#cw financial dominance

[gabessquishytum]

I haven't tried to write this because it's not my kink, but findom Dreamling, with Hob as the dom of course. I mean what else is lonely divorced Dream going to do with all his money?

I'm literally rubbing my hands together and wiggling around. This is such a concept!!!!

I think Hob probably fell into the whole thing by accident. He was looking for easy money online, not opposed to the idea of sex work, and found out about the whole idea of financial dom/sub relationships, paypigs, all that jazz. At first the morality of it all seemed skewed, but the more he read and witnessed in forums and chatrooms, the more he got used to it. Even got kind of into it? He started trying to pick up "clients", learned the ropes, and before he knew it? He had a popular profile on a fetish site. He collected a few regulars, took on a few who just wanted to try it out... and then along came Morpheus.

Morpheus was pretty new to the scene, but knew what he wanted. A younger man, someone to humiliate him, someone to dominate him and most of all - someone to use his money on. Hob was pleased to take him on after establishing rules and safewords. Their communication would be mostly online, but Morpheus was not opposed to meeting in person, too.

Flash forward a while, and Hob has never enjoyed a client so much. Morpheus makes him truly enjoy his work. He's so pretty, so frail and pale and delicate. So easy to boss around - not that he doesn't talk back. He can be quite a brat! He'll refuse to answer when Hob asks him if he's pathetic, needy, useless. He'll look away when Hob demands to know why Morpheus thinks he deserves to be so rich and privileged. It can take hours for Hob to break him down until he finally capitulates and wires tens of thousands of pounds into Hob’s account.

He buys the most extravagant gifts. Everything Hob demands, and more. Clothes, gaming systems, watches, cars. He lives for the look of pleasure on Hob’s face as he enjoys his latest gift. Seeing Hob slide a new rolex onto his wrist is enough to make Morpheus cum in his underwear. He's so fucking precious.

Morpheus is obviously concerned that Hob will lose interest in him, but he doesn't need to worry. It's strange, because Hob has never had strong feelings about a client before. But he's kind of obsessed with Morpheus? He loves it when he goes shopping at all the designer stores while Morpheus trails behind him, obviously so turned on that he can hardly function as Hob spends his money. It makes Hob think of the future, some kind of permanent arrangement perhaps.

Morpheus’s family are going to hate him. But Hob sees it like this: he makes Morpheus happy, and he makes Morpheus cum a lot. Where's the harm in that? And all that money is only going to be wasted sitting in the bank. Much better to have gorgeous Morpheus on his knees, whining through his second orgasm as he transfers another 5,000 into Hob’s account....

[fleurhcss]

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚♡ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐨 𝐈𝐭 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 - Seungmin x FEM!Reader

cw: some cunty and kinky shit, very hard sex, best friends to lovers, very possessive and hard dom seungmin with a sweet trait (im sorry i love my minnie), bratty reader, you are really a whore, stripper reader, mention of alchool and jealousy, handcuff

sw: hair pulling, pinv, cunnilingus, oral (M! receving), orgasm denial, multiple orgasm, scratching, biting, marking, bit of blood cuz seungmin is very kinky bastard MDNI!

wc: 7k

synopsis: Financially, you are not doing well. In addition to your part-time job, you attend some clubs in the evenings in order to earn a little more money. You do not mind showing off, as you love receiving compliments from men and finding new partners with whom to engage in sexual intercourse in order to satisfy your sexual frustrations. Your closest friend, Seungmin, is unaware of these circumstances. Given his protective nature, it is likely that he would take extreme measures to protect you. One unexpected outcome of the situation is that the individual in question has become a possessive dominant. He unintentionally discovers the extent of your job. This results in a particularly harsh fuck between the two, during which he is merciless. Your initial perception of him was that of a kind and gentle individual. However, upon further reflection, it becomes evident that he is, in fact, a complex and intriguing character. His actions and demeanor often elicit a strong emotional response, including feelings of intense arousal and even physical sensations such as bleeding.

a/n: hiii, I'm writing this since the chanel event! I'm sorry if i take request so sloowly but it's exam ses. now! Hope you will like this, i had fun writing it 🫶🏻🩷 made especially for this cutie @chrizzztopherbang . I opened a ko-fi account, i will post there some stories and drawings, if you want to support me i will be grateful to anyone who wants to give me tips, ITS NOT OBLIGATORY

[ SMUT ]

Another day at one of your many jobs. Lately you have been having financial problems. These included paying for university fees, rent, food, bills and other necessities. To supplement your income, you have been working four different jobs: bartending, librarian, after-school care every other day, and nightclub work every night. Your friends were unaware of this aspect of your life, as it caused you considerable embarrassment to discuss it. However, you did not feel uncomfortable about it. The practice of tipping for extra services was beneficial, although not all men were comfortable with it. Some men were able to satisfy the sexual frustrations of the women with whom they engaged in such activities. At this point, you were in the midst of a professional endeavour, helping high school students to improve their GPAs. It is remarkable that these students held you in such high esteem. Despite the exhaustion that inevitably accompanied the work, you found great satisfaction in your role. As you corrected the maths exercises of the esteemed Hana, an Anglo-Korean girl whom you held in high esteem and who always presented you with exquisite drawings, you contemplated the future once you had completed your current task.

At nine o'clock in the evening you were expected at one of the clubs in the city centre for your usual performance. In addition to the attractive salary, this job had another important advantage: you had always been passionate about dancing, and this was the closest thing you had to it. However, you had been forced to give up dancing for lack of time and money. After finishing the boys' homework and explaining some philosophical concepts and mathematical formulas, you retired to bed to get some rest. Fortunately, it was still six o'clock, allowing you to rest after an already exhausting day. You had studied in the morning, worked in the afternoon and now, in a few hours, you would resume your night work. The strange absence of your best friend's usual appearance or phone call had not yet occurred. At least he was fine. Seungmin was your best friend. He had two different personalities: during the day he was a polite and wealthy individual who showed considerable intelligence and respect; at night, when he was with his friends, he became a kind of Don Giovanni heartthrob. There is no denying that he had a certain appeal.

He was very protective of you and never allowed other men to interfere in your romantic life. As a result, he was the first to not know of your secret occupation. It is difficult to predict how he might have reacted, and it may have been for the best that he was not informed. If he ever discovered your secret, he would hunt down the men you were with one by one, and the outcome of that hunt was uncertain. He would then turn his attention to you, giving you a good-natured lecture and possibly resorting to other forms of intimidation. Your best friend was able to make him feel afraid, although you had learned this not from him but from Jisung, Seungmin's best friend, who had been caught having sex with his professor in Seungmin's car. You still remember his displeased behaviour and you were reluctant to provoke him further.

However, your premature declaration of triumph was premature, for he had not telephoned, but had arrived at your home just as you were about to fall into a deep sleep. The most disturbing aspect of the situation was the fact that you had given him the keys to your home, as he had been your closest friend for several years. So there was no need for you to get up and open the door for him, as he suddenly walked into your room in his gym clothes. This was somewhat unexpected, as he had previously expressed no interest in going to the gym. He himself noticed your puzzled expression at his unusual post-gym attire and appearance. "Good afternoon! Don't look at me with such disdain, Changbin Hyung is forcing Jisung, Felix and me to work out with him because he says we're too skinny," and you were overcome with laughter. The aforementioned were remarkably thin, consisting of two adorable little men with minimal musculature. They looked like little fairies, including Changbin, who seemed to have exaggerated musculature. Seungmin was considerably taller than the others and had broad shoulders. The image of him working out with them was quite funny.

"It's funny to consider the prospect of you working out with them. It is equally amusing to consider the prospect of you doing any kind of training at all, considering your past dislike of training," you concluded, making yourself comfortable and making room for your friend to sit next to you on the bed. He gave you a friendly pat on the arm and pouted in a way that was both endearing and characteristic of him. You had coined the term "Seungballons" to describe this particular pout, as it resembled a balloon. Furthermore, the addition of a pout in the form of a kiss would invariably render one unconscious. You found this behaviour endearing, and it prompted you to engage in a reciprocal act of affection by kissing him on the cheeks. "Ugh, in the end I have to admit that it is not without merit. It is a long-standing affair that is difficult to notice because of my tendency to wear baggy clothes. However, I have gained a considerable amount of muscle mass. Look." He said as he lifted the shirts he was wearing, causing you to be quite shocked because, yes, your friend had two pecs and a well-developed six-pack. His physical appearance provoked a strong emotional response, but he was your closest friend and you were unable to entertain such thoughts.

"You must tell Changbin that he has done an excellent job with you," you swallowed, made a feigned smile and drank some water, trying to erase the image of your best friend's partially naked body from your mind - although you did not mind. "I will, and I am grateful to you, my dear . Although we're going to a club tomorrow night; would you like to come?" he asked. You froze, considering the possibility of being caught. However, they did not usually frequent such places, so you had some protection if your luck did not turn against you. "I would like to tell you that I am unable to attend. I have a full day's work and then I have to prepare for an upcoming exam. Nevertheless, I would be interested to know where you are going, if I may ask." "I am not sure. Binnie Hyung informed us that he had discovered a new place and we were curious to know more about it," Seungmin said thoughtfully, and you felt a sense of relief that you still had the opportunity to withdraw.

But you were not convinced by your friend's desperate expression; you suspected he was hiding something. "Are you okay, Min?" you asked as you adjusted his bangs. "Yes, and I am worried about the taste of some of my hyungs, to be honest," he replied, leading you onto the bed and initiating a bout of tickling. That afternoon, your thoughts were not on the information your friend had given you. Instead, you found yourself contemplating his toned, naked chest. You had not anticipated his physical attractiveness, especially given his previous behaviour. You had grown accustomed to his puppy-dog appearance, with its endearingly youthful features.

So you did not consider the possibility that he might have been working out.

It was obvious that the ensemble suited him. Seungmin already had broad shoulders and one of your vices was to lean on them when watching a film or going out. It was a habit you had developed, but it was not a common occurrence. "Please don't change the subject. I'm curious about Changbin's tastes."

You giggled and pulled yourself together again. Seungmin was no innocent, so he blushed slightly.

His former partners had confirmed this to you, as they had discussed his sexual performance in great detail. However, he was ashamed to discuss certain topics in public or with you, as you were his best friend. He saw you as an innocent girl, which you were not. "Let's say he has a taste for strippers and nightclubs. That is all I am saying, and I am aware that it is a rather embarrassing subject".

He finished by running his hand over his face, making you chuckle.

"As if you had never seen a woman without her clothes on." You made the claim. In fact, he had observed numerous instances of female nudity, including those of his romantic partners.

"Yes, but I was with them. I am not like Hyung who has adventures with women who lap dance for him in night clubs". Had he been aware of this, he would have realised that this is exactly what you do for a living. "You have never considered fucking a woman you are not romantically involved with and who is not your girlfriend?" you inquired as you began to manipulate the fabric of his suit. "No, I'm... shy," he replied, biting his lip. He was looked at with a certain amount of disbelief.

" You! are shy?" you asked, looking at him with an expression that even he, as your closest friend, could not interpret. "Yes, I am," he replied, grimacing and then playfully pushing you. "You're really weird, Kim Seungmin," you pushed him back and then initiated a tickling session, blushing as you felt how well trained and sculpted he was under your touch. It was not the first time you had touched a well-trained chest, but Seungmin's did something to you. Maybe it was because he was your closest friend, or maybe it was because he was different from the others you had met, or maybe it was because you were used to seeing him consistently and exclusively as a thin individual with broad shoulders.

It can be argued that, without meaning to, you became preoccupied with fantasies about Seungmin to an extent that was inappropriate. Not only had you been friends for years, but he was one of your closest friends. Although you found it difficult to erase certain images of him from your mind, you felt guilty about thinking about him in a certain way. It is also worth noting that your nighttime occupation presented certain challenges. It would be highly undesirable for any of your friends, especially Seungmin, to become aware of your nighttime activities. On reflection, Seungmin had mentioned visiting a nightclub. If he were to find you on duty at one of the clubs where you were a regular, your situation would be untenable. It is unclear how Seungmin perceived you, but it is unlikely that he saw you as a dancer in one of the clubs that your best friend's best friend appreciated.

He suddenly asked what he should wear, causing you to look at him with a certain amount of concern. Your best friend was known for his occasional eccentricities. "Excuse me, but do I look like an expert on nightclubs to you?" you inquired, your tone betraying a certain concern. "No, but as a woman you might have the knowledge to dress me in a manner that would impress," he replied, almost shyly, though his demeanour betrayed his true feelings. "So my dear Min wants to impress a girl?" you inquired, playfully pinching his cheek as you laughed. He looked at you with a look of displeasure. "I am a man and I have not fucked for several months. I have certain... needs. By the way, it is undoubtedly a challenge for me to refrain from emotional connection during fucks. However, I cannot resist certain urges. Perhaps at the end of the night I can get a positive response from someone," he said in a low voice, his hands covering his face. "Are you really saying that you want to fuck while being all shy, Kim Seungmin?" You laughed in his face for the umpteenth time. "What do you want? It seems like you haven't fucked for a long time." He tousled your hair, but watching your expression closely, he returned it with a confused one, to say the least.

The problem was that you lacked the ability to lie effectively, especially in the context of deceiving him. As a result, you often displayed peculiar facial expressions that he was able to read with remarkable clarity. "Oh my God, fuck! You fucked with someone and didn't tell me?" he asked, his expression showing more anger than offence. "That is not true. You are imagining these events," you replied, trying to maintain a neutral expression. "Yes, you did. You fucked and did not tell me about it. You know you cannot lie to me, Y/N," he said, biting his lip with an expression that was both serious and intense. The atmosphere had become noticeably more intense, with a palpable sense of unease and tension. You were in a compromising situation and had placed yourself in a vulnerable position. You could have been sure that you felt the first drops of perspiration forming on your face. However, you were forced to end the discussion before it got to the heart of the matter. The most expedient course of action was to acknowledge that it had happened, even if in a limited way. "It happened on a few occasions when I was drunk, but it was not a regular occurrence," you said, trying to give a concise account. Nevertheless, he was not inclined to inquire about the incident in question.

"Only a few times when you were drunk? Are you crazy? What if something had happened to you?" There was the protective Seungmin you wanted to avoid. You were grateful for his concern and lack of complaints, but sometimes it became unbearable. "Still, it didn't happen. I am mature enough to understand the consequences of my actions, Seungmin," you said, pointing at him with your finger as if to admonish him. "Yes, I am aware of that, but I am concerned for your well-being," he said, grabbing your arm and then taking a bite. It could be described as a unique form of affection with which he expressed his apology to you. "I am aware, Seung, but don't worry, I am fully aware of my actions," you smiled at him, taking his face in your hand and planting a kiss on his forehead. "You should return home, as you are in a rather foul state, Mr Gym," you playfully admonished him, giving him a light tap on the shoulder before he left your domicile.

The working day was going to be quite long.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You were deeply distressed and felt considerable discomfort throughout your body. At work the night before, you were forced to work an extended overtime shift (for which you were paid only half the normal rate). This resulted in a complex set of experiences, including physical pain and a significant financial reward. You were required to have sexual intercourse with two people, a task which you found unpleasant, particularly given the lack of arousal involved. However, the remuneration was satisfactory and you did not express any significant dissatisfaction. You were aware that the nature of the work was inequitable, but you found it necessary and occasionally used it as a means of satisfying certain desires. Fortunately, you had acquired the ability to fake an orgasm, which you used on some occasions, such as yesterday. At that time you were lying in bed, surrounded by books for your upcoming exam, and in a few hours you would have to go to work in the morning.

That night, despite your best efforts, you had to go to a club in the city centre. You had completely forgotten that Changbin was going to take Seungmin and the others to a club in the city centre, which could very well have been the one you were on duty at that night. However, you had not considered this possibility and your mind was so preoccupied that it kept slipping away. So you prepared discreetly for your exam, unaware that that night was the perfect opportunity for you to meet your closest friend, who was likely to be visibly distressed. You were due to perform your duties that afternoon and hoped that the number of customers would be relatively small, given your limited mobility.

The mere anticipation of returning to work that night caused a deep sense of anxiety. You hoped that no one would ask for private shows or other activities that you sometimes found unpleasant. The only desire was to rest and wake in a pool of wealth. You rose listlessly to prepare your lunch. It was not possible to combine work and rest in this way, so you had to take painkillers and vitamins.

You then found yourself preparing and serving smoothies and ice creams in your favourite café. Your day went on as usual. What you did not anticipate was the presence of your closest friend at the table you were to serve. One might ask whether you should not have been preparing for your evening activities. One is tempted to inquire about the nature of their joint venture in a café a few hours before their nightclubbing. They expressed their displeasure at the proprietor's suggestion that they should hurry to serve the aforementioned table, and furthermore, they could not avoid the situation, as Seungmin was aware that this was a table assigned to you, and sat there consistently with the intention of being served.

After a long period of contemplation, you approached them. "Good evening, shouldn't you be getting ready for your clubbing night?" you said, your tone sarcastic. Your friend smiled at you and pinched your side. You wanted to run away. "Jisung is unable to consume alcohol unless he has had a meal or smoothie beforehand," Felix informed him, drawing a scornful look from him. "It is not recommended to consume alcohol on an empty stomach." The boy explained that alcohol is absorbed more quickly into the bloodstream and the effects of intoxication are more pronounced. "Isn't that the point of going to nightclubs? And who told you this? Your respected professor?" the older boy asked jokingly. They looked at each other with a strange expression and Seungmin continued to explain the matter: Jisung had a somewhat unconventional relationship with one of his university professors, characterised by frequent flirting. "I have to respectfully disagree. Minho is a very good professor," he replied, blushing. Her expression was unmistakable. "You're calling him by his first name now, too," he observed, causing a general outburst of mirth, especially the adorable blush on Jisung's chubby cheeks.

"So what can I get for you?" you inquired, interrupting the conversation to take their orders and get out of your friend's company. You were particularly keen to avoid the question from your friend, who would undoubtedly invite you to the evening's event.

You had only been there a few minutes when you noticed Seungmin casting furtive glances in your direction and his friends teasing him about something you did not understand. Unbeknownst to you, they were teasing him about the fleeting glances he was sending your way. "Seungmin, did you notice that you are eating her with your eyes?" inquired Felix, appropriating the cherry from his milkshake. "That's not right," he replied, taking a sip from his glass. "Indeed it is. One might suggest that you ask her out," the blonde continued. "That would be an unusual and somewhat awkward situation, and then I believe she might be involved in a nocturnal affair, or perhaps even a series of them," he said, lowering his head. "And you are jealous! "Which leads to the question if this is what you want to do tonight," Changbin inquired. "Be silent. It is possible that I am indeed jealous. "

The observed behaviour was merely the incessant movement of lips in an attempt to escape the source of discomfort as quickly as possible. Fortunately, twenty minutes later the group left and Seungmin offered you a quick kiss on the cheek. This sparked further merriment among his small group of friends, causing you to become increasingly suspicious. Your only concern was to avoid running into them at the nightclub where you were working that night. This had been your intention since yesterday, since your closest friend had informed you of it. Your anxiety about this matter was greater than your concern about your inability to dance effectively due to the discomfort of the previous night.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

In the midst of your preparations for the upcoming show, you were forced to change your clothes in a hurry. Fortunately, you had already finished your make-up. The evening dress was of a revealing nature and the dancing was expected to be energetic. It was hoped that the wearer would not feel uncomfortable. Your colleague entered your dressing room and informed you that you were about to perform, so you began your usual stage performance for adolescent and middle-aged males.

The only people missing were those you expected to see at the club. The only discernible difference was that they were watching you, watching you with particular interest, especially your closest friend, who opened his eyes wide as he consumed no less than two shots in the space of three minutes. "What is she doing there?" he asked, clenching his fists as he fixed his gaze on you. "I'm sure there must be an explanation, and maybe she didn't tell you because she didn't want you to worry," Jisung said, grabbing his shoulders behind Changbin as Seungmin seemed on the verge of exploding. "She's undeniably attractive," the shorter one remarked, drawing a withering look from the younger one. "Hyung, I strongly recommend you not to make any advances towards her. It is already difficult enough for me not to pick her up from the stage, but I assure you that as soon as she goes to the dressing room, I will not let her get away from me." He downed another shot of vodka.

It is unfortunate that at the end of your nightly performance, another person followed you into the dressing room and you failed to notice the presence of Seungmin, who was standing directly behind you and had suddenly issued a silent threat. The incident was so severe that when you turned around you suffered a stroke and lost the ability to speak. Your situation was indeed very screwed up. "Seungmin, I can..." you were abruptly interrupted and led to your dressing room where he sat you down at your personal table. His gaze was one of intense desire, imbued with the combined effects of alcohol and rage. You had never seen him in such a state. "Explain? What exactly do you want to explain to me? Explain how you sold your body without ever telling me?" He said, grabbing your waist. That should not have aroused you.

"I have economic problems and this is the only job that offers a satisfactory salary," you said in your defence. "I am indifferent to the matter. I could have helped". You are my property, OK? No one is allowed to touch you, Y/N". He then kissed you with considerable passion and force. This was a source of considerable distress for you, as it was different from your expectations of the situation. Although you experienced a degree of pleasure, the situation remained somewhat unusual. His hands were of considerable size and appeared to be a suitable instrument for caressing. "Why not? Who decided that I belong to you?" you inquired in a teasing manner. At this point the situation became increasingly amusing for you as well. "I must now erase the memory of this unclean contact before I had the opportunity to do so," he whispered into your ear before reaching down into the hollow of your neck and allowing you to ingest the substance. "Seungmin, my legs are tired. I am unable to walk," you informed him, indicating your own limitations. "There are numerous other ways to satisfy our mutual desires, and we will address this particular issue at a later time." Furthermore, I am. While I wish to destroy you, I would never take advantage of a woman in this state. Remarkably, he remained in character as the usual Seungmin knight.

"What are you going to do in my dressing room?" you asked, watching as he bent down between your thighs and pulled off the suit you had worn for the evening. "I am not sure. I have a craving, if I may be so bold as to say." He smiled. This young man you had previously considered a potential threat to your sanity. He found your body aesthetically pleasing. He began another insatiable and passionate kiss. His hands descended in a sweeping motion, tracing a path down your body, cupping your thighs and gradually rising to your buttocks, which he gripped firmly in a vice-like grip. "Your beauty is such that it is unconscionable to wait any longer. I want you and I want to play a little," Seungmin said with a sneer in his voice. Then he moved you to the small sofa with the instruction to straddle his body. He proceeded to kiss your neck, leaving a series of marks. It was inevitable that he would bite you, it was apparently a habit of his. You had learnt it from his exes. He would bite you to let you know he owned you, bite you until you bled, and lick the mess he made. This aroused you considerably. He smiled, indicating that he understood. You were in a state where he could do as he pleased. No other person had ever made you feel such intense arousal.

"Look at you, you are ready for me to do anything I want to you." He was not aware of this either.

The young man moved closer to you, initiating another passionate kiss as he cupped your neck with one hand and used the other to caress your intimacy. The movements were slow at first, but soon accelerated as your best friend removed your panties and quickly stroked your clit. When he became tired, he began a long series of kisses on your inner thighs. He then grabbed your thighs and brought them up to his shoulders. He then began to leave kisses on your vagina. "Please don't wait any longer," you said and Seungmin laughed and then began to lick your cunt in a long slow motion. He cupped your ass as he massaged it. You had been waiting for this moment ever since he had put his thin, large hands on your waist the day before.

"Seungmin, please..." you almost begged him before arching your back in a series of involuntary gasps, clinging to the back of the sofa as best you could. You looked at him, pressing harder against his face, wanting more and more. He laughed as he watched the reactions he was provoking in you with each touch, which only served to increase his desire to possess you. He grinned as he continued what he had begun. His hands were firmly harpooned in your bottom and thanks to the pleasure you were experiencing, you had thrown your head back. He laughed again as his tongue continued its work. He found the taste of you on his taste buds particularly delicious, sending him into a state of intense pleasure. He was deeply and passionately in love with you, with every aspect of your being. His nose came into contact with your pubic hair as a result of the depth of penetration achieved with his tongue. He was enjoying himself to a considerable degree, as evidenced by your moans and the pulling of strands of his hair. Seungmin was not uncomfortable with this aspect of your behaviour, in fact he found it erotic in a special way. He smiled as his tongue explored your orifice in slow, circular movements designed to bring you to a state of ecstasy. Seungmin silently enjoyed the experience. His only goal was to ensure your pleasure. His hands moved to the sides of your thighs, which he slapped hard. He took pleasure in leaving his marks, but he would never do anything to harm you; he worshipped you.

