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[mulloey]

chapter two.

in full bloom.

dominant ateez x submissive reader

series warnings: heavy bdsm dynamics, subspace, rules and punishments, kink exploration, eventual romance, heavy/extreme kinks in later chapters. the characters engage in consensual controlling behaviour under the agreement of a 24/7 bdsm dynamic. this story does not represent ateez in any way; i merely use them as muses for my own characters. specific warnings will be in each chapter.

chapter warnings: discussion of rules and punishments, bdsm scene, use of ‘sir’, praise & degradation, pet play, impact play, light breath play, anal & vaginal fingering, overstimulation, denial etc.

words: 8.5k

disclaimer: this is an expanded rewrite of an old work of mine, ‘the new girl.’ if you feel like you’ve seen this fic before, you probably have. not all bdsm relationships involve sexual contact, however, this one does. please be safe.

The next few weeks seem to stretch impossibly. Like darkness in the dead of winter; long, never-ending, only anticipation to pull you through it. You didn’t get to see them again, after your first meeting; the guys left the country a few days afterwards, off on tour somewhere, leaving you here alone and waiting for them with a desperation you would never admit.

It’s a good test, though, Maya says; space and time away from them so you can sort through your thoughts and feelings without any undue influence. And you do—more than you should, perhaps.

In fact, you do nothing but think about them.

Any time you’re not replaying your meeting with them in your head, or thinking about them with a hand between your legs, or curled up in a ball stressing and worrying about every conceivable way this could all go horribly wrong—you’re watching them. You’re searching their names on social media, watching their music videos and staring at their pictures until your eyes hurt.

You can’t help it, really. Can’t even try to. They’re so hot—and you’re so eager.

That night at the bar, in fact, you’d barely managed to make it all the way home before sending the first text to Hongjoong, but if you came across as too keen, he didn’t mention it. Just a short I take it you’re home now, puppy?, and some small, infuriatingly procedural questions about how you felt the night had gone.

He’d even asked for permission to call you puppy. The care and caution in everything he does is equal parts maddening and delightful.

You text them a lot; every day, when there’s time. Surprisingly, to you at least, most of your conversations have nothing to do with your impending arrangement; just normal, casual things; irrelevant things that somehow, with them, feel invigorating.

It’s the way they speak to you, you think; controlled, commanding, nurturing. Oozing with authority and completely and entirely confident in it. It makes you want to kneel from five thousand miles away.

You don’t even think they do it on purpose; not all the time, anyway. It’s just who they are; how they are. They fall into it as naturally as you do into the inverse—into submission.

Your need for it has always been integral; as natural as breathing. It’s the achievement of it, or at least, the achievement of it in the vast and all-encompassing form you crave, that comes a little less easily. With them, though, you have some hope.

Your chat with Seonghwa sits at the top of your messages when you wake up; the little bunny emoji you’ve put next to his contact makes it just a little less intimidating to open, but your breath still hitches as it always does.

It’s a question you’re afraid to ask, let alone answer��why they already have such a hold over you. Why you’re already so affected by the mere idea of them.

good morning, puppy. call me when you’re up, if you can.

It takes you a little by surprise; you haven’t called any of them yet, whether because they’re too busy or for another reason you’re not sure. It makes you nervous, too, to be honest, the idea of phoning him.

But he asked you to do something and you’re eager to impress, so you bite the bullet and press call.

He picks up after a couple of rings. “Hi, baby.” You hear the smile in his voice; it makes you smile a little too, nerves cooling off some.

“Hi, Seonghwa.”

“Have you been thinking everything over like we asked?”

“Yeah,” you answer. He doesn’t reply, and you know what he’s waiting to hear. You swallow the lump that tries to form in your throat. “I really…I want to try this with you guys.”

“I’m happy to hear that. Is there anything you want to ask me about it?”

You hesitate, and though he says nothing you imagine he notices. He doesn’t rush you, though; just waits for you to find the words and make sense of them.

“The rules,” you say finally. “You said you guys are strict, so I wondered what some of the rules would be.”

“It depends on the submissive,” he replies after a moment. “Her needs, things she might want to improve on. But aside from obvious things like safety, we also have some core ones that stand for everyone we play with. Respect, permission, obedience.”

Respect, permission, obedience. You like those words; they make your head feel a little lighter and your stomach twist with want—want to fulfil them, and want to face the consequences when you don’t.

You’re good at those things, you know that. Good at submitting.

Usually. Sometimes, of course, you like to play.

“And if I break the rules?”

“Oh?” He laughs a little. “Are you planning on it?”

You hesitate, again, unsure how to answer; the truth, you know, is your only option, but suddenly it feels inadequate, your fear of annoying or disappointing them and being kicked to the curb now overarching.

This time, Seonghwa notices. “Hey,” he says. His voice has softened, but it’s still just as firm, just as resolute. “It’s important that you’re honest with us. You don’t need to hide anything from us, you know. Even the bratty side of you.”

You bite your lip, easing tension. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” he says. “We love brats. They’re a lot of fun. But you’re not one, really, I think, not often. You just like to push back a little sometimes.”

“You think so?”

“I think sometimes you need a reminder of who’s in control. Sometimes you need to get rid of guilt, to feel like you’re being held accountable for your mistakes. Sometimes, maybe, you just want to be punished. You want to feel like a bad little girl and be put back in your place.”

God, you do want that. You want all of it. And you want to let go of your fear of disappointing them so you can enjoy it in its entirety.

Maybe with them, you’ll learn to.

“You’re right,” you mumble. “And…it wouldn’t bother you? If I acted out?”

He sounds genuinely surprised at the question. “Bother me?” He repeats. “Of course not. Misbehaving is a normal part of these relationships; testing the limits and so on. I’d be honoured if you felt safe and secure with us enough to do that with us. And I’d be just as honoured to put you back in your place, too.”

Your breath hitches a little; at the image in your head and the safety that surrounds it. “Really?”

“Really,” he echos. “We want you. We knew it just from talking to you that day in the bar; knew you’d be perfect for us too. We want to train you up and make you the perfect little pet for us, so long as that’s what you want too. And if you need a spanking every day to keep you that way, then that’s what you’ll get. It would be our privilege to give it to you. You don’t need to worry about disappointing or bothering us or any of that.”

“Oh.” The relief you feel is physical; like a load on your chest finally lifting. You breathe out a reply that sounds a little more emotional than you’d like to admit.

It’s a warm, cosy feeling, knowing you won’t have to hide from them. A safety you’ve been searching for for longer than you’d realised.

You find yourself blinking back tears before you can process it.

You missed this more than you were conscious of.

Seonghwa’s voice sounds almost impossibly gentle. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you sniff. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Don’t apologise for getting emotional,” he says, and his voice is suddenly sharper than you’ve heard it. “It’s good, actually, that you do. That’s what we want.”

“It is?”

“Yes. We’ve found a lot of people just view this stuff as a way to get off, but it’s about a lot more than that for us.”

“Like what?” You ask.

“Trust,” he replies. “Connection. Surrender. Caring and being cared for. Release, too. But the more we get to know each other, the better answer I’ll have. Every submissive is different.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “It’s the same to me. The importance. It’s reassuring, to know this is as important to you as it is to me.”

“It’s essential to my being,” Seonghwa responds. “Without it it feels like something’s missing.”

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a moment, like he’s silently gauging your response, as much as he can over the phone at least. “Would you like to try out a rule now?“

You inhale, sharp and sudden. You hear him laugh a little. “Please.”

“Good girl,” he hums. “Okay, here’s one. Every day, you’re going to send me a picture of you. It doesn't matter what you’re doing, or if you think you think you look good. You send one every day.”

“Oh.”

“What do you think?”

“I like that,” you breathe. “A lot.”

“Good. Do it now.”

You pause. “Right now?”

“Right now.”

“Okay,” you mutter. You pull the phone back, opening the camera to snap a pic and sending it before you can pick it apart like you usually do. The lighting is low, though, curtains still drawn and only the bedside lamp shining dimly from the other side of your bed, so there’s not much to pick apart anyway.

The message is read instantly. His voice comes low and affected through the phone.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “You look so tiny, baby. So fucking cute.”

“You think so?”

“You’re going to drive me fucking crazy,” he says. “All of us. I can’t wait for this tour to end. I need to get my hands on you.”

You can’t wait either.

“I have a question for you too, if that’s alright.”

You raise your eyebrows, curious. “What is it?”

“About our first scene together,” he says. “How do you imagine it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Anything you like, really. For example, do you want sexual contact? Do you want to get off? Or do you want it to be pure, high-protocol play?”

“I want to get off,” you say, maybe a little too quickly. “I just… it’s been so long since I did this, I’ve been waiting so long. So yeah, I want sexual contact, but I want the S/M stuff too. I want to see how it is you all are, when you’re doing a scene. What it’s like to submit to you.”

“Okay,” he breathes. He sounds affected. “We can do that. We can do all of that. Definitely.”

“Really?”

“Of course we can. We want our first scene together to be as you like. We didn’t want to be all whips and chains and bruises and psych you out straight away.”

“I mean,” you mumble. “I like whips and chains and bruises.”

“So do we,” he responds. “But it’s not appropriate for a first scene. It would be irresponsible of us to do that to you straight away, before you even know how we are as dominants and how you feel about it.”

“That makes sense,” you say. “Okay. So we’ll ease into everything, right?”

“Exactly. You’ll definitely get the whips and chains and bruises, I can promise you that. But you’ll get them when you’re ready. We’ll start you off with a shorter, more gentle scene; just a taster, okay?”

“Okay.”

You talk for a few more minutes, about random things; your work, their tour, and everything in between until he hangs up, suddenly called on by his manager, with a promise to text you later. You toss your phone to the side and curl back up inside your sheets. You’re alone in your room, barely any light, but the echo of his voice and the promise of their impending return makes you feel enveloped. Embraced.

By the time they’re back in the country you’re getting yourself off at least once a day just to quell the urges for them. You haven’t told them about it; not explicitly, at least, but there’s a small lilt in their voices when they talk to you sometimes that makes you think they already know. A little teasing, a little turned on.

“Been entertaining yourself?” Wooyoung asks you one day. “I’ll bet you have.”

Jongho manages to time a call just minutes after you finish; your face is still flushed and breathing still heavy when you pick up. “You look pretty,” he says. “I can make you even prettier soon.”

And Mingi—Mingi keeps it short. Your daily photos to Seonghwa have ended up extending to all of them. Feeling bold, you test the waters by sending one just after you finish; face red and sweaty, lips plush and glistening like you’ve been drooling. Mingi’s reply comes a few moments later.

You’d better have been thinking of us.

It’s a Thursday night a few days after their return, and you’re tucked up on the couch and just starting to doze off when your phone lights up with a call from a a familiar contact.

“Hi, honey,” Hongjoong greets. “Are you ready to start?”

The cafe you meet them in on Saturday is small and private; a little darker and more ambient than you’d expected, but it suits the purpose. They’re huddled into a booth in the far corner, waving you over when you spot you hovering nervously in the entrance.

Only four of them, you notice; not the eight you’d met the first time. They’re dressed down, clearly trying not to be recognised but they stand up and greet you with warm smiles that set your nerves a little more at ease.

Hongjoong is the first to speak; he often is, you’ve noticed. As much as they’re all equals, they seem to defer to him almost as a default, as much off camera as on. “Where would you like to sit?”

“Here is fine.” You gesture towards the empty space on the edge of the booth, next to Yeosang; you’re not scared of them or worried about today, far from it actually, but you know it’ll help you feel more at-ease, knowing there’s an easy out even if you never take it.

Jongho is next to him; opposite, Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Their gazes are fixed on you and just as heavy and intense as you remember them.

“Uh…” you start. “Where are the others?”

Hongjoong’s eyes flicker to the man next to him, then back. “We thought it’d be better if less of us came this time. To make it less overwhelming for you.”

“It’s something we should have considered last time,” Seonghwa adds. “We apologise that we didn’t.”

You smile, shaking your head. “No, it’s fine,” you say. You're glad to have met them all that first day; you won’t lie, though, and say you’re not a little relieved to not be facing down quite so many people today.

“It’s not,” Jongho says. “We should have asked about what you’d be comfortable with, at least. We won’t make that mistake again. Did you bring everything we asked you to?”

Oh, right. The list.

Hongjoong had asked you, on Thursday night on the phone, how you wanted to do this; if you wanted to take it slow, with more meetings and more time to think before doing anything, or if you wanted to “dive in,” as he put it. You’d chosen the latter with a lot more confidence than you’d anticipated.

You really have been needing this.

The list you pull from your pocket was texted to you by Hongjoong later; everything you’d need to bring today for the first few days of your new arrangement. “I think so,” you nod. Your eyes move down the list, checking off each item in your head. “Yes, I think I remembered it all.”

“We’ll see later,” Seonghwa smiles. “It’s not a problem if you didn’t, though. You tried your best and you’re new to this.”

The others hum in agreement and you smile, a little nervously. This was your first big ‘task’ from them, after all. You wanted to do it right. Show them you’re capable and worthy of their efforts. God, you hope you are—

Jongho’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts right on time; as if he somehow knew you were about to plunge in too deep. “You even wrote it all out, didn’t you?” He smiles, gesturing to the list in your hands. “Good girl.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Would you like me to explain the plan for this week?” Hongjoong asks gently.

You nod, suddenly anxious, and your gaze falls downwards to your lap where your hands are fiddling with the hem of your dress. A larger hand comes to rest atop them, holding them still and you look up to meet Yeosang’s firm gaze on you. His voice is gentle, calm, but the authority is unmistakable. “Look at him and answer him properly, sweetheart.”

Hongjoong is staring expectantly at you, when you finally meet his eyes. It’s the first time you’ve seen anything from him that felt like sternness. “Yes please,” you say.

He eases up, smiling again and you feel like a weight’s been lifted. God, you’re so receptive to them. So sensitive and eager to please.

“Good girl,” he says.

You bow your head again, embarrassed and Yeosang clicks his tongue, wordlessly chastising. You mutter an apology and force your eyes upwards again. “There we go,” Hongjoong praises. “Think of it as a trial run, yeah? We want you, we know that, but we need to see how it will work. What kind of arrangement will suit you best.”

“Okay,” you say. Yeosang releases your hands from his grip but you grab his arm as he starts to move away, needing someone to hold onto while you digest it all. He smiles, taking your hand back in his and squeezing it gently. “Good girl,” he murmurs.

“Are you with us so far?” Seonghwa asks.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he nods. “So for this week, we’ll all be getting to know each other better and getting used to our new dynamic. We’ll start figuring out the kind of submissive you are and the kind of training you’ll need. That make sense to you?”

You barely manage to get a response out this time, already feeling dazed. None of these words are new to you, exactly, not even in this context, but they’ve never felt so real before. So dark and forbidden and thrilling—to be spoken about like a pet, a submissive in need of training.

