#various states of dress and/or undress

[octofee]

2023

[9ndreus]

Shadwell: In league with the forces of darkness! You monster! Seducing men to do your evil deeds!

Aziraphale: Oh I think you've got the wrong shop.

Aziraphale: I only have them do Good deeds, actually.

[ashthesalamipiece]

“Red Marks and Red Faces”

The locker room buzzed with post-mission chatter, half-dressed pro-heroes in various states of undress switching from their hero gear to their casual uniforms. Katsuki Bakugou, still sweaty and irritable from the high-intensity patrol, yanked his tank top over his head and tossed it into his locker.

That’s when it happened.

“Yo, Bakugou,” Kirishima’s voice piped up behind him. “What the hell happened to your back?”

The room seemed to fall into a hushed pause, the question hanging in the air like a live wire. Katsuki stiffened, jaw tightening as he slowly turned to glare over his shoulder.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

But Kirishima was already pointing. “Dude. Your back. It looks like you wrestled a damn wildcat.”

Bakugou blinked, confused for a split second — until the faint burn of the scratches reminded him exactly what Kirishima was talking about. Red marks. Thin, angry lines trailing across his shoulder blades and down his spine. Not deep enough to scar — but definitely obvious. And definitely not from any villain fight.

Kaminari, half in his shirt, leaned over to look. “Whoa. Are those… scratch marks?” He grinned. “Wait, wait — no villain did that. That looks personal.”

Bakugou growled, jerking his shirt from the locker and yanking it on.

“They’re from the last fight,” he muttered.

But it was too late. Sero was laughing now. “Nah, man. That’s not battle damage. That’s some bedroom battle damage.”

Kirishima’s eyes went wide in realization. “Wait. You’ve got a girlfriend, don’t you?”

Bakugou didn’t answer. His ears were already glowing red.

Kaminari gasped like he was on a soap opera. “Was it the girl you brought to the agency event? The one with the cute smile? Damn, Bakugou, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Sero smirked. “Scratch marks like that? She must’ve had a good time.”

“Shut the hell up!” Bakugou snapped, finally losing it, his voice echoing through the locker room. “Mind your damn business!”

But even as he barked at them, his mind flickered back to the night before — your nails raking down his back, breathy moans, the way you whispered his name like a secret only meant for the dark. He hadn’t even felt the scratches in the moment.

He cursed under his breath.

Sero leaned in with a teasing nudge. “Tell her next time to be gentle, man.”

Katsuki shoved him off. “You’re lucky I don’t blow your damn face off.”

Kirishima chuckled and gave him a fist bump on the way out. “No shame, bro. Just maybe bring some aloe next time.”

Left fuming and red-eared, Bakugou slammed his locker shut, muttering under his breath. Still, as he left the room, a tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Because the truth was — he didn’t mind the scratches.

Not one damn bit.

---

[ofbatsandballads]

pretty little birds

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: suggestive content, reader works at the Iceberg Lounge as a server/dancer/informant for Oz, slight objectification from Oz, reader described as having long hair but no other physical descriptions, slight implication of potential SA (nothing happens, just concern over it)

a/n: been thinking of Jason with a girl who works at the Iceberg Lounge ever since I watched The Batman and saw Selina’s gorgeous self working there. something about her and Bruce’s dynamic was very alluring and I realized how much better it would work with Jason so this was born. might make this a series, might not; who knows? not me! also if you want a nice visual aid for the club, I fully based it off the Gotham Knights version of the lounge.

divider credit: strangergraphics

Jason wasn’t a fan of the Iceberg Lounge. He’d been there plenty of times for missions, for reconnaissance, to beat the shit out of Oswald—it didn’t mean he liked it there. The club was ostentatious, loud and vulgar like everything that went on within it. He always scoffed when he saw it during patrol. An actual iceberg exterior; how corny could Cobblepot get?

He did have to admit that it was nicer inside. The marble floors, balconies, and columns lended an elegance to the place that it didn’t deserve. The neon blues and pinks of the lighting served to disorient, to intoxicate alongside the drinks that were served across the bar and the drugs that were passed behind it. The massive penguin ice sculpture in the center was tacky though. Jason could think of a million better design choices than that.

All this to say that he wasn’t thrilled to be sent to the club per Bruce’s orders of seeing if Oz was still as legit as he claimed. He wasn’t. They all knew it but B needed proof. Jason’s sure by proof Bruce meant that he wanted him to go undercover, but one of the advantages of being Red Hood is that he can go where the other Bats can’t. That distinction is how he finds himself stalking the club from his vantage point in the shadows.

It’s busy tonight. The main floor is crowded with people. Bodies push and pull to the rhythm of the music that blares from the speakers. As tightly crammed as the floor is, the servers still manage to weave through with a practiced grace. They’re all in various states of undress; short skirts, crop tops, some in straight up underwear. Jason recognizes the servers for what Cobblepot intends them to be: a distraction. They’re all young and beautiful—pretty girls and boys that are meant to draw your eye so you don’t see the money and the drugs that pass between their hands.

Jason zeroes in on the two working the floor for any indication of something illegal. Oswald’s been smarter since his last stint in Blackgate. He lets the filth of the city do their deals in his club while he himself is never caught up in it. The argument of “well I didn’t do it” usually wouldn’t hold up legally, but this is Gotham. His eyes track the man first. He’s weaving in and out, laughing with what must be the regulars. He’s charming them, plying them with more and more alcohol to stay longer, to spend more money. He’s not doing anything more than that, though, to Jason’s utmost disappointment. He turns his attention to the girl instead.

The difference between the two of you is so obvious it’s almost amusing. While the guy weaved fluidly through the throng of people like something unseen, the crowd itself seems to part for you. Recognition, some degree of respect, power—that’s what you’ve got over the drunken group of people. He immediately knows that his best bet will be with you. Everything about you echoes the pull you must have in the club. The way you walk, how you smile at the regulars, the drifting of your hands across shoulders and backs and jawlines. It’s even clear in the way you’re dressed. You look like something out of a cabaret show. Pink silk lingerie lined with black lace flowers, black fringe beads that form the idea of a skirt rather than an actual one, and those same beads hanging in alluring arcs across your arms, neck, and chest. You’re dressed up like Penguin’s favorite dream.

You’re also not doing anything illegal. Sure, he’s watched you take money from people, but all you bring back are drinks. He watches for over half an hour, eyes always trailing back to you. Nothing. It’s remarkable how much absolutely nothing he’s seen. His patience is wearing thin. It’s one in the morning and there are better things he could be doing, people he could be helping. But he can’t leave without something for Bruce. He tries to ignore the bile that rises in his throat when he thinks of why he still cares about disappointing him. His eyebrow twitches and he decides suddenly and definitively: fuck it.

So he kicks in Penguin’s office doors.

“Ah, Red Hood. If it ain’t Gotham’s least favorite vigilante,” Oswald mutters past the cigar in his mouth. “Shut the doors behind you, would ya?”

Jason kicks them shut. No one needs to see the bloody mess that Oswald’s going to be in about fifteen minutes.

“Ah ah ah. Before you get any ideas, I would advise you to consider how bad it would be for you to be caught assaulting a reformed citizen of this great city,” Oswald gloats, stubby finger pointing at the camera in the corner.

Fuck. Now Jason has to talk. He hates talking to Cobblepot. It gets you approximately nowhere fast.

“Reformed? We both know you’re full of shit, Oz,” Red Hood taunts.

“I’m on the straight and narrow. Scout’s honor,” Penguin laughs, coughing through the harsh inhale he took of his cigar.

Nowhere. Fast.

“You’re bringing in too much money for that to be true. Your parties aren’t that good, Cobblepot.”

“Eh, you haven’t seen my toys. Most of ‘em come for the pretty little things I keep around.”

“So you’re pimping them out? You see that I can work with,” Hood retorts.

It would make sense, Oz getting his servers into sex work. It’s not the worst thing he could do if they were all willing. And if they weren’t? Well, that gives Jason a nice excuse to finally put a bullet through The Penguin.

“You don’t listen too well, do you? I’m a changed man. People can look at my dolls, but they can’t touch. Everyone loves eye candy,” Oswald says.

The doors open just as Jason considers pulling a gun on Oswald, cameras recording him or not.

“And there’s my favorite. What do ya need, doll?”

Jason watches you saunter in. You move with an almost feline gracefulness. His eyes clock the sway of your hips and the way you toss your hair over your shoulder. Then he watches the way Cobblepot’s pupils dilate as his eyes lock on you. You plant your hands on the desk, bend over as you smile saccharine at the old man sitting behind it. Oh, you’re good. Very good.

“Nothing much. Just that DA wanting his usual,” you say.

Oswald’s eyes rake lecherously over your body. He looks at you like he wants to put you in one of the glass cases that decorate his office. It makes Jason’s stomach turn. Then he pulls a key out from a locked drawer and drops it into your open palm. Now that piques his interest.

“Thanks, Oz,” you say sweetly.

As you straighten up and spin around to leave, Penguin grabs your wrist and yanks you back. He leaves one kiss on the inside of your wrist and that pretty facade cracks. It’s only for a second, so quick that Oswald doesn’t see it. Jason does. Disgust. Pure disgust flashes across your face before it’s replaced by an alluring smile. Your eyes spark with something Jason can’t quite read.

“Mind if I get some too, Ozzie? You know how much I like it,” you ask as you play with the beads that dangle on your chest.

“Sure, doll. Take whatever you want,” Oswald acquiesces.

Your face lights up and you look almost victorious. Then you spin around and head towards the doors. To this point you haven’t acknowledged him, the known vigilante, at all. But just before you leave, you pause right next to him. Jason tries not to flinch as your hand runs up his arm.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your night here. Next time, feel free to ask for anything you want. Wouldn’t want Oz’s guests to get bored,” you purr.

Your eyes lock with the white lenses of his domino mask and Jason feels the air leave his lungs. You’d seen him. You knew he was there the whole fucking time. And you hadn’t told anyone. If you had, Cobblepot would’ve sent security in guns blazing.

“Have a good night, honey,” you tell him as you waltz out the door.

“See, Hood? Eye candy,” Oz hacks.

Jason follows you. What else was he supposed to do? Oswald gave him nothing. But you? You gave him what felt suspiciously like a lead. Ask for anything you want, you’d said. What else could you think he wanted but proof of Oswald’s lingering corruption? So he follows you. He’s careful this time. Quiet, precise steps that give no indication he’s near. It’s times like these he’s grateful for all the stealth training Bruce made him do as a kid.

He trails behind as you head downstairs. You weave through the maze of corridors until you come to a mahogany door, elaborately carved with floral emblems. It’s got an old brass lock on it that you slot the key into. Jason waits one beat, two, three—then goes through the door where you disappeared.

He finds you inside, crouching in front of an open safe. A rainbow of jewels glitter within. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds—there had to be enough jewelry in there to cover the cost of a couple of Bruce’s tricked out sports cars. You pull a more modest sapphire necklace from the safe and place it into one of the grab bags that guests can take home at the end of the night. So that’s what the DA wanted. You grab a far more ostentatious diamond bracelet and slip it into your bra.

“Think it’s a good idea to steal from your boss?”

You jump. Jason doesn’t want to admit how satisfied he is by that. He was a little worried that he’d lost his touch. You twirl around, eyes locked on the vigilante leaning against the closed door.

“Hmm…when I’ve got him wrapped around my finger? Why not?” you smirk.

You’re brave. He’ll give you that.

“Must really be putting on a show for him if you’re not worried,” he presses.

Your smile drops and your eye twitches in annoyance. He’s hit a nerve. Good.

“A show. That’s all it is. If he’s stupid enough to think it’ll be more than that, that’s his problem,” you bite, tone dripping venom instead of honey.

“Not scared he’ll realize the trick? Or what he’ll do when he does?” Red Hood asks as he fiddles with a knife he keeps in his belt.

He asks with sincerity. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. You could end up dead. Or worse. Jason’s no stranger to people taking what they want by force, and Oz clearly wants you.

“Oswald’s a coward,” you reply harshly. “He only fucks with people weaker than him. So no, I’m not scared of toying with him. He won’t do a goddamn thing to me.”

Jason cocks his head, sizing you up. A pretty girl in lingerie working in a club thinks she’s stronger than a crime lord. Well, you’re probably not wrong.

“You’re not weak?” he asks mockingly.

But it’s still fun to test your resolve. To your credit and Jason’s surprise, you just grin. A breathy laugh falls from your red lips and Jason can’t help the way his eyes flicker down to look at the curve of them.

“I got this without so much as a fight, didn’t I?” you gloat, grabbing the diamond bracelet and swinging it around your middle finger.

“He let you.”

“Precisely. What exactly are you missing here? He let me. Because he’s a fool. And to let me take this bracelet specifically? Well, he’s just about the village idiot,” you laugh.

Jason sees the bait. His stubbornness almost makes him want to not ask just to spite you. But it’s just too intriguing.

“What’s so special about that bracelet?”

You smile wryly. Jason’s reflexes are the only reason he catches the bracelet as you toss it to him from across the room.

“Oh, I think you’re smart enough to figure that one out yourself, baby,” you purr. “Now get the fuck out.”

Jason does as he’s told. He returns to the cave with no intel beyond a locked room with a safe full of jewels and a diamond bracelet. Imagine his shock when Bruce analyzes the serial markings of the bracelet and finds that it was part of a collection that got robbed from a boutique in the Diamond District. It had been months and they hadn’t found a single piece of jewelry from the robbery. There were no leads on who did it or how. And now one of the most expensive pieces is sitting on the Batcomputer. Jason can guess where the rest are.

“Who gave you this?” Bruce asks skeptically.

Always doubt with the old man.

“A friend. Maybe,” Jason ponders.

Bruce rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Jason grins at how exhausted all his kids make him. It’s a point of pride among them: who can stress out B the most?

“You should figure that out,” Bruce scolds.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

Jason’s suddenly got a very vested interest in the Iceberg Lounge, and he’s going to satiate that curiosity if it kills him again.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Be Mine [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: A morning meeting has an unexpected twist. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smutty. Avenger!Loki x Female Reader. Questionable flirting techniques. (w/c 2.8k)

The muscle at the side of Loki’s jaw flexed. He swallowed; an achingly glacial bob of his Adam’s apple making you want to claw your eyes out.

For some inexplicable reason he had opted to wear full leathers to today’s briefing.

It was seven nineteen in the AM. Thor was sporting a muscle vest boasting not one but three stains of varying complexity and a pair of shorts which left little to the imagination. Scott was wearing his dressing gown.

The rest of the team hung off chairs and flopped on the table in various states of undress. Steve stood at the head of the room as usual; prim and fresh in a crisp button-down and perfectly creased chinos.

“So what we’re seeing here,” Steve said, turning to the group from the Powerpoint, “is an up-tick in biological experiments-”

His eyes narrowed while they roamed over the doodling, distracted and hungover band sprawled around the table. “Lang.” he snapped. “Close your legs; there are ladies present.’

Scott shuffled up his seat, drawing the dressing gown down over his knees while mumbling apologies. A low rumble of mirth circled the room, but Loki’s gaze never left the Captain’s.

The curve of his dark lashes swept upward, features set in performative rapture. Loki's facial expression hadn’t changed as the scene unfolded, but for a miniscule twitch of his lip. Usually the two of you would exchange a few eye rolls; a few knowing smiles during a particularly turgid monologue about shoe storage post-mission...but not today. Today he hadn't even looked at you.

Steve sighed. He extended a finger and pushed his retractable pointer down to a stub. Pacing to the table, he dropped his head, laying his palms flat. When he looked up, disappointed-dad energy was thick in his eyes. “Folks, this just won’t do.” he said.

Natasha’s sunglasses slid down her nose. Scott crossed his legs making the swivel chair knock into Wilson and waking him up. The Falcon’s arms flew wide on instinct, whacking Tony in the chest. “Jesus Christmas-” Tony snorted, blinking wildly. “It was a party.” Natasha drawled, pushing the sunglasses back in place with disdain. “Maybe if you’d stayed after the cake you’d have those tight panties of yours in less of a spick, Rogers.”

“That’s Captain Rogers.” he snapped. “We’re on the clock.” “Calm down, Rogers.” Tony said, cresting his fingers. He was remarkably chipper for a man with whipped cream crusted in his hairline. “You’re all sitting on my clock. Remember that.”

Steve flushed scarlet. His eyes narrowed as Tony’s smirk grew.

“All I’m saying is it’s a sorry day when Laufeyson is the star pupil. Look at him!” Steve said, gesturing incredulously at Loki who remained in position; back straight, chin up. But now, one eyebrow arched. “All of you lot in your skivvies and Laufeyson’s in full dress?” Steve shook his head. “I fail to see the humour, Rogers.” Loki said. “Why is it so surprising that I come to our daily summons dressed thus? Certainly I have never presented myself in a tragic towelling monstrosity like Lang here.” “There was that one time with the silk nightie.” Sam whispered to Scott. Scott covered his mouth.

“A silk robe.” Loki snapped.

“Usually you only bring out the Asgardian shit when you’re brown-nosing. Or when you’ve done something shifty.” Natasha said, propping her chin up with a fist. You bet her eyes are closed. Wanda nodded behind her Starbucks.

“Or trying to impress someone,” the witch said. Natasha waved a finger in agreement. “Sexually.” Wanda added.

Loki released a scandalised snort. “How dare you.” he said. Leather creaked against his biceps as he folded his arms.

Beneath the table, your thighs squeezed together. The only thing hotter than Loki in leather, was an indignant Loki in leather. You suddenly became very aware of your quickened breaths making the buttons of your blouse strain. The god’s eyes darted to the side, meeting yours. “What?” he snarled. “Nothing.” you squeaked, swallowing. An awkward silence hung in the room. The scent of stale vodka suddenly seemed very strong. Steve sighed.

“Let’s call it for this morning-” he said, immediately met with muted hisses of celebration around the table. He patted down the air. “Rescheduled for this afternoon. Thirteen-hundred sharp. Wear clothes.” Approval turned to whines and hushed curses as chairs were swivelled and aching bodies shifted. “Unbelievable.” Loki snarled under his breath.

You watched out the corner of your eye as he stood; the flat of his iron stomach inches from your face. The scent of rich leather filled your nostrils while Loki’s fingers nipped beneath the hem of his tunic, tugging it down. He flipped the length of his cape with a sniff. You saw it swirl around his boots briefly as he stepped towards the window, clasping his hands behind his back.

Taking your time, you picked up each piece of carefully laid stationary at your seat. One by one, the rest of the team left the room. Steve was last, his hand hovering on the door handle while he shot you a wary look. As a parting gift, he opened the door wider. “You didn’t stay late?” Loki’s voice was a thick hum in the growing silence. His tone, inscrutable. “Huh?” “At the party.” he said. “You didn’t stay late.”

This time it wasn’t a question. “I usually head off when Thor starts making passes at everyone. I didn’t see you. Were you there?” “He did that?” Loki bristled. “To you?” There was a pause. “To everyone.” you repeated quietly. Loki’s shoulders stiffened. His fingers twitched, thumb digging into one exposed palm behind his back. He was still staring out the window.

“I’ll see you later.” you said, nerves fluttering in your belly. The god’s hair shortened as his chin dipped. You wondered how it would feel to wind those dark strands through your fingers as you rode him. Wondered how the grunts and signs and pretty curses from his lips would sound wet in your ear.

“No.” Loki said. “Excuse me?” “No,” he repeated.

You steadied against the table-top with the pads of your fingertips. Small stars began to burst in your field of vision. “I think the leather looks goo-good,” you stammered. And you didn’t know why.

The thought of him barring the exit of enemies in far flung realms using only that voice barged through the doors of your imagination with the force of a horny caveman. If that was the last sarcastic quip they heard, by god, you imagined they may just have died happy. And hard.

“It looks good.” you repeated, no more than a whisper. Loki turned his head. The sharp profile came into view at a glacial pace. First the peaked tip of his chin, then the slant of his regal nose, then the harsh peak of his cheekbone, then his eyes. Your ass met the table-top with a stumble. There was a small crease between his eyebrows. “Bold of you to make another jest without your compatriots around you, Agent.” he said. Across the short distance between you, venom dripped from his tongue; his hackles raised. “I wasn’t joking,” you said quietly as his gaze fell to your feet with a sneer. The quick breaths that made your buttons strain were back. Loki’s rising stare lingered on your breasts, a small smile tweaking at the corner of his mouth. Words tripped from your lips, forcing their way from behind your teeth. “I like it.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. He turned fully with a ceremonial flourish, the hands clasped behind his back moving to the front and rippling his leather and silken cloak. It fluttered.

“Is that so?” he purred darkly. He didn’t believe you.

You imagined how this is how a rabbit felt in the eyeline of a fox. To look away was to admit weakness, vulnerability. It meant death. And yet – it was the only chance to escape. But did you want to escape? Not really. You wanted to feel the sharp of his teeth fasten to your neck as he sucked and bit and made violent love to every inch of you.

You nodded, not breaking eye-contact. Loki inhaled sharply, chin tilting up as he did so.

