#show us your pin collection

[twistedhypersonicnavigator]

My pin collection now has a place to be when I'm washing my vest.

Most of my LGBTQIA+ pins went with my eldest to college though. I still got my they/them pin though. My eldest has a he/they pin.

Show us your pins!

[thewingedwolf]

one goofy ass thing i like about my job is we all really like having staff feedback after programs (like after in service, after summer reading, etc) because it just makes it easier to make it actually helpful and easier next time around and that’s all we want right, like PERSONALLY i don’t want to be anxious about a program and dreading it all year, which means i get to do what i Love which is offer my opinion constructively so i can be like “i think some people just don’t understand paylocity, it is a little confusing & for them, going through that app is this scary time sink so they don’t open it ever.” and no one is taking it personally because five other people wrote in “beanstack scares me” and “i’m not using teams” and we can just adjust our expectations of our older coworkers instead of writing people up for it akskd.

[vanillyanmocattio]

Agere sensories - visuals! (things I see!)

Seeking:

fairy lights, night lamps, aquarium lamps, lava lamps, LED strips, christmas lights

online you can search up toy commercials, toy unboxing, pinterest, or the website that you're on right now, Tumblr! however make sure your blocked tags and phrases are secured before going through social media, especially as a little

if you're feeling confident, visit toy stores, libraries' kids sections, playgrounds! they're very stimulating, but remember to stay respectful on your visits :)

There's more to artsy life than coloring books! Bead bracelets, clay, stickers, collecting various things, journaling, baby books, finger painting, glitter!

To my fem leaning regressors, hairclips, jewelry, bright make-up (I do not recommend kids make-up as it doesn't have regulations, use adult make up in a childish way), animal headbands! To my neutral/masc regressors, pins, patches, funky shoelaces, sticker tattoos, keychains! Decorate yourself to stimulate yourself on gloomy days!

get food for kids! More colorful, maybe with a cute animal or a smile or dinos, the pretty juice bottles with cartoons? don't get me started. You can also get shape cutters for your veggies/sandwiches

stimboards, gifs!

customize your devices! Wallpapers, keyboards, AOD, widgets! You can even use gifs!

decorate your room and gear too! Coloring pages or other craft you're proud of, showing your favorite toys (if you're safe) colorful rugs! Make custom pacis, add stickers to your bottles, add cute labels!

stim toys, glow in the dark toys! Water toys, squishy balls with colors in them, orbeez, snowglobes, slime!

Avoidant:

Have nap times! They don't have to be a nap time, but you can make an hour to yourself, covering the windows and turning off the lights

There are settings on modern devices specifically targeted for visuals. Lower the brightness, get yourself a dark mode, have eye safety on

Get yourself fuzzy nighttime blindfolds, cute sunglasses, hats or hoodies that will limit your eye view (be careful to be protected, but functional if you're outside)

this is universal for any sensory suppression, but items for babies are your best friends if you're looking for less eye straining gear. (Especially with the beige mom trend being more popular, ha ha)

if you still want to watch baby shows, check low-stimulation lists. Also, usually shows directed at younger age range are slower. I also find vintage cartoons less overwhelming (but they're not guaranteed to be always slow and not stimulating)

You can order online instead of throwing yourself out to the chaotic, overwhelming stores

limit your screentime! Short-form content is easily overwhelming, and staring into a bright screen for x hours doesn't do your eyes a favor. It's okay to need breaks and not always be up to date with everything

if possible, pick safe times to do your errands where there's not a lot of people, like weekend mornings.

have a list of safe cartoons, safe colors, safe places, or other "safe" sensories. It's sometimes better to know what you're comfortable with!

remember, if it gets too much, it is always okay to back out. This is YOUR coping mechanism and nobody else's, it's up to YOU what you're okay and not okay with

[paxtito]

and they were roommates

pairings: tara x reader (g!p)

word count: 2717

warnings: smut 18+, masturbating, oral (r receiving), p in v, swearing

summary: tara is out running errands, she’d be gone for hours- or so you thought

a/n: i’m working on multiple request atm— wenclair x reader one and the radiohead song (i’m just listening and reading the song to get an idea atm) also thank you to the anon for requesting this and their kind words!

The dorm is quiet, unusually so, and it’s kind of nice. Tara had mentioned heading out for the day—something about running errands and meeting up with Sam—and while you’re used to the hum of her presence, the silence isn’t unwelcome.

You glance around the shared space. It’s small but cozy, a mix of her personality and yours crammed into every corner. Her side of the room is meticulously organized—her books stacked neatly, her bed made with precision. In contrast, your side looks… well, lived-in. A pile of clothes rests precariously on your desk chair, and your bed is a haphazard mess of blankets and pillows.

You plop onto your bed, phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly through social media. Without Tara around, you’re left to your own devices—literally. You snort at a meme, sending it to her out of habit.

“That’s stupid,” she’d probably reply, but there’d be a hint of fondness in it.

After a while, you glance at the clock. Noon. The day stretches ahead, and you find yourself feeling restless. You could clean up your side of the room, but… nah. Instead, you wander over to Tara’s desk.

Her books catch your eye first—old classics mixed with crime thrillers and a few surprisingly heartfelt poetry collections. You pick one up, flipping through the pages idly. A note scribbled in the margin catches your attention, her handwriting sharp and deliberate: “This makes no sense. Why didn’t he just leave?”

You chuckle softly. Even in her annotations, Tara’s blunt honesty shines through.

Your gaze drifts to her bulletin board. It’s a mix of pinned photos, ticket stubs, and little reminders. One of the pictures is of the two of you, taken on move-in day. You’re grinning like an idiot, throwing up a peace sign, while she’s glaring at the camera, her arms crossed—but there’s a subtle upturn to her lips that gives her away.

You flop onto your bed, the old springs creaking under your weight. The small TV in the corner flickers to life as you jab at the remote, the sound of canned laughter filling the room. It's some trashy reality show, but it's mindless and distracting—just what you need right now.

As you settle in, your gaze drifts around the room. Tara's side is always so pristine, everything in its place. It's annoying how tidy she is. You, on the other hand... well, your side looks like a bomb went off in a thrift store.

You reach for the bag of chips on your nightstand, tearing it open with a loud rip. The salty scent mingles with the faint smell of Tara's lavender body spray, creating a strange but not unpleasant odor.

You munch away, eyes glued to the screen, as snippets of conversation from the show drift through your thoughts.

"I think I'm going to kill her," one of the contestants is saying, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

You snort. Yeah, right. They're all too busy primping and preening to actually do anything. Unlike the Ghostface killers, they've got no balls.

You check the time again, just to be sure. Tara won't be back for at least a couple of hours. With the coast clear, a mischievous grin spreads across your face. Time to take advantage of the privacy.

You reach over to your bedside table, fishing around in the drawer until your fingers close around the cool, smooth bottle of lotion. You pop the cap open with practiced ease, squirting a generous amount into your palm. The slick, slightly cold sensation sends a shiver down your spine as you rub your hands together, warming the lotion.

With your other hand, you unlock your phone and pull up your favorite porn site. Your fingers fly over the screen as you type in your search, already feeling the familiar stirrings of arousal. A few taps later, and a video starts playing, the sounds of moaning and grunting filling the now-silent room.

You settle back against your pillow, one hand already slipping beneath the waistband of your sweatpants. Your cock is already half-hard, twitching in anticipation. You wrap your fingers around it, giving it a slow stroke as you watch the scene unfold on your screen.

You stroke your cock slowly, teasingly, savoring the building pleasure. Your other hand roams over your chest, pinching and tweaking a nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. The dual sensations send sparks of electricity shooting through your body, making your hips buck up into your touch.

On screen, the actress lets out a particularly loud moan, and you match it with a groan of your own. Fuck, that's hot.

Just as you're getting into a rhythm, the door to your dorm swings open without warning. You freeze, your hand still wrapped around your throbbing cock, as Tara steps inside.

"Shit!" she exclaims, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene before her. You're sprawled on your bed, pants pulled down, phone in hand, and a sticky puddle of lube on your stomach.

Mortification floods through you, and you frantically try to cover yourself, grabbing a pillow and pressing it over your lap. Your face burns with embarrassment, and you can't meet Tara's gaze.

"I-I thought you said you'd be gone for hours!" you stammer, trying to come up with some excuse. But there's no hiding what you were doing.

Tara stands in the doorway, frozen in shock. Her eyes dart between your flushed face and the pillow. After a moment, she seems to shake herself out of her stupor.

Tara's eyes flick down to the pillow, then back up to your face. Her expression is unreadable, but there's a glint in her eye that makes your stomach flutter with nerves and excitement.

She steps further into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The sound seems to echo in the tense silence.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," she says, her voice low and teasing. She saunters over to your bed, the mattress dipping under her weight as she sits on the edge.

Your breath hitches as she reaches out, her fingers brushing against the pillow in your lap. Slowly, she pulls it away, revealing your straining erection. You whimper at the sudden exposure, the cool air hitting your overheated skin.

Tara's gaze rakes over your cock, and you feel yourself grow even harder under her scrutiny. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and your hips twitch involuntarily.

"Looks like you were in the middle of something," she purrs, her hand resting lightly on your thigh. Her touch is electric, sending shivers racing up your spine.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd be back so soon," you manage to say, your voice coming out breathier than you intended.

Tara leans in closer, her breath ghosting over your ear. "Don't apologize," she whispers, her lips brushing against your skin. "I think I can help with that."

And then, before you can process what's happening, she's sliding down your body, her hands pushing your legs apart. You gasp as her mouth hovers over your cock, her hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin.

"Fuck, Tara," you groan, your fingers tangling in her hair as she takes you into her mouth. The wet heat of her tongue is almost too much to bear, and you buck your hips, desperate for more.

Tara hums around you, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through your body. She bobs her head, taking you deeper each time, her hand wrapping around the base of your cock.

Your head falls back against the pillows as Tara works her magic. Her mouth is a wonder, hot and wet and so damn perfect. You can feel every ridge and valley of her tongue as it glides along your shaft, tracing the veins and swirling around the head.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so good," you groan, your hips rocking up to meet her movements. Your fingers tighten in her hair, gently guiding her pace.

Tara hums in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. She takes you deeper, her nose brushing against your pubic bone as she swallows around you.

The sight of her, head bobbing in your lap, lips stretched obscenely around your cock, is almost too much to handle. You feel yourself getting close, your balls tightening and your stomach muscles clenching.

"Tara, I'm gonna..." you warn, your voice strained and breathless.

But she doesn't pull away. Instead, she doubles down, her head moving faster, her hand pumping in tandem. She looks up at you through her lashes, her eyes dark with lust and something else, something intense and hungry.

It's too much. With a guttural groan, you explode in her mouth, your cock pulsing as you spill your seed down her throat. She swallows it all, not spilling a single drop, and continues to suck and lick until you're spent.

Finally, she releases you with a lewd pop, sitting back on her heels and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looks immensely pleased with herself, a satisfied smirk on her kiss-swollen lips.

You collapse back onto the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Your whole body feels like jelly, boneless and sated.

"Holy shit," you breathe, running a hand through your sweat-dampened hair. "That was... wow."

Tara giggles, the sound low and sultry. She crawls up your body, straddling your hips and leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You roll over, pinning Tara beneath you on the bed. She looks up at you, her eyes dark and hooded with desire. You capture her lips in another heated kiss, your tongue delving into her mouth to taste yourself on her tongue.

Your hands roam her body, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to caress the smooth skin of her stomach. She arches into your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Breaking the kiss, you sit up and pull her shirt over her head, tossing it carelessly aside. Your eyes drink in the sight of her, clad only in a lacy bra. You lean down, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the swell of her cleavage.

Tara's fingers thread through your hair, tugging gently as she holds you to her. "More," she breathes, her voice husky with need.

You oblige, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. It falls away, freeing her breasts to your hungry gaze. You take a moment to admire them, full and perfect, before lowering your head to take one pebbled nipple into your mouth.

Tara gasps, her back arching off the bed. You lavish attention on her breast, sucking and nibbling until she's writhing beneath you. Your hand slides down her stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of her jeans.

"These need to go," you murmur against her skin, hooking your fingers in the denim and pulling it down her legs. She lifts her hips to help, kicking the jeans off and leaving her in just a pair of matching lace panties.

You sit back on your heels, taking in the sight of her laid out before you, flushed and wanting. Your cock twitches, already hardening again. You reach down to push your own pants fully off, kicking them away.

Tara's eyes widen as she takes in your naked form, her gaze zeroing in on your erection. "Fuck, you're so hot," she breathes, her hand reaching out to wrap around you.

You grind your cock against her, feeling the heat of her through the thin lace. Tara gasps, her hips lifting to meet yours, seeking more friction. The rough drag of your hard length against her clothed clit sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you both.

"Please," she whimpers, her fingers digging into your shoulders. "I need you inside me."

You don't make her wait any longer. Hooking your fingers in her panties, you yank them down her legs, tossing them aside carelessly. Tara spreads her legs wider, inviting you in.

You position yourself at her entrance, the head of your cock nudging against her slick folds. Tara's breath hitches, her eyes fluttering closed as you press forward.

You sink into her inch by delicious inch, groaning at the tight, wet heat enveloping you. Tara is so fucking perfect, her walls gripping you like a vice. You bottom out, your hips flush against hers, buried to the hilt inside her.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you pant, fighting the urge to just start pounding into her. Instead, you hold still, letting her adjust to the stretch.

Tara rolls her hips, urging you on. "Move," she demands, her nails raking down your back.

You don't need to be told twice. You start to thrust, setting a steady rhythm that has you both gasping and moaning. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and the creaking of the bed.

Tara wraps her legs around your waist, using the leverage to meet your thrusts. Her tits bounce with every snap of your hips, and you lean down to capture a nipple in your mouth, sucking hard.

"Yes, just like that," Tara hisses, her head thrashing on the pillow. "Don't stop."

You have no intention of stopping. You fuck her hard and fast, chasing your pleasure and hers. The coil of heat in your belly winds tighter and tighter, signaling your impending release.

You can feel your orgasm building, your balls tightening and your thrusts becoming erratic. But you force yourself to slow down, to focus on Tara's pleasure instead of your own.

Tara's nails dig into your shoulders, her teeth sinking into your neck as she holds on for dear life. Her walls flutter around you, tightening and releasing in a rhythm that tells you she's close.

You redouble your efforts, angling your hips to hit that spot inside her that makes her see stars. Tara keens, her body tensing beneath you.

You reach between your bodies, finding her clit with your fingers. Tara bucks against your hand, her hips moving in frantic circles as you rub tight circles over the sensitive nub. You can feel her getting closer, her inner walls starting to flutter around your cock.

"Come on, baby," you urge, your voice low and rough. "Come for me."

Tara's body goes rigid, her back arching off the bed as her orgasm crashes over her. She cries out, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice as she comes undone.

The feeling of her coming around your cock is too much. With a guttural groan, you pull out, your hand flying over your shaft as you stroke yourself to completion. Your cum spurts out, painting Tara's stomach in thick, white ropes.

You collapse beside her, both of you panting and sweaty. Tara turns her head to look at you, a lazy, satisfied smile on her face.

"That was intense," she murmurs, reaching out to brush a sweat-dampened lock of hair from your forehead.

You grab some tissues from the box on your nightstand, quickly wiping the cum from Tara's stomach. She sighs contentedly as you clean her, her body still tingling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

As you toss the used tissues aside, you can't help but let your gaze wander over her naked form. Tara is a vision, her skin flushed and glowing, her hair splayed out on the pillow like a halo. She looks thoroughly debauched, and the sight sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

But then reality starts to set in. You just had sex with your roommate. Your best friend. What does this mean for your relationship? Will things be awkward now?

Tara seems to sense your thoughts. She sits up, pulling the sheet around her naked body. "Hey," she says softly, reaching out to cup your cheek. "We okay?"

You nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak. Tara smiles, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

"Good," she murmurs against your mouth. "Because I want to do that again. Soon."

With that, she hops off the bed, completely unselfconscious in her nudity. She pads over to her closet, rummaging around for something to wear.

You watch her, your mind still reeling. What have you gotten yourself into?

—

request: where reader and Tara are roommates and reader thinks Tara is out so reader starts to masturbate but Tara comes home early and walks in on reader so she gives a helping hand (a blow job) then they do it yk?

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Your Witch (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: It's your hand in marriage in return for ending the terror against your town, and your parents have decided. The Witch of the Westview Woods is to be your wife. No matter how much you might protest.

Words: 7k

Warnings: Arranged marriage, shades of self harm, toxic family relationships, virgin R, oral (R receiving), shades of a praise kink

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme@grilledcheeseandguavajelly

“I will not.”

You glared at your parents, arms crossed over your chest, lips pursed. Anger was coursing through your veins, hot and acute, making you vibrate. You had to keep from growling at them, or lashing out. This was a level of disrespect you weren’t willing to live with. This was a step too far. This was the straw that was breaking the camel’s back.

“It’s already been arranged,” your father said, his arm around your mother’s shoulder, providing a united front.

“I won’t,” you said.

“It’s your duty,” your father said.

“Duty?” you scoffed, “and what of your duty as my parents?”

“What would you have us do?” your mother demanded.

“Not sell me off like some farm animal for your own comfort,” you spat.

“The Witch of the Westview Woods has made her request clear. If we give her you she will leave our town alone,” your father said.

“I doubt she even knows who I am,” you muttered.

“You are more than aware of your reputation in town. She made her choice. You are to be hers and in exchange our safety will be ensured. You should feel honoured to be serving our town,” your father said.

“I’d be more honoured if I wasn’t the sacrificial lamb,” you said, “you would never have agreed to this if it was James she asked for.”

Your younger brother was the favourite. You knew it. You parents knew it. Everyone knew it. If the Witch had demanded him, your father would have fought tooth and nail to keep him. But the moment it was you being asked for, he was shoving you out the door. James was the heir, you were just a measly daughter. No one needed you except to increase the social status of your family.

No wonder you were being sold off to the first witch that came along.

“And I don’t see why it has to be a marriage,” you said before they could give a half hearted excuse.

“We’re not risking you running off after you’ve been collected by her,” he said.

“I can run off when I’m married to her,” you muttered.

“You’ll do no such thing,” your mother snapped, “now, stop this silliness. This a show of good faith. An exchange. She receives something precious to us in return for our safety.”

“You don’t have to pretend as if you’re not excited about this,” you said.

“It’s a great honour to be chosen by her,” she said.

“Then you do it!.”

You stomped away, hiking your skirt up to speed up. Slamming your bedroom door behind you, you let the entire household know exactly how you felt. Falling back on the bed, you buried your face in your pillow and screamed.

The Witch of the Westview Woods had been terrorising your town for as long as anyone could remember. Children stolen in the night, fires set, storms tearing the roofs off homes. Floods and locusts and droughts. One thing after another that no one should be capable of. But she had magic and no matter who was sent to slay her, she triumphed.

And you were being handed right to her.

If you survived to the years end you would be surprised. It made no sense for you to be the exact thing that would save the town. If it all it took was marrying her, how hard could it be to vanquish her?

This whole thing reeked of something. You just wish you knew what it was.

And yet you found yourself being shoved into a white dress the next afternoon, your hair pinned tight enough to bring on a headache and makeup painted over your face. Poked and prodded, your mother’s servants got you ready for the moment your life was going to end.

Walking towards the church, your father was your guard, his hand around your arm keeping you from slipping away and living life as a vagrant. Anything would be better than the fate that awaited you at the end of that alter.

The organ music began and on heavy feet you were dragged down the aisle. Fuming, you refused to even look at your bride as you were forced to stand in front of her. You were slow to drag your gaze up her body, over her bare feet and deep purple skirts, over her laced up bodice and into bright blue eyes. Your mouth fell open, shocked by the woman staring back you with an assessing gaze and lips curling up into a smile.

This was not a wild hag living in the woods. This was a woman beautiful enough to steal your breath. This was a problem.

One way or another, the Witch of the Westview Woods was going to kill you.

Her voice was husky as she repeated the vows, blue eyes burning you as her gaze rested on your face. You stumbled through your own vows, the wind taken out of your sails. The anger had fizzled out in the face of this woman, so unexpected, so unlike anything you could have anticipated.

Her hand took yours, warm and steady where you felt unbalanced. She slipped the ring on your finger, the cool metal heavy and you found yourself having to swallow past a lump in your throat. You whispered your I do and then her hand was grasping yours and she was dragging you out of the chapel.

“Come on, hon,” she said, “we have a wedding night to get to.”

Your cheeks heated.

You didn’t even glance back at your family as she practically flew out of town. Her hand was steady in yours, gripping tight enough to hurt. She plunged into the forest, branches whipping at you. Any time you stumbled, her strong arm would curl around your waist and steady you before taking off again.

The house that emerged from the trees was small, a cottage covered in ivy, plants snarled together in the garden, a soft light glowing in the window. She shoved the door open, pulling you into the interior of the home. It was comfortable, a fire burning in the hearth. Books were in tumbling piles and there was an armchair draped in a soft looking blanket. She dropped your hand, stepping further into her home.

“Home sweet home,” she hummed.

She flopped down into her armchair, grinning up at you. You hesitated at the door, the lace of your dress scratching at your skin, buttons pinching, too tight to breathe properly. She was watching you from behind wild hair, assessing you.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” she asked.

“No,” you said, taking a step forward.

“C’mere, hon,” she said.

