#semi corrupted form

[muntitled]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧

→ Mingyu x Fem!reader

→ Summary: "If you wanted me to get you pregnant so bad, all you had to was ask."

→ Warnings: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Businessman au, Humour, Slight!Body Dysmorphia, Insecurities, Workaholic!Reader, Shy!Reader, Slight Male Manipulation, Slight!Angst, Smut (+18), Semi!Public Sex, Slight Coercion, Needy!Mingyu, He Whimpers, Pervy!Mingyu, Corruption Kink, Desperate Sex, Massive Breeding kink, Mingyu has a choking kink, and a Praise kink, Slight!Daddy Kink, Unprotected Sex

Mingyu likes getting choked, pls argue with the wall

The dollop of heat in your stomach steadily grew into a pool of molten lava throughout the duration of the award ceremony. The entire televised event was supposed to be in celebration of your husband and the diligence he has extended to the company for all of 2 decades.

Instead, most of the evening is spent nursing your anxiety with a flute of champagne, while you attempt to not sweat through your very expensive makeup under the heat of multiple strobe lights.

Mingyu, sitting at the table beside you serves as your only anchor, keeping your feet planted firmly to the ground while the rest of the table exchange pleasantries involving baby pictures and ultrasounds.

The dread in your stomach only multiplies.

You've been made privy to how they speak about you and your husband behind gloved hands in hushed whispers. A husband who has had to be burdened with a wife whose internal clock was no match for the importance of a career. Perhaps they thought you were too self important and too driven. Perhaps that explains why you were always invited to events out of courtesy and never out of true interest. Perhaps-

"Stop that." Mingyu's voice travels to your ear at a low and conspiratorial baritone while the rest of wives and husband at the table talk animatedly.

"Stop what?" You ask while Mingyu draws your attention to his hand now resting on your thigh underneath the table.

"Don't play with me. I can tell when you're overthinking," He says, letting his palm brush over the sequins of your pitch black dress. It matched his all black suit to rude perfection, truly making you believe you were the best dressed couple in the whole event. "If you're gonna be thinking about something, I'd rather it be the likelihood of me eating you out in this dress after we're done."

His words succeed in dragging your thoughts away from the happy couples and their happy families and you meet his eyes and the amusement swimming within them.

"Is sex really all you think about-"

Mingyu answers your question by suddenly grabbing a hold of your hand and forcing your palm over his lap until your palm is lightly grazing the bulge forming there.

"Let's hope this ends soon so we can get the fuck out of here." The rest of the event was spent with you, staring down at the table in a mindless, lustful daze while Mingyu still guided your palm up and down the bulge in his pants. It was conspicuous enough for it to look like his hand was simply resting atop yours, if anyone really got particularly nosy. Luckily, everyone else was too drunk on overpriced soju to recognize Mingyu's forced self pleasuring while he took casual little sips from his glass intermittently.

You were both relieved once it was time to go home.

This inability to adapt into the upper echelons of housewife society had not bothered you initially and it certainly did not bother your husband. In fact, someone as aloof and optimistic as Mingyu was seldom concerned with the matters of holding face for a backwards capitalistic society.

"If we weren't rich I thoroughly believe we would be those 'eat the rich' people." Mingyu announces as he trails into the bathroom behind you. The overhead lights bathe the bathroom's onyx accents in a dim light, successfully relaxing you and easing the bundle of knots that had built up in your shoulders.

Mingyu seems equally pleased to be back home, kicking off his Abercrombie loafers and watching them fly into a corner while he undoes the buttons of his jet black dress shirt. His tall frame is hunched over as he wraps his arms around your stomach, allowing you to lead him to the bathroom sinks with heavy footsteps like a 187 centimetre baby.

You, of course, do not object when he pushes his head into the space between your neck and shoulder as you begin to brush your teeth. If the award ceremony was as draining for him as it was for you, then this truly is the first moment he is able to let himself go the entire day.

"I think we can still be those 'eat the rich' people because it's not like we're rich by choice, right?" Seeing your husband constantly run the risk of impending communism would be amusing, were it not for the sour taste still present in your mouth from the work event Mingyu had just taken you too.

"At least you got to watch me in my element-" He grumbles against your skin before begrudgingly peeling himself off of you to make his way to his side of the bathroom,

"Ugh," Mingyu groans with exaggeration as he commences with his skin care, "You literally got to watch your sexy and talented husband accept a corporate award in a room full of people. I'm so jealous of you,"

"Ugh, I know!" You nod back, "Jihoon looked so good on that podium. Remind me to send him a message later." You evade Mingyu's deadpan look through the oval shaped mirror as you continue to brush.

"On a serious note, Gyu, I'm glad you had fun while I was being forced to entertain those industry housewives." You momentarily stop your brushing, "I'm thoroughly overwhelmed by ultrasounds!" You exclaim frustratedly through a gurgle of toothpaste. The very thought of those women shot your blood pressure to hell.

Their idealistic lives and their idealistic vaginas that could somehow push out a steady stream of babies before snapping back as if nothing ever happened. Business as usual.

Meanwhile, your body threw a tantrum the very second you even had a vague thought of eating something outside the bounds of your diet.

Mingyu adored every part of you - you know this - but that nauseating feeling of inadequacy always crept up on you in moments of weakness.

You sigh, "I think those women have magical vaginas."

"Hey." Mingyu says, patting down his face, "All women have magical vaginas but you especially."

You swiftly ignore him and continue your furious brushing as you say, "Every single day it's 'This one is pregnant!' 'This one wants to get pregnant,' 'This one is trying to get pregnant!'" You rant, completely oblivious to the way Mingyu watches you through the mirror as you continue.

"'I'm not quite sure when it became socially accessible for couples to just air out their breeding kinks to the public-" an ungentlemanly snort escapes through Mingyu's mouth and he pauses to shake his head and compose himself.

"I'm ultra-sounded out!" You exclaim, finally bending over to spit out a wad of toothpaste. In your periphery, Mingyu watches you with that passive look of contentment and unwavering adoration that almost never seems to leave his face in your presence.

Despite his overly humorous tendencies at times, Mingyu also harboured the habit of reading in between the lines - he had to, not only for his job but for his romantic life as well. Being blessed with a shy partner meant Mingyu had to dig just a little deeper past the veneer of everything you say, to get just a little closer to what you actually meant.

Your shyness and stoicism is what initially drew him to you in the first place. Always beating around the proverbial bush to protect your most sacred dignity and independence. It was always a struggle for Mingyu but it turned him on way too easily to picture his put-together, independent little wife needing him in a way she might not even know.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask quietly, lifting your head before reigning your braids into a ponytail.

"How am I looking at you?" Mingyu asks in a voice way too husky to harbour any sense of professionalism.

"Are you seriously turned on right now?" There is no use in denying it because Mingyu knew you could read him like an open book. There's a soberness that hits him when he's turned on.

He jokes less than usual and assumes a more… slutty disposition that neither him nor you have ever been able to tame. Mingyu rubs the excess cream into his hands before leaning against the marble countertops. He watches you with a small, dangerous smirk that sends a flurry of butterflies swimming the pits of your stomach.

"If you wanted me to get you pregnant so badly, all you had to do was ask." His sentence bulldozes through the silence, steals the air right out of your lungs and nearly sweeps your feet out from underneath you. The world practically spins for a second but you grapple desperately onto your sensibilities for your sensibilities are one of the very few things you can arm yourself against your husband's slutty seduction.

"I think I could've squeezed you into my busy schedule," He chuckles lightly before stepping forward.

Almost automatically you step backwards, which evidently gets Mingyu way too excited. He raises his eyebrows with a slight before he's closing the distance between the two of you with 2 wide strides.

The light pouring down from the ceiling suddenly feels too warm, and the air feels like you've teleported to a crowded bazaar in the centre of the desert. You refuse to make eye contact with Mingyu, looming over you. You only splay a hand against his chest as you attempt to chuckle.

"You're being ridiculous." You say, "If you need to cum so bad, use your hand."

"Nah," He shakes his head without ever breaking eye contact, "That would be a waste, wouldn't it?" Mingyu's eyes frantically search your features for the same traces of lust so shamelessly displayed across his own visage. His lips are parted with his quiet breathing. "Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

It felt like a betrayal on everything you held dear, admitting that the idea of him cumming inside you with the purpose of getting you pregnant turned you on. It felt like a betrayal on your career and your goals and aspirations.

However, Mingyu's sensibilities are completely clouded by unshakeable lust. He is so easily stimulated by every single thing about you, the softness of your body, the familiarity of your scent and the mental image of seeing you actually pregnant with his child. It has him pushing you further against the bathroom wall until the coolness of the stone sank steadily through your night dress.

Mingyu's hand immediately rips the offending article of clothing, pushing your night dress up slowly and feeling his own cock ache at how you silently comply.

"It's really easy, baby. I just need you to tell me you want me to cum in that little pussy of yours and I'll do it. Just wanna…" Mingyu's incoherence during states of exceptional lust always succeeded in making you absolutely wet. He became an insatiable, talkative and blubbering mess.

"...Just wanna make you happy," His breathing picks up almost as easily as yours, and inside himself, Mingyu releases a shotgun prayer that you want this just as bad as he does. He hopes your mind has been flooded with the exact same fantasies of him, sliding his bare cock into your soaking cunt. Him ramming into you and finishing inside of you and-

"Ah- fuck," He hisses, unable to get your panties down all the way before he's letting his fingers drift across your slippery folds. "Look at how wet you are, baby. You really do want me to cum inside your pretty little pussy, don't you?"

Mingyu's cock twitches uncomfortably in his pants while he drifts his fingers over your puffy clit, pulling a strangled moan from your throat.

"Feels good, baby?" He whimpers before slotting his hips between your legs. Mingyu's breath is warm against the side of your face as he continues to rub infuriating circles on your clit. "I can make you feel even better baby… if you let me fuck you, I can make us both feel good, yeah?" He's a whining mess - you both are as your hips move in tandem against his hands.

"Fuck, baby I need you to tell me you want this. I need you to tell me I can throw away the condoms, that I can cum inside you-"

"F-Fuck, Daddy," Your slip-up would've gone perfectly unnoticed, were it not for the heavy, almost oppressive silence between the two of you in the bathroom. Mingyu's ears perk up like a puppy that had just heard his favorite word, and he pulls himself away to gaze deeply into your eyes with adoration and awe. Mingyu's pink lips hang open as he scrambles back up to his height. He cups your cheeks with both hands, and you lean into his warm calluses as his thumbs rub gentle circles on your cheek.

The kiss he leaves on your nose is delicate and romantic.

The perfect calm before the proverbial storm.

Mingyu then nods slowly as he says, "Well now I'm definitely going to fuck you," the conviction and the bass in his voice urges a pathetic whimper through your lips and you're left to comply limply as Mingyu places a palm on your exposed thigh. He lifts you up until your leg is locked firmly around his hip and he's almost perfectly slotted between your bare legs. The feeling of having him so close to you, in such a starkly intimate position leaves you both momentarily speechless and you're watching each other as if terrified of breaking this spell of lust.

Mingyu is deliberate in his actions as he moves his hand to pull his cock out of his pants, all without breaking eye contact.

"Don't play with me like this, baby," it's the most serious he has ever been, and your back is almost moulded to the wall as Mingyu lines the tip of his aching cock to your dripping cunt. "I was literally so close to cumming in my pants, so if you're playing with me right now-"

"Mingyu," your voice is airy as you push your hips forward, taking initiative, as you always did, until the head of his cock was prodding your entrance. He shivers greatly before stealing a glance down at his cock entering you so swiftly, before he gazes deep into your eyes once more.

"If you want me…" Mingyu whispers as he fully sheathes his cock inside you, overcome by yet another violent shiver. "Baby, you have me."

The first thrust is nearly cataclysmic and he has to stop himself from cumming on the spot. Seeing him so incredibly turned on, so ready to burst at the seams has your cunt clenching around him, pulling him deeper and deeper until his gigantic cock was stretching your cunt to what felt like its limits. That second thrust completely drains him of all his composure and soon Mingyu's fucking you relentlessy into the wall as if he both hated you and loved you and did not know which was which.

Your mouth hangs open as you watch him absolutely ravage you. His dark eyes are hooded with lust and he's babbling his incoherent sentences while his long, messy hair brushes over his cheeks. He is absolutely fargone as he thrusts his hips into you, while his other hand is stationed against the wall above you. "Thank you for letting me do this, baby," he damn near whimpers as he pushes himself harder and faster into you, unable to stop the neediness from sinking into his tone. "Thank you, thank you, thank you-"

"You're doing so well baby" You whisper, causing his hips to stutter against yours while a pained moan releases itself from your throat.

Your mouth is still hanging open and Mingyu takes the opportunity to dip down and crash his lips onto yours. The kiss is furious and desperate and you realise this is exactly what you love about him. You appreciate how easy it is to please him, how unashamed Mingyu is of displaying his emotions. He is loud and passionate and it drives you absolutely insane.

"Fuck-I'm close," He breathes, as he peppers kisses along your face. His hand squeezes desperately at your breasts as he pants in your ear. "Tell me to cum inside you- pleasepleaseplease,"

You are operating purely on the lust distributed from Mingyu's incessant whining and whimpering until an idea strikes you so vividly you almost wonder why you had not done this before.

In between your feverish panting and Mingyu's ravaging motions, you delve your head into his hair before peeling his face away from you. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion before you slither your hand down to lock your palm around the his throat. Your hand doesn't fully enclose his neck but you succeed in adding pressure, causing the man before you to roll his eyes into the back of his skull in absolutely ecstasy-

"Oh fuck-I'm cumming-" his body spasms before you in a euphoric daze, quickly triggering your own orgasm as you continue to choke him and move your hips in tandem with his cock.

"Fuck, oh fuck!" He swears as he clamps his hand around your thigh as if begging to spread you wider, to push in deeper until he's filling you up completely with his load. It's messy and so wildly intimate, you're both lost in the crevices of your own respective pleasure. How anyone could make someone feel as completed as you two currently feel is so unimaginable, you both struggle to find the words. Mingyu is a panting mess above you while you attempt to ease your runway heart.

It strikes you then that you're perhaps afraid, now that the lust has cleared that the post nut clarity might rid him of his earlier statements.

All you do is watch as he places another kiss on the tip of your nose before easing his cock out of you.

"I'll run out to buy Plan B tomorrow. You don't have to -"

He shushes you almost immediately as he pads over the bathroom sink. Mingyu hums softly as he ruffles through the medicine cabinet until he finds what he's looking for. All you can do is watch as he dumps the entire contents of your birth control pills down the toilet. He never breaks eye contact, only maintaining a wide slightly manic smile.

<3

© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost

[targaryen-dynasty]

WORSHIP ME INSTEAD.

Maegor Targaryen x Niece!Septa!Reader

The Gods have been unhappy with your uncle for some time now, but perhaps he's just needed to give them an offering… a sacrifice in return for a healthy heir all along. And what makes a better sacrifice than a septa?

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT - MDNI; very dubious consent, canon typical incest/targcest (uncle/niece), blasphemy, corruption, corruption kink, size difference, semi public sex, female reader (mentions long, silver hair as appearance)

WORDS: 3K

NOTES: you're all getting some big tiddy daddy as a special treat and to officially end my 3k celebration! thanks to everyone that has participated by asking questions, by writing their own fics, and by just supporting me. also a special thanks to @zaldritzosrose and @arcielee for betaing this. <3

The atmosphere in the newly completed Red Keep is strange. It never was comfortable or calm, not even when your father sat the throne, but it feels as though a dark veil is hanging low over the castle and its staff, not even sparing the king and your uncle, Maegor Targaryen. 

You’ve been gone from court for quite a while, being sent to Oldtown to become a septa by the very hands of the man you’re serving now, which has made the change in atmosphere even more apparent to you. 

Several deaths haunt the castle — Ceryse Hightower’s being the most recent one — and you can only fathom the pressure your uncle holds on his shoulders at this very moment. He does not have an heir, one wife after the other perishes, and the boy that poses the biggest threat to his claim to the throne, your brother Jaehaerys, has fled the castle of Dragonstone with your mother after the passing of the Dowager Queen Visenya. 

You were not mad at being sent to the Starry Sept, for it allowed you to leave the insanity of your own House for an unknown amount of time. It was when you’d been called back to King’s Landing that you could feel your mood sour. You were brought there with no real task for you at hand which forced you to take over some duties Grand Maester Benifer assigned you with. 

Your whole day has been spent in the Keep’s library, making you forgo your hood at one point and therefore allowing your silver tresses to cascade down your back freely. Wearing the hood is no necessity, hence your lack of concern should someone walk into the library and catch you without it. 

With several books in hand, you sort some of the scrolls and books that had been brought to the royal chambers before, putting them back to where they belong. 

You are too engrossed in your task to notice that you’ve been alone for the longest of time, only aware of that other presence the moment the raspy voice fills the room. “Septa,” he almost says it in a mocking manner, and you immediately know who it is that has joined you. 

Turning on your heels, you crane your neck to meet your uncle’s eyes for a moment. “Y-Your Grace.” You dip into a slight curtsy, placing the books in an empty place on the shelf.

Heat warms your cheeks in his presence. Even during your childhood, you have always found a liking for your uncle and enjoyed the way he allowed you to leave the boredom of your princessly duties to take you flying on Balerion or let you watch him train with the sword. 

“At ease, Septa,” he replies, flicking his hand as if he means to dismiss your stiff posture. The library is not well lit, a few candles sparsely placed here and there granting for most of the light, and yet you still notice the way his eyes rove over your form slowly and deliberately. “I trust that all is well in the Keep?”

Your heart races in your chest underneath his gaze, as if he contemplates eating you, and it makes you swallow thickly. “Oh, yes, of course. Everything is well, Your Grace,” you say, trying to keep your voice as calm and polite as possible, though you can not help but feel your pulse quickening at the hunger in his eyes. 

His lips curve into a smile, clearly taking pleasure in the way you’re squirming beneath his gaze. “And your duties? All going smoothly?” He takes a step towards you, looming over your small frame. 

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to keep your composure, more so as his pleasant scent fills your nostrils in a way you can’t describe. Taking in a shaky breath, a shiver runs down your spine. It’s been easier being close to him when you were all but a child he’s bounced on his knee, not a woman grown.  

“Well enough,” you reply a beat later. “The new midwives are coming along wonderfully. The Queen can know herself in good hands should she be with child soon.”

Maegor just hums in response, reaching out a hand to drag his knuckles over your cheek, his calloused fingers rough against your soft skin. Even from this little contact he can feel how warm your flesh is, and a heat grows in his loins at the thought of how warm and sensitive your skin would be if it was no longer covered by your septa robes. 

“That is good then… Septa ,” he says, hesitating to use your title. His voice has dropped lower as his hand travels to your jaw, his thumb caressing your chin. 

Your eyes widen, but you don’t dare to step away from him for fear of the consequences. “... Your Grace?” You eventually find the courage to whisper. 

His fingers graze your jaw, gently tracing your features. A low hum rumbles in the depth of his chest. You don’t know that he’s always found you beautiful, much more than your younger sister Rhaena, and even more now that you’ve become a woman grown. You’re so unlike the women he usually entertains himself with. “Yes, Septa?” With these words leaving his lips, his hand travels down to your neck, gently wrapping around your throat, grasp firmly but not enough to hurt you. 

Drawing in a deep breath, that is the moment you decide to bring some space between you again, taking a step back. But much to your surprise, his grip does not falter, hand still around your throat with his arm just outstretched. “I–” you swallow thickly, not able to keep your gazes locked. “This… This is highly inappropriate, Your Grace.”

Maegor merely scoffs, and although his hand follows your movements, it’s clear it’s meant to stop you from getting away from him. His thumb gently runs along the sensitive skin of your throat, feeling your pulse quicken beneath the pad of it. “Inappropriate?” he murmurs, his dark blown eyes drinking in the sight of your slightly parted lips. “When have I ever cared for what was appropriate, Septa?”

It feels as though the gentle brush of his thumb coaxes another shiver to run down your spine, and you catch your mind straying to the thoughts of what it would feel like if his fingers were anywhere else but your neck. 

“Must… Must I remind His Grace that it was him sending me to Oldtown to become a septa? I–I have vowed–” you trail off, your voice shaking slightly. “It is not very proper for a septa to be touched in… this way.”

Moving forward again and closing the gap that has formed, his hand around your throat stops you from backing away. “It’s not proper, no…” he murmurs, leaning forwards to bring his lips on level with your ear. “But then again, I’ve never been a proper man.”

