#post i just reblogged reminded me of this. i've been thinking about it for a while but am only now stoned enough to Post about it

[tinytinyblogs]

Hi! I don’t know if you take requests but y’know how you did the yandere series w/ Stray Kids? Is it possible if you do the reverse of that? The reader the yandere and the members the victim? If it’s too much you don’t have to do it, I just thought with your writing it would be good. Have a great day/night/sleep 🧷🐣

This Is Not Love

When love isn't as sweet as they expected

Hyung line, Maknae line (coming soon)

💬 I've been away for quite a while—I know! Sorry for the delay, but I'm finally back and ready to start writing again.

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Over time, as your yandere tendencies began to surface, Chan couldn’t help but notice the subtle shifts in your behavior. At first, it was small things—the way your eyes lingered a little too long when he talked to others, or how you’d always find excuses to be near him, even when it wasn’t necessary. Then it became more apparent: the possessive grip on his arm, the quiet jealousy when he spent time with the members, the way you seemed to always know where he was, even when he hadn’t told you. Chan, being the observant and empathetic leader he is, didn’t miss any of it. Instead of reacting with anger or fear, he felt concern. He could see the turmoil beneath your actions, the insecurity driving your need to control and cling. One evening, after a particularly intense moment where you lashed out at the thought of him being away from you, he decided it was time to address it. Gently, he took your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. His voice was soft but firm as he spoke. “I see how much you care about me, and I appreciate it. But this… this isn’t healthy. You don’t have to hold on so tightly. I’m not going anywhere.” His words were like a balm to your anxious heart, but he didn’t stop there. Chan, ever the caretaker, made it clear that he cared deeply for you. He held your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm, and looked into your eyes with a mix of love and concern.

“I want to help you,” he said. “This isn’t right, and I think you know that too. But I’m here for you. I’ll be by your side while you work on this, okay? You don’t have to do it alone.” His warmth and patience began to break through the walls of your possessiveness. You could feel the sincerity in his words, the way he genuinely wanted to see you heal and grow. It wasn’t just about fixing the relationship—it was about fixing you, and he was willing to stand by you every step of the way. Chan’s unwavering support and gentle guidance started to change something in you. His kindness reminded you that love didn’t have to be about control or fear. It could be about trust, patience, and growth. And with him holding your hand, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could learn to let go. But Chan, ever the responsible leader, didn’t let his care overshadow the need for boundaries. “I’ll always care about you,” he said, his voice steady. “But you have to promise me you’ll work on this. For yourself, and for us. I’ll be here, but you have to take the steps to fix it. Can you do that for me?” His words were a gentle push, a reminder that while he would support you, the journey to healing was yours to take. And with his hand in yours, you felt a little less afraid to start.

Minho

At first, Minho tried to brush off your possessive behavior. He noticed the way your eyes would narrow when he mentioned hanging out with friends, or how you’d always find a reason to tag along when he tried to go somewhere without you. It was strange, sure, but he figured it was just a phase—something that would pass with time. He is trying hard to understand why you act that way. Is it because you love him that much? He really wants to see it in a positive light, even though he knows something feels off about your behavior. But as the days went by, your actions became more intense. You started making excuses to keep him from meeting his friends, guilt-tripping him whenever he tried to leave, and even showing up unannounced at places you knew he’d be. It was suffocating, and Minho, who valued his independence and personal space, found himself growing more and more frustrated. One day, after you tried to stop him from meeting his friends yet again, he finally reached his limit. He turned to you, his expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief, and said bluntly, “You’re acting weird. Stop following me. I’m just meeting my friends—it’s not a big deal.” His words were sharp, but they came from a place of honesty.

Minho wasn’t one to sugarcoat things, and he couldn’t pretend your behavior was okay anymore. An argument might arise from this statement—he doesn’t like how the relationship makes him so unhappy. Shouldn't it be sweet instead of feeling this way? He didn’t like this side of you—the clinginess, the possessiveness, the way you seemed to want to control his every move. It wasn’t healthy, and he knew it. If things didn’t change, Minho made it clear that he wouldn’t stick around. He valued his freedom and his relationships with others too much to let anyone—even you—dictate how he lived his life. “If this keeps up,” he said, his tone firm but calm, “I’m stepping out. I can’t do this if it’s going to be like this.” Minho wasn’t cruel, but he wasn’t going to compromise his boundaries either. He hoped you’d understand and take steps to change, but if the situation became worse, he wouldn’t hesitate to walk away. For Minho, self-respect and peace of mind were non-negotiable, and he’d protect them—even if it meant leaving you behind. He truly believes you should work on yourself—he won't tolerate such an unsettling relationship.

Changbin

At first, Changbin found your clinginess endearing. The way you always wanted to be near him, the way your eyes lit up when he was around—it made him feel loved and protected. He even thought it was cute, smiling sweetly at you whenever you clung to his arm or insisted on spending every moment together. Since he is also the clingy type, he doesn’t mind it. “Aww, you really want me all to yourself, huh?” he’d tease, his voice warm and affectionate. But as time went on, your behavior started to shift. What once felt like sweet devotion began to feel overwhelming. You’d interrupt his gym sessions, showing up unannounced and insisting he spend time with you instead. Or you’d sabotage his studio time, making excuses to pull him away from his work. At first, Changbin tried to brush it off, telling himself it was just your way of showing love. But deep down, he couldn’t ignore the growing confusion and frustration. One day, after you interrupted yet another studio session, Changbin decided to address it. He took a deep breath, his tone gentle but firm.

“Hey, let’s trust each other, okay? I know you care about me, and I care about you too. But I need my space sometimes—to work out, to make music, to just… be me. You get that, right?” Changbin wasn’t quick to judge you. He understood that your actions came from a place of love, even if they were misguided. He didn’t want to hurt you, and he hoped that by talking things through, you’d see how important it was for both of you to have balance in the relationship. But if things didn’t improve—if your possessiveness continued to escalate—Changbin knew he’d have to take a firmer stance. He cared about you deeply, but he also cared about his own well-being and his passions. If it came to it, he’d sit you down and make everything crystal clear. “I love you,” he’d say, his voice steady but serious, “but this isn’t healthy. We need to trust each other, or this isn’t going to work.” Changbin’s heart was big, but so was his sense of self-respect. He’d give you the chance to change, to grow, but if the situation became too much to handle, he wouldn’t hesitate to set boundaries—even if it meant stepping back for the sake of both of your happiness.

Hyunjin

At first, Hyunjin found your intense love for him incredibly romantic. The way you doted on him, protected him, and made sure he felt cherished—it melted his heart. He couldn’t help but smile when you went out of your way to take care of him, showering him with attention and affection. To Hyunjin, it felt like you were showing him just how much he was worth, and it made him feel truly loved. “You really love me that much, huh?” he’d say with a soft laugh, his eyes sparkling with gratitude. But as time went on, your love began to take on a more obsessive tone. You started stalking his every move—showing up unexpectedly at his dance practices, keeping tabs on his schedule, and even monitoring his interactions with others. At first, Hyunjin tried to brush it off, telling himself it was just your way of caring. But slowly, a sense of unease crept in. He began to question whether this was normal, whether this was how love was supposed to feel. The more your behavior intensified, the more Hyunjin felt trapped. He found himself panicking, his mind racing with doubts. Is this right? Is this how a relationship should be?

He valued his freedom and his individuality, and the thought of losing them scared him. One day, when your actions crossed a line—perhaps by confronting someone he was talking to or demanding he cancel plans to be with you—Hyunjin finally reached his breaking point. His emotions spilled over in a dramatic, tearful confrontation. “I love you,” he said, his voice trembling, “but this… this isn’t okay. You can’t control me like this. I need my freedom. I need to be able to live my life without feeling like I’m being watched all the time.” Tears streamed down his face as he poured his heart out, his dramatic nature amplifying the intensity of the moment. “I care about you so much, but this isn’t how love should work. Love is supposed to make us feel safe and happy, not trapped and scared. Please… understand that.” Hyunjin’s words were raw and heartfelt, a plea for balance and understanding. He didn’t want to lose you, but he also couldn’t lose himself in the process. If things didn’t change, he knew he’d have to make the difficult decision to step back—not because he didn’t love you, but because he loved himself enough to know he deserved a love that was healthy and free.

[varlaisvea]

i wanna read/write about khajiit who converted to the dunmeri tribunal. idk about the relative timelines of the tribunal's apotheosis and the riddle'thar epiphany (when worship of daedra became Bad to do), but even post-riddle'thar plenty of khajiit still openly venerate (or at least view favorably) boethra, mafala, and azurah. so it would only make sense that some portion of them would buy that those daedra were the anticipations of almalexia, vivec, and sotha sil (respectively). especially sotha sil, bc plenty of khajiit still speak of azurah as a creator, even if it's in a folksy sort of way a lot of the time.

it would also be interesting if there were some baandari in the ashlands bc they converted to dunmeri worship of the good daedra. or ashlander/baandari oral histories of ways the two traditions have influenced each other. or a group of dunmer who converted to khajiiti religious views centuries ago, so now there is a dunmer enclave in elsweyr, or a population of dunmer w/khajiit heritage and khajiit w/dunmer heritage.

[asvidema]

i'll take a moment to thank, from the bottom of the heart, all the friends and the people i don't even follow for leaving tags on my art. special shoutouts to those who share thoughts about it and compliment my designs. you have no idea how much that means to me

[softgothbabe]

Fave memory of my grandma:

Christmas. I'm 14 years old. My family is sitting at the dining room table after dinner. My grandma is a liiiittle drunk. Sitting beside me, she leans in to say, conspiratorially, "So, my dear. You're old enough now. Are you hot to trot?"

An hour later, my family is exchanging gifts. I unwrap the one from my grandma. It's a massive pack of jumbo menstrual pads. Like. Diaper-sized 😭

I fucking miss her.

[neroushalvaus]

Tumblr in the 60s

☮ monkeewholock follow

🎉🎉CONGRATULATIONS UNITED KINGDOM 🎊🎊🎉🎉🎉🎉BYE BYE GROSS INDECENCY!!!!🌈🌈🌈 62 countries have now legalized sexual activities between men🌈🌈🌈

🐞 homophilespock follow

SPIRK CAN FINALLY FUCK

🚀 starrfleet follow

They are American, not British... But I'm pretty sure spirk has always been able to fuck since the show is set in the future.

📻 lesbianbobdylan follow

Christ, this is not about your cutesy uwu yaoi otp, go outside and smoke some grass

10,8 t. notes

🌻 flowerpower follow

Politicians are not your friends but damn Kennedy is fine, I look at one (1) picture of him and my head literally explodes

🌻 flowerpower follow

...i just woke up, why is my askbox full

🌻 flowerpower follow

WHY IS HE TRENDING I'M SCARED

🌻 flowerpower follow

guys stop reblogging this it's been like five years i've changed

290,9 t. notes

🎹 nixonsafascist follow

do you think they call him little richard because he has a little. Richard

🎹 nixonsafascist follow

easy website

58,1 t. notes

🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow

Being the only lesbian in your friend group sucks so bad. "beatles or stones??" i will kill you

🗣 lavendermenaceisreal-deactivated72537262

Disrespecting female social groups for male validation? Typical lesbian behaviour.

🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow

Mike Jacker isnt gonna fuck you

🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow

Oh no I think she couldn't handle that

77 notes

✌ draftdodgerdyke

DM me for the addresses of my Swedish and Canadian friends. Do not put your personal information in the reblogs.

🙍‍♀️ silvermilk follow

You should be ashamed of yourself.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

huh??

🙍‍♀️ silvermilk follow

I said, you should be ashamed of yourself. You disgust me. I assure you, when the commies attack us, you will not find your silly little post "groovy" anymore.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

Jesus, don't flip your wig

🙍‍♀️ silvermilk follow

My father fought in ww2 for you ungrateful degenerate.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

Don't see what your daddy's unsexiness has to do with me and my lads taking a sexy sexy trip to Sweden.

#anyway only hot guys dodge the draft

587 notes

🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow

in every interview i watch of the beatles they are so DONE and trolling everybody, these fucking annoying BITCHES, i need them inside me so badly

🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow

#this but not john lennon #i just can't forget the heinous things he said about jesus

idk I actually think it was very sexy of him, stop trying to cancel john in my post

✝️ jesusrevolution follow

The reading comprehension on this website is piss poor. John literally didn't mean he was greater than Jesus or better than Jesus, he was just trying to make a point about the world becoming more secular. Cancel culture has gone too far.

🚷 to-hell-with-the-beatles follow

How dare you say we piss on the poor?? Jesus died for Mr Lennon's sins and it's not "cancelling" to send him a few respectably worded death threats to remind him of that. He cancelled our Lord first!

✝️ jesusrevolution follow

Girl Jesus literally said it's cool, I dropped acid yesterday and saw Him and He told me.

🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow

help the girls (christians) are fighting in my beatles thirst post

6,008 notes

🛼 donovandyke follow

I will be glued to the tv today. If you don't want to hear about it, just blacklist #moonlanding !!

0 notes

🗣 claudeberger4ever-deactivated98975287

Hi I'm new to the Hair musical fandom so I'm not super invested in the whole discourse, but I just felt like this needed to be said: Friendly reminder that not being against the war in Vietnam does not make you a bad person!

🥁 ringoforpresident follow

it literally does tho

✌ draftdodgerdyke

Another win for us hot guys

17,2 t. notes

[tbaluver]

Kissing His Scars- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader requested: anonnie (anonymous) ᯓᡣ𐭩 genre: slight angst i think ( references of their past lives ) but tooth rotting fluff overall ! a/n: hihi lovelies i miss you all ! i've been really busy with school and i missed writing and interacting with you all so much ˙◠˙ this was requested by an anonnie and i apologize if this is written not the best i feel so rusty bc my exams drained me ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) i hope you all are so well and i hope i can get some writing posted bc i have a couple ideas for kinktober but i feel so late ˙◠˙ anyways enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier has a couple scars from all the battles he’s been through. A couple small ones from his hands and a couple on his arms. You’ve seen them sometimes when he’s had his shirt off or when you shower together.

He was curious about why you were doing this in the first place. His eyes sparkled with affection as you kiss and caress the lines of each scar with tenderness. He'd lean in to your touch, letting you do as you please, appreciating every second and minute of it. He felt so appreciated and special that he will definitely return the favor back to you.

Every kiss on his scars reminds him that each battle he’s faced has been worth it. In this lifetime, he has found you again after losing you and enduring so much. Now, he has a loving partner to come home to- where he feels cherished, complete, and truly at peace.

────୨ৎ────

You were curled up on the couch, flipping through different shows and movies in search of the perfect one to enjoy while waiting for you and Xavier’s food. Just then, Xavier joins you, settling his head comfortably in your lap, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

“Hi honey,” He says softly, his voice warm as he cups your face. His fingers gently tracing small circles on your cheek.

“Hi baby” you reply, nuzzling against his hand and placing your own atop his. Your heart flutters as you glance down at him. You took his hand, planting soft kisses along his inner palm before intertwining your fingers with his.

He watches you with a playful smile, utterly smitten by how adorable you were. Small affections made him feel loved and cherished. As you flipped his hand to face yours, you noticed the small scars that marked his skin- stories he briefly mentioned he’s gotten from childhood and battles with Wanderers from the past.

“Did you really get these when you were just a child?” you asked as he nodded. “A couple were from mishandling my sword while I was training,” he explained, earning a breathy chuckle.

You draw his hand closer, your lips finding those small scars.

“Hmm? What are you doing? They don’t hurt anymore,” He says so innocently, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. As you pull your lips away from his hand, you look down, meeting his gaze.

“I know,” you reply, your voice softening. “You’ve come some far. Those battles shape you into this strong and brave man.” A gentle smile graced your lips as he returned your smile, warmth flooding over him.

“No, it’s all those battles that have made everything worth it to have you in the end.” His voice filled with sincerity. Unable to resist, he sits up, leaning in. His eyes soften as he closes the distance between you two. Your breath caught as his lips met yours, tender and sweet, feeling the warmth of his love wrap around you.

Zayne:

You were no stranger to the scars on his arms. You've memorized every part of his body by now. He always kept them hidden whenever he wore his coat, long sleeves, or cardigan. Whether or not he was insecure about them or not, you wanted to make sure every inch of him was loved.

He was a bit surprised when you first kissed the scars on his arms. When your soft lips brushed against his scars, he melted at your touch. He feels a warmth spread through his body that brings him comfort and so so unconditionally loved. As you planted gentle kisses along his arm, a smile curled on his lips.

He loves it and finds it endearing whenever you do, making sure to give you the same amount of kisses back or more to remind you how much equally he loves you back.

────୨ৎ────

You rested your head on Zayne’s lap, the TV fading into a dull hum as he immersed himself in the pages of his book. With one hand holding the book, his other hand rests against your head to act as a pillow. Curiosity piqued you as you shifted slightly to play with his hand, captivated by the contract between the sizes of your hands. That’s when your gaze fell on the scar peeking from his sleeve.

As he continues to read, you gently push his sleeve up, tracing the outline of his scar before moving to the one beside it. You remembered him telling you he’d gotten these from childhood and how he can’t fully remember how he got them. A bittersweet ache fills your heart as you think of the childhood you both missed out on, wishing you could have been there to ease his pain and take care of him.

Drawn by an impulse, you inch closer and closer to his arm, planting a delicate trail of kisses on his scars. The soft warmth of your lips draws his attention to you. As he glances down, a small smile curls onto his lips.

“What are you doing, my love?” He asks softly, closing his book and setting it aside. His free hand brushes back the stray strands of your hair that had fallen over your face, tucking them gently behind your ear.

You rolled over to meet his gaze, your heart swelling at the sight of his soft smile and the warmth in his eyes, all just for you.

“Seeing these makes me wish I could have taken away your pain back then.” He’d sigh, cupping your face, his gaze continues to be filled with warmth.

“What matters is that you’re here with me now.” He replies softly as you shift closer, sitting up to rest your head against his chest. “Just having you here makes everything feel right,” He says with a soft smile on his face.

“I’m grateful that we eventually found our way to each other in the end.” He gently lifted your chin with his finger, drawing your gaze back to his before pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your lips.

( astra when i catch you astra.....)

Rafayel:

He is no stranger to you kissing his scars. You did it once when you kissed his paper cuts on his finger and he wanted you to keep doing it again and again.

Acts as if he's touch-starved. His reasoning would be one he loves it, two he loves and craves your touch, three he feels seen. You’ll still love him no matter what flaws he has or what he becomes.

Although there were some scars that randomly appeared on his arms, hinting untold stories. Initially you assume they might have stemmed from his artistic pursuits and whenever you bring it up, he brushes the topic aside.

Knowing Raf, you sense there’s more beneath the surface, he’s never been one to shy away from discussing his body. But you choose not to press on it and you’ll wait patiently for him to open up in his own time. For now, your love will be his comfort to whatever untold stories those scars hold on him.

────୨ৎ────

“Ouch! My hand!” He whines, flailing his hand in the air as if that might chase away the sting. You walk over to his stool, where he’s currently suffering from another paper cut from his sketchbook.

“Cutie,” he pouts, raising his finger to your face with a hopeful expression. “Kiss it, please.” You can’t help but chuckle as you take his hand in yours. You press a gentle kiss over the tiny wound to make his pain go away.

“There. It’ll be gone in a few seconds, Raf.” Just to be sure, you place another soft kiss on the same spot and notice a faint scar peeking from under his dress sleeve.

“Another one Raf? Where’d you get this scar?” You ask, gently pulling his arm to roll up his sleeve and examine it. He shrugs, a hint of mystery in his eyes. “I dunno, it just appeared out of nowhere. I can’t be too focused on that if I’m always focused on you cutie.” You snort. tracing the outline of the scar with your fingertip before leaning in to place a tender kiss on it.

He smiles, his nebula colored eyes sparkling as if they imitated space and the stars. “Are you trying to make it go away cutie?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Yes,” you reply softly, “but it’s also for the times I couldn’t be there to kiss it better.” He swears his heart can leap out of his chest right now and do backflips from how adorable you are. He reaches out to cup your face, his free arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Then I guess you just have to stay with me all the time," he says, a mix of playfulness and seriousness in his voice. “What if I get hurt again? Who’s going to kiss it all better? He gazes into your eyes, a soft smile breaking across his face.

He gently pulls you onto his lap, your faces meeting each other's level as you meet each other’s gaze. “You know,” he says, his voice gentle, “I could get used to you kissing all my scars. You make everything feel so much better.”

With a playful twinkle in his eye, he cups your cheek, drawing you closer until your lips brush against each other in a sweet, lingering kiss.

Sylus:

You’ve seen the scar on his chest before, whether it was during your shared showers or a cozy night in your shared bed. It often peeks out from under his robe, nestled by his sternum. He doesn’t mention much about how he got it, so you decided not to pry further into it.

The first time you did it was when you both got ready for bed. As you nestled your head against his chest, your fingers gently trace the scar that marked his skin. He’d hum in response from your touch as you pressed a soft kiss to it. He’d let out a silent laugh, finding you to be oh so adorable. He'd ruffle your hair before placing a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

You'd do it a lot more often after you found out he enjoys your small acts of affection towards him. You'd do it any chance you'd get.

In the steamy shower, you'd go on your tippy toes to kiss his scar and he'd respond back by gently placing a finger under your chin to draw you in for a soft tender kiss in return.

He loves it when you kiss the scar on his chest. You’re the only person he can be himself and vulnerable around, so doing an intimate act like that makes him feel safe and loved.

────୨ৎ────

Sylus was already in bed, his head resting gently against the headboard. His eyes were closed, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was evident to the exhaustion from a long day of work. Not wanting to disturb his peace, you quietly climbed on top of him, resting your head near his heart, hearing the soft, rapid thumps of his heartbeat. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around your waist, drawing you closer.

“Goodnight Sy,” you whisper, planting a tender kiss on his chest. Your gaze falls upon the scar that you knew so well, it’s story etched into his skin.

“Goodnight, sweetie,” he murmured back, his voice a low, soothing whisper as his fingers traced gentle circles on your waist.

You let your fingertips wander over the scar, feeling the slight indentation. He responds with a soft hum, his eyes still closed. “Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly, his hands still anchoring you on to him. You hum in reply, your mind drifting back to the story behind his scar.

-

“Where did you get this scar, Sy?” you asked, as the warm water pours over both of you in the shower.

He glances down at you, his gaze softening as he focuses on your face, careful not to let the soap get into your eyes. “That,” he paused for a moment, “is the reason I’m still here. But that’s all in the past now, sweetie.”

-

You remember not prying further as you traced the scar’s curves. Leaning closer, you pressed a soft kiss to his scar, earning a breathy chuckle from him as he tangles his fingers in your hair.

“I’m glad you’re still here with me, Sy,” you whisper, continuing to caress the scar with your fingertip.

He shifted slightly, pulling you closer, your eyes meeting his crimson ones. His gaze was sleepy yet filled with warmth. If his heart beats any faster, he swears his heart can burst out of his chest.

“And I’m grateful to always have you by my side.” A soft smile curls to his lips as he cups your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before pulling you forward to him, giving you a sweet and passionate kiss.

[beeseverywhen]

I think we should be able to add comments. Like you do with a word doc. Fair enough don't bring back editing. But every reblog should show a little thing to click on saying that I've had ideas since so I can be like. 'PS. I wrote this when I was drunk'

I think tumblr should have a feature where if a post gets over 1000 notes it automatically adds a banner to the bottom reading: Stop! Before responding, have you considered that this post may have been written for the audience of the blogger's immediate followers and they did not carefully calibrate each sentence to eliminate all potential misunderstandings like they were bargaining with a particularly literal-minded demonic entity? Ok thanks :)

[emptymasks]

They're done! I really want to try and make prints again as it's been years and I've never felt like I was very good at making whole posters. Dipping my toe back in with these silly chibis of each Papa with every Ghoul they've had. Perhaps they can also work as a guide for those wanting to learn all the characters? I added in a fair amount of little references with the Ghoul's poses so it'll be interesting to see what you guys figure out and notice!

The prints are on pre-order and won't ship out until November. I've put up 25 of each to start with but if they get low on stock I'll keep adding more until I have them printed and then it'll be a set amount in stock.

Also a reminder about the stickers of every Ghost Papa and Ghoul that I made earlier this year that are also available as customisable badges! Thank you so much to everyone who already bought them and got Etsy to list them as a 'bestseller' for a while. They're still up and in stock.

