as if his very cells were being remade. His skin stretched and tightened, his muscles swelling unnaturally as the change began. Elliot gasped, but the sound came out wrong. His voice, once soft and melodic, deepened into something guttural, more masculine. The edges of his vision blurred as the pain started to radiate from the inside out.

His hands, once slender and artistic, grew thick with muscle. His arms were covered in a sheen of sweat as his shoulders broadened and his chest expanded. His abdomen contracted and thickened, forming the abs of a bodybuilder. He could feel the air leaving his lungs as the transformation continued—each breath a battle. His legs grew stronger, thicker, the bones in his legs cracking and reshaping, giving him the powerful legs of a jock.

As the changes continued, Elliot's mind was bombarded by new thoughts, new instincts. The urge to lift weights, to work out, to dominate, it all consumed him. His thoughts flickered and shifted, like pages turning in a book, each one erasing a part of his old self.

His hair was the first thing he noticed. The bleached buzzcut he had been sporting for the past year—decorated with delicate flowers and a symbol of his indie artist lifestyle—was gone. In its place was a thick, dark brown fringe that fell messily across his forehead, styled in the latest TikTok jock fashion. He ran a hand through it, surprised at how it felt so right to him now.

His clothing, too, had transformed. The oversized hoodie and vintage jeans he had been wearing were gone, replaced by a fitted, tight athletic shirt and cargo shorts that clung to his newly muscled thighs. He stared at himself in the reflective surface of the gym mirror. The person staring back at him was unrecognizable.

The most shocking change, however, was the way his mind worked. Elliot—no, the person who had been Elliot—was slipping away. His new name was Ethan. He knew that now. He felt it. The name Ethan York seemed to pulse in his veins. The old worries about art, about the future, about being different—all of that was fading. In its place, a new drive surged within him: sports, girls, and partying. The thrill of competition, of lifting weights, of kissing girls on couches like these… that was what mattered now.

Ethan stood there for what felt like hours, unable to tear his eyes away from the mirror. His entire identity was slipping through his fingers like sand. His old life—the life of an artist, of a photographer, of someone who had longed to find his place in the world—felt distant now, like it belonged to someone else. It no longer seemed to matter.

A loud cheer echoed through the basement, and Ethan realized with a jolt that there were people here now. His friends—his new friends—were hanging out in the basement, lifting weights, laughing, playing video games, and throwing around crude jokes. One of them, a tall guy with broad shoulders and a thick neck, slapped Ethan on the back.

“Yo, dude, you ready for the party later?” he asked, his voice full of that easy confidence that Ethan now understood all too well.

“Yeah, for sure,” Ethan replied with a grin that felt so natural, it was as if he had always smiled like this. His old self—the one who had stared at the world through the lens of a camera, capturing fleeting moments—was gone.

As Ethan joined his friends, slipping into the role of the charismatic jock, he realized that there was no going back. He had been reborn. His old life, his old dreams, everything that had once been important to him, now felt hollow, irrelevant.

The basement—the gym, the gaming consoles, the posters of athletes—was no longer a prison of his own making. It was home. And for the first time in a long time, Ethan felt free.

He never once looked back.

The first few days after the transformation were a blur of new experiences, sensations, and… changes. Ethan, as he was now called, settled into his new life with an unsettling ease. At first, there was a part of him—buried deep inside—that clung to the remnants of his old identity. The artist. The creative soul. The man who had spent years living in his mother's basement, making art and dreaming of a different life. But that part of him quickly became overshadowed by the aggressive, hyper-masculine energy that now consumed him.

The more he worked out, the more his body seemed to crave the endorphin rush of weightlifting, of winning, of being the best. His muscles were constantly sore, but the pain felt good—it felt like he was becoming something greater, something stronger, something… dominant. And the more he grew in this new identity, the more he found himself disdainful of anything weak, anything soft. His patience with his old hobbies—photography, art, writing—waned. His camera, once a tool of self-expression, now sat neglected in the corner of his room, gathering dust.

Ethan started to feel that old life was for losers. The people he used to admire—quirky artists, introverted thinkers, anyone who didn’t fit into the tight mold of a jock—seemed… pathetic now. And in its place, a new breed of arrogance and entitlement bloomed within him. He was the center of his world now, and he knew it. The stares, the whispers—he loved them. He could feel the eyes of girls on him whenever he walked into a room, and it sent a rush of pride through his veins.

"Yo, Ethan, you gonna hit the gym today or what?" a voice called out as he walked through the basement. His buddy, Kyle, was sprawled across the new couch, his feet up on the coffee table, wearing a tank top that showcased his broad arms.

"Yeah, in a minute," Ethan replied with a lazy shrug, flipping his dark, messy hair out of his eyes. He no longer cared about the quiet, artistic moments he'd once cherished. Instead, he reveled in the shallow conversations, the jokes about how much protein they were consuming, and the constant flexing of muscles.

But then there were those moments, the ones that made his blood boil—moments that left a sour taste in his mouth, even in the high of his newfound popularity.

One evening, he was hanging out with a group of his friends—drinking beer and playing video games in the transformed basement, laughing too loud, throwing insults at each other like it was the height of wit. The mood was light, but there was something that cut through the laughter that made Ethan’s muscles tense, his jaw clench.

A guy he barely knew—Mark, one of the freshmen from the high school he still technically attended—had shown up at the party, wearing a tight shirt that clung to his body a little too snugly for Ethan's liking. Mark wasn’t a jock, not in the way Ethan now thought of as right. He was more on the geeky side, wearing glasses and talking too much about video games instead of football.

“Yo, Ethan, I didn’t know you liked photography,” Mark said awkwardly, holding a bottle of soda like it was his lifeline.

Ethan glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, I used to be into that art stuff. Now I’m focused on real things, y’know? Like... working out.” His voice was rougher now, full of the newfound arrogance that he couldn't even recognize as self-loathing anymore.

Mark fumbled with his drink. "Oh, cool. I mean, I think it's awesome how, like, artistic people can still be jocks."

Ethan’s expression shifted immediately. His lip curled into a sneer, and his eyes narrowed. “Artistic, huh? That’s cute. You know what I think about art?” He looked down at Mark with mock pity. “It’s for soft people. You know, like… weirdos.” His words were sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. The others at the party laughed, clearly uncomfortable but complicit in the joke.