You suppress an involuntary gasp as you feel his hot breath fanning over your skin, enough to nearly melt you here and now. Perhaps his grip leaves you more as a willing prisoner to his mercy rather than his prey. A part of you wants to pull away, yet the other part is afraid of angering him by doing so. 

“Y–Your Grace…” you whisper, the sound of your voice almost breathless as his domineering presence makes it difficult to think straight, “... please.”

The wicked smirk on his lips grows wider at your pleading. He can feel himself getting lost in your voice, so soft yet sounding so helpless in his presence. If it hasn’t been obvious before, he takes immense pleasure in the way he towers over your frame, making you appear so small and fragile clad in your septa robes. 

“Please what, niece ?” he says, leaning in even more to brush his lips against the shell of your ear. 

You try to tilt your head to get away from him, squirming in his grasp, but to no avail. “Īlon kessa daor,” you try to reason with him in the tongue of your ancestors, a small flicker of hope that this brings some sort of clarity back to him. We should not. 

But Maegor just chuckles lowly, the grip around your throat tightening slightly. Your breathing is uneven, shaky even, with your body pressed against his, and he relishes in the feeling of your vulnerability. “Kostilus īlon kessa daor,” he replies, a dangerous lilt in his tone. “Yn gaoman sīr jorrāelagon raqagon ra nyke kessa daor.” Perhaps we should not. But I do so love to indulge in things I shouldn’t.

Before you can answer, you’re spun around by him, the movement unusually fluid and graceful, as if he’s done it plenty of times before. Your back presses against his sturdy chest, pinning you between him and the bookshelf with no way to escape. The hand from your throat rests on your waist instead, the fabric of your robe pinched between his fingers.

“That’s much better, is it not?” he teases in a murmur. 

The vow of chastity you’ve sworn plays over and over again in your mind, but does little to stop your knees from growing weak at the proximity. 

“This is not a good idea… uncle ,” you protest quietly. It’s completely out of place for you to address him as such, he is the king and you’re a mere septa that has set aside her last name, but neither the Mother Above nor the Maiden can stop him from getting under your skin. 

“Perhaps, but where is the fun in a good idea, huh?”

You’re a septa, and you’re supposed to be a pious and celibate woman, but at this moment all you can think of is how good it feels to have him this close to you, so very close to giving you more – something you’ve craved for a long time. 

Both your hands are captured by his paw, pinning them behind your back and making you unable to move. While his lips explore the side of your neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses, his other hand rucks up the skirt of your robe, bunching it around your waist. It’s pinched by the fingers of his other hand, held high and allowing him to pay more attention to your undergarments. 

If you weren’t so distracted by the coarse hairs of his beard scratching the sensitive skin of your neck with each kiss he pressed to it, you would have attempted to squeeze your thighs together, making it more difficult for him to tug down your smallclothes. But alas, your mind and body are too far gone from all the summers you have spent untouched and unsatisfied, addicted to the rush his touch sends through your body. 

He is hard and heavy behind you, the outline of his thick cock pressing against the curve of your arse. You're too desperate for something you have only imagined at night, making you arch your back as though you mean to make him hurry up. You can feel him fumble with the laces of his breeches, undoing them one by one. 

“We’ll just have to be good at not getting caught,” he rasps against your neck. The robe you wear offers almost no liberty to push it down to reveal more of your soft skin and the curve where your neck meets your shoulder to him, and so he has to make do with your neck alone. 

Your uncle is met with little resistance as he sheaths his hard cock inside of your warm cunt, filling you up at once. Not even the sharp pain of his teeth sinking into the skin at the curve of your neck grants you enough distraction from the stinging that comes with accommodating his size, your cunt struggling to take him completely. 

“By the Seven,” you whimper, your hands clenching to fists in his grasp while your walls flutter around him.  

Your soft whimpers are enough to drive him further into his need for you already, and the gentle rolls of his hips make your knees slacken, caught by him bringing his free hand to your chin to pull your body against his. “There is no need for the Gods here, my sweet Septa,” Maegor rasps into your ear, emphasizing his words with a particularly harsh thrust of his hips that makes you choke on a whine. “You may worship me instead.”

His grip on your chin forces you to tilt your head back and arch your back against him to hold up with the slowly increasing pace of his thrusts, and your teeth digging into your bottom lip is a fruitless attempt of yours to stifle a moan coaxed past them by that. 

The sound of your moans and whimpers sparks something in him, prompting him to growl against your skin. It tightens the grip he has on your chin to the point it becomes borderline painful with how much he has tilted it back. 

“Don’t hold back,” he grunts, resting his forehead against the crown of your head. “Let me hear you, sweetling.”

Although your mouth is agape, no more sounds than breathy whimpers and whines leave your lips, despite the reckless pounding of him. But when another moan manages to escape your chest, it strains your throat to the point you have to cough once. 

Sensing your discomfort, he eases the grip just slightly, shifting it to your throat and allowing your head to tip forward again. You’re desperate to fill your lungs with air, yet each breath is knocked out of them by the merciless snaps of his hips. 

“That’s it,” he groans, nudging your legs further apart with his foot. “The Gods have been unhappy with me for some time now, but perhaps I’ve just needed to give them an offering… a sacrifice.” He’s just rambling into your hair at this point, and your mind is too hazy to really process anything he says.

You’ve been so inexperienced and have spent so much time completely untouched that even the slapping of his heavy sac of stones against your pearl brings you a pleasure beyond imagination. 

He towers over you, your small frame completely hidden by his significantly taller one. It’s such an easy game for him to keep you where he wants, to use you however he pleases, and at this point you’d let him do whatever he desires with you for as long as you get to relive the sensations you feel over and over again. 

Your peak washes over you in an ambush, the pleasure all but soaring through your veins. But his assault on your cunt doesn’t stop, and when the urge overcomes you to squeeze your thighs together, it doesn’t seize. 

“Perhaps the Gods haven’t been giving me a healthy heir because they need me to fill you up,” he growls as if he’s been waiting for this since the moment he’d sent you to Oldtown, his voice raspy and thick with need. “Perhaps the Seven will bless me with a son if my seed quickens within you.”

His words nearly send you to your knees if it wasn’t for his muscular arm wrapped around your frame. A renewed wave of your arousal oozes out of your cunt at the thoughts of you carrying his child, yet it also makes you shudder, a feeling of guilt lingering in the pit of your belly. “By… By the Gods… T-The Seven would not–” you protest weakly, your voice a little more than a gasp. But even to your own ears your protest sounds more like a pleading than denial. 

Pulling you even closer against him, Maegor nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, teeth grazing the exposed flesh of your shoulder gently. “My little Septa,” he murmurs, the nickname almost sounding like an insult and a taunt. “You say we can not, yet you press yourself against me… are you so desperate for my cock?”

That is the moment you lose any resemblance of restraint you’ve held before, your mind becoming blank, his merciless pounding, and words forcing every thought right out of your brain. You whine a string of incoherent words, rambling one ‘yes’ after the other. 

It’s as if he’s just as desperate, because you can feel his thrusts becoming more and more erratic, a sign that lets you know he is about to topple over the edge. With a few more thrusts, he forces his thick cock into you, until a strained groan heralds his peak. His twitching cock spills his seed deep inside of your quivering cunt, and you squeeze him ever so tightly in response, all but milking him for every drop. 

He squeezes your flesh and trails both his hands over your body, mapping out the curves hiding beneath the robe. His thrusts grow leisurely, the feeling of pure bliss subsiding rather quickly for him. 

Shame and guilt for what just has happened overcomes you, growing stronger the moment he pulls out and you feel the remnants of his spend idly trickle down your thighs.

You don’t dare pull around. You don’t want to meet his gaze, to see the smugness and satisfaction written over his features at having convinced you to give in to him. 

“I suppose I have kept you away from your duties for long enough,” he says, his voice dripping with irony. “You’re a septa, and I believe you have some more duties to tend to.”

Nodding weakly in agreement, you can’t shake off the feelings of being exposed and vulnerable under his piercing gaze. It takes a moment for your brain to function again, the fog of need and pleasure only slowly clearing from your mind. 

“You’re right, Your Grace,” you say, voice weak and shaky. “I should… I should get going…” Dipping your head in a nod, you’re quick to scurry off, hastily looking around on your way out of the library in hope of no one having seen you in your moment of indiscretion.

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @k4marina @foxyanon @peachysunrize @nats-whore

@palmer-hjp @sinarainbows @luvdella

General Taglist: @arcielee @userhotd @multyfangirl @zaldritzosrose @black-dread

@wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @thought--bubble @dixie-elocin @beautbuck

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

What Type of Kinks & Turn Ons They Have [2]

[ NSFW + MDNI ]

Alastor

Power Play (He’s an extreme dominant. You won’t ever get a chance to have the upper hand.)

Master / Servant Dynamic

Gore (Anything fear inducing for you really)

Primal Play (Predator / Prey ( IICYIFY type of thing…)

Breath Deprivation / Choking (Alastor tends to withhold physical touch in public but choking you ‘casually’ isn’t abnormal. Although, behind closed doors he’s nowhere near as gentle as he is out in the open. The marks he leaves on your throat never seem to fade…)

Knife Play / Sharpness (His claws are incredibly sharp and get even more deadly when he transforms into his larger demon form. It terrifying but the pain of a few scratches is nothing compared to the consequences you’d suffer if you ran from him..)

Light Bondage (He’ll never let you use any restraint on him…those are just for him to use on you..)

Orgasm Control / Denial (His favorite punishment for you…it’s pure torture…)

Voice kink (You have it bad for him but he’s also wildly attracted to yours as well -he will never admit that to your face.)

Branding / Biting / Scratching / Marking

Titles (He isn’t a huge fan of pet names and he uses them only to persuade or fluster you on a daily basis but when ‘sir’ ‘master’ or even ‘daddy’ slips out of your mouth the deer demon loses his mind for a spilt second. He adores it…)

Somophilia (Alastor does not sleep….its bound to happen and you don’t mind as long as he gives you a gift/treat when you’re finally awake.)

Free Use / Slight CNC. (He prefers control over everything -even when and where he fucks you..)

Breeding (This only happens during his severe ruts…he wears you out a little too fast but you can’t complain.)

Sadism. (He’s a certified sadist and can’t have a good time if he’s not humiliating you in one way or another.)

Humiliation (Alastor is never above making you feel flustered or shy and he’s definitely no saint either. If you break into tears from mere vulgar words he whispers in your ear …he’s totally fine with it.)

Aftercare (He is surprisingly efficient and gentler with you but on a few occasions seeing how weak and docile you are after the fact makes him want you all over again…)

Lucifer

DDLG (He can’t help it..)

Daddy kink.. (You called him that once on a dare and now he’s obsessed with it and quite literally gets rock hard when you do.)

Innocence / Corruption Kink (This is more of a semi-natural reaction he has to you. It’s in his nature and you play into it well…)

Oral (It’s an addiction for him but you’ll never refuse his offer to go down on you. He’s a pro by anyone’s standards. You learn how to please him properly with a few lessons from him after a while.)

Massachist (Once in a blue moon Lucifer actually gets rough with you and it’s usually because of pent of rage on his part.)

Sense Deprivation (Being denied the option to feel, see, taste, or hear you drives him insane. The same goes for you and from time to time it leads to a longer night for the both of you.)

Overstimulation

Cuckholding (The instant you leave him hot and embarrassingly bothered he’s a mess. It’s almost euphoric seeing the King of Hell collapse under your fingertips.)

Exhibitionism

Impact Play (General punishments for you specifically. A light slap across the face or backside. Maybe a rough tug of your hair as as a sign from him for you to listen. Nothing too outrageous.)

Praise / Degradation (Works both ways)

Voyeurism (Lucifer prefers to watch you pleasure yourself for him more often than not but there are times he’ll purposefully relieve himself just for you to watch…)

Spit / Drool (Similar to a blood kink, he enjoys the taste of you. There’s also the implication of your body belonging to him and willingly taking in whatever he gives it. The first time he spit in your mouth was purely on accident but when you smiled and asked for more…it became his new favorite thing to do to you…)

Aftercare / Cuddling. (Let’s be real, he’s the absolute best at aftercare and does everything within his power to make you feel comfortable again. However, you aren’t allowed to leave his side for hours and end up curled up close to his side for most of the day/night. Sometimes he keeps his hands to himself…other times…you’re back to square one.)

What should I do next? For these type of posts I mean? ❤️

[spookygibberish]

Funeralworms comprise a genus of Juggernaut characterized by a heavily-built, serpentine form, the absence of eyes, a single pair of broad, paddle-like forelimbs, and a prominent array of individually articulated, crushing jaws. They are employed in the disposal of organic materials, the production of high quality fertilizer, and the reclamation of Ibis tissue from corpses. The latter function earning them a central role in Bibat funeral rites, hence the name.

In Bibat, it is believed that Ibis tissue, while a powerful creative force in life, is equally capable of corruption, especially when touched by death. It is therefor not adequate to bury the Ibistouched, since Ibis tissue, if allowed to decompose, has the potential to render the earth fallow and breed illness. By consuming the Ibistouched dead, Funeralworms collect the Ibis tissue from the flesh, freeing it from corruption, purifying it, and accumulating it in their bodies to be returned to the Oracle System. It is mandatory that the corpses of all dagnyds, Sansin, Thrones and Throne-children both headless and unbodied alike, be fed to the Funeralworm. This is not a necessary funeral rite for those who are not Ibistouched, but the devout often choose to have it preformed upon their death. If a funeralworm is not available, cremation is an acceptable alternative.

Funeralworms are semi-aquatic dagnyds that reside entirely in special pools (bymūt)constructed for their housing. At their least elaborate, bymūt are little more than shallow ponds dug into clay soil, but they are often encircled by a low, stone fence with an offering platform at one end, and a chamber for dung collection at the other. These pools are usually located several kilometers from areas of habitation, although many larger cities have grown to encircle bymūt that were originally constructed a more acceptable distance away. These tend to be the most elaborate of their kind, ending up with bespoke temple complexes erected around them. As the functions of the Funeralworm are deeply linked to Bibat customs, their husbandry is entirely handled by Sansin, though the service they offer is a public one.

The design of the bymūt is necessary for the survival of fully mature funeralworms, who are not only so large as to be incapable of freely moving over dry land, but risk being crushed beneath their own weight without the support of water. Newborn funeralworms, at about a meter and a half in length, are the most mobile of their kind, and often attempt to escape their bymūt to explore. This is usually permitted (with supervision), as such young individuals have limited processing capacity, and rarely exist in a context where the sole burden of waste management relies on them. Many Sansin are sympathetic to the plight of the Funeralworm, and see little purpose in restricting the movement of a creature which never approaches agile at any age, and for most of its decades long life will be confined to a single small pool.

Despite a life spent entirely in water, Funeralworms are entirely air-breathing, and are not particularly good swimmers. They are protected from flooding by the high fat content of their bodies, which renders them buoyant and unlikely to drown. The greatest risk floods pose is temptation. Rising water allows Funeralworms the opportunity to travel freely from their bymūt, and many die after becoming stranded once the water level recedes, especially those which are particularly old and heavy.

[fqiryspit]

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 - 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧.𝐣

eren jaeger x fem!reader

"whose perfume is that?"

cw: 2k words, suspicions of cheating, stressing, reader and eren are married, pussy eating, shower sex, tongue fucking, dick sucking, sex in a semi-public place, v n p sex, no condom, slight corruption kink, manhandling, dom!eren, sub!reader

you pushed your hair behind your ear as you sucked in your cheek, flipping the next page as your head shot up at the sound of your front door closing.

uncrossing your legs and arms wide you grinned at a tired, stressed eren.

"long day?" you mumbled into his button up, an airy laugh escaped his lips as he wrapped his arms around you so tightly

"horribly" he added, digging his nose into your hair as he sighed, grateful to be home.

after that, he stripped from his sweaty attire and hopped into the shower as you prepared dinner, this calm lifestyle suiting you both as he decided to leave work at work and rarely snapped with stress

it's perfect. you knew when to embrace him after a long day and when to stay clear, you're not tip-toeing around him or anything, you're just picking up on his hints.

you love that..-picking up on hints that is. but not so much when it comes to perfume on his collar and staying out late. not at all.

you twirled the ring on your finger, teeth gnawing at your lip making it bloody and bruised. 2 hours late? dinners cold and your patience is thin.

he would've texted.

That's all you can think. but maybe it's hard to type a simple "gonna be late" when you're balls deep in-

"baby?"

he's home.

you're crossed-legged on your shared bed and you don't know if you wanna see him. you almost want him to stroll past you and just shower so you don't have to see his messy hair or smell another women's fragrance

"honey? are you out?"

why isn't he letting up? are you crazy? is this-

"fuck, there you are" he sighed, walking into the bedroom as he shrugged off his coat he usually hangs up in the doorway, was he really that adamant on finding you that he couldn't put his coat up? was he scared that you packed up and left, or just being a good husband? you feel insane.

he tossed it to the floor like it didn't cost 500 dollars and walked over to you, muscles straining his top as he scoops your cheeks up to look at him

"are you okay? did something happen?" he is actually worried and you're a horrible person.

"uh- no sorry, just worried about you...took a while for you to come home" you whispered, he looked at you for another minute to check if everything was alright before laying down next to you

"my phone died, sorry honey, dumbasses made me stay late and traffic was a bitch." he mumbled into the matters as you moved to lay down next to him

"mm" you hummed in response, gliding your fingers softly into his already undone hair as he lightly moans into the sheets

"missed you all day" he adds, rolling over after a minute and standing, unbuttoning his shirt

halfway done he leans in, trapping your now upright form with his hands at either side of you,

"how 'bout you join me in the shower?" he grins, waiting for your answer as your face heats up rapidly

"ok" you whisper, excitement pooling into your panties as he stares into you

he scoops you up, bringing you to the bathroom, and placing you on the counter, lips smacking against yours in almost a panic as he separates you and puts the shower on. you look over at the immediate steam as he put it to the hottest tempt. stripping your shirt off with a clean swipe and pulling your pants off with your soaked panties

as the bathroom fogs with steam, he kneels down, licking up your cunt, his groans at your heat and pulsing pussy, wrapping your thighs around him as he laps at you like a starved man

sliding his tongue into your cunt with ease, he starts fucking you with it as tears pool out of your eyes, and beg him to keep going

with cum dripping from his chin and him licking every last drop, he holds your weary frame as he enters the shower to have his way with you.

it was amazing, hand holding against the cold tile as hot steam keeps you warm, his cock sliding in and out of you as he spills praises of "so fucking gorgeous" "been thinkin' bout this all day" "so fuckin' perfect for me" "I love you so much"

the rest of the night was a blur with a sore body and him taking care of you, ordering take-out because of the cold dinner, and you cuddled up with him watching horrible tv shows while eating.

it was truly, perfect.

dumbass forget his lunch.

you text him a warning of your arrival and he responded with a "can't wait 😉"

you scoffed and hopped into your car, trying to make this fast and praying he'd be at the entrance because a tee shirt and jeans isn't an outfit you wanna meet his coworkers in.

you sighed and parked as you accepted your fate in going in. you sucked your bottom lip in as you looked like a mother bringing your forgetful child lunch mid-class.

you talked to the receptionist who had a glare on her with a verrry tight top that made you feel even more like an outcast.

