#i guess it's time to stop ignoring my fanfic

[inseobts]

Stone Cold Feelings

zoro x fem!reader

boa hancock’s love-love beam turns everyone to stone, except you and zoro (and luffy). and so boa makes her mission to understand why zoro didn't turn to stone and shamelessly flirts with him (or at least she pretends to)…

a/n: as I said in the middle of the fanfic I don't really know if that's how boa's powers work, but let's pretend it is.

words count: 2.7k

tags: fluff, boa hancock spoilers, jealousy, humor, fluff, love confession

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The Thousand Sunny stops near a small island, and Luffy jumps off like he owns the place. You and the rest of the crew follow behind, walking into the jungle. It doesn’t take long before she shows up.

Boa Hancock.

Tall, beautiful, dramatic, she appears like some goddess with her sisters and Kuja warriors behind her.

Luffy grins “Boa! You’re here!”

She gasps, spins, and poses “Luffy!” Her voice is full of love and sparkles. She turns to the rest of you “As for the rest… Mero Mero Mellow!”

A pink heart flies from her hand. It bursts in the air. Everyone freezes.

Sanji turns into stone right away, heart eyes still frozen on his face.

Brook’s skull goes stiff. Even Franky and Usopp are statues now.

You blink.

Zoro groans, rubbing his head.

Luffy just laughs like it’s a party “She always does that.”

You look around.

Only you, Zoro, and Luffy are still human.

“Huh…” you mutter “Why am I not a statue?”

Zoro glances at you. His cheeks turn pink for half a second before he looks away.

You don’t notice. You’re busy poking Robin’s stone face “They’ll be fine, right?”

Boa stares “What is this…?” She steps closer, eyes wide “Another one… unaffected? Two?”

She’s pointing at Zoro now. Her eyes sparkle “How… unusual.”

Luffy munches on a piece of meat “That’s Zoro. He’s kinda weird.”

Zoro shrugs “Guess it just didn’t work on me.”

You wave your hand “Me neither?”

Boa ignores you completely “So strong… so cold… so handsome!” she walks up to Zoro and leans in “Why didn’t my beam work on you?”

Zoro frowns “I don’t know. I just… didn’t care?”

You laugh “He’s too dumb to fall for it.”

Zoro glares “Hey. Then you're also dumb?”

Boa twirls a lock of hair, looking dramatic “He resists me… even though I am beautiful…” She gasps “Is this what true love is?!”

You stare “Wait, what?”

She waves her hand “Never mind. That was just a greeting.” She casually un-stones everyone like nothing happened “Let’s all… eat!”

Boa starts following Zoro around for the rest of the day. She sends hearts, pouts, winks, and flirty lines. Zoro dodges every time, annoyed.

An hour later, you're all sitting around a huge meal. Boa's palace chefs brought out a feast. Luffy’s halfway into his sixth plate. Everyone else eats and chats like normal.

Everyone except Boa.

Boa sits right next to Zoro. Too close.

She laughs too loudly at things he doesn’t say. She leans forward, pressing her arm against his.

Zoro keeps moving slightly away.

You try to focus on your food, but your chopsticks keep missing your mouth.

“Zoro,” Boa says sweetly “You are… very quiet. Strong. Mysterious.”

Zoro grunts “Trying to eat.”

She giggles “Do you always ignore beautiful women?”

You stab your food harder than needed.

She didn’t even try with you. You didn’t turn to stone either. You didn’t even blink at her dumb pose. But she’s all over him.

It’s annoying. Really annoying.

You clear your throat “So… uh, Boa? You know I didn’t turn into a statue either.”

She blinks, not looking at you “And?”

You raise an eyebrow “So why aren’t you trying so hard with me?”

The table gets quiet for a beat.

Boa lifts her chin, dramatic again “Because you’re not him.”

You scoff “Rude.”

Usopp tilts his head “Wait, are you mad at it?”

You freeze “What? No! I just...”

Zoro’s watching you now. He doesn’t say anything, but his eye is on you.

You look away fast.

Boa leans in closer to Zoro again “Just look at me once. Really look. My powers work best like that.”

Zoro shifts uncomfortably “No thanks. I'm eating.”

She sighs, dreamily “Why do you resist me? I’m the most beautiful woman in the world…”

She bats her lashes “Why don’t you turn into a statue for me? Look at me.”

Zoro finally drops his chopsticks and sigh reeeeeally deeply “Because I like her.”

The table stops moving.

Luffy chokes on meat.

Sanji drops his fork.

Nami spits her drink.

You freeze.

Zoro points at you “I like her.”

You stare at him “You… what?”

Boa is stunned “WHAT?!”

Zoro just shrugs, like he didn’t just break the table’s collective brain “Yeah. That’s why.”

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out.

Everyone's frozen.

Not from a beam this time. Just from shock.

Zoro sits back down and picks up his food again like he didn’t just say that in front of everyone.

You’re still blinking like your brain hasn’t processed it yet.

Boa Hancock recovers first. She stands dramatically, arms crossed, hair somehow blowing even though there’s no wind.

“Hmph,” she says, voice full of pride “Who cares? Even married people have turned to stone for me.”

The crew collectively “Huh?!”

Boa flips her hair “I attract everyone—no matter age, gender, or sexuality. That’s the power of my beauty.”

She gives you a side-eye “Only my Luffy has resisted me… until now.”

She’s not angry. Not even sad. More like… surprised. Curious. Mildly impressed.

But mostly, she’s just trying to make Luffy jealous with all this.

Luffy, of course, is too busy battling a giant piece of meat “Zoro likes Y/N? Cool.”

Boa’s eye twitches “Luffy, are you even listening?”

He grins, sauce on his face “Yeah. Love stuff’s fun.”

You cover your face with both hands “Can we not do this right now?”

“Too late!” Nami says with a wicked grin.

Usopp’s already leaned in “So wait, you didn’t turn to stone either!” He points at you dramatically “Why not?”

“I don’t know!” you shout “Guess I’m just… not into her like that!”

“Are you into Zoro like that?” Brook asks way too cheerfully.

Sanji bangs his head on the table “Of course not! Zoro doesn’t deserve her!”

“Shut up, curly-brow.”

You blink “CAN WE PLEASE MOVE ON—”

“Wait wait wait,” Chopper jumps up, eyes sparkling “This could be science! You both resisted her beam. That’s rare!”

Franky’s nodding “It’s super rare. Boa’s beam doesn’t care who you are. If you feel even the tiniest thing, boom—stone.”

Nami hums “So if you didn’t freeze… does that mean you didn’t feel anything? Like anything at all?”

She’s looking at you now.

Everyone is.

Your face heats up “I… don’t know! I mean she’s pretty and all but like—not in a heart-throbbing way?!”

You glance at Zoro.

He looks away at the trees like they’re fascinating.

Boa rolls her eyes “I’m not hurt, if that’s what you’re wondering. I never even cared about you two...”

She turns away, arms folded “I’ll find another way to make Luffy jealous…”

Luffy looks at her, food in his mouth “Jealous of what?”

Boa now twirls toward him “Don't worry! Here, you can have my meal too.”

The crew is still whispering.

About you. About Zoro. About the “I like her” thing.

You whisper to Zoro, “Can we disappear into the forest and never come back?”

Zoro mutters, “Only if you lead the way.”

He’s trying to act cool. But you see the tips of his ears are red. And yeah… yours probably are too.

You haven’t looked Zoro in the eye since lunch.

You also haven’t looked at anyone in the eyes since lunch.

Because apparently, "I like her" is enough to set the entire crew on a mission.

A mission to ruin your life.

Robin is smiling in that quiet, knowing way that makes you nervous.

Nami keeps giving you looks.

Usopp has created five theories about "how long Zoro's been in love".

Sanji hasn't stopped sulking.

Chopper made you tea and whispered, “It’s okay, feelings are confusing.”

Brook’s already writing a song.

Luffy? His dumb ass just asked if you and Zoro are married now.

...Twice...

You and Zoro are sitting on opposite sides of the campfire.

Not awkward at all.

Totally normal.

Great.

“So,” Nami says, too casually, “you like her, huh?”

Zoro grunts “Didn’t I already say that?”

“Yeah, but why?”

Zoro pauses “Why not?”

You want to throw yourself into the fire.

Nami’s eyes slide to you “What about you, Y/N? Got anything to say?”

You fidget with your cup “Nope. Not a thing. Totally normal day. Nice weather.”

“Don’t avoid the question” Robin adds with a gentle smile.

You fake a cough “I mean… people say things in the heat of the moment, right?”

Zoro finally speaks “It wasn’t heat of the moment.”

You turn your head so fast you almost pull a muscle “What?”

He shrugs “I just had the answer to her questions.”

Silence.

Even the fire seems quieter now.

Zoro looks at you, serious “I like you. I’m not good at saying it. I just do.”

Your heart does something. Not the stone beam thing. Worse. It flips, spins, and slams into your ribs like a cannonball. And suddenly, you’re mad again. Not at him. At… yourself. At everything.

“So why didn’t you say anything before?”

He blinks “I don't know.”

You stare at your tea.

Another silence.

The crew senses the moment and tries to fake being quiet, but the whole vibe is “pretending not to listen while obviously listening”.

Zoro doesn’t push. He just leans back on one elbow, looking up at the sky.

“You don’t have to say anything about it.” he says, voice low.

You think about it all night.

You roll over in your bedroll, eyes wide open.

Ugh. Feelings.

It’s been two days.

Two. Whole. Days.

And they still won’t shut up.

You can’t eat in peace.

You can’t walk in peace.

You can’t even breathe without someone sliding up next to you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Usopp whispers, dramatic as ever “Tell me the truth. You weren’t turned to stone because…?”

Brook leans over “Is it because you’re secretly blind?”

Sanji dramatically clutches his chest “Or is it because your heart only has room for true love… but that can't be Zoro?”

Chopper hops on your shoulder “Was it science? Wait—feelings science?”

Even Franky joins in “Come on, it’d be super romantic!”

You nearly trip over your own feet “Can’t I have one quiet minute?”

Nami strolls up “Nope. Not until you say it.”

Robin smiles like she knows everything. Probably does “We’re only curious, Y/N.”

“Obsessed” you mutter.

“Potato, potahto” Nami shrugs.

Zoro walks beside you, calm like always, but you know he hears every word.

He doesn’t say anything. He hasn’t asked once. That’s what makes it worse. He gave you time. He backed off.

But the crew?

The crew is relentless.

You reach your limit during breakfast on the third day.

You’ve had enough teasing. Enough nudging.

Sanji makes heart-shaped pancakes and slides you one with “S + (your initial)” syrup-drawn on top telling you "Because that's can't be a Z".

Chopper actually made you a quiz.

Luffy just goes, “You're married, just say it.” for like the 148th time.

You snap.

“FINE!”

The whole table goes dead quiet.

You slam your cup down “I wasn’t turned into stone because I wasn’t looking at Boa in the first place!” (a/n: I honestly don't know if that's how it works but let's pretend it is)

Everyone “HUH?!”

Your face is red now. Your hands are shaking a little.

“I was looking at Zoro when she did the beam, okay?! I wasn’t thinking about her! I didn’t even notice her stupid pose or whatever! I— I like him! That’s why it didn’t work!”

Absolute silence.

Then they explode.

“CALLED IT!” Usopp screams.

Nami slaps the table “I knew it!”

Brook throws his hands up “Aaah young love!”

Chopper’s eyes are sparkles “You were looking at him the whole time?”

Franky dabs away a tear “That’s super love.”

You want to dig a hole and live there now. Forever.

Zoro, who’s been totally silent, finally speaks.

“…Seriously?”

You glare at your plate “Yes, seriously.”

“…You were looking at me?”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

There’s a pause.

Then his voice, quieter “I'm happy.”

Your head shoots up.

His eyes meet yours.

No teasing. No smirk. Just Zoro, being honest.

The crew screams.

Luffy claps like he’s watching a fireworks show.

Sanji is on the ground “Why himmmm—”

Nami’s already passing out mugs “Cheers to mutual pining resolved!”

Zoro walks over, calm as ever. He leans next to your seat, looking at you like you’re not surrounded by chaos.

“I guess we’re even now” he says, voice low.

You stare at him.

Something bubbles in your chest.

Not nerves. Not panic. You don't know what.

You stand up.

He blinks “What—?”

You take his hand.

Rough, warm, still holding a rice ball.

You don’t even think.

You just tug.

Zoro lets you.

No questions. No resistance. He just follows, letting you pull him past the fire, past the table, past a stunned and now absolutely feral crew.

“WOOOO—”

“GOOOO Y/N—”

“SWORD DATE! SWORD DATE!”

You keep walking. Out of sight, into the quiet.

Then you stop.

Let go of his hand.

Turn around. And now your brain catches up.

Oh. Oh no.

You really just did that.

You stare at him. He stares at you.

Zoro tilts his head “So… uh.”

You cut in, panicking “I didn’t plan this.”

He blinks “No?”

“No!”

You throw your hands up “I just got overwhelmed! And I didn’t wanna talk about feelings in front of Luffy and Sanji and Nami and Usopp and Brook and—”

Zoro nods slowly “Got it.”

“And now I brought you out here and I have no idea what to say.”

He’s quiet for a second. Then “You already said it back there.”

You freeze.

Zoro steps closer. Not too close. Just enough.

“You like me.”

You glance up at him “...Yeah.”

“And I like you.”

You nod, swallowing “Yeah.”

Silence again.

A breeze rustles the leaves.

Zoro exhales “Okay. So… now what?”

You blink “I thought you’d know.”

He scratches the back of his neck “I’m great at fighting. Not so great at this.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself. It breaks the tension, just a little.

“I guess we figure it out” you say softly.

He looks at you “Together?”

You smile “Yeah. Together.”

Zoro steps forward, hand brushing yours, not grabbing, just offering.

You take it.

This time, slower.

The next morning, you stretch your arms and walk out to the clearing.

Zoro’s already there. Training, of course.

Sweat glistens on his forehead. His bandana is around his arm today, not on his head. He’s focused, steady. Every swing has weight. Control. Grace.

You watch for a second too long.

Then he notices you “You wanna join?”

You blink “Join… what? Your intense ‘sword vs gravity’ fight?”

He smirks “Sparring. Not that fancy.”

You step forward “Fine. But if I fall flat on my face, that’s your fault.”

“Deal.”

You grab a wooden practice sword and face him.

He waits for you to make the first move. You swing. He blocks.

It starts slow. Testing pace. Testing rhythm.

Then faster.

Back and forth.

The thud of wood against wood, your feet shifting on the dirt, breath picking up.

He dodges a swing and smirks “You’re not bad.”

“Don’t go easy on me” you shoot back.

He spins, blocks you again “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

At some point, you’re laughing.

Not because it’s funny, just because it feels good. Like something stuck inside your chest is finally shaking loose.

Zoro lunges. You duck.

You step in close, too close, and suddenly you're chest-to-chest.

Frozen.

Your hands are still gripping the sword.

His hand is on your arm to steady you. And neither of you are moving.

You’re both breathing hard.

His face is close. Closer than it’s ever been.

His eyes flick down to your lips for half a second.

Then back to your eyes.

“Should we—” you whisper.

He kisses you.

It’s not rushed. Not clumsy. It’s careful. Solid. Just like him. Like he thought about it before, maybe a hundred times.

Maybe he was just waiting for the right second. And now here it is.

Your sword clatters to the ground. You don’t care.

His hand slides behind your back. Yours finds his shoulder.

The world quiets.

When you pull away he’s still close, looking at you like you’re the only thing he sees.

You whisper, “That was…”

He raises a brow “Bad?”

You smile “No. That was good.”

He grins “Wanna do it again?”

You kiss him this time.

No swords. No teasing. Just you and him.

Soft. Steady. Real.

And this is how your romance story started.

[bicth-and-in-that-order]

Let’s talk about THAT CaitVi scene and the fandom’s response to it

All cards out on the table, I used to adore CaitVi. I was there in the trenches reading the fanfics, watching the shipping videos, even going on fucking dynasty scans for the fanart + doujinshis😭 (iykyk). I loved CaitVi down bad, and of all the things I was most excited for in S2, this ship becoming canon was near the top of the list. I say this to say I don’t come from a place of apathy or hatred when it comes to this ship, but just genuine disappointment and disgust for how it was mishandled in season 2. Particularly when it comes to the abuse.

In preparation of this rant, I did my homework to fully understand both sides. I watched this video:

Which explains Cait’s behavior and even addresses her physical abuse. And, as much as it pains me to say this, I looked through the CaitVi tag on tumblr and read as many posts as I could defending Caitlyn and CaitVi as a ship.

Before I begin, I think it would be fair to lay out the main defense before tearing into these people. So let’s talk about Cait:

The main thesis of “Stop Me Oh’s” video and many other CaitVi shippers is that Caitlyn is someone who doesnt like to communicate her feelings and thinks actions speak louder than words. By helping Vi without hesitation during Act 2 and putting aside her grief to allow Vi a chance to talk to Jinx, someone who murdered her mother, Cait is already showing immense remorse. She’s taking steps to make amends for her actions and proving that her love and trust in Vi outweighs her desire to get revenge. She doesn’t need to actually utter a single apology when she’s done more than enough to make up for her misgivings.

And excusing the whole fascist thing, ALL she did was hit Vi. She didn’t kill the poor thing like Jayce and they weren’t fighting to death like Ekko and Jinx:

And, let’s be honest, wouldn’t you do the same? Put yourself Cait’s shoes. Imagine your family was blown up by your partner’s crazy lunatic sister. You watched her turn your world upside down. And while your partner is fully supportive of hunting down your mother’s murderer, she suddenly switches up when it’s time to actually go through with it. She’s stopping you from shooting this deranged killer all because you MIGHT shoot some annoying child. And then you miss the best chance you’ll ever get to take down this terrorist and your partner comes crawling back to you, talking about how you’re just like that murderer. Then, in the heat of the moment, you hit her with the butt of your gun. You hit her and you abandon her in a hole while she cries on the ground. It’s harsh, but doesn’t she deserve it?

Don’t you see? Cait is a poor rich girl who lost her mother. Unlike these other murderers and thugs, all she did was hit Vi during a moment of passion and would never, ever, ever, ever, do it again. Vi should be grateful Cait even let her see her only family, she could’ve just fucking killed the bitch.

Okay. Jokes asides, let’s just address each of these points one by one.

1. Cait already apologized through her actions

This is the most common defense I see for Cait, and it’ll be the lengthiest one too.

So my question is: For what?

Ignoring the fact that verbally apologizing IS an action, how does Cait deciding not to pursue Jinx and allowing Vi to see her only family correlate to her making amends for the physical abuse?At the very least , I can see Cait siding against Ambessa and admitting she fell for propaganda as “apologizing” for her turning to fascism. I guess. But what is Cait atoning for exactly when she helps out Vi? I’ll try to explain what I think it is:

When Cait says Vi has Jinx’s blood, shoves her gun into her stomach, and leaves her in a ditch, that represents her no longer trusting Vi. Cait thinks she’ll choose Jinx over her. So later, when Cait sides with Vi and allows her to see Jinx, it’s shows that she’s willing to trust Vi again and her judgement of character. Which Vi understands. When we think about it this way, Cait hitting Vi isn’t read as “physical abuse” by the narrative because the physical act of violence isn’t the issue the writers are trying to portray. No, the issue is Cait no longer trusting Vi. Physical abuse was just used as a vehicle to convey Cait’s distrust of Vi, who she now sees as a stranger/enemy….for like, an episode or two, then switches up lol.

But my point in saying all of this is, Cait isn’t really “apologizing through her actions” about the physical abuse. In fact, that was never even a consideration. And no, we’re not going to brush it off by saying “well shouldn’t this count for Cait hitting Vi too”. If we’re to take physical abuse seriously, and WE ARE you freaks, this is an offense that Cait needs to address separately. Properly.

Imagine if someone punched you in the face then stole your cookies. They never apologize to you for anything, but over the following days, they buy you cookies, maybe even some milk. Do you think these actions are enough of an “apology” for punching you in the fucking face? If they are then you need some serious help.

Ah, and contrary to the popular belief that Cait doesn’t need to verbally apologize bc she shows her actions through words and yadda yadda yadda, Cait does, in fact, try to apologize in Jinx’s suicide cell. About fucking Maddie. Then she gets cut off. You would think Cait wouldn’t feel the need to apologize about Maddie since “aCtIonS sPeAk LoUdeR tHaN wOrDs” but I guess Cait picks and choose what she feels sorry about.

And I can already hear the counter argument. “It’s not about if I forgive Cait, but if Vi does since she’s the victim. Cait and Vi kiss and make up, and by the season’s end, they’re a couple. Therefore, Vi forgives Cait about everything.”

Putting aside the cycle of abuse, my question is: how does Vi feel about Cait hitting her? And vice versa. Since the fandom loves throwing “media literacy” around so much, let’s put that to the test. While the physical abuse is never brought up, hinted at, thought about, or addressed ever again (much like how the fandom treats it), that doesn’t mean we can’t talk about the implications.

If Vi doesn’t specifically mention the physical abuse, what does that mean for her character? Did Vi think she deserved it, or maybe she was just used to it, maybe she thought it was in the heat of the moment and Cait would never hurt her again (super toxic mindset btw), etc etc.

If Cait never mentions her physically abusing Vi, what does that mean for her character? Does she even care, does she think she was justified, did she think Vi could take it, why is Maddie the first thing she apologizes about and not hitting Vi and leaving her in a dank hole?