It’s a lot. It might even be everything.

Silence stretches, not uncomfortably, until you break it meekly, nervously. Yeosang squeezes your hand again, encouraging. “And the end of the week?” You ask. “What happens then?”

They share a look that you can’t quite decipher. They seem to have those a lot; the small, silent conversations that lie just out of your reach, but where you thought you’d feel excluded or out of the loop, you instead feel…secure. Cared for. Like everything, including yourself, is out of your hands and off of your shoulders.

Hongjoong looks like he knows exactly what’s going through your mind. “It’ll be up to you,” he tells you. “If you’re happy and you want to commit, you can stay with us. We’ll get you moved in and your room set up how you like. You’ll keep your own place, of course, but we’ll make our house your main residence.”

“But if you want to take it slower,” Jongho continues, “which is always an option, I might add, then we’ll take you home and continue getting to know you more casually, just like how you would in a normal relationship.”

“And of course, ending our arrangement entirely is an option too,” Yeosang adds. “At any time.”

The others voice their agreement and you smile gratefully. “Thank you,” you say. “I’ll remember that.”

“Any more questions?” Jongho asks.

Your answer comes blurted before you can really think on it. “I get my own room?”

“Of course,” Seonghwa chuckles. “You need your own space. We all do.”

“Right,” you nod.

He hums. “Well, if you’re ready, love,” he says, “there are four people at home who are waiting very patiently for your arrival.”

Their house is large, in a quieter area of the city but still central. Nothing to disturb you here, you think—and nothing to be disturbed by you.

Jongho takes your bag from the trunk without much effort; you try to help him, reaching to take it from his hands but he fixes you with a look so stern it almost sends a shiver down your spine. You back away, apologising, and he eases up again. “Good girl,” he says. “Go inside, I’ve got it.”

Seonghwa calls your name and holds his hand out for you to take. You’re halfway towards the door when it swings open suddenly; San is grinning at you, and it feels a little like a wolf baring its teeth.

“Hi, baby,” he beams.

“Were you watching from the window?” Seonghwa asks. San nods, unashamed, and the elder mumbles something under his breath that goes unacknowledged.

San is far too hungry to care—you see it on his face. Burning behind his eyes and practically emanating from his entire body. “I’ll take her in,” he tells Seonghwa. “Alright?”

“It’s her choice,” Seonghwa replies coolly. He smiles down at you. “She can make her own decisions for now.”

For now. The words, the implication, feel like fire on your skin. The way San’s eyes darken a little is impossible to ignore. The younger stretches his hand out, an offering, and you take it. “Are you coming too?” You ask Seonghwa.

“No,” he smiles. “You go on, we’re gonna get your room set up for you first. San’ll take care of you.”

You don’t doubt it; you nod, sure but still a little apprehensive and allow San to lead you inside and into the living room.

The set-up is…interesting, you think. A massive TV, large dark couches and armchairs set up in a crescent shape, and the coffee table shoved to the side. Like they were making room for something—something to be displayed.

You have little doubt as to what—who—that something will be. And you’ve never felt more like prey than you do at the mere sight of it.

The way Wooyoung’s smile widens when he spots you makes you even more certain as he stands up to greet you from where he’d been stretched out on the couch, intentions written on his face.

The dynamic of this house is clear just from the way he looks at you; the tension, thick, air getting hotter by the second, cementing what you already knew.

You’re theirs now. Theirs to do as they like with.

And that’s exactly how you want it.

Wooyoung’s voice comes deep, a little hoarse—affected. “There she is,” he grins. “Hi, doll.”

You wave shyly, throat suddenly too dry to do anything else, and his eyes flash. “Cute,” he mutters. “Bring her over here, Sannie.”

A strong arm snakes around your waist, pulling you over to the couch with just a little force; you go willingly, of course, but between the nerves and everything going on in your head right now, it’s taking a moment for your mind to catch up.

You’re in the middle of the two, now, pressed between them with nowhere to go. Close enough to see the tiny details of their skin. “Can I touch you?” Wooyoung asks.

“Yes,” you whisper.

He starts small, gentle; a hand pressed against your cheek. Explorative, tender; strength restrained. You keen into it, without realising, almost instinctual and he coos, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. “Good girl,” he purrs. “Sensitive puppy, aren’t you?”

Maybe, if you’d found the confidence to meet his gaze, you’d have seen the dark, predatory look in his eyes. Like he’s about to sink his teeth into you and is simply waiting for an opening. You whine his name, embarrassed, turning your face towards him to hide in his hand. They just laugh, shifting closer.

“She’s going under already,” San murmurs. “Such a natural, aren’t you baby?”

Another voice—cooler, distant—cuts in. “Already toying with her, are we?”

Yunho is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, faintly amused but otherwise expressionless. “I thought we agreed to wait.”

“I can’t help it,” Wooyoung replies. “She’s so pliant.”

Yunho’s eyebrow lifts, interested, and he takes a few steps towards you that feel a little like a predator closing in. “Is she?”

“Just so easy,” San affirms. “So small and sweet for it.”

“Control yourselves,” Yunho says, but the sternness in his voice is half-hearted. The sensations of the men beside you make you moan; the soft, hungry touches on your skin. God, San’s right. You go under so fast…

“Do you think she’s ready?”

You blink, Yunho’s words pulling you from the haze you’d started to slip away into. “Ready for what?”

They don’t answer; just smile gently at you then look back at each other. “I think so,” Wooyoung says. “Where’s Hongjoong?”

“Here.” Hongjoong emerges from another doorway, eyes finding you instantly. “Hi, bunny.”

You like that name; you feel your face heat up a little, enough to make the corners of his lips quirk in amusement. “Hi,” you squeak.

“What did you want me for?” He asks the others.

“We wondered if you think she’s ready yet,” Wooyoung replies.

Hongjoong is silent for a moment, a thoughtful expression before he speaks. “If Seonghwa thinks so,” he says, “then so do I.”

“I still don’t get it,” you mutter to no one in particular. Wooyoung pinches your cheek.

“Not very patient, are you?” He teases. “We’ll have to work on that.”

You flush in embarrassment, feeling a little chided and they look at you like they’ve never seen something so cute—or delectable.

When Yunho speaks again, his voice is rough and hoarse and almost shaking with desire. “Let’s get the others,” he says. “We’ve waited long enough.”

Wooyoung’s grip tightens around you like he’s holding you in place. You watch as Hongjoong disappears through the door again, off to find the others to do…whatever they’re planning, and this is the realest it’s ever felt. You’ve been waiting for weeks and now you’re finally on the cusp of it.

Your nerves are standing on their ends, silence stretching outwards. It’s tense and terrifying and everything you’ve been needing.

The sound of the others approaching sends you hurtling back down to the ground.

This is real. You have no idea what to expect—or what they expect.

What if you don’t measure up?

You must make a noise or some sign of distress; something to alert them of it, because suddenly there’s a hand in your hair, holding it gently then pulling hard enough to sting. It wakes you up from yourself and you grunt, meeting San’s eyes. They’re gentle; no hunger, no desire. Just care and concern and a softness you could get used to. “Hey,” he whispers. “No more thinking, puppy.”

“I…”

Wooyoung shushes you lowly, gently but with a firmness that’s unmistakable. “Pets don’t worry, baby. Everything will be fine. No expectations. You just follow our lead, we’re in control now.”

You say nothing, but the tension fades; fear subsiding enough to breathe. “That’s it,” San coos. “Good baby. Don’t think. Just obey.”

Then you’re on your feet, pulled up by the two men without a word. You notice, now, that everyone’s here. The living room is spacious enough that you don’t feel too crowded—but damn if you don’t feel surrounded. Like a prey among predators.

Hongjoong beckons you towards him with two fingers. He’s smiling, as he was before, but there’s something different to it now, something that wasn’t there before; an intention, a desire. A hunger that chills you to the core.

It’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating.

And you’ve willingly put yourself in his hands, all their hands, and you’re desperate to see what they do with it.

You approach him with small, hesitant steps. He doesn’t rush you; just waits for you to come then points to the floor in front of him. “Here,” he says firmly. “On your knees.”

You obey, eager for his approval but he doesn’t speak even once you’re in position. He just watches you—they all do. The silence rests heavy on you. Hongjoong breaks it softly, quietly, like pebbles in water.

“When did we meet you?” He asks. “For the first time. How long ago was it?”

The question takes you aback; it feels random, without reason and…obvious? You don’t know. “Um.” You frown. “Maybe three weeks.”

You’re not sure why he’s asking that so suddenly, but you decide to just go with it. They have a plan, clearly; perhaps you don’t need to know it.

“Three weeks,” Hongjoong repeats. “Yes, that sounds about right. And we’ve talked to you, during that time. Talked a lot about this dynamic we’re building together. What it would look like. Correct?”

You nod. He taps your cheek just hard enough to make you wince. “Words.”

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Yes, we talked about it a lot.”

“Which means you’re familiar with our expectations,” he says. “You’ve no excuse tonight, then, do you?”

Oh. Your stomach twists at the thought; at the finality and warning in his tone. At the haze of submission approaching on the horizon.

“No,” you reply.

“Then we’re clear.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” His hand grips your jaw without pressure or force, but the control and authority in his touch is such that you doubt you could break free of it if you wanted to. He doesn’t move or speak; just watches you for a moment, like he’s admiring his prize. “Perfect,” he gruffs. “Perfect, pretty thing.”

“Joong,” you whimper.

His grip tightens a little. “Sir,” he corrects. “Watch your manners.”

“Sorry, sir.”

He hums; it’s silent for a moment, his eyes flicking across your face and body like a silent inspection. He tilts your chin upwards a little more.

“You know well by now what we like,” he says. He thumbs at your bottom lip, not quite pushing into your mouth. “We like obedience. Control. Submission. You’ll learn to please us properly, learn the choices that make us happy. You’ll learn to surrender.”

You say nothing, not making a sound even as his thumb presses past your lips. He raises an eyebrow, like he’s waiting to see what you do, but you do nothing. Just let his thumb press in further, and let it sit.

The right choice, apparently. “Good girl,” he mutters.

“Look at that.” Yeosang’s voice is low, distant, a little awed. “So obedient already. Fingers in her mouth but she’s still not sucking them without permission.”

Hongjoong hums, appreciative and taps your cheek with his other hand. “You’re naturally good, aren’t you?” He smiles. “Just untrained. You’ll be a lot of fun.”

“I hope so, sir.”

He nods. His voice dips slightly. “The rules for tonight,” he says. “Verbal answers, unless we tell you not to speak. You obey without hesitation. You call us sir. You ask for permission. Understand?”

“Yes sir,” you whisper.

He tugs at your chin, harsh enough to make you hiss in pain. “Louder, girl.”

“Yes sir,” you repeat. He nods, satisfied, and pats your hair.

“On your feet,” he says. Your legs wobble a little as you stand up, already unsteady from the short time you’d spent on your knees; he’s quick to take hold of you, steadying you until he’s certain you’re stable then letting go. “Good.” He points to the middle of the room, where the coffee table would have been. “Over there.”

Seonghwa is next to speak; his voice is softer and gentler than Hongjoong’s but the air of authority is just as firm. “We’d like to give you a little test,” he says. “It’s not a test you can fail, and it’s not to see if we want you—for this week, at least, you’re already ours. It’s to see how much you can take, what kind of training you‘ll need. Yeah?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good,” he says. “Undress and put your clothes on the chair over there, then come back. You can leave your panties on. Do it now.”

Your response is shuddered, quiet, but you do as he commands. Your hands shake a little as you reach to unbutton your shirt, but you manage to get it done; your skirt is next, then your bra until all that’s left are your tiny white panties clinging to your hips.

You feel their eyes on you as you take your clothes over to the table; following you like stalked prey. You feel—you are—exposed and vulnerable like this, practically nude and surrounded by eight fully clothed men, but you don’t mind it.

You like it, actually. There’s something thrilling to it; something forbidden. It makes your body pulse in delightful submission.

“Very good,” Hongjoong says, tone approving. His gaze finds your chest, running across the bare skin without hint of subtlety. Instinctively your hands reach to cover yourself, but you think better of it—in the nick of time, it seems, if the anger that flares briefly in their eyes is anything to go by.

“Smart girl,” Seonghwa chuckles. “You’ll learn not to hide yourself. Not from us. You don’t have the right to anymore.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Right then.” Seonghwa claps his hands, sound cutting through the silence and making you jump in surprise. You hear laughter, soft; if your eyes weren’t cast downwards still you’d see their eyes flash, too, at the small flicker of fright evident in your posture. “We’ll start with some commands, alright? We’ll see which ones you know already, and we’ll teach you the ones you don’t.”

“Yes sir.”

“Look at me.”

You obey, lifting your gaze into his and he nods, satisfied. He clicks his fingers. “Down.”

It takes a second to register, your head a little floaty and by the time it does it’s clearly too late; Seonghwa sighs, seeming disappointed and nods to a man behind you. Then there’s a looming presence and five painful slaps against the practically bare skin of your ass. You yelp, trying to escape but the man snakes his other arm around your waist, pulling you backwards to hold your body taut against his.

“Disobeying already,” he breathes. You recognise Wooyoung’s voice, but the playfulness, even the teasing it normally has is gone. You whimper involuntarily and he slaps you again; this time it lands on the front of your thigh, heavy and stinging. “Don’t whine,” he orders.

“Sorry sir,” you breathe. He hums, rubbing the blooming pink mark on your thigh with a momentary tenderness. “No more talking, I think,” he says. “I’m in the mood for a nice, quiet puppy now.”

Jongho comes to stand in front of you; he tilts your jaw upwards with one hand, peering down at you expressionlessly. Wooyoung keeps his firm grip on your waist, holding you in place and stopping you from squirming away from their attention as you’re sometimes wont to do.

“This is your first lesson,” Jongho says. “When we say down, you get on your knees. Instantly and without question. If you don’t, you’ll be punished. So let’s try that again. Down.”

The second Wooyoung lets go, you fall to your knees, desperate to please now—to show them that you can and want to obey them. Jongho smiles, pressing a hand to your cheek and letting you nuzzle briefly against it. ”Good dog,” he praises. “Up.”

You’ve sprung to your feet before your mind has caught up; the pleased looks on their faces is as satisfying as any reward. “Clever girl,” San praises.

Jongho steps away, back towards the others surrounding you; you do your best to stay still, quiet—you figure that’s the best way to avoid Wooyoung’s heavy hand for now.

“Come,” Yeosang calls. He stops you with a raised hand before you can take the first step. “I don’t think so. Crawl.”

Oh. His voice drops deliciously on the final word and it hits you in the deepest parts of your body. You try to keep a semblance of grace as you lower yourself to your knees but you feel your entire body shaking with excitement; with the thrill of being spoken to and treated like this after so long.