Mark flushed, visibly shrinking under Ethan’s gaze. Ethan wasn’t even thinking about it at this point; he was just speaking what came naturally. The idea that someone could be into photography and still be tough, still be masculine, felt so wrong to him now. He couldn’t put it into words, but his gut told him that real men didn’t concern themselves with art or sensitivity. Real men got girls, lifted heavy weights, and dominated life. His new life.

But it wasn’t just about art. Ethan’s homophobia had grown like a weed in a garden, spreading uncontrollably. It was like his new self had to rewrite every part of him, especially the parts that could be considered “weak” or “soft.” His tolerance for things that felt “feminine” had evaporated, and soon, even the smallest hint of something that was remotely “gay” or “queer” made his skin crawl.

At one point, when a guy from school—Chris—who was a bit more effeminate and openly gay, sat down on the couch near him, Ethan felt his blood pressure spike. Chris had always been polite, always too friendly, but Ethan had never given it much thought—until now.

"Hey, Ethan," Chris said, adjusting his hoodie and running a hand through his sleek hair. "You up for a game later?"

Ethan didn’t look at him at first. Instead, he took a long swig of his beer, his eyes scanning the room. "Nah, man. I’m good," he muttered, his tone dismissive.

Chris laughed awkwardly. "Alright, well… if you change your mind, you know where I am."

Ethan’s eyes flicked back to Chris, narrowing. “Honestly, dude, you should maybe… like, tone it down a little,” he said, his voice low, deliberately cutting. "You don’t have to be all... effeminate all the time. It’s a little weird."

His words hung in the air, like a heavy stone.

Chris blinked, clearly taken aback. "What do you mean?" he asked, his face shifting with confusion.

Ethan leaned back, his gaze hardening. "I mean... just… you're acting like you’re in a fucking musical or something." He chuckled, but it sounded hollow even to him. “You don’t need to act so… gay all the time. It’s just uncomfortable for everyone.”

There was a cold silence in the room. Mark, Kyle, and the others shifted uncomfortably, but no one said anything. They just stared, either not caring or too afraid to speak up.

Ethan didn’t care. He was beyond caring.

He was a man now. And men didn’t have time for weakness, for sensitivity, for anything that didn’t fit into the world he had molded for himself. The girl he had been flirting with earlier, Mia—she was all over him now, and that felt like the only thing that mattered. He wasn’t some soft, emotional artist anymore. He was Ethan York, and he was popular, and he was a man.

The party continued late into the night. Ethan and his friends played video games, traded insults, and knocked back more beers. The air was thick with bravado, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. But Mark—who had been pushed aside by Ethan's cruel words earlier—remained quiet, nursing his soda.

He watched Ethan, his old classmate, with a strange mix of fascination and unease. Something about Ethan had shifted, something deep, something unsettling. But at the same time, Mark couldn’t help but feel a weird sense of longing—a desire to be part of the group, to be part of what Ethan had become. There was a magnetism about Ethan now, something powerful and alluring. And despite everything inside him that told him he didn’t belong in this world, a small voice in his head whispered that maybe, just maybe, he could change.

It was then that the transformation began.

It started subtly, like the shifting of shadows, creeping through Mark’s body like a slow burn. He felt a wave of heat flood through his chest, his limbs tingling with unfamiliar energy. He was still sitting on the couch, his eyes locked on Ethan as if hypnotized, but everything around him seemed to blur. His body seemed to ache, his muscles pulsing as if they were being stretched and expanded.

Mark’s hands clenched, his knuckles cracking as his fingers thickened with new muscle. His legs seemed to twitch, his jeans growing tighter around his thighs as they bulked up, swelling with new strength. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat as his entire body seemed to reshape itself, and his thoughts—his old, nerdy thoughts—faded away, replaced by an overwhelming desire to fit in, to be powerful, to be strong.

His clothes felt tight, uncomfortably so, and with a sickening snap, his shirt ripped open across his chest as his pecs ballooned out. His face burned, his jawline sharpening, and his hair—once messy and unruly—now fell in a dark, tousled fringe that framed his face in the exact same style as Ethan's. He barely recognized himself. Mark’s body, once scrawny and awkward, was now a mass of muscle, solid and imposing.

He stood up, suddenly feeling taller, stronger—almost as if he was made to stand out. He looked around the room, his gaze landing on Ethan, who stared back with a mixture of amusement and pride. Mark didn’t say a word.

The transformation had taken hold completely.

“Yo, Ethan,” Mark said, his voice now deep and confident, full of swagger. His tongue felt heavier in his mouth, and his words came out with a new arrogance, “This is fucking awesome.”

Ethan smirked, clearly satisfied. "Welcome to the team, bro," he said, throwing an arm around Mark’s newly broad shoulders, the two of them standing side-by-side. It felt natural, as if this was how it had always been.

Mark didn’t hesitate. His old self—the nerd, the shy, creative guy who had spent hours tinkering with gadgets and buried in his books—was gone. In its place stood someone who had finally found their place in the world. Mark was a man, and he wasn’t going back.

The soft hum of the gym in Ethan’s basement was now a constant background noise in his life—weights clanging, music blasting, and the occasional cheer of a newly broken record. The basement had been his domain, but in the last few months, it had become more than that. It had become the center of his life, not just in terms of workouts and gaming, but in how he’d built the new life he’d always dreamed of—confident, strong, and undeniably him.

But the biggest change had nothing to do with the weights or the video games. It had everything to do with her.

Mia.

She was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked up under her as she flipped through a magazine, occasionally glancing up at Ethan as he adjusted his dumbbells. The space between them was no longer just one of attraction or chemistry—it was something deeper now, something rooted in trust and understanding. They had been together for several months, and while the world around Ethan had transformed beyond recognition, there was one constant—Mia.

And she’d always had a way of seeing beyond the surface.

“Hey, how’s the game going?” Mia asked, a playful edge to her voice. She didn’t need to say much to get his attention.

Ethan grinned, setting down the weights. He wiped the sweat from his brow, then leaned against the wall, glancing at her. “Crushing it. Of course.” He winked, his tone cocky, but the smile on his face was genuine.