Because we could easily be getting into toxic/abusive territory, and when it comes to physical violence, there’s very little wiggle room for a more positive interpretation.

2. These characters aren’t perfect, they’re flawed

So this argument falls back on the “well pobody’s nerfect” defense and to that extent I agree. I think Cait is selfish and callous, but all the other characters who have similar flaws (think Silco, Marco, Ambessa, probably more) end up fucking dying and/or have actual narrative consequences. I’ve seen people argue that Cait losing her eye is a narrative consequence and IT IS for Cait’s alt right phase and choosing to follow Ambessa but it’s NOT for hitting Vi. Neither is Maddie betraying her. An appropriate narrative consequence would’ve been Vi leaving her ass, but I promise you the same people defending Cait would’ve had a thousand think pieces about how the writers sabotaged Cait’s character. Arcane is NOT a show about bad people getting away with bad things either.

3. Well Jayce killed Viktor / Ekko and Jinx tried to kill each other

So this argument acknowledges Cait’s abuse and her lack of apology but tries to deflect by claiming the other couples are violent, if not more. Even though this is a classic whataboutism, I’ll address it. I won’t acknowledge the timebomb side of the argument because it’s incredibly dumb, but for Jayvik, where do we begin? Recall that after Cait and Vi kissed, they were on romantic terms. That’s why Cait even bothers bringing up Maddie, and it’s really more so to let the viewer know Cait will excuse abuse but draws the line at infidelity. During Act 2, Jayce and Viktor are enemies and Viktor will literally kill everyone if he continues on his path. Jayce could have at least talked to Viktor first, but the writers chose to make him deranged or whatever so that was out of the question. And again, they’re enemies. Fighting isn’t off the table, even killing. If Viktor sucker punched Jayce while they were astral projecting together, then that might be analogous to Cait and Vi, but they don’t.

4. Not all relationships are perfect

This is one is similar to point two, but I’m taking a different angle. No, not all relationships are perfect, but I would never call physical abuse a “flaw” that’s to be expected in a normal, healthy relationship. Once you introduce violence, we call that abusive. I didn’t know we were in dire need of an abusive lesbian relationship, but I’ll walk with you.

If Arcane had the balls, CaitVi could’ve been portrayed as the toxic yuri couple it clearly is. They could’ve leaned into Vi being desperate enough to take Cait back and Cait not giving a single fuck about hitting Vi and leaving her. And if they did, this post wouldn’t exist. But they don’t. We’re genuinely supposed to like this slop and view it as a good thing because they kiss and play fun pop music while they fuck instead of the more appropriate “Poison” (by Bell Biv DeVoe ofc).

5. Well Jinx did XYZ to Vi

Another whataboutism. At risk of making this post longer than it already is, I’m gonna be brief. Yes, Jinx did awful things to Vi, but the narrative properly punishes Jinx for all of her actions (I mean the girl literally sacrifices herself) and wastes no time calling her out, especially Vi. Behind Cait, Vi is Jinx’s biggest hater. Literally chokes the girl out on sight. So let’s not pretend there’s some hypocrisy going on here, though it doesn’t escape me that many Cait fans end up being Jinx haters.

With that, I think I’ve covered all the major defenses for Caitvi’s physical abuse. All I can say is that the relationship is fucked and Vi deserves better.

[whilesjunnie]

Vampire!Choso x amab reader

AN: Hey guys, this is my first fanfic so sorry if it’s not the best. I had a lot of fun writing it and will probably write more in the future. Tell me if you like it and feel free to leave any tips for new writers🫠

Tags: blood mentioned, smut, top choso, amab reader, spit as lube, biting, idk what else

“Baby pleaseeeee, just one little bite?…” Choso whined as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses starting from your shoulder.

“Cho, I fed you earlier. You hungry again already?” You whispered back softly as your body trembled, caught off guard by the sensation of your lover’s lips against your skin. The feeling moving down your body and stopping itself right at your cock.

His kisses somehow always managed to get you all hot and bothered within minutes, like he knew exactly where you were sensitive and where he'd get the best reaction out of you...which he totally did.

You don't exactly remember how this absolute hunk of a man had become yours, but he'd been like this for as long as you could recall. A clingy, obsessive, and needy guy with a taste for blood. Specifically, your blood. And you'd always give it up willingly. I mean, who could refuse such a cutie when he looked so good on his knees, grabbing at your thighs, just begging for a taste - a drop of your heavenly fluids? Definitely not you. Never in a million years.

So, when that same cutie came marching around the corner, plopping down beside you, and pulling you into his lap, who were you to ignore his requests?

“ ‘m not hungry. Just want another taste of you right now..." Choso's breathing was heavy and deliberate as he began to inhale in your scent. He took in all of you as if your existence was fleeting, like you'd disappear from his arms at any given moment and he needed to have all of you before that moment ever came near.

As your lover continued to plant kisses across your nape, you couldn't help but feel your pants tighten around your crotch, a bulge forming. "I guess one more wouldn't hurt..." You finally replied, deciding that you too, needed a taste of him.

He smiled as he heard your words. His soft smirk transformed into a fang baring grin, his breathing heavy as he leaned in.

You winced as you felt a bit of pain slowly blooming above your clavicle.

His teeth pierced your flesh, small droplets of red slowly spilling from the wounds. Choso lapped up the blood, sucking out the prized liquid.

His movements soon became more erratic after tasting you. Hands roamed your body, trying to feel all of you at once. He had decided that your clothes were his biggest enemy at the moment. Keeping him from seeing your body, his interpretation of absolute perfection.

So, he tore them all off you.

"You really could've just asked me to undress for you..." You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief as the mangled remains of your favorite shorts laid at your side. Whatever, you'd find a way to make him buy you better ones in the future. Right now, all you wanted to focus on was how you were going to handle Choso manhandling you for the next few hours.

-In the bedroom

Choso was kneeling in front of you, head resting on your lap as he looked up at you with a smitten look on his face. The way he admired you, his eyes devouring every part of your body. It made your erection throb with excitement, a bead of precum already forming at the slit.

"God, sweetheart... You're so fuckin' gorgeous… and pretty eager for me by the looks of it." Choso giggled, kissing his way up your inner thighs. He took his sweet time savoring everywhere his lips touched, loving how your legs trembled beneath his touch.

He would leave deep bite marks on your thighs, the pain blending with the pleasure you got from him. Most of the marks oozed blood before he thoroughly licked it all up, causing you to shiver.

“B-babe..please. You’re just teasing me at this point..” You whined, yearning for him to just take you completely.

“ ‘m sorry, love..I guess-I got carried away..”Choso chuckled softly, his attention moving to your cock. He hooked his hands underneath your legs, spreading you even wider while closing the distance between you guys.

You moaned, bucked your hips forward as you felt Choso licking your cock, leaving wet stripes of saliva up the shaft. Then, he took it in his mouth.

He tightened his grip on you, bobbing his head back and forth on your cock as his tongue massaged your tip. Taking you was hardly a challenge for him despite your above average size.

“Ngh! W-wait…give-give me a second.” You cried out. Choso, too engrossed in the feeling of you, ignored your pleas. He only moved faster, causing more moans and grunts to spill from your lips.

“C-Cho, ‘m c-close…so cl-close!” Hearing your words, your lover immediately slowed, coming to a complete stop as he released your cock from its oral confinement with a small pop.

“Don’t cum too fast, babe. I want us to do it together.” He said, finally climbing up on the bed with you. Once again, his hands found their place on your legs, pushing your thighs up to your chest with your ankles over his shoulders.

“Make sure to tell me if i’m going too far. I don’t wanna hurt you.” Choso said, leaning down for a kiss. Your lips met a short yet sweet embrace, one that left you begging for more of him.

Once he pulled away, he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them and making sure they were nice and wet.

Somehow, the sight of his bloodstained lips sucking his fingers gave you butterflies in your stomach which were soon overpowered by the sensation of his fingers poking and prodding at your exposed rim.

Once he decided he’d teased you enough, He pushed his fingers deep inside you, earning an arch from your back followed by a soft moan.

He continued to thrust his hand inside you, his fingers scissoring open your tight hole for later use. You met his thrusts, clenching and grinding around his fingers, aching for more. “I-I need you, Cho…so bad. P-please, give it to me. I can take it…I’ll be good, promise…”

His already rock hard cock throbbed painfully against his boxers at the sight of you. You were coming undone for him while not have even reaching the main event. “You’re already doing so good for me, baby boy. Just stay like that, you’re absolutely perfect.”

As he took his fingers out, a dissatisfied whine left you mouth, making it known that you were getting impatient.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long, because in a matter of seconds, you felt Choso’s member enter you. His vigorous thrusts following suit.

Wet plaps, the grunts and whines of your lover combined with the chorus of your pleasure filled moans created a symphony of sexual noise in the room.

“F-Fuck! B-Baby…y-you’re still so tight. It’s too much.” He groaned, plowing into your ass even deeeper. Your g-spot was being absolutely destroyed by him and his obscenely large dick.

“I-if ya keep doin’ that…i’m gonna c-cum…won’t be able to hold it, b-babe…” You managed to mutter out, despite the ever increasing pleasure filling your insides. Tears formed in your eyes as you latched on to Choso’s back, nails digging into his skin.

“D-Don’t hold it in…C-cum for me, love…I’m so close too!”

With those words, you allowed yourself to let go, your body being sent over the edge, orgasming. As you came, you clenched around Choso as if trying to make your hole remember every ridge and vein his cock carried.

Warm ropes of semen painted your chest, some even landing on your face. This sight of you, all messy looking and with cum spilled all over yourself, was what sent Choso past his limit.

“F-fuck, I’m cummin’!”

His grip on you tightened as he leaned his face into your neck and bit down, hard. Many whimpers escaped his occupied lips as he shot his load inside you, filling you to the brim with his seed.

The two of you lied there for a good while, Choso, licking the fresh wound he had made before looking back at you with his puppy dog eyes.

“Round 2…?”

[hyuckhyukahansol]

Hold On, We're Going Home

────────────

"you don't even notice the click of him locking the door while he turns the lights off before he curls up behind you, chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you slowly. sensually. mark's breath fans on the back of your neck before he plants several slow kisses there, moving until he reaches right below the shell of your ear. all the while, his large, warm hands can't seem to to anything other than wander under your hoodie to caress your waist and stomach. you let out a breathy and quiet chuckle.

"babe, what are you doing?" you ask in a whisper.

"you know you're mine, right?" mark whispers into your ear, completely ignoring the question, yet answering it at the same time.

your skin heats all too quickly. you know exactly what this is. he's jealous. of what, you're really not sure.”

or

you're a popular soloist and your secret boyfriend is a kpop idol. when your Canadian tour dates line up, you both opt to stay at his parent's home in Vancouver, but even with his parents asleep downstairs, mark just can't seem to keep his hands off of you after your show.

tags -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈  idol!mark, soloist!reader, fem!reader, reader is american, porn with minimal plot, established relationship, childhood room, twin bed, missionary, jealousy, possessiveness, praise AND degradation, mentions of reader being small, ATTEMPTED quiet sex, sacrilege if you squint (theres a jesus on his wall), size kink if u squint, marks parents are mentioned but theres no dialogue with them because im not writing that, reader has her drivers license, implied that reader is not christian, reader's love language is being mean to mark, EXTREMELY unserious

nicknames ┇ his babe yours princess!! baby... etc

date started┇march 20 2025

date posted ┇march 28 2025

wc ┇4.4k

A/Ns ┇ nothing like a good "lets fuck on my childhood bed!" 

room based on the mark's homecoming teasers for firstfruit.

umm mark probably doesnt have a childhood bedroom in canada because he was like 13 when he left for sm and also he lived in new york before that so lets just pretend for the sake of the fanfic that he does ok? ok! >_<

in section 2 i mention bible study as a way for me to skate around actually writing meeting marks parents LMFAOOO um im unsure if this is a popular thing everywhere else but like i know in the south at least its like youth group but for older people where they'll have a like mini religion discussion thing? i dont know i havent been to church in several years and i'm atheist 😭 iykyk i guess

reader's dialogue is based off of me and im a very strange fella and i cannot be serious for one single second so its kind of bad 😭

FINAL NOTE im completely a virgin like ive never even kissed anyone LMFAO so if the smut seems inaccurate at all thats on me because i refuse to let a real obtainable man get that close to me 😆

────────────

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

01. prologue

"no way our tour dates line up." 

you were in disbelief when your boyfriend called late at night to inform you that you would both be in the same city at the same time and that it just so happened to be where his parents lived: vancouver.

you were tucked under your warm, plush duvet with an unnecessary amount of pillows under your head and you groan as you sit up from them, cold air hitting your newly exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in its chilly wake.

"i'm serious dude, the company usually lets me visit my family when we go for canadian stops. i could see if i can stay at my parent's house for longer.. and you could come with me.." mark's voice got higher as he started adding to the equation. "and maybe you can stay.. and meet some people.."

"you're saying you want me to meet your parents?" you reply blankly, holding in a laugh at your boyfriend's shyness about asking. you lean back in your bed, cotton fabric sighing with effort.

"see? that's my girl, i knew you'd get it." your face heats at his words.

"oh dude you're flirting..." you quote him, earning a sound of annoyance from the other end of the call. you snicker.

"you actually have to stop watching those fan compilations." you giggle at how easily it both annoys and embarrasses him that you keep up with what he does at work.

"okay, i'll stop watching fan compilations of you when you delete your folder of edits of me" you offer jokingly through your fit of laughter.

he scoffs "that's out of the question." 

"okay then i guess i get to keep watching videos of you goofing off at work." 

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

02. the twin bed

several months ago, your boyfriend had asked you to meet his parents in person. both of you living in seoul and being music artists meant that trips home were few and far between, so it made sense that mark would ask you to meet his parents in real life once the finally opportunity arose after two years of only seeing them in 2160p on a facetime screen. mark would've asked sooner if he weren't swamped with schedules — between three groups and solo activities, it was near impossible to find any amount of time to fly home, let alone with a secret girlfriend who's schedule was just as packed as his.

both of your tours had already started and you really hadn't seen much of each other since. you were grateful for the large amount of time you had in vancouver: about three nights of time together before you'd each have to take your separate flights to different cities for the rest of your respective tours. you had your show the first night of the three-day stay and his was the night directly after. 

mark had taken a plane with the rest of 127 and you opted to take a completely different flight; it wasn't worth the trouble of having to deal with both of your own saesangs on one flight as well as risking being caught. since mark's plane departed earlier than yours, he arrived at his parent's house much earlier than you, having already unpacked what he needed and started catching up with his folks when you rang the doorbell on the single-family home. as you were marveling at the normalcy of the house, your boyfriend swung the door open, giving you a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"did your staff already leave?" mark asked after surveying the street outside and not finding any cars. you turn and look back over your shoulder quickly even though you know you won't find a car there either.

"yeah, dropped me off and then sped away." you answer as you step inside. mark closes and locks the door behind you. 

"well, after she got out of the passenger seat because i begged her to let me drive-"

"you drove?" your boyfriend cut you off, eyes wide and eyebrows raised so high that his forehead was wrinkled.

"pfft, yeah?" you roll your eyes dramatically.

"i have my license and i'm a big girl. got here in one piece and everything." you reassure the man as he takes your suitcase and carryon from you.

"dude, you have an american drivers license."

"ooookay? it's basically the same! y'all drive on the right side of the road too.." you playfully push mark's shoulder, pouting as you continue.

"i never get to drive in korea. can't drive on the right there." you switch from a playful pout to a curious expression. "where are mother lee and father lee?" you ask, using your favorite nicknames that his parents thought were so endearing and silly. mark chuckles before answering.

"they're at wednesday bible study, so we have some time to unwind before you have to mingle with anyone other than me." mark explains, walking towards to stairs that lead to the second floor of the house. "my room is upstairs. it hasn't been redecorated since i was, like, 13." 

"oh, how fun." you joke, beginning to walk up the stairs with your boyfriend following behind you. "can't wait to see all the.. um.." after a long pause, you stop at the top of the stairs and turn to face him. "i can't finish my insult because i have no clue what little canadian boys like."

mark laughs and you're sure if his hands weren't full he would start hitting you in his fit of laughter like he usually does, but instead he hunches over a little at the joke before directing you to the last door on your right. 

the room is small and littered with old books, cd cases, and cassette tapes, all lined up haphazardly on painted wooden shelves that were much taller than you, the freshest layer of brown paint peeling in worn spots to reveal the previous paint job done in teal. in the left corner, against the flaky yellow wallpaper, sat a red guitar and in the right corner there was a boombox on a shelf above a bed. on the right wall was a crucifix and ivory jesus stared down at the bed below it with its mismatched plaid duvet and sheets and more pillows than any one boy needs, all with different pillowcases on them, one checkered blue, another white with blue stripes, the other two in solid teal and red. it was cozy, but something irked you and it wasn't the carpeted floor or the popcorn ceiling.

"you didn't tell me it was a twin bed?" you exclaim, turning to mark who looked like he'd just seen a ghost. he makes his way past you into the room, speaking as he sets your bags on the beg and sits next to them.

"yo, listen: you can have the bed to yourself and i can have the floor if it makes you feel better" mark offers, trying to soothe you. you're still stood in the doorway, leaning against it now.

"i dont want your funky ass twin bed? id rather sleep on the cold kitchen floor downstairs." you complain, frustrated at the entire situation. "I don't want to sleep without you but also I'm not sure we'll both fit comfortably." you express. your boyfriend looks at you funny. 

"are you serious?" he starts, getting up from the bed and walking towards you, stopping when he's stood just close enough that you have to look up to meet his eye. "there's definitely enough room. we'll just have to cuddle." he explains. you look up at him through long lashes and pout. 

"i'm starting to think the reason you didn't tell me is because you just wanted an excuse to hold me all night." you accuse. mark holds his hands up in a way that says 'you got me.'

"well, usually you complain that i'm too warm and you end up moving away from me after i fall asleep." mark admits with a slight frown, dropping his hands to his side in order to hang his shoulders in an attempt to sulk. he looks so cute when he pouts, large dark eyes shining at you with a hint of an apology for withholding information. you push yourself off of the door frame in favor of draping your arms on mark's shoulders, fingers touching around the back of his neck.

"okay, but you do get super warm and you know i run hot too." you defend yourself. mark pits his hands on either side of your waist and cracks a smirk and you know he's thinking of a terrible joke.

"yeah, super hot." 

"ew, that's so corny." you scrunch up your nose, making a disgusted face and he giggles, leaning in to pepper your cheek with kisses that you can feel the smile in.

"you're making me reconsider my option of sleeping alone." you threaten, but he only wraps his arms around you and holds you tight instead as if to say that there's no way you can back out of it now. you accept defeat.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

03. the concert

mark's parents were just as kind in person as they had been over video call. they just couldn't stop telling you how you were so much prettier in person and how proud they were that mark had found "such a nice young lady." you told them how lovely their home is and thanked them for letting you stay. the meeting was brief since you had to get to your venue for sound check and other preparations, so when your staff arrived to pick you up and whisk you away to your job, you apologized and swore that you would talk more the next day, assuming they probably wouldn't be awake by the time you got back.

sound check was smooth and you enjoyed seeing your fans for the 45 or so minutes it lasted. afterwards, you had your makeup and hair done and put on your first outfit. you made sure to take ample selfies so you could choose what to post after the concert, what to send to bubble now, and what to send to mark since you had down time. 

you: [image]

markus 😒😋: my gorgeous gorgeous girl

you grin at your phone, face heating to the point you start to fan yourself. you giggle at your own incoming joke as you look through your camera roll for a video to send to your boyfriend. the video is a clip his fans like to use of him with a blush filter on his face. (you know the one)

you: [video]

markus 😒😋: yeah ok im blocking you now

you: NOOOOO ☹️ 

markus😒😋: too late. need to start being nicer to your boyfriend

you: but youre so cute when youre annoyed..

markus😒😋: your fans are like really loud by the way

you: ???

markus😒😋: [2 images]

markus😒😋: your number 1 fan

the images mark sends you are one of the stage you're supposed to be on in about an hour and the other is selfie of him, mask hat, and glasses on, in a seat at your venue.

you'd attended each other's concerts before and it certainly wasn't a secret to either of your fans that the two of you knew each other, having done challenges, tiktoks, and other collabs together, but it still would give you butterflies when he would show up to a concert. 

you: 🥹 i told you if you would tell me beforehand that you were coming then you wouldn't have to actually buy tickets

markus 😒😋: its no fun when you know already!!! 

you: next time get floor tickets so i can have eye candy in the crowd

markus 😒😋: yes ma'am 🫡

the concert went super well. you were on time and your mic was loud enough for once and your costume wasn't itchy and your boyfriend was in the crowd. you were sure multistans had already spotted him there and you hoped that he was having a good time and that everyone was leaving him alone.

during the section of the concert where you walk around and sing into a handheld mic and do fan service, you spot a particularly funny sign. the sign, which was decked out in glittery letters and lots of hearts read: "y/n let me get that nda"

you double over in laughter as the back track plays without main vocals before continuing singing, going over to the fanboy holding the sign and taking his phone to record with it. the fan all but faints when you hand his phone back and blow him a kiss. when the song ends you talk for a bit about your tour so far and read other signs, flirting with your fans (as one does) and drinking water to soothe your throat. you don't particularly even think about what you're doing as you interact with the crowd, simply happy to see them smile.

the rest of your concert goes smoothly and you stay for around 30 minutes after everyone clears out in order to help your staff pack equipment and to make sure you didn't forget anything personal at backstage. when you're changed into a hoodie and some sweats and sitting in the passenger seat of your staff's car, you notice mark hasn't texted you, which is weird. mark always texts you after a concert even if you're going back to the same apartment. you assume maybe his phone died when you shoot him a "how was it?" text and he doesn't respond. you're really too exhausted to think of anything else as the road lulls you into a quick nap as you're driven to your boyfriend's parent's house.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

04. jealousy, jealousy 

mark's parents are asleep when you get back to their home, making for a silent house other than the whirring of the air conditioning and the click of you locking the front door. your boyfriend greets you as you walk through said door with a kiss on the cheek. you take in his already scruffy hair and pajama clad legs as well as the loose t-shirt he obviously just threw on.