Then his hands moved in a circular motion, grasping your thighs and placing them on your shoulders. His mouth, which had previously been in contact with your clit, moved to sink his teeth into your inner thigh. He took pleasure in leaving his marks on you. No one was allowed to touch his woman; you were his and his alone. You were his. A pocket knife emerged from his boot, the purpose of which was unclear. However, before this could be determined, he took your labia majora between his teeth and pulled them towards him, pressing them against his mouth in order to suck your clitoris. This was done in a manner reminiscent of sucking a straw. He then drew a thin line with the blade of the penknife, leaving a streak of blood, all the way to your mound. This brought you to a state of considerable arousal. He withdrew from your vulva, reached up to begin his work, and began to lick the warm, crimson liquid that was slowly oozing from the wound. In addition, the moans of pain and pleasure you gave him drove him to a state of unprecedented ecstasy. The sensation of your mouth alone was more fulfilling than any other experience. He continued to suck on the blood dripping from the wound, causing further lesions on his breasts, around his nipples, in his groin and near his navel. This only accelerated his orgasm. Furthermore, when he inserted two fingers into your mouth, which was already open, he continued to stimulate your tongue. "Look at you... my submissive slut," he said, smiling.

He sneered as he took your face between his fingers. The picture showed you in a blood-soaked state. After a short interval, he withdrew his fingers and proceeded to stimulate your orifice by alternately inserting and withdrawing his digit. This was done in such a way as to create a deep sense of arousal. Seungmin was fascinated by the prospect of fucking you at that moment. "What is your desire, my princess?" "Not that you can do much in this state," he said, laughing, referring to his fingers inside you. "I want to touch you," you whispered, your voice hoarse from the constant moaning. "You can do better than that," he winked, then pulled away and sat you down on your side, then stood up, took off his trousers and sat down beside you. You stood frozen for a moment at the sight of his length; he was tall and compact. You had never seen one like it before.

"I see you are happy with it, Princess," he said, bringing your face close to his. You had fully perceived what he was trying to achieve. You were fully aware of his intentions. You were incapable of uttering any further words, as if his imposing stature had put you in a state of trance. He then proceeded to rub the head of his member against your lips in what appeared to be a teasing manner. It was not difficult for you to open your lips and make contact with the glans. You then proceeded to suck on the tip and then ran your tongue along the entire circumference and veins. You stimulated the testicles with your hands, causing him to moan hoarsely. As you continued to insert him fully into your mouth until you reached the uvula, you let out a moan that caused his member to tremble. This elicited a high-pitched moan from him.

"Fuck, baby like that." He explained that by grabbing your hair and then fucking your mouth, you were sure that you would come again if he continued.Indeed, your assumption proved to be correct.

That is exactly what happened.

"Fuck Y/N, I'm coming, take it off," he said, removing his hand from your hair. But you had no intention of removing your mouth. You grabbed his thighs and thrust his member deep into your throat, causing him to release inside you with a long, audible moan. You swallowed, licked your lips and looked at him. "You are incomprehensibly unaware of the effect you have on me," he winked. "I can, however, inform you of the effect you have on me." You giggled, then reached up to his ear and planted a kiss beneath it. "You have brought me to another orgasm," you said with a hint of mockery.

"Now, if it pleases you, I would be grateful for a date and to clean you up," he smiled as he led you to your private bathroom. "I would be most honoured, sir," you replied, laughing. It was not the ending you had expected.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The experience of being discovered by Seungmin during a night shift would not be on any normal person's bucket list. However, the incident led to a change in your life. Seungmin had persuaded you to quit your job at a nightclub because he was concerned about your welfare and did not want you to be used as a mere object by men. Among other things, he had offered to support you financially until you found suitable alternative employment. He helped you to find a job that offered a comparable income and was adamant that it did not involve the exploitation of your body for sexual gratification. Although you were initially reluctant, given your long-standing opposition to his financial support, you eventually agreed.

The unexpected meeting also took place. He had invited you shortly after your encounter in the dressing room while he was discreetly cleaning up the mess. To be honest, you had never considered Seungmin as a potential romantic partner. However, your perspective had gradually changed over time. Back then, his friends, who were also your friends, had informed you that he had been casting furtive glances at you and had developed an interest in you. This confused you at first, but you eventually got used to it. You also had to prepare mentally for the meeting.

You did not deny that you were a little apprehensive; you were unsure of the destination he had in mind for this evening. He had instructed you to dress in a way that was both comfortable and tasteful, but your anxiety was growing. After a long shower, you began to look through your wardrobe, but it was difficult to choose an outfit without knowing where you were going. In the end, however, you chose a relatively simple ensemble consisting of a black ruffled skirt, not too short, and a top of the same colour that left your shoulders bare and had a boat neckline. You wore your beloved wedges. If you had to choose between them and heels, based on what Seungmin had told you about elegance and comfort, you would have chosen the latter. Your make-up was minimal, your hair was wavy and fell to your shoulders, your necklace was tightly fastened around your neck and all your jewellery was in its proper place. You completed your ensemble with a fruity and very sugary perfume before heading into the living room to wait for your no longer best friend.

Seungmin arrived shortly afterwards with a large bouquet of roses, in keeping with his reputation as a gallant man. You smiled as you remembered that he had not been in bed with you, especially after the knife performance. He said, "For you, my princess," and then kissed you on the lips. The anticipation of the evening's events had been palpable, yet the simplicity of the act itself evoked a deep sense of emotional resonance. The culmination of this experience was the tender kiss beneath the earlobe, accompanied by the words, "I hope you are well prepared as we have a long night ahead of us".

It was your firm belief that if he had continued to talk to you like this throughout the evening, you would have been so aroused that you would have removed your underwear, even if there had been no physical contact. In fact, you sighed before placing the roses in a vase of water and accompanying him to the car. It was a revelation to you that the vehicle in question was of considerable size. It was also admitted that Seungmin looked particularly handsome that night. He was wearing a black tank top and loose black trousers. His appearance was complemented by a leather jacket and jewellery. His footwear consisted of half-heeled ankle boots, which were as black as the rest of his outfit. His hair was lightly gelled and curly. He was a man of considerable qualities and attributes. You licked your lips and he watched, giving you the opportunity to do so. It was inevitable that he would drive you out of your mind as soon as he could.

There was no denying that the car ride had contributed to the evening's events. He held your thigh firmly in his hand and massaged your skin, occasionally reaching under the fabric of your skirt. He was aware that this was having a positive effect on you and you were similarly pleased by the experience. He felt a sense of predatory intent, like a predator with a vulnerable prey in his grasp.

The evening was going well. He had taken you to a modest restaurant at an elevated location, and you had enjoyed a sumptuous meat dish accompanied by an excellent wine. It was obvious that he had not missed the opportunity to cast certain glances at you as he sipped the vin rouge in his glass. He continued to look at you in an increasingly intimidating manner. The conversation went well and you had always enjoyed his company. The topics were varied and engaging, even when a situation had developed between you that couldn't be defined with a specific term. However, it seemed that Seungmin had anticipated your thoughts, as he initiated a discussion on the matter. "Considering that this is a full-fledged date, I would like to suggest that we raise the status of our relationship to boyfriend and girlfriend. I don't think there's any need for a proper dating, as I'm aware of your preferences," he said, raising his eyebrows as he took another sip of wine. "I agree, except for one thing: you do not know me well enough to have discovered my clandestine activities." You provoked him, knowing how the subject would arouse his jealousy. "I did not expect you to go so far." "I have always thought of you as my princess and hoped that you would eventually ask for my help." He wrinkled his nose. "Minie, it is important for me to be able to support myself. I am grateful for your help, but once I have secured employment, I would prefer you to stop helping me, okay?" you smiled with a pout in response.

Perhaps I should pay and we could go to my place?" he asked, smiling, before wiping his lips and getting to his feet. You did the same, but were stopped by him. He took your hand and kissed it before leading you to the exit. "This dinner is a date, and I am paying as usual. You are my friend and I will treat you properly," he said, making you blush. The gentleman in question displayed admirable behaviour and etiquette when dealing with women. He knew how to treat women with the respect and consideration they deserved. It is worth noting that in addition to the bedroom activities mentioned above, you had also gained an understanding of his somewhat eccentric behaviour outside the bedroom. You then waited outside the restaurant for him to return. He reappeared shortly afterwards, accompanied by a second bottle of red wine. "It was an excellent meal, and I have a plan for tonight. You'll see what I'm capable of, my dear," he said with a chuckle, then led you to the car and drove you both to his home.

To say that he did not even allow you the opportunity to survey the surroundings, despite your intimate familiarity with the house, was an understatement.

He immediately picked you up and carried you to his bed.

He then disappeared, returning with two goblets of wine.That night will remain indelibly etched in your memory.You watched as Seungmin took off his jacket and black shirt, leaving the vision to his well defined abs and the glittering necklace he was wearing.As you watched him take a sip of wine after almost completely undressing, you had to admit that his actions made your entire body tremble. Your panties were now soaked. "Now, Princess, undress for me," he said, grinning and licking his lips.He then lay on the bed with one hand behind his head and the other holding the goblet.

By this time the positions had been reversed, with the man on the bed watching your every move while you knelt in front of him, removing each piece of clothing until you were completely naked in front of him.

"How beautiful, come closer," he murmured. You approached him on all fours, the naked intimacy of your body matching his, still fully clothed. He watched you for a long time, as if to etch your image into his memory. You smiled and shivered as he began a gentle caress of your form. He caressed your cheek, shoulder and breasts in that order. He then moved to the other breast with his free hand, having previously placed the cup on the table. He began to massage it at a slow and deliberate pace, appreciating the texture of your skin. He then teased your nipple with his fingers, before pouncing on it with his lips and doing the same to the other. One hand, which had previously been at the back of your neck, now moved to your waist, where it began to caress it. His touch was so seductively overpowering that it left you breathless. He applied pressure to your hip as his lips played with your breasts. He then moved to your shoulders, biting and branding them. Your hands were clenched in his shoulders, scratching them lightly as you rubbed your vulva against the covered flap of his trousers. "Wait a moment, I want to feel you on me," he whispered in your ear.

He separated your bodies for a brief moment, then proceeded to undress you completely, allowing your intimacies to collide. "How about riding me?" he asked, smiling and winking. Your lips parted in surprise at the mere suggestion. It was highly unlikely that you would have survived the night. Seungmin was like a mermaid whose enchanting song was meant to captivate and enchant. You swallowed and then nodded in agreement. You applied gentle pressure to the head of his penis between your labia, causing you to pant and eliciting a moan from the Major. He had brought one arm back behind your head while the other held you tightly against him, increasing the contact. You lowered yourself completely onto him, allowing him to enter and fuck you completely, which he did with considerable force. Your moans mingled, accompanied by a soft exclamation of "Fuck!" from him. "Your cunt is both tight and warm, which feels very good. You should start to move," he instructed, and you complied. Normally such an act would have been abhorrent to you, but with him it was all so natural.

As he stroked your hips, you had begun to move at a slower pace. It was a sensation you had never experienced with any other partner. It was as if Seungmin had an innate understanding of the exact places and techniques needed to touch you. Your movements became faster and faster and your nails were driven into his back. "Min, I'm coming. I can feel it. My thighs are burning. Please, speed up!" You were on the verge. "No, not yet," you grunted, then changed positions. You vocalised your displeasure as he withdrew from your embrace, feeling a sense of emptiness. At this point you were positioned beneath him as he continued to penetrate you, his imposing frame towering over you.

You were sure that an orgasm was imminent, given his position on top of you as he thrust vigorously into you. However, he seemed to disagree, indicating that he was not interested in facilitating an orgasm. He claimed that it was too early for such a reaction. So he withdrew from you, leaving you with an empty feeling. "Please, Seung, I can no longer stand it," you begged him. Only after he had pushed you with an animal force did he give you permission to come. "Your warmth and tightness are so arousing...come for me," he whispered, allowing you to release yourself around him. He informed you that they had not yet reached the end of the act. He then turned you over on your stomach and began to leave bites and marks on your back, tracing a trail of them all over your ass. He continued to lick and slap the area between your buttocks, causing you to moan. Despite this, you still had some residual sensitivity from the previous orgasm.

You were unable to speak as he sank back into you, twisting your hair in his grip and pulling it towards him as he thrust violently, abusing your cunt. You arched your back and rolled your eyes, no one had ever given you such intense pleasure. "Ah... Seungmin... please..." you moaned one last time before you came again. "Who gave you permission?" he demanded, thrusting at a surprisingly fast pace. It was relatively easy for you to reach your third orgasm in a row that night. "Seungmin, I'm about to..." The words were barely audible.

"Come with me," he groaned and then proceeded to ejaculate into you and you after him, now exhausted. "I will get you the necessary cleaning supplies," he murmured, then stroked your side and got a cloth soaked in warm, damp water to clean you. He then tied your hair into a braid and made you a cup of hot tea after dressing you in a pair of clean briefs and one of his shirts. "You look so lovely," you murmured, trying to relax on his chest. "It's the least I can do after making you come how many times?" he said, laughing as he pinched your side. "Three, but don't boast, sir," you gave him a tongue-lashing. "Do all gentlemen do it rough?" you burst out laughing.

TAGLIST 🎀 : @yongbokkiesworld @gloomy-k @raindropsondragons @linocvp1d @iiamthedramaa @snowyquokka @pynchkilledme @y4kie @ihrtlix @hyunjinnnsgirl @sugarsweetsugarsweet @reader1221 @bubblebisk @chrizzztopherbang @skzooluvr @yoontaethings @ovr9000

[crystalflygeo]

Sinful voice. ft "Morax" + fem!reader (modern AU)

cw/tags: Voice kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, female masturbation, uuhh fantasizing? petnames (sweetheart, sweetie, babygirl, darling).

notes: I literally had this sudden brainrot idea today at work (rip) and as soon as I came home I typed all this in a rush and bOI. That man's voice is just...... no words. Drives me insane, wild, crazy, feral.

To say you were nervous was an understatement.

You were starting a new chapter of your life, fresh into college, moving to a whole other city to dedicate to your studies and enter the “adult world”

You’d arrived a few weeks early to move in and start settling on your little space, it was barely a small room in a house you’d share with other new students. You’d even share a kitchen but hey, at least each one had a tiny individual bathroom for yourselves.

Tomorrow was the big day. Your first day. And although you’d heard many people say they would just take it easy or even skip the first few days (because “they were not that important” as schedules and teachers were still being organized) you’d heard just as many stories about how college was difficult and important and you gotta make good first impressions and familiarize and meet new people and blablabla…

It was pretty nerve-wracking.

So here you are, way past midnight, rolling over in bed unable to calm down.

You sigh and start messing around with your phone, bored. Maybe you can just skip tomorrow?

Or maybe…

You bite your lip. There’s a little something you can do to… relax.

Before you can even think, your fingers are already typing the familiar webpage name on the phone, already smiling mischievously.

In your search for a little “spice” for your solo pleasure sessions you often went for audios and ASMR content. The sounds and voices were much hotter than excessively raunchy lame crude run-of-the-mill videos in your honest opinion. All you had to do was get comfy, close your eyes, and immerse on the fantasy. It was bliss.

And so, a few months ago you had found him.

Morax.

Oh, that man had a voice to die for, deep and rich like syrup, making you shiver and whine every time. His content was absolutely top-notch and you’d been instantly drawn like a moth to a flame ever since you’d managed to drag out one of your best orgasms ever after listening and playing along for a few minutes.

And when you dug around and found his subscription page? Oh boy, you were a goner.

You can only imagine what your parents would say if they knew you spend money on something like this but hey, financial independence means you can spend your money (from part time-jobs and whatnot) on whatever you want.

And damn you want this sexy voice murmuring dirty praise on your ear.

You scramble out of bed, grabbing your earphones and getting rid of some of your clothes before settling down again comfortably, pillow propped against the headboard, almost giggling excitedly as you scroll around the page’s contents.

Morax was obviously an experienced dom. His content covered a myriad of different kinks and scenarios, many of which you had even only started to explore because of him. And though his voice was always calm and refined, with this sweetness and dominant tilt to it, his growls and groans could be just as wild. Morax sounded downright sinful when angry, scolding or degrading the listener. And his moans and soft chuckles? Oh, you could just faint with those.

Or come, probably. Yeah.

“Daddy fucks you in his lap” “Overstimulating my pet’s little clit” “Grind your sweet pussy on Master’s leg” “Waking you up with my big cock” “Making you my good girl” “Cum until you cry and beg”

You blush as you look at the titles, skimming around tags and descriptions looking for whatever strikes your mood tonight. Heck, anything would be fine if it was him though, you swore you weren’t even into the whole daddy kink before you heard Morax but now…

Oh.

Well lucky you, he’d just uploaded something new a few hours ago, you were one of the first views… ever the fangirl, huh? You click on it as you subconsciously lick your lips. Gods, your body feels hot and needy already, knowing what’s to come.

“Daddy spoils your little pussy” reads the caption, and you place your phone by your side, lying down, propping your legs and closing your eyes.

Oh, oh my god. Your breath catches as the audio starts off right away with some lewd wet noises. Usually, Morax would sweet talk for a bit first to set the scene and mood, but you sure weren’t complaining!

Your heartbeat speeds up as your hands start rubbing at your legs and over your panties, just trying to get your body up to speed.

“Hmmm… oh, there you are sweetheart.” Gods. Morax’s voice. You already wanted to moan at the deep baritone vibrating in your ears. “I’m sorry to wake you up.”

How ironic that you couldn’t sleep yourself.

His voice drags, sounds a little tired and hoarse, it just adds to it and you picture him kissing and dragging his tongue along your skin “You like that don’t you baby? Feeling my lips… tracing your hipbone like this. I can feel the goosebumps blooming along your skin.”

Oh goosebumps alright, you shiver as you rub at your skin a little impatient, how you wish you really had his lips worshipping you right now.

“You don’t even have to do anything, you can even just go back to sleep, if you’d like.” He chuckles. “But daddy just needed you, he needed his… hmm… sweet babygirl.”

“Hng Morax yes… need you too, daddy.” You whisper softly, already shifting on the sheets.

He continues to kiss and whisper sweet nothings about how he wants to make you feel good, kiss you and pamper you and make you relax, and you melt. His soft breathing and wet sucking and kissing noises turning you on instantly.

“Alright sweetie let’s take these panties off.” There’s a slight rustle of fabric in the audio as you quickly strip off your own underwear along. “That’s a good girl. Hmm… look at your sweet little pussy, already wet and swollen for me.” He groans and you whimper and buck your hips.

“Oh god please…” You’re so keyed up already. Morax simply has that effect on you, and you wish he would hurry so you can start touching where you most need it.

“Hmm… just relax sweetheart. Lie down and let daddy take care of you… of your cute little pussy.” More erotic noises follow as you picture him slowly going down and down until he kisses and licks at your folds. “Oh, that tickles sweetie?” Another sinful chuckle.

His voice, his voice was just so good. You’d wondered many times what kind of man would have such a deep hypnotizing voice. Surely he was older, but maybe not quite a silver fox. Dark hair, maybe? A large frame, broad shoulders, lean muscles but still elegant, a proper gentleman to go with his personality.

You knew he had golden eyes, that was a fact. Well, at least what he’d mentioned in a couple of scenes, it could very well be a lie but you wanted to believe in that mysterious domineering golden glow, staring up at you like molten heat from above you or between your legs.

Morax’s voice keeps feeding your fantasy, commenting how wet you are, how your body twitches, how he drags, slow and languid around your hole and oh, it’s like your body responds exactly the way he wants, guided by him.

“Darling, let me just… hmm… suck on your cute little clit like this.”

“Ah!”

A shock of pleasure runs trough your veins as you start rubbing on the little nub. His voice muffled, moaning as he sucks and licks and sighs deeply, clearly enjoying this.

“So sweet, so good for me. Oh, it makes daddy just ache for you sweetheart.”  

You want Morax’s cock in you yesterday.

His voice turns breathy and strained, the noises and tension intensifying as you rub faster, legs shaking, your breath coming out in gasps to match his, back arching off the bed. It’s all so good, his praise, his dirty words, his gasps, his moans.

“Come on sweetie, I know you want my big cock but first… hng… first daddy wants you to cum hah… do that for me princess? Come for daddy, come on.”

“F-fuck… fuck… hnnng” You mewl. “M-Morax…”

“I got you darling I’m right here, you can cum baby I want to taste you.”

“Ah A-Ah!” Your mouth parts into a silent scream and your whole body tenses and shudders, pleasure buzzing in your veins and under your flushed sweaty skin. Your juices spill against your hand but you imagine them wetting his chin as his voice groans and moans in your ears. You picture those half-lidded sultry golden eyes glowering at you.

“That’s a very good girl…” He chuckles, and your hazy mind can picture him nuzzling at your inner thighs. “Now, now get ready babygirl, give me your legs like this.” A noise of sheets shifting registers in your brain “Around my shoulder and let me just… hng… stroke my big cock ready for you.”

Oh you were floating, your head was spinning, you parted your legs, following his every command, fingers still rubbing at your oversensitive folds to simulate whatever he was doing. You moan at the slick jerking sound and vaguely lament not having something to fill you up as he would.

“Hmm… we’re just getting started, my dear.” He hisses.

The night was long and the audio not even halfway…

———————————————————–

Even though you ended up going to sleep way past any reasonable time you didn’t really feel tired. In fact, you slept wonderfully, warm and sated. And so, you headed up to class with a carefree skip and bright smile, excited to see what this new day and new year would bring you.

The classroom was rather big but looked pretty empty even though the professor was already there, you slid into one of the front seats and quickly checked the time. You weren’t late or anything, he was just… punctual and early, it seems. Which is more than can be said by the majority of the students… if they are even coming to the class.

Some general studies were mandatory classes, though you’d only had to take a couple courses before moving to subjects more in line with your chosen career. But for now, seems like you had to deal with… history.

The professor was, well… handsome, to be quite honest. And you found yourself quietly admiring him from afar. Prim and proper with long silky dark hair in a low ponytail, a perfectly neat and brown suit, and thin elegant glasses that only drew more attention to his striking gold eyes. Not a crease in sight, not a hair out of place.

He was rather meticulous it seems, with the way he organized his material, checking the time before starting the class on the dot.

“Greetings everyone, my name is Zhongli.” He smiles warmly. “I believe a welcome in is order as this is your first day of college, a new stage of your life.”

No way.

Absolutely no fucking way.

His voice…

“Seems like you’re stuck with me for your very first class.” He chuckles.

Low and deep and velvet.

Oh, you know that exact same sound.

Your eyes widen.

Oh shit.

Mr. Zhongli is Morax…

“Let’s hope this year shall be a good and prosperous one, hm?”

[latenightdaydreams]

Oh, Author. To be in your presence (asks) one again is such a delight. With you and your divine power (writing)... Will you care to bless this lady by fulfilling her simple request? 🙏

Upon your Sub!König revelation (headcanon), a thought - a need - has been lingering in my mind for far too long. According to the scripture, it has mentioned König loves to be financially dominated. If this is true, grant us with the vision of Reader purchasing the best and the most expensive items - cough, toys and lingerie, cough - in the market as some sort of surprise for König. But it comes off as shocking news to him when he finds out whose is it for... It isn't meant for Reader at all. It's all meant for him. I am quite sure we know what ensues next: Our supposedly intimidating giant in lingerie, being teased and pleasured by toys 🤭

Sigh, what a sight to behold. A sight I shall engrave in my mind. Oh, and to add a little bit of a personal spice preference: Konig addresses Dom!Reader as "Meisterin (Mistress)".

Why such an absurd request? Unfortunately, I have quite the fascination for pathetic submissive men. And what better candidate to push into such abyss but our man König 😮‍💨🤌

Anyway, breaking out of my weird, poor attempt at formal speech. I hope you have a great day/night ahead and have been recovering from the pain you mentioned before 🫂 Take plenty of rest, stay hydrated and eat well, alright? Here's plenty of love that hopefully breaks your device screen and ends up san mothering you: ❤️💕💞💓💗🩷💖💝

You're so sweet🩷 Thank you for wishing me well! I also love how you wrote this hahaha

Submissive König is such a baby girl. I always think of this artist work! @ marndraws on twitter😮‍💨 They draw amazing sub/soft König.

