#if you act like it was good then you’re plain wrong.

[lichtecht]

im seriously developing such a superiority complex over random film critics wo talk about dfk 2023. i’m starting to think i’m the only one who can accurately judge this movie

it is crucial for this discussion to understand that „Das fliegende Klassenzimmer“ (2023) was not a good movie. if you act like it was then you’re wrong

[luveline]

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡ 

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago. 

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch. 

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you. 

“I wanna see Max.” 

“She has to be here somewhere.” 

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest. 

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here. 

Steve frowns at you worriedly. 

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers. 

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips. 

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Is it awful?” you ask. 

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult. 

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask. 

“Dustin. He’s outside.” 

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.” 

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes. 

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?” 

“Like you like him.” 

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?” 

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?” 

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings. 

“Looks like something. Are you dating?” 

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.” 

“He was touching you a lot.” 

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely. 

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh. 

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s— 

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder. 

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug. 

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly. 

Oh, boy, you think. 

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy. 

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet. 

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.” 

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.” 

“Steve.” 

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.” 

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty. 

“What?” he asks. 

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles 

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” 

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.” 

“I sounded weird?” 

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.” 

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it. 

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do. 

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.” 

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.” 

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something. 

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie? 

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged. 

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews. 

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way. 

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused. 

“You were in the way of the light.” 

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself. 

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?” 

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks. 

“It’s good.” 

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.” 

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you. 

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise! 

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this. 

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing. 

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs. 

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes. 

“You okay?” he whispers. 

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek. 

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen. 

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say. 

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.” 

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.” 

“I thought…” And of course he did. 

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.” 

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.” 

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes. 

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.” 

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.” 

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.” 

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks. 

“I like you too!” he says loudly. 

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?” 

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again. 

“You okay?” he asks tightly. 

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?” 

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.” 

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?” 

You nod vehemently. 

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm. 

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.” 

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you. 

“You can be my parasol.” 

“Your what?” 

“It’s a sun umbrella.” 

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up. 

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay. 

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur. 

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?” 

“That’s perfect.” 

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly. 

“No… I’m thinking.” 

“Nothing good ever comes of that.” 

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight. 

“It’s a question.” 

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world. 

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.” 

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.” 

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.” 

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start. 

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem. 

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur. 

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it. 

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke. 

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

[blue-jisungs]

soft-hearted jealousy

#author's note ... i love wonwoo so fucking much did i ever guys tell u that. anywho this one is for zanzan bc i got inspired when we watched the kode ep <//3 and big big biiiig shout out to my beloved @l3visbby for proofreading <3 love u mother

#summary ... you're a little jealous of wonwoo n kerias frienship<//3

#word count ... 986

pssst the fic is referencing this cute vid:( wonwoo looked so good in it btw like what the actual fuck. also keria is my height and i fainted when i saw them hug bye

the door opened with a soft click and then all you could hear was soft patting of wonwoo’s footsteps against the wooden floor. 

sighing, you switched youtube to instagram and tried to act unbothered. but how could you? a reel of a new video featuring your fiancé popped out. a video you have just watched and it made you… a little jealous. 

“bedroom?” wonwoo called, trying to locate you. 

“yea” you hummed back, loudly enough for him to hear you. scrolling down, you noticed another reel. 

the love of your life with a cute, gamer boy. 

puffing your cheeks, you decided to exit instagram as well and check if you had any mails or texts. 

wonwoo entered the room, a small crease between his brows. 

“is everything alright, darling?” he asked, voice smooth as honey. which pissed you off even more. how dares he sound so attractive when you’re mad at him? 

“yes” you grunted a little too sulkily, drawing his attention. 

“oh really? because you didn’t run up to me once i entered the house” wonwoo teased and walked up to the bed, stretching his arms. you lost the battle with yourself and watched him, biting the inside of your cheek. how could one look so good in a plain white t-shirt and jeans? 

“yeah, im fine. how was your day?” you sighed and looked away once you saw he noticed your gaze. with a small smirk, he laid down next to you. the mattress dipped under his weight but that restored the balance – it somehow felt empty when he wasn’t there before. 

“it was good. me and mingyu did a live… i talked to my new friend… we might play a bit today” he answered, eyes tracing your face “oh, the video is out! did you see it?”

you hated how excited he was. and how much you liked it. keria is… 

“cute. i liked it” you mumbled and turned his back to him, fighting a smile. this is ridiculous. 

but it’s just not fair that wonwoo looked so handsome in that video and threw some flirty comments. he was so cocky in it too… 

“cute? yeah, keria is so adorable” wonwoo chuckled and you looked at him through your arm, shooting him a glare “what? what is it?” 

“nothing” you grunted. wonwoo’s lips broke into a grin, finally figuring you out. 

“something is clearly wrong. come on, talk to me” he purred, his hand sneaking its way under your t-shirt. 

“you looked good in the vid” grunting, you tried to surpass a smile. the warmth of his skin on yours sent shivers down your spine but your tried to remain calm. and not fold. 

“really? thank you, darling. keria said he liked my jacket” your fiancé hummed and leaned a bit closer, fingers tapping gently against your ribs. 

you couldn’t control the huff that left your lips. 

“we got along really well, i like his company. he’s so sweet” wonwoo continued to tease you and apparently that did the trick. 

“if he’s so sweet why don’t you date him, hm?” murmuring, you tried to hide your face in the pillow. wonwoo’s fingers ghosting over your skin in a circular motion made you melt, making it impossible not to crack.

“oh?” 

“forget it. go play your stupid games” you scoffed and wanted to move further away from him but wonwoo was quicker. he pulled you closer, calloused hands resting on your hips. 

“are you, perhaps… and i might be wrong here… jealous?” wonwoo’s cat-like adorned his features and you turned around, finally facing him. ebony eyes looking at you with amusement but also love, so much love, in them.

“yes, you’re wrong” you finally broke and cracked a smile, poking his buff chest. wonwoo tenderly grabbed your hand, placing it flat against his chest. his heartbeat softly drummed beneath your palm, making heat rise to your cheeks.

“come on, you know i would never…” he started and you shook your head. 

“it’s stupid and not that serious” you whined, covering your face with your other hand “it’s not the way you were… so flirty… and charming…”

“oh, pretty” wonwoo laughed wholeheartedly, the warm sound of his laughter bouncing off the walls of your shared bedroom. 

you leaned closer and hid your face in his chest, the smell of cologne filling your nostrils. his tender hands moved to the back of your neck, massaging it gently. 

“i made my angel jealous… by talking to my friend?” wonwoo sighed dramatically and you could hear the smile blooming on his lips. 

“it wasn’t just talking! you were so flirty…” your voice was a bit muffled by the material of his t-shirt “or i just… don’t know. you were really something that day, you know? so what if i’m a little jealous, i just don’t want to share you with the world… that much” 

wonwoo’s heart skipped a beat and he observed how you raised your head up. eyes meeting his, cheeks dusted with pink. you were so cute like that… cuter than keria. 

“can i make it up to you?” he hummed, hands trailing to cup your face. 

“a kiss. and no flirting with others, even if it’s a cute guy” you pouted and wonwoo leaned, capturing your soft lips in a sweet kiss. 

before you had a chance to deepen the kiss, he leaned away with a small frown. 

“but you do admit he’s cute, right?” your fiancé asked and you smacked his chest lightly.

“i wish we could adopt him” you laughed, and a grin formed on wonwoo’s face. 

“i’m afraid he’s a little too old for that…'' hiding his face in your hair, you decided to wrap your arms around his waist. 

“he’s 21… still a baby…” you huffed and shortly after, the sound of your laughs mixed in harmony. you guessed you might forgive him, it wasn’t really serious in the first place. 

masterlist <3

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @mon2sunjinsuver,, @eternalgyu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,,@mine-gyu ,, @nonononranghaee

[lunarduty]

𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙀𝙔𝙀𝙎 𝘼𝙎 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝘿 𝘼𝙎 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙀

☾ definition: dacryphilia refers to sexual pleasure or arousal from seeing tears or hearing the sounds of crying. 141 + ALEJANDRO + RUDY + GRAVES X F!READER TAGS | nsfw, smut, crying, mention of a safe word, f!dom, overstimulation, orgasm denial WC | 3,099

JOHN PRICE

… sees you cry and praises.

if john could see your eyes right now, he’d tell you not to be embarrassed. would probably coo at you like a prized horse. ask you what was wrong, and if there was anything he could do to help.

problem was, you weren’t sure what it was you were crying over - the bite of wood against your skin, or john’s tongue between your thighs.

both were agonizing in their own ways. both BURNED with something that hurt too good to admit. both demanded your attention, but as always, john eventually won the fight for it. the tiny little scrapes and bumps caused by the old wood of his desk had started to numb when the tears came. john’s fingers pushing into your cunt acted as a sort of balm. you couldn’t feel anything but him.

his broad shoulders had kept your legs spread for far too long at this point, so they eventually began to ache too. they tremble and quake around john’s shoulders. you know he feels it, and thinks it’s because of his tongue and fingers.

he’s not far from the truth.

and just as soon as john’s eyes shoot up, you’re throwing your head back. eyes squeezing shut, shuddering breath disguised behind a moan, hoping to just cum on his mouth and he doesn’t have to know he caused the tears that seem to burn your eyes. he’s kept you on the edge for so long, it wouldn’t be hard to simply focus on his tongue and let go.

there’s a burn behind your eyelids. more tears form when his fingers curl and his tongue flicks a certain way.

“john,” you breathe out, ending his name with a pant. “it’s… i-”

“look at me, love.”

it was an order. plain and clear. your head snaps up immediately, finding his half-illuminated eyes in the lowlight of his office. dark hair looking raven black, eyes blown up to match - but even then, you see them LIGHT up with amusement. even in shitty lighting, john catches the glimmer of tears. right on the edge of falling down your pretty cheeks - you probably don’t even notice. it only makes him harder.

he laughs in a low rumble. “so fucking pretty, aren’tcha?”

you nod; panting, writhing, crying.

john leans his head in closer, pushing in his fingers as far as they’ll go. “pretty girl gonna cum for me? all sweet and tight around my fingers? keep watching me, love - gonna cum now? yeah, go right ahead, dove. you more than DESERVE it.”

the orgasm hits like a truck when john grinds his tongue against your clit. just before your eyes squeeze shut again, a tear finally breaks free and glides down your cheek - warm and flushed from a climax that he’s sure someone must’ve heard.

john has always promised he’d never make you cry, but this is a damn good exception.

☾

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK

… sees you cry and dotes.

gaz has always gone on and on about how much he wants to keep you separate from his work. to leave all the roughness behind when he’s with you. it was never really a problem until tonight - sweet and gentle and slow to a fault. 

too sweet. too gentle. too slow. 

kyle is careful to keep a STEADY pace - a careful rock of his hips, lightly grinding against yours when he’s pressed in deep, making you feel each and every inch of him before gradually pulling out to do when same thing over again. and you know he doesn’t do things without an express purpose - after extending your orgasm a few times, it’s safe to say that your safety isn’t the top priority for once.

he hasn’t gone much faster than this languid pace. selfishly listening to your stunted breaths and pained whimpers of his name. 

if you ask him to go faster, gaz slows down. if you beg for something harder, he smiles and kisses you and tells you to be patient. 

but what has all this patience gotten you? two incredibly drawn out orgasms that fucking ACHED when they hit and kyle stubbornly keeping his thrusts slow and torturous under his guise of being gentle. it’s all a little too much. too intense. your eyes squeeze shut, face nestled against kyle’s neck, hips shifting up when he buries his cock in to try and grind out another orgasm. 

unfortunately, gaz knows you. knows your movements and knows your sounds - the shortening of your breaths and desperate whimpers and choked moans and… sniffles?

his pulls his head up immediately, eyes narrowing in on the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. and gaz grins - he can’t help against it. his cock pulses when a finger comes up to brush a tear away before it has a chance to fall down your face.

“poor baby,” he coos. if you weren’t so wound up, you might’ve noticed how tight his voice sounds. “it’s alright. doing so well for me. gonna make you cum again, don’t you worry. just hang in there, yeah?” his words are breathed against your lips, and by some miracle, gaz picks up the pace. hips picking up speed, even rocking a little stronger and it isn’t until you heard the slap of skin do you truly realize how SOAKED he got you.

the initial tears were caused by kyle’s torturous pace. a new set follows the old when he finally fucks you properly. gaz doesn’t mind - he likes wiping them away.

☾

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH

… sees you cry and teases.

“why’re you crying, bonnie? did you hurt your feelings or something?”

soap knows you won’t respond. not that you could.

the pace of his thrusts are too rough. too quick. too deep. using all his weight to slam into you again and again, not letting up for a moment. the worst part is, you know he has the stamina to keep going, even if you beg him to slow down. to let you breathe air that doesn’t taste like him.

your nails dig into the skin of soap’s chest as you shake your head. everything ached in a delicious way but it wasn’t your feelings that were hurt. soap moves his hand from his bruising grip on your hips to clasp around your jaw, shifting your head to look him straight on. he wants you looking at him, even through WATERY eyes. 

soap grunts as he shifts into a better position to fuck you in. his hair is mussed from your fingers. skin blotchy and flushed from exertion. he still grins at you. “then why’re you crying? want me to stop? is that it?”

“no!” you cry out - half a moan and half a shout.

a thoughtful hum vibrates against his ribs as soap’s fingers release your jaw, only to come up and wipe away a tear that leaked from the corner of your eye. “ahh, i get it, lass,” he breathes out, continuing his rough thrusts with a deep groan. “you’re cryin’ so pretty ‘cause you like getting fucked so good. am i right? my girl loves getting fucked ‘till she cries?”

you’re silent. eyes falling shut, mouth agape, head tilting back to ignore soap’s teases and just feel the addicting slide of his cock. he slows his thrusts only to grind against your pelvis and it’s such a massive difference in sensation that you nearly cum on the spot. it works to make you cry out his name.

“fuck- johnny!” and you do. so, so prettily.

☾

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

… sees you cry and worries.

simon’s face still hurt - a spot right over his cheekbone, purple and swollen and it aches almost enough to make him forget about how sore the rest of his body is.

it’s easy enough to ignore. it’s not liquor or ibuprofen that dulls the pain. his old methods of healing after a rough mission seem useless in the wake of pressing you back on the couch. it’s the touch of your skin, the smell of your hair, the noises you make that really pull him back together. you’re careful not to tug at him too hard or touch any of his TENDER aches, even when he begs you to.

yeah. it’s easy for simon to forget how close he was to not be here fucking you.

his fingers dig into the armrest of the couch, forcing his throbbing body to move as fast as he wants it to. an impromptu fuck on the couch wasn’t exactly planned tonight - you went on and on about how much you wanted to take care of him. but you’ve been clinging to him all night. never letting him out of your sight. it was just a natural progression and simon sure as shit wasn’t complaining.

“fuck, lovie,” he groans out slowly. if you keep moving your hips like that, he’s not gonna last much longer.

and fuck, simon was so close, he could taste it. feel it building in the base of his spine and how tight his stomach gets and it all makes it a little easier to forgo his aches to simply drive into you again and again. your arms wrap around his torso, brushing against tender ribs - when simon hisses, he’s unsure if it’s the pain or the sudden tightness around his cock when you jolt. simon’s mind goes blank and he’s just so fucking close and…

you make a new noise. unfamiliar to the ones simon has memorized when he’s fucking you. his eyes are HAZY and unfocused when he looks at you, and he didn’t quite know what he expected to find. tears accompanied the sniffle he heard, and your hand comes up to wipe them away in haste.

simon’s hips freeze instantly. “hey, hey, hey. what’s wrong? you okay?”

fuck, did he do something wrong?

to his surprise, you scoff. smiling despite wet cheeks and red eyes and simon blames his impending orgasm for how slow he is to understand. “i’m okay,” you reassure him. when your fingers trail up his spine, simon can barely breathe. “i just love you so much. don’t be so RECKLESS next time, okay?”

your legs tighten their hold around his hips. pulling him closer even when simon wants to pull back and really make sure you’re okay. you don’t allow it, instead grinding up against him at the same pace he’d been fucking you in - still sniffling and wiping a tear away on his arm.

simon swears he’s never cum so hard in his life.