His eyes wandered over grim foam tiles as though an enemy lurked beyond the suspended ceiling. They narrowed, darting back and forth. With a thundering heart, you noted one of his heavy boots rise from the floor. He paced forwards slowly, ceremonially, stopping inches from you. Your fingers curled tight around the table’s edge, the messy in your panties beneath the skirt becoming intolerable. Loki cleared his throat. “Am I to understand, contrary to common rhetoric, that you find my Asgardian leathers enticing; Agent?” “I think ‘enticing’ is a little grandiose, is it not?” you laughed, cringing at the way you so easily mirrored his speech. Loki noticed it too. He tilted his head. “I am nothing if not grandiose, Agent.” Loki said. “Am I not impressive? Am I not imposing?”

He trailed a long finger down your bicep, his touch light as a feather. “So often, you mortals use such words as insult.” he mused.

“It is merely a reflection on your own feelings of inferiority. This morning is a perfect example. An attempt at ridicule to deflect from their own pathetic presentation. Each one more bedraggled and an abject embarrassment to their purpose than the last.” Heat began to rise in your cheeks as his finger drifted along your collarbone. There was a pause, his eyes dropping to your lips before the finger brushed the skin at the hollow of your neck. It graced upwards, tracing the curve and stopping beneath the tip of your chin. “But not you.” he said.

The god’s eyes snapped to yours. His cheekbones hollowed under fluorescent lights, mischief glowing from the depths of his irises and painted in every light wrinkle on his brow.

“What else do you like, Agent?” he goaded softly. “Do you like the idea of what lies beneath these leathers?” You swallowed thickly. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Loki-” you said, glancing towards the open door. He followed your eyes, rolling his own. With a flick of his hand the door slammed shut. “I want you,” he breathed, leaning closer so that the heat of his cheek warmed your own, “to tell me what else you like.”

You bit your lip, watching his beautiful face come back into view. With a prang, the thought occurred that perhaps you were not the rabbit after all. Perhaps you were the fox. Loki’s gaze lingered on your face, searching it.

Emboldened, you found the words. “Why should I?”

His brows peaked softly. He released a muted sigh, pursing his lips. “As much as I am loathe to admit it, Romanoff was right.” he said. The hand tilting your chin upwards returned to its mate, clasped against the leather tunic. “I was trying to impress someone, but not that insufferable Rogers.”

He raised his eyebrows.

Excitement blossomed deep in your belly; rising like shaken soda and fizzing around your chest. Loki bit his bottom lip.

“You see, Agent, I like you very much. And I’m afraid that now it has reached the juncture where I must know if you like anything about me...beyond my exquisite taste in battle armour.”

The change in his demeanour was so dramatic that you could only gape. But when it came to Loki, could you expect anything less? Without thinking you reached forward and grasped the belt slung over his chest, pulling him forward.

Loki’s mouth clashed with yours, the heat of his lips giving way to the thrust of his tongue. Your hands slid over his metal epaulettes, tangling in ebony waves that cascaded around his shoulders. He tasted like heaven, the scent of him deep and dangerously delicious in a way you’d never known. A scent a girl could lose herself in forever; gladly.

In seconds your back was flat against the table, its cool wood harsh against the heat of your skin through the blouse. Loki’s ravenous kiss consumed you, licking and dancing inside your mouth like a man possessed. His shallow moans ricocheted between slurps of his lips, wetness coating them.

“Tell me, you infuriating woman,” he panted as a thick forearm landed on the wood beside your head. The metal vambrace clanged against cheap wood. Saliva hung between your mouths as he stared deep into your soul; blue eyes darkening. “Tell me what you like.”

“About you?” you panted. Loki didn’t nod, only lowered his chin.

His nose nudged at your lips, dragging upwards, tongue tracing around the bottom one. He had begun to smile. One of his legs nudged your thighs wider. The god straightened and you felt a thrill run from your scalp to the tips of your dangling toes. He towered above like a monolith, leather tight to his rectangular body. Hair fell around his jaw, perfectly imperfectly wolfish curls flirting against his skin. His cape brushed against your bare calves as he shifted his stance, palms sliding up your thighs and pushing your skirt higher. “Yes; I like the idea of what’s beneath all this,” you whined as you pawed at his leather-clad stomach. It was so hard. Loki smirked, watching beneath half-lidded eyes. “I think about fucking you in the showers after training,” you whispered bashfully as your hips thrust up against your will. Loki raised an eyebrow. “More...” he rumbled. “I think about you all the time. All the awful things I want to do to you, y-you do to me- Loki, uhh-”

His hands crept higher as you spoke, fingers hooking around the hips of your panties. “If I pull these down, darling” he said with an air of reprimand, “will they be wet?” You let out a gasping moan, back arching against the table.

“Excellent.” Loki snickered, pulling the panties down the length of your legs before stepping back between them.

A hand flew to your mouth as you watched one long finger dip between your thighs, running lightly between your folds. He brought it to his lips, sucking gently. His cheekbones hollowed, finger slipping out. He swallowed with a groan of appreciation.

Loki settled himself between your legs, pushing them wider. The height of the table pressed your dripping centre against his crotch. You thought you might explode. His palms slid up your waist, exploring the curves of your body while your legs wrapped around his hips. The god’s cock pressed eagerly against the leather, strong and thick up the centre. His forearms came down at either side of your head, metal wrist-guards clinking.

“I will show you what it is to be mine,” he murmured in your ear.

Loki’s cock settled against your sex, rubbing in perfect gyration. “Oh...god,” you gasped as the weight of his body pressed against your own.

Fingers combed up from the base of his neck, tangling in his hair. The next moment, they grasped around his back, pulling him closer, catching in the folds of his cloak which draped across your bodies. The god grunted filthy praises in your ear as his bound manhood sent electric currents of pleasure deeper than you’d ever known. His searching lips found their way to your neck, your jaw. Every utterance from his throat more disgustingly sensual than the last. Hot leather filled your nostrils, the scent of him strong and intoxicating. Mounting orgasm bubbled in waves, a dream-like trance broken only with whispered groans of pleasure from your throats. Loki Laufeyson was about to make you cum. The thought was unbelievable. And yet, your pussy being tugged and massaged and owned by his leather-bound cock into the throes of heaven knew it to be true. Dry-humped like a teenager in the back of a pick-up.

“Be mine...” Loki mumbled breathlessly, a strangled choke gasping from deep in his chest. He immediately dove for a perishing kiss, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and releasing it with a wet suck. He smouldered down.

Against the bright lights, his dark halo shone; tendrils curling against your cheek and brushing with every calculated roll of his hips. Every muscle in your body tensed. Your legs tightened against his hips.

“Be mine,” he echoed. His face was twisted, and you suddenly wondered how close he was to cumming in those beautiful leather pants. “Loki-” you gasped, clutching at his cape. Back arching, the last thing you heard as climax stormed your brain were the matching pants of the god. The last thing you saw were his peaked brows above dilated pupils so deep you could drown in them.

In the afterglow, all you could manage were garbled phrases as your forearm draped over your eyes. “That was...unexpected.” you panted when the god’s weight lifted from your chest. “Perhaps for you.” Loki winked. “It was very carefully calculated on my part,” You watched in dazed disbelief as Loki sank to his knees, leather creaking, and hoisted your hips higher. He lapped at your soaking pussy, muffled moans seeping from his throat as he buried himself in your fresh pleasure. The flat of his tongue licked a thick stripe from the base to your swollen clit, placing a gentle suck on the tip. His eyes flickered up, meeting yours.

“Immaculate, as expected.” he breathed. His chin glistened.

You groaned as he withdrew; grasping at the air as he went. That small caress of him against your sex was everything you could ever have dreamed. Loki let you reluctantly arrange yourself before offering his hand for the short hop off the table. “Not exactly how I imagined our first time,” you said with a sheepish smile. Loki scanned your face.

“Agent don’t be insulting. That was merely a sample,” he scoffed. “It barely counts.” He stepped forward, pulling you flush against him with a flat palm at the base of your spine. “We must ensure you have eaten something before more intimate activities are indulged in; lest you faint. Or worse.” “Or worse?” “You are only mortal, after all.” Loki smiled slyly. “And this,” he gestured to his cock; hard and straining against the leather, “can be rather a handful. As well can his Master.” You slapped him on the shoulder. Loki smirked. Remembering the unexpected schedule change, you frowned. “You think we have time before the meeting later?”

Loki snorted. “We’re not attending. The two of us fulfilled our obligations, unlike the more cretinous members of our party.” You raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to get me in trouble, I can tell.” Loki’s fingers danced up your back, a light thrust of his hips making your body keen. His dirty exhale flooded your ear, the warm scent of him overloading your senses.

“Oh Agent,” he purred against the skin; his eyes darting covertly to the pair of panties discarded on the floor. “As if you expected anything less.”

Taglist (continued in comments)

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog

[arcadia-of-pluto]

LADS Headcanons

MC + reader = same person

Word count; 2.7k

Warnings; 18+ content for some parts, but honestly it's not even that bad.

Notes; Hey guys! I felt a bit bad since I haven't been working on...anything. So I decided to whip this up (mostly because I had a Caleb headcanon and I wasn't sure how to get it out there, so they all get headcanons!). Now, keep in mind, these are my headcanons so they're not canon or anything. It's just all in good fun, you know? Sorry if some are shorter than others

Also this isn't proof-read at all so if there's spelling errors and stuff...well, it just shows I'm human! You know?

Caleb

So, as seen in Caleb's 4-star promise card “Deceptive Solitude”, I don't think Caleb and MC would shy away from seeing each other in any state of undress. Spoilers for the card, but she walks into the bathroom while he has a towel slung low on his waist. Water dripped down his bare chest. Neither is embarrassed or shocked. Caleb isn't trying to cover himself up in a panic and MC isn't staring at his bare chest or towel clad lower half. They just have a normal conversation while he's cleaning his gun and looking at each other in the mirror.

Then, a little while later, he stands behind her in front of the mirror, still only in a towel and it's still a calm and domestic moment. No one is nervous or shy, trying to rush to get dressed. It's clear that Caleb has been shirtless in front of her and has probably even walked around in a towel in front of her. So, the same could be said for her.

I think Caleb would be extremely calm if she changed in front of him. It's just a normal thing for them. As long as they have undergarments on or their privates are covered, I don't think they would feel embarrassed or even shy.

That's not to say no one can write Caleb as a shy, blushing dweeb (because he definitely is that), but that's just one of the biggest headcanons I have for him since seeing that card.

Other headcanons would be;

He's a panty sniffer. We all knew this, all assume as much. He volunteers to do the laundry, accidentally touches something wet, and turns out…it's MC's panties that she touched herself in. He doesn't realize this, ends up sniffing his fingers, and he's surprised. The thought of what she did, of what you did, in those panties turns him off and…then he uses them to get off. An additional headcanon would be that he steals any of your brand new panties, gets off in them, making sure to cum all over them, and then washes them for you to wear. He's…breaking them in for you, so to speak.

He gets annoyed whenever anyone else, besides himself, refers to him as your brother. He doesn't want to be known as your brother to anyone. He started acting this way the moment he hit puberty. He's been in love with you this whole time, but isn't sure what his next step is since he doesn't want to ruin the relationship you have. Before the explosion, he tries to keep his jealousy in check. During your school years, most of his fights would be between him and guys who wanted to ask you out – whether they were serious or wanting to ask you out as a joke. He'd fight with them all, but then brush off your concern by saying they were just bullies.

He would most definitely be a virgin. I can't imagine him even wanting to have sex with anyone other than MC. Even just to try it out. Same with kissing. He doesn't seem easily susceptible to peer pressure either, so nothing would be able to tempt him. He would, however, practice. Whether it's kissing apples, pillows, anything of the sort. He'd also more than likely own an onahole (or a pocket pussy), he'd imagine it as MC and experiment a lot with it. He'd finger it, actually fuck it, he would try licking it but he'd prefer the real thing. I also feel he wouldn't enjoy watching porn, he'd rather imagine you in various situations than watch some random get plowed. He wouldn't be extremely kinky, but he'd be up to try anything you wanted to at least once. On days you were away from home for awhile, I feel he'd go to your room and grind his dick on your pillows with a pair of your panties held up to his face. He'd cum all over your pillow case, then quickly wash it once post nut clarity hit and he'd feel a little guilty over it.

He'd always be daydreaming. Whether it be about dating you, proposing, getting married, having specifically one kid. He would only want one and he'd prefer she look like you, so he could have another princess to spoil. He would prefer only one child, because anymore and your attention wouldn't be on him as much…and he doesn't like that thought. He writes down baby names in a journal; alongside your schedule, your likes and dislikes, honeymoon plans, anything you've off-handly said you wanted, anything you've said looked cute, and his biggest plan of all — putting Gran in a care facility.

Caleb doesn't exactly care for Josephine. I mean, I can clearly see why. Sure, she gives him an allowance, but it's clear that she prefers MC over him. He was just a requirement for adopting MC. If she didn't, MC would've never come with her. She didn't go to his graduation, she didn't visit him at the hospital when he was injured. And it makes sense for Caleb not to like her as much. He has all his memories from being experimented on. Sure Josephine wasn't in charge of his tests, but she was still an Ever Researcher, someone can't trust. But he was a child. This was the only way he could protect MC and not be separated from her, so he was willing to do it.

When Caleb sleeps alone, he moves a lot in his sleep. Especially since he's always having nightmares. Sometimes, he'll wake up on the floor with covers tangled around him. However, when he sleeps with you, his nightmares are more manageable. He doesn't care how you both sleep as long as you're in his arms. The moment you're out of his reach, he wakes up and he'll pull you back.

(This is feeling like less of a headcanon post and more of a character dissection 😭 the others won't be as detailed since I'm unsure of how any of them would act in certain situations ;-; )

Sylus

Sylus would also be one who isn't embarrassed or shy about being naked in front of MC – however, I feel, in this case, MC would be the shy and embarrassed one. Sylus isn’t someone she's been around for 10+ years like Caleb, she's only known him for a few months. So if she saw him shirtless or in a towel, she'd definitely try to cover her eyes and blush, shouting at him to ask what his problem is. But if he were injured and shirtless, she wouldn't hesitate to run over and help in any way she can.

This applies to all of the love interests. Even if she's embarrassed from the sight of their chest and abs, the sight of blood would cause her to jump into action.

Sylus would also enjoy watching her from afar. We've seen how he kept an eye on her with Mephisto before they even met, so who's to say he hasn't used Mephisto to spy on her while changing or while she was getting off? Especially after he's met her and she's aware of who he is. MC would be mortified over this since she views Mephisto as a pet and not a highly intelligent robot that happens to be in the shape of a crow, but Sylus would get a good tease out of it.

He's also always keeping an eye on her, which is how he coincidentally shows up everywhere she goes.

She's got a high confidential Hunter's Association meeting? He's somehow in the same building doing a weapons deal.

He loves slotting himself into her every day life, so her co-workers are aware of his existence. Loves teasing MC as she's extremely worried about him getting caught and locked away, when she should instead be worried that she'll be caught with him and be in big trouble for hiding the leader of Onychinus.

He avoids using his right eye on MC because he's worried he'll see any desires that don't include him.

This one is more actually canon, but he sleeps during the day (because most of his work is at night but) so he can keep an eye on MC at night. To make sure her house is safe, among other things, while he does his usual work. He prefers to sleep sitting up with his bedside lamp on. Unless you're in bed with him, then he prefers to cuddle with your front facing him. He never wants to sleep with your back to him, because then he feels like you're mad at him.

Rafayel

He would be so embarrassed to be undressed in front of you that you would forget to be embarrassed. However, his shyness would be gone after the first time. It was just his knee jerk reaction. He was almost worried you'd avoid him if you saw him like that. Even if he's had you in another life, he's nervous he'll never get the chance to do so again. So that’s why he's always hesitant with his actions, and why he's passionate and intense when showing his love.

Since he slumbers on the seafloor, waiting for MC to reincarnate once more, he's not used to having legs so his ankles are a tad bit weaker than a normal person's. He can be clumsy and he walks with a barely noticeable limp. You can definitely tell whenever he's standing up since he never puts all of his weight down fully on one of his feet (I don't remember exactly which one though and I'd hate to be wrong).

He tries to hide his pain, his feelings, by being sarcastic and making jokes all the time. Sure, his jokes can be a tad hurtful at times, but there's never any venom behind them. His optimistic demeanor hides his tidal wave of emotions hidden just under the surface.

He lives by the ocean on Whitesand Bay so he can listen to the seagulls, breathe in the salt from the water, and occasionally go for a swim. Because of this, many fishermen in Linkon will claim they saw a mermaid in the water. It's obviously just Rafayel, but most people would chalk it up to being manatees or a new type of aquatic Wanderer.

He likes to keep an eye on MC from afar, similarly to Sylus. But, since he doesn't have Mephisto, he puts on a disguise and follows her around. Or he'll hire a private investigator to learn about what's going on in his life. (Most of this is canon since he watched over her while he was in college and did a presentation on her campus)

He sleeps on his stomach, face buried in his pillows while his satin shirt rides up his back. While he doesn't prefer to sleep shirtless or naked, he does like having his skin exposed. Always having a foot out from under the covers.

Xavier

Now, I would say Xavier would be embarrassed but who am I kidding? From what any of his steamy 5-stars show, this man would not be embarrassed at all. Instead, he'd revel in the fact that you're embarrassed. He'd tilt his head back and raise an eyebrow as you blushed and struggled to look away.

He absolutely loves to be in control, to toss you around like a rag doll, let everyone know just who you belong to. But then outside of the bedroom, he's the sweetest man alive. Even giving you puppy dog eyes and apologizing if he barely bumps you.

He tends to keep an eye on you through light. Wanting to always make sure you're safe and if any other man gets on his nerves, he will let it be known. He's a very jealous man, and for no reason too. Even if you're in a secure relationship, he'll still get mad at any man hanging around you. No matter how many times you reassure him, he's still upset. Which could be annoying, but I feel like it stems from a lot of different things.

Mainly, whenever Xavier went missing (during his Lightseeker Myth) for over 300-years, Jeremiah was by MC's side the whole time. He can say all he wants about how he wouldn't be mad if she dated someone else, but we know that's bullshit. Though it is odd that he's not as jealous in that life as he is in this current one. Maybe it's because this is his last life with MC and he wants to be her one and only? But with Queen MC, he wasn't as jealous since he knew he could get another MC?

Honestly, not sure. The whole of his Lightseeker Myth kind of bothers me – and i say this as someone who loves Xavier, but Queen MC was done dirty. I feel as if this version of MC is the most miserable, the one who got screwed over the most. Because at least when MC died in her other myths, she died knowing she was loved. At least when the other love interested died in their myths, she knew they cared about her. But in Lightseeker? She went from knight to queen, with no prior training. She was forced into being queen to a planet that was on the brink of death. A dying planet with citizens that she cared for, but with no way to save them or herself. Left all alone, knowing that her best friend left her to travel with Xavier and that Xavier left to find another version of her (while she didn't fully know who he left Philos for, she'd definitely be able to figure this out after he left).

Anyways, rambles aside, I think Xavier is so jealous and clingy because he doesn't want to lose you. He wants to make the most of his time with you and finally have a chance to love you and be with you. Which, in turn, makes him easily excitable when it comes to sex – especially with how his 5-stars are portrayed.

I think Xavier either sleeps like a sick Victorian child on his deathbed (flat on his back, hands on his chest) or he sleeps curled up in a ball. When in bed with you, it's constant cuddles. Usually him curled up against your back, an arm slung over your waist.

Zayne

Zayne is similar to Caleb in the aspect of, MC is rather comfortable around him. Yes, there may be a bit of shyness and hesitation when seeing him in a state of undress, but that would all fade away rather quickly. Internally, Zayne would be embarrassed, but his first priority would be to calm your nerves.

While at Akso for doctor's appointments, he would be professional and curt. He'd do his best not to show favourtism, but if you came in gravely injured, he'd be the first to internally freak out and rush you into the operating room.

He'd be a calm and gentle lover, oftentimes a bit vanilla. Talking you through it. Other times, he can be rather rough (look no further than his 5-star card “Absolute Zeal”). < also, he'd more than likely be a lightweight since he doesn't drink often.

I can't really think of what else to write for him, like I'm honestly not even sure how he would sleep, but I'll still try.

He loves to hold hands. He tends to rub his thumb across the top of your hand and over your knuckles. Tired cuddles are a must with his head resting on yours. Always kissing the crown on your head. His stomach does flips whenever you kiss the scars on his arms. He does his best to stay composed while, on the inside, he's an absolute mess. He loves to play with your hair, always keeping a hair tie in his pocket for when you want to pull your hair up. He could mindlessly braid your hair for hours on end.

Zayne sleeps in a multitude of ways depending on how tired he is or if he needs to be on standby for work. Some days he could fall asleep while sitting up, glasses on with a book open on his lap. Other times, he could sleep on his side or even his back. When he sleeps next to you, he's always got to be holding your hand. He'll hold your hand close to his face while he sleeps, lips brushing against your knuckles with his arm around your waist.