"and who are you to mr. jaeger?" she said, valley accent heavy on her lips

"I'm his wife..." you cleared your throat, knowing this might be a problem

"you know...I can just call him and have him down here-" you rambled, trying to get this to end as embarrassment flooded you

"ma'am, I'll call him, okay?" she scoffed and you just had your lips in a tight line and waited.

after forever, she gave you the go-ahead to go upstairs, you thanked her and went onto the elevator where you thought out a message to leave eren because why the fuck didn't he come downstairs

you felt more secure now, if this is you before you'd be assuming the worst, but, you've been trying to stop that and just trust your damn husband

as the elevator doors open all eyes were on you and you suddenly felt like you were gonna die again. you shuffled out, scared to bother anyone as you moved through the busy halls

you saw a woman with jet-black hair cut short as she moved empty-handed, you stopped her shyly and asked if she knew eren and if so, where he'd be

"why do you need to see eren?" she questioned immediately, you sighed again, not wanting to go through receptionists 2.0

"I'm his wife" you answered for the 50th time, her eyes darkened slightly before putting on the fakest smile you've ever seen

"oo, I'm mikasa" she said as if you'd know, you nodded like you did but she caught on you were oblivious

"me and eren are great friends" she added to save her point, you nodded again, not caring too much about his work friends but more so him

"yeah, we've been friends since-" she pushes air out of her mouth as she moves a hand on her hip "gosh, I don't even know how long"

"that's nice" you said, a little too aggressive than you wanted it to be, her eyes moved to yours and she stood straight again with a sly grin on her lips

"there's no need to worry between him and I, I mean, the people here call me his wife because we're so close but I'm sure they know you as well"

this bitch

"that's nice," you repeated before taking a breath "eren doesn't talk a lot about work so I had no idea he made friends"

her eye twitched slightly and you were pleased, passive aggressiveness strong in your cheery voice as you just wanted to leave

"he probably didn't wanna worry you"

"about what?" you answered right anyway, knowing you fell into her trap and this would take long she put another almost surprised face on

"I mean, we go out a lot and people talk is all." you stared uninterested at her, taking a deep breath in and getting a hint of perfume, the same one eren had sprinkled on his collar

"like, going out to lunch and dinner isn't a big deal, but, people think that your rings on my finger haaa" she ended with an airy laugh, and you nodded with a tight-lipped smile and she finished up the conversation, and finally pointing to his fucking office

you said your goodbyes and walked into there where eren was signing some unimportant papers

"baby took you long enough" he whined, sitting up as he wrapped his arms around you, moved back to lock his lips with you as you stood almost motionless

"everything okay?" he asked backing up and taking a look at your frame

"ran into mikasa...your work wife" you said, annoyed.

"shit, she won't leave me alone...what did she say to you?" he stood up walking towards you worried she messed with you

"nothing, here's your lunch-" you lifted the small bag up but he just sighed and asked again, "what did she say?"

you bit a chunk of your cheek, deciding to do this now rather than later

"lunches, dinner, rumors, and her perfume always on your shirt coming home" you answered simply, obviously pissed off with the situation

"dammit, I'm sorry babe, I'll talk to her-"

"no, I want you to talk to me...dinners eren? is that why you're coming home late and missing mine?" you asked, he stared at you, collecting his thoughts with a tightened jaw

"she asked me to go to a place down the street once, I said yes, I made it home in time still. all those times I came home late yes I was working. goodness babe- I- I can't believe you're even asking this" he said, moving his hands around

"I'm asking because her perfume is always on you when you come home" you said, keeping your voice low

"because goodbye hugs are a part of her nightly routine, she works with me all day, hugs and lunches are normal" he pleas

"can you keep your distance from her? she's head over heels for you eren and that shit scares me" he stared at you, almost shocked

"what scares you? me or her?" he asked, not willing for a half-assed answer

"I- that bitch would tear any relationship up, do you see her?"

"so you think I'd fuck her? takes two babe." he added and you scramble to collect your thoughts

"I- I know you wouldn't do that-" "fuck, y/n, w-were married and you think I'd fall for an employee that has a crush on me?"

"who cares about what she fucking calls herself, at the end of the day I come home to you, I fuck you" he says, keeping his voice low but firm as you stood there feeling guilty

"I'm sorry" you answered and his eyes softened, you did truly feel bad for questioning his loyalty this much

"I'm sorry that you had to go crazy alone and hear that bullshit from her.." he hugs you, kissing your forehead as he rubs circles on your back

once he pulled away he looked at you as you stared up at him, almost waiting.

he leaned down and kissed you, loving at first but becoming frantic as he pressed himself against you, getting somewhat hard

"e-eren" you scolded, here? right now?

"fuck, hold on" he lead you to a personal bathroom with a complete counter, putting you up there you feel heat pool everywhere as he stood hard in his pants

"do I need to fuck your head straight? hm?" he asked, whispering on your lips as he dips down to kiss you and rubbing himself

a whine escaped your lips, bucking your hips up as you felt your wet pussy throb for his cock

he unzips his pants and pulls out his cock, jerking himself until he was fully hard

you kissed him, moving down from the counter as his brow twitched in confusion until you sunk down to your knees

"'m sorry" you mumbled, licking up his tip as he groaned. you moved your mouth across the thick vein lining his tanned cock as your pussy ached for it to choke you, you humped your thigh desperately as you sucked on the head

"fuck, you're that horny baby? didn't I just fuck you?" he groaned out, you put him into your mouth fully as you moaned on how it choked you. it's all you want right now, to have his huge cock down your throat as you hump yourself for forgiveness

he groaned digging his nails into your hair as he fucked your throat right away, you loved how your throat ached and how tears pooled out of your eyes

"fuck, you like that baby? touch yourself, touch that fucking pussy f'me"

you listen, unzipping your pants and sliding your hand down to start rubbing your swollen clit

"aw baby, feels good, feels good being a slut?" he coos but you nod, it felt great with him using you, it's all you wanted.

"fuuck" he groaned, coming close as your eyes crossed and you came on your fingers, all you wanted is his cum

you rode your fingers expecting to get a mouth full of cum but he removed his cock from your throat

"fuck, 'wanna cum in that pussy baby...did you already cum" he sighed, having his hands run through his hair as you nodded

"riding your fingers now 'cuz you want more?" he asked, taunting you with his cock in your face

"m-mhm" you choked on your tears, leaning in you sucked his cock again as he groaned

"fuuck, you're such a slut" he moved your hair back and titled it towards him

"take your filthy fingers out of your pussy and lick them" he ordered and you did so right away, sticking your fingers down your throat as your oral fixation was healed

he picked you up back on the counter and took your pants off and shoved his cock into your pussy, you cried, telling him it was too big but he just started fucking you,

so full of cock you cried as your pupils spun, squirting everywhere as he rubbed your clit to get another one out of you

"again, cum again" he said, slamming his hips against yours and his cock felt so good all you wanted was to be full of him, always.

with shaking thigh you came again, his pace hurried as he cursed under his breath. he came deep into your womb and kissed up your neck, sweaty hair getting pushed back with his hand as your fucked out flushed face stared dizzily at him

an: I'm waaaay too tired to read through that again, but, I hope you enjoyed! I can't believe I actually made a full 2k fic! I'm feeling a little shy posting such smut but whatever I'll close my eyes once I hit post :) oh, and I for once did "maybe cheating" troupe with an actual innocent eren, who would have thought!! haha, love you guys <3

[buckets-and-trees]

Obsidian Stain and Sin

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark Ari Levinson x Female!Reader, soft!dark Curtis Everett x Female!Reader, Ari x Reader x Curtis Word Count: 8.1k Summary: You've thought of getting your first tattoo for quite a while. When you walk into Obsidian Stain Studio, you experience services beyond anything you bargained for.

Content/Warnings: tattooing/needles, DUBIOUS CONSENT, explicit smut, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, kissing, anal play/rimming (female receiving), eating it from behind, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, praise kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, size kink, manhandling, fade to black/abrupt ending

Author Notes: I've had this idea all summer. I've been eager to write it, but literally the muse only kept teasing me with it until literally about six hours ago when she said, WE'RE DOING THIS, AND WE'RE DOING THIS NOW, so it's almost late/maybe it's still you're birthday week for a hot minute in some time zone, but I'm slipping this to you @stargazingfangirl18 for your Birthday Bonenanza! Literally, when I tell you that when you originally tagged me in the announcement, and I read over the myriad of prompts, I thought, "Oh, wow, this is so tattoo Curtis and Ari coded, it HAS TO happen for Siri's birthday..." that's really how my brain thought it was finally going to get the jump on working on this. But then no. Then that other Steve story happened, and I was stoked about that. Then the new chapter for Nomad Steve, and I thought, ah well, still fun stuff, maybe someday this, and then AT THE LAST MOMENT, Muse pulled a plot twist. So here's some ruinous hoe shit. Multiple dialogue prompts from the challenge are used here, and you'll find them in bold.

A/N 2: Shout out to @vonalyn for a few convos hashing out some of this concept!

You are surprised by the tinkling of a classic bell hanging over the door that rings pleasantly as you enter the tattoo parlor.

A man behind the reception desk immediately looks up to greet you. He doesn’t shoot you a phony, business-y smile, but his demeanor is still warm and approachable. “Welcome,” he greets you. “Walk-in or appointment?” he asks.

“Um, walk-in,” you manage. In a black t-shirt with shoulders that are nearly bursting through the fabric, lush hair and beard, and striking blue eyes, he’s more than an impressive specimen. “If you’ve got an opening?” you quickly add.

“Sure, we can take you,” he says. His gaze flicks to a scheduling book in front of him on the counter. “A couple of the boys are on break or about to finish up with other clients. Your first time here, yes?”

You nod. “First tattoo ever.”

“Oh,” he says, and his eyes brighten. “Even better. Let’s get you booked in.”

He takes your name, email, and phone number to set up a profile for you in their system. There are some electronic consent forms that he takes you through and has you agree to and sign on an iPad, and then he takes asks a few questions about what you’re interested in.

“Based off what you have in mind, Curtis might be the best artist, but he won’t be finished for maybe an hour.”

“Ah,” you look at your watch. It was a bit of an impromptu idea for you to drop in to get the tattoo this afternoon, and you had time, but you had probably been foolish thinking a walk-in was any sort of good idea.

“But,” he interjects, “I’ve got two other guys who are excellent, and either one of them should be ready to take you pretty soon. Take a seat just over there, and I’ll go check in with them and get a call on time for you. I’ll also grab you a drink. Pick your poison - we’ve got water or Coke products.”

You give him your preference, and he nods and smiles.

“Right then, sit tight, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He disappears around the corner, and you do as you’ve been told and take a seat on one of the black leather couches in the lobby.

Now you have time to really take in your surroundings. The walls are black with white moldings at the floor and ceiling, and the hardwood floors are a warm walnut. Everything is dark but clean. Classic but clearly in line with current trends. On the wall behind the desk, there’s a gorgeous, white-lettered feature with shop name - Obsidian Stain Studio - that’s sleek and impressive. On the wall next to you, there are ten framed pieces of art on the wall in a mix of sizes, some of them hand-drawn artwork, and the rest photos of finished tattoos on skin.

You’re nervous but determined not to be, so you cross your legs and try to keep your anxious energy limited to just running your fingers back and forth over the edge of your phone. Looking at the different designs on the wall does serve to capture your attention, though, and quell your nerves slightly.

The man working reception returns and hands you the drink. “We should have you back there in a chair in ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Great,” you respond, and the nerves kick up a notch, but it’s with a surge of excitement.

This is happening.

You take a sip of your drink, grateful for something to occupy your hands. The cool liquid helps soothe your nerves a bit. As you wait, you observe a few other clients entering and leaving the shop checking in or paying as they leave. Some sport fresh bandages, while others are clearly here for consultations, clutching sketches or reference photos.

The buzzing of tattoo machines creates a constant backdrop of sound, occasionally punctuated by muffled laughter or conversation from the back rooms. The atmosphere is more relaxed than you expected, nineties music underscoring it all.

As you wait, a couple emerges from behind the partition separating the lobby from the work area. They're both grinning, the woman cradling her forearm gently. Her companion is animatedly discussing something with her, gesturing excitedly. You catch a glimpse of fresh ink on her skin as they pass – a vibrant butterfly with intricate, colorful wings.

The sight makes your heart race a little faster. Soon, that'll be you walking out with fresh art on your body. The thought is both thrilling and slightly terrifying.

But you won’t be walking out with a friend or partner.

Your gaze wanders back to the artwork on the walls. One piece in particular catches your eye – an intricate mandala design with flowing lines and delicate detail. You find yourself drawn to its symmetry and complexity.

"Which one’s got your attention?" a voice asks, startling you from your reverie. You look up to see someone you can only describe as a lion of a man standing before you. All of his attention is focused on you like you’re his next prey. He towers over you with a mane of golden brown hair that’s grown out to tuck nicely behind his ears and curls out at his neck. He’s got a broad chest and shoulders covered in a denim shirt with a few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. You can see peeks of ink mingled with some chest hair as well as intricate designs over his forearms. His dark blue eyes are zeroed in on you in a way that both unsettles and steadies you at the same time.

You point at the mandala, and the man smiles. “That’s one of Steve’s. He says you’re here for your first tattoo.”

“He… wait, is that Steve?” You nod and glance over at the man at the front desk who’s now consulting with an older man and showing him a few designs.

“Yep, he owns the place and loves to work the front almost as much as the back with the rest of us. I’m Ari, by the way.” He puts his hand out, inviting you to shake hands.

You push up from the couch, stand, and offer your hand for the shake. It’s engulfed easily by his big, warm, calloused hand.

“I’m the one who’s going to make your first time special.”

Your heart stutters and your face flushes. He didn’t just… your mind races. Did he?

He chuckles and drops your hand quickly. “Follow me,” he says and turns and begins striding into the back.

You fall into step behind Ari, your eyes inevitably drawn to his broad shoulders and the confident swagger in his step. The back area is an open space divided into several stations with partial walls, each with its own tattoo chair and equipment, creating semi-private booths. Ari leads you to one in the back corner.

"Have a seat," he says, gesturing to the chair.

You perch on the edge, your nerves returning full force. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and ink.

He pulls up a rolling stool and sits, leaning in close. "So, tell me about this tattoo you want."

You explain your idea - a simple constellation of stars for your zodiac sign - watching as his blue eyes light up with interest. He nods along, occasionally asking questions or offering suggestions. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you find yourself relaxing despite the butterflies in your stomach.

"Alright, I think I know what you're after," Ari says, reaching for a sketchpad. "Let me rough out a design for you."

You watch, mesmerized, as Ari's hand moves swiftly across the paper. His brow furrows in concentration, and you find yourself studying the angles of his face, the way his beard accentuates his strong jaw. Within minutes, he presents you with a design that takes your breath away.

"What do you think?" he asks, a hint of pride in his voice.

The constellation is there, just as you imagined, but Ari has added subtle details that elevate it beyond your expectations. Delicate lines connect the stars, and a hint of shadowing gives the piece depth and movement.

"It's perfect," you breathe, unable to take your eyes off the sketch.

Ari grins, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Great. Now, let's talk placement."

You indicate the spot you've chosen - your inner wrist. Ari nods approvingly. "Good choice. Nice and visible, but easy to cover if needed. Mind if I take a look?"

You extend your arm, and Ari gently takes your wrist in his large hands. His touch is surprisingly soft as he examines the area, his fingers tracing the spot where your tattoo will soon be. You can't help but notice the contrast between his rough, inked skin and your own unmarked flesh.

"Nice canvas," he murmurs, more to himself than to you. "Skin's good here. This'll work well." He looks up, catching your eye. "Ready to get started?"

You nod, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest.

“You’re a sweet, innocent thing, aren’t you?”

You open your mouth but shut it again, unsure how to respond, and he brushes his thumb over the pulse on your inner wrist, and you think you see his eyes darken.

He releases your wrist and turns to prepare his equipment. You’re frozen in place, but luckily that’s fine as it’s not necessary for you to move. You watch as he efficiently sets up his station, laying out ink caps, adjusting his machine, and pulling on a fresh pair of black latex gloves. The buzz of the tattoo machine as he tests it sends a jolt of excitement and nervousness through you.

"Alright, I'm going to clean the area now," he says, swabbing your wrist.

His touch is clinical now, professional, as he prepares your skin. The cool antiseptic makes you shiver slightly.

"Cold?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"A little," you admit.

"Don't worry, I’ll have you warm soon enough," he says with a wink that makes your cheeks flush.

Ari places the stencil on your wrist, pressing it gently to transfer the design. When he peels it away, you see the outline of your constellation on your skin for the first time. It sends a thrill through you - this is really happening.

"Make sure you’re happy with the placement before we start," he instructs. "This is your last chance to change your mind."

You focus to examine the design on your skin more closely, heart racing. It looks even better than you imagined.

"It's perfect," you say, unable to keep the excitement from your voice.

Ari grins. "Alright then, let's make it permanent. You ready?"

You nod, settling back into the chair and extending your arm.

Ari takes your arm gently, positioning it just so on the armrest. "Now, I need you to stay as still as possible," he says, his voice low and soothing. "It's going to hurt a bit, especially at first. But I promise, I'll be as gentle as I can."

The buzz of the machine fills your ears as Ari brings the needle to your skin. You hold your breath, bracing for the pain.

The first touch of the needle is a sharp, burning sensation that makes you wince. Ari pauses, his eyes flicking to your face. "You okay?"

You nod, determined. "I'm fine. Keep going."

“Move an inch, and you’ll be sorry.”

You open your mouth wordlessly again, and he laughs.

“Only joking. I know you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip and nod, something fluttering in your stomach, mixing wickedly with your nerves and the uncertainty around this man who skirts between being casual, soothing your nerves, concentration on his craft, and making these comments that insinuate and evoke wholly inappropriate thoughts.

He smiles, then concentrates back on your wrist and resumes his work. Gradually, the initial shock of pain fades into a more manageable discomfort. You find yourself relaxing, mesmerized by the steady movement of Ari's hand and the way the muscles in his biceps move and flex.

As Ari continues, your eyes shift to his face. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his blue eyes focused intently on your skin. There's something mesmerizing about watching him work, seeing the care and precision he puts into every line. The buzz of the machine becomes almost soothing, a constant backdrop to the occasional murmur of voices from other stations.

"So," Ari says after a while, breaking the silence without looking up from his work, "what made you decide to get your first tattoo today?"

You hesitate, unsure how much to share. "It's… kind of a long story."

Ari glances up, a small smile playing on his lips. "We've got time. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you."

You take a deep breath, wincing slightly as the needle hits a sensitive spot. "I've been thinking about it for a while. But today… today felt like it was finally the day to take the leap."

"Spontaneous decision, huh? Those can be the best kind."

You nod, feeling the heat creep up your neck. "I guess I just wanted to do something for myself. Something permanent.”

Ari nods thoughtfully, his eyes still focused on your wrist. "Sometimes we need a physical reminder of the changes we're making inside," he says softly. "Something to look at and think, 'Yeah, I did that. I made that choice.'"

His words resonate with you, and you find yourself relaxing further. The pain has faded to a dull, almost pleasant sensation.

"So, what's your story?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you. "How did you get into tattooing?"

Ari chuckles, pausing to wipe away excess ink. "Now that's definitely a long story. But the short version? I was a troubled kid, got into some bad stuff. Tattooing saved me, gave me a purpose."

He glances up, meeting your eyes. "There's something powerful about creating permanent art on someone's body.”

The words send another thrill through your body and you nod, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens at his intense gaze. "I can see that," you manage to say.

Ari returns his attention to your wrist, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's intimate, you know? Creating something that becomes a part of someone forever."

The word 'intimate' hangs in the air between you, charged with unspoken tension. You're acutely aware of the warmth of his hand on your skin, the gentle pressure as he works.

“You’re the one Steve says I nearly got to mark for the first time,” a new voice startles you, and you jump slightly in your chair.

Ari tsks, but his left hand had been holding your arm down firmly.

The other man chuckles. “Sorry, sugar.”

He steps closer, coming into Ari’s booth. He looks to be slightly taller than Ari, and a shade leaner, but he’s still built with more muscles than the common man. His hair is dark, shorn close to his head, and a dark beard covers his angular jaw. Ice blue eyes pierce into you, and you fight hard to suppress an actual shiver running down your spine.

"Curtis," Ari says without looking up, his tone a mix of amusement and mild irritation. "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude to interrupt?"

Curtis leans against the partition, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement draws your attention to the intricate tattoos covering his forearms. He’s got more ink than Ari.

"Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Steve said we had a noteworthy first-timer."

You feel your face flush, unsure whether to be flattered or embarrassed. Curtis's gaze is intense, almost predatory, as he looks you over.

"Well, now you've seen," Ari says, his voice tight. "Don't you have your own client to attend to?"

Curtis huffs. "Just finished up. Thought I'd come say hello." He turns his attention back to you. "How're you holding up, sweetheart? Ari treating you right?"

You nod, finding your voice. "He's been great," you manage to say, your voice a bit shaky. "It doesn't hurt as much as I expected."

Curtis grins, a glint in his eye. "Oh, Ari knows how to make it feel good, doesn't he?"

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks at the innuendo. Ari's hand tightens slightly on your wrist, and you see his jaw clench.

"Curtis," Ari says, his tone a clear warning.

Curtis holds up his hands. "Alright, alright. I can take a hint." He fixes his gaze once again on your face. "Maybe next time you'll let me be the one to mark you up. Lot more skin still to explore."

With that, he stalks away, leaving a charged atmosphere in his wake. You can feel the tension radiating off Ari as he resumes his work on your tattoo, his jaw clenched.