EDIT: someone informed me Delta was not in Secondo's era so sorry little water ghoul but he got edited out of that drawing.

Characters featured on the prints and are also available on stickers and badges: Papa Emeritus I / Primo, Papa Emeritus II / Secondo, Papa Emerirus III / Terzo, Papa Emeritus IV / Cardinal Copia, Aether, Air, Alpha / Fire, Aurora, Chain / Water, Cirrus, Cowbell, Cumulus, Delta, Dewdrop / Sodo, Earth, Ifrit, Ivy, Lake, Mist, Mountain, Omega / Quintessence, Pebble, Phantom, Phil / Special Ghoul, Rain, Sunshine, Swiss, Zephy.

I can’t link to my Etsy without risking Tumblr hiding the post from tag search results, but the link is in my pinned post, my carrd, I’m emptymasks on Etsy. Reblogs help support artists more than likes ❤️

[ID: Four landscape drawings, one for each of Ghost's Papas and the Ghouls that were in the band with them while they were the lead singer. Each Papa is in the center with each of their ghouls standings to their sides. Every character has their name written above or below them, on brightly coloured backgrounds for each Papa's robe colour. Also, individual pixel art chibi drawings of 69 characters from various European musicals (listed above) that are available as stickers. These drawings are also available as badges where they are placed inside circles to show what they will look like as physical button badges, some of them with plain colour backgrounds and some with 1-3 different pride flags as examples of how you can customise the backgrounds.]

For those who want to know what the little references in the prints are and don't want to guess, they're under the cut:

Omega can be a stompy boy when he's playing guitar, Alpha likes to throw up peace signs, Air is very found of the rock horns hand symbol, there's one close-up photo of Lake out there where you can clearly see his black sclera contacts and he's doing double 'horns' hand symbol, Mountain infamously takes his shoes off when playing the drums and leaves them on the stage at the site of his drumkit, Dewdrop likes to like.. most things including his guitar and his picks and sometimes his own hand, Pebble liked to hand out his drumsticks at the end of shows by dropkicking them into the crowd, Omega wore a flower tucked into his guitar strap during one show and Terzo constantly flirts with him more than other ghouls, Delta is suspected to be the ghoul that attempted to kick an audience member off stage when they climbed onstage and attempted to kiss Terzo, Zephyr was the only band member and only keyboardist who sat down while playing, the special ghoul played by Tobias wore a nametag 'Phil' in an interview, Swiss constantly is showing all his teethies with his smiles and always wiggling and moving around, Aether and Dewdrop often interact with Dew teasing/bothering Aether, Dew and Rain also often interact with Dew constantly reaching to grab his neck and attempt to kiss him, aaaand I think that's everything I intentionally included other than just generally tried to get the poses and expressions to match the personality we've seen from each ghoul.

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Waking Up in Vegas"

Prologue, Chapter one:, Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4:

ok guys! we're back and reader's hot girl summer has started! Sorry I was gonna put this chapter out earlier today but i've just been so busy today plus i'm cooking up a 3rd part for "older" I got my period AND i have a math test and english essay coming up. If some parts don't make sense, its on purpose. Reader is disoriented and drunk half the time, the days blur together for her. Lmk what yall think of readers hot girl summer and what you want/think will happen in the next chapter .Sorry for any mistakes! Comments, reblogs and ASKS make my dayyyy and encourage me.

Saint-Tropez wasn’t just a place, it was a playground, a haven for those who didn’t care about consequences or anyone else’s rules.

And you? Well, you were done with rules.

For the last two weeks, you’d been living like this, untouchable, free, and completely lying to your family.

You had told Bruce you were staying with Ariel and her father, which was true, for the first two days anyway.

Ariel's father is a busy man, he couldn't take 2 and a half months off work to babysit two 16 year olds who would do what they wanted anyway. As soon as he left, Ariel began calling your two other close friends, Claire and Rory. Together, all four of you were unstoppable at school though it was an unspoken rule that you and Ariel were the dynamic duo. All four of you stayed in Ariel's ocean front villa, relaxing, tanning, and just getting settled.

God, let's not even start on how drastically everything changed while you were at boarding school and the family found out Tiffany's true colors. They were all so.....protective now. You got calls everyday, from each of your 'siblings' separately, dozens of texts asking you what you ate, who you were with, and what you were doing. You didn't entertain them. The only person you replied to was Bruce, and that's only because you knew if he wanted to, he could call off this whole trip.

You didn't answer Tim's random, vague questions like, "Who's that on your story? Do you know them? Are you sure they're safe to be with?" He was asking about a simple sunset dinner picture you posted with Ariel, so you blocked him. He's way too nosy.

You didn't reply to the groupchat the girls, Barbra, Steph, and Cass added you in called "The girls!!"

What a creative name!

You left after you saw 'Tiffany was removed from this conversation'. Maybe you were being petty but they obviously had this chat before and didn't bother to add you to it before Tiffany was exposed. It was your turn to ignore them.

You definitely didn't reply to Damian's outright threatening messages that he sent almost every other day, they all sounded something along the lines of "You will regret this. You cannot simply leave and run away from your family. Come home or else."

He's such a strange little boy, he spoke and acted like an angry Victorian prince. He texted you like you were close before, like it wasn't him who pushed you away. You were coming back in two months and yet he acted like ran away and changed your name.

Jason, Bruce, and Dick were the most consistent and annoying, in that order exactly.

Jason texted you every morning at 8 and every night 11, like clockwork. His texts were daily updates what he was planning on doing that day, asking you the same, and reminding you that he's sorry and that he loves you. It tugged at your heart not to answer him, and sometimes, you gave in and you could feel the joy in his response when you replied. You and Jason's conversations went like this, on the odd occasion you replied,

"Good morning." - Jason

"How are you? No trouble in paradise I hope."- Jason

"My days gonna be pretty dull today, nothing much except patrol. Might go to that bookstore you used to like." - Jason

Your cold heart would melt when he said things like that and you would reply,

"awww! jason, thats so sweet." and follow with "I'm good!! how bout you??? staying out of trouble?"

Jason was your softest spot and he knew it.

Bruce texted you three times a day. Morning, afternoon, and evening. His messages were dry and authorative, demanding answers. He wanted to know who you were with, what you were doing, if you left the house, and if you were okay. The fatherly care and authority isn't something your used to, it was strange. You weren't sure if you felt cared for or suffocated. You answered Bruce once a day, your tone straight to the point, answering only what he asked, nothing more.

Dick is by far the worst. He texted you constantly, as if trying to make up for 11 years of not texting you at all. He texted you when he woke up, when he slept, when he ate, what he ate, and sent you pictures of everything. Once he sent you a picture of a tiny bird saying it reminded him of you. You nearly blocked him after that, the only reason you didn't was because you liked how desperate he was. Not long ago, it was you spamming him like that. Plus he can be funny most of the time. You don't even want to think of the constant selfies he sent. You only ever replied once.

Dick sent a selfie of him hanging with some of the Titans, you forgot why or what he said along with it, but you do remember seeing Connor Kent shirtless in the background. You giggled and showed Ariel how hot he is. You replied to Dick almost instantly hearting the picture, screen shotting it, and drawing a heart around Connor saying something like, "WHO DAT IN THE BACK????" and "Tell superboy to hmu".

Dick was not happy about that, that was the last group selfie he ever sent. He got more frequent with his texts after that. He must've snitched to Jason because not even five minutes after you got a text from him.

"Remember what I said. No boys, i'll kick his ass." - Jason

You ignored him of course.

The sun beat down in the south of France, but you were far from concerned with the blistering heat. Not when there was a private yacht at your disposal, a poolside filled with strangers and familiar faces alike, and the soundtrack of Drake keeping your pulse racing. You felt the vibration of your phone against your palm for the third time in ten minutes. Another text from Bruce. He was becoming more insistent you answer him the longer you were gone. It's only been two weeks! Another "where are you?" or "be careful." As if you were gonna listen. Or reply to him.

Bruce. The man who'd ignored you for the better part of your life, suddenly acting like a worried father because Tiffany, the perfect sister, had betrayed them all. Tiffany, the adopted daughter who had somehow replaced you in their world. Now, she was the enemy, the traitor, the spy, and she was gone. That meant you had all the freedom you could ever want.

The more you thought about Tiffany the angrier you got. She had everything. How many summers has she spent on yatchs partying? How many times has she blown thousands of Bruce's dollars? Why were you forgiving them so easily? Why were you even listening to him?

Just because he apologized and said he'd change?

Why should you forgive Jason so easily and respect his rules, he ignored you for years and replaced you with Tiffany. The more you drank, the more you thought and the angrier you got. Who do they think they are? You've always been too nice, too obedient, and they're still taking advantage of it. You'd show them, show them what its like to be ignored and forgotten and made fun of.

For the next two months, you were going to ignore them. Bruce and jason included. You've been too nice, too good these two weeks, your friends were begging to party but you didn't want to, you were scared of disappointing them.

You were so angry nothing changed in you that you finally caved and decided to do what Claire and Rory were doing, give your phone to a worker here and have them turn the location on and send updates to Bruce. You still used the same icloud so you could read their messages and make sure they weren't suspicous.

He'd think you were always at the villa or just going into town, they won't know what hit them.

You turn to Ariel and grin, "I'm free. What are we doing tonight?" You were done obeying their rules and living your life for them. Who knows when you'd be alone in Europe with your best friends again.

Ariel hopped off her chair and squealed, her dark skin glowing from the sun, she grabbed you and twirled you around, your giggles echoing through the yacht and drawing Claire and Rory's attention.

Ariel grinned and explained to Rory and Claire, "Little Miss good girl finally came to her senses and went M.I.A with her dad. Now we can finally party! Hot girl summer starts now."

All three girls start squealing and join Ariel in her celebration.

You rolled your eyes feeling guilty, "I told you, you could've gone without me!"

Ariel wrapped her arm around you, "Nonsense, it's not a party without you. Now, come on we gotta go shopping if we're going out tonight. It's lucky that we both have daddy's black cards. It's really lucky that they have Dior, Hermes, and YSL down the street."

You weren't sure how much you spent and the drinks kept you from feeling guilty. Bruce is like, a bajilionaire, what you spent won't make a dent.

Somehow, you ended up on an even bigger yacht filled with guys, in your brand new Dior bikini with a matching bag.

By the time night fell, the yacht was buzzing, the VIP lounge overrun by people who hadn’t even been invited. The bass was so loud you felt it in your bones. You didn’t care. You've never felt so alive.

Your new phone wasn't getting any messages except DMs, and the woman you hired confirming Bruce thought you were sound asleep in the villa.

You can practically taste the summer air as you step onto the deck of the boat, laughing with Ariel and your friends and the others you’ve met along the way. No one cares about where you’ve been, where you’re going, or who your family is.

As the DJ cranks up the volume, a cute guy with long blonde hair catches your eye. You wink at him and saunter over. This summer is all about freedom, and you’re ready for it. His hands are already on your waist, pulling you close, and suddenly you’re lost in the rhythm, spinning and laughing, his lips brushing against your ear.

The night wears on, you drink more, laugh louder, flirt harder. The yacht turns into a blur of lights, drinks, and music. As midnight rolls around, the party shows no signs of slowing. You could stay here forever, with no rules but your own.

But then it happens. You wake up in a completely different city.

London.

You’re sprawled on a plush couch in a ridiculously luxurious flat, a half-empty bottle of champagne next to you. The room smells like expensive perfume, and the decor is all sleek lines and minimalist chic. You sit up slowly, your head pounding from last night.

You sit up straighter, rubbing your eyes.You vaguely remember a private jet, but it’s all blurry. One moment, you were on the deck of the yacht, living it up, and the next, you're waking up in an entirely new country.

You look around the room in panic and spot Ariel sleeping on the couch and a random guy, butt naked on the floor next to her. You sigh in relief at Ariel being okay and the fact you weren't kidnapped.

There’s a knock at the room door, and when you answer, it's a random guy from last night, British accent, disheveled hair, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He grins at you sheepishly. “Hey, you good?”

You, Ariel, the naked boy named Christian, and the Brit named Thomas, have breakfast and exchange stories of what you remember from last night. It was fun, but you and Ariel flew back to St. Tropez where a jealous Claire and a worried Rory were waiting.

Last night was fun, but it couldn't happen again. It was dangerous and if anything happened Bruce wouldn't know.

Except it did happen again, and again, all summer long.

The next weeks were a blur, Venice, Monaco, and Madrid, with stops in Dubai and Los Angeles along the way. Each city more vibrant and intoxicating than the last. Every place you went, you had the freedom to be whoever you wanted to be. There was always a fresh crop of people, and you reveled in not having to answer to anyone. No father, no brothers, no sisters, just you and your friends against the world.

You and Ariel lived your lives like you were gonna die tomorrow. You were unstoppable, no family, no rules, no responsibility. Your abilities weren't acting up at all, everything was perfect. Bruce and the family were off your back, being made to think you were at the villa all day.

The “No Boys Rule” was completely disregarded, though. It seemed that whenever you let your guard down for just a moment, you’d end up surrounded by someone new. Whether it was a guy from a club in Monaco or a guy you met on a private yacht in Venice, you were always finding someone new

Despite all the parties, the alcohol, and the private Instagram posts, and funny Tik Toks, there was still a growing sense that you weren’t living this life for you, you were living it for the rebellion, to spite Bruce.

It wasn’t just about freedom anymore. It was about finally being seen, even if that meant drifting away from everyone you once called family.

You only had one month left of absolute freedom, and you were gonna make the most of it. With Ariel, Rory, and Claire by your side, you partied in just about every city.

The final month of your wild European escapade had arrived, and things were only getting wilder.

The clock had no meaning anymore. Days and nights blended into each other as you danced from one city to the next, your world a whirlwind of music, champagne, and endless laughter. Ariel, Rory, and Claire had become your partners in crime, literally when you got arrested, but thats not important.

Each morning you woke up in a new place, groggy and confused, only to remember the night before—flashing lights, pounding beats, and the promise of more. Cannes, Monte Carlo, Paris, or Dubai, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the freedom you’d found in them, and in yourself. You were more than the neglected, ignored girl from Gotham; now, you were the life of the party.

there was always someone waiting to whisk you away to the next nightclub, the next gala, the next beach party where the world’s richest men tried to get your attention.

First, it was Paris. You could feel the eyes on you as soon as you entered the hotel lobby. The air smelled of expensive perfume, freshly polished marble, and the faintest trace of guilt, because in some corner of your mind, you could still hear Bruce’s voice echoing in your ears. But it quickly faded as the first private yacht rolled up to the dock. The deck was crowded with Parisian socialites and half-drunk billionaires, but it wasn’t about the crowd, it was about the feeling of being wanted. Being worshipped.

It was in Paris that you really started feeling the distance between you and the life you’d left behind. The champagne flowed easily, the laughter came effortlessly, but there was an ache you hadn’t anticipated. A pang that struck at the edges of your satisfaction, the kind you couldn’t drink away.

You thought about Bruce. His pleading words, his desperation, and how, for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. But only for a moment. You couldn’t let him win. Couldn’t let them see that you’d needed them. Because that would mean giving up everything you had now, the freedom, the endless nights, the city hopping, the boys who adored you.

You let it all sink in, just for a second, how much control you had over them now. How much they wanted you back, how much they needed you back. It felt good, knowing that you could walk away and have them chase after you, like you used to chase them.

Maybe it was the brief, fleeting moments when you thought about Gotham, about Bruce, about your family, and how none of it felt real anymore. They’d played their games, ignored you, and now it was your turn.

Meanwhile, your phone was a constant buzz of messages. Tim had sent at least five texts, each one more urgent than the last. Jason called twice, his voice sharp and filled with that annoying overprotectiveness he just developed. And Bruce… well, Bruce sent you one long, pleading message, something about understanding, about giving him another chance, and answering his calls. You didn’t even bother reading it all. You didn’t need to. You didn’t care enough to respond.

You had no intention of being tied down by anyone, but when a French prince with dark, tousled hair and eyes that burned through your soul offered you a glass of champagne and a seat next to him, you took it.

You didn’t even have to look for him, he found you. He was the one with the perfect jawline, the one who could be a model if he wasn’t already a prince. His eyes, blue locked onto yours the second you entered the VIP area. A raised brow, a subtle smirk, and you knew that for tonight, he was yours.

You didn’t speak much. He didn’t ask questions, and that was the kind of energy you craved. A few words, some flirting, fleeting touches, and then you were in his Lambo, the leather seats smooth under your skin as the city sped by. He went as fast as you wanted, loving the thrill and impressed look in your eyes.

The thrill was intoxicating, the feeling of being someone else, someone free. The kind of person who didn’t have to answer to anyone. A few hours later, you were standing on a balcony, watching the sunrise, your lips tingling from the kiss he’d stolen.

Your mind was a haze of laughter and the aftertaste of expensive whiskey. The view of the French Riviera was far too beautiful to appreciate right now, and your thoughts wandered back to Gotham, to the family you’d abandoned, the ones who had never cared for you.

But as the days wore on, it was harder to ignore the hollow feeling creeping in. The message from Dick, the one where he told you that he loved you, stayed in your mind longer than it should have. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You didn’t owe him anything. But you couldn’t help but wonder, just for a second, what it would have been like if things were different.

You turned away from those thoughts quickly. You couldn’t afford to get attached. Not now. Not when you were on the verge of something bigger. The freedom you had now was everything you wanted. No one could take that from you.

You couldn’t let them control you. You wouldn’t let them.

You and Ariel were inseparable now, pulling Claire and Rory into your whirlwind of recklessness. You all had your roles, Ariel was the carefree partier, Claire the quiet one who always managed to keep ya'll out of trouble, and Rory was the one always ready with a camera and a new Tik Tok idea. You were the star, the one they all gravitated toward.

Each day was a new city, a new set of challenges, a new set of eyes who wanted to be close to you. You knew the game, knew how to play it. You knew how to keep them guessing, how to make them want you more.

So, you danced. You partied. You lived in the moment and let your life spiral further from Gotham’s grasp.

From there, it was off to the next city.

Las Vegas; Sin City, there was no place like it. You couldn’t even remember how you got there, your mind fuzzy with a mix of adrenaline and whatever was in that last glass of tequila. The strip was lit up like daylight, people everywhere, the air thick with smoke and the sound of slot machines ringing through the night.

You woke up in a penthouse suite that could have been mistaken for an entire floor of the Bellagio, the morning sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. And there he was, a prince. The same French prince, draped in a robe embroidered with gold thread, a fresh glass of mimosas on the table beside him. He was smirking, lounging on the couch like this was all part of his daily routine. You couldn’t even remember how you got to the suite. What had happened between the bar and now? You didn’t care.

He didn’t seem to care either, his hand casually tracing the rim of his glass, his eyes never leaving you. You laughed, feeling the surrealness of it all wash over you, the weight of your last 48 hours in Ibiza and Monaco still fresh on your skin. One minute, you were dancing at a celebrity’s secret after-party in Monaco, and the next, you were here, on the other side of the world with some mysterious prince who had probably already forgotten your name.

The rest of the night was spent taking private jet rides to exclusive clubs, partying with people whose names you couldn’t even pronounce, and waking up to the flashing lights of a casino floor. Vegas was the kind of place where everything felt fake, but that didn’t matter. You really are Brucie Wayne's daughter.

Next stop, Ibiza, the heart of Europe’s clubbing scene. Ariel and you slipped into the club, stepping past the velvet ropes like it was second nature. The security guard practically bowed as you walked by. The crowd parted for you, the clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of expensive conversations filling the air.

This was where you belonged. The heat of the island, the night that stretched into forever. You and Ariel danced on top of the table at Pacha, popping bottles like they were nothing, the music vibrating in your bones, the crowd chanting your name like you were the star of the show. It was your second night there, and you had already met a Spanish duke who was more interested in buying you a yacht than actually getting to know you. There was white powder everywhere, tempting you to try but you didn't give in. Who knows what could be in it. Your friends and most people at the club didn't share the same idea.

You just wanted to enjoy the view and keep the party going but you were worried, maybe this was too much.

“we’ve got to live for the moment,” Ariel grinned, taking a shot of something that made her eyes water. “Who cares if we’re in a foreign country surrounded by dangerous people? It’s the best kind of chaos. When else are we gonna do this?”

Somehow you ended up on a private yacht again, this time surrounded by Ibiza’s elite. You weren’t sure how many shots of tequila you’d had, but you knew that the man at your side had given you a diamond bracelet to match your dress. You accepted with a grin asking him to put it on for you, your hair wild, your makeup smudged from hours of dancing, but it didn’t matter. You were untouchable.

It was getting close to 3 AM, and the music hadn’t stopped. The drinks kept flowing, and the Duke’s yacht you somehow ended up on was finally leaving the dock. You couldn’t remember how you ended up on the boat, but you were there now, floating on a million-dollar boat with peopl you’d only seen on TV. One of the men from the night before was already making eye contact, his glass of sangria in hand.

It was hard to be shy in a setting like this. Rory, who’d never been afraid of attention, was deep in conversation with a couple of supermodels who were likely on their third or fourth drink. Claire was wrapped up in a flirtation with the duke who owned this yacht, and Arie was in her own world, laughing with a group of guys who were definitely not short on cash.

The next morning, you woke up on the yacht, the sun blazing over the Mediterranean. You stretched lazily, your body still buzzing from the night before, and found yourself face-to-face with the man from last night.

He smirked, “Care for another round?” he asked, his accent thick, the sound of the waves crashing against the boat providing an oddly peaceful background.

You laughed and agreed. It was all so easy, this life. This endless, carefree abandon. No rules, no family to answer to, no obligations. It was just you, your friends, and a bunch of gorgeous strangers who only saw you for the party girl you had become. And for now, that was enough.

Next, Monaco, the grandest of them all. You didn’t just go to Monaco, you ruled it. You, Ariel, Claire and Rory crashing the most exclusive gala in the world; rich industrialists, F1 drivers ,tech moguls, the faces that appeared on the front of every magazine. But to you, it was just another game to play. Every conversation was a carefully curated performance, everyone vying for your attention, for your approval.

The days blurred together. Each city more beautiful, each party more decadent than the last. Monaco was wild, filled with the world’s elite and their very bored children. The private yacht parties were nothing short of a movie set, jet skis, champagne, drugs, and the sun beating down relentlessly. The thrill of it all never left, and every night you found a new billionaire, actor, or race car driver to distract you. It wasn’t about them, not really, it was about keeping the power in your hands, it was about feeling good. Taking away the pain that came with your powers, fortunately, men were jumping into your bed.

You didn’t even have to try. One wink, one smile, and suddenly you were in a Bentley, whisked away to a private after-party in a hidden corner of Monaco’s coastline. The prince of some oil-rich kingdom was at your side, and the night was long, filled with laughter and stolen kisses under the stars. You didn’t care what his name was, where he came from, or who he was, he was just another prince who could buy you anything you wanted.

You met guy, almost as rich as Bruce, who you beat at poker, he was more than happy to throw a yacht party in your honor. The invitation was clear: “Come party with us. No rules. No limits.”

Ariel had already decided to make a game of seeing how many men she could flirt before sunset, while Rory was doing her usual thing, charming people with her wit. You, on the other hand, had become the center of attention, as if the whole event was designed around you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a conversation that didn’t involve someone trying to buy you a drink, or a private island.

As the weeks stretched on, you could barely keep track of all the cities you had visited. You spent one night in Berlin, dancing until dawn in one of the city’s most infamous clubs. The next, you were in Milan, draped in designer clothing and laughing with the most influential fashion people in the world. Every day felt like a new chapter, filled with new people, new parties, and a new sense of power.

It was intoxicating. Everyone loved you here, you were the life of every party. You had so many friends, you'd never be alone again.

There was something so exhilarating about being surrounded by people who knew your last name, who were used to rubbing elbows with people like Bruce Wayne, but didn’t realize you were his daughter.

You felt it in your bones now, the distance between you and Gotham was growing wider. The weight of the past, the guilt that had once threatened to crush you, was nothing more than a distant memory. Each city, each new face, each new party was a reminder that you didn’t need them. You didn’t need anyone.

But deep down, something shifted. Maybe it was the late-night conversations with Ariel on the balcony of a villa in Santorini, the wine flowing freely as you discussed the future, her dreams, your dreams, how you’d never go back to the way things were. Maybe it was the quiet moments alone on the edge of some private infinity pool, staring out at a horizon that seemed endless and just… empty.

You didn’t know when you started to feel it, but you knew one thing for sure: when you finally did come back to Gotham, you weren’t going to be the same person who had left.