[sweetreasures]

act casual

exhibitionism, roommates, dubcon, masturbation, livestreaming, perv!yunho, super short idol!yunsang based on the above very real moment from a recent yeosang live lmao

[minors dni, ageless blogs will be blocked]

masterlist

yeosang and yunho have a new rule: always let your roommate know when you are livestreaming. it was a long time coming—after one too many incidents of loud gaming sessions overheard, and unknowingly entering their communal space in various states of undress. they needed a way to minimize the damage that should arise if one of them were to eventually be caught balls out on camera.

a quick text (hey dude im on the couch. about to go live for a bit 👍). yunho immediately reacted to the message with a thumbs up of his own. formalities settled, yeosang opened the group’s streaming platform to begin interacting with fans.

“hi, atiny! did you guys arrive home safe from the concert?”

messages flooded in as fans joined his live. they remarked on how amazing the show was, how sad they were to miss it, how beautiful yeosang looked with no makeup on, how they could hardly wait to see what was next for ateez. yeosang beamed at the camera, acknowledging them one by one as if greeting old friends.

“sorry if you hear running water in the background. yunho is washing up, i wanted to talk to you all before going in after him.”

as if on cue, yunho began to sing loudly from the shower, an incoherent mixture of random words and a melody he was making up on the spot.

how does he still have so much energy TT

LOL happy birthday oppa!!

is yuyu joining the live later?

yunho was nothing short of entertaining, priding himself on his ability to make people smile by acting like an utter fool. sure, their manager would undoubtedly scold him later for being so loud this late at night in the dorms. but for now, yeosang chuckled as atiny continued reacting to yunho’s ridiculous antics.

tonight’s live followed the typical routine—he delivered a few behind the scenes stories from finale rehearsals, including a particularly hilarious moment where mingi ended up dropping his cane during arriba and nearly tripping over it. hongjoong joked that if he kept this up, he would need a real cane soon. eventually, mingi’s name was changed in their group chat to “grandpa”. he answered a few questions and vaguely dodged a few well placed spoiler baits. he showed off his freshly dyed hair and basked in the praise that came pouring into the chat.

twenty minutes lapsed before the shower water finally shut off. yeosang, far too engrossed in yet another story, failed to notice when the bathroom door opened and his roommate emerged.

“oh, my bad. are you still live?”

yeosang finally looked up from his screen and spotted yunho standing in their hallway, soaking wet and completely uncovered. he leaned against the wall as if carrying on the most normal conversation in the world. yeosang jumped in terror, covering the cameras on his phone by hugging it close to his chest.

“duh! oh my god atiny this man is crazy.” he calmed down a bit, cautiously lifting his phone to confirm that the camera was indeed still facing his own beautiful and fully dressed being. atiny knew the drill by now; they playfully asked if yunho had walked in wearing his underwear. yeosang evaded their inquiries in a way that made it super obvious that this was exactly what happened.

of course, he couldn’t tell them the situation was far more complicated than they’d imagined. that he was fighting to keep his attention away from yunho as he strolled over to the clean laundry pile and dug around for a towel. away from the fine drops of water that clung onto his lean muscles like delicate glass accessories before wetting the carpet beneath his feet.

as he spoke, yeosang thought he was relatively successful at hiding his shock when yunho set the towel down on an armchair across the room before resting his bare ass on top. on the contrary, atiny informed him through the chat that his cheeks were turning a deeper shade of crimson with every passing second.

yunho must be very nice to look at like that 🙂‍↕️

yeosang what do you see right now??

is this how it feels to live with yunsang…

“no, no, it’s not that, it’s just…”

yunho sunk deeper into the armchair, playing with the pretty pink nipples that perched erect on his broad chest. yeosang doesn’t want to notice the cock resting semi-hard on yunho’s thigh—but he does.

yeosang slides further down the couch, careful to keep yunho out of range “i’m used to it. we’re roommates, after all.”

“it’s my fault. i forgot to grab a towel before washing up!” yunho exclaims from the chair, his tone steady as he stroked his cock. “you don’t mind if i stay here, right?”

yeosang shook his head. “not at all. be my guest.”

yunho smirks as he continues playing with himself and listening to yeosang talk with their fans. he’s more animated this time around, probably overcompensating for how flustered he got upon yunho’s arrival. suspect nothing, atiny. just two friends hanging out in their living room. yunho made zero attempt to hide the lewd noises as he spread the leaking precum down his shaft, or the soft sighs when his thumb ran over a sensitive area on his tip.

doesnt it sound a bit….naughty over there?? 😂

“oh, haha.” yeosang feigned sarcasm, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner. now more than ever he was grateful for the more adult tone he was allowed to take with his fanbase, where jokes like that were commonplace rather than cause for concern. “my mom brought homemade japchae over to celebrate our last show. if only my roommate would eat a little quieter over there.”

laughing emojis flooded the chat. atiny were seemingly satisfied for his very on the fly response. yunho smirked and raised his eyebrow at an embarrassed yeosang. japchae? seriously? yeosang ignored him, opting to answer a few more questions. yunho quickened his pace around his shaft, his stomach hollowing as he squeezed his abdominal muscles to stimulate his perineum against the plush towel. it was clear the conversation was winding down, with yeosang prepared to announce his leave soon.

he imagined all of the atiny gathered in yeosang’s live. surely a few thousand, all of whom his roommate had to entertain while yunho propped his thighs—chiseled from a lifetime of dancing—in full view on the arms of their living room chair. his mouth hung open as his release threatened to spill over from his core. he didn’t know which excited him more—cumming in front of yeosang while his fans were none the wiser, or the growing tent in his roommate’s jeans.

“please don’t tell seonghwa i shared this…if i get a call later, i’m never telling you anything again.” yeosang joked as he waved at the camera, his eyes scanning the rapidfire chat messages begging him to stay for a few more minutes or maybe even hours. he made up some bogus excuse about having a schedule in the morning. yunho whimpered into his palm, tears hugging the corners of his eyes as he struggled to swallow back moans.

“do you have anything you want to say before you— or we…go?”

yunho uncovers his mouth just long enough to choke our a barely audible “i love you, atiny.” before ejaculating onto his stomach—semen streaming out in continuous thick ropes, warm and sticky to the touch. yeosang quickly turned the live off before anyone had the opportunity to question what had just happened, as he didn’t have much time himself. his boxers had just reached his knees when he fell to the ground, hand working furiously towards his own orgasm.

“seeing me jack off in front of atiny got you that hard?”

“shut up. god, please.”

“dude look at you. any longer and you were gonna come in your fucking pants.”

yeosang started in retort before the words get caught in his throat. they both knew yunho wasnt exactly incorrect, and in many respects, yeosang probably looked more pathetic down there on the floor than yunho had sitting naked as fuck on their chair.

“FUCK.” yeosang’s stomach contracted reflexively, his orgasm overtaking him in powerful waves. he felt the warmth of semen dripping down his fingers.

“you are such an idiot, bro.” yunho’s voice was much closer than where yeosang last recalled him to be. he tried to calm himself down, his chest eventually settling back into its normal breathing rhythm. when he opened his eyes, yunho was dabbing at the carpet in front of him with his towel.

“the smell is going to be a bitch to clean out.”

yeosang exhaled, “says the person cleaning it with an ass sweat towel…”

yunho considered yeosang’s remark for a brief moment before tossing the towel back towards their laundry pile. they figured it would be best for seonghwa to handle it.

(end)

A/N: the poll work is still coming! this was inspired by a twitter post that i just cant seem to let go of. thanks for reading 🙏 i’m also getting a taglist together! if you are interested, please fill out this form!

[zieisonline]

You’re kidding…

Thoughts are running WILD

The hair, the muscles, the chain, and the waist?!

(Some less than PG13 thoughts about shirtless and pantless Willy below 👇)

I am of the strong belief that William feels his most comfortable without clothing. Not even in an inherently sexual way, he just feels constricted with the feeling of fabric on his body. He is particularly adverse to the many layers of hockey gear that is required for practice and games, which is why the second that he hits the locker room floor, he begins to shed it all off.

His teammates are used to it, and thus unbothered by his unabashed nakedness.

But when it comes to personal relationships, he likes to have a little bit of decorum, at least in the beginning.

It wouldn’t be until you were staying at his place for a couple days in a row that he finally gives up and falls back into his routine of ripping off his shirt the second he walks through the door, instantly relieved from that straining, constricting feeling all clothing inevitably gives him, no matter the style.

And it’s not like you have anything to complain about.

Seeing him topless is a treat you are always ready to devour.

His muscles and the body hair that litters them just does something to you that you could never explain.

The broad expanse of his back and biceps make you drool, and the patches of chest and arm hair awaken something primal in you. Not to mention the way his silver chain rests heavily around his thick neck, contrasting sharply against his skin. The sight so attractive and masculine it’s overwhelming.

He welcomes the way you are drawn to his exposed skin, wrapping his arms around you as you pepper his shoulders and chest with warm kisses whenever you can. He leans into you when you approach him from behind, rubbing your hands into his back muscles, and trailing down to wrap around his waist.

He even eventually stops calling you out when he catches you staring at him throughout the day, raking your eyes across his every pore, silently thanking whatever god decided to send him your way.

And don’t even get me started on the soft patch below his navel. Not just a happy trail, but a field in which you want to lay your head on and rest against him for as long as he would let you.

The more comfortable he gets with you, the more of himself he puts on display.

From walking around the kitchen without a shirt on, to sitting next to you on the couch in just his underwear, to chilling completely naked on your bed. Depending on the day you would see your boyfriend in various states of undressed.

Besides his comfort, a clear positive effect of his inability to keep an entire outfit on, was the way his body became increasingly more accessible to you.

If you were cuddling and he was dressed in only his underwear, it would take very little for you to reach around and place your hand down the waistband of his boxers. Resting on his ass or cupping his front, the gesture just another way to feel close to him, to hold him.

I think he would take extreme comfort in this, having your hands on him but not needing it to be hot and steamy, but slow and loving, a gentle fondling to make you both feel closer to each other. 💗

[orpheusluvr]

They catch a glimpse of you

NSFW WARNING

This is basically just some scenarios with various idv male characters reacting to seeing you either undressed or seeing a slight part of you (female reader btw)

But the reader (you) actually has a huge crush on these characters and you realise that this is a perfect way to get closer to them (totally not writing this in my perspective 😃)

Anyways, enjoy!!!

Characters included: Luca, Norton, Orpheus and Frederick

-

Luca:

You stared at the large red wine stain on your favourite dress and sighed. Even though poor Demi continuously apologised for being clumsy and accidentally spilling it on you, it made you slightly annoyed considering that you decided to wear this dress especially for today.

You carefully took it off and placed it in the laundry basket to be washed later. As you looked down, your eyes widened as you saw that the wine had stained your skin too. The material must’ve been too thin and the wine went through it.

Time for a bath then, it seems.

Just as you were about to remove your bra, you heard a knock on your door.

“Y/N? Are you in there?”

It was Luca.

You nervously bit your lip, feeling his presence outside behind the door. What would happen if you let him in while you were in this state?

“Y/N?! Say something if you’re there!” Luca called out.

“I’m here!” You said.

You felt a blush form on your face.

“You can come in.”

You immediately heard the sound of the door opening.

“Phew, you had me wor-”

Luca was immediately cut off after looking at you. His eyes scanned your body, admiring every part of it.

“Need help with getting rid of that stain?” He said, pointing to your chest.

You heart was pounding.

“That would be really helpful.” You smiled.

Luca smirked.

“Alright, I’ll take care of it. But I’m expecting a reward afterwards.” He said, carrying you into the bathroom.

Norton:

“Hey Norton, what are you up to?” You said, entering the lounge.

“Hey Y/N! I was just relaxing.” He said.

You sat next to him, opening the book that you were carrying.

“What’s that?” Norton asked.

“It’s a really interesting book that I found hidden in the library. It has a lot of weird symbols and things in it.” You said.

Norton gave a laugh.

“You really do amuse me a lot.” He said.

“I’m being serious! Just look at how interesting it is!” You said, turning yourself to face him and showing him the page that you were on.

But Norton wasn’t paying attention to the book at all. Because his eyes suddenly drifted off somewhere else.

Your shirt was hanging loosely from your chest, showing a large amount of cleavage. As you moved in the seat, your breasts would follow your movements, practically almost about to pop out from the shirt at any second.

Norton felt his dick twitch and gulped nervously.

“Norton? Are you alright?” You said, worryingly. You saw how his face had suddenly gone red and he was sweating. You placed the book down onto the table, then turned around to touch his forehead. He immediately let out a groan.

You were confused and shocked at how he suddenly became “unwell”.

“Hold on, I’ll get you a glass of water.” You said, getting up. But Norton immediately grabbed your hand, making you sit on his lap.

“There’s no need…just stay like this…” he panted.

You then immediately realised why he was acting like this when you felt something between your legs.

Orpheus:

You knocked on the door to Orpheus’ bedroom.

“Come in.” You heard him say.

You slowly opened the door, then gently closed it behind you.

Orpheus was sitting on his desk, completing some paperwork. He looked up and gave you a smile, his face illuminated by the candle next to him.

“Ah, nice to see you Y/N. Why are you here at this hour?” He said.

“I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d give you some company since I know that you stay up late.” You said.

You just needed a random excuse to see him, since you and Orpheus barely had time to talk to each other.

Orpheus nodded.

“I see. Well, I guess you could help me with some of my work. I won’t force you though.” He said.

“I’d be happy to.” You said.

Orpheus nodded.

“Alright, sit here.” He said, motioning to the chair in front of him. His arm accidentally hit one of the papers on his desk and it flew all the way underneath his bed.

“I’ll get it.” You said.

You went on all fours and crawled underneath the bed.

What you didn’t realise was that Orpheus was checking you out, smiling to himself as he saw the shape of your ass from behind. However, as a gentleman, he managed to control his urges to do anything with you.

You got back up and walked over to him, placing the paper on the desk.

“Thank you, but I think I shall resume my work later on. I have something else to take care of.” He said, getting up.

“Do you need help with that too?” You said.

Orpheus looked at you with confusion.

“So, you knew I was looking at you?” He said.

You also looked at him in confusion.

“You were?”

You knew damn well that Orpheus did look at you from behind but you were just playing along that you had no idea. You had purposely arched your back for him when you were under his bed, and it seems like it worked like a charm. Because the next few hours were spent in his bedroom, behind closed doors.

Frederick:

“Absolutely magnificent piano skills. You seem to be getting much better.” Frederick said.

“Thank you. I have been practicing a lot.” You said, getting up from the seat.

“I could tell. Anyways, would you like to take a stroll in the garden with me? You do need a break, after all.” He said.

“Sure.” You nodded.

Shortly after, you and Frederick slowly walked around the garden, taking in the fresh breeze. But all of a sudden, the wind became extremely strong. Strong enough to blow the hem of your dress upwards, exposing your thighs.

Frederick immediately pushed the dress down for you. But it didn’t mean that he didn’t catch a glimpse of what was under it.

“Maybe we should go inside now.” He said.

He immediately realised that what he said sounded extremely wrong.

“Ahem, I mean. We should enter the manor and resume our duties.” He said, slightly embarrassed.

You gave a laugh.

“Frederick, you didn’t need to correct yourself from the first time.” You said.

He immediately felt himself tense up after hearing that.

“Pardon?” He said, his eyes glistening with slight lust.

“I’m saying…you should go inside…me.” You said, your voice filled with desire.

Frederick was almost weak in the knees after hearing you say that, especially with that tone.

He gently took your hand.

“Then let’s go. I’d like to hear you make some melodious sounds.”

[growthhyp]

Amazing stories! Would be hot to seem some dad/son stories.

The Milk Carton

James, a 40-year-old male with a skinny flat body, standing tall and straight as an arrow, reflecting his strong and unwavering sexual preference. He is dressed casually in a baggy pink shirt that complements his bright skin color, with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his thin arms, showcasing his meticulous nature and attention to detail, much like the work he does as an accountant. His short, blonde, straight hair is neatly styled, framing a gentle smile that lights up the room. In the background is a cozy living room, filled with the warmth of home and a hint of his organized lifestyle. Sitting across from James on a comfortable sofa is his son, Elijah, who shares the same bright skin tone and blonde hair. At 18 years old, Elijah is also slim and fit, mirroring his father's physique. He wears a gray hoodie and jeans, his youthful energy and curiosity visible in his posture. With his eyes slightly cast down, Elijah is absorbed in a conversation with James, displaying his shyness but also the deep love he holds for his father. Both of them are engaged in a heartfelt moment, with a sense of understanding and mutual respect, as Elijah follows in James' footsteps, pursuing a career in accounting. The room is adorned with subtle hints of their shared interests, creating an inviting and harmonious environment that celebrates their bond. Despite their different sexual preferences, the unspoken connection between them is palpable, as they share a passion for numbers and a love for each other that transcends any labels or expectations.

After the discussion, Elijah retreats to his sanctuary, his bedroom. He closes the door with a gentle click, the sound echoing through the corridor. His room is a stark contrast to the rest of the house, a cocoon of his own personality, filled with vibrant colors. The walls are lined with bookshelves, their contents revealing his love for fantasy and adventure. His computer, a gateway to his digital world, sits on a neatly organized desk, surrounded by notebooks and textbooks, a testament to his academic pursuits.

With the door closed, Elijah feels a sense of liberation. He opens his laptop and logs into his Tumblr account, his heart racing with anticipation. The screen flickers to life, displaying a dashboard filled with images of muscular men in various states of undress. His eyes widen, and his breath quickens as he scrolls through the feed, each picture more enticing than the last. The men are chiseled, their bodies sculpted by what seems like the gods themselves. The sight of them fills him with a warmth that spreads through his body, igniting a spark of desire in his loins.

He pulls off his shirt, revealing his own flat chest and slender frame. Elijah's gaze lingers on his reflection in the mirror, a silent reminder of the physique he craves. He runs his fingers over his chest, imagining the feel of solid muscles beneath his fingertips. He takes a deep breath and lets his hand drift down to the waistband of his jeans. With trembling fingers, he unbuttons them and slides the fabric down his legs, stepping out of them with a sense of urgency.

Elijah's hand wraps around his cock, stroking it gently as he sits on the edge of his bed. His eyes remain glued to the screen, watching as the men in the images flex and pose for the camera. Each stroke is a silent plea for transformation, a wish to embody the strength and dominance that he sees in the men before him. His cheeks flush with arousal as he picks up the pace, his breaths coming faster and more ragged. The room is filled with the sound of his hand moving against his skin, a rhythmic dance that matches the pounding in his chest.

His body responds with a spasm of pleasure, and with a soft and quiet groan, Elijah ejaculates, his seed spurting onto the fabric of his favorite pillow. The sensation is overwhelming. He collapses back onto the bed, his body shaking with the intensity of his climax. The room is quiet once more, the only evidence of his passion the sticky mess on his stomach and the soft, satisfied smile on his lips.

As he cleans himself up, Elijah's mind wanders to the outside world. He opens his phone and logs into his social media account. Scrolling through the feed, a vibrant poster catches his eye. "CARNIVAL COMING SOON!" it reads, with images of flashing lights and thrilling rides. His heart leaps at the sight of it. The carnival is opening just a short bike ride away. It's an opportunity too tempting to ignore.

With newfound excitement, Elijah walks out of his room, the scent of his desire still lingering in the air. He finds James in the kitchen, preparing dinner. "Hey, Dad," he says, trying to sound casual. "Could I go to the carnival tomorrow afternoon?"

James looks up from the stove, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. He wipes his hand on his apron, leaving a smudge of flour on his cheek. "The carnival, huh? What's the occasion?"

Elijah shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just thought it'd be fun to check out the new rides and stuff."

James nods, his expression a blend of amusement and concern. "Alright, be safe. And don't let those carnies sweet-talk you into anything, you know how they can be."

Elijah laughs, the sound light and carefree. "I'll be fine, Dad. I've got street smarts," he says, flashing a grin that James can't help but return.

With a nod of approval, James goes back to cooking, his mind drifting to the pile of paperwork waiting for him in his home office. Meanwhile, Elijah heads to the bathroom, the anticipation of tomorrow's adventure buzzing through him like an electric current. He brushes his teeth, the minty toothpaste a refreshing counterpoint to the lingering scent of his desire.

===

The next morning, Elijah wakes with a start, his body heavy and his thoughts immediately drifting to the carnival. He glances down and notices the familiar outline of his morning erection pushing against the fabric of his briefs. With a smirk, he reaches down to adjust himself, his hand grazing the sensitive skin. His thoughts of the carnival and the men he'll see there only add to his arousal. He quickly takes care of his morning routine, eager to get dressed and set out for the day.

The sun is high in the sky when he arrives at the carnival, the air thick with the smells of popcorn and cotton candy. The vibrant colors of the rides and games assault his senses, and the laughter and music create an intoxicating symphony that fills his soul. The crowd is a sea of people, all shapes and sizes, their faces alight with excitement and wonder. Elijah weaves through the throngs of visitors, his eyes darting from one attraction to the next, searching for something fun to do.