It’s only a few feet on carpeted floor, but the weight of their stares on you makes it feel like miles, knees rubbed raw. Yeosang watches you approach like you’re a tiny mouse he’s lured into a trap.

“Sit,” he orders. You shuffle back up onto your knees and he rests a gentle hand on your hair. “She’s learning fast.”

The others hum in agreement. “She’s clever,” Mingi says, sounding proud.

“She is,” Yeosang says. “Alright, pet. The next ones are easy. Eyes up.”

This time they give you a second to figure it out; you don’t need it, really, feeling in the swing of it by now, but you’ll take what little leeway you can get. You meet Yeosang’s gaze with hopeful eyes and he nods. “Eyes down.” That one’s easier; you drop your gaze back down, contrite and obedient and perfect, if you say so yourself.

“Good girl,” he coos. “Isn’t she good, guys?”

“The best,” Yunho purrs. You’re so wrapped up in Yeosang’s attention that you hardly register the large, looming presence behind you until two big hands come to rest on your throat. There’s no pressure in his touch, no force—just surety. Surety that you’re his, theirs, because you want to be. That you’ll accept their touches and attentions and take everything they give you because you want it.

“I reckon she’s earned a reward,” Yunho says. “Being such a good puppy for us.”

You hear low, approving voices, chiming their agreement; Hongjoong’s voice comes like honey in your ears. “You’re right,” he agrees. “Come here, pup.”

You crawl a little faster now, more confident; he crouches down to your level and holds his arms out for you to crawl into. He lets you snuggle into his chest for a moment, a brief reward, then pulls back. He cradles your face in his hands, keeping your eyes on him.

“Tell me, baby,” he murmurs. “How do you want to be rewarded?”

“Fuck me.” It comes out before you can think on it, your body speaking for itself without your mind’s assent; at his raised eyebrows you tack on a whined “please, sir.”

His thumb presses against your lip again and pushes in. “Suck,” he says. You do; he looks enamoured by the sight. “You’re not ready for dick, precious,” he says. “Just a puppy still.”

“No, I’m ready,” you insist, nodding fervently.

Wrong move.

You see his gaze harden into iron from inches away, grip tightening on your face. Silence stretches. His hand collides with your cheek before you even see him raise it.

The hit is quick, wordless; casual, like this is a normal way for him to express his displeasure. Maybe it is. You whine, wincing away from him and he snarls, hitting you again. “Don’t you run from us,” he grunts. “And don’t ever challenge our authority. What you think doesn’t matter anymore. You’re not ready.”

“Sorry, sir,” you gasp. Your head is spinning a little, cheek throbbing from the force of his slap. “I’m not ready.”

“That’s right,” he purrs. “See. You can obey.”

“Yes sir.”

He hums. “You’ll learn to turn that brain off for us. Soon enough you won’t even remember how to talk back. Turn around and show me your ass.”

Fear pulses briefly and pleasantly as you turn, facing down the others who are watching you with what feels like something between fascination and scrutiny. Following your every move and ready to strike if it’s the wrong one. You’re ready for the slap, anticipating it; you’ve spoken out of turn, after all—you’ve displeased him. His hands aren’t the largest but you know they’re plenty large and strong enough to leave a mark. You felt it in the slaps he’d delivered to your face—the restraint held firm but fraying at the edges.

Hongjoong can make it hurt. They all can.

But right now, he doesn’t.

He runs a slender finger down your back like he’s savouring the skin, down across your ass and grazing over your pussy. It makes you squirm; a jolt of electricity down your spine at the sensation. He hums, not sounding affected but rather interested; clinical, almost. Like he’s inspecting you.

Two fingers slide under your panties and push them to the side then press slowly into your heat. It’s a stretch, only just noticeable above the haze, and he shushes your soft whimper with a tenderness you can hardly rectify with that dark, predatory look in his eyes; in their eyes.

You’re realising now just how much sharpness and softness go hand in hand with them.

Seonghwa’s voice comes distantly, faintly; like you’re floating in a bubble and he’s peering in from outside of it. “How does she feel, Joong?”

“She’s perfect,” Hongjoong says from behind you. “Tight and warm like we thought she’d be.”

God, the way they talk about you… it’s degrading and objectifying in the best way—everything about this is hotter than you imagined, their touches like fire on your skin and they know it.

He curls his finger, just a little but it sends a shockwave through you; you jolt forwards, unable to control yourself and he wraps a strong arm around your neck to pull you backwards into him. “Easy, girl,” he whispers. “Easy.”

“So squirmy,” Mingi coos. “She’ll need a firm hand.”

“She’ll learn to stay still.” You hear the grin in Hongjoong’s voice as he pushes in deeper, slipping a third finger past your folds and making you squeal. “Won’t you, pretty?”

“Ye-ah, yes sir,” you gasp.

They’re inching towards you now, closing in on you until you’re completely trapped. Their expressions differ slightly, some enamoured, some hungry, some clouded with pure lust—but they’re all completely, entirely focused on you. On the way Hongjoong pulls you apart like he’s done it a thousand times before.

The arm on your throat moves away and you fall back onto all fours; Seonghwa crouches down to catch your face in his hands, rubbing your flushed, wet cheeks.

Fuck, when did you start crying? How out of it are you?

Mingi and San disappear in your peripherals, then there’s more hands on your ass, running over the soft skin with heavy, lingering touches.

Hongjoong spreads his fingers, opening your hole up for them to see and you feel the shift in energy behind you as they take you in. “Fuck,” Mingi grunts. “The prettiest little pussy.”

“So cute and puffy,” San croons. He runs a finger—you think it’s his, anyway—through your wet folds then eases one past Hongjoong’s and into your hole.

San’s fingers are thicker than Hongjoong’s; a little longer, and when he puts in a second and the older man pulls his hand away you feel just as full as before. Mingi’s just watching; on his feet again and towering over you. If you tilted your head back just a little bit you’d see it; the look on his face that says he’s about to demolish you.

The others are watching—just watching—as San works you open and Seonghwa slips two long fingers into your mouth. “Suckle, baby,” he murmurs. “Show me how you use your mouth.”

He doesn’t give you much of a chance, in reality; his movements are fast, fingers pushing in and out at his own pace. It’s hard to take, it’s been a while since you’ve had your mouth used like this after all, but you do your best; he rewards your efforts with whispered praises barely audible above the sounds of wet, of the men playing with your holes and your body’s response to it.

“Gonna have to train your throat,” Seonghwa says. “Learn to take us all the way.”

Your eyes are watery again, brimming with fresh tears every time he forces his fingers to the back and chokes you on them. It clouds your head and blurs your vision until you can scarcely make out the scene in front of you; can scarcely tell the men apart as they watch you come undone.

Yeosang’s voice, though, is unmistakable; smooth velvet above the haze. “Harder, Seonghwa,” he says. “I wanna see her drooling.”

“Hear that?” Seonghwa chuckles. “You gonna drool for us, puppy? Get your slobber all over the carpet like a good little girl?”

Your response, muffled by his fingers, seems to be good enough; he presses a kiss to your forehead that’s so tender you barely notice his hand closing around your neck. He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours and his voice comes low. “That’s it,” he whispers. “Stop breathing for me. Let sir do it for a while.”

The pressure is pleasant, building slowly; you feel the precision and care in the way he holds you, the way he pulls you over the line in just the right way. Strength on the sides of your neck and tenderness atop your throat; careful not to push too far in the wrong direction. At this point you’re not sure which feeling, which hole to focus on.

The feeling of a finger circling your rim makes it an easier decision; this, you can’t ignore. You’ve never done this before; never explored that side of things. But one of them, apparently, has decided you will.

Mingi’s other hand comes to rest on your hip as he speaks. “Good girl. Ease up for me, let me in. You’ll get used to it.”

“She doesn’t have a choice,” Yunho adds. “Jongho’s favourite hole, isn’t it?”

You don’t know where Jongho is, can’t quite figure out where any of them are at this point; but the sound of his breath hitching tells you he’s dangerously close. “Yeah,” he gruffs. “It is.”

Mingi’s finger slips in slowly, teasingly; careful and steady enough to almost feel pleasant. You look up with pleading eyes—though for what exactly you’re not so sure—and find Yunho looming above the eldest member with an iron gaze. You whine around Seonghwa’s fingers, gagging a little and you feel the drool running down your chin and to the floor. Yunho’s jaw ticks. “Don’t tempt me,” he warns. “I’ll ruin you.”

You just whine again, almost petulant this time. Yunho’s eyebrow lifts. “Jongho,” he grits. “Put a finger in.”

Jongho doesn’t hesitate; doesn’t even pretend to. He pushes his finger in next to Mingi and matches his pace in a way that’s dizzying. Your whimpers have turned to sobs to full on cries, but Yunho seems unmoved. Satisfied, even.

“Naughty puppies get stretched,” he says simply. “Without prep, without pleasure. Remember that.”

You’re not certain how, even in a million years, you could ever be supposed to forget now.

It’s a punishment, you know that; a direct consequence for and lesson against getting too bold with them. But the pain and stretch you know is meant to teach you, to humiliate you, burns deliciously in your gut and you don’t want it to stop.

Maybe it’s the newness of it all, physically and mentally; the resistance your tight hole puts up against them. Or maybe it is the humiliation; the degradation of knowing every one of your holes is open for and owned by these men—and that you, sick little thing that you are, enjoy it.

You’ve never felt this before, though; you know that. You know it in every single way it’s possible to know something.

You’ve never felt this before. You’ve never even dreamed of it.

Seonghwa’s voice cuts suddenly through the fog. “Think you can come soon?” He asks.

You nod, desperate, and he makes a noise of satisfaction. You realise at some point that the others have retreated; only Seonghwa, Jongho and Mingi remain, the others back on the couches but still watching you just as intently. And the layout of the room means that they’re still surrounding you, still caging you in against the wall like perfect prey.

You feel…displayed.

You feel like a toy.

“San,” Seonghwa calls. “Come here and work on her pussy. She hasn’t learned to come from her ass yet.”

Yet. Seonghwa must catch the way your eyes widen some, pupils dilating; his focused expression twists into a small, knowing smile. His voice is crooning, patronising, like he knows exactly what’s happening in your head and loves it.

“That’s right,” he says. “We’re gonna train you to come just from having your ass full. You’re gonna learn to come every time we tell you to.”

Your body burns with need; with the waves and fires of climax approaching in the distance. Another hand comes to rest on your hips and you hear San’s low, calm voice as he pushes his fingers into you again.

You can’t quite make out the words but oh, the way he says them; so tender and so sadistic at the same time. Minimising your suffering as much as possible but enjoying the pieces of it that remain.

You feel the pressure mounting in your belly; your walls clenching around him, each movement felt more deeply and completely than the last. You know what this means; the mounting sensitivity, body reacting to every small movement—you’re close. But you won’t cross the line without their permission.

You want to be good for them. You’re going to be perfect.

“She’s breaking,” San says. His voice is distant, like you’re underwater. You gurgle around Seonghwa’s fingers when he forces them to the back of your throat again. “I can feel it. Tightening around me.”

The fingers in your ass are pulled out and you cry out in shock; your awareness of them had slipped as San worked you apart, but the emptiness without them is profound. Mingi coos and runs a finger across your flushed skin. “Shh,” he soothes. “Greedy baby. Let San break you, honey. Gonna feel so good.”

A strong arm tucks under your thighs and forces them together, tugging them towards him; with your legs clenched and immobilised everything is heightened, everything is too much but at the same time it’s not enough, it could never be enough, you’re going to—

“Come,” Seonghwa orders.

And you do. Your entire body convulses as your climax rips through you like a blast of hot air. You scream, still gagged by Seonghwa’s fingers as he coaxes you through it; your legs tense as you spill out all over San and then collapse forwards, caught in Seonghwa’s arms before you can hit the floor. He pulls his fingers out and wipes them off on your tear-stained cheeks. He’s speaking to you, they both are, but you can’t pull the words apart into something coherent.

You can’t really do anything right now. You feel like…like…

Like you. You feel like you in a way that you haven’t in years.

And you know, in that moment, that you’re going to stay with them. You’re going to sign that contract—you’d sign seven hundred thousand of them if it meant you could feel like this again.

The last thing you’re conscious of is the feeling of your soaked panties being pulled back into place before your eyes close and you drift away, fucked out and exhausted in their arms.

Seonghwa lifts you up and into San’s lap, manoeuvring your limbs like a fragile doll. “Careful,” he mutters. “Gentle with her now.”

“Of course,” San mumbles. He presses a kiss to your sweat-soaked forehead as he settles your sleeping body in his hold. “She did so well,” he says. “I’ll take her to bed now. She earned it.”

“She did,” Seonghwa smiles. “This is going to be so much fun.”

chapter two!!! because this was a short, introductory session for her, i wasn’t able to keep focus on all the members, however they will all be playing main roles in this work and so will all have at least one scene focused on them each. i plan on writing various scenes with different pairings, smaller groups and individuals. you’re welcome to let me know anything/anyone you’d like to see in particular!

taglist (comment on the masterpost to be tagged!): @pixie0627 @pinuspot @sitycc @m00njinnie @tunafishyfishylike @0mrrp @calilovesdilfs @happymochiland @nijisanjigenshin @diekleinesuesse @honghwalvr @paramedicnerd004 @luvlyfandoms @heeheehahahoohoo @herpoetryprincess @d3kstar

reblogs, comments and feedback are very appreciated. love🖤🖤🖤

[mifvyfilms]

Hi hi! Love your works and how you characterize every character you write! Could you write something with Kaji and an f!reader who doesn’t initiate things first?

As in, who won’t initiate hugs or kisses or cuddling without him asking first? It’d be interesting to see how he’d react to that behavior when other girls would be more pushy, and how he’d learn to communicate he’d want these things.

Take your time and rest well!

── .✦ KAJI REN: hug me back .ᐟ

(a/n: AWW TSYM ILY MWAH MWAH ₍₍⚞(˶˃ ꒳ ˂˶)⚟⁾⁾)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ IN WHICH, he wants you to stop asking and just do it .

⊹ fluff, relationship established ᝰ kaji x fem! reader

── YOU HAD GIVEN kaji a box filled with lollipops so he would never run out—or, it would take him at least a few months to finish.

as your boyfriend, he tried his best to show affection, though he cringes at doing it a lot. he gives you a hug, unable to thank you enough because you somehow knew his lollipop stash was running low.

his arms were around you, but you didn't hug back.

instead, you ask him, unsure of where to put your arms. “do you want me to hug you back?"

kaji looks at you, his arms still around your waist. "what do you think?"

you shrug nonchalantly. "i don't know; that's why i’m asking you."

he’s confused. he’s confused about why you don't just hug him. one thing he's noticed about you ever since you both started dating is that you don't initiate any hugs or kisses.

many girlfriends would run up to their boyfriend and give them a kiss on the cheek. however, the most you did was cling onto his arm.