On unsure feet you drew closer to her. Long fingers reached out, snagging on the skirt of your dress, the lace dirty and ripped from your flight through the forest. Her fingers ran over the material, looking up at you from under lowered lashes.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to slip into something more comfortable?” she asked, voice a low rumble that had your knees turning to jelly.

“I didn’t bring anything with me,” you said.

“Even better.” She brightened, “do you need any help?”

You squeaked, cheeks aflame as your eyes widened and your mouth fell open. She chuckled, falling back to slouch in the chair.

“Feel free to wear anything you find upstairs,” she said, nodding towards the stairs.

You lingered a moment before making your way upstairs. It was only one room, a large bed dominating the room. You skirted around it, doing your best to ignore it. The wardrobe had clothes spilling out, a mishmash of materials, all in shades of purple.

You tore the buttons from the dress, doing your best to get out of it. You didn’t bother trying to be careful, never wanting to see the torture device again. Reaching in, you grabbed the first dress you could find. Lilac was not a colour you were often given over to wearing, but you supposed it was the best you had. You opened the window, throwing your heels outside into the garden, your feet thanking you for it.

Padding downstairs on bare feet, you found the Witch curled up in the chair, a book open in her lap. A bunny hopped past and you found yourself smiling.

“Señor Scratchy likes you,” she said without even glancing up from the page she was reading.

“You have a pet bunny?” you asked.

“Every witch has to have a familiar,” she replied.

“Is that a rule or a guideline?” you wondered.

Her gaze finally dragged up to you and something in it darkened, sweeping over you in her dress. You froze but her grin was pleased.

“Well, aren’t you a vision in purple,” she purred.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

Lingering by the stairs you let her look her fill. Your weight shifted from foot to foot, not quite sure what she’d be expecting from you. It was your wedding night. You knew how these things usually went.

“Do you cook?” she asked once she was done.

“Do I…? I can,” you answered.

“Good because I’ve been missing that skill for more years than is polite,” she said.

“I can do that,” you said, nodding to yourself.

The kitchen was small and pokey, washing up needing to be done before you could even begin cooking. Having something to do with your hands made it easier being in that cottage. You could focus on that rather than the woman in the other room.

She was nothing like you’d expected. She was hardly the horrifying figure of legend you’d spent your entire life hearing about. She wasn’t even particularly mean as far as you could tell. Disarming, flirty, overwhelming, sure. She was all those things. But not horrifying.

You passed her a plate of food once you were done, doing your best with the ingredients you could find. She didn’t look up, taking it from you, fingers picking at the food. You lowered yourself onto the rug in front of the fire, eating your own meal.

“Not bad,” she muttered, mouth half full of food.

You looked up from the flickering flames, watching her eat. She hardly had the manners that had been drilled into you by your mother. Eating with her hands, she tore through the meat with her teeth, looking half wild. Her eyes were roving over the pages of her book, not paying you any attention.

The sky had darkened outside the window, the only light coming from the lamp lit beside her and the fire you were sitting in front of. The light played over the planes of her face, cheeks sunk beneath sharp cheekbones, eyes shadowed, skin pale. She truly was beautiful.

Maybe you could make this marriage work.

“You’re staring,” Her voice was a low rumble.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“Just say whatever is going through your pretty little head,” she said, finally looking up at you.

She pinned you under her gaze. Her tongue dragged along her lips, and you found yourself considering all the things that tongue could do. Your cheeks flamed and you had to remind yourself this was a woman who went out of her way to hurt people.

“You’re not what I was expecting,” you blurted out.

“Were you hoping for some wizened old crone?” she asked.

“The stories were hazy. No one’s seen you in a while,” you replied, “and you’ve been around a while so…”

“So you naturally assumed I would be ravaged by the hands of time,” she said, “aren’t you lucky I wasn’t.”

You pressed your lips together, fingers wringing at your skirts. You hadn’t anticipated flirting. You hadn’t prepared for it. You hadn’t figured out how to respond to it.

“Aren’t you just adorable,” she hummed, “I promise I’ll make you a very happy wife.”

The implication of her words sent a spark of heat through your veins, right between your legs. If she kept talking in that voice, it would be so easy to ignore all the evil acts she’d done and let her have her way with you. No one in your town had ever elicited this reaction in you.

“Yes, that’s the look,” she said, “I picked well.”

She settled back in her chair, smirking at you. You ducked your head, not able to handle her scrutiny. Although, if the way your heart was racing was any indication, the wedding night with your new bride wouldn’t be as bad as you’d thought it would be.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you stood, collecting her empty plate from the arm of her chair. Washing up, you ignored the sound of her in the other woman. This was hardly the life you were expecting to have for yourself. Even in the last 24 hours, you’d grown used to the idea of spending your life with a hag whose company you could never enjoy.

The Witch had turned out to be both beautiful and charming, if not incredibly disarming.

“Come here, hon,” she called through the door.

On unsure feet, you returned to her. She was standing by the fire, staring down into it. You paused behind her, waiting.

“It’s been a long day. You must be tired,” she said.

“I suppose,” you said.

“Come on. Bed time.”

Her hand slipped into yours, tugging you up the stairs. Anticipation curled in your stomach. It wouldn’t be so bad. You might even enjoy it. With the Witch. And not the hag you’d been expecting. There would be no need to close your eyes and think of something else as she got on with it.

“Here,” she said, shoving a gauzy piece of fabric at you.

“You want me to change?” you asked, staring down at it.

“Unless you want to sleep in that dress, but I promise you that will be more comfortable,” she said.

“Oh.”

“Sleep well, hon,” she said, one foot already on the top stair.

“You’re not staying?” you asked.

She paused, eyes sweeping over you.

“I appreciate the enthusiasm, but you should get your rest,” she said.

She left you standing by the bed, clutching a negligee, wondering what you’d done wrong. Trying to ignore your disappointment, you changed into the nightdress, the lace and gauzy material sexier than anything you’d owned back home. You left those thoughts, slipping into the large bed. It was comfortable, more so than you’d been expecting, the blankets soft and warm, the sheets smooth. Laying your head on one of the pillows, you stared up at the ceiling.

Many hours passed, alone in the bed, ears straining for the sound of the Witch down below. The stairs creaked as she climbed them, padding on soft feet. You closed your eyes, not wanting to be caught disobeying orders. The soft thump of fabric hitting the floor, a shuffle, and then the mattress was dipping beside you.

“Does the bed not meet your standards?” she asked into the darkness.

You sighed, eyes blinking open.

“It’s very comfortable,” you said.

“Were you waiting for me?”

The bed shifted. Her warmth brushed against you and a hand slid over your waist. You stiffened, then forced yourself to relax. This was more what you were expecting. Touches and a bed and the cover of darkness.

“Relax, hon,” she whispered, the hand retreating.

You turned your head, staring at her in the darkness. She rolled over, presenting her back to you, leaving you nothing back dark hair to look at. You watched her breathe for a moment.

“What should I call you?” you whispered across the distance.

“What?” She rolled to look at you.

“I can’t keep calling you the Witch,” you said, “I don’t know your name.”

“Huh.” She rolled back to where she was before, not giving you an answer.

You watched her for a moment more before you sighed. Rolling over, keeping your back to her, you closed your eyes and did your best to relax.

“Agatha,” she whispered. You froze, “my name is Agatha.”

You settled down, holding her name close to your heart, like it was something precious. No one in town knew her name. This was just for you.

From that day you settled into some kind of routine with Agatha. You’d wake early while she luxuriated in bed long after the sun had risen. You’d clean and cook and tend to the garden, doing all you could to turn her cottage into a home. Agatha would swan in and out of the house, sometimes gone for hours, singing under her breath, or muttering curses.

In the evenings, she’d curl up in her chair and you’d sit on the rug, whiling away the hours in companionable silence. You’d embroider or begin the process of drying herbs, or stare at the flames as you thought with Señor Scratchy in your lap.

You hadn’t been back to town, nor had you heard from your family. They’d well and truly abandoned you the moment you’d said I do. Truth be told, you weren’t sure you wanted to see them. They’d given you up so easily and clearly weren’t missing you. In your cottage deep within the Westview Woods, you were comfortable and safe and calm. You knew your place and you were never forced to do anything you didn’t want to do.

Sometimes you’d catch Agatha watching you. Blue eyes peering out the window as you worked at taming the garden or glancing up from a book as you cuddled with Señor Scratchy. Each time it made you self conscious but you never asked her about it. The relationship was tenuous at best. You didn’t want to upset her.

She would still flirt with you and she still seemed to gain enjoyment from flustering you. But she wasn’t doing anything to treat you like a real wife. You had no clue what it was she was getting out of this arrangement other than a maid. If that was what she’d wanted, she could have just asked for it. The wedding wasn’t necessary.

And yet you were her wife and you would be until one of you died.

It took about a month before you cracked open one of her books one night. You had no idea what she could be reading and your curiosity got the better of you in a moment of boredom. Looking down at the page, the incomprehensible symbols made no sense to you. Flicking through more and more pages, you tried to understand.

“Interested in magic?” she asked.

Startled, you dropped the book. Apologising, you snatched it up, turning to look at her. She was standing in the doorway, night pressing in behind her, returned from wherever it was she disappeared to for those long hours. There was an errant leaf tangled in her hair. Standing, she froze as you reached out, tugging it free and throwing it behind her, out the door.

You hadn’t realised how close you’d gotten to her. Her face was so close to yours you could count the shades of blue in her eyes. Your breath froze in your chest and you stilled.

“It’s not safe to learn magic on your own,” she whispered, reaching for the book in your hand.

You let her take it without argument, a sense of shame from being caught reminding you how this conversation had started. You stepped away from her, putting distance between the two of you. After weeks together, you thought her ability to fluster you with just her presence were gone, but your heart was thundering and you felt breathless.

“If you’re looking for a mentor, I’m more than happy to teach you,” she said, voice softening.

“You’d teach me magic?” you asked.

“What are wives for?” she said, sweeping into the room, depositing the book on top of a tilting stack. If the way you were feeling was any indication, wives were for a lot more than teaching magic.

She settled you on the rug, taking her usual place in her chair. At her feet, you gazed up at her, trying to ignore the way there was a throbbing between your legs and fire in your veins. She reached out, taking your hand, delicate fingers manipulating it until it was in a position that met her approval.

“Alright, the first thing you should know is that your power comes from deep within you. Not everyone has enough to create even a spark of magic. Do not feel disappointed if you can’t. It takes a very special woman to do even the most simple of magic,” she said.

“You must be the most special woman in the world then,” you said, looking at the point where her hand met yours.

When she didn’t respond to you, you looked up. She was staring down at you, something unreadable in her eyes you hadn’t seen before.

“I suppose I am,” she replied, but it wasn’t with the cocky little tilt of her head you’d grown used to, “now, burrow down deep into yourself. Find that well of power, see what you have.”

You closed your eyes, feeling her finger stroke over the palm of your hand, trying to find what she was talking about. All you found was the fire she brought out in you, the anger still simmering at your family, the disappointment and hurt you’d been carrying for longer than you could count at your place in the world. It was why you kept your hands busy, refusing to look too deeply into the way your family had let you down.

It burnt. Lingering on it hurt. The scars left on your soul were sore to the touch. You pressed harder. The pain, at least, was a relief from the feeling of shame you carried with you at all hours of the day.

“Well, would you look at that.”

You blinked your eyes open, finding light reflected in Agatha’s eyes. Cradled in the palm of your hand was a pale blue energy, roiling and rolling in the air. Your mouth fell open, staring at it, trying to wrap your head around what you had done.

It flickered out.

“Apparently I’m not the only special woman in this house,” Agatha murmured.

You cheeks heated, eyes widened as you stared up into her face. She lent forward, fingertips brushing over the apple of your cheeks, soft and gentle, barely there, making you shiver.

“Yes, I chose very well,” she said, drawing back.

Under her assessing gaze, you did it again and again and again, until your head began to hurt. She put you to bed, tucking you in, fingers gently running through your hair until you fell asleep. Just a month ago, you could have never imagined being treated so comfortingly by her.

So began the next phase of your routine. Your days were your own but your nights were Agatha’s. In front of the fire, sitting at her feet, a desperate need to please her, she taught you to wield and control your own power. Her murmured praises and her soft touches made your head spin, addictive and heady, only spurring you on for more.

Watching from the window one afternoon, the sunlight streaming through the boughs of the trees above, you focused on Agatha wandering through the garden. You’d tidied it since arriving, giving it more order, planting things you found out in the forest to go with what you already found strangled under the weeds. Your hands had been in the dirt, coaxing life back into the garden.

She bowed her head over a flower, you thought maybe smelling it. A smile bloomed over your own face, watching her as she moved around the garden. She was so gentle with the plants, pausing occasionally to look at the work you’d done. You wished you knew what she was thinking but she was always so enigmatic. You never knew what was going on behind her eyes.

When she returned to the cottage, a flower was clutched in her hand, petals soft, a new bloom. You looked up from the book she’d asked you to read, legs curled beneath you, skirt pushed up around your knees to bring some cool air to your skin. Spring had well and truly arrived.

“Are you working for me?” she purred.

You nodded, watching her swaying hips as she approached. All those touches and all that praise had only made it harder to pretend as if she didn’t set you alight. She crouched in front of you. With careful fingers, she tucked the flower behind your ear. Your breath caught. She tilted your chin up, the touch of her fingers against your skin making you heat again. Her eyes roved over your face, drinking you in.

“Beautiful,” she whispered.

It was like being pierced by an arrow. You would have fallen into her in that moment, the words begging for a kiss tingling on your lips. Before they could spill out, she stood, leaving you on the rug, breathless and wanting.

“I’ll be gone for a few days,” she said, turning from you.

Her skirt fanned out around her calves and just the flash of skin had your mouth drying. It wasn’t as if you’d seen the sight before, but every time it only made you more desperate to see more. It took a moment for her words to make sense to you.

“You are?” you asked, scrabbling to your feet.

“I’m afraid so,” she said, fingers tracing over the spines of some of her books, “I have business in the next town over. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” you said, voice small.

“You might want to go visit your family while I’m gone. You must be missing them,” she said.

“Okay.”

“Aw, don’t pout, kitten,” she said, curling her arm around your waist as she turned back to you, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Her hand burned through the thin fabric of your dress. It was these touches that drove you mad. You always wanted more, to feel that touch on every inch of your body. She pulled you closer, soft curves pressing against yours in a way that had your head reeling.

“Try not to miss me too much,” she said before releasing you.

You could only watch as she moved back to the door. She lingered in the doorway, snatching one last look at you before she swept out of the cottage. Despite the fire roaring and the sun streaming in through the window, you felt suddenly cold.

The days stretched without Agatha in the cottage. The bed was too big and although you could sit in the chair before the fire at night rather than the hard flagstones beneath the rug, it left you feeling unsettled. You lazed through the days, perking up at every little sound, hope climbing up your throat only to be crushed back down when it wasn’t her return.

When the storm swept in, you felt the first pangs of worry. Sequestered in the house, you were climbing the walls, not able to drown your worry in work in the garden. The cottage was clean and there was only so much folding and refolding of clothes you could do before you began to question your sanity.

Lying in bed, you did your best to keep your thoughts away from Agatha. With the storm raging outside, it was easy to conjure images of her getting hurt or stranded, flashes of lightning striking her down too far away for you to find her and bring her home. You tossed and turned, the bed feeling huge and empty and cold without Agatha in it with you.

A crash from downstairs had you jolting up. You froze, listening intently. Another bang. Crawling to the edge of the bed, your heart was thundering, fear seeping into your veins. Sneaking to the top of the stairs, you peeked down.

A shadowed figure was standing in front of the fire, burnt down to their embers. You grasped the closest heavy object, a candlestick fancier than anything else in the cottage that you’d never quite built up the courage to ask about, and crept down the stairs. The figure didn’t seem to hear you, bending to stoke the flames. Raising the candlestick above your head, you swung.

A pale hand whipped out in a flash of lightning, grasping your wrist. The candlestick clattered to the floor. You gasped.

“This wasn’t quite the warm welcome home I was hoping for,” Agatha said.

“You’re back,” you said, breathless, heart thumping for a whole new reason.

“You weren’t expecting someone else, were you?”

You threw yourself into her arms, not even bothering to answer her. The joy at her reappearance in your cozy cottage was overwhelming. She chuckled, catching you, pressing her face to the top of your head.

“Now this is more what I was hoping for,” she said.

She trembled in the cage of your arms. Pulling back, you realised she was completely soaked through, wet hair stuck to her skin in a tangle. Her clothes were plastered to her and she was shivering. You ran your hands down her arms, feeling the goosebumps, grasping her hands.

“You’re freezing,” you said, “come here and warm up.”

You sat her down in her chair, stoking the fire until the flames began to blaze again. You turned, finding her gaze locked on you. It was dark and dangerous, roving over you with a level of possession you weren’t used to. Your knees trembled, turning to jelly as she drank her fill.

Glancing down, you realised your negligee was clinging to your body, wet from the embrace you’d given her, see through in all the places you weren’t sure you wanted it to be. Your eyes met hers again, your shiver nothing to do with the rain water seeping into your skin. Her tongue ran along her lower lip, stealing your breath.

“You should get out of those wet clothes,” you whispered.

“Is that an offer, hon?” she asked.

You’d missed her. You wanted her. And from the way she was looking at you, she wanted you too. So why not take what you wanted? She certainly had when she’d demanded a wedding.

“Yes.”

Her face brightened before it settled into something more predatory. Holding a hand out to you, she pulled you towards her. You fell into her lap, a small squeak on your lips. Her hand slid up your thigh, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

You lent forward, capturing her lips in an all consuming kiss. She growled, hands grasping you, dragging you closer. You whimpered into her mouth, hands clutching at her shoulders. She burned beneath you, every point of contact making you quiver. Her lips were searing hot as they made their way down the column of your neck. Your head tipped back, giving her more access, fingers burying themselves in her hair. Her name was a breathy moan on your lips. When her teeth sunk in, you groaned, pressing her closer.

“We’ve been married for months,” you murmured, breathless, desperate for her.

“We have,” she said, whispered into her skin.

Her tongue ran over your skin. You forgot what you were saying, luxuriating in the feeling of her worshipping your neck. Her hand was pushing up past the hem of your negligee, seeking out warm skin.

“You were saying, hon?” she asked, lips brushing your skin.

“Oh uh…” Her fingers ghosted over the skin of your inner thigh, “just that you…”

“I?” she murmured, finding the vulnerable spot behind your jaw.

“You never asked me to fulfil my wifey duties,” you sighed.

“I’m not a monster who forces young women to got to bed with me when they don’t want to,” she said before her lips closed over your earlobe.

“But I did want to,” you sighed, “I do.”

“So I’m gathering, hon,” she said.

You kissed her again, already addicted to her taste. With arms stronger than you were expecting, she lifted you, laying you down on the rug you’d spent so many evenings on. The fire was warm from so close, the air heating the chill of the night. A clap of thunder boomed above the house. You jumped, before laughing, self conscious at your own reaction. Her smile was fond.

“You know, when I gave you this nightie, I was hoping you’d look as delicious as I’d imagined,” she said, one hand stroking down your side, “it looks even better when it’s wet.”

She drew back, looking down at you. The front was completely soaked through, practically baring you to her faze. You shivered, breath stuttering. The look in her eye suggested she wanted to eat you alive. Her hand stroked between your breasts, pressing against your stomach when you wriggled beneath her.

“Stay still, pet. I’m enjoying my new wife,” she said.

Both hands cupped your breasts through the lace and silk of the dress you were in. Each nipple was already peaked, pebbling from the chilled water you’d had pressed against your skin. Palming them, she watched your face. You whimpered, not used to someone else touching you like this.

“You make such pretty noises for me, pet,” she said right as she pinched your nipples.

Your back arched up into her touch, offering yourself to her. Your hands grasped her hips, breathing coming fast.

“Have you ever done this before?” she asked, watching you writhe under her touch.

“No,” you sighed.

“Really?” She sat back to look at you, a look of pleasure passing over her face, “I’ll be your first?”

“No one ever made me want to before,” you replied, pushing your hands under her skirts, wanting to feel her skin. It was as soft as you’d imagined, the muscles of her thighs strong under your palms.

“You are a gift,” she said before swooping in to kiss you again.

You lost yourself in it, your entire body a live wire underneath her. She hummed when your hands delved further up her skirt, the fabric still heavy with rain. You pulled away, ignoring the displeased noise she made.

“I wasn’t kidding about getting you out of these wet clothes. You’ll catch your death,” you said.

“Well, if you insist.”

She stood, pulling the dress over her head. In the firelight, she was nothing but enticing shadows and soft curves. You stared, overwhelmed with how beautiful she was. You could spend the rest of your life looking at this view. Pushing up onto your elbows, you let your gaze travel over her, practically drooling. You pressed your thighs together.

“Do I pass muster?” she asked.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” you breathed.

Something shifted in her face, almost as if you’d surprised her. In the shadows, you couldn’t be sure, but you thought her cheeks might be flushed. She lowered back onto her knees, straddling your waist. Your hands skimmed over her ribs, feeling her inhale beneath your fingertips. You cupped her breasts, feeling the weight of them in your palms.

“I think it’s only fair that I return the favour,” she said, “after all, I got you all wet.”

Your cheeks heated and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, but you let her peel the negligee from your body, throwing it aside. Her hands were everywhere, barely touching you. Your whimper only had her grinning down at you.

“Use your words, pet,” she said.