Mia raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You’re always crushing it,” she said, her voice light but full of affection. "You need to teach me your secret sometime."

Ethan laughed, walking over and sitting next to her on the couch, his hand naturally resting on the back of her neck. He let his fingers trail lightly over the skin there, brushing away a strand of hair. “You mean the secret to being irresistible?” he said, voice laced with playful arrogance.

She snorted. “You really do have an ego now, don’t you?”

He grinned, but the cocky edge in his voice softened. “Maybe a little. But I’m not complaining. Life’s good right now.” He took a deep breath, feeling the quiet satisfaction of his success, but it wasn’t about the muscles or the achievements. It was about the life he had built—and who he was building it with.

Mia reached up to cup his jaw, her fingers gentle as they traced the sharp line of his face. She studied him, her expression softening. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “I can see that. But you know what? I’m proud of you, Ethan. You’ve worked hard for all of this. I see the difference in you.”

Ethan smiled, the weight of her words settling warmly in his chest. “I don’t think I could’ve done it without you, Mia.”

She tilted her head slightly, still holding his gaze. “Maybe not. But you did it. And that’s all you.”

There was a silence between them—one of those comfortable, content moments that didn’t need any words. He knew what she meant. She wasn’t just talking about the physical changes—those were easy. What she meant was that he’d grown into a person who wasn’t afraid to be himself anymore. He wasn’t pretending to be someone he wasn’t, or hiding behind old insecurities. He was a man who had claimed his place in the world—and who had found someone who not only accepted him, but loved him for exactly who he was.

Their lips met softly in a kiss, one that wasn’t rushed or full of desperation, but one that carried years of silent understanding. They’d both grown over the past months—not just together, but as individuals. Ethan had finally come to realize that strength wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, too. And Mia had always been there, steady and real, pulling him forward whenever he felt like he was slipping.

As they pulled away, Mia grinned up at him. “So, what are we doing tonight? I was thinking we could actually hang out in the real world instead of this basement gym.”

Ethan laughed. “You mean… like a date? Outside of this cave?”

“Exactly,” she said, her smile wide and genuine. “Maybe we could hit up that new sushi place you’ve been talking about? You know, actually go somewhere without a weight bench involved?”

Ethan thought about it for a moment. He was used to the basement—the familiar pull of weights, the games, the comfort of his private space. But as he looked at Mia, at the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something as simple as dinner out, he realized that there were more important things than the four walls that had once defined his life.

“Sounds perfect,��� he said, reaching down to take her hand. “I think I’m ready for something new.”

Mia grinned, squeezing his hand. “You mean you’re finally ready to leave your little kingdom?”

Ethan chuckled, pulling her up from the couch and leading her toward the door. “Maybe. But don’t get used to it. The basement's still got a few more workouts left in me.”

Mia laughed, her head resting against his shoulder as they walked out the door together. She was right—Ethan had changed. And while the muscle and the confidence were part of it, the real change had happened inside. He was no longer the guy who hid in the shadows of his mother’s basement, afraid to show the world who he truly was. Now, he was the man who had built his life, step by step, with the strength of his own will—and with the love of someone who saw him, really saw him, for all of it.

And as he stepped into the world outside, hand in hand with Mia, Ethan knew that whatever came next, he was ready for it. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t just surviving. He was living.

And he had someone by his side to enjoy it with.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Do You Wanna Touch Me?

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) Pairing: Marcus Pike x Sex Worker Female Reader Words Count: 4,200 Summary: After getting his heart broken, Marcus Pike takes an assignment in Amsterdam. What started as an exploration of the red light district turns into choosing you, the most beautiful art he's ever seen. Warnings: sex work, erotic dancing, hand job, masturbation, fingering, oral (m receiving), reader wears makeup and a dress, marcus tries to escape his heartbreak, van gogh mentions, reader is college aged, dieter bravo exists in this universe

A/N: This was written for @baronessvonglitter's Fuck-tober birthday celebration. I was assigned Marcus Pike and "Do You Wanna Touch Me" by Joan Jett. Happy birthday Adriana!!! 💕

Here are the songs I refer to in the fic: “Do You Wanna Touch Me” by Joan Jett “Bed Chem” by Sabrina Carpenter “Streets” by Doja Cat “God Is A Woman” by Ariana Grande “Cinema” by Harry Styles “The Night Me and Your Mama Met” by Childish Gambino Masterlist

---

Marcus doesn’t do things like this. He’s a good man, a good son, a good brother, a good friend, and most of all, a good agent. And yet, he still walks down the cobblestone street that’s bathed in red lights.

LIVE SEX SHOW  SEX TOYS SEX PALACE HIGH TIMES

What in the world is he doing here? Curiosity, loneliness, being so fucking horny he can’t focus on the case ahead. You’re a good man he tells himself as he ventures deeper into the crimson alleys, the shadow of shame following closely behind him.  

“Hey handsome. Today’s your lucky day.” A blonde man winks, handing him a gilded envelope. “You’re invited to Galerij.” 

Marcus blinks down at the golden envelope, looking up to find the blonde stranger already gone from his sight. He opens the envelope, revealing a simple invitation with gold embossed text. 

Galerij, Amsterdam’s hottest art pieces. €400

He’s a damn FBI agent, and yet he’s too intrigued and desperate for a distraction to say no. He should know better, his badge weighs heavily in his pocket. He plugs the address into his phone with a sigh and makes the quick walk to the address listed, silently atoning for his sins as he passes the Oude Kerk church. He doesn’t dare make eye contact with any of the police officers situated, they might sense his shame. 

“You’ve arrived at your destination,” the robotic voice intones. He looks up at the plain brick row home that stands out amongst the surrounding buildings covered in neon lights with windows full of girls in different levels of undress. 

A small gold sign hangs above the unassuming black door. GALERIJ

He inhales deeply and pushes the door open. A bell jingles. Inside, an older looking woman with slicked-back blonde hair and a sharp black suit sits behind a desk. 

“Nederlands or English?” she asks, her tone clipped.

“English,” he answers, his throat tight. “Please.”

“Invitation?”

“Oh, uh, here,” he hands her the invitation. 

Without any more acknowledgment, she gestures to a black leather chair near an intricately carved golden door. “Please take a seat.”