The Final Stop, St. Tropez. You did a full circle. Your last hurrah before you returned home, or where your family assumed you were all this time. The private beach parties, the yachts that lined the harbor, the whispers of billionaires in their private jets. You danced in the sand, surrounded by flashes from cameras and jealous glares from women who had no idea who you were, but wanted to be you all the same.

A private villa awaited you, and there, amidst the most extravagant décor, you found yourself facing yet another prince, yet another man eager to claim you as his own.

You turned to find a prince—probably from denmark—standing next to you. You immediately recognized his face from magazines. He was the one who was always pictured at galas with his equally famous family. He was beautiful, dark-haired and dangerous, with a body like chiseled stone. But the only thing you could think about was how long it would take before you got bored of him, before you moved on to the next.

His thick accented voice cut through your thoughts, "Well, if it isn't the infamous party girl." He smirked eyeing you up and down.

"Oh, so you've heard of me" You said smiling. You had no idea how he knew you, all your socials were private and theres no way you had mutual friends. You froze for a second, just how far has your reputation proceeded you, did Bruce hear?

You brushed the thought away as soon as it came, Bruce didn't exist. Not tonight, your last actual night of freedom. Not when you were boarding the flight to gotham after tomorrow.

"Hard not to. You've been everywhere. Paris, London, Ibiza, Monaco, Dubai, Vegas. You're practically the princess of Europe." He grinned leaning closer.

After two months you were finally starting to feel the rush of it all catching up to you. But for now? Who cared? You were a 16-year-old filled with confidence, chaos, and fun. The world was yours, and there was no one who could stop you, least of all, your father, who were still clueless about your whereabouts and secretly obsessing over your every move. You were too busy living in the moment to care about that.

You were officially the European Party Girl, the one everyone wanted to be friends with, the one they all wanted to take selfies with.

Ariel once called you a prince magnet, she wasn't wrong. You woke up next to him the next morning, his strong arms around your waist.

When you went back to Gotham, you weren’t just going to show up. You were going to treat them like they treated you all these years, you were going to laugh in their faces, ignore them like they ignored you.

As you and Ariel spent your last night together packing, you couldn't help but smile. In these two months with her, you lived more than you had in your entire life.

When you boarded the plane back to Gotham, you were different. You were someone new, someone who had tasted freedom and wasn’t sure if she could ever go back. The Waynes had no idea what was coming for them, but you were ready. The game had shifted, and you were about to play it all the way to the end.

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[aemondsbabe]

A Kindness

summary: you're finally ramsay's most favorite toy, but is that really a good thing?

pairing: ramsay bolton x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark content it's ramsay hello, blood kink but no injury/gore, mentioned major character death (again, no injury/gore), slight au (ramsay wins battle of the bastards), choking, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation, slapping, piv sex, unprotected sex don't be silly wrap ur willy, hair pulling, creampie, slight breeding kink, puppy play, boot humping idk how to else to phrase it, slight angst but a happy ending for ramsay lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.2k

a/n: my first foray into dark or at least semi-dark writing and my first time writing ramsay! i've had this one in my head for such a long time so it feels really good to actually get it out! hope everyone enjoys and please make sure to heed the warnings with this one!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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“Dip the cloth again, you dolt,” you snap, looking up from the scroll of parchment rolled out before you on the table when you hear the coarse woolen cloth begin to scrape dryly across the silver Ramsay’s… thing was supposed to be polishing, “If I have to remind you of that one more time, I’ll tell him you tried to touch me. I wonder which part of you he’d hack off for that, hm?” 

Reek’s eyes go wide at your threat and he nods his head frantically, quickly reaching over and dunking the cloth into the small bowl of vinegar before him. “Yes, m’lady. Apologies, m’lady.” 

A small sigh leaves your lips as you rest an elbow on the table, nose scrunching up slightly at the sour smell that seems to hang like a cloud over the room, the small one by the kitchens.

 Probably where the staff ate, you think, staring blankly at the fire crackling away in the hearth. You’ve tried hard to picture it – Winterfell in its former glory, trussed up with wolf banners and filled with children’s laughter, how it was when the Stark’s called it home. 

Your eyes linger on Reek and for a second, you’re halfway tempted to ask him about it – what it was like living here, being one of them. You don’t, knowing the question would fall on deaf ears at the least, or send him spiraling to the point of being unable to finish his chores, and then it would be your head on the chopping block as well. 

Distantly, you hear the familiar baying of Ramsay’s hounds and your eyes flick up to the narrow slit windows on the wall; you do your best to ignore the way Reek’s head swivels to the sound in the same instance yours does, the way that adrenaline so keenly rushes through you – a burst of panic leading the charge before you have the chance to correct it. 

Anticipation, you remind yourself, jaw clenched, Passion, excitement. 

Your eyes vacantly scan over the parchment you’d nabbed from the library earlier that morning, an account of the birth of Arya, apparently the sister of the one that had actually managed to escape some weeks back, no doubt frozen now in one of the snowy forests that surrounds Winterfell. You don’t really care, your thoughts once again reverting back to Myranda. Bitterly, you remember how he never made her stay behind when he went hunting, never made her watch over his man-servant, never made her second guess.

The last one is a lie, the truth woven deeply into the many nights you’d spent up with her – listening as she fretted about each word she’d uttered to him that day, hoping each one had been right and had been said at the right time, that he wouldn’t find some made-up cause to punish her. Tendrils of jealousy had twisted into you even then, even as she painted a picture of what he truly was. 

Just as men’s voices filter through the windows from the courtyard outside, your lips quirk up into a mean, victorious little smirk. 

It’s her body he fed to the dogs, you think, the voice in your mind a proud hiss, Just like Violet’s and Tansy’s and Kyra’s. You remember the day well enough, remember the shock of seeing your friend's body laying in the courtyard as you’d run out to greet Ramsay, teal eyes staring at nothing. It had been you that had warmed his bed that very night, and all the ones after it. 

“There you are,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you, nearly making you yelp as Reek scrambles to stand up from the table. Before you even have a chance to, a strong hand clasps over your shoulder, stilling your movements, “No, no, don’t get up on my account.” Rusty copper stains color his hand, dried blood outlining each of his nails. You don’t let your mind linger on what the source of it could be.

You whip your head around and swallow nervously as he chuckles lowly, “Ramsay!” You breathe in greeting, the corners of your lips tilting up into a tentative smile, though that’s quickly washed away as you take in the messy splotches of red that stain his coat and tunic, that snake their way up the pale column of his throat and dot the sides of his face. 

He looks every bit the hunter and you wonder, not for the first time, what that makes you. 

“You seem quite comfortable here, pet,” he drawls, leaning down until he’s eye-level with you, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more at home down here with the help,” he continues, hand tightening to the point of pain on your shoulder, making you grit your teeth, “Than you are in our chambers where you’re meant to be.”

Our chambers. A privilege he never granted her. Stupidly, your heart sings. 

His hand tightens on your shoulder once more, finally drawing a pained whine from your lips.

“Y-You told me to watch him! To make sure he –” You’re cut off as Ramsay unceremoniously hauls you to your feet, clawing at your leather doublet. A cry leaves your lips as the hand on your shoulder tangles into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging as he forces your head back, blue eyes flicking to your neck as you swallow thickly. 

“I told you to be in our chambers when I return from hunts,” he corrects you, standing to his full height as he holds you tightly, forcing you unsteadily onto your tip-toes, “That I expected you to be at the door, ready and waiting for me.” His lips ghost over your ear as he speaks, his voice a low growl that shouldn’t excite you the way it does. 

“I’m sorry,” you wince internally at the way your voice comes out as a pained little squeak, your hands scrambling to hang onto his forearm, nails digging into the stained quilted fabric of his jacket.

“You know how I get after a hunt,” he suddenly pulls away from you, his hand pulling out of your hair, a gasp leaving you as your heels drop to the floor. You blink as he reaches up, not flinching from years of practice, though instead of striking you or harshly gripping at your jaw like you expect, his hand cups your cheek. Your chest rises and falls as he strokes his thumb over your cheekbone, blood stained fingers now delicate against your soft skin. 

“Today’s was a special one, too. Don’t you remember?” He questions, icy eyes sliding from yours to the red-headed man still standing by the table, glimmering cruelly as he smirks. 

Still, you nod your head, knowing Reek won’t answer. “To celebrate killing Jon Snow,” you breathe, gripping at the leather of his tunic, desperate to win even a scrap of approval.

Surprisingly, he grants it – fixing you with a proud little grin, like how an owner would look at a dog that’s just mastered a new trick. “That’s right,” his hand ruffles the hair on the top of your head, a gesture that should feel demeaning, yet it sends a tingle of pride through you instead, “Seems you can remember something after all.” He pulls away and traipses over to Reek, hands clasped behind his back.

“Surely you remember too, Reek? You were in the kennels that evening when the dogs had their treat, were you not?” He taunts, the playful inflection in his voice entirely for show, “Our little problem’s been dealt with and now we hold not only the Dreadfort but Winterfell as well! What do you think about that, hm?” Ramsay studies the other man carefully, eyes flitting over his face as he takes great pleasure in the subtle twitches of pain that still manage to flicker through the harsh conditioning he’d endured. Your eyes stay fixed firmly on the stone floor. 

“A… A great victory, master!” 

“Yes, a great victory, indeed,” he smiles, watching Reek for another moment before turning back to you. His smile morphs into a cold, callous frown that ties your stomach into knots, each of his steps making your heart hammer faster in your chest. “You know, it’s actually rather amusing,” he starts, bloodied fingers twirling a stray lock of your hair, “How my hounds seem to be continually more well trained than you, pretty little idiot.”

Pretty, pretty, pretty! Your heart thumps dumbly, a rabbit in a snare. 

“I’ll do better!” You whimper, shaking your head frantically as your eyes meet his, “I can do better, really, I was just confu–”

The hand in your hair shoots down suddenly, yanking several strands with it as he clamps it around your neck. “Confused?” Ramsay murmurs, watching with rapt attention at how you struggle in his hold, lips quivering as the words die in your throat, “Really? I give you one task, I ask one thing of you, and you can’t even figure that out? You still disappoint me?” 

He’s not expecting an answer, you know this, and yet you still try to give one as your mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, only the faintest little whines managing to escape. You feel faint, both from his grip around your throat and from the myriad of emotions coursing through your veins – your heart twists at the thought of failing him, your stomach is in knots as various punishments flash through your mind, and yet your center still sparks, still sends little glimmers of arousal through you. 

His grip loosens enough to allow you to suck in several shaky lungfuls of air as he snickers, endlessly amused at how eager you still are, how you still yearn so deeply for him. Again, he pats your head condescendingly, muttering little hushes as if you were a crying puppy. “Lucky for you, pet, I have plenty of experience training stubborn bitches,” Ramsay chuckles, blue eyes glimmering with mirth when he feels you swallow apprehensively, “I think we’ll have your behavior corrected in no time, won’t we? Even the stupidest of beasts can still learn a trick or two.”

Before you have time to react, the hand cradling the crown of your head harshly grabs at your hair again, tugging you suddenly toward the door. “Ah!” You yelp, stumbling as he all but drags you behind him, your hands shake as they struggle to grab onto his forearm, “Ramsay, pl–!”

“You should be grateful I am allowing you the kindness of walking!” He growls, sparing you a glance over his shoulder as he leads you through the Great Hall, “Pity I’m so protective of you, really, I’m sure it would be quite entertaining for my men to watch you crawl.” His drawled threat sends a spark of fear down your spine and you pant, chest heaving, as you shuffle behind him; your cheeks burn as several of his soldiers sitting at the long wooden tables catcall as you stagger past them.

Finally, the two of you reach your shared chambers, that fact sending a little torrent of satisfaction through you even now. Unceremoniously, Ramsay all but tosses you inside and you whimper as your hip collides with an edge of the decorative table just inside the door, no doubt hard enough to bruise but at least it breaks your fall. 

“It’s quite unfortunate, normally find your impudence amusing,” he starts lowly, pressing the old wooden door closed with a thud before sliding the lock into place with a self-satisfied grin, “But I know you know better, don’t you, little one?” He asks as he stalks toward you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he stands before you, studying you silently for a second in the same calculated way he studies a deer through the sight of his bow. Not knowing what else to do, you silently nod your head as your eyes slip down to the floor, like a child being scolded. 

“You’ve been with me the longest now,” he murmurs as if you don’t know, one bloodstained hand grabbing at your waist as the other fits around the back of your neck, once again forcing your eyes to his face, “We grew up together, you and I. You know my ways, my rules, isn’t that right?”

Again, you nod your head, bottom lip trembling with the want to explain yourself, although you know that would only make things worse.

“That’s what makes your disobedience so frustrating,” his blue eyes bore into yours as he speaks, his lip sticking out in a mocking pout, “Because you do know better and yet you’re stupid enough to act out anyway, hm?” His tone is sharper now, dangerous like the pointed tip of an arrow.

“I wasn’t acting out!” The words claw themselves out of your throat before you can stop them and instantly you know you’ve made a mistake, but now you’re desperate to remedy it, “I wasn’t, really! I j-just misunderstood you, that’s –” 

Your pleas come to a screeching halt as his hand smacks across your face, the other grips at your jaw tightly, tight enough to make you whine softly in his grasp. Your eyes squeeze shut for a second, cheek stinging, before they open and lock with his again, wild and desperately. 

I wasn’t being insolent! You scream silently, hoping he can somehow hear you, that maybe all of your years with him would’ve granted that ability, I would never! I was doing as you said, like always! 

“I was wrong earlier, wasn’t I?” Ramsay mutters, so close to you that your foreheads nearly touch. Your eyes widen slightly at his words, heart thumping in a hopeful little staccato, though he wrenches that away quickly enough, “You’re not a dog at all, no, a dog would be obedient and docile.”

Your brows knit together with confusion at his words, biting so hard into your lower lip that you’re shocked you don’t taste blood. Although, you can’t help the surprised little gasp that leaves you when his hands begin quickly tugging at the laces of your bodice as your own remain in white-knuckled fists at your sides, the whole of you determined to stay still like a statue, a plaything. 

“No, you my sweet little pet,” he growls sarcastically, low voice morphing into a pleased chuckle as he tugs your bodice off; the shirt below it quickly follows and a small part of you blooms with pride at the happy little sigh he lets out at the sight of your breasts. 

“You’re just a dumb puppy, aren’t you?” He chuckles against your throat, nipping at your skin more so than kissing it, although you relish the feel of his lips on you all the same. “A dumb, defiant little puppy,” he continues, hastily pulling at the ties of your skirts and you whimper despite yourself when they finally fall to the floor, pooling at your feet, “That’s in desperate need of more training.” 

He stops, pausing for a mere second, and pulls back just enough to look at you, no doubt gaining satisfaction from the desperation written so plainly on your face. There’s a hunger in his cold eyes – a predator silently deciding to go for the jugular, nocking an arrow on his bow. 

You whine as he properly kisses at your throat now, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs at your hips. One skims higher to cup your breast, the unexpected gentleness of his touches causes you to shiver and whine in his grasp and into his mouth as he kisses you finally, his full lips moving steadily in time with yours. 

Harsh pants leave your lips as your heart pumps madly in your chest, his touches always work you up so quickly. The thought of him still being fully clothed as he left you bare and vulnerable made you hotter still; the feel of his warm leather tunic against your exposed skin, of his bloodied hands against your supple skin, drives you mad. 

Before you have time to second guess your movements, you begin blindly pulling at the strings on his leather tunic, desperate to feel him against you. Surprisingly, he lets you tug it off of him, granting you a last meal of sorts, and you can’t help but to smile into the kiss, gasping into his mouth as he unbuttons his jacket himself before quickly tossing it aside as well. He’s panting nearly as harshly as you are as the two of you part long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head, your hands immediately go to his chest the second it joins the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Your eyes flicker over him as the two of you pause, the knot in your belly growing tighter at the sight of his taut stomach and chest, the low, warm glow of the many candles dotted throughout your chambers accentuating each muscular dip. Your fingers shake as they trail over him and you feel a sick sense of pride twist in your stomach at the fact that, unlike so many men, his skin isn’t mottled with years of scars and bruises. No, his is flawless, a pale, unmarred, ruthless canvas – a flawless killer. 

Of course, he can’t let you have this reprieve for long. A good trainer doesn’t spoil his pet. 

A soft, broken gasp leaves you as one hand wraps around your neck again, slotting perfectly against your throat like a collar, as he walks you a few paces further into the room, closer to the small hearth by the bed. “Kneel,” his command leaves no room for anything but obedience; you swallow thickly, nervously, and do as he says, lips parting ever so slightly when your knees rest on plush bear skin instead of hard stone. 

A kindness, even now. 

Ramsay’s lips twist into a proud grin as you stare up at him, legs folded beneath you with your hands poised perfectly on your thighs, a familiar stance he’d taught you years ago. “Good girl,” he mutters, fingers threading gently through your hair as you moan softly. 

“Thank y – Ah!”

“No,” he chides harshly, tugging your head back by the roots of your hair until your neck is bared to him, your back arched, “Puppies don’t talk, dumb little thing,” he growls, shifting more closely to you in order to gain a better hold on your hair, close enough that you whimper as your front is pressed firmly against the length of his leg, the thick fabric of his trousers rough against your skin as one of his feet slots between your thighs, “A well-trained pet certainly doesn’t.” 

The knot in your belly seizes at his words, aided by the laces of his leather boots brushing oh-so gently against your center, the knotted fabric sticking against the wetness already leaking from your clenching cunt. You whine, high-pitched and frantic when he clutches your hair tighter still, his fist white knuckled against the crown of your head. 

“A well-trained little pet would always obey their master, wouldn’t they?” You can’t miss the breathiness of his voice now, his tone lower and smoother than it normally is, and the sound makes your hips hump against his boot before you can stop yourself, your nipples stiff, nearly aching, as they rub against his trousers. 

A low, rumbled laugh echoes through your chambers when your arms wrap around his leg, fingers digging desperately into the firm muscle of his thigh. “Aww,” he coos mockingly, licking his lips as he watches you, his attention making blood rush to the apples of your cheeks, “Is my pretty little puppy getting off on this? Does your cunt drip when I tell you how stupid and worthless you are?”

The sound of your blood pumping furiously through your veins thuds in your ears, Pretty, pretty pretty!

You whine as you try to eagerly nod your head, his hold on your hair preventing you from moving much, though your hips rut steadily against his boot now – pressing tightly against the worn fabric, the knots from his laces rubbing perfectly over the throbbing little pearl at your center. 

“You look like you’re having fun,” he drawls, cold eyes shining as he studies you closely, chest heaving in time with yours as his cock hardens in his pants, “Are you having fun, little one?”

Again, you try to nod, keening brokenly as your eyes stay fixed on his. You pant harshly against his leg, breath fragmented as they’re punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter and tighter with each pass of your slick center over the laces of his boot. 

He knows, of course. As soon as he ordered you to stay in the kitchens with Reek this morning, he knew – knew you’d follow his orders to the letter, even if they contradicted his previous ones. He knew he’d find you there, knew he’d punish you for it, knew exactly how he wanted to break you down so that it could be him who built you back up. He’s known you the longest, you’d grown up together. He knows, of course he does. He’s nothing if not a thorough hunter. 

A loud, broken whine leaves you when he flexes his foot, pressing his boot harder against you still. You’re helpless to do much else aside from stare up at him, gasping, while your hips buck against him as quickly as your sore muscles will allow, your high barreling toward you at a breakneck pace. 

All of that comes to a sudden, screeching halt though when he moves again, shifting his weight until his boot is just out of reach. The sudden lack of stimulation makes your back arch further still, your muscles taut like a drawn bow. 

“Oh, poor little puppy,” he laughs, watching gleefully as you whine loudly, the peak that had been so close fading away, leaving you aching, “If you thought it was going to be that easy, you haven’t been paying attention.” He taunts, crouching until he’s eye-level with you, smirking as his movements cause his pull on your hair to become tighter, making you wince, though his hand thankfully releases its grasp once he settles.

“Mmm,” you mewl softly as he caresses your breasts again, jumping slightly when he thumbs over your nipple before softly pinching at it, giving the other one the same treatment. Your eyes flutter shut as you arch your back further still, pressing against the palm of his hand as he kneads at your chest, eager for any stimulation you can get.

“Myranda was never like this,” he says suddenly, his voice low, steady, calculated. He smiles cruelly when your eyes snap open at the sound of her name, the back of your throat tight as tears already blur your vision – just like he wanted. “No, Myranda always behaved perfectly, she always did exactly what I said.” 

He leans forward suddenly, the side of his face pressed firmly against yours so that when he speaks, you’re sure to hear every syllable, to feel them punctuated against the skin of your neck. “She was perfect. I never had to punish her for the same thing twice, you know. Not like I do with you.” 

You shudder as his lips press against your skin again, pressing eager kisses against the wet trail of tears running down your cheek. He admires the way your shoulders shake as you sob, the way the subtle movement makes your breasts bounce, the way your cheeks flush so prettily, how your eyes always shine so brightly with fresh tears in them. 

Ramsay loves breaking you – adores the moment when his arrow is finally launched free from his bow, adores the moment he sees it pierce your little heart. He loves you, in his way. 

Not that he’d tell you that.

He lets you sob for a moment longer, all the while pressing hot kisses against your cheeks, relishing the salty taste of your tears as the little droplets of blood still caked to his skin mar your pretty face, staining it with delicate streaks of red. His cock twitches at the sight, black pupils nearly drowning out the blue of his eyes – maybe one day he’d bring you hunting, what a sight you’d be covered in the bright blood of a fresh kill. 

“Myranda never needed training, puppy, not in the way you do,” he nearly whispers, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile as he leans back enough to grab at your chin, tilting your face up to his, “That’s what made her so boring.”

“Huh?” You breathe, sobs stalling for a second as you process what he’d just said, your obvious surprise making him laugh lowly again. 

“What? Does that shock you? That I found her boring?” He questions, eyebrow raised, “Why would perfection be interesting?” 

Your eyes search his face as he shifts, kneeling rather than crouching. A little glimmer of pride sparks to life within you as he kisses you again, your lips moving against his frantically, mewling when he pushes his tongue into your mouth and nips at your bottom lip. 

“I never got to train her,” he breathes against your lips, grunting at the way your hands skim over his chest and stomach, grabbing at him so frantically, “I hardly got to punish her; if I gave her an order, she would follow it blindly – it made her predictable, it made her boring.”

“N-Not like me?” You whisper hopefully, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes as you pant, your chest pressed tightly to his. 

“No, sweet pet, not like you,” Ramsay smiles, making your heart sing as it leaps beneath your ribs, “I get to train you, don’t I? And punish you when that little puppy brain can’t follow the simplest of orders.”

You should be offended, should feel mocked and belittled, but you don’t. Instead, you nod your head eagerly, preening like a proud little bird at his praise, because that’s what is, really. Ramsay will never be one to sing your praises softly like other men, but he admires you all the same. 

Before you have time to reply, he grabs at your waist and abruptly maneuvers you, manhandling you until you’re poised on your hands and knees, cheek pressed firmly against the fur rug beneath you. 

“I get to play with you, pet,” he drawls lowly, pressing a hand into the small of your back and grunting appreciatively when you arch down like he wants, licking his lips as your cunt finally comes into view, shining already in the low candlelight. He smirks at the way you moan when he presses his hard length against you, grinding against your slit, chest heaving at how warm you are even through his trousers, “Don’t I?”

“Yes!” You nod eagerly, pressing back against him like a wanton whore, nearly dizzy with need when his fingers bump against you as he quickly undoes the laces on his pants, “Yes, yes, yes, please!”

“Ohh, so you can be good, hm?” He teases, groaning in relief when he pushes his trousers down just enough to free his cock, too impatient to remove them entirely, “Seems my training’s working nicely.”

Mindlessly, you nod, willing to agree with whatever he says so long as he gets inside you.

Mercifully, you don’t have to wait long. A loud cry fills your chambers as he presses into you, the slight sting of his thick cock stretching you open making you shiver, a familiar sensation since he was rarely ever patient enough to work you open on his fingers. 

Immediately, he sets a brutal pace, his hips pressing against yours tightly each time he pushes forward, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust. Your cunt clenches at him greedily and your hands scramble against the rug beneath you, fingers tangling into the furs, desperate for something to anchor yourself. 

“Fuck, tight little cunt,” Ramsay grunts harshly above you, his hands gripping meanly at your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. 