“Touch me,” you begged, “please, Agatha.”

“All you had to do was ask,” she said before her hands were back on your body.

Her lips were soon to follow after, wrapping around one nipple. Your strangled moan only seemed to spur her on. The rumble of a groan vibrated through your body and you arched up into her mouth.

Her hands were sliding further down your body and you felt on fire. When she began to press kisses to your sternum, making her way down your body, you gasped. Her hands were gently as they parted your legs, settling between them. You had no idea how she was doing it, but your entire body was a live wire, sending you insane with how good it felt.

“I need you to tell me if you’re about to change your mind,” she said, her lips pressing the crease of your thigh, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop once I’ve tasted you.”

“If you stop you can go back out into that storm right now,” you said.

“I knew I chose right.”

Your head fell back as her tongue made contact with the hot throbbing between your legs. You cursed, loud enough to be heard over the thunder still crashing up above, and your hips jumped up into her mouth. Her talent didn’t just lie in magic, although it felt pretty magical whatever it was she was doing. You gave yourself over to it, uncaring that you were being too loud or too desperate. Nothing had ever felt as good as her mouth on you.

Your fingers tangled in her hair, holding her there, hips undulating. When her lips wrapped around the bundle of nerves you knew resided between your thighs, you made a choked noise, her name unintelligible. She was moaning, the vibrations driving you crazy, spinning higher and higher. Your legs were trembling where they rested over her shoulders.

When the dam broke, you screamed, clutching at her. Looking up your body, she caught your eye, the smouldering burning in her gaze only making you wonder what she would look like when you returned the favour. She drew back, her grin very satisfied despite you being the boneless body on the rug.

“I didn’t know it could feel like that,” you whispered.

“You’ve never��?” she asked.

“Never like that,” you said.

The fingers in her hair tugged her up your body. Your legs curled around her waist as you kissed her, tasting yourself on her tongue. She chuckled, drawing away, fingers running over your lower lip.

“You are a wonder,” she said, “I knew you would be that first time I saw you.”

“When did you see me?” you asked, sure you’d remember if you’d seen her before the wedding.

“I’d heard rumours of the town beauty, grown into a woman of marriageable age. The way the men were hoping to own you. I’ll admit I was curious. And then, there you were, wandering through my woods, a basket of flowers on your arm. I happened to be passing by as you stopped to speak to a lovely little bunny and I knew I had to have you,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I’m never wrong about these things.”

“So that’s why you asked for me specifically,” you mused.

“I wanted the prettiest girl in the village,” she said before she swooped down to kiss you again. For a while, you could get lost in it.

“Agatha,” you sighed when her lips began to trace a path down your neck again.

“Come, pet. I’ve had a long journey and I’m tired. I’d much rather sleep in our bed,” she said.

She rose, holding a hand out to you. You grasped it, letting her haul you to your feet. Stumbling you fell against her body, warm skin against warm skin, making your head spin. She slipped her arm around your waist, holding you close.

She swept you up into her arms, carrying you up the stairs. Depositing you on the bed, you stared up at her until she slipped between the sheets, taking the place that had been empty for too many days. She held her arms open to you, letting you curl against her her side.

“I’m glad you chose me to be your wife,” you whispered, face buried in the place her shoulder met her throat.

“As am I, hon,” she murmured, lips pressing to the top of your head.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax properly for the first time since she’d left. Her fingertips were trailing over your skin, stroking in a comforting rhythm. You were on the edge of sleep when you heard her soft whisper.

“I didn’t expect you to stay.”

Blinking your eyes open, you turned your head up towards her. She was already gazing down at you, fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I gave you leave to return to your family. I was expecting to find our home empty upon my return,” she said.

“But we’re married,” you said.

“That’s never stopped a woman before,” she replied.

“Why would I choose my family when I have you? They’d never forgive me for leaving you. They gave me no choice in my future,” you said, “I don’t want to ever see them again.”

“They didn’t?” Her fingers tightened in your hair.

“They told me I’d be marrying you. There was no discussion, no understanding that perhaps I didn’t want this.” You shifted closer to her, legs tangling together, “stupid girl. How could I ever not want you?”

“I’m a centuries old witch that terrorises local towns?” she suggested.

“Maybe, but you’re my witch,” you said, “and more importantly, you’re my wife. And I choose you. I didn’t like when you were gone. I was counting down the minutes you’d return.”

“Next time, would you like to come with me?” she asked.

“Please,” you said.

“Then you will,” she replied.

Your lips brushed her skin as you settled against her again, closing your eyes, kissing the closest part of her. Her breath hitched and she tightened her arms around you. Holding her close, you sighed, letting yourself relax again. With her home you had nothing to worry about anymore.

“More fool your parents for handing over the only person who could bring me to my knees,” she murmured, so soft you weren’t sure you were meant to hear it.

Slipping closer to sleep, comforted by the sounds of her breath and the warmth of her skin, you thought maybe being forced to marry the Witch of the Westview Woods was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

[smutoperator]

Bad Bunny

Jung Eunbi (Eunha) x Male Reader

Kinkvember Chapter 2

Main kinks: public sex, free use, sex with a stranger, spanking

Word count: 5639.

Eunha is a bad bunny. She may look cute from the outside, but once she gets inside the walls of any bedroom, she transforms herself into the neediest slut ever known. However, in this month of November, you had decided you would abstain from having any sex with her and let her prepare for her group's comeback.

But Eunha's horniness knows no boundaries, and her comeback preparation couldn't go ahead without sex. And if you weren't going to give it to her, no problem; she would find it somewhere else.

Eunha invites a guy to your house for a hot night of sex. He fucks her in every possible way, giving her the relief she needs while you preach your abstinence. However, one little mistake ended up leading to her demise.

On the next day, you do your duty as a good boyfriend and collect the garbage to take it away. However, when you start separating it, you find a few condoms mixed in it. You noticed a few holes poked in them and quickly connected the dots. "Damn, that bunny is so horny she couldn't go over a day without sex," you say.

You take the garbage out but grab one of the condoms, waiting to confront Eunha when she arrives from the latest practice. It doesn't take long for her to come, and as soon as she does, you ask her.

"What is this, Eunha?" you say, pointing to the condom. "I don't know," she answers, clearly lying as you can see her pale skin blushing. "Eunha, did you have sex with another guy while preparing for your group's comeback? You ask her. "Sorry, baby, I couldn't resist; I'm just a horny bunny," she answers. "Please forgive me; I love you," she continues.

Eunha's needy face makes your heart melt. You truly want to forgive her. But first, you need to set some conditions. "I forgive you, baby, but you cannot disobey me anymore," you tell her. "Okay, baby, I promise I will be very obedient," Eunha answers. "Well, I will start enforcing it right now; you better obey every command I give you and let me do whatever I want to you," you answer her. "Yes, baby, do it as you please; I deserve to get punished; I'm a bad bunny," she says.

"Let's take a walk then," you tell Eunha. "Sure, baby," she says. But as soon as you two get out of your house, you cuff her hands. "Baby, what are you doing?" she asks. "Shhhh, you told me you would let me do whatever I wanted," you say to her. "Alright, do it," she says.

You walk Eunha across the street in the direction of the construction site on the other side of it. You walk her through it, making sure she doesn't trip over anything with those knee-high boots she's wearing. You get her towards one of the fences at the construction site, pushing her against it. "Punish me, baby," she says. And indeed you will.

You grab scissors and cut Eunha's top right at her boob area. "We can't do that, baby," she says. "Today we can, follow my lead, you cheating bunny," you say to her, groping her perfect pair of tits and giving them a few spankings in between. "Bad bunny," you say as you spank them.

You pin Eunha against the fence and bend her body over, showing off the part that made you fall in love with her: the perfect round cheeks of her butt. You do one of your favorite things to it: spank it a few times before you pick up the scissors to cut her panties off. "You won't need those today," you say to Eunha.

You stick your hands on Eunha's pink fuckholes and start massaging them. "We can't do that in public, baby; it's too risky," she says. "Of course we can, and if you stay quiet, nobody will see," you say to her as you keep fingering her pussy and anus in broad daylight.

You once again reach into your toolcase and push out a nipple clamp, and you use the chain coming out of it to tie Eunha to the fence. "Today you're Daddy's free use girl," you say to her. "Yes, daddy, please use me," she says.

"Arch that pretty butt for me, little bunny," you tell Eunha, who obliges. As soon as you do, you cut the remnants of her panties off, leaving her big ass out in the open for you to spank it unchallenged. A construction worker arrives from behind, leading you to instinciteively pull Eunha's skirt back to cover her ass.

"You can't stay here," the worker says to you, who obliges and takes Eunha along with you, but not before flashing her nipples to them. You walk Eunha across the street and then reach a very heavy traffic avenue, crossing it as the drivers stop and get greeted with more nipple-flahing from Eunha. On the other side of the avenue, some curious guys look at your girlfriend, wondering what kind of stuff you're doing to her, as they see her tied up with her torso fully exposed, some even perverted enough to try to touch her.

Eunha is now completely naked from her waist up, but you just don't care and take her across the crowd walking down the streets. In fact, you lift her skirt up too, offering them a glimpse of your girlfriend almost totally naked, with many guys turning their necks around to look at her big ass, even better when you spank it in front of those horny dudes and even get some drivers to honk at Eunha flashing them, while you keep greeting the people walking across the street with your girlfriend's hot body.

You get even bolder, bending Eunha's body and flashing her ass to the people on the street and the guys on the avenue. They really enjoy it. Indeed, that fat pale piece of ass is a marvel to look at: so plump, round, and already red from the spankings you gave her.

Eunha grinds herself on a street sign and puts up a little show for the drivers stopping at the red light. "I wish Yuju was there; she could easily do some pole dancing at that sign," you say to your girlfriend, who is basically naked except for the bar of her skirt wrapped around her waist. The transients can see everything from her: her pink pussy, her perky tits, and especially her fat ass.

You take Eunha to the parking lot of a supermarket nearby and decide it's time to start putting some heat up in her pussy, as you finger it while crossing the lot. "Don't squirt; you can only cum when Daddy tells you," you say to her. Eunha obliges, managing to keep herself uptight and not cum.

Eunha gets put on her knees as you unzip your pants and finally show her your cock. "You missed it, right?" you ask her. "A lot, daddy," she answers and then quickly dives to bob her head on it like a good horny bunny. You grab her head from behind and push her even deeper, slowly fucking her doll-esque face. "Oh yeah, you're such a good Barbie doll," you tell her as she takes your cock in her mouth with ease in that parking lot.

You push your pants back up and walk Eunha across the parking lot a little bit. "What do you say?" you ask her. "Thank you, Daddy," Eunha answers. "Good girl, I think you deserve some more of Daddy's cock in your mouth," you reply.

You pin Eunha towards a garage door and violently fuck her face. You don't care about her head slamming hard against it; in face, the more, the better. Your thrusts are filled with rage, ready to teach that cheating bunny a lesson as your cock bulges under her throat and her head keeps slamming the wall. You then walk her around a bit and switch to doing that against the door of one of the parked cars. God, it's so good using that slutty bunny's pretty face like a toy.

You toy with Eunha, slapping your cock against her naughty tongue. That only makes her even hornier, as she seizes the opportunity to bob her head against your cock. "Calm down, little bunny," you say to her, quickly regaining control and pushing her to gag on your cock. "You're such a bad bunny," you say to Eunha, slapping her face.

"Tell me you want more," you ask Eunha. "I want more, Daddy," she answers. "Again," you reply, spitting in her face. "Please, I want more, Daddy. Give me that big cock; I want it inside me," she says with more detail this time. You push your cock a bit more on Eunha's mouth, and she answers by quickly bobbing her head on it, getting it perfectly wet for her fuckholes. She doesn't care about the cars passing through the lot and watching; all she wants is to be a good girl full of cock.

"Where do you want it first, pussy or ass?" you ask Eunha. "Pussy, daddy," she says, and you follow. You truly missed that tight pink hole of hers, groaning as soon as you get in. "And how do you say it?" you ask her. "Please, daddy, fuck my pussy," Eunha answers.

You pump Eunha's pussy at a steady pace, her making tons of effort not to moan and get noticed by someone else. Instead, you're the one groaning as her tight hole squeezes your fat cock quite hard. "Say thank you, Daddy," you tell her, giving her ass another spank. "Thank you, Daddy, for having such a big cock for this little bunny," she answers.

"Such a good whore, getting daddy's cock for everyone in the street to watch; I hope they film us and sell the tape," you say to Eunha. "Oh, oh, oh, ohhhh," Eunha softly moans as you attack her little pussy. You keep groaning as Eunha's walls tighten around your shaft, more so when you spank her ass.

"Come here, clean it," you say after a while. "You made my cock very dirty with that slutty pussy," you continue. Eunha promptly follows your orders, ducking down to taste her juices. "Good girl," you say as she licks the side of your shaft and then takes it deep in her throat before you grab her head and speed up the process by fucking her face.

You lift Eunha's right legs up and spread them until her boots hit the door of the car on the opposite side. With her in prime position, you get back to fuck her pussy from behind while reaching to grab her hair. You fuck her harder this time, Eunha's legs barely able to stay at the car's door while her pussy feels the wrath of your cock. "Are you struggling, whore? Maybe you shouldn't have cheated on me, stupid bunny," you say to her, spitting on her face.

You completely dominate Eunha, now reaching one hand to finger her pussy as you pound it. You fuck her full of rage, punishing her nonstop for being such a bad bunny. You now even stretch her mouth with both hands, humilating her at any possible opportunity.

"Get down, bitch, you are getting too much fun from my cock; now clean it again," you say to Eunha, stopping fucking her pussy and going straight to more facefucking. "Filthy little whore," you say, spitting on her face before doing some cock slapping and then face slapping. "Time to get on your feet; this round is over; I'm taking you somewhere else," you tell her.

You walk Eunha across the neighborhood, never missing a chance to spank her pale butt and make it even redder. You two finally reach your destination, a shabby alleway in front of some long abandoned buildings. You keep spanking her pussy and tits at the alleway. "You like it?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy, spank me; I'm a bad bunny," Eunha says.

You follow what she asks, hitting Eunha's whole pale body with a whip. Her thicc thigs, her beautiful face, her perky tits, her pink pussy, nothing escapes your wrath. "Turn around," you say, delivering some pain to her ass next. "Look at you; you're all dirty," you tell her. 

"Eunha, I'm still being very soft to you; you know I can spank you much harder than that, right?" you ask her. "Of course, daddy, spank me harder, I beg," she says. "Alright, I won't deny it," you tell her, hitting her ass at full speed now. Eunha seems to take it fairly easy. Her pale skin has made her the target of much spanking over the course of her career, to the point that she's addicted to it. "Daddy, I think you're going to make me cum just by spanking me," she says.

"Not yet; you aren't clear to cum yet. And you know what? This filthy alleway is the perfect place to clean your dirty hole," you say to her. "But first, you have to beg it for me," you tell Eunha.

"Please, daddy, fuck my ass," Eunha answers. You like that she already knows what hole you were talking about. "Say it again," you tell Eunha, but you actually block her from answering by shoving your cock in her mouth once again. "Please, daddy, fuck my tight, dirty, slutty ass," she says as soon as your cock is out of her mouth.

You turn Eunha around at the alleway and put your cock in her ass, her tight hole making you struggle to put in there. Eunha clings her head against the wall, trying to cope with your thrusts. "Ohhhh, ohhhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhhh, yesss," Eunha moans as you pick up the speed. You also groan, trying to dig deeper in her anus and pushing really hard. "I'm so thankful for having a daddy that fucks me so good in the ass," Eunha says in between meany moans.

"Holy sh*t, you're such a fucking tight bitch even though you get fucked in the ass every day," you say to Eunha. "Yes, daddy, I always make sure to make things very difficult for your big fat cock or for other cocks when I'm being a bad bunny and cheating on you," Eunha answers, confessing last night wasn't the first time she did it.

"Let me sit; I want to see you bouncing on that cock," you say to Eunha, never pulling out of her at any second. You lie on the dirty sidewalk floor as she impales her dirty butthole on your cock and rides it like a champ, giving you a privileged view of her fat ass. "Come on, stupid bitch, just bounce," you tell her. Eunha follows and picks up the pace, getting your cock all the way inside her tight asshole.

"Good girl," you say to Eunha as the sounds of her cheeks clapping on your pants get louder. "Yeah," she moans, grinning her teeth as your big cock seems to be too much for her tiny butthole.

"Get up," you tell Eunha, asking her to pull out of your cock. "Now sit down and suck it clean; I want you to get your dirty anus off my cock," you say to her, shoving it in her face once more and pushing her head against your manhood. "Fuck yeah, you like being fucked in the ass like this?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy," Eunha answers.

"There you go," you say as you force your cock balls deep in Eunha's mouth until she gags. She goes insane and starts licking your balls. "You're such a nasty girl, aren't you?" you ask her, grabbing your cock and slapping in on her face while spitting on her.

You fuck Eunha's pussy hard and fast for a little bit, punishing the slutty bunny with a hard pounding as a guy appears on the street. "Turn around, against the wall," you order to Eunha, letting the guy grope her tits while you spank her. Eunha bends over and shows her ass to the dude as you hit her big butt.

"Dirty slut, your punishment is far from over," you say to her, lifting the bar of her skirt. You take Eunha to a playground, tying her up to one of the equipments and putting a blindfold in her eyes. Eunha's body is completely suspended as you put your cock back in her ass. "I'm ready to use that asshole a little more," you say to her, toying as your cock goes in and out of her anus. 

"Fuck, ahhhh," Eunha moans as you thurst your cock deep in her ass and finger her horny cunt, her legs fully spread and suspended in the air as you fuck her ass in a missionary position. "Please, daddy, keep fucking my ass," a blindfolded Eunha says as you increase the pace, finger-fucking her pussy as well at the same pace you attack her asshole. You spank her pale butt like always, leading to more moans from the porcelain princess.

"Dadddy, can you fuck my pussy too?" Eunha asks. You accept it and switch holes, taking her cunt even harder as her body jiggles all over the playground equipment with the speed of your thrusts. Some kids appear at the playground, but you just don't care; to you, they will just be having a free class of sex education. Besides them, a stranger appears and gets side by side with you, who lets him finger Eunha's pussycat and eventually gets inside it.

You step aside as the stranger fucks Eunha's pussy. "Have fun," you tell him. The guy seizes the opportunity, pounding Eunha hard as you spit in her blindfolded face. "Stupid slut, can't resist any cock that comes in your way, can't you?" you say to Eunha, jerking your cock off and slapping on her face while the stranger fucks her hard and spanks her butt too.

"You like his cock, don't you?" you ask Eunha. "Yes, daddy, I can't help myself; I'm a bad bunny that loves cock," she answers. "Do you want him to cum in your pussy?" you ask her. "Yes, Daddy, would you let him?" she asks.

But the authrorization doesn't even need to come, as you inserting a vibrator on Eunha's clit makes her walls clench harder, making the stranger unable to resist as he fills her pussy full of his cum. You uncover Eunha's eyes, letting her enoy her cunt getting stuffed to the brim of a stranger's semen, much to her glee.

You and the stranger take Eunha under a shabbed railway bridge in the worst part of the neighborhood as you three go down an access stairway full of graffiti defacements and dirty walls. "Let's have some fun," you say, stripping Eunha fully naked and offering her to the strange. "Make him happy, you dirty slut," you continue, spanking her ass with the whip once more.

Eunha unbuttons the stranger's shorts, jerking his cock off until it gets hard again. She can feel the remnants of his sperm still covering his shaft. You get Eunha on her knees and push her to suck his cock; all that while you spank her back, make things worse for the horny bunny. Eunha savors his shaft under your watch as the stranger gropes her tits.

After some jerking off, you take your cock back in Eunha's pussy, making her get spit-roasted alongside the stranger. You fuck her furiously, spanking her tits and making her pay for being such a cockslut. Eunha gets completely bent over as she pleases both cocks.

"Where do you want our cum, you fucking slut?" you ask her. "In my ass," Eunha answers, prompting you to pull out and deliver her a nice fat load in her pretty slutty face as the stranger can't also resist the warmth of her mouth and soon glazes it with his cum. "What a cum bunny you are, dirty bitch," you say to her, spitting on her cum-filled face once again. "Thank him, bitch," you say to her. "Thank you," Eunha politely says to the stranger as he leaves.

The humiliation isn't over for Eunha though, far from it. You make her walk her across the neighborhood with both of your cum in her face, taking Eunha to the busiest square at the place. Where you take the jacket you had put on her and strip her completely naked once again, taking her back home with no clothes on.

Or so she thought.

To punish Eunha, you decide to go back where it all began, tying her to the garbage can as the pickup truck comes to take the used condoms she wore yesterday, showing what you truly think about her: a filthy, dirty, worthless horny whore that is completely disposable after sex.

A few hours later

It's freezing cold outside, and Eunha remains tied to the trash can. You finally have mercy on the little bunny and bring her back inside your house. Her skin is so pale now she looks like Snow White.

Eunha gets tied up and her body suspended in the air as you start to ask her some questions, ready for a night of dominance. "You look like such an innocent bunny; why are you here?" you start. "I want Daddy to give me as much pain as possible," she answers. "You better be very obedient, because if you don't behave, I'll deliver double the pain," you say to her.