A bit of trepidation blooms within him as he sits down, but when he looks around, he realizes that this isn’t some seedy back-alley brothel. It can’t be that bad if the walls are covered in mahogany and the floor is marble. 

The woman makes a quick phone call, speaking in a hushed voice. His palms grow sweaty. What the hell is he doing? This was supposed to be a quick exploration of something that’s always fascinated him… legal vices. Yet now, he's gripping the armrests as the same stern woman brings over a clipboard and card machine. 

“Cash or charge?” 

“Oh, cash?” he replies quickly, fumbling for his wallet. There’s no way he’s going to use a credit card around here, too many chances of his secret adventure getting revealed on a statement. 

“400 euros.” 

He opens his wallet and unfolds his money. 100, what are you doing? 200, what are you doing? 300, Marcus, seriously, what are you doing? 350, no seriously what are you doing? 400, damn, you’re really doing it. 

Stern woman takes the money and hands him a gold pin with a simple G etched onto it. She hits a small gold bell on her desk, a singular ring sharply echoes across the small room. 

He pins the pin to his chest, reminding him of all the times he used to pin the old Met Museum badge to his lapel when he was a young college student in New York. This is so much more different than that, he reminds himself. 

The golden door opens after a moment. 

A beautiful older woman in a dark burgundy skirt and matching jacket walks out with a smile lifting her dark red lips. 

“Welcome to Galerij. I am Maud, the curator.” she greets, offering her hand. “What would you like us to call you here?”

He rises and shakes her hand. 

Can’t do Marcus, can’t do Pike, can’t do Agent. He thinks of that one actor everyone tells him he looks like. “Uh–Bravo.” 

“Very well, Bravo,” she opens the door, moving aside allowing him to walk through. “Welcome to Galerij.”

He steps into a stark white room. The floor is shiny concrete, a singular white table with two white wishbone chairs sit in the middle of the room, a stark contrast to the entrance room on the other side of the wall. Not exactly what he was expecting. The agent in him can’t help but think this would be a perfect place to kill somebody. 

Maud motions for him to sit across from her. “Here you will make your decision on what piece you’d like. Gay or straight?”

He sits down, her question is a reminder as to why he’s really here. “Straight,” he answers, his nerves beginning to creep around him. 

She nods. “All of our pieces are tested, clean, and practice safe sex. Your piece will tell you what they will and won’t do once you make your choice. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” 

“You will have twenty minutes, your time will start once you enter your gallery. A bell will ring every five minutes, your final bell will ring twice symbolizing your last five minutes. Do not be late. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Of course no photos or recordings. We ask you to not even have your phone out. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” 

“Are you ready?” she asks with a smile on her face.

“I am,” he answers. His heart is pounding. 

She nods and presses a button, a shrill buzz echoes through the room. A hidden door opens and a large muscle and tattoo clad man with buzzed black hair and a nose ring walks out carrying a red velvet-covered book. He hands it to Maud, before standing behind her like a silent guardian.

His heart races faster than he ever thought it could when she  opens the book and pushes it towards him. 

GALERIJ with the day's date is stamped on the thick page. 

His fingers tremble as he flips to the first page revealing a photo of an olive skinned and brown haired woman clad in dark blue lingerie with delicate yellow stars embroidered all over it lying on top of swirled silky blue sheets. She’s absolutely stunning.

“This is The Starry Night.”

He nods, turning the page. 

A pale skinned, petite woman with shockingly white blonde hair wears a light blue bra and lace panties while laying atop white flower petals. She’s just as beautiful as the first woman. 

“This is Almond Blossom.” 

He turns the page. 

A dark skinned, dark haired woman sits against a yellow wall wearing two sunflower blooms over her ample chest. Her smile is wide, just like her eyes lined with bright gold glitter. She’s gorgeous 

“This is Sunflowers.”

They all look like they just walked off the runway, all beautiful and alluring. He wonders what–or who–the next piece will be. He smiles to himself when he realizes they’re all named after Van Gogh. Of course he’d find himself in an art themed brothel… he just can’t escape work. 

“Before you see my fourth piece, please know she’s a little different. You cannot touch her, only watch. Don’t let that sway your decision, she is our most popular piece.” 

He braces himself as he turns the page. 

He loses his breath when he sees you. There you are, sitting cross-legged against the same color wall as Sunflowers. He can just see a glimpse of your nipples under your sheer indigo bra. Your green lined eyes leer at the camera. He thanks all the stars in Starry Night for his chance to even get a look at you. He’s lost in time at how your skin glows against the golden wall. 

“Wow,” he breathes out. 

“I believe you made your decision,” Maud says with a knowing smile. “This is Irises.” 

“Yes,” Marcus swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “Irises please.”

She nods and closes the book. “Pieter, let Irises know.”

“Okay Bravo,” Maud says with a smile and stands. “Pieter will come and get you when Irises is ready. Please do enjoy my gallery.” 

“Thank you Maud,” he says, wiping his sweaty hands against the fabric of his jeans. 

The fading sound of Maud and Pieter’s steps and a door closing leaves him all alone in the sparse room.

He hopes he looks good enough for you. His dark blue jeans are presentable enough, his plain gray v neck is clean, he thanks himself for spritzing himself with a dash of cologne before leaving his hotel. He knows he paid the equivalent of close to $450 for you to like him, but he still wants to impress you. 

He checks his watch, five minutes have passed. He’s too afraid to bring his phone out, so he just stares forward, nervously tapping his foot.

This wasn’t his plan at all, he was just going to explore and sightsee, nothing more. No drugs, no sex, just curiosity. 

The door opens. Pieter appears. 

“Irises is ready,” he announces, his accent thick. “Follow me.”

He tentatively trails Pieter through the door walking down a hallway lined with doors. Ornate golden frames hang with Van Gogh pieces in each one. They reach the door with Irises hung next to it.

“Twenty minutes,” Pieter says flatly, opening the door. “Sit in the chair. Do not touch. You watch.”

Marcus nods, his heart slamming against his chest. His knees almost buckle as he steps inside the room. 

It’s dark, save for a single spotlight shining down on a small stage, a lone purple velvet high back chair sits waiting for him in the middle of it. His shaky legs take him up the three steps before he lowers into it, hands clenching the wide armrests, trying to control his breathing. 

