#Pocket Stamps for Office

[doglover502]

Not the best week to be away from my drawing tablet

Adjacent to @pikavani’s Office AU and the ask cause this immediately came to mind when I saw it

I don’t think Zooble would tattoo someone that's clearly drunk, but Jax is a special case, and this has probably come up in more than once over after work drinks so they were like “alright fine I’ll do it”

[tgirlwithreverb]

I saw that post about what to do if you're homeless again (the one that starts by telling you to spend all of your money on motel rooms lmao) anyway, here's a few thoughts, specifically for trans girls, cuz I don't really care otherwise tbh:

1) plan ahead, most trans girls are in precarious housing situations, you will have a much easier time when it falls apart if you already have a pack with most of the gear you need in it. Also, if you find yourself in a situation where you cant make rent, dont pay part of it, spend that money on gear, pocket the rest and leave, youll have a much nicer time. Look up your local eviction laws, you have plenty of time. (Gear list at the end)

2) travel! If you're in Arizona in May, leave. it's about to be hot as hell. If you're in Michigan in October, leave. It's about to be cold as hell. If you're in a big city, leave. It's way easier to be homeless pretty much anywhere else. Amtrak is cheaper and more comfortable than greyhound, hitchhiking is free and easy, if you're alone it's not that much slower than the previous two, and it's more fun, and sometimes people buy you food or whatever or give you money. I promise it's not scary and you're entirely capable of doing it, no matter who you are. 95+% of people who will pick you up are very nice. All you have to do is take the bus out of town, as far down the highway you can, to an exit with a truck stop if possible, then just stand on the side of the road with your thumb out until someone picks you up. You can stand at the bottom of the ramp(on the highway) near where the merge lane ends or at the top of the ramp(where there's usually a traffic light), the former is more likely to lead to cop interactions but will maybe get you a ride faster, check on hitchwiki for how the cops are in the area. don't be afraid to take a commuter bus or Amtrak to get out of a shitty cop area

3) skip shelters if you can (they are very occasionally a decent place to get stuff from) and encampments, good places to sleep include the trees near railroad tracks or highways, wooded areas behind shopping centers, sections of parks without paths, overgrown empty lots. Hang a tarp above you if there's an appreciable chance of rain, there's tons of YouTube tutorials on how to do this, maybe I'll make a post about what I usually do some day. There are many habits more fun than motel rooms, save your money for them lmao.

4) get on food stamps. This is easier in some places than others, but it makes the whole thing a lot easier. Just tell them you're homeless, if they don't give you a card the same day, you can probably ask to pick it up from that office, alternatively some drop in centers/day shelters can receive mail for you, or you can have it sent to general delivery(USPS service, look it up)

7) libraries are great for charging your phone and using wifi, but also keep an eye out, plenty of random outlets on the outsides of buildings are also powered

5) dumpster. sidewalk trash cans, Aldi, Einstein's, trader Joe's, pizza places, etc. You need to develop a bit of a sense for it but it's an easy way to get cooked food or travelling food or expensive food without spending resources. Also it's fun.

6) water is free, go into the bathroom of any gas station or grocery store in America(offer not valid in most big cities or on the west coast, but in that case just go to the library) and fill up your water bottle

8) hygiene notes: truckers get free showers from chain truck stops(loves, pilot/flying j) go there and ask them. convenient if you're hitchhiking, also you don't need to shower 3 times a day, really, you'll survive. Ditto with deodorant. Take care of your teeth though. Take your socks off every. day. Change them consistently. Safety razors give a good shave, work well without adequate water pressure, and the replacement blades are very stealable, they're kind of heavy though. Walmart makes these electric razors for women that take AA batteries and are pretty light but give a worse shave, also they kinda go through batteries, pick whatever works for you(cartridge razors suck)

9) traveling food notes: peanut butter is great, tortillas and bagels travel pretty well, tuna packets are pretty good protein for traveling(the ones with rice and beans or whatever are nice since theyre often the same price as the regular), condiment packets are free, hot sauce makes everything better, and mayo goes well with tuna and has a bunch of calories in it, salad dressing packets are free from truck stops and work well turning the Walmart shredded vegetable packages (labeled for making into slaw, next to the bagged salads) into a salad with real vegetables(not iceberg lettuce) in it or mixing in with tuna packets for even more calories than mayo

Gear world:

Necessary items(in order of importance): a gallon of water carrying capacity(an Arizona jug or other twist top jug is conventional, but a bladder+arizona bottles also works), a tarp(larger than 6'x9', not brightly colored), a hank of parachord, a sleeping bag (20° rated, synthetic insulation), a backpack with a padded hip belt(at least 50L, no more than 75), rain gear(a rain poncho might cover your pack too, a rain jacket can help with wind when its cold, a trash bag inside or outside your pack can keep it dry, a plan to watch the weather and not get caught also works), a z-fold foam sleeping pad, three pairs of socks, two pairs of underwear (at least one pair of boxer breifs strongly recommended if you arent incredibly skinny), a decent pair of shoes with good arch support, a functional jacket(skip if you got a rain jacket before), a base layer(wool or poly, absolutely no cotton)

Convenient items: a sleeping bag liner(cotton free, keeps you warm in winter and cool in summer), gallon zip locks to pack your stuff in(helps keep it dry and organized), no more than one change of clothes(as light as possible), a multi-tool(can opener, pliers, wire cutter), lighter(burning rope ends etc), spoon, floss and needles for patching

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You and your kind of ex-wife

Lips smashed against yours before you could even compute what was going on.

They were still as soft as ever and you opened your own so Alexia could slip her tongue inside.

"Hi," She said, pulling away slowly.

"Hi."

You smiled at her.

She looked nearly the same as when you divorced her and left the country. The same cheeks. The same nose. The same eyes. The same awkward little smile on her face.

“I missed you,” She said,” I heard from Alba you were coming home and I couldn’t believe it. I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Ale.”

Her arms were open and you stepped into them. They were just as familiar as they were when you broke up and you melted into them now.

“Sorry,” Someone said,” What the fuck?! Alexia, you’re dating now?!”

Both you and Alexia looked at Mapi in confusion.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because you just started snogging her in front of all of us,” Lucy replied, hands shoved into her pockets casually,” I thought we were meant to be meeting the new medic but, no, I guess you were really getting acquainted.”

You laughed, shaking your head fondly as Alexia pouted, her arms tightening around you just like they did years ago when Alba teased you for being mushy.

“She’s my wife,” Alexia insisted, stamping her foot.

“Ex-wife,” You butted in quickly as the team’s mouths fell open in shock. Very few of them had been on the team the same time you and Alexia had been married, childhood sweethearts that eloped the day after you both turned eighteen.

Alexia laughed nervously and you narrowed your eyes.

You recognised that laugh. You’d heard that laugh for years when she pretended to a teacher that her homework was just in her locker and that’s why she hadn’t handed it in or when she promised Eli that she wasn’t the one that broke her favourite glass cabinet and it was really her who had kicked a football right through it.

You knew that laugh very well.

“Alexia,” You said, teeth gritted,” What did you do?”

“Now, amor,” She said,” Just remember that-“

“Alexia, confess!”

“I may have forgotten to file the papers.”

“Alexia!” You snapped before sighing. A bubble of laughter emerged from your throat until you were trapped in an almost hysterical laughing fit. “We signed them together. At the kitchen table. How did you forget?”

“I promise I was going to!” She insisted,” But I had other stuff to do and it just got buried and Mama did some cleaning and she must have shredded them on accident!”

“Alexia, that was years ago! Are you saying that we’re still married?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On which answer will get me in trouble.”

Fondly, you tugged on her ponytail. “You are so lucky I love you.”

She grinned. “Enough to stay married?”

You shrugged. “Well, it’s a hassle to file the papers and work out the separation of assets again.”

“Oh, thank god.” Alexia fished something out of her pocket and it was only when she slid it onto your finger again that you recognised it as your wedding ring. She was the one that had bought them and while you knew that hers had remained on a chain around her neck, you hadn’t ever wondered what had happened to yours after you returned it.

You just assumed it had been thrown to the bottom of her jewellery box.

“Have you been carrying that around since you found out I was coming home?”

Like a professional, she skirted around your question. “Home! You need to move in again! The clothes you left all got put into a storage locker so we should probably swing by there after work. Your office is practically the same but kind of dusty so I’ll clean it up while you unpack.”

You nodded, mulling over the plan in your head. “You know that if I have back in then so does Mr Stinky.”

Alexia wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You still have him?”

“Yes, Ale! Just because I moved to England doesn’t mean I abandoned my cat!”

She pursed her lips before admitting. “I think there’s still a few of his toys under the sofa. I can never manage to get them all.”

“And I want the left side of the bathroom sink.”

She nodded before freezing. “Hey! Wait, no! That’s my side! That’s always been my side! You can’t just take it!”

You flashed your ring. “You want this to work? I want the left side of the sink.”

“Well…I want…I want…I want the right side of the dresser!”

“Done!”

“Done!”

“Sorry, no,” Mapi butted in. You’d almost forgotten that you were meant to be introducing yourself to the team. “Not done. Let me get this straight. You two got married, divorced but not really and now you’ve decided to get back together?!”

You shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“But you divorced!” It was clear that she was struggling to wrap her head around this.

“It wasn’t really a breakup though,” Alexia said flippantly,” We still hooked up every time she came home. We only really tried to get a divorce because she was leaving for England. I was clingy when I was younger.”

The whole team pointedly stared at Alexia’s hands on your waist and how they hadn’t moved but to put your ring back on your finger.

“Clingier,” You amended,” And I needed to leave for more money. We decided it would just be easier to get divorced but I guess that didn’t work out.”

“Oh!” Alexia said suddenly,” I need to tell Mama! She’ll be so happy! She’s always talking about you to everyone.”

“Oh, I’m glad. I’ll have to call my Mama too. She’s always telling people that her daughter-in-law is Alexia Putellas. You’ll have to come to Sunday lunch this week. My aunts and uncles will be there.”

“Next week we’ll go to mine then,” Alexia agreed,” Mama will want you to try her paella again. She tweaked the recipe.”

“Oh, great! I love Eli’s paella. My-“

“No!” Mapi said, pointing at both of you in turn,” This is moving so quickly. I’m sorry but what the hell?!”

“Oh,” You said,” I didn’t introduce myself properly. I’m y/n. I’m the new doctor on the team. Alexia’s…well I was going to say ex but apparently we’re still married so I’m Ale’s wife! I look forward to getting to know you all.”

[kurooh]

PLAYING DANGEROUS ★ N. KENTO

⊹ ₊˚. OCTOBER 4TH. seven minutes in heaven doesn’t seem like all that until you end up in a tight closet with an officer who’s had his eyes on you all night.

warnings ★ 18+ content — mdni, f! reader, everyone is above 21, oral sex [m receiving], deepthroating, light role play, alcohol, crying, light satosugu, wc is 3.1k

xoxo, juno ★ this was bootyhole but it was the first fic of the month 💔 next week will hopefully be better

🎃 LIFE OF THE PARTY MLIST.

since you’d arrived to the party with your friends from jujutsu tech—shoko and utahime—you’d felt someone’s eyes on you. as you stood with a red solo cup in hand, talking with your friends, you’d gotten goosebumps a few times on your rather exposed skin . .

the three of you had chosen to dress as the plastics from the mean girls, some costumes more showy than others. shoko had opted to wear karen’s mouse costume, with some black tights to match the look better. utahime wore gretchen’s black cat costume, the black suit loose on her and adjusted to cover her collarbone area more to her liking. between the two of them, you were the star of the show — pink bunny ears glittering on your head, tits pushed up and over the hem of the top, the bottom part of the suit tight on your ass and cut high on the sides of your thighs. honestly, you really hadn’t meant to wear something this revealing; there were issues with shipping and handling, resulting in a smaller size of the costume arriving just before the party.

“girls!” utahime whines, looking left and right at the people drinking and dancing. “what should we do first? it’s too loud over here!”

“what?” shoko calls, even though the three of you are standing right beside one another. “utahime, i can’t hear you.”

you and shoko share a giggle when utahime stamps her foot on the ground, grabs your wrists, and tugs you over to a sitting area, away from the music. your drink nearly sloshes over the rim of the cup and spills onto your chest. someone dressed in a police officer costume shoots you an indistinguishable look just as you save it. their eyes are an olive green, the rest of their features hidden by the party lights and their costume. once you sit down altogether, utahime lets out a huff.

“i said, what should we do?”

“drink and dance,” you answer immediately, tossing your cup back and taking a swig of your drink. it stings a little as it goes down. what was it again? some kind of fruity concoction with all kinds of liquor mixed by the frat boys from inarizaki college or something.

“but that drink is nasty!” she complains, wrinkling her nose as you offer her the cup.

“i need a smoke break,” shoko sighs deeply, fumbling around in her pocket.

“shoko, we’ve been here for less than fifteen minutes,” you remind her, patting her arm before utahime launches into an anti-smoking lecture. “at least wait a little longer, then i’ll come with you.”

she rolls her eyes, squeezing the box hard as she pushes it back into her pocket. “fine. let’s get some drinks and try to dance then, yeah?”

the three of you shuffle back to the dance floor, pushing past the drunk people and couples making out to get to the table of bottles.

“want me to mix you something up, utahime?” a jujutsu tech student whose voice you’ve heard before is mischievous and teasing. judging by the way utahime slams the bottle of vodka down on the table, it’s definitely that gojo she’s always ranting about.

“get out, gojo!” she snaps, extending her arm and pointing towards the other side of the crowd. he disappears into the crowd with a cackle, and the three of you return to pouring and filling your cups. you take a gulp of your drink, pulling the cup away from your lips with a gasp, surprised by the burn in your throat and slightly sickening after taste.

“you alright?” comes a deep voice from behind you, and a person is offering you a sealed bottle of water. you turn quickly, almost bare ass brushing against a strong body.

“y-yeah, thanks,” you say appreciatively, looking up into the face you’d seen earlier. at this point, you’re sure that this is a man you’ve seen somewhere before; maybe you’d heard about him from utahime and shoko?

you shake the feeling off, flashing the officer a smile before turning away to invite your friends onto the dance floor. it takes utahime some time to warm up, taking careful sips from her drink and sticking close to shoko, who sways lightly to the music, probably thinking about her upcoming smoke break.

as you dance, spinning occasionally to the music, you can’t seem to stop noticing that officer from earlier. he’s always standing in a corner somewhere, or he’s talking to his friends without focusing on them, clearly caught up with you and your costume.

“shoko!” calls a relaxed voice you manage to hear over the music, and then all three of you are walking over to the sitting area again. “been calling you for a while, c’mon now.”

“what’s up, geto?” she asks tiredly, tugging her cigarette box from her pocket and catching the lighter he tosses her.

“well, i—”

“knock it off, gojo,” the tall officer pushes gojo from earlier off him, sending him tumbling into geto. his dark hair is long and neatly arranged to go with his costume.

“suguru!” gojo shouts, clearly drunk as he clings to the front of geto’s costume. “thank goodness you caught me, nanami’s being so rude! i just suggested we could play seven minutes in heaven.”

“is that right?” he laughs, nudging gojo off and sitting on the couch, then gesturing for the police officer to take a seat too. gojo sits down quickly, much to the officer’s obvious disdain.

“idiots,” utahime huffs, shaking her head and making her cat ears wiggle. she looks over to a smoking shoko and fans the plumes out of the air. “don’t you agree?”

“of course, utahime,” she replies, nudging you lightly. she introduces you to the men, who all wave politely, besides the officer, who carefully looks at you.

“nanami’s not a big fan of parties,” gojo says, sticking his tongue out and rifling around for a beer bottle on the floor. he comes back with something half full and sucks the remaining liquid down, then triumphantly places it in the center of the coffee table.

nanami looks to the side, the brim of his cop hat obscuring his eyes. “i’m not interested.”

“come onnnn, nanami,” gojo whines, staring hard, blue eyes wide open in an effort to convince him. “you probably won’t get picked anyway!”

you stifle a giggle at that, and nanami looks away further, crossing a leg over another. but he can’t resist looking from the corner of his eye when gojo spins the bottle and it lands on his friend beside him. geto smiles softly as a drunk gojo yanks him over to the closet nearby, then pushes him inside first.

“those two,” shoko shakes her head, taking a drag on her cigarette. “gojo’s so embarrassing when he’s drunk.”

“uh, hey,” you rise from your seat beside the girls and awkwardly sit beside nanami, who graces you with eye contact that makes you sweat all over. “i just wanted to say thanks for the water when i was choking earlier.”

“it’s no problem,” he says politely, slightly glancing down at your chest and the rest of your body although he fights hard not to.

your cheeks warm and you clear your throat, folding your hands on top of your thighs. “so, you’re from jujutsu tech?”

“i am,” he affirms, making no move to say anything more.

you really hope you don’t get nanami in the game. a few minutes later, gojo and geto come back from the closet, laughing hysterically.

“did you desecrate the closet so we don’t have to play anymore?” shoko asks sarcastically, putting out her cigarette in a nearby ashtray that utahime holds for her.

geto can’t stop cackling, gasping between each one and gripping his chest. “oh my god! satoru got in the closet, tripped, and banged his head on the wall so hard he—”

everyone starts to laugh and geto struggles to finish his story while gojo takes a seat beside nanami to listen. “h-he made the lightbulb fall down and it broke, so now it’s just dark. we spent all the time cleaning up the glass for you guys.”

gojo claps his hands loudly, the flush on his cheeks spreading down his neck. “ahem!” he clears his throat obnoxiously and points at the coffee table and beer bottle. “nanami, ‘s your turn.”

“i said i’m not interested,” the officer bites, and gojo groans loudly, annoyed.

“convince him!”

everyone but nanami collectively laughs, and geto starts up with that lighthearted and breezy tone of his. “nanami, i’m sure you’ll end up having fun.”

shoko offers a smile, “i don’t like parties any more than you do and yet i’m playing.”

“fine,” he grumbles, snatching the beer bottle from a cheering gojo and putting it down on the table. glass moves against glass as nanami spins it hard; it goes around the table a few times before slowing on utahime, who desperately chants no no no! to everyone’s surprise, including your own, it stops on you.

you look up from the bottle and nanami does too, then you both slowly stand and start to walk over to the closet. you’re trailing behind the officer and looking back nervously.

“good luck,” shoko salutes you, taking a shot from utahime’s cup in your honor.

“thanks,” you nod, slowly following the officer to the closet, padding along the floor silently. a chill pinpricks down your spine as he holds the door open for you, allowing you to walk into the dark closet first. nanami shuffles in beside you, clearing his throat as his body brushes against yours.

“hi,” you say, swallowing nervously. it’s loud enough for nanami to hear, and he raises an eyebrow in the dark. “ah, i didn’t expect to end up in here together.”

“you’d rather be with gojo?” nanami scoffs, sounding insulted although he softens at your frantic response.

“oh my god, no! absolutely not, i was thinking of shoko or something.”

nanami genuinely laughs, leaning back against the wall with a tired sigh. “he forced me to come along, you know. i wanted to stay in the dorms and watch movies or something.”

“well, now you’re here,” you say, hands smoothing over the front of your costume. “might as well play the game, huh? this is supposed to be seven minutes in heaven.”

“i don’t mind talking,” nanami answers, shifting his body. there’s a metallic jingling sound that comes from his waist, which piques your curiosity.

“what’s that?” you ask, nodding towards his waist. he can’t see you, but understands you nonetheless.

“oh, they’re handcuffs,” he pulls them from their holder and swings them on a finger. “supposed to go along with my costume, i guess.”

“do they work?”

“i don’t know, i haven’t tried them.”

your body burns hot as the words leave your mouth, “put them on me and let’s see if they do.” where is this suggestion even coming from? you couldn’t blame this on the drinking, not when you’ve maintained sober conversation for as long as you have.

nanami laughs loudly, before realizing how serious you are. “shit, you’re serious?”

“i am if you are.”

“if we can’t get these off, it’ll be hell to explain,” nanami warns, before you turn around and offer your hands. the cool metal goes onto your wrists easily, clicking as he locks them. now he’s the one swallowing, his mouth suddenly dry as he realizes the dirty implication. you’re close enough to see each other even though it’s dark, and his olive eyes catch yours for a single moment.

“i swear i’m a good girl, officer,” you tease with a glossy pout, leaning in close enough to his face that he can smell the sweet scents of your lip product and perfumed skin. nanami’s quick to play along, even against his better judgment. you’re real pretty and easy to get carried away thinking about . . he can’t help but feel his cock squeeze in his pants.

“typically good girls aren’t in handcuffs,” he clicks his tongue, fighting back a smile.

“these are tight, officer,” you whine, turning around and pressing your ass into him rather confidently. nanami’s breath hitches in his throat and he allows himself to ghost his fingers along your wrists and the cool metal that binds them together.

“i’m afraid i can’t let you go.”

“no rings on your fingers?” you ask, segueing into a question about his status before you push him further. “ever thought of messing around with a bunny girl?”

“no, work is my focus,” nanami replies smoothly, choosing to let himself enjoy the moment. “and no, i didn’t, not until i met you.”

you giggle, pushing against him. “i need a yes or a no.”

“yes,” he groans, hips twisting against your body; you feel his hard on through ironed pants, pressing into your bare thighs. “wait a minute, you’re the one in cuffs here. you should be begging me to let you go.”

“i don’t need my hands to show you why you should let me go.” your voice is flirty and unashamed, words practically dripping with a sweetness so intoxicating he’s giving in without another word.

“you’re fucking filthy, aren’t you? go ahead and show me why you should be free, girl.”

it all happens fast — before he can register just what’s happening, you’re on your knees in front of him, tugging at his belt with your teeth. he’s extremely impressed, watching through squinted eyes as you tug on the leather and get it out of the buckle.

“a little help, officer?” you lean your head against his thigh, bunny ears slipping back and off your head.

“i thought you didn’t need your hands,” nanami challenges, undoing his belt and letting it hang from his pants. “the rest is all you, princess.”

with your teeth, you tug on his pants and then yank until the button’s undone. you bite down on the zipper and pull it down, then grab onto the hem of his pants and pull it to his knees, all with only your mouth. by the end of it, nanami’s left panting, heaving for air to the point where he has to unbutton his shirt.

you’re good, aren’t you? nanami is speechless.

his gray boxers are next, tight on his hard cock and outlining it deliciously. as they come off, his cock bounces out and almost hits you in the face. you audibly gasp, saliva pooling in your mouth.

is it possible for a dick to look this delicious?

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you assure him, slipping out of character for a moment as you look up at him genuinely. “your cock just looks so good.”

“show me what you mean.”

as you go in towards his tip, he tenses and lifts his cock expectantly, clearing his throat wordlessly. his balls are rounded nicely and feel heavy as you take them into your mouth with a moan, sucking lightly at them and running your tongue along the sensitive skin.

“that’s a good start,” nanami huffs, hips nearly bucking into your face.

from there, you run your tongue along the underside of his cock until you’re at his tip and taking him inside your mouth in one fluid movement.

“god— fuck,” nanami chokes on his words, groaning loudly and biting down onto his lip to quiet himself immediately afterwards. “shit, take it deeper.”

sticky slick pools in your underwear, and you clench up hard the second his palm touches the back of your head and pushes forward forcefully. you’ve got stars in your eyes and so does he as his cock presses deeper into your throat, tip hitting the back of it and making you choke.