☾

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

… sees you cry and stares.

morning has always been alejandro’s favorite time of day.

pinkish gold sunlight coming in through the window promises a beautiful day that he’ll likely be too busy to truly enjoy but welcomes all the same. alejandro hears the bustle of traffic outside - your place isn’t nearly as nice as his, but it’s closer to base and he’s never been known to waste time with you. alejandro is just a little tempted to rip his gaze away from you to enjoy the sunrise coming over las almas.

but he doesn’t. he never does. you’re just too fucking pretty.

alejandro kills two birds with one stone. pulls you out of bed and leads you over to the window just as the sun paints the clouds a deep gold. it saturates your skin in such a perfect way where alejandro can’t help but to touch it. touch your face, your neck, your shoulders, your back, your stomach, and well, he knows your pussy would look fucking HEAVENLY under the light as well.

“pretty fucking girl,” alejandro groans out. he usually likes watching his cock sink inside of you, but there was something about the glow of your skin pressed against the window that makes him just stare at your face. his thrusts are slow and deep, and your breath fogs up the glass, and you keep tugging your shirt down when alejandro pushes it up because you’re the one who has to face your neighbors every day.

when you came along, he didn’t think there could ever be a more beautiful sight than when you first smiled at him.

you proved him wrong with just a few tears reflecting the sunrise.

alejandro could’ve came right then and there. his hips did a little stutter and he grunted when you let out a little whimper while squeezing your eyes shut and he just watched a tear glide over your cheek. he almost pulls you away from the window to flip you around. fully face him so the glass doesn’t GREEDILY soak up all your tears because he’s fucking you so firmly against it.

“al- alejan- fuck, i’m so…”

“i know, baby. keep looking at me. yeah, lemme see those eyes. fuck…”

he kisses you. has a hand tangled into your hair and twists your neck into a better angle and kisses you to taste the salt on your lips and it’s like a bomb went off. alejandro’s hips pick up their pace and you rock back against him and fog up the glass even more when you shudder on his cock.

he cums with your tears wiping off against his own cheeks and salt on his tongue.

☾

RUDOLFO PARRA

… is the one to cry.

“it’s okay, rudy. doing so good for me. i’m almost there, you don’t have to cry.”

was he crying? fuck, he was. rudy didn’t even notice until you smiled at him fondly, bringing a hand up to brush away a tear that broke past his lashes and threatened to fall down his face. 

rudy waits for the hot flash of embarrassment to hit him, but it never does. maybe it’s because this is you. but it's more likely because he’s so fucking close to cumming, he can’t focus on anything else but you. keeping his hands locked around your hips, strong enough to keep them moving back and forth even when you try to slow them down and draw out his orgasm. 

you hadn’t even notice rudy’s big, wet eyes until you attempted to slow down. keeping a more steady pace in his lap to give your thighs a rest, and yeah, to wind rudy up just a little. he works so hard. he DESERVES to get fucked out of his mind now and then.

maybe you went too far, though. when you try to stall your hips, his hands make sure they keep their pace. his own hips buck up off the bed to get even deeper.

“i know you wanna cum.” it’s difficult to keep your voice steady. to not devolve into harsh pants and groans like he has. “but not before me, okay? make me cum, rudy. fuck, make me cum…”

he huffs - such a large demand for someone so fucked-stupid. rudy is so smart, so capable, and so fucking useless right now that maybe it’s too much to ask of him. so to help him out, you pry his hand off your hip. bring it up to your mouth and slide the whole length of his thumb between your lips, letting it glide across your tongue.

rudy instantly gasps and his hips jolt up. you can feel his cock throb even harder inside of you.

but with his thumb coated in saliva, you bring his hand down to where you meet. rudy takes it from there - give him a task, point him in the right direction, and he’ll complete it. he rubs his thumb in tight, DESPERATE circles while his other hand keep your hips in a deep grinding pace until you cum all over him.

it was good. fucking fantastic. but not your favorite part.

rudy knows he’s finally allowed to cum, and he does. so achingly beautiful in the way his jaw drops open, saliva stringing between his teeth. eyes hazy and wet with damp cheeks and a pink nose and when he groans, his voice is hoarse and choked. 

eventually, when you fall against his chest, all you hear are rudy’s hard panting and his sniffles.

☾

PHILLIP GRAVES

… sees you cry and laughs.

graves can be a real asshole sometimes. sarcastic, arrogant, and you know him well enough to know that he kinda likes it. makes him feel larger than life. untouchable. now is no different.

“c’mon, hun. i wanna hear it. y’can’t cum until i hear you say it.”

your arms are thrown over your face, hiding the way your teeth grit together and your eyes screw shut and how your jaw hangs open to gasp for air whenever graves bullies his cock even deeper with each thrust. and to be honest, you barely heard what he said - it was all just white noise. still, you know what he wants. and you’re a little too PROUD to give in.

there’s silence. graves scoffs and you feel him lean forward to grip your arms in his hands. being ripped away from your face reveals a little tremble of your lips, tiny red splotches on your cheeks, and tears lining your eyes. 

graves laughs as if it isn’t his fault. torturing you and playing with you. resetting the goalpost of what you need to do to cum.

the laugh is deep and GENUINE - the kind you’re treated with in the middle of the night away from his shadows, saved especially for you. the grin that accompanies it isn’t bad either. but the laugh is like a slap to the face (something graves might’ve inflicted if his hands were free - after all, you haven’t said your safe word.)

“my poor baby.” he says it so condescendingly. with a quirk of his brow and tilt of his head. as if he and his cock hadn’t caused the tears. “bet it’s gettin’ painful, huh? bet a good orgasm will make you feel right as rain.”

you slowly nod because god, you need to cum.

so graves hums, still wearing a smirk as he shifts on his knees. you whimper under the movement, spine arching, eyes solely focused on him. “then you gotta ask permission, right? c’mon, hun. sound off for me. i know you can do it,” he encourages while his fingers trail slowly down your body. going straight where you needed him the most.

normally, if you weren’t so wound up, you might’ve gotten smart with him. but as extra initiative, graves bends his spine a little. pushing his cock in just a little deeper and plainly getting off on how you gasp and your eyes finally push out hot, wet tears. 

this has gone on for too long. everything from your pussy down is throbbing.

“shadow 0-1…”

“hearin’ you loud and clear, baby.”

“requesting permission to cum…”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi this is my first time making a request \~•~/

Anyways I recently came to know Jason Todd's middle name is Peter. I started to wonder how all the bat boys would react to being called by their government names.

Thank you :)

Jason

Shits himself when he hears you calling him by his first, middle and last name instead of your sweet nicknames like jay birdie or jay jay, as he quickly learned from a young age that nothing good ever came from someone exclaiming his full name.

He thought that he and Roy may have rough housed a little too much and potentially broke something of yours or something and now you were upset over it.

‘Whatever it was I didn’t do it.’ He’d say almost automatically.

You could be mad at him for bleeding out on the carpet you’ve just cleaned and he’d be stood there holding his wounds like ‘I swear it wasn’t me this time.’

And you’d be like ‘so I’m meant to believe that you’re not currently staining our carpet with blood?’ Jason would look down, see that he was indeed bleeding all over the carpet but still found it within himself to look you dead in the eyes and say, ‘it’s not all mine.’ As if that was going to get him out of any more trouble then he was already in to begin with.

You presume it was the blood loss talking.

Needless to say Jason dreads whenever you call him by his full name, he may be an intimidating man in stature alone and could hand anyone their asses in a fight, but he was a secret softie with you and hated it whenever he got in trouble with you but is adult enough to have a conversation about it and come to a conclusion beneficial for the both of you.

Damian

He’s the least phased out of the boys upon hearing you call his full name, if anything he goes to greet you like you were the one he was annoyed with.

He’d stand in the doorway with his arms crossed as an impatient and unamused look spread across his face.

‘What is it?’ He’d ask as though you were wasting his precious time.

His grandfather often calls him by his full name, so Damian was more use to his full name or even just Damian Wayne being said rather then a sweet pet name. If anything if you had called him by a nickname then he’d be skeptical and slightly on edge as to what it was that you wanted.

At least when your relationship is still fresh that is, later on as the relationship grew serious then Damian might be more accustomed to your nicknames but for the sake of the fic he’s more use to being called forth by his full name.

He doesn’t show any signs of fear or anything like that, just plain annoyance. If anything he calls you by your full name also in retaliation for whenever you did something wrong.

Dick

Would say some stupid shit like ‘that’s not my name’ or ‘who’s Richard Grayson? I only go by Dick, dickie bird, fat ass-‘

He’s the type to look at you as though you’ve said something that went completely over his head, he would much rather that you never call him by his full name ever again and go back to using the cute pet names you’ve chosen for one another.

He acts as though you’ve just talked about another man in his presence. The dramatic twat.

He doesn’t like it at all and will purposefully ignore you until you called him those cute nicknames again and then maybe he’ll talk. Pouts and all.

You’re meant to be in a relationship with him so drop the full name and go back to calling him Dickie bird for his sake. Plz.

[thehighladywrites]

masterlist.

a court of thornes and roses

rhysand

ᜊ Beneath their smiles - your friends turn out to be using you, comfort and hurt

ᜊ Texting Rhysand - smau

ᜊ Sugar daddy Rhysand - big dick daddy rhysand spends cash on you and falls in love, breaking your agreement

ᜊ “Just one more, I know you can do it” - rhys has a massive breeding kink

ᜊ “This isn’t goodbye, this is simply see you later” - ex husband/baby daddy rhysand

ᜊ “I got you, darling…” - Rhys takes care of you on your period

azriel

ᜊ Texting Azriel - smau

ᜊ Texting Azriel pt. 2 - smau

ᜊ Need you so bad baby, please… - ovulation week hits you hard, you need your mate

ᜊ Azzie, I think your mom is super hot… - you meet azriels mother and develop a little crush on her

ᜊ I still remember the third of December, me in your sweater… - angst, just plain angst with a somewhat bittersweet ending

ᜊ “Tell me you’re mine” , “ i’m yours” - you dream that azriel was cheating on you and now you can’t look at him without being annoyed. It’s not really his fault, but still… azriel reassures you, promising that you’re the only one for him.

ᜊ “You can even call me daddy, give you someone to look up to” - sugar daddy azriel spoils you

ᜊ “If it’s so wrong, why does it feel so good?” - azriel is a stalker and pervy guy

ᜊ The sessions masterlist - nerdy azriel x bimbo reader

ᜊ “You were flirting with me?” - you doubt Azriel even likes you since all he does is stare into your soul. Azriel thinks he is very clear when he stares, why do you not understand that he is flirting?

cassian

ᜊ That’s your mother but she’s my wife first… - your kids loose their tempers, cassian reminds them who you are, nsfw, light angst, hurt & comfort

ᜊ The Airhead Chronicles: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 - cassian is mates to a ditzy reader, and he loves her more than anything. How do they function together? - FINISHED

ᜊ “make her squirt on my balmain shirt” - cassian finds out you can squirt

eris vanserra

ᜊ Professor Eris x reader: part 1, part 2, part 2,5, part 3 part 4 part 5 - you hook up with this delicious older man for one fun night to forget your scummy ex, what do you do when the same man turns out to be your new professor? What do you do when that same professor had a dark secret? - ONGOING

ᜊ Vanserra brothers NSFW Alphabet - nsfw, crack, a sprinkle of angst

feyre archeron

ᜊ “let’s settle this catfight in the ring, let’s settle this in bed” - enemies to lovers, smut, angst, jealousy

elain archeron

soon

lucien vanserra

ᜊ Vanserra brothers NSFW Alphabet - nsfw, crack, a sprinkle of angst

acotar men x reader

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, sneaking out to a bar while you’re drunk - smau, multi men, tiny bit nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, using doe eyes on them - nsfw, multi men, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, putting bows on their things - headcanons, multi men, cute asf

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, you being asexual - smau, multi men, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, sassy man apocalypse - smau, multi men, crack

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, being their sneaky link - multi men, nsfw, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, banning them from intimacy - multi men, nsfw, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, meeting your parents - multi men, headcanons, crack, fluff

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, your child catches you in the act - multi men, headcanons, crack, nsfw

multi characters

ᜊ Breaking up with the acotar characters as a prank - smau, multi

ᜊ Texting “ She’s busy “ as a prank with the acotar characters - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, ” I had a really fun time yesterday. Oops wrong person ” - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, creepy man hitting on drunk reader - smau, multi, tiny bit nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, we need to talk - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, sending them nudes/lingerie pics - smau, multi, nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, asking them for hand pics - smau, multi, tiny bit nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, “can i get x’s number?” - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, doing elf on the shelf for your kids - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, random texts - smau, nsfw, multi

ᜊ nsfw visual links for them - multi, smut, nsfw,

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, “where’s my treat?” - multi, nsfw-ish

ᜊ ACOTAR characters using twitter; pt 1 | pt 2 - nsfw, swearing

throne of glass

multi:

ᜊ TOG characters x reader, sending them lingerie pics - smau, multi, suggestiveness

[koqabear]

Just A Taste

♫: 28 Reasons, Seulgi // Sacrifice, Enhypen // Hush, Ari Abdul // Oh my god, (G)I-DLE

“Sometimes, the best things are hidden in plain sight; all you need to do is give in to the chase."

 vampire!soobin x fem!reader

Genre: supernatural au, office au, smut. pwp.

Word count: 9.8k

Warnings (for both the story and smut, it all blends together idk): barely edited. power imbalance oou… soobin’s a little evil and manipulative. And obsessive (severely). They have a bit of a predator/prey relationship idk how to explain it 😭😭 mentions of blood/drinking blood, soobin has like. inhuman strength. dom!soobin, sub!reader, bit of a fear kink? for both of them? dubcon, also scent kink for soobin, pet names, (bunny, bun, pet) humiliation kink ig, manhandling, dacryphilia, biting (whaaat??), implied aphrodisiacs, thigh riding, dumbification, praise, subspace…? multiple orgasms, degrading, strength kink, begging, use of restraints, breast play, fingering, orgasm control, cum eating, finger sucking, pain kink for the mc tbh… brief male masturbation? Soobin is big mwuah, unprotected sex, possessiveness, claiming/mating?, overstimulation, creampie, mc briefly blacks out lol, lmk if i missed anything..

notes: starting october with this absolute banger that was sent in quite a while ago. this story is teetering on the darker side, so please read the warnings carefully before you read!

Soobin, who is alluring and intimidating yet strange all at once— a bit standoffish yet charismatic, a total enigma to his coworkers. There’s something off about him, yet no one can really pinpoint what it is; he’s just too good at acting normal— at acting human. 

Soobin, who immediately takes an interest in his meek and evasive coworker who just transferred into his department, who always seems to be tense and even afraid when he enters the same room— naturally, his curiosity wants him to find out why.

You’re smarter than Soobin gives you credit for; because the moment you stepped into the office for the first time, taking in the new environment and its people, you immediately knew there was something wrong about the head of the department— but, instead of brushing it aside like everyone else, you stood by your gut feelings. 

A terrible choice, really. 

Because after a particularly busy evening for you, you quickly found yourself staying after hours in the office, glued to your chair and zoned out as you finished the countless tasks that were suddenly piled onto you— little did you know, it had all been on purpose. 

From the privacy of his office, Soobin watched you carefully; could it be possible you caught on? Was there a reason you never wanted to be alone with him, never afraid to show the skeptic look in your eyes the moment he tried to be friendly and approach you? It’s not that Soobin hadn’t tried to dissuade your clear distrust in him— but it never worked, and most times he found that it only made things worse for him in the end. 

Normally, he would let it be— so what if you find him strange? Everyone in this office does; though he pretends otherwise, he’s fully aware of the comments they’ve all made of him— yet it never fazes him.

You however, seem to be a completely different case; he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way about a human, never the type to give into his carnal desires unless absolutely necessary— even then, he’s always sure to give his prey mercy before feasting, only taking enough to satiate his hunger. 

Maybe it has to do with the way your heart seems to beat a little faster around him, your eyes stricken with a subconscious fear that sharply contrasts your cold and indifferent attitude toward him, never batting an eye yet trying to hide the way your hands seem to shake when he gets even slightly close. 

Poor little thing— in your attempts to distance yourself from him, you’ve only piqued his interest further. 

Because as Soobin sneaks yet another glance at you, watching your every mannerism with hungry eyes, he’s found himself realizing that your fear is quite addicting.

With one last reassurance that the office is empty, Soobin makes his move. 

You don’t hear his office door open; you don’t hear his footsteps approaching you, don’t even feel his presence as he stands behind you, quietly watching the way your fingers fly across your keyboard in an eager attempt to finish your last task of the day. 