He shouldn't be here–-he knows that. It’s too late for regrets now.

The click-clack of your heels echoes through the room when you step onto the stage. He’s too nervous to turn his head to see you. His body tenses, anticipation coiling all of his muscles tight. When you finally step in front of him, he has to remind himself to breathe.

You’re beautiful, the light catches on the sheer fabric of your dress. He can just make out the curves of your body, naked under light lavender chiffon. Your eyes are lined with deep purple eyeliner, ending into a cat eye at the corners. Your ruby red lips curl up into a knowing smile, almost as if you can see his desire for you. 

Four thousand miles away from home and he’s just found the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. His cock begins to thicken, the shame of his paid for voyeurism adventure dissolving from his mind. You’re finer than any masterpiece he’s ever had to investigate. 

“Hi Bravo,” you purr, your voice smooth and teasing, “Do you wanna touch me?” 

He nods and coughs nervously. “Y-yes. But, I can’t.”

A slow, knowing smile spreads across your lips. “Good boy.” 

His back tightens, a wave of heat flows down his spine and settles in his lap. For too long he’s disallowed himself from feeling this type of pleasure. Too busy, too sad, too heartbroken. What led him here feels like a blur. An exchange of glances, a subtle wink, an invitation. The black door, €400 out of his wallet, a white room, an open red velvet book, the long hallway, Irises. He allows himself to enjoy the experience just as you send him a wink.

You’re like his own little gallery show standing in front of him. A piece of art he doesn’t just want to see–but memorize.

—

You’ve only been doing this for a few months now. It really is the perfect side hustle to support yourself while finishing your art degree. You’ve been enamored with Van Gogh’s art since you were a child, a lifelong dream realized when you were accepted into the student exchange program at the University of Amsterdam. You made it possible, and now, working two nights a week in between coursework, you're making more than most of your friends earn in an entire week. Of course, only a select few know what you really mean when you say you work at a very exclusive gallery.

It’s a good job. Maud takes good care of you, vetting those who enter her establishment with her keen client recruiters on the streets. Pieter is always a buzz away, though you’ve never felt danger. Everyone needs an escape, some just agree to pay a premium for it. They call it the oldest profession for a reason. 

Bravo. He’s your last customer tonight, and they sure did save the best for last. You watched him approach on the security camera, a smile formed when you noticed how much he resembled your favorite actor, you had plans for him. His wide shoulders, broad body, thin beard, and perfect head of hair almost made you think it was him, if it wasn’t for his eyes flickering around the room nervously. There’s no way Dieter Bravo would be anxious in this type of situation. 

You press play on the stereo. A quick drumbeat starts, your steps keep tempo with it as you come back to stand in front of your client.

Turning around and bending over, your hips dance to the beat of the song as your hands roam along your curves, lifting your dress to give him a peek of your thighs and ass. A low groan rumbles behind you.

“Do you like what you see?” you ask, slowly turning to face him, moving your hands up and down your body.

“Y-yes,” he stammers, his nervous eyes wide and plush lips parted. 

Those same nervous eyes watch as you bunch the fabric of your dress up and take it off, tossing it aside. He eyes you, brows furrowed in concentration, eyes exploring all of you like you’re a painting hanging in a gallery. 

You cup your breasts, feeling the velvety warmth of your skin beneath your fingers as the purple of your nail polish brushes against your hardened nipples. Slowly you tilt your head down and let a trail of spit fall to one nipple. 

“Do you wanna touch me?” you ask, pinching and pulling the sensitive peaks of your nipples. “Mmph–mmhmm,” he groans, nervously shuffling in his seat. 

Bending forward and placing your hands on his knees gives him the perfect view of your breasts. A long sigh comes from him, his eyes planted on your tits. You like what you’re doing to him, you never start your dances off this close to a client, but you can’t resist him.

When your hands trail up to his thick thighs, the bulge of his pants makes your mouth water, tempting you to move towards it. Not yet.

Leaning closer, you nuzzle against the warmth of his neck. He smells delicious… like eucalyptus and maple syrup. His quickening breaths puff out against your hair. You taste his skin with your tongue, licking your way up to his ear.

“Do you wanna touch me?” you ask along with the song.

“Y-yeah,” he stutters. 

Pulling away, you wink before turning your back to him and delicately sit atop his lap. Sinking down against his broad chest, the heat radiating off him burns hot against your back. The song changes just as you feel the poke of his erection against your ass.

A poppy beat soundtracks your movements as you grind yourself against the heft of him, falling back, placing your head against his wide chest. Reaching back, your hands tangle in his soft hair, humming sweetly along to the sound, letting a few lyrics slip out of your mouth.

“I bet you we’d really have good bed chem”

Your client follows directions very well, staying perfectly still, gripping the armrests so hard the golden skin around his knuckles turn white. You rub yourself against the rough fabric of his jeans, getting off on the quiet whimpers he leaves in your ear. 

RING. The fifteen minute bell rings.

“And I bet it’s even better than in my head”

You rise off his lap and bend over clasping your hands around your ankles, giving him the perfect view of your ass and dripping core. The song fades out, a deeper, sultrier drumbeat begins. 

“Like you, like you, ooh, I found it hard to find someone like you” 

Your body gently sways along to the slow, sultry beat, and when you flip your head back to glance at him, he lets a low groan out. Placing your hands on the floor, you walk them out ahead of you before you’re on all fours, spreading your legs wide to show him even more of your glistening pussy. 

“Do you wanna touch me?” you ask, settling on your stomach, snaking a hand between your wide spread legs. 

“Y-yes,” he huffs. 

“I know you do Bravo,” you tilt your hips up hovering them above the ground, “let me show you how I like it.”

Your middle finger enters your soaked entrance as your thumb gently dusts light circles against your clit. Your hips move in beat to the heavy rhythm of the song. 

“Oh god,” he pants, when you stick another finger in, the chair creaking underneath his tensity. 

RING. The ten minute bell rings.

Choreography, that’s the business term for what you’re doing. It’s all timed out, you hear these songs at least ten times every work day. Though you never sit on your clients as close as you did with Bravo, you never taste their skin like you did with Bravo. He deserves more than the same memorized steps, something better than the repetition you offer all of the others. 

