#eyeing all of this oh fuck this is so interesting

[yieldtotemptation]

CRAZY ft. Chaewon

chaewon x male reader smut

9k words

Oh, it’s fucked up; the power dynamics are all over the place.

You were her manager, and now you’re technically her boss, and it’s all led to this weird feedback loop where Chaewon swears she doesn’t like being told what to do and you swear that you believe women should be treated with respect.

Never mind that it all goes out the window when you’ve drawn the curtains shut and you’re bending her over your desk and tugging out the butt plug you kindly requested she walk around with all day.

And so:

“If you think I’m some around-the-clock booty call that will show up whenever you get a boner, then—”

“Chaewon,” you interrupt.

Stare at the girl.

Catching her in the midst of removing her earrings, bracelets, really any loose items that could end up between the couch cushions or underneath a stack of files, only to be discovered by some poor cleaner in the early hours of the morning.

Perched up on your desk, heaven-sent and already stark-naked. Looking far too pretty for her own good, and just plain, flat-out, in-your-face fuckable.

Oh.

She’s already got your blood rushing.

“Really?”

Chaewon bites her lip. Holds it for a beat. Lets it go and sighs. Unable to help herself. “You’re such a little shit.”

You laugh right in her face. “Little is an interesting choice of words.”

"And you're so lucky I think you're cute."

A step forward, to put her in reach. To skate a hand up her thigh, rubbing out the tension coiled up in her muscles. Ending up on the curve of the most generous ass your palms have ever been graced with. Giving a gentle squeeze, massaging into the bare, vanilla expanse, hoping you’re already on the path to forgiveness.

It goes without saying, the two of you have run this same routine many times before.

(Yeah. You’ve fucked Chaewon a lot.)

“I can’t believe you just made me walk in front of the entire floor to get to your office. Everyone was staring.” Chaewon makes this loud, keening noise, pretty much guaranteeing that everyone’s listening now as well. “After that shit you pulled at the Christmas party.”

You lean close, kisses into her neck, apologies over her pulse. “Everyone was too drunk to notice what we were doing.”

Her eyes narrow. “You made me cum in the middle of the dancefloor.”

“And you’re welcome.” You’re laughing harder, right as she starts to do her whole Chaewon thing.

Saying one (usually insulting) thing with her mouth but screaming something else entirely with her body.

In this case, it’s in this subtle adjustment of her hips. A tilt, a lean, an angle so precise, giving you exclusive access to put your hands on where she’s most sensitive—which is pretty much everywhere. And really, you can’t be held at fault for whatever consequences follow because she makes it so easy.

It’s hard to imagine anyone else getting as crazy over the slightest touch. A shiver at the brush of your fingertips, trembling when your grip tightens, gets a little bit rough.

And when you fall into a rhythm, when it’s just the two of you and you’re curling your digits in her cunt and kissing all the right spots on her skin, and you’re making her feel like you’re everywhere all at once, it’s like she’s made of pure energy. Like she’s going to combust.

It does insane things for your ego.

It’s also so, unfathomably hot.

“God, I can’t believe I have to deal with such an ass—" But Chaewon never gets to finish that thought, because your fingers are getting lower, inching closer to that spot that grants you mercy every time; that makes her voice crack and her eyes lose all focus and has her forget any reason she has to ever be mad at you.

The moans that you tease out of her, each taking the shape of your name; the familiar, longing whimpers she makes when you do what no one else does and deny her.

It’s the same dangerous game every time.

Take her some place a little too public, with just enough risk to make her wet and ready and absolutely needy at the thought of getting caught. Get a hand in that bob of blonde, or black, or red; run your tongue over the hollow of her throat, or up the fine curve of her thigh, or trail down the ridges of her abs, just making her delirious.

And yeah, sure, most of the time it seems like you’re the one doing the leading, but look closer, past the pleas and the pouts and who’s on her knees at the feet of who; and realise that it’s mostly just you trying to keep up with her appetite.

“You don’t have to keep up the act,” you’re saying, “But you might want to try and keep your voice down.”

Chaewon’s rolling her eyes, petulant. She’s got the whole bratty thing nailed to a tee. “Your fault.”

Oh, she’s a vision, that’s for sure. God definitely took his time when making her, with all her grace and poise and her ludicrously bouncy tits and unreasonably slutty little waist. All just begging to be fucked askew. To put a smudge on her perfection. Be it the flushed cheeks, the glossed eyes, the already-on-its-way to being properly fucked-up hair—

The cocky smile and the gall to say, “You’re usually kissing me by now.”

You hardly have any complaints when she wraps your tie around her fist, yanks you forward, providing an unnecessary guide for your mouth to hers.

Like always, it’s messy.

There’s rarely any intention there; just kiss the smoking hot girl that’s right in front of you, let her breathe you in and flood your mouth with her tongue while your hands do their best to draw along her figure and map out each of her perfect lines and immaculate curves.

Seeking out where she’s hottest.  

There’s a cry muffled against your lips when your fingers get particularly adventurous, but it’s pure searing heat, all of it. All of her. Bottled up in the tiniest of packages, a Pandora’s box of sin, just waiting for you to come and let it out.

Chaewon’s knees spread wider, feet hooking around your back, making you strain against the wetness building between her thighs.

She gets in real close, letting her tongue slide along your jaw, your neck and finally your ear where she’s slurring the same variations of previous filthy and barely-lucid requests, “Get these clothes off before I tear them off.”

Your tie doesn’t stand a chance. Neither do any of the buttons on your shirt, your belt-buckle, your pants which land at your ankles and are kicked off to join an ever-growing pile on your couch.

“I need to feel you, like, right fucking now—”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “What happened to not being an around-the-clock booty call?”

“Just, shut up already.”

“Magic word first.”

“Please.”

But the problem, as always, is where the hell to start.

Chaewon, from head-to-toe, is a literal divine being—a goddess, personified.

A Greek epic made flesh, come down from the top of a mountain to fuck around with the mortals, leave them as dried husks to craft myths in her wake.

That’s what you’re dealing with here.

Perhaps it’s your destiny too. To climb that mountain, to conquer that peak. To mark, bruise, claim. Run your fingers over her; her tiny waist, her smooth, sweat-stained skin, her heart-wrenchingly soft ass.

All heat and need, right in the palm of your hand, begging for you to leave your own brand of worship and bring her down into the dirt with the rest of the living.

And despite the repetitions, the countless dark corners and quiet rooms that are forever stained with your cum and permeating with her scent; it still feels like a novelty every time.

So, it only makes sense to start with a personal favourite.

Her breasts.

“Always with my tits,” Chaewon snarks, but it’s more a statement of acceptance than any kind of protest.

She’s already leaning back onto your desk, her eyes closing as your fingers rise up her sides, and she’s sighing, nipples tightening at just the thought of your touch.

Begging for more pressure, for a pinch, a tug. Or just your teeth.

“It’s a classic for a reason,” you muse, and you dive right in, mouth around one of her hardened tips, glueing your tongue to the nub.

See, Chaewon’s tits are as unfairly incredible as the rest of her. Perfect wonders of gravity and genetics that fill up your hands and spill past your fingers; that bounce and jiggle and sway so nicely when you fuck her just right.

And when you taste, give a hard, gratuitous suck on one—there’s a choked-out cry, a stab of her nails into your shoulders, a kick of her heel into your back.

Really, not one for subtleties, your Chaewon.

Always quick to tell you exactly what she needs in every single moment; if not with her words then with the way she squirms and gasps and bites down on her lower lip until it’s a darker shade of red than the lipstick she walked in with.

And even then, each pleading request, each beg sloppily kissed into your shoulder, or your chest, or up and down your cock, amounts to the same thing: use me, use me now, use me good. Like a toy, a submissive little fuckdoll that’s just waiting to be picked up and played with until the batteries die.

That’s your Chaewon:

Preciously soft where it matters, razor sharp where it counts. Built to take it rough, but tragically doomed to be so fucking sensitive.

You flick your tongue; once, twice, over and over. Harder, rougher, grazing your molars against skin, and she’s curving into you, pushing her chest closer. Grinding herself into your waist, hips bucking. Searching for more friction. More heat.

Just the noises she makes. She’s generous with her moans, her breaths all chopped up and hitching with every tug of your teeth. It’s the worst cliché but yeah, her body is literally a fine instrument, musical; play the right notes and she’ll scream you a melody.

You idly wonder if she was like this before you met her.

The loving sigh of your name is all the answer you need.

Hands twist in your hair now, she’s getting impatient; anything to get you to give her what she craves. But you switch. From one perfect swell to another, giving it the same treatment, the same shameless licks and laps.

“More,” Chaewon tries, and then amends to a whimpering, “Please?”

Jesus Christ.

You take a finger, drag it along the valley of her wonderful chest, teasing down her stomach until it reaches the scorching heat between her legs.

Finding her wet, puffy. Feeling her pulse. Wanting to be made whole.

A groan bursting from her throat before she can even stop it—“Oh, fuck!”

“Chaewon,” you huff out, reproachingly, but it’s barely heard over the slick sounds of her cunt giving way. It’s heady, a rush you feel straight in your veins, just the idea that you could tear her apart with a single finger.

But that doesn’t mean you should just stop with one.

A second finger, your middle, eases in. It’s so downright pornographic, the way she opens up for you. How her pussy squeezes around you, how it soaks your digits, how it clenches and sears heat onto your skin. And how when you press in the pad of your thumb firmly against the swollen bud of her clit, just that achingly light touch of pressure, it sends her spiralling.

“Gah, you’re so fucking mean,” Chaewon rips through another moan, a filthy curse, and it’s really uncalled for. Because this is what she comes to you for.

Drops everything she’s doing, ditches anyone she’s with. She’d cross an entire ocean just to have you torture her with your lips, or your tongue. To have your fingers bringing her to her knees, or your cock just fucking her brainless.

Really, to her, every part of you is a little death, a stairway to an afterlife where it’s just the pure sensation of bliss and your cock, making her feel complete.

“And you’re terrible at keeping quiet,” you accuse, but you’re not doing anything to help her. Just making it all that much worse, ruining her so sweetly with a curl or a twist or a merciless press down. “No idea what I’m going to do with you. Naughty, naughty, naughty.”

“You’re just looking for an excuse to punish me,” is Chaewon’s accusation, reaching the same conclusions you have. Reading your mind before you can even get a word out—grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you closer, hips rising up to meet the hand that will be her undoing. “How am I the naughty one when you’re the one that just loves to ruin me. Make me cum in front of everyone every chance you get. Fuck, if they couldn’t see it running down my thighs they definitely saw it on my face.”

And her eyes are shutting now, and she’s flashing back, feeling it all over again. The strobing lights, the unnecessarily loud bass. The throng of bodies pushed too close together and there’s Chaewon, in the tightest, shortest, sluttiest dress twirling around and fucking you with just the twerk of her ass from across the room.

Your own personal siren, luring you to your doom.

Or hers.

So, yeah, maybe you’re the villain for meeting her in the middle, grinding your body against hers, whispering plans of taking her to a closet, or a bathroom, or the fucking balcony and ruining that tragically flimsy strip of fabric and making her cum so hard she’ll never look at the sky the same way again.

And maybe you could still have some deniability if any one of those ideas came to fruition instead of what happened next. Because you just couldn’t stop yourself when she was already filling your mouth with her tongue, your hands with her tits, her ass, and it was all too easy to dip your fingers lower and under her dress and—

Do exactly the same thing you’re doing now.

“There were cameras there too,” Chaewon realises, “God, I can’t believe how stupid you make me.”

“I can’t be held responsible for any of your actions after fucking you senseless, sweetheart,” you chuckle against her neck, and lower to her shoulder.

“You absolutely can, this is all because of you,” she whines, and it’s petulant and bratty, and so goddamn cute. It’s unreal. “You just can’t help yourself. Can’t help trying to fuck me up every chance you get.”

“You let me.”

“Because you make it so fucking good,” and there’s the admission, the natural end point every time this same argument arises.

“Oh you poor, poor girl,” you murmur into the sweetness of her skin, sucking in the edges of her collarbone, leaving marks you know you’ll come back to, if not now then tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. “Too gorgeous for your own good. Just too pretty, too tempting. All mine.”

It’s obvious what you’re doing, feeding into Chaewon’s praise kink. She’s openly admitted it, she likes being told she looks good, loves the reward of your attention. Not just what you say, but the way you say it. The whisper into her skin when you tell her how hard she makes you. The grunt into her ear when you remind her that no one takes you as nice as she does. And the rough groan when you call her a whore, a beautiful, terrible little slut that’s going to rob you of all the cum you have.

But most of all, she loves the honest, direct command when you tell her that she’s yours.

And it’s so, so potent.

You don’t miss the smirk against your cheek, the kisses she’s started peppering across your forehead. Don’t miss how she’s drenching your fingers, filling up your palm with her juices, so delighted to have your hand fucking the hell out of her cunt and faster, filling her, filling the room with these desperate needy sounds.

She’s panting, whining into your ears these sweet little nothings that make you feel like you could fuck a hole straight through the nearest wall. And you can’t help it, you’re leaning into it, plunging your fingers in and out of her like you’re trying to set a new personal best. Quickest time to make Chaewon scream. To shatter her right there in the middle of your office, and get some unfortunate intern to clean up the mess she leaves behind.

Her lips clumsily dragging along your earlobe tells you all you need to know, “You’re going to make me cum again, you fuck, I hate how easy it is for you to—”

You slide a third finger in, and it’s like you’ve flipped a switch.

A choking groan when you start to hit that spot that makes her tighten around you. That makes her legs shake, her knees bang against your hips and she just keeps getting wetter and wetter.

The beg in her body. Pleading, needing to be pushed over that edge. And so, you do.

You see it coming before she does, spot the scrunch in her face, the flinch across her features, that perfect, hot little mouth widening and needing to be captured in a kiss because she’s always so fucking loud when she cums.

Muted, “fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!” and then, “why are you so good at this?”, and she’s rocking against your hand, pussy desperately swallowing your fingers, the filthy slaps of skin and skin and the squelching that echoes off the glass walls.

At last, the release.

Everything built up in the anticipation, in her no doubt rush to be back in front of you, to end up wrecking another piece of furniture or a room, and not give a flying fuck because there’s nothing else that matters but the high of her orgasm.

Only, it’s just the first one. And it’s not enough.

God, there really are fewer things in life you love more than making her cum.

So, it only makes sense to do it again.

Unfortunately, she’s faded away for a bit.

It’s your job to bring her back.

A kiss on her forehead to remind her to come up for air, to let the world come rushing back into the room. But Chaewon’s not quite there yet.

She pants, pats your wrist, drawls, “Please, just, give me a second. Just a little bit. Too intense.”

Unfortunately, you’ve already made up your mind.

You push off her, giving her the shortest of seconds to catch her breath, claw her way back to some semblance of sanity before you start to make your way down her body.

She deserves it, all of it. Kisses on every inch of hot, sweaty skin.

Revel in the aftershocks that make her tremble. Make her sigh when your lips drag down her chest, return a tongue to her nipple, feel it shiver on your tastebuds. Get lower and lower, let her legs give way, making your destination clear.

It’s impossible to miss all these tiny little reactions, these quivers and shakes. The gasps at the sticky trail your fingers are leaving behind.

She’s a mess already, all because of you, and you can’t get enough of the power in that.

Right until you’re on your knees.

“I think I like the look of this,” Chaewon lets out a breezy laugh, so pleased to rest her legs over your shoulders.

You tilt your head, raise an eyebrow. And then get right in, drag a tongue from bottom to top.

Chaewon’s thighs clatter on either side of your head.

And now you return her laugh, “You seriously think you’re in charge right now?”

Her hands flail, and it’s so cute the way she tries to reach down, shuffle her cunt back onto your lips. Get her fingers in the back of your head, tugging at the strands. “Just,” she sighs, and sighs louder when you don’t immediately give in, “Let a girl fantasise, would you?”

“Only because you asked nicely.”

“Good,” and she pulls you back in, blessing you with the most pleasant of whines when she so kindly requests, “Now, pretty please, would you just fuck me with your mouth for, like, a second, okay?”

“Nice to see you still have your manners,” you say, already sucking a bruise into her skin. “We just might make a lady out of you yet.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” Chaewon’s words barely leave her mouth before they trail off, lost somewhere between a laugh that turns into a moan that cuts right off into a gasp when your tongue slides through her slit.

You taste her. Really, taking your time. Savouring her flavour.

And she’s got so much for you, making a mess of your chin already, and you make a mental note to add your carpet to the long list of surfaces she’s left forever unsalvageable.

It’s a wonder, truly, how delicate she is, how little she can take without straight-up disintegrating. The fact that the slight press of your lips makes her breaths stall, a brief swipe of your tongue causes her thighs to tremble and when you suck just right she needs to work every muscle in her body to stop from screaming.

You’re not even trying that hard.

Just enjoying the taste of her pussy.

It’s a fragile balance; Chaewon’s cunt is a sweet science. Build her up quick, keep her just on the edge of too much. Leave her hanging, begging, just enough anguish so she doesn’t hurtle over into that oblivion she so desperately craves.