“Shouldn’t you be home by now,” Soobin fights the urge to smile as he watches the way you practically jump out of your seat, twisting around violently to look at him— the way you curl into yourself slightly isn’t lost upon him, “___?”

The way your name rolls off his tongue is dangerous; it’s perfect and addicting, just like the quick beating of your heart and your eyes that widen slightly as you realize who is currently towering over you— you seem unsure of what to say as you stutter your response to him, and Soobin has to resist the urge to coo softly at the way your hands grip onto your seat a bit tighter, your eyes glued to an unknown point behind him as you speak. 

“I’m almost done, I’ll be leaving soon.” you say, biting your lip as you wait anxiously for his response; though you’ve always tried to seem flippant and indifferent in front of him, you can’t control the way your weakness leaks through you as you realize where you are— in the office, alone, cornered. 

A moment passes. Soobin has yet to say anything, and despite your instincts telling you not to, you’re nervous enough to look up at him, trying to gauge his reaction through his expression. 

His eyes lock onto yours immediately. 

You’ve never gotten a good look at his face before; every time he’d walk into the same room as you, you’d make it a point to avoid him entirely— but now, as you really begin to take him in, you realize with a slight dread that he’s incredibly handsome— you think you know why your coworkers were so eager to dismiss any strange behavior from him now. 

“There we go,” he smiles, his plump lips stretching into a smile; his teeth are perfect and shine even under the old lights of the office, and you can feel yourself shrinking slightly as you take in his smile— oddly dangerous, your eyes falling onto his sharp, fang-like teeth that glint at you, the expression more warning than welcoming—  and you will yourself to meet his gaze once more, his eyes scrunching up in a way you would’ve considered endearing— but the way his eyes flash isn’t lost upon you, and you can practically feel your heart stopping at the sight. 

“You’re finally looking at me.”

That wasn’t normal. Normal people can’t do what he just did— they can’t make their pupils glint with the same, sharp crimson that Soobin’s just did, taking in your reaction with a dark desire— no, if it weren’t for the fact that Soobin’s mere presence was already enough to make your hair raise like a frightened cats, you would’ve had half the mind to blame it on your tired brain.

“What was that?” you ask quietly, not trusting your voice to be any louder as you scoot your chair away from him slightly— a horrible choice on your part, leaving you more pressed into the desk and as a result, more trapped.

You think you might have lost your mind as you watch Soobin tilt his head, eyes almost transforming and turning into something more sweet and innocent, round and sparkling under the old office lights as he pouts slightly; a total change from the man seconds before, and you would almost begin to wonder if your mind really was playing tricks on you, if not for the subtle twitch of his lips as he takes in your befuddled expression. 

“What are you hiding,” you say, your voice becoming stern as you finally decide to take a leap of faith; you’ve had enough of cowering in suspicion, beliefs that only grow stronger as you stand, taking in Soobin’s amused expression as he watches your brave front. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, still pretending to be clueless as he takes in your accusatory tone with a raise of his brow.

“You… you’re not normal,” you feel a bit ridiculous the moment you say it out loud, but the way the man before you only begins to smile blatantly spurs you on, “You don’t have to hide from me— I’m not stupid.”

“And what will you do about it?” He asks, and it’s only then that you feel your streak of courage begin to fade; he’s taken slow, deliberate steps toward you, and before you can stop it, he’s got you pressed against the desk— hands on either side of you, arms caging you in as he looms over you dangerously, “Will you tell the others?”

You freeze as he begins to lean towards you— you’ve gone in total panic mode, unsure of what to say or do as you merely stand helpless to him, feeling a primal fear take over you as your poor heart beats harder against your chest— Soobin’s lips are near your ear, the soft huff he lets out in amusement defeating to you. 

Slowly, he begins to lean down lower— you don’t know what his intentions are or what he may do, but all you know is that you can’t remain still any longer— his breath fans across the exposed skin of your neck, and your eyes widen as you feel his teeth graze the sensitive flesh, razor sharp and threatening as he threatens to carve a path down the column of your neck; like instinct, your fists come up to push against his chest, using your full strength to push him away in a rush of adrenaline.

Except, it doesn’t work. 

Soobin remains still. Entirely. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t move an inch, even when you continue to punch at him, even beginning to kick at him when that doesn’t work— still, he remains unfazed, still as stone as you continue to try and get him off you.  

Before you can even process it, his hands fly up to catch your own; his grip is bruising, and you can’t control the pained yelp that escapes you from how tightly he’s got you in his grasp. His strength… is inhuman. Helplessly, you meet his eyes. 

“How cute.”

He smiles, and there they are again— his sharp fangs, his eyes that seem to glow threateningly at you, and his bruising strength that makes you wonder if he’ll shatter your hands— except, this time, it all seems to piece together, your mouth falling open as you begin to conclude the impossible. 

“Your heart might explode at this point,” he mutters indifferently, eyes darting down to your chest that rises and falls with rapid, panicked breaths, “What’s going on in that darling brain of yours? You seem so, so afraid.”

“What…” Your words seem to die on your tongue as you thrash weakly in his grip, attempting one last time to escape before you finally give up, discouraged as you try to continue to seem brave, even if Soobin sees right through it, “What are you…?”

Soobin grins. 

“Now you’re asking the right questions.”

♡♡♡

Your requests to transfer departments have been denied. All of them. 

Not a day has gone by where you feel safe in the office since then. Of course, there’s no way Soobin would do anything— not in such a public setting at least, where he’s vulnerable to exposing his real identity. 

That still didn’t stop you from avoiding him— if anything, your attitude toward him only became more blatant ever since that fateful night— and though you wish you could say it worked out well for you, you know that’s a lie. All it got you was more questions from your coworkers and rumors that stirred up about the two of you— whether it was a secret vendetta or a soured relationship, you think you’ve heard it all. 

“What is it about him that you just don’t like?” they would ask, nosy as ever as you simply tried to laugh it off and deny your behavior— if you told them the truth, what would they even say? How would they react?

“Why… are you telling me this?” you had asked him, sitting back against the desk in order to not fall— your legs were weak and you’re sure they would buckle the moment you tried to stand, eyes teary and giving away your fear as you stared up at Soobin.

“Because,” he laughed, the sound soft and breathy as he looked down at you, his tongue running along the top row of his perfect, razor sharp teeth; the sight was enough to make you shiver. 

“No one will believe you.”

You haven’t allowed yourself near Soobin’s presence since then. Haven’t looked in his direction, haven’t gone near him, always sure to give him a wide berth whenever he’s in the same room as you, eager to show him that you don’t tolerate his presence and that you refuse to acknowledge him, no matter how… terrifying and threatening he might be. 

Throughout the time that has passed since his confession and now, he’s taken every subtle change of yours with great interest— any change of expression, change of behavior, change of feelings, he’s taken note of it all. 

Recently, he’s taken note of your heartbeat. The sound is usually very jarring to him the moment he senses you; always rapid and panicked, even more so once you realize he’s nearby— and he’s found himself searching for the sound more often than not, beginning to seek you out even if you may not realize it. 

Though Soobin has noticed something different these days— at first, he thought he was imagining it, that it was just his deprived brain coming to conclusions that simply weren’t there, but the more he paid attention to it, the more he noticed it. 

Your heartbeat has changed. It was miniscule at first, something so minute and subtle that if Soobin hadn’t spent most of his working hours paying attention to the sound of your heart, he could have missed it. But he didn’t, and the sound only became more and more blatant to him the more time passed. 

Your heartbeat wasn’t the only thing that changed. Slowly, you changed as well. He wasn’t stupid; he wasn’t ignorant to the way you began sneaking glances at him, observing him when you thought he was unaware— but when it comes to you, he pays more attention than he lets on—  and if were to say that he didn’t notice the way you’ve began to study him with a subtle curiosity, that would be a downright lie. 

Soobin finds your act of bravery very cute. 

So, when the news is delivered that you would be presenting the monthly report of the company’s revenue to the higher ups, you think you felt your legs give out on you— Soobin could only watch with amusement from his office as you sat at your desk, a troubled expression on your face and your lips stuck in a pout as you chewed on your bottom lip like a habit— a habit Soobin had come to be jealous of, slowly finding himself craving to be the one to sink his teeth into you. 

Soobin isn’t one to feed whenever a craving arises; he only does it when absolutely necessary, finding perfect victims before he swoops in and takes his fill— always enough to satisfy himself, but never enough to hurt. 

His methods had been enough to have him survive and live a normal life, unlike those who jumped at the chance to fill a simple craving like beasts. So, being around you was both thrilling and dangerous— he found himself unable to control his thoughts the longer he remained around you, wondering what it would be like when he finally got his hands on you, wondering if you’d be willing to submit to him and let him use you as necessary. 

For a second, he even ponders keeping you for himself. 

♡♡♡

It’s late at night when you’re finally forced to present, the timing odd and unfortunate as you were told by your supervisors that “it was the only time that worked best.” The sentence was enough to have you irritated by the time the hour came along, forced to stay in your office long after everyone else had left before you finally made your way towards the presentation room on the top floor. 

It was eerily quiet and empty as you made your way up, save for a janitor here and there or another employee that was finally leaving after their overtime; you had five minutes left before you had to present, and you could feel anxiety building up inside you as you shifted your weight on your uncomfortable heels— you had been wearing the uniform for so long that you couldn’t wait for the second you could go home and change.  

Your heels clicked against the tiles of the floor, your hands gripping tightly onto the papers and laptop in your arms as you took in how many people were in the room; it wasn’t as much as you expected, but their power and positions had been enough to scare you straight as you enter slowly, closing the door behind you with a soft click as you greet them politely.

Your smile falters as you spot Soobin at the end of the meeting table, leaning back against his seat with a bored expression. 

The meeting room feels a lot smaller than it did before; you feel suffocated and on edge as your eyes meet his, feeling stiff as you slowly make your way to the podium. You’re quick to look away, eyes glued to the floor as you clear your throat nervously; even now, you can feel his eyes burning into your skin.

Soobin can feel his desire burning stronger the longer he looks at you; he’s able to take you in properly, no longer able to hide or run away as you push through the presentation, the polite smile you keep on your face professional despite the rapid beating of your heart. Soobin can feel it all— he’s trying so hard to keep his instincts under control, but you make it so difficult as you remain nervous and skittish before him, eyes meeting his as he becomes unable to hold back the smile that spreads on his face. 

You feel oddly cornered; you’re surrounded by people, but it feels like it’s just you and Soobin as you watch him flash you a smile, dangerous and terrifying as you take in the way his sharp teeth manage to stick out, even at a distance— you can’t help but feel as though you need to run away and hide. 

It’s always expected to stay back and wait for everyone to leave after you’ve presented; so that’s exactly what you do, head ducked down as you pretend as though the idle screen of your computer is much more interesting than your supervisors that file out and chat amongst themselves. Biting your lip, you try to ignore the way you can practically feel Soobin’s presence as he comes closer— you’re eerily aware of the way it’s just the two of you now, the heavy door clicking shut after the last person that left. 

Your attempt to ignore him until the very end is almost cute to Soobin. He can’t help but let out a breathy laugh as he watches the way you flinch, figure becoming tense as you take in the way he comes up behind you, looking over your shoulder to see what could possibly be taking up your attention like this. 

“Well done,” Soobin says, his voice smooth as ever as he takes in the way you shiver slightly, “your presentation was quite impressive.”

All you can do is let out a soft thank you, hoping your uninterested tone and closed off posture is enough to shake him off— but of course it’s not, and you’re practically scared to breathe as you hear the man take a step closer to you, your jaw clenching as you feel his head hovering over your shoulder. 

“Is something wrong? You look a little… tense.”

You’re shutting your laptop and ready to exit in the blink of an eye— but before you can even take a step towards the exit, you’re being pulled back, pushed against the podium and shrinking against it as you meet Soobin’s gaze. 

“Please, leave me alone.”

There it is— the look Soobin has desperately been craving, eyes darkening at the way you stare up at him, meekly masked with a brave front as your eyes give away your true emotions; he inhales slowly, and he can practically drown in the way your scent changes at his proximity, the once sweet and alluring smell now intense and intoxicating, the twinge of something new piquing his interest as he finds himself stuck on it, unsure of what it may be. 

“Have I done something wrong? It seems that you didn’t like me from the very start,” Soobin’s act of innocence is far from amusing to you. You’re unsure of what response he could possibly be looking for as he stares at you expectantly, pouty lips and round eyes a contrast to the true identity he revealed to you long ago. 

“You know what it is,” you say, finding yourself unable to make space between you and Soobin as you press yourself further against the podium, “You— you’re not… human. You’re dangerous, I don’t want you near me.”

Your words are enough to have Soobin’s brows raising in surprise— the sudden confrontational tone you’ve taken on is quite surprising, and he finds himself oddly satisfied with the way your heart rate slowly begins to change, your scent going from something more panicked and sharp to something that practically makes Soobin dizzy— he has to hold himself back from getting lost in it as he smiles softly at you. 

“Dangerous?” he repeats, though he doesn’t seem to be offended by the word as he slowly begins to lean in; of course, you lean away in response, but it only gives you so much space before you’re craning your neck back awkwardly, leaving you in a vulnerable position as Soobin eyes it carefully. 

“Have I… done anything… dangerous, to you?” 

Soobin’s voice is barely above a whisper; if you weren’t so focused on his every word, you could have missed it. 

You gulp; Soobin’s eyes flicker down from yours, and you can feel yourself shiver at the realization that he’s staring at your neck. His words ring out in your head again, and you feel yourself tensing from a threat that seems to be hidden behind it all. 

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you...” Your eyes are widening at his confession. There’s an unknown emotion swimming in Soobin’s eyes, and you can feel your hands cramping from how hard you’ve been gripping the edges of the podium behind you. 

His eyes flicker back up.

You can feel yourself get transported back to the lonely day at the office, the scene eerily familiar as you take in the way his pupils become dilated, an intense glow of crimson swimming within as you find yourself unable to look away; the sight is almost alluring, and you realize with a heavy dread that Soobin is holding back— from what exactly, you’re unsure. 

“You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?” he asks softly; you’re brought back to your senses as he leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear as he speaks, the deep rumble of his voice sending shivers through your spine, “I’ve noticed it all— especially the way your heart and body reacts to me now. Was it fun, pretending to hate me?”

Everything is so overwhelming. It feels as though your head is underwater as your mouth parts, unsure of what Soobin is going on about— you practically jump at the feeling of his hand landing on your waist, cold and big as his thumb gently caresses the spot.

“Aren’t you curious, bunny?” he asks, and you don’t realize that your eyes have been shut tight until you feel him pull away, confused by the sudden absence of his presence. 

He seems to be lost in thought; his chest heaves with a deep breath— once, twice, his eyes fluttering shut in concentration— then he sighs, eyes slowly opening and a smile twitching at his mouth, lips slowly being stretched into a grin. He looks at you, at your cowering figure, your pounding heart, and your scent infused with a certain twinge he realizes he’s very familiar with— just, not familiar smelling it from you.

“You’re enjoying this,” your scent is thick and heavy, settling deep into his head and leaving him intoxicated from the realization that you’re aroused, face heating up and expression dropping with horror at his words; it’s no question, especially with the way your lips press together to withhold a weak whimper, “aren’t you?” 

When you push Soobin off this time, he lets you; he stumbles back and watches the way you shake your head frantically, as if that could deny the way the way you have yet to run away, the way your scent only grows tenfold at the way he takes slow, deliberate steps towards you— your face is flushed and your legs tremble pathetically as you step back from him, walking along the long table as he only steps towards you in response. 

“I’m— I’m not, you’re—” you can’t even seem to finish your words, mind blanking and eyes becoming glassy as he realizes that you’re embarrassed; he coos softly at the realization, reaching out teasingly to grab you, laughing heartily at the way you yelp and flinch away— as though he were something you should be guilty of being attracted to, as if the way you were feeling was dangerous. 

And maybe it was. 

“Are you embarrassed?” he coos softly, lips pouting as he looks at you with pity; you’re running out of room, about to go around the table and inevitably make your way back around to the exit— but not if Soobin can help it, eager to not let you out of his clutches this time as he rushes over to you; he’s grabbing your waist and pinning you against the windows of the meeting room in the blink of an eye, taking in the way you squeal in surprise and brace your hands against his chest— your heart is pounding at a harsh pace, a stark contrast to the way you feel nothing at all under your palms that press against the firm muscles of Soobin’s chest.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he sighs, pressing you flush against the windows and watching the way your eyes screw shut, attempting to curl in on yourself as you press your thighs together tightly; the sound of your tights rubbing together is almost deafening to Soobin, and his fingers dig just a bit deeper into the flesh of your hips, as though he were holding himself back.

