#one with four stripes and the other with three

[ichxgo]

The world comes back in waves again. This time, it stings. Sharp pain everywhere. 

Bleach. Antiseptic. Rubber gloves. Voices, low and clinical. Someone pries open his mouth, checks his teeth like he’s a damn racehorse. He’s striped, washed. His weapons have been gone since the first time he woke. What’s left of his clothing is dropped into a pile in a corner. He’s given clothing. Shorts. Too clinging to hide anything inside, too threadbare to keep him warm. Even unconscious he knows he’s freezing. Shivering and tied to a cot. 

When he wakes next, Ichigo groans through clenched teeth. Everything hurts. His ribs burn like they’ve been laced with fire, his leg is wrapped up tight, and his arm—fuck, his shoulder—someone popped it back into place rough. He can barely curl his fingers. 

There’s a sharp tug at the edge of his leg. Stitches. Fresh ones. Then someone touches him. 

Ichigo’s eyes crack open, golden brown and feral. He doesn’t speak. Just watches. Wary. Fighting the urge to go back under.

“Don’t fuck the merchandise,” someone warns.

Don’t fuck the merchandise.

He sees red, bright and blurry at the edge of his vision, and it takes everything not to lunge right then. He wouldn't make it far. He can wait.

They move him. When he’s brought into another warehouse, they take him to a side room—cold concrete, metal grate flooring. No windows. Chain on his ankle. Drugs in his system. Every time he moves the world rocks like a sloshing cup. Vision blurs. So he shuts his eyes. The door clicks behind them. 

He counts the seconds to stay awake.

Four come back with the doctor.

One crouches to check his restraints.

Ichigo moves.

The chain gives him just enough slack. His body screams, but rage is a great painkiller. He’s on the handler in a flash, chain around his neck. He drives the bastard’s head into the floor until something cracks. The others shout. One draws a weapon. 

Too slow. Ichigo tackles him into the wall, hands slippery with gore and hair.

It’s not elegant. It’s not quiet. It’s brutal. He sways, can’t get a lock on which direction is up or sideways.

By the time they overwhelm him, there’s blood everywhere. Three down, two more coming in. The others beat him back onto the floor, boot to his spine.

He laughs through the blood in his mouth, and he’s grinning when a crowbar smashes into the side of his face.

Everything goes black again.

“The military won’t touch him. Not even research. Too distinctive.” 

He’s tied to the bed this time when he wakes. Not the small cot, not something easily moved. It’s something bolted down. Plastic under him. The bindings are thick straps. There are still splashes of blood smeared on the walls and floor.

“Argentina pays better, but I want him out of here. He needs handlers with training you shits don’t have. Find someone to take him.” 

The new drugs are heavier. He floats in and out of awareness. When he’s awake, he’s sick. They put a patch on his neck. And then he isn’t sick, but he falls in and out of sleep without warning, doesn’t fight when he’s touched, and has trouble telling one face from the next. His limbs are weak. He can’t walk on his own. He barely cares. 

Word gets around fast that Shiro's looking for someone. The biggest drug lord in the country doesn't just start making calls without it getting noticed. He doesn't even know the guy's name but he knows what kind of work he does and he knows people who know people.

After spending what felt like an eternity digging through Ichigo's apartment looking for any clues about where he might have gone, he's pacing the hallway in a lap that begins in the kitchen, drinking Ichigo's liquor stash. He has a glass in one hand, his phone in the other, back and forth, back and forth, like someone in a cage. During one of his phone calls, his contact mentions Urahara's name and Shiro nearly spills his drink, he raises it so fast in eagerness about finally hearing what he wants to hear. "Ah! That's the fucker. Find him for me."

And suddenly there's a name going around, not just word.

No doubt Urahara hears he's being sought out before Shiro manages to track him down, because he doesn't seem surprised, just mildly amused, when Shiro shows up on his doorstep.

Shiro's been thinking about how to approach this guy for hours by now, but the moment he's face to face with him, all professionalism leaves. "Where the hell's Ichigo? Who did you send him after?" No preamble, no introduction. Expecting to have to buy this information, he has more cash on him than any sane person would carry around. If that fails, he's willing to fight for it. He might be a prissy rich bitch these days but he's as scrappy as ever and always needs a good, violent outlet. He wants Ichigo back and he'll have him one way or another.

[unnecessaryligatures]

Me flying anywhere: look it’s my blorbos (planes) from my show (Cabin Pressure)

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Child's Sock from Egypt, c.250-350 CE: this colorful sock is nearly 1,700 years old

This sock was discovered during excavations in the ancient city of Oxyrhynchus. It was likely created for a child during the late Roman period, c.250-350 CE.

Similar-looking socks from late antiquity and the early Byzantine period have also been found at several other sites throughout Egypt; these socks often have colorful, striped patterns with divided toes, and they were crafted out of wool using a technique known as nålbinding.

Above: a similar child's sock from Antinoöpolis, in Egypt, c.250-350 CE

The sock depicted above was created during the same period, and it was found in a midden heap (an ancient rubbish pit) in the city of Antinoöpolis. A multispectral imaging analysis of this sock yielded some interesting results back in 2018, as this article explains:

... analysis revealed that the sock contained seven hues of wool yarn woven together in a meticulous, stripy pattern. Just three natural, plant-based dyes—madder roots for red, woad leaves for blue and weld flowers for yellow—were used to create the different color combinations featured on the sock, according to Joanne Dyer, lead author of the study.

In the paper, she and her co-authors explain that the imaging technique also revealed how the colors were mixed to create hues of green, purple and orange: In some cases, fibers of different colors were spun together; in others, individual yarns went through multiple dye baths.

Such intricacy is pretty impressive, considering that the ancient sock is both “tiny” and “fragile."

Given its size and orientation, the researchers believe it may have been worn on a child’s left foot.

Above: child's sock from Al Fayyum, Egypt, c.300-500 CE

The ancient Egyptians employed a single-needle looping technique, often referred to as nålbindning, to create their socks. Notably, the approach could be used to separate the big toe and four other toes in the sock—which just may have given life to the ever-controversial socks-and-sandals trend.

Sources & More Info:

Manchester Museum: Child's Sock from Oxyrhynchus

British Museum: Sock from Antinoupolis

Royal Ontario Museum: Sock from Al Fayyum

Smithsonian Magazine: 1,700-Year-Old Sock Spins Yarn About Ancient Egyptian Fashion

The Guardian: Imaging Tool Unravels Secrets of Child's Sock from Ancient Egypt

PLOS ONE Journal: A Multispectral Imaging Approach Integrated into the Study of Late Antique Textiles from Egypt

National Museums Scotland: The Lost Sock

[skzdust]

Rock Will Never Die

Pure smut. MINORS DNI.

This took me almost three weeks. The season's greetings has been eating me alive. So. Omegaverse rock band ateez. 6.7k words of it, which is by far my longest smut. Please enjoy <3

Big thanks to @kpop---scenarios, who helped me decide which members were alphas/betas/omegas, and for generally helping on this one!!! I appreciate you sm!!

Update 2.26.25: Sequel! Go check out Whatever Will We Do?

Update 3.31.25: Second sequel! Go check out Worth It!

Summary: Y/n, manager of rock band Ateez, is out of heat suppressants after a show. Luckily, all 8 members of her band are there to help.

Pairing: Ateez x reader

Includes: omegaverse, LOTSSSSS of smut, porn without plot, omega reader, spitroasting, double penetration, knotting, unprotected sex (you did not come here for sex ed but please be safe irl!!!)

Word count: 6.7k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

You bit your lip as you pawed through your bag, looking for your suppressants. You could taste blood before you found the little orange bottle. You pushed down on it, opening the lid, and—

Empty. Not a single pill left. 

“Fuck.” You whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.���

“What’s wrong?”

You turned around. Mingi was standing there, freshly showered in grey sweatpants and a blue T-shirt, a concerned look on his face. 

He looked so fucking good, you restrained yourself from jumping at him then and there. You could feel yourself getting more and more desperate, and you swallowed.

“You smell really anxious.” Hongjoong looked over from where he was relaxing in an armchair, still in his stage makeup and outfit. His striped knit hat was askew on his head. 

“I— well—” You stammered. “I’m— God, this is embarrassing.”

“What?” Mingi raised his eyebrows. “It can’t be that bad.”

You gave a small, involuntary whimper. “I’m out of heat suppressants… and there’s one coming on.”

“Well, shit.” Mingi said softly. “That’s not great.”

“And it’s not like you can really stop it once it starts.” Hongjoong said. 

“Exactly.”

“Hey, calm down.” Mingi’s voice was soothing. “We’ll find a solution for this.”

“What?” You whined. “I don’t have an alpha, and we’re in a hotel, and I don’t have any of my—” You swallowed. “Er, stuff. What’s the solution?”

Mingi and Hongjoong looked at each other for a long moment. “I mean… we could help you.”

You’d been the manager of Ateez for about a year now. They’d always been incredibly talented, but they’d needed someone with your managerial and business sense to catapult them into the stardom they now enjoyed. 

And as their manager, to make sure they maintained that stardom, you had to keep close with them. Ride on the tour bus with them, stay in the same hotel rooms, go to all the same bars and after parties. 

(Okay, so maybe you had some personal motives to that, too. Maybe the members of Ateez were the eight hottest men you’d ever seen. Maybe you fantasized about the aspects of them you saw both on and off stage. Maybe you thought about them when you were at home on your heat days, fucking yourself with a toy.)

But you’d never thought you’d be alone in a hotel room with two of the group’s four alphas with no heat suppressants. 

Especially not with them offering to help you.

They must’ve noticed your hesitation, because Hongjoong smiled softly. “If you don’t want us to, we don’t have to.”

“No! No, help— help— please help me.” You stammered, then more quietly added, “I need you.” 

“Shit.” Mingi said. “You’re all desperate.”

“I’m going into heat.” You huffed. “Of course I’m desperate.”

“No, I know. It’s just hot. You want a knot?”

His teasing sent a wave of arousal through you. “Stop it.”

“I don’t think so.” He smirked. “I like watching you squirm, y/n.”

You could feel slick leaking out of your hole, and you bit your lip.

“Enough, Min.” Hongjoong stood up. “I’m the captain, I’m going first.”

“Aw, but I don’t want to wait.” Mingi pouted. 

“Contact the others while I fuck her, then you guys can watch while you all wait your turn.”

You gave a long moan from where you were still crouched beside your bag. Hongjoong looked at you. “Slut. You like the idea of all of us fucking you, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. Hongjoong had never talked to you like this before, always sweet and gentlemanly as could be.

“When you text Woo, tell him he owes me.” Hongjoong said to Mingi, but he kept his eyes on you. “She seems to like being degraded, so I won that bet. Get on the bed for me, pretty.”

“Bet?” You obeyed, getting onto the bed.

“Me and Woo have had some money on your kinks.” He said, as if this were a perfectly normal thing to do.

Mingi snickered. “Pervert.”

You were, inexplicably, into this, and Hongjoong could tell it made you hornier. He laughed. “You smell even sweeter. You like that? Me and Wooyoung talking about how we’d like to fuck you?”

“Mhm.” You whined. “Can— um, can…” You trailed off, realizing how desperate your request sounded. 

“Use your words.” Hongjoong climbed onto the bed, over you, trapping you beneath him. “What is it?”

“Can you fuck me at the same time?” You whispered. 

Hongjoong grinned, turning over his shoulder. “Mingi, you can tell Woo there’s a consolation prize for losing.”

You whined as he looked back at you. “Please, Joong. Alpha. Need you.”

He slid his hand into your hair and pulled you into a searing kiss. “Need you too, pretty. Take all those clothes off, you’re not gonna need them.”

You hurried to obey him, getting your shirt and skirt off as fast as you could. 

“Look at your body.” He murmured, his eyes raking over you. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You blushed, more slick leaking out of you. “Please, Hongjoong.”

“Ah-ah.” He raised his eyebrows. “You call me alpha, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” You whispered. “Please, alpha.”

He smirked. “How can I resist when you ask so nicely?”

You whimpered as his hand came down to rub at your pussy. His touch felt so good, and all you wanted was to whine and rut into his hand, but you restrained yourself.

“So well-behaved.” He remarked, pulling his hand back and rubbing his fingers together, watching your slick drip down his hand. “I just know you’re gonna feel so good around me.” With that, he pushed three fingers inside you, and you moaned. 

“Fuck, Hong—alpha.” You breathed. “Feels so good, alpha. I… I want your cock, though.”

“Greedy little thing.” He laughed softly. “You’re gonna fucking get it, aren’t you? So be patient.”

You bit your lip again as he began rubbing his thumb around your clit. “Does that feel good, pretty? Is that what you need?”

You swallowed. It was a trick question, and you weren’t going to answer it.

“Answer me.” He added a fourth finger. 

“Ah! Yes, it’s good, but I need more, please, Joong—alpha!” 

He sighed. “Can’t even remember what to call me. I guess I just gotta fuck that disobedience out of you, don’t I?”

“Yes.” You squeaked. “Yes, you do.”

Hongjoong pulled down his pants, freeing his hard cock. Your mouth began to water at the sight. He threw them across the room. “Mingi, when are the others coming?” You’d forgotten he was even there.

“Soon, I think.” 

You looked over Hongjoong’s shoulder to see Mingi watching you, his phone in his hand, practically drooling. 

“Good.” Hongjoong said. “I want to make good on Woo’s consolation prize.”

Fuck. He’d been serious? You couldn’t wait for Wooyoung to arrive. 

Hongjoong pushed his cock through your folds, coating it in slick. “So messy, pretty.”

You just watched him, breathing hard. 

He lined himself up with your entrance. You could just feel him starting to press himself in when there was the loud sound of a door opening. You, Hongjoong, and Mingi all turned around to look at it. 

San and Seonghwa walked in, both dressed in dark t-shirts and sweatpants. San’s eyebrows were raised as he took in the sight. “Oh, look at that, Hongjoong’s about to fuck y/n. What did you say, Mingi? She’s in heat?”

You could hear the smirk in Mingi’s voice. “Yeah, she’s definitely in heat.”

You didn’t even realize you’d started breathing so hard until Seonghwa walked over to you and put a hand over your mouth. “There. You can start, Joongie.”

“Don’t need your permission.” Hongjoong sounded a bit irked, but grinned at Seonghwa as he slid inside you. You moaned long and loud into Seonghwa’s hand. You felt so full… but it still wasn’t enough.

“Fuck me.” You asked, and it came out muffled, but Hongjoong could definitely tell what you meant because he laughed meanly.

“Is there something you want, pretty? Use your words, I can’t hear you.”

“Fuck me, alpha, please.” You tried again, and you could hear Seonghwa’s snicker. 

Hongjoong looked up at Seonghwa, pursing his lips. Seonghwa leaned down and gave him a long kiss. You were a little surprised. You didn’t know they did that. 

Hongjoong looked at you after a moment. “I guess I can start fucking her now.”

“You should.” Seonghwa took his hand away from your mouth. “She was about to bite my finger or something. She’s so fucking horny.”

You wanted to snap out that you were in heat, of course you were fucking horny, but you held back. You wanted to submit, to be a good girl (to be their good girl) more.

“Fuck.” San said from where he sat on the end of the bed. “Damn, she’s so wet, I call next.”

“I was here first.” Mingi said indignantly.

Hongjoong abruptly pulled his hips back before snapping them back into you. You gave a long moan. This was what you needed, someone to fuck you long and deep and hard, into the mattress, someone to fuck a litter into you, someone to knot you and breed you and—

San cut into your thoughts. “No, I said it first. You and I both know the second someone starts to dominate you you’re gonna want to be a good boy, so shut up before I have to punish you.”

San’s voice was smug, or you thought so, most of the thoughts had left your head as Hongjoong had started to fuck you in earnest. His cock was so big, and so good, and filled you up just right. You couldn’t fucking wait for him to knot you. 

Mingi and San went suspiciously quiet. Honestly, though, you didn’t even care who won the argument, who got your body next, so long as they kept going the way Hongjoong was going. 

The door clicked open again, and you whined as Hongjoong stopped. “Alpha, can you please— why’d you stop?”

“Wooyoung.” Seonghwa’s voice was practically a purr. 

You shivered. Wooyoung. 

“Hey, Woo, get over here.”

Wooyoung was in a black satin robe, a sash tied around his waist. His hair was wet, like he’d just gotten out of the shower. He smiled as he saw you. “Oh, God, you’re so gorgeous like this.”

“Right?” Hongjoong thrust inside again. “She feels so fucking tight. Want her mouth?”

Your eyes widened as Wooyoung smiled. “D’you want me, baby?”

“Yes.” 

Hongjoong pulled out for a brief moment to readjust, and you whined at the sudden emptiness. 

“Shh, pretty, it’s gonna be okay, you’ll be so full soon.” He murmured to you, helping you move so your head dangled over the side of the bed. You looked up to see Wooyoung untying his robe, revealing absolutely nothing underneath. He left it on, untied, as he gently pulled you close to him.

You were practically salivating at this point. His cock looked so good. He was gonna fill your mouth up, and Hongjoong—

Before you could finish your thought, Hongjoong pushed back inside you. You moaned, and Wooyoung took the opportunity to slide into your mouth. “So good for me.” He murmured, holding onto your hair. 

It felt so good, being full from both ends. “Fuck me.” You moaned, although it came out muffled and distorted around Wooyoung’s cock. “Fuck me, alpha.”

Hongjoong grunted and began to do as you’d asked, aligning his thrusts with Wooyoung’s so you were pushed back and forth between them. 

Through your cock-drunk haze you could hear Mingi whining. Your eyes darted over to him as best you could, only to see San pulling his cock out and slapping Mingi across the face with it before grabbing onto his hair. “Open up, slut.”

Mingi obeyed, his tongue lolling out. San groaned as he started to fuck Mingi’s face. Even just from glimpses you could see San’s cock was huge, much bigger than most betas. It was bigger than some alphas you’d seen, even.

You couldn’t wait for it to fuck you.

Hongjoong noticed. “Like watching Sannie fuck Mingi’s face, pretty?”

You moaned in the affirmative, spit leaking out around Wooyoung’s cock.

“Fuck, so messy.” Wooyoung sighed. “Such a good girl.”

That sent another shiver through you, and you looked up at him through your lashes. He sighed again. “Fuck, keep looking at me like that and I just won’t stop.”

You didn’t want him to stop. You looked at him for another moment before looking back over to San and Mingi, who were still… busy. 

Hongjoong and Wooyoung kept going as you watched them. San slapped Mingi, and as you watched his hands drifted down to his lap. San slapped him again. “No, bad boy. You don’t touch that alpha cock. That’s my job.”

“Fuck, San, tell him.” Wooyoung’s fingers tightened in your hair. “Make him be a good boy.”

Wooyoung’s commentary on San and Mingi’s oral was only making you wetter. It was really fucking hot to watch him make Mingi submit, and to see how whiny and teary Mingi got when he was being fucked, even in his mouth. You wondered what he’d look like with a cock at both ends. Like you.

Wooyoung and Hongjoong kept going, kept using you. Your body jerked between the two of them. You were mostly along for the ride. You could feel the slick between your legs as Hongjoong kept fucking into your pussy, and Wooyoung’s hands in your hair turned almost gentle, combing through it as he continued with your mouth. 

It was a nice contrast, Hongjoong rutting into you like a feral animal while Wooyoung stroked your hair and shallowly fucked your mouth. You closed your eyes. 

You opened them a second later as a loud whimper filled the room. You looked over to see Seonghwa yanking Mingi’s hair back, pulling him off San’s cock. “Sannie doesn’t get to cum yet, he’s not wasting it on you.”

Before you could see what they did next, Wooyoung’s hands suddenly fisted in your hair, pulling you down onto his cock. “Fuck, y/n, I’m gonna cum.” He held you in place, his hips moving madly. He was in your throat at this point, and fuck it felt so good to be so full at both ends, to be used so thoroughly by your band members. 

Wooyoung came, and you tried your best to be a good girl, to take it all, to let him use you, but you coughed as he pulled back.

“Good slut.” He whispered, leaning down to peck your forehead. 

You looked up at him with glazed eyes. “Good for you?”

“So good for me.” He smiled. 

You turned over your shoulder. “Please, need a knot.”

“A knot?” Hongjoong’s smirk was evident even in his somewhat breathless voice. “You want a knot, why not beg alpha for it?”

“Please!” You cried out, uncaring if you woke up the whole hotel. “Please, alpha, need your knot, need it so bad.” 

Hongjoong laughed, but it was more of a loud exhale with the effort of his thrusts. “I’ll give you a knot.”

He pushed into you, and you could feel something stretching you wide. 

Hongjoong’s knot. 

He came, deep inside you, his knot inflating. Wooyoung pressed a hand to your stomach, grinning at the way you felt full. “You really bred her, huh, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong reached around to hug you. “C’mon, pretty, relax with me.”

You hummed, pliant, laying down with Hongjoong as he curled up on the bed. Wooyoung joined you, pulling a blanket over your connected forms and cuddling into your other side.

“Thanks Woo, thanks, Joong.” You whispered. 

“No need to thank us.” Wooyoung kissed your neck, long and leisurely. “Always glad to fuck our favorite girl’s mouth. Whenever you want it.”

Hongjoong moved his leg, readjusting. You held back a moan at the slight motion of his cock inside you. “Yeah, we really should be thanking you, for letting us help you through your heat.”

“It’s not over yet.” You mumbled. “I’ve got a knot in me now, but as soon as it goes down… my heats tend to last some time.”

“Well, luckily for you, there are eight of us.” Hongjoong smiled.

The bed dipped as someone else got on. Wooyoung groaned in protest. “Hwa, let us have our moment.”

Seonghwa laughed softly. “I just wanted to join, not trying to ruin any moments.” 

You absently started to stroke Wooyoung’s hair with one hand while you reached out for Seonghwa with the other. 

Seonghwa smiled, leaning down to kiss you. “So beautiful, but you’re a needy thing, aren’t you?”

Out of the band’s members, you loved all of them in their own ways, but Seonghwa had always held a special allure. He was incredibly talented. The man played guitar and did vocals, none of the other members filled multiple roles like that. And he was sex on legs when he was onstage, singing duets with frontman San like they were in love. It drove the fangirls insane. 

And you, but that wasn’t something you’d wanted to admit until now. 

“Needy.” You nodded in agreement.

  Seonghwa gave you another, longer kiss. This one was sweet, but it had an undercurrent of seduction that yanked you in and kept you there. He was trying to turn you on again, and though Hongjoong’s knot was still locked inside you, it would not be a difficult task.

“Hwa… Joong’s still inside me.” You whined. 

Seonghwa bit your earlobe, making you twitch and gasp and arch your back. Hongjoong’s dick twitched inside you at that, and he groaned. 

“Well, as soon as he’s done, it’s my turn, isn’t it?”

The words sent shivers through you. “I thought San and Mingi were arguing about that.”

“They’re still… busy.” 

You looked over Seonghwa’s shoulder to see San sitting in the armchair Hongjoong had been in earlier, scrolling on his phone. His legs were spread, and Mingi knelt between them. “Don’t drool on my pants.” San said, his voice bored, but you could see the little smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Fuck.” You whispered. “That’s hot.”

“Mingi and San like to be rough.” Seonghwa smiled. “It’s quite fun to watch. You’ll have to join us more often.”

