#except instead of playing dead they just die

[florestalio]

HIDE-N-SEEK — l.hs

recently, your town has been getting terrorized by a serial killer, going by the name of 'ghostface'. of course you were scared to be his victim. imagine the sheer terror on your face — and the utter delight on his — when your fear turns out to not have been caused by your paranoia.

GENRE— ghostface au, stalker au

WARNINGS— dubcon, then noncon, and then dubcon again (you'll see what I'm talking about), both reader and heeseung are kinda fucked up, mentions of killing, mentions of stalking, knife play, fear play, reader has tits, reader's pussy gets called 'her' a few times?, fingering, cum eating, slight spit play, spit kink (?), name-calling (baby, slut, bitch, etc.), unprotected sex (don't), blood, blood play, bulge kink, clit pinching, missionary, mating press, kind of an open ending (?), NOT PROOFREAD, let me know if I missed any!

WORDCOUNT— 8.2k

NOTE— among the italicized text, if you see normal text, it basically indicates the opposite. as in, if the entire block of text wasn't italicized, then the normal text would have been in italics instead... if that helps

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

NO ONE WAS SAFE.

No matter where you resided, if Ghostface chose you as his victim, consider yourself to be dead.

No amount of protection, whether it be in the form of weapons or guards, locked doors or high security neighbourhoods — no one was safe from him.

You may ask, who exactly was ‘Ghostface’? Why, he is a renowned serial killer, one who wears a pitch black coat and a creepy mask, paired with white rubber gloves. The last thing his victims see before dying is the creepy ghostface mask smiling down at them — as said by a ghostface victim, who had miraculously survived the attack, only to die hours later in the same hospital at which he was interviewed. Reports say that the victim had been stabbed a total of twenty times, the word ‘Ghostface' carved onto his forehead. Apparently, he didn't appreciate the fact that someone survived him — even if it was only for a few hours.

Which was why everyone was scared to go out, even during the day. Till this date, no one had ever seen his actual face, his entire existence a mystery to everyone except him. He was truly an enigma, the source of both amazement and horror for all.

People were scared to even interact with each other, in case said person turned out to be Ghostface. What if they did something to piss the other person off, resulting in their death — perhaps in just a few hours from the aforementioned incident?

For an introvert like you, avoiding people came easy to you, it being your second nature. You weren't too worried about offending Ghostface, even by mistake. But no one was ever truly safe, not from the hands of a psycho serial killer, were they?

You would often find yourself peeking behind your shoulder at random times of the day, checking if someone was looking at you, or worse, following you. Perhaps it was simply due to your paranoia, combined with the increasing cases of deaths in the hands of Ghostface. Either way, your guard was always up.

You used to stay at the dorms on campus before, even when the deaths had started occurring on a daily basis. It was only after Regina — a girl who you never really liked because of her bitchy attitude — was found one morning by her roommate, completely mauled in her own dorm, lying in a pool of her own blood — did you finally feel terrified enough to move out of them, moving into a house in a slightly secluded region of the town, just around ten blocks away from campus. It wasn't a complete guarantee of your security, but it was better than nothing.

From some of the recent reports, apparently the victims of Ghostface were — stalked by him a few days prior to him killing them. Photos of the victims taken without their knowledge during the week before their death were found with their body. The police declared them to be taken by Ghostface, a fact that left you even more shaken than before.

You didn't have to be afraid of him. You were more than sure that you never did anything to piss anyone off, at least not knowingly. Surely no one could be holding a grudge against you, right? Especially not Ghostface?

Right?

IT WAS A NORMAL FRIDAY NIGHT — or as normal as it could be with the threat of becoming Ghostface’s next victim hanging heavily in the air.

Friday nights used to be the time when you danced, sang, got drunk, and hooked up, all night long at the frat parties that were held religiously every Friday. Now? Now people were afraid to look in other people's direction, in fear of provoking Ghostface.

It was truly remarkable, the way he had everyone in his chokehold. Rumors surrounding him specifically were mostly to blame for this.

See, according to many, Ghostface apparently likes to… toy with his victims before killing them. Exactly how does he toy with them?

According to the rumours, he gives them a phone call, taunting them. His voice is always distorted by a voice modulator, adding to the air of mystery surrounding him.

People were already downright terrified of him, but some people who apparently thought themselves to be hilarious, often mimicked Ghostface's antics — or what the rumours about him said — and called people up randomly, with a voice modulator. They would take advantage of the fact that no one actually knew what it sounded like, terrifying people to the core.

While some did it for pranking purposes, others did it for more malicious intentions, taking advantage of people's fears. It started getting worse and worse, the fakers, that is — until the government finally declared it to be a crime to mimic Ghostface, announcing a long time in jail for anyone who attempted it.

This put a stop to the mimicking, but it only made people grow more antsy. People were always silently waiting till their turn arrived to be Ghostface’s new victim, a fact that thrilled no one, but sent a chill down their spines, everytime they even thought of it.

Tonight was especially dark. The moon was behind the clouds, the eerie darkness causing you to feel more terrified than normal. It wasn't that dark, but with Ghostface out in the open…

You decided to focus on washing the rest of dirty dishes instead, trying to get your mind off the serial killer. You had procrastinated long enough, the dishes starting to pile up. What better way to distract yourself?

You turned on the television, listening to an anime while washing the dishes. Silence scared you, — which was ironic, since you were an introvert with terrible social anxiety — the need to have some kind of sound, in the tiny and isolated house of yours, other than the sound of washing dishes, was extremely high. The only available option on the television was anime, and… well, the news. But no one wants to listen to the news during these times — all the news channels simply showed Ghostface's new victims and their mutilated bodies that lay in a pool of their own blood.

You were done with washing the dishes, putting all the plates away neatly — when suddenly, your phone rang. You peeked at the screen, your lips turning into a frown — it was an unknown number.

You wiped your hands on your pants, picking up the call, putting the phone to your ear. “Hello…? May I know who this is?”

The phone remained silent for an entire minute. Just as you were about to speak again, a somewhat distorted voice came from the other side of the call. “What's your name?”

You frowned. Why was this person asking for your name, when he was the one that called you in the first place? What a fucking weirdo.

You spoke again. “I don't wish to sound rude, but — shouldn't I be the one asking that? I mean, you were the one that called me, you know — not the other way around.”

You heard a chuckle from the other side of the phone. It creeped you out, the sound more menacing than amused. He spoke again, his voice still sounding distorted. “Aren’t you adorable?”

You were starting to feel creeped out now. Your hand was gripping the last plate in your hand tightly, not even noticing how much pressure you were using on it. You spoke in a slightly higher voice, your tone pitchy with a detectable hint of panic. “Listen Mr. Stranger — I don't know who you are, nor am I particularly curious. But you aren't fucking funny, so if you don't have anything of importance to say, I'm hanging up.”

Silence. Again. This guy was really testing your patience.

Finally, he spoke again, his voice lower… still distorted. “I would watch my tone if I were you, sweetheart. It's no way to talk to a… stranger, is it?”

You gulped. He sounded so… ominous, his tone nothing short of menacing. With your anxiety spiking, you spoke again, your voice mostly level except for the slightest tremor to it. “What do you want…?”

The guy on the other side of the call let out a hum. “To know your name, of course. You still haven't told me.”

You let out a shaky breath, your grip on the plate tightening. “But why? What is the importance of my name to you?”

He let out a chuckle, his next words making your blood run cold. “So I can know who I'm looking at.”

You almost dropped the phone, all the colour from your face draining. You managed to speak up in a shaky voice. “C-Cut the act. You're not funny — the government declared jail for the pretenders, yet you're impersonating him–?”

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “But darling, I'm not an impersonator, am I?” His voice grew lower, an underlying threat evident in it. “You don't believe me to be one either.”

Tears stung your eyes, the hand that was clutching the plate starting to shake. You slowly put down the dish, your eyes darting frantically around your living room that was connected to the open kitchen, looking around to spot any potential threat — said ‘threat’ being… Ghostface. Even if you knew that it was pointless. If Ghostface wanted to kill you, he would succeed in doing so — no matter what obstacles he faces. “L-Look Mr. Ghostface — I barely even go out! Even when I do, I mostly keep to myself, I don't even interact with anyone. I'm sure I haven't done anything to piss anyone off — let alone you, even unintentionally! So why…”

Your voice took on a tone of desperate resignation at the end, the subtle acceptance of your fate evident in it. Ghostface cooed at your tone, his own voice sounding like that of an excited child. “Aren't you cute? Don't worry, you didn't piss me off, just — intrigued me. You're always so alone, all by yourself… I just had to find out everything about you, didn't I? You are such a mystery, one I took utter delight in unraveling. It's only fair that I get a prize for my hard work, right ___?”

With each word he spoke, his voice could be heard louder and louder, coming from somewhere around the house. Right as he finished the sentence, the side door of your house, leading to the garden outside, slammed open. Ghostface stood in the doorway, a knife in one hand, a burner phone in the other. He spoke, his voice distorted from the voice modulator.

“Right, ___?”

You let out a loud scream, the tears finally breaking free, as you turned on your heel, getting out of the open kitchen, towards the stairs. You knew from all those horror movies that running into your bedroom would be the worst possible move, but you really had no choice. You could hear him behind you, laughing as he gave chase. “Running off so quickly, darling? Won't you at least give me a greeting, welcome me into your house? That's bad manners, you know. Or did mama not teach you any?”

His voice sounded like two people, speaking at once, one of a real person, the other a distorted voice like those in old radios. It unnerved you, since his voice modulator was probably glitching due to him running. You ran into your bedroom, locking it quickly — just in time for him to bang on the door loudly.

He yelled loudly, his voice bordering on that of manic excitement. “Open the door ___! You know that the bedroom is never a smart move. Or are you a dumb baby that doesn't know the basics of survival?”

His taunting was causing your already scattered thought process even harder to get together, your hands shaking. You looked for a hiding place before he inevitably broke down the door.

Under the bed? A good idea, but he would probably think of the same. But what other hiding places could there possibly…  the closet.

You quickly ran to the closet, throwing open its door. You pushed some of your clothes apart, going far inside, before pulling the clothes in front of you to make it seem as inconspicuous as possible. You sat at the back, your legs pulled up to your chest, your breathing shallow. You realised what a terrible hiding place it was, but it will have to do.

The banging grew more frantic, before he finally managed to kick down the door. You could hear his voice from inside the closet, causing you to still your breathing, to avoid getting caught. His voice was more of a menacing growl, no longer disoriented — maybe his voice modulator ran out of batteries? “Having fun princess? You're so fucking naive if you think hiding here will save you.”

He paced about the room slowly. “Where could you be hiding, hm? I hope it's not–” He dropped to his knees, peeking under the bed. “–under the bed? No, of course not. That would have been too easy. You're naive, but not that much, huh?”

But then he let out a snicker, one that almost caused you to start crying again. You could hear his footsteps again. “Or are you?”

Before you could comprehend the meaning of his words, the closet door was thrown open, his hand grabbing your wrist in a vice-like grip, pulling you out, tearing a scream out of you. “Turns out you are a dumb little bunny after all.”

He tackled your struggling figure to the ground, pinning your legs with his knees on either side of you. He used one of his hands to pin your wrists above your head, his other hand raising the knife, pushing it under your jaw, just a hair-breath shy of cutting into your throat. His voice sounded like a growl, an octave deeper. “Don't you fucking dare move — unless you would like me to slit your pretty little throat open. Trust me, I would take great pleasure in doing so.”

Your movements stilled, your breath coming out in short huffs. Tears were streaming down your face freely, your entire body covered in goosebumps. You stared up at him — at his mask, rather. He tilted his head to the side. “Did you have fun playing hide and seek? I hope you did, because I cannot guarantee that you will be having much fun now — it's my turn to have fun now, afterall.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. You were starting to accept your fate. Any moment now, he would slice the knife across your throat, slitting it in one clean swipe. He would laugh while watching the blood flowing freely from the wound, watching as the life leaves your eyes. It was all just a game for him, after all.

But he seemed to have different plans. He trailed his knife down, under the edge of your shirt. He slipped it inside, the cool metal making contact with your skin, the temperature difference sending a jolt through you. He traced the pointed end on your stomach, before doing something that shocked you — and gave you a hint of his true intentions.

He turned the knife sideways, sharp side facing up, before digging it into your shirt, slicing through it. The knife tore through the fabric like paper, before he threw the ruined fabric in some random corner of the room. You gasped at the cold air, squirming slightly. He pressed the knife above your stomach warningly. “Sit still darling. Or else I won't hesitate to cut up your useless body.”

Tears stung your eyes again at his words. But you stilled, too eager to survive. Your eyes suddenly widened as you saw him slip the knife under the middle part of your bra, before slicing it open. You gasped as he threw the discarded fabric away, the cool air hitting your boobs, your nipples instantly hardening. You were suddenly acutely aware of the precarious position you were in, unable to stop the heat creeping up your neck, as you noticed his intense gaze on your tits.

He gave you a warning look from behind his mask, his knife coming back against your throat. “One wrong move, and your throat will get sliced open.” He let go of your wrists — watching as you kept them in the same place. He smirked under the mask at your pliancy, his gloved hand coming to pinch your hardened nipples.

You let out a tiny shriek of surprise at the feeling of his rubber clad fingers groping you, unable to resist a whimper as he squeezed your mounds. He was merciless in the way he groped you, squeezing and pinching, completely unaffected by your whimpers and gasps — it was exhilarating.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hold back a whine, as he twisted your nipple in between his fingers. You desperately tried to ignore the heat that was pooling down in your lower stomach, your heart racing.

He pinched your nipple again, squeezing your left tit roughly. He felt you shudder underneath him, the usual thrill that came with threatening his victims, running through his veins.

Yet, there was something else — an almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing, a flicker of… heat in your eyes, despite the situation you were in. Curious, he slightly moved his knife away from your throat, but not enough to make you feel any less threatened. “What's this…?”

You looked into the eyes of his mask, gulping audibly. He pinched your nipple again, tearing out a whine from you. His eyes narrowed at your reaction. He wasn't dumb — he knew when someone was turned on. But… in this situation? With a knife to your throat? Your life in his hands? It made no sense. Still — his body responded, his pants tightening.

He slowly dragged the knife down, in between your breasts, pausing at your stomach. He looked up at your face, searching for any sign of fear, or even defiance — nothing.

Instead, he saw your lips parted slightly, your breath hitching — he swore he saw your pupils dilate. He let out a shaky breath, his voice laced in disbelief. “You…”

His grip tightened noticeably, curiosity and annoyance warring in his expression. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" The realization sent a jolt of dark excitement through him. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Sick bitch.”

You let out a whimper, shaking your head frantically, in denial of the whole situation. Still, your thighs rubbed together involuntarily, trying to quell the ache between them.

An almost menacing chuckle escaped him as he registered your movement. His free hand moved to pin your thighs down, trapping them between his own once again. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, feeling his control slip. "You're really getting off on this?”

You let out a whine, squirming slightly. He stared down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never been this close to losing control before. But the way you were reacting, the way you were looking at him — it was driving him insane.

"I should cut you," he growled, the knife trembling against your stomach. Your eyes fluttered slightly at the threat, a slow exhale leaving you. You couldn't understand your own body. Why, the fuck, were you reacting the way you were?

He blinked rapidly, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. The knife lowered incrementally. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" His voice was incredulous, though tinged with reluctant awe. "Getting turned on by someone threatening you?”

Your eyes stung with tears at his words, your body reacting in the completely opposite manner — your thighs clenched, an almost pitiful whimper leaving you.

He watched your body language, the tears welling up in your eyes — a strange mix of emotions hit him. He dropped the knife to his side, as one of his gloved hands slid up to grip your jaw firmly. "You're fucked up." He whispered, anger and desire clashing in his voice.

You gulped, only just realising that your hands were free. Yet you made no attempt to move them.

His grip tightened on your jaw, leaning in until his face was almost touching yours — his mask, rather. His breath was ragged, mingling with yours. "Is this what you wanted?" he snarled, though the bite was gone from his voice, replaced by confusion, mixed with arousal. "To get me all worked up?”

You whimpered at the pressure on your jaw, your nails digging into your palm, as you clenched your fists. You were so, so painfully aroused.

A rough sound caught in his throat as he stared down at you, fighting an internal battle. He originally just wanted to play with you a little, make you feel worthless — like trash that he could easily dispose of. Disposing you was exactly what he had planned to do, although now that plan was no longer going to be put into action — at least for the time being. 

He threw the knife away, causing it to clatter to the floor. His other hand moved to your hip, digging into the flesh there. "You little…”

You winced at his grip, your nose scrunching up in pain. You stared up at him, tears still evident in your waterline.

That was his last straw. He took off his mask, allowing you a brief glimpse of his face. His last semblance of control shattered, as he cut himself off, his mouth crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. His tongue forced its way in, tangling with yours demandingly. He kissed you like he was trying to punish you, to make you pay for the effect you were having on him.

Your eyes widened in shock, as you gasped loudly into the kiss. You tried to kiss him back, to match his pace — all in vain. His lips were punishing, intending to make it hurt for you. Unfortunately all it did was make you crave for more.

He finally broke the kiss, panting heavily as he rested his forehead against yours. His heart was racing, his mind reeling. "What the fuck is going on…?" he muttered, his voice shaking with a combination of anger and awe. "You're supposed to be scared, not turned on."

You gulped. Your senses were starting to blur, all of them zeroing in on his touch and his voice. It was painstakingly weird how you were reacting — how he was reacting to you. But damn, you enjoyed it — so fucking much.

He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes with a fierce intensity. "Say something, fuck. Explain this." His hands remained gripping you, betraying his conflicted desire and frustration. "I'm trying to terrify you and instead..." He trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

When you didn't immediately respond, he growled low in his throat. His hands tightened around you, his body pressed flush against yours. "Fucking talk, you little bitch. Tell me why the fuck you're so turned on right now."

Your breath hitched, your mind going blank. He was insulting you, his voice carrying disgust — you fucking loved it.

A dark smirk crossed his face at your breath hitching, his thumb brushing across your lower lip. "Look at that — all worked up, can't form words…" He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Does it make your pussy throb when I threaten you?"

Your eyes widened at the sudden crude language and the bluntness in his voice, your skin pricking, panties practically sticking to your cunt. He was right — your pussy did indeed throb when he threatened you.

Suddenly, you realised that you recognised him. He was Heeseung, one of the most popular guys at your college.

You remembered having interacted with him just once, when he bumped into you back in your first year. He was your senior, who immediately apologised to you after that, helping you pick up your books. He walked with you for a while after that, forcefully engaging you in small talk. He didn't seem to mind your short answers or your eagerness to get rid of him at all, continuing to talk — until a friend of his called him to go to class, causing him to reluctantly stop his rambling, waving you bye and leaving.

You remembered finding out all about him that very day during recess, overhearing his name from the table next to yours in the cafeteria. It was a group of girls, who seemed to be gossiping in what they thought were hushed voices… only, they weren't. You could hear every word.

They were specifically talking about Heeseung, about how hot he was, how smart he was — both book smart and street smart. You remembered mentally rolling your eyes at their fawning, before a certain piece of information had caught your interest.

They mentioned him to be a prude, never showing interest in going into relationships or even casual hook ups. Apparently, he had never gone on a date with anyone, politely turning down everyone who asked. It seemed rather odd of him, since he seemed like the dream package.

This incident had occurred a year before the killings first started. Nevertheless, Heeseung was never the kind of guy who seemed to be capable of something as shockingly gruesome as this. The thought made you sick to your stomach, a nasty feeling under your skin.

You snapped back into the present time, looking up at him, truly looking at him. He barely looked anything like the Heeseung you met during freshman year. His smirk grew wider at the sudden realization on your face, his hand moving to gently squeeze your throat. He was going to have to have a talk with you about college later on. Right now, he had more important things to focus on. For instance, how aroused you were from your life being threatened. "Yeah, that's it. Your little heart races and your pussy gets so fucking wet when I scare you." He leaned back to look at you, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light.

He watched your throat bob as you swallowed, his hand still gently squeezing. "You're a fucking mess, you know that?" Heeseung leaned in again, his lips just a hair's breadth from yours. "A little slut who gets off on being threatened.” His words were a whisper against your lips, his breath hot against your skin. "And you know what the worst part is? I think I might actually like it." He pulled back, his gaze boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

You stared up at him, your breathing slightly shallow, begging him with your eyes to touch you. Heeseung let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable." His hand slid from your throat, trailing down your chest teasingly. "Here I am, supposedly threatening you, but we both know it's me who should be terrified.”

Your back arched into his touch, a small whine leaving you. He chuckled darkly at your reaction, his fingers brushing over the swell of your breasts. "Look at that — arching into my touch like a fucking bitch in heat." His hand continued down, tracing the curves of her body possessively.

