#Why the fuck doesn't this girl have a name

[takes1]

i would LOVE to know which haikyuu boys would be brat tamers… and perhaps their favorite kind of punishments? (overstim, spanking, denial, paddling, etc) :333

basically just an s/o who sasses them all the time, loves to tease and talk back, and loves punishment hehe :3

haikyuu brat taming headcanons (nsfw)

loved this idea! just didn't have the format for when it got requested, then it got buried. tbh kuroo was the hardest to place out of all the names!!

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

characters. bokuto, nishinoya, oikawa, suga, kuroo, shohei, osamu, tendou, kentarou, daichi, atsumu, mattsun, iwa, tsukki, suna, sakusa, kenma, kageyama, aone, asahi, ushijima, lev, koganegawa, hinata, akaashi, yamaguchi details. lots of kink discussion. (implied mutual understanding, consent, and communication) aged up characters.

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. my imagines. requests open.

spoils you in and out of the bedroom. this guy has too much love in his heart to ever catch a stern tone with you, and especially doesn't like to use his strength against you. that being said-- he will hold you down after your fourth orgasm, as you squirm and tremble, cursing at him that it's too much- you can't take it- and the like. he still kisses you through it, call you his pretty girl, but it doesn't change the fact that you do need to learn some manners. you love that you can never make him upset, and learn to love his endurance, the way he grins and baby-talks you through your tears, because he finds it so cute that you always think you can get away with being such a brat. (BOKUTO, OIKAWA, kuroo, suga, nishinoya)

bondage, blindfolding, restriction. something about robbing you of a sense after you act up has no other match. you're so confident until your hands are tied, useless, behind your back or above your head. he can leave you like that for as long as it takes for you to apologize, or admit that you're wrong. it's usually paired with some type of slow, and cruel play that keeps you just stimulated enough to enjoy it, before he steals it back. it's the most absolute reminder of control and dominance; he's the type to kiss you through a long, and difficult type of tie, because you're too pretty not to taste while he's rendering your arms at your sides, or restricting how much you can breathe. probably the most patient, and twisted, form of punishment. (SHOHEI, osamu, TENDOU, kentarou, AKAASHI)

spanking, striking. loves seeing a clear print of his oversized hand across your skin. he knows you love it, too. that's why you keep pulling petty bullshit to get bent over his knee again, and again, and again. tears might be pricking your eyes, you might yelp- but you can't help but look back, a bitten back smile once the sharp pain becomes a lasting sting. you'll bite him just to get a little lovetap across your face, because you love watching his surprise shift rapidly into this possessive, corrective arousal. it gives you a sense of connection beyond what kissing, or even sex, can give. because, really, who else is going to look at you like that, all preoccupied, full of lust, but secretly attentive, after they hurt you? (DAICHI, ATSUMU, mattsun, IWA)

denial is his game. he takes his time already, keeping you on your toes, frustrated and needy-- he's ultra gentle despite his ability and disposition, never wanting to let you get a true taste of what he can give you if it isn't earned. time with him is filled with baited breath, muffled, almost-there whines, and shaky fingers that stay clenched, only to yourself. don't think he doesn't notice it, just because it isn't explicit. that's his purpose. to read you, analyze you, like a slowburn, steamy novel. he can fuck you so good, but he won't. he wants you to be desperate. be a good girl first, then he'll let you cum. (TSUKKI, suna, sakusa, KENMA, kageyama)

not much of a 'tamer.' while usually opting for a softer, guiding vibe in the bedroom, if provoked enough, he will not just roll over. when he understands what you're trying to do -get a rise out of him- he wears a stern squeeze in his brow. he's all focused on your smile, calculating, like you've just spoken another language. he wouldn't strike you, and doesn't enjoy giving verbal harassment, because when would he ever need to learn those skills? he's gigantic and intimidating. all he needs to do is remind you that you probably shouldn't be barking up the wrong tree. a big, strong hand squeezes around your throat, he finds just the right position to show you that you can't move under him, and a whisper, asking you, "what did you just say?" that's all you need to be subdued. (AONE, ASAHI, ushijima)

he would hardly know what to do with you. the idea of domination/submission, brats/brat tamers probably gets him hard, but there's not enough blood to share between his brain cells and his dick to play around with you the way that you're trying to instigate. he would need to be taught how to fill that role long before you could get what you wanted out of him. (LEV, KOGANEGAWA, hinata, yamaguchi)

notes. if the name is in caps, then i felt like their category is 100% in my brain. if the name just lowercase, then i felt like they could easily be in another one too. rlly liked writing this!

taglist. @integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @megapteraurelia

links. my masterlist. requests open.

[midnite-c6]

ICKY RLS NAMGYU ARGUMENT HATEFUCK PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

< icky namgyu icky namgyu icky namgyu 3 roh jae wons new photos r making me ovulate (respectfully) byeeee 💔 I MISS NAMGYU sorry this fic is 4 the ppl who mstch my freak only 💔

icky!nam-gyu x reader || warnings: DARK content, 18+, hate sex, hair pulling, nam-gyu's an incel & a mysoginist here 💔 (toxic boyfie), dubcon, degradation

◍⁠✧⁠*⁠。for some reason, you stay, despite his CLEAR red flags, despite how he treats you, you stay. maybe because there are some sweet moments (if you squint), maybe because he gives the best dick, but it doesn't outweigh how filthy he is to you, and it doesn't change how he makes your face wet from tears more than your pussy :(, poor little thing.

so it really took all your courage to kindly ask him to clean a lil' bit, since your small shared apartment was disgusting, dishes uncleaned, clothes all over the place, used tissues beside his desk because he just loves to jerk off infront of his computer, even when your laying in your shared bed, he knows it makes you jealous everytime he plays a video of "a girl who's much prettier than you"

"please atleast learn to throw used cups and tissues inside the garbage bag, nam-gyu, can you even smell the place? clean up, right now." the concerned girlfriend you are reasonably argued, walking right behind his office chair, yet, he brushed you off with a laugh and a dramatic groan. he was not one to take you seriously. "really? why make me a sandwich first, dummy." he says, as a joke, of course. after so many jokes just like that one, it can't help but piss you off. like it was your last straw. "please! just clean up after yourself you... pig." he was silenced, turning his face with a look far from amused, "you're serious, cunt?" that name rolled so easily on his tongue, "i'm just telling you to be a grown up-" his hand cuts you off by tugging on the ends of your hair, making you get on his level since he was sitting down, he was furious you'd have to tell him this, "wowwww... you... tryna' teach me how to be an adult?" you can't help but be quieter in these moments.

he stands up, still having a tight hold on your hair. "dumb bitch, you've got no right to tell me shit." he drags you as he walks near your shared bed together, "...you fucking horny jerk- all you think about is sex-!" he throws you easily onto the mattress as he shoves your face into a pillow, cutting you off- again, straddling behind you. "dammit, shut up! you're annoying mouth needs to be quieter, god." your complaints were no muffled. "your thoughtless mind's got no right to tell me anything. got that?" he pushes your head harder onto the pillows, making sure you understand what he's saying. you shake your head in spite, wiggling your body, not wanting to be dominated by him, again.

he groans, "so damn stubborn," pulling your shorts down until its fully off, like it was second nature he does this everytime the two of you fight, already revealing your flushed pussy since he oh-so "politely" asks you to not wear any panties anymore since it's quote-on-quote lets it breathe & makes it healthier. you agree upon than request since he's ripped too many too count, he doesn't care, he doesn't contribute any money to anything you own anyway. "you better say you're sorry, or i'll force you to apologize dumbfuck." his hand releases your hair for you to respond, and snakes to your folds instead. "you're fucking sick... i'm only asking for y... you to be a ..decent human being..."

"that's not an apology." he flips you over, turning you to face him, his hands wrapping on the back of your knees, folding you in half, just to slam his already-hard dick inside, he barely gives you any prep which backfires on him aswell. your tight cunny makes him groan from the sting. "shit- you should be used to this by now, haven't i fucked this pussy enough?" you sob, how were you supposed to defend yourself now?

he starts to effortlessly roll his hips grinding his dick inside you, you can't help but make even more noises, stringing out phrases less meaningful than the last. "y-you sick fuck..hnmh..!" you weren't saying stop, which surprised him for the most part, you were just so overstimulated by the pain he was giving.

"i'm a sick fuck? i'm a sick fuck? maybe the true sick fuck is how easily you suck me in."

"or how your cunt tightens everytime i insult you."

this earned more sobs from you, and he can't help but be proud of himself. he just wants to insult you over and over again. "fucking hell. you're a dissapointment compared to the amateur girls i find on the internet." that always gets you the most, tears building up on the corners of your eyes, of course you can't compare to them.