Hongjoong let out a strangled moan as you clenched down on him. You had no idea what they were, you had no idea what you were with them. You did know, however, that you loved them, and they loved you. And now everyone was fucking, you guessed? But whatever. It seemed to work.

And it seemed you’d fit in with them quite well.

 But you didn’t dwell on that too long, because when Seonghwa kissed you again, another wave of slick rushed out of you.

“Hongjoong.” You whimpered. “I need— I need—”

“I know.” Hongjoong kissed your neck. Wooyoung joined in, too, licking up the other side. “It’ll go down in just a second, and then Seonghwa can take his turn.” 

The phrasing, his turn, turned you on so much. Seonghwa, just like the others, got to use your body. They all would. 

You couldn’t help yourself, you rocked your body back onto Hongjoong’s cock. He hissed in overstimulation. You tried to be kind, to think of him, but your body just wanted to be fucked, more and more and more. You just held yourself back. 

They kept kissing you for a few more minutes, your body burning, until Hongjoong’s knot started to go down. You whined as he pulled out, suddenly empty. “Seonghwa…”

“I know, baby.” He got his pants off, and you almost started drooling at the sight of his long cock.

Seonghwa slid inside you, and you sighed at the sensation. “Fuck...”

Hongjoong and Wooyoung went off to shower, kissing you one more time before they left. Seonghwa set a languid pace, rolling his hips deep inside you. You were both panting after a few minutes, and you threw your head back. “Need it harder, alpha.”

Seonghwa laughed softly. “Alpha? I’m a beta, baby, but I’m happy to fuck you harder.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Sorry, Hwa, I didn’t mean to…”

Seonghwa stopped for a moment to kiss your head. “Nothing to apologize for. If anything, it’s kind of a compliment. But I know you need a knot right now.”

You swallowed, nodding.

Seonghwa thrust into you a few more times before turning over his shoulder with a sly smile. “Mingi, get your submissive ass over here.”

Mingi pulled off of San’s cock, his eyes heavily lidded, spit dripping down his chin. He looked obscene, fucked-out without even having been fucked. 

“You heard him.” San patted his cheek just softly enough to be a pat and not a slap. “Get over there.”

“Mhm.” Mingi climbed onto the bed, sitting in front of Seonghwa. 

He smiled. “Such a good boy… why doesn’t our good fuckpet satisfy y/n? Give her the knot she needs.” His voice was patronizing, condescending, but based on the significant bulge in Mingi’s pants, he was getting off on it. 

Mingi nodded. “Wanna be a good boy for you, sir. Wanna make y/n feel good.”

A shiver ran through you. 

“Why don’t you take off your clothes, then, and lay down on your back.” Seonghwa raised his eyebrows. “That’s not a suggestion, Mingi.”

Mingi squeaked, moving faster than you’d ever seen him move to get his pants and shirt off. He propped himself up on the pillows, looking at Seonghwa with wide eyes. You couldn’t take your eyes off of his cock, standing hard and full.

Seonghwa smiled and scratched his head. Mingi leaned into his hand. “Good boy. Y/n, why don’t you come ride him for me?”

You inhaled sharply and pulled away from Seonghwa’s cock, instead positioning yourself over Mingi’s and grabbing onto his shoulder. He looked at you with the most pathetic, desperate expression you’d ever seen. “Please, y/n.”

You sank onto his cock, moaning as every inch of it filled you up. He whimpered as you seated yourself fully on him, staying still for a moment to adjust to his size. 

“Go on, baby. Use him.” Seonghwa encouraged, voice smooth as satin.

You took a breath and began to bounce on Mingi’s cock, moaning as he hit that spot inside you with every motion. Like the rest of him, his cock was big, and you were euphoric as you felt it deep inside you.

Seonghwa tilted your head towards him. You didn’t stop fucking yourself on Mingi, but you looked at him.

“Aw.” He simpered. “So sweet. The subs are playing nice. You wanna kiss me, baby?”

You nodded enthusiastically, desperately. “Yes, Seonghwa.”

“Sir.” He reminded you.

“Yes, sir.” You rushed to correct yourself. 

“Good.” He murmured, leaning in. He gave you a long kiss that might’ve been sweet if he hadn’t started biting your bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth.

Mingi’s whines were a sweet soundtrack to Seonghwa’s kisses. He sounded so desperate and submissive, a far cry from the Mingi you knew onstage or even off. 

“Can Mingi fuck me now?” You whined against Seonghwa’s mouth. “I’m tired.”

“Of course, baby.” Seonghwa helped position the two of you so Mingi could start fucking into you. He rubbed Mingi’s back for a moment before suddenly scratching down his spine. Mingi moaned, arching his back and pushing his cock deep into you.

“Good boy.” Seonghwa whispered. “Y/n wants you to fuck her, so make sure you do a good job.”

Mingi began rutting into you with the same fervor that Hongjoong had, only with a lot more whimpering and big puppy eyes. “Am I doing good for you, sir?”

Seonghwa grabbed Mingi’s hair and forced him to look at you. “Ask her if you’re doing good.” He looked at you. “Baby, be honest.”

“Am— am I doing good?” Mingi’s voice was small.

“So full.” You said, your voice breathy. “So good, Mingi, Seonghwa… Mingi,  don’t stop.”

Seonghwa laughed meanly. “For someone with such a nice cock, it’s kind of funny how little Mingi uses it.”  He yanked his head back. “He loves being stuffed full so much. So I’m sure this is a nice change of pace for him.”

Mingi looked at him. “She’s so tight… I’m gonna… sir, I can’t last much longer.”

“Knot her. Give her what she wants.” Seonghwa leaned down to speak into your ear. “He’s gonna breed you so full, isn’t he?”

Mingi pushed into you one last time before his knot expanded and you were locked together. You could feel him start to cum inside you, and you whined, shaking as your own orgasm overtook you.

When you came back into reality, Mingi was collapsed by your side, breathing hard. Seonghwa was furiously working his hand on his cock, and you watched, transfixed. 

“Good boy, Mingi.” He breathed. “Good girl, y/n. You both did so good for me.”

You made a pleased noise, and that seemed to send him over the edge. He spilled onto his fist, his hips jerking up into it.

“’M sorry I wanted a knot.” You muttered, feeling bad Seonghwa didn’t get to finish inside you.

“Don’t apologize, baby.” Seonghwa said, looking around for a towel. “You have no idea how much I like watching.”

Your face got hot at the words. “Oh… well… that’s good.”

He finally found one, wiping off his hands. Mingi wrapped his arms around you as Seonghwa laid down on your other side. You were sandwiched in a giant Minhwa hug, and it was heavenly. 

You didn’t quite fall asleep, but you were definitely drifting off cuddling with them. Having a knot inside you and two of your eight favorite people in the world with you made you feel happy and safe.

You heard the door open, but you didn’t care enough to look and see who it was, at least not until someone came over to you, and you heard two people messily kissing.

You opened your half-asleep eyes to see Mingi and Yunho making out, almost directly over your face. It was quite a sight to wake up to, and you moaned almost without realizing it. 

They broke apart, both smiling down at you. 

“Hi, sunshine.” Yunho leaned down to peck your forehead, and Mingi adjusted, moving his cock inside you. You whined at that, oversensitive but your body still craving more. 

They ignored you, kissing each other again. You could feel Mingi’s knot starting to go down, and you pushed yourself back onto him, chasing the fullness. It was too late, though, he was pulling out, whispering an apology to you. “Sorry, Yunho’s gonna go next, though, okay?”

Your body was so hot, the ache between your legs so strong that you just looked at Mingi with big eyes. “Is he gonna fuck me?”

Yunho laughed. “Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll just make you lay there and stay still. Hold me deep inside you.”

You take a deep breath, trying to keep it together, but Yunho continues.

“You just wanna get fucked so bad, isn’t that right, you want me to breed you and make it feel so good… maybe I’ll just make you take me the way I want it, hm?”

You knew Yunho was an alpha. But he’d always been sweet and kind to you. He’d never teased you like this.

His large hands moved over your form, caressing you, your tits, your waist, your ass, rubbing your pussy. You stretched out, opening yourself up to all of him. 

He laughed and unzipped his pants, revealing his cock straining against his boxers. You whimpered just looking at the bulge. 

“Stop teasing, Yunho.” Seonghwa’s voice was playful. “Don’t you see how much she needs it?”

You gave Seonghwa a grateful look before turning your attention back to Yunho. “Please, Yunho.”

“I love your begging.” He smiled, but there was no kindness in it. It was toothy, almost predatory. He completely took his pants off and positioned himself over you like he was about to fuck you. His boxers were still on, and the cotton rubbed against your clit as he rubbed against you. You whined weakly, feeling almost dizzy with the need to be full.

“What did I say, Yunho.” Seonghwa’s voice was firmer now. “She’s in heat. Be nice.”

Yunho sighed, and before you knew what he was doing, you were flipped on your stomach, your knees propped up under you and your face pressed into the pillows. 

“You wanna get fucked?” Yunho’s voice was almost a growl. Clearly he was not happy at Seonghwa’s interference. “I’ll fuck you, sunshine.”

A thrill went through your body at his roughness. You could feel his tip at your entrance, and you took a deep breath. 

Yunho pushed inside in one swift motion, and the breath you’d just taken whooshed out of your lungs. He was so deep inside you, so big, so good…

And then he started moving. With every deep thrust, you felt like you might cum that second. He was so rough, his fingers digging into your hips. You knew for sure there would be bruises the next morning. 

Yunho fucked you like he hated you, and as he leaned over your back, you could feel he was still wearing his sweater and buttons from the show. The pins felt cold on your back, and you shivered. 

“You like it like that? You like it when I fuck you rough?”

You nodded. “Yes, alpha.” 

“You know, you really should share with Sannie.” Seonghwa’s voice was light, lilting. “He’s been waiting so patiently.”

You could hear rustling behind you, and a whimper that sounded like Mingi’s. It was probably San standing up, and you wondered if Mingi had returned to sucking him off as soon as his knot had gone down and he’d left the bed.

Yunho fucking growled. 

You whined, the display of dominance turning you on more, but the rest of the room went silent. 

“I’m so sorry.” Yunho said immediately, stilling his hips. “Oh my God, I did not mean to do that.”

“It’s okay.” San said, and he sounded genuine. “Take your time with y/n, I’ll get my turn after.”

You did your best to stay still, trying not to ruin their conversation, but you needed him fucking inside you. 

“Thank you, San.” Yunho’s voice turned to you. “You alright, sunshine?”

“Mhm.” Your voice was small. “Yes, Alpha.”

“You want more?” Yunho’s voice turned smooth, slippery. 

“Yes.” You breathed.

“Yunho?” 

You pushed yourself up from the bed at that voice. “Yeosang?” You hadn’t even heard him come in.

But there he was, sitting cross legged on the bed beside you. You could see the fabric between his legs was dark, clinging to his thighs with slick. 

“What is it, baby?” Yunho hummed.

Yeosang bit his lip. “I fear… y/n may be sending me into heat.”

Your head nearly spun at that. One omega sending another into heat was not something that happened often, not unless the pheromones were just right. It had to be the scents of the alphas in the room who’d already fucked you who had a relationship to Yeosang, right? It couldn’t be you?

Yeosang smelled sweet, smelled needy. You whined. 

“Hey, Sannie? I have an idea.” Seonghwa said. “Why don’t you fuck Yeosang while you wait your turn.”

“Fuck.” San sighed. “I would love to, but I gotta keep disciplining this little slut for now.” There was a strangled noise from probably Mingi. 

You could hear Seonghwa’s smirk in his voice. “Joong? Wanna get over here and fill Sangie up?”

“I can do that.”

You’d almost forgotten about Hongjoong and Wooyoung. You looked around for them and saw Wooyoung laying on the other bed, watching, as Hongjoong got up to position Yeosang beside you. 

He smiled at you. “Hi, y/n.”

“Hi, Yeosang.” You breathed. He was so beautiful, still in his stage makeup, with bronze blush and little star freckles dotting his cheeks. “You’re so pretty.”

“You’re pretty.” 

“Can I kiss Yeosang?” You looked over your shoulder at Yunho.

He laughed, thrusting his hips into you. Your head fell back on the pillow in front of you. 

“Yeah, you can kiss him.”

You pulled your head up and looked at Yeosang for a moment, just taking him in. His expression went blissed-out for a moment as Hongjoong slid inside him, and you took that opportunity to pull his face to yours and kiss him.

“Mm, y/n.” He moaned into your mouth. “You taste so good.”

“Wooyoung.” You explained. 

You and Yeosang kept kissing, your hands slowly getting a little more exploratory with each other, while Yunho fucked you and Hongjoong fucked him. It felt so fucking good to have him inside you, and to have two pairs of warm hands on your body. 

You were dimly aware of Seonghwa moving to the other bed, and based on the sounds you were hearing he was touching Wooyoung, but you were too caught up in Yunho and Yeosang to really care. 

You could barely breathe for the size of Yunho’s cock inside you. He wasn’t quite as big as Mingi, but he still felt delicious inside you, hitting spots inside you that made you sigh and whine in pleasure. This was a side of him you’d never seen, and it made you feel so good.

“Fuck me.” You whined. 

“I am, sunshine.” Yunho gripped your hips tighter. “You’re already kissing Sangie, do you need someone else to come over and shut you up with their cock?” His voice turned into a whisper that edged on a growl. “No one else is touching you till I’m done with you.”

Yunho’s possessiveness was really fucking hot. He was a man possessed, fucking you with the fervor of an acolyte worshipping their god. 

Yeosang whimpered, and you looked at him. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears beading at their corners, and his mouth was wide. You wondered what he’d look like choking on someone’s cock— Mingi’s giant one, maybe. Although it seemed from what Seonghwa had said he wasn’t going to be fucking anyone’s face. Maybe they used Yeosang as a punishment. He’d have to hold Mingi in his mouth while Mingi stayed completely still. You could see it in your mind’s eye, Mingi looking at Hwa or Hongjoong and absolutely begging to thrust down Yeosang’s throat, and them denying him time after time. Maybe he’d even cry.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a particularly rough thrust from Yunho, and you cried out as you felt his knot starting to build at your entrance. “Fuck, Yunho, knot me, please.” You cried. 

“Beg a little harder.” He snarled. 

“Please, please, Yunho, please!” 

“That’s it.” He held you in a punishing grip, forcing his knot into you. You held your hand to your stomach, feeling the bulge of him inside you. He began to cum, groaning, and your orgasm hit you at the same moment. You arched your back, pushing you into a kiss with Yeosang, who returned it with a whine.

Yunho slumped on top of you, pressing a kiss onto your back. “You feel so fucking good, sunshine. Taking my cock so good.”

You sighed. “You feel so good, Yunho.”

The door opened one more time. You knew who it had to be. 

“Jongho.” San said. “Welcome to the orgy!” 

You could smell him as soon as he walked into the room. You’d forgotten he’d started entering pre-rut right after the show, and had decided to sequester himself in his room. It seemed Mingi’s text had encouraged him to come take a turn with you. 

Yunho’s knot went down quickly, deflating at the scent of another alpha clearly ready to fuck you into submission. The look in Jongho’s eyes was downright predatory, but the rest of his expression looked a bit nervous. He was chewing on his lip. “Hey y/n… do you still… need someone?”

You could feel yourself growing distressed at the sensation of so many ateez member’s cum leaking out of you. “Yes, Jongho, please, I need you to fill me up.”

Jongho’s clothes were off him in a flash, and he was on top of you. You were briefly worried that Yunho would get aggressive again, but he seemed spent, moving to take your place making out with Yeosang on the other half of the bed. 

“Not so fast, Choi.” San stood up. “I’ve been waiting though everyone else, it’s my turn.”

Jongho looked thoughtful for a moment. “What if we shared?”

San raised his eyebrows. “I’m listening.”

“I’ll get inside her… and then you can join me.” He looked between your legs. “I think her little hole can take it.”

You clenched around nothing, breathing hard. The thought of both of them inside you at the same time, fucking you in rhythm, was almost more than your heat-addled brain could handle. You needed them so bad you could barely even get out a whine, your desire choking you.

San smiled. “I like that idea.”

Jongho lined himself up with you, everyone’s cum and your slick making it an easy slide inside. You still gasped as he filled you up. Jongho was so thick, you wondered how San would fit. 

“Fuck.” Jongho’s voice was low. “I’m gonna knot you so hard.”

You took a shaky breath, lifting your hips weakly in an effort to get him to move. 

He laughed and grabbed your legs, starting to push in and out. Your eyes started to lose focus. 

“San, get over here.”

You weren’t even paying attention to how they were positioning themselves, your eyes fixed on the ceiling, but you could feel a finger enter beside Jongho’s cock. 

The stretch was so good. It was intense, but you could handle it. You wanted more. You wanted both of them. 

“More.” You choked out. 

“Slut.” San bit out. “I’ll give you more.” He bypassed two fingers and skipped straight to three. “Good, taking it so well. You’re gonna need to be prepared if you want both of us.”

“Want both of you.”

San sighed. “So impatient.” You could feel something bigger pressing at your entrance, beside Jongho. San swore, Jongho made a high noise, and you panted as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. 

“Beautiful.” Jongho reached down to brush away a piece of your hair. “Beautiful girl.”

You made a pleased noise.

And then you couldn’t make any noise at all as they began to fuck you, alternating thrusts. First San’s cock, then Jongho’s, then San’s, then Jongho’s. It was so much, and the rhythm was uneven at the beginning, making it even nicer when they settled into it. You were overstimulated, your body trembling and leaking slick and taking it so well, as Jongho and San kept telling you.

The room had descended into debauchery. Hongjoong and Yeosang were still going at it, with Yunho stroking Yeosang’s cock. Seonghwa and Wooyoung had begun to fuck Mingi from both ends, and he looked like he was in heaven. And of course Jongho and San were both deep inside you.

You hadn’t expected your night to go like this, not even a little bit, but you were so glad for the turn it had taken.

Jongho groaned. “I’m gonna cum, Sannie.”

San sighed. “Ugh, fine.” He moved up towards your face and held his cock in front of your mouth. “Get me off, y/n.”

You practically started salivating at the sight of his cock, opening your mouth and starting to lick at his tip. 

Jongho gave a few more strong thrusts before his knot inflated. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he locked himself inside you and started to cum, weakly sucking on San. 

As your orgasm passed, you flopped on your back, completely exhausted. 

“It’s okay, baby, I can finish myself off.” San whispered, kissing your forehead. “You were so good for us.” 

You finally felt satiated for the night, satisfied, now that all eight of your boys had had the chance to take a turn with you. Your heat hadn’t broken yet, but you felt safe now. If you had them with you, everything would be okay.

And as the rest of them finished up and crawled on the bed to cuddle with you and the others, you thought that this was what a pack must feel like. 

[writerpeach]

Hauteur

LE SSERAFIM Kim Chaewon x m! reader

14k words

---

Read on AO3

“God, you’re so bad at this.” 

“Yeah, no shit, Chaewon.” 

“Like, really bad, you know? Like you should not be allowed to play this game bad."

You’re already down three games, struggling not to scratch again as you aim for a different colored ball this time—somewhere, anywhere, but in the goddamn pocket. Safe to say, things are not going well tonight. 

“Shut up, Chae—you’re distracting me.” 

"No fucking way I am," Chaewon fires back, not missing her mark as a striped ball clacks into the side pocket, almost mocking your failed attempt. “What’s your excuse for losing the last three games, then?” 

“I just need to get warmed up, that's all—"

"Will that come before or after the sun comes up?" she asks, planting her stick against the floor and sliding closer. "It's okay to admit you're bad at this."

You grit your teeth, fueled by frustration, and slam your pool cue so hard the table rattles as the white ball shoots forward. Almost in slow-motion, it ricochets right off the side—failing spectacularly, right back into the eight-ball that spirals into the corner pocket.

Chaewon can't stop laughing.

“Oh look, you finally sunk one in.” You're left standing there, hands gripping your cue stick so tight your knuckles have turned white. "And that's game four."

You're about to snap the pool cue in half right here, then and there. You're fuming; Chaewon is eating all of this up, covering her mouth before taking a sip out of a beer bottle that's almost empty.

"Rematch. We're going again," you hiss out.

"So I can humiliate you again? What's the point? You can't beat me. And you owe me how much, exactly? Pretty sure your entire week's pay is gonna get fucking wiped after this.”

"Then one more game. Double or nothing." 

"Oh sweetie, you're cute. I can't take more of your money. At this rate, you're not gonna have enough to pay rent.” 

"Chaewon—" you nearly growl, gritting your teeth again. "Double. Or nothing."

Her eyes widen with curiosity, an amused smile tugging on those lips of hers while you wait for an answer. This soft little sigh escapes as Chaewon takes another sip out of her beer bottle, looking you over from the other side of the table.

"That's boring. Let's make this more interesting," she proposes with a devious grin on her lips, drinking some more before setting the bottle on the edge of the pool table. Chaewon doesn't let her confidence falter, eyes never looking away from yours—leaving you wondering what devilish thoughts have taken her. “Raise the stakes, shall we?” 

You stare at her with a raised eyebrow. 

"Loser does whatever the winner says. Within reason, obviously. If I win, and I will—“ There's a mischievous spark in those eyes. Whatever it is, Chaewon wants you to bite. “If I win, I get you. For a week. When and wherever I want."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"I thought that would've been pretty obvious. One week where you can't deny me,” she starts, that annoying smug smile still plastered on her face while she carefully gathers up all the multi-colored balls into the wooden triangular frame. A quick run down the length of the green felt, and she continues, grabbing the white ball out of a little pocket and moving over to her side of the table. "Whatever I desire." 

There's something about the way she enunciates every word that makes you shiver. You shouldn't take this bet, no way—there's a hundred reasons why that's a bad idea. Because you already know the outcome. 

Chaewon turns back to meet your eyes again. "Seven days, you’re at my whims. So you can be my footstool, errand boy, or whatever else I wanna do—you don't have a say. Maybe I wanna jump on your cock whenever the mood strikes? Or make you go down on me in the middle of lunch at that cute little cafe downtown? Anything I want—you do."

That's the most preposterous thing you've ever heard—you'd have to beat Chaewon just to stand a chance, which you know is nothing short of impossible. But you can't back down, and you can't shake the urge to wipe the smirk right off that little brat's face, to find some sort of satisfaction in watching her sweat. 

Yet Chaewon can sense the hesitation and does her best to persuade you further. 

She takes her position at the far end of the table with her pool stick behind her, getting ready to break again. “If you manage a miracle and win, then consider your debt cleared. And for a week, your rules, whatever your little heart desires. Fair, isn't it?"

You shouldn’t—you know better not to agree to her proposition. Not to give the enemy an opening. And yet, your pride refuses to let you do anything less. "So, I get anything? For an entire week?"

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?" she responds, rolling the cue ball ever so gently as she decides where to position her stick.

"You're pretty confident, Chae. This could go badly for you. Maybe next time I see you, it’ll be in the tiniest bikini I can find. Or just lingerie. Something real easy to tear off."

Chaewon laughs, keeping her eyes locked on yours. "Considering the performance I've seen tonight from you? I'd say a loss is practically impossible."

Yeah, there’s no way you’re backing down from this. "Impossible? Fine, you're on. Hurry up and break so I can win." 

Oh, she's going to regret this. 

