#cross over coupe

[en-wheelz-me]

[limelocked]

its fucking wild to go looking for the specific wording on when a hospital would be okay to attack ei when it stops being a hospital zone and becomes a viable military target

only to find out that israel hasnt signed two of three amendments to the geneva conventions that 1 protects civilian victims in "colonial domination", "alien occupation" or "racist regimes" and 2 protects victims of internal armed conflicts

the PLO is 4 for 4 on the conventions and 3 for 3 on the protocols

[andypantsx3]

contents: general bakugou x princess reader; 1.1k, fem reader. lowkey dedicated to the loml @ofmermaidstories even tho there's e2l undertones.

thinking about being a princess forced into a political marriage. your father is ailing and with no sons in his lineage, your country risks dissolution and open war if you do not marry.

already several of the more prominent families are forming factions; those with eligible sons are desperately trying to engineer opportunities for themselves, those without are amassing foot soldiers and weapons.

you cannot stand any of the pompous, greedy, egocentric princelings put forth by the noble families; men who care nothing for the country or its people, men with no thought for policy or justice—men who would gorge themselves on wine and women as the country crumbled at their feet.

even with a husband, there is no guarantee against a coup, not unless your husband is formidable enough to suppress one.

there is only one man you can stomach the thought of assuming the throne, one man with a head for strategy, a sense of duty, and a reputation strong enough to suppress the growing threat of political discord.

you find general bakugou katsuki in his quarters in the small hours of the morning, unable to sleep for your nerves.

"princess," he rasps, opening the door in nothing but his breeches. your face burns as you're confronted with the sight of a man's naked chest, miles of bare skin, golden in the glow of the torch lights.

"general," you say, resolutely raising your eyes to his face. there is no time to dance around the issue. "i need you to marry me."

bakugou's blonde hair is bed-rumpled, his manner sleep-soft, though his gaze is sharp. he watches you for a long moment before answering.

"'s an awful unromantic proposal," he says, an eyebrow raising.

despite his honorability, he's always had a way of grating on your nerves, and he knows it. you can't stop the reflexive scowl that paints your mouth, nor the irritability that seeps into your tone.

"i am being serious," you say, crossing your arms.

bakugou's eyes follow the movement. you are suddenly all too aware that you've marched through the castle halls in nothing but your night rail, too overcome with the thought of what must be done to pay the appropriate attention to your wardrobe.

"what, you lookin' to consummate it now?" he asks, gaze almost burning through the thin cotton of your shift.

your ears go hot. "can you stop being the most obnoxious man on earth for one moment."

bakugou leans an arm against his open door, bicep flexing with the movement. you try valiantly not to notice the way the shadows pool in the divots of his muscle, the way his trousers sit against the plane of his toned stomach.

"if you want me to say yes, you're gonna need to be a little nicer, princess," he says, mouth flicking into an awful little smirk.

"general—bakugou," you hiss. "do you want to watch the country you've spent years defending dissolve into nothing at the hands of these narcissistic, coddled fools?"

"rich words for a princess," bakugou says, his voice nearly a growl in the dim.

you are aware that you are sheltered as a royal. you are aware you are soft and naive. but you are educated, you are strong-willed, and you care. you may not be a son to your father, but you know you know have studied harder than any man on your father's court. you want to do your best for this country.

"do not mock me," you command.

bakugou's scarlet gaze trails over you, hot and liquid in the flickering torchlight.

"no? then what d'you want me to do to you?" he asks.

you fight down the furious flush of humiliation. "i want you," you repeat through gritted teeth, "to marry me."

bakugou's golden eyelashes dip as his gaze slides back over your crossed arms, then lower, all the way down to your bare toes. you feel horribly vulnerable under his scrutiny, even more knowing you are already at his mercy.

"you're serious," he rasps, eyes cutting back to yours.

"unfortunately," you grit out.

that draws another flicker of a smirk out of him. "and y'came running down here at midnight in your little nightdress because you were too scared you'd chicken out, is that it?"

that is absolutely it, and you hate that he knows it.

"will you marry me or not?" you demand, even your nose feeling hot now. "i don't know what my nightdress has to do with the question!"

"your nightdress is gonna have a lot to do with it if i say yes, angel," bakugou says.

you hate him. maybe it's better to just let the country fall to ruin, let some jumped up coalition of families amass power and overwhelm bakugou and his soldiers. with any luck maybe they will stab him.

you'll have to come up with another plan.

"fine," you hiss, turning on your heel. "message received."

but a hot hand closes on your arm before you can take another step, yanking you back to him. you stumble, barely catching yourself before bashing your nose into his chest.

"you know what you're asking for?" bakugou demands, leaning in to look into your face. "you know this wouldn't be easy."

"i know," you say begrudgingly. "but you are the country's best option—my best option. none of the men put forth are acceptable."

"don't like pretty boys, princess?" bakugou asks.

"you're plenty pretty," you bite out before you can think. horror overwhelms you when bakugou's smirk grows wider, a sharp white knife in the dark.

"think i'm pretty huh?" he says, his tone gloating.

"i think that you are awful and maybe i'd rather take my chances with a coup," you growl, trying to pry your arm from his grip.

but bakugou's hold tightens for a moment, and he leans down, close enough that his breath ghosts over the collar of your night rail.

"then if you're sure this is what you want, princess, you can have it," bakugou says. his thumb smoothes over the skin of your arm for just a moment, soft and feather light before he lets you go.

you step out of his reach, skin tingling, face flaming. there's no reason to delay, then. "fine, we're agreed. i'll see you in the morning. we'll announce it then."

you spin on your heel, bakugou's grunt of acceptance following you as turn back down the hall.

"see you in the morning, angel," he drawls, suddenly all agreement.

he may be the general between the two of you, but you know when it's time for a strategic retreat. you ignore his response and flee—your ears burning all the way to your chambers.

[praeluxius]

coup de théâtre - IVE Jang Wonyoung (Ft. An Yujin, Naoi Rei, Kim Gaeul)

Part 2 of folie à deux.

IVE Jang Wonyoung x Male reader smut.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Masterlist word count: 11,849

coup de théâtre - a sudden and surprising event

"You're just not getting it." Wonyoung stresses as her hands settle on Rei's hips. "If we get too close here, it's going to ruin everything."

"So you don't want me right here?" Rei's shoulders slouch and she pouts in confusion.

"Watch. Yujin, you know what you’re doing." Wonyoung signals the other girl over. "Gaeul, ready?"

She gives a confident nod and readies her posture.

"Alright, music, cue.” That is your signal. See, that's the only reason you're here. Wonyoung insisted you help them out during their dance practice. With the speaker at your feet, you slouch against the mirrored back wall. You can see yourself, shorts and tee loosely hung from your body, in the mirror across the room. Between you and it, the four girls are ready to spring to life. They swear they'll make it big, maybe they will, but they're not there yet.

You hit play on your phone. “Five, six, seven, eight,” and three of the girls dance. Wonyoung watches as the girls inevitably get in each other's way. Rei goes to cross between Gaeul and Yujin and the gap is so small that she almost takes a fist to the face. The mistake brings them to a halt.

"See? We need better spacing." Wonyoung demands the point again and stands between the three, explaining how things will have to line up. The four of them flail arms, pointing at their feet, imitating footwork and readjusting as needed.

You'd argue she isn't even the best dancer among them, not that there's much disparity between them. But she's the one who insists they have to be critical or they will never get better. The girls take this school dance club more seriously than anything else in this place. They start from the top again with another countdown and another play from you. It doesn't take long for everyone to get back into the motion. Gaeul turns, Yujin shifts, and Rei steps. This time it all goes buttery smooth.

Hips sway and asses shake. Bodies glimmer with sweat under the studio lights. All their slender figures move with equal parts energy and sensuality. The original choreographer wouldn’t say it, but to say it's seductive wouldn't be wholly incorrect. From the powerful steps to the flowing graceful movements, the whole thing is a pleasure to watch. Every little flourish is alluring and equally mesmerising.

This continues, round and round, over and over and over. Slowly, they iron the kinks. Work out the errors. Find the minor adjustments. All until they're dancing with all the confidence they need to own the stage when the time comes.

The sweat on their bodies soaks in to the tops of their practice outfits. Each movement has their loose strands of hair cling to their faces, necks, shoulders. They're drenched, exhausted, but they keep pushing through the final attempt. The music fades out; they finish. Rei throws herself on the floor. Laying, legs extended and arms resting beside her, she stares at the ceiling for a while with a soft groan.

The other three head toward you (more accurately; their drinks). You lift yourself up onto the bench, taking a seat at the end and handing the bottles to the girls. Wonyoung sits right beside you and leans back against the wall mirror. 

“Good job. That looked great."

"Yeah." Wonyoung barely manages that as her heavy, laboured breath requires most of her focus. She grasps her bottle with trembling fingers.

"That was good," Gaeul confirms as she takes a seat next to Wonyoung.

After handing a bottle to Rei, Yujin stands right in front of you. Drink in one hand and the other resting on her hip, at the waistband of her skin-tight leggings. "What about me? Did I look good? I think I nailed it." Yujin breathes as the words escape her lips. Her heavy lashes lower and gaze at you. A bright smile spread across her pink-tinged, sweat-slicked cheeks.

You reply honestly. "Yeah, you did. Perfect."

Rei lets out a couple of forced coughs to mockingly comment between them; get a room.

Wonyoung snickers at Rei's joke. Her breathing steady and her gaze on Yujin. "Looks like she wants to, don't you, Yujin?"

"You think?" Rei chimes in again.

“I think so," Wonyoung chuckles and swipes a strand of her hair behind her ear. "The changing room is free, but I can't promise I won't walk in."

It's like she insists on making it as awkward as possible. But there's no way she can know about you and Yujin. No. That's impossible. This must just be a coincidence—a light-hearted tease.

"So when's next practice?" Gaeul interrupts, saving you both your blushes. "I can't do any weekend practices, I'm going on a trip."

"Oh right, the fiancé," Wonyoung begins, and you brace yourself, because you know the kinds of things she usually says here. "why him? Isn't he kind of… beneath you?" 

Wonyoung is every bit as blunt and harsh as usual. There's no ambiguity there—no double-meaning or clever innuendo. It's a comment born out of her own distorted view that everyone is beneath her.

Yujin turns round, glaring with her brows raised and silently mouths the words: 'are you serious?'

"I like him," Gaeul answers simply. You'd never met her fiancé but if there's one thing you'd learned about Gaeul in your limited interactions is that she didn't act on whims. If she said yes, it's because she really likes him.

"It's his huge cock, right?" Wonyoung is as brash as ever and Yujin almost chokes on her sip of water. Rei’s head snaps up, and she's staring from her laying position. You open your mouth to speak, but it’s caught in your throat. 

"Maybe," Gaeul cuts through the awkwardness. Everyone pauses. The attention in the room rests on Gaeul, each of them not so subtlely urging her to keep talking. Yujin takes a seat on the ground at your feet, cross-legged, and ready for a story.

Gaeul has one hand scratching at her arm and the other gripping at the bottle in her lap. She hesitates a moment. Maybe she’s busy wondering if she should (or if she dare) say any more. And then she erupts in to a story that pulls no punches. "This one time, me and him got into it pretty heavy and I was deep-throating his—sorry, too graphic?"

There's a collective shake of heads. Even Rei has sat up to listen intently now. Gaeul gives the faintest smile in recognition and she continues.

"So there we were. I'm lying down and deep-throating his cock. I've got him all the way in my throat, and there was still more to go. I just couldn't. As much as I wanted his whole cock in me, it just wouldn't go." Gaeul gives a pout, lamenting her failure. "I tried so hard, I felt like I couldn't do it. Couldn't breathe. I didn't know how, not with that length buried in me. I felt so small, and... I loved it."

Her face is turning a deep shade of vermilion as she relives the memory. Still, her hand squeezes tight around her water bottle and all the others wait for Gaeul to continue. Yujin is leaning forward, hands on her knees, eyes wide and listening closely. Wonyoung looks rather relaxed on her stretch of wall with her head laid against the cool surface. The sweat from her cheeks and brow slowly trickling down. But she's rapt, fixated, awaiting the story.

"The tip hit the back of my throat. I just didn't want it to stop."

As she describes it, her candid description, with no holds barred, the vision her story creates does something to you. Your mind races at the thought that it might have been any woman in Gaeul's position. Yujin. Wonyoung.

Wonyoung.

Her hand is halfway up your thigh, clearly excited at the image Gaeul is painting. You appreciate the gesture, don't misunderstand that, but there's enough sensory overload without having the weight of her fingers pressing into the firm muscle of your thigh. It isn't doing you any favours as the tiny beads of perspiration at Wonyoung's temple burn on her skin and her flush skin glows. There’s no blaming you for the fantasies that form in your mind. Each as naughty as the last.

Yujin.

She's staring out of the corner of her eye, eyes locked with you and a blank expression on her face. And you just wonder, what it would be like to have her mouth wrapped around your cock. It's difficult, staring down the girl you like while the girl you like (and regularly fucking) has a hand on your leg. 

And you just want them both. Right here, right now.

Gaeul continues, "and he's just grabbing at me, palm on my face, gripping my head and he's just fucking my face." You can barely hear her over the beating of your own heart in your eardrum—drumming loudly.

"I must've been choking, and he thought that was hot. He couldn’t stop and I didn’t want him to. He had me pinned, pressing his fingertips into my skin."

Speaking of fingertips, Wonyoung's trace your crotch, blindly roaming and teasing.

"Fuck." Wonyoung's only word—just a whisper from her lips.

Gaeul continues, "I was in heaven." Her eyes are sparkling. They’re glazed over and far-away, lost in the vivid memory. 

"Wow," Rei stares in awe.

Gaeul shuffles around in her seat. First running her hand over her legs, pressed together at the knees, before moving a hand over her waist and pulling at the clingy material of her black yoga pants, that stretch tight across her hips. "So... Um... Yeah I guess you could say I like his huge cock."

Yujin speaks now and her voice cuts straight to your core. "He must love that you're, like, a total submissive slut in bed."

"Sometimes," Gaeul is almost back in the room, no longer enraptured by the memories of being used.

"You must blow him any chance you get," Rei pushes.

"Of course." Gaeul nods. She seems pleased as punch, her mouth spreading into a wide grin.

The words spill from your lips, "what about in public places?" And well, fuck, you meant for it to sound a lot more coy.

"A time or two..." she pauses, puckering her lips as her brows lift together, her head tilts slightly, and her gaze lifts upwards as she wracks her mind. "Well, a few times, if that’s interesting to you."

"Very.” Fuck. “I mean. I'm just curious." Stop talking, idiot.

"Well, the details are a secret for now," she grins toward Wonyoung and Yujin, who share a smile and a look.

"How come I haven't heard about this?" Rei chimes in. "You've got a new story every other week, but not even a whisper of this?"

"Because this is naughty and embarrassing." Gaeul covers her face. She's clearly a confused mixture of turned-on and shy right now. She might be a bit hesitant to share her wilder adventures, but the others aren't at all apprehensive about listening to the dirty details.

"One more," Wonyoung requests. She sits at the edge of her seat with a hand planted on your crotch and the other resting on her knee.

"Another?" Gaeul inquires. "I think it's someone else's turn now."

"Gaeul is right. Yujin, ever done anything naughty in public?" Wonyoung asks, drawing in and passing on the attention.

"Not in public, but..." Yujin stares at you for a moment too long. Clearly, the whole not telling anyone thing doesn’t apply to the girls in this room. It’s all far too obvious. "But I did have some fun recently." She grins like the cat that caught the canary.

"How recently?" Wonyoung cocks her head and a few loose locks fall over her shoulder. "What kind of fun? Who with?"

"Just... some guy. He was a total sub, did everything I told him to." She drags her teeth across the plump swell of her bottom lip.

Some guy? Sometimes it feels like all you will ever be.

"Did what you told him?" Gaeul sounds intrigued. "What did you ask him to do?"

"Don't know," Yujin answers quickly. Too quickly. "Nothing much. Just something special for me." Her teeth are back against her lower lip, chewing on it before continuing. "Thing is, he’s a cute guy, and he was a real natural.”

"Did you cum?" Rei jumps in again, straight to the point.

"More than once." Yujin's face lit up. “I didn't let him fuck me, though. You should have seen the desperate look on his face.”

“Did you even let him cum? Poor guy.” Gaeul sympathises unnecessarily, and unknowingly, with you.

“I did, made him blow a load right on me.”

“Oh fuck, I love that.” Rei chimes in with an approving nod. “On my body makes me feel so hot.”

“I'm a face girl myself.” Gaeul admits before bursting out into embarrassed laughter.

Wonyoung stays noticeably quiet on this one. Of course, you know why. ‘Too messy’, she always told you.

“Yeah, we know all about that,” laughs Rei at Gaeul.

God only knows how you ended up in this situation. Sitting between four women, all gorgeous in their own way, each getting equally aroused by the topic of conversation. The atmosphere in the room, so humid and hot already, has seemed to intensify tenfold in the moments since Gaeul began her sordid tale. Now, with each question and subsequent answer, it was building steadily, the sexual tension increasing in magnitude with each word. The heat of their sweat-soaked bodies permeates the air with the burn of the midday sun.

"You didn’t even get fucked? You're no fun, Yujin. I need detail." Wonyoung is feeding off the stories and expelling the energy through her touch into your cock. You pull your knees up now, to try to hide what Wonyoung is doing to you. "Rei. Save us. Please give us something juicy."

"I uh, well..." The nerves in her face are clear. Rei is more than happy to press details from others, but now she's in the spotlight. "There was this guy I met online. I don't even know his name. He just went by an emoji."

"An emoji?" the other three girls say in unison.

"Yeah. An orange. Anyway, not important. So, we met up." Her hands run along her bare thighs, feeling the sticky heat of her palms and the cool beads of sweat along her smooth legs. "I kinda asked him to... I mean, it wasn't explicitly—" She begins her excuses as though her asking this anonymous man to come meet her was shameful. Her fumbling words get a giggle out of Yujin.

"Calm down, Rei, no-one is judging." Gaeul gives her friend an easy smile. 

"This was just to hook up and no strings. He had a hotel room." Rei rubs at her neck. Blush overcomes her face.

"Love that vibe." Gaeul holds up a lazy thumb of approval. "The no-strings thing."

"So this wasn't a vanilla fucking, I bet. Did things get wild?" Wonyoung asks as she squeezes her grip on your cock in excitement. "Were there handcuffs or leashes involved? What was it, a spanking? Maybe even gotten yourself a strap, Rei?"

"Oh my god," the embarrassment hits Rei even stronger, even more colour blossoming into her skin, "you're unbelievable," she manages. "So, uh. Not that exactly."

"Yeah? Well, do tell," Gaeul smiles politely. "Might pick up some ideas for my fiancé."

"So there were handcuffs," Rei mutters, then shrugs in an almost nonchalant gesture.

"Yes!" Wonyoung whisper-shouts. "Nice. Let me guess, tied up and whipped." Her hand is the most motionless it has been on your clothed cock the entire time. As if it's frozen in anticipation.

"He restrained me. Cuffed me to the bed. Had his way with me," Rei reveals. It's obvious now she was looking anywhere but in your direction. "The guy was packing too. And knew what he was doing. My whole body was shaking, legs like jelly," she continued, eyes glassy, dreamy even, a thin film covering their beauty, staring ahead without focus. Her nails tap idly at her neck, like she is recalling the memory.

"Fuuuck," Wonyoung swears loudly. "That’s good." She can only speak in hushed tones now, the heat having sapped her strength and turned her speech breathy.

Wonyoung rolls her hips back. Just the slightest bit. But enough for you to feel it, a soft brush across the side of your leg. A brief acknowledgement of contact. An assurance, to you, that Wonyoung hadn't forgotten you or the movements of her hands.

"Shut up," Rei blushes at her friend.

"Look, you're squeezing your thighs together now. Just thinking about this mysterious Mr Orange is turning you on. You sure you're not dripping now?"

"Alright Wony, you're making it weird now." Yujin laughs at her, breaking some of the tension. "Sounds like you need to get laid. Still not doing anything with that boyfriend of yours?" The whole question rolls of her tongue while she’s staring at you. You’re caught in some unspoken, twisted game.

"Nope. Never will. You know I don't like him." Wonyoung’s words are ice cold. You never pushed for details on it, but you have picked up on bits and pieces of this before. As best you understand, her family pushed the relationship on her. He's some wealthy heir from another chaebol family. They never loved each other, or even knew each other properly. The relationship was purely political. Strategic.

"I have to go," Gaeul speaks while frantically tapping away on her phone. It's painfully obvious to everyone in the room what’s happening and where she's going. Her fiance is probably already getting the cuffs ready. But she doesn't seem to care to hide it and, to be frank, she cannot be the only person excited about the prospect of sex right now.

"You two girls should probably go too. I'm going to stay and work on my form a little." Wonyoung turns to face you. "And you're going to help me, right?"

"Of course, whatever you need." You respond automatically, feeling almost obligated at this point. Yujin chuckles at you. Probably internally mocking just how easy you really are. Just like how she described you earlier. Total sub.

"Okay, see you." Gaeul stands abruptly. “I need to—”

“We know.” The rest of you say together. She nods her head and then is heading for the door in a rush, collecting her stuff messily under her arm. She drops her hat at the door and stops to pick it up. While bending down, she looks back at the four of you.

“Have fun!” Rei calls out with genuine excitement.

Gaeul nods again and spins, rushing out the door.

Rei moves slower to leave, reluctant, almost. But once Yujin stands and is gathering her things, Rei follows suit. 

“Aren't you supposed to be taking us home?” Yujin looks at you. She already knows how this will play out, but she wants to make her point.

“You could always wait outside for him.” Wonyoung responds for you with a cocky smile. There's no way she is letting you go.

“Why do you need him, anyway?” Rei asks.

“Rei, sweetie, look at her hand.” Yujin turns to her but gestures her hand out towards you—towards your lap. 

“Oh. OH!” You can see in her face that she has so many questions, but the stare from Wonyoung makes her keep her mouth shut.

“Let's go,” Yujin places a hand on Rei's shoulder.

The two girls are walking away from you, and all you can do is watch their asses leave. Leggings hug one, the other in shorts, both thick. Plump asses, firm thighs, wide hips. The stretchy material of their clothing barely constrains them.

"Alright, now let's get down to business." Wonyoung immediately shifts to sit astride your thigh. It's not that she doesn't know that Rei and Yujin will spend their whole journey home talking about you two. It's just that she doesn't care. 

She's straddling you. Her own leg pinning against your hard bulge. Wonyoung rolls herself along you, sending pleasure radiating in ripples throughout your body. Wonyoung smiles mischievously. "We've got half an hour, maybe."

Her hot breath hitting your face. It's hard to be sure how much of it is from her arousal and how much from the intense dancing not ten minutes ago.

"Fuck, that was so hot. The idea of Gaeul getting her pretty mouth fucked." Wonyoung lets out a satisfied sigh as she sinks her hips against your clothed leg. "Did you see her face? I bet she was creaming at just the memory."