A Little Treat (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

Sub Head Canon

>cw: fem/afab, bondage, toys, oral, sub/dom

1.4k word count

🪀

.

.

While sitting at his desk in the office, his phone goes off. The ringtone he has set only for you. He pushes himself back from the desk to check the message.

“Send $1,000🩷,”

König can’t help but to smile and he sends you 2k and text back, “I sent extra just in case. Love you.”

Standing in the middle of a high-end sex shop, you look down at your phone and smile. König is always so sweet. You walk forward to a classic maid outfit on the rack inspecting it. A kind woman wearing a black suit comes over with a kind smile.

“May I help you in any way?”

“Yes, actually. Do you carry this in XXXL?”

Once you get home, König hears the car pull up. He quickly abandons his work to rush downstairs and assist you. His eyes land on you ask you wait for him inside the car. In a hurry, he opens the driver’s door for you, holding his hand out to help you out.

“The bags are in the back seat.” You say as he kisses your hand.

“I’ll grab them.” König lets go of your hand and grabs four bags out of the back. His eyes widen as he sees where the bags are from. Excitement rushes through his body. “Liebling, what do you have planned for tonight?”

A small smirk crosses your lips. “You’ll see.”

You walk ahead of König as you both enter the house. Going straight upstairs to the bedroom, you sit on the bed as he places the bags on top of your shared dresser. His eyes gloss over you as he walks to you.

“May I kiss you?”

“Yes.” You turn your head up for him as he leans down and kisses your lips tenderly.

“Danke…” His voice was low as he pulls away from the kiss; looking at you with such adoring eyes.

“Are you ready to see what I got?”

“Ja, absolutely.”

“Sit.” You stand and walk over to the bags and bring them to him.

König sits wide eyed as you pull out a riding crop. He can feel his dick tingle slightly, thinking of your ass jiggling once he hits it. Then a pair of handcuffs; his eyebrows raise in surprise. He continues to watch as you pull out many types of toys and his cock gets hard. Then you hold up a maid’s outfit…clearly not in your size. He tilts his head.

“You’ve been such a good boy lately; I want to treat you.”

“Das ist für mich?”

“All for you.” You say, holding the outfit out to him. “Try it on.”

He stands slowly and grabs the outfit. You sit on the bed opening the packaging to some toys as he gets dressed. König stands there looking at himself in the mirror. His muscles bulging in the tight outfit.

Stepping out of the bedroom, König sees you fully undressed. His jaw drops as he looks up and down your body.

“You look so hot König.”

He blushes and looks down at his own body before bashfully looking back up at you. “Ja?”

“Yes… come here.”

He walks to stand in front of you, his pale blue eyes gazing down at you. You reach up to caress his body, feeling his muscles underneath the fabric of the outfit. A hand dropping down to go under the skirt of the outfit, grabbing his hard cock.

“My handsome boy…” The words leave in a whisper as you walk around him, grabbing the cuff and placing them on his wrist.

You turn and walk to the bed, beckon him to follow you. The giant war criminal listens to you, no questions asked. “Bend over.”

He bends over the bed. His muscular ass showing from underneath the skirt of the maid’s outfit. You rub your hand over his ass before spanking lightly. Reaching for the riding crop, you step back and lightly tap his ass. No reaction. You reach back further and hit him with it again. He jumps slightly before letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Are you okay?”

“Ja.”

“Yes what?” You hit him again. A small red mark appearing on his pale skin.

“Ja Meisterin.”

“That’s my good boy.” You spank him a few more times. Reaching down, you grasp his balls and tug on them slightly before spanking him again. His body jumping slightly, making you giggle as you spank him once more.

“Who owns you?”

“You do, Meisterin.” The tone of his voice so tender.

“Good boy. Now lay on your back for me.” He maneuvers himself further onto the bed, rolling on to his back as he waited for your next move.

You go through one of the bags and find tape, nipple clamps, and a small pink vibrator. In one hand you hold the items and walk to the bed. With one finger you begin to flick his nipples, getting them hard. Once his pink nipples were erect, you place the clamps on them.

König winced slightly, but then bit his lower lip. “My little pain slut.” You giggle as you tug on the chain connected to the clamps. Standing off the bed, you walk around it, lightly hitting his abdomen with the riding prop.

König’s eyes are following your every move, watching as you walk in front of him and lift the skirt again, exposing his erection. Your hand wraps around it and begins to stroke his cock every so slightly. Spitting on it to lubricate it. König lets out shuttered breaths as you so this, the tip of his cock leaking even more precum.

Letting go, you get the small vibrator out, turning it on the first setting, then rubbing it on the underside of his cock’s head. His eyes go wide as he feels the vibration. He’s never tried touching himself with a toy before.

“You have to tell me which setting you like best.” You say as you switch through all five settings. On the third quick burst of vibrations, you see König begin to twitch.

“Tha- that one.” He manages to get out. “Bitte meine Meisterin.”

“Perfect.” The tape was easy to pull as you begin to wrap it around his boner, securing the vibrator to him. His legs twitch as he closes his eyes. A firm hand reaching down, grasping his jaw. “Open your eyes.”

He listens, his eyes instantly falling to your breasts. His mind fuzzy with the overwhelming sensation he is feeling right now.  Without breaking your eye contact, you climb up on to the bed and staddle his abdomen. You begin to grind your wet cunt along his solid belly, covering him in your arousal. A moan escaping your lips as König watches you do this with an intense gaze.

“Are you ready to eat my pussy?”

“Please Meisterin, please let me taste your pussy.”

“You’re being such a good boy.” Your legs move up until your lingering over his face, but facing to you can see his body. “Rub your nose in it.”

König uses his strong core to lean up and bury his aquiline nose deep into your pussy; taking in a deep breath as he does. Your smell is like candy to him, he can’t get enough. Slowly his tongue comes out and begins to lick between your pink folds. Thick globs of your creamy arousal being scooped up by his tongue.

In response you begin to rock your hips, matching his rhythm. Fingers going through his hair and pulling tightly. “Just like that.”

You lean forward and begin to stroke the shaft of him cock, his hips beginning to buck up into your hand rapidly. “Someone wants to cum…” You tease, feeling his head nod underneath you as he moans into your cunt.

“Will you cum for me?”

His hips begin to thrust quicker into your hand as his moans become louder. His tongue movements less precise and more erratic, like he is only focused on getting a taste and not actual pleasure for you.

“Good boy, cum for master.”

You lead forward so your ass if hoovering over his face instead of sitting on it. His balls tighten as his cock throbs. He tries his hardest to put his face back into your pussy while he cums, but you don’t give him that satisfaction. Toes curling as you leave him with only the view of your tight ass hole and creamy cunt.

His cock shoots out cum, the thick creamy cum falling on to your hand and his abdomen.

“Oh fuck!” König moans loudly. The vibration on the tip of his now extremely sensitive head was driving him wild. “Please, it’s too much now.”

A mischievous smirk crosses your face as you sit back down on his face. “Cum again for me."

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Chapter three | Entre Deux Mondes.

masterlist.

pairing : bruce wayne x fem!oc

author’s note : chapter three is here! Get ready to see a new side of Maryam and Bruce… ;) Just a reminder that English isn’t my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. xx

cw : maryam = older sister core, bruce playing emo as usual, mafia, bruce being a dick as usual, 18+, thriller, medical procedures, angst, mental health issues, noire, canon-typical violence, POV alternating, gritty, horror, illness, slow burn, action, fluff, mutual pining, forced proximity, crime families, comedy, crime, fighting ect… read at your own risk !

THE DINING ROOM was enveloped in the gentle embrace of late morning light, its golden rays filtering through tall windows, casting intricate shadows that danced gracefully across the polished mahogany table.

Two young executives sat at one end, their suits and neat ties an almost jarring contrast to the timeless elegance of the room. They leaned forward, their expressions taut with a mix of impatience and unease, eyes locked onto Bruce Wayne, who sat at the head of the table, a pair of dark sunglasses shielding his eyes. His posture was as impenetrable as his expression, a stone-faced calm that hinted at anything but interest.

One of the executives, his voice tight with the gravity of their situation, began to speak, "I'm afraid we're at a critical juncture..." His words hung in the air, but they seemed to drift past Bruce, who had barely acknowledged their presence since the meeting began. Instead, Bruce's gaze slid distractedly to the newspaper folded neatly beside him, an artifact of another world amidst the spreadsheets and balance sheets dominating the conversation.

The other executive, sensing the lack of attention from their host, leaned in, desperation edging into his voice. "At the very least, we'll need your signature to cover these losses..." His words trailed off as Bruce, with deliberate slowness, reached for the newspaper. The quiet rustle of the pages seemed louder than it should, filling the room with a subtle tension.

The executives exchanged a glance, their confidence faltering in the face of Bruce's indifference. Alfred, standing by the side with a composed demeanor, offered them a polite, almost apologetic smile, as if to say, this is just how it is. The room felt heavier with every passing second, the silence more telling than words.

Bruce opened the newspaper, his gaze scanning the sea of letters before him. To the young executives, it must have seemed as if the words on the page held the key to something far beyond their understanding, something that captured Bruce's attention more completely than their urgent pleas ever could. The wheels in his mind turned, not on the financial crisis they presented, but on something deeper, more distant.

"Mr. Wayne...?" One of the executives ventured, his voice a thin thread of hope in the tension-filled room.

Alfred's calm voice broke through the silence, an understated prompt, "...what?"

Bruce glanced up, his expression momentarily blank, as if pulled from some far-off place. He blinked, his mind refocusing on the present, on the weight of the situation that sat before him in the form of two nervous executives.

"I... I need your signature, sir..." The executive’s voice wavered slightly, the formality strained against the raw need for Bruce’s attention.

Without a word, Bruce took the pen offered to him, his hand moving with the same detached efficiency with which he had flipped through the newspaper. As he signed the papers, the young executives watched, a mix of relief and wariness settling over them.

The hum of the Batcave's high-tech machinery filled the space, a constant reminder of the endless work that took place within its shadowed depths. The dim light cast a cold glow on Bruce's face as he stared intently at the computer screen before him, his mind racing with possibilities.

Bruce’s voice, calm yet edged with intensity, broke the silence. “What if it isn’t a partial key...?”

Alfred, standing beside him, frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought. “What do you mean?”

Bruce’s fingers flew across the keyboard as he brought up the cipher on the screen, the intricate web of symbols and letters taunting them with its complexity. “What if it’s the whole key? Ignore the symbols we don’t have letters for, use only the letters from ‘he lies still,’ and leave the rest—”

Alfred’s eyes widened in sudden understanding as he followed Bruce’s line of thinking. “—blank, yes—I understand,” he murmured, his hands moving to delete the unnecessary letters from the cipher. “But that will leave most of the cipher unsolved... I don’t see how that—oh…”

His voice trailed off, his expression shifting from confusion to realization as the pattern began to emerge on the screen. The seemingly random jumble of letters and symbols was now stripped down, revealing something far more deliberate beneath the surface.

“Well.” Alfred’s tone was a mixture of surprise and admiration as he stared at the screen, impressed by Bruce’s insight.

They both gazed at the laptop, where most of the cipher was now blank. But the remaining letters, scattered across the page, began to align themselves, forming a clear, undeniable message. It was like a game of connect-the-dots, the letters slowly coming together to spell out a single, massive word across the screen:

“DRIVE.”

The word hung there, stark and unmissable, its significance yet another piece of the puzzle that they were slowly, methodically, beginning to solve.

                   After meeting with Gordon at the diner, Maryam returned to her apartment, feeling like she was about to just wither away. 

It was her only day off that week, and although she usually cherished it, her mind was too cluttered to truly enjoy it. She tried to sleep but kept tossing and turning. Frustrated, she picked up her phone and scrolled aimlessly through social media. With no notifications to distract her, she eventually threw the phone onto her bed with an exasperated huff.

Rising from her bed, her silk robe trailing behind her, she wandered into the small kitchen that overlooked her living room. She opened the fridge, only to find it almost empty. Muttering a little curse under her breath, she grabbed a lone carrot, rinsed it, cut off the ends, and took a bite. Pulling her phone out from inside her bra, she unlocked it and called the Japanese takeout down the road.

"Hey, Li, it's Maryam. Can I order the usual, please?" she asked, chewing on the carrot.

"On it. It'll be delivered in 15 minutes," Li replied.

"Thanks, see you soon," she said before hanging up. She then headed to the couch, flopping onto it. Grabbing the remote, she flipped through the channels—news, more news, reality TV, even more news, cartoons. She finally settled on an episode of Sex and the City.

As she waited for her food and half-watched her show, her phone buzzed. It was a notification from her sister Nadia, linking to an article titled, "Falcone Heir Spotted on Secret Date Night—Gotham's Underworld Buzzing!"

Maryam’s eyes widened as she read the headline. Vittorio Falcone, known to his close circle as Vito, was the eldest son of Carmine Falcone, the notorious mafia kingpin. Vittorio was strikingly handsome, with an air of mystery that made him a magnet for women. Despite his involvement in the family business, he was considered one of Gotham’s most eligible bachelors—second only to the reclusive Bruce Wayne, who, despite rarely being seen in public, still held the top spot in Gotham’s bachelor rankings. Vito's charm and loyalty to his family were undeniable, and while he had ambitions to make the Falcone empire legitimate, his ties to the criminal underworld were far from severed.

“Oh my God, are you kidding me?” Maryam muttered.

She couldn’t resist opening the article to see for herself. As she scrolled through the piece, her suspicions were confirmed—it was indeed about Vittorio and Alma’s date. Although the article didn’t identify Alma, Maryam recognized her sister instantly. That auburn hair and the red coat she’d gifted her years ago were unmistakable.

The article dripped with juicy gossip: 

"One of Gotham’s infamous bachelor, Vittorio Falcone, was spotted dining with a mysterious woman at an upscale restaurant last night. While her face was hidden, her auburn hair and chic red coat caught the attention of onlookers. Sources say the two seemed quite cozy, fueling rumors of a budding romance. Could the notorious Falcone heir be off the market? And who is the lucky lady that’s captured his attention? Gotham’s underworld is buzzing with speculation, and many are eager to see how this potential match could impact the Falcone empire."

Maryam rubbed her eyes in frustration. She was about to call Alma when the doorbell rang. Grabbing some cash, she opened the door, took her order, and handed over the money. 

Sitting on her kitchen counter, Maryam took her sushi out of the bag, the smell of fresh seafood mingling with the soft hum of the refrigerator, setting each piece neatly in front of her like little treasures. She tried calling Alma—no answer. Her eyes darted to the clock—4:34 PM. The room felt too quiet, too still. "Probably working," she muttered under her breath, the sound of her own voice a comfort against the silence. 

Without much thought, she dialed Nadia, who picked up after just two rings. 

“Have you seen it?” Nadia's voice burst through the line, skipping any pleasantries, her eagerness sharp as a blade.

“Yep,” Maryam replied, popping a piece of sushi into her mouth with her chopsticks. The wasabi heat lingered, but her tone remained cool. “Not shocked.”

“What?!” Nadia exclaimed, her disbelief palpable even through the phone.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little surprised it made the tabloids, but I’m not shocked he asked her out. I had my suspicions ever since I saw him at the restaurant where she works, looking at her like she was the last light in a dark room.”

“I can’t believe she actually accepted,” Nadia said, her voice tinged with disbelief. “And that wretched article—ugh, I swear I’ll always hate Vicki Vale!”

“She told me he kept pestering her,” Maryam said, her voice trailing off as she chewed her sushi, the thought lingering like the taste of ginger on her tongue. She shrugged, trying to brush off the unease creeping into her chest.

“Maryam, aren’t you worried? How—” Nadia’s voice rose, a tremor of fear threading through her words.

Maryam set her chopsticks down with a sigh, her calm facade barely masking the frustration bubbling underneath. “Of course, I’m worried. I’ve warned her over and over, but she’s as stubborn as a mule—just like the rest of us. I can’t control her anymore,” she sighed again, the weight of responsibility heavy on her shoulders. “She’s 24 now Nads, finishing her studies, and working like anyone else. She’s an adult, for better or worse.”

Nadia's voice softened, but the concern remained. “So, we’re just going to let this happen?”

Maryam sighed once more as she opened her curry rice container. The steam rose like a beckoning hand, enveloping the kitchen in the warm, rich aroma of spices. “She says they’re just friends. That he’s not as bad as we think.”

Nadia snorted on the other end, the sound of traffic buzzing in the background. “He’s in the mafia, Maryam. And not just any mafia.”

Maryam rolled her eyes, stabbing at her rice with her chopsticks. “Girl, that’s exactly what I told her. But try telling Alma she’s making a mistake. She’ll just brush it off and say I’m overreacting—again.”

“Well, you are kind of a brat,” Nadia teased, the smirk in her voice unmistakable.

“Only because you make it so easy,” Maryam shot back, a brief smirk flickering across her lips before fading, the frown returning to her sharp features. “Better a brat than blind,” she muttered under her breath.

Nadia hummed in acknowledgment. “Touché,” she conceded.

Maryam shook her head, the humor fading as quickly as it came. “I don’t get why he’s interested in her when she’s not even Italian.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing!” Nadia said, her voice rising over the distant honking of cars. “Aren’t they supposed to marry Italians? You know, to keep the tradition, the bloodline, or whatever.”

“That’s exactly why I’m worried she’s just another fling to him. She doesn’t deserve that,” Maryam said, her voice tight with a mixture of anger and protectiveness. “Plus, he’s not just some regular guy—he’s not just another stupid boyfriend she can break up with when things go south. This is literally a mafia boss. He has enemies, and God knows what could happen to her if someone tried to get to him through her.”

“Ugh, don’t even mention it. It’s terrifying. And his family! His father’s reclusive, but everyone knows he practically runs Gotham with all his illegal dealings. His mother died a long time ago, his sister’s in Arkham, and God knows where his brother is!” Nadia paused, her tone shifting. “Not gonna lie, I kind of feel bad for him.”

“Yeah, me too,” Maryam admitted softly, scratching her nose as her mind wandered back to old memories. “She told me he wants to make his business legitimate. When I used to work for Fish, he wanted nothing to do with the empire. But when his mother died, everything changed. He got more involved. He’s always been the most down-to-earth in that family, but still… I’m worried. I talked to Alma, but now I’ll try to talk to him.”

“What?! No, Maryam—”

“Yes, Nadia. I’m going to talk to him, persuade him to leave her alone.”

“And if he refuses?” Nadia asked, her voice dropping to a whisper, as if afraid to hear the answer.

“If he truly cares about her, he won’t refuse,” Maryam said, more to herself than to Nadia.

“What… what if he actually likes her? Maybe even loves her?”

Maryam paused, the question hanging in the air like a heavy cloud. “Then I won’t have a say in it. It’s between Vito and her if their relationship gets serious. For now, according to Alma, they’re just friends. So, I’ll try to persuade him to back off.”

Nadia hummed in thought. “So, you’re going to…” she trailed off, uncertainty lacing her words.

“I’m not sure—” Maryam began, her voice wavering as she stared at the remnants of her meal. “Honestly, I just don’t know,” she confessed, feeling the weight of the situation settling over her like a thick fog.

“Be careful, please,” Nadia’s voice softened, worry evident in every syllable.

“Haven’t I always been?” Maryam tried to lighten the mood, though her heart wasn’t in it.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I thought you left that life behind years ago, but somehow, it always comes back to haunt you,” Nadia said, frustration creeping back into her tone.

“It’s not like I have a choice. I’m doing this for Alma. I’ve always done it for all of us,” Maryam said sternly, her voice firm, but a trace of sadness lingered. “Desperate times—”

“Desperate measures, I know, I know,” Nadia cut in. “It just bothers me that you always have to be the one to deal with it.”

Maryam stared at her phone, the screen reflecting her own troubled expression. “Older sister duty, I guess,” she said quietly, the words heavy with resignation. “Look, I’ve got to prepare. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, okay. Bye.” The call ended with a click, leaving Maryam alone in her kitchen, the silence pressing in like a heavy weight. She stared at her phone for a long moment, the conversation replaying in her mind, the sushi long forgotten.

After staring into the void for who knows how long, she finally decided that some stalking was in order.

With a determined sigh, Maryam picked up her laptop and typed "Vittorio Falcone" into Google. The search results flooded in instantly, painting a vivid picture of Gotham’s notorious mafia heir.

The first few links were standard—news articles from various tabloids, all speculating about his latest escapades. One headline screamed, “Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor? Inside the Life of Vittorio Falcone.” She clicked on it out of curiosity.

The article was a deep dive into his life, filled with photos of Vittorio at high-end galas, charity events, and exclusive restaurants. In each picture, he looked every bit the part of a modern-day prince of the underworld: impeccably dressed in tailored suits, with sharp, chiseled features and piercing brown eyes that seemed to look right through the camera. He was often surrounded by beautiful women, none of whom seemed to stick around for long, fueling the rumors that he was commitment-averse.

Further down the page, the article detailed his upbringing as the eldest son of Carmine Falcone, Gotham’s most powerful and feared crime lord. There were mentions of his education at elite private schools, his brief stint at a prestigious university in Europe, and how he returned to Gotham after his mother’s death. The article touched on the tragedy that changed everything—how Vittorio, once seen as the more distant and detached son, took up the mantle in the family business after his mother's passing, much to the surprise of Gotham's elite.

Maryam scrolled past the glitzy photos and superficial gossip to the more serious content. There were links to investigative pieces about the Falcone family's alleged criminal activities. These articles painted a darker picture—of a man who, despite his outward charm and good looks, was deeply entrenched in the world of organized crime. There were accusations of money laundering, racketeering, and even more sinister dealings, though none had ever been proven in court. It seemed like Vittorio was always just out of reach of the law, his lawyers too skilled and his connections too powerful.

Another article caught her eye: “The Enigma of Vittorio Falcone: Gotham’s Underworld Prince with a Conscience?” This one speculated on his intentions to legitimize the family business, citing anonymous sources who claimed Vittorio was seeking to clean up his father’s empire. Yet, the piece also noted the challenges he faced, not just from the outside world but from within his own family, where tradition and loyalty to the criminal code ran deep.

Maryam found herself staring at a photo of Vittorio from a charity event. He looked every bit the polished gentleman, a slight smile on his lips as he shook hands with Gotham's mayor. But the eyes—those intense dark brown eyes—held something deeper, something she couldn’t quite place. Was it guilt? Determination? Or just the heavy burden of a man trying to walk two paths at once?

The more she read, the more conflicted she felt.

On one hand, he seemed like a man trapped by circumstances, trying to do right by his family while also seeking a way out of the darkness. On the other, he was undeniably dangerous, a key player in a world that had no room for weakness or sentimentality.

And then there were the comments—hundreds of them—debating whether Vittorio was a misunderstood anti-hero or just another ruthless criminal in an expensive suit. Some praised him for his charity work and the rumors of his attempts to go legitimate, while others condemned him for his involvement in the mafia, no matter how tangential he tried to make it seem.

Lighting a smoke, Maryam let the tendrils curl around her as she exhaled slowly. With the cigarette perched on her plump lips, she decided to dig deeper into Vittorio's family.

Her thin fingers danced across the keyboard as she first searched for his father, Carmine Falcone. The results were exactly what she expected: a mix of old newspaper clippings and online articles chronicling Carmine's rise to power, his iron grip on Gotham's underworld, and the whispers of his influence over city officials. Included were several grainy images of Carmine, embodying the essence of a powerful patriarch, alongside snapshots of his younger self with his parents, revealing a glimpse of his past.

Next, she turned her attention to Vittorio’s mother, Louisa Falcone. Unlike her husband, there was scant information about Louisa, aside from a few mentions of her being a devoted wife and mother. Most sources focused on her tragic death, which appeared to be the catalyst for Vittorio’s deeper involvement in the family business. There were no public photos of her, just a few images of her attending the Catholic Church of Gotham, which only added to the mystique surrounding her.

Maryam then turned her attention to Vittorio’s little sister, Sofia Falcone. As she typed her name into the search bar, her fingers trembled slightly, an instinctive reaction to the heavy air that seemed to surround the very mention of Sofia. The results that flooded the screen were deeply unsettling. Sofia, infamously known as the Hangman, was a rehabilitated serial killer currently housed in Arkham Asylum—a chilling title that sent a shiver down Maryam’s spine.