“R-Ramsay, fuck… fuck,” you whimper beneath him, your eyes squeezed shut tightly as the knot in your belly threatens to unravel, your walls pulsing rhythmically around his length each time it spears into you.

He chuckles breathlessly at your little murmurs and runs a hand up the length of your back before grabbing at the hair at the nape of your neck, relishing the little cry you give as he pulls you up until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. “Are you close already?” He mocks smugly, his fingers untangling from your hair to wrap once more around your throat as his other paws at your breasts, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. 

You swallow thickly, throat bobbing under his grip, and nod your head the best you can, grabbing at his thick forearm. 

“Do you think I’m going to let you?” He teases, biting harshly at your shoulder as his hips keep up a punishing rhythm.

You nearly sob at the question, so desperate, but still you shake your head, cunt pulsing around his length. “No, n-no…” You moan mournfully, voice hoarse from his hold. 

He chuckles behind you, his chest rumbling against your back as he kisses and bites at your earlobe, your shoulder, any part of your neck not covered by his hand, each touch driving you mad. “Finally, that little brain seems to be working,” he grunts, laughing lowly as he abandons your breasts long enough to slap your cheek, blessedly soft this time, “I’m having too much fun playing with you to let you go that easily,” He drawls, chuckling once more when you whine. 

“In fact,” he continues, reaching down and rubbing his fingers roughly against your aching bud, just enough to make you cry out before he suddenly pulls away again, tugging his length from you as he lets you flop to the floor with a little grunt, “I want to see you do a trick,” he whispers, rubbing over your ass before smack it roughly, making you jump, “Roll over.”

“Wha –” You start to question, only to be cut off with a loud cry as his hand spanks you once more.

“Be a good fucking puppy and roll over.”

His order leaves no room for questioning and obediently, you listen and roll over onto your back with a little whimper. You keep your legs bent up when you settle, keeping yourself on display for him, clenching around nothing as you eye his hard cock bobbing against his stomach, the tip red and leaking. 

“Good little pet,” he praises, his words going straight to your pearl as you shudder. Hastily, he pushes your legs up further, one hand holding you open as he presses his cock back into you, savoring your loud whine, the way your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He resumes his harsh pace, slamming into you as he chases his high now, blue eyes trailing appreciatively over your trembling body, watching as your breasts bounce with each unforgiving thrust he gives. 

“Please, please, Gods, please!” You whine frantically as he presses his hips against yours, grinding into you, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your bud perfectly, “Ramsay, p-please! I – fuck!”

He laughs breathlessly at your cries and leans down when you arch your back toward him, mouthing savagely at your chest, teeth nipping at the fat of your breasts before he licks over your nipples. He knows each touch is only driving you closer and closer to your release, yet he still doesn’t give you permission, a part of him meanly hopes you’ll slip over anyway and give him another reason to punish you, like he actually needs a reason. 

Still, you have been good today and he does love how willing and docile you become when you peak, so malleable – entirely submissive, entirely his. 

He bites and kisses his way up along your chest and neck before licking into your mouth for a moment, eagerly swallowing each desperate little cry before grabbing at your neck once more. Greedy, he turns your head to him, needing to see that empty-headed, hazy look in your eyes when he lets you finish.

His cock jerks at the sight of you, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you try desperately to hold off, cheeks flushed, reddened lips parted. He grunts, feeling his balls tighten, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm. 

“Cum, puppy,” he growls, forehead pressed against yours.

Your lips part in a silent curse as your high slams into you, each muscle in your body contracting at once. Your eyes bore into his wildly as your cunt spasms tightly around his cock, eyes rolling back as he fucks you through it.

“Fuck!” He grunts, growling lowly as his cock spasms within you, your walls all but milking his own high from him as well. His hips slam into you a few more times before he stills, gasping as he fills you with his spend. 

The two of you lay together for a moment, panting loudly against one another. Ramsay is the first to move, shushing you as he pulls his softening length from you, making you whine. 

Distantly, a part of you twists gleefully when you feel his seed drip from you, another thing he never dared do with her. 

“Here,” he says softly, offering you a hand, which you gladly take, letting him help you stand since you doubt you’d be able to on your own. Finally, you stand on your feet, albeit unsteadily, and grab onto the foot of the carved wooden bedframe to steady yourself. Strangely, he stays with you, neither of you saying anything as he holds you, blue eyes studying you as they gleam with some unknown emotion. 

After a moment, you try to pull away, meaning to leave as you always do, not one to wait around for his order anymore. 

“Stop,” he murmurs, only pulling away once you still, “Stay.” He orders, an unfamiliar softness to his voice. Your head reels, eyes staring unfocused as you try to make sense of… whatever this is, whatever his game may be now. 

He returns quickly enough, a damp cloth in his and from the small wash basin he keeps on the vanity. You reach out to grab it, to clean yourself off like you assume he wants, and yet he stops you, holding the cloth out of your grasp until you lower your hand again. 

“Obedient puppies get rewards,” he says softly, all of the harshness from before absent from his tone as he answers your silent questions. You nearly freeze when he presses one small, gentle kiss against your forehead. Finally, he makes quick work of wiping between your legs, taking care to wipe away any of his spend that leaked from you. 

“Thank you…” You nearly whisper, voice scratchy from his earlier treatment. That doesn’t feel like the right thing to say but if it isn’t, he doesn't say. 

Silently, he cups your chin, lifting it enough to give him room to check your neck, trailing his hand over it lightly until he must be satisfied that you’re okay, that he hadn’t treated you too badly. 

Kind, even still.

A few moments later, you recline in the plush bed, watching as he kicks off his boots before joining you, lying with you under the soft blankets. This part, at least, you’re used to – lying together like this but not touching, not cuddling, that’s too intimate, too close. 

He hadn’t said that, wouldn’t say that, but you knew. 

A surprised little gasp leaves you when he pulls you close, hands, clean now that he’d taken a moment to wash them, resting on you gently. One smoothes up and down your arm as he lets you lay against his chest, cheek pressed against his collarbone, his chin resting on your head; the other grabs at your thigh, pulling you to him until you’re tucked into his side, one leg propped over his hips. 

“You did well,” he says softly, chest vibrating under your cheek as he speaks, “With your training, I mean. You did well. I’m… proud of you.”

“Thank you.” 

The two of you are silent after that, neither of you knowing how to handle this new territory that you seem to be spilling into, but you don’t care, not with your heart pounding quickly in your chest. You’d think you were dying if it weren’t for the savage sense of victory threading through every inch of you. 

Proud, proud, proud! The word echoes in your head with each pump of blood through your heart. It was so small, the barest of compliments, but from Ramsay it meant the world. It was something he’d said to you, only you, never to her, not once. Never to anyone else. 

His chest rises and falls under your cheek, breath steady and even. He always falls asleep quickly, normally you do too. But not this time, not tonight, not wanting to let this moment fade just yet. 

He loves you, in his way.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @iamawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino @targaryenbarbie @fan-goddess

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry [2] | Aemond Targaryen

Part Two

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop ;o

Word Count: (I'm... sorry?) 7.1k

Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! UNEDITED!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? power struggle both in bed and out, reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (f receiving), thigh riding, degradation, Aemond is a fucking asshole but he's sexy, talk of masturbation. as always, let me know if I have missed anything!

Author's note: Entirely unedited because here I am posting this at 2:30AM having just finished writing this bad boy even though I have to be up for work at 7:30. yay :/. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love on this series so far! I'm thinking there could potentially be some more to come. Reader ain't done with her revenge so soon. I will reblog with the taglist tomorrow! or today I guess--after I've had some sleep! I would also love to hear your thoughts!! So pls hmu in my inbox to chat abt things xoxo kisses!!!! <3

Masterlist!

Part One

Distancing yourself from Aemond was not a difficult task. You’d barely see much of him aside from the meals you shared and your occasional stroll through the gardens anyway. It still felt odd, knowing that you were avoiding him when only days ago you had been grasping at whatever crumb of his attention you could reach. 

His existence was ghostly. Always talked about but never seen and it made it remarkably easy to ignore him. You spent most days between your chambers and Helaena’s, idly passing time with embroidery and small talk. But you were distracted - your mind foggy and your usual grace and poise replaced by clumsiness and a constant flustered jumpiness.

It was always on your mind. Always. 

Your mind was a problem of its own and as soon as you lay down amongst your sheets for a night of sleep, it took you back to the memory of your name lewdly falling from Aemond’s lips. As days had passed, you could have convinced yourself it was a hallucination - an odd dream of some sort.  

And while it had become muscle memory for your hand to find your soaked sex at the midnight hour, the scene of your alluring husband in the throes of pleasure bringing you to a quick peak, the first two nights had been marred with silent tears of humiliation, hurt, betrayal–jealousy and anger. 

Maybe it was for the best that you had not seen the face of the whore in his private chambers. If you had any idea of who she was, you would have had half a mind to have sought her out and suffocated her yourself.

You had to remind yourself that if she were, in fact, a whore then you could hardly let yourself seriously consider choking a woman out for simply doing her job. 

Frustration was an understatement. No matter how hard you tried, there was nothing that you could do which would calm the mix of emotions inside you. You considered declaring Aemond’s infidelity at dinner–or even at the small feast that was held two nights ago. But it wouldn’t be enough and it was too early to show your hand. 

If you had come out and made it known to all at Court, nothing would happen. At all. 

Most husbands take on whores and mistresses. And despite the pain and hurt of it that the wives suffer, it’s simply accepted as the way things are. Men are innately animals and so they must fuck like it too. So nobody would bat an eyelid at Aemond. Instead, you knew that they’d turn it on you in one way or another. 

On the sixth day, you were surprised when Ser Tunsley knocked on your door to announce your husband’s presence. When Aemond took a seat at the small table where you usually shared your breakfast, he barely spared you more than an inquisitive look before telling your handmaid to bring your breakfasts promptly. 

Aemond leaned back, letting his legs rest comfortable but still maintained his effortlessly flawless posture. He reached for the book that lay forgotten on the side-table, holding it open with one hand and his other arm stretching over the back of the seat beside him, where you sat all tense and surprised. A barely-there frown crossed your face at the foreign gesture and you willed yourself not to think much of it.

You would have fumbled to snatch the book from his hands, if this had been a week earlier. But it wasn’t, and with a curious and conniving sense of calm, you let him read the first page of a story riddled with obscenity and romance. The first couple chapters were perfectly appropriate.

The prince looked at you with a gentle tilt of his head, unmoving aside from . “You have been withdrawn.”

Silence. You were sitting beside him, unable to meet his eye as you usually would, scoffing so softly at his words that he almost mistook it for a cough. 

Aemond, who was far more observant of you than he knew you believed him to be, found that he was bothered by it. Whether it was because of the loss of the devotion that he had always seen in your doe-eyed gaze, or the flippant shift in your attitude, he did not want to know. 

“Have I done something that has bothered you, dear wife?” His eye returned to the book and moved from one side of the page to the other as he read. 

Aemond clearly did not see you watching them on that night. The fact that you had faced no repercussions for sneaking up on him and eavesdropping on such a moment was enough confirmation of that. 

But Aemond’s presence re-ignited the red hot resentment you had for his actions and the hurt that you felt because of him. How any man could seek out the company of his wife for the first time in a week, sit beside her and pretend so shamelessly as if he cared for the repercussions of his own vile actions was beyond you. 

Nonetheless, you forced a polite smile onto your lips and turned slightly to face him better. You let his question linger in the air between you as the maid returned, placing a plate of cheeses, fruits and an assortment of breads on the table in front of you. 

Thanking her, you reached to pour yourself a cup of the sweet vanilla and rose tea that had become your favourite part of your mornings in the Keep. When you answered his question, it was purposefully less than what Aemond was seeking. 

“I have been ill, lord husband,” you murmured. When you rested against the back of the seat, you tensed at the feeling of Aemond’s arm grazing your shoulder. You had forgotten it was there. 

Your reaction to his proximity and while you had initially been shy around him–not so much since you had started your little performance��, you never flinched away from his touch. 

Aemond placed the book down beside him and hummed in thought. He reached over you, to take a piece of fresh bread for his plate and to put some fruit on your plate, his chest pressing against your shoulder and his hair brushing past your nose. 

If you had moved, just an inch, your lips would be against the milky skin of his throat. Despite your disdain for your husband, you could hear the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears and stopped yourself from dragging your fingers through his hair and tracing your lips across his jaw. 

There was an unfamiliar sense of purpose behind what he was doing. It dawned on you that he knew what he was doing. The bread was already on his plate but the son of a bitch placed the fruits piece by piece on your plate, his movements lazy. 

He smelled like lavender, leather and dragon smoke. Like an intoxicating drug that overwhelmed your mind until piety and sin were indiscernible. It was far too easy for you to see Aemond as more godly than just a mere man, to feel the need to worship him in the most sinful ways you could imagine. 

No man in any realms was as strong, as beautiful, as terrifying, as educated as the prince who breathed fire onto your skin. And he was your prince. 

A drop in your stomach was the least of your problems when the image of Aemond enjoying another woman’s passion invaded your thoughts. You wondered if his scent drove her just as mad as it made you and you had the urge to drive a knife through Aemond’s hand for you knew he’d have let her indulge in him. 

But when he looked at you, his violet eye a mask of indifference yet still failing to hide something that you couldn’t for the life of you put into words, you hated that your desire for him burned just as strong as your rage. 

Aemond’s eye met yours, humming in thought as he brought a cherry to his lips and glancing down at your own. He took a bite out of it first and then brought it to your mouth, dragging the open side across your bottom lip. The soft fruit dripped delicately onto your chin and left a stain on your perfect lips. The sight of you with reddened lips, gazing up at him with blown out pupils, shining with an uncorrupted devotion and a pure desire sent his blood rushing. 

The cherry was sweet and chilled, a stark contrast to the darkened, heated want that Aemond watched you with. And again, you had an urge to ignore everything and take what it was that you had been hoping Aemond would give you. You obediently took the cherry into your mouth, holding his gaze, chewing the flesh of the fruit and rolling the pip on your tongue. 

When you looked hard enough into Aemond’s eye, you could see the reflection of yourself morph into a reflection of the unnamed woman and you turned from him, turning away to drop the pip of the cherry onto a napkin. 

Aemond’s hand fell softly to rest on your knee and he only moved back a nudge. You refused to meet his eye but you could feel his warm breath on your cheek as he spoke, his voice slightly strained yet still calm and smooth. “I’ll send for a maester.” 

“Thank you,” you pushed the words out of your mouth and nodded towards the food. “You should eat your breakfast, my prince.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow as you rolled your eyes at him and slid back into his previous posture, sitting against the backrest of his own seat. An infuriating grin played on his lips. “Don’t worry about my breakfast. Why did you roll your eyes at me?”

You rolled your eyes again. “As if I cannot call for a maester myself.”

It crossed your mind that you could have told him right now of what you had seen. And the urge to scream at him became so strong you almost did. 

But what would come of it? Not enough. Aemond would only offer you an apology if you were lucky and carry on as if nothing was amiss. Because that is just how it is for husbands–they could cheat and lie all they please to no consequence. And you wanted him to regret the moment he chose to disrespect you. 

You wanted him to suffer for it. To feel as insulted, as embarrassed and as inferior as you have.

So he would suffer. But you had to be patient if you were to make it hurt. 

A thought crossed your mind as Aemond said something you didn’t quite hear, with that unbothered expression he had mastered years ago. 

He didn’t linger long after that. You ate your breakfast in silence, while Aemond, much to your distaste, finished the first chapter of your book. And when he finally left, he took it with him, giving you a knowing smirk as he tucked it under his arm. 

One punch. Surely, you would be entitled to that. 

Initially, the idea of seducing Jason Lannister was a gruesome one. But upon hearing of his prolonged and unbusy presence at King’s Landing, you recognised an opportunity as it presented itself to you. Simply because of pride and ego, there were few men who enjoyed the idea of his wife turning to another man for what they could not provide. 

Alas, if there was any part of Aemond that made him weak, it was his pride and his arrogance. 

And so here you were, enjoying your afternoon tea with the Lannister twin, listening to stories of his life at Casterly Rock. You made sure the house staff had known of Lannister’s presence and that the Kingsguard were well aware of the pot of tea you shared in the Courtyard. Easily within sight of where you knew Aemond was training with Ser Cole and some other men you had no interest in knowing.

For the past thirty minutes, you could feel him watching you. But when you lifted your head to look, pretending to the man across from you that you were interested in watching your husband train, Aemond would turn away. Yet he finally seemed to have finally had enough and you could see him walking over from behind Jason, his shoulders stiffer than usual with a sour expression. 

“This tea,” you covered your mouth gently, letting out the remnants of a laugh that had been pulled from you. If you were being honest, Jason Lannister was turning out to be surprisingly fun company and the smile you had expected to fake ended up being real. Not bothering to look at Aemond, who was much closer now, you held your teacup towards the Lord Lannister with a pretty, sultry smile. “It is incredible–I’ve loved it so much, t’is the only tea I will drink. Have a taste of mine, I insist.”

With a look of blatant excitement, Jason leaned into where you held the cup, fingers grazing yours as he held the cup but never took it out of your hold and took a sip. It was slightly awkward, the way his eyes held onto yours, but you brightened your smile nonetheless. 

Aemond visibly inhaled a sharp breath and cleared his throat, covering the both of you in a dark shade. The prince was looming over Lannister, who never looked away from you even as you peeled your eyes away from him with exaggerated difficulty to meet Aemond’s eye. You dropped your smile so slightly that only Aemond could notice. 

There was a tense, awkward silence that lingered. Lannister’s head tilted ever so slightly and a wave of annoyance ran through you at the cocky tilt of his head regardless of the fact that it was exactly what you needed him to do. The two men stared at each other, Aemond’s typical dark repose and Lannister’s challenging chagrin at the disruption. 

“How nice of you to join us, my prince,” you beamed. “Lord Lannister has been sharing this pot of tea with me. It’s lovely to enjoy some company for once.”

You took pleasure in the way he squared his shoulders at your remark. Lannister snickered but was quick to cover it up with a cough at Aemond’s narrowed eye. 

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Aemond’s voice was sharp. “I happen to have some time on my hands before I take Vhagar to flight, lady wife. Perhaps you would care to join me for a stroll through the gardens?”

Aemond was behind you in a blink, tugging your chair back gently into himself and holding a hand out to help you stand. The air around you became soft lavender and leather and something very Aemond. And despite the slight flutter of your eyelids, you straightened and held strong. 

Weakness would get you nowhere. You were out here for a reason and no matter how strong the pull was, your lust to hurt him back was much stronger. 

You shook your head gently, looking at Jason who seemed to stiffen under the prince’s eye. “What kind of host would I be if I were to abandon Lord Lannister? Considering it was I who invited him to tea. We can enjoy the gardens another time, my prince.”

The fire in Aemond’s eye rivalled Vhagar’s. It gave you a sense of satisfaction that was much unlike yourself and you wondered how he’d burn with rage if you decided to take Jason to your bed. You’d lose everything you had to your name but you knew it would not be difficult to convince yourself that it’d be worth it.

Jason Lannister was no fool. He understood the wrath of the Targaryen prince but he knew that you would never be subjected to the extent of it. As much as Prince Aemond pretended he did not care, the Lords and counsellors of the Red Keep knew that he had his weaknesses. At the end of the day, Aemond would not dishonour himself by tarnishing the image of his pious, kind wife who was loved by all. 

Lannister also had his doubts about you. Again, he was no fool to fall for whatever game you were playing. An honourable, devoted Lady such as yourself would never actually be so easy to adulterate. Whatever it was, Jason was not against indulging himself in some fun here and there. 

But he did prefer to keep his limbs and so he shook his head gently and stood from his seat. 

“You have my thanks,” he took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles. A bold move from a man who could so strongly feel the Prince’s pointed glare. Jason turned and bowed his head gently towards Aemond. “But I fear I have some business to attend to, so do not stay back on my regard. It was lovely to sit with you, my Lady.”

Aemond scoffed loudly as the Lord took his leave. He waited for you to take his hand to help you out of your seat before dropping it to your waist. 

“My prince-”

“If you are so starved of company, dear wife,” he drawled, looking straight ahead with a tightened jaw as he led you in the direction of the gardens. It was a habit now, whenever Aemond had you on his arm, to walk that route. Not surprising seeing how it was the only place where you two would see each other apart from your chambers. “I would expect you to call upon me rather than some toady Lord who would certainly misjudge your intentions. I am your husband, am I not?”

The thought of keeping a list of the times he spoke as if he were faithful crossed your mind for barely a second. Aemond was infuriating. 

You offered him half of a smile and pulled him back slightly as you came to a stop. “You are. But your mind is never with me and I am well aware your time is far more precious to you than I am.”

If Aemond’s composure was not so ingrained into his existence, he may have spluttered and gawked at you. Instead, he barely frowned. 

There was little he could do about the unemotional, unkind man that he had become perceived as. Aemond understood that it was his own actions that meant people viewed him as little less than a monster. And truly, it was how he tried to be perceived. 

So why did it disturb Aemond that his own wife thought him so uncaring? He knew he had only himself to blame for it. 

“I am afraid a stroll in the gardens will have to wait,” you continued in his silence. Being alone with Aemond was not how you intended to spend the afternoon. The risk that you’d lose your composure and tell him all that you had seen of him was still high. “I am still feeling fairly unwell. It may be better for me to rest in my chambers with a book.”

Aemond knew that you were retracting into yourself, pulling away from him where you would have been at his beck and call only a week ago. He hummed. “Tomorrow then.” 

And with that, Aemond escorted you to your chambers in silence. It was hardly two hours that you had spent in the Courtyard with Lord Lannister but it had been tiring nonetheless. The peace and quiet that came with your reprieve from the man that had set your nerves into a frenzy just at the knowledge of his presence while you pressed at his patience was welcome. 

A few hours passed slowly in your own company. Dinner was brought to your room at your request. The mere thought of sitting beside your husband and putting on a display for his family exhausted you. 

The sounds of footsteps and conversation outside your door pulled your attention from the embroidery you had forced yourself to practise. Your chambers were fairly secluded compared to the rest and so it wasn’t often that anyone wandered this area. Expecting the Queen or your husband to be the source of the noise, you were hastily at the door, a sudden flush of anxiety shooting straight to your gut. 

You waited barely five seconds for Ser Tunsley to knock on your door but your impatience pushed you to step out first. There was nobody there. You could see Ser Tunsley stalking away from the direction of the private chambers. You didn’t question it, assuming he was probably stepping away for a brief break, given that his position hadn’t been replaced. 

Footsteps. Again. 

Curiously turning your head in the direction of the sound, you saw a flash of brunette hair and a dark grey dress. Fuck. 

It was impossible not to recognise her. Even as she walked away from you and clearly in the direction of Prince Aemond’s chambers, you knew who she was. 

So with one final glance back into your room you followed her, thankful that you were barefoot so that your own footsteps couldn’t be heard.  Even though your body was running hot with a mixture of heartache and rage, there was an icy stiffness that had spread from the back of your neck to your shoulders as you rounded a single corner after her and helplessly watched her enter Aemond’s chambers. 

You held back tears. She had left the door open. Again. It did little to ease the knot in your throat when you realised that while she may be good enough for Aemond with her mouth, she was not the smartest.

Unable to move, you stood planted in that one spot a few feet away for what must have been ten minutes before you heard the same shuffling and muffled voices. You could hear her more clearly this time and it took you another two minutes to build the courage to see, once again, how Aemond dishonoured you. 

If the circumstances were different, it may have been one of the sexiest sights you had ever laid your eyes upon. But it struck you in a way you couldn’t have expected and it took all of your willpower to stay standing. 

But what else had you expected?

This time, the woman was sprawled out, her head hanging off of the bed and if her eyes weren’t screwed shut in bliss then she would have been looking directly at you. Her left hand gripped the sheets and the other was tangled amongst Aemond’s silver hair, her thighs on either side of his head. 

Gods, you had never known anything like it. 

Aemond was devouring her like he had been starved of her for weeks (you knew he hadn’t), the obscene sounds of his mouth against her sex striking you with distress. He held her down as she writhed against him, a strong, clothed arm keeping her in place at her waist. 

You had hardly been watching them for thirty seconds and you didn’t even have time to consider turning around and walking away to save yourself the misery. 

Because Aemond’s eye opened and he gazed straight through his lashes, lifting his head so he was looking directly at you. A piercing violet eye accompanied by a glimmering sapphire that watched you dangerously, as if he had seen you standing there the entire time and this was all entertaining to him. 