You swirl your tongue, pressing in, reintroducing yourself to each one of her nerve endings. Every fold and dip intensely familiar, like there’s the one that makes her thighs quiver and there’s the one that makes her toes curl, and oh, when you push your tongue in right here and use this exact amount of pressure—

“Holy fuck—your fucking tongue—”

Yeah, that spot might as well have your fucking name on it.

Her hands say everything she’s too choked up to get out. In your hair, pulling, clawing at your scalp, urging you to go on. Trying, so desperately hard, to fuck your face, whimpering in despair the entire time, eventually getting out, “Seriously, what the fuck. How the fuck can you just do this?”

“Just how good you taste, baby,” you speak into her cunt, even though you know she was never really expecting an answer. Just wanted some acknowledgment of the things you do to her.

But maybe she has a point—this skill you’ve built up for breaking Chaewon. Maybe it’s the way you’re so thorough, so precise. So greedy for her. Like you could never get enough. Just eat her out until your jaw gets tired, your tongue loses all strength, your body just gives out.

And even then.

You push your tongue inside, and it’s heaven, just pure heaven, to feel her clamp down around you. Her whole body thrumming against your mouth, her thighs tensing on either side of your face, her stomach tightening underneath the pressure of your palm.

You suck hard on her clit, and—

“Christ, you fucking—” she curses, failing to contribute anything else, besides a dying wail of your name.

“Shhh,” you hush into her folds, but it’s a fruitless endeavour. Chaewon has never once in her life been the quiet type.

“Oh, fuck off,” Chaewon says, breathing deeply, something of a laugh creeping out her throat. “You fucking love it. Love the idea of everyone knowing what a slut I am for you. Love having everyone see me and know immediately that you’ve had your mouth on me. That it’s your cum dripping out of my cunt.”

“Guilty,” you say, intending it to come out as an apology. But really, it’s just boasting at this point.

It’s all a test to you, a game. See how loud you can get Chaewon to be. How easy you can overcome her self-control, what little shreds of dignity she has intact. Try to put a thick, white stain on her flawless public image.

And you always win.

Every time she cums, you win.

So, you keep going.

Push the pace just a little, push her. Tongue laving, curling around her clit. Flicking and suckling until she’s just a puddle of needy noises and boneless limbs.

You look up at her, peer over her mound, see her chest rising and falling, her cheeks flushed and eyes hazed over with this utterly devastating look of pure want—so wet and messy and perfect. Like she’s drowning in it, even though you’re the one quickly running out of oxygen between her legs.

She’s so close, just needs that extra bit of effort. That little twirl of your tongue that turns her knees to jelly. And her pussy pulses against your lips, spine lifting off the desk, head banging against the wood.

She’s aching.

Sometimes succeeding, sometimes failing spectacularly at keeping her voice down, keeping herself from making sure everyone in the fucking building knows your name.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she’s chanting, when your fingers get busy again, pressing in deep, curling just right. And then, “baby, baby, baby,” when you start to pump into her, really get into it, sucking down on her cunt and letting her ride out her pleasure on your chin.

It somehow gets even messier.

“Can’t,” interspersed with, “fuck”, and topped off with a row of accusations, “why do you do this—how can you—” and ended with the whines of “don’t—don’t—please don’t you dare—”

But then—you stop.

Chaewon makes her agonising protest heard. Eyes snapping to yours, absolutely murderous. Simply, “Why?”

Because you enjoying watching her squirm.

Because you love to torture her.

Because you haven’t got what you want yet.

It’s so easy for you—break the hold her legs have on you, keep her stuck to your desk with a hand on her diaphragm. You stand up, watch her whine, see how her abs flex. Helpless when you take hold of her hips and flip her tiny frame over until she’s face down on a stack of papers.

You could throw her over your shoulder and parade her around your office and she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

Probably thank you afterwards.

But instead you just make her wait. Hold still, pussy leaking all over your desk. Ass pointing up in the air.

Perfect, round, prepared.

Designed by some divine engineering to be caressed, squeezed, worshipped. To be spanked. You palm one cheek, seeing how the flesh bounces back with a jiggle, before letting it go with a smack. The sound rings out, sharp, stinging.

Instantly recalling memories of the last time you left it a much darker shade of pink. You’re inclined to do it again.

For now though, you just bend down. Give it a gentle kiss.

Chaewon does her best to turn back, glaring. Like she doesn’t get off on the size difference.

She can’t find the words, so you give them to her, “You know what I want.”

Blushing, flustered, frantic. “You want me to beg.”

You nod. Wait patiently. Lips to her ass again.

Her eyes close, she inhales deep. Huffs through her nose. You spy the way her back curves and goes taut. Her hands clenching into fists.

Give her time. She’s a pro at this game too. Knows exactly how to play it. Chaewon’s voice comes out clear, no longer a mess of half-formed cries, or barely-there whimpers, but something sharp and precise:

“I need you to fuck me. Now. Please, please, fuck me hard. I don’t care if we get caught. Just. My cunt, my ass—any hole you want, I can’t—I can’t take it anymore. I need your cock—I really, really need your fucking cock to stretch me out. Right now. I'm begging. Just like you wanted. Let me fucking cum.”

And then, to extend the torment just a little longer, “Haven’t I made you cum enough?”

“It doesn’t count unless I cum on your cock. Unless you fill me all the way up. Use me, own this ass. Make me walk outside with your cum inside me, dripping down my thighs, leaving a trail of you everywhere I go.”

“Such a needy little slut, aren’t you?” You grin, raising goosebumps with your words, Chaewon shuddering under the ghost of your lips. Knowing there’s nothing she wouldn’t say, nothing she wouldn’t do just to have you use her again.

She gives up. “Don’t call me that unless you’re going to treat me like one.”

Yeah, God himself couldn’t strike the grin off your face. “Well, if you’re going to ask me like that.”

“Anything to get you to finally stop teasing me, please. I don’t think I can handle it, just, just—”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Chaewon,” you say, and then you lick her, from her cunt to her ass with one long drag of your tongue.

Chaewon gasps. Cums again.

It’s just the thought of it that wrecks her. The thought of your cock pushing into that puckered hole, the thought of your fingers gripping into her hips and your thumbs pressing in bruises.

And you can see Chaewon’s shoulders bunch up, her ass tilting and pointing higher up towards you. The realisation of what’s to come setting in—you’re going to take Chaewon’s ass once again, make good on a promise you brokered when you first bought her that silver toy and pushed it into the tightest little hole she had.

You spit on her asshole. The saliva glistens against her skin.

Chaewon’s whispering, talking to you, herself. Just doing what she can to brace through it all without completely falling apart again. “Fuck, I can’t believe it. Can’t believe you’re going to do this again. That I’m going to let you.”

Your tongue returns, sloppily tracing the crevice between her cheeks, sliding up and down. It teases this moan out of her, loud and mangled and guttural, but still so melodic to your ears. Makes her cunt throb against your chin, gush even more.

Yeah, you can feel it in her thighs, flexing and pushing back, urging her ass further onto your tongue. Not that you need the encouragement. Because you’re loving it, feasting on her taste, her flavour. Her scent. Inhaling it in, all of her, all of that peach-shaped perfection.

You’re going to lose your mind.

So, you spread her open. Sure, the butt plug has done its work—done its best—loosening her up, but she’s still so maddeningly tight that you know it’s going to get dangerous, going to be such a fucking squeeze.

Your tongue dips low to scoop up all that sweet, sweet juice that’s been building up. Eagerly licking up her cum, spreading the mess across her ass cheeks, adding your own brushes to the masterpiece.

And it is, all of it, your magnum opus.

Her cheeks parting and glistening underneath the warm office lights.

Her hole clenching, and relaxing. A wink because it knows what you’re going to do to it.

You push your tongue in that tiny pucker, just for a second, and it fucks Chaewon up good.

One final lick, one final perfect groan from her lips.

“Please.”

Stand up, cock in hand, line it up with that incredible, dark little hole.

Bend over, get close, and slowly, “I’m going to pound this hot fucking ass. Ruin it. Own it.”

Chaewon’s panting, nodding with each word. It’s all she can do. Hardly in any state to protest or argue or do anything but beg for you to do the one thing that’ll make her feel whole again.

You add that extra bit of torment, “And when I cum, when I fill your ass. You’re going to thank me. Thank me for using you as my own personal cumdump. Understand?”

“Yes,” Chaewon breathes, barely, and there it is: “I’ll do anything you want, just, please—”

Oh, the fucking grind when you push your hips forward, and the endless groan it rips from Chaewon’s throat.

“Fucking hell,” you’re cursing, barely inside, but still.

You push, inch by inch, feeling that rigid ring of muscle open itself up to you. Feeling like it’ll never end, this burning, fucking hot sensation; that has her melting around you, like she was always meant to be.

And it’s your name on her tongue, cursed and chanted and praised as you get deeper and deeper, until the words just dissolve into mindless mewls and whimpers and—“Fuck—so fucking deep.”

She’s just so hot underneath you, stretched impossibly wide around your girth, holding you tight and burning you up. And when you’re finally in; when you’re buried completely in Chaewon’s ass, and your legs are shaking and her eyes are wide and starting to well up, she whispers. Hushed, reverent—

“So perfect.”

You can’t come up with anything better than that.

Nothing in this world is better than your cock impaled in her ass, her pussy gushing onto your desk, and your hands just gripping so nicely around her hips.

God, just the way she fits. Made for this. Made for you.

You press your lips to her back, like licking salt before downing a shot. A last show of kindness for her to carry with her through the coming storm, through all your grand plans and designs to properly wreck her perfect, petite body.

Chaewon knows the score, “You’re just going to do whatever you want to me now, aren’t you?”

“Exactly like you want,” you answer, and draw your hips back, torturously slow, almost slipping out entirely.

Giving Chaewon’s ass a moment’s relief, letting her have a beat to pant, to inhale hot air, to remember what it’s like to not be so completely full of you.

Her shoulders heave, her spine curves upwards, and this is what you’ve been waiting for.

Chaewon, the idol—your princess. All doe-eyes and runny make-up and fucked up little sighs. No one was ever supposed to see her like this. See her looking anything less than magazine-cover perfect, anything less than dolled up and posed in designer dresses and outfits so nicely for a music video, or an award show, or a stage.

No one should ever see the lines in her picturesque face all flushed and twisted in agony. Her perfect bob in shambles. Her eyes wide, pupils blown, in tears. Her mouth loose and open and hot. Her ass bright fucking red.

No one but you.

You snap your hips back in. As hard as you can.

And—“Fuck!”

Too sudden. Too hard, too fast. Yet not nearly enough.

One stroke after another. Slipping in and out, easier and easier as Chaewon bends to your tempo, the pace you’re setting. Slow, steady, firm strokes that add on top of each other, and Chaewon keeps getting louder and louder until it’s now not just a problem, it’s going to be a fucking scandal.

The celebrity, fucked like some common whore by an executive on a power-trip. So easy for anyone to overhear, anyone to realise what’s going on behind the glass walls and the dark curtains.

Fuck, you’re not even sure if you remembered to even lock the door.

But the thought alone, someone walking in, witnessing the terrible and beautiful and fucking obscene way you’re claiming her—it’s the purest high. Making her take it. Treating her like a possession. Like she loves to be. Seeing her body shake, her face scrunch, her eyes sobbing at just the effort to keep silent.

It’s no use.

She’s so loud.

So, so loud.

Chaewon pushes herself off the desk, posts two hands flat to brace herself. Lifting herself up to give a better angle, to get you in deeper, letting you just chase that sweet, sweet sound of your cock slapping into her ass.

It’s fantasy, filth, every repressed wet-dream come to life. This pain that twists into pleasure and rocks her body, pounding her into your desk. Knocking over your monitor, sending your keyboard clattering to the floor. Chaewon’s nails fuck up the wood, leaving white scrapes on the varnish.

“I hate how—how good you feel. Fuck, I hate it—hate how much I need it—fuck.”

You grunt, slam your hips into her, make your cock disappear into her. “Stop lying.”

“I’m not—”

“It’s just you and me here, Chae,” even though you’re not entirely sure that’s the case, “Be honest with yourself for once.”

“Fuck—fine!” Chaewon’s on the verge of collapse, still cum-drunk, brain all cock-addled and filled with incoherent thoughts that are all distinctly related to how good your cock feels when it’s stretching her ass to its limits. “I love it, okay? I love being used. Love how much of a whore you make me. Love being treated just like this.“

"That’s all you had to say.”

You move.

Pull back, roll your hips, dragging your cock out of her tightness. Then pushing forward, plunging right back in, making her feel every inch. Forcing a whine out of her throat.

Steady, patient fucking.

The kind she loves to hate.

“Wait—please—why are you going so slow, it’s—”

Another slow draw, another hard fuck.

“Edging me like this is so fucking rude, I can’t believe you’d—”

Cutting her off with another deep thrust. Dragging. Deliberate. Faster.

“Such an asshole, doing this to me, can’t believe I’m letting you—”

Harder still. Building. Picking up speed.

“Fuck me harder. Faster. Please, I promise—I promise—”

Each stroke, each thrust, each grind, making her beg with every breath. But leaving her too helpless to do anything about it.

“I’ll be good, I’ll be so good for you. Like I already have been. Like I always am for you. Aren’t I always such a good girl for you?“

And it’s starting to have an effect on you too, all this holding back, this enduring; this burning sensation inside you is reaching critical mass and it only makes sense to get it the fuck out of your system and into Chaewon’s ass while she just slurs—

"Please, fuck me, please, I don’t know how much more of this I can take—”

But she still takes it, anything you throw at her. Until you’re fucking her ass so hard that everything coming out of her mouth just becomes white noise. One long, garbled plea, a never-ending moan that sounds something like:

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me. This cock is gonna make me cum so much. Fucking me so good, it’s—”

You’re relentless.

Turning up the heat, giving it to her exactly how she’s begged. Fast. Hammering into her ass, harder, meaner.

Long, harsh thrusts that break her in two every time.

And you’re really putting her lungs to work, testing their capacity. Making her go high-pitched until she’s jumping octaves and showing no signs of coming back down.

Getting out of control, and it’s after one harsh curse directed right at your cock that your hand shoots for her mouth; slapping your palm over her lips and making her choke down the sound.

But the moans don’t stop, just vibrate against your skin, like you’ve given her license to let herself go. Immediately making all the prior obscene declarations of slutdom and whoring seem tame in comparison.

And it’s borderline impressive, the creativity with which she spurns all manners of filth and profanity, everything screamed into your hand, barely muffled. Not stopping, not slowing down at all, until her teeth are sinking into your palm with only her spit to soothe the pain.

It’s only fair that you have words for her too.

“Can’t even control yourself, Chae. Such a nasty cockslut. So fucking tight,” you growl, and it’s getting harder to hold on by the minute, your own vision starting to swim. “Unbelievable. So tight. So pretty. Just taking my cock like this. My little whore. Tell me, who’s going to want you after this?”

It’s your words that make Chaewon preen. Makes her ass spasm around your cock, her pussy melt. And she’s fighting, fighting for air, fighting to stay together, fighting to stay on her feet.

But she’s slipping.

“Mine.” You reach out, wrap your hand around her chest. It’s her tits, swinging underneath her, bouncing with every solid thrust, every rough push into her ass. It’s fucked that it’s taken you this long to get your hands back on them, dig into the lovely flesh, pinch and tug and fuck her up even more.

Holding her tiny frame against you, in your arms, an anchor for your worst desires.

Feeling how small she is. Feeling everything about her. The softness of her breasts, the insane tension in her stomach, the warmth of her thighs. Feeling the wetness of her cunt, the intense heat of her ass. You thought she was fragile once. Now you know better.

Now you know how ridiculous it is that not only does someone like her exist, but that she’s also so willing to let you fuck her like this.

Willing to let you split her apart with every stroke and even then she’s just so, so desperate for more. Like it’s the best feeling, the only feeling she’ll ever need again.

“God,” because it hurts, “Yes,” because it still feels so fucking good, and, “Keep going, please, fuck, keep going,” even though you don’t need any urging at all.

She’s drooling down your wrist, tears are streaking out the corners of her eyes—she’s broken, overwhelmed, overstimulated. Loving it entirely and there’s no way she’ll be able to get out of here in one piece.

Someone—everyone will know. It’ll play out exactly like she said it would, like you knew it would when you called her over.

Your office will never be the same.

“Can you hear that?” You taunt in her ear, all low and gravelly.

Chaewon’s eyes fly open, gaze hazy. Confused. There’s nothing but the sound of your hips slapping against her cheeks, your cock fucking filthy noises out of her ass.

You’re so happy to explain it to her. “Can’t hear anything, right? Nothing outside these walls. Do you wanna know why?”

A tiny little sigh escapes her when you peel your fingers off her lips, satisfied that she just might be able to hold back her screams for a minute. Drag your hand down, lower, glide it over her skin, pick up the sweat along the way, and end up at her cunt. A finger pressing down onto her clit. Rolling it.

“It’s because they’re listening.”

The cry that’s torn from her throat, louder, she’s going to wear out her vocal cords at this rate, ruin that angelic singing voice, but fuck it’s the most satisfying sound.  

You lean into it, toy with her tits, trace your finger around her cunt. Slide your tongue along her throat and kiss into that sweet spot under her ear.