You whined at his words, your back arching even more. You let out whimpers, shaky exhales leaving you. His eyes flashed with wicked amusement at the sound. "Oh, listen to those whimpers. Pathetic." He pinched your nipple abruptly, twisting just to the point of pain. "You're so fucking desperate for it, aren't you?”

You let out a loud gasp of pain, your body jolting — yet your body begged for more, a whimper eliciting from you the very next second. A smug grin spread across his face as he watched you whimper. "Five seconds ago I was trying to scare you, now look at you fucking trembling for my touch." He bent down, his lips grazing against your neck, as he nipped at your skin. "What does that make you?”

You gulped. His teeth dragged over your pulse point, marking your skin. "It makes you a needy little slut, doesn't it?" His hand finally reached your thigh, gripping it possessively. "A slut who can't get enough of my touch, no matter how much she pretends to be afraid.”

You whined, begging for more. "Mmm… that whine is fucking music to my ears." He abruptly lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist as he pressed his hard cock against you. "Don't you see what you do to me? All of that bullshit where you pretended to be scared…”

You let out a shaky moan, pressing back against him. Heeseung silenced you with a brutal kiss, biting your lip to keep you quiet as he rubbed himself against you through your clothes. "You think I'm scary?" He growled, his hands roaming over your body possessively.

You let out sharp gasps, your voice coming out shaky. “A b-bit–?”

He bit your bottom lip harder, pulling back with your lip caught between his teeth. "Shut. Up." His voice was rough, commanding. "You don't get to smart-mouth me while you're practically dripping." He let your lip go with a sharp tug, making you whimper.

You bit your lip to muffle any further noises. His eyes darkened dangerously as he noticed your silence, one hand capturing both wrists above your head once again, while the other trailed down to your center. "Not going to lie, but princess? The way you just submitted to me like that?" He pressed against you meaningfully. "Fucking hot.”

You whimpered at his touch, your hips bucking up, pressing into his hand. He pushed his hand inside your shorts, his fingers finding her soaked panties, rubbing against your clit through the fabric. "So fucking wet. And you know what?" He rubbed faster, his thumb pressing against your clit. "I fucking love it." He released your wrists to grab your face, forcing you to look at him.

You let out a loud whimper at his sudden grip. His fingers continued their torturous rhythm, watching your expression carefully. "You're supposed to be terrified, remember?" He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Shouldn't you be trying to push me away instead of grinding against my fingers like a good little slut?”

You bit your lip, staring into his eyes, trying to prevent yourself from moaning out loud. His free hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you flush against him, as he continued his movements. "You're a fucking liar." He growled, his fingers moving faster. "Admit it. You're not afraid of me. You're so fucking turned on.”

You let out a choked moan, grinding back onto his fingers. He grinned sadistically, his fingers finally moving your panties aside to slip inside you. "Mmm, look at that." He curled his fingers, hitting your g-spot perfectly.

You let out a loud gasp, your back arching. You could see stars at the back of your eyes, that's how good it felt. He thrust his fingers deeper, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. "You're so fucking tight. And wet." He leaned down to bite your neck, hard, sucking a bruise on your skin. "I bet my dick would fit perfectly in this pretty little cunt.”

You clenched around his fingers at his words, the thought of it making you crave even more. His fingers continued their relentless pace, feeling you clench around him. "You haven't answered me." His voice was low and dangerous. "Is that silence because you're afraid? Or because the thought of me fucking you is making you even wetter?”

You gulped, choosing to stay silent. He nuzzled against your neck, his breath hot against your skin, as he spoke. "Let me make it easier for you. Answer this." He thrust his fingers deeper. "Am I scaring you? Or turning you on even more than before?”

You let out a moan at the feeling of his fingers hitting deeper. His fingers curled harder, hitting your g-spot perfectly. "Ah, fuck, that's it." He pulled his fingers out, using the wetness to rub against your clit before shoving them back inside. "You're turned on. Impossibly so.”

He pulled his fingers out again, this time using his thumb to rub your clit in tight circles. "You're so fucking turned on, you can't even answer properly." He pressed two fingers back inside you, curling them to hit her g-spot again.

You let out a loud moan. He chuckled darkly as he felt your moan vibrate through your body. "That's it, princess. Don't hold back." He pumped his fingers harder, the wet squelching noises filling the room. "Your pussy is practically begging to be fucked.”

He added a third finger, stretching your cunt further. "Fuck, look at her." He pulled his fingers out, rubbing your clit with all three before shoving them back inside. "Your cute little cunt is starving for my dick.”

Heeseung increased his pace, fucking you with his fingers mercilessly. "Come all over my fingers," He growled in her ear. "Show me how badly you want it." He bit down harder on your neck, hitting your g-spot perfectly as he curled his fingers.

You let out a loud mewl, your eyes rolling back into your head. You clenched around his fingers, the band in your stomach starting to coil impossibly tight. The squelching noises from where his fingers slid in and out of you at a fast pace, did absolutely nothing, but cause an embarrassed flush to creep all over your face and neck.

He pressed down on your clit with his thumb, rubbing on it sloppily. Your abundant slick helped him do just that, the pace of his fingers growing harsher, mirroring his buddying frustration. A low growl bubbled in his throat, as he forced his fingers to go in deeper, trying to practically force an orgasm out of you. Needless to say, he succeeded soon enough, your back arching with a loud cry, your pussy clamping down on his fingers, your release practically gushing around them.

“That's it…” He coaxed, his fingers still pumping in and out of you, drawing out your release. “Look so pretty like this, all pliant for me.”

Your head was empty, completely devoid of all thoughts, your legs shaking slightly from the overstimulation. He let out a snicker at your state, bringing his hand up, in front of his face. He locked eyes with you, spreading his fingers, letting you see the strings of arousal clinging to them.

Upon seeing your flushed face, a smirk creeped up on his. Maintaining eye contact with you, he leisurely started licking his fingers clean. He dragged his tongue from the bottom of his finger to the top, collecting your cum on it, his saliva replacing it on your fingers.

Your eyes fluttered slightly, mouth parting. Heeseung took that as his que to grab your jaw and hold it open — with the same hand that he had stuffed inside you just moments ago — pushing his thumb inside, pressing down on your tongue. Holding your mouth open, he gathered a wad of spit with his tongue, before leaning down and spitting right into your open mouth. He watched with hooded eyes, as your own rolled back into your head, his spit dripping down to the back of your throat.

You could feel a tingling in your pussy again, empty, aching to be stuffed. Maybe with something more than just his fingers. He noticed the slight change in your body language almost immediately, of course he did — but who was he to deny you, when you were being so good for him?

Heeseung gave you a stern look. “Behave. Be a good girl, and keep still for me, hm?”

You could only gulp in response, as he released your jaw. You watched, as he shook off the black coat — or costume, whatever it was supposed to be. You kept still, your wrists still above your head, your fists clenching tightly, mimicking your thighs. Your eyes raked over his bare torso, your gaze trailing down — eventually resting on his extremely obvious hard on in his boxers. A large patch was already forming on its front from his precum, his cock straining hard against the fabric, begging to be released.

He smirked at your gaze. Teasingly, he ran his palm over his bulge, feeling it twitch under his hand. “Like what you see baby?”

You gulped, your eyes snapping up to his own. Your breath sped slightly, wanting to do something risky. Your life was still very much in danger, but you were willing to take the risk for now.

You slowly sat up, your face now extremely close to his. He raised a brow, an unimpressed gleam in his eyes. Yet, there was a curiosity in them — wanting to know your next move.

Although your next move didn't really impress him. Quite the opposite.

You raised your hand, slowly inching it closer to his boner. His eyes narrowed at your audacity. In a flash, he reached to his side, and picked up the discarded knife, holding it to your throat. He glared down at you, a cold, calculating look in his eyes. “Lay. Back. Down. Unless you want me to slit your throat, cut the rest of your body up, and use your blood as lube to fuck your corpse?”

Your eyes widened at his words, your hand freezing mid air, before quickly falling back to your side. Upon receiving another pointed glare from him, you laid back down, mindful of the knife that was back in his hands. You wanted him — no, needed him to fuck you — you, not your future possibly no-longer-breathing corpse.

Upon ensuring that you weren't up to anymore tricks, he once again put the knife away — out of your reach, but not out of his. Heeseung shrugged off his boxers, his cock immediately slapping against his stomach. It left a trail of precum, which he gathered on his fingers, before wrapping that same hand around his dick. He started to slowly pump it, using his own precum to slick it up.

Noticing your almost pitifully needy expression, he let out an amused scoff, before holding out his hand under her mouth. “Spit.” He ordered in a gruff voice.

Your eyes widened slightly at his command, before you hesitantly obeyed. Gathering a wad of saliva in your mouth, you spit it into his hand, watching with hooded eyes, as he used it to jerk himself off faster.

Once he was done, he spread your thighs again, letting out a confused grunt at how much more force he needed to use as compared to last time. He glared up at you. “You and I both know you want this, princess. So stop trying to deny me what I hunted you for. Or else…”

You bit your lip to suppress a whimper. Were you sick for getting even wetter at his words? Definitely. Should you tell him to stop and possibly escape whatever he was going to do? Obviously. Will you do it? Absolutely not.

In fact, an absolutely brilliant idea struck your magnificent brain. You decided to not obey him. Him, the renowned serial killer, Ghostface. Were you basically signing your own death certificate? Well… no harm in finding out, right?

You tried to close your legs shut, something which immediately earned you a nasty glare from him. His jaw clenched tightly, as he forcefully shoved your legs apart again. His hand reached for the knife, your eyes widening at the sight. “Seems like someone hasn't learnt their lesson yet…”

You tried to beg him to not hurt you, but the words died in your throat when he pressed the knife to it. A creepy smile adorned his face, as he caressed your face in a gentle manner, a sharp contrast to the knife to your throat. “Let me spell it out for you–” Right as he said those words, he grabbed your wrists tightly, holding you under him firmly, the knife lifting from your throat. You got confused for a second, before a scream tore out of you.

He was carving something on your stomach.

He shallowly carved his initials onto your stomach, laughing as you screamed. “Squirming will only make it hurt more~” He almost sang, his tone causing you to sob.

He was finally done, watching the blood flow out of the wound, almost moaning at the sight. “Fuck baby, do you even realise how hot you look right now?”

You hated it, every single bit of it. You didn't want him to fuck you anymore, hell, you felt ashamed of yourself for ever wanting it. You felt disgusted beyond words by yourself, for having him carve his initials on your stomach to make you realise the kind of guy you were dealing with. He wasn't some hot fictional guy from the books you read, he was an actual serial killer — someone who could quite literally kill you as and when he pleased.

Heeseung seemed to sense your inner monologue. He snickered. “Suddenly regretting everything baby? That's cute… it's as if you believe you had a choice in this in the first place. Cute.”

You wanted to scream, cry, sob — all at the same time. How did you even manage to get yourself into this mess?

You didn't have much time to ponder, as he suddenly sliced his knife through your panties, finally ripping them off you. He shrugged off his own boxers, rubbing the tip of his cock along the arousal coating your puffy folds. A shiver ran down your spine, causing you to bite down on your lip. You hated it, you didn't want it — but your body couldn't deny how good it felt.

Heeseung wasn't any less affected than you. He let out a groan, his eyes shutting briefly. “See how good that feels baby? You think you don't want it, but your body says something different. See how your pussy keeps dripping all over my cock?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears welling up in them — tears from exactly what, you didn't know. Was it embarrassment? Pain? Pleasure? Neither did you know, nor were you keen on finding out.

With his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, he slowly pushed himself in, groaning from how easily he slid in, thanks to your slick. He let out a rough noise from the back of his throat. “Look at how your cunt is sucking me in like a slut. You sure you don't want this, baby?”

His knife had returned to your throat, his other hand gripping your hip. You could only bite your lip to muffle a whimper, your tears having broken free. He felt — good. You just wished this happened under different circumstances. When he wasn't cutting you up or threatening your life as Ghostface, maybe.

He bottomed out, burying himself to the hilt. He let out a groan, his eyes falling to your stomach. They widened, noticing something other than his initials he had just carved on it. There was a bulge on your stomach. “Holy shit…”

As if in a trance, he pressed down on it with his hand that wasn't holding the knife, watching as you involuntarily arched your back. He let out a laugh in disbelief. “Would you look at that? Had no idea you were this sexy, princess.”

He didn't wait to see your reaction, pulling out slowly, before slamming back inside. He watched your body jerk at the force, the bulge disappearing and reappearing. It was so, so hot.

He put the knife away, just out of reach of you. He gripped your hips with both hands, once again pulling almost completely out, watching as the bulge disappeared, before slamming back in, watching it reappear. He effectively tore a moan out of you this time, watching in amusement as you quickly slammed a hand onto your mouth, your eyes looking mortified. It was as if you were still trying to convince yourself that you didn't want this.

You were so cute. So. Fucking. Cute.

He pulled out again, pushing back in with much more force than before, setting a fast pace. He watched with a perverse amusement, as you let out a choked scream, flailing your arms above your head aimlessly, as if looking for something to grab on to. He fastened his pace, grunts leaving his throat with every thrust.

Your screaming was gradually turning into moans, the undeniable pleasure coursing through you making your head spin. It didn't help how the room was filled with wet slapping sounds from where the two of you kept connecting, the sting from the cut on your stomach barely there anymore. You felt hot, an insatiable thirst in your pussy, being quenched by his unforgiving pace.

His thrusts never once faltered, the bruising grip that he had on your hips starting to hurt — just a bit. He let out a small groan, his eyes once again falling on your stomach, the bulge disappearing and reappearing in it at a comically fast pace. “Hah — look s’fucking cute like t-this — just lying there like a pliant little whore — taking my cock — fuck–”

He was cut off by your pussy clenching around him, his groan cutting through the constant wet slapping from where you both kept connecting. Encouraged by reaction, he sped up, reaching an almost animalistic pace.

Your head was starting to go blank from his pace, the way he continued to pound into your sobbing cunt had you seeing stars. His name left your mouth in a breathy moan, causing his eyes to pop out, him almost spilling his load inside you right then and there.

Without stopping his unforgiving pace, he grabbed your jaw in one hand, his nails digging into your cheeks. “Say it again — c'mon baby, moan my name again — let me hear you, fuck–”

He was cut off by you whimpering, the unmistakable sound of his name leaving your mouth for the second time. With a growl, he gripped both of your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders. The new position allowed him to reach deeper, hitting your spot with every thrust. It had you seeing stars, uncontrollable moans and his name falling from your lips like a mantra.

He reached one of his hands down to rush harsh circles on your hardened bundle of nerves, trying to force an orgasm out of you. “C'mon baby, cum for me — squeeze my cock harder, fucking cum for me–”

The band in your stomach tightened to an impossible level, ready to snap. He pinched your clit, hard, continuing to rub dizzying circles around it. He delivered a harsh slap to it, causing you to finally topple over the edge.

Your ears were filled with a loud ringing noise, vision going white. You clenched around his length, gripping it in a vice like grip. Your cum flowed around his length, coating it completely. He groaned, as he kept pumping in and out of you, a white ring forming at the base of his cock. The sight had him pistoning out of you at a ridiculously fast pace, before burying himself to the hilt inside you. Warm, thick ropes of cum erupted from his tip, painting your insides white. He slowly grinded his hips, still inside you, ensuring that none of it fell out.

He stayed like that for a moment, before pulling out his softening length with a hiss. He fucked his cum back inside with his fingers, enjoying the way your body racked with shudders, little whines escaping you from the sensitivity.

He slowly sat up, admiring your spread out body. He brushed his hand through your hair, rubbing the sweat off your forehead. “You know,” He started, looking down at you with an unsettling smile. “I never fucked anyone I was going to kill before. Never felt attracted enough to them. But you–” He hesitated for a second, before speaking again. “I used to have a crush on you back in college. Remember when I bumped into you once? It was on purpose. I needed an excuse to talk to you. It really hurt me when I realised that you weren't interested in doing so, you know? You were the reason I never went out with anyone, either.”

You gulped, staring back at him. He had an unreadable expression on his face. “I started this — this killing streak, to get your attention. But then I started enjoying it too much — fantasizing what you would look like, all cut up and bleeding prettily for me, begging for me to let you live. It got me so fucking hard, you know? Jerked myself off to that thought so many nights. Until tonight — I knew I had to get you — kill you. Play with you a little first. Didn't think it would escalate to this though.”

He grinned, his eyes holding a kind of craziness that sent a chill down your spine. “Maybe I won't kill you…” He murmured, his hand caressing your cheek. “I’ll just… keep you. My pretty little toy, mine to use and play with, as and how I feel like. Isn't that right, princess?”

[wfuckshit42]

here's my hot take

[unpretty]

not going to tack this onto @derinthescarletpescatarian's post because it was long enough but here is my understanding of some of the various subgenres commonly encountered in light novels/web novels/licensed webtoons:

isekai: another world. if they end up in a different world it's an isekai. it doesn't matter how they got there. sometimes the other world is explicitly a video game the protagonist is playing. they're not dead or anything, just in virtual reality. they go home at night and it's fine.

portal fantasy: it does matter how they got there, actually. they went through a portal of some kind. wherever they end up, they keep their minds and bodies. maybe in the other world they have powers, but maybe not.

progression fantasy: they are going to level up like a video game character. there may or may not be an actual leveling up mechanic. they might just get stronger or acquire more wealth and powerful allies as it goes on. they will always kick more ass. hundreds of beavers is a progression fantasy.

litrpg: western term for 'the characters explicitly have video game mechanics'. there is probably a System of some kind. characters are aware of levels and power tiers. most controversial subgenre, lots of people hate this.

dungeon break/monster hunter: dungeons or portals appear in the real world, some people get powers that let them fight the monsters. lots of people try to tell me this is just litrpg but i argue that they are distinct subgenres with significant overlap. not every litrpg is this. you can probably find traditionally published american versions of this pre-dating video games and the litrpg concept.

transmigration: this is when truck-kun intervenes. there are other ways it can happen, but usually a character dies (hit by a truck is the most common trope) and wakes up in a different body. usually an isekai, usually it's into a story or video game, but it doesn't always have to be.

regression: a character dies, but instead of dying, they wake up as their younger self with all their memories from before their death. this is explicitly not an isekai, except when someone gets fucky with it and reveals that a transmigrator was actually also a regressor the whole time.

loop: if they regress more than once it turns into a loop. this is distinct because sometimes with regressors they just have the one chance to not fuck things up this time. some loop stories also have characters transmigrating a bunch of times.

villain isekai: usually transmigration. oh no i died and woke up as the bad guy in a story! now i gotta try not to fucking die!!!

romfan: romance fantasy. it gets called romfan instead of romantasy because it came first and is being translated probably.

otome isekai: also usually transmigration and also often romfan. you are now the prettiest princess and all the boys want to kiss you. i assume there's a 'harem' version of this For Men but i don't read those and can't tell you anything about them.

villainess isekai: usually a combination of the above three. most likely to be very meta and funny. i have a weakness for these ones.

divorce revenge: there might be a real name for this but i don't know it. sometimes this is paired with regression but not always, but it's very often a kind of progression fantasy. features a woman divorcing her shitty husband and then living her best life, which keeps getting better as her husband has to watch her kick ass and then cry about how he blew it. there are so many of these.

childcare fantasy: i think this includes both the ones where someone transmigrates into a baby, and the ones where they transmigrate to take care of a baby. i don't like this genre enough to check. but 'formerly abused child gets loved and coddled and anyone who tries to hurt them suffers' is a major component of this subgenre.

there's definitely more but my attention span has waned. here's some comics that are on my reading list after the cut, there's going to be undescribed screenshots because i'm lazy. you may need to find these elsewhere if you don't want to deal with tapas or webtoon and their paywalling systems.

The Greatest Estate Developer: transmigration villain isekai and progression fantasy with litrpg elements. architect uses his knowledge to save his own ass and also his new family, gets powers, everyone will unionize whether they like it or not.

Lout of the Count's Family: transmigration villain isekai and progression fantasy. ends up in otome isekai recommendations a lot despite technically not being an otome, on account of the eye candy and shipping potential. the webnovel has turned into like six different genres by now and is asspull central but i read it anyway. protag says he just wants to save his own ass so he can relax but does it by coughing up blood constantly.

The S-Class Hunters That I Raised: regression dungeon break litrpg. guy with shitty powers regresses and has to figure out how to make his power of taking care of people suck less, turns out it's OP as all hell.

Villains are Destined to Die: villainess transmigration otome isekai, maybe a little litrpg? there's definitely a system. protag just wants to go home because the visual novel she's in is notoriously difficult and she is at constant risk of being murdered. i like this one so much i own it in print.

Marriage of Convenience: regression romfan. not an isekai!! protag hated her life and died in poverty and shame after her husband died, this time she's going to try not doing that.

Villainesses Have More Fun: villainess transmigration otome isekai and progression fantasy. protag is very excited to be the villainess because she was the best character. she loves being rich. unfortunately at least one plot point raises the question 'why is that boy white'

Beware the Villainess: villainess transmigration otome isekai, meta as all hell, extremely meme-able faces, does not end in an OT3 but should have.