“a mouth like this,” he tosses his head back and it lands with a soft thump against the wall, “deserves to be thoroughly fucked.”

nanami’s fingers twist in your hair tightly, and he holds you in place as he fucks his cock down your throat. you choke, tears making your eyes glassy, and you shake a little as you look up at him.

“you can take it.”

even though his cock is absolutely stuffing your throat and blocking off your air supply, his words are trustworthy. you’d made it this far, hadn’t you?

your throat bulges from the size of his cock, stretching out to accommodate his size eagerly. something about being used like this is fulfilling, in a way; it’s rough and satisfying in the best ways possible.

above you, nanami tears his shirt open further, buttons flying every which way from the force. he’s groaning, body sweltering with heat and muscles taut with tension and focus. it’s almost primal, the way he yanks you up by the hair and uses your throat, chasing the orgasm like a dragon.

“fuuuck,” he lets out, watching as tears and mascara rush down your cheeks and make dark tracks on your skin. “you’re a real good girl—hey now, stay still.” you gurgle something, bubbly spit rushing down your chin and dripping onto your chest.

“don’t worry, princess,” his voice is gravelly as he reassures you, his eyes rolling back while yours close in preparation. “i-i’m gonna cum soon, okay?”

nanami feels you open your mouth wider, hears the clink of the handcuffs as you push closer to him. he can feel the cum fill his cock with pressure as it rises to his tip; he pounds out his orgasm in your throat, hips banging into your face and stuttering when he finally falls over the edge. he’s too deep for you to taste the cum, and you only feel its warmth as you greedily swallow it all, moaning quietly at the sensation. his cock leaves your mouth with a pop, a glossy string of spit connecting his tip with your lips.

“don’t look at me like that,” nanami’s voice is shaky as he lifts your chin and closes his eyes when he sees your face, “it makes me want to fuck your throat again.”

“do you get it now, officer?” you rasp, throat sore. “feeling better?”

“yes and yes,” a breathless laugh and he’s leaning in to give you a kiss. nanami’s lips barely brush against yours when you’re both startled by the bang of the door slamming open.

“we totally forgot about you guys!” gojo shouts, before seeing what’s really in front of him.

[contamination-zone]

nother fic yayyy

contains: platonic fresh and nightmare. Cuddling. Joint pain [for fresh :<] ~1,000 words

He was back, smarmy grin on his face and eyewateringly bright outfit everywhere else. It contrasted heavily with the deep well of suffering emanating from “his” SOUL.

An oxymoron; the only way Nightmare could describe it. 

Still, negativity was negativity, no matter how… colorful the package was. 

“Exited to see lil old me bro?”

“Hardly.”

It laughed, the noises all bright neons in the air. Enthusiasm mixing with cruelty. It wasn’t as cheery as usual.

“Lierrrr!” 

Within barely a second it was closer than he’d usually let anyone, crowding into his space and almost looming. Terribly reminded of a  cat greeting its owner, Nightmare didn’t think to refute  it.

It seemed one of them was thinking of his answer though, Fresh letting out a victorious crow when he didn’t immediately snarl an insult.

“You did, didn’t ya? We love ta’ see bonds between bros, bro!” 

As if it wasn’t close enough, it pressed against his side. He let it, the negativity pouring out more than worth it. 

“I would hesitate to call what we have a ‘bond.’” He finally answered it, disinterest weaved carefully through his voice. 

“Whatever you say,” Fresh snickered, face leaning down to rest on his shoulder. It seemed in a particularly clingy mood today, though that seemed like everyday, lately.

Hyper aware of its movements, Nightmare couldn’t help but notice something was a bit off. A certain stiffness the parasite didn’t normally have, teeth a hint too straight and claws blunt.

It pressed further into him, barley not sinking into his negativity, almost nervous… 

“Bad day?”

It startled, clearly displeased, and ignored his question entirely. Expected, exposing weakness to Nightmare wasn’t usually in anybody’s best interest. “Nah, my day’s been totes tubular. We don’t needa talk about me anyway. You got any cool plans, bro?”

“Work. In fact, I’d prefer to be alone for it.” He wasn’t going to let it play hard to get.

“…”

“If you require my presence,” he hummed in a way he knew made him sound like an asshole, “you can always inform me.”

He started walking, pace leisurely as he made his way to his office. It fell instep right behind him, silent, considering.

“C’mon, you always like a bro to help ya’ think things through, don’cba boss?”

“I’m not so incompetent as to require that.”

It huffed, clearly displeased.

He made it to his office with the parasite on his heels, and made quick work of gathering some of the most pressing paperwork. It continued prattling off behind him.

“Don’t harsh the paperwork vibe by kicking me out, octo-bro. Sure hanging out would help with that pro-duct-tality”

It grumbled and huffed, trying to annoy a reaction out of him. Cute.

“If it’s only entertainment you want, you can always bother other inhabitants of this castle, parasite.”

That actually got a growl out of it.

With a quick motion he also grabbed few pens and a stamp before he turned on his heel and walked right back out of his office.

Fresh didn’t seem to notice how far off his normal schedule he was acting, pressing close once more. It was so tempting to push it off.

“Are you saying you can’t, broski? The top dog of negativity, unable to amuse a simple lil’ dude?”

“You’re nearly 7 feet tall.”

“Yeah man! Just a little guy!” It grinned.

He let out an amused huff despite himself, finally arriving at their destination.

He fished the key to his room out of his pocket and made quick work of making his way in, one of his tentacles aground Fresh’s wrist pulling it after him.

The fact that this was when it finally noticed he wasn’t doing his normal paperwork routine was a testament to how out of it it must have been. It let out a little click at the back of its throat, confused.

“What’s with this?” A moment later.

Nightmare pulled it further into his room, “didn’t you say you’d prefer to ‘hang out’?”

A slight tug, more a test to see if he’d let go than an earnest attempt to shake his grip. He didn’t let go.

“Preev hang-outs weren’t like this, bro-tato.”

He ignored its words. Sticking out a tentacle easily tripped it, making it land on his plush bed with a thump.

He followed at his own pace, getting all his equipment set up  on his nightstand as Fresh rolled into its side to look at him. It’s voice was squeaky, “Again! What is the deal bro?! I am not the type of guy you bring to your crib. I don’t even do this typa’ thing!”

He rolled his eyes as he made himself comfortable. “You misunderstand me if you think  I’m trying to bed you. You merely seem under the weather.”

It grumbled, its brows furrowing and teeth baring. Before it could start spouting some bullshit about being in ‘tip-top shape,’ he reached over and settled its head on his lap, hands moving to massage at its neck vertebrae. 

It’s mouth let out a squeaky breath of air instead of a retort, and he chuckled. His tentacles reached down to wrap around its joints, and the way it went limp at his cold ministrations let him know he’d been right: joint pain.

It whines, “This is so un-radical bro…”

“Is it?” He grabbed his clipboard and started doing paperwork, letting his tentacles slowly wrap further around the other skeleton. The little shudders it let out only made him tighten his grip.

A little rumbly purr started up, and which seemed to disquiet Fresh even further. 

“Un-radical…” it repeated.

“Of course,” he looked down at it, face a bit flushed and purring like a motor, “‘Un-radical.”

“It was just a bad switch, it’ll pass.” It grumbled, “You really don’t need to do all… this stuff for it.” 

Information; he tried not to look like he was paying more attention. He let out an acknowledging noise.

“You listening? Just said you didn’t need to do this.”

“And if I want to?” Was out before he could think.

It stiffened the same time as him. This wasn’t what their relationship was supposed to be like.

They were both using the other: Fresh for protection and Nightmare for a free meal. It was comforting, expected. I they could always count on the other acting in their own self interest.

“Because… more contact more negativity, yeah?”

“Yes.” No.

It relaxed, taking that instead of the possibility of him caring, “whatever. I guess I’ll stay for your sa-“

He retracted most of his tentacles, making it whine. 

“Fine fine! I’ll stay for my sake.”

“Good boy.” He continued his ministrations, feeling it relax back into him a moment later. Pretenses dropped, it didn’t hesitate to push as far into his space as it could get. A bit too close for him to do his paper-work with maximum productivity but he couldn’t say he minded too much.

[triple-tree-ranch]

Our 14-year-old dog Abbey died last month. The day after she passed away my 4-year-old daughter Meredith was crying and talking about how much she missed Abbey. She asked if we could write a letter to God so that when Abbey got to heaven, God would recognize her. I told her that I thought we could so, and she dictated these words:

Dear God,

Will you please take care of my dog? She died yesterday and is with you in heaven. I miss her very much. I am happy that you let me have her as my dog even though she got sick.

I hope you will play with her. She likes to swim and play with balls. I am sending a picture of her so when you see her you will know that she is my dog. I really miss her.

Love, Meredith

We put the letter in an envelope with a picture of Abbey and Meredith and addressed it to God/Heaven. We put our return address on it. Then Meredith pasted several stamps on the front of the envelope because she said it would take lots of stamps to get the letter all the way to heaven. That afternoon she dropped it into the letter box at the post office. A few days later, she asked if God had gotten the letter yet. I told her that I thought He had.

Yesterday, there was a package wrapped in gold paper on our front porch addressed, 'To Meredith' in an unfamiliar hand. Meredith opened it. Inside was a book by Mr. Rogers called, 'When a Pet Dies.' Taped to the inside front cover was the letter we had written to God in its opened envelope. On the opposite page was the picture of Abbey & Meredith and this note:

Dear Meredith,

Abbey arrived safely in heaven. Having the picture was a big help and I recognized her right away.

Abbey isn't sick anymore. Her spirit is here with me just like it stays in your heart. Abbey loved being your dog. Since we don't need our bodies in heaven, I don't have any pockets to keep your picture in so I am sending it back to you in this little book for you to keep and have something to remember Abbey by.

Thank you for the beautiful letter and thank your mother for helping you write it and sending it to me. What a wonderful mother you have. I picked her especially for you. I send my blessings every day and remember that I love you very much. By the way, I'm easy to find. I am wherever there is love.

Love, God

Don't say you're too busy to forward this. Just go ahead and do it

[kenananamin]

Nanami as a girl dad

Nanami is a girl dad, I will not argue or fight on this but if you think he's not... i got news for you ANYWAYS these are my Nanami headcanons as the best husband and dad and what he would do as a girl dad during pregnancy, birth, and actually raising the baby

takes a personal day off work to take you to your doctor's appointments then takes you to brunch and a movie. will hold your hand the whole time

fought HR/managers/supervisors/ANYONE for as much paternity leave as he could get

asked if he could work from home bc he doesn't want to miss a single moment of your pregnancy or newborn baby

sits on the floor to talk to his baby girl and holds your tummy saying that he's holding her hand

made 20 copies of the sonogram picture and kept them all. there's a copy in his wallet, behind his phone case, in the glove compartment, and in every suit jacket pocket close to his heart. he likes to brag about his girls (you and baby)

comes back from the store with more diapers and wipes bc "we need to be prepared"

bookmarks blog posts talking about how to bond with your baby

reads every book he can and asks the doctor more questions than any other dad who comes into the office

will ask anyone he trusts for advice, but gets defensive when someone tells him to do something differently

takes naps with his head on your lap and his lips touching your belly

has two hospital bags ready in the closet but has an emergency one in the trunk... just in case

does not sleep the whole time you're in labor even when the nurses tell him to "rest before the baby gets here"... that gets him more excited and doesn't let him sleep

tells you to dig your nails into his arm if you need to when you start pushing. kisses your entire face when the baby starts to cry and rushes to the nurse holding her to ask if they could stamp the baby's feet on his shirt/gown before cleaning her (a/n: my dad did this with me and it is the cutest thing ever. we still have the gown with the tiny feet stamped on there)

carefully takes off the shirt/gown and immediately wants to do skin-to-skin contact after you hold the baby first

follows baby to the hospital nursery and takes pictures of sleeping baby to change his wallpaper

changes wallpaper every two days bc "she did something cute" or "sticking her tongue out" or "giving me the stink eye"

loves waking up with her at night bc besides letting you rest... it's daddy-daughter time so don't interrupt

demonstrates what tummy time is while she lays on her baby bouncer (you laugh bc it's ridiculous and she's only a couple weeks old)

buys scrapbook and disposable cameras to start an album (the first of a hundred probably)

buys special clips for crib blankets to be tight and immovable around mattress bc he kept reading about possible suffocation

either way, does not like for her to sleep in her own room so he buys an extra baby moses to put in your room

has an extra diaper bag in his car bc he likes impromptu trips to let mommy rest

sulking when he has to go back to work

finds remote job within the next month

sits baby down on his lap while be works and she plays with her toy

throws an intimate 1st bday party first then a second one the next weekend to invite anyone he's ever talked to and brag about his family

literally kicks his feet and giggles with his daughter then stands up to be the most intimidating man to anyone else

tears of joy when you're pregnant again and sobs when they say it's a girl

carries his girls with him everywhere he goes

is proud that he's raising strong women who will learn how to fight for themselves. keeps reminding himself that he's raising the next generation and that fuels a fire deep inside him

let's the girls play with his hair and put all the clips they can find around the house on his head

lets his fingers and toes be horribly painted while he reads the newspaper and leaves the house with those nails

gets teary eyed on the first day of school and waits outside the school the whole day for a week (paid time off used)

can only do simple pony tails and braids but loves waking the girls up, sitting them on his lap and doing their hair while you get them dressed

making cute lunches for the girls with you is one of his favorite parts of the day

likes dressing the girls alike or the same and has a strange obsession with buying them overalls

loves playing barbie with them and lowkey has a favorite barbie

goes toy shopping behind mommy's back and tells the girls that this is the only secret that they can ever ever keep

randomly brings back flowers for every single one of his girls

takes his girls (you and daughters) on group and individual dates

makes the girls sign a contract written in crayon stating they "will love daddy forever"... frames it and puts it in his office

cries tears of joy AGAIN when you're pregnant with another girl... and looks for a bigger house

rips off door side where he was marking the girl's height and puts it in the new house. he did not believe in marking/tracing it on another thin piece of wood and said he wanted the original

takes everyone out for dessert every Friday and checks in on each kid to see how they're feeling and if they're ok

never misses a single game, recital, rehearsal, practice, ANYTHING

takes his daughters to their first self-defense class

does not believe in violence and does not condone it... but will first ask the girls if they won the fight (strongly insinuates that he will be disappointed if someone kicks their ass)

corrects the girls when needed and has a special look to tell them to stop messing around

later goes to apologize if he ever uses the look

will ask the girls for a sleepover and will throw every blanket on the floor to make one huge bed

tells the girls to follow him as he does repairs around the house or on the car bc they "need to know how it all works and how to deal with it"

is shocked when you're pregnant again (even though he likes to do a certain something that leads to babies) but is REALLY SHOCKED when it's a boy this time

reminds the girls that they have to be nice and helpful with their brother

starts all the reading and bookmarking all over again, but his time on how to raise a gentleman

raises the best little dude and let's the girls show him everything he has shown them so far

okaaaay okay i know i said he's a girl dad and a girl dad only buuuuut Nanami would raise the best little gentleman ever. AND IMAGINE A MINI NANAMI?!! ... but he's still a girl dad first and foremost

extras:

would absolutely praise his wife and randomly thank her for giving him a family

will wear a disguise and follow daughters to first date

refuses to parentify any of his kids and wants to let them be kids

constantly reminds them that they only get to be kids for a short amount of time then they have to be adults for the rest of their lives. so be silly

is always down for a quiet drive if anyone needs to clear their head

dreads the day when he will no longer he able to carry his kids on his shoulders

has already made mental plans for every possible situation the kids may create, even the absolutely crazy ones his brain has imagined

is very open w the girls and talks about safety in intimacy

leaves cute notes during bad or iffy days and writes motivational quotes on their mirrors with dry-erase markers

loves when you say he's a dilf

tries to talk to them about the stock market

passes his budgeting king crown to the kids

feels super cool when his kids brag to their friends about him, even puffs his chest a little bit

[aphiewrites]

Pairing: season 1!Viktor x gender neutral!reader

Warnings: literally just fluff, being asked out lmao, first time writing, no mentions of y/n, not proofread,

Word count: idk

a/n: y’all i used to write fanfics, but i haven’t in sOOOOOO long. I literally apologize, on my knees, begging, if like this is bad. i wanted to pick up writing again bc arcane has just inspired me especially viktor if u know what i mean. ahaha. pls dont criticize me so harshly i will cry and stop writing but advise is appreciated. also grammar might be bad, its like a weakness for me cus english is my second language. anyways bye love u whoever reads this.

The clacking of your shoes echoes through the academy halls. The lights in the hallway barely emit a soft light in these dark hours. A guard stands at the end of the hallway, quietly dozing off and then catching himself awake when his head nods. He finally notices you with a box in your hands, a box filled with trinkets such as gears, screws, and jagged handmade parts of machinery. He nods at you, passing him with a quick smile as you make a left to looming doors of the laboratory.

You quietly open the door, using your elbow to turn the long door handle. You push the door open with your foot and smoothly slide in. You nudge the door close with your foot aback and adjust your hold with the wooden box as to not drop anything. The laboratory is glowing a blue hue from the hexcore being mended on. There in the middle of the lab, you notice Viktor. Slouched and focused on the magical machinery, his arms twisting and turning to control the robotic arms that interacts with the hexcore. His hair is ruffled from the goggles that is on his face and from the frustration that he runs through his hair with his hands.

You slowly make your way over to his position, cautious of the laboratory environment as to not cause an incident. “Viktor, I brought your order of supplies,” you speak softly.

Viktor jolts from his focus and immediately lets go of the controls. He pulls back the goggles and turns to you, “ah! You can set that down anywhere. I hope you didn’t find much trouble getting those,” he speaks kindly, his accent smooth and alluring.

You set the box down on the table in the middle of the laboratory and you pause for a moment. You can’t help but smile at him, his face has marks from the goggles resting too long on his face, and his hair is just a giant jumbled mess. You walk over to him, reaching out to the top of his head to readjust the goggles and to fix the folded parts of hair.

Viktor gives you a flustered look but doesn’t say much of it and lets you adjust his look.

“I managed to haggle the price for most of the parts,” you gleefully share to him.

“That is good,” he says, continuing to watch you closely as you clean up a few more pieces.

You retreat back and put your hands behind, “I did have trouble finding one part, I had to check three different shops before I found one that had it available.”

“I could’ve done it myself, but thank you for going through that trouble for me,” he says with a gentle smile.

You chuckle, “I’m happy to help around, Viktor. It keeps me busy instead of waiting around in an office to stamp papers.” Viktor and you share a light laugh. “Oh, before I forget…” You dip your hands into the pocket of your coat and place down the change you obtained from haggling beside him on the desk. “I would’ve dropped it off earlier, but I got caught up on the stamping and I’d figured you’d still be here,” you ramble.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

There’s a pause in the conversation. You didn’t notice how loud the hexcore hums until this silence. The silence is edging the line of awkward and comfortable silence until you cut in quick.

“So… Are you planning on clocking out soon?” Your eyes shift to the side as you question.

“There is still much work to do.” His head lowers, eyes looking down on his hands that are nervously soothing each finger.

“I don’t want to sound like Jayce right now, but I think you should take a break and come back to this in the morning.”

He sighs, “I am well aware,” he runs his hand through the back of his head, his other arm leaning on his knee, and his leg is now bouncing.

“Come on, you will have more space in that brain of yours to think once you’ve rested,” you outreach a hand.

“Fatigue is not the issue, it is you taking up more space in my head.”

You freeze in your place, dumbfounded. You aren’t sure if you heard that right, but you aren’t sure if he means it in the way you think. Does he despise your presence? Does he want you to leave so he can work more? Or does he find some sort of affection towards you?

He finally looks up at you to analyze your reaction, arms resting at his knees.

He must’ve realized your confusion on your face but he speaks up again, “Will you have dinner with me?”

You, never in a million years, would expect Viktor to make such a bold move on you. Your face is burning and heart is beating like a large drum inside of you.

“Um… Isn’t it a little late for dinner, Vik?” You awkwardly state. “Besides… I should probably sleep soon… and you too…”

Yours and Viktor’s face turn to shock from what you just said. You immediately curse yourself in the inside, it sounded more like a way to kindly reject him, but you swear to yourself it was out of concern for the man to rest as well instead of ruining his sleep schedule more.

Viktor straightens himself in the chair, trying to compose himself, “ah, yes. I’m sorry to bother you with nonsense—“

“No! no, no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that to come off as a rejection.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Is it not?”

“No! I would love to have dinner with you! I was just saying you should rest, you’ve been working all day.” Did it get even more hot in this room? You think. Your face is burning even more than before and it feels like a sweat is about to drop from your forehead.

Viktor picks up his cane from the side of the desk and stands up.

Oh god. He’s coming over.

He stands right in front of you, looming. Bodies close, not touching, but you swear you can feel the warmth radiate off of him. The scent of his cologne fills your nose due to the close proximity. You can see the overconfidence that has kicked into him and you wish you could melt right at this second. He just stares at you for a while without saying anything. A smile creeping up on his face and it almost scares you because what else is going to come out from that mouth that’s going to send you into a frenzy?

“Well, perhaps I will rest tonight to keep your brain from worrying, and maybe a date tomorrow?” He slyly asks.

You blink a few times before gaining the composure to respond, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay cooped up in this lab tomorrow?” You snarkily remark.

“Jayce will do the work.” He grins.

“A date it is then,” you smile back.

“I’m glad,” he brushes off a piece of dust from your cheek then backs up. “I will head out now then, goodnight.” He says as he slowly walks towards the door.

“Wait a minute, have you eaten at all tonight?” You turn to him.

He stops halfway to the door, awkwardly as if he was caught stealing something, “No, but I was going to head to a little shop to pickup a meal,” he gives an innocent honest, almost goofy, smile.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Let’s go together then,” you catch up to him and follow him through the door.

———

“So, if we’re eating dinner right now, does that mean there will be no date tomorrow?” Viktor asks, half a sandwich in hand.

“Dinner, we rest, then date, okay?” You smirk.

He grins, “Okay, good.”

[fullmetalfisting]

I had the weirdest interaction with a lady at the post office today. I go in to buy a roll of stamps. Pull the $100 out of my hoodie pocket. The lady’s like “did you just print this off this morning?”

I’m like “ha, ha” bc how else are you supposed to respond to something like that.

She’s like “this bill doesn’t look right.”

She like. Makes a production out of using the counterfeit pen all while “i don’t know why you people don’t get jobs like everyone else”

I’m standing there like. I literally don’t care about whatever imagined drama is happening. Can you give me my stamps and change lady

[bradleysass]

miss - @black-brothers-microfic - wc: 640

The line for security stretched endlessly ahead of them, coiling around silver poles like a bored snake. Sirius had been complaining since they left the car.

“This is why we should’ve booked first-class,” he grumbled, pulling his sunglasses down to glare at the fluorescent lights. “We wouldn’t even be in this line.”

“We’re flying economy because I paid for the tickets,” Regulus shot back, adjusting his hoodie. “And no, I’m not letting you bully your way into an upgrade.”

James, trailing behind them with their backpacks, sighed. “You’ve been arguing since we got here. Can we just—oh. We’re up.”

The security officer waved them forward. “Passports, please.”