"look. you're crying." he leans in to lick the tear running past your cheek. also effectively pulling out to slap his dick against your folds, your conflicted in whether to cry at his mean words or cry because he's teasing you. your reaction just makes him chuckle! thankfully he shoves himself back in, "just for you." you know he's only ramming his cock to hit your cervix over and over again so you'll forget about that stupid argument that you he started. "you clean my dick dry, can't you clean the place too?" oh how rewarding would it be to slap that sadistic grin off his face, but unfortunately, you showed him how much of a moaning mess you are... just for him.

and when he folds you further, your legs on either sides of your face, as he cums warm, thick ropes of his seed inside you, making your face contort into an image so lewd, with your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your tongue sticking it out, he sighs. "ah, atta' girl, that's the face i stayed for." he never compliments you so now you and him knows full well how that comment would secure your place as his "lover" cocksleeve for the rest of your life. (⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠)⁠♡

guys the chokehold of the mating press on me these past few days. ALSO size difference ughhhhhhhh. i havent checked squid game tag in ahwule i hope the world needs another namgyu hatefuck💓

[aaagustd]

dreams | myg (m)

title: dreams pairing: min yoongi x (f)reader genre/rating: arranged marriage, smut but no smut, pining; 18+ summary: Yoongi would have never guessed that you'd be the girl of his dreams. warnings: pining, whipped!yoongi, wet dreams, implied smut, yoongi touching himself(aka his big dick), ruined orgasm wc: 0.5k release date: february 19th, 2024; 9:13pm est author’s note: Some of you may recognize this lol. I really want to add to this, but we’ll see. divider credit: 1, 2

masterlist | inbox | read on wattpad | read on ao3 | join my taglist

"W-We're going to be late."

You can barely get your words out because every thrust leaves you gasping for air. Your hands grip the railing while you lean over it. The sound of one of your diamond earrings hitting the marble floor goes unheard due to the obscene noises traveling through the mansion.

"That's cool," he grunts. "I don't wanna go anyway."

When Yoongi saw you in that little black dress, he knew his plans were canceled. He's going to need the entire night to appreciate this look. He couldn't even muster up the patience to drag you to bed. How the hell was he supposed to behave for a three hour long event?

"Shit, I'm cumming...!"

This is music to his ears. 

Though he has more plans for you tonight; right now he's only trying to release all the pressure threatening to squirt out of him at any given second.

You've been teasing him all day, testing his patience. He can't hold on anymore. He feels like he might explode.

"Fuck, baby. Me too—"

03:43 am

Not again.

Restless nights have become the norm for Yoongi. Since you moved in, a good night for him is any time he can get a solid five hours.

Tonight is no different. As soon as he drifts off to sleep, he's haunted by the sweetest dreams he's ever had.

His instinct is to savor every moment he can be near you so intimately, but he reminds himself that fantasizing about you in that way is stepping into dangerous territories.

Just because you're his wife, doesn't mean you're his lover or that you'll ever be.

Yoongi doesn't understand how this happened. He was just as resentful of this marriage as you were, but at some point, it all changed. How did you manage to capture his heart when the two of you barely speak?

Shoving the covers away from his body does little to cool him down. The images from his feverish dream still plague his mind.

He bites his lip, pushing those out of his imagination. It's wrong to think like that.

His heart hurts a little whenever he sees your demeanor change as you walk through the front door. It's like you're leaving your real life behind as you're returning to hell.

That's why he tries so hard to make this easier.

Sleeping in a separate room, staying out late, only speaking when necessary—he knows how to stay out of the way. Although sometimes he can't help but wonder... Do you ever get lonely?

He sure as hell does.

Every day women throw themselves at him, expecting him to entertain their promiscuity. But he never does.

He could, and no one would say a word. However, even if he did desire someone else, he could never embarrass you.

Before that happens, he'll slide down his boxers and relieve himself alone, biting into his pillow so you don't hear him crying out your name through the walls.

If he's lucky, he'll pass out after, and be out of his misery.

Hopefully.

Yoongi rolls over and lies on his back, staring at the ceiling as his hand slowly strokes over his skin. The dream he just escaped from starts replaying in his mind, picking up where it ceased. He's already feeling a tingling sensation coursing through his body.

That's it. He's already worked up. Now, he's ready to—

Did he just hear someone knock?

want part 2?? leave a reblog/comment, visit my inbox, or vote

[coffeebooksrain18]

I honestly like Cersei more than HOTD Rhaenyra because Cersei is highly motivated and is more honest about her flaws than Rhaenyra is even if that means embracing them and getting worse. The comparisons between Rhaenyra and Cersei are rather apt and even then Cersei still wins out because she's funner to root for and hate.

I'm also surprised that so many people assume that Targaryens like Visenya, Daella and Aemma would automatically hate Alicent. If anything all of them would be understanding towards Alicent. Visenya would understand Alicent's desire to do what she thinks is best for her son by putting him on the throne. Aemma would sympathize with Alicent because she was the only other person that would understand how poorly Viserys treated her and would be angry that Viserys married another young girl just to set her aside for his kid, even if she'd automatically side with Rhaenyra. Even Daella would sympathize with Alicent if she had the capacity to fully understand the situation Jaehaerys put her in because she was treated like a pet by Rodrik Arryn, bullied by his children even though one of them was older than her and expressed how scary her pregnancy was in the one letter she wrote to Alysanne on her own. Alicent was put into a horrible situation, being used as an older man's backup plan and tossed aside when her kids weren't as valuable to him as Rhaenyra was. (I don't care if she was 18 in the books, she was still pushed into marrying a 29 year old man as a barley legal adult and it was implied that she was groomed by Jaehaerys before his death.) Just because someone is born into the Targaryen family doesn't automatically mean that their sense of sympathy is gone when they see an in-law being treated poorly by a spouse born into their family.

Exactly! Visenya wouldn't care about Rhaenyra. She wouldn't care that she wants to name her daughter after her because she would think it obvious to do so. She is a Conquer so why the fuck not? And she wouldn't hold back on calling the Strong boys bastards when she hears their last names. It's Visenya she isn't kind, she is a warrior queen who was probably the most politically savvy of her siblings next to Rhaenys. She would express admiration to Alicent because she took power in a place where her husband made it where she had none.

Aemma would've called out Rhaenyra the moment she looked at her sons and heard they were Velaryons. She is from the Vale, the second most religious kingdom in the Seven Kingdoms. She would instantly know and wouldn't hold back. It may seem kind but she would make it known what she thinks of those boys. And yes she would have sympathy for Alicent. And she would be pissed at Viserys. I mean she died to give him a son and now that he has three he ignores all of them? She would see it as a slander to her name and all she tried to give him before she ever felt honored he kept Rhaenyra his heir.

And Daella would be very similar to Aemma in the aspect of Rhaenyra and her bastard. I mean her parents were Alysanne and Jaehaeyrs. The same people who turned a blind eye to Saera for sleeping with a man before marriage, the same people who didn't care about their daughter Vissera so much that she died trying to have last night of freedom. And TB Rhaenyra stans think she will be kind to Rhaenyra? No she would stay quiet but she would judge her and eye her in the most obvious ways. And with Alicent she would feel awful she has no one with her with each birth because that is what Daella was gonna go through and did go through.

I've also seen some say Alysanne would defend Rhaenyra and I agree...until Rhaenyra had Jace. She would turn her back and help Alicent in any way she can.

Thank you for the ask Anon!

[ihopesocomic]

I thought more about Adamant's name and how her name would be Adventurous if she was Merry and Clever's cub. I love the name Adamant, it sounds so beautifully and thanks to that I learned a new word in english (yay, comics give us fun and teach us new things!). I do love it and I think it suits her. However, I can't help but think that this name can send a negative message. Kinda like self fulfilling prophecy. Cause the fact that someone like Jasper or Vicious gave her that name (don't recall who was it really) it surely points to the fact that Adamant is ready to fight, she's not going to back down so easily (which is a good thing). However, that can also mean stubborn, if she's not going to back down then she's gonna cause trouble and stand up to her parents and challenge them. Just like she did to Jasper. And poor thing was provoked by him and the reality (and his paws...) hit her straight in the face. Poor baby. Sometimes I go back to earlier chapters and see how small our girl were. There were (I mean still are) children and they went through horrible things.

Sorry if that doesn't make sense. I love Adamant's name, please don't get me wrong, I think it was a perfect choice (Adamant is a type of Diamond after all, why would you choose this name hihihi). It was just a random thought.

No, you're making perfect sense. Thank you for sending this, anon. And it was Vicious who used the adjective 'adamant' as in 'she's adamant for a fight' and the name just stuck from that moment on.

She was literally personified by her desire to fight even though quite a few lion cubs are 'adamant for a fight'. They're gutsy lil things that will happily take on Dad until they realise he's too strong and they call Mom to tell him the fuck off for 'playing rough'. lol

On the surface, it doesn't feel like much of a name that defines her uniqueness like Golden Grove names should do (in theory, anyway). The same goes for Quiet's name. It's why Quiet would canonically change it if she had lived.

And then you have names that don't leave much to the imagination like Troublesome and Aggravating. Who also opt to change their names for obvious reasons.