Wonyoung's fingers slip under your waistband, then her hand follows them, wrapping around you and pumping. "You liked it." The confirmation is in her hand, but the grin on her face grows, evidently pleased to find your arousal. She licks her lip hungrily and gives a slow pump of her hand. "That's perfect. I really need a cock right now. In my throat."

As she says it, she backs off your lap, stands and steps away. Just a slight separation, but the difference is enormous: the absence of her hot, wet centre creates a vacuum—impossible to ignore.

She's already twisting around on her heels. Then she pulls her tight, tiny shorts down and takes her thong with them, squatting slightly to pass the clothes over her legs, leaving her bare ass in front of your face. She turns back to you, wearing only her skin tight tank top. Her sodden cunt is now right there, bare and as pretty as ever. "Clothes off."

Obedient and efficient, you pull at the bottom of your shirt to lift it over your head. There's no slow tease, just business: you lift your hips and pull off your shorts and underwear together, while kicking off your shoes.

"Get up," is her instruction, the stern bite on her voice only seeming to harden her demeanour. Wonyoung takes your place on the bench, sitting delicately, like an idol would. Cross-legged and her hands atop her knee. Her top still hugging her frame. She raises one hand and angles a single finger towards you, her wrist pointing to the ceiling. She beckons you, parting her plump lips and resting her head against the mirror behind her.

Mouth, Wonyoung signals again and, with that, you're moving towards her.

Wonyoung demands your attention. Everything about her is inviting: the playful half-lidded gaze as her tongue swirls in her mouth and she lets it roll slowly along her lip. Even just the sharp cut of her jaw and long strands that frame it are striking and you'll be the last one to object to giving her what she asks for.

“Wony—”

"Shh." A sharp sound. Her lips purse. Inviting. "come here."

Without a sound, your stiff cock presses toward Wonyoung's silky-smooth face. Though her lips are glistening and begging for you to glide in, they rest unmoving, arrogantly waiting for you to do the work. It is only for a brief moment, but it's infuriatingly unhelpful. The silence breaks though, and she groans in a mix of anticipation and irritation and tilts her face up, angling her hips against the edge of the bench as a soft hiss escaped her lips. "Now."

Your hand tangles into her hair as she wraps her mouth around you—wet, warm and oh-so very inviting. And she wastes no time in pushing forward and dragging your head in deeper, enveloping you, with her tongue sliding on the underside of your length. And she hums gently, the vibrations reaching you and rippling through the depths of your groin. She is eager for your cock, her hands reaching and clawing. A controlling grasp on your hips.

Your hands remain firmly wound into the strands of her hair, gripping as if you are afraid of floating away, all the blood in your system rushing to your centre, dizzying your brain. She began pulling your hips against her, directing the movements and ensuring each pump brought another inch into her mouth. She continues eagerly. Wonyoung's technique was a blend of savouring and indulgence, an incarnation of sheer passion.

Even from beneath you, Wonyoung maintains all power. She guides you without the slightest hint of effort. The flex of her shoulder, the flow of her arm. She pulls you in.

Deeper.

Every pump bringing your hips closer and closer to her face. Every move is for her, from the angle of her head to the arch of her spine and even the hollowing of her cheeks. She owns the power in your body—and she wants it that way too, drawing you ever deeper, encouraging more movement, silently coaxing and promising a glorious reward at the end.

Keep going. Words unspoken but never more clearly conveyed. The flutter of her eyelids and the fire they temporarily conceal. Her throat contracting against the tip of your cock every time she guides you in. The warm comfort of the excess saliva running from her lower lip.

Eyes fixed on her pretty face and innocent gaze through the not-so-innocent act. Everything around you in a haze.

Deeper.

Captivating. Her movements never waiver and her determination is infallible as your mind clouds and you feel that coil in your belly tighten and constrict and burn through. You know this can't last forever. No matter how much you wish it could, but you're lost in the trance and there's nothing that could break you out of it—except maybe Yuj—fuck, not now.

Wonyoung stops, throwing you a look as if she knows. As if she felt the doubt inside you. She parts her lips and draws her head back.

In a move that washes away all those doubts, Wonyoung brings right leg over left and follows through the movement, lifting her legs onto the bench, feet flat and knees in the air. Back flat against the bench. Head suspended from the end of it.

You're on autopilot, following her face down, your soaked cock leading the way. You shift, putting your knees on the hardwood floor.

She puckers her lips, closing her eyes and arching her back. Wonyoung lures you in. Her tongue curls and reels you inside her mouth. Just an inch and then two, then three, then four. Your eyes revel at the sight. The mirror to your side only elevates the experience as you watch your cock disappear in her. Two Wonyoungs laid side by side, taking two cocks.

Wonyoung continues arching as you push on. Further and further and further.

Deeper.

Until... no more.

Until her eyes squeeze shut and the walls of her throat clenches, seizing down on you.

A strangled moan rasps in your throat as you lunge forward, trying desperately, selfishly, to press beyond the possible. You could lose to her right here and now. 

Not now, no, not yet, not without fucking that tight little throat first.

Her throat bulging with the girth of your cock, her muscles desperately attempting to repel the foreign invasion.

Air is at a premium for the petite girl strewn out on the end of your cock. And yet, she settles, relaxes. She feels at home with a throat full of cock. Her long, slender legs remain folded together, yet while you were caught up in the intensity of entering her mouth, Wonyoung found the time to bury a hand between her thighs.

She's fucking her own hand. Rotating her hips and squeezing her thighs.

You draw out of her mouth, only for a second, just to give her the gasp of air she so desperately needs before you fuck into her throat again. Her legs clench as you thrust. Every little bit of pleasure that Wonyoung desires, she gets—as always.

There it is again, the vibrations against your tip as she moans.

Your fists full of hair and now, you pound into her pretty little mouth without pause. Creating the lewdest of sights. Wonyoung on the verge of orgasm, her face filled with you. 

She's only becoming more of a mess as you fuck it, the saliva pouring from her mouth running over her. You keep going for so long that she’s spluttering. She’s choking now between the brief moments you give her, just like Gaeul was in her story. This is what Wonyoung wants, exactly how she wanted it. 

It’s funny that for a girl so intent on you not making a mess of her, this is what she has become. She just has to really want it. Duly noted.

And god, is she fucking loving it. The pleasure washes over her as her body wriggles, and you continue your thrusting. She continues her own. Together, you take her to her peak. And you don't stop. Her hand doesn't stop—pushing past it, forcing herself into a state of bliss.

It's messier still. It's so fucking messy when she cums. Tears streaming. Saliva drooling. Sticky cum enveloping her hand.

And it's good. It's so fucking good when she moans on your cock. It's soft. It's tight. It vibrates, sucks—holds you and stimulates you. Her throat is—if only for a moment—the best sex toy that money can’t buy.

You have to give it to her, she’s playing the role of toy perfectly.

This toy? It plays with you.

She pushes her hand against the base of your cock. No more fucking. No more exploring the depth of her delicate throat. She had just came, after all.

That’s what matters to her.

You—you're on the edge and hanging on for dear life. The knot is twisted so tight that it hurts. And holding you on that edge is Wonyoung, holding you by the cock. An unmoving hand. If you weren't already on your knees, you would fall to them.

"Fuck, that was good." Wonyoung peeks around the cock she holds above her face, a wry smile painting her lips.

You want to reply, but your need to cum is clouding your mind like the most powerful of drugs. Words are just letters floating around your mind. Intoxicated by a woman, as you have been so many times. She's not just any woman.

"What's wrong? Aww, do you want to cum?" She playfully, with no real grip, twists and pulls her hand on your cock. It's not enough.

You let out a huff and nod.

She flashes an evil grin. "How about on my face?"

It's not something she's ever offered before. As much as you thought, so many times, about covering her pretty face in your cum, you never expected her to offer it. Perhaps that alone should serve as a warning. Too good to be true.

But at this point, you don't give a fuck. In her throat, on her face, you just need her to give you a sweet release. You chase it, pushing your hips towards her hands, desperately searching for friction. Blinded by lust, as dumb as a dog.

"First, tell me something." It says a lot about her. How she can be mostly naked, on her back underneath you, freshly fucked throat and all. And somehow she holds all the cards in this situation. "Did you fuck Yujin?"

"No..." It's not strictly a lie. You never put your cock inside her.

"I saw your dirty faces, the way you look at each other. And the way she told that story, about you, with you right there."

"Wonyoung. We didn't fuck. But even if we did, would that be so bad?"

"But she let you cum on her?” Wonyoung laughs aloud and starts playfully stroking your cock again. "You should have fucked her."

The action of her hand is torture, keeping you dangling and off balance. You were so close to the release and now she is holding you over the precipice, with no warning of a fall either way. You're as lost for words as you are for action. But truthfully, is it even a surprise that Wonyoung doesn't care if you do fuck her friend? She is the one cheating on her boyfriend, after all. Your only crime may be not telling her first.

"Now, will you cum on my face already? I know Yujin will never let you do this." And that’s it. The crux of it all. It all makes sense, doesn’t it? The reason this is happening, any of this here in this room, is because she refuses to be outshone. She intends to match act for act with all her friends, except Yujin. Yujin, she wants to beat—and the game is you.

And the irony is, she would never let her boyfriend do any of this.

"Fuck, Wony, you're insane," you grit, nearly delirious. This couldn't get any better. Two identical hot girls, mirrored and now they're getting even more adventurous. And Wonyoung finally ready to give you the satisfaction of blowing a load on her face? You couldn’t care less why it was happening, only that it was.

You fucking into her grip. In some metaphor for the whole relationship, your hips do work while her hand guides, keeping you aimed at her innocent face. She softly closes her eyes, slightly parting her lips. Waiting. She looks so beautiful, relaxed and comfortable, despite knowing what was coming. Despite the saliva still running from her mouth. Despite the post orgasm glow on her face.

"Anytime now." Wonyoung opened one eye, her face still pointing directly upwards. "Don’t make me ask again."

The feeling takes over, starting at the root of your spine, in the base of your gut, and bubbling like a cauldron ready to explode. Her soft hand strokes harder, working you the last few paces as her tongue slips past her pink lips, flicking over them gently.

The sensations erupt. That familiar hot-cold tingle. Those electrifying nerves firing off. You buck wildly, firing off ribbons of cum across Wonyoung's flawless, innocent face. Her lips spread apart in a wide open-mouthed gasp and then shut immediately afterwards.

And, amidst the spurting of cum and the euphoric high, Wonyoung deviously began licking, slurping, sucking. Swiping the fluid off her lips, catching every shot. Her face is the image of debauchery. You're fixated—stretching out the few remaining seconds of orgasm as your cock twitches in her hand and on her face. She's draining you dry with her naughty smirk.

Even when it’s over and done, she maintains that same confident look on her face. Her nose and lips are shiny and dripping with cum. But she never hesitates; her mouth parts and her tongue juts out, curling up to you. Your cock disappears inside, a wet-hot paradise. She's cleaning you. Swirling her tongue and sliding up the length, pulling off the mess. Sucking on the tip to coax the last remnants to pool inside her waiting mouth.

Your body burns. Satisfaction seeping out your limbs and leaving your body weightless, barely holding yourself over her on the wooden bench.

She draws you out. Dripping with her spit. Hanging heavy. Sensitive as her mouth lets go and pulls back, the suction releasing. Then, lips tight, mouth closing, her neck moving as she swallows.

Wonyoung twists and rises, sitting again the bench, in your kneeled position this leaves you eye to eye.

Pain. Stinging.

So much of it on your left cheek.

She just slapped you. She fucking slapped you. You're bigger than her, stronger than her, and yet you feel so small.

"Next time you fool around with another girl, you get my permission first."

Her voice is icy. You shake your head, holding your face. Staring at your reflection in the mirror; you're flush but one cheek is redder than the other. And you can see her too. She’s pulling up part of her top, wiping away most of your cum—the bits that didn’t already fall onto her body or into her hair, anyway. Her face looks like an angel's, but her actions betraying the illusion.

"Now make it up to me." She's looking at you through the reflection. Then, turning and facing you directly, she reaches out to hold you by the jaw, pulling your focus back to her. It’s hard to believe that she’s the one cheating here.

She slaps you again.

You're locked in a cold and silent stare. Tied together by tension. 

You're stunned. Left at her mercy. Wonyoung dips her head forward, going in for a kiss, her heart-shaped lips plant directly on your own and before you know it, you're returning the kiss.

It's rough, and it's messy. She bites at you—hard—while her fingers claw your skin, running along your muscles. All until suddenly she pulls you, guides you. Not physically, but that's certainly what it feels like. Such is your response. You take her place on the bench, sitting while she leans over you.

Wonyoung breaks the kiss and leaves you to watch the scene unfold and admire her perfect form, lithe and slender but not without toned definition, which is exactly why she could pull off outfits that would send men insane, simply based on how she looks underneath.

Her hands splay across her flawless flesh. Deliberately. Slowly.

Never a movement out of place and ensuring her head is held high and regal—a queen's demeanour.

Standing over you. Looking down upon you, no less arrogant than before. It’s her natural position. Her default state. To have power over man.

If she didn't look so angelic, you'd swear she's a devil.

Starting at her shoulders, fingertips slipping over the porcelain skin of her arms until they reach the elbows and hop over to her waist, gripping the hem of her tank top. It doesn't sit as tight as it did before—bunched up, a little twisted, and dashed in cum. It doesn't sit in any fashion for much longer as she pulls it overhead in a single motion. The top lands discarded and forgotten. Her hair, damp and ruffled, now cascades over her petite shoulders in thick strands.

She's bare now. Head to toe. Your eyes dart all over, drinking her beauty like a tall glass of water. Taking in all her stunning details—she is a perfect portrait of a perfect woman, a fantasy even.

This image has been burned into your mind many times over. Yet somehow, each and every time feels new. Awestruck, you admire her petite body, the lean and firm muscles, and just enough of a pair of breasts that gravity calls their name.

"Wony. You're so—"

"I know." She cocks an arrogant smirk.

"I think—"

"I know." She stalks slowly closer. Like a predator over its prey.

"I want to—"

"Oh. I know." She's so damn cute when she giggles. It almost feels inappropriate for what's going down. And then the little devil rears within her again, manifesting in her expression. Darker than it was before.

Her fingers trace her flat stomach, rising and falling in time with her breaths. A cadence to them which tells a story of excitement, no less excited than the first time she teased you in your car. Now here, and over a month later, you still haven't gotten your fill. Even this—maybe especially this—could never be enough. The slightest and subtlest hints of arousal are beautiful on her. She's practically purring when she perches on top of you and pins you back against the mirror by the shoulders.

"Who does your big dick belong to?" She poses the question while delicately lowering herself onto you, staring into your eyes. You hesitate to answer, too stricken by the image of Wonyoung finding a comfortable seat on you.

"You." No matter what your relationship might be or who else was involved, in this moment, like so many before it, you are hers and no other. "Fuck me, Wonyoung, please."

"So very needy." The words roll off her tongue as the heat of her cunt skates up toward your middle. So close against your skin, you can feel her pulse throb against your stomach. Her petite ass pressing down onto your stiff cock. Her hands spread wide and palms flat on your chest, steadying her, giving her strength. Her hips roll, coating you with the wetness between her thighs. Back arched, neck strained, head tilting upwards. Every muscle flexes in her exposed form.

She is unadulterated eroticism, every grind of her hips and caress of her hands. An utter marvel.

"Don't. Move." Every word has her breath caught in her throat.

Been through this so many times before that there's an unspoken understanding. Wonyoung scoots her body over you. Hand reaching for your cock. Delicate fingers. Dainty, as she grips it, guiding, angling it against her. Lower, lower until—she finds the entrance and presses it against herself. A sharp intake of air. Her eyes squeezed closed. She holds there for a second until gravity takes control, hips dropping to impale her onto your length.

Your eyes roll back and so does your mind, back to the view of Wonyoung's body moving during the dance. Does she know she's mirroring those mesmerising hip movements on you? Maybe not. But it doesn't change anything. Not to Wonyoung. She does it so naturally—the consummate performer, who knows what works.

You're looking down. Down. Down to where she's perched on your dick. Admiring her tight cunt, working so hard to take you in. Muscles gripping. Walls clenching. Stretching to fit. Working her body downward.

Her ass never rests on you. This is all her work. Perpetual motion. Constant and consistent. Down and then up and then down and back up. Gradual. Calculated and controlled. Fingers raking at your chest as the motion of her body doubles as the dance, sending that intoxicating swaying motion through her and into you.

Eyes travel up. How her toned abs flex. Trim and petite. It all only serves to highlight just how pretty a figure she cuts. Elegant and alluring. Sinking down, squeezing you into her.

Higher. Her perky little tits in front of your face. Smooth, perfect, porcelain.

Higher. Her sharp collarbone, all the little contours, carved for her as though by the most brilliant artisan.

Higher. Neck curved, shifting from her swallow and gasp.

To her blood-red lips. They part and between them her tongue flicks, hitting her front teeth before she bites down on her lower lip. It stifles a soft moan until it's barely a whisper.

And her eyes. Sheer focus. Not on you. But on the mirror behind you.

On her own reflection.

All the time you spend to admire her, she is doing the same thing. Staring herself up and down. It is selfish and greedy. An egotistical desire. An intimate moment—with the person she truly loves most.

It's narcissism taken to a degree you've never seen before. An addictive kind of worship. For both of you.

"Wony..." holding your eyes up to hers, watching her as she's watching herself. She looks like a goddess. "Does it feel good? I love the feeling of my cock inside you," you say in an attempt to gain her focus. "Fuck. You're perfect."

A soft exhale as her eyes lock onto yours for just a moment, then her lashes flutter closed.

She takes a hand from your chest and plants it over your mouth. Her eyes flicker back to life and she's got them on the mirror again.

She's aggressive now. The girl in the mirror is hitting her hips harder than before onto the cock beneath her. Her crotch hitting against your own. You can't help but steer into the skid, being the silent participant she desires. You're pawing your hands at her cunt now. Figuring out then matching her rhythm and pushing your finger against her clit. It's obscene, hearing her wet cunt smacking against your legs.

Her almost silent focus breaks. She's not stifling her moans anymore.

And fuck you for saying this: but watching her watch herself makes the moment fucking magical.

Her eyebrows knitting as the tides of pleasure crash over her. Her lower lip quivering. The wrinkles on her nose. Her chest fluttering. A struggle to maintain her posture.

She's shaking. From her arms to her knees and through to the tips of her fingers.

She throws herself forward against you.

Head on your shoulder. Her forehead against the glass.

Wonyoung's entire body is convulsing on you. A string of incomprehensible cries echoing against the empty walls. You grab at the flesh of her ass with your hands, clamping her tight, encouraging her to keep pushing back into you and ride out the orgasm. She is shaking violently in your embrace. She is grinding, squeezing, tightening, and quaking all at once.

You run a hand up her moist back, along her spine. Meeting many moistened locks of hair, sticking to her skin. You hold your hand at the top of her back, supporting her limp frame against you.

Her mouth is right by your ear. You listen to the final quiet noises of bliss escaping her. Washing out of her. She lets you know just how good it was, if not from those satisfied groans and the shuddering of her body, then from the deluge of her arousal pooling around your cock and her cunt. She is dripping cum. Hot and sticky, in more than one spot. It was messy. Messy, but it was unbridled fun.

"What the fuck was that?" you whisper. She raises her head off your shoulder and leans back, sitting tall on top of you. Still, your cock is inside, throbbing and ready for its turn. Her hands snake to your jaw and hold it tightly.

"Exactly what I needed."

"And the mirror thing?"

"What can I say? I look pretty when I'm fucking." Wonyoung laughs, soft and breathy, an intimate moment shared only by you two. Now it’s not like you should be surprised by any of it. On a scale of one to ten, Wonyoung is an eleven, though you imagine you asked her. She would give herself a twelve.

The hands leave your jaw, only to be replaced with the pressure of Wonyoung pressing forward again to kiss you. More? Finally.

"You wanna cum again?" she asks, words separated by kisses before moving to your neck.

"Mmmm..." is all the answer you can give, distracted by the feeling of her body shifting against yours.

Wonyoung pulls back from your neck to look at you, burrowing her hand into the hair at the back of your head. She squeezes into a fist, forcing a grimace of pain from you, which brings a grin to her lips.

"Is that a yes?" Her voice a blade edge against your ears.

"Fuck. Yes. Of course."

"That's what I thought." The sly girl, hiding the self-assured vixen underneath her exquisite exterior. "Stand. I want you to fuck me against the mirror."

Still planted to the hilt inside her, you begin to stand.

You're unable to pull out of the tight wet warmth that is Jang Wonyoung. Her grip tight on you—coiling around your cock—effectively pinning you in her. Her body melts against you like candle wax. Warm and lax.

She's weightless as you stand, her slender frame clasped around your body. It's easy to manhandle a girl this small—one of your hands, pressed firmly to her back, can encompass her tiny waist. Your other arm hooks under her ass, holding her suspended. And, for the time being, all of her is draped over and around you.

You press her to the cold mirror, and she shudders, arching her back. Her entire body stretches as if trying to get further from it—leaving a smear of sweat on it. Legs lock around your hips. Folded tight. Locking in the key. Caging you between her thighs. You hold her with a single hand now—curling it under her tiny ass. Fingertips gripping, digging into flesh. The other against the mirror—for balance.

You bend your knees, taking position, gaining posture. The slightest movement it causes inside her brings a gasp. She's clinging tighter to you. Her arms coil around your shoulders, her ankles crossed around the small of your back, her core tightening and squeezing her pelvis forward—grinding herself into you. The squeeze on your cock exhilarates. The pressure is immense—inside and outside. You've never had her this tight.

A rumble rasps through your vocal chords as a growl escapes your mouth. It vibrates against the warmth of her neck and into her small frame.

"Come on, give it to me, don’t hold back" her lips barely move as they whisper against you.

"Is that what you want, Wonyoung? You want me to fuck you as hard as I can against the mirror?" Your hips press firmly against hers. Her tight cunt does its best to embrace you.

"Fuck. Yes."

That was all the cue you needed, drawing back and then slamming yourself deep in her—and back again—forming the thrust into a series of unforgiving blows.

She bounces between your pelvis and the cool glass, rattling as her naked form is hit against the mirror. Small, supple and yielding, taking your full force, each movement amplified and exaggerated in her tiny frame. Her cries—from shock, surprise, pleasure, and delight—they echo. The lewd smacks of flesh hitting, the loud moans and the heat. It all collides right here on the wall of the studio.

It's frantic. It's furious. It's fucking euphoric. You're locked inside a beauty who is getting filled to the absolute brim by your cock. It's a power rush—Wonyoung's eternal play on control and dominance being robbed from her and your ability to just keep pounding into her tight, wet cunt.

"Ah!" Wonyoung winces. You pause for a brief second. Did she really mean stop? But a moment later, her lips curl into a grin, "Yes! Harder! Don't hold back. I need you to wreck my fucking pussy!"

And it begins anew—all the noise. The bouncing, slamming and swearing. And despite the fire and the fury, you can sense a strange calm. Like this is exactly where the two of you are supposed to be. This is exactly where the both of you always needed to be. Right here. In the moment. Because Wonyoung doesn't need a man and she didn't need someone who would fall at her feet and treat her like royalty—she has enough of those. No, all she ever needed was a dick who could fuck her within an inch of her life.

A hard slam sends Wonyoung crashing back to the mirror with a shrill yelp and a wide grin. "Yes! Exactly like that!"

Firm fingers twist into your flesh, her hands clawing, desperately grasping at anything she could find to ground her, all while your brutal assault continues unabated, sending waves of ecstasy cascading through both bodies. Her wails rise and break—crescendos interrupted—but never stopped. Both of you are a complete mess as the furious fuck brings out everything each of you are. The deep animalistic desires. And when you hear her scream, it is a different kind of high.

"Don't stop! Don't you dare fucking stop! Don't fucking sto—mm!" she struggles and gasps for breath, struggling to keep track of her words, the raging bonfire between her legs clouding her mind. "F-fuck..."

"Cumming? Cum." The only words you could manage. You could feel it too, the rising tide. A mountain climber, clinging to the peak, each and every muscle engaged in the fight.

"Yes—" her breath is snatched before another animalistic moan. "Don't stop." She pulls at your hair, claws at your back, a fierce warning. "Don't fucking cum yet."

She holds, gripping onto the ridge, the muscles in her arms, in her legs, her hands tense. The world turns, spinning, and spiralling—the two of you holding tight to one another, both grunting with the strain. She is cumming now, you know it. She spasms against you, against the mirror, and she’s becoming ever more difficult to hold.

Your feet are failing you, threating to give way. In a desperate act, you spin from the wall, drop to your knees, taking Wonyoung with you. There's no stopping you now. Feral. Bestial. Both of your bodies crashing together. She's arching, clawing, and pulling and urging you forward. On the hardwood floors, you fuck like animals. Your legs may have given way, but your hips don't surrender. Don't succumb to the exertion. You're fucking her in to the floor. Her tiny ass pressed against it.

The thundering smack of flesh.

Tumultuous breathing and roaring, unbroken moans.

Arching, bending.

Heating and rising.

You're right on the edge.

She never lets you finish inside.

"Wonyoung, I..."

"Don't fucking dare." Her voice sharp. You hold on to the feeling for dear life. "On me."

It's enough. You accept that it’s never in her. Never before on her, but now twice in a day. It’s enough. She can't possibly mean it...

"I'm—Fuck, I'm..."

"On me. Yes. Cum allover me." She releases you from her grasp and you pull back to your knees. She spreads herself for you. Arms out to her side, palms flat on the hardwood floors, legs pulled apart with her knees resting on your hips. Presenting for you.

Your hand wraps around your shaft, throbbing and hot to touch. You beat your cock for a few quick seconds, with balls tight, with Wonyoung laid prone for you, watching you stroke your cock. 

Watching her. She arches, presses herself upwards, offering her breasts, her stomach... her face.

You don't have any time to think. It is happening.

You unload on her with a sharp grunt, met with a shocked gasp. Coating her petite form. The white stuff gliding across her porcelain skin, decorating the gorgeous girl beneath you. The lean cut of a dancer, now adorned in your cum. You shoot ropes of it across her perky little tits and narrow stomach and her pretty face. A sticky sheen glazes her and drips down. Her tongue flickers, collecting what she can and her mouth hungrily welcomes each droplet.

What's this, you wonder? Is this to be her addiction?

Every motion of her body screams need, sexual need. She wants it all, greedily licking and lapping it up as you drop the final rivulets of cum onto her tummy.

You're captivated as you watch Wonyoung, laying patiently under a sputtering of cum, a thin layer glossing parts her body. She didn't bother to wipe it or scoop it up, instead; it ran down her, following the channels carved out by her subtle contours. A work of art in your eyes—this pretty face, contorted in twisted lust—at the feeling of hot, sticky fluid painting her perfect body.

In all these moments you two have shared, this truly is a first. A messy, debauched cum covered Wonyoung.

"Does it feel good to cover me with your cum?"

You nod.

"Say it. Out loud, I can see it in your eyes. You like seeing your cum on my pretty little face? On my body?"

"I fucking love it, Wony," you mutter and she laughs, a laugh somewhere between playful and impish.

"I feel filthy," Wonyoung confesses with a devilish smirk. "I bet you love to hear that?"

"Yes. Yes," you breathe the words out as you desperately try to catch your breath. Her leg comes up, sliding her toes along the underside of your sensitive cock. Too sensitive.

"Agh," you flinch. "Fuck."

She pushes the tip of your cock against your stomach, rubbing her toes on it and you start to pull away, the friction causing pain.

"Stay." Her tone is a firm demand, in control of the situation—despite her current state. Your body obeys the instruction. Her toes start to roam across your softening cock again. Slick with her fluids. She twists, rubbing the shaft. Pinches, rubbing the head. Pulls, tugging down. The intensity of stimulation is mind numbing. A sick mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Who's the best?" Wonyoung asks. It takes a few seconds to process, a delay, and longer than normal. Your brain fogged. Too much to even formulate words.

"Who's the best, hm? Answer me." Her demand is no louder but feels heavier. Her foot slides down your cock, pushing at the base, pushing at your balls. 

Your words are slow to follow.

"Wonyo—" she presses more, and a shock runs up the base of your spine. "Agh...you. Wonyoung, you." Your words choke up. "You're the best."

"Thought so."

Another moment of silent pause. She puckers her lips, sucking up and swallowing a patch of your cum that found it’s way to her hand. It draws your eyes to her, a silent spectacle. She locks on you, her gaze so steady and so piercing.

"And, who's going to clean this mess up so we don't get caught?"

"Me." The words tumble out, falling off your lips.

"Good. Your bathroom is down the hall. Don't get caught, and don't leave a trace." She recoils her foot and then climbs out of the mess the two of you left on the floor. Her step is awkward. Your load is now starting to harden on her. Her calves slick from her own cum. The gloss of it shining on her skin.

All the time, her face beaming. Satisfied and glowing. Wonyoung is relishing her depraved state. She doesn't wait for you to follow. Not even a look as she collects her clothes. Her shorts with the thong. Her completely ruined tank top. Both shoes. She starts to walk, again with that awkward gait.

After only a couple of steps she looks over her shoulder, back at you, still subdued on the floor. "By the way. That was your best yet. That… was amazing." She smiles softly and heads to the changing room. She disappears. Leaving your mind and your imagination to swirl as you stare at her spot on the floor long after she was gone.

The cum, her sweat, the stickiness—all the marks that prove she was there, the evidence that paints a picture of what went on in this dance studio.

You never see her leave. She must have slipped out between trips to and from the bathroom, and then the janitor's closet, which you eventually found. You thank the stars for Wonyoung's privilege—that meant no staff are needed on the evenings she is here.

What a strange silence it was as you cleaned—nothing but the rain outside. An unsettling contrast between what went on before. Almost tranquil—like that weird place just before waking, before reality has time to assert itself and erase the dream of the night before. 

***

"It's dance practice tonight. I take it you'll be there again, following Wonyoung as usual?" Yujin mocks you playfully while playing with her straw between her delicate fingers. Her glass half-full of milkshake which she lazily stirs and drinks. Drinks loudly with a slurp on the straw.

"Don't you want me there?" you reply after swallowing the last bite of your meal and setting down your cutlery. The cafeteria is as lively as ever. Aside from this particular table, where it's only the two of you. It's not the type of table just anyone can take a seat at—Wonyoung wouldn't allow it.

"Doesn't matter. Wony's the one that invited you."

"She just wants me to—"

"Wants you to fuck her. Yeah, we all know." Yujin lets go of her straw, and it settles into the milkshake. You both lean back in the plastic cafeteria seats. She crosses her arms. "And no, it's not that I'm jealous. Don't even try it."

"I didn't say anything." You show her the palms of your hands. Not guilty is your plea.

"At least if I hang around, I can take you guys home, right? No need for your father to send a car." Always the people pleaser, you are.

"And did that happen last week? No, it didn't." Yujin picks up her drink and takes a slurp from the straw while staring at you. It's hard to tell if she's actually annoyed at you. Her words would say so, but her tones remain calm and soft when she speaks.

Besides, she knows that she could just as easily make the same demands Wonyoung does, and you'd be on your knees for her in a second.

But it's been 8 whole days since that night at Yujin's house. And she's yet to even hint that she wants it to happen again. The more you think about it, the more confused you get.

"Not interrupting am I? I can give you some alone time if you like?" Gaeul places her hand on your shoulder, looking down at you and grinning.

"Not funny Gaeul. And no. Sit." Unusually cold from Yujin, she avoids your eye and gives Gaeul a short-tempered response.

Gaeul walks around behind Yujin, giving you a wide-eyed glare as she goes. As if to say 'what did you do?' It's impossible to answer with words. It's all too much, too tangled.

She takes a seat next to Yujin, placing her iced coffee on the table along with her protein bar. It's typical Gaeul. She's always on the move, living life at an aggressive pace, constantly busy. Even now she's on her phone, scrolling through something. You can't see what from this angle, and you've barely got the chance to catch her eyes and smile at her. But her face lights up, the brightness mirrored as you smile back.

"They're announcing the casts tonight for the graduation performances." Yujin nods as her finger points toward Gaeul's phone.

"We already know how it's going to go down. They’re not going to deny the money and status of a Jang. And we’ll be there to back her up." Gaeul pauses and takes a sip of her drink. "For us anyway. That's all that matters."

Gaeul slips the phone back into her bag and then scoops up the protein bar, starting to unwrap it. Before she takes a bite she asks you, "what about you? Why didn't you ever sign up to anything?"

"Because he's too busy sitting in the back of dance classes staring at our asses," Yujin answers for you.

"Actually, I'm still new here, remember? I just haven't got around to it yet."

"Yeah, because you're too busy staring at our asses," Yujin persists with a coy smile.

"Sure. Let's call it that. So I've been too busy staring at your asses to sign up for any classes."

"Alright, not too loud." Gaeul laughs. How did the conversation always end up going the same way? And how are you always in the middle of it? Thankfully, Gaeul decides to bail you out. "So, bro, any plans to go to the party tomorrow night?"

"You mean the one I didn't get an invitation to?" you're quick to ask back.

"You can be my plus one."

"Boyfriend not in town?" Yujin is quick to ask before you can reply to Gaeul.

"Nope. But I can't let that spoil my fun, plus it means I can bring a friend." Her eyes flutter back across to you. "Unless you've already got a plan for tomorrow night?"

"Sure, why not? Not like I've got much else going on. Are you going to be there, Yujin?"

Yujin swallows the last slurp of her milkshake, the loud straw sucking noise filling the void of the pause. "I'll be there. Actually, I need you tomorrow, before the party."

"Before?"

"Yes. You're going to help me pick a dress." It's not exactly the exciting rendezvous that sprung to mind. You weren't even sure exactly why you had to go. Why Yujin would need your opinion?

You open your mouth to speak but before even a syllable comes out, you spot Wonyoung across the room, heading towards the three of you. Yujin catches on and follows your gaze, not long before Gaeul follows suit, twisting in her chair. For a moment, the three of you are watching Wonyoung stride over the tiled floor. Each footstep seems to make the world grow quieter. People all around seem to part for her. It's not even conscious on their part.

It's hypnotising. It's captivating. It's utterly spellbinding the way she moves.

She has a sense of dignity, class, and poise. There's an elegance to her, and just a hint of sway in her hips. At the same time, Wonyoung's every movement also screams of a fierce strength. An undercurrent of steel. Not intimidating—not intentionally at least. Maybe simply the natural impression of a strong young woman, fearlessly unapologetic.

She reaches the three of you, greeting with a grin. "Did I miss much?"

Gaeul is the first to reply. "Just talking about the party."

"Oh exciting. I've seen the guest list. I can't wait." Wonyoung slides gracefully into the seat by your side, carefully placing her designer bag on the table. No need for her to say any more, Wonyoung and high-brow parties go hand-in-hand.

The room around you is slowly, subtly coming back to life. Sounds from everywhere start, one by one, to creep back in. The conversations return. The low hubbub. The clattering of trays. It's getting loud again.

Wonyoung continues, "and I do need to get out of the house. Father is away again and mother drives me insane."

"He's away again?" Yujin asks, shuffling in her seat and then leaning forward. She brings her palm to her chin and her elbow onto the table.

"New York this time. Something like that. Company business." Wonyoung dismisses. You are well aware that they've never been close. He's worked from the earliest day she can remember up until now—that’s the life of the head of a chaebol. She told you before about how he's rarely home. And even when his body is, his mind is still half-way around the globe. His wife probably suffers for it, too. She raises the kids alone.

And look, you were never one to pry, so the details aren't all there, but Wonyoung seemed confident that her father wasn't exactly faithful. The kind of stories you'd normally imagine just being made up by rich housewives who had too much time on their hands—but she told you he had quite the appetite for the kind of services the elite always seemed to appreciate.

"New York?" Yujin thinks for a moment, living in her own head. "I could do New York. Me and you? A girl’s trip. That sounds..."

"But what about the guy?" Gaeul points at you.

Wonyoung puts her hand on your leg, sliding down and rubbing your knee. "You'll stay here and wait for us, won't you?"

"Well, I was thinking that, you know, you could take him with you?" You never saw this coming. Maybe you should, but it caught you off guard. The three of you in the Big Apple for a week? Sign you the fuck up, and then some.

Not that you'd have a chance in hell of affording such a trip. The reality is often harsher than the dream.

"We could, but I don't think it would be fair on Yujin. Unless we..." It takes the others a moment to figure out exactly what Wonyoung is implying.

"No way, don't bring me into this. You already said that it would be weird. We’re too competitive."

They're speaking in tongues now and Gaeul's face full of confusion likely mirrors your own.

"What are you two talking about?" Gaeul questions, for her sake and yours. But before she get's an answer, she's looking out of the corner of her eye. She freezes for a minute and then turns to face the vice principal. She's headed right for your table and the four of you succumb to silence.

There's not many reasons a staff member would visit a group of students while they're eating at lunch. None of you are late with an assignment nor have you failed any tests. Not even a recent school event gone wrong. It must be something worse.

"Am I interrupting?" The Vice Principal stands over your table, looking over the four of you.

You all shake your head in unison, a lock of hair falling over Yujin's face, which she quickly sweeps back behind her ear.

The vice principal points in your direction, pointing right between your eyes. "You. Principal's office. Now."

The eyes of the girls fall on you. All of them shocked by the statement.

It's unheard of to be dragged into the Principal's office on a random Friday for seemingly no reason.

What's your first reaction? A chill in your stomach. Butterflies in flight, soaring. Fingers gripping tight to the fabric of your pants. Heart racing in your chest. Feeling dizzy. Lightheaded.

"Ummm. Can you tell me what I'm doing wrong?"

"You can ask the principal. Move."

***

"Take a seat." The principal gestures with an open hand at the two chairs across the desk from her. She's staring right at you through the reading glasses hanging on her face. Her perfectly pressed suit makes her look powerful—imposing. 

And this room? This tiny room, with its uncomfortable hard-backed chairs in front of the big imposing mahogany desk? That's as much of a psychological tactic as it is functional. Because you know this; everyone knows this: the people who sit in these chairs are invariably there to get told off.

This room is designed with a sole purpose; to cause you discomfort and make you feel small. Make you regret your actions. Remind you that this isn't a friend's house, and you don't get to act up here.

"Sit." She insists. The tone of voice is harsh, but you're certain there's an undertow of regret there too. You sit, almost falling into the chair in the most awkward and graceless way. It squeaks under the pressure, but thankfully, no sound comes out of your mouth. Not a peep.

"Effective today. You are expelled from the institution."

What the fuck?

"What the fuck?"

"You will be escorted off the premises immediately. Your bags, belongings and text books will all be packed and returned to you at your registered address."

"You can't do this!" Can they? How is this fair? What went wrong?

"You will not be able to return to campus, as the academic board has taken into consideration the severity and inappropriate nature of the events that occurred on the grounds."

The severity and inappropriate nature...

Her words—they hit hard. Suck the air out of the room, leave your lips dry, and a strange emptiness in your belly. Your fingers grip tight to the armrests of the chair, fighting for a grasp on any emotion—any hope or words to grasp onto.

Nothing.

There is nothing you can say. No reason or explanation you could offer. Nothing.

The walls around the both of you stand, large, impenetrable and collapsing on you.

"The evidence produced to myself was conclusive. You and an unknown partner committed obscene acts last week in the school library. That is grounds for expulsion without appeal."

Unknown partner? Of course.

Now what?

coup de théâtre

Next part

[lovebugism]

I positively adore steeb and shy!reader 🥹 can I please request steve comforting shy!reader after her first experience with the upside down? he just vows to take care of her?

ty for requesting!! — steve takes care of you when you won't let anyone touch you after fighting vecna (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, friends in love, cw for mentions of bruises/injuries, 0.9k)

Hawkins Memorial Hospital smells overwhelmingly of bleach and very faintly of copper. You think the last bit might just be you, though. The scent of metallic blood and alternate-dimension muck hasn’t quite left you — even though you’ve scrubbed yourself raw in the shower, three times over.

You sit in Max’s vacant room while she’s out for surgery. Everyone else is either sleeping off the grief or getting themselves checked out. You can’t do either — too plagued by nightmares and too frightened at what the doctors might find if they look at you too close.

Steve finds you in the dim room, lit only by natural sunlight, standing in front of the small square mirror against the wall. You get lost in the splotchy bruises on your face until he knocks gently on the cracked open door. 

“Hey…” he greets, gently to keep from startling you.

You swallow down the fleeting panic. “Oh. Hi.”

“I, uh, I brought you some ice,” he tells you and steps further into the room, waving a plastic bag of chipped ice in his hand. “I saw you flinch when you wrapped up Dustin’s ankle. I figured your shoulder was bothering you…”

He’s visibly shy, but you’re impossibly shier. The deafening quiet and the proximity of your bodies are equally suffocating. You cower beneath the weight of it, wringing your clammy, cut-up hands together. “I’m— I’m fine. Thanks…”

Steve flashes you a wavering smile, lopsided and perfectly pink. He forces a laugh through an aching chest because you haven’t talked about what happened since you got back. He figured it was normal at first — that you were still grappling with the whole fighting monsters thing, but you haven’t let anyone touch you in days. The doctors have been begging to look you over since you got here.

“I just… I wanna help,” he confesses.

A pleading look swims in the deep honey of his eyes. It becomes impossible to turn him down. You’d have an easier time fighting Vecna, you think.

You swallow hard. “It’s… It’s my back,” you shrug, then grimace when the movement makes you ache.

You’d fallen through the decrepit floor of the Creel house and landed hard in the basement. The vines slithering there broke your fall. For the most part, anyway. The damn things would have swallowed you whole if Steve hadn’t been brave enough to jump in after you. 

“Can I see?” he wonders.

You hesitate for a moment. “I haven’t really— looked at it yet,” you murmur with a pained look twisting your features. You turn around when Steve approaches you. You feel his warm fingers along your back, knuckles skimming over your skin as he lifts your shirt with a slow and gentle touch — giving you ample time to stop him if you wanted.

When you don’t, he raises the fabric to the middle of your spine. The entire canvas of your back is darkened with a hardly healing bruise. The sight of it makes him grimace. “Jeez…” he mumbles before he means to.

Your brows pinch. “Is it bad?”

“We’re gonna need a lot more ice,” he answers with a forced laugh.

You giggle at his half-joke. The pretty sound makes him smile.

“You should probably see a doctor—”

“No,” you interject with a firm shake of your head, sterner than he’s ever seen you.

“But it’s— It’s kinda gnarly—”

“I’m fine,” you insist, despite the bruises darkening your skin. You turn back around to face him and avert your gaze at the pitiful look he gives you. You cross your arms over your chest and bite back a wince. “I’m okay, Steve. There’s other people to worry about right now.”

Max, for one. And all the rest of the kids for another. And the rest of the town who lost something in the earthquakes. You got off pretty lucky, all things considered — just a couple of bruises. And a cut or two. And some pretty gnarly nightmares. But that’s it.

Steve’s lip quirks in a sympathetic smile. “Here. C’mon. Sit down.”

He urges you to the made-up hospital bed with a hand hovering over your lower back. Your perch on the side of it, one leg curled beneath you, as Steve slides in behind you. He raises the hem of your shirt and presses the icepack against your shoulder blade, where the bruises seem darkest. His touch is gentle and feather-light, almost comically so. The bag of ice just barely grazes you.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah… Thanks.”

His hand grows heavier when his touch becomes more confident. The stinging of the cold soothes the deep ache in your shoulder.

“No problem,” he says before swallowing down the nerves crawling up his throat. “I’m always here, you know? If you ever need anything.”

You exhale a sharp laugh through your nose. “I feel like you have better things to do than take care of me,” you murmur, wringing your hands into a knot in your lap.

“Well, I don’t.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“What?” he scoffs. “That I’d rather dote on you than do anything else?”

“Yeah,” you laugh and shoot him a playful look over your shoulder. You smile when you find him already grinning at you.

“Well, believe it, alright? ‘Cause you’re stuck with me now.”

“Am I?”

“Yep,” he answers, popping the p.

“We fought monsters together, and now we’re bonded for life?”

“Exactly.”

You flash him another glance, eyes glittering as you bite back a beaming grin. “Sounds miserable,” you tease.

Steve nods with a crooked smile. “Absolutely horrible.” 

[first-edition]

Bent Over

Summary- You may be Bucky’s assistant but your still is pretty wife. When the other board members take a liking to you bucky puts them in their place by showing them exactly who you belong two.

Cw- literally just smut basically, P-in-V, Unprotected, doggystyle, hair pulling, choking kink, Sargent! Authority kink, reader has long hair and wears heels, Afab reader, brief mention of drool, dirt talk, public sex, exhibitionistm kink, dom/sub, Dom!bucky, CEO!bucky, assistant reader, spanking, pet names, brief clit play, bucky fucking you raw over the meeting table with others watch. SLIGHTLY PROOF READ.

A/N this is by far the most….UNHOLY thing I’ve ever written in my 11 years of writing fanfiction and smut so i encourage you to read the content warning above and MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

ENJOY

You've worked for Bucky for hydra company since you were born. You previously worked for your father Alexander Pierce when you turned 14. But when his assistant double crossed him and killed him, that same assistant, James Buchanan Barnes took over the company at 18. At first you hated him having nothing left, not like your father was good. Of course the company should've gone to you..and well it did but at 14 years old it wasn't yours to run. 

You two would bicker and often hand in hand fight regardless of being his assistant. Many year later and many fail assanation attempts on him you married him. You've been James's assistant for 11 years, and you've been married to him for 3. Your bickering had ended in a lust induced fight that led to feeling being expressed at gunpoint then a rough night that left you partially, and deliciously crippled the next morning, which prompted Bucky to make you breakfast in bed and draw you a bath. 

Your work relationship is far different from home. At home he never lets you only want you whether that's wrapping his arms around you for a cuddle or being balls deep in your cunt. 

At work however he's the right amount of distance and so are you. It's become a mutual thing to not let anyone know in the tower that you and the big boss are married. 

You walk into the building holding a tray of coffees and an arm full of files. Your hair up in a ponytail, you wear a black knee high pencil skirt with a fairly loose but classy dark blue blouse, your black stockings paired with the jet black louis vuittons red bottoms bucky bought you last week. 

“I made the coffee run.” you say setting the tray down in the office room. 

Everyone who orders comes scrambling to their order without a thank you as usual. 

“You do a lot around her, don't you miss pierce.” you hear an older man's voice speak and you turn to see one of the board members and the other men on his team behind him. 

“Welcome Mr Cain you are early..i'll have to let mr barnes know.” you say pursing your lips in slight annoyance. 

“Yes well i'm not going to miss a chance at this pretty face now am I?” he says lifting your chin you pull away from him. 

“Excuse Me.” you say before turning back and walking down the hall area. They of course unauthorizedly follow close behind you. You stop at bucky's office doors as the desk girl presses the button allowing the doors to open you step in seeing bucky standing over to the window watching the morning view of the city as he shines up his metal hand, which your father gave him after a coup was sent on him he used bucky as a human shield. 

“Mr barnes. It appears Mr Cain has arrived early.” you says 

“Love the way you say my name sweetheart.” Cain speaks slapping your ass making you jump and wanting you punch the ever living outta him. 

“Hmm.” Bucky hums as he turns to see Mr cain. 

“Are the others here?” he asks you. 

“No sir…they will be arriving at 8. Like you asked.” you say knowing bucky will be pissed off at cain with being early and treating you as such. A small smile forming on your face. 

“You're 15 minutes early Cain. Were you offered coffee or bourbon? " Bucky says. 

“No james-” Cain begins. 

“Good.” Bucky cuts him off. He looks to you and holds out his hands for the files. You walk over to him handing them to your beloved husband. He takes a moment to look through the pages.

“Early Mr Cain but lacking in so many areas, your files aren't in the stock.” he says. 

“I had it transferred digitally.” Cain speaks proudly. Bucky tilts his head to the side slightly and nods a bit before handing the files back to you. You walk to the cabinet and bend down to sort them into the right orders. You hear a crash and a grunt knowing Cain is face down on the table and Bucky is holding him there. 

“Im old school Cain i like the files printed, i also like to be on time, not early, not late…on. Fucking. Time.” bucky huffs cain struggles against the cold black marble desk. 

“Understood?” Bucky asks. 

“Y-yes..sir..” Cain gurgles out. Bucky lets him go and stands up fixing his suit. 

“Good. I'll see you in um….10 minutes. Office room 8. y/n.” bucky says looking at you as you close the files cabinet. 

“Yes sir?” you ask completely unfazed but the situation as Cain picks himself up. 

“Send the maid in to clean up the mess and get room 8 ready for the meeting… also escort Mr Cain out and show twords the room.” he says you nod your heels clicking against the tiled floor as you walk out cain following you. 

—-------

You stand on the side of the door way welcoming the men of the board into the meeting room one by one they all join in and in some way in their own eye fuck you, or get a touch of you in some way. 

They all take their seats and bucky walks in after them. You're about to close the door when he stops you. 

“I'll need you for this one doll.” He says he never calls you his personal nickname at work. 

“S-sir?” you ask 

“Come on love.” he says, taking your hand leading you into the room. He takes a seat at the head of the table as usual and you stand beside him. 

“So I realize that we are gathered here for the section rating. How our router facilities are going and what we are going to do about the one that got taken down. Simply kill the one in charge, the router taken down, and forty the rest." Bucky begins. 

“In the budget.” someone begins. Bucky holds his hand up. 

“The budget is not the problem. The problem is that we have to much money and aren't using it to put more into the structure..but that's not the problem i want to address today no…the harassment and sexualization of my wife is getting out of hand.'' Bucky speaks and stands up pushing his chair back. 

“J-james.” you speak quietly. 

“I don't know what you men think but i think that the only one here who gets to touch her is me…don't you?” bucky speaks undoing his belt, your knees feel of jello and a shiver goes up your spine. 

Bucky pulls you to him and presses his lips to yours deeply he grips a handful of your ass before pushing you back against the table, your back laying against it he pushing up your skirt and rips open the front of your shirt. 

“I think you all need a fuckign lesson about who my assistant is and your gonna sit their like good students and fucking watch.” bucky grunts out as your laced bra is exposed he grips your neck pulling you up to him and gently takes out your ponytail letting your hair fall. 

“What do you think of these dirty old men touching you honey?” he asks you. You bite your lip making a bucky smile knowing what that does to him. 

“Your hands trails down his front to his crotch feeling the bulge already full in his pants straining against the fabric. You pull down the zipper causing him to slip out, you take him in your hand giving his length a few good strokes before he pushes back against the table he moves your panties to the side briefly only to rip them off throwing them in the room. With out warning or prep he enters you roughly you mouth falls open and a moan escapes as he begins to fuck up into you. 

“n-ngh..James.” you gasp out in pleasure. 

“Come on princess, don't hide those pretty sounds from us.” he says a violent blush fills your face but the arousal going on between your legs blurs out any embarrassment. Your husband is fucking you out silly, on the table of the meeting room infront of the entire board and you are loving every second of it. 

“Come on doll you gotta l–let em know who you belong to. You the fuck put tha pretty ring on your finger?” bucky huffs. 

“Y-you did ahh. Fu-fuck.. You did.” you maon out in fragments as he pulls you bra down exposing your tits gripping one and continuing to fuck you his thumb brushing over your hardend bud and the stimulation in you cunt is enough for you cum once. 

“F-fuck james..ah” you grip his hand as your cunt squeezes around his cock. 

“Come on love you cant keep this a secrect you fucking cumming?” he asks, already knowing the answer. 

“Y-y-yes ah..m-more please.” you ask breathlessly. He pulls out of you for a quick moment before turning you on your stomach and taking you from behind. Your nails claw at the table as he pounds into you. 

“Come on honey gotta show em your gorgeous face dont yah.” he pulls you up you back against him his left hand around your neck making your eyes roll back in pleasure and happiness on the dominance he has over you. While his other hand reaches down to your clit rubbing and playing perfectly. 

“Ah! AH” you moan out a broken gasp as your knees merge in over stimulation. 

“Come on… take it like a good girl.” Bucky groans into your ear knowing that the other men can absolutely hear him. 

Your arms reach about your head holding onto bucky as best as you can, your tits bouncing freely, men both looking away and can't take their eyes off the display right in front of them. 

“Come one baby you gonna fucking cum for me again huh?” bucky grunts. 

“Y-yes ah fuck yes.. Please i- i want it so b-bad. Please im your..ah please sargent” you beg. Bucky knowing full well he has you in the palm of his hand now with how cock drunk he's easily gotten you. 

His hold around your neck loosens and he lets you back onto the table pressing his hand onto the small of your back feeling the arch making him groan. 

“Such a good fucking girl for me huh? For everyone here being so fucking obedient.” bucky barks out sending a harsh slap on your ass for you only making  you clench around his cock. Surging pleasure though him. Skin slapping against skin as he fucks you out.

“Fuck.” he huffs. He grips your hair pulling your head back, your drunken expression facing all the men drool dripping as your tongue hangs out. The pleasurable tears stinging the sides of your eyes blurring your vision. 

“I- im gonna c-cum ah- fuck.. Please please ah..” you messily beg. 

“Come on doll cum.” he demands out from you a few more thrusts later he has you cumming for the second time. His thrusts become weaker and sloppy as he curses with a rough few thrusts in you emptying his load into your pussy filling you up. He pushes his hair back as he pulls out of you. Bucky gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before lifting you up against him your fucked you dazed happy expression is glowing for the others in the room. 

“obedience..is taught gentleman respect is earned. Any of you flaccid fucking shit faces touch her again or dare to question my authority with USLESS BOARD MEETINGS… Ill send someone to each and everyone of you and put a bullet or two right between your fucking eyes. Is that Understood?” Bucky speaks. 

“Yes sir.” they all say in broken unison. 

“Get the fuck out.” Bucky says they scramble out gathering their things and falling out the door before it's just the two of you left. You giggle out a tired giggle. 

Bucky tucks himself back into his pants, setting you down gently and brings his chair over. 

“Come here doll. You alright?” he asks you nod looking at him with lust filled eyes. 

A smile fills his face as his thumb brushes against your cheek. He sits you down in his chair. 

He takes off his jacket, placing it around you. “Come on honey imma take you home i don't think you can work today or tomorrow.” he smiles before kissing your lips. 

“W-we should do this again then yeah?” you ask as he picks you up bridal style. 

“Id be happy to fuck you infront of the presedent next week.” he chuckles. Making you laugh.

—-my requests are open—-

[paintingwhiteceilings]

❃S/O being drunk/tipsy around Seventeen❃

A/N: So I may have gotten massively drunk last weekend as the region I live in celebrates a specific type of carnival that goes on for five days straight. I might have, maybe, drank a little bit too much during the music festival day and as I was drunkenly stumbling around, I wondered what it would be like to get drunk around svt.

Also, am I the only one who has a K-pop idols I want to get drunk with bias line? Currently, my list consists of Lee Know, Xiumin, Jin and San (to name a few). Just wondering whether that is a normal thing to have or whether I should be concerned about my sanity.

Scoups/Seungcheol

❀ Chances are that if you are drunk around him, so is he. Coups loves a good party on the occasion and isn't a stranger to clubbing. However, where he can hold his liquor and knows his limits, you may have forgotten about yours. Part of him adores your clinginess and finds you adorable; thus, he lets you be your embarrassingly drunk self, laughing at your shameless and less-than-stellar dance moves. As long as you are in the safe, not-too-drunk zone, he will let you have fun and try to match your drinking pace.

❀ However, the moment he notices that you are crossing the line into way too drunk territory, the responsible part of him will kick in, and he will chase you around with water. He will get very serious, going all alpha leader on you and doing whatever it takes for you to take a sip of water.  

❀ No amount of cuteness or begging will convince him to stop his getting you sober plight; you can flirt all you want with him, but once he is concerned for your well-being, it is difficult to persuade him to let you keep on drinking. He is definitely not above cutting the night short either, taking you home instead. If you do as much as refuse, he will throw you over his shoulder and walk out like you weigh nothing. 

Jeonghan

❀ To the poor soul who decided to get drunk around this man, I hope that he will never feel the urge to show those embarrassing videos that he took of you to those around you. Although he will, of course, keep his eye on you to prevent you from getting progressively drunker, he is enjoying you being drunk way too much. He will have his camera out the entire time and instigate you to do something embarrassing that sober-you would very much regret.  

❀ He has an entire folder dedicated to your drunken mishaps, whether it is a five-minute video of you slurring your words as you argue why cows are grossly underappreciated when it comes to favourite animals or you crying as you hug a tree, sobbing that they do not receive enough love. Jeonghan cherishes every single photo and video he took of you being drunk, frequently rewatching them to cheer himself up.

❀ Honestly, it never fails to make you regret drinking around this man because he has no problem using it as blackmail against you. Whenever you try to argue with him during game nights, he will subtly reference one of your entertaining escapades, teasing you that anyone who repeatedly drunkenly asked whether turning a phone on aeroplane mode would give it the ability to fly is in no position to argue with him.  

Joshua

❀ He is so unbelievably gentle with you. The moment he senses that you are getting ab bit too tipsy or borderline drunk, he will make sure to switch to water for himself instead. Although he enjoys the occasional drink, he wants to make sure that he is able to take care of you, letting you freely drink whilst he makes sure you do so safely.

❀ He is genuinely the sweetest, listening to all your drunken ramblings with a fond smile on his face. Whenever you are not paying attention to him, he will secretly switch out your alcoholic beverage for water, cheekily gaslighting you into believing that it is still the same drink by taking a sip himself and pretending that you are imagining things when exclaim it no longer tastes like vodka.

❀ When you guys get home, he will go into full caregiver mode, helping you remove your makeup, making sure that you didn’t forget to plug in your phone for the night and laying out your comfiest pyjamas for you to slip into after a brief shower. He will tuck you into bed after making sure that you drank enough water for the night, preparing a glass of water and some medication for you to take in the morning when the hangover kicks in, before turning in himself.

Jun

❀ The moment you enter your shared apartment drunk, Jun feels torn between laughing at your ridiculous actions spurred by your drunkenness and helping you sober up. Seeing you put your hand in the fish tank as you try to pet your now traumatised goldfish because you felt bad for never petting it before is hilarious to him. He is curious about what else you might do, following you around as you try to do more ridiculous things. He is thoroughly invested in seeing where your drunken brain is taking you next and what else you will get up to if he lets you roam around.

❀ Jun will entertain your drunken childlike curiosity, using it to finally be able to do the totally safe experiments you usually tell him off for. The two of you will engage in a plethora of dubious food experiments, mixing different drinks to find out whether they will taste any good together and go to the supermarket to buy a dozen different ice cream flavours in order to rank them all. Where usually you would scold him for trying to see whether a bath can really overflow, drunken-you would join him in watching the water level rise slowly.

❀ However, he simultaneously will be very caring, preparing a hearty meal to combat your drunkenness. He might not be the best chef in Seventeen, but he can cook up a couple of meals that help with absorbing the alcohol, preparing one of them to help you sober up a bit. He will ensure that you eat plenty of it and drink enough water before you go to bed.

Hoshi/Soonyoung

❀ In no universe is this man not drunker than you are when the two of you go out drinking. Hoshi’s tolerance is so incredibly low that he could get drunk on the smell of alcohol alone. The other members have to babysit the both of you, not even for your own safety but for those around you. He would be the type of person who, when you buy your shots, forgets that they are not his and, in his drunken stupor, take them when you turn around to pay. You are too drunk to notice either, not that it matters much, as you finish most of his drinks on accident, too.

❀ The dance floor is a danger zone when you two step onto it. Neither of you cares much about dancing decently; instead, the two of you have a competition going on who can come up with the most creative, shameless dance moves. The dance battle only ends when one of you accidentally knocks over a slow-dancing couple during an emotional ballad.

❀ The other members will ultimately have to step in, guiding you back home before either of you does something illegal. It is easier said than done; the two of you are so incredibly drunk that you decide to pose and take pictures with random statues you spot on your way home. Once home, they try to get you both to drink water but miserably fail as Hoshi completely breaks down, professing his undying love for you between sobs. The night ends with the two of you in each other’s arms, crying about how much you love each other.

Wonwoo

❀ Considering he doesn’t really drink himself, he will make sure you are not exceeding your drinking limits, babysitting you the entire time. However, where he usually makes sure to stop you from getting drunk the moment he notices you are getting tipsy, he hadn’t anticipated that the dinner with the members would turn into an out-of-control drinking party. When they suggested doing some drinking games whilst waiting for the food, he had assumed they would have gone easy on you; instead, you had lost so many of the drinking games that you were borderline drunk by the time that the food reached to your table.

❀ Throughout the dinner, Wonwoo tries to get you to drink as much water as he can. Your glass doesn’t stay empty for long as, rather than eating himself, he is way too focused on making sure that it is constantly filled with water. You have barely swallowed your food when he puts another piece of meat on your plate, hoping that the grease will help you sober up somewhat.

❀ When the members insist on playing more drinking games during and after the dinner, he initially refuses on your behalf. If you insist on continuing, he will awe the members by taking every punishment shot going your way for you. Unfortunately for him, the members have finally figured out a way to get Wonwoo to join their drinking festivities, using you as bait to get the usually introverted member to drink.

Woozi/Jihoon

❀ As another member who rarely, if ever, drinks, he always tells you to be careful when you do. When you get invited out for drinks with the members, he fully trusts them to keep an eye on you for his sake as he is stuck in the studio, having to finish a song. What he is not expecting, however, is for them to call him at 1 AM to come pick you up, as they may have grossly overestimated your alcohol tolerance. He can hear drunk-you brabble about how much you miss him in the background of the phone call as he talks to the members about coming over to take you home.

❀ With a big sigh, he makes his way over to the pub you guys had been drinking at, realizing that it might not have been the smartest to have the members who frequently drink and have built up quite the tolerance take you drinking. He is not necessarily angry at you or the members; instead, he is disappointed in himself for not having been there with you to ensure you would not go past your drinking limits.

❀ He is incredibly gentle with you when he finally arrives at the pub, scooping you up in his arms, ready to take you home. He will hear no apology on your part or the members, reassuring you that it happens and that although he would like for it to be prevented in the future, he understands that getting drunk happens. At home, he will be so soft as he makes sure to give you whatever you need. He will make sure not to leave your side, helping you shower and giving you plenty of cuddles in bed to make you feel better.

DK/Seokmin

❀ Another member who is probably just as drunk as you are, if not more. He would be getting drunk with you, sharing most of his drinks with you to the point where neither of you remembers which drink belongs to whom. He is definitely enabling your drunk behaviour and perhaps even the cause of it because whenever he picks up his shot of soju, he makes sure to give you one, too.

❀ He will rope you into doing something stupid, putting on one of his infamous skits with you as the second lead. You don’t know where he got a wig from, but he is fully engrossed in his role as Sandra, the woman who is about to be eaten by zombies. Where sober-you would be mortified by his behaviour, you are currently too drunk to care, down to join him as one of the vicious zombies. It doesn’t help that a small part of him still feels embarrassed about his actions and keeps taking a swig of the soju bottle left on your now-unoccupied table, making him progressively drunker as the performance continues.

❀ At the very least, your performance will be enjoyed by a considerably large, amused audience who decide to pay for some of your drinks in appreciation, making it a relatively cheap night out. Neither of you will be able to do much the next day as both of you completely forgot to drink water before going to bed, too busy re-enacting the best moments of your play, resulting in a massive hangover. As a result, the two of you spend most of the next day cuddled up in bed; DK claims that your hugs are the best cure for his crushing headache.

Mingyu

❀ Mingyu sometimes forgets that taller people tend to be able to drink more compared to those who are more vertically challenged; thus, he accidentally got you very drunk when he dragged you to go clubbing with him and the members. That being said, he is not feeling too guilty about it because where sober-you would try to limit the PDA in front of the other members, drunk-you completely forget they exist. Mingyu is on cloud nine when you start to touch him more than usual, thinking he has officially gone to heaven as you hug him close and refuse to let go.

❀ He is giggling uncontrollably, as you are all over him, insisting on slow-dancing to every song that comes on, even if it is to the most upbeat techno song. Although he makes sure that you don’t get too drunk, he will not make any attempts to sober you up immediately either, enjoying your attention way too much. He, for sure, will take at least fifty photos and videos where you are kissing his cheek and drunkenly rambling on and on about how much you love him, saving them for a rainy day. You are the cutest person alive to him, and he seriously considers always bringing you along from now on.

❀ Once home, he will make sure that you are fully provided for, cheekily suggesting to shower together as he is incredibly ‘worried’ that you might slip in the shower in your drunken state. Part of Mingyu is slightly sad to see you sober up when he hands you your tenth glass of water in an attempt to prevent a nasty hangover.

The8/Minghao

❀ There is no way in hell that Minghao is not watching you like a hawk when the two of you go drinking, taking away your drinks when he notices that you are getting a bit too out-of-control drunk. You always try to argue with him when he does, whining that you, the adult, know your limits and don’t need him to babysit you. Thus, to prove you wrong and to get you to stop arguing with him whenever he stops you from drinking, he makes a deal with you; you get to drink however much you want, and he won’t interfere with drunk you whatsoever.

❀ This is how you end up drunk out of your mind at one of the members’ birthday parties, challenging Seungkwan to an arm wrestling match after you had tried to beat a drunk and crying Hoshi in a dance battle without much success. You even competed in Scoups’ and Mingyu’s beer pong competition, making you drunker than you already were. Minghao hovers nearby, ready to jump in when necessary, keeping a close eye on your questionable actions. His phone is in his hands as he quietly films you from a distance, ready to present sober-you with the consequences of your drunken decisions.

❀ Nevertheless, he will interfere whenever you are about to do something too embarrassing; sure, he wants you to learn that you do stupid things when wasted, but he does not want you to be relentlessly teased by the other members for your intoxicated mishaps. Minghao will immediately take you back home and sober you up when he thinks that he has let you go on for long enough and that he has collected enough evidence to prove his claims. The next morning, he will lovingly confront you with reality, regardless of whether or not you are nursing a hangover, after which you agree that maybe, sometimes, he might have a point.

Seungkwan

❀ Seungkwan is honestly one of the best people to get drunk around. Sure, he drinks himself, but the moment he notices that he is getting tipsy, he slows down his drinking. He has had to deal with the members being drunk so often that he has developed successful ways of dealing with drunk people, making him well-equipped to deal with you. The moment you sheepishly admit that you are slightly drunk when you two are having dinner with the members, he will do his famous drunk check, rubbing over your forehead, making you giggle uncontrollably, before concluding that, indeed, you are gone.  

❀ The entire evening, he will treat you like a little kid, listening to your drunken ramblings and providing you with sassy and funny remarks in exchange. He loves that you are laughing even more at his jokes than usual, and he will not miss a chance to elicit another fit of laughter out of you by doing something stupid. Seungkwan is not above embarrassing himself as long as it means that you are entertained.

❀ Honestly, I can’t imagine Seungkwan letting you do anything embarrassing. He will make sure that you sober up a little, providing you with water every now and then, and talk you out of whatever stupid plan you were about to execute. The moment he spots you climbing onto the bar, ready to execute your and Hoshi’s well-choreographed but slightly ridiculous dance routine, he will expertly redirect your attention to something else, making you completely forget about what you were about to do. As funny as he knows it would be for you to embarrass yourself, he knows you would be mortified the next day when you find out what you did the previous night and is fully committed to preventing that from happening. He would never let you do anything you would regret sober.

❀ Still, if you refuse to listen to him or you manage to do something stupid when he is momentarily distracted, he would not let you live it down.

Vernon

❀ Similarly to Jun, he is highly amused by your drunken escapades, curious to see what you will do. Where Jun, however, will join you in your antics, Vernon will mostly observe you, laughing his chair-screeching laugh as he does. He is not going to interfere whatsoever and lets you do whatever comes to your drunken mind, highly amused by whatever you are doing. Unless you are doing something illegal or dangerous, he is letting you do whatever your drunken brain convinces you to do.

❀ Getting drunk around Vernon means providing him with an arsenal of slightly embarrassing pictures that will be stored for later use. His phone is in his hand the whole evening, and he will make sure to snap thousands of images of your intoxicated self as you pose for him. You completely forget about him taking the pictures until he starts using them as stickers and memes in your private chat. Most of his reactions to your messages are you pulling a weird face. It wouldn’t have been that bad if he hadn’t started using them in the Seventeen group chat and as his phone’s background.

❀ As Vernon doesn’t strike me as someone who drinks often, he wouldn’t really be much help in sobering you up and making sure you won’t have too bad of a headache in the morning. Instead of making sure you drink enough water and get enough sleep, he convinces you to stay up late to watch a movie with him, entertained by your drunken commentary throughout, most of which he records. Needless to say, when morning arrives, you wake up with a lot of regrets.

Dino/Chan

❀ Dino is the king of being drunk; the amount of stories this dude has where he is wasted and doing something questionable are too many to count. Of course, he will be drunk with you, and of course, you two will create the best, most amusing drunk story ever. He had tried so hard to take the punishment shots for you whenever you lost a drinking game, not wanting you to get too drunk, resulting in both of you being incredibly intoxicated and hyping the other up to do some questionable stuff. The members tried to supervise the both of you, but you managed to escape when they got distracted for merely a second.

❀ In retrospect, your memories are kind of hazy on what had actually happened that night. In flashes, you remember a couple of rich people inviting you guys along, a boat, a garden gnome and something about a museum. Somehow, at the end of the night, you two end up in a fancy hotel, holding a garden gnome under your arm, all expenses paid, with the staff congratulating you on your engagement as you sport a very cheap plastic ring on your ring finger.

❀ In the morning, the two of you are nursing massive hangovers, utterly confused about where you are and how you managed to get there. Dino sees the thirty-plus missed calls from the members, knowing he is in a world of trouble, and someone mysteriously saved under the name Bob the Magician. The ring is so tight around your finger that you barely manage to get it off. Still, neither of you is planning on leaving any time soon, enjoying the luxury hotel the next couple of days as you try to piece together what transpired that night after ensuring the members that you are not dead in a ditch somewhere.

masterlist

[irndad]

TULIP WITH THE GUY EVER

this is for peter!! im feral for this man my god this is long for nothing happening- guys i am SO fucking rusty prompt: an act of affection so blatant everyone notices roommate!peter <;3 flower prompts

It’s hard not to look at her. 

There’s so much to observe, so much to place his attention on- how she smiles, the way she taps the sides of her mugs before she sips her tea. She’s a vision in red lipstick and he’s the kind of person that’s blessed to be in her presence. 

It’s a Friday night, and there’s a sweet sort way that she curls into herself. She’s been his friend for just about a minute longer than he’s been in love with her, and he’d like to think he does a decent job at hiding this fact.

He landed on his hip today, from a height far enough off the ground that it still hurts, pain radiating from every step as he walks home. The commute is actually quite far from his internship at the newspaper, but he likes the area he lives, and the woman whose company he keeps while he lives there. He makes concessions. 

Still, he’d been looking forward to the sight of her since the ache began. Her presence had a way of soothing. 

She’s curled up onto an inherited recliner in their shared apartment, and when he bursts their creaky door open in a fluid motion, he’s greeted with this sight. She’s not alone- some friends from her graduate program on their Ikea couch. 

It’s girls night, and it’s his dutiful role to say a quick quip and head back to his room. Her two best friends are over, legs splayed over each other in an open display of affection that he adores witnessing. He could hear the laughter and yelling from outside the apartment itself. He likes how they make her laugh, how they seem to make her heart lighter when he can tell she’s not able to carry the weight of everything by herself. 

“Peter!” She’s the first to even notice he’s around, and he tries not to let the stubborn firework in his chest keep exploding at the thought of it. At the thought, she sees me. Her voice is warm and kind and weightless, and he drinks in  the sight of her. Their floor lamp illuminates her in warm golden light, a coupe glass with red wine held in delicate fingers. 

“Hey, you,” he replies, an unmistakable warmth he can’t seem to rid himself of in his tone. He tries not to seem disappointed, like he’d not been imagining watching an irrelevant TV show, a little too close together until they’d fallen asleep just that way.

As he’s hanging his withered coat, he asks, “What are you guys up to tonight?”

Her friend explains that they are watching the Spy Kids trilogy in order, and she nods dutifully along. 

“That sounds wonderful,” he can’t help but laugh. “I’ll leave you guys be-“ 

And it’s no surprise, when they send a him a chorus of please join, and you’re welcome to be here! 

She stands up to give him a hug goodnight (because she wants to kill him), and he envelops her before he can stop himself. She smells like a mixture of lavender and rose and sweet red wine, and he’s grateful for his heightened senses for a moment; it doesn’t take long to memorize it all. 

It occurs to him that he won’t see her until morning, and he takes in the sight of her again, eyes raking over her. She really is beautiful- lovely in a way that radiates her smile, follows her in action. His hands rest on the curve of her waist, and something and things being made to fit one another cross his mind, against his better judgement. God, he could spend forever looking at her, longer touching her. 

He only pulls away when he hears a muffled pair of laughs, failed attempts at not interrupting a moment. Which is absurd, because there is no moment. None. 

She beams at him despite the laughter of those she holds dear, and it aches saying goodbye to her. She's just down the hall and it hurts to leave.

He slinks off to his bedroom smelling like her perfume, blushing bright red and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit hopeful. And he thinks he might of heard the faint whisper of two other people, whispering questions he mulls over every day.

"Just roommates, huh?"

[jae-bummer]

Right Here With Me

Request: hi! :) i feel like #19 on your recent prompt list would really fit to seventeen’s hhu, specifically to mingyu or seungcheol.. i adore your writing, thank you for putting in so much effort 💌

Prompt:

19) Taking care of your tipsy bias.

Pairing: Seventeen S.Coups x Reader

Genre: Fluff

.

You jumped as Seungcheol slammed his hand on the table. "Sing with me."

You blinked up at him in surprise. He was shimmying from side to side with the karaoke mic in hand.

"Coups," you sighed, crossing your arms. "We really need to get you guys back home."

"Noooo," he pouted, now his turn to cross his arms. "It's so lonely at home. Here is the opposite of whatever lonely is."

You looked across the table to Vernon who seemed to be thinking over the antonym of "lonely." Turning your eyes to Wonwoo for help instead, he gave a small shrug before taking a long sip of his water. To his benefit, he had been about as many drinks in as the rest of the guys but had chosen to hydrate about an hour ago.

"Come oooon, Y/N," Mingyu cooed, swaying behind Coups with the other microphone. "One more song!"

"One more song!" Coups chanted. "One more song!"

It wasn't long before Vernon and Mingyu had joined the chorus. With their shouting still in the background, Seungcheol stepped toward you and reached out to play with a lock of your hair. His eyes were half lidded and his plush lips pulled up at one side. "Come on, baby."

Closing your eyes, you sighed. "Coups."

Plopping on the bench beside you, he coaxed you into his side, and placed a wet kiss on your temple. "Pretty please? I love you soooo much. Why won't you love me?"

"Why is it that he always feels it pertinent to confess to you when he's drunk?" Wonwoo muttered as he watched with lifted brows.

"I don't know," you hissed, fighting your way out of Seungcheol's arms. "And what does me loving you have to do with you singing another song?"

"Everything," he said with a stubborn nod.

Wonwoo wasn't wrong. This was often Seungcheol's MO. You were best friends, even closer than that even. He was like a limb at this point. If you lost him, you wouldn't know how to function. That being said, the two of you had never explored a romantic relationship. You were mostly afraid of ruining your friendship, and he seemed to only think about it when he was intoxicated.

"He's so going to regret this in the morning," Vernon cackled, falling back into his seat.

"If you loved me, you'd let me sing one more song," Coups whined. "I'll even sing OUR song."

"We have a song?" you muttered. "Since when do we have a song?"

"Since," Coups hiccuped. "I heard it and thought of you."

"That's hardly "our" song then." You couldn't help but chuckle, plus, you were very curious to hear what Coups thought of as "your song."

"Pleaaaase," he begged. Sticking out his bottom lip, he gave you puppy dog eyes.

"Fine," you gasped. "One more song and then I walk you home!"

An award-winning smile took over Seungcheol's face as he sprung up and toward the karaoke machine. Flipping feverishly through his options, he finally seemed to find what he was looking for. Spinning around, he pointed a finger at you.

"This is for you, Y/N," he said in a low voice. You weren't sure if he was trying to be sexy or funny.

"Oh, this is going to be good," Wonwoo chuckled, pivoting himself to get a better look at the front of the room. Vernon already had his phone out and set to record.

You took a deep breath as you heard the intro to the song. Surely this wasn't what you thought this was.

"I've been drinking, I've been drinking," he crooned. "I get filthy when that liquor get into me - I've been thinking, I've been thinking..."

"Holy shit," Vernon hissed in between laughs. "This is the best day of my entire life."

You wished you were a turtle. If you had a shell, you would have something to crawl into and die. What was he doing?

"WE BE ALL NIGHT! LOOOOOOVE! LOOOOOOVE!" Seungcheol and Mingyu screeched at the top of their lungs as they began to grind their hips into the air.

"Well," Wonwoo said with a wince as he stood from the table. "That's enough of that."

Taking the few steps to cross the room, he tapped gingerly on the karaoke tablet. Within seconds, the music turned off, and the boys were left screaming in the open air.

"Yah!" Coups gasped, after he realized. "What did you do that for?"

"Everyone, I did that for everyone," Wonwoo muttered, gathering his things. "We have an early schedule tomorrow. Let's get moving."

You never had feelings for Wonwoo, but you could honestly kiss him right now.

"You heard him!" you yelled, pulling yourself to your feet as well. "Let's get moving!"

..

"Why didn't you like my song?" Seungcheol hiccupped. You were easing him up the steps to his apartment, holding nearly all of his body weight in the process.

"I liked your song just fine," you cringed, another flight of stairs behind you.

"You looked miserable," he pouted. "Why don't you ever take my confessions seriously, Y/N?"

"Because you don't take your confessions seriously," you muttered. Furrowing your brow, you counted the numbers on the apartment doors until you found his. "What's your code this week?"

"I can't tell you," he slurred. "It's a se-se-secret."

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you fluttered your hand toward the door. "Type it in then."

Seungcheol hiccupped again before slumping in the direction of the doorframe. Cupping his hand around the keypad, he eyed you suspiciously. "This is for my safety."

"I know, Cheolie," you laughed. "I'm not arguing with you."

Glancing back to the keypad, he stumbled back a bit. Catching him by the shoulders, you waited for the door to unlock.

"Why are there so many numbers?" Coups sighed, leaning against the door again and poking at the lock. "Three two's? Which two is the right two?"

"Let me try," you hummed. "Can you tell me what your code is?"

"My manager said not to tell anyone. Not even my mom."

"And you can change it as soon as I leave," you sighed. "If we can't get in, you're sleeping on the door mat tonight. And that's not very safe, is it?"

"Why can't I stay with you?" he asked, his eyes brightening with the sudden idea.

"Because I am not hauling you downstairs again and then another three blocks," you grumbled. "The code, please Coups."

"I like it when you call me Cheolie," he pouted.

"Cheolie, my sweet bean," you said, trying to contain your exhaustion. "Will you please tell me the code?"

"Mmm," he hummed, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck. "Is my birthday."

"Shocker," you breathed, rapidly typing in the lock code. The door made a small buzzing sound before chiming that you could enter.

Stumbling into his apartment, you flipped on the lights and popped off your shoes before heading to the kitchen. Seungcheol, on the other hand, toppled to the floor and began yanking at his shoes.

Scanning the cabinets, you found his most spill-proof tumbler and filled it with ice water. Judging by the muffled sounds of frustration in the entryway, he was still taking off his sneakers.

Turning the corner, you could only sigh. He looked like a toddler sorely in need of a nap. "They won't come off," he said quietly before looking up at you.

"Here," you said, handing him the water bottle. "Drink."

Doing as he was told, he gripped the bottle with both hands, and leaned back against the wall. You crouched down, making quick work of his shoelaces before you managed to finally free him.

"Let's get you to bed," you murmured, motioning for him to take your hand. He slid his palm into yours before easing himself up.

"How could I go from feeling so good to feeling so awful?" he muttered.

"Funny how alcohol will do that," you chuckled, walking with him to his bedroom. "Arms up."

Setting his drink on his desk, he lifted his arms into the air and allowed you to pull his hoodie from his torso. Losing balance after the motion, he toppled onto the mattress, pulling you with him.

"Hey!" you groaned, immediately trying to separate yourself.

"Stay with me," he said softly, tangling his arms and legs around you. "Please?"

He was always affectionate when he was drunk, and you knew that. You needed to shut it down now before your heart could coax you into staying a little longer.

"I have to go home," you whispered, still not willing your body to move. You tried not to be amused as Seungcheol began pulling blankets around you and tucking them in.

"You are home," he whispered. "Right here with me."

You felt an unwelcomed warmth spread through your chest. If he wasn't so cute this would be a lot easier.

"Seungcheol..."

"Seungcheol, Seungcheol, Seungcheol," he continued quietly, settling himself in beside you. "Why do you always give me reasons why you can't stay instead of just trying?"

A little voice inside the back of your head repeated the old adage, drunk minds speak sober hearts. Coups was only clingy when he had too much to drink, but he had always been tender with you. Whether sober or inebriated, he was your person. You had never allowed yourself to think past platonic soulmates...but maybe...

"You're drunk," you countered. You felt so small in bed next to him. He was comfort and safety, even with soju on his breath.

"And you're scared."

He couldn't see the code to get into the apartment, but he could sure see right through you.

"It doesn't matter what I am," you whispered. "You'll regret this in the morning."

"No, I won't," he insisted. "Because I'll wake up with you next to me and I'll remember that drunk me did hangover me a solid.

I want you here, Y/N."

"Because you're drunk."

"Because you're mine," he said softly. "You always have been."

"Have I?" you whimpered. At this point, you were scared to break the spell. Scared that he would sober up and kick you out of his bed.

"Mhm," he cooed, pulling you closer. After placing a light kiss on your forehead, he chose to set his cheek there. "And I won't let go. Not even if there's a fire."

Anything that looked blurry now could be settled in the morning. How could you leave after that?

.

The Morning After

[austinbutlerslovers]

Power & Control

Label Mature 18+

Feyd Rautha x You Oneshot

Summary Feyds rise to power takes an unexpected turn when the rebel Muad'dib disrupts the empire. After his uncle's death, Feyd becomes Baron, only to learn that Muad'dib is actually Earl Paul Atreides, seeking to avenge his father. Feyd defeats Paul, stopping his bid for the throne. Now, Feyd faces his most formidable opponent yet: his bride to be you the princess of the empire.

‼️Update the entire story has been rewritten from Feyd x Irulan to Feyd x You due to dm demand 🥵

Starts off Dune Part 2 Ends with Sexual Oblivion

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Breeding kink •edging•fingering•overstimulation• oral female •squirting •nipple play• wedding night• light power play• consummation •male dominance •P in V• mating press•multiple orgasms•cream pie •sexed into submission

Master List ••• Upcoming List

Power & Control

In the harsh and unforgiving empire of the universe, power was the ultimate conquest in a game of life and death, where only the strong and cunning prevail. The climactic battles that shaped the destiny of the known universe reached a turning point on the desert planet of Arrakis.

Paul Atreides, a former Earl of the empire, rose to power in exile on the planet after the assassination of his father the Duke. With reverence, he assumed the mantle of Muad’Dib, his authority alongside his Fremen warriors was unchallenged on Arrakis. By sabotaging the current ruler of the planet, the Harkonnen Baron of Geidi Prime, Paul gained control over the empire's crucial spice fields.

Paul sent an invitation to the emperor to form an alliance in a surprise move against the Baron who was unaware of the coup. But as soon as the emperor arrived, Paul double crossed him launching a swift and brutal attack on the Arrakeen palace with his formidable Fremen forces. The empire’s downfall seemed inevitable as Paul’s Fremen warriors surged into the opulent palace, following the orders of their prophetic Muad’Dib.

Inside the throne room, tension gripped the air as dignitaries and officials of the imperial court awaited their fate. The air grew thick as the Harkonnen Baron and his nephews, along with you and your father the Emperor, awaited the inevitable confrontation.

The screams from outside grew faint as the chaos of battle drew closer, until the sudden explosion of the throne room door shattered the silence. In strode Paul Atreides, cloaked and unrecognizable, his identity hidden from all. Without hesitation, he made his way to the Harkonnen Baron, blade in hand. With unyielding determination, he plunged the knife into the Baron’s neck, ending his life in a swift and decisive blow.

The Baron fell to the floor, convulsing, as shock rippled through the throne room. None were more stunned than the Baron’s nephews, Feyd Rautha and Rabban Harkonnen. With his uncle’s demise, Feyd, as his successor, instantly ascended to the position of Baron. Feyd’s face displayed a flurry of emotions: shock, disbelief, and then a realization of the immense responsibility thrust upon him.

Suddenly finding himself as the new Baron, Feyd grappled with the weight of his new role. His mind only set on the desire to overthrow the Muad’dib for the chaos he had caused the empire and avenging the death of a leader in his Harkonnen lineage by defeating him in hand to hand combat..

After murdering the Baron Paul confronted the Emperor and revealed his true identity as the son of Leto Atreides. His motives for revenge stemmed from the emperor’s treachery, striking a deal with the Baron who eliminated his father and wiped out his planet. With his true identity unveiled Paul sent word to the great houses, leveraging the threat of the spice fields on Arrakis, which they heavily profited from, to compel their presence.

His true intention however was to out the emperor for his war crimes and avenge the death of his father.

The Proposal

Paul leveraged with the Emperor to confess his crimes before the Great Houses arrived, vowing that he would take your hand as his Princess to become the Emperor and keep you safe.

The Emperor flat out refused Paul’s proposal, his voice filled with disdain.

“Your father was a weak man and a poor leader,” he sneered.

His words enraged Paul who challenged the Emperor to a duel. Because of his old age the Emperor fell silent. However Feyd waiting in the wings immediately stepped up to the occasion 

Following the death of his uncle, Feyd had been waiting for the opportune moment to challenge Paul to the death, a final confrontation that would determine the fate of the known universe whoever winning ultimately becoming emperor.

“I am here Atreides” Feyd announced stepping from the crowd of the imperial court. “I will need a blade” he said with laced intimidation.

“Accept mine” the Emperor said hastily as he glared at Paul wanting him disposed.

Feyd took the Emperors dagger in his hand and studied its weight and design.

The duel was set at that very moment in the great throne room of Arrakeen, with the Fremen, and the empirical court bearing witness.

As Feyd and Paul met in the middle of the throne room, Paul took his stance, his expression resolute. Feyd stood stoically, his gaze fixed on his opponent.

“May thy knife chip and shatter,” Paul recited solemnly, drawing from the teachings of respect during battle he had learned from his new people on his adoptive planet.

Feyd echoed the words, but with a distain, a reflection of his loyalty to the emperor. “May thy knife chip and shatter,” he replied in a mocked tone. 

As they faced each other, the tension was electric. Paul, the prophetic leader of the Fremen, against Feyd, the cunning and ambitious new Baron of Geidi Prime.

The duel began with ferocity, both men showcasing their formidable skills. Paul, seemed almost untouchable, predicting Feyd’s every move. However, Feyd was a meticulous fighter using his cunningness and agility to counter Paul’s foresight.

The battle raged on, and just as Paul began to gain the upper hand, Feyd feigned a misstep, drawing Paul in close. Seizing the moment with ruthless precision, Feyd delivered a fatal stab into Paul’s ribs, twisting the blade deeper to intensify his internal injury. Paul staggered back, rasping for breath, his gaze fixed on the blade embedded in his ribs and fell to his knees.

As Paul’s strength waned, Feyd joined him kneeling  down and pulling him close in the intimate moment.  This was a personal act of revenge. A cruel smile played on Feyd’s lips as he whispered the final insult, “You fought well, Atreides,” slowly withdrawing the blade from Paul’s ribs. He allowed the blood to leak from the wound, the crimson stain spreading across the fabric of Paul’s stillsuit.

With a swift and decisive strike, Feyd delivered the fatal blow, plunging the blade through Paul’s neck and ending the legendary Muad’Dib’s resistance in a swift and brutal act, mirroring the death of his own uncle. The stunned audience watched in horror as Paul’s lifeless body slumped to the ground.

Wails filled the throne room as Paul’s loyal Fremen rushed to aid their fallen leader. Feyd stood victorious amidst the chaos, his triumph undeniable as he gazed upon the scene before him, the taste of victory bitter on his lips.

The fall of Paul Atreides marked the rise of Feyd Rautha, the newly ascended Baron. He knew this was his chance to fulfill his uncle’s desires and ascend to the higher position of emperor. Raised being manipulated by the former Baron, Feyd was power hungry, and all of their political calculations this was the ultimate goal.

Seizing the moment, Feyd moved swiftly to consolidate his power and assert his rule over the empire. He knelt before the Emperor, his voice steady as he requested his approval to marry you his daughter the Princess of the empire.

“Emperor,” Feyd began, his tone respectful yet determined, “I humbly ask for the honor of your daughter’s hand in marriage. With her by my side, I vow to serve the empire faithfully and uphold its traditions.”

Gasps filled the throne room at Feyd’s boldness to propose such a request at this pivotal moment. The Emperors courtiers exchanged startled glances, some murmuring in disbelief at the audacity.

The Emperor, however, remained composed, his expression unreadable as he considered Feyd’s proposal. After a tense moment of silence, he nodded slowly, acknowledging Feyd’s words.

“Feyd Rautha,” the Emperor finally spoke, his voice carrying authority, “you have shown courage and loyalty in your service to the empire on this day. I grant you consent to marry my daughter, princess of the empire. May this union bring strength to our dynasty and prosperity to our realm.” The throne room fell silent with the sudden transition of power on the Emperor’s decision.

With the Emperor’s approval, Feyd rose to his feet, a sense of triumph coursing through him. But he knew his true test lay ahead as he approached you, daughter of the Emperor, Princess of Kaitan. 

You radiated regal confidence and beauty. Your meticulously styled hair complemented your high cheekbones, accentuating your striking eyes. Your face exuded delicacy and aristocracy, with an elegance that commanded attention. The immaculate gown you adorned clung gracefully to your form, enhancing every elegant curve.

Feyd desired you greatly, his eyes transfixed on your radiant face before lowering to your bosom and settling on your bodice as you approached him. You moved with a grace and confidence that demanded respect and admiration.

Your reputation in the empire preceded you; Feyd was well aware of your sharp mind. More than just your physical allure, he was drawn to the cunning and discerning intellect that lay beneath your serene exterior. You possessed a keen wit, which made him even more eager to posses you.

You were well aware of the Harkonnens’ insatiable lust for power and control, knowing the depths to which his family would go to achieve their goals. The history between your houses was fraught with conflict and betrayal, and you hesitated to trust Feyd.

As he stood before you, his gaze was unwavering, his voice steady with determination.

“Princess, I understand your reservations of our union due to the history of our houses, but I assure you, this union is not just for the benefit of House Harkonnen. It is for the stability of the entire empire.”

You met Feyd’s gaze with your expression guarded. “You speak of stability, but I cannot ignore the history of House Harkonnen.” You replied, your voice tinged with skepticism.

Feyd bowed his head respectfully. “I do not ask you to forget the past, Princess, but together, we can forge a new path forward.” He vowed.

You remained stoic though you felt drawn to the sincerity of his words. Despite knowing all too well the scrupulous dealings of the Harkonnens ,you could clearly see in him an unyielding loyalty to your father and the empire.

Despite the Harkonnens involvement in many atrocities, you understood they had been pivitol in your father’s accomplishments. With Feyd by your side, you could ensure his continued obedience. The political marriage was a golden opportunity you could not refuse.

After a moment in deep contemplation, you nodded, a hint of resignation in your eyes. “Very well, Feyd Rautha. I will marry you, for the sake of the empire.”

A light round of applause filled the throne room, a subtle acknowledgment of your wisdom and leadership, particularly with your father’s guidance.

With the agreement reached, you and Feyd were set to marry on the Imperial planet, your home world of Kaitain. The grand ceremony would not only solidify your union but also symbolize the merging of two powerful houses in the beginning of a new era for the empire.

The Wedding 

 As preparations began for the momentous occasion, whispers of anticipation echoed through the halls of both House Harkonnen and the imperial court. All eyes turned toward the upcoming union, curious to see how it would shape the future of the universe.

The wedding of you as Princess of the Empire and Feyd Rautha as Baron of Geidi Prime, was a spectacle beyond compare. A grand and meticulously planned event was set to take place befitting your powerful union.

Held on the sprawling garden grounds of your ancestral palace on the planet of Kaitain. The event drew the nobility of the entire universe, each eager to witness the dawn of a new era.

The palace grounds were adorned with opulent decorations, from cascading curtains of shimmering silk to intricate floral arrangements of the planet that perfumed the air with a soft fragrance. Illuminated shimmering lights and lanterns adorned every tree surrounding the wedding venue in the gardens, the scene was nothing short of majestic, impressive to all who beheld it.

As the ceremony commenced, you and Feyd stood before a gathering of esteemed guests, your regal attire resplendent in the soft glow of light under a full moon. Feyd, now adorned in the black ceremonial robes of an emperor, radiated confidence and authority, his presence commanding the attention of all who watched.

You wore a radiant and intricate shimmering silver bridal gown, exuding grace and poise as you exchanged vows with your new husband. Your union was not a joining of hearts but a merging of power.

Amidst the solemnity of the vows, there was also an undercurrent of excitement and anticipation, as guests whispered amongst themselves, speculating on the future of the empire under the rule of Emperor Feyd Rautha his Empress.

As the ceremony drew to a close, you exchanged a meaningful glance with Feyd, your hands entwined in a gesture of unity and strength. With the echoes of applause filling the air, you and Feyd stepped forward united, your ascension marking the dawn of a new era for the empire.

Wedding Night 

As the celebrations wound down, you and Feyd retired to your private chambers. The suite was adorned with rich tapestries and ornate furniture, a testament to the wealth and power you now held. Despite the lavish surroundings, an air of tension hung between you two .

You, ever the picture of regal composure, sat by the window on an ornate coach, gazing out at the lush moonlit landscape of your planet Kaitan. You had known many sacrifices in your life, but this marriage was perhaps the greatest. Feyd, still in his wedding attire, approached you cautiously. Despite his outward confidence, he was acutely aware of the complex emotions and ambitions that swirled around your union.

“Empress,” he began, his voice a blend of courtesy and underlying steel. “Tonight, we have forged a new path for the empire. We must work together to ensure its stability and our place within it.”

You turned to face him, your eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and resignation. “I understand the necessity of our marriage, Feyd. But understand this: I will not be a mere pawn in your games. I have my own influence and my own goals.”

Feyd smiled, a sharp calculating expression that showed his appreciation for your spirit. “I would expect nothing less from you,Empress. I value your intelligence greatly. Together, we can achieve much.”

Despite your political alliance, there was an unspoken bond between you two. Both of you had been used by those more powerful, and both of you sought to carve out your own legacies. Feyd poured two glasses of wine and handed one to you, a gesture of tentative understanding.

“To our future,” he toasted, raising his glass.

You hesitated for a moment, then raised your glass as well. “To a future where we shape our own destinies.”

As you sipped the wine, the tension between you began to ease, replaced by a mutual understanding of your shared predicament. Feyd moved closer, taking a seat beside you. “Tell me, Empress, what is it you desire most in this new empire?”

Your eyes flickered with the intensity of your unspoken dreams. “I desire stability for the empire, prosperity for its people, and to be remembered not just as an empress, but as a ruler who shaped history.”

Feyd nodded, appreciating your ambition. “And I, too, seek to be more than just a Harkonnen. I want to be the emperor who brought order and power to the universe.”

Feyd refilled your wine glasses and you sat in silence for a moment, contemplating the future you would build together in marriage. Both of you recognized the potential for a powerful alliance. Feyd, with his ruthless ambition, and you, with your sharp intellect and royal connections, could become a force to be reckoned with.

With the wine taking effect you both began to really study each other. You were both breathtakingly attractive, each possessing a unique allure that captivated the other. Feyd’s handsome features and piercing blue eyes held a certain edginess, a magnetism that drew you to him. Despite the air of dark mystery that surrounded him, you found yourself utterly drawn to his presence.

In return, Feyd couldn’t help but be spellbound by your undeniable perfection. Your grace, your poise, your every movement seemed to exude a regal elegance that left him in awe. He had always admired you from afar, his gaze filled with the ambitions of his uncle to gain power and marry you, thus ascending to the throne.

Now that he finally had you, Feyd couldn’t deny the surge of emotion that coursed through him as he looked into your eyes.

He cautiously reached forward and pressed his hand to your face, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips. To his delight, you smiled, mirroring his gesture by bringing your own hand up to rest on top of his own. In that simple exchange, he sensed your acceptance.

As your hands intertwined, you both felt the weight of silent expectations pressing down upon you, the need to solidify your relationship and secure your legacy. 

With a tender touch, Feyd slid his hand from your cheek down to your collarbone, his thumb tracing a delicate path along your skin. He locked eyes with you, silently conveying his admiration and respect. With each lingering glance, he revealed his desire to possess you, to claim you as his own.

In that moment, you realized you held a sort of power over him, you could easily deny him and that was both thrilling and intimidating. Your eyes remained locked in silent communication and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of being his, completely and utterly. He was powerful and intelligent his handsomeness only adding to the allure.

Feyd’s hand ventured lower, his fingertips creating a tantalizing path across the hemline of your royal wedding gown, tracing the delicate lace at your exposed bosom. You instinctively pressed your hand over Feyds to stop him.

Your expression was unreadable as he met your gaze, a mask of composure concealing the depth of your attraction to him. Despite your desire for Feyd you were not willing to let him overtake you completely; you wanted to challenge him, to test the limits of your arrangement, dictating how you would allow him to proceed.

“You are… quite attractive Feyd Rautha,” you acknowledged, your voice maintaining its stoic facade. “However, physical appearance is of little consequence compared to one’s character and integrity.”

Feyd’s lips curved into a knowing smile at your response, catching the subtle flicker of attraction in your eyes. He recognized the game you were playing, sensing your desire to assert control over him, a challenge he was more than willing to meet.

“Your wisdom is as striking as your beauty,” he replied, his voice low and measured. “I value your perspective, Empress, and rest assured, I intend to prove myself worthy of both your character and integrity tonight” Feyd assured with lingering gaze. As he spoke, you felt a warmth spread through you in the way he hinted at his desires.

Even in his lust for you, Feyd recognized the depth of your significance. Your irresistible combination of intelligence and authority were qualities that both enticed and challenged him, fueling his desire to assert dominance. He was intoxicated by the allure of your mind and your power.

As Feyd set your wine glasses aside, the moment thickened with anticipation as you locked eyes. The soft glow of the moon illuminating your faces, casting an ethereal aura around you both.

Feyd’s gaze darkened with such an intense sensuality that it sent waves of anticipation racing through you. The power play in his head was finalized. His certainty surged as he observed the anticipation in your eyes, knowing he could conquer you completely.

He rested back in confidence a smile playing on his lips “You are a formidable force my Empress,” Feyd confessed, his voice low and husky with desire. “But I would expect nothing less from a woman of your stature.” He grinned.

You met his gaze with a coy smile, your eyes glinting with sexual intrigue. “And yet, you seem to be equally formidable as my emperor,” you chided.

Feyd’s gaze locked onto yours with a silent challenge; if your eyes faltered he would take you, and when your eyes slowly drifted to his lips, he seized you without a word, pulling you close and dominating your mouth in a commanding kiss.

His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him, a silent demand for your surrender and you placed your hands to cup his strong jaw accepting his passion.

With a fervor that bordered on possessiveness, he deepened the kiss, his lips claiming yours with an intensity that ignited a fire within you, his dominance evident in every movement. Every touch, every sensation sent waves of desire coursing through your veins, your body responding to the passion of his kiss with a fervor you had never known.

As you finally parted, your heart raced with exhilaration, your senses still reeling from the intensity of the encounter. You gazed into Feyd’s eyes, your own filled with a new found passion and longing, knowing that this kiss had changed everything between you both. 

In the moonlight, you looked radiant your swollen lips and flushed face captivating Feyd even more.  He felt the desire coursing through him, a primal urge to possess you completely. With stoic determination, he stood and offered you his hand.

“Come, Empress,” he said in a dominant manner, his voice tinged with authority, reminding you of his status as emperor. Despite his respect for you, he made it clear that you belonged to him.

You slowly stood, feeling a rush of heat in your chest as you took his hand. Looking up at him, you felt a mixture of desire and anticipation, your heart pounding with each step as he led you to the bedchamber.

The Consummation

As you reached the ornate doors of the entrance, you shared a lingering glance, a silent exchange of anticipation and desire. With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Feyd released you, and you parted ways to your dressing chambers to change into the ceremonial robes in line with the Kaitan tradition to consummate your union.

You felt a mix of excitement and nervousness as you prepared yourself for the momentous occasion ahead. As you slipped into your robe, the weight of your responsibilities as empress settled upon your shoulders. Yet, beneath the thin layer of you silk robe you felt a flutter of excitement, a sense of anticipation for what was to come with Feyd.

Meanwhile, Feyd adorned himself in robe befitting his status as emperor, his thoughts consumed by the significance of the event that lay ahead. He knew that tonight would mark a new chapter in your relationship, one that would bind you together in ways you had never imagined.

Emerging from your separate rooms, you stood across from each other in the grandeur of the palace bedchamber.

Your robe was a vision of opulence, crafted from silk spun with threads of gold, adorned with intricate filigree along the edges. It draped elegantly around you, the fabric flowing softly with each movement. In contrast, Feyd’s robe was a symbol of regal simplicity, midnight black in color, its rich fabric enveloped him like a cloak of shadows.

As you met in the center of the palace bed chamber, your eyes were both drawn to the centerpiece of the room, an ornate bed fit for royalty. Carved from the finest Kaitain wood with hand painted gilding, the bed’s towering posts reached towards the vaulted ceiling, intricately adorned with motifs of delicate florals. Luxurious silk curtains, the same hue as your robe, cascaded down from the canopy tied to its posts, creating an aura of privacy and intimacy.

Feyd reached out and took your hand pulling you close“We are stronger together,” he said softly his voice conveying the depth of your shared resolve.

You nodded, feeling the heat of his body against yours and leaning in closer, as your arms wrapped around his neck. With your chest o pressed against his you looked up into his eyes “Yes, we are,” you agreed, your voice filled with anticipation.

With a determined look you leaned in and pressed your lips to Feyd’s and his hands instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, unable to resist you.

Your kiss was filled with purpose, a silent acknowledgment of the responsibilities you shared. Feyd returned your kiss with intensity, boldly enveloping your mouth with his own. In a daring move, he slid his hand down your front, his fingers deftly working at the knot to untie the silk robe draping your figure. 

You broke the kiss, your resolve firm as you gently pushed Feyd back asserting your power. You held his gaze with unwavering determination as you slowly loosened the knot of the robe on your own accord.

“True strength lies not in dominance Feyd, but in the art of giving and receiving” you said seductively as you you pulled the robe apart only slightly. Your movements were deliberate, savoring the moment to reveal yourself to him completely.

You knew the reputation of Harkonnen men, aggressive and often brutal, but you sensed Feyd would be gentle with you. Seeing the admiration he held for you in his eyes you were prepared to fulfill him as his Empress.

Feyd watched you with a mixture of admiration and reverence as you allowed the silk to slip from your shoulders, revealing yourself to him inch by tantalizing inch until it gathered in a shimmering heap on the floor. Feyds gaze lingered on your figure in awe as you stood before him, your naked form bathed in the soft glow of the room’s moonlight. Your skin was smooth and flawless accentuated by the gentle curves of your body.

Feyd couldn’t help but feel a surge of desire stir within him. Your beauty was breathtaking, a vision of regal grace and elegance that captivated his senses. He swiftly untied and discarded his robe, revealing his sculpted physique beneath and leaving you stunned. Your gaze was immediately drawn to the impressive length of his throbbing, engorged cock.

You regained your senses and slowly drew your eyes back up to study the rest of his ivory skinned body. He was striking and tall, a warrior in every sense. His muscular physique was evident, his chiseled arms, defined abs, and powerful legs spoke of strength and resilience. But most of all, your gaze lingered on the thick, pulsating shaft of his cock, its veiny texture and prominent head a testament to his overwhelming desire for you.

He grinned seeing your gaze unwavering on the size of his cock “Don’t worry Empress, I will prepare you for it.” he reassured with a confident tone.

His words made your chest rise and fall with each breath, trying to contain your excitement. He pulled you close, the warmth of his skin against yours sending a wave of anticipation washing over you. When the firmness of his stiff cock brushed against your thighs, it caused you to tremble with anticipation.

“Don’t fear, Empress ,” Feyd said gently, his voice soothing your nerves. “I will take good care of you.” He vowed “I trust you Feyd” you responded, your voice barely above a whisper

His words calmed your racing heart, and his lips captured yours again as a fire ignited within you, consuming you with desire. Feyd’s hands reached down to your full bosom, his touch gentle yet possessive as he caressed each one, his thumbs tracing delicate patterns around your nipples. His grasp tightened his hunger evident in the way he cupped your breasts together squeezing the softness of your flesh pressing against his palms. The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making your heart pound faster within his firm grasp.

Your hand shakily came up to touch the side of his face, a silent plea for him to slow down, to savor the moment. Instead he brought his hand down between your legs, exploring your folds, his fingertips swirling your entrance to feel your arousal for him.

His touch sent shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body as he dipped into your wetness, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you completely.

Feyd’s voice was husky with desire as he whispered, “Do you like it, my Empress? Do you want more?” His words echoed in the air, adding to the intensity of the moment as he waited for your response, his own desire burning in his eyes.

You could barely hold his gaze as his fingers slipped through your wet folds. Your voice came out shaky as you stuttered, “Y-yes Feyd.” He grinned at your response, a surge of triumph coursing through him as he finally pushed his fingers deeply inside of you, filling you up with each thrust. Waves of pleasure washed over you, making you shudder and tighten around him. 

As he continued his ministrations, moans of pleasure escaped you with each thrust of his fingers. You felt tight inside, nearing the peak of release. Feyd pulled you closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I will fulfill you many times tonight, empress. You will find my attraction for you is insatiable.” His confession sent shivers down your spine, and you wrapped your hands around his firm biceps, losing yourself in the sensation of his thrusts.

His hand, rough and strong, moved with a precise, almost relentless rhythm as he increased the speed of his fingers. They became soaked as he slipped them in and out of you, and moans of pleasure began to fall from your lips, each thrust driving you closer to the brink of ecstasy.

Feeling your tightness gripping against him, Feyd knew that your release was imminent. Your walls convulsed as you suddenly orgasmed, your head tilting back in shock as a short, pleasure-filled sound escaped from your throat. Feyd held you tightly against him as waves of ecstasy washed over you, enveloping you both in the blissful aftermath of passion. He continued to finger you, prolonging the pleasure as long as possible, savoring every moment of your shared ecstasy.

The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, the first orgasm of the night coursing through you with undeniable force. You felt a sense of relief wash over you, sighing in contentment looking into Feyds eyes as he withdrew his fingers from you.

His eyes smoldered with desire as he gazed at you, observing your descent from the high. Your mouth panting and your eyes lidded with the aftermath of pleasure. You felt a wave of exhilaration wash over you, a longing to surrender yourself completely to him.

“Take me, Feyd,” you relented, your voice barely above a whisper, laden with anticipation.

Feyd’s gaze darkened with desire as he leaned in, drawing your body closer into his embrace. His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. Before I take you, Empress,” he confessed, his voice thick with need, “I must taste you.”

Your eyes darkened with passion as you looked up at him, you voice a breathless whisper as you replied, “Yes, Feyd taste me, devour me as you desire.” You wanted him to consume you, and claim you for his own pleasure, dominating you in the most intimate of ways.

He smiled pulling you in close and trailed kisses along your neck. His lips lingered as he teased your nipples, discovering your hidden weakness as you responded to his touch with a soft gasp. He tugged your peaks gently into his fingers, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting more soft gasps of pleasure from you. His touch alternated between teasing and pinching, each sensation sending waves of desire coursing through your body.

“Does my Empress want more ?” he whispered huskily against your ear. He pulled back to look into your eyes seeking permission to indulge you further in the pleasure he offered.

Though it was only the second time he asked you to indulge in more you were already at your limit, your mind clouded with desire for him. You wanted everything he had to give.

You could barely form words as you nodded and a weak “Y-yes Feyd” fell from your lips. A hint of pride gleamed in his eyes 

“As you wish, Empress,” he said, his voice sensual as he cupped your breasts in his hands. Feyd lavished attention on them, his lips and tongue exploring every inch with a mix of reverence and hunger. He suckled each nipple, teasing them with his tongue tracing delicate circles around them.

Feyd sensed your responsiveness as you panted and stared at him with lust. He intensified his movements, flicking his tongue across your sensitive peaks with his eyes locked on yours filled a primal hunger. You watched him tantalize you causing desperate little cries escape from your lips.

He knew he was making you lose yourself to the pleasure he was giving you, and he reveled in the power it gave him.

An intense moan of pleasure fell from your lips as you gazed down at Feyd sucking on each of your breasts with calculated precision. He teased pulling your nipple into his mouth with enough suction to send tingles of sensation coursing through your body. Your response was immediate, a loud moan filling the room as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming sensations he was evoking.

“Feyd, take me please!” You begged again, your voice trembling with desire. He released you nipple from his mouth and paused to assess your condition.  Your thighs glistened with arousal, and you body quivered with anticipation. He lifted you into his arms and easily carried you to lay in the center of the ornate bed. The silk sheets were cool against your overheated skin. Feyd settled between your legs, his hands trailing down your body ready to fulfill your every desire.

“Empress, I told you I would fulfill you several times tonight” he grinned , parting your legs gently. “I will give you what you desire, but like I said I must devour you first,” he clarified. You nodded feeling so overcome with desire for him you were trembling.

With a tender touch, Feyd parted your folds, holding them open as he leaned down and pressed his warm mouth onto you. You arched your back, fingers gripping the silk sheets tightly as you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating sensation. 

He started with slow, teasing licks, savoring the taste of your arousal. His tongue moved with purpose, tracing intricate patterns along your sensitive clit, each stroke designed to elicit the most powerful sensation.

He explored every crevice and fold committing your taste and texture to memory. With each pass of his tongue, he felt your muscles spasm in response, a sign of your overwhelming pleasure.

Feyd’s movements became more intense, his tongue delving deeply into your throbbing core coaxing your release with deliberate licks. His focus solely on driving you to the pinnacle of ecstasy.

Suddenly, your thighs tightened around his head, a silent reaction that you were at your peak. Feyd added his finger to stroke your clit, intensifying the sensation even more, driving you to the edge of release. Every muscle in your body tensed as you toppled the peak, and with a cry of euphoria, you came in his mouth gently bucking your hips against him, lost in the throes of pleasure. He held you steady, stimulating you with his mouth and tongue to prolong your ecstasy. He savored every drop of your essence, fulfilling the desire he had harbored since the moment he laid eyes on you.

He wiped his mouth as he sat up and grinned seeing you lay panting on the bed gazing up and him in pure surrender. 

Feyd’s intentions were clear; he had long contemplated your dynamic. Despite speaking of unity, he always harbored the desire to assert dominance. Now he would consummate your union. With your political influence in his grasp, you would be his to command, forever bound to his will.

He moved closer, his eyes locked onto yours with a fierce intensity. “Empress , on this night, I will make you mine in every way. I will plant my seed within you, and you will bear my heir. You will be bound to me, body and soul.”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest from his words with excitement and trepidation . Feyd’s hands roamed your body, his touch both possessive and intoxicating. “I will enjoy every moment of the creation,” he whispered, brushing his hand across your navel, knowing it would soon be a womb, the realization sent a wave of excitement down your spine. “You will carry my legacy within you and solidify my power.” Feyd declared.

You swallowed hard, meeting his gaze with a mixture of defiance and acceptance. “If that is my fate,” you replied, your voice steady but soft, “I will accept it. But remember, Feyd, power shared is power doubled. Together, we can be unstoppable.”

Feyd grinned at your final grasp for control, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “My Empress,” he said, voice dripping with satisfaction, “I see you understand the game well. Very well. Yes together, we will forge an empire unmatched.” he said. As he leaned in closer, his lips where inches from yours as he stated “But never forget who controls the empire” 

You stared up at him in realization of your position and Feyds eyes burned with a fierce intensity reveling in his control over you. He seductively pushed your legs apart, positioning himself with commanding precision. His powerful, muscled body hovered over yours savoring the sight of your exposed vulnerability before he pressed his tip against your entrance and pushed into you with a single, forceful thrust. The sheer size of him filled you completely, eliciting a gasp of shock and pleasure from your parted lips.

He waited patiently, feeling the tension in your body gradually ease as you adjusted to his size. His hand pressed gently against your pelvis, feeling the bulge of himself inside you. The sensation of his own hardness through your flesh sent a wave of possessive satisfaction through him, intensifying his desire. He could feel every inch of himself enveloped by your warmth, and it fueled his hunger to drive you both to the edge of ecstasy.

When he sensed you relax completely around him, he began to slowly thrust. With each movement, the overwhelming presence of his size filled you entirely, causing light moans of astonishment to fall from your lips.

He was calculated with his movement, aggressive yet controlled, his hips pushing forward with an assertive dominance. Feyd’s thrusts were deep and powerful, driving you closer to the edge with each penetrating stroke. His grunts of exertion mingled with you your breathless moans, created a symphony of desire.

As he increased his speed, your moans grew louder, echoing through the room as your bodies moved in unison. The rhythm of his thrusts was relentless, each powerful drive of his hips pushing you further into a state of overwhelming pleasure.

Feyd’s hands roamed down your body, gripping your hips with possessive strength, pulling you to him with each thrust, making you feel every inch of his cock. The intensity of his movements had you gasping, your body arching in response to the overwhelming sensations. His presence was all consuming, his powerful form a dominating force over you.

As he pounded into you, the pressure built to an unbearable peak. Feyd’s relentless onslaught drove you to the brink, your body trembling under his aggressive passion. Your walls clenched and released rhythmically, pulling him deeper inside of you with every contraction as you cried out for him in passion. Feyd’s gaze locked onto yours, taking in every expression of pleasure that crossed your face, every gasp and moan that escaped your lips, fueled his desire to push you further.

He watched intently as your features shifted in response to his thrusts, your eyes fluttering shut, your lips parting in a silent cry of ecstasy. The flush of arousal painted your cheeks, your skin glowing with a sheen under the dim light of the chamber. Each thrust elicited a symphony of gasps and moans from you, your body arching and writhing beneath him in the throes of pleasure.

“Surrender….-to …-me,” Feyd rasped, his voice rough with desire as he felt your impending release as your walls spasmed on his cock. “Give yourself …-to me entirely .” He demanded intensifying his movements, driving into you with deliberate force, determined to send you spiraling over the edge.

He aimed to draw out the most intense pleasure in you, his own arousal heightened by the sight of your ecstasy. ”I am yours Feyd!” You cried out as your orgasm crashed through you like a tidal wave, he reveled in the sight of your blissful surrender, your face a portrait of unbridled passion. Your loud cries of pleasure echoing throughout the chamber as your body quivered in aftershock.

Feyd continued to move in you, riding out the waves of you climax, his own release approaching. You saw him with an intensified clarity; his muscles, chiseled and defined, flexed and rippled with each powerful thrust. His body moved with a primal force, every movement driving you further into the depths of ecstasy.

His face was a display of raw emotion. His brow furrowed with intensity and his jaw clenching in a mixture of pleasure and restraint. His piercing blue eyes bore into yours with an unyielding intensity, captivating you completely.

You saw him not just as an Emperor, but as a man consumed by the same primal urges resonating within you; power and control. With each heavy thrust, he conveyed his intent, driving into you with deliberate force, his movements a testament to his primal desire to claim you. “You’re mine,” he breathed, his words mingling with the sounds of your passion “Mine to possess….-mine to cherish…-mine to carry my heir.” He rasped 

Your response was a moan of pleasure, as you barely formed the words . “Y-yes Feyd!,” against the powerful dominance of his thrusts.“I’m Yours,” you confessed surrendering to him completely.

Feyd’s lips turned into a satisfied grin savoring the sweet taste of victory. He had bent you to his will, your submission igniting his desire even further. 

With a sudden, forceful motion, he pushed your legs up and to the sides in a mating press, positioning himself to dominate you entirely. His intensity increased, driving into you with renewed vigor, reveling in the power he now held over you. He buried himself deeper inside of you with each thrust, his grip on your thighs tightening, holding you firmly in place.

Your moans grew in intensity, mingling with breathless gasps and soft cries of pleasure. Each powerful thrust sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body, your senses overwhelmed by his relentless assault.

Each powerful thrust, reinforced his control, his need to leave his mark on you was undeniable. With a guttural growl, he gave one last, powerful thrust, his body tensing as he released his hot seed deep inside of you. The sensation of his essence filling you made your core tighten to the breaking point and you locked eyes with him as your body shattered against his, losing yourself entirely to the ecstasy of the moment.

Your cries echoed throughout the chamber, a symphony of pure, unrestrained passion, your body arching and writhing beneath him as he rode you through the waves of your orgasm. When your walls stopped spasming, he released your legs and gently withdrew. The wet, slick sound of his cock sliding free echoed in the room, leaving you breathless and trembling

Feyd held you close, turning you and wrapping his strong arms around your trembling form as you quivered in the aftershocks of pleasure. He caressed your face tenderly, placing kisses across your flushed skin. 

“We are stronger together,” he said with his voice full with conviction and warmth. “Our union will ensure the future of the empire, and our heir will inherit that strength,” he said, trailing his fingers across your jaw.

He looked into your eyes with deep conviction, his gaze unwavering. “I may control the Empire, but it is you who controls my legacy Empress,” he concedes, his voice softer full of sincerity and reverence.

You smiled, a tender and knowing smile.

“Power shared is power doubled,” you said, your voice a gentle caress. You traced your fingertips along his strong jawline and he leaned resting his forehead to yours before he gently kissed you, sealing your vows.

As you lay together, the warmth of each other's closeness calmed you. Slowly, your eyes grew heavier, and you felt his breathing slowly sync with yours.

Keeping your gaze locked on his, you felt a sense of contentment wash over you, mirrored in the softness of his eyes. Together, you drifted into a peaceful sleep fulfilled in both body and purpose

In the harsh and unforgiving empire of the universe, you and Feyd hold the ultimate conquest in a game of life and death, power, where his strength and your cunningness prevail.

✨End ✨

🏷️ Always Tags Me List 💌 @burnthheparaphilia @abswifey @faegoddessog @lindszeppelin @purejasmine @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @magicovento @thegabbyh @fallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @unicoreads @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @shegatsby @denised916 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @meetmeatyourworst @rougegenshin @avidreader73

[minarisplaything]

On the Dance Floor ft. NaMo

pairing: Nayeon x Male Reader x Momo rating: T to M-ish range wc: 1.5k warnings: infidelity prompt:

A night out with your girlfriend's "sister" and her friend takes an unexpected turn.

There were certain lines you didn't cross in life. Lines that, even if not legally wrong, were morally pretty fucking bad. And you were sure that sleeping with your girlfriend's older sister was one of them.

In your defense, you hadn't exactly planned on it happening. It was more the culmination of a series of events that had ultimately led you to this point. To crossing the one line you should have never crossed.

It started with your girlfriend Hwang Yeji going out on a world tour with her idol group. From the time it was announced you knew it would mean a lot of time apart from each other. In fact, because of the nature her job you hadn’t even been able to see her off at the airport. Initially you hadn’t thought anything of it. After all, there was facetime and other long-distance ways to stay in contact during the months that she would be gone. However, you soon realized that her absence would be much harder on you then you realized. It also didn’t help that you were operating in completely different timezones.

It was in this downtrodden state that you received a message from Nayeon. An invitation to join her and Momo for a night at the club. It was an invitation that she wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Oh come onnn, you’ve been moody and couped up inside ever since Yeji left,” Nayeon had whined over the phone.

“Hey, hey, I have not been moody. Plus, I go out still. I go to work, don’t I?”

Nayeon rolled her eyes in response to my answer. Something that I could usually hear in her voice but since we were video calling, I could see the expression for myself. Funny enough, it was through Nayeon and Momo that you had been able to meet Yeji. It had been something of a friend of a friend situation. And while you referred to them as Yeji’s older sisters they weren’t actually. It was just a clever way of referring to them as being in the same company as your girlfriend but having worked there longer.

“That’s not healthy,” Nayeon replied before adding, “Plus you’re going to make Momo sad. I already told her you were coming.”

“Why did you do that?!”

Nayeon merely giggled and shrugged in that mischievous way she did. “So, are you coming then?”

You weighed your options for a moment before finally sighing in defeat, “Alright, alright. I’ll come out with you guys.” You really did need a night out to socialize and unwind after all. If nothing else to take your mind off your longing. Besides, a drink or two wouldn’t hurt.

At least that was what you had thought.

As it would turn out one or two quickly became a few. And a few quickly became lost track of. It seemed you had underestimated just how moody – as Nayeon had put it – you had been lately and how much you desperately needed a night out. It helped that Nayeon and Momo were some of the best company you could go out with; together they were like an unstoppable duo that guaranteed a good time no matter what you were doing. In hindsight, though, it was a recipe for disaster.

“I don’t know how she dances like that,” you commented over the music. More to yourself than to the strawberry blonde sitting across from you.

Your eyes were currently locked on Momo as she danced to the music, seemingly in a zone all her own. Make no mistake about it, your girlfriend was also an extremely talented dancer. But something about the way Momo moved was just more mature, even sensual when she rocked her hips a certain way. It was mesmerizing. Well, that and you had reached the sort of mellowed out stage of night in your drinking. What you didn’t notice was that Nayeon had taken note and was already making plans of her own.

“Dance with me!” her voice snapped you from your trance.

Before you could even begin to protest her hand had grabbed yours and was dragging you to the dance floor, stumbling behind her but managing to hold your balance and not embarrass yourself.

“You know I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve seen the video!”

You could feel your face growing red at that answer. Knowing that the video of you dancing was out there on someone’s phone and was making the rounds – actually it was better not to think about it. Fortunately, as bad as that video was tonight you had Nayeon’s lead to follow. And while Momo was a dancing goddess, Nayeon was no slouch either.

What started as simply vibing with the music, slowly begin to escalate into something more intimate. A body roll here, taking your hand and placing on her hips there. What finally caused your blood pressure to rise was when her arms looped around your neck and she leaned in. So close that you could feel her hot breath against the skin neck. Was this still dancing?

“Nayeon…”

“Are you guys having all the fun without me?”

Momo’s voice at the shell of your ear caused you to snap out of it. However, while you didn’t know it yet, she wasn’t the savior you thought she was.

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Nayeon replied, pulling back slightly.

At first you were grateful, you didn’t trust your ability to talk without fumbling your words. Had you been of sound mind you might've questioned what exactly having fun without her and Nayeon’s response implied. But truth be told, none of you were exactly acting responsibly.

You soon felt Momo press up against you from behind while Nayeon turned herself around, her back pressed into your chest. Nayeon’s arms reached back, her hands finding Momo’s body. Similarly, Momo’s hands moved around you, settling on Nayeon’s hips. You were effectively trapped and yet you couldn’t help but feel torn about whether that was a bad thing.

“Is this what it’s like to be the meat in a sandwich?”

You only realized that you had spoken your thoughts out loud when you heard laughter fall from the girl’s lips. A flush of embarrassment colored your checks, doing your best to look anywhere but at them.

“Is that your fantasy?” Nayeon teased.

In that moment she arched her back, pressing her ass right into your groin. To make matters worse, you couldn’t stop a moan from leaving your lips when she did. You didn’t want to admit it but between the close proximity, the alcohol, and the three of you dancing; you were undoubtedly horny.

“I think it’s more of a dream,” Momo piled on, her hands still gripping Nayeon’s waist.

“I don’t know what you two are talking about,” you insisted.

“Hmm, is that you’re final answer?” Nayeon asked, a teasing lint in her tone. “Are you sure you haven’t thought about it?”

As Nayeon dragged out her words she rotated her ass deliberately slow, practically torturous, against your crotch. You managed to bite down on your lip this time, subduing the pleasured moan to just a strong hum that was masked by the sound of the music. [Nayeon turns around and wraps arms around neck]

“You know I don’t think it’s fair that Yeji gets to keep you all to herself,” Nayeon pouted. “Siblings are supposed to share, right?”

You should have said something, disagreeing preferably, but instead your mind was just focused on the feeling of Momo’s hands running over your chest and Nayeon’s eyes staring at you. You had never noticed it before, but she had a piercing gaze. One that had seemed so innocent before, but now you weren’t so sure.

While you froze up, Nayeon took advantage of the silence; pushing up on her toes and pressing a kiss to your lips. At first you were stunned but soon you began to respond. It crossed your inebriated mind that Nayeon’s lips were softer than you had imagined. You felt Momo’s hands softly stroking your back but other than that your surroundings had become a blur. The music of the club became nothing but a distant thumping as Nayeon cupped your face and deepened the kiss.

Her tongue slipped inside your mouth, dancing with your own tentative at first before delving deeper. There should have been some part of you screaming at how wrong this was. Even stopped you from making a mistake you might regret. Instead, your hands were finding their way around her waist; finally caving to the temptation.

When Nayeon pulled back her cheeks were a rosy color, looking at you with a lustful gaze. You were sure you looked equally disheveled and lost at that moment, but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it. Momo’s hands briefly ran down your chest before Nayeon took your hand in hers.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, holding your gaze before she began to pull you towards the exit.

You didn’t fully know what awaited you for the rest of the night, but you knew you weren’t turning back now.

A/N: Not sure why I never got around to porting my Twice x Male Reader series over here. Probably laziness. Anyway I need some Nayeon and Momo content on my blog so here it is. It was short but hope you enjoyed! Also available on AO3 if you don't want to wait for me to post here. This was originally meant to contain a longer threesome scene at the time of posting but I got writers block. Re-reading it now and after Misamo I might have to re-visit it and give a part two...

[en-wheelz-me]

[toxicanonymity]

birds of prey (one shot)

2600 words, dark RAIDER!tommy x f!reader

Summary: Tommy recently joined the raiding group that killed everyone in your family. When the group comes back to claim the house for their own use, he finds you in the basement. A/N: This is a DIFFERENT READER, not joel's reader. I wanna introduce raider!Tommy before raider joel crosses paths with him (we're not there yet). THANK YOU @dark-scape for the group name, symbol, and soundboard. Also to @romanarose for requesting Tommy in raider!Joel. WARNINGS!!: I8+ mdni, extremely dubious consent unsafe P in V and oral M receiving, dirty talk, pet names, dark/toxic affection- do not be fooled, degradation. NO USE OF Y/N.

The raiders first came a week ago and killed everyone but you–they never found you in the basement.  They took everything they could use, so you aren't sure why they're back, but in your gut you know it's them when you hear the tires on gravel. You make your way down to the basement again. The entry is through a closet floor and it looks like more of a crawl space until you climb down into it. You told everyone it’d be safest there, but they thought if they begged for their lives and let them take everything, the men might be reasonable. 

The short, dirty window at the top of the wall is open and their voices make your stomach turn. 

"Den's big enough, got a kitchen 'n all. Hell, wood's already chopped." They laugh and the door handle jiggles. "Locked?" 

"What? Y'all lock it when ya left?" 

"Didn't think so." 

They bust down the door. 

"So this is it," a new voice announces calmly. "The new nest." 

Someone corrects him, "That's lame, man. You don't gotta call it that when he's not around." 

"Takes this Birds of Prey shit too literally," another man agrees. 

They start showing the new guy around. 

One of the men asks, "think the big guy'll like it?" 

After a moment of silence, someone says "let's talk about the big guy. " It sounds like they're planning a coup. They agree to find somewhere in the house to hide the loot and leave one man behind to guard it overnight. They break up to look for a hiding place. 

—-

Inevitably, the door to your space opens. "Crawlspace," the new voice says.  Then he steps down.  It’s just him.  He hunches over and walks until the ceiling is higher. You're huddled in the corner under a desk.  He scuffs his boot on the ground and a huge layer of dust gets kicked up. He looks around for a minute and says  "alright, alright," to himself. You can only see his boots. Your nose tickles from the dust and you're trying to stave off a sneeze. When his boots turn back toward the door, You're relieved. But you can't keep the tickle at bay. You squeak ever so quietly into your shoulder, then the boots turn in your direction. 

Your heart goes to your throat as the man slowly crouches down. Mustache, long, dark hair, denim jacket with the sleeves rolled up.  Heavily tattooed, though you can’t make anything out.  He raises his eyebrows and his lips purse in bemusement. He clasps his large hands and says “Well hey there,” like he’s speaking to a child.

You’re silent. 

“What are ya doin’ down here?”

“It’s my house,” you say. 

He nods thoughtfully and his brows knit apologetically, but his voice doesn’t match. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he says ominously. “My friends said it’s our house, now.” He frowns exaggeratedly. 

Your eyes sting with the dusty air and you realize you’ve had your eyes wide and not blinked this entire time. 

"MILLER WHERE THE HELL ARE YA," someone yells.  

He sighs and stands up. 

“Don’t tell them,” you beg. 

“Why wouldn’t I,” he asks, still standing up, out of view.  

“I’ll do anything,” you say. 

“Anything,” he repeats, then sighs. “Wouldn’t’ve taken ya for that kinda girl. Looked like an angel to me.” 

“MILLER!!!!”

“Please,” you beg. 

“We’ll see,” he says curtly then turns around and leaves. When he gets up the stairs and opens the door, he announces he found a crawlspace that’ll work. 

—----

They unload the stuff, then someone asks, “Who’s stayin’?”

“New guy,” someone says.

“Can ya handle it, Miller?” another voice asks. “Place like this might get spooky at night.” 

The men chuckle. 

“I’m good,” Miller says. 

“That’s the spirit, Tommy boy.” 

“See ya tomorrow.”

—

Tommy starts bringing crates down, and the men get ready to leave.  They continue to talk amongst themselves upstairs on their way out. Tommy crouches down to look at you, a little closer this time, about two meters away.  He smiles at you then sits on the floor with his hands behind him, not saying anything. As the men leave, you both overhear their crude banter. Tommy looks at the window as he listens. 

"Think she's ready for more?" 

"I call back door first." Your heart drops thinking about whoever’s waiting for them back where they came from. 

"Shit, you can have it. D'ya see the lips on her?"  There’s no way she’s willingly waiting for this disgusting group of men. 

"I wanna see what Tommy boy can do to that pussy."

“Not tonight!” one says and they laugh.

"He doesn't have it in'm," another one says.  

Tommy seems to bristle at this. Then he dons a subtle smirk, looks at you, and slowly sucks in air though his teeth like he's breaking some bad news. "'m afraid I do," he nods. "Just don’t like sharin’."  He sighs.  His nose twitches and you don’t like it. He’s pensive, like he has something to prove. He says, “Hope they don’t do ya like that once they find ya.”

You hug your knees and bury your head to cry. “What do you want,” you ask. 

“Why don’t ya come on out for a start.”

You look at him. He’s not moving from his position. He nods toward the wall as though to give you permission to sit away from him.  He watches you like a hawk as you slowly crawl, still sniffling, and you sit against the wall with your legs out. 

“Good girl,” he says gently, then begins to get up.  You flinch when he stands, but he takes the chair from the desk and turns it to face you.  He sits in it, only about a meter away now.  At this distance, you can see his freckles and the sparkle in his eyes and you hate to admit it, but he’s pretty good looking.  You look at each other for a few seconds.  Apparently he’s thinking the same thing.  “Pretty, too.  Aren’t ya, angel?” 

He leans back and his chest puffs out as he takes off his denim jacket. “Too hot for this,” he mutters and throws it onto the desk. His t-shirt lets you see how strong his chest and arms are as he settles back into the chair and manspreads with his hands on his thighs. One of his hands has a fresh tattoo of a talon on it. His jeans are ripped below the one knee. “So you’ll do anything, huh,” he says contemplatively.  He smooths his hair and looks at the window, then around the room.  “Guess I’ve got all night to find out what that means.” 

You consider your options. If he really doesn’t like sharing, giving yourself to him is your best shot at staying secret from the other men.

“Can I have some water,” you ask.  

He laughs and shakes his head.  “Yeah, what else ya want? A cheeseburger?” He sighs, braces his hands on his knees, and leaves.  He doesn’t come back for hours. 

You’re tired. So tired. It’s been the worst week of your life, and that’s saying a hell of a lot. You’re too tired to fight, too tired to even care what he might do to you.  You fall asleep. 

—--------

You wake up to the sound of boots thudding down the stairs. It’s dark out now.  “Got lost, sorry,” he booms.  He’s carrying a short crate that has a lantern, a jug of water, a bottle of whiskey, and some jerky. He sets the crate down on the desk.  He puts the water jug next to your feet, and he lingers.  He squats down and caresses your cheek with his knuckle. You smell his sweat and you smell he’s been drinking. His lips part as he looks at you, and you try to ignore the sparkle in his eyes in the lamp light. He’s sweaty, and his masculine smell makes you tingle. He offers you some jerky with a little smile but you say, “no thank you.” 

“Those manners,” he whispers with a smile. His mustache twitches charmingly. He takes off his boots and sits next to you on the wall and his large hand engulfs your thigh. He wets his lips and looks at you. “What are we gonna do?” he asks softly. 

“Just tell me what you want,” you whine. 

He shakes his head no. “I wanna know what you want.” 

“I wanna live, I wanna not be gang banged, I want my family back, I want-” you start to cry. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says. He reaches for you and you flinch, but he gets up on his knees and forces you into a consoling embrace. You cry into his shirt and he says “Shhhhh, shhhhhh.” He pats your head. “You’re not gonna get gang banged if you’re mine, I promise.” 

The most unsettling mix of relief and dread floods your upper body.  Your lower body, meanwhile, is all warmth and tingling. Oh, god. He hugs you into his hair which smells like cigarettes, campfire, and something sour. “C’mere,” he says, and uses your hair to pull your head back slightly, gently. Enough to look at your face.

----

He dips his head, and at first all you can do is watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows.  But then his face drifts toward yours, and you tense in anticipation. He closes his eyes and kisses you. His lips are plush and gentle.  Your lips remain firm and still until they don’t. When his tongue brushes the seam of your lips, they let him in.  Your mouths are connected for a good thirty seconds before he breaks the kiss and looks at you.  Then he wraps his hands around your back and lifts you up onto your knees so you’re both kneeling on the cold concrete as he licks into your mouth. He wraps his arms around you tight and attacks your mouth with his again, with more fervor this time, his suction making your lips tingle. 

His cock hardens against you. He breaks the kiss and takes a deep breath against the side of your mouth. He grabs your ass and pulls you into him, pressing his hardness into you.  He sighs. 

Then he lets go of your ass and his hands come between you. He urgently unbuttons and unzips your jeans, then pulls them down.  You feel like there’s no stopping what’s about to happen, so you obediently take them off as he removes his own without taking his eyes off you. “Those too,” he nods at your panties. As you remove them, the damp cotton is cool against your inner thigh and you realize how wet you are. Warmth rushes to your face.  

----

“C’mere, angel,” he whispers, and he sits down in his boxers.  He pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling him, hovering, at first. He reaches between your legs and groans as his fingers meet your wetness.  He gazes at you with wonder in his eyes. “Beautiful girl.” He looks down and watches his hand as he slides his fingers through your folds, front and back.  His strong chest rises and falls with heavy breaths.  He pulls you by the ass, grinding your crotch into the massive tent in his boxers and the contact makes you twitch.  “Fuck,” he sighs when your loins are pressed up against each other. He makes space to get his cock out and you try not to stare. It’s thick. Suddenly, you’re salivating.  You wet your lips and he notices. 

“Lemme put it here, first,” he says softly and rubs your cunt. “Okay?” He nods for you as he positions you over his cock and notches himself for entry. He’s waiting for your go-ahead like it means something. You offer an almost imperceptible nod, then he pulls you down hard on his cock with a groan.  You gasp as his girth parts your walls.  

“Then—ohhh—then ya can suck it,” he says. He lifts his hips.  “Maybe.” He moves you on his cock. “Shit this feels good.” He holds you close and wraps an arm around you. He moves his hips forward from the wall with a sharp thrust up into you. He gets enough space to lean back a little and pull you against his chest for leverage, with enough clearance to fuck up into you. “Yeah, ohh shit.”  As your body adjusts to his girth, your eyes close in pleasure.  His thrusts are sharp and deep.  He’s strong, so strong the way he holds you. Tension knots in your gut as his girth fills you up over and over. 

“Ride it, baby. C’mere.” He sits back down flatter against the wall again and manhandles you on his cock. “C’mon, baby.” You might as well get something out of it, so you move your hips and get close enough to him to grind your clit into his pelvis. “Aww, yeah,” he breathes, “Yeahh, like that.” He reaches for your head. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he whispers, then pulls your face into his again.  His hips rock in rhythm with yours as he fills your mouth with his tongue. 

You accidentally hum “Mmm” into his mouth. 

He breaks the kiss to say “oh you like it, huh,” pounding into you a little harder. “You like this big cock.”  Each time he fills you, you’re less and less ready for this to end. “That’s good,” he rubs his nose against your temple. “gonna get a lot of it.” He holds the back of your head and reads your eyes in the dim lamp light then kisses you again. You break the kiss with a moan, feeling yourself on the edge. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Shit yeah,” He puts both his hands on your ass and moves you on his cock, determined to fill you with every smidgen of him. 

You whimper at the stretch, the sheer fullness. 

“You’re there,” he says. “C’mon, baby,” his thick cock sliding in and out of you, stretching you, filling you like you thought you might never be filled, “C’mon, angel. C’mon.”  The tension snaps and you groan as your cunt spasms around his cock. “Ohhh, yeahhh, yeahhh,” Tommy says, “shit, yeah.” Your body jerks into his. “Fuckin’ beautiful."

He slows you down and sucks in a deep breath as you keep spasming. “Shit,” he sighs. He stops moving and tries to compose himself. He’s trying not to come. He pulls you off before you’re finished coming. You look at him and he’s biting his lip, his eyes are smiling,  his hand is wrapped around his cock. “Now suck it for me.” He reaches up and his huge hand engulfs the back of your head. “Now,” he says more urgently.  He pulls down and you oblige, reeling in aftershocks and shame. 

You take his tip in your mouth and his hips lift as you suck it.  He forces your head down on his cock and you gag on it. “Ohh, shit.” He pulls your head down harder then explodes against the back of your throat with a long, drawn out sigh of relief.  His hot spend paints the back of your throat.  You swallow it then let him slide out of your mouth. 

—--

Tommy catches his breath for a moment, then puts his dick away and gets up to put on his pants.  It feels abrupt, but you’re not sure what you expected.  Surely not pillow talk. He towers over you as he zips up.  You look up at him and he tilts his head, looking at you affectionately.  Then his face changes. 

“Dumb slut.” 

Your stomach drops as he walks away. 

-------

--------

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! You can follow @toxicfics and turn on notifications for updates.

Joel and Tommy are not in touch. When they cross paths it will have been a long time since they saw each other.

This reader will be Tommy's and he'll gain some power in the group.

[bonefall]

Cat? Gray. Eyes? Blue. Hotel? Trevago.

Design babble stuff below

BLUESTAR

Good god it's been over a year since I last drew her. I can do so much better now

I give her a wolf motif for BB, because in my mind it's about the myth of the lone wolf. Lone wolves aren't normal, they're pack animals. At first, Firestar sees her as this ideal, strong leader who stands independently of everything... but he's wrong!

She's NEVER acted fully alone! She's always been devoted to her family, even as it dwindled. Her ruling style is to protect other Clans, unlike any leader who's come before her. In BB, she even had a mixed-Clan friendgroup called the Forget-Me-Nots.

She helped to depose ShadowClan's tyrant. She sent Firestar to fetch WindClan, even against the wishes of the other two. She even fought Nightstar and Crookedstar when they tried to drive them out again.

She even takes the code SO seriously that she refused to kill Brokentail, extending a mercy that ended up backfiring.

And Firestar learns everything about leadership from her. Grace, diplomacy, fairness... and she was fair to a fault.

Both her and her apprentice would eventually face down Tigerkin, Bluestar during the coup and Firestar even lost a life after defending Hawkfrost for several books.

The only time Bluestar ever became a "lone wolf" was in her cruelty arc, when she was dragging everything she ever stood for down with her.

Her wolf motif shows up in her entire family, to connect them. It's in her nephew Whitestorm, her uncle Goosefeather, her daughter Mistystar, even all the way down into Curlfeather and Frostpaw who are descended from Reedwhisker in BB.

The scar comes from her fighting a badger to rescue Darkstripe and his sister, Cricketclaw, when they wandered off as kittens.

CROWFEATHER

He's a mix of spiky and swirly, as a cross between his dad Deadfoot and his mother Ashfoot.

He's older in BB to change that he was an apprentice on the Great Journey, and also to fix an inconsistency where his dad would be dead when he was conceived.

I think it was a huge missed opportunity that Crowfeather's bond to his mentor, Mudclaw, is barely mentioned in-canon. In BB they were VERY close and Mudclaw was incredibly influential to his personality.

Deadfoot is dead-- Mudclaw was like a father to him.

Crowfeather is torn between the influence of his mother, who was a Forget-Me-Not in her youth, and the hard ideology of his mentor. All the while, the ego boost he got from being selected to go on the Great Journey massively affected him, in a bad way.

He ended up taking Mudclaw's side in the rebellion-- not because he believed that ThunderClan had told a lie (in fact he defends his friend's honor) but because he believed Mudclaw would be a better leader.

But eventually, he found himself surrounded by cats he didn't want anywhere near WindClan. Good intentions or not, Mudclaw was willing to work with cats like Blackclaw and Hawkfrost-- people who want a second TigerClan.

Crowfeather betrayed the rebellion, running to fetch Brambleclaw and ThunderClan reinforcements. In the fight, his nose was scratched in a chevron, the shape of Mudclaw's stripes.

I like the idea that he carries it with him, but always tries to put it off his mind. He mistreats and misuses other people, ignoring the reminder that he is a fallible person that's carved onto his nose.

died of infection. Sad!

All of his kits resemble him in some way. Lionblaze inherited his tail, Hollyleaf has the spikes, Breezepelt has the build, Jayfeather is a miserable git has the ear swirls

He was head of Kitchen Patrol until BB!OotS, but I'm actually planning for him to NOT be deputy in BB. His character growth feels a lot more satisfying in realizing he really doesn't handle power very well, and should stay away from it.

He has old relationships and burned bridges to mend, and staying part of Kitchen Patrol seems like the way he should plan to do that.

I talked about him a lot in Nightcloud's summary and he's going to be coming up in the outline of Nightcloud's Pannage a lot. Much as I love taking potshots at him, he's got a very kind arc laid out.

CINDERPELT

She is the daughter of LIONHEART whY don't you people give her A MANEEEE

let her be THICK

In BB, the Frostfour are actually from two different litters. Cinderpelt and Brackenfur were in the older one.

Frostfur was head of Kitchen Patrol at the time, and very overworked lmao

So Cinder and Bracken both have an "older sibling" energy. Their mom was usually involving them in every little activity to get some help. Brackenfur is over-responsible, and Cinderpelt was always trying to help out other people and prove herself.

Of course, it also lead to her running right into Tigerclaw's trap which was set for Bluestar-- she wanted to be helpful.

The injury didn't heal right and she has chronic pain. She has severe mobility issues in the hip, and usually keeps the leg bound to her body so it doesn't drag or hurt.

She could have still been a warrior if she wanted to, but discovered while healing that she loved working with Yellowfang. I also interpret it this way in canon, to be fair, but TNP decided to remember it completely differently.

After saving Littlecloud's life they became absolute best friends. They worked on a mobility device for Wildfur together.

They style their manes in a similar way, pushing it up into that "spike" on their heads and out of their faces.

ASHFUR

Moonkitti's blonde Ashfur remains iconic, I fear

I draw him like a cheetah so he has the funky cheetah cub hair

I'm a HUGE fan of what the Erins did with the direction of Ashfur's story, with him being an obsessive spurned lover, but that's not really the sort of story I tell in BB!

So I approach his obsession on Squirrelflight as being very... Judge Frollo-esque.

Frollo's ultimate goal isn't to possess Esmerelda. He wants her, but it's a wrench in his plans to commit ethnic cleansing using his religious justifications. Hellfire is about how he finds a way to shift the blame for his own lust onto her, and offers an ultimatum; "She will be mine or she will burn (along with everyone else I plan to slaughter)"

In Frollo's mind, he "forgives" her for what she's "done to him." For what she is. He sees what he's doing as giving her an "escape."

It's not for her benefit. It's for HIS. By giving her this "escape," if she takes it, he gets to think of her as redeeming herself (and thus being worthy of him).

If she does not... then it's no skin off his back. He's Done His Part. Everything was always her fault. He is blameless.

Either way he gets to walk away feeling justified.

All that to say-- that's how I approach BB!Ashfur.

He wants to punish codebreakers. He wants the Clans to suffer for how far they've fallen from where they should be. They've become vulgar, ungrateful, unworthy of StarClan's grace.

He tried to kill The Three because he'd learned of the Fire and Tiger prophecy, and was only trying to protect the Clan. If Squirrelflight had CHOSEN HIM, then none of this would have happened.

He was righting a wrong, you see, and StarClan understood, in his eyes.

When Hollyleaf slaughtered him, violating the Code, it only confirmed he had been right all along.

And again and again and again, he offers Squirrelflight what she needs to redeem herself. He wants her. He wants her to "be better."

When she lets him down... then it's not his fault. She's forced his paw.

SO the blonde hair isn't totally just a fun reference, I also find it fitting because aside from the cheetah motif, he sees himself as angelic.

It's also why I don't portray him as "grubby" like some folks do, BB!Ashfur is much more vain than Canon!Ashfur, caring immensely about his appearance. Thinking about it, he probably won't even let his Bramblefake vessel fall into disrepair, he'd feel more grossed out than usual.

He also gets a very cool boss fight form at the end of BB!TBC which I still need to design lmao.

[strangelittlestories]

“What entertainment do you bring before me today?” Squawked Augustine, the king of the birds. “Have the mockingbird players returned from their tour of the provinces? Or maybe that prattling parrot will reprise its human impressions?”

“Alas, milord.” Replied the king’s seneschal, a somewhat fussy flamingo. “You had the parrot killed for excessive repetitions and hesitations.”

“So I did!” The king spread his majestic tail feathers proudly, reliving the happy fuzz of murder. “Well, they knew the rules. Or, at least, *I* knew the rules and they probably should have inferred them.”

“One can never argue with your execution of the law.” Said the long-suffering seneschal, keenly aware that the wrong answer could result in his suffering moving from *long* to *short*. “Or with the law of your executions, for that matter…”

“Speaking of executions,” Said the king, whose mind was never truly far from state-sanctioned violence, “Do we have any on the docket for today?”

“Your majesty, I’m afraid the dungeons are quite empty.”

“What, no traitors left?”

“No, sire.”

“No criminals of any kind? No thieves or fraudsters or comedians who are overly reliant on props?”

“All thoroughly and legally murked, milord.”

“Well, I suppose send in my jester, then. I’m so dreadfully bored.”

At this command, the jester fluttered into the room, wearing a jaunty cap made out of a McDonald’s wrapper with a small lost key jangling from it in place of a bell.

The king and seneschal looked at the jester - the air was heavy with the potential for further royal atrocities. The seneschal crossed his talons.

“Coo.” Said the pigeon jester, hilariously.

A pause. A silence.

“Coo.” Said the pigeon jester again, making unblinking eye contact with the king.

The silence stretched on further. (Surely it could not keep on stretching or it would pull something…)

“Coo.” Said the pigeon jester, tragically.

And at this, the king finally burst into laughter. Uproarious, over-the-top, gut-busting laughter.

Which was just the distraction the seneschal needed. The elaborate flamingo costume was abandoned; the false wooden legs clattered to the floor and the fake neck - a painted length of hose pipe - flopped grotesquely back and forth.

From the costume burst forth a small army of truly tiny owls, which set about tying up the king while he was still prostrate from the laughter.

“What is the meaning of this?” Wailed the king.

“Coup.” Said the pigeon jester, accurately.

“Your reign of terror is at an end, vile tyrant!” Chirped an Elf Owl, puffing up its chest. “Revolution is here and your foul murderous regime will fall. In its place will rise a majestic and fair government! Vive la republic of feathers!”

“This is a conspiracy!” Cried the king.

“No,” Said the Elf Owl. “A conspiracy is ravens.”

“Owls are…” It donned a tiny pair of sunglasses. “...a Parliament.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 40

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Feel very off today IDK.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Please, please,” you puff, reaching between your legs, “please, I can’t–”

Your words are wobbly and loose, your legs too. As you touch Loki’s chin, you feel the slickness smeared across it. He only nuzzles further into you as your thighs twitch around him. You choke and beg through your shallow breaths.

He hums into you, reaching around to snatch your hand, pulling your arm behind your back. You whimper, wavering on your feet. Before you can lose your balance, he takes your other hand, guiding it alongside your other, locking both against your lower back.

He moans as he drinks you up. You put your feet flat and shake as another wave crashes down on you, the water slakes over you, the humid air adding to the sweat beading over your skin. You cum again and again and again. Each time, he grows more devoted to his task, twining your nerves together until you’re wrought.

Your leg buckles and gives. He releases your hands, once more grabbing you by the hips and holds you up. He eases you down slowly as you shake weakly. Lower and lower, he keeps your ass in the air as you drop down on your hands and knees. You’re senseless and lost in the ravages of pleasure.

When you come again, all your strength drains from you. You can’t take anymore. He lets you go as you collapse onto the porcelain and groan. He drags his hands down your legs as you roll onto your side and heave. He snickers and traces up your arm.

“You’ve been very good, pet,” he growls and stands, stepping over you as he pushes the door open.

He leaves you there, the door open as the shower continues to pour down on you. You catch your breath but can’t move, not right away. You’re so very tired. Worn out by more than his unprecedented attention but by everything. The day seeps back into your mind and coils your muscles tight.

You get one knee under you, then the other. You climb to your feet and shut the faucet off. You emerge and stumble, reaching for a towel from the rack. You wrap yourself in the fluffy cotton and look at the open door. You hobble towards it, finding Loki… Mr. Laufeyson in your bed. He stretches out, his arms bent behind his head, as his nakedness is concealed only by the blanket folded at his waist.

You turn off the bathroom light and cross to the bed. You flinch as you sit, swollen and oversensitive. You dry yourself off stiffly and stare at the wall. The glow slowly fades and you’re left dull and worn. That’s all this will ever be. You have your use and when he doesn’t need you, you are just there.

You stand and drape the towel over the wooden arm of the sofa. You look around, searching. You pad along to the closet and fold the door back. There’s your stuff. You fish out a night gown and return to the bed. You wonder why he’s still there.

“I’ll stay,” he reaches to rub the silk between his fingers, “in case… my brother thinks to attempt another coup.”

“Oh, thanks,” you utter, refusing to look at him. “Would you like the light off?”

He takes a breath, “ah, I should’ve brought a book. You always do enjoy it when I read to you.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “the light?”

“Off, is fine,” he replies evenly.

You flip off the lamp and lower yourself down. You keep your back to him, hand clinging to the edge of the mattress as you fight to keep your breath steady. You just want to cry. You feel so heavy but flat. As if you’ve been run over.

“Pet…” he says gently. You don’t answer as you stay as you are, right at the very edge, making yourself as small as possible. “Suppose you are tired…” he mulls quietly, “yes, you should rest.” He flutters his fingers against your waist, “as should I.”

He shifts behind you and brings himself closer, looping his arm around your stomach. He urges you back, putting you flush to him as you grasp slips from the mattress. He nuzzles your crown and his hot breath fans across your scalp. He sighs and embraces you tighter.

“I’m certain I did little to lessen your fatigue,” he snickers, “though I don’t think you will complain. Surely, you didn't sound unhappy at all.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you agree.

You feel him tense and he puffs a longer breath into your hair. He slackens his hold on you but doesn’t draw away. He hums, “sweet dreams, pet.”

✨

You sway between bouts of dull sleep that makes your head ache and hollow restlessness that has you squirming against the body behind you. Mr. Laufeyson sleeps undisturbed by your fidgeting, much to your relief. That last thing you need is him waking up unhappy.

When at last he wakes, he does not free you. He pushes you onto your back and covers your mouth with his. He kisses you until you can’t breathe and when he pulls away, he gazes down at you. You just look back at him emptily. He frames your chin and tries again. This time, your cheeks dimple as you attempt a smile.

He recoils and sits up, putting his back to you. You think he’s displeased but you can’t tell. He can seem so when he’s thinking. What could he be agitated by anyway? You’ve only let him do what he wants.

He’s silent as he rises and dresses. You do the same, picking a plum skirt and a white blouse. You sit to pull on your stockings and catch Mr. Laufeyson watching you. His eyes crawl up from your leg to your face. He quickly turns away.

“I have some calls to make,” he takes his phone from the side table and brusquely marches to the doors.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you confirm.

He stops, his hand on the door handle and his head tilts. He seems about to say something before he rips the door back. He swallows loudly before he finds his voice, “my mother should have breakfast ready, you may join her.”

He leaves and the door closes a bit too harsh for your comfort. What now? What have you done? And what calls does he need to make? Perhaps he got one. Maybe she… No, don’t think about that. It doesn’t matter.

You go to check your reflection and tidy up. You peer around the room. You can’t stay in here. It just reminds you of last night and all your confusing thoughts. Not just thoughts, feelings.

You let yourself out and look up and down the hall. You go downstairs and wade through the quiet morning lull. Gertrude is in the kitchen chopping fruit with a large knife. You don’t know what to do, you think you’re too early.

A figure startles you as its shadow darkens over your shoulder. You shuffle aside and turn to face Odin as he enters, an empty cup in his hand. Gertrude comes forward to take it from him with a “good morning, sir.”

“Ah, there she is,” he greets you, “have you had a coffee? Tea?”

You shake your head, “no, but I…” You don’t want one. You don’t want anything but to be alone. You turn our head to look out the window at the rustling leaves brushing against the pane.

“I always found the morning air did me more good than caffeine,” Odin says, “would you like to see the gardens?”

“Sir, I–”

“Please, enough of that,” he waves away the formality, “you would do me a favour. It isn’t often I have someone to walk with me.”

You look at him and bite your lip, “of course.”

“Wonderful,” he proclaims and waves you ahead of him. You go around to the back entry way and stop by the door. You look at the mat then around. You don’t have any shoes.

“Ah, these will do,” he bends and pulls out a pair of plaid gray slippers, “a bit big but we can go slow.”

He turns them towards you and stands, waiting for you to step into them. He has a pair of leather shoes already on his feet. You thank him quietly as you slide your feet in. He opens the door for you, again letting you take the lead.

He points you across the veranda and offers his hand for you to descend the steps onto the stone path. You take each stair carefully, not wanting to lose the overly big slippers. As you get to the bottom, he rescinds his hand and offers an arm instead. You hook yours through his and let him guide you.

You quickly lose yourself in the scenery and your worries. The green leaves, the creeping vines, the fluttering petals. It’s all so beautiful. You don’t belong there.

You lower your head, as if just looking upon it all is a crime. You should be at home with your father. A pang jabs deep between your ribs as you think of him. You haven’t even called. You’ve barely given him a single thought. You must be as selfish as he always accused you.

You keep your feet moving in tandem with Odin’s but pay little attention to your path. He slows and stops you as a trickling plucks in the air. You peek up and see a large plinth with water flowing down the sides. A wonderful fountain in the midst of a square basin dug into the earth.

“I come here to think. Or not to,” he explains, gesturing you towards a carved wooden bench. You sidle along and sit and he lowers himself with you, his arm still entwined with yours. “I can see you are in need of both.”

You shake your head and focus on the flowing water. Your cheeks pinch and your lips tauten across your teeth. You can’t cry. Not in front of him.

“You are homesick?” He asks gently as he pats your arm with his free hand.

You nod.

“It is only human. I remember…” he leans against you, “when I was young, if ever I truly was, and I went away from home for school. I was so very excited. My whole life I’d been sheltered, eh. My mother had me close all the time. I went to a private school with walls that shut out the world. And after the years of what felt like a prison, I couldn’t wait to be away, to be free.

“And my first day alone, sitting in my dorm, so proud of the Hendrix poster on my wall, I broke down. I bawled for hours. I couldn’t stop. I’d never ever cried like that. But I went down to the RA and asked to use the phone. I called my mother and…” he snaps his fingers, “in an instant, no tears. And even when she hung up, I was alright, because I knew I could always call her back.”

You sniff, your eyes stinging. He doesn’t know you can’t call your father. You don’t want him to know that.

“You went to college?” You ask.

“Mm, yes, wasted a bit too much time there,” he sighs, “but you won’t fool me, girl. Who do you miss so much?”

You shrug and hang your head. You don’t even know if you really miss your father. You know he doesn’t miss you. All you know is he’s sick and you’re hear, sitting in this splendour, buying new dresses, and eating fine cheeses.

“My father…” you croak.

“Ah fathers, they are… complicated.”

You nod and gulp tightly. You lift your head and peek over at him, “he hates me.”

The words strangle you once they’re out. There it is. The truth. There’s no taking it back. 

It only took you thirty years to figure it out. You never had anything to compare it too but seeing Frigga dote on her children, just her asking you how you are, sparked the revelation. Then there was the other side, the dejection, the constant reminders that you are only good for what you can give, not what you are. That’s the only way your father ever treated you.

“I’m certain he doesn’t,” Odin coos gently.

“No, he does,” your lip downturns and tugs on your cheeks, “I always knew it but I wanted so desperately for him to love me that I… I told myself… that he did or that he could.”

You tear your arm free and stand. You hide your face as you try to smother the sudden eruption of sobs. What is wrong with you? You sweep away, facing the foliage at the other end of the fountain and heave, shoulders shaking.

“I’m so sorry,” you whimper. “I shouldn’t–”

“Do not apologise. I won’t accept it,” he insists as he rises and hovers close to you, “you’ve nothing to be sorry for. How you feel is not an offence.”

“I don’t want to go home,” you turn to him, “I want to disappear.”

His eyes sparkle and his features soften, “dear…”

“No, I do. I don’t want to be here or anywhere. I don’t belong. Not here, not there, not on this planet.”

“Oh my,” he puts his hands gently on your shoulders and angles you towards him, “you feel that way, but feelings are not always true.”

“It’s true. I’m… I’m just a maid. I’m not… I’m not…”

“You are exactly where you should be,” he says, “you are here with me.” He pulls you against him, trapping you in his arms. He brings a hand to the back of your head and cradles it, pressing your cheek to his shoulder. He rocks you gently, “you are safe and you are wanted.” He pets your hair as he holds you, “you are worthy.”

You bring your arms around, clinging to him, clinging to safety. You bury your face in the soft fabric of his shirt and weep. You weep until you're dizzy and raw and spent. And when you’re drained, you don’t let go. You can’t. 

You just want to stay here with the birds and the insects and the rippling fountain. You want to hide away in this menagerie and never come out. Yet you know you must. Not right now, not just yet. But eventually, you have to tuck it all away again and face the world.

For now, you’ll just let him hold you.