And then he sees it. A tent, standing tall and proud, with a sign that reads "The Greatest Sebastian - Your Wishes, Our Command!" Below the words is an illustration of a wizard, his muscles bulging as he holds a staff adorned with a crystal that seems to pulse with an otherworldly energy. Elijah's heart skips a beat, and without a moment's hesitation, he strides toward it. The flap of the tent opens with a flourish, and he steps inside, his eyes widening in amazement.

Before him is Sebastian, the very embodiment of masculine perfection. He's a towering figure with a body that seems to have been carved from marble by a master sculptor. His long, curly brown hair cascades down his broad shoulders, and his piercing yellow eyes seem to see into the depths of Elijah's soul. He's dressed in a velvet magician's robe that hides his incredible physique, but Elijah can't help but imagine the rippling muscles that surely lie beneath. On the table in front of him sits a single, glowing white orb that seems to pulsate.

Sebastian looks up from his crystal ball with a knowing smile, his teeth a dazzling white against his tanned skin. "Welcome, young man," he says, his voice a rich baritone that sends shivers down Elijah's spine. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

Elijah clears his throat, trying to find the right words. "Well, I… I've heard that you can grant wishes," he stammers, his cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and hope.

Sebastian's smile widens, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Ah, a young soul seeking change," he says, stroking his chin. "What is it that you wish for? Riches, fame, perhaps a lover's heart?"

Elijah's gaze lingers on the wizard's bulging biceps, and he swallows hard. "I… I want to be like you," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to be strong, muscular, and… dominant."

Sebastian's eyes narrow, and he leans in closer, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. "A noble aspiration, indeed," he says, his smile turning into a smirk. "But such transformations are not for the faint of heart. They come with great power, but also great… changes."

Elijah's eyes light up with determination, his voice steady. "I'm not faint of heart," he says firmly. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, his smile never wavering. "Very well," he says, his tone dripping with amusement. "But remember, once you embark on this journey, there is no turning back."

Elijah nods, his heart pounding in his chest. "I understand," he says, his voice strong and steady.

Sebastian rises from his chair, his movements fluid and graceful despite his towering frame. He gestures to a shelf behind him, where an assortment of bottles and jars glint in the soft light of the tent. He reaches for a bottle that seems to call out to him, its crystal surface shimmering with an ethereal glow. It's filled with a white liquid that swirls hypnotically when he holds it up to the light. The potion is contained in a simple glass bottle with a cork stopper, sealed with a crimson wax that matches the color of the wizard's robe. The muscular man's hand dwarfs the container as he holds it out to Elijah.

"This," he says, his voice low and serious, "is a potion of transformation. Drink from it, and you shall become as I am: a man of great strength and power." His eyes dance with mischief as he adds, "But remember, young one, with great power comes great… attraction to those of your kind."

Elijah takes the bottle with trembling hands, the weight of the potion seeming to echo the gravity of the decision he's about to make. "What do you mean by 'those of my kind'?" he asks, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Sebastian's smirk deepens, his yellow eyes gleaming. "The potion has a peculiar side effect," he says, leaning in to whisper in Elijah's ear. "It tends to… enhance one's attraction to the same gender. You, my dear, will crave the touch of men as you never have before."

Elijah's eyes widen, but the excitement in his voice is clear. "I'm okay with that," he says, his voice barely audible. "I'm… I'm already…"

Sebastian's smile softens, his eyes filled with understanding. "You're already aware of your desires," he says gently. "That's good. The potion will simply amplify what's already within you. But remember, young man, it's not just about physical changes. The transformation will also alter your very essence, shaping your identity in ways you can't begin to imagine."

Elijah nods, his heart racing with excitement and anticipation. He takes the bottle from Sebastian's hand, the cool glass a stark contrast to his warm, sweaty palm. "Thank you," he murmurs, the words thick with emotion.

"Ah, but nothing in life is free, my young friend," Sebastian says, holding up a hand to stop him. "The price for such a transformation is steep. I require your payment in cold, hard cash."

Elijah's stomach flips, but his desire is stronger than his doubt. He fumbles in his pocket and pulls out his wallet, counting the crumpled bills with trembling fingers. "How much?"

Sebastian names a sum that seems exorbitant, but to Elijah, it's a price he's willing to pay for the body of his dreams. He hands over the money without hesitation, his eyes never leaving the potion. The wizard takes the cash, his grin widening as he counts the bills. "Ah, the currency of desperation," he says, tucking the money into a velvet pouch at his side.

Elijah pockets the bottle, his heart racing. He thanks Sebastian and practically sprints out of the tent, the sound of the carnival fading behind him as he makes his way home. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more exhilarating than the last. He can't wait to be alone in his room, to drink the potion and finally become the man he's always envied.

===

Once home, he slips into the kitchen, his eyes immediately drawn to the refrigerator. He opens the door and glances around, ensuring that James is nowhere in sight. The milk carton is exactly where he left it that morning, almost empty but with enough room for the potion. He opens the bottle and carefully pours the swirling white liquid into the remaining milk, watching as the two blend together. The potion's glow dims slightly as it mixes with the milk, but the energy it radiates is undeniable.

Elijah's heart races as he seals the carton and puts it back in the fridge. He glances at the clock; it's almost dinner time. He needs to get cleaned up and pretend that it's just another ordinary evening. With a deep breath, he heads to the bathroom, the bottle now a distant memory in the trash. The hot water of the shower cascades over his body, washing away the sticky sweat from his journey. The scent of the potion lingers on his fingertips, a tantalizing promise of what's to come.

James, on the other hand, is in the throes of a marathon cleaning session. The weekend has arrived, and he's determined to get the house in tip-top shape. He's scrubbed, dusted, and vacuumed every nook and cranny. His eyes are red from the dust, and his throat is parched.

He stumbles into the kitchen, his shirt sticking to his sweaty back. The fridge is a beacon of cold relief, and without thinking twice, he opens the door and grabs the milk carton.

James tilts his head back, the cold liquid cascading down his throat, quenching the fire that burns from his exertion. He pauses, his taste buds catching a hint of something peculiar, something different from the usual blandness of the milk. But thirst is a powerful motivator, and he dismisses the thought, chalking it up to the heat of the day playing tricks on his senses.

As he returns the carton to the refrigerator, the cold air hits his bare chest, causing his nipples to pebble. The room spins for a brief moment, and he sways on his feet, catching himself before he topples over. He chuckles at his own clumsiness and wipes the bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The carton feels heavier than before, the remaining 1/5 of the contents sloshing around like a silent taunt.

James stumbles towards his bedroom, his legs feeling like jelly. He's not sure what's happening to him, but the sensation is unlike anything he's ever felt. The warmth spreads from his core, radiating outward, enveloping his entire body in a gentle heat that's both comforting and disconcerting.

Suddenly, his legs seem to come alive, swelling and stretching before his very eyes. His feet feel massive, the skin taut and unyielding as his calves balloon to almost comical proportions. His blue pants are now nothing but shreds of fabric, clinging to his rapidly growing limbs. He looks down in shock, watching as his legs morph into powerful, muscular pillars of strength that resemble nothing of his former self.

James' hand fumbles to his crotch, feeling the fabric of his underwear strain against his growing cock. He gasps as it swells, the pressure building until the waistband snaps, the briefs falling away to reveal his new, massive erection. It stands tall and proud, thick veins pulsing with the potion's power. His testicles, now heavy and full, hang low between his legs. He can't help but touch himself, the sensation overwhelming. His hand wraps around his shaft, and he groans in pleasure as he feels his body respond to his own touch.

The transformation isn't finished yet. James' torso starts to expand, his chest puffing out as if inflated by an invisible pump. His ribcage widens, and the skin stretches taut over the burgeoning muscles beneath. The white sando he's wearing strains to contain his newfound bulk, the fabric stretching until it finally gives way with a resounding rip. His abs, once a sad six-pack, now form a perfect 10-pack, each muscle clearly defined and rippling with power. His pectorals balloon outward, pressing against his skin. His back muscles spasm, the tendons standing out in stark relief as they swell with newfound power. His shoulders broaden, making him seem even more Herculean.

As his arms begin to grow, James can feel the potion coursing through his veins, a tingling sensation that's both exhilarating and terrifying. The muscles in his biceps and triceps swell, bulging with newfound strength. His forearms thicken, the veins becoming more prominent as his hands grow to match his new frame. His fingers elongate and thicken, each digit now a testament to the power within him. His newfound biceps and triceps stand out like rounded boulders, begging to be touched and admired.

The potion's effects soon reach his face, and James gasps as he feels the skin around his eyes tighten and the lines around his mouth fade away. His cheeks plump up, giving him the youthful glow of an 18-year-old. The stubble on his chin retreats, leaving behind smooth, hairless skin that seems to glow with vitality. He runs his hand over his face, the touch of his fingers alien on the youthful contours. His eyes widen with shock as he looks in the mirror, seeing the reflection of a man who could be his own son. The only hint of his true age is the hint of curiosity and fear in his gaze.

James' body is now a masterpiece of masculine beauty, and he can't resist the urge to explore it further. He starts jerking his huge cock, the motion slow and deliberate. The feeling is unlike anything he's ever experienced, the potion amplifying every sensation. The veins bulge and pulse as he works his shaft, his moans growing louder with each stroke. His balls are heavy with cum, and the anticipation of release is almost unbearable. His hand is a blur, moving up and down with a mind of its own, driven by a primal need that's been unlocked within him.

But as he tries to think of the women he's been with, their faces and bodies failing to arouse him. His mind is a blank canvas, until images of muscular men start to flood his thoughts, their sculpted forms and piercing gazes igniting a fire deep in his soul. He tries to push them away, to focus on the familiar, but the potion's power is too strong. His hand moves faster, his strokes more urgent, as he imagines the touch of those men's strong hands on his body, their lips on his, their cocks inside him. The very thought sends a shockwave of pleasure through him, and he feels his body respond, his cock growing even harder in his grip.

Elijah finishes his shower and wraps a towel around his waist, the steam from the bathroom clinging to his skin. He walks into the kitchen, he opens the fridge, his hand reaching for the milk carton on autopilot, when something catches his eye. It's lighter than before, almost empty.

A muffled sound of pleasure reaches his ears, echoing through the hallway from his father's bedroom. Curiosity and confusion swirl within him as he tiptoes towards the door, straining to listen. The moaning grows louder, unmistakable in its urgency. It's definitely a man's voice, but it's not his father's. Elijah's heart races as he gently turns the doorknob and peeks in.

What greets him is a scene he could never have anticipated. There, in the place where James should be, lies a muscular 18-year-old boy, his skin glistening with sweat, his body a sculpted work of art that matches the men from Elijah's fantasies. The stranger's eyes are closed in ecstasy, his mouth open in a silent scream as his hand moves rapidly over his thick, erect cock. The sight is both mesmerizing and terrifying.

Elijah stumbles back, his mind racing. This can't be his father. The man before him is too young, too perfect. Panic sets in, and he retreats to his bedroom, his heart hammering in his chest.

He locks the door behind him, his thoughts spinning wildly. He must be dreaming, or maybe he's hallucinating. But the sound of footsteps, heavy and deliberate, echo through the house. They're real. The intruder is real.

Elijah's eyes dart around his room, searching for anything he can use as a weapon. His hand closes around a heavy book, but he knows it won't be enough. Then he remembers the potion. If Sebastian's claims are true, then he too can become a tower of strength. He rushes to the kitchen, his heart in his throat, and grabs the milk carton from the fridge.

The liquid inside is barely a quarter of its former volume. He quickly downs the remaining potion, the sweet taste of milk mixing with something else, something potent and powerful. He feels a warmth spread through him, starting in his stomach and moving outwards to his extremities. His body begins to tingle, and he knows that the transformation has begun.

Elijah retreats to his bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't lock the door. What if the intruder comes in? But the potion's magic is already working, and he's too focused on the changes happening to his body to worry about anything else. He sets the carton on his nightstand and watches in the mirror as his reflection starts to shift.

The towel around his waist feels tighter, and he looks down to see his cock growing, thick and hard. It's as if it has a mind of its own, reaching for the fabric as if to break free. He gasps, his hand moving to cover his mouth, as he watches his abs ripple and multiply, forming a perfect 10-pack that he's always dreamed of. His chest swells, filling out the space between his pecs and stomach, the muscles growing more defined with every second that passes. His skin stretches and tightens, the towel now a mere strip of material clinging to his burgeoning physique.

Elijah's legs, once skinny and unremarkable, now balloon with muscle, pushing him back onto the bed. He feels the mattress sink beneath the weight of his new body. His legs, now thick and powerful, are a work of art, each muscle clearly defined. He runs his hand over his newfound bulk, the sensation foreign and exhilarating. His calves bulge and his thighs thicken, the fabric of his towel giving way to reveal his massive cock and balls.

His arms follow suit, growing longer and more muscular. He watches, his eyes wide with wonder, as his biceps and triceps swell with power. His shoulders broaden, the towel slipping away to reveal a body that's no longer his own. His skin stretches taut over his newfound muscles, the veins standing out like rivers of life beneath the surface. His fingers elongate, the sensation strange and thrilling as he flexes his hands, feeling the strength that now courses through them.

The tingling sensation in Elijah's back intensifies, and he feels his spine stretch and realign. His shoulders pull back, and a defined V taper forms, highlighting the stark contrast between his narrow waist and broad back. He gasps as his ribcage expands, the sound echoing through the room. His face, once a reflection of his youthful curiosity, now takes on a more mature, angular structure, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline. His nose becomes more aquiline, and his lips fuller, framing a smile that promises both strength and sensuality.

But it's the sudden onslaught of testosterone that truly overwhelms him. His mind is bombarded by a deluge of sexual desire, so intense it's almost painful. Every nerve in his body is alive with new sensations, each one more electrifying than the last. The potion's power courses through his veins like molten lava, setting every inch of his skin alight with arousal. He can feel his cock growing even thicker, the weight of it heavy and demanding against his abs. His balls swell, the ache of impending release growing more insistent by the second.

James can't fight it anymore. He gives in to the potion's power, his hand moving faster and faster over his shaft. He feels the orgasm building, a pressure that threatens to consume him. His moans grow louder, and his hips buck involuntarily. His body is no longer his own, a marionette dancing on the strings of his newfound desires.

With a roar that echoes through the house, James climaxes. Cum spurts from his cock like a geyser, painting the walls and floor with his thick, white seed. The force of his release sends waves of pleasure throughout his transformed body, each muscle contracting in ecstasy. He collapses onto the bed, panting and spent.

Elijah, still in the throes of his own transformation, can't ignore the commotion. The intruder's moans of pleasure have turned to gasps for breath, and the smell of sex fills the air. He clenches the book tightly, steeling himself for what he might find. He opens his bedroom door and tiptoes down the hall, his newfound muscles flexing with each step.

The door to his father's room is ajar, and through the crack, he sees the figure of a man sitting on the edge of the bed. His heart stops as he recognizes James' bed, the bed he's slept in countless nights, now stained with a puddle of cum.

James sees the shadow in the doorway and turns, his eyes locking onto Elijah. For a moment, there's confusion in his gaze, as if he's seeing a ghost. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He tries to stand, his muscular legs protesting the sudden movement. "E…Elijah?" he finally manages, his voice a mix of wonder and fear.

Elijah's heart skips a beat. That's his father's voice, but the body? It's the stuff of his wildest dreams. "Dad?" he whispers, the word barely making it past the lump in his throat. The man before him looks up, and in those piercing blue eyes, Elijah sees the unmistakable spark of recognition.

James' eyes widen, taking in Elijah's new form. "What…what's happened to us?" he stammers, his voice a mix of shock and awe. The potion's power seems to hum in the air between them, a palpable force that neither can ignore.

Elijah swallows hard, his hand tightening on the book. "I… I don't know," he says, his voice shaking. "But… I think we should talk."

James nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the book in Elijah's hand before lifting to meet his son's eyes again. "Yeah," he says, his voice a gruff whisper. "Talk."

But talking seems to be the last thing on either of their minds as the potion's power surges through them, drawing them closer together. Before Elijah can say another word, James is on his feet, his massive frame towering over his son. The younger man's hand falls away from the book, his arm muscles flexing involuntarily as he watches his father approach.

Their eyes lock, the tension in the air thick with unspoken desires. Without warning, James leans in, his newfound strength and confidence driving him forward. His hand cups the back of Elijah's head, and their lips meet in a kiss that's equal parts tender and hungry. Elijah's eyes flutter closed, his body responding instinctively to the touch of the man he's always admired.

Their tongues dance together, exploring and tasting, as their hands roam over each other's transformed bodies. Elijah's strong, muscular arms wrap around James' broad back, feeling the heat of his newfound power. James' hands glide over Elijah's sculpted chest, the muscles flexing beneath his touch like living marble. Each caress sends sparks of pleasure through them, the potion's magic amplifying their senses to an unprecedented level.

Their kiss deepens, growing more urgent as the desire between them builds. Elijah can feel James' cock, now fully engorged and heavy, pressing against his stomach. It's a sensation that sends a jolt of excitement straight to his own groin, his cock pulsing with need.

James breaks the kiss, his eyes blazing with passion. He gently pushes Elijah back onto the bed, the mattress groaning beneath their combined weight. His hands are everywhere, exploring every inch of his son's newfound muscles. He can't believe this is happening, but the potion's power is too strong to resist.

Elijah's body responds to James' touch, his cock standing at attention as his father's fingers trace a line down his chest and stomach. The anticipation is agonizing, a sweet torment that makes him ache for more. He watches, his breath hitching, as James' hand wraps around his shaft, the older man's grip firm and sure.

James's gaze never leaves Elijah's face, his eyes searching for any sign of fear or hesitation. But what he sees instead is a hunger that matches his own, a need that's been stoked by the potion and their shared transformation. With a gentle tug, he guides Elijah's cock to the side, exposing his puckered hole.

The tip of James's massive cock, now slick with precum, hovers at the entrance to Elijah's ass. Elijah feels a mix of terror and excitement as he prepares to accept his father in the most intimate way possible. The heat of James's shaft sends shivers down his spine, and he can't help but arch his back, offering himself up.

With a low growl, James lines himself up and pushes in, the potion's magic allowing him to breach Elijah's tight hole with surprising ease. Elijah gasps as he's filled to the brim, his body stretching to accommodate his father's girth. James takes a moment to savor the feeling before pulling almost all the way out, only to slam back in, his balls slapping against Elijah's ass with a wet smack.

Their bodies move in a rhythmic dance of passion, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through Elijah, his moans growing louder as James hits all the right spots. James' muscles flex and bulge with every movement, the potion's power evident in every powerful thrust. Elijah can feel his father's strength, the weight of his new body pressing him into the mattress.

Their breaths mingle, both men lost in the moment, the only sounds the grunts and gasps of their shared passion. James' hand wraps around Elijah's cock, the friction of his palm against the sensitive skin driving him closer and closer to the edge. Elijah's eyes roll back in his head, his hips bucking up to meet every thrust. The potion's power is a drug, a heady mix of arousal and confusion that only seems to make the sensations more intense.

James feels it building within him, the pressure in his balls reaching a fever pitch. He can't hold back any longer. With one final, powerful thrust, he lets out a roar that shakes the room, his cock pulsing as he empties himself inside Elijah. The warmth and wetness of his cum fills the space between them, a testament to the bond that's been forged in the crucible of the potion's magic.

At the same moment, Elijah's body tenses, his own orgasm ripping through him like a bolt of lightning. He cums in thick ropes, the sensation so intense that his vision blurs. The potion has not only transformed their bodies but also their very beings, stripping away any remaining barriers between them.

As the aftershocks of pleasure begin to fade, the reality of what they've just done sets in. James pulls out slowly, his cock still half-hard, and they both lay there, panting and staring at the ceiling. The silence is deafening, the weight of their actions pressing down on them like a heavy blanket.

Elijah is the first to speak, his voice a soft whisper. "Dad, what have we done?" The tremble in his tone betrays his fear and confusion.

James turns to look at his son, his new muscular body a stark contrast to the man Elijah has known all his life. "I don't know," he admits, his voice gruff with emotion. "But it's what the potion did to us."

Elijah nods, his own muscles still quivering from the intense pleasure of their union. They need to clean up, to process what's happened.

He pushes himself up from the bed, his body feeling both new and unfamiliar. He walks to his father's dresser, his muscular legs moving with a newfound grace. He opens the drawer and pulls out a pair of black shorts, feeling the soft fabric in his hand. The sight of them sends a thrill through his body, a symbol of the power and masculinity he's always envied in the men he desires. He steps into them, the shorts hugging his muscular thighs and accentuating his now prominent bulge.

James watches, his eyes taking in Elijah's new form, the potion-induced changes making it clear that his son is no longer a boy. The white shorts Elijah throws to him seem to glow in the dim light of the room, a stark contrast to the black Elijah has chosen. He sluggishly rises, his legs feeling like they're made of lead. He pulls the shorts on, the fabric stretching to cover his own massive thighs and the heavy weight of his cum-covered cock. The shorts fit surprisingly well, hugging his new body in a way that makes him feel both exposed and powerful.