Regulus handed his over. He felt it coming before it even happened—the glance down at the document, the up-and-down look at him, the tightening of the officer’s mouth.

“Uh… Regulus Black?” the officer said uncertainly. “Is this… your passport?”

Regulus swallowed. “Yes.”

“But it says…” The officer turned it around, pointing at the bold “F” printed under sex. “This says female.”

Sirius’ sunglasses came off. “Oh no you didn’t.”

James groaned. “Oh no.”

“Yeah,” Regulus said flatly, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “It does. I haven’t been able to change it yet.”

“Well…” The officer frowned. “We’ll need to call a supervisor—”

“No. No, you don’t.” Sirius stepped forward, voice rising. “Do you see this man standing in front of you? This man—this Mister Regulus Black?”

James hurriedly grabbed his arm. “Pads—”

“Do you see a woman?” Sirius thundered, sweeping his arm dramatically. “Because I see a man. A Mister. Not a Miss.”

People in line were staring now. A kid pointed. Someone whispered, “Is that Sirius Black?”

The officer blinked. “Sir, please lower your voice—”

“Lower my voice?” Sirius laughed, incredulous. “How about you lower your assumptions? That’s my brother. Mister Black. You’re going to let him through that scanner, or you’re going to explain to me why you think you get to decide what’s written on his passport instead of—”

“Okay, okay, let’s all breathe,” James interrupted, trying to physically pull Sirius back. “Reg, buddy, you’re fine, right? We’re just clearing it up, no need for anyone to get thrown out of the airport—”

“I’M NOT GETTING THROWN OUT,” Sirius yelled. “I’M DEFENDING MY BROTHER’S HONOR.”

The officer’s radio crackled. “Uh… supervisor to lane four?”

Regulus buried his face in his hands. “I hate both of you.”

“I’m winning you human rights,” Sirius declared proudly.

James gave him a strained smile. “Mate, I think you’re winning us a delay.”

A woman in a blazer arrived, looking equal parts tired and wary. “What’s the issue?”

Sirius turned to her immediately. “The issue is that my brother here is a Mister, not a Miss, and we’re not leaving until you address him properly and let him through security without acting like he’s committed identity fraud.”

The supervisor took one look at Regulus—tall, hoodie-clad, faint shadow of a beard—and sighed. “Is the passport valid?”

“Yes,” the officer mumbled.

“Do they match the photo?”

“Yes.”

“Then stamp it and let them through.”

Regulus perked up. “Seriously?”

She shrugged. “Look, I’m not getting paid enough to argue with whatever country hasn’t updated their documents. Go ahead.”

The officer stamped it, sliding it back over. “You’re good.”

Regulus grabbed it with a tight nod. “Thanks.”

Sirius threw both arms in the air like he’d just scored a goal. “VICTORY!”

James practically dragged him toward the conveyor belt for their bags. “Please stop talking before they change their minds.”

Sirius beamed at Regulus, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “I told you I’d have your back, baby brother.”

Regulus sighed, but a reluctant smile curled his lips. “Yeah. Thanks, Pads.”

James sighed too, exasperated but fond. “Next time, can we just drive?”

“Absolutely not,” Sirius said smugly. “I need an audience.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Office Space 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you're an assistant to private and corporate investigator, Nick Fowler, and find yourself brought into the fold of his shady professional life. 

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, this reader is known as Elfie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Another thick folder falls on your desk. You look up as Mr. Fowler strides without a word into his office. No explanation, no directive, as ever he's elusive but demanding. 

You sigh and push your mouse aside, bringing the folder in front of you. You open it up and find stacks of hand-written notes, receipts, and reports. You get the happy task of digitizing each one and sorting it into the electronic archive for investigation.  

Your boss closes himself into his office as you sit in the vacant silence of the small lobby. It's no walk-in location. PI work doesn't exactly operate that way. Corporate investigations are even less advertised. Fowler does more than find the corruption, he scrubs it when necessary. 

You expect the discretion of the work is why he hired you. You don't talk much. You do you work without question and clock out. Still, it doesn't keep you from after hours or early arrivals. He texts and you're where you need to be. 

You sort through the thick folder. Chronological or by type? Some don't have dates and what would you categorize a cocktail napkin as? You get up and haul it all into the copier room. It's the smallest room in the rented space, made tighter by the filing cabinets and the industrial printer. 

You unhook your laptop and bring it into the copier room. You put it on the narrow table and go to task. It's mindless work. You fall into the pattern of scanning, numbering, and cataloguing. The copier hums in the empty static. 

No music, no noise. Your request for white noise was declined without consideration. You accept without argument. Fowler isn't the type to entertain pushback. He's the boss. 

Whatever, you wouldn't trade the silence for the top ten on repeat at your previous retail gig. The people are enough to make you tolerate the isolation. Besides, it's a job, it's not meant to be fun.  

You get your kicks after work; a drink with your fellow corporate drones down at Retro's. Thinking of, it's been some time since you had a spicy margarita. You pause your work and go to retrieve your phone from your purse. As you find it hiding in the middle pocket, Fowler's door opens and he promptly marches over to stamp his mug down on your desk. Shoot. 

"Emergency?" He wonders as his blue eyes narrow at your grip on the phone. 

"No, sir, checking the time," you lie and drop the cell back in your purse and hide it in your drawer. "Coffee?" 

He doesn't answer, merely taps the brim and walks away. He leaves his office door open as he retreats. You give a tight smile to the empty office and snatch up the dark blue cup. 

You take it into the little room meant to be some sort of break space. You don't take breaks and neither does he. You approach the expensive nespresso machine and go through the motions. Cappucino. You've become a pseudo-barista since you started the job. 

The smell of coffee tempts you. You're permitted to have one of your own but you have to supply your own coffee and dairy. It's easier to hit the cafe on your way or pack a cup from home.  

You carry it out and tentatively approach Mr. Fowler's door. You peer inside and clear your throat. He sneers at his phone without acknowledging you. You near and place his cup on the marble coaster beside his apple mouse. 

"We have an extra mug?" He asks without looking up. 

"Yes, sir, I think--" 

"I don't need you to think, I need yes or no." 

"Yes," you swallow down his bluntness. As you least you never have to wonder what's on his mind. He'll tell you. 

"I'm in expecting someone in twenty minutes." 

That's it. You have the pieces, put it together. His visitor will require their own beverage. Lovely. A rare drop-in is hardly exciting, more stressful. If they're important enough to come in, they're important enough to be concerned. 

You go to find a second cup. You have your own, a red travel mug without a handle. You’ll leave the silicon lid in your drawer and give it a quick rinse.  

You wait behind your desk, the mug clean and sparkling beside the nespresso in anticipation. You’ll go back to your scanning once you have the visitor settled. You know Fowler wouldn’t want them walking into an empty desk. In the meantime, you sift through another case file on your screen. 

When the door opens, you pop up, overly alert. That’s not your usual state. This place makes you sleepy. You stand up to greet the man as he steps through. 

He’s tall, taller than Fowler, but slender. While his shoulders are broad, the rest of him is trim. His blonde hair is kept neatly and his blue eyes are crystalline where your boss’ are dark and stormy. This man is like sunshine compared to the usual grim cloud over this place. 

“Hello, uh, sir,” you smile, “you must be here to see Mr. Fowler.” 

“Yes, that’s me,” he says breezily, “Jonathan Pine.” 

“Okay, erm, I’ll let him know you’re here,” you round the desk, hitting your hip on the corner but hiding the pang it sends down your thigh, “uh, would you like a coffee?” 

“How kind to offer, but no, I’m more of a tea drinker,” he replies, “pardon, but I didn’t get your name.” 

“Elfie,” you utter instinctively, “er, excuse me, I’ll just go let Mr. Fowler--” 

You scurry to the office door and it opens before you can reach it. Mr. Fowler steps out and sends you a sardonic look. You wince and step back out of his way. He struts by and approaches Jonathan, Mr. Pine properly, with his hand out in offering. 

“Pine.” 

“Nick,” the man answers familiarly, “long time.” 

“Not long enough,” Fowler counters as they shake hands firmly. He’s a few inches shorter than Pine though hardly falters at the fact. “Elfie, coffee.” 

“She did offer,” Pine intones, “I politely declined. You know it isn’t my style.” 

“Mm, yes, I know your style too well,” Fowler rebuffs and lets him go, gesturing him through his office door. As he follows, he glances back at you and arches a brow. What did you do wrong this time? 

[jymwahuwu]

After watching the animation, I felt uncomfortable and had thoughts about handcuffs. just found a reason to be handcuffed and spanked by Wriothesley 🥵🙏💦💦

CW: yandere, forced imprisonment, abuse of power, non-consensual spanking, humiliation

For a whole week… you were uncooperative, stamping your feet in front of Wriothesley's face, arguing with him, or responding with perfunctory- "yes-yes", "got it.", "you're right again anyway". Why? He keeps you in this underwater prison and factory, restricting your freedom. He smiled lightly and gracefully, patting you on the head as if you just weren't mature enough. Like just punched the pillow with his fist, it was completely useless. The anger in your chest burned even brighter.

You were sulking that day, slowly poking at the food with your fork in the cafeteria, thinking about how to escape the Fortress of Meropide. A young and sweet voice sounded next to you. "You look unhappy. Cheer up. Want a milkshake?" "No, thank you." You replied quickly, without even glancing at who the person was. In the corner of your vision, a blue milkshake approaches you, and you turn around irritably.

"I told you no…" Inadvertently, your elbow touched the cup, and the whole cup fell to the ground and broke. You were startled to realize that it was the head nurse, Sigewinne. Guilt builds in you, and you're about to apologize and pick up the pieces, but you hear that annoying voice - Wriothesley's. His boots appear before you. "Wow, what a big scene. Do you mind explaining it?"

Sigewinne waved her hand and raised head to look at Wriothesley. "I'm fine, Your Grace."

Rebellion takes a place in your heart. You swallowed your apology and sneered. "I broke it."

Wriothesley raised his eyebrows. "Really? Well, come to the office with me. Sigewinne, don't pick up the debris. I will ask people to clean it." Sigewinne gave you a worried look and explained. "It's really just an accident, not intentional, Your Grace…"

"Don't worry." He gave a reassuring smile. "Just going to the office to chat."

As soon as you entered the office, you heard the door being locked. Your heart skipped a beat, but you still maintained a stoic look.

Wriothesley walked slowly from the door to you, hugged his arm, and asked in a relaxed tone. "You've been very rude lately. What's wrong?"

You can't believe Wriothesley is actually asking this - "Don't you know you're the reason! When am I going to get out of jail! Why I have no idea how long my sentence will be extended!"

"This is what happens when someone disobeys." Administrator said, taking something out of his pocket. "And now I'm right. You don't look like you're fit to be released from prison."

He quickly lifted the back of your hand, and then with a sound, the handcuff locked your right hand. You suddenly broke into a cold sweat, but your other hand was grabbed and locked in the same way. "W-what do you want to do!" accompanied by a chuckle. "You look better this way, but it's not enough."

Wriothesley sat down leisurely, stretched out his hand, and pulled you onto his lap. As you screamed, a chill ran down your butt, and the covering material was pulled down. But he still felt that it was not enough, and even took off your underwear, not even allowing the underwear to stay on your calves, but threw it on the desk. Before this, you had never known that Wriothesley's strength was so irresistible and powerful. He always allowed you to push him away a little.

A hard slap on your ass. Terrified, you straightened your legs and kicked them, as if that would relieve the pain, but it didn't. "How dare you - how dare you spank me! Wriothesley, I will teach you a lesson once I get out!"

"Ha-I'm waiting." He said, holding back the laughter in his throat. "But now, you're being spanked by me, so watch your words."

The slaps landed on your butt one after another, and his thick arms were waving, showing no mercy, as the loud slapping sound proved. The pain urged your eyes to fill with tears, and you wanted to struggle, but the cold handcuffs reminded you of your position. "Stop this…you have no right to do this…"

"I have. And no one can stop me from doing this." While holding your waist, his big, rough hand slapped your right butt three times in a row. Just when you thought you had adapted… pain. You sobbed quietly, sniffling.

After the slap lasted… you don't know, 2 minutes or 5 minutes later? It seemed like a lifetime, and finally it stopped. "Poor you." The palm touched your heated butt and rubbed it gently, "It's all swollen. If you were obedient, it wouldn't be like this, right?"

"Asshole…" you just struggled to curse in a low voice, "um, let's start again." These few understatement words gave you a huge warning. The slaps started again, even harder than before. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to stop him. "…wait, wait, I'm sorry!! Don't start over!!"

"Ah, too late," he snickered, not stopping to spank. "Well, I can even hear you scolding me in your heart. Just be good, even a little bit, okay?"

What follows is a long afternoon. Wriothesley didn't spank you continuously, but kept you on his lap. He reviews the documents and signs and adds notes. Occasionally, he thinks of you and waves his arms to educate you. You were like a poor little pet, on his lap, with tears hanging from your eyelashes, your hands locked in handcuffs, and butt is swollen and radiating heat.

[liillyliilly]

I Need A Challenge

ushijima wakatoshi x reader words; 3804 synopsis; she writes a scathing review of ushijima's volleyball skills. how else should he respond if not by inviting her out to dinner?

She was tired of people like him. People who had no reason to be so stereotypically perfect. Everyone knows the type, comically good looking, is a prodigy in their one specific thing, acting so nonchalant that it ends up becoming their token personality trait. It was all so boring to her.

Which is why, as she was taking notes in the most recent Volleyball Nations League game, she wrote down some very harsh words for her analysis of star spiker Ushijima Wakatoshi. It was just the brutally honest truth of the world, she reasoned. Her editor, after reading the article she wrote at the game, almost dropped their jaw in shock at what she had written.

“This is really,” Editor Xhou sucked in some air through his teeth, “This is almost borderline libel material.”

She inspected her nails, shrugging as Xhou kept talking to her.

“I mean, you said that he is, and I quote from your own words, ‘Ushijima is the default setting for a volleyball player, there’s nothing too particularly unique’. You want me to let the paper publish this?” Xhou leans back into his office chair, pushing his glasses up and sighing.

“I write the truth, and the truth is that when Ushijima is on the court, you always know the exact plays he’ll make, the exact moves he’ll execute. The result is consistently the same. The games are too predictable when he plays.” She stands up from the seat opposite to Xhou.

Xhou sets the paper on his desk, checking that she really is okay with the article having her name attached to it.

A thumbs up is the only response she gives to her supervisor.

Xhou stamps the paper with his name, and faxes the documents to the coordinator putting together the sports magazine review for this issue. He wonders if the legal team is going to get involved again, he remembers the last player she reviewed, he was crushed and had to move to Alaska to play in a much smaller league. Xhou fully believes he’s going to get the magazine sued for letting her article fly.

Tendou finishes his squat set, hanging up the weights with a heave. Ushijima finishes his hundredth bicep curl, finally finishing his repetitions of this exercise.

Tendou pokes some fun, “I'm so sad for people without legs, they have to skip leg day.” He muses, trying to see what reaction or comment his best friend will make. Tendou twists and flexes in the full length mirrors lining the gym.

Ushijima only responds with a nod. He checks his phone, only to see that he’s received a little over four hundred notifications and counting. The beeping and noises start to pile up. Tendou peeks over Ushijima’s shoulder and gasps, he steals Ushijima’s phone away and immediately investigates what all the hustle and bustle could be related to.

“You should probably read this article, I think the writer has it out for your throat Wakatoshi.” Tendou grimaces while handing the phone back.

He skims the article, viewing the main talking points and major issues the author brings to light about his play style. His boring, everyday genius playstyle. He’s read criticisms of his volleyball skills before, but this one doesn’t seem too targeted solely about him, just using him as the mechanism to get a broader point across about the lack of challenges in volleyball recently. He chuckles at one of her comments, reading it aloud.

“Monster generation? I need a real challenge from these players, but all they’re giving me is platinum dreams without true passion and anger for the sport. I want them foaming at the mouth with new tricks, but I’m getting the same exact game over and over again.” Tendou cringes as Ushijima reads the words out loud. Ushijima stifles another chuckle.

Ushijima tucks his phone into his pocket, picking up his duffel bag. “I like her. She knows volleyball.”

It wasn’t just her comments, it was also the name of the author that Ushijima liked.

Tendou drops his water bottle in response to Ushijima’s behavior, stunned at the openness of amusement he has for the article and for the investment he has for this particular reporter.

Ushijima’s manager says that she’ll have a cease and desist letter issued to the paper for publishing such a slanderous piece. Ushijima proposes an entirely different solution.

She didn’t expect to be sitting at a restaurant, pencil and paper in hand, waiting for someone she just dragged through the mud to arrive so they could share a meal and an interview.

It was winter, and her reading glasses had fogged up slightly in the difference between the outdoors temperature and the warmth of the restaurant. The main features of the restaurant was the Western Style dining choices and decor, it reminded her almost of a hibachi place, but instead of Japanese food it was just a bunch of American and European dishes.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Ushijima pulls out his chair and settles into it, grabbing his glass of water so he can drink from it.

“High school seemed so long ago, but yes it is nice to see you again Wakatoshi. Sorry for the piece, your name just carries the right amount of importance to get my bigger points across.” She crosses her legs, setting her pencil behind her ear. The waiter comes around and takes their orders. He asks for the salmon, and she gets the house soup.

“No, I totally get it. But the statement about how people just continually eat up the single dish I serve? I thought you would’ve found a better analogy for my consistency on the court.” He just smiles at her, watching her move the pencil from behind her ear to her mouth so she could chew on it a little. One of her tells of when she was deeply thinking about how to respond to something.

Ushijima remembers all the stories she would write back in high school, ranging from sports analysis of Shiratorizawa clubs for her journalism extracurricular to getting paid to write love letters from person to person. She garnered enough money to pay for a new laptop and her entire wishlist of stationery items.

He remembers her lending him a pen once during class, it was a weightier metal pen. The ink was so black he was sure it was made of pure darkness. While he admired the pen she went into a rant talking about the pen itself, the quality of it and how it took forever to be delivered to her. They both got chastised by the teacher for having a side conversation and had to sit outside the classroom. But they ended up talking outside the classroom despite being told not to.

“Like you’d know what a good analogy looks like.” She hides her smirk behind a spoonful of soup. Ushijima appreciates her ability to be unapologetic, her honesty and bluntness matching his own linguistic traits.

They talk for three hours, about volleyball, life after high school, the article she wrote, about friends and the situations they found themselves in. Ushijima talks about Tendou and his chocolatier aspirations, she brings up Semi Eita’s new album that actually sounded truly alternative and unique.

He remembers her having a crush on Semi throughout high school. He didn’t really see why she would sit at their practices sometimes, just sighing wistfully, before freezing and turning flustered when Semi tried to make conversation like a normal person. But when Semi was seen to be a slight habitual complainer, she grew a distaste for him. Ushijima was sure that Semi was her longest crush, clocking in at around two months or so.

Ushijima did enjoy that she came to their practices sometimes, because then he could ask her about her pen collection and she would openly, loudly, and enthusiastically layer on every detail she could fit into her remarks. And she was someone who asked him about his favorite things, primarily volleyball but also about reading the advertisements in the Weekly Shonen Jump Magazine. Or about how good a runner’s high could feel sometimes.

Around her, he could share without fear of being misunderstood. She just accepted what she heard, and then analyzed it, taking her time and asking clarifying questions. He did his best to emulate her mannerisms and tact within their conversations, usually failing, but she didn’t mind.

She did openly declare an aversion for him throughout high school, that genius powerhouses should never be entertained with acknowledgement. What others considered harsh from her was almost like beaming encouragement for him. It was like she was telling him, if he didn’t continually improve and advance then the stagnation would leave him in the dust. A push in the right direction was more accurate of why she would say what she did about him.

He takes the bill from her, puts his gold debit card on the clipboard, and returns it to the waiter before she can even open her purse. Rolling her eyes, she sets some bills on the table and slides it over to him. Glaring at him until he accepts the cash and puts the bills into his wallet.

“Are you dating anyone right now?” Ushijima inquires while they walk down the street to get to the train station. The night air leaves a chill around the two of them. He had his hands tucked into his pockets, and she had her arms folded over her body.

Snow falls from the sky, catching the lights and making streaks of color burst in small flickers like fireflies. The piled up snow in the roads hadn’t yet been plowed thoroughly, and wasn’t sullied with pollution that made it yellow and black. The snow was much more like a blanket.

“Listen, I’m what people consider easy to love but hard to please. Most people say they felt like they were never enough for me when we were dating.” She bites on her bottom lip a little. It’s a confusing feeling to be unnerved by him, and she feels even more uneasy when she realizes that she’s speaking too openly. “I don’t intentionally degrade those I date, I just, I have high expectations. I don’t give many second chances.”

His breath comes out in puffs of white, winter nipping at his nose which makes him feel uncomfortable. He wonders if she’s as cold as him. He knew that she had high expectations, none of the boys at their high school got remotely close to being romantically involved with her. She wanted more than what most people could offer. She wanted someone who was as open as her.

She feels a little guilty about her article now. Maybe she pushed the words a little too much on his bad qualities. Ushijima really wasn’t that bad, he was just dependable and rational, which crafted his playstyle of being an ultimate pillar of strength for a team. Why shouldn’t a team go with the most reliable way of scoring points? Then she shooed the thought. If volleyball wanted to keep being popular, it needed to evolve.

“I liked your article a lot.” He offers, segwaying the conversation, knowing her thoughts better than she knew them. “Power goes far, but even then, there’s ceilings that need to be broken. There’s talents that need to be unearthed, planted, and then allowed to bloom.”

They sit on the bench under the covering for the train station. The screen shows that the train she needs to take will come in around ten minutes.

“Thanks. My editor was worried you were going to sue me for what I wrote.” She laughs a little, rubbing her hands against her thighs to build up some lingering heat in her hands and her body.

He passes her his gloves from his jacket pocket. Making a small hum he waves them in front of her. She accepts and embraces the black fleece covering her fingers.

“Oh, no, there’s no way I’d want you to be sued. But I do want you to add another part to the article.” He blows some air onto his hands, rubbing them together. She raises an eyebrow inquisitively, turning towards him on the bench.

Once he had finished reading her piece on Ushijima’s game, he went through and read all her other articles. He found out her favorite current player was actually Hinata Shouyou, the energetic innovator. She had written about his unique approach, due to natural athleticism. Also about his experience in Brazilian beach volleyball making his defense skills unique in the field of both Japanese volleyball and on a global scale. It was all about Hinata this, Hinata that. But could the ultimate decoy ever compare to the pillar of strength?

“What do you want me to change? I can’t make any promises.”

“Say I’m your number one, because I don’t do last place.” Ushijima lifted her chin up, looking right into her eyes. He inspects her face, the small miniscule motions her features display show that she’s listening, actively listening. “Did I ever mention that you’re the only one that has my attention?”

She really was. The only reporter he cared to give quotes to after big games, the only girl who he ever wondered if there was any possibility to develop a relationship with. He was hooked on every word she wrote, every interview she hosted online. She was in his world, but never overlapped her social circle with his for longer than an hour at best.

She swallows thickly, “I’m sorry to say this, but I really am unimpressed by your playstyle.”

He raises an eyebrow, sliding his hand from her chin to the side of her neck. He can feel the way her pulse is racing under her skin.

“We both know that’s not true.”