Adamant's name, however, is an interesting one. While her siblings/cousins opt to partially change or change their names, she opts to keep her name. She even says she likes it.

Why? It's a good question. And the answer is simple and two-fold: because we tried to establish Adamant as the type of character to own her name and it was important she made that decision herself. And also because there is that all-important other definition behind it - one that isn't just a weird asspull - the fact that it's the most legendary gemstone there is. True, this has yet to be addressed... but considering her impending relationship with Diamond, it's safe to say it will be.

And I think many squeals shall certainly be had when we get to this moment. Well, there will be when we get to Diamond x Adamant in general. c: - RJ

[lis-likes-fics]

Compliance

Pairing: bodyguard!Raymond Leon x rich!Reader Word Count: 7.4k words Prompt: Punishment/Spanking Warnings: NSFW, smut, mentions of roofies, allusions to sexual assault and murder, mild violence, hand around throat, spanking (hand and belt), some degradation, name calling, he says "little girl" once but she's an adult, fingering, swearing, creampie... A/N: Took me a while to get this one out but here it is. I just....this man is so scrumptious. I can't. Thank you and enjoy!

Being part of a wealthy family has its perks—like having a hot bodyguard to make sure you aren't in any danger. He's saved your ass more times than you could count, and you keep trying to repay him, but he doesn't let you.

It's not your fault that you keep getting into trouble! You love to party, you love to live large, and you love to be as beautiful as you can be. This means that there are a lot of people out there who want to do things to you—awful, horrible, traumatizing things to you that you're too rich to even think about.

You don't see it that way, which frustrates Raymond because it means you get into more reckless trouble. He tries to tell you to be safe, but you just roll your eyes and tell him to stop being such a buzz kill.

“Lighten up, Ray. If someone wants to have some years, I'll give them some. And if you don't want to fuck me so bad, why do you have to be such a cockblock?” You ended it with a wink and a sly little smirk, and he had to refrain from correcting you about his name.

He decides not to try and tell you again that people don't want to take some of your years, they want to take all of them; and that he's not being a cockblock by not letting someone give you drinks, but that he's trying to make sure you don't end up drugged and violated in every way possible. For you, these things hardly exist���and they don't happen to rich girls like you. Surely, you'd be safe.

And again with the sex. You've been trying to fuck him since he was assigned to you months ago. This isn't even his department, but you've managed to fuck—and thus manipulate—every bodyguard your father has assigned to you. You let them get into your pants, and then they become too pussy whipped to do their job right.

Raymond won't be the same. He's got a reputation to uphold.

But damn it, you make his job very hard sometimes. You wear whatever you want, whenever you want. You're not modest, and you know how beautiful you are. He's seen you naked far more times than he can count, and it's never on his own accord. He's learned that sometimes, it's just easier to close his eyes than it is to try to get you to put some clothes on when you're in your room with no one else around.

But sometimes he can't afford to do that, because you learned that it's the easiest way to trick him into not watching you so that you can slip out of a window and escape to some party or other and make him find you. If you didn't have so many goddamn years, he'd say you were more trouble than you were worth.

You're a vixen—manipulative, sly, and so maddeningly attractive, that he almost forgives you for being so difficult.

He's not always good at keeping these thoughts locked in his mind and away from his face, but he's good enough that you don't know just how much he struggles to keep you out of his head when he's able to lay down for some much needed rest after a long day with you. He's only a man after all.

Tonight isn't much of an exception to your frustrating difficulties. It's a rare occasion that he lets you attend a party not approved by your father.

“You never let me do anything fun! And I've been good lately, don't I deserve a reward,” you'd pouted.

And while you were still as annoying as usual, you had eased up a slight (keyword: slight) in the past week—which he is beginning to realize was likely for this exact reason. Even so, he's been able to get a few extra hours of sleep because of this, so he will relent this one time.

“Fine. But you don't leave my side,” he instructed. “Don't make me have to follow you into the restroom again.” That threat alone was enough to make you agree. The last time had just been weird.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You wrapped your arms around him and lifted onto your toes to kiss his cheek. He rolled his eyes. “You are the best bodyguard ever.”

He genuinely scoffed, watching you disappear into your closet to find something to wear. You peaked out no more than five seconds later, looking him up and down skeptically.

“But you're not wearing that, darling. You look like a cop, and this party isn't necessarily legal.”

“I'm not changing.”

“Then this night will be hell for you.”

He decided it was better to just listen, rather than to challenge you on that. If there's nothing else you love to do, it's to challenge him. So he didn't fight any longer—he knew you'd win one way or another.

~

He's beginning to regret letting you convince him to come.

There's people everywhere, and with people, there's liquor and drugs and a strange amount of public sex. He stays glued to your side and your flank. He doesn't let anyone touch you without permission, he doesn't let anyone talk to you without permission. You're beginning to feel like a prison escort, rather than a rich girl looking for some fun.

“Okay. Ray-baby?”

“Don't call me that.”

“You're gonna have to back off a little bit, or I'll lose my mind. Do you want me to lose my mind?” You lay a delicate hand adorned with fingerless gloves over your chest. Your nails glimmer and your glittery lashes flutter as the rhinestones carefully glued to your cheeks shine beneath the party lights. You have to shout to be heard over the music, but you still sound so effortlessly pretty.

“Maybe if you lost your mind, my job would be easier,” he grumbles.

You lay your hands on his chest, where his black shirt stretches across his chest beneath his leather jacket. It's not much of a change from his normal attire, but it's enough to not raise too much suspicion.

You taunt again in a sing-song voice. “Ray-baby.”

“Don't call me that.”

“There's still plenty of nighttime left for me to do something you'll hate. Take a step back and stop gatekeeping me before I tell everyone here that you're a crazy stalker who's trying to kill me.”

“No.”

You jut your bottom lip out, frowning deeply as this look of fear and sorrow crosses your face. He knows this look well, has learned not to oppose it. He's embarrassed to admit that he nearly startles when your lip begins to tremble.

“Fine,” he huffs. He finds himself relenting to you a lot more often than he means to. “Don't you dare scream.”

You beam at him, patting his chest lightly. “Thank you, Ray.”

You turn on your heel to get back to the party. He follows you, biting the inside of his cheek at the way your hips sway in your tiny, skin-tight dress. Your legs are completely exposed, and he knows the only reason you're not freezing is because there are too many bodies around preventing any kind of chill into the crowded house.

He almost doesn't realize he's not following you before he kicks into gear once more.

The next half hour runs smoothly. You spend more time dancing with some friends you run into, ordering drinks from the bar that he ensures are clean before they're even given to you.

Someone sidles up next to you after a while, a charming man with a charming smile whose eyes are a bit glossy. You'd managed to ditch Raymond.

(“Ray, darling, would you please get me some water? You want me to stay hydrated, don't you?” “Why can't you get it while I follow?” “I won't do anything! I’ll stay right here with Tracy and Delia. Promise.” “No.”)

After another threat to scream, he relented. You left the two as soon as he was out of sight. He's probably looking for you now.

He says some pick up line you're not paying attention to. When he leans in, you hook your hand around the back of his neck and bring him down for a kiss. You're pushed against a wall, his hands all over your body as you hold onto him in turn.

You giggle into his liquor tinted mouth when you feel his knee splitting between your thighs, up and up as he teases you with it. He's almost reached where you're waiting before he's suddenly being pulled away with a harsh tug.

You look to see Raymond, his face furious as he takes the man by his shoulder in a tight grasp. “Ray,” you whine. “C’mon. I just wanted one.”

He ignores you, turning toward the guy you were sucking face with and patting him down.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” he complains, worse when Raymond starts checking his jacket for contraband. “Get your hands off me!”

He grabs him by his cheeks, squeezing until his mouth is wide and he can see into it. He looks around for anything peculiar—you don't know what the fuck he'll find—before letting him go with a couple smacks to the cheek.

“Get the fuck out of here.” He gestures with his head before turning back to you, pouting against the wall with your arms crossed.

When he doesn't move, Raymond turns around again with a harder glare in his eyes. He repeats it with a little more force but no more volume. “Get the fuck out of here.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, fixing his jacket roughly and walking away. He shoots you one last smirk, waving slowly with a tiny wink.

You wave back, lip curled out and brows furrowed. You wiggle your fingers in farewell, like you're torn apart by this nameless man’s departure. Raymond smacks your hand down with no actual cruelty.

“You lied,” he states simply.

“I didn't lie. I said I would stay put,” you shrug. “I just never specified for how long.”

He gives you a hard stare—but that kind of thing hardly ever works for you, especially not when you've managed to (finally) have a full drink in you. Nowhere near tipsy but loose enough to be able to avoid any manipulation.

“We're leaving.”

“No, we're not.”

“If you can't behave, that's exactly what we're doing. Let's go,” he grabs your arm and begins to pull you away. You decide instead to drop all your weight and make him have to drag you—it won't be a good look for someone like him to be seen forcing someone like you out of a party like this so late at night. And even if he tries to explain, you'll just scream bloody murder.