Baroness Goes On Strike: regression romfan, also not an isekai. protag wanted a divorce on her deathbed but woke up on the first night of her marriage, wants her life to suck less this time through the power of being assertive.

The Perks of Being a Villainess: villainess transmigration otome isekai and progression fantasy. protag has resting villainess face and progresses through the power of advanced math, unregulated capitalism, and abuse of the patent and copyright systems.

I Think I've Been Possessed Somewhere: transmigration isekai starring a main character who's read so much romance fantasy that she doesn't actually know what genre she's in because everything is too generic. meta as all hell.

Your Throne: villainess, sort of transmigrator? the crafty politically-savvy villainess bodyswaps with the naive saintess heroine, shit gets dark real fast, probably not going to end with girls kissing despite my hopes and dreams.

The Remarried Empress: divorce revenge romfan. you see this one referenced a lot in the comments of other romfans because everyone hates Rashta, the waif that the emperor divorces the empress for.

Raising My Fiance With Money: romfan, fake dating, sort of a divorce revenge except it's her ex-fiance. no isekai elements at all, but the protag is ridiculously lucky with money, comically wealthy, and supported by her doting family despite having terrible taste in men. her love interest is a teddy bear with resting murder face.

When The Third Wheel Strikes Back: transmigrator isekai. the protag never actually read the book, he only knows about it through osmosis because it's hugely popular and his sister is a big fan. one of the only things he knows is that in a recent update his character dies. also, it was already a transmigrator isekai before he got there. he isekai'd into an isekai. so much of the worldbuilding suggests a canon ot3 but i refuse to get my hopes up.

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint: it's sort of a dungeon break. not really an isekai but kind of. litrpg, sure. there's regressors. there's transmigrators. there's a lot going on. kim dokja was the only reader of a terrible, ridiculously long webnovel that now appears to be coming true. the official adaptation appears to be making the webnovel less queer overall. i read the webtoon until i got impatient enough to force my way through the sometimes clunky webnovel translations. it's hard to explain orv because it's a story about stories. consuming stories, telling stories, stories told about you, becoming a story, the cost of a story. it is so long. there is so much happening. the story is resolved in the epilogue you might skip if you didn't know any better. some people find it too confusing while others read homestuck.

[pinkberrytea]

He had tasted you once; now, he craves every inch of your being, his hunger insatiable.

Little death—a gift he bestowed upon her, and which she bestows upon him in turn. As her lifeblood touches his lips, Astarion reminisces about the fateful eve when he first sank his fangs into her pretty neck.

Come, gentle night; and when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars.

Astarion x Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 3.1k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: i can't be the only one who is convinced my man is down bad since the very first bite, right? he is so interesting to me! i wanted to explore this idea further, hopefully i did it justice. thank you for reading!

( part 2 here )

tags: blood drinking; fluff & smut; possessive behavior; masturbation; body worship; mildly dubious consent; dry humping; somnophilia

“Later on, when we are at rest, I will eat you right up. Just enough to give me strength, and just enough to leave you wishing for more.”

Footsteps. You hear them approaching, although in your half-unconscious torpor, you can’t tell if they’re near or far. You’re likewise unsure of what has disturbed your sleep, even if as of late, nights have been restless and plagued by nightmares, the worm etched in the recesses of your brain a constant, unforgiving reminder of your plight. Your mind is still hazy, fragments of your dreams clouding your thoughts, so you rely on your primal instincts instead—you smell nothing but the crisp evening air, feel nothing but the cool breeze caressing your warm body, see nothing but endless darkness from behind your closed eyelids, but your ears don’t fail you. You instinctively hold your breath, muscles tensed, staying as still as possible as if playing dead; the footsteps are now almost upon you, the crunching of leaves growing louder and muffling the noise of the crickets singing, and your skin becomes covered in goosebumps in anticipation, the pit of your stomach twisting and turning. Whoever it is, you seem to be their intended target.

Suppressing the mounting panic rising within your chest, you try to gather your bearings and make sense of the situation. You know where you are—Elturgard, or more specifically, a camp in the wilderness, somewhere between Elturel and Baldur’s Gate. Finding a cure for the parasite wriggling in your head is the reason you’re here, and the companions with whom you’re sharing your camp are afflicted by the same condition. Ah, your companions—the footsteps must belong to one of them, surely. The soothing heat of the campfire has significantly dwindled compared to how it was when you turned in, its crackling so low you can barely hear it, and the night is sufficiently chilly that your bedroll fails to offer enough shelter, so you wonder if they are about to tend to the dying flames, or maybe ask you to help them do so. You wait expectantly, pricking up your ears, but suddenly, the crunching sounds come to a halt, and you sense a presence looming over you. A shiver runs down your spine, and your heart starts beating faster, thumping so loudly you’re afraid it may give away your awakened state. The presence silently kneels down beside you, crawling even closer, too close for comfort; and then, you feel it—cold digits ghosting over your cheek, their featherlight touch almost tentatively soft.

Astarion.

Now you remember. You offered to let him feed on you earlier, a habit which you’ve unexpectedly picked up in recent days, although the reason for such eludes you. Perhaps it was his pained expression when he asked you the first time, or maybe something else—you’re not entirely certain, but the fact of the matter is, he is here, except unlike other nights, you are fully aware of your surroundings. Not only that, it has been no more than a fortnight since your little tryst in that pretty clearing, which it seems both of you are intent on pretending never happened. You more so than him—it would be insincere of you to claim you haven’t noticed the dangerous glint in his eyes, how he leans closer when you talk, the cunning smirks and wistful glances. Truth be told, you’re still unsure what to make of it all; none of it is how you expected it would be, not your time together, and certainly not the aftermath. Him, too—though it may be bold of you to assume so, you can’t help but think that his show of vulnerability, however brief, had not been intentional. Ever so often you idly muse over the raw perplexity etched across his face when you invited him to drink from you then, how he looked at you in utter disbelief, letting the mask of a debonair lover slip for a split second; how his kisses became more fervent, his touches less calculated, the confusion never truly seeming to leave him until you were done. And then, the morning after—the hurt in his voice, the complex feelings he appeared to be trying to suppress seeping from every word, as if he had been prepared for anything and everything but genuine yearning, and you ruined it all for him.

“This isn’t about hunger. It’s about pleasure.”

The digits on your cheek slide downwards, gliding across the curve of your jaw and towards your slender neck, where they stop for a brief moment, only to then press down on it, feeling around as if searching for something—an artery, pulsing so very tantalizingly with your precious crimson, a feast set out entirely for him. With his other hand, he gently runs his fingers through your hair and brushes it behind your shoulder, exposing his prize, and repositioning himself to straddle you, he lowers his head until his mouth is hovering right above it. He stays like this for a while, and your blood runs cold as it dawns on you that he may have noticed you are not asleep, but before long, his skin finally comes into contact with yours—however, rather than the sharp pain you’d been expecting, you feel only the pillowy softness of his lips; a tender kiss, which is then followed by another, and then another. One of his hands stays tangled in your hair, cradling your head, and he splays the other on the ground beside you to support himself. His fangs lightly graze the throbbing vein with each peck, almost teasingly, until finally, he sinks them into the sensitive flesh, carefully and steadily so as not to wake you. The uncomfortable sensation is not foreign to you, although it is clear he has become more accustomed to this, even if you have not; his technique has significantly improved, and after the initial stab, it hardly hurts anymore, other than a dull ache every time he swallows, which he does quite enthusiastically.

“Just you and me and—well, maybe a little death?”

Letting out low grunts and guttural moans as he drinks, Astarion sucks ever so vigorously, seemingly more at ease due to your apparent lack of consciousness. Your face gradually grows warmer as you notice tension building up low in your stomach, the noises he makes and the feeling of his plush lips and wet tongue against your skin causing your body to react with pathetic wantonness. You try to stifle the impending arousal, doing your best to remind yourself that he is only feeding, nothing more, nothing less; until you notice the hand on which he had been leaning make its way from its place on the ground to rest on your waist, gingerly moving upwards until his long fingers brush against the plump of one of your breasts, almost as if by accident—it is, however, no accident when two of them then pinch a pebbling nipple through the thin fabric of your nightshirt, delicately massaging the pert nub while the others knead the squishy surrounding flesh. The ache between your legs swells with desire, and you flusteredly bite back the whimper threatening to escape the confines of your closed mouth; believing you to be deep in slumber, he has no reason for such restraint, and his vocalizations increase in frequency and volume alike. 

Having to now use his upper body strength to keep himself propped up, he decides to instead gently fall on top of you, momentarily unlatching from your neck to then slightly push you to the side and press his strong chest flush against your back, one hand woven in your hair and the other cupping your breast still. With almost desperate keenness, he hooks one of his legs over yours, shoving his crotch against your rear, and immediately you notice the rock hard bulge nudging the space between your buttocks. The tips of your ears burn bright red at this realization, making you wonder how common of an occurrence this must be; as your mind wanders to the night when he first bit you, he sinks his fangs back into the bruised vein, and your eyes water a little due to the sudden pain, which you quickly forget about once you feel his hips start almost imperceptibly grinding against your own. Wedging the bulge deeper within the valley of your ass, he moves it to and fro, almost in rhythm with his sucking of your blood, the digits on your bosom earnestly playing with your nipple and those in your hair tenderly caressing the tousled tresses. 

“Hm—hnng…” Astarion groans lewdly, lasciviously, making suggestive wet sounds while sensually lapping at your crimson. No longer satisfied to feel you up through your clothes, he sticks his hand under your shirt, and his cold fingers quickly resume fondling the soft skin of your breast, in response to which shock waves shoot up your legs and arms. Freeing the digits tangled in your hair, he brings them to your ribs, sliding their pads along your navel and down towards your groin, where he then firmly grabs one of your supple thighs. That’s when it occurs to you how unlike your night together he seems to be acting—eagerly exploring your body with almost adolescent clumsiness, his movements sloppy and impulsive, he appears to be entirely focused on taking rather than giving; having no reason to try to impress you, he acts greedily instead, intent on achieving his own personal ecstasy above all else, a fact that doesn’t bother so much as instill in you a puzzling sense of relief.

Increasing the pace of his thrusts, he tightens the grip of his leg around yours, and for a short while you all but forget that your crimson is running down his throat still, unable to focus on anything but the heat irradiating from his skin as it becomes ever warmer the more he feeds. When you notice you can no longer feel the tips of your toes, it is far too late—a tingling sensation spreads across your heavy limbs due to the loss of blood, and holding onto a single thought proves far too difficult, your mind now a messy whirlwind of memories and abstractions. Your arousal persists even as your conscience starts to wane; slick soaks through your underpants, the sweet scent of which causes Astarion to immediately stop moving, freezing as if caught with his fingers inside the cookie jar. After what seems like an eternity, both his hands and fangs leave your helpless form, and he shuffles behind you, presumably looking for something—before you can even begin to wonder what, you feel him press a soft piece of fabric against the fresh set of bite marks on your neck, which he uses to gently wipe the thick red blooming from the small wounds. 

Worried that any further stimulation might disturb your sleep, he decides to attempt a less bold approach instead, pulling away slightly, although your legs remain twisted together. Barely awake now, the echoes of the forest reach your ears in hushed, distant hums, but you can still hear him as he brings the bloodstained cloth to his nose, taking in your scent deeply, eyes closed and a libidinous moan falling from his pretty lips. One of his now freed hands hastily makes its way to the waistband of his pants, only to then slip under it, and as soon as his elegant digits brush against the velvety crown of his cock, he wraps them around its engorged girth, squeezing lightly and drawing pearly droplets of precome from the weeping slit. 

“Mngh…” he croaks, his voice raspy and hoarse, and you can’t tell for sure, but a whisper that vaguely sounds like your own name wafts through the air and vanishes into the evening sky as he starts sliding his hand up and down his length, smearing the clear liquid seeping from the leaking tip all over himself. Prior to your night of passion, this is how he would choose to relieve the painful erection inevitably provoked by his daily feedings, only he would retreat to his tent then; once you became more intimate, things changed, and raw eroticism would percolate into every session, images of your moments together sweeping through his mind and springing his aching sex to life with each gulpful of your lifeblood. The instant you offered him your neck, all he had ever known suddenly came into question—drinking from you while balls-deep into your tight cunt was an experience unlike any other, to the point of almost completely resignifying the concept of pleasure for him. By owning your body, he had made you his, even if only temporarily; your blind trust was something he had never before experienced, and not once had he felt so powerful as with you squirming under him, completely submitting to his whims. 

“Astarion, please…” he recalls you whimpering, the sound of his name on your pink tongue so enticingly sultry, stirring up in him all sorts of conflicting feelings; lust, infatuation, guilt, anger, all blended together and indistinguishable from one another. How beautiful a vision you had made then—such a pretty, luscious thing, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes glinting with coquettish longing. The more he finds himself caring, the more he hates you for it; the more his hatred for you grows, the more he wants you by his side. Choosing to manipulate you into a tactical alliance was the culmination of careful and meticulous deliberation—at once deadly and most pleasing to the eye, yet seemingly unaware of either fact; a naive, kind fool, lost and alone, his perfect target from every angle, you were the obvious candidate. He had no way of knowing at the time—how you would unwittingly beat him at his own game and steal your way into his undead heart, without even really trying. 

While pumping his now glistening cock, your precious face is all Astarion can think of, every detail of it perpetually burned onto his retinas—long, thick lashes, curtaining doe-like eyes; sweet little freckles speckling the bridge of your nose; smooth skin and plump rosy lips, so soft and kissable. And your scent, oh, your scent—delicious and intoxicating, such a lovely, delectable bouquet. Although now warm, his hand could never compare to the feeling of your slickened walls clenching and fluttering around him, and no amount of pressure would ever be able to replicate the sensation of stretching them open, coaxing yelps and cute whiny pants out of you with each nudge of your cervix. He wonders for a moment what other expressions he has yet to witness you make; in what other manners he has yet to take you, in what other positions he has yet to watch you come undone. Maybe on all fours, that round ass of yours sticking out so very invitingly, begging to be devoured; maybe on your knees, darkened lips wrapped tightly around his cock, eyes watering and drool dripping down onto the swollen peaks of your perky breasts as you accommodate all of him like the good girl you are. Each idea is more enticing than the one before, and the very thought of acquainting himself with all the ins and outs of your body makes him feel alive, bulging veins and tumid cockhead pulsating madly against his sweaty palm as he goes over the endless possibilities. He had tasted you once; now, he craves every inch of your being, his hunger insatiable. 

“Mine…” he growls possessively, picturing your tits bouncing and the rouged knot atop your dripping core throbbing for him as he feels his climax draw nearer, rubbing the cloth sullied with your crimson against his nose, your taste still fresh in his mouth and a trail of red running down his chin. You are not his, not yet, but although he curses himself for it, he would bring his simple plan to fruition, for all the wrong reasons; he wants you, he needs you—his own little bundle of joy, his light in the darkness, his glimmer of solace, his, his, his, and his alone. He won’t share your kindness, not with your companions, not with anyone, and he cares not if his greediness makes him unworthy, for he never deserved any of it in the first place; regardless, you’d still extend a hand to the wretch who put a knife to your throat, toyed with your emotions and sucked you dry, in more ways than one. You may not realize it, but in sharing your life essence with him, you breathed color into his world, roused within his soul a vital spark he’d long forgotten had once ever been there. He may not be entitled to it, but he’d still have it all—he’d still have you, to the bone and beyond.

“Oh, gods…” With one last stroke, Astarion empties himself on his hand and stomach, legs convulsing and hips stuttering, letting go of the cloth to then nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, lips pressed against the bloodied gashes maculating your otherwise flawless skin. The inside of his pants is now covered in come, yet even as the thick fluid runs uncomfortably down his thighs, he feels strangely at peace—happy, even. His softening cock twitches and jerks still, but fearing that his luck may soon run out, he lets go of it and wipes his fingers on the hem of his shirt, which he learns is also stained with his seed; once they’re sufficiently clean, he wraps both of his arms around your waist in a tight embrace, focusing on the gentle raising of your chest as you inhale ever so softly, finally at rest. 

“This is a gift, you know.”

He won’t forget it. Regardless of what may lie ahead, he won’t. Warm flesh, beating heart; as your crimson courses through his veins, the thread of life now connects you both, your fates forever intertwined. When morning comes, all will be back to normal, but for now, he shall hold you, cradle you, as he would a lover. A true lover—though what would that be, if not prey that wakes by his side once the dawn breaks? Disturbing as that thought may be, it is of little import for now; basking in the clarity of death, he allows himself a moment of reprieve, for your time together is far from over. What treasures will the future bestow? Why—finding out is but a matter of waiting.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Obkk ghost marriage fic where after kannabi bridge, the Uchiha decide Kakashi can keep the eye but only if he agrees to marry Obito's ghost in a traditional ghost marriage.

(This also means he officially joins the Uchiha clan. Maybe lean into how he knows very little ab his own clan history, so there's like some minor complexes playing off of that as he ultimately takes up the Uchiha name and traditions, effectively abandoning his own -> which could also play interestingly into his negative views of his father at that age. This also means he moves out of his clan compound and into the Uchiha district— which is actually really good for his mental health)

Kakashi doesn't argue, he sees it as the ultimate atonement actually. He's incredibly dutiful but especially so at that age. He'd take it dead fuckin seriously and be the best ghost bride possible. Instead of constantly going to the memorial stone he has like a proper shrine to honor him in the house where he leaves his favorite foods n stuff

Like little 13 year old widower Kakashi w Rin as his witness rip

I'm not the biggest Rin fan bc her canon characterization feels like that usual boring "girl crush turned martyr" (naruto misogony strikes again rip) and I've yet to find any interpretations that really strike me— with one exception.

I don't remember the fic, and Rin only showed up for part of it, but I remember being rlly taken by her in it. It highlighted her being as struck by Obito's death as Kakashi, with her an official mednin working overtime in the hospital as the war ramped up. Also it gave her a smoking habit!! I can appreciate a well played addiction to cope in text. Idk I just read it and kinda went "woah she suddenly feels like a real person to me"

But like, that for Rin here. She's working triple overtime in the hospital, day and night. The war is getting worse and worse and some nights she comes home w her gloves still stained in the blood of her patients from back to back surgeries where her patients died on the table. They have her listed for eye trauma specifically after her successful transplant for Kakashi, and she's proving to be invaluable for the patients w eye based kekkei genkkai. She wants to go into specifically researching and healing for eye bloodline limits, but is struggling to convince the clans to allow her access to that information.

Kakashi's new home is closer to the hospital that Rin's parents, and stuff w her parents is starting to get... tense. It hurts them, to see their daughter struggling like this. To see her coming home with dulled eyes and bloodied hands. To be waken by her nightmares and then not know how to comfort her.

Rin slowly starts staying over with Kakashi more and more and after a while she's just kind of fully moved in, but neither of them actually really talk about it

Let them be best friends w a kind of codependency on eachother that would be concerning if not for how it's very clearly keeping both of their heads afloat as days go on and things get worse.

Queerplatonic besties Rin and Kakashi sharing the same bed so when they wake up screaming they can help eachother go back to sleep easier. Rin likes it when Kakashi summons his ninken to sleep w them. They sleep easier w eachother bc they feel safer knowing they're there to have eachothers back, just like they would on the field

Anyways, Kakashi moves out of his clan compound and into the Uchiha's. He's neighbors with a little 6 year old Shisui and is kind of picked up by the scruff by a lot of Uchiha who have really weird complex feelings ab Obito's death (many of them feeling bad ab not having reached out before to him / seeing him die so young, and then projecting that onto Kakashi)

Kakashi and sometimes Rin kind of accidentally becoming a babysitter for Itachi both bc of proximity and bc Mikoto is friends with Kushina

On that note -> Minato does not really get the ghost marriage thing. He's civilian born, and the practice is really old and hasn't really been used since like, warring states era. So Minato is kind of weirded out and very "uhhh. Are you SURE this is what you wanna do?" But Kakashi seems set, and like, if it helps him cope???

He is however very supportive of getting Kakashi out of the fucking tomb of his father's house and into the much more populated and lively Uchiha clan compound

Minato makes Kakashi ANBU and designates him as his home guard specifically to keep him off the battlefield. He lowkey does the same to Rin (minus the ANBU part) positioning her in the hospital and making sure she's getting that good good mednin education. If pressed on why she doesn't go out as a field medic, he insists it's because she shows too much promise as a healer to risk— not now that they've lost Tsunade. If Rin can grow to be even half as good as she is, it'll be worth keeping her away from the fighting.

Neither Kakashi nor Rin feel very good about this decision (tho hypocritically, they agree w it when it comes to the other, bc ofc they do)

Rin doesn't die bc I say so and Obito does a comedy spit take when he inevitably learns he's legally married to Kakashi under the eyes of the Sage, Amaterasu and all.