“It’s normal to feel this way, you know,” he coaxes you softly, whispering soft reassurances as he runs his hands up and down your sides, smoothing the fabric of your clothes and running down your tight mini-skirt; feeling the way your thighs tremble as his fingers skirt along the material that covers it, blunt nails scratching your flesh and pulling the sheer cloth along. 

“You’re so tense, bunny,” he mourns, feeling the way your breath hitches as his hands move— one pressing against the small of your back harshly, the other grabbing at the back of your thigh in attempts to press you closer against him, caging you in entirely; your back is arching and your head is involuntarily tilting back as your neck is bared to him; through wet lashes and wide, doe eyes, you finally look up at him.

“Don’t be scared,” he breathes out, his hand trailing up your thigh, cold palm smoothing the material of your tights, ruthless against the cloth of your skirt as he drags it along— hand hitching on your shirt and tugging it up slightly, your chest rising sharply with the breath you take as he brushes up, up the delicate column of your neck until he’s got your chin in his palm— fingers digging into the plush of your cheeks, forcing you to keep your eyes on him as he smiles— it’s sweet, it’s dark, it’s predatory, and it sends a lick of fire down your body.

“I’ll take good care of you.”

When Soobin begins to lean closer, you don’t flinch away; your mind blanks and your lips part expectantly, pulse still quick and afraid under Soobin’s fingers that press against your neck, just under your jawline— and your eyes flutter shut, delicate lashes decorated with tears that wet your skin, a dark facade that only spurs Soobin on more— he’s finally got you under him, and it’s just as thrilling as he imagined. 

When he kisses you, it’s gentle. He’s treating you like a fragile thing, testing the waters, waiting for you to respond to the way his plush lips press against yours, sighing in content the moment you do; your hands still shake against him though, unsure of what to do with them, only making Soobin hold back a groan at the way you grab onto the clean, pressed shirt the moment he slips his tongue past your lips, tasting you with such eagerness that you’re left breathless.

You’re shocked stiff when you feel it; his teeth, razor sharp and cautious, grazing along your bottom lip. The whimper you let out does nothing to distract Soobin from sensing the way your scent spikes, dense and rushing to his head as he does the only thing he knows how to do; his teeth sink into your swollen bottom lip, ripping a pained moan from you as your hands panic and press against his chest— but he stays there, feeling his fangs sink into the flesh, feeling the way blood pools around the wound and onto your mouth, on his teeth— he’s just as quick to pull them out, his hand that was once on your jaw traveling to the back of your head in a haste; eager to keep you close, tilting your head up and keeping your mouth parted as you simply allow him to lick and suck at the blood, to kiss you as though he could die any moment now. 

It doesn’t hurt after a moment— that much surprises you, the only pain you feel coming from your burning lungs, from the need to be parted and breathe— but Soobin has deemed you his oxygen, his life force, reluctant to part even as you whine and plead quietly under him; after a moment, he finally gives in to your weak cries. 

The string of saliva that connects you two is stained red; just like Soobin’s lips, and undoubtedly your own as well. His teeth are stained and your blood continues to fill your mouth, the taste metallic and strong as you try to regain your breath— slowly, your lip begins to feel strange, a tingling sensation running from your wound to your tongue, through the blood you swallow and into your system; your eyes widen, and Soobin merely looks at you with a knowing smile. 

“What’s happening to me?” you ask softly, hands trailing up his chest to get purchase on his shoulders, broad and stable as you hold onto them like a lifeline— your body feels warm, your head is fogging, and your wound no longer stings— but the blood still dribbles out of it, far too much for you to keep up with it as you swallow continuously— and the feeling only worsens, until your thighs shake and Soobin’s touch suddenly feels much, much warmer. 

“I feel— I feel…” you’re not sure how to describe this feeling; all you know is that you’re pulling Soobin back in for a kiss, fingers threading into his soft hair and tugging desperately to feel his tongue against yours again; to feel the way it runs along your bites soothingly, whimpering softly and being met with a soft groan in response; your taste, something Soobin once thought would be the thing to finally satiate him, is something he simply cannot get enough of. 

“Feel weird, bun?” he asks softly, pulling away and cooing at the way you cry at the loss of him, “I know, I know— let me make it feel better, okay?”

Your form is no longer curled up in a desperate attempt to close yourself off; you’re no longer trying to hide the way your panties stick to you and your stomach burns with a strong desire, the window suddenly cold against you as you allow Soobin to press more against you, to place a thigh in between your legs, firm and thick as he goes up, up, and against your cunt— you practically keen at the feeling. 

“It’s okay bunny, you’re okay,” Soobin says softly, both his hands finding themselves on your hips as he presses you against him; cute skirt now ruffled just under his hands, showcasing your sheer tights and your lace panties that are completely soaked; soft cunt grinding against his thigh, leaving a mess of slick arousal that only serves to spur the both of you more— your scent invading Soobin’s senses shamelessly, just as shameless as the sounds you let out, hips angling so that your clit can rub against the harsh muscle of his thighs.

He clenches and jolts the muscle against you. You’re left to weakly hold onto him, a hand on his forearm while the other is placed on top of his own hand, gaze going down to watch the way you rut against him stupidly— harsh pants leaving you as you watch your panties become soiled, your tights suddenly a lot thicker as they impede you from really feeling him— but you push the thought aside in favor of looking back up at him, unable to hide the shiver that wracks through you at the realization that he was already watching your face intently.

“Feels good?” he asks, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes, gauging your expression carefully— you nod frantically, attempting to say something, only for it to be cut off by a choked moan— Soobin has pressed your cunt flush against his thigh, forcing you to a slow grind that threatens your folds to spill out your underwear, the dirty sounds of your tights rubbing against the fabric of his pristine, smooth dress pants enough to have your face burning— and Soobin revels in the shame that it brings you, taking in the subtle, acidic changes of your scent with a deep inhale— he’s fascinated, and he refuses to let you go until his curiosity is satiated. 

“What do you want, bunny?” The nickname affects you, that much he can tell— he holds you tighter, leans in to whisper in your ear, already feeling the way his close proximity is enough to have your heart rate spike, even if just for a second.

“How do you like it, hmmm? Want me to go harder?” his thigh tightens in a truly cruel way, angling it so that you can truly feel the contours of his every muscle— “faster?” and suddenly, you’re nothing but a pretty doll in his arms, his hands guiding your pace so that you’re riding him as recklessly as you want; the mewl you let out is enough to give him the answer he wants, changing his rhythm until he gets a particularly pathetic sound out of you. 

“Like this?” He continues his set pace. And you’re shivering, unable to do nothing more than chant yes, yesyesyes, breathless and practically inaudible as you focus on the hot pleasure that you feel; Soobin is busying himself by whispering sweet nothings into your ear, things that would have you gasping and turning into a flustered mess any other day— but here, in these lonely, dark hours, with no one else around, you allow yourself to indulge; allow yourself to nod along to the way he asks if you’ll be a good little pet for him, if you’ll let him use you until he’s satisfied— and it all goes straight to your cunt, bringing a fresh wave of soaking arousal and making the pleasure in your stomach tighten until it’s unbearable. 

You’re so close— and you’re quick to let Soobin know, watching your frantic attempts to take over the pace he’s set for you, whining and whimpering weakly as you search for that one thing that will set you off— and Soobin abandons whispering into your ear to place delicate kisses behind it, plush lips trailing down the column as his fingers dig into your hips, pressing you down against him, just like the way his lips trail lower, pressing kiss after kiss until his mouth opens and—

A cry is all you can muster as you fall apart on him. His teeth that grazed the sensitive spot of your neck have since then retreated, and Soobin is quick to sweep back in to steal your lips, pulling you in for a kiss you don’t have the mind to reciprocate; mind emptied, cunt clenching and soaking his pants as you allow him help you to continue riding out your high, whimpering weakly at the way he breaks the kiss to coo soft praise at you.

Come on bunny, let go sweet thing, that’s it, so perfect for me.

You’re not fully there by the time your orgasm has subsided; your mind is just as tingly and foggy as the rest of your body, your movements lethargic as you grab desperately at Soobin�� craving nothing else but him, feeling as though the burning of your body can only be cooled by his touch— your eyes are glassy and fucked out as you stare at him, hips moving without you realizing as you silently beg him for more.

Soobin feels as though he could make you cum like this a few more times; entranced with the way your brows furrow and your mouth drops the moment you fall apart, the way your moans become choked and breathless as you ride out your peak— but he’s also undeniably greedy to be inside you, a desire he knows you share, judging by the way your hand has begun to trail down his chest slowly, eyes drifting down to the outline of his hardened cock against his smooth dress pants.

“Please…” you whisper out weakly, looking back at him with a face so pretty and undeniably pathetic that he refuses to hold back any longer— grabbing your hips and turning you two around quickly, forcing you to stumble back until you’re pressed against the table— and it doesn’t end there, letting out a whimper as Soobin hoists you up, the wood cool under your ass as Soobin continues to hover over you with need; you shrink under the intensity of his gaze, feeling your body buzz with a slight fear— and a slight adrenaline. 

“What is it?” he asks, voice apathetic as he places a firm hand on your chest; pushing you down slowly, until you’re laying on the table and Soobin has parted your legs with ease to stand in between them; you’re whimpering out half-hearted and incoherent requests that Soobin doesn’t bother paying attention to, the hand on your chest making quick work to unbutton your shirt; low-lidded eyes taking in the cute bra that was hidden beneath, just as lacy and pretty as your panties as he smiles at the sight— your mind sobers for a second as you attempt to cover yourself in embarrassment, but Soobin refuses to let you as he gathers your wrists in his hands and pins them above you. His face is dangerously close to yours as he glares at you. 

“Tell me bunny,” he grits out, feeling his clothed bulge press against your warm cunt, tensing at the way your arousal already leaks through the clothing; his hold tightens around your wrists and you squirm, legs locking on his hips as you try to grind your cunt against him— the sight is both endearing and pathetic to him. “I won’t know what you need unless you tell me.”

“Need you, please please, wanna feel you,” you ramble, wrists fighting to get out his grasp as you hips buck under him; your mind has become foggy once more, nothing else but a deep desire in your head that you know only he can satiate— you’re desperate for his touch and he knows it, so to have him deny you like this is nothing short of cruel. 

He’s not satisfied by your begging. His face remains stoic as he lets go of your wrists, eyes narrowing at the way you grab onto his sleeves, eyes glassy and fucked over as you cry for him not to leave you like this— your body feels weird, and you just don’t know how to make it go away— you’re trying desperately to tell him what he wants, but nothing seems to work as you run your mouth until you’ve finally pressed the right button.

“Soobin, I— please, feel so weird, just wanna feel you, please help me, please?” your body is restless and you feel as though your heart only beats for the man above you, hot tears spilling from your eyes and running down your face; Soobin is quick to brush them away with gentle hands, shushing you quietly as he pulls at his tie; it was practically suffocating him anyways, and he feels as though he can finally breathe as he finally takes it off— and begins to tie it around your wrists with deft hands, enough for it to restrain you but not enough to hurt— and he’s left with a bit of extra length that allows him to pull your wrists down and flush against your stomach, watching the way your fingers absentmindedly stretch toward him, furthering your attempts to touch him as your rambles continue seamlessly.

“Soobin…” you cry softly, your chest heaving softly, supple skin peeking from your undone shirt, “feels so hot, wan’ your help… need your cock…”

There’s a thin layer of sweat that covers your body; a light sheen that sparkles along your chest and abdomen, hidden by the white, neat shirt that Soobin simply pulls further apart with a rough hand, untucking it haphazardly from your mini-skirt— and you shudder, unable to do nothing more but lay there as you wait for Soobin to do something— a soft cry of his name has him shuddering, dark eyes flickering back to your face as you repeat the pitiful sound. 

His name has never sounded sweeter. He’s leaving wet, sloppy kisses along your breasts, free hand shoving the rest of your skirt up and onto your waist roughly— your body jolts from the crude movements, thighs shaking at the way his cool fingers skirt around the inside, drifting closer to where you need him the most, a shuddered sigh escaping you once his cool palm is pressed onto your cunt. 

The fire in your body burns brighter. His touch is addicting and the lust that courses through your blood is only amplified by the feeling of him teasingly biting your breasts— never enough to break the skin, but enough to remind you of who he is, of what he’s capable of. 

His strength is something you will never be used to— he’s able to rip your tights with a single hand, not flinching at all before he’s moving onto your panties next; the sound of the fabric tearing is eliciting a soft gasp from you, only for it to be replaced with a broken whine as his fingers glide up and down your slit— feeling just how much of a mess you’ve made, soaking his fingers and dripping onto the table as you buck your hips at him desperately— his fingers are wet as they circle your clit slowly, needy whines escaping you at the small stimulation, quietly begging for more— but he simply teases you, dark eyes staring up at your face and drinking every change of your face eagerly.

His fingers slip in so smoothly it makes him let out a soft moan; you’re so wet and tight, needy walls pulsing and sucking him in desperately, your cries still broken as you try to grind your hips against his two fingers, long and calculated as he presses along your walls, curling curiously and searching for the spot that will have you weak beneath him— and he finds it in no time, a long moan escaping you the moment the pads of his fingers press against it, curling and uncurling, watching the way your legs shake and jump at the sensation with a wicked grin; he’s pumping his fingers into you, adding another finger in, stretching you out until you feel as though you can’t handle anymore— and he tugs at your restraints teasingly, looking down at the way your nails dig into your palm and your arms become stiff from the pleasure— it only takes the feeling of his palm pressing against your clit for your breaths to pick up and become frantic.

“Soobin— Soobin please, ah— so– so close, gonna cum, ngh—” you’re thrashing under him, the pleasure so intense that you’re fighting against his restraints, head turning to the side as though you could hide your face from him, “please, need it, need t’cum, fuck…!”

You’re breathless and on the verge of tears, and Soobin takes it all in eagerly; he watches the way your face twists with pleasure, the way your arousal has soaked his hand and leaves your tight-covered thighs slick, and he feels the way your walls begin to tighten around him, so close, so impossibly close— he just needs to grind his palm against your clit a little harder, harshen his thrust so that your sweet spot is abused and you’re left a wailing mess, maybe bite at your skin teasingly, a promise for what’s to come—

But he doesn’t. He does the exact opposite of that, watching as your eyes widen and a broken look of realization dawns on your lips, eyes cloudy and filled with tears that refuse to spill; your voice is defeated and breaks with every frantic plea, your hips bucking desperately to try and get that fleeting pleasure Soobin is now denying you.

“No, nononono,” you babble, hiccuping softly as you screw your eyes shut, tears finally escaping you at the action, “noooo, please don’t stop— close, was so close to….”

Your words are interrupted by a soft sob that escapes you, your mind and body so desperate for pleasure that you feel as though your whole life-force is being taken away; your soft pleas blend together as you stare up at Soobin with pathetic eyes, hands that were once closed shut now stretching out to try and reach for him— but he refuses, staring down at your broken form with a blank face.

Soobin is quick to shut up your slurred pleas; his fingers are slipping out your cunt, dripping and shining with your slick arousal as he brings them up to your face— slapping softly at your cheek, watching the way your cum smothers over the soft skin and your mouth opens without much of a thought— your lips are tempting and pretty as they wrap around his fingers, a shiver running through his body at the feeling of your warm tongue running along the soiled skin, tasting yourself and letting out a soft moan; hazy eyes staring up at him, ruined cunt still bucking up at him subtly, as though tempting him to finish what he started.

And that’s exactly what he’ll do— his fingers are slow to slip out of your mouth, watching the dumbed out expression on your face as he does so— and his hand is trailing back down your body, brushing over the exposed skin with your spit-soaked fingers, not stopping until he’s back down at your pretty cunt. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, bunny,” he says softly, his thumb going to rub gentle circles on your clit, his index and middle finger running up and down your folds— his other hand has abandoned your restraints, and you attempt to sit up slightly as you watch him undo his pants— unbuckling his belt and letting it and hang loose, undoing his jeans with haste and letting them lay low on his hips, his hand disappearing beneath the waistband of his boxers— and you can only let out a whimper at the sight of him finally pulling his cock out, long and thick with a flushed tip, leaking so much precum that you wish nothing more than to clean him up nicely with your tongue.