"We need to talk," James says, his voice still unsteady. "We can't just…go on like this."

Elijah nods, his heart racing as he looks at his father's transformed body. "I know," he whispers. "What do we do?"

James takes a deep breath, his mind racing. "We can't tell anyone," he says, his voice firm. "We'll say I'm your cousin."

Elijah nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Okay, from now on, you're Joe."

"Joe," James repeats, testing out the name that now fits the youthful, muscular form he finds himself in. The lie feels strange on his tongue, but he knows it's a necessary one.

"Elijah, your dad had to leave for an overseas job," Joe says, the words feeling more real with each passing second. "We're all alone in this house now."

Elijah nods, the lie a protective shield around their new reality. "Yeah," he murmurs, his eyes still glued to his father's transformed body. "It's just you and me."

Their smiles are tentative, a blend of relief and the beginnings of excitement. They're in this together, two men who share more than just a surname. Joe runs a hand over his new abs, feeling the ridges and valleys of muscle that now define his physique. Elijah's gaze follows the movement, his own smile growing a little bolder.

[st4rreid]

MDNI

CW: smut, virginity loss (reader), fauxcest, soft dom, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), drug use, alcohol, fingering, swearing, mostly smut barely plot

AN: i was too lazy to proofread but, i did put in effort to make it look pretty :)

Hanging out with Stepbro!Sam again because your parents thinks it’ll keep him out of trouble. He knows you’ll tell them everything so he has to be on his best behavior or get grounded.

Tonight he’s reluctantly taking you to a party, and he hates the idea of his little sis stopping his fun.

When you get there you immediately decide this isn’t your scene; people making out, the smell of weed and the loud music. It totally isn’t your thing.

You’ve been mindlessly swiping through your socials as to not feel so out of place, when he snatches your phone instead replacing it with a beer.

“Don’t you wanna at least try and have fun” he scoffs, tucking your phone into his back pocket.

You try to refuse, reminding both yourself and him that you’ll be grounded if you get caught drinking, but your protests are silenced when he lifts the cup up to your lips and forces you to take a big gulp.

You screw your face up “God Sam, tastes horrible.” but it only encourages him to make you drink more.

Sam disappears for a moment, before returning with an already lit joint. taking a deep inhale before blowing the smoke into your face. You cough disgusted by the thick smell. “Can’t snitch on me for smoking anymore, not when you smell like it too.” he smirks while studying your curious gaze.

“Wanna try?” You attempt to refuse but he’s already pressing it up to your lips, stroking the back of your head with his other hand.

You take a big deep inhale trying to mimic the way Sam had done it. Unfortunately for you it doesn’t go as well and you splutter up a chesty cough.

“Oh, poor baby” he coos, debating if it was the pet name he used or the weed that has you blushing like an idiot.

“Look at you, misbehaving. Can’t tell on me anymore, can you?” he winks before pressing the joint back to your lips “again.”

As the night goes on you feel increasingly confident with Sam protectively guiding you through the house with his hands steadily placed on your hips.

“I’m really tired Sam, we should go home” you slur while making dizzy eye contact with him.

“m’kay princess, let’s go” he’s says, taking your hand.

The drive home was a blur, sat in the passenger seat giggling as you held your fingers out the slight crack in the window.

“Let’s get you to bed, sweetheart” he states before taking you inside and up the stairs.

He steps inside your bedroom with you and you mumble something about wanting to get undressed and that he should go, but he ignores it, undoing the zip at the back of your dress and slowly pressing chaste kisses onto your pulse point.

“Sammy, what’re you doing?”

“getting you ready for bed princess” he states plainly, before slipping your dress off you leaving you in just your pretty lace set.

He continues to kiss down your neck and shoulder pushing you forwards, till your knees meet the edge of your frilly bed. He spins you round, eyeing the front of your bare body and your slightly timid expression.

“We shouldn’t do this Sam”

“shh, you know i’m just looking after you.” he answers, hands placed on your hips drawing small circles with his thumbs onto your stomach.

You move into his touch, reluctantly giving into what he wants. He dips his head, allowing his lips to be level with yours breathing against them before pressing them onto you. His kisses are wet and sloppy, swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, politely asking for entry.

Too jaded for you to notice. He asks verbally “open” to which this time you comply. His tongue wraps around yours gently massaging.

He pulls away laying you down on top of your pretty floral bedsheets adorned with various stuffed animals and pillows and removing his shirt.

“Are you still a virgin?” he questions and you nod frantically. The idea of it amuses him. His perfect lil sis, that he wants to corrupt so bad.

Sam brings his thumb to the wet spot on your panties, “are you sure darling” he chuckles “you’re soaked.”

He hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you into the bulge in his pants, encouraging you to let out a slight whimper.

He drops to his knees, not breaking eye contact with your panties. Leaning in he presses a sloppy kiss onto your mound. “gonna take these panties off ok?”. you reply with a nod, head too fuzzy to let any real words come out.

He bundles the panties into his pocket before returning his gaze to your slick. He rests the side of his face on your thigh inches away, while bringing his finger up to run up to your slit. “ever been fingered baby?” he groans while kissing the soft skin of your thighs.

You crane your neck to look at him “m’never!” you whine, clenching around nothing begging to be filled. With the admission he plunges his finger into you, and you respond by grabbing his hair and tugging hard. “shhh, you’re ok my love” he coos and your walls flutter around him, needy for more. He obliges working you open with a second finger, this time placing wet sloppy kisses on your pulsing clit.

You muffle your moans with your fist, remembering not to be too loud. You can feel him let out a breathy laugh against you. “you’re taking me so well princess, are you sure you’re a virgin?” He knows you most definitely are, Sam just loves to see you get all flustered and defensive.

“your cunts so sweet, here come taste it” he rises up from his kneeling position, smiling to himself with how already fucked out you look.

He kisses you, this time more deep and aggressive making a point to bite down on your lip opening your mouth wide enough to spit into it.

“You’re so fucking well behaved for me, you know that right?” there’s almost a hint of aggression to his voice now, possessed by his need for you.

You’re too overwhelmed to speak, you have been since he first kissed you. all you can do is whimper at the way his bulge is tucked in between your heat, rutting himself into you.

“You want me too fuck you baby?” he questions, smirking when you nod desperately.

“Ask for it.”

“p-please fuck me Sammy” you whine, barely comprehending what you’re asking him for.

He stands, quickly removing his belt, followed by his jeans and boxers. His thick erection slaps against his lower stomach. It’s big you think, or at least bigger than you thought it would be. Tip blushed and leaky precum, and the base decorated by dark trimmed hair.

He returns to his previous position, arms bracing himself either side of your head. Length pressing against your slick cunt.

“You ready baby?” he questions, almost amused by your wanting expression.

“Just be gentle” you mutter, he smirks at this as if he knows something you don’t.

Almost painfully slow he nudged into you inch by inch, it’s a dull, burning kind of pain. But nothing that isn’t bearable. He stops when he’s halfway inside you- not that you know that, to you, you’re stuffed to the brim.

He holds himself there for a minute, leaning down to press a kiss onto your forehead.

“Doing so so well my love.” he looks almost pained, as if he was the one currently getting impaled.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, want me to move?” he doesn’t wait for your response only groaning when he drops his hips, sliding fully into you.

Tears start to well as sam starts to move, he kisses you hoping it would provide an ample distraction to how you’re puffy cunt is bullied by his thick cock.

“my little good girl takin’ me so so well aren’t you” he looks down at you grinning at the way your little pupils have dilated, and how your swollen lips tremble with every thrust.

The feeling of him inside you is becoming more and more pleasurable, Sam senses it too, speeding up his thrusts. There’s a feeling building up in your lower tummy and he can tell, bring his hand down to tease your little nub, as you tangle your hands into his dyed hair.

“You gonna let go on my cock baby? C‘mon do it, cum for me” his verbal affirmation was enough, your heart raced and your mind went fuzzy as you had your very first orgasm on your stepbrothers cock.

The tight grip of your cunt along with the sensation of you tugging on his hair sent sam into overdrive, his thrusts growing messy and desperate. He let out a final grunt before cumming inside of you, leaving you even more full than you thought possible.

He collapsed onto you, his chin in the crook between your neck and shoulder. Both of you attempting to regulate your breathing.

He rose onto his forearms before pressing a wet kiss onto your lips. “Not so much of a good girl shoes now, huh?”

[604to647]

Red Herring

3.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: You make Detective Rockford a Halloween costume.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please).  Established relationship, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous), lingerie, semi-public sex, desk sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected PiV, bad puns, half-assed costumes.

A/N: Since The Rockford Portfolio was born from @mermaidgirl30’s Ocean Challenge this summer, I thought it was only fitting to write the same couple for Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge (as always though, the stories in the collection can be read standalone ☺️)! Tim's hatred of Halloween is heavily influenced by Amy Santiago from Brooklyn 99 🤭🤭 Happy Halloween and spooky season everyone!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘 / Series Masterlist

Tim was right.  Halloween at a police precinct is a mess.

The streets outside are absolute mayhem, crawling with costumed Halloween revelers stumbling and celebrating in various states of undress and inebriation.  No one seems to care that they’re causing a ruckus right outside of a building full of cops.  Even walking up the stairs to the main doors, you had found yourself side stepping at least two incidents of vomit, and you still feel a little worried about leaving the trio of drunk Power Puff girls on the bench outside even though they had giggled that they were fine when you asked.  There’s no safer place for them to be, you suppose.

The inside of the precinct is no less chaotic than it is outside.  It’s exactly as Tim had described.  You chuckle to yourself as you pass a couple of patrolmen headed out as Jedi Knights and think back to your conversation earlier this month when Tim told you he would be working on Halloween.

Curled up in Tim’s lap, you’re scrolling through TikTok as he watches some police procedural on the TV that he keeps grumbling at when you come across a few spoopy videos, “Do you think you might want to do a couples costume for Halloween, Detective?”

Tim actually grimaces.  He hates Halloween with a passion, “Oh Shutterbug, I’m so sorry – I have to work Halloween.  I work every Halloween.”

“Every Halloween?”

“Yeah - ugh. Halloween is honestly such a gong show.  People think costumes make them invincible for some reason,” he closes his eyes and scowls at the memory of Halloweens past.  “Every patrolman works overtime and is out on the streets breaking up fights, putting people in the drunk tank, getting drunk drivers off the streets.”

He’s not done; Tim brings his paw of a hand to his face and massages it in irritation, “The entire detective squad comes in to help process every idiot that’s brought in: DWI.  Underage Drinking.  Disorderly Conduct.  Assault.  Vandalism.  Trespassing.  Theft.  You name it, gorgeous.  Halloween is a fucking mess.”

You chuckle a little, you’re not used to seeing your normally unflappable detective so out of sorts, nevermind at the mere thought of a children’s celebration.

“Does everyone hate Halloween like you?”

Tim cracks a smile at this, “No one hates things the way I hate things.”  This has you giggling – Tim can be terribly grumpy.  “I guess not everyone.  The precinct gets decorated and there is a costume contest.”

“Oh!” You perk up at this, “And they arrest people in costume?”

“Might as well,” Tim’s face screws up in annoyance again, “It’s not like anyone respects the uniform on Halloween.  You have better luck getting compliance as Godzilla.”

For a second, you imagine Tim sulking behind his desk, filling out public intoxication reports dressed as Batman and you have to stifle a snort of laughter, “But not you though?  You don’t dress up?”

“Nope.”

“What’s the costume contest prize?” your eyes twinkle.

“No, nope,” Tim kisses the nose that you’ve scrunched up in mischief, “What do you plan on doing for Halloween, Shutterbug?”

You look thoughtful, the truth is you’re not really up for anything too exciting this year, “I’m probably going to volunteer at the library to give out candy, then I told the girls I’d meet up with them at a pub for some food and drinks.  Then they’ll head over to a bar or club or something that’s hosting a Halloween party and I don’t really want to do that.  Maybe I could come hang out with you?”

“Of course you can, baby.  But just be prepared, it’s going to be messy.”

The bullpen is loud – every desk is occupied by a dog tired, costumed detective taking down statements, yelling into their phone, or typing aggressively away on their computer – some of them doing all three.  The holding cell is overflowing, and the occupants are either wildly indignant about their detainment or completely unphased and appear to be continuing whatever reveries that had brought them in from behind bars.  There is no in between.

The commotion is so much more unruly than it usually is; it might be unsettling, except for how comical it is to see Tim’s colleagues in various costumes doing their very serious jobs. At a quick glance you see: a bumblebee, a Pikachu, two pirates, an Aquaman, and three Howls from Howl’s Moving Castle.

The juxtaposition of these outfits to the cacophony in the room is hilarious.  You spot and wave to Tim’s partner, Detective Arnold Calloway, who’s dressed as Elvis on your way to Tim’s office.

Tim’s door is open but before you announce yourself, you take a moment to ogle your handsome boyfriend as he types, brows furrowed in concentration at his computer.  He’s not in costume but you can’t complain – Tim's usual crisp white dress shirt stretches taut across his broad frame, his hunched shoulders restrained slightly by the unforgiving leather of his gun holster. His tie is loose but it’s the only thing that’s loose - Tim’s rolled up shirt sleeves strain to contain his beefy arms, and from where you stand, you can see his exposed forearms flex tightly with every furious punch to the keys on his keyboard.  Even without a costume, Tim Rockford looks like a superhero.

“Happy Halloween, Detective.”

The smile that breaks across Tim’s face when he looks up and sees you is nothing short of breathtaking, it sends a blooming warmth through your chest that quickly winds its way down between your legs.

“Happy Halloween, Shutterbug.  How’s your night going so far?”

“Pretty fun!  The library had so many kids coming in – I gave out so much candy!  And dinner was good – the girls say hi.  What about you, baby?”  You walk around Tim’s desk and lean down to place a sweet kiss to his lips before massaging his weary shoulders.

Tim sighs, “As good as can be expected for this godforsaken holiday.  I’ve been to the hospital for interviews twice, and now I’m processing a mountain of misdemeanors.”

You ghost your lips behind Tim’s ear and smile when the little puff of air you blow makes him groan.  Planting chaste kisses to the back of his neck as you continue kneading the hard muscles of his back, you chirp mischievously, “I have something that could make your evening more fun, Detective.”

Tim leans back and spins his chair around to face you, smirking, “Oh yeah?  What’s that, Shutterbug?”

Chuckling, you reach into your purse and take out a headband with two springs coming out the top like antennae and hold it out to Tim.

“What’s this?”

You point to the tops of the springs: on one you’ve glued an empty packet of Trident gum, and to the other is affixed a small dog toy in the shape of a shoe that you had found at the dollar store.  Giggling, you place the headband over Tim’s head and tuck the ends behind his ears, “It’s your costume, Tim.  You’re a gumshoe.”

Tim groans and drops his face into his palm.  The resulting bounce of the little objects over his head makes you giggle even harder, “See?  You were already dressed up and you didn’t even know it.”  You wave you hand over Tim’s body.

Detective Rockford peeks through his fingers and when he sees your impish grin and how much joy your mischief is bringing you, he can’t help but grin himself, “Alright, gorgeous.  Where’s your costume, then?”

Delighted at how easily Tim’s given in to your silliness, you reach back into your purse and pull out your own headband – a red one with similar antennae to match his black, but at the end of each of your springs is a little plastic fish, swaying and jiggling erratically as you slip the band onto you head and jovially announce, “A red herring for my dashing gumshoe to chase!"

Tim lets out a low gruff of a laugh, one that crinkles the eyes that are already always soft for you, his smile as relaxed as his shoulders now are, “Where’s the rest of your costume?  Shouldn’t you be wearing red?”  He teasingly does the same waving motion you did to him earlier over your closed trench coat jacket.

If possible, your smile gets even wider when you reply, “I am!  You want me to show you?”

“Sure, baby.”  To Tim’s surprise, instead of opening your jacket, you coyly saunter over to his office door, closing then locking it.  On your way back to him, you start to undo the knot of your jacket belt, letting the lapels of your jacket fall open to reveal the sexist red lace lingerie set Tim’s ever seen in his life.  As you slide between Tim and his desk, perching gingerly on the edge, you snicker at your boyfriend’s drooling expression. 

“Trick or Treat, Detective Rockford?” you flirt, fingers hooked under the warm leather straps of Tim’s gun holster, lightly tugging to beckon him closer.  He obeys.

Hypnotized, Tim slowly brushes his fingers over the frill of the delicate fabric that lays tantalizingly over your delicious curves – leaving goosebumps on your supple skin everywhere his hands graze, and even places they don’t.  He unwittingly licks his lips at your pert nipples, already at attention and tenting the crimson red floral lace that hug your tits so prettily – Tim can’t help himself; leaning forward in his chair, he takes one in his mouth.

The soft gasp that you let escape exhales to a throaty groan as you feel Tim’s hands travel down your body; they come to a momentary rest at your hips - tugging teasingly at the ruffled skirt of the garter belt before trailing down the straps.  As he rubs the bands that loop around your mid thighs between his thick fingers, Tim chuckles into your chest, “Is that what you wore at the library, baby?”

You giggle uncontrollably and shake your head, little fish above your head dancing wildly on their springs as you push back a little to show Tim how you’re still wearing your modest, library appropriate red dress, but that it’s been unbuttoned and left open under your trench coat.  Eyebrow cocked in amusement, Tim hooks his fingers into and pulls down the cups of your bra before diving back in, and you think you hear him mumble something like Dirty girl, through his mouthful of your breasts.

“You never answered my question – trick or treat, Detective Rockford?”

With some reluctance, Tim parts from the softness of your tits to lean back in his chair, ogling your near naked form shamelessly while he pretends to contemplate his response.  Finally, he scootches his chair forward and cups one of his powerful hands beneath your boobs and presses so that you lean back – his other pries open your legs so you can accommodate the expansive width of his shoulders.

“I think you already chose ‘treat’ for me, Shutterbug.”

Your girlish squeal as Tim lays a sweet kiss to your clit through the thin fabric of your panties is louder than you’d like and you quickly cover your mouth with a hand in order to muffle it.  As Detective Rockford open mouth kisses your panty clad cunt, your eyes roll to the back of your head and the flatness of your palm becomes insufficient to contain your escalating moans – when Tim pulls the gusset of your underwear to the side, the snap of cool air hitting the wetness of your exposed core pulls a cry from your throat that can only be stifled by biting down on the heel of your thumb.

The sting from your teeth causes you to buck into Tim’s face and from that moment forth, there’s no holding back his animalistic lust.  Tim licks fat stripe after fat stripe through your folds to the tip of your hardened nub – every new path made by his tongue dug deep and true.  Your pooled arousal is collected and swirled over your sweetest dips and waves, then sucked and savoured in his mouth like his favourite whiskey.  It might actually be.  Tim’s own groans and growls at the sweetness of your taste vibrate right into your cunt and straight to the tightening band beneath your belly.

Eyes taking in the lascivious sight above him, Tim’s dick strains painfully in his pants: his pretty girl is laid near bare and gorgeous, tits bouncing while her face screws up in pleasure, mouth stuffed with her own fist. You're a true heaven that contrasts starkly to the hell of mundane paperwork that Tim thought would make up the bulk of his Halloween shift, still sitting next to you on the very same desk you’re currently writhing on.

With a feral grunt, Tim tongue fucks your slit while his nose and the elastic hem of your pulled back panties work your slippery clit in tandem.  He builds and builds until he knows you can’t take anymore, then pushes you over the edge with the tenor of his baritone command to come.

You crest with a wild cry that’s barely contained by your now aching and wet hand, drool running down your wrist as your body shudders with wave after wave of indescribable pleasure.   

Only when he feels your lithe body settle does Tim rise to his feet and undo his belt.  Lips and facial scruff still shiny with your release, he grins a wolfish grin, “Now it’s time for 'trick', gorgeous.”

Kissing you roughly, Tim busies himself with pulling out his leaking cock as you return his affections just as fiercely, spurned on by the taste of you in your own mouth.  He pulls back to clean his face with the back of his arm, and you whimper when you unsuccessfully chase after his lips.

“No need to be greedy, Shutterbug. Your Detective is going to fuck you now,” smirks Tim, notching himself at your entrance and sliding in with ease.

The heft of him still leaves you breathless every time.  When you look up at Tim, you find his face relaxed in a look of reverence that tells you he feels the same about the welcome of your warm walls.

“Going to fuck you hard and fast, 'kay baby?  Don’t have much time.  Can’t have anyone coming in and seeing my pretty girl split on my cock” Tim’s mouth slots over yours and he drinks in your moans at his dirty promise.  One of Tim’s meaty hands grips your hip so hard you know he’ll leave a bruising imprint of his desire for you to find tomorrow, the other grabs your lacy garter belt like a cowboy would the reins of his horse; as he starts to ride you, every punishing drive of Tim’s cock leaves you marveling that the delicate fabric doesn’t rip to shreds under his efforts.