Shifting her posture, Chaewon bends over the pool table rather seductively as she lines up her shot. When she takes a glance over, your eyes stay glued to those tight fucking shorts—they hug every single curve of hers, giving such a good view of her ass. 

"Unlike you, I know what I'm doing. I’m not the same girl you knew two years ago that used to help you boost cars and drive away from cops. Now, are you gonna keep staring at my ass, or can I take this shot?"

You don't respond. She breaks hard, the crack of her stick echoing through the whole pool hall, scattering the colorful balls all over the table—two go in, one striped and one solid.

"Which one are you calling, sweetheart?"

"Doesn't matter, pick one," you respond, determined not to give up any reaction whatsoever to Chaewon. "I'm winning either way."

Chaewon just cackles, reaching over to take a sip of her second beer bottle before taking position to line up her next shot. "I'll stick with my stripes then. Can't wait to have you call me master and kiss my feet for the next seven days, loser."

"In your dreams, Chae."

"I better start thinking about all the names I'm gonna call you then," she taunts, circling around the table to find the best spot to take her next shot. "You're gonna be such an obedient little pet for me."

You stay silent, because you're not giving her a modicum of satisfaction. And with ease, she's banking shots left and right, showing no mercy and striking her next target right on. No less than three balls in a row, gaining momentum before she takes a moment to bask in the glory. 

"Don't worry, baby, we'll have so much fun. I think you'll look so good on your knees, licking my boots. Giving me foot rubs for an entire fucking week. Wow, I can't wait—"

Chaewon sounds so convinced she has this in the bag, and just the thought of her acting like you’re already her little pet gets you even more infuriated—that bratty tone, how she’s predicted that you’ve already lost, as if you're a simple means to her every desire. 

"Don't get ahead of yourself," you fire back, because you're not going to let her get in your head. That's what Chaewon is so good at, but you shove those thoughts aside, watching her land another shot into a side pocket, taking another sip of her beer afterwards. That's five shots down, only three to go—and it's all been her.

"Please, I've already beaten your pathetic ass four times. I'm not even trying anymore." Chaewon moves to the next striped ball, and with no difficulty lands it in, wasting no time after that to line up her penultimate ball—an easy angle, an effortless shot. She's merely two balls from putting you in hell for a full seven days.

You watch with bated breath as her arm raises, stick held in position before colliding hard against the cue ball—despite her near perfect technique, it rolls erratically, missing its mark as the orange striped ball veers off course, hitting the bumpers and missing its intended target.

Her brows furrow. 

You try to hold back a laugh. "Nice shot."

"Fuck off," Chaewon hisses. She takes another sip of her beer to relieve herself before staring down the table without any concern. "Angle was all wrong, that's all. Not like you have a chance anyway, pet." 

She's not exactly wrong—if you miss, Chaewon only needs two easy shots to secure the game, and you have a long road ahead of you, not even having your first turn until now. But it's not as dire as it seems, given that most of the striped balls are out of the way, leaving you with a plethora of options.

Still, you have no room for failure. Even if you manage to knock one or two in, you have no margin of error. One tiny mistake can cost you your freedom for an entire fucking week. How were you ever lured into this?

But you can’t give up before even getting started, letting those thoughts fly away. You find an ideal spot and sink your first shot, a smooth roll, falling clean into the side pocket. Chaewon seems fairly unimpressed when you look up. Not that you expected anything less. 

"Lucky shot. First time you've sunk one in all night."

Maybe it's luck that gets you a second one too. And a third one right after that. Then Chaewon's expression does start to fade into one of annoyance and disbelief, watching a fourth shot sink right in front of her. But unlike her, you don’t get cocky. All it takes is one mistake for you to forfeit the game, and the rest of the week, too. 

Halfway there. You feel the tension rising, but steel yourself, because you have no plans of getting your lips anywhere near Chaewon's fucking feet in the foreseeable future. A rival ball nearly bounces in after you sink one into the far corner pocket, rolling a razor's width before coming to a stop, sending your heart dropping for a split second.

"Cute little streak you’ve got going on. Don't get too comfortable.” 

Again, you ignore her, knowing that any response will set Chaewon off even more. The brat wants attention you’re not giving. 

One by one, you sink each colored ball, until you’re one away from catching up. Chaewon only offers the bare minimum in acknowledgement at the sound. One shot, that's all you need to take away her advantage, but one misstep will cost you everything. 

Another deep breath. Your neck is tense, beads of sweat forming on your brow as you approach the green ball on the other side of the pool table. Not even looking at Chaewon, you pull back, line up—

And miss.

The little bastard completely flies off target, bouncing in the opposite direction, right into the bumper with bad intentions, almost smacking directly into the eight-ball. 

"Looks like your lucky streak ends there," Chaewon says, hardly hiding a grin as she takes a long swig of beer. "Too bad, loser. I wonder how you'll look in a maid outfit." 

She’s hesitating, as if victory is a sure-fire thing, with no chance of any other outcome, eyes staring directly into yours when lining up her next shot, brushing a loose strand of hair back.

"I know you're gonna be a good boy for me.” 

Breaking eye contact only for a split second, she aims the end of her stick right towards the final striped ball left standing. Her grip is steady, and a few heartbeats later, Chaewon swings back, causing the little white ball to roll down the felt field at a sharp speed.

Clack.

She doesn't give it a second glance, her eyes staring into yours—lips parted with that annoyingly smug smile on her face as the ball spins its way home, leaving you in dreaded anticipation.

But that lone striped ball betrays her. 

To Chaewon's absolute dismay, she looks down, waiting for the purple striped ball to plummet into the abyss, only to see her victory denied. It taunts her—merely grazing the corner pocket, still standing upright, close enough to convince you both that it could drop with so much as a sneeze. 

Neither of you can even fathom what's just happened. Her hands grip her pool cue stick tightly, as she looks around, clearly trying to find someone else that must've screwed this up for her. Surely, no way could her perfect little plan fail now.

"F-fuck. Fuck!" she protests out loud, still in awe as the ball remains in position, mocking her in defiance. "This table sucks! It’s broken, stupid piece of shit!"

"Too bad, loser."

"Shut the fuck up! As if you have a chance of winning. I'm still gonna enjoy having your head between my legs, all week, idiot," she fires right back, seething with every word that leaves her lips. Defeated by hubris, Chaewon's demeanor shifts fast. But you don't have time for her tantrum, approaching the table to end this all. 

Three balls stand in your way, and now you have the same chance Chaewon did moments earlier. You’re going to silence that bratty mouth once and for all.

She's fallen prey to arrogance, which is a mistake you're not making. With intense concentration, you ignore the foul swears that overpower the surrounding music, and line up your shot—then gently tap your way to glory. Another successful shot, a few colorful curse words from Chaewon, and you're free to move to the next. The final obstacle: the eight ball.

"Wait, w-wait a fucking second—hold on. Time out. Let's talk about this," Chaewon says, desperately, stumbling on almost every single syllable. "What if we just call the game here? Call it a draw and just walk away?” 

Oh, she's desperate. Once the realization hits, Chaewon goes into total panic mode. That calm, cocky demeanor is gone, replaced by this girl on the verge of losing it all, watching your pool stick line up one last time. 

And your smirk only grows when you look back up at her.

"No. This was all your stupid idea in the first place, brat. Eight-ball, corner pocket." 

Your cue hits the last ball with force, shooting right past Chaewon—who can only watch it careen its way into the corner of the pocket you've called, the white ball right on its tail, dropping the eight-ball in behind with a loud, satisfying thump.

She stays silent.

There's no immediate response. Her arms are crossed over her chest, eyes glaring at the last two balls scattered all over the felt. And not a single one belongs to you. 

Chaewon looks devastated. "Y-you," she stammers out. 

Her smirk is gone. Her cocky attitude washed away, reduced to an expression of pure, unadulterated rage. "How—how the fuck did you—"

“Lucky shot, I guess.” 

“For the entire fucking game? No, you—you hustled me! You fucking cheater!”

You take another swig of the beer bottle you were sipping on earlier—almost finishing it as your eyes remain locked, focused. Chaewon's hands tremble with anger, knuckles tight around the pool cue as she holds it between her hands, pointing it towards you like a knight’s spear. 

Her expression darkens with a furrowed brow and clenched teeth. And she's fuming, ready to explode any second, yet can't find the words to lash out—

“I’m fucking awful at this, just like you said. Right?"

Chaewon goes silent—or maybe too angry to reply as she stalks you closer, stealing the beer bottle right from your lips and finishing it off with a few big gulps until it’s empty. And then she slams it so hard on the felt surface you worry it's going to shatter all over the place. 

"I don't know how you managed to pull it off. I was clearly winning the entire fucking game, how could you have possibly—"

You cut her off mid-sentence. "Nobody likes a sore loser, Chaewon."

"I'll show you a sore loser, you little—" 

She holds the glass bottle like a dagger, threatening you with it as your eyes narrow on hers, refusing to show a moment of weakness. You're not going to give her that satisfaction.

"Just admit it. You lost. Rules are rules. Be a good girl and accept it, Chae."

"Fuck the rules! This isn't even fair—"

"Seems fair enough to me. You wanted this bet in the first place, didn't you?"

"Yeah, because you're so fucking bad at pool!" 

"And yet somehow I managed to win, didn't I?" you continue, savoring the frustration in Chaewon's eyes, which she so poorly conceals. "I'm so looking forward to this week."

She's shoving the bottle right into your chest now, glaring intensely, inching closer and closer until there's not a sliver of space left between you two. But eventually, she relents, grits her teeth, and inevitably accepts defeat.

"Fine—asshole. A deal is a deal. What do you fucking want?"

You take a moment to savor the sweet taste of victory. “Your tight fucking ass. In that bathroom over there. Hope you still keep that bottle of lube in your purse.”

A momentary silence comes, no argument, no protest, no further refusal. So out of character for her, but it's the sort of obedience that you don't take for granted, because who knows how long it'll actually last. "Whatever. Lead the way then.” 

So without hesitation, you do—Chaewon finishes her beer before grabbing her handbag off the counter. You take her by the wrist as the two of you wander out of the bar, heading for the public restroom across the way. It’s late enough in the night that you’re not concerned with it being occupied as you shove the door open, finding Chaewon right behind in no time at all. 

The lock clicks, and thankfully the bathroom is a bit more clean than you've been expecting. It's small, and barely fits the both of you together, with only black tile and dim lighting inside, a few paintings on the wall meant to spice things up. There’s only a single toilet in the corner, with a tiny sink against the back, a large mirror above it on an expensive-looking counter. It's not the fancy suite you spent last month together in, or the love hotel from last week, but it'll do. 

Chaewon pushes past towards the mirror in front of the porcelain sink, and you watch her intently searching through the contents in her bag until her fingers grab hold of something to bring it to your view.

"My ass? That's all you wanted?" Chaewon asks, catching your gaze in the reflection as she waves a familiar bottle of lube at you, unceremoniously placing the little bottle beside the faucet.

"Among other things, yeah.” 

Staring into the mirror, Chaewon is smart enough to know where things are heading, and wonders what she’s gotten herself into. The look on her face is a mix of irritation and pure lust when she turns around, eyes traveling south as she anticipates your next demand. "Get on your fucking knees, slut."

Here’s the first test—and Chaewon passes with flying colors. Moving away from the sink, she drops to her knees right in front, as if she's expected this outcome. And again, no protests, no attitude. 

"I knew you'd be a good girl and obey all week. Doesn't cute little Chaewonie love that?"

"Fuck you," she snaps back, with venom laced in her tone while her hands reach to unbutton your jeans, wasting no time to yank them to down your ankles. And there it is—that defiance, the same fiery expression you're so familiar with on her face that you've grown to know and love at the same time. You just watch, almost too amused, as she yanks those boxers down next, not even waiting a second to let your cock free.

That stare of hers lingers for an extra moment while her delicate hand takes hold, giving slow strokes up and down, grip tight, a thin coat of precum along every inch. "Can't believe I let you put this fucking cock in my asshole, almost every goddamn day of the week."

"Luckily for both of us, your tight asshole loves my cock."

Chaewon can't hide that blush on her cheeks—it's practically impossible to hide the cute little grin on her face as her hand continues stroking, steadily increasing her pace the harder your cock gets in her fingers. She just ignores you and spits on your shaft, pumping her fist all up and down with each stroke, grip as tight as possible. 

Another few moments and she's running her tongue along the length of your shaft—all slow and sensuous, a little breathy sigh before her pretty lips wrap around the swollen head of your cock, parting effortlessly as they welcome you into that sweet heavenly warmth. 

Her piercing eyes glance back up at you, guiding you deeper into her mouth as Chaewon takes as much of it as she can—down to the hilt in a swift, expert motion. 

"Shit, Chaewon—“

Hearing the way you moan her name, Chaewon can't contain her satisfaction as her head bobs up and down, lips moving slowly and carefully as they keep a tight seal, tongue flicking around the sensitive underside of your cock with each movement. You've become so used to this, the wet heat enveloping around you, soft lips providing so much pleasure, gliding all the way down, nose nestled against your abdomen for just a moment until it all repeats. 

You're lucky enough to experience this on the daily—because nobody gives a blowjob better than Kim Chaewon.

Oh, she's a fucking natural, taking every inch effortlessly down her throat without so much as gagging, tongue swirling and exploring as her hand fondles your aching balls, sucking and slurping lewdly as spit dribbles down from her pretty red lips.

"Your fucking mouth, god—I get this pretty fucking mouth all to myself all week." 

"Not like you'll be able to handle me for that long," she replies, with a lewd, exaggerated slurp around your cock as she pauses to catch her breath. 

"You talk so much for someone on their knees sucking my fucking cock, shit—that's so good."

And for once, she's not bothered by that remark. It just urges her to slurp harder, bobbing faster up and down with those hollowed cheeks, never letting your sensitive tip escape her warm depths. Her technique is completely unmatched. Each and every movement, she seems to know exactly what you want most. 

But you want something else, need something even more as you reach out, grabbing her head to shove her right back onto your shaft, to the very hilt—so fucking deep in the back of her throat.

Still, she hardly chokes, only briefly, a loud, lewd sound filling the room. Chaewon seems almost thrilled to be right back down that deep. 

"I like you much better when you're nice and quiet with my dick in your mouth."

The silence is fleeting—but the glare given as soon as those words leave your lips can speak volumes, knowing this peace is only temporary. Her warm mouth is all yours to enjoy, your hips thrusting without restraint, feeling those soft, full lips slide perfectly along your shaft as deep as they’ll go. You get a tight grip into her hair, indulging in her heavenly mouth, fingers all tangled up in her beautiful auburn locks. 

Nothing would ever make her admit it, but Chaewon absolutely loves this—so eager to please, clutching to your thighs as she takes you, struggling to control her breathing with your entire length sliding deeper and deeper while she lets you fuck her face. 

"God, your throat—your fucking throat is too good, baby, such a good fucking girl," you groan out. Her nails dig deeper into the back of your thighs, trying so hard not to choke whenever you decide to hold her down, forcing that mouth of hers to swallow the entire length of your shaft.

"I'm in the middle of a public bathroom sucking your dick," Chaewon murmurs, short of breath as she pulls away from your cock to respond, strands of drool dripping from her swollen lips. "So clearly—I'm not a very good girl."

"Shame. Then I guess you don't want this dick in your ass, brat."

Chaewon can't even retort, staring down at your glistening, spit-coated cock throbbing inches from her face. Her hand is on your shaft again without hesitation, pumping slowly while her lips trail kisses along the side, pressing lightly in an agonizing tease as her tongue licks your length.

"I didn't fucking say that, idiot," she replies, trailing your length further as those luscious red lips envelop your sensitive balls, slow and deliberate, slobbering on them while her delicate hands move back up towards your shaft. "I know you're dying to shove this inside me, god—you're throbbing so much. How long would you even last with me bent over this sink, with this big fucking thing plunging deep into my tight little asshole?”

"Guess we'll find out,” you respond, taking your cock away from her grasp and slapping her pretty face with it, making a mess as spit decorates her beautiful features. “Get up, face the fucking mirror."

"Be gentle,” Chaewon says, wiping saliva from her chin as she slowly rises to her feet, 

"That's a new one. Is that what you really want?"

"Fuck no. You better destroy my asshole,” she replies in the mirror with this sinful little expression, like she knows you’d never do anything else. So you bend her forward enough until her ass is high up in the air, her palms resting on the cold porcelain surface as you stand right behind with your cock resting against those tight fucking shorts. 

She feels so tiny beneath you, that petite frame and curvy ass waiting to be taken, all at your mercy to ruin. "How bad do you want my fucking cock? Beg for it."

“Beg? Fuck you, asshole. You’re nothing more than a convenient toy for me to sink down on that I use for my own enjoyment. Not the other way around—“

Even when she's bent over a bathroom sink about to be fucked senseless, Chaewon still can't shut up. “Is that so? I'm your toy?"

"Absolutely—and that fucking cock is the only reason why I bother keeping you around."

That’s amusing, to say the least. You don’t give it another thought as you get a quick grasp on those tight shorts and yank them down so fast her head spins. Underneath lies a skimpy little pair of panties that gets tugged down just as fast until they rest around her creamy thighs, leaving you to admire those full, pale ass cheeks.

You grope them and get a nice handful, so enticed by her shapely ass that without warning your palm raises high, a loud slap crashing against her bare flesh. Chaewon jolts against the sting, whimpering and biting her lip, aching for more.

"I want it so fucking hard. Hurry up.” Chaewon grinds her ass back, pushing right up against your erection, doing everything she can short of begging for your length.

“So you do wanna beg? Didn’t take much.” 

Chaewon squirms underneath as your palm slaps firmly again, gritting her teeth when it comes down with more force the next time. "Just get the fuck in me before I—“

Another smack cuts her off, the sharp noise echoing against the tiled walls as your palm squeezes roughly at her soft flesh. “So fucking needy.”

You’re both lucky the bass thumping in the distance can drown out the cries that spill out from Chaewon’s lips, as her exposed, reddened cheeks absorb every smack of your palm, the recoil so deliciously mesmerizing. 

Her creamy skin marks up so easily, bright red where you've smacked her delicious ass over and over. She's growing restless beneath your palm as you deliver more slaps, the noise louder and louder, with no warning for when and where. "Sh-shut the fuck up! I need it right now, god, just get that thick cock in me, please—“

So easy for her to surrender. 

Chaewon braces for another hit—but it never comes, replaced by a much different sensation as your slicked up finger traces against her tight asshole. So fucking tight, so greedy, eager to accept what's coming. 

"You're pretty demanding for someone who's going to be on their fucking knees for me all week."

She clenches around your wet fingertip when it plunges in, almost involuntarily. It’s insanely difficult just to ease the slightest bit inside her ass, fighting through that incredibly tight, hot grip.

"No more talking. Shove your dick in my asshole or I swear I’ll—“ 

"Patience, sweetie. My cock's going to live in your ass for the entire week—learn some fucking manners."

"No. Fuck you."

This girl is unapologetic, even at a time like this. She's borderline infuriating to be around at the best of times, so you’ll just have to do what you always do best—fuck the brat out of her. 

You pour a generous amount onto your cock, giving it a few full strokes before moving between those cheeks and plunging another finger back in. This time, it sinks in easier with little effort at all, knuckle-deep within that tight opening. Half prep, half teasing as Chaewon shudders, moaning so loudly while you spread that cold liquid, pumping two digits in and out. "Jesus, hurry the fuck up, asshole, I can't—"

"Can you stop being needy for like, five seconds? Relax. Be a good fucking girl."

"Try and call me that again and see what fucking happens—"

Her empty threats don't deter you from pushing the tip of your cock against that pretty, puckered hole, ceasing any further complaints as she lets out a needy, satisfied moan in response. One shallow thrust is all it takes to get right past that slippery tight entrance, stretching her right open to sink into those familiar depths.

"Ch-cheater," she mutters, while adjusting to the fullness, the overwhelming stretch of your cock as she grips the sink tighter. "You still fucking cheated. I can't believe you, fuck—oh my god."

You're barely in her ass and yet Chaewon is already stuttering, taking deep breaths as you watch your cock disappear between her pillowy cheeks. There's no other feeling quite like it—the heavenly vice grip on your length as her ass welcomes you right in and every single inch gets swallowed up.

"It's not my fault you choked at the last fucking minute." 

As you wait for whatever she’s going to spit back, you bottom out—those soft, round cheeks pressed against your body. A perfect fit, nice and snug inside that impossibly tight asshole that you savor before drawing the entire length out of Chaewon as she sucks you back in again.

"Why does your stupid cock always have to feel so fucking good?" she groans, already losing the fight with her pride, as your thrusts steadily increase in pace. Her perfect fucking asshole clenches hard, resisting every attempt to slip out, just devouring your cock without complaint. "Just like that—fuck, oh my god, harder, you cheating asshole."

And nothing could be easier to oblige. Every ounce of spite and aggression vanishes from her tone, replaced with pure bliss every time your shaft bottoms out. No part of you stays idle, one hand gripping those supple hips while those slaps on her backside echo, each sting so agonizingly satisfying as her tender, red cheeks ripple with every rough impact.

"You really love my dick in your ass, don't you? Look at you, trying so hard not to beg for this."

"Shut the fuck up," Chaewon growls, her mind preoccupied by bliss, overwhelmed by the pleasure, mouth wide open and moaning loudly without a care in the world as you just stare at her in the glass reflection. "Just fuck me harder, god—pound my fucking asshole and shut up."

The way she’s stretching so nicely around your cock, it's impossible not to do anything else. Nice and deep, sliding in and out of that perfect fucking asshole, groaning from how warm and tight it is as your thrusts start to get progressively out of control. 

Your hips crash against her body repeatedly, flesh on flesh echoing through the walls as your length pounds into her greedy little hole, fingers digging into her hips. Chaewon's sweet whimpers, little groans, and desperate pleas for you to give her even more grow louder, more frantic as your pace picks up, and she falls further and further apart.

"I fucking won and you're just a sore loser." 

Your palm is harsh against her soft ass, firm slaps that leave her delicate skin more tender and sensitive. In fact, the more red her pale cheeks get, the more aroused the sounds escaping her get. With her head thrown back, Chaewon watches you claim her in the reflection with heavy breaths as she stares back into the mirror, reveling in every inch pounding away deep inside her ass. 

"Please," Chaewon mumbles in such a pathetic tone, staring into your eyes in the reflection. Her fingers cling to the cold surface of the sink, desperately clutching for stability against your merciless thrusts. "I need—just use me and fucking wreck my asshole."

She can't hide the satisfaction on her face while you’re slamming right into her tightest hole, hard, deep, unforgiving. This is how you really like her, all pretty, fucked out beyond comprehension, practically incoherent and totally taken apart by your cock.

"Holy shit, shit—shit, don't stop. Give me more,” Chaewon whimpers, unable to tear herself away from the mirror and the depraved scene on the other side. Her tiny frame shakes, clinging so tightly to the sink for some sense of control as you drive your length deep, a loud slap on her reddened cheeks an exclamation point on every harsh thrust. 

There's really no way you could stop even if you tried. 

"Tell me how good it feels."

Your cock is deep in her tight asshole and she can't think of anything more substantial than fuck and please and more. Those sweet, desperate little noises she makes when your hips ram faster against her flesh fill the entire bathroom, spurring you on, reminding her this is exactly how this entire week is going to go. 