The pressure on your clit is becoming harsher; he’s building you up again, watching with apathetic eyes as your sounds begin to pick up again, still tense from your previous, ruined orgasm. You shake your head at the feeling, whining that it’s unfair, don’t wanna cum like this— need you inside, need your cock, pleaasee— god— 

But he doesn’t stop— he’s stroking his cock at the same pace he’s set for you, the slick sounds of him fucking his fist going straight to your head, eyes fluttering shut at the overwhelming sight before you, nimble fingers swiping over his tip to collect his leaking arousal— and you’re close again, you don’t think you’ll be able to stop it this time, even if he pulls away, even if he tells you not to—

Soobin lets you cum this time. He watches the way your eyes widen and your mouth falls open with shock, his face twisting into concentration as he lets you cum on the head of his cock, pressing it in and breaching your walls just before you hit your peak— and you feel stretched, you feel full, helpless cries escaping you as he begins to thrust the rest of his length into your clenching walls, hands unsure of what to hang onto before you’re able to grab a bit of his shirt— and you’re pulling much harder than expected, eyes widening as you watch a few of his buttons pop off, not able to focus too much on it due to the feeling of his thick, pulsing cock entering you with every clench of your walls. 

Your chest heaves in attempts to calm yourself down— his shirt is twisted in your fingers, but it’s not enough to ground you as you feel the way his length curves into you, pressing against the abused and sensitive spot that has you keening and clenching around him, shaky legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer— and he’s hovering over you, supporting himself with a forearm by your head as the other holds onto your waist. 

He begins to move— it’s slow and subtle, starting at nothing but a grind of his hips as he feels the way your hot walls adjust around him, squeezing and fluttering and expanding, all as you try to take in his impressive size— then he pulls out slowly, feeling the way your cunt attempts to protest the action, your eyes rolling back at the way you feel every detail of him, pulling all the way out until the only thing left is his tip that catches on your entrance, the rest of his length covered in your shared arousal. 

Soobin remains there for a second; deep breaths fanning against your skin as he closes his eyes in concentration, willing himself to not cum at the feeling of you, the sight of you underneath him, the sounds that are panted and whined directly against the shell of his ear. 

Without warning, his hips snap back against yours— the action is sudden and has your body sliding up the table slightly, only to be brought back down by Soobin, who wraps the length of his tie around his hand and pulls you back against him— burying himself deeper into you, feeling the way his cock practically splits you open— but you like it, your scent practically emptying his mind and your walls gripping him like a vice— it’s hard to move, but Soobin accepts this challenge eagerly as he begins to fuck you. 

Slow, it’s so agonizingly slow. But it’s deep, and Soobin angles his hips so perfectly, grunting against your ear and letting out sighs with every pull of your restraints, the tie tightening around your wrists and sending you back down on his cock ruthlessly; you’re nothing but a doll for him to use and control, your sharp heels digging into his back as you try to hold onto him helplessly, treated like nothing but a ragdoll as Soobin slowly begins to pick up his pace. 

Then his hips are slamming against yours. The sounds of skin against skin is echoing harshly into the meeting room, and his cockhead is mean and thick and heavy as it presses against your sweet spot, again and again until you’re hiccuping moans, unable to breathe, unable to fight against the overwhelming pleasure— and it’s just how you like it. 

Your mind is racing, your mouth unable to spit out a coherent thought— but your body speaks for you, and Soobin watches as you begin to grow restless under him, the way your legs tense and your hands pull at his shirt, eyes rolling to the back of your head and fluttering shut as he retaliates by fucking you a little harder; your wrists ache and so does the rest of your body, but you don’t seem to care as you walk this tightrope of pain and pleasure, something Soobin is well versed in— he laughs softly at your fucked out expression, releasing a sharp breath before his lips are hovering right by your ear, sentences punctuated and broken up by the exertion of his body and the moans that your cunt rips out of him. 

“That’s a good bunny— cunt so fucking tight– shit, just wanna make you mine, keep you to myself, claim you like you deserve—” he listens to the way you react to his words, feels it, your cries and nods not slipping past him as he lets out a breathy laugh, “you’d like that? Yeah? Fill— fill you up nice and full— fuckin’– take care of you like a good little pet— hah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You’re nodding, fuck, there’s drool building up in the corners of your mouth, tongue lolling and absentmindedly brushing past the bite marks on your lips, the dull sting only bringing about more shocks throughout your body, desperate to be satiated, a fire begging to be put out— and the idea of being nothing else but Soobin’s, his to use and claim, is absolute heaven in your mind. 

The knot in your stomach is becoming impossibly tight; you’re on the verge of hitting your peak again, Soobin can tell, yet there’s something else your body seems to be begging for— and he knows exactly what it is, grinning wildly and practically stealing the thoughts from your head as he pulls the tie in his hands roughly; his inhuman strength sending you back down on his cock with ease, lips brushing against your ear and hot pants making you shiver as he speaks to you in that dangerous, low voice of his. 

“Say it,” he growls, his pace not faltering even if your cunt is willing to hold him so tightly he’s unable to pull out at all, your head thrown back and your eyes screwing shut from the pleasure.

“Tell me you want it. Tell me you’ll take it– fuck– take it like a good pet— say it. Say it, use your words, bunny.”

Your words are coming back to you with a particularly unforgiving thrust of his— eyes widening as they search for Soobin’s frantically, only to be met with his head of blond hair and his face that’s tucked in the security of your bared neck— and you let go of any shame that was left inside you, a carnal and primal feeling overtaking you as you beg, and beg, and beg. 

“Please– please please, I want it, I need it— Wanna be yours, wanna be claimed— fill me, use me I– need— need it, hnng– want it, want you to fill me, cum inside please— been so good, right? I’ll take it, I— ah! I— wan’ you to claim me, make me yours—!”

Soobin has never heard anything more perfect. He’s calculated as he thrusts right into your sweet spot, once, twice, three times— and he sinks his teeth into your pretty little neck, listening to the wanton squeal you let out, cunt immediately soaking and choking his cock— but he holds you down nicely, pressing his weight onto you and placing both hands at your hips, making sure you can’t squirm away from him or his cock that lets you ride out your orgasm, rutting his cock into you even after you’ve begun to shake from the sensitivity.

Your blood is heavenly. There’s no single word that could describe its taste, the way it makes his body shiver and his eyes roll back, finally setting him off the moment he swallows. And he cums inside you, fills you up good, the warm liquid squirting endlessly inside you, prolonging the feeling with the subtle rocks of his hips. It goes on longer than the two of you expected, filling you up with cum until it has no room to go, dripping out of your abused hole and leaving a ring around the base of Soobin’s length.

He listens to the way you cry and sniffle above him, lost in the pleasure— it doesn’t hurt. No, far from it. It makes you see stars and makes another weak wave crash over you, and you think your consciousness is slowly slipping out of you from the intensity of the pleasure you’ve received; Soobin’s lips are stuck on your neck for a few more seconds, warm tongue brushing over the sore punctures before he’s pulled away, your neck sensitive and bruised from the bite.

And it heals nicely the moment he’s pulled away. But there’s something different this time, something that shows up on your skin that he’s never seen before; two faded dots remain on your skin, and though it’ll remain inconspicuous to everyone else, Soobin immediately recognizes it with a soft shudder— he feels his cock twitch inside you.

It looks like his body has agreed with his mind; you’re the perfect fit for him, his to use and take care of until he can’t anymore— he rubs soft circles on your hips, straightening up and looking at the mess before him with fond, lustful eyes— a sheen of sweat covering your whole figure, your closed eyes and parted mouth, your shirt that’s been left open and mirrors his own torn one, your bound wrists and skirt that’s haphazardly bunched at your hips. 

And his eyes wander lower, to take in the way your thighs continue to tremble and his cum leaks out, staining your tights and the table of the meeting room— you’re waking once more with a soft groan, looking up at Soobin through bleary, red-rimmed eyes. 

He leans over, hovering above your face; pulling you in for a sweet kiss, smiling at the way you can’t even reciprocate it properly— and he nips at your bottom lip teasingly, feeling the way you immediately shiver in response. 

“So good for me, bunny,” he smiles, continuing to trail kisses all along your face, on your jaw, traveling to your neck— and his eyes scan your faded bites with satisfaction, kissing it softly and feeling the way your body warms immediately.

“You’re all mine now, you know that?” your cunt clenches involuntarily at his words— and he’s slowly beginning to rut his cock into you again, already feeling a cruel thirst fester within.

“All mine.”

You can take another round, he’s sure of that— after all, you’re his good little pet.

[rashoumon-homo]

No Such Tastes In Men pt.3 (Dazai x Reader)

Dazai x Male Reader, NSFW

-> Content Warnings: male!reader, anal sex (Dazai receiving), bottom Dazai, dom!reader

-> 1.9k words

NSFW CONTENT AHEAD - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

<- Previous Part

When Dazai approaches you for your weekly meeting, you can tell there’s something more on his mind. He’s biting his lip, eyes not meeting yours, while you give your report on suspicious activity you’ve monitored in the past days. It’s not like him to be so distracted, so nervous, so you stop mid-sentence and fold your arms over your chest. 

“Alright, spit it out,” you say, eyes narrowed. “You’re thinking so loud it’s drowning me out.”

Dazai gives you an apologetic smile. “That obvious, huh? I was trying to find the right words to invite you back to my place after this meeting.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Why do I want to invite you over, or why was I thinking so hard about how to ask you?” he asks.

“Both, I suppose.”

On the surface, Dazai looks as calm as ever, but to the trained eye he’s clearly nervous. That slight tremble of his hands that he hides by shoving his hands in his pockets; how his gaze flicks away as he laughs nervously. “I wanted to try something new with you.” He swallows. “I want you to fuck me.”

You can’t help but laugh, relieved. “That’s it? You don’t need to be nervous to ask me that! We’ve been getting each other off for months now, it’s no big deal.”

“Only during the weekly meetings,” he clarifies. “And only with our hands or our mouths. Inviting you over outside of that time frame, and to actually fuck me– which would be my first time, mind you– is different.”

You shrug. “I don’t think it’s weird, if that’s any consolation. You want me to top?”

Dazai nods. You smile and step forward, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Alright,” you murmur. “I’ll make it good for you, don’t worry.”

He shivers, breath catching in his throat. His reaction lights a spark inside you, your heart racing at the prospect of making him melt in your hands; getting to fuck those pretty whines and moans out of him. 

“I’ll let you get ready. 9:00 tonight?” you suggest. 

Dazai nods. His eyes are wide and if you had better hearing you swear you’d be able to hear his racing heart. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “Don’t stress too much, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

As you leave the alley, you hear him say quietly, “That’s why I’m worried…”

***

You knock on Dazai’s apartment door a few minutes before 9. He opens it a second later, his face flushed and a nervous grin on his face. He’s changed into a much more casual outfit; a plain t-shirt and jeans. It’ll be much easier to get him out of it than his work clothes would have been. 

The apartment is warm and cozy. There’s music softly playing from a speaker by the tv, something slow and romantic you don’t recognize. He leads you to the living room and invites you to sit down on the couch, then heads to the kitchen. “Want anything to drink?” he calls out. 

You smile to yourself. He’s trying so hard to set the mood and it’s kind of adorable. “Water’s fine,” you reply. 

He appears a second later with two glasses: water for you, and whiskey for himself. You down half the glass in a couple gulps, while he sips his drink and sits beside you rigidly. 

“Relax,” you remind him, bumping your shoulder into his. He smiles sheepishly in return and takes another sip of his drink. 

“You hook up with women all the time, don’t you?” you ask. “Why’re you acting so shy?”

“It’s just… different,” he says with a sigh. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever been with, and you’re so experienced. I don’t know what we are; what our boundaries are. We’ve made each other cum a dozen times but we’ve never even kissed. I just… don’t want to do the wrong thing.”

You smile sympathetically at him. “We don’t need to figure out a label right now unless you want to. But you do make a good point about boundaries. For me, anything physical is fine. You can touch me, kiss me, bite me, whatever you want. I’m fine with you calling me ‘baby’ or whatever during sex, just don’t blindside me with an ‘I love you’ or anything.”

Dazai shakes his head and laughs. “Pfft, I wouldn’t do that, don’t worry. My boundaries are the same. And I don’t mind if you leave marks or anything, they’d probably get covered by my bandages anyway.”

“Since we’re both okay with kissing,” you say playfully, “Want to get our first kiss out of the way? Might help you relax a little.”

Dazai sets his drink down and scoots closer. “Okay,” he says, cautiously reaching his hand up to rest on your shoulder. You cup his jaw in your hand and stare into his eyes for a moment. Your other hand rests at his waist. You brush your thumb along his lower lip and pull him forward so your foreheads meet. 

“God, you’re handsome,” you whisper, then bring his lips to yours. He kisses you softly, tentatively, at first, but then you part your lips and he mirrors you, tongue dipping into your mouth. You hear him groan quietly into the kiss and you can taste his whiskey on his tongue. His hand slides up from your shoulder to your cheek. He holds you surprisingly gently, more so than you expected anyway. 

When you break apart, you’re both breathing hard, cheeks flushed and soft smiles on your faces. 

“Better?” you ask. 

He grins and kisses you again in response. This time, he swings his leg over yours to sit in your lap, his fingers threading into your hair. You trail your kisses down to his neck, where you suck hickeys onto his skin. 

“I could do this all night, just keep kissing you until my lips hurt,” he says breathlessly. 

You laugh, the vibrations tickling his neck. “I can think of something better,” you say. Then you grab the undersides of his thighs and lift him up. He wraps his arms around your neck and crosses his ankles. 

“Which way to the bedroom?” you ask, still nibbling at his neck. 

“Down the hall, first door on the right.”

You continue kissing him as you carry him down the hall, and with some difficulty (considering you’re carrying him, kissing him, and have never been here before) find your way to the bedroom. You lower him onto the bed and climb on top of him. 

“Doing okay?” you ask. You sit up and pull off your shirt. 

Dazai nods enthusiastically, then pointedly bucks his hips up to press your erections together. You both groan at the contact, and then it’s a tangled mess of you grinding against each other while trying to pull clothes off. 

Finally, you’re able to slip his boxers down and get your hands on that cock. You’re careful not to touch him too much; you don’t want him cumming before it’s time. But just a little for now is fine, to tease him. 

“Gonna have to stretch you now,” you say. “It’s probably gonna take a while since this is your first time, but-” You stop talking when you see Dazai looking to the side, embarrassed. “What…?” you ask.

“It is my first time, but I’ve, uh… fingered myself before?” he says quietly. 

“Oh?” Just that “oh?” is enough for Dazai to crack, spilling the secret he’d tried to keep all day. 

“A little after we first hooked up, I tried fingering myself, cause I was curious, and it was really good but it wasn’t enough and then I ended up buying a dildo but pretty soon that wasn’t enough either and I realized what I really wanted was YOU and that’s why I asked you to fuck me,” Dazai says quickly. 

Your eyes widen with surprise. “Pass me the lube,” you say finally. He hands it to you, looking a little apprehensive still. You coat your fingers, then slip one in. Dazai gasps quietly as he feels it go in. He’s loose, way more than you expected. And so soft and warm inside. You add another and ask, “You stretched yourself before I came here, too, didn’t you?”

Dazai nods. “Mmh… wanted to be ready…” he moans. You slip a third finger in and curl them, petting his walls while searching for his prostate. “Feels so good when it’s someone else’s fingers,” he says. He’s squirming and letting out little breathy grunts as you finger him open. And then you brush over his prostate and he jolts and cries out. Applying just the right amount of indirect pressure has him writhing under your touch and moaning lewdly. 

“Please,” he begs. “I need more…”

“Think you’re ready?” you tease. It’s too much fun taking him apart like this. 

“Please,” he whines. And he looks so pitiful and needy that you just have to oblige him. 

“Alright,” you say. You kiss him to distract him from you pulling out your fingers, then grab the condom he hands you and roll it on. “You sure?” you ask again, this time your voice tinged with genuine worry. “If you want to stop at any point just let me know and-”

Dazai impatiently pulls you down into a bruising kiss. Precum smears onto your stomach as he pulls you close, and you can feel how hot his cock is against you. “Fuck me,” he says desperately. 

You nod and line yourself up with him. You hold his hips in place as you slide in, as slowly as he will let you. Once you’re all the way in, you grind your cock against his prostate and he mewls, pushing his hips further into you. 

“So full…” he groans. “Please… move…”

And so you do. You drag your cock almost all the way out, then thrust in. Dazai positively wails at the sensation. “Fuck,” he cries. 