“Fuck me, Detective,” you breath, nipping and sucking along Tim’s strong jaw to behind his earlobe where he’s most sensitive.  Sticking out your tongue to lick down the column of Tim’s throat, your mouth jolts against Tim’s bobbing Adam’s apple as he continues to thrust into you like a man possessed.  The scrape of your teeth and the soothing lave of you tongue over the responsive skin at the base of his neck, cause Tim to groan, low and throaty.  When your fingers thread through his soft curls and yank down so to expose more of his neck to your sinful mouth, he retaliates by reaching for your breasts, roughly kneading and worshiping before directing his attention to your nipples.

Without letting up on your sopping hole, Tim rolls and pinches, pulls and tweaks your pert peaks, all while gritting out dirty words of praise:

Pretty thing came to a police precinct tonight to get fucked, didn’t she?

So fucking hot in your little outfit, gorgeous just for me.

This pussy's made my whole fucking night, baby.

You can only hope that your near pornographic wails are adequately buffered by the thickness of Tim’s chest, as you bury your face against the wall of him.  The combination of your tight and slick cunt and the added friction of your panties, now soaked with your cream and pressed taut against his cock, has Tim on the expressway; when his pace starts to grow frantic, he leaves your perfect tits to press his thumb down on your clit.

“Oh fuck, Tim!  Fuck, I’m going to c-” Tim’s solid and comforting circles on your crying nub are enough to send you over the edge again.  Your heaving breaths against his neck and the fluttering of your walls as they clamp down on his length send Tim barreling to join you soon after.

Hands still in Tim’s hair, you card through his dampened waves as the two of you rest forehead-to-forehead, exchanging tender butterfly kisses and soft words of devotion during the comedown from your twin highs.

Knock, knock.

“Rockford.”  It’s Arnie.

Tim slips out of you and tucks himself back in before walking to his door, waiting with his hand on the handle to make sure you’ve had time to right and button up your dress before he opens the door to see what his partner wants.

“Rockford, do you have that repor- What’s that?” Detective Arnold Calloway’s eyes widen and he points to the still bobbling springs on the headband that Tim never took off his head.

Tim has no words.

Your hand flies to your mouth and you barely contain the hysterical giggle that threatens to escape.  Arnie looks past Tim right at you, and his face breaks out in the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen.  His eyes dance with mirth and you can’t help but blurt out the answer to his unspoken question, “He’s a gumshoe!!!”  The two of you shriek in laughter as Tim stands stiffly, eyes closed in disbelief, willing himself to disappear. 

You bound up to the door and loop one arm around Tim’s waist, the other you arch to point to your own headband, beaming, “I’m the red herring in his case!”

Arnie nearly drops the files in his arms to hold his stomach as he cackles, “Perfect costumes!  Never thought I’d see the day when Rockford dressed up for Halloween!  Forget the report – I need a picture.”

“No pictures,” Tim practically bellows as he storms back to his desk in a huff, headband adornments swinging wildly.

Winking at Detective Calloway, you whisper, “I’ll get a picture,” before you walk back into Tim’s office and settle in on the couch.  Tucking your legs under your bum, you pull out the book you checked out of the library earlier before looking up to your sweet boyfriend who's gone back to typing his reports as if he wasn't just ravaging you on that same desk minutes earlier, “Love you, Detective Rockford.”

Tim glances up at the sweet angel who willingly keeps him company on this horrid night and makes it decidedly less horrid; giving you a soft smile, he winks, “Love you more, Shutterbug.”

The Monday following Halloween, you’re putting the finishing touches on dinner when Tim comes home, carrying a large box that he deposits on the kitchen counter with a look of pride and amusement.

“What’s this?” you ask with curiosity, giving Tim a deep welcome home kiss before opening the package to discover a case of wine.

To your gleeful howl of laughter, Tim tells you that he won the precinct Halloween costume contest this year. 

You’re looking through the box, picking up the bottles and reading the labels.  Malbec.  Gamay. Beaujolais.  Barbarossa.  You take out a bottle of Nebbiolo that you think might work with dinner and exclaim in delight, “Congratulations, Detective!  This is a great prize!”

Tim sweeps you into his arms and presses his lips to your pretty pout for a searing kiss, murmuring, “I got a better one right here.”

Visual aids for this instalment:

[acapelladitty]

`♡° kinktober 2024! ---

☆ kink: costume sex

☆ pairing: Year One Scarecrow/Reader

☆ summary: Arriving at a Halloween party to score some drugs for his experiments, Jonathan Crane finds himself in quite the compromising position as he's pulled into a supply closet.

kinktober '24 ☆ main masterlist ☆ ao3

Surveying the gaggle of college students as they drunkenly stumbled around in costumes which bordered on utterly indecent made Crane appreciate that his own college days were much less degrading as he had concentrated his focus on his many studies and interests. The sorority housing was not too dire, a direct yearly contribution from the Wayne Foundation ensuring cheap accommodation for prospective students as they maintained their studies.

It was a luxury he himself was never afforded and one which sparked only a little resentment as he pulled the cheap burlap mask which covered most of his features tighter to his face and slipped within the front door.

Necessity had forced him here, forced him into an illicit meeting with a known drug dealer who lived on campus in order to score some ecstasy for one of his private experiments. The boy in question was not one of his own students but he had an awareness of him from complaints which others had made in their shared staff room.

He had used an alias, of course. He had chosen a name designed to ensure that the young man would never know that he was selling drugs to one of the strictest professors on campus and the additional use of Halloween night as a meet time had been necessary to provide him with an alibi for hiding his identity through the use of a costume.

A cheap and simple Scarecrow costume, purchased from a local store.

The irony was not lost on him.

“Hey! C’mere? I need help.”

As far as his dealings went, his exchange with the boy was painless and he emerged from the upper bedroom with his secured ecstasy in less then two minutes. All that remained was to weave past the throngs of drunkards and then he would be free to return to his office and pick up some last minute papers to take home to his apartment.

His musings were cut short as he found his path blocked by a young woman, her hands splayed wide on her hips to prevent him from walking around her.

Her loud voice attracting the attention of several partygoers, Crane scowled beneath his mask as he found himself forced into helping her to avoid further attention. She was dressed as a devil; the majority of her costume being limited to a sheer and very short red gown which was hemmed with cheap feathers. Red thigh-high tights and devil horns completed the ensemble and, despite himself, Crane felt a twinge of arousal at her state of dress.

A fuller figure than many of the other girls who flittered about in various states of undress, her ample chest filled the gown beautifully and he couldn’t help but glance down at it, the skin there looking soft and warm to the touch.

Grabbing at his hand, he allowed her to lead him through the corridor until they reached a door. Pushing it open, she revealed a fairly small laundry closet which housed two sets of shelves which were filled with various towels and replacement beddings – the space between the shelves only enough to house maybe two people as they folded and ordered the items within.

Only now truly realising the situation he had allowed himself to be placed in as her intentions hit him like a truck, Jonathan felt a swell of panic in his chest – the feeling so unfamiliar that it also sparked cold embarrassment that he was thankful for his mask to hide it away.

Shutting the door behind them quietly as Jonathan gazed at the bare, hanging lightbulb which sat perfectly at his eye level, the girl giggled quietly as she turned in place with her back to the door.

“You’re very tall. I like that,” she muttered, reaching her hand out to place it on his chest and glance up at him with fluttering eyelashes.

“I am.” Jonathan replied, a little pathetically as his panicking mind couldn’t think of something more interesting to say. Glancing at the door behind her, he could see his escape as clear as day and the ecstasy which sat in his back pocket felt as though it was burning against his skin as he plotted out how to leave without drawing more attention to himself.

“I really like that. When I saw you walking past in this silly costume I couldn’t help but want to drag you away and see if it’s true what they say about tall guys.”

Bold as brass, her fingers dropped to his thighs and massaged the fabric there – her chest jiggling with deliberate intent as she pawed at him.

Concealing his voice as best he could as he added an unfamiliar lilt to his words, Jonathan splayed his fingers on her upper chest as he ignored the definite twitch of his dick at her boldness and kept her at a safe distance.

“I am old enough to be your father.”

“Are you?” She purred, placing one of her hands atop his own as she stroked along his fingers, “That’s kinda hot, mystery man. Maybe you could show a poor little girl like me the ropes then, huh? You must have lots of experience.”

She couldn’t have been out of her early twenties, less than half of his age.

He was not a man of impulse.

He was a man of reason and careful consideration.

But as her other hand slipped higher to ghost along his half-hard cock with a firm determination, her expression wicked in its innocence as she glanced up at him and pressed her chest to his own, Jonathan supposed that a little holiday indulgence wouldn’t kill him.

Bolstered by his anonymity, Jonathan slipped his hands within the cups of her costume and pulled her tits free to hang in the warm air. She gasped at the feel of his cold fingers and responded immediately as her hands slipped higher to pull at the waistband of his slacks, unzipping them and pulling his cock free with a giggle.

“Wow, you really are older than me.”

Glancing down through the holes in his mask, a slight irritation at her words flushed through his chest and he responded by pushing at her shoulders roughly – forcing her to drop to her knees and work at his cock. A task which she took to with immediate enthusiasm as she wrapped her lips around his cockhead, her tongue warm and so deliciously wet that his hands gripped into a nearby shelf as he fought the urge to fuck himself into her mouth.

Jonathan groaned as he leaned against the shelf, enough to allow him to crane his neck down and watch her as she sucked him off. With one hand wrapped around his outer thigh to steady herself, her other hand had disappeared between her legs as she pleasured and prepped herself for his cock. A boldness which snatched the breath from his lungs as he pushed into her mouth and tried to steady his breathing.

“Do you want to fuck me?” She asked, her sweet voice a little hoarse from her previous partying.

Wordlessly, he pulled her to her feet and spun her in place, her tits bouncing at the swift movement as he pressed his body against her own. Her chest pushing into the nearby shelving unit, Jonathan slipped one hand beneath the hem of her ‘dress’ and groaned into her neck as his fingers quickly sank themselves into the wet warmth of her cunt.

She had prepped herself well, it seemed.

Panting and grinding her ass into his cock, the bold little devil that had ensnared him mewled something about being ready and Jonathan fisted his hand along his cock – feeling the drying saliva of her messy blowjob – as he lined himself up against her hole. The height difference was impressive and it forced his legs to spread a little wider than he was comfortable with to allow him to line up correctly before slamming his hips against her ass.

He greeted her with a quick, brutal intrusion and he growled as she buried her pleasurable scream into the flesh of her forearm – her cunt wrapping around his cock like a glove. Almost painfully tight, but so fucking good that he momentarily lost himself in just how nice she felt.

It was a mess of a fuck. The tiny closet leaving no room for anything outside of sloppy thrusts which she seems to appreciate as her theatrical grunts and moans spur him on to fuck her with a greater ferocity, the adrenaline of the encounter giving him a stamina that he didn’t want to waste.

She was just as enthusiastic in her movements; her plump body pushing back on him in such a way that he found himself having to slam one hand against the nearby door to steady himself as his other hand wrapped around her waist to pull her against him. Her nails dug into the back of his hand and he hissed as she pulled his hand free to instead drag it up to her chest – forcing him to delve his fingers within the cup of her gown and squeeze at her breast.

Her warmth and the way that her soft skin filled his hand made him groan and he picked up the pace of his sloppy thrusts as he adjusted his fingers enough to pinch at her hardened nubs. A move that made her keen out something messy as her walls squeezed his cock in kind.

His release caught him a little by surprise, the franticness of their movements making his balls tighten and his cock jerk in warning as he quickly pulled free of her cunt – instead plastering her ass with his release as he grunted like an animal and his knees shook dangerously. Groaning in disappointment, his little devil didn’t hesitate to grind her ass into his cock, encouraging him to keep going.

“I’m close, c’mon guy, just a little more-”

Catching his breath, Jonathan complied with her wishes and slipped his free hand up between her thighs as he jerkily shoved two fingers within her dripping cunt; his arm angled in such a way that he left his thumb free to press against her clit and get her to her own release. Again, given how wet her cunt already was, he wasn’t too surprised when her little moans increased in pitch and her slit ground hard against his hand as she came.

Not bothering to hide her whimpered cries, a slight worry entered Jonathan’s mind as he imagined some passerby overhearing her and so he tilted her body slightly further away from the door – allowing her to ride out her high on his hand as he fumbled with tucking away his own cock.

Both satisfied, they collectively took a moment to compose themselves as the scent of sex and cheap perfume hung heavy in the air between them. Still a little shell-shocked from how his evening had developed, Jonathan allowed her a gentlemanly moment to right herself and her outfit as he patiently awaited for her to make the first move.

“That was great.” She giggled with a very flushed expression, her hands pulling free a nearby cloth to wipe the mess from between her thighs. Using a shelf to steady her body, she gathered her mess and wrapped the cloth carefully to be dropped in the nearest bin. “So, can I see the face of my mystery man?” She asked, her hand creeping towards his mask.

Panic seizing him once more at the thought of the scandal his identity would spark, Jonathan snatched her wrist in a firm grip as he lowered her hand back to her side, “Some things are better left a mystery, little devil.”

“Little devil? That’s also kinda hot. You sure I can’t have your number, baby?”

Baby.

Absolutely not.

“No.”

“Oh, well,” she shrugged, adjusting her devil horns as she smoothed out the front of her costume, “I guess I’ll catch you later then.”

And with that she tugged the door to the closet open, allowing the rancid beat of whatever hellish music they had moved on to playing to pulse within, before slamming the door shut behind her and disappearing just as quickly as she had appeared.

Left alone, his cock soft and sated and the shame of his weakness creeping into the cracks of his psyche, Jonathan stood with his hands on his hips as he took a moment to process what the hell had just happened.

[bangtanintotheroom]

Undershirt, Underskirt (M)

• Pairing: Bang Chan x (F)Reader

• Genre: Idol!AU, Smut, Fluff, Established Relationship

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 1.3k

• Summary: Your boyfriend’s Lollapalooza attire leaves you wanting for him more than usual.

• Warnings/themes: Chan’s Lollapalooza fit 🫠, pining, ogling, Y/N being horny on main, making out, riding, semi-clothed sex, unprotected sex (she’s on BC), praise

• Notes: *sighs* Look. I’m not gonna act like there was some deep reason behind writing this. I saw Chan in a tank and went absolutely feral. Like, DISGUSTINGLY FERAL. So I had to get it out of my system somehow 🥲 Funny enough, something like this happened last year with Hobi at Lollapalooza…makes me curious about next year lmao

• Notes (2): Thanks to my demonic tender @minttangerines​ for the beta and encouraging me to go ahead and get my thoughts out on paper! 💕

• Taglist: @jimilter​ @joontied​ @minisugakoobies​ @minttangerines​ @sugalaritae​ @crisle19​ @codeinebelle​ @kookprada​ @saweetspoiled​ @effielumiere​ @m1sss1mp​ @spookyminyunki​

Time was never something that you paid much attention to. You went with the flow with no problem. But right now?

Every second that passed by without your boyfriend walking through that room door was time that was wasted not sitting on his dick.

Your grip on the skirt of your dress tightened when you watched the minutes on the alarm clock change yet again. A low grumble escaped your pursed lips as you stewed in this lonely hotel room.

This was unlike you.

You weren’t some 24/7/365 horny monster who would wither away without a helping of Chan. But you had been witness to an unspeakable sight on the Lollapalooza stage.

The sight of Chan removing his jacket to reveal a white tank underneath paired with a multitude of gold chains.

The light stick you had been holding almost fell with how off-guard you were taken. All the times you had seen him in various states of undress and this was what broke you?

Maybe it was the simplicity of the fit that got to you.

Maybe it was the display of his muscled arms and lightly-tanned skin that affected you.

Maybe it was the fact that you kept seeing his top ride up, showing off the flatness of his lower stomach that sat above those damn leather shorts.

Leather shorts that concealed what you were dying to have in your mouth, hands or pussy right now.

Your thighs rubbed together at the strong wave of pleasure that washed over from the thought.

Okay, maybe it was all on you just being a horny mess.

The clicking of the doorknob had you darting up into a full sitting position now, watching it turn with widened eyes. The door opened to reveal the object of your salacious desires, his tired face lighting up at the sight of you.

“Hey baby! Sorry I’m so—”

Your body went on autopilot and bounded down the bed and over to Chan, pouncing on him with your arms wrapped tight around his neck. A sound of exertion left as the weight of you transferred onto him, the force pushing his back into the door. Before he could ask what had gotten into you, you planted your lips on his, the taste of him and his vanilla lip balm only exacerbating your horniness.

It took a few seconds, but he was quick to return your kiss, dropping the bag he held in favor of resting his palms on your ass. But the gentleness of his hold swept away as soon as your tongue came out to part his mouth, long fingers digging into the clothed flesh with intensity.

Damn.

You thought having him in the flesh would ease your pain, but his hard body against your softer one and the scent of his cologne and sweat invading your nostrils only made it worse. There was only one way to fix it.

Pulling away when you were losing breath, you panted, “Please fuck me.”

Chan’s lidded dark eyes opened wide at your plea, still trying to wrap his head around what the fuck was going on.

“Y-Y/N? You good?”

“No, I’m not good. I’ve been wet as an ocean since you were on stage and I need you to help me out.”

Your whining made a low groan leave him, head tipping back against the wood.

“For real?”

Rather than speak, you took one of his hands and slipped it under the hem of your dress. Just the light touch of his fingers brushing against your clothed center had you biting back a whimper, but it was nothing compared to the sharp swear Chan let out.

“The fuck, baby, you’re soaked—”

He ripped that concealed sound out of you by giving your near-throbbing clit a light pinch, making your knees wobble for a moment.

“Can you help me? U-Unless you’re tired…”

Chan straightened the both of you up with his free hand, the look in his eyes speaking volumes.

“Sleep is overrated. Come on.”

Your boyfriend may have denounced slumber earlier, but halfway through the fun, his movements grew a bit slower. Not wanting to exert him any further, you guided him to recline against the headboard and let you take over. The grateful smile he gave was more than enough to make your night.

Well, that and being able to finally sit on his dick like you so desperately wanted.

“Is this really all because of my outfit?”

A huff left you at his inquiry, one hand sliding down from his damp shoulder to give the tank top he still adorned a light tug.

“Yes, babe. Why do you sound so shocked?”

Chan chuckled, biting back a groan as you gave a clench. “Nah, I just don’t get to see you like this often. I like it.”

Now you giggled, leaning forward to press your nose against his.

“Do you?”

A sudden thrust from him interrupted your riding.

“Yeah.”

The moan you let out ended up bringing another stroke from him, forcing your hand to go back to holding him for support. His own roamed over your body, rubbing and gripping in multiple areas that made your blood run hot.

“This plus what you’ve got on? You’re lucky I didn’t run off the stage.”

You laughed at his scenario, knowing damn well he wouldn’t risk such a maneuver.

While you had requested Chan to keep his upper torso clothed (no point in keeping on the ripped shorts), he came in with one of his own, asking if he could just push your dress out of the way. You had no qualms against that, allowing him to tug the hem to gather around your waist while he slid your panties down and off your legs. So what if you were sweating a little more than usual because of the fabric?

That’s what showers were for.

One was definitely going to be necessary after the day the two of you had and the current act that was making everything between your moving bodies sticky and slippery.

After some time, every action on both of your ends led to your riding getting faster and off-beat and his occasional thrusts to become more frequent. It didn’t help when Chan buried his face into your neck, thick voice rumbling against your wet skin, “Gonna make me come if you keep this up, babygirl—”

Surely he could feel the tremble that rocked your entire body.

“Good.”

You gave him little time to prepare after your reply, doing a certain move with your hips that always pushed him to the edge quickly. This time was no exception, Chan’s noises of bliss increasing in pitch until a guttural groan silenced them, feeling him grab your hips to bury himself as he twitched and filled you up with his come. You were able to go against his grip a bit to roll your hips enough to give your clit some stimulation, allowing you to achieve your own orgasm as well.

You could feel Chan laying nips and kisses all over your neck as you shook, followed close with endless praise that made your pussy give clenches that forced his speech to pause. A sense of pride washed over you at how it pulled a few more spurts from him, adding to the heat that coated your walls.

As soon as you slumped onto him, he shifted your bodies so he was laid flat with you directly on top, toned arms holding you tight.

“All better now?”

A hum of content came from you as you snuggled into his chest, your overheated cheek enjoying the cool metal of his chains.

“Much better.”

©bangtanintotheroom, 2023. Crossposted to AO3. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

[muffinsin]

Hi, hon! :) you’re right, I haven’t done that yet at all, what a cool prompt!👀🙌

Let’s get into it :)!