So he stops and lets go of your wrist. You cross your arms again and pout. He can't help but think you look like a petulant child pretending to be a grown-up—despite nearing thirty.

He says your name, a warning. “We're going home, and that's final. You're not listening to me, which means I cannot trust you to be here around all these people whose intentions are not well-suited for you.” He takes a step closer to you. “So you and I are going back home, or I'll drag you there myself—kicking and screaming, if I must…”

You refuse to admit the effect his voice has on you. You should feel threatened or upset, but his threat sounds more like a promise than anything else. You'd be thrown over his shoulder, his hands on the back of your thighs to keep you steady.

But you decide against it. You stare him down thinking over your choices and deciding that maybe tonight, you'll listen.

Clenching your jaw and sighing heavily, you glance away. “Fine.” You drop your arms by your side. “Home.”

His gaze is still just as hard as it was before. “Thank you.”

You roll your eyes, shoving past him to walk back into the crowd of the party. He walks closely behind you, his gaze sharp as a hawk as he follows after.

You really did intend to listen. But there was something about tonight that made you want to test him.

Shaking him off your trail without being suspicious is hard. You're just lucky there are so many people around, especially when the song switches to something with such a heavy bass that you feel it in your chest and in your head and into your gut. Excitement floods the party like a wildfire until it's a horrible mix of elated dancers, a wild beat of up and down as the music rages on in a room of packed bodies.

He loses you in the crowd. He had a feeling you would try something like this, but even he can have difficulty keeping up with you in a place like this. He stands still and tries to spot you through the mess, but it's of no use. There are too many bobbing heads and shouting attendees, too much chaos to see through.

You wouldn't leave the party. If nothing else, you know better than that. He just hopes he can find you before someone else does.

You manage to find the bar, leaning on it as you wait for one of the servers to serve you. You just want one drink before Raymond finds you and drags you out by your hair.

You sit perched on the stool, growing more and more impatient as you drum your fingers against the countertop. “Excuse me?” you call, huffing when you're met with no response. What kind of service is this?

“Hey, baby.”

You turn around and recognize the same man from before, a smirk on his face as he walks up to lean against the bar next to you.

You smile at him, leaning forward on your palm and fluttering your lashes at him. “Hey, there,” you coo gently. Maybe you might get what you want after all.

“Seems we were interrupted before.”

“We were.” You reach out to graze the neckline of his shirt, and he steps forward gently, two glasses in his hands. “Are we gonna fix that, handsome?”

He hums, eyes slightly droopy as he takes in the sight of you. He hands you one of the glasses. “Your little bodyguard isn't gonna stop us again? I feel like I was just starting to get to know you.”

You giggle lightly, taking the glass happily and reaching into your purse. “I don't know where he is. But we better make it quick before he finds me again and takes me away.”

You jut your bottom lip out in another pout, still smiling as you grab your lipstick and a tiny vile. He steps forward, one hand on your waist as he dips his head into the crook of your shoulder and neck. “We better…”

You hum, opening the vile and dropping a couple drops into the drink he'd given you. Your smile falls into a pout as you watch the color change with a taunting swirl. You make a little whining noise, and he pulls back to see what the problem is.

His eyes fall down to the drink he'd given you, no longer the light amber it was when he presented it. His charm slips into something of a disappointed huff.

“Really?” You whine. “I never get anything I want.”

His face changes, and you can see a glimmer of anger flashing across his face. You tilt your head, no more than curiosity shining through as the threat he presents to you goes almost entirely over your head.

When your name is called, you turn to see Raymond standing expectantly only a few feet away. His face is set in a hard glare and his arms are crossed over his chest.

“Ray, he spiked my drink.” You pointed to the man in front of you, who blanches as he struggles to come up with a poor excuse when Raymond's hard glare directs solely on him, this time with way more fire and something far too threatening not to inspire fear.

“Wha– I didn't! Why would I do that? She liked me anyway,” he insists, shaking his head and backing away.

“I'm not a liar,” you roll your eyes. Raymond would beg to differ if the matter wasn't so serious. “He spiked my drink, Ray. Get him.” You say it like a petulant child more than a boss giving an order.

He's too concerned for your well-being to roll his eyes or refuse. Catching the man before he can run away, he grabs him tightly by the back of his neck and slams his head onto the counter top. You smile contently. The man passes out immediately, falling to the ground with a heavy thud as Raymond clenches his jaw.

He turns to you, no more relaxed than before. “Stand up.” You roll your eyes but do as he says. In the next moment, you're being thrown over his shoulder like a ragdoll as he carries you through the crowd.

“I'll walk!” you insist. He doesn't listen, doesn't pay you any mind as he continues to walk. The hand holding you wraps around your thighs, the dress so small but he keeps having to pull it down before you're revealed to the whole of the party still raging around you both. Some people look over as they see you being carried away, your elbows in his back as you hold yourself up with a profound pout. Upon seeing your lack of distress, they laugh and pay you no mind.

“You always ruin my fun.”

“Stop talking.”

~

Raymond doesn't talk to you on the car ride home. He doesn't talk to you as he parks, or opens your door, or leads you into the manor with a harsh look in his eyes. You're actually too nervous to try and speak to him. He's given you silent treatments before, but this one feels different.

You walk up the stairs with him behind you, walking into your bedroom as he still follows. You drop your purse haphazardly in a chair, sitting at the edge of the bed and patting your knees awkwardly as he stares at you.

The silence stretches. You swallow thickly, crossing your leg as you clear your throat as quietly as you can.

“I know you're angry.”

“Angry doesn't begin to describe it.”

“I was fine!”

“You didn't listen to me.” He takes a few steps toward you. His hard glare is the only thing giving off his anger. He doesn't raise his voice or add any extra force. He speaks so calmly. “My job is to protect you and make sure you don't do anything stupid, and what did you do? Something stupid.”

“You act like I can't handle myself.” You roll your eyes, not feeling particularly shameful, just awkward about being told off by this man who is not your father. “I was fine.” He says your name. “I'm not dumb, I tested my drink because I didn't see it being made like you told me to. And look,” you raise your wrist, green numbers counting down on your arm, “all my years are intact.”

Staring at you, he feels his last nerves fraying. You're so oblivious to all the threats out there, whether you claim not to be or not. You stare with a whiny pout, eyes low and disinterested with a level of sass that runs his last will to keep his hands to himself. Your legs are crossed with your arms. You're using them to push your breasts up like you're showing them off to him.

“The point is,” he insists, “I won't always be there in time to save you. One day–”

You groan loudly. “Ugh, you're so fucking annoying! You never let me do anything–!”

His hand wraps around your throat so suddenly. You startle, gasping as you stare up at him in shock. It happened so quickly. He's never done anything like this before. He's never so much as grabbed your wrist with as much force.

You swallow thickly, and he can feel it beneath his palm as you continue to stare. His face is inches from yours. He's boxing you in with one knee on the bed.

“Why do you have to be such a little brat?” His voice is low and rough. His piercing blue eyes are darker with his pupil blown wide. “You're a spoiled little rich girl, and your father should have disciplined you years ago.”

You should be offended, but his closeness and his hand around your throat, it's making it hard to focus on anything but the pulsing between your legs. You squeeze your thighs together. He feels the movement shift the covers on the bed and scoffs.

“Of course you'd enjoy this. It's all you ever think about, isn't it?” He shakes his head, his lip lifting in a scowl. “You fucked all the guards before me. You kept trying to fuck everyone you saw at the party. You've been trying to fuck me since I took the job. You're just a little slut.”

“No, I'm not,” you protest weakly. “Not a slut. ‘M not spoiled. I'm not a brat.”

His fingers tighten so slightly around your throat, and a thin gasp pulls from your throat. The smallest whine escapes, and he scoffs once more.

“You were saying.”

He tried so hard not to fall short, not to fuck up and fuck you. But he's reached his limit, and the only way you seem to listen is this.

“You know what? Fine,” he says. “If this is the only way to get you to listen to me, then we'll play your game.”

He doesn't let go of you as he stands once more, forcing you to rise with him. He sits at the edge of the bed and pulls you onto his lap. You're caught entirely off guard, steadying yourself as you speak quickly.

“What are you doing?”

“What your father should have done a long time ago.” He lifts the hem of your dress up until your ass is exposed to him, your thong wedged between it and reappearing to wrap around your waist. You shiver as he strokes your back and all the way down the length of it.

When his hand dips low and smooths along your ass cheeks, groping and kneading them roughly, you bite down on your lip and squeeze your thighs together.

The first smack comes as a surprise, a light gasp tearing from your throat.

He tuts, shakes his head with a hum. His face and voice are completely neutral, as though his mind were focused on an analytical objective, rather than a punishing palm to your ass.

His other hand wraps around your throat, lifting you up enough to make you look at him. “Be still,” he orders with a calmness that makes you shiver. “The more you move, the longer I'll go. If you behave, then I'll give you what you deserve.”

You swallow thickly, staring back at him silently. Usually, you always have something to say. But now…

“Answer me.”