"did your phone die?" you ask, worried as to why he didn't respond to you.

"yeah" he rubs one of his eyes with the back of his hand "man, um, traffic was crazy, i only just got here and changed."

mark hasn't been this awkward with you since the first few months you started dating. there's obviously something bothering him but you really don't know how to ask, especially when it's so late and you're still tired despite your nap. 

"yeah, i didn't actually drive back so i was able to take a power nap through it." you reply. mark simply hums and turns around, walking to and up the stairs, abruptly deciding he's done with the conversation. you follow him, face twisted in mouth opened, furrowed-brow confusion whenever he had his back to you. mark lingers by the doorway in his room as you pass him to flop down dramatically on the bed, facing the wall, only bothering to kick off your shoes and socks. you don't even notice the click of him locking the door while he turns the lights off before he curls up behind you, chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you slowly. sensually. mark's breath fans on the back of your neck before he plants several slow kisses there, moving until he reaches right below the shell of your ear. all the while, his large, warm hands can't seem to to anything other than wander under your hoodie to caress your waist and stomach. you let out a breathy and quiet chuckle.

"babe, what are you doing?" you ask in a whisper.

"you know you're mine, right?" mark whispers into your ear, completely ignoring the question, yet answering it at the same time.

your skin heats all too quickly. you know exactly what this is. he's jealous. of what, you're really not sure.

your boyfriend continues to kiss around your ear, moving now to your shoulder, each kiss messier and needier than the last. one of his hands moves to cup your breast while the other sits right below your belly button, tantalizingly close to where you can feel your arousal pooling in liquid form. his pinky dips under the waistband of your sweats and stays there as he toys with your nipple, pinching the bud with two fingers, eliciting a soft whine from you to which he hisses.

"have to be quiet, baby. be quiet for me? for me?" he repeats. you breathe out a shaky "ok" as you move your arm behind you in an attempt to feel up your boyfriend, petting his side.

mark snuggles closer and you can feel his erection against your ass as he continues to massage your breast. his other hand finally dives under the waistband of your sweats, middle finger finding your clit oh so easily as he begins to almost pet you, cupping your entire mound and rocking his hands against it, middle finger pressed ever so slightly between the lips and against your bundle of nerves. you try your best to keep your whines down, your once free hand now occupied with covering your mouth. you buck embarrassingly and helplessly against mark's hand.

"desperate, huh? that why you made a show of yourself?" he coos.

you nod. of course it wasn't the truth and you both knew that. you really still weren’t sure what you even did, but your mind was too hazy to do anything except play into his hands, literally and figuratively. 

mark begins to rub circles into your clit, using the friction from your panties to add to the sensation of it. you struggle to stay quiet and when you let a particularly obscene sound slip, your boyfriend groans, pulling away from you.

"sit up, baby." he commands as he gets off the bed and drops to his knees in front of you. he runs his palms up your clothed thighs when you turn to face him.

"take this off for me, princess?" he requests.

you oblige, lifting your hips to discard your sweats, deciding your hoodie is too much and discarding that as well. you don't know when mark removed his shirt, but between him locking the door and getting on his knees, it had been tossed to the opposite corner of the room, bunched up and barely visible from the moonlight filtering through the window. 

mark pushes your legs open and slots himself between them, kissing the inside of your thigh, face oh so close to exactly where you need him. you look down at him in awe. the way his messy brown hair falls into his prettily-pink tinged face and how absolutely drunken on you he looks when his gaze flicks up to you might be enough for you to cum on the spot. you're practically throbbing for him when he finally presses a kiss to your clothed clit. your breath hitches and you let out a soft whimper at the contact.

"you still haven't exactly told me what i did.." you remind mark as his thumbs hook under the hem of your underwear. they linger there for a moment while he answers.

“i think you know."

you lift your hips once again to allow mark and to slip your panties down and toss them somewhere in the room. the air is cool against the heat of your cunt and you fight the urge to close your legs to keep in the warmth.

"so fucking gorgeous." mark mutters before rolling his tongue against your clit. you let out a loud whimper and he shushes you gently but does nothing more to stop you when he licks a fat stripe up your pussy before sucking your clit and coming off with an obscene pop that has you biting into the hand covering your mouth. he returns to it, making slow circles of it with his tongue while he inserts a finger into you, then two, pumping them in and out and curling them at an agonizingly slow place.

you whimper around your hand for a second before taking it slightly away from your mouth.

"i s-seriously don't know— hah— w-what i did, babe." you manage to get out.

mark pulls his face away from your heat, replacing his tongue with his thumb, increasing to a medium pace.

"touched other people. laughed at their jokes. just missed you so bad, princess. wished it was me.” he melts into the side of your thigh, looking up at you as he answers before focusing intently on the way his fingers move against you. the sound of his fingers inside of you fills the room with nasty squelching. his free hand has been rubbing circles into the outside of your thigh this whole time and you attempt to grab it to hold his hand when he finally speeds up a third time, going a pace that you can finally feel your orgasm building with. he swats your hand away.

"think you deserve it?" he asks

"m'sorry." you reply, opting to place the hand on his sheets instead. you can finally feel your release building and your moans get harder and harder to contain behind your hand.

"mark m'gonna cum, please" you plead with him. for what, you're not sure. 

"that's it, good girl." he coos "let it all out, princess." 

his praise is just enough to make you topple over the edge of pleasure, orgasm washing over you in waves as you let out a silent cry. mark finger-fucks you through it, not bothering to stop even when your thighs threaten to crush his head or your foot hits his back, before slowing and then finally pulling his fingers away once your clenching ceases, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick it clean whilst you catch your breath. 

"lay down, if i don't fuck your brains out right now i'm seriously gonna lose it." your eyes widen as you reposition yourself so that you're laying on your back while mark discards his pants and underwear. he crawls over you, holding himself up on one forearm as you start making out, tongues melding against each other. he breaks from the kiss to lean back and put one of your legs over his broad shoulder. he teases you, rubbing the tip of his fat cock against your still-sensitive clit.

"nobody else can do this but me right, princess?" he asks and you can hear his breath hitch as he continues to rock himself against you. you shake your head in response.

"need it so bad mark." you plead with him, tired of the teasing and the empty feeling in your core.

mark lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in slowly, inch by inch, coupled with quiet groans. the stretch is something you're never used to no matter how many times the two of you fuck; the way he fills you is delicious.

he pauses when he's fully inside you, leaning over you, causing the leg on his shoulder to fold back on you. he kisses your neck and jaw and nibbles at your ear he pulls out until just the tip remains and thrusts back into you, causing you to let out a loud combination of a whine and a strangled groan, to which mark quickly covers your mouth with his hand. he starts slow, rocking in and out of you at a leisurely pace. his free hand that isn't muffling your noises rests beside you on the bed so that he doesn't absolutely crush you. mark makes sure not to fuck into you too hard, worried the loud sounds of skin on skin might wake his parents up. 

"think you can cover your own mouth for me?" he asks and you nod.

he pushes himself up so that his chest is no longer flush with yours and his hand is no longer covering your mouth. you hover the back of your hand over your mouth so that your voice is still audible enough for mark to hear, commanding him to go faster. you cover your mouth as he obliges, and he starts letting out soft moans. they're not nearly as loud as yours but they're so sexy that you almost can't help the way you try to roll your hips up into him in response. 

"what would all your fans think?" he says. "folded in half for my cock... all for me." he adds, starting to get lost in the feeling of your pussy pulling him in. he throws his head back and you swear you could cum from the sight right then and there. 

something snaps in mark- maybe its how close he is or how warm you are, but he stops caring about the noise and starts making pointed thrusts into you, hitting that sweet spot in you that makes your eyes roll and your back arch off the bed. the sound of his skin on yours is loud and if you weren't so fucked out then maybe you'd care, but your brain is fuzzy and your skin is tingly and the only thing you can think about is how impossibly tight the coil in your stomach is. your hand isn't enough to muffle anything anymore, your fingers keep curling and you're squirming so much that it's hard to contain any sounds you make. mark seems to have forgotten where he is because he just starts praising you like you're alone in his apartment.

"so fucking gorgeous. gonna cum, princess? yeah?" he coos.

through babbles and broken groans you manage to get out a broken "please." his thumb finds your clit and he rubs it in rough circles and you swear you're on fire. your orgasm crashes into you like a crack of lightning and you open your mouth to let out a silent scream. you squirm and kick and mark holds your hips down to fuck you through it, chasing his own orgasm all the while. he cums not too long after you with a chant of your name and a broken, choked moan as he fills you up with ropes of hot seed. your chest heaves and you honestly forget that you even exist until mark's words bring you back.

"you don't think we woke them up, right?"

────────────

A/N ┇OH GOD!!! im actually really scared i hope this isnt as bad as it seems to me i think i just dont like it because im the one who wrote it. i got a bit out of character for mark but like also who knows what hes like during sex. you dont know. i dont know. AHH! um i hope you 🫵 enjoyed it. take a shot every time i said the word you in this fanfic.

I got distracted while editing this because I had nct mvs playing in the background and 90s love came on… winwin I miss you

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Hello! I'm Anon who requested the Spiderman!Anakin Headcannons. I was wondering if you could make a fanfic about him? 👉👈(Because ever since I read those headcannons he lives rent-free in my mind.)

Only if you feel comfortable and if you have the time, of course.

Bye~

PAIRING: nerd!spiderman!anakin x reader

City you lived in buzzed faintly in the distance as you made your way home after work, the cool night air nipping at your soft skin. The streets were quiet—eerily so—except for the occasional sound of a car rushing by or a distant siren wailing. You tried to ignore the tingling in your gut, the sense that something—or someone—was watching. Closely. Intensely. Purposely

You turned a corner, faint light from a streetlamp casting long shadows along the brick walls, and that was the moment you heard it.

“Shouldn’t a pretty thing like you be home by now?”

The voice was playful, dripping with charm and laced with a grin you could almost feel. You stopped in your tracks, glancing around, heartbeat quickening.

“Up here.”

Your gaze snapped up, and there he was, of course. Your favorite, friendly neighbor Spider-Man. Hanging upside down from a fire escape, his body silhouetted against the dark sky, one hand gripping his web while the other hung loosely at his side.

“Late-night strolls can be dangerous,” he teased, the lenses of his mask tilting slightly as if he was narrowing his eyes. “Lucky for you, I’m here to save the day—or, you know, just say hi.”

“But you really should stop making this a habit,” he continued when you didn't say anything, too stunned to speak much when his tone was turning to more of a teasing one yet with softer undertones than usual. Like he was genuinely, really concerned.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I’m fine. It’s not like you aren’t always watching anyway.”

“True,” he admitted, tilting his head so casually. “Guess that makes me your personal guardian angel.”

His voice dipped lower, almost to a purr, to which you swallowed hard. Your heart beat a little too fast in your chest as he hung there, relaxed and so completely at ease.

“You really think you’re that charming?” you muttered, trying to keep the voice steady.

He didn’t answer right away, but you saw his hand flex on the web he was clinging to, grip tightening as if he were holding back. “You tell me,” he said, words slowly leaving his mouth.

You took a step closer, the space between you shrinking until you could see the faint outline of his lips beneath the mask. The memories of the last time he saved you—of the way he looked at you, spoke to you, even with the mask on—flooded your mind back, making your cheeks burn. This is what you meant by saying you have a weird relationship with spiderman. All the teasing, bickering back and forth, his appearance when you don't need him, his flirtation, even made you think a lot of thoughts..

“God, you never shut up,” you muttered, and before you could lose your nerve, you reached up and tugged down the edge of his mask.

His lips were soft—warm, inviting, pretty—and you leaned in, pressing your own lips to his before he could say or do anything. It wasn’t hesitant or shy. It was bold, almost desperate, and you felt the way his breath caught in his throat as he froze for half a second before he actually kissed you back.

The world around you melted away as his lips moved against yours, slow and gentle, like he wanted to memorize the taste of you. The gloved hand brushed against your jaw, or tried to from his position, and you felt his thumb stroke your skin, sending more sparks down your spine.

When you finally pulled back, his breathing was much heavier, and you could feel the sudden warmth radiating off him even from inches away.

“You’re full of surprises,” he murmured, voice lower, raspier, lips swollen from the kiss

“Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.”

He huffed a soft laugh, but there was no denying the way his gaze lingered on you, body tense as if he was holding himself back.

“G-get home safe,” he called, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving you standing there, breathless and trembling, taste of him still lingering on your lips.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @nikiloveshayden

[satorusugurugurl]

I hope this does not give too much pressure, but I have a request? I LOVED LOVED the fanfic about satosugu and reader with them being very, very rough after a tough work project/trip. Then I thought about it being a angsty?? Love a good angst

This is your account so it’s completely up to you to write or not!! I was thinking that after a while SatoSugu have another rough week. When the come back, the don’t immediately take it out through sex. Instead, they just bottle it up. Reader tries to comfort them about it but they ignore her or act snappy. Reader isn’t a pushover, but she is very understanding and patient. She lets them be mean, (it still hurt though) and just stays calm. She also had her own rough week while they were gone, but she doesn’t really show it. When they come back angry, she was hoping to forget her pain with them, but she only got their cold shoulder and words.

The next day when she comes home from another rough workday, she notices that they seemed to still be angry and agitated from their work trip. They suggest she take the next two days off, and she immediately knew what was coming. (Full consent given from her) She was feeling sensitive from her own turmoil/stress and the duo’s coldness, but she didn’t think too much of it.

While the roughness did feel good at first, it slowly became too much. They were too rough, far too rough. Their harsh words hurt. Their harsh hands hurt. The rope/ribbon hurt. Everything hurt, but was she overreacting? She was scared of disappointing them and ruining the mood I guess. She tried to look alright, but her cries slowly let out from the pain and emotional hurt.

They noticed it… Reader apologizes, but the duo is like, “Um no why are YOU sorry? This is on US.” SatoSugu realize their mistake and take care her mwah!! It was just a small dump, I’m so so sorry! As much as I LOVE writing, I’ll never be too confident enough to put this out. Even if I were to, writing styles will always be different. (Plus, I love the way other people write, just like yours!!)

Sorry it’s so so long!

- Moni Anon (first time requesting… kind of shy)

Shock

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, FAB!Reader

Pairing: SatoSugu X FAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,659

Warnings: Blood, death, shock, nightmares, PTSD, rough sex, choking, riding crop, shibari, degradation, emotional breakdown, crying, aftercare

A/N: I loved this request! Angst is like some of my favorite stuff to write! 🥲 I love a good sad story.

Part One

The morgue was cold. But it wasn't as cold as your hands. You stood at the sink, scrubbing at them with soap and water. You hadn't realized the hot water had been running so long; it had turned icy cold. But you had to keep scrubbing them because you could still feel the tacky blood coating them.

Their blood, their blood that was hot and flowed through your fingers when you tried to stop the bleeding. Blood that stained your clothes. The blood is quite literally on your hands.

You tried, tried so damn hard to save the assistant supervisor who was with you on your mission. The information the higher-ups had given you was wrong. The curse you had exorcized wasn't the only one lingering in the building. There had been two, and after the first was taken care of, you and the assistant supervisor were headed out. The second curse attacked. Slicing at you, you had barely managed to dodge it. Getting cut on the cheek. The young woman, however, had her blood splattered on the concrete.

After the other spirit was dealt with, you rushed to her side. She cried as you tried to tell her she would be okay as you called for Ijichi. But the cut was too deep; she lost too much blood, and you watched the light fade from her eyes. Leaving you alone, stained with her blood.

Your mind snapped out of the bloody memory as someone turned the water off. They gently grabbed your hands, drying them off, pulling you out of the trance you were in. Shoko eyes you before gently leading you to the chairs lining the walls, ushering you to sit down. Reluctantly, you listened, plopping down and looking at your hands.

“I'm going to call Satoru and Suguru to tell them what's happened.”

Your head jerked up, “N-No, don't do that. I’m fine!” Shoko shook her head, leaning against the wall. “Shoko, please, really, I’m fine, I swear.”

“Y/N, I left ten minutes ago. You were washing your hands then, and I found you still washing them? You're in shock; I can't let you leave like this.”

“Please, I don't want to bother them. They just got back from a rough mission.”

“And you didn't?”

Your friend's words were searing into you like hot needles. She was right in a sense; you had just gotten back from a rough mission, but so had your boyfriends. They were gone for a week. Having to travel overseas to deal with several grade-one curses. The two of them handled it, taking down the curse users with them. But when they got home this morning, they headed to the room jet lagged and annoyed over each other, claiming they needed space and sleep.

If Shoko called them, they would be more irritable. You wanted them to get as much rest as they could. They worked their asses off. You being in shock was a minimal issue to involve them in. You would be okay—eventually.

“Y/N, I’m not comfortable letting you go home alone,” Shoko repeated, sitting on one of the chairs beside you.

“Okay, what about Yaga or Nanami then?”

You were so thankful that Shoko agreed with your proposition that Ijichi drove you and Nanami back to your house. Nanami was quiet the whole time, stealing the occasional glance at you, watching as you stared at your hands. It wasn't until Ijichi parked in front of your house that Nanami cleared his throat, catching your attention.

“I think you need to take a couple of days off.” His glasses gleamed. “I'm going to talk to Yaga about it. You're in no state to work right now. You need time to process what happened.”

Swallowing hard, you opened the door to the car. “I appreciate your concern, Nanami, but I’ll be okay.” You attempted to give him your best smile. “I got this.” The look on your friend's face screamed that he knew you were lying.

“Regardless of your ploy to fool me or downplay how much you're hurting, I will still talk to Principal Yaga.”

“And I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks again, Nanami.”

You waved the car off before rubbing Your still-freezing hands together. Things would be better once you got inside. Satoru and Suguru were back, and you could relax, forget about work, and just be together.

As you approached the door, Satoru came out, black sunglasses on as he shut the door. “Oh, hi Satoru, welcome home!” You put on your best smile, approaching him.

“Hi, I'm heading out.” His tone was sharp and as cold as your hands.

“You’re not staying here?”

He pulled his sunglasses down, revealing his blue eyes. “No, I need to get out. Suguru is driving me insane. I’m going shopping.” He waved you off as if dismissing you.

“Oh, well, if you give me a few minutes, I could go with you?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way.” He kept walking, not even looking back at you. “I don’t wanna be around either of you right now.”

Ouch, that stung. But you just gave him a weak smile before heading inside. “Be safe.”

Alright, so Satoru needed some space, but Suguru might be in a better mood. Heading towards his room, you knocked and waited for him to respond. Only he didn’t. Your stomach twisted in knots as you hit again, a little harder this time.

A loud groan sounded behind the door before you listened to the floorboards creaking. The door flung open, and Suguru cocked an eyebrow as he eyed you. He looked exhausted and pissy, but he didn’t say anything as he glared at you.

“W-Welcome home.”

“Mhm.”

“Uhm, Satoru left. Do you wanna watch a movie or get something to eat?”

Suguru shook his head, dark streams of hair falling in his face. “No.” Your cold fingers twitched as you took a deep breath. Just as you opened your mouth, Suguru sighed, jabbing his thumb against the center of his forehead. “Y/N, please, I don’t have the patience or energy to entertain you. Please go away.” The door slammed in your face, leaving you staring at the wood grain in stunned silence.

Okay, well, that was unexpected. When the boys came back from a mission like this, you all usually had sex, taking the aggression out in the rawest way you could. This cold shoulder attitude was something new. Alien and strange, making my stomach ache.

After last week and especially today, you hoped to spend time with them. Snuggling them, forgetting about the horrors you had witnessed. Instead, you have a door in your face.

Nothing you could say or do to change their minds and attitudes. Everyone dealt with anger, stress, and exhaustion in their ways. Theirs happened to be wanting to spend time by themselves. Which was perfectly fine, but they could have at least been a bit nicer about it.

You spent the entirety of your night in your room after a hot shower. You lay there hugging your pillow as you stared blankly at the wall. Every time you started to doze off, you would see blood splattering the floor, hear wheezed, gurgled breathing, and see the light fade from that poor girl's eyes. You hardly slept at all, restlessly tossing and turning.

You were relieved when your alarm went off, ushering you to start your day. You got ready, and not once did you see your partners. Both doors to their rooms shut. Neither one came out to see you off, making your stomach turn.

At work, you put on a smile, trying to joke with the first and second years, but everyone could see your fragile state. From the dark circles under your eyes to how you disassociated during training. So you weren’t surprised when Principal Yaga came into your classroom and told you that you would be taking the next week off.

“You need to focus on recovering. If you need more time, call me.”

His words hummed in your ears all the way home. How pathetic were you? Allowing a young girl to be killed. A mandatory week off of work, and on top of all that, your partners were pissy and avoiding you. This, indeed, was one of the lowest two days of your life. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt this lowly, lost in the dark.