“They’re all wondering why you’re screaming so much. Why you’re so desperate to keep it down. What’s got you so fucking crazy?”

Chaewon’s eyes are wild, she’s torn, but she’s so fucked out of coherence that her mouth and her tongue have lost all ability to do anything but plead, agree, repeat your name.

“Actually, they probably already know. Now they just want to hear what you sound like when you really cum hard. What it’s like to be used. To be fucked by me.”

Your fingers are dipping lower, pushing into her cunt, instantly drenching them in her wetness. And she’s biting down on her cheek so hard, adding onto the litany of bruises and marks you’ve already left on her. It’s all getting to be too much—for you, for her—her whole body tightening around you, cunt spasming around your digits, ass choking your cock and—

“Tell them, Chaewon. Let them hear. Tell them what it’s like to have my cock in your ass.”

Chaewon tries her best. “It feels so—”

“Louder.”

Barely can string a proper sentence together, can’t find the oxygen for it, “Feels so good.”

You’re not helping at all, not giving her a chance of a respite. Fucking the wind out of her, leaving her completely out of breath, a complete catastrophe of need and want and tiny, desperate sounds. But you insist, again, “Louder.”

“I—I—I can’t—I can’t—”

Her wrists give way, she falls into the desk. You’re quick to grab a fistful of hair, snatch it in your fingers before she can collapse face-first into the wood. Wrenching her head back, holding her up so you can keep pounding into her. “Try harder.”

“Please,” she cries, but it’s only making your strokes harsher, more punishing. Everything she needs. Setting every part of her on fire. The pace, the pressure, the force. Leaving her so flushed, and she knows you’re not going to stop until you get what you want, so—"Your gorgeous fucking cock is tearing me in two.”

“More.”

“It’s so fucking good, opening my ass—stretching me out—fucking me until I can’t even think straight. I don’t—I don’t know—I don’t think I can take it—Jesus fucking Christ—it’s too much.”

“You’re so good for me, Chaewon, you’re being such a good girl,” you tell her, cooing into her neck. Convincing her of your own brand of love, whispering praises that she just soaks in, basking in every word—“No one could take me like this. No other ass could ever compare. You’re just too good. I could fuck you like this forever. I don’t care who sees. Who watches. I want everyone to know how perfect your ass is for me.”

“Yes,” Chaewon breathes, like she’s testing out what little remains of her voice. Makes a decision. Thows it all away, uses every last bit of strength to shout out, “Fuck it—everyone should know how much I love your cock in me. Fuck—how much I crave it—”

And it’s starting to hit you out of nowhere—this mind-numbing sensation that’s rattling through your bones. Fire in your veins, fireworks setting off down your spine. And you’re sliding into her ass, again and again, can’t stop, just going, every second bringing you closer to the end, and Chaewon deserves nothing more than a hand tightening around her throat and a hard fucking slap on her cheeks so—

“Everyone should know how hard you’re making me fucking cum!”

Her ass suffocates your cock.

Takes you forward with her, forcing you to fall into her and squash her against the desk. Pulling you in the deepest you’ve been yet, just completely impaled into her thoroughly-fucked ass, until you’re spilling into the depths of her.

“God, fuck, I can feel it—”

And Chaewon’s shaking beneath you too. Trapped under your weight; her body would be shivering, cumming until she’s tumbled off the furniture and onto the carpet, but there’s nowhere to go with you keeping her in place. Using her ass to milk out every last drop from your cock, making her feel it right in her guts, shooting inside her and filling her tight hole right to the brim.

Fuck.

It’s all coming out of her too.

Down her thighs, mixing with the wetness gushing out of her cunt, sliding down her legs. It’s all sweat, cum, juices, these running rivulets that rush all the way down to her feet, pooling on the floor.

No time to think about the mess your making, no time to think about what happens after. Just trying to survive it. The intense visual of Chaewon cumming helplessly, endlessly beneath you. The dozens of tiny shifts in her body; the crane of her neck, the tightening of her jaw, the tight little squeezes of her ass around your cock, and the curl in her swollen lips—

That smile.

It’s everything: absolute debauchery, pornographic, and it makes you want to rip your heart right out of your chest and give it to her.

You hold her through it, kiss her down off that ledge, whisper quiet things from a tender place deep inside you that you had no idea still existed.

And yeah, maybe it’s a little concerning how sweet Chaewon gets right as you’ve broken her. Kissing into your wrist, nuzzling into your forearm with her nose. A whisper, barely heard as she goes weak beneath you, submitting completely when she sighs against your skin, “You really fuck me up good, you know?”

She keeps herself wrapped around you, no immediate ideas of ever leaving, ever existing in a world where your cock isn’t completely seated in her ass, where your cum isn’t painting the walls of her insides. Just so wrecked by all of it. By all of you.

So you keep kissing into her back, soothe her down. Kiss up her spine, kiss that spot between her shoulder blades, kiss her more, kiss her everywhere, until your mouth is a mess and her skin is a canvas of your lips.

Keep your hands busy, too busy. At her sides, and lower still, massaging into the tender bruises across her ass cheeks, as if you weren’t the one that put them there in the first place. But now it’s your job to fix them. To nurse them away. Make it right again.

Chaewon makes this slow, languid movement, a shift underneath you that has your softening cock slip out of her, has her rolling onto her back. Looks up at you; this beautiful, drowsy haze pulled over her teary eyes, and it all should be so played out by now, should be something your used to, but really, Chaewon’s truly stunning.

Gorgeous, all the time, but when she’s like this—used, ruined, destroyed, in a pool of her own cum—she’s on a different plane of existence.

She smirks, because she can read your mind, and sighs, “I’m going to miss this when you get fired.”

You’re cracking up, wiping the sweat across your brow with the back of your hand. “And what have I done for that to happen?”

“Um, try, railing the talent in the middle of the company office, maybe?”

“I think you did a pretty good job at keeping it down.”

Chaewon enunciates slowly. Like she's talking to a child. “I literally screamed at the top of my lungs that you were making me cum. The security guard on the ground floor heard it.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, but you’re already lifting her leg before you can think better of it. Lips meeting her ankle, her calf, once again well on your way to making Chaewon’s pretty little head let go of every thought that isn’t what you’re doing to her at this very moment. “Probably.”

And it’s when you get to her knee, and lower, further down, where she’s let herself get so wet and shiny and messy, and now that she’s quivering again, there’s no going back.

Your teeth graze along the inside of her thigh, your lips drag achingly slow, stopping short of where she needs you to be. “But no one on this floor did.”

Chaewon blinks. Stares at you, adorably annoyed. Happily frustrated that you’re back to torturing her.

“Told everyone to go home after you arrived. So, we’re in the clear. No one here but us.”

A myriad of emotions flash across Chaewon’s painfully pretty features. Relief, amusement, disbelief. Awe.

But also—disappointment.

Because here’s the real rub, the truth of the matter. The thing she’d only admit to in some darkened room; or scream into your hand, or a pillow, or, in this case, a stack of overdue paperwork.

Chaewon lives for this shit, as much as you do.

The thrill, the rush of almost getting caught, the addiction to having an audience.

Yeah, it’d probably make her cum buckets if someone was to witness the exact moment you actually break her.

And you can already see the gears turning in her head, thinking of the next time you’ll push her past her boundaries, raise the stakes, maybe forget to evacuate a floor before nailing her to the closest hard surface.

Find out just how much of a good girl she really is for you.

But for now she just smiles up at you. Lets the thought churn inside her. Simmering, then boiling, and then getting exponentially hotter, wetter; moans tumbling out of her lips until all that’s left is for her to accept that—

“Oh, you’re the worst.”

You quite readily accept your punishment for your crimes on her body; the individual counts against her cunt and her lips and her ass. Serve out your term between her legs, starting it off with a lick that passes the entirety of her pussy.

Bringing the two of you right back to the beginning, where her hands are threading into your hair and you’re putting your mouth to good use and making her go from hushed to panting to whining, and again she’s close to shattering into a million tiny pieces because fuck.

She really, really does make it so easy.

Easy to keep going, even when you're mentally and physically spent; even when she's lost all fight in her, can't even summon the strength to beg a little more, to plead for you to make it hurt better.

Easy to fuck—to make love to her.

To fall for her.

You don’t think you could ever stop, you don’t think she’d ever let you. No, even when the moment shifts, and you’re switching up gears, and you have her spread out over the comfort of your couch instead of your rigid office desk, she still is, and will always be, yours to play with.

And it's Chaewon’s eyes going soft, her arms wrapping around your neck, and she’s holding you tight, holding you like a lifeline.

Her voice is simply gone, no more declarations, but she’s already said all she needs to. Let you in on this quiet need inside her. This gentle craving. For something like this.

For someone like you.

You kiss her.

It’s different.

Take your time—you’re too drained to rush.

Just sink back into Chaewon, fall into her light kisses against your cheek, whispers of what you swear sound like three dangerous words, but you’re too tired to make them out.

Just embrace her, embrace the girl that could have anything, be anything she wants to be, but for some reason has chosen to be yours. Let your fingers run over her ribs, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, and lower.

Lose yourself in her, in this unholy silence that’s gradually being cut into by her gasps and her moans, and—

You pause.

Shush Chaewon.

Hear the low hum of a vacuum right outside your door.

“Ah. Shit. Cleaners.”

A scant thought crosses your mind.

"You think they heard?"

Chaewon smiles. Shrugs.

Somehow finds one last sliver of energy to adjust herself beneath you.

"Maybe," she's whispering. Reaching out to touch you. Rolling her hips. Making you throb. "Probably."

And now she's grinning, and you can feel it in your chest. That thrill that never really went away, the chase you can't quite escape from.

It's against your better judgment, but you're already surfacing these ideas, the things you could do to her; how creative you could really get in your office—just hoisting her up on her feet and pressing her against the walls and fucking her into the glass until she's leaving an imprint.

Chaewon reads it on your face.

Knows that all she has to do is ask:

"Has that ever stopped you before?"

[pyrodolls]

imagine all the yandere monsters in your village obsessed with you, the only human

naturally, you are seen as the monarch of the village. the only thing every creature can agree on, is that they love and respect you. even though you're not really interested in any of them.

THE WEREWOLF is the most aggressive of the creatures within the village. he’s the one that everyone fears. he isn’t the strongest, but he’s the one that never backs down from a fight. he’s the one that would shed anyone’s blood in your name without hesitation. he’s the one that doesn’t even try to hide the disgusted look in his eyes that flashes every time you lend someone else your kindness and attention. he always fantasizes about ripping them to shreds and carrying you away to safety.

he's boastful, and loud. he constantly challenges others to fights-- especially in front of you. he thinks you'll be impressed by his strength, and the more he shows off and wins fights, he'll also win your heart. he'd rip some poor nymph to shreds and hold the heart up to you, hoping you'll be proud of him and spare at least a glance his way. maybe even say he did a good job or perhaps tell him that he's oh so strong and courageous.

if only you treated him as more than a lapdog. if only you looked at him with the same adoration that he looks at you with. he’ll glare at everyone but you. he’ll ignore and growl at everyone he sees, because they're not you.

his infatuation with you is more than a respect for your royalty. deep down, he yearns to be by your side. he doesn’t need the power that you have, just as long as he’s the one with you. as long as he’s the only one that can stay with you and protect you from harm. he’ll stand at your guard for hours if you requested him to do so. he’ll happily accept your request with a rare sway to his tail.

he needs to be your guard. he needs to make sure you’re safe at all times or else he will deem himself worthless. with his sharp teeth, long claws and piercing stare, almost anyone would be frightened by the giant, aggressive werewolf at your side.

but no matter how rough and tough he acts; he’ll always crumble the second your hand raises up to his head to scratch or pat him on the head.

THE HARPY is the one that lusts after you the most. she's raunchy, easygoing, and mischievous. plus, of all the creatures, the harpy is the bluntest. she’ll gleefully and casually mention to you all of her wicked fantasies. every morning, she flies around trying to find you, and once she does, she goes on and on about the things she’s imagined you two doing. the other creatures are far more ashamed of their urges, thinking that they’re dirtying your image as their monarch. but the harpy? she doesn’t give a flying fuck if you’re the ruler or a peasant. she’s imagined your body in thousands of ways, none of them have to do with your status.

even though you have always rejected her advances, she’s always going to keep trying. she’s convinced that you’re just shy and in denial of your feelings. she’s convinced that you’re destined to be hers. she started doing outlandish things to catch your attention and get you out of your shell. she started physically touching you more, such as kissing your cheek and laying on your lap. she thinks you're in love with her, no matter how many times you blatantly tell her that you're not interested.

she revels in the other creatures’ jealousy and hatred of her. she knows the others only think of her as a dirty harlot, ruining the valiant image of their ruler. but she couldn't care less about what others think. she barely even cares what you think. she knows what she wants, and nobody will stop her from getting it. not even you.

THE FAIRY is the most envious of them all. fairies are known for being small and weak. he knew you weren't going to like him. that's why he desperately tried to get your approval the moment he met you. he always leaves you small gifts and watches from afar as you collect them, hoping that it'll be something that you enjoy. he knows that pixies are generally the ones that leave small gifts, but he had to find some way to gain your favor. he's only 6 inches tall and could easily be stomped on by the other creatures. so that means he isn't strong, or incredibly intelligent, or immortal. he has nothing going for him compared to the others, so all he can do is be as kind as possible to you.

deep down, he's aware that he doesn't stand a chance. but he keeps trying. he knows he loves you more than any of the other creatures can say. he would be kind to you. he would follow your every command. he would do whatever you want him to do. he just wants you. it doesn't matter how you treat him or what you do to him. sure, if you hurt him, he won't be very happy about it, but he'll still be grateful that you even looked his way and gave him a chance.

he's usually very friendly and giving towards others, and especially to you, but behind closed doors, he's cruel towards those that you show love and affection to. he knows it's wrong. he knows you would probably be mad at him for his behavior. but he can't help it. everyone else is so much bigger and stronger than he is. deep down, he knows they could protect and take care of you better than he can. so, his inferiority complex shifts into anger that he takes out onto them. and if they happen to snitch on him, he'll just start fake crying. you'd comfort him and tell him everything's okay, because you trust him! he's the one that is so small, gentle, and always gifts you, so he'd never do anything wrong...

THE VAMPIRE has a strategy to winning you over. she's one of the eldest, most intelligent and calculated creatures in the village. over the course of the couple thousand years that she's been alive, she never had any romantic interest in anyone until she met you. you changed something in her. she's always been very formal, and polite, but you awoke something new in her. something... possessive and perhaps even controlling. after meeting you, she suddenly had the urge to take care of you. as she unfortunately cannot be in the sun, so she watches you from afar. follows you from a distance, making sure you are safe. she's ready to step in as soon as she needs to, in order to protect you.

she's more likely to take a friendlier, respectful approach compared to others. unlike the vulgar harpy, or the overly submissive fairy, she's more formal and respects your authority as their leader. every night, she walks around your house and if you happen to come out, she pretends she was "on her way home" and says that it "would be a lovely time to go for a walk" and you assume she was telling the truth.

the best part about having a plan such as hers, is that the other creatures have no idea that she's interested in you. they go to her for advice and try to ask for her help in courting you. they trust her, not knowing she'll ruin them once she knows their plans in wooing you. and they'll never know that it was her, because she's the beautiful older woman in the village that has never caused any problems! everyone loves her. and soon, you will too.

she's patient. everyone else is in such a rush to make you theirs immediately, but she knows you're worth waiting for. she knows that in the end, she'll come out on top, and you'll be hers. all she must do is wait.