“Sorry about that,” Ari says after a moment, his voice low. "Curtis can be… intense."

You nod, still feeling flustered from the encounter. "It's okay," you manage to say, trying to calm your racing heart.

Ari looks up at you, his blue eyes searching your face. "You alright? Need a break?"

You shake your head. "No, I'm fine. Let's keep going."

He nods, returning his attention to your wrist. The buzz of the machine fills the silence between you once more. You try to focus on the sensation, the slight sting as the needle moves across your skin, rather than the lingering tension in the air.

After a few minutes, Ari speaks again. "You know, you don't have to let anyone pressure you into anything you're not comfortable with. Not here, not anywhere."

His words surprise you, and you meet his gaze. There's a protective glint in his eye, but he quickly returns his attention to your wrist. Ari's movements become more deliberate, almost possessive, as he continues working on your tattoo. The tension in the air is palpable, and you find yourself hyper-aware of every point of contact between your skin and his.

"Almost done," he murmurs after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all. "Just a few more touches."

You watch as he adds the final details, marveling at how the constellation seems to come to life on your skin. When he finally sits back, setting down the machine, you can't help but gasp.

"It's beautiful," you breathe.

Ari's eyes meet yours, a mixture of pride and something deeper in his gaze. “It suits you perfectly."

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words. Ari gently wipes away the last traces of excess ink, revealing the full beauty of your new tattoo. The stars seem to shimmer on your skin, the delicate lines connecting them creating a sense of movement and depth.

"Now, let's get this wrapped up and I'll go over the aftercare instructions with you," Ari says, reaching for a roll of clear film.

As he carefully covers your new tattoo, his fingers brush against your skin, sending little sparks of electricity through you. You can't help but notice how his large hands handle your wrist with such care and precision.

"There," he says, smoothing down the edges of the wrap. "All protected."

Ari walks you to the front, and your heart races when you see Steve and Curtis speaking quietly with their heads together. Ari clears his throat, and at the sight of you, Curtis nods, rakes his gaze over you once more. “Come back soon, sugar.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine at Curtis's words, but Ari's steady presence beside you helps ground you. Steve steps forward, a warm smile on his face.

"How did it go?" he asks, his eyes flickering to your wrapped wrist.

"It was amazing," you reply, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. "Ari did an incredible job." You extend your wrist, showing off your new tattoo.

Steve nods approvingly. "Beautiful work. Ari’s one of our best. Let's get you checked out."

As Steve begins to ring up your work, Ari leans against the counter beside you. His arm brushes against yours, and you're acutely aware of his proximity.

"Remember," he says softly, his voice low enough that only you can hear, "take care of it. It's a part of you now."

You nod, shyly meeting his intense gaze, looking up at him through your lashes. "I will," you promise, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ari's eyes soften, and he reaches out, his fingers ghosting over the edge of the wrap on your wrist. "Good girl," he murmurs, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

Steve clears his throat, breaking the moment. "All set," he says, handing you a receipt. "We hope to see you again soon."

You nod, suddenly feeling flustered. "Thank you," you manage to say, gathering your things.

As you turn to leave, Ari's hand catches your elbow gently. "Wait," he says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a small business card and presses it into your hand. "In case you have any questions about the aftercare. Or anything else."

Your fingers brush as you take the card, and you feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. You look down at the card, noting the personal cell phone number scrawled on it. "Thank you."

Ari's blue eyes lock with yours, intense and filled with unspoken promise.

You barely seem to turn away, but somehow manage to break off from the eye contact, and quickly rush out of Obsidian Stain Studio.

You keep Ari’s business card, but as the weeks go by, you don’t use it.

After a couple of months, you move the card from the spot next to where you keep your keys where you see it every day, into the top drawer of your desk. Out of frequent sight, but not out of mind completely.

It’s a solid six months before you return to Obsidian Stain again, but ultimately you do. The bell jingles above your head as you step inside.

The tattoo on your wrist had healed beautifully, and you loved seeing it on your skin. You had decided fairly soon afterwards that you wanted another tattoo, but even after saving up for your next one, it had taken you longer to decide whether to return Obsidian or not, the experience with Ari and encounters with Curtis leaving you torn between terrified and desperately curious to go back.

Ultimately the allure was too strong to deny.

But, more logically, although finally going in to get your first tattoo had been on a whim, you had been very thorough in narrowing down and exploring your options for months before. You knew they were one of the best in your area, especially for the style you wanted, and the price point you knew you could afford while still ensuring quality.

Unwilling to make an appointment, though, you were going to gamble on a walk-in again.

No one was immediately at the front desk, but at the sound of the bell, Steve quickly appears. “Welcome back,” he said, a broad grin on his face.

“Walk-in?” you ask, and remind him of your name.

“Oh, I remember you.” Steve beckons you forward. “Let me see that wrist,” he says.

You offer your arm with pride, and he smiles warmly.

“Looks good. You hit us on a slow day, perfect for a walk in. I’ll get you booked in, and then I’ll take you right back.”

You feel a mix of excitement and nervousness as Steve leads you to the back. The familiar scent of antiseptic and ink fills your nostrils, bringing back memories of your last visit. Your eyes scan the room, half hoping and half dreading to see a certain tattooist.

"Curtis is free right now," Steve says, guiding you to a station. "He'll take good care of you."

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Curtis's name. You remember his intense gaze, his bold words from your last visit. Part of you is disappointed it's not Ari, but another part is intrigued.

Curtis looks up as you approach, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Well, well. Look who's back," he says, his ice blue eyes locking onto yours.

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very exposed under his gaze. "Hi," you manage evenly.

Curtis's eyes rake over you. "I was hoping you'd come back to us," he says, his voice low and smooth. "What can I do for you today, sugar?"

You begin to explain the design you have in mind - a delicate, line art floral piece. As you talk, Curtis listens intently, occasionally nodding or asking questions. His focus is entirely on you, making you feel both nervous and oddly thrilled.

“And where do you want it?” he finally asks.

You trace an area of your other arm - opposite of the one with your inked-up wrist — moving your above, over, and below the crook of your elbow.

“Hmm,” he hums. “You sure?”

Your eyes shoot to his. “Yes?” an edge of hesitation now in your voice at his query.

He narrows his eyes slightly, then shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

“No. A piece like this could work well there, but that’s not where you want me to put this.”

“It… isn’t?”

“No, it should go here,” he says, and he reaches out and brushes his fingers lightly over your ribs instead, causing you to shiver.

He gestures for you to take a seat in the chair. As you settle in, Curtis rolls his stool closer, leaning in. "Now, this is going to be a bit more intense than your wrist. You sure you're ready for it?"

You nod, trying to project confidence despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. "I'm ready."

Curtis grins, a predatory glint in his eye. "That's what I want to hear from that pretty mouth. Now just sit tight and wait for me while I draw something up.”

Your heart races as you lean back in the chair, Curtis's words echoing in your mind, causing heat to pool in your core. You watch, mesmerized by the intensity of his focus. After a few minutes, he turns back to you, holding up the sketch.

"What do you think?" he asks.

Your breath catches in your throat. The design is beautiful - delicate flowers and vines intertwining in a way that would perfectly follow the curve of your ribs.

"It's perfect," you breathe, unable to take your eyes off the design.

Curtis smirks, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Alright then, let's get started. I'm going to need you to lift your shirt for me."

Your cheeks flush as you slowly raise the hem of your shirt, exposing your ribs. Curtis's eyes darken as they roam over your skin.

"Beautiful canvas," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You feel exposed, knowing your own soft belly and imperfections, but he looks at you in a way that has your head spinning, it’s a hunger that’s almost reverent.

“Better if you take your shirt off for me, sugar,” he says, his tone firm.

Head swirling, you don’t think to refuse, just do as you’re told. With trembling hands, you pull your shirt over your head, feeling incredibly vulnerable as you sit there in just your bra. Curtis's eyes roam over your exposed skin, a look of satisfaction on his face.

"That's better," he says, his voice low and approving. "Now, let's get you positioned just right."

His hands, surprisingly gentle, guide you to lie back and slightly to the side. You shiver as his fingers trail along your ribs, mapping out where the tattoo will go.

"Nervous?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

He already knows the answer, but you nod, not trusting your voice.

Curtis leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Don't worry, sugar. I'll take good care of you."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

Curtis begins to clean and prepare your skin, his touch clinical yet somehow still intimate. You try to steady your breathing, hyperaware of every point of contact between his hands and your body.

"Now, this is going to hurt more than your wrist did," Curtis warns, his voice low. "But I know you can take it. You're tougher than you look, aren't you, sugar?"

You nod, steeling yourself for the pain. The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the air, and then you feel the first bite of the needle against your skin. You gasp, your body tensing.

"Breathe," Curtis instructs, his free hand coming to rest on your hip, grounding you. "That's it, nice and steady."

As he works, Curtis surprisingly stokes and then keeps up a steady stream of conversation. Mostly it’s inquiry after inquiry, forcing you to focus on finding words, but his deep voice also helps to distract you from the pain. He asks about your life, your interests. You find yourself opening up, sharing more than you intended about your life, your dreams, your fears. His voice continues to provide the counterpoint to the buzz of the tattoo machine.

"You're doing so well," Curtis murmurs, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before returning to his work. "Such a good girl for me."

The praise sends a shiver through you, and you bite your lip to stifle a small moan. Curtis notices, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Sensitive, aren't you?" he says, his voice low. "I like that."

Your cheeks flush, but you can't deny the thrill his words send through you. The pain of the tattoo blends into the sensations he’s evoking as his hands move with practiced precision across your skin.

"So, sugar, what made you come back for more ink?" he asks, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before returning to his work.

You take a shaky breath before answering. "I loved how the first one turned out. And… I guess I wanted to experience it again."

Curtis chuckles, darkly. "Addictive, isn't it? The pain, the permanence... the intimacy of it all."

His words make your heart race, and you're acutely aware of how close he is, how vulnerable you are beneath his hands.

"Speaking of your first time," Curtis continues, the steadying hand that had been at your waist ghosting just a little lower, "Ari seemed quite taken with you. Did you ever give him a call?"

The question catches you off guard, and you feel a flush creep up your neck. "No, I… I didn't," you admit softly.

Curtis's hand stills for a moment, and he looks up at you, his ice blue eyes intense. "No? Now that's interesting. Why not, sugar?"

You swallow hard, unsure how to answer, yet unable to stop the words from flowing. "I... I guess I was nervous," you finally say.

A slow smile spreads across Curtis's face. "Nervous? Of Ari? Or of what you felt?”

Your cheeks flush at his perceptiveness. "Both, maybe," you whisper.

“Or maybe you were waiting for something else?" His hand resumes its work, but the touch his anchor hand seems more deliberate now, each movement charged with unspoken intent.

"I don't know what you mean.”

Curtis chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. "I think you do, sugar. I think you knew exactly what you were doing when you came back here today."

His words hang in the air between you, charged with tension. You can't bring yourself to deny it, can't even find your voice to respond. Curtis seems to take your silence as confirmation.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the silence as Curtis returns his focus to your ribs. You try to steady your breathing, acutely aware of every point of contact between his skin and yours. The pain of the tattoo blends with the heat pooling in your core, creating a heady mix of sensations.

"Tattoo nearly done," Curtis says after what feels like hours.

You let out a shaky breath, a mix of relief and disappointment washing over you. The intense experience is coming to an end, but part you that scares you doesn't want it to.

"Just a few more touches," Curtis murmurs, his eyes focused intently on your skin, and the buzz of the machine continues for a few more minutes.

"There we go," Curtis murmurs. He wipes away the excess ink, then sits back to admire his work. His eyes roam over your exposed skin, a mixture of professional pride and something darker in his gaze. "Want to take a look?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. Curtis helps you sit up, steadying you with a hand on your lower back as you move to face the mirror. Your breath catches in your throat as you see the intricate design now adorning your ribs. The delicate flowers and vines seem to bloom across your skin, following the curves of your body perfectly.

"It's perfect," you whisper, unable to take your eyes off the mirror.

Curtis's smile widens, and his eyes darken. "Of course it is. I knew exactly what you needed."

His words send another shiver through you, but then suddenly you feel the heat of him too close, and he’s pressed right up against your back, planting his large hands on your hips and caging you in.

"You're trembling," Curtis murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you steady against him. "Are you scared, sugar?"

You can't find your voice to answer, your heart pounding in your chest. You're acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies - his broad chest against your back, his strong hands on your hips, the heat of him seeping through your skin.

"Or maybe," he continues, his voice low and dark, "you're excited."

One of his hands slides up your side, carefully avoiding the fresh tattoo, until it comes to rest just below your breast. Your breath hitches, and you see your pupils dilate in the mirror's reflection.

"That's what I thought," Curtis says, satisfaction clear in his tone. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you? Since the moment you walked in.”

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the faint scent of ink and something uniquely him. Your heart races, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you.

"Tell me, sugar," Curtis murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "Did you come back here hoping to see Ari? Or were you hoping it would be me?"

You swallow hard, your mind spinning. "I… I don't know," you manage to whisper.

Curtis chuckles, the sound low and dark. "I think you do know. I think you've been thinking about this for months." His hands slide up and down your sides, careful to avoid the fresh tattoo. "Thinking about what it would be like if you came back. If you let yourself give in."

Your breath hitches. “No.”

“No?” he challenges. His right hand, still gloved, audaciously slips past your waistband and down the front of your panties to cup your pussy. He laughs softly, discovering a growing wetness there. “Yes.”

You gasp as Curtis's hand begins to stroke your most intimate area, your body betraying you with its response. Your mind races, torn between the thrill of his touch and the shock at how quickly things have escalated.

"Wait," you manage to breathe out, your voice shaky. "We shouldn't…"

Curtis pauses, his hand stilling but not withdrawing. "Why not?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Your body is telling me a different story, sugar."

You're acutely aware of how exposed you are, standing there in just your bra with Curtis pressed against your back, his hand between your legs. The mirror reflects your flushed face and wide eyes, Curtis's intense gaze locked on you.

"Someone could walk in," you whisper, a weak protest even to your own ears.

Curtis chuckles darkly. "They could.”

Your mind is spinning, caught between the intense sensations and the voice in your head screaming that this is wrong, that you shouldn't be doing this here, now, with him. But your body betrays you, responding eagerly to his touch.

"Curtis," you manage to whisper, your voice shaky, and tears springing up in your eyes. "We can’t—"

"Shh," he soothes, his free hand coming up to gently grip your throat. Not choking, just holding. "Don't overthink it, sugar. Just feel."

His fingers continue their exploration, finding your clit and circling it slowly. You bite back a moan, plant your hands on the mirror, and your hips rock back against him.

“Fuck, knew you wanted this,” he speaks directly into your ear.

You whimper and shake your head, but then his hand moves up to cover your mouth. “Gotta keep more quiet than that unless you want someone else to join us, sugar.”

Your eyes desperately seek his in the mirror, fear flashing in them, and the tears begin to spill over. There’s a predatory glint in his icy blue gaze.

His fingers continue their skilled ministrations, drawing forth sensations you've never experienced before. Your body betrays you, responding eagerly to his touch despite your mind's protests. You're caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions - fear, excitement, shame, and an overwhelming, undeniable pleasure.

"Look at yourself," Curtis commands softly, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. "See how beautiful you are like this."

You force yourself to look, to really see yourself - flushed cheeks, wide eyes, chest heaving with each ragged breath. Curtis behind you, his large frame dwarfing yours, his hand between your legs, the other still gently but firmly covering your mouth.

Curtis's eyes meet yours in the mirror, his gaze intense and predatory. The fear in your eyes seems to excite him further, his grip on you tightening slightly.

"Don't worry, sugar," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “I knew all those pretty tears were just for show, you want this just as badly as I do, andI've got you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through you. You're acutely aware of how vulnerable you are, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to. And yet, there's a part of you that thrills at the danger, at the forbidden nature of what's happening.

Curtis's fingers continue their skilled exploration, drawing involuntary gasps and moans from you that are muffled by his hand. Each deliberate movement sends waves of sensation coursing through your body, igniting a fire that you never expected to feel. Your body continues to betray you, responding to his touch despite your mind's protests, creating a tumultuous conflict within you. The thrill of the moment is undeniable, yet a flicker of apprehension lingers in the background, whispering the dangers of being caught in such an intimate entanglement, making it impossible to pull away.

"Damn, that’s a pretty sight,” a familiar voice jolts you nearly out of your skin, and you whip your head around to see Ari looming in the entry.

Curtis stops only for a moment and looks over his shoulder at the other man. "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude to interrupt?"

Ari shrugs, all nonchalance, and palms the large bulge pressing at the front of his jeans.

Your heart races, caught between exhilaration and apprehension. The sight of Ari standing there, a blend of curiosity, mischief, and lust in his eyes, adds an element of unpredictability that excites and terrifies you.

Curtis grunts, then says, “I’m not stopping, but I’ll share.”

Your jaw would have dropped to the floor in that moment had Curtis’s hand not been holding it in place, securing your response and anchoring you to the present. The idea of a threesome, tantalizing yet fraught with risk, swirls in your mind. How did this escalate so quickly? The thought of being discovered sends a shiver down your spine, but the allure of the forbidden is intoxicating, pulling you deeper into the moment.

You sob, overwhelmed and afraid, but it’s muffled as Curtis turns your body around with him, his grip firm yet reassuring His fingers are still moving, relentless and sure, and you can hardly focus on anything else. Your mind races through the possibilities, the dangerous thrill of being discovered adding an exhilarating layer to the encounter. Would Ari join in, or would he simply stand by and watch, adding to the intensity of the moment? The idea of indulging in such a forbidden experience fills you with a mix of dread and excitement, as if you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, about to leap into the unknown.

Ari pulls a privacy curtain you had failed to notice across the opening to the booth before taking the few short steps to close the distance between you. This sudden shield from prying eyes heightens the anticipation, transforming the atmosphere into one charged with desire and unspoken possibilities. Ari traces the back of his forefinger down the column of your throat, down your sternum, between your breasts, and then circles around the expanse of your new tattoo, eyes roaming over the beautiful design.

Not to be forgotten, Curtis tweaks your clit, cracking the pleasure that had been mounting like a whip, demanding an orgasm from your body, and you tremble in his arms as you cling to him. Each flick of his fingers sends shivers through you, igniting a fiery response that leaves you gasping for more.

“Knew you were such a good girl,” Ari praises, and your chest surges from his praise, his low, sultry voice invading your mind. Then, he unzips his jeans, the sound echoing in the booth like a promise yet to be fulfilled. He goes to sit on the black leather chair, pushing his pants and boxer briefs down around his ankles, revealing the enticing sight of his big, throbbing cock.

Curtis lifts you with ease and places you in Ari's lap. The transition is seamless, and you find yourself enveloped in the warmth of Ari's embrace. His hands instinctively find their way to your hips, grounding you as you settle in. With Curtis standing close, the dynamic continues to shift and evolve. You can feel the heat radiating from both men, each one eager to exact pleasure, and you hope the fire doesn’t consume you completely.

“Take off your bra,” Ari directs you.

Your eyes widen over his immediate demands, but, nervous as you still are, you don’t hesitate to do as he says. His hands on your hips hold you steady while you reach around to unclasp, and then you let it drop and fall away, biting your lip. Ari groans appreciatively, and grinds your core against his cock. You let out a shuddering breath at the friction, but it’s a singular sensation for only a moment, because then Ari dips his head and takes one of your breasts into his hot, wet mouth, and you gasp. Your fingers tangle immediately into his hair, looking for some kind of anchor.

Vaguely you hear the rustle of fabric from Curtis close behind you, and then you feel the heat of his now naked chest press against your back. He nips lightly at your neck, but then pulls back slightly. He rucks your loose skirt up over your hips, but then he rips the fabric of your panties right off, and you yelp in surprise.

Ari’s quick to muffle your sound by shifting his lips from your breast to your mouth, but his lips and tongue are no less eager, and the kiss is delicious and demanding, and you’re easily almost completely lost in him again. But Curtis has also discarded his gloves, and now his warm, calloused hands move slowly up your thighs before squeezing your hips, then start to knead the flesh of your round ass.

Curtis places a hand between your shoulders and pushes you forward, coaxing you against Ari’s chest. Ari takes the hint and leans back in the reclined chair, pulling you with him. This exposes your most intimate parts to Curtis, and he spreads you open, then presses his tongue flat against your cunt, eliciting a moan that, luckily, is swallowed up by Ari, who’s still eagerly kissing you, and now kneading your breasts in his large hands. Curtis continues to lick and lap at your cunt, but then his tongue begins to move up, and then suddenly he’s tonguing the tight rosebud of your ass, and you whimper and freeze.