"Yes, daddy, I'm so addicted to the way you spank my porcelain skin," Eunha says. You tease her, touching her body from top to bottom, before pinning her against the wall hard. "Look me in the eye and say it," you tell Eunha. "I want to be spanked, Daddy," Eunha answers. "Why, bunny?" you ask her. "Because I deserve it for being a bad cheating bunny," you say.

You start touching Eunha's pussy, edging her, and then stopping it. "You see, baby, I can give you the pleasure, but I can also take it away," you tell her. "Whatever you want, Daddy," Eunha says. "Then let me do it, Bunny," you say, making her moan hard. "AHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH," Eunha moans. "Are you going to cum?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy, I'm going to cum," she says.

"No, you're not," you tell Eunha, pulling your hands out of her pussy and denying her an orgasm. You bring out the vibrator and start stimulating her again, showing her your intentions. "I'm going to fuck your throat, your pussy and your ass; use you like a little toy; is that what you want?" you ask. "Yes, daddy," she answers.

"You wanna cum?" you ask her again. "DADDY, I'M GONNA CUM," she answers, begging for it as you put the vibrator in her pussy and spank her tits. "OHHHHH," she screams. "Is that what you want, little bunny? Then say it to me," you ask again. "I'M GONNA CUM, I'M GONNA CUM, I'M GONNA CUM, PLEASE DADDY LET ME CUM," she screams. "PLEASE DADDY, PLEASE," she keeps screaming, running out of breath.

You push Eunha's body down until her face gets lined up against your shaft, feeding her mouth with your cock. She bobs her head on it, but not for long as you take the initiative and fuck her throat until she gags, reaching it balls deep in her mouth. "Yes, daddy, feed me that big cock," Eunha begs and gets it as her face gets pounded like it's a second pussy and she chokes all over it.

"Open your fucking mouth, bunny," you say, spitting on Eunha's face. "Keep it open; I'll take it all the way down," you say as saliva comes out of Eunha's chin. You use it to lube your hands and massage her needy cunt until Eunha squirts all over the floor.

"Please, daddy, use me harder," Eunha says as you suspend her body back up, lining your cock to her pussy and inserting it inside her. "FUCK," Eunha gasps, already very sensitive from your edging session. "H YEAH, DADDY, USE MY PUSSY," Eunha says. "Beg harder," you tell her, pulling out after a couple thrusts. "PLEASE, DADDY, MAY I HAVE YOUR BIG FAT COCK IN MY SLUTTY BUNNY PUSSY?" Eunha screams.

"Do you think you're ready?" you say, spanking her pussy. "Yes, daddy, I'm more than ready," Eunha answers. You spank her butt and then go back in her pussy, grabbing her by the ass and fucking her hard, making her body shake as you clap hard against her cheeks. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!" Eunha screams nonstop. "AHHHHHHH," she says as she squirts on your naked body.

"Fucking taste it, you bunny slut," you tell Eunha, feeding her juices straight into her mouth. "You want more?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy, please, give me more," Eunha answers as you do just that, fucking her pussy hard. "OHHHHH YESSSS, MAKE ME CUM, DADDY," she moans.

"No," you stop. "You will only cum when I say so," you say, smacking her pussy and enjoying the squirting coming out of it. "AHHHHHH," Eunha screams as she cums. "Thank you, Daddy," she says, looking like an utterly submissive bunny.

You give more hard thrusts into Eunha's sensitive cunt, enjoying the clapping sounds that come out of your bodies colliding against each other. You choke her and then turn her around, starting spanking her fat ass cheeks. "AHHHHH, DADDDY," she screams. "Thank you, Daddy," she then says as they turn red.

"I didn't tell you to speak," you say to Eunha, kissing the bunny and punishing her by jerking your cock off against her clit, making her squirt before pounding her like a crazy. "OH GOD, YES, YES, YES, DADDDY," Eunha screamed. "Thank you, Daddy," she says again as you pull out and stare at her.

You untie Eunha, dropping her at the stairs of your house and opening her legs, tying her up to the handrail before you insert your cock in her ass. "Yes, daddy, please, fuck my ass," she begs. "Yes, daddy, stretch my ass," Eunha begs as you go deeper in it and spank her tits. "You're such a bad bunny," you say.

You show no mercy to Eunha's tight butthole, making things harder for the little bunny as you play with her pussy. "OH FUCK DADDY!" Eunha screams. She whispers inaudible words to you as you keep spanking her whole body. "AHHHHH," Eunha screams as you hit her nipples hard. You tease her cunt with more rubbing. "Ohhh, daddy, please, make me squirt," Eunha begs as you resume the anal pounding, leading her to moan with her mouth wide open.

"Fuck, yes, daddy, yes, daddy," Eunha moans as you now choke her and destroy her butthole. "AHHHHHH," Eunha screams as your cock hits the depths of her anus. You look at your dirty bunny girlfriend calling you Daddy, her pale skin now completely red. "Take every inch of your cock inside me, AHHHHHHH," Eunha moans. 

"Spank my tits, daddy, choke me," Eunha begs as you fuck her harder, getting more and more animalesque. "OHHHHHH," she screams as the spanking never stops. Her tits, her cheeks, her face—everything is a target.

"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, please, daddy, let me cum again," Eunha says, but you ignore her, saying focused on fucking her ass. Her thicc thighs and big butt are now almost with her flesh exposed after so much spanking.

"Oh yes," you say as Eunha starts letting out a geyser of squirt out of her pussy. "AHHHHHH," the little bunny screams as you stare at her wasted face, never pulling out of her ass and pushing it deep, making her squirt again almost as if the tip of your cock had pressed some kind of button buried in her anus. 

Eunha squirts multiple times with the anal session you give her. "OH GOD, FUCK ME, DADDY," she screams and begs. "Daddy, it feels so good," she says as you can't stop destroying her butthole and enjoy her squirt all over the stairs steps. "Fuck daddy, you use my ass so good; I want more; I'm a needy bunny for daddy's cock," Eunha says.

"Then turn around," you tell her. Eunha obliges as you tie her knees to the stairs, and your cock quickly finds her already sore butthole for more fun. "Oh yeah, you're so deep, daddy," Eunha moans, more so when you turn her cheeky butt into your prime target of spankings. Eunha's cheeks get massacred, getting hit every time you hit deep in her ass. You enjoy seeing the exposed red flesh from so many hits you deliver on them, only pushing you to go harder. Despite all that pounding, her asshole is still as tight as ever and queefs with your cock inside it. 

Spank, spank, spank. That's all you do now. "Daddy, you're gonna make me cum with so much spanking," Eunha says as she gets used like a little toy. A fuckbunny. "Pull my hair, Daddy," she pleads, and you follow. "I'm your dirty little slut daddy; yes, daddy, treat me like a free use fuckhole," she begs, her body shaking with the speed of your poundings.

"Daddy, you like making bunny cum?" Eunha asks you. "Yes, I love using that bunny until she cums," you tell her, staying focused on pounding her ass. Eunha is completely wasted, but she doesn't want you to stop, jiggling her butt as you fuck it. "I'M CUMMING FOR YOU, DADDY," Eunha announces. You slow down, toying with her gaped anus going in and out of it, giving her sensitive hole a little stabbing. 

But your kindness is short-lived. You soon mount on top of Eunha and deliver her the most aggressive anal pounding of the night. "OH FUCK, YOU'RE HITTING ME SO DEEP, DADDY," she screams. Eunha's ass gets used hard as you are like a raging bull fucking a cow—I mean, a bunny. Your thrusts are full of energy and power, making Eunha roll her eyes as she struggles to cope with the heat.

"I'll do anything for you, Daddy," Eunha says. "Well, then let me use that big, fat, cheeky, red ass," you say, tossing all adjectives about her butt while pounding it hard. "I'm a bad bunny," Eunha says. "Yes, you are," you tell her, choking your slutty girlfriend.

"AHHHHHH," Eunha moans as she cums again. You spank her butt multiple times after pulling out of her ass. "Yes, daddy, harder," she begs. "You want more?" you ask her. "Yes," she answers. "Beg," you reply. "Yes, daddy, please, give me more; spank me like a bad bunny, harder," she says.

After beating Eunha's cheeks like a drum, you reach to finger her throbbing pussy, making her moan and then hitting her every time she screams. "Stay quiet, bitch, I'm going to punish you," you answer, getting back in Eunha's ass and fucking her like crazy, showing no mercy for her and not getting her feeling getting in the way of your anal destruction. "Oh yeah, daddy, you fuck that tight little asshole so well," she says.

The stairs creak as Eunha screams and groans. You finally stop as Eunha begs you to cum again, whispering like a needy bunny. "I need you; I need you; please, Daddy," she says, very out of breath.

"Then come here," you tell Eunha, tying her arms to the ceilling by a chain. "That's right, bunny, sit right down this cock," you command to her as Eunha drops down it with her ass. "OHHHHHHH," she gasps as your length impales her. "Ohhhhh, daddy, ahhhh," Eunha moans as she starts bouncing on it, her legs spread at 180 degrees. "Oh fuck, it feels so good in my ass," she moans.

"That's it, little bunny; now I'm taking control," you say, pounding her from down low. "AHHHHHHH," Eunha squeals as your cock drills her asshole one final time. You manhandle her queefing anus, groaning like a monster and massaging her cunt to make her squirt. "OHHHHHH FUCKKKK!" Eunha screams. She gets pounded to oblivion, losing sight of her surroundings.

"YES DADDY, YES, DADDY, YES DADDY, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, I'M GONNA CUM," Eunha says, losing her breath and grinding on your cock. "Please, make me cum," Eunha moans as she's basically levitating with your thursts. "Take it all," you say, your balls smashing against her clit. "Yes, daddy, I will take all that cock in my a... fuck," Eunha moans. You and her reach orgasm at the same time as she squirts on your body and you explode inside her asshole.

Eunha grinds on your cock as your cum flows out of her asshole. You free her and start jerking your cock off against her face. "I think I'm going to cum again; you're just too sexy, Eunha," you say to her. "Cum for me, daddy, cum for your little bunny," she says, sticking her tongue out. Her pretty face begging for it makes you lose it again, covering her blonde hair and sexy face with your white seed shortly after again.

"Thank you, Daddy," Eunha says as she licks your shaft and cleans it one final time. You go to bed and leave Eunha lying on the floor at the stairs, her body full of cum as you finish punishing that bad bunny. "You'll be sleeping here tonight," you say to her.

"The next day you wake up and don't find Eunha there, until you go to the kitchen and find a scene that makes you spill your milk: Eunha upside down and completely tied up. As she sees you, she asks you something.

"Daddy, can you punish me again?"

[badnewswhatsleft]

rock sound #312 (nov 2024)

transcript below cut:

ROCK SOUND 25 ICON

FALL OUT BOY

A BAND THAT CAPTURED THE HEARTS, MINDS AND HEADPHONES OF A GENERATION OF KIDS WORLDWIDE, FALL OUT BOY UNDOUBTEDLY CHANGED THE LANDSCAPE OF THE ALTERNATIVE SCENE FOREVER, NEVER AFRAID TO EXPERIMENT, TAKE CHANCES AND MAKE BOLD CHOICES AS THEY PUSHED FORWARD. FOLLOWING A SUMMER SPENT EXPLORING THE 'DAYS OF FALL OUT PAST', PATRICK STUMP AND PETE  WENTZ REFLECT ON THEIR PATH FROM POP PUNK, HARDCORE MISFITS TO ALL-CONQUERING, STADIUM-FILLING SONGWRITERS AS THEY ACCEPT THEIR ROCK SOUND 25 ICON AWARD.

WORDS JAMES WILSON-TAYLOR

PHOTOS ELLIOTT INGHAM

Let's begin with your most recent performance which was at When We Were Young festival in Las Vegas. It was such a special weekend, how are you reflecting on that moment?

PATRICK: It's wild, because the band, I think, is going on 23 years now, which really came as a surprise to me. I know it's this thing that old people always say, 'Man, it really goes by so fast', but then it happens to you and you're just taken aback. There were so many times throughout the weekend, every 10 minutes, where I'd turn around and see somebody and be like, 'Holy shit, I haven't seen you in 18 years', or something crazy like that. It was hard not to have a good time. When I was going up to perform with Motion City Soundtrack, which was an exciting thing in itself, I turn around and Bayside is there. And I haven't seen Bayside since we toured with them. God, I don't remember when that was, you know? So there was so much of that. You couldn't help but have a good time.

PETE: I mean, that's an insane festival, right? When they announce it, it looks fake every time. The lineup looks like some kid drew it on their folder at school. For our band, the thing that's a little weird, I think, is that by deciding to change between every album, and then we had the three year break which caused another big time jump, I think that it would be hard for us to focus on one album for that show. We're a band where our fans will debate the best record. So it was amazing that we were able to look backwards and try to build this show that would go through all the eras - nod to Taylor obviously on that one. But it's also an insane idea to take a show that should really be put on for one weekend in a theatre and then try to take it around the world at festivals. The whole time on stage for this particular show production, I'm just like 'Is this thing going to go on time?' Because if the whole thing is working totally flawlessly, it just barely works, you know what I mean? So I give a lot of credit to our crew for doing that, because it's not really a rock show. I know we play rock music and it's a rock festival, but the show itself is not really a rock production, and our crew does a very good job of bending that to fit within the medium.

That show allows you to nod to the past but without falling fully into nostalgia. You are still pushing the band into newer places within it.

PATRICK: That's always been a central thing. We're a weird band, because a lot of bands I know went through a period of rejecting their past, and frankly, I encounter this thing a lot, where people have expected that we stopped interacting with older material. But we always maintained a connection with a lot of the older music. We still close with 'Saturday'. So for us, it was never about letting go of the past. It was about bringing that along with you wherever you go. I'm still the same weird little guy that likes too much music to really pin down. It's just that I've carried that with me through all the different things that I've done and that the band has done. So for us, in terms of going forward and playing new stuff, that's always the thing that's important to me; that there should be new stuff to propel it. I never wanted to be an artist that just gave up on new music and went out and played the hits and collected the check and moved on. It's all got to be creative. That's why I do it. I want to make new music. That's always why I do it. So something like When We Were Young is kind of odd really. It's an odd fit for that, because it's nostalgic, which is not really my vibe all that much. But I found a lot of nostalgia in it. I found a lot of value in looking back and going 'Wow, this was really cool. It was amazing that we did this, that we all did this'. That scene of bands, we're all old now, but it has taken off into such a moment culturally that people can point to.

Let's jump all the way back to the first ever Fall Out Boy show. There is very little evidence of it available online but what are your memories of that performance?

PATRICK: So the very first Fall Out Boy show was at DePaul University in a fancy looking dining hall. I actually applied to DePaul, but I never went there because the band went on tour. I think there were only two or three other bands. One was a band called Stillwell, who were kind of a math rock emo band, and then this heavier, more metallic band. And then we were there, and we had a guitar player, John Flamandan, who I have not seen since that show. He was only in the band for a week or two, and we were still figuring ourselves out. We had three songs and I had never sung before in front of people. I did a talent show at school one time when I was a kid and theatre kind of stuff where you would sing, but it was more in that context. And I was also a kid too. This was the first time ever that I'm the singer for a band and I was fucking terrified. We had a drummer named Ben Rose, really great guy. I haven't seen Ben in a million years, either, but we were still figuring ourselves out. The other thing is that all of us, with me being the exception, were in other bands, and all of our other bands were better than Fall Out Boy was. We were very sloppy and didn't know what we were doing, and so I don't think any of us really took it seriously. But there was a thing that was really funny about it, where even though we kind of thought we sucked, and even though we weren't really focusing on it, we had a lot of fun with each other. We enjoyed trying this other thing, because we were hardcore kids, and we were not the pop punk kids and the pop punk bands in town, that was like 'the thing', and we were not really welcome in that. There was a fun in trying to figure out how to make melodic and pop music when we really didn't have any history with that. It was very obvious that we didn't know what we were doing at the beginning.

So when did it begin to feel like things were finally clicking? When did you find your roles and what you wanted the band to be? 

PETE: In regards to the music, I liked Fall Out boy, way before I probably should have. I remember playing the early demos and it giving me a feeling that I hadn't felt with any of the other bands that I had been in. Now, looking back on it, I might have been a tad early on that. Then as far as the roles, I think that they've been carving themselves out over time. We've always allowed ourselves to gravitate to our strengths. Between me and Patrick, we'd probably make one great, atypical rock artist if we were one person. Because our strengths are things that the other doesn't love as much. But I think that what has happened more is it's less of a fight now and there's more trust. We have a trust with each other. There's things that Patrick will play for me or explain to me, and I don't even really need him to explain it, because I trust him. I may not totally understand it, but I trust him as an artist. On the other side of that, it's also very nice to have someone who can veto your idea, you know what I mean? It's nice to have those kind of checks and balances.

PATRICK: I had been in this band called Patterson, and all three of the other guys sang in kind of a gravelly, Hot Water Music vibe. I was not intending to be a singer, but I would try and sing backups and, it wasn't a criticism, but there was this vibe that, while I could do the gravelly thing, my voice was coming through and it didn't fit. It was too pretty and that became a thing I was kind of embarrassed of. So when Fall Out Boy started, I was actively trying to disguise that and mute it and hide behind affectation. Pete would really push me to stretch my vowels because that was in vogue in pop punk at the time. There were all these different ways that we were trying to suppress me, musically, because we were just trying to figure out how to do the things that the bands we liked did. But that wasn't really us, you know? It's really funny, because 'Take This To Your Grave' was recorded in three sections, about six months apart. Over the course of that time, I can hear us figuring it out. I think a really defining moment for me was 'Saturday', because I am not brave, I am not a bold person, and I do not put myself out there. When I was showing the band 'Saturday', we were jamming on the bit after the second chorus, and I was mumbling around, just mucking my way through it, and I did the falsetto thing. I didn't think anyone could hear me over us bashing around in Joe's parents house in this tiny little room. But Pete stopped, and he goes, 'Do that again'. I was so terrified of doing that in front of these guys, because you gotta remember, I was incredibly shy, but also a drummer. I'd never sung in front of anyone before, and now I'm singing in a band and I'm certainly not going to take chances. So I thought the falsetto thing was really not going to happen, but when I did it, there was this really funny thing. Somehow that song clicked, and it opened up this door for us where we do something different than everybody else. We were aiming to be a pop punk or hardcore band, but we found this thing that felt more natural to me.

As you embarked on Warped Tour, simultaneously you were finding this huge level of pop and mainstream success. How was it navigating and finding your way through those two very different spaces?

PATRICK: I used to work at a used record store and what shows up is all the records after their success. So I got really acquainted and really comfortable with and prepared for the idea of musical failure. I just wanted to do it because I enjoyed doing it. But in terms of planning one's life, I was certain that I would, at most, get to put out a record and then have to go to school when it didn't work out. My parents were very cautious. I said to them after 'Take This To Your Grave' came out that I'm gonna see where this goes, because I didn't expect to be on a label and get to tour. I'm gonna give it a semester, and then it will almost certainly fail, and then after it fails, I'll go to school. And then it didn't fail. Warped Tour was very crazy too, I was talking about this at When We Were Young with My Chem. Both of us were these little shit bands that no one cared about when we booked the tour. Then we got to the tour, and all these people were showing up for us, way more than we expected, way more than Warped Tour expected. So Warped Tour was putting both of us on these little side stages, and the stages would collapse because people were so excited. It was this moment that came out of nowhere all of a sudden. Then we go to Island Records, and I had another conversation with my parents, because every band that I had known up to that point, even the biggest bands in town, they would have their big indie record and then they would go to the major label and drop off the face of the planet forever. So I was certain that was going to happen. I told them again, I'm going to put out this record, and then I'll go to school when this fails. 

PETE: I think that if you really wanted someone to feel like an alien, you would put them on TRL while they were on Warped Tour. You know what I mean? Because it is just bananas. On our bus, the air conditioning didn't work, so we were basically blowing out heat in the summer, but we were just so happy to be on a bus and so happy to be playing shows. You go from that to, two days later, stepping off the bus to brush your teeth and there's a line of people wanting to watch you brush your teeth. In some ways, it was super cool that it was happening with My Chemical Romance too because it didn't feel as random, right? It feels more meant to be. It feels like something is happening. To be on Warped Tour at that time - and if you weren't there, it would be probably hard to imagine, because it's like if Cirque Du Soleil had none of the acrobatics and ran on Monster energy drink. It was a traveling circus, but for it to reach critical mass while we were there, in some ways, was great, because you're not just sitting at home. In between touring, I would come home and I'd be sitting in my bedroom at my parents house. I would think about mortality and the edge of the whole thing and all these existential thoughts you feel when you're by yourself. But on Warped Tour, you go to the signing, you play laser tag, you go to the radio station. So in some ways, it's like you're in this little boot camp, and you don't really even think about anything too much. I guess it was a little bit of a blur.

Pete, when you introduced 'Bang The Doldrums' at When We Were Young, you encouraged the crowd to 'keep making weird shit'. That could almost be a mantra for the band as a whole. Your weirder moments are the ones that made you. Even a song like 'Dance Dance' has a rhythm section you never would have expected to hear on a rock track at that time.