The song changes, signaling you to start your new routine, you ignore the cue, rolling onto your back, arching slightly, your eyes meet his. His hands remain clamped on to the armrests, fingers digging into the velvet. He’s trembling with restraint, beads of sweat glistening on his skin. His erection swells, the tight fabric of his pants tenting. 

“Do you wanna touch me Bravo?”

“I do,” he whines, the lines of his neck straining as his head thuds against the back of the chair. 

“Okay, okay baby,” you sit up, turning to crawl towards him. Your eyes don’t leave his. 

“And I can be all the things you told me not to be

When you try to come for me, I keep on flourishing”

Kneeling on your knees in front of him, you unlock one of his clutched hands, moving it to the soft skin of your breast. 

“N-no touching I thought,” he stammers, his hand laying flat against your skin.

“I make my own rules, it’s okay Bravo,” you allow, grabbing his other hand and placing it on you.

He groans when he cups your breasts in his hands. You watch the tendons of his strong hand tense and release as he cups your breasts and massages them in his hold. He’s mesmerized by his movements, like he can’t believe you’re allowing him to touch you. 

Your hand teases its way up his leg to the warmth of the apex of his thighs before gripping him, thick and hard underneath the constraints of his jeans. 

“Oh fuck,” he growls. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re so beautiful.”

His words of adoration fall out of his mouth, eyes still locked on your tits covered by his hands. 

You unbuckle his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans as the choir sings God is a woman. 

The song changes.

“You got, you got the cinema”

Your eyes light at the sight of his cock, standing tall and thick, precum leaking from the engorged tip. It’s just as beautiful and wide as the rest of your client. 

Bravo lets out a garbled groan when you wrap your hand around his length, slowly pumping him along to the song. Up, down, up, down, the sexy beat soundtracking your movements. 

RING. RING. The five minute bell rings. Your client doesn’t seem to heed the warning, only focusing on his thumbs swiping back and forth against the peaks of your nipples and your hand stroking the smooth silk of his cock.

“Touch me Bravo,” you rise, lifting a foot up on the armrest, keeping hold of his pulsing dick in your hand. “Give me two of your fingers.” 

His eyes gaze down to your dripping cunt, watching himself as his hand sweeps down your body before parting your folds. 

You got, you got the cinema

You got, you got the cinema

Your hips undulate to the tempo of the song as he sticks two of his long, thick fingers into your heat. 

“God damn,” he mutters incredulously, “you’re so wet.”

The song changes. 

A steady and slow funky guitar plays along with a soulful choir. It’s soft and romantic, exactly what you like to close down your shows with. You’ve never ended a show like this, your hand wrapped around your client’s wide cock, and your pussy clenching around two of his thick fingers. His thumb begins sweeping back and forth against your clit, he may have found himself at a brothel in Amsterdam, but your client has done this before. Perfect movements, perfect angle, you stare down in reverie at the focus he holds, watching himself touch you. His adoration of your body heats your core, lighting an orgasm just as beautiful as the song that plays. 

“Fuck baby,” you pant, “I’m gonna cum.”

He blinks up to you, brown eyes staring intensely into yours when you bite your lip and send a gush of wet against his fingers. Your legs turn shaky, as your clit pulses against his thumb that blesses your sensitive bub with just the right amount of pressure. Moving his hand from between your thighs, he holds it up, marveling at the sight of your juices shining against his skin. You send him a smile as your leg drops to the floor, the rest of your body following, kneeling in front of him. He still stares at his hand, watching the strings of your orgasm stretch across his widely spread fingers. 

“Smear it on your cock for me,” you say, planting both hands on his thighs. 

He groans and nods before rubbing the remnants of your orgasm on his shaft. He shouts an indistinguishable sound when you lick a line up to his tip, tasting yourself and the salty tang of his precum. Your lips envelop the fat tip of him, sucking and slobbering your way down the thick length of him. 

The song ends, the playlist repeats. The same quick drumbeat of the first song plays loudly. 

You suck him to the beat, flicking your tongue against his tip with each “YEAH!” of the song.

RING. RING. RING. The final bells ring, signaling that your client should have left by now.

Bravo locks up. Your mouth unclasps from his cock.

“It’s okay,” you assure, “we have a word for–”

A heavy knock lands against the door. 

“Driehoek (triangle) Pieter! I’m good in here, thanks!”

Three rapid knocks–softer now–signal Pieter’s departure.

“You guys really have it all fig–oh god,” he moans, when you take his cock back into your mouth.  

His strong legs shake against your body as your cheeks hollow, taking him into your mouth faster and harder, his hips thrusting up to meet your mouth. Drool leaks out of the sides of your mouth, your eyes stare up at him blinking back tears as he reaches the back of your throat. You don’t know if he’s ever allowed himself this much freedom, it feels like you’ve unlocked something deep within him with the way he’s snarling and grunting “Irises” over and over.

“G-gonna–yeah–yeah–cum,” he gasps, hips stuttering and chair creaking as he spills into your accepting mouth. 

Bravo, client. Bravo.

—

He can’t believe he just did that. He just–he–he just– came in the mouth of a complete stranger–nay–a prostitute. You told him you’ve never done something like that with a client as you tossed him a towel… and the funny thing is he actually believes you. 

You shuffle back into the see through lilac dress as he zips his jeans back up. You really are the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, even if your purple eyeliner is now streaked from the tears that sprung in your eyes from gagging on his cock. Wow, that did just happen. 

You leave a kiss against his cheek and open the door for him. Pieter escorts him out the back entrance with a knowing smile. 

He walks back to his hotel, a new man with a clearer mind. Marcus really doesn’t feel the shame he expected he would. He knows a fine piece of art, and you just might be the finest he’s ever seen. 

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 1 - All in One Piece

A bad day gets infinitely worse.