Ari stops when you stop, pulling away to look at your face and assess the situation.

Curtis teases you with his tongue for another moment before pausing to pull away as well.

“Not a virgin,” he guesses, “but never had anyone play with your ass, have you, sugar?”

You close your eyes and try to take a steadying breath, your, “no,” soft and barely audible.

“Do you want him to stop?” Ari asks, and you can feel him studying your face.

Your mind is racing, but you remain frozen, unsure of what to say.

Ari brings one hand up to stroke your cheek. You lean into his touch and open your eyes again, but still don’t speak.

“Keep going,” he says to Curtis, and Curtis does.

While Curtis works your tightest hole with his tongue, still splaying your cheeks open, Ari reaches down to slip two fingers into your dripping cunt, and you eagerly rock your hips for more. Ari smiles, then brings you down with his other hand to kiss you again.

When you’re positively humping his hand, Ari pulls back from kissing you again with a darker laugh than you expected, but you’re so far gone between them, you think of stopping or slowing at all now.

“Open your eyes,” he commands.

But it doesn’t register.

He withdraws your fingers and slaps your pussy, making you gasp and groan, and your eyes whip open.

His dark blue irises are barely visible, pupils blown wide with lust, and it just cause another surge of electricity to run through you to your core.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

And then it’s his cock nudging at your entrance.

“Ari,” you groan.

“Since that first fucking minute I saw you in the lobby,” he says. He taps his cock aggressively against your swollen clit, and you keen for him. “Knew you were an innocent little thing, and I wanted to absolutely ruin you.”

You bite your lip, unable to look away from him, and think of that day, too.

“We both wanted to ruin you,” Curtis adds. And his finger takes over where his tongue had been, working gently but insistently into your ass.

You moan softly, but the two men hear it and exchange a glance over your shoulder. Ari looks pleased.

“I didn’t touch you that day, only teased you, enticed you. I knew you’d be back,” he growls. “Shame I didn’t have you on my chair again, but that wasn’t going to stop me.”

He pushes your lips back to his for another devouring kiss, but it’s brief.

“You’re desperate to be filled up, aren’t you?” he asks.

Closing your eyes again, you whimper and drop your forehead to his, but your answer is undeniable. “Yes.”

“You didn’t have to wait this long, but we won’t punish you for that. We’re patient men.”

“It only gave us more time to think of all the ways we’ll take you apart, sugar,” Curtis murmurs against your shoulder, then presses open-mouthed kisses against your hot skin there.

And then Ari is slipping his cock inside of your cunt, slow, insistent, and doesn’t stop until he’s into the hilt, pushing all the air out of your lungs. He’s so big it feels like he’s everywhere, and it takes you concentrating on making your lungs work again to suck in deep breaths, impossibly full of him.

But as full as you feel, it wasn’t everything. Because while Ari was slipping his cock inside you, Curtis had removed his fingers, and now his thick cock was splitting you open and finding room in a hole that had never been filled before, and it was unfamiliar pain, but already pressing into impossible pleasure, and really, you had to press your palms to the leather on either side of Ari’s head and focus on breathing and only breathing if you were going to survive this.

And then they both began to move.

In and out and in and out and inandout.

And you were sure you were going to black out or bliss out from how full you were and all the sensations surging through your body and –

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I make no apologies for this. Send me your medical bills as needed.

[user211201]

Listen Up: Swimmer

--- Originally posted on 2021-04-21 by newyoutf ---

Jon twisted back and forth under the showerhead, singing along to the music blasting from his phone on the counter.

The music lowered in volume for a second, making way for two loud dings. Jon reached out from the stream of water and fumbled with the screen in his wet hands. It was a message from Oliver, his best friend, “Hey bro, got something you should listen to.”

“Bro?” Jon wondered. Since when did Oliver say “bro”? Jon blinked, struggling to think for a moment. Oliver talked like that all the time, he was American after all... wasn’t he?

Attached to the message was an audio file. Jon figured it must have been a new song by one of the pair’s favorite pop divas, perhaps a new leaked track. Jon hit the play button, placed the phone back down, and returned to the hot water.

A harsh static buzz and what sounded like garbled speech boomed from the phone, taking Jon by surprise. The corrupted audio cleared up after a moment and a deep, male voice started.

“Welcome. This audio program is custom designed. Just for you. Ensure you are in a comfortable, private place. You will not want to be disturbed.”

“Oliver,” Jon rolled his eyes, thinking that surely something starting this ridiculous would be some sort of joke or meme. After all, Oliver had always been a dumb joker. “Wait,” Jon felt confused, he could have sworn Oliver was a quiet, twinky lad like himself?

Jon realized couldn’t form a solid impression of his friend in his mind. They met at their university in London and became best friends, bonding over their mutual love of pop music and ogling the campus jocks. But now it was like that reality had been shattered. Those memories gave way for ones of meeting each other at the campus gym shortly after Oliver arrived from the US. Oliver was his best, hot, American friend, right? Jon’s cock twitched at the new image of his friend as he placed his face under the stream of hot water in an attempt to clear his head.

“Relax. Take a deep breath, in and out.”

Jon unwittingly followed the instructions. The frown fell from his face and his body relaxed, taking in the warmth of the water.

“You’re Oliver's best friend. Makes sense, given you’re a total alpha too.”

“Both wha- ah! Ah!”, Jon planted his hands against the wet, tiled wall as the words sent pleasure rippling through his body. He looked down feeling a strong warmth against his leg but it wasn’t the hot water. His semi-hard cock had blasted a rope of cum against his leg. “What the fuck?” Jon mumbled.

“What a coincidence that you’re both six-foot-four. It serves him well in the gym, the same way it serves you well in the water.”

Jon howled in ecstasy, spluttering and moaning, as his five-foot-nine body stretched higher. His soft cock drooled hot cum as it rapidly began to rise. His arms pushed against the wall, lengthening for better performance in the pool. He stepped backward as his head struck the showerhead and rose even higher. Hot water poured down the front of his much longer torso and legs.

“Your shoulders are so broad. Typical of you swimming jocks.”

Unable to resist the command, Jon's shoulders crunched and throbbed, thrusting out larger and bulging with muscle. “God! W- What the fuck i- is... ugh... happening?!” he roared, terrified not just by the growth gripping his body, but the incredible pleasure it wrought on him.

“Those are some long, meaty fucking arms, Jon.”

“F- fuck!” Jon roared, spraying a massive load up the back of the shower feeling his narrow arms explode with thick mounds of muscle, rippling across his biceps and triceps. The growth spread down his arms, his forearms bloating with tight, lean muscle. His wrists cracked as they thickened.

“Hands that big must be useful for pushing through the water.”

Stifled screams rumbled from Jon’s tightly clenched mouth. His hands were pressed against the back of the shower, clicking and twitching as they began to swell across the tiles. The fingers accelerated longer and longer. His palms spread monstrously broad. He flexed his hands, in total awe of their disproportionate size; perfect for pushing through the water.

The experience was like nothing Jon ever felt. A sexual eruption taking place across every cell as the words rewrote his body. “Can’t... resist... so g- good,” Jon grunted, gasping for air.

“You clearly work out for the aesthetics as well, not just the pool. Your shredded chest is proof of that.”

Jon couldn’t even attempt to fight anymore, but nor did he want to. His chest puffed and bulged, distorting the path of the water running across it. The previously non-existent pecs pushed outward from his widening chest. His cock trembled as the changes took hold in his abdomen, causing his flat stomach to erupt with tight, thick abs. Jon gripped his ass, feeling it swell into his huge hands while he erupted cum across the tiles once more.

*“That’s the spirit, Jon. You’re a *stud.”

Jon felt those words echo in his ears and rumble down his throat. Grunts and pants became deeper and deeper as his thickened and voice morphed. His head groaned as it enlarged to fit his frame. Hair began to flourish out of his cheeks and across his upper lip while the mop of medium-length hair on his head retreated, leaving a short, handsome cut in its place. He stroked his cock with one hand and clasped his face with the other feeling his jawline refine and the angles of his face sharpen. He turned to the mirror cabinet, seeing just a sliver of his improved visage. Jon gasped at the sight and immediately ejected another load of cum.

He didn’t just look like a swole swimming jock. He felt like one too. He rejoiced in his mind being filled with thoughts of the pool, weightlifting, spotting his bros at the gym, and fucking them afterward.

“Good to see the bottom half matches the top.”

Jon’s legs trembled. He clutched the slippery tiles harder to hold himself up, the pleasure reverberating through his legs almost too much to bear. Muscles spasmed in his calves, swelling with every little twitch. Muscle wasn’t all that was gracing his legs. Dark hair grew forth from the skin, coating his powerful legs in a layer of fur. Jon swore under his breath, impressed by the hair spreading up and down his legs. He thought about how he refused to shave like other swimmers, he liked the hair, and regardless his superior form needed no extra boost. His body responded to the suggestion, triggering a fine layer of hair to sprout from his forearms, between his pecs, in a trail over his abs and across the tops of his feet.

Memories of the pool, the beach, and victories across university swimming tournaments swarmed his brain. Trophies and medals materialized in the bedroom just next to where he was showering.

“Damn, it’s no surprise you outperform everyone in the water with feet that massive. And you know what they say about that, Jon.”

Every one of the toes on Jon’s size eight feet surged with pleasure. He moaned loudly as they began to push across the floor of the shower while his soles stretched to catch up. He recalled new memories of having large feet, how they propelled him to victory in the pool, and the comments people would make: “Bigfoot”, “You know what they say...”, “Where can you even buy size sixteens?”

“Sixteen?!” he repeated in his mind. The brief shock turned to anticipation as he felt his soles continue to march forward longer and wider, his toes twitching while they reshaped long and meaty. Jon growled aloud as he expelled another load, “God, yeah... so f- fucking... big.”

The jock trembled under the stream of hot water, desperate for sexual release. He looked down as the expanding feet settled into excessively large size sixteens, curling his long toes as his six-inch cock began to quiver in its desperation to grow larger as well. It felt as though it were perpetually hardening, only to then push longer and girthier instead. Jon grasped his wet cock and thrust into his grip hard and repeatedly. He relished in the sensation of the veins bulging and the shaft thickening.

*“I guess what they say really is true, isn’t *it?”

The audio toyed with him, pushing his cock just that little bit longer and pumping it ever so slightly thicker. It pulsed and twitched, gradually and slowly with every breath. His uncut, British foreskin slid further backward, as a larger, blunter head swelled outward. Jon smirked as he groaned and growled, stroking faster and faster, enthralled by the beautiful nine-inch weapon he now possessed.

“Cum.”

“Oh yeah! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jon made three final long, hard tugs on his thick pole before roaring in delight as unspeakable ecstasy filled him. Cum rocketed upward against the water rushing from the showerhead, ejecting what remained of Jon’s old genetic material while orgasm after orgasm pounded his body.

Exhausted and dripping wet, he stepped slowly out of the tub, unsteady on his new legs and feet.

*“Remember to share this recording with your friends*.”

And with that, the playback stopped. Jon looked at himself in the mirror, still shocked, but enraptured with his new body and looks. He grabbed his phone and wiped the water from the screen, struggling to unlock it with his longer fingers. He typed out a reply to Oliver, “That shit was fucking lit mate!”

A few miles away, a sweaty Oliver was busy lifting weights, waiting for his friend to give him some indication that something had happened. He had to place the weight down slowly as his mind blurred for a moment. He saw the images and memories that he had of his friend change and shift. Gone were the images of a quiet little twink, replaced by those of a loud, masculine swimming jock. Oliver smiled cockily realizing what had just happened. Then, as if on cue, his phone vibrated with Jon’s reply. Following was a photo of a huge, semi-hard cock swinging above two gargantuan feet. Oliver felt his own cock stiffen slightly at the image.

“Hell yeah, bro! You should be selling these pics like I do,” Oliver sent in response, getting a deep chuckle out of Jon.

Both men now looked at their phones, horny and pondering who next to share the mysterious audio file with.

[dollyyun]

𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬' 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

RELEASE DATE: Wednesday, 26th June 2024

PAIRING: enha hyung line x fem!reader

GENRE: 18+ (mdni), semi-college au, adulthood, reverse harem, dark themes.

WARNINGS: mentions of christianity, profanities, smoking, mention of drugs, alcohol consumption, violence, blood, murders, yandere & tsundere, manipulation, corruption, toxicity, heavy angst, dubcon themes, unprotected sex (no!), dom hyung line (rip), name calling, degradation, possible voyeurism, mild bondage, gagging, choking, blowjob, fingering, edging, manhandling, spitting kink, orgasm denial, crying, squirting, creampies, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, threesomes (twice), more to be added....

TEASER WORD COUNT: 1.3k

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3.1, PART 3.2, PART 4, PART 5 ✘ SERIES MASTERLIST ✘

The passage of time appears to be slowing down, with the red neon luminosity encompassing you gradually fading into a blur, while the bright sign of 'exit' ahead remains a beacon to your fortitude, but your quest to the road of freedom grows languid as the eventual exertion dawns on your body.

Tears welling in your lower eyelids are a recrudescence of terror, parallel to your inner turmoil that remains unabating, and you feel as though it is eating you alive from the inside, dwindling the hope you so desperately clutch onto.

Your ears perk up at the sound of familiar, heavy-booted steps from not far behind you, eliciting a forlorn cry from you before you force your weary body to pick up the speed, despite the unknown yet lethal substance streaming through your every fibre and taking its major effect on your whole being.

No, this is not how you imagined facing your demise. You never would have thought that one of your worst nightmares had manifested itself and plunged into your reality.

Your skull is throbbing painfully, with blood seeping from the fresh wounds that trickle down the side of your face, while your heart aches tremendously. A sob emerges from the back of your throat before waterworks cascade down on you, but you refuse to allow yourself to die tonight, not when you’re nearly getting the taste of freedom.

Before you know it, you use the force of your body to push the door open as it swings outward violently, and you continue to run on the asphalt ground, having no clue of your current location, while your heaving chest is starting to hurt with how ragged your breathing is that mingles with the sobs.

“Please.” You choke out, your tearful eyes blurring your vision, while you feel as though more needles are piercing into your skull. “Please let all of this be a nightmare.” You manage to whisper in between broken sobs, nearly succumbing to the hyperventilation that renders you unfocused on your surroundings as your body remains in a fight-or-flight mode.

The next thing you know, you bump into a solid chest that nearly has you staggering back if it weren’t for strong arms latching onto your trembling form. The moment your eyes meet his concerned eyes that soon blaze with anger, a frightful shriek tears from your parched throat before you push him away from you, as though he is a disease.

“Princess?” Sunghoon, whose head is fogging with confusion, frowns visibly as he sees the way you are looking at him as though he is a terrifying stranger.

The movements from Jake and Jay catch your heightened sense, prompting you to cower away from them as you back away. “Stay away from me!” You shout at them, the fear is palpable in the tremor of your voice, to which they halt their movements.

“Baby, it’s us!” Jay exclaims while trying his utmost not to give away the tempest of wrath that storms within him upon seeing the state you are in. 

“Lovely…” Jake takes cautious steps towards you, but even his loving, gentle tone is not enough to dispel the betrayal and heartbreak you are still reeling from.

“I said don’t come close to me! Please!” To see you hyperventilating as you sob hard hits them in the face, but what pains them is the terror you exhibit right now because they never wanted you to fear them as though they would really hurt you.

You turn around with the intention to run from them, but this time, Heeseung’s figure is a hindrance as he blocks your way. His hands find their way to hold you firmly while you attempt to thrash and struggle in his captivity.

“Let go of me!” You become relentless, your fear is now eclipsed by anger that stems from the fresh betrayal.

Despite the confusion upon seeing the blazing anger in your crystalline eyes, Heeseung remains calmly collected as he holds you effortlessly yet is unable for you to escape from. “Sweetheart─”

Being utterly overwhelmed and blinded by the maelstrom of pain, betrayal, sadness, and anger, you raise your hand and bring it down to land a harsh slap to his now-stinging cheek, shocking the other three from behind.

“Do you think this is meant to be humorous to you?!” The rage in your voice is unmistakable as it sounds foreign to your ears, but your focus remains on his face as he slowly turns to look at you while you are oblivious to the raging storms in his dark eyes. “Is this really your endgame?! Once you’re satisfied after fucking me, you'll kill me?!”

Heeseung’s deadly silence only seems to fuel your wrath, and so you begin to throw punches into his chest that don't even have any effect on him. “Fight back!” You scream in between sobs, tears relentlessly streaming down your cheeks. “If you want to kill me, do it now!”

“Y/N, stop.” Jake and Jay appear from behind, intervening as they grab you away from Heeseung’s defeated grasps while you continue to struggle and fight against their strong hold valiantly despite feeling debilitated.

“What are you talking about?” Heeseung’s calm voice manages to reach your ears despite the sound of your hysteria.

“Yeah, what do you mean by killing you, lovely?” Jake asks with a frown as soon as you shoot him a glare. “We would never do such a thing─”

Miraculously, you manage to escape from their grasps, and your glaring eyes penetrate into each of them. “Don’t lie to me! I know you’re the ones who kidnapped me and brought me to this God-forsaken place, and for what? To kill me!”

“We didn’t!” Jay objects vehemently, disbelief lacing his tone. “Why would we ever want to kill you?”

“Liar!” You retort before breaking down again, the sound of your cries only fuels their anger to hunt down whoever dared to hurt you. “If you weren’t the ones back there, then how did you even know where I was?”

“I installed a tracker on your phone. It’s the reason why we managed to track your location.” Jake steps forward, his softening eyes seem to balm your hysteric nerves. “But you have to believe us, love. We would never do anything to jeopardise your life.”

You open your mouth to speak, but a whimper comes instead as you feel the familiar pain plummeting into your skull, prompting you to clutch your still-bleeding head, and Sunghoon, being the nearest to you, holds you steady against him just as your body sways lightly.

“You’re still bleeding, princess.” Sunghoon murmurs, his gentle tone and his touch send you into a whirlwind of confusion. Disappointment seeps through him as you push him away while your mind is waging a battle of internal conflict, recalling the girls’ words about them, but at the same time, your love for them remains palpable, which only makes your head spin.

“Don’t touch me.” You protest weakly as you attempt to yank your arm from Heeseung’s firm grasp, but the substances injected into you that flow in your system wholly revoke the remnants of your vitality, rendering you debilitated as you find yourself leaning into him.

Without a word, Heeseung effortlessly carries you in a bridal style, with your whole body going limp as your consciousness slips away faster than you like before the darkness welcomes you once more.

“Gather all the knights from your respective houses. We’ll be having a meeting tomorrow morning.” Heeseung orders calmly, causing the three to exchange glances. “All of them, and not a single person is to be left out.”

“You got it.” Jake gives him a firm nod.

Heeseung catches Sunghoon and Jay’s eyes, and they immediately understand his deadly intent. “Find those fuckers inside and do what you need to do. Bring their heads to me.”

[melodic-haze]

you’re cooking so hard w those fics,,, may I request some sub clorinde?

one of the scenarios in the fic can be where she wears a vibrator on her shift 🙏 (semi-public ofc)

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Clorinde x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: semi-public 🫶, use of toys (the vibe's silly and magical bc this is a magical world and I can do what I want), consensual sexual corruption

☆ — NOTES: Why is this so long anyway DUDE THANK YOU 🙏🙏🙏🙏 I try my best to hashtag serve the cuntry. I somehow brought Navia into it as well I hope you don't mind 😭😭😭 NOT in the pair though, just like a chunk of the post ig

Ohhh my god Clorinde looks SOOOO fun to toy with 🫶🫶🫶 your MIND anon

She takes her job so seriously but when she's off the clock she's so silly she's so unserious like just LOOK at her with Navia???? I love her

I think you two joke around when it's just the two of you in the comfort of your own home when the whole matter pops up. Maybe she's like prepping dinner for the two of you (if you can cook as well you probably have a rotation) as it happens

It was therapeutic, watching Clorinde practically glide around the kitchen in such an organised manner. She often said that her skills as the Champion Duelist and her skills as a home chef were synonymous together in multiple ways, though despite her meaning it as a jest her proficiency with both activities was undoubtedly unmatched. She said you were a bit biased too, but you paid no heed.

"..You look so much more relaxed here, compared to when you're out for work," you muse as you observed her.