PETE: You know, I just watched 'Joker 2' and I loved it. I do understand why people wouldn't because it subverts the whole thing. It subverts everything about the first one. That's something I've always really loved, when I watch artists who could keep making the same thing, and instead they make something that's challenging to them or challenging to their audience. Sometimes you miss, sometimes you do a big thing and you miss, and we've definitely done that. But I gotta say, all the things that I've really loved about art and music, and that has enriched my life, is when people take chances. You don't get the invention of anything new without that. To not make weird stuff would feel odd, and I personally would much rather lose and miss doing our own thing. To play it safe and cut yourself off around the edges and sand it down and then miss also, those are the worst misses, because you didn't even go big as yourself. This is where we connect with each other, we connect by our flaws and the little weird neuroses that we have. I rarely look at something and go 'Wow, that safe little idea really moved me'. I guess it happens, but I think about this with something like 'Joker 2' where this director was given the keys and you can just do anything. I think a lot of times somebody would just make an expected follow up but some people turn right when they're supposed to turn left. That's always been interesting on an artistic level, but at the same time, I think you're more likely to miss big when you do that.

PATRICK: Going into 'From Under The Cork Tree', I had this sense that this is my only shot. It has already outperformed what I expected. I don't want to be locked into doing the same thing forever, because I know me. I know I'm not Mr. Pop Punk, that's just one of many things I like. So I would be so bummed if for the rest of my life, I had to impersonate myself from when I was 17 and have to live in that forever. So I consciously wanted to put a lot of weird stuff on that record because I thought it was probably my only moment. 'Sugar, We're Goin Down' was a fairly straight ahead pop punk song but even that was weird for us, because it was slow. I remember being really scared about how slow it was, because it's almost mosh tempo for the whole song, which was not anything we had done up to that point. But in every direction, in every song, I was actively trying to push the boundaries as much as I could. 'Dance, Dance' was one of those ones where I was seeing what I can get away with, because I might never get this chance again. We were on tour with a friend's band, and I remember playing the record for them. I remember specifically playing 'Our Lawyer…' that opens the record, which has that 6/8 time feel, and they kind of look at me, like 'What?'. Then I played 'Dance, Dance', and they're like, 'Hey man, you know, whatever works for you. It's been nice knowing you'. But I just knew that, on the off chance that I ended up still being a musician in my 40s, I wanted to still love the music that we made. I didn't want to ever resent it. It's ironic because people say that bands sell out when they don't make the same thing over and over again. But wait a second. Say that again. Think about that.

That attitude seemed to carry directly into 'Infinity On High'. If you may never end up doing this again then let's make sure we bring in the orchestra while we still can... 

PATRICK: That was literally something that I did say to myself this might be the last time, the likelihood is we're going to fail because that's what happens, so this might be the last time that I ever get a chance to have somebody pay for an orchestra and a choir. I always think of The Who when they did 'A Quick One, While He's Away' and there's a part where they go 'cello, cello', because they couldn't afford real cellos, they couldn't afford players. That's what I thought would happen for me in life. So I went in and thought, let's do it all. Let's throw everything at the wall, because there's no chance that it's going to happen again. So many things came together on that record, but I didn't expect it. 'Arms Race' was a very weird song, and I was shocked when management went along with it and had kind of decided that would be the single. I was in disbelief. It did not feel like a single but it worked for us. It was a pretty big song and then 'Thnks Fr Th Mmrs' was easily the big hit off that record. So then we have two hit songs off of an album that I didn't even know would come out at that point. But again, it was very much just about taking the risks and seeing what the hell happened.

As you went on hiatus for a few years, you worked on a number of other creative projects. How did those end up influencing your approach to the band when you returned?

PETE: On the areas of the band where I led, I wanted to be a better leader. When you're younger and you're fighting for your ideas, I don't think that I was the greatest listener. I just wanted to be a better cog in the machine. When you're in a band originally, no one gives you the little band handbook and says 'these are the things you should do', you know? I just wanted to be a better version of who I was in the band. 

PATRICK: There's a combination of things. 'Soul Punk' is a weird record. I love that record but I kind of resent that record for so many things. It's my solo record, but it's also not very me in a lot of ways. I had started with a very odd little art rock record, and then I had some personal tragedies happen. My EP that I put out far out sold expectations so then all of a sudden, Island Records goes, 'Oh, we think this could actually be something we want singles for'. I think we had all expected that I would be putting out a smaller indie record but then all of a sudden they were like 'oh, you could be a pop star'. So then I have to retrofit this art rock record into pop star hit music, and also channel personal tragedy through it. I hadn't ever really been a front man - I'd been a singer, but I hadn't really been a front man, and I hadn't really written lyrics, certainly not introspective, personal lyrics. So that whole record is so strange and muted to me. So I went from that album, which also failed so fucking hard - I should have gone to school after that one. But Pete had reached out to me just as a friend, and said 'I know you're in your own thing right now, and I know that you're not the kind of person that is going to be in my fantasy football league, so I'm not going to see you unless we make music. But you're my buddy, and that kind of bums me out that I don't see you at all, so I guess we have to make music'. I thought that was a fairly convincing pitch. It's true, that was what we do when we hang out - we make music. So we reconvene, and going into it, I had all these lessons that really made me understand Pete better, because Pete is the natural front end person. So many of our arguments and frustrations and the things that we didn't see eye to eye on, I grew to understand having now been in the position of the point man that had to make all the decisions for my solo thing. It really flipped my understanding of why he said the things he would say, or why he did things he would do. I remember early on thinking he was so pushy, but then, in retrospect, you realise he was doing it for a reason. There's so many little things that really changed for me doing 'Soul Punk' that were not musical but were more about how you run a band and how you run a business, that made me understand and respect him a lot more.

What are memories of that initial return and, specifically, that tiny first show back at the Metro venue in Chicago?

PETE: Those first shows were definitely magical because I really wasn't sure that we would be on a stage again together. I don't have as many memories of some of our other first things. We were just talking about Warped Tour, I don't have many memories of those because it is almost wasted on you when it's a blur and there's so many things happening. But with this, I really wanted to not take it for granted and wanted to take in all the moments and have snapshots in our own heads of that show. I did a lot of other art during the time when we were off, everybody did, but there's a magic between the four of us and it was nice to know that it was real. When we got on that stage again at the Metro for the first time, there was something that's just a little different. I can't really put my finger on it, but it makes that art that we were making separately different than all the other stuff.

Musically, as you moved forward, everything sounded much bigger, almost ready for arenas and stadiums. Was that a conscious decision on your part?

PETE: Patrick felt like he was bursting with these ideas. It felt like these had been lying in wait, and they were big, and they were out there, and whether he'd saved them for those records, I don't really know. That's what it felt like to me. With 'Save Rock And Roll', we knew we had basically one shot. There were really three options; you'll have this other period in your career, no one will care or this will be the torch that burns the whole thing down. So we wanted to have it be at least on our terms. Then I think with 'American Beauty...' it was slightly different, because we made that record as fast as we could. We were in a pop sphere. Is there a way for a band to be competitive with DJs and rappers in terms of response time? Are we able to be on the scene and have it happen as quickly? I think it kind of made us insane a little bit. With 'American Beauty…', we really realised that we were not going to walk that same path in pop culture and that we would need to 'Trojan horse' our way into the conversation in some way. So we thought these songs could be played in stadiums, that these songs could be end titles. What are other avenues? Because radio didn't want this right now, so what are other avenues to make it to that conversation? Maybe this is just in my head but I thought 'Uma Thurman' could be a sister song to 'Dance, Dance' or maybe even 'Arms Race' where it is weird but it has pop elements to it.

PATRICK: I had a feeling on 'Save Rock And Roll' that it was kind of disjointed. It was a lot of good songs, but they were all over the place. So when we went into 'American Beauty…', I really wanted to make something cohesive. I do think that record is very coherent and very succinct - you either like it or you don't, and that's pretty much it all the way through. By the time we got to 'MANIA', I had done all this production and I'd started to get into scoring. The band had done so many things and taken so many weird chances that I just felt free to do whatever. At that point, no one's going to disown me if I try something really strange so let's see what happens. 'Young And Menace' was a big part of that experiment. People hate that song, and that's okay. It was meant to be challenging, it's obviously not supposed to be a pop song. It's an abrasive song, it should not have been a single. However, I do think that record should have been more like that. Towards the end of the production, there was this scramble of like, 'Oh, fuck, we have no pop music on this and we need to have singles' and things like that. That took over that record and became the last minute push. I think the last half of that record was recorded in the span of two weeks towards the end of the recording to try and pad it with more pop related songs. I look at that record and think it should have all been 'Young And Menace'. That should have been our 'Kid A' or something. It should have really challenged people.

But we have spoken before about how 'Folie à Deux' found its audience much later. It does feel like something similar is already beginning to happen with 'MANIA'...

PETE: I agree with you, and I think that's a great question, because I always thought like that. There's things that you're not there for, but you wish you were there. I always thought about it when we put out 'MANIA', because I don't know if it's for everyone, but this is your moment where you could change the course of history, you know, this could be your next 'Folie à Deux', which is bizarre because they're completely different records. But it also seems, and I think I have this with films and bands and stuff as well, that while one thing ascends, you see people grab onto the thing that other people wouldn't know, right? It's like me talking about 'Joker 2' - why not talk about the first one? That's the one that everybody likes. Maybe it's contrarian, I don't really know. I just purely like it. I'm sure that's what people say about 'Folie à Deux' and 'MANIA' as well. But there's something in the ascent where people begin to diverge, you are able to separate them and go 'Well, maybe this one's just for me and people like me. I like these other ones that other people talk about, but this one speaks to me'. I think over time, as they separate, the more people are able to say that. And then I can say this, because Patrick does music, I think that sometimes he's early on ideas, and time catches up with it a little bit as well. The ideas, and the guest on the record, they all make a little bit more sense as time goes on.

'MANIA' is almost the first of your albums designed for the streaming era. Everything is so different so people could almost pick and choose their own playlist.

PETE: Of course, you can curate it yourself. That's a great point. I think that the other point that you just made me think of is this was the first time where we realised, well, there's not really gatekeepers. The song will raise its hand, just like exactly what you're saying. So we should have probably just had 'The Last Of The Real Ones' be an early single, because that song was the one that people reacted to. But I think that there was still the old way of thinking in terms of picking the song that we think has the best chance, or whatever. But since then, we've just allowed the songs to dictate what path they take. I think that that's brilliant. If I'd had a chance to do that, curate my own record and pick the Metallica songs or whatever,that would be fantastic. So it was truly a learning experience in the way you release art to me.

PATRICK: After 'MANIA', I realised Fall Out Boy can't be the place for me to try everything. It's just not. We've been around for too long. We've been doing things for too long. It can't be my place to throw everything at the wall. There's too much that I've learned from scoring and from production now to put it all into it. So the scoring thing really became even more necessary. I needed it, emotionally. I needed a place to do everything, to have tubas and learn how to write jazz and how to write for the first trumpet. So then going into 'So Much (For) Stardust', it had the effect of making me more excited about rock music again, because I didn't feel the weight of all of this musical experimentation so I could just enjoy writing a rock song. It's funny, because I think it really grew into that towards the end of writing the record. I'd bet you, if we waited another month, it would probably be all more rock, because I had a rediscovered interest in it.

It's interesting you talk about the enjoyment of rock music again because that joy comes through on 'So Much (For) Stardust' in a major way, particularly on something like the title track. When the four of you all hit those closing harmonies together, especially live, that's a moment where everything feels fully cohesive and together and you can really enjoy yourselves. There's still experimental moments on the album but you guys are in a very confident and comfortable space right now and it definitely shows in the music. 

PATRICK: Yeah, I think that's a great point. When you talk about experimentation too and comfort, that's really the thing isn't it? This is always a thing that bugged me, because I never liked to jam when I was a kid. I really wanted to learn the part, memorise it and play it. Miles Davis was a side man for 20 years before he started doing his thing. You need to learn the shit out of your music theory and your instrument - you need to learn all the rules before you break them. I always had that mindset. But at this point, we as a band have worked with each other so much that now we can fuck around musically in ways that we didn't used to be able to and it's really exciting. There's just so much I notice now. There are ways that we all play that are really hard to describe. I think if you were to pull any one of the four of us out of it, I would really miss it. I would really miss that. It is this kind of alchemy of the way everyone works together. It's confidence, it's also comfort. It's like there's a home to it that I feel works so well. It's how I'm able to sing the way I sing, or it's how Andy's able to play the way he plays. There's something to it. We unlock stuff for each other.

Before we close, we must mention the other big live moment you had this year. You had played at Download Festival before but taking the headline slot, especially given the history of Donington, must have felt extra special. 

PETE: It felt insane. We always have a little bit of nerves about Download, wondering are we heavy enough? To the credit of the fans and the other bands playing, we have always felt so welcomed when we're there. There's very few times where you can look back on a time when... so, if I was a professional baseball player, and I'm throwing a ball against the wall in my parents garage as a kid, I could draw a direct link from the feeling of wanting to do that. I remember watching Metallica videos at Donington and thinking 'I want to be in Metallica at Donington'. That's not exactly how it turned out, but in some ways there is that direct link. On just a personal level, my family came over and got to see the festival. They were wearing the boots and we were in the mud. All this stuff that I would describe to them sounds insane when you tell your family in America - 'It's raining, but people love it'. For them to get to experience that was super special for me as well. We played the biggest production we've ever had and to get to do that there, the whole thing really made my summer.

PATRICK: There's not really words for it. It feels so improbable and so unlikely. Something hit me this last year, this last tour, where I would get out on stage and I'd be like, 'Wait, fucking seriously? People still want to see us and want to hear us?' It feels so strange and surreal. I go home and I'm just some schlubby Dad and I have to take out the compost and I have to remember to run the dishwasher. I live this not very exciting life, and then I get out there at Download and it's all these people. Because I'm naturally kind of shy, for years, I would look down when I played because I was so stressed about what was happening. Confidence and all these have given me a different posture so when I go out there, I can really see it, and it really hits you. Download, like you said, we've done before, but there's something very different about where I am now as a person. So I can really be there. And when you walk out on that stage, it is astounding. It forces you to play better and work harder, because these people waited for us. The show is the audience and your interaction with it. In the same way that the band has this alchemy to it, we can't play a show like that without that audience.

[vieoeil-riae]

get clean, get dirty

steb/fem!reader

warnings: shower sex, oral sex (fem!receiving), mutual pining, selectively mute!steb, steb has a cool less-human tongue ;), flirty!reader, 18+ MDNI, 4.1k words

synopsis: in the crescendo of a flirt, you finally push the right buttons to put steb's fantasies of your wet body under his touch in motion

read on ao3 | ao3 profile | ao3 collection

You stuck to Steb’s side like glue on the long walk back to his place. Dead silent in the setting sun, the dusky light doing nothing to hide the dusty pink hue that played on his pretty cheekbones.

Silence was well made up for in the way your hands were tightly entwined and your bodies pressed close to one another. There was a buzz between you, electric, ecstatic, that made your heart flutter and your breathing turn more and more stuttery the closer you got to your goal.

And while Steb was much better at schooling his face, he wasn’t fairing much better than you. Gripping your hand just a bit too tight and taking quicker, longer strides than he usually would. You smiled at that, months of teasing and chatting and fluttering lashes getting you exactly where you wanted.

Months, almost a year, of flirting with the cute enforcer you just couldn’t help but notice around. Learning how to read him where words failed him, exploring every inch of himself that he’d give you; it was like solving the most satisfying puzzle, with the most gratifying rewards of teasing him and watching his face flush, understanding him and watching the relief soak his features.

Maybe you’d pushed it today. You were loitering around a community hall the force used for hand-to-hand training and the likes, your presence coming to be expected by Steb’s colleagues who seemed to enjoy having you around — if only because it meant they could rag on him for the cute chick who followed him around like a clingy cat.

Chattier and more verbally confident than him, you’d taken it upon yourself to commentate on his round, wolf-whistling and throwing him a sultry wink as he pinned a colleague to the ground. It was encouraging, in your defense.

The breaking point must’ve been the very end of the session. Steb, clad in a compression shirt — that fit him much too nicely for you not to ogle — walked right up to you, his face read ‘really?’ in deadpan disbelief that you’d be so bold here. But the bright blush on his cheeks told a different story, one you couldn’t help but smirk at.

“Hey, Stebby.” You chirped innocently, a grin taking over your face that went from perfectly bright to rather devious. “You stink. You gonna shower soon?”

His eyebrows quirked, as almost invasive as you were, you hadn’t asked questions like that before. He nodded once, firmly, but with a cautious pinch of his brows and a barely noticeable downturn of his lips. What were you playing at?

“Mmm, sounds nice,” you cooed thoughtfully, “can I join you?”

The question, said much more seriously than your usual flirts, hit Steb like a sack of bricks. It showed on his face as his eyes widened in surprise and his blush became ferocious. You adored the way his lips dropped open ever so slightly, staring at him expectantly through your eyelashes.

“Is that a no?” A flirt you were, but a creep you were not. Sometimes you felt like you overstepped, so the least you could do was give him an out.

In Steb’s mind, an out was the last thing he wanted. Cocky, chatty, everything he wasn’t and he should’ve found you intolerable but for months you had occupied his mind in a hostile takeover. You knocked the sense out of his head. He dreamed of you, every part; softly sharing space to tangling in each other with burning passion.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you in that way before on his own terms, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined how your skin would look damp, dripping with water and sweat. Your skin looked so soft, it must feel like heaven under hot water.

He’d probably die before he’d admit he kept getting stuck on the thought of your bare, wet, hot body pressed flush with his — gasping at the feeling of your back meeting the cold shower tiles and your tits squashed against his firm chest. You seemed to love the way he pinned down his peers in training, surely your hand would find a harsh purchase twisting in his hair as he pinned you to the wall and took you standing.

The insinuation that you wanted that too was testing Steb more than anything ever had before. It took an immense amount of self control to not act rashly in that hall, as much as he wanted to shut you up in a searing kiss.

That conflict was entirely internal. You stared up at him in mild worry as you watched as his eyes glazed like he wasn’t grounded anymore — the frills on his cheekbones twitching out of time before he found the way out of his thoughts.

His eyes held a fire you hadn’t seen before, it froze you solid. Steb shook his head, a smug look encompassing his features. He jerked his head towards the door, not taking his eyes off you. An invitation, a dare. 

Just what buttons had you pressed to provoke him into returning the challenge? You pondered the thought the whole way.

You watched as he fumbled with his keys, delighting in the huff he let out and the frustrated twinge of his lips. 

The smug look on your face was wiped off the second you were pulled inside; Steb had you caged between him and the wall in seconds, his face closer to yours than it had ever been before with a flicker of his eyes tracing your face. You could see the occasional blink of his third eyelids, speechless at the way they glistened — god, he was so pretty. Your breathing sped up, begging for you to breathe him in.

The smell of his sweat was fainter than you thought it would be, but you could still smell him and that with the strands of hair that were starting to fall in his face were a dangerous combo. He shed his jacket, leaving him in his tight shirt and the bottom half of his usual uniform.

Steb was bad for your heart, especially with the way you could see a sliver of skin where his pants hung lower than they should on his hips.

He shot you an accusatory stare. The tilt of his head, so sweet normally, was almost intimidating with how slowly, purposefully, he moved. He let the silence do the work for him, let it get you rambling — it was cute that he finally made you trip up on your words. You were so suave normally.

“I- Uh- You… planning on taking that seriously?” You swallowed, afraid of if you’d messed up but so starstruck with this new side of Steb. He was so… sweet, sort of passive usually, content with letting you take the initiative in your interactions — the switch up had you stumbling, but you weren’t complaining.

You’d seen a flash of a more commandeering self lurking beneath his quiet exterior more than once. It had done a number on you the first time; the way his eyes narrowed and the sudden and confident intentionality of his movements had taken the air from your lungs. You found yourself the object of that focused stare now, and it was making you weak in the knees.

Without breaking eye contact, he crowded you closer, your noses a scant few centimetres apart. One brow raised, his eyelids drooping in a way you’d only dreamed of before, his eyes searched your face for permission. Your glittering eyes gave it readily.

His lips met yours, softer than you thought they would, but as you bit at his bottom lip you could feel him leaning into you. Your eyes fluttered shut and your head knocked against the wall, you stayed connected for a moment longer before Steb slowly pulled away. 

You had half a mind left to chase his lips, but the sweet touch of one of his fingers against your chin felt too good to protest. His head tilted, a slight nod gesturing down the hall — kissed silly, you were having a hard time stringing what he wanted together. 

Tracing down the shape of your body, his hand found yours again and loosely held, Steb pulled you down the hall. You fell into step quickly however, and it didn’t take you long to reach the door he was intent on finding. Pushing it open, your mouth dropped. His bathroom. He wasn’t kidding about taking you up on the offer.

You turned back to him, mouth open. Disheveled, he leaned against the door frame quietly observing you with intense eyes, your breath caught in your throat. What a figure he was…

You shuffled into the room, curious, almost bashful. When you looked over your shoulder at him, with hot cheeks and an inviting tilt of your head, it was like you were trying to kill him. You were right where he wanted you, like something out of one of his dreams. Every time you met his eyes again you made his cock ache just a little more.

Steb followed you in soon enough, leaning around you to turn the shower on. You felt so flustered standing there, waiting for the water to warm up, wondering just how he had this much control over you without even having to say anything.

He circled around to face you, a firm, searching look in his eyes as he pinched your shirt between his fingers. Did you want this? And you knew he wasn’t going to continue without an answer.

Slyly, taking satisfaction in the way his ears twitched, you raised your arms. Coyly, teasingly daring him to take it off for you — not about to give up winding him up. A furious blush coated his cheeks, a sign you were winning, but he didn’t slow; more and more of your clothes being delicately removed while he never once looked away.