Her train arrived. She ducked under his hand and made her way onto the train. Before the sliding door closes, she motions him closer so she doesn't have to yell.

“Then show me your talents. I need a challenger for my first place.”

Tendou lies on his stomach on the floor, Ushijima is reviewing some plays written by his coach. He scans for any play that could show off his left hand spikes, or any play that he could try and improvise a receive if he wasn’t on the front row rotation. The plays are different from what he’s used to. But his coach said that they were all optional, and that Ushijima’s playstyle was perfectly fine as it was. But ‘fine as is’ doesn’t earn him any accolades in her book.

Tendou perks up, “I always felt like fighting had romantic undertones.” He references what Ushijima had told him about how the dinner with his reporter went last week.

“But I don’t want to fight her? I’d hardly call a slight disagreement a fight.” Ushijima sets aside the packet he had been studying.

He opens his phone and refreshes the webpage for the newspaper she worked for. When nothing pops up under her name, he goes to the calendar page to see if she’d be attending an upcoming game he’d be playing in. He sets his phone aside when he realizes she will in fact be in attendance.

“But you do want to fight for her ‘first place’ hottie player ranking.” Tendou kicks his feet in the air, crossing his feet and tapping the top of his head.

Ushijima stands up and goes to check his closet, seeing if he needs to get a tighter jersey for the upcoming game. “She never used the word ‘hottie’ when talking about her favorite player.”

“So you admit that you do want to be her favorite player?”

Ushijima finishes trying on the jersey over his long sleeve compression shirt, the jersey fitted better than he remembered. He tugs on the front of the uniform. Then what Tendou said clicks for him.

Ushijima blinks, “I do want to be her favorite player.” He doesn’t see why he would deny that observation. Being her favorite player would be the ideal situation for him.

Tendou rolls over onto his back and wiggles his pointer fingers in the air, “You want to be more than just her favorite player.” He sings the words in a teasing manner.

“Maybe I do.”

One time, near the end of high school, she was talking during lunch. Her friends were uninterested, wanting to discuss boys or homework instead of her critical worldview analysis. Her table was right next to the table that Ushijima and Tendou were sitting at, their volleyball friends already outside tossing around a ball.

Ushijima listened in, drinking his milk while Tendou ate chicken nuggets. When her voice got quieter, almost to the point of fading out entirely due to her slowly realizing her friends were not as interested in the conversation as she was, Ushijima leaned in subconsciously, trying to catch her words.

Tendou pinched Ushijima, telling him that if he wanted to listen to her, he should ask her to come sit with them. Ushijima froze. So Tendou invited her to come sit with them. Placing her lunch tray down, she ate a carrot, sensing Ushijima’s hesitance and Tendou’s eagerness.

It was Ushijima that spoke first, “Keep going. You remind me of someone. He said almost the same thing, about his worthless pride and not forgetting about it.”

She brightens. Continuing her dissection of the value of pride, she refers to Ushijima as a reference point for pride. Using him in her examples and demonstrations of her illustrative examples. Around the third time she says his family name, he makes another request.

“You can just call me Wakatoshi.”

Tendou drops his chicken nugget, but quickly regains his pace in eating the arms off the dinosaurs.

She says his name, once and then twice. Letting it settle onto her tongue and leave a trace of what a first name basis could mean. Pondering on that instead of her newest philosophy interest is quickly dropped. She only ever calls him by his name from then on.

Needless to say, the next game he plays at, she’s there, with her notepad and pen. Each receive, hit, serve, and toss is carefully recorded on her paper.

He doesn’t do anything too off the typical, but he does try new things his coach had mentioned. Pressuring an opponent’s highest scorer more, trying a few block kills when he’s in the right rotation, scoring some points off the tip of the blockers hands instead of cutting right through their attempts to defend. He’s more tired after this game than his last one. Yet, he had more fun this time around. His teammates seemed thrilled with the results of never having a gap less than five points.

After the game, before he goes to the locker room to debrief with the team and change into regular clothes, he stalks his way over to her. She’s talking to another reporter that had been sitting in the media section, but the other reporter just elbows her lightly when he notices Ushijima making an attempt to approach. The other man slowly walks away, bidding her a farewell.

She’s still sitting on the bench, cheekily covering her notes with her hand, and writing something down. When he takes a place next to her, he spreads his legs a little, expanding his presence and bumping their thighs into each other. She initially retracts from the touch, but relaxes into it.

He’s aware that his body is thinly sheened with sweat. It drips from the hair at his nape down his back and soaks into his player kit. She brings her notepad up to her face, looking at him over the spiral binding of the paper. Trying to hide her comments and analysis of the game, which had been overwhelmingly positive for Ushijima.

“What’s your professional opinion of the game?” He uses a finger to push down her notepad that was covering her nose. A streak of ink and pencil lead was across her cheek and nose. He brought his thumb up and wiped away the markings. At first swipe, nothing moved, so he slid his thumb over again with just a little more pressure.

“It was entertaining in a different sense. Rather than being solely athletic entertainment.” She licks her own thumb and finishes wiping away all the marks that she could feel him trying to get rid of. She misses a sliver on the apple of her cheek but he doesn’t say anything, enjoying the way that it makes her seem less intimidating and more adorable.

“Care to share with the class?”

“Well, when a certain player keeps trying to make eye contact during the game, when he should instead be invested in the game, it does pose some interesting investigative questions.”

At this point, Ushijima slid his hand to her thigh, asking her to explain further, “Such as?”

“When will he get up the nerve to ask her on a date? Will he take her for a ride in that brand new car he got? Does he need glasses from how frequently it seemed he scrutinized the audience in search of her?” She pauses, then continues, “And will he be mad if she writes something about how attentive the setter was during the game?”

“Soon, for the date. Most definitely a long car ride to the mountains. His vision is actually perfectly 20/20, he just wanted to make sure she was having a good time by observing her reactions. No comments for the setter, he’s a rookie, and much less attentive than an older, more experienced player.”

She hums a little in regards to his answers to her inquiries. Soon, she tugs on the back of his hand, the hand that was resting on her thigh. She bites the cap off her pen, waving the pen in the air, close enough to his skin for him to understand the point of what she was communicating.

The pen tickled the skin of his hand, but he liked the way she put one hand under his to make his hand rest flat so she could write her piece on his body. Capping the pen back up, she tucked it behind her ear.

Written on his hand was a series of numbers, along with a small doodle of a volleyball.

Getting up from her spot on the media bench, she leaves him with a short statement.

“I liked your response to my challenge. Keep making the Monster Generation bloom with each game Wakatoshi.” She halts for a moment, then turns back to him, “You can be my number one on those conditions. Blooming the Monsters and responding to my challenges.”

He’d return every challenge she gave him if it meant he could be hers.

[tinosawruswrites]

A Punishment Fitting the Crime

Magistrate Astarion x Rogue Fem!Tav precanon One-Shot

Word count ~ 8600

Synopsis:

Tav is a petty criminal that got caught and is sentenced by magistrate Astarion Ancunín (prevampirism) in the privacy of his office.

TAGS/WARNINGS:

Rogue thief (Fem)Tav, Pre-vampirism Magistrate Astarion, DomAstarion, Sub(Fem)Tav, power play, minor dubcon, bdsm, sexgames with punishments, blowjob, hairpulling, spanking, edging, orgasm denial, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, vaginal penetration, nippleplay

(If the tags are lacking, feel free to suggest any!)

Other notes:

Tav's looks are left ambiguous but her height is mentioned once as being a head shorter than Astarion.

Magistrate Ancunín’s office was located on the top floor of the court house building. Tav made her way up the numerous rows of polished marble stairs, almost compelled to count them from sheer boredom as she went.

The air was clean, almost sharp, with a lingering node of citrus to it, making it relatively easy to inhale while keeping up her steady pace.

Choosing to wear a light jacket, simple pants and shoes had been the right call after all, compromising style for comfort and ease of movement. If she got too hot after the climb, she could simply remove the jacket and still look presentable in her unassuming, common variety undershirt.

The high arched ceiling above her bent with the elevation like a strange, wide funnel, guiding her further along as water would through a pipe – except water would have refused to defy gravity and slid down the stairs.

Such was the life as a sentient, bipedal being. A continuous struggle against the laws of nature.

And regular law, Tav supposed.

Her case had been deemed too insignificant for a full trial. She was to receive a quick and efficient ruling by visiting the chosen magistrate’s office instead, and that happened to be this magistrate Astarion Ancunín.

Their immaculate signature decorated the bottom of the summons letter right next to the official stamp of the courts, both of them equally as artificial in both size and decorum. The way the A’s in magistrate Ancunín’s name had been written to dominate all the other smaller letters signaled Tav everything she ought to know about the man.

Another pompous, bigger than they actually were, holier-than-thou prick that loved to punish bad people and get paid to do so, maybe even keep a shifty side business giving out less harsh punishments and shorter sentences depending on how much gold his pockets got lined up with.

Then again, it was an open secret there were corrupt officials within the courts and that you either knew the right people or had to get really lucky to “do business” with them, as they said.

Nothing too unusual for Tav. Being a rogue sometimes happened to rope her in some less than legal gigs by working for shady people in need of light feet, nimble fingers and keen eyes for suspicious things.

She didn’t care where her skills were needed or who they were for, just that she got compensated for a job well done, like any good, hard working citizen – it wasn’t directly her fault if a customer had an enforced vault with mysterious origins that needed cracking open, or a particular door in the Upper City in need of unlocking without anyone finding out about it. At dead of night. When the owners were on holiday.

Those were all circumstantial details at best and did not in fact make her a criminal.

Tav’s inner justification to absolve herself of any guilt worked wonders for her confidence. Convincing the magistrate ordered to rule her legal punishment for allegedly: “Getting caught giving an aiding hand in breaking in to a high noble’s Summer palace and trespassing” did not.

It was a different thing entirely to lie to oneself and succeed, than to lie to an agent of law and walk away free of charges.

Tav finally reached the top of the stairs panting lightly and found herself standing inside another long, all too bright and polished hallway, almost an exact copy of the ones she passed below. All the whiteness was thankfully broken by the occasional dark paneled door and extravagant painting depicting some form of righteousness or an act of justice being given out.

She peered down at the letter and started systematically checking every door for the right name on a golden placate next to it. A large, vertically slim window opened a view into the dark city at the end of the corridor. Tav peered at the lit streetlamps glowing in the growing darkness leading away from the building she was in.

A road to freedom.

Alas, if she managed to wiggle herself off the hook and get away with a slap on the wrist, that was.

It was late in the standards of a regular day worker and Tav had to wonder if there had been an increase in petty crimes, or if it was an effect of some new government policy for a magistrate to be working this late into the evening. It was so late in fact, that there was barely anyone around, not even guards apparently, except for the random ones patrolling the hallways every now and then.

Must have been a real harsh pay cut to everyone.

Tav found the corresponding name and placate next to the door at the end of the hallway. She peered at the letter again and read the instructions stating her to arrive before the designated time, knock on the door and wait for it to be opened before entering. Otherwise, she was to sit aside and wait until she was let in.

Clenching her fists, Tav took a deep breath before tapping a couple stern knocks on the door and waited.

No response.

She looked around and found herself to be alone, then stepped closer and pressed her ear against the door to listen.

No sounds could be heard through the door. Either the room was empty, or the walls were magically enchanted to keep all sounds inside. Potentially to keep any incriminating statements out of curious outsider ears. She stepped back when a distant metal clinking echoed down the hallway. She took a quick seat at one of the small wooden stools lined next to the wall.

A lonesome guard wandered down the hallway, gloved hands balled to tight fists at their side, weapon ready at their hip, face like carved stone, stiff and unreadable. The guard marched before Tav, gave her a tired little smile, turned around and marched back the way they came from.

The metal clinking of the guard’s feet grew distant, finally disappearing into the distance. Tav was left alone once again.

Her gaze wandered around the space, the white walls, unassuming braziers and finally the sizable painting on the end wall of the corridor. It depicted a blindfolded maiden holding a golden scale – a common depiction of fair justice.

She peered at the woman’s covered eyes, wondering if justice was served blindly and without prejudice even by tired, overworked magistrates that were forced to work late into the evening.

She hoped the magistrate had at least been well fed, having heard terrible things about verdicts changing drastically depending whether a judge was hungry or not.

Time oozed by like thick oil and there was still no answer from the door beside her. Tav checked the letter in her hands for the time and date, comparing them to her pocket time-piece and the small calendar handily plastered above the magistrate’s name placate.

All was correct.

She had arrived on time, did as instructed and waited for an answer, and now it was way past her appointment and it wasn’t her fault that the proceedings would take longer. She seated herself once more and smirked smugly, pondering on using the magistrate’s potentially exhausted state to negotiate herself out out as quickly as possible.

Maybe, just maybe he would be so pent up from today’s proceedings he’d just dismiss her case altogether and they could both just go home.

The door clanked open and an older gnome exited. Tav made brief eye contact with him, recognizing them from another gig she partook in months ago.

This one was a peppy, we-can-do it kind of guy, but his current state reflected worn out desperation, like his spirits had been broken and what remained of them had been chewed out to the bones. He shut the door and turned away wordlessly, dragging his feet down the corridor, away from Tav and magistrate Ancunín’s office.

Tav swallowed nervously.

She recalled the gnome only had a small part in the gig, working as the handyman offering tools for the group. If the man responsible for tool handling looked like he had been sentenced for life, what would her door opening services get her?

The rope?

Tav felt a cold sweat rise to her neck and she gripped the edge of her stool until her knuckles turned white.

Perhaps she should have started being more honest with herself and admitted to having wandered to the wrong side of the law before someone else forced the truth upon her face like this.

The door cracked open again and Tav jumped to her feet, back stiff as a statue.

Magistrate Ancunín looked exactly what she had expected him to be and nothing like it at the same time.

Curly, silver locks swiped back from his face. One loose curl elegantly leaning over the right side of his forehead, as if by design, not accident. Pointy, pink tipped elf ears poking from under a tuft of more, unruly curls lining the side of his face. Two piercing gray eyes, glaring tiredly at her under stern eyebrows.

A handsome – No, beautiful – collection of features.

Tav felt a blush creep up her neck and cheeks, shocked at the surprisingly young looking magistrate’s beauty.

Magistrate Ancunín’s lips formed an unreadable, straight line, prominent laugh lines caging it on both sides of his face. He looked Tav up and down briefly. A wry, forced smile climbed upon his lips, bringing his laugh lines more into view.

“You’re late.” He stated coldly.

Tav’s eyes widened and whatever brief attraction she had for the man evaporated. She wanted to retort back and correct him, but bit her tongue instead.

“Inside.” The magistrate ordered and waved an uninterested hand at her before returning inside his office.

Tav forced a smile on her lips, determined not to show her displeasure and in turn prod the clearly very impatient magistrate further. She followed suit and shut the door as she went, quickly making her way deeper into the office.

The room was spacious and surrounded by heavy, tall bookshelves housing heavy, tall books of law. Miscellaneous scrolls poked out here and there in between them both, with an occasional paper and envelope to accompany them.

The middle of the office was left empty, decorated by an ornamental red carpet, handmade and expensive by the looks of it. At the end of the room sat a heavy mahogany desk littered with documents, letters, an inkwell, quills and a lone, uneaten red apple of all things.

An odd, magically infused crystal lamp provided dim light to the otherwise dark room from the side. Heavy purple curtains covered any leaking light from the streetlamps outside behind the magistrate’s desk, clouding most of the back room in darkness.

Magistrate Ancunín sat behind his desk on his immaculate, leather chair. Head leaned against his bowed elbows and crossed fingers, hiding his mouth from view, gray eyes inspecting Tav keenly.

Tav stood in the middle of the dim room, waiting for further orders.

“Sit.” Magistrate Ancunín commanded.

Tav grabbed the vacant chair in front of the desk and took a seat, polite smile still forced on her lips.

“Do you know why you are here?”

Tav felt like retorting and asking the man the same back, still miffed by the unjustified ruling over her punctuality. He could as well be leaning on her to recite her misdemeanors to him instead of having had prepared accordingly. That, or maybe he was testing her. Or worse, enjoyed verbally tormenting her before slamming a merciless guilty verdict on her.

She smiled and tilted her head, stealing a glance at the side.

“I believe the exact wording was: For aiding in breaking and entering. Oh, and trespassing.”

“Correct.” The magistrate said and picked up the document in front of him and looked it over.

He flapped the paper down and gave Tav a sly side smirk.

“...In addition to suspicions of aiding in other similar activities, not limited to: Breaking and entering. Robbery. Theft. Smuggling. Fencing stolen property and evading law enforcement. Oh. And trespassing.” He added and leaned back on his chair.

Tav’s smile broke a little and a scowl threatened to take over. She willed her face to stay neutral.

“Ah, but the key lies in the wording itself, your honor; suspicions, not proof.”

Magistrate Ancunín’s gaze sparked with interest and he leaned over the desk again.

“Observant one, aren’t you? It must have been bad luck on your end for getting caught that night. Otherwise, I have an inkling you wouldn’t be gracing me with your presence here. In this late hour. In my humble office.”

Tav smiled and read the tired frustration seeping between the magistrate’s words and demeanor.

“Bad luck indeed. Must have been equally bad luck on your part to be stuck in my presence. In this late hour.Iin your humble office.” She repeated and placed a hand on the table, leaning in.

“I believe it’s all just an inconvenient, circumstantial little mishap. Not worth a full trial, certainly not big enough to steal more of your precious time, your honor.” Tav pleaded confidently.

Magistrate Ancunín grinned.

“And what would you suggest we do about this, inconvenient, little mishap stealing my precious time?”

Tav leaned in further, meeting the magistrate’s gaze head on.

“A slap on the wrist, as they say, and I will disappear. We’ll both be free to go home for the night.”

He laughed.

“I’m afraid that’s not how this works.”

Tav leaned against the backrest, her smile now fully gone, replaced by a sullen frown.

“You see, while I appreciate your suggestion to save my time and yours, I however, cannot overlook the fact that this would benefit you more than me.” He mused and grabbed a pencil.

“It’s been a long, hard day and as much as I would love to let you go with a slap on the wrist and go home for the night, I believe there is a serious threat of you repeat offending and being sent back here to steal even more of my highly valuable, highly limited time again. A throughout punishment is in order, I’d say. To make sure you don’t forget why you don’t want to return to my office.” Magistrate Ancunín fixed Tav a sadistic gaze.

It was like he was playing with his food, uninterested in eating it before it jumped up and down, flipped around, pranced and finally begged and pleaded how he liked, before he would even allow it to see his tongue – or declared he wasn’t hungry in the first place and left it to rot on his plate.

“Well?”

“Yes, your honor?”

“You aren’t going to counter my accusations? Plea to soften my verdict?”

“I haven’t heard you come to a clear verdict yet, sir.”

“Guilty. Now, what do you suppose would be a fitting punishment for your misdemeanors?” He arched a brow, tilting the pencil to start writing onto the document in front of him.

“The punishment should fit the crime I would assume. You tell me, your honor.”

“As you wish. I’ll just add in ‘arriving late’ and ‘refusal to cooperate’ to the list first…” The magistrate grabbed the pencil properly and pulled the document closer to himself.

“I wasn’t late.”

“Pardon?” His gaze snapped back to Tav.

“I wasn’t late. I was here before you were finished with your latest customer. I knocked on the door, didn’t hear and answer and sat down to wait, as instructed on the letter.” She pulled out the summons letter and placed it on the desk.

Magistrate Ancunín didn’t even glance at the letter she offered.

“Are you implying I am a liar?”

“Not implying sir, accusing would be the correct term.”

The magistrate sat back on his chair, eyes wide and wild.

“You’re accusing me of being a liar?”

“Yes, your honor. I think we both know you are.”

“Interesting.” He tilted his head.

“… And what will you do with this bold accusation of yours? Convince someone of my wicked ways? Put me on trial?”

“Well I-”

Tav knew this wasn’t a good idea. Even if she knew the magistrate was full of lies, she didn’t have a proper leg to stand on against him. He would just push her down with his superior power and influence, as all great men tended to do to those they perceived to be standing beneath them.

“… Forgive me. I think I spoke out of line, sir.”

“That’s more like it. I’ll correct my notes to read ‘complicit and cooperative’ instead.”

Tav remained silent.

“Now. Back to your punishment. What do you think I should do with you?”

“I don’t suppose letting me just go is an option?”

The magistrate chuckled.

“Persistent, aren’t you?” He sounded almost amused.

“If it’s the verdict you come to, it would be the truth. After all, you aren’t a liar, sir.”

Magistrate Ancunín fixed Tav an intense kind of stare. She stared equally as intensively back. He resumed playing with his pencil before setting it neatly on his desk. He crossed his fingers and leaned comfortably over the desk.

“You would be absolutely correct about that. Alas, the problem lies not in what the truth will be, but what you have on offer for me to enforce said truth.”

Tav perked up slightly. She had gotten lucky after all. Magistrate Ancunín might have been an asshole and a liar, but one of these traits would benefit her if she just knew the right cards to play.

“You don’t suppose some good old gold would settle all this?” She offered.

“Mmh. I doubt whatever amount it is you’re thinking is enough to make up for this.”

“How about community service then?”

“What kind of community service?”

Tav shrugged and peeked around the office.

“You need something opened very late at night, perhaps something small delivered some place without detection…” Tav listed nonchalantly.

“Anything else?”

She returned her gaze to him. He looked slightly interested and more at ease, almost relaxed, if it wasn’t for the ever present frown on his brows. The man looked tired still, exhausted even. He was definitely overworked and hadn’t had a proper break in awhile. He was stressed, tense, like a piano string wrung up too tightly, ready to snap at any moment.

“A massage…?”

“A massage?” The magistrate repeated in surprise.

“Forgive me if I am mistaken, but you look rather... tense, sir.”

“You aren’t mistaken on that part.” He admitted with a raised brow.

“Would you allow me to relieve some of that tension, your honor?” Tav asked sweetly.

“Ever so polite, aren’t you, darling?” Magistrate Ancunín said with a smile.

The petname caught Tav by surprise and she felt a blush rush to her cheeks. She blinked and forced a smile.

“Always, sir.”

“Why not? I suppose it couldn’t do any harm.”

Magistrate Ancunín stood up from his chair and gestured for Tav to stand up with him. She did as commanded and circled the desk to where he was. The magistrate moved his chair to the side to give them free roam near his desk.

He was over a head taller than Tav. His body was slim and his shoulders looked much broader in contrast thanks to it. The air around him gave off an atmosphere of patient authority, something one would expect from a man working in such a high position.

He wore a frill collared jacket made of the finest light blue silks. Silver threaded peonies adorned the front of it. Trails of ornamental threads ran along the cuts of the fabric, every piece carefully tailored to fit his shape.

His legs were covered by similarly colored straight trousers. Plain and uninteresting compared to his jacket that screamed wealth and dignity. His shiny leather shoes provided a dark contrast to the rest of his outfit, having a grounding effect to his looks.

A striking difference to what Tav was wearing. What she had on currently, were some of her more nicer clothes. It was like setting a polished sapphire and a nice, water smoothed stone next to one another. It clearly paid well to be a professional liar in the right place.

Tav settled behind him and the magistrate watched her each move from the edge of his vision. She reached her hands and gripped over the magistrate’s shoulders, starting to rub the firm, tense muscles there in circles.