To which she looks up at you momentarily before looking back down at the vegetables she was chopping up, her speed and efficiency not slipping up in any way despite the light distraction, "A guard cannot necessarily be seen as.. well, whimsical in order to be taken seriously."

"Yeah, but you're THE Champion Duelist. Surely that allows you some form of leeway towards having to act all serious every time."

"I'm afraid not, mon ange." She shakes her head with a small smile, "What brought this up all of a sudden?"

You shrugged, "I dunno. I guess whenever I see you around, I always see you so.. focused and stoic."

"You mean to say I'm boring when we are outside?"

"You aren't? But you could do with some loosening up."

She looks up again with an amused eyebrow raise, "Between the two of us, my body is much more limber compared to yours."

"You ass!" You scoffed, crossing your arms in mock annoyance, "Go back to cutting carrots instead of taking potshots at me."

"Taking shots is my specialty, though? And I was already done with the task."

"Clorinde!"

The electro wielder chuckled lightly before moving to pour the vegetable mix into the pan, "Still, I fail to see your point."

"My point is," you push yourself off the wall you had been leaning on and move closer to your girlfriend, "I wanna see you all cute during your job at least once."

"Am I not 'cute' enough for you?"

"You are! But I feel like I should be intimidated too. Because, you know, I don't really want to be put in the spotlight for some kinda crime."

"Uh huh. Say I do agree with you then; what do you propose I do?" She is genuinely curious at first, but when she sees you smile the way you do that's when she gets suspicious, "..I know that look, mon cœur. You want to do something risqué."

You hum as if pondering your next response while your arms wrap around her waist, though with the way she turns around with a knowing look and a swift move of turning the stove strength all the way down, you know that she doesn't believe that innocent bout of 'thinking' one bit.

"Do I? You really think so?"

"I know so." And she leans to kiss your cheek, "My skills in observation combined with my knowledge of your every habit isn't useless, you know.

"Hmm... Well, then." Your fingers snuck underneath the fabric of her shirt and traced nonsensical shapes on her skin as you spoke, "I did find something—an item—that could help you.. de-stress during work."

You know she took the hint when you looked her vibrant purple eyes. Perhaps you could've sworn them glow like the element she has command over.

But when she asks you of it—

"And what may this.. item be?"

—you both know full well that that is the only thing she has control over when you're involved.

When she finds out that you want to stuff a vibrator in her for the whole day as she works, she has to give herself time to process it. Like, really? While she's supposed to stay vigilant in case something wrong happens??? Like be serious wth is she gonna do when she's all dumb and distracted and something goes awfully wrong??????

All you say is that while you'd wanna try it out to see what happens, you won't force her to do so.........and against her better judgement, she takes it back. Not only does she want to make you happy and that she wants to prove that she isn't a coward, she.. is a little (a lot) interested in what may happen. Plus "it will prove to be somewhat of a fun challenge", she says, which yk whatever works for her

She learns to regret that come (lmao) the next day when it's actually put into practice

You found this specific vibe from a wandering seller, you see. Powered by a mix of different elements and with the usage of their reactions, it came in a pair—one that was now deep inside her and the other in your pocket, ready for you to hold onto and simply think on the intensity of the bullet's vibrations and effects

Its control range was rather far too, so it's not as if you even had to be in the city to control it. You wanted to see how she deals with such a situation though, so the most you do is carry on with your day instead of constantly following her around (but you do bump into her 'on accident' quite a few times though)

At first it starts out relatively fine for her. It's a manageable feeling, with it interchanging between a weak pace to something slightly faster—she can ignore it with her masterful discipline. Hell, she's even thinking that you might actually be taking it easy on her bc of her earlier concerns which.. how nice of you!!!

Except she's WRONG❗️❗️❗️ You're not being nice, you're biding your time. She probably should've been suspicious but she trusted you unconditionally which would be so cute and flattering at any other moment.........but right now it was so deliciously naive of her, to just let her guard down with you like that

You're slowly but surely testing the waters by playing with the intensity beyond its lowest settings; having it slowly incline nd decline, making it spike up, even manipulating the pattern of its vibrations within your mind. And you can tell that every mental command is successfully transferred when the gem you hold pulses with a faint feeling of warmth that passes after a very brief moment

You can't see her half the time whenever you're off doing something else but maybe that's what makes it better, especially when you see her and you make a point to keep out of her line of sight. She looks around for you like a frazzled animal that's trying to seem composed and yet you know she's becoming anything but from the way she subtly jolts to attention every time you change the vibe's directions, all endearingly paranoid over what you do next as you change the settings again and again and again

Despite the risk and the paranoia and everything though? As much as she wants to deny it, there is an ever increasing pool of arousal in her panties. It's not just from the vibrator, however—it's from the possible risk of getting caught partaking in the sinful act of walking around with a sex toy stuffed inside of her. She can't believe it, but the thrill of the risk and the overthinking is definitely not doing her any favours in terms of trying to keep calm

It's when she has a certain exchange that has her ABSOLUTELY ruined. She had spotted Navia during one of her breaks the same time that the other had clocked onto her too. The head of the Spina di Rosula walked up to her with a smile and a friendly greeting and in no time at all, they get to talking the minutes away

Catching up to Navia again without such dreadful tension from before was definitely a relief. It was as if they had chatted about everything and nothing at all at the same time, with the both of them laughing lightly. The exchange was certainly a welcome distraction, both from her job and the bullet-shaped vibrator that hit and teased her sensitive spots every now and again—you had definitely become braver as time went on, but you weren't going to break her composure just yet.

..Or well, really, she realised that she probably shouldn't have given it any thought when her eyes see you watching her at a distance. She trails off in the midst of her sentence as time seemed to slow to a stop when your lips curl up into an all-too-familiar expression.

Before Navia can even ask her if she's okay or try to break her out of her sudden reverie, Clorinde flinches and almost keels over at the sudden EXTREME increase of speed and force and-- is that a temperature increase too? She doesn't react quietly either—she bites back a yelp, managing a strangled gasp instead. Was this what you were aiming for the entire time? To build it all up until the most inopportune time??

Navia was undoubtedly worried, her hands immediately dropping her parasol to hold her friend steady, "Clorinde?! What happened? Are you hurt?"

The duelist shook her head in an attempt to clear her head but the ever-shifting movement inside her didn't allow that. So instead she tried her best to answer as unaffected as possible, despite her seemingly dramatic display, "Yes, I-- mm.. I'm alright. Just a sudden migraine, is all. Perhaps I've been-- working too hard."

"Whatever did I tell you about working yourself to the bone," the blonde asks, though she doesn't look fully convinced that it's just a migraine, "maybe you should retire for the day. I can tell your--"

"No! It's alright," she rushes out, "I will be fine after some time, you need not worry about me."

"But--"

"Do you not think I can handle myself?"

"I do, but if a migraine gets you such a violent reaction, then surely that's a cause for concern. Are friends not allowed to be worried for each other?"

They are, except this isn't really a migraine she's suffering from!!

(She doesn't know whether she loves or hates the fact that her not being able to say anything about her predicament to her good friend gets her going even more.)

"She probably needs a little rest, somewhere where the sun isn't hitting her eyes."

"Y/N!"

Clorinde looks to you approaching behind the blonde and making yourself known with a happy greeting and she can't help but narrow her eyes at you despite the vibrator in her cunt trying to take all her focus away from her.. or maybe it was due to exactly that, to which your smile widens just a tad further at the effect you have on her.

"Yes, that would be a good place for me to recover. In fact," she keeps her eyes on you as she speaks, "they can take it-- mnf.. take it here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, no need to worry. I will talk to you again s-- ..soon, Navia."

Soon enough, you all part ways (you with Clorinde in tow), leaving a very confused and suspicious Navia alone where you once stood. Neither of you say anything, though as you both reach a deserted alley somewhere, sun blocked by the towering buildings around you, that's when she snaps.

And it is such a lovely thing to witness.

By snapping, I don't mean that she cums right away. I mean she's all over you, gloved hands grasping onto your body and hastily pleading for you to finally help her take the edge off

You're so absolutely mean for doing what you did!!! She says she regrets ever saying yes to this plan and entertaining you like this, to which you laugh at her face. Sure, it would've been a cruel reaction to her distress.. if she weren't so addled with lust; her eyes dark and pupils blown wide, her panties unbelievably wet

It gets worse when you whisper things to her as well such as "you definitely enjoyed it" and "do you think Navia knew? Would you have wanted her to know?" bc even when she shakes her head vehemently and denies it, you can feel her pussy pulsing as you taunt her.........

But then you pull your hand back and Clorinde's looking at you in a mix of frustration and confusion, a complete far cry from her ever-so-composed demeanour on a normal day

She asks you why. Does she need to beg even more? Do you want her to do anything else? She needs this but she's also very aware you're still outside, despite this corner of the area being practically abandoned, so it both gives her a thrill AND a sense of urgency

Your answer? Not one she expected, but should have probably saw coming from a mile away: you want her to cum with the toy and herself only. She's right, this IS still a public space.. so obviously such close proximity would be VERY suspicious, right? And nobody would be able to see the toy buzzing in her, so surely it'd be the best solution

She tries to protest, but you don't budge. Hell, threaten to turn it off for the rest of the day and she'll keel over and do exactly what you ask her to do

So you manipulate the vibrator, up close and personal this time, and you relish in the restricted moans and desperate breaths she lets out as she essentially fucks herself in the alleyway with your help. As the vibe bends to your will within her in different ways, she took her glove off one of her hands with her teeth in a desperate attempt to not dirty her visible clothing before her now-ungloved hand darts into her panties to rub her clit and pleasure herself to you

It's not long when she practically explodes as the setting goes the highest it's ever been, her orgasm SO intense that it has her seeing stars and actually dropping to the ground if it weren't for you immediately rushing over to catch her on time (and maybe you get a light shock of electro too, much to your chagrin, but really it's technically your fault so 🤷‍♀️). You use the control gem to help her with her high, slowly decreasing its intensity until the after-shock is reduced to a few twitches from her here and there

She's practically a lifeless form for a few mins and you can't help but laugh at the situation. She lifts her head up, absolutely unimpressed at your amusement, though a small smile makes her way onto her lips anyway

When she's gained enough strength to hold herself up without falling (mostly bc you whine after a while ab how she's heavy, to which she slaps you up in the head lightly and tells you it's your fault lmao), you both make sure she looks presentable enough to actually go back in public again. You asked her if she wanted to skip instead but she's so duty-bound that she doesn't gaf if she feels fucked-out, she WILL continue her duties

But like. Let's be real though. Esp when you told her she could take the toy out bc you're more than satisfied but she wanted to actually keep it in? You both know that not only will you both have a round two of sorts when you get back home, but this won't necessarily be the last time you'll use this toy after today

You could say she found a love for it 🤷‍♀️ not like she'd ever explicitly admit it when she's not all dumbed out for you in the comfort of your own home

She doesn't even really need to, not with that display earlier

[aizawasbrazybaby]

❥𓂃𓏧Freak Like Me

𖦹Warnings: Corrupt Cop!Nanami x Fem!Reader, Pet names? (Calls reader Beautiful a lot), Semi-public (car sex), p in v sex, Oral (fem receiving), Very brief mention of blood, Cervix kissing, Dubcon (consent is implied but he doesn’t ask before touching reader)

𖦹Word Count: 1.7k (I had to restrain myself from making it longer🥲)

🫧: Hello everyone sorry for any mistakes I always try to proof read at least twice before posting. Also I’ll be attempting to upload here and WP on Fridays at 5pm est.🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Summaryᐕ: It was supposed to be a late night traffic stop…only he was off duty and everyone knows what happens after dark.

Air moved deeply through your lungs harshly exiting your nose. Those fluorescent blue and red lights flashed obnoxiously bright, forcing your eyes to shut into a squint. The officer’s tall figure strutted over to your old compact sedan that was honestly hanging on by the grace of god herself. His blonde hair and white skin contrasted the chilled bitter darkness. Fingers tapped the window and signed for it to be rolled down. Your eyes hit the back of your head as you followed the lawful command.

And holy fuck…

A chill ran up your spine. He looked like the finest piece of art man could make- so much so you had to do a double take at the patrol car to see if it was the real deal. That this wasn’t an elaborate prank by some shitty tv show or idiotic influencers that didn’t know how illegal impersonating an officer was.

“Pretty late for a lady like you to be out here dontcha think,” he glanced at the bloody scrubs in your passenger seat, “long night?”

“That easy to tell?” your fingers rubbed at the dark circles under both eyes, “sorry but is your bodycam on?”

A strange mix of a laugh and hum rumbled in his throat, “license and registration ma’am.”

A demand.

Mint intertwined in his cool breath as he let out an annoyed sigh waiting for you to gather your things. As if you initiated the traffic stop on him. He softly snatched at the forms you handed to him.

“What has you out here so late, nurse ____?” His gaze flickered back to the passenger seat.

“Doctor,” you corrected.

“What?”

“It’s Dr._____ I’m not a nurse.”

He grinned, “well, many apologies for my ignorance.” You looked in his narrow eyes and something shifted in you. In both of you. Your pants felt almost suffocating on your throbbing pussy as that honey-like essence pooled to your center.

“I-I just got off work at the hospital,” you pointed behind you, “third twelve hour shift this week. I pulled over to get some sleep, heard somewhere that driving tired is as bad as driving drunk.”

Why’s his stare gotta be so intense? Your mind raced. Eyes lowering to his beautifully plump lips. Watching his tongue swipe teasingly slow over the bottom one before it was held between his teeth.

Good fucking God.

“Have you been drinking tonight?” You could have swore a glimpse of a grin flashed just as quickly as it had disappeared . His calloused fingers softly traced your jawline, thumb running across your lips. A line was crossed. Several lines. But shit it’s been so long since you’d been caressed. And the man before you was so alluring. You leaned into Nanami’s touch- your eyes fluttering shut for a second before burning into his.

“No, officer.”

“Why don’t you step out for me beautiful,” his voice low and seductive. Embarrassment burned through you from how quickly you obeyed. Horny and stupid. Desperate and horny. He looked you up and down then grabbed your hands. Cold to the touch but you didn’t pull away, placing them behind your head, “Lock your fingers.”

Holy hell he was close.

You could feel the heat emanating from his mouth. Circling you he stopped behind, pressing against your back. His belt. The service belt was nowhere to be found. Pressure started at the wrist and worked its way to your waist. Outlining the shape. His fingers trailed over your breasts. so. very. slow. Each finger took its time feeling the buds that hardened under.

Desperation made itself known from a slight gasp that morphed into a whimper, “shit.”

Nanami groaned in response. He walked back around, hands lowering to the fat of your ass gripping and squeezing. He placed a kiss on your cheek and nipped at your jaw.

“Sir,” you glanced at the abandoned strip of road, “not out here.”

His hand pulled to the front rubbing your pussy through your thin sweats. His digits worked their way inside feeling how wet you were. Snatching a moan from your throat that your own ears struggled to recognize. No panties. A bold move on your end.

“Get in the backseat,” his teeth caught on your bottom lip. An arm rounded your waist pulling you away from your car before opening the door for you. He blocked your head from hitting the top of the doorway like he would if sticking you in his squad truck.

Before you could speak your sweats were around your ankles. His eyes looked back at you as he kissed up your thigh, “want me to stop?”

“No!” Your voice was under a shout. Loud. Desperate. And beyond fucking horny for the stranger with his upper half leaning between your legs. The other hanging out the car.

He chuckled, “okay doctor.” His tongue ran up your slit catching the enticing liquid that glazed parts of your skin. Ecstasy swam through your veins and straight to where the man was now sucking your sensitive clit. Hands sliding through his healthy locks he moaned on your cunt. You hissed at the feeling.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

You sat your head up seeing Nanami dig in your pocket and pull out your phone. He flashed the screen and your heart skipped a beat. “Don’t.” From his shit eating grin you knew he wasn’t gonna listen. He firmly pressed the green answer and tossed you the phone.

“Hey JESS,” you stifled the moan that clawed to be set free. The cop pushed your thighs apart, thrusting his middle and ring fingers inside. You squeezed your eyes shut at the sudden intrusion. Savoring that pain spiked with pleasure.

Is that mommy? Your six year old asked sleepily in the background.

Hey Miss.____ I was just checkin on ya. It’s pretty late just wanted to see if everything was okay

“Y-yes hon everything’s fine just got off work a bit late.”

Nanami unbuttoned his slacks, releasing his erection. Lining himself to your pussy that clenched around nothing. He smiled from ear to ear slowly inching himself deep.

That’s good. Baby Kiri keeps askin for ya wanna say good night before I put her to bed?

“No!” you lowered your tone, taking a fistful of Kento’s shirt, “no need I’ll s-see her when I g-get home.”

He took the phone muting and keeping it on speaker, “lemme hear you beautiful,” his pace increased. Squelching and your squeals filled the car, “fuck darling n-nice and loud. That’s it.”

“Nanami,” you whimpered, “fuck pleaseee.” You dragged.

“Uh uh Kento when I’m fucking you,” he smirked.

Why not? Hello? ___ are you there? Is everything okay?

He thrust one last time before plunging his cock deep inside. And fuck. Fuck. fuck. fuck. His tip was pressing against your cervix. Your legs started to shake slightly but enough where he noticed. And you clenching tight around him had his eyes rolling back and breathing heavy.

Unmute. “I-I’m fine Jess. Just in a bit of a s-situation right now.”

His hips rocked slowly bringing that tight coil closer. His teeth glided over your throat, “gonna drive me crazy hang up that damn phone,” you could sense his lust from his deep whisper.

Should I send someone out there? What’s happening?

“No need, ‘mtaking good care of her,” he growled at the nanny.

Who is this? Where’s ___??

“Gonna have to, ah, call you b-back.” You tried your best not to let it out but that moan slipped through and no doubt she picked up. Nanami took your phone tossing it atop those dirty scrubs.

Oh…ohh, it clicked. She hung up immediately.

He slammed his hips into yours. Faster. Stronger. Until that coil grew so tight in the both of you that you were shouting each other's names as you came. His hot cum filling you up so full and you leaving your cream all over him that is splattered just below his belly button. Drained of all his energy and stamina he rocked into you riding out the high to both of your orgasms.

“Kento,” you said breathlessly, “thank you.” Of course he didn’t know what you were thanking him for. Didn’t know you’d been so deprived from a man’s touch. You craved some kind of sexual interaction. Didn’t know he relieved so much of the pent up stress from work and being a single mother.

“Any time beautiful.” He panted but managed to keep a smile on his handsome face. He pulled out looking for something, anything to help clean you up. When his eyes landed on you, you pointed to the front seat.

“Got a few baby wipes in the glove compartment.”

He nodded. You watched as he climbed out zippering his pants as his head fell back. Taking in the cool night breeze. God he was something to behold. Walking around the front he took out the pack of wipes and jogged back to you.

“Does anything hurt? Are you alright?” He asked back to his monotone as he wiped your thighs and intimate parts.

“I’m alright.”

“Think you can walk?” he shimmied your sweats back up, shoving something in the pocket. Before you could even answer he pulled you to the edge of the car by your legs making you yelp. He held you like a bride before placing you in the driver seat.

“Hope so.” You said quietly. His hand grabbed the back of your head through the window pulling you in a kiss. Long and passionate. If you knew anything it was that this man was gonna be the death of you. You felt yourself getting wet all over again.

“G’night…officer Nanami.” You looked deeply in his eyes.

“Get home safe.” He didn’t smile or break the contact. He climbed back in his car shutting off the lights and starting his car back up. Digging in your pocket you pulled out his business card that had his number written neatly in blue pen on the backside. Your mouth gaped open and looked out your window as he was passing you. Driving slow he seen the card in your hand and winked at you. That shit eating grin back on his lips.

Staring daggers back at the card you wondered how long you were really out for.

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; The King's Whore (Thorin x Fem!Reader)

Summary - Before reclaiming Erebor, the king had propositioned you to become his personal whore, a proposition which was rather beneficial on both sides. However, it appears you have forgotten who owns you and now all of Erebor and its' visitors must know that you are the king's whore.

Warnings - Smut, afab reader, female reader, degradation, harassment, xenophobia (brief), possessiveness, teasing, slapping, choking, bodily fluids, unprotected sex, spanking (brief), kinda-dom!thorin(?),kinda-dom!reader(?), semi-public sex, being called a whore (an unhealthy amount of times), thorin whimpering, creampie, (brief) mention of a womb.