You sigh shakily. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

He doesn't waste anymore time in punishing you. His hand smacks down on your ass once, twice, three times more. He spanks you over and over, each impact loud and rough enough to make you whine.

Your bottom burns, a stinging pain that mixes into the kind of pleasure that makes your thighs slick. You purse your lips in an attempt to keep your sounds in, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. He isn't gentle—you don't deserve it. He spanks you until you squirm, until your skin is hot and flushed with color.

“What did I say?” he pauses, glaring at you when you rub your thighs together, wiggling slightly in his lap.

“‘M sorry, sir,” you whine with an obedience he wasn't sure you had.

You hear his belt clinking as he undoes the buckle, untucking his shirt to pull it off. You glance over to get a peek of him, his chest strong and mouth-wateringly enticing. You want to taste him, to stick your tongue out and lick at his skin until you've had your fill.

“Be still,” he repeats. There isn't a shred of kindness in his voice. You try not to squirm again.

“Yes, sir.”

When he strikes you again, it's with his belt. You bite down on your knuckle to try and silence yourself to no avail. The sting is more intense, harder this time without complete malice. You whine and whimper, taking his punishment without another issue to ensure that malice doesn't come. You clench your jaw and squeeze your eyes shut. You press your thighs together and stifle your sounds as tears prick at your eyes.

By the time Raymond is finished with his punishment, your ass and thighs are burning with the sting of his spanks. You're sore and aching, trembling in his lap as you whine.

“Look at you,” he scoffs. “And you want to say you're not a slut.”

“I-I… I'm not.” Another harsh slap, so strong that you actually cry out. “I'm sorry.”

“Yes, you are.” With one last spank, he makes you sit up as he rises to his feet. Raymond puts you back on the bed, your chest pushing against the mattress as he positions your legs over the edge. He tosses his belt on the bed next to you.

You feel vulnerable—as you are—with your ass out, your panties gone and your tiny dress doing nothing to hide you. You've never felt vulnerable when you're bare in front of someone, but there's something about this that is different.

His hands are on you, undressing you unkindly until you're as naked as you've been trying to get for him for the past months. He takes in the sight of you, your pussy slick with arousal, your ass flushed from his hand and belt, your thighs trembling, your smooth skin exposed for him and only him.

His hands squeeze your sides, and you can't help but moan at the feeling of his hands on you. You've been aching for his touch since he was first introduced to you. He was, by far, the most tempting meal you've been presented with, and you're weak at the thought of finally tasting him.

He takes you by surprise when he shoves his middle finger into your cunt, thrusting it deep and curling to feel the way you squeeze. You moan, eager breaths puffing out of you as he explores your cunt curiously, though he watches you with a look that feels more analytical than anything else.

“So fucking wet,” he tuts. “I bet you're gonna take it all, huh? You're gonna let me ruin this little fucking cunt of yours?”

You clench around his finger at the idea, and he grunts as he shoves a second finger inside. You grip the sheets, trying to hold it together as the feeling of his pumping, curling fingers fill you, mixing with the lingering sting of your ass cheeks.

“Please, Ray. I need it,” you whimper, unable to hold out much longer as your need for him rises above any game you've been playing.

“What? What do you need, spoiled girl?” He thrusts his fingers deeper, gauging your reaction by the way your cunt flutters when he curls them against a spongy spot inside of you that makes you gasp lightly. “If you're going to ask for something, you've got to follow through. What do you need?”

Your breath shudders. “You. You, Ray. I need you to fuck me so bad,” you gasp. “Please, Ray. I'll be good. I'll be so good for you, just please put your cock in me.”

He hums to himself, clearly pleased though he doesn't show it. “I don't know. You haven't been very well-behaved. Especially tonight. I don't think you deserve any rewards when you've been so disobedient.” He curls his fingers so roughly that it almost hurts. “You don't listen, you've been sassing me, you whine like a spoiled cunt.”

You whine shakily with each cruel movement of his fingers. Your need only grows, regardless of his meanness—especially with his meanness. You're a wealthy man's daughter who's used to getting what she wants, who's used to being praised and pampered and treated like a little princess.

But Raymond doesn't care about any of that. His job is to protect you, yes, but nowhere in his job description does it say that he has to pamper you. And he won't. He doesn't see the need. In fact, he finds a deep-seated need to punish you and put you back in a place you've been out of for a long time now.

It melts you until you're malleable, ready to take any bend, any imprint he may have to offer.

“Tell me why you deserve it.” He smacks you again.

“I don't!”

He raises a brow, inclines his head. “Oh?”

“I don't,” you gasp. “I don't deserve it. I haven't been good. I-I've been a brat, and I haven't listened to you.” He eases his pace enough for you to breathe right, smiling to himself.

“Good.” He raises a hand to your back, rubbing along your spine and easing the tension that has built there. He pulls his fingers out of you, smooths his hand over your behind to ease the stinging skin. “I'm very proud of you. You've done very well.”

You breathe slowly, feeling your brain settling from its mind-numbing high. You're always feeling the loss somewhere deep in your bones, missing his warmth and his touch and his words.

“Ray?” you whisper, sitting up enough to look over your shoulder. His jacket and shirt are gone, his pants undone.

“What do you want, little girl?” He's not harsh when he says it, though it's not incredibly gentle either.

You swallow thickly, trying to be as polite as possible as you look up at him with soft eyes gleaming with tears (more from a desperate need and his intensity than anything else).

“Can you kiss me please?”

You see the slightest softening in his eyes, easily missed. He stares at you, deciding, as he tilts his head just barely. You watch and wait as patiently as you can manage.

“Turn over.”

You do as you're told, laying on your back and hissing slightly at the sting. He steps forward, leaning over you with one arm braced beside your head. Your breath is thin as you stare up at him—so close, you can feel his gentle breaths against your skin.

He scoops one arm beneath you, wrapping around your back and surprising you as he lifts you off the bed. You hold onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He sits on the edge of the bed with you in his lap without a word.

You keep watching him, mimicking his silence as you wait for his command. He gestures for you with the slightest tilt of his head, beckoning you forward as his piercing eyes finally ease their stare.

You lean in, trying not to be too eager as you cradle the back of his head and finally meet him in a kiss. He tastes faintly of spearmint gum, this cool, refreshing feeling that makes your skin buzz. You tilt your head for a deeper kiss, unable to stop yourself as your desperation for him rises above control.

You tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, bodies pressed so closely together that there's no space left between you. His arm wraps around your body and holds you tight, the other cradling your head as he kisses you back with as much hunger as you. All of the built up tension is rising to an apex ready to burst.

As his lips travel along your jaw to the underside of your chin, you feel yourself shudder. He licks and nips at your skin until you feel like you can't breathe. His hands move to grip your waist, unintentionally guiding you down onto his lap until he's grunting against your skin.

“Please, Ray,” you gasp. “Please, can you fuck me? I need you so bad.”

“Why should I, hm?” He sucks a bruise into your collarbone, and you're a goner. How he has the control to play with you still is beyond you.

“I'll be good. I promise, I'll behave.” You yelp when the erection hidden only by his underwear presses up into you and against your clit. The cold of his open clasp on his pants sears the skin of your thigh, and your head is fuzzy with all the sensations. “I'll be good for you, sir.”

He hums deep in his throat, considering this as the haze of lust clouds his mind. “Prove it then,” he husks against the skin of your throat, laying claim to you with lips and teeth and tongue. “Be good for me and ride me.”

You don't waste any time, pulling his cock from his pants and sparing only a moment to admire him—he's hard and girthy, and when you position him at the wet of your cunt, he's groaning as you slowly sink down on him.

When you're seated in his lap, his cock pressing into you and stretching you in the most delicious way, you let out a long, heavy moan, mixing with his as you relish in the sensation.

“Fuck,” you whimper. “Fuck, that's good.” You lean against him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You don't move, clenching around him as you get used to the feeling of him. “God, Ray, you're so fucking good.”

He squeezes your hips tight, clenching his jaw and trying to steady his breaths. You're just so warm, so wet. He's trying not to move you himself as he busies himself with littering your shoulder in more hickeys—ones you'll have to cover when this is all over.

“C'mon, baby,” he rasps.

You nod into his neck, slowly moving your hips forward and gasping at the sensation. From there, you're moving so eagerly, that you wonder why you were still to begin with.

The pleasure is electric. You feel it in your belly, your thighs, your toes. As you moan and whimper at each catch of him inside you, he grunts. His hands grab your hips and lift you just enough to slam you back down on his lap. You let out a half-cry, holding him tight as you start to mimic the movement.

It feels so good. You're stuck on the pleasure like a fly on honey, fucking yourself on his lap as you gasp and moan. He watches your breasts, one hand braced at your side as his thumb traces over the delicate skin.

“Good,” he says, his voice rough with pleasure. “You're doing so well for me, sweetheart. Keep going.”