“Mmmh.” Magistrate Ancunín hummed in pleasure.

“Is that good sir?”

“Very good, darling.”

Tav smiled at the praise and kept going. She worked the top of his shoulders, sometimes dipping over towards his collarbones, to the sides of his biceps and down his back, closer to his shoulder blades.

Even through his fine layers of clothes it was evident to Tav that this man was in excellent shape despite his lanky proportions. He started to noticeably relax the more she massaged him.

“...What else did you have on offer?”

Tav thought through the question as she continued to work on the magistrate’s stiff shoulders. She let her hands wander down along his arms a little.

“Perhaps I could ease the tension on some other parts of your body?” She offered.

The magistrate peeked over his shoulder before fully turning towards her. Tav removed her hands. The magistrate had an inquisitive brow lifted.

“Such as…?”

Tav felt a nervous sting in her stomach. She realized the accidentally loaded implications of her words and let her gaze fall to the man’s chest.

“Your pecks- I mean back, sir.”

He chuckled.

“Aren’t you just adorable?”

Tav froze as a violent rush of heat flooded to her face. Magistrate Ancunín looked proud of himself and searched through her eyes, considering.

“It would be more efficient if I were to undress slightly, wouldn’t it?”

“Eh?”

Magistrate Ancunín smirked deviously and pulled his frilly collar loose and unbuttoned the top layer of his tailored coat. Tav followed his hands with her gaze and felt her heartbeat increase the more buttons popped open.

He pulled his coat off and settled it over the back of his chair, then started on his long sleeved undershirt.

Tav wanted to speak up and tell him it was enough, but she couldn’t. Something in her urged to remain silent and let the events unravel before her as they did. Soon, magistrate Ancunín stood before her shirtless, his well defined pecks and abdomen in full view.

Tav gawked at his perfect skin, her fingertips itching to reach and touch him. She looked him up and down, admiring his figure. The smile on magistrate Ancunín’s lips told her everything she had to know.

“Well, you aren’t just going to stand and gawk there?”

Tav blinked in an attempt to get her wits back, but the sight of magistrate Ancunín’s naked torso had chased most of them away, possibly permanently.

“Oh, of course sir.” Tav moved to stand behind him again.

The magistrate turned with her, staying face to face.

“Ah ah, not my back. You said pecks first, didn’t you?”

Tav froze and her eyes widened. Her gaze dropped at the half naked man’s muscular pecks and remained there.

“Yes. My mistake, sir.” She said half out of breath.

“You are absolved.”

Tav reached to touch magistrate Ancunín’s pecks and began massaging them in circular motions. She tried to keep her breathing calm despite her body’s increased need for more air. She faked appearing confident and stole glances up at the magistrate’s face every now and then, finding his eyes transfixed onto hers each time.

“You’re doing excellent, little pet.”

Tav couldn’t force down the smile and an accidental giggle escaped her. She tried to hide it with a loud clearing of her throat, but the magistrate had noticed it.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

“Ih… forgive me sir, I didn’t mean…”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head at her.

“We can’t have that, now can we? You are to be punished for your crimes, not rewarded for them. Although… if you behave, I suppose a little reward is in order…”

“A reward, sir?” Tav’s voice pitched from excitement.

“Punishment first, pet.” He nodded.

Tav locked eyes with him and nodded with him. He peeked down her body, then leaned close to her face.

“Strip.”

Tav’s eyes widened and she looked herself over. She studied the look on magistrate Ancunín’s eyes and determined he was serious.

“And… if I don’t?”

“Is this not what you want…?” He countered and lolled his head to the side curiously.

Tav felt heat surge to her loins. A pressure formed inside her lower abdomen and she was suddenly aware of the growing slickness between her legs. She sucked on her lips and nodded.

“Yes. Yes it is… your honor.”

“I thought so.” He smiled and snapped his fingers.

“Now, strip.”

Tav bit her lower lip and stepped back, removed her jacket and dropped it on the floor. She began to unbutton her undershirt while magistrate Ancunín watched her with a smirk.

She struggled to hop out of her shoes and trousers, somewhat clumsily ridding herself of her clothes all at once. Soon, she stood before magistrate Ancunín in her underwear.

He gave her a questioning look.

“Naked.” He said.

The breath in Tav’s lungs halted and she nodded, slid the straps of her bras off her shoulders and reached behind to unbuckle them without question, setting her breasts free. Her nipples hardened against the cool air of the office.

She discarded her bra on top of the pile of her other clothes and pulled down her panties, letting them drop down to her ankles. Panting, she stepped out of them, feeling hot slickness rub along her inner thighs.

Magistrate Ancunín grinned and stepped forth.

“Why are you here?” He asked, slowly circling around her.

The repeat question caught Tav off guard.

“Because of my crimes, sir?”

“Because you’re a bad girl, no?”

“I’m…”

The situation she was in started to catch up to her. Tav realized she was inside the top floor of the court house, alone with a shirtless magistrate, naked. Like a scene straight from some cheap smut chapbook circled around Amn. This wasn’t how she expected things to go or how she would negotiate herself off trouble, but didn’t really mind how things looked for her currently.

“B-because I’m a bad girl… magistrate sir.” She panted with a smile, playing along.

“Bad girls need to be punished accordingly before they can become good girls. You want to be a good girl, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Yes who?”

“Yes, magistrate Ancunín!”

“Good girl.”

Tav felt herself grow wetter over the praise and gnawed on her bottom lip harder. She watched as magistrate Ancunín stopped in front of her, his gray eyes dark. She focused on the way he slowly wet his lips before speaking up again.

“I couldn’t help but notice what a beautiful mouth you have, darling. Not only is your tongue clever with words, I’m sure you can put it to good use on other matters.” He alluded.

Tav nodded, stealing a glance down his front. He extended an arm and curled most of his fingers up into a fist, pointing down at the floor with his index finger.

“On your knees darling.”

Tav’s mouth gaped slightly and she obeyed wordlessly. She got on her knees and looked up at the magistrate as he approached. He unbuckled his belt. Tav ogled as he pulled the belt off and tossed it over the arm rest of his chair. Her eyes flickered down to the man’s crotch and the way his long, deft fingers unbuttoned his trousers.

Unsurprisingly, his underwear seemed to be as fine and expensive as the rest of his clothes, fitting the rest of his getup seamlessly. A man of style and principle. The blue and silver threads of his undergarments were stretched at the front, strained by the growing weight of his half erect cock underneath.

Tav let out a tiny whimper when magistrate Ancunín pulled out his heated flesh. The lean shaft of his cock was as pale as the rest of him and deliciously flushed closer to the tip. The word ‘elegant’ described it perfectly. His trousers folded below his ankles and he stepped out of them while adjusting his underwear lower.

“Lips apart, darling.”

Eyes adoringly fixated on the magistrate’s cock, Tav parted her lips as commanded.

“Lick.” Came the order.

Tav wiggled closer on her knees and leaned in, mouth open, tongue extended, hearing her pulse drum in her ears. She slithered the flat of her tongue from the underside of the magistrate’s engorged dick to its swollen tip with a sigh.

She repeated the action and peeked up momentarily to see the approving smirk on magistrate Ancunín’s face.

“That’s a good pet.” He praised and Tav felt something akin to butterflies flutter inside her chest.

Eager to hear more, she continued her ministrations and started to lap all over the magistrate’s cock. She began properly from the base, continued up the underside of his shaft, twirling around his cockhead and went back down to its base around the sides, then repeated the motions like a ritual.

Magistrate Ancunín’s breathing was starting to grow heftier, as was his hardened length. His erection reached it’s peak as Tav kept lavishing his member with the slick attention of her tongue, her own loins already soaking wet at this point.

A droplet of precum formed at the tip of magistrate Ancunín’s dick and Tav pulled back briefly to admire it.

“Suck.” Came the one word order from the slightly hoarse voice of the magistrate above.

Tav huffed hot air over the glistening wet tip and opened wide, let the cocktip slip between her lips and gave it a gentle suck.

Magistrate Ancunín tensed and let out a muffled growl. One of his hands found its way among Tav’s hair and grabbed a hold, before starting to pet through her soft locks gently, encouragingly.

Tav closed her eyes and swallowed more of the length in front of her, minding her teeth and carefully applying pressure with her lips and tongue. She began to bob her head back and forth slowly, listening to the tiny grunts of approval elicited by magistrate Ancunín above her.

She had experience sucking up to authority, but this was a new form of doing so entirely. Despite the clear, outrageous imbalance of power between them, she found herself feeling safe and pleased by the situation she was in – trouble like this was what she enjoyed finding herself in the most.

She felt oddly powerful down on her knees in front of him. The thought of being able to render a man of such high status as magistrate Ancunín into a whimpering mess just with her mouth excited her further.

The wet heat between her legs demanded attention and one of her hands slipped to soothe her aching clit. She got so lost among the pleasure of sucking the magistrate off while touching herself that she lost the rhythm of her mouth more than once.

A snap of fingers brought her out of her zone.

“What do you think you’re doing down there? Both hands where I can see them. Now.”

Tav furrowed her brows and huffed with her mouth stuffed with dick and removed the hand attending to her own growing need. She placed both of her hands up against the magistrate’s thighs and focused back on sucking him off.

“Eyes on me, darling.” Came the call from above.

Tav’s gaze snapped up and above, meeting magistrate Ancunín’s pleased gaze and self-satisfied grin. His gray eyes looked down upon her with a glint of sadistic joy, the thrill of having power over someone.

“You’re being such a good girl. Keep going.”

Tav couldn’t help the smile that wrung to the edges of her lips and blinked a couple times, slowly starting back up again. Her gaze ate in the way the magistrate above her shivered and twitched each time she pushed his length down as far as she could muster, feeling the hot flesh throb against her own.

Her fingers dug against the soft skin of magistrate Ancunín’s thighs, both in search of support and to heed the earlier command to keep her hands in his sight. The man above her shut his eyes, lost in his own pleasure, his surveillance of her growing lazy. She could easily slide one of her hands off his legs and he wouldn’t notice it returning between her legs.

Yet the new need to obey and be recognized as ‘a good girl’ somehow overpowered Tav’s natural urge to disobey – for now.

Magistrate Ancunín whimpered above Tav and held onto her head, gesturing for her to stop. She could tell he was close, having felt his flesh tremble and his balls constricting in anticipation of his release. He pulled back and shot Tav with a mirthful glance.

“On your feet.”

Tav swallowed the excess spit still in her mouth and licked her lips. She got up on her wobbly feet, knees feeling slightly achy from supporting her against the office’s hard plank flooring. A trail of hot wetness trickled down between her legs as she did.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” The magistrate raised a brow.

Tav met his strong gaze and nodded sheepishly, lips still wet and gleaming.

“Bad girl.”

He raised his hand once again and gestured for her to turn around. Tav spun on her heels and found herself facing the magistrate’s work desk. Magistrate Ancunín reached past her and swiped the documents and items crowding the center of the desk to the sides, clearing empty space in the middle.

Tav stared at the shiny dark surface of the mahogany desk and was sure if it was polished a hint further, she could see the wild arousal burning behind her eyes reflected from it.

“Bend over it.” Magistrate Ancunín ordered.

Tav closed the gap between her and the desk, then laid her hands over its gleaming smooth surface to test it. She bent her upper body over it until the base of her legs stopped her from going any further along it. She felt a firm grip take a hold of the back of her head and gently force her face down against the table. Her chest and perk nipples squashed against the table’s cool surface. She sighed from the contact.

She felt another hand trail up her spine sensually, the magistrate’s surprisingly calloused palm feeling up the arch of her back and the dip between her shoulder blades.

A cool, leather shoe tapped below on the insides of her bare ankles, ushering them apart. With the domineering hand laid over her neck keeping her head in place, Tav felt cornered enough for the will to disobey rise back up again. She kept her feet where they were.

“No?” Asked the magistrate curiously.

Tav breathed against the hard desk, glancing back at the magistrate standing at the edges of her vision. She heard the floor creak lightly as he stepped closer and felt the heat of his flushed skin hover near hers.

“Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?” The magistrate asked softly, petting her hair.

Tav shook her head as best as she could and smirked disobediently.

Magistrate Ancunín tutted at her and she could barely make out the way he shook his head in disapproval. The hand at the back of her neck tightened its grip and pressed her face harder against the desk.

She whimpered.

“Quiet.”

She stilled and listened.

“Maybe I need to remind you why you should behave?”

Tav swallowed heavily and waited. She felt deft fingers slide between her thighs and brush over her wet folds to her neglected clit. Her hips shivered at the contact and her lungs let out a gasp. The fingers kept rubbing at her ache and the heat at her center wound up tighter. She let out a pleased moan.

“You like that, don’t you?”

The magistrate’s clever fingers glided over her wet folds next, teasing around her hot entrance. Tav shivered at the growing feeling of emptiness around her yearning flesh. The fingers poked at the twitching entrance leading to her leaking canal, never breaching in deeper than that. Tav huffed out of frustration.

“Beg for it.”

Magistrate Ancunín’s touch froze near her entrance and Tav bit her lower lip in excited silence. She relaxed her lower back and parted her legs, sighing deeply before peeking back at the magistrate.

“Please, magistrate Ancunín?”

“Please what?”

“Please… feel up my cunt with your fingers, sir?”

“Hm. Better.”

Tav hummed as a warm digit slid up to the knuckle within her wetness and curled.

“A-ahh…!” She jerked at the sudden stimulus.

The magistrate kept rubbing at the roof of her depths, clearly aware of the sweetspot lingering around there. Tav’s legs shook with every jolt of pleasure, her hips starting to rock against the invading pressure.

“Hold still.”

Tav halted on her tracks, her breathing shallow and laboured. The finger inside of her pressed up against the ache and she struggled not to move.

“I’m certain you’re aware it could be something entirely different easing all this tension within you, yes?”

“Yes, magistrate Ancunín, I am aware.”

With a chuckle the magistrate rubbed his hard cock along her inner thigh and outer folds for emphasis. The finger inside of her curled again, applying more relieving pressure against her lustful ache. Tav sucked in her lips to keep her voice in.

“Ask for forgiveness and I might consider giving you more relief than just my finger.”

He rubbed his finger against her inner walls a couple more times before pulling out entirely. Tav whined as she felt the emptiness around her, the need throbbing inside of her, craving to be filled.

“Please forgive me, magistrate sir. I’ve… been such a bad girl and I must be punished.”

“As you wish, my sweet. Punished you shall be.”

Tav felt the comforting heat of magistrate Ancunín step away from her. He settled out of her view, but kept the hand over her neck firmly in place. Tav waited, listening to him rummage around his shelves.

Suddenly, an hourglass was placed in front of her face. The sand was all piled at the bottom and the magistrate’s fingers tilted it to show it off to her.

“This hourglass will be the length your punishment will last. You can endure until the last strand of sand has fallen, can’t you darling?”

The hourglass seemed relatively small and would last a minute, maximum of three, or more. Tav had no idea how long it would actually take, most definitely a calculated move on magistrate Ancunín’s part. Another devilish way to amp up her discomfort in addition to the sweet torture he was about to inflict upon her.

Tav bent the arm next to her face to see the item better and tried to look where magistrate Ancunín was.

“But you must not make a sound, otherwise I will tip the hourglass over again until you remain completely silent, understood? This is a punishment, after all. Knock on the desk once if you understand.”

Tav clenched her fingers into a fist and knocked on the desk once.

“Good. Now, as to not sully our fun little punishment game, knock repeatedly against the desk if it becomes too much to bear and I will stop. If you stop however, there will be no reward for you, unfortunately. Only good, obedient girls get rewarded. Knock once if you understand.”

Tave knocked once.

“Excellent. Now, lets play.” The magistrate said with a notable thrill in his voice.

Tav took a deep inhale and braced herself for what was to come. The hourglass in front of her was flipped and the sand began to drain.

A sharp smack hit her left buttock. She jolted from surprise. Another slap hit her right buttock and left it tingling the same way her left side did.

She knocked repeatedly against the desk before the third strike could land. The magistrate halted and leaned over her to peek at her face. Tav gave him a coy little smile.

“Sweetheart, are you testing me?” Magistrate Ancunín’s voice sounded playfully shocked.

Tav knocked once.

He chuckled delightfully.

“Do you want me to stop altogether or was this just a test? Knock once to stop, twice to continue.”

Tav watched as the sand in front of her in the hourglass kept draining. She knocked twice.

“Very well then, but ah, would you look at that. I left the hourglass running. Interrupting me like that will extend your punishment, I’m afraid.”

The magistrate resumed spanking Tav with his bare hand, lavishing both of her ass cheeks with plenty of attention. Tav managed to keep quiet through it all, feeling her ass start to tingle and warm up from the repeated strikes against it. The vibrations from each strike traveled to her folds and clit, granting her a teasingly small amount of stimulus that only served to increase the want in her.

The sand drained to the end and magistrate Ancunín paused to tip the hourglass over.

Each slap echoed inside the otherwise silent office of the magistrate as he continued on. He alternated between light and hard strikes, randomly switching between each ass cheek every now and then, pausing at times to create anticipation and hoping to catch Tav off guard.

The pain ebbing on Tav’s behind was starting to sting and she bit down on her lower lip to keep herself from whimpering. She panted hard against the wooden desk, her moist breath misting its gleaming surface. Eyes focused on the slowly draining hourglass in front of her, mustering herself to keep quiet.

Tav began to sweat from the heat of the situation, small droplets trickling down her back and sides in tandem to the heavy trickles of wetness seeping down between her thighs, smearing the hard wooden floor below.

She wanted to disobey so badly, but felt the pain on her backside starting to turn uncomfortably numb with each new spank. She licked her lips, glaring at the hourglass to drain faster, eager to taste the reward for enduring her punishment so well.

Then the final strand of sand fell and the spanking halted. She let out a loud hum of exhaustion, feeling her neglected cunt throb in need.

The hand over her neck was removed and she raised her head to peek over her shoulder.

“That’s a good girl. You endured so well despite the interruption at the start.”

Tav flashed a brief smile.

“Now then, as promised. Good girl’s get rewarded for their efforts.” Magistrate Ancunín said and moved to stand behind Tav.

His still erect cock slid under Tav’s swollen cunt and his hips pressed flush against her aching behind. She hissed at the contact.

“Shhhh… I’ll make it better soon. Now, what do we say when we want something?”

Magistrate Ancunín began to rub her aching ass cheeks with both hands while waiting for her reply.

“Please, sir?”

“Please what, my dear?”

“Your cock, sir. I need your cock inside of me, please?”

“Good girl.”

He pulled away and nudged the head of his cock at Tav’s leaking entrance. He grabbed her hips and pushed in with little effort. Tav moaned wantonly and moved to accommodate him further. The magistrate sighed with pleasure and his grip on her hips tightened as he bottomed out. Tav felt his hot breath against her neck as he bent over her back.

“Oh, you sweet thing. So wet for me.” He panted and began to rock against her softly.

Tav gasped and wiggled under him, her knees shaking from their continuous efforts to stay afoot, backside still tender from the punishment.

“Mmhh… Hold still.” His hand snuck into Tav’s hair and yanked her head back.

Tav whimpered and stilled as best as she could. The magistrate continued to pound into her in languid motions, slow and relaxed, his cock hot and rigid inside Tav’s needy cunt. His grip on her hair kept her head bent back.

She bit her lower lip and enjoyed the way the magistrate’s cock filled her, relieving the heated tension building inside of her. Her wet folds wrapped around him, tightening whenever he pulled out, relaxing as he pushed in, welcoming him back into her depths, begging him not to leave.

She felt the coil in her lower abdomen tighten and felt her release getting closer. Her breathing grew heavy and erratic. Her sweaty fingers grasped at the desk underneath it desperately, her head bent back by magistrate Ancunín’s hand pulling on her hair.

“M-magistrate… Ancunín…!” She whimpered breathlessly.

A broken yelp left her when the magistrate pulled out of her unprompted. His hand released her hair. She shivered and turned to look behind her.

“Turn over.” The magistrate panted.

Tav blinked and pushed herself up from the desk with some effort. She flipped over and magistrate Ancunín helped her lay down on her back on top of the desk. He grabbed her knees and spread her legs, aligning himself between them and pushed back inside her with a loud groan before crashing their lips together.

He licked at her upper lip and wasted no time pushing his tongue between her teeth and intertwined it with hers. She kissed him back with the same fervor, both of their moans muffled by each other’s hungry mouths.

Tav blinked at him through the kiss and watched as his face softened with pleasure. The tense frown was gone, replaced by a pleased furrow instead. He broke off and a broken string of spit fell onto Tav’s breasts. Magistrate Ancunín grinned as he gripped Tav’s sides and fucked into her harder.

“You were so obediently quiet before. I want to hear you scream in turn.” He panted and smirked wickedly.

He slammed his hips into Tav and her eyes rolled back in reaction to the mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Ahhh!” She moaned.

“Louder, darling. Nobody except me can hear you inside these walls.”

He slammed into her again.

“AhhHHHnh!”

“Louder.”

“AHHHHH MAGISTRATE ANCUNÍN!!!” Tav shouted blissfully.

“You’re so pretty when you say my name…”

Tav’s face contorted and her whole body shivered.

“M-magistrate… Ancun… ín… I’m going to… going to…!”

“You’ll cum when I say you can, darling.”

Tav heaved in blissful frustration, her back arching off the desk, ass tender, legs shaking against the magistrate’s sides as she fought against her approaching orgasm. The magistrate slowed down to help her come down, his own body jerking every now and then to chase his own building release.

He stopped still and lifted his hands to play with Tav’s chest. He cupped both of her tits and massaged them, rubbing her perk nipples with his thumbs. She moaned and clawed around his desk for something to grab hold of. The magistrate chuckled.

“Why are you here?”

Tav whined and struggled for words.

“B-because I’m a… a bad girl, your honor…!”

The magistrate pinched her nipples and pulled on them while sliding out of her painfully slow.

“Do you want to be a bad girl?” He questioned and rubbed Tav’s nipples sensually.

Her head thrashed from one side to the other.

“N-no… sir!” She whined, her legs trying to wrap around his waist and pull him back inside of her.

“I-I… I want to be a good girl!” Tav added and pleaded at the magistrate with her eyes, nodding frantically.

She was so agonizingly close. Her abdomen was beginning to hurt from the unfulfilled need. She felt her eyes grow moist from the tears that welled in them.

Magistrate Ancunín gave her a warm smile and gave her nipples one final pinch before releasing them. Tav sighed from the loss of contact, her chest now tingling the same way her ass was.

“You promise to remain a good girl after you leave my office?”

Tav nodded.

“Yes! Yes, I promise magistrate Ancunín sir!” She panted enthusiastically.

“Good girl.” He grinned and slammed back into her.

Tav screamed and threw her head back, letting her voice out in long, broken moans and whimpers as the magistrate began to fuck her in earnest. Her wet walls relaxed to let him in, allowing his length deeper inside.

“P-please… Magistrate Ancunín! Please let me cum!!” She pleaded weakly.

“Not yet, darling. You can hold off a little longer.”

Tav whined and nodded.

Magistrate Ancunín’s own voice broke out and he whined in rhythm to his hips. He hissed and bit his lip, his punishing pace losing focus.

Tav writhed under him, her wet folds pulsing from her barely held back release. She groaned almost painfully, tears breaking free from the corners of her eyes.