Pronouns & Pov - She/her, third-person-ish

Word Count - 4,100+

A/N - An old smut from my old Tumblr account, I honestly do not remember a single word I wrote back then...it's good to be back <3 (I swapped phones so I no longer have the collage I originally used with this, I will make a new one soon)

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

It had been mere months since the painstakingly long journey to reclaim the kingdom of Erebor had come to fruition. The terrifying battle nearly took your lover and his beloved nephews from this realm but by the grace of the gods, you had managed to swoop in and save them one by one. The scars on your body, ranging from large to small were a reminder of how lucky all of you were to be breathing.

A soft smile graced your lips at the thought of each dwarf sleeping peacefully within the large stone walls, walls that shielded out everyone else except for you. You were the only exception when it came to humans, according to the company you had traveled with, all doubts had ceased to exist from their minds though you could not say the same for the rest of their people.

Some had shown you great hospitality, it often debated if it were for your association to the king or for your bravery on the battlefield, while others showed you relentless cruelty. Shared cruelty both you and a rather familiar she-elf had grown to endure, none thinking of how the pair of you had thrown your lives away for the safety of their people yet they were often quick to judge on how those who stood before you did nothing for those before them.

A sudden frown spread upon your lips at the sudden reminder of those awful words the pair of you were often called, many ranging from outrageous to simply hissing 'human' or 'elf' in your directions, though there was one supposed insult that always forced a knowing grin onto your soft lips. The king's whore.

Little had they known, you had earned this title far before you had stepped foot into Erebor. They would never know nor accept that it was the king's suggestion to aid him during his sleepless nights, to give him momentary relief up against a tree, or to share your tastes upon each other's tongue.

No, to them you corrupted their poor king the moment the battle was over for your selfish gain, many reminding you through a slum of insults they would never accept you and you would never be their queen. A title you did not care for and you could easily have cast away with a few words to your lover, as you had made clear to him and all of Erebor; the title of their queen was pathetic compared to being his whore.

Many believed being his queen would give them more power than some measly whore could ever gain yet here you were, sitting across some of the most powerful rules in middle earth as they sought out your opinion, a simple whore, to aid them for future conquests. On top of keeping the king's bed warm, you kept their kingdom and many other kingdoms safe yet no one would ever credit you with that.

"Is there anything you wish to add, Y/N?" The soft tone suddenly anchored you back to reality, a quiet hum escaping your lips as your eyes raised the rouge-colored fabric that hung loosely around your lap. The form-fitting outfit, one you had chosen to get a rise out of the dwarven king, a form of revenge for him leaving you craving his touch and taste all so he could go back to his pointless paperwork.

"If all is well with his highness, then I have nothing else to add." Your melodic words falling gracefully upon his ears, the corners of his slightly chapped lips turning upwards into a proud smile. "Then it is settled." The dwarven king announced, slamming his bare palm against the dark-oak table allowing the men to rise from their seats to commune with one another.

Many coming to his side to compliment him on retrieving his home, a compliment he often reflected onto you yet this time he didn't. As he glanced across the table, his calloused hand stretched out, prepared to introduce you in a way he often did, he noticed you were talking to another. Not just another dwarf, they knew better than to do so without his permission, but another man. This alone would be fine if you were not flirting with him!

The tips of your fingers softly kissing his lightly scar-tattered arms as your plump lips curved upwards into a smile, your jewel-colored eyes sparkling as you took in each boring word the man spoke. To the king's displeasure, you wrapped a soft palm around his upper arm and allowed a soft giggle to escape your lips, a similar action that had sparked his proposal for you to be his whore and only his.

"Excuse me." The muttered words barely caught his company's ears as he quickly rose, his limbs moving on their own towards your direction as the light behind his eyes quickly began to match the shade of your dress. "And that's when I-oh hello your highness," The male began, a knowing smile painted upon his lips. "I was just telling your whore about my latest journey." The words flying out of his mouth far too comfortably, the palm which loosely wrapped around his upper arm suddenly released whilst you backed away in disgust. How dare he call you that? Only your king could refer to you as such!

"I beg your pardon?" The words passing through the king's gritted teeth, though he was furious at you for flirting with another male, the rage he had felt when your title slipped through his lips was far more powerful. "Your whore, how much gold for a night with her?" A smug grin spread upon his grimy face, a grin he wished to wipe clean from his face with his sword. "My whore, is not for sale. She will not warm anyone else's bed other than my own." The low growl sending a sharp shiver down your spine, you could not deny the effect his possessiveness had upon you.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as the king inched closer to the lower-class male, eyes burning blazes far more powerful than Smaug's breath. "You shall refer to her as Y/N or her highness and only as such, the title of my whore is meant for myself and myself alone." His fingers tightly clung around his thumb, chest rising and falling quickly as his gaze burnt further holes into his competitor's skull. "If you wish to leave Erebor intact, I highly suggest you do so. Understood?" The opposite male quickly bobbed his head, face draining of all color the moment the king's harsh tone caught his ear.

"Good, now get out of my sight." And with those words, the male quickly scurried off leaving you with the fuming king. "Outside, now." Another low growl further dampened the undergarments that rested between your thighs. Without the chance to respond, he quickly dragged you out of the meeting halls without the notice nor the care of others around him.

"What did you think you were doing?" Hissing as he shoved you up against the cold stones, your words quickly catching in your throat as the glint in his eyes grew darker. "You know what, my whore? I simply do not care now, it appears someone has forgotten who she belongs to." The hot air on the nape of your bare neck forced you to swallow a mouthful of air, the burning fury within his ocean eyes furthering the lust you had towards him.

"No clever comment? Or are you too overwhelmed by your pathetic need to be full of cock already?" The sensation of his rough calloused hand inching up your thigh caused your breath to hitch in the back of your throat, your lust-filled eyes boring back into his enraged ones. "Thorin, we should stop. Someone could spot us-" "If they do let them watch, you are mine and all of middle earth will know it when I get done with you." The once silent halls filled with the sudden tearing of your panties, the damped fabric sprawled onto the murky ground beneath you.

A small pathetic gasp escaped your plump lips as his fingertips grazed your sensitive clit, excruciatingly sensitive due to his highness's neglect towards it in favor of his work. "Look at you, so responsive already. Such a good whore for me." A proud smile spread upon his lips as a singular thick finger traced a path down your drenched cunt, the very tip slowly delving inside of your soaked walls before slipping away.

An irritated sigh slipped through your lips as you attempted to lower yourself down upon it, your movements quickly stalled by his harsh grasp digging into your left hip. "Ah, ah, ah." He tutted pulling his finger further away from your soaked cunt. "Only good whores get pleasure, have you been a good whore?" "I always am-ah!" A harsh thwack against your clit forced your entire body to tremble. "Wrong answer." His cock stirring against the tight fabric he called trousers at your pathetic whines.

The continued thwacks against your sopping pussy echoed throughout the empty halls, soft whines and desperate pleads filled the king's ears amongst his torturous touches. "Oh please, your highness! I'll do anything you desire, please use me. I need it so badly." The pathetic excuse for words choked out of your swollen lips, each thwack digging your teeth further into the tip of your upper lip. "Anything?" A mischievous smirk spread upon his lips, your neediness was a sight, a rare one yet one he adored more than any treasure in all of middle earth.

The blur of your beautiful hair caught his eyes, he had trained you to be his perfect cock whore so well. "Face the wall, legs spread wide." His hot breath was suddenly removed from your neck as he backed away from you. "Now." His command jolted you up from the wall, legs trembling in an attempt to keep you steady as you quickly spun around.

"Such a good little whore." He hummed lowly while he kneaded your plump arse. "My good little whore." The soft tickle of his beard against your neck allowed a small giggle to slip between your lips. Finally, you were getting what you wanted. Arching your back downwards, you pressed your covered arse further into his calloused palms receiving an appreciative groan from him. "Needy today, aren't we?" Though you could not see it, you could feel the smile upon his lips due to the amusement dripping from his words.

"I am always needy for you, my king." A silent whine disrupting your words as the king's rough hands roamed beneath your skirts, a harsh thwack on your plump arse forced a choked moan out of your lips. "Must you tease me?" You whined slightly louder than desired, all care you had for getting caught slowly inching out of your mind as you thought of the inches between the king's legs.

"Patience, my dear whore." The king hummed lowly as his hands continued to further explore your desperate form, gliding over each curve and ounce of your body. Each bump and rough patch of skin received a momentary hover of the king's hands, some ounces in small circles, before gliding to the next mass of flesh, admiring and loving each scar and imperfection your body held.

Though it typically warmed your heart knowing how much his highness adored you and the things you have done for him, now was not the time you wanted him to be gentle with you nor receive any praises from him. You needed him badly, you needed him now.

Further pressing your plump arse into his large palm, you slowly began to roll your hips in a desperate attempt for him to gift you with any form of pleasure. "You know you want to." The words dripping with lust, your low sultry tone causing his aching cock to twitch against those damn restraints he called trousers.

"Is that so? What else do I want to do, if you are so clever?" As you opened your mouth to answer his inquiry you felt the sudden shift of your skirts going upwards. "Go on, whore. Speak." "I-oh fuck!" Your attempt to form words dying off on your tongue at the sudden pressure between your legs, the tip of his throbbing cock slowly pressing into your soaked cunt without fair warning.

A small gasp of pleasure escaping your lips as his throbbing cock continued to push further inside of you, the gentle stretch of your walls allowed your eyes to loop upwards into your skull. "Shit, Thorin." The pathetic little mewls from his pulsating cock deep within you sounded more heavenly than any instrument's tune before, a pleased grin spreading upon his lips as he bucked his hips upwards allowing his cock to further stretch out your soaking cunt.

"Such a good little whore, taking all of me so easily." The muttered words against your neck sending a shiver down your spine, the soft tickle of his beard against your bare neck was accompanied by gentle nips at the curve of your soft neck. The bucking of his hips stalled at a gentle pace allowing you time to adjust to the heavenly stretch inside of you, each fiber of his being burning as he restrained himself from further carving his cock inside of you.

The attempts to allow you to adjust quickly failed as you backed your hips against his, your soaking cunt squeezing around his throbbing cock with each movement. "Fuck." He groaned tilting his head backward, eyes closed at the heavenly sensation as his hands roamed up your body before resting snugly around your throat.

Your eyes widening at the gentle pressure that surrounded your neck, the warmth which radiated off of his palms soothing the faint bite marks given mere moments before. "Be a good whore and stay still." The roughness in his voice further drenching your aching cunt, a tone you had heard once before he pulled out of you and left you there, desperate and begging for the smallest touch from him.

The squelch of your drench cunt accompanied the sound of skin slapping against each other throughout the stone halls, your pleased moans ever so slightly muffled by the king's hands clenching around your throat. The pair tightening as his movements grew faster, his cock hitting the most sensitive spots deep within you with every stroke.

Though he was not mighty when it came to his height, his cock was far different, much larger and thicker than you had ever dreamt of. The faint sting of it stretching you out upon entrance far too heavenly for words to describe, a statement you had once told him only to be met by his mocking as you sobbed on his throbbing cock that very night at the intensive stretch he gave you.

"So fucking tight, so tight for me." He growled lowly into your ear as the thrusts of his hips became harder and quicker, your hands desperately clawing against the smooth walls as each rough thrust further carved his cock into your inner walls. "All for you, Thorin." The words choked out weakly as your eyes looped upwards within your skull, your mouth agape as each thrust allowed a moan to escape.

"Who's pussy is this? Fucking say it." Another low growl greeted your ease whilst he rammed his cock deeper in your depth, hitting the most sensitive part of your core with each powerful stroke. "It's your pussy, Thorin. It's all yours." You sobbed loudly, a familiar tingling spreading up from your toes throughout your entire body as a knot formed within the pit of your belly.

"What was that, whore? I couldn't hear you!" The pressure against your neck slightly eases before a harsh thwack fell upon your arse, your body jolting forwards at the sudden sensation as a whimper suddenly left your lips. "You own my pussy, Thorin!" You yelped out, your loud cries bouncing throughout the large halls. Any concern of your peers hearing your slutty cries melted out of your pleasure-filled mind, your only thoughts on how harshly the king was treating your pussy. The knot within your stomach tightening further, your cunt clenching around the massive cock buried within you.

"AH!" His rough thumb began toying with your throbbing bundle of nerves, his animalistic thrusts refusing to ease up on your beaten pussy as your body trembled before him. Sweaty palms gliding down the cold walls, back arched further towards him as his calloused hand clenched tighter around your throat. "Fuck, I can't." You choked out another whine as both of his movements became sloppier, soft grunts escaping his lips as your pussy began to pulsate around his swollen cock.

"Cum." He commanded lowly, his hips beginning to burn at the pace of his animalistic thrusts. Each thrust ramming his cock at the most sensitive spot in your body, his thumb perfectly circling the tense bundle of nerves between your legs. "I can't." He snarled at your pathetic whine, the circles from his thumb quickly removed by a harsh smack against your throbbing clit.

"I said fucking cum, whore! Do it, cum for me. Now!" A loud yell escaping your lips as your body trembled, the static sensation spreading upon your body as the knot within your belly finally burst. His sturdy hand moving from your clit to your chest to keep your trembling form steady whilst you gushed around his cock, a proud smile spread upon his lips as his thrusts began to slow. "That's a good whore, cumming for her king." He cooed softly, his hand moving from your neck to caress your cheek whilst your walls fluttered around him.

The cool air filled your lungs as your gasps returned to steady breaths, your tense shoulders slumping towards your sides as a blissful look spread across your face. "I've got you." His words came out as a soft chuckle as he pressed a gentle kiss upon your neck, a soft nod of the head signaling him you were prepared to go again.

"Are you sure, Y/N? You nearly collapsed there." The back of his rough hand gently caressing your cheek. "Please, Thorin. You need your release as well." A mischievous smile spreading upon your lips, without warning you began to move forwards before lowering yourself back down on his length allowing a bliss-filled moan to slip through both of your lips.

The temporarily silent halls quickly filled back with the sound of skin slapping against each other yet again, the much softer rhythm accompanied by the faint moans from the king. "Fuck, you feel so good." He moaned into your ear as you met his soft thrusts by pushing your ass further against him, the hands which once held your neck now squeezing one of yours and gripping the flesh on your hip.

Each throb and thrust allowed your body to tremble, the aftershock of your orgasm still rang fresh throughout your body. His thrusts slowed down in speed as he squeezed your palm tightly, eyes glued shut allowing him to further absorb the sensations of your squelching pussy.

"You fuck me so good, my king." You cooed, squeezing his palm back as you further bounced yourself on his cock knowing well he was not short from falling into the depths of his pleasure, the slow teasing circles your hips would trace whilst on the base of his cock sent a loud groan throughout the halls.

"Fuck, Y/N. If you keep that up I'll-" A soft whimper slipping through his lips as you released his hand from yours, both palms planted firmly on the wall as you continued to ram yourself back against his throbbing cock. "Do it, my king. Cum for me." The sight of your arse bouncing upon his cock and your encouraging words almost too much for the lust-stricken king.

His sturdy arms wrapping around your waist tightly as he held you steady, his pace gradually picking up as his whimpers rang throughout Erebor. "Fuck, I want to fill you up so badly." His whines in your ear were your favorite tune, much like your desperate moans and whimpers to him, it was one no instrument could compare to nor recreate.

"You want to fill up your whore's pussy? Would that make my king happy?" You hummed out softly between moans, the heavy slap of skin against each other speeding up as he bobbed his head against your neck. "Please." His pathetic little whines making your pussy flutter around him, a single hand trailing down back towards your cunt and greeting your bundle of nerves yet again.

"Then do it, your highness. Fill me up with your cum." The moment that heavenly tune left your lips he began to plow into you faster, sweat glistening upon his forehead as his thumb swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves, desperate to get one more orgasm out of you during his own.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" The loud cries of the king ringing out throughout his kingdom as his grip around your waist tightened, his body slumping further into yours as his hips bucked roughly into yours, his thumb still twiddling around that sensitive bundle of nerves he adored so deeply bringing you to yet another blinding orgasm.

White-hot ribbons painting the deepest depths within your womb, the overwhelming sensation of being filled to the brim made your nails puncture his toned arms. A soft hiss escaped his lips at the new puncture wounds, ones he would later claim he received during battle, and hoped the stirring of his cock would not give the truth away.

Trembling bodies clinging onto one another tightly, your nails still digging into his toned flesh while your lips curved up into a looped smile. "Thank you." He muttered softly, kissing the nook of your neck between pants for the cooling air. "Anytime, my king." You cooed happily, glazed-over eyes staring back at one another as your soft lips met his.

A tender moment erasing all images of the day before from both minds, simple orgasmic peace within you was all the new king needed in these silent moments, moments he wished he wasn't required to end. "Ready to return to our guests, my whore?" He hummed softly, pulling his softened cock out of your warm depths. A soft disappointed whimper escaped your lips at the sudden departure, wishing to have nothing more but a few more moments or hours with him.

"If it were up to me, my king, we wouldn't return till neither of us could walk." The soft mutter barely catching his ear, your attention now focused on fixing your disheveled appearance before facing the men in the other room. "After this, you will have me all to yourself until the next full moon." His lips gracing yours again for another few blissful seconds, the soft sensation easing all tension and worries from your body.

"I suppose I can bear with our guests for a few moments longer." A pleased smile creeping up onto your face causing the king to shake his head, both knowing well this would not be the first outburst towards him.

"Come along then." The sturdy thumps of his heavy boots ringing throughout the halls as you walked by his side, hands tightly wrapped around the other. "Oh, and before I forget." Pausing a few feet from the large metal doors in front of you, watching curiously as his opposite hand delved into his furs. "Remember, I own you, whore." Your body froze seeing your soaked panties in his clutches, a mischievous glint sparkling within his ocean orbs whilst he quickly tucked it away.

The soft clicks of his boots brought you out of your shocked daze alongside the sudden trickle of cum rolling down your inner thighs, a heavy heat quickly burning beneath your cheeks as you rushed after the mischievous king. "Thorin! Give those back to me this instant!" Your yells bouncing off the walls whilst you attempted to grab within his robes, his amused chuckles only fueling your desperate attempts to cover your bare cunt.

"You said it yourself, my lovely whore. I own your pussy and as the owner of it, I want it bare at all times." The smug grinning king pressed a soft kiss upon your cheek before waltzing into the meeting room ever so calmly as if him pounding into you mere moments ago was simply a figment of your imagination, you trailing close behind him with your gaze pointed towards the floor.

His hot cum further staining your inner thighs as you took your spot next to him, a calm smile spread upon your lips as you remembered his words. 'you will have me all to yourself until the next full moon.' How he would regret his actions at nightfall, if he wished to play dirty you could as well.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Rewrite >

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 2

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw.

one.

Two. 二

It’s a week later, when you see him again. 

It's out on the winding streets near his house, on your day off. You’re taking a jog, when he roars by in his white Lamborghini, so close to your side of the road that you feel the pull of the wind off the aerodynamic car. 

He’s enjoying the feeling of power and control behind the wheel, before he sees you, in your workout clothes and all sweaty in the muggy summer heat. He feels a spear of possessiveness rip through him, and ultimately it’s the reason he slams on the breaks, whipping in reverse back to you, the supercar growling in agreement with his mood. “It’s too hot out here. You should use the gym in the house,” he tells you rather tersely. 

The only gym you know of in the house is his personal workout space–you hadn’t dreamed it could be used by the staff, hadn’t even thought to ask. When you just look back at him with owlish eyes, catching your breath with hands on your hips, he adds with annoyance, “And the roads are too narrow, people drive like maniacs. Someone might hit you.”

This is where you grin, flashing him an insouciant smile, but managing to keep your commentary on his own driving to yourself. “Thank you, Sir…” you pant. “But I like being outside.” There’s no better way to get to know a place, than looking at it while on foot. You love the lush streets of this neighborhood, the towering trees and greenery, the shining blue sea in the distance. It's way more interesting than running like a hamster on a treadmill.

Donaka, however, is not amused. He finds he hates the thought of other men seeing you running around in those tight clothes, looking so…edible...and sweaty. Your defiance only fuels his desire to exert his will over you. “It’s too dangerous,” he insists in a firm, authoritarian tone.

Maybe because it’s your day off, you feel braver than usual, but you just lift your eyebrows at him and smile. “It’s fine.” 

“I’ll give you a ride back. Get in.” 

The thought of putting your sweaty behind in your boss’s $500,000 car–even if it is ugly to boot–literally horrifies you. 

“I don't want to get your nice car dirty. I'll be home soon."

You finger wave, and jog off, hoping that will be the end of the exchange. 