"So big—god, I feel so fucking full, that dick in my little asshole," Chaewon says with drool coating her chin, hair an utter mess. "Feels too fucking good, that nice thick cock shoved right up my ass, fuck—“ 

"Dumb slut loves having her tight asshole stretched, doesn't she?"

"Y-yes—fuck, god, keep going. Shit, it's so fucking good."

In the middle of another rough thrust, you lift her shirt up enough to pull her bra up, letting those tits spill free. You grope at them so roughly, cupping them, then playing with those sensitive nipples, anything to push her a little more over the edge. They bounce in sync with your thrusts, and she’s so goddamn tight you can hardly take it, buried in as deep as your shaft will go.

“Can’t believe how good your cock feels in my tight fucking asshole,“ she groans out all breathy and shaky, holding onto the sink tighter each time while you plunge your cock into her greedy ass, balls deep without interruption. 

The feeling is mutual—nothing comes close to how tight her heavenly little asshole chokes your cock, each thrust bringing you closer to release with every lingering moment.

It’s all so shameless. The way your hands roam across her devilish curves, how you tease those pert nipples before trailing down along the sides of her slutty little waist and getting a firm hold on to her hips for more leverage to pummel her tight ass even harder.

Through this onslaught of harsh thrusts, there’s no complaining, no bickering, just lust and a constant desire for more. All you can do is get your hands on her scrumptious ass, refusing to slow your hips down while you manhandle her sweaty, small body, fucking Chaewon as hard as you possibly can. 

A few more slaps on her tender ass, and you’re spiraling towards the edge, unable to keep this relentless pace up for much longer. You keep your hands full of those plump asscheeks—spreading them so you can thrust even deeper than you ever dreamed possible, the tightness in your balls building and building. 

"Chaewon, baby—gonna fucking explode, need to cum in you.” 

"Then hurry the fuck up and do it. Dump your load in my tight little fucking asshole, come on, fill me.” 

One look in the mirror and she looks so eager, so ready and willing for just that. It's everything you need to get your final moment of satisfaction. Burying your cock one last time, those sweet lips part in a silent, desperate gasp when you erupt, your hot seed shooting right inside her tight little asshole. You unload everything—thrusting frantically into her ass, squeezing those plump, firm cheeks as your thick cum spills and spills like never before.

There's barely a thought in your head as your hips start to slow down, cock pulsating, every last drop of your cum pumped into that perfect fucking ass. You’re spent, slumped over Chaewon’s exhausted smaller frame on the verge of collapsing, taking a few moments to just breathe—your head resting right into the crook of her neck, still buried inside her. 

Chaewon looks beyond satisfied, leaning further into the counter with her head hung low, strands of hair stuck to her sweaty face, breathing still deep and heavy. “Shit—oh my god. Are you done? Get out of me already, how much fucking cum do you have, jesus fucking—"

"I would, if you weren't still squeezing the life out of my fucking dick. That desperate to keep me inside you?”

There’s not another word from her as she scoffs in the mirror, and eventually unclenches her muscles to let you ease out of her tight ass, her gaping little hole already overflowing with your load. You can't help yourself, getting a full, unobstructed view of your handiwork from behind, hands cupping both of her supple asscheeks, spreading them apart to revel at the mess you've made inside her. 

“Fucking asshole," Chaewon mutters, while resting her back against your chest. Even now, she can't resist a snide remark, groaning softly as she begins to gather her senses. "I can't believe—the whole week, now? Really?"

"Don’t make bets with me you can’t afford to lose, sweetheart." 

Her breath stays heavy as she processes it all, and you lazily kiss at her shoulders, the slightest hint of salt on her bare sweaty skin. 

"Shut your fucking mouth.” She turns on her heels just to glare at you, shambling over with her panties still down her legs to grab some toilet paper to wipe the white leaking down her thighs. "Maybe I wanted you to ruin my asshole this—maybe I let you fucking win."

It takes everything in you not to laugh—that same old ego of hers, trying to spin this into something she can control, still so in disbelief after all this time. "Right. Of course."

Chaewon rolls her eyes as she continues cleaning herself up, shimmying her panties over her reddened cheeks and pulling her shorts up to cover herself up once more. "God, did you really have to slap my ass that hard? I'm going to be bruised for days."

"If I recall correctly, you're the one who started begging me to stop holding back."

"Yeah, because I knew you wouldn't—" Chaewon starts, as she shuffles a little closer, hovering on her tiptoes to press her lips firmly against yours in a deep, lingering kiss, cutting off any retort before it leaves your mouth. "Forget it, you ass. Now get out. Before someone sees us.”

There's little else for you to do when your pants zip back up, so she shoves you out and pushes open the door, gesturing impatiently for you to leave as you stagger out of the bathroom. Chaewon does what she can to look presentable, running her fingers through her hair, fixing her makeup, tucking loose strands behind her ears before she tries to stay hot on your heels when she steps out. 

“Come on,” you demand, and don’t even bother to look behind you, nor do you even care if anyone is around to notice how you both look as you make a beeline towards the exit. “Or I’m leaving you behind.” 

"Hey, wait up—I can barely fucking walk, asshole!" she calls out, chasing after you on her shaky, trembling legs while her heels clack against the flooring—pulling down her shirt in case anyone turns around, desperate to keep her decency even after all this. "God, fuck me first and then you expect me to run fucking after you—“ 

That only makes you quicken your pace, not the least bit guilty about the state you’ve left this bratty girl in. “If your sore little ass can't keep up, that’s not my fault.” 

Chaewon lets out a heavy sigh and narrows the distance, grumbling under her breath but otherwise following you into a taxi, swearing as her sore backside sits in the cab. You steal a few glances during the ride home, which ends in silence—completely exhausted, having just burned the rest of your energy railing her in the bathroom.

When you finally get out of the cab, Chaewon is far behind, walking gingerly up the stairs and holding the rail as she approaches the front door of the building. You just stare at her down, debating whether or not to unlock the door—waiting for another chance to get under her skin. 

"Are you gonna fucking open the door or just stand out here all night?" Chaewon asks impatiently, glancing at the lock like she can open it with her deadly gaze alone. "Because I need a goddamn shower."

She's really making it too easy for you. So difficult to resist the urge to push every button and test every single last ounce of patience this girl possesses. "What's the magic word?"

"Fuck you."

"That's two words."

"Let me in already before I break this door down, you fucking asshole!" 

Ah, there it is—her breaking point. That famous short-fused temper so dependable to show itself at just the right moment. 

"Remind me again, Chae—what was the bet about exactly?" The question hangs in the air, and Chaewon seems about ready to kick a hole in your front door. Seeing her frustration escalate only puts a smile on your face, unable to resist her little tantrums, now more fun to push than ever. 

"Can't seem to remember. I think we should call the whole thing off," Chaewon mutters through gritted teeth, avoiding eye contact altogether. 

"No, a bet is a bet, sweetie. Whatever my little heart desires for the entire week? Think that's what you said, if I remember correctly." You pause a moment, staring her down—those flushed, rosy cheeks and narrowed eyes in your view as she fidgets in place when you lean in closer, standing directly in front of the doorway to taunt her. "Which means—if I wanted you to strip all your clothes off and do a lap around the block, then that's exactly what you'd have to do."

"Y-you wouldn't dare—I can barely even feel my legs as is," Chaewon attempts to argue, nearly falling over trying to take a few steps closer.

"Does that sound like my problem?" There's a long, torturous moment of silence, Chaewon seemingly lost for a snappy comeback or a witty retort—unable to string together a decent response for once. You see that her expression softens, eyes darting to the sidewalk outside, as the thought of taking a walk of shame runs through her mind.

"You're bluffing.” 

"Am I, though? Like you said—anything I want, you do.” 

The fact that you’re using everything against her, turning that confidence into vulnerability, brings nothing but pure, elated bliss. There's no denying her frustration, the irritation etched on her features while she looks ready to unleash every curse word imaginable under the sun.

Chaewon’s hubris is all her undoing, and she knows there's no way out of this, not when you've backed her up in a corner. It takes a good minute to gather her thoughts and actually put together an answer, but the more she ruminates, the easier it is to know exactly where her mind is going. 

“Come on, sweetheart. I’m waiting.” 

In the end, she lets out a defeated sigh—and unfastens the belt around her waist. Right in front of the door. Outside, in public. It’s late enough in the evening that the block is fairly dead, but she seems to realize there’s no getting out of this. 

"I can’t fucking believe you—f-fine, whatever, let's get this over with," Chaewon murmurs out, looking quite sheepish as she tugs her shorts down her bare legs and struggles to balance in the dim light, stepping out one foot at a time. Without even thinking, her black top comes next, lifting it up over her head as she gives a quick look around the street before throwing it down on the ground. 

And that's when Chaewon just stands there, sulking under her breath, completely exposed in the cool, breezy night in only her underwear, barefoot on the cold pavement. There's little you can do besides enjoy the view, that amazing body in nothing but a saucy pair of lingerie that you’ve gotten a closer look at, shamelessly baring it all. 

Her face is flushed, eyes glued to the concrete, taking a deep breath before undoing the clasp on her bra—but that's as far as she gets before you reach a hand out to interrupt her impromptu strip show.

"Jesus, Chae—I wasn’t being serious," you blurt out, laughing uncontrollably and watch her pretty eyes go wide as the realization sinks in. "You were really about to run naked through this entire neighborhood?"

She shoots you that familiar icy glare and crosses her arms over her chest, doing little to hide the hint of her nipples poking against the fabric of her bra. "Oh my god—you absolute fucking jackass!" Chaewon balls her fists, finally working off that last little bit of restraint keeping her temper in check, immediately scrambling to scoop up her discarded clothing before anyone catches sight of her. 

"Red looks good on you, by the way."

You're expecting one of those balled up fists to land squarely on your jaw any second—but they don't, and Chaewon simply strides by through the door you’ve finally unlocked, intentionally shoving a shoulder into yours. She storms inside, tossing her shoes and clothes on the ground, seething the entire way up the stairs. That's the last you see of her that night, hearing the shower turn on immediately when she finally slips into the bathroom.

✦ ✦

It's the next day when the fun really starts. 

Chaewon is barely even dressed when the morning hits, wandering through the apartment in nothing but an oversized t-shirt that barely covers what little modesty her thong leaves her, digging through the cabinets to find something for breakfast. She's slept off most of the anger that lingers from last night, even so much as offering a smile when you saunter into the kitchen and pop a bagel into the toaster.

"Good morning," you say, taking a seat across from her at the kitchen table, watching her shovel down a bowl of cereal like she hasn't eaten all week. 

"Morning.” Chaewon barely looks up from a mouthful of crunch, focused entirely on the food. "What am I in store for today?"

"Dunno. Haven't thought about it too much."

It's the truth, mostly, though Chaewon has no reason to believe otherwise, knowing her day will probably be spent anxiously awaiting her next demand. "Don't keep me guessing here. What's next, blowing you in the corner of the library? Showing off my tits off to everyone on the bus? Or maybe—what, you want me to wear a plug in my ass all day?"

"Now you're just giving me ideas, Chae. But if you have a plug, maybe we can start there—"

Chaewon kicks you under the table, finishing up her cereal and drinking the last remnants of the milk. "Absolutely not. My ass is still sore from you wrecking it last night."

"I'll be nice and gentle next time." Like that's a promise you can make, unable to stop thinking about the way her body looked bent over the sink, manhandling her curvy frame and just pounding away without a care in the world. It's all so deliciously vivid—those plump juicy cheeks getting redder and redder after each impact, swallowing up your entire length. And those delicious moans, the memory alone makes your cock throb in your pants.

"I don't think gentle is in your vocabulary."

You laugh quietly to yourself, biting down on the last half of your bagel, contemplating her words. "How can I ever be gentle when you're always begging to be fucking ruined?"

"Oh, shut up—I don't fucking beg." Chaewon drops her empty bowl in the sink before hopping up on the edge of the kitchen table, sitting right in your line of sight with a view of her thighs spread wide. You have trouble focusing on anything else but that body, unable to deny how captivating it is to see so much exposed skin, all these sinful curves inviting your gaze in when that flimsy material barely covers up anything between her legs. 

"Did you forget last night? When you were so desperate and needy—begging me to fucking fill your ass?"

With that, you finish up the last bite, pushing your seat out and stretching for a moment. Chaewon takes notice and slides into your lap, thwarting any plans you have next—straddling you, knees firmly placed on either side with hands around your neck as she draws closer. “What did I just fucking say? I don’t beg. You must be misremembering things.” 

Nothing else gets said for a moment as Chaewon holds that heated stare. The fact you're able to maintain it, even for this long without breaking, is an achievement in itself—such a fiery look in those eyes when she leans forward to press a hot, heavy kiss against your lips. 

"Why would I beg when you give me what I already want, all the fucking time?" Chaewon peppers quick, teasing kisses all across your neck as she speaks and presses her palm flat against your crotch, gently massaging through the thin fabric of your shorts. 

"Yeah? And what's that exactly?"

Chaewon gets right against your ear, pressing those perfect breasts firmly into your chest and nuzzles your neck, placing the slightest kiss to your jaw. "Pounding my little cunt until I cum on your thick fucking cock. Until my thighs are shaking—until your fucking balls are empty."

Shifting her weight, she lingers on your lap, dragging those long fingers through your hair and deliberately grinding her clothed core against the obvious tent forming in your pants. Already, you can feel the fabric darken and soak through—making a bit of a mess that you’re happy to contribute to. 

"And what if I said no? Told you to stay still—be a good girl and wait. Patience and all."

"Then I'll tell you that'll never fucking happen. I'm not a good girl and never will be. Not when I can take your cock down my throat—or ride this fucking thing until you unload in my tight fucking pussy. Good girls don't take cock the way I do."

She makes her point very clear with a hot breathy whisper into your ear, making her desires well known. The look in her eyes, that piercing stare, ready to be defiled and filled—everything about Chaewon is downright sinful.

"So, come up with any grand plans yet in that dumb head of yours or..." Chaewon tilts her head to the side as she unbuttons her shirt little by little, revealing more of her delicious tits with every button loosened.

You just stare at that exposed cleavage with little shame. "Got a few ideas stewing. And here I thought you hated me winning your silly little bet.” 

"Like I said, I let you win. I got tired of beating you too easily and decided to spice things up. So now you get to use me however you fucking please, and that's much more exciting than winning another dumb game of pool."

You don't believe her for a second, but you won’t argue about it—especially not when she's so readily giving herself away. This version of Chaewon is the best version of herself, no complaints, no defiance, just a little vixen waiting patiently to see what twisted desires come next.

"Well, what type of punishment are you going to give me today?" Chaewon gives this mocking grin as the last buttons of her shirt come undone, opening up to give the full reveal of her perky, luscious tits—round and heavy in her bra, straining the cups of the sheer material. "Go on, tell me, master." 

”You are not calling me that. For an entire week. Not a fucking chance."

"You prefer daddy, then? Sir, perhaps—"

"None of those, you fucking weirdo, god, what is wrong with you?" 

"Hmph, you're no fun. What good is bossing me around if I can't call you something special, at least once? Or maybe—" 

You don't let her have another word, lifting her up off the chair in one swift motion, holding those thick creamy thighs steady while she wraps her arms around your neck for stability.

"Shut that goddamn mouth of yours before I find a better use for it."

You cross the length of the apartment in seconds with Chaewon's small frame in your arms, heading towards the bedroom. With every step, her tits bounce through her open shirt, making you eager to rip that bra right off. There’s no time for patience—you toss her onto the bed with minimal effort, her body sinking into the soft mattress with a little bounce. 

The way she moves makes the springs creak as she fully tosses her shirt off her shoulders, exposing the black lace number underneath, her breasts nearly spilling out. Again, you just stare—that gorgeous pair bouncing when her back falls flat, her hands roaming across her own bare skin.

"What's master going to do to me?" Chaewon asks, unable to resist teasing and taunting, giggling quietly to herself. She’s so proud of herself for turning the tables back in her favor, every bit eager to toy and rile you up as much as possible.

"I swear to god, Chae—" 

You're quick to discard your own clothes, leaving only your boxers as you step closer to the foot of the bed, enjoying the view of Chaewon's gorgeous body stretched out on full display. Those full breasts, ample hips, delicious creamy thighs—there's so much of her to take in, even the delicate features of her face, pouty lips that belong around your cock.

Chaewon bites her lip—eager to show off, squirming when those slender fingers roam across her toned stomach, before she brings one hand to fondle one of her tits while the other travels between her thighs, teasing herself with the slowest movements. "Does my body make your dick nice and hard?"

Her underwear is almost completely soaked when the two digits she has between her legs press deeper, rubbing in a slow, tantalizing manner that drives you crazy with anticipation. "What do you fucking think, brat? Do you even understand what your tight fucking body does to me?"

It’s a confession that materializes so easily, because you're fucking throbbing at this sinful little display she's giving, aching to be buried deep in any part of Chaewon's delectable body. With her gaining the advantage, she opens her legs wider, spreading them until you can see just how damp that useless little thong is—her touch getting bolder, bra clasp already popped and hanging by her shoulders. All that’s left is for those fingers to slip under the damp fabric that sits between her thighs, moving inside her sensitive slit, whimpering gently at her own touch. 

"Then hurry up and put your dick where it belongs."

There's a dangerous level of temptation from those words alone, enough to forget about anything else when Chaewon scoots towards the end of the bed, settling into position on her stomach and reaching out to slide your boxers down enough to let your stiff length free. 

Her wet little tongue darts across your slit, followed by an eager hand pumping around your shaft, stroking up and down as if it belongs to her (and it might as well). She falls into place with ease, focusing all her attention on pleasuring your aching, needy cock, her head bobbing up and down for a few moments—just enough to get it nice and slippery wet, dragging the warm slick of her saliva from tip to base. But that's all she gets to have, for now. "No, not like this. Face up. So I can use that pretty fucking mouth of yours."

It's an order that leaves little room for question—and she's quick to roll over on her back, pausing only long enough to discard the bra off her body. She tosses the offending garment across the bedroom to expose those beautiful tits as her head hangs slightly off the edge, right at the perfect level for your cock. You watch her hand resume those gentle pumps, taking pleasure in how much control you have over her at this very moment. "Use me, use me like the little slut I am. Use your pretty toy for whatever you fucking need."

Her eagerness to please is so damn arousing—it makes you pause as you look at that gorgeous face upside-down, stepping in a bit closer, aligning your stiff cock with those perfectly glossed lips and can't help but rub your tip all over them. 

"Don't fucking tease—let me taste this fucking cock."

You’re quick to indulge her as your cock sinks deep into the back of her throat, your entire length pushing in at once, balls nudged up against the bridge of her nose. You just rest there for a moment, savoring the heat and wetness surrounding your shaft, right down to the base. “My god, Chae—” 

Chaewon is completely ready and willing, hands grasping at her tits, pinching those pretty pink nipples between her fingers. As you draw your shaft backwards, a trail of drool and spit follow your length, as this needy girl runs her tongue across every wet inch. "C-come on, I can fucking handle it. Don't you dare go easy on me."

Oh, you would never. The second she takes a moment to breathe, you're slamming right back in, watching those pretty lips engulf every inch you give. She hardly chokes at all, throat accommodating your length without issue. 

It doesn't take long to find yourself completely engrossed with the way her sultry eyes look up, those pouty lips accepting each and every inch. You can't help but moan whenever you bottom out, keeping a hand resting at her slender neck, so you can feel it bulge just the slightest with each movement.

"Goddamn, baby, I’m all the way in your fucking throat. You love that don’t you?" you ask, knowing damn well she can’t answer as you pump into her, the image of your shaft plunging repeatedly between her plush, thick lips too unforgettable. Chaewon can do little but sneak a hand down into her ruined panties, playing with her pussy once more while you use her hot, eager mouth—not holding anything back. 

There’s nothing better than using this brat in every way you want, fucking her mouth with such little care—this is heaven. It’s impossible not to bury your cock so deep into that tight throat again and again. She only makes it better when her warm tongue drags against every inch, and her tits look positively mouth-watering from this angle that there’s no way you can leave them alone for a moment longer.

All you have to do is lean forward and grope both of her delicious breasts, kneading the supple flesh between your fingers. You handle them with no sense of mercy, using them as leverage for every thrust, to slam even deeper down her throat with your shaft filling her up completely. 

If only Chaewon could speak right now—

Instead, her eyes gaze upward, pleading as drool continues to spill from her mouth. And it's such a lovely mess, tears forming as you get rougher with every deep stroke. There's no better sight, your hands full of those delicious tits that you massage and fondle, jiggling the faster your hips move against her face. While you’ve got them underneath your fingertips, your palms smack against the sensitive flesh, right across her stiff nipples repeatedly, just enough to enjoy the sound it makes. Not quite as satisfying as the way they feel. 

"These pretty fucking tits, baby—I could play with them all fucking day,” you say, pinching each of her swollen nipples before returning another harsh slap that ripples the pale flesh so deliciously. And while she can’t respond, you feel it around your cock, these constant vibrating moans whenever your hand smacks one of those perfect tits, causing a slight red mark against the skin. 

You hold a steady pace, and keep these unrelenting thrusts going, taking one look down at those ruined panties. They cling to her sticky thighs, giving such a sinful view of her fingers jammed inside her needy cunt. "Don't even need to win a bet for this. You're just a greedy fucking slut who loves getting used all the fucking time, aren’t you?"

"God yes—" is the only thing that comes out when you finally pull your dick away, a messy string of spit hanging right after. Her lips immediately latch onto your balls, licking and sucking each one with such fervor, that ravenous mouth not ready for your cock to leave quite yet.

One glance is all it takes, as Chaewon pants heavily and works at your sack with her wet tongue, but your cock is meant for far better use. So much to her dismay, you move out of reach, earning a needy little whine when you take a few steps back away from the bed and beckon her over. 

She obeys, so eager and desperate to know what you plan next as she hurriedly slides those wet, useless panties the rest of the way off. That leaves her completely bare, tits out, juices leaking down her thighs, and you don’t even get enough strokes in as she slowly crawls on the floor, finding her position in front of you.

You're far enough from the bed now to do whatever you'd like, with Chaewon inches away from you, naked, on her knees, makeup slightly smeared from the tears spilling down her cheeks. The options are endless—and yet you can’t help staring, unable to stop looking at her gorgeous face, and this tight body, everything perfectly sculpted and flawless.

"Stand up, slut." 

It's a simple command she's quick to follow, unfolding her legs and standing straight up as her bare feet land against the ground. You tower over her small frame, with only one thing in mind—and it's like she can read your thoughts, so excited for what's about to happen when her perfectly manicured toes come off the carpet. And just like that, you've got her hoisted in the air, held up with your hands securely on her ass as you drop her right back down on your hard shaft.

"Holy fucking shit—your cock,“ Chaewon groans out, and instinctively wraps her legs around you, lips parted, so lost in bliss when you’ve got her impaled on your length, impossibly deep with every last inch buried in her wet little cunt. You get a good grip on her body, squeezing those pale, plump cheeks enough while she locks her arms around your neck, her weight perfectly suspended in the air. “Pound me—pound me like the greedy little slut I fucking am."

She lets out such a desperate moan when you give that first thrust, the one that’s always the most powerful, stretching her in the most delicious ways. There’s nothing to support her but your own strength, and she’s practically helpless in your arms as you bounce her on your cock, so slick and tight and hot all around you. 