“Now darling, cum for me!” He commanded and Tav’s pleasure exploded beneath him.

She screamed his name from the bottom of her lungs and arched her back, her needy cunt milking his throbbing length. Magistrate Ancunín followed soon after, losing himself in her and let go with a husky little whimper. His whole body shook against Tav as his hips rocked into her, jerking the last of his pent up need into her.

He stilled and gasped for air, trickles of sweat now streaming down his face and chest. Tav panted under him, her eyes shut tight as the aftershocks of her orgasm still shook through her nerves. The magistrate pushed himself up, pulled away and stepped back shakily before slumping onto his leather chair.

Tav’s legs felt like uncontained liquid and as soon as they had nothing to support them, fell open and dangled over the firm mahogany desk she was laid on top of.

The office was filled with nothing but their heavy breathing for a good while before an oddly comforting silence took its place. Tav blinked up at the ceiling above, her heartbeat and breathing now calm and steady.

She finally came to enough to push herself up to sit on her still aching ass. She found magistrate Ancunín leaning on an elbow, seated comfortably on his leather chair, legs crossed, his underwear pulled back up and trousers firmly buttoned up again.

His chest was still rising and lowering noticeably heavy, his brows gleaming with sweat.

“I think this concludes your trial. I deem you free to go with a warning. This time.”

Tav managed a weak smile and inched herself off the desk. Her knees felt wobbly, her buttocks ached, and her nipples were swollen, but the pleasant heat now thrumming at her core made everything feel better. She was free to go and more than that, exhilarated by the success of their negotiations.

The magistrate allowed her a moment more of his time to clean up before exiting his office for the night.

On her way down the hall and the near infinite amount of stairs, Tav thought back on her little gigs at the edges of law and was glad to have trailed off to the wrong side of the law for once.

Feeling the combined fluids of their heated negotiations slick the insides of her underwear, she itched to be bad again, in hopes of finding herself back within magistrate Ancunín’s office to be reminded how to be a good girl once more.

[thesilvertheorist]

• now •

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

plot: five needs help, sexually

warnings/tags: smut (obviously), mdni, sub!five, soft!dom reader, office sex, PiV sex, unprotected sex (because they're idiots, don't do that), mummy kink if you squint, five calls reader mama, established relationship, EVERYONE IS 18+, set in S4.

Masterlist

Five had always had an air of impatience about him. Throughout the time that you’d known him, the years that you’d spent trapped by his insufferable sass and sharp wit, his lack of patience with everyone from his family to innocent coffee shop baristas became increasingly evident with each passing day. The new life that Five had to carve out for himself in yet another timeline became the biggest bug-bare on his list, he despised having to create yet another persona for yet another life which he felt had no meaning. It wasn’t until you convinced him that he’d reached his goal of ensuring his family is safe and alive, that he began to alter his perspective.

His attitude did not change immediately though. He found both of you entry level positions at the CIA to keep both of your active minds from disintegrating in the Hargreeves hellscape you were both landed in. Each of you were promoted into the same field and same position, seeing as your skillsets were matched and you could both decode mysteries easily. Who would have thought that years of saving the world would give you the credentials to work for the CIA? Your supervisor ensured that you were partnered on every investigation, swearing that you two could only deliver quality results together, listing off numerous failed solo-mission attempts. You and five were together day in and day out, with never any time for yourselves.

To be so close to someone you have loved for so long, who loves you in equal, abundant amounts, having to spend all of your time together investigating meaningless suspicious activities from the community to no end other than preserving what was left of your collective sanity was, in a word, exhausting. Neither of you could continue down this route. You had to get some alone time, quality time. No personas, no false smiles to superiors, no pleasantries or manners necessary. Five mirrored your thoughts, he was becoming more and more frazzled by the minute. His appearance never changed, as not to let colleagues know his struggle but you could see the grey under his eyes and the bitten down nails on his right hand. It didn’t take much for you to notice that he was losing his brain, forgetting where he’d put his favourite fountain pen when it was poking out of his pocket, his inability to tie his shoelaces correctly the first time due to a cloudy mind and shaky hands. Five was nothing short of losing it. You had to do something; it was cruel to let him suffer like this.

So, when Five walked into your shared office space with a new case file and an unreadable look on his face, you had to jump in and rescue him from his all-encompassing-black-hole of a brain. He bypassed his desk, not even glancing at the mess of papers and untidy case files he’d thoughtlessly left himself, walking directly to yours. You were sat in your desk chair, a sleek model that spun around. It wasn’t particularly comfortable but work and comfort never seemed to go hand in hand for you. Five handed you the file, stamped urgent, with a sombre look in his eyes that he was hiding from you. He went to speak, likely something to do with how neither of you would be going home tonight and how this case needed immediate attention, but he didn’t get further than opening that pretty mouth of his before you were cutting him off.

“Does this have to be completed today, Five?” you asked sharply, knowing if you gave even an inch with your wording, he’d have you both running on fume around the city all night amending this case.

“It says urgent.” He sighs in response, still not lifting his gaze to meet yours.

“That’s not what I asked.” You push. Unsure if he even knows the answer in his current state.

He doesn’t answer, he just stays there, unmoving. His abject inability to process the priority level of the file in your hands was all you needed to confirm the plan you’d already had in your head. Five heavily dislikes being overridden, he’ll bark at anyone who dares even motion towards a plan other than his. However, it’s becoming unbearable for him. You know him and you know him well. He’s silently waiting for you to reach out for him and take the crushing weight off his shoulders as you have always done when he’s met the end of his tether. This was nothing new to you, the signs were there. He needed you, desperately.

You turned your chair and stood up, case file still in hand. Five still didn’t move, staring at that same spot on your desk, letting you move around him. You move behind him, leaning into his space, breathing his air. You trap him between you and your desk, not with your hands, instead you do this with your presence. He remains still save for his head tilting over his left shoulder slightly so he can hear you better, eyes as avoidant as ever.

“Five?” you ask, checking he’s with you and not in his head.

“Mm…” he hums in response, so quiet that you’d be unable to hear him if you were any further away, his eyes falling closed.

“I’m going to be honest with you here, Sweetheart. I don’t think we’re up to this so soon after the last run.” you state, reaching around him to gently drop the file onto your desk.

As you reach around five, his back meets you and he all but collapses into your touch, his head leaning back onto your shoulder. He finds it a struggle to remain upright. All he wants to do is fall back into you, let you keep him safe whilst he drifts off into a comforted sleep for the first time in days…but his body betrays him. He starts to feel his body reacting to your soft breath on his ear and neck, your arms snaking their way around his waist to pull him even closer, your soft hum of amusement at his reaction sends him spiralling. He tries to fight himself off, tries to regain control of his body and force it to listen to his overtired brain. The only thing he has complete control of is his voice, meek and mild as it is.

“We have to go now, we’ll be in trouble if we don’t and I-” he starts to ramble, overcompensating for the mush that his mind is turning into.

His usual act of impatience isn’t flying this time, you don’t even allow him the satisfaction of finishing his, rather rushed, sentence.

“No, Five. The only thing that we are doing now is this.” you purr, authority and control creeping into your tone.

“Now?” Five mewls, leaning further into you, dropping his weight almost entirely.

He doesn’t know what he can handle, how much of it, for how long, or if he could even handle anything at all. The only thing that he knows is that he wants anything that you’ll give him, in its entirety. He wants you to pull him from his own mind, reach out for him in the blackest depths of his waning consciousness only to submerge him in you, drown him in you so that he has something to focus on. He wants you to make yourself the centre of his reality, force him to yield to your gravitational pull. He wants to be suffocated in the pure air that is your perfume, feel the silk of your skin caress his own, let your hair fall over him and shield him from the world outside of your shared embrace. Nothing has a higher priority on his list in this moment. He’s become desperate.

“Now.” You affirm, steering his impatient nature, giving him focus.

Five melts under your touch. You move your hands from his waist to his belt, hooking your fingers around the loops and using them to spin him around slowly. He moans as he moves, as if even that small time not touching you would unbalance him entirely. He swoons round, grateful when you gently push him onto your desk, fingers still on his belt loops. You take in the sight that is Five Hargreeves. Leaning on the edge of your desk, face flushed, eyes half-lidded, mouth ever so slightly agape…patiently waiting for your next move. You look over to the (ridiculously uncomfortable) sofa in the room, a small coffee table in front of it covered in yet more disregarded papers.

“Can you make it over to the sofa, Pretty boy?” you coo, already guessing his answer.

“N-no, can’t, need you-” he chokes, pulling at your fitted blouse.

“Darling, we’re going over there, you’ll be much more comfortable,” you begin, moving your hand up to brush the hair from his eyes, caressing his face as you do so, “with me, okay?”

You take Five by the hand, he grips you with an intensity you wouldn’t have expected if you only spared him a passing glance. You’re his only hope now, the only way he gets back to any sense of comfort and rest. He clings to you knowing that you’ll pull him from this. slowly, he lets you lead him over to the sofa and sit him down, the air leaving him as his body falls limp against it. His hand hasn’t left yours, he doesn’t know what you’ve got planned, but he’s more than ready to receive. He’s dropping further and further into that mushy brained state of his, the one he’s only ever let you see…let you handle.

“Please,” he breathes.

“Please what? What do you need, Five?” you tease, knowing he couldn’t answer you even if he did manage to un-fog his brain.

“You, please, needyounow- please mama…help me” he drabbled, clutching at you even more.

Five didn’t trust himself in this state, he didn’t trust his surroundings, the only reliable thing in his world was you. He needed your help, he couldn’t make sense of what was going on. He needed you to switch his brain off and reboot it, needed you to take him to pieces and rebuild him. you were more than happy to oblige, eager even. You slip off your office kitten heels, kicking them to the side and climb onto the sofa – straddling Five, earning more pretty gasps from his lips.

“You’re already doing so well for me, Sweetheart. Can you keep going for me?” you whisper.

“Yes, I-I can, please mama, I’ll do anything…” he whines in response.

It’s always bewildered you, Five’s neediness. Not because he’s needy, because he wants you to help him. It’s a privilege you never take for granted, his trust in you is the greatest honour of your life. Before you can think further into the pure pleasure it is having him beneath you, Five wraps his arms around your waist and back, pulling you flush to him, and utters the sluttiest thing you have ever heard leave his pretty lips.

“Use me”

And with that, your mouth is on his in a rough kiss, biting at his lower lip to gain entrance into his mouth, he lets you dominate him immediately – lets you explore him. Your tongue massages his in a way he can’t get enough of. His breathing becomes erratic and his hips lift off the sofa to meet your own. You decide that he needs air and break your kiss, moving his head slightly to the side with your hand, you begin to trail wet kisses down his jaw and neck. That is until you reach the collar of his shirt. How on earth can you mark him up whilst he’s still wearing this?

Noting your own impatience, grinning at the irony of this situation, you bring him back and connect his lips with yours once more. This time your kiss is gentler, slower, more intimate. You begin to make quick work of his tie, loosening it entirely and slipping the silk off him, keeping it to the side in case this turns out to be one of those occasions. You unbutton his shirt, untucking it from his trousers, slipping both it and his blazer off of his lean shoulders – exposing him to the elements. His heavy breathing is much more noticeable now, his ribs flaring and dropping with every move you make. You bring your hands down to his belt once again and begin to unbuckle the leather.

Five gasping merely inches from your face. You know it won’t take him long tonight, he’s already so far gone. Irresistible. Once his belt is undone, you place it on top of his tie, focusing on the button and zip that stand in the way of you and the source of his aching need. The agonisingly slow speed that you release him from his trouser-encased prison. His boxers are next.

“All off- so hot mama, please” Five whines.

“I’m getting there, Darling…be patient” you coo, hooking your fingers under his boxer waistband, lifting yourself onto your knees so that Five could lift his hips and you could rid him of the offending articles.

With Five now naked and quivering beneath you, you turn your attention to his aching cock stood proudly against his belly, touching just below his belly button. You take him into your hand, noticing the string of precum connecting the tip of his cock to his abdomen when you move him. Gently, you begin to stroke him base to tip, rolling your palm over his glans every time you reach the top of his length. Five is sent reeling. He feels small under your touch, observed. He’s underneath you, naked and panting, and you’re above him fully clothed, looking down at him whilst stroking his cock.

“C-close!!” he yelps, the scene being too much for him to articulate more than that.

You stop your movements instantly, tracing your nails from the deep red tip of his cock down to the base, pressing in a little to bring his mind back to you. The minor pain has him slack-jawed and his head lolling against the back of the sofa. You finally settle both of your hands either side of his happy trail, looking at him intently. He finally meets your gaze, his eyes watery, your heart shatters over him. He needs you and you’re teasing him, finding your own cruel satisfaction in his tortured mewls. The entire situation is rather perverted, and you need to bring yourself back in a little, remember why you’re here, what your job is: to save Five.

You run your hands up his chest, over his neck, and bring his face to yours, kissing him again. You hold his focus there whilst you begin to rid yourself of your own clothes, everything going smoothly until you reach your office skirt and tights. You instruct Five to hold onto the back of your thighs and move with you as you remove your clothes, and he does just that. He’s so obedient for you, so good, so unlike his outer persona, so himself. He’s grateful when he sees your body, as naked as his, breath hitching when he sees your breasts – mouth watering at the sight alone. His hands are still on the back of your thighs, you enlist his help when removing your tights and panties, which he does ever so perfectly, eyes never leaving yours.

“Lean back, Five” you instruct, Five flying to meet your demand.

You climb back on top of him, settling your hips just above his, not sitting down just yet though. The ait between the two of you is thick, Five is looking at you like you’re godly. His hands settle on your hips praying you don’t disappear from his grasp. All you want to do is savour him, but he’s in desperate need and you have to attend to him. Whilst thanking the gods that it was so late in the office that no one would disturb you, you sit further down on five, trapping his cock between his own abdomen and your slick folds.

“Mama-!! Aahhmmmm, please, need you, inside, please-”

Five let what little control he had left over himself go. Giving himself to you entirely as you grind yourself along his rigid length. His nails dig into your hips as you lift yourself onto your knees once more, lining Five up with your entrance.

“Ready, Sweetheart?” you ask, practically screaming out a yes in response.

You lower yourself onto him, feeling him stretch your walls and fill you up. Throwing your head back in pleasure, you feel as though you’re on cloud nine. Five fits your insides so well, bottoming out inside you, leaving no room between the two of you. You take all of his length, further proving to him without words that you’ll take him all in – look after him. you’re only pulled from your thoughts when Five’s hands paw at your breasts. His palms meeting your nipples, feeling them harden.

You reward Five by lifting your hips, lifting him from your slick heat until his tip threatens to leave you…and then dropping back down. Five is in absolute pieces, mewling, moaning, twitching beneath you. He begins thanking you again and again, knowing you’re taking care of him in the way only you can. You know he’s being so good for you, trying his best not to cum, all you want to do is praise him. You let your body do the speaking, you pull him into your cunt time and time again, slamming your hips down on him, feeling him fill you over and over. You begin to realise your own pleasure building, Five filling you, writhing beneath you, making such pretty sounds has you wanting to do nothing short of ruin him, using him to chase your own high, knowing that’s what he wants. He wants your pleasure. You tilt your hips and angle his cock straight against your g-spot, a moan ripping from you at the sensation.

“Good boy, so good for me, so well behaved. Doing so well for me. Making me feel so good.” You match your short sentences to your movements, nailing your praise into him.

You can see Five struggling now, your praise has got to him and you can see he’s about to snap. He needs to cum, he can’t hold it now. He wants you to cum too, to cover him in you, drown him, make a mess of him…he just can’t quite articulate that to you. Little did he know, you already knew, and you were right there with him. His eyes are still on yours, he’s just abut ready to bust, tears escaping his eyes when you reach for his hands, placing one so that he can rub at your clit, and holding the other in your own.

“With me” you instruct.

“With you” he responds.

You intentionally clench around him, and he practically dies, letting a guttural moan fall from his lips that you capture and lock with your own as you both reach your highs. You can feel Five’s warmth spread inside you and you ride him through it. Him spilling himself inside you is just what you need to fall off the edge yourself, mixing his creamy cum with your own.

You both still, you let five hide himself in your chest whilst you both sit there, the mixture of cum leaking out of you and down onto Five. You both heave and pant, you bring your hands up to play with his hair, tangling your fingers in the sweaty brown fluff. You stay like that for an indeterminable amount of time. You only move as you begin to feel your skin go cold. You gently tug on Five’s hair to warn him that you’ll be moving. He hums and never lets his hand leave yours as you steady yourself on his shoulder, removing him from your heat, a similar string connecting the two of you as was on his abdomen at the start of this endeavour.

“Feel better?” you ask settling in beside him so that he can lay himself on your lap.

“Much better…you were right…now was best” he speaks, gaining control over his breathing again.

With Five’s head on your thighs, your hand in his hair, breathing and heartbeats matched, you pull Five’s blazer over his small frame and pull his shirt over your arms and shoulders, doing up a singular button. You know that no one will check on you until the morning, you’re well aware that people truly have better things to do than keep tabs on what you were up to. The entire workforce is overworked, needing their own sleep. What a blessing, alone, intimate, comforting time with Five. Meaningful time. Tomorrow could bring along that urgent case file; this was exactly what you both needed, right now.

All Rights Reserved ©thesilvertheorist 2025

DO NOT REPOST - reblogs welcome <3

[1117feverlessdreams]

W.C.P.P. 🎀 ⛓️‍💥- Episode 2

🐈‍⬛~🎀 SUMMARY: The atmosphere between you and Wooyoung changes your dynamic for the worse since that heated Friday night- until things gets exceptionally better.

🐈‍⬛~🎀 TAGS/WARNINGS: Cursing/Name-Calling, MAJOR Dom-Sub Play, Use of Alcohol, Role Play, Dirty Talk, Slapping, Handjob, Brutal Use of a Whip, Rope Bonadge, Office Intimacy, Oral Sex, Shower Intimacy.

🐈‍⬛~🎀 WORD COUNT: 10.9K

🐈‍⬛~🎀 A/N: Just...super duper freaky. Proceed at your own risk of becoming a hornball.

🐈‍⬛🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

A Mistress is a dominant woman who exercises authority and control over her submissive partner. She may engage in various activities such as bondage, discipline, dominance, submission, sadism, and masochism (BDSM) with her sub. The power exchange can be physical, mental, emotional, or a play in all.

Submission is not always about being doormats or losers. Instead, it's about empowerment. By ceding control to their Mistress, subs can let go of everyday stresses and worries, trusting her to guide them and make decisions for them. It's a deeply intimate and liberating experience.

Dominance is about taking charge, setting boundaries, and pushing submissives out of their comfort zones in safe, consensual ways to help them explore their deepest desires and fears. A good Mistress is caring and attentive and always puts her subs' well-being first, even as she challenges them.

Safe, Sane, and Consensual (SSC) is a key principle in the BDSM community. It means that all activities are agreed upon by all parties involved, with clear boundaries and safeguards to prevent harm. 

Anything outside of these parameters is considered unsafe and unacceptable.

…

Ever since then, Wooyoung has been extra attentive, making sure your morning beverages are piping hot and steaming just the way you like them, your files are in order from A to Z without a paper sticking out in sight, and your schedule is always organized and precise in preparation for the weeks ahead.

In your world, you tackle most of the paperwork meant for the office workers in cubicles- and for your own for distraction. 

There was too much on your mind this early morning, but you’ve set it aside for one of the greatest business endeavors that only comes every 10,000 lifetimes.

Your company, Better Business Company- hence the name- strives to make businesses better. The investments you distribute come from your own pockets and the companies you carry on your back. But today, you had a chance to strike it rich, because one of the most influential businessmen asked for your participation in the condition you formulated a plan.

Wooyoung, your supposed partner in this, knocks softly on your office door, carrying in a tray with your daily coffee and a Danish. ”I thought you might need an early pick-me-up,” he whispers bashfully, placing the tray carefully onto the edge of your desk. 

He steps back and watches you from a safe distance. You immediately take your coffee in hand without acknowledging his presence, sipping heavily on your beverage as if it were a tall glass of cold water. 

It was times like this where he just let things be as tried to gauge your mood. He walked like a deer in the wild these days, avoiding stepping on the smallest twig to prevent triggering the coyote's natural predatory instincts.   “Thank you.” You smile toward him briefly, and then you presume to delve into your paperwork-as if last Friday night never happened. As if the new ‘partnership’ you’ve dwelled in, never happened.

Wooyoung notices the brief smile and the attempt to focus back on work, but he can see the fatigue and stress etched on your face. He decides to try a different approach and sits down in the chair across from your desk- leaning back with a deep sigh and folding his arms comfortably. “For our meeting today…I think we should revise before we present.”

You don’t bother to spare him a glance. Instead, you keep stamping, signing, and flipping off papers. “I believe we’ve made those proper revisions days ago. I recall you saying things were pristine.”

His expression hardens slightly to prevent you from seeing the effect you had on him from your stubbornness, but his voice remains calm. “Mrs.Hart. If you wouldn’t mind…I can talk to you easier when your eyes are on me.” He waits until you finally glance up, your eyes meeting his. In contentment, a small grin grows on his face with a minor head tilt of excitement. “If we're going to pull off this deal today, we need to be on the same page.”

You purse your lips as you drop the pen. Your tired eyes flick around the man you’ve been thinking about since he left your apartment. “I thought that’s what we do. We’re the whole book remember? Front cover, and back.”

He unfolds his arms and leans forward as if he were trying to use his cavernous eyes to read the inside of your head. “Well, it doesn’t feel right at the moment. We're also supposed to work as a team, in and out of the boardroom, remember?” 

The Coyote was no longer to be frightened. It heard the snapping twigs a dozen times, and it was hoping that the deer would acknowledge them. It was the only creature other than it in the deep in the ghostly woods. 

“Look, I’ll just say it. Last Friday night was..” Wooyoung pauses. “Hectic… But, it was good, wasn’t it? We were good?” He asks cautiously, unseemingly bothered by the hairs that fall above his doe eyes.

You shake your head yes and sigh. You reach over your desk and grab the remote to shut your blinds, giving your unlabeled pair a sense of privacy. He watches as they fall slowly past the wall's pink shelves, hanging in the air the white marble floor.

Meanwhile, you were halfway out of your seat, his vision was cleared as you pulled the hair from his face. He turns to you, his mouth begins to agape, a ‘thank you’, and an ‘I can’t believe you’ has his tongue-tied.

You tuck in behind his ear, your eyes can only focus solely on the motion. Soon after you sit back down in your chair, flipping mindlessly back through the finished papers. “We’re gonna be good Wooyoung”, you whisper. “This is good, the meeting will be great.” You breathe out heavily and close your eyes for a moment of peace. “I’m not there yet, but I will be.”

Wooyoung rises from his seat and walks behind the desk, onto your side. He gently twirls your chair around and crouches down in front of you. Your eyes squeeze close, he was so intimate, so caring, and too kind. 

“You’re allowed to not be okay all the time, Mrs.Hart. You’re allowed to lean on me.” He looks up at you, his expression serious.

“I don’t want you to do that all the time Wooyoung. You’ll need me to pick up the slack one day.” You open your eyes to your revelation and the next words you are meant to say. “We’re a damn team, and we can’t play solo right now because we’re fearful of our emotions.”