"i want you to hug me back." he sighs, feeling you slowly embrace him in your arms. it’s a nice feeling; he wishes he could feel this every day.

"(name)," he calls, his chin resting on your shoulder.

you hum in response.

"why don't you hug me?" he asks, and you look up at him.

"what do you mean? i’m hugging you right now?" you were confused about what he meant by that.

kaji sighs, "you always ask. you ask me to cuddle, to kiss, to hug… why don't you just do it anyway?"

you let go of him. "i thought you'd be uncomfortable if i suddenly did that. you flinch every time i come near you while you're isolated within your headphones."

"well, that's because i have my volume up, and you're quiet." he clears his throat. "you don't have to ask me for permission."

your head tilts slightly. "so, if i give you a kiss out of nowhere, you wouldn't mind?"

"maybe not out of nowhere… but just when it's us two. stop with the questions and just hug me back." he grabs a lollipop from the box and unwraps it, plopping it into his mouth.

he turns away from you for a moment before feeling something on his cheek.

your lips.

you remove your lips from his cheeks and notice his neck to his ears turn red. "so, if i kiss you like that, you wouldn't mind?"

he bites his bottom lip, feeling heat rush all over his face. "as long as you're not asking."

"do you want me to tell you i love you?"

"that’s asking, (name).”

"i love you."

© MIFVYFILMS please do not copy, repost as your own, or translate MASTERLIST

[cod-bin]

sub!simon headcanons 18+

a/n: this is basically inspired by this post from @rawme-price i read that and physically ascended that’s the usual reaction when i see sub!simon

— praise ruins him. doesn’t matter what you’re doing—say “you’re doing so well for me” and he’ll actually whimper. he never knew words could feel better than touch until you started calling him your good boy.

— quiet when it counts. simon’s huge, intimidating, all that hard-edged energy—but in moments like this? he goes silent. lips parted, breath shallow, eyes begging. like he’s holding it in, waiting for permission to fall apart.

— trembles when you’re in control. not fear—overwhelm. the kind that makes his fingers twitch against the sheets while he watches your every move, wide-eyed and needy.

— touch-starved in ways he doesn’t admit. his whole body leans into your hands. he melts when you hold his jaw, when you run your fingers through his hair, when you kiss his throat slow like he’s something to treasure.

— lets you guide everything. positions. rhythm. pace. you move his hands where you want them and he follows without hesitation. he doesn’t want to guess—he wants to please.

— desperate for softness. he’s used to sex being performance, control, noise. with you, it’s quiet. slow. gentle. it hits him hard—how much he likes it. how much he needs it.

— eye contact is a death sentence. look him in the eye and whisper that he’s yours and he’ll genuinely lose it. gets overwhelmed fast and tries to blink it back but you always see it.

— clings when he finishes. arms around your waist, face buried in your neck, body shaking as he comes down. like if he lets go of you he might lose himself.

—asks if he was okay. voice rough, cheeks flushed, still catching his breath. “was that alright?” like he didn’t just give you everything.

— wants to be kept. not used. not idolized. kept. like he’s someone you come home to, someone you care for. and when you tell him that’s exactly what he is—he believes you.

☆taglist☆

@hate-conquers-all-2 @blobfishbumblebee @little-mini-me-world @eremika104 @trixilove257 @diseasedclitoris @unusefullammount @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lostintransist @ghostsd8s @avgdestitute @h0lydrag0ns @poshestpigeon @fertilise-me @tessakate

join in bio

[chimivx]

stray kids and... their reaction to you finishing without permission...

requested by; anon <3 thank you!! xo

This... this was fun, mwahaha. I got carried away a bit, forgive me, sometimes my consistency is off. But, nevertheless, we persevere. Enjoy! <3

warnings; 18+, dom/sub, brat, straight smut, most of them are degrading and mean, jeongins involves slapping, there's use of degrading names in every part, seungmins involves safe word usage... if i missed anything let me know please!

my request masterlist •°. *࿐

bang chan • He laughs. It happened because of you. It was your fault. She was in no way shape or form flirting with him, but you saw Minho, you saw the way he looked at her, like she was doing something wrong… Was she doing something wrong? You were more than willing to help cook, to help clean, to help set up, to help welcome everyone inside. Your boyfriend hosted the dinner party, you were his girlfriend, weren’t you supposed to do it together? Why did she step in and take over your role? Why did Chan allow her to push you to the side? Wallowing in pouts for the night, seeking sanctuary with Felix and his girlfriend who also thought it was weird… You didn’t realize Chan had his sights on you all night. And by the time everyone left, and it was just the two of you in the kitchen, and he had finally asked you what was wrong… He had you bent over the counters before you could finish but three sentences.

“That’s why you were in a bad mood all night? She’s a friend, she wanted to help. Did you feel the same when Jisung collected plates for me? You know, you could’ve just stepped in and helped.”

He had his hands on your waist, your skirt hiked up your hips, his teeth tearing into your neck, his thick cock filling from behind, the kitchen that had once been full of friends laughter now echoed with moans, whines, skin on skin…

“You didn’t need fucking permission, I’m tired of this jealous shit. You need to be told what to do? Huh? Is that it?” His words, his tone, his body, his hands that traveled up and down to tweak your nipples and toy with your clit– he drove you insane. You were beginning to forget what you were arguing about. “Need someone to order you around and put you in your place? Can you even listen?” Your moan was answer enough, he laughed. “Should we give it a try?” He nibbled your earlobe. “Don’t cum. Matter of fact, you’re not allowed to until I say so.”

“Chan, wait,” you gasped, reaching back for him. You were already dangerously close, there was no way you were holding it until he said go. “I don’t, I can’t, there’s no-”

He took a hand to your neck, pulling you back, looking down at you. His brows were furrowed, his lips pursed, his eyes black. “What, now you don’t wanna listen? You too much of a fucking brat? I give you what you want, and it’s still not fucking enough?”

You tightened around him and he smirked. “Chan, p-please-”

“Shit, baby, you can’t do it, can you,” he teased, “Can’t even be good for me, can’t listen to me? Can’t even give me that? Pussy so good I wanted to fill it up first, fuck. Then would you believe me? You think I want anything other than this?” He whined, “You’re insane, listen to yourself, I wish you could feel this, fuck, so tight, so wet, you’re such a slut, baby– Hah!”

If he wasn’t holding onto you, you would’ve crumbled to the floor with how your knees gave out. You swore you saw white, stars, god, you didn’t know and you didn’t care, by the time you came back you’d been swept up in his arms, on your way to the bedroom.

“I couldn’t do it,” you whispered, and he smiled at you.

Pressing a kiss to your cheek, kicking the bedroom door closed, he said, “S’okay, baby. Needed you to feel better.” He set you down on the mattress and pulled off his shirt. Climbing over you, lying you down, he nipped at your lips. “Now,” his eyes sharpened and the energy shifted, “You don’t cum unless I fucking say so.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

minho • He degrades you. You pissed him off, what else was he supposed to do? You know he doesn’t like it when you give someone else attention that very well belongs to him, and that’s what you did. Parading around Chan’s apartment like you were his girlfriend and lived there instead, helping him cook dinner, knowing where everything was in the kitchen, helping to set the table… In your defense, you were being polite. To Minho? You were on your knees letting Chan throatfuck you for the entire group to watch. Arguing about it the whole way home did you no favors. In a matter of minutes you were stripped naked and spread out on his mattress where he turned you into a blabbing mess of excuses and pleas and whines brought to the edge too many times… By the time he had you sideways, one leg between his and the other over his shoulder, his cock buried deep inside of you… 

“You slut,” he huffed, glaring down at you as you writhed with pleasure, hands grasping onto his sheets, his pillows, his thighs, whatever you could reach. “Can’t even do the one fucking thing I told you to do, hold it.”

Gasping, you cried, “I tried! I tried! Minho, please.”

“Nah,” he groaned, grabbing onto your waist to flip you completely face down, “You filthy brat, how am I supposed to believe you?” He slid a hand down to grab the back of your neck, pushing you into the pillows, he snapped his hips once, laughed at your whine, then set his pace relentlessly. “You want him, don’t you? Can’t do anything I say, anything I ask, but for him, I bet you’d do anything.”

“No! Want you, just you!”

Minho smirked, planting one foot on the bed, caging you between his knee and his hip. “Think he thought it too, I see the way he looks at you.” The bed creaked. His words are nearly lost between your cries. “I told him once, yanno, what a cockslut you can be. Nothing but a bitch to fuck, a hole to fill. Bet he thought a slut like you would take him to his bedroom and show him it only takes you mere minutes to cum.”

“Only you c-can do that-”

Minho grabbed your hair and thrust you head backward, his lips pressing to your ear. “You’re right,” he grumbled. “‘Cause who’s fucking slut are you?” Lips parted, eyebrows flipped, voice broken, you tried to answer him but a moan came out instead. Wrapping both arms around you, Minho pulled you against his chest, slipping one hand down your belly to twist his fingers over your clit. Your legs shook and smiled. “My fucking slut,” he sang, “Who never fucking listens!”

“Yes,” you gasped, head lolling back onto his shoulder. Body going entirely pliant, he held you up. You were his to use. 

“Shoulda told him you know it, too,” Minho snickered, “Right, baby?”

“Yes.”

“What are you?”

“I’m your slut…”

Minho caught your parted lips with his, the kiss messy, your tongue lobbing out to press against his. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, and he shook his head.

“Don’t be,” he muttered, grunting as his hips stuttered, “You’re mine, we know that. Just don’t… fucking cum again.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

changbin • He makes it a game. What started as a silly gym challenge, a little competition between the two of you, turned into so much more than it should’ve. Your boyfriend was the gym rat here, you came along sometimes for moral support, if you were feeling shitty, or just to spend time with him. Work’s been slow, so you were gifted an extra couple of days off which just so happened to line up with Changbin’s… And the games began. Convinced that the gym did more for the human body than sex, the exertion, the release, the endorphines… Changbin took you up on a bet, that the two of you didn’t need to get down and dirty if the gym did it for you. Henceforth creating a monster at home, one that smacked your ass when your shorts were revealing, one that wandered around shirtless with his sweats hanging low on his hips, one that pressed his hard, achy cock against your thighs while you tried to fall asleep… He wanted you to win. He really did. You were adamant it would work… You just weren’t sure when it all turned into you not being allowed to cum at all… 

Beside him now, in a compression tank and shorts, breathing through your exercises, not letting your eyes wander over to him lifting weights in the mirror, his own tank too tight over his chest… You’re reminded of the night before, waking up to whimpers. Not his, but your own. Eyes fluttering open in the dark of your bedroom, you’re met with his cheeky smile and darkened eyes. Your legs were wrapped around him, you almost laid on top of him, and as you came to, you realized how wet you were. Cheeks flushing, you gasped, and he laughed. You were grinding yourself against his thigh. Trying to pull away, ‘cause you would win this bet, he held you close, not letting you escape. He had one hand down his sweats.

He had whispered, “Keep going, bunny. One day left, let yourself have it,” but you refused. You took him down your throat instead, swallowing him, letting him live with the craze of not being able to have you though he knew you were soaked.

If this week taught you anything, it’s that you were wrong. You were very, very wrong.

The gym had a plethora of benefits, both mental and physical, but it could not, and it never would, be able to replace sex.

Or, maybe your boyfriend was just too hot.

You tore your eyes from his clenched jaw and heaving chest, the sight forcing your thighs to squish together.

You needed to win. You would win. If you didn't, you’d never hear the end of it.

Gulping down water from a bottle, you tossed it to the floor and took yourself to the pull up bar, facing away from Changbin. Taking some calculated deep breaths you glanced upward and jumped, grabbing onto the bar, securing your grip. Behind you, Changbin shouted something your way, but you couldn’t hear him over the music, so you continued on.

You’d ignore him, you’d work out, you’d go home, you’d go to bed, you’d wake up tomorrow, and you would win.

After a few reps, you dropped to the floor for a breath and stretched.

“You going back up there?” Changbin shouted.

Turning around, finding him facing you, squatted beside the weights, you nodded, and he laughed.

“More arms, or abs?” he asked, and you made a face, one that made him smirk.

“Abs, now leave me alone,” you waved him away and jumped back up onto the bar.

His smirk could be heard in his voice. “Nah, I’m gonna watch.”

“Fine,” you sighed, and went to work.

With a sturdy grip, you straightened your legs and pulled them up out in front of you, letting them back down with careful control. These were your favorite, they felt good. You did two more lifts and readjusted your grip, feeling your strength waver for a moment. Two more, yes. Two more, your brain thanked you. Two more, your stomach… filled with butterflies. Weird, but just keep going, a few more sets… Two more, your stomach muscles contracted and a whine slipped through your lips… Arms shaking, you sucked down a breath and lifted your legs one more time–

Your hands slipped from the bar. Dropping toward the floor, Changbin caught you from behind, pulling you into him as your body shook and euphoria coursed through your veins. Grabbing onto his arms, fingers digging into his skin, you withheld yourself from making a sound and melted into him, clenching around nothing, cumming entirely untouched, in the middle of the gym while exercising.

“You okay?” Changbin whispered in your ear, too smug to care.

Glaring at him, you whispered, “You wanted to watch.”

He laughed. “I knew it was gonna happen, bunny, you need to be fucked.” Your cheeks burned. Giving you a quick kiss, he smiled. You pouted. “I know,” he said gently, “You lost.”

“Did not,” you whined.

Changbin narrowed his eyes. “Did too,” he bumped your nose with his. “You gonna be a brat about it?” Your expression didn’t change, nor did you answer him. He took his arms from around you and pointed to your things on the floor. “Let’s go.” Even the gym couldn’t fix his short fuse. “Get your stuff. We’re leaving, and if you don’t wipe that look off your face, I swear to…”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

hyunjin • He guides you through it. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, hasn’t gotten his dick wet, he made you cum on his tongue. But, you broke the rules. You weren’t allowed to cum until he said, until he gave you permission, but each swirl of his warm tongue, his hot breath teasing you, his plump lips sucking your clit, drinking your arousal… He sends you to nirvana every time. Was it so criminal to forget you were being punished?

Without a word he sits back on his heels, licking his lips as he looks up at you from the floor. He watches you come down, eyes blinking back to reality, remembering where you were, what you were doing, and with one glance at him from the couch cushions, at his tiny smirk and darkened eyes, you lurch forward with a gasp.

“No,” Hyunjin said quietly.

“No, no, no, wait, I didn’t-“

“You forgot,” his eyes sharpened and you nodded. He huffed through a snicker. Sitting forward, both of his hands slipped behind your knees, pushing you open further. “Greedy,” he whispers, placing a kiss to the inside of your hip, “Doesn’t even apologize,” he kissed the inside of the other, then dipped his head over your core, pursing his lips, blowing cool air where you were wettest.

Shivering, whimpering, you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

His eyes flickered up. “Are you?”