Part of you wants to push him back against the bed to find more leverage to ride him with, but the other part of you wants to cry at the idea of not having your body pressed against his. You're breathless, mumbles of how good he feels falling from your lips as you cling to him.

You swivel your hips, widening your legs to get him as deep as you can in an eager effort to fill that ache deep in your gut. You mewl in his ear, the sound intoxicatingly close to a tiny sob.

“Feels better, doesn't it? Being so nice and full of me?” His hands still guide your hips, rocking you intently as you whine some more. When you give no response, his palm lands three consecutive blows to your sore cheeks, smirking when you shriek and tighten around him. “Answer me, bratty girl.”

You shudder. “Oh, yes.”

“‘Oh, yes’, what?” His tone is so mocking, you can feel it rattling your bones.

“Yes, sir.”

“What are you saying ‘yes’ for, silly girl?” His brow furrows, though his jaw is still tight in concentration.

“It feels better,” you whimper. He can feel your thighs tense, trembling around him.

“Oh, yeah? Now put it all together, baby.” His teeth graze your earlobe as his thumb comes to rub circles into your clit. You whine, grinding deeper. You start to speak, but the words are unfocused, unsteady. He shakes his head. “No, no. You have to speak clearly.”

You try again, but just as you're getting the words out, he suddenly thrusts into you, interrupting your sentence with a moan. He tuts. “I said clearly. If you can't follow one simple instruction, how are you going to learn?”

“I'm sorry,” you mumble as best as you can.

He doesn't let you slow as you continue to ride him. His hands move to your ass, squeezing roughly and him when you whine and squeeze your eyes shut at the dull ache. “Let's try again, shall we?”

You nod, your breath catching. “You feel so much better, sir.” Your arms wrap tightly over his shoulders. “Feel nice and…an’ full.”

“Good,” he smiles. “Much better.”

You get ahead of yourself, planting your hands on his chest and pushing him back without much force. You steady yourself, rocking back and forth on top of him as you continue to seek out your pleasure.

Raymond watches you intently, his mind filled with the sight of you as he thinks about all the time he's found himself imagining this—your blissed out face as you lose yourself to the feeling of him, your almost whiny moans every time the blunt head of his cock find that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll.

He rolls you onto your back, tucking his thighs beneath your own as he pulls you onto his lap. He holds you by your hips, sinking back inside of you with a long groan. You tighten around him, whimpering and moving your hips to meet him.

Raymond steadies himself, giving a few experimental thrusts before finding his rhythm. He feels amazing as he ruts into you, taking all of his pent up stress and frustration out on you. You take it all, dizzy and in need of breath.

“Fuck, Ray. Ray—Oh, God.” Your hand reaches down eagerly to find your clit, rubbing only a couple circles before he's smacking your hand away.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” he demands, out of breath. A few strands of hair fall over his forehead, in front of his eyes. It's hot as hell.

“N-no, ‘m sorry.”

He replaces your hand with his own. The calloused pad of his thumb strokes your clit with quick, tight circles. Sparks of pleasure are crackling in your veins. You feel like you'll burst.

Your eyes lock with his, brimming with intensity. You can see the glimmers of control around his irises slipping away. He leans over you, one hand fisting the sheets beside your head as the other continues its ministrations between your thighs.

He's breathing roughly, a slight grunting in his tone that brings his unraveling to attention. Your hands wrap desperately around him, nails sinking into his back for something to hold on to. His sounds are intoxicating, a deep rumbling of a growl.

“God, please don't stop. Feels too good, sir,” you whimper, your body grinding beneath him.

He doesn't say anything, but the thrusts of his cock become noticeably more unsteady. He spears into you with more roughness than quickness now, slamming into you like he's angry still. You let him, delighted to take it all now that you finally have him after trying for so many months.

“Fuck, baby. Moan for me, just like that,” he huffs. “Keep squeezing me like that.”

You do as he says because you're happy to do it. You would shout his name for your father to hear if he asked you to.

You lock your legs around him, feeling yourself beginning to unravel as his pace on your clit tightens. “Fuck, Ray, fuck—Ah!” You feel the knot tightening in your gut, twisting smaller and smaller. “Ray, I'm gonna–!”

You're cut off by a sudden gasp as you come undone, arching into him as you toss your head back on the mattress. You cry out, your whole body shuddering as shocked moans fill the air a few breaths at a time. “Oh! Fuck—Ray.” Your words are vaguely coherent as they tremble on, too colored by the fervor of your passion to allow for eloquence.

He shudders as you clench around his cock, your walls fluttering around him as he continues to fuck into you. As your nails scrape down his back, his jaw tightens. You feel his thrusts stutter, his breath hitch in his chest as his orgasm hits him. His breathy groans fill the room alongside your blissed ones. He’s saying something that you can’t quite hear, distracted by the warmth surrounding you, filling you as he spills inside of you.

A few more short thrusts fuck his cum deeper inside of you, and you shudder and whimper as he does. The pleasure swirls in your head and in your veins. He nudges you with the tip of his nose, turning your head enough to capture your lips. You’re both breathing the other in, losing yourselves in the taste and in the feel of the other. His hands stroke your sides, this soothing but possessive touch that makes you dizzy.

As he pulls away, you both catch your breaths in the relative silence. You wait for your high to die down into something coherent, keeping him as close to you as you can in order to feed off his warmth. When he pulls out of you, you whine at the empty feeling he leaves you with.

“So needy,” he murmurs, kissing your throat gently before standing to disappear into your bathroom. He cleans you up, and you let him because it feels good to be tended to.

When he’s finished, you stay spread out on your bed to steady your thoughts. .”We could have done that a lot sooner, you know,” you say.

He actually chuckles, and it brings a smile to your face. Whenever you manage to get a smile out of this man, your stomach flutters. A chuckle? You’ll probably die.

“Shut up and go to sleep.” He says from the edge of the bed, gathering all the clothes left behind to clean up after the two of you. You sit up, moving to the edge of the bed on your knees. You place a hand on his to pause his movements, turning his face to look at you.

He looks so unkempt now. It’s not something you’re used to. Raymond makes a point out of being put together, professional. Seeing him like this—cheeks pink from the exertion, hair falling over his face, lips plump and kiss-swollen…it’s doing things to you that you’re not sure you can recover from.

You lift a hand to his face, using your finger to encourage his hair from his forehead. You stroke that finger down his temple, his cheekbones, his jawline, until it’s placed beneath his chin. You bring him forward and place a gentle kiss to his lips, something too soft and too soothing.

You pull away with a smile, still so close to him as you stare into his eyes. He’s got these really pretty lashes. “I won’t go to sleep unless you join me.”

His hand lands on your waist, sliding down to your hip and bringing you forward. “You’ve gotten enough of what you want tonight, bratty girl.”

You giggle, grazing your fingertips along his jaw, cradling his face in your warm hands. “You would think you’d learn that lesson by now.” You won’t stop until you get what you want. He might as well give up.

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the tiny grin playing on his lips. “And if your father catches us?”

“My father won’t catch us.” Your tone is easy, like there’s no argument left to be had. “And if he does, he’s not firing you.” If he tries, you’ll bat your lashes and convince him otherwise. If that doesn’t work, you’ll remind him that Raymond’s lasted the longest, and he’s the only one who’s actually been able to keep you relatively in line. You’re not done with him just yet.

He thinks about this, breathes in a deep breath and concedes with a sigh. “Spoiled little thing,” he murmurs under his breath. He pats your side, and you nearly squeal as you kiss him quickly before finding your spot beneath your blankets. He joins you a moment longer, arms wrapped around you, scent enveloping you. You smile as you nuzzle against him.

Cillian Murphy taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time​ @goblinjnr @kmc1989 @shelbyisms @weepingwitchofthewest @cl-0-vr @thoticious @sinarainbows @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bernelflo @dragonslayersupremacy @alurafairy @pietroxreader @darkcastle167 @neonpurplestars89 @motopoppp @mrkdvidal1989 @thegen3sisark @niktwazny303 @feyresqueen @lovelylilbadone @electraphyng @carolina-angel @xsweetcatastrophe @strangeions Tag yourself here...

[3ris-imag0ddessfrr]

Guys since Disney's refused to give our girl a name, can we as a fandom just start calling her Vicki after her voice actor

[spacedace]

Found this old snippet and don't really remember of the context for it outside of being a joking exploration of how weird the Fenton/Phantom family tree would seem to outsiders (not even getting into how relationships might be classified differently between the human side & the ghost side)

Anyway gonna drop it here as a prompt lol

Mind the quick reference to dismemberment, there's no gore or detailed description and no one is actually hurt, it's more there for comedic effect, but still wanted to give the heads up on it 👍

---

Nomad motioned to the towering, vaguely vampire-looking buff dude with literal flaming hair what the fuck, “Dan, this is everyone. Everyone this is Dan. He’s my…” Nomad trailed off and blinked, a look of confused befuddlement on her face as she let the sentence hang for too long.