WC: 2.5k

Masterlist | AO3

A/N: This fic will include a multitude of more intense kinks and fantasy themes such as watersports, heavy BDSM, forced painful eggpreg, bloodplay, knotting, non-human dicks, somnophillia, and of course considerable amounts of monster fucking. If you're not good with those, then this isn't the fic for you sorry! More tags will be added to A03 as the fic goes, so please see what's currently listed there before you start, but those are the tags I know for sure will be included that may deter some people. This one is for my freaks! (affectionate). It won't be as long as Wavelengths but this is definitely a longer series than Pitching Tents~

Cold dirty water leaked through the hole in your worn boot as you accidentally stepped in a puddle much deeper than you'd originally anticipated. You cursed to yourself and shook your foot uselessly, your socks were fucking drenched. An awful end to an awful day. Work had been fucking draining, and if one more customer asked if you could ‘check in the back’ you were going to start killing people. Ma'am, what fucking ‘back'? It's a damn boutique, we don't even have our own private toilet! The cherry on top was the classic Karen with that classic boomer lead poisoning stare who absolutely refused to leave when you were supposed to be finished ten minutes ago. You were about ready to hit her with the wooden sandwich chalkboard as you pulled it inside if she took one more fucking second. God, all this pent up anger was getting close to boiling over, you needed to get laid, bad. Ye olde silicone dick just wasn’t going to hit the spot tonight, even if you did have a fun new one shaped like an imagining of a dragon’s cock.

You opened your phone as you walked, music blasting in your ears, blocking out the sounds of the bustling rush hour city around you while you sighed to yourself and opened a dating app in utter despair. Swipe, swipe, swipe, oh a message, ew ugly dick pic no thanks, swipe, swipe. You were at least thankful that the rain had let up for your short walk home, but if one of these men didn't reply with enthusiasm to your need for a lay you were going to scream so loud they'd hear it at the city outskirts.

Swipe, swipe, sw-

Hang on.

What the fuck just happened.

Everything was so.

Dark.

Where did the lights of the city go? Was it a blackout, caused by the weather? The rain hadn’t been that bad today had it? A moment ago you'd seen the bright neon colours of illuminated billboards and shop displays reflecting in the scattered shallow puddles, the red of the no crossing pedestrian light, the bright headlights of an oncoming bu-

Oh.

Oops.

You got hit by a bus didn't you? God fucking dammit. Well that's fucking annoying. A real fucking inconvenience to be honest.

But hey, no time to think about that, because all of a sudden it's so bright your eyes have to squint to see, and with all the force of a body that was… just hit by a bus… you were soaring horizontally through the air. It was dark again but this time… just your body? Something encompassed you, shiny and metallic, a dark reflective surface covering what you could see of your skin. Something hit your back hard, or maybe you hit it? There was a crack of wood splintering from somewhere behind you and you slumped down, sitting against… a deck? Your head throbbed with ache but you seemed to be in one piece, blinking at your surroundings to try and figure out what had happened, where you had landed. Against some sort of food truck maybe? Directly under a bright streetlight? Surely that would explain it. Voices were calling out around you, the vibrations of heavy, frantic footsteps over wood able to be felt where your hands touched the ground, but you couldn't hear anything except the buzzing in your ears, like white noise turned up far too loud, your eyes having trouble focusing through the bright light.

Something warm closed around your neck and you were dragged to stand, then further, your feet hovering above the ground as you choked, pressed against something solid behind you. You blinked again. No, that can't be right? Must be a dream, hopefully a sexy one, you must have been knocked unconscious. Scarlet red hair sticking up like a wildfire, squared googles worn like a headband, thick eyeliner, lips painted in the same shade as his hair. Oh please, please, please let this be a sexy dream. No scars though, curious. Pre timeskip then? His mouth was moving but you still couldn't hear, ah, not quite a completely detailed dream you guessed. Lucid though? Your ability to scan your eyes down at will told you perhaps yes. Ah, there it is, two flesh arms, yup we're going pre timeskip. Just as well, you'd never been keen on the idea of the metal arm touching you; a strong, calloused, fleshy hand would feel far nicer on your body.

You vaguely registered the brief feeling of weightlessness as you were pulled away from the strong thing behind you and slammed back again. The mast perhaps? Ow, that one kinda hurt. I think? Surely not, it's a dream. His mouth was moving again, but this time words were starting to form, the fog of the white noise slowly fading to a more bearable hum.

“-re you doing on my fucking ship?” He barked, flicks of spittle splashing against your face.

You blinked again, hmm, could you talk in this dream? No time like the present to try I guess?

“Tryna get laid?” You coughed, your voice strained from the hand around your throat. Something unrecognisable flashed in his eyes. Anger? Confusion? He leaned back a little to pull something from his bandolier, his grip on your neck loosening for a moment before being replaced by something sharp and cold, metallic perhaps? It was hard to tell from the thin edge.

“Wanna try that one again little mouse?” He gave you a toothy grin, his canines sharp and dangerous, and something about the dark look in his amber eyes sent a shiver down your spine. Fear or lust, you weren't sure, both perhaps? “I'll put it in plain words: What. Are. You. Doing. On. My. Fucking. Ship?”

Hmmm, prisoner turned lover type scenario huh? You'd read more than your fair share of fanfiction, your best bet to getting this sexy dream to go somewhere was act confident, right? What was he gonna do, kill you? It's just a dream anyway. Probably a weird coma dream, given the bus. Oh, maybe you'd be one of those crack medical cases of people who live a whole life in their coma dream. Shout out to your brain for picking this world to live it out in, you wondered if the machines on the outside would beep with a heighted heart rate every time one of these pirates fucked you in the dream. You wiggled your toes to check you were in control, all systems go captain, initiate stage one of ‘badass bitch gets laid’. You swung your legs up and wrapped them around his waist, and his brows, or lack thereof, shot up in surprise.

“Did I stutter, captain?” You purred, “You are the big bad captain of the Kid Pirates, correct? I thought a guy like you would be overjoyed to be presented with a hot, willing lay, or do you prefer to pay for those services?”

Someone coughed out a wheezed laugh, it sounded strained and suppressed. Ah, Killer must be nearby. Well, at least if Kid hated your jokes maybe you could turn your attention to the masked man, he was your favourite afterall.

“So what, you just crashed onto my ship outta butt fuck nowhere, naked as the day you were born, for a quick fuck?” Kid scowled, “How did you get here? Devil fruit?”

“Uh, I think I got hit by a bus actually,” you pondered, able to speak a little easier now that his hand wasn't so tight on your throat, though the metal was still pressed to it, some sort of knife you assumed. “Hang on, did you just say I'm naked?”