For what may well have been the tenth time that night, you couldn’t move. You stood at the door, chest heaving and jaw slack as you felt a tightness in your throat. How could you feel so powerless in a game you managed to believe you had the upperhand in? 

Aemond still held your eyes with his own, pulling away from the whore he was toying with, and fucking smirked.  

Like things were going exactly how he had planned. 

Red. And a loud gasp and then panic and a flash of arousal and all of a sudden you were running back to your chambers, falling to your knees over your empty bathtub and dry heaving. It was all too much. 

The shock, the fear, the jealousy, the fear. 

And it dawned on you as you tried desperately to catch your breath. Ignoring your arousal–you cursed your body for reacting faster than your mind once again–panic continued to flood your veins like an ice-cold burn. 

Aemond had definitely seen you watching. But had he known all along? 

It made no sense. Did he see you that night when he moaned your name instead of that damned woman’s? 

You couldn’t even be sure how long Aemond had stared at you from his spot, his attention diverted entirely from the nameless woman, who whined and stirred incessantly at his distraction, to you. Caught like a thief in the act, wide-eyed and dazed.

Aemond knew. And he must have known the entire time. With the way he looked directly to you, as if he were waiting for you. As if Aemond knew exactly where you stood the first night. As if he had finally caught you in his trap.  

He wanted you to see. 

Aemond had already bested you at your own game with even more cleverness than you. Before you had even started to play. 

Sleep did not come easy that night. 

 

You were dressed and ready far earlier than usual the next morning. Even though you dreaded the worst - that Aemond had convened to have you punished for watching as you had, you let your scheme motivate you to take back the control you had lost. If you had ever had it in the first place. 

The dress you wore was hardly decent and it left you bare from your chest up, a wide slit running through the skirts. It was a deep green that had a shine to it and clung to your skin, making it clear that you had foregone your smallclothes for the day. 

For the sake of decency within the hallway, and because you detested the idea of either of the Cloaks at your doors seeing your attire, you donned a heavy cloak over top. It was Aemond’s; he had left it behind after breakfast once.

Aemond was still asleep when you had talked your way past the guard at his door and pushed through the doors to his chambers. You stood at the foot of his bed, tracing the place where that woman lay with your eyes. Quietly, you dropped the cloak to the floor.

It was your first time in Aemond’s private chambers. And would things have been different, you would have taken the time to observe all the things that made this space his. Instead, your eyes scanned every centimetre of every part of his chambers for any trace of that wretched woman. 

There was none. Not a single strand of hair. 

You sat at the edge of his plush bed, taking a moment to get your head straight before you stood and walked around to the side of the bed where he lay. The scent of him was overwhelming as you stood above him. 

“Well,” Aemond barely moved aside from his lips as he spoke. His eye remained shut. “Look who finally figured it out. Why are you here?”

You let out a drawn out sigh, shivering gently. “I would like to talk.”

Aemond sat up lazily and you noticed he was naked save for the sheet that covered his lap. From the way he was sitting, you stood in between his legs and his head was slightly tilted as he looked at you over the swell of your breasts. His hands found a resting place on your hips and you were hyper-aware of his touch, which felt heavier than boulders and hotter than lava. 

He looked at you as if he were ready to devour you. As if Aemond were a man starved of air and you were his only chance at breathing. 

The prince let out a hum. “Dressed like this?”

“Since you seem to prefer a whore over your own wife, I figured I would dress akin to one,” you kept your voice stern and stepped further into him so that his chin almost had to rest in the valley of your breasts if he wished to keep his gaze on yours. “If this is what it will take to have your attention.”

Not once did Aemond’s heated stare falter. “I think you are well aware of where my attention lies. What with your childish attempts at seduction.”

“I did not think you cared to take note.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Aemond said, dragging a finger up and down the side of your waist. He enjoyed the soft feel of the fabric and the way your nipples perked through the dress at his touch had him resisting a primal urge to bite. His patience had been astounding thus far but it was wearing thin. “I would have expected that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady such as yourself. You are a princess, after all.”

Trying your best not to squirm under his touch, you held firm in your hardened gaze. “You seem to enjoy whores.”

“I do not.”

You scoffed. “So you have been fucking her just to spite me? Or have you fallen in love?”

“Such filthy language from such a well behaved girl,” he mused. Aemond’s cursed smirk had you holding back from both cutting him and kissing him. “I never would have guessed that my wife is so full of surprises. It seems I do not know you as well as I believed.”

“Answer my question, Aemond.”

“I never fucked her properly, since you insist–”

“As if it makes a difference whether you fucked her cunt or her mouth,” you spat. He was maddening. “You are my husband. I should be the only woman you have in your bed.”

The grip on your hips tightened almost painfully before he brought one hand up to caress your jaw. Aemond didn’t hide the longing he felt, pulling you closer and admiring every inch of your skin tenderly. “If only you had been good and asked me nicely for what you need. Instead of acting like a desperate slut every time we were in the same space. Things could have been so much easier for you, my love.”

Aemond had always spoken to you with respect. And yet here he was, speaking to you as if he already knew exactly what sent your cunt wild with need. He harshly held your chin, forcing you to look up at the roof as he straightened, pressing his nose into the crevice of your neck. The tickle of his hot breath on your skin made you gasp and you felt the velvet of his lips smirking against your throat. 

“The whole time,” you panted, bringing your hands to his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. “You knew. It was-”

“Hm. It was for you.” Aemond let his teeth graze against the dip of your jaw. 

There was a fire alight on your skin. You could barely make sense of his words but you forced yourself to hold it together. “You are insane.”

“I was only playing the game that you started,” Aemond chuckled. “Only, I have played it far better than you. Perhaps we are lucky that you did not present more of a challenge, considering I was not above taking her on your bed instead.”

Fuck that. You despised him and loved him and lusted for him all at the same time. 

The control you had was slight to begin with but whatever little there was, it was slipping through your fingers. You threaded your fingers through Aemond’s hair–which was silkier than you had expected–and pulled him away from your neck. 

When you saw the hunger for you in his eye, the slight pink flush of his cheeks, a warm flood of invigorating energy made it’s way through your veins. You fought the urge to run your hands down his shoulders, his chest, his bicep–any part of him you could reach. 

You swallowed thickly. “You should have. I need only one more reason to cut her.”

“I shall have her hanged if that is what you wish.” 

For a moment, you thought you might scratch the smug expression off of Aemond’s face. You groaned, pursing your lips at his indifference and squeezing your thighs together at the passion in his eye. “Fuck you, Aemond.”

“I’m going to give you another chance. Ask me nicely to fuck you until all those doubts you have are replaced by the empty space I will fill your pretty little head with,” He pulled at your hips, so that there was no empty space between you, your torso flush to his chest. Aemond felt deathly tense yet strangely relaxed at the feel of you gasping against him. “And we can put an end to this contest. I do regret that I have left you, my wife, unsatisfied but I want you begging first.”

You watched him closely, challenged him with your gaze. There was no chance you would beg and let him win. The air between you was charged with energy, hissing and stinging. It became heavy and despite the way both of you were breathing so heavily, chests rising and falling dramatically, you couldn’t get enough oxygen to fill your lungs. 

The thickness in the air only became heavier as you gripped his wrists, and moved slowly so that you straddled his right thigh. Aemond fisted the thin fabric of your dress and when you lightly pressed your leg against the hardness at his crotch, you felt his steady breath against your lips which lingered above his own. The skirts of your dress rode up to your hips. 

Lavender, leather and him. 

“You want me to ask you nicely, my prince?” You purred, relishing in the way Aemond’s jaw clenched when he felt your bare cunt press against his thigh. It sends a wave of pleasure straight through your body. “You want me to beg you to tear this dress off of me? To fuck me until I can no longer think of any word other than your name? To make me yours properly? Beg you to fuck me how you should have every night since our wedding?”

Aemond’s hands were grasping at the flesh all over your body, pulling at the fabric of your pathetic excuse of a gown until it ripped. There was a weight on his chest that only grew at the sight of your perfect skin through the torn fabric, your nipples slipping into his view. 

His voice was low and guttural. “The final chance. Be good and beg.”

“If you wish for me to be good,” you whispered into his ear, moving hastily to grip the back of his neck with one hand and the other holding his chin tightly as he had held yours minutes ago. He let out a strained sound through his teeth as you shifted against his cock, pretending to get comfortable.  “You should not have indulged in that whore.”

Aemond scowled at you. And he could have thrown you off of him but his hands continued to scorch the skin on your hips.

You realised you had never been so close to Aemond as you pressed a trail of tender kisses to his jaw. You were infinitely closer to him than all the times you had held onto him while walking the gardes or while he had bedded you with feigned disinterest. And you were aching with want and desire just as he was, your wetness seeping onto Aemond’s thigh. 

It was nothing in comparison to the rage that you had pent up. With a gasp you ground down on the strong muscle of his thigh, eyes fluttering at the sensation. Holding back a moan, you rested your forehead against Aemond’s and rocked your hips against him. 

You tightened your legs, well aware that Aemond could overpower you and have you under him in seconds. He was allowing you to have your moment and you pulled your hand from his jaw only for it to stay tightly locked as his fingers dug into your hips.

There would be bruises left on your skin for weeks but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, almost groaning out loud when Aemond took control of your movements, pushing and pulling your hips so that your clit rubbed against him perfectly. “Prince Aemond Targaryen. You think you can just do as you like and that there would be no consequences. That I would come crawling back to you so easily?”

A moan slipped from your lips when Aemond shifted his leg. You knew you were getting carried away, that the power you had over him was getting to your head but fuck. It didn’t matter. 

You dropped your hand to where Aemond’s cock pressed against one of your thighs, touching him gently over the sheet that covered him. It still surprised you just how perfectly big Aemond was, thick and hard in your palm. And then you held him firmly, rocking your weeping cunt against his thigh even harder when he groaned. It sent shock after shock straight through your core.

“Did you think I would be on my knees for you so easily just like she was?” You spat, whining at the pleasure that was incomparable to the way you had been touching yourself. Aemond hissed as you slid your hand up and then back down so slowly. “After those shows you put on for me, there is not a chance.” 

Countermoves. Aemond was good at them, even when struggling to even out his breath and regain his composure. “Tell me, which part did you enjoy the most? Was it when I fucked my seed into her throat? Or when was calling your name?” 

You gripped the back of his neck so hard, pushing your soaked pussy harder onto his leg. “Do not-”

Aemond hummed, his grip tightening painfully on your hips as he moved his leg in motion against you. He smirked when you shuddered, caressing your cheek with his nose as he spoke lowly into your ear once again. “I think I know. It was last night, when I had her on my tongue and thought only of how perfect your desperate little cunt would taste instead.”

“Aemond,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rolled your hips deliciously on his thigh. He let out a small, deep laugh at the way you trembled in his hands but you could hear that he was losing himself just as much as you were. “Gods.”

“I wish to know, princess. How many times have you touched yourself since that night, wishing you were in her place?”

You sucked in a breath, rutting against Aemond violently and he only pulled you in harder when you refused to answer his questions. Another moan. “Be quiet, Aemond.”

“Hm,” Aemond nipped at your earlobe. “Do you really want me to stop talking? You know that I can feel how wet it makes your perfect cunt. Desperate little slut.”

Whining and cursing him under your breath, you let yourself really look at him. Aemond’s sapphire eye shone under the early morning light that spilled in from the windows, his eye dark with lust and his jaw clenching as he watched you fall apart on his lap. 

Hips buckling as he continued to pull you back and forth on his thigh, spreading your wetness on the soft expanse of his skin, your legs failed to hold your weight and you had clearly resigned to letting Aemond take control of your pleasure. 

You were right at the edge and just as you started to ride out your orgasm, Aemond spoke.

“If you do not beg me,” he threatened. “I shall stop.”

“Gods, no–do not sto-”

Aemond held you still in response and no matter how you writhed against his grip, you couldn’t move. He was keeping you at the tipping point, smirking at the way you were gasping for air and squirming on his lap. But he was in no calmer state himself and you could tell his resolve was about to shatter. 

“Stand up. I want you on the bed,” He demanded. And when you didn’t move, he let go of your hip to lay a stiff smack to your backside. “Now.”

“No.” 

It was almost too easy and you snatched his wrist before he could return it to your hip, moving your hips and rubbing yourself against his leg again now that he only had one hand to try and control you.   

Aemond’s leg was slick and your clit was sliding deliciously across his skin. Fingernails dug into the flesh of your hips and you could feel Aemond’s frustration as he yanked his hand out of yours. But you blindly grasped at it again, shockwaves of white hot pleasure striking you suddenly as you came undone, your forehead falling forward to rest on Aemond’s as you let out a loud, drawn out moan. 

You shook through your orgasm, holding Aemond tightly. His cock throbbed against your thigh and you almost felt bad. 

“You should understand, my prince, if you continue to bring that whore to your bed then I am not above bringing another man to mine.” You struggled to catch your breath and your legs were still trembling as you stood, stepping away to pick up the coat you had dropped to the floor. 

Aemond glowered at you, his glare strong enough to have made you crumble before him were you not so high on adrenaline. 

“You would not dare,” he all but growled. 

“Have I not surprised you enough already, Lord Husband?” 

Aemond stood, the sheet falling to the floor, entirely naked and stiff against his stomach as he watched you don his coat. The anger in his voice only served to spur you on. “You will not leave. You would not dare to leave.”

“I am a princess, after all,” you looked at him over your shoulder, lip caught between your teeth at the sight of him bare, hard and infuriated. There was disbelief written all over his expression. “You will need to work much harder than that if you want me to give in.”

There was something new in the way Aemond looked at you. As if he was impressed. Admiring you, even through his frustration. And without giving yourself the chance for second thoughts, you walked right out Aemond’s chambers with a triumphant smile. 

[ethtyn]

LET'S GO OUT WITH A BANG 🚦

taglist:

@ashiyn @single-malt-scotch @goodtimeswithetho @pebbltree @crabbunch @catmaidetho @amethyst-allium @stitchthesewords

sooooo ermm i guess i get to talk about this piece now YIPPEE

i am one of those people who's constantly trying to figure out what their own art style looks like LMFAO. i take frequent breaks from art due to mental health shit so it feels like every time i come back i'm trying to find my footing again.

that being said, i had a lot of caffeine yesterday and started this on a whim and it ended up being something i'm incredibly proud of. i think it helps that i've been redrawing old emotes for a friend's twitch channel, so figuring out which brushes i like right now was really helpful, and i ended up using my personal emote palette like...a lot. that pink in Etho's eye, the purple used for shading, most of the browns are all used in my own emotes. it's wild how much having colours already picked out streamlines things!

Etho is the one i started with, of course, and ended up being one that i went back to re-draw after i'd done...three? or four? more, because the sizing wasn't right and i wasn't happy with the posing. i still wish i could have conveyed him dipping his chin into his coat fluff a little better, but oh well. i thought of the little detail of him looking at Martyn's drawing at the last second (#ethtyn4life) and it made me laugh so i did it. points to you if you caught that!

Joel was the second - life!Joel has always been fey in my head, especially after that season when he just went batshit insane the second he turned red. can't explain it, that's just how it be. i tried to give him an air of subtle menace about him but i think he just looks sleepy 💀 i'd like to do these as individual, larger pieces at some point, so maybe i can work on that more then.

Grian was the third - he reminds me of a Lost Boy here and that wasn't intentional but the Lost Boys always kind of freaked me out and life!Grian's kinda freaky so i think it fits. his little smirk is so creepy and i love him.

i don't remember who i did next after this so we'll just go in order pfft

Bdubs is SO CUTE look at him. one of the few where i couldn't make a menacing expression work, and honestly with how good his profile turned out i barely mind. i did that side profile with no reference, y'all, idk what kind of crack i was on last night. what the hell. this was about the point where i started wanting to do little lore doodles for everybody so i added the clock face - i think it clashes with the red background but what can you do.

CLEOOOOOO CLEO CLEO. i LOVED drawing them, i think their design is one of my favourites of the bunch. her hair has always been snakes in my head and AGAIN i drew those with no reference, can you fucking believe that. i loved the little detail of some of the snakes poking at the people next to her, they're so cute hehe. also Cleo has freckles now, i'm so sorry but i don't make the rules. someone complimented the teeth in the reblogs and THANK YOU!! they're not quite anatomically correct but fuck it we ball and they look cool as hell anyway.

Martyn is so smug, i love him. points if you caught that he's looking at Cleo bc Double Life, i wanted to do something a lil different with him than just another straight up symmetry tool drawing and i think it fits. he is so eye-searing tho sir please tone it down.

Lizzie is fey just like her husband, and also she is smol. i don't think it's conveyed as well as i'd like here but i also didn't want her to look like a straight-up child so i did what i could. she is So Scary with those vacant blue eyes oh my god. and drawing her hair was sooooo fun i love long hair ahh

with Gem i basically smoothed out a rough design sketch i posted awhile back and i'm so proud of the little head cock she's got going on, she looks so cool. also her hair?? idk how i did that. i love her swoopy bangs so much.

Pearl is moth. Pearl will always be Moth. so she got lil antennae and big buggy eyes. drawing that hood was so satisfying, i used to try and draw Raven Teen Titans in high school and could never get the hood to look right so seeing this one come out perfectly was sooooo good. and of course had to include a teensy moon.

that's all i've got, i think - i feel myself crashing LMFAO. maybe at some point i'll come back and say more but here's this for now!

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

𝙸𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚋?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ N o t e ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ This is a little draft that I've been working on for a while. I'm so sorry for the low activity. I didn't feel good because of uni. I'm in my last year of university, and it's draining me mentally lol. Anyway, I'll try to post often from now on. I hope you like this! Reblogs and comments are very appreciated!

If you want to support/commission me visit my ko-fi page. Thank you!

dom

definitely has a choking and a size kink.

Is into BDSM. Has a red room, which he shares with you.

He loves when you are needy for his touch or for his cock. He likes to tease you before giving you what you want.

Office sex is on a daily basis since he is busy all the time and barely home. He’ll hold your ass up while he slams inside you repeatedly, filling you over and over until you feel like exploding.

He also has a breeding kink. For him, you’re a superior human being just like him, and he intends to continue his bloodline with a worthy partner like you.

Speaking of which, he is very open about his kinks and expects the same from you.

He loves when you're under him, all needy and whiny, with tears falling down your cheeks as you scream his name and beg for more.

He can be rough, but only if you want him to be. He is aware of his strength and doesn’t want to hurt you.

He likes to see your pretty face and the many grimaces you make as he pleasures you.

He loves to see your eyes rolling and your mouth wide open.

Something tells me he is a sub.

has a size kink and a phone sex one (because he is gone on missions for months, and when he misses you, he just calls you for that naughty time).

likes it when you talk dirty to him.

He is also into roleplay.

This guy tried to be dom for once and ended up using the safe word for himself because he was afraid of hurting you.

He is not into very kinky stuff, but he won't say no if you want to try something bold. Just give him a heads-up.

loves to please his mistress. He doesn't mind if you mark or scratch him.

loves to be called "captain."

Likes to go down on you. There’s something that turns him on whenever you moan his name or when your fingers are tangled between his hairs.

He loves when you come all over his face and smear his beard and chin with your juice.

switch

It depends on his mood,e honest. tbh

Likes the doctor/patient roleplay and has no shame in using the labs from his work.

You two definately fucked after getting rid of the las plagas. It's ironic that you moan on the very same chair you used to scream in pain.

He loves to have you on top, regardless of whether he’s a dom or a sub.

You keep tracing the scar on his chest with your fingers whenever you see it because you think it looks very sexy on him. It also turns you on.

He loves to give oral sex. He'll bury his face between your legs every time he gets the chance. He’ll eat you out on every surface possible and in every pose. Desk, operator table, bed, kitchen counter, everywhere

He loves when you order him around.

"Does my pretty mistress require my services?"

You can't work together because you'll end up fucking.

It's the pretty boyfriend that spits in your mouth.

Very possesive. If he sees someone flirting with you, he'll make sure to remind you to whom you belong.

dom

This man has no shame when it comes to marking you. He’ll leave hickeys in visible spots (neck, shoulder) and in hidden ones (waist, thigh, and ass, which is his favorite spot to mark).

Has a roleplay kink too. His favorite scenarios are either government agent/rescued civilian or government agent/secret spy (for obvious reasons).

You’re definitely fucking in his office from the White House. You’ve been bent over that desk more than over your own bed.

Likes to go deep, so deep that it hits your cervix.

While you’re bent over, he’ll pull you by your hair and bring you closer to his face. He’ll whisper dirty things to you, which will only turn you on more.

Leon loves when you blow on him, and moreover, he loves the sight of his cock slowly disappearing into your mouth. You’ll pull some sinful moans and whimpers out of him.

Likes to be called "Mister Kennedy."

Has a hair-pulling kink.

If not bent over his desk, he likes to have you on top of him. He’ll praise you for the beautiful work you’re doing. With hands on your thighs, he’ll guide your body as you ride him.

Switch

He has a punny mouth, and you'll have to punish him a lot. He doesn't mind, though, and sometimes he does it on purpose.

He'll have you sitting on his face for breakfast, dinner, and lunch.

He is extremely possessive, so when you come home, he'll make sure to remind you that you belong to him and him only.

Has moments when he talks very dirty and moments when you are his "princess."

"Oh, look at you, such a slut for my cock. You want Daddy inside you that bad, huh?"/ "Oh princess, you don't have to beg; I'm right here for your needs."

He will definitely slap your ass and will be very satisfied to see a red mark in the shape of his hand appear on your flesh.

It fucks you deep, so deep that your body goes numb and your toes curl.

He loves when you use him for your own pleasure.

Loves to make a mess, especially over your chest.

Is into roleplay

Can be very sweet, and aftercare is a must. He'll wash up the mess he made and massage your sore body.

dom

Has a knife and a size kink

Will pull out his knife and run the blade across your body. You’ll feel the cold blade running from your neck, between your breasts, or on your inner thighs. He’ll chuckle deviously while you squirm under his touch.

Likes to fuck you with his fingers. He loves to see how his fingers slowly disappear into your tight cunt. They’re thick, and you can barely take two of them.

He is a strong guy, and he enjoys pinning you down and pushing that cock inside you. Wall sex is among his favorites.

has a major praise kink. The slightest praise will get him over the edge, and he'll start thrusting like an animal inside you. He'll also become very vocal and demand that you keep praising him.

He loves when you struggle to take him.

He isn't that much into bondaje, but he won't say no if you ask him nicely.

He'll bite you and won't care if he marks you. He knows that you enjoy it, though.

"Just look how this little cunt of yours clench around me whenever I bite you. How interesting..."

dom

Will use his metal-bending powers in bed to make handcuffs or bend the metal frame to hold your hands.

Has a bondage kink, obviously. Likes to tie you up and show how helpless you are in his touch.

He also loves to tease you until you beg him with tears in your eyes to let you orgasm.

He loves when you get so desperate for his attention that you basically beg him to fuck you.

He loves when you climb on his lap while he works and then start to rub your cunt over his bulge.

"You'll have to work harder for that kitten."

Oh, this bitch

He loves when you give him a hug while he is at the desk. He'll occasionally stop his work to grab your hair and buckle his hips to fuck your pretty mouth.

He can be sweet, although that happens very rarely.

He loves when you make yourself pretty for him; he goes feral when he sees you in lingerie.

sub

He loves when you’re in control of him and tell him what to do.

When you give attention to his neck, he turns into a needy, whimpering mess.

Doesn’t mind if you mark him.

He plays it tough at first, but all that tough guy act disappears when you take him in your mouth.

Likes to be spanked and cuffed.

He loves when you mark him because he wants people to see that he belongs to you.

He can't get enough of your touch; he is addicted.

He can get clingy at times, but you don't mind. He is like a little puppy.

Definitely walked him with a leash around the house at some point.

Loves to give you oral. You'll find him crawling between your legs while you do your tasks, and he won't leave until you orgasm.

He loves when you pull his hair, and you'll hear or feel him moaning the harder you pull.

Tag-list: @lunarastrobabe@shadow-wolf510@skylar-todd@alewesker@rokurodokuro@brownsugarwrites (if you want to be added DM me 🤗)

[mysteria157]

Unsteady Ground

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: Light angst, just fluffy but scarred Post-Shibuya Nanami

WC: ~2.1k

Summary: 

Nanami gets more than what he bargained for with the kind receptionist who checks him in for his weekly appointments.