She had heard whispers of Sofia’s story before, but now, as she read the articles, the horrifying details began to unravel. The screen illuminated her face, casting a pale glow as her expression shifted from curiosity to disbelief. She leaned closer, biting her lip, her brow furrowing with each gruesome revelation. The articles painted a portrait of a woman who had taken her family’s legacy to a terrifying extreme, a twisted sense of justice fueling a brutal killing spree.

Maryam's heart raced as she scrolled down, her hand instinctively reaching up to rub the back of her neck, a gesture of mounting unease. Her eyes widened, and her jaw clenched as she processed the horrific acts Sofia had committed. The chilling accounts felt surreal, each one more gruesome than the last, each detail more haunting. 

The doctor shook her head in disbelief, as if attempting to erase the haunting words she had just read with sheer determination. She struggled to comprehend how someone could rationalize such brutality. She had seen her fair share of darkness, but this was something entirely different.

Finally, she moved on to search for Alberto Falcone, Vittorio’s little brother. This profile, while less notorious, still carried its own shadowy weight. As Maryam read through the sparse information available, she could feel the tension in her shoulders begin to ease slightly, but her mind remained restless. Alberto was known as the black sheep of the family, often overlooked and underestimated, a quiet figure lingering in the shadow of his more infamous relatives. Yet the whispers surrounding him hinted at darker inclinations, rumors of his involvement in the notorious Holiday killings that had haunted Gotham years ago.

A frown creased her forehead as she thought of the fractured family dynamic, the burdens each member must carry. With a sigh, Maryam leaned back, taking a moment to process everything she had just read. 

The Falcone family was a labyrinth of intrigue and peril, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that unraveling their secrets was crucial to protecting Alma.

She found herself grappling with a deep sense of hypocrisy. Who was she to pass judgment? Of all people, she was far from innocent herself.

Satisfied with what she had uncovered, Maryam turned her attention to tracking Vittorio’s movements for the night. 

She started by stalking the social media accounts of his known associates and relatives. And to her frustration, Vittorio himself didn’t seem to have any social media presence—no Instagram, no Twitter, nothing. The most she could find were accounts belonging to some of his younger relatives, mostly teenagers posting selfies and mundane updates.

But then, one profile caught her eye: a cousin of Vittorio’s, a certain Francesco Vittorio, who went by the Instagram handle "frankiefalconethegreat." The name made her roll her eyes, but as she scrolled through his recent posts, she stumbled upon a video in his story that piqued her interest. The clip was taken at the Iceberg Lounge, Gotham's most notorious nightclub, known for its shady dealings and criminal clientele.

In the video, Frankie was doing something stupid—likely showing off or trying to be funny—but it wasn’t him that interested Maryam. Behind him, in the dim lighting of the club, she caught sight of someone familiar. She quickly screenshotted the video and then zoomed in on the background. The lighting was poor, so she increased the brightness on her phone, enhancing the image.

And there he was—Vittorio Falcone. He stood partially obscured, talking in hushed tones with a man she didn’t recognize. A cigarette was dangling from his fingers, and his white shirt was open at the collar, the top two buttons undone, giving him a relaxed but undeniably commanding presence.

“Bingo,” Maryam whispered to herself, her heart racing slightly as she stared at the image. She had found him. 

Taking the last sip of her Sprite, the fizz tickling her throat before she tossed the empty can into the bin. The clink echoed in the quiet apartment as she made her way to her room with a determined stride, the air thick with purpose as she prepared herself mentally for what lay ahead. 

The decision was made. Her sister was right—she was going to suit up.

Tonight was no ordinary night; it was one that demanded more than just her usual resolve.

And it had been a while since she—transformed herself, hadn’t it? "A while" might be stretching it; it had been exactly two years since she last donned the costume.

But oh well, here she was again, slipping back into that familiar darkness, like an old lover who never truly left, always lingering in the shadows, waiting for her return.

As the silk nightgown slid off her shoulders, leaving her in just her undergarments, the cool air brushed against her skin, raising goosebumps—a fleeting moment of vulnerability before she transformed into something else entirely.

She first reached for a fitted, long-sleeved black shirt. The fabric was soft but durable, clinging to her form like a second skin, offering both comfort and the freedom to move. It absorbed the light, rendering her nearly invisible in the shadows.

Next, she pulled on a pair of tailored black pants, reinforced in all the right places for both flexibility and protection. They hugged her hips and legs, allowing silent, fluid movements and tucked neatly into knee-high boots—sturdy, well-worn, and perfect for silent, agile movement—essential for the night ahead. 

With her base layer in place, she began to suit up. 

First, the black scarf, soft yet deadly, was wrapped around the lower half of her face, transforming her into a phantom. The material clung to her skin, muffling her breath, but she was used to it—the silence, the secrecy.

Then her cloak, black as the void itself, draping over her shoulders and sliding down her arms with the weight of a familiar embrace. It flowed around her like liquid shadow, designed to hide her every movement, to make her one with the night.

Her hazel eyes, naturally vibrant like the light filtering through a forest canopy and always seeming to hold a kaleidoscope of emotions, were the final detail to mask.

She reached for the black contact lenses, slipping them in with care.

They turned her gaze into a pair of dark, unreadable pools—voids that reflected nothing back, hiding her true self even further.

With her transformation almost complete, she knelt down and pulled a box from beneath her bed. The lid creaked as it opened, revealing a carefully arranged collection of tools.

Her fingers brushed over the small, gleaming knives, their blades catching the dim light, each one honed to perfection. There were also vials filled with venomous liquids, each labeled with delicate precision.

They shimmered ominously, deadly in their silence.

Small, unassuming pills nestled beside them, tiny capsules that could bring about a world of pain or relief, depending on the dosage.

She began to arm herself, slipping two of the knives into the straps on her thighs, another pair into the hidden pockets of her boots. Six more found their place at her waist, resting just behind her back, ready to be drawn in an instant. The thinnest one, almost like a needle, was delicately tucked into her updo, a silent promise of lethal grace.

The pills were carefully placed in her pockets, their weight barely noticeable but their significance undeniable.

Each one was a solution, a safeguard, a final measure if all else failed.

As she tugged on her sleek black gloves, each movement was deliberate, like a distant ritual. 

She glanced back at the mirror, where her reflection stared back with an almost haunting intensity. It was as if the mirror had captured a shadowy echo of her true self, someone who was both there and not there, like a wraith emerging from a fog.

Heart racing, she darted through the kitchen, barely noticing the empty mugs and crumbs scattered on the counter. Her footsteps were quick and light, barely a whisper on the stairs as she ascended with a mix of urgency. 

Her destination? The Iceberg Lounge, where her favorite penguin awaited

previous chapter (chapter two) | next chapter

Maryam while stalking her victims 🙂 :

author’s note (number two) | Umm, so my hands were itching to write a scene between Alma and Vitto, but… I was kind of scared you all would get too bored with it, even though I’m totally obsessed with this little ship. I wanted to add more depth and show things from their perspective, you know? So if you're interested in reading something like that, let me know!

And don’t worry—Bruce and Maryam are definitely on their way; I’m just busy building the narrative, lol.

Seriously, tell me what you think! Who’s your favorite character and why? I love reading your comments; they keep me motivated to write more!

[carnivorousyandeere]

can we maybe get a full fic of Dorian and dominant asmrtist darling who's actually submissive

Dorian + Submissive ASMRtist Darling

( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )

CW: not super explicit but still vaguely smutty, recording without Darling’s knowledge, themes of voyeurism

Info: subby gn Darling

Dorian can’t stand it.

You and he both know what you do for a living. He’s your biggest supporter, after all. He thought having that acceptance from him, and financial security, would make you feel more comfortable.

And yet, you seem more nervous than ever in his presence. How is it that he has failed to end up on the domineering receiving end of that fire of yours? That wonderful voice of yours, and the expressions he’s always imagined go with it— everything from an encouraging soft dom smile, to a condescending sneer, to a cold expectant look.

Why is it that he can only catch those expressions through a peephole in the wall as you record? How long will it take for you to crack and take him? Is he not giving you enough money? Is he not performing the role of a needy submissive well enough for you? Is he not your type? Do you hate him?

Dorian’s usually not the boldest, but his patience has its limits. He interrupts one of your recordings, knocking on the door. You don’t answer, perhaps hoping he’ll walk away, but no such luck.

Dorian swings the door open gently. “Knock knock. What are you working on today?”

“Uhhh…” you look like a deer in headlights, eloquence gone and voice small. You turn off your recording. He tamps down his disappointment—part of him was hoping you’d get angry at his intrusion on your work. “Just… you know, an audio… found a new script, and… wanted… to give it a try?”

He can’t deny that your uncertainty is a bit cute. “What kind of script?”

You swallow and look away, embarrassed. “It’s… a little spicy. Um, a… dom speaker getting possessive at a party….”

“Oh?” Dorian steps closer, leaning against your desk and almost bumping into your mic. He notices your eyes widen with panic, fingers stretching out with the need to protect the equipment, but stopping just short of making contact with his arm. He sighs. You wither a little at the sound.

“You know…” he muses, turning to face you more fully, “I am a little surprised. You seem so much different in person than in your recordings… I know you’re an actor, but your performances are just so damn convincing.”

You laugh nervously. “Thank you for saying so… I really try my best. It’s… not always easy to act in a way that doesn’t feel natural.”

“Not natural?” His fingers pause where they’d been running over the smooth surface of your desk. “How so?”

“W-well…” now you’re truly flustered. Excitement wells in Dorian’s gut. It might not be what he expected, but damn if the real you isn’t all the better. He reaches over and cages you in against the desk. You swallow harshly as Dorian reaches up and traces your throat reverently, smoothing his fingers over your voice box and sliding them over to feel your hummingbird pulse. “Tell me. Use that lovely voice of yours.”

You let out a choked noise, clearing your throat and blinking out the foggy look in your eyes. “…I’m… actually… uh, not a… very dominant person…”

Dorian hums thoughtfully. “Why bother with acting the part of a dominant, then? You sound so lovely right now, so flustered and shy…”

You squirm. “I-it’s just what my listeners prefer…”

“Listeners?” Dorian’s eyes darken. They look, for all the world, like roiling storm clouds. A shiver runs down your back, the same shiver you get before rain comes.

“The only listener,” he leans in and nips harshly at your neck just over his hand, “you should be worried about… is me.”

You whimper, trembling in his grasp. Dorian bites you again, harder, just to feel you jerk in his hold and hear that pretty gasp of yours. Maybe it is better that he’ll be the only one to get to hear you like this. The thought of other people listening to you makes his skin crawl. Dorian kisses you, swallowing your sounds down greedily as he touches you through your clothes, and then slides his hand past your underwear.

He’s going to take you apart piece by piece and hear every sound you have to offer, and when you’re all fucked out and stupid in the studio, he’s going to save the recording of your time together on a flash drive and delete it from his computer. Of course you didn’t notice him turn the microphone back on, did you?

He’ll have to add a camera to the room for good measure next time…

[the-feral-enby]

For financial reasons and because the stress of not knowing if I would be okay without it: I went off T in 2023. I still identify with transmasc and use he/they pronouns. Went back on it i think in agust this year 2024.

Here is why I never want to do that again:

Cw// suicide ideation, periods, dysphroia, mentions of transphobia.

The body gets terrible periods. So bad if I'm not chugging pain pills that keep me Constipated, I cant get outta bed. Throwing up as well. It will knock the hormones so outta place I cannot think about ANYTHING else but suicide for weeks. This lasts for three weeks out of the month.

The body doesn't lose mucel but I didn't want to work out or do anything. I naturally have mucel mass. Over all my physical health got worse I ached and became sick more easily.

I tried to go on birth control. One of the leading factors of this decision was in case something happned. And I couldn't get my t. If I would be okay. And after the third month of bleeding onto a rag and a very concerned doctor visit I decided to go back on it. I'm devastated.

I have tried to stabilize myself for years. And T did what antidepressants, birthcontrol, and everything fucking thing you could imagine. Couldn't do.

I finnaly have something that WORKS. And I'm told I'm poisoning my body. I'm constantly worried about my future ability to get it.

I've been suffering for years. I know I haven't even gone into the dysphroia, it was hell. Thats because I think that people don't talk about the nondysphoric reasons to remain on hormones.

Testoerone is saving my life. After this its very clear to me that:

MY BODY IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE AN ESTROGEN DOMINANT SYSTEM.

I WILL DIE IF I DONT GET THIS HORMONE.

MY LIFE IS WORTH LIVING WHEN IM ON IT.

I've actually been able to be in my body. My brain is ACTUALLY now making memeories. I was robbed of my teenage years because of my uterus and abusive parents. There gone. I cannot remeber them. The pain was THAT BAD. My brain forced me to forget almost everything.

That isn't life. That isn't living. That is torture transphobes delight in. A reality they think I should just get over and accept. I'd like to make them trans and see if they could make it.

I think they wouldn't be able to survive one hour.

[rafesbunny]

Give us some drama baby cakes. Reader cheats on Rafe w JJ and Rafe finding out would be the shit sis🤞🤞

no big deal,right?…right?- r.c and jj 🎀

where r has a drunken mistake with an old friend and rafe finds out

cw: drinking, swearing, drugs, cheating, allusions to sex

rafe was away for business again and instead of moping around you decided to have a little fun. it had been while since you had gone out without rafe constantly looming over you shoulder and scaring off any guy who would even look in the general direction of you. don’t get me wrong you loved rafe, how couldnt you? he provided for you, financially but also emotionally. rafe wasn’t the big bad guy everyone saw him as, at home when it was just the two of you, he was sweet, doting and constantly reassuring you that you were the only one for him. some saw his protectiveness over you as suffocating but you knew what it was. true love. still that doesn’t mean you don’t want to go out without your boyfriend having a dominating arm around your shoulders the whole night. now he was away, you saw this as the perfect opportunity to do just that. you was wearing a short, white, ruffled mini skirt with a gorgeous baby pink halter neck that showed off your boobs perfectly, finished off with some white sandals and some of the finest jewellery you owned. you heard through the grapevine that there was going to be a party down at the boneyard. and where there were free drinks, there you would be.

you stood around awkward with a plastic cup full of beer in your hands, normally rafe would parade you around showing you off to all his friends and you would be able to make small talk easily with them. but with no rafe to introduce you to people, you were starting to feel kind of lonely. you made your way over to sit on a log near the fire, hoping that people would see you were alone and make conversation with you. as you circled the rim of your cup with your freshly done nails, someone sat next to and said, “what’s a pretty girl like you doing alone?” usually you would be disgusted with some boy saying something like this to you but as you turn to say some remark back, you’re face to face with a familiar blonde. “jj!” you exclaimed, bringing him into a hug, happy to have found a friend. well not really a friend anymore.

you used to be a pogue before your dads business finally took off and the kook prince claimed you as his. you used to get up to mischief with jj, pope, john b and kie. but especially with jj. you hadn’t put labels on anything and the others didn’t know but whenever either of you got needy or had a dry spell, you and jj would hook up. it was purely, no strings attached and it worked for the both of you until rafe made you promise to stay away from, in his words, “those dirty pogues” and being the good dutiful girlfriend you are, you obeyed. you cut off all contact with your friends, not messaging them, well occasionally messaging kie when she dm’ed you every now and then to ask how you’re doing. they didn’t resent you for it, but it made their hatred for rafe only increase. but you knew they always had open arms for whenever you wanted to come back.

“how have you been?” you asked, desperate to catch up with your best friend. throughout the night, you and jj caught up and he brought you over to the others, them all bringing you into a massive bear hug and making you tell them all you have been up to recently. as the night progressed and you got even more drunk, pope and kie had gone off in their own conversation and jj had gone off to talk to some girl from the island, proper jj style. you felt so happy to finally be back with your friends, the people you truly felt comfortable around. rafe made you hang out with topper and kelce, you thought they were nice and they welcomed you into their friend group quickly but it was never the same as hanging out with pogues. your found family. feeling reminiscent, you stared off into distance watching waves lap onto the shore gently. john b being the caring person he is noticed and wrapped his arm around your shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze, “what’s on your mind pup?” he asked. you didn’t want to tell him about how you feel with rafe and his friends and that you don’t feel yourself around them because you knew how the pogues felt about the kooks, and if you told john b now you would never hear the end of it. how rafe is too controlling. how you shouldn’t have to cut off all your friends just because some stupid boy told you. how rafe made your life a living hell for the majority of it and now he’s suddenly in love with you. so instead you decided to say, “yeah could really do with a joint right now” which wasn’t the biggest lie ever, rafe had made you quit all that saying it would fuck up your body, yet every night he would get through a little white baggy. john b reminded you that you knew where they kept a stash in the twinkie and that you’re always welcome to help yourself to some.

making your way to the twinkie, you couldn’t tell if it was the seventh vodka cranberry you had or just from trying to walk on the uneven sand in your sandals but you were stumbling over your own feet and your head was spinning. you were sitting in the twinkie rolling a joint when the door slid open and the blonde from earlier slipped into the free space next to you, “care to share, m’ lady?” he asked as you lit it up taking the first drag passing it to him as you exhaled, “of corse, fine sir” god had you missed the way the banter would flow so easily between you and jj and your friends, it seemed that around rafes friends you were always carefully deciding what to say not wanting to offend any of them or create a scene or embarrass rafe. however you couldn’t deny how tense the atmosphere got as he sat closer to you. what could go wrong having ex friends with benefits in a close, remote space? its no big deal, right?… right?taking the last drag of the blunt, you asked with heavy eyes, “so what happened to the lucky lady you were with earlier?he just dismissed it by shrugging his shoulders. but you persisted, “no seriously, what happened jj? are girls finally seeing you for the playboy you are? not falling for your tricks anymore” you teased letting out a little giggle. “acting as if you didn’t fall for them” he attempted to joke but it came out more serious and spiteful. you stopped laughing and looked to the floor of the van, “come on jj, that was a long time ago, i’m with rafe now.” sensing the tense atmosphere you tried to change the conversation but jj interrupted you. he leaned closer to you, foreheads nearly touching, exchanging oxygen, “don’t you miss this pooch, me and you? the fun we had?” you looked away from him but he grabbed your jaw and forced you back into the original position you were in, face to face, “answer me.” as quite as a mouse you repeated, “i’m with rafe now” you didn’t want to admit you had miss the little rendezvous you had with jj, you know it’s different the situationship with jj and the relationship with rafe. but during the middle of the night, you couldn’t help but miss how well jj knew your body and afterwards could go back to being best friends. with rafe you couldn’t even crack a joke without it turning into a full blown argument nine out of ten times. jj just rolled his eyes at your response, pushing away from you, “fuck rafe. come on baby, you and me one more night” and before you knew it, you craved, you like to think it was the alcohol or weed in your system, or maybe you really did just miss jjs touch, but you lunged forward locking your lips with jjs plush pink ones. you straddled his lap as you groaned at the euphoric feeling of him kissing down your neck. “take these off for me baby girl” he plucked at the straps of your top and you seductively dropped it to the floor. jj groaned “fuck, you don’t know what you to do me cupcake” and went back to his assault on your neck moving down to your boobs. the windows of the twinkie started to steam up as you and jj went further with you little adventure.

coming down down from your high, jj never failed to get you to, you got hit with regret. you shot up and started chucking your clothes back on and running your hairs through your hair trying to get rid of any indication of what just happened. “jj this was a bad bad idea. promise me you will never speak to anyone about this, please? this should’ve never happened, i love rafe” but jj just scoffed “sure, you ‘love’ him” you didn’t find jj funny and you snapped back “jj please! you don’t know shit. just promise me you won’t tell anyone about this” “okay, yeah, sure whatever. i promise” he held out his pinky finger mockingly but you didn’t accept and you just rushed out of the twinkie.

youd probably only been walking for a total of ten seconds when topper approached you, “yo girl, surprised to see you here!” he exclaimed clearly drunk, “thought rafe was away?” he asked slightly glancing back to the twinkie with windows still fogged up. fuck. your head ran with a million thoughts. does he know what just happened? did he see you go in with jj? who else saw? will he tell rafe? has he already told rafe? not wanting to raise further suspicion you tried your best to keep it cool, “yeah he is, thought i’d still go out have some fun though, it’s a bit boring here. i don’t know anyone” hopefully he would be convinced and forget about what he saw. “well you have me now, know rafe would kill me if he knew i let his girl be alone while drunk” for the rest of the night you spent it with topper and his other mates, feeling a lot better because you were now sure topper doesn’t know what went down and maybe the two other drinks helped as well. top called you two an uber and let you sleep at his while he slept on the couch, having piece of mind you were safe and knowing how your parents could be when you get too drunk. the next morning you made you and him breakfast but classic topper he was still sound asleep, so you wrote out a little note “thank you top, see you at the country club with rafe today” you ate your meal and made your way back to tannyhill, it was only a ten minute walk so it didn’t take long at all.

when you got back home you showered off your hangover and started to doll yourself up. rafe would be home in a few hours and you wanted to be the perfect girlfriend for when he arrived. in your mind, what happened with jj was still replaying and you felt heavy with guilt. but rafe would never have to know and it would all be fine. while telling yourself this over and over again, you blow dried and curled your hair, lotioned your whole body, applied the perfect amount of makeup and put back on the necklace with the ‘r’ pendent on. you knew rafe wouldn’t be able to resist you when he got back in.

as he stepped through the door and dropped his bags, you leapt into his arms squealing, “rafey!” you expected him to litter kisses all over your face and tell you how you’re looking like an angel, but all he done was place a half-hearted kiss on the side of your head, placed you to the side and muttered, “ ‘m tired, gotta do more work” and made his way to his office. you followed him while whining, “but you’ve been away for so long” dragging out the “so”. usually rafe would fall into your siren trap but today he snapped, he turned around, towering over you, “stop bein’ a fucking brat. told you i’ve got work to do” you froze. why was he acting like this? tears threatened to spill from your eyes, your lip quivered and you slipped into your bedroom. rafe had never not payed you attention like he’s doing right now, what’s got into him? you passed it off as him just being stressed out from work and the long flight, but he didn’t even end up inviting you to the country club with him. you felt left out and neglected that he didn’t bring you with him, even if you did complain the whole time about being bored. you felt as if he didn’t want you around at all. that night, you two laid in bed and he let you cling to his arm as you watched a tv show, but before even warning you he abruptly turned onto his side and turned off the light, you were left there speechless, you couldn’t believe his behaviour today.

what really pushed you over the edge was when you went downstairs about to head out for lunch with your girls and rafes deep voice muttered, “who you dressing up like a slut for now?” before turning around you rolled your eyes knowing that if rafe saw that he would lose his shit. you thought you were lost for words before you turned around but as you spun on your heel, you were met with buzz cut rafe. “what?” you were in disbelief from his comment and his new hair, “rafe your hair?” he just scoffed, as if you were the one in the wrong here! “don’t act stupid now princess? who are you meeting?” your eyes were wide with shock, you couldn’t focus on his questions with this new look on him, “rafe why didn’t you tell me you were gonna cut your hair?” he menacingly stepped closer to you until your back was pressed against the kitchen island, “i’m not gonna ask again, where are you going?” your heart dropped with realisation. oh. my. god. did he know about jj? is this what this is about. is this why he’s been acting off with you since he got home? but perhaps he didn’t know. maybe he just has a bad deal at work when he was away and he’s still tense. so you acted innocent, “baby i don’t know what you’re on about, jus’ wanna know why you cut your hair?” your feigned innocent weeped out of you, giving him those deer eyes he couldn’t resist. but just like you he didn’t back down either, “you know exactly what i’m on about” he leaned into you. “baby i really do-” you tried to get another word in but he took a step back and roared, “you know exactly what i’m talking about!” you were scared and tears rolled down your blushed cheeks, you were scared of rafes behaviour and the fear of him catching you out on your little secret. “topper told me everything. how he saw you and your little pogue boyfriend sneak into a dirty van and how you came out later all flushed” you wanted to be sick, rafe was never meant to find out, you were sure topper didn’t see. how could you be so careless. much calmer now after seeing your glossy eyes rafe asked, “i thought i told you to stay away from them?” you let out a heavy sob and clung yourself to him, wrapping your arms around his waist, “i’m so sorry rafey… i was bored without you and i wanted to- to go out and i went to a party… and i had too many drinks and - and jj found me and were started talking and he convinced me it was a good idea- i saw topper after and i didn’t think he saw anything… i swear, swear i was gonna tell you- i’m so sorry” you let it all out. rafe wrapped his arms around you embracing you in a hug. he lightly smirked knowing those pogues haven’t got anything on him and knowing you’ll never leave him and find anyone better than him. he whispered into your hair, while devising a plan on how to get back on jj, “it’s okay baby, gonna make it up to me yeah?” you gently nodded your head against his chest letting out a final sniffle.