THE ELF is one of the shyest. she's looked down upon in the village for being too timid and messy. with frizzy hair, pointy ears, and a dreadful fashion sense, she stays in her dingy little shack in the woods, crafting weapons and houseware to sell to the villagers. every month, she begrudgingly makes her visit to the village's market to display and sell her things, then go straight back home. she dreads seeing others, feeling safe only in the solitude of the quiet woods.

she always knew of a human monarch ruling over the land, but she didn't bother investigating for herself. she wanted to just make and sell her goods, then lurk in the outskirts of the village in peace. but one day, you just happened to be at her usual selling place.

she dropped all her items in a few baskets, standing by ready to give them away. that's when you approached, offering a generous sum of money to purchase items that were rumored to "be of high quality" from the other villagers. the second she saw you, her heart almost stopped. she knew the monarch was supposed to be beautiful, but she wasn't aware you were going to look that good. she quickly and awkwardly wrapped the items in leaves, handing them to you and feeling her heart skip a beat when your fingers brushed against hers. she thanked you, bowing her head so you wouldn't see how red her pale skin became. you simply walked away without saying anything else.

she replayed that moment over and over again in her head on her journey back home. should she have said something else? should she have refused your money or given you more items? should she have wrapped your items in something fancier than random leaves she picked from the forest? god, you probably think she's a loser now. you probably dislike her just as much as everyone else does. she maybe even offended you, because she didn't recognize you at first.

she spent that whole night rethinking her entire life choices. and the night after that. and the night after that. and that whole week. and the next week. then the next. until it was time to sell her things again. this time, she would be prepared for your arrival.

she spent that month lurking around the village, overhearing the things people said about you. she never knew there was so much competition to win your heart! she'd definitely have to study your interests to win you over.

every day, she peeked into your castle and carefully inspected your bedroom. she studied your clothes, hair, accessories, decorations, and more. she took note of it all, storing it in her memory to use later in order to impress you and show that she would be the best candidate for your affections.

when the day came for her to publicly return to the village, she made sure her hair was nicely put together, instead of the usual frizzy look. she made sure her clothes weren't so tattered and dirty, and she was wearing your favorite color. she made sure her goods were clean and wrapped nicely in cloth that she sewed herself, based on the designs on your castle's carpet.

she waited and waited. the usual customers came by, surprised that she seemed more put together-- but she didn't spare them a single glance. she was just looking for you. where were you? did you not like her goods? or maybe her initial thoughts were correct: her first impression was so terrible that you hate her, and you'll never see her again.

it was late at night, way past her curfew. she was packing her things ready to return home and cry herself to sleep after you didn't show up. until she finally spotted you in the distance, walking next to the vampire lady.

she felt her face go red in embarrassment. what was she even thinking? of course you're into someone else. she spent an entire month obsessing over you to the point where she mended her appearance to impress you and maybe get you to spend more time with her. but it was all for naught, wasn't it?

but maybe... she can keep trying. she put in so much effort. she tried so hard to EARN your approval, instead of trying to seduce you like that old ass vampire. she's never felt this way for anyone before. she hates everyone else. she hates talking to people, spending time with people. they've never liked her anyway. but you didn't hate her. you just purchased her goods with an incredible amount of money and never insulted her or raised a single finger on her. she'll never forget that. she'll always be grateful for that. in return, she'll make herself better for you. she'll change, and you'll be nice to her again... maybe even love her just as much as she loves you... right?

THE MERMAN is one of the cutest, yet the most codependent and manipulative of them all. he's just a defenseless merman; he can't go on land! you'll have to visit him every day and talk to him, or else he'll go mad. you can't leave him alone for a single day, because he has no other friends. that would be so rude of you.

every day, he sits and waits for you, posing prettily on the biggest rock on the beach. if anyone were to flirt or try to talk to him, he'd usually roll his eyes and swim away. he has a bit of a reputation for being the most handsome creature out of everyone else in the village. but no matter how many villagers attempt to charm him, none of them have ever caught his eye. in fact, they often leave the beach crying in despair after he rejects them with no remorse or kindness. he'll insult them and bluntly tell them he would never be interested in them.

because you're the only one he wants.

he sees your riches. your beauty. your power and intelligence. he's attracted to all of it. he fantasizes every day about being with you. he knows that you're human and you can't be with him all day, but he can't bare being away from you for so long! he's tried multiple times to crawl on land, but he just can't do it without fainting and being carried back to the sea by one of his fellow merfolk.

he begs you to spend as much time as you can with him. he is overjoyed the moment he sees you walking towards his spot at the beach. he starts squealing and splashing around, doing a few tricks to impress you. he immediately starts bombarding you with questions, asking how you are and what you're doing later, subtly wrapping his tail around your arm so you can't walk away. he talks to you nonstop, trying to make you stay. he knows you are royalty, and you have your duties, but they can't be more important than him.

every time you even hint at leaving, he starts getting emotional. what do you mean you're leaving soon? don't you know what you mean to him? you know you're his only connection to the outside world and the land. you're one of his only friends. you can't just leave him. don't you know how much he cares about you? don't you know how many people he's rejected for you? don't you know how many hours he spent combing through his hair with a fork he found lying washed up on the sand? don't you know how many hours he spent trying to polish his scales, making them shinier to catch your eye? he tried so hard to look all pretty for you, and now you're just going to leave?

wait, you'll come back tomorrow? oh, okay. well, why didn't you just say that sooner? just don't keep him waiting too long. even though you're leaving, he'll stay lying on his rock, staring at your castle with a longing look in his teary eyes, waiting for your return.

[leashybebes]

living at the edge of the world (1/2)

okay here we go folks. will post to ao3 once i have the second part done (fingers crossed for tomorrow!) and have polished it up a bit, but here's an expanded version of this for everyone who was screaming at me 😘

The helicopter is twisted wreckage, and Buck's first thought is about Tommy. But not - not about Tommy being in there, just in the way he thinks about Tommy every time he sees or hears a helicopter, every time he hears the bounce of a basketball, every time he smells sandalwood, every time he sees a standoffish cat of the type Tommy would immediately fall in love with, apparently adoring the little monsters all the more the less interest they showed in his attention.

But he's not thinking about Tommy being in there. He's not really thinking about anyone being in there - surely it's too much of a crumpled mess to hold a living person. It's Chim and Hen that tip him off, the way Hen glances at Chim in one of their moments of wordless communication and the way Chim immediately gets up from where he's on his knees next to the chopper, peering through the shattered window. Chim scrambles upright and jogs in Buck's direction, getting a hand on his chest and bringing him to a halt.

"Buck. Hang back, man."

It takes Buck a second to register the look on Chim's face, another second to look over his shoulder at where he can see, from this angle, an arm inside a blue flight suit, bent at a horrible angle.

"Oh - oh god - "

"Buck. You gotta breathe, or you gotta remove yourself from the situation," Chim tells him.

"I'm good," Buck says, distantly aware of Hen saying careful, easy, barely audible over the sound of metal screeching as two firefighters from the 217 go to town on the chopper with the jaws.

Chim looks at him for a long moment, then lets him pass. It's even worse up close, now he can see the extent of the damage to the chopper, now it's been peeled open to give Hen room to work. Now he can see the blood. Now he can see Tommy. 

He's alive. He's even awake, blinking up at the sky, one side of his familiar face a mask of blood. His hair is matted with it, and there's more soaking his flight suit, at the arm and maybe more worryingly, around what Buck can see of his abdomen.

Hen glances away from Tommy for a second, sends Buck a split-second look.

"You got this?" she asks, already back to working on Tommy.

"Y-yeah," Tommy says, sounding shaky.

"I got it," Buck says, and Hen has to reach out with both hands to pin Tommy in place because he tries to move immediately, turning towards the sound of Buck's voice.

"Hey, hey, Tommy, I need you to stay still for me, okay?" Hen says urgently.

"E-Evan?"

The talking to civilians part of him takes over and Buck is distantly aware that another part of him is howling, begging and pleading for a little more time, a miracle, for anything not this.

"Yeah," he says, ducking close enough that Tommy can see him and doing his best to stay out of Hen's way. "Yeah, hey, I'm here."

Tommy's eyes, which are already wide and panicky, pupils dilated with pain and - Buck hopes - medication, brim with tears.

"Oh - oh my god. H-hey, Evan."

"Hey, Tommy."

Hen waves her hand in a keep him talking gesture and Buck nods, squeezing Tommy's hand. 

"You're okay," he lies. "Just keep still and let Hen - "

Tommy interrupts him with a sob. "I'm so sorry. Evan, I'm - god, in a - in a lifetime of shitty decisions, it was the worst mistake I ever made. Evan - Evan, I'm so sorry. You made me so happy. You woulda made me so happy if I just - fuck - if I just let you."

"Hey, hey, c'mon. It's okay. I got you, Tommy, it's okay."

Tommy tries to shake his head, and Buck braces him to stop him, holding him still while Chim gets a C collar on him.

"Listen," Tommy gasps out. "Listen to me. You didn't do anything wrong. You're brave and you're beautiful and you're - you're so good, Evan. It wasn't your fault. You didn't - you didn't do anything wrong. You don't need to feel guilty or - "

"H-hey, stop it," Buck says. "We're not doing that. I know you're a movie guy, but we're not doing dramatic goodbyes, okay? We'll talk. We'll talk in the hospital, okay?"

Tommy's teeth are chattering. He looks grey. But he's determined to get more heartbreaking words out, apparently, so Buck squeezes his hand and soothes him through it.

"I'm s-s-so s-s-s-self-ish," Tommy says.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I'm so - Evan, I'm so glad you're here."

Buck blinks hard. He won't cry. He won't let Tommy see anything other than hope on his face. "Hey, hey, me too. Wouldn't be anywhere else. Just hold on, babe, it's gonna be - "

"So - so glad I got to s-s-see y-y-you." Tommy laughs wetly, and it makes an awful noise rattle through his chest. "'m such - such an asshole."

"No you're not, Tommy, of course you're not."

Tommy's eyelids flutter, and then they close.

"No, n-no, come on, Tommy, eyes on me, baby please," Buck begs.

"On three," Hen says, and Chim shoves Buck aside to help her.

Tommy's hand falls from his, and Buck tries not to think about last times. 

They get him out of the wreckage and he makes a hurt noise, but he doesn't speak. Buck realizes he's still on his knees, that every bit of thought he has is focused on just - just breathing when a hand lands on his shoulder. He looks up, blinks, tries to focus. Lets himself be pulled to his feet.

"Go," Bobby tells him.

"I - I can stay," Buck says, because the scene is still a shit show and he has a job to do, and - 

"No, you can't," Bobby says kindly, and that's when Buck realizes he's shaking. All over, full-body shakes.

"B-bobby - "

Bobby hugs him, hard and brief, then claps him on the shoulder and pushes him towards the ambulance.

Tommy codes three times on the way to the hospital. 

Buck squeezes his hands together so tight his knuckles go white. Tries to stay out of the way. Wishes more than anything that he was the praying kind.

tagging some potentially interested parties. let me know if you want on or off the list for part 2!

@geddyqueer @adiprose @peapodbond @poppyspoppy @stolemyhheart @screamlet @buck-unbewildered @beanarie @chococara25 @fenrirscarsback @hyperfocusthusly @trombonechurchill @thegingerparty @setmeatopthepyre @rcmclachlan @espressotonicc

[adverbally]

Now My Bedsheets Smell Like You

Written for the @stmarchmm prompts “fake dating/courting” and “scenting” | wc: 1,645 | rated: E | cw: sexual content | tags: Steddie, Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, mating cycles/in heat, intersex omegas, getting together, scenting, first time, vaginal sex

———

Steve splashes another handful of water into his face, scrubbing at the dried sweat along his hairline. He’s still flushed, pupils still blown wide, but maybe Eddie won’t notice. Maybe Steve can sneak out before Eddie even gets up.

It wasn’t Eddie’s fault, after all. It had been Nancy’s idea for the two of them to pretend to court. Steve’s family name made him an Omega of high standing, and being seen with him could only improve Eddie’s reputation. It would only be until the end of summer, until everyone in Hawkins could accept that Eddie was innocent and let him go about his business without constant harassment.

Steve couldn’t blame Nancy, either. He was the idiot who had agreed to the plan. What could be so bad about spending more time with his new friend? Steve would make sure nobody bothered Eddie and keep an eye on his progress as he healed from his injuries. A little more touching in public, a little more scenting, sleeping over at Eddie’s occasionally, none of it was a hardship.

Until this morning, when Steve woke up in Eddie’s bed with the Alpha clinging to him, surrounding Steve with his smoky-sweet scent.

Steve knew Eddie smelled amazing. He’d spent many an evening curled up in his nest with the shirt he’d worn to hang out with Eddie that day, breathing in the mix of their scents— cardamom and vanilla layered with Steve’s sage and citrus. But to wake up with a nose full of Alpha, so warm and thick that it drowned out Steve’s own scent and made him lightheaded?

Well, that’s why Steve is hiding in Eddie’s bathroom now, half-drowning himself in the sink in the hopes that the cold water will bring him back to his senses. He should shower, probably, scrub any trace of Eddie from his skin so he can think clearly, get out of the trailer and breathe in the fresh summer morning instead of wanting Eddie so bad—

A knock on the bathroom door. “Steve? You okay?”

God, why does Eddie have to sound good, too, all raspy and deep with sleep? It makes something clench in Steve’s gut, makes him want to whine and lick the spicy sweetness directly from Eddie’s scent glands until Eddie gives in and fucks Steve cross-eyed…

Oh. Steve isn’t just regular horny, he realizes like a slap in the face. He’s going into heat. Eddie smells so damn good that he’s causing Steve’s hormones to riot.

“Steve?” Eddie’s next knock is more insistent.

“Don’t come in,” he blurts, burying his face in the nearest hand towel.

“Uh… okay?”

Steve sighs and braces himself on the edge of the sink. “Sorry, I know it’s early but I have to go.”

He can hear Eddie’s bare feet shuffling on the carpet in the hallway. “Was it— did I do something?”

Eddie’s voice sounds small, scared, and Steve made him feel that way. His heart breaks a little. “No. No, Eddie, of course not.” He needs to see him, touch him, reassure his Alpha. Before he can think better of it, Steve throws the door open and launches himself into Eddie’s arms.

“Oh. Oh, oh my god, Steve, you—” Eddie buries his face in Steve’s neck, lips grazing the swollen scent gland there until Steve shudders beneath the touch. “You smell so good,” he mumbles into warm skin.

Steve’s head swims at the feel of Eddie’s body pressed up against his, but he tries to stay focused. “I think you triggered my heat. So unless you want me to jump you in about ten seconds, I need to—”

“You don’t want me to help?”

When Steve meets Eddie’s gaze, all he finds is genuine confusion. “You want to?”

Eddie bites his lip. “I haven’t been pretending. The fake courting thing, I’ve been… I wanted to do it for real, so I treated it like it was real. And I know you’re not in charge of how your body reacts to stuff, but if this heat means you’re interested, too—”

Their lips crash together with too much teeth but Steve doesn’t care when Eddie is groaning and licking into his mouth like a starving man. His Alpha tastes as good as he smells, a little more peppery but complemented by the vanilla that bursts on Steve’s tongue.

“Yeah?” Eddie breathes when he pulls back. He cradles Steve’s face in his blessedly cool hands, running his thumbs across Steve’s feverish cheeks. “I’ll take care of you, I just need you to say—”

“Yes, Eddie, please,” Steve gasps, rolling his hips against Eddie’s so he can feel Steve’s cock, hard and needy. He’s wet, too, wetter than he can ever remember being. He wishes Eddie would just push him up against the vanity and fuck him right there.

Like he’s reading Steve’s mind, Eddie guides him back into the bathroom and steals another kiss. “Okay, baby, how do you want me?”

Steve doesn’t hesitate to hook his fingers in the waistband of Eddie’s boxers and yank them down to his knees. He does the same to his own underwear and leans over the sink, catching Eddie’s dumbfounded expression in the mirror. “Here, just like this.”

Eddie catches on quickly, crowding Steve against the counter and sliding two fingers through the slick between Steve’s legs. “Fuck, sweetheart. Is all this for me?”

“Uh-huh,” he confirms, nudging his hips back into the pressure of Eddie’s fingertips circling his hole. Steve can’t hold back a gasp when they breach him with an easy glide.

“Can’t wait to taste you,” Eddie murmurs in his ear. His lips trail down Steve’s neck, leaving little nips and kitten licks along the way until he reaches his scent gland. “Gonna be so sweet, so good for me.”

Another finger slips into Steve’s pussy alongside the other two. The fullness is just right, enhanced by the promise of more to come when Eddie finally gets his cock in him. Steve can’t wait much longer. “Eddie, c’mon, fuck me!” he pleads.

“Give me a minute, Stevie, I don’t wanna hurt you. Gotta make sure you can take me.” Eddie nips at Steve’s neck as he scissors his fingers apart.

Steve keens at the stretch, clenching down when he imagines how much better it will feel once Eddie fucks him, knots him. “I can take it, I can take it,” he babbles. “Please, let me take it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie hisses to himself, his free hand dropping from Steve’s waist to squeeze the base of his cock. “Baby, I don’t know how long I can last.”

“I don’t care, we can go again. Ed, I need you, please—” His begging suddenly turns into a disappointed whine when Eddie’s fingers leave him, only to be replaced by an involuntary chirp as Eddie notches the head of his cock at Steve’s entrance.

“Okay, okay, oh, fuuuuck.” Eddie buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, gulping in breaths like the Omega’s scent is the only thing keeping him sane as he sinks into the tight heat of Steve’s pussy.

It makes Steve burn with jealousy, the fact that Eddie can smell him but not the other way around. He fumbles behind him to grab one of Eddie’s hands, drags it to his nose and huffs the sweet warmth of his scent straight from his wrist like a drug he can’t get enough of.

“Steve, oh my god, how are you even real?” Eddie’s hips jerk against his ass, grinding into him helplessly. There’s no real rhythm to his movements yet, caught up as he is in the whirlwind of heat pheromones, but it’s everything Steve wants at the moment.

“Alpha, smell like mine,” he purrs against Eddie’s pulse point. The skin is thin at the inside of his wrist, practically begging for Steve to bite until he draws blood and tastes cardamom and vanilla on his tongue.

“You, too,” Eddie groans, sucking hard at Steve’s scent gland as his thrusts find a steady cadence that knocks Steve’s hips against the edge of the sink. “Mine.”

It should be embarrassing how quickly Steve’s orgasm creeps up on him but Eddie is thick and hot in his cunt, and Steve’s cock is grinding against the countertop, and Eddie’s scent is right there in his face and in the stale air of the Munsons’ trailer and—

Steve can’t even choke out a warning before he’s coming, clamping down on Eddie’s cock and clutching his wrist for dear life as he makes a mess of the sink.