Notes: Hello! Been thinking about Nanami if he was still injured but survived the Shibuya Incident and this is just one of many little thoughts I've had. Hoping to write more soon!

Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @cafekitsune @awenise

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | Come Say Hi!

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

What was he thinking?

Nanami Kento prides himself on his self-awareness—a man who can map out his strengths and weaknesses like well-worn territories on a battle-scarred map. He’s the epitome of controlled courage, a figure who could march into dank, shadow-filled alleys and pungent sewage tunnels, his fear compressed into a hard knot beneath his ribs, as he methodically tracked and exorcised curses with cold efficiency. 

So this is new. It has to be.

What was he thinking?

He was thinking about you.

You, who he first saw through a haze of discomfort at the reception desk during his initial therapy appointment. His eye patch itched against his brow, a constant reminder of Dagon’s domain and the razor-sharp fish-like teeth that sunk into his flesh. The burns on his left side stretched tight beneath layers of Mederma a constant, throbbing presence. He felt raw, exposed, his mind a blender of pain and misery, haunted by the taunting echoes of a patchwork curse that still clawed at the edges of his dreams.

But then, there was you.

You, whose voice flowed like silk when you asked for his name and date of birth to check him in. Your words, a gentle current, seemed to wash away the stark clinical atmosphere. With each subtle movement, a hint of vanilla across your desk, wrapping him in its warmth, coaxing his tense shoulders away from his ears.

You, who lingered in his mind long after each encounter. Your daily ask about how he was doing, though met with the same stoic response, became a small ritual he found himself anticipating. Your presence had become a soothing balm to his frayed nerves, somehow making the hard recovery of his life a little more bearable.

You, whose eyes lit up many weeks later as you spoke of the Christmas market in town, your voice brimming with excitement about the newly opened rink.

In that moment, driven by an unfamiliar, overwhelming desire—no, need—to simply fan the flames of whatever was licking to life in his chest, he spoke without thinking. The words tumbled out, clumsy and hopeful. His face flushed, his usually composed demeanor cracking.

“We could go together this weekend if you would like?”

Stupid. Absolutely, unequivocally stupid. 

Nanami Kento, what were you thinking?

A soft smile played at the corners of your mouth, your head tilted ever so slightly, curls dancing in a nonexistent wind as you regarded him with warmth and a lifted brow that made his breath catch.

“Are you asking me on a date, Nanami Kento?” Playful and tinged with an essence of hope that made his heart race even faster.

“I—“ He was thinking of you. Only you. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

The cool air of the ice rink slaps Nanami’s face with every person that skates past him, his heart racing with a mix of dread and shame that pulses through his veins. A group of teenagers glides by effortlessly, their showboating twirls and spins threatening to pull his mouth into a sneer. They’re no doubt mocking him as he stands stock still against the glass wall, gloved hands pressed flat as if he could suction himself in place.

He’s endured years of Gojo's incessant, annoying taunts and needless provocations. He’s faced cursed spirits without flinching, coolly efficient even as his watch ticked down the final minutes before six. But now, the prospect of revealing his complete and utter lack of skating ability to you terrifies him more than any supernatural threat.

He had every opportunity to reveal his incompetence. He did nothing as you both laced up your skates. Smiled softly as he listened to you chat animatedly about your favorite winter activities. Kept his spine taut as you adjusted his eye patch, fingers trailing feather light along his jaw. Even as you pulled him by the hand towards the rink, his legs wobbling like a newly born doe on the thin blades, he could only clench his jaw and follow.

He encouraged you to go without him, to warm up while he adjusted to the weight of strangers’ gaze when they saw him for the first time. Even with so much practice, the discomfort, even after all this time, burns more fiercely than Jogo's searing touch ever did. 

But he knows he can’t delay the inevitable. Soon, you’ll return, expectant and eager, and he’ll be exposed. The memory of asking you on this date flashes through his mind—a moment of uncharacteristic impulsivity born from longing and evolutionary competition. He’d watched the parade of men filing in for their appointments, each one a potential rival. The brunette who shows up at 3 PM, with his easy smile and effortless charm, was particularly concerning. So Nanami can’t fail now.

Steeling himself, he takes a tentative step. The blades slide across the ice, taking him further than what he intended. His knees lock, his back sways unsteadily, and his arms flail as he tries to find balance.

Somehow, he can hear Haibara laughing from the grave. He can almost see his old friend, red-faced and doubled over, teasing him without shame for never accepting that impromptu hockey game invitation their first year.

“I can do this,” he whispers to himself, desperately praying to whoever will listen for sudden knowledge. He takes another step, a short glide up with his left foot and it’s no good. His legs wobble dangerously, arms windmilling as he grasps for the wall and throws every curse known to heaven and hell, fogging the glass with his acidic words.

The teenagers zoom by again, and he swears one of them snickers, skating backward with infuriating ease as they disappear from view.

“Kento?” Your voice, honeyed with concern, reaches him from behind. It’s too sweet, too kind to quell the embarrassment that runs in rivulets down his back. You appear in the peripheral of his right eye, your lips pinched behind your teeth as you stop in front to take him in. “You’ve never skated before, have you?”

For a fleeting moment, Nanami considers trying again, hoping to slip and knock himself unconscious to escape this mortifying situation.

He feels heat rise to his cheeks. “I may have overestimated my abilities,” he admits, his dry tone a thin cover over his embarrassment as he clings to the rink’s walls like a lifeline.

To his relief, your face softens with understanding rather than judgment. You skate backward with effortless grace, hands outstretched towards him. “Trust me?”

He hesitates, eyeing your hands. Part of him wants to refuse, to flail his way off the rink so he can take off these atrocious skates and maintain some semblance of dignity. But a larger part, the part that has been drawn to you from the start, longs to brush his hands against yours.

Your cream-colored gloves intertwine with his. “Just glide. Follow my feet,” you encourage, slowly skating backward and guiding him forward.

You flow like water on the ice, fluid and sure as if you’re a professional, without a hint of hesitation. He’s mildly green with envy because he’s a stark contrast. Legs stubbornly locked, feet shuffling rather than gliding. He tries to focus on the mechanics of skating, on keeping his balance, but he finds his attention irresistibly drawn to you. 

You’ve taken off your winter coat, and a soft navy sweater hugs your curves, accentuating your form. He’s seen it beneath crisp blouses and pencil skirts. Your leggings outline powerful thighs that bunch with your movements, yielding strength and practice. The overhead lights catch the small puffs of air that ghost from your mouth as you guide him patiently across the ice, no sound reaching his ears because he’s not paying attention.

Your hair, a glorious bundle of curls, cascades from beneath a navy beanie, framing your warm face and kissing your cheeks. Small gold hoops in your ears catch the light with each graceful motion, their gentle swaying hypnotizing Nanami, drawing him further into your orbit and away from reality.

He’s lost in admiring you—the kindness in your eyes, the way your presence makes him feel both vulnerable and safe even as his life has been so tragically altered.

It’s in this moment of distraction, his heart full and unguarded, that his skates and your teachings betray him. As you attempt a gentle turn, his feet slip, zipping awkwardly to the side.

“Kento!”

You grip his hands tightly, urging him to regain his footing, but he’s caught in a comical dance, legs churning in place as he fights to stay upright.

“Wait! Kento just—okay, just try to come to a stop. A stop, Kento, don’t—” He attempts to halt, overcompensating with force. 

“For fucks sake—!” He grunts, feet flying out from under him, launching up as if he’s a cartoon villain slipping on a banana peel, bucking him off the ice and taking you with him as you both come crashing down onto the unforgiving cold ground.

Somehow, he doesn’t hit his head, but his back and ass scream from the impact. At least you were able to use him to cushion your blow, and you lay across his chest, face buried in his wool coat.

Seconds stretch into eternity as you both lie there, panting. Nanami fixes his gaze on the ceiling, half-hoping the harsh glare of the overhead lights will burn the cornea of his remaining eye and blind him completely from this whole ordeal.

“Well,” you murmur, voice muffled against his coat, “should we get up?”

“No…no, I quite like it down here,” Nanami responds, deadpan delivery masking the absolute sincerity of his words.

You pull your head from his chest to look down at him. Nanami’s eyes meet yours, staring, unblinking, mortified, and wishing the ground could liquefy and then freeze over, trapping him underneath.

With impeccable timing and bone-dry delivery, you quip, “I guess for a first date, this was a good way to break the ice.”

Nanami blinks, processing your words. The absurdity of the situation—the terrible pun, your matter-of-fact delivery, the undignified sprawl of limbs—hits Nanami all at once. A laugh bubbles from deep in his chest, croaking through years of cobwebs as it grows into a full-bodied guffaw.

The sound of his laughter surprises him as much as it does you. Your eyes and his one widen in delight at this rare display of uninhibited joy and soon you’re both laughing, the sound echoing across the rink.

The scarred side of his mouth twinges uncomfortably, but he doesn’t care, he can’t. His laughter, rich and unbridled, hiccups from slightly chapped and upturned lips.

As your laughter subsides, Nanami realizes he can’t remember the last time he laughed like this—free, unguarded, genuinely happy. He takes in the sight of you: your beanie askew, a cascade of messy curls tumbling over one shoulder; ice shavings glistening as they melt on your cheek; your lip gloss slightly smeared, yet still inviting. 

Your eyes meet his, and for the millionth time in only a few short weeks of knowing you, his heart skips a beat. With a gentleness, you reach up to adjust his eye patch—a gesture so intimate, so accepting of all that he is, that Nanami hopes it becomes a habit. 

He watches, breath hitching, as you shift, sliding yourself up his chest with a soft grunt of effort. For a moment, you hover there, your faces inches apart. Nanami can feel the warmth of your breath, senses the unasked question of what you want to do. And whatever his face conveys, must be enough for a smile that outshines the gleam of the ice around you to blossom on your face as you close the distance.

The press of your glossy lips against his still catches Nanami by surprise. For a heartbeat, he’s frozen, overwhelmed by the sensation. But only a second later, he melts and softens into you. One hand finds the small of your back, the other sliding against your cheek, drawing you closer as he returns the kiss and opens something within him that he knows you’ve found the key to.

For a second, it washes away the pain of his past, the destruction that he took part in, the friends he’s lost along the way, and he feels okay. If only for a moment, and maybe being with you can help the wounds in his chest and along his left side heal over time.

The ice is cold beneath him, his dignity is probably bruised along with his back and ass, but in this moment, given a second chance at life, hopefully with you, he feels wonderfully, perfectly alive.

Thanks for reading!!

[reiderwriter]

Hating You Is The Easiest Thing I Can Do

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: When your boss pulls your case out from under you and gives it right to the BAU, you're pissed. You're even more pissed when Doctor Spencer Reid suggests you can't do your job properly. After a week in his company, you decide to give him a piece of your mind

Warnings: Day One of Kinktober - Hate Sex, enemies to lovers, dom/sub, Mean!Dom!Spencer, Brat!Reader, spanking, degradation, spanking, spit kink, sir kink, vaginal fingering, slight creampie, Reader's boss is an asshole, typical office misogyny. Spencer is also an asshole, but that's just because he's a dumbass.

A/N: Special thank you to @reidmotif and @mrs-dr-reid for proofreading this one for me! I wrote this when on a major Pride and Prejudice moment, which is why there's a whole lot of plot before the sex. I hope you like the build-up just as much as the smut! <3 If you like it, don't forget to leave a like, reply, or reblog and tell me your thoughts! ((just as a reminder, apart for Sundays and Tuesdays, I'll be posting all the kinktober fics on AO3 exclusively, so check out my writing there - reiderwriter))

My requests are also back open now, so if you like my writing and have an idea, check out my request guidelines and drop me a message in my inbox! You can find the rest of my masterlist here :)

To say you were angry was an understatement. You were seething, the anger bubbling up inside of you and threatening to lash out at anyone who so much as crossed your path as you made your way down the crappy motel corridor. You'd only known Spencer Reid a week, but you could think of no one you despised more.

The FBI had always been a boys' club, you knew that. There were some goddamn strong women in your field office, of course, but you were outnumbered 10 to 1. Which was why you were so determined to do well on the first case assigned to you as lead Agent. The first week of the case, you'd made sure you were thorough. A body had been found in the park by a jogger, and you darted to the crime scene the moment you got the call. A woman in her early twenties, like you, had been raped, tortured, and then dumped here, her body posed in a demeaning way to make it seem as if she were performing a sexual act. Your entire body shuddered at the sight, but you couldn't let your coworkers see you weak so you powered through. Collecting evidence, getting an ID on the victim, interviewing potential witnesses, and yes, even breaking the news to the poor girl's family, you had been so attentive to every detail of the case and you felt you were making progress, your boss delivered a humbling blow.

"Another body has been discovered. I've invited the Behavioural Analysis Unit in from Quantico because you're in over your head." He'd told you, not even looking up at you from the file he was reading on his desk.

"What? I wasn't told about another body, why wasn't I notified?"

"I didn't think you needed to know, now that the BAU is coming in."

"So I'm off the case? That's it?"

"No, I want you to assist them in their investigation. Tell them everything you've gathered so far, get them situated in the office as best you can."

"Get them coffee when they want it? Rub their feet if they ask for it? This is bullshit, I was making progress, if you'd only have given me more time-"

"Agent, I suggest you walk out of this office right now and get your PMSing under control before I have to suspend you from fieldwork." You pressed your nails further into the beds on your palms then and bit back your tongue from replying, simply giving a terse nod and exiting the office.

It wasn't even an hour later before the new team arrived, and you offered a tense smile and welcome as you got them set up in their own office. The Unit Chief didn't seem too bad, but Aaron Hotchner couldn't exactly be described as the most welcoming of people, and you felt an instant camaraderie with JJ, the other agent who'd come into the office with him. There were more agents apparently, but they'd gone out into the field to check out the new victim and reinterview the family, something you weren't exactly happy about. But, if you were going to be their little bitch for the next week, you were at least thankful they were tolerable and polite.

"So here's everything I've got so far. I've been pretty thorough in my interrogations of potential witnesses, and there are no CCTV cameras in the general vicinity of the dump sites, so I don't think you'll find anything else there that'll aid in your profile."

" If you'd have been thorough you'd have found this though, right?" A new voice popped up from the door, and you felt yourself tense up under the sudden accusation. Looking up you saw he was holding up his phone, a picture of a strange marking on a tree lighting up the screen.

"Excuse me?"

"This was left on a tree roughly thirty feet from the first dump site. I called Rossi and Morgan and they found a similar marking near the second victim. It's a Mesopotamian symbol relating to the worship of prostitutes and sex workers to promote fertility." He spoke plainly, but all you could hear was the condescension in his tone, and your blood boiled with rage.

" Agent Y/L/N, I'm sorry about him, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, he's another member of our team." JJ introduced the man, sending him a warning glance, as if letting him know that he hadn't just put his foot in his mouth directly.

You looked at the man then, really focusing on him now instead of the pictures, and almost cursed out loud again. He was a jerk, but fuck was he attractive. Tousled hair, dark eyes, and a perfectly sculpted jaw, it was as if he were sent from hell directly to piss you off and tempt you. You pushed the attraction aside for the minute then, choosing to be the bigger person and introduce yourself.

"I'm Agent Y/N Y/L/N. And I'm sorry that I'm not an expert on Mesopotamian prostitutes, but I guess that's probably your specialty, right, Doctor?" You held out your hand for him to shake, but he just looked down at it.

"If you're referring to my doctorate, I actually didn't study classic civilizations. I hold PhDs in Math, Chemistry, and Engineering and additional BAs in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology. And I don't do handshakes." He glanced straight past you after that, walking back over to Hotch and filling him in on other things you must've overlooked during your brief time working the case.

You glared at his back, finally letting your hand drop to your side again as you let out an angry chuckle.

"Don't take it personally, Spencer is just… He’s He's not great with people. He'll warm up to you." JJ put a reassuring arm on your shoulder and you nodded. But inside you knew there was not one thing the man could do to reverse the bad opinion of him you'd just gained.

–X–

After the initial anger of having the case seeped out from beneath you wore off, you actually began enjoying your time with the BAU. You hadn't put much thought into profiling before, it usually being so far off your radar while you were working in the field office but you were actually coming to enjoy how they worked, and you'd learned a lot.

Your relationship with Spencer, however, only degraded.

Your hatred had reignited the moment you'd been joined by the rest of the BAU Team. Your boss has finally come down to greet them, and, almost as if making you pay for your earlier comments, had genuinely sent you on a coffee run for them. You could deal with the fact that the man had the most annoyingly complicated coffee order you'd ever heard of in the Bureau, but what you couldn't forgive were the sly comments you walked in on when you returned.

"Come on, Reid. That Agent is easy on the eyes, you should talk to her, get you a slice of that." You'd been introduced to Derek Morgan earlier and you'd instantly pegged him as a flirt, so this wasn't exactly shocking to you. What was a bit surprising was the other man's reply.

"If she's attractive I hadn't noticed. I've been too busy trying to clear up her mess with this case."

You walked in the door then, coffees in hand, and slammed his drink down on the table for him. You handed Morgan to him, double-checking that you'd got both of their orders right before shooting another glare at the man and walking away to find the rest of the team.

But not before hearing Morgan chastise Reid in another whisper: "God man, you gotta be nicer to the kid…"

To say that your working relationship had soured totally after your two personal encounters with the man was simply an untruth. You didn't have a working relationship, you had a working rivalry.

From then on, you'd slyly interrupt the man when he was speaking, telling him to cut his genius rambles in half, that you didn't have all day to sit around and wait for him to stutter his way through his theory while there was a murderer on the loose.

He didn't hold back either, constantly asking you questions he knew you didn't know the answers to, just to smile slyly down at you and make you admit that you weren't as good as him. It was getting so detrimental to the office atmosphere that you had to be genuinely separated after only three days, Hotchner bringing you into the field with him on multiple occasions and forcing Reid to stay behind with JJ to work on a geographical profile.

You'd been with Hotchner at a family interview, working with him to gain details of the second victim's actions and whereabouts leading up to her murder to establish a timeline when you got a call.

Excusing yourself from the room, you quickly picked up the call.

"This is Agent Y/L/N."

"Hotch isn't picking up his phone." That was all the explanation you got from the man on the other side of the phone, his voice instantly grating.

"Yes, I'd assume he isn't, Doctor Reid, because we are currently interviewing a bereaved mother and father and he put his phone on silent. Is there something you need?"

"I need to talk to Hotch."

"Well, you called me. What do you need?" You heard him breathe out a frustrated sigh on the other side of the line, and you rolled your eyes, slightly enjoying being this stubborn and getting under his skin.

"Just tell him we're ready to give the profile, okay?" He hung on you after that and you cursed him down the line, receiving nothing back but the empty beeps of the dial tone.

–X–

It didn't take long after delivering the profile to get your guy, but as he hadn't been in the middle of committing any felonies when you picked him up, you'd had to spend a few days in the interrogation rooms.

Hotch had taken a crack at him and gotten nowhere, and so had Rossi and Emily and Morgan. JJ had been the one to make the arrest, so she went in last and still came out with nothing much. He hadn't layered up yet, as they'd suspected he wouldn't, too egotistical to allow anyone else into the room that he thought he was going to talk himself out of.

"We're getting nowhere with this, Hotch. I think I have an idea that could get him to start talking." Reid said as you all stared at the man through the one-way glass.

"What, you think you can charge in there and get him to talk?" It was petty, but it'd been a stressful week, and he was used to this flow of conversation between the two of you.

"No, you are. Hotch, she fits his type, she's attractive, same build and coloring as the previous two victims. I think it'd work." You scoffed at his suggestion.

"Oh so now you think I'm attractive? I thought you hadn't noticed because you were, what, too busy cleaning up my mess?" You crossed your arms as he gave you an incredulous look, and you realized that he didn't think you'd heard him.

"Spencer's right, Y/N." Hotch nodded, looking between the two of you to see if he needed to pull you apart to keep you from fighting or to keep you from jumping each other. You personally weren't sure which you'd like most at that point, cursing yourself as you let your eyes trail down his body.

"It's going to excite him having you so close, you should pop a few of those buttons, too," Reid suggested looking down at your chest as you scoffed and crossed your arms.

"Oh you'd really like that," you mumbled under your breath, but a swift look from Hotch had you shutting your mouth again as he began to brief you.

Going in you felt a surge of pettiness seep through you. You were going to nail this guy, get him to talk about every little nasty thing he did to those girls, and prove to your boss that you could do this when every member of the BAU had tried and failed. But a small, dim, and annoying reminder at the back of your head whispered in your ear that you'd be pleasing Spencer then as well. Proving him right. You weren't sure if you wanted to succeed to hear him or your boss say "good job" to you after you finally succeeded, but when you imagined it with him, he was a whole lot closer, right in your ear, body pressed against yours.

You focused on your anger over your attraction and pushed into the room, ready to stare down a monster and escape unharmed.

–X–

It had worked, of course. It had taken a few hours of building rapport but you'd done it. You'd had him eating out the palm of your hand while he confessed to the three murders you knew about and an extra four that you didn't.

A day of retrieving bodies later and by 10 pm, the case was finally closed.

"Well done, kid, you really got him in that interview. That was some great work." Morgan nudged your elbow as he grabbed his duffle, exiting the makeshift office.

"Don't forget we're getting drinks at the cocktail bar in half an hour. Shower off that mud and change into a hot dress, Agent, and I'll buy you your first shot." Emily called back to you from the exit too, leaving you in a fit of giggles as you promised her you would.

Once they'd all gone, you started packing up your things ready to leave yourself when there was another knock at the door.

" Hey, I need to grab my bag." Reid stood in the door awkwardly, and your smile dropped into a politely neutral face as you nodded to him.

"Don't let me stop you, Doc."

"Spencer."He said, stepping a bit closer to you.

"What?"

"I want you to call me Spencer. You keep calling me Doctor or Doc, I want you to call me Spencer."

"No. Doctor Reid is just fine for me."

"And what if I want more?" He grabbed your wrist as you turned to go, using a bit too much force and leaving you stumbling into him, hitting his chest as you looked up at him, your noses almost touching with the proximity.

"Let me go," you growled, but his grip loosened and you didn't move an inch.

"What if I want more?" He asked again, a little more insistent this time, his eyes dark in the dim room, expression unreadable.

"Why should I care what you want, Doctor Reid?"

"Because I think you want it, too. Because I think that despite all the odds, you want me just as much as I want you."

Your anger burst out of you in a sarcastic laugh then at his presumptuous words.

"Despite all the odds? What odds are those Spencer? You treat me like shit, ignoring me, refusing to even shake my hand, and downplaying the hard fucking work I put in before you got here? God, you are so fucking narcissistic." You finally stepped away from him then, turning away to regain your composure.

"Me? I'm not the one who missed some vital fucking evidence in a murder investigation, Y/N, so I'm sorry I wasn't the most welcoming person, but God if we're talking egos, you should probably check yourself."

"Forget it, you're impossible. I really tried to be nice to you, but more fool me for making messes you had to clean up."

"Are you still stuck on that? Y/N, I'm sorry, but Derek just has a way of-" He stepped closer to you again and you could feel the oxygen being sucked from your lungs.

"Don't you dare blame this on Morgan. You're attracted to me and you fucking despise that, and it's none of Morgan’s fault. Now please, just get out of this fucking office and go back to your motel room." You practically hissed those last words at him, holding back the urge to scream in frustration. Your lips were so close now, as his chest heaved, hands clenched by his sides as he resisted the urge to grab you.

"Forgive me… for suggesting something so obviously repulsive to you." With that, he brushed past you and walked out, leaving you reeling at his almost confession, head light from the lack of air. He'd taken your breath with him as he left the room.

–X–

The promise of free shots had convinced you to get back out to the bar as promised, not letting Reid and his fickle moods control when and where you'd be enjoying yourself.

You finally showed up at the bar and were greeted by hugs from JJ and Emily, already one drink in as they immediately handed you a shot from the bar. Guiding you back to the table, you paused as you saw him there.

Morgan was sat at the table, happily chatting away with Reid, who'd since grown quiet, eyes meeting yours before leaving to rake down your frame. You resisted the urge to cover yourself, confidently standing tall as he devoured you with his eyes. Changing out of your work clothes, you'd decided that you needed some fun tonight, donning a short red dress, barely hitting the tops of your thighs, hugging your curves tightly, and pushing your chest up so it nearly spilled out completely. You'd completed the look with thigh-high black boots and a red lip, looking the absolute image of lust - or anger - personified.