Masterlists

Bela

When she’s with you, intimately, Bela is always very careful

It’s no surprise she found out you’re a virgin early on, having tasted it in your blood

You didn’t expect her to be able to tell the moment you allowed her a sip of it, but aren’t particularly against it, either

Bela is incredibly respectful

She doesn’t want to rush you, and would never want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable

She’s careful around you, takes things slow as to not scare you

At the same time, she teaches you and introduces you to many new things

Never pushing, but always offering

When you approach her about the next step, she cautiously guides you through it, teaching you and checking in often

It starts small, with kisses, no spit, no tongue, barely contact

She never rushes you, keeps her tongue at the back of her mouth until you’re ready for more

When you begin to use your tongue, she never pushes, never outright shoves hers in your mouth

She guides you, allows you to experiment and make the first steps until both of you are sure you’re ready to have her reciprocate

When she does, she checks in often

Mini goals, slowly taking more firsts from you, with your permission

Sex is never awkward with her, it all comes natural

Again, she would never press or rush you

When you want to have sex, she allows you to experiment yet again

Especially at the beginning you’re mostly dressed while she’s in various states of being undressed, allowing you to grope and tease, experiment and feel

You learn about her body, whereas she makes mental notes about yours

Each step is take together, hand in hand

For a while, you’re content to get off using her mouth only

She’s skilled and never makes you feel like you’re missing out

She allows you to embrace your sexuality and the intimacy between the two of you as much as you want, and never more than that

You don’t quite feel ready for insertion yet, and Bela never once bugs you about it

For a long time you learn different techniques, eagerly so

You get excited at learning new things and getting to try them out on Bela

Your favorite feeling is the pride in your chest when you touch her and she reacts positively, moaning, squirming, gasping, whimpering and shivering at your touches

When you decide you’re ready, it’s more of a momentary decision to tell her

You’ve been thinking about it and feel ready, eager, needy for it even

You hold onto her shoulders, kissing her and stopping her when she’s about to lower herself between your legs again

Something familiar to you by now, though today you want to dare try something new

As such, held in her arms, you ask her to take your virginity, to push herself inside of you

With her instructions, you’ve learned how to masturbate using your fingers. You’ve made sure you’re not entirely tight, at least a little warmed up for her

From having her in your hands and mouth, you know she’s large and thick

Upon hearing your request, her eyes widen

“Are you sure?”, she asks, curious

She knows, this is an honor, a privilege

She’s honored you want her to do this, allow her to do this

When you assure her this is what you want, she goes slow yet again

She’s eager, obviously so, but holds back, doesn’t get lost in the desire and pleasure

She takes you in the bed, allows you to lay on your back while she hovers over you

Gently, she lines herself up, reassuring you all the way

She allows you to get comfortable, kissing you and kissing at your neck, getting you less tense and more eager

When you’re absolutely ready, she pushes herself in, slow and steady, just the tip

You wince at the pain, but feel confident to take more of her, slowly

You trust her completely, she she would never abuse this trust

She’s careful with you, thrusting just enough to ease more of herself into you

When she’s fully inside at last, she pauses and allows you to get used to the sensation of it

She kisses you and strokes your cheeks, kisses along your body and brings you pleasure with her fingers alone

When you’re comfortable, she keeps going, thrusting at a comfortable tempo, neither too slow nor too fast

She’s gentle with you, but brings both of you incredible pleasure

She moans louder than ever before, swallowing your moans in return when she kisses you

It’s perfect; soft and romantic, loving and sweet

She makes you cum fast, twice even, before she grants you a break

For the first time she resists the urge to cum inside, of course, instead cums on the blankets next to the two of you

She holds you for a long time, then carries you to the bathroom to clean you up with her

Bela promises; she will always take care of you

Cassandra

From just about the moment she met you, Cassandra’s known you’re a virgin

Your attitude, your inexperience, all the way down to your virgin blood, which she took and tasted the very first time she saw you at the castle

Back then already she was thrilled to have herself a virgin

Originally, her plan was to ruin you

And it still is, though her feelings are involved now

She took a liking to you, and finds she doesn’t want to hurt you

Well, no, that isn’t correct

She very much so wishes to hurt you

Only, she wants it to be a pleasurable kind of pain

She doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, wants you to be okay and comfortable even when she inflicts sweet pain on you

As such, she takes it slow with you, in a way

She’s more experienced then you and eagerly introduces you to new things

And while you’re not ready to have sex, or insertion at the very least, you allow her to introduce you to other things

You find yourself at the receiving end of her sadism, cut and spanked as much as you can endure and enjoy

She teaches you, there’s more than one way to experience pleasure

As such, her chest heaves and cock is painfully hard as she inflicts pain on you

She allows you to experiment with her, cutting her in return should you with to do so, or to experiment using her body

She shows you how to suck her off and give handjobs, eventually even is granted to cum in your mouth

She doesn’t care whether you swallow or spit it out, her true goal lies in eventually cumming inside of you, anyway

When the two of you make out, she likes to lick and bite along your body, slowly riling you up more

It’s all natural between the two of you

As such, first steps are done in the moment, like when she dips her fingertips into you- with your permission of course- and brings you to your first orgasm caused by fingering

You take a liking to it fast, her fingers long and strong

And still, you’re wondering what else there is

How she feels

Her cock, thick and pulsating, how it would feel deep inside of you

When the two of you make out yet again, her lips wet with your juices, you decide: this it is

You want it, have been wanting it

Upon saying so, she confirms and checks in with you

She wants it, badly, but wants to make sure you know the meaning behind your request

When you do, Cassandra gives into her want

You find yourself pushed down on her bed, your wrists above your head held by her hand, her mouth and tongue on your bruised and bitten neck

Both of you are undressed by her, sharp claw-like nails tearing through clothing she can’t be bothered to take off normally

If she had more patience, she might just tease you with her tip, sliding it across your drenched slit and pushing it in and out a couple of times

Alas, Cassandra isn’t known for her patience

She ensures you’re wet enough and grinds herself against you until she too is wet, sparing you the pain of a somewhat dry insertion

Below her, you feel bliss

She bites and sucks at your neck, not enough to draw blood, but certainly enough to add a series of hickeys to your marked up throat

When she pushes herself inside of you, your hands fly to her bare back and your fingernails dig into her pale skin

She doesn’t inch herself in slowly and one by one, sparing both of you the wait

Instead, she pushes herself in halfway, then fully, before pausing

She waits, panting above you, allowing you a moment’s rest to get used to the feeling

“How are we feeling, little one?”, she questions, a quick check in spoken in a low and breathless voice

She’s holding back, enough so for you to be able to get used to the feeling

She’s soft with you, in her own way, kissing you and squeezing your wrists reassuringly

When you’re ready to continue, and say so, she begins to move

Cassandra moves slow, but deep, allowing you to get comfortable

It doesn’t take long for her to figure out the sensitive spots within your body

She licks down your body as she thrusts, slowing down at times when she feels you get a little too close to an orgasm for her liking

Despite it being your first time, she won’t let you cum if you don’t ask her, no, beg her for it

You can onto this fast, gripping her upper body and hooking your legs around her midsection while she thrusts faster and harder into you, certain you can take it now

You’re moaning loudly, your eyes closed and head thrown back against the mattress

She’s insatiable, licking and sucking at your skin, her aching cock splitting you open

You know, she will stop immediately upon being asked to. That’s the farthest thing on your mind, though

You want her to continue, more and more, eager to take all she gives you

And in turn, she’s eager to give you all she has

With the bed rocking and your body marked fully, you’re full of her and reeking of her scent

She loves this

You’re held close to her, begging and pleading for her to allow you to cum this time, please!

Another taken orgasm, then she grants it to you, taking pity on your adorable pleas and cries for her

She drinks in all your moans, groaning when you cum and become so tight it’s almost hard not to cum, too

When she does, she pulls out of you, decorating your lower body and stomach in white instead

When your eyes manage to open up again, you find her golden ones

In them, you see that there’s hours of more ahead of you

Daniela

She knows you’re a virgin from the first moment your blood touches her lips and tongue

She tastes it, and knows instantly

Still, she doesn’t bring it up, unsure if it’s a source of embarrassment for you, as it has been for some of the young women she’s met throughout her long life

Additionally, she doesn’t want to accidentally make you feel pressured to do a thing

While originally she didn’t care much, years and years have taught her taking one’s virginity is something special

And not just as virgins are used to make a fine vintage wine, at the castle

She takes things at your pace, whatever that may be

She especially loves to hold hands and kiss, teaching you different methods

At the same time, you like to learn the new techniques, sliding your tongue against hers, biting and sucking at her lips

You like to experiment and learn what brings her pleasure

Daniela, with years of experience, easily finds your sweet spots and is happy to teach you her ways

Kissing, however, isn’t the only thing she introduces you to

When you open up about being a virgin and wanting to take things slow, she immediately agrees and goes along with it, having known it all along

This doesn’t mean you don’t find alternatives to having sex, though

Going from kissing, to groping, to dry humping and licking, you want to try it all, and Daniela eagerly indulges you

She wants all of you, loves all of your touch and gives you her loving touch in return

You find, she squirms and moans adorably when you take her in your mouth

She’s sensitive and cums fast, but can cum over and over again, too

You can’t help but wonder how her cum feels in you…whether it would feel as warm as it does on your fingers, too

In return, her mouth and fingers work wonders on you and nothing gets you as desperate as grinding down on her bulge, the only barrier being your underwear

You love it, can’t get enough of it

You find yourself tangled together in bed one evening, kissing and grinding up against each other

Moans slurred against one another’s lips, hands sliding up your bodies, tangling in hair, tugging lightly

You’re grinding down against her, her throbbing cock pushing against your barely covered core

“I want it”, you whine, a plead whispered hotly in her ear

At first, she doesn’t understand

Then, her golden eyes widen

She wants it too, so very bad

Still, she checks in with you, asks whether you’re really sure about it

When you confirm, she can barely hold back

If your proposal wasn’t in the heat of the moment, you’re sure she would’ve set up a perfect day and date for this

Alas, she works with what she has to make it a special experience for you, your first time like this

She lights a few candles, keeps the room at a nice temperature and ensures you’re comfortable

She kisses you and takes it slow, despite her twitching and aching cock

You’re held in her arms, so gentle, so loving

She asks how you want it, whether you want her to be slow or to have her push herself in fast, but gentle

Either way she’s careful with you, moving gently and checking in with you often

You love this, love her, so much

She makes you feel completely comfortable, even as both of you are lost in the love and pleasure of the moment

Wrapped up in each other’s arms she moves fast, angling herself to bring you immense pleasure

While experiencing stinging at first, you soon get lost in the pleasure too, moaning and holding onto her tightly

You welcome each kiss she gives you, giggle when she slows down to keep herself from cumming too fast

When you get close, she holds and encourages you, praises and kisses you

Afterwards, to reward her for holding back so well, you’re all to happy to let her cum across your backside

She pulls you close to her, uncaring of the wetness from both sweat and cum now staining the bed. All can be washed, after all

She’s curled up with you, both of you breathing heavily and holding onto one another

You know, she’ll probably get off again later, but appreciate her just cuddling you now

Afterwards, both of you enjoy a relaxing bath that eases the sting between your legs

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Easy Money

Derek Danforth x AFAB!Reader

Summery: Minimum wage is a joke these days and we've all gotta make rent somehow. And who knew blonds could be so fun?

Tags: AFAB/Female pronouns reader, no use of y/n, voyeurism, sex worker!Reader, drug use (marijuana), sex while high, drinking, cursing, bisexual Reader, fetish party, reader plays with several people, tempature play/improper use of ice cubes, sex toys, possessive!Derek, dick piercing (I will not debate this,) face fucking, breast play, oral sex (male recieving), thigh riding, cock warming, cowgirl and doggy position, praising, pet names, edging, rough sex, spanking, vaginal fingering, degradation, dumbification if you squint, dacrophillia. There is no plot. This is just porn. Straight up.

Notes: Y'all begged to me, now y'all begging to your man. You're welcome. Also, please consume substances responsibly. Do NOT assume an edible ain't shit. They ALWAYS are.

                       •°○《▪︎☆▪︎》○°•

The gig is simple. Stand there and look pretty.

The woman who had hired all of us was very clear on the rules; serve drinks, talk to the men, don't have a brain, and if Derek Danforth gives you an ounce of attention, you return it. Sex was optional, but they pay less if you do not engage.

I was just there for the check. Times are hard, but this dress is easy to fit into... if I don't breathe. Jesus, it's tight.

The architecture of the mansion is beautiful. Really, if I wasn't working this party I'd be studying every room for an hour each. High ceilings, detailed woodwork. It's a shame it's all bathed in purple blacklights with everyone wearing neon glowsticks.

The people in attendance are in various states of undress. Some wear their clothes fully, some wear nothing at all. Most are in various states of undress, including the waitresses.

All of our dresses are the same- tight, black, and an easily detachable top with nipple pasties underneath in the shape of blacklight activated glow stars. It's tacky, but the girls who have removed their tops are getting way more tips. And with the debt I'm in, plus the security making absolute sure no camera are recording anything, what's the harm in if I join them? It's more money for me.

The various trays contain different things. Some drinks or shots, others different foods. Then there's the drugs. Oh yes. Cocaine, pills, capped needles on at least one tray I noticed. On mine are several marijuana joints, blunts and even edibles. Our employer had told us we were allowed to indulge, but any damages caused due to our inebriation would come out of our check.

Edibles usually aren't shit for me, so I feel quite safe.

A strawberry cube is tucked safely under my tongue, taking a long while to melt. I can feel my muscles relaxing, making me smile more to the guests as I work my way through the crowd. The beginning gentle buzz helps me to forget the way these people leer at me, some even reaching over to touch me before retracting their hands quickly.

"These guests are quite used to casual sex," the woman had informed us. "There's a code here. You'll each have a pendant around your neck. Depending on the color you choose it will inform them of your preference. Red is for looking only, green means you're okay with sexual touch. It's up to your verbal communication if that touch leads to penetration."

The party was tacky, but at least consent was key.

My color currently is red. It will take more of this edible for anything to change. And currently I see no one making the trouble worth it, anyways.

Right now, anyways.

A man with bright, blond tipped hair and a loud outfit works his way through the crowd. Laughing and speaking with some, taking in the different women serving different items. There's a confident swagger in his walk, one that normally I would scoff at when sober. But with the melting cube quickly joining my bloodstream, I simply stare curiously. It's unintentional, honestly. But he takes notice, narrowing his eyes in reciprocated curiosity before making his way over.

"You're new," he says. I offer him the tray.

"I don't know what you mean," I say politely. He picks up a large blunt, taking out his own lighter instead of using one of the complementary ones on the tray. He takes a long pull, shoving the item back into his snakeskin jacket pocket that doesn't match his zebra print, silk looking button up with black leather pants.

"The other girls have been working here for awhile. Who brought you here?" He asks after taking a long pull, holding it.

"Riley," I answer. He nods, exhaling.

"She's worked here a couple years. You two close?" He asks.

Not particularly. "We're friends," I answer. He smiles a bit, taking another hit.

"You like the party?" He asks.

"I like the lighting," I answer. "And I can't say no to free edibles."

"You take some?" He asks. In answer I scoop the edible onto my tongue and stick it out for him to see. "Good girl, that shit will make you relaxed."

"How much is it?" I ask curiously. Can't be too much, surely.

"Told my guys to pick up 1000mgs," he answers, taking another hit.

... what?

My confusion must be obvious.

"You not used to that?" He chuckles, leaning against the wall next to me.

"I induldge regularly, just... lower amounts," I answer. He exhales, laughing.

"You'll have fun then. Especially if you change your color to green, but that's completely up to you," he says. There's a moment of silence between us before I speak up.

"Nice outfit," I say. He raises a brow at me.

"Yeah?" He asks, scanning me up and down. "I think I prefer yours."

"It matches better, that's for sure," I say. He laughs, then sticks out his hand, his smile confident.

"I'm Derek, by the way."

"Ah," I say. Derek.

Derek!

"Nice to meet you, Mister Danforth," I say, accepting his hand. It's warm and large, strong against mine.

"I don't want to hear Mister out of you unless you change colors, pretty girl," he says, squeezing my hand. I feel myself smiling, heart fluttering a little.

"And what would happen if I did change it, Mister?" I ask politely. His grin widens.

"Well, with the way you look already I'd say people would have a fun time with you," he says, stepping closer. "I wouldn't mind a taste myself. I like my girls warmed up, though."

"Warmed up?" I ask, raising my brow.

"I'll tell you what," he says. "You're welcome to leave your tray anywhere, as I'm sure they've told you. You can change your color to green, enjoy your edible and just let the crowd guide you to me. I promise they will." His eyes roam over me, taking me in with a hungry gaze, his mind distracted by obvious thoughts. I wonder how well his shoulders would hold me.

Shit. He's right, this is strong. The herbal smell on his breath is inviting, and I'm already leaning in. Plus, his outfit is beginning to make visually stimulating sense.

"Isn't it polite for a host to show his guest around?" I ask, batting my lashes. I can feel my eyes drying out, my cheeks buzzing and my body beginning to feel the bass of the music just a little bit more than I was a second ago.

"It is, pretty girl," Derek says, taking another hit. "But you're not a guest, are you?"

No, I'm not. I begin to pull away when his hand catches my pendant.

"You want me to get that for you?" He asks, exhaling through his nose.

"Yes sir," I answer with a smile, placing my tray carefully on the table beside me.

"Good girl," he praises, changing the color with a quick flick of his thumb. "You'll fit in just fine."

Before I can respond, his lips attach to my neck, sucking earnestly and harshly. I can't help the small cry that escapes me, my hand finding his hair and burying itself in it as he pins me against the wall.

His hand cups my breast, kneeding it carefully as he creates patterns across my skin with his mouth, licking at the newly bruised flesh before moving on to a new, unmarked area. He holds his blunt up for me, trying to keep it still enough to allow me to take a hit. I accept, holding his hand steady by the wrist, inhaling as much as I can.

His lips detach from my throat, his eyes red and glazed over as his lips graze mine.

"Care to share?" He asks lowly, his fingers still tweaking at my nipple. I'm vaguely aware that my pasties have been removed, where they've gone to I've no clue.

Obediently, I blow the smoke into Derek's mouth, his hand leaving my breast to cup my jaw, holding my mouth open with his large thumb. Once I'm done he takes his own hit, holding it for a moment before pressing his lips against mine, sealing them together before blowing the smoke into my mouth as well. His tongue slides against mine, tasting of whiskey and smoke. I don't hate the way it blends with the sweet, surgery strawberry cube still melting under my tongue.

He pulls away slightly, breathing heavily.

"You taste sweet," he says. "Mind if I try some?"

"Go ahead," I answer. I expect him to take an edible from the tray, but instead he leans in again, his tongue searching for the half melted candy. He finds it under my tongue, slipping it onto his and then pulling away, smiling in satisfaction.

"Oh," I breathe, batting my lashes in surprise.

"I'll trade you," he says, pressing a small kiss to my cheek as he passes the blunt to me. "Just let the crowd lead you, sweet girl. I'll see you in a bit."

Before I can even think of a response, he slips amongst the crowd, gone in the blink of a hazy eye.

Alright. This is fine. Great, actually. I take a hit of the sour tasting blunt and begin walking amongst the crowd.

Derek was right, I am an eye catcher. Or maybe these people aren't particularly picky. But it doesn't take long at all before people are touching me, sliding their hands over my hips as I pass by, stopping me for a moment to press me against their bodies, leaving a mark or three on my skin. The attention makes my mind blank, smiles on my lips as I whisper 'thank you's, the patrons slipping tips into the tight pockets of my skirt as they release me, letting me blend into the crowd once more until someone else catches me.

I should be revolted, I know this. But the people aren't hard to look at, and with as much as I have flowing through my system all I can really think about is how amazing I feel. My joints feel like air is passing straight through them, my head feels light and free of racing thoughts. The lights entrance me, making me easily distractable until a woman guides me gently towards her group, placing me on her lap as she talks with what I'm guessing are work colleagues. Or something. Fuck if I care.

Her hand strokes my back carefully, not speaking to me as I continue hitting my almost burnt out blunt. She glances at me from time to time, smiling sweetly as she watches me.

"Can I have some?" The older woman asks gently. Her lips are painted a dark black, revealing white teeth underneath. Her features are sharp, contoured by heavy makeup. Her hair is shaggy and black, and God, she's... broad. Muscular and looking like she could eat me alive. I wouldn't mind if she tried.

I hand her the last little bit, letting her have what remains as I begin to focus on her hair. It's soft, feeling amazing between my fingers.

"You have anywhere you need to be for the rest of the night?" She asks, her voice deep.

"Derek," I breathe, barely focusing. She and the other women amongst her let out a noise of recognition, some even laughing a little.

"He likes his girls pent up," Another says, nodding. "Says he likes them used, but we all know that's not true."

"Derek likes to go for hours," warns a woman with blue hair that glows in the blacklight. "Hope you have a lot of energy saved up. If he likes you, you won't go home for days."

The woman with black hair is finishing the blunt, flicking away the last little bit and letting it land wherever.

"You mind if we help you?" She asks.

"No," I answer, my hands running over her broad, leather covered shoulders. "I don't mind."

The women aw over me, moving closer and touching different parts of me.

"Focus on my thigh, good girl," says the dark haired one. "Just rock yourself against it and let me know when you're close." She turns to the second woman, nodding her head towards me. "You want to taste her?"

The second woman nods, joining me on her lap and grinding herself against the first woman's other thigh before bending over to wrap her lips around my nipple, moaning as she does.