“I’m home.” You announced as you entered the house. Not expecting a response since both of them weren’t up when you left.

“Y/N,” Satoru said as you felt him press against your back. “Need you to do us a favor.”

Your body tensed as a blindfold was placed over your eyes. “You’ll need to call out of work for the next few days,” Suguru added as hands groped your breasts.

“Yeah, not a problem.”

They needed this, and if it would mean they felt better, that you could focus on pleasure, you’d gladly do what they wanted. And what they wanted was rough carnal sex. The type of sex that hard blue ropes digging into your wrists, bound behind your back. Intricate shibari dug into your chest, your breasts being squeezed. Everything felt so good, but it was so tight it almost hurt.

Your mouth was wrapped around Satoru’s cock. He was fucking your throat, yanking your hair painfully as he moaned as Suguru fucked you from behind. With every other thrust, Suguru slapped the leather riding crop over your ass. Your cries around Satoru’s cock had them both groaning.

“What a fuckin’ slut.” Satoru whined out, thrusting deeper down your throat, making you gag.

Suguru smacked the crop harder against you. “A dirty fuckin’ slut.” Another smack, followed by another, and it just kept going and going.

You cried around Gojo harder as Suguru continued his whipping behind you. “M-Mmm!”

“Mmm~?” Satoru mocked you. “Fuckin’ pathetic.” His cock hit the back of your throat painfully. Making your tears stain the blindfold as Suguru’s pace picked up.

“Pathetic whiny bitch in heat.” The crop hit your other cheek. “Absolutely pathetic”

You weren’t sure what hurt more. The crop and their cold, harsh words. They were never this mean. Calling you pathetic hurts because that’s who you saw yourself for the last few days. The ropes began to sting like your eyes; more tears stained the blindfold. You could handle this; they should be done soon; they needed this.

You couldn’t save that girl; the least you could do was help your boyfriends feel better.

“Pathetic worthless girl~ all you’re good for is this.” Gojo yanked your hair, and you saw splatters of blood. You were worthless at that moment.

A sharp sting from the riding crop. “Yeah, a good-for-nothing slut. All you’re good for is being our personal cock sleeve.” Good for nothing, yeah, you just let that girl die.

“Fucking stupid bitch.” The dark-haired man watched as Satoru’s face scrunched up in pleasure. “You're going to make him cum.” Long fingers trailed under the twisted ropes, yanking them hard. “That’s all you’re good for bitch.”

The ropes burned, digging into your flesh. Slicing into you like—like the girl you let die.

Suguru was the first to notice something was wrong. Your hands were pale. They trembled along with the rest of your body. He tossed the riding crop to the side, his dark eyes focusing on his white-haired boyfriend, who was still in utter bliss.

“Satoru.” His voice wasn’t filled with the same heated lust from before, and you noticed. “Stop, pull out.”

Satoru was about to complain, but as he peered at Suguru with half-lidded eyes, he knew he was serious. He listened to both of them pulling out of your mouth and pussy, watching as you coughed and gagged before those gags turned into wretched sobs. You curled in on yourself, sobbing louder. Images of blood, the morgue table, and blood spinning down a sink flashed through your mind.

The boys jumped into action instantly. They removed the blindfold and the bindings around you, allowing you to curl into a fetal position. They watched your trembling body before looking at each other, mentally asking the other what they should do. But it was you who spoke first.

“I-I’m sorry!” A broken cry sounded from the back of your throat.

Satoru gently pulled you into his arms, leaning against the bed's headboard. You sobbed into his chest while Suguru gently rubbed your back. Both of them were silent as you cried two days’ worth of pain out. Guilt seeped into the muscles and none of your body, for the assistant supervisor, for ruining the mood, for being so weak.

“Don’t. Please don’t apologize,” Suguru whispered, leaning down and kissing your cheek. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“This is on us. We went way too far.” Satoru added his hands, gently massaging your shoulders.

You babbled into his chest as your other hand grabbed Suguru��s, holding it tight. “I-I messed up this week! And now this!” You could feel both of their muscles tensing at your words.

“What do you—”

“Mean you messed up?”

The events of yesterday spewed out of you like a water fountain. You sobbed, going over the details while both men gently caressed and listened to you in silence. The moment you finished spilling out your guts, Satoru and Suguru shared a look.

“And I didn’t make it any better.” You sniffled, looking up at Satoru. Ivory cheeks were flushed as he ran his hand through his hair. “Telling you I didn’t want to be near you.”

Suguru let out a cold, harsh chuckle. “I wasn’t any better. I told Y/N I didn’t have the time nor the patience to entertain her.” You hummed, relaxing against the duo, feeling more calm than you had in the last twenty-four hours.

“Then we were too rough. I feel like a total dick

“Same here,” Suguru planted a kiss on your shoulder, his hand gently rubbing your arm. “What can we do to make it up to you?”

“I’m honestly so tired. I just want to snuggle in bed.”

Your request wasn’t ignored. They both got up; Suguru changed the sheets and picked up Satoru’s room. While you stood under the hot water in the shower, Satoru gently washed your hair. Long fingers massaging your scalp before the curtain opened and Suguru stepped in behind you. Their hands gently slid over your slicked skin. Washing, massaging, and worshiping you.

Their sweet caresses made your eyes heavier as the tense, sore muscles relaxed. While you longed to take care of their needs most of the time. Being held like this, sandwiched between the two strongest sorcerers in the world, made you feel safer. With them at your side, you knee deep down in your gut that everything would be okay.

After the most relaxing shower you’d ever taken was over, you slid on your pajamas before crawling into bed, collapsing into the plush mattress and expensive Egyptian silk sheets. Satoru crawled in with you as Suguru pulled you to rest on his chest while Satoru spooned you. Their hands were so soft and gentle. Their fingers and warm palms were like your own personal lullaby.

“Shh,” Suguru hushed, “we got you.”

Satoru nodded against your shoulder and the crook of your neck. “You can rest. If you have a nightmare, we’ll be beside you.” Satoru grabbed one hand as Suguru grabbed the other.

“Rest.”

The warmth of their hands in yours had your cold hands finally returning to normal. Sometimes, days could be terrible. Making you question everything you do. You were happy to know your boyfriends would be there to help bring some of the light back into your life. That was something you would firmly be able to stand by and defend, especially when their arms were wrapped so tightly around you.

[candycandy00]

My Sweet Pet - A Togame x Reader Fanfic

Togame ends up with a pet hybrid cat girl he never wanted. 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Hybrid AU. Togame is aged up (mid 20’s). Oral sex. First time sex. Reader has a prominent scar. Divider by @benkeibear! Any and all feedback is very appreciated!

Togame never wanted a hybrid pet. He’d seen the poor little things trailing along behind their owners, looking pitiful. He knew what they were used for, and just because they were literally created to be living sex toys, it didn’t make the situation feel any less gross. 

They were built a little smaller than normal adult human women, sporting cute ears and tails. He supposed he could see the appeal, but the idea of buying a woman just seemed wrong to him. 

Tonight as he’s walking home from the Ori, hands in the pockets of his Shishitoren jacket, he hears a small commotion coming from an alley. He stops and glances in the direction of the noise, blanching when he realizes the alley is right beside a hybrid Pet Shop. 

In the dim evening light, he sees a large man dragging a small woman with cat ears toward a van. She’s screaming, fighting with all her might to pull her little arm out of his grasp. Togame sighs. He knows how things work at these “shops”. He shouldn’t be shocked, and he shouldn’t get involved. But just then she looks up at him, and their eyes meet. 

“Please help me!” she cries, her pleading eyes full of tears. 

Fuck. How is he supposed to ignore this?

He walks over and grabs the man’s shoulder. “Hey. You’re hurting the lady. Could you ease up?”

The man turns to look at Togame, still tightly gripping the woman’s arm. He’s a big guy, a couple inches taller than even Togame’s considerable height, and bulky with a combination of fat and muscle. “Fuck off! This is none of your business!”

“Well, see, she asked for my help,” Togame says slowly with a casual tone. “That kinda makes it my business now.”

The man releases the woman so that he can focus on Togame. He draws back, raising his fist as he shouts, “I told you to fuck off!”

When the fist swings down, Togame catches it in midair, twists it while gripping the man’s forearm, and then uses it to throw the man to the ground. “And I told you to ease up,” he says, not even breaking a sweat. 

The woman with cat ears scurries over to Togame, hiding behind him as another man walks out of the shop and down the alley. 

“What the hell is going on?” the new arrival asks, looking from the man groaning on the ground to Togame. 

Togame feels the woman clutch his arm. Her hands are shaking. “I didn’t realize shops were so rough with hybrid women,” he says. 

The new man exhales. “We usually aren’t, but she’s a special case.”

Togame glances down at her. She looks up at him with those glistening, teary eyes. “Special how?” he asks, curious now. 

The man, who at least seems calmer and more reasonable than the one on the ground, gives the woman a pitying look. “We can’t sell her. She has an ugly scar on her body that makes her… undesirable.”

The woman seems to shrink at the words, looking at the ground as if in shame. 

The man goes on. “We tried to sell her, but no one wants her. I can’t keep feeding her forever, so I decided to put her down. That’s where we’re taking her.”

Togame feels disgust swirling in the pit of his stomach. They’re going to kill this woman because no one wants to fuck her? He never imagined things were this bad for hybrids. He looks down at her again, at her tear streaked face, her small, trembling hands clinging to his arm. 

Fuck. He never wanted a hybrid, never wanted anything to do with them. But he can’t just walk away from this. 

“How much is she?”

The man looks surprised. “You want her?”

Togame sighs again. “Just tell me the price.”

The man stares at the two of them, then shrugs. “If you’re willing to take her, you can have her for free. I’d have to pay to put her down anyway.”

“Guess I’ll take her then,” Togame says, looking down at his new pet again. 

She suddenly releases his arm and slips around in front of him, wrapping her arms around his torso in a soft but tight hug. 

Togame’s face turns pink. “Huh? What are you doing?”

Without answering, she breaks the hug, reaches down and takes hold of his hand, then pulls it to her mouth. He’s too confused to pull away before she opens her mouth and bites him. It’s not a hard bite, barely breaking the skin, but it does surprise him enough to make him jerk his hand out of her grasp. 

She looks up at him, a disappointed expression on her face. Togame looks from her to the shop owner. “Uh, is it normal for her to bite?”

The owner chuckles. “You don’t know anything about hybrids, do you? She just imprinted on you.”

Togame examines the faint teeth marks on his hand. “What does that mean?”

The owner shakes his head. “I don’t have time to explain everything. Look it up online.” Then he turns and walks back toward the entrance of the store.

Togame looks at his pet. “Are you gonna explain?”

She shakes her head, looking at the ground shyly, her face flushed with embarrassment. He hasn’t heard her speak since she asked for help. If not for that, he’d think she’s mute. Maybe hybrids just don’t talk much. 

“Guess I’ll just Google it,” he says, then he starts to walk out of the alley. “Come on, I’ll take you to my place for now.”

She follows after him, and for the first time he notices her tail, swishing excitedly behind her, the same color as her ears and hair. 

“I’m Togame, by the way. Togame Jo,” he tells her. She nods, but doesn’t offer her name. Does she even have one? Is he supposed to name her?

As they walk down the street, Togame pulls out his phone and begins reading about hybrids and what “imprinting” means. 

“Hybrids typically imprint on their owners within three to five days after being purchased,” one website says. “Once a hybrid imprints on someone, they feel an emotion much like intense romantic love for that person. They also feel extreme sexual arousal while in the presence of the human they imprinted upon.”

Togame stops reading and glances to the side, where the woman is walking next to him. She’s staring at him with glassy eyes, her lips parted, a blush on her cheeks. Holy shit, is she turned on right now? He feels his own face getting warm under her lusty gaze, not sure how to deal with this situation. 

Looking back at his phone, he continues silently reading about imprinting. 

“To complete the imprinting process, the human owner must bite the hybrid in return. Until then, the hybrid will feel uneasy and insecure. Some owners intentionally refuse to complete the process to keep their pet in this state, desperate to earn their owner’s love.”

That sounds cruel, but Togame isn’t sure he wants to complete the process. He tries looking up how to break the imprinting, but all the sources he finds suggest that is a very bad idea and would cause psychological harm to the hybrid. Ah well, he can decide a little later, after doing more research. 

There’s something else he reads about the care of hybrids: “Since they are genetically engineered to please their owners sexually, most hybrids use sexuality to communicate their feelings. Rejecting their advances will make them feel that you are rejecting their feelings.”

He shoves his phone into his pocket, wondering again how he’s going to navigate such a troublesome situation. 

**************************

You follow your first ever owner home, eager to find out where you’ll be living from now on. Just minutes ago, you were about to be killed. Even before that, you had resigned yourself to never being bought and spending the rest of your life in a tiny cage. Though the idea of being owned by a stranger, forced to do whatever he wants, was terrifying, a lifetime in the cage was even scarier. 

But now you can’t believe your luck. Not only were you finally bought, escaping death in the process, but your owner is kind! He saved you when he could have simply ignored you. On top of that, he’s incredibly handsome. 

You watch his tall figure walking beside you, a little bit further ahead. With his long legs, he could easily leave you behind without even noticing, but he’s considerate enough to keep pace with you. 

It’s no exaggeration to say you’ve never seen a human man so beautiful. You really didn’t even have to imprint on him to fall in love and be attracted to him, but the urge had been so strong in that moment, you couldn’t resist. You want nothing more than for him to complete the process. 

There’s just one thing worrying you. He hasn’t seen your scar. He was told about it, but that’s not the same as seeing it for himself. Maybe you can keep most of your clothes on, even when pleasing him, at least until he completes the imprinting. 

The two of you arrive at a tall building and climb stairs to reach the third floor. You haven’t been out in the city since you were a kitten, when they took groups of you out to learn about the outside world. But you remember buildings like these, called apartments. 

He stops in front of one of the doors, unlocks it, and steps in, motioning for you to follow. With a bit of excitement and a bit of anxiety, you go inside. 

The apartment is small, but cozy. He shows you around, giving you the very brief tour of the living room, tiny kitchen, bathroom, and single bedroom. 

“It’s not much,” he says. 

“It’s bigger than my cage,” you tell him. He looks surprised to hear your voice. You’ve always been quiet, not liking to talk much to people you don’t know. But this is your owner. You’re going to know each other intimately. 

The thought has you squeezing your thighs together. From the moment you bit him and began the imprint, you’ve felt a burning desire for him. It started out fairly weak, but has grown in intensity with each passing moment. Right now, you want to feel his big, strong hands on you, to have him climb on top of you. But you’re too shy to initiate anything. You’ve never had an owner before, so your knowledge of sex comes only from the videos they had you and the others watch. You didn’t realize arousal could be so powerful. 

You really hope he wants to enjoy his new pet tonight. 

When he shows you the bathroom, he awkwardly rubs the back of his head, messing up his wavy black hair. “You can take a shower if you want.”

Oh! Maybe he wants you to be nice and clean before he touches you. “Thanks,” you say, stepping over to the shower and looking at his bottles of shampoo and soap. 

“I’ll find something for you to wear while I wash your clothes,” he says before leaving the room. When he returns, he’s carrying a few towels and a folded shirt. “You can wear one of my tshirts for now. I know it’s too big but we’ll buy something for you tomorrow.”

You take the bundle of items into your arms, thanking him again. He shows you how the knobs work and then steps out, shutting the door behind him. 

After waiting a few seconds to make sure he’s not coming back in, you strip off your clothes and turn the hot water on. After climbing in, you realize the water isn’t hitting your head. You look up to see that the shower is angled too high, pointing at the wall. Oh. It’s because Togame is so tall, over a foot taller than you. 

You reach up to change the angle, but the sprayer is out of your reach. You try jumping, but you still can’t touch it. That’s when you notice the small plastic stool in the corner with soap sitting on it. You move the bottles, position the stool beneath the shower head, and carefully climb up.  

***************************

Togame is sitting in his small living room, drinking a bottle of soda as he flips through the channels on his tv. His mind is elsewhere though, still trying to figure out what he’s going to do with the woman in his shower. 

He needs to look online for the safest, kindest way to release a hybrid pet. Are there shelters for them? Places that take care of them? Above all, he doesn’t want her to end up handed over to some perverted asshole who would do unspeakable things to her. 

Of course he’s noticed that she’s attractive. He’s human after all, and she was biologically designed to be sexually appealing. He sighs again, turning the tv off. 

Just then he hears a shriek coming from the bathroom, followed by a crashing thump. He jumps up and runs to the bathroom door, banging on it as he calls out, “Are you okay?!”

When no answer comes, he flings the door open. If she’s fallen and hurt herself, she might be unconscious! He hurries to the shower and jerks the thin curtain back, only to find his new pet on her back on the floor of the shower, wet, stark naked, and sprawled out. She’s groaning and holding a hand to her head. 

He quickly averts his eyes. “Uh, are you hurt?”

She apparently notices him then, as she rolls over to her side, her back to him, and curls in on herself. “Don’t look!” she cries, her voice even more desperate than when she asked for his help. “Please don’t look!”

He tries not to, but he can’t help seeing the way she’s curled up, shaking under the water. He turns his back to her. “I’m not looking! I just heard you fall and was afraid you got hurt.”

“Don’t look, don’t look,” she’s muttering, then finally says, “Don’t look at my scar!”

Oh. The scar. He saw it of course. It was hard not to. A very large, prominent burn scar stretched from the front of her stomach to her right hip. 

He peels off his jacket and turns to face her, quickly draping the jacket over her trembling form. He could deny seeing it, but he feels like that would only let her anxiety about it build. He remembers what the shop owner told him, that no one had bought her because of the scar. That must have made her feel terrible 

“It’s okay,” he says as she looks up at him, her hands pulling the jacket tighter around herself. “I already saw it, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Her eyes widen. “No! It’s ugly! Please don’t take me back! I’ll keep it hidden!”

Togame squats down to her level, looking her in the eyes. “It’s not ugly. It just shows that something terrible happened to you and you were strong enough to survive it. That’s beautiful.”

Tears fill her eyes, and suddenly she hugs him again. He pats her head, not sure how else to react to his affectionate little pet. 

Eventually she disentangles herself, and he stands back up before helping her to her feet. “I’ll go back out until you’re finished,” he tells her, then goes back to the living room. 

When she emerges later, she’s wearing a white T-shirt of his that dwarfs her small frame. The collar is practically slipping off one shoulder, and it occurs to him that she had no underwear to change into, so there’s nothing beneath the baggy shirt. He tries to avoid thinking too much about it as he collects her dirty laundry and puts it in the small washer that stands outside the bathroom. 

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” he asks as he walks back into the living room. She’s sitting on the floor, on a cushion, her plump, bare legs curved up beside her. 

“Not hungry,” she says. “A little thirsty.”

He walks over to the fridge. In this tiny apartment, the living room and kitchen are practically one room. “Do you like ramune? I have water too.”

“What’s ramune?”

He looks up sharply. “You’ve never tried ramune?”

She shakes her head. 

He pulls a strawberry flavored one from the fridge and opens it for her. “Here, try it,” he says, reaching her the frosty glass bottle. 

She takes it, examining it closely. She even sniffs it. “Why are there bubbles in it?”

Togame grins. “Just try it. Trust me, it’s good.”

She lifts the bottle to her lips and takes a small sip. Then quickly takes another. She looks up at him with shining eyes. “This is delicious!”

He laughs. “See? I told you so! I have other flavors you can try too.”

At that moment, she smiles for the first time, bright as the sun. Togame feels his heart skip a beat as she happily drinks the soda. 

Afterwards, they’re both sitting on the floor, drinks finished, her hair nearly dry, when she crawls closer to him. She’s blushing, her eyes slightly glazed as she says, “Thank you for saving me, Master.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Togame says, giving her an uneasy smile. “Just Jo is fine.”

“Jo,” she says, as if testing how the name feels on her tongue. “Jo,” she says again, almost a purr, making him turn slightly red. “Will you complete the imprinting? Please?” She’s so close now, she’s practically in his lap, on her hands and knees. The oversized collar of his shirt is draping down, and he can see her soft tits through the gap, making him hyper aware of how little there is between him and her naked body. 

He swallows. “Uh, I need to think about it.”

She looks up at him with those big, adoring eyes. “Don’t you like me?”

He wants to look away from her, but he can’t pry his eyes away. “It’s not about whether I like you or not. I just…”

His voice trails off as she leans forward, nuzzling his abdomen with her face, slowly moving down. “Can I try to please you, Jo?”

The way she says his name, with such reverence, is making him feel heated. Her face moves lower, now brushing over his crotch. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, using all the willpower he has. 

She looks up into his eyes. “But I want to! I want to please you more than anything!”

His heart is beating faster. “That’s just because you imprinted on me, right?”

She shakes her head, and her face grazes over his rapidly hardening cock. “I imprinted on you because I feel this way. Not the other way around. So please?”

Ah, fuck. How is he supposed to resist a sexy little hybrid nestled between his legs, begging to suck him off? He doesn’t want to take advantage of her, but if what he read online was true, rejecting her might actually hurt her psychologically. 

Fuck it. 

“If you really want to, go ahead,” he says. 

Her eyes light up. “Thank you!” she says, as if he gave her a present. Then her warm little hands are tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling it down to reveal his erection. She blinks. “It’s already hard. And it’s so big!”

Togame looks away awkwardly. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“It’s beautiful,” she says, wrapping her fingers around it as much as she can. “Like you.”