[solarmorrigan]

Howling for You

For the @steddie-spooktober day 9 prompt: Werewolf Rating: T | Words: 1405 | CW: brief, vague descriptions of gore? (werewolf transformation) | Tags: established relationship, werewolf Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson, fluff, a little hurt/comfort Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

This is… unexpected.

The thing is, Steve always tells Eddie to stay safe during the full moon. To stay away from Steve and just let him have his run in the woods. He’d never be able to live with himself if he hurt Eddie.

So Eddie stays inside. He doesn’t go out, no matter how curious he is (his boyfriend is a werewolf, and he doesn’t even get to see his wolf form? Criminally unfair) and no matter how mournful and lonely the faint howls sound in the woods. For once, Eddie actually obeys instructions.

Except– except for this time, when he realizes that Steve’s forgotten to take his post-transformation care kit out with him (fresh clothes, a bottle of water, ibuprofen, wet wipes for the worst of the mess). He doesn’t want Steve to be without—to do some kind of werewolf walk of shame in day-old clothes while covered in grime and who knows what else—and he figures he has time. The moon is barely in the sky, and Steve hadn’t left too long ago. Surely Eddie still has time.

(Spoiler: he does not.)

Eddie doesn’t manage to find Steve in the end, stumbling around in the dark woods, realizing that he has no idea where Steve goes to have his transformation. Instead, Steve finds Eddie.

And look, Eddie is only human. When confronted with a wolf easily twice his size, bright hazel eyes (familiar, but not Quite Right) flashing in the moonlight, sharply-clawed paws carrying him closer and closer at an alarming speed, it doesn’t matter how much he knows Steve loves him – Eddie assumes he’s about to die.

He drops the care package, wonders if he has time to run, wonders if he can even make his body move well enough to run at all, wonders if maybe playing dead would work – and that’s when the unexpected happens.

Steve– the wolf?– no, Steve, lets out a yip that wouldn’t be out of place coming from an excited puppy, galumphs forwards, tackles Eddie, and then… lies down on his chest.

His head is the size of Eddie’s torso, his large, wet nose resting just beneath Eddie’s chin, and he just lies there, looking up at Eddie with wide eyes and sort of wiggling against him. When Eddie cranes his head to look around Steve, he realizes it’s because he’s wagging his tail so hard that his whole body is shaking with it.

“Uh… Steve?” Eddie hazards.

He isn’t sure how himself Steve is in this state. Steve’s made it sound like the wolf takes over and his human consciousness takes a backseat, made it sound like he’s dangerous, but from where Eddie’s lying, he seems – well, not harmless, but certainly friendly.

Steve whuffs at him, and Eddie can feel the sound reverberate through his whole chest.

“Are you– do you know me?” Eddie asks.

In response, Steve opens his mouth—and yep, those are teeth. Very large, sharp teeth—lets his tongue loll out, and licks Eddie.

It’s… an experience.

He wiggles his way a little further up Eddie’s body after that, nearly knocking the wind out of Eddie, and wuffles his huge, cold nose right up under Eddie’s ear. His breath ruffles Eddie’s hair, and Eddie can’t help his immediate reaction to try to push Steve’s head away.

“Hey, hey, that – shit, that tickles!” he gasps, laughing a little as Steve lifts his head.

He whines at Eddie, his ears folded back, and fixes him with the biggest set of puppy dog eyes that Eddie’s ever seen. He can’t help his immediate reaction then, either.

He brings his hands up, stroking over Steve’s fur, seeking out a spot behind his ear to scratch, shushing him. His fur is thick, a little coarse on top and addictively plush and soft underneath, and it figures that Steve has good hair no matter what form he’s in.

“Dangerous, my ass,” Eddie mutters as Steve settles back in against him with a happy grumble. “You’re not dangerous, are you, sweetheart? No, you’re just a big ol’ puppy.”

It’s at that moment that Steve’s ears prick forward, his whole body tensing in alert. He stands up, towering over Eddie’s prone form, a growl rolling low in his chest, and a thrill of primal fear shudders down Eddie’s spine.

The growl doesn’t seem to be directed at him, though. Instead, Steve steps right over Eddie, intent on something making noise in the trees just at the edge of the clearing. His fur stands up as he tenses, coils, and then pounces into the trees in one powerful leap.

“Okay,” Eddie says, still lying, dazed, on the ground, “maybe a little dangerous.”

He isn’t quite sure what to do with himself now that Steve’s gone. Should he go back to the house? Should he wait? Something in him worries that Steve will be sad if Eddie leaves now (and something else in him worries that Steve in Hunting Mode won’t differentiate between him and any other prey, if he should go wandering in the woods), so he decides to set up in the clearing and wait.

Steve isn’t gone long. He comes back licking his chops and looking, somehow, very satisfied with himself. He yips again to see Eddie sitting up against a tree, excitement taking over his full form as he bounds over and flumps down on the ground in front of him. He rolls over, and Eddie can’t help but laugh.

“You want your belly rubbed?” he asks, sitting forward.

Steve whuffs at him, wiggling a little, his tail wagging as best it can against the ground, and Eddie isn’t rude enough to deny such a polite request. He sits up on his knees and applies both hands to the task, and he gets to find out what joy looks like on a werewolf.

It’s pretty good.

The night carries on like that; Steve will occasionally bound off into the trees, chasing a noise or a movement, but he always comes back to Eddie, sweet and gentle and playful in his movements. Eddie’s watch tells him it’s three a. m. by the time he starts to flag. The adrenalin rush at the beginning of the night had been enough to keep him going for a while, but he does need to sleep eventually, unlike certain beasts he could name.

Still, once Steve clocks Eddie’s continued yawning, he sits and curls up beside Eddie, nudging at him with his enormous head until Eddie gets the picture and lies back into the curve of Steve’s body.

There, cradled in warmth and security, Eddie falls asleep before he knows it.

His awakening is rude. He finds himself jostled to the ground with the morning’s first rays of sun in his eyes, and it takes him a moment to remember just where he is and why, but then he’s jolting upwards, trying to scramble up off his ass and find Steve.

He doesn’t have far to look; Steve hasn’t gone, he’s standing in the center of the clearing, tense and ready, as the dawn washes over him.

And then he changes.

It’s horrifying. Eddie has never heard a bone break before, and now he’s heard it in stereo. The snap of muscle and skin pulling back into place is sickening, and yet it’s all nothing compared to the noise coming from Steve’s throat.

The panicked, pained whine of a wounded animal morphs and changes in pitch until it’s Steve’s voice, ringing through the clearing in a final, agonized scream that echoes for long moments after he’s stopped making noise.

He sways, falls to his knees, and then Eddie is right there in front of him, gathering him close to his chest, holding him as Steve nuzzles tiredly into the crook of Eddie’s neck.

“I didn’ hurt you,” he slurs out, trying to cuddle in closer.

Eddie wraps his arms more tightly around him. “You didn’t hurt me,” he confirms. “Not a bit.”

Steve hums, eyes shut as he lets himself be held, be comforted in a way he never has been after his moonlight jaunts. “I think… I could smell you,” he says after a long moment, more of an exhausted, half-formed thought than a full hypothesis.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks anyway. “What did I smell like?”

Steve lifts his head, nosing up into the spot just behind Eddie’s ear, much as he had just a few hours ago.

“Home.”

[thegnomelord]

i took 357191027r6392936446322736432947372 psychic damage from the Makarov fic so you gotta write reader being rescued, healed, rehabilitated and loved by the task force. imagine them teaching reader to be their own person or letting him top without any commands or punishments. reader would be whining like a puppy who doesn't know what it's doing and would be so cute and fearful looking for reasurance when fucking into a task force member it would be so cute

lol idk dude. I was intending to do the fic as a one off to satisfy my puplay kink but it's now started to rot my brain even more lol. If I did continue it, I don't know if I'd want a happy ending or an angsty one (omfg imagine going through all the healing and rehab and experiencing love only for one word from Makarov to have you going back to him without question)

So tell me ya'll if you want me to turn the one shot into a longer fic lol, but for now here's some headcannons, ideas/ whatever and some porn

CW:NSFW, rough anal, Simon x reader with Price watching, dom/sub.

I can't imagine Hound would be happy about the 'rescue' considering everything and definitely would be resistant to rehab (Hound biting ppl and getting muzzled lol) that dogheaded asinine stubbornness coming to bite him in the ass. I headcannon Hound to have already been violent when he was under Price's command but Price kept Hound in check(if anyone's seen that young ghost and price comic with him being compared to a fighting dog it's kinda like that).

Makarov didn't need to do much and just played into the aggressive tendency to make Hound as they are now. The more violent the reaction hound would make, the more attention and praise he'd get. Also I'm just a sucker for dog like characters that are unhinged. That have no moral compass except for the one they're loyal to and will do whatever they ask.

So the task force members would have their hands full with Hound that's basically an aggressive fighting dog taken straight out of the pit. Also I'm still thinking whether the 141 would try to steer Hound away from the pup/dog like mentality Makarov conditioned them into, or if they would try to redirect it by calling Hound 'pup, boy' etc, instead of 'dog' like Makarov did.

Also the grief Price would feel to see the man he thought was dead turned into that would break his heart. I don't know if I'd want him to crack down on trying to rehab hound, or let a lot of things slide because he's scared of fucking you up more.

But also like rehabed fighting dogs turn out to be the sweetest animals and Hound just going from this 'I will bite your throat out' to just a gentle giant that's just happy to be able to touch or hug someone without needed permission. . . but he can still bite a throat out.

Also I 1000% swear that Makarov's a whore and would have trained reader to have enough stamina to fuck him all night long so the task force would get pounded into next year lol.

This is questionable cannon and non-confirmed lol you just got me brain rotting with the cute pup part and this came out. Rough and quick.

CW:NSFW

You feel like you will die; heat burns through your veins, sweat crawls down your skin and makes your hair stick to your forehead. Your hands grip Simon's bruised hips, holding them up for him as you pound into him. "Please-" You barely manage a small whimper, hiding your face in Simon's shoulder.

Simon's body quivers beneath you, limp and boneless, a wet hole for you to use. He's as sweaty as you, rough grunts and half-formed swears leaping from his lips every time your hips meet his ass in a bruising thrust. He's the closest to you in size, albeit still smaller, which makes it easier for him to take your size than the others. His insides are a sweltering heat around your cock, fucked into a loose sloppy hole that would gape if you pulled out, muscles still doing their best to squeeze you every time you nail his prostate.

It makes you feel ashamed how long it took you to find it. Mounting anyone but Makarov feels wrong, you're not sure how fast or how deep to go, this current rough pace making Simon the most vocal since you began. You feel him cum again, walls clenching tightly for the first time in a while as you force him into spurting what's left in his empty balls.

"Pl- sir, I- please, please," You can't help but hiccup, your nails leaving crescent bruises in his skin as you just pound him through his orgasm. It's his fourth one.

"What's wrong son?" Price's words barely get through the fog of need in your skull, more little whimpers splitting from your lips. "Don't you want to let go?" Tears blurry your vision, you can barely see his face from where he's resting Simon's head in his lap.

You can't cum. Your balls are so full they feel like they'll explode any second, cock throbbing to finally shoot your load but no matter how harshly you thrust into the willing hole beneath you. It feels like those times Makarov would put a cock ring on you, but worse, now it's your own body refusing to give you release. You haven't earned it.

"Please-" You repeat, because that's the best your mind can come up with, your hips stuttering as overstimulation stabs your nervous system like a knife. "I-please, fuck- I can't." You force out, forcing yourself to return to the punishing pace, your pelvis starting to go numb like it would a few hours into Makarov using you as a living dildo.

Price's fingers are disgustingly gentle as they curl into your sweaty hair, making you look up at him with soft pressure on your scalp. There's no bite to his touch, no pain, it's too good for a thing like you.

You'll thank what god exists that Price seemingly understands your problem, "Oh, son." You hate the hint of sorrow in his tone, you hate yourself more for how it makes your heart pound in your ears. "Here, let me" He whispers, his other hand sliding down to your naked neck.

The lack of any collars around your neck still disgusts you every waking moment, still makes you feel wrong, bad dog. His fingers wrap around your throat. They're too loose to be a proper collar, but it lets you breathe easier, his palm warm and big enough to completely cover the 'V.M' tattooed on your skin.

"Go on, that's a good boy." He whispers, "Cum for us." Price orders, kissing you so softly it disgusts you, like heaven wrapped in thorns.

You feel fresh tears spill down your tears as the dam not letting you cum is finally torn down. You hiccup your 'thank you sir's against his lips as you spill inside Simon. You can just distantly hear Simon groan as you dump your cum into his sloppy hole, muscles weakly fluttering around your cock as you roll your hips, fucking your cum deeper into him, just the act of cumming hurting almost as much as being denied, your balls aching with every spurt of cum.

You collapse on Simon, pushing the breath out of his lungs, as boneless as him. You don't struggle when Price rolls you to your side, your cock slipping out. Cum and lube gushes out from his hole like a firehose, flooding the small space between you two, his rim red and irritated, muscles weakly fluttering around nothing as they try to close.

You try to thank him but you slur your words into his skin, feeling the muscles in his abdomen quiver as you huddle closer and wrap your arms around him, your chest pressed flush to his back. You expect him to pull away, Makarov hated being vulnerable like this longer than he needed, but all Simon does is grunt and tip his head back so you can hide your face in the space between his shoulder and neck.

"You olright Simon?" Price asks, brushing a hand through your sweaty hair for a few seconds before you feel him softly wiping away your spend from you two.

"Fuck," Simon breathes out, voice scratchy and rough. "Are we sure Makarov's human?" His hand reaches up to scratch your scalp as you kiss one of the numerous bite marks you left on him. His skin is a canvass of black and blue bruises, your bite marks starting to clot across his body. "Shit, I can't feel my legs."

His words feel like a slap in the face, and you don't notice how you let out a small whimper, your hold tightening. This is it, you'll have to let him go soon, he'll order you to leave like Makarov always did.

"None of that son." Price's voice is calm in your ear, rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. "You did good."

Simon hums, his fingers running lower to scruff you, "Mhm, yeah," His words are slurred, exhaustion weighing on both of you. "Best snog I've ever had." He grumbles, and you don't doubt he won't admit it in the morning, but for the moment, as you feel yourself slowly drift off to sleep, you let yourself enjoy the praise, the warmth of human touch, the care you can feel in both of them.

This is starting to feel nice.

[hotteokyu]

Bad Girl Syndrome

MINORS DNI ~ EXPLICIT CONTENT

Synopsis~ Reader and Yunho are some bad bitches. They're lovers in crime, infamous for their heartless acts. Everyone knows them. The scariest of the scariest are scared of them. They're insane. Except... there's one little secret. The lovers are so innocent behind closed doors. They've never thought about it until now, let alone done it. Sex, that is.

Word count~ 11.4k

Pairing~ outlaw!yunho x outlaw!reader

Genre / WARNINGS ~ NSFW / EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, romance, violence, drugs, criminal activity, sexual tension, pet names, insensitive language, yu and y/n are super cute, they "participate" in an orgy temporarily, dry humping, vaginal fingering, oral (female and male receiving), vaginal sex, yuyu's big, first time, virgins.

a/n~ have fun!! mwa ᯓᡣ𐭩

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     Everyone has a story. Most of them aren’t important. 

     But yours is.

     You were fifteen when you met him. 

     It was silly because he was just like you.

     He liked to do bad things.

     You saw him first at a local charity. One that helped ex-convicts start a new life. You saw him hand a freaky-looking shit a gun. It was on the news the next morning. Fifteen people died. And that freaky guy killed himself after.

     You liked to do bad things too.

     Smashing vending machines, selling drugs, breaking into rich fucks’ houses, and snipping their whores’ hair off while they slept. Just small things.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     Jeong Yunho was his name.

     It took only a month for him to notice you. When you got together at sixteen, you began to do worse things. Kill, rob, torment. It felt so much better to do it with Yunho. Your reputation built on its own as your desire to play alongside him grew.

     You were wanted in four countries by eighteen.

     At nineteen, you were arrested in Mongolia for murder and wanted to die rather than live through that hell. You were assaulted physically and sexually multiple times by inmates and guards alike.

     You were twenty when you killed an inmate for trying to take your clothes off. You had smashed her head against the cell bars until her brains were spilling out and she collapsed, dead. You were gone before she was found.

     You and Yunho had to move around a lot after that, and you found others along the way. Seven outlaws, wanted for this or that. Your gang was somewhat official by the time you were twenty-one. That’s when you found your turf. And you never left.

     By twenty-four, you were fucking unstoppable. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Hmm? Where’s your bitch?” 

     The bar was quiet. The bartender, a youthful drunkard, was always talking the customers away. It was bad for business but nice for the locals. For you and your bitch.

     “He’s around,” you sighed. “You think he’ll leave me? He doesn’t even take me out anymore.” You sat down softly upon a stool at the bar, your chin resting on the palm of your hand sadly. There was even a little pout to go with it. “I just might die if he leaves me.”

     The man scoffed, rubbing uselessly at a stained glass, pinching its rim with a black hand towel. It looked like it would turn to dust, as it used to be purple. “About time. I’m tired of your shit.”

     You ignored him, instead sighing again as you eyed the door gloomily. 

     Wooyoung was his name, maybe. You’d thought about killing him before, but Yunho really liked him. For some reason. He was so loud. Holy shit, he did not stop talking. It made you so fucking close to slicing his neck wide open.

     The bell above the door rang, and two heavy feet stumbled inside. You closed your eyes, letting out a long sigh. You’d taken a shower that morning, but a bath didn’t sound too bad. Just to soothe your frustrations, though you could already feel them fading away.

     You opened your eyes slowly, cocking a brow at the bartender, who was very much not amused. At least he wasn’t talking. 

     “Wooyoungie~!” you sang, hopping to your feet as the steps grew closer. You let a smirk land on your lips. “I think I’ll live tonight!”

     “I think you should just go home,” he groaned, eyeing the customer behind you, then returning his annoyed orbs right back at your growing grin. Your lips stretched far over your teeth as you reached a cheek-squishing smile.

     “There’s no tomorrow! Only tonight!” you shouted. 

     The steps behind you halted. Even retreated just once or twice. You stepped out, twirling your hair over your shoulder as you turned your head toward him. Six feet tall, big, strong, eyes wide in terror as he laid them on your grin. 

     You liked eyeing up those men. The big ones who turned to putty as soon as they heard your pretty voice or saw your beautiful face. It was so cute. I mean, who could be scared of you? Your little bows and skirts. Your cutesy smile and pretty pink lip gloss. Not to mention your beautiful eyes. Any man would want to fall deep into their ethereal design. But instead, they were drained of all color. Gray clumps of old smelly men who were so scared of you. It made the killing part so much more fulfilling. 

     You took a step, your left foot before your right. A straight line as you pattered your way, just a few steps, toward the frozen man. They were so slow. Could he even see you moving? He didn’t even move his eyes from your smile. He was a little nervous. You had to let him get comfortable with your face, let him enjoy it. It would be the last thing he ever saw.

     You could see his tremble as you got closer, just a bit. He didn’t move, but he consistently quivered in that spot.

     Around then, you would usually be thinking of how you wanted to do it, but you were so tired. You just wanted to slit his throat and be done. Have Wooyoung take care of the rest. Or maybe just let him go. He seemed to want to leave anyway. Not that you were stopping him. 

     A glass slid against the counter then. You glanced over, just a little curious. You were so zoned in, but the sound broke that abruptly.

     “Hi, baby,” Yunho mumbled from a stool at the bar. Your pin-sized pupils dilated significantly at the simple sight of him. The soft, low sound of his voice. 

     You heard a whimper of sorts from the man beside you, and you frowned, eyeing him and deepening the curve of your lips. “Can you just go?” you sighed, rolling your eyes when his legs stumbled in trying to figure out where to move. 

     His knees dropped to the floor, a droplet of water splashing against the dirty mud-tracked tile. That was either a tear or the drool that had been dripping from his mouth since he fucking walked in. Disgusting. He suddenly choked out a sob so gruesome and horrified as he slammed his arms over his head.

     “Oh, okay.” She glanced over at the two men at the counter, slowly shrugging in confusion. They were getting so stupidly scared. How could fear make you like that? That’s so embarrassing. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “How are you still standing, Wooyoungie?” Yunho chuckled, splashing his drink as he clanked his glass against your kitchen counter. “Her face is so scary~!” He took your head between his two huge hands and squished your cheeks together, imitating the pout that your lips formed as he watched your features reshape between his palms. “Ooh~ I’m so scared~!” He grinned when your tightly knitted brows lightened and hopped a little with your small laugh. 

     “I’m going home,” Wooyoung grumbled, pushing his glass away as he sighed dramatically at your lovey-lovely shit. “Don’t call me. I’ll be dead anyway.”

     “No~! That’s not true!!” you laughed. “We’ll protect you!” 

     Yunho nodded, giving Wooyoung a confident thumbs up. He wasn’t really having it.

     “Don’t call me.”