“Huh…” She said considering, looking up at vampire-dude, Dan apparently, with a confused furrow on her brow. “You know this is the first time I’ve ever had to try and explain our relationship to each other and I’m drawing a blank and what exactly to call you. Uncle? Dad? Brother? Like, I think you could technically be considered all three.”

What the fuck did that mean??? Kon snapped his attention over to meet Tim’s masked gaze, the look of wild confusion Kon was sure was on his own face mirrored there. Around the meeting room confused and worried looks were being shared by the rest of the League. Which like, yeah, what in the Habsburgs was happening here for all of those terms to be applicable?

“Well, you’re Danny’s Mirror, so if you consider him your dad then it stands to reason I’m also your father.” Dan said, hand coming up to his - literally flaming, how did that work? - goatee thoughtfully.

“Yeah but like, I call Danny dad just to piss Vlad off.” Nomad countered, toying with her severed arm with her still attached hand. Kon didn’t think he’d ever get over how casual she was about being literally disarmed and just…not caring. “And I definitely don’t see you as a dad. Uncle?”

The giant of a ghost shook his head with a frown, “Implies that Danny and I are brothers, which could work but gives our relationship kind of a weird vibe. I feel more like his father than anything.”

“Gramps, then?”

“No.”

Nomad laughed, “Fair, wouldn’t want to take the title of Grampa away from CW. Besides we’re both half Vlad, so I think brother works best here.” She frowned, looking thoughtful, “Maybe half brother?”

Dan considered, “Half-brother could work. Though it gives Vlad more credit than he deserves.”

“Oh come on, can you imagine the look on his face if we went in together on suing him for child support?” Nomad asked, fanged grin wicked. Dan’s face lit up at the idea, and Kon felt like they were rapidly heading towards the two ghosts running off to go and go torment whoever this Vlad guy was rather then them help deal with the current demonic problem at hand.

“Can you please explain what any of that means?” Kon asked, more a squeak than anything else. He was starting to get a headache.

[starry-bi-sky]

Oh man, I binged the first 20 episodes of The Princess's Jewels a few days ago after watching a few review videos on it because I had to see just how bad it actually was, and I've decided to talk more about it here.

For the entire spite-fueled four hours of reading, i kept stopping to take screenshots to send them to @the-navistar-carol and then talk about how stupid a lot of the plot points were. I jokingly called Ariana a jellyfish based on her hairstyle, and the nickname stuck after Gen said "yeah and she's like an actual jellyfish by how the trick you into getting closer because they're so pretty before paralyzing you with their stingers."

I'm putting this under a read more because, as normal, I write a lot.

We all know Jellyfish sucks, but what gets me the most is the wasted potential of the guys (among other things). They are all so! Interesting! And they befall the same fate as female harem members in that their backgrounds and personalities all get set to the wayside in favor of fawning over the MC. They all come from unique, diverse backgrounds that don't get touched up on at all. For example:

Why did Efrit wear a mask all the time when his older brother didn't? Why did he say that "he finally found the woman he was going to reveal his face to" to Abal after he met Jellyfish? Is it some kind of cultural thing for the soldiers and warriors of Xek to wear masks until they fall in love? That would explain why his brother has his face revealed, cuz he's not a warrior! Why is the second prince in charge of the country's army and not the king himself? Why did he STAY the general of the army after he fucked off to another kingdom to become the lover of a foreign state?

Why was Haun Baek taken in by the royal family? The flashback of the queen giving him a new name implies to me that he may have been a slave of some kind, which puts a lot of perspective on why so many people were against his rise to power and disliked him. He was mentioned to be a general and head of the security division of the king, but as far as chapter 21 goes, this has never been brought up again. He's the Harem Pretty Boy who does all the work in high society for Jellyfish.

Speaking of fighting -- when did Jellyfish get a thigh tattoo to summon her sword? What's the backstory behind that? It probably has something to do with the 'swordmaster' thing (which is ANOTHER thing) but when did she get it? Why was she even allowed to learn swordfighting if she came from a seemingly implied patriarchal society? More importantly -- why was everyone okay with this? Why is it only the off-screen "evil old advisors" that hate her doing this.

Are these evil old advisors in the room with us right now?

Why are Nell and his family werewolves? Where did their magic recorder ability come from? This was just seemingly a power that he had that came out of nowhere when they were looking into Benela and her family. From the videos I had assumed he was a poor family that rose into dukedom after the war, but apparently they've always been? Dukes? And the other advisors still see the family as a threat? On one hand I can see where they're coming from, but on the other I don't think the comic is portraying them as "threats" the way I think they are. Nell and his family are seemingly treated like they were commoners who suddenly rose into nobility, rather than pre-existing nobility that fell onto hard times.

I want to know more about Jade and the fact that he's from a holy house from an entirely different country -- i cannot believe Ariana got away with that btw. Like im not even touching the gross overreach of power that is her demanding a noble not of her kingdom to be castrated, but more so on the fact that she practically coerced and stole a descendant of a saint and faced?? No backlash from this? None whatsoever? The gods and the people just let her get away with it because oh, it's an honor for this snobby empirical princess to come in and steal one of their chosen saintly descendants all because his dad pissed her off?

Like I agree that the dad was a scumbag, but Ariana calling him out on it is like the pot calling the kettle black.

Also, I wish Benela and her family were a bigger threat than TJP claims they are. Like, this is apparently the emperor's favored concubine who stole the love of the emperor away from the empress and successfully murdered the crown prince without getting caught. She's apparently some master manipulator but Jellyfish faces no trouble thwarting her at every turn. So what is it? Is she a master manipulator or is she a dunce? Or is the emperor just an idiot who doesn't care about his sons because with the way he treats them, you'd think they were bastard children.

The banquet "queen heel syndrome" scene gets me especially so because that was a good fucking plan!

Benela's plan to reveal and shine a light on Jellyfish's harem and how it was negatively impacting her image and high society was a good plan! That was brilliant! Because it had basis of truth in it. I don't know if the queen heel syndrome thing was a false rumor, or something she deliberately fabricated -- the comic never actually goes out of it's way to disprove it. In fact, I'd argue the QHS thing is *backed* by it, because just a few chapters prior when we first meet Benela, there's a side comment made by a noble woman about how her daughter was chasing after some man she was infatuated with.

But what I do know is that Jellyfish has been disgraceful towards her fiancé and that she has been indulging in her harem. By all accounts, by the implied societal standards of Arbezela or Azkaban, Jellyfish is being a whore. I am not one for mindlessly slut-shaming, but sometimes slut-shaming IS okay if it has a narrative purpose. And it does here. And Jellyfish doesnt even disprove any of their arguments, in fact she does a 1st grade level deflection and instead goes right for insulting Bavilo's lack of marriage prospects, which wasn't what they were talking about at all.

I'd applaud the deflection if it wasn't Ariana doing it, and if it wasn't such a serious and valid accusation that Benela and her family were making.In any other manhwa, this would have worked. This would have damaged Ariana's reputation, and it should've had some actual consequences to it. Instead they completely skip over this plot because the author knows that Ariana has no defense, she can't talk or excuse her way out because regardless of the truth behind the Queen Heel Syndrome, the fact remains what she is doing is inherently shameful.

Like! I am so mad that their scheme didn't work, because it! Was! A! Good scheme! All the best lies have some part of the truth in it, and Ariana should not have been able to weasel herself out of that so easily. In fact, the fact that she did just makes the emperor look like an even bigger incompetent.

Wanna know how this ended? It ended with the emperor blowing up at Bavilo because Bavilo said that he "could make it to the top on his own without the help of talented subordinates" and the emperor perceived that as a slight against him because, apparently, Bavilo was claiming to be heir to the throne? When nowhere in that sentence did Bavilo even so much as say or imply such a thing?

and also--- WHY is it such a bad thing that he's claiming to be vying for the heir seat? It's empty! The Emperor hasn't announced a new successor yet, of course Bavilo would say he wanted to be the crown prince. Nothing that Bavilo said was insulting towards anyone, and was actually quite admirable.

What gets me too is that right after this chapter, the empress claims that the princes are "illegitimate children" because they're the sons of concubines, and that if they were chosen for the role of "carrier of the light" people would question their parentage-- ???

First of all, not at all how concubines work. Concubines are a legitimate role in a harem structure and quite literally their job is to produce more heirs for the throne as back-ups in case something happens to the Heir Apparent. Like that's literally their job. They are official members of the royal palace, to claim that their children aren't legitimate is to claim that they're merely mistresses, not concubines. This was both an insult to the concubines AND the emperor.

Like my god I do not have the time to go into all of the plot holes of this webtoon. I haven't even gone into the total lack of consequences Ariana experiences both politically and socially, and how all of the interesting conflict happens off screen, nor the blatant racism and misogyny present throughout the webtoon, NOR the absolute SHIT worldbuilding.