Based on Eddie’s strangled growl, he’s not far behind. “Ohjesusfuck, Stevie, I’m gonna—”

His knot catches painfully on Steve’s rim, just this side of too big, but Steve shoves back against him until it breaches him with a wet noise and a curse from Eddie. He can feel each spurt of the Alpha’s come filling him up, Eddie’s hands shaking against Steve’s hip and mouth, his hips grinding deeper and deeper where they’re locked together.

It’s good, so good that Steve’s knees go weak and Eddie has to hold him up as they both tremble through the aftershocks. It’s even better when Eddie starts whispering to him, sweet nothings like, “So good for me, honey. Felt so good, made me pop my knot so fuckin’ fast. Just a few more minutes and then once my knot goes down, we can go back to bed, nap some more before the next wave.”

Steve just purrs, content to be surrounded by— and full of— Eddie’s spicy-sweet smell. His Omega is satisfied for now, finally settled on Eddie’s knot, and the urgency bubbling in his veins calms. For once, Steve is looking forward to the rest of his heat, knowing he’ll be cared for by an Alpha with calloused hands and a soft heart and a scent that feels like a warm hug.

[nodoubtily]

warnings : smut so MDNI, bathroom sex, fingering, possessiveness, mirror sex, bulge kink

taglist : @jyikeu @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby

His blood was boiling. Knuckles white, jaw clenched, eyes basically twitching. Is she fucking for real?

Your eyes glance at Sunghoon continuously as you allow this random guy to hold you, arms wrapped around your waist, whispering in your ear.

But you’re not interested, no. You just want Sunghoon to lose control.

Ever since you guys met, there has always been a certain tension between you two. Your friends notice, your sister notices, hell, even his niece notices.

But, in the end, the long game is what goes.

So, you play. You let this person grope you, whisper foul things that sound borderline creepy, all so you can break sunghoon.

And breaking he is. Sunghoon is seething, his mind spiralling out of control. He watches as the guy drags his hands over your waist to your cleavage, shamelessly groping you, oblivious to the storm brewing silently, waiting to explode.

But that wasn’t what got Sunghoon moving. It was you, when you grab the stranger’s hand, dragging it around your body frame, allowing him to feel you up.

Without another second, Sunghoon storms to you. He towers over you, and he pulls you away from the man.

“Hey, man, I already claimed her.” The drunk said, attempting to pull you back to him.

“She’s been mine since we met.” Sunghoon spat before dragging you away. You stumble behind him, smirking as you see his resolve chip away.

You don’t realise where he’s taken you until you’re thrown into a bathroom. He slams the door shut, turning the lock. He then faces you, and you see the frustration bubbling under the surface.

“What’s going on, Hoon?” You ask, arms folded against your chest.

“Don’t fucking start. Like are you serious? Staring at me as you let that prick grope you?” The jealousy is vibrating off of his frame.

“I was simply enjoying my time—“

“You weren’t enjoying shit.” He cuts you off, and you can’t help but laugh. He stares down at you, unamused. “Something funny?”

“Sorry, it’s just—“ you step forwards, right in front of Sunghoon. “You’re acting as if I belong to you.”

“As if you don’t want to.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I wanna see first.” There’s a short silence. “See if I want to belong to you.”

“Oh, Y/N.” His voice comes out condescending, index finger presses against your chin, lifting your head to fully face him. “You don’t get a choice.”

And just like that, Sunghoon shoves you to the sink, pressing up against you, his lips smashing onto yours. You almost immediately moan into the kiss, your arms wrapping around Sunghoon’s neck.

Sunghoon then grabs your hips, hoisting you onto the bench, breaking the kiss. You try to follow his lips, and he pulls back. He snickers, lips kissing along your neck and jaw. But you’re not paying attention to that.

You’re paying attention to his large hands that massage your thighs, fingers edging closer to where you need him most. “Hoon..” your voice is low like a whisper, and it comes out as a whine.

“Yes, princess?” His eyes find yours, and his cock twitches in his pants as he sees the desperation in your eyes. The fact that him and him alone have got you this needy and he hasn’t even touched you yet, turns him on beyond words.

“Need you to touch me.” Your voice is whiny, no matter what word you speak.

“Where do you need me to touch you?” His question irks you. “Here?” His hand trails up to your mouth, running his thumb along your bottom lip. “Or here?” That hand then drops to your neck, wrapping its fingers around it, caging your throat like a necklace. He squeezes slightly, and your pussy throbs. “What about here?” That hand then swipes along your breasts.

“Please, Hoon.” You beg.

“Show me where you want to be touched then.” You grab is wrist, and you bring his hand to under your skirt, in between your legs. You absentmindedly spread your thighs, and his fingers tap your heat over your panties. You sigh between your teeth.

“Please, Hoon. Wanna feel good.” Your eyes sparkle with more need, and Sunghoon feels his dick grow harder, straining against the pants he’s wearing.

“Yeah? Gonna feel so good. You just keep being a good girl f’me.” His hands hike your skirt up to your waist, pulling your panties to the side. His fingers trace down your slit, and you shudder. “You’re so wet, baby. All cause of me, hm?” He asks, his voice low. Sunghoon slides two fingers in, stretching your little hole. A broken moan is torn from your throat, your hands holding the edge of the bench.

You shutter. “Oh shit.” Sunghoon spreads the two fingers, forming a scissor-notion, stretching you completely.

“So fucking tight. Don’t know I’m gonna be able to fit, baby…” Sunghoon feigns disappointment, and your stomach drops.

“I can handle it—fuck—please!” Sunghoon laughs softly, his thumb abusing your bundle of nerves.

“I don’t know baby..” Sunghoon continues, amused by your reactions.

“I can. Put your cock in me, and I’ll show you I can.” You’ve never felt so submissive, but it feels so right. You feel like you were meant for this, meant for Sunghoon.

“You sure, princess?” He asks one more time, and you reach your hand down to his crotch, palming him through the fabric.

“Please, Hoon.” And how could he say no to your polite ask.

So with that, Sunghoon removes his fingers from your pussy, and he licks them clean. He then grabs your hips, pulling you off the bench. If it weren’t for Sunghoon’s strong arms, you would have fell.

He positions you to face the bathroom mirror, hand pressing against your back, and you fall forward, upper half of your body bent over the counter. His hands hook under your panties, and he pulls them down. You step out of them, and he kicks them across the floor. He spreads your legs wider, and you hear the zip on his pants, and you hear ruffling.

Sunghoon pulls his pants down, his boxers following. You feel his leaking tip nudge your ass cheek, and he grasps it, slotting it against your heat. You whine slightly, sensitive.

He rubs against your clit, and you single your hips in anticipation. “Please, Hoon. Please fuck me.” You plead, looking at him through the mirror’s reflection. He doesn’t waste another second, and he slowly slides in, until he can’t anymore.

Until he bottoms out, his tip nudged in deep enough where you feel as though he’s in your stomach. You feel his hand sneaking under you, palming the bulge located inside your abdomen.

“Feel how deep I am in this pussy?” His words and actions do something to you, and your mouth opens, but no words come out. “Hm? What was that?” Sunghoon pushes.

“S—so deep!” Your throat scrapes out.

“Would you let someone else go this deep inside?” He asks another.

“N—no.” You shake your head quickly, watching where your bodies meet through the mirror.

“Not even that guy?” His voice comes out as a whisper.

“No.” You moan out, your whole body trembling.

“And you wanna know why?” Sunghoon leans in next to your ear. You nod, curious. “It’s because you’re mine. This pussy,” Sunghoon taps your swollen clit, jolting you. “Mine.” Sunghoon growls, hips pulling back till he almost pulls out, before slamming back inside. He continues with this notion.

“Yours. Only y—yours.” Your voice comes out in a shaky breath.

“Good fucking girl.” Sunghoon’s hand leaves your hip, gliding along your body till he curls his fingers around your neck. With that, he pulls you flush against his front. Your eyes fill with pleasurable tears, watching yourself through the mirror as Sunghoon wrecks you with his dick. “Whose good girl are you?”

“Yours—!” Your moans spill out of your mouth with every passing second. “J—just yours, Hoonie!”

Sunghoon’s other hand trails to your neglected clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves to your pending orgasm.

“G—gonna cum.” You choke out, and Sunghoon’s tightens his grip slightly, and he doesn’t miss the way you clench—hard.

“You fucking love being choked don’t you? Wanna cum over this dick being choked, hm?” His words only bring you closer, and the band in your abdomen threatens to snap as you nod hastily, eyes still trained on where you both meet.

Your thighs shake, your pussy throbbing with need as Sunghoon brings you to edge, and it is when he tightens his hand around your neck and presses against your clit, is when the band snaps. “C—cumming!” you moan out, your hands grasping Sunghoon’s biceps for leverage, and your hips buck.

“So tight—oh shit.” Sunghoon follows through with his orgasm as well.m, spilling deep inside you, painting your walls white with his seed. “Deep inside. So fuckin’ deep inside.” He groans, head leaning back, eyes shut.

The room follows with a silence. Sunghoon lifts the toilet lid, and you sit down, taking a well needed rest as Sunghoon runs a spare hand towel under warm water.

He turns to you, getting on his knees. “Open up.” You do as he says, and you spread your legs. Sunghoon gently wipes the towel along your cunt, and you whine out in sensitivity.

“Did you mean it when you said I was yours since we met?” You ask randomly. He doesn’t answer straight away.

“Yeah.” He finally says.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“I’ve always thought you were pretty, and I think I’ve always loved your personality and I guess it just blew over when you were with that guy.”

“I’m glad it took a little bit of teasing for you to admit you fancy me.” You say sarcastically, and Sunghoon only rolls his eyes in response.

DONEEEE

[loucifersbitch]

This is a short story.

It starts with Buck entering a nondescript building. He walks up to the guy at the front desk and gives his information. He's greeted with an insincere smile, a name tag with only a number on it, and a sheet of paper with a list of other numbers.

476 - female

627 - nonbinary

172 - female

291 - male

703 - nonbinary

811 - male

712 - male

266 - female

315 - no gender given

Buck can work with this.

He follows the arrows down a long hallway, noticing the ancient sprinkler system and immediately wondering if it's up to code.

Not the time, Buckley.

The arrows lead him to an archway on his right, the large room - maybe it used to be a ballroom - coming into view. It's nicely decorated, but the wallpaper dates the place, and he notices some of the vinyl flooring peeling up in multiple spots.

It's fine, whatever. Could always be worse. Right?

A bell in the corner dings. He sits down in his designated seat. There are a lot of people milling around, some chatting together, others attempting to blend in with the wallpaper. Buck looks at the seat across the small table and wonders if any of the people who are about to sit there will be The One.

The thing is, he doesn't have high hopes for this event. He's been trying to get back out there, but no one has piqued his interest. His KitchenAid mixer is his longest lasting relationship now.

Speed dating hadn't been on his mind in the slightest, but he kept getting ads for this place anytime he watched a video or played a game on his phone. So, what the hell. Worth a try, right?

It's been almost eight months since he - since Tommy - left. Buck shouldn't still be pining after the man, but fuck, he saw a future there. He had plans and ideas and an extensive internet search history of men's wedding bands. But eight months? He should have moved on by now.

"Hi."

The cheerful voice pulls him from his thoughts. It belongs to a woman, and she's beautiful. She has brown eyes that look almost golden in the light from the massive windows, and her hair has obviously been colored to get that level of blonde, but it suits her. The name tag on her lapel says 476.

"Hi," Buck says, trying for a smile, but even to himself, it doesn't feel genuine.

Already going great.

Date 476 is interesting. She's studying to be a lawyer and has a cat named Hugh. She seems nice, but that's all Buck remembers about her.

The bell dings, 476 gets up, and that's that.

Date 627 sits down and immediately compliments Buck's sweater. He refrains from making the boyfriend material joke. He asks a few questions, but 627 doesn't seem to want to give much away in terms of personal information.

Fine.

The bell dings.

Date 172 has Buck immediately on edge. She has that overly-familiar look in her eye as soon as she sits down.

"Have we met before?" she asks.

Buck tries to think of something - anything - but he doesn't remember ever meeting her.

"Then maybe I've seen you somewhere. Are you an actor?"

"Uh," Buck laughs, "no, nope. Never been an actor."

"But you've been on TV?"

"Well, the news, I guess."

Her eyes light up at that.

"Oh my god, you're that firefighter! The one that died!"

Buck suddenly wishes for another bolt of lightning.

"Uh, yeah. Yep, that's me."

"Wow."

She starts to settle further into her seat, and Buck can feel the questions coming, so he cuts her off before she can start, asking her as many questions as he can think of in quick succession.

The bell dings. Buck exhales.

Date 291 has Buck nervous in a different way. He's tall, and walks with a confidence that's very similar to T-

No.

Don't think about him right now.

But 291 has blue eyes and dark wavy hair and a strong jaw. He obviously works out often and keeps in shape.

Buck is immediately taken with him.

Until he opens his mouth and asks, "So are you a gold star gay, or should I just move on?"

"A gold star gay?" Buck asks.

"Have you fucked a woman before?"

Ah, this guy is classy.

"I think you can move on," Buck says by way of answer.

The guy's mouth drops open as if he's shocked, but Buck is already getting up from the table. He could use a restroom break anyway.

When he comes back, 291 is gone, thankfully.

Date 703 is cute. A barista studying physics at USC after traveling across the country from South Carolina. They talk about their travels and misadventures, and Buck is actually disappointed when the bell dings this time. If nothing else, Buck wants to be their friend. He should've gotten their number.

Date 811 is - well, the only word Buck can think to use is 'cute.' He's a teacher at one of the private high schools in the city, and he volunteers at the food shelf on the weekends. There's no spark for Buck, but 811 seems like a really sweet guy.

Date 712 is —

"Tommy?"

Tommy stops short when he gets to Buck's table.

"Evan."

He sounds surprised. Almost breathless.

"I didn't realize you'd be here."

"Uh, yeah. I didn't think I'd see you here either," Buck says.

Tommy just stands there awkwardly. Buck can see other people starting to look their way, so he gestures for Tommy to sit down.

"I should leave," Tommy says. "I don't want to ruin this for you. I'm sorry, Evan." Then Tommy inhales sharply. "I should say 'Buck,' shouldn't I."

"No!" Buck says, a little too quickly. He lowers his voice. "No, Tommy. You - you should call me Evan. You can always call me Evan."

A smile flickers at the corner of Tommy's mouth.

God, Buck has missed Tommy's smile. And his eyes. And his hands. And his voice. And his broad shoulders. And his —

Buck has missed Tommy.

"I miss you," he says.

He doesn't mean to say it, but it slips out.

Tommy looks surprised.

"I do," Buck presses on. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Nothing has been right since you left." A pained look crosses Tommy's face, but he doesn't say anything. "It's just been one thing after another. There's a long list, but the most recent things are my sister recovering from having her neck sliced open and Eddie moving back to Texas. I'm living in Eddie's house, and everything is different than it used to be, and yet -" he takes a steadying breath, "- every night, the only thing on my mind is 'I miss Tommy. I really fucking miss Tommy.' It's been eight months," he huffs a self-deprecating laugh, "and I can't stop thinking about you. Pretty sad, huh?"

"Evan -," Tommy starts, but then he looks around. "This isn't the place to talk about it. Can we go somewhere when this is over?"

Buck is already getting up and removing his name tag.

"It's already over. Let's go."

"Evan, I still have people to meet. Shouldn't we wai-"

"I still have people on my list, too, but this is more important."

Buck holds a hand out for Tommy, wiggling his fingers in invitation.

Tommy finally smiles, full and bright. He takes Buck's hand and stands, leaving his own name tag on the table.

[heartsongss]

two. news travels

masterlist

a/n. this fic does have a male love interest btw, he's just taking a minute to pull up!! also sorry this is short it'll get longer as the plot builds I pinky promise

You’re eating lunch. You attend Gotham Prep, like Damian and Duke. Despite that, you run in entirely different circles. Damian sticks close to two people, while Duke has a larger group. You sit next to the three other demigods that call Gotham home.

Elyse Alarie, a daughter of Demeter, Alec James, a son of Hypnos, and Jamie Brooks, son of Dionysus. Mr. D and Chiron had pulled some strings (used the mist) to get you all in the same school, and it’s one of the greatest things to ever happen to you.

Jamie tears into his soggy chicken tenders,  popping the pieces into his mouth as he analyzes you, “Why do you look like that?”

You narrow your (e/c) eyes at him, raising a single brow, “Like what?”

“Like you’re going to shit.”

Alec groans, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes, “Be so serious.”

You roll your eyes, taking a bite of a fry, “It’s happening next week.”

They all blink at you, Elyse saying, “What?”

You sigh, “It. Y’know, happens once a year?

Jamie gets it first, saying, “Oh. Oh! Already?”

You nod, slumping over, “We’re so cooked.”

Elyse nods, stealing a fry, “Especially considering they’re telling the Justice League.”