By the time he had you in your underwear, the distinction between your own heated blush and the heat of the shower’s steam was blurred completely.

“It’s a bit unfair that you’ve lost no clothes yet, don’t you think?” You asked, biting your lip with fervour as you pinched at the well fitting shirt. Your hand slid underneath the tight hem and your breath caught at the feeling of fairly toned muscles, not super defined — but just enough for you to very much enjoy them.

The shirt was lost quickly, as were the rest of his clothes and you were left with your mouth ajar at the fact that the sweet, quiet, Steb was hiding all that underneath his clothes. You had half the mind to be jealous of the fabric.

His hands tugged at your underwear, impatiently, as he cornered you against the shower door. They were promptly discarded.

The warm water poured over your skin, the steam making Steb look softer through it. 

You pressed a kiss to the skin of his shoulder, tasting the salty sheen coating it as your tongue darted across the spot. You couldn’t help but pepper him with more kisses, trailing them up his neck where you found the tender spot that made Steb inhale sharply when you nipped it.

His hand twined with the wet hair of your nape, pulling you back enough for him to see you properly. 

Water poured in streams over your curves, adding a shine to your skin. Your hair stuck slick to your skin too, darker as it got saturated. Tantalising, you stood there, bare and flushed and putting his dirty fantasies to shame. 

Accurate to them however, you were as forward as ever, jumping at the chance to slick your hands with soap (a rather gentle kind, you’d discovered) and run your hands over wherever you could reach. The effect was instant, Steb’s breathing became brilliantly laboured, almost panting through the thick steam as you got so close to him but didn’t press your body to his quite yet.

Your hands deftly swiped past his nipples, making his chest jump. Steb let out a small whine that you clocked instantly, one you decided you absolutely had to hear again; you swiped at them again, fondling them, pinching at them, drawing the most explicit noises from Steb’s throat.

You were as handsy as he hoped you’d be, having your hands on him already felt lecherously satisfying. Fuck, and this was just the start, if he was guessing. 

He hissed as you closed your lips around one of his sensitive nipples, his hands finding your hips when you ran your teeth over it, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. His grip was strong and you couldn’t find yourself worrying about bruises, in all honesty you were hoping he’d leave some — all the flirting and innuendos and sweet taunting, there was no way this would end in anything other than a carnal display of need.

Steb’s hands wandered over your body, the satisfaction of seeing you bare had his head swimming already but the feel of your damp skin under his fingers had him nearly shaking. Softly, he palmed your tit, exploring and devoted. The thin string of his composure was fraying by the second.

You smiled against his skin and wanting more you kissed your way up to his lips again, taking a selfish lick up the column of his throat just to taste him. You were met with a crushing kiss, overwhelming desire fueling the searing dance of your lips.

The flow of water over your heads, chaotic and streaming over where your lips connected made the kiss feel more like a mess. Biting at Steb’s lips harder than you meant to, he groaned, and you brushed his tongue with yours the second the opportunity presented itself.

Hot and warm, you felt it all over. Your hands traced the outside of the gills resting by his jawline with purpose as you pressed yourself as close as you could — almost annoyed by the slickness of the water that almost felt in the way.

He tilted his head, pushing deeper, breathlessly allowing himself to grope you. You whined into his mouth at his touch that ghosted lower and lower, sweeping over your cunt. 

Steb pulled away, leaving you gasping, and gave you that familiar look — the tilt of his head asking for permission. He wanted to fuck you so bad but he was still so respectful, it sent a pang of need straight to your core, making it ache deliciously. The thought of finally being able to see his face twisted in pleasure, of watching himself lose his grip on his self control because of you made your head spin.

“Fuck, Steb, quit being such a gentleman.” You murmured through the water, grasping at his hand and guiding it to where you wanted him most. More than just the gentle touch before, you could feel the pads of his fingers trace your cunt, slick with your wetness. 

In turn your hand was guided to his shoulder as he backed you against the cold tile wall, his head buried in your wet hair. You gasped loudly at the frigid sensation on your back, arching up into his fingers.

Peppering your temple with kisses, his fingers circled your clit before lewdly dipping into your aching cunt. Steb panted into your ear, feeling the way your wet body writhed against him and the way your cunt greedily sucked his fingers in. He curled them and you moaned, your mouth opening so invitingly, and he captured your lips in another consuming kiss.

The feeling of his fingers, thicker than your own but still devastatingly lithe, playing with your pussy and the heel of his palm grinding against your clit was going to ruin you. Lustful and obscene, you’d never felt so good and so dirty at once. Taking his tongue in your mouth, moaning around it as the kiss grew sloppy, water seeping in everywhere — you were lost to the sensation.

Feeling your orgasm start to pool in your gut, your hands struggled for purchase on Steb’s lean, slippery shoulders. They brushed against the fins that ran down his spine, ones you liked to trace with your eyes when he wasn’t paying attention, and he shivered at the feeling. 

Your hips rutted into his hand desperately, chasing your peak, lewd sounds falling from your mouth and into his ear. He pulled away and you whined at the loss of his hand between your thighs, the frills on his cheekbones fluttering at your blissed-out, needy look.

Without breaking eye contact, Steb clasped his hand over yours that still rested on his shoulders. He peeled one off, but keeping it pressed to his skin he trailed it down his toned abdomen. Your gaze flitted between his wet, dishevelled look — the hair plastered to his face; the flush on his cheeks; the subtle twitching of his ears and frills — and the burning path he carved downwards with your hand.

He couldn’t look away, you noticed, his lidded eyes glued to your hand; pliant in his and inching further and further towards his cock. Taking initiative through the fuzzy feeling that was stuffed in your head, you reached the rest of the way yourself, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock.

Steb groaned at the sight, his head slumping forward as his eyes fluttered closed. You bit your lip, admiring him for a moment — keeping your hand still just to tease him.

“Open your eyes, Steb. Look at me.” You purred, the way he did so immediately with blushing cheeks and ears that were shyly pinned halfway back plucked a chord of satisfaction in your gut. “You gonna show me how you like it?”

A strangled noise fell from his throat, his eyes screwing shut for a moment before looking at where his hand still held yours. 

You eyed the way his stomach tense when he finally moved your hands, stroking his cock torturously slow. Your thumb darted out from under his to swipe at his tip, a motion that made him jerk into your hands and quietly whimper. You could almost see the hearts in his eyes through his fluttering lashes, cute.

“You wanna keep it like this? Or do you want to fuck me?” You asked boldly, pushing yourself off the wall to get in his face. A flash of surprise flitted across his features, before a horny, conflicted look took its place. 

Your free hand stroked at his cheek, just under his still-fluttering frills, “your call, put me where you want me.”

Steb’s hips jerked again at your salacious tone. Despite all the sensation, he clung to restraint; you wanted to break that more than anything. You wanted to see that darker, animal look swim in his eyes when he looked at you, unabashedly focused on getting what he wanted. You almost moaned at the thought of caring, quiet Steb fucking into you like an animal in heat.

You searched for his other hand, holding the curve of your back, and pulled it up towards your neck. You tilted your head to get millimetres closer. “Take what you want from me. Please. I mean it.”

You wanted him so bad, something so obvious since you started to really get to know each other. But the extent of your desire left him breathless. You wanted to give him anything he wanted, without restraint. He wanted to see you fall apart.

A shadow of unimpeded desire lidded his eyes. Steb pushed you firmly against the wall, you gasped at the temperature as well as the new drive that shone in his eyes — just like you’d seen when he leaned against the doorframe earlier. 

Unlike what you were expecting, he sank to his knees; hands tracing every curve of your body with immense care as he went down. Kisses, nips, and bites were left in his wake, stretching from your collarbone to your breast bone and all the way down to your pelvis. The last nip at your skin was left just above your cunt.

Fuck, he looked beautiful with the shower stream running down his lean, arched back, with a look in his eyes — hazy, unfocused — that screamed how lost in you he was, knees spread open. You whimpered at the feeling of his face pressed up against the outside of your pussy.

Steb’s warm hand encircled your ankle, the warmth travelling straight to your sopping cunt, and pushed your legs apart. 

Without restraint, he tilted his head and pressed a sloppy kiss to your clit; taking it in his mouth and suckling. His tongue, that felt more pointed than you’d expected, lapped at it with fervour. Steb’s eyes, closed in pleasure and focus, fluttered open to take in the way your body arched from the wall. A small smirk graced his lips from his place between your thighs, frills fluttering against the soft flesh surrounding them.

His hands slid enticingly up your legs, coming to hold your hips, pulling you closer to his mouth. Rising slightly on his knees for a better angle, he made out sloppily with your cunt, oversensitive cocktip brushing the shower floor for a second in a way that made him moan in earnest against you.

You squealed at the feeling, writhing between Steb’s hands, pushing him closer to your weeping entrance. His tongue plunged in, nose grinding into your clit in a way that made you gasp and twist your hands into his hair. 

His tongue was much longer than you’d expected, thinner and more pointed at the tip and thicker at the base. And by god was it flexible, fucking into you with ardour and rubbing against your gummy walls fast and hard. The lewd squelch of Steb eating you out like a starved man echoed against the shower walls, along with your moans.

Circling your hips with his forearms, hands coming to rest close to his face, he pulled you onto him impossibly further. You were seeing stars at this point, shower water trickling off of your stomach, curved with how hard you arched trying to chase the feeling. Your hips rocked against his face as much as they were allowed.

You looked bewitching from Steb’s place between your thighs, face flicking through expressions he’d only dreamed of seeing; your quick tongue reduced to babbling; your body writhing from his touch alone.

You caught the staring, burning eyes full of thirst almost swallowed by your flesh. The reality of the situation crashed into you at full force, the guy you’d been pining after was getting off from being trapped between your legs. Steb’s eyes, full of want, drank you in like you were the only person in the world.

His fingers snaked under your thigh, pressing against your cunt before joining his tongue. You moaned loudly at the feeling of his slick tongue and deft fingers stretching you out for a moment before his tongue slipped out. Your disappointed whine was cut short by the feeling of his tongue lapping at your clit.

Curling into the right spot, your head fell back in a long groan. You panted into the thick, wet air as the knot in your stomach grew tighter and warmer, wanton moans pouring from your lips more and more often; growing pitch as you hurtled closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Fuck- Steb-” You whimpered breathily, before being cut off by your own draw out mewl as his tongue flicked your clit hard, fingers stretching you deliciously. 

With a choked noise, you came hard; your fingers dug into his hair and you slumped forward. His ministrations didn’t let up however, fucking you through it as you trembled above him, thighs clamping around his jaw. Steb’s name tumbled from your lips like a breathless prayer.

He pulled away from your cunt, covered in you and panting. You watched his shoulders rise and fall violently with it, and you sorely hoped that the sensuous, pussy-drunk look on his face was from pleasure and not mild asphyxiation. Whatever it was, it was hot.

You slid down the wall, your shaking legs stretching out either side of him, fixated on his eyes. You spent a minute more resting, before a sultry grin stretched across your lips. You pulled your legs back in, contorting yourself into crawling a mere couple of inches closer to his face.

You kissed him under the pouring water, softly, but messily — tasting yourself on his tongue. You felt him swallow. You pulled back.

Your hand traced down his chest, sensually caressing his nipple. You traced the movement with your eyes for long enough for him to breathlessly mumble ‘fuck’ before your eyes lit up and stared him straight in the eye again. You could get him to say that again, maybe. 

“How about your turn, handsome?”

His hand on the back of your head pulled you into a fervent kiss, taking you with him as he leaned back as far as the cold, glass shower panel would let him. You giggled against Steb’s lips, looking him in the eyes as your hands travelled south.

A/N: that mf swallowed some shower water there's literally no way he didn't. he probably didn't even notice. luv yas 🫶

banner cr: @/cafekitsune

[humiliatingsluts2]

Exposing my Toy

The first hint this wasn’t going to be a normal evening was the outfit I picked for you. A very short skirt and low cut top, with no underwear. I had you try it on well before the guests arrived, and seeing you wearing such a tiny outfit had my cock hardening in my jeans. Without even needing asked, you dropped to your knees and undid my belt. You smiled up at me and asked if I liked the outfit, as my cock bounced against your cheek.

Instead of answering I gripped your hair and you obediently sucked my cock. I was gentle so as to not ruin your makeup, but you let yourself gag and moan as my thick cock filled your throat. I came quickly and you swallowed. We both had to be ready for our guests arriving, there was no time to waste on a long blowjob. You hopped to your feet and kissed my cheek, and I slapped your ass as you went to finish getting ready..

We had been correct to hurry, as only twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door. As instructed, you went to the door and opened it: two of my school buddies. I knew they’d be perving on your body, and I also knew you’d feel shy and exposed. You brought them to the kitchen and I greeted them too, and told them to take a seat. I nodded at you and you fetched them both beers. One of them joked, “You’ve got her well trained!” and I could see your cheeks burning.

Three more friend arrived, all my friends and all men. They sprawled across the sofas swigging their beers and laughing and I joined them while you fetched another round of beers. This time, when you entered the room all of us looked around, six men all focusing their gaze on your cleavage, bare legs and the hint of ass we could all see. You felt vulnerable, and I beckoned you over and patted my lap. You looked at me in doubt, but I nodded and you hopped onto my lap. My friends and I continued chatting and bantering around you.

I knew that if you opened your legs even a little, three of the guys on the opposite sofa would see your bare pussy. I rubbed my hand up and down your thigh, not opening your legs, but clearly groping you. I held you by your hips and lifted you higher onto my lap. You squirmed and I could tell you were feeling so horny already.

“More beers?” I asked the guys, and the response was unanimous. I nudged you off my lap and you began collecting empties. One of my friends had left his empty bottle sitting on the floor. I knew that you knew what would be expected of you. You bent at your waist, keeping your legs straight. My buddy could practically see all the way down your top, meanwhile the rest of the room got an even better show. The skirt barely covered your ass normally, and the moment you bent over it became obvious you had nothing underneath. Your cunt wasn’t quite on show, but everything else wasThere was a brief silence interrupted only by a involuntary “Fuck…”

You straightened as if nothing had happened and carried the empty bottles back to the kitchen. Before my friends could ask me what you were doing, or perhaps congratulate me on how good your ass looked, you reappeared with six fresh beers. I could swear your top was pulled down even lower. You handed them out and climbed back on my lap. This time I wasn’t nearly as careful, and let my hand sit firmly on your inner thigh, with your other leg pinned by my leg. With the slightest movement, I could lever your legs open and closed.

I wasn’t quite ready to completely expose you, yet. Instead I wrapped my arm around your torso and pulled you back slightly, tilting your tits into my view. I took a swig of my beer and placed the bottle between them, as if using you like furniture was totally natural. I felt you shift and squirm again, but you pressed your arms together to keep my beer secure. When I reached for another drink, I made sure to blatantly grope your tits, almost exposing them, before I took the bottle.

I knew you could feel my cock hardening under your ass, and you were humping gently against my crotch. I let you hump me and get more and more horny. By now I was nearly constantly groping your tits, and I’m sure you’d briefly flashed everyone by now. Your breathing was heavier as you tried to maintain composure. I started spreading your leg. I felt you tense against me, but your resistance was temporary. My hand slid even further up your leg, so close to your cunt that I thought each hump might rub against my hand.

If the guys opposite had spotted your exposed pussy, they weren’t making it obvious. Perhaps they were just too distracted by your tits nearly falling out your top as I took my beer. I kept you like that, on the brink of complete exposure, for a few minutes. Then I moved those last few inches, and pushed two fingers into your wet needy pussy. You moaned, loudly and the conversation froze. The guys opposite glanced down and saw your pussy grinding against my hand. I couldn’t tell if you were even aware, or just too lost in neediness to remember you had an audience.

I kept fingering you and you only got louder and more desperate. I pulled your tits out of your top too, and started twisting your nipples. You whined but humped my fingers even harder. You turned to me, “Please. Please may I cum?” I smiled,

“I think we’ll take a vote. All my friends are enjoying your show.”

You almost seemed to realise the situation then, almost felt ashamed at being fingered in front of an audience.

“Yes, Daddy. I understand.”

I turned to my friends, “She is a very good little slut. She just couldn’t help fucking herself on my fingers. Should she cum?”

The response was a very enthusiastic yes from everyone, and I hooked my fingers inside you and fingered you much faster. You bucked against my hand and I held your legs firmly open with mine to keep you completely exposed. You were moaning and panting louder until I knew you were on the edge. I growled in your ear, “What do you say to our guests?” and you break over the edge, moaning and babbling,

“Thank you, fuck thank you for letting me cum, thank you. Fuck please. Thank you.” You cum hard for a long time and your legs shook. I feel the gush of wetness and I knew your cunt would be leaking all over my jeans. Even as you come down from your orgasms, you shake and hump, enjoying feeling my fingers still deep inside you.

I let you recover and gently pet your body, and now you do start to feel slightly ashamed. Not ashamed enough to close your legs, but you bury your face in my neck and breathe. You try to at least slightly drown out the fact that all my friends are discussing how hot you were, how they like your tits, how they want to see you cum again or fuck you themselves. I can tell from your throbbing cunt that you hope they do.

—

Follow me for new writing every Friday.

[angelicgirlmj]

a gilmores girl daily routine:

hi angels! with september drawing to a close i cant stop rewatching gilmore girls - such a cozy show i wish i lived in stars hollow! here is a little daily routine inspired by Rory Gilmore and the aesthetics of Gilmore girls.

AM ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

wake up at 6:30am.

pick out outfit and book for day.

have a shower, using vanilla or autumnal scented body washes etc.

dress and pack bag for school/academia.

have a cosy breakfast such as oatmeal, french toast or pancakes alongside a coffee (or a chai tea if you dont love caffeine!).

clean teeth, do skincare and light makeup.

style hair - add a cute headband or pin the sides like Rory often does.

journal, light a candle and read over notes or any relevant material for your classes.

go to school/whatever academic institute you attend.

PM ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

go to a cute coffee shop and study with a friend!

head home.

change, put on a cute jumper.

finish off any work or homework left.

make dinner, such as a comforting soup with sourdough toast or a salmon, broccoli and rice bowl.

have a warm, comforting bath, try using a bath bomb or cute autumn themed product such as a body scrub.

have a cup of tea and read a book for a little bit.

watch a favourite show under some blankets and get cozy!

brush teeth and do skincare before bed.

do five minutes of journalling.

do some light stretching and yoga before bed!

head to bed and get a nice early night.

ADDITIONAL ACTIVITIES ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

bake a cute autumnal treat, such as pumpkin loaf or apple pie muffins.

take cute photos.

visit a library or book shop.

go on a walk round a local park or green space!

paint your nails.

try writing an article or blog post - like you would if you were a journalist.

have a film night with a family member or friend!

organise your book shelf/book collection.

update your planner and get ready for the week ahead!

plan an outfit for tomorrow.

thank you for reading angels! i hope you have a cozy and cute gilmore girls autumn. remember this list is only ‘inspired’, feel free to adapt it and make it your own and comment and tell me what you would add! love, m.

[azrielslittleslut]

Requesting Azriel x easily anxious and agitated Valkyrie, who constantly zones out? Fluff/smut/angst, you pick(just don’t break my marshmallow heart at the end😭)

"Little Valkyrie"

Azriel x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, Az is kind of an asshole, reader is a lil bit of an asshole back, language

Word Count: 2.9k

a/n: i would do anything to see az in a cowboy hat. i don't ride horses, but i'd ride him like one.

Enjoy!

The sound of the sword dropping onto the training room floor brought you back to the present. The clang of the steel hitting the ground echoed for a few moments, your breath coming in ragged pants as you tried to collect yourself.

Azriel groaned, his eyes rolling slightly as he looked at the dropped weapon. "That's the second time this has happened today," he said, dropping his own sword to his side. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

You flinched, your cheeks heating as the weight of your own failure crashed down on you. "I don't know," you whispered, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. "I didn't sleep well last night. I guess I'm just tired."

"Tired" was definitely not the word to use, but it was the only excuse you could come up with. As a Valkyrie, you should be able to push through exhaustion, and Azriel knew that. You should be able to hold your sword high, no matter how sore or tired you are.

But you had never been like the other Valkyries. You were slower and slightly weaker, always full of anxiety about fighting or training. You could hold your own, of course, but it required more effort on your part. You had spent hours and hours in this very training ring, going through countless exercises to become a part of their ranks.

Now that you thought about it, you honestly didn't know why you had been so insistent on becoming one. You were happier when your nose was buried in a book than when you had a dagger in your hand. You were a dreamer. Your mind was always filled with imaginary scenarios that had absolutely nothing to do with fighting.

You would never admit how often you zoned out to anyone, especially not Azriel. Just earlier, he had been walking you through different sword techniques, his deep voice full of careful instruction as he showed you.

The only problem was, you didn't remember any of it. You had been too busy imagining what Azriel would look like wearing a silly hat, like a cowboy hat. It had taken all of your self-control to keep from giggling at the thought of such a broody male wearing something so ridiculous.

Yes, the zoning out was a massive problem, but you couldn't help it. It was how you dealt with your anxiety since childhood, and unfortunately for you and everyone else around, that little habit had continued on into adulthood.

Plus, it was the only way to ease your frazzled nerves around him. You weren't scared of him, like so many others, but your nervousness had other roots.

He was so beautiful, all tall, dark, and handsome. Your skin tingled every time he touched you to adjust your hold on a weapon. You felt your breath catch in your throat when he looked at you with those beautiful eyes.