"Whew mama, you look good, Y/N." Morgan greeted you, standing up to give you a kiss on the cheek. Reid still said nothing but kept his eyes trained on you as he took another sip of his drink.

"I was promised shots and dancing, I think I'm dressed pretty appropriately don't you think?" You smiled and giggled up at Morgan, letting your touch linger on him a little longer to see if it would spur Reid into action.

"Have I ever told you about my very good friend Penelope Garcia? I think you two would get along just fine."

The rest of the night continued in a similar vein. You'd stepped out onto the dance floor with Emily and JJ, letting whatever man wanted to sidle up close, begging one of them to be a distraction from the man whose eyes were boring into you from the other side of the room. It didn't work. Their hands were on your hips, guiding you to the sound of the music but in your head, all you saw was him, doing the same.

It didn't help that he was getting hit on constantly from his perch beside Morgan, and you watched with a bitter feeling at the bottom of your stomach as women tried, unsuccessfully, to get him to pay attention to them. After another frustrating invitation for a tryst with a local man, you excused yourself from the dance floor, finding Morgan in the bar, letting him know that you were calling it a night.

"Where's Reid?" You asked, trying and failing to sound casual as you glanced around the now crowded bar for signs of him.

"He left like ten minutes ago. Said he was tired and went back to the motel."

"Was he…" You didn't want to finish the question, not knowing which answer you'd prefer, but Morgan filled in the gaps himself with a wide grin.

"Alone? Yes, kid. Here, it's the address of the motel we're staying at and his room number." You hesitated before grabbing the paper and grabbing your stuff, practically running from the bar and hopping in the nearest taxi.

–X–

That's how you found yourself stomping down the corridor of the motel, pounding on his door at 1 a.m., unashamed in your brazen actions. He opened the door, slightly shocked to see you there, and you pushed your way inside and turned on him as you shut the door.

"What the fuck was all of that?" You demanded as soon as he turned back to you. His shirt was open now, jacket and tie discarded on the floor somewhere deeper into the room, but you forced yourself to look up into his eyes, away from the pale plains of his skin.

"What was what, Y/N?"

"You, staring at me like that the whole night and then just leaving."

"Did you want me to stay?"

"I want you to stop answering my questions with questions, Reid. This is bullshit, you can't act like a dick to me all week and then look at me like I'm a piece of meat you want to rip apart, for fucks sake."

"You made it very clear earlier tonight that you wanted no part of this, Y/N. Are you saying I should've done something else?"

"That's another fucking question, Spencer! If you don't start actually talking to me, I swear to god, I'll-" You ran a hand through your hair, and when you looked up again, he was closer than ever. You backed up into the wall, but he followed you, pressing a leg between your own. Slowly and with that condescending grin plastered across his face, he drawled out his next words.

"You'll what?"

Your lips crashed against his with the fury of your frustrations, a mess of teeth and tongue and biting anger as you surged forward into him.

With a rough push of your hips, he slammed you back into the wall, taking charge of the situation, coaxing his tongue into your mouth, battling you for control, and winning. Grabbing you by the neck he slowly pulled his lips away from yours, leaving you gasping for breath.

"Don't be such a brat, Y/N. When I ask you questions, it's because I want answers." You moaned as you tried to regain his lips, but he chuckled and kept you pinned.

"Tell me, baby, what should I have done earlier instead? Got down on my knees to beg your forgiveness, or thrown you over that desk and used you like a cheap little whore? I think I know which one you prefer."

You moaned at his words, but kept your mouth twisted in a grimace, choosing not to answer. He got tired of waiting, and, with a swiftness you didn't know he possessed, twisted you around so your hands were planted against the wall, your chest pushing against it too as he pulled your hips up and out, effectively baring your pantie-clad pussy to him as your dress pushed up and over your ass all by itself.

"So fucking slutty. You let all those men in that club touch you while you stared at me the entire time." He ran his hands across your ass massaging you underneath your underwear before pulling his hands away again and grabbing your hips. He pushed his clothed cock against you from behind and you moaned at how hard and big he felt already.

"Was this what you wanted, brat?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"I think you'd much prefer it if I fucked you, don't you think?" He turned you around again, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around him, the new angle pressing your core further into his cock.

"Open your mouth, now." Against your better judgment, your body reacted to him quickly, your tongue dropping out of your mouth as he ground his cock into your core, effectively dry-humping you. With a swift motion, he spat in your mouth, your eyes going wide as you instinctively shut your mouth and swallowed.

"Good girl," he stroked your hair, lifting you up and carrying you to the bed. His lips locked with yours as you tasted his spit on your lips, letting him take control and move you in any way he pleased.

"But you've been a brat," he said pulling away. "And brats need to be punished."

With that he forced you over his knee, pulling your panties down as he positioned your hips higher, your ass raised. He fisted one hand into your hair and began softly stroking your ass with the other.

"You're going to count for me, baby. If you lose count, we'll start again. With each number, I'll tell you what you did wrong, okay?"

"Fuck, yes, yes sir." With another soft touch, he pulled his hand up and bought it back again down sharply, letting it cup your ass as you hissed from the sting.

"O-One."

"That was for being a brat in the office. Being so confident you missed some vital evidence that was staring you right in the face."

He did it again, and you squirmed under his touch.

"Two."

"That was for teasing me in front of Hotch. Making me get hard right there in the office before you went to interrogate that creep."

"That made you hard?" You gasped out as he cracked out another slap to your ass. "Three."

"That was for talking. You need to stop fucking talking." He stroked your ass again, delivering a fourth, fifth, and sixth blow in quick succession as you felt yourself leak your arousal all over his lap.

"That was for dressing like a little whore tonight. That was for flirting with Morgan. That was for letting another man touch you. What do you have to say for yourself now, brat?" Your breaths stuttered out of you as you tried to compose yourself, confident that he'd finished your punishment now.

"G-Go…. FuckFuck yourself." He growled and threw you back on the bed, ripping your dress off over your head and letting his lips return to yours as he trailed his hand to between your legs, finally pushing two fingers inside of you as you moaned and writhed beneath him.

" I hate you," you moaned in his ear as his lips trailed down to your breasts.

"You have a funny way of showing it." Your orgasm was rapidly approaching, so close you could practically taste it. He sensed it as well, though, and pulled his fingers out of you before you could reach that bliss.

"You thought it would be that easy, brat?" he whispered in your ear with a low chuckle before flipping you over to your front and thrusting his fingers back into you from behind, causing another moan to rip from your throat, uncontrollably loud in the otherwise silence of the motel at night.

Unzipping his pants and freeing his cock, you felt the weight of it on your ass as he rubbed his precum against your now bright red asscheeks.

"You're going to look so pretty with my cum decorating your ass baby. It's going to make your ass feel better, too."

"You're disgusting," you spit at him, but your hips push harder into his dick, trying desperately to capture him inside of you and force him to use you.

"No more talking, bitch. Take my fingers." He pushed a hand into your mouth and you started twirling your tongue around them, using your distraction to finally violently thrust his dick all the way inside you. You screamed at the sudden filling, cumming around his cock in an instant, trying to milk him for all he was worth. But he clamped a hand down over your mouth so that all that fell from your face was escaped tears and muffled pleas for more.

"Gonna use you like this baby, gonna make you admit you love me."

His thrusts gained a steady pace as your brain emptied beneath him, desperate for more of the pleasure his body was supplying you with. He released your mouth then, content that all your energy seemed to be spent on pushing your ass back into his, listening to the wet, sloppy sounds of your activity.

"Do you like that, brat? You like me making you feel like this, huh?" He slapped your ass again as he thrust, and you moaned back with a nod.

"Yes, Spencer, don't stop… Don't stop." You moaned again, another orgasm rolling over your body, causing you to clench unconsciously around his cock.

"So good baby, you're responding so well to my cock." He trailed a hand underneath you to your clit and started rubbing it in time to his thrusts.

"One more for me. One more and I'll pull out, okay? Just one more."

"I can't, Spencer I can't do it.." You whined underneath him, face fully buried in the motel pillows. You were surprised he even heard you through the tears as the material.

"Yes you can, baby, look you're so close already, just do one more."

"I hate you," you moaned again, feeling your third and final orgasm wash over you, your eyes rolling back in your head as your body started twitching and didn't stop. You felt a small twitch from him too, as he finished thrusting inside of you, letting a little bit of his cum escape into you before pulling out and decorating your ass with his ejaculation.

He fell by the side of you and gasped desperately for a few minutes, before grabbing a hot wet towel from the bathroom and cleaning your ass off.

"Spencer…" you croak out eventually, regaining some clarity, but still not moving much from your spot in his bed.

"Spencer, I don't hate you."

"I know. I don't hate you either. Which is probably for the best."

"What? Why?"

"Hotch just requested your transfer to the Quantico Office so you could start training with the BAU. You did a good job this week, Y/N." Your eyes started watering again and you gently pushed away tears as he laughed at you, asking why you were crying.

"I'm not happy," you joked.

"I just realized that means I have to work with you more." You both laughed at that. You didn't hate each other exactly, but that didn't mean you could work together well either.

And you didn't want to if this was the outcome of your bickering and hatred.

[matryosika]

Never Have I Ever

Pairing — Chan, Changbin x fem!reader Wordcount — 8,913 words Genre — 18+ Includes — Mentions of body insecurities and past romantic relationships. Struggles with sex and sexuality. Consumption of alcohol (but no sex under the influence). Explicit sexual content, smut warnings under the cut. Author's note — It's been a while since I've post something this lengthy... I have to be honest, I started writing this last year (July 2022) but I felt so unsatisfied with it that I never got to post it. I made some corrections, added some more details and now I'm ready to share it with you! Hope you like it. Please remember to leave a comment, reblog or ask if you liked this. And! This is the yearly reminder that I own a ko-fi. If you wish to support my work further, you can leave me a tip there! The link is on my pinned post. Thank you for reading me.

Smut warnings — Use of pet names (baby and princess). Dirty talk, threesome activities, mutual masturbation, oral sex (m. receiving), double penetration, first time anal, description of pain and crying during sex. Multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, pulling out and facial.

"Never have I ever..." Chan hummed, his right hand swirling the green bottle he had been drinking from for the past minutes, "had sex in a public place".

He looked at you and then at Changbin, his curious gaze wondering how he missed an opportunity to make either of you drink from your alcoholic beverage.

"I haven't had sex in a public place," Changbin mumbled, "but I have done other things".

"You have to drink either way," Chan insisted.

"You said sex," the black-haired complained, "next time try to be more specific".

You sat there in silence with a look of amusement as you witnessed the silly discussion your two best friends were holding.

"There will not be a next time," Chan sighed, leaving his bottle on top of the small coffee table next the shared couch, "at this rate, we are going to be wasted and she will remain sober".

You smiled with victory imprinted on your face, imitating Chan's action and leaving your beverage on top of the table, "we should've betted money on who was the most innocent one among the three of us, I could've ended the night with more bucks than the ones I have on my wallet".

"I can't believe you dated that asshole for 3 years and yet you didn't do anything with him," Changbin murmured with disbelief.

"Do you think I am lying?" You questioned him, tilting your head slightly backwards and resting it on the wall behind.

"I know for a fact you are not," Changbin replied, "that's why I’m impressed".

"Well," you took the bowl of chips that was placed between you and Chan, "sex isn't everything in a relationship."

"You say so because you haven't fucked," Chan scoffed, his characteristic dimples showing as soon as the sound of his laughter escaped his lips.

"We did fuck though".

"You say so because you haven't fucked properly," Changbin corrected his best friend's statement, the choice of words making your skin burn in embarrassment.

"Just because I am not into the kinky stuff you guys like doesn't mean I didn't enjoy the sex with him," you whined, throwing a cushion at Changbin, "plus, why are we making my sexual life a topic of conversation? that's something private".

"It's just amusing," Chan mumbled, taking a sip from the bottle, "you didn't drink from your soju the whole time".

"You guys asked such odd questions," you admitted, "threesomes, sex in public places... how was I supposed to drink when I have no interest in those sorts of things?"

"Alright, alright," Changbin interrupted, both of his arms doing signals for you and chan to be quiet, "we will start small".

You looked at Changbin and then at Chan, unsure of what the twisted game your dark-haired friend was thinking about. Nonetheless, your hand reached out for the bottle of soju and you returned back to your previous position, back against the wall and head tilted slightly backwards.

"Never have I ever given my partner oral sex," Changbin mumbled, both pairs of dark eyes fixed on you as they waited for your final answer.

Placing the tip of the bottle in between your lips, you made sure to drink just a small sip from it. Not being too fond of the taste of alcohol nor the feeling of being drunk, you tried your best to limit your consumption during the evening. Of course, playing this kind of game was rather easy for someone as inexperienced as you were.

"Never have I ever received oral sex," Chan continued the attack, expecting you to hold the bottle again and drink from it.

But, after a few seconds of awkward looks and odd grimaces, he understood that you were not going to take another sip of alcohol.

"Never have I ever tried anal sex," Changbin queried and, again, no response from you. "Well, that one was a bit obvious".

You darted him a killer gaze and he scoffed, looking absolutely unimpressed by your sexual inexperience.

"Never have I ever tried more than 2 different sexual positions with my partner," Chan questioned with a teasing smirk and, for the first time that night, you felt a bit shy at your lack of experience.

It was true that your sexual life wasn't the best, not even with your ex-boyfriend of 3 years, but you wouldn't dare to admit it out loud. For some reason, the thought of having to talk about how much he sucked at those things embarrassed you and, knowing your best friends, they wouldn't be able to forget such a confession.

"No wonder why you broke up with him," Changbin whispered, diverting your attention from Chan's image all the way to his. "Let me guess, missionary and doggy?"

You were not the type to get your cheeks blushed but still, the skin on your face was burning in shame.

"Never have I ever faked an orgasm with my partner," Chan added, capturing your whole attention once again.

You knew Chan and, if you were to take a wild guess, you would say that his countenance changed from amusement to concern. In his face, you could catch a glimpse of almost the same reaction he had when you told him all about your break up and how your boyfriend cheated on you several times before you found out. 

Even though his reaction was rather odd to you, you still took a sip of your bottle, "shit".

"This is way worse than I thought," Changbin sighed, stretching his body and placing both of his hands behind his neck.

"Just one more question and I will let this go," Chan hummed, trying to satisfy his curiosity without making you uncomfortable, "alright?"

You nodded with resignation, "shoot".

"Never have I ever had an orgasm with a partner," and, as soon as you heard those words, you couldn't help but fix your gaze at your shoelaces that were a hundred times more interesting than whatever was going on inside the tiny living room of your apartment.

"Damn," Changbin's harsh voice interrupted, breaking the awkward silence that was starting to fall down upon the three of you, "are you serious?"

"Why would I lie to you about these things?" you asked with a high-pitched voice, your mind bringing back the memories of the few times you got to spend with your ex.

To be completely honest with yourself, you couldn't deny how hideous the sex with him was. It was rushed, fast, boring. He was focused on his pleasure rather than yours, lasting for not more than 5 minutes and calling it a day. "I'm exhausted", "I came so hard", "I'm so sleepy" were just a few of the things he used to mumble right after overcoming his high and, as much as you loved him at the time, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed after each session. He made you feel like an object who was only meant to give him pleasure without receiving any and, for the longest time, you thought it was completely normal.

"You never talked to him about these things?" Changbin questioned you, making your heart sink at the realization that he was just as worried as Chan was about the whole situation.

"It is not a big deal guys," you tried to convince them, even when you knew that it was, in fact, a big deal, "luckily we are not together anymore so I can leave those boring experiences in the past".

"Still," Chan's words felt like he was scolding you, "you went down on him several times and he couldn't even do that for you".

"Yeah, well-" you sighed, standing up from your seat and stretching your whole body, "I will make sure to get a better and trustworthy fuck buddy next time, I have learned my lesson".

Chan and Changbin remained silent as you started to pick up the mess from the living room, gathering the empty bottles of soju and the wrappings of the snacks you had been eating that night.

"Why don't you help me clean up?" you queried, looking down on them while they spared complicit glances at each other, "the living room is a mess and I don't have plans on doing chores tomorrow morning".

"Hey," Changbin hummed, still sitting on the floor with both of his palms against the rug, "we uh-"

The way your dark-haired roommate stumbled upon his words made you curious about what he was going to say next.

"We would like to help you out with your other issue," Chan spitted, bluntly. Still sitting on the couch with his legs spread, he lifted up his gaze to meet yours.

"What other-" you started the sentence with a smile on your face but, as soon as you realized what they meant, the smile and fondness was transformed into nervousness and curiosity, "oh".

"Oh," Changbin repeated almost with the same intonation you did.

"Listen, you don't have to agree to this," Chan rushed to say, standing up from the couch almost as the same time his friend did from the floor, "me and Changbin, we have discussed this for a while now but we just- we never knew how to approach you about it".

You looked at the two men standing in front of you, suddenly feeling your knees and legs ten times weaker than before. For a while, how long is a while?

"When you say a while, what do you mean?" you asked him, slowly placing the empty bottles on top of the table again.

"We both thought you were attractive the first time you moved in with us," Changbin explained, clearing up his throat as he watched you take a seat on the couch again, now they were the ones looking down on you. "Of course, at the time you had a boyfriend and everything, it was never really a plan, just a thought".

"A thought?"

Changbin looked at Chan and then diverted his gaze to something else, trying hard to avoid giving more information than he needed to.

"One night we were just talking about how much we both liked you," Chan spoke slowly, trying to find just the right words to portray their twisted and perverted fantasies with you, "how much we wanted to be with you, like that"..

"And you have decided to tell me that right now because…"

"We just saw an opportunity to bring the topic and we took it," Changbin continued without even daring to make eye-contact with you, "we don't really lose anything by asking".

"A threesome, then?" you queried with your pair of eyes fixed on them. It was new how nervous they looked right then and there in front of you, clenching their jaws and avoiding eye contact at all costs.

Both of them nodded.

"I... will think about it," you concluded shyly, expecting them to say something else rather than nodding and continuing on picking up the trash that you had placed on top of the table after hearing such revelation.

Other than agreeing and whispering a series of "okay, yeah's", your roommates didn't say anything else. The tension in the environment changed but, at the same time, it didn't feel awkward or overwhelming. If you had to describe it, you would dare to say it was almost pensive.

"You have work tomorrow?" Chan asked, interrupting the silence that was quick to build up after your last words.

"No, I am taking this weekend off," you replied, carrying the green bottles all the way to your kitchen counter.

"I'll get those," Changbin mumbled, picking up the bottles that you had left behind because you could only carry that much.

You didn't want to give them the wrong impression, one where you felt awkwardly uncomfortable at their proposal to the point of not wanting to interact with them in any way, but it was almost impossible to talk when your mind was filled with thoughts.

"Everything alright?" Changbin queried, closing the trash bag and leaving it on the floor right next to the trash can.

"Yeah I just- I'm feeling very tired," you replied, blinking several times before fixing your gaze on him, "it has been a while since I drank".

Liar.

You drank less than half a bottle of soju and all three people in that room knew that. 

"You should go to sleep, " the black-haired murmured, not daring to look at you. "We will clean the rest of the living room and continue on working for a bit before going to bed, it's still early".

You unlocked your phone, without having any notion of time, and realized that he was right. You thought it was already midnight but the clock was barely at 10 p.m.

"Thanks," you politely replied, brushing your hands against your denim jeans and standing there for a while before excusing yourself, "goodnight".

As you walked from the kitchen and back to the living room, Changbin's gaze burned on your skin like a fresh cut. He wasn't nervous or uncomfortable, no. He was probably regretful, thinking that the two of them had screwed up an adorable friendship with their best friend just for the sake of wanting to get their dicks wet.

"Goodnight Chan," you mumbled while walking across the living room, Chan's eyes lifting up to meet yours without hesitation.

"Hey," he said, clearing his throat and turning his whole body around to face you, "me and Changbin, we wouldn't want things to get awkward".

"Me neither," you faintly smiled, trying to give him the reassurance he needed in order to understand that you weren't uncomfortable nor scared after their proposal. "I'm alright, don't worry too much about it".

And after he offered you a smile back, you closed your bedroom door right behind you.

Saying you were alright was a lie, especially when your whole body stopped being numb and regained its consciousness. The wetness between your thighs betrayed you once again, just like every other time you were around those two.

"Fuck," you whispered to yourself, closing your eyes and swallowing hard.

Only then, you started to mentally curse yourself. You knew how bad you wanted them, how many nights you spent touching yourself wishing it was one of them making you feel good. You, who even while being in a committed relationship, spent hours and hours daydreaming about any of them bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking you until you couldn't do anything but take them completely.

I will think about it.

There was absolutely nothing to think about and you knew it. What was stopping you then? Trying to act all collected and insightful when, in reality, there was not a single day where you could go without pleasuring yourself to the thought of them.

What is stopping me?

You stood there in silence for a few more minutes until you heard their room's door closing, rushing to grab a towel and a pair of clean clothes before running into the shared bathroom of the apartment. It was safe to say that it had been a long day.

Letting the hot water run and taking every single article of clothing before stepping right into the shower, you asked the same question one more time: what is stopping me?

And, as your eyes found your reflection in the foggy mirror, you understood the answer.

You could dream about them as much as you would like, but the nervousness of being not one but with two new partners scared you to death. 

They proposed to you. 

The idea was appealing, but the anguish that it represented was too strong to be fought in such a small period of time. You trusted them with your life, you really did, but you also knew them more than anyone else in the whole world. You knew what kind of girls they dated and what kind of things they did. You were nowhere near those qualifications and the fact that they even brought that idea was as flattering as it was confusing. 

Either way, the mere thought of knowing they desired you like that made you wonder what kind of perverted ideas they thought about whenever they saw you around. What did they see in you that you failed to appreciate?

*

Standing in front of their bedroom's door, you breathed three times before finding the courage to knock on it. The clock would strike 12 a.m. and you knew for sure they were still awake. That excited you as much as it scared you.

The door opened before you could knock again, unsure if they had heard the first pair of faint knocks. Just as you had predicted, both of them were still working on some of their projects.

"Everything alright, princess?" Changbin queried, his dark eyes scanning your figure with discretion. 

Princess. Changbin called you like that sometimes for as long as you could remember and it never failed to have the desired effect on you.

Wearing a black oversized shirt with nothing underneath but a pair of pink panties, it struck you only then that maybe you had executed your idea wrong. In your mind, you completely missed the part of the small chat before telling them your verdict about the proposal.

"Can I come in?" you asked, his body walking just a few steps back as he opened the door for you.

Chan turned around on his chair, welcoming himself with the sight of your body.

"I thought about it," you murmured shyly, sitting on the edge of Chan's bed before daring to look at the hungry gazes of your best friends, "and I want it".

"Hey," Chan rushed to call out your name, his parted lips inhaling more air than usual, "don't feel pressured to do it, if you decide not to I promise things are still going to be the same".

"I mean it," you assured him, "I just- I have a condition".

The three of you looked at each other for a couple of seconds in silence.

"Go on," Chan spoke, his whole body leaning forward.

“You said you often thought about me in that way".

"We do, yeah," one of them voiced but the two of them nodded, eager to hear the rest of your demand.

"I-" for a short moment, your breath got caught up in your throat and you wondered if the sudden courage and bravery were sponsored by the cheap alcohol or your undeniable arousal, "I want to know what you think about me".

Changbin looked at Chan and then at you, his body language changing drastically from relaxed to tense in a matter of seconds.

"Is that what you really want?" He queried. His voice was as seductive as it was intimidating, his question seeming more like a warning than an invitation. 

You simply nodded.

"I know nothing about this," you murmured, the warmth on your skin spreading throughout your body as Chan's and Changbin's gaze fixed on your eyes, "and you two are the most trustworthy men I know".

"So you want us to teach you?" Chan asked with a soft scoff, the lowness of his voice taking you by surprise.

"I just want to understand what is so appealing about sex to other people," you admitted, shrugging your shoulders and tilting your head, "I just want to know how much I have missed".

Chan couldn't help but smile with fondness at your words, the warmth in his chest mixing up with the warmth between his legs. It wasn't just the fact that you trusted them enough to give your body to the two of them —it was the knowledge that, now that you had accepted their plea, they had the opportunity to make you feel like no one before.

Changbin walked up to your figure, the mattress slightly sinking as he took a seat right next to you. Whether it was out of nervousness or pure excitement, you couldn't help but shudder once the fabric of his black shorts brushed against the naked skin of your thighs.

"Don't be afraid," he cooed, his right hand moving upwards to find the left side of your face and turning it towards him, "you trust us, right?”