His face is getting hot. He’s never been called beautiful before, and it’s a strange feeling. Between his thighs, his pet extends her tongue and licks the tip of his cock. She lets her spit coat him as she keeps licking, running her tongue along his length for a few moments before taking half his cock into her hot mouth. Can she even fit any more than that? 

He can feel her throat, and then it seems to open up as she relaxes it and pushes him in deeper. Oh shit, he’s going down her tight little throat! She’s gagging around him, but keeping her composure, using her tongue to swirl around him. 

“Have you done this before?” he asks, remembering that he’s her first owner. 

She pulls away and looks up at him. “No, but they showed us videos so we would know what to do.”

As she takes him back down her throat, he groans and says, “You must have paid attention.”

Her mouth feels incredible, far better than any other blowjob he’s ever had. Then he remembers something else he read online, something he mostly skimmed over at the time. Hybrids’ entire bodies are designed to give maximum pleasure to their owners. Even their saliva has something in it to increase pleasure, and… their saliva also acts as a powerful aphrodisiac. 

Togame watches her suck his cock, his own arousal growing even stronger than he ever thought possible. Fuck, he’s gonna lose control here! 

He holds out as long as he can, even closing his eyes to block out the sight of her pretty face stuffed full of him. But that only emphasizes the wet, slurpy sounds she’s making, the little “mmm”’s of pleasure from her. But eventually, he can hold back no longer. He groans loudly as his hand flies to her hair, holding her head steady as he cums down her throat. 

She swallows it all gratefully, and when finished she pulls away for a moment before she begins to diligently clean his cock with her tongue. 

Togame stops her, taking hold of her arm, pulling her up and into his lap, so that she’s straddling him. His hands move to her hips, then slide up beneath the T-shirt. 

She grabs the hem of the shirt and pulls it down, looking panicked and shy. “M-my scar…”

“I told you, it’s beautiful,” he says, edging the shirt back up slowly. “Don’t hide something so special from me.”

She releases the shirt, letting him pull it up and over her head, leaving her totally bare in his lap. Whatever was in her saliva to get him turned on was strong stuff. He’s hard as a rock again already, and he feels an intense hunger for her like nothing he’s ever known before. 

He moves one hand down, slipping it between her plush, slightly spread thighs. She gasps as his fingers rub up and down her slit, feeling how wet and slick she is. She’s breathing hard and fast, her shaky hands on his shoulders. As he presses one finger in to stroke her tender, swollen clit, he says, “If I don’t fuck this wet little pussy, I’m gonna go crazy.”

************************

All your life, you were told your purpose is to please your future owners, whoever they might be. You were designed for it, were taught exactly what to do to bring pleasure to your human. At no point were you told anything about your own pleasure. It was irrelevant. 

So you had no idea your own body could feel so good. Jo’s fingers rubbing the little nub between your folds is sending shockwaves of pleasure through your whole body, making you release mewling cries, your eyes tearing up, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you bury your face in his neck. Your body is trembling, your needy pussy clenching around nothing. 

You want him. You wanted him even before you bit him. You never thought your own desires mattered, your own preferences in human men. But now you belong to a man who is everything you ever wanted. If only he would bite you back and complete the imprinting. 

His fingers move a little faster, a little harder, and your body jerks. You cum for the first time, clinging to him as you cry out. 

You barely have a moment to pant in his lap before he shifts on the floor, pressing you onto your back in front of him. You squeak in surprise as he hovers over you. He’s so tall, so much bigger than you.

With one hand he gently rubs over your scar, making you flinch. You still can’t believe he finds it beautiful, and having him touch it scares you. What if he decides it’s ugly after all? What if he doesn’t want you anymore? But he bends down and presses his lips to the scar, kissing it in several different places. You draw in a sharp breath, tears in your eyes again, overwhelmed by the love you already feel for this man. 

He smiles up at you, then he lifts your legs, placing them on his shoulders, folding you in half. 

You stare up into his lovely green eyes as he presses his cock into your dripping virgin pussy. He goes slowly, carefully, but you can see the strain on his face. He wants to shove in fast and hard, wants to fuck you wildly. He’s too kind for that, taking his time and making sure you’re not hurt. It’s your first time after all. You smile up at him, even as you feel the first stings of your hole stretching to accommodate him. 

“You can go faster,” you say, trying not to wince. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Really?” he asks, then going just a little faster after you nod. 

It hurts a little, but you want him to feel good, to enjoy your body however he sees fit as your beloved owner. Still, he remains careful, watching your expression, and your love for him only grows. 

He gives a few shallow thrusts, and when you moan in response, he goes deeper. 

“You feel so good,” he says, leaning down to kiss your lips. You clench tightly around him, excited by his affection. You want more of it, more kisses, more touches. You want his love. 

A small shudder rips through him. “Fuck, if you keep squeezing me like that, I won’t be able to hold back!”

You wrap your arms around his neck. “I don’t want you to hold back,” you tell him, locking him in your adoring gaze. “I want all of you!”

He grunts as he shoves in deeper, probably harder than he intended, but his self control is clearly slipping. He begins thrusting all the way in, with slow, languid, impossibly deep motions. You cry out, tightening your arms around his neck, and he kisses you again, one of his hands moving to stroke your hair soothingly. 

“Ahh… Jo!” you cry as his thrusts pick up speed. He’s holding you so tenderly as he begins to pound into you. “Jo… I love you! Please… please love me!”

His eyes widen as he looks down at you, his cheeks going pink. For a moment he just stares at your face while he fucks you, hitting a spot within you that has you moaning. Then, all at once, he bends down and sinks his teeth into your shoulder. It’s not a hard bite, just enough to draw a tiny drop of blood. 

Enough to complete the imprinting. 

Your eyes fly open, your body responding immediately. Starting the imprinting process makes you feel love and arousal for him, but when it’s completed, those feelings grow wildly in intensity. You cum on the spot, nearly sobbing as all these sensations overtake you. 

Jo holds you firmly in his embrace, waiting for you to ride out your high before he releases the bite. Then he locks eyes with you as he plunges in deeper than ever before, his body going rigid as he groans. You feel his hot cum shoot into you in thick spurts, and you know he’s now claimed you as his own. 

The two of you lie there on the floor for a while after, you curled up in his arms. You look up at him. “Thank you, Jo.”

“Hmm? What for this time?” he asks, a lazy smile on his face. 

“For making me yours.”

He laughs breezily. “More like you made me yours.”

You grin, your face pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You’re finally content, knowing the two of you belong to each other. 

[joyswonderland1108]

OT7 But I Will Start Swinging. Try Me.

Before I start, when I say 'y’all,' don’t take it personally — I’m just putting the message out there for whoever the shoe fits.

Just a gentle reminder before I throw this table: Hi, hello, I’m Joy, full-time OT7, but Jimin and Jungkook are the ones who make my neurons misfire aka my biases. HOWEVER — and I need y’all to pay attention here — if I need to speak up for every single member, I WILL, because I’m not half an OT7 like some are pretending to be.

Let’s get this straight. I will never forget nor forgive how this fandom treats my biases. Jungkook is not your delulu Y/N fanfic doll, and Jimin is NOT the group’s emotional support background dancer. But when it came to SUPPORTING them? When it was time to actually show the fuck up? Crickets. Literal dust. Tumbleweeds. “Are You Sure?” — a project that JIKOOK THEMSELVES spelled out was important — got ignored like it was a demo from 2015. FINE. Okay. Let’s pretend that’s normal behavior. Suddenly everyone's phone screen cracked and their Wi-Fi stopped working. Some just sat there like “🤷‍♀️✨stream who?” anyways. Jikook literally spoon-fed you how important that show was for them, but nooo, let’s act blind instead.

But then explain this to me — and no hate to the girlies involved — why the actual hell is the voting gap between Jimin x Jennie and Jungkook x IU CLOSE TO ZERO? Huh? At what point did we decide that giving other fandoms the upper hand was part of the plan? I remember the fandom having a full-on civil war when two members were put in the same poll, but now it’s suddenly too much to outvote other idols? Are we tired? Are our thumbs broken? WHERE IS THE ENERGY?

Moving on.

Before I go deeper into this mess, congrats to Namjoon for his win at the AMAs — love that for him, seriously. But I have to ask: have some of y’all completely lost your goddamn minds? Jimin is one of my biases and yes, I was sad he didn’t win. But that didn’t stop me from being genuinely happy for Namjoon — HE DESERVES IT TOO.

But noooo, some people had to start acting like absolute clowns on the TL acting like this was the Hunger Games. I am sick to death of seeing y’all try to “support” Jimin by invalidating Namjoon. I sat there thinking, “Wow, Namjoon really lurks online. He’s gonna see this shit.” And guess what? HE PROBABLY DID. Imagine being proud of a win, opening Twitter, and seeing “Congrats… but it was only out of pity” or “fanbases paid people to vote for you.” Imagine being happy about a huge solo achievement just to go online and find your “fans” saying it was all pity votes and bribery. Like EXCUSE ME?? We KNOW how voting works. We know the fandom plays dirty sometimes. BUT WHY THE FUCK are you putting that drama on the timeline where the BOYS can see it? Why do you want them to feel BAD for succeeding? What kind of mental gymnastics is this?

And THEN — lord give me strength — I saw that TikTok.

A comment was made that Jimin received a lot of hate during the AMAs voting period, and this girl decided her grand response was, “Jimin is happy for Namjoon.” …HUH??? That wasn’t the damn question, sweetie! That’s not an answer! You’re glazing over actual hate with a bootlicker Hallmark card like that does ANYTHING.

Let me make it clear: We all KNOW the members love each other. That’s not the debate. You don’t get a gold star for reminding us that the sky is blue. If the roles were reversed and someone said Namjoon got hate, I wouldn’t reply with “Joon is happy for Jimin <3” because IT’S NOT THE POINT. The point is the hate. Not your weak attempt at a kumbaya moment.

But wait! The saga continues! SAME girl made another video saying she used to think JK solos were bad, but now she believes Jimin solos are worse. 🤡 Okay. Sure. Solos are toxic. All solos can be toxic. But tell me this: who do you think is funding birthday cafés, streaming goals, mass voting, banners, ad trucks, and literal TIMES SQUARE BILLBOARDS?

Let me hit you with some bitter truth: no matter how much I personally hate the drama solos create, their work? UNDENIABLE. You wanna erase them entirely? Cool, then get ready to do 20x the effort on your own. The numbers? Solos. The insane voting sprints? Solos. That birthday project you liked on Insta? Probably a solo.

And THEN — this one got me THROWING FURNITURE — someone commented that Jimin needs to address his solos.

Oh? He does? Since when do idols sign a clause in their contract that says “must babysit toxic fans”? Is he your therapist? Your kindergarten teacher? NO MEMBER owes it to us to fix fandom discourse. What do you want him to say? “Dear solo stans, stop being toxic 😔”? Y’all are so detached from reality it hurts.

In conclusion: y’all are fake OT7s, selective supporters, and part-time clowns trying to tear down the people who are literally keeping your faves afloat. If you think shitting on solos — while doing ZERO yourself — makes you morally superior, you’re just loud and useless. Report toxicity, sure. But stop acting like every solo fan is the devil incarnate while they’re out there WORKING.

Until you’re the one personally raising 10K USD for an ad campaign, organizing café events, and hitting mass vote caps daily, do us all a favor and shut the fuck up.

Signed,

An OT7 with two fists and zero tolerance left, who will greedily accept any help to keep the boys always #1.

[potatomountain]

Alien In My Living Room

Pairing: Alien!Hongjoong x fem reader x neighbor Cowboy! San Summary: After inheriting your farm it's been a struggle- not as much as the alien that crashed there and has been a little menace for some time. A big enough menace your neighbor (and crush) come over at the wrong time- or maybe the right time. WC: 4k AU: cowboy vs alien! hentai Genre: pwp, scifi Warning(s): 18+ rating, eggpreg, breeding kink, tentacles, weird bodily anomalies. rainbowish cum, restraints, some slight predator/prey dynamics if you squint. threesome. double penetration, anal (male/female receiving) Betas: @bunnliix ~ @adelusionforyourthoughts ~ @yourfatherlucifer AN: Happy birthday to the LOML Kim Hongjoong! And also a happy birthday to one of my favorite fanfic writers @sanjoongie !! You can probably guess what bits were thrown in just for you! ps: I kinda got the idea from the song "Llama in my Living Room" by AronChupa! dividers and Banner by me! Ageless blogs that interact with this piece, even a like, will be blocked INSTANTLY, no exceptions.

Main Masterlist

The worst part of being a city girl from a farm was when the farm became yours. Still a year into owning and living back on your family’s farm and you still had no idea what to do with all the land. Your neighbors handled the last harvest, and you debated selling more of the land to them and mostly keeping the ranch house. Of course you knew how to take care of the land, you grew up doing so, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to spend your adult life doing it either.

But that hadn’t been a problem for the last couple of months. Instead your biggest concern was what the fuck you were going to do about the Alien that had taken up residence on your land. He looked human enough, but not at first. His pretty face didn’t erase the being you knew was under there, more limbs than torso, the translucent pink his hair currently was. How he had molded into a man that looked like one of the idols on your posters was beyond you. Though you supposed it wasn’t a complete transformation, as you learned the one time you saw him shirtless. If you ignored that, he was pretty to look at.

But he was also annoying.

“Are you ever going to fix your stupid ship and get out of here?” You snapped out, swiveling in your desk chair to glare at the being who was currently harassing your cat, again. Why your cat stood for it and didn’t hiss was beyond you, weren’t they good predators? Salem managed to slip out of Hongjoong’s hands, running for one of the many hidey holes he had around your home. Hongjoong looked up from the floor with wide blue eyes, the stars themselves shining in his irises. “I thought you liked having me around here?” “You’re terrorizing my adorable kitten and you’re out there at ungodly hours banging and causing a ruckus! Why would I like that?” You huffed out again, crossing your arms over your chest. “And for a creature that doesn’t eat, you sure like to eat all my food!” “I’m sorry- I need energy and I can’t get it my usual ways.” He protested, crawling over to you in such a clumsy way you wondered how this could be a being capable of space travel.

You frowned, lifting your leg to press your heel into his shoulder and stop him from getting too close. “What do you mean- that sounds awfully sus.” “Sus?” “Suspicious. Jesus, you managed to learn how to blend in so well but you can’t manage the lingo?” You rolled your eyes, still unsure how he managed to adapt so effortlessly. He never gave you an explanation, just transformed fully into this and within a few days he was talking like he had lived on earth his whole life- minus missing many social cues. “Anyways, I thought you didn’t need to eat so why do you need the extra energy now?” Hongjoong was still pressing forward, something different in his eyes that made you apprehensive. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked the question. 

The sudden appearance of one of his nearly translucent tentacles sliding up your leg sent off warning bells in your head. It pushed up the fabric of your sweatpants, leaving behind a little bit of slick that darkened the light gray fabric. Was it supposed to be wet? “I need the extra energy to produce and lay my eggs… you’re really warm actually.” The words came out like a lustful purr, furthering your panic. Quickly you slapped the tentacle aside, watching him wince as you stood up and put distance between you. “Sorry for asking, this is super interesting stuff but I uh- gotta go catch my fridge.” You mentally slapped yourself for the stupid excuse, but hoped he would buy it as you rushed out of your office.

He hadn’t been flirting with you had he? Hadn’t implied to fuck his eggs into you… that’s what you told yourself. Yet the idea was now in your head, as was the question if he even had a dick or would he use-

The train of thought had your body reacting, which just concerned you even more. He was an alien! Why couldn’t you have dirty thoughts about your neighbor instead? The mental reminder of the cowboy next door just had your cheeks even more heated, slapping them in an attempt to control yourself. Why were you suddenly so damn horny? You really needed the fresh air, booking it towards your kitchen and back patio.

However, you didn’t make it through the living room before you were tackled to the couch, bent over the arm and face in the cushions. You hadn’t even heard him following you, but now you could feel him pressing down against your back, his heavy pants so obvious as he leaned over your body close enough you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. “Sorry Star, but you ran away smelling so good. Humans like consent, right?” He sounded quite worked up, touching you in several ways that was making your mind fuzzy with heat. His hands pushed up your shirt, but there were several tentacles touching your skin. They were warm and slick, slithering over your flesh.

You realized you enjoyed how they felt, skin feeling hotter where the slick remained, almost sensitive. “W-we do. Hongjoong, what do you normally do with your eggs?” “Incubator on ship…” He panted out, his hands now pinning your arms to the cushion above you. “It broke when I crashed, don’t have the parts to fix it. Keep them safe until I return home to gift… but I can't wait.”

Biting down on your lip as the tips of his tentacles rubbed at your nipples under your bra- which you don’t remember getting pushed up - you tried to turn your head to look at him, just to have your breath catching in your throat at his needy expression. You could really see the stars in the blue of his eyes, no white in sight. His tongue lulled out, the same translucent pastels as the tentacles roaming your body. He was losing his human visage, but in the slightest ways, even the pale pink of his hair seemed almost otherworldly with how it fell in his face.

You should tell him off, knowing that the pleading look he gave you was your consent. As annoying as the creature was, he was not unbearable or disrespectful, changing any errors he made to suit your tastes. It was that knowledge that had you caving in. Within seconds of your nod your clothes were gone, bra and panties in particular ripped off you as you were put in such a lewd position but you couldn’t find the time to feel ashamed. Not when the warm slick of one of his appendages was rubbing between your slick folds, teasing you, while the rest sought out sensitive bits and toyed with them. They sucked on your nipples, rubbing around your throat and adding pleasure that made your head spin. Hongjoong let out a particularly pornagraphic moan just behind you that just added to the haze you were beginning to drown in. “Oh you like that?” He chuckled before moaning louder, moaning your name, which had your body reacting. The shiver that coursed through you had your back arching in response, pushing your behinds back against him. You wanted more.

He happily gave you more, pushing the tentacle into you with an inhuman cry of his own. It almost sounded eerie, probably did, but you lust-addled mind didn’t register at such. It did register another male calling your name in a panic, and your kitchen door slamming open. 

You looked up in time to see your friendly neighbor, once childhood friend, standing in the archway of your living room, beautiful sun kissed skin almost pale from the shock that the visage of Hongjoong probably presented. There were at least four tentacles on your body at the moment, and you couldn’t see how many more he had out, but enough to really shock the muscle man as he passed out, falling to the ground.

“San?” You attempted to pull away from Hongjoong, concerned for the man that laid on your wooden floor. His cowboy hat had fallen off, a thin layer of sweat coating his forehead and skin exposed under the vest. You were a lot less concerned than you should be, instead finding him quite delectable, almost like you wanted to jump onto his cock. The harsh way Hongjoong shoved his tentacle deeper into your cunt distracted you from those thoughts. “Pay attention to me Star, I’m the one fucking you.” He growled out, his hold on you tightening all over possessively. Gone was the needy being from a moment ago, Hongjoong was now completely in charge with the way you were lifted up off the couch and displayed in the air. He turned you to watch him, his own clothes coming off. He still had the shape of a human, even a cock you noticed, but the colors of his tentacles now moved over his skin like a work of art.

It was hypnotizing. “Hongjoong~” You whined out, glancing down as best you could to take in the sight of just how he was fucking you. Like straight out of a hentail, the sensations were almost too much.

It was his thumb on your clit that drove you over the edge, rubbing it in perfect stimulating circles that you cried out, creaming all over the slimy tendril. Hongjoong’s head rolled back, his body practically vibrating and you wondered how good it must feel to him for him to look so blissed out.

You didn’t get a chance to ask, falling to the couch the next second as Hongjoong was tackled to the floor by your neighbor. In the struggle he had let go of you completely, the wind knocked out of you from your fall, but some sense knocked into you as well. Still catching your breath you scrambled up, unsure just where to insert yourself in the mess of limbs flying about. “San! Hongjoong! Stop it!” You couldn’t really blame San for freaking out, since Hongjoong was an alien just casually in your living room. Casually fucking you, but making sounds that could be misconstrued.

San halted his fist, sitting on top of the being that had most of his other limbs restrained with his own. “But Miss he-” “He’s a friend San, alien or not.” You huffed out, bending down next to them and fixing Hongjoong with a stare. “And you won’t harm him either.” “But you were thinking about him fucking you! While I was inside you, it’s not fair!” He actually pouted, which was almost funny.

You were too embarrassed to laugh, San turning his attention to you. How could you not want to fuck him though? Toned cowboy, a real gentleman that had been helping you with the farm- even now in dusty jeans and a leather vest, hair tossled from when his hat fell off, he was fine as fuck. “Have you really not been noticing the way I eye fuck you when I ask your help for any manual labor?” “I… didn’t want to get my hopes up-” San mumbled out, just to get flipped over suddenly, Hongjoong holding him down. “Hey!!” “She’s mine human- back off!” “Like hell I will. You don’t have a claim on her.” “I was in the middle of that when you so rudely interrupted.” As if to show off, he moved one tentacle over to you, wrapping around your bare thigh and then the tip shoved itself back into your cunt. Instantly you moaned out, head falling back as it pushed deep. “Think you can fuck her like this?” San was pouty as he watched, but the lust there was unmistakable. “You have a lot to fuck her with. That doesn’t mean shit- is that a fucking egg.” San screeched out, both of you watching a small round object move through the tube-like appendage. You could feel it as it moved along your thigh, heart racing with panic. You tried to grab at it, stop him, but he had your arms pinned at your sides. The stars in his eyes swirled with chaos, striking you with a bit of fear.