You freeze. Your fry flops pathetically from your hands into the ketchup, slowly drowning in the thick red condiment as you stare blankly at your friend. Elyse is blissfully unaware of how she just ruined your life, and is more concerned with the state of your french fry, pulling your tray over to her so she can fish it out with another fry.

“They’re telling the League?” You ask, eyes wide as your hands shift, clenching the table tightly.

Alec looks to you, “Yeah, did camp not tell you?”

Jamie elbows him, “Dude! Be sensitive, they don’t talk to camp much, anymore.”

Alec apologizes as you wave him off, slumping forward, “The bats are going to be involved, then…”

Elyse perks up, “Oh! I didn’t even think of that!”

“It’ll make it easier. Last month, Signal saw me stab an empousa and we made eye contact for like… three seconds before I put him to sleep,” Alec complains.

Jamie pats him on the back roughly, laughing at him.

Elyse rolls her eyes as she slides the tray back to you, and you stop it with your hand. You eat another fry as you listen to your friends talk, your brows furrowed nervously.

This is bad. The cull is bad enough, with the uncertainty of which demigods won’t sell you out. That entire weekend would be spent watching your back, hands tight on your sword until every other demigod left the city bounds. Now, though, you’re faced with the startling realization that your lives are about to collide.

Batman is a part of the Justice League. As one of the demigods participating in the cull in his damn city, he’ll have to know about you. He’ll see you. Maybe he won’t recognize you? You keep your head down at dinner, you don’t make eye contact with any of them. As long as you don’t draw their attention, you might get away with it.

You might stay out of their eyes… invisible, alone.

Invisibility is safety. If they don’t notice you, they can’t catch you. Can’t kill you. Can’t take you. Your eyes drift over to Damian, and then to Duke. You chew on your lip, a frown on your face as you watch your ‘brothers’. Just for a moment, you beg for them to look at you.

They don’t. They never fucking do.

(Damian’s eyes flicker to you, for just a moment.  He knows who you are, vaguely, and for a second, he sees something on you. Something on your cheek. Duke watches you for longer, eyes squinted as he looks at you. You’re familiar. Like calls to like.)

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Every time you see them that night is spent shooting them sly, quick looks. You scan their faces for hints of knowledge, anything pointing to them knowing what you are.

It scares you. It’s one thing to be a demigod, to have divinity for a Mother. You’re intrinsically different, built in a manner that defies the human anatomy. More machination than human, you are. Your mom certainly tried to prevent that, plying you with love and care, but she died.

She died, and you spent more company with her ghost, and the flighty goddess you call Mother than your father. You have Alfred, at least. He’s willing to bandage your cuts, pressing gentle kisses to the split skin and placating you with kind words.

You love Alfred, and you know he loves you. Despite all that love, he’s your father’s, before he’s yours. He, and the children he notices, will always take priority. Besides, you’re a mature kid. You can handle it, right? You can be alone, staring at your scarred face.

You sigh to yourself. You still haven’t seen anything in their eyes, so you assume they haven’t been told yet. Yet is important, because you know it’s coming. One day, you’ll get home from school and they’ll be there, wariness in their eyes. They’ll stare you down, and you will know.

Another place where you aren’t safe. Gotham will become the wolves’ den, sharp teeth doomed to dig into your flesh, tearing your wings until you are downed and doomed for death. Left for the monsters to nip at your body or to be dragged from Gotham into a cage; golden and glittering, but still a cage. Always a cage.

You consider it, for a moment. Your family won’t kill you. They’re strict in their rules, following their morals to the grave. They won’t kill you, but they won’t keep you. They barely see you as it is. It’ll be easy for them to make you leave, and then Gotham will take you. No matter what, you will end up abandoned.

You clench your fists. In the hallway, far from the main wing, you stand still. Closing your eyes, you hear that no one’s there, not as far as you can hear. You lean against the wall, sighing deeply as you stare at the floor. You’ll be okay.

You’re (Y/N) fucking (L/N). Sure, it’s legally Wayne, but that doesn’t matter. Your life didn’t end when Silena died, or when you turned eighteen. It’s not going to end when your family finds out what you are. You’ll push through, and you’ll be better.

You have to.

[babybearnation]

Male reader walking in on Oscar, Lando, Kimi A, Paul, Dino, and Dennis pulling on their underwear and the driver acting really submissive and awkward. Idk if that made sense love you husband 💕

i've done something about drivers being walked in on whilst changing before HERE but this is specific enough to do the concept again lmfao

male!reader (walking in on them naked headcanons)

cw: suggestive

oscar piastri:

oscar looked up in horror when the door to his hotel room opened - he forgot to fucking lock it

luckily, it was just you but, oh god, it was you - you were absolutely gonna tease him like crazy

you leant against the wall, staring at oscar as his boxers sat around his ankles, his fingers still reaching for them

he squeaks shyly before standing up straight, bowing his legs and covering himself up awkwardly

you smirk at this and cross over to him, delighting in the way he gets redder with each step you take

placing one foot on the underwear still pooled at his feet, you look at oscar expectantly, smirking when he shyly steps close to you

lando norris:

he thought you were still asleep on the couch, taking an unplanned nap, when the door handle turned downwards and you stepped in

his underwear was around his knees and he shakily panicked when you locked eyes with him, dropping the material to the ground

you didn't hesitate after that, crossing over to him and pulling him close, your fingers digging into his hips

lando whimpered at your touch, blushing softly as he tried to avoid your searing gaze

that made your cock twitch so you pick him up, sitting him on the edge of his desk and chuckling when he gasps at the cold surface

but because he's so good for you, lando instantly spreads his legs, shyly begging you to do something

kimi antonelli:

he was one of the last left at the track, therefore he didn't lock his driver's room door, but as it opens, he thinks he should've

turns out to just be you, so kimi starts glaring, still so "upset" with you over what you did

what did you do? why, you made him cum in his pants - henceforth why the dirty underwear are currently slowly falling down his legs

there's a heavy look in your eyes as you click the door shut, locking it behind you before stalking over to his rapidly overheating form

you don't say anything, you just pull kimi into your arms, kissing him softly and delighting in the whimper he lets out

it takes another hour before you two leave the track, kimi leaning on you - if anyone asks, he's just sleepy, but you know the truth

paul aron:

he knew it was you moving around downstairs so he continued getting dressed, not paying attention to you

bad idea because, as he's changing, he hears a wolf whistle behind him, shrill & loud

turning around, he meets your eyes before flushing, unexpectedly shy under your intense, lust-slick gaze

the way you looked at him was hot and heavy and paul decided to take the first step, kicking his underwear off and crossing to you

you start teasing him about how easy he is and how desperate he must be for your cock, something that winds him up

you can't carry on for long though, not when paul tearfully begs you to do something because he just needs you so badly

dino beganovic:

the sound of his hotel door opening has dino stumbling, falling to his knees as he watches you walk in

seeing dino stark naked, on his knees and looking up at you, you can't help but smirk, your cock stirring in interest

dino stands up quickly, his underwear still tangled around his shins, causing him to stumble again

you catch him before laughing, teasing him about how silly it is for a half naked boy to fall perfectly into your arms

dino slaps at your chest, garbled protestations coming out of his mouth as he tries to pull away from you

you pick him up and carry him over to the bed, pulling the boxers that started this all out of the way, flinging them across the room

dennis hauger:

you should've been asleep on the bed behind him, entirely unaware of him changing his underwear in the middle of the night

he'd gotten a bit excited in his sleep and had grinded against the sheets, quietly murmuring your name

you'd been awake the entire time, listening to all his pretty sounds and waiting for him to get up

when he feels arms around his waist and a hard cock pressing up against his ass, he freezes, heat rushing his entire body

he shakily asks why you're awake and you delight in telling him you heard everything and now you want your fun

dennis drops the fresh pair of underwear he's holding, quick to grind back against you as he begs you to do something

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[shenachigans]

KIRAMMAN SANDWICH III | Cassandra K. + Caitlyn K.

CollegeStudent!Caitlyn would beam whenever you came to watch her volleyball matches. She would see you situated on the bleachers, keeping to yourself as your eyes wandered in interest (and perhaps slight confusion if you weren’t familiar with volleyball mechanics) while the crowd cheered around you. It brought the younger woman pride and eagerness to impress you with her skills as the captain and main setter of the team.

You were her good luck charm, dedicating each point they scored to you, and her heart fluttered every time you flashed her a proud smile, of course it was only directed at her. When the team was going through a challenging match, she would find your stressed expression endearing because you cared so much about something she found trivial. The glow of amazement in your eyes whenever she set the ball or served (and sometimes spike) was something she wished to etch in her brain permanently. You were so expressive, wearing the truth on your face unlike many others, and she loved you for it. However, the bliss didn’t last long, especially not when her mother got involved.

LawProfessor!Cassandra happened to attend one of Caitlyn’s games out of the blue — something she never did because she didn’t want her daughter to continue her volleyball career after high school. Caitlyn, of course, was sure something was at play and she suspected you were involved. Her smile had never faltered so quickly at the sight of her mother tailing you as you looked for seats. She didn’t like how her mother sat too close to you on the bleachers either, there was plenty of space to create a respectful distance, but nooo, Cassandra had to rub in the proximity between you. No one would bat an eye because they knew you were her TA, and if they did, no words were said as it was obvious that you belonged to her. It was the unspoken gossip on campus.

Caitlyn’s blood fumed at the satisfactory expression on her mother’s face. What was the older woman up to? The distraction cost her team a few points, and it started to take a toll on her teammates. Now was not the time to be petty and jealous, she couldn’t embarrass her team and herself, so she tried to focus on your presence only, her good luck charm, and the point gap lessened. However, something nagged at the back of the younger woman’s mind. Were you sick? You were hot and bothered from her view on the court and it wasn’t a particularly hot day today either. Worry started to wash over Caitlyn’s expression… then her gaze flicked to her mother.

Oh.

That sly old hag– The older woman was aroused. It was clear now: your poorly masked trembling, flinching, and feverish disposition. It was a telltale sign: Cassandra plugged you with a vibrator. In public. At her daughter’s volleyball match. And she was teasing you with the controller. Fury overtook Caitlyn. How could her mother do this? Was this revenge for fucking you first and mocking her for being a coward? She wanted to peel that victorious smirk off the older woman’s face. It only fueled the younger Kiramman to go on a rampage, breaking the college milestones and winning the match with a large point gap, as adrenaline and jealousy coursed through her veins.

Instead of celebrating at the end with her members, Caitlyn watched how her mother cradled you in her arms as you silently came while the crowd rejoiced, unaware of the dirty act that had occurred. With this, the (petty) war of who would monopolize you had just gone into a different and more dangerous route.

A/N: No one asked for this, but it popped into my head. Also, I know Caitlyn is mostly, if not always, associated with basketball with the fics I read, but I think she would be pretty good at volleyball too, she is a decorated woman after all ;) Cassandra got her revenge and how she did it was FREAKY. They're gonna have a freak off smh, poor reader.

Inbox is open! (Please read my rules first)

© shenachigans — do not plagiarise, translate, repost, or copy.

[shyamanuensis]

therapy - m.r

where did this idea come from? don't ask. unedited. am i happy with it? it's alright. mdni - degrading kink, oral; pretty tame otherwise. let me know if you'd be interested in part two xo

What the fuck was wrong with you? Well – nothing. For the most part, you were a sane, eloquent lass of somewhat luxury having been born into the world with the privileges of having a silver spoon in your mouth. Unfortunately for you however; you preferred having something else firmly between your lips and as such, were eager to meet wizards who could help satisfying your libido and cravings. The boys you’d flirted and fucked in the past were mostly made up as an array of ‘goodie-two shoes’ and ‘nice’ that were for lack of better words, boring. Friends had mentioned perhaps trying to find some fun at Quidditch matches or on weekends out to Hogsmeade in order to expand your horizons in the world of dating and sex  - but what you were after, really… was a fling. A one-night stand so to speak, where you could indulge yourself with someone in something so unhinged, so satisfying, so needy – you’d forget your name and not need sex again for weeks.

So that’s how you found yourself here – in group therapy. Well, not so much therapy; but a counselling session open to all Hogwarts students identified as having some kind of trauma or self-inflicted insecurities and issues that required assistance in working on a healing process. End goal – to better themselves psychologically. Madam Pomfrey had organised the sessions – the one you attended being on a Wednesday evening – which was now in it’s third week running and you… under the white lie of detrimental dark thoughts and the inability to sleep well because of them weaselled your way in on the sessions you really shouldn’t have been a part of. Who better to try and become sexually gratified by than someone so fucked up – so unstable – so unpredictable that they’d no doubt, match your freak.

The first weeks session, you stayed quiet – sussing everyone out as Madam Pomfrey outlined the programs expectations and prospects on what it aimed to achieve. A regularity of emotions and how to handle such. All involved aside from you were older students. Unsurprisingly – all Slytherins. Even less astonishing – all boys. Oh dear! To follow, there were only a handful of rules outlined to make the sessions run smoothly that you were mostly happy to run with and oblige. Well all except for one. All information shared in the sessions was to be kept private and confidential – yeah fine. No topics of discussion were off the table and no one would be judged – yep, all good. All students involved in the sessions were to agree to a strict professional approach toward one another; no dating, no forming relationships, no sex. Pfftt; yeah right! That rule you were eagerly happy to bend or break if there was something that caught your fancy because let’s be real – it was why you were here in the first place.

The boys.

Blaise Zabini had been your first target of interest. Cold, aloof; he was silent. A little too silent for your liking. The kind of boy who would watch someone with eyes like a hawk and then tear them to shreds with a few carefully selected words as sharp as talons. Cute. A little cocky. Mhmm… you weren’t after cute though; you wanted crazy.

Following came Draco Malfoy. Conceited. Arrogant. Stunted with the unlikely complex of being a bit of a mummy’s boy and as such; constantly ran to her for his problems to be fixed or at least consoled. Boys like Draco were what you’d affectionately describe as fragile and that – ugh, you didn’t have time for.

With a name like Lorenzo Berkshire – hell, you were near certain that your next available potential plaything was going to be some modern-day Mr Darcy, but no… Enzo was vain, debonair, blasé – another girl added to his body count would have done nothing more than stroke his ego and to be honest, it was really yours that you wanted stroked.

Fourth in line, mhmm… Theodore Nott. Undoubtably a ladies man. He could make any girl wilfully crumble with a single glance of his baby blues. He was one that made you question your existence and validity but not necessarily your sanity, so yeah – high up on the list, but not the one.

Which brought you to the last available option in your therapy sessions – Mattheo Riddle. Fucking Salazar – he was gorgeous. Actually no; gorgeous wasn’t the right word. He was spiteful, impulsive, vindictive, irrational, surely a certified psychopath, but fuckkkkk that smile he shot your way while the guest psychiatrist Pomfrey had organised wandered the room – hoping to pick up on any disturbing or subtle behavioural cues – yeah, you knew Mattheo was the one. Surely the boy would match your freak in more ways than one.

“May I remind you”, Madam Pomfrey mentioned with a deep cough to clear her throat, “That once again, you are all asked to maintain a confidential and professional approach to these sessions and each other.” Uh-oh, were you busted? Surely not. You were just a sweet, 6th year that needed a little assistance getting her emotions on track. Surely you had them fooled. That evening after the session for the day had concluded; you hung back in order to be the last to leave – taking your time to pack your bag as the boys rushed out, clearly having better things to do and places to be and waltzed on out towards your common room until Mattheo grabbed a hold of your wrist and quite forcibly pulled you into an empty classroom down the hall. Feeling your back harshly hit the inside of the door as it slammed shut behind you; a boy towered over your frame – his lips skimming to your ear after he unorthodoxly swept your hair tenderly away from your neck.

“Share a secret with me love – why would a good girl like you, need to attend therapy sessions with a group of misfits like us?”

You paused; surely you could lie your way out of his question. You were cunning enough. He didn’t need to know the truth.

“T-thoughts I sh-shouldn’t be having..”, you managed to whimper on cue; hoping to play up the innocent act. Mattheo was clearly a step or two ahead of your thought process, his fingers knotting into the top of your hair as he forced your head back against the grained wood of the door with a careless smack. Tugging your head to the side to expose your neck.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?”, he suggested with a snicker, nipping at the sensitive skin you now had on display for him had enough that you were certain, bruises would be left. “…and I want the truth this time. So don’t fucking bother trying to pull the wool over my eyes.”

“I.. I was.. I was looking for--.” “For someone to be your plaything? For an easy fuck? For a guy crazy enough to delve into some sick little fantasy you’ve probably read out of a novel and want to re-enact? For a one-night stand? For some fun? We’ve watched you, spoken about you, taken notice of how you cross your legs and grind against your seat when you’re looking at us, thinking about us… daydreaming about your little fantasies…”

You feel your breath knot hard within your throat causing; eyes struggling to stay open as Mattheo continues his observations down the sensitive skin of your neck, your fingers clutching at your skirt as a lifeline, subconsciously inching the heavy tartan fabric up. Mattheo is quick to notice; clicking his tongue against his teeth in disappointment as he edges a knee between your thighs and forces your back to slide down the door to the point where you’re almost seated.

“Would you look at that – little witch can’t answer a simple question. What’s wrong love? Serpent got your tongue?”