“Yes,” you whined, walls clenching around nothing as you stared down at the inch of space between your clit and his lip. He didn’t say anything, and come to think of it, he didn’t give you any warning before taking you over the edge. “You didn’t say anything,” you whispered, and all amusement in his expression was wiped away. “You let me do it, you-“

“Shut up.“ He released your legs and stood up, towering above where you sat. Unfastening his belt buckle he rid of his jeans, his cock begging to break free- thick, red and leaking… “Good girls get fucked. Good girls get to cum,” he closed your legs and positioned himself on top of you, on his knees, straddling yours. Taking his hands to your shoulders, he pushed you down on the cushions and wrapped one hand around your hair. “Bad girls get their bratty mouths stuffed,” your lips parted on instinct, and his other hand caressed your cheek, “Bad girls get used to make me cum.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

jisung • He shouts. It hit you, fast, and you arched, and cried out, and your pussy squeezed him so, so tight, he thinks you may have squirted, it’s so wet, and so warm, he’s so snug, he’s hitting so deep, and your moans are delicious, his stomach tightens- he almost cums. Utterly pussydrunk, he has to pull out and grab onto you, forgetting for a moment that that was not supposed to happen, but his brain is equally as fuzzy as yours, and you feel so good he could cry…

“Y-you weren’t…” he gasped, gulping, palming your blazing hot skin dewy with sweat, both of yours.

Body twitching through aftershocks, your entire being buzzing with euphoria, you reach up and grab onto his cheeks. “Ji…” you whispered breathlessly, “I couldn’t… I’m sorry, couldn’t hold it, you were…”

He was lost in his own pleasure, jackhammering into you, holding your hips at an angle to hit your sweet spot ‘cause it felt twice as good for him. He was whimpering like a bitch, clawing at your thighs, unable to keep his tongue in his mouth.

Your moany tone almost made him cum untouched.

“…I-I tried to be good, wan’ listen to you, I tried, I tried, I’m sorry, want you, only you, t’fill me up, fuck me like that again, use me, I’ll be good, I will, I will…”

He shut you up with a kiss, one sloppy and heated, and without another word, he thrust inside of you, forgetting every reason why he’d been punishing you in the first place if you were gonna keep moaning and crying like that, begging him to never stop… How could he say no?

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

felix • He stops. Filling you entirely, hips flush with yours, he glares down in disbelief. Folded in half, your knees pressed into your shoulders, your cries bounce off the walls as you writhe beneath him, trembling, eyes screwed shut, cunt leaking, squeezing his cock as you cum- without permission. You couldn’t help it, he’d been making you hold it for too long, you’ve been edged for an hour, you didn’t mean to do it… But, the tears that slipped down your cheeks as the white hot surge subsided couldn’t save you.

His hand wrapped around your throat, his thumb digging into your jaw, keeping you locked in place.

“You fuckin’ kidding me?” 

Your whispers shook, “I-I’m, I’m sorry…”

“No the fuck you’re not,” he spat, pressing his cock deeper, the pressure enough to spark your second downfall. “You’ve been a brat- No, a bitch, all fucking day, you think you deserve to cum?”

“I know,” you could barely get a breath in, between sobs, his heavy cock splitting you open, the press of his palm, “I’m sorry, Lix, please, I’m sor- sorry…”

Dropping his head, his brows nestled above his narrowed eyes, he groans and shakes his head. “No, you’re not, selfish slut,” he thrust once into you, your yelp making him smirk, “If this is the game we’re playing, it’s my turn.” Grabbing your hips he flips you over and cages you against the mattress, trapping both hands behind your back. “You’re gonna give me as many as I want since you wanna cum so bad…” His lips graze your ear. He whispers, “What’s your word, baby?”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

seungmin • He pulls out. Seungmin has a plethora of buttons, and you love to push every single one. All night you’ve gone back and forth, back and forth, arguing over the most pointless of bullshit just to get a rise out of him. Disagreeing with every point, counteracting him, playing devils advocate, he hates it, it drives him nuts, to the point of fucking the brat out of you until you’re apologizing for pissing him off… And tonight he doesn’t hold back. You’ve pushed a whole new set of seung-buttons, ones that’ve spun you into subspace before he even slid into you. He knows this, he can see it, you’re gone and the only thing to exist- you and him and the smack of his hips against yours. And though you’re fuzzy, dazed, blinking up at him like you needed him to breathe- you weren’t allowed to cum. Something he didn’t forget, no matter how much you breathlessly brokenly begged him to take you, fill you, keep you, use you…

The moment your orgasm washed over you, your nails digging into his back, your legs wrapping around him tighter, pussy sucking him in, needing more, desperate for more– he pulled out.

“Seung…” you whined, throwing your head backward in his pillows, screwing your eyes shut.

He took a hand to your chin, his fingers squishing your cheeks. “Eyes on me.” You listened, eyelashes fluttering, the room entirely blurry. “Good girl.”

“Min, min, don’t… Keep going…”

He smirked and shook his head, brushing his nose against yours. “Mmm, you think you deserve that?”

A whine ripped through you, your eyes closing again.

Seungmin gave your chin a shake, gritting his teeth. “Eyes. On. Me.” You listened. He sighed. “Don’t you dare disobey me again, you hear me?” 

Tears welled in your eyes, escaping you alongside a breath. Your legs tightened around him, you wriggled beneath him.

“Who told you you could cum?” he spat.

“No one,” you whispered, and he rewarded you with a kiss to your cheek.

“No one,” he repeated. “Who tells you to cum?”

“You do.” The answers were immediate, voice cracking, broken through sobs. Sucking in a breath, it barely stretched your lungs. “Min…”

“I do,” he clenched his teeth, “You do as I…” His voice trailed off. He watched as your eyes fluttered, as your breaths became shallow, as you grew further away from him. Propping himself up on his knees, removing his grip on your chin, placing his hands to your cheeks, he softened without a second thought. “Hey,” he spoke quietly, fingers brushing beneath your lashes, wiping your tears, “I’m right here, baby, come back to me.”

“Min,” you managed to whisper, and he nodded, pressing a kiss to your nose, then both of your cheeks.

“I’m right here,” he said, pressing his nose to your cheek. “Right here.”

Your hands moved over his back, taking to his shoulders, a weak grip as you blinked open your eyes and whispered, “R-red.”

Seungmin screwed his face up. “I know,” he whispered, “We’re done. Damn. I’m sorry, baby, no more. Red, you’re right.”

Turning your chin, body heavy and weak, feeling lightyears away from him even though his weight kept you grounded, you whispered, “Don’t leave,” and he kissed you.

“Never,” he kissed you again, “I’m here. You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

jeongin • He slaps you. He warned you. He warned you too many times. You deserved this. Taunting him all night, teasing him, getting him worked up, edging him twice– He’d had enough. But, even now, even here, in bed, fucking into you like he’s never fucked into you before, your mouth is running, and he’s fucking had it. The talking back, the blatant defiant behavior no matter what he threatens you with… He told you you couldn’t cum, so what did you do? You made yourself cum. Loud. You put on a show, just to rub it in his face, writhing, whining, your best pornstar impression…

“Fuck, Jeongin, h’mygod, I’m cumming! Dick so good, so good, fuck! Pussy’s all yours, baby, fuck, you’re so big, h’oh fuck, still cu-cumming, fill me up, please, please, please-”

Smack.

He shut you up, but he almost made you cum again.

Gripping your jaw, he bent over and grit his teeth, resuming the snap of his hips. Glaring into your watery eyes, he curled his lip. “You’re a fucking brat, you know that?”

Whimpering, feeling a tear spill over onto your cheek, you shook your head and he snickered.

“Oh, no? You’re not?” he asked, cocking a brow, “Or, you don’t know it.”

“I-I’m not…”

He let out a laugh, releasing his hold on you, letting you fall back with a gasp. Sitting up, he grabbed your hips and lifted one hand, swinging it back to smack it flat across your asscheek. “Wrong fucking answer. You’re a fucking brat. You’re lucky I don’t call you a bitch, even though you’re acting like one.” He jutted his chin forward. “Get on your knees.”

Obeying his every word, you flipped yourself over onto all fours, peering back at him positioning himself behind you. Slipping inside of you, just the tip, he glanced at you and rolled his eyes.“Let’s go,” he spat, and you whimpered, sinking backward onto him. Taking both hands to the curve of your ass, he smacked you twice more and watched you fuck yourself on his cock. “Make me cum, bitch.”

[4ttack-ur-heart]

High Tides

Pairing: Rafayel x fem!Mc

Warnings: smut (MDNI), safe-word use (not from mc), hurt/comfort, slight angst, fluff, spanking, dirty talk, piv sex, oral (male receiving, edging, dom! Rafayel, bottom! Mc, slight ooc raf.

Summary: Rafayel should’ve listened to his gut when he was hesitant on experimenting in the bedroom.

Word count: 2,567 (or so I forgot.)

Rafayel knew this was a bad idea. He wasn’t a fan of it at first, but he agreed because you seemed so interested in the idea.

“I want you to use me, Raf,” you had purred into his ear after settling yourself onto his thigh. Your hips slowly grinded onto his leg, building up the friction to your clit.

“Use you?” Rafayel had wrapped his hands around your shoulders to stabilize you. His pink eyes were dark and filled with that familiar lustful gaze. His voice had dropped an octave, even becoming raspier with a sultry tone.

“Y-yeah,” you whine, curling your arms around his neck and burying your face into his chest. Your stomach flipped as you inhaled fragments of his cologne. “I want you to dominate me, baby. Use me, mark me, make me yours.”

Now, Rafayel and you tend to switch it up in the bedroom. Sometimes he tops, and sometimes you do… but dominating? That was a whole different category. And one he wasn’t used to.

Not that he was kink-shaming anyone who prefers it, it just wasn’t his cup of tea. I mean, degrading your partner and potentially hurting them for sexual pleasure- it just didn’t sit right.

But you had seemed so eager for him to do so, and he loves giving you whatever you want.

“How do you want me to use you?” He had asked, trying to test the waters to see what boundaries you were comfortable with, so he doesn’t overstep.

His breath hitches when you let out a little gasp and close your eyes, your hips start to rock even harder against him, and your cheeks are flushed red. “Mmm-! Spank me, tease me, edge me, whatever you want. I just need you.”

Oh gods, he needed you too.

The growing tent in his pants was overwhelming his rational thoughts, clouding his judgment. Rafayel’s hands settled on the plush of your thighs, digging his fingers into the meat of the skin. He’s suddenly lifting you, groaning as his pants rub against his aching cock. You wrap your legs around his waist, planting sloppy wet kisses across the bobble in his throat.

And he agreed.

When he takes you to the bedroom, the atmosphere changes.

Suddenly, he is into it.

He lies you flat on the bed, and crawls between your legs that dangle over the edge. Lips meet lips and teeth clash in a fiery passion. Breathy gasps and moans ring out, and both of you discard your clothes. The articles of clothing fell to the floor in a heap. Rafayel hastily unclasps his belt and yanks his pants down. His hard cock strains against his boxers, and your mouth waters at the sight and size.

“Raf,” you whimper, hand already sliding down to finger yourself in desperate need of friction on the bundle of nerves. “Please.”

As soon as the words slip from your mouth, Rafayel already has you pinned down on the bed. Your wrists are locked in his grip and pressed against the plush mattress. “Don’t touch yourself unless I tell you. Got it?”

You let out a breathy sigh and nod, lips swollen, tinted pink, and parted. Rafayel could only imagine what his cock would look like shoved between them. Rafayel doesn’t break his eye contact with you, his hands repositioning themselves so now yours are locked above your head, while his other hand reaches down to your folds.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet.” He lets out a sigh at the sight, his cheeks and ears flushing pink. He reaches over and curls a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze to his. “For the rest of the night, you don’t cum without my permission. If you behave, then maybe I’ll reward you. Do you understand me?”

You whine and your eyes flutter shut as his thumb starts to rub slow circles over the nub. Nodding quickly, your legs are restless as they scatter across the sheets.

“Please, I need you.” The small tingle in the bottom of your stomach starts to build up. “Please.”

Rafayel halts the movements around your clit, making you cry out in protest. His only response is lightly pinching your clit. “Behave.” His hand then glides down your folds until they stop at your hole, and he carefully inserts a finger. “Is this what you want?”

You shake your head no, which surprises him. “I want you inside me.”

“Is this not good enough? You want me to stop?”

Again, you shake your head.

“Then stop being a brat.”

Okay, maybe he can get used to this? It’s not so bad, honestly. He likes how you obey him without hesitation and the small mewls leaving your pretty parted lips.

Rafayel removes his hands from you only to grasp your hips and roll you over onto your stomach. With his strength, he grips your waist and hoists your ass in the air so your face is pressed into the mattress. His fingers trace over the arch of your hips and watch as your hair splays across your back, before they sink into the folds where your thighs meet your hips. “It’s all mine.”

A spank to your ass leaves you whimpering. He grips your hips once more, pulling your ass back to meet his cock. It takes everything in him not to rut himself against your ass and finish- but he wants to take his time with you. Give you what you’ve been asking for from him.

Rafayel grabs you by your hair, careful not to hurt you too badly, and pulls you back so you’re kneeling in front of his cock. He pulls you down on it, your lips encasing his throbbing member with a hum. He groans out loud from your wet mouth and slowly bobs your head up and down. Rafayel is looking at you the entire time and making sure you’re not in distress.

Your eyes are closed as you suck, lips suctioned and tongue darting out to drag along his cock. Your hands are balancing your body up by resting against the bed and his thigh. When he thrusts too far, you gag. Tears line your eyes, and you whine at him. “Shh, be a good girl and go all the way.”

Rafayel brushes your hair off your face with his other hand, and you whimper at the affection. His knees start to shake when you go down just a tad further. Drool escapes your lips, and his cock twitches at the sight.

When your tongue swipes over the slit of the tip, he lets out a shaky groan as he gets closer to finishing. His grip on your hair starts to loosen, and he tosses his head back in pleasure. Rafayel’s body shakes and trembles as he fills your mouth with his thick seed. He lets out breathy moans and locks your head in place.

You whine against him, trying to take all of his cum as it fills your mouth while not activating your gag reflex.

“Swallow.”

Finally, he pulls you off his cock that was still half-hard and repositions you so you are the same as before. Face down, ass up. He inserts a finger back into your cunt, the fleshy walls still as wet as before.

“My baby girl ready for me?” Rafayel asks, smacking your ass again and watching closely as the flesh jiggles.

“Yeah,” you whine out, pushing your ass back against him. You felt so needy for him. You wanted him to fill you up, have him make you his like he’s done in the past.

After dipping in a second finger, he pulls them out and lines his leaking cock with your entrance. You fist the sheets when he starts to push in, the fat tip stretching your gummy walls.

"Ahh-!" You cry out, making Rafayel hesitate before easing his cock in slowly. Within seconds, he's already thrusting in and out, appreciating the slicking sound of your greedy hole that sucks him in along with the sound of skin slapping against each other.

The pressure in your abdomen slowly builds up again.

"R-Raf...!"

A smack to your ass. "Not until I tell you to."

This has you begging. Moans, whines, and whimpers fill the air.

Just when you feel like your body is going to release, he slows down, dragging out your prolonged release.

You groan in frustration, and another smack is sent to your ass.

"Does someone need to be punished?"

------

It's a bit later, and so far, you've both already finished at least three times each.

You got what you asked for.

Your ass has been thoroughly spanked red, and Rafayel has teased your body and edged you to the brink of many more orgasms. A few tendrils of his purple hair stick to his forehead that glistens in the moonlight peeking through the sheer curtains.

"Do you think you can give me one more?" Rafayel's breath tickles your ear. "You want to be a good girl for me, right?"

"Yeah," you whine, arching your back even further. Thank god you're flexible. His hand rubs against your ass once more, soothing the stinging pain from earlier, before tapping it again.

"Good."

When Rafayel inserts himself again, you let out a noise. Not a moan or a whimper- but a cry. He halts every movement in his body, eyes softening as he looks over you. Your face is red, you are breathing heavily, and your eyes are scrunched shut. He wouldn't have thought anything was wrong, just overheated, until he saw the tear tracks glistening across your cheeks. Fat tears were clinging onto dear life by the creases of your eyes, and Rafayel swears he stops breathing.

He leans over your body, lips hovering close to your ear as he brushes the hair away from your forehead. "Are you okay?"

"Mhm," you nod, still keeping your eyes closed. You can tell he's starting to let the dominant persona slip, so you encourage him. "Keep going, baby."

But Rafayel doesn't want to.

He scans over the dark hickies he's left across your neck; they look too dark. Then he trails down to your ass, where it was misted over with a hot shade of red. How many times did he spank you? His eyes move back to your hips, where the faint finger-shaped bruises linger over the skin- has he been gripping you too hard? Did it hurt? Why didn't you say anything...

Any spark of pleasure or lust he had felt coursing through him was now drowned by a flood of doubt.

And fear.

"Raf?" You call out, turning over slightly to look at him. "You can keep going-"

He shakes his head.

"I-I can't." And the act drops. He takes a breath. "Red."

The fatigue in your muscles disappears instantly as you sit up on the bed. Your hands go to cradle Rafayel's face, concern washing over your flushed features. "Baby? What's wrong, huh? Talk to me."

Rafayel is quiet. His head was tilted downwards, and he refused to meet your eyes. He swallows hard, feeling a ball stuck in his throat, and his hands start shaking.

Finally, he speaks, and his voice is softer than earlier. The rasp from earlier now sounds laced with emotions. "I can't hurt you. It's- it's too much."

Your thumb swipes across his cheekbones in a comforting way, and you gently tilt his head up. You nod in understanding. You go to reassure him when he cuts you off with an "I'm sorry."

Oh, you swear your heart just shattered. Especially when you see his lip wobble slightly.

"Raf, honey, oh no," You pull him down into your arms, embracing him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales deeply. "Don't you ever apologize for something like this, okay? This is why we have safewords, my love."

Rafayel wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes you as if worried you'd disappear. He sniffles, and you frown. "Look at you, though. You're covered in bruises."

"It's no different than when you've left me hickies in the past, no?"

'No, it's completely different, ' he thinks. He knew it was a bad idea. Rafayel should've been more careful. He should've listened to his gut. He should've been more attentive. He should've-

"Wait here."

Wait, no, where are you going?

You kiss the crown of his head and peel him off of you, before hopping out of the bed and slipping into his discarded shirt from the floor.

Rafayel sits alone on the bed while he waits. It's too stuffy in the room, he realizes, and his skin feels sticky.

His thoughts are running through his mind at a million miles an hour.

What if he disappointed you?

Are you angry? Upset?

What if you leave him because you aren't satisfied?

What if...

What if...

What if...

"Here, my love," You come back holding a cup of water and a bag of caramel chocolates. Rafayel takes the glass from you, and you place the bag of candies next to him. Next, you go into his drawer and pull out a soft cotton t-shirt for him to wear along with a pair of boxers. Then, you open the window. The crisp sea breeze flows through the open window, infusing the room with the refreshing aroma of salt and ocean mist, effectively dissipating the remnants of passion that once hung in the air. Finally, you join him back on the bed, your hand cupping his cheek again. "Would you like me to draw you a bath or would you prefer to just go to sleep?"

Rafayel closes his eyes at your touch, leaning into the warmth and care of your hand. He loves how you can easily take care of him and know exactly what he needs in the moment. Rafayel wants to be vocal about it, share his appreciation, but he can't. He feels too nervous, too anxious to do so.

"Are you mad at me?"

"What? Rafayel, why on earth would I be mad at you?" You look at him in shock, creasing your eyebrows at the pout in his lips. You never would have thought he'd be so distraught from this, or you would've never suggested it.

"Because I couldn't do it. I couldn't satisfy you." He confesses.

Okay, it's time for a long talk.  

"Rafayel," you start, taking his hand. "First of all, I came how many times tonight? And this dynamic that we did tonight... I never would have expected it all the time. After tonight, seeing how you reacted to it, I'm fine with never doing it again so long as you're comfortable."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel disappointed."

"But baby, I haven't been." You cut him off. "We've always said we're open to trying new things, but trying new things doesn't mean we have to like them. Besides, my comfort and pleasure aren't the only things that matter. Your feelings and emotions are just as important. I may have my preferences, but you have boundaries, and that always comes first."

Rafayel nods, appreciating your words. He smiles at you, and you instantly break out in your own, leaning in to kiss him.

"I love you, my fishy. Now, how about a nice warm bath?"

——

I’m trying to work on my smut writing but oh well little fic idea hehe.

[leejenowrld]

y/n and jaemin nsfw links

pairings — y/n and na jaemin

warnings — smut

authors note — i kept getting asks for this 😭 it’s taken me a while but i promise i was gonna get around to it !! <3

[𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄] — you’re sprawled across the sheets, nothing but the low blue hush of your phone lighting your skin, hips angled just so, two fingers sunk knuckle-deep and your own slick smeared across your thighs—utterly lost in the slow, forbidden ache of touching yourself after midnight. you know what you’re doing is reckless; you know you should have asked him first, that little breathless “please, sir” he makes you whisper with your eyes shut tight. the door clicks and jaemin’s shadow stretches across the room, jaw set, eyes burning as he catches you right there, writhing, needy, biting back your whimpers. he doesn’t speak—just yanks you down the bed by the ankles, one hand closing tight around your wrists to pin you, his other yanking your ruined panties to the side so rough you feel the elastic snap, cool air biting your bare cunt. he doesn’t even bother undressing—he’s already so fucking hard, you feel it through his sweats as he presses between your thighs, shoves his cock against your entrance, notching at your dripping hole, punishing you for being so greedy without permission. “you want to play without me? you want to come without asking?” he growls, and you can only gasp, trembling as he drives in deep, every inch a punishment, his hand slipping under your jaw to hold you still and make you meet his eyes while he fucks you open. “this is mine, you hear me? mine to ruin, mine to make come.” his hips snap, harsh and relentless, using your own slick to fuck you harder, making you take it, over and over, his palm covering your mouth when your moans get too loud—every thrust meant to remind you who you belong to, who decides when you’re allowed to fall apart. by the time you finally shatter for him, body shaking, legs splayed and wrists aching from his grip, you’re dizzy with it, ruined and wrung out and so fucking desperate for his praise, knowing he’ll drag it out all night just to teach you a lesson.

[𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐖𝐎] — windows fogged, city lights blurring past, you’re straddling jaemin in the cramped backseat, knees digging into cracked leather, every inch of you frantic and wild from the way he pulled the car to the shoulder with one sharp, wordless command. the engine still ticks under you, headlights cutting through night rain, but all you can focus on is the way his belt is still hanging loose, jeans shoved low, his hands on your hips so hard it hurts. you set the pace, thighs trembling as you sink down on his cock, greedy and messy, your skirt rucked up and jacket slipping off one shoulder. jaemin watches you—eyes blown, mouth parted, trying to hold back but his breath catches every time you grind down and rock your hips just right, making him throb deep inside. “you need it that bad, huh?” he murmurs, voice low and teasing but rough around the edges, watching you bounce, letting you fuck yourself stupid on his cock while cars blur by just meters away. he keeps one hand tangled in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat, biting kisses into your jaw while his other hand slips beneath your shirt, greedy fingers rolling your nipple between callused fingertips. “look at you, baby—riding me so desperate you can’t wait to get home.” the car rocks beneath you, your moans muffled by his mouth, your nails clawing at his chest for leverage. the only thing between you and the world is a steamed-up window and his soft praise in your ear: “that’s it, take it, fuck—just like that, let them all see how good you ride your man. gonna let you make a mess all over me, little slut.” you clench around him, chasing your high, messy and wild, and he lets you come first, holding you down, making you feel every pulse of his cock as he finishes, shuddering, his lips biting at your throat as you both catch your breath in the heat of the backseat, sweat and rainwater blurring the city outside.

[𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄] — jaemin’s lying back against the headboard, one hand braced behind his head, the other gripping your hip, guiding your rhythm with slow, lazy authority. you’re straddling him, thighs aching, cunt stretched and so wet it’s obscene, his cock buried deep and filling you perfectly. he’s watching you with that dark, hungry gaze, lips parted just slightly, letting you move at your own pace—but every time you try to speed up, his hand clamps down, forcing you to grind slower, deeper, holding you there until you’re panting and shaking, whining for more. “you want to bounce, baby? go on. show me how needy you are.” you push up, only for him to catch you by the throat, thumb pressing just enough to make your head swim, forcing your eyes on his. “keep your eyes open. i want to see you fall apart for me.” he lets you ride, but never lets you have all the control—rolling his hips up into you, thick and deep, grinding circles with his hand on your clit. you’re gasping, barely able to hold yourself up, his filthy praise in your ear—“that’s it, take it, let daddy see you, let me see how good i make you feel”—and when you finally start to come, he holds you down, pulsing up into you until you’re crying, spent, and boneless against his chest, the world narrowed to his hands on your skin, his mouth pressed to your ear, and the molten ache between your thighs.

[𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑] — you’re bent over the bed, ass in the air, jaemin behind you, rough with it tonight, his palm coming down hard, the slap echoing off the nursery wallpaper as your head is shoved into one of haeun’s teddy bears—soft fake fur muffling your broken moans. every thrust is deep and mean, hips snapping into you so hard your knees slip on the sheets, your fingers clawing at the bear, clutching it like a lifeline. “look at you—stuffed full and desperate,” he grits, his hand gripping your hips tight, driving you further up the mattress with every snap. the bear’s button nose digs into your cheek as you choke out his name, breathless, helpless, the heat building in your belly and your voice going wrecked and high, muffled into the plush. he leans in, mouth hot at your ear: “keep your head down. you want to scream? let teddy hear how filthy you are for me.” he fucks you through it, relentless, never letting up, until your body goes limp, spent, his hand in your hair, pulling you back just enough to see your glassy eyes in the dark. “my good girl. my fucking mess.”

[𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄] — he’s sprawled across the couch in nothing but a shirt and low-slung sweats, the tv flickering shadows over your thighs as you straddle him in that tiny, lacy maid dress, black ribbon collar tight against your throat, skirt barely covering the curve of your ass. he’s got you grinding down, your soaked panties pushed aside, knees braced on either side of his hips, his cock buried to the hilt inside you—one hand fisted tight in the little white apron bow at your back, guiding your rhythm, the other sliding up the back of your thigh to squeeze and smack until you whimper. your curls bounce as you ride him, hair falling in your eyes, cheeks flushed, every bounce a wet slap echoing off the leather, the stupid feather duster lost somewhere on the floor. he’s got you working for it—making you clean up the mess you left on his cock, holding you down, not letting you up until your thighs shake, mascara smudged from the tears of being so full. “look at you,” he grits, breath ragged, thumb dragging over your lips as you pant. “this what you wanted, slut? to serve me like this? take it. earn your tip.” and you do—riding him until your arms shake, until his hands clutch your hips and pull you down so hard you feel him spill inside, heat flooding you, his growl curling in your ear, “clean up every drop, bunny, that’s your job tonight.”

[𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐈𝐗] — you’re both in the back hallway of the hospital, your scrubs tangled somewhere around your knees, the soft slap of skin drowned out by the buzz of vending machines and the distant beeping of pagers. jaemin sits back against a stack of supply boxes, legs spread, eyes wild, hands gripping your hips so tight you’ll feel it for days, but he’s letting you ride him for once—your pace, your rhythm, your choice. your knees ache against the linoleum, his cock buried deep as you rock yourself down, over and over, all wet heat and swollen clench, your hair sticking to your neck with sweat. he looks up at you, dark lashes fluttering, voice rough as he breathes, “that’s it, fuck—take what you need, pretty girl.” your hands are braced on his chest, his shirt pulled open, fingertips dragging over his scar and his pounding heart. every bounce forces a gasp out of both of you, his control slipping, the friction brutal and raw. he goes pliant for you, lets you chase it, lets you own him, your whimpers filling the dark. you bite your lip, grinding down in tight circles, his cock twitching inside you, and when you lean forward, licking the sweat from his collarbone, he moans—quiet and desperate—and begs, “don’t stop, please, fuck, i’m yours, i’m yours.” you fuck him through it, trembling, mouth at his ear, shushing his cries as you take him apart, squeezing until you both unravel, the air thick with your heat and need and the sweet, aching power of him letting you use him, trusting you to ruin him just as hard as he ruins you.

[𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍] — you’re straddling him on the living room sofa, bodies tangled in the buttery evening glow, sweat slick between your thighs as his hands frame your hips, letting you take whatever you need. he’s let his shirt fall open, the muscles of his chest flexing every time you roll your hips down, the curve of your ass fitting perfectly in his palms. jaemin’s gaze is glassy—hungry, reverent, devoured by the sight of you above him, hair falling in your eyes, cunt dripping as you fuck yourself down on his cock. “look at you,” he rasps, voice half wrecked, “so fucking greedy, bunny. is that what you want? want to use me?” you grind harder, thighs quaking, chasing the rough drag of him deep inside, and he lets you—lets you ride him how you want, lets your rhythm stutter and falter, never moving to take control, just gripping you harder, mouth latching on your throat to muffle your cries as you bounce, messy and desperate, riding him until your legs are shaking, sweat beading at your hairline. he won’t let you slow down, just keeps thrusting up into you, making you take every inch, fingers digging bruises into your hips—“that’s it, show me how much you want it, baby, show me who you belong to.” you choke on his name as you come apart, shuddering, his cock twitching inside as he holds you flush, keeps you there, stuffed full, until you can’t breathe from the sweetness and the ache.

[𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓] — his back’s warm under your cheek, ribcage shifting with every low breath, the taste of sweat lingering on your tongue as you inch down, kissing along the line of his spine until he groans, twisting a fist in the sheets. you drag your lips over the dip at the base of his back, tongue slipping lower, teasing just above where he needs you, and he swears, hips jerking. you crawl between his thighs, hands sliding up his waist, pushing him to spread wider, and then you wrap your mouth around his cock from behind—slow, wet, messy, tongue pressing flat, spit running down the length. he hisses, curses, trying to keep quiet, but you suck him deep, jaw aching, the angle obscene, your hair falling in his sweat-slicked skin. he pushes back, desperate, needy, fucking into your mouth with slow, shaking thrusts. your fingers dig into his hips, holding him open as you swallow him again, spit slick and noisy, tongue teasing the head until he’s trembling for you, breath coming sharp and fast, begging for more, every sound swallowed up by your name.

[𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄] — the door’s barely shut before he hears you—those filthy, breathless whimpers echoing down the hallway, your silhouette straddling him in the dim bedroom light, knees spread wide, thighs quivering as you ride him like you’re starving for it. you’re soaked, slick coating his cock, every bounce making a wet, obscene sound that makes his jaw clench, your head thrown back, hair stuck to your flushed skin, hands braced on his chest as you roll your hips, grinding down until you shudder, moaning his name in a voice that doesn’t sound human. he grabs your waist, fingers digging in, pulling you down rougher, watching your tits bounce with every desperate drop. you’re fucking yourself stupid, babbling, begging for him to fill you up, begging for more, so needy you can barely breathe. he spits a curse, grips your ass and starts thrusting up, fucking you harder, deeper, until your nails scratch red lines down his chest, your pussy clenching around him so tight he nearly loses it. sweat drips from your bodies, his cock buried to the hilt, your cunt messy and dripping down his balls, the air thick with the sound of skin, breath, want. you gasp, losing control, riding him through the edge, choking on every gasp, until you collapse over him—used, ruined, and hungry for every filthy drop he gives you.

[𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐄𝐍] — your knees ache against the edge of the mattress, back arched so deep it hurts, hair dragging over his thighs as you bob your head, mouth stretched wide around his cock, spit running in messy strings down your chin. his hand’s tangled in your hair, holding you right where he wants, but you’re the one in control, tongue pressed flat, dragging slow and filthy along the underside, teasing him until he’s cursing, hips twitching, trying to fuck deeper. you look up at him, eyes dark, lips glossy, voice shredded with want. “jaemin, look at me—look how much i love choking on your cock, how fucking messy i get for you. you like watching me drool all over you, yeah? you want me to suck every drop out, make you cum so hard you forget your own name?” your voice is ragged, words broken by the wet sounds of your mouth working him, throat squeezing as you swallow him deeper, nose buried in his skin, gasping every time he twitches. his moans go raw, cock pulsing against your tongue, and you just hum, letting the vibrations ripple through him, sucking him harder, faster, obscene and greedy. “fuck, baby, i want you to cum down my throat, want to taste you, want to feel you fucking own me like this—please, jaemin, give it to me.” your jaw aches, spit drips onto the sheets, but you never break eye contact, taking him again and again, tongue curling, milking every last drop until he shatters for you, spilling into your hungry, aching mouth.

interested in what you read? check out ‘𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓’ heart to heart is a gritty, devastating, and ultimately healing medical drama about a cold, brilliant chief pediatric surgeon and a younger, timid intern who falls into his orbit—all bound together by a sick, abandoned baby girl who needs saving as much as they do. expect age gap, single dad, forbidden workplace romance, found family, medical realism, and angsty, dominant smut that pushes every boundary. this is a story of healing and destruction: trauma, touch, and the raw lengths people will go to for love, with every kiss, every loss, and every reunion written in blood and sunlight. at its core, it’s about three broken souls who find home in each other, even as the world tries to tear them apart.

[ddixonsangel]

𖥔 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 𖥔

𐔌 series masterlist. ➵ d. dixon. x reader + m. dixon. 𐦯

main masterlist. | navigation. | requests are open .ᐟ

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : somewhere between a crappy town in georgia and the trailer park from hell, there lives an unholy trio: you, your grumpy crossbow-wielding boyfriend daryl, and his feral older brother merle, who has clearly been dropped on his head one too many times.

what started as a simple love story has turned into a deranged series of unfortunate (and often perverted) events. from the legendary spicy pork rinds emergency, to the traumatic lingerie store meltdown—there’s no such thing as peace when merle dixon exists within a 10-mile radius.

throw in panty theft conspiracies, smutty fanfiction, cheeto-based trauma, and an eventual lobotomy, and you’ve got yourself the redneck telenovela of the century. and you? you’re stuck right in the middle of it. voluntarily.

because somehow… you love the dumbasses. and even more so these two ones who had turned your life upside down.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : ⌞ daryl dixon x fem!reader ⌝ + merle dixon

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : humor, crack, comedy.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : merle (enough to be a warning). crackfic, absurd comedy. adult humor, lots of innuendos. some nsfw references but no explicit smut. ridiculous misunderstandings. fake conspiracy. violence (cartoonish or slapstick). threats of violence. daryl being done™. merle being the chaos incarnate. reader being chronically tired and always two seconds from homicide. strong language. emotional damage (but like, the funny kind).

𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 : a godforsaken small town in Georgia—trailer park. pre-apocalypse modern au.

✶ . . . CHAPTER LIST. ⤸ TUMBLR ONLY.

➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥 || 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲: 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥'𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟. — coming soon .ᐟ

➵ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 || 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 & 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬: 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬.

➵ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐬: 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭.

➵ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭: 𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐧. — coming soon .ᐟ

➵ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒 || working on it...

© 𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋. 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 ➵ I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified or posted on any other social media or platform without my permission. The dividers are mine, please do not use them without my consent.

[sunflowers-and-sandwiches]

Living and Loving

Inspired by a scene in the fanfic “I Got You” by @annaofthenorthernlights — you’re right! There will never be enough Kristanna love in the world, so here’s a little more just for you 🧡

Frozen (c) Disney — fan art by @sunflowers-and-sandwiches. Please do not repost or use without permission.

[yashabonagracia]

My original digital art inspired by the words Maester Aemon spoke to Jon Snow about love, honor, and duty.

“What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms, or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.”

Please do not repost my work anywhere without first seeking my permission and properly crediting me. Feel free to message me if you have any questions. Please keep any comments respectful.

[fushiglow]

please help a beloved fanfic author!

many of you know and love coanda effect. like many popular fanfic authors, bunny has faced such shit at the hands of this fandom and i'm sorry to say it's happened again. someone uploaded the entirety of coanda effect to scribd. please help us to report it and get it taken down!

while i'm here, i'd like to request that you think twice before downloading fic from ao3. i've never explicitly forbid anyone from doing anything with my work because... well, it's just out of my control. people have fed it to AI to change the t/b dynamics, translated it without my permission, probably uploaded it in places i'm not even aware of too.

we have very little control over our own work as fanfic authors. i can't stop anyone from downloading it to read, but ao3 is the only place we can retain agency over our work. please, if you value fanfic, handle it with care 🫶

i'm turning off reblogs bc the purpose of this post has an expiration date on it and i don't want it to bring me drama, but spread the word with friends if you can. and if you ever see our fanfics out in the wild, please always let the author know! thank you!

[andy-15-07]

Mommy’s Good Boy

PAIRING: Danny Ramirez x Reader 💋

WORD COUNT: 808✍️

REQUESTS: Open! 💌 (send yours my way ,I love writing them all!)

SUMMARY: Mommy Kink with Danny

🌟 Danny Ramirez Masterlist 🌟 | 🔥Kink Masterlist 🔥

The door shut softly behind Danny, and you could feel the tension rolling off him like heat. He didn’t speak. Didn’t even look at you at first. He just kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag in the corner, running a hand through his hair.

You waited, watching from the bed where you sat cross-legged in nothing but a tank top and underwear.

Rough day.

You knew that look, jaw tight, eyes lowered, something in his chest wound tight and begging to be undone.

He finally looked at you, and you tilted your head with a soft smile. “C’mere.”

Danny crossed the room slowly and stood before you, hands fidgeting at his sides. You reached up and cupped his cheek.

“You need to let go, don’t you?”

He nodded, eyes glassy.

“Say it.”

“I need you,” he whispered. “I need Mommy.”

Your core tightened at the way the word slipped from his lips,needy, reverent, honest. He only used it when he was completely in that headspace. When the world had taken too much from him and he wanted to give himself over to you.

“Take your clothes off,” you said gently. “Get on the bed.”

He obeyed without hesitation, peeling his hoodie off, shirt following, then jeans and briefs until he stood naked and vulnerable under your gaze. His cock already stirred, twitching with anticipation.

“Good boy,” you murmured. “Lie down.”

He climbed onto the bed, flat on his back, arms at his sides like he knew better than to touch without permission.

You stood and undressed slowly in front of him, watching his eyes widen as you revealed more and more skin. When you crawled over him, straddling his hips, you leaned down and kissed him softly.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered. “Let Mommy take care of you.”

Danny nodded, breath shaky. “Please.”

Your fingers trailed down his chest, over the lines of his stomach, until they wrapped around his cock. He gasped, hips twitching, but stayed still like a good boy.

“So hard already,” you murmured. “So desperate for Mommy.”

You pumped him slowly, watching him fall apart beneath your touch. He bit his lip, trying to stay quiet, but the little whines slipping through made you even wetter.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want your mouth,” he breathed. “Please. Want to come for you.”

You kissed down his chest, nipping his skin as you moved lower, until you settled between his thighs.

You looked up at him, lips curled. “Keep your hands to yourself, baby. You touch me, I stop.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

You licked a slow stripe along the underside of his cock, and he let out a choked moan. You took him into your mouth, sucking gently at first, then deeper , letting your tongue swirl, your throat open. His hips twitched again, but he kept his hands fisted in the sheets.

“F-fuck,” he whimpered. “Feels so good…”

You pulled off for a second, spit glistening on your lips. “I know, baby. But not yet.”

You climbed up and hovered over him, lining him up with your entrance as you grabbed his jaw, made him look at you.

“Do you want Mommy’s pussy?”

“Yes,” he groaned. “I need it. Please.”

You sank down on him slowly, inch by inch, and his mouth fell open with a gasp. You moaned too, the stretch deep and perfect.

When you were fully seated on him, you stilled, grinding just enough to make him squirm.

“Who’s pussy is this?” you whispered.

“Yours. Always yours.”

You began to ride him, slow at first, rolling your hips, then faster, skin slapping, heat building, his name falling from your lips like prayer.

He was a mess beneath you — panting, whining, begging with his eyes.

“Mommy—I’m gonna—please—”

“Not yet,” you growled, hand wrapping around his throat lightly. “You wait for me.”

His cock twitched inside you, and his body shook from restraint.

“Please,” he whimpered. “Wanna come with you. Need to—”

You leaned down and kissed him hard, tongue claiming his mouth while you rode him harder now, your release coiling tight in your belly.

“Come with me, baby,” you moaned. “Now.”

He let go with a broken cry, cock pulsing deep inside you as your own orgasm hit, stealing your breath, your thighs shaking around his hips.

You collapsed onto his chest, both of you gasping, hearts pounding in sync.

Danny wrapped his arms around you, clinging like you were the only steady thing in his world.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice raw. “I needed that so much.”

You kissed his temple, fingers threading through his damp curls. “You’re always safe here, baby. Always.”

He looked up at you with glassy eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my sweet, good boy.”

And that night, you held him until he fell asleep ,safe, satisfied, and completely yours.

[annaebibi]

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[paulidiary]

!! ˙🍓 ̟★── sun kissed, bakugou one shot

plot: you go to sunbathe at your boyfriend's house and katsuki is feeling a lot more mushy than usual

content: soft bakugou, acts of service bakugou, established teenage (17) relationship, lover boy, ohh he loooves her, fluff, pov change, hints of underage drinking, reader likes sunbathing ᥫ᭡.

back to bkg masterlist. ──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!

it was finally summer break, and like every year, i couldn't miss this opportunity.

with high uv rays incoming, i prepared myself the best i could with my limited budget. i'm going to get tan, i'm going to get tan lines, and i'm going to take the best beach picture the world has yet to seen.

i got my hands on the cutest, skimpiest bathing suit there was, and a shawl to match when i don't feel like going everywhere with my butt in the open. the top was two triangles that could be readjustable and straps to tie at the back and the back of the neck, while the bottom had no bows to tie.

before summer, i bought myself so many cute tops i fell in love with, wedge sandals on a platform, sunnies, skirts, everything. i'll be thriving everywhere i go, people will look at me and think wow this girl is so summer.

that is my annual dream, to look like a summer fairy.

today i start. no back downs, no sloppy mistakes, no uneven spots, no burning. it'll be perfect.

you; to kats🩷:

can i borrow your backyard??

please

there was no use trying to sunbathe on my apartment's balcony. what else were boyfriends with big houses for, if not for a place to sunbathe?

i walked in through the back door that's rarely locked, katsuki texted me he's upstairs in his room if i need him. well, he didn't phrase that this nicely, but i was a pro at reading between the lines with him by this point.

it just so happens that i do need him.. to blow air into the sun bathing pool i brought with me, and fill it up with water from his tap. then, when i'm all nice and cosy, he could get me a drink when i get thirsty. that way, i don't have to get up and just get to tan and relax all day long.

i put my stuff on the coffee table to not drag it all the way back and forth with me, and started going up the stairs. his parents, just like mine, are at work until 5, so there's no point looking for them to say hi.

i knocked on his door just out of habit, but didn't wait until i got permission to enter. katsuki's room was big,and full of things like consoles, all might merch and DC comics. you can tell he's an only child.. not to mention, he had a lot of clothes, and a separate wardrobe in which you could take at least 3 steps.

and just as i walked in, he walked out of said wardrobe.

"tch, don't just walk straight in!" he scolded me, sliding the wardrobe door shut behind him. he was dressed simply, unlike me, in just dark navy jorts that were just a little bit too baggy. his ears were a tad pink, and it wouldn't be a reach to assume he's feeling a tiny bit vulnerable for being in an open view like that.

i don't blame him for walking around without a shirt in 35 degree weather, in his house.

"awh, you have nothing to be embarrassed about!" i walked up closer, a lot more exited to see him than him me it seemed. it would be our first summer spent as a couple, we got together in october last year. "come hang out with me, we haven't seen eachother in like, a week!"

a week was a lot considering we've at least seen eachother almost everyday since getting together cause of school. katsuki just came back from vacation yesterday, so maybe he has had enough of the sun. but he can still sit in the shade..

katsuki couldn't focus fully on what she was saying, too occupied with staring at her glossy lips. maybe it was his starved heart talking, but she looked more amazing than usual. smelled more potent than usual. it's been a week since he last seen her, and with his head blank...

"anyway, you look good with tan skin-" he shut her up with the only thing he could think of doing right then, putting his lips against her's so softly it almost seemed hesitant. it wasn't like the usual kisses they'd do, teeth slamming against eachother and pulling away breathless at the end, feeling hazy and almost drunk.

but he did feel lightheaded, that's what he felt like most times in her presence.

she didn't do what she usually does either, instead just took his hand, thumb going through his fingers lightly.

despite being delicate and slow, it lasted enough. she broke the kiss, and for the shortest moment, his lips reached for her before stopping and accepting that's enough. her eyes were looking down, focused on the hand she's holding, on who it belonged to. when she looked up, their eyes locked instantly, and both felt tingling on their ears this time.

my eyes closed on their own, my mind and body completely relaxed. the sun shining down at me felt like a warm blanket draped on you when you're sleeping soundly without a care in the world.

my pool was perfectly inflated, the water the best temperature to be cool and soothing. i've been laying out here for about an hour now, and it was about time i turned to tan the other side. katsuki came back inside, i don't know for what.

but soon enough, i heard the faint sound of grass crumbling repeatedly. katsuki sat down under the parasol near my pool (that he put together and took here), and put a cold glass against my face. i peeked one eye open to see a red drink.

"it's sangria. take it."

oh, right. katsuki was in spain. his mother must have liked the drink.

i turned to lay on my tummy, my elbows steadying against the ground to hold my upper body up. he placed my glass on the grass just in front of me, which earned him a sincere "thanks". it had cut up oranges inside as well as one orange on the rim of the glass, that's what took him so long.

"mom got home and made it within the same hour. i'm pretty sure the next neighbour knows where we've been and what we drank by now." i giggled, taking a sip. it was good, i'll ask mitsuki for the recipe when she's back.

i felt my hair fall out of my clip, sighing in mild frustration. before i could even attempt to redo the hairstyle, my boyfriend managed to set down his own drink and scooch closer to get ahold of my locks.

"thanks." i said again, getting a feel of his fingers brushing my hair. i had face framing strands that kept on falling out, making katsuki grumble in frustration.

he finally opted for putting my longer hair up and tucking the loose strands behind my ears. he was looking at me so... i didn't know how to label that kind of gaze.

his eyes were the window to his soul, and the more i held eye contact, the more beautiful his soul seemed to be.

i sometimes forget that he literally loves me, and i'm not just annoying him all the time. i know for sure, the fact he's letting me in so close is telling more that words could ever begin.

over the course of another couple hours, katsuki kept on moving the umbrella the way the sun kept moving in the sky. he also notified me whenever an hour would pass, and he refilled my drink continuously. i sometimes felt him picking up any bugs that dared to sit on me, and swat away any bigger ones, like flies.

i hadn't asked him to do anything of the mentioned.

sometimes, short conversations would start and end in comfortable notion.

"cute swimsuit."

"mmm. i went shopping with ochaco 4 days ago."

"mm." i felt his gaze on me.

"how was spain?"

"cool. i like sangias."

"me too. i liked the pictures."

"took them for you. hag said you can come next time."

with a content smile on my face, i peeked my eyes open again to see him sporting that same smile right beside me.

it was time to go home, and the only thing i dreaded more than saying goodbye to katsuki was packing that damn sun bathing pool.

"just leave it, dumbass. you're coming here tomorrow anyway."

"huh?" we didn't plan for anything though.

"where else are you going to tan with uv 8?"

a/n: i love katsuki and i lobe sangrias😋

lit katsuki in the kitchen (tiktok)

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: The Double G's

Summary: The G's are aggitated and it's upsetting everyone in the department.

Warnings: None. Please let me know if I missed any!

Previous

Tech Tuesday Masterlist

Everyone in the department is tense. The G's being quiet and not interacting with others is nothing new but there's an indecipherable aura about them today that's scaring everyone. As much as Sy wants to stay lost in his own thoughts, he knows he's got a job to do. Sighing, he refills his coffee and heads over to their shared cubicle.

The air around them seems to have a negative charge. It makes Sy think of the quiet before an explosion and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But he still approaches with quiet calm, using his coffee cup as a shield to deflect the worst of it.

"Alright, you two," he crosses his arms. "What's goin' on with ya?"

The G's both fight the urge to glare at him. He is in charge, he is only looking out for the department. It is not his fault that they are scary.

Geralt takes a breath. "We're upset about something."

"Something personal," G adds.

"I figured as much," Sy retorts. "But it's affectin' everyone else here, so I gotta ask if there's somethin' I can do to help y'all out."

The G's look chagrined at his words.

"This is new territory for us," G starts.

"Our sour moods are usually ignored or dismissed," Geralt explains.

"We are upset with another person in the department," G adds.

"But it is personal, not professional, so we do not think the office is the place to address it," Geralt clarifies.

Sy nods. "Okay, I can understand that. Have y'all tried talking to them in the break room? Maybe during lunch? Yeah, you're still in the building, but it's your legally required downtime."

G raises an eyebrow at Geralt, I told you.

Geralt gives a little nod back at him, You did.

G shifts in his seat, Are you going to be okay with the break in routine?

Geralt lets out a little sigh, It's for the good of everyone we address this soon.

The G's make eye contact with each other and give a nod before turning back to Syverson.

"We will talk with him during his lunch break," G confirms.

"Thank you for the help," Geralt adds with a sincere nod.

The break room is significantly more occupied than they like. They eat at off times specifically to avoid this scenario, but their need is strong. They quickly find their target and sit across from him and Bubbles.

"Drysdale," Geralt growls.

"We need to talk," G explains.

Ransom's eyes widen and he looks nervous but he doesn't challenge them.

"You used us for a deception," Geralt complains.

"You did not ask us to cover for you," G glares.

"Using the D&D group to lie about your whereabouts is unacceptable," Geralt quietly grumbles, eyes never leaving Ransom's.

"We know you did it to avoid hurting your friend, but you still did it without asking us," G clarifies.

Ransom nods, looking sad, as Bubbles gives the G's understanding looks.

"You're right," Ransom agrees. "That was wrong of me, and I'm genuinely sorry. I've apologized to Bubbles, but I haven't apologized to the D&D group so let me do that now."

Ransom sits up straight and takes a breath to steady his nerves before making eye contact as best he can with both men.

"I'm sorry," he says, sincerity written all over his face. "I'm sorry for not thinking about the consequences of my actions, for not asking if you'd be willing to help cover for me. I shouldn't have used the D&D group to cover for my...indiscretions. Not without permission." The G's nod and Ransom takes it as an acceptance of his apology. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"You hurt the entire group, so you will make it up to everyone," Geralt demands.

"You will provide drinks for every session until we say otherwise," G explains.

"That's a far easier punishment than I was expecting," Ransom comments.

The G's give each other a look before turning back to him.

"We understand that social norms can be difficult to understand and learn," Geralt sympathizes.

"Your journey is different from ours, but we recognize a fellow student," G discloses.

"We also recognize that improvement does not come through negative reinforcement," Geralt adds.

"Making you suffer more for your forgiveness would be counterproductive," G nods.

Ransom looks like he might start crying.

The rest of the day, the atmosphere in the department is a lot more relaxed.

Next

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @iwudbutnah; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @kingliam2019; @kmc1989; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @peaches1958; @peyton-warren @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare

[darksturnioloqueen]

Masochistic!Reader x Spoiler

**This Fic Series will NOT be for people with triggers. This Fic Series will have very descriptive moments of Sadism.**

Sadistic (Sadism - The Act Of Being Sadistic)

Deriving (getting) pleasure from inflicting (causing) pain, suffering, or humiliation on others.

Please Read At Your Own Risk.

⚠︎Trigger Warning: Honestly I get so tired of these... the only warning I can think of is anticipation ⚠︎

Matt didn't mention that you snooped to find his journal or read it without permission. Usually he would be beyond pissed that someone invaded his privacy or crossed a line he created to protect himself but it was you. He was relieved you knew, in a sense. He liked that his feelings for you were now clear to you without him having to do any of the hard part in vocalizing it. He was gone at work, and you were almost done putting everything back together around the house. You felt a lump form in your throat. You rushed to the bathroom and lifted the toilet seat. You closed your eyes, feeling the chunks of breakfast with Matt from earlier come back up. Your eyes squeezed tears out of the corners as you heaved.

It had been three days since your drinking and journal reading binge. So, surely a hangover was out of the question as to why you were still getting sick. You sat on the cool floor and waited in case your body decided it wanted to relieve more of its contents. While sitting staring at the white porcelain you overthought about your constant throwing up. Your eyes widened knowingly. Using you fingers you calculated from when Matt and you had your first period sex experience. From there you thought long and hard about when your last period was. Your eyes widened more. That was your last period.

Now you were in thought thinking of when your next one should have been. "Met my brothers..." You mumbled. "Proposed." You looked down at your ring. You never felt like you would get tired of admiring it. He probably hated the pink crystals in the bow pattern but he did it for you. He knew you would love it, and you did. "He caged me then asked me to move in and we -" You stopped whispering. You looked down at your fingers again. That would have been the right time frame for your body to be accepting applications from a male. You gasped. "The month I moved in." You said full voice. With all the moving and redecorating, or just decorating in general you hadn't even noticed.

You stood up and felt the panic coming in a wave through your body. Matt notices everything about you. Could he know too? If he knew, why wouldn't he say anything to you? You were determined to get it confirmed. You went into the bedroom and set out some comfy clothes. You were going to have to go out and deal with him being pissed. You needed to get a test. You brushed the regurgitated acid off your teeth and changed. You took the hallway steps confidently, knowing you had to do this. Those steps halted you right before the camera would catch you. You took a deep breath in. "I promise I am not cheating." You whispered aloud, hoping there was some little gust of wind that could take the words directly to Matt.

You walked straight out the back door without looking back. Once you were sitting in the car, you felt fine. Free to be exact. You drove into town straight to the store, picked out three different brand tests, and paid with embarrassment. Back in the car you were shaking. You knew you couldn't go home because Matt was probably already there tearing up the house for evidence of you cheating on him. You need somewhere that felt safe. You started driving thinking you might regret this later.

"Hey, Sis." Elliott answered the door. "Why are you all the way here?" Forty-five minutes away was still far away from your everyday life.

"Who is home?" You clutched the grocery bag in hand hoping it didn't make a crinkle noise to draw attention to it.

"Just me. Parents went out for lunch and Cole is on a date." You sighed with relief. You didn't want to do this alone but mostly you didn't want Cole here.

"I think I'm pregnant." You said and whipped around to see his immediate reaction. Nothing short of what you expected it to be. His mouth dropped open. His eyes finally noticed the tests in hand.

"You sure?" His voice was now shaky.

"Can you just sit with me?" You obviously didn't want or need him watching you pee on a stick but having someone to wait with was what you were hoping for.

"Of course. You need water?" He offered, going into the kitchen. You nodded. You poured the tests on the counter. "Damn. You aren't joking." He stifled a chuckle. You looked at him. You could tell he saw the true fear in your eyes as his body softened as soon as he looked back into them. "Sis. It's okay. I am here for you. You know mom will be thrilled." He wrapped an arm around you and side-squeezed you.

"I know what you are doing..." You sighed. You felt the tension even underneath his calming words.

"Do what? I'm not doing anything." His voice cracked from being caught.

"He is a sadist. What if he goes to far and doesn't just hurt me?" You were able to let one question burning your brain flow out freely.

"Let's just find out if you are first." Elliott always was the rational one. He opened the boxes for you, seeing that your hands were too shaky to focus. "Take them. I'll be on the couch." He smiled softly and started cleaning up the evidence. You went into the bathroom and sat down. Matt was perfect, but was he ready to be a father? The fear in your head was involuntarily clenching your thighs, holding in the liquid that would tell you everything you needed to know. You took in a deep breath and forced yourself to unclench. You held each stick under your stream carefully. You remembered the time he gagged you to swallow his urine. All the times he was too rough with you, not that you would complain but if you were pregnant that had to change. You knew Matt could be soft and hold back but what would happen after the baby was born? Could he change forever?

Your pee ran out. You set the sticks on the counter and left the bathroom fast. Elliott was in his designated spot on the couch right where he promised. You immediately curled up under his arm and started crying. "Hey. Hey. It's going to be okay." He rubbed your shoulder.

"Matt can't be a father. He is not ready." You choked out.

"He loves you. I can tell. Maybe at first I had concerns but the way he looks at you -" Elliott paused and you looked up at him with reddened eyes. "He looks at you like he would die if something bad happened to you. He loves you." Elliott's words were the perfect comfort.

"I know." You smiled. The journal was the written proof of Matt's feelings for you, but there were always other tells. The way he died inside thinking you cheated, the need he always had for you, even the way he sacrificed his comfort or feelings for yours. Matt loving you was never a question anymore, moving forward. "But can he love a baby?"

"I think he would if you did." Elliott chuckled. Meeting Matt was rough to down play how it all went. But regardless of a bad meeting, Elliott watched him. Cole watched him too. Cole was trying to look for negatives, as where Elliott only saw the positives. The look in Matt's eyes when he watched his younger sister from across the room was intense, yes, but protective and loving. Elliott knew two things, and to him they were the only two things that mattered when it came to his younger sister being with someone. She needed to be protected and loved. Although their first meeting was Matt throwing fists at them, it was to protect his sister, and that didn't go unnoticed. "It's time." Elliott looked at his wristwatch. You looked up at him, and the fear completely returned back.

"Can you look first?" You whimpered.

"You sure you want me to know first?" He felt bad you were scared of the truth but in a weird way honored. Getting to know first would be cool. He stood up and looked down waiting for your confirmation. You nodded. Elliott walked into the bathroom and looked at all three sticks with the results. He walked out. You stood up and looked all over his expression for any tell to the answer you awaited.

"Well?" You felt everything stop in the moment. Your heartbeat slowed down. Your breath stopped flowing. Your blood ran cold. The thoughts racing moments ago stopped burning your brain. The only thing you felt was a slight tingle in your stomach.

"Congratulations!" Elliott picked you up and spun you around in a circle. You slightly laughed at his gesture, then the reality of what he said settled in.

"Wait, what?" You pushed him until he dropped you.

"You are pregnant, 'Pet'." He said in a mocking tone. You shoved his shoulder for that one.

"How do I tell Matt?" You stumbled feeling dizzy. Elliott of course caught you and walked you over to the couch. "What if he left?"

"He won't." Elliott knew nothing about your special relationship, but he knew Matt was never leaving his sister. "Just breathe for a minute, okay? I will take out the trash so no one else sees." As you sat on the couch, you thought of Matt. He loved everything about you without hesitation. Well, maybe not the pink, but everything else he consumed like he would never get enough of you. You touched your stomach as a reflex. The problem was that a baby is not a part of you for long, and eventually it would be its own living and breathing human. Could Matt love it then?