     The door creaked and slammed, the sound echoing throughout the room. Yunho was watching the frames on the wall tremble for a moment before he eagerly turned back toward you. His grin was playful as always, his eyes squinting as he watched your pretty little face.

     “Are you excited for tomorrow?” he asked, his smile growing a bit bigger when you nodded quickly. He put a gentle hand on your head, stroking down once, then twice. There was always a gentleness to his gaze that you adored. Because Yunho was a dangerous man, but he also became putty when he looked at you. Only in a completely different way from anyone else. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     Money wasn’t the issue. It was just so thrilling. Of course, money was great too. There was just something about that moment outside of the forbidden vault. You could hardly breathe with the mask sticking to your face like a second layer of skin. Your eyes sparkled out of excitement and the reflection of the shimmer of the silver vault door. 

     You weren’t allowed in there. You weren’t allowed to have any of what lay beyond the door. So you wanted it. 

     “Ladies first.” Yunho’s voice was soft beside your ear, his body pressing lightly against your back as he bent down to meet you at your level. You lifted your hand just high enough to feel the fluff of his black hair peeking out from the mask at his neck. You slid your fingers against the soft of his skin gently. “Or are you scared?” he whispered, folding just a little closer. He took your wrist in his hand and lowered it, placing it on the wheel of the door. “Or do you need help?”

     You pulled, and the door creaked, slowly opening to reveal the bags and boxes of treasures within. This town was so underdeveloped. No need for technology or even locks within the vault because there was hardly anything to anyone’s name anyway. 

     “You’ve got three minutes. We parked out back. Call when you’re ready to go.” You could hear the crinkles of a bag and the crunches of snacks through your earpiece. Seonghwa was probably in the driver’s seat munching on some chips. At least he ate neatly. 

     As soon as you stepped foot into the room, the other three outlaws on your raid team rushed inside. San, Jongho, and Yeosang. They were big, and strong, and good at being efficient in times like these. They would take care of loading the goods. 

     You walked past the gold bars and green bills toward the back of the vault, an empty wall, the perfect canvas. Yunho held out the spray paint, black this time. Black meant murder, though this was a robbery. There was one death, the lady at the counter who wanted to be a hero. But it was hardly murder. She collapsed with a little push against the wall.

     Sighing, you took the can. Then, as far as your arms could reach, you sprayed your gang’s cute little symbol. The curves looked nice that time, dripping just a bit as you stood back to admire your hard work. 

     “We’re leaving,” Yunho announced as you turned toward the door. The room was nearly empty. You grabbed the final bag as everyone filed out.

     The blood on the floor from the lady had spread into the walkway. You stepped into the puddle with a small smile. You liked leaving a trace of your cute pink boots behind. The cops would go crazy over the evidence, but it would be useless.

     “I thought you liked those boots,” Yunho mumbled, pouting a little as you all got in the van and drove off. “They’re ruined…”

     “I’ll get new ones,” you assured, knowing he liked them more than you did. 

     You wiggled your feet out and frowned when you saw a drop of red on your white sock down by your toes. Yunho gasped, taking your foot off of the van floor and placing it in his lap. 

     “You like these too,” he grumbled.

     Yunho always grew a little attached to cute things. Especially when they were on you. 

     You placed your hands on his soft cheeks, his eyes meeting yours. “I think you like them more than I do,” you teased, and he nodded. “Do you like them more than you like me?” you asked, pouting a little.

     “Holy shit!” San suddenly shouted. Everyone turned their heads in confusion, your hands dropping to your lap. “Get a fucking room,” he practically growled, glaring at the two of you in the back seat. “I’m tired of hearing it! You’re practically fucking each other every heist! Just wait until you get home!” He huffed and turned around in his seat.

     Sex. What distaste.

     “San, be for serious right now,” Wooyoung snickered.

     “They don’t even kiss. What do you mean fuck?” Jongho added. San glanced around in confusion.

     “They’re all up on each other, though, what do you mean??” 

     When you simply shifted in your seat, making your presence known, silence passed through the air. Not a single thought passed through that rigid air. No one moved. San’s face was awfully fucking pale compared to his golden skin. You’d think out of all of the seven outlaws you picked up from the streets, the stray cat should be the most grateful. I guess even loyal pets need to be retaught their manners.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     San looked guilty. There was nothing for him to be afraid of. You would never hurt him too badly. He was family, after all. 

     Choi San.

     You loved to joke around. You loved to have fun. You were a jolly girl. But to label you a whore? To speak or even think about such vulgar, lowly things?

     “San, what did we talk about, honey,” you asked, glancing down at his trembling hand, gripping his thigh and staining his black pants with his sweat. “It’s not too hard, is it? To respect me and your people.” 

     He shook his head, staring straight at the ground. You could feel your eye twitching. This relationship was not built on violence, so, unfortunately, you couldn’t just fucking kill him. 

     “San, please look at me.” His head shot up, and you saw the hot tears quivering in his bloodshot eyes. You frowned. “Poor, baby.” He was doing a poor job of keeping those tears bottled up. They looked like they’d spill over. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

     “I know,” he said between gritted teeth.

     “You know, I love you,” you said sweetly, giving him a small smile. 

     “I know.”

     “So what brought about this disrespect?” you asked, your voice growing just a bit tighter as you tried to contain yourself. He was fragile. “Was I rude to you? Was I bothering you too much? Do I annoy you?”

     He shook his head. “I was worried about your privacy,” he mumbled. His jaw was locked tight, the veins in his neck bulging as he stared into the center of your face. “That’s all.”

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Fuuuck~” Wooyoung groaned. “I’m so ready to get the fuck out of here!” He leaned his head against the wall, lifting it and dropping it in quiet thuds.

     “Got a day left, Woo,” Yeosang reminded, smiling optimistically at his friend. He gave a cute thumbs-up, but the goon was uninterested, instead banging his head just a bit harder against the heist room wall. 

     “We’ve only been here for three months,” Hongjoong said as he walked in through the back door. His steps were a sophisticated rhythm, one foot in front of the other as he strolled into the little abandoned warehouse. “What’s one more day?”

     “Captain, I’m sick of living in hiding like a fucking criminal,” Wooyoung grumbled, stopping his banging once the man sat down.

     “That’s crazy,” Jongho snickered. “Who’s gonna tell him?”

     “Fuck, we deserve luxury,” Wooyoung practically moaned. “That town we went to two years back. We should go there again.” He bit his lip, rolling his eyes at the pleasurable thought of living like normal rich biches again.

     Hongjoong smiled softly. It always looked a little menacing that way. “Our princess picked out a nice place for us this time,” he said, winking as Wooyoung’s face lit up. “I thought it might be nice to fuck up something nice.”

     “Fuck, you’re so right,” Wooyoung moaned.

     “Did we forget our manners, Wooyoungie?” Yunho asked, leaning against the back of his chair. Wooyoung flinched just slightly before relaxing into a playful smirk.

     “Yeah. I’m a bad boy,” he mumbled, leaning his head back into Yunho’s stomach. “Gotta punish me.” 

     He glanced at you and your indifferent expression. He looked annoyed, disappointed, even. Then he lifted his head, sighed, and acted like nothing had just happened. 

     “Can we focus on tonight? We can’t fuck this up,” you said, and all eyes landed on you. “The cops are on high alert, and they know we’ll be there. They want to get us tonight.”

     “You mean, you?” Wooyoung grumbled. “They don’t give a shit about us. They just want you.” He eyed you reluctantly, then glanced toward Yunho. “And maybe him.” He half-assed a point toward the man. 

     “Don’t be silly,” Yunho cooed, patting Wooyoung’s shoulder sympathetically. “They want all of us equally.”

     Hongjoong shook his head. “No, he’s right,” he said. “We’re all fucked up, but you guys are on another level of fucked up. You’re the real prize.” 

     “I bet they’d cuff one of us just to ask where Y/n is. They’d let us go if we told,” San said, puckering his lips. “But I’m a good boy, so I’d never tell.”

     You scrunched your brows. Why were your teammates such freaks?

     “Aww~!” Wooyoung sung. “Is Sannie a good boy?” San nodded, giving his best puppy eyes as Wooyoung leaned over the table to stroke his short black hair.

     “Anyway!” you interrupted, clearing your throat when the freaks wouldn’t stop petting each other. “Does everyone remember what they need to fucking do?” You pressed your lips together, glancing at each individual as they nodded. One of them would find a way to fuck this up. You knew they would. It would probably be fucking Choi San, his head stuck thinking about sex. Sex. Sex. Fucking whore. 

     You left the room first, and Yunho followed close behind. Your black heels clacked on the cracked concrete floor and echoed throughout the empty warehouse. You loved that sound. You let it envelop your mind. Let it calm you down just a bit. 

     You should’ve been excited for that night. It was the night you’d been waiting for for a long time. Then you could finally get out of here. You just couldn’t get yourself hyped. You were so annoyed. 

     Yunho peeked into your line of vision, and you cracked a small smile, turning toward him happily. He was grinning, his hand folding into yours. He always fell into step beside you, his heelclickingng in time with yours. He was so conscious of every little detail. The folds on your skin, how they wrinkled just slightly at your agitation. The falter in your step, how your confidence must not be at its peak as it should be on an important night like this. 

     “Do you think we’re fucked up?” he asked, and you gave him a knowing look.

     “Of course not, baby. Don’t think that,” you cooed. “I’m just so pretty. They all want me so bad.”

     He laughed, squeezing his eyes together giddily as he pulled you just a bit closer. 

     “You gonna dress in black tonight?” he asked, looking from your shoes to your top to the pin in your hair. You were feeling a little depressed today. So what?

     “Mm…” you hummed to yourself. “Maybe I would feel better if I wore some pink.”

     He nodded quickly. “I think so.”

     “Yeah?” you giggled.

     He bit his lip, eyeing you shyly. “Pink looks really good on you.” You nearly coo at the pink blush tinting his cheeks from ear to ear. 

     He was so adorable. You didn’t even need to put any pink on to feel good.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     For context, it was a masquerade party or something. The cargo was a small vial of a newly developed drug. It gave an aroused, high feeling. A lot like an aphrodisiac, but stronger. It didn’t really matter what it was. Your buddies in Russia wanted it, so you would supply it. 

     But, of course, there was a guest list. No one would let you in. Everyone and their mothers knew your pretty little face. 

     That’s where your pretty princess came in. Mingi wasn’t a “member” of your gang, nor was he affiliated with you publically. He was born with money and status but liked to do bad things. He was naughty, but he was quiet. And he fucking loved you and Jeong Yunho. He met you two back when you were kids in Korea. He tagged along for a while but was dragged back to the princess life before anything became public. He had connections, money, and a fine good reputation. Your perfect princess. 

     You would go to the party as “Mingi”’s plus one. The man at your side would only be Mingi until you got inside, though. Once the identity authentication was processed, he would sneak out and switch with Yunho. As much as you all loved Mingi, he wasn’t very good at being naughty. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Are you feeling all right, baby?” Yunho asked, his arm escorting you stiffly through the crowd.

     You hardly heard him over the extremity of your heartbeat. Fuck, this place was gorgeous. You wanted to look around at each painting, each dress, each extravagant jewel bedazzling the walls and tables, and fountains of assortments of drinks, and the gold flakes on sweet macaroons. The clacks of gentle steps elegantly echoed throughout the doming walls of the crystal structure. You could die a happy lady with this sight.

     “Do you like the dress I picked out for you?” Mingi asked from over the radio. Yunho’s arm tensed at your side, squeezing yours to him to keep your steps from wandering too far in amazement.

     You glanced toward Yunho with a soft, composed smile. “It’s lovely,” you told Mingi. In all honesty, it was pale and boring. Not at all your style, but at least it was shiny and blended in with the majority of the crowd. 

     Your mask, on the other hand, was absolutely stunning. When Yunho saw your sparkling eyes hidden beautifully in the shadows of the decorative piece, he nearly fell to his knees. He was in awe, not wanting to part from you, even if it was for, like, ten minutes. Mingi had to pry your arm from his grasp. It was embarrassing in front of your members, but you could just coo at his needy behavior. 

     Yunho gave you a knowing look as you frowned slightly down at your dress. 

     “The room you need to go into is downstairs,” Mingi sighed. “The guy with your package should arrive there soon.”

     “Any cams in there?” Yeosang asked, his fingers clacking against his ancient keyboard. 

     Mingi hummed. “I doubt it. Most of the time… shit goes down in the basement, ya know?” 

     It was a disadvantage you wish you didn’t have, but there was literally no information on the activities in the room you needed to be in. You had to be prepared for anything, and that was dangerous. 

     “Y/n, you see anything noteworthy around the stairs in the back?” Wooyoung asked. “I think I might know something.”

     You turned to Yunho, smiling up at him as you swayed your hand animatedly, talking almost silently but very expressively. “I think I know too. Butlers are carrying drinks down there every few minutes. Attendees…” you chuckled, a little nervous now that it’s all clicked for you. “The most revealing of the ladies and oldest, ugliest of the men.”

     Yunho nodded, smiling. “Does that mean…”

     “Well,” Wooyoung chuckled. “At least there’s two of you! It should be fine!”

     You winced as he let out a louder, monkey fucking laugh into your ear. You'd beat him up later, respect aside. 

     “You think this is funny?” you asked through tightly ground teeth. 

     “Guuuys~” he giggled, starting to calm down a bit. “It won’t be too hard. There’s gonna be tons of drugs and butt-naked men, but don’t pay attention to any of that.”

     “We don’t even know if that’s what it is,” Yeosang interrupted. 

     “That’s definitely what it is,” you sighed, watching as panting men and ladies escaped the darkness of the basement, sweating, flushed, and high as fuck.

     Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Listen. All you have to do is pretend to have some fun together. Then, pull out your magic drugs and get the guy’s attention. You know what the new stuff looks like. Make sure to bag it. You’ve done this for years, babes.”

     “Yeah, but people weren’t fucking and moaning and blocking every fucking sen-”

     Yunho placed a hand on your hip and squeezed lightly. You needed to shut the fuck up. Who were you to complain? It wouldn’t be hard. Woo was right. You would get in, bag that shit, and get out.

     “Let’s just go,” you mumbled, letting your expression sag to its natural annoyed state before you plastered an excited smile on your lips. 

     Yunho also seemed reluctant but tagged along regardless. I mean, neither of you really had a choice. This, or your Russian “buddies” would come find you while you were sleeping. 

     The guy at the door stopped you as you approached. You giggled like a slut, leaning into Yunho as you bit your lip. You reached into your man’s jacket pocket and slipped out just barely your little container of candy. He looked satisfied and let you pass. 

     You practically gagged as soon as that stench hit your nose. What the fuck was it. Alcohol. Tobacco. Cum. 

     What a fucking mess. 

     Woo was right. Buck naked, boobies hanging. Sex in every corner. Sex on every couch. 

     “Come on, baby,” Yunho groaned in your ear, pulling you to a free chair in the back of the room. Your ear twitched at the sound. It was definitely something you’d never heard from your sweet man before. You already knew he was much better at acting like he’d actually had sex before than you were. 

     He sat down and pulled you onto his lap. That was about all he had in him. He dropped his arms, pressed his lips tightly together, and stared wide-eyed at you above him. 

     “So you guys are in,” Wooyoung chuckled. “Where are you two in the room? Stay in the back, away from everyone’s attention.”

     “We’re in the back. O-on a chair,” you whispered into Yunho’s ear, right where his mic was. You lingered there for a moment. You could figure this out. It couldn’t be that hard. Sex. I mean, not sex. Pretending you were having sex. 

     After a long moment of horrible silence in your little area, Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Do you guys need some help?”

     “Yes,” you and Yunho both whispered immediately. 

     Wooyoung let out the biggest sigh, but he didn’t say anything about your incompetence as a couple. I mean, everyone knew you DID NOT fuck. For some reason… Everyone knew that. 

     “Sit on Yunho’s lap, Y/n,” he said. You nodded, glad you already had step one down. “All the way. Get all the way up on him.”

     You tilted your head. “All-?”

     “All the way.”

     You blushed, clearing your throat lightly as you scooted up on his lap, your hips flush together. You leaned over him, your mouth beside his ear simply to have his mic handy, but, this close, it felt too real already to simply be a mission. You’d never climbed your man like this before. You were probably heavy.

     “Yunho, hands on her hips.” 

     They were quick to tap your flesh, trembling as he curled his long, slender fingers around your waist. 

     “Now, listen to me,” he sighed, “Y/n, you’re gonna, like, roll your hips, BUT, you're gonna push against his stomach, NOT his crotch. Okay?? Not his crotch. Don't touch him there. Lift your hips a bit and roll them against his stomach.” 

     Yunho helped you lift your hips up a bit. You puckered your lips as you slowly pushed your hips forward. It was awkward and stiff, but you thought maybe you were doing it right. I mean, it didn’t feel like anything, so you couldn’t tell if it actually looked like you were doing anything. 

     “Does this seem right?” you whispered, continuing the slow rocking motion with his gentle guidance. 

     “Probably…” he mumbled, taking a slow, shaky breath.

     “Yunho, make sure to put on a good face for the crowd, buddy,” Wooyoung said. Yunho tensed a bit at that. You, though… immediately lifted your face from his side and stared at him. He was flushed, his eyes wide, a bit shocked at your sudden movement. 

     But you didn’t want him to make expressions like that for everyone to see. 

     You pressed your forehead against his with slightly parted lips. He was so close, his hands on your body, lips just an inch from yours. You had to close your eyes, taking slow breaths. 

     “I think this is better,” you mumbled, your nose brushing just barely against his. 

     He tried to nod, but it was just a tremble of his adorable features as he gazed at everything in front of him. 

     After a moment, everything started to slow down a bit. Your legs were relaxing, getting a bit messier in their precise movement, and you lowered just a bit. 

     He hissed, and you eyed him in confusion. Was he hurting somewhere? He shook his head, his grip on your hips tightening. He whispered something, but with his mouth so far from your ear, his voice was drowned out by the moaning and slapping throughout the room.

     So you leaned forward, your head above his shoulder, but instead of words, you were met with a low groan.

     You could hear the sudden confusion in Wooyoung’s hums on the other end. “Yunho? You good, man? What happened?”

     “I don’t think this is right,” he mumbled.

     “What do you mean?” you whispered.

     “I don’t think we’re doing it right,” he breathed, his voice starting to tremble as he let out the smallest peep of a sound against his will.

     “It’s not like I’ve done this before,” you grumbled. “It’s fine as long as it looks like we’re doing something.”

     “No, I mean-”

     “It’s fine, Yunho. We’ll be done soon anyway.”

     He dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a defeated sigh, his grip loose on your hips as he let out small, shivering sounds, some low, some soft and light. You could hardly hear them at all. 

     You didn’t really know what to do. It would be over as soon as you found your guy. You would apologize and pamper him when it was all over. 

     “He’s headed in,” Wooyoung announced. “Get his attention, please.” 

     “Wow, so polite today,” you mumbled, lifting your head just a bit to glance toward the door. 

     There he was, old, wrinkly, ugly, short. You know how it is. You wondered if he’d even be interested in you with your clothes on. Cause you were not fucking taking them off.

     You grabbed the drugs from Yunho’s pocket, hopped off his lap, and strode across the room. You caught his eye almost immediately. Without a word, you grabbed his tie and pulled his head toward yours, tapping your forehead against his.

     He looked interested already, but at the sight of what was in your hand, his pupils blew out completely. 

     “I brought my toy with me tonight,” you said, slurring your words with a giggle. “But he’s no fun right now. Wanna join us?” 

     He was practically drooling, so you pulled away. If any of that fucking got on you, you would’ve made it everybody’s problem. 

     He nodded, but, stepping just a bit closer, you shook your head, tisking at his desperate agreement.

     “You got anything with you? Dick is no fun tonight.” You pouted a bit. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     To say this was the easiest fucking mission you’d ever done just wasn’t enough. I mean, you got to climb on your man for the first time. You got to dress up and attend a fancy ball with a fancy ball gown. You didn’t have to show your face. You got what you needed without a problem.

     But then you were back in your little home, buried under the rush of the working class. Buried under the city, under the shops and the stars and the people. You and Yunho were alone.

     And to say it wasn’t the most awkwardly silent moment in your entire life simply wouldn’t give justice to the situation. Because how does one go about something so different from anything you’d ever done before? Especially when your relationship status has been set at relaxing routine for years on end. Nothing has ever changed or developed since you were teenagers. 

     Now you were sitting on your little couch, facing the wall, side by side, as there wasn’t much room for any more than just the two of you. There was never the need for any more space. Why was everything so clustered all of a sudden? Everything was so hot. You were flustered, warm, and you needed to change into something lighter. You needed to scoot just a little bit away from him. You needed some fresh air.

     You didn’t move from your spot. 

     He rubbed his palms against his pants. He must’ve been hot too. He was breathing slowly and deeply. He must’ve been flustered. He was blushing from ear to ear. He must’ve been thinking the same things.