You were so pathetic, pining after a male like Azriel, who was so unemotionally available it bordered on hilarious.

"Hello?" Azriel's annoyed voice brought you out of your thoughts. Damn it. You had done it again. "If you aren't going to pay attention to me, I'm not going to waste any more of my time. I have other things to do."

You watched in silence as Azriel walked over to the weapon storage area, and you felt anger boil inside of your veins as you watched him meticulously shed his weapons.

That was the downside to all of this- when you zone out, and others notice, you always get so agitated that you lose control of the words that come out of your mouth.

"What? You can't miss another appointment with those shadows of yours to do nothing but brood?" you snapped, your hands on your hips as you pinned him to the spot with your eyes.

Azriel turned on his heels, hazel eyes blazing with fury. "I would rather spend my time brooding than with a wanna-be Valkyrie who can't even focus."

The harshness of his words hung in the air, cutting through your heart like a knife. You had always been fond of Azriel, and recently you had even started to develop a small crush on him. But just like that, your hopes of anything more than a forced friendship with him were deflated like a popped balloon.

"I'm- I'm sorry," you stammered, unable to fight the tears that now spilled down your cheeks. "I think I should go now. I'll find someone else to train me."

You didn't bother looking back at him as you rushed from the training ring, your tears falling freely now. As you ran into the House, you ignored the faint feeling of a tickle on your skin, as if one of his shadows was begging you to stay.

---

"Why are you wound so tight, brother?" Cassian teased, his sword clashing against Azriel's with easy precision. Az felt the clang of metal on metal ring through his forearms, a welcome pain to distract him from his frazzled thoughts.

"Nothing," Azriel grumbled as he readjusted his fighting stance. He and Cassian had been going at it for hours now, the sounds of their labored breathing mixing with the clashing of their swords.

Azriel could deny it all he wanted, but there was a good reason as to why he was so on edge. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the look of pain on your face after he had insulted you. The tears that had poured from your beautiful eyes had cut through him, as if someone had been stabbing him repeatedly with Truth-Teller.

He had wanted to run after you, to do or say whatever was required to get you to smile at him again. He would beg on his knees to hear your laughter once more, but now he had gone off and ruined it.

Azriel was scum.

Cassian barely side-stepped Azriel's next strike, his wings snapping behind him as the blade came dangerously close to cutting them. "Mother's tits, Az," Cassian hissed. "If you wanted to play dirty, all you had to do was tell me."

Cassian was already crouching down, a position that he only used on the battlefield when he was preparing to face off with an enemy. But Azriel held up his hands, dropping the sword onto the ground. He tried not to think of how he had chastised you for doing the same thing.

"I yield," he murmured, his shadows wrapping around his wings and shoulders, preparing to winnow him away if he so wished it.

Cass stood, his eyes blinking rapidly. "You? Yielding?" He chuckled lowly. He looked over to the Illyrian mountains in the distance, his gaze scanning along the frozen peaks. "Yep. Illyria appears to still be frozen, so the world isn't ending. What the fuck is up with you?"

Azriel glowered at his brother. "Nothing, Cassian. Just tired." He really didn't want to explain this whole situation, and especially not to someone as nosy as Cassian.

"Yeah. Nothing. Okay," Cassian murmured, padding over to the water station at the corner of the ring.

Azriel silently followed, his mind wandering to you. He prayed you would forgive him for his stupidity. You were still new to training, even though you had proven time and time again that you belonged here. You fought as good as anyone else, sometimes even rivaling Nesta in your hand-to-hand combat skills.

I would rather spend my time brooding than with a wanna-be Valkyrie who can't even focus.

The memory of his words caused him to flinch, which didn't go unnoticed by Cassian. He slammed down his water glass, the liquid sloshing onto the ground. "Alright," he snapped. "Cut the shit. Something is going on, and you aren't leaving this training ring until you tell me what it is."

Azriel's shadows were already swarming him, their soft whispers filling his ears as the started to take him away-

"And if you think those shadows can hide you from me, think again." Cassian's gaze softened for a moment, his hand coming to rest on Az's shoulder. "Tell me, brother. What's troubling you?"

Az blew out a breath, knowing that Cass wouldn't let it rest. "It's the new Valkyrie," he murmured, his arms folding around himself. "I was training her earlier, and I said some things I shouldn't have."

That was the understatement of the year, but Azriel kept the details of what he said to himself.

Cassian raised his brows as he leaned against the wall. "Ah. I see," he said, a grin forming on his face. "The one who can't seem to keep her wits about her when she's around you?"

Az blinked. "What do you mean?" Of course, he had noticed your tendency to zone out quite literally in the middle of training. He had watched in silent horror as that glazed-over look had formed in your eyes while Gwyn was holding a dagger next to your throat, the blade so close that it had nicked your skin.

He couldn't believe how someone could lack so much self-awareness, especially someone as kind and beautiful as you.

Wait. Kind and beautiful? Where had those thoughts come from? Azriel pondered that for a moment, slowly coming to the realization that perhaps his anger at your lack of focus had nothing to do with him wasting his time training someone who didn't care.

Maybe, just maybe, it was more than that. But he was too afraid to confront that right now.

Cassian clapped him on the shoulder. "For a spymaster, you seem to lack basic observation skills," he said with a chuckle. "I'll be sure to let Rhys know that you're losing your touch."

If Azriel had hackles, they would be raised right now.

"Hey," Cassian murmured, his voice soft. "I didn't mean to piss you off. You should apologize to her if what you said was that bad. She seems like a nice female, so I'm sure that she can find it in her heart to forgive you."

Azriel crossed his arms. He had never been good with apologies, so the thought of this was his own form of torture.

"Besides," Cassian continued on, draining the rest of his water, "maybe she'll just zone out and not pay attention to anything you say."

---

The stars were bright in the night sky, providing the only source of illumination in the otherwise dark training ring.

You fought to keep your breathing steady as you pummeled the punching back, your knuckles barking in protest as you put all of your strength behind each strike.

One, two. One, two. One, two.

You spoke through the movements in your mind like a mantra, your thoughts more focused than usual. You didn't have a problem with zoning out when you were alone, so you had decided that it was best to train like this.

Did the others think you were just a wanna-be Valkyrie? Did they think that you didn't care about being here?

Your punches became harder, more and more force behind them as your anger bubbled to the surface, your vision going red with rage-

"You're bending your wrist." The deep male voice echoed through the training ring, soft in nature but still carrying that condescending tone that had been haunting your waking thoughts for the last two days.

You did nothing to adjust yourself, proceeding to hit the bag the same way you had been all night. You chose to ignore the pain that had started to form in your wrist, just like you were going to ignore the male who had ruined your peaceful rage-punching.

Azriel sighed. "If you keep doing that, you're going to break something." His footsteps grew closer until they were right behind you. "Will you let me show you?"

You turned to face him then, not bothering to hide the rage plastered onto your features. "What? Finally decided that you wanted to help the poor, wanna-be Valkyrie? I am honored to be graced with the presence of such a powerful, siphoned-out warrior."

Azriel flinched, his wings twitching, his shadows swirling. "I did not mean to cause any offense," he whispered. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

You huffed. "Like you give a fuck. It would probably make you very happy to see me get my ass handed to me. You probably don't even want me here, so I'll just leave."

You turned, but Azriel's scarred hand stopped you. This close, you could smell his lovely scent of night-chilled mist and cedar, and you fought the urge to close your eyes and lean into it. He was so warm and strong, and you cursed the desire coursing through your veins.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft. "For what I said at training. I don't think you're a wanna-be Valkyrie. You are a Valkyrie. You've proven that a hundred times over."

You stared at him, mouth wide open. You had never heard him say so many words together, much less say more than one sentence at a time. In fact, the only time he really ever spoke to you was when he was offering words of instruction.

"I don't expect you to forgive me," Azriel continued on, his head dropping slightly. "Not right now, at least. I just wanted you to know that I didn't mean anything I said."

"Why did you say them, then?" you asked through gritted teeth. "Have you never heard of the saying 'If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all'?"

Despite everything, a grin formed on his full lips. "I've never heard of that before," he admitted, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks, still bright against his tan skin. "Perhaps I should put it into practice."

You rolled your eyes. "You still didn't answer my question."

"I said it because-" he broke off, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "I said it because I was afraid. Afraid of how often you zone out in the middle of training, of how you completely lose focus when your life is on the line." He took a step forward, so close now that you could feel his warmth radiating toward you.

"Do you know the horrible things that could happen to you if you zone out like that in battle?" His voice was low as he spoke, so low that you wondered if you could suddenly hear his shadows now. "Do you understand what that would do to me? Knowing that I have trained you as well as I could, but you didn't make it because you started daydreaming?"

Your heart stuttered inside your chest as he spoke, your eyes scanning across his face. You hadn't realized how obvious your zoning out had been, always hoping that nobody had noticed.

You had been so fucking wrong.

"Why do you do it?" he demanded, though his voice was still heartbreakingly soft. There was a sheen in his eyes as he spoke, and your chest tightened at the blatant display of emotions on his usual guarded face. "Why can't you focus, little Valkyrie?"

Little Valkyrie. The nicknamed warmed your heart, sending heat through your chilled bones.

You didn't want to admit the truth to him, but how could you deny it when he was standing before you, pleading with you?

"I zone out because of you," you said quietly, praying to the Mother that, for once, his Fae hearing would fail.

Azriel blinked, a choked laugh escaping him. "Because of me?" he asked, placing his scarred hands on his chest. "How do I make you nervous? Do I make you afraid? Fuck, I never meant to scare you-"

"Azriel." Your voice cut through his babbling like a knife. "You don't scare me. Quite the opposite actually." You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, looking to the ground as you spoke. "I get nervous around you because I like you. I get nervous because one of the strongest Illyrian warriors is training me, and I feel so small in comparison. It doesn't help that you're kind and funny when you're not insulting me."

Azriel stared at you in disbelief, his hazel eyes full of something like surprise and... awe. "You like me?" he asked, a boyish smile gracing his face. It looked so ridiculous on him, this dark warrior, but you decided you would do whatever you could to keep seeing it.

"I do," you responded with a nod. "I have for a while."

Azriel furrowed his brows, his shadows reaching out to play with a strand of your hair. "And you thought zoning out in the middle of our training would make me like you back?"

"It got your attention, didn't it?" you said.

"It worked," he responded, that stupid smile still on his face.

You let out a breath, relief washing through you. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I know it can have devastating consequences, and I would never zone out in the middle of a real battle."

Azriel chuckled. "Unless I'm there, apparently."

There was the arrogant asshole that you knew and loved.

You slapped playfully on the shoulder. "Train with me tonight," you said, nodding your head over to the swords hanging on the wall. "Let me show you how badly I can kick your ass when I don't zone out."

You knew you would never be able to accomplish such a feat, especially not with him. But you liked this side of him. The one that you could tease and taunt.

Az grabbed a sword and threw it to you. You caught it with one hand, raising it up as he grabbed a matching one. He stood before you, his wings tucked in, his legs braced apart.

He raised a finger, curling it slightly in the air. "Let's see what you've got, little Valkyrie."

general tag list: @quiet-loser @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria

@anarchiii @inkedinshadows @book-obsessed124

@scorpioriesling @olive-main @scarsandallaz

[t4rt4gl14]

SOFTIES GONE HARD!

❤︎ warnings: fem!reader. meandom!chara. spanking. bondage. manhandling. praise. degradation. size kink. cockwarming. overstimulation. edging. cum stuffing. breeding(kink). claiming. dacryphilia. marking.

❤︎ FEATURING: ZHONGLI. KAZUHA. THOMA. KAVEH.

❤︎ authors note: this one is about genshin men who’d usually fuck you softly but they’ve decided to fulfil their own desires today, using your body of course. ASKS ARE NOW OPEN. 18+ MNDI.

ZHONGLI.

calm, collected, ravishing zhongli, who always fucks you nice n slow, taking his time, softly trailing his fingers over your body. it was until a certain young man working in the market decides to flirt with you each time you go out, despite reassuring zhongli that you weren’t interested he was adamant on…reminding you who you belong to.

pinning your wrists above your head using one hand, the other circling your clit, fucking you into the couch as his tongue roams in your mouth, he usually speaks words of praise and reminds you how he adores you but this time? nothing but his promise to claim you. “you whore, you’re liking this arent you? a-ah fuck— i’m going to make sure your body remembers who it belongs to”. he hisses when your walls clamp down on him like a vice; halting right against your cervix and spilling all of his cum inside you. you both moan in unison and he doesn’t move until he’s let out of every drop- only then, does he slightly pull out and fuck up into you again.

KAZUHA.

now you can’t tell me this wouldn’t be hot, kazuha who’s given up on being so nice to you when you’ve kept teasing him on board the crux, he drags you into a storage room and whispers right into your ear whilst grinding his erection against your clothed pussy. “i am sick and tired of your endless teasing, i’ve spoilt you, haven’t i? seems like i’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

your knees can barely hold you up at this point, with yet another rough thrust into your wet cunt, a soft thwop thwop thwop heard from the storage room. he covers your mouth with his hand, uttering pure filth into your ears, “can’t even keep your voice down…do you want the others to hear how well i fuck you?”, you shake your head, whining and mewling against his soft palm, eyes rolling back from the pleasure. his thrusts pick up the pace, signalling his own orgasm. “mine…minemineminemine..”, he moans, biting down on your neck to keep himself quiet as his cum shoots into you, he softly rides out his orgasm, more of his seed leaking from the tip with each hump…”let’s go again, shall we?”

THOMA.

thoma is still surprisingly nice even when he is jealous, but boy he gets freakkyyyyy; kissing you softly as he blindfolds you, laying you on your tummy as he grinds his long thick cock against your ass, smearing his pre cum against your skin, “m’so hard for you, wanna fuck you..wanna show you much i love you”. and god does he prove his adoration for you.

you’ve already orgasmed yet he keeps fucking into that tight hole of yours, shamelessly bending down to your ear and moaning out, your juices making a sloppy mess and he can already begin to see the ring of cream forming at his base. when you cry and mewl, when you keep telling him your sensitive, he just keeps mindlessly rutting into you, whimpering soft apologies, “m-m’sorry…m’sorry— i-i know you’re s-sensitive you just feel— anghh~ s-so good, good girl..”, he gets lost in the pleasure, cumming into you again and again, using you for his own satisfaction, his brain registers that he, himself, is also extremely sensitive but his hips don’t know when to stop, his heart yearns to breed you, to make sure by the time you’re done; his cum leaks out of your cute cunt….thomaaaa <333

KAVEH.

ohh kaveh, sweet sweet kaveh who’s just lost his temper with you, he’s just gotten this overwhelming urge to just fuck you so hard, i mean it’s only natural right? he just wants to have you dumb on his cock, that’s normal…right?? but alas who are you to deny him? what was meant to be a fluffy cuddle session turned into full blown sex…

you shift slightly, pulling the blankets off you; it was getting way too hot, especially with how you’ve been sitting on kavehs cock for the past 40 minutes, ass cheeks red from his spanking. i mean honestly why was he being so rude? each time you asked him if you could move, “zip it will you? i know you like this, you’ve been twitching around me the whole time”, he teases with another spank, thrusting up just slightly; small tuft of hair tickling your clit. then after 20 minutes he sighs, “ride me like a good slut eh?”, and with shaky arms you grip his shoulders as support and start bouncing on his cock, ass slapping against his thighs— his dick reaches so deep when you ride him like this; you moan out as your back arches, calling out his name again and again..kaveh!..kaveh!~ he won’t deny how much this turns him on but eventually your pace doesn’t satisfy him, so he grabs you by the hips and flips you over onto your back, absolutely railing you, a pace that you’ve never experienced; you didn’t even know he had this side to him! and honestly…it was really hot.

MEANDOM THOMA AND KAVEH ARTGGGGGJDHHDJDJSJSB

[fear-is-truth]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 . . . hc .ᐟ ⭑ 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐰

⟢ tags — fem!reader﹒headcanons﹒domestic fluff﹒nsfw﹒mdni﹒smut﹒kinky rp﹒blasphemy

a/n: requested by… i’m pretty sure i remember who sent the req but not confident enough to @

you’ve mastered the art of meal prepping for him—chicken breasts, egg whites, protein shakes etc. he’ll sneak up to you from behind while you’re cooking, kissing the top of your head as a thank you.

his “controversial” youtube channel, where he films fitness and cycling classes, is something you secretly love to watch him record. you’ll often peek from the doorway as he’s filming, watching as he passionately leads the class, shirtless and full of energy, talking about strength and spirituality.

the two of you have a growing collection of houseplants that charlie swears he’s responsible for watering (even though you know you do most of it). he’s also been talking about getting a pet dog—and he gets excited just thinking about it.

you have a ritual of watching true crime documentaries in bed. he’d throw in some commentary during the episodes, pointing out details others would miss and making sarcastic remarks about the criminals’ poor decisions. you can tell he’s fascinated by the psychology of it all, even though some of his comments make you playfully swat his arm for being a bit too dark.

he’s dedicated to his morning jogs and always tries to convince you to join him, but on most days, you’re still in bed when he gets back, all sweaty and smug. he’ll kiss you awake like sleeping beauty and tell you that he’s already done your workout for you.

he’s super buff. strong enough to lift you effortlessly, and loves showing off. charlie would sweep you off your feet at random moments—like when you’re about to leave the house, or after a long day when he insists on carrying you to bed. he always jokes about how he’ll never get tired of it, no matter how many times you roll your eyes at his over-the-top gestures.

nsfw — mdni

after groundbreaking sex, you’ll be snuggled in bed, and suddenly, he’ll ask, “so, if you had to commit the perfect crime, how would you do it?” charlie loves watching you try to come up with a serious answer, and then he’ll one-up you with some morbid trivia or a clever solution.

one day he got his hands on a nun’s habit, and casually suggests you try it on. the whole thing was more than a bit blasphemous, considering his position, but you decided to humour him. as soon as you put it on, he was all over you.

confessing (in great detail) to him in the confessional booth about how you touched yourself when he’s not there.

christening your shared apartment by fucking you in every room, and on every available surface.

when you’ve ran out of surfaces, it extended to the church.

he has fucked you in the confessional booth at least once.

charlie has crazy stamina—partly because he works out and partly because he’s “blessed by god”.

you have a stash of homemade porn videos that you’ve filmed together.

talked you into wearing vibrating panties to mass. sitting in the front row for him to admire the tiny expressions in your face.

using holy anointing oil to give you full-body massages.

rehearsing his sermons while you cockwarm him.

charlie likes to leave the bathroom door slightly ajar when he’s taking a shower, knowing you’ll peek in. more than often, you join him, the sound of your clothes dropping to the floor muted by the running water. steam fogs up the bathroom as his hands find their way to your hips, pulling you under the water.

he’d scoop you up in his arms, pinning you securely between him and the wall. you’d cling onto charlie like a koala, wrapping your legs around his waist while kissing him, fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed you back with equal fervour, him slipping his tongue past your lips and exploring your mouth lazily.

when he senses your impatience—the telltale tightening of your grip on his hair or the small whine that passed between your connected lips, he’d waste no time lining himself to your entrance and filling you with one deep thrust.

MLIST  fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[konigsblog]

tw: rape/noncon, kidnapping

note: merry christmas :3 i have a few christmas themed posts for you guys! hope you enjoy <3 photo credit: @ave661

kidnapper könig's christmas surprise 🎁.

you've been locked away down in the basement for months on end, without sunlight and only the smell of dust keeping you company. of course, he visits you. calming you when you scream for him to get away. he's always by your side, compensating for his horrors.

you've lost track of time, you don't remember the last time you saw sunlight, let alone a calendar to tell you the date. occasionally you'd ask him what day it was, but könig had a theme, where he'd lie about the day to fuck with your head and confuse you with time, telling you that it was saturday, when he told you yesterday that it was wednesday. you're so easily worked up; so incredibly sensitive, that you can't help but cry when something goes wrong or confuses you. a shell of the person you used to be.

and because he's so mean to you, you're surprised when you're awoken to the sound of könig coming downstairs, with a heavy, filled sack over his shoulder. you're confused, eyes blurry before they focus, whimpering from exhaustion.

“merry christmas, my dear.” he mutters quietly, your eyes fill with tears, realising how long you've truly been here... he hands you a gift from the sack, encouraging you to open it. slowly, you tug at the ribbon, his eyes never leaving your frame. you remove the bow, before tearing open the wrapping paper and opening the small box. inside, there was a pair of handcuffs.

confused, you cocked your head to the side, looking at könig with curious eyes. “this is useful for your other gifts, little mouse. open this one.” he hands you another box, similar size to the last one. you slowly open it again. pulling the box and opening it to find a ball gag this time. you whimper, feeling könig's hands grab your wrists, pinning them above your head.

“be good for me, liebling...” he huffs out, grunting while you struggle. using the handcuffs, he binds your wrists together, chuckling when he has you restrained on the ground. you use your feet, useless as the large man grips your ankles, cursing at you in muffled german.

könig puts the ball gag around your head, muffling your noises. he flipped you around and onto your stomach, pulling your hips into the air so that you were forced into a downwards doggy position. using the ribbons from your presents, he tied your ankles together tightly into a knot, a chilling smile plastered on his face at the sight.

another gift was taken from the large sack könig had came into the basement with. he opened it, smiling at you the entire time. he watched as your eyes glistened and widened when he pulled out a sex toy — specifically a large dildo. you, of course, squealed and wriggled, earning yourself a painful spank to your tight ass.

he placed himself behind you and pulled your light blue panties down, chuckling and taunting you the entire time. könig just wanted to show his devotion as your kidnapper, how he'd fuck you in the future, and how your body no longer belonged to you but instead him. he toyed with the dildo; dragging it up your slit, collecting your slick juicies on the toy. you cried out, sobs muffled with the ball gag, leaving you shaking like a leaf.