Shaking your head as much as his grip in your hair will allow; you bite your bottom lip – nibbling at the soft flesh as it becomes redder, swollen. Your eyes gaze up near vulnerably. It’s a put-on look and Mattheo knows it, but he’d be lying to himself if it wasn’t a bit of a turn on. You’ve got a couple of options here – you could spur Mattheo on, curious to know what buttons you could push before he finally cracks. You could plead an innocence and get away with what would probably be a fairly civil warning. Or last but not least; you could take matters into your own hands – take a lead if he’d so let you.

“Would that serpent be you?” With the most innocent of doe eyes; you glance up into Mattheo’s own dark and sinful gaze as his lips pull into a malicious smirk, his free hand gliding softly against your jaw before giving your cheek a coy slap that makes you whimper.

“Sorry to disappoint sweetheart; but contrary to what I can only presume is popular female belief – I don’t fuck until after the third date; and you and I… well this isn’t a third date, is it?”

“That’s bullshit Mattheo – I’ve seen the company you keep.” “Oh ho! Kitten has a mouth on her… well that – that we could put to good use.”

Shifting his leg back, Mattheo lets you drop like a ragdoll against the floor; his hand still firmly in your hair to swoop it back into a ponytail; using his free hand to lazily undo his belt and slip the pliant leather strap from the buckle before edging his zipper down. With a raised brow and a single nod; he gives you permission to claw away the fabric restraining his cock and jeers in disappointment at the time you take – like you’re trying to savour something that he’ll just end up taking for granted. Tapping at your chin, he instructs you to open up wide and stick your tongue out which you eagerly comply to.

“Would you look at that… so obedient.”

Resting the head of his cock on the tip of your tongue, Mattheo lets his other hand also tangle into your hair; holding your head still.

“I’m curious though – why me? Why not… Blaise, for instance.” You try to shift your head back in order to answer, but Mattheo is quick to tug you back in – no more than the head still resting on your tongue. “Serpent might be on your tongue love, but doesn’t mean you can’t speak around it.”

“Quiet.” You manage out, kitten licking the head of his cock to swipe up the precum which had beaded out. The tease earned you no more than another slap across the cheek – this one stinging before Mattheo’s hand found its way back into your hair.

“Behave.” You stick your tongue back out and nod compliantly. “..and Draco?” “Fragile.” “Enzo?” “Ego.” “Theo?” “..option two.”

Well that didn’t seem to sit well. A shadow of malice flickering across Mattheo’s gaze as he pulled you in roughly towards his hips; forcing you to swallow around his cock as the tip smacked against the back of your throat, flirting with your gag reflex. Hollowing your cheeks, you began to splutter and choke as he thrusted into you – eyes watering the more and more relentless he became. He didn’t seem to care; why the fuck would he? You were a temporary toy for his pleasure to get off with whatever way he chose to. Trying to linger your hands gently up his thighs, the growl which came out like hiss between his clenched teeth only added to your arousal. The wetness from your folds dripping through your panties and down the inside of your thighs.

“Hands to yourself. Put them behind your fucking back.” You complied. “Yeah – just like that. Good girl. I know I said it before but so fucking obedient.”

He’s beginning to dissolve into his own pleasure. Thrusts erratic and unstable as your lips twitch around his cock; head quivering as your eyes become soiled with mascara washing into them due to tears swelling. You were usually the one in control. The one playing the brat card. This wasn’t even scraping at the surface of how unhinged or desperate you could get, but Salazar… it was satisfying to be used. Mattheo’s thrusts unrelenting and reckless, everything was over in a few seconds as he jerked your head towards his hips; balls smacking your throat as you tasted a saltiness spluttering to paint across your tongue, eyes finally stopped watering.

“Swallow.” You shook your head as much as still having his cock in your mouth allowed. “I’m not asking baby doll... I’m telling you to.”

To appease, you do so; tongue sliding to lick up his shaft before you lips pepper kisses across his tip, before Mattheo tucks himself back into his boxers and pushes you back like the common trash you are to him. Your fingers come up to wipe at your lips and he chuckles – a genuine sound of bliss at what you do although it doesn’t last long. Glancing down at you still sitting on the floor, his gaze traces over your silhouette languidly before he runs a hand indifferently though his hair.

“Same time next week?”

You can’t help but chuckle in response.

“You gonna take me out on a date? I’d like to get to three if that’s possible…”

Mattheo shakes his head as he bites his lip; stepping back from you without a single regard for what you might want or care for.

“You don’t wanna date a guy like me…” “Fine.”

The exchange ends rather abruptly.

“So next week”, he asks again, “Same time, same place?” “I’ll think about it”, you tease. “Yeah? Why doll-face, what better options are there than me?”

You raise a brow, knowing you had 4 others to work through.

“Mhmm.. I’m thinking – I might try Theo..”

[misshorneigh]

angst, angst, angst | right person, wrong time trope w/ johnny (+ the others?)

Something something about Johnny being tired of lying on the uncomfortable hospital bed all day. The small TV in the upper corner of the room had long since stopped entertaining him and he was so bored that he had even flipped through a few gossip magazines he found lying on some table.

He had sustained a bad stab wound between his ribs on the last mission. It wasn't anything life-threatening, but it needed surgery, and he was ordered to spend a week on station to make sure it healed properly. “Cannae wait to get outta this shitehole.” He muttered to himself in annoyance as he pushed his legs out of the bed and got up slowly so as not to irritate the wound on his right side.

It had only been two days, but he was already so fucking bored of all this useless resting. Maybe there was something else to do here - he saw some kind of community room or something a few doors down from here.

It didn’t take him long to find it, though he would’ve been quicker in his fitter state. When Johnny looked around the room, he didn’t notice anything interesting, just a couple of old ladies having coffee together - but then his eyes caught sight of you, sitting in a corner with some kind of game console in your hand.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked you when he was close enough and saw you look up at him in slight surprise, not caring that your lack of attention was causing you to lose your game. You seemed to be close in age which pushed him in your direction, though, it briefly looked like you were going to say no. Johnny was kind of bracing himself for a blunt rejection, but that wasn’t what happened. “You know how to play Mario Kart?” You just asked him and he shook his head a little embarrassed.

“I’ll teach you,” you spoke up before you carefully pushed out the two controllers from your Nintendo Switch. He took this as an invitation to join you and therefore pulled out the chair that was next to you. His gaze didn’t escape the obvious pole next to you with a hanging IV bag that was attached to your arm, and even though he wondered why, he didn't ask any questions.

Turns out he was pretty bad at Mario Kart, though. At one point it got so frustrating that he actually felt real anger over losing some digital game that was literally designed for kids. Hell, you were even giving him headstarts and somehow still managed to secure first place. “Yer cheatin’, there’s no way! There’s no way that bloody shell hit me before the damn finish line!” He howled out like a madman. He was this close to beating your ass on one of the easier tracks, only to be sabotaged by you. He didn’t even care about being first place anymore, he just wanted to beat you once.

You just grinned, confident in your abilities, and this went on for a few more tracks until the battery of your console died. He wanted a rematch and demanded to see you again on the next day.

Johnny didn’t manage to beat you then, too. You even had a little audience this time since a few kids surrounded you with interest, watching how the Scotsman had several mental breakdowns and giggling at how funny he sounded when he cursed around. He almost threw one of your controllers out of the window, hadn’t you stopped him with desperate attempts.

That day after that was when Simon and Kyle came to visit him and they weren't exactly thrilled when they saw him not lying in his hospital bed as instructed. “Oh my God, you've been stabbed?!” You exclaimed in shock when you learned the reason for his hospitalization. “That's messed up, dude! Why are you sitting here playing Mario Kart all day when your ass needs to lie down!” You lectured him and to his dismay immediately stopped playing with him.

Simon could almost feel his best friend’s gaze burn a hole into his and Kyle’s head. “At least listen to the pretty girl if you’re gonna disobey orders from the captain.”

The two brought Chinese food as a treat and they didn’t have to do a lot of persuading to get you to join them since you were so fucking tired of hospital food. At this point in your life, you were convinced that it was those meals that made you sick - or were at least keeping you that way.

“I thought you were hungry, is that all you're going to eat?” Kyle asked a little worried after looking at your box of fried noodles in which you made barely a dent. You couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed since you wished you could eat more - like you used to once. But you knew your limits and definitely didn’t want to throw up later just because your stomach couldn't handle oily food anymore. “Yeah, I’m kinda stuffed, thanks. Was almost afraid that watery soup would be my last meal.”

The three felt a bit unsure if they should laugh with you. It didn’t sound like you were joking.

On the sixth day, it was Johnny who visited you. It was his last full day here since he would finally be discharged tomorrow at noon - although he might not use finally to describe his little vacation. He had quite fun since meeting you in that community room, you were just an easy person to get along with. Hell, you even somehow managed to get his captain to play a few games on your console when he came to visit briefly yesterday. “Didnae think I would’ve had a good time stayin’ at a bloody hospital.” He sighed while lying on your bed. “Suppose I wouldnae have, if it wasnae for ya, aye?”

You only looked at him weirdly. “Why are you being so sappy? We’ve only known each other for a week. Get a grip, you weirdo.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Sometimes ya jus’ know.” He spoke out as if you would understand what the hell he was talking about. Johny looked at the ceiling while he thought about how he wanted to see you again, preferably somewhere that didn’t reek of sanitizer. His mates seemed to fancy you, too. Hm, maybe you could all meet up in John’s backyard for some good old grilling sometime. “When will ya be released?” he asked curiously and didn’t ask the question that was actually on his mind. He didn’t know why it made him feel so uneasy but he just had this feeling - a voice telling him that he shouldn’t ask for the reason you were staying here. He was afraid he wouldn’t like the answer, maybe even more than that so he just kept his mouth shut and ignored it.

You just looked up at the ceiling with him. “Probably not for a while.” You answered him and turned your gaze at him when he pulled himself up on his uninjured side. Laying his head on his hand while he looked down at you with a furrowed brow. “What’s that supposed tae mean? Weeks? Months? Years?” He asked in a jokingly manner.

You laughed, but it didn’t seem to reach your eyes. You also tried avoiding his gaze. “No, not that long.” You assured him. “My kidneys only have a few months left in them at best.”

“Then what? They jus’ stop workin’?” He asked you sarcastically but you only met him with a defeated smile. “…yeah.”

Johnny straightened up from his prone position. “What are ya talkin’ about? Ya being serious?” He asked with a very displeased look like you made a bad joke that he disapproved of. His eyes returned to the IV bag on the rack close to you, the one that never seemed to leave your side, before meeting your gaze again. “What’s wrong with yer kidneys?”

You straightened up too and he didn’t like the way you looked right now. Not one bit. “They’re failing. Both of them.” You stated and delivered him the bad news, the one he had been trying to avoid since the moment he met you. Was it so that it wouldn’t stop him from approaching you? No, he still would have. Would still grow attached as quickly as a puppy to its new owner.

“Johnny, I’m dying.”

[hey-august]

Imagining a scenario where crossguild is founded and reader is an underling working for the trio. One day they excuse themselve from the room before a meeting is supposed to start and Crocodile and Mihawk share a look.

“They are quite charming.” “Indeed…” “… I do believe I have a few excellent bottles of whiskey in my personal collection.” “Hmm… I’m afraid none of my vices are something you’d be interested in Hawkeye.” “That classified shipment you have coming in would do quite nicely.” “… Deal.”

And so Crocodile and Mihawk have set up a bet on who can seduce Reader first.

And Buggy is PANICKING. Like his stupid little crush wasn’t already embarrassing enough to deal with, now he actually has COMPETITION (well, even more threatening competitors anyways, he’s are Reader already gets swarmed by the regular) and he’s deeply aware of his own shortcomings, it’s like the universe conspired to make him miserable once again.

Buggy finally gets the gall to try and visit reader in the early evening, snacks in hand, he’s gonna make it casual, ask if they want to just spend some time drinking and eating and- Oh hi Mihawk…. Oh… that’s some expensive wine you got there… expensive cheese for that matter as well. Great. Lovely luxury charcuterie you two have there… NONONO HE’LL BE GOING NO PROBLEM BYE!

So what inevitably happens after three months of Crocodile and Mihawk pulling out all the stops to sweep reader off their feet? What’s the conclusion that arrives when Mihawk finally, FINALLY just asks in a moment of rare impatience “As you may probably be able to tell, I’ve been courting you for quite a while. I do wonder if the interest is mutual or if you have an eye on one of… my associates.” ?

Of course they immediately stammer out an apology, they are really flattered, but they do indeed have fallen for one of his associates. Buggys soul just collapses inwardly and Crocodile shoots an annoyed Mihawk the most shit eating, smuggest look imaginable.

“… It’s… uh. I mean if Chairman Buggy would even LIKE to go on a date with me that is…”

And Buggy fucking LOOSES it then and there, blabbering and ugly crying immediately because???? HE WON? HE WASNT EVEN IN THE RACE BUT HE WON!? Like the little lame dog that FINALLY won his first race- the universe smiled at him for once and he- he-

His colleagues just stare at the scene unfolding in bewilderment, only finally speaking again when Reader and Buggy have left the room, Reader shooting them an apologetic look as they run soothing circles into Buggys back.

Crocodile absolutely ruins the expensive table as he slowly and furiously drags his hook along the exotic wooden top. Mihawk just sighs and grabs them both some glasses of whiskey. Obviously they never had a chance because Reader insert is clearly absolutely insane.

LOVE THIS. A LOT. LET'S TALK ABOUT IT MORE?

Like 500 words of talking about it, pls.

Warnings: sfw, gn!reader, courting croc + mihawk, buggy being buggy, we need more crybaby buggy, mentions of alcohol

Okay, Crocodile and Mihawk laying out the terms of the deal are delightful. Same page, same thoughts, it all just needed to be acknowledged.

I’m imagining the three men sitting at a table while Buggy is just shrinking back in his seat because of how fast the pit in his stomach sunk.

They’re completely talking over him because he is of no consequence in this game of theirs. Buggy has no stake in this. No place at the table. Crocodile and Mihawk know it. Buggy knows it. But Reader doesn’t.

When Mihawk asks Reader to join him for an evening treat, they can’t easily turn away the powerful man. Plus, it’s not often they get to eat a well-plated charcuterie. Some fancy cheeses with all sorts of mold, dried meat imported from faraway places and animals, olives soaked in flavors that sound bizarre but somehow work, and a tart wine to wash it all down. Reader might be more accustomed to more common fare, but this is an opportunity worth taking. 

Then again, maybe not. When Buggy pops in, juggling a bag of salty chips, chocolates with an unknown amount of cocoa, and fizzy drinks, Reader wishes he would have agreed to sit next to them.

While Crocodile invites Reader to start the morning with a fresh cup of drip coffee (which is nearly as hot and strong as the man who brewed the drink), it sounds like a good way to get a headstart on the day’s tasks. Still, when they see Buggy walk past a little later - bedhead piled high, slippers shuffling on the ground, and the belt of his robe trailing behind - they feel a pang in their chest. Maybe it’s because of the caffeine content in the drink.

Anyways, Crocodile and Mihawk continue their game and Reader is collecting all the prizes. Simple but high quality jewelry. Dinners with linen napkins. Fancy trinkets that Reader is too nervous to take out of the packaging that seems to be as expensive as the item itself.

All nice, but sometimes Reader yearns for a stuffed animal instead. Accessories that might be described as gaudy. Or flashy. They want to hear obnoxiously loud laughter instead of a restrained chuckle. They want…

Him.

That sad wet hankie of a man. Not Crocodile, who foraged for mushrooms to use in a dinner for Reader. Or Mihawk, who lent Reader one of his favorite books.

Reader likes Buggy. The shining star. The guy who makes them laugh, simply by being himself. The guy who wears his emotions on his sleeve. Especially now, since he’s wiping away his tears and snot.

Sure, Buggy is a flashy fool. Reader is a fool too, if that’s their preference. And behind their overfilled tumblers of whiskey, Crocodile and Mihawk know that they’re fools, as well. 

How could their standards be so skewed that they fell for someone who likes an idiot? And yet, that’s part of Reader’s charm.

[cosmicviolencce]

money talks. possessive!rafe x kook!reader

warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, degradation, mirror sex, almost caught, possessive rafe.

w.c: 1.6.

the annual gala event was one of the most awaited events for the Cameron family. not just for the shows, for the ostentation of their sofisticated clothes — except for rose, because the outfits is all she could think about. — it was important for the family reputation, for their bonds with businesspeople and their connections with charitable committees.

sarah was too busy with her pougue life, no longer interested on these kind of events. so when Rafe proudly introduced you to his family, so gracefully polite and sofisticated, you immediately conquered your place in the Cameron family. Rafe found himself absurdly anxious, craving for his father approval like he always did since he was just a little boy. Ward loved you, loved how you asked questions about his job or showed interest about their conquiers in the business world. you were a brilliant girl, the perfect kook, and proper to be one of the faces with the family when his daughter no longer showed up.

how relieved rafe was when he saw how well you delaed with his family. he admired your social abilities, and it would he of great help of you accompanied your boyfriend on those boring events. and oh, he loved to show you off. he didn't even hide his wide smile, his eyes trailing down your body as he proudly carried you around the salon and exhibited all your grace; all faces turned up to his golden girl. and you felt amazing, you were right where you knew you belonged since you were a kid; surrounded by powerful people, all dressed in diamonds and getting all the attention you deserved.

you couldn't wait to show the whole island how the Rafe Cameron could get so soft for you, and only for you, running his hands trough your hair and pressing tender kisses to your forehead publicly. some people would die to be in your shoes and you loved it. your neck and ears were heavy in jewelry, rafe's wrist shone with his golden Rolex. Christian Louboutin hugged your light steps around the salon, and your arm was tightly wrapped around your boyfriend while you laughed to all that people, your smile shining at their compliments and Rafe had to contain his eyerolls, his possessiveness barely suppressed.