“You’re so tight and so perfect,” you moan, thrusting in again. The feeling is addictive; Dazai’s hole is sucking you in so nicely. Soon you’re thrusting at a regular pace, holding Dazai’s hips and listening to him moan. 

Fuck, he’s loud, too. Between his loud cries and the sound of the bed frame hitting the wall, he’s sure to get some complaints from neighbors. But you can’t even bring yourself to care. He’s so perfect, so fucking sexy. 

“Please… gonna…” Dazai moans. “Touch me…”

You barely wrap your hand around his cock before his back is arching and he’s cumming hard, moans cutting out into a silent scream as he reaches his peak. The feeling of him tightening around you brings you over the edge too. You thrust hard into him one last time and let out a guttural moan. 

As your orgasms taper off, you collapse onto Dazai’s chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart. 

“Holy shit,” he says finally. 

You laugh. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m bi.”

Dazai starts laughing and then you laugh too, kissing him lazily. Maybe you’re just caught up in the moment, but you can’t help but feel like there’s something more between you two than just sexual exploration. It’s something to ask him about later, for sure, but for now you just want to be two happy, sweaty, cum-covered bodies tangled together. Besides, the way Dazai kisses the top of your head? That’s gotta be as good as it gets.

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[ladythornofrivia]

🍒 The Devil’s Tongue 🍒

Michael Gavey x Reader (PART TWO)

summary: you transferred into Oxford after moving out from your country for a better change, and unexpectedly meeting Michael Gavey in a quiet library, leads to something more.

warnings: creepy vibes from michael gavey, reader being oblivious, stalking, michael being horny, p in v sex, loss of virginity, jealousy, misunderstandings, obsession, belt kink, panty kink, scent kink, voice kink, breeding kink, michael gavey being a smartass, michael gavey is horny for math, michael gavey is a smartass, clueless reader, nerdy yet hot michael, lust at first sight, sex in the library, sex on the table, kitchen sex, oral sex, cam girl, fingering, sex during tutoring session, reader teasing, reader being a dominatrix in bed, food porn.

a/n: i got sick from the trip. oops. enjoy the new chapter! oh, and the one where the reader is being shoved out of the elevator, that one is a true story, by the way. I was being shoved out of the elevator by this guy I met at the cruise—all because I didn’t give him the attention. not only that i got stood up twice--one on the hangout, the other on my 27th birthday. and he thinks it's weird that i like hotd and said ewan mitchell looks weird. good thing i don't have to see him again.

Somehow, to think you met up with Michael Gavey again in the library, now that Oliver Quick is gone. By gone, Oliver might have gotten bored of Michael Gavey, you assumed.

There was a party last night, and you didn’t attend. Not that you’re too good or above for the party; you just hated the noise at the moment. You wanted a different kind of ambience to set the mood. Needless to say, you earned a lot of cash on that night.

With moonlighting as a camgirl, things have gotten easier. If you haven’t left your parents, things would’ve been worse if they found out.

Despite the cruel years, it became a simple memory.

Sitting beside you, Michael offered another crunchie--delicious as always. It's a good pair with hot cup of joe to pair with the sweet chocolate. Although you learned that Michael hated coffee, he'd rather prefer tea, a tea that tasted bland to you. You needed something strong--Starbucks would've been great, but a coffee from Oxford? You can't pass up to try the flavor of coffee from another country you've set yourself in.

Missing the opportunity would be as stupid--all opportunities have been unlocked, all thanks to you being as a famous camgirl. My, oh my, you are moonlighting as a naughty girl in bed time--no parents constantly sneaking in being nosy as hell. You did lie to them--half-lie--by claiming that you have been acting nuts at night--doing all the prayers and bible study sessions, which is a total fucking lie.

You never liked bible studies or prayers before Sundays. It's a hassling lifestyle to live in--to live so virtuously while shaming everyone's lifestyle who aren't religious.

People with an aspect of a pretentious goody-two-shoes was the last thing you need. Oliver Quick is a goody two-shoes; the boy obsessed with math has caught your eye, plain and simple. A bit eccentric, but sexually frustrated, as you guessed before the moment your eyes met his baby blues.

Three weeks later, the magical aspect of Oxford hasn't begun.

"Crunchie," a voice said, tingling your skin and poked at one side of your waist with a slight tickle.

Beside you, Michael Gavey showed up with a slight grin on his face, oddly satisfied this morning.

Who the hell smiles in the morning?

"Not an early riser, I see," he commented.

His pleasant tone prickled in between your thighs.

"Oh yeah, fine and dandy--needed a cup of coffee," you said, grouchy. "I was studying all night--got the assignment wrong."

"What kind of assignment?"

"It's, um, it's an English essay," you lied, pen twirled between your agitated fingers. "This professor is really getting on my nerves when it comes to the essay. Acting all superior and shit--telling me I keep getting my annotations wrong and that I misinterpreted the meaning of the symbolism and theme in the story. I hate pretentious professors like that. No matter where I go, some things never change. They always have favoritism, it's fucking weird."

Michael chuckled. "Perhaps you have been partying?"

"Partying? Please, I needed peace and quiet for some alone time to concentrate on my studies. If I want to have a good future, I had to have at least a C or B. I fucked up bad."

Seems like the lie went smoothly as always.

"So, have you been at the party last night? Sneaking in since you didn't get your invite?" you asked.

Michael placed his hand over his cheek, nearly covering his lips. "I stayed in my dorm."

"Ah, doing math homework, I assume? Anything math related? Science into the mix, maybe."

Michael stayed quiet.

"I'm not really into math. I thought it's confusing," you commented.

Michael chortled. "Perhaps I could tutor you this afternoon. Usually I don't like teaching the numbing idiots of the subject matter. One guy was staring at the girl’s tits while doing times tables. Times tables! Need them to fuck off and do something valuable for once!”

You stopped what you're doing and glanced at him. And it clicked an idea into your head.

“Am I also the numbing idiot?”

He shook his head. “You might be, if you are. These knuckleheads at the library, all they’ve done useless flirting, not studying.”

“That’s what library is for, Michael. To study. No harm in a little flirting.”

Come to think of it, Michael at the library with you sounds nice.

He smiled a little, though not in a friendly way.

"Sure," you said, eating the half crunchie. "Why not? Teach me, so I could get better grades. Life is already hard enough as it is. So got any crunchy to start the session? It will take a while.”

~~~

For the past an hour or two, Michael tutored you. Although as excruciating painful to hear numbers and equations with letters, you couldn’t help but to stare at the cute nerd. Ah, a cutely frustrated nerd, maybe. His curlish dirty blond hair, thick framed glasses and his smile when he talks about math, these thoughts never spare you freedom. You are trapped, trapped by thirst that needed to be quenched.

With your cherry-red boots and skirt and a rosy pink lace top, you opt to show your cleavage by tucking your mini top downward, crossing your legs, coiled your apetite. With your hair flip, or hair twirls, biting your red lips, you were hoping Michael would give a comment or two, but tutoring was his priority, but since you wanted his attention, asking questions about math and equations would definitely keep him on his seat. His eyes on you.

His cute nerdy glasses. His cheeky and toothy smile.

Masturbating seems to be an option, but what happens if that option is no longer helpful? You wanted an alternative approach.

Maybe masturbating in public would be nice, but you’re smarter than that.

But each time you attempt to flirt, he seemed clueless. But he did at one point had a crush on a news anchor. And so your mind mentally made an account.

Dear Diary,

Michael Gavey didn’t notice me. How the hell am I supposed to get his oblivious attention on me? I hope I don’t die as a lonely virgin. I’m a bad bitch; I just want to fuck him so badly, watching his glasses fog up and lips soak at my aching pussy, whimpering underneath me and my dominance.

Then it clicked you.

However, you knew right away of this information when he liked watching news—the news anchor. Although she has a kid, the green envy seared and punctured your belly.

Maturity is what men and guys want.

Though it didn’t stop you from chasing Michael’s attention. Days gone by when you try a different style. That is until you met this guy, a popular guy, who’s name you not care—who complimented and dubbed you as “the hottest girl in campus.”

An idea conjured; if you practice with a guy, maybe it would be easier to make the first move on Michael. Thus, you went along with his flirting, but at the end of the night, you felt sure you were ready, until he took you out in the hall, and make out with you. But you didn’t care, you didn’t want to kiss the dude, you wanted to kiss Michael.

You felt nothing in his erotic moves.

When he tried to get into your underwear, you shoved his hands away. Thus, the little adventure with the guy, and ended up shoving you out of the elevator.

It was a pathetic night.

Nonetheless, your camgirl starts within an hour or two—took a shower and dressed up as a sexy office worker, with fake smart glasses with your tight office shirt loosened two buttons for your cleavage to show, with pencil skirt and stockings and red bottom heels.

On the cam session, did a little roleplay, and with feral thirst, legs spread apart, ripping your stockings and reveal your wet pussy. At the thought of Michael, his face, his voice, two fingers inserted in your cunt, as your hips formed a gyration, moaning aloud.

Michael…

You nearly screamed his name, but your climax came quicker.

All the comments flooded in, and more cash has stocked into your bank account.

You wondered if chasing Michael was even worth it. Hopefully one of these days, he’ll finally notice you.

~~~

Michael shoved in a few cash onto your new stream. Dressing up as a news anchor or an office lady, he found himself turned on, how your skin was gleaming with arousal, office glasses crooked from humping and gyrating, grinding your hips in fast pace like a feral beast that you hid beneath all the girlish and cherry red clothing, a clothing that outlined your perfect hips and perfect waist.

A horny devil.

He pretended his hand is your hand, your mouth, your throbbing, wet cunt, tightened around his bulging cock. The way he fisted his cock so much he couldn’t stand watching you flirting with that stupid boy.

Michael had a plan and he couldn’t wait to be inside you, but the question is…

When?

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[aanoia]

I Don't Know Who You're Talking About

Remus Lupin x reader words; 2817 warnings; angst, blood, sad, murder, the usual part two this is so cutesy (NOT!) I wrote this on my phone in the car so if there's any mistakes thats my excuse. Also Y/m/n stands for your/marauders/nickname because ofc you're a Marauder and of course you're an animagus. like duh.

“Remus, it's a full moon tonight, you can't go. We can't risk that.” I persisted, staring holes into the back of the boy's head.

He turned around angrily, “Why does it even matter, Y/n?” He yelled, and a drop of spit flew from his lips. “After everything that's happened, you're gonna stop me from going to that traitors trial?”

“If you're gonna act like this, yes! I am going to stop you.” I yelled back, taking a step towards him as my voice softened. “And we don't know if Sirius was framed or not, he's our best friend. Do you really think he'd do something like this?”

Remus shook his head, his shoulders dropping, “I think it doesn't matter, because James and Lily are dead. And Peter! Someone needs to be punished for it, and all the signs point to him.”

I frowned, “I don't think he did it.”

“Well, you think wrong.” Remus said, turning back around and walking out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

“Remus, I swear to Merlin, if you apparate to the Ministry-” I was cut off by the loud cracking noise of apparition. He didn't even grab his coat.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I said coolly as I sat next to Remus. He shook his head, anger radiating from his skin.

“You're ridiculous.” He muttered and I scoffed. 

“There's no way you're taking your frustration out on me, right now.” I flashed a smile at a woman I recognized from Hogwarts, she smiled back sadly. I focused in on the middle of the room, where an empty cage was being rolled out. 

“I can't even talk to you. You’re so annoying.” Remus stood up but was stopped as a new cage was rolled in. I gently pulled him back down as we stared at Sirius. He was caged and muzzled like a dog. 

Remus squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back. Sirius’ clothes were torn, his usual fancy jacket he stole from his mother covered in dirt and blood. He looked around the room frantically, eyes wide and tears streaming down his cheeks. He made eye contact with me and placed his hands on the bars, silently begging me to believe that he didn't do this, he could never. 

I gave him a look of worry as the Minister cleared his throat, “Sirius Black, son of Orion and Walburga Black, you are here today under the accusation of working with He Who Must Not Be Named and the murder of twelve muggles, one witch, Lily Potter, and two wizards, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew. How do you plead?”

The moment the muzzle was off his mouth he answered hastily. “Not guilty!” Sirius screamed, his voice shaky and broken. He shook in his cage, “I didn't do it, please! I would never hurt my frie-”

“Silence!” Crouch demanded, holding his hand up, his ring glinted in the candlelight. “We need not hear more.” He scribbled on a piece of parchment and handed it to the boy standing next to him. The boy studied the paper.

He nodded, “Of course, sir.” He left the room quickly.

There were quiet whispers floating around the room, speculating what the young boy could possibly be searching for. 

“Now, because there seems to be a lack of witnesses, which I am sure is just how you wanted it to be, unfortunately we cannot blindly believe that you are innocent.” The boy came back into the room, holding a small vial of clear liquid.

“Veritaserum.” Remus mumbled and I nodded. 

“It's a good idea.” I whispered.

The vial was brought up to Sirius’ lips, who drank it willingly, thankful to finally have a good alibi. 

“I will ask you plain and simply, did you reveal the hidden location of James and Lily Potter to the Dark Lord, resulting in them being murdered and their son orphaned?”

Sirius shook his head, “I did not.” My shoulders relaxed as it felt as if a weight had been lifted. Remus still looked at him coldly, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Did you murder that group of muggles, and your own friend, Peter Pettigrew, leaving behind only his finger?”

“No, I did not.”

The room was silent as Crouch thought. They glanced between the man behind bars and the one upon a podium, his stare belittling. He glanced at the empty bottle on his desk, and back to Sirius before whispering to a man beside him. 

I glanced at Sirius who was already looking at us. He gave me a small smile and I returned it. 

“It is probable.” The man said quietly, but still in earshot. 

Crouch nodded and banged his hammer, “It has been decided. The Veritaserum that was given to was a flake. So, under Mr. Barty Crouch, Minister of Magic, you plead guilty, and are sentenced to life in Azkaban.”

Some people cheered, others let out yells of protest. Remus slipped away, walking out of the room angrily. 

“No, that's rubbish.” I yelled as he began to be rolled away. He screamed in fear, going crazy inside of the cage.

I stood up and pushed past people, carefully jumping down to the floor and below the Minister. The room silenced again and the cage stopped dragging across the floor. Everyone had their eyes on me. 

“Let me talk to him.”

Crouch looked amused, “Miss-”

“It is only a custom. Tradition, even. You must allow me a word with Sirius Black before you send him off. It's in the books.”

Crouch glanced at the book as the boy flipped to the pages. He sighed as he read the words, telling him that it was indeed allowed for loved ones to speak with the person before they are sent off. 

“I'm afraid he cannot be out of his cage, it is not up for discu-”

“I can talk through the bars, can I not?”

“Fine. Follow them.”

I followed them out quietly, ignoring the angry stares I got from people, even the spit that they shot at me, landing right in front of my feet. Once we were in the hall, the men stood to the side and I walked up the cage hastily, putting my hands on the bars.

“Sirius, I'm going to ask you this once, and only once, and I need you to tell me the truth. Whatever you say, I will believe you. Did you or did you not kill James and Lily?”

Sirius looked me straight in the eyes, desperate, “Y/n, please, I would never.”

“It's a yes or no question.”

“No. I didn't.” 

I paused, before grabbing his hand through the bars, “I believe you. It's okay, I'll figure this out.”

His eyes filled with tears again and being this close I could see the heavy bags below his eyes. His hair was a ratty mess and his skin was blemished and dirty. 

“Did you know she was pregnant?” Sirius asked and my eyes widened.

“She was?”

“Yeah. They were going to tell us all on Christmas, but James let it slip to me.”

I took a deep breath, “Oh my.”

There was a moment of silence between us, neither daring to break the quiet atmosphere.

“Does Remus hate me?” He whispered and my heart broke. 

“I don't know.” I answered honestly and he nodded, his eyes averting to the bottom of the cage.

“I didn't kill them. I'd never. He was my best friend, my brother.” Sirius began sobbing. “I've already lost him, and Lily. I've lost my godson. And now Remus. I can’t lose you, Y/n/n, I can’t.” he cut himself off with a gasp.

“It's time to go.” One of the men said, beginning to drag him away.

“I can’t lose you!” Sirius yelled as he was dragged away. 

“You won’t.” I whispered before I looked up at the man as he was dragged away, “Sirius! I love you!”

He smiled sadly, “I love you too, Y/m/n!”

I rubbed my hands together quickly as I walked up to the front door. I placed my hand on the freezing knob and opened it, silently cursing myself for not locking it before I left.

It was half an hour until sundown, so I immediately apparated home to help prepare Remus - and myself - for the night. It was probably going to be one of the hardest he's ever experienced, and I felt terrible for him. 

“Remus?” I called out, only to get no response. I furrowed my brows taking my jacket off slowly, “Baby, I know you're mad but I still want to help you tonight.” Still, nothing.

I set down my bag and slipped off my shoes before quietly walking to the bedroom.

“Rem?” I asked softly, pushing open the door and expecting to see him sitting on the bed, head between his hands as he cried softly.

But he wasn't. In fact the room seemed to be the same as it was before I left. The bathroom was dark and empty. No sign of Remus anywhere.

I walked to the kitchen, hoping to find him sipping from a mug of tea while staring out the window, like he usually is. But there was nothing.

I slipped on my coat and threw on my shoes, ignoring my bag as I quickly left the house. I pulled out the flip phone Remus had insisted on us getting.

“For easier communication.” He’d say.

I struggled to work the muggle device, but managed to send a quick ‘where r u?!’ text. At this point, the sun was beginning its descent and the full moon shone brightly.

I paused for a moment, thinking of any possible place he could be. 

“The Shrieking Shack.” I said quietly to myself, immediately apparating to the raggedy house. 

However, just like our own, it was also completely empty, save for one man. 

“Professor Dumbledore?” I asked quietly. The older man turned around and smiled gently. I didn't fail to notice the tears he wiped from his cheeks.

“Ah, Miss L/n, or is it Lupin, yet?” Dumdledore asked.

I shook my head, “Not yet, no. But speaking of the man, has he been here?”

Dumbledore looked around, “No, I'm afraid not.” He glanced out of the window, at the light in the darkening sky. “It is a full moon tonight, isn't it?”

I stood beside him with a sigh, “That it is.”

“And the night of Sirius’ trial as well, what unfortunate timing.”

“I'd have to agree.”

“You cannot find him?”

I turned around and leaned against the window sill, “No. We were fighting, before the trial. It's been rough for everyone and we took it out on each other.”

Dumbledore nodded, “Ah, it happens. I suppose, however, you should spend less time with this old man, and more time finding who I would assume to be a werewolf by now.”

I opened my mouth to answer but was cut off by a loud howl. The sun had completely dipped below the horizon, and the werewolves were born. 

“Well, it seems you'd be correct.”

“Was that him?” Dumbledore asked.

I shook my head, “No, his howl is deeper. I assume that was a female.”

“Ah.”

I shifted my feet, feeling awkward. “Uhm, I'm gonna go look for him.”

“Take a blanket.” Dumdledore said, handing me a brown bundle of cloth.

“Thank you.”

“Go.”

I nodded and pushed open the door. I sighed at the heavy snowfall, looking into the distant trees. It was going to be a long night.

The tears started as the sun made an appearance again. The weight of everything finally hitting and pressure built behind my eyes.

“Remus, please, where are you?” I called out, my voice hoarse and salty tears slipped into my mouth. I wiped the running snot from my upper lip, my shoulders shaking.

I passed a tree and the bright color of red caught my eye. A blood trail. I followed it eagerly, a small sob leaving my lips and I clutched tightly onto the blanket. It led behind a rock, where my heart broke.

Remus lay there, naked and in a fetal position. He had long cuts all along his body and the snow around him was trained red. He shivered in the snow and his lips were blue.

He glanced at me weakly, sadness filling his eyes. “Y/n.” He whispered, his voice almost non existent. 

I snapped out my daze and grabbed onto him, quickly pulling him to his feet and wrapping the blanket around him. He clutched onto me and cried, I cried with him. 

I apparated to the house silently and he fell to his knees, I followed him, holding him in the kneeling position. 

“It’s okay.” I whispered, biting back my own tears as he sobbed. “It’s okay.”

He cried, “It’s not!”

“Remus, let me clean you.” I said softly, wiping my tears after a few long moments. 

“Okay.” He whispered, staring ahead blankly. 

It was quiet, again, as I cleaned and bandaged. A few times he'd cry again, and I'd let him, figuring it was better to continue what I'm doing. I led him to bed and closed the curtains so the sun didn't shine through. 

“Do you feel better?” I asked quietly once I got into bed.

“I'm not sure I feel much of anything, right now.” Remus said, facing his back towards me.

I looked at him sadly and turned over, closing my eyes and finally letting sleep overtake me.

When I woke up the bed was empty. I sighed, assuming he was in the kitchen or living room. I used the bathroom and walked out of the bedroom. I walked out into the living room.

“Remus?” I asked. He wasn't there. I looked into the kitchen and he wasn't to be seen. The deja vu of the night before was prominent. “Are you serious?”

A note sat neatly on the fridge. I glanced at the magnet, it was a picture of Remus and I smiling wide, faces pressed against each other. We got it from a muggle - or no-maj - vendor when we visited america. I noticed the second one we had was gone. I shook my head and took the note from beneath the magnet. 

I immediately recognized the handwriting as Remus’. I stared at the letter, the one assigned to me. The last letter of my name was splotchy, stained with a tear. 

I gently tore open the letter.

Dear Y/n,

I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know why I'm doing what I'm doing. I'm so sorry for what I'm doing.

I am so scared. With James, Lily, and Peter dead, and Sirius in Azkaban, I just don't know what to do.

You mean the world to me. You're perfect, beautiful, intelligent, witty, talented, you're everything good and nothing bad. At this point you are the world for me.

 Which is why I have to do this. I can't drag you down to darkness with me, I'd never forgive myself. I know this will hurt you, it's hurting me too, but I also know you can get through this. 

I want you to be happy, and I think that's impossible if I’m in your life. So I'm taking the liberty to leave it. My stuff will be magically transported once I find a place to stay, keep the house, you deserve it more than I do.

I love you more than life itself. 

with the deepest of regrets,

Remus

P.S. you are worth EVERYTHING! don't ever settle for the bare minimum.

I dropped the letter and stared out of the window. The snow fell gently, piling up on the ground. It felt rather similar to the quiet tears dripping down my face. In the span of four weeks, I had lost everyone important to me. I didn't realize I had any tears left to cry.

I suppose I'll have to get a dog to keep me company now. 

“Welcome, Professor L/n.” Dumbledore greeted.

I smiled at the group of teachers that came to welcome me. “Thank you, I appreciate all of you. Especially you, Minnie.” I said with a wink and Professor McGonagall laughed wetly, wiping a stray tear from her eye.

“Okay okay, let's not suffocate her on her first day. Dinner is in an hour, I trust you to find your room.” Dumbledore said and I nodded as the teachers dispersed.

“Severus.” I called out and the man stopped in his tracks. I walked over as he turned around and pulled him into a tight hug. He looked at me weirdly once I pulled away. “I know you loved her too.”

He knew exactly who I was talking about, “I have no idea who you're talking about.”

“I know you don't.” I smiled and began walking towards my room. 

“I’m sorry about Lupin.” He said and I paused. 

“I have no idea who you're talking about.”

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[strawchocoberry]

YOUR LIPS LOOK LONELY, I CAN FIX THAT

୨୧ featuring: shidou ryusei, oliver aiku, itoshi sae, noel noa, michael kaiser x fem reader 

ଘ cw: smut, face sitting, orgasm denial, edging, multiple orgasms, spanking, degradation kink, dacryphilia, pet names

୨୧ synopsis: you take your rightful seat on their face and let them ruin your cunt

ଘ wc: 2.1k

ʚ SHIDOU RYUSEI ɞ

Everything was plain and simple with him. He wants it, he got it. No matter what you said, all your words fell into a brick wall. In the end, he would get his way with you, having you do exactly as he wanted you to. There was something in him, something in that horny demon, that made all your hesitations vanish into thin air. Just like right now that you were on your knees on top of the couch with Shidou making a feast out of your soaked cunt. His tongue drove you crazy, reaching deep inside you, making your thighs tremble and almost crush his skull. Even if you ended up smashing his head, he wouldn’t give two flying fucks about it. 

He was brutal, violent and aggressive, fucking your cunt with his tongue like a beast. His arms were wrapped around your thighs, pinching and slapping them every once in a while. Your sweet whiny moans turned him on, making him obsessed with the electricity that ran through his entire body. “S-Shidou… Slow down… Please…” you begged, only for him to outrageously condemn your pleas. His biting your inner thigh caused you to whine from the slight stinging pain. 

“Stay put and let me do my work, slut,” he cursed. He launched attack after attack on your assaulted cunt, having you cum on his face a couple times. Yet his sexual desires were still far from being quenched. And even after all that, you were still pathetically begging him to show you some mercy, cheeks stained from tears and ruined mascara. Shidou found that amusing, your pleas only driving him into ravaging your cunt more. Your thighs were filled with his marks; bruises, bites, scratches. 

It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help it. You were just too good a temptation for him, forcing him to sin for a taste of your sweet nectar. He didn’t hate it, he could never hate it. He sadistically kept pushing you to your limits. Every time you claimed you couldn’t continue, he proved you wrong. You might have been cursing him, but you secretly loved it. And he knew it. 

ʚ OLIVER AIKU ɞ

You tried to remember how you got yourself in this situation. One moment you’re being an insufferable brat, demanding his attention at all costs. You kept pestering him, when he had clearly told you that he wasn’t done with his daily exercise routine. And the next moment Oliver has you sitting on his face, giving in to your pleads. “This is your punishment for acting all bratty,” he explained, running a long lick on your folds, before taking his time abusing your clit. You tried to stop him, but soon enough he had you a babbling little mess, moaning his name in-between incoherent words. His tongue leisurely explored your inner world, penetrating your cunt and sending waves of ecstasy throughout your body. 

Your hands gripped tightly onto each side of the training bench, your legs almost giving in to the pleasure Oliver was mercilessly showering you with. His bulky arms were supporting your legs, keeping them in place to give him the best view on the house. He would retreat for mere seconds, just enough to take a deep breath, before throwing himself back to your drenched folds. You were lost, the only thing on your mind was his sinister tongue driving you past the edge of insanity. “I-It-It’s too much… T-Too much…” you cried, your breath hitching on your throat. “I-I… I-I cannot—”

The only thing making your situation a living hell was Oliver denying you over and over again. When he had first mentioned that this was a sort of punishment, you weren’t sure what he meant exactly. You enjoyed it, which you shouldn’t. He could feel you were close, thus picked up his pace. And then, nothing. He backed away, panting hard with a devilish smirk on his lips. You had lost count of how long this was going on, how many orgasms you had been denied. “Don’t lie to me, baby.” He kissed your abused cunt. “I know you can hold on a little longer. Pretty please~”

He was riling you up again, soaking his lips in your sweet liquor that made him drunk. He was savouring every little jolt of your body whenever his tongue penetrated your hole, every honeyed moan and every grumpy whine that escaped your lips. “Oli… Ver… Please… I want to… Cum…” you begged. You sounded desperate and you were. Just the thought of him edging you to your orgasm only to sadistically leave you needy for release tormented your being. Your body wasn’t going to last any longer of his cruelty. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, finally feeling your orgasm hitting you. Oliver ate you out through all of it, not letting a single drop of your slick go to waste. 

ʚ ITOSHI SAE ɞ

He might have been the one to ask you to sit on his face, but he was surprised when you agreed. Despite the blunt expression on his face, you knew he was secretly happy you had obliged to his request. And oh you were so glad you had agreed. Holding onto the headboard tightly, you let him do whatever he pleased. His arms were resting on your waist, occasionally sliding down to squeeze your ass. But the thing that had your legs trembling on each side of his head was that wicked tongue of his which was swimming freely in your wetness. 

Even if you wanted to, you wouldn’t have been able to hold back your moans. Not when he was licking long, flat stripes one after the other on your cunt. Not when he was using his tongue to play with your clit as he deemed fit. And definitely not when he was moaning in your cunt, making your whole body electrify by the sensation. Sae wasn’t rushing and that irritated you. You wanted to move your hips faster, yet his arms were bruisingly holding you in place. The only thing you could do now was hang on tight and await for the play he had made to unravel. 

You screamed when his tongue caught you off guard and penetrated your velvety walls. His arms rocked your body on his lips, throwing you on a loop of endless pleasure. He moaned at the way you creamed on his tongue, his ears blessed by your melodic lust laced voice. Your nails were dug into the headboard and you wouldn’t let go, afraid that your body might collapse from the pure blissfulness of your lightheadedness. “Fuck… I-I’m close…” you moaned breathlessly. 

His hands cupped your ass cheeks, spreading them, giving him even better access to send you to cloud nine. You were lost in a trance, your body trembling from him making you cum. He guided your hips, helping you ride his face through your orgasm. You were crying and moaning his name, experiencing a high like never before. You grabbed a handful of his hair and made him look at you. He seemed pleased by your tear stained cheeks, heavy breathing and long lost voice. “Don’t even dream of moving away. I’m not done.” 

ʚ NOEL NOA ɞ

You hadn’t quite understood what he meant when he told you that a snack would help his mind relax from the hectic amount of logical thoughts. So, when he expressed his desire to eat you out, you blankly stared at him, but complied nevertheless. Sitting on the edge of his bed, slightly holding your lower body up by supporting yourself with your arms firmly on it, he sat down in-between your legs. The moment his lips kissed your cunt, followed by a long, fat stride, you hollered. 

Every move of his tongue was precise and delivered with utmost accuracy in order to satisfy your needs. You whimpered, your drenched cunt being penetrated by his tongue. His big hands were roaming from your thighs to your waist, lifting your shirt along the way, tickling your tummy. Even so, your mind could only focus on how he ate you out, making you a soaking wet whimpering mess. “Noa… Noa…” He made you more and more needy and that pleased him. Your whimpers urged him to continue, sucking now on your clit, lollying it, throwing you in lustful waves of pleasure. 

His hands left bruises on your waist, as he attempted to keep you in place. He grazed your thighs, sending shivers throughout your body. Your breathing was erratic and hectic, trying to keep up with his tongue running rampant in Noa’s home turf. There was no field the best striker in the world couldn’t conquer. And he never failed to prove himself true to his title. Even when he was eating you out. “I-I’m… Cum-Cumming…” your voice shook, as he hungrily tasted your juices, savouring every last bit of it. 

You were breathing hard, chest panting up and down, as you tried to ground yourself back to earth. Noa was drawing soothing circles on your thighs, taking this chance to catch his long lost breath as well. He nuzzled his nose on your inner thigh, smirking at your little jolt of surprise. Your hand reached out and your fingers ran through his short white hair, making him hum delighted at your soft touch. Kissing your inner thigh, his eyes looked up at you. “I’m still hungry.” 

ʚ MICHAEL KAISER ɞ

He ordered you to sit on his face and who were you to deny his, the emperor’s, command? Sitting on your knees on the couch, you held tightly onto the backrest, while the emperor took his sweet time savouring your delectable cunt as if it were some sort of exotic dish. His tongue would thrust into your hole forcefully when you least expected it, making you whimper, curving a smirk in his lips. His nose teasingly nuzzled against your clit, arousing you more and more, making your little cunt more sensitive to his assaults. His hands were holding onto your thighs, holding them still or guiding them to ride his face. And oh his occasional muffled moans were more than enough to make you cum on their own. 

Kaiser would send you to your climax and eat you out throughout it. He would then leave kisses and bites on your inner thighs, as you enjoyed the luxury of a small moment of respite, before he was at it again. And whenever you dared raise an objection to his actions, he would slap your ass with his left hand, the thorny briars of his tattoo sinking into your skin with the stinging pain of the red hand print on your ass cheek. “Know your place,” he spat. “Shut up and take what I give you, whore.” He slapped your ass again. His tongue took you to the heavens only for his sadistic side to bring you down to the deepest parts of hell, as he kept giving you one orgasm after another.  

You were a mumbling mess, meowling incoherent nonsense along with his name. Oh how pleased he was to listen to you begging him to stop, only to make you miserably cry in the end. Your legs were trembling and you could barely feel them from all your orgasms. Your little cunt was pulsating, abused and at the mercy of his tongue. You creamed more with each long stride he licked on your soft folds. You moaned with his aggressive sucking on your clit. And you screamed with the brutal thrusts of his tongue. You were holding tightly for dear life, but you could be knocked out from excessive pleasure any moment now. 