     So neither of you moved.

     Your eyes wandered from the floor to your hands to the wall to his eyes. You both looked away. 

     Fuck, this was so embarrassing. You’d lost track of how many years you’d been together. You hardly remembered a time when you didn’t know him. And this was what it all came to?

     “I’m sorry I did that, Yuyu,” you mumbled, nibbling just slightly against your bottom lip. You promised you would apologize and pamper him until he forgave you, but that was all in the heat of the moment. You were too embarrassed now.

     “No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, almost laughing. He did that when he was beyond embarrassed. Practically humiliated. 

     “It was an inappropriate thing to do on a mission. I should have been more careful,” you sighed. 

     He did laugh then, but more because he could finally look at you and see how serious you were. Your little pout was the cutest thing.

     “I think that was a very appropriate place to do that,” he joked, grinning when you tilted your head in disbelief. He patted your knee, settling down his giggles. “It’s okay, baby. It was just a disguise.”

     “You felt good, though,” you mumbled, your head lowered as you gazed up at his cheeks, turning back to their pink flush. His hand twitched on your knee. He wanted to cover his face with his hand, but he kept it planted there, shaking his head instead.

     “I didn’t,” he denied. “You were doing what Youngie said to do, so I didn’t feel anything.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Seriously.” His voice rose, a small scoff leaving his lips when you just sat there. Yunho couldn’t let lies simmer in silent air for much longer than, like, ten seconds.

     “Well,” you started, sitting up a little straighter, “I didn’t feel anything either.” Which was mostly true. You were so focused on the heist. You didn’t have time to focus on… that.

     “Exactly,” he mumbled, eyeing you with a slight pout. “We didn’t do anything. We don’t do stuff like that.”

     “Well, I mean,” you huffed,  taking a few short, puffing breaths. “It wouldn’t be weird for us to do something like that.”

     “I just mean we haven’t,” he muttered, so quiet and muffled between his puckered lips.

     You blinked a few times, staring blankly at your hands in your lap. “We don’t even know how to do it,” you said, biting your lip as you glanced from him to the floor to him again. He had a similar blank, thoughtless expression, but you knew his mind was spinning like crazy. Just like yours. “And anyway,” you started, tilting your head from side to side as you thought, “it’s weird to start that so late, you know? Like, no one’s a virgin at twenty-four. That’s weird…” You eyed him slowly, and he was covering his mouth then, looking out the window with deep red ears. “...Right? That’s weird, right?”

     “I’m a virgin at twenty-five,” he mumbled, glancing at you. You could tell he was grinning behind his long, slender fingers. “I’m a freak, right?”

     You stared at him, thinking honestly about your answer, for just a moment before nodding. “Yeah, you’re a freak.” 

     He nudged your side with his arm with a grumble of some nonsense, words jumbled together quietly and fast.

     “Hmm?” You quirked a brow, staring at him as he avoided your eyes. “What’d you say?”

     “Nothing,” he mumbled, leaning away from you as you leaned closer, trying to catch his attention. “Nevermind,” he said, obviously fighting a smile as you poked at his side, trying to get him to look at you.

     “No~” you groaned. “What did you saaay??”

     You slipped your leg over his as he refused to look your way and sat right back down in that controversial place you’d been discussing. His lap. 

     He shut his eyes and dropped his head back to the couch cushion in disbelief. “You’ll get mad,” he mumbled.

     “I won’t,” you promised, tapping his chest as he stayed silent for another few seconds. “Were you gonna say…” you pretended to think hard, humming softly as you scooted forward on his lap. “...that you actually felt really good?” You, ever so slightly, rolled your hips forward, and his eyes squeezed tighter as his lips pressed into a thin line. He shook his head. “In a room like that? You like that? Have you been a pervert this whole time, baby?” You gasped as his eyes shot open, and you rolled your hips again. His left eye twitched, making cold contact with yours. “So I was right,” you beamed.

     “No,” he said, planting his hands on your hips and halting your tiny movements. “When did you learn to do that?” he asked, frowning deeply.

     “What do you mean, baby,” you mumbled. “Wooyoung taught me earlier today. You were there.” 

     “This is different,” he said, pushing you away slightly. 

     You shook your head. “Nuh uh. I was doing it like this earlier too.” You suppressed a giddy smile as he gazed at you, completely unimpressed. “Why? Does it feel good?”

     “Of course it does,” he grumbled, glancing from his lap to your eyes over and over like he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

     So you cupped his cheeks in your hands and focused his eyes on you. You raised your brows lightly, a soft smile on your lips. “How about a kiss?” 

     His brows twitched. “What?”

     “You know,” you mumbled, “we kiss all the time.”

     “Do we?” he questioned knowingly. 

     “We do it enough. A good amount. The amount people should, I guess.” 

     He laughed, his cheeks puffing up under your soft palms. He leaned with a small sigh into your right hand, not too tense anymore, just enjoying the view.

     “Should we kiss then?” he asked, pressing his lips together as he gazed at your flushed cheeks. You nodded, your eyes wandering around the room, sometimes flickering to his plump pink lips. 

     As he leaned forward, you quickly closed your eyes. Honestly, you didn’t remember the last time you’d kissed. You only remembered the first one, but you were sixteen. Things were definitely…

     Softer. Gentler. So, so delicate as he pressed his lips against yours. His hands left your hips to cup your cheeks, mimicking your position out of comfort or familiarity. You didn’t care much, though, because this felt really nice.

     The way you paused and let your lips melt into each other's embrace. Then you moved just slightly in no particular way. You just wanted to feel him a little more. He moved his lips along with yours, slow, slow and careful. You could feel his quiet breath through his nose, but his pulse was racing under your pinky finger on his neck. It was silent other than the soft movement of your lips. 

     You shifted closer. Maybe he wouldn’t mind so much if he was distracted. A low groan muffled against your lips and rumbled against your chest as your hips pressed against his. His lips parted but never stopped, moving just a bit faster. He moved one hand to the back of your head, his fingers sliding through your hair. He pulled your face closer. His lips urged you to work faster. Meet his demands. You opened your mouth just a bit like he was. You couldn’t find much of a common movement, but it was a mutual understanding of a growing need. Desire. 

     You flinched, though, when you felt something poke against your sensitive area. You backed your hips away in confusion, but his hands were quick to pull them back.

     “It’s okay,” he whispered, his lips giving little pecks to yours as he let you both catch your breath. “It feels good.” His hands found your back, sliding under your shirt and resting on the bare skin of your lower back. “Does it feel good, baby?” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “I think I like it.”

     “I like it,” you repeated in a soft whisper. 

     He smiled against your lips before leaving them completely. When he leaned to the side and kissed your neck so gently, you shivered with a trembling exhale. Your hands rested on his shoulder as his lips moved in little kisses along your neck. His hands slid up your hack, bunching your shirt above his arms as he raised him inch by inch, feeling your soft skin shiver under his fingertips.

     “Yunho,” you breathed, feeling completely embraced by him from every side. It was heaven, and you felt so warm, so delicate and loved.

     He giggled to himself, his lips still attached to your neck, and you scoffed in disbelief, nearly sitting up. 

     “I want to taste you so bad,” he laughed. “Is that weird?”

     “What?” you squeaked, your eyes popping out from their sockets as he held you closer to him from behind, afraid you’d run away from the confession. 

     “I mean, people do that, right?” he mumbled. “Lick and bite and stuff. That’s normal. It feels good, probably.”

     “Whatever,” you grumbled. “Do what you want.”

     He hummed against your neck, a clear smile growing on his sly lips. “Really?” 

     You didn’t answer, instead burying your face in his neck in complete embarrassment. You were so red. So dazed. And he hadn’t even done anything. This should have been nothing. But every little thing he-

     Your hand slapped to your mouth as the weirdest, grossest sound left your lips. His teeth had sunken into your neck without warning, his tongue giving little kisses of apology as he chuckled. Your breath was warm and quick against your palm as he soothed the red mark he’d left. You wanted to hit him. That felt so bad. It felt so fucking good. No, that’s weird. It shouldn’t feel good for someone to bite you. Or lick you or anything. Like, that’s weird. 

     “Baby~” he mumbled, practically whining with how pathetically he stretched it out. He lifted his head, his mouth agape as he panted and watched you with such a… how would you describe it even? It was like his pupils were starting to glaze over. Like he was high on the tension in the air. Or maybe just the look and the sound of you. 

     “What?” you mumbled shyly.

     “I didn’t know you could make sounds like that,” he said, shutting his mouth to swallow hard. “Did you?” He paused, biting his lip. “And you didn’t tell me?”

     “Obviously not,” you grumbled, looking away as you tried to wipe away his kisses on your neck, suddenly feeling a little cold without him there. But you felt hot everywhere else. There was no forgetting about that. Especially in some places. I mean, it’s not like you were the only one.

     You shook your head quickly, trying to clear your thoughts. I mean, who was going to lead everything if your man was already high on air? You had to stay level-headed. 

     His features twitched suddenly, and his eyes shot down to his lap where his… now that you’re fucking looking at it… huge bulge pressed against your… now that you’re fucking noticing it… leaking core. You were mortified, to say the least. Like, that’s disgusting. You were getting your… stuff on his pants. 

     Your eyes shot up to him, though, when he groaned at the sight. His brows curled upward desperately as he suddenly couldn’t wait another second to move on to the next part.

     “Baby,” he breathed. “Is it… fuck.” He smiled slightly, but it faded quickly, his emotions overwhelming him all at once. “Look at you,” he sighed.

     He pulled your hips closer, rubbing your clothed core against him. You shut your lips tightly as a tiny whimper escaped. He rubbed against you just the right way, sliding against your clit as he pulled you back and forth. 

     He was breathing heavily, his head resting back against the couch. He basked in the feeling, his cheeks red and features feverish. 

     You slid your fingers through his soft hair, and he leaned toward your touch, his eyes closing gently with a content sigh. You kissed his parted lips as he ground your hips against him. Your noises were muffled in each other’s lips as everything started to pick up its pace. His hands left your hips to travel up your stomach, but you kept the rhythm steady. You tilted your head as your lips moved faster and harder against his. You whimpered into his mouth as you felt his tongue lick hesitantly against your lips. You let him in, his tongue meeting yours with desperate intention. Your eyes rolled back at the taste of him, and his hands gently cupped your breasts with a low groan. 

     “They’re so soft,” he mumbled against your lips.

     “Did you think they’d be rough?” you giggled, breaking away from the kiss with a playful smack of your lips. Your smile faltered as he gave them a soft squeeze. Feeling his big hands slowly envelop your chest made you blush. Sure you weren’t insecure about your body, but his hands just made everything feel so small. Not that you minded at all.

     His thumb brushed against your nipple, and you whimpered at the sensitive touch. His ear visibly twitched as he took note of your response. He brought his fingers to your nipples and flicked them lightly, and you shivered, plopping your forehead down to his shoulder. 

     “Does that feel good?” he cooed, puckering his lips as he listened to your little hiccups of soft, airy moans as he gently pinched and caressed your aroused buds.

     Your thighs were getting weak as you lazily ground your hips down against him. One of his hands came down to your thigh and tapped it lightly before he lifted you from his lap and laid you carefully down on the couch.

     He sat between your legs resting on his heels as he gazed down at you. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and let it fall from the top of his head. His lips parted, bruised and puffy from your abuse. His eyes were glazed over, staring intently yet so dazedly at you. His cock strained thick against his pants. Fuck, all of it was making you feel so good all on your own. Just looking at him above you.

     You grabbed your shirt and stripped it over your head impatiently. You didn’t care if you were naked in front of him. You were so hot, needy, and maybe he’d take the hint and take his shirt off. That was a rare sight to see. It was a pity. Yunho had the most handsome pecs and the softest, cutest tummy. Your baby was always insecure about it, though.

     When he didn’t move, his eyes staring in complete awe at your chest, you tugged lightly at his shirt. He didn’t move his eyes from you as he tossed it over his head. You bit your lip, your hand spreading over his stomach as you engraved the sight into your mind. Who knew when he’d let you see it again?

     You quickly took your pants off, leaving you in just your pink panties as you laid back down.

     His hands caressed your thighs gently as he carefully eased your legs open, nice and wide for him. “Should I make you feel good?” he asked stroking your thighs from your hips to your knees to the dip between your thighs and your sensitive area.

     You nodded, sinking deeper into the couch as he placed a tentative thumb on the wet of your panties. He glanced from his slow rubs to your face, watching cluelessly as you breathed softly. 

     “I should just take these off,” you decided, feeling a growing frustration in your core. You needed his hands on you now. He nodded in agreement, slipping his fingers under the elastic before you could do it yourself. He hadn’t even finished getting it off your leg when he stopped to stare down at you. He shivered, exhaling with a trembling breath as he slowly reached down and parted your wet lips, revealing your pretty pussy for him. His hips bucked forward just slightly into nothing as he sat there, gazing pathetically at how wet you were. 

     “Yuyu,” you mumbled, taking one of his hands in both of yours. “Touch it more.” You pressed his fingers flat against you, sliding them slowly through your slick. He shuddered, applying just a bit of pleasure over your clit as you guided him there. You sighed, your hips squirming a bit as a gentle pleasure flowed through you. 

     “So pretty,” he whispered, watching drops of thick slick drip onto the couch and hearing the soft squelch of your juices as he gently circled your clit. His head was beginning to hang as he focused on his movement. Eventually, you let go and allowed him to work you how he wanted. Touch you how he pleased. His messy hair fell in front of his eyes, and you gently pushed up back, holding his hair so he could see well.

     Your moans were soft like sighs and tiny whimpers until he stopped his light pressure on your clit and moved to your hole. He eyed you with each movement, worried he’d hurt you or do something that didn’t feel good. As he slipped a single, long, and slender finger inside, your eyes rolled back with a long moan, and his mind spiraled with how it felt. You were so thick and creamy and warm and tight. How could you have been hiding something so perfect from him?

     “Fuck,” he whispered, his finger pulling out before he could even put it all the way in. “Y/n,” he said with a strange determination. “I change my mind.”

     “What do you mean,” you sighed. “We’re already this far.”

     He grabbed you without a word and twisted you around so you were on top of him again. Only this time, he was laying on the couch, and you were sitting on his chest, your ass practically in his face.

     “Yunho!” you squeaked in shock. “What are you doing?!” You frantically turned around to look at him, but he was long gone, his eyes focused solely on one thing.

     “I don’t want to figure everything out right now,” he mumbled. “I just wanna get to the good part.” 

     “The good part,” you scoffed. “What the hell are you doing?”

     He lifted your hips and pulled them over his face, and your cheeks grew a deep red in embarrassment and confusion and so many overwhelming thoughts. You felt his warm breath against your core, and your thighs trembled, unsure of what to do. He gently pulled you lower until your pussy was aligned with his puffy lips. You whimpered as he gave you a soft kiss.

     “Yuyu,” you mumbled, slowly lowering your chest to his stomach as your limbs started to grow weak.

     He licked a slow, fat strip between your lips, and you jolted at the wet, lude, so fucking pleasurable sensation. You raised your hips, your brows curling and mouth falling agape, but he wrapped his hands around your thighs and pulled you back down with a long groan as he did it again.

     “Fuck,” you whimpered, your voice raising an octave as your entire body trembled in his hold. It felt so good, so vulnerable, but it made it feel even better. His soft vibrations as he breathed and groaned against your core… fuck he was so hot. “Keep going,” you mumbled, your cheek pressing against his bare stomach as you let the sensation take over your senses. He kissed you and licked you in that same area you’d shown him with your hands, rolling his lips and tongue over your clit with a gentle yet eager pressure. You had to grind your pussy against his mouth. For your sanity, you had to. You were moaning and whimpering with each rhythmic roll and lick and kiss. He was fucking drowning, and he loved it, and he was eating you like the sweetest dessert, desperate to swallow every last drop. 

     If it was so easy for him, though, it couldn’t be too hard for you either. I mean, it was just sitting there, straining against his pants. You couldn’t not be curious. 

     You mustered the strength to sit up a bit and fumbled with his pants until you unzipped the zipper and unbuttoned the button. It took you much longer than it should’ve, but your hands were fucking shaking, your eyes were watering, and your mind kept shifting back to the beautiful man lapping at your pussy. Fuck, it felt so good.

     But once his length sprung loose from his pants, you wanted it inside of you. You didn’t know how big was big, but Yunho was big. It was veiny and worked up from all of the teasing, and you wanted to make him feel so good. Make you both feel good by getting it deep inside of you. But, for now, you should return the favor to your hardworking man. 

     You wrapped an eager hand around him, not sure how much pressure to apply, but by the way his hips bucked up into your hand, you were probably doing something right. You moved from the bottom to the tip slowly, smiling slightly as you saw a little bead of precum at the top. Was he liking it? You were sure he’d like anything you did to him, but he was making you feel so good. You should reward him, right?

     You swiped your thumb over the tip and spread the new lubricant around, a soft squelch delighting your ears as you set a slow rhythm. His mouthwork faltered and turned more into heavy breaths against your core. His hips were trembling with little uncontrolled rolls into the air for more friction.

     “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, giving little kisses to your clit that sent gentle bits of pleasure throughout your body. 

      “You’re really big, Yuyu,” you whispered, licking your lips as you prepared to dive in for your treat. “You think I can take it all?”

     “I don’t know,” he sighed. “You’re so tight here. I can hardly fit my tongue in.” He gave a show of sliding his sopping tongue slowly into your clenching hole, and you whimpered, grinding your pussy pathetically on his mouth.

     “Just get me nice and loose, okay?” you panted. “I’m gonna get it all inside.”

     You flattened your tongue along its length, licking from the base to the tip before pressing the tip between your lips. He was so thick, stretching your mouth just slightly as you circled your tongue around him. His hands gripped your thighs with muffled whines as he opened you up slowly on his tongue.

     “You even taste handsome,” you mumbled before taking him in your mouth again.

     You pushed just a bit deeper, keeping your hands flat on his hips in case he felt too good and accidentally choked you on his handsome cock. Yunho’s fingers made your loose mouth tighten just a bit along his length as he inserted a finger into your tight hole, and he hissed lightly. As he set a slow pace, feeling around your drenched hole for anything that felt really good, you set a pace, too, with your little head bobs. Although you couldn’t go too far down, you stroked the rest of his length with your hand.

     He let out tiny gasps and low groans as you worked him toward ecstasy. And, fuck, you could feel it too. Everything was building up. He could hardly drink everything you were leaking as he pushed two fingers in, thrusting against your gooshy walls and pulling moans from your lips. The vibrations sent shivers of pleasure through him, which made him work harder. You were pulling each other toward climax quickly, but that’s not what you wanted.

     His fingers left your hole as your body lifted from his. You wanted the pleasure back as soon as it went away, but you knew there was something so, so much better waiting for you.

     “Fuck, this is taking too long,” you groaned as you flipped over until he was between your legs once again. 

     He giggled at your impatience, but his cock was practically begging for some sort of relief before it started hurting with how hard it was. You were both desperate, not even thinking anymore. Who cared if this was your first time? The feeling was all the same. You needed to be connected. Right fucking now.

     “Fuck, put it in,” you panted, pulling him by his neck flush against you. 

     He chuckled, giving you a soft kiss on your cheek, then your neck, then your ear. “It'll hurt, baby. Even I know you’re not ready.” You groaned as he pushed two fingers into your hole, setting a quick pace as he sensed your impatience. “I’ll give you what you want,” he sighed, “if you cum once.”

     Your eyes widened. “Seriously?” You scoffed. “You don’t want our first orgasms to be together?” You fluttered your lashes as he shook his head in disbelief. He pushed in another finger, and you tensed up a bit as he began to actually stretch you open.

     “This won’t be my first,” he whispered, scissoring his fingers against your walls as you breathed heavily against his ear, gasping out of shock and jolts of pleasure. 

     “Are you serious??”

     “Ever since Sannie mentioned us having sex, I’ve been so fucking horny,” he chuckled. “I think, like, every night, I went to the bathroom and came while thinking about you.”

     His fingers were almost forced out of you as you clenched down on them, a deep blush covering your cheeks as he glanced toward you teasingly. 

     “You like that?” he asked, curling his fingers up as he thrust them in faster and faster. Your head buried into the couch cushion as you panted and moaned, lifting your hips to meet his fingers desperately. The pleasure was building, and every time he fucked his fingers into that one spot, you thought you’d fall apart right there. When he finally figured out that perfect spot, he rammed his fingers into it repeatedly until you were gasping for air as your entire body squirmed, working toward that release. 

     “Fuck, fuck, fuck-!” you whined, “Yunho~” He kissed you gently, nibbling on your neck as he grunted softly, using all of his strength to keep his rhythm as your eyes rolled back, body trembling. The pleasure built and built until everything fucking crashed, and your nails dug into his arms as you came with a long cry. He rode out your high, stroking your walls gently before pulling his fingers out quickly. 