[magsinhiding]

Highlights from my week (cw being sad and general malaise about the state of the world)

Just trying every single fucking moment to pay just enough attention to all the election news to be updated but not so much that the anger and despair and hatred melts my face off, and failing every single time.

Oscar is so cuddly right now! I love him.

Being pregnant right now is mostly terrible. I’m waiting on testing and basically in a limbo holding pattern where I cannot plan anything. While also being so deeply terrified about what the next year looks like for reproductive health and wondering very seriously every day if I’m putting my life at risk.

I got to see my friend and her two month old baby and that was really lovely and reaffirmed my belief in humanity.

I got to see a funk show in Brooklyn! (Technically last week but I’m counting it).

The latest news from my job is that the only way to keep up with the current and future energy demands (generative AI being one huge part) is nuclear power. So that’s something.

Americans, myself included, do not realize how much we dominate the world in so many ways: culturally, politically, financially, etc etc etc. Everyone else is looking at the ocean and we’re swimming in it.

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes Episode 10 - Debt, Part 1

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: coercion; coercion via finance; mention of financial difficulties; dubcon; power imbalance; implied age gap; depiction of fellatio

Author's Note: This challenge is getting tougher as time goes by, so I'll reiterate, I'm accepting basically any good ideas to go on the inspo moodboard. If you have any kinks you'd like me to explore or scenarios you'd like to see, send a DM or an ask!

#########################################

Nobody wants to be in this situation. It felt like every time things were starting to come together you'd get another letter saying you owed another thousand pounds here or there. You used to think that ten grand would fix all your problems, you'd pay everything off and live free at long last.

When the letter came through your door, it seemed too good to be true. A benefactor asking for 3 tasks in exchange for £25k - enough to clear your debt, and have an awful lot left over. 

You read the fine print carefully. You wouldn't be asked to do anything illegal, or take the fall for anything, nor would you be asked to pay anything back at all, ever. The downside? You wouldn't get this offer again, and if you refused any of the tasks given to you, or failed a task, you wouldn't get anything at all. 

Why this letter came through your door, or how they knew how much you needed this money, you didn't know. There was an address on the other side of the letter, an office in the finance district of the city, and an instruction to come alone.

You weren't stupid. You told your friends you were going to a job interview, and gave the address. You made sure that if anything happened then people would know you're missing within a couple of hours, tops. All that preparation didn't stop the butterflies in your stomach as you got to the skyscraper and texted your group chat.

You swallowed your worry, and walked into the lobby, people in suits and dresses walking here and there. The receptionist gave you directions to the lifts and where you'd need to go when you got to your floor. Simple enough. 

It was an unassuming office, you knocked.

"Come in" the voice was like caramel, smooth and unhurried.

You entered, grasping the letter.

The office was larger than you expected, and you were expecting a lot, considering. A dark wooden desk dominated the floor, huge bookshelves on either wall, and the smell of antique paper in the air.

"Ah, good afternoon!" That voice again, you turned to see a middle-aged wolfman in a brown suit, his fur spilling over the collar and half-moon glasses on his muzzle "I am professor Blaidd, with the institute for debt studies. I'm conducting research on the effects of debt on inhibition. I have some consent forms for you, presuming that's why you're here?"

He took the letter off you, skimmed it, and handed you back a sheaf of papers. "Just give that a look over then give it a sign"

Most of the form was normal enough: assurances you'd be anonymous, data protection legislation, reminders that you are allowed to withdraw at any time. You skimmed it, more to make sure that when you got your pay it'd really be as string-free as advertised. By the time you finished and signed, Blaidd was already sat behind his desk, reading through documents and typing on his computer.

You handed the papers back to Blaidd. He filed them away in his desk draw and grinned at you, a big, toothy grin.

Your blood ran cold, some genetic memory of wolves making that kind of face to humans surfacing and filling you with dread. 

"Good, I assume you've got a few hours, yes? At least until this afternoon?" 

You nodded

"Excellent!" He beamed at you "In that case we can start the first task." His grin dropped "Get under the desk"

You stared at him

"Quickly now! Under the desk, on your knees"

You came around the desk and almost screamed. He wasn't wearing pants

"One of two things is about to happen: You're getting under this desk, or you're getting nothing"

You paused. Steeled yourself. Crawled under the desk.

"Good girl." Blaidd stroked your hair "Now, I've got some work to do. We'll go until about 12, then we can get some lunch. My treat"

You nodded, not sure if lunch was part of the task. 

Blaidd started work, you stayed under the desk, half-crouching, his paws occasionally reaching out and stroking you. It was a few minutes before you noticed his sheath moving, the tip of his cock poking out, vibrant red against the salt-and-pepper fur. The more you stared at it, the more it pushed out, revealing more and more as it began to leak "It's not going to suck itself"

You almost sniggered at that line, Blaidd clearly wasn't used to this. You shrugged, 25 grand for a few blowjobs? You've certainly done more for less

You approached his swelling cock, and teased the knot free from his sheath, he sighed with release and his balls tightened a little as you held his shaft in your hand. He was remarkably well-endowed, you could fit both hands on his cock and still have space left over "How do you want it?" You asked, looking up and meeting his gaze

"Nice and slow, there's no rush"

You took the head of his cock in your mouth, tasting the salty-sweet fluid oozing out of it. Blaidd grunted as you gently licked and suckled the tip, working his length with one hand and his balls with another.

You kept on going, the fluid coming faster as Blaidd's grunts got more and more desperate. He put his hand on the back of your head and pushed you down, filling your mouth with his cock and languidly fucking your face. Your hand strayed under your waistband, rubbing small circles on your clit as you relished the cock pushing into your mouth. 

Blaidd pushed you further down. You gagged as his knot reached your lips. "It's nearly twelve, how about we finish up here"

He was fucking you harder now, pushing down into your throat as you increased the pace. You could feel a hot flush coming over you as you approached your orgasm. You could tell he was close too, his pre was getting thicker as he clutched your hair tighter. You came almost at the same time. The taste of his cum filling your throat as he forced himself deep into you pushing you over the edge. You moaned around his cock, swallowing everything he pumped into your mouth. He softened and pulled out, giving your hair one last stroke as he did "That was great. You did great." He got up and started to dress, offering you a glass of whiskey "You don't have to if you don't want, and lunch isn't part of the task either, but I'd like to go over today's test with you"

You accepted the drink

That money was as good as yours 

#########################################

Post script: I was intending for this to be much meaner than it turned out, but Professor Blaidd wound up being a bit more doddering than devious in my head, so I leave the question up to you, my viewing public:

[gabessquishytum]

Finsub sugar daddy × findom sugar baby dreamling. Dealer's choice on who's who.

(If Dream's the sugar baby he's an absolute brat and finds it fun to fluster Hob in public by calling him daddy. If Hob's the sugar baby he's barely a findom he just likes pretending to be in control and Dream likes buying him pretty things.)

I quite like the concept of findom Dream who is actually a blue blooded little aristocrat - he doesn't need a penny of Hob’s money, he just really enjoys making him pay for everything. And of course, because Hob is so into it, he's pathetically grateful that his beloved sugar baby allows him to spend his money on him. Hob is hardly a millionaire, and he hates those months where he has to choose between his rent and a pretty presents for Dream :((( and Dream is such a meanie, he won't allow Hob to bankrupt himself :(((

Hob just loves saving up his pennies and finally, finally taking Dream to some designer store to pick out a diamond bracelet or new pair of shoes. What a pleasure for him to watch Dream appreciate his present... Hob can't help himself, he has to get himself off in the parking garage. He's lucky that Dream is so patient with him :)))

[ciaran]

cw: foucault, discussions of underage sex, fandom

happened to read foucault's essay on erotics, and the whole schema of greek pederasty and its complications, concerns, discourses, what have you. it's very interesting and not just bc the greeks hated the power of the prostate.

a lot of the latter part of the essay talks about how the greeks felt, more or less, that even though it was socially acceptable for a man to fuck a boy, the boy couldn't enjoy it, and if he enjoyed it too much and sought it out then his future reputation was at stake/ruined already + the man had to give the boy gifts (financial gifts being frowned upon because they prostituted the boy; gifts of guidance, teaching, and status being more acceptable and desirable) in order to earn his favor in order to fuck him and the boy could neither give in too easily nor hold out for too long. but it wasn't a mutually pleasurable act, it was a given to the older lover when he was considered to have earned it and it was a transient, age-based position; an adult male free citizen who was known to bottom for pleasure was considered shameful and incapable of leading. but it was okay to want boys, to desire beauty, to think of them as attractive, as long as one did not take from them by force or dishonor them.

the interesting thing to me about this is the way it intersects and entwines with modern fandom's notions of gay sex. obviously, fandom loves gay sex and there's no doubt about that. the thing is that in my experience, most fandom these days heavily centers bottoms and bottom subjectivity; to a lesser extent submissive subjectivity. it is ambivalent in most cases about top interiority and entirely uninterested in dominants except as facilitators of pleasure, pain, or catharsis for the sub/bottom.

of course, it's unfair to generalize and many people find their tastes departing from that described here for many reasons. nevertheless, it seems to me to be broadly true that in a group of people broadly motivated by exploring m/m intimacy, there isn't that much about tops: about wanting to top or dom, about love that expresses itself via control, guidance, and mastery over the beloved, about actively seeking out and thrilling in having power over another person. when these things do show up, they're frequently coded as abusive or outright only exist in abusive characters, which makes sense to a degree because these traits can also manifest in abusive ways.

but submissives and bottoms can also be abusive while fully and unequivocally being subs / bottoms, and most people are really uninterested in exploring that. this makes sense; nobody wants to imagine a beloved character as abusive, and very few people identify such types of predation in villainous characters, because villainy is the domain of the controlling, the sadistic, the power-seeking - it is never the domain of the masochist, the one whose power lies in passivity, who can make things happen without asking for them to happen, simply by wanting and providing themselves as an incentive.

and again, yes, associating bottom and submitting w passivity is problematic but works for our purposes because the essay i'm referring to also does the same thing. the link is not a permanent fixture so much as an association that people often lean into and that therefore shows up in the conversation.

all of this is to say that i don't think that fandom, which is dominated by afabs and trans people and rather fewer cis men, is so interested in bottoms as the subject of pleasure.

while the associative link between submitting, bottoming, passivity, and femininity is frequently complicated (queered, even) by these same demographics, and while many members of them have different relationships to these associations, the links persist for a reason; they're extant in society and they preoccupy us sexually. but i do think that there's a reason why the greeks considered bottoming and enjoying the act of bottoming nearly shameful even though cis gay penetrative sexual activity basically necessitates someone bottoming at all times...and i think that that reason is the other side of the coin of why modern queer fandom is broadly disengaged from topping as an enjoyable and desirable activity for their favorite characters even though they would verbally acknowledge that good sex should be mutually pleasurable due to modern sexual ethics.

in both cases, i think it's about shame. the greeks considered bottoming shameful because they thought a lot about honor and status and leadership, and the roles that a free citizen with good qualities could hope to occupy in the governance of the city, and they felt like a man who enjoyed submitting sexually (a man who enjoyed being the object of another's pleasure) could not be trusted to not submit in other senses as well even if the alternative was better for him and for those he had power over. but the sexual ethics of fandom - which is very queer, full of afabs, full of trans people - consider topping shameful because we think about status and leadership and power from the other direction, as inherently untrustworthy and corrupt, and we dislike people who seek out power consciously and cultivate favors in order to gain that power. it's shameful to want too much and take too much, to have control over other people and be comfortable with that, it's shameful to refuse to be vulnerable in the way that bottoming demands vulnerability (because topping, by implication, has no vulnerability attached).

that's one explanation and i don't wholly buy it. my other explanation would be interest: the greeks were concerned with a social life that revolved in no insignificant part around the power they expected to wield as free citizens, and therefore they were very anxious about the maintenance of their own power and they were concerned by the possible loss of power for the young men they desired. fandom, on the other hand, is concerned with an intimate life that centers the emotions and relationships of its characters, and therefore is interested in anything that brings those emotions to the forefront: again, vulnerability and weakness and pain and pleasure.

the third and most simple explanation is that the difference is anatomical: cis men are more likely to think bottoming is shameful because the primary instrument and act of pleasure for them centers around penetration, and being accessory to someone else's pleasure and enjoying it is shameful. women are more likely to think that topping is shameful because their primary acts of pleasure are ones of receiving, and rather than being accessory to someone else's pleasure they inhabit a paradigm where reception is indulgent, decadent, being spoiled and taking without giving. even if you think of topping as giving and bottoming as taking, taking is construed as selfish and giving is construed as generous. so, someone's favorite character bottoming is about that character getting to be selfish.

i don't like this explanation because it resorts to gender essentialism, and i really don't like any of these explanations and i'm dubious about the entire analogy i'm drawing, but hey. my blog, my long meandering posts that make no point at all. if u have thoughts feel free to send me an ask or a dm or something, this topic is very interesting to me.

[lucawrites11]

You know what, I hadn't really thought about them having sex for the first time after giving birth and I also hadn't listened to anything Rose&Rosie have done for a while, I just sometimes see their posts or stories on instagram but it is an interesting topic! That being said, the little blurb you just posted is such a sweet display of love between them with the awkwardness and all. I'm sorry people were weird about this before, this was just so so sweet!

thank you so much for this, it means a lot - i think sex is something beyond fulfilling a desire in a lot of moments, it's a point of connection that a lot of couples and individuals need to feel fully loved (but not everyone) i don't write it much because people are a bit weird but the power of anonymity gives people the confidence to do that - i got of lightly, a lot of writers on here have had it a lot worse and i think readers do need to be careful a lot because it does discourage writers from writing smut sometimes

also a lot people don't think about the first time you have sex after birth an that because of a really unique form of sexism that women in heterosexual relationships often face and have more often faced.

cw: discussions under the cut will include sexism, abuse, rape, medical malpractice, slavery and racism

pregnancy for the longest time has the an experience exclusive to those in a heterosexual relationship therefore heterosexuality has shaped the discussions we have around birth. sex after birth and birth as a whole has predominantly been something focused on men, men's pleasure, men's ability to carry on the bloodline, men in the medical system, men's experiences of pain and comfort, male convience etc. etc.

however, when it comes to men's pleasure and the experience of sex after birth, the most obvious example of this aggressive focus on men is the husband stitch. it is defined as a medically unnecessary and potentially harmful surgical procedure in which one or more additional sutures than necessary are used to repair a woman's perineum after it has been torn or cut during childbirth

it is VERY common for vaginal tears in childbirth and this was a practice invented by men when men dominated the healthcare system. some women report it still happening to them to this day. it's horrific. why do they do it though? despite it causing women so much pain? well, it makes the better sex toys for men

i know that's derogatory but it's also a fact because the way in which this system has been constructed to treat women is as objects, sex toys for male sexual desires with no sexual desires and feelings of their own and their only useful power to be the power to care for and produce children for men

so sex after birth was often not a choice, women felt pressured into it even if they gave their consent. pregnancy was something of marriage and in many countries and up until recently in most countries, martial rape has been and is fully legal. therefore, women had no power to say no and object even when in pain because they just tore their FUCKING VAGINA OPEN. this is all worsened by the fact in most situations ESPECIALLY after having a child, they are financially vulnerable, can't get a job and can't leave the marriage. and remember, they're just an object so a man often doesn't give a flying fuck if they feel pain, whether that's a doctor, their partner. NO ONE LISTENS

and it's been historically a hundred times worse for people of colour because while all of the above has happened to every women for centuries (women only give birth on their back despite it being the most painful position because a king a few centuries ago was a honry fuck), women of colour, especially black women, had so much more to contend with. they were expected to have children that were born enslaved so they can wet nurse for the families that own them and then they were used to fulfil a man's sexual desires when the wife wasn't doing enough and the children that they had as a consequence were treated often much worse for being interracial and merely existing despite the man being the reason they fucking existed in the first place. nowadays, the pain of people of colour is dismissed more than their white counterparts, doctors aren't trained to see the signs of illness in them

overall, this has created a societal outlook when women aren't visible in birth, the babies are and sex after birth is an expectation whether that's to continue to reproduce or to fulfil a man's sexual desires. it's not considered as part of the journey of a women's body recovering from the trauma of birth because men and the patriarchal society they have created as a whole fails to recognise birth as a traumatic event which it is for the body. society then goes one step further and SHAMES women for highlighting that it is traumatic. it means that as a whole, we fail to consider sex after birth. women don't feel they have the voice to talk about it and men don't consider it something that needs to be talked about because it isn't a problem but in reality, it's often pain

yeah, i have a lot of feelings about this. i am a history and politics student and i did a course looking at the history of maternal medicine recently and every time it makes me want to scream. that's the reason i first alluded to this, to try and bring awareness to an important thing that society fails to talk about

[breakyourrxles]

❥déjà rêvé (m)

↳ When your best friend marries her stuffy, stuck-up, long-time boyfriend, you swallow your feelings and put your reservations aside to support her...

...and when your erotic imagination takes hold of you one night in relation to him, you’re thankful for the fact that your friend is able to laugh it off.

Unfortunately, you’re not able to let it go as easily.

kim doyoung x fem!reader — enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, gratuitous sexual content, porn with plot [17.7k wc] cws: open relationship, alcohol consumption, social smoking. sexual content: bdsm-heavy!! dominant doyoung, submissive reader, unprotected penetrative sex (v+a), oral sex (m+f), gratuitous dirty talk/degradation/humiliation, cum play/facials/wet&messy, deep throating, safe word usage, ravishment play, infidelity play, spit play, doyoung has a big dick and fucks like a pornstar.

Seven years.

 Watching as your best friend now sat in glee as hired hair and makeup help dart around her to make sure that every strand, every eyelash be perfectly in place for her big day, you realize that now, after so long, it's difficult to even really recall the first few times that she started bringing him around. You remember the first night she mentioned him — a careful slide of a photo of him into the group chat, followed by the usual 'he looks better in person' commentary — although hilariously unnecessary given that the man stunning even back then.

You did, however, wish that his looks had translated more into his personality.

Unfortunately, it was no mystery the way that you and Doyoung did not get on. Never culminating into blow-out fights, or a need to pick sides, or even the ruining of an evening or vacation: But it was there. Petty jabs and comments slung about, backhanded slips of the tongue coming from either side at a moments notice — something that, earlier on, came to be of much contention between you, Mina, and her now husband-to-be. Over time, however, with the relationship growing, evolving, and coming to terms with the fact that this man most likely to remain in your life for as long as Mina would be, you decide on doing the only thing that a good, supportive, friend can do in such circumstances.

After all, you weren't the one marrying him, and thank fuck for that.

  "How do I look?"

Nearly tear-filled eyes looking up at you through the reflection of the mirror as you stand behind your best friend of a decade and more, you offer a tight-lipped smile back to her — in an effort to keep it together, really, you'd rather not cry your makeup off, as well.

"You look amazing, he's lucky," you begin genuinely before switching to a more playful tone. "And he better remember that, because I'll be watching."

With a sway of her hand, Mina shoos you away equally playfully and laughing through the fact that she was surely just about to start crying. "This long and you guys are still like this, are you ever going to get over it?"

"Is he ever going to stop being a pretentious douche? Because all signs point to 'no.'"

Cocking her head as if to say 'give me a break,' your bestie sighs audibly at the much anticipated response from you in regards to the matter.

"He's a good man."

You nod. "I know. He's good to you and, well — good enough to me, so I'll allow it, I suppose."

Would you choose to spend time with Doyoung if not for Mina; if not for the fact that he be obviously and irrevocably in love with her and treat her as such every moment of everyday? No.

But the rest of it sort of makes up for that fact.

One of the perks of having Kim Doyoung around is the money.

Of course, Mina doing well enough for herself that she need not rest on the laurels of a man, but marrying this one be far from a bad choice as far as financials go. A hard worker all through high school and college and landing a fancy, high-paying career gig straight out — only a few weeks after the wedding, the two bought a house together — an expensive, modern home a little bit on the outskirts of the city but not too far away as to make it inconvenient, glass paneling, black marble, and perfectly shined platinum stainless steel; the first time entering it, you can't help but think how it's precisely what one would expect upon being informed of the kind of money and stature that Doyoung has.

'New money,' they call it, and with it comes a certain expectation of being a prick, apparently.

The positives of all of this, of course, include that the man work long hours, and thus, you're free to be over without having to see much of him.

And thank God for that.

 "Drink?"

Already reaching up and into one of the white and glass cupboards just above as she calls out the question, you answer back a simple "sure" as she continues bringing down two, large, red wine glasses that you're almost certain cost far more than any reasonable person would pay for cups.

"Doie brought these back from Portugal the last time he went on business, apparently they're one of a kind, handmade."

"I swear to God every time you call him that I get the most intense case of sudden indigestion. No relation, though. I'm sure."

The same playfully annoyed cock of her head that you're used to seeing every time the man comes up into conversation, the both of you chuckle as she sets two glasses down onto perfectly shined marble countertops in front of you.

"There's like, thirty bottles of wine down here and I don't know what's fancy or not," Mina begins, already squatting down in front of the wine storage just beneath (and of course, something that Doyoung personally had built into the kitchen during renovations). Popping back up and grabbing her phone from across the shining table, "Let me ask him."

Only a few seconds of the phone ringing, the line is answered and you hear that all too familiar and also irritating voice come through. "On a work call, what's up, babe?"

You roll your eyes, it's nearly automatic. Mina slaps the marble in front of you like she's trying to dissuade a cat from something.

"We want to open a bottle of wine but I don't know what we can and can't have, so give me a name of something, quick."

"You can have anything you want," The man on the other end coos back. You sort of wish this conversation wasn't happening on speaker phone.

Rolling her eyes, Mina chuckles back at him. "You said some of these bottles are like, three hundred dollars."

"And? Let me know how it is, gotta-go-love-you-bye—" Doyoung sing-song's into the phone before cutting the line completely. You watch the way a grin takes your best friends face at the short but sweet conversation that has only just transpired and it reminds you that all things considered, and all personal feelings about the man aside, they're absolutely, remarkably in love with one another.

As if momentarily forgetting the fact that you're even there, in favor of daydreaming about her husband, Mina finally comes back down to the expensive kitchen with you. "He's so annoying."

"Yeah, I can tell that's totally how you feel about him right now," You respond with obvious sarcasm.

About an hour and a half later and two glasses of whatever accidentally expensive wine your friend has chosen, you're a little disappointed when you hear the familiar voice of The Husband coming down the stairs and slowly making his way into the kitchen.

Of course, and again: You don't hate him, but he always has some shit to say.

Finishing up a work call as he comes around the corner — gray sweatpants and a black, oversized sweatshirt with hair only a tiny bit disheveled and probably due to it being the end of the night for him finally, you watch intently as he leans against the large, stainless steel refrigerator — briefly making eye contact with you as he says goodbye to whatever late night client happens to be on the other end of the line.

With a heavy sigh, Doyoung outstretches his arms. "Finally, freedom."

"Until tomorrow—" Mina adds with a quick peck to his cheek as she hands him a glass of wine as well. The reminder unfortunate, wiping any joy from the mans features in an instant. "—Yes, until tomorrow."

Then, his eyes catch towards you. Bringing the rim of the glass to his lips, the words slip out just before he takes a sip. "And what about you? Do you work?"

Always something to say.

"I do!" You quickly quip back. "I work normal people hours, like most people do."

"I don't think hanging out with my wife is a job."

"Doie!" Mina huffs with a playful slap to his chest.

"I assure you, you don't have to be concerned about my working hours," you begin, taking another sip from your glass before setting it down onto the counter next to you. "At least I won't look seventy years old when I'm thirty, like some people."

"Ooh—" he plays along, eyes narrow as if you've almost got him on the losing side of the banter. "That may be true, but I'll still be rich, and I'll still have a sexy wife."