It’s every bit overwhelming, in all the right ways. 

"Such a tight little fucking cunt,” you say, before slamming into her heat so mercilessly, spreading her cheeks wide to make her sink down on your cock without pause. You know she can handle more, and that’s exactly what you’ll give before she starts to beg for it, impaling her to the hilt as you slide so effortlessly inside. 

Chaewon is needy, wet, whimpering against your ear with her body pressed against you, tits pressed into your chest. It’s like she weighs nothing as you pound into her, these desperate cries for more that fill the room with a sinful symphony of flesh slapping together. 

“F-fuck, just like that! Use me, just fucking use my pussy!” She's completely at your mercy as she takes everything you give, her tight hole welcoming your harsh thrusts, moaning so shamelessly while she holds on for dear life and buries her head in the crook of your neck. 

"That's the fucking plan, baby.” 

Her body is so easy to handle, so easy to keep your cock sheathed that you could carry her around anywhere until your arms give out. Not an ounce of mercy for your aching cock buried to the hilt, pounding her on your length just like she craves. 

"Shit, shit—g-gonna cum," she whimpers out, barely able to give warning before her cunt clamps down on you almost painfully so as her moans spill into your ears. "Gonna fucking cum on your dumb big fucking cock—"

Everything becomes so, so tight, as Chaewon soaks your length, falling apart so quickly with your cock pounding her senseless. Those creamy thighs wrapped around you shake and tremble, toes curling, the suffocating heat of her drenched pussy so overwhelming it spurs you to fuck her straight through this intense climax. 

"I've barely started fucking you and you're already creaming on my cock? Needy fucking slut." 

"Sh-shut up, asshole," Chaewon says, a quick return to her old self even before the bliss subsides. "Not my fault your dumb fucking cock can get me off so easily. I'll cum all I fucking want—" 

That attitude doesn't last long before you double down on your efforts, a blur of heavy thrusts into her slick depths with ruthless abandon, intent on making her a writhing, quivering mess. Chaewon can hardly complain when she’s this insatiable,having fallen right into her next climax with almost zero effort on your part—everything just too hot and slick as you pound her greedy pussy relentlessly.

"Your fucking cock, oh my god—" Her voice shakes, words interrupted with another string of moans, her warm, messy cunt drenching every last inch of your shaft. She just takes it all and clings desperately to your body, bracing for another explosive orgasm while you keep her mid-air, your unrelenting hips driving her to an all new level of pleasure and sensitivity. “G-gonna cum, fuck—oh my fucking god, gonna cum again on your stupid big dick—"

When Chaewon falls over the edge again, she’s an absolute wreck—breath shaky, body shuddering, little gasps each time you give an especially deep thrust. She’s downright delirious with parted lips and heavy eyelids, helpless to defy the pleasure that keeps running through her body. “How many times is that, baby? Four, five? Getting real greedy, aren’t we?” 

"N-not greedy—it's not my fucking fault your cock feels so fucking good. Need you to cum too—in me, fill my fucking pussy. I’ve earned it."

That's all she can think about right now, sounding more and more pathetic with each slurred word. As if that's not already on your agenda. You keep her steady as you thrust a little more gently now, giving some recovery time as you carry her over towards the bed. Chaewon pants heavily when she’s lowered flat onto the mattress—still on her back and legs spread open, looking as beautiful as ever. 

She takes this moment to catch her breath—just long enough for you to toss her closer to the center of the bed, folding her in half, legs up towards her shoulders as you get positioned. “Use me to cum—ruin me. Shoot your hot load in me, make a fucking mess inside, please—” 

And how could you possibly resist that? The respite doesn't last long with her knees bent, feet dangling high in the air. One thrust, and she's nearly screaming as you plunge right into that hot, welcoming cunt, your cock engulfed in all this perfect wetness. 

"So deep—so fucking deep, holy shit," she gasps, and you quickly fall into a ruthless pace, knees sinking into the soft mattress when you pound her heavenly cunt with everything you have, now focusing on your own release. 

“Love your fucking cunt, baby—You want my cum? Want my balls fucking emptied inside you?” 

She’s frantically nodding, and each thrust comes harder than the last, slamming every soaked inch as deep as her cunt will take it. You can barely slow down, when Chaewon is so slippery wet and suffocatingly tight, taking every punishing thrust and welcoming the next. "That's what my tight fucking cunt is for, isn’t it? Taking your thick cock and never letting go until your cum is filling me, that hot fucking load so deep.“ 

That’s the dam that breaks when your carnal desires get unleashed and she watches you hammer her cunt, so deliciously stuffed as she whines with satisfaction with this hot squelch flooding the room. The bed shakes beneath her helpless little frame, balls slapping hard against her asshole each time you bury yourself deep as you can go, getting utterly relentless with your hips and hoping the mattress holds. 

“Oh my fucking god, cum inside, fucking cum in me, I need it." 

Chaewon is long past desperate as the ecstasy builds up higher and higher, and you're on the verge of emptying deep inside any moment, adjusting your angle while her slick cunt aches for your release. She’s shaking with anticipation, every stroke a promise of your seed, pumping right inside where it belongs. 

"Now, now, cum in me now—" Even all folded up, Chaewon tries to keep some semblance of control, with the springs protesting beneath her sweaty body. You can’t fight this urge, your body far past your limits when the pressure keeps building, until a loud guttural groan is the only warning she gets before one last deep, relentless thrust—

One last look at her face all contorted in pleasure, and you're emptying your load deep, pumping her pussy full with hot spurts that fire one after another, making her insides all white and sticky. But it's not enough to just fill her. You have this overwhelming ache to fuck your cum deep into her, ensuring she gets every last drop while your climax lingers, your shaft violently pulsing inside those wet, messy folds.

Even when the sensitivity becomes too much—you ignore it, because Chaewon feels too warm and wet, too perfect to leave such a heavenly grip, these slick walls that cling to your length and refuse to let anything escape her messy depths.

Chaewon looks more than satisfied as your hips start to falter, pumping through all the exhaustion until you can’t. 

"You came so much, fuck," she lets out with a weak voice, and you can hardly argue with her there, easing out of her little by little until this thick mess leaks out, slowly dripping out onto the sheets once every inch slides out. "It's all in me now, all your hot fucking cum in my little pussy like I deserve.” 

That cocky little smirk is back as you settle back and enjoy the bliss, left with a perfect view of the full mess inside Chaewon when her own hand wanders to those soaked folds, playing with this sticky warmth while she pushes whatever escapes back into her hot, messy cunt. 

"You really are a little cumslut." She offers nothing but a smile, tired gasps and heavy pants, two fingers sliding so deep in her warm cunt like she’s proud to show off how much she can make you explode. The sheets underneath remain an almost a bigger mess than her, stained by an ocean of fluids, but neither of you show any genuine concern, lingering in that euphoric sensation and content to never move. 

"S-so fucking what? Don't pretend that you don't love filling my pussy."

Before you can even take another breath, Chaewon pulls you right on top of her—your body crashing into hers as your lips meet. There's nothing left to argue about when the two of you lock in a lazy make-out session, tongues exploring mouths, not a care in the world about the mess pooling and staining everything below. 

When Chaewon breaks away, you're left mesmerized by those pretty eyes, so round and full of satisfaction. "So, I guess… the bet is over now, right?"

Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous that Chaewon thinks she's getting out of this so easily. "Please, you think this is over? We’re just getting started, sweetie. I haven't even begun to run out of different ways to ruin you."

Chaewon just rolls her eyes, shifting her weight a bit more comfortably into the mattress to steal another kiss. "God, like we need a stupid bet for that."

She's not wrong, but that doesn't mean you're dropping your claim to the rewards anytime soon. Five whole days with Kim Chaewon, with the freedom to do absolutely anything you'd like to her. Not a chance you'd give that up. "What's the matter? Not confident anymore, Miss-I-can-take-anything?"

"Shut up," she whines, burying her face against your chest in feigned irritation. "I'm totally fine. I just need to make sure your balls hold up. Five more days of you fucking me all day... hope you've got a good supply. Maybe we should take a couple of days off to let you recover."

"It's okay to admit you can't handle me for that long. Maybe it's your tight fucking cunt that needs the recovery time. Poor little Chaewon, I've just been using your pussy too much—"

"Asshole!" Chaewon gives a light slap against your arm that barely registers, considering her frame compared to yours. "Now get off me and help me to the fucking shower. I need your filth out of me."

"Not unless I'm joining you.” 

Another eye roll from Chaewon as she bites down a smile, attempting to sit up as best as she can with you still hovering over her—without much luck. "God, no, I swear I need an actual shower. You're just going to pound me against the glass until I can't even remember my own fucking name, and then we're never going to get clean." 

"I don't see the problem here."

"Oh my god," Chaewon sighs, attempting and failing to squirm her body out from under yours. "Fine. You can join, but keep your dick out of me." 

“No promises. Where's the fun in that?"

"Ugh, you greedy little bastard. Is your cock ever satisfied for even a moment?"

"No."

Chaewon lets out this exasperated groan as you help her off the mattress and onto her wobbly legs—grasping her hips, helping guide her over towards the shower across the room. She looks less than amused. "You're such an ass, there's no way you have anything else left. My pussy can't take it—god, you're gonna destroy me."

"Again, don't see the problem here."

You've never seen her more annoyed. It's the closest she's looked to admitting defeat. "Of course you fucking don't—look, I'll let you fuck my soapy tits in the shower, alright? But your dick is not touching anything else until we get clean."

"That's really not part of the bet though—" 

"It's either that or you jerk off in there alone, asshole!"

There really is no arguing with that tone of hers—and there's no way you'll even pass on the opportunity to shove your cock between her delicious tits, all soapy and slippery wet.

"Fine, fine—I'll behave." 

"God, good," Chaewon sighs again as the two of you stumble into the shower. She gets her moment of solace under the hot running water, taking a minute to rinse away all the mess of sweat and bodily fluids collected over the past while. Once you're both clean, you make good on your promise—so does she in return, pouring a generous amount of body wash over her chest, the suds lathering up her tits to create this perfect friction to slide through and let you do your thing.

And god, it's wonderful, every bit as euphoric and satisfying as when her lips wrap around your cock. Chaewon hardly has to do anything in particular, just keep a firm grasp on either side of her soapy, soft breasts in place for you to fuck into at whatever pace you'd like. It's not a long process—she barely has to squeeze her chest around your shaft, that wonderful slick friction enough to make you unload in no time, shooting a generous load all across her cleavage.

The perfect cherry on top of an already satisfying morning. A morning that feels like a blur, because it feels like you’ve been going at it for weeks. 

Once you turn off the water, dry off and find fresh clothes, you make your way back to the couch, exhausted and drained, with Chaewon draped over your body. It's oddly cozy, lying here together, not talking, not bickering, just enjoying each other's company with your limbs entangled.

It's probably the closest to romantic you two have ever gotten. Maybe you've finally fucked all the fight right out of her.

"Can't believe you actually kept your hands off me this time," Chaewon says and shifts over, resting her head on your chest, eyes looking straight up at you. "Normally, you can’t control your dumb fucking cock around me for thirty seconds."

You simply glare at her—not much energy left to deny that claim.

"You sound so disappointed."

Chaewon simply laughs, snuggled up in her position across your chest. "Don't flatter yourself. Just surprised is all."

She's right about that—it really is an impressive show of self restraint from you, holding yourself back from railing her against the shower glass and shooting another load inside her. Then again, you've got the rest of the week to indulge in all your fantasies and desires. No point exhausting yourself out so quickly. "Oh, don't you worry. I've got plenty of things planned for later. All week."

"Oh good. I can't wait," Chaewon sighs and eases back into your body, getting all kinds of comfortable. "Maybe if I'm lucky, you can bring a friend along next time and you can double team me."

Of all things she could say to surprise you, somehow that one manages to. "Like I'd ever share you with anyone—"

"Trying to keep me all to yourself? How romantic. Or jealous that someone might get me off better than you, then?"

"As if that'd ever fucking happen."

"Well, then I guess we're just stuck with each other forever then," Chaewon says with a tired smile, fingers casually stroking through your hair. "Stuck with my tight fucking ass, stuck with these perfect tits, stuck with my pretty little mouth that loves swallowing your cum. Poor you."

"I'll have to endure somehow."

Chaewon smacks lightly at your shoulder in jest. "God, what a fucking sacrifice."

With that, it prompts the smaller girl to push herself up off the sofa, shaking her head as she heads back towards the bedroom.

"Don't forget, we still need to change the sheets, you ass. No falling asleep yet."

"Fine," you grumble, following her swaying hips into the room. "It's not my fault you cum so much."

"Me? Have you seen how much fucking seed comes out of your dick? You’re like a fucking faucet, I swear,” Chaewon says, pointing a finger accusatively at you. “I'm not shampooing it out of my hair again, just because you can't learn the concept of proper aim.“ 

"Don't be so dramatic, brat. You're acting like you don't absolutely love being covered in it."

"Whatever. Your balls have like an infinite amount of cum, god—“

“That’s definitely your fault. Look at that fucking body of yours, how can I not resist blowing a load whenever I’m around you?” 

"Jesus, you're fucking insatiable. It’s called having self-restraint."

"Maybe, but that ass—"

Chaewon just groans, having far too much of this absurd conversation for her liking. “Look, if you prefer, next time I can just gush all over your couch and save you the trouble, then."

"Wouldn't be the first time you've ruined my furniture with your messy fucking orgasms anyway—"

"Stop blaming me! Oh my god, shut the fuck up, like you didn't ruin my favorite bra because you can't fucking help yourself from jizzing all over me!" Chaewon plants her hands on her curvy hips and glares as hard as she possibly can. And you have to admit, anger is a good look on her. 

But those messy sheets can wait. 

Because why would you bother with that when there's a dozen different places you can fuck her before the day is over? Why spend your time doing anything else but pinning Chaewon's lithe little body against the bedroom wall, and shoving your cock right back in her ass with a hand wrapped tight around her throat?

After this week is done, you're probably going to need a whole new bed.

So the sheets can fucking wait.

[pathologicalreid]

come home with me | s.r.

in which you are chosen as the member of the BAU who gets to retrieve Spencer from prison

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: post prison spencer, the events of green light apply, jareau!reader, kiss word count: 1.45k a/n: ohhhh she's listening to too much hadestown again. oh noooo.

The foreboding gray structure that stood before you was much more intimidating than you’d remembered Millburn Correctional Facility was written next to the door in a sans-serif font, still, boring, intimidating.

You hated it here. You despised everything that this building stood for in your life. Above all else, you hated that Spencer had been trapped inside for three months. There was little to no communication between you and Spencer during his incarceration, which wasn’t for a lack of trying. The one and only time you’d gone to visit him in Millburn, your appearance elicited a wolf whistle from one of the guards—Spencer’s discomfort was enough to keep you away.

Waiting outside with Penelope, Luke, and your sister, the four of you were lined up shoulder to shoulder, everyone too nervous to move forward. “I can’t go in,” Garcia said, looking between you and Luke while she shook her head. She hated going to visit Spencer, every time she came back from the prison, her mood had been negatively impacted.

Nodding assuredly, you quickly leaned your head on her shoulder, “We’ll go get him.” In your hand, you gripped a small canvas bag, you’d shoved everything you could think Spencer might need upon release—including some toiletries that had been completely untouched in the apartment, you weren’t sure if he’d been able to keep up with his usual hygiene routine in prison.

You assumed he hadn’t been.

Luke had some kind of ulterior motive in mind while entering the prison, so you and JJ linked pinkies at the same time he gave Penelope’s shoulder a squeeze and started making his way toward the steel doors of the prison. The three of you needed to shed your weapons, locking them up with the guards before Luke jutted his chin down the hallway and promised to meet up with you later.

Your head spun as you and JJ worked through clerical issues with the prison. Spencer was in solitary right now, finally receiving the protection that he should have gotten months ago, but he had to stab himself in the thigh to get there. No one else had been told, but Penelope handed Emily her resignation when she found out. The concrete building was freezing, and you hoped that Spencer had been staying warm enough during his time here.

Spencer, Spencer, Spencer.

Every waking moment for the last three months had been spent trying to figure out how to get him out of this, and the team had finally done it. You resisted the urge to pinch yourself. This was real, you were here.

“Only one of you,” one of the guards said, entirely disinterested in the emotional turmoil you were currently going through.

Your eyes met JJ’s briefly, and her blue eyes widened before she shook her head, “You should go,” she insisted, holding out a hand in the direction of the door.

Tightening your grip on the canvas bag, you nodded nervously and stepped through the metal detector, following the armed guard down the hallway until you reached yet another door. He swiped his badge through the stripe reader and opened the door, holding it open for you.

Against your better judgment, you faltered, scared of what you might see on the other side of the door. The guard cleared his throat impatiently and your feet thoughtlessly brought you forward.

Spencer was on the other side of the door, and you felt ridiculous for thinking you’d be met with anyone else except for him. Hauntingly familiar brown eyes were boring into yours expectantly, and even though you had promised yourself you weren’t going to cry, your throat was sealing itself with proof of a lie. Your eyes burned and you opened your mouth to speak before tears had a chance to fall, “Come home,” you beckoned.

You broke when he did, lips wavering between a smile and a frown as he broke free of the regulations he’d faced in Millburn, and the two of you snapped together like there was a magnetic pull between the two of you. The bag in your hands dropped to the ground as your arms went around each other. He smelled like antiseptic and generic laundry soap, you couldn’t pretend like you hadn’t seen the bandage around his arm from where they’d drawn blood, but you pushed it from your mind in the interim, focusing on repairing your memory. Reminding yourself of the edges of his body. There were more ridges than you remembered, and your chest clenched at the recognition that Spencer was inherently changed. It would’ve been foolish of you to cling to the idea that he could go to prison and come back as the Spencer that had been keeping your mind company—the memory of him that couldn’t match reality.

He sniffled and buried his face in your neck, his hot breath on your skin as neither of you faltered in your grip of each other. Spencer once told you that hugs were inherently healing because of the boost in oxytocin levels, and you’d taken that to heart just in case you ever faced this very moment. You tightened your grip around his shoulders, and he was holding you so tightly around your waist that your feet lifted slightly off of the ground. If it were up to you, you’d stay like this for hours intertwining your fingers between his shoulder blades and holding him together. You’d maintain your embrace until your body heat welded the broken pieces of him back together and his sharp edges were sanded down with time. You pressed your forehead into his shoulder and sighed three months’ worth of worry away, and as that worry ebbed, a new name echoed in your head.

Diana, Diana, Diana.

Spencer’s mother was missing, and he released his hold on you as you drew in a deep breath. Your feet were planted firmly on the ground as the two of you looked at each other, exchanging hundreds of thousands of words between your irises. “Spence,” you whispered, “I brought your things.”

You crouched down and grabbed the bag from the floor, holding it open for him to inspect its contents, his smile made you feel like you were floating. You were sure they were few and far between recently. More than that, you knew exactly what he was smiling at. Instead of picking out two socks for him, you’d grabbed a handful of them and put them in the bag, giving him the ability to choose a mismatched pair to wear out.

He wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his jumpsuit, “Thank you,” he breathed, his eyes flickering over to the guard that was still standing behind you.

Nodding, you carefully took his hand and let the guard lead you somewhere he could get changed, you planted your feet on the side of the hallway opposite of the guard. You narrowed your gaze at the guard, keeping your eyes open until they dried, and you had no choice but to blink. Other than that, your glare was unwavering.

“Y/N?” Spencer said, opening the door slightly, “Can you help me?”

You slipped through the door, alone in the bathroom with him as he gestured to his tie. You frowned for a moment before you noticed what the problem was, his hands were shaking. Each of them trembling uncontrollably with what was likely a melting pot of different emotions, and without giving it a second thought, you reached out and took both ends of the tie in your hands, deftly tying the double Windsor knot around his neck. You were careful when you tightened the knot, refraining from bringing it right up to the hollow of his throat in case he needed room to breathe. You looked up at him, studying the unreadable expression on his face before you whispered, “I’ve got you.”

Spencer’s Adam’s apple bobbed as his lips parted, and to your surprise, he craned his neck to press his lips to yours, kissing you with three months of pent-up emotions—good and bad. You gasped against his lips before kissing him back, matching his ferocity as your lips moved gently against his, a knock at the door was the only thing to pry the two of you apart.

You tried to get a read on him. You tried to understand the thoughts that were flashing behind his eyes at the speed of light, but you couldn’t get it. You wanted to ask, you wanted to check in on him, but he spoke first, “Let’s go get my mom.”

[mintyys-blog]

SCREAM FOR ME | mark variants x reader

MINI SERIES LIST | INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

summary:

In this dark alternate universe Invincible story, a normal human girl is caught in the chaos of the Invincible War. While helping the wounded, she catches the eye of Mohawk Mark—a ruthless variant of Mark Grayson—who spares her life and abducts her. She’s brought to a meeting with seven other dangerous Mark variants: Sinister Mark, No Mask Mark, Full Mask Mark, Prisoner Mark, Omni Mark, Striped Mark, and Viltrumite Mark. After threatening Angstrom Levy for portal access to new dimensions, the group is tricked and trapped on a barren desert planet.

As tensions rise and resources dwindle, the girl discovers a buried house with water and a strange creature she’s forced to kill. Her survival instincts earn the group’s respect, especially Mohawk Mark’s. Around a campfire, the variants share their dark pasts, slowly warming to her presence. She becomes more than a hostage—she becomes part of their fractured circle, a symbol of humanity in a world where they’ve long abandoned it. Though terrified of her growing bond with them, she can’t deny the spark of something deeper—and far more dangerous—taking root.

WARNINGS: kidnapping, (mentioned) mass homicide, blood, murder, starving, hinted cannibalism, smut, swearing, mature themes, sexual themes, obsession.

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

PART SEVEN

[covenofagatha]

Sex therapy

Your sexual life has been...lacking for the past year. Enter sex therapist Dr. Agatha Harkness to help you out.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: patient x therapist, mentions of sex and masturbation, guided orgasm, dirty talk

A/N: we just learned about sexual disorders in one of my classes and my professor kept talking about sex therapy lol so here we go (I hope this is good/hot I just genuinely couldn't stop thinking about it and had to write something) and maybe part 2?

The first thing you notice when you open the door to the waiting room is the smell. 

It’s slightly earthy with a hint of honeysuckle and sweet undertones. Not unpleasant, but it does little to calm your nerves. 

The lobby is small, cozy almost, with only four gray chairs tucked against one wall and a rectangular wooden coffee table in front of them with a short stack of magazines on it. 

Across from the furniture is the front desk and you step in front of it, waiting for the blonde receptionist sitting behind it to look up at you. She’s typing something on the computer and in the reflection of her glasses, it looks like she’s filling out a form. 

After standing there for a few moments, you clear your throat, trying to make it sound natural and not pointed. It works and the lady looks up at you with a smile that looks like more of a grimace. 

“How can I help you?” she asks. You tell her your name and she scrolls down on her screen before clicking. “First time?” 

“Oh, um, yes,” you answer, cheeks heating up. 

She looks you up and down. “You can go ahead and have a seat, you’re all checked in. Dr. Harkness will be with you shortly.” 

Muttering a quick “Thank you,” you pick the chair closest to the exit to settle into and anxiously tap your fingers against your leg. 