“Are you stupid?” Kid squinted. He let you go all of a sudden and you fell to the deck with an unceremonious thump. Ow, that one definitely hurt. “Kil, throw her overboard, if she ain't gonna talk we'll prove for ourselves she has a fruit, fish her out before she drowns too much though, she's interesting. I wanna know how she got here”

You turned to the quiet footsteps of the approaching first mate, in his button up polka dot shirt. Cute. You gave him a sweet smile but he ignored it, scooping you up, throwing you over his shoulder, and absolutely yeeting the shit out of you straight into the drink.

Icy water closed in around you as your body dropped down several metres under the surface at the impact. You felt no exhaustion though, no pull of the deep. Well, at least now you knew there was no devil fruit for you in this dream, too bad, it'd be sick to turn into a big fuck off bear or something. Sighing internally, you swam your way back to the surface, doing your best Little Mermaid impression and flicking your hair back as you broke through to air. Several scowling faces looked down at you from the deck, and you bobbed awkwardly in the gentle waves, staring back up at them. Fuck it was cold, could someone put a blanket over your comatosed ass irl please? Jeez.

“Uh, can someone help me up?” You shouted up to the ship, “I'm not a good climber”. Honestly, you weren't a bad climber, you were just sure this was gonna turn into one of those running but getting nowhere situations if you tried.

Kid let out a tsk and suddenly heavy chains were wrapping around you, enclosing around your neck and nearly hanging you as they pulled you back to deck, dropping you back to the wood with a wheeze.

“That wasn't-” you let out a choked cough, “that wasn't very nice of you. This dream sucks, actually”

“Dream?” Killer asked. Oh god his voice was even better in person. But it sounded more to the pitch of the Japanese voice actor, hang on did that mean you were speaking Japanese? Dreams are weird man.

“Yeah I mean..” you looked up at him, crossing your legs, not bothering to cover your nude body. What did it matter, this was just like one of those giving a presentation in school kinda dreams, but nudity had never bothered you. “I got hit by a bus, so this is just some weird coma dream. Sucks though, usually they're sexy by now. What a disappointment”

“Yeah? You have sex dreams about us often?” Kid smirked.

“You, not so much,” Kid's smirk very quickly turned to a frown and he looked like he was gonna hang you again, “aye, easy big guy, they exist, I just prefer dreaming about Killer or Heat is all”

Someone nearby choked on air, and there was the audible sound of a palm slapping a back and the faint whisper of “get it to-fucking-gether Heat, fuck”

“Anyway, this dream sucks,” you hummed, stretching out your legs, bored, “so either make with the orgy or turn into a face eating demon or some shit so I spook awake, I'm bored.”

Kid rushed towards you, knife still in hand, and you wondered for a split second if he was actually going to do one of the two, before the piercing pain of a knife through your rib cage cut right through that line of thinking. It was searing, white hot like you were being branded from the inside out, you'd broken your arm once but this might have hurt more. Your world stopped for a moment before you let out a blood curdling scream that forced those closest pirates to you to cover their ears, and you gagged and as you looked down at the knife sticking out of you.

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” you finally stuttered as your scream settled, your throat sore and strained, pained tears rolling down your cheeks, “that hurts. Oh god, oh god, not a dream, not a fucking dream”

“No fucking shit, dumb cow,” Kid reached for the knife and you smacked his hand away, holding the hilt protectively.

“Don't fucking touch it, asshat” you bit, “oh fuck what if you got something important, just my fucking luck I get fucking isekai'd to the resident ship of the Grandline's biggest fucking asshole and now I'm gonna die again. Twice in one day, that's gotta be a record for sure.” Kid growled and tried to pull the knife with his powers, but once again your hands turned metallic and held the hilt steady. Realisation hit you like a… bus… hmmm, too soon?

“Oh, fuck yeah, HAKI!” you yelled triumphantly, “I always knew I was a strong willed bitch, ha, take that Captain Stupid Pants!”

You lifted a hand to flip him off. Ah, well, you'd never claimed to be smart. Moving your hand halved the strength against his pull, and the dagger shook and yanked itself out from your chest.

“Now who's stupid?” He smirked, dangling the dagger as he squatted in front of you, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Okay, admittedly, maybe me,” you would probably laugh if it didn't hurt so damn much. “Hey, what if I make you a deal, I'll uhh… I'll let you freeuse me if you let me live”

“Back at it again with the sex! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Kid yelled.

“A lot, probably,” you sighed, blood pouring freely from between your fingers. You squinted at Kid before reaching forward and yanking his sash off, “gimme that.” Much to his dismay, you pressed the fabric to your wound to slow the bleeding, though the effects of blood loss were quickly becoming apparent. “Cute that you wear each other's colours,” you mumbled drowsily, holding the royal blue sash to your wound, which was quickly turning a dark red as your blood soaked into it. “Whoops, looks like it's your colour now though, Kiddo. Hey, before I die, can someone tell me how Heat's fire breathing works?”

“Really? Minutes to live and that's what you wanna know?” Kid frowned.

“Call me curious,” you gave him a drunk looking smile, “they never explained it in the manga”

“Who the fuck is they?” Kid tilted his head curiously, “and what the fuck is manga?”

“It's like a comic book, boss,” Heat spoke up. Ha, you always had him pegged as a fucking weeb.

Life was quickly draining from you, red spilling out over the wooden deck, your eyelids drooping more with every minute. If this was real, a thought occurred to you. Maybe there was a real reason behind this. Maybe you really were dead, and this was some sort of test to be a guardian angel or some shit. Alternate universe type deal, perhaps all fiction was just flickers of a view into another universe. Deep. Ah, no time to really ponder that thought though. You let go of the sash to grab Kid's arm with a weak, blood drenched hand.

“Don't- don't fight Shanks,” you mumbled, “and don't make an alliance with Apoo or Hawkins. And don't-” your head spun as you tried to push out the most important stuff, “don't let Killer eat the SMILE fruit”

The last thing you saw was a look of confusion on Kid's pale face, before everything spun and once again you were tossed into darkness. But hey, at least you weren't wearing wet socks anymore.

[Next Chapter]

Taglist: @chershire23 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth