#screw those instructions

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

I hate also recognized when the root of my annoyance is guilt or insecurity

[montanabohemian]

soooooo this afternoon i found out some devastating news about my current financial situation and am basically screwed. if ANYONE can help me out with rent and some recent medical and vehicle emergency bills, i would so greatly appreciate it. (or just sharing this helps i guess i don't know.)

paypal

[grimmsbride]

✶ ℘ EASY GOING DOWN ╲ rex sloan.

₊ཾִ ᖫྀ ⁣⁣. ⠀⎯ summary rex was trying to be better, to a new and improved man and superhero. slowly growing himself, the man turns to you in hopes of learning one, very important thing; how to get better at oral sex..

₊ཾִ ᖫྀ ⁣⁣. ⠀⎯ tags rex is ooc (i’ve never written for him before) | oral sex | past mentions of rex being a selfish lover/person | eve mention (love her) | porn with no plot | porn with complicated feelings | fingering | pet names (mama, baby) | again rex is ooc i’m sorry 😭 | uhh that’s it

₊ཾִ ᖫྀ ⁣⁣. ⠀⎯ notes i asked for requests and then literally went on vacation i’m sorry 😭😭, i’m slowly trying to get through them (though this wasn’t a request just something i wanted to write) so please bare with me and thank you for your patience. as always please excuse any mistakes, and pls enjoy

“Rex, are you fucking serious?”

“Can you give me a minute to warm u—“

“Warm up?!” You huffed loudly, quickly sitting up from your laying position. Your eyes bore into the man between your legs, spotting the way he so stupidly sat there with his tongue partially past his lips, eyebrows furrowed a little in annoyance.

The situation was odd in the simplest terms, weird at worst. Currently you found yourself in nothing but a tshirt, completely bare from the waist down whilst your close friend Rex Splode was at his knees towards the edge of the bed, attempting to eat you out.

It was no secret Rex was selfish at times; a dickhead, cheater, just a boundless amount of certain emotions wrapped into one. But luckily, he was trying to change, trying to outgrow the old Rex Sloan into a person worth being around.

And well, one of those steps was learning how to be.. less selfish during sex.

That’s where you came in. Given the two of you were pretty close — and pretty platonic, up until this point — Rex was able to come to you about his personal dilemma, practically begging to practice on you with the promise of buying you whatever you wanted; no matter the price.

It took a moment for you to give in, but something about that pretty face screwed up into a begging pout was enough. And it couldn’t be that bad, right?

Except, the man has done nothing spectacular since he started. He avoided your clit like the plague, did nothing special with his tongue, and nearly bruised your walls with the unnecessary speed of his fingers.

You flopped back onto your bed, groaning softly. “Warm up..” You repeated in soft disbelief, leaning to rest your cheek against the blankets.

“— no wonder Eve dropped your sorry a— OW!”

You shot up once again, glaring daggers at the man, “You did not just fucking bite my thigh.”

“Serves you right.” Rex grumbled, though rubbing his thumb across the bite mark as if to soothe you. He leaned his cheek against your opposite thigh, eyes trailing to focus on your face.

“Just tell me what to do. That was the entire point of me coming to you.”

Your gaze trailed back to the man, silent for a few moments before releasing a little sigh. You shouldn’t be too hard on him, despite how silly the situation seemed, this was Rex’s odd way of being better. In his own, little, very odd way.

“Well first..” You begun, adjusting your hips to catch his attention. Your legs slid open a little wider, gliding your fingers across your thighs. “Don’t immediately jump to fingers, use your tongue— you’re supposed to warm the girl up.”

Rex was quick to obey your instructions, hands finding your thighs whilst leaning closer. His tongue slowly slid out from his mouth, gliding across your folds, the tip parting them to drag against your little bud. The act was experimental, Rex clearly taking your words to heart; something you found quite cute in the moment.

Resident douche bag Rex Sloan sitting here so patiently and sweetly, eyes on you and eyebrows lifted as he awaited your next request.

Your hand rose, finding a strand from his loose bun, curling it around your finger.

“Keep doing that, focus on my clit too..” Your voice trailed the moment he gave you another lick, dragging the fat of his tongue along your slick cunt. Soft squelches begun to rise in the air as he continued, his shallow breathing fanning against you with each moment that passed.

Unlike before, Rex didn’t rush, throughly taking his time in pleasuring your body. The complete 180 had you reacting much more positively then before, sinking into the bed as the pleasure bloomed from little sparks to strikes down your spine the moment his lips wrapped around your clit.

You couldn’t help the way your thighs jolted, threatening to squeeze his head into place. Large hands spread along your warm skin, carefully taking your thighs into his palms and keeping them steady and wide.

“Shiiiit...” Your voice dragged, taking your shirt in your hands for a gentle grip. Gentle was his lips and tongue, circulating your little bud swollen, sucking even softer— your arousal pooled from within down to your taint.

A growing mess that Rex was slowly getting proud of.

His eyes dragged up your body to your face, noticing the way your eyelids rested low on your eyes, lips parted as a mix of soft breathing and quiet moans escaped. Rex’s hand adjusted, allowing his thumb to rub little circles along your labia, slowly removing his lips from your swollen button with a soft pop.

“Looks like I’m actually doing something right, huh?”

It was just like him to tease you at a time like this, lips slick with your mess and his saliva curled into the most devious little smile.

Your eyebrows pushed close, mouth opening a little wider to tell him off, only for the man to lean back down to your clit, returning to his previous ministrations.

“What’s the next step, baby?”

The words were muttered right into your wetness, eyes completely focused on your face and awaiting your command.

Your stomach was clenching into knots, hand moving over to his hair to hold instead of your own shirt.

“Just… ke—keep doing that..” You whined loudly the moment his teeth ever so gently dragged across your clit, a swear escaping you in the process.

His confidence was thriving at this point, and something else as well…. Rex Sloan didn’t put much thought into coming to you, none at all, actually. In his mind, it was nothing more than a friend teaching another how to beat a level to a game.

Nothing more right?

Except, here Rex was with his mouth right on your pretty cunt, feeling his dick twitch with every moan that escaped you. And it sure didn’t help every so often the sweetest Rex, would escape your throat; soft, as if you didn’t want him to hear at all.

That simple conclusion caused just a pinch of annoyance.

A hand of Rex’s moved, two fingers being dragged against your wet slit for a couple seconds before they slowly pushed into your fluttering hole. The man watched you carefully, watching as your eyes shut, a groan escaping your throat.

And with a single curl of his fingers, Rex was getting exactly what he wants.

“Rex, fuck!” You cried out, quick whines soon following. Your legs shook and twitched, you were trying so desperately not to crush his head but as he started to thrust his fingers; pushing at your velvety walls in slick squelches, your will was draining slowly.

You slowly sat up, leaning onto your hands and glancing down at the man with glossy eyes.

“Y—you’re good now.. you do—“ Your teeth dragged across your bottom lip, attempting to shake off the pleasure to get through your sentence. The man wasn’t even focused on you, his fingers and mouth continuing to ruin you utterly and completely. You rested on a single hand, reaching down with the other to uselessly push at his forehead.

“— don’t.. have to finish. Fu—fuck, Rex!”

The pads of his fingers were striking that little spongy spot with each thrust, thick appendages scissoring inside, rubbing against your walls so deliciously you were seeing the back of your skull and stars in one fell swoop. Your words were falling on deaf ears, or rather— ears that couldn’t give that much of damn.

Rex was quick to raise his freehand, pressing it against your stomach and effectively pushing you back to your mattress. You squirmed for a moment before quickly realizing the man didn’t work out for nothing, given he kept you seated completely without even trying.

“C—can’t take.. it, Rex— fuck!”

For the first time in a while Rex was moving away, even if just an inch — bated breath fanning across your cunt — as he released a simple;

“C’mon mama.. let me finish. I can’t half-ass end my lesson without at least getting a grade.”

You wanted to kick him, slap, everything— basically hearing that cocky grin dripping from every word. Instead you could only gasp, feeling him latch his mouth right back to your little button with much more vigor then before, little tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

With both hands you were tugging at his hair, ruining his bun as brown strands tickled your heated skin. Coupled with this, your hips lifted off the bed, driving your pussy right into your face as desperation collected right at the pit of your tummy.

Rex couldn’t help but groan into your wet sex, muttering a soft Fuck my face, [Name] right into you, the vibrations of his words just adding to the already overwhelming pleasure.

You felt that band coming quickly, threatening to pop the longer time went on. And with how hard you were clenching, you knew your end would be intense.

Rex was quick to mutter soft encouragements right into you the moment he noticed how harshly you were clenching, sucking in his fingers so much as if you didn’t wish to let go. The man couldn’t help but grunt the moment the hold on his hair tightened, cock straining at his pants, him wondering if he could come untouched— off your tastes alone.

His name escaped you in one final pleasure filled bellow, coming all over his face and practically locking him into place with your legs. Rex didn’t seem to mind, licking you up, helping you ride out your orgasm perfectly.

Your legs shook from the aftershocks, stomach on fire as you fell back onto your mattress, legs loosening as you breathed. Between soft breaths and strokes of his hair you attempted to calm down, eyes closed and sinking into your mattress.

Only to realize Rex had not stopped once, continuing to lick at your messy cunt, not wasting a single drop of your arousal.

With a loud groan, and much rougher then you intended you were tugging at his hair, lifting him from between your thighs.

“You have to let me catch my breath, Rex!” You huffed out, moving your hips a bit the moment he pulled his fingers out.

Your eyes narrowed at the smile crossing his soaked face, absolutely hating the way he looked downright sexy with messy hair and your essence all over his skin.

“Then hurry up and catch your breath.. I still got a couple of lessons I need help with.”

Your eyes widened, releasing his hair in slight shock as you basically tossed yourself back onto your mattress.

“Five.. minutes.”

[prokopetz]

I'm not gonna claim that most Tumblr polls are anything like rigorously structured, but I've seen a lot of folks rather smugly asserting that having a "not applicable" option that ends up dominating all other responses is evidence that the person who created the poll is incompetent, and y'all: under the specific circumstances in which these polls are constructed and distributed, that outcome is evidence of good poll design, not bad poll design. Yes, even when the "not applicable" responses outnumber all other responses ten to one. There are several reasons for that:

At the time of this posting, Tumblr polls have no "see response" button. The only ways to see a poll's distribution of responses are to wait for the poll to conclude, or to respond yourself – and not only are people on social media typically curious and impatient, many of them also know that there's no way they'll remember to check back later once the poll has concluded, so in practice, their opportunity to see the results is now or never. Adding a little note to the poll insisting that people who aren't part of the targeted demographic should refrain from voting isn't necessarily going to restrain that impulse. Indeed, it may end up encouraging folks who otherwise wouldn't have picked a random result-revealing response to do so, because fuck you, don't tell me what to do.

Many respondents genuinely won't realise they're not part of the targeted demographic until after they've voted. It doesn't matter how much text you add to contextualise the poll, because they'll read the poll first, and if they read the accompanying text at all, it's only after they've responded. Heck, a lot of folks don't even bother to read the question before responding to a poll; they just start going down the options and reflexively click the first one that seems like it might apply to them, then go back and read what was actually being asked (and complain in the notes if it turns out that they misunderstood). Even a well-meaning person can only comply with instructions they've actually read; for those folks, clicking the "not applicable" option is what compliance looks like.

Even folks who do fit your poll's targeted demographic can fall prey to the imp of the perverse. Giving the most accurate response rather than the most entertaining one can be a real struggle for a lot of folks; in scientific analysis of polling data, this is known as the "mischievous responder bias". In an informal setting like Tumblr, it's reasonable to suppose that the mischievous responder effect might be exaggerated compared to polls conducted in more formal contexts, and a well-designed poll is going to take that into account. A humorous "not applicable" option provides an escape by affording folks the freedom to screw around with the knowledge that they're not polluting useful data by doing so; in practice, the "I am a toaster" option is a mischievous response filter.

What this adds up to is that a poll where 90% of the responses hit the "not applicable" button is more likely to have yielded useful data than a poll with a narrow target audience where some unknown percentage of the responses represent folks not reading the instructions, clicking random options to see the results, and/or taking the piss.

[smutoperator]

Detention

Hong Eunchae x Male Reader

Tags: anal, bad cop, begging, daddy kink, dungeon, facial, (lots of) flogging, hole switcheroo, nipple clamps, punishment, teen, vibrator, virgin

Word count: 4020

Every time someone turns 18, they want to try something new that was once not allowed to them. It was no different for Eunchae, who had just got her driver's license.

Eunchae hopped in the car alongside her group leader, Chaewon, who would be instructing her. Both had taken a couple of drinks a few hours before as well but thought it was no big deal. However, things were about to change quickly.

A cop stopped the car Eunchae was driving. "Can you please show me your license?" you asked her. Eunchae started searching her pockets but couldn't find it, growing increasingly desperate. "I-I can't find it," she said.

"Sure, I'll check your alcohol levels too," you said, handing Eunchae a breathalyzer. She was shocked as she found out she was over the legal limit, feeling she was truly screwed. The teenager started crying, but you were merciless towards her. "You're under arrest," you announced to her, dismissing Chaewon shortly after as she passed her test.

Eunchae looked scared as you drove her to jail, detaining her in an individual cell. You kept looking at her tall, young body as she walked around the cell, pondering if she would be able to get bailed out without being involved in a scandal.

"How much do I have to pay to get set free?" Eunchae asked. You, however, just ignored her, checking the paperwork of her arrest. "Come on, I know you can hear me," she said. You finally got up and handed her a few papers. "I need you to sign this," you said.

"Can you explain to me what this paperwork is about?" Eunchae kept asking. "Damn, just sign it," you say, losing your patience and exiting the room. "Please, come back; don't leave me here," Eunchae begs.

"I'll sign it," Eunchae says as you return a couple of minutes later. "Good, that's what I wanted," you tell her. "Now, can you please get me out of here?" she asks. "Yes, but first I need you to take your clothes off," you tell her.

"Why is that necessary?" Eunchae asks. "I'm the one giving the commands; you just obey them, young brat," you say. "Fine," Eunchae says as she starts to strip herself, struggling as you handcuffed her during the arrest. "This is so frustrating," she says. "COME ON, TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, YOU FUCKING SLUT," you yell at her, getting mad.

Eunchae obeys and slowly strips herself down. "HURRY UP, YOU'RE TAKING TOO LONG," you keep screaming. "You could help and take those handcuffs off me," she says. "Nah, that's not gonna happen," you tell her. "Now, take off your panties," you tell her.

"Ok, now what?" Eunchae asks. "Put your hands right here," you tell her, indicating an opening at the cell as you take her handcuffs off, staring at her naked teen body. "Put your hands behind your back, turn around, and put your ass over here," you keep commanding. Eunchae obliges. "Now spread your fucking ass for me," you keep ordering.

You pick up a butt plug and insert it in Eunchae's virgin asshole. It takes you a while as her tight butthole doesn't budge with the pressure of the object, but you finally manage to do it. "Ok, now put your clothes back on quickly," you tell her as Eunchae follows your orders, and you cuff her hands back again but release her from jail.

"Let's go to the room; I need to ask you some questions," you say to her. Eunchae is scared, fearing you'll do something bad to her. "Don't panic; if you behave well, you'll soon be free. Just be quiet," you tell Eunchae as you grab her face and open the doors of the room. However, as soon as she is in there, Chaewon calls her, and her phone rings loudly. 

"You had one rule and managed to violate it, such a fucking brat. Now you're going to the dungeon," you tell Eunchae. As she gets into the dungeon, you strip her naked, tying her body to a table while putting a gag in her mouth. She spots the signed photos of many idols, including her fellow groupmates. Her driver's license is on your desk, making her wonder if this was a set-up all along.

"I'm gonna punish you, young brat. All you had to do was follow my rule; now you'll face the consequences for being a bad girl," you tell Eunchae, looking at her face as you carry a whip in your hands. "Do you understand me?" you ask Eunchae, giving her naked ass a couple of spankings. Eunchae nodded positively as her mouth was covered.

"I don't think you had enough discipline; now I'm gonna teach you how to be a proper adult. Do you understand me?" You ask her, giving her ass a few more spankings. Eunchae agrees, but with the gag in her mouth, the words struggle to come out. "I WANT TO HEAR IT LIKE YOU FUCKING MEAN IT," you scream at her.

"How much do you want me to spank you?" you ask Eunchae. "Say it," you continue as her words keep getting muffled. "A lot," you finally manage to hear what she said. "And what do you want me to do to you?" you keep asking. "I want you to fuck my virgin holes," she answers.

Hearing it drives you crazy. You spank Eunchae's ass multiple times. "That's what she wants, you fucking bitch, a good fucking punishment," you tell her, laying your hands all over her body. "You're such a good little girl learning a lesson and teaching you the fucking rules, do you understand?" you keep asking. "Yes," Eunchae answers. "That's what I want to hear," you say.

You bring an even larger whip to hit Eunchae. "Is that what you want? Should have followed the rules, slutty bitch," you tell her, hitting her body with multiple angles but focusing especially on her ass. "What do you say when I spank you?" you ask her. "You say, 'Thank you, Daddy," you quickly answer.

"Thank you, Daddy," Eunchae says, trying to make you hear it despite the mouth gag. "If you take your punishment well, I'll give you a present. Are you gonna behave?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy," she answers as you keep flogging her 18-year-old body, turning it red.

"I think that's good enough," you say, looking at Eunchae's body now full of your red marks. You bring a Hitachi vibrator and place it in her virgin pussy. "What do you say?" you keep asking. "Thank you, Daddy," she answers. "Louder," you say. "THANK YOU, DADDY," she screams. "Now, follow the rules and don't cum without my permission," you continue, increasing the speed of the vibrator.

Eunchae tries to resist as the vibrator heavily massages her pussy. "Don't fucking cum," you tell her, taking the gag out of her mouth as the massage only gets more intense, making Eunchae moan with the pleasure it gives her. "How does it feel?" you ask her. "It feels so good, Daddy," she answers. "How many times have you had one of those massaging your pussy?" you ask her. "A few times, Chaewon unnie has one, and sometimes I borrow it to masturbate while she's away," Eunchae answers.

You spread Eunchae's tight pussy open, making it vibrate further. She moans, trying to resist as much as possible not to cum as you pick up the speed of your moves. Some juices leak out of her teen cunt. "Let me put you right on your fucking clit," you say, spanking her as well. "Thank you, Daddy," she says. 

"I think I'm being too nice to you; what do you think?" you ask Eunchae. "I don't know," she answers. "You don't know? Well, looks like you need more discipline," you say, hitting her with a whip. "Looks like you need some cock," you say. "Yes, daddy, my virgin pussy is aching for your cock," Eunchae answers.

"Say it like you mean it," you demand of Eunchae, shoving your clothed pants in her face. "I need your cock so bad, daddy," she answers, licking it. "LOUDER, BEG FOR YOU," you demand. "I NEED YOUR FUCKING COCK DEEP IN MY VIRGIN PUSSY," she screams shortly after.

"And what are you gonna do to get it?" you ask Eunchae. "Anything you want, daddy," she answers. "Okay, there you go," you say, putting a pair of clamps on her nipples. "Perfect, now I can give you some of that cock, but you better keep begging for it," you tell her.

"Please put that cock in my pussy, please," Eunchae keeps begging. You make it as hard as possible for her, shoving your dry shaft inside her virgin cunt. "Ahhhh, oh yeah," she moans as you go very slow, amazed at how tight her teen pussy is. "Tell me how it feels," you say to her. "So fucking good, daddy," she says as you slowly pick up the speed and grab her ass.

"Oh yes, you work my pussy so good, daddy, how does it feel to you?" Eunchae asks. "It feels so fucking tight; how does my big cock feel in it?" you reply, grabbing her hair. "Amazing, keep fucking and spanking me, daddy," Eunchae begs as your thrusts get faster and faster.

"Let me take this out," you say, taking a little break and removing the butt plug you placed inside her anus some hours ago. It struggles even more to get out just like it did to get in, but once it does, you can see her perfect virgin pink asshole and enjoy how small and cute it looks.

"Tell me how much you want that cock back; beg for it," you demand of Eunchae. "Please, Daddy, put it back in my pussy," she says. "Say it again," you tell her. "Please, put your cock in me," she replies. You got much faster this time. "Thank you, Daddy; keep spanking my ass," Eunchae begs. "Are you gonna fucking start listening to me? Oh fuck," you ask, but get interrupted by a groan as Eunchae's teen walls squeeze your fat cock hard. "You like that 18-year-old pussy a lot, don't you, daddy?" she asks.

"Oh yeah," you tell Eunchae. "Now I'll make you taste it," you continue, grabbing her head and fucking her face at full speed, making Eunchae choke hard on your dick. "Open those fucking eyes," you say as your cock gets deep in her throat and you treat her face like an onahole. "What do you say?" you ask every time she gags and you spank her ass. "Thank you, Daddy," she answers. "Then open your mouth," you continue, shoving your cock further balls deep in her mouth and covering her nose.

"You want more of this fucking cock?" you ask Eunchae as you grab her hair. "Yes, please, daddy," she begs as you jerk it off. You get back at fucking her pussy from behind. "Just like that, daddy, give it to me; it feels so fucking good," she says. You keep pulling her hair as you pound her teen cunt faster and faster, her ass completely red after so much spanking. "Is that what you want, young brat?" you ask her. "Ohhhh yeah, fuck my tight little pussy," Eunchae keeps begging as she answers you.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes," you keep saying as you get deeper and deeper inside Eunchae's pink pussy. "Keep going; show me how much you like that pussy," she tells you. "Don't fucking move," you say as you give her clit some rubbing and keep pumping her teen cunt. Eunchae turns into a moaning mess. "Yes, daddy, you fuck that pussy so good," she keeps saying, her perky young tits bouncing and her cheeks getting clapped as your thrusts only get more intense. "Oh yeah, daddy, use that young pussy," she says, making you grow even more animalesque, fucking her like a bull and masturbating her clit hard. 

"May I please cum?" Eunchae begs as your big hands are all over her throbbing clit. You don't answer her question, just getting more and more committed to fucking her teen pussy harder and harder before finally answering. "Yes, cum all over my cock, you slutty brat," you say.

You slow down and let Eunchae's juices coat your cock. "Taste that fucking cum," you tell her when she's finally done, turning around and shoving your creamy cock in her young face. "That's it, open that fucking mouth, show me how much you enjoy that fucking cum," you say to her. "Thank you, Daddy," she says. 

You grab Eunchae's face and spit on her. "You want more of this fucking cock?" you ask. "Yes, daddy," she quickly answers. "You want it in your fucking ass too?" you keep asking. "Yes, please," she answers. "Then beg louder," you reply.

"PLEASE, DADDY, I WANT YOU TO USE ALL MY HOLES," Eunchae screams. "Beg louder," you command as you spank her butt. "PLEASE, PUT YOUR COCK IN MY ASS," she says. "Keep saying it," you continue. "Put it in me, in my ass, please," she keeps begging.

You shove your cock in Eunchae's butthole in one go, as the butt plug spread it enough for an easy slide. "Ouch," she moans as if she were stabbed. "Oh fuck," she keeps moaning as you punish her as if she was a veteran of anal sex like her unnie Chaewon, not a young girl who to this point had only inserted bananas and butt plugs up her asshole, but never a real cock.

"You like fucking my asshole, daddy?" Eunchae asks. "Yes," you say as you spank her butt. "How about you, bitch?" you reply. She answers positively, but you can clearly tell she's struggling with such a massive cock in her tiny teen asshole, especially with the speed you fuck it. "Don't move that fucking ass; you're getting fucking punished," you say to her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, rub that clit, please. Thank you, Daddy," Eunchae says as it gives her some relief from the fast and deep thrusts you give inside her ass. "Keep going, daddy, you play with my clit so good," she says. "Oh, fuck yes, there you go; look at that ass getting stretched out by that big fat cock," you say, picking up the speed further. "FUCK," Eunchae screams as not even your hands in her clit can make her cope with the heat your cock puts in her asshole.

Luckily for her, you have some mercy and switch back to her pussy, but that doesn't change much, as Eunchae's holes are throbbing hard now. "OH FUCK YES," she screams as your cock goes back to pumping her cunt, losing no speed as it switches holes, staying at the same relentless pace.

"Back in your fucking ass," you say to Eunchae, at this point just toying with her teen holes. "Oh god, you're such a fucking tight slut," you say to her, clapping her cheeks and grabbing her hair. "OH DADDY, IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD, THANK YOU DADDY," she screams. "Open that fucking mouth," you reply, stretching it as you fuck her. 

"Now taste your pussy and ass right there," you say, shoving your cock in her mouth one more time. "You want it back?" you soon ask. "Yes, I want it back in my holes, please," Eunchae answers. "Which hole do you want it?" you keep asking. "Anyone you want, daddy," she replies. "Give me an answer, bitch," you tell her. "I want you to keep fucking my ass," she says. "Say it again," you say. "I WANT YOU TO FUCK MY ASS, DADDY," she screams.

You give Eunchae's ass very heavy poundings. "Fuck yes, put that fucking ass up," you demand. "You like the way my asshole feels on your cock?" Eunchae asks. "Yes, it's so fucking tight, such a tasty little 18-year-old ass," you say as you spank her butt for the hundredth time.

"I want you to fucking cum like the slut you are," you tell Eunchae. "Yes sir, keep fucking my ass like that and I'll cum hard for you," she answers. "You better fucking cum on that cock or I'm gonna punish you," you say, picking up the speed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, OH FUCK," Eunchae moans as her asshole keeps getting stretched out. "Keep going; that feels so fucking good, ahhhh, yeahhh, ohhhh, thank you, daddy," Eunchae moans as you can't stop fucking her ass.

You pull out of Eunchae's ass and pick back the vibrator. "You're gonna cum all over it, do you understand?" you demand as you shove it on her pussy. "Yes, daddy," she answers. You massage her clit hard with it. "Right there," Eunchae says. "May I please cum?" she asks. "CUM," you give her a positive answer, letting her leak a lot of juices all over the table she's tied up to.

You quickly take advantage of Eunchae's weakness and shove your cock in her cunt. "Yes, please, put your cock back in my pussy," she begs. "FUCK, DADDY, I WANNA CUM ALL OVER YOUR COCK, YES, YES, YES, USE MY PUSSY, USE ALL MY FUCKING HOLES, I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING," she screams. "Yes, perfect," you say as you spank her ass and Eunchae cums all over your cock. "Keep that ass up," you continue.

Eunchae takes the little time you give her to breathe, but soon you flip her body around and start spanking her pussy. "I want you to beg again for my cock," you tell her. "I need your cock, need it in my fucking pussy so bad," she says as you put the vibrator back in her pussy. "Keep begging," you tell her. "I want your cock," she says. "It feels so good," she continues as the vibrator massages her clit. "More, you can beg better than that," you say, increasing the speed of the vibrator. "Give me your cock; I need it in my pussy, please, please, please, please," she continues, but you still ignore her pleading.

Eunchae tries to stretch her hands and jerk your cock off as she keeps begging for your cock. "Say it every time I hit you," you tell her, whipping her body. "I want your cock, I want your cock, I want your cock," she repeats countless times. "That's better," you tell her. "Is that what you want?" you ask, shoving it in her pussy. "Yes, thank you, Daddy," she answers.

You fuck Eunchae as you put the vibrator in her clit alongside it. "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, ALL OVER MY CLIT," she screams. "YOU LIKE THAT, YOU FUCKING SLUT?" you ask her as you spank her face. "Yes, daddy, it feels so fucking good. Thanks for fucking me, daddy. Thanks for using my holes," she replies.

You switch back to Eunchae's ass. "Oh fuck, nice and slow," she begs, already completely wasted as the vibrator makes her clit throb further and further. "Yeah, yeah, just like that," she begs. "I want you to cum in my fucking cock again," you say to her. "Please, daddy, may I please cum all over that cock?" she begs. You spank her face. "Right there, right in my clit, FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM," Eunchae says.

"CUM ALL OVER IT, BITCH," you say, picking up the speed as you fuck Eunchae's ass and grabbing her waist. "Oh yeah," you say as she squirts all over your cock. But you don't stop, getting addicted to her teen holes and quickly moving to her pussy again. "OH FUCK, THAT FEELS GOOD, DADDY," Eunchae moans. "Oh yeah, sure it does," you say to her. You now just toy with her holes, switching from pussy to ass from time to time while hitting her face and her tits, treating Eunchae like a fucktoy as you choke her. "Don't get loud, you bratty bitch," you say, rubbing her clit hard and spanking her whole body with that whip.

"Thank you, Daddy, for using me like that," Eunchae says. You fuck her pussy hard, enjoying your cock bulge under her young belly. Then you switch to her ass and choke her harder than ever. The switcheroo keeps going, Eunchae's whole body getting redder and redder, her rolling her eyes and struggling to breathe as you grab her neck with full force and rub her clit. "Please, daddy, rub my fucking little clit; you're gonna make me cum again," Eunchae moans as she gets completely overwhelmed by your moves in her cunt and her clit. "Fuck, just like that," she says.

"Is that what you fucking want?" you ask Eunchae. "Yes, daddy, but I want your cum too," Eunchae answers. "Then beg for my cum," you reply, spanking her face and keeping your fingers all over her clit, playing a lot with it. You spank her pussy and switch back to her ass, fucking it as hard as possible while you choke her. "I want you to make me cum with that fucking ass," you tell Eunchae as you pump it hard, her struggling hard as you have fucked her for nearly half an hour at this point. "You like that fat pussy too?" she asks as you pinch her clit while fucking her ass. "I like you shutting your fucking mouth, you bratty slut," you answer her.

Ass to pussy, pussy to ass, you keep switching, much to Eunchae's enjoyment. "Use my holes, Daddy; pick whatever you want," she begs as you fuck both of them really hard. Her face is now completely red from all the spanking and choking. "I want your cum," Eunchae begs. "Look at this bitch showing her true colors," you say.

"I want your cum all over my face," Eunchae begs as she gets choked and pounded. "Use my holes, use my fucking pussy, use them for your pleasure," she keeps begging. "Open your mouth wider; show me how much you want that cum," you command. But then Eunchae says the words that finally push you over the edge.

"I want you to cum all over my pretty little 18-year-old face," she says. As soon as you hear it, you pull your cock out of her cunt and ejaculate all over her face, covering her full of sperm like a good teen slut. Eunchae sticks her tongue out as she gets glazed, getting herself full of cum from her hair to her chin, kissing your cock as she thanks you for one final time. "Are you gonna start following the rules now?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy," she replies as you slap your cock in her face.

"You're free now," you say to Eunchae. "Thank you, Daddy," Eunchae says. But as soon as she is ready to get out of the dungeon, another girl arrives and catches both of you.

"Looks like she had a lot of fun," Chaewon says as she looks at Eunchae's face completely covered with your semen. "Sure she did," you tell her.

"Let me see how she tastes, hmmmm, delicious," Chaewon says, putting her mouth on your cock and tasting it as it's still full of your cum and Eunchae's juices. "You know, I think we should give her some extra training," she continues.

"Like what?" you ask.

"Let her learn some new positions and turn her into a proper slut," Chaewon says. "Are you ready, Manchae?" she asks her.

"Yes, unnie," Eunchae answers.

"Then sit your ass on his cock," Chaewon commands, and Eunchae obliges, following her unnie's instructions. "Lock her legs; let's see if this slut can take a full nelson," Chaewon instructs you.

"Oh fuck," Eunchae screams as soon as she's completely immobilized. "AHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," she starts screaming as you resume pounding her ass under Chaewon's watch.

"Let me make this a little harder," Chaewon says, getting out of both your sights as she switches clothes while you keep fucking Eunchae, returning with a strap-on attached to her waist.

"Let's see if she can take this in her pussy too," the naughty unnie says.

"FUCKKKKKKKK," Eunchae screams, and her second round at the dungeon is just beginning.

[distantdarlings]

LET ME // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* Theodore Nott has been harassing you ever since he found out you had a crush on him. Now, you’ve been paired together for a project for McGonagall’s class and he has nothing good in mind.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in V), unprotected, sub!reader, Dom!Theo, slightly rough!dom!Theo, marking kink, slight size kink, bulge kink, brief dumbification, brief spit kink, reader wearing a skirt, light enemies to lovers, language, one (1) slap, name-calling, praise kink, slight degradation, public sex, fem!reader, oral (fem!receiving), Theo is persistent, not proof read (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Echo - XANU

- - -

Merlin, forgive whatever you had done to deserve the treatment you were currently receiving.

You thought back on every negative deed you’d done in the last year and still hadn’t found anything worthy of your horrendous luck.

The arrogant boy turned to stare you down, malicious intent etched into the unfortunately gorgeous features of his face.

You could feel your face contort into an expression of horror as you tore your eyes away from him and turned to Professor McGonagall.

“Professor, I—” you started.

“All partner decisions are final—no exceptions!” McGonagall finished, as if trying to answer the question you had before you could even voice it.

You deflated into your seat, your mood dropping like a brick. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have guessed the entire class was staring at you. The entire student body of Hogwarts knew how you felt about your new Transfiguration project partner, Theodore Nott. The bastard…

You glanced back up—arms crossed and lips pouted—just to find the boy still staring you down, evil smirk painted on his lips. He gave you a sardonic wave, wiggling his fingers tauntingly.

“Fuck,” you sighed, pressing an exasperated fist to your forehead.

Your knee anxiously bobbed beneath the desk, the heel of your uniform shoe beating against the floor in a flurried rhythm.

Luna Lovegood, your best friend, was sitting directly next to you. Intuitive as she always was, you knew she could feel the pure panic radiating off of you. Her hand rested on your shoulder in a small motion of comfort, but nothing could calm you now. You were utterly screwed.

McGonagall finished off the rest of her speech on the instructions for her project, then dismissed the whole class. Luna helped you to gather your things together as you struggled to force yourself to move.

Maybe you’d pissed McGonagall off? Merlin, what had you done to deserve this? You asked yourself the same questions over and over again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glimpsed Theodore flouncing over to you with an unnerving glint in your eyes.

“Well, aren’t I just the luckiest man on earth?” he said snidely.

“Fuck off, Theo,” you growled, intentionally not making eye contact with him.

You made to pick up your books and slide them into your bag, when he slammed his hand down on the cover of one of them, pressing them down against the desk. He pinned your fingers beneath them against the wood—just enough to keep them sturdy, but light enough so that it didn’t hurt you.

“Stop!” You yanked your fingers out from beneath the books, the heavy leather smacking against the table with a thud. Now, you made eye contact with him.

“What are we going to do our project on, baby?” he asked.

“Don’t call me that!” You yanked your books out from underneath his strong hold and shoved them quickly into your bag. “We can discuss it in the library after class.”

“I’m looking forward to it—I’ll be sure we get a quiet corner, you know…,” he stepped closer to you, “…so I can explore every inch of…the subject.”

You sneered in disgust and pulled away from him, his voice still rattling in your ears.

“You’re disgusting,” you scoffed. “I’ll see you later for nothing more than our assignment.”

“Looking forward to it…can’t wait to put those big brains to use. Lovegood.” He nodded politely to Luna before heading off.

You glanced at Luna and acknowledged her slight smile. Everything in you was telling you to snap at her and tell her not to encourage any of the delinquent boy’s behavior, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to ever be very mad at Luna Lovegood. At least, not for long.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and took off toward the door, bag swinging between your shoulder blades.

“Wait up, friend!” Luna shouted lightly, running to catch up with you. You snorted and laughed at her, letting her sunlight hair fall into step beside you.

- - -

By the time your last class of the day dismissed and the sun had begun to sink beneath the Hogwarts skyline, you were soaked through with nerves. The saturation of your anxiety had managed to breach every protective barrier you held up, and fill your hands with shudders and your stomach with nausea.

The root of your nerves when it came to Theo came from the consistent comments he insisted on making toward you. It seemed that he loved nothing more than dropping sexual hints into your ear every few days just to watch you squirm. He’d only started this after he’d heard through the grapevine you had a bit of a thing for him.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive, and that his words had absolutely no effect on you, but you couldn’t deny that he was just as annoying as he was charming.

It had gotten to a point when he made those comments that he loved to joke aloud about your reactions to him, effectively embarrassing you in front of all of your peers. That was your final straw. All resemblance of an attraction toward Theo had melted away and been replaced by hatred.

And yet, as your feet led you to the grand library, you couldn’t stop the rapid pattering of your heart beat. Something about the boy had always been so…irresistible to you. Whether it was the way he always knew where to place his hands when he “accidentally” brushed you, or how he knew exactly what to say when he pressed his lips against the shell of your ear. You figured you should be grossed out and tell him to get away from you, but, unfortunately, you kind of liked it when he did those things.

As you came up to one of the several library doors lining the wall before you, you decided to try and swallow your nerves and focus only on the project. That was what you were supposed to do anyway—this wasn’t a date.

You pulled one of the doors open and slipped into the warmly-lit room. It always seemed to be just a tad bit cozier here than anywhere else in the castle—whether that was from the multiple fireplaces or the sweet aroma that floated through the air. Either way, you loved it.

Your neck craned as you glanced about, trying to glimpse the cocky boy, but to no avail. Wherever he was, he surely wasn’t interested in making it easy on you to find him.

A sigh left you as you started toward the back of the library where a couple tables rested behind a few conveniently placed bookcases. Unfortunately, the feeling in your stomach told you that he surely would be sitting at one of those tables, simply because you knew how his dirty, little mind worked.

That corner of the library was…infamous for its concealed nature. Everyone in Hogwarts had heard the little rumors that fluttered about, of couples getting a bit too friendly with each other while the librarian was downstairs.

Because of those rumors, it had garnered a reputation. And if someone who had a penchant for gossip slipped past you and Theodore Nott studying back there, you’d be screwed.

Once you passed the last book case, zigzagging between the three that formed the perfect labyrinth, you came upon Theo comfortably waiting at the table in the middle. A groan of defeat left you and your head dipped back. You stared at the ceiling for a few moments while contemplating your options—you could still run away.

“Hello, beautiful,” Theo said, leaning his chin down on his propped up fists. “I’ve been waiting so impatiently for you.”

“Whatever,” you sighed. You crossed over to the table and sat across from him—the farthest away you could get. Your bag collapsed to the ground and unzipped itself on the way down. The things you needed for this assignment floated out and landed neatly on the table before you, including a few rolls of parchment, a quill and ink, and your books.

He marveled silently, seemingly trying to hide his fascination at your wandless magic. Perhaps if he studied as hard as you did, he would also be able to achieve it.

“Alright, shall we do this?” you asked, maintaining a bored expression.

“I’d love to,” he smirked. “But I’d love to showcase a bit of my magic as well, if that’s alright with you?”

“What—?” Your voice was cut off with a slight gasp as all four legs of your chair lifted off of the ground. Your fingers wrapped around the sides of your seat to keep you from slipping off.

Theo’s eyes followed your chair as it floated over the table and all the way beside him. Once your shoulders were inches from his, your chair dropped a few centimeters to the ground. A small yelp came from you as you regained your balance and glared at him. Perhaps he was a better wizard than you thought.

“What the hell, Theo?” you demanded, immediately scooting your chair away from him, putting a good few inches between you.

“I just thought we’d be able to work better closer together,” he purred, his arm dropping against the table to cage you against him and the bookshelf a bit to your left. You eased away from him so you were closer to the shelves than you were to him. His eyes never dropped from yours. “Merlin, what is that smell? You smell absolutely divine—”

“Okay, let’s just get this done,” you interrupted him, pushing his approaching body back away from you.

“Mm, alright,” he smiled. “Have you decided on a topic you’re interested in presenting on?”

“Actually, I have.” You pulled your books across the table over to where the two of you were sitting, flipping everything to the appropriate page. There were a couple pages in your notebook where you’d jotted some ideas down earlier today, and you’d figured he’d want to see the different ideas, as it was his grade, as well. “So, I threw a couple of ideas together in my fourth period. We can see what you think of them…”

As you explained the details of all of your ideas, it became increasingly obvious that Theo was not at all interested in what you had to say about the project. Though you refused to look directly at him, the corner of your eyes granted more than enough knowledge.

Theo’s eyes were ravenous as they drew down your body, curving across the most private areas of your curves with no shame. You could feel your cheeks burning, but hoped the warm tones from the candles around you would conceal that.

When he scooted a bit closer to you, you kept talking. And when he laid his arm across the back of your chair, you kept talking. And when his fingers began to toy with the ends of your hair, you kept talking. But when he took your quill gently from your fingers and set it down on the table, you finally stopped. You barely made eye contact with him, constantly glancing away and down to the table. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears.

His fingers pulled away from your hair and dropped to your shoulder. They squeezed the hard muscles a few times.

“God, you seem tense,” he spoke lowly, his voice barely above a whisper. His other hand reached up and matched the opposite’s position on your other shoulder.

When he placed a gentle amount of pressure, it expressed a small sigh from your lips. He was right. You were very tense—in general, but especially around him.

“Here, let me…,” he stood and appeared behind you rather quickly.

“Theo, I don’t think this is appropriate. I’d really just—” Your voice cut off as soon as he began to roll your taut muscles beneath his nimble fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, pleasurable jolts of pain shocking across your neck and down your back.

“That’s okay, baby,” he whispered, dangerously close to your ear. “Finish telling me about your idea. I’ll just loosen some things up back here. Fuck, you’re so tight.”

He pressed an especially hard drive against your skin. You bit back a moan at the sensation. You don’t think you’d ever had a better massage in your life.

You wanted to tell him to stop, but it felt so fucking good. And you really were sore around your neck and shoulders.

“Theo?” you tried again.

“Read.” His voice had a commanding tone to it. One hand released your shoulder briefly to grab your books and slide them closer to you, before returning to its position against your skin.

His hands worked their way up around your jaw, cupping it gently, so he could press his thumbs against the back of your neck. You audibly sighed this time without intending to. Embarrassed, you attempted to cover it up with a clear of your throat.

You began to explain the rest of your project plan, small shudders rippling through your voice every time he’d hit an especially sore spot.

By the time he finished and pulled his hands away from you, your body was mourning the loss of him but relishing in the relief it felt. It honestly hadn’t felt far off from a professional massage.

“How’s that?” He walked around to your side, still not sitting back down.

“Er, good,” you chuckled nervously, rubbing your hand along the back of your neck, trying to spread the relief around.

“Perfect,” he smiled, gently swiping his index finger beneath your chin. He sat back down beside you.

“So, what do you think?” you asked.

“About what?”

“The project idea…”

“Oh, yeah, I think it’s wonderful,” he said, shrugging a bit. “I think we can work with it.”

“Theo, did you even listen?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

“Of course, I did,” he chuckled. “It’s just not easy to focus when you have such a gorgeous partner.”

There went your cheeks getting insanely hot again. He thought you were gorgeous? There was no way. Someone must have put him up to this, right? Or he was fucking with you because he knew you had had a bit of a crush on him.

“I—er…” you stuttered hopelessly, pulling your eyes away from his.

He placed a hand on your knee. You could feel the warmth of his skin through your tights. The heartbeat in your ears picked up wildly.

“Don’t be nervous around me.”

“What?” you laughed suddenly. “I’m not nervous, I’m just—you’re just really…friendly? I don’t know. Why are you pretending to be so interested in me? Did someone put you up to it?”

“Why would someone have put me up to flirting with you?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Because they know I had a thing for you,” you blurted before thinking. “I mean—”

“Nope! Can’t take it back now, my love.” Theo chuckled, an evil smirk printing across his lips. “And, for the record, no one put me up to flirting with you. I just want to.”

His hand slid up to the top of your knee as he leaned a bit forward.

“Theo!” you hissed. “We’re in the library—you can’t do that.” Though you verbally protested his actions, you couldn’t deny the heat building in your stomach at his touch.

Despite the conviction you had for needing to decline him and all of his advances, you couldn’t seem to suppress the need you felt for him right now—a different kind. His eyes remained on yours and refused to look away.

The two of you were in the library, and had seemed to despise each other’s company only minutes earlier, but for some reason, you couldn’t force yourself to stop his rising hand.

Soon, his fingers were toying with the edge of your skirt and his lips were millimeters from your own. You could feel his gentle breath against your cheeks.

“Theo…,” you shuddered at his proximity. His thumb slid slowly down the side of your thigh, the contact eliciting chills along your legs.

“You’ve wanted me for months,” he murmured, lips brushing against yours. “Are you finally going to let me fuck you?”

You gasped slightly as the tip of his thumb just barely brushed your core through your panties.

“Say yes, or I’m not going to touch you anymore.”

As if on cue, his hands pulled back from you and his mouth seemed to hover a few inches away. The cold air hit the spot his hand had been occupying on your thigh and sent a row of shivers up your spine.

“I don’t understand. Is this a joke?” you shuddered.

He shook his head slowly. “Not a joke, I just want you. Say yes, baby.”

“Y—” before you were even able to get the singular syllable out, his lips were pressing against yours and devouring them like a predator.

His hand found its place against your thigh again, the other hand following suit on the other one. He pushed them up the expanse of your skin, inching your skirts up in the process.

You moaned against his lips in embarrassment at the sudden loss of dignity.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he sighed against your mouth. “Let me taste you.” He pressed his lips roughly back to yours.

You gasped for air and pulled away, noses brushing against the other. “Say please,” you managed to choke out.”

“What?”

“Say please,” you repeated. “What, did you think I was going to come here and just give you whatever you wanted?”

“Oh, that’s how you’re going to be?” he smirked. You stared back astutely, not yielding to any teasing he tried to give.

“Alright, baby,” he conceded. He pulled himself closer to you and worked his way up your neck and to your ear, pressing chaste kisses against your flesh. “Please let me taste this sweet cunt. ‘ve been dreaming about it for months.”

You shivered at his words before nodding. You weren’t in your right mind—you couldn’t be.

He slid out of his chair and dropped to his knees. His hands wrapped around your hips and yanked you to the edge of the seat. His fingers pushed your skirt up around your hips and angled you up toward his face, pulling your legs over each of his shoulders.

The cool air flushed against the hot wetness slathered across your thighs. But the shock of wintry air was canceled out quickly by Theo’s hot mouth placing against your clothed core.

Your head fell back against the chair as your hands flew to his honeyed curls.

He swirled his lips across you, gathering your lust on his tongue. Each time you let a little moan slip, he’d echo you with his own louder one. It wasn’t loud enough to be heard anywhere else in the library, but it was enough to vibrate against you and send your head spinning.

The second your thighs began to shake on either side of his sharp jaw, he pulled away from you, leaving you bare and wanting.

“Turn around,” he panted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Obstinately, you held your chin up and refused to obey him. You wanted to appear strong and resistant as payment for how much of a dick he’d been to you, but with your quivering lips and legs still spread wide for him, you figured you didn’t quite get the point across.

He suddenly grabbed your jaw in one hand, while undoing his belt buckle with the other. Anticipation boiled in your belly.

“Turn around,” he said before suddenly and mockingly tilting his head to the side. “Or do you not understand what’s good for you?”

When you said nothing, he pulled you out of the chair and bent you over the library table. You yelped as your chest collided with the table.

Once on your stomach, he flipped your skirt over against your back and ripped your panties and stockings down your legs until the soaked things were stuck around your ankles.

Then, without another warning, he was sliding into you and stretching you wide. You gasped aloud and gripped at the smooth table, begging to find purchase on anything.

He moaned slightly at the way you clenched around him. He pushed himself into you a little more with each slow thrust, the movement splitting you down the middle. His hands held you tightly in place by your hips, pinning you down against the table.

“Shit, you feel fucking perfect,” he moaned, fingers gripping into your flesh.

Every alarm bell was ringing in your head, telling you to separate and cover yourselves, because you were in public. But, for some reason, you found yourself loving the thrill of possibly being walked in on; of possibly being found with Theodore Nott buried deep inside of you, taking his pleasure from your body.

By the time he’d finally bottomed out inside of you, he was panting and willing himself not to come prematurely.

“I’ve never felt anything this tight,” he groaned.

You hadn’t been able to see the size of him before he started pushing into you, but you had to guess he was the biggest you’d ever felt. Just having his hips pressed to your ass felt like the tip of him was brushing your cervix.

“Ah, fuck, wait,” he said, panting heavily. He rubbed your back as he slowly pulled all the way out of you and stood you up. He turned you around to face him and laid your back against the table.

He brought your legs around him and you hooked them together behind his back. You watched him with deep admiration as his fingers stroked up and down your legs, preparing to explain what he wanted.

“I want to watch me fill you up,” he whispered, leaning down to press a slow kiss to your lips. It was sweet and thick with saliva but, despite everything else he’d done so far, this set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

His hands came away from your legs and wrapped around your waist. He watched addictively as his fingers curled entirely around your body, his large hands positively dwarfing your small frame. And you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes fill with an inky, black glint as he brought his hips to the underside of your thighs.

He placed his dick on your stomach, reveling in how far up your stomach it went. He moaned at the sight and pulled your right leg up and over his shoulder. He pressed a small kiss to the side of your calf.

“Theo,” you whined, still reeling from the loss of him inside of you. “Please, no more teasing.”

“Be patient, baby,” he whispered against your leg. “I want to remember this moment.”

“Theo,” you urged once more. But his hand came down hard against the outer side of your thigh. You yelped at the pain that radiated down the side of your leg.

“I said to be patient.” He soothed the pain gently with his fingers, still looking down at how big he looked compared to you.

One of the things he’d always had on you was height. No matter if the things he said were stupid and undermining, you couldn’t deny that his size was enough to have the high ground.

“Look, we don’t have all the time in the world,” you sighed, leaning up on your elbows to speak with him. “The librarian could walk in here at any—”

He pushed back into you, choking any other words in your throat. You gasped and fell back against the wooden table, the cold lacquer biting into your flesh.

“Fuck,” Theo all but whined. He pressed his fingers against your lower abdomen where his dick had created a perfect impression. Every time he pulled out then pushed back in, his sheer size forced the body wall up and simultaneously probed a spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling backward.

Without wasting another second, he picked up his pace while dropping his hands down to your still-tucked in uniform shirt. He ripped the material out from beneath the waistband of your skirt, and ripped the buttons apart.

The candles floating overhead illuminated the curves and dips of your stomach, highlighting the valley of your breasts.

Hips still pistoning into you, and left hand holding your waist still, his right hand reached forward again and ripped the clip of your bra apart. Luckily, you’d worn the front access one today.

At the force of the destruction, your breasts fell apart from one another, bouncing against your dampened chest.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Gonna mark this beautiful body. Gonna let everyone know you’re mine. My girl.”

His words sent shockwaves through your system. You tried to reach for him but you couldn’t reach. Your arms fell back down against the table, your lack of anything to hold on to leaving you completely at the mercy of the pace he decided to set.

“T-Theo,” you stuttered, your voice breaking beneath the weight of his abuse.

He leaned down, pushing himself all the way into you for a moment, and latched his lips around a mouthful of your left breast. He sucked roughly on the flesh, pulling the blood to the surface. You whined through the pain that mingled with the pleasure from him below.

Once he was satisfied with the bruise painted on you, he moved toward your neck, sucking and biting just as rough, hips never halting.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Tell me how it feels.” He nibbled on your earlobe.

You said nothing, your lips unable to form enough to make any words come out. Your fingers still gripped uselessly at the sides of the table. One leg was held uselessly over Theo’s shoulder while the other dangled limply over the edge of the table.

He leaned up. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

Still, you made no sound.

“Oh, you pathetic thing,” he whispered, lips pressing to your elevated leg once again. “Am I fucking you stupid? Is that what it is? Yeah, baby? Next time, I’ll shove this dick down your throat and see how quiet you are then, you dumb slut.”

Now, within the final moments before your finish, his thumb dropped to your clit and began to rub small circles into the nerves. Your mouth fell open and your back arched to the ceiling as his hips intensified. They forced your finish closer and closer until you were spilling all over him, coating your legs and his stomach.

At the clenching of your core, his release was barreling forward, as well. He came with a long groan and a slow walk down of the brutal pace he’d set with his hips. His spend, mixed with yours, dripped down your legs.

Finally, with him still inside of you, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours. He eyed you sweetly, caressing soothing lines across your temple with his thumb.

“My sweet girl, you did so well,” he whispered against your lips. “Has anyone else ever fucked you so well?” There was that cocky Theo again.

“Maybe like one other person,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath.

“Oh, yeah? Who?” he asked, suddenly grabbing your jaw again and forcing you to look directly at him.

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” you said. “I think I forgot his name. I’ll probably just forget yours tomorrow, too.” You teased him meanly, smirk building on your lips. This was further payback for all the months of harassment you’d dealt with from him.

He pinched your cheeks together until your lips were pushed open.

“You can forget my name, sweetheart,” he whispered roughly, “but you’ll never forget what I just did to this body.”

His eyes watched yours with an intensity like no other. Then his lips pursed, and you watched as a line of spit dropped into your waiting mouth. It was the ultimate display of humiliation, but also ownership. You belonged to Theo, now.

And even if you forced yourself to forget his name or this day in the library, you’d never wipe the taste of his claim out of your mouth.

“Now, let’s get to work on that attitude, shall we?” Theo asked, voice suddenly chipper again.

He pulled out of you and zipped his pants back up, before selecting his bag off of the chair—which you’d now noticed he hadn’t even unpacked.

“Tomorrow at 6?” he asked.

Then he Disapparated, leaving you entirely exposed and alone.

That son of a bitch.

- - -

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[lostalioth]

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬

→ premise: steve’s favorite thing was to have you in his lap. feeling you impossibly close, your cunt squeezing his cock. he loves the intimacy, you however can’t stand sitting so still.

→ pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, cock warming, begging, daddy kink, nicknames [baby, angel], reader calls him stevie, not proofread

→ a/n: kinktober 13

Steve loved feeling impossibly close to you in any way that he could, entangling your limbs and holding you as tightly as he could as the two of you fell deep into sleep. However he had another way that he loved feeling close and to have those intimate moments with you, one you always seemed too just impatient for.

“Steviee please move your hips just a lil, i've been s’good” you whine out attempting to grind your pelvis down on his trying anything to get friction or movement. He tsks and grabs a hold of your hips keeping you stationary and making it harder to move. even if his cock that was currently buried to the hilt inside you jumps at the little bit of pleasure your desperate squirming gives him.

“Just stay still a little longer, angel okay? Can you do that for daddy?” He coos and rubs his thumb over your cheek as you pout at him and soften your eyes, trying your best interruption of puppy dog eyes. “Nooo come on, just a couple more minutes baby, i like feeling close to you like this” his signature charming smile spreads on his face, the same smile that made you fall for him.

“Buttt i wanna cum daddy, pleaseee i've been good haven't i?” You whine out, dragging out your words as your pussy clenches and continues leaking on his cock coating it in your slick. “Not being so good right now” he hisses out as his patience is being tested by your impatience. Gripping your chin in his hand he pulls your face up close to his, your lips pressed against his as he speaks looking right in your eyes. “You really wanna cum baby?” He questions even though he knew the answer, you just said it and he could clearly feel your pussy throbbing begging for relief.

You nod slowly, your hips trying their hardest to push against his grip now that he was only holding you with one hand. “Then beg, beg to cum on my cock angel” lightly he leaves a peck to your lips before letting go of both your face and your body.

Leaning back against the headboard of the bed, he tosses his arms behind his head and lets your body chase the euphoria of your high by yourself. Your hips immediately buck and fall into a frantic rhythm as you ride him, your pleas falling out of your mouth.

“Pleaseee, i've been good i just wanna cum daddy” you cry out, your eyes screwing shut as his cock rubs along your velvety walls with each drag of your hips. “Wanna cum so bad please, i'll keep cock warming daddy after” you whine, your begging not falling on deaf ears. Steve knew you were always far more patient and pilate in his arms after he’s made you cum a few times, it was a bit of a bad idea to attempt this before that. “Need to cum s’bad pleaseee Steviee” you moan out, your words mushing and slurring together the tighter the knot gets in the pit of your stomach.

“Pleasee daddy, fuck~ cock s’big and feels s’good” you moan out getting a bit sidetracked in your pleas as the pleasure hits your head more, making it go fuzzy as your hips flatter in thier grinding.

Steve holds onto your body taking over, pulling you down flush against his chest as he jackhammers up inside you, his hips smacking against your ass as his cock hits your cervix hard with each thrust. “You can cum angel, cum for daddy” he instructs in his soft tone as his own high is fast approaching, that in all honesty being the only reason he gave in faster than he intended to.

”Fuck!” You scream out in a wanton moan as your climax crashes over, your pussy clenching down hard on Steve’s cock milking his own orgasm out of him steadily after. “Atta girl baby, s’good for me” he coos as the both of you ride out your highs, your body melting into his arms and turning into a pilate dulce mush against him. “Thank you daddy” you mumble out as you bury your face in his neck, attempting to dig your way under his skin if you could.

He smiles as he had finally calmed you down and got what he wanted, to feel as close as he possibly could to you.

His cum slowly leaking out of your puffy cunt that was still wrapped around his cock warming him, helping that feeling along.

→ a/n: i rushed this as its WAY later than when i wanted/needed to post this to be on track with kinktober (there will hopefully be a second post today and 2 tm lmao to get me back on track to finish AGAIN)

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Coffee Crossfire: Part 2

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You own a cafe in Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes’ territory. You occasionally let him hold meetings in the cafe after hours and things usually go well….but not this time.

Part 1

Your anger and frustration towards Bucky fizzled out after two days. You knew that it really wasn't his fault the cafe got shot up. He told you firsthand when you bought the property of the risks of having a business in his territory. But he always reassured you that whatever damage happens, he'd take care of it.

Like a true mob boss, he kept his word.

Even with his busy schedule, he came in every day to help oversee the work that was being done. He wasn't much help though. You'd tell his men what to do, what goes where, how things should look, etc. He just pays for everything.

However, when some of the new tables and chairs came in, you put Bucky to work.

While everyone was working in the front, you and Bucky assembled the furniture towards the back of the cafe. Bucky looked at the instructions and let out a breath of relief, "Thank god these have written out instructions. Not like other instructions where it's all pictures. Shit gets confusing."

You snicker as you lay out the pieces by their labelled sticker, "Honestly, these shouldn't be too hard to do. They're similar to the ones I had before."

"Ready when you are, boss," Bucky says with a smile.

You snort, "Never thought I'd hear you call anyone else 'boss'."

He shrugs, "You're the only one I'll listen to, sugar," he gives you a wink and you look away as your cheeks start to heat up.

You can't deny that Bucky is attractive, funny, and charming. He's also sweet and intimidating, but also caring. Sure what he does isn't lawful in any means, however, he cares for everyone in his family's territory. He knows everyone by name, helps them when they ask, and make sure everyone's protected and safe.

You told yourself when you first met him not get close to him, but years later, you know you're more than close to Bucky. You two are attached to the hip. At first, you considered him as a friend, but in the most recent years, you've started to see him as more. That scares you a little.

You moved to Brooklyn to get away from those feelings and here you are, right back to where you were. All because of Bucky Barnes.

You love him. You know you truly do, you're just not sure if he feels the same. Sure he flirts with you, but he doesn't mean it. You've seen him flirt with a bunch of other people too, so it definitely doesn't mean anything when he flirts with you.

"Sugar, gimme a hand?" he breaks you from your thoughts.

"Sure," you move closer to him, "What do you need?"

"Just hold these two pieces together while I screw this in."

"M'kay," you hold to pieces of a chair together, and Bucky twists the screwdriver to secure them in place. Your face is close to his, you smell the coffee on his breath and his expensive cologne. You see the bags under his eyes and it makes you frown.

"There. Than-what's with the frown?"

"You haven't been sleeping well," when he looks at you confused, you point to his face, "the bags under your eyes. Bucky, you should be at home resting, not spending early mornings with me here."

"It's fine, sugar."

"No, it's not. You should be well rested because you have a lot of work to do-"

"And they're getting done, just not all by me. Things are getting handled, Y/N, don't worry. I wanna be here."

"Why? Nothing much for you to do here. Your guys have it covered."

He shrugs, "Just in case you need me or," he gestures to the furniture pieces, "need someone to help you build furniture." He smiles when you giggle. His heart flutters, "I'll be here every day until you tell me to fuck off."

"But why?" you genuinely ask him in curiosity.

He looks away from you and at the half-assembled chair in front of him, "Because I do what I can for the people I love." He then clears his throat and goes back to assembling the chair.

You stare at him in disbelief. He loves you. Bucky Barnes just said he loves you. He-

Bucky's phone starts ringing and he answers it. He hugs it between his ear and his shoulder as he screws in another piece of the chair, "Yeah?" He listens to the caller and lets out a long sigh, "Alright. I'll be over in a bit. Keep 'em awake. Bye."

You look at him with concern, "Everything okay?"

"Got more info on the guys who shot us up. Need to meet with Romanoff." Bucky grunts as he stands, pocketing his phone. His runs a hand through his brunette locks, "If you're still here when I'm done, I'll come back. Maybe I can get you some food since I know you don't eat when you get too busy."

You stand, meeting his gaze, a soft smile on your lips. Bucky knows you so well and you can't believe its taken you this long to see how he truly feels.

"Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. He's frozen in place and by the time he registers what's happening, you pull away, "I love you. Thank you for always taking care of me and being there for me."

"I, uh-" his face starts turning pink, "Ye-Yeah. Of course, sugar. I-shit." He hides his face in his hands and you can't help but laugh. You've turned The White Wolf of Brooklyn into blubbering, blushing mess.

He drops his hands from his face and he's smiling wide, "You love me? Really?"

"I do. I've loved you for a long time. I-I always hoped you felt the same. I thought you did with the flirting and how you were always there for me. But I'd see you do the same with others so I figured-"

He shakes his head, "No, sugar. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was so confusing. I-shit, Y/N, everything I do and say is because I love you. I love you so fucking much. I'd burn the world for you," he steps closer, placing his hands on your hips, nose grazing yours.

"For a big scary mobster, you're quite the softie, aren't you?"

"Don't let the guys know. It'd ruin my reputation," he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss.

"It's fine. We already know," Steve says as he stands there with his arms across his chest and a smirk on his face.

Bucky frowns, "Way to ruin the mood, Rogers."

Steve shrugs, "Sorry, but we have some important stuff to attend to."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Bucky steps away with a pout, "Sugar-"

You pull him back in for a kiss and he's quick to kiss you back this time. You then break the kiss with a grin, "Go take care of business, boss."

Bucky is a little dizzy and has a goofy grin on his face, "You got it, boss." He pecks your lips one last time and then steps away, "Got another reason to call you sugar now."

"Yeah?"

He nods, "'Cause your lips taste so sweet," he says with a wink and follows Steve out of the cafe.

You're not sure how you can get back to work after that kiss and confession. But you'll have to do your best!

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝐈'𝐦 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐞 𝐀 𝐃𝐚𝐝 || 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 ||

A/n: girl dad Billy 👏, finally writing it out like I said I would.

It starts with silence.

Not the kind that lingers after a fight or fills the void between words—but a stunned, hollow sort of quiet that falls over Billy Hargrove the moment you whisper those three impossible words in your bedroom:

“Billy, I’m pregnant.”

He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t curse. He just… stares.

His knuckles are white where they grip the edge of your dresser, and you can see the panic rising behind his eyes, blue like ice thawing too fast. His breathing gets shallow, uneven, and you reach for him gently—only for him to pull back like your touch burns.

“No,” he mutters, voice cracked. “No, no, no, I can’t—fuck.”

“Billy—” You move toward him again, slow this time.

“I’m gonna end up just like him.” The words fall from his lips like they’re poisoned. “I’m gonna mess this kid up. Like Neil did to me. Like—like I wasn’t supposed to survive him, and now you want me to raise a fucking kid?”

Your heart breaks a little. Not for yourself—but for him. For the terrified boy still living inside the man who’s trying so hard not to fall apart.

You step closer, even when he backs up.

“You’re not him.”

He shakes his head, lips trembling. “You don’t know that.”

“I do. Because you already love more fiercely than he ever could. You’re scared—fine. Me too. But I know you, Billy. I know what kind of father you won’t be. And I know what kind of father you could be… if you let yourself believe it.”

He sits on your bed like the weight of the truth finally crushed him. You kneel in front of him, pressing his hand gently against your stomach. It’s still flat, but it’s real. So is this. So are you.

“I’m not doing this without you,” you whisper. “And you don’t have to do it alone.”

Day's later.Billy finds himself at your home with a fresh bruise on his cheek, bag slung over his shoulder as he stands rigid at the doorway, a bundle of nerves dressed in his usual denim and defiance. Your dad watches him with that quiet, unreadable stare—before sighing and motioning him inside.

“Come in, Billy. She’s in the kitchen. But you and I need to talk first.”

Billy looks like he might bolt—but he doesn’t. Instead, he nods.

Ten minutes later, your mom catches the two of them on the back porch—your dad with a cold beer in one hand, his other on Billy’s shoulder. Not a threat. Not a lecture. A promise:

“You’re part of this family now. We don’t leave each other behind.”

Billy doesn’t say anything, but when he looks over at you through the kitchen window, his eyes are wet.

Week's have passed and now he finds himself building the crib in your room....his room.

Cursing under his breath, a screwdriver tucked behind his ear, a tiny instruction manual half-crumpled beside him. He doesn’t notice you watching from the doorway until you smile.

“You’re putting the side rails on backward.”

He groans, mutters, “Goddamn stupid screws,” but doesn’t stop smiling either.

Later that night, you find him curled against your belly in bed, talking softly—nervously—to the baby. He doesn’t know you’re awake. He says things like, “I don’t know what I’m doing,” and, “You’ve got your mom’s heart—thank fuck for that.”

Your fingers slide into his hair, and he exhales, grounding himself against you.

“You’re gonna be a great dad, Billy.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he presses a kiss just above your navel and breathes:

“Yeah. I think maybe I will be."

Month's have passed and now you were giving birth, the delivery room is in chaos.

Monitors beep in erratic rhythm, nurses move with practiced urgency, and your hand is crushing Billy’s fingers like a vice.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart—so fucking good—”

His voice is raw. Trembling. His forehead pressed against yours as sweat slicks both your skin. You’re panting, sobbing, screaming through the pain, but his touch is there. Constant. Unflinching.

He doesn’t let go. Not once.

“Almost there, one more push!” the doctor says.

You scream again, and Billy’s free hand braces behind your back, holding you steady, whispering, “You’ve got this, I love you, I love you, I love you—”

And then—

A cry.

Not yours. Not his.

A high, raw, brand-new sound that shatters the world and puts it back together all at once.

The room shifts. Slows. The chaos fades into the background as the nurse lifts a small, squirming bundle and says the words that sucker-punch Billy square in the heart:

“Congratulations. You have a daughter.”

Billy freezes.

You’re crying, gasping through exhaustion and joy, but he just stares. His eyes are locked on the tiny thing being cleaned and swaddled, and he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t breathe.

“Billy,” you whisper.

He blinks, like you woke him from a dream. When the nurse comes to place her in his arms, he hesitates.

His hands hover.

“I—” His voice cracks, hoarse and small. “I don’t want to break her.”

The nurse smiles gently. “You won’t.”

He takes her. Slowly. Carefully.

And then he looks down.

This tiny thing, wrapped in soft pink, blinking up at him with unfocused eyes. Her face is red and squished and perfect. His thumb brushes her cheek, and she whimpers, nuzzling toward his chest like she already knows him.

That’s when it happens.

Billy Hargrove breaks.

He sinks into the chair beside your bed, arms curled protectively around her, and sobs.

Full-body, gut-wrenching sobs—tears that have been locked away for years. The grief of his childhood, the fear, the self-hatred—all of it pours out of him in silent, shaking waves.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he chokes, tears soaking her hat. “I don’t know how to be anything but angry and scared—”

You reach for him, stroking his hair, your voice a whisper:

“You’re already doing it. You stayed. You love her. That’s more than he ever gave you.”

He presses a trembling kiss to his daughter’s forehead.

“I’m not gonna be like him. I swear to god, baby, I’m not.”

“You’re nothing like him, Billy.”

She lets out a soft coo, her fingers curling around his pinky like she’s sealing the promise.

And for the first time in his life, Billy Hargrove feels peace.

Not because the fear is gone—but because he’s not facing it alone.

He has you.

And now he has her.

[megaderping]

I feel like when people emphasize Akechi's murders, they often act like his motivation only boils down to "daddy issues" or they really make light of the impacts societal discrimination can have on a person. "But Futaba didn't end up like Akechi," I've seen people say, but the thing is, Akechi is meant to show the worst case scenario. Someone without anyone left to uplift him, to ground him, and to give him a reason to be better. Futaba had Sojiro, though that hardly justifies her mother's death, nor the horrible mistreatment from her relatives or what Shido put her through by framing Wakaba's death as a suicide. Futaba was in a very dark place, and she needed a helping hand. The Phantom Thieves saved her. But Akechi didn't have that helping hand when he needed it most. He lost his mother at a very young age, endured the foster system, never finding a new forever home, and at his absolute lowest point, was granted power he didn't understand with no one to guide him, and wanted to get close to Shido to one day backstab him and give him a taste of his own medicine. The murders came later, when Shido "instructed him." And given the way Shido yells at Akechi about what happens to people who cross him, and given what he did to Futaba (the men in suits), his cleaner, and how many people he had on his side, on top of Sojiro making it very clear how cutthroat Shido was to his enemies... Akechi was screwed no matter what. His face, his name, all of it could be used to ruin him in the real world. Alone, he would not have been enough to go through Shido's Palace, given how much trouble the Phantom Thieves had as a group. Plus, y'know, this:

Something so many people ignore when they talk about Akechi and his murders and ignore everything else the narrative tries to say about him.

What P5 tries to say about Akechi is so important to its core themes. That, if Akechi hadn't been a victim of so much injustice, he might have never gone to such lengths. That doesn't undo the damage he's done, but it's so important to understanding why the game approaches him with sympathy rather than writing him off as pure evil. Because it didn't have to be this way. If he had just met Joker sooner, if he had just had somebody. Akechi represents what can happen to vulnerable children who are failed by systems meant to uphold justice and other ideals, and how those who have nothing, who have only ever been hurt, are far more likely to lash out in turn. Persona 5 places so much importance on the suffering of children and the ways society needs to improve for the sake of children. That, I think, is one of the key reasons Akechi is framed as a victim. He is a warning, a cry to do better.

[pixie-felix]

Ballbusting SKZ

word count: 3.1k genre: extremely kinky smut headcanon content: sub!skz x fem!reader, ballbusting, lots of begging/other subby behaviour, explicit warnings under the cut.

I would apologise for contaminating the Hollow promo pictures with ballbusting smut, but I don't want to. Besides, how was I supposed to resist something so fitting? It's too easy. Look at them, holding their balls in fascination, so appropriate. Though they'd be inspecting them in a slightly different way than they would after a good ballbusting.

This is the kinkiest shit I've written so far, you have been warned.

explicit warnings: ballbusting (obviously), suction pumps, humblers, emasculation, butt plugs, humilation kink, hot wax, edging & oragsm denial, weight training/inappropriate use of squats, mentions of bullet vibrators, feminisation, lingerie/panty fetish, mentions of strap ons, dry humping, one joke about JYPapi's demise, mentions of dick pics, ballbusting: stepping & kicking, Han having insane libido/being the horniest little freak, chastity cages, ice, erection wilting, precum as lipgloss, ballbusting: flicking & pinching, titty sucking/nursing handjobs, ballbusting: squeezing, ballbusting: slapping, puppy play, brat!Seungmin, inappropriate use of slip/choke chain leashes, Seungmin’s is a little bit toxic (cheating roleplay), ballbusting: biting, Jeongin is a vengeful menace

Chan. ~suction pumps & humblers~

Taking care of everyone all day, being a single dad to seven rowdy kids… sometimes Channie needs someone to take charge. 

So crack out the humbler, and take away two of his problems: his balls. 

A little emasculation can be quite relaxing, you know.

Bonus points if you pump them all plump and swollen first, increasing the suction until it's just on the right side of painful.

You'll know you're there when he's taking deep, steadying breaths, hands fisted in the sheets, abs and thighs tensed with the effort of not moving, and begging for just a little more.

Don't give it to him. 

Soothe him with sweet words, maybe jerk his dick a little (unless you're pumping that too, in which case, brava).

Once you've got them all red and oversensitive, instruct him to bend over the bed and spread his legs.

His ass too, if you're feeling extra kinky or if he's been a very good boy. Personally I'd recommend that pretty jewelled butt plug. The Fendi logo looks so pretty peeking out from between those cheeks.

Stroke down his back slowly, letting your fingers drag deliciously over his sweaty skin while you whisper sweet assurances in his ear. He is doing enough. He's working so hard, everyone is so proud of him. You're so proud of him. He deserves a nice reward.

So listen to his pretty whimpers as you cup his sore balls, kiss them gently as he holds the humbler in place– thighs trembling as you screw it tighter– trapping them securely.

What you do after that is up to you.

He won't be able to stand up straight, so maybe sit at the end of the bed, and let him eat you out like the good boy he is.

Or maybe you just want to relax and watch a movie, in which case lay Chan next to you on the bed. On his back, almost folded in half, with his ankles tied to the headboard and legs supported by a spreader bar.

Just make sure there’s enough give in rope that they’re not literally against the headboard, man needs to breathe.

If you feel like indulging in a little humiliation kink, leave the bedroom door open so any members walking past can get a glimpse of their leader with his favourite Fendi accessory.

Minho. ~hot wax & orgasm denial~

We all know pissed off Minho is a good look.

You know what’s better? Pissed off Minho, tied to a chair, naked from the waist down.

With his previously-crisp white shirt covered in lipstick kisses, and those famous thighs spread and secured so as not to distract from the prize: 

His dick, angry and erect. Leaking precum. Staining his shirt.

But this is ballbusting 101, and delicious as his cock might be, it’s not getting our full attention today. At least not enough to let him cum.

Minho always gets pegged lol as the brat tamer dom type, and while I’m definitely not disputing it, no one wants to dom all the time. 

Sometimes, you need a little romance. 

What’s traditionally used to set the mood for a romantic night in?

Candles.

By that logic, dripping hot wax over your boyfriend’s thighs, cock, and balls counts as romance, right? 

(You might want to gag him because you are going to get cussed out, and you’ll still be able to hear his pretty whimpers through whatever you stuff in his mouth to shut him up.)

Panties are always a good choice, though a classic ball gag is good too.

Or, don't gag him at all and let him spit venom at you while you tease him: lick his tip, suck hickeys onto his thighs, hold his gaze as you graze your teeth over his balls.

Get him worked up enough and all that venom will detoxify into the prettiest little whimpers. Especially if you intersperse the little drips of pain with soothing kisses.

Soothe that brief burning sensation with soft little licks, nuzzle his sack, rest your head on his thighs and look up at him adoringly. 

You’re not hurting him, right?

Especially when you wrap your lips around his tip, giving him your best doe eyes as you hold the candle over his thighs and let the wax drip. It’ll leave such pretty speckles over his skin.

Almost as pretty as the sounds coming out of that pissed off pout. 

Well, it was a pout. Now it’s just needy lip biting, narrowed eyes and flushed cheeks as Minho watches you cover his dick in spit and his balls and thighs in little burning wax freckles.

If it gets too much all he needs to do is ask you to stop.

He tells himself he will not beg you to let him cum.

He's lying.

Just be careful how much you blue ball Minho, because there will be consequences.

Changbin ~weight training~

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Binnie loves the gym.

He’s a big softie, and being able to lift heavy things makes him feel strong and secure.

But everyone likes to feel a little powerless sometimes, so why not include his favourite hobby? 

Weight. Train. His. Balls. 

Get some of those cute little clip-on ones, and either attach them to a cock ring (if you’re feeling nice) or directly to his sack (if you’re feeling less nice, or he begs sweetly enough). 

Oh, there’s so many things you can do with weights.

Binnie will tell you himself, it’s important to switch up your movements- doing the same exercise again and again is good up to a point, but you don’t want to strain something especially not your testicles.

So... switch things up.

Squats are perfect for this kind of play.

There are so many variants- deep squats, wide stance, Cossack. hah, sack.

Jumping squats might be a little too far, but static squats are perfect. Get him to go low, and then… well, the world is your oyster.

Avoiding the urge to make a rocky mountain oyster pun... Please don’t bite Binnie’s balls. That’s Ayen’s thing.

Tug on them, twist them, pull them up and down, drop them and let them bounce– the weights or his balls, domme’s choice.

Play with them like a Newton’s cradle.

Tickle him. Make him do his cute little Binnie giggles, then tuck a bullet vibrator behind his balls and see how many reps he can do. 

Bonus: You know who else loves weight lifting? Chan. And as the saying goes, sharing is caring…. ballbusting can be a wonderful bonding experience.

Plus you can turn it into a competition– see who can cope with the most weight.

Y’know, for science.

Hyunjin- ~lingerie and lace~ 

Hyunjin loves buying you pretty things, loves getting to dress you up like a doll.

Especially lingerie– baby dolls, camisoles, stockings, garters. Bra-and-panty sets in every colour. Anything involving lace. 

There's only one thing he loves more than seeing you in lingerie.

When you make him wear it.

He feels so good when you coax him into a french lace thong and thigh highs, in the prettiest shade of pale pink to compliment the blush on his cheeks.

Or boy shorts, in baby blue, too tight to contain his package– his tip poking out of the waistband, his balls peeking out either side. 

He'll wear a bra too, if you'll let him– buying a matching pair, one in your size and a twin for him.

He's happy to worship you when you're in your matching sets, hell, he'll beg you to let him. Even more so if you'll put on a strap for him to suck.

He's also a happy bunny when you two make out for hours, touching each other through your lace, grinding on each other, dry humping. Any kind of teasing really. He loves it when you deny him.

So leave him at home all day, in a see-through babydoll and too-tight panties, with strict instructions and not to touch himself, and a gentle request for him to send you cute selfies throughout the day.

The amount of lace-strained dick pics you have in your phone would give JYP a heart attack.

Possibly several. Maybe enough to kill him. And you could make Hyunjin wear lingerie to the funeral oh shit that's dark.

You won't just get selfies.

You'll get voice notes, begging you to come home. Begging you to let him cum.

Five second clips of him, with real tears in his eyes, begging you to let him touch himself.

Eventually, he'll snap, and you'll get a video of him desperately trying to get off, rubbing against the couch or humping your side of the bed, biting into the pillow to keep himself quiet. Crying out for you when he cums in his panties.

He won't change out of them.

You'll find him waiting by the door, kneeling, blushing in his cum stained shame, the lace now dried and stretched too tight around his wilted cock and balls.

His thighs will be spread, waiting for his punishment.

To step on his dick, or to kick his balls? Let him decide.

Better yet, make him beg for it.

Han ~chastity, ice, & pre-cum lipgloss~

You know what I said about not blue balling Minho unless you’re in the mood for consequences? 

The opposite is true for Hanji. 

Really, unless you want to be trapped in the sheets all day, you don’t have a choice. This man is the victim of his own crazed rodent libido.

It doesn’t matter how many times he’s cum, he’s ready to go again within ten minutes.

Five, if he’s feeling particularly needy. Which he usually is.

And of course, by ready to go, I mean he’s practically humping your leg. Pouting and whining and begging you to let him cum again– wherever you’ll let him.

Tits, toes, tongue? Anywhere, he doesn’t care. 

Oh, and if you let him cum inside you there’s a 40% chance he might die of happiness. Don’t worry though, his cursed sex drive will have him resurrected and back on his bullshit in a few minutes. Really, someone should study him. For science.

But sometimes you’re not in the mood for a weekend's worth of sex crammed into an afternoon.

Sometimes you’re feeling mean.

And sometimes, Han will shyly hand you one of his most favourite special toys, too nervous and needy to ask. 

Just hoping you’ll understand what it is he wants when he bats his boba eyes at you, tongue nervously flicking over his lips as you take the toy from him.

You can make him ask for it, if you enjoy watching him stuttering and blushing as you run your thumb up and down the chastity cage, weighing it in your palm.

You can’t put a chastity cage on a boner, so Han’s got to calm down first. Easier said than done, when slapping and pinching his balls only makes him harder.

Luckily there is one fail safe way to wilt any erection: ice. 

So grab a handful of ice cubes and start playing.

Take them one by one and run them up and down his shaft, listening to him whimper and watching him squirm as the cubes melt, water so cold it almost burns as it runs down his cock and gathers at the base, trickling over his balls and making an ice-chilled pool for them to sit in.

Once he’s soft enough, you can coax him into the cage– if he hasn’t already thrust himself into it.

You’ll have to work quickly, because the moment he feels the metal around him he’s going to chub up again, fast. It might be an idea to grab some bondage twine– ribbons or rope, even shoelaces will do in a pinch– and tie his balls up too. Extra tight, just the way he likes it.

There’s only one problem with horny boys in cock cages. And that is that they tend to leak. Constantly.

So now you’ve got a squirmy, whimpering Hannie, with his balls throbbing in a pool of ice water and his poor caged cock weeping precum. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: some guys look really pretty wearing their own cum as lipgloss.

So swipe a little from his tip, and gloss that pretty pout, smearing his pre over his lips while you flick and pinch his chilled balls.

Enjoy.

Felix ~titty sucking & ball squeezing~

Felix is a good boy. Good boys get whatever they want.

And what Lixxie wants is a nursing handjob.

Except skip the handjob, and bust his balls instead, please. 

You might be a little hesitant the first time. Who wouldn’t be? But when the goodest boy looks up at you with his best boba eyes, there’s no way you can deny him. 

So let him lie across your lap and bury his face in your breasts, snuggling into you, getting himself comfortable.

He loves being cuddled like this, happily suckling on your nipples and looking up at you with half lidded, blissed out eyes.

So stroke his hair out of his eyes and cuddle him close, and enjoy the intimacy.

Just don’t be surprised when takes your hand and brings it to his balls, showing you exactly how and where he wants to be touched.

He'll guide you at first– covering your hand with his and squeezing his balls, starting fairly gently and working up until it’s hard enough to make him mewl. 

When he moves his hand away, don’t stop. Just keep squeezing and let him enjoy himself. He knows the safeword, he’ll let you know if you need to stop.

He’s tougher than he looks and he loves the breathless, helpless feeling of having his nuts in a vice grip.

Plus he’s not beyond being bratty to get what he wants, and he will bite your nipples if you’re not being rough enough.

Once you're comfortable with it, don’t limit yourself to just squeezing his balls. Get creative with them– pull, twist. Spank

The first time you slapped them, he came instantly.

Now he begs for it.

Seungmin ~neuter the pup~ (temporarily)

There is only one occasion where it's acceptable to use a choke chain lead. 

And that's when Seungmin has been a bad puppy. But you don’t use it on his neck. Don’t be silly. 

Use it on his balls.

It's almost like neutering him, the only thing saving him from castration being the unbreakable safety clasp– enough to stop the chain from pulling too tight. It still hurts like a bitch though.

Just the way brat!Minnie likes it.

But neutering only happens once in a dog's life, so this punishment must be saved for special occasions. Plus Seungmin loves it so much, and you wouldn't want him to get greedy.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Seungmin is a bratty sub. But regular bratting out isn't enough to earn him this punishment.

No. This requires commitment. The kind kind of commmittment where you push the boat out, jump over the side, and let yourself drown a little bit.

So you let him take you to a club, sitting you at the bar with his card for your tab. And then, with your permission, he disappears into the crowd, not reappearing until he's found another girl who looks suspiciously like you.

Subtly pulling her into your eyeline, enough distance and dancing bodies between you that you can't hear what he's saying, but the way he brushes her hair off her shoulder so he can whisper in her ear.

Seungmin’s eyes never leave yours. He would never cheat on you. Not really. You carefully planned this scenario out between the both of you, boundaries established.

And most importantly, consequences were discussed.

It still makes you burn when he dips his head, making sure to hold your gaze while he slips his tongue into her mouth. You leave once the jealousy in your gut borders on violence. He'll come home later. Your instructions were crystal clear.

Wait for him on the couch. Legs crossed, lingerie on, sipping something sweet from a martini glass as you wait for him to walk through the door.

And walk through he does. Dark eyes, lipstick marks on his shirt, tie loose and askew as he looks at you. Tongue nervously flicking over his kiss-bruised lips... Awaiting your judgement.

Bad. Puppy.

He knows the instruction, muscle memory obeying immediately as he starts to undress– unbuttoning his shirt, flicking open his belt, tugging his pants and underwear to his knees before sinking onto the carpet.

Dogs don't wear clothes and walk on two feet, after all.

Once he's appropriately undressed, make him go and get it. Puppies love playing fetch, after all.

So sit back and enjoy the view as he crawls back to you on his hands and knees, leash in his mouth, cock already hard and leaking, bouncing pathetically against his stomach with every step.

His eyes sparkle with excitement as you take the leash from his mouth, shaking with the effort of staying still until you tell him to turn around and present.

Ass up. Head down. Thighs spread. Trembling as you slip the choke chain around his precious parts, and whining gently as you start tugging it, tightening it around his balls.

Don't stop until the pressure makes him yelp.

I swear, one day I will move on from puppy play Minnie. But that day is not this day. Tomorrow doesn’t look likely either.

Jeongin ~a demon with dimples~

Ball busting is not the maknae’s favourite thing.

Sometimes he's in the mood for it, if he's feeling particularly submissive and kinky. The submissive part being more important, he's always kinky.

But most of the time he's not up for it.

You know what he is up for though?

Helping you ballbust his hyungs.

Call it tough love.

Call it revenge.

Call him a kinky little fucker, because it's true.

And the hyungs?

They love it.

He’ll tease them with tender little kisses to their cocks, nuzzling and kitten licking their sacks, looking up at them with his biggest and best puppy eyes.

And then he bites.

He shared his ball busting experience with Felix and while it wasn’t really his thing– the ball busting or the sharing, he’s a possessive little shit– that’s how he discovered his sadist tendencies. 

Put the two of you in charge and the rest of them are in for an interesting night.

Jfc there’s going to be so much cum. Have the wet wipes ready. And arnica for any bruises. And an entire drugstore’s worth of bubble bath flavours. Aftercare is important.

fin.

Mmm, I have mixed feelings about this. I usually try to keep headcanon bios the same length... Clearly I was more inspired by some sceanrios than others. Might write these out properly, might leave them as they are. Who knows 💁‍♀️.

m.list

Taglist: @sthaay @bluesungology @chrizzztopherbang @avnche @kemkem33 @mikaelless @lvrgrl-xo @eevenus @furioussheepluminary @sheerfreesia007 @aasthamoon @amazinglystay @delulustardust @galaxy4489 @lil-bear08 @abby-loves-aphrodite @a-jazzy-bitch @minhooofr taglist is open.

[archivegyu]

masterlist

five steps back

kim mingyu x reader || 6k words

The apartment feels too big now, even though it’s the same cramped two-bedroom they’d shared for the past three years. She sits on the edge of their bed—her bed now—staring at the indent on the other side of the mattress where Mingyu used to sleep. His pillow still smells faintly of his cologne, that woody scent that used to make her feel safe when she’d bury her face in his neck during lazy Sunday mornings.

Five years. One thousand, eight hundred, and twenty-six days of shared breakfasts, inside jokes, fights that ended in tearful apologies, and dreams built together like a house of cards that finally collapsed under the weight of reality.

She picks up her phone, thumb hovering over his contact. Kim Mingyu. The photo is from last summer—him at the beach, sandy hair catching the golden hour light, that brilliant smile that could make her forget every worry in the world. His laugh lines are prominent in the picture, the same ones she used to trace with her fingertips when he’d fall asleep first, sprawled across the bed like he owned it, arms reaching for her even in unconsciousness.

The cursor blinks next to his name. She’s typed and deleted twelve different messages in the past week. How are you? Too casual. I miss you. Too desperate. Can we talk? Too hopeful.

Instead, she sets the phone aside and walks to the kitchen, where the coffee maker still has settings for two cups. Mingyu always complained that she made it too weak, but he’d drink it anyway, adding extra sugar and giving her that fond, exasperated look that said you’re lucky I love you without words.

The silence in the apartment is deafening. No more of his off-key humming while he cooked, no more random dance breaks in the living room when his favorite songs came on, no more gentle teasing about her habit of leaving books open on every surface. The quiet stretches and warps until it feels like a living thing, pressing against her chest.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Mingyu stares at the ceiling of his new studio apartment, counting the cracks in the paint. Sixteen. He’d started counting them three weeks ago when he moved in, the same day the movers came to split their life into neat, labeled boxes. His things. Her things. The painful negotiations over shared purchases—who gets the coffee table they’d spent hours assembling together, cursing at the incomprehensible instructions while she held the pieces steady and he struggled with the screws?

He’d let her keep most of it. Not out of generosity, but because looking at those objects felt like staring directly into the sun. Every lamp, every throw pillow, every picture frame held too many memories, and he was already drowning in them.

His phone buzzes against his chest. For a split second, his heart races with the impossible hope that it’s her, but it’s just his group chat with the boys. Seungcheol asking if he wants to grab drinks, Soonyoung sending random memes, the usual chaos that used to make him smile. Now it feels distant, like watching life through frosted glass.

He scrolls up through months of messages, finding the ones where he’d complained about being busy with her, canceling plans because she needed him, choosing quiet nights in over loud nights out. The guys had teased him mercilessly about being whipped, and he’d taken it with good humor because it was true. He was completely, utterly gone for her, and everyone knew it.

“You’re different when you’re with her,” Jeonghan had told him once, and Mingyu had taken it as a compliment. He was softer with her, more thoughtful, more careful with his words. She’d taught him patience without trying, shown him that love could be gentle instead of the chaotic whirlwind he’d always imagined.

Now he wonders if different meant losing himself entirely.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.

The grocery store is a minefield of memories. She stands in the cereal aisle, staring at the brand Mingyu always bought—some sugary monstrosity that she’d constantly nagged him about. “You’re going to get diabetes,” she’d say, and he’d grin and add it to the cart anyway, sometimes grabbing two boxes just to make her roll her eyes.

A couple rounds the corner, the woman laughing at something her boyfriend said as he tosses items into their cart with theatrical flair. They’re young, probably college students, and they have that glow of early love, when everything is discovery and promise and endless possibility. She remembers being them, remembers grocery shopping with Mingyu being an adventure instead of a chore, turning mundane errands into opportunities for stolen kisses between the frozen foods and impromptu dance parties in empty aisles.

“Excuse me,” someone says, and she realizes she’s been standing frozen in front of the Froot Loops for five minutes. She mumbles an apology and pushes her cart forward, but everything feels surreal, like she’s moving through water.

At the checkout, the cashier makes small talk about the weather, and she nods along while screaming internally. How is everyone just going about their lives when hers has been completely reorganized? How is the world still spinning when five years of her life have just vanished like smoke?

In her car, she sits with her hands gripping the steering wheel, breathing carefully measured breaths the way her therapist taught her. The engagement ring tan line on her finger has finally faded, but she still finds herself twisting the phantom ring when she’s nervous. Mingyu had been so proud when he proposed, so certain and bright-eyed, like he’d solved some cosmic puzzle. “I want forever with you,” he’d said, voice shaking with emotion, and she’d believed him completely.

Forever turned out to be five years and three months.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Mingyu’s sister calls while he’s attempting to cook dinner in his shoebox kitchen. He considers letting it go to voicemail, but Minseo has been worried about him, calling every few days with increasingly transparent excuses to check on him.

“How are you eating?” she asks without preamble.

“Hello to you too,” he says, stirring instant ramen and feeling pathetic about it. She used to cook for him, elaborate meals that filled their apartment with warmth and the sounds of oil sizzling, her humming contentedly while she worked. She’d wear his oversized t-shirts and nothing else, and he’d wrap his arms around her waist from behind, chin hooked over her shoulder, stealing tastes and making her laugh when his stubble tickled her neck.

“Don’t deflect. Are you eating actual food or just surviving on convenience store meals?”

“I’m making ramen,” he admits, and her sigh is audible.

“Mingyu…”

“I’m fine, Minseo. Really.”

“No, you’re not. You’re miserable, and you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

He wants to argue, but what’s the point? His sister has known him his whole life, watched him fall in love so completely that he’d rearranged his entire existence around another person. She’d liked her too, had welcomed her into the family with open arms, treated her like the sister she’d never had. The breakup had devastated everyone, not just him.

“Have you talked to her?” Minseo asks gently.

“No.” The word comes out harsher than he intends. “There’s nothing to say.”

“There’s five years worth of things to say.”

“And we said them. All of them. That’s why we’re not together anymore.”

The silence stretches between them. Minseo doesn’t understand, can’t understand, because she wasn’t there for the slow, painful dissolution of everything they’d built. She didn’t see the way they’d started speaking to each other like polite strangers, didn’t witness the careful distance that crept between them like frost, didn’t hear the fights that devolved into exhausted silence because they’d stopped believing they could fix what was breaking.

“I just think—”

“I have to go,” Mingyu interrupts. “Thanks for calling.”

He hangs up and stares at his sad dinner, appetite completely gone. Outside his window, Seoul buzzes with Friday night energy, but he feels disconnected from all of it, like he’s watching life happen from behind a wall of glass.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.

She finds the box by accident while looking for her winter clothes. It’s shoved in the back of their shared closet—her closet now—behind old coats and forgotten shoes. Her heart stops when she realizes what it is.

Their memory box. They’d started it as a joke during their first year together, saving ticket stubs and photo booth strips and little notes they’d written each other. Over time, it had become sacred, a physical collection of their love story that they’d add to on anniversaries and special occasions.

With trembling fingers, she lifts the lid. The smell hits her first—his cologne mingled with the vanilla candles she used to burn, creating a scent that’s purely them, purely home. Inside, five years of memories lie carefully preserved like pressed flowers.

Movie tickets from their first official date, when Mingyu had been so nervous he’d bought popcorn with extra butter even though she’d mentioned being lactose intolerant. She’d eaten it anyway, not wanting to make him feel bad, and spent the entire movie in mild digestive distress while trying to focus on his running commentary whispered in her ear.

A napkin from the café where they’d had their first fight, a stupid argument about punctuality that had escalated until they were both near tears. They’d talked it out over lukewarm coffee and stale pastries, learning how to disagree without destroying each other. “We’re going to have to figure this out,” she’d said, “if we want this to work.” And they had, for a while. They’d gotten so good at compromise, at bending without breaking, at choosing love over pride.

Polaroids from their friends’ wedding, where they’d danced until their feet hurt and made drunken promises about their own future ceremony. Mingyu had spun her around the dance floor like they were the only two people in the world, dipping her dramatically while she laughed until her stomach hurt. “You’re going to marry me someday,” he’d whispered against her ear, and it hadn’t been a question. It had been certainty, solid as gravity.

A USB drive labeled “Our Songs” in Mingyu’s messy handwriting. Playlists he’d made for road trips, for quiet mornings, for when she was stressed about work. Hours of music that had soundtracked their relationship, songs that would probably make her cry for the rest of her life.

At the bottom of the box, wrapped in tissue paper, is the promise ring he’d given her for their second anniversary. Not an engagement ring, but a placeholder, a symbol of intention. “Someday,” he’d said, slipping it onto her finger, “when we’re ready for forever.” She’d worn it faithfully until he’d replaced it with the real thing, and even then, she’d kept it close, a reminder of when their love was still growing instead of slowly dying.

She holds the ring up to the light, remembering the girl who’d worn it, who’d believed so completely in their future together. That girl feels like a stranger now, naive and hopeful in a way that seems almost reckless. How do you mourn a version of yourself that no longer exists?

࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Mingyu’s mother invites him for Sunday dinner, and he goes because he doesn’t have the energy to make excuses anymore. The family meal feels strange without her there, like a song missing its harmony. His parents had loved her, had already started treating her like a daughter, asking about her work and her family and fussing over her the way they fussed over their own children.

“How is she?” his mother asks carefully, setting down a plate of his favorite kimchi jjigae.

“I don’t know, Mom. We don’t talk anymore.”

His father looks up from his rice. “Maybe you should.”

“What would be the point?”

“Closure,” his mother suggests. “Or… maybe you’d realize you made a mistake.”

Mingyu sets down his spoon, suddenly angry. “It wasn’t a mistake. We tried everything. Counseling, space, compromise—nothing worked. We just… we grew apart. It happens.”

“Five years doesn’t just disappear overnight,” his father says quietly.

“It doesn’t disappear at all. That’s the problem.”

The weight of those five years sits on his chest like a stone. Five years of birthday celebrations and holiday traditions, of learning each other’s languages of love and comfort. Five years of building a life together, making plans, dreaming about children and houses and growing old together. All of it still exists, but in the past tense now, preserved like artifacts from a civilization that no longer exists.

He remembers their last real conversation, the one where they’d finally admitted what they’d both been avoiding. They’d been sitting on opposite ends of their couch, the space between them feeling like an ocean.

“I don’t think we’re making each other happy anymore,” she’d said, voice barely above a whisper.

And he’d wanted to argue, to fight for them the way he always had, but the truth was crushing and undeniable. They’d become ghosts of themselves, going through the motions of love without feeling it, staying together out of habit instead of desire.

“I know,” he’d replied, and those two words had contained the end of everything.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.

The coffee shop where they’d met is exactly the same. Same mismatched chairs, same chalkboard menu, same indie music playing just a little too loud. She orders her usual—medium coffee, oat milk, no sugar—and sits at a table by the window, watching people hurry past on the sidewalk.

She’d been a graduate student then, stressed about her thesis and surviving on caffeine and determination. Mingyu had been at the next table over, phone pressed to his ear, having what sounded like a heated discussion with someone about modeling schedules and photo shoots. When he’d hung up, he’d caught her looking and had given her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” he’d said. “Work drama.”

“No problem. I’m just jealous that your work drama sounds more interesting than my academic drama.”

They’d started talking, and one conversation had turned into two hours of effortless connection. He’d been funnier than she’d expected, self-deprecating and warm, asking genuine questions about her research and listening to her answers like they mattered. When her laptop had died mid-conversation, he’d offered to buy her coffee while she figured out her next move.

“I’m Mingyu,” he’d said, extending his hand with that smile that had made her stomach flip.

“Nice to meet you, Mingyu.”

She’d given him her number before she’d fully processed what was happening, saying yes to dinner before her rational brain could interfere. It had felt like destiny, like the universe aligning to put them in the same place at the same time.

Now she sits in the same spot, drinking the same coffee, and wonders if she’d made a different choice that day—left when her laptop died, been too shy to maintain eye contact, said no to dinner—would she be sitting here feeling like half of herself had been surgically removed?

A young couple at the counter catches her attention. The girl is laughing at something the guy said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek while he orders for both of them. They look so young, so sure of themselves, so completely unaware that love isn’t always enough.

She pays for her coffee and leaves quickly, unable to watch their beginning when she’s still processing her ending.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Mingyu runs into Seungcheol at the gym, and his friend immediately starts hovering like a concerned mother hen.

“You look like shit,” Seungcheol says with characteristic bluntness.

“Thanks. Really needed to hear that today.”

“I’m serious. When’s the last time you went out? Had fun? Talked to another human being who wasn’t forced to interact with you for work?”

Mingyu increases the speed on his treadmill, hoping the physical exertion will shut down this conversation. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re a hermit. A sad, lonely hermit who’s wasting away in his depression cave.”

“It’s been three months, Cheol. I’m allowed to be sad.”

“You’re allowed to grieve. You’re not allowed to disappear.”

Seungcheol hops on the treadmill next to him, matching his pace. “The guys are worried about you. Hell, I’m worried about you. This isn’t healthy.”

“What’s healthy? Moving on like five years meant nothing? Dating someone new before I’ve even processed what happened?”

“I’m not saying date someone new. I’m saying rejoin the world. Remember that you exist outside of that relationship.”

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Mingyu isn’t sure he does exist outside of that relationship. For five years, he’d been half of a whole, and now he’s trying to figure out how to be complete on his own. Everything he’d enjoyed, everywhere he’d gone, everyone he’d been—it was all connected to her, woven together so tightly that separating them feels impossible.

“She was my best friend,” he says quietly, and Seungcheol’s expression softens.

“I know.”

“I told her everything. She knew me better than I know myself. And now she’s just… gone. Like she never existed.”

“She did exist. That relationship happened, and it mattered, and it’s okay to miss it. But you can’t live in the past forever.”

Mingyu knows Seungcheol is right, logically. But logic and emotion are speaking different languages right now, and his heart is fluent only in loss.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.

She’s sorting through old photos on her laptop when she finds the folder labeled “Us.” Five years of documentation, from awkward early selfies to professional couple photos, chronicling their evolution from strangers to lovers to strangers again.

There’s the picture from their first vacation together, a weekend trip to Busan where they’d argued about directions and laughed until they cried and fallen asleep on the beach. Mingyu’s hair was shorter then, and he looked younger, less serious. She was tanner, more carefree, wearing his oversized hoodie and grinning at the camera like she’d discovered the secret to happiness.

A photo from her graduation, Mingyu beaming with pride as she holds her diploma. He’d been more excited about her achievement than she was, taking pictures from every angle and insisting on celebrating with an expensive dinner they couldn’t really afford. “My girlfriend, the PhD,” he’d kept saying, like her success was his own.

Their first New Year’s Eve together, both of them slightly drunk and completely besotted, kissing at midnight while fireworks exploded over the Han River. They’d made resolutions they’d forgotten by February, promised each other forever in the reckless way that only new love allows.

Halloween photos where they’d dressed as couples costumes that seemed hilarious at the time but look ridiculous now. Christmas mornings in their pajamas, exchanging gifts and drinking hot chocolate. Birthday celebrations, anniversary dinners, lazy Sunday afternoons where they’d documented their contentment without realizing how precious it was.

And then, somewhere around year four, the photos change. Their smiles become more performative, their poses more staged. They’re still beautiful together, still look like a couple that should work, but something essential is missing. The light in their eyes, the natural gravitation toward each other—it’s fading, imperceptible to everyone else but obvious now with the cruel clarity of hindsight.

The last photo in the folder is from their final anniversary dinner. They’d gone to the restaurant where he’d proposed, trying to recapture something that was already gone. They look elegant and mature, but distant, like actors playing roles they no longer believed in.

She closes the laptop and pushes it away, suddenly exhausted. How do you delete five years of memories? How do you decide which moments to keep and which ones to let go? Every photo tells a story of people who loved each other completely, who built a life together with such care and intention, who believed they were writing a love story for the ages.

Instead, they’d written a tragedy.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Mingyu’s phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number, and his heart stops when he realizes it’s her. She’s changed her number, probably trying to start fresh, but she’s texting him from it.

I found our memory box. I think you should have some of these things.

He stares at the message for ten minutes, typing and deleting responses. What do you say to the person who used to be your whole world? How do you respond to an olive branch when you’re not sure you’re ready for contact?

Finally, he types: Keep them. They’re yours.

Her response comes quickly: They’re ours.

Were ours. Past tense.

The dots appear and disappear several times, like she’s writing and rewriting her response. When it finally comes, it’s simple: Can we meet? Just to talk?

Every rational part of his brain screams no. Seeing her will only reopen wounds that are barely beginning to scab over. But his heart, traitorous and hopeful, is already saying yes.

When?

Tomorrow? The café on Hongik Street?

The café where they’d had their first date. Of course. Even in ending, they’re drawn to their beginnings.

Okay.

After he sends it, he sits in his empty apartment and wonders if he’s making a mistake. But maybe mistakes are better than the nothing he’s been living with.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.

She arrives early and chooses a table in the back corner, somewhere private where they can fall apart without an audience. Her hands shake as she orders coffee she doesn’t want, and she checks her reflection in her phone screen obsessively, like her appearance matters when her insides are completely destroyed.

When Mingyu walks in, her breath catches. He looks different—thinner, more tired, like he’s been carrying the same weight she has. His hair is longer than she’s ever seen it, and he’s wearing the black jacket she’d bought him for his birthday last year. The one that made his shoulders look impossibly broad and his eyes impossibly warm.

He spots her and hesitates for just a moment before walking over. The familiarity of his gait, the way he moves through space with unconscious grace, hits her like a physical blow. This is the person who used to crawl into bed beside her every night, who knew exactly how she liked her coffee and which side of the bed she preferred and how to make her laugh when she was crying.

Now he’s a stranger wearing a familiar face.

“Hi,” he says, settling into the chair across from her.

“Hi.”

They stare at each other across the small table, and the silence is deafening. What do you say to someone who used to be your everything? How do you make small talk with the person who knows your every secret?

“You look good,” she lies, because he looks heartbroken and exhausted and like he’s been running on empty for months.

“You too,” he lies back, even though she knows she looks exactly as destroyed as she feels.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“I wasn’t sure either.”

More silence. She fidgets with her coffee cup, and he drums his fingers against the table—the same nervous habit he’s had since she’s known him. Some things never change, even when everything else has been obliterated.

“I’ve been thinking about us a lot,” she finally says. “About what happened. What went wrong.”

“And?”

“I don’t think anything went wrong. I think we just… grew in different directions.”

Mingyu nods slowly. “We became different people.”

“We became the people we were always going to become. We just couldn’t become them together.”

It’s the most honest thing either of them has said about their breakup, and it hangs in the air between them like a bridge they’re afraid to cross.

“I keep waiting to stop missing you,” she admits. “But it’s been months, and I still reach for you in the morning. I still save funny memes to send to you. I still think about calling you when something good happens.”

“I know. I do the same thing.”

“Do you think it’ll ever stop?”

Mingyu considers this, really considers it, and she loves him for taking her question seriously instead of offering empty platitudes.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s not supposed to stop. Maybe missing someone you loved that much is just… part of loving them.”

The tears she’s been holding back finally spill over, and he automatically reaches across the table before catching himself, hand freezing halfway between them. The aborted gesture hurts more than the tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry we couldn’t make it work. I’m sorry we lost each other. I’m sorry for everything.”

“I’m sorry too. For all of it.”

They sit in their shared sorrow, mourning not just their relationship but their friendship, their partnership, their planned future that will never exist. They’re grieving the children they’ll never have together, the house they’ll never buy, the old age they’ll never share. They’re saying goodbye to a thousand small dreams and the comfortable certainty of forever.

“I should go,” Mingyu says eventually, and she nods even though she wants to beg him to stay.

He stands, then hesitates. “For what it’s worth, loving you was the best thing I ever did. Even if I couldn’t do it right in the end.”

And then he’s gone, walking out of her life as quietly as he’d walked into it five years ago, leaving her alone with her coffee and her memories and the weight of everything they’d been together.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.

She doesn’t text him again, and he doesn’t text her. They don’t run into each other around the city, don’t accidentally end up at the same parties or restaurants or coffee shops. It’s like they’ve developed a sixth sense for avoiding each other, moving through Seoul like opposing magnets.

Months pass. She gets a promotion at work, starts dating someone new—a kind man who makes her laugh and doesn’t try to replace what she had with Mingyu, just offers something different. Mingyu, she hears through mutual friends, is doing well too. Focusing on his career, traveling more, seeing someone casually though nothing serious.

They’re both moving forward, building new lives on the foundation of who they became during their five years together. The love they shared didn’t disappear; it transformed them, taught them how to love and be loved, showed them what they wanted and needed in a partner. In some ways, their breakup was the final gift they gave each other—the freedom to find happiness in new places.

But sometimes, late at night when the world is quiet and she’s alone with her thoughts, she still reaches for her phone. Still finds his contact, still stares at that photo from the beach where he’s laughing at something she said off-camera. Still wonders if he thinks about her too, if he misses what they had, if he ever regrets letting go.

She never calls. Never texts. Never disrupts the careful distance they’ve constructed between their old life and their new ones.

But she keeps his number. Keeps the photos. Keeps the memory box with all its treasures from a love that was real and deep and ultimately finite.

Because some loves aren’t meant to last forever. Some loves are meant to teach you how to love better the next time. Some loves are meant to break your heart so completely that when you put it back together, you’re stronger, wiser, more capable of recognizing real happiness when it finds you.

Five years of loving Kim Mingyu taught her all of these things.

And maybe, in the end, that’s enough.

[hipsdofangirl]

happy 100 followers!! could i please request an idol au, comedy meet-cute with seungcheol?🥹

idol! seungcheol x gn! reader

title: one shot

genre: comedy, meet-cute, scoups down bad for someone he just met, fluff, strangers (to lovers),,,not proofread**

song inspo: glass moon dance - the vanished people

wc: 1.7k

thank you so much for the support!! i hope this tickles your fancy 🫶🫶

part of my 100 followers event!

when you arrived in seoul, you wanted to try everything: the restaurants, the day and nightlife, cutesy clothes that sometimes fit a bit too snug, the atmosphere, and other things that became indecipherable in your notebook from high school.

it’s been about two days into your week-long trip with your best friend. the weather had been a bit rainy, interrupting your plans to take the cliche-instagram-worthy photos to post, flexing on people who thought you could never make it that far. a sunny day in the fall seemed like the perfect opportunity to accomplish that goal.

except, it seemed like everything and everyone was against you both that day. at some parts it got too windy, causing you to ingest your own hair; or some people walked in front of the camera at the perfect moment (if you weren’t the victim you would have applauded their skills).

of course, when you were taking those aesthetic photos of your friend, they came out perfect. you were wondering at some point if she was lowkey sabotaging you or if you should sign her up for some classes.

the sunny moderately warm day lasted as it should have—till nighttime.

in the park, the green leaves rub against each other and the glittering wind, leaving your ears to enjoy the sound filling the silence. you sit on the bench alongside the sidewalk in the park, facing the river in front of you. the lights illuminate your form as you adjust your head under your scarf even further.

you watch the waves rumble and tag one another before your gaze is caught up to your friend, becoming one up close with the river.

you sigh, tapping your foot impatiently. you click your tongue and pull out your phone from your coat pocket.

‘why do their candids always look great?’

you snap a photo of them. you slide out of the camera app and open up photos, admiring your work with your tongue poking out of your lips.

you glance up to look at their form now but notice something a bit further down the path approaching your spot.

‘screw it. i don’t live here anyways.’

as they got closer, you quietly adjusted your position to sit forward, praying your friend doesn’t call you out.

you could hear their heavy footsteps and out of the corner of your eyes, you notice the form is of a man.

‘this can go one or two ways.’

you couldn’t help but swipe through your photos anstily, grimacing at how your friend did you dirty.

‘what could go wrong?’

abruptly, you stand up and lightly march over to the strolling man with fervor.

you don’t look at his face nor do you look to see if your friend is nearby to possibly watch you get kidnapped.

instead, you plant yourself in front of him, causing him to stop. looking down at your shoes, you only hold out your phone with both hands.

you go to speak but your throat gets clogged—goddamn cold weather. slowly, you peer up at the man to gauge his reaction: one of confusion and bit of fear. you immediately retract your eyes.

you try to cough out the words, but your overthinking mind doesn’t let it go out, afraid of spitting in his face.

your hands shake from not breathing in properly, you can only imagine how red your face is.

you attempt to clear your throat. “photo?” you don’t meet his gaze.

the man makes a confused noise of understanding, slowly taking your phone into his hands, lingering his fingers to radiate warmth to you.

he steps back and you cough freely from relief.

you start instructing, “could you get one—“ you point to yourself and the river, “—with the river in the background, please?”

the man mutters as a reply, “of course.”

you pat your pants and adjust your hair the way you want before posing towards the man. to see him taking a selfie with the river in the back.

you watch him for a second, posting his cheekbones to pop out a dimple as he smushes a peace sign in his other cheek.

your pose deflates like a car-dealership balloon. “excuse me?”

the man—who you now recognize is a cutie—glances at you then flinches before pouring his whole attention over at you. your face must have explained it all.

you cough again, not from the cold air, “as much as i appreciate the selfie, i was hoping you could take one of me?”

his eyes widen as his mouth parts. it’s comical how his arms slowly gather to his chest, beginning to cradle your phone in embarrassment.

he nods his head sheepishly and couldn’t help but slip out a smile. watching him take light of the situation, makes you chuckle, letting out an accidental snort.

his smile widens. you immediately cover your smiling lips and curl into yourself from you own embarrassment.

“sorry—sorry!” the man says, chuckling at the end. your laughter dies down as you apply pressure to your stomach, trying to soothe the pain from laughing. you slowly arch your back upwards to face him head on.

he hands you back your phone and you don’t notice it’s turned off—rather you are more interested in the man in front of you. you pocket the phone in your jacket side, your fingers smoothing over the surface to ground yourself.

you cough again into your fist before raising an eyebrow at him. “if you don’t mind me asking, what was that about.”

his eyes squint past his smile as his cheeks softly glow. “ahh—this is so embarrassing.” his hands reach from his sides to aggressively wipe off the metaphoric shame.

you cross your arms, slowly taking a playful step closer to him. “cmon it can’t be that bad? if it’s a habit then…” you trail off, not desiring to look into this guy’s possible narcissistic tendencies.

he peers at you through his fingers. “you…don’t know who i am?” he questions quietly.

your brows furrow as you study the man: who seemed to have recovered, but now is a bit tense, as if one sound will send him running.

you uncross your arms and opt to set your palms free to feel the cool air. “i’m sorry, i don’t know you—wait this isn’t a pick-up line, is it?”

his eyes widen as his cheeks prominently color a darker shade. he detaches his hands and waves them.

“no! well, not at first,” he mutters quietly, “but it’s been a long day, and i was hoping for some alone time.” his hands awkwardly pat the sides of his baggy pants as he shuffles toward you.

you pout at his words. finally putting two and two together, you realized who he is.

you close in the distance. “you’re a famous person right?”

the man smirks before cocks it into a soft smile; his hand reaches to rip off the beanie before running his other hands between strands of his hair.

“with glorious hair like that you definitely are,” you scoff with jealousy.

he giggles at your remark.

you blink and intertwine your own hands. “i don’t want an autograph like that—i mean technically i already got your picture but i really don’t want to disturb you any longer.”

he slides the beanie back over as you ramble, but as soon as you finish, his lip juts out. “no! it’s okay! in fact,” he trails off, looking around your surroundings, “i’d say i owe you something.”

your hands tighten. “owe me what? if you’re talking about me letting your possible crazy fans know where you are i’m just being a decent human being—“

he clasps your hands with his own, pouring his heat to share.

his smile grew. “not for that—though i really do appreciate it—but the fact i dirtied your shoes.”

you stutter, “they are shoes, i could always—“

“ahhh—it’s a bit cold out but there’s this cafe i heard about that—“ he begins to ramble, hoping to throw you off track.

you stop him. “woah! i don’t even know your name—wait better to call you something else to keep up this mysterious handsome rich famous person facade.”

he digs his shoe into the pathway, attempting to discreetly kick back the dirt he initially threw onto you so he could talk to you more.

he looks up to the sky, acting like he is pondering something. “mysterious handsome rich famous person rolls off the tongue.” he smirks.

you interrupt his dream. “i am not calling you that,” you scoff in disbelief.

his hold on your hands tighten as if to bring you back together. “i know i know!” he suddenly makes eye contact with you, the air becoming solemn. “but it would probably be in both of our best interest to not know each other’s names.” he takes one hand to push a strand of hair away from your face. “i would hate for you to get in trouble.”

you hum. “as i do for you.”

he hums as his tongue swipes across his lips, loosening eye contact. “one drink at the cafe—let me indulge for being mysterious tonight. plus, i’ll get another good candid shot of you that you’ll never regret.”

you chuckle. “tempting but my friend—“ right as you were about to finish your statement, your phone buzzed. you quickly unlatch one hand absentmindedly to look: a message from that friend themself saying to have a nice date.

you turn off your phone and put it back into its previous spot. “my new friend here,” you swivel to stand side-by-side and bump him with your hip, “sounds like it’s a perfect night to get some shots.”

your new yet short-timed friend laughs. “more than one kind of shot?”

he readjusts your grip on your remaining interlocked fingers as the other hand pulls his mask up from his chin.

you follow into his walking pace with a hearty ‘no way’! enjoying the sincere yet secretive moment to only be witnessed by you both.

a/n: i guess im obsessed with candid shots cause first that seokmin fic and now this—i love them i got to admit. also yes this is based off that one story with jeonghan and another member that i cannot recall at this time

if you made it this far, have a good day/night!

ALSO these transparent headers or physical images? trying something out for this event

origin of header

tags: @jcxbliss

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [13]

Impulse is a little back in time, simply to retrieve a thing from the most haunted city in america.

the instructions were clear, in. grab thing. out. no funny business, no anything else.

why the fuck did it had to be impulse then?! that’s never gonna- ah, whatever…

So Bart does not just do only that. He remembers to keep moving fast so he’s not seen, but well, he spotted these two white suited goofballs who looked upset with their little box contraption and somehow were missing the little unplugged wire and Bart figured, what could the harm be?

so he might have plugged the little wire in while he was there, sue him, the guys looked surprised but pleased that their little thingy was suddenly working. good job Impulse right?

he didn’t forget about it but he might have shoved it in the back trunk of his head while he went on to do his actual job which is essentially forgetting for a guy with eidetic memory.

So yeah, imagine his surprise when he gets back to where he came from and finds himself on a doomed, desolate earth with green skies and nothing but scorched rock and ruins for miles.

What he’s seeing is an earth in the aftermath of a war against the infinite realms.

So now he has to go back to the past and fix his reckless mistake. Would it be wise to maybe see if he can find a single living soul with some info on what happened to make this ordeal a little easier? maybe, but that might involve him having to explain himself which will most likely be followed by a subsequent well deserved lecture and Bart is hoping to fix this without all that because he clearly fucked up. like, it’s very obvious. and he’s feeling very bad about it, honest.

back in the past again though, he nearly collapses, he’s seriously overdoing it at this point, afterall he was supposed to be able to recuperate once he got back. 

But he has to push through, he can’t slow down, he has to find those two guys and nab their little machine that’s apparently a doomsday device or something, he doesn’t know when they will use it, or where, so slowing down now is absolutely out of the question.

“woah hey there man, are you alright?”

he’s startled into complete stillness, and then he’s just thinking about how this guy looks like a fusion between Robin and Superboy, he can picture it perfectly in his head, fully animated dragon ball fusion style.

it’s SuperRobin, real name Ton, or maybe Kim.

getting distracted, he was asked a question, better answer.

“yeahI’mfine” he wheezes, very believable stuff.

“no you’re not, do you need a hand? sick Impulse cosplay by the way”

So, yeah, Danny pesters Bart into at least eating and drinking something, he says that if the two guys, who are now identified to Bart as the guys in white also known as the GIW or the Ghost Investigation Ward… and Bart going “oh I know a ghost! she’s really great” and Danny being pleasantly surprised.

but anyway if those guys do anything he will know, cause apparently they are very loud and quite destructive. and that’s honestly no comfort to Bart cause he knows what the future is gonna look like, but also he’s about to pass out and that would be super uncool and also make him totally useless anyway so… eating and drinking first it is.

Danny is a local, which is useful cause Bart only knew the route he needed to take for his previous mission and not really anything else regarding this place. And he tells Bart that he’s screwed with the GIW before so he knows how they operate. it fucking sucks that Bart accidentally aided apparent government bad guys… the others can never find out…

Overall, working with Danny is pretty great. For a civilian the guy is very resourceful. he’s witty, smart, funny, a lot stronger than he looks, honestly maybe the SuperRobin fusion thing he thought about before has some merit… are there any hidden clone labs around? billionaires with zero morals? yes? no? maybe?

Bart simply told Danny that he needs the machine from the white suit guys for future superhero reasons. and he’s fully intending on just handing it over to Robin, hopefully while not having to explain why he has it in the first place, and see if he can figure out how it’s gonna cause the world to end so they can make sure that can never happen.

Danny says that the machine is probably just an anti ghost weapon of some kind. Bart is skeptical, because first of all, why would anyone need anti ghost weapons when magic is already a thing and works on them just fine. Like all the superhero exorcists that Bart knows use some form of magic, well he guess anti ghost weapons would be useful for the bats, but that begs the question why is the government going around trying to shoot ghosts? and why hasn’t Bart heard of this before, cause this sounds like something Robin would enjoy telling him about.

But Bart, with significant help from Danny, manages to… confiscate (steal) the machine from the white suits.

he promises Danny he’ll visit, cause they are friends now, it’s official. And he would love to introduce him to the others as well.

Once back Bart still gets lectured of course, and Tim does reveal that yeah, the box really is just some sort of ghost trapping device, and he’s keeping it.

Bart doesn’t really care, the only thing he cares about is that everything is back to normal and he even got a new friend out of the whole ordeal.

It's then that Robin brings up a new member for Young Justice who will soon be joining them, and Bart is completely confused.

Everyone else is confused at Bart’s confusion, this was already known a week ago? and Bart figures that something did change somewhere somehow anyway, that’s fine.

Kon reminds Bart of the new guy’s callsign, apparently it’s Phantom.

Bart tries to imagine what they would look like, but at the moment he can only picture Danny in a SuperRobin outfit.oh well, hopefully this just means that Bart manages to get two friends out of this whole mess.

[cinnbar-bun]

Smooth Operator- (One Piece Men X Reader)

Scenario: “His eyes are like angels but his heart is cold.”

Featuring: Benn Beckman, Crocodile, Rob Lucci, Shanks, and Smoker (separate)

Rating: NSFW

Notes: Rough sex, GN reader (no specific genitalia described), slight angst but oh well haha, possessive Lucci, reader is a pirate in Smoker’s section.

Word Count: ~1.1k

You can read on my AO3 here!

Work is under the cut!!

Benn Beckman

“Fuck… sweetheart…” he whispers into your ear as he lifts your leg higher up. “Tightenin’ around me so well.”

His hand that is gripping your waist rubs gentle circles with his thumb. He can’t stop how addicted he feels pressing into you, having you clench around him so deliciously, and your lovely, sweet voice crying out his name. It’s a beautiful sight to see whenever he drops by. But you both know he won’t stay long, so you try to savor as much as you can. You, the gentle touches and looks in his eyes that make you believe that this time, maybe, just maybe, he’ll take you with him. Him, the way your body feels around his and the way your face contorts with pleasure at every thrust. He has half a mind to run off and leave everything behind for you. To say screw it and keep himself beside you.

“Beck-! Beck!” You choke out his name, pulling him in closer, and lord, it takes everything in him not to collapse onto you and confess how much he fucking adores you.

“Easy there, darling. I’m right here,” he smoothly replies, for both of your sakes. He feels how close you are and works himself faster. “Just relax and enjoy yourself.”

Crocodile

The smell of alcohol and cigar smoke is heavy in his private room. You always say it won’t happen again, but then those dark eyes of his lock onto yours, and now you’re back at it. In his office, a disheveled mess, bouncing on his thick cock while he grips your waist tightly.

“S-Sir!” You whine, as he taps his cigar on his ashtray and takes another puff. You feel the cold metal of his hook around your back. Despite his attitude, he’s made it a point to never let that golden hook cut you or slice your delicate skin. He just prefers the hook tearing the fabric of your clothes apart.

“Good little thing,” he states, a chuckle rumbling from deep in his chest as he tilts your chin up to him and kisses you roughly. The rings on his hand press into your skin coldly. As he does so, his hook tugs at the remaining bits of fabric and lets the shreds fall to the ground.

“You don’t need them when you’re with me,” he says. A partial lie, to obscure the truth that he wants you to stay longer and desire his help. You moan quietly before he silences you with his lips once more.

Lucci

“I thought I told you to avoid him,” he states, unimpressed with the man who has been getting too comfortable with you. Lucci’s possessiveness towards you has increased for some reason, despite him insisting it was just casual- that he can never love and will never love you. You somehow agreed, and now here he was, covering your mouth with his hand while he fucked you from behind in an attempt to remind you of his prowess. He shoves two fingers inside your mouth, and without any hesitation or instruction, you begin to suck on them.

“Do you need me to punish you for your foolishness? Or did you think I was stupid enough to not find out?” Lucci hisses. You haven’t done anything wrong, he knows this deep down, but god, seeing that man think of trying to be around you sends Lucci’s blood boiling.

He doesn’t love you. He can’t love you. He never will love you. This is just for pleasure, and you’re just his stress relief, a toy he uses for his own sake.

He grips you tighter and tugs at your earlobe with his teeth. “You belong to me. Not him. Not anyone else.”

Shanks

He's never serious. He’s always arriving at your house with that damned smile of his, always easing you up and promising “it’s just a reunion between old friends!” Then he always manages to fold you over any piece of furniture within your house. You wouldn’t be shocked if he had managed to fuck you in every part of your house.

“You’re so….!” You struggle, all while Shanks chuckles and continues to thrust into you. Despite being a bit tipsy and only having one arm, Shanks manages to hit all your sensitive spots- spots he’s become very acquainted with after all these sessions with you.

“Dashing? Handsome?” He begins. You let out a loud moan at particularly rough thrust, which makes him laugh boisterously. “Ah, am I too good for you? No words to describe how amazing I am?”

You want to say he’s awful, that he’s ruining your life with how crazy he makes you, but then he hits that spot again and you crumble.

“Shanks… please…” you beg pathetically, and Shanks nods.

“Anything for my darling~,” the redhead smiles as he leans down to kiss your neck. “Gods, I love you.”

He states it so casually, that you can never tell if he’s being genuine or just messing with you. You don’t know if you can even handle the truth from him anymore.

Smoker

“Think I wouldn’t have noticed, huh?” He growls in your ear. You throw your head back, resting it on his shoulder as he bullies his thick cock into you. You don’t even know what he’s noticed this time, as it’s probably another one of his lame excuses to get you close. Not that you care, as you enjoy this game of cat and mouse with him.

“Wearing all that… sitting in that bar and acting all innocent,” he answers for you. “Think I’m stupid? That I wouldn’t catch you there? You’ve gotten too brazen, pirate.”

“Captain,” you begin, and you feel how he twitches inside you. “You’ve gotten too brazen yourself. How many times has it been now?”

“Don’t ask a question to mine. I’m the one who is asking the questions here,” he cuts you off, continuing to bury himself within you. “I don’t wanna hear shit from that mouth of yours except what I want.”

You smirk at how he’s doing his best to retain his hardass personality, but it’s clear he’s faltering. You taunt him further.

“Yes, sir~.”

At that, Smoker groans and fucks you at an even rougher pace.

“Say that shit again and I’ll turn you in!” He yells, as if he even had the heart to do such a thing to you. For some reason, you were someone he never could capture.

[creampill]

Konig x teacher reader and he helps her build stuff in her classroom! Like she’s writing lesson plans and he’s over here breaking a sweat trying to build cubby’s for kindergartners

Oh my goodness. Personal note, while I do want to teach, I want to be a professor. I could never manage small children when teaching. But through König, anything is possible.

I’d imagine this takes place on an afternoon. A sort of after-school-care situation where your classroom becomes a place for kids to have eyes kept on them before their parents come pick them up. König is a personal friend of yours, and when you’d mentioned wanting to finally get around to building the new playset you’d gotten for your classroom, he’s on it instantly. He has the afternoon free, he can accompany you. Think of it as a casual favour from a friend.

It’s one of those colourful plastic monstrosities, a little slide and steps with a little play sensory board on its side. The slide and the steps are something you can handle, just pop socket A into opening B and screw things in. But the sensory board has a ton of little fiddley pieces that need to be strung and slotted and put in right. Parts that spin and rattle and flip around- tons of fun for the little ones, but a pain to set up given the playset’s lacklustre instructions.

So there you are, sat at your desk, moving between your laptop and your notebook as you fix schedules and lesson plans. And across the room, giant figure hunched over, sits König. On the colourful city-themed rug, surrounded by little plastic tidbits as he gets the playset together.

He’s got that focus in his eyes, thick eyebrows knit together, a little scrunch over the hill of his nose. Entirely in his zone, every victory heralded by an excited ‘ah!’ or failure by a frustrated ‘bah.’ He hadn’t even noticed you staring at him, watching the way he scratched his stubble when he thought, or eyeing that dark hair peeking out from the wrist of his jumper.

You both notice, however, when a chubby little hand grabs for one of the segments on the ground next to him.

On instinct, your mouth opens, Teacher Voice ready to get the kid to let him be-

But it dies.

Because König snickers. “What are you doing, hm?”

The kid, with her big eyes and impressive head of unmanageable curls, looks up fast. She’s about four, and she holds the little segment in her fist like it was her birthright.

“Lellow is my favourite.” She replies. Indeed, the plastic she was thumbing was yellow.

König gives her a little lopsided grin. “Yellow? Your favourite?”

The little girl (Elsie, your mind finally supplies), nods, eyes settling on the other colourful blocks in front of König.

“I like yellow, too,” He murmurs. His voice is soft, the softest you’ve ever really heard it, a lilt to it.

Elsie nods again, shuffling. She kept her hands on the yellow piece.

König looks out over the pieces. Segments of a little rainbow spinner toy, meant to be strung together and then attached to the playset. A segment of which was currently being held hostage by a toddler.

He makes a soft hum in the back of the throat, a ‘hm’ sound of confusion, and Elsie looks up a slightly.

“Yellow. What comes after yellow..?” He mumbles, arranging the segments in front of him in different patterns. He huffs, furrowing his brow dramatically.

“Green.” Elsie supplies eventually, pointing to the green block. “Green after lellow.”

König’s frown breaks into a sunshine smile, “oh, you’re right! Yes. What after that?”

You watch with a warm feeling in your chest as Elsie plops herself down next to König. “Blue.” She nods matter-of-factly. She still has the yellow block in her grasp, but her previously hunched in shoulders have relaxed.

“Mhm, you’re right,” König nods, leaning back on his hands. “You’re good at this.”

Elsie makes a motion that almost looks like well, of course I am, before reaching out and organising the rest of the segments into rainbow order. Including the yellow one, setting it down between the orange and green.

“Thank you.” König says. He grabs the wooden rod that goes between the blocks, “could you put them all on this for me?”

Elsie nods again, grabbing all of the blocks and adding them onto the rod in the order she’d laid them out. She presents it to him with a proud puff or her chest.

König grins, congratulates her, and Elsie finally caves and cracks a giddy smile.

The floodgates are open from there. She goes from nervous fiddling to talking his ears off, acting as his ‘little helper’ as he continues with building the playset. He listens with nods and hums of affirmation, ‘oooh’s and ‘wow’s, and by the time Elsie’s parent comes to pick her up, she’s waving him off like she’d known him for years.

And he waves back, eyes crinkled at the corners.

When he looks at you, he huffs. “What?”

You’re grinning like a fool, chest blooming with joy, “you ever considered going into childcare?”

He scoffs, shaking his head and going back to his construction task. “I’m not good with kids.”

You break into laughter so loud he startles- but then König laughs along with you.

💖 I’m open for requests and commissions