“Kaiser… Please… I-I can’t…” you half-cried, half-moan your plea. He didn’t spare a single glance at you, too busy to hear your whimpery call for him. He forced the air to leave your lungs, making you gasp at the lack of it, your chest frantically moving up and down in an attempt to get the much needed oxygen. Your whole body quivered, as he showered you with lustful ecstasy. His hands cradled your hips as he had you ride his lips through your orgasm, moaning his name. Kaiser peppered your thighs with soft kisses, but you were too numb to feel it, too dumbfucked to notice it. 

© strawchocoberry — do not copy, repost, translate or reuse my work

[planet-dusk]

absolutely need you to elaborate more perv!chan i just can't stop thinking about it

🏷️ perversion, panty stealing, masturbation, possessive and obsessive behavior

chan knows it’s wrong.

he knows it’s wrong but he can’t stop himself from doing it: pocketing your panties from the laundry basket whenever he gets the chance. 

he only takes one pair every two months to avoid suspicion. (he isn't stupid—the washing machine eats his socks all the time. imagine what it does to a flimsy piece of frilly lace.)

the lacy ones are his favorite because you only wear them to dates. he knows because you told him. you tell him everything. like that one time you drunkenly confessed they’re kinda uncomfortable but you still wear them because they make you feel confident, and you think men prefer pretty lingerie. 

chan had wanted to tell you to wear anything you want. he doesn’t care. those plain cotton panties he’s stolen once or twice would look just as stunning on you. 

instead he’d downed the rest of his drink, nodded, and left you giggling in minho’s arms like the stupid fool he is. 

but the lacy ones smell the best, too; the musky scent of your arousal still clinging to the fabric. it makes his gut twist in anger and desire. he can’t bear the thought of someone else getting you wet but he thanks them all the same for bestowing him with such a precious gift.  

in his mind’s eye he’s the one who gets to peel them off of you, his hand finding his swollen cock as he pictures your lingerie-clad body. he’d tease the tips of his fingers over your clothed slit until the fabric is soaked through, strings of your arousal sticking to it when he finally slides them down your thighs. 

on some days he likes to pretend to tease you a little more; pushing his cock through one of the leg holes and thrusting his tip between your dripping cunt and the lace until you’re begging him to fuck you. you’d be so needy. he knows exactly how it sounds, too, because he’s memorized your moans. they drift through the thin walls of your shared apartment whenever you have someone over. 

chan likes it when someone makes you feel good. you deserve it. at least that’s the lie he tells himself. 

but he’s a terrible liar and he can’t ignore the pang of jealousy piercing his chest every time he sees someone else’s shoes at the door. meanwhile he has to settle for fucking his own fist with your panties stuffing his mouth because he knows you’ll never view him as anything else but your roommate. and why would you? he’ll never have the guts to confess. and if you discover his dirty secret you’ll throw him out of the house for being a fucking creep. and rightfully so. 

it’s repulsive and immoral but he can’t stop even if guilt consumes him. it’s not about the act of stealing them or about the addictive feeling of the lace grazing his sensitive skin. it’s about claiming a part of you. if he can’t have you then at least let him have this: the blurred silhouette of your figure in his mind and your scent surrounding him. 

fuck, chan wants so you bad. wants your taste on his lips and your pretty cunt around his cock. the faintest hint of flavor left on the lace isn’t enough to satisfy his appetite. he can’t stand you being everywhere; in his house, in his head, in his heart.

everywhere except his bed. chan wants to be yours, wants to drown in you, wants to fill you up and make you his. he rubs the fabric all over his skin until he doesn’t remember where he ends and you begin. 

his. you’re all his. he cums with a drawn out moan and your panties wrapped around his cock. his hips stutter, eyes rolling back at the sight of the defiled fabric. he can feel himself getting hard again with every sloppy stroke as he forces himself through overstimulation. he wants it to hurt. such an indecent act shouldn’t feel this fucking good, his pathetic cock twitching at the mere thought of you walking in on him. 

just one more, he tells himself like he does every time. then i’ll quit. forever. he wraps the soiled lace tighter around his cock and closes his eyes. 

liar.

[flashyfools]

months ago, while mindlessly scrolling through twitter, i came across an analysis of this particular panel from chapter 434 (i can’t remember who wrote the thread, i’m so sorry </3), and i really want to talk about it too.

(EDIT: original author of the thread is @goingbuggy!!! go check out their metas, they're amazing)

the thread was focusing on the way the speech bubble covers shanks's scar completely, and how it can be seen as a sign of vulnerability. oda is using shanks’s own words to hide his suffering, letting his physical scars be representative of his emotional ones, even though the event he’s talking about is completely unrelated to the way he got his scar.

in fact, we know shanks is not ashamed of the scar, since just a couple of pages after this one he mentions it directly as a way to start the conversation about blackbeard:

he doesn’t have a problem with the marking itself, it’s just used as a narrative device, a tool to highlight (in an extradiegetic way) his emotional wounds and the pain he always tries so hard to hide, in an effort to keep his usual composure.

the original author of the thread compared the panel from chapter 434 to another, way older one, from the very first chapter:

this takes place right after shanks loses his left arm to save luffy’s life. it’s obviously a very emotionally charged moment, which means the best thing to do would be showing a close-up of shanks’s reaction to everything that’s unfolding in front of him at that moment (luffy’s cries, or even his own reaction to his sacrifice). oda, however, chooses not to do that; instead, he hides half of shanks’s face, just like he did in chapter 434. the way the moment is portrayed tells the reader shanks is willing to hide his pain in an even deeper way than what he’s showing by smiling at luffy right after getting his arm chopped off.

it’s a great way to explain an important characteristic without stating it right away. it's a focal point of shanks's character: it's his way of showing luffy he cares about him and would much rather hide his suffering than pass it onto him, but it's also oda's way of conveying that shanks is much more vulnerable than what he allows himself to show.

having said that, the reason oda chose to bring back this framing in chapter 434 appears obvious: shanks misses buggy.

it’s plain to see, especially if we look at the whole page.

shanks tries so hard to act collected when talking about buggy, but it’s obvious that he’s hurting. his wording makes it clear he’s trying to detach from him (“that’s the end of it” + “rumors have it”); he acts like buggy doesn’t exist in his thoughts anymore, when it’s obvious he still does. he feels remorse, he regrets letting buggy go. he’s scared he might have been in the wrong. he knows he hurt buggy, but he desperately wishes he didn’t.

all of this weighs on him in a way he isn’t used to, so he locks these feelings up, thinking of them only in relation to something that happened in the past, and as so, stays in the past. he smiles while talking about him and buggy, but it’s a remorseful smile. he cuts the conversation short even though he vividly remembers what happened between them, and as he does so, his words hide the scar. he desperately tries to patch things up in his mind by exclusively clinging onto the good memories they share, but the remorse always creeps up on him. he always smiles when talking about buggy, even when he’s talking directly to him. but his smile always ends up looking sour.

this is exactly why i hate it when people say shanks doesn’t care about buggy. oda wouldn’t have given these panels so much depth if he didn’t want to show just how much shanks actually cares. even just the fact the panel we are focusing on directly mirrors a panel from the first chapter, one so important and impactful, should tell you everything you need to know.

buggy will always be shanks’s weakness. caring so much about someone when you’re a pirate of that caliber is difficult in itself, even more so when that someone is so far away from you now.

[runs-red]

Why the Anti-Endogenic Community is Harmful

A few things to get out of the way. You can be anti-endogenic and decent, obviously. This is about the issues with the community in general, not about pointing at every single anti-endo ever to call them an ass. Anti-endogenic can mean a lot of things.

And this is about non-DID plurality. I feel like the vast majority of the endogenic community (on Tumblr at least, haven't been on TikTok in over a year) has nothing to do with DID.

The Biggest Issue

At its core the issue is with not respecting a person's identity, their right to self-identify, and to label and talk about their own personal internal experiences. I’m coming from a position where I think it’s wrong to look at a massive group of people reporting relatively consistent experiences and deeming that they’re all actually wrong or outright lying. I also think the implication that hundreds of people come online just to act like systems to be annoying is…. Strange.

I don’t think it’s fair to ask for undeniable proof when the experience is happening internally. I feel like it puts people into a corner where they can’t defend themselves from that standpoint. “Prove to me you’re actually fictionkin”, “prove to me you actually have MaDD”, “prove to me you’re actually a system”, it just leads to the same conclusion. There is nothing they can physically give you, and they shouldn’t have to prove their internal experiences to be respected in the first place (not even believed, the basic respect of being blocked would do).

Telling people they're either secretly traumatised or experiencing psychosis or have tricked themselves into being plural or outright lied to themselves is not a good dilemma to throw at people. Again, in general dictating other peoples internal experiences is just… not cool in the first place.

Lastly, refusing to listen to endogenics on their identity and continuing to spread hate on pre-convinced ideas is a pretty relevant issue. I continue to see takes that alienate endogenics with childhood trauma (talking about them like they can't be traumatised), "transplural" is still used as a "told you so", “trying to have DID” and the refusal to separate endogenic plurality from DID, and overall just pushing assumptions onto the endogenic community around their own identities. I refuse to believe that’s in good faith at all.

It’s Gone Beyond Identity

If it ended at “I don’t believe you're actually plural” it wouldn’t be that much of an issue, unfortunately it’s gone way beyond that. “Endos” are spoken about like they’re a collective piece of shit. I don’t really care about sounding dramatic right now because it’s the truth. Since I’ve been scrolling the anti-endo tags for proof I’ve gotten some on my For You Page, a lot of them reek of hatred. Here’s a post I did where I shared some screenshots on anti-endogenics.

One) Lumping Endogenics in Together

The ‘endo’ community is actually full of different types of plurals who have varying experiences and terms and language. When you see all endogenics as one entity, it’s easier to pin them all for the actions of one and to demonise them. This just reeks of hatred and it borders on bigotry.

Two) Framing Endogenics as Inherently Malicious

Take the “future is plural” backlash. The phrase was never meant to mean “everyone is going to be plural” or “everyone is going to try and give their kids DID”, the same way the phrase “the future is female” doesn’t mean “let's kill all men so there's only women”. Endogenics are framed with causing everything bad in the system community, pretty much. It goes beyond "I don't think endogenics are actually plural" to shit like "endogenics don't care about trauma survivors and go out of their way to fuck shit up."

Three) Just Plain Bullying and Treating Endogenics Like Shit

Again, this isn't just about "I don't believe you can exist" to "I hate the way you identify so much that I don't think you deserve respect or a space".

[pepaldi]

As we chat, the postman rings the bell, delivering packages. Council tree surgeons are working on the road outside. My son needs water, words of comfort, possibly he just wants another good long look at Capaldi. I’ve never interviewed anyone in my own home before and the limitations of the format are becoming apparent. But Capaldi seems to respond well to the setting and its lack of frills. His adult daughter and her family have been visiting, brand new baby in tow. When I apologise for all the noise and interruptions, Capaldi says it’s nothing compared to a newborn.

He and Collins were young parents themselves when his directing career fell apart. Arriving back in London from the disastrous Manhattan trip, “The initial feeling was shock. Then a pragmatic survival instinct kicked in.” Capaldi rejoined the auditioning circuit. “I was a psychiatrist in Midsomer Murders. I was a beekeeper in Poirot – AN Other Actor. Someone else would have turned down these parts first.” Collins, until that point an actor, too, decided to pivot into development and production, a career move that has worked well for her.

*

“This business is full of people who are not the real thing,” he says, “people I perceived to be artists ’cos they had posh accents, but who didn’t have it, they just sounded like they did.” He goes on to tell a tantalising but intentionally vague story about a major star he worked with, someone who revealed themselves through the course of an acting collaboration to be a dud hiding in plain sight. He won’t provide details (“Too easy to figure out. When everyone’s dead I’ll tell you”), but he says the experience changed him professionally, leaving him more aware of his own limitations, but grateful to have a little vinegar and grit in the mix. “There’s a kind of smoothness, a kind of confidence that comes from a good [paid-for] school. That’s what you’re struck by: they seem to know how to move through the world recognising which battle to fight, where to press their attentions. But it can make the acting smooth, which to me is tedious. I like more neurosis. More fear. More trouble, you know?”

*

In the new TV show, Criminal Record, he explores a more mortal kind of ageing, life’s third act, its inevitable professional humblings. Capaldi plays a London DCI in his 60s, coming to the end of a career, already moonlighting as a private security contractor, intimidated by the thrust and purpose of a younger colleague at the Met played by Cush Jumbo. As Jumbo’s character grows in confidence, Capaldi’s shrinks. It is a paradox of experience he can relate to. “I find the older I get, the closer I am to who I was,” he says.

I ask him to explain.

“Like I’m returning to… ‘roots’ is the wrong word. I feel more and more like my mother and father, more and more keenly aware of the values they had.” He provides an interesting example, how he has become all thumbs around the act of tipping in restaurants: “I can be in a complete sweat about that.” He can imagine his parents, both dead now, in a similar muddle. “From the background we come from, you can have a bit of anxiety about coming across as grand. So you have to allay that by making sure you are communicating with everybody, all the time.”

Capaldi shakes his head, chuckling softly. He has finished his coffee. He’s about to put on his big coat, say goodbye to my son, and walk back through Whoville to his home and his family. Before he leaves we return to the subject of actors from privileged backgrounds. He says he feels mean, like he took unfair advantage of them in their absence. “It’s not their fault,” he says. “It’s just that there’s less and less of my lot in the arts.” And this concerns him, he continues, because “people of all backgrounds are sophisticated, are interesting, are equally prone to tragedy and joy. Any art that articulates that is a comfort. Art is the ultimate expression of you are not alone, wherever you are, whatever situation you are in. Art is about reaching out. So I think it’s wrong to allow one strata of society to have the most access.”

He nods, feeling he’s expressed himself better. I agree.

The whole interview over at The Guardian.

[desswright29]

You’re an Angel

A/n: Short story inspired by Halle’s new song

“Y/n.” Tish says softly across the room. Turning from your spot on the bed, you see your beautiful friend staring daggers at herself in the mirror. She wore black joggers that fit her nicely, a plain white t-shirt and hoodie with a ball cap. “What’s up Tish?” You sit up on the bed eyes furrowed, noticing something was bothering her. “You’re my best friend right?” Wondering where this was going you answer “Obviously”. She sighed chewing on her bottom lip. “Well I need you to be brutally honest with me right now.”

“Always.”

“Do” She lets out a strained chuckle, shaking her head. “Do you think I’m beautiful.” She whispers it but you hear her loud and clear.  “What?” Your entire face contorts in confusion.   She looks back into the mirror. “I can’t see it. Is it the celebrity? Is it the money they see. I look and look and it just isn’t there for me. I just see a lanky awkward girl. I can’t see what my fans see. I saw a video of me the other day, they were discussing whether I was a trans-“  You stand immediately making your way over to her. “You can stop that shit right now”.

“Are you serious Tish?” Your eyes welled as you got closer to her seeing tears drop from her eyes. “It’s not just physical, I feel like nothing I do is good enough. I pour my all into projects with little to no recognition. I don’t do it for that but sometimes it all takes its toll. Is it because I don’t have curves and I don’t act like all the other women? Idk what I’m doing wrong”. Slowly you approach her placing your hands on her shoulders turning her around to face you. Taking off her hat you place a hand on her cheek, wiping a tear away with your thumb. 

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. Tish you’re indescribably beautiful. The structure of your face, those cheek bones, the way your lips sit perfectly on your face. That cute little nose, gawd that jawline! And those intensely beautiful eyes. Cutting your hair was perfect for you, because hair only hides away your type of beauty. The most beautiful brown sun-kissed skin wraps around your perfect body. Thin and muscular. Legs for days. And it’s not just the way you look, Tish.  I wish you could see how easy it is to get lost in your expressions as you speak about things you’re passionate about. You have the sexiest laugh known to man. The way you walk makes my knees buckle. You’re full of life, so intelligent, determined, and thorough. Even though I believe what’s in that mirror is perfect, you’re so much more than that. You’re an Angel here on Earth. And anyone that’s graced with your presence should consider themselves blessed.”

 You reach up to rub the top of her head with both hands, aware that you had let a little more slip than intended. Both of you stated into eachothers eyes. Tish was speechless, and suddenly, her lips were crashing into yours. You were shocked but quickly returned the kiss, cupping the back of her perfect head. She pulled away quicker than you would’ve liked. “I’m sorry” She said. You shake your head and once again close the distance; kissing her with all you have as her arms snaked around your waist holding you firmly against her. When you pulled back, you placed your forehead against hers.

“I’ve wanted to do that forever.”