With narrowed eyes he glares at your receding form in his rearview mirror. It’s the first time you’ve really defied him, and as annoyed as he is, he finds himself semi-hard from this interaction. He resists the urge to run you down and make you obey him. The thought actually makes him shudder to himself. 

He’d known you were going to be fun, but he hadn’t anticipated just how much.

He lives for the challenge of breaking the strong, and corrupting the innocent. It was looking like you were both those things, and by his reckoning–your days of independence were numbered. Soon…you would be his docile little pet, curled up at his feet.

[brittle-doughie]

I just thought of the concept of y/n cookie that was baked with a phenix feather, giving them the ability to bounce back after crumbling in a flash of flames, and also having fiery wings like one.

They must have lived during the reign of the beasts even before they were corrupted. Of course they liked to joke around with them and even spend most of their days with them, Burning spice most likely liked them the most due to being very durable in fights and being able to bounce back even after being crumbled.

But when the beasts became corrupted, y/n cookie used their powers to protect the other cookies from the wrath of the beasts, becoming a known hero in beast-yeast and even other places around Crispia. Sadly theres only so much one can handle.

In pure desperation and simply being exhausted after fighting for so long, they just fell down and didn’t get up, even their wings and embers becoming dim.

After the beasts realized they really might have killed whom they loved and admired they couldn’t even get a chance at making things better before they were sealed away.

But as years passed, Y/n cookie finally regained enough of their energy to wake up, though their embers have not fully came back, even if they can have the power they had back in their prime, they just remain as their charred and wilted form so no one can recognize them.

But when the gingerbrave and the squad take them to beast-yeast, the beasts can’t fully recognize y/n cookie but feel some deja-vu.

Talk about a reunion with a semi-crispy birb

[loraliewritesthings]

Concept: inspired by @bluerosefox and they're work about danny demanding the jokers soul. I wanted to write the joker and Danny's interactions too.

Danny groaned as the next set of paperwork was slipped onto his desk.

Joker would soon croak.

He would slip on his own banana peel and fall down the stairs.

Gothem would celebrate that night with alcohol and music. The ghost zone would brace itself for the trial...

Honestly it was bound to happen. It wasn't that danny was surprised. But it would be a long drawn out case. When a human dies they become more of what they are after all.

It's like their souls are condensed to make up their ghostly form. As if their passions were their hearts.

For some that was amazing. Fiery passion can be useful in all sorts of situations, but for joker this would be a nightmare come true.

The ghost looked at him his eyes worried, almost teary.

"Should I alarm the Gothamites of the infinite realms."

Danny thought for a minute, let out a low hum, and thought some more.

He knew what he could do in theory.

If he was to judge the jokers soul in the room that he dies in, the ghost zone would be free from his wrath.

But if the joker defeated him in combat he shuddered at what that monster would do with all the power in the afterlife.

He didn't really think joker could take him down, but knowing others thought the same for him and his predecessor....

So Danny was left with one option.

"Call my knights," he commanded

The fright knight was captain. Head of the army and keeper of the soul shredder.

Danny only needed to borrow it, but when he explained the predicament the ghost dropped to his knees, the metal clang sound echoed through the office. The fright knight began to speak,

"You wish to spare me from looking into the eyes of evil, and I thank you my liege. But I can not and shall not send you alone to your second death."

Danny told him to rise to get off the dirty floor, but he continued.

"As captain of the guards my liege is only under my obligation to the knights under me."

Danny remembered the conversation that made that a possibility. That changed the priority of obligation completely and totally, hopefully for once and for all.

Danny hid a small smile and told him to get of the floor again

............

It didn't take long to find joker amoung the living. He was surrounded by weeping souls unable to move on.

Danny clutched his scale. A gift from clockwork, to a "good and fair king to continue to strive to be better."

Clockwork had, in the end taken up the role of advisor. As such he stood by Danny's right side, his captain to the left.

When they entered the room he was already dead.

The soul of the man was laughing hysterically.

He got louder when he spotted them.

Danny sighed and despite the noise tried to read him his rights.

He argued with each and every one in nonsensical logic.

The third time Danny slapped him across his ghostly face, leaving frostbite and cold crystals on his white cheek.

"I am not batman, I am death. I will not play as he does, I am the ghost king, death himself."

After the rights were read Danny peared into his soul, sticky and tar like, it made him feel ill. He put on the extra gauntlet brought and separated the dead from his deeds.

It felt like lifting a semi, and weighed him down about a foot.

The joker cackled with pride. Danny wondered if he didn't understand the gravity of the situation, or if he didn't care.

Then with the other hand he did the same to himself.

Both sets of deeds were set on the scale at the same time. Danny barely caught the peice of his own ghostly form.

The scale broke the table on its way down, jokers sludgelike, corrupted deeds stuck to it. The scale hadn't twitched once to the other side.

The knights went to pick up the piece of soul and put it back. It took three of them.

Danny put his deeds back were they belonged.

When everything was dead and done, joker was declared guilty and chained down, something he escaped out the window and around the block to avoid.

Danny took out the soul shredder.

It wasn't the fright knights job to play executioner.

Then the joker was blindfolded, he made this difficult via attempted biting, but once it was done, it was done.

Danny didn't ask for a last word.

He took the sword and swung as he had been taught. And as the jokers very soul was torn, the bells rang in Gotham for the first time in Years.

He didn't miss.

[thelesbododo]

This is a headcanon circulating around a sensitive topic and one that you may not agree with so if you don't want to read it please scroll.

This headcanon revolves around the character Osamu Dazai and the concept of sexual assault

I believe that Dazai was sexually assaulted as a child

This has nothing to do with Mori and takes place long before they even meet

While it is true we know little to nothing of BSD Dazai's past, it is also true that it is highly likely the Irl author and his No Longer Human counterpart was SA'd

There are two specific pieces of writing are evidence of this

"My true nature, however, was one diametrically opposed to the role of the mischievous imp. Already by that time I had been taught a lamentable thing by the maids and manservants; I was being corrupted. I now think that to perpetrate such a thing on a small child is the ugliest, vilest, cruelest crime a human being can commit. But I endured it. I even felt as if it enabled me to see one more particular aspect of human beings. I smiled in my weakness. If I had formed the habit of telling the truth I might perhaps have been able to confide unabashedly to my father or mother about the crime, but I could not fully understand even my own parents. To appeal for help to any human being - I could expect nothing from that expedient. Supposing I complained to my father or my mother, or to the police, the government - I wondered if in the end I would not be argued into silence by someone in good graces with the world, by the excuses of which the world approved.It is only too obvious that favoritism inevitably exists: it would have been useless to complain to human beings. So I said nothing of the truth. I felt I had no choice but to endure whatever came my way and go on playing the clown"

- No Longer Human

"I ceased being a child soon after entering grade school. It was then that my younger brother’s nurse taught me something that took my breath away. It was a beautiful summer day, and the grass by the vacant house out back had grown tall and dense. I must have been about seven, and my brother’s nurse could not have been more than thirteen or fourteen. My brother was three years younger than I, and the nurse shooed him off. She said, ‘Go get some leaf grass’ - that’s our word for clover back home. Then she added, ‘And make sure it’s got four leaves too.’ After he left, she put her arms around me and we started rolling around in the tall grass. Thereafter we would play our secret little game in the storehouse or in one of the closets."

- Memories

Both No Longer Human and Memories are semi-autobiographies, meaning they're somewhat based in truth

I can't speak from experience but SA has a big effect on the lives of the survivors

Some of thes effects include;

Sleeping or Eating disorders

Dazai canoniclly has issues sleeping and there are scenes that imply he has issues with and/or doesn't see the point in eating, at one point saying that it is "so much trouble"

Nightmares

There is a specific scene within one kf the light novels where Kunikida asks if Dazai has nightmares.

(Unfortunately I can't find the exact moment so I can't quote it so if anyone can find it please let me know)

Self-hatred

It might not be clearly stated that he hates himself but ay the same time its rather clear that he does

Suicidal thoughts or self-harm

He is a suicidal maniac

Riskier sexual behaviors such as having many partners

He canoniclly has had quite a lot of lovers

Substance abuse

The one scene we see of his apartment we see that there is more alcohol than furniture (it's also a popular hc that Dazai smokes which makes sense considering his past with the pm and that irl author smoked)

Another moment to mention was when he seduced the nurse (which technically counted as SA too but that's not the point of this)

I'm probably gonna end it here because it's late and I'm tired but anyone willing to add or correct anything please go ahead and I hoped you enjoyed my hc

[gretavanlace]

Stars Collide

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, adult themes, semi public sexual acts, dirty talk, pet names, digital penetration, etc.

First, special thanks to this ask who got my gears turning, I know it isn’t exactly what you asked for, but I hope you love it all the same. Second, I asked for josh pics and ya’ll 👏 came 👏 through 👏 Thank you so much for taking the time to help out with my little request, you guys are the greatest! They were all incredible, but in the end @jakekiszkasbelly-button killed it with this stunning pic featuring a camera flare-halo that stole my heart. Just look at him!

Photo credit to the lovely @indigo-starcatcher

You wake with a start, eyes wide with drowsy confusion, and he thinks you’re adorable. Like a tiny baby bunny, startled in the brush by rustling leaves. It makes him want to scoop you up, to hold you cupped in his hands, safe from the world. To peer down at you and soothe your nerves softly. To pet you and marvel at your softness, your warmth….

It also makes him long to corrupt all that innocence. To strip it away down to the bones of what you’re really capable of. That wicked glint in your eye that appears when there’s no one to bear witness but him - he wants to see it.

“Josh?” Your voice is gritty with the impromptu slumber you’d fallen into after the show. Curled up like a cat in one corner of the couch in the corner of his dressing room. He hadn’t the heart to disturb you.

Instead, he’d lost the satin suit and showered, and was now slipped into something a little more pedestrian, scribbling lyrics and ideas upon the lined pages of his notebook, sipping from a glass filled with honey-laced whiskey.

He speaks softly, as is so often his way “I’m here, princess.”

Your gaze swings over to him, and he watches the tension leave your form and loves you just a little bit more. They way you find solace in his presence softens his heart indescribably.

“It’s so quiet.” You sigh, arms reaching for the ceiling in a dramatic, feline stretch. “Where is everyone? Did I sleep through the apocalypse?”

He laughs gently, eyes trained on the page where he’s finishing a rough sketch to present to wardrobe. You’re right to ask questions, he knows. Normally the energy backstage is electric before a show, and even more so after. Voices booming from all directions, golf carts grinding up and down the halls, equipment being dragged across concrete, shouts of congratulations and instructions. The rock and roll circus of live wire sound is easily tuned out as seasoned as you all are. Silence, on the other hand, is deafening.

“They’ve all gone back to the hotel.” He shrugs, setting everything aside in order to focus on you. He loves to watch you do anything, but witnessing you inch your way out of floating dreams deserves his full attention. “I told them we’d just call a car. Wanted to let you sleep.”

You shimmy your shoulders in a mock shudder. “This feels weird. It’s way too quiet.”

A smile that it feels like he can’t help, shapes his lips beautifully. You resemble a fallen angel, all wrinkled skirt and tangled hair, a groupie who just clawed her way out of the pit, disheveled and out of breath, all for him. “It is sort of weird, isn’t it?”

An idea lights his face up, urging an unsure giggle out of your sleepy chest before he’s even shared what he’s thinking.

“You want to go walk around a little? It’ll be like being at school after a play. Remember that? When the halls and classrooms were dark and it felt like you shouldn’t be there…when it felt like some strange, alien, terrain…remember?”

His enthusiasm is catching, “No, I don’t remember that…I wasn’t a theater nerd.” You toss a tasseled throw pillow at him and, in retaliation, he rises and grabs your hands, tugging you to your feet.

“That’s what’s wrong with you, my love.” He nudges you closer to your shoes and smooths out your clothes while you toe them on. “Too much time bouncing around in your little cheerleader uniform and not enough time down in the trenches with the drama club dreck.”

“I wasn’t a cheerleader and you damn well know it.” You roll your eyes with love and swing open the door to find the hall desolate and dimly lit. “You don’t think we’re completely alone in here, do you?”

“Nah,” he steps out behind you. “They’d kick us out before all that. But even if they missed us, there’d be security. Still, probably the closest to alone we’re ever gonna be.”

You spin around, grabbing up his hand tightly in both of yours…the spirited fire in your eyes lighting his own. “Let’s go check out the stage. Think anyone will stop us?”

“Pfft,” he scoffs, waving you off like he can’t believe you even said such a thing. “Do you have any idea who I am, princess?”

“Humble, aren’t you, Kiszka?” You kiss the air at him and trot off ahead in the wrong direction.

“Hey, Lewis and Clark?” He calls out smugly, “Stage is this way.”

~

“Look at all these seats,” you marvel, staring out at a sea of now empty chairs feeling nearly worshipful. An incredible talent stands beside you. Warm as the sun, and just as revered. You’d kneel at his feet, a peasant before her king, if it might please him…though he would likely despise it.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s thinking the same thing about you. Wondering at your beauty, and how it threatens to steal the breath from his lungs, even in the shadows of the darkened arena. Loving you and your gorgeous soul. Adoring your light. You are an angel. His angel. His princess.

“You fill these seats,” you shake your head, amazed by him as if he’s brand new. “Ever think about that? You and your brothers, you fill these seats. It’s incredible what you guys do. I’ll never get enough of it.”

He sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder. “You don’t get bored with it? Same show night after night? Rehearsal after rehearsal?”

“Same jokes…” you tease sweetly, “champagne, caviar, anyone?”

“Shut up,” he squeezes you with a quiet chuckle, “I haven’t used that one in a while. It’s a classic, though.”

“You look like a god, you know?” You’ve fallen hushed, picturing the way he shines, “Divine, a graven image come to life. Sometimes it’s like…it’s like I forget I even know you. You aren’t my Josh, how could that breathtaking spirit glittering under lights be mine? You’re magic.”

“Not to negate the poetry in which you’ve just showered me, but it makes my dick hard when you talk like that.” His lips have found the spot just below your earlobe that makes you shiver.

“Yeah?” You’ve begun swaying along with him to some inaudible song it seems you both can hear. “Well, what doesn’t make your dick hard?”

“Hey!” He nips at the side of your throat in punishment. “I put it away for this tour.”

You gasp and tingle beneath his kiss, but hold fast to your footing. “Mmm-hmm. We’ll see how long that lasts. You’ll get tired of tucking. Plus, you like it when they look.”

Now, his arms have loosened to allow his hands to explore the silken skin of your stomach…palms searching and slow, hidden below your shirt. “Maybe I do like it. Maybe there’s no maybe about it.” He pulls you closer and there is his cock, hard and inviting, no longer concealed behind a stage costume, but pressing into the small of your back like an offering. “Do you like it? When they look? When they want what’s yours? When they want to fuck what’s yours?”

He wants you to say yes. He wants to know that you find some sort of perverse pleasure in it, the same way he does. He wants you to love their need as much as he does. He wants you to be secure in his love enough to enjoy it all.

And he’s in luck.

“I do like it when they look. Sometimes it makes me want to go out there and drop to my knees right in front of them,” you confess, listening to his breathing pick up, “makes me want to suck your cock right in front of them. To show them that you don’t only sound pretty when you sing.”

He’s toying with the button on your skirt now, like he’s contemplating unfastening them, like he’s wrestling with the idea of something he knows he shouldn’t want.

And he is. He’s thinking about laying you right down, of giving it to you right there on the catwalk beneath both of your feet. He’s imagining how lovely you’d sound given the acoustics, he’s wondering how loud he could allow you to be. His beautiful mind is pondering how open you might be to the idea, whether you’d think about the risk of getting caught, whether you’d care even if you did think about it.

“When do I sound pretty, princess? Besides when I sing?” He gives in to how badly he wants you, but forgoes the buttons, choosing to slip his hand under your skirt from behind, instead. “Hm? Tell me.”

“Josh,” it squeaks out of you, and he’s never loved the sound of his own name more. His fingers inch under the hem of your panties in reward.

“You sound pretty when you can’t catch your breath,” the pads of his fingers circle your trembling entrance, gathering your warm, slick, desire, as his opposite forearm snakes around your throat to hold you in place. He listens with rapt attention as you whisper his praises. “And when you moan. When you get close and start to whimper, that’s pretty…the filthy things you say, pretty…even prettier when you cum. I think about it all the time, the way you sound.”

He sinks into you, curling and stroking, petting you from the inside. “Wish they could hear you. All those beautiful little whines when you’re right on the edge. You’re a star, princess. You’re a fucking star.”

Thankful for his centering hold on you, you reach back, gripping his thigh for a moment before grabbing at his cock as your body rolls and arches, free hand squeezing viciously at your breast, urgent and frantic in your need.

With a kiss bestowed upon your temple he brings his lips to the shell of your ear and hums, “Reach down and touch your clit. Rub her just right while I finger fuck your sweet little cunt. Want you to feel good. Can you do that, baby? Can you feel good for me?”

A hurried nod accompanies a breathy gasp of his name as he works you over on stage, on display like art for the gaze of anyone who might happen upon the both of you.

You can’t imagine caring any less. You want this, and you want it now. Let them see.

“Be a good girl and close your eyes, princess.” Your lids drift shut, instantly obeying his gentle command. “You listen so well. My princess likes to make me proud, doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” you thrust your hips forward, wanting, needing, him deeper still.

“I’m honored, my love.” His lips are kissing over your cheek, nuzzling and pecking tenderly as he fucks against that heavenly spot deep inside that makes you want to scream. “Keep your eyes closed. Picture them out there. Watching you. Watching you flush and squirm. Watching me want you, watching me touch you, watching me take you apart. Wanting to be you. Wanting to be the girl up here with her cunt wrapped up tight and wet around my fingers…making such a pretty mess of me.”

“Fuck,” the obscenity flits off your tongue as you gush into his palm.

“Yeah?” He taunts, biting tingles into your dewy skin. “You like that? Show them, princess. Show them what a gorgeous girl you are when I make you cum. C’mon, show them how pretty my favorite star shines.”

“Josh, please,” you’re balanced upon the razor, praying to be sliced open and bared to him. It’s so close, but…

“Please what, princess?” He’s rocking his clothed cock against the swell of your ass from behind, fucking those perfect, insistent, fingers into you at a delicious clip, coaxing you nearer and nearer as you soak his skin and your thighs. “Tell me what you need. I’ll give it to you, baby, I’ll fucking give it to you. You know I will.”

Your fingernails want to bury into his flesh, but you’re careful not to leave marks. “I’m gonna cum…” it breathes out of you wildly, as an uncontrollable desperation steps in to steal your sense. “I’m gonna cum. Talk to me, Josh. Talk to me while I cum for you. I want your voice…talk me through it.”

A feral sound growls out of him, but it dissolves into something weak, as though he can’t handle you. “I’ll talk to you princess, don’t you worry that pretty fucking head. I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you. You feel that?”

He tightens his grip, holding you upright, and you fuck against his hand faster in reply, thrusting your hand back to bury into, and pull at, his curls “Yeah you do. My girl feels it. She knows. She knows I’ve got her, and she’s gonna cum pretty just for me, isn’t she?”

You explode into sensation in response. Sparks fly and batter themselves against your nerve endings as you coil up sung around his pumping fingers…pouring and dripping against his skin like warm, floral bath water.

“There you go, sweet girl…” he praises softly, in contrast with the relentless pace his hand is working away at you. “You let it all go, alright? Yes, baby, that’s it. That’s it. Let it out, princess, just for me, let it all out. good girl, fucking sing for me just like that.”

You’re wailing into the empty space, likely alerting anyone still wandering the halls, but you can’t hear yourself and he can’t be bothered to care.

His voice carries you through, groaning your praises as he ruts his aching cock against you, holding you fast and safe in his embrace until you fall limp, a rag doll with his blissful fingers still filling her throbbing cunt.

“That’s my girl, princess…” he kisses along the curve of your jaw, bringing you down gingerly. “So, so good. You’re an angel.”

Head now descending from the rumbling clouds of the storm he’s created, you realize suddenly what you’re faced with, “Josh, I was so loud…we have to go.”

“Not now,” he protests, languidly slipping his fingers in and out of you still.

“Yes, now.” Your thighs tighten, barring his movement, until he shakes out of his stupor.

“Okay, Okay…” he lowers your skirt and sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking you from his wrist and inner forearm as you begin yanking him towards the stage exit. “But I’m about to make sure the whole hotel knows how pretty you can sing, too, princess. You’re a star.”

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