You barely have time to rethink your decision when a door on the wall of the front desk opens and a woman steps out. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun with a few strands loose and framing her face. She’s wearing white pants and a blue and gray striped shirt with black ankle boots. Black glasses rest on her nose. She looks around futilely—for there’s no one else in the room—before her eyes fall on you. 

She calls your name. You wipe your hands on your pants, swallow roughly, and stand up, nodding with a stiff smile. She beckons you forward and you obey, feeling a tug in your gut.  

“I’m Dr. Harkness,” she says warmly, pushing the door even more open so you can walk by her. You pause so she can get in front of you and she takes you down to the second door on the left. “But you can call me Agatha. I want you to feel comfortable while we’re here.” 

She opens it for you and you feel her hand on your lower back, guiding you in. It’s a small room, dark with about ten lit candles. There’s a warm scent of vanilla and jasmine and you deeply inhale. 

Agatha steps in next to you and the door closes shut behind you both. She points to the blue couch across from a chair. “Why don’t you have a seat there?”

The cushion dips under you as you perch on the edge and Agatha sits down in the chair and crosses one leg over the other, grabbing the yellow notepad from the side table and a pen in her left hand. You’re not exactly sure where to look—at the posters on the wall? At your fingers? At her? Who talks first? Should you say something?

She clicks the pen. “So, do you want to start with what brought you here to sex therapy?

You cringe at the words. Sex therapy is definitely not something you’d ever even think of. You didn’t even know what it was until about three weeks ago. It’s a bit unnerving how she just wants to get right into it—although, what kind of small talk were you expecting?—but you suppose you’re paying for a session so you might as well get the most of it.

“Um, I just…I just haven’t been having good sex lately. Like, I haven’t been feeling much at all and it’s fine, but I just can’t really focus or get into it, you know?” You pick at imaginary lint on your pants to avoid having to meet Agatha’s scrutinizing gaze. “I got a little drunk a month or so ago and was complaining to a friend about it. She said I should look into this and you were the closest therapist to me.”

Your friend had laughed when you told her that you hadn’t had an orgasm in about a year but her eyebrows had then shot up when she realized you were serious. She had promptly pulled out her phone and searched sex therapists near me. You had reluctantly moved next to her to scroll through the results and she let out a low whistle when she got to Agatha’s practice. She’d shown you the headshot of the woman sitting in front of you and you had to pretend to be unimpressed. 

But really, you felt more heat in your stomach than you had in awhile. 

“When did this start happening? When did you start noticing that you weren’t really feeling much?” 

It takes you a moment to ponder the question. Things had been relatively good with your ex-girlfriend two years ago. You had been together for almost two years before things just fizzled out. Both of you had decided the break up was for the best, even though the sex was normally pretty good. 

After that, there had been a series of hook-ups and flings, mostly casual sex that never turned into anything more. It had been alright, nothing special. You came about half the time. 

But then you’d gotten a promotion at work about a year ago and started seeing someone more seriously and sex turned into a chore. And when you did have sex, you stared blankly at the ceiling and couldn’t stop from thinking about all the work you had to do or making a grocery list in your head or desperately trying to will yourself to be into your girlfriend’s tongue on your clit but it just felt like nothing. 

It wasn’t her fault, no, the problem was you. Even masturbating seemed hard and you’d end up stopping in the middle of a session just because you weren’t getting anywhere. 

She had broken up with you about three months ago because you started rejecting her advances or just wanted to focus on her. You could make her come with no problem, but you shied away from her touch after, because even faking it was getting to be too much work. 

You haven’t even tried having sex since then. Seeing a therapist for your problem was clearly a long time coming and you’re not sure why you didn’t think about it sooner. 

“I don’t know, work has just become a lot and it’s hard to keep my mind from wandering while I’m having sex. I don’t know what changed—can stress really just kill your libido?” 

Agatha hums and frowns. “Sometimes. It’s not usual for it to essentially turn off feeling though. How’s the foreplay been before having sex?”

Shrugging, you pick at the skin on your cuticles. It’s a bit weird being this open about it with someone you just met. “Um, it’s not bad. There is foreplay. And I mean, there isn’t a problem with lubrication or anything.” Your cheeks heat up and you dare to peek up at Agatha. 

She’s staring at you with an intense look. It makes a strange feeling grow in your stomach, something akin to arousal if you had to put a name to it. 

“Are you actually attracted to the people you’re having sex with?” 

“What?—Of course,” you snap. She holds up her hands in defense and writes something on the notepad. But now that you think about it, and not that you’d ever tell her, you’re not sure that you have because you’ve never had the physical reaction you’re having to her with anyone else. 

Which is just great, really. Leave it to you to be attracted to your sex therapist, the one person who is arguably off-limits. 

Then you start to wonder if this happens often for her. Do her other patients blur the lines, start associating her with sex? You don’t actually know what you’re going to be doing in these sessions, but you could definitely see some lines being crossed in your head. 

“Are there any needs you have that might not be fulfilled in your sex life? Any kinks, fetishes, things you like that you aren’t engaging in that could bring you pleasure?” she asks, looking at you expectantly. 

How can she be so calm when it feels like you’re about to explode? “Not that I know of,” you answer hoarsely. 

“Hm. No choking or bondage or pain?” 

You choke on your own saliva. “I mean, I’m sure I like it as much as the next person, but it’s not necessary.” 

A wry smile plays on her lips at your attempt at deflective humor. “Daddy kink? Mommy kink? Degradation? Praise?” 

“I…I don’t know,” you rasp. For the first time in almost a year, you think you might actually want to touch yourself. 

Agatha thinks for a moment. “Well, first of all, you might want to experiment a little and see if there’s something you might like that will enhance your pleasure. A lot of patients find that impact play and things like that actually help clear your mind so you’re able to focus on just the sensation.” 

You nod, not sure what to say. How do I experiment? Can you help me? 

“But another thing you can try is sexual mediation. It centers around the practice of mindfulness and it’s a focus on sensuality and the current state of your body. Do you have a partner who can help you with this?” 

Shaking your head, you think you might see a gleam in her eyes. 

“That’s okay. You first want to find a quiet place with no distractions. Your bedroom would be a great place. Dim the lights, maybe light a candle, whatever helps set the mood. Sit on the floor and get comfortable; you can either lie down or sit up—”

“Do I wear clothes?” you interrupt, feeling bad immediately. 

She just smiles gently. “You can wear something loose or nothing at all, whatever your preference is. You can play music if that will help you tune other things out."

There’s a visible difference in her demeanor now, almost like she’s coming alive. Her hands gesture animatedly and her pupils are blown out and looking wildly all over your body. 

“Close your eyes and try to remain aware of your surroundings. Pay attention to your body, your breath, and any sounds. As you inhale, pull the air into your abdomen and imagine the stress leaving your body as you exhale. If stray thoughts get in, just accept them and move on. Visualize your body—visualize your desire. I like to tell my patients to think of it as an orb inside you. It starts out small, in your vagina, and then it grows bigger and spreads throughout you. Feel it spread.” 

Your chest is rapidly falling and rising, a sheen of sweat beading on your forehead. There’s an ache inside you right now—your orb of desire is red-hot and throbbing. 

“Try to be aware of your own body and what you’re feeling. The goal is heightened awareness, which can lead to increased arousal. If you have a partner, once you’re done visualizing yourself, shift that focus to your partner and think about how they’re feeling. If not, you can think about someone you find attractive or just skip this step entirely.” 

It feels like she put that part in there just to taunt you. Like she knows you find her attractive. You can’t think about her though, that would be so wrong. How would you come in here again and look her in the eye, knowing you had fantasized about her?

“Sexual meditation should take about twenty minutes and then you move on to intercourse or masturbation. The hope is that clearing your mind beforehand will allow your body to feel more. There’s things you can do with a partner, but for now, why don’t you start with trying that?” 

Your mouth is suddenly very dry. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good. Oh—what if it doesn’t work?”

Agatha smirks, eyes traveling down your body and back up to your face. “Then come back and see me.” 

——

You’re almost hoping that this doesn’t work, just so you’d have the excuse to go back and see her. 

But then it would mean that you could enjoy sex again, so that would definitely be the bigger win here. 

The lights in your room are turned off with four lit candles, all smelling like something different, resting on your dresser. You decide to strip down to just your bra and your underwear and sit criss-cross on a pillow on the floor. The silence is too loud so you grab your phone and turn on ocean noises. You’ve always felt more relaxed at the beach. 

Settling onto the pillow and shifting to get comfortable, you close your eyes and try to remember all of Agatha’s instructions. You inhale deeply, feeling your lungs expand, and then push out the air and imagine your stress seeping out of your bones. 

At work, you had to fix what could have been a very bad mistake if someone hadn’t caught it in the nick of time. But there could still be consequences if your boss found out and—If stray thoughts get in, just accept them and move on.

Another deep breath. 

Smell the mix of citrus and vanilla cinnamon and lavender and pumpkin. 

The air conditioning has goosebumps peppering with goosebumps but it keeps your mind sharp. 

The orb of desire. 

You picture it, red and glowing, small as a seed at first. It’s settled deep in your cunt. The image of Agatha smiling at you flashes against your eyelids and the orb grows to the size of a grape. 

No, not her! 

Agatha’s hands flutter around the air while she tells you exactly what to do to make yourself feel good. 

Stop! She’s your therapist! 

The alarm from your mind shatters the focus you had and the orb is completely gone. You grunt as you struggle and try to bring it back. Agatha won’t know if you’re thinking about her—in fact, if the thoughts get you to an orgasm, she’d probably be happy for you. 

But it’s too late. The moment is gone, the now-odorous blend of scents makes your head hurt, and you’re feeling vaguely confused by what is right and wrong. 

You might want to see an actual therapist about your self-sabotaging tendencies. 

——

“The meditation didn’t work?” Agatha asks a week later after taking a long sip from her coffee mug when you go back to see her. She’s wearing a black sweater and gray pants, hair loose, and it’s making your stomach feel fuzzy. You’re not actually sure why you came back but now you still can’t come and you’re sexually frustrated. 

Is that an improvement? Some might say it is. At least you’re feeling something. You had given in a day after your failed attempt at meditating and touched yourself, letting yourself think about Agatha, but each time you got close to an orgasm, you just couldn’t. 

“It helped a little,” you tell her truthfully. “I got in tune with my body and desire like you said. It actually felt good when I moved onto masturbation. But…” 

You trail off so she can hopefully fill in the gaps without you having to say more. She nods knowingly. “I see. It is a lot harder to sexually meditate on your own—it doesn’t always work.” 

The air gets sucked out of your lungs and your heart skips a beat. What is she suggesting? 

Agatha gestures to the ground. “We can try it, if you’d like.” 

A sound tears itself out from your throat, somewhere between a strangled gasp and a choke. 

She smirks. “Of course, without the sex.” 

You nod like it should’ve been obvious, feeling your face flush. “How does it work?” 

“Well first, let’s get comfortable,” she says, putting her notepad down on the side table and standing up. She kicks off her sandals, hikes up her pants just a little, and sits down on the floor, crossing one leg over the other. 

She nods to the spot across from her and you scramble to assume the same position. Now that you’re closer to her, maybe three feet between you, you can see the lines and creases on her face. You think they only make her more attractive. Her blue eyes look more gray today and you try not to look down at her lips. 

“Close your eyes,” she says and you do, enveloping your vision in darkness. You can feel your muscles tense but you roll back your shoulders and take a deep breath. The stiffness lessens. “Good job, there you go.” 

Her murmuring makes you shiver and there’s a slight melodic chuckle. 

“Work on breathing and getting in touch with your surroundings and then go through your five senses and tell me what you’re aware of.”

In…out…in…out…you lose yourself and almost forget what she asked you to do until she moves slightly and reminds you that you’re not alone. 

“I see my orb of desire,” you whisper. She hums softly. “It’s in my lower stomach, red, but small. I hear you, your breathing, and the rattle of the air conditioning. I can smell the candles, vanilla and jasmine. It’s good, calming. I can taste the spearmint from the gum I had in the car on my way here. And I can feel my body.” 

“Good,” Agatha says. “Focus on the orb. Feel it growing with your desire. Think about sex—think about lips on yours, moving down to kiss your chest, your breasts, hands on your hips holding you in place.” 

Your breath comes out gravelly and you imagine Agatha doing all that to you. Her lips on yours, her hands on your hips. You squirm despite yourself and swear that she’s smirking. The orb burns brighter, pulsing in time with your clit. 

When was the last time you were this wet? 

Agatha’s voice drops deeper. “Feel your partner running their fingers through your folds, teasing you, giving you pleasure.” 

A small moan escapes your lips and you’re momentarily distracted by praying that she didn’t hear it. 

“Feel the tension in your core increasing. Feel yourself becoming wetter. Feel your desire expanding and encompassing your body, your mind, all of you.” 

There’s a slight rustling noise and you sense her presence even closer to you now. You think you might be sucking air through a straw with how hard it’s become to breathe. 

Smooth skin touches your hands and you almost jump. Agatha slides her palms over yours and the sparks run straight to your cunt. Your head is spinning but simultaneously is the clearest it’s ever been. 

She takes over your senses—you can hear only her words and the way her tone becomes lighter and breathier, you can see only her in your mind, you can smell the coffee she was drinking, and she’s touching you—completely and utterly overwhelming you until there’s only her. 

You just wish you could find out how she tastes. 

“Focus on me now,” Agatha says, strangely affected. “Think about my body and my feelings. Think about my orb, my desire, and how it might be growing.” 

There’s an ache inside you that won’t go away, an ache that’s filling you up and leaving you hungry for something you can’t have. Your cunt is clenching, trying to draw something in that isn’t there, and when you shift forward just the slightest, there’s a pressure on your sensitive clit that makes you gasp. 

“I want you to think about your partner finally giving you what you want,” she purrs and you can hear the smirk in her voice. “Think about that moment when your partner slips their fingers into you, that moment of relief when you get what you’ve been waiting for.” 

It’s like you can feel it through just the touch of her hands on yours. You can imagine Agatha’s fingers gently thrusting into you for the first time, curling and immediately knowing what to do. 

There’s a thrumming under your skin that’s only getting worse, a tightening in your stomach. You haven’t felt this way in so long you almost don’t recognize it. 

You peer through your eyelids just in time to catch her pink tongue darting out and licking her lips and a pang of heat blasts through you. 

Now you can’t stop imagining her tongue on you, delving into your folds, circling your clit. 

Can she see how much of a mess you are right now? Does she like it? The thought makes your breath stutter. 

“Picture your pleasure as a flowing river,” she says thickly, hotly. “Up until now, it’s been hitting a dam. It’s being blocked. But we’re going to break it.” 

Agatha’s fingers start moving against your palm, dragging them up so they’re curled before sliding them back down. It’s soothing, grounding, but also indicative of what she would be doing if she was inside your cunt right now. 

Is that why she’s doing it? 

She presses harder and you can almost feel the stroking movements in your pussy, like she’s fucking you and filling you and proving that there’s nothing wrong with you. Her knees brush against yours and you shiver again. You’ve never felt more alive. 

“Let yourself become one with pleasure. Let it overtake you, let it overwhelm you. Feel your partner’s lips on your skin, sucking on your nipples, feel your walls clench around their fingers, feel their thumb on your clit. It’s so good it makes your eyes water and you’re dripping and you’re about to come—let yourself come.”

For the first time in a year, the dam breaks. The tension snaps. It’s more intense than you remember an orgasm ever being and your mind goes white briefly. 

“Agatha,” you moan softly, jerking your hips forward to prolong your pleasure with some pressure on your clit, and then you realize what you just said. 

Your eyes shoot open, a hazy cloud still hanging over you, to find the color in her eyes almost completely swallowed by a hot darkness. Her cheeks are flushed slightly—you’d probably miss it if you weren’t sitting so close—and her tongue runs out across her lips again. 

“I’m so sorry,” you exclaim, clamping a hand over your mouth. 

She smirks and waves a hand, brushing it off. “I’m flattered, honey. What’s really important is that you had an orgasm. How do you feel?” 

The dopamine is still giving you a high that you don’t want to ever come down from. “Really good,” you answer honestly and she laughs. 

“Well, I’m very proud of the progress you’ve made in only two sessions.” She stands up and you follow. Agatha starts walking to the door and it sobers you up a little for her to be throwing you out so quickly after that. She sees your crestfallen look and winks. “It’s my lunch break. And I need to take care of a few things.” 

The suggestive tone is not lost on you and you feel another burst of heat. Would it be stupid of you to ask if you could stay? 

Yes, you decide. 

But you do ask, “So, is this it, then? I’m cured; I don’t have to come back?” 

Agatha shrugs with a twinkle in her eye. “Totally up to you. Although, I’d recommend at least a few more sessions. Just to make sure you don’t have any more problems. Just because you can orgasm by yourself again doesn’t mean it’ll just come naturally with other people.” 

“Are you going to help me with that, too?” you say before you lose the nerve. 

She just winks at you and your clit aches all the way to the receptionist’s desk. 

You book another session. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1

[neopianbiologyproject]

Transparent Pets and the Transparent Chia

for background, Transparent is a cosmetic option one can change their Neopet to. for the mostly mammalian cast of Neopets, this typically shows the internal anatomy of the Neopet as if their skin and cartilage were transparent, displaying their skeleton and visible internal organs.

there are some notable examples among them: the Transparent Lenny has bones in its primary feathers, explaining their hand-like dexterity with those feathers! (other bird Neopets, like the Pteri, do not have these bones).

there's also the Grundo's alien organs, and the Ruki, which is an insect and thus has an exoskeleton, has a much different internal structure from its mammal counterparts

there's a lot we could get into here with the perceived anatomical correctness of these designs; the number of bones and placement or lack of certain organs is definitely not one would expect in a detailed anatomical diagram. but none of that is really important beyond what these designs signify about the species classification-wise, and the one new major outlier: the Transparent Chia

the Transparent Chia is unlike all other Neopets who have received Transparent designs. it is green; it does not have bones; it has unique organs; it resembles a plant cell.

below is my attempt to label the Transparent Chia as if it were a textbook diagram of a plant cell. I'm only an amateur biologist, so I discussed with some friends, including professional biologist @stackedcrates who taught me a lot!

(footnotes are below)

1 - Root Hairs: As I've been told it, root hairs would typically 1) comprise the full green shape of the hair and not just the pink inside, and 2) a cell with root hairs would not have chloroplasts. So if we accept the hair as root hairs, this is either a "novel evolutionary adaptation" or possibly the Chia is comprised of two to four large cells and potentially a colonial organism, which I find exciting.

2 - Vesicles, Peroxisomes, Lysosomes: It's impossible to actually distinguish these things from each other so I labelled them half based on evidence and half arbitrarily. Lysosomes are typically larger than peroxisomes, but both could also be most any other 'some. (Vesicles are not 'somes but they look similar in this type of diagram).

3 - The Endoplasmic Reticulum & Large Central Vacuole: In normal cells, the endoplasmic reticulum would touch the nucleus, so this ER is in a very unusual if not impossible spot. We floated the possibilities that we were wrong about the nucleus, the nucleus was actually what we'd labelled as the LCV, and even that our ER was just the rough ER and the yellow noodles (now labelled "Cytoskeletal Structures") were a very unusual smooth ER. But it seems overly likely that we're correct about the LCV and the nucleus, so I preferred this admittedly unsatisfying option compared to the rest.

4 - Chloroplasts and Mitochondria: You might notice that the chloroplasts as labelled have two different designs: one is striped while the other is simply green. The committee found the two similar enough to group them together, and I'm told it's common for the chloroplast to be depicted either way (I found more than one diagram that this art seems to be cribbing colors and design choices from). As for the mitochondria, it's possible that we have the chloroplasts and mitochondria swapped, and it's just as possible possible one of the three labelled is some other plastid that we didn't consider.

5 - Cytoskeletal Structures: We have no idea what these are. They're not really the right shape to be skeletal structures. Oh well!

6 - Amyloplast: @stackedcrates suggested this was an amyloplast, for storing starch, but that it could be another kind of plastid.

this attempt has many issues, but the real purpose of it is to prove that the Chia very closely resembles a plant cell, rather than correctly identify each part. @stackedcrates also emphasized that biology is full of exceptions, and with the Chia necessarily representing an unusual example, it doesn't behoove us to be beholden to statistical typicality. a few mistakes or professional disagreements are okay! in the end, it matters more that the parts are roughly represented.

I think we did well!

What does this mean for the project?

we'll be hereforth categorizing the Chia as among Plantae rather than Animalia. there was evidence for this before as the Chia is the only Neopet to have the unique Magical Chia Pop colors. the Maraquan Chia is also an anenome, which is an animal, but definitely the most plant-like of the aquatic animals.

maybe one could argue the Chia is a fungus, or even an animal-plant hybrid! where does that go in our taxonomy? I don't know! but science is exciting, isn't it?

[marvelseries19]

THE EDGE OF THE WORLD

Chapter Two - Castaway

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter Four

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x female agent reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: You are hurt, stranded, and alone on an unknown island with no one having an idea of where you might be. It was going to be a rough time, and Natasha wasn't having a better time trying to find you.

A/N: Hello again! I must confess I didn't even open this document all week, so I apologize for the delay. Also, I still suck at summaries, so don't read it too closely :) If you have questions, theories of what might happen, maybe something you'd like to see, or just talk about it, please do, I'm always open to talk. Enjoy :)

Also, I have like two more ideas, one is probably a one-shot that I'm not sure will see the light of day because it is based on one single scene that I liked, and the other is probably a series that I'm still trying to figure out, so if you have any ideas, I'm here to read them.

Warnings: +18, descriptions of injuries, language, etc.

Word count: 1.9k+

[You do not have permission to repost or translate any of my stories or claim them as yours.]

That morning

The soft glow of early morning light spilled through the curtains, casting golden stripes across the sheets. The apartment was quiet, suspended in that peaceful stillness just before everything changed.

You stirred slowly, feeling the warmth of Natasha curled around your back, her arm snug around your waist like it was instinct — like some part of her already knew to hold on a little tighter today. Her breath ghosted over the back of your neck, steady and calm, but there was tension beneath it. You felt it in the way her fingers gripped you — not possessive, just… tighter, as if afraid to let go.

You didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to break the fragile stillness between you.

But she spoke, her voice rough with sleep, quiet and thick with something heavier than usual.

“Stay... just a little longer.”

You turned slowly, meeting her eyes. They were tired, yes, but also brimming with something unspoken — something deeper than worry. Her hand slid along your jaw, thumb brushing against your cheek like she was trying to memorize every line of your face.

“I have to leave in a couple of hours,” you said softly. “Just a recon. Shouldn’t be anything serious.”

Her brows pinched together, and she exhaled through her nose, not buying it for a second. “I know what ‘shouldn’t be serious’ means with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

You gave her a small smile, fingers lacing with hers. “I’ll be back before you miss me.”

She didn’t smile. Instead, she leaned in and pressed her lips to your forehead, lingering. “I miss you the second you leave,” she whispered.

You swallowed the lump rising in your throat and reached up to cup her face. “Hey,” you said gently, “we’re okay. We’re solid. You and me.”

Natasha nodded slowly, but her voice was barely above a breath. “I just have a bad feeling.”

You opened your mouth to reassure her, to tell her you were careful, you were trained, you were prepared—but she kissed you instead. Desperate. Soft. Like it might be the last time.