Wooyoung’s expression softens, and he places a hand on your knee. “You’re right, we need to have a plan in place. But for now, let’s just focus on getting through this. You’re my priority right now, and then I’ll face the facts.”

Your eyes soften with trapped tears. You allow yourself to be vulnerable, and then you face the facts. 

Your hand trembles in hesitance, caressing his face for a few moments. He raises his hand slowly, and it covers yours in the perfect amount. His eyes carry the sun within them from the window, and before a tear nearly slips you fully pull away, turning back into your chair. 

“Okay”… you breathe, "Let's work on how we're gonna wow these motherfuckers."

Wooyoung giggles and nods, he stands up and gives your thigh a few taps, walking over back to his chair in victory. "Welcome back Madam CEO! Alright, we’ll go through the presentation one more time. And, I also have a few ideas that might give it that extra edge we need to impress them.”

His charisma makes you eagerly intrigued as you push in your chair. “I think I can help you with that.”

Wooyoung’s tongue says across his lower lip as he is tickled by your duality in attitude. “Sounds like a plan.” Some find it tiring, but it gives them the thrill to run miles. “And uh Mrs.Hart?”, he adds, his tone sincere.

"Yes, Wooyoung?"

"After this deal is done, we'll take some time off, okay? All of us." He gestures wildly between the two of you. "We'll set ground rules or whatever you need to feel comfortable. We're smart people, and we'll figure it out."  …

During the business meeting, you two were more compatible than what occurred in the last week. Ironically, all you needed was each other. All the plans you came up with were fabricated, and so now you decided to go with the flow. A smile and a familiar face prompted your next sentences, all worries dissipated from existence.

As the meeting progresses, Wooyoung finds himself stealing glances at you, a subtle smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It was the ease of your collaboration, the way your minds work in sync, that fills him with a profound sense of rightness.

A round of applause followed after a concluding message. Then after a spring of hands follow with upraised ideas and positive impressions.

With the meeting adjourned, Wooyoung childishly gallops over to you, stopping himself when he was only a couple of inches apart. "We did it," he says softly, leaning in close so that only you can hear. "And we didn't even need all that extra preparation after all. Sometimes, just trusting ourselves and each other is enough."

In a half-decent hug, with the palm of his hand on your back and your fingertips on his shoulders, you pull him near to lean in his ear and whisper, "Let's figure this thing out and get out of here. Just you and me."

He nods against your hair, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "Well, then there’s that thing remember? Let's grab our things and head out then. I know a little place nearby where we can unwind and talk through everything."

Wooyoung is the first to leave the meeting room, and you wait a minute or two to follow him along in the hallway for the ‘thing’.

"Attention, everyone!”, you suddenly shout. All gathering colleagues in cubicles and smart boards outside of the office murmur what could be pressingly hard considering how the nice meeting went. When you and Wooyoung’s partnership was lost, so was everyone else.

To show your reunion, you walk over to Wooyoung and stand alongside him. “I know we're thrilled about our new business endeavors, you've all done such an outstanding job these past couple of months! Wooyoung and I…have given it a lot of thought, and we thought maybe… we could throw another office party.”

Everyone agrees amongst themselves, causing a slight rise in volume before it comes to a quiet again. “But…I decided to tweak it a notch-“

You look at Wooyoung, who picked up on your cue. “To a week-long vacation!" 

The announcement goes over incredibly well, with the office erupting in cheers and applause. Your co-workers are thrilled with the news, and several of them come up to you both afterward to express their gratitude and excitement.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung watches as you walk into a crowd from a distance, his eyes shining with pride and approval. He mouths "Perfect," giving you an approving thumbs up and a warm smile. 

As the excitement dies down and people start to disperse, he makes his sways his way over to you with his hands in his pockets. "That was brilliant," he says, slipping an arm casually around your waist. "A week-long vacation? Are you sure?”

You step aside for a bit of distance so it doesn't arise suspicions amongst wandering eyes. "They've been working nonstop every weekday, and they deserve it. Besides, I need to take my time with you, what can I say?"

Wooyoung eyes soften at your words, recognizing the passing of obstacles between you two. "You're right…they've more than earned it. And I can't argue with the idea of having more time with you." He glances around, then leans in without ceasing to stop at a professional distance.

You completely step aside and begin to walk off fast with the cross over of your heel. “Not so fast”, you mutter. You then walk off and head to your office up the hall. You cross your hands behind your back, curling your four fingers, a secret gesture for him to follow.

Wooyoung, with an eagle's eye, grins mischievously, easily playing along.He lingers in his spot for a moment, feigning interest in a nearby plant before casually making his way to your office. He slips inside, closing the door softly behind him.

"What is it you couldn't say out there, Miss?" Upon entering, Wooyoung finds you caressing the awards of your company’s prizes on the back shelf behind your desk. 

With a click of your hidden hand, the windows begin to shut down. You turn and make your way to where he stands, tapping your long stiletto pink nails on every surface along the way. 

You gesture for him to take a seat in the lounging area with light pink tuxedo sofas, and a reflective glass table in its centerpiece. His eyes never fell from the sharpness of your nails, but he listens accordingly, pulling his tie around to relieve his tightening throat.

"I'll accept your offer.” You push off the wall to stand in front of him, slightly bending to place a palm gently above his beating heart, smirking at the hard palpations. “I want to be your mistress. To use you, and to experience pleasure… I've never felt before."

Wooyoung inhales sharply as your hand rests over his heart, feeling it race beneath your touch. His eyes darken with desire, a low groan escaping his lips. "Madam, uh Mrs. Hart.." He reaches up, gently grasping your wrist. "Are you sure about this?"

You take your free hand and angle his head toward your cunning face by his sharp jaw, tucking in his long stands with your other hand, pressing forward so your lips are by his ear. "Do you have to ask me twice?"

“No”, Wooyoung breathes, turning his head slightly to nuzzle into your palm. "But I need to hear you say it again." His voice is ragged, filled with longing. "Say it again you want to be mine, that you want me to be yours… like that."

"I'm yours…to obey, and you remain mine… to control." Wooyoung's heart skips a beat at the declaration, his entire body trembling with need. You drag your hot pink sharp nails that he adores on his face. His eyes cross adorably as he tracks them along his naturally sharpened jaw. You watch as his blood circulates beneath the surface, and you pepper small, feverish kisses along the area.

He lets out a shuddering sigh, and his eyes flutter closed as he savors the feeling of your nails scratching along his jaw, doubled when you start placing those heated kisses on his burning skin. "Mine… to control. God, Madam…". His hands tighten around your wrist on his chest, and the arm you're using to angle his head.

"Do you like the sound of that, darling?" You look deep into his doe eyes, indenting your nails in his jaw with anticipation.

"I do. So much that it's… intoxicating," Wooyoung whispers, his pupils dilating as he gazes into your eyes. "The thought of you controlling me, it's… please, Madam, touch me… like you did that Friday night. Please…" He trails off, leaning into your touch, his body yearning for more.

A devilish smirk overrides your sultry expression. "Please, please, please…" you mock pathetically, your drag fingers down his veiny neck. "I can't believe you're so desperate for me."

Wooyoung's face flushes with embarrassment, but the desire in his eyes only intensifies. "I can't help it," he admits softly. "You drive me crazy. The way you touch me, the way you talk to me… it's addictive."

You inch toward his lips but pull away teasingly seconds later. "Follow me…" you grab a hold of his tie, pulling him forward. Wooyoung scrambles to the floor and crawls on all fours as he tries to match your pace, the click of your heels and his pattering hands make the loudest noise in the empty space. 

Once you’ve made it back to the desk, you pull out your guest chair, twirling it with one hand, and pulling up his loosened tie with the other. "Sit.”

Wooyoung stumbles slightly as you pull him upward and onto the chair with his eyes locked onto yours. He sits down heavily, his breath hitching in his throat as he waits for your next move. "What do you want me to do now, mistress?"

"Just sit there and look pretty baby. I haven't even made up my mind yet." You tap his shoulder as you walk behind him, pulling out your chair from your desk and pushing it forth right in front of Wooyoung. Sitting in it backward, you spread your legs wide and you slide down in it with your pink vest pantsuit.

You bite the tip of your lengthy nails as you watch him squirm, and your teeth spread into a wicked smile. You tap your heels on the floor with an original rhythm. Wooyoung’s throat bobs with every tap, and his eyes are directed to the heel now and again, which stroke a shocking idea.

The sharpness of your stiletto heel reflects the sunshine when you hold it in the air, and when it falls- it lands on Wooyoung’s shin.

He swallows hard, watching as you bite at your nail, the crimson hue of your lips wrapping around it. He squirms in his seat, his breath coming in short pants as the heel of your shoe grinds against his shin. "Aughhh, Mistress, you’re digging in kind of deep. It hurts."

You’re relentless and just gaze upon him in contemplation-ignoring his pleas. You had used your restlessness night for research studies on this new dynamic you’ve both been secretly craving. Let's just say, your search history is not up to par with your business etiquette. "I hear you honeybun, I just decided what I'm going to do with you."

Wooyoung whimpers, trying to shift in his seat to alleviate some of the pain from your heel grinding against his shin. His breath hitches as you lean forward, the heat of your body wafting over him.

"What…what are you going to do, my Mistress?" Wooyoung asks, his voice trembling with a combination of fear and excitement. He shifts in his seat, his hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly. The suspense is killing him, but he knows better than to try and rush you.

“Eyes forward." You abruptly stop your heel grinding which brings him great relief. That was until you got up to walk around behind him again.

Wooyoung quickly complies, keeping his eyes fixed forward as instructed. He can hear your footsteps behind him, the clicking of your heels against the floor is making his heart do backflips. His breath catches in his throat as he feels your presence looming over him, and then your hands come to rest on his shoulders, gripping them firmly.

The next thing he knew was his tie being yanked from the collar of his neck, wrinkling his white button-up in the process. His eyes widen as he feels himself nearly choke. He hears the fabric rustle as you wrap it around your hands, and then has his vision suddenly taken from his senses when all he can see is pitch black.

You comb his neck-length hair to be tucked under the silk material, scratching his tender scalp in the process.

He lets out a low moan as you comb his hair back and tuck it under the makeshift blindfold. His body tenses as he feels your nails scraping gently against his scalp, the sensation both pleasing and unnerving. With his sight deprived, the heightening of his other senses makes his toes curl.

"Are you okay kitty?" You suddenly whispered with a small kitten lick of your own to his ear. Wooyoung mewls at the unexpected warmth of your tongue against his ear, the whisper of your voice sending shivers down his spine. He nods instinctively, his hands balling into fists as he tries to process the overwhelming sensations. "Y-yes.”

Your heels click once again like a ticking clock. Your claws grab a hold of Wooyoung's shoulders, spinning him around in fast circles.

When he feels himself uncontrollably turning into three-sixties, he lets out a frightened yelp- his arms flailing out to try and grab onto something for support. The room is like a maze around him, his disorientation amplified by the blindfold.

Then he hears your heels clicking faster as you rush to stop him. Wooyoung’s breath quickens, and you kiss him to calm his nerves.

“You still with me kitty cat?" Wooyoung gasps against your lips, his breath hitching as the dizziness finally subsides. He clings to you for support, his shaking fingers digging into the soft flesh of your arms. "Y-Yes, mistress. I'm still here," he pants, his voice barely a whisper.

You pull his fingers from your flesh, and reposition those same fingers to be placed on his crotch. "Can you give your mistress a show kitty? Can you show me how desperate you are for me?"

Wooyoung inhales sharply as he feels your hands guiding his own to his crotch. His face flushes with embarrassment and arousal under the blindfold. "Mistress, l…I don't know if I can," he stammers, his fingers trembling against the growing bulge in his pants.

"You don't know, if you can obey me? Is that what you're telling me, baby?"

Wooyoung bites his lip, hesitation clear in his voice. "No, mistress. I mean, l, I want to, but… it's embarrassing." His fingers twitch against his crotch, the warmth of his touch through the fabric both shaming and arousing. "Please, mistress. I… I'm not used to touching myself like this. It's… it's shameful." His voice grows quieter, laced with a mix of humiliation and desire.

"Awe you poor kitty. Shameful, you say?" You descend to your knees, rubbing your claws onto the blinded male's firm thighs. “Answer me this: where was your shame when you asked me to be your mistress? To kiss the ground before me? You proposed your body for me to control like the slut you are…and now you want to mention shame?"

His breath hitches as your claws rake gently against his thighs, his legs parting wider in invitation. His face scrunches up under the blindfold, torn between humiliation and need. "Y-You're right, mistress. I… I have no right to feel shame." I'm yours, completely," he stammers, his voice cracking with emotion. "I surrendered everything to you, mistress. My body, my dignity, my shame." 

As he speaks, you begin to undress him, your hands moving slowly and deliberately under his. Once his belt is removed and his tie is unzipped, you pull the band off his boxers away to take in his full package and spit on the head thickly. You watch the bubbly mess cascade down to the base of his shaft, snapping the material back into place causing his cock to bounce against his abdomen. "Show me everything."

The sudden snap of the boxer returning bounces his rigid length and causes him to jerk in his restraints- his balls drawing up tight against his body. "The floor is yours, baby. Prove yourself to me."

Wooyoung takes a deep, shuddering breath, his fingers slowly wrapping around his hard pink flesh. He hesitates for a moment, his face flushed with embarrassment before he begins to slowly stroke himself.

"You're such a good boy kitty”. His head shudders around slowly, he hears your voice in praise all around him. “Surrending yourself to me with control of your submissive mind."

As he strokes himself, Wooyoung's mind falls completely under your control. He becomes a puppet, his thoughts consumed by his obedience to you, and his only desire to please you. His movements grow to become more desperate and frantic as he imagines himself as your perfect, submissive kitty.

You smile with delight, as your deep research played off effectively into reality. ‘How to tame your sub 101; place them in an environment of vulnerability, rules, and trust. Contain them to follow your rules with consensual precedence, and praise them with every obedient action.’

Wooyoung’s breathing grows heavier as he continues to pleasure himself under your watchful gaze. The room is filled with the sound of his desperate pants and the slick sounds of his hand moving on his wet flesh. "Please, mistress… praise me.”

Your research continues: "Praise will become a natural practice if it is positively connoted with reward. Your sub might even desperately ask for it to ensure they are following your command to your standards.'

"You’re doing so well my little kitten. You're so obedient to me my love." Wooyoung's body shudders with relief and pleasure at your praise, his strokes becoming more purposeful and rhythmic. He arches into his touch, craving more of your approval. "Thank you, mistress… I'm trying so hard to be good for you. I want to make you proud."

"You are baby,” you affirm. “I'm so proud of you." You bend over from your desk and raise his shirt to rub onto his abdomen, right above his ministrations. "Can you cum right here for me babe?"

Wooyoung's eyes roll back in his head as your warm hands rub against his stomach, the friction and heat making his orgasm imminent. He nods frantically, his hand moving faster on his cock as he fights to hold back his orgasm until you permit him to release.

You continue to smooth your hand over his belly, specifically on the surrounding areas that tense from his approaching orgasm. Focusing primarily on the bulges in his stomach, you push down heavily to further alleviate the sensations. "Do it, baby. You've been so good. Cum for me."

With a final, desperate cry, Wooyoung's body convulses as he spills over his hand and onto his belly, just as you commanded. His whole body goes lax, hanging limply in the restraints as he catches his breath, basking in the afterglow of his release and your praise.

To quiet his desperate cries, you kiss him passionately. It was like his brain had gone to mush, you figured the blindfold might've even affected his sense of location, given that you were still in the office. "Quiet lovebug. Those pretty cries are only meant for me to hear, okay?"

He whimpers against your mouth, his body shuddering with aftershocks as he nods frantically, silently promising to keep his noises to himself. He nuzzles into your touch, loving the way you silence him and claim his sounds as your own.

Slowly, you separated your touch from his sweaty skin and removed your mouth from his pouting one. You then reach back to grab his blindfold, allowing him to see the mess he made. "Good boy."

Wooyoung’s eyes flutter open, and he blinks in confusion for a moment before his gaze focuses on the mess on his belly and chest. He looks up at you with wide, adoring eyes, his face flushed with embarrassment and happiness. He beams with pride at being called a "good boy" by you.

A similar expression comes onto your face in effect of his own. You reach forward to comb back the wet strands of his hair into a slick back. 

His cock twitches once more from the grace of your nails. You notice immediately, and your eyes shimmer at his release. You scoop it up with your other hand from his abdomen, giving it a taste and fluttering your eyes with satisfaction. You then offer him some using the same finger, waiting for his acceptance. "Don't you wanna know how sweet you taste?"

Wooyoung's eyes widen as he watches you taste him, a shiver of arousal running through his spent body. He eagerly parts his lips, his tongue darting out to lick your offered finger clean.

In awe you inch closer as his mouth takes in your finger whole, mobilizing his hand back and forth as his deep-set eyes entrances you in a spell with his warm mouth, giving you the craziest ideas. You grab him by the strand in the back of his hands and pull him off. After you then walk over to the desk and throw him a pack of wipes. "Clean yourself up, Wooyoung. You made a mess."

His eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of curiosity and lust from your intense stare. He nods obediently, taking the wipes and cleaning himself off thoroughly while you watch.

Your senses come back to you as you hurriedly turn your back and crack open the door to your office in caution of any bystanders. It wasn't your intention to start this so soon. But with Wooyoung being the man he is, you were prompt under temptation.

As Wooyoung finishes cleaning up, he hears the door creak open and feels a cool breeze against his bare skin. He tilts his head, listening intently, and hearing the faint sound of voices outside. He bites his lip, hoping no one has heard his earlier noises. 

Wooyoung looks down at his disheveled appearance - shirt rumpled, hair mussed, a faint sheen of sweat on his skin. He quickly redresses himself, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as he tries to keep his composure.

You turn back to him as you hear his rustling. Wooyoung freezes mid-zip-up as you turn back, his cheeks flushing pink as he realizes how disheveled he must look. He offers you a shy, slightly nervous smile, unsure of what to say after such an intense and unexpected encounter in your office. His heart races, wondering if this changes anything between you.

The hallway wasn't exactly busy after her exciting announcement of a week-long vacation. But there was always someone who wanted to stay behind. "What should we do?"

Wooyoung swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Do? About…?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He's not sure if you're asking about how to proceed with the new relationship, or how to make sure no one finds out about what just happened in your office. Either way, he had not a fucking clue.

You walk over to him tirelessly and sigh, straightening up his appearance for yourself. "We'll get to that later, but first,  we need a way out of here without looking suspicious.”

Wooyoung nods, understanding your unspoken words. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart and appear nonchalant. "How about… we just walk out together? Like we were just having a meeting?" He suggests, his voice steadier now. 

"You look like you ran a mile baby”, you giggle. “What kind of meeting would that entail?"

He pouts slightly at your teasing remark. "A… passionate one?" he offers, trying to match your teasing tone. He grins mischievously. "We can say we were discussing… the details of the company retreat, and that we decided to pop off some champagne. The one behind your desk over there."

A lightbulb shined over your head from the idea, you glanced over and grabbed the bottle quickly from the fridge. "I don't have a cork for this thing. I got it as a gift a while back when some money-chasing assholes tried to sway me in a meeting. This is good stuff… otherwise it would've been in the trash."

Wooyoung chuckles softly, walking over to you. "Well, it seems like fate that you kept it then. We can use it as our cover story.”

He stands tall looking handsome as ever, like you were the one sitting in the chair. He takes the bottle from your hands and looks down at the floor, tilting his head in deep inspection. "That's it."

You look down on the floor, looking down and stumbling around like a frantic mess. "What is it? What's that?" 

He looks up at you, a small smile playing on his lips. He carefully places the champagne bottle on the floor, descending to his knees. Your eyes widen at the moment, and he makes dangerous eye contact with you as he caresses your golden stiletto heel. "Your heel, I can pop open the cork with it."

In shock and confused arousal, you look down upon him and instinctively quirk a brow. "Yeah…good thinking."

Wooyoung grins up at you, his hands gently caressing your ankle as he positions the heel of your shoe over the cork of the champagne bottle. With a swift, practiced motion, he pops the cork, sending it flying across the room. You duck in response, and when calm takes over again, you snap out of your trance and smile at him with a nervous laugh. “Holy shit! You did it!”

Wooyoung laughs softly, getting back up to his feet. He picks up the now open bottle of champagne, and takes a swig straight from it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "See? Now we've got our alibi."

Even the simplistic action of him taking a swig out of the bottle made him fondly attractive. "Yeah…but who opens champagne without shaking things up a little?" You then grab the bottle out of his grasp and do the action of shaking things up. You pour the bubbling liquid on his chest and yours the same. A bit sprinkles on the floor for the added effect of "the mess" you've made.

As the cold, fizzy liquid hits his skin he inhales sharply. His soaking shirt gave an appealing view of his erect nipples and muscles. He looks at you, eyes wide with surprise, but laughter erupts suddenly in his throat. "Well, now we've really got to sell this."

You nod, drinking the remaining bits, then jerk your head up to indicate for Wooyoung to tilt his backward. You provide him a nice pour as your hand supports his jaw. "We just stole on a major renovation of our business. We can do anything."

Wooyoung swallows the remnants deliciously. Some of it spills down the sides of his face, onto his neck, and down his chest, mingling with the earlier pours. He swallows convulsively, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Let's get the hell out of here."

The two of you giggle out of the room as if you were on your way to a honeymoon getaway. But honestly, that's what it felt like.

Wooyoung leads the way out of the office, champagne dripping from his clothes and pooling on the floor behind you. As you both reach the elevator, he presses the button and turns to you, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Suddenly, the doors open once again, and Jeong Yunho, your second-longest colleague after Mark, follows in. "Mrs. Hart and Mr. Jung! It looks like you two had some early celebrations amongst yourselves."

Wooyoung grin widens, and he drapes an arm casually around your shoulders. "You could say that. We just sealed the deal on the new renovation project. A job well done deserves a little…celebration, don't you think?"

Wooyoung elbow budges into your side. You begin to curse him but the language in his eyes begs you to follow along. "Yeah Mr.Jeong, how about you get a taste! You work so hard, and it wouldn't hurt for you to let loose. You hadn't shown up at the office party last term!"

Wooyoung nods approvingly, he looks at the subordinate with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, since you put it that way…", Mr.Jeong trails off. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small gray flask from his cross body. "I always keep a little something extra for special occasions."

The both of you laugh hard in surprise. "Did you prepare that beforehand?”, you yelp. "That's so out of character for you!"

Wooyoung winks at you conspiratorially. "A good businessman always comes prepared. You never know when you might need to grease the wheels of negotiation… or in this case, loosen up a hardworking subordinate." Mr.Jeong raises his flask in the air saluting a cheers toward Wooyoung before swallowing a bit of his own.

The elevator dings to the main lobby, and you all step off into the cooling fresh air. "Well, I hope to see you at the next party then, and bring that fun energy with you too okay?!"

Mr.Jeong takes another swig from the flask, coughs slightly, and nods enthusiastically. "Definitely, Mrs.Hart- and Mr. Jung, thanks for the, uh, motivation!" Wooyoung claps him on the back and waves goodbye as he scurries off.

“Anytime, just don’t start your vacation behind bars man. Enjoy!” The two of you snicker as you watch him hurriedly place the flask back into his bag. Once the coast is clear, you scurry towards your cars as quickly as you could be. 