"Please spare me, I choose not to acknowledge that there is any sexual relationship between the two of you at any given moment in time."

Finishing off his glass and taking a step forward to set it down next to yours, he offers you a thin-lipped grin, as if accompanying it with his sympathies. "And I'm sure that's not a result of projection, at all. Anyway, have a good night, you two, I'm off to bed."

With a quick kiss to Mina and another tip of his head towards you, the man is off and back up the stairs.

Well enough out of earshot, your eyes shoot back to your friend. "Did he just imply I'm not getting fucked?"

She shrugs. "Are you?"

Scoff falling from your lips, you press the point of your index finger out and towards your bestie. "I was just out with that guy last week, remember?"

"And how did that go?"

"It was terrible, but that's not the point—" you answer dryly, as if it be the simplest thing in the world. "—The point is, I get dick, regardless of how questionable the quality may be."

Chuckling, Mina comes around to pick up the glasses and set them next to the sink. "I'll be sure to let him know, then."

"Please don't," You groan in response.

Long, thin, fingers wrapped around your wrist as you're quickly shuffled down the familiar, dimly lit hallway of their shared marital home before your back suddenly finds pressure against the cool wall — legs pulled apart to make room for his hips as you feel the all too familiar burn of being pried apart with not enough prep for such endeavors — enveloped suddenly by broad shoulders and a hard chest held firm against your own as you bite back the moan that threatens to echo down and against the walls, your fingers finding purchase in the fabric of such shoulders as they dig in to match the feeling of being taken so thoughtlessly, relentlessly.

"How do I feel?"

A rhetorical question of sorts, knowing that he can hear and feel the way you fall apart beneath him already and with such little effort on his end — one hand coming up between the wall and the back of your head to curl fingers into you hair and tug roughly on the strands as you hiss into a mouth just centimeters away but not quite touching your own. "God, how long have you wanted this?"

 Waking up in the morning, you don't recall many of the details — instead, living now with the irritating knowledge that you've had a sex dream about one man in particular that you wouldn't wish sex with onto your worst enemy.

Of course, it will pass — as things like this always do. It's just a dream, after all.

Right?

Wrong, regrettably.

Worse than having the dream itself, you think over the next few days, is the way that it simply won't leave you alone. Any moment of downtime in your thoughts now plagued by the memory of a certain best friends husband fucking you against the wall of their newlywed home — it's far from ideal, and for a plethora of reasons that don't necessarily need to be explained. And yet.

But, you know enough about Mina, and your friendship with her, that if you can confide in anyone about having a sex dream about their husband to get it off of your chest, it's her.

Sitting outside of a bougie cafe just down the street from Mina's work building as you wait for her to join you with legs crossed and a mimosa on the table in front of you, as you stare at the menu in an attempt to focus on what it is that you'll be ordering for lunch once your friend arrives, the words still find their way floating through your mind with no prompting, and a little bit too much ease.

 "God, how long have you wanted this?"

 "So long!" The familiar voice of your friend from just behind you pipes up and jars you from your thinking — and thank fuck for that, because any excuse not to be brought to that place is a good one, as far as you're concerned. "Took me so long to find parking here, I don't know why we always insist on coming to this place."

"Because it's central to both of us," you answer with a tone that says that this should be obvious. "Besides, you're always the one that wants to come here."

"What can I say, hot sandwiches here are amazing—" pausing the thought to flag down the wait staff, you place the menu down on the table and rub your eyes with the flat of your fingertips as her attention falls back to you. "—Do you know what you want to order? Wait, what's wrong with you?"

"Yes," you reply to the first question, only to hesitate on the second. "Nothing, tired. Work's been killing me."

"Aw, and Doie said that you don't work," She offers, a comforting tone that only offers the opposite with the addition of the pet name to her lover. Her husband.

"Can we not talk about that man?"

A questioning cock of her head and curiosity piqued, Mina smiles with narrowed eyes. "...Why? Did he say something else? You know, he's only joking—"

"No," you firmly cut her off with a wave of a hand as the waiter returns with a drink for her and an exasperated sigh from you. "He didn't say anything else. He's just...exhausting."

"You don't even know the half of it. I live with him," Mina cheerfully retorts as she takes her drink into hand.

 No, you don't even know the half of it.

 Allowing your friend to do a good bit of the rambling through lunch as you slowly make your way through your salad — you try to put it out of your mind just as much now as you have since that night — unfortunately, the very presence of the woman married to said man in question causing the thoughts to be just that much more at the forefront of your memory.

With a fork between teeth, Mina finally stills mid-sentence and glares at you through perfectly made up, long, eyelashes. "Alright, what the hell is up with you today?"

 Yes, you were busted, but if you were honest, you had every intention of telling her about it, anyway.

 With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you finish chewing through your lettuce before setting your own utensils down at the edge of the plate and dramatically falling back into your chair — a reluctant acceptance of defeat at the hands of your best friend. All perfectly pressed business suit and perfectly structured black hair that her ever so doting husband no doubt pays for to have her take care of.

This is so annoying.

"Well!?"

"Okay, okay, don't rush me, geez—" you cut her off with palms in the air. Allowing silence to once again fall between you — nothing more than the busy bustling of the street nearby and the other patrons of the restaurant around you — you sniffle sharply, now having accepted that this is a conversation that's definitely going to happen.

Her being upset, or angry, not something you're concerned about — rather, just the humiliation of having to admit it (and the way that it's lived in your mind ever since.)

"Have you ever — had a dream about someone else's partner?"

Visibly taken aback, and physically so as Mina jolts into her chair at the question, a chuckle falls from her lips as she just as quickly takes a sip from her tall glass again. "Are you kidding? I've banged Karina's man like, three times unconsciously."

The fast and honest reply has you nearly choking on the sip of drink you had mirrored her in taking.

"It's just a dream, it's not like we have any control over it. Why? Whose man dug you out?"

 Silence.

 Mina's eyes glued to your face as you bring your glass up to your lips again and pull your own line of vision as far from hers as you can manage without actually turning physically — you hate the way you can literally see as the knowledge finally dawns on her with how her teeth quickly begin to peer through the grin that plasters across her face.

"Stop—" she first says.

"Don't—" you respond just as quickly.

"—No way." She finishes with a gasp.

You immediately plant your face into the flat of your palms with an affirming groan.

And thus, your best friend does what anyone would do upon finding out that her friend had a sex dream about her husband: Let out the most annoying, boisterous witch-cackle that a single woman could possibly muster.

When her laughter finally dies down enough to manage in some breaths for an attempt at speaking, Mina takes another sip of her drink through tight lips that are quite evidently still trying to pull back the smile that she wants so badly to let pull across her features. "Well," she quietly begins. "How was it?"

"Really?"

"Just curious how fantasy matches up with reality, that's all."

Rolling your eyes at her curiosity, you can't help but make an attempt to pull the embarrassment from you, and onto the man in question. "I'm sure I was doing him the favor. It wasn't thirty seconds of missionary while he told me about finances so he should be thankful for that much."

Snorting through her nose, Mina's eyes drop down to her mostly-eaten sandwich before her. "Is that what you think it's like?"

"I simply do not think about it at all, actually."

"Evidently, that's not the case."

 With more silence coming between the two of you, now Mina is the one that cuts through it with an all too pointed, proverbial knife.

 "Do you want to fuck him?"

 Sputtering through more salad as the words enter your line of hearing, before you have a chance to answer, Mina amends the statement — as if she can read your mind. "Before you say 'no,' really think about it."

And so, you do. Quietly mulling over all of the possibilities, the thoughts that this bring to your mind — not limited to and especially the recollection of the dream — more than anything, it's a reminder that you don't actually even really like this man. You don't enjoy his company, and you don't particularly enjoy conversing with him. The purpose that Doyoung serve in your life be uniquely in relation to him being the perfect, most amazing husband to Mina.

And how this might be precisely how you ended up here to begin with.

But what this really brings to question is one very pointed, very particular thing:

"A-are you asking me if I want to have sex with your husband...with intention of granting me permission to do so?"

The woman across from you shrugs, calling the wait staff over again for another drink. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, one thing at a time. So, do you?"

Feeling a bit like a taboo, kinky carrot being dangled in front of your face — you know Mina well enough to know that she wouldn't be asking this in an attempt to set you up — to get upset with you, to drive a wedge between your friendship.

If she's asking, it's because she's genuinely curious, and has other such genuine intentions, as well.

Clearing your throat and blinking away the awkwardness in the fact that you're really about to answer this honestly: You could lie — pretend that it hasn't been stuck on your mind ever since, pretend that you haven't been fantasizing about him, and in a particularly low moment, cumming to the thought of him — but really, what good will that do you, now?

In fact, even just the conversation now bringing back the dull ache between your legs. Humiliating the power the subconscious can have over us.

"I mean," you quietly start with a shaky, unsure tone. "Yeah. Yes, I guess."

"I know, he's sexy, right? You wouldn't expect it but there's something about him—"

Your best friend regrettably far too accepting of this conversation topic.

"Look, it's not a big deal, I'm not like — dying for it," you cut her off suddenly, mostly in an attempt to deter the conversation from any more detail about that something about the man. "It's just like...in theory, you know, something about that angry, 'I don't like you, you don't like me' type of arrangement makes for a good fantasy but of course, it's just that."

"Right," she snorts again and into the glass pressed to her mouth. "Just that."

 Ten minutes later and with the check for lunch paid by the credit card of a particular husband, with Mina hurrying to gather her things on account of being late back to work — she hugs you quickly with one arm slung around you before rushing off the other way — but not before turning just as suddenly and whispering a little too loudly for your comfort given the people around.

"Look, obviously I can't make him fuck you, but I'll run it by him. I'll let you know. Cheers, babe!"

Great.

"Babe, come to bed!"

Tone whiny and pleading as she kicks her feet from beneath the covers of their shared, King sized bed, Mina groans into the pillow expectantly in anticipation of her husband joining her for a cuddle and a conversation.

Although, mostly the conversation, this time.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Doyoung chimes back from their white and gold accented bedroom, toothbrush shoved into his mouth as he peeks his head out through the doorway just before spitting into the sink. "Pushy, aren't you?"

"One of the many things you love about me."

As he saunters towards the side of the bed, all too aware of his surroundings and even more than that, the mischievous grin pulled across the lips of his beloved wife — eyes narrowing with suspicion, he slows his movements just ever so slightly before finally crawling into bed next to her and meeting beneath the sheets. "Why do I have a feeling you're not just looking to snuggle up with your wonderful husband, tonight?"

"Aw, Doie, don't be like that—" Mina whines, wrapping her arms around his and pulling her body against his as he flips through channels on the television against the wall in front of them. "—I had lunch with my bestie today."

Glancing out of his peripheral towards her, Doyoung hums inquisitively, as if unsure of what this has to do with him but anticipating that he's going to find out. "That's good. How is she?"

"She's good," every word coming out like she's singing a song — one made up of no-good and trouble — charming in her tone. "Although, she's had a lot on her mind, lately — so to say."

Pausing, the man shifts just slightly in place as he finally settles on a channel and sets the remote control down between the two of them. "And why do I have a bad feeling about what that means?"

Lips gently beginning to decorate the exposed skin of his shoulder and arm, Mina smiles into them just before the words finally leave her. "She had a dream about you."

"Okay?"

Slow on the pick-up.

This time, she delivers the information a bit more pointedly. "She had a dream about you."

"Oh," he says quietly at first, until the fact of the matter finally, truly, dawns on him. "Oh."

A squint and a frown now, Doyoung's head turns quickly towards his wife.

"And she told you this?"

Mina nods.

"You both are a little too close."

"Well?" She finally offers up the question at hand, lips still innocently peppering across her lovers skin. "What do you think?"

"Are you asking me if I want to fuck your best friend? How would this work, anyway? It's not as if we even get on all that well—"

"I think that's part of it for her."

"—Kinky minx."

Slowly pulling from Doyoung and groaning into a long stretch of her limbs as if settling in for slumber, she smiles again. "It wouldn't be the first time, anyways."

"Yeah, but never friends," he says, rubbing his palms over his face as if a little taken aback by the topic of conversation as a whole. "—I mean, I'm down, you know her better than I do — if you think she can handle it."

"We'll have the discussion later, I wanted to run it by you, first."

Reaching a hand over to his wife, Doyoung pulls her by the arm back over and against his torso with a kiss to the top of her head as she settles her face into the crook of his neck.

"My little liaison," the man chuckles into her hair lovingly. "You just wanna hear about all the dirty little details after the fact, don't you?"

Pulling back to meet eyes with him, a scrunch of her nose and a giggle gives Doyoung all of the answer he would ever really need.

"What can I say? Everyone wins."

Two glasses of wine poured and the both of you sat next to one another on the large and undoubtedly far too expensive plush couch of the living room — a certain comfort of being only in the company of your best friend — it brings you back to so many other instances like this through the years of your friendship, curled up on far less luxury items but sharing all of the intimate details of your loves and lives, as the closest of friends tend to do.

Tonight, however, would offer a bit of a different experience. You're prepared for it, suppose, as much as you possibly can be, given the circumstances at play.

 "He's not home, is he?" You question suddenly, Mina tucking her legs under the rest of her with glass in hand as she situates herself to be facing you. A smile and a chuckle, she shakes her head. "No, it's just us."

Exhaling a sigh of relief at the option of being walked in on by the very topic of conversation not being on the table, you allow yourself at least a tiny bit more of comfort with the affirmation.

"You're going to have to be honest with me," Mina begins, one corner of her lips tugging upwards. "I can only relay to him what you tell me, and he's not going to freestyle it, either, so—"

You take a much larger swig from your glass than previously had, nearly finishing off the contents of it.

"—Tell me what you want."

"Another glass of wine, for starters."

Snorting, your best friend leans towards the table to grab the bottle into hand, tilting it towards your glass and filling it all over again. "You don't have to be uncomfortable, like I said, it's not really the first time we've done this."

"Yeah, news to me," you sigh with a bit of shock cutting through it. "All these years and I never knew."

Shrugging, Mina sets the bottle down again before settling into place all over. "People tend to assume monogamy among couples, we just allowed them to do so. Not as much of a stick in the mud as you thought he is, huh?"

Choosing not to acknowledge that fact, you take another sip of your wine, waiting for the topic of conversation to shift to something that is — effectively the same topic, but more in pertinence to you, specifically.

"So, tell me."

A sharp inhale, you know that you don't have to go through with this: You can just as easily call the whole thing off and pretend that none of this has ever happened — and that the both of them would happily carry on with their lifestyle all the same — but the unshakable lust for the man now deeply imbedded within you, like an itch that's otherwise impossible to scratch — an offering to have it when under most other circumstances it would have to remain as a dull, silent ache only left to you and your own devices, as it were.

 A little too sweet of a deal to turn down, you find. Not God's strongest soldier, it seems.

 "I don't — I don't want him to all of a sudden pretend like we're best friends and that we get along perfectly," you begin cautiously and with eyes darting up towards your friend with every passing of every word. "I want it to feel natural, to feel real, so—"

"You want him to fuck you like he hates you?"

Laid out so simply, the idea of it makes your throat dry, but you nod all the same. "Yeah, yeah I guess so."

"Let me tell you something," your friend begins as she shifts into a more comfortable position with one leg out and over the side of the couch. "What's always been a little funny to me with your preconceived notions about how Doyoung is in bed — he's actually quite...intense."

"What does that mean?"

"He likes to be in control, there's a bit of a dominant streak in him."

Hearing the words, the math starts coming together in your head about the way the man carries himself, the way he works, and just the way he is in general — you're not quite sure how the idea never dawned on you, perhaps too wrapped up in all of the ways that you find him insufferable and a bore, it only natural to assume the same of his abilities.

Before you have a moment to focus on the ache between your thighs, your friend continues on.

"Does that...sound like something that would interest you?"

Swallowing down your pride along with your arousal, you nod until the rim of your wine glass.

"Well, that's easy enough, then," Mina scoffs with a casual roll of her eyes, as if she had almost been hoping for it to be a bit more of a challenge for him to fulfill the role asked of him. "In that case, what's off limits?"

 For some reason, you hadn't bothered to think that far ahead. Your friend notices as much.

 "For what it's worth, there will be a safe word, so even if you agree to anything now or later or any time, really, you don't have to go through with anything if you're no longer having a good time."

Eyes widening at the concept of needing a safe word, you swallow hard. "That intense, huh?"

"It's up to you," she continues on. "It's not just for when things get wild or out of hand, hell, you can use it if you're just in the same room as him. Have you—" She pauses inquisitively, suddenly questioning whether or not this is a good idea at all. "—Done anything like this before?"

But hearing the reluctance in her tone, you nod quickly. "Yeah! Yes, not with...my best friends husband, though."

A cute grin across her face, Mina laughs with a coy flick of her wrist. "Don't get so caught up on that. He's my husband, yes, and for all intents and purposes very much still will be for the sake of the scene, but even more than that, he's here to fill a role — he knows that very well."

"Are you going to be involved?" You ask suddenly, the question only now popping into your mind. Your friend laughs.

"No, I mean, he'll tell me about it afterwards but I won't be like...planning scenes with him, or anything. Whatever he has in store for you — well, that's between the two of you, until after it happens, of course."

"Okay."

Taking a sip of her glass and glancing up at you through eyelashes, she brings the topic back around again. "So, no hard limits?"

"Piss play, shit play—" you quietly begin to list off before Mina stops you. "Okay, he's not into any of that either. I mean more along the lines of; name calling, degradation, humiliation, general rough-housing."

Even just thinking about partaking in half of those things with the man in passing sending a shiver down your spine, you shake your head. "I—I don't think so, maybe start slow, though."

"I'll let him know, again, don't be afraid to tell him to stop in the moment if he gets a little too carried away. He's a good dom."

'He's a good dom.'

What an absolutely perplexingly arousing set of words in succession.

Leaning back finally with your shoulders pressed to the couch, you exhale heavily with eyes high to the ceiling above as your friend mirrors your movement — but instead, with a bright smile pulling across her red, wine-stained lips.

"This is going to be so fun."

Part of the fun, you come to find, is the not knowing.

Even with rules, and safe words, and all of the parties involved very much having come to an understanding of the ins and outs of such an endeavor, the truth of the matter was this: You had no way of knowing when, or what, Doyoung has in store for you.

It's a little bit of risky play, too, at the core level. The fact that the two of you not be explicitly exchanging words among yourselves in order to maintain a certain sense of authenticity to the scene (far from unusual, in the kink world), but new to you, and most definitely requiring a level of trust among all people involved. Far from your favorite person, sure, but you trusted him — and that's far and away what a scenario like this require in order to make it run without a hitch.

And so the question runs constant at the forefront of your mind as you stand in front of your mirror, getting ready for the couples housewarming party: Are you going to fuck your best friends husband tonight?

Stemming from that very simple question, of course, comes a plethora of others: What should one wear? Is it too presumptuous to assume as much? What if it's just a normal evening party and you're completely out of your element in thinking he would fuck you tonight? Do you want to fuck him tonight?

Unfortunately, the answer to that one is an easy yes.

One of the rules being simple enough: The arrangement ends once you and Doyoung have penis in vagina sex — that considered to be the 'goal,' which then only begs the question of how much is the man intending to put you through before even getting to that point?

Or is he to get it done and over with as quickly as possible, instead?

Glancing into the reflection of the mirror and towards a simple, three-quarter sleeve black dress that hands down fitted to the knees, you think it sexy but not too sexy. Just sexy enough. The right amount of sexy.

Let's not appear too excited, after all.

  "Darling, you made it!"

Mina's voice ringing through the kitchen in a faux-french accent as she pours wine for a couple of friends — handing you a glass, she kisses your cheek before pulling away to look you up and down. "You look ravishing, my dear."

God, you hope so.

You find, however, that now that you're here, it's a bit more awkward than anticipated. Man of the hour no where to be found just yet, but unable to stop looking over your shoulder in an attempt to locate him — you sort of hope that your friend be all too preoccupied with the other guests to catch wind of just how hungry for this you may actually be.

Side pressed against the cupboard, you feel the nudge of someone attempting to open it, and turning in an instant to move yourself from out of the way, you're not at all prepared to meet the narrow, dark eyes of the man you're meant to — whatever, with — at some point in time.

You think that your stomach falls out of your ass right then and there.

"Look who showed up! You do take your job of being my wife's friend very seriously, after all."

"Doie! Don't start, it's not even ten o-clock yet!"

 It's almost bizarre to you the way that things carry on with such normalcy, given all of the ways in which the goings on between the three of you now be anything but. Reaching up and towards a bag of chips, with the mans eyes turned towards the subject, you allow yourself the greedy view of his fitted, navy blue button down tucked perfectly into black slacks, with a belt that you're sure costs more than your car payment, accenting it.

Sleeves pushed up and off of his forearms, you take in the way that the muscles and veins flex and move as he does.

Seeing Kim Doyoung in a whole new light — and more than that, you're allowed to do so.

How can a man this fucking insufferable look like this.

"I'll have you know, I can't be out late tonight," you bite back, a good effort in pretending that you hadn't just been eye-fucking him only seconds earlier. "Early morning in the office, tomorrow."

"What a shame," he exasperates sarcastically, settling back down to his heels and handing off the bag to Mina as she walks by with a carefully placed elbow into his side for...being the way that he is. "Don't let us keep you."

"Be nice." You hear your friend groan from just down the hall.

Everything the same as it always is.

Shrugging and reaching to his other side, the man grabs a single popcorn — tossing it into his mouth with a quirk of his eyebrows. "Don't worry, I was just leaving. Some of us still have work to do."

You have really got to get this out of your system.

  "Mina!"

Shouting through the open flooring of the living space towards your friend, you don't bother waiting to hear back a response before you carry on with the thought.

"Is the downstairs bathroom working yet?"

"No, you have to use our bathroom. Upstairs, to the right, all the way down."

With a quick yell back, you hurry yourself up the while, marbled staircase — not having to go particularly badly yet but mostly instead wishing to get away from the volume of the crowd downstairs for a bit — you realize it's your first time having been on the second floor of the home. Still so new and unexplored, you can't help but take in the sight in a way that feels akin to sight-seeing.

The two certainly did not do badly for themselves.

Slowly making your way down the hallway, your attention is instead drawn to a single room to the left and just before the end of the hall — the tiniest bit of flickering, blue light spilling out from the open doorway — simply enough, you know who reside inside.

Carefully sneaking past in an attempt not to disturb him as he works, you can't help but turn your head to peek at the man inside: head cocked to the side to hold his phone there as his hands work busily at a keyboard on the desk in front of him — but you should really know better than to think that you can get away that easily.

Eyes picking up and towards you, one hand pulling upwards and pushing out his index finger towards you. That silent motion that we all know.

The 'come hither.'

Glancing back down the hall from the direction in which you came, you slowly step towards the doorway, palms nervously pressed to either side before slipping past as quietly as can be — then, with the flick of his wrist, Doyoung motions for you to shut the door behind you.

Your heart rate spikes so hard you feel dizzy.

Hand shaking as you reach out and toward the door, you carefully pull it closed behind you — not all of the way, still sitting ajar just behind you — but seemingly good enough for the man and with eyes glued to you all the while, it's then that he motions once again with his finger for you to come to him.

A slow saunter, feeling the way that your heart beats so hard and fast against your chest you're certain that the people on the other end of the phone can hear it, once you reach just beside him, it's then that he finally swivels his chair around and to the side to face you.

Along with issuing another command: To get on your knees.

The truth of it is that it's humiliating how aroused you already are by it all: A quiet, drowning culmination of so many things happening all at once. The fact that it's so wrong to be doing at all, the fact that you had only an hour ago been downstairs reconsidering if it was worth it entirely given how horrible he is, and beyond all of that — the unknown.

A dull thrum between your legs as you slowly kneel down and between his, thankful at least for the friction that that provides.

Legs spread wide before you, you watch as Doyoung slowly slips one hand down the front of his pants to settle over the growing bulge beneath. Barely noticeable strokes over himself and only inches from your face — remaining calm and collected on the work call in his ear as he does so, you slowly bring a hand up to unfasten his belt as the heady desire of watching him work himself begins to course through even pump of your veins.

Catching your wrist in his other hand just as quickly to stop you from touching him, the two of you make eye contact: a look in his features of displeasure and disapproval.

You're not allowed to touch him.