You let it linger, one hand buried in her hair, the other resting over her heart.

“I’ll come back to you,” you murmured against her lips. “Always.”

She pulled away just enough to look at you, green eyes shining. “You better.”

Later that morning, as you pulled your gear together and checked your comms, Natasha stood in the doorway, arms crossed, silent. She didn’t stop you — she never would — but her eyes followed every movement you made like she was trying to commit it all to memory.

Just before you stepped out the door, she caught your hand and tugged you back for one last kiss. Her fingers brushed against the chain around your neck, where her ring already rested against your heart — always there, always worn.

“Come back,” she said softly. “Come back to me.”

You nodded, kissed her knuckles, and left with her watching you from the threshold.

Neither of you knew what was about to happen.

--

Now

The first thing Natasha noticed was the way Maria wouldn’t meet her eyes.

The second was the silence.

Natasha had been in enough briefings and enough war rooms to recognize when bad news was about to drop like a hammer. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared her for what she heard next.

“Nat,” Maria’s voice was steady, too steady. “There’s been an incident.”

Natasha’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. “Say it.”

Maria exhaled sharply. “Her Quinjet went down. Mid-flight. We lost contact before she could give a location.”

The room seemed to shrink around Natasha, her breath locking in her throat. Maria's words echoed in her mind as panic began to rise within her. “No.” The word came out flat, emotionless, but a cold dread was clawing up her spine. “You don’t just lose a Quinjet.”

Fury’s voice cut through the tension. “We believe it was an attack. There was a missile lock.”

Natasha barely heard the rest. Missile. Attack. No location. No body.

Her knees nearly buckled, but she locked them in place. Focus. This was just another mission. Another problem to solve.

Except it wasn’t.

Because it was you.

Maria stepped closer, her voice quieter. Softer. “Natasha, we have search teams deployed, but…”

But they won’t find her in time.

She turned on her heel and stormed out. If they weren’t going to find you, she would. Even if it killed her. The weight of the situation settled heavily on her shoulders as she made her way to the hangar, determination fueling her every step. Natasha knew she had to find you, no matter the cost.

--

Pain. Unrelenting, suffocating pain.

Your right side was a mess—ribs cracked, shoulder stiff and throbbing, head pounding. The pain threatened to pull you under, but every time the darkness crept in, you forced yourself forward.

You had hours, maybe a day at most,before dehydration set in. So you moved.

Through the pain, you held on to memories—moments that kept you from spiraling into despair.

Natasha’s smile when she caught you singing off-key in the kitchen.

The way she’d trace her fingers along your spine, whispering about the life you’d build together.

The day you proposed.

But what you didn't know was Natasha had her own plans. A few weeks later, she had presented you with her own ring. “I wanted you to have something of me, too. A piece of me to carry with you. Always.”

And you had. Up until the crash. Where the rings still hung from your neck.

Every step hurt. Bones, skin, lungs. The sun was blinding above the jagged cliffs, and your thoughts came in fragments—fire, explosion, water, screaming metal.

You didn’t remember the impact. Just falling. Then silence.

The Quinjet was gone. Your radio was dead, soaked, and broken. The utility belt strapped to your waist had a partially intact emergency kit—some gauze, flares, and a water filtration capsule. Not much.

The ring around your neck pressed into your collarbone as you walked.

You touched it instinctively. Natasha. The last thing you saw before you left.

You kept moving, eyes sweeping the tree line, heart pounding. You shouted. Over and over. “HELLO?!” But your voice vanished into the jungle. No answer. "Of course, I'm alone." You whispered to yourself.

By late afternoon, your stomach was twisting with hunger. As you sat near a palm tree attempting to put together a plan to get food, the solution literally fell from the sky. Well, from the tree above you.

Coconuts.

Not only could you eat part of it, but you could also drink its contents, and for now that was enough to keep your hopes up. It took everything in you to climb the trees to get more, but pain wasn't unfamiliar. So, you pushed through. You gathered as many as you could carry and took them with you to where you wanted to set camp. With that, a new problem arose.

Opening them.

Looking around, you saw a rock; it seemed pointed enough to make a hole in them. However, there was no way you could just hit it against the rock; your ribs were already killing you. So, with another rock, you gave the first hit at the fruit.

Then another. And another. By the fourth hit, the rock broke into pieces. Which could've disappointed you, had it not been for the new shape of it. It was almost like an axe, and you could work with that.

It wasn't long before you could crack open the coconut, revealing the refreshing water inside. As you took a long drink, you felt a sense of accomplishment and relief wash over you. It wasn't much yet, but it helped.

That night, you huddled beneath a slanted palm trunk. You gathered some leaves from the trees, attempting to at least help shelter yourself against the wind, and it worked; the sand was warm enough, not comfortable, but nothing too bad, and not being as exposed to the cold wind kept you satisfied enough for the night.

The sound of the crashing waves lulled you to sleep. Only to wake up a while later having dreamed of Natasha's voice calling your name, but when you woke—there was only the ocean again.

By the second day, you limped along the shoreline, tracking debris. You found part of a panel—charred, mangled metal. A utility case half-buried in the sand. It held nothing useful. Just a broken comm and a singed emergency beacon. You smashed it open and salvaged the battery.

You tried to make a fire. Used your belt buckle, broken glass, anything. But the fire wouldn’t catch. Everything was too wet. Your hands blistered. Your throat was hoarse from shouting.

At one point, you kicked a driftwood log and screamed into the empty beach.

“COME ON!”

Your voice echoed back, hollow and cruel.

And of course, your injuries protested.

By the third, you spotted a cliff ledge—high enough to see out over the water. You climbed slowly, painfully, scraping your palms on rock and bark. When you reached the top, you saw nothing.

Just water.

Endless, stretching to the edge of the world.

You built a signal—stones arranged in a wide SOS across the sand below. It looked so small from up high.

That night, you returned to the ledge, pressed your back against the cliff wall, knees drawn to your chest. You took the ring from beneath your shirt and held it tight in your palm.

“I’m still here,” you whispered to no one. “I’m trying, Nat. I’m trying.”

—

Back at HQ, Natasha didn’t sleep. Couldn’t.

She tore through every satellite feed, every transmission log, and every scrap of telemetry the techs could dig up. Footage. Heat signatures. Sea drift patterns. She chased ghosts across the grid, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched so tight her teeth ached.

Every dead end chipped away at her resolve—but not her focus. She wouldn’t let it. She couldn’t. This wasn’t the first time someone she loved had gone missing. But it was the first time she truly had something to lose.

Clint showed up on the second day with takeout and a quiet, worried look in his eyes. He didn’t tell her to sleep. Didn’t tell her to eat. Just left the food on the table and sat across from her, offering nothing but silent company as she worked like a machine.

She didn’t touch the food.

Didn’t speak.

By the third day, she felt like she was drowning—but not in water. In helplessness. In rage. In fear that clung to her like smoke. There were moments—brief, flashing, cruel—when her breath caught and her mind whispered the word she refused to say.

Gone.

But she wouldn’t say it. Wouldn’t believe it.

Instead, she gripped the chain around her neck, the engagement ring pressing hard into her skin like it might fuse there. A lifeline. A promise.

She could still hear your voice in her memory—laughing, soft, unguarded. The way you’d look at her when you thought she wasn’t paying attention. The way you kissed her like the world wasn’t ending.

And now it might have been.

She stared at the map on the screen in front of her—ocean, coordinates, empty space. She blinked and for a moment saw you standing there in the doorway of your shared apartment, in that oversized hoodie, holding a mug of tea and smiling like the world didn’t scare you.

She clenched her fists.

No.

You were still out there. You had to be. Somewhere in that vast, blue nothing, you were breathing. Fighting. Holding on.

Because if you weren't, then she didn’t know how to be Natasha anymore.

She refused to grieve. Not yet. Because if there was even a chance—just one glimmer of hope—then she was going to find you.

She always did.

----

TAGLIST: @womenarehotsstuff @idontliketoread2137 @seventeen-x @ctrlaltedits @ciaoooooo111 @unexpected-character

[voxslays]

FOUR ZERO SEVEN — THANOS

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, addiction, and angst. A/N: I hope you enjoy!

You were Thanos’ ex girlfriend. The once who had dumped him after months and months of trying to ‘fix’ his drug addiction. But it never worked—nothing ever really helped him. So you left. You thought by leaving, it might fix things—give him some air.

Little did you know at the time though—you were pregnant, with his child. You were actually already a few months along. How could you not have noticed sooner? You asked yourself angrily. Yet, you decided to keep the baby, vowing to create a good life for the child.

Your life went downhill from there. Working two to three shifts daily, never having time for yourself. You lived in a small two bedroom apartment you could barely afford as is. The walls seemed like they were closing in around you, until you found a man at a train station.

You played Ddakji with the man, and he gave you hope. Hope that your life could one day soon change for the better. Yet, when you surprisingly woke up in a bunk bed in a room with 455 others, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread.

After the first game, you finally understood that dread. It was fear. A fear that intensified as your ex walked up to you, likely high. He was wearing the same green and white striped tracksuit you were, but with the number 230 instead of your number 177.

“Señorita!” Thanos jests enthusiastically, pulling your smaller figure into his. “Long time no see, my girl.” He lets out a little ‘skrrr’ sound as he looks you up and down. “Su-bong.” You greet cautiously, instinctively rubbing your stomach.

Thanos watches your movements closely, then his eyes widen. He quickly pulls your jacket down to reveal your baby bump. He freezes then swallows hard. He slowly meets your eyes again. “How long?” He asks softly. Almost too softly. Almost like he was scared of the answer.

“Thanos, I-” Thanos interrupts you by pulling you into a tight hug. He buries his face into your hair and inhales your scent deeply. He holds you so tightly, like he was scared you’d disappear again. He speaks into your hair, his voice muffled. “It’s mine, isn’t it?

“Yes.” You whisper. He runs his hand softly over your baby bump, a strange mix of tenderness and fear in his eyes that he hasn't shown anyone before. The same hand that's pushed people to their deaths is now gently caressing your growing lower belly. "Fuck, why didn't you tell me?" His voice breaks slightly.

Thanos runs his hand softly over your baby bump, a strange mix of tenderness and fear in his eyes that he hasn't shown anyone before. The same hand that's killed and tortured is now gently caressing your growing belly. "Fuck, why didn't you tell me?" His voice breaks slightly.

His expression darkens as he steps back, running a frustrated hand through his hair. His chocolate eyes flick down to your bump again before meeting your gaze, accusation plain. "What, were you just gonna hide it from me forever? Keep my kid a secret?"

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t think you’d care!” You snap back, hormones raging. "You should have told me, princess." He says. “I’m sorry.” You sigh, beginning to turn away. He grabs your arm, stopping you from leaving. His grip is firm but not painful. He turns you back to face him, his expression softening a little.

"Don't fucking apologize for this." He gestures to your belly. "I'm not mad that you didn't tell me right away." Su-bong pauses. “Well do this together?” You ask hopefully. “Together.”

[wandaslovey]

𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇’𝓈 𝓆𝓊𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓁

➺ pastor’s!wife!wanda x fem!reader

wc ~ 3.4k

a/n: i just finished watching love & death for the 4th time and it made me go absolutely feral for lizzie with a southern accent. i’m debating whether or not i want to make this a short series—especially writing a second part where i better establish the background of these two characters. let me know if you guys would like a part 2!

*not proofread*

cw: brief mentions of religious background, infidelity/cheating, forbidden relationship, legal age gap, established relationship, reader almost smokes a cigarette but doesn’t, punishment, [wo]man-handling, spanking, humiliation, inspection, finger licking/sucking, praise, mommy kink, reader is kind of a whiny brat in this fic (she’s really just overstimulated), and some fluff at the end

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ୨♡୧ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you pace back and forth along the side of a red and white striped tent, kicking up some dirt and rocks as your feet drag. your skin feels like it’s tingling and your ears cringing at the sheer amount of sounds coming from the carnival you were currently at. you reach into your bra, retrieving one of the two cigarettes you had secretly stashed there unbeknownst to wanda. it was very unlike you—the smoking—but it was a nasty habit you picked up during your rebellious teen years. wanda had been trying to break you of it for months now. she’d gone as far as taking it upon herself to search through your things every time you two escaped to a town over to be together. any time she found a pack or a lone cigarette, she would throw it away claiming that her “sweet baby” shouldn’t be doing such a thing as “harming her own lungs.”

you hadn’t actually smoked one in awhile, but knowing you were coming here today, you stashed a couple in case you became overstimulated, which you now were. it didn’t help that you were already in a sour mood upon arriving here. wanda was all smiles and encouragement, happy and chipper to spend time with you. you weren’t sure why you were in such a poor mood, especially since you got to be with her, but at the moment you couldn’t care less about the series of events that may have drove you into this corner.

you pat your other breast, seeking the lighter but it wasn’t there. shit, you must’ve left it in your overnight bag or maybe in wanda’s car. with the cigarette hanging limply from your lips, you stupidly look around you as if there would be something around you to light it.

as you step out from behind the circus-like tent, you scan the small herds of people surrounding the area. there were so many families here along with couples and groups of young teens out with their friends. you hated being in places that were overly crowded. stepping out into this scene only made you feel worse and just when you were about to step back to your makeshift hiding place, you spot wanda walking rather briskly over to you. she was clutching onto the straps of her purse with two hands, her eyes intent on you as she made her way seamlessly through the crowds to get to you. normally, the look on her face would make you cower instantly, but you were in no mood to give into her dominating presence.

the cigarette that had been dangling from your lips was now stuffed back into your bra, your hands shoving themselves into the pockets of your t-shirt dress.

“now just where the hell did you think you were going? i’ve been looking all over for you, (y/n).” her southern accent bled into her words, which under different circumstances you loved, but right now that fact didn’t matter.

you cross your arms over your chest, taking a step around her as you attempt to walk away to blend in with the other crowds of people. she easily falls into step next to you, looking at you expectantly.

“i just needed a minute,” you say in a monotone voice, looking straight forward as you walk. clearly, she’s not sufficed with your answer. you count three, four, five steps before you feel her arm wrap around your bicep, her fingers curling tightly but not painfully as she pulls you back to the side, ducking around the corner of a carnival game tent.

“what is going on with you? you’ve been nothing but a fuss pot ever since i picked you up.” she uses her thumb and forefinger to hold your chin in place as you look up at her, her other hand still holding onto your arm. you feel your tough facade begin to crack, fissures seeping into your mind that made you want to cave and pout like the little girl you felt like right now.

“mm’fine wanda,” you mumble, looking at her pretty blonde cropped hair instead of her eyes. when you were in a mood like this, her eyes were the most dangerous place to look. those green orbs wielded more power than any god you’d ever been told to believe in.

“(y/n). look at me.” she commands, her fingers gripping more firmly onto your chin. she gently shakes your head back and forth until she gets the desired reaction and your eyes meet hers. you immediately feel a little more wobbly where you stand, her eyes all but piercing into your soul. “do not lie to me. ever. do you hear me little miss? i know something is going on with you.”

your bottom lip quivers slightly, jutting out into a pout and wanda watches your eyes widen and go soft around the edges, mimicking that of a guilty puppy. you hold eye contact with her for another second and all of a sudden the invisible cracks in your mind remold themselves. you harshly turn your head to the side, freeing your chin from her grasp. you didn’t want to give into her just yet.

“don’t wanna talk about it. let’s just go have some fun or whatever the fuck it is you’re supposed to do in this godforsaken shit show.”

you turn from her, already out in the midst of groups of other people before wanda can think about grabbing you again. from her place at the side of the tent, she watches you walk away, exhaling slowly to maintain her nerve before she catches up to you.

for the next hour or so, you go from tent to tent, playing the rigged games and forcing yourself to “have fun.” after being unkind to a couple of the attendants and giving her attitude for the last while, wanda was at her wits end. she had no idea what was going on with you and no matter how gently or forcibly she probed, you refused to tell her what was wrong.

it wasn’t until your final throw at a bean bag toss that she decided enough was enough. after hearing your “this was never my idea to be here” comment under your breath, she grabs your arm again, all but dragging you out of the carnival. there was a group of teenagers who stopped to watch you as you huffed, kicked and dragged your feet along as wanda pulled you wordlessly to the parking lot, but neither you nor she could care about that now.

she rummages through her purse with her free hand, angrily retrieving her keys at last as she unlocks the car. she opens the passenger back seat door, all but shoving you inside of it before shutting the door firmly behind you. she hurries to the other side, coming into the backseat with you.

a thick silence falls over the car, her eyes burning holes into the side of your face as you had yet to look at her. wanda wasn’t sure what to say—which approach would best get through to you in this moment.

“i’m going to give you one more opportunity to explain yourself before you’re in even bigger trouble than you already are.” her voice was artificially calm. anyone else would perceive her now as perfectly composed, but you knew better. you picked up on all the subtleties—the slight shake in her voice at the end of her sentence and her hands twitching ever so slightly. you had really pushed her today and you knew a punishment was inevitable. as you sat there in the silence of the car, you realized that subconsciously you were making today enormously difficult on purpose to earn her harsher hand. you were normally such a good girl for her, but today was about pushing buttons—and you really were overstimulated from everything at the carnival.

you glance at her from your peripheral vision, inhaling slowly as you begin to fidget with your hands in your lap. wanda’s normally impeccable patience had gone thin though, and when another beat of silence passed over the two of you, she was done waiting. she reaches over the middle seat, pulling your body till it was flush with hers. she lifts your legs over her lap, bending them in a slight awkward angle from being pressed against the side of the door. a gentle hand lifts your face, her fingers smoothing some of the frizz from your hair before she tucks the strands behind your ear.

“what happened to my sweet girl, hmm?” this time her voice was genuine and warm, her facial expression softening. she knew that paired with her sugary sweet sweetness and being wrapped up in her arms, you would melt. you could never deny the fact that regardless of your mood, you always wanted to be her good girl and to please her.

your pout from earlier came back full force as you began to feel a pang of guilt growing in your tummy. you had been unfair to her today, giving her attitude for no reason and denying her comfort at every turn. she deserved better.

your nimble fingers find the collar of her blouse and you fidget with the material absentmindedly. your brows pull together like you’re thinking hard about something as you stare at a random spot on her chest.

“i’m sorry, wanda,” you mumble, the edge of a whine in your tone. she strokes the back of your head, beginning to gently coax you into that fuzzy headspace you both love so much.

“well i sure do appreciate that, but an apology’s not what i asked for, is it?” you shake your head at her question, curling further into yourself to feel smaller in her lap. she easily adjusted her arm to support the new distribution of your weight while the hand on her other arm continued to caress the side of your cheek.

it was almost pathetic how easily you gave in to her touch. it had barely been a couple of minutes and you were already feeling much more compliant.

“i…it was just loud and bright,” you state simply in a small voice, offering no further explanation. you hoped she didn’t need clarification since you didn’t feel much like talking at the moment.

“the carnival? was my darling girl feeling a little overstimulated?” she asks sympathetically, tapping her finger against your cheek so you know to look up at her. your eyes slowly drag up her neck and her face until you’re looking in her eyes again. you nod once, your pout becoming impossibly deeper. she hums, a hand at the back of your head as she presses her lips against your forehead, planting a kiss there.

“i’m sorry sugar, mommy didn’t know. you have to tell me these things, honey. as much as i’d like to, i can’t read your mind.” she kisses your temple, watching your shoulders shrug in response to her comment. you wished she could read your mind. there were so many things you knew you needed to communicate to her that your stubborn refusal prohibited you from sharing.

“i really am sorry you were uncomfortable today sweetheart, that was never my intention. now i know for next time, right?” she pauses for a moment, noticing your line of sight was on your fingers that were still fiddling with her top.

“however, you did fail to communicate your needs with me despite the fact that i tried to get you to talk to me. on top of that, you were snotty and rude to not only me, but a few of the workers at the fair. you understand that is unacceptable, right?” she watches your head nod a few times, your eyes glazing over and she knows that right now, you’re her compliant little girl and you’ve already accepted your consequences.

“mommy’s gonna have to punish you. you understand why now, don’t you baby?” you nod once, but still clutch onto the collar of her shirt, your thighs pressing together as the word “punishment” passes through her lips. it doesn’t go unnoticed by wanda, but she chooses not to acknowledge it for now.

wanda gently pries your fingers from her shirt, maneuvering the both of you until you were face down across her lap. she had one of her legs crossed over the other so your lower back had a nice arch, your ass sitting higher in the air. she lifts your dress up over your rear, bunching the material at the middle of your back.

she hums to herself, her mouth watering slightly at the sight of your cute ass framed by your cheeky baby blue lace underwear.

“oh baby doll, you have the cutest, spankable cheeks, you know that?” the first teasing smack lands on your right cheek, already warming the skin. you groan at her question, feeling your panties dampen and the urge to press your thighs more firmly together.

“i’m going to spank you 40 times. i want you to count and say ‘i’m sorry mommy,’ for each spank. understood?” her hand caresses over the skin she just smacked, soothing the slight sting.

“yes mommy,” you reply, your voice muffled as your face was half pressed into the car seat. wanda purrs at your obedience, giving your ass cheek a squeeze. “good girl,” she murmurs, still rubbing your backside.

the first real smack lands on your left cheek, your body jerking slightly from the force. “one, i’m sorry mommy.” you breath out. you weren’t expecting her to start out so strong.

another blow. “two, i’m sorry mommy.” she measured the hit, ensuring she hit the same spot twice.

smack. “three, i’m sorry mommy.” you bite your lip, your core beginning to tingle.

smack. “four, i’m sorry mommy.” you feel your arousal continuing to wet your panties.

smack. “ffive—i’m sorry mommy!” you press your thighs together, only relieving a bit of the ache that was rapidly growing between your legs.

you hadn’t taken an inordinate amount of spankings, but you experienced enough that you knew that on average, the pain just surpassed the pleasure after about 18 hits. by the sixteenth one, your small pitiful whimpers turned to whines, and by the twenty-fifth the first low sob tore through your throat. tears were beginning to prick your eyes, threatening to roll down your pink tinged cheeks.

wanda pauses after the thirtieth spank, unable to ignore your increasingly squirmy little body. she could see your legs pressed firmly together, your body desperately trying to grind down onto her thighs. she tuts, tapping the back of your thigh in a silent command to open your legs. you feel a singular finger trace down your slit through your panties, the sticky feeling causing you to groan.

“oh sweetheart, look at you—all wet and sticky..” she trails off, her finger purposely rubbing up against your clit before she swipes back down to your opening. “you like it when mommy hurts you, don’t you?” it was mostly a rhetorical question, your arousal being evidence enough.

she brings her arousal coated finger up to your lips, which you eagerly suck into your mouth. you hum around the digit, swirling your tongue around it as any last rational thoughts you had turn to static.

“such a naughty baby. good little girls aren’t supposed to get so aroused by a punishment.” she pulls her finger from your mouth, a small popping noise emitting from the action.

“mommy,” you whimper pathetically, not quite sure exactly what you were begging for. you were past thinking clearly.

“shhh, i know honey. just 10 more spanks and then i’ll be done,” she runs a soothing hand down your back and then presses it down in the middle of your lower back. her last 10 smacks are just as harsh if not more than the other 30. by the end, the tears that been building in your eyes were spilling down your cheeks and you begin sniffling as your nose starts to run.

her hand carefully rubs across your now red, inflamed skin. she marvels at the sight. it was a bit sadistic, but she loved seeing the aftermath of a good spanking.