     “Good girl,” he sighed, kissing your forehead as you whimpered, trying to calm down. Your eyes could hardly focus on one thing, your eyes fuzzy and brain scrambled. “I’ll give you what you want,” he mumbled. “Such a good girl…”

     His cock pressed against your hole, and it pushed just slightly inside. You winced, your eyes squinting at the oddly painful stretch. I mean, you knew it would be painful, but this was a bit unnecessary, right…? 

     Yunho stopped and lifted his head with a small smile on his lips, and, as much as it felt much better to stay still than to move, you wanted to get to the part that felt good. 

     “Baby, please?” you whispered, looking from one eye to another as you fought the urge to just get on top of him and put it in yourself.

     “Did I make you feel good?” he asked, pointing to his lips. “With my mouth?”

     You nodded immediately. “Yup, it felt so good.” It did, but that didn’t fucking matter right then.

     “You tasted really good,” he mumbled. “And your mouth…” he licked his lips, “...felt so good. So wet and tight.”

     “My pussy will feel even better, baby, please.” You didn’t want to whine or beg, but this was getting ridiculous.

     “Your pussy likes me, I think,” he thought aloud. “You know it flutters when I do something it likes. I wonder what that’ll feel like when I’m inside.”

     As his hips became flush with yours, you whimpered in slight confusion, a bit uncomfortable, but mostly confused, and also so, so fucking full. He was shivering softly, but you couldn’t find yourself having such small reactions. He was enveloping you completely, filling you to the brim, and your entire body was tense and limp, weak but so hyper at the same time. 

     Your fingers grabbed his hair with one hand and gripped his shoulder with the other, your mouth agape as you brought him closer frantically. You pulled his chest to yours, his face to your neck, your leg around his hip.

     It wasn’t because it hurt at all. It just felt so inexplicably good that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You wanted him to move so bad, but you couldn’t let him move or you'd completely lose yourself to pleasure. 

     “Yunho,” you whimpered, holding him tighter, desperately. “Yuyu, fuck… ’s so go..ood… j’s stay here… stay here, b…by, ‘s so good~”

     He could hardly understand you, but he was so glad you weren’t letting him move. He would cum right then and there. You were so tight. So tense, squeezing him like crazy. You were so warm and wet… It was clouding his mind. Even locked down like this, his hips couldn't help gently grinding against you, looking for any kind of friction. 

     He wanted to pound into you, fuck. He wanted to watch you go crazy. He hadn’t even done anything yet. Imagine what you’d look like, completely broken and fucked out, overtaken by your desire.

     “Can I kiss you, baby?” You nodded quickly, letting him lift his head so he could smash his puffy lips to yours. He untangled your limbs from his and wasted no time in slowly shifting his cock in your sopping hole. He groaned happily, rolling his eyes back as he ground inside of you in little pulses. 

     “Yuyu~” you whined. “Please, please, baby…” You kissed him hard before he could speak, desperately pushing your hips against him. “More... Fuck~” you whimpered, your fingers running through his hair as your tongues lapped and tangled together desperately.

     Finally… FINALLY, he set a rhythm, slow and trembling, as you panted against each other’s lips. He rolled his hips, his hips gently tapping yours with each slide in. He reached so far, your pussy tight around him, sending shivers throughout your bodies. You bit your lip as breathy moans escaped. 

     He cursed under his breath, whimpering as he kissed you lazily, picking up the speed of his thrusts. As your hips collided with more force, your moans matched the pace, and he basked in your pretty noises, hardly able to contain his own. 

     His hands slid along your body and squeezed your soft stomach gently, gripping you as he thrusted harder. “Everyday,” he groaned, kissing your ear. “We’ll do this every day.”

     “Okay,” you panted, your eyes rolling back with a squeak as he hit that perfect spot with a particularly hard thrust. “Mm… Yuyu… ngh~ you’re doing so good~”

     “Yeah?” he mumbled, sitting up on his legs. It was cold, but the sight of your tits bouncing, your fucked out expression… you were so ruined.

     “Yeah, baby~” you hummed.

     “I’ve wanted to fill you up for a.. hh… while now,” he grunted. “Thought about your pretty pussy taking my cock.”

     “Me too mmm~” His brows curled as he took steadying breaths. 

     “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he groaned.

     “I wan’d t-to touch you s…o bad,” you moaned, pushing your hips in the air as his pace quickened, his hands grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer. “Thought I was being bad,” you panted. “But yo…ou were being bad too, huh?” You tried to give a playful smirk, but it faded quickly. 

     He nodded eagerly, his head dropping each thrust and little noise from your lips brought him so close to cumming. He desperately brought his fingers to your clit, circling the nub until you were a moaning mess, practically screaming and gasping as he slammed his hips against yours. 

     “Cum, baby, please?” he begged, biting his lip as you fluttered around him clenching and teasing as you were getting so, so close. “Come on,” he whimpered. “Wanna f-feel you, please.. ngh~”

     Your hips were squirming, jaw dropped as the pleasure built. You could hardly see through your tears, your clit adding to the pleasure of each of his ecstatic thrusts. Fuck, you were so close… so close… fuck, it felt so good.

     “Yu-ngh yuyu ah~ baby, don’t stop,” you moaned, your eyes squeezing shut forcefully as your pleasure reached its peak for the secind time that night, your body spasming as you creamed on his cock, your juices spilling from your hole and soaking the both of you. 

     He stilled after a single thrust in your clenched, orgasm-filled hole, whimpering and moaning as his cum spilled into you. He was trembling as he kept cumming hard and long, both of you panting as you tried to calm down. Your hearts were beating, cheeks wet with overwhelmed tears. He pulled out with a shudder and collapsed beside you, pulling you to his chest as he was hit with the raw cold air.

     You were shivering, wrapped in his arms as you tried to clear your head. You were content there, your mind fuzzy and limbs trembling. You were both completely exhausted, but Yunho took the initiative to bring you both to your feet and drag your legs toward the shower. 

     He wiped you both up, laid you both down on the bed, snuggled up in your blanket, and you were both instantly asleep.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Y/n~ Yunho~” San whined as he trudged into your bedroom. “Jongho was being mean to me again~” 

     Your eyes were hardly opening when San was inviting himself onto the bed. But he stopped as he saw Yunho’s shirtless body wrapped around your shirtless body. He gasped, nearly falling off the bed.

     “Y/n!” he yelled, and Yunho was spooked awake, raising his head in shock with his eyes hardly open. “Did he force himself on you?! You can tell me! I’ll get him fucking killed!” He pointed at Yunho angrily, but you just rolled your eyes, snuggling back into your pillow.

     “Sannie?” Yunho mumbled, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes. “What are you doing here? Did you have a bad dream again?”

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     The van was rowdy and noisy when you and Yunho hopped in. You sat beside him with a giddy smile, holding his hand as you all rode to your hideout as usual. 

     “Aw~ they’re so cute,” Seonghwa cooed. “You guys are the ideal romance. So wholesome and perfect.” He grinned at you, and you blushed lightly.

     “Than-”

     “No, they have sex now,” Jongho interrupted. “Everyone knows that.”

[mymoshangthoughts]

something i think about with regards to og!shang qinghua

i totally think he smashed mobei jun's face in with the rock

like okay the scene plays out basically the same, except instead of thigh-hugging, the original goods was groveling and hiding and dodging and only BARELY managed to survive for long enough for mobei jun to faint

so here he is, surrounded by corpses and a fainted demon and theres this big ass rock over there and he's like "yeah, thats the pragmatic thing to do"

but see, airplane and the original goods both vastly over-estimated the ability of a rock to kill a demon lord. so yeah, mobei jun has a nasty broken nose and he wakes up feeling like death warmed over in the middle of the woods but he's alive (this is btw the exact reason that the system was willing to let airplane do it, bc it wasnt gonna kill mobei jun anyway and it was what the og goods did)

and he was JUST conscious enough to see the original goods bash his face in

so mobei jun is sitting there like "okay, yeah, so imma find that fucker and imma enslave him and then when he runs out of use to me, imma kill his ass" because he's angry enough right now that simply killing og!shang qinghua just does Not feel good enough

and their relationship over the years is basically a big game of cat and mouse with them trying to fuck each other over. mostly the original goods trying to kill mobei jun and mobei jun just like "no imma wait to kill him until AFTER ive had a thorough revenge but fuck he makes it tempting to kill him right now" and og!shang qinghua highkey actually reminds him of his uncle. they're both the two-faced type who can smile to your face and stab you in the back and he's sorta thinking "if i cant resist killing one stupid human until the opportune time, how am i going to not kill my uncle??"

and basically it's just like..... lowkey shizaya (drrr!) vibes between them? and look, mobei jun is Very satisfied when he finally kills that worm og!shang qinghua but he also feels a certain loss because even though theres srsly no love lost between them, the original goods was basically mobei jun's companion for longer than anyone else in his life (enemy? frenemy? rival????) and it's just a sort of weird empty feeling after he's dead

and i just like thinking about how Different their relationship was because i like thinking about all of the changes that airplane accidentally created because he really didnt know that much about their original relationship. og!shang qinghua was such a footnote in the novel that there really wasnt any time spent on "oh yeah, og!moshang has a super weird hateship and shang qinghua did backstab mobei jun but that wasnt actually NEW, og!shang qinghua tried to kill off the king of the north at least once a month or so"

anyway i think the distinctions in the relationships are important for moshang reasons, because airplane and og!shang qinghua ARE different people, so they had to have made different decisions over the years, and those differences are why mobei jun was very much in love with airplane and not in love with og!shang qinghua

(altho i do enjoy og!moshang, but i will die on the hill that their relationship is different and whatever love might exist between them would be different. my hcs might not represent accurately how og!moshang's relationship was canonically but i just think it's important to make those distinctions)

but all these thoughts lend themselves to "what if pidw!mobei jun met airplane!shang qinghua?" because look, if they really were collaborating for so many years, he would KNOW og!shang qinghua. and as such, it wouldnt take him long to be like "okay but you're seriously NOT shang qinghua tho?!?!" and i love his confusion. like i dont think he'd show up and be like "guh, shang qinghua, gotta kill that rat again", i think he'd show up and be like "......well thats definitely shang qinghua's skin but that sure as fuck isnt shang qinghua"

and look, i want the chaos of that.

pidw!mobei jun and svsss!mobei jun discussing why the fuck shang qinghua is a completely different person and coming to their own conclusions (also naturally realizing a thing or two about cucumber-bro bc thats the other big notable change between worlds. bing-mei is fine, pidw!mobei jun always know that bing-ge is secretly pathetic)

also potential for kidnapping? like pidw!mobei jun nabs airplane with the intention of learning just who the fuck he is. leaving absolutely no room for discussion bc he's determined to figure this shit out. or maybe he just approaches his other self directly. or fuck it, if he goes straight to bing-mei because he's like "okay this is above my pay grade, boss of this dimension will prolly have an idea of whats happening"

also double penetration with two mobei jun's and one airplane lmfao. look im a simple man with simple pleasures

altho on the note of og!shang qinghua, thinking about this diabolical fuck does have my inner villain fucker thoroughly entertained and i wanna think about au's with both airplane and og!shang qinghua in play

there's always the good ol' sibling au's (which will always make me scream to the fucking sky "why the fuck wasnt airplane given a NAME so that i dont have to make one up for him!!!"), those definitely have the appeal of i can keep airplane!shang qinghua's design the same

so lets go with.... shang jingqi (original flavor) and shang feiyu (airplane), for simplicities sake while i explore stupid au ideas lol

so lesseee shang feiyu is born as shang jingqi's twin but since qinghua is a courtesy name and he doesnt actually know og!shang qinghua's birth name, he just knows that ONE of them is supposed to become "shang qinghua" and get killed by mobei jun. and look, he tries really hard not to get attached to his twin. he's used to keeping emotional distance from family, this should be fine, easy even. his twin even has a sort of asshole personality. so if he just doesnt get attached to shang jingqi and just lets the og plot eat up his twin, everything will be just fine and he can live a peaceful life, right? RIGHT???

but ofc he gets attached. bc even tho shang jingqi has a shitty personality and might actually be the original shang qinghua who backstabbed mobei jun and deserved what he got--look, thats HIS treacherous asshole and shang feiyu is ATTACHED okay

so shang jingqi and shang feiyu BOTH wind up joining cang qiong because shang feiyu isn't gonna just leave his twin to die but also he doesnt wanna die so he's really trying to figure out a third option to figure out how the fuck to dodge this all shang-murderfest thing when one day his brother comes home from a mission like "so i might have murdered a demon lord with a rock??" and shang feiyu is going to FREAK OUT bc either that was mobei jun and he is Not Dead and Coming For Their Asses or it WASNT mobei jun and its someone who would make mobei jun Very Angry if was harmed and shang feiyu is ready to hug as many thighs as he needs to so that they can get out of this alive!!! but shang jingqi already has a bit of a murder-boner for mobei jun, even moreso when he realizes theres like Chemistry between mobei jun and his brother and just Nope. that aint happening.

shang feiyu: i am trying to keep you alive wiLL YOU PLZ STOP TRYING TO PISS OFF THE DEMON LORD?!

shang jingqi: and IM trying to protect your ass from demon cock, thank me later

shang feiyu: ?!?!?! WHAT DOES THAT WHAT

[crusty-chronicles]

Bonus Airheaded S/O Headcannons: Kite (Hunter x Hunter)

The amount of heart attacks you give this poor man.

Honestly, he worries about you more than anything 

Please stop trying to pet every apex predator you come across. 

No, he doesn't want a closer look, so put that thing down.

Wait, why the hell is it following you around now!?!? No you cannot keep it!!!

He's not a fan of the effort it takes to keep you out of trouble. If he hadn't known you as long as he did, he would have left you to fend for yourself like a certain ruins hunter.

But the fact of the matter is he has a soft spot for you. Which is constantly exploited thanks to your naivety.

You're constantly eating poisoned berries on surveys.

And he's distressed.

Having to pry open your mouth like a dog who refuses to let go of what it has.

“Spit it out! Spit it out! It's bad for you! Hey! Don't run away!!!”

Squishing your cheeks together once he caught up to you and having to give your jaw a shake to get them out.

He makes sure to count them top, just to make sure you spit all of them out.

He babies you only when you're not out on an important job.

Otherwise, he expects you to take care of yourself. You should be plenty capable if you made it this far, and he can't afford to get sidetracked by your antics.

But when the job is more lax and less dangerous, he's putting 110% to keep you out of trouble.

“Kite I think I got bit by something,” you informed, gesturing towards your back 

And he's sure it can't be that bad, right?

Wrong.

Dead wrong.

There's a gigantic pustule and he's biting back the response of, “You're gonna die.” Instead, making you drink what he hopes is the right antidote.

You somehow got separated from him?

He's using his en to search for you. Ripping you a new one once he finds you.

“I told you not to wander off. Now look at you. All scuffed up. You should be lucky I have antiseptic to clean you up.”

He's panicking inside though. He makes it a point to put a tracker on your phone from then on. 

You broke your arm climbing to get something?

He's making you a splint and taking you back to camp. You're done for the day. Scratch that, he's sending you home.

Kite’s soft spot for you stems from knowing you since you were kids. Going back to his days in the sewer.

You'd stumbled your way in there one day and the rest was history.

He had barely come back from a food run to see you playing around with the dogs. 

Lifting them up and letting them lick your face before flipping another one over to rub its belly.

He immediately asked you to leave.

This was his home after all, he was not about to share it.

But instead of getting defensive, you pouted at him.

“No fair. You're hogging all the dogs in town. Share some with the rest of us, will ya?”

And before he could respond, his stomach growled. You looked at him with a thoughtful expression. (One of the few times he's ever seen you think.)

“I can bring food if you let me stay. Other supplies too,” you offered before gesturing behind you.

“I think that one's about to have puppies.”

So against his better judgment, Kite let you stay.

You kept your promise the next day. Coming back bruised up beyond belief. A shiner around your eye that he couldn't help but feel bad about.

Yet despite that, the small bag of food you brought was unharmed.

“I tried to get enough for everybody. Well, everybody except me. I can go another day without eating.”

He thinks you're an idiot for not wanting to feed yourself. Preparing to eat what you brought, and catching sight of your black eye once more.

He knows he shouldn't care. He's only known you for a day. You were practically a stranger.

Yet he's splitting up his portion and offering one half to you.

He’s sure to follow you the next day. Wanting to know just what the hell was your deal.

He saw you swindle a medicine bottle. Then some fruits. Then a loaf of bread. And before you could take anything else, you were caught.

Sprinting as fast as you could away with three men hot on your trail.

He knew how this ended. They'd catch you and you'd lose most of what you had.

But something unexpected happened. You turned around to pursue your attackers. Setting off your haul to the side as they caught up to you.

He was shocked to see you give them hell. Fending them off despite your hunger-panged form.

Biting, kicking, and scratching until you won.

He'd already made up his mind about you when you came back.

“I'll go with you from now on.” He explained.

“But the deal was I'd get the food?”

“Not anymore. We'll go together, okay?”

And when you two started learning nen, he realized just how strong you really were.

You knocked him flat out with your aura output the first time you tried ren.

He awoke to your concerned face and Ging's amused expression.

“This one's a little monster. They'll pass the hunter's exam with ease. Well, the physical aspect of it anyways.”

Your bond was something he wouldn't trade for the world, despite the trouble you put him through.

Where one went, the other wasn't too far behind.

You did everything together.

Lived together.

Hell, you even showered together from time to time.

There was nothing that needed to be said. He was yours the same way you were his.

Something everyone could see.

Kite has the tendency to be blunt. Often calling you out on your stupidity without restraint.

“You're so stupid, I'm not even sure there's a brain up there.”

“You’re an absolute fool. It's a surprise you've made it this far.”

But don't get it twisted. He's putty in your hands. Cooing sweet nicknames when you've been on your best behavior.

He'll call you: love/lovely, sweetheart, hun, and darling.

Jealousy? He's been with you so long that the thought doesn't even cross his mind.

You're so entwined in each other's lives, he can't see you returning someone else's advancements.

Not like they would be able to get through your head anyways.

But he does worry he'll be too blunt with you one day.

Say something he absolutely does not mean and have you leave because of it.

He's protective of you to a fault. Even though he knows you're more than capable of handling your own battles.

He just worries your naivety will get you in trouble one day.

It's a subtle form of protection though. Standing in front of you or pulling you back from danger.

Kite's patience allows him to put up with you perfectly, although he can't deny a part of him finds your ignorance endearing.

---------------------------------

MASTERLIST

[physalian]

In Defense of Fanfiction (Or the perfect starting point for your original novel)

Fanfic gets a bad rap pretty much everywhere except Tumblr. It’s misunderstood and misrepresented by its average works, seen as juvenile and cringey, or a banal point of contention between a famous person or piece of media and its fans.

Outside of fanfic that writes about real people, especially smut fics of real people, I support the art wholeheartedly. Fictional characters are one thing, but personally, caricaturing a celebrity’s life for public consumption and writing or drawing them in compromising content without their consent is a little weird. You do you. Don’t like, don’t read, as they say.

Fanfic is the perfect starting point for a few reasons:

It places you in a creative box and forces you to work within those constraints

It does all the worldbuilding and character concepts for you

It lets you write way outside your comfort zone

When published and receiving feedback, it boosts your self-confidence

It's incredibly flexible

It’s practice. All practice is good practice

—

Behold your creative box

When I was little I had no idea the majority of fanfic was shipping fics. I always pictured and looked for canon-divergent alternate universes. Like, what if X happened in this episode instead of Y? What if this character never died?

Fanfic demands you work within someone else’s canon, whether it’s an OC in the canonical world, or the canonical characters in an AU. These are like little bowling bumpers saving you from the gutter, but also keeping you on a straight-ish path toward the pins.

The indecisiveness of too many choices can be too intimidating when you’re first starting out. You want to be a writer but you have no idea where to begin, what genre to pick, what characters you want to chronicle, what themes you want to explore.

Even if it sits on your computer never to see the light of day, you still got those creative juices flowing.

Pre-packaged worldbuilding

Sometimes all we want is to get to the good stuff. Maybe I want to write a story about elemental magicians but Last Airbender already exists and I just want to play in a pre-existing sandbox. So I write some OCs into that world and have a free-for-all.

I don’t have to come up with my own lore, world history, magic system rules and mechanics, politics, geography—any of it. I get to just focus on the characters.

Even if you’re writing an AU, like say a coffee shop AU, you don’t have to think about brand new characters, you can just think “What would M do?” and go from there. The trade-off is your readers will expect canonical characters to behave in-character, but I think it’s worth it.

Stretch beyond your comfort zone!

Do you hate writing action scenes? Go practice with a shonen anime fic. Need work on dialogue? Write some high-fantasy fic, or a courtroom drama. Practice a fistfight by watching fistfights and writing what you see, and do it over and over again until what you read makes you feel like you're watching what’s on screen.