Watching in silence as Doyoung's head falls back against the office chair, barely able to make out the strands of black hair sticking to his slicked forehead — you can't hear him, on account of the call, but the visual enough to drive you mad, and probably even worse than the dream had ever done — pressing your thighs together as tightly as you can manage as you eye the movement of his fist beneath the fabric of his slacks. Growing faster, using his free hand to pull his shirt up and out of the way so that you can watch the way the muscles of his abdomen move with every tug of his hand against his cock — it's truly the most excruciating and simultaneously intoxicatingly arousing thing you've ever watched.

Internally begging for the request that you climb up and onto his lap to take him, or at the very least taste him, you realize all too suddenly that you might really be in over your head this time as you watch him come in his pants for your viewing pleasure, only.

Completely silent, heavy breaths as his chest rises and falls with each one, Doyoung brings his head back up from the back of the chair to tentatively meet your eyes once again as he pulls his dirtied fingers from the inside of his pants.

Playing with the way that his cum coats his fingers for a brief moment, he motions for you one last time — but this time, a much different meaning to that single, cum-covered digit.

You waste no time leaning toward him, and for a moment, it's like you don't even recognize yourself, anymore; long past the realm of the kind of lust-drunken stupor you've ever experienced before — and as the man shoves long, sullied fingers into your mouth, it's an automatic response the way you suck and swirl your tongue around them, as if wishing them to be the cock you would be more than willing to beg for any moment now.

When finished, Doyoung frees his hands from your lips, only to motion you away from him just as simply as he had beckoned you.

 Stumbling down the hall towards the bathroom in which you had originally intended to find, panties slick and soiled with nothing besides your own desire — the words from your bestie ring loud through your memory in a horny daze.

'Intense' might have been the understatement of the year.

When Mina invites you to a work party for her husband, all that you can think about is the night of their housewarming: sucking his cum off of his fingers in the dull, blueish glow of a computer monitor.

You wonder if she knows. Surely, she knows.

Similarly, modestly dressed as that night — this time in a nice blouse and a fitted pair of dress pants, your friend praises your attire as you enter the busy conference room, shoving a tall glass of bubbly into your hands just as quickly as you're able to greet her back.

"Thank you for coming," she sighs in relief. "I was so fucking bored."

You can't help but wonder what this evening has in store for you now.

Now that you've gotten a taste...no pun intended.

"Sure, I didn't have anything better to do."

"Unsurprising, stuff like this is your job, after all, isn't it?"

Slipping up from the side of the both of you with a proud smirk — hair slicked back and off of his forehead to accompany the the just as put together look of his freshly pressed suit, Doyoung comes up to settle next to his wife, hand settling just at the curve of her hip.

You sort of wonder what it feels like to so easily be touched by him before shaking the thought from your mind entirely.

"Are you ever going to let that joke go?" You ask with a roll of the eyes. "It wasn't funny the first time, promise it's not getting funnier the more mileage it gets."

"I'll stop making it when you stop showing up everywhere, maybe."

"She invited me!" You scoff, only to watch the man bend over to whisper the response into Mina's ear. "Don't worry, I'll handle her for that later."

Out loud, your response is of feigned disgust at the sight, but inside, the visual of the man so vividly offering himself to someone once again reigniting the lust in your gut.

It's a deep, untamed need to have him, now. Part of you hopes that tonight will be the night that he finally puts you out of your misery. Get it out of your system, and move on with your life. Go back to nothing but pointed distaste for the man that your best friend chose to marry.

"Well, I'm off, got to make the rounds," The man finally says with a kiss to the top of his wife’s head before gifting you nothing but a raise of the eyebrows in acknowledge of your existence. "Have fun."

It's funny, because it's precisely what you had requested. For him not to pretend. To not act differently in any other circumstances — for everything to carry on as it normally would. You wonder if it's a conscious effort on his part to do so, or if it simply comes that easy to the man.

  Quarter past eleven, you make your way out and onto the balcony by yourself — Mina off enjoying herself with a couple of the other work wives — weaving your away around a handful of folded and tucked umbrellas, tables and chairs for outdoor dining — you manage to find yourself a comfortable little nook of privacy off and to the side, and far from the line of sight of any prying eyes.

Thankfully, as it not be much of a habit you wish to be caught partaking in.

Digging into your bag to drag out the long, white stick from its box along with a lighter and sandwiching it between gently parted, red-stained lips, you light the cigarette and inhale with a feeling of relief washing over you — no, not a habit that you find yourself indulging in often, but perhaps after a few drinks on a particular night, you'd be known to have a bit of crumble to your resolve.

You know that Mina would have a thing or two to say, so best that she not know at all.

 "Look at you—"

Not just the sound of a voice, but a mans voice at that being the thing to startle you, swinging around to find the visage only slightly more comforting than that of a strangers.

"—Don't you have secrets."

Strolling towards you with hands in pockets, you watch as Doyoung closes the distance between the two of you with a toothpick between teeth, and feeling like a child caught red-handed, the lump in your throat catches any chance you have at swallowing down the obvious nervousness carried through your body at his discovery.

Turning away and facing out towards the railing of the balcony, you choose instead not to give power to his overwhelming presence as you inhale another puff of the stick.

"It's just a social thing when I drink."

A quick, careful shift of his body and Doyoung just as easily has you caged in with arms on either side and chest pressed to your back.

It's not the only thing pressed to your back side, either.

Mouth dipping down into the crook of your neck as you carry on your desperate attempt to ignore him, he never kisses you — never actually makes contact of his lips to your skin — but the feathering of warm breath that smells of expensive scotch all the same kind of intoxicating, as if having drank the liquor yourself.

"Have you thought about the other night?"

The first, verbal acknowledgement of this between the two of you. Suppose, it always was just a matter of time before actual words had to be spoken in relation to it, but with one hand sliding closer to your own along the guard rail as the warmth of the words linger against your skin, you swallow dryly at the question before attempting an answer.

"Y-yeah."

"Did you like how I tasted?"

Doyoung answers back to you much too quickly for your liking, obviously far more comfortable and in control of this interaction than you find yourself to be — by design, based on Mina's run down of the man and his sexual preferences — but more surprisingly than that is the way that it doesn't feel alarming, or discomforting, but rather, pools the arousal between your legs faster than you think anyone or anything else ever has.

It's humiliating, and unfortunately, that sort of adds to it, as well.

Fingers around your wrist, the man pulls you around and back towards one of the tables just behind where the both of you stand — a small, couch-like set up with a cloth awning that doesn't allow for a visual inside of it unless you be directly in the front of it — Doyoung drags you gently towards it before seating himself down with legs spread, and this time, hands busily working at his belt as he stares up at you.

"Knees."

If someone had asked you why you simply obey the commands, you wouldn't even really be able to tell them outside of the throbbing, painful need to find out what obeying may get you in the end.

Taking your place between his legs, you dare not attempt to reach out and touch him this time, figure, you learned your lesson from the first encounter enough — watching instead as his fingers pull the leather from it's loops, then work at the button just beneath — a quick lift of his hips to press his dress slacks down only enough to expose himself as necessary, but with the added coverage of his briefs, as well.

You realize now, in this moment, that you'll do just about anything to fucking see it.

Same hand as before sliding down his stomach and gripping his cock from under the remaining fabric, you watch with lewd attentiveness as the man strokes himself in front of your face all over again, just as before.

"Want another taste?" He says, words airy and lustful. Nodding your head in affirmation like a dog begging for a treat, Doyoung chuckles under his breath. "Are you wet?"

The question excites you more than anything else, because surely, he's asking for one reason and one reason, alone.

Quickly darting your hand down and between your legs, the man shoots up and off of the back of the seat with a sudden urgency. "Don't. Don't touch yourself. Surely you know without checking."

Nodding again, you try to say "yes," but the words barely escape through the dryness of your mouth.

"Good girl," he answers, leaning against the seat again and slipping thumbs into the sides of the fabric remaining at his hips to pull it down only a few more inches from where it currently lie. Watching intently as his cock springs free from the confines — finally in full view for you — long and perfectly curved, not too thin but not enough thickness to him that taking him would be troublesome, suddenly, it's as if the problem of your mouth being too dry be replaced now by one of being too wet — watering at the sight of something you want to feel inside of you so desperately that by the second you find yourself losing the ability to feign disinterest in him.

Dominant hand snaking around his length again, Doyoung brings his other hand forward and towards you — wrapping around to the back of your head and fingers curling into the strands of hair there. It stings, but nothing too bad, and instead you find the pain only amplify the throb between your legs now as he dangle precisely what it is that you want just out of reach and in front of your face with every slow, gentle stroke of his hand along his cock.

"You want another taste, yeah?" He whispers this time as he tightens his grip into your hair and tilts your head back — perfect angle for the wet, head of his cock to rub just at your chin and bottom of your lip.

It's exciting, painfully so, as the untouched arousal coiling within you threatens. For a second, you really wonder if you can cum from this alone.

"If I cum for you will you be a good girl and swallow it for me?" He says then as the movement of his hand begins to pick up just that much more. "I come a lot, can you handle that?"

For some reason, the thought of the man having full, heavy loads of cum makes you even hotter for him. Something so primal and lewd about the idea of it — but perhaps you're too fucked out on not being fucked by now that you can't tell what's sexy and what's not, anymore.

Either are possible.

"Y-yes," you huff out, darting your tongue out to lick at the bottom of your lip and not-so-accidentally meeting with the tip of his length. Devilish grin taking his features, Doyoung stills his actions just as easily — an impressive amount of self-control. "Uh-uh, that's cheating."

Pulling you up and higher from your knees so that you gain more height above him, with the way that you're positioned over his cock, you think that he may threaten to impale your throat on him in one, smooth go. Deep down, you sort of hope he does.

"Spit."

The command comes through so strong in tone that you quickly answer to it, collecting enough saliva in your mouth to dribble down and onto the already plenty wet shaft of his cock as he continues to stroke himself through it with a low, throaty groan that makes you want nothing more than to swallow him whole with how close you are to it.

"Wanna suck my cock, baby?"

You nod wildly.

Hissing through his teeth at the sight of your neediness, he picks up the pace of his fist along his shaft as he settles you back down to your original position between his knees — tip of himself pressed along your lip. "How bad do you want it? Will you beg to have me in your mouth?"

"Yes, please—"

"I didn't say to beg, I just asked if you would," he amends with a patronizing cock of his head. "Want me to fuck your throat? Choke down my cum for me like a good girl?"

The throb nearly unbearable now, you can only whine at the words as he gets closer and closer to his own completion.

"Why don't you open that pretty little mouth for me so I can give you what you came here for?"

The words coming out in a deep, throaty groan as he teeters on the edge of completion, you allow your jaw to fall slack as he fucks himself with his hand a few more times before moaning out through gritted teeth at the feeling of his release — ropes of warm, wet cum painting your cheek and lips despite mostly being caught on your tongue as he comes in waves with every pull of his fingers along his length until finally stilling — leaning forward only to gaze upon his artistic handy work before telling you to swallow it all as previously instructed.

On the way home that night, only ten, simple words lingering on your mind as you make peace with the discomfort of your arousal along the way.

'so I can give you what you came here for.'

"Mina! I'm—"

Turning the corner and into the kitchen to find the door to fridge open — this is all well and good, except for, of course, once it closes and you're forced into contact with the same man who just came in your mouth unceremoniously a week prior.

Expressionless otherwise, Doyoung raises an eyebrow at the sight of you in his home before closing the stainless steel door and walking the other way.

"Guess my lovely wife forgot to inform her employee about the schedule change!" He says with a huff.

"You have got to let that joke go."

Right back to the usual. You wonder what sort of cruel games God plays when granting such a horrible man such a beautiful cock.

Shrugging and turning to look back at you from over his shoulder, the man takes a pitcher of water from the counter; pouring himself a glass before taking another one down from the cupboard and filling that, as well. Slowly carrying on towards you, he hands you the perfect crystal before nodding towards the marble island sitting in the middle of the kitchen for you both to take seats at.

Watching him move, it's such a different feeling from the one that intimately, you've grown a bit accustomed to. You know well enough that people involved in kink and alternate lifestyles are just regular people, but suppose you find yourself never having been so involved with one.

Or rather, fooling around with one who also happens to be married to your best friend.

Oversized, brown sweater hanging off of broad shoulders and thin, round framed glasses, Doyoung perches himself onto one of the stools with a gentle clank of his glass against the cool marble beneath — elbow snug against the hard material and hand serving as a means to lean his temple against as he looks upon you.

It's a little bizarre, feeling him watch you in a way that doesn't feel sexual at all. In a way, you find, it might be the first time Doyoung has really paid you any attention at all beyond the irritating banter of your joint, non-intimate involvement.

Looking charmingly soft and domestic, it's hard to make sense of the man seated in front of you, and the man who asked you to spit on his dick a week ago.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Taking a small sip from your glass, you try to drink down with it the nervousness of being in his presence, but suppose, maybe just a normal conversation will help alleviate that much.

"Have you...told her?"

Stilling, as if not quite sure what it is that you're asking, Doyoung's eyes first pull away from you in some attempt to gather knowledge from elsewhere that he not quite have in front of him. "Yeah, she told you I would."

Thumbing at the rim of your glass, intentionally avoiding any and all eye contact with the man, you hum in response. "What does she think?"

Glancing up, you catch the sight of a grin taking the mans lips, tongue darting across his lower lip like he's finally cracked the case of what all of this is about — settling back into his position from just before with a wide, gummy smile that you're not all that used to seeing.

"She thinks it's hot, is that what you want to hear?"

Snorting at the reply, you shrug. "I don't know. I guess."

"If this is some juvenile way of asking if everyone on our end is okay with the way things are taking place thus far, then the answer is 'yes,'" he says with an annoyingly judgmental tone to his voice. "Everything good on your end?" He adds much to your surprise, popping your head up suddenly at the question.

"Uh," you begin, bashful at the thought of further acknowledging the goings on between the two of them at this current point in time. "Y-yeah, everything is good."

Answering you first with a nod as he sets the glass into the sink, the man carries on down the short hallway and out of the kitchen entirely.

"Well, I've got work to do. Mina'll be home in about a half an hour. Make yourself comfortable, you apparently live here, after all."

Frown on your face at the words and tightening the grip on the set of keys that most definitely go to this home — suppose it's a fair enough assessment.

  After a much later night than usual, with Mina in bed and keys of your own, it's simple enough to let yourself out.

Dimly lit hallways all of the way into the kitchen, it's on your way to sneaking out that you recall having left your dirty glass on the counter — and without giving Doyoung any more reasons to be a thorn in your side, obviously, it easier to be dealt with now. Easy enough.

Except that apparently this guy fucking lives in the kitchen.

Laptop propped up onto the same counter that the two of you shared your small chat earlier, the man watches you move slowly through the area — carefully reaching towards your glass and taking it into your hand as you slide it towards yourself and turn to set it precisely where it is that it belongs.

"Sorry," you whisper on your way past him again and towards the kitchen exit, before that familiar, strong hand finds itself looping around your wrist all over again.

You don't know if you can handle another night like the other two, however.

Pulling you into him with your back to his chest and still seated in place, you think it perhaps a good idea to have worn a cute little sun dress today.

That's not the only surprise you have in waiting, either.

One arm wrapped around your shoulders as the other slinks down to the inside of your thigh — you delight in the feeling of the man touching you, really touching you, for the first time. Delicate pads of his fingers feathering up slowly to the apex of your thighs, it's only due to the position of you against him in such a way that he feels the knocking of something hard against his wrist as he attempts to move closer to your vulva.

And it causes him to still completely.

Seconds of silence passing between you, nearly holding your breath at the anticipation of what's to come — you wonder if he'll choose to punish you for daring to go out on a limb and do such a thing, if punishment is even really something he would do — so many questions and possibilities, all more exciting than the last.

Slowly, you feel him lower his head down, mouth just next to your ear as the very same traveling hand pulls back to your behind and presses a finger right up against the exact thing causing the intrusion.

"Well, well, well," he whispers teasingly against your flesh. "Someone came over with expectations."

Already having opted out of verbally replying to him, he makes it easy with the ease in which he pushes you forward to give him space to stand — fingers pressed into the side of your neck from behind as he hurriedly urges you towards the darkened, least lit countertop in the kitchen.

It's a nice attention to detail: Not that the two of you have to sneak around, but pretending to makes it all that much more worth it.

Forcing your face and chest down and folding you over, Doyoung bunches the fabric of your dress up and over your ass just before diving by hand into the back of your panties for precisely the device that has him in such a mood.

"Who told you to wear this?" He asks with a gentle press against it. One finger extending down, he dips into your folds just ever so lightly before pulling back up with a chuckle under his breath. "You're so wet. Aren't you a little cockslut?"

The shift in Doyoung's demeanor this time hard to ignore, like a little bit of him lost in some sort of primal, animalistic lust to have you — it's precisely what you had been going for, after all.

Distinct sound of him hurriedly trying to pull himself from his jeans, met then with the feeling of long, deft fingers gently tugging your underwear down your legs — Doyoung pulls your hips up and out just enough before pressing your thighs closed together with his cock sandwiched in between and the plug in your ass on display for him as he continues gently pushing and pulling on it with ever shallow thrust of his hips against you.

It's excruciating, the promise of feeling him snug between your walls in only an inch or so of adjustment — head of his cock rutting gently against your swollen clit as he aimlessly fucks the wetness of your pussy from the outside — you regret the way that the quake of your thighs give away the fact that you may be able to come from this contact alone.

Slowing his movements against you with hands firmly pressed into the dip of your hips, Doyoung leans down and against you to whisper more torment into your ears.

"So close, baby," he huffs out. "You're so wet, could slide inside of you so easily — fuck you raw right here, would you like that?"

As if the knowing and the wanting wasn't enough, the talking always ending up as your ultimate downfall with the man.

You nod despite the way in which the side of your face lie against cold, unforgiving marble — looking back at him as he administers this particular punishment of the night. You're not sure if it's intended to be a punishment — of if any of it really is, but it certainly does feel that way.

Perhaps you're just a little bit too used to getting what you desire, with ease.

"Sort of want to," he says through gritted teeth, a certain tonal anger that you don't think you've heard from the man in your encounters before but that causes you to clench hard around nothing all the same. The promise of finally getting what you want to bad — the taking of what he wants and needs of you even in spite of himself. One hand sliding up your back and setting on the back of your neck again, he pulls his hips back just enough to position the tip of his length perfectly at your entrance — threatening all the while with shallow pokes to sheath himself inside of you once and for all.

"Fuck you stupid, have you babbling my name while I fuck you full of my load like the cum-hungry bitch that you are, that's what you want me to do, right?" Without giving you time to respond, you feel him pull hard enough on the plug embedded in your ass to remove it, tossing it into the sink only a little bit away. "Come over here with this in makes me act a little fucking crazy — but you haven't earned having me in your cunt just yet."

Hand swooping down from the small of your back and cradling instead his length as he positions the tip of himself at your well-prepped asshole — well enough lubricated from topically fucking your pussy, Doyoung presses himself inside of the tight cavern slowly with a bitten bottom lip and a forced back groan from his chest as he sinks inside of you as delicately as he can muster.

You're thankful enough for his attention, but it's not your first rodeo, and you prepped for a reason — pushing your hips back and against him as signal to carry on, he brings the hand back up and to your shoulder, leverage to pull you back with force and onto his cock with every following snap of his hips.

Truthfully, he feels fucking exquisite inside of you.

"Fuck, Doyoung—" you whine, only for one hand to swing around and over your mouth just as quickly as the words exit.

"Don't address me," he grits through drives of his hips into you — moans spilling out through his fingers all the same as if no hand there at all. "Don't talk, just take my cock like you're supposed to."

Nodding, the overwhelming feeling of wanting to come so badly and not knowing if you can get there untouched — tears threatening the corners of your eyes with every relentless yet heavenly drag of the mans cock inside of your ass — it's then that you feel the ghosting of fingers over your clit. A feeling so exciting to you now that you nearly bear down against them, to which, Doyoung chuckles at your neediness.

"Can't just come from my cock in your ass?" He whispers, the lewd sound of his hips meeting the flesh of your behind echoing through the otherwise empty bottom floor of the home. "How much do you think I'd have to rub you before you came all over my hand? Ten seconds?—"

The light, feathering of the tip of his fingering feeling nearly electric over your clit now, you moan out into the palm of his hand with eyes clamped shut. "—Five seconds?"

Breathing heavily through his hand as he continues his relentless drive into you from behind, pulling his hand away from between your legs you whine loudly against the flesh of him at the loss of yet another release, but instead, the hand around your mouth curling fingers between your lips as you happily and seductively suck around them like cock presented. Groaning at the sight, his other free hand traveling up the length of your torso and finding purchase against your breast as his thumb gently circles around the bud there — Doyoung leans down to curl his lips into a smile against your back at the sight of all of the ways that you're willing to fall apart for him.

"I think you can come without it."

Gently fucking his fingers into your mouth — simulating the presence of his length currently buried in your ass, also buried down your throat, with the additional stimulation of gentle tugs and flicks of his thumb against your nipple, pressing your thighs together tightly — you suspect that he might be right.

"God, look at you," he groans, slowing his hips to focus elsewhere as he watches the way you hungrily lap at his fingers. "You want to suck my cock so bad — have you always wanted it, baby?"

It's nearly involuntary, the moan that rips through you as the words leave his mouth.

Just shy of baby talking, condescending certainly, Doyoung pressing the pads of his fingers harder against your tongue as he shoves all of the way into your mouth to the best of his ability given the angle. "That why you act like that? Need me to fuck your face open, make you gag on it a little bit so you shut up?"

The words, with a particularly sharp snap of his hips, has your legs pressing in on themselves in just a way that you know with a little bit more movement, you can get there. Through tears brimming in your eyes, you manage out a desperate plea past the mans fingers — met with such a familiar sinister grin, Doyoung picks up the pace of his hips — harder and fuller with length against you as you nearly cry out around the fingers still dug in between your lips.

Digging a hand up from your chest and in your hair again, knuckles twisting into it hard as he chases his high, with a bit back groan he gazes down at you — standing tall and firm from behind you as you barely manage to meet eyes with him from your twisted position.

"Gonna come, baby?" He whispers through labored breaths as he teeters on the edge of release. "Want me to fuck my cum in your ass, don't you?"

"Yes, yes—" You chant at the promise of finally being able to come in the presence of the man. You're thankful when it's only two or three more stutters of his hips into you from behind before he releases into you — hot cum spilling into your hole as he shoves the full length of himself inside as he finishes. It's enough for you, thankfully, enough friction from the movement of him against you to have you barreling over the edge along with him with a shriek and a whine through his fingers as you come hard and long for the first time since you two have begun your rendezvous.

Chests heaving as the man gently pulls himself from you, you quickly bend down to pull your panties up to catch the mess of cum already immediately making its exit from your used, stretched open hole. Turning back around to face him as he effectively cages you in with arms on either side of the counter — the two of you make eye contact briefly before a gentle flushing of embarrassment washes over you and you're forced to pull away from the man that only seconds ago was inside of you.

"Try to remember to wash your dishes, would you? I can't do this every time."

Turning back suddenly, you playfully slap at his arm as he shimmies his jeans back up and around his hips.

Mixed drink and a slightly over-cooked quesadilla in front of you on the table of a busy, evening restaurant on your side of town — in the company of a handful of shared friends, Mina and her miserable husband, you can't help the pique in curiosity about the ins and outs of such an arrangement from inside of the marital home.

How much their relationship benefits from the retelling of such engagements with your best friends husband. How much their sex life benefits from it.

Watching from your peripheral — an attempt to not make it so obvious, how interested you are in the dichotomy of it — Mina and Doyoung playfully flirting and touching each other from across the table as if the man hadn't just sodomized you in their kitchen only a few days prior.

It turns you on even that much more. The mystery behind it.

"God—" An exasperated sigh from the man; black turtle neck and fitted black jeans just under the table as he sets his glass back down onto the table with a disgruntled scrunch of facial features adorning his face. "—This drink is terrible, I should say something."

Squinting, the pointless complaint pulls something from you. Such a typical, stuck up, rich guy thing to say.

"Drinks are two dollars here, what did you expect?"

"I don't care if it's two or twenty dollars, if I'm paying for it then it should at least be drinkable."

Eyes turning towards your friend seated next to you as she meets your gaze just the same, a swift kick across the way to her husbands shin has him rolling his eyes and jolting back in his chair. "Be good, Doie."