“oh, meine liebling... won’t you understand?” he sighs out, still rubbing the tip of the dildo against your cunt. your eyes filled with tears, beginning to spill down your cheeks. “i just want to train this pretty hole to take my cock, prinzessin.” he begins to push inside, filling your tight pussy with the large toy. you're so tight — unused and inexperienced that you can't help but cry our shakily, whimpering at the sensation pulling at your core.

each thrust he makes with the toy is agony for your unprepared cunt, leaving you swollen and sore as he continues with his assault. pained cries echo throughout the basement, along with the sounds of könig's cruel, taunting laughter. you begin to feel your body reacting against you, your pussy becoming wetter and wetter the more he pushes inside, and your nipples perking. he rubs your clit, small circles leaving you an utter mess, and your orgasm approaching and waiting to happen.

you're stunned, muscles tensing and core tightening as your orgasm comes crashing down onto you. only the feeling of your kidnapper's bulge keeping you from giving in to his needs. you tighten around the rubber material, panting heavy, your panties still down your thighs and collecting the droplets of cum running down your pretty, supple thighs. your chest rises and falls as könig begins to unzip his jeans, one hand on your ass, spreading apart your ass cheeks.

fighting against him was useless, whatever he wanted, he got. you were evidence of that. you could squirm all you liked, but regardless of how many times you pleaded and begged for mercy, he'd have his way with you. you felt something hot, something bulbous run over your ass. he humped you sloppily; fucking his cock between your thighs, making a slick mess of your pussy before he would be ruining you and morphing your hole to fit his size.

“stop shaking’... the more you struggle, the more it'll hurt.” the feeling of könig's tip running between your folds was leaving your jaw slack with anticipation and terror, knowing that a man of his size would surely have a cock matching his statue...

he began pushing inside your slit, filling you up inch by inch. broken sobs filled the air, leaving your throat in stuttered moans as he began working his hips against your ass. he rocked his broad hips back and forth, dragging himself in and out to get you slick enough to take him fash and rough. “don’t worry-- you’ll enjoy it, mäusi.” he mocked, teasing you.

he spat a fat glob of saliva between your ass, watching as it ran down to your filled cunt, acting as lube for him to work his way inside. könig was practically splitting you apart on his big, veiny cock; destroying you for his own, selfish needs. a large hand came down to smack your ass, grunting at the pulsing sensation of your gummy walls around the girth of his large dick.

he began quickening his pace, not wasting a minute of his time inside you. könig's hand gripped your bound, tied wrists, tugging at them as he pumped his hot cock into you. the sound of laboured breathing was prominent and audible, groaning hoarsely and gutturally as you continue to clutch and latch onto his thick dick. “go on, little mouse. cry, cry for me to stop.” könig's sick and twisted enjoyment of your pain was depraved; it was filthy for him to get off to your fear like this.

his hand came around to pull the ball gag away from your lips, allowing your sobs to be heard. the impact of his tip against your cervix was agonizing, and he only got harder the faster he drove his hips into your ass. your cunny drooled around him instinctively, betraying you. god, you sure as hell didn't want any of this, this wasn't how your life was supposed to turn out — bruised and broken on the ground of a man's basement — but your body reacted regardless of what you thought; was pleasured by könig's punishments.

you cried loudly, a pained whine flowing from your puffy lips the longer his abuse went on. you were vulnerable when you were tied up; unable to fight him off of you, forced to surrender to his needs and greedy demands. your pussy became wetter, with euphoria dripping from your pretty pussy, allowing könig to fuck into you faster with ease.

pearly, white beads of thick cum began to ooze from könig's tip inside you. falling out into your cunny with each thrust, his potent release getting fucked deeper into your warm, wet walls. forced to listen to the sounds of könig's pleasure as he inflicted pain onto you for his own benefit. “such a bad girl. crying so loudly, that must be you’re desperate for more, ja? with the way your pretty pussy is squeezing my dick like this, i’m sure that's all you need...”

you weeped, sniffling at tears rolled down your tearstained, raw cheeks, burning and painful against your skin. the wind was knocked from your lungs as he pounded into you, silencing you as he fucked his potent arousal deeper into you, cumming with a low grunt when you tightened and throbbed around him one last time, before losing yourself and cumming all down his shaft. you buried your face into the dirty, concrete ground, ashamed and embarrassed to admit that you came all over him.

your dignity and decency was stripped of you, and the only thing you could do was gaze over at the glistening dildo, attempting to cover your pussy from him.

[obliviouscxnt]

Control Azriel x Reader

a/n: I'm so lost, i don't know what I'm doing. Still learning how to use tumblr but in the meantime, welcome to the first fic i feel like posting.

synopsis: feyre's growing curiosity about you sparks some personal questions.

Warnings: mentioned SA, fluff, hints of sexual activities

pt.2 | pt.3

One of the first friends Feyre made in the Night Court was you. You reminded her of the twin wraiths in a way. Never saying much, if anything at all. Maybe that was one of the reasons she liked you so much. 

You didn’t need to talk to enjoy each other’s presence. Feyre had as much fun sitting in silence with you as she did on a night out with Mor. 

But as time passed, as Feyre became a constant in the Night Court, she had grown curious. She wanted to know more about you like she did the others. 

So she started asking you questions, and to her surprise, you would answer her. Your answers weren’t clipped, or vague. You never sounded annoyed with her, you were completely open and honest with her. 

“How long have you known everyone?” Feyre had asked while you gently played with her hair, her scalp tingling at your touch. 

You thought about it for a moment. “Over two hundred years now.” 

She tilts her head, so apart from her you were the newest member of the inner circle. “How did you meet?” She asks, shivering as the tingles travel down her spine.

You start braiding a few small strands from the front of her face as you speak. “My kind are far different from other Fae.” Feyre practically perks up at the words. She knew you weren’t high fae but she never bothered saying anything about it, she barely even noticed it most of the time not nearly enough to warrant a discussion. “They hail from no court, and bow to no lord, not even the Mother is with their thoughts.”

Feyre tried to imagine what that would be like, how they would act, what traditions they’d carry. She thought of your features, the ones that stood out among other high fae. Your ears didn’t point, your nails were like claws, and your teeth bore long sharp canines on both the top and bottom of your mouth, but the features that stood out the most were the ones you kept hidden. 

Feyre saw them once, your wings. The first time she met you. Like they were just there for a formal introduction. They were big, beautiful, and intricate. They looked like moth wings, and fluttered like them too. Opening and closing slowly when you were lax.

Immediately when Feyre saw them, she felt like painting again, she could barely keep her eyes off them, barely keep herself from reaching out a hand to touch them. Maybe that was the reason for their absence in the next visit; all that remained of the glorious appendages was precise ink that lined the whole of your back, a tattoo of folded wings. 

From the way they folded, they almost formed a natural cape. She wondered how far your tattoo ran, the extravagant fabrics of the dresses you wore only showed so much. 

She pictured a whole colony of people that looked like you and immediately felt like painting again.

“It’s why nobody can do anything about their backward ways, they listen to nobody but themselves. Believe no one but themselves.” All preconceived thoughts of your people turn sour with your words. 

“The things they’ve done, they still do…” You release a shaky breath as you finish the small braids and set them aside.

Feyre turns to look at you when your delicate hands part with her hair. She finds you sorting through a box of hair ornaments, but your eyes are clouded. Not even the most glorious of diamonds could shine through that fog. “You don’t have to...“ 

You blink out of your daze and wave her off as you pull out a few gem-encrusted pins and show them to her. Waiting for her to give you a nod of approval before pulling out a stunning bejeweled silver comb and repeating the same process. Your collection was truly marvelous. 

“When I was saved, it was my first Flowering Night.” You spoke the words with barely concealed bitterness. “A night where all mature unpaired females are sent into the woods for any participating males to hunt down and take as they please.” 

You tuck back the small braids with the sparkling pins. Feyre listened as you continued, she wanted to say something but what would she say?

“No one could run very far from our community, the woods of the Middle hold no mercy. It was either hide and hope you make it till dawn without being spotted by a male. Or die to the other horrid creatures that live in those woods.” 

Feyre’s heart ached for you, her sorrow a tangible thing able to be smelt in the air. And you squeezed her shoulder, you comforted her. Her sorrow only increased. You never deserved any of it.

“I chose the latter.” You carefully place the comb into her hair, finding it in yourself to smile at the final product. You still fiddle with a few strands until you feel pleased. “A close encounter with death led to the discovery of my gift,” 

Dreamwalker, Rhys had called you.  An ability so rare even Helion’s exquisite library had very little information on it. 

Feyre loosely understood that you could enter another person's dream. Could manipulate it as you wish, to serenity or to a blood-curdling nightmare. But what made you so powerful, what made you such a valuable asset to the Night Court was your ability to bring dreams to life. All manner of dreams. 

However, your ability was sparsely used for court matters, and only necessary people knew of it. You were their trump card. Something nobody would see coming. 

Feyre would never forget the time you had a nightmare, sending half the court in preparation for battle. She’d also never forget the way Azriel had fought off the nightmare incarnate to get to you. How he charged forward without an ounce of hesitation. While Rhys had stood protectively in front of Feyre, and Cassian’s siphons flared from beside her, providing a shield around them.

Feyre had realized then that Azriel would go to hell and back for you. 

Feyre turns to face you, to look you in your enchanting eyes now that you are finished playing with her hair. “I was barely a woman, I didn’t know the first thing about defending myself. I didn’t know what this gift was.” She watched you raise a hand, small stars forming and trailing your fingers, blinking and shimmering as you played with them. “What good is a gift this powerful if you don’t know what to do with it? It’s as good as a broken blade.” 

Feyre’s breath leaves her body when you pull down the shoulder of your elegant emerald gown, revealing a long jagged scar running diagonally across your chest. The skin puffed up from how deep the gash was. “I would’ve died if it weren’t for Azriel.” 

The high fae’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly. 

“He heard me screaming. And he came for me.” You pull the shoulder back up and smile. Actually, smile. Feyre had never known someone like you, someone able to flip such a horrid memory around. Someone so able to pick out the good amongst the bad. “It wasn’t until a century later that I finally accepted his invitation to the Night Court and met everyone else.”

Feyre found herself grabbing your hand and squeezing. So grateful you had accepted his invitation. 

You squeeze back. 

“You’re so strong.” Feyre says, furrowing her brows when you laugh like she had told a joke. 

“It wasn’t strength that led me here, Feyre.” You tell her. Once again she wanted to paint you, but she felt like she wouldn’t be able to do you justice. “It was fate.”

A knock sounds at the door. 

“Come in.” Feyre calls and you both look to the opening door. Two incredibly attractive Illyrian men stand at the doorway. 

Rhys smiles at the sight of you two, eyes raking over the hairstyle you’d given Feyre. “You look lovely, Feyre darling.” Her face heats as you smile in triumph. 

“Say goodnight.” Comes Azriel’s voice in that tone he only used on you. 

You obey his command without a second thought, giving Feyre a light hug and giving Rhys a small bow before scurrying toward Azriel’s waiting arm. 

You fall into step with him as his hand lands on your lower back. But before the two of you could disappear you tug on his shirt, prompting him to stop only long enough for you to turn back toward Feyre and say a final goodnight. “Dream well Feyre!” Then he continued leading you away to your shared chambers. 

The mated pair watch you two travel away. Rhys with a look of content for you and his brother. Feyre with a new curiosity. 

She couldn’t help but be curious about the dynamic you and Azriel had. The way that dynamic bled into the interactions you had with your friends. How you always asked for permission before doing something and always jumped up whenever anyone asked you to do something. Rhys seemed to catch on to that curiosity. 

He decided to save you the embarrassment of Feyre asking you herself. He had enough of an understanding of you to know when something would make you uncomfortable, no matter how much you said otherwise. 

You’d always answer any questions asked of you openly and honestly, whether you wanted to or not. It was one of the reasons many were at first against your visits with Feyre, himself included. The newly turned fae was far too oblivious to your situation to recognize when she was taking advantage of your obedience. But you assured Rhysand repeatedly that Feyre never bothered you with her questions. That you enjoyed her presence just as much as she, hopefully, enjoyed yours. 

Much to everyone’s delight, Feyre regarded you with gentleness and awe from the very start. It was the effect you had on people. It was the reason Azriel didn’t put up a fight about leaving your visits unsupervised.

“[name] was raised by cruel people, they taught her that in a relationship the male's word is law. Her people think a female is expected to give up any and all control to her male. It’s one of the few things she never was able to condition herself out of, Azriel helps her by providing that control she needs.” 

Feyre thinks about that, face heating at the images it created. She wondered what that would be like, to surrender herself completely. “So if he told her to jump off the nearest bridge…?” 

“She’d do it, with zero hesitation.” 

Rhys smirks, knowing glint in his eyes as his gaze runs over the blush that coated her face. 

“But he’d never ask something like that of her. He knows her inside out, knows when something is too much or not enough.” He steps closer to her, delighting in the way her breathing picks up. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think your interest in this topic was more than innocent curiosity.” 

“Well, do you?” Feyre asks, making his eyes narrow. “Know any better?” 

Rhys’s gaze becomes dark. “Nope.” 

****

“Did you enjoy your time with Feyre?” You sigh at his voice, the comfort it brings you. You find yourself leaning into him, and he allows it. 

“It was nice.” You say truly. It felt like it was easier to breathe now that Feyre had more of an understanding. “She asked about how we met.” 

The hand on your back pulls you closer to him as if he were remembering that day. Remembering what you looked like as that hideous creature held you down, slicing into you. The way you flinched away from him after he’d slayed the creature. The sheer dress that you wore, If it could even be called that. He could still picture everything so vividly. 

How you eventually submitted to him, and how that made him sick. How he carried you out of the Middle and into the lands of the Night Court, never taking you into the cities. How for the next century after that he would visit you at the little private cabin only he and his brothers knew about, how he took care of you, and how he grew to love you. How you grew to love him in return.

He shoves those thoughts into the back of his mind as he opens the door to your shared chambers, walking you inside before shutting the door behind you. 

His hands move to your shoulders while he guides you to sit on the edge of the large bed, big enough to fit at least three winged beings. Hands brushing down your body as he kneels before you, settling on your ankle. He brings your foot up and rests it on his thigh before slowly unraveling the straps of your heel. Once finished he continued with the right heel, his touch nothing but confident from years and years of practice. 

A hand pats your thigh, letting you know he’s finished. Your eyes trail him as he heads toward the bathroom, you’d be happy to just look at him for the rest of your immortal life. 

You help Azriel, though he had no problem doing it for you, by taking off your jewelry one by one, setting each extravagant piece on the nightstand. By the time you're done Azriel’s waiting for you next to a full bath.

“Come.” He beckons from beside the large clawfoot tub. Hand outstretched and waiting for you. 

You saunter toward him, sighing as you let your brain just rest. Let him do everything for you. 

His hands are strong, and gentle, and secure all in one as they guide you out of your gown, his clothes following not long after. You sigh as he brings you into the tub. Positioning you so you sat between his legs, back to his front. 

Your eyelids slowly fall shut, coaxed by his soothing touch. Feeling nothing but content when he pushed your head back to lay on his shoulder, a gentle kiss pressed against your temple.

You were soon in a state of barely there, just teetering on the side of sleep but awake enough to move when he told you to. 

“Lean forward.”

His hands rub up and down your back, cleaning and massaging the skin there. You shudder in pleasure and he hums soothingly. Like cooing at a pet. You straighten up a bit when he taps the marked skin a few times, moving forward just enough for your wings to slowly peel away from your back. What was once ink on your skin, now real moving wings. 

“Spread.” And you do so, wings unfolding and stretching out completely. 

You shiver as his hands brush against them, making them twitch both away and toward him. As if they couldn’t decide whether the feeling it brought you was too much or not enough.

As always Azriel handled them with utmost care, humming when small noises of pleasure escaped you. When he was finished he tapped your shoulder to let you know, but you were too tired to summon the magic needed to conceal them.

Though, not tired enough to remember it was his turn. 

Slowly with lethargic movements, you turn to face him. Wings folding up again, forming a natural cape on your back. “Can I-“ You begin but catch yourself before you can finish. His narrowed eyes crinkled into a smile. Happy he no longer had to remind you of such a simple fact. 

Don’t ask to touch what is yours.

So instead you reach for the soap in his hands and begin to wash him. Taking satisfaction in the way his wound-up muscles, tense from hours of work, relaxed under your touch. The way his hands rested on your hips, squeezing every now and then appreciatively. The hums that left his mouth, no longer with the intent to soothe you but to let you know how pleased you made him. 

Your touches became increasingly distracted, sleep slowly leaving your system as your mind filled with nothing but him. 

He smirks, a mix of amusement and attraction. Allowing his own touches to become less innocent. His hands move to wrap around your wrists, dragging your hands down, down, and down his body. Soap long ago discarded. 

“Touch me.” He commands. 

And nothing could keep you from satisfying him. 

next→

[cammys-imagines24]

°•Teasing Mizu•°

Mizu will have the patience of a saint most days. An ingrained sense of being calm and collected made from her years of training.

Often, you won't even notice if your teasing has any effect on the composed Samurai.

But, for all her patience, it just makes you want to try harder.

And, when she snaps, which she inevitably will, get ready to be punished.

See, when you agreed to go on her path of revenge with her you didn't realize how little opportunity you'd get to be intimate.

You two are either roughing it in the woods, in which case she'll tell you to get some sleep while she stays up to guard your campsite.

Or, you two are simply too exhausted after miles and miles of travel to even consider anything other than falling into each others arms and getting some much needed shut eye.

Plus, because it's imperative that her gender remain hidden, it's not as though you can pull her into a discreet alley in a town and have your way with her. What if someone sees?

And, joining her when she does bathe either in the sea or any natural hot springs you two may come across? Forget about it. That's when you take watch and make sure no one sees her body as she cleans up.

Which makes the few times you two actually get a room at an inn all the more tantalizing to you.

What better way to utilize this rare chance than to make your beloved suffer?

You'll start off slowly in the morning, going down to get breakfast for her and when you return to your shared room you'll let your kimono fall off your shoulders.

The sunlight pooling into your exposed collarbones, your coy approach not fooling Mizu one bit.

You'll show a bit of leg, too, as you offer to bind her chest for her.

Just so your hands can linger on the lithe muscles of her torso. Your fingers tracing her biceps and the hard ridges of her abdomen.

All the while whispering sweet nothings in her ear, your breath fanning against the nape of her neck as you bring up memories of past intimate moments between you two, by means of conversation. And to rile her up.

"Remember when you used that toy on me you got from Madame Kaji's brothel? That was fun. Remember that one time I was stitching you up? You were so pent up from the fight that you used your sash to keep my hands tied while you had your way with me? Blood stains be damned."

Mizu knows what you're up to immediately, can read the mischief in your eyes like the back of her hand. Why else would you bring those steamy memories up?

As the day goes on and your touches continue, your soft body pressing against hers more and more and the way you keep on wetting your plump lips with your spit...

When walking around town, your hand so casually snakes around her waist, her navy cloak an easy cover with others none the wiser as to where exactly your hands are traveling.

Your fingers slip under her clothes for just a little skin on skin contact, you leaning against her as you walk, the squish of your chest pressed against her arm...

Mizu is too damn stubborn to submit, despite the dampness starting to form in her white undercloth.

The townsfolk who pass you two by scurry away from the daggers she's glaring at everyone from behind her orange glasses, all assuming she was furious but no, she was just horny and tired of your shit.

You'd all but given up on your teasing, as day unfurls into evening but when you two make it back to your room at the inn get ready for a whiplash.

As soon as the door is latched shut, Mizu will waste no time in shoving you up against it.

Her strength, raw and powerful, coiled like a snake about to strike.

You'll have the nerve to smirk victoriously until she slaps it clean off with her mouth as she snags your bottom lip between her teeth.

Her swordsman hands, made calloused from forging, quick to lift you up in her arms, your kimono rising to your upper thighs before she pins you down to the bed.

"You fucking brat. Is this what you wanted?" She'll rasp out, pushing her knee in between your legs to spread them nicely for her.

There'll be no mercy for your poor body. Not when her blue eyes are staring down at you with ravenous hunger, every inch of your flesh a meal she can't wait to devour.

Your previous smug triumph is wiped clean fast, she has you a begging mess beneath her in no time at all.

The Samurai likes you that way, especially after you've been such a tease. Whimpering, messy and dripping, cheeks red and practically tearing up...

So overstimulated you can't even form coherent sentences, only whining out "Mizu, Mizu, Mizu" as you plead for her to let you come.

She loves her name in your desperate mouth and just shy of mean, she'll force you to say it dozens of times before she let's you have your release.

Come morning though, Mizu will be all soft and kiss every lovebite she left on your skin, from your neck to your inner thighs.

She'll massage your sore flesh and say how much she loves you, her voice a gentle rasp against your skin.

In truth she doesn't mind your bratty moments since she can then fuck the brat out of you.

And, of course you'll never learn your lesson. Not when the reward is Mizu.