[11thfempachi]

this influx of """""trans girl inclusive (๑•ᴗ•๑)♡""""" """""rads"""" has to be a fucking troll raid because how are you a radfem and think men who decide to get a surgery, change name and wear a skirt being oppressed for doing girly stuff while being biologically male, should be defended and fought for by women who are oppressed for mostly their biological reality of having vaginas and uteruses. a trans woman can stop being trans. I can't stop being a woman. I'm not saying dysphoria doesn't hurt, but you know I would assume that me fearing rape and pregnancy and being forced to raise I child I hate from a father I hate would be worse than hating your body part. why am I even telling you this you're probably a troll

Majority of people who say they hate radfems are either refering to terfs and think those terms are interchangeable or just don't have any real knowledge on radical feminism

[galedekkarios]

"how could anyone ship bloodweave they make no sense at all" did you think about their stories, their motives, their ailments, their shared hobbies, the subtle progression of their relationship throughout the acts, and how very similar they can be despite being different. i know that you didn't but if you had then perhaps you would understand why some people might ship them, especially since a) you can successfully romance them in an origin run thus making it possible, b) astarion already tries flirting with gale unprompted in act 1, and c) you can romance astarion with a good-aligned pc and romance gale with an evil-aligned pc. so, like. what's not clicking

[blujayonthewing]

I wish I had any way of knowing whether people have gotten Weirder™ about my name in recent years or if this has been happening behind the scenes the entire time

I've been going by Jay since I was 11. At the time nobody objected to or questioned this, at least not to me; I found out many years later that Jay is supposedly a "boy's name," but nobody ever said 'you can't use that as a nickname, it's a boy's name' and it went completely uncontested by anyone when I switched. Lots of kids announced some manner of name change at the start of a new school year in middle school; it was all normal and fine. My mom and, you know, grandmas and other relatives kept calling me Jessica, which was also fine! I didn't make a big family announcement or correct any relatives on this, I just wanted to differentiate myself from the half dozen other Jessicas in school.

For twenty years!! This has gone on being perfectly normal! My Real Name™ is an increasingly obscure bit of trivia I get to spring on friends who didn't realize I had one, which is always funny (my brother in law didn't believe me and demanded to see my driver's license). My mom and grandmas have largely still called me Jess, and that's also fine! It's nice, even! There's a particular intimacy there of having a name only my mother uses-- but, crucially, I have never asked her not to, or said that I don't like it. And as FAR AS I KNOW, this has all been true and fine for TWENTY YEARS.

My own feelings about it have never changed, and feel, to me, very straightforward: if I tell you that my name is Jay, and you decide that no it isn't, that is a problem. That's the rule. That's literally it. I had a high school teacher who asked on the syllabus for us to write down if we went by something other than our full name, who was nonetheless UNIQUE among all of my teachers from 6th grade onward in always and only ever calling me Jess, even though I signed all my work Jay, all the other teachers called me Jay, he literally asked whether anyone wanted to be called something else and I answered Jay, and I had him for two semesters. I met a work friend of Justin's once who asked upon introduction whether Jay was short for something, and when I told him it was short for Jessica he took it upon himself to call me Jess instead. This isn't me having a problem with any particular iteration of my name, this is just asshole behavior! I told you what my name was and you said 'no it isn't'. The problem here does not seem complex to me?

But within the last [hand wiggle] handful of years I feel like it keeps getting weirder? Apparently my dad and grandma argued about it at my wedding rehearsal-- she, dramatically, insisting 'I don't care, her name is Jessica, I'm going to call her that ;n;' and my dad angrily defensive that no it isn't, I go by Jay, that should be respected. And I'm sitting here listening to my dad relay this in utter bewilderment like. Well dad I love the energy but I have never been bothered at all if grandma calls me Jessica. I have never even once asked her not to or complained to anyone that she does. But also this is the grandma who HAS called me Jay more often than not?? My mom's mom never picked it up, but I was astonished to hear my dad's mom was acting like this was some New Dramatic Change that she Hated and not a thing she's literally already been doing for, again, twenty entire years. Why are you suddenly making it weird! Last weekend Justin's stepmom mentioned seeing my mom at the hospital where mom works, and how she said something like 'yes I'm Jessica's mom-- wait, no, Jay, she hates it when I do that' and I just?? I literally don't, the only problem now is that people who know me won't know who the fuck you're talking about

all of this and I'm just. I am literally just sitting here. why are we inventing problems out of this two decades later. what is going on

[natootaro]

I have headcanons for that au

Douma had some problems with law, but he didn't touch children

Akaza was SA'd (I'm very sorry that I'm doing this constantly, I just love to headcanon him as victim)

Guitarist x Drummer canon (it isn't unfortunately, but they have a relation of old married couple)

They all had sex with each other except Nakime with Akaza

Kokushibo is not as problematic as Douma or Nakime but he revealed the fact that he broke his gf's heart in most brutal way, earlier cheated on her with Nakime

Nakime supports Douma's actions

Douma has already ruined reputation and unfortunately he doesn't give a fuck

Akaza was 16 when he joined the band, Kokushibo was 22, Nakime was 20 and Douma was 18

Former member of the band was Muzan, he was a second vocalist and bassist, he left when he felt like this band won't be ever in prime

He had an affair with Kokushibo, but that's a rumor 🤫

He was low-key jealous when the band had their prime and they somehow found new bassist to the point he was talking shit about everyone except Kokushibo (I wonder why)

Akaza was found by Douma by Tinder, because when Douma's lonely ahh was looking for a partner, he read Akaza's bio and texted him if he want to join the band

Akaza at first was like "wtf" but eventually he agreed

Somehow everyone there are bisexual and the highest body count has Douma of course

If band wasn't problematic, Akaza would just stay

Muzan was just bassist in one album "Tighter" before he left

Akaza and Nakime are sometimes the second vocalists, for example, Nakime is heard mainly in "Get it up" and Akaza is heard in "Shut it up"

Kokushibo is the one that fans don't really know anything about him, he doesn't mind it tho

Nakime always have a little dance to preform when Douma sings "Ala mode" ("Coffee, candy pistachio nut [...]") and Akaza is the one who says "Ice cream will fix it"

Douma behaves like literal Jimmy

His vocal cords are capable of anything

"Witness", "Seven Minutes in Heaven" and "Mastermind" is sung by Akaza with a little help from Douma

Kokushibo's nickname is Kitty, Nakime's mother, Akaza's pinkie, later pinkie pie and Douma's horny drug addict

One time, in the middle of having concert and when Nakime was pregnant, her water broke unexpectedly and the event was stopped. The money was given back and Nakime gave birth to a baby girl, she later named her Mizuki

They stopped then giving any signs of live on media, blogs or anything and after 10 years they did the biggest come back with two new albums, first published was "Kokushibyō Means Black Death - Kokushibo!" (Which songs names are a slight hint what happened in Kokushibo's past, like some of them are named "Antidepressants" or "Abuse Me Harder!") and second, last - "MSI Besides" which ended with "Last Gay Song"

Akaza is the author of every album cover but he really hates drawing it

Kokushibo is gender apathetic

The "For The Love Of God" was based on Douma's experience with his parents forcing him to join into a cult when he was 15. He showed how strict they were and basically brainwashed, while he wasn't getting any of it and being a literal atheist but he still pretended. He is calling Satan, because he doesn't really see any other escape, but in reality, he escaped the cult as soon he turned 18. And when there's a sentence "Come here, I got something to tell ya, Jesus", instead of Jesus is name of the sect leader back then.

And the most stressful part of this story is that members of the cult wanted him to be the second priest and they're looking for him since the day he escaped, which is kinda freaking him out (let's say that he's afraid that they'll travel from Japan to America just to get him back)

Douma is hypersexual

KnY x MSI/band au

(second picture is my idea for album cover "Kokushibyō means black death" which is just for au)

Kokushibo - Drummer (Kitty)

Douma - Vocalist (Jimmy Urine)

Nakime - Guitarist (Steve, right?)

Akaza - Bass (Lyn-z) (let's say that Nakime is behaving more like Lyn-z and Akaza is more like Steve)

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I think I accidentally made Wriothesley AuDHD. fuck

[kdranime]

.

[queenerdloser]

nurse: hey remember how i called you about this patient's pharmacy insurance? you said they had it.

me: no, i said they had xyz insurance (multiple times). sorry for the confusion, but i can't verify pharmacy insurance.

nurse: well the patient said he signed up for this insurance.

me: okay. but i can't see it in our verification system at all and i can't add it on. that's not something our team does.

nurse: well is there a supervisor there who CAN see it?

me: it wouldn't matter if there was a supervisor here or not, they'd see the same thing i can see. which is nothing. because we don't verify pharmacy insurance. even if i COULD see it, i can't add it because our team doesn't do that.

nurse: well what should i do then?

me: well considering i've never been involved in the process of adding this particular insurance, as i told you and your other coworker earlier who called me about the exact same thing and with whom i had the exact same conversation, i can't really say for sure. i would've told you to reach out to pharmacy, as i would assume they can add this insurance.

nurse: well they told me to reach out to you.

me: well. don't know why they did that, since we can't add this insurance.

[longgggg pause]

nurse: okay thanks i guess