"Yes, dear."

"Can't take him anywhere," You whisper to your friend, well within earshot of the man, which of course only causes him to lean in and towards the both of you with an irritated frown. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here."

"Better than talking to you."

"Trust me," he sighs, leaning back into his seat again. "The feeling is more than mutual. I wonder everyday how you ended up with a key to our place."

 For whatever reason, that one stings in particular.

 Normally, dealing with Doyoung is something that you're used to — but tonight, there's a certain tone to him that you find hitting somewhere in your chest in a much different way. Not just banter, but perhaps a deeply personal disapproval of not only you, but your friendship with his wife.

It's not that you anticipated starting a sexual relationship with him to have fixed your dealings outside of it — quite the contrary, actually — but maybe enough was enough, now.

You've cum on my face, the least you could do is treat me with a basic level of respect.

 Napkin out of your hand and onto the table in a way that it's obvious of your displeasure, you stand suddenly and inform Mina of your departure to the bathroom. "Do you want me to come with you?" She of course offers, only for you to quickly dismiss it and assure her that you're fine as you carry yourself off and down the short hallway to the small, two-stall ladies room.

Leaned over the dirty, wet, black granite counter with both hands pressed into the edge, you look at yourself in the reflection — needing a moment to cool off, you're still relatively unsurprised when you don't receive it.

Cracking the door open, you watch from in front of you as the most insufferable man you've ever known slips inside to join you.

"You having fun?" He starts, already with intent to have a fight with you. "Have fun causing a scene?"

"Oh, I'm causing a scene!" You chime sarcastically, "not the guy who wants to complain about a two dollar drink not being up to par. Does it ever get exhausting? Being so fucking far up your own ass?"

Rushing towards you in an instant, Doyoung wraps a hand in your hair from behind — first pushing you forward with the momentum of it but just as quickly ripping you backwards and towards one of the empty stalls. Door slamming shut behind the both of you and just as quickly allowing the back of his shoulders fall to the wall, he works quickly at his belt as the sinister look in his eyes never once leaves your own.

You wonder how he has this kind of power — only seconds ago the most horrible man you could ever imagine being around, but now, watching him stare you down as he works to free his cock for you in this public bathroom — you realize that it's that precise mixture of things that makes his desirability so strong. Painfully so, as the throb between your legs already finds itself stirring up once again.

Barely pushed down his hips and freeing his hardening length, languid strokes over himself as he stands in front of you never once breaking eye contact for a second, you realize in humiliating silence that you're waiting for his command.

Of which, he quickly grants you: "Why don't you put that mouth to good use, for once."

Maybe if you hadn't been wanting it for so long already you'd be more willing to put up a bit of a fight, but finally being granted one of the things you've been dying for since the beginning of this endeavor with him — falling to your knees in the filth of this bathroom stall and immediately taking him into your hand with a long, enthusiastic swipe of your tongue up the bottom of his shaft — the low, breathy groan that it grants you reason enough to pull forward to take the head of his cock between your lips and swirl your tongue there, only to press down along his length for as far as you can before the tip of him threatens the back of your throat.

Unfortunately, it's not much of him that you can take before that happens.

Hand in your hair again as you've grown so familiar, you hear the sound of his head falling back against the granite before parting his lips to speak. "Gonna have to do a better job than that. How good can you be?"

You know what he's really asking.

Pulling you forward by your hair harder along his length, you struggle to accommodate him in your mouth, but it's not the first time you've done something like this — he's not asking too much of you — but it's sudden, and the burn against your throat something you're not used to feeling as your gag reflex begins to trigger and tears well up in your eyes at the struggle.

Doyoung pulls you back only slightly so that you can take a deep breath before bringing your mouth back along him. "Come on, you're gonna have to take it all, baby."

The words 'have to' immediately pooling between your legs, especially.

Gagging around him, the man moans through the sounds of you struggling to take his cock into your throat, he begins shallow, short thrusts against your mouth in an attempt to bring your nose flush with the skin of his pubic area, but with this not being something you've done often enough — there's part of you that wants to fight through it, because frankly, you've been fantasizing about this very moment since the very first night you tasted his cum from his fingers, anyways — but perhaps you should have practiced a bit more (or at all) at home in anticipation for this night.

You don't want to, but everyone has limits.

Three fast taps of your hand against his thigh, Doyoung immediately removes himself from your hair, allowing you to pull off from him just as quickly — coughing into the crook of your elbow as you attempt to regain oxygen into your lungs, you can't see much through the wetness gathered in your eyelashes, but you do hear the sound of him tucking himself away again before kneeling down to meet you on the floor.

"Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

"No," you rasp out, sounding far more fucked and broken than you actually are, but rather, a physical result of the assault on your throat. Really, you're fine, just too much, too fast. "I'm okay, seriously, just couldn't yet."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Concern dripping from his voice — he's not touching you, purposely as to give you enough space from him, you shake your head with a chuckle as you bring your hand up to wipe the tears away from your eyes before making eye contact with him again.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong, I was a little too enthusiastic, I think."

"Is it okay if I touch you?"

Chuckling again at the way that the man almost insists on handling you with kid gloves, you roll your eyes. "Yes, I'm not broken, I just can't deep throat seven inches of dick on a whim without a bit of practice."

"Aw," Doyoung coos, running a hand gently through your hair, before standing himself and helping you to your feet. "You think I'm seven inches. That's sweet."

Sniffling hard and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before straightening your clothing and dusting off your knees, you shoot the man a confused frown. "Bigger or smaller?"

Unlocking the stall door and motioning for you to exit, Doyoung offers you a simple wag of his index finger and a pompous grin before answering.

"A lady never tells. After you."

With weeks of fooling around with Kim Doyoung under your belt now, you find a certain level of trust and comfort established. Exemplified by his adhesion to boundaries and safe words at the drop of a hat, you can't help but recall the words that Mina had offered you so early on in the initial discussions of this foray into ethical non-monogamy.

'He's a good dom.'

Sure, you have a lot of criticisms of the man: That he's brash, boring, conceited, self-important and a whole other mess of ways to say that he's far from the kind of man you'd like to see yourself with at the end of the day, but one thing is for sure — safety, respect and trust are of the utmost importance to him.

Thinking back to that time in the bathroom — immediately unconcerned with the state of his erection in favor of the state of your well-being — sure, it sort of is the bare minimum when it comes to this sort of sexual play, but something to be celebrated, all the same.

So now, you may have an interest in rearranging some of the terms of your agreement.

  "Honey, I'm home!"

Annoyingly sing-song in a way that you know will irritate the man of the house but be effortlessly charming to the person that you're there to see — when met with silence, you're a bit disappointed. After all, playing house in spite of Doyoung's clear distaste for it has turned into one of your favorite past times.

Both the playing house, and the irritating him parts.

"Hello?" You ask again, listening to the way the words echo through the empty, lower-level of the home, only to eventually be met regretfully by the husband — apron-clad and wooden spoon in hand as he settles a straight-faced look upon you without offering anything for words.

Then, he turns back and into the kitchen from which he came.

A roll of the eyes, you set your bag down on a chair near the door, kicking your shoes off and following after him — eyes pulling towards the familiar countertop that you've more than become acquainted with as you circle around to the other side of the kitchen island to sit in the very same chair that the man had been seated in the last time that the two of you had your...engagements, here.

"So," you sigh. "When's Mina coming home?"

"She's not."

The words sort of send a chill down your spine, because the first thing that comes to mind is that the things that the two of you have been engaging in have now torn their relationship apart.

But, Mina was the one that told you to come over.

Glancing over his shoulder while perched over the stove — obvious horror splashed across your face, Doyoung laughs at the obvious line of thought in your mind. "She's on a business trip."

"Then, why did she tell me to come over?"

Halfway into turning his attention back to his cooking, he brings his head all the way back to look at you again: It's a look that says, "you know why, don't play dumb now."

He doesn't offer verbal confirmation, but you understand the jist of it well enough with just that. "Have you eaten?" He asks instead, to which you nod. "Yeah, had something on the way over."

It's sort of perfect, the way that the pieces fall together as Doyoung stands across from you at the very same island — a small bowl of soup being shoveled into his mouth with no particular haste as you watch him — gray sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, it's a cozy look that you're not all that used to seeing from him considering the majority of your involvement with him has been out and about.

You've been meaning to bring this up, anyways.

"I think—" you start quietly, picking at the skin around your fingernails lightly. The nervousness being the first thing that Doyoung notice as his eyes travel up from his empty bowl and towards your own, waiting for you to finish the thought.

"—I don't want to do this anymore. With you. It feels wrong. I can't do it anymore."

The layer of silence that falls across the atmosphere of the kitchen feeling so suffocatingly thick as you wait for his response — the man simply staring at you quietly through his eyelashes without even the slightest bit of movement until his lips part ever so lightly to speak.

"Color?"

And with confidence, you whisper back "green."

Squinting at you, you recall back having mentioned this to Mina in passing: the resistance kink. The desire to be 'taken,' to have a complete loss of control over the situation — participating in something so dirty, so wrong, and loving every second of it so much that you desperately wish for the morality of it to be out of your hands entirely. 'I want it, but wanting it is wrong. Only when stripped of the choice entirely is there true freedom to desire.'

And obviously, she passed it along to him, but the discussion not having happened in full means that now it's up to you to take matters of consent into your own hands.

But slowly raising from his slightly folded position, Doyoung brings his bowl to the sink, rinsing it out, and coming back to you in silence. The discomfort is poignant, so, now you have to ask.

"Color?" You slowly drop from dry lips, and without breaking his suffocating gaze on you, he whispers back pointedly "yellow."

The word exits his mouth quietly, smoothly, as if really trying to drive home to you how much this is not the way these things are supposed to work: Truth of the matter is that you know that, and this should have been discussed at length long before tonight — but you trust him to be able to make the adjustments, and worst case, to stop if you should need him to.

You're hopeful that he trusts you to do all of the same.

Then, he parts his lips to speak again. "—But, green."

It's his way of letting you know that you've gone about this all wrong, but all things considered, he's willing to roll with the punches, anyway. Jutting towards you, Doyoung wraps long fingers around your wrist, ripping you off of the stool and nearly knocking it to the floor as a result; tearing the apron from his waist as he roughly tugs you out of the kitchen, down the hall, up the stairs and swings you around to press your back against the shining, platinum railing of the banister in the hallway.

"Why did you wear jeans?" He grunts as he drops to his knees in front of you, quickly pulling apart the button and zipper to roughly drag the tight fabric down your legs.

Frankly, you didn't know that you'd be doing this tonight.

Stepping out of them and shoved down the hallway to be sufficiently out of the way, the man hoists one of your legs up and over his shoulder — one hand digging fingers into the side of the crotch of your panties to grant him quick access to your already anticipatory pussy.

However, him being eye level with your cunt not particularly how you had expected this to go — ever, really.

Looking up at you from between your legs and through devilishly narrow eyes, the man makes one, simple, request: "Tell me about the dream."

Diving into your folds as his tongue presses flat and firm against your clit — the sudden feeling of him having you like this making you dizzy with want, you find yourself entirely unsure how you're expected to recount much of anything to him like this — and especially once he begins unrelenting suction to you that threatens to make you cum almost immediately.

Attempting to bite back your moan, and instead opting for a breathy 'fuck,'  you know well enough that if you don't adhere to the command, he'll most definitely stop.

"Y-you—" there's an attempt to speak at least, until two long, thin fingers bury into you to the last knuckles.

Pulling his mouth away from you and licking at his lips lewdly, he cocks his head to the side playfully. "Better start talking or I'll stop."

"God, okay," you exasperate as he dives back in. "Was...against the wall, you fucked me against the wall — we weren't—"

"Allowed?" He pauses again only long enough to finish your thought with a grin. Nodding quickly, Doyoung still slowly fucking into you with his fingers as he watches you fall apart from above him, he coos at the look and sound of you — perhaps finally coming to an understanding of what all of this is about.

"Good girl," he hums gently, lips brushing against your wet folds without much intent behind the contact. "Can you do me another favor?"

Breathy and already a little fucked out, you whisper out a "yes."

"Come on my mouth."

Leaning up and into you again, tongue firm into your clit with tight, intensive swirls — it doesn't take long for you to follow through as one hand falls down and wraps into his hair — holding him firm in place as you involuntarily grind down against his mouth as you come blindingly hard onto him. Long since needed and the orgasm from the night in the kitchen hardly offering the release you had been looking for — Doyoung lending his face to you in such a lewd, particularly out of character act of a blending of roles — as you come down slowly from your high, you watch the man pull away and out of you with a gentle ease, sucking his fingers clean of you before wiping his face with the back of his hand and standing tall in front of you.

 "Want to fuck your best friends husband, but don't want to be responsible for the repercussions of it, huh?"

 You just came, but the promise of getting exactly the fantasy that you wish for out of this throbbing between your legs pooling just as if you hadn't.

You don't even get to answer before the same, dominant hand is wrapped up in the hair at the back of your head and pushing you down the hallway, towards the bedroom.

Stumbling inside as he roughly pulls you around, once the both of you reach the edge of the bed, Doyoung sits you down just in front of him — not letting you free of his grasp, but instead with his other hand, freeing his growing erection from his pants and pulling your mouth against him harshly.

Of course, you take him in with ease.

"You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth like this," he groans from above you, eyes glued to the place where he disappears inside of you. "Always knew you wanted me, that's why you always act like that, just need me to put you in your place, don't you?"

Moaning at the words and around his dick as he shallowly presses inside of your wet mouth, speed slowly picking up with each passing moment as he continues to talk you through it. "What are we going to do if my wife finds out? Suppose we just can't let that happen, can we?"

You hate the way the thought has you clenching down hard.

"That's why you're over here so much, isn't it?" Doyoung asks through gritted teeth as he continues fucking into your mouth, gently prodding at the back of your throat with each thrust. "Just begging for me to fuck your mouth? You love my cock, don't you?"

Pulling his length from you only long enough for you to answer back and breathy 'yes,' he sheaths himself inside all over again

Only a few more thrusts before grunting, Doyoung pulling himself from your mouth to fist over his cock and lined up with your face — you display your mouth open with tongue flat as he comes over your flesh again — warm, heavy ropes of himself painting your face and mouth before quickly angling your head down again to place his length between your lips for you to suck him clean, as well.

Holding your head back again and bringing his other hand up, thumb spreading the wetness of the act across your lips, chin and cheeks before shoveling most of it into your mouth as your lips close around his thumb to suck the digit clean just as you have with his cock — groaning into the look and sensation of it, Doyoung gently taps the inside of his fingers against your jaw, signaling for you to open your mouth all over again as he shoves two fingers in to swirl around the mixture of cum and spit collected there.

Slipping back and away from you, the command comes through simply. "Swallow."

You do so without question.

Wiping your mouth with your shoulder and taking in a heavy breath, you sigh out while looking up at him. "We can't ever let her find out about this?"

But glancing down at you with the most evil look in his eye, you watch as a single corner of his mouth gently pulls up,

 "You think I'm done with you?"

 It sends a tingle down your spine and straight to your pussy, Doyoung suddenly reaching forward to turn you around and bent over the bed as he pulls your soiled panties roughly to the side with a tear. Rubbing the head of his cock through your soaking slit and against your still sensitive clit, you grip hard into the sheets beneath you, attempting to pull away from him but to no avail as he grips fingers roughly into your hips to keep you precisely in place and displayed before him.

"Think you can take it all, baby?" He sighs, leisurely stroking himself back to full hardness as his tip slowly begins to split your pussy open from behind. "Can you be a good girl for me, take the whole thing?"

Whimpering against the mattress at the desperate, delicious burn of his cock finally entering you after so long — what feels like a lifetime of desiring having him buried inside of your walls, finally being granted to you with slow, almost delirious ease as he sinks into you from the back, you answer him honestly. "N-no."

"I don't think so, either," he responds with a comfortable ease as he continues with his initial stroke. "But you're going to try, aren't you? Not used to taking such a big dick?"

"No, fuck, Doyoung—"

"God you want this so bad, already so fucked out on my dick and I'm not even inside all of the way," gently pulling his hips back only to rock back inside, even such a simple movement granting him a cry out from between your dry lips. Leaning forward and over your back to plant a hand down between your shoulders and holding you in place, Doyoung repeats the action again to elicit the same response from you all over again.

"Oh, you love a big cock," he grits out through his teeth as he finally settles into a rhythmic pace against your behind. "You love my cock. Say you didn't want to do this, didn't want to go through with this, but I don't think that's true at all, is it?"

Pulling out far enough for only the tip of him to remain inside of you before drilling back hard into your cunt, you nearly cry at the unrelenting pressure of him against your walls, and in particular, against your g-spot. Thighs trembling and stomach tightening with every full, hard drive of himself into you, it's an attempt to form a full thought but instead, the words come out as only babbled sobs as he drives hard and firm into you.

"Do-Doyoung, fuck, 'm gonna, 'm—p-please, please, fuck—"

"You gonna come, baby?" The question comes through with hastened, airy breaths as if close himself. "Come around my dick for me? Wanna earn my cum?"

Nodding fast against the mattress, he grunts into a particularly hard thrust against you. "Make your lil cunt so messy."

Pulling himself back up into a straighter, standing position at the edge of the bed, fingers firmly dug into the flesh of your waist as he pulls you back hard onto his cock — the sudden angle change toppling you over into your orgasm unexpectedly as you cry out for him and curl your own nails into the sheets beneath you as your release rips through your body — simultaneously, Doyoung falling victim to the way your pussy clenches down around his length, fucking you roughly through your orgasm as he reaches his own with bit back, throaty moan at the way your cunt nearly milks his cum from him with little movement and so much ease — burying himself so deep into your guts that it threatens to hurt and whining at the near pain of having him so fully inside of you as he coats your walls.

Chests rising and falling, Doyoung pulls from you and falling next to you, it's much to your surprise when familiar hands tug you to the side and seated over his hips.

 "Split yourself open on my cock and come again."

 The words themselves nearly enough to do you in, but with the unrelenting throb of your untouched clit impossible to ignore, you follow the command as you position your hips over his impressively hard length and wasting no time burying him inside of your messy, cummed-in cunt all over again.

Leaning back ever so slightly and quickly rubbing circles into your clit for his viewing pleasure as he pulls the sweatshirt still clinging to his chest up to expose more skin of his abs and chest — reaching your free hand down, you touch over the skin there, feeling more of him and the way his abs reach to not only your touch, but the visual just in front of him.

"Fuck," you whimper, already feeling the threat of another orgasm building as your walls squeeze tightly around his seated shaft. "Fuck, Doie—"

The pet name.

"God, don't call me that, I'll come in your little pussy all over again," he nearly whines through an exhausted chuckle. It's a sort of endearing, almost break in character that you're not used to seeing from the man.

"Come on baby, be a good girl and come for me," he starts again with a fucked out whisper as he watches you twist circles into your pussy just above where his length disappears inside of you. "Show me just how bad you wanted me inside of you."

Toes curling and teeth gritting as it washes over you all over again — a nearly silent scream of an orgasm as your mouth hangs open through your release — a similar, quiet groan from the man beneath you as he watches and feels you come on him for the third time tonight.

 He takes his jobs very seriously.

 Giving you a moment to calm before heaving you off of him and standing in front of you again, as you sit up to meet his dick with your lips just as before, you can't help but be seriously impressed by his ability to maintain an erection.

You're beginning to understand why Mina married him, after all.

"Clean me up," he commands, hand gently weaved into the back of your head in such a familiar way. "Enjoy it while you can, it's the last time you'll get to taste me."

True as it is, you find yourself surprisingly somber at the thought of this being the end of the arrangement, as agreed upon. Far from an emotional connection, but rather, a mental one — a mutual understanding between physical lovers. The trust, the communication, and safety inherent in this particular pairing of people.

Plus, his cock is perfect and he fucks like a pornstar.

Licking up the length of his shaft, truly savoring the taste of his cum and your own mixed along it before taking him deep into your mouth and bobbing slowly, carefully, full of intent along his cock — partially for the show of it, and partially because yes, it's the last time, and you'll miss this more than you might have thought you would going in.

"You're amazing," Doyoung sighs, gently pulling his length from between your lips and folding over just enough to be only a few centimeters off from your own face with his. "Open."

Obeying the command and jaw falling slack, the man allowing the collection of saliva from his mouth to drip lewdly into your own — missing direction ever so slightly and catching partially at the corner of your mouth — Doyoung brings a hand up to thumb at the messy corner before finally closing the distance between both of your mouths and pulling you into a full, intense, passionate kiss — tongue immediately pushing forward to lick at the inside of your mouth — it's breathtaking and intimate in a way that nothing else thus far has been.

And pulling away with a single, thin, string of saliva connecting the two of you by mouth yet, Doyoung's lips curl into a sinister grin as his eyes pull from your own, to your lips, then back up to meet your vision again.

 "Happy to help."

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—part 2!

[quirkthieves]

actually wait this gives me the chance to give everyone the rundown on her. cw for nsfw its gonna come up

Ayano has two iterations: her original, BNHA verse, and her fandomless one, utilized for a personal project of mine called Godhead Death Sentence. For that reason, she has two surnames-- Monoma in her bnha verse, Kanemaru in her ghds one.

She's 40 years old and, unless dynamics for rp dictate otherwise, she is the mother of twins, and not a particularly good one. She's married to a man named Shigeo, who took her last name, and he is possibly one of the most vapid individuals you will ever meet, which indicates that her judgement in life partners is questionable at best, but the two are deeply in love. So there's that. Although their courtship story could've ended in multiple felony charges, but it worked for them. Her childhood was somewhat troubled but financially cushy, and she has a terrible relationship with her own mother. Her father was murdered when she was a child, and she saw the body, although she doesn't consider it a particularly important moment in life. She occasionally dryly comments that "they never particularly liked each other", whatever that means.

She and her husband are also swingers and incredibly open, but no side pieces ever get brought into the main home, and never expect there to be romantic feelings involved. For Ayano, she enjoys finding and dominating powerful individuals because it makes her happy to know that she can exert power over them. Getting involved with the two of them is likely to be enjoyable but will give you deep psychosexual issues you will take to the grave.

In her BNHA verse, she's Ayano Monoma, the CEO of MonoMerch, an inherited company that produces hero merchandise and brokers manufacturing and licensing agreements, among other things. She brought it back from relative obscurity after graduating from UA's Business Course as a star student and a reputation for being "The Devil of Class I", on account of her terrible personality and questionable behavior.

Ayano is not a cruel person, or even a particularly mean person, she's very polite, actually. And usually, she maintains a very strong image of being a small, softspoken woman. However, she is deeply, truly, unconcerned with anything other than profit. True neutral in the worst sense. She will never work for free, and she has no interest in things like morals or integrity. She approaches life with a deep apathy aside from capital gain, and shamelessly so. She stands for nothing. You can always guarantee that her loyalty is a commodity that can be bought, but not for cheap.

Her quirk in her BNHA verse is called "Personal Understanding". It allows her to, after touching someone, become knowledgeable about all aspects of that person's quirk, even details the user doesnt know themself, albeit not considering things like potential awakenings. She can also, within a 15 minute time period of that touch, forcefully activate that person's quirk and even exert some sway in what it does, although not well without practice. This can only last about five minutes in duration, however-- tops. She doesn't utilize her quirk often in a manner that would call for that, so typically her ability to guide the quirk only lasts a matter of seconds.

It's a very useful quirk to law enforcement, education, and healthcare. She does consulting, but not for cheap.

In GHDS, Ayano Kanemaru is a production executive working particularly closely with Emil Szarka-- aka "Jack Dawn", the host of the talkshow JabberJack. She is a witch and member of the SALIGIA coven, and she is contracted to and hosts the demon Mammon, making her the avatar of Greed. Emil, for the record, is the avatar of Envy. They have... an interesting relationship.

The spell she utilizes most often in any kind of combat situation (although she avoids those because theyre a waste of time and energy for the most part and she is 5'0" and not exactly yoked) is one that allows her to create automaton-esque beings to mob or hunt down enemies. They're disposable and range in strength depending on how much she puts into them, but again, it's not like she ends up in situations where they need to be used for fighting often.

Her twin children are older in this verse and go by the code names of Romulus and Arsene, although i havent decided on names yet.

everyone look at her my awful wife who i like so much and feels nothing towards me but disdain