"hey, babe, I need a touch up" you said, needing to make sure your lips were still tinged in a hypnotizing shade of red. rafe guided you to the bathroom, waiting outside like a guard dog. you felt stunning, admiring how the silky dress hugged your curves in the mirror. bending over the marble sink, you make sure your skin remain perfect and your lips stunning with a dark red lipstick. you looked so pretty, and rafe's been struggling on not to allowing his cock to harden under his suit. he stared at the restroom´s entrace, realizing he finally had a chance to have you alone. his jaw tensed as he looked around, heavy breaths trying to make his heartbeat steady, until he gave up.

"fuck this," he muttered, invading the restroom and locking the door. you gasped in surprise, furrowing your brows, but he was already crowding you with wolfish hunger shining in his eyes, one that you could only see when he was angry of when he had too much coke, that determined aura that made his moves more heavy.

"rafe?" you tried to connect the points in your head, and he was getting closer.

"just shut up, princess. god, you look so pretty in that fuckin' dress," he reached for your jawline, lifting your face. he was breathing heavily, hovering you like a fucking wolf caughting its prey. he turned you around and pressed your backside against the marble, rolling his hard cock against your things and you moaned, "look at this shit, how the fuck do you expect me to hide this, hm? that's your fuckin' fault."

"rafe..." you whined, his grip wildly tight and his dick now rubbing against your clit, making your legs tremble.

"nah, don't 'rafe' me. you're gonna solve this, princess," he commanded, pressing a kiss at your pulse point while he freed his cock from his pants. he looked so hard you could almost feel his pulsating without even touching it. "aren't you?"

you nodded quickly under his palm and he grinned in satisfaction, letting go of your face. "that's a good girl," he lifted your dress to your waist, putting your lacy panties to the side and parting your folds with his cocktip. "fuck." he panted out, feeling how wet he could make you with a simple stimulation.

you whined like a fucking slut, rolling your hips against his tip in an attempt to bury his cock inside you, and he could only smirk widely. but he wasn't in the mood for games, he was desperate. so in a shift move, he jerked his hips foward and forced himself inside you, his head falling back with a groan. you barely had time to stretch before he started moving.

"'s okay baby, you can take it. jesus christ, so tight f' me," he muttered trough parted lips, that pleasured face with the hunger in his eyes was a dangerous combination and only made your core twitch tightly.

he thrusted you in a hurry, letting out short breathy sounds against your shoulder while he curled his body in your direction for a better angle between your parted thighs, your boobs bouncing with every thrust. his fingers dig deep into your thigh, possessively painful, and you had to suppress those sweet sounds in your throat. you looked down to where your bodies met, his cock was hitting that spot inside you and his length wasn't even thrusting entirely inside you. fuck. rafe always made you feel so filled.

he pulled out and turned you around, bending your body over the sink again. "take a look at yourself, babe, suck a fuckin' tease," rafe commanded as he made his way inside you again, his hands now squeezing your asscheeks and pressing you against the sink as he admired your reflection with a grin. you opened your eyes to find your face contorted in pleasure, those furrowed brown and your lip between your teeths as he fucked you restlessy, muttering curses under his breath.

only a few thrusts and rafe already wanted to cum inside you. he groaned, squeezing your flesh harshly. "holy fuck, look at these fuckin' tits. they're jumping out, babe — shit..." rafe slapped you hard and you had to cover your mouth to contain a scream, your back arch at the sharp pain; your walls almost swallowed his delicious dick, "takin' me so well, that's a good girl."

"rafey—" you meowl out, hands splayed over the cold surface of the sink to support your weight as you leaned in even more under the fuel of his praises, your hips lifting even more for him. "please..."

such a heavenly vision.> he had you wrapped around his finger.

"such a slut, begging for my dick," he parted your red asscheeks between harsh thrusts, pressing the pad of his thumb against the tiny button of your ass, making you squeeze him in all your holes. your glossy eyes shut down, and it was even more difficult with your clit pressed against the fucking sink trough your panties, the friction increasing with every single thrust, "gonna fill you up, princess."

"h-holy fuck, rafe," you cried out, sobbing with a shaky breath, "'m coming."

your boyfriend nodded, biting his lip. he couldn't take his eyes off your reflection, so obscene, fuck, he loved that. every reminder of how much he owned you was a booster to his ego, and just the thought was enough to make his cock throb even harder.

"'s okay, angel, i gotcha," he leaned in to press kisses all over your bare neck and shoulders, squeezing your ass before slapping it down again and with a final whine, your walls embraced his thick cock as he reached for your g point over and over again with a smile of someone who knows what he's doing. you trembled, feeling the accumulated tension in your tummy fade into waves of sharp pleasure all over your body. your breath was loud, coming out in sharp gasps. "such an angel 'f me," he murmured against your skin, his pace still restless "fuck— gonna cum, babe, ah—" he leaned back to look down, his thumb still pressing your tiny hole while your slick covered all his length. rafe groaned, his cock throbbing ropes of his cum inside you. he stayed like that for a moment, making sure you would take every drop of his cum while he held your weak and melted body in his arms, your breaths steadying slowly. with a squelch, rafe pulled out from you, making you raise your head from the sink.

"wait a sec, babe," you watched as he took some papel towels, wiping the dripping cum from your cunt before cleaning his cock. rafe leaned in to lower your dress, one hand soothing the aching flesh of your ass. rafe pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, straightening his spine to fix his tie with a serious face; as if he hadn't fucked you in that sink and filled your pussy.

"i'll be waiting outside, don't be long," and he left, leaving you there, looking like a mess. you didn't know where to start as you stared at your picture, still too cockdrunk to react.

fuck rafe cameron for always leaving you like this.

[midnight-bay-if]

NSFW

How would the ROs react to MC accidentally walking in on them while they’re changing?

(Sorry for the wait on asks everybody. Life has been... interesting.)

S: They have stripped down to their underwear, thumbs tucked into the waistbands, ready to bare all for a quick change before a mission. Nothing seems out of the ordinary... until the familiar sound of the old-fashioned door handle twisting with the usual struggle disrupts the silence, as the mechanism sticks at an odd angle. They sigh, anticipating Rain or Taj bursting in, their manners entirely disregarded. It's a routine they have come to expect, and they have had to set aside certain notions of decorum after working with them.

The self-conscious ideas of propriety seem to belong entirely to humans in their experience.

What they do not anticipate, with their hand half outstretched to still the turning of the handle, is coming face to face with your wide eyes when the door swings open.

A stunned silence hangs in the air... until both of you scramble for a way to salvage this greeting—you by covering your eyes with a hand, and they by hurriedly grabbing any material to cover themselves.

“I’m sorry!” you call, your eyes still firmly covered. “I think Rain just tricked me. They said you were waiting for me and that I should come straight in.”

They exhale sharply. Of course, they did. “It is quite all right; if you could give me a moment, I shall be with you shortly.” All the while ignoring their fluttering pulse and the fact that you are mere feet away from their bare skin. Would you dare look? Do they wish you would? When you don’t immediately leave, they cannot help but push. “Were you hoping for an invitation?”

“Right! Sorry!” The door slams shut behind you, and they already deeply regret your absence.

Rain: They hum a familiar tune of home as they pull off bright items of clothing, the door left ajar. They notice it, their leg half out of their trousers, and begin hopping over to close it properly. However, they only get partway before the door swings open, your voice trailing in soon after.

“Rain, there was something I meant to disc— Rain!”

Your shout startles them, their feet getting tangled in the legs of their trousers as they trip and fall to the ground. “Ouch!” they exclaim, landing elbow first. “What? What is it?” The note of surprise in your voice sends them into a panic.

“Y-You’re not dressed.”

Oh. Right. Yes, S did warn them about this. “Sorry! I forgot to close the door! I didn’t startle you too much?” they ask, slipping their pants back up their legs, feeling no real achievement since their chest remains bare. They finally notice how demurely you stare down at your feet, a hint of shyness that seems to emerge only when you are alone together, and their heart skips a beat. “Be out in a minute?”

You nod, darting out much quicker than you entered, and they smile. “Perhaps leaving the door open wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.”

Taj: They were meant to be alone. Rain informed them that everyone else had already left on their way out the door. It was quiet; there was no reason to doubt this. So, when Taj began shedding their clothes on the way to the bathroom, they thought little of it. The heating had been left on, and the place was sweltering due to the humidity. They leant forward, reaching to turn on the shower when they heard a voice.

“Taj, is that you leaving your clothes all over the floor?”

Your voice.

They swivel their heads towards the door, and there you stand, arms laden with various items of clothing, mouth agape, staring at their bare backside... until your eyes begin to trail of every scar.

“I didn’t know—”

Taj never gives you the chance to explain, slamming the door in your face with a resounding bang. They press their forehead against the wood, breathing harshly, their heart thundering in their chest as all the blood rushes to their… “Fuck.”

“Taj, are you alright?” They hear you through the door, and their breath shudders. Stop it. Stop talking. They need to calm down, and your voice… “I swear I didn’t realise you were, um, naked. Are you angry?”

Angry. It isn’t the first word that comes to mind; it would be easier if they were.

N: They are admiring every detail of their guise in the mirror. “The skin is so smooth,” they whisper, trailing their fingertips over the unblemished surface of their torso. So perfectly immaculate. That isn’t to say they are not also taken with their usual body; all the prongs and bumpy skin feel exquisite when in the throes of passion if you know how to use them, and they know. Well, they have never heard any complaints.

But there’s something about being human that is endlessly fascinating to them. The weightlessness of their head without their horns, the ease with which clothing can be slipped on and torn off without a tail… and the skin. So delicate, like the most exquisite silk. N would be lying if they claimed not to have thought about exploring each and every inch of yours.

As if summoned by fate, the bedroom door swings open, revealing you standing there, mouth agape, taking in the scene. “Now, which one of us is the mind reader, my dear?”

You shake off your surprise and swiftly squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m sorry! I d-didn’t know. I promise!”

“It’s quite all right. You can take a peek if you like.”

“N-No! Thank you!” you squeak, backing out the door, pulling the door with you.

“Are you sure? I certainly don’t mind—”

“Goodbye!”

They sigh, a little wistful. “Oh, well… maybe next time.”

Umbra: They never liked taking their clothes off. Each layer gets peeled back like they are being forced to peel off their own skin, grimacing as if in pain. They at least have the good sense to do it in complete darkness, with curtains shut and mirrors covered by whatever dark material they can get their hands on, so they don’t accidentally catch their reflection in the mirror.

It isn’t the scars or stitches that denote their marred limbs, nor their ghostly paleness that causes them pain, but the fact that, even stripped bare, they feel no colder. All of this is repulsive, and each inch of exposed skin serves as a reminder of the monster that lies within.

Most of their skin is bare when the door handle turns, and in you walk, nonchalant, without fear despite the wretch that they are. It is they who show fear. “MC! I-I’m not… I was getting changed—”

Only now do you realise what you have walked into. “Oh, Umbra! I’m sorry!” You squeeze your eyes shut, and Umbra feels as though they can breathe again. That’s right, MC. Close your eyes. Save your stomach from churning. They anticipate you heaving with disgust or running away as you retch… but you do none of those things. Instead, you turn, lashes fluttering demurely. Not ashamed, but embarrassed. Your fingers flex against your thigh before tugging at the hem of your shirt, as if shy.

You like what you see.

An impossible sensation seizes their chest, a tingling and heat they thought themselves incapable of feeling. They can live with being a monster if they are not monstrous to you.

[duckprintspress]

Given how common it is for book posts that say "just give me the book blurb! stop with all the other things!" to get tens of thousands of notes, I feel the need to say, as a tiny micro-publisher: if only sharing the book blurb sold books, trust me, we wouldn't be wasting our time with all the other shenanigans.

But just sharing the blurb doesn't work. Most people scroll right by.

And so we try every single method we can think of, including sharing the blurb among them, to try to get whatever eyes we can on the book.

Of course the description of the story is the best way to sell the book and get people interested, but it only works if y'all actually read it. And getting most people to the point where they'll read anything that isn't already immediately and actively part of their existing interests is fucking hard, so we use splashy graphics and short hand to try to hook people, and then hope that when they read the blurb, that hook will go from "oh, that's worth a glance" to "oh, that's worth a buy."

Also: just because the exact post you saw promoting a book didn't include the blurb doesn't mean other posts about the book don't!

Sorry. I just have seen so much of that recently (and not just because of that poll about "what convinces you to buy," I actually found that whole poll extremely interesting and informative) that I'm kinda losing patience with it.

Just posting the blurb doesn't work.

Signed, someone who sells books for a living, or at least tries to.

[capesch-arts]

The King's Joy

(Richard Joy centric drabble)

Tw: implied transphobia, slight described gore.

"UNACCEPTABLE! COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE!"

There he goes again, babbling like a complete idiot.

"We need to- what the hell are you doing?!"

"Watching how well you've handled things on your end since my father's departure from this world, dear uncle. Have to say, not impressed"

"We are in a crisis! And you dare fool around while our master demands us of-!"

Oh. Don't cross it.

"Don't. Use. Our lord's name in vain, uncle. Your position as High Priest is unofficial. You're only here because your better half had suddenly passed away and you saw fit to take his title, unworthy as you are"

"UNWORTHY? Boy, if you don't shut your mouth, I'll -"

"Or you'll what? As far as I'm concerned our King has no interest in a talentless pathetic second son who leeched off of the wealth and gifts bestowed upon HIS chosen. And may I delightfully remind, that YOU lost his HEART to a couple of nobodies, nonetheless. At the very least my father dealt with more formidable nuisances, you lost to two ordinary people".

"Listen here you INSOLENT-..."

Here we go...

"... CHILD. I have been working alongside your father for YEARS! I am more than capable of leading us towards our goal! Our FUTURE!-"

I should gut you here and now.

"-I don't need the lectures of a confused lunatic!- *GASP*"

"Do you really want to cross that line, uncle? I have no qualms in ending you right now. Just one swipe and the knife on your neck would cut and paint these floors in stark crimson. And you won't be missed whatsoever. The only reason you're alive right now is that The King wishes it, not because he wants to, but because he is merciful. But, that mercy is starting to fade with your apparent incompetency. Did you think that I came all the way here because I want to follow you? Please. I'm here on the behest of our Lord to ensure that the rest of you don't fall short.

Tick tock, uncle. The King's patience for you and like-minded followers is thinning. Now, get out. The King calls for me, and I doubt he'll be happy to see you."

*stuttering* "You- I- Fuck-!"

Spineless fuck. All of them.

My Joy

Oh, that voice. That sweet sweet voice.

"My liege, Lord of Carcosa. Him who must not be named. Lord of Interstellar Spaces. The King in Yellow".

I'm pleased that you've arrived. I trust that your loyalty and service to me is unbound.

"Yes, my lord. Anything you ask of me, I will ensure it be done"

So, why is it that it took you so long to come and join the rest of them here? Have your faith wavered?

"No, my lord. I've taken initiative to learn about our foes before-"

Perhaps you thought that my satisfaction with you allows you to be bold and arrogant. Should I remind you of your place?

"Forgive me, my lord. Please, if I am unfit to be yours then I welcome your wrath and justice. I will die with content."

Hehehe. Delightful, my joy. Your devotion is needed. Amongst these fools who are driven by greed and desperation for my grace, you are a beacon. In time, you will not only be my eyes and ears in this plane of reality, but you'll be my golden tongue as well.

"Thank you, my King. Thank you for mercy"

Now, please. Continue. What have you discovered?

"Our foes. Their names are Peter Yang and Arthur Lester. Both are private investigators who reside in Arkham. Nothing of note from them aside that they specialised in missing person's cases. Why they stumbled upon your heart, My King, was complete coincidence. They were looking for Roland Cummings, but instead they discovered my father and the book."

What else have found about them?

"That they are very acquainted with one another, so much so that Arthur Lester allowed Yang to raise his daughter together. They're practically family".

Perfect, Richard. Perfect. And I trust that you know where they are?

"Their pattern, where they frequent, everything. Should you give the word, I'll strike them down and claim what you've desired."

Please.

I want it to hurt.

Yes

I want them to suffer both body and mind.

YES

I want you to kill and carve Arthur Lester into a wonder of blood and carnage. And as his daughter sees her father's fate, her screams of dismay and sorrow would haunt Peter Yang with drowning guilt and nightmares. And finally, finally, you'll do unto him with the same courteousy as you did his partner. Make it a tragedy, Richard.

"Oh... My lord. I thought you'd never ask."