Your eyes met the curvature of his lips and, while his face approached you softly, you melted into his hands. The way his breath was stupidly close to be felt and his hand burned deliciously against your skin had you letting out a soft sigh before making the desired contact with him.

And it felt just like you had imagined it. Even better, you would dare to say.

Alcohol, a pinch of cherries and faint cigarette smoke were how you would describe his taste. He was gentle, maybe more gentle than you had expected him to be. His tongue dragged across your lips without going any further, teasing you and almost making you beg for more. He wasn't running out of breath but you were, letting out small whines while you tugged at the neck of his black t-shirt.

Only then, he interrupted the kiss by sinking his teeth on your lower lip and softly pulling at them, earning a sweet hiss from you.

"Should I go next?" Chan softly joked as he stood up from his seat, walking towards the available space of bed right next to you and sliding his hand up your naked thigh. Your parted lips found him immediately, but he remained in his position without going in for a kiss. "But first, you have to promise us something."

"Anything," you whispered out of breath, both men smiling proudly at how eager you were to have your way with them. 

"If you don't feel comfortable with something, you have to tell us," Chan warned, his eyes glued to the way your lips were inviting him to devour them.

Easy task. You nodded almost automatically, knowing that the odds of wanting them to stop were minimum to zero.

"Contrary to that, if there's something that you want, you will have to beg for it", he cooed, a faint smirk appearing on the corner of his lips as he saw the nervousness in your face, "promise?"

You let out a jittery laugh, feeling your accelerated heartbeats in the deepest parts of your throat, "it's embarrassing".

"It is not," Changbin intervened, his breath caressing the crook of your neck and making your eyes close for a quick second, "we will do anything you ask us to”.

"What do you get from it?" you questioned softly, your mind dizzy from both confusion and arousal.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" Chan asked, tilting his head and brushing your lips with his, completely ignoring your question. 

"Yes," you whispered, your heartbeats going at a mile per hour. Chan smiled against your lips without going any further, trying to give you the clue that you were not following one of his rules, "please Chan, kiss me".

Only then you felt his hand wrapping around your wrist, guiding it towards his lap. He soon placed it on top of his hardened bulge without a warning, his hips moving ever so slightly against the palm of your hand. "Do you see what you can cause if you beg nicely for us?" his hoarse voice inquired and you nodded almost automatically, both of your eyes probably opened like plates at his grittiness, “good”. 

He then gave you what you were wishing for so long, his plump lips moving against yours at a much slower pace than you had expected from him. It was almost as if he wanted to taste every inch of your lips that were mixed with your own taste and Changbin's. 

Unexpectedly, Changbin's hand caressed the skin on your thighs making you tremble against their bodies, Chan's lips drowning one of many pathetic whines that were urging to leave your mouth. Changbin dragged his touch further, lifting the fabric of your oversized t-shirt and finding the pleasant surprise of your pink, laced panties.

"You wore this for us?" he asked against your ear, the sound of his voice and breathing sending shivers down your spine, "you should've thought about it twice because i'm going to rip it off of you”. 

Another chill traveled throughout your body and your skin got covered in goosebumps, an action that didn't go unnoticed by the black-haired one. "You get turned on by words easily," he hummed, nibbling at the skin of your neck, "I'll remember that".

Chan broke the kiss to grasp for some air, the eyes that once looked at you with fondness were now completely clouded by nothing but lust. 

Changbin continued on kissing and biting your neck, that only contributed to the wet patch between your legs becoming way noticeable as Chan's fingertips threatened to make contact with your underwear, the fear of being exposed making you dwell in embarrassment.

"Now, tell us," Chan requested while his fingers reached for the skin of your inner thighs, "why did you change your mind?"

"I-" you tried to give an answer but Changbin's lips attached to your neck and Chan's touch lingering in between your legs were making the simple task feel ten times harder, "I was curious".

"That’s it?" Changbin asked, dragging his tongue along your skin and making you squirm under him, "I know there's something you are not telling us, princess".

And he was right. 

But how were you supposed to tell them that, even long before knowing that they were sexually attracted to you, you fantasized about them every single night?

Even when you were in a relationship.

"I like you two too," you mumbled in between sighs, fearing that Chan's playful smirk meant that he knew exactly what was going on in your perverted mind, "I thought about you as well".

"And what is it that you thought?" Chan questioned, his digits making the desired contact against your clothed core making you part your legs ever so slightly for them, "you can tell us, we know how to keep secrets". Even though the sentence was rather sweet, the hidden meaning behind it increased the tension on your lower abdomen, "after all, we are your best friends, right?".

"I thought about how good you two could make me feel," you whispered, Changbin's figure withdrawing from your neck and fixing your gaze on the masterpieces he had created on it, your skin now decorated with red bruises along it, "I thought about your fingers, often".

Changbin let out a soft laugh, the tip of his digits dragging along your t-shirt and clothed breasts only to end up brushing his thumb against your mouth, "show me how much you have thought about them, then".

With a curious look, you wrapped your lips around his digits without breaking eye contact. You sucked on them slowly, unsure if that was the action he was expecting from you. But, when he let out a soft groan, you understood that you were on the right path.

"Is this what you dreamt about, princess?" he questioned, pushing his fingers deep inside you as you nodded eagerly.

While you were too focused on Changbin's task, you didn't notice how Chan was lifting up your t-shirt to expose more of your thighs and underwear, the wet patch now becoming completely visible for him. He gently caressed your lower abdomen and made its way to your clothed slit, dragging one finger in circular motions and earning a sudden sigh out of you that was repressed by Changbin's digits.

"What was that, baby?" Chan scoffed, impressed by how sensitive you were.

Changbin took his fingers out of your mouth as Chan slid your panties to the side, licking his lips at the sight of how wet you were.

For a moment, you felt shy. Exposed. 

You wanted to close your legs and tell them that you didn't think the whole thing through but Chan's voice was what took you out of those intrusive thoughts.

"You are beautiful," he hummed, his heavy breathing ringing into your ears, "so fucking pretty".

You swallowed hard at his compliments, the skin on your whole body heating up in shyness as you got used to your best friends praising you in that way. 

Changbin's digits turned your chin to face him, placing his index and middle fingers in front of your lips as a mischievous smile appeared on his face.

"Tell Chan how bad you need him to touch you," he ordered, his eyes fixed on the way your lips parted almost instinctively as he brushed them against your lips.

"Chan-" you tried to speak, but your breath got caught up in your throat too soon, "please-".

"Tell him exactly what you want," the dark-haired spoke again. 

Your gaze turned to Chan who was sitting on the opposite side as Changbin, his fingers swirling around the skin of your thighs without actually making contact where you needed him the most.

"Will you touch me, Chan?" you queried, the way your eyes looked at him sending a pinch of electricity to his already hardened erection, "please".

He smiled at your words and, almost immediately, followed your request. Your whole body trembled against them due to the unfamiliar feeling of having someone else other than you touching you like that.

"What else does our princess need?" Changbin cooed, forcing you to face him once again.

"Your fingers," you sighed, trying hard to maintain eye contact as Chan rubbed your clit painfully slowly, "can I please suck on them?".

It was the way you politely asked and not really begged that had them over the edge. It sounded filthier, more humiliating, they would say.

Changbin pushed both of his fingers inside your mouth and, as he pounded them deeper, a loud moan from you that was caught around his digits sent waves of pleasure throughout the whole body.

"Suck them properly," he commanded, admiring how your head acquired a pace of its own as you gag on them, "I’m fucking your pretty pussy with them".

Chan's digits kept on teasing your clit, your hips instinctively moving against them while you tried to intensify the feeling.

"Right there, princess," he cooed, smiling at how your body was more than ready to be fucked, "you are behaving so well".

Changbin's fingers went in deeper, making you gag and drool all over them. Judged by the way he was watching you, you would dare to say that he loved it. He loved how messy you looked, with your innocent gaze fixed on him and your chin completely covered with your own saliva.

"Baby," Chan hummed, leaving kisses on your shoulders and clavicles while he made your way to your ear, "do you think you are ready to take our fingers?"

Pulling away from Changbin's digits you nodded eagerly, the sinful scene of your teary eyes and drooling mouth was enough for the both of them to cum right then and there, completely in love by the ruined image of their beautiful best friend.

"I need them inside me," you whispered, "please fuck them inside me".

Changbin lost no time into guiding his hand all over your wet cunt, the digits that were previously fucking your mouth now grazing against your hole and threatening to force themselves into it.

"Are you always this wet when you think of us?" Chan queried, looking at how his bedsheets were now stained with your own juices.

"I am," you admitted, placing your head on his chest while he held you tight against him, "I am always so wet".

Changbin pushed both of his fingers inside you knowing that, with how wet you were and how good you had lubricated his fingers, the feeling was going to be everything but painful.

"Fuck-" you hissed, moving your hips unexpectedly and feeling that foreign tension on your lower back, "God-".

"Do you want to know a secret?" Chan asked, admiring your face of pure bliss as Changbin's fingers fucked your cunt and his palm rubbed against your swollen clit. You weakly nodded. "We often talked about you, me and him," he sighed, "we wondered how many times you had been walking around the apartment with your underwear drenched or how many times you had touched yourself in your room while we were sleeping".

"She is dripping wet," Changbin hummed, his lips approaching one of your ears, "I bet it would be so easy to just bend her over any surface of the apartment and put our cocks inside her pretty pussy, don't you think so?"

"Fuck yes," you whined, your vision getting clouded with each of Changbin's movements, “it would be so easy for you two to have me whenever you please".

"Only for us?" Chan scoffed, your words having the desired effect on him as his bulge grew harder and harder, "you are adorable".

Both of your hands traveled to their laps, your right one on Changbin's and your left one on Chan's. Shyly, you started palming them through their clothes, earning a faint laugh from Changbin who was still working on your cunt.

"Tell us what you want, princess," he cooed, "we might give you permission if you use your words." 

As soon as you were about to speak, Chan's digits replaced Changbin's palm and continued on rubbing your clit while the dark-haired fucked you at a rougher pace, the soft moans becoming louder and louder as the seconds passed by.

"Please, let me touch you," you whined, moving frantically against their hands, "I want to touch you too".

"Go on," he allowed, his voice becoming lower as your timid hands palmed him through the thin fabric of his shorts.

And without losing any more time, you snuck your hands under their clothes, being welcomed by the warmth of their skins as your hands wrapped around their lengths.

However, you were rather impressed by what you found underneath those clothes.

"Don't be scared," Chan murmured as he noticed your countenance, "we will make them fit”. 

You cursed again at his words, the tension on your lower back increasing as well as the frantic movements of your hands around them.

They couldn't help themselves but let out small grunts and sighs as you jerked them off, pulling down their clothes to give you even more access to their cocks.

Moving your hands up and down, the movements soon started to become sloppier and messier, your eyes started to roll to the back of your head and incoherent words and mumbles were escaping your lips as an unfamiliar feeling took control over you.

"You are clenching so fucking hard around me," Changbin groaned, increasing the pace of his digits, "does that feel good, princess?"

"Fuck yes," you sighed, the overwhelming feeling causing tears to prick into the corner of your eyes, "don't stop, don't stop, don't stop".

"You look so pretty like this," Chan praised, his hot breath tickling against your cheek, "all desperate and needy".

"Faster," you cried, moving your hips in circular motions against them, "please touch me faster".

And as good, compassionate best friends they were, the two of them followed your pleas. You knew that it wasn't going to take you long to reach your climax and, with all honesty, you could say that this was something you had never experienced before.

Maybe because of it you looked too desperate and eager in front of them, moving your hips frantically and trembling between their bodies as you reached your high.

The sight was something they would never forget, feeling the way your hand squeezed their cocks with roughnes as you cried and rode your orgasm. 

"Aren't you such a dirty princess?" Changbin groaned, still fucking you at the same pace just when you were reaching the highest point of your climax and forcing both of your legs open, "coming for the first time in no other than your best friend's bed".

"Oh, God," you cried, biting your lower lip while your body was still shaking.

"Don't close them just yet, baby" Chan mumbled, his digits collecting all of your juices while he held you in place, "don't you want to taste yourself?"

You whined at the faint overstimulation from Chan's digits dragging along your slit, getting completely coated by your arousal. They made their way to your lips and you were quick to clean them up completely, bopping your head and drooling all over them.

Soon, the weight on the bed from your right side shifted as Changbin's figure stood up from his seat. Lowering his shorts and underwear completely, his cock was now at full disposal to you.

And God, was he big.

"Come here," he demanded, signaling for you to kneel right in front of him, "show me what you've thought about me”. 

You had given blowjobs before, countless times, but your ex boyfriend was nowhere near to what you had in front of you. Your mind drifted away as it thought about his thick girth filling you up, making you cry both in pain and pleasure but, soon, those trails of thoughts were interrupted when Chan's figure came into the picture.

"We will be gentle," Chan hissed, placing his hand on the back of your head and guiding you all the way to his hardened length, 

Starting off with kitty licks, you dragged your tongue along the tip of Chan's cock. He let out a soft moan that only encouraged you to explore further, taking the head inside of your warm mouth as your hand reached out for Changbin's length.

"Jerk him off while I fuck your mouth, do you think you can do that?" you nodded against his cock, "if I get too rough, squeeze my thigh and I will stop".

You nodded once again, feeling how his hands pushed you deeper into his length. You were not really trained to take him, but you were determined to prove to them that you deserved to be fucked.

"All the way in," he hissed, hearing how you struggled to prevent yourself from gagging, "don't hold back, baby, let me hear you choking on my cock".

Relaxing your throat for a bit, you were able to take more of him. Squeezing Changbin's cock everytime Chan's length reached a deeper spot inside your mouth, he couldn't stop himself from letting out grunts and groans each time.

"My turn," Changbin hissed, one of his hands gripping your hair in a ponytail and guiding your face towards his length. With drool all over your chin, and letting out small coughs, you took Changbin's cock inside as if you were an expert on it. Now, your opposite hand reached out for Chan's length as you stroked himself with your own saliva.

"You are doing a great job," Changbin praised, closing his eyes and slamming his hips slowly against your mouth, "taking two cocks at the same time".

From then on, you started acquiring a pace of your own while sucking them off. Having one of their cocks inside of your mouth while stroking the other one, you spent all the time you were able to before your knees started to hurt and bruise due to the material of the rug.

And even then, you didn't want to stop.

The sound of their groans and moans were turning you on more than you would've thought, your available hand always rubbing against your clit as much as you could, driving you to the edge and tightening the now familiar knot on your lower abdomen.

"You have no idea how many times we fantasized about having you like this," Chan groaned, caressing your hair as he slammed his cock inside your mouth, "kneeling down in front of us with your mouth drooling and wanting to take our cocks completely". 

"She is so pretty," Changbin praised, biting his lower lip as he witnessed the scene of your teary eyes and ruined face alternating between his cock and Chan's, "I wonder how much prettier she will look with all of her holes filled".

A sudden moan escaped your lips as you heard those words. Of course you knew that having sex with more than one partner was a whole different world than what you were used to, but you never got to think about the implications of it.

"Is that what you want?" Chan questioned, his eyes fixed on the way Changbin's cock disappeared in your mouth, "do you want me to fuck your pussy while he fucks your ass?"

You would be lying if you said that the idea of doing so didn't turn you on.

"It is too soon to try anal," Changbin grunted, letting out a desperate sigh as soon as you withdrew from him to take Chan's cock, "she is not ready for it".

"You think so?" the brown-haired queried, burying himself inside your warm mouth, "I am sure she can take it".

Changbin gave him a worried look, but he wasn't going to deny the fact that he was dying to fuck you from behind. He knew how tight your cunt was from earlier, when he was fucking his fingers inside of you, and he could only imagine how much tighter your ass was.

Luckily for the both of you, he always kept a bottle of lube around for those kinds of rendezvous. 

Walking towards the small nightstand right next to his bed, he took out a black, small bottle that caught your whole attention as you awaited on your knees for him.

"I am going to ask you this once," he softly mumbled, caressing your hair and putting a strand of it behind your ear. "Do you really want to try this?"

You knew it was going to be painful but knowing it was them who were causing you pain only turned you even more.

"If you decide that you suddenly don't want it anymore, we will stop," Chan warned.

You stood up from the floor and walked towards the bed, removing your black t-shirt that was now ruined with drool, tears and even precum.

Chan laid down on his own bed with his hardened length inviting you to straddle over him, softly guiding your movements on the bed as he held your hand. You sat down on his lap and allowed him to continue with the task, one of his hands reaching down for the base of his cock to align it with your entrance.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked you with his jaw clenched, dragging the tip of his cock along your slit and earning a few sighs from the both of you. You simply nodded. "It's going to hurt, but I know you can take him".

You stared at Chan for what it felt like hours, and only regained consciousness of the place and position you were in once you felt the weight of the bed shifting as Changbin positioned himself right behind you, resting one of his hands on your hip while the other one held the bottle of lube.

"I think she is ready," Changbin announced and Chan lost no time in entering you, lifting his hips ever so slightly while burying the tip of his cock inside your tight cunt.

"Oh, Go-d," you breathed, leaning down on his figure while you placed both of your arms on each side of his head.

"Take me all the way in," Chan mumbled, pressing your figure down so that his cock could reach the deepest spots in you.

And even though you weren't a virgin, you had never felt such an overwhelming sentiment like this. He was bigger than what you were used to and he tried to do it delicately but awfully failed as he surrendered to his instincts, pounding himself inside you rather harshly for a beginner but just as pleasant. 

They both gave you a few minutes to get used to Chan's girth, squeezing it and clenching around it every time Changbin caressed your back and neck in an attempt to soothe you before the pain.

"She is so fucking tight around me," Chan hissed with gritted teeth, completely losing his mind over how wet and warm your pussy felt around him.

Just like he imagined it.

"How does it feel to have Chan stretching you open?" Changbin asks softly, placing a couple of wet pecks on your shoulders and neck while he lazily stroked himself with a fair amount of lube.

"It feels good," you admitted with shortness of breath, feeling dizzy on top of Chan. "I've never felt something like this before".

There was something so filthy about hearing you speak in such a manner that Changbin couldn't resist you anymore. You soon felt the palm of his hand on your lower back, pushing your body, forcing it to lean over Chan's and —once he caught the signal— wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly in place.

"Take a deep breath for me," Changbin ordered, getting even harder at the cold sensation of the lube as he poured more on him and your tightest hole. "We are going to count to three, yeah?"

Changbin always appeared to be someone tough but, it was at times like these, where you truly could appreciate such a soft side from him.

"One," he breathed and you felt Chan's arms tightening around you, his face buried on your neck and chest while he felt your body shuddering on top of his.

"Two," Changbin continued and your back unconsciously arched a bit more for him. "And three".

After the last number, you felt a numbing sensation throughout your body. Your toes curled up in pain and you tried hard to muffle the pathetic cries and whimpers but failed almost immediately.

"It hurts so much," you cried and Chan started to caress your back, feeling his heart pounding at a thousand miles per hour as he witnessed your vulnerable body on top of his.

"We know you can take us," Changbin hissed, softly pushing himself even deeper inside you. "All you have to do is get used to our cocks".

You whined and Chan hugged you even tighter, allowing you to cry over him as Changbin stretched your ass carefully. There was something so twisted about feeling your painful tears landing on his neck and chest that, for an unknown reason, riled him up even more.

"Don't move," Changbin ordered and you did as you were told, your hands gripping the bed sheets harshly while you tried your best to overcome the painful –but pleasant– feeling of having them both inside you. "I want to feel you".

Chan's hands traveled from your waist to your back, caressing it while trying to soothe the pain. You spent a good minute or two with your eyes closed, the only audible thing in the room were your cries and their heavy breathing.

"You think you are ready?" Chan asks you softly, leaving soft kisses on your breasts while still having his arms wrapped around your body.

"I think I am," you finally whispered after a few silent seconds, feeling your arms trembling in fear while still being able to hold your whole weight on top of Chan.

Changbin was the first one to move, slowly withdrawing himself from you only to thrust his cock again, making you cry in pain.

"You are doing such a good job," Chan praised, one of his hands reaching out to try the tears that were streaming down your cheeks. "It's just a little bit of pain, I am sure you can take it".

Changbin continued training you, softly pushing his cock inside you while trying to get you used to his girth. The pain never really went away, but the sudden sentiment of pleasure was quick to appear in the equation and, with that, it was ten times more bearable.

"Go on," Changbin hissed, trying his best to control himself. "She can take you now".

Chan lifted his hips slightly and almost came when he saw your grimaces of pleasure and pain, his cock throbbing at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows and teary eyes getting completely lost.

"Am I hurting you?" Chan asked you and you weakly shook your head, unable to focus on him —or anything, for that matter— because of the overwhelming sensations.

And as soon as they were sure you were alright, they started to acquire a pace of their own. They were going slow, much more slower than they would prefer, but it was still pleasant nonetheless.

Chan's lips captured your hardened nipples and, if anything, that single action made everything way more enjoyable. The cries and whines were soon replaced with moans and whimpers, and the gentle movements lost their softness once they both felt you were ready for a bit more.

"I don't think I am going to last long," Chan admitted between sighs, feeling his cock throbbing inside you.

Changbin was on the same page, but they both wanted to give you one more orgasm before their own. One of his hands traveled to your swollen clit and, while they both fucked your holes, he tried to mantain a steady pace while rubbing it.

"Oh my f- God," you moaned, both of your eyes opening like plates once you felt your body jolting at Changbin's touch. "It feels-".

You couldn't describe it, but they both knew what you meant by the way your holes clenched around them.

"You are dripping wet," Changbin whispered, coating his digits with your fluids while trying his best to get you to the promising orgasm. "You think you can come one more time for us?"

You didn't have time to reply when your eyes were already rolling at the back of your head and your arms started to tremble, threatening to lose any strength that was still left in them.

"God," you whispered again, parting your lips and looking like a complete mess for the both of them. "There, right there-".

Changbin increased his pace and it was only a matter of seconds before Chan started to feel your walls tightening around him almost aggressively. He closed his eyes and groaned under his breath, trying his best not to come just yet.

He wasn't wearing a condom and coming inside was definitely not an option —but God, how he wished it was.

"Just like that," Changbin praised while admiring your body shaking instinctively, his hips slamming against yours softly while you were still trying to overcome your high.

"You are making me lose my mind," Chan whispered as he saw your face, feeling completely vulnerable at the sight of your glossy eyes and parted lips. "It isn't fair to have you around and not be able to do this as much as I want".

Your arms lost all their strength and you inevitably fell on top of Chan's body, crying as you felt the overstimulation washing up on you.

"I'm not going to last long either," Changbin hissed and, with a swift movement, pulled out of you. You whined at the sentiment of emptiness, but it was also a relief.

Chan lifted your hips too and followed his best friend's actions, leaving you completely empty and a sobbing mess.

"Where do you want us?" Chan asked, caressing your cheek and pushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"Wherever you both want to," you replied with shortness of breath and feeling a bit dizzy.

Of course they both wanted to finish inside you, but it was definitely not a good idea.

At least not tonight.

So Chan looked at Changbin and he did the same, almost as if they didn't need words to communicate with each other.

"Get on your knees," Changbin ordered and Chan smiled, recalling one of those times where they talked about how pretty you were and how much each fantasized about coming on your face.

She would look even prettier, Chan had said.

You followed their instructions and kneeled in front of Chan's bed, patiently waiting for them to approach your figure.

They both stood in front of you, stroking their cocks with their gazes fixed on your face. Changbin's hand even gripped your hair a bit harshly, setting you closer to them and in place so they could finish on your face.

"Stick your tongue out, baby," Chan panted, increasing the movement of his wrist on his cock.

You soon felt his arousal landing on your cheek, tongue and chin while a series of curses and groans left his lips. Changbin, once he saw the filthy image of you covered in his friend's semen, came next. With him, it was way more messier: tongue, chin, lips, cheek and forehead.

You swallowed their cum proudly, feeling as if it was some sort of reward for being able to take all the things they had chosen to give you that night. And they both admired the scene in awe, feeling their softening cocks twitching at the sight.

"You both taste good," you murmured, still kneeling in front of them. "I never thought I would like it".

Chan caressed your hair softly while Changbin's digits lifted your chin just so they could both catch a better glimpse of your face covered in cum —one of their biggest fantasies.

"Perhaps we should play the game again," Changbin mumbled, collecting some of their semen with his thumb only to push it inside your parted lips. "And see if your bottle of soju is still full after we are done".