Fear that melted away as you were stretched out more than you thought possible, the egg shooting up into you and pushed into your womb. It was intense, head falling back as you cried out, shaking from the sensation.

“Oh my God-” San was in awe at your sight, which drew your attention even through the haze. You wanted to slump forward, instead you couldn’t tear your eyes away as cum shot out of Hongjoong’s pink cock onto San, covering him in what looked like melted pearls. “Fuck-” San winced as a splatter got on his cheek, but Hongjoong wasn’t paying attention to either of you.

For what seemed like an eternity, both you and San couldn’t tear your eyes away from the alien. His tendrils trembled from the aftershocks of his climax, his hands moving up his body and twisting his own pink nipples while there was a soft glow behind his closed eyes.

You did notice that Hongjoong was no longer holding San down, just sitting on his thighs and tilted back in pure bliss. San could’ve easily pushed him off, in fact you had no idea why he didn’t. Was he just as enamored with the alien as you were?

The shifting between your legs reminded you that you were still impaled on the alien tentacle, though now he was pulling out. In a moment of panic you tried to grab at it, whining because you didn’t want to be left empty.

But even as it was pulled out, you didn’t feel empty though, the egg inside a weighted reminder that you were being bred. Collapsing forward on your palms not that you were let go, you panted out. “J-Joongie~ Please give me more.” You whined, needing more, and that was all you could think about in your hazy state. Hongjoong murmured something in a language you didn’t understand- what you recognized as his own language- as he slipped off of San and practically ignored you. So you whined again, reaching out for him.

“Are you just going to ignore her?” San scoffed, pushing himself up onto his elbows now that he was mostly free.

Hongjoong shook his head, most of his extra limbs retracting. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” San screeched out just as you let out a loud noise of confusion. You were getting really hot now.

In a flash, San's clothes were just gone, exposing his own thick and throbbing cock standing at attention. Your eyes zeroed in, spit building up in your mouth as the need for Hongjoong shifted to San and his throbbing member. Hongjoong giggled breathlessly, motioning with his fingers to the two of you. “Fuck. Fertilize. Next egg is prepping.” He rubbed his lower stomach now, a tiny bulge there that you noticed finally.

The eagerness to be filled with another egg had you crawling over to San and straddling his lap.

“Hey hey wait- sweetheart just think- fuck~!” San’s protests were cut off as you impaled yourself down on his cock, all fight leaving him as he grabbed your sides. “Fuck I think I can feel it. It’s hot. You’re throbbing… sweetheart I-” “Shut up and just fuck me San. Don’t tell me you didn’t think about it before.” Sliding a hand up through his hair, you tugged at it to get his full attention. “Or did you wear such a slutty outfit just for the hell of it and not to get me staring?” He swallowed hard, heat darkening his features and a bashful pout on his features. “But not like this.” He didn’t deny, and for you that was enough reason to roll your hips and feel him move inside you. He was harder than the tentacles, but just as deep that he probably could feel that large egg sitting in your womb. “Sweetheart please.” 

“Would you prefer to carry my eggs?” Hongjoong moved to sit beside you both, staring at the spot of cum that had dried on San’s sharp cheek. “Because I can arrange that.” Neither of you answered, both instead groaning at the thought, picturing San’s taunt stomach bulged out with the tentacles or eggs or both. Hongjoong laughed at your thoughts, at least it seemed so with the knowing smirk on his lips. “I could just fuck you both that way.”

You were on your back the next second, legs pushed up by San’s thighs and both of your behinds exposed to the warm air of your home. He seemed just as surprised as you were, only for his confusion to melt away, brows furrowed as he looked down between you. Your slightly swollen stomach was a sight to see pressed against his lower abdomen- hell he was a sight to behold just hunched over you and trapping you in with your legs and his wide shoulders. There was a slap, San lurching forward with a yelp that quickly turned into a groan, leading to control snapping and he was finally giving you what you wanted. “Sorry Sweetheart~” He drawled out, rough hands from years of farm work holding your hips still as he slammed his cock into you at an even rougher pace.

You didn’t care one bit, head falling back and just taking what he was giving you. It felt like a heavy haze of lust was encompassing you again, moans spilling from your lips as all you could do was lay there and get bred. Not that you minded at all.

Greedily you grabbed onto San’s shoulders, nails digging in as he bent forward more to rest his forehead on your shoulder. The soft grunts and whispers of your name and the dozens of different names of endearment he had for you falling from your lips. His breath felt hot on your skin, but nothing beat the pulsating heat from your womb.

Not even the slick intrusion in your rear, which by San’s reaction, he had a similar intrusion. “Fucking hell- my ass!” He twisted enough to growl at the alien that refused to be forgotten, just to let out a higher pitched moan than he was moments ago. It almost matched yours, the double penetration of his cock and now one of Hongjoong’s slimy tentacles pushing up inside, made everything almost impossibly tight.

For you and San. “What, don’t like it?” Hongjoong mused, thrusting the tendrils in and pushing you both across the floor a bit. “Do I need to do the fucking as well.” With an annoyed hiss, San turned back to you, a challenge in his eyes that ended up matched by his dimpled smirk. “Seems like he got lonely, doesn’t it sweetheart?” You nodded, eyes rolling back at how deep both your holes were currently filled. “D-don’t mind. Come on Sannie baby, fill me up. He wants it so bad~ give it to me please.” With how tightly you two were pressed together you managed to grab his firm butt cheeks, loving how they tensed as your nails dug in deep. 

He hissed again, then picked up pace that put his earlier one to shame. Now cries and screams fell from your lips, the wood beneath your back a harsh reminder of where you were but with both of them fucking you at such an animalistic pace you couldn’t even think.

Even when you came you could hardly tell when it started or passed, just trembling beneath them and holding on for your dear life. 

Hongjoong was just in sight to the side of you both, stroking his pink cock in sync with the tendrils he was fucking you both with. You were well aware when San started spilling his seed into you, his cry matched by an almost overwhelming heat between your legs as he filled you up deep. The egg pulsated in your womb, just absorbing what San was giving you, satisfying you in ways you didn’t know you needed.

The alien stilled himself inside you both, no eggs pushed in but his pretty pearlescent cum splattered on the side of both San and yours faces. The second it seemed to touch your skin the haze in your mind seemed to thicken. It would have you suspicious if you didn’t feel so damned content and peaceful.

In fact, so content and peaceful that the next time you were actively aware of your body and mind you were sitting on the couch, cleaned up and curled against San’s side. The man was once more wearing pants, a blanket was wrapped around you, and Hongjoong was sitting on the coffee table passing for a regular human almost.

The two were chatting, and you couldn’t really make out what was said until Hongjoong caught your attention with the phrase “I thought I’d never get you two to breed.” You sat up, frowning a bit. “What the fuck do you mean by that?” By the sudden panic on his face, you guessed he hadn’t realized he said it. “Well- uh- I mean you’ve been thinking about sleeping with him since I got here!” While it wasn’t a lie, you shifted to get up and interrogate him more. 

Both Hongjoong and San stopped you, hands on your swollen and heated stomach. Right, they had literally just bred you…. Convenient that San had stopped over when he did. “Sannie, why did you stop over today?” “The last few weeks there were usually weird sounds coming from your field around this time so I thought I could come over and ask you about it.” The sweet man was staring at your stomach, much more calm about this situation than he had been earlier.

Even you felt more calm, which was alarming by itself. You don’t remember any sounds around this time, but it was also the time of day that Hongjoong would be in the barn working on fixing his ship. Today he insisted on bothering your cat Salem though… it clicked. Slowly you turned to the inhuman being who looked to be perspiring oil down his neck. “Hongjoong… did you plan this from the beginning?”

San joined you in staring the nervous alien down, which considering what had just transpire was an ironic turn of events. “Now that you mention it… it is odd. When he was touching me I just got so damned horny too.”

“Same actually… think it’s some alien trick?”

“Maybe the slime?”

“Hmm maybe… fucking hell we’re talking about this like it’s the weather. What the hell did you do Hongjoong?” You snapped out, hissing at the creature.

He couldn’t meet your eyes, but his explanation came out like word-vomit. How his ship was technically fixed weeks ago, his incubator was fine, but he couldn’t leave like that. It took both you and San to pull it out of him. “Because I maybe, accidentally, imprinted on you both… now I’ll get sick if I’m away from you two for too long… Might have made sure it’s the same for you both now…” He pointed to your stomach, really solidifying what you had done.

San and you both scoffed, then shared a nonchalant look. Despite the daunting situation, there was a big part of you that you didn’t think would have minded even without the added imprint or whatever Alien thing Hongjoong had going on. It seemed the same for him. Still, you both grinned, then laughed. “Ha. Aliens.”

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[eleanor-wolff98]

Dominium: A Heretic fanfic

Mr Reed x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+, explicit

Word count: 6.7k

Summary: He was the Devil himself, and you, a prayer made to fall.

Warnings: Sex, Religion, Control, Manipulation, BDSM, Light Bondage, Loss of virginity, Power Dynamics, Older Man / Younger Woman, Slow Burn.

Notes: This fanfic was inspired after I heard a statement that Mr. Hugh Grant has, at some point, been a Dungeon Master... and, well, it made me think things.

(This fanfic is also avaliable on AO3)

The rain was falling torrentially, making it difficult to see anything in front of you as you hurried toward his house. The dress was completely soaked, clinging to your skin, and the cold of the night seemed sharper with every step. You hesitated for a moment in front of the heavy dark wooden door, raising your hand to knock. Before you could complete the gesture, it swung open.

There he was.

“You’re going to catch a cold,” Mr. Reed said, with that warm, gentle smile — the one that always seemed reserved exclusively for you.

Without waiting for your response, he gently pulled you inside, closing the door against the storm. The warmth of the house enveloped you immediately, offering a momentary relief. Reed grabbed a towel from a nearby hook and handed it to you, his eyes carefully scanning your face and clothes, as if he wanted to make sure you were okay.

“Come, sit,” he said, motioning to the usual armchair in the corner of the room.

You obeyed, still feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you watched him walk toward his own chair. He settled into it with natural elegance, as if this were the place where he wielded his power. Everything there — from the scent of polished wood to the soft sound of the rain tapping against the windows — created an almost mystical atmosphere.

“So, what would the young lady like to talk about today?” He asked with that smile you knew so well, but something in his eyes was different — something you couldn’t fully interpret. You hesitated, nervously fiddling with your fingers over the fabric of your dress.

“Actually, I think you should lead the topic today. Every time I come here, I talk non-stop. You must be tired of hearing me.”

“No.” The firmness in his voice was unexpected, almost uncomfortable. “I like listening to you.”

You felt a flush spreading across your cheeks. His gaze met yours with an intensity that made the air around you feel thicker. You quickly looked away, focusing on the bookshelf in the corner of the study, trying to dissipate the nervousness rising inside you.

“What is it?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his voice low and almost seductive.

“Nothing,” you replied, but the fragility in your voice didn’t convince him. His smile widened, becoming even more unreadable. He knew. Reed always knew.

“Are you sure?” He leaned forward, placing his long fingers on the arm of the chair. “You seem… distant.”

You bit your lip without realizing, quickly correcting the gesture when you noticed. “I just… got a little distracted, I guess.”

“Ah, distracted,” he repeated, savoring the word as if it were something tangible. His tone was low, almost a caress. He always did this — took your simple responses and broke them down, layer by layer, until only the raw truth remained. And that scared you. He made you question things you didn’t even know were there. “By what?”

You tried to ignore the question, but his gaze cornered you, as if he were stripping away your most hidden thoughts. “It doesn’t matter.” Your attempt to close the subject sounded fragile, and he noticed.

Reed laughed, low and controlled, but the sound reverberated inside you in a way you couldn’t explain.

“Doesn’t matter?” He stood slowly, walking toward you with the calm of a predator who knew the prey had nowhere to run. He stopped beside you, leaning just enough for you to feel his warmth and hear each word as a whisper directly into your soul. “You know I notice everything, don’t you? The way you avoid my eyes, how you blush every time I say something more direct… You have a secret, my dear. And I will uncover it.”

“My dear, do you believe the Lord approves of your desire to be here?” He pauses, watching the way you try to process the question. “Do you believe your devotion is stronger than the heat you’re feeling now?”

You try to move, but he’s already in front of you, lowering himself so your faces are at the same level. “Tell me, have you ever been touched by a man?”

The question comes as a blow, direct and without preamble. Your heart races, and you hold your breath, feeling his gaze pierce you like a blade.

“It’s a simple answer, my dear. Yes or no. No need to elaborate.”

“What’s the point of these questions? Where are you going with this?”

“Yes or no?” He whispers, as if reciting a spell.

“No,” you reply, your voice faltering slightly. He smiles, but it’s not a kind smile. It’s a smile of triumph, as if he’s just confirmed something he already knew. If his plan was to have you in the palm of his hand, he succeeded in its execution.

“Interesting,” he murmurs, running his fingers over the arm of the chair. “And have you ever thought about being touched? Have you ever felt that heat rising through your body, that desire that no prayer in the world can extinguish?”

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. He leans closer, his face just inches from yours.

"Or perhaps..." he continues, his voice low and laden with intention. "Perhaps you’ve already let yourself feel it. Have you ever touched yourself, in secret, while convincing yourself it was the last time?"

A flush rises to your face, and you try to look away, but he grabs your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You can lie to yourself, my dear, but you can’t lie to me. I see what you try to hide. And do you know what’s worse? I see that you like it."

He pauses, letting his words sink deeply into you.

"Desire is not a sin. At least, not the kind of desire I’m talking about. When you give in, when you let your body speak what your mind fears... that, my dear, is sacred. A silent prayer that I would love to witness."

"Repressed sexuality is like a smothered flame," he says, his tone taking on a near-educational note. "You think it’s extinguished, totally dormant inside you, but in reality, it burns even stronger, waiting for the moment to escape. And I see it in you. Every gesture, every word spoken with caution... all of it is fueled by something far more intense. Something you’re too afraid to admit, but that I have no fear of exploring."

You swallow hard, his words echoing in your mind like a forbidden mantra. He finally releases your chin and stands, walking calmly toward the door in the corner of the room, his movements maddeningly collected.

"This is lust. Something utterly libertine and indecent, the personification of the corruption of the soul. We are temples of the Holy Spirit." You try to speak coherently, without stumbling over your words. "You shall not commit adultery."

"I’m familiar with the Ten Commandments. However, if there’s one thing I advise you to follow, it’s the old Latin saying: Carpe Diem," he says in a loud, almost mocking tone. "It’s cliché, I know. But seize the day, my dear. Don’t let these bastards oppress you." You know exactly who he’s referring to.

"There’s no one and nothing oppressing me." The words come out sharper than you intend, and you take a small sense of pride in delivering the sentence. Anger. That’s perfect. You manage to break free of that indecent intellectual battle with anger.

"Really? Then why are you angry?" That cynical smile reappears on his lips. Damn. It’s devilish, degrading, seductive.

"I’m not angry." You try to control your voice, not falling into his trap. "Your questions are intrusive. It’s like you enjoy cornering me."

"Oh, so the little rabbit has fallen into the wolf’s trap." His footsteps creak softly on the carpet. In contrast, your heartbeat seems synchronized with each step he takes. The closer he gets, the more your heart pounds.

"Just... let me go." Your voice comes out almost like a plea. His eyes seek yours, attempting to trap them, but little does he know, you’ve been shackled to him since the first time you saw him.

His mind, his intelligence, his graying hair, his way of speaking, his way of walking, his gaze. He looks at you as if you were the only girl in the world. There’s something almost devotional in the way he listens to every word, every detail about you.

"Look at me."

You summon every ounce of courage you have and face him.

"What do you want?"

His thumb gently traces your lips, the touch so light it feels like an attempt to memorize every piece of you. "I want you."

Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest at his answer. Your legs tremble, unable to hold you up, and you feel the wetness pooling in your panties. You can’t get any closer to him for a single second. He will surely be your ruin — or, perhaps, your salvation.

"This isn’t right, Mr. Reed. I can’t, I don’t want this." That’s all you manage to say.

"You’re a terrible liar." His voice is dripping with intoxicating sensuality. For a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would feel like to have the timbre of his voice against your bare skin. The rain still patters against the windows, echoing through the house like a constant reminder of the storm outside. The warmth of the room contrasts with the cold you feel, but not because of the weather. It’s his gaze, intense and penetrating, that makes you feel as if you’re naked, exposed. Reed watches you, as he always does, with exasperating calmness, as if he could see through every thought you try to conceal.

Reed leans in closer, and you can’t help but recoil, your mind screaming a warning that your body refuses to obey. He’s so close now that you can feel his breath, warm and filled with that unmistakable scent of spices and wood.

"Why are you here, after all?" He asks, each word slow, chosen with surgical precision. "Surely, it wasn’t just to escape the rain. So tell me... what brought you here?"

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. How could you put into words the whirlwind of emotions that consume you? What does he want to hear? The truth or an excuse that sounds plausible? The memory of a sermon from your childhood resurfaces: "Sin begins with the seed of desire."

"I don't know," you finally admit, your voice barely a whisper. It's the only thing you can say without contradicting yourself.

"You don't know... or are you afraid to admit it to yourself?" The question hangs in the air, heavy, as he reaches out, his fingers grazing yours. The touch is delicate, but the impact is overwhelming. A shiver runs down your spine, and you resist the urge to pull your hand away.

"If you want to leave, go," he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours, hypnotic like a dancing flame. "The door is right there. I won't stop you."

You know he's telling the truth. He would never force anything — but he doesn’t need to. The power he holds over you comes from his very ability to make you want what you shouldn’t. He’s a paradox, a man who represents everything you fear and, at the same time, everything you desire.

"But if you choose to stay..." He pauses, the tension growing between you like a rope about to snap. "If you stay, you'll have to face what's here." He touches the side of your face gently, his thumb drawing an arc under your jaw. "Because what you feel... what I feel... can't be ignored forever."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest as if it’s trying to escape. There’s weight in his words, something that makes your defenses crumble, one by one. You know you're standing on the edge of a cliff, and it only takes one step to fall — or to fly.

The rain continues outside, but inside that room, the world seems to have stopped. It’s just you and him, and the decision hanging between you, pulsing like an invisible electric current.

"This fight inside you, between what you want and what you think you should want... it’s fascinating."

You avert your eyes, your mind struggling to find an escape. His words disarm you in ways you can’t predict.

"I really need to go." The words come out hastily, as if saying them aloud might make them true.

He moves slowly, intercepting your path with a nearly imperceptible gesture. His voice drops even lower, a whisper that seems to echo directly in your thoughts. "Before you go, let me show you something. Something that might help you understand."

You furrow your brow, confused and suspicious.

"Show me what?"

Reed turns, walking toward a heavy wooden door. Each step seems calculated, as if part of some ritual.

"The heart of this house." He stops in front of the door, placing a firm hand on the rustic surface. "A place where truth lives naked and raw, without judgment — without masks."

You hesitate, your body torn between the instinct to flee and the almost irresistible curiosity. His words carry a weight you can’t ignore.

"Why do you think I need to see this?" The question escapes more like a whisper, heavy with uncertainty.

He turns slightly, his eyes locking onto yours in a moment that seems to freeze time. "Because you’re already here. Because something in you knows you want this, even though your mind is still trying to deny it."

"And what if I say I don’t want to go?" Your voice is weak, but firm enough not to be ignored.

Reed doesn’t answer immediately. He looks at you for a long moment, almost contemplative, before speaking, his voice thick with controlled intensity. "The choice is yours. It always has been. But remember... what you fear now may be exactly what will set you free."

With that, he slowly pushes the door open, revealing a glimpse of what’s beyond — shadows dancing on the walls and a small, dark tunnel that seems to pulse with a mixture of mystery and danger. Reed steps through the portal and is swallowed by the shadows.

_______________________________________________

You hesitate for a moment before taking the first step to cross the portal. The air inside the tunnel is cold, and the lighting is sparse, with only a few soft lights scattered along the way. Each step echoes, amplifying the tension you already feel. The tunnel seems to stretch endlessly, but at the end, you spot a flight of stairs. Ascending the steps carefully, you sense a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

An unexpected and intriguing aroma begins to envelop you—a delicate blend of blueberry, mandarin, and sandalwood. The scent is both welcoming and provocative, as if it were part of a carefully planned ritual. Reaching the top, you pause, your heart racing as you prepare for what lies beyond the next room.

Crossing the threshold of the heavy door, the space that greets you seems to breathe around you. It’s as if the house itself possesses a heartbeat, pulsing in deep, intentional rhythms. The tunnel that led you here feels infinitely long, each step echoing with a muffled sound that only heightens the tension in your chest.

Now, standing at the entrance of the dungeon, you realize there is no turning back.

The room that opens before you is a scene taken from a luxurious nightmare. The lighting is low, composed of candles arranged in ornate holders that cast dancing shadows on the cold stone walls. At the center of the room, the canopy bed dominates like a macabre altar. The white, translucent curtains contrast with the iron chains hanging from the upper corners, clearly designed to restrain anyone daring enough to lie there. The chains, glistening in the flickering candlelight, carry not just physical weight but something deeper and symbolic, as if they were instruments of judgment.

Around the room, discreet shelves and hooks hold objects whose shapes suggest ambiguous functions. Fine-textured ropes, leather cuffs, and other elegantly designed items are arranged as if they are part of a meticulously curated collection. Nothing is overtly displayed, yet everything carries a silent promise of exploration and surrender.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, but it’s not just fear. The latent heat rising within you is almost unbearable, a fire spreading from your core to your most intimate parts. Every inch of your skin feels ablaze, while a cold sheen of sweat forms on your forehead. You know exactly what this place means, what it represents. And yet, something in you desires to stay.