“mmm, i love it when you cry for me, baby.” her other hand finds its way into your hair, her fingernails gently scratching against your scalp. you melt into her affection, your body laying limply across her lap.

“let’s see how much more sticky sweetness is between these legs now, hmm?” she readjusts her hold on you, her leg propping you upright so your back is nice and arched again. her finger returns to your panties, finding them completely soaked through and ruined. you hear her chuckle amusedly before she presses the soiled material up against your opening, her fingertip just barely pushing into your hole. you let out shrill whine, your hips backing up into her touch. she shushes you, sliding your panties to the side and you all but jump as her finger grazes up against your unclothed pussy. she gathers the wetness there, drawing a line up and down your slit, taunting you. you bite down hard on your bottom lip, your hips wriggling under her touch.

“hush now… let me see.. ohhh, my listen to that.” you moan, her index finger sliding tantalizingly slow inside of you. you can hear your pussy squelching as she does so, your walls desperately clamping down around her digit. she wiggles it as far as it’ll go, her knuckles brushing against your clit. she does an experimental bend of her finger, your body jerking in response as she stimulates your g-spot.

just when you start to finally feel some relief, she slowly withdraws her finger. as she pulls it away, a string of arousal clings to her finger, connecting your went cunt to her before she pulls it far enough away that it disappears. she was going to have you clean it off, but the sight was too delicious to resist. she sucks her own finger into her mouth, cleaning off the evidence of your wetness. you swear you hear a small purr of pleasure coming from her, but you couldn’t be sure with your heart pounding in your ears.

she smooths your dress back over your ass, grabbing onto your waist and twisting you so you were now sitting facing her upright on her lap. she reaches up and holds the side of your face, a twinge of a smile on her lips as she notices your dismayed expression. she pouts sympathetically, stroking your cheek with her thumb.

“what did we learn today, (y/n)?” you don’t stop pouting as you answer. “to not be mean and to communicate my feelings..” you mumble, your expression solemn and wounded as if you had just been told the saddest thing. it turned out one of the most tragic things was having wanda tease you and then leave you high and dry.

“that’s right, sweetness. good job.” she smiles warmly, kissing your nose affectionately.

“you did so good for me, sugar. mommy’s very proud of you.” she smiles encouragingly, and despite how mopey you felt about being denied an orgasm, you glow under her praise and affection. you purse your lips together as you try to smother a smile threatening to cross your lips. wanda chuckles at this, playfully tapping her finger against your nose.

“i see that smile, little girl. you can’t fool me.” she attacks the side of your face with kisses, a wide smile now erupting across your face as you giggle gleefully.

“you’re gonna make my face all soggy—quit it!” you protest lightly, half heartedly pushing against her chest to put some space between your faces. wanda makes a mock gasp.

“i beg your pardon, missy? i can give you all the kisses i want!” she growls playfully through gritted teeth before she plants more sloppy kisses all over your face. you squeal and giggle, finding that moving your face around did nothing but give her new places to kiss.

you were so happy and content in your little wanda bubble. you never wanted it to pop.

[crowdsourcedgender]

My zine, 'Label Coining as an Artform', is finally done! Transcript/Image ID underneath (warning: it's long). Printed version in a reblog.

[Image ID: A series of pages in a zine. The text is handwritten, and all figures described are simplified stick figures.

Page 1: ‘LABEL COINING as an ARTFORM in large text. Below is the multicolored MOGAI wheel, with three figures taking pieces of the colors and using them for art: sculpting, cutting a piece of paper, and painting. Below is ‘a MOGAI (& LIOM!) zine by Elliot/Hesper aka @ crowdsourcedgender on tumblr. Under the text are five pride flags: aro-spec, veldian, alterhuman, xenoman, and schooldoodlic.

Page 2: ‘Label Coining’ in large pink text. ‘(in this context) is the act of creating a word (and usually flag) for a certain experience!’. Next to this text is a figure filled in with pink with a speech bubble full of pink shapes, talking to someone using a cane holding out a hand and expressing a question mark. Below reads ‘generally a queer experience, but does often include or incorporate disability, neurodivergence etc.’ A figure asks ‘Why?’ and the text reads ‘I would say these are the ‘core tenets’:’. In a cloud next to this text is a blue and purple pride flag with purple text reading: ‘like this cool prosopagnosia flag I made!’.

The bottom half of the page is split into two columns: ‘Understanding’ and ‘Community’. The first column has a purple arm amputee explaining a purple rectangle to another purple person who is thinking ‘that’s me!!’. Next to them another purple person is explaining the same rectangle to a blank person, who has a purple-filled thought bubble with a white exclamation mark. Underneath the drawing is text surrounded by question marks: ‘Labels help people understand what they are experiencing, and communicate this to others. It’s easier to explain something when it’s already been written down!” The second column has a purple person holding a purple umbrella. They are waving to a purple person in a wheelchair. A purple person is leading another one to the group. Underneath the drawing is text surrounded by connected dots: ‘People can unite under a shared label whether this group is big or small! Whether for practical purposes (like advice) or just for fun, having people like you is nice.

Page 3: ‘And these are just as important as ever! But I’ve noticed what I like to call COINING for the sake of CREATION’. This last phrase is in large, dark and light blue text. Two sun symbols are on either side. Below is the text: ‘Vexillology is very clearly an artform, but label coining has become something more (not to mention that not all new labels have flags!). It’s composed of multiple skills has become more than the sum of its parts. Any art captures an experience, but label coining is much more explicit about it. And not just people’s experience of their identity! Part of the art of label coining is incorporating other concepts too, e.g. Schooldoodlic A gender related to doodling on school work papers and/or your homework. By spirits-gender-coining on Tumblr.’ The text about Schooldoodlic is small and light teal. Next to the text is its flag.

Page 4: ‘Elements of Label Coining’. The text on this page is separated into four green boxes.

‘Naming: Coming up with the actual word can be tricky. Generally, labels with lots of elements get more leeway with length. It’s important to check that a label isn’t already a word as well.’ Next to this text is more rough, dark green text reading ‘Premade suffixes + prefixes help! And latin (for some languages) as it’s possible to intuit meaning!’ Around the text is a few examples: ‘-vesil’ ‘-musica’ ‘an-’ ‘quoi-’

‘Flag making: Also known as vexillology, this is a pretty big deal. It’s also the most fun for me! You develop a really good sense of color from spending so much recoloring the same three stripes.’ Next to the text is 6 versions of the same pride flag, each with slightly different colors, with a 7th final version with a symbol.

‘Symbol making: Most flags don’t have symbols, but they’re good for groups of labels under a certain umbrella, or just if you have a really good idea.’ Next to this is rough, dark green text reading: ‘I drew three semirealistic flowers for a flag and ended up only using one’ with sad face. Under it is a drawing of a daisy, a pink coneflower, and lavender, which is circled.

‘Descriptions/formatting: Explanations can be artistic in their own right, and formatting is fun to mess with: many people have their own style. Make sure it’s accessible: add image IDs and plain text where applicable. There are a lot of good resources online!’ In dark green text is the phrase ‘Accessibility over Aesthetics’ with an image of a key on top and sparkles below.

Underneath the boxes in light green text is ‘Note: in the right context, any of these can be optional!’

Page 5: ‘If it wasn’t clear, I think this is AWESOME’. Awesome is in large text with yellow radiating lines. Underneath is ‘I’m a MOGAI coiner myself (generally) with about 65 coins at time of drawing. Using something I made, I wanted to demonstrate what a label coining might look like!’ Underneath is four versions of the same pride flag as well as a description, with ‘flag!’ ‘stripe meanings (I don’t normally do these)’ ‘symbol’ ‘name’ ‘pre-existing format’ and ‘experience’ labelled. The description reads ‘[Image ID was here] Human non-conforming (HNC). Human non-conforming (HNC, similar to gender non-conforming) is an umbrella label encompassing all identities and subcultures that somehow incorporate nonhuman elements in any way.’

Page 6: ‘The thing I love most about the label coining community is just that- the community! The way coiners and users interact, as well as how coiners can work together, is wonderful. There are 5 large words each with an associated doodle.

‘Requesting’: A figure leaning on forearm crutches has a speech bubble with yellow shapes exploding out of it. Another figure is taking shapes down from the bubble and forming it into a ball.

‘Collecting’: A figure is pulling a yellow cart with a large cloth bag labelled ‘LABELS’. They have stars in their eyes, and are looking at another person who is gesturing to a yellow rectangle.

‘Collaborating’: Two figures, one with orange speech and one with yellow speech and an AAC tablet are discussing, with many shapes and lines intermingling to make a fragmented rectangle.

‘Combining’: A figure in a grey hijab pulls down a lever. They are standing next to a large blender mixing orange and yellow liquids. On either side is bright yellow lightning.

‘Redesiging’: A small star with four radial lines coming out of it becomes more and more complex, indicated by black arrows.

Under the words is the text: ‘I’ve never participated, but there’s this amazing event called: COINFIGHT. Hosted by @ kiruliom on Tumblr. It’s inspired by artfight, and it involves coining labels for other people- but competitive-ish!’ Coinfight is in large, text with a crescent moon with stars at the top right corner, and a star at the bottom left.

Page 7: ‘I don’t think there’s anything like finding a label that finally fits you, or hearing that something you made did that for someone else.’ Under is a figure looking at an orange flower with light lines, then forming elements of the flower into a bubble, then showing an orange rectangle to another figure, with orange tendrils reaching towards them, forming the shape of a heart. Below is the text ‘There are a lot of things like pouring out your heart- or just having fun- while making or collecting label. I coin in the same mind I sketch and color and shade.’ On each side is a pen drawing an orange figure with a red shirt, and a tablet with an orange and red flag. Under this is ‘Label coining is an artform both like and unlike any other, and I’m proud to participate in it. I hope that if you want to, you can join me. And if that’s not your thing- thanks for reading!’ There is a drawing of a figure with dark grey wings holding up two fingers. Next is a ‘<2’ heart and ‘elliot’ as a signature. In smaller text next to these is ‘Thank you to the creators whose work is featured in this zine! Credit on the next page. Remember to keep this wonderful community and artform accessible to all!’

Page 8: ‘Credit’: This section has a pride flag next to each label. ‘Aromantic-spectum, @ theflagarchive on Tumblr. Turian, @ kenochoric on Tumblr. Schooldoodlic, @ spirits-gender-coining on Tumblr. Xenoman, @ ryanyflags on Tumblr. MOGAI symbol, Pride-Flags on DeviantArt. Alterhuman, @ vaestra on Tumblr. (the flag on pg. 4 is Wildflowergender). ‘About making this zine’: ‘I really, really regret handwriting this. Drawing over Helvetica Neue for so long might change my actual handwriting, [more rough:] which looks like this! According to Artstudio Pro, I took 14 hours! I barely planned this before starting, the color wheel theme and the people doodles. /End ID]

[gatheringbones]

[“Magnificence in clothes was considered a prerogative of the nobles, who should be identifiable by modes of dress forbidden to others. In the effort to establish this principle as law and prevent “outrageous and excessive apparel of divers people against their estate and degree,” sumptuary laws were repeatedly announced, attempting to fix what kinds of clothes people might wear and how much they might spend.

Proclaimed by criers in the county courts and public assemblies, exact gradations of fabric, color, fur trimming, ornaments, and jewels were laid down for every rank and income level. Bourgeois might be forbidden to own a carriage or wear ermine, and peasants to wear any color but black or brown. Florence allowed doctors and magistrates to share the nobles’ privilege of ermine, but ruled out for merchants’ wives multicolored, striped, and checked gowns, brocades, figured velvets, and fabrics embroidered in silver and gold. In France territorial lords and their ladies with incomes of 6,000 livres or more could order four costumes a year; knights and bannerets with incomes of 3,000 could have three a year, one of which had to be for summer. Boys could have only one a year, and no demoiselle who was not the châtelaine of a castle or did not have an income of 2,000 livres could order more than one costume a year. In England, according to a law of 1363, a merchant worth £1,000 was entitled to the same dress and meals as a knight worth £500, and a merchant worth £200 the same as a knight worth £100. Double wealth in this case equaled nobility.

Efforts were also made to regulate how many dishes could be served at meals, what garments and linens could be accumulated for a trousseau, how many minstrels at a wedding party. In the passion for fixing and stabilizing identity, prostitutes were required to wear stripes, or garments turned inside out. Servants who imitated the long pointed shoes and hanging sleeves of their betters were severely disapproved, more because of their pretensions than because their sleeves slopped into the broth when they waited on table and their fur-trimmed hems trailed in the dirt. “There was so much pride amongst the common people,” wrote the English chronicler Henry Knighton, “in vying with one another in dress and ornaments that it was scarce possible to distinguish the poor from the rich, the servant from the master, or a priest from other men.”

Expenditure of money by commoners pained the nobles not least because they saw it benefiting the merchant class rather than themselves. The clergy considered that this expenditure drained money from the Church, and so condemned it on the moral ground that extravagance and luxury were in themselves wicked and harmful to virtue. In general, the sumptuary laws were favored as a means of curbing extravagance and promoting thrift, in the belief that if people could be made to save money, the King could obtain it when necessary. Economic thinking did not embrace the idea of spending spending as a stimulus to the economy.

The sumptuary laws proved unenforceable; the prerogative of adornment, like the drinking of liquor in a later century, defied prohibition. When Florentine city officials pursued women in the streets to examine their gowns, and entered houses to search their wardrobes, their findings were often spectacular: cloth of white marbled silk embroidered with vine leaves and red grapes, a coat with white and red roses on a pale yellow ground, another coat of “blue cloth with white lilies and white and red stars and compasses and white and yellow stripes across it, lined with red striped cloth,” which almost seemed as if the owner were trying to see how far defiance could go.”]

barbara w. tuchman, from a distant mirror: the calamitous 14th century, 1987

[cute-sucker]

note: inspired by @lionasvault diner!jj x deer!reader ! <3

short masterlist: part two here, part three here, part four here, part five here, part six here !

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

being a single mother with a rafe camerons child was never easy.

the little girl hung on your shoulder giggling as she held onto you, and you tried to hide the squeezing pain that you felt in your heart. she knew nothing about her situation completely obvious. 

you were a kook. all through, the short bikinis, strutting upon everything you owned, winning pageants, and academic awards. it was your life. you were a soccer player on the side of it all, a crazy defender. you had enjoyed your life, knowing that you were going to marry someone. 

rafe. 

that's who the person was going to be. the sweet boy who gave you roses on your anniversary, telling you was better than any kook girl he had met. and it was all fun and games, sneaking away to be with someone older, someone bad, someone playful and someone who treated you "well." it helped that he was kook too, smug about his place in the world, and a callous hand dragging you across to show you around at parties. 

school ended on a good note for you, and you headed to university, with high dreams and a cute boyfriend at that. sure he was brooding, sure he was mean, sure he dropped notes about you not needing a higher education because you were wife material. but your parents had told you to go and be independent. 

so that's what you were doing. now, escaping from his clutches, a six-month-old baby girl gurgled at you as you tried to ignore the unfamiliarity of the whole new place you had rented. it was a cute town you thought, the little painted signs, and you found yourself staring at the flat. your landlord's little painted key felt warm in your hand, and you found yourself tearing up. 

finally, you set down your small brown suitcase, willing yourself to be stronger. willing yourself to look at the bright side of things, the fact that the apartment had 1 room for the two of you, and the fact that the sink had pretty roses on it, and the fact that you were finally free. 

you gazed back at your baby, her sleepy smile, as her eyes blinked and when it found a familiar face - gurgled with happiness. you felt as if your heart was going to burst with happiness, and with that, you decided that you should explore the town

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚

the town was better than you thought it would be, there was a small ballet studio across the street, meek book stands nearby, and a farmers market that sold you the ripest strawberries known to mankind. so yes, when you saw those strawberries you bought a carton. immediately your baby girl made grabby grabby hands, and you smiled down at her, brushing a curl of hair away from her face. 

"what, baby? you want one too?" you cooed, before giving her a red strawberry. she squealed before taking a big bite out of it, mushing it in her claw hands, giving you an inquisitory look. you sighed, and continued to push the stroller. 

jj's diner. 

that's what it read on bright rusty red letters, it was colored a gorgeous gray, and the glass windows showed a homely setting. grandparents sat with one other, sipping on coffees, you watched kids take big bites out of syrapy pancakes and stripes of bacon. this was a scene to beyond, and you couldn't help but yearn for it, as you opened the door of the diner. 

a sweet smell wafted by, as if fresh blueberry muffins had just been made. it felt like home, like a safe space, and before you knew it you were dragging in your stroller, and sitting down near the window. finally you found yourself smiling with joy as you looked down at the laminated plastic menu. 

"i'm jj, what can i get 'cha?" a gruff voice muttered, and you pursed your lips before looking up. it was a guy with dirty blonde hair, a backward hat, and white tee with what looked like mustard to you? "c'mon mama, i don't got all the time in the world." 

he looked at you pointly as if annoyed. the name 'jj,' seemed to flash in your mind. that was the diner's name? this was his diner, wasn't it. clearly they were short on staff. 

you flushed quickly, and you picked up your menu, "yeah i'll take the pancakes? extra syrup, and maybe some..." you crinkled your nose before looking at your baby girl who had a menu in her mouth, giving you a gumless smile "can i have mashed banana?" 

he looked baffled, chuckling while putting a hand on his hip, "mashed bananas? i don't serve that." once again you felt like an idiot stammering out your words. finally it was as if he looked at you properly, your creased clothes and messy hair. you had been up all night worrying about this move. 

he shook his head, and then swiped a hand to pick up the menus, "yeah. it's alright. mashed bananas and pancakes. got it." and somehow when he gave you that half smile you felt your heart lift up. 

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚

by the end of the trip to the diner, you had gotten up to clean your hands asking a kind lady to look after your baby for a second - and when you came back jj was sitting next to your baby cooing. 

he gave you a confused look when you came back, as your baby chewed on his finger, giving a delighted shriek. you found yourself trying to figure out what was happening. 

"she yours?" he asked, and you gave him a quick nod before trying to pull her into your arms. you avoided his gaze. you didn't want him to say anything about it. after all, you had enough people judging you. 

instead you zoned on your baby who gave a final cry before letting you pick her up. she still reached her chubby arms for jj's, eyes welling up as if she was going to cry. 

you sighed, "really sorry about this. i know it's not okay." 

jj looked at you again, reaching for his hat before waving his hand to console you, "nah. i don't mind." 

you gave him a tightlipped smile, and then put your baby in your stroller to head out, "thanks for everything." 

"don't mention it." 

somehow you felt as if you had made a friend. 

[traincat]

Hello! A bit of a silly question, but are there any iconic or standout Johnny or Peter outfits from the comics? For Johnny, ones that aren’t Fantastic Four uniforms specifically. Hope you’re having a good day/night! I love reading ur comic rambles !

Oh, the outfits. Not sure if these are what you wanted by iconic or standout, but these are the ones I think about a lot.

So, on his own, Peter's not the most interesting dresser, but he's not bad at it, either.

This is a pretty typical look for him -- Turtleneck with this style of jacket, pants, hiking boots. It works for him, but there's a practical aspect here, too, because he can wear the Spider-Man costume under this combination without anyone being aware. (They put him in short sleeves too much today!)

He's had some outfits though. Some looks. Some better than others.

(ASM #311) "Le Derriere jeans." Let's be fair he's not even trying with this one. At least MJ's pink cowboy getup is cute but he's not even attempting to wear that hat. It's wearing him.

(ASM #299) Bless him he's trying. Barely and badly, but trying. Note to myself that I need to do a McFarlane reread at some point. It's not my favorite period of canon, as evidenced by the fact that this wasn't in my refs and I had to go looking for it.

(ASM #330) I love his stupid anti-Batman tank top. It takes a certain kind of man to be petty across publishing houses.

Thou who doth not make mention of three things -- namely, the red briefs, the Bathrobe Collection, and the animal crop top -- hath not done their duty to Spider-Man fandom. Seriously, why does he own so many of bathrobes. (ASM #299 and Web of Spider-Man #18)

(ASM #249) Imagine you just found out your father murdered one of your best friends in the whole world and one of your other best friends in the whole world shows up to your pool party wearing this.

(ASM #506) But yeah I would say, day to day, he wears a lot of button ups with ties and black turtlenecks. Again, stuff he can hide the costume under. He wore a lot of suits and ties when he was teaching.

In terms of costumes, I really like the black cloth Spider-Man suit, but it's not exactly unusual. I'm pretty conservative with Spider-Man suits, but I do like the Last Stand suit. I feel there's good narrative weight to that one.

(ASM #637) Not in its original context, but a good look at it all the same. Interesting that in Madame Web's vision of what would happen if Peter killed Kraven, he switches to the Last Stand suit. Something worth thinking about potentially. I do wish I liked his Future Foundation suit more than I actually do, but I only really like the black version. The plain white is just kind of boring to me.

Okay, Johnny, though -- Johnny Storm has never met a pattern he wouldn't violently clash up against another pattern. Johnny dresses like a whole circus. Johnny goes to Paris Fashion Week, buys everything, and still ends up on the worst dressed list. Johnny Storm's fashion choices are breathtaking.

(FF #164) "And I don't have to stop for red lights." Okay. Let's take it from the top here. The red ascot, the violently patterned shirt and pants, the fringed jacket with his initials on it. The multiple rings. When I say this outfit has it all I mean it has the whole store.

And do not forget his perfectly coiffed hair, a thing that he woke up with and required no styling whatsoever. ("I've got to do SOMETHING about my hair!" - Fantastic Four #138.)

(FF #191) I actually like this one, I think the maroon suit is cute.

(FF #296) I love his little red scarf and Four jacket. Guest appearance by Alicia/Lyja (this was written pre-retcon but we also have to apply the retcon to past appearances, you know how it is) who is definitely speaking like a human and not a space alien who has gone wildly off script.

(FF #309) Obsessed with this entire scene. "Oh, I'm going to fly down with my brand new wife to Fire Island, a famously gay vacation spot, while wearing my little ankle jeans and nautical striped tank top. Maybe we'll hold hands." Unbelievable.

He also tends to wear a lot of Four-branded and flame print stuff, in general, which is cute. The famous flame print swim trunks, etc.

(Fantastic Four v5 #14) You have to love his Depression Howard the Duck shirt. Context: Peter and Wyatt kidnapped him for his own good.

(Uncanny Avengers #8) I think about his wolf howling at the moon shirt and tiny orange shorts combo from this comic roughly five times a week.

For uniforms that are less common, I really like his gold and black suit, his 2n1 suit, and the black short sleeve variant of his suit from Claremont's run.

(Marvel Two-in-One (2018) #4) I loved this jacket. I wish they'd sold a version of it, I would have bought it.

(Moon Girl #25) Don't trauma dump on the child, Johnny.

(FF v3 #27) This one isn't anything particularly special or anything, I just think it's fun, and I like the boots. They desperately need to take things a step further and let him do his own version of one of Sue's opera glove costumes.

Also please look at this dumb little outfit he made himself when he was sixteen and being manipulated into breaking away from the Fantastic Four.

(Strange Tales #106) This is iconic to me anyway.

And then okay. Yeah. There's the Bad! Real Bad! shirt.

(Daredevil #261) Someone help him.