But beyond that—practice genres that you aren’t super familiar with. If you’re new to fantasy, write fantasy fic. Or a mystery novel/show, thriller, comedy, satire, adventure, what have you. The nature of fanfic still gives you those “guardrails” and you can get some brutally honest feedback on how you’re doing.

And, of course, the realm of M-rated romance and smut fics. I haven’t because I think I would die of embarrassment if I tried and I never intend to include sex scenes in my works anyway, but if you do want to, use the internet as your test audience. Post it on a throwaway account if you’re nervous.

Build that self-confidence!

The fandoms I used to write for are super dead, so it’s insane how I still get email notifications that so-and-so liked my fic to this day. Comments are as elusive as ever, but random strangers on the internet telling me they liked my work is a magical reassurance that my writing isn’t actually awful.

Random strangers on the internet are, as we all know, beholden to no moral obligation to be kind to your little avatar face, or be kind to be polite. So a rando taking the time to like my work or even leave a positive comment can feel more honest than one of my friends telling me what they think I want to hear.

I tend to avoid the more present aspects of fandom like online communities, forums, social media, what have you, so I get a delayed and diluted aspect of any given fandom through completed works. Which means, in general, I get to avoid the worst and most toxic aspects of fandom and get to sift through positive feedback and critique.

Even if your fanfic isn’t written with stellar prose, it’s fanfic. We don’t expect Pulitzer-prize winning content. And if your work isn’t up to snuff, people are more likely to just ignore it than put you on blast (at least in my experience, I never got a bad comment or a “flame” in the old FFN days).

Fanfic doesn’t care about the rules of published literature

On the one hand, try not to practice bad habits, but with this point I mean that your layout, punctuation, formatting, paragraph styles, chapter length–all of it is beholden to no rules. I get as annoyed as the next reader with giant blocks of paragraphs, or the double-spacing between pages of single-sentence paragraphs, but if the story’s good enough I might ignore it.

There’s more than just straight narrative fics, though. People write “chat” fics, or long streams of text and group chat conversations. The scene breaks can come super rapidly–I’ve seen fics with a single sentence in between line breaks to show the passage of time. And without the polish of a traditionally published novel, I’ve never seen a purer distillation of author voice in any medium more than fanfic.

All practice is good practice

Even if it’s crack fiction, or a one-off one-shot, or something meant to be lighthearted and straightforward and free from complex worldbuilding and intricate plots. It really helps break writer’s block when you can shift gears and headspaces entirely and you can get relatively instant feedback to keep you motivated.

Beyond that, the “guardrails” help you stay consistent as far as character growth and personality if you struggle with designing rich characters.

The most recent fanfic I wrote was just a couple years ago, for a dead fandom I didn’t think would get any traffic whatsoever. It wasn’t my original works, but the feedback on that fic gave me the kick in the butt I needed to get back into writing more seriously.

—

In short, I support fanfic. I may not be proud of my earliest fics' prose now, but I am proud that they walked so I can now run.

[applestorms]

do you have lawlight fic recs

*cracks knuckles*

(Not) According to Plan by FlamesRise: this fic was Fundamental to me figuring out what my ideal light (smut) characterization is. fun lawlight lawyers au that is also mostly kinda just about light manipulating himself into an uncomfortable sexual scenario yay👍(this really sets the stage for what the rest of these recs are gonna look like so prepare yourself lmfao. aka these are gonna be like, 90% questionable smut and/or dead dove, i just don't read much else... 🫠 oops)

blood in the walls of the yagami house (series) by qu_ilinn: gotta put the lawlight brocon on there since this is basically what got me into the DN fandom. grins. one of the best Terrible Horrible L depictions ever, i love this series sm lolol <33

rewards for fools by autumnstar88: cough. and so we notice a trend. this is once again light putting himself in a horny situation he's uncomfortable with and then freaking out as he likes it too much LOL, this time set immediately after he gets his memories back during yotsuba. light in a skirt, what else is there to say.

caligula would have blushed by findingsaturn: medical kink going wilddddd this blew my fucking mind the first time i read it. an absolutely delectable ratio of body horror to weird sex stuff, chefs kiss. i also rec corrosive wash and self-surgery, by the same author.

literally anything from the alignmentverse by praise_lilith and tsukinousagi: this is easily one of my favorite lawlight series, every single fic in this collection is absolutely fucking golden. 10/10 some of the funniest light and L characterization ever.

A complex fool and a simplex fool. by gomikyun: also some hilarious lawlight characterization, this time in the canonverse. i don't usually go for bottom L but this is The Exception. shout out to that one time i took like three hours searching for this just to find this stellar quote:

Why, why didn't I do this before? L has to hold himself back from letting out a whiny groan. He should have just pushed Light down and fucked himself ontop of him instead of playing tennis on that stupid fucking court. Would have been a great icebreaker. And made headlines, probably. ‘Hideki Ryuga and Light Yagami, top scorers on the To-Oh entrance exams have a friendly game of… gay sex on the tennis court. This year is looking to be quite interesting!’

Diamond by exAm: another top 3 for me in terms of lawlight being funny and horrible. one of if not The best het lawlight dynamic i've ever read (man light/woman L, in this case). light is such an egotistical, stupid asshole here, hubris through the fucking roof, and it works fantastic. also fun to see L dealing w/ canon-typical DN sexism LMFAO

Back to then by LiveLongEatWell: this one just has great smut idk what else to say. shrugs. also L obsessively fucking himself into the worst possible scenario lolol here's how KIRA could've actually won

Trading Blows and Idle Hands by gayraito (Mercurial_Magic): more yotsuba smut shenanigans, very fun. honestly most things by this author are great, hard to pick just one... The Gift is also great and somewhat inspired some of my own android light in superegos (read my lawlight fics too 🫵 boy)

draw it out by emmerii: VERY noncon no-memories light. smiles. this one makes me actually insane hides in my evil little corner

actually if we're doing the more heavily dead dove ones, there's also Take Me With You or Let Me Follow by WhyDoesEverythingHappenSoMuch and I will take what's mine, create what god would never design by FlamesRise for the specific concept of L being a freak over L's corpse. necrophilia warning? :]

Kouyaku by Not_default: basically a KIRA wins au where L doesn't actually die. sometimes L deserves to be the one locked in the basement ig. very very nice

The Dreadful Need by the_gabih: somewhat non-traditional omegaverse au that is also just about very dubcon prison sex. this makes my brain fucking melt please don't ask why

Perfect Life by foreskinsmoothie: probably the longest thing on this list, this one Fucked Me Up when i finished it a couple weeks ago. OCD light to the extreme, which is additionally Made Worse by L kidnapping him for shits and giggles 👍 that being said, i absolutely adore the ending of this one, so. if you can get past the graphic self-amputation, this is a (very fucked up) lil treat :>

Kira's Guide to the Munchies by plant1r: ok this is more like matsulight but i have to include it for light's characterization alone, AND ALSO NEAR. one of the best near depictions ever. this is hysterical, my favorite weed light fic everrr

praise the sweetness by cxtangerina: read my fic boy 🫵 cult leader L au. unreality apocalypse world wammy's cult weirdness. what more can i say. this is probably gonna have a meronia sequel in the near future so watch out for that (after i post this other lawlight fic anyway, which is ALMOSTTT done uwu everybody clap)

that enuf for you anon?

[kradogsrats]

I've been kind of hesitant to voice this analysis/theory because honestly even I find it hella depressing, but... here goes.

At the end of s6e5: "Moonless Night," we have this kind of cryptic sequence with Viren:

Now, this isn't exactly subtle. It starts with a callback to Aaravos's "the human mage, already tainted by darkness and destined to play right into my hands," line (and a nice Callum > fake pearl > real pearl > Viren cut sequence) and ends with the kind of spider-and-fly imagery you bust out when you want the audience to really get the point. This sequence tells us in no uncertain terms, Aaravos will inevitably use Viren again... at least one more time.

I say it's cryptic because the eventual payoff is a lot more subtle, particularly since everything escalates so rapidly and is actually presented as a crazy, unexpected twist. Basically, there's no follow-up until s6e8: "We All Fall Down," where we have a highly specific series of events:

Sol Regem, under Phaaravos's direction, attacks Katolis

Viren decides to make the sacrifice of both doing dark magic again and losing his own life to protect the people from Sol Regem's fire

Viren successfully casts the spell and the people are protected

Phaaravos does this:

Once Viren has cast the spell (and is probably dying), Aaravos is pleased and ends Sol Regem's attack.

Aaravos needs three things to free himself: the pearl, the staff, and a sympathetic mage. He can't just possess Callum and free himself at the start of the season, because—whether that would work or not—he doesn't have the staff. He knows, however, that Viren is going back to Katolis, so he can influence Callum to switch the real and fake pearls. Then, when Viren arrives, the pearl and the staff are lined up... but Viren is no longer sympathetic (and possessing him wouldn't really do any good because like, come on... he's in prison).

The way that the attack on Katolis plays out gives him everything: the pearl and staff are abandoned in the chaos, leaving them free for Claudia. Viren, being dead, is also now unable to influence Claudia directly—not to mention that, despite what he told her in s6e1, he chose to do dark magic again.

There are several reasons that could be behind Phaaravos's smarmy little smirk there—either he's satisfied that the staff is in play and will be easily accessible to Claudia instead of buried under a castle's worth of rubble, or he's satisfied that Viren is going to die and that removes what could actually have been a very serious obstacle to Claudia's persistence, or... he's pleased that Viren has caved and done dark magic again, whether because that's leverage he can use with Claudia, or for a more insidious reason.

We can stop here, because "Aaravos uses Viren's loyalty to his family and Katolis to manipulate him to his death and to set up his daughter for digging herself deeper in aiding his own return" is honestly plenty of payoff as far as Aaravos "using" Viren a final time. BUT just to get a little tinfoil-hat, here:

How exactly are we supposed to understand the pearl got from the subterranean secret dark magic workspace to outside in the ground-level courtyard... except by Aaravos walking the dying Viren down there to bring it back out, then neatly arranging pearl, staff, and Dad's dead body in close proximity for Claudia's homecoming? Which is pretty fucking grim.

As a counterpoint, the one thing this series sometimes plays extremely fast and loose with is the space-time continuum: like, working out travel times? Good fucking luck—it takes exactly as long to get somewhere as the plot demands, regardless of distance, terrain, or mode of transportation. So "how did the pearl get into the courtyard" could just be one of those "how did Soren and Claudia get up the Cursed Caldera without Lujanne knowing"-situations where the answer is "it's fine, don't think about it."

Sure, the staff, pearl, and Viren's body are all suspiciously accessible, but we also don't have screentime for Terry and Claudia to do an extensive search of the rubble overlaid with sad music and intercut with flashbacks. Sometimes shit just has to be convenient so we can move along... but I'll probably still always kind of wonder.

[starsfic]

Loop... whatever the hell number it is

Toshinori was ready to die.

He honestly had been, for a while now. Maybe he was dead and this was hell.

Once again, he was ten months from Yuei's entrance exam, having just deflated in front of a middle scholar in the middle of the street as he held the Sludge Villain in a soda bottle. Once again, his ears rang from the screams, and his nose ached from the smell of blood.

Once again, all he could sum up was "wrong person."

He wasn't sure what he was doing wrong. It had to be him.

Toshinori kept picking people- bright people, determined people, kids ready to be heroes- and they kept dying, sometimes multiple times. Whether from school mishaps that One for All caused, from his own slipups, or from being brutally murdered by All for One. No matter how hard he tried to stop the latter, he always rose back up.

By now, he had a list of people. The Absolutely Not category included Bakugou Katsuki (he fought back a mental shiver because there had been a civilian death instead of Bakugou), Aoyama Yūga (not through any fault of his), Mineta Minoru, and Shinsō Hitoshi. The Only if Desperate category included Mirio (entirely because of Nighteye), Todoroki Shōto (Endeavor), and Monoma Neito. The Great Choice But Didn't Work catergory included Uraraka Ochako, Iida Tenya, and Asui Tsuyu. There were other categories, but he had to remind himself every now and then.

He wasn't sure what he was doing wrong. He had given One for All to every student, all except-

"-you okay?" He blinked back to realize that the cold he was feeling was the water bottle pressed against his palm, the middle schooler holding it up. By now, Toshinori knew this boy's name. It was engraved in his heart.

"Midoriya-" Izuku. Friend. Ally. Living shield. Loyal. Smart.

Your greatest failure.

Midoriya Izuku was a constant in the time loops. He was the one who greeted Toshinori every loop. He was always on the side of good, whether as a hero or a vigilante or a villain or even just as a civilian, even though his father was constantly revealed to be All for One. He was deadly loyal to his friends and was willing to break, to die, for them.

Last loop, that had been Tomura. Tenko. His master's grandson.

The memory made him sick, watching as All for One crushed Izuku's throat, his own son's throat, in Tenko's body, only for Tenko to gain back control and scream, cradling Izuku's body tight.

Toshinori had screamed too.

Whatever role he played, Izuku was always there and Toshinori found himself attached. It was easy, because Izuku was kind and had a good heart and-

Oh. Oh, he was an idiot.

It was like the universe was tired of this sick game and turned his head, forcing him to look at the boy who had been beaten down but wanted to save everyone.

"Don't tell me it was that fucking obvious," he said, watching as Izuku's, his perfect successor, jaw dropped further.

He thought he heard First laugh in the back of his mind.

[luneariaa]

ᯓ★٠ ࣪⭑ INJURY. ( bucky b. )

mentions about you being injured but not that detailed, bucky being worried as always, playful banters between the two of you, not much proof-read, usage of doll nicknames as always.

this is almost going nowhere but eh 😭

tagging : @xxladyballadxx || dividers by @/saradika-graphics !! 💜

"Doll!"

Bucky grabs onto your wrist almost too carefully so; bringing you along with him to the outside, vacant space beside the unused car. He begins to do some checking here and there over your figure, inspecting any possible harmful injuries while kneeling in front of you.

"Does it hurt?" He questioned worriedly, just in case, even when he just found a cut right on one of your cheeks. Thankfully, it's not too deep, so it might heal in a few days prior.

"Ouch.." You tried your best to mask your pain with a small pout, but to no avail. It's just a 'small' cut after all, you should be fine.

"You're lucky that it's nothing too serious. If it's something worse, you might give me a heart attack or something."

"Don't die yet." Your voice came out in an almost humorous, beseeching way-- yet in purpose regarding to his previous statement. "Who am I gonna annoy then?"

He rolls his eyes upon your choice of words, "Oh wow doll, I'm touched." The sarcasm is evident within his tone, trying to play it off as if he's not that concerned.

As if wanting to test it even further, he lightly smacked your thigh-- albeit almost playfully-- making sure you're really okay despite your look of disbelief.

"That's what you get for making me worried, and for being reckless." You merely pouted once again upon his remarks, the quiet utterance of 'hey' escapes from your lips involuntarily.

"You're insufferable, you know that?"

Bucky didn't mean it, of course. He secretly enjoys watching and getting every single reaction out from you.

"Thanks for reminding me!" You retaliated wryly, rolling your eyes over his words this time; somewhat aware of his true intentions, yet decided to play along for now.

Not too long after, he gently grabs ahold of your face, causing your gaze to land upon his own as he examines for any visible wounds being present. His touch is so tender, and almost making the pain from the cut earlier to dissipate into nothingness.

"Don't throw yourself out in the way next time. If I see you doing that again, I'm not and won't speak to you for a month, got it?"

He wouldn't dare to do that anyway-- both of you knew for a fact.

"Is that supposed to be a threat?"

".. dramatic ass." You huffed slightly, shaking your head. "You know damn well that's not gonna happen."

Another eye roll was received from him. "Don't try to change the subject."

"But I bet your fine ass won't listen to whatever I have to say, so I'm keeping you away from fighting anything for now."

"You can't do that!" You gasped almost too dramatically for your own liking, but you couldn't help yourself.

"Try me."

No traces of playfulness are present anymore-- only dead seriousness. The least he could do is to allow you handle one more enemy before, but the chances are low, and surely, the others have taken care of it by now.

You initially wanted to try arguing back, but also well aware on how pointless it would turn out. So instead, you simply sighed rather heavily, slumping your shoulders in defeat.

"Fine, you win." You grumbled reluctantly, shifting your gaze away from his own while he wipes your slightly bloodied cheek with some sort of a tissue-- pulling you into his strong arms after.

You couldn't even be mad at him or anything, especially when he's just worried about your well-being.

Bucky doesn't reply just yet; merely embracing you for a bit more, while still being cautious over any possible wound being present on you that's still left unseen. The feeling is still quite new to him, since he doesn't just hug people that often.

But he wouldn't lie-- it genuinely feels nice, and it brings him some sort of comfort, at least.

This time, he makes an exception for you. He's clearly trying himself, and you somehow knew that even when he didn't tell you anything.

"Sorry.." Your voice is somewhat muffled by the leather jacket he's wearing, yet he still heard you nonetheless. One of his gloved hands gradually reaches out to the back of your head-- stroking your hair so delicately as possible.

"It's fine, doll."

"Just be careful next time. For me."

@luneariaa. do not repost; reblogs are welcomed. all rights reserved.

[silvermoon279-madam]

What was the original thought behind this au?Taking the Undertale ability to RESET and also SAVE/LOAD and giving it to Ford, who becomes the living embodiment of Consequences for the rest of the GF multiverses/Aus. (Similar to Chara at the end of the Genocide Route)

Actual proper story under cut to not blast you all with lore:

Due to Ford entering and exiting the “Do-Over” Dimension, reality had glitched and had granted him the power to SAVE, LOAD, and RESET similar to Undertale. During the Portal Era, he found he wasn’t exactly able to stay dead, somehow always coming back before his death and continuing like nothing happened. He hadn’t thought much of it, though had tested the lengths his “Saving and Loading” powers could go during it all. (He was still able to feel the pain of each death, but he was always able to come back to life like nothing occurred.)

He hadn’t properly realized the extent of his powers until he returned back to his Dimension like in canon, where exiting the portal is the "True Beginning” of his RESETs, as he realized he loaded back to when he first exited out of the portal after other tests.

The first time he exited the portal, he had a fist fight with his brother and caused a great deal of strain in the family before Weirdmageddon had occurred. And during that, everyone perished during it, except Stanford. And that’s when his first proper RESET happened.

And he walked out of the portal like before, and instead to try a different reaction to see how much would change. He hugged his brother, and things seemed to go well. Then Weirdmageddon, a twin dies and the other would be forced to go home alone. He couldn’t let that happen… RESET. Perhaps acting neutral will change it for the better? Not attacking his brother nor hugging him. No strain, just neutral. Weirdmageddon. Both twins die. RESET.

And it keeps happening. Reset, exit the portal, summer, Weirdmageddon someone dies, Reset and start again. Over and over again. After all, Stanford has a savior complex. Why wouldn’t he use his powers to give everyone the best possible ending of all? So he keeps resetting, changing his reactions, his actions, his words, every little thing to ensure the outcome turns out the way he wants.

Star dies. Reset. Pine dies. Reset. Star and Pine die. Reset. Crescent dies. Reset. All three die. Reset. Star and Crescent die. Reset. Crescent and Pine die. Reset. All three die. Reset. Star and Pine die. Reset. Pine dies. Reset. Star dies. Reset.

And finally, after so many times, after so many actions and resets taken… They all survive. Bill is defeated, everyone is alive and well, and they can all enjoy the lives they all wanted! The best possible ending! So why… Does he feel so hollow? Like all of his emotions had vanished into thin air like water evaporating? Perhaps the reason was because of how many times he had done this, forcing his emotions away to play a part over and over? Or perhaps it was because he had to grow numb, seeing his family die over and over countless times and seeing each action cause so much damage.

Sure, he could still put on a smile, still laugh, still care for the family he has! But there wasn’t any real emotion behind them. Just Stanford putting on the mask needed in that moment. But he knows he cares for his family. That’s why he did all this! It’s just…

At this point, are these even Stanford’s actual family members? The ones he actually saw when he first came out of that portal? Or are those long dead and he’s just filling the void with a different version?

He didn’t know. But he kept at it for a while, went on adventures with Stanley on the boat they dreamed about, and kept seeing the kids every summer. Hoping maybe it would fill that void back up. But it never did. And it only left a horrible thought in his mind. “What if something like Bill happens again because of me? What if I put these people in danger? It was all MY fault they were even in danger in the first place!” And then another thought. They would be safe if he wasn’t around. If something came for him, then they wouldn’t be around to be hurt. They wouldn’t miss Stanford. That was the final thought.

It was such a shame when Grunkle Ford passed away. He was so sick before then, on the boat while Stanley was forced to watch his brother wither. The brother was in so much grief he hadn’t noticed that Stanford brought a certain plant into the boat under the guise of adding color to the space. Or how the plant was missing a few flowers when Stanford got sick…

It was so easy leaving that dimension behind, allowing the family to continue living without the threat of something dangerous looming over them.

Perhaps… Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to see what other Stanfords and the others had done and what endings they’ve gotten? =) What a wonderful idea.