Reed, standing near the entrance, observes silently. His gaze is not merely analytical; there is something predatory and reverent at the same time. He approaches slowly, each step a reminder of his overwhelming presence.

When he stops beside you, his voice comes low but laden with intent. “Do you understand what this place is, don’t you?” he asks, his voice seeming to merge with the room, filling every corner.

You swallow hard, unable to take your eyes off the bed. Your voice comes out as a whisper, barely audible. “I understand.”

Reed’s smile is slight, carrying both compassion and triumph. “Then, tell me. What do you feel when you look at it?”

You hesitate, your hands trembling slightly. You feel like a moth hypnotized by a flame, unable to pull away. “I see… a place where choices are taken. Where will is tested.” You allow yourself to touch the silver chains suspended from the upper part of the bed. Heat tingles intensely in your core.

Your imagination breaks free with thoughts of what could happen to you in that dungeon exuding lust.

Reed restraining you masterfully with those chains. Consuming you like a ravenous wolf feasting on a lamb.

Reed steps closer, his proximity sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. “And do you fear it? Or desire it?”

He shows no hesitation in probing you this way. It’s diabolical. Primal.

The question hangs in the air like an electric current. You finally tear your gaze away from the bed to meet his eyes, so blue they seem to see through every layer of resistance. “I don’t know how to answer.”

He raises his hand, the movement deliberate, and brushes his fingers against the side of your face. The touch is both gentle and electrifying, as though he’s measuring each of your reactions.

His fingers trail softly over your sex, revealing the dampness that fills the place between your legs. You feel like you could unravel just from watching him taste the liquid that was moments ago yours.

“Liar.”

You hold your breath, the weight of that word crushing. You had been caught lying for the second time in front of this man.

“Your body speaks for you,” he continues, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Every tremble, every hitched breath, every time you look away. You want more than you’re willing to admit.”

“Do you enjoy exposing me like this?” you finally respond, your voice laden with a mix of anger and desire. “Cornering me?”

Reed chuckles, the sound reverberating in your chest.

“I’m not cornering you, honey. I’m just holding up the mirror. What you see inside it is up to you.”

Your knees weaken slightly, but you force yourself to stand firm. Reed leans in close, his lips mere inches from your ear.

“Let me put it another way,” he says, his voice a whisper that makes your heart race. “Are you afraid of losing control, or are you afraid of what will happen when you give it up?”

The tension hangs heavy in the air, and you try to look away, but he presses on: “Tell me. Have you ever felt torn between your faith and your desires? Have you ever asked for forgiveness for wanting something you shouldn’t?”

You hesitate, feeling your cheeks burn. “I… I’ve prayed for those thoughts to go away.”

Reed raises an eyebrow, an enigmatic glint in his eyes. “And did they?” His calloused hands glide over your bare shoulders.

“No,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. “But it’s wrong. I know it is.”

“Wrong?” Reed repeats, his voice smooth as silk. “Or just human? Who said desire is a sin? Perhaps it’s the most honest prayer there is, one that comes from the body and not just the lips.”

A shiver runs down your spine. “It can’t be right. My faith...”

“Your faith,” he interrupts softly, “is beautiful. Just like you. But don’t you think the Creator, in His infinite wisdom, also created desire? Do you think He gave it to you just for you to suppress it?”

You don’t know how to respond. Your heart races, and the heat coursing through your body makes you feel vulnerable and exposed. Your eyes meet his in the mirror facing the canopy bed. Reed’s hands rest strategically on your body. One gracefully dominates your neck while the other meticulously explores your abdomen. He knows the power he holds over you.

“There’s no shame in this,” Reed whispers, his eyes fixed on yours.

You feel an overwhelming weight of inner conflict but also a strange relief in his words. Reed steps back slightly, allowing the silence to speak for you both.

Then, with an almost imperceptible smile, he concludes:

“Do you think the Lord doesn’t see? That He doesn’t hear every thought you try to hide? The difference between Him and me is that I don’t judge your weakness… I embrace it.” Reed murmurs behind your ear, his hands meticulously roaming your waist.

His warm tongue slides softly along your neck, and you feel a bliss you’ve never known before. Your head tilts back at the gesture, and at any moment, you feel like you might collapse. If you’re going to falter, let it be at the altar of his lust.

He was the Devil himself, and you, a prayer made to fall.

“You’ve entrusted your soul to the Lord… now trust your body to me.”

And then, the breaking point.

In a surge, your lips find his. The kiss is a collision of fire and urgency, charged with a desire that feels like it has been contained for eons. With mastery, your legs quickly wrap around his waist as if seeking to anchor him amidst the chaos you both provoke. Reed’s eyes, now a deeper shade of blue, shine like an abyss pulling you in. Every element of the room conspires to tempt: the intoxicating scent of polished wood and leather fills the air, mingling with the palpable electricity between you two.

Your tongue traces a slow, teasing path along Reed’s neck, stopping at the lobe of his ear as your voice escapes in a whisper filled with surrender and provocation: “I want to burn with you.”

Reed smiles enigmatically, his breath already ragged. With a determined movement, he lifts you into his arms, walking toward the canopy bed that dominates the room. The suspended chains, gleaming in the dim light, seem to await this moment. Reed lays you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours, as if every gesture is a silent promise. Slowly, he removes each piece of your clothing, his firm yet reverent fingers exploring every inch revealed.

"You are divine," he murmured, his deep voice laced with admiration and desire. "Perfect." Every word was an offering, spoken as if you were something sacred to be worshipped.

When your skin was fully exposed, Reed took the chains with a deliberate touch, fastening your wrists with a care that contrasted sharply with the intensity in his eyes. The cold metal against your warm skin provoked a contrast that made you gasp. He leaned over you, his fingers tracing invisible lines across your body as he spoke, his voice a whisper heavy with intent: "Now, I want you to trust me."

"Yes." The gasp in your voice was clear, charged with a desire you could barely contain. Reed reached for a red silk blindfold, sliding the soft fabric over your skin, eliciting shivers that raced through your body. Then, he covered your eyes with the cloth, ensuring it was secure and comfortable before checking the chains holding your wrists and ankles once more. Everything was safe, but the gesture brought a mix of care and control that left you even more surrendered.

His lips descended to your neck, tracing a warm, wet trail of kisses that quickened your breathing. You felt your nipples harden under the voracious touch of his mouth as it found your chest with urgency. He sucked and nipped at the sensitive peaks, eliciting a blend of pleasure and delicious agony. The faint sound of chains clinking filled the room, intertwining with your sighs and gasps.

Reed’s calloused hand glided down to your belly, his firm fingers exploring every inch with deliberate delicacy. You trembled in anticipation as he finally moved lower, to your core. The growing heat consumed you, and a satisfied smile spread across his lips. "You’re so wet," he murmured, his voice heavy with almost cruel pleasure. A low chuckle rumbled from his throat. "And I haven’t even started licking you yet."

More kisses were placed on your stomach. Reed traced a path with a pointed effort to make it slow and torturous, prolonging your anticipation to the limit. The satisfied smile on his lips was evident, even though you couldn’t see it. Every touch, every movement of his seemed calculated to intensify your wait, the desire building with each passing second. Blindfolded, the darkness amplified every sensation. For a moment, the room fell into an unsettling silence, adrenaline rushing through your veins like a torrential river. Only your ragged breaths filled the space, echoing like an unspoken prayer.

"Mr. Reed..." Your voice quivered, laden with pleading and anguish, but before you could say more, the sharp, crisp sound of a whip sliced through the air. The thin straps met your skin with a delicate force, leaving a trail of warmth. Reed dragged the object across your bare body, tracing a map of teasing lines on your sensitive skin. He lingered where he knew you were most vulnerable, the ends of the whip brushing your nipples with a precision that turned your gasps into short, restrained moans.

When you least expected it, a stronger snap landed on your skin. The moan that escaped your lips was involuntary, hoarse, and steeped in pleasure. Reed only laughed softly, a sound that reverberated like restrained thunder. The whip traveled slowly down the inside of your thighs, the provocative texture contrasting with the heat pooling inside you. Your legs, held open by the chains, trembled under his touch, unable to escape the delicious torment. He knew exactly how to play with expectation, and the waiting was almost unbearable.

Silence returned, oppressive, as you struggled to steady your breathing and the frantic beating of your heart. Each second felt like an eternity. Then, just as you were about to beg again, you felt the subtle touch of the whip’s tips against your most intimate place. A trembling moan slipped past your lips, unable to be contained. Reed leaned over you, his warm breath grazing your ear as he spoke, his voice a mix of reverence and dominance:

“The sounds you make, your anguish, your moans... they’re mine.”

His tone was different now, filled with something predatory, like an animal finally closing in on its prey. He set the whip aside, replacing the caresses of leather with the firm, calloused touch of his hands. Every movement seemed carefully designed to claim every inch of you, making it clear that, in that moment, there was nothing but complete surrender. His lips met yours in a long, passionate kiss. “Now, I want you to witness every frame of what happens next,” he whispered close to your ear as he removed the blindfold from your eyes.

Reed’s gaze traveled slowly down your body, lingering on your belly before he knelt beside the bed. His movements were deliberate, almost ritualistic, as his lips began placing kisses on the inside of your thighs, each one closer to your core. Heat and anticipation pulsed through your body, every cell vibrating with the knowledge of what was to come.

Reed alternated between soft and provocative kisses, his warm breath caressing your sensitive skin. He brushed the tip of his nose against your most intimate place with an almost innocent gesture, but the lascivious gleam in his eyes revealed the true purpose behind his actions.

“Let me worship you,” he whispered, his deep voice heavy with forbidden promises.

The phrase barely had time to register in your mind before his hot, skillful tongue claimed your core. He explored every part of you with precise and indulgent movements, as if savoring something sacred. The combination of light touches and deep licks sent waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You felt an overwhelming heat rise, a tension building in your belly, ready to explode. You tried to move, instinctively attempting to free your hands from the chains, but the restraint only heightened the pleasure. He controlled every moan, every tremble, every arch of your back – and that complete surrender transformed desire into something almost unbearable.

Reed’s strong fingers gripped your thighs firmly, leaving red marks that seemed to burn against your skin. Your body burned as if it were the final judgment, every touch of his consuming you like fire but never destroying you. It was both punishment and adoration, a testament to how he knew exactly how to dominate and venerate simultaneously.

You’re so sweet...so divine,” he murmured against your skin, his lips still busy worshipping you. “Your scent is intoxicating.”

Your body responded to him as if it had been created for this, your back arching involuntarily while your head fell back, soft moans spilling from your lips uncontrollably. Pleasure poured over you in rising waves, and when he slid a finger inside you, moving it slowly while his tongue continued its relentless rhythm, you knew you were lost.

It was sacrilege, a sin, but if this was hell, you would let yourself be consumed without hesitation. Your body trembled under Reed’s touch, every muscle taut as he guided you mercilessly toward a climax that promised to leave you shattered—pieces he would surely gather for himself.

“I can’t take it... my legs are trembling...” you tried to form coherent words, but everything felt like a beautiful mess.

“Let go,” he murmured again, his voice like dark honey, rich and hypnotic. “I want to feel you surrender completely to me.”

And then you fell apart, a hoarse, ecstatic cry filling the room as your body shattered and reassembled in his hands. Reed stayed with you, holding you, drawing out every second until the pleasure ebbed into a slow, satisfied pulse.

When he finally rose, his lips glistening and his eyes brimming with an endless hunger, you knew the night was far from over. He was the kind of man who never did anything halfway—and you could barely wait to find out what he would do next.

“Taste yourself.” Reed’s voice was a seductive command, an irresistible provocation. Two of his fingers traced your lips, the gesture charged with intent that sent your heart racing. The moment was exactly as you had imagined in your boldest fantasies—yet infinitely more intense in reality.

You held his gaze, determined not to look away, as your tongue wrapped around his fingers in a slow, deliberately obscene motion. The bittersweet taste was peculiar but no less arousing, and you made sure not to leave a single trace behind. Your lips closed around his fingers as his predatory gaze remained locked on you, each second crackling with electrifying tension.

Before you could even process what you’d done, Reed leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss—brutal in intensity, passionate in fervor. It was a sensual assault, every movement utterly dominating your will. Your body responded to his as though they were made to collide, the heat between you both growing with every passing moment.

You felt the hard press of him against your stomach, the deliberate yet subtle grind of his hips driving you to gasp against his lips, the desire in your veins pounding like liquid fire. The need was overwhelming. Only one part of you had been touched, corrupted by him, and you craved desperately for more. You wanted all of him—to be consumed entirely, to belong to him in body and soul.

“Sir...” your breathy whisper was an unspoken plea, laden with desire and surrender. He always knew what you wanted—he always knew—and you trusted him to take you beyond all boundaries, to guide you to a place where reason ceased to exist, leaving only the pure ecstasy of belonging to him.

“Say it.”

“I want you... inside me.”

Reed’s eyes fluttered shut, as though your words were a prayer offered directly to heaven. He drew in a deep breath, his exhale dripping with lust almost reverent in nature.

“Beg. I want to hear you beg.”

Those words were a surrender, a call to strip yourself not only of clothing but of any remaining semblance of control. Reed was a man who wielded words like weapons, yet here, they sounded like divine commands. And you would do everything he asked—each word a step closer to forbidden bliss.

“Please, Sir Reed... fuck me,” you whispered, your voice thick with need and urgency.

A guttural sound escaped his throat, the sound of a man utterly consumed by possession. The tension between you both was palpable, almost visible. Reed quickly rid himself of the last barriers hiding his virility. When you saw him fully exposed, a mix of awe and reverence coursed through you.

He was large, broad, imposing. The veins running along his length throbbed, and the heat radiating from him seemed to envelop your entire being.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle,” he said softly, his tone at odds with the commanding authority of his movements.

Reed positioned himself between your thighs, his eyes devouring every expression that flickered across your face. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, while the tip of his length brushed against your entrance. The first contact was taut with anticipation; your body trembled in response. Slowly, he began to push inside you.

A burn accompanied the initial stretch, a mixture of pain and pleasure that ignited like holy fire. You gasped, and Reed paused, his gaze searching yours as though seeking permission to continue. When you nodded, he moved further, filling you completely.

“You’re so tight...” he murmured, his voice gravelly and uneven with the effort to restrain himself.

With each slow thrust, the discomfort morphed into something deeper, something that transcended the physical. It felt as though he was branding not just your body but your soul. Your gazes locked, and the world around you ceased to exist.

"Now that you're mine," Reed said, his voice a blend of authority and desire, "I want you to feel every inch, every second. Because there's no going back, my dear. Not for us."

"I'm yours... only yours," you replied, your voice heavy with devotion and pleasure.

"Good girl," he whispered, a satisfied smile curving his lips.

He began to quicken his pace, his movements more intense and deliberate. His hands roamed over every curve of your body, one sliding upward to rest on your neck. The firm but controlled grip sent a wave of sensations coursing through you. Reed seemed to know exactly where to touch, how to provoke, how to guide.

"Look at me," he commanded, his hand on your neck ensuring the connection between you both.

You obeyed, your eyes glassy as they met his, while he continued to thrust into you.

"I want you to remember this moment. Who was the first to take you beyond all limits. Who is inside you."

"You, Mr. Reed," you answered, your lips trembling as pleasure built within you like an impending storm. "I belong to you."

His rhythm became wild, yet still charged with absolute control. He increased the pressure on your neck, the intensity of his touch triggering the release you had been hurtling toward. You unraveled around him, a hoarse cry filling the room as every fiber of your being vibrated with ecstasy.

Reed followed shortly after, a deep groan escaping his lips as he pushed deep one final time, the heat of his release filling you completely. The sensation was indescribable – warm, intimate, as though he was leaving a part of himself within you.

He stayed there, motionless for a moment, his breath labored, his eyes never leaving yours. Then he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, a gesture that contrasted starkly with the intensity of the act.

"You're mine," he murmured, almost like a vow.

And in that moment, with him still inside you, the world felt perfect in its imperfection.

_______________________________________________

The air in the room was still charged with the intimacy you had shared. Your body felt limp with exhaustion, and Reed seemed unwilling to let you go, holding you close as if the world outside that room no longer mattered. His large, warm hands moved gently over your back, each touch a perfect contrast to the strength he carried and the tenderness he now showed.

He pulled the blanket over you both, wrapping you in warmth and closeness. His hands continued their slow exploration of your skin, as if mapping every curve, every inch marked by the memory of what you had just shared. A soft kiss on the top of your head made you sigh, the gesture filled with an intimacy that went beyond words.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice rough, low, but firm, a reflection of the man he was.

"Yes," you murmured, your eyes heavy and your body sinking into the mattress. "Just… tired."

Reed chuckled softly, a deep, raspy sound that seemed to vibrate against your skin. His hand stroked your hair, fingers threading through damp strands as he studied your serene face now, in stark contrast to the fervent surrender of moments ago.

When his hands reached your arms, he paused at the sight of your wrists. The faint red marks left by the chains caught his attention, and his blue eyes darkened slightly. His thumb brushed lightly over the marked skin, and for a moment, he simply observed them, as if each line told a story he would keep to himself.

Without a word, Reed leaned in and kissed one of your wrists delicately, the warmth of his lips conveying something between reverence and silent possession. His eyes, when they lifted to meet yours, were laden with an almost hypnotic intensity, but he didn’t break the silence.

You tried to form a response, but exhaustion and comfort made it impossible. Reed adjusted the blanket around you, his hands still moving slowly over your skin in hypnotic motions, until you began to drift into sleep.

"You know you don’t have to go," he said almost casually, but the low tone carried a weight you couldn’t ignore.

"I’ll… when the storm passes," you whispered, already on the edge of sleep.

He chuckled again, but this time he said nothing. Reed held you closer, his face buried in your hair as his breathing slowed and deepened.

"You’re not going anywhere," he whispered, the words slipping into your mind like an invisible touch.

In the dream world, you found yourself lost in an engulfing darkness until a pair of intense blue eyes emerged, burning like liquid fire. They consumed you, each gaze heavy with desire and dominance, making you feel both vulnerable and cherished at once. The heat of those eyes felt as real as Reed’s body against yours mere minutes before.

Back in the room, Reed watched as you fell into a deep sleep, his lips curving into an almost satisfied smile. "My sweet angel," he murmured, more to himself than to you, as his fingers continued to stroke your hair.

In that moment, with the storm still raging fiercely outside and the silence filling the space between you, Reed knew he didn’t need chains or cages to keep you. You were already his, in body and soul – and he would make sure to remind you of that whenever necessary.

[arsonwithextrasteps]

A/N: it's my birthday today :D so I decided to write a birthday themed fanfic that's a little self indulgent, hope you all enjoy!!

TF2 Pyro x (gn) Reader

A Birthday Treat

Today was a day you’d been dreading for weeks, a day that happened every year, on the same day and always turned out the same. Your birthday. Most people had positive experiences with this day, celebrating it with friends or family or even using it as a time to treat themselves. 

But not you. 

You had the day off, you couldn't possibly think of going to work on your birthday, even if you didn't like the day you didn't want to spend it on your feet serving people who no doubt were having a better day than you. So here you were, at home rotting in bed trying to ignore the sun peaking through the curtains of your bedroom window and thinking about your life,  normal bed rotting thoughts. Giving a sigh to yourself, you wrapped yourself up more in the blanket trying to at least settle down for a nap. 

DING DONG!

You groaned, maybe if you just ignored it whoever it was would go away.. 

DING DONG! DING DO-DING-DING-DING-DING-!!

Okay that was getting pretty annoying. Soon you sat up, brushing your hair back (unless you're bald. Good for you) and fixed your pjs as you got up, making your way downstairs where that annoying sound was ringing out from the door. “ yeah yeah hold on–” you muttered annoyed as you reached out, opening the door. 

“HAMPHY MPHERDAY!!” came the enthusiastic, muffled voice of your fire loving friend, who threw up their arms before catching you in a hug, picking you up a little off the floor with a comforting squeeze. You laugh, not having expected it as they set you back on your feet before holding up a bag  that seemed full of…baking supplies?

You raised a brow as you let your gas masked friend inside, eyeing up the bag a little more as you shut the door. “Whatcha got there Pyro?” you asked finally, nodding to the bag. They only made their way over to  the kitchen, in which you followed, watching them place the ingredients onto the counter top and gesture to them. 

“mpherday mphhk!” 

“Birthday cake huh? We making one?” you asked, a smile gracing your lips at the thought that they'd gone through the trouble of grabbing the supplies to make a cake and came all the way into town for your birthday, just to bake a cake with you. Pyro nodded, pointing at you and making a heart with their hands. 

You smile more, feeling flattered. “You didn't have t-” they cut off your words, holding up a hand before shaking their finger. They were having none of it! This was a special day for their special friends and they would make it a good one for once!! You snorted a little at their dramatics, sighing softly before grabbing the both of you some aprons to wear. 

“ guess we better get started then huh?” you said back, which made Pyro nod clapping their hands before putting on their apron. 

Making the cake was.. Easier than you thought! What surprised you more was how good Pyro seemed to be at baking. Sure they needed a little help reading the measurement through the lenses of their mask, but other than that everything went as smooth as butter!

You were tasked with putting the cake in the oven, you were both mindful about Pyro and their fire making habits so they also understood why they weren't allowed to use the oven. Shutting the oven door, you grinned giving thumbs up to your merc friend, to which they gave a pair of thumbs up back. 

“Now to clean up…” you said looking at the empty egg shells on the counter, bits spilled flour and cocoa powder. Pyro huffed a little, they loved baking, but god they hated cleaning up afterwards… they normally just left the kitchen a mess for another merc to clean up. You didn't want to clean up either, but it had to be done-

You stopped mid thought, watching Pyro pick up some flour in their hand before staring at you. “...Pyro…” you said, squinting a little. They stepped towards you, even if they were masked you could sense the shit eating grin of mischief they had. “PyROO-!?” you squeaked dodging out the way as they threw the handful of flour in your direction. 

You shook your head, grinning “oh you wanna play like that huh?” you said grabbing your own handful of the powder, making them gasp and go to quickly grab another for themselves only to be met with a handful of flour to their masked face. You laughed, snickering at their poor stunned state, before screaming and giggling as they grabbed you. 

“NOOO COMMON  PYRO NOOOOAHHH-!!” you laughed out before squealing again as they slapped a handful of flour onto your head rubbing it in as payback, snickerning all the while as they held you.

“OKAY OKAY-!! You win!! I yield!!” you snicker as they let go of you, shaking their head to get  the flour off their mask, before grabbing a tea towel to wipe off the lenses. You patted down your pyjamas and apron to get some of the flour off before sighing. “Hang on, i'm going to change-” you told Pyro before heading upstairs again. 

After getting changed and cleaning up, you and pyro got to work making icing and frosting for the cake as it cooked and once it was cool enough you got to decorating. Sure it wasn't the prettiest cake, but the fact that you even had one for your birthday more than made up for it. The fact that Pyro made the effort to even be here with you. 

“Hey Pyro?” 

“Mpha?”

“..thanks for this i- ..yeah, thanks for being here” you smiled at them, only to be pulled into a loving hug and held there in their comforting embrace. You slowly hugged back, head resting against them as you smiled more. 

Maybe birthdays weren’t so bad, if they were there with you.

[verboselocket38]

Since Sinsmas came out It gave me time to think about this and I came to the decision I am no longer watching Helluva Boss and Hazbin hotel to make critical posts of it anymore.

I tried and tried and tried to bring my love for the show as I discovered it years ago to be there as I countinue watching. But as I did, my love turned to hate, and the story's writing went from a funny assassination buisness to a Gacha Life Story thats shoves fanfic tropes in ever hole of the story and is telling me "how I should like a character" without giving me the chance to think for myself how they appeal to me.

Since stans keep gaslighting me into thinking this show is good, glosses over Viv's bad behavior saying she "debunked" allegations when it reality she just denied it with no proof whatsoever, and how they attack anyone towards critisms. I am tired. I get the same old responses of people saying "Umm... If you dont like it dont watch it!"

I ignored it up till this point because guess what? I will. Because if this show is deemed as "Good writing", I might as well go somewhere else where Im not being gaslit and overtime have internal anger and irritation. One show justifies cheating and promote a higher class rapist relationship, the other is saying rapists and pedophiles can go to heaven if they feel bad about it. The fanbase and show is somehow both more mysoginistic than Adam COMBINED. And what pisses me off most is that NOBODY in the Vivziepop community EVER talked about Shay or the other people in the community who were bullied to suicide.

Anyway to end this off you might still see me lingering the tags or whatnot, but Im not posting any more things in the critical tag and just going to stop watching HH and HB, there is literally no point. I dont know if anyone actually will care that I leave the tags or if any of my points have ever made a difference, but from the year I've been here its been pretty ok from my experience. Imma just start posting Loonatics Unleashed rewrite stuff, Ocs, Ratchet and Clank, Sonic, or just things I like. I dont know if pepple will care that much for it as the critical stuff (The most notes I ever get are from these tags lol) but honestly I need time to meditate and control my feelings. With that being said, have a good day ❤️

[rist-ix]

Small Tbhtbh Snippet!

It's two weeks past the end of my internship and I still haven't gotten much done in the way of fanfic, so as compensation (and proof that im still writing!): Have A Snippet!

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

She walks through the Palace, past the portraits of past rulers and long-dead relatives, until she finds her sister.

The sculpture of her is half-crumbled. There must have been a window broken, in the walls of this tower, one that’s only recently been fixed, because wind and ice seem to have worn down the pale stone of the statue over time. Her face is unrecognizable, the edges of her mask reduced to jagged stumps. One side is worse than the other, like the wind came from her left.

But she knows it’s her. She’d know her anywhere.

“Talk to me,” Bloom says.

Her voice echoes in the room, small and alone. Bouncing off of glass cases and strange instruments, of paintings and smaller statues. It’s the only sound they’re introduced to – not even the howling of the wind can be heard from here.

“Talk to me,” she repeats. “Or am I boring you, when I’m not actively dying?”

It’s dark. No golden light weaving through the shadows, no otherworldly glow to disturb this artful mausoleum. The only light comes from behind her, through the doorframe she came through. Her shadow doesn’t even reach the podium Daphne’s sculpture was placed on, to loom over all else in the room.

“Is that what it takes to get your attention?” she asks into the darkness. “Tearing myself open? You used to haunt me day in and day out, once. Have you forgotten how?”

The worn down stone gives no answer; Daphne’s face remains blank. She looks away. At least some things stay the same.

“Or do you think it’s not worth it, anymore. Now that I know my powers, and am not bleeding to death.”

Her hands run over the dusty stone tables, past the mysterious utensils and metal instruments. She takes one up at random, but gets no closer to understanding its function. A strange assembly of metal plates and rings, with no discernible purpose. She runs her finger over the edge of it. It looks sharp enough to cut.

“You’re really unreliable, you know that?” she murmurs down at her own hands. The metal glints in the low light. Stray beams catching on its polished surface, travelling along its curves and edges. She places it back down.

“I guess it runs in the family.”

She breathes out, sinking to the floor. Her throat is sore and her nose is running, and the big woolen shirt she’s thrown on to ward off the cold looks ridiculous. Not that there’s anyone here who would mind. She leans back against the table, her head falling back against it with a thud. Her hand moves to cover the mark etched into her neck, always warm, no matter her surroundings.

“You’re mad at me,” she says. “Is that it? You threw your life away for me, and now I’m here.”

The silence doesn’t protest. It doesn’t accuse her, either. It ignores her, the way a good silence ought to. Stars. Her head hurts.

“No, you wouldn’t be,” she gives in, after a moment. It feels venomous, to blame someone who isn’t there to defend themselves. To accuse someone, when she knows better. “You never were.”

She sighs, and stares at her hand as if the red of Valtor’s Mark might have rubbed off on it, like blood. He’ll be looking for her soon.

“You should be,” she says. “I would be. In my place, you would have… I don’t know what you would have done. I can’t imagine you ever being in this position in the first place.”

Her hand curls into a fist. Nails digging into the soft flesh of her palm, one by one.

“I’m so angry at you,” she whispers.

There’s dust trailing through the air. Dancing through the feint light from the corridor. It’s candle light, buttery yellow, but to her it feels all wrong.

“You should have helped me. We were right there, at your doorstep. You should have stopped me. Known better.”

Her fist hits the side of the desk beside her, hard enough to make the wood crack and the metal tools clink, above her.

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

Frustration burrows into her like a splinter into flesh, deeper and deeper the more she tries to worry at it. There’s a warbling kind of growl in her throat, and she buries her face in her hands so she doesn’t have to look up.

“It’s my fault,” she struggles, “I get it. My choices, my consequences. But you were there too!”

The dust on her hands feels like sand, for a moment; the desk she’s leaning against like that rock she’d once been tied to. Roccaluce’s empty lake bed towering around them like the walls of a canyon, witnessing the most disastrous decision she’d ever made.

“You’re supposed to be older, wiser than me,” she rasps out, tasting salt on her tongue. “Or does that only count when it’s about the Dragon Flame? Is my life — my friends’ lives — just not part of your job description? Are we not worth the hassle for you?”

There’s no answer. No explanation. She’s not there anymore, in that drained lake in Magix, she’s here. In another lonely tower, housing another lonely girl. Granted, this one’s made of stone. She sighs again.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her hands sink to the ground, before she decides to hide them in her sleeves instead. She glances up at Daphne’s non-existent face, and wonders what she hoped to see there.

“But I did,” she tells her softly. “I’m the one who has to live with it. I can’t keep worrying about what you’d think of me. I’ll go crazy.”

Daphne doesn’t answer. A regular occurrence for dead people, she’s been told. She coughs out a half-laugh, rubbing her temples.

“Maybe I already did.”

She pulls up her knees. Up towards her chest, until she can hide them underneath that big sweater of hers. The cold is starting to seep through the fabric, but she hugs her legs to her chest and tries to preserve all the warmth she has left.

“That’s what I wanted to say to you, I think,” she muses aloud. Tightens her grasp on her limbs, sets her chin down on her knees. “You’re not here. You didn’t help me. There’s nothing I can do anymore.”

She closes her eyes.

“So it’s my life now, okay? You don’t get to judge me. Please.”

The quiet settles like the dust around her, once her echo rings out. Slowly, softly. This silence is a heavy blanket. She wonders what this room used to be. It’s been fixed up, so Valtor or one of the Trix must have used it, at one point. What meaning could it have held in the past, for Daphne’s statue to be standing here so prominently? Did she ever stand here, to look at her own likeness? Did she ever bring her here, those precious few days they had both existed in the same realm? She stares at the sculpture, and frowns a little accusatory.

“You really could stand to give me a sign, or something,” she mutters. “Ghosts shouldn’t be this stingy. Especially not royal ones. I’ve seen your treasury.”

Maybe this had been just another study, where old artwork was being kept. Maybe her sister had spent no more time here than she had. She lets her head sink again. Hides her face in her soft woolen collar.

“I miss you,” she says to no one.

She doesn’t say anything, after that. There’s a tingling feeling in her neck, and then a shadow cutting through the rectangle of light cast onto the floor.

“Bloom,” Valtor sighs. “There you are. You should be resting. What are you doing here?”

She looks up at the doorframe and waves at him, too long sleeves still dangling over her hands.

“Catching up,” she shrugs. Then she coughs again, making Valtor curse and stalk towards her.

“Catching another cold, more likely.”

“Well, this one is definitely your fault,” she reminds him, swatting away his hand when he attempts to feel her temperature. “So if anyone’s chiding anyone here, it should be me.”

“Yes, yes,” Valtor waves her off, sounding very un-chided. “You can still do that in bed, can’t you?”

“Oh hey, guess what else we could have done in bed? Instead of a dark, freezing corridor?”

His lips twitch in a way that implies he’s entirely remorseless. Whether it’s because he doesn’t regret getting her naked as quickly as possible, that night, or because he enjoys getting to fuss over her, she doesn’t know. She’ll sneeze on him first chance she gets, she decides either way.

“I do hope you get better soon,” he kneels down next to her, brushing the dust from her hair. “Being sick makes you very prickly.”

“Pah! I don’t need to be sick to– Hey! What are you doing?”

In one smooth motion, he’s used her distraction to pull her into his arms and stand back up, her legs dangling uselessly from his arms.

“You’re ill,” he smiles innocently. “Sick people shouldn’t exert themselves. I’m carrying you back to your room.”

She struggles vehemently against his grip, something that is made infinitely more difficult by those oversized sleeves of hers.

“If I walked all the way up here, and can walk all the way back do— Hmmmmm. Actually, never mind. You’re very warm.”

He is. Unfairly so, really. That floor was very, very cold, and whatever sneeze-related revenge fantasies she’s been harboring are promptly put on the back burner so she can burrow her face into the silky layers of his shirt. Valtor doesn’t move for a full five seconds. Then he looks up and promptly begins to walk.

“I rescind what I said,” he says, sounding far too happy with himself.

“You should catch a cold more often.”

She refrains from snapping back this time. That would require her to pull her face out of the very soft, very warm ruffles of his collar, and she’s decided that that has priority, now. It’s only when he pauses at the entrance that she deigns to look up again.

“…something wrong?”

She can’t see his face clearly. Half of her vision is taken up by pale swirls of silk and lace trims, but she can see his jaw above her, his lips pressed together pensively.

“I thought I locked this door,” he says, facing the doorframe. She doesn’t remember breaking a lock to get in, so she doesn’t answer, instead opting to burrow back into his warmth. If he wants to accuse her of snooping where she shouldn’t, he can wait until she’s back to fighting form. After a moment, Valtor shakes his head and walks on, lips brushing over her forehead.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Let’s get you out of the cold.”

[allovesthings]

The thing about the Devin Grayson arc in Nightwing is that on one hand, the storyline ends with Dick "taking responsibility for Tarantula". And that's very very bad. It's so badly handled. Why did she think it was a good idea to end it that way ?

But then you read the rest and there are several moments where it really feels like she knows what she is talking about and is treating it very seriously, like this:

Yes, he is thinking of Blockbuster...but also absolutely feels like he is not.

So you are left with this weird cognitive dissonance where the characters are saying things about Dick and Tarantula, the narrative is saying the same thing but also not at the same time ? And you read this and you're like: yeah, this is a reaction that could happen after being sexually assaulted? And the writer maybe want you to read it that way ? But also not ?

And I don't really know if part of it is her, editorials, a bit of both ?

This not me being completely critical of everything that happened during that arc by the way, I think for most of it, Dick is in-character (it's the other characters reacting to him that leaves me baffled), and his reaction to Blockbuster's death is great actually.

And Amy stopping him from confessing to a crime he didn't commit was such a good interaction.

Honestly Tarantula's point of view in issue 94 is kinda incredibly fucked up... but also interesting (I guess.. Honestly I couldn't find another word to describe it), I also really like the destruction of Bludhaven and how he reacts to it in the moment (one of my favorite Nightwing panel of all time is in those issues) and him training Rose to be a superhero under Slade's nose (that's so funny to some reason, I'll take small victories). It's so good and I think I prefer it to the version where he is in New York (although that's when Donna comes back so..).

I think the mafia part was kinda a bit boring but I like the reason as to why he did it.

Sidenote: Tarantula bringing him to an motel while he is maybe dissociative half of the time, getting him drunk and then trying to push him to marry her is so fucked up too and fanfics ignore that part also.

[therealcodfather]

Angry rant alert

I am so fucking tired of people drawing/writing Scar with no wheelchair.

If you're an artist, you got this far with drawing you can fucking learn how to draw one. It's not 'too hard' it's your own ignorance. I don't care if it's 'not canon' stop being a pussy and using that as an excuse and just say you don't wanna draw/write your sexy Scar that you drool over in a wheelchair because you think wheelchairs are unattractive. It's not a good look for you. If you're not doing it on purpose and it's subconscious you can unlearn ableism, I hope this is a wake up call.

I'm a wheelchair user and we already get no representation as it is. Do you know how heartbreaking it is to see like 90% of the fandom fucking ignore his wheelchair for the sake of not being bothered to learn how to draw it OR because they think it's unattractive?

Try and come up with an excuse, tell me why you think you don't have to draw/write him in a wheelchair. Yeah? You thought of one? What shitty excuse is it? Maybe it's because you're 'not talented enough' you can learn. Is it because you don't wanna be offensive and mess Something up? It's more offensive to ignore his disability. Is it because it 'wouldn't work in the fanfic/drawing' yeah well guess what? Wheelchair users have to go through that shit in real life. There is ALWAYS a way to make it work because WE have to. We have no choice. If your excuse is 'well I don't want to so I don't have to' you're openly admitting you're abelist. Maybe you're thinking 'oh well I'm not rude to disabled people' if you didn't dislike them or think disabilities are ugly tell me WHY you don't want to draw/write it then.

End of rant. Cosplayers are exempt from this, don't buy a wheelchair JUST to Cosplay. If you wanna still be mindful of his disability you could always do cosplay photos/videos sitting down, or you could make a model cane instead (which obviously isn't as good as a wheelchair and you shouldn't do that in your drawing/writing however if you're a cosplayer it shows you're still being mindful of it and not erasing it completely)

Edit because somebody is ALREADY being stupid: I don't fucking care if cc Scar said it's okay to not draw his Character in a wheelchair. Tell me why YOU don't want to. Tell me why YOU feel relief that he's said that. I wanna hear it.

As my wonderful Boyfriend said, it doesn't matter if you HAVE to draw it. Why don't you WANT to.

Edit 2: Hopefully last edit. I've been told that apparently some people were harassed for drawing Scar in a wheelchair 'wrong' and I want to say, fuck those people for giving people a hard time. As a disabled guy I would much rather people draw wheelchairs 'wrong' than not at all. Drawing them is hard! I literally use a wheelchair and I can barely draw them! Please don't let those awful people offput you from drawing a wheelchair. If you do it and post it and people get mean about it genuinely tag me and I will take care of it. I really do feel for people who don't do it out of fear, and for you this post is irrelevant. If you're too scared because of the harassment you or someone you know has faced, please try and get over that fear but that is an actually genuinely valid reason. I really do encourage you to draw him in a wheelchair though.

[not-poignant]

Hi,

I'm not sure how to approach this without sounding like an ignorant asshole, but I'll give it a go.

I'm from a country where the Trans movement isn’t very visible, and most of what I know about it comes from the internet. I’ve never truly understood gender dysphoria. I’ve tried to listen and put myself in others' shoes, but I struggled to be genuinely empathetic. Instead, I just tried to be supportive because it was expected of me, without really getting it.

It might sound silly, but reading Underline the Black made me stop and think… Wait, is this what I think it is? Reading Efnisien’s internal monologues and introspection made me feel something—maybe not from the same circumstances, but in a way that something inside my brain clicked, and I finally saw where the pain was coming from.

I guess what I really want to say is thank you. Thank you for helping me begin to understand and for broadening my perspective. It might sound small, but it’s something I deeply appreciate. I’ve been trying for a long time.

I do feel a bit foolish realizing that it took an ABO fanfic for me to get it… but at the same time, I was also reading about your real-life experiences. Or at least, that’s how it seemed to me. Forgive me if I’m wrong.

You have an incredible talent for expression.

Anon, until you know otherwise, everyone has to start somewhere. This applies to unlearning our biases and prejudices, which we all have for something, or many things, until we unlearn them. The fact that you've even tried to be supportive of something you don't really understand is still important, and still matters. It's a step into understanding, even if you don't have it yet.

I don't think it's foolish that it took you a story to realise what you've realised! This is actually exactly why representation of diversity (in gender, sexuality, culture, race, etc.) is so important in fiction. Because it's in fiction we can be free to explore concepts that are different to our own, or that challenge us, or make us see the world differently. This is why it's so important to know it's possible to identify with a trans character, or a POC character, or a character from a different culture to ours etc. Because that's when we humanise what we previously saw as like, different, Other, hard to understand. We go 'oh that's...really relatable actually, I think I'd feel the same way if that was my experience of life' or 'I don't know if I'd feel the same way but I really understand where that person is coming from.'

Gender dysphoria is complex, and different for different people. Being able to write it metaphorically through Efnisien's journey has been really interesting for me personally, because I've been able to depict both the inner conflict of knowing that your being is not...automatically going to be accepted as normal no matter what, unless you stifle or suffocate yourself, alongside the true euphoria and joy that can come with living as your best life, or your very self.

I have once seen a good analogy which is simply: Imagine from tomorrow onwards, everyone uses the pronouns you don't associate with yourself. You are bullied and mocked unless you wear clothing that is opposite to how you want to appear to others. You are put down and treated as psychologically abnormal for finding joy in true expression, even when that expression doesn't actually hurt anyone else at all. And now tell yourself that even your loved ones, when you desperately try to explain how wrong it all feels to be treated as so different to your true self, they explain that it's just mental illness, or that you're just confused, or that you don't understand yourself, and condescend to you, and treat you like they somehow have always known you better than you know yourself. And that's when you realise you might have to choose between your true self, and your family and loved ones who don't understand, or worse, hate you.

And then imagine that's the rest of your life, but it could change in an instant, if all of society just accepted that you are who you say you are! That all of your depression, and oppression, and suffocation could literally just vanish, if everyone was like 'oh sure actually, you want those pronouns? Cool! You want to wear this clothing? I like it!!'

And that journey is very tough in the real world, even in more accepting places (the US is clear evidence of this). In Underline the Black, I get to put Efnisien in a very specific space, and show the journey in a kind of specific way that isolates it and speaks through metaphor.

My experiences are different to Efnisien's, though I am trans, I never actually started out wanting to write a 1:1 trans narrative. Like, in this universe, "conventionally" trans people exist too. Efnisien's experience is a new thing, and a separate thing, but still - as we can see - a very good metaphor as well. I like telling parts of my story, but only small parts. I am more interested in...telling healing stories where I can watch a character heal and go 'oh I would like more of that for myself, as well.'

(Also, it's better to just say omegaverse, or AOB, etc. because a/b/o without the dashes is a slur in Australia, and while I know most people don't live here! We try to avoid slurs from other countries when we can. And we can only know to do that once someone tells us!)

But yeah, no, you don't sound like an ignorant asshole at all. You sound like someone who has learned something, and has gained more understanding, and was open to doing that, and honestly anon if more people came to something they didn't understand from your perspective, acceptance and love would be a lot easier to teach people.

It's so important to read stories about characters who aren't quite like us, or aren't like us at all, because that's when we realise just how much we actually do share so many similarities, and why our differences matter too.

Anyway thank you for sharing your message with me! I really appreciated it.