The third woman, the one with blue hair, simply watches, continuing to talk to the dark haired woman, stroking my back as she does. The first woman seems engaged in the conversation, occasionally sucking on my other breast before responding to the blue haired woman. The second woman is fully engrossed in tasting me, sucking and nipping at my breast eagerly, moaning as she does.

The stimulation feels amazing, my head tilted back as I rock on the dark haired woman's thigh, my body feeling things it never has before. The feeling of two women sliding their tongues across my sensitive nipples, sucking on them at the same time at different paces is almost enough on its own to make me cum. I can feel how wet I am even through my underwear, surely staining the first woman's clothes.

"Shit, Ava. She may not make it to Derek at this point," laughs the blue haired woman. The first woman, Ava, simply smiles, admiring me.

"Should we let you cum, good girl? Or do you want Derek?" She asks, bouncing her leg as she does.

I moan loudly, my mind unable to form a response. This is lovely, just absolutely wonderful. But something tells me that if I waited, if I edged myself like Derek seemed to prefer, then I would be well rewarded.

"Wait," I pant, still rocking my hips against her thigh. The three women groan, laughing a little more as they begin to give me space.

"You think she's good enough for him?" Ava asks the second woman.

"If she's not, he's out of his mind," she says, tearing herself away from my breast and standing to move onto the blue haired woman's lap instead.

Ava guides me off of her before standing tall and admittedly terrifying. She pulls me up gently, taking my hand and leading me through the room. "Follow me, sweet girl," she says. "I'll take you to the main event."

The other two women wave at me, smiling wickedly before turning their focus onto each other. As the drugs begin to hit harder, just a little ways from my peak, I begin to wonder what it is I've really gotten myself into.

A pair of double doors reveal the same dyed blond man on a plush couch, lounging lazily as he speaks to a small group of people in the private lounge. Upon seeing me guided into the room, he smiles eagerly, quickly sitting up.

"I told you you'd find me," he says, setting his whiskey glass in front of him on the small, glass table.

I smile warmly at him, trying to keep my balance as I walk around to him.

"You get her all ready for me, Ava?" He asks, gently placing his hands on my hips and guiding me to sit on his lap, my back pressed against his chest.

"I did," the woman says, joining us. "She's pretty pent up."

"Did she get you pent up, pretty girl?" Derek asks, laughing softly. I can feel the blush in my cheeks, my eyes barely able to stay open as I lean my head back onto his shoulder.

"Feel her if you don't believe me," Ava offers. Derek obliges, dipping his hand between my thighs, pushing my thin panties to the side.

"Fuck," he groans. "You weren't kidding."

Derek guides my legs to spread open, one hand keeping me open for everyone to watch as his other hand explores my vulva.

"Don't worry about everyone else," he whispers in my ear. "We're all just here for a good time. Right, pretty girl?"

I nod, moaning as his finger swirls around my clit. He continues speaking to his friends, drinking casually as his hand toys with me.

"You want some?" He asks, offering me the glass. I shake my head. I'm fucked up enough.

"Water?" He asks. At that I nod, and with the quick snap of his fingers it only takes a blink before he's holding a water in front of me, complete with ice cubes inside.

"Go ahead," he says. "Take a drink."

I obediently lean forward, placing my bottom lip on the edge as Derek tips the water into my mouth. It's soothing at first, my body relishing the cold rush it gives me. Derek's hand glides up and down my folds, teasing my entrance.

"You like the cold?" Derek asks. I try to respond, forgetting the glass in front of me. The water spills down onto my body, freezing and making me cry out in shock at the sudden sensation.

Derek and his friends laugh, his lips pressing soothing kisses along my shoulder blade.

"I'm sorry, were you not ready for that?" He asks sweetly, smiling at me. I shake my head. He places the glass on the table in front of us, collecting a couple of ice cubes before leaning back and adjusting me to face him.

"Let's get you prepped then, yeah?" He asks, popping one into his mouth and chewing.

My eyes widen, mouth opening in question just before Derek wraps his own lips around my nipples, sucking gently and swirling the quickly chewed cube around the hard bud.

"Fuck!" I cry, leaning backwards. Ava catches me, stroking my hair as she watches.

"I knew he'd like you," Ava says in my ear. "He likes breaking in the new girls personally."

Derek's fingers tease my entrance, threatening to dip in while he sucks on my breast, moaning around the cold flesh. He swirls his spit around, rubbing my clit with his thumb.

"You taste amazing," he moans, his breath cold. "Love to taste more."

I moan happily, spreading my legs more and bucking against his hand.

"Take me," I moan. "Do whatever you want."

"Jesus, she's excited," he laughs. "How long has it been, sweet girl?"

Too long. Much too long.

It must be obvious based on the way he trails lower, kissing and sucking on my skin as he begins to slip my skirt and underwear off of my lower body.

"Is this okay?" He asks, looking up at me expectantly. I nod eagerly, rolling my hips towards him impatiently.

"I don't think she likes teasing, Derek," Ava comments.

"No?" He laughs. "Do you like teasing, sweet girl?"

I shake my head slightly, whining. He and Ava laugh, Derek placing a kiss on my stomach.

"Well, I don't want to go too fast, new girl," he says. "Could break you, you know."

"No you won't," I whine. Derek sucks sharply on the spot, leaving a dark mark.

"Gonna have to teach her a thing or two, aren't I, Ava?" He asks. "You know where that toy is?"

"What toy?" I ask.

"Don't you worry about a thing, pretty girl," Derek instructs. "I'm gonna take care of everything for you now. Just relax."

Ava removes herself from the couch, disappearing to look for something. As I'm distracted, Derek slips an ice cube into my warm cunt.

"Ah!" I cry out sharply, arching my back as my hips roll automatically, unsure what to do to relieve myself. "It's cold."

Derek simply laughs, sitting up straight and dragging me onto his thick thigh.

"It's supposed to be," he says mockingly. "That'll work in the meantime while we wait for Ava to come back."

I start to grind against his thigh, my cunt clenching around the cold cube rapidly as I feel the melting water begin to drip out of me. Derek pulls my hair, tutting his tongue against his teeth as he shakes his head.

"Stay still, that's an order," he says sharply. Someone offers him a cigarette, which he takes with no hesitation. When someone offers me one as well, he waves them away.

"She's had enough," he says. He keeps his hand in my hair, keeping a close eye on me to make sure I don't move.

"You enjoying the party?" He asks me.

"Yes," I say.

"Yes what?" He asks, taking a drag.

"Yes, sir?" I say. He smiles.

"Good. You're smart." He turns his attention to a man asking about some account, rambling something about bitcoin and such. Ugh. I don't know why I'm surprised.

I keep my hands clasped behind my back, pressing my chest forward to allow him easy access. This pleases him, his smile growing genuine whenever he glances my way. Once he bounces his leg, making me squirm for more. At that, he pulls my hair, shaming me for breaking the rule.

"Behave," he commands sharply. A few minutes later, however, he bounces his leg again. This time he doesn't stop.

The jolting motion sends shockwaves through my system, the drugs making me weak and stupid. He's not watching me, seeming involved in the conversation, and this ice cube is nearly melted inside of my cunt, dripping more and more. I can't handle this.

I shift my hips subtly, testing the waters. He doesn't notice, and if he does he doesn't care. I do it again, slightly harder against his thigh. Derek is talking about some party in Havana, laughing about a different conquest. I work slowly, making sure he won't turn his eye onto me. Finally, after a few minutes of grinding against him, I feel confident enough to begin a slow, steady rhythm against his thigh, his leg still bouncing against me.

My body feels amazing. Light, stimulation pounding throughout me, it only takes a few minutes before I'm on edge again, my pussy making his thigh slick and easy to grind against as I ride him. My cheeks burn with heat, my eyes eyes fluttering shut as I lose myself in the rhythm, fully focused on how hard his leg is bouncing. The vibrations go right to my clit, making my pussy seize around nothing now as my pulsing heat had caused the cube to disappear. I begin to grind faster and faster, desperate to cum. I don't realize I've begun panting, moaning as I ride him, and the attention in the room has turned towards me in full with Derek rubbing his hand up and down my back slowly, grazing his nails across the skin of my back as he watches with a look that makes him look like the cat who ate the canary.

"You close, sweet girl?" He asks me. My blush deepens, my eyes fluttering open in realization. Derek simply quirks a brow at me, exhaling his smoke into my face as he waits for my answer. My hips stutter, hesitating to continue.

"Don't get shy," Derek scolds. "You were just fine fucking yourself a moment ago. What's a few dozen people watching you?" He asks.

People are chuckling now, making small comments of encouragement.

"You looked so pretty, baby. Fucking yourself stupid on my thigh," he says as his lips tease my tits. "Didn't she look pretty, everyone?" He asks the room, glancing around at the people who respond with affirmations.

I lean forward, trying to hide my face in the crook of his neck. What had I been doing? In front of this entire room? I'd just needed a few quick bucks, that's all this was supposed to be. This was exponentially further than I'd ever planned.

Derek tuts, pulling me away from my hiding place. "Oh no, you wanted to cum. I'm going to make sure you cum," he chides. "I wonder how you'd feel on my cock. Would you like that? You'd feel better if you were on my cock, wouldn't you?"

I nod shyly, my eyes avoiding everyone but Derek. He glances around the room once more, noises of encouragement growing louder.

"You wanna get me ready, baby?" He asks encouragingly, taking one of my hands from behind my back and guiding it to his stiff, clothed cock.

I gasp lightly, squeezing it and grazing my thumb up and down his dick covered by the tight, leather material.

"You look big," I mutter.

"Feel big too," he chuckles. "Go on, try it out. I think you'll like it."

I think I will.

It's hard to see in the odd lighting, so my hands struggle with the hidden zipper.

"Try getting closer," Derek teases, his breath warm against my ear. "It doesn't bite like I do." To emphasize his point, he sinks his teeth into my neck, harsh and quick before releasing me, leaning back in his chair. The sudden movement makes me dizzy, my mind reeling as I automatically sink to my knees in front of the plush, velvet sofa.

Once his pants are opened, he springs out, no underwear confining him. Jesus. He's mostly average, leaning towards the larger side. It's mostly the piercing that surprises me.

"Like it?" He asks. I glance up at him, his grin cocky as he takes a drag from his new cigarette. Hey, man. What happens if I swallow this?

I stammer, opening my mouth and trying to say something.

"You need help?" He asks, wrapping his hand decorated with several rings around his shaft. "Open your mouth again," he commands. I do so without hesitation. His other hand guides my head down, forcing me to swallow it halfway down. I moan in satisfaction, my eyes slowly shutting as I take in the taste of his skin.

"Atta girl. Take a minute if you need to," he says casually. I can smell the thick smoke near my head, his hand stroking my hair gently. Ava must have returned because he's telling someone how warm my mouth is.

"You ready, sweetheart?" He asks. "Wanna show you off for my friends."

Taking a deep breath and opening my eyes once more, I lower myself slowly to his base. He's just long enough that when his piercing collides with my uvula I cough, nearly choking on him. More gentle laughter escapes the crowd, Derek praising me as he begins to thrust into my mouth.

"Just stay there, sweetheart," he says. "I'll do the work."

True to his word, Derek begins pumping his dick in and out of my mouth, whispering something in Ava's ear. I begin taking in the other people around the room, most of them watching us eagerly.

"Watch me, sweetheart," he commands, snapping his fingers and pointing at himself. "You don't have anywhere to look but here."

I obey, keeping my eyes trained on him as he smokes his cigarette which rests between his lips, his jaw gritted as he rolls his hips into my throat, his eyes glazed over in pleasure and who knows what else.

Without warning, someone begins fingering my cunt. A startled moan escapes me, vibrating around Derek's throbbing cock and making him moan, his face confident.

"Don't worry baby, it's just Ava," he says, stroking my hair. "You like Ava, right?"

I moan again, Ava's fingers quick and shallow in my tight pussy.

"Ava certainly likes you. Almost stole you from me, isn't that right?" He asks her, tapping his cherry carelessly onto the floor behind him.

"That's right," her deep voice purrs in my ear. I moan again, my eyes almost fluttering shut from pleasure until Derek grabs my hair, fucking my face roughly to bring my attention back to him.

"Hey now, don't get too happy," he scolds, but he's smiling. "You still like me more, right baby?"

I moan, pressing my tongue to his underside as he slides in and out. He tastes sweet, his jewelry creating an interesting feeling in the back of my throat. Ava withdraws her fingers, quickly replacing them with a vibrating bullet instead.

"Mmph!" I moan, my eyes nearly fluttering shut again. The speed increases, making me drip and writhe my hips against nothing.

"God, she's fun," Derek moans. "Ava, book her for Cabo," he says.

Cabo??

"You like her that much?" Ava laughs. Derek simply glares at her. Is this a thing? Trading girls, fighting over them? What is this?

"Just fucking talk to whoever about it," he spits, his dick quickening in my throat. I'm gagging around him, barely able to catch my breath as I press my hands desperately against his thighs. "Anyone else fuck her tonight?"

"Don't know," Ava shrugs. She brings her face close to mine, her breath hot in my ear. "Did they?"

I moan, trying to shake my head. Derek nods, smiling.

"Perfect," he drawls. The bullet inside of me is driving me insane, enough to keep me on the edge of pleasure but not enough to tip me over. My eyes look up at him, wide and begging, tears beginning to spill from my waterline and streaming down my face.

"You're killing her," Ava scolds him. "Is he being mean?" She asks me. Yes.

"She can take it," Derek says. "You like it a little mean, don't you baby?" He asks, smiling. Yes.

"See?" Derek says. "She's just fine."

Actually, I'm about to hit my peak drug wise, and I can't fucking breathe. But all it does is make me want more, my throat taking him as deep as I can as I moan around him, my tongue moving desperately, eager to swallow his load.

"Think I should cum down her throat?" He asks Ava, his head tilted back in pleasure, cigarette nearly burnt out between his lips.

"Would you like that?" Ava asks, setting the speed of the bullet to max. I scream around Derek's cock, overstimulated and stupid. "I think that's a yes."

"God, you're amazing," he praises. "Such a perfect fucking slut."

Right before he reaches his edge, he pulls me away, admiring the long, thick string of spit that still connects my swollen lips to his cock.

"Look at that," he says. "Should take a picture of that someday."

His hand drags me up by my hair, guiding me to return to his lap. Once I'm straddled across his lap, his fingers delve into my cunt, fucking me quickly as he presses the bullet against my g-spot.

"You like my cock, pretty girl?" He asks.

"Yes," I moan, my voice and throat raw.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent."

His fingers remove the bullet, and he quickly replaces his hand and bullet with his pulsing cock, both of us moaning at the feeling.

"Jesus, fuck," he moans. "You are fucking tight. I can feel everything."

My cunt spasms around him, eager for whatever friction he'll grant me. He stays still, something that's clearly a challenge for him.

"Gonna stay there for awhile," he says. "Wanna make sure you're ready, baby."

My spit on his dick makes for excellent lube, his piercing comfortable against my cervix. His hands run up and down my thighs, squeezing here and there, eventually moving to massage my ass.

"The crowd loves you," he praises, pulling me close to his chest. "Think I love you too."

I'm very high. I'm very horny. I will do whatever this fried hair, cocky ass motherfucker tells me to do.

A waitress walks behind the couch, offering us a tray of joints. Isn't that my job?

"Go ahead, take one," Derek instructs me. I do so, reaching for the lighter on the tray.

"Don't bother, I have one in my pocket. Thank you," he says to the waitress, dismissing her. He reaches into his coat, taking out the lighter before discarding the jacket, leaving him in his zebra printed button up that shows off his chest hair along with a white gold sparkling chain.

He holds the lighter for me, lighting up the joint as I hold it between my lips.

"You're gonna smoke me out, okay angel?" He says, leaning back against the couch, his arms stretched out along the back. I rest one hand against his chest, taking a hit and holding it for a second before leaning forward and blowing it into his mouth.

One of his hands find my hair, pressing my lips against his, his cock twitching inside of me as his tongue slips into my mouth, establishing dominance before allowing me to pull away for another hit. Then another. Then another.

As he inhales the last hit, his hips begin rolling into mine, his voice low as he groans.

"Go on and start riding me, angel," he moans, completely lost in the pleasure. "Show me how you want me."

My hands grasp his shoulders, clinging desperately as I begin to glide up and down his length, his cock twitching against my most sensitive spots with each glide.

"You ever fuck a pussy as good as this?" I ask, watching his jaw shift subtly from side to side as he focuses on my tightness.

"Oh, she speaks now?" He asks, smirking. "Grow a fucken brain, princess?"

His tip slams into my cervix, making me gasp and press my tits into his face. His mouth works quickly, biting and sucking at the tender mounds as I ride him.

"I'm just making conversation," I say. I'm high enough my filter is gone, my brain rotted to the point I'm only focused on my pleasure. He moans against my tit, looking up at me while he buries himself in my body.

"I can't say I have," he says, grinning. "Why, that turn you on?"

Immensely. Not that I'd tell him that.

"Say it," he dares, his cock slamming into me. "Don't hold out on me."

"Maybe I will," I tease, tugging his hair. My hips speed up, riding him hard enough I can feel the couch rocking ever so slightly.

"You're fun," he chuckles. "Say it."

"No," I say, slamming my wet cunt against his base, making him groan loudly.

His teeth sink into my skin, pulling on my nipple to the point I'm on the razors edge of pain and pleasure.

"I don't mind waiting," he says, his tongue flicking against my nipples. "I like causing pain."

His teeth sink in deeper, his fingernails dragging down my back slowly as he slams into me, making me bounce hard enough I can feel it in my stomach.

This is a hell of a paycheck.

"I like it," I say. He chuckles.

"That's not enough," he says.

"I wanna be the best girl you've fucked," I add.

"Mm, need more details." His teeth release my nipple, leaning forward and quickly catching it once more, sucking on the almost raw flesh hard enough it feels like I won't be able to wear a shirt for the next day or two. One of his hands return to my hair, gripping it and pulling it hard enough I can see the people behind us, some of them still watching, some focused on each other, most people switching between the two as they fuck each other.

"Come on, you were just so confident," he laughs against me before returning to his task. My chest burns with want and embarrassment, my eyes glazing over as I give in.

"I wanna make you pussy whipped," I moan. "I wanna glance at something and get it from how desperate you are to get the chance to fuck me."

He chuckles lowly. "I think we'll get along for a while," he says in a satisfied tone, finally releasing my tits from his torture.

"Gonna get me on payroll?" I ask, smiling as I throw my leg onto the back on the couch, giving him better access to fuck me.

"Play your cards right and I'll get my surname on you, pretty girl."

It's an evening of drugs and sex, come morning I'm sure he won't even remember my eye color. But for tonight, can't a bitch dream?

"Go ahead and laugh," he dares. "I get what I want."

"And you want me?"

"Fuck yeah."

He forces me to my side, turning me onto my stomach and hiking my ankles onto his shoulders.

"Jesus!" I cry, feeling his cock bury into me from behind, slamming straight into an overwhelming spot that makes me blind with pleasure.

"Too much," I cry. "Fuck, too much!"

"And that's a problem?" He laughs, abusing me as he smacks my ass, admiring the way my skin reddens.

"Yeah, you're not getting another dick ever again," he decides, his hips chasing after a high that tears screams from my throat. I'm so overstimulated I don't even know if I can cum, my eyes crossed and ass feeling his palm bearing down on the sensitive flesh time and time again, growing more rapid in succession, forcing me to clench his length harder with each new hit.

"Come on, pretty girl," he growls, pressing his chest against my back, his hands keeping my hips pressed against him with no chance to escape. His balls smack against my clit, making me moan in stupidity. "I know you want to."

I cry out, tears streaming down my face, hair stuck to my wet skin as I feel my cunt begin to throb in warning, my stomach clenching as the knot inside me begins to snap, my mind growing fuzzy and static as I pant eagerly.

"Fuck, she's close," Derek moans to someone, small whimpers escaping him as he pumps into me, his teeth digging into my shoulder, sending me over the edge.

Someone's screaming, and I have the vague idea it may be me. I can feel Derek's front soaked in my cum, his dick slamming into me in a way that I just know I'll have a migraine in a few minutes.

"Good girl," he praises. "Fuck. Amazing girl. Taking good dick like a fucking pro."

His cock throbs in me as he cums, deep and right next to my cervix, keeping himself buried as his seed pumps into me, hot and thick.

"I wasn't joking, sweetheart," he mutters in my ear, his voice exhausted. "You and I are going to become good, good friends."

I groan as I feel him slip out, his fingers pushing any cum that drips from my folds back into me, then placing a plug into my aching cunt. His hand grips my hair, pulling me back up to sit on his lap as he accepts a new drink, his cheeks flushed as he tries to regain his breath.

"Let's get something to get your energy back up, hmm?" He asks, pressing a firm kiss on my sweaty forehead.

▪︎《•☆•》▪︎

Cabo doesn't sound all that bad, Danforth. Not bad at all.

Masterlist

I wrote this instead of sleeping. Anyways, see you next time for Mike Schmidt. Stay safe pookies <3