"I guess that wasn't so bad”, you mutter with a shrug. Wooyoung holds his passenger door open for you, his eyes twinkling with mischief and a hint of something deeper. "Not bad at all”, he confirms. “I'd say that was a rather… stimulating start to our getaway."

You turn to him outside and purse your lips in disbelief, playfully smacking him in his wet chest. "That's not what I meant at all!”

Wooyoung catches your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it gently. He pulls you closer, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "Oh, I know. But it's what I meant… And besides, you're the one who poured champagne all over us."

You yank your wrist into your lap, and he closes the door swiftly before settling into his seat. You squeeze into his cheek when he gets adjusted with your thumb giving him a little prick. "Well, it got us through, no?"

Wooyoung slyly turns his head before you can catch on, he captures your thumb between his teeth, gently biting down before releasing it. "Mmm, it certainly did. But now, I think it's time for some…deep cleaning." 

…

Wooyoung guides you into the luxurious bathroom of his private villa by the beach, the soft glow of recessed lighting through the windows casts a warm, inviting ambiance in the evening. 

He turns on the shower, and steam begins to fill the room. In no time flat, he starts to unbutton your vest top, his fingers brushing against your skin gently. "Arms up."

You allow him to make the calls, and your boobs fall into their natural place. You'd been in pain from the bra wire in the car while saying, "Something’s poking me". Wooyoung wouldn't let you strip it off, with the other hand on the wheel he held over your boobs shouting, "Hey, I'm supposed to be undressing you!”

Wooyoung smiles widely, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he takes off his suit jacket and tosses it aside. “I think I need a little assistance with my tie." He looks up at you expectantly, his hands reaching for the knot.

There wasn't a problem at all. The only problem was that you ended that segment too quickly before the private champagne party. The specific moment where you were yanking the same tie clean off his neck and robbing him blind. "You want it the rough way baby?", you tease.

Woo's grin widens, and he nods eagerly. "You know what I want."

You quickly jerk his neck causing him to step a few feet forward. He grabs your hips for stability in precaution, but it fascinated him that you could do it quicker than any working man he knew.

"You asked for it kitty."

Wooyoung's eyes sparkle with excitement as he watches you effortlessly rip his tie off. He lets out a small gasp as he stumbles forward, his hands gripping your hips tightly to keep himself steady. "Me-ow", he says seductively.

The power to not be tantalized by his sassiness was something to adjust to. You hurriedly pop open the buttons to his shirt with triple speed, throwing it over his shoulders. His eyes followed behind it until he felt a tug being worked on his lower half. 

What you found strip by strip was more and more veiny. You undress him completely, working on taking off your lengthy pants along with your underwear. "Shower, now."

Wooyoung quickly leads you both into the spacious, glass-enclosed shower. The warm water cascades over your body as he pulls you close, his hands roaming over your curves appreciatively. "You're absolutely stunning," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Hadn't you taken a look in that mirror?" You seductively imply, also hinting at his wonderfully stunning body. He did not have the body of a businessman man with a poached belly and loose muscle. He was desirably for you, the exact opposite. You reach up to gently scratch his back with your nails, your ghost of breath of the shell of his ears.

Wooyoung mewls softly in response, his arms tightening around you possessively. "I wasn't talking about me," he says huskily as he turns into your neck, twisting his tongue in long circles down your body.

"Woo…” you try to warn, but the feeling is all too good for unnecessary punishment. "What are you doing baby?", you mutter softly under the calming waters- watching as his body descends along with his tongue.

Wooyoung ignores your warning, his mouth continuing its descent until he's kneeling at your feet. He presses open-mouthed kisses against your inner thighs, his hands spreading your legs further apart. "I'm just cleaning you like a good kitty my mistress," he says, his voice muffled against your skin.

Your hands immediately enthrall the slippery wet strands of Wooyoung’s hair. The density of the water gave you a firmer grip as an advantage. "You'll do just that and only that kitty. You're already crossing the line by making decisions.”

Wooyoung purrs mischievously against your flesh, his hands gripping into your bottom to keep you in place. His tongue slowly glides up your center, parting your folds gently. "As you wish, mistress. Just cleaning." His mouth immediately finds your inner center, and he begins to lavish attention on you with his tongue, just as he promised.

A moan shakes out from your bones as you hike your leg on his shoulder like a pedestal. This way you figured out he wanted to be a brat, you’ll have to remind him who's the decision-maker later on.

Wooyoung hums appreciatively as you hike your leg over his shoulder, giving him better access. He doubles his efforts, his tongue delving deeper as he savors your taste. One hand slides around to tease your entrance, a single finger circling the rim teasingly.

Your eyes furrow in pleasure. There was no kidding when Wooyoung said the words, "Use all of me for your pleasure in ways you've never experienced before.’ With no insertions, he already had your body and mind convulsing “Kitty.."

Wooyoung looks up at you, his eyes gleaming with pride and satisfaction as he watches you shake and tremble. Woo murmurs against your sensitive flesh, his finger finally pressing inside as he continues to lap at your clit. He curls his finger, rubbing against that magical spot inside as he sucks hard on your clit, his protruding nose pressing perfectly against your folds.

You catch a glimpse of his smile through your hooded lids that Wooyoung thought were completely closed. To his surprise, you jerk him forward with your hovered leg on his shoulder. "Eat up you little brat, you don't get to tease."

Wooyoung is pulled forward, his face buried between your legs as he's forced to devour you. He gags as your legs clamp around his head, his nose buried in your pussy. He sucks and laps at your folds desperately, trying to breathe through his mouth as he eats you out with reckless abandon.

Your grip on his head grows firmer as your pointy nails are nearly embedded in his scalp. You swivel his head around despite his struggles for a deeper feel. "Good fucking kitty”, you moan.

Wooyoung mewls pitifully against you as you force his head to swivel, his tongue lapping desperately wherever you direct him. His claws dig into your bottom, leaving small half-moon indentations in your flesh as he tries to hang on.

With little time, you grow wary of Wooyoung’s upkeep of lapping his tongue. You tried to make him slip up and test him as punishment, but you were failing your test as you jerked forward and grew weaker from the tension in your abdomen.

Wooyoung feels your body tensing, your grip on his hair tightening painfully. He redoubles his efforts, his tongue thrusting in and out of you as his finger continues to work its magic. He nips gently at your swollen folds, soothing the slight sting with a long, slow lick.

As if it were a hit-and-run, you jerk forward completely with a loud gasp from his unanticipated capabilities. That strong jaw wasn't just good for smart talk.

Wooyoung feels your body shudder and convulse around his invading tongue and finger. He moans in triumph against you, the vibrations only intensifying your pleasure. He continues to lap and suckle gently as you ride out your high, coaxing out every last drop of your release.

You breathe deeply and tilt your head back from the intense orgasm. As you tilt your head in its previous place, you make eye contact with the man below and yank him upward with the hand you never let leave his scalp.

Wooyoung staggers back, his face glistening with your essence and his long wet strands as he gasps for breath. "You taste even better than I imagined mistress."

You huff with a scowl and grip his jaw, releasing it seconds after to smack him for pretending not to have been so disorderly. "And now you'll get a taste of what I have for you for being a pest."

Wooyoung pouts dramatically, rubbing his reddened cheek. "But… I only wanted to make you feel good…" He trails off, his eyes darting in between yours as he effectively evaporates the madness. He swallows hard, his voice barely a whisper. "Please…"

"Stop using that mouth of yours, and listen to me." You coldly demand.

Wooyoung shifts his feet, his heart racing as he stands before you. He keeps his gaze lowered in guilt of his previous transgression. He stands at attention, waiting for his punishment to be inflicted. 

"Why should you show shame now from how far you've come?" You snap, bearing daggers in his face. "Eyes on me."

Wooyoung’s eyes slowly lift to meet yours, a flicker of defiance sparking in their depths before he remembers his place. "I.."

Another slap sounds through the space. As Wooyoung's head turns sideways, but you bring it forward again. “I knew what you did, I didn't dumb down from an orgasm, not like how will kitty."

Wooyoung’s head snaps back from the slap, his eyes widening in arousal and pain. He struggles to keep his gaze locked on yours, but it's clear he's fighting a losing battle. His eyes start to water as he tries to maintain eye contact, his face burning with shame.

"Clean yourself quickly, and go out to lie on the bed, 'll be out not long after, and DONT put any clothes on whatsoever, understood?"

Woo nods jerkily, his voice mute to any sound. He turns around, wiping his face with his wrinkled fingers washing his body as you watch behind him.

Not long after Wooyoung walks out with only a towel around his waist.  …

You take your shower and come out lotioned up with lingerie and bondage you retrieved from the adult shop hidden in your purse. It was a leather neon pink number paired with a waist belt, and (‘X’) marks the spot boob tape. What caught Wooyoung’s attention most was the matching color leather whip in your hold, along with a thick twist of rope.

“What's your safe word?" You ask quizzically as he lies as directed upon the bed, the leather tapping with rhythm on your bare hand while the rope dangles on your wrist.

Wooyoung swallows hard, his voice trembling slightly as he replies, "M-my safe word is… orchid, mistress." He looks at the leather, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and anticipation. "Is that for me?"

"Orchid?" you inquire, "and when did you come up with that?" You stop at the edge of the bed and place your whip purposely near him, knowing it would get him riled up.

Wooyoung’s face flushes, and he looks away, fidgeting with the towel around his waist. "I… I came up with it a few days ago, mistress. I was thinking about it a lot, and it reminded me of you and… parts of you."

"Awe…how thoughtful!" You falsely stated in surprise. You pull your hands down and smooth your pink claws over the fiery pink hot lingerie. "Can you guess my favorite color baby?"

"Pink…" Wooyoung answers confidently, his eyes glued to your lingerie. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he takes in your appearance, his body tensing as he tries to rein in his growing arousal.

"Good! And one of the colors of an orchid is…" You trail off waiting for his pending answer.

Wooyoung's eyes widen as realization dawns on him. "Pink…" he breathes out, his voice filled with awe and a hint of nervousness. "The color of an orchid is pink, mistress. Just like your favorite color…"

You smile charmingly at his attention to detail, climbing onto the bed near his lean body. You unfold the towel, opening the layers on his right and left sides. With a pleased expression, your eyes rein over him for the third time in a day. "SSC… do you know what that means?"

Wooyoung inhales sharply as your body presses against his, the cool fabric of your lingerie a stark contrast to his heated skin. He nods, his voice strained. "Yes, mistress… SSC means Safe, Sane, and Consensual. It's a key principle in… in this kind of play."

You nod in approval. "Would you say it feels safe, sane, and consensual if we proceed with this, Kitty cat?" You uphold the whip, presenting it along his skin to show your further intentions.

Wooyoung's eyes widen as he sees the rope, his breath catching in his throat. He looks up at you, his gaze flickering between your face and the whip as he makes the connection. After a moment, he nods slowly, his voice steady despite the tremor of excitement running through him. "I trust you, mistress."

With his approval, you proceeded to bond his hands in a killer knot as you pushed them over his head. With the whip in hand, you strike it in the air as a test, and it proves functional as it cracks above the crashing waves outdoors. "Baby, baby, baby. Look at where a potty mouth ended up placing you. Tell me, was it worth it?"

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of trepidation and anticipation as you stalk over him. "That wasn't rhetorical, darling. I need you to give me an answer."

Wooyoung swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He looks up at you, his voice shaking slightly as he responds. "Yes, mistress… it was worth it. Every curse, every argument, every moment of defiance was worth it just to end up here, tied on this bed, and at your mercy."

"Huh." You scoff, both aroused and annoyed by his pride in disobedience. "How. Fucking. Pathetic." You throw the whip over his abdomen, causing a crackle to echo through the space.

Wooyoung hisses in a sharp breath as the whip cracks against his skin, his abs contracting from the sudden impact. He bites his lower lip to muffle a moan, his hips bucking slightly as the pain morphs into pleasure.

You go back to tracing over his now reddened skin, never taking your eyes off your prey as if it was always your destiny. "Another question:  Have you ever thought about this very moment before the night we kissed, in a meeting, or the night you took me home drunk…in my office?"

Wooyoung’s breathing grows heavier as even the lightest traces on his skin burn so good. He nods jerkily, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before snapping back open to maintain eye contact with you. "Yes, mistress… I've thought about it. A lot." He hesitates before continuing. "…Especially in your office. The power dynamic, the way you commanded me, the way you looked in your suits… it used to fuel many of my… fantasies." He trails off, blushing deeply at the admission.

You bite your lips just thinking about those moments over the past few months, just wishing you could've known then to feel this thrill sooner. "So let me ask you this. How long have you transpired in this fantasy before you met me?"

Wooyoung traces down your body above him. His eyes flick down to your hips where your fingers toy absently with the end of the whip. He lets out a slow breath. "Years, mistress. I've had these tendencies for years. But the fantasies of you… were the first to come to life."

Wooyoung pauses, his eyes locked onto yours. "Since the first time I saw you across the boardroom table”, he grins at the memory in thought, “I left that meeting with a new… obsession."

It’s not something you mention with words, but to be his first to control him like this turned you on.  You lower yourself to straddle over his crotch, trailing the whip over his nipples to heighten his arousal. "I never knew until you walked into my office that I desired such a man who could simply just be obedient. But then you were funny, and you livened up the room so well that made the office breathable. I smiled for the first time without presentation.”

Wooyoung feels antsy with your heat over his reaction, the whip strings trace over his nipples, and your admiration for his character. His body arches into your gentle caress and he spills out a shivering moan. "Thank you, mistress…"

Just in the moment when his eyes closed momentarily in bliss, your face contorted into a wicked grin throwing the whip up high to land onto Wooyoung’s relaxed chest. "I want you, and now you're making me weak. Just like you…"

Wooyoung gasps sharply as the whip snaps against his chest, his body jerking slightly at the sudden impact. His eyes, which had grown soft with emotion, snap back into focus, dilating with renewed arousal and submission. "Mistress…" he breathes, voice husky. "I never meant to make you weak."

"And you never could darling. So the stunt you pulled off in the shower? This will be the result of your disobedience, each, and every time." Your smiles wavers in and out of seriousness. In honesty, you’re truly happy to experience this with him, and the trust of power he gave to you to use at your will.

Wooyoung shivers at your words, his body tensing in anticipation. "Yes, mistress," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I understand."

You whip him once more, staggering him by surprise. "Again."

He grunts at the sudden impact, his back arching off the bed. "I understand.” He grits his teeth, bracing himself for the next strike, his arms tightening around the bedposts as his whole body tenses in anticipation.

You whip him once more, heartless and unnerving. "Again!"

Woo's cry turns into a broken, guttural moan as the whip bites into his flesh once more. His body convulses, pulling taut against the restraints, his breathing erratic and shallow. Tears of pain and overwhelm prick at the corners of his eyes as he struggles to keep his voice steady. "I understand, mistress!"

At last, you’re satisfied, and the whip is thrown to the far side of the room. You lift yourself from the meat of his thighs, reaching under the mattress for the body oil you hid when you came in on arrival. "I don't recall you putting any lotion on when you got out of the shower. But you were just following orders, huh pretty boy?"

Wooyoung’s head lolls to the side, his chest heaving as he tries to regain his breath. "Y-yes, mistress… I-I was only following orders…"He trails off, his voice hitching as you settle onto his thighs and begin to drizzle cool oil onto his heated skin.

Your hand smooths over his new wound and other plain parts of his bare body in a deep tissue massage. "That's okay baby, you’re managing well kitty.”

Wooyoung moans softly as your hands begin to work into his muscles, the oil-slicked touch soothing the hurt and heightening his sensitivity. "Th-thank you, mistress…" His head rolls back, eyes fluttering closed as he revels in the sensation of your touch.

You cease your touch when he begins to relax, booping his nose with a smidge of oil. "You're getting comfortable…."

His eyes snap open at the sudden touch to his nose, a startled "Mistress!" escaping his lips. He tenses, suddenly hyper-aware again, his body coiled with tension and need. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"Tututututututu." You click your tongue in disapproval, placing an oil-lubed finger on his lips. "Uh uh." You encircle his lips with the oil and circle back to the starting place in the middle. "Words can't save you now."

He whines softly around it, trying to speak but unable to with his mouth occupied. He struggles against his restraints, his body thrashing lightly as he realizes he's in for something else. "Mistress, please…", he mutters.

"No thank you."  One of your hands grips the base of his bare cock, while the other tortuously rubs the cockhead. Wooyoung's back arches, his hips bucking against the restraints as your hands begin their tormenting dance.

Tears well up in his eyes as he becomes overwrought with sensation. His shiny lips smooth together from the outburst."M-Mistress… "Mmmph!" Your eyes close as you intake his moans- continuing your crazy work regardless of his cries.

The weakening man’s moans rise in pitch and volume as you continue your relentless stimulation. His cock throbs and twitches in your grip, the oil allowing your hands to glide slickly along his shaft. "Mmmnnngggg!"

Wooyoung’s pleas turn into a wordless, desperate whine as your touch becomes more insistent. Your hands stop they play when you ride out your clothed pussy on his pulsing red cock. His body tenses, his muscles standing out in sharp relief as he fights against the restraints. The male gives up, he realizes words can never get him far when he wants his way.

You sigh in contentment, feeling in your breasts as you ride him crazily with no fixed pace. "Muuuuch better baby… come for me"

His body tenses and quivers as the clogged oil in his pores mixes in his release, causing it to glisten beautifully on your body, his body, and the sheets under the soft lighting. Wooyoung back bows off the bed, his body convulsing as he lets out a muffled, wordless cry of release.

You slow your ride to adore the mess under you, licking the white ropes of cum that fell perfectly on your breast. You moan and tilt your head back as your orgasm approaches, chuckling proudly at your accomplishments.

…

Wooyoung's arms fall limply to his sides as the restraints are loosened, His body still trembling with residual pleasure. He winces slightly as the circulation returns to his wrists, and your soothing touch eases the discomfort.

To comfort him further, you pull him near to your breasts to cuddle him as a little spoon. You and Wooyoung both were spent in the characters that you play so well. “Are you feeling okay?", you worriedly question.

He cuddles into your embrace, his body melting against yours as he purrs softly. "Yes, Mistress… I'm okay. "But, that was-

You kissed his shoulder and looked down sympathetically in your limited understanding. "Quite intense…l know."

"Intense doesn't even begin to cover it," Wooyoung murmurs, his eyes drifting shut as he snuggles closer to you. "It was perfect. Just how I needed it." He sighs contentedly, feeling safe and cherished in his mistress's arms.

In adornment, you pepper him with kisses. You pull the towel from under him and pat off the excess oil. "You did so well baby. Thank you for pulling through."

"For you, Mistress… anything." He brings a hand to cup your cheeks, smiling at you with a mole that is marked beautifully on his lower lip. "I'm… I'm so tired now…" His voice trails off sleepily, his hand falling back to his side.

You giggle and throw the rope aside for the man to properly lie his sleepy head. "I'm going to clean us up, I'll be right back."

Wooyoung mumbles something unintelligible in response, already halfway asleep as you shift up from behind him.

After cleaning yourself as best you could, too lazy to strip from the intimate material. You come back out to thoroughly cleanse the man before you as you apply a lukewarm rag against his ab ridden core. You even went to the lengths to apply a cooling cream and bandage to his whippings. Although you did all the work, Wooyoung was the one who endured it all even after the play.

Wooyoung remains oblivious to the gentle care you’re providing, his half-asleep state rendering him only softly whimpering from cooling cream and bandages being applied to his battered torso. He simply lies there, his chest rising and falling steadily as he sleeps, his face peaceful despite the marks and bruises adorning his skin.

You set aside the products to be put up when morning comes. Only he mattered now to hold all of your attention.

…

The first rays of sunlight peek through the curtains, gently rousing Wooyoung from his deep slumber. He blinks slowly, a soft groan escaping his lips as he stretches, his muscles protesting slightly from last night's intense activities.

You stir beside him, your arms tightening instinctively around his waist. With a joyous grin, he turns in the embrace- his eyes still heavy with sleep but filled with warmth and adoration.

"Good morning, my orchid," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. He brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek.

You smile softly, your eyes fluttering open to gaze at your desire. You return his morning greeting, your voice contrarily soft in raspiness as you whisper, "Good morning, Wooyoung." Like a mother to her kin, you burrow closer to him, nuzzling your face against his chest as you listen to the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat.

The peaceful morning sunlight streams through the villa's floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the lavish interior. The beachfront property boasts a stunning view of the crystal-clear waters and soft, golden sands. A gentle breeze carries the sweet scent of tropical flowers, filling the air with a sense of tranquility.

Wooyoung and you take their time waking up, wrapped in each other's embrace as you enjoy the quiet intimacy. He eventually breaks the silence, "I've been thinking… today could be a good day for us to explore the island together." 

You nod in agreement, your arms tightening around Wooyoung's waist. "That sounds perfect," you murmur, sleepiness still evident in your tone. "We can take our time with just the two of us, and make the most of our vacation."

Wooyoung leans in to capture your lips in a soft, gentle kiss, pouring all his affection into it. When you finally break apart, you both are left breathless. "Mhmm, let's start the day properly." He whispers.

"Oh don't pretend you didn't initiate it!" You cross your arms, exaggerating the motion for emphasis. 

Wooyoung chuckles softly at your teasing reply. "Guilty as charged," he admits, grinning. "But you know you love it when I'm bad, my orchid." He winks.

You throw a pillow at his head, missing intentionally. “You're so infuriatingly good at being bad, you know?"

Wooyoung's grin widens mischievously. "Well, it's all part of the package, darling. You wouldn't have me any other way, would you?"

You sit up on your elbows and pinch the puffiness in his morning cheeks. “And you're so…annoyingly irresistible."

Wooyoung lets out a playful oof as you pinch his cheeks, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughs. "Irresistible, huh? I'll take that as a compliment," He reaches up to gently brush your fingers away, his thumb tracing small circles on your hand.

"You completely ignored the annoying part." You laugh softly, unconsciously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, your body language unguarded and at ease.

Wooyoung feigns innocence, his expression mockingly shocked. "Me? Annoying? Never! Besides, I thought you liked me just the way I am - annoying quirks and all."

"Well there’s the concepts of time and place," you sigh, leaning back against the pillows, your hands resting on your stomach as you gaze up at Wooyoung, a hint of exasperation in your expression. "Not in all those times and places can you be tolerated."

Wooyoung's eyes sparkle with mirth as he remembers last night's special occasion. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong, boss lady. You didn't just tolerate my annoying quirks last night, you embraced them wholeheartedly." Wootcha!, he exclaims, imitating the sounds of the cracking whip.

As Wooyoung continues to mockingly imitate his annoying habits, you roll your eyes heavenward, seeking divine intervention to tolerate his antics just a little longer. He notices your eye-roll and grins mischievously, "Aha! You can't deny it now!"

🐈‍⬛🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

A/N: I just realized, this is my first ever fan-fiction where an ATEEZ member fully role plays in a submissive role…How am I doing so far? I’m so curious 😭 🎀.

PLEASE DO NOT COPY MY ORIGINAL WORKS, reblogs are appreciated and accepted. Stealing and modifying my work or publishing out on other platforms is not.

©️1117feverlessdreams, 2025

THANK YOU FOR READING TO THE END